Demon Moon

declaration. The dark mountain to Colin’s left quaked—she’d hit the mirror. “The wyrmwolf was a fluke.”
    “He’s back.” Castleford’s tone included a warning. To whom?
    Colin shook his head, tried to clear it. Impossible. Not with the screams ringing in his ears. “Enough. Open the fucking door.” He had to force the words out through clenched teeth. He closed his eyes, shut out the rot. Stopped breathing, to block out the odor.
    But they still filled him.

    The décor in the observation area offended Colin’s senses almost as badly as the Room did. Bland beige carpet, walls washed in a weak blue. Colors likely chosen to calm and soothe, but they only managed to declare the designer a tasteless idiot.
    “Is the protection spell still active in this room?” Lilith looked to Michael for confirmation.
    “Yes.” The Doyen stood with his arms crossed over his massive chest, a tall, bronzed warrior with brutally short hair and an expression that could have been sculpted beneath Rodin’s skilled hands. “We will not be overheard; you may speak freely.”
    Colin leaned back against the observation window; behind him, the Room was dark. “I’ve no intention of ever returning,” he said. “And certainly not to see a horde of scribbling nosferatu.”
    “You may not have a choice,” Michael said. “The danger is twofold: If they open a portal to Earth and return the stronger, the death toll will be catastrophic. The vampires we are training cannot defeat nosferatu alone, and we have not enough Guardians. More than wyrmwolves may slip through in their wake; if they release a dragon—”
    “Perhaps you can make yourself a new sword.” Colin’s fists tightened in his pockets. “I’ll not go back. If you simply intend to look at the symbols, it only provides the nosferatu confirmation of their ingenuity—unless you intend to fight them? But if you are killed, who will teleport me out?”
    “There would be no one,” Castleford said softly. He glanced at Michael. “I agree that the threat does not equal the risk.”
    “I’m bloody thrilled that you agree with me, but it hardly matters. I’ll not return.”
    “There is the second danger,” Michael said. “It can be no mistake they make their attempt amongst the bodies above.”
    “You can’t know that it will open into Hell,” Lilith said.
    “We’ve all thought it,” Selah said, rising from the sofa. Her wings opened wide; a quick shake ran through the feathers as she smoothed them. “Those souls who have reneged on their bargains have their faces frozen in a field Below, and they scream; in Chaos, bodies hang from the ceiling, and they scream. And scream.” Her blue eyes filled. “I don’t know that I wouldn’t Fall rather than return, either.”
    “You wouldn’t,” Castleford said.
    “I’d consider it. I only wouldn’t because I have an easy escape.” Selah shook her head, and turned to face Michael. “I can’t teleport him out if you are defeated. If they break through the ceiling into Hell, what is the danger? The Gates are closed. If the nosferatu traveled through to Hell, they couldn’t escape—most likely, they’d be killed by the demons there.”
    “Lucifer and Belial may even stop in their battles against one another long enough to chase down the bloodsuckers.”
    “Yes,” Michael said. “And the Morningstar would have access, once again, to Chaos. Nothing in the wager he lost prevents him from working to create a Gate from Chaos to Earth before his five hundred years have passed. He has the knowledge, and he would bring the dragons with him.”
    “Let them come,” Colin said tightly. “I’ll not return.”
    Michael’s eyes transformed; when he looked at Colin, it was with a blank, obsidian gaze. “You may not have a choice.”



CHAPTER 7

    In the most absurd of circumstances, I find myself struck by a curse. I pray that your next letter includes intelligence from those blasted boring Scrolls of a way to break it. I hang on by cravat and waistcoat; if not for Winters, I’d be a terrible mess. I find it most distressing to look into a mirror and see…I’ve no idea what I see. Only that it cannot be me .
    —Colin to Ramsdell, 1816

    Savi wasn’t surprised to find Hugh in his home office—nor when she found him bench-pressing an enormous set of weights instead of sitting at the desk.
    “Can we talk?”
    Hugh paused in the middle of a lift, looking down the length of his body at her.