much of Ian—rare, surprising, dangerous, and oh-so beautiful . . .
The Leviathan pulled the flowers into itself. They shimmered against the watery veil of its body for a moment, then both of them disappeared back into the sea.
Ashael let out an audible breath. “Whatever those were, thank the gods you had them.”
Must mean my offering was accepted. “Anything else I should know about that could get me killed or drowned forever?” I asked while trying to smother my sense of loss over the roses.
Ashael gave me a sunny smile. “Not off the top of my head.”
Ian gave Ashael a look that would have made anyone else back up a few steps. Then he went to the plane, grabbed his own suitcase from the smoldering remains, took mine as well, and returned to lay his free hand against my back.
“Let’s head inland before the sea sends us any new visitors.”
I don’t know what I expected from a magically cloaked island filled with people rejected from every supernatural species. Gloomy caves? Stone castles? Replicas of Superman’s Fortress of Solitude? Whatever my expectations, they hadn’t included something that reminded me of a Sandals Resort with a few medieval twists.
Bonfires made up the exterior illumination around buildings that could have been hotels or mansions, depending on your perspective. Multicolored tile roofs added vivid splashes of color atop their sand-toned walls, with plants spilling like green waterfalls over the residences’ many balconies. Elaborate slides ended at mosaic-tiled swimming pools, with cabanas taking up space around the many aquatic recreation areas.
One thing was certain; I wasn’t touching that water. For all I knew, those pools were day-care centers for baby Leviathan.
And all of the recreational areas were empty. The rows of windows on the hotels/mansions reflected the bonfires’ glow back at us, making it impossible to see inside. I could hear the sounds of people within the buildings, though, even if few had heartbeats. The pool areas might be empty, but this place was far from deserted.
New arrivals must make the island’s residents skittish. I couldn’t blame them. If they were here, their species and others wanted them dead for reasons that basically amounted to “You’re different, so you scare me.” Funny how those same people rarely paused to consider how terrifying they were, handing down death sentences from their positions of power or privilege.
“Yonah’s in this house,” Ashael said, striding in front of us. “Come. He’ll be expecting us—”
Ian had Ashael in a headlock before I could blink, that horn snapping out to draw a pearl of blood beneath the demon’s eye. I knew I was bordering on the irrational side of exhaustion when I could only think, What now?
“What are you doing?” Ashael hissed at Ian.
“Testing a theory.” Ian’s voice was like silk sliding over daggers. “Earlier, my mate Timothy jumped back from this horn as if it were pure silver aimed at his heart. You also didn’t move when it was near your eye on the plane, and you’re not moving now even though it isn’t made of demon bone. Means this horn is universally lethal, isn’t it?”
My eyes widened when Ashael gritted out, “Clever boy.”
The horn could kill vampires and demons? And form into different dimensions as if it knew what its wielder needed? No wonder Ashael had wanted it! Every warrior I knew would give their right arm for such a weapon, myself included.
“Pity you can’t teleport yourself free,” Ian continued. “This island’s spelled against that, as I found out when I tried to get Veritas to safety after you crashed the plane, and multiple times again when that watery monstrosity threatened her. Still, makes sense. No telling who’d show up if just anyone could teleport in here, right?”
Ashael could still rip all the water out of Ian, and Ian didn’t know that. “Ian, let him go,” I began.
“He tried to kill me.”
That cut my protest off. “What?” I said, fury slicing through me when Ashael glanced away from my accusing stare.
“Yes, by neglecting to mention something else important about the horn.” Ian’s tone was light despite the razor’s edge of rage running through it. “Namely, that whoever takes it from its owner will get the back of their head blown off.”
That’s why Ashael had dropped his blood-generated spy cam right after Ian had found the horn! He hadn’t been tired. Ashael hadn’t wanted me to see the proof of his treachery when he could simply claim ignorance and call it an “accident” later.