Sorceress, Interrupted - By A. J. Menden Page 0,91

both stared at each other. Everything about him was the same but different. His eyes were just a bit bluer, his face a little less lined with age. His every movement seemed a bit more fluid. But there was something else I could see: the warrior in him, the power behind him, everything I’d been attracted to but wasn’t apparent in the normal world.

He wasn’t wearing his usual clothes; he was in a strange mix of techno garb, like a cyborg from a movie, and leather, like a gladiator. The tattoos that usually adorned his skin seemed to writhe on his body like a second armor. When I looked closely, I saw tentacles attached to his chest. The black magic was still in him; it permeated his consciousness even here. But another part of him seemed to glow like gold. That part was familiar.

It was me, I saw—the part of my soul I had given up for him. I realized then that I was actually seeing him, not just the shell of his body, but what he really was.

He was staring just as hard. I worried at what he was seeing, if he was seeing me. Something cold and dark? Something horrible?

“Wow.” He seemed enthralled, as if he observed something wonderful. So, he definitely wasn’t seeing me.

I glanced behind me but could only see gray mist. “What are you looking at?”

“You,” he breathed, like it was some sort of prayer. “You’re really something else, aren’t you?”

I’ve never felt more naked in my life. “S-so are you.”

He reached out a hand, brushed my cheek with a faint caress. “And what about you?” he said.

I shivered. “What?”

“Do you need me to come back?” His hand found my waist.

“Yes. Of course,” I said.

“Why?”

My heart fell. I couldn’t say it. There was no need, anyway. “I . . . just think it’d be better if you came back. Your daughter—”

The glow went out of him. His hand left my waist and he started to turn away. “Just go, Fantazia.” The fog seemed to rise, growing thicker and surrounding us.

“No, Cyrus. Come on. Please. You’ve got to come.”

“If you can’t say it here, you can’t say it anywhere.” He turned away and made to stride off.

“No, wait!” I said, pulling on his arm, dragging him back. He turned reluctantly. “You have to come back, because . . .”

“Because?”

I took a deep breath and met his gaze, drowned in eyes that were so much bluer here than in the real world. “Because I love you.”

I pulled him close and kissed him. His arms were suddenly around me, his lips on mine, and I felt the most at home that I’ve ever been in my entire life. I didn’t feel scared anymore. I wasn’t alone anymore. Cyrus kissed me like we were the only people in the universe, like I was the only thing that mattered in the whole damn world.

We were still kissing as we came back to reality. I opened my eyes slowly, taking in my surroundings. We were in Cyrus’s room at the Elite Hands of Justice headquarters, on Cyrus’s bed. I was lying on top of him and he was staring up at me with a strange but peaceful smile on his face. Wesley sat to the side in a chair.

“I told you not to forget I was here,” he said.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

“I know where Dylan is,” Cyrus said to Wesley.

I moved to sit on the edge of the bed. I was still reeling from the shock of everything that had happened. Cyrus sat nearby, though maintaining a respectable distance in front of my father. Even at our age, I guess no one wants to be caught in an impromptu make-out session by a parent. “And the Cult of the Dragon. They’re getting ready to let him free.”

“We’ll get there and stop them,” Wesley promised. “Give me the coordinates and I’ll speak to Paul about strategy.”

“I’m coming with you,” Cyrus said.

Wesley nodded. “We’re going to need everyone—including Fantazia.” He looked at me with hope in his eye, and I nodded assent without any negotiation. “But we can’t go into this without a plan, especially against the Dragon. And . . . you need to take a few moments for recovery.” He seemed to be watching Cyrus carefully, as if he still wasn’t sure what my spell had done to him.

“I’m fine,” Cyrus said. “I—”

Wesley cut him off. “You and Fantazia need to talk.” His eyes burned into me as he turned. “About what she