Jess stood in the middle of a rusty cage suspended in midair, gently swinging over a sea of spikes.
“What’s the status?” he asked this crew, ignoring the blistering, churning need to grab Damarion and toss him at those spikes.
Damarion stiffened, probably having the same thought, but their issues could wait.
“We’re having a rather bad day, Austin Steele, thanks for asking,” Edgar said, staring in at Jess. He cradled one badly burned hand to his chest, the skin blackened and blistered and peeling away.
“Edgar tested out the barrier,” Niamh said, looking up at the ceiling, then down to the ground. He doubted it had given her any new insights. “Ye can see what it did to him. Vampire skin is more fragile than the flesh of a gargoyle, but wings are a different matter entirely. We can’t fly through this thing, and without wings, no one is getting anywhere but dead.”
“I offered to try anyway,” Mr. Tom said, his chest puffed up.
“Who would clean the house if you died?” Edgar asked. “I don’t like spiders.”
“Have you seen the mages?” Austin peered into the shadows layering the room. Not even a flicker of movement caught his eye. “Is she being monitored somehow?”
“Through the years, I’ve heard rumors of a basajaun in these parts, the keeper of the invisible prison.” Niamh shook her head. “I never passed any remarks on the story. The storyteller was always a drunk muppet. But…”
“I’ve run across the basajaun that lives on this mountain.” Austin walked along the barrier, cutting in front of the others, to see if it completely attached to the rock along the sides. If not, there was a chance he could peel it back in his animal form, which had a degree of magical resistance. “I traveled through these parts without realizing it was his mountain, and he was all set to challenge me for it. I deferred and left it at that. I had no idea about the prison. No one mentioned those rumors to me, or I would’ve checked it out.”
“How’d these mages know about it?” Damarion asked.
“Good question,” Niamh responded.
“Going up against that basajaun would be a helluva fight.” Austin crossed to the other side, and Damarion shifted in unease as he passed. “It would be a hairy situation.”
“No pun intended,” Ulric murmured.
“Not to mention the mages, who have some real skill,” Austin said. “I could take the basajaun, but you all would have to handle the mages. I couldn’t handle both.”
“Except where are they all?” Niamh asked, putting out her hands. “They must have left Jessie here for safekeeping while they went to do…something, but they’ll be back, sure they will, and we still don’t know how they cut Jessie off from us.”
Austin cracked his neck and then hovered a hand next to the barrier. It gave off no pulse or charge. He could feel no magic at all. Very fine work, indeed. Mages of this caliber would only work for a hefty sum or an important boss.
A boss who may or may not be on the way to collect his or her prize.
A boss who may or may not be Elliot Graves.
They couldn’t waste time trying to find the lower entrance. They had to get Jess out of there now, and the best way to do that was to help her help herself. It was to empower her to play hero. He might not be able to draw the magic out of her, but he could draw out her confidence and her faith in herself. He could give her the courage to face her situation. It was what a good alpha did.
Besides, he could not bear to leave her in that cage while he stayed removed, safe. His place was fighting beside her, and he’d be damned if he’d back away because of a little pain.
He licked his lips. He could get to that cage, he knew he could. It would take every ounce of power he had, but he could do it. He could even rip that door open. Then what, though? He couldn’t jump down in human form—the fall would kill him before he could heal. And he couldn’t jump down in animal form because the path was too small. The spikes would kill him before he could heal.
“Do you think that chain could hold the weight of my animal form smashing onto it?” he asked. The chain holding it off the spikes was thick and well made, but the rust signified age. It wasn’t what it