9-1-1. He didn’t plan on being there when the cops came poking around, but he had to get an ambulance to Mrs. Murphy if she had any hope of surviving. He gave the dispatcher his address as well so they’d find her, then hung up, immediately scrolling through the numbers on his phone. Lance DuLaque, one of the few friends Zach had kept in contact with from his Order of Ancients days, was the Order’s go-to guy in the area. If anyone could tell him the reason behind Ares’s summons, it would be Lance.
“ ’Lo?”
“Lance. It’s Merchant. Got a problem.”
“Sorry, mate, now’s not a good time. Find some place to lay low until I can call you back.”
“This can’t wait. I’ve got a dead Vamp across the street and . . .” The orb glowed brighter, warming against his chest. “And a summons from Ares.”
“You’ve been called up?”
“Looks that way.” Putting the phone on speaker, Zach carried it to his bedroom and pulled a battered guitar case from beneath his bed and a worn backpack—stuffed with clothes and supplies he might need—from the closet. Old habits from being called to duty at a moment’s notice died hard. “What’s going on?”
“Thought it was just rumors, but if they’re calling you in, it must be fact.”
Exasperated and desperate to get the hell out of Dodge before cops showed up, Zach slung the case and the bag over his shoulders and rummaged through the nightstand for his keys. “What’s a fact, Lance? I gotta shitload of trouble over here. I don’t have time for riddles.”
The silence on the other end of the line lasted until Zach was in his garage, raising the door.
“Tartarus, mate,” Lance finally said. “It’s been opened. And by midnight tonight, the only place Hell will exist anymore is on Earth.”
Chapter Two
7:30 p.m.
4 hours and 30 minutes before the fall . . .
Lance agreed to meet Zach at Key West International Airport at eight o’clock. It wouldn’t take that long for Zach to get there, but before he could borrow Lance’s private jet and make haste to the closest connection to Olympus—St. Augustine—and answer his summons to Ares, Zach had something he had to take care of. Someone he couldn’t leave behind.
Shanna.
Getting her to come without argument would involve a longer fight than the one he’d just experienced with the Vampyre, but as he pulled into her driveway, the beacon bounced against his chest, still warm from Ares’s summons. Knowing what was about to happen to her world made him more determined than ever to make sure she was on that plane with him.
Keeping the guitar case securely over his shoulder, he strode up her steps and paused, before knocking, to check his watch again. She should definitely be home by now. Her police cruiser was in the driveway, but that didn’t mean anything, since she only drove it while on duty. Maybe she’d gone out for a quick dinner—or, gods forbid, a date. He rapped once, dispelling that thought before it made him angry enough to leave her ass here.
No one answered. He knocked again, waited a full minute, then peered through the garage window to make sure her personal car was there. It was. Still didn’t mean she was home, though.
Shit.
He made his way around the side of the house to the window that peered inside the bedroom he knew all too well. It was cracked open, which meant she was, indeed, home. Shanna was a creature of habit. She came home, cracked all the windows for fresh air, tidied up the house, then showered. Every day. At least, she had when they’d been together. He doubted her rituals would have changed drastically in the past six months.
As he inched the window upward and it gave a tiny squeak of protest, he stopped, winced, and waited to see if she’d heard. The last thing he needed was for her to think he was an intruder and pull her weapon on him. But she wasn’t answering her damned door, and was leaving him few options. When no sound of movement came from inside, he inched the window open enough to squeeze his body through, and landed quietly on the carpet beside the bed.
He spun in a slow circle, surveying the room, the uniform on the bed, and the tiny crack of light coming from beneath the bathroom door. The sound of footsteps on tile inside made him pause, and his gaze caught sight of her gun and handcuffs on