Pressed as close as they were, he could feel the aggressive tension shimmering under her skin. If he did as she asked, he’d get a fist in his face, guaranteed. “You going to step back and let me go first?”
It wasn’t really a question. He heard her teeth grind as she gave him an abrupt nod. Knowing that was the best he’d get, he kept his hold on the door but angled himself so she could slide away. She didn’t look at him as she jerked away. Instead, she stood to his side, her hands fisted at her sides. He was fairly certain no one lay in wait, mainly because their arrival would be hard to miss especially since the front door was tinted glass. Still, it was better to be cautious than dead.
He held out the gun. “Do you know how to use this?”
She gave him a look hot enough to burn, snatched the gun from him, and repositioned her grip with an easy familiarity. Then she took up a position on the other side of the door. With his hands now free, he called to his magic and held it at the ready. A Key’s offensive magic might be limited, but it could deflect a variety of magical attacks, which would give Cass the opening she’d need to level the field.
He gripped the handle, turned his body to present less of a target, looked at Cass, and mouthed, “Ready?”
She gave a short nod, her face grim, her hold on the gun steady.
He turned the knob, felt the latch slide clear, and shoved it gently open. Cool air was the only thing that rushed out. After a few breathless seconds, Grayson moved inside, Cass on his heels.
“Dad!” Cass shoved past him and rushed to the man sprawled face down on the floor just in front of the hall that led back to the bedroom and office.
Grayson didn’t bother calling her back. Instead he reached out and found the protection spell he’d set around Sofia. A quick scan told him someone had tried to breach it but had been unsuccessful. Hoping that meant Sofia was safe for the time being, he scanned the open-floor-plan kitchen and living room for any lingering threats. There weren’t any, but there were signs that Elias had been taken by surprise. Shards of glass, mixed with amber liquid, spilled across the tile by the stone coffee table. One of the couches had been shoved out of place, its cream-colored surface marred by smears of dirt and, more disturbing, blood. Based on the broken stoneware and crushed greenery, someone had either thrown a potted plant or tried to use it as a weapon. In front of the low shelves on the back wall was a mess of crushed art pieces that had once sat on display. Even though the heavy silence told him that whoever had been here was gone, he couldn’t risk not checking the rest of the house. He crouched next to Cass, who had her fingers pressed to Elias’s neck.
“He’s alive.” Her voice shook. “Help me turn him over?” Together, they got Elias onto his back, and Cass whispered, “Oh, Dad.”
Elias had definitely been in a fight, and it hadn’t gone his way. Bruised and battered, his right eye was swollen shut, his lips were cut and bleeding, and it looked as if his nose had been broken. More worrisome was the slow seep of blood low on his left side. A broken shard of bloodstained glass lay in the spreading pool of crimson.
Grayson ran to the kitchen, grabbed the hand towels hanging on the stove and dishwasher, and brought them back to Cass. He pressed them to Elias’s side. “Call 911.”
“Sofia and Mom,” Cass said as she fumbled for her phone.
“Can you hold this and make the call?”
“Yeah, go.” She took over for him as she tried to dial one-handed.
He grabbed the gun Cass had set aside and headed upstairs first, his magic sweeping before him. He was fairly certain they were alone, but if something had been left behind, he wanted to know. Cass’s voice drifted up as she gave the address and told the operator to hurry the hell up. Then nothing.
It took him maybe two minutes to clear the top level. Whatever happened had been confined to downstairs. He came back down as Cass watched him, hands holding the towels in place. Seeing the question on her face, he shook his head.
“Is 911 coming?” he asked.
Worry darkened her face. “They’re about ten minutes out.”
He continued down the hall, feeling Cass watch him. The guest room door was closed, and the glass French doors to the office were open. He took a quick look inside the office. Files and papers were scattered across the floor, and one of the barrel chairs was overturned.
Same fight or different fight? Either way, there was no sign of Rhea.
His magic hit a snag just beyond the desk, and he made a mental note to come back for a closer look. Grayson started back down the hall, heading for the guest room. “Don’t go in the office.”
Cass’s face grayed. “Why? Mom?”
Realizing where her mind had gone, he reassured her. “No sign of Rhea, but there’s residual magic in there.”
He moved to the closed door of the guest room, and with his hand hovering over the knob, checked for any lingering surprises. When he didn’t find anything, he opened the door. Sofia lay on the bed, eyes closed, like a modern-day sleeping beauty. The protection spell had taken on an orange glow instead of the soft copper it should have had. A hint of unease ran through him.
“Grayson?” Cass called.
“Sofia’s here.” He tucked his gun into the waistband at the small of his back. Not the wisest place, but he wanted it close. He studied his spell, noting that someone had tried to recast the anchor runes. “Someone tried to get to her.”
“Is she okay?”
He wanted to tell her yes, but he couldn’t shake his growing unease. “I don’t know.”
Grayson didn’t wait for her response but got to work. He focused on the damaged anchor runes. The magical weave had been warped, indicating a mage had tried to reshape the runes’ intent, basically attempting to turn the spell from protective to harmful. Despite the battering it had taken, the spell appeared to have held, but the longer he studied it, the more certain he felt that something was wrong.
