Page 78 of The Maestro's Mates
From her glare, it was obvious that some had, in fact, done just that, scared off after Alistair’s death. But after a moment, she smiled humorlessly.
“They’re in Bayonne, little brother. Once Linda is dead, the wards will fall, and my witches will swarm the house. So let’s get started.”
With a swift motion, Veronica pulled out a long athame of carbon steel from her robe. Pavel moved toward her, but after a few quick movements of writing in the air with her implement, a dome of swirling wind sprang up around them. Pavel reached his clawed hand into the maelstrom, but the air was going too fast. Any attempt at breaching the whirlwind was quickly repelled.
Pavel spun around to see Sebastian’s father stalking toward him, exhausted determination shining from his wrinkled eyes. Before Pavel could say anything, Justin stepped in between them, growling, with his claws out in front of him, threatening the elderly witch.
“Step aside, young fool,” the man said, reaching out and grasping Justin’s forearm.
To Pavel’s horror, the material of Justin’s navy suit began to deteriorate and flake away, dissolving into dust. Once the witch’s hand came into contact with Justin’s skin, it did the same, shriveling and turning gray as his mate screamed in pain.
The vampire yanked his arm from the old witch’s grasp, flying back to Pavel’s side. Justin held his arm out helplessly in front of him. It looked even worse close up, as though a section of Justin’s forearm had mummified.
“He uses time magic,” Pavel said, clutching Justin tight to him. “You can’t let him touch you. He can cause even your heart to grow old and shrivel.”
“But I’m a vampire…”
“You can’t oppose me, children,” the old man said, although there was little conviction in his voice. Mostly, he sounded tired.
“I’m no child,” Pavel answered, pulling himself up to his full height and spreading his enormous wings out behind him. “And I stand with my mates.”
“Your mate won’t be standing much longer,” the old replied, glancing at the ongoing fight. The wind-encircled battle between Sebastian and Veronica was growing more intense by the second.
Veronica was using her athame to direct the wind, flinging all sorts of pointy-ended projectiles she’d tucked away on her person. So far, Sebastian had mostly dodged her assault, although one dart had stuck him right in the chest.
Sebastian, for his part, was not staying idle. He was tossing small spell jars he’d hidden in the pockets of his costume. Pavel was relieved to see the witch had taken his advice and carried supplies with him, even in his costume.
His spells were more unpredictable, of course, because of his affinity. Some seemed to have no effect, although one had exploded into a fire hot enough to singe Veronica’s hair on one side. The burnt section made her appear even more unhinged.
Pavel turned back to Sebastian’s father, who was once again advancing on them. Pavel growled. This decrepit deadbeat would pay for injuring his mate.
Moving Justin out of the way, he hurtled forward, flapping his wings once to speed him toward the man. His claws wrapped around the old witch’s throat.
“You will not hurt my mates,” he roared.
Almost casually, the old man brought his hands to either side of Pavel’s head, pressing inward.
In an instant, sleep tugged at Pavel. No, not sleep. This was deeper, stronger, like a hand around the ankle of a struggling swimmer, pulling downward. The witch was shepherding him into his final dormant state.
“No,” Pavel whispered, squeezing as hard as he could even as strength leached from him. A low gurgle issued from the witch’s strangled throat, but his grip on Pavel’s head did not loosen.
Pavel resisted. He did. He tried so hard. But ultimately, his mind darkened, and his skin transformed, little by little, into stone.
The last image he saw before he was gone was his vampire mate, eyes ablaze, throwing himself at the elderly man.
Chapter 30
Justin
Pavel’s gray skin was hardening like a riverbed stripped of the last of its moisture. The effect spread like a wave, radiating out from the old witch’s wrinkled hands, still glued to the sides of the gargoyle’s head.
It took a moment for Justin to puzzle out what was happening. Looking down at his own discolored forearm, it finally clicked. Seb’s father was a time witch, and he was using his affinity to rapidly age whatever he touched. Although vampires didn’t seem to get older, the legends said it was just extremely slow, and that after many thousands of years, a vampire would begin to shrivel and mummify.
Maybe this was confirmation of the legends. Even the most powerful vampires known to Justin were only five or six hundred years old. He had no idea if any truly old ones still existed.
The understanding hit like a lightning bolt. For a vampire, time might bring a shriveled, mummy-likeexistence. For a gargoyle, it would be a permanent dormant state.
Pavel was halfway there already.
