Page 62 of The Aether

“I thought it was worth popping back in time.”

“What the fuck is going on?”

“Morcant. He goes on a Dethridge killing spree in the not-so-distant future. The slaughter starts tomorrow, if I’m not mistaken.”

Slaughter?Damian’s stomach dropped before he got control of himself. Castor had a tendency to exaggerate, though why he would choose a term like slaughter if it didn’t apply was questionable.

“How?”

“Your wards fail. Someone at the Authority is working against you, taking your abilities as they see fit. All in the name of the Fates.”

Cold dread filled Damian. Unknown enemies were the worst. One never saw the attack coming.

Unless they were Sabrina.

“Sure, and let me get this straight.” Ronan ran a hand through the hair Vivian admired. “There’s a bastard wantin’ to strike at the Aether, and he keeps encouraging a feckin’ Arcane Devourer to do it?”

“That’s it in a nutshell.”

“Do you know who?” Damian asked future-Castor thoughtfully. If he could find them, he could end this madness immediately.

“No.”

“Wonderful. For all we know, it might be one of the Sentinels I’ve brought into my home to protect Sabrina.”

“If it is, I can’t say which one,” Alex replied. “But for sure, someone is working to bring down your wards.”

“I see.” Damian rose and shook Castor’s hand. “Thank you for risking yourself to return. Go. I’ll clean up this mess.”

“Take care, and don’t go after your daughter alone. You have friends, Dethridge.”

As Alex positioned himself to leave, Damian halted him with a touch on his arm. “Wait! Am I alive in this future reality you’re from, and how distant are we talking?”

Expression grim, Castor nodded. “Yes, and perhaps a week. Most of us are running on little sleep, and the days are blending together.”

“This bracelet”—he lifted his arm to show Castor—“is it on my wrist then?”

“I can’t remember seeing it, but I wasn’t looking.”

“Thank you, Alex.”

With a nod and shower of lights, he was gone. A mere second later, his present counterpart groaned and sat up, holding his head like he’d been on an all-night bender and was suffering the hangover.

“What the fuck happened to me?” he groaned.

“You did, my friend. Or rather, your future self.”

“Next time, tell that fucker off for me.”

Damian squatted. “Alex.”

“What?”

“This is me, telling you off as per your request.”

“Very funny. Send me the Death Dealer. Maybe he can put me out of my misery once and for all.”

“Whine, whine, whine,” Damian mocked before shifting to all-business mode. There was no time to spare. “You told me someone is working from the inside to hurt me.” He checked his watch. “We have the six hours until sunup to discover who.”

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