Xander held his hand out toward Shadow. Without hesitation, Shadow took it. The two of them grew quiet as a breeze began to blow around their small group.
Urian moved to cover Xyn and Brogan, along with Blaise and Davyn. His arm began to glow even though he couldn’t sense whatever they were picking up on.
“I’m still getting nothing.”
Shadow looked at that wall. “I think it’s coming from inthere.”
“Could a god have gotten in?”
Xyn had a bad feeling when Brogan asked her question. “Or was she or he already inside when they were put there?”
And made stronger.
That was a terrifying thought.
“Anyone else getting an ulcer?” Blaise gulped audibly.
“Mine just had twins,” Shadow said with a sigh. “Mazel tov!”
“Let’s back away from the barrier.” Xyn grabbed Urian and pulled him toward the city where the Daimons lived.
“You think Phoebe might have taken refuge there?”
Urian really didn’t like Xander’s question. “It’s possible. But—” He broke off as he felt the strangest sensation.
Like something slithering up his legs. His head began to spin.
“Urian?”
He heard Xyn, but he couldn’t respond. Or move. His breathing turned thick and ragged. Everything spun.
One moment he was reaching for Xyn and the next …
He was in a vortex. Only he hadn’t summoned a portal. Rushing winds filled his ears as he tried to get his bearings to figure out where he was going and how he’d stumbled into one when he hadn’t been moving.
When he hit the ground, it was so hard it broke the band holding his hair, causing it to spill out over his shoulders. Worse, he smacked his head against the concrete hard enough to momentarily rattle his senses.
He hadn’t been hit that hard since Archie had sucker-punched him. Damn, he’d forgotten how bad it hurt to be hit unexpectedly. Pushing himself up, he blinked and scanned the huge, cold room to find himself inside an ancient temple similar to Apollymi’s.
Only this one was made of deep, glittering obsidian. Large jade pots were set apart every few feet so that they could burn with an unholy green fire that cast eerie shadows on the walls.
“I would apologize for the rough landing, but I only wish it’d been harder for you.”
Urian froze at the sound of Phoebe’s bitter voice. Shocked, he turned around to find her sitting on a throne almost identical to Stryker’s. That was stunning enough.
But it wasn’t the most jaw-dropping element.
Oh no … not by a long shot. Gone was his timid, sweet little wife. The woman on that throne had her golden hair teased up and braided in an elaborate, ancient Atlantean style. Dressed in a sheer, shimmering gown, she was a thing of exquisite beauty who had more in common with Apollymi than his shy bride.
“Charonte got your tongue?”
She wasn’t trelos … or was she?
This Phoebe reminded him of that first trelos he’d killed as a boy. The one who’d been so freakishly lucid and in command of himself.
“You’ve changed.”
“Really? That’s all you have to say to me?”
