Fallon grabbed Laire’s hand. “Stop the crazy. How could you have known?”
“She was born at the Great Collision. I concentrated on the fact that magical powers never materialized, but the ability to not be affected by magic is also a power. It’s just so much rarer I overlooked it.”
“But you put a shield on her and that worked,” said Aislynn.
“No, I didn’t. I put a shield around her. She only affects magic she comes into contact with. If I bothered to look into it, I would have found dozens of examples of how magic items broke around her.”
“And she didn’t know this about herself?” Aislynn asked.
“She lives in the most perfect place to not know it. Think about it. The least amount of magic they can get by with, no interest in pursuing magic, and while powers materializing would have made an impression, how do you figure out you cause the absence of something?”
“Yet somehow the vampires knew about her when we didn’t.” Anyone who knew Wulver knew that tone of voice did not bode well for anyone in his path.
Before any response could be made the elevator opened and Tec walked out, his gingery curls sticking up at all angles, testifying to hands being run through them dozens of times. “Three-hundred and forty-seven items,” he said without preamble, a list in his hands which was grabbed by Laire before he came to a standstill.
“Almost half gone,” Wulver said, voice low. He scratched his cheek, fingers curled against the angry-red scar. The fingers stopped and he looked up, his eyes tight on Laire. “They didn’t spend all that effort to get her solely to break into the vault. They need her for something very special. Search the list – what is big enough to start the rip, and it specifically needs a null?”
Laire was the embodiment of concentration, her eyes flying over the list. Her eyes stopped their movements and she jerked back, her mouth forming a soft o. “What day is today?”
“Tues-” began Ais, but Laire pulled out her phone and scrolled through the calendar. Her teeth ground together, a sound of pain escaping when she found what she had been searching for.
“Well?” demanded Wulver.
Laire’s eyes were wide, horrified. “They have the Stone of the Four Souls and the Dagger of Kerith Tay. They’re going to use her to release the Four Demons.”
“The demons the gods themselves had to band together to trap?” Aislynn’s voice shook. “There is no way a necromancer could control them. Not even to rip the realms asunder would they chance bringing them into this world.”
“I might not have any love for fangboy,” Laire said, her lips giving a little twist. “But I can admit how powerful he is. If any necromancer ever had the ability to control them, it would be Reign.”
“And he’s arrogant enough to be willing to try,” Fallon finished. “When?”
“Tonight,” responded Laire. “Tonight is a blue moon. It has to be tonight, when the moon is at its zenith. It’s the only time.”
Aislynn spoke. “It’s impossible to go against them tonight. Even if we knew where they are. Our forces are decimated. The mages used most of their spells to fight the invasion, the healers are overwhelmed, and our warrior strength is cut in half.”
“We can discover where the ceremony will be held.” Shadow stepped through the wall and pulled someone behind him. It was the acolyte from earlier, the one who walked with Larissa and the vampire, his hands bound behind him. “I caught him on the way out. I’ve already blocked his link with his master.”
“I do love that freaky shadow magic stuff you do,” Laire said, normal smart-assy coming back into her voice. Shadow tilted his head toward her, the only concession he heard the praise.
Wulver’s lips turned up. He turned to Fallon and arched his eyebrow. “That only leaves making some new friends to help us out tonight. Can you handle it?”
It was in the form of a question, but there was an undeniable order underneath that. Fallon nodded. “Of course, boss. I’m always up for making new friends.”
The acolyte watched them, a fervent gleam in his eye. “What makes you think I’ll talk to you and abandon my master?”
“Trust me when I say you don’t have a choice,” said Wulver.
“But I think I do.” And the Acolyte stuck out his tongue and bit through it. The pink fleshy nub fell to the ground and spurts of blood squirted from his mouth.
Before the tongue hit the ground Fallon pulled a knife from a sheath on the outside of her thigh. “Laire, fire.”
Laire complied, and Fallon’s knife went red-hot. Fallon grabbed the acolyte’s head with her empty hand and forced his mouth open, bringing the knife against his gushing tongue, burning lips and cheeks and any other skin that lay in the way and sent the smell of burning flesh spiraling through the air.