He turned to Ward. “Slide down, feet first, and keep your center of mass low.”
Ward gave him a look like he wanted to argue. “What if it’s?—”
“We’re gonna be dead if you don’t go now. Pick one.”
Ward went. It was clumsy and loud, but he didn’t break anything, so Viper counted it as a win. He followed next, then Trace and Juice. Reaper and Zero followed up on their six. The moment they hit the lower chamber, the temperature shifted again, cooler, and thankfully with less ash. The space opened up into a cathedral-like cavern, maybe twenty meters wide, fifteen tall at the center, and made entirely of volcanic basalt, smooth as glass in some places, jagged in others. His men fanned out automatically, weapons up.
The place was wrong. The air was dry, hot, oppressive, but there wasn’t a single sign of active lava in sight. No vents. No open flows. Just pressure. Endless pressure like the mountain was breathing down their necks, pissed and holding its breath. Viper wiped the sweat from his brow and moved to cover. “Volcano, check in.”
Oh, the fucking irony of having a team called Volcano, and we are all going to die because of a fucking volcanic blast.
“Clear,” Juice immediately responded.
“Clear.” Reaper’s voice followed.
“Five is vertical.”
“Three good.”
Trace didn’t answer.
Viper spun. “Six?”
“Grá Croí?” Juice said at the same time.
Viper followed Trace’s gaze over their heads. His eyes widened at the sight of the pyroclastic flow rolling above the slope that had led them into this tavern. It rolled and pushed like an angry beast against an invisible barrier. “What the hell?”
It’s like a damn oven in here and getting hotter by the second.
Sweat dripped down his face. “How is it staying up there?”
“Magic,” Trace growled. “Witch magic.” He spun around and glared at the archaeologist. “You…”
Viper jumped in front of Trace as he took a step toward Ward. “What the hell, man?”
“He did this.”
Viper could hear the growl of the wolf in Trace’s words. He flicked his gaze toward his second in command, and thankfully, Juice understood what he wanted. He wrapped his arms around Trace from behind and hauled him against his chest. Viperdidn’t miss the blackness of his eyes or the blood dripping from Trace’s hands.
“I didn’t…”
“Don’t,” Trace snapped, pointing at Ward, who froze in the face of his fury. While Trace looked like a man, it was clear Ward’s instincts told him he faced an apex predator.
“Shh.” Juice tried to soothe and calm the shifter. “I don’t understand what’s going on. Explain it to me, mate.”
Viper’s body tensed when he recognized how Trace stilled as the wolf inside him locked onto his prey. He angled himself between Ward and Trace. “Sutherland,” he said, keeping his tone even. “Stay very still. If you scream, run, or pull any stupid-ass moves, I will duct tape you to a wall. Understood?”
“Yeah.” Then he muttered, “I don’t understand what’s going on. You are all either insane or I am. There is no way to escape a pyroclastic flow.”
Reaper’s laugh was a short bark. “Yet we are under one, and other than it being as hot as fuck and we are being cooked like a damn Sunday roast, it’s staying up there.” He pointed up with the muzzle of his weapon.
“Anyone want to take a shot at explaining what the hell that’s happening?” Viper was all out of ideas. “Or even how the fuck it’s happening?”
Juice cleared his throat. “Bran says it’s old binding magic, the likes that hasn’t been seen in many millennia.”
“Fuck. Does that sound as bad to everyone else as it does to me?” Kaze muttered.
Yes. Yes, it does.
