Or maybe it was his heart.
Whichever, she somehow managed to overcome her bloodlust. The question was ... why?
He was powerful, but if she truly wanted him dead, or even captured and hauled to the Oracles, there wasn’t much he could do to stop her.
Which only made him all the more curious what the hell she was doing there. And what she intended to do with him when she grew tired of her game.
Worries for another day, he was forced to accept as a dark mist floated through the wall and moved to hover next to the crib.
Lowering the bow that would be useless against the spirit, he watched as the mist solidified into the shape of a tall, sparse man with gaunt features and shaved head who appeared to be covered in a satin robe with a heavy silver pendant hung about his neck.
The spirit reached a thin hand toward the sleeping child. “Ah, the anointed one.”
His voice rumbled through the air, bringing with it the foul scent of the netherworld.
Ariyal stepped forward, but he was abruptly distracted as the mage moved at the same time, his thin face hard with revulsion.
“Rafael.” He breathed the name as if it was a curse.
The spirit slowly lifted his head, glancing toward the mage. Amusement seemed to flutter over the gaunt features before his lips twisted into a sneer.
“It is Master Rafael to you, mage.”
“No wizard is my master,” Sergei hissed.
Ariyal shifted to keep an eye on the two magical buffoons as well as Jaelyn, who was clearly unnerved by the sight of the spirit.
“You two acquainted?” he drawled.
“Our paths have crossed,” Sergei spat out, his gaze never leaving Rafael. “But while I am a true magic-user, he has given his soul to the Dark Lord.”
Ariyal arched a brow. “And you?”
The spirit released a low laugh that sent a shudder down Ariyal’s spine. Working with spirits had never been his talent and he rarely used his powers to draw the ghosts from the netherworld. Especially not one with the strength that he could sense pulsing about the dead wizard.
“He pledges his loyalty to the highest bidder,” Rafael said, his hollow voice echoing eerily through the room. “A magical hack.”
“Rafael.” The soft whisper came directly beside him and with a low curse he turned his head to discover Jaelyn regarding the spirit with a sudden suspicion. Holy shit. He hadn’t seen her move. “I recognize the name,” she said, shifting her head to meet his startled gaze.
“You know this spirit?”
She shook her head. “No, but the Chicago vampire clan battled a dark wizard who was attempting to sacrifice the Chalice and open a pathway through the dimensions a few months ago.” She shuddered, her attention returning to the wizard. “They killed him.”
Rafael pressed a hand to his pendant, his features twisting with fury.
“I was surrounded by incompetent fools.” His gaze lowered to the babe who remained unnaturally still. “On this occasion I will have the means to restore my prince to his rightful place.”
Ariyal glanced toward Jaelyn. “Prince?”
She curled her lips in disgust. “A few of the more dedicated disciples have elevated themselves to the position of deities and the Dark Lord to their personal prince.”
“I would have thought the deity theory might be reconsidered after he actually died,” he pointed out, allowing his words to carry toward the arrogant wizard. Spirit or not he was a nasty piece of goods. “That’s not very godlike.”
“I knew it was only a matter of time before my master rescued me from the pits of hell,” the wizard snarled, a crazed light shimmering in his eyes. “Death has no hold over me.”
“Obviously neither does sanity,” Jaelyn muttered.
About to agree, Ariyal felt the familiar stir of air before a portal formed next to the wizard and Tearloch stepped into the room.