She hesitated, then nodded.
“We could find Pandemonia’s portal.” Thresholds like that were valuable—and vulnerable. They were often hidden. “You’ll direct me, and I’ll protect you.”
“Ha! I will never leave a place like this to slog through a war-torn demon plane. You can close the stone door against the dragon, and we’ll wait out our time.”
“You and I could skirt the fray.” Her speed was considerable, a fact that he used to curse. “I’ll keep you safe.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Not even going to discuss this. I’m going to stay in my gold house and sleep on my gold bed and ski down my piles of gold like Scrooge McDuck.”
Whatever that meant. Another TV reference? “We can’t stay here. Sooner or later that beast will get frustrated enough to dig through stone.”
She pursed her lips. “Out there, we’ll face nothing but danger, even more than the homicidal demon armies. This place is rumored to be littered with traps.”
“What kind of traps?”
“You know how the humans have certain ideas of hell? Well, all those ideas are supposed to be based on the realities of Pandemonia. Torments of fire. Hell beasts of legend. Unearthly pleasures followed by punishments. The condemned cursed to repeat labors.”
“Like Sisyphus having to roll a stone up a hill for eternity?”
“Bingo.”
Thronos was undaunted. “Then we’d best find that portal as soon as possible.”
“Nope. You will never convince me to leave this temple—”
Whirring gears sounded from above. The circular ceiling started to rotate. “What’s happening, Thronos?”
Gold dust rained down as the ceiling shifted to reveal a pie-shaped opening.
A meaty, scaled arm shot through it, black dragon claws grappling over the floor beside them.
NINETEEN
Thronos snatched her hand, sprinting for the main cave—then skidded to a stop just beyond the door. The outside opening was blocked by another dragon, apparently the same one from earlier! Had it returned with reinforcements?
Back to the temple. “They’re getting angrier,” she cried. “Fire comes next!”
The dragon perched at the ceiling opening sucked in such a deep breath that Lanthe’s braids rose. She heard a hiss like a punctured oxygen tank. That sound must be its fuel.
Just as fire erupted, Thronos hunched over her against the wall, covering her with his wings, two mighty shields. The force of the flames was like a boot kick to his back; he lurched forward against Lanthe.
“Ah, gods, are you okay?”
He bit out, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
Had he just made a joke? Now?
“Ready to leave?” Sweat beaded his strained face.
“How?” She could swear she scented . . . melting gold. Was the dragon fire burning it to liquid?
When the flames receded, Thronos lowered his wing, glancing out. “The temple has another secret doorway.”
She peeked out through two folds of his wings. “But the dragon’s still above.” She spotted something that couldn’t be right. Amid a piping hot puddle of molten gold was a red medallion on a matching chain.
Red gold. It had to be silisk gold—a.k.a. dragon’s gold.
“Down!” Thronos covered her again, and once more a blast of flames battered them. “We’re going to run when he draws his next breath.”