“You would, of course, claim that you’ve bound the child to you,” Ariyal mocked, not bothering to glance in her direction. “I’m familiar with your habit of telling the truth only when it’s convenient.”
The pale eyes darkened with fear. “Do you want to risk killing the brat on the slim chance I’m lying?”
“Yes.”
“No,” Jaelyn interrupted, rolling her eyes at the typical male need to huff and puff at one another. Why actually communicate when it was so much more fun to bang on their chests? She turned to study to the mage, sensing that his terror went way beyond their own arrival in the townhouse. “What do you mean you’re merely trying to survive?”
Sergei gave a restless shrug. “I’m not a lunatic. Marika convinced me that resurrecting the Dark Lord would bring us both the power we craved, but I’ve discovered that such powers come at a price I’m no longer willing to pay.”
“Convenient,” Ariyal taunted.
“Actually it couldn’t be more inconvenient,” the mage snapped.
Ariyal didn’t hesitate. “Then give me the child and you won’t have to worry about the Dark Lord.”
“Right. And how long do you think I would survive without the child as protection? If you didn’t kill me then Tearloch most certainly would.”
“We could keep you alive,” Jaelyn smoothly offered, not at all surprised when Ariyal sent her a smoldering glare.
“Speak for yourself,” he rasped. “I have no reason to keep this spineless coward from his long-overdue grave. In fact, I’ve waited a long time to rid the world of his infection.”
“Ariyal ... shit.” Jaelyn moved with blinding speed toward the windows that overlooked the damp street, her senses on full alert. A swift glance was enough to discover the shadows that were moving through the front gate toward the portico. “It looks like your tribesman found reinforcements.”
Ariyal cursed. “How many?”
“I count six—no wait, seven Sylvermysts including Tearloch. And ...” Jaelyn gave a shake of her head as the shadows disappeared from view as they entered the townhouse.
Even out of sight her Hunter instincts could detect the heat of their bodies as they silently moved through the bottom floors, clearly searching for intruders. She could smell the distinct scent of herbs that revealed they were Sylvermysts and the hormones that marked them as male. But there was a strange ... emptiness, was the only way she could explain it, that was swiftly traveling in their direction.
“What?” Ariyal prompted.
She turned back to the Sylvermyst, her hand reaching for her shotgun only to come up empty. Dammit. She was getting a new weapon and hell would freeze over before Ariyal would take it away again.
“I don’t know what it is,” she admitted through clenched teeth.
Ariyal paused, allowing his own powers to search the house. “Tearloch.” His face was grim as he met Jaelyn’s wary gaze. “He’s called a spirit.”
“Can it hurt us?”
“Tearloch has a talent for raising the most powerful souls.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she muttered, glancing back toward the window. “We need to get out of here.”
“Not without the child.”
“For God’s sake.” She turned back, not surprised to find his beautiful features set in stubborn lines. “Have you ever heard the phrase ‘live to fight another day’?”
“Have you ever heard of ‘not putting off ’til tomorrow what you can do today’?” he countered, giving a tiny wave of the bow. “Get the child, Sergei.”
The mage shook his head, backing until he hit a cherry-wood armoire set in the corner of the nursery.
“No, I can’t.”
Ariyal shrugged. “Then I’ll kill you.”
“Better an arrow through the heart than what the Dark Lord’s minions will do,” Sergei choked out.
Ariyal hid a wry smile as he watched Jaelyn’s struggle against her desire to rip out his throat.