She sighed. “A pity.”
Beneath him, Kata used the sudden distraction to scramble free from the weight of his body, her gaze pinned on the far wall of the cell.
“Yannah,” she breathed, “something’s happening.”
“The gateway is opening,” the tiny demon announced.
With a liquid motion Uriel was on his feet, yanking the large sword from the scabbard angled across his back.
He’d packed light when he’d left Victor’s lair. A pair of jeans, a black T-shirt, combat boots, and his weapons.
What else did a vampire need?
“Gateway?” he growled.
Yannah nodded. “To the underworld.”
Uriel glanced toward the swirling mist that was forming near the lead-lined wall.
“Christ. I told Victor this was a trap,” he muttered, whirling to point the tip of his sword in the center of Kata’s chest. “Close the gateway, witch, or I’ll carve out your heart.”
She didn’t so much as flinch, her eyes flashing with a proud fury.
“I’m a gypsy, not a witch, you dolt.”
Uriel ground his teeth, refusing to admit his fascination with the woman’s passionate courage. Dammit. The gates of hell were parting. Now wasn’t the time for distractions.
“You can call yourself the queen of England if you want, just close the damned gateway.”