It wasn’t until he went to restructure the second anchor that he triggered a subversion spell. Ugly, twisted ribbons of corrupted magic erupted around Sofia, searching for a way in. A thin tendril found a crack and went to work.
“Son of a bitch.”
Frantic, he split his attention, bolstering the protective weave even as he swept the guest room with a magical scan. Somewhere had to be a focus—an inanimate object fueling the subversion spell. Something easily overlooked. His magic came up empty.
On the bed under the undulating magic, Sofia’s body began to jerk. He caught another tendril making contact. Knowing he was running out of time, he tried again. Nothing pinged. Panic ran nasty claws over his spine as the subversion spell battered at the protective shield and bore down, searching for more cracks.
“Where are you, you little bastard?”
He switched gears, narrowing his search for any trace of Incarnate magic because this had to be connected to the initial cast. He scanned the space again, and this time, something scraped back. There, between the bed and the wall on the floor.
Grayson bent down and found a small, dull stone. Got you, asshole.
His magic slid over his hand in a protective glove as he picked up the innocuous-seeming object. It looked like a piece of gravel, easily dismissed if you couldn’t feel the pulse of animosity at its heart. In his mind’s eye, what sat in his hand wasn’t rock but rather a nasty, tangled knot of magic with twisted tendrils that were currently boring their way through the protective spell. It was only a matter of time before those tendrils connected with the original spell. Once that happened, he’d lose Sofia. He blew out a breath, his pulse leveling into a steady beat that dropped him into that eerily calm headspace needed to ignore the silent ticking clock. Then he got to work.
Chapter 21
Cass
Cass pressed the blood-soaked towels against her father’s wound, her panic and fear held in check by a thin layer of glass. She could see it, knew it was there waiting to swallow her whole, but couldn’t feel it—she couldn’t feel anything. Instead, her mind was strangely clear as she stared into her father’s battered face.
“What happened? Where’s Mom?”
He didn’t answer.
She listened for Grayson, who had disappeared into Sofia’s room. It remained disturbingly quiet. Under her hands, her father’s body gave a soft jerk followed by a faint groan.
A crack snaked through her protective emotional glass, leaking panic. “Dad? Can you hear me?”
His split lips moved, but no sound emerged. His hand rose and then slid off her arm.
She dared to lift one hand from the towels to catch it before it hit the floor. “Hold still. Help is on the way.”
Elias tugged against her grasp and turned his head.
Worried that her grip was hurting him, she set his hand down. “Stay still, Dad.”
“Cassandra?” he asked weakly, his body twitching.
“Yeah, Dad, I’m here.” The stain on the towels under her hands grew. Heart pounding, she pressed down hard. “I need you to hold still for me, okay?” His fitful movements continued. “Stay still.”
His one good eye fluttered then opened. It was bloodshot, but even more worrisome was how unfocused it appeared, as if he wasn’t aware of what was happening around him. His blurry gaze swept over her. “What’s going on?”
“You’ve been attacked.”
“Attacked?” Some of the haziness cleared from his face, and this time, when he went to grab her arm, he made contact, his fingers digging into her wrists. “Rhea? Sofia?”
“Sofie’s okay.” She prayed she wasn’t lying. “Mom’s not here.” Saying it out loud fractured the protective numbness, and her voice shook. “Can you tell me what happened?”
His eye fluttered closed, and she wondered if he’d lost consciousness, but then he started to speak. “I was with Sofia. Needed another drink. Went to the kitchen. Got to the living room.” He grimaced and sucked in a breath as his fingers tightened, his eye opening again. “This man popped in out of nowhere. Right in front of me. Hit me. I went down.” He let her go, and his hand drifted toward his head, where a raised knot was forming. “We fought. Then”—his hand drifted to where she was holding the towels—“he stabbed me with something sharp.”
Reading his rising agitation, she pressed a little harder. “Don’t move, okay?” When he resettled, she asked, “Did you recognize him—the guy who attacked you?”
Elias closed his eye, his face haggard and shiny with sweat. “No.” His hand slid away from her arm and dropped to the floor.
Wanting to keep him conscious, Cass kept pushing. “And Mom? Where was she?”
“Office,” he murmured. “Call came in from Cole. Had to take it. Urgent.”
