As much as he hated the thought of his mate alone and terrified in a cell, it was preferable to the fear that she’d been taken by an enemy who intended . . .
Christ, he couldn’t even go there.
“If she had Sally, then Zoe would have used her presence to force my return,” he grimly admitted.
Levet’s wings drooped. “Whoever created the portal must have taken her.”
“The fey,” Roke said. “It has to be.”
The gargoyle nodded. “So how do we retrieve her?”
There was a blast of icy power as a large Aztec warrior stepped through the invisible barrier.
“Roke. Thank the gods,” Styx said, his massive body covered by leather pants and a black tee. His hair was braided and his massive sword was strapped to his back. “I’ve been trying to contact you.”
Roke brushed aside his king’s concern. Nothing mattered but finding Sally.
Nothing in the entire world.
“I need your help,” he rasped.
Instantly realizing something was desperately wrong, Styx was on full alert.
“What happened?”
“We were in Nevada—”
“Being chased by his clansmen,” Levet interjected, his tiny arms folded over his chest.
Roke ignored the ridiculous pest. “When we were sucked into a portal and brought here.”
Styx arched an ebony brow. “You were being chased by your clansmen?”
“Oui,” Levet agreed with a sniff.
“That doesn’t matter,” Roke growled. What kind of fate would steal his beautiful mate and leave him with the stupid gargoyle? “Sally was with us, but she never arrived. We have to find her.”
“Easy, amigo,” Styx soothed as the eight-foot brick fence surrounding his back garden exploded in a shower of rubble. “We’ll find her.”
“We need a fey,” Roke said between gritted fangs.
Levet abruptly snapped his fingers. “Troy.”
Styx scowled. “The imp?”
“He has royal blood,” Levet pointed out. “No one has greater power to trace a portal.”
Roke shoved his hands in his front pockets, struggling to control his power. He could level a city block if he wasn’t careful.
“Can this Troy be trusted?”
“He’s fey, but yes, I think he can be trusted,” Styx said, his too-perceptive gaze studying Roke’s worried expression. “Why?”
“The fey have been chasing Sally since the gargoyle removed the illusions wrapped around her music box.”
Levet lifted his hands. “Hey, do not blame me.”
“Odd,” Styx murmured.
Roke shook his head. “No more odd than the Miera demon who attacked us.”
Styx’s eyes narrowed. “Did you say Miera?”
“Yes. He attacked us twice. The second time he nearly killed me,” Roke admitted in bleak tones. It was his inability to destroy the bastard that had allowed Sally to be put in danger. “Do you know who he is?”
Styx grimaced. “There’s a missing Oracle who has been killing the fey.”
Oracle?
Well, shit. That would explain the creature’s strength if not his weird-ass powers.
“Brandel?” Levet abruptly asked.
Styx nodded. “Yes.”
“Bah.” The gargoyle wrinkled his snout. “I knew he had been to Canada.”
Roke made a sound of impatience. “What does this Brandel have to do with Sally?”
“Actually, we were hoping you could tell us,” Styx said.
“He wanted the box. Or at least that’s what he claimed.” Roke hissed in frustration. “I no longer know if it’s Sally or the box that everyone is trying to get their hands on.”
“It all has to be connected,” Styx said, his brows furrowed.
“I don’t care,” Roke snapped. “I just want Sally.”
Styx nodded in ready agreement. “Levet, get the imp.”
Chapter Seventeen
Sally stood in the middle of the sun-drenched field, completely disoriented.
Okay. Just a second ago she’d been in a dark desert surrounded by angry vampires. Then she’d released her spell and there had been a swirl of dizzying colors. And then . . .
Then she was standing in this meadow that was filled with buttercups and daisies and tiger lilies along with lilac bushes to add to the dazzling display. Overhead the sky was a clear, impossible blue with an occasional bird casting a shadow over the endless fields.
Where was she?
And more importantly, where was Roke?
“Hello?” she called, taking a hesitant step forward. The movement abruptly drew her attention to the fact that the itchy blanket had been replaced by a flowing satin gown in a pale ivory.
The spaghetti straps allowed the warm sun to stroke over the skin of her shoulders while the lace around the hem tickled the tops of her bare feet. She might have appreciated the beautiful garment if she hadn’t been worried how she’d acquired it between one heartbeat and the next, and who had placed it on her naked body.
As it was, she held the music box in a death grip and took another step forward.
“Roke?” she called.
There was no answer beyond the rustle of the breeze through the flowers, but suddenly she caught the scent of a rich full-bodied wine.
It was intoxicating.
“Is someone there?” she called out.
Without warning a marble grotto appeared in the center of the field.
Built of white marble it had fluted columns and a dome roof that glittered gold in the sunlight.
Sally gasped, stunned by the magic that sizzled in the air.
She’d never felt anything so raw, so . . . primal.
And more disturbing, it was stirring a thunderous reaction deep inside her. As if a dam had suddenly burst to release a flood of magic she never knew she possessed.
Blessed goddess. What was happening to her now?
Still trying to process the tidal wave of magic, Sally was distracted as a shadow appeared between the columns of the grotto.
Crap. There was something coming.
That couldn’t be a good thing.
Barely daring to breathe, she watched as a tall, elegant form stepped from between the columns, moving down the steps with a liquid grace.
Sally blinked. Then blinked again.
He was . . . beautiful.
Staggeringly, breathtakingly beautiful.
Wearing a robe of purest white, the stranger had long hair the color of spun gold held from his face by a narrow band of silver studded with priceless gems. His eyes were faintly slanted and the color of polished amber flecked with jade. His skin was unblemished and so silky smooth it didn’t look real, while his lips were sensuously carved and tinted the shade of ripe strawberries.
He moved toward her with such a regal air she nearly curtsied, his gaze skimming over with a clinical curiosity.
As if she were a wild animal that strayed into his fairy-tale land.
“Ah, Sally,” he murmured, his voice brushing over her like velvet. “At last.”
He knew her name. How?
Sally licked her lips, trying to think beyond the magic bubbling through her.
“Who are you?”
“Sariel.”
Which told her precisely nothing.
“Where am I?”
He seemed to consider. “A difficult question.”
Sally grimaced. The fact that Sariel didn’t have a straightforward answer wasn’t comforting.
“Not usually.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “The place does not matter.”
“Fine.” Obviously he wasn’t going to answer the question. Move on. “How did I get here?”
“I called and you came.”
“How?”
He smiled. “Your powers grow with every passing hour.”
She frowned. “You’re saying I brought myself here?”
“Of course.”
She had a flashback to magic that seared through her just as the swirl of color had engulfed them. Was it possible that she actually created a portal that had brought her here?