Master of Smoke

Warlock began chanting the forbidden spell, collecting Wheeler’s spilling life force, dragging it deep even as another blast of Cat’s magic blinded him.
    He wrapped both hands around Kingslayer’s blood-slick haft and focused all his will, all his strength, all the magic of his warrior’s stolen life force on a single thought, a single spell.
    “Get OUT!”

    David gathered his power for the final stroke. He could feel Warlock weakening. The werewolf’s life force guttered like a candle in a draft. One more good blast, and the bastard was done.
    And then ...
    Dark magic surged, black and thick as tar, and evil, so evil he recoiled.
    Warlock hit him.
    The blast slammed him right out of the Dire Wolf’s skull, tumbling him like a leaf in a storm, so viciously strong there was no fighting it. He opened his eyes to see a starry sky overhead.
    Dammit, no! he howled in rage. I almost had him!
    There will be other chances, boy, Smoke said in his thoughts. As it is, we all live. That is no small thing.
    Furious, frustrated, David focused his attention on Eva, who looked down at him in worry. She’d changed back to human form, and he had to smile at her delicate, dark beauty. You’d never know she’d just tried to rip Warlock’s mental guts to sushi. David himself was Sidhe again, lying on the grass with his head in Eva’s lap. The last of his lingering rage drained away. “Gods and devils, I’m tired,” he said.
    Darkness fell over him like a black velvet curtain, so heavy it smothered all thought.

    Eva jerked in alarm as brilliant blue eyes slid closed. “David!”
    Belle, kneeling next to her in the grass, reached out and laid one hand across his forehead. She blew out a breath in relief. “It’s all right. He just blacked out. A little too much magic and effort, plus the strain of having all his assorted pieces shoved back together.”
    “Good,” Tristan said. “Let’s clean up this mess and get the fuck back to the Mageverse before Warlock shows up for round two.”
    The witch looked up at him and made a face. “Slave driver.” She frowned as she looked around at the gory scene.
    Werewolves sprawled in blood-splattered grass that gleamed black as oil in the moonlight. “I’m not going to be able to take care of this mess alone. I’m drained. I’ll have to get Morgana to send a cleanup team.”
    “Great. So open up a gate and let’s go.” Tristan bent over David, picked him up as if he weighed no more than his house cat form, and draped him over one armored shoulder.
    Eva rose anxiously to her feet. “What about me?”
    “You’re coming with us.” Tristan grimaced and repositioned David’s weight on his shoulder with a little bounce. “Unless you want to hang around here and wait for Warlock to turn you into a werewolf-skin rug.”
    Belle rolled her eyes. “You are such a charmer.” She gestured, and a tiny spark flashed in the air, quickly expanding into a rippling oval more than seven feet tall and five across.
    “Dimensional gate,” she explained, noticing Eva’s wary frown. “It leads to the Mageverse, the source of all magic. You and I and our armored friend here all draw our power from the Mageverse.”
    “Oh,” Eva’s eyes widened in sudden realization. “So that’s what I sense when I change.” Ever since the werewolf attack, she’d sensed a presence that was stronger at night and much weaker during the day, but which never disappeared. From the beginning, she’d instinctively reached out to it whenever she wanted to transform.
    Apparently she was about to get the answers to a great many mysteries. She really should feel better about that.
    Eva’s gaze slipped to David, lying unconscious across the vampire’s shoulder, his dark hair spilling down to brush the ground. God, I hope he’ll be okay.
    Belle stepped through the rippling dimensional gate as casually as a woman strolling through a door. Tristan followed, carrying David as easily as if he were a shawl. Eva took a deep breath, braced herself, and stepped through after them. Magic danced over her skin in a cool, tingling wave, and she shivered.
    Then she was on the other side, and her mouth fell open on a shameless gape.
    SEVENTEEN

They’d stepped into a grove of cherry trees. White blooms glowed in the moonlight like cloud banks, and Eva looked skyward, her gaze following the puffy shapes—until she saw the sky.
    For a long moment, she just stood gazing in dazzled fascination. More stars than