roughly picked Hazel up and tossed her frail old body over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
“It’s time,” he said, handing Ayela Hazel’s bag of potions and powders.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Isabel asked.
For some reason she was torn. She knew at a very fundamental level that working with the darkness, even in the smallest way, always had a downside, but … for reasons she couldn’t quite explain, she wanted to see the ghidora summoned, she wanted Hector to send it to kill Phane. Even if he survived the attack, it was an attack that he just about had to meet in person. The satisfaction of bringing the war to his doorstep was very alluring. For far too long, he’d sent his minions after them. The chance to retaliate in kind was compelling. Yet … where darkness was involved … darkness was involved.
“Yes.”
“It could have consequences,” Isabel said.
“I know,” Hector said, stepping around her as he carried Hazel toward the black-and-white room.
Isabel followed him, trying to come up with an argument that might reach him, some string of words that would change the loss he felt or undo his implacable need for vengeance. Nothing came to her. Hazel deserved to die, but Isabel was far more worried about the consequences of involving a demon in the process.
Hector didn’t waver. He carried Hazel over his shoulder like so much produce until he was before the altar, looking at the remains of his brother. He set Hazel aside and very carefully picked up Horace’s corpse, carrying him to the far side of the room and gently laying him on the floor next to the wall.
“I wish I could do more for you, Brother,” Hector whispered.
He strode up to a wide-eyed Hazel and stopped, looking down on her, his expression a condemnation. Then he picked her up and put her on the altar. When she struggled, he sat her up and slapped her across the face so hard that her head lolled to the side. Hector laid her down and started chanting the words engraved on the altar without any hesitation.
“You don’t have to do this,” Isabel said.
Hector ignored her, chanting more forcefully, his voice filling the large chamber. Hazel came to her senses and started to get up when she was seized by wisps of black smoke suddenly appearing all around her. She froze in place, paralyzed by her life essence draining away from her and into the ghidora.
Streamers of energy, most dark and muddy, flowed from Hazel to the stalker-demon until she shriveled up and died, the beast coming alive, its eyes and tail blades glowing with power and murder. It leapt from its circle and ran down the large corridor to the opening in the side of the mountain … and then it was gone.
Hector slumped to his knees, crying with his head in his hands. Isabel left him to his grief, but Trajan and his men were alarmed by the turn of events. The prince started to approach Hector, when Isabel intercepted him, pulling him aside.
“What just happened?”
“Hector just avenged his brother by sacrificing Hazel in exactly the same way she sacrificed Horace.”
Trajan looked at the platform, then at Horace’s corpse and nodded. “I accept Hector’s motives, but what of the demon? Such a thing cannot be allowed to roam free.”
“It won’t. Hector sent it to kill Phane,” Isabel said. “Then it will come back here.”
“Do you think it will succeed?”
“No,” Isabel said. “But at least Phane will know we’re thinking about him, and that’s worth something.”
“I have never seen such a monstrous thing,” Trajan said. “How could anyone stand against it, even Phane?”
“Magic,” Isabel said.
Trajan hefted his club and looked at it intently. “If magic can defeat such a thing, and if this bone can resist magic, then this club makes me the equal of any wizard or witch.”
“Perhaps, but all it takes is one well-placed blade and you’ll fall just the same as anyone else,” Isabel said. “Don’t let the power of that club go to your head.”
“How can I not?” Trajan said. “With this, I can finally rid my house of the Sin’Rath and kill Phane as well.”
“One thing at a time,” Isabel said. “Just remember, you can still die from an arrow, or a sword, or a dagger, or a jaguar, or from those horrible leeches in the swamp or …”
“I get your point,” Trajan said, forestalling her with a hand held up in surrender. “Where would you go