The Warrior King (Inferno Rising #3) - Abigail Owen Page 0,23
of signal for the goat. After a pat from the gargoyle, he danced to a window, hopped up on the ledge, then seemed to drop out of sight. No doubt the thing was nimbly scaling the rocks that made up the castle walls.
Carrick, apparently unworried about his pet, crossed the room to them, speaking to the children in that foreign tongue and scattering them as he waved his arms to shoo them away. Though they seemed to giggle as they ran to their mothers. Hard to tell.
Samael rose to his feet and almost offered a hand to Meira to help her up, clenching his hands to stop himself. Touching was out.
“We have discussed it,” the gargoyle said. “You may stay.” He focused on Samael. “Our existence and location must remain a secret from the outside world.”
“You have my word,” Samael said.
Carrick stalked closer, human face contorting as if the monster was trying to get out. “Do not break our trust.”
Chapter Five
Pytheios stood in the doorway to the recently abandoned room. One built for a specific purpose.
Roughly carved from a natural cavern, it contained only a rock slab the height of a table and size of a long, single bed. Like a pedestal for a vampire’s coffin, or a platform for ritual sacrifice. The latter was closer to the truth. Against one wall dangled chains and shackles of varying sizes, all made from dragon steel.
This place had been his secret in a never-used part of his mountain. Everest, with its massive size in combination with the many millennia that dragon shifters had made their homes within its caverned walls, was now a twisting maze of tunnels, rooms, and chambers. No one, not even Pytheios, knew all of it. Which was why it had been easy to find a place for Rhiamon to wield her powerful magic.
Here they’d spent countless days together as she’d siphoned the energy, the life force, from supernatural creatures into Pytheios and herself, a necessary evil in order to prolong their own lives, granting them more time to find immortality.
They’d been close. He’d tasted that power for the briefest moment.
Now, he glared at the spot where that bitch of a phoenix, Skylar Amon, had attacked. Even still the room reeked of magic, which had a remarkably similar scent to ozone, sweat, and smoke. The smoke would be from the phoenix and the hellhound Rhiamon had been draining. Pytheios, locked in the spell and weakened, hadn’t gotten the chance to light his own fire.
“My king.” The voice of one of his guard reached him telepathically. Likely one flying patrol tonight.
Needing to conserve energy, Pytheios shifted the smallest part of himself he could, a single finger turning scaled with a claw at the end. “Yes?”
“King Volos of the White Clan is on approach. However, we were not informed of his arrival. He is asking permission to speak with you.”
Satisfaction settled in Pytheios’s gut. He wasn’t surprised that Volos had come, merely at how long it had taken him to get here given the incentive. “Let him in. Tell Jakkobah to greet our guest. I will join them when I can.”
“At once, sir.”
The telepathic connection shut off, but Pytheios did not leave to meet Volos as he arrived. The white king could wait.
Pytheios had a more immediate problem. If he didn’t get another boost of energy soon, he wouldn’t make it through the next two weeks, let alone through the war. A big influx, too. Smaller creatures like kitsune would no longer suffice. In his state, a hellhound might not even be enough. Not that they held one captive to suck dry anyway. The dogs were damn difficult to capture.
The question was, did he risk Rhiamon’s currently unsteady grasp on reality to ask this favor? If he did, what creature would they siphon and where?
Which was why he was here, staring at an empty room.
Looking at the space now, no one could detect the horror the phoenix had wrought in this small, unassuming space. Skylar had murdered his witch and sent him far away when he was so low on energy it had taken interacting with pathetic humans to get in touch with his people and slowly find his way home. All while that Amon cunt had escaped under the noses of his people.
Layers of humiliation and fury lashing at his insides he wasn’t soon to forget.
That one act, and the results, were exactly why he needed to eradicate the world of their kind.