“Well, at least he didn’t get the staff,” Onvyr muttered, washing teeth out of his hair.
Rolf growled and cursed the necromancer to the fifteenth level of hell, whatever that was.
Khent swore the draugr was making shit up. “The good news is we have the staff, Vladimir knows we can fight back, and Nergal won’t be happy he’s no closer to obliterating the world.”
“Right.” Rolf joined them on the boat to head back to Mercer Island. They drove in silence before he said, “Did all that seem right to you?”
Onvyr snorted. “What? Watching you two get vomited out of an exploding human before he became whole again and laughed so hard he exploded a second time? And let me tell you, that was a lot of blood and guts for a dozen people, let alone one guy dying twice. If that wasn’t weird enough, he then vanished in a puff of smoke while some weirdo with two lion heads tossed me around like a dog’s bone. Is that normal? I’m new to the Mundane plane, but I don’t think so.”
Fucking Nergal and his interference.
Rolf shook his head. “This is all wrong. It’s too easy.”
Unfortunately, Khent heard the truth he didn’t want to acknowledge. Not when everything in his body insisted he find Valentine again and glue her to his side. “Do we go back and check it out?”
“No.” Rolf sounded determined. He drew runes overhead, and magic flared. The small yacht cut through the waves of the Sound, moving as if carried by Poseidon’s own hands. “We need to talk to Hecate. Now. And what the hell did you mean when you called yourself Imy-Mut?”
Khent shrugged, knowing where the name had come from, surprised he hadn’t thought about it in decades. The title—not a name—had come to him at the moment, a warning to all who might think to trespass. He felt jittery, unable to stand still. He paced, unnerved and not sure why, with only one thing on his mind.
It wasn’t Nergal, Vladimir, or vast death magic in a necromancer that the human shouldn’t be able to command.
Instead, Khent’s thoughts were consumed by Valentine, wondering if she was okay. If she needed him. And why her absence made his heart ache and his fangs descend.
He rubbed his chest. “Onvyr, Rolf, get us there faster. I have a bad feeling.”
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FOUR
When Val returnedto the house with Mormo, she found Onvyr, Rolf, and Khent waiting.
To her astonishment, Khent stopped listening to whatever Rolf was saying, walked right up to her, and stared down into her eyes. His flared blood-red. He tilted her head, looked her over as if unsure of her state of health, then leaned down to inhale her scent.
“Wh-what?”
The others stared, Rolf’s brows raised.
Mormo watched with amusement. “She’s fine, Khent. Unharmed and worried about you, oddly enough.”
Khent grunted.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
He didn’t answer.
Rolf cleared his throat. “You see, the thing is, the necromancer is tricky. I can see why Val wanted our help to kill him.”
“Tell me what happened.” Mormo glared.
“Why are you looking at me?”
Khent scowled at the blond vampire and explained, sounding angry and frustrated, “Vladimir of the Void is more powerfulthan one would expect, even working for Nergal. He tapped into magic no human ever has.” He glanced at Val before adding, “It didn’t feel as if it came from Nergal either. This is something darker.”
“Divine?” Mormo asked.
“I don’t think so. But not demonic either. I’m still trying to work through it. But I can tell you it’s nothing I’ve ever encountered before.”
“Just what we don’t need. But you have the staff?”
