"They've gone past the perimeter spell," Zellar nodded grimly, satisfied that the last of Mazareal's power could do this for him—that the last gasp of core power enabled his perimeter spell to detect anything that moved past it, including something obviously invisible. It worried him, though, that it was invisible. Until then, he'd imagined that only Viregruz held that talent. A shiver raced down Zellar's spine.
"Then set the time on the destruction spell—thirty ticks." Viregruz had a front row seat, watching through a wide window from a distance far enough that he wouldn't be affected, per Zellar's estimation. Zellar hadn't led him wrong yet. Viregruz was going to enjoy this.
Pearlina had been a true treasure. Too bad she was sentenced to die on Le-Ath Veronis. Zellar had set a spell so he'd know if particular questions were asked. Pearlina hadn't been instructed not to answer those questions—oh, no. She'd been allowed to give out the information freely, leading any enemies straight to the gray stone building and into a trap set by Zellar. Anyone who approached the former headquarters was destined to die.
Viregruz's two vampire Blood Captains stood at his back. They'd purposely not fed when they'd wakened—if there was any life left among attacking ASD agents, the vampires were set to drink and then kill. Viregruz, too, had left orders that if the bitch queen came along, he would be allowed to kill her. He'd see how she stood against a King Vampire who had a powerful warlock at his side.
Lissa Beth, get us down there! Norian's mental scream had me cringing in pain. The verbal shout in my corporeal ear would have hurt less. Norian's agents were even more restless now—they weren't used to this and most of them hadn't a clue what was going on. They could only see that they were floating somehow, with no control over anything and no idea if they'd ever be solid again.
Norian, please stop shouting; I can't hear myself think, I sent as calmly as I could.
Norian was cursing and shouting still, so I wasn't sure he'd even heard me. I didn't want to go into that building for some reason. Something was terribly, terribly wrong. I did drop down a bit, though, to get a better look. There was no activity anywhere around it. Not even steam rose from the vents, as it did on the buildings surrounding it. I went cold. Norian was still shouting, and now Lendill was getting in on it.
The enemy was so close—right on top of the gray stone building, if Zellar's estimation was correct. "You'll have your revenge in seven ticks Lord Viregruz," Zellar was as excited as he'd ever been. "Five. Four. Three. Two. One."
Norian finally shut up the moment every window in the building below us blasted outward with a shattering of glass and a terrible boom, followed by billowing smoke and flames. I might never know if Zellar had spelled the blast well enough so the building would remain standing with the roof partially intact, but that's what happened.
Norian's agents would have been killed in that blast—no doubt about that—and I wasn't even sure I could have gathered Norian and Lendill up in time if I'd suspected it was coming. Not if we'd gone down there, as Norian wanted us to. But this meant that Zellar, Solar Red and Black Mist had relocated. They'd set this up as a trap. No doubt, I'd been stupid enough to swallow everything Pearlina told me without questioning it or being suspicious over how easily it had come.
Lissa Beth? Norian's voice was small and quiet as I watched the building burn its contents below us.
Norian, they set a trap for us. It almost worked.
"Zellar, you are a warlock among warlocks." Viregruz stood and nodded respectfully at his strongest wizard. "Please inform Tetsurna Prylvis that our adversary has been neutralized. Invite him up for a glass of wine while we watch our enemies burn." Viregruz was as gleeful as he might ever be.
Zellar wasn't about to go himself—he snapped a finger and a flunky came running. "You heard Lord Viregruz—what are you waiting for? Bring the Lord of Solar Red immediately, and several bottles of wine. We wish to celebrate the downfall of our common enemy," Zellar demanded, turning back to watch the fire through the broken windows across the street. He had his doubts, however. All he could see was fire, and his talent had never been sufficient to allow him to see through flames. Other warlocks could do it, but when he'd been at his lessons more than two thousand years earlier, he'd never mastered the ability. That, plus a few other failed lessons had kept him out of King Wylend's handpicked warlock elite. Zellar clenched his hands. He had an alternate strategy in mind, just in case things didn't go as planned. Perhaps it was time to put that plan into action.
Settling everyone atop a tall building across the street from the burning structure, I sighed and stared at what could have been our deaths. Shaky breaths were drawn all around me as thirty agents checked their bodies over, making sure they were still intact. Their weapons and gear came next. Norian came to stand beside me.
"Lissa Beth, I want you to remind me next time that it's a damn good thing you don't listen to a single thing I say."
"Or yell," I muttered.
"Or yell," he echoed, turning to watch the black smoke across the street billow upward, blocking off any view of the night sky. I wasn't surprised that nobody had come to gawk, even—Zellar, Solar Red and Black Mist had likely made everyone afraid to come near.
"Well, where do you think they are?" Lendill came to stand on my other side.
"No idea," Norian muttered. That's when I heard the noise.
Zellar was clapped on the back—hard—by Tetsurna Prylvis, the exalted leader of Solar Red. Tetsurna Prylvis was well over six feet in height and his girth was enormous. Zellar was repulsed by Prylvis' penchant for dining on humanoid flesh, but he hid his distaste well. Prylvis was laughing, too—a booming sound that Zellar imagined might rattle windows and shake buildings. Zellar didn't care. He had other things on his mind.
"Lord Viregruz, Lord Prylvis, I think I should order a celebration," Zellar said smoothly, bowing to Black Mist and Solar Red. "If you will excuse me, I shall go and ask for preparations to begin."
"Tell the cooks I want my favorite," Prylvis shouted. Prylvis knew not to slap Viregruz on the back; the Head of Black Mist would kill him swiftly for even the slightest of touches.
"I'll inform your cooks," Zellar bowed to Prylvis again and turned to go. He walked sedately across the floor of the upper room, opened the door to the fire escape and the bare steps leading downward, shutting the door quietly behind him. He walked carefully down until he was sure Viregruz could no longer hear. Then he began to run.
"Lissa Beth?" Norian looked at me in concern.
"Norian, do you hear that?" I hissed. He didn't, but a werewolf ASD agent did.
"Someone's laughing," the agent came up beside Norian.
"Now why would someone be laughing?" Norian's forehead creased in a frown.
"Because they think we're dead," I whispered. "Norian, they're here. They wanted a front-row seat when they took us down. I know you're not ready to go back to mist," I turned and announced quietly to Norian's agents, "but this will be a shorter trip, I promise."
"Shall we take our old building back, my friend, or keep this one instead?" Prylvis turned toward Viregruz.
"I think we should leave Mazareal."
"But we haven't found anything suitable," Prylvis pointed out.
"Zellar thinks this is important," Viregruz countered. "I'm inclined to listen to my wizard."
"Our people are coming to join us, Lord." Prylvis was correct—Zellar had sent everyone in the building upstairs to, in his words, view the victory.
"I did not give permission," Viregruz snapped. One of his Blood Captains stepped forward, ready to take any order from Viregruz. He would send the rabble downstairs quickly if that were Viregruz's wish. Viregruz was prepared to issue the command when pandemonium erupted.
"Stupid, spelled locks," Zellar hadn't placed the spell on this lock; one of the others had and it could take ticks to sort it out and get it opened. Eight of Viregruz's lion snake shapeshifters were inside the spelled cage. These weren't Viregruz's assassin snakes—those were upstairs now, most likely getting shouted at by Viregruz's Blood Captains. Zellar only needed a little more time. The lock fell to the floor with a thunk, bringing a surprised gasp of pleasure to Zellar.
"Farzi!" Zellar commanded, "Bring your people out. I have something for you to do."
A shapeshifter stood in the dim light. Farzi and his brothers had been caged in the warehouse basement and only allowed out if something needed to be cleaned or repaired. They were not happy with their situation, but then they'd not been happy all their lives. They were created to serve and that's what they did.
"We will come." Farzi nodded to his brothers. All of them were standing quickly. They had no desire to bear the lash of Zellar's anger. Farzi led his brothers from the cage.
Zellar motioned for them to gather closer—he needed them to be as near to him as he could get them. Zellar cringed when the noise of weapons fire sounded from the upper floors.
If Norian wanted the enemy together in order to attack all of them at once, he was getting his wish. Norian didn't have any vampires in the ASD, except for me. If we lived over this, I might have to rectify that. The two werewolves he had were trying to do battle with older, stronger vampires. Six of them. Two wizards were hurling blasts at us. I was thankful they didn't have better aim—wherever those blasts hit, holes were knocked into thick stone walls.
The noise was debilitating, too. Shouting and cursing echoed through the building—even as I watched a vampire run past me screaming, flames consuming him as he ran. I misted toward one of the older vampires, removing his head with a sweeping slash of my claws. Norian and Lendill were killing with their ranos pistols—those things were splattering anything they hit. Some of Norian's agents had gone down—two of the vampires were killing them as quickly as they could. The floor was slippery with blood already and others were losing their footing.
