Page 95 of The Aether

“Papa! We have to hurry. Mama is waiting to come back.”

“Beastie…” How did he tell her there was no coming back after this many hours? Had they gotten to her sooner, then maybe.

Leaning in, his daughter sandwiched his face between her small hands. “She’swaiting.”

Heart hammering, Damian’s breathing increased exponentially until he thought he’d hyperventilate. “Who?” he croaked past the tight ball in his throat. “Who do we need?”

She grinned. “Just you and Mr. Trevor. Like you did for Aunt Josie.”

After delivering a smacking kiss on her mouth, he handed her off to Ronan.

“Blane!” he bellowed, dashing for Vivian’s vessel. Two steps away, it registered that Morcant was missing.“Goddammit!”

* * *

Morcant’s body hurt like a bitch.

Every muscle. Every bone. Every fucking cell.

His organs were a raging inferno, cooking him from the inside out. He needed sustenance. And soon!

The Aether’s savage curse drifted to him, giving him the smallest of boosts before Damian managed to control his anger. It would’ve been nice to feed off that particular source for a bit, but that cagey sonofabitch was too restrained.

The sudden silence was eerie, even for someone as twisted as him. Peering over his shoulder, Morcant continued to inch forward as he ran his hand along the rough surface of the wall. Where was the damned latch?

A whisper of ill intent drifted to him, and he sniffed the air, hound-like, seeking the source. Perhaps if he was able to channel it, he could make good his escape.

As his fingers encountered a divot in the stone, he breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, he’d live to fight another day. Gleefully, he pulled the lever and waited for the mechanism to disengage. When nothing happened, he pulled it twice more.

What the actual fuck?

He wanted to yell his frustration, but if he alerted the others to his location in the passage, he was a dead man. No way would the Aether allow him to live one more hour of one more day. Morcant had sought to claim the ultimate prize, but failed magnificently in his quest.

“The Authority wishes you to attend them,” a flat feminine voice intoned.

Good. The Authority’s Red Guard would haul that bastard in and strip his power for assembling Sentinels without express permission. Damian was screwed every way from Sunday, and Morcant wanted to dance a jig on the man’s perfect fucking face.

“Morcant Thywyll, you have been ordered to attend the Authority. Do you wish to comply?”

He jerked in surprise. They weren’t here for the Aether.They were here for him!

“No, I don’t fucking wish to comply,” he snapped. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“We don’t take you for anything,” another drab voice replied.

Sniffing the air, he tried to ferret out their more complex feelings, seeking any ounce of negativity he could.

There was none!

How the hell was that possible? Had the Authority anticipated he’d drain them dry to regain his strength? In the process, giving them a drug or casting a spell to remove all feeling from the army they’d sent to retrieve him?

And they were many.Thathe could sense. Their heartbeats were in sync, which had made it hard to detect the others at first, but now he knew they were there, it was easier to discern one from the next.

Ten in all.

Oh, how the Authority must fear him.

“Why aren’t you taking the Aether in?” he ground out. “He and that freakish child of his are the real problem.”

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