tossed the mage on the floor at Styx’s feet.
“Dante, so good of you to join us,” he murmured.
“And I come bearing gifts.”
“So I see.”
He lowered his gaze to watch Sergei struggle to a kneeling position.
His lip curled. The mage looked distinctly worse for the wear with his silver hair tangled and his suit covered in a thick layer of dust.
“The weasel was trying to hide beneath the rubble,” Dante revealed.
“Typical,” Styx said, his voice thick with disgust. “A coward to the bitter end, eh, mage?”
“I wasn’t hiding,” the man ridiculously protested. “I was knocked unconscious after my battle with the wizard.”
“Yeah right,” Dante scoffed.
The mage sniffed, trying to gather the tattered remains of his pride.
“You can believe what you want.”
“I don’t give a shit why you were cowering beneath the rocks,” Styx snapped, glaring down at the lean face that had lost a considerable amount of its arrogance. “All I want to know is how long it will take you to open the barrier.”
The mage blinked, as if Styx were speaking a foreign language.
“I can’t.”
Salvatore shifted to stand at his side. “He’s lying.”
The mage lifted pleading hands. “No, I’m telling you that I don’t have the power.”
With one smooth movement Styx was reaching down to wrap his fingers around Sergei’s throat and jerking him upright. Holding him so they were eye to eye, Styx ignored the mage’s feet that dangled off the ground and even his struggle to breathe.
He wanted answers.
And he wanted them now.
“Everyone knows that you’ve been preparing to resurrect the Dark Lord for centuries,” he growled. “Obviously you have a spell that will reach through the barrier.”
Grasping Styx’s wrist, Sergei turned an interesting shade of purple.
“I’ll admit that I have prepared for the ceremony,” he gasped.
“Then do it.”
The pale eyes flared with annoyance. “First of all, I can’t just ‘do it.’”
Styx gave him a violent shake. “Mage.”
“Wait,” the man pleaded. “I need an altar and a sacrifice and ...”
“You’re starting to piss me off,” Styx growled.
“Trust me, you don’t want him pissed off, Sergei,” Salvatore informed the mage.
Sergei didn’t seem to need the warning as he shivered in terror.
“I’m telling you the truth,” he pleaded. “Such a massive spell takes a lot of time and effort to perform.”
“Ah, he has performance anxiety,” Salvatore mocked.
“It’s not that,” Sergei denied.
Styx gave him another shake. Just because he liked seeing the mage flop around like a bobblehead doll.
“Then what is it?” he demanded.
Sergei grimaced, clearly reluctant to admit the truth. “I’m not really sure that it will work.”
Styx’s fingers tightened in frustration. Did the mage think he was stupid?
“Lying bastard.”
“No,” Sergei squeaked. “Please, you must listen to me.”
Styx allowed his grip to lessen enough that the idiot could explain.
“Speak quickly.”
“And as if your life depends on it,” Salvatore added, his eyes glowing with a dangerous golden light.
The King of Weres was always a threat. But if he actually turned wolfy he would devour the mage in one bite.
“When Marika approached me I was a hack mystic in the Russian Court,” Sergei admitted.
Styx narrowed his gaze. He’d already gotten the background information on Sergei when he threatened Tane and Laylah.
“This is quickly?”
“She promised me eternal life and power beyond my deepest fantasy if I would join with her.” He licked his dusty lips. “All I had to do was discover a spell that would resurrect the Dark Lord.”
“Marika wasn’t an easy mark,” Styx said. He hadn’t personally known the female vampire, but from all he’d heard she had been as cunning as she was ambitious. “She would never have taken your word that you could satisfy her needs.”
“No, I swiftly found a spell that should work.” Sergei grimaced. “At least in theory.”
Styx ground his teeth. He already knew he wasn’t going to like what the bastard had to say.
“But?”
“But I don’t know if I have the necessary power to complete it,” the mage confessed in a rush.
Styx fleetingly considered the pleasure of simply throttling the worthless ass and leaving him for the worms. Then sanity thankfully returned and he leashed his more primitive urges.
With enough force to make the mage grunt in pain, Styx returned him to his feet and released his hold on his neck.
For now the mage was their best shot at opening a rift in the dimensions.
God help them all.
“We’re about to find out,” he informed the mage.
Sergei shook his head, his fingers messaging his bruised neck.
“I told you, even if I wanted to do the ceremony I need an altar, as well as a sacrifice, not to