He didn’t have to ask twice. She froze just inside the door. “What is that?”
“That,” Zane said from where he was edging his way along the kitchen counters toward the armored creature crouched inside a sickly orange circle, “is what we call a chimera.”
The nightmare cross between a giant scorpion and a ghoulish canine matched Zane’s movements, its body shifting from noncorporal to physical as it stalked along an unearthly reddish-gold magical net Grayson had thrown between the ransacked living room and the open kitchen. The front half was a massive hellhound with red eyes and a muzzle filled with bone-colored teeth stained by things best not imagined. The broad chest and heavy body were covered in plated armor as its muscled legs ended in the kind of thick claws found on a Komodo dragon. A segmented tail curled from the back half, complete with a barbed stinger that was swaying hypnotically.
It lunged with uncanny speed, its form solidifying as its arched tail struck. Grayson yanked on the magical net at the same time, thickening it. The stinger stabbed into the amber-tinged barrier and scored along the magical binding. The impact sang through the magical lines and up Grayson’s arms, rattling his bones. He grunted, his muscles quivering as he sank deeper into the magic, reinforcing the barrier as the chimera darted back, once again going noncorporeal.
“Hurry the hell up, Zane. I won’t be able to hold this long.”
“Nag, nag, nag,” the other man muttered as virulent green ribbons erupted from around him, coiling like a group of snakes preparing to strike. “Need an opening.”
Grayson bore down, holding the shield as he adjusted his magic to allow Zane’s to pass through. “Go.”
The ribbons slid through the reddish-gold barrier like it wasn’t there, surrounding the crouching chimera before splitting into multiple razor-thin threads that struck so fast they blurred. They swarmed the snarling creature, twisting and turning, searching for purchase—not easy to do when it kept shifting between dimensions.
“Come on, asshole. Come all the way in. You know you want to,” Zane taunted.
As if it understood, the creature lunged, going solid as it closed in, barreling over the sofa, its thick claws tearing through cushions and leaving a wake of shredded stuffing. Barbs bloomed on the green threads and burrowed under the creature’s protective plating. The chimera snarled and snapped, trying to dislodge them, its body slamming into furniture, sending the heavier pieces sliding across the tile as it tried to evade them. As more and more of the filaments took anchor, it roared, the noise shaking frames from the walls. It focused on Zane and raked its claws along the shield with a frenzied madness.
Under the onslaught, Grayson’s arms began to shake, and then one particularly nasty hit sent him stumbling into the stainless-steel refrigerator. Yet somehow, he managed to keep the barrier up. Along the tail and heavy chest, faint columns of hazy gray rose where Zane’s cords found anchor. Their green glow darkened as they wound tighter and tighter, the threads pulling in opposite directions. The creature ignored the ties, including the thin filament slowly winding around its neck, and increased its efforts to get to Zane. Bone-rattling snarls filled the air as it snapped its fang-filled mouth and tore at Grayson’s barrier with its black-tipped claws.
Grayson felt his magic start to buckle. He set his feet and tightened his hold. “Zane.”
Zane’s hands swept through the air as he crafted the final part of his spell and sent it arrowing toward the hellish creation in a wash of green flame. In lethal tandem, the anchoring ties on the thrashing tail and thick neck burst into a blaze of white as they snapped tight and cut through the armor like hot wire through wax. The monster’s pained shriek was abruptly silenced in a ghostly explosion of magic.
The crushing weight against Grayson’s barrier winked out, and he fell forward, catching himself on his hands before his face met the floor. The sudden change in air pressure left his ears ringing.
“Grayson…” Zane’s growl was muffled.
Grayson looked up to see an inky slash hanging in midair, the edge trembling as if a great wind was trying to pass through. A dimensional rift. “I see it.”
He sat on his heels and patted his pockets. He needed… there. He scrambled across the floor and grabbed a piece of broken pottery. Staying on his hands and knees, he scratched out a series of sigils and began to cast.
Ab intus signati, signet ab extra, duque in sempiternum.
Power ran through the sigils, magical lines rising to where the rift still hung. He poured more power into the cast.
Ventus stricta, fortis, sigillum.
The lines began to weave faster and faster, forcing the edges of the rift together. Just before the edges touched, he caught a glimpse of an unusual signature. With a final magical shove, he forced the two edges together and welded the opening shut, his magic burning through the darker influence until only deep red remained. It burned silently in midair, slowly fading away and taking the rift with it. Grayson rolled to his back, closed his eyes, and tried to catch his breath. Something warm and soft brushed his hair off his forehead.
“Grayson, are you okay?” It was Cass, and there was a panicked edge to her voice.
“I’m good.” Well, goodish. “Just need a minute.” His head felt like it would float away, and his arms ached, but otherwise, yeah, he was fine. “Zane, you good?”
“Getting there.”
Grayson decided it was safe to open his eyes. Cass was crouched next to him, her face pale and worried, her gorgeous eyes behind the lenses a little wild. He took another deep breath and, on the exhalation, held up his hand. “Help me up?”
She took his hand, and together, they got him to where he could rest his back against one of the kitchen cabinets. Zane was on his ass, arms braced on bent knees, head hanging as his shoulders heaved near what was left of the dining room table.
Well, that was fun.
Cass left Grayson and went back to the front door. She stuck her head out and then pulled it back in before closing the door. She stood with her back to it. “I think they undercharge for their soundproofing.”
He choked out a laugh.
She picked her way through the kitchen and took a seat next to him, and they took in the scene. Not difficult with the open-concept floorplan. The kitchen spilled into the merged dining and living room, ending in a door that led to the outdoor balcony. Most of the chimera’s damage was limited to the living room—the floor gouged, furniture smashed, cracks snaking through drywall. But the dining room told the real tale. A pub-sized table was shoved into a far wall, with a deep gash in the drywall where a corner had hit. On the floor was a scattered collection of mail, keys, change, charging cords, and broken pottery—most likely a wide bowl that had once resided on the table. Two of the four barstools were on their sides, and one would never be the same, its leg split. An oversized picture on the wall hung at a crooked angle, and a plant had spilled its soil over the floor.
