Sebastian

Chapter Sixteen

Lynnea glanced at the closed bathroom door as she laced up her shoes. Sebastian had been amused by her reluctance to get dressed in front of him. After all, he’d pointed out, he’d seen her naked—and she’d seen him. But that was a different kind of naked, and getting into her underwear while he lay back in the rumpled bed with the covers barely covering his interesting bits was more than the newfound tigress inside her could handle. So she’d grabbed her clothes and scampered into the bathroom to dress in private.

Since she’d expected to find him dressed when she came out of the bathroom, which was how things had worked since they’d started sharing this room in the bordello, she’d been surprised to find him lounging in bed, still rumpled and naked. And looking so delicious she wanted to lick his skin just to have another taste of him.

Whatever he’d seen on her face had made him smile, push back the covers, gather up his clothes…and stroll into the bathroom. The look he gave her before he closed the door made her want to hit him—or drag him back into bed.

“Idle hands give the mind time for mischief,” she muttered as she looked around the room for something to do. She looked at the bed, hesitated, then squared her shoulders. It was just a bed. It wasn’t any different now than it had been when they’d just slept together.

Except it was. As she smoothed out the sheets, she remembered the feel of his hands on her skin, and the way his skin had warmed as she touched him. The delicious tugs in the belly when he suckled her breast. The way he’d caressed her with his fingers until she was drowning in sensation and didn’t care if she ever surfaced.

The joining had hurt, and that had dimmed the pleasure—until she’d fallen asleep and slid into the dreams.

The bordello, the room, the bed—and Sebastian. This time the dreams didn’t stop with hugs and long kisses. This time the dreams seemed more intense, more…real. He seemed more real than he’d been in the other dreams. He’d done all the things he’d done to her earlier, but now she knew what a man felt like when he was hard and hungry. And instead of pain when his body slid into hers, there was pleasure—waves and waves of it, cresting and receding as one dream faded, rising again as the next dream filled her, and she and Sebastian did things she couldn’t even think about now without blushing.

But her body responded to those memories, producing a fluttery feeling in her belly and a wet heat between her legs.

“What are you thinking about?”

Jolted by the sound of his voice, Lynnea turned. Sebastian stood close to her. He was dressed, but he hadn’t bothered to button his shirt, and she found that glimpse of bare skin more disturbingly sensual than if he hadn’t put on a shirt at all. “What?”

“You’re hugging a pillow.”

“What?” When he just smiled at her, she felt her face heat. “I was just thinking about…about…”

“Pleasant dreams?”

“No, I—” She stared at him. Remembered the bits and pieces she’d heard about incubi and how they usually linked with their prey. “You…You can see my dreams?”

He took a step closer. “Only when you invite me in. And you did invite me in, sweet Lynnea.” Something hot and hungry flashed in his eyes.

Oh, gracious. She was going to have to think about this.

Turning away from him, she set the pillow in its place and began straightening the covers. “I should be at Philo’s soon. I don’t want to be late for my first day of work.”

“And I need to make a circuit around the Den to check the bridges.” Silence. Then, “Miss me a little, all right?”

Wondering what kind of teasing reply women were expected to make in response to that kind of request, she gave the covers on that side of the bed one more smoothing brush of her hand before she looked at Sebastian—and felt the ground shift under her feet.

Nothing hot and hungry in those green eyes now. Just vulnerability…and yearning.

Had anyone ever missed him? Not the incubus and the sex he provided, but Sebastian the man? Had any woman ever welcomed him simply because she was glad to see him?

He needs me. Her heart filled with the wonder of that discovery.

Closing the distance between them, she said, “I’ll miss you more than a little.” Then she slipped her hands under his shirt, wrapped her arms around him, and rested her head on his shoulder.

A moment of stiff hesitation as his mind and body translated the feel of her against him as affection and not prelude. His arms came around her, pulling her closer. He rubbed his cheek against her hair. His body relaxed, and his sigh of contentment was the finest sound she’d ever heard.

“You have to go,” he said. “Philo will be waiting.”

“Yes.” But she didn’t make any move to let go of him.

He was the one who finally eased back. “Lynnea?”

“Yes?”

He brushed his lips over hers. “I’ll miss you, too.”

Koltak and Captain Dalton studied the two planks of wood across the narrow creek.

Dalton swore. “A bridge this close to the city, and no kind of marker to indicate where it leads.”

“That is not the nature of resonating bridges,” Koltak replied, but so softly it was more a thought voiced for himself. Oh, plenty of times, if you kept your mind focused, you could cross over a resonating bridge and reach a particular destination. But there were other times when the bridge ignored the will’s intent and resonated only with the heart. When that happened, a person could end up anywhere.

“I know that,” Dalton said. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He paused. “Well, it’s your decision, Wizard Koltak. Our orders are to wait for you on this side of the bridge and give you escort back to the city.” He looked over his shoulder at the city still visible in the distance.

Koltak shivered. It was a sensible plan. After all, he couldn’t go into the Den with armed guards. But he didn’t want to cross that bridge alone, not knowing what was on the other side.

Maybe Dalton sensed his hesitation, or maybe it was a standard move whenever a bridge had to be crossed.

“Faran,” Dalton said, “cross over the bridge with Wizard Koltak.” He looked at Koltak. “If the bridge crosses over to a daylight landscape, Faran will report back and the rest of us will cross over to continue providing escort. If it’s a dark landscape, he’ll simply come back to this side and wait with the rest of us.”

And I’ll go on alone, in unfamiliar land, to find a man I’d rather not set eyes on. But if this works, it will be the last time I have to see him—and my place in the council will be assured.

“Faran will lead your horse over those planks,” Dalton said.

Koltak watched the guard dismount, hand his reins to a fellow guard, and rummage in his saddlebags before approaching Koltak with a small lantern in one hand. “What about his own horse?”

“He won’t need it,” Dalton said. “He’s just crossing over with you and reporting back.”

Faran stood at the horse’s head and looked up at him, waiting.

Koltak closed his eyes and focused his will. I need to reach Sebastian. I need to reach the Den. Keeping his eyes closed, he nodded to indicate he was ready.

He felt the horse resist going over the planks, heard Faran’s murmurs of encouragement and command. Feet and hooves on wood. Barely enough length for man and horse to stand on the planks at the same time. But he couldn’t think about that, couldn’t think about anything but what he needed to achieve. I need to reach Sebastian. I need to reach the Den.

The horse shied. Koltak opened his eyes and grabbed the saddle to keep from being thrown. Faran ran with the horse for a few steps before bringing the animal under control.

“Easy, boy,” Faran said. “Easy.”

“What happened?” Koltak demanded.

“Something spooked him just as we crossed to this side of the bridge, but I didn’t see anything.” Faran looked around. “Land looks a bit different here. I’m thinking we’re not close to Wizard City anymore.”

“No, I don’t think we are,” Koltak replied.

“So we missed the mark?”

He shook his head. “Despite the daylight, this is a dark landscape. They feel different.” He just wished he knew where he was. But somewhere in this land, there had to be a bridge that would lead him to the Den. There had to be.

“No roads here,” Faran said. “How will you know which way to go?”

Sebastian. Sebastian. Sebastian.

He gathered the reins and turned the horse’s head without conscious thought. “I’ll have to follow my heart.”

“All right, then.” Faran stepped away from the horse. “I’ll tell Captain Dalton you’re on your way. We’ll be waiting for you on the other side of the bridge.”

Koltak nodded, banged his heels against the horse’s sides, and set off at a rough trot that promised to bruise more than his pride.

It would be over soon. He wouldn’t fail the council. All he had to do was keep his will focused on finding what he didn’t want to find.

Sebastian. Sebastian. Sebastian.

Faran shook his head as he watched the wizard ride off. Not a horseman, that was for sure. He just hoped the man was fit enough at the end of the journey to do what needed to be done.

No point lingering here. And truth to tell, something about the place made him uneasy, even though there wasn’t anything around him that looked dangerous.

His steps slowed as he neared the bridge.

But something had spooked the horse.

He started to draw his short sword, then hesitated and pulled out the long knife tucked in his boot. As he straightened up, his eyes caught a movement barely a stride away from the planks and off to the side. Had the ground shifted a little, or was it just the air stirring the grass?

He moved toward the bridge, setting each foot with care, unable to shake the feeling that something was waiting.

Nothing stirred. Nothing moved.

Clear your mind, he thought. Get back to Captain Dalton and the fellows. Cross over the bridge. Wizard City, Wizard City, Wizard City.

He turned to face the bridge straight on. Lifted a foot to set it on the planks of wood. A few moments more and he’d be safe.

It burst out of the ground, all legs and jaws. A familiar shape, if it had been the size of his thumbnail, now grown into a nightmare.

He screamed as it grabbed him and bit into his leg. He went down hard, his legs already numb from the venom, but he held on to the knife. Before the nightmare could pull him into the tunnel beneath the trapdoor, he reared up and, using both hands and what strength was left in his arms, drove the knife into the spider’s head.

Its legs flailed and its jaws bit deeper as the creature died. Then it lay still.

Panting, sweating, Faran turned his body as best he could. If he could stretch out his arm, he could reach the bridge. Had to reach the bridge. Had to get to the other side. Help was across…the…

Lynnea hummed a little tune while she cleaned off a table. She’d done pretty well for her first day of work. True, she’d forgotten part of one order, but she’d made up for it by calming down a bull demon bellowing for food.

Grinning, she wondered if she’d get to be the first to tell Sebastian about the new addition to Philo’s menu: the Sebastian Special. Who would have guessed a vegetable omelet could impress a demon?

She took her tray of dirty dishes back to the kitchen, gave Brandon a cheerful smile, since he was the one stuck with the washing up, grabbed another tray, and headed back out to the courtyard to clear off another table.

Despite the Eater of the World being loose in the landscapes and the very real possibility that terrible things could happen in the Den, she had never been happier. She had work she found interesting, she was with a good man who was also an incredible lover, and—noticing the blond man across the street, she smiled—she was making friends.

The Den wasn’t the place she would have picked if she could have chosen a landscape, but here she’d found all the things she’d yearned for, so it had turned out to be the right place for her after all.

She picked up the full tray, then waited for Teaser to cross the street so she could tell him she needed a few more minutes to finish up before she could go back to the bordello. She’d promised Sebastian that she’d stay at Philo’s until he or Teaser escorted her back to the room.

Problem was, there wasn’t anything to do when she got there. She wasn’t used to having idle time, and it seemed wasteful to sit and do nothing. Well, she’d just have to think about what skills she had and how she could make use of them. If she could find the supplies she needed, she could knit some scarves. The Den’s visitors would have no use for such simple things, but the residents might appreciate them when the weather turned cold. If it did turn cold. She’d ask Teaser as soon as he…

She watched a woman walk up to Teaser, watched the body language that plainly indicated a flirtation—or something more—was going on between them.

Watched him walk away with the woman without so much as a glance in her direction.

So that was how well promises were kept in the Den.

He’s an incubus. This is what he does. I suppose it’s silly to feel hurt that he chose to go off with a bed partner instead of keeping a promise to me…or Sebastian.

“Isn’t it time for you to be going?” Philo asked, glancing in her direction when she brought the tray into the kitchen. “I thought Teaser was coming for you.”

“Apparently not,” she replied, just sharply enough to have him turn away from his pots and pans to look at her.

She shrugged to indicate it was nothing. “Got more customers. I’ll take the order.” She was out of the kitchen before Philo could ask any questions.

She’d just taken the order and was heading back to give it to Philo when Teaser walked into the courtyard, rubbing his hands and looking gleeful.

“You ready to go?” he asked. “Or do I have time for a bowl of whatever Philo’s serving?”

“Finish your business so soon?” she replied tartly.

“Just in time, I’d say. Was down at Hastings playing a few hands of cards while I waited for you. Won the last hand, scooped up my winnings, and said I had to be off to give Sebastian’s lady an escort. Bull demon at the table didn’t even bellow about me leaving before he had a chance to win a few coins back. He just rumbled, ‘om…e…let good’—whatever that means.”

Lynnea stared at him. “Teaser, I saw you just now. You went off to the bordello with a woman.”

“Didn’t.” He looked baffled and a little hurt. “Said I’d be here, and here I am.”

“But I saw you.”

He shook his head. “Must have been someone else.”

“There’s someone else in the Den who looks just like you?”

“Wasn’t me. Although…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Hastings said he saw me in the tavern a couple of days ago making time with the succubitch, which is a load of horse…stuff, since he knows I can’t stand her.” He turned and looked in the direction of the bordello. “But he also said no one has seen her since then.” He looked back at Lynnea. “Come on. I’ll take you to the room. Then I’m going to see what I can find out about this…twin…people have been seeing.”

“All right. Let me give Philo this order; then I can go.”

As she started to walk away, Teaser grabbed her arm. “How much did this other fellow look like me?”

She hesitated, more because he seemed upset than because she wasn’t sure of what she’d seen. “Well,” she hedged, “he was across the street, and he wasn’t directly under one of the lights, so I could have been mistak—”

“If he’d come over here, would you have gone with him?” Teaser demanded.

A chill went through her as she stared into his blue eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. “I would have gone with him, thinking he was you.” And if the man she’d seen wasn’t Teaser, what might have happened to her once she was away from Philo’s? There were plenty of dark alleys where she might have been taken and…hurt.

She knew two women had died in the Den before she’d arrived. Sebastian had told her about them. That was one of the reasons he didn’t want her walking around alone.

“I have to give this order to Philo,” she said, holding on to something simple and ordinary. As soon as Teaser released her arm, she hurried to the kitchen. She must have looked as shaky as she felt, because both Brandon and Philo stopped working to stare at her.

She ignored the stares, gave Philo the order, and told him she had to go now.

“Teaser is here?” Philo asked.

“Yes.” But was she certain the man waiting for her was Teaser? She’d met the incubus only a few days ago and didn’t know him that well.

Maybe she should tell Teaser she was going to wait for Sebastian, even if it hurt his feelings. But what if a man approached her wearing Sebastian’s face? Would she be able to tell the difference?

Yes. Definitely, yes. She knew the feel of Sebastian, would be able to pick him out in a crowd of men all wearing his face. Because none of them would be able to imitate the feel of his heart.

But there was still the question of Teaser. Go or stay? The hesitation must have shown in her face, because he cocked his head when she walked toward him.

“If I promise not to leave wet towels on the bathroom floor anymore, will you let me escort you to the bordello?”

Relief surged through her. No one but the real Teaser would think to say that to her. “I’ll hold you to that promise.” She linked her arm through his as they left Philo’s courtyard. “So how much did you win off the bull demon?”

He grinned and relaxed—and asked her about her first day working for Philo instead of answering.

Yes, that felt like the real Teaser. Smiling, she told him about the bull demon and the Sebastian Special while they walked to the bordello.

Sebastian planted his feet on either side of the demon cycle when it stopped halfway down the Den’s main street. Since it floated on air, he didn’t need to do that to keep the cycle upright. He just wanted to see if his legs still stretched to the ground.

Why had he spent the past few hours riding around, looking for signs that the Eater of the World had found a way into one of the dark landscapes that bordered the Den? Why had he studied every bridge as if he could tell what he might find if he crossed over?

Part of it was his promise to Lee to do what he could to protect the Den. The other part was that he needed something to do while Lynnea was working at Philo’s. Hovering around the courtyard would have made her nervous—and might have given too much of an impression that he was waiting for the right company to come along. And in a way that was true, since he’d be waiting for Lynnea.

He felt no desire to troll the streets for a woman. Hadn’t felt the need since he’d met his little rabbit. Just living with her fed the incubus’s hunger in ways the hottest sex with other women had never done. He craved her company, the sound of her voice, the feel of her skin beneath his hands.

Besides his own lack of interest in being some other woman’s dream lover, he didn’t think Lynnea would see his carnal attentions to another woman as anything but a betrayal—the kind of betrayal that would break a woman’s heart. So if he wasn’t going to troll the Den and provide sex as a commodity, what could he do to earn his keep?

He lifted one hand, rubbed his thumb over his fingertips. He felt the tingle of power that marked him as a wizard. Since “wizard” was a dirty word in the Den, he still hadn’t told anyone about the power that had awakened in him. But sooner or later people would find out. Sooner or later he’d have to decide what he was going to do with that power.

Which led his thoughts back to why he’d spent the past few hours roaming the boundaries of the Den.

Defender. Protector. A few weeks ago he would have laughed if anyone had used those words to describe him. Now, knowing he was the one who anchored the Den made a difference. Lynnea made a difference. This was his place. These were his people. She was his woman.

Could that really be enough for her, to be his woman? Could the Den give her enough of what she needed so that she’d be content to stay? Even if they couldn’t live in the cottage right now, he could take her to visit Aunt Nadia. She could shop in Aurora, talk to the kind of people she was used to. Spend a few hours in sunlight. Would it be enough to keep her coming back to him and the kind of loving he could offer a woman?

But in the village…How would Aunt Nadia introduce her? As a young friend visiting from another landscape? As her nephew’s companion? Oh, that would produce plenty of knife-edged smiles and whispers as soon as Lynnea turned her back. But what else could Nadia call her? His wife?

Sebastian’s heart gave a hard bump before settling back into its usual rhythm.

Wife. Friend, lover, companion.

No. Oh, no. “Wife” was a human word, not one to be bandied about in a place like the Den. Besides, “wife” went with “marriage,” and that was too…permanent. He’d known Lynnea only a few days. His craving for her could diminish, could disappear altogether. The temptation to feast on another woman’s emotions and flesh could rise up at any moment. After all, he was an incubus. Constancy wasn’t part of what he was.

Then he saw her with Teaser, heading for the bordello, and he knew his craving for her wouldn’t diminish, wouldn’t disappear. This was more than a craving. This was love. So he’d find some way of giving her what she needed so that she would be willing to stay.

“There’s Lynnea,” he said.

The demon cycle growled what might have been a happy sound and zipped forward so fast Sebastian was sure he’d scraped off half the soles of his boots before he managed to lift his feet.

“Slow down before you knock someone over,” Sebastian snapped. Not that his order made a bit of difference. The demon cycle tore around the corner and into the side street with no regard for anything that might have been in the way.

Of course, Lynnea had gone inside by the time they reached the building, which left him promising a sulky demon that he’d ask if she wanted to go for a ride later.

What was it about his little rabbit-turned-tigress that made demons act besotted?

Best not to think too hard about that, since you’re one of those demons, he chided himself as he walked into the building.

“Better keep your eyes on Teaser,” the desk clerk called as Sebastian headed for the stairs. “Your lady is the second one he’s brought here in the past hour.”

He paused. “Up to our rooms?”

The clerk shook his head and gave a room number on the second floor.

Sebastian took the steps two at a time. Daylight! What was Teaser up to? Why take Lynnea to one of the rooms that were rented for a “night” of pleasure when an incubus or succubus didn’t want to bring the prey home? He’d trusted Teaser to look after Lynnea because he and Teaser had been friends for so many years—and because he’d had the feeling that, while the other incubus was drawn to Lynnea, Teaser didn’t see her as prey.

Bounding up the last steps, he turned into the corridor just in time to see Teaser backing away from an open door.

“It’s not me,” Teaser said as he hit the wall opposite the door and slid to the floor. “It’s not me!”

Lynnea dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around Teaser, who sounded hysterical.

Sebastian didn’t know if she’d heard him or just sensed him, but she turned her head and looked at him, her eyes full of worry and relief.

He strode to the door, stepped into the room—and froze.

The woman on the bed was so ensnared in a sexual haze she wasn’t aware of anything else. Her hands were fisted in the sheets and her hips pumped with the desperation of someone whose release was being held just out of reach, but her breathing sounded painfully harsh and her eyes were chillingly blank.

The man was too busy pounding himself into her to either notice or care that he had an audience.

The woman’s breathing became more labored, but her hips kept up the desperate pumping.

Save the woman. Get that bastard off of her.

But as he took another step, the man turned his head and looked at him.

Teaser’s face. But there was a sharp cruelty in the smile and a viciousness in the eyes that he’d never seen in his friend—not even when Teaser was being cruel.

The humping continued, hard and fast, the last thrusts before release. The woman moaned, but it was impossible to tell if the sound was a response to pain or pleasure.

As Sebastian breathed in the feral, musky scent that filled the room, the power of the incubus unfurled inside him, a sharp-edged hunger honed by the other male.

Yes. Take her. She was only human, only prey. Feed desire until it became insatiable, then feast on the flood of feelings, working the body until the mind was helpless to do anything but respond and provide more meat for the feast. Feast and feast until the prey was incapable of fighting to survive.

Kill with pleasure.

One last thrust. The woman cried out—a liquid, unhealthy sound, as if something had broken inside her. The male with Teaser’s face closed his eyes and sighed with pleasure.

Sebastian’s heart pounded. He felt hot, hard—and sick with a desperate hunger he had never felt in quite that way before.

Then he heard Lynnea’s voice, just a murmur of comfort to Teaser, and he gasped for air, feeling as if he’d almost been pulled into a dark, ugly place. He had never hunted like this, had no desire to hunt like this.

But in a dark corner of his heart, he understood the power of this kind of hunt, understood the cruel pleasure. And he understood that without Nadia, Glorianna, and Lee, he might have become a hunter like the male now rolling off the bed.

The male moved to the center of the room—Teaser’s body but not his eyes. There was nothing of Teaser in those eyes.

“Diluted spawn,” the male said, sneering. “One-faced mongrel who does its tricks to win a few scraps of emotion. We starved, locked away in that landscape, while the ones we had driven out because they had become tainted by feelings survived by hiding in the human landscapes. They mated with prey and ended up producing things like you.”

“What are you?” Sebastian said, even though he already knew. In his blood, in the marrow of his bones, he knew.

The male’s body changed. The blond hair darkened. The blue eyes turned green.

Sebastian stared at his own face.

“I’m what you should have been,” the male replied. He looked over Sebastian’s shoulder. “I’m more than you’ll ever be. She won’t be able to resist me,” he added in Sebastian’s voice.

Lynnea.

The hunger of the incubus withered inside Sebastian as another power flared, fed by fear and fury.

He threw himself at the incubus, sent them crashing to the floor. It fought viciously, with animalistic savagery. But hearing Lynnea shouting his name made him just as vicious, just as savage in his desperation to save her from what this male would do to her.

It rolled, pinning him beneath it, its hands around his throat, choking him.

Then Lynnea darted into the room, grabbed the male by the hair, and yanked. That provided enough of a distraction for Sebastian to break the choke hold and roll away.

The other male rolled, too, trying to grab her, but Teaser dashed into the room and pulled Lynnea back to the doorway.

Sebastian scrambled to his feet, gasping for air. The other male got to his feet with more grace—and changed again.

Sebastian stared at the bull demon. It didn’t have the height or muscle of a real bull demon, but the horns could gore him just as effectively.

He felt the tingle of power, but he still hesitated to reveal the wizard side of his nature.

Then the male roared, lowered his head, and charged—not at Sebastian but at Teaser, the rival male who was holding the female prey.

Sebastian leaped on the male, one hand grabbing a horn while the other hand clamped on the male’s throat. As they twisted and fell, he let the wizard’s lightning surge through him and into his hands.

The male screamed as the lightning ripped through it, burned it, razored through brain and heart.

Finally it stopped moving. The smell of burned flesh hung in the air.

Sebastian rolled away from the male and lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling, sickened by what he’d just done. And sickened even more by a loss of innocence—not just because he’d killed, but because he’d seen a truth about himself.

“Sebastian?”

Lynnea.

The sound of her voice got him to his feet. Thank the Light, Teaser had pulled her into the corridor and had blocked her view of the last of the fight.

He moved to the doorway. “It’s dead,” he said in a flat voice.

She looked at him, studied his face, his eyes—and relaxed.

“I have some things to take care of here. Can you get Teaser back to his room?”

Teaser looked about to protest, then realized what Sebastian wanted. “Yeah.” He leaned on Lynnea, who immediately wrapped her arms around him. “Yeah, I’m a little shaky.”

“Of course you are,” Lynnea said. “That was horrible, seeing someone wearing your face.”

Sebastian wanted to touch her, hold her, let her warmth cleanse what was churning inside him. But he felt too vile, too filthy to get even another step closer. So he watched her lead Teaser to the stairs. Then he turned and walked back into the room.

The male was dead. Unquestionably dead. Sebastian’s stomach rolled as he looked at the body.

It must have tried to change again, or maybe that had been its body’s reaction to being burned inside by the wizard’s lightning. It was now a twisted blend of bull demon, his own face, and something dark-skinned that might have been the male’s natural form.

The woman was dead. Not knowing what else to do, he pulled the sheet up over her. She might have crossed over with a friend, might have someone looking for her. If not…

Humans who came to the Den seldom gave their real names or told anyone which landscape they called home. If there was no one here who knew her, they would bury her in the fields—and her friends and family back home would eventually accept that she was one of those people who had gotten lost in Ephemera’s landscapes.

Pulling the blanket off the bed, he wrapped the male’s body so no one else would have to look at it.

When he was finished, he just stood there, rubbing his thumbs over his fingertips. He, too, had the power to kill.

And he was going to make sure that…thing…stayed dead.

He walked out of the room, closed the door, and went down to the clerk’s desk to give his orders.

Dalton stared at the wooden planks that crossed the narrow creek and counted to one hundred for the tenth time.

Too long. Even if Faran had decided to check the saddle on Koltak’s horse or had been listening to further instructions, the guard had been gone too long.

“Henley, Addison,” he called without taking his eyes off the bridge. “Cross over and find out what’s delaying Faran.” As the two men handed their reins to the two remaining guards, Dalton held up a hand to detain them. Walking over to his own horse, he removed a lead rope secured to his saddle. “Tie this to your belts. Henley, you cross over the bridge to the other landscape. Addison, you stay on this side of wherever that bridge leads. If there’s trouble, Henley will pull the rope twice. That’s the signal to pull him out.”

Watching the two men tie the lead rope to their belts, Dalton felt the heat of embarrassment stain his face. He knew it was foolish. No amount of rope would make any difference once a person crossed over to another landscape. But he wasn’t going to let another man cross that bridge without trying to find out what was happening on the other side.

Henley and Addison moved across the planks that made up the bridge, keeping the length of the lead rope between them. The wood looked sturdy enough, but if the planks broke, the bridge would be gone, and there would be no way for Koltak to come back to Wizard City from that direction. No way to find out what had happened to Faran.

Henley’s right foot stepped off the planks of wood. The man was still visible, still in the landscape that contained Wizard City. Then Henley’s left foot lifted off the plank—and he was gone.

A few heartbeats later, a yank on the lead rope threw Addison off balance, had him stumbling forward.

“Jump, man! Jump!” Dalton shouted.

Not a controlled jump, but Addison managed to stumble off the bridge and land feet-first in the creek. Another jerk on the lead rope had him dropping to his hands and knees.

“What is it?” Dalton fought the urge to race across those planks to reach his men.

“Don’t know, Cap’n,” Addison said. “It’s not the signal, but I—”

Dalton watched the rope jerk once. Twice. That was the signal. “Move back this way, Addison. Keep steady pressure on the rope. Guide him back.” He struggled to keep his voice controlled and encouraging as Addison waded to the near side of the creek.

The rope disappeared into nothing, but they followed its movement. Not the steady movement of a man walking, but the stuttering struggle of someone moving with care and desperation.

Was it a man coming back over the bridge? They didn’t know what was on the other side.

“Addison! Get that rope off your belt. Now! Now!”

While Addison struggled to untie the lead rope, Dalton grabbed his arm and hauled him up to dry land.

Addison dropped the rope and backed away from the bridge. Dalton unsheathed his short sword and waited for whatever was about to cross over into their landscape.

“Do you hear that, Cap’n?” Addison asked, cocking his head.

Something faint but getting clearer. A voice panting over and over, “Guardians of Light and Guides of the Heart, please let me get him to the captain.”

Henley appeared suddenly, hunched over, his hands fisted on the lead rope he’d tied around Faran’s chest. “I found him, Captain,” he panted as he dragged Faran the rest of the way off the bridge. “He’s hurt bad.”

Dalton stared at the thing that had been dragged into this landscape along with Faran.

Almost every night for the past week, his daughter, his sweet little girl, had had nightmares about giant spiders creeping around the corners of her room, ready to eat her. Those nightmares had given him and his wife sleepless nights, because what the heart believed could change the resonance of a person and bring that person into contact with the landscape that matched that belief.

Now he was staring at his daughter’s nightmare. It existed. It was real. And far too close to home.

“Captain?” Henley said, his voice full of uncertainty.

Dalton shook himself. He couldn’t think of his family now. His men needed him.

Approaching cautiously, he went down on one knee next to Faran’s shoulder.

Faran opened his eyes. His breathing was harsh, as if it took all of his will to keep his lungs moving. “Can’t feel…my arms…or legs. Trapdoor…near bridge.”

Pressing a hand on Faran’s shoulder, Dalton studied the dead spider that was as big as a dog. The hilt of a knife stuck out of its head. “Hold on, Faran. You just hold on.”

Dalton stood up. “Guy, you ride back to the city, fetch a healer and a wagon. Henley, Addison, you wade across the creek and see if there are saplings or branches over in that wooded area that we can use as poles to make a litter.”

He watched his men scatter to follow his orders. Then he tried to will his pounding heart to calm back down to a steady pace. But his heart wasn’t fooled as he walked around Faran to take a position near the guard’s leg.

Maybe the best thing would be to cut the fangs away from the jaw. That would separate the spider from the man. But that would bring his hands, his body too close to those jaws, and even though he knew the spider was dead, his body didn’t believe it.

Cut the creature in half? That would ease the weight and drag on Faran. But his hands were shaking, and there was a chance of slicing into Faran’s leg. The guard couldn’t afford to lose more blood.

He felt his courage withering, and he wanted to ride away, wanted to get stinking drunk, wanted to shrug off the weight of being responsible for other men’s lives. And he could almost hear something whispering at the edges of his mind, feeding the shame and the fear.

“Cap’n? We found a couple saplings. Think they’ll do?”

Addison’s voice snapped him back. How long had he stood there, doing nothing to help a man who had followed his orders because his men trusted him with their lives?

Dalton took a step back before turning his head to look at the two men splashing across the creek. He swallowed his fear and gathered what was left of his courage.

“They’ll do,” he said when Addison and Henley reached him.

He sheathed his sword and took the cut sapling from Addison. His heart pounded as he used the wood to push Faran’s legs apart and gingerly push the spider’s body in the space between. Then he handed the sapling back to Addison, drew his sword, and hacked at the spider’s abdomen.

The spider didn’t move, didn’t twitch.

Encouraged, he shifted position to slice the spider’s body, working carefully, always aware that a careless move with the sword could harm his own man.

Finally he stepped back and nodded at Henley, who grabbed Faran under the arms and dragged the man away from the remains. The head, part of the torso, and four legs remained attached to the guard.

Addison studied him. “It’s a hard thing, Cap’n, to know the bad things in the world are close enough to touch us. I reckon we’ve got some evil days ahead of us.”

Dalton rubbed his sleeve over his face, wiping off sweat. “I know.” Using the bottom of his jacket, he wiped off his sword, then sheathed it. “Come on; let’s make that litter.”

Sebastian watched everyone who had gathered at his command—the bull demons, who had dug the deep fire pit; Hastings and Mr. Finch, who covered the bottom of the pit with kindling; two other residents, who gingerly lifted the blanket-wrapped bundle and lowered it into the pit; Philo, who opened a jar of lamp oil and poured it over the blanket.

He watched everyone—and wondered if the people he knew were behind those familiar faces.

When Philo stepped back, Sebastian held out his hand. He didn’t see who handed him the torch. It didn’t matter. He walked up to the pit, stared at the bundle for a long moment, then dropped the torch onto the oil-soaked blanket.

Despite his efforts to keep the creature covered up, a few of them had seen its face, frozen by death in the process of change. No one had asked how the thing had died—but all of them were acting wary around him.

They had more reasons than they knew to be wary.

“Daylight,” Philo said as he took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face. “I didn’t know there was a demon that could change shape and disguise itself as human.”

You’ve known, Sebastian thought. You just never realized it.

“What kind of demon was that?” Mr. Finch asked.

Sebastian watched the fire, trying to ignore the sick churning in his guts. He had to tell them. They had to be warned. A few days ago Teaser had told him five newcomers had arrived at the Den. Which meant there were four more of those things out there, able to wear anyone’s face.

“Sebastian?” Philo shifted his feet, then glanced at Hastings and Mr. Finch. “What kind of demon was it?”

He had to tell them. But it would change things.

He turned away from the fire and looked into Philo’s eyes. “It was an incubus. A pureblood incubus.”

Koltak let the horse wander. Maybe the animal would have better luck finding its way out of this thrice-cursed landscape. Where were the towns, the roads, even a farmhouse with some doltish landgrubber who might have enough wits to point him in a direction?

How many miles had he traveled? How many hours had he wandered around these green, rolling hills?

He should have made some inquiries in Wizard City. There were bound to be a few citizens who knew how to find the Den. Of course, none of them would have been willing to admit it to a wizard, but if he’d sensed any evasion, he could have brought them up to the Wizards’ Hall for questioning.

Too late for such thoughts. He had to find his way, alone, and bring Sebastian back to Wizard City. And once he’d accomplished his part of the plan to save Ephemera, the wizards in the council wouldn’t look at him as if he’d stepped in manure and hadn’t wiped all the stink of it off his boots.

The horse snorted, pricked its ears, changed its stride from an amble to an active walk.

Koltak tensed as he gathered the reins, then relaxed again when he spotted the black horse standing at the top of a rise, just watching him. He’d seen a handful of these horses since he’d crossed the bridge. The first two times he’d expected to find a farmhouse or some kind of estate, some indication that the animal belonged to someone. After that, he’d come to the sour conclusion that whoever lived in this landscape just let their animals run wild.

Or had already been crushed by the monsters Belladonna had unleashed in the world.

Prodding the horse with his heels, he deliberately turned away from the wild horse standing on the rise—and from the west, where the sun was making its journey toward the horizon. He had a bedroll and some food, and there was grain for the horse, but he hadn’t considered that he might not find the Den quickly or, barring that, find accommodations in a village. He didn’t want to sleep out in the wild.

Shelter, he thought. An inn with warm food and a bed with clean sheets. That’s all I ask. All I ask.

A few minutes later he found a bridge. Not just planks over a stream, but a proper wooden bridge wide enough and sturdy enough to take a farm wagon.

Which made no sense, since there was no road leading to it or away from it. But he wasn’t about to ponder the logic of a bridge that had no purpose. It was the first sign of civilization, the first hint that he might find a place to stay before the sun went down.

The horse crossed the bridge…and stepped onto a dirt road that followed the curves of the land.

Koltak jerked the reins, bringing the horse to an annoyed stop. Twisting in the saddle, he looked back over the bridge. The dirt road continued on the other side.

But it hadn’t been there before.

He’d crossed over into another landscape. But he hadn’t felt the warning tingle of magic, hadn’t had any warning that the bridge was more than a bridge.

His heart raced as he straightened in the saddle, wincing at the protest of muscles that had spent too many hours riding.

Urging the horse to a trot, he followed the road and felt relief when, a few minutes later, he caught a glimpse of rooftops and the smoke from chimneys.

By the time he reached the village, the shops had closed for the day, and most of the people had gone home to have their dinners, but he followed the sounds of voices and laughter to what was, undoubtedly, some kind of inn.

He groaned when he dismounted, then felt a flash of annoyance when no one hurried out to take his saddlebags so he wouldn’t have to carry them himself. Leaving the horse tied to a post, he hauled the saddlebags over his shoulder, stepped into the main room, then walked up to the bar, bumping into people who didn’t have the sense to step aside for him, as was proper.

The man behind the bar gave him a hard look and a cold smile. “Good evening to you.”

Koltak grunted. “What’s the name of this village?”

“Dunberry.”

Not a familiar name. “Give me a glass of your best ale.”

The man drew a glass of ale and set it on the bar. But he didn’t release the glass. “Let’s see your coin first.”

Deeply insulted, Koltak gave the man his most formidable stare. Then he tapped the badge pinned to his robe. “You dare insult someone who wears this badge?”

The man leaned a little closer to get a better look, then shrugged. “Could be a family trinket, for all I can tell. If it’s not but brass or copper, it might fetch enough to equal two glasses of ale and a plate of whatever is left in the kitchen. If it’s gold, it’s worth that and a room for the night, plus stabling for your horse, if you have one.”

“You think I would barter this?” Koltak shouted. “I am a wizard!”

The man cocked his head to one side and considered. “A wizard, is it? And what would that be?”

Koltak stared at the man, then turned and studied the other men standing at the bar and sitting at the tables.

“A wizard,” he repeated, growing uneasy when the blank looks didn’t change. “A Justice Maker.”

“Like a magistrate, you mean?” someone asked. “You set the fine if someone’s pig gets out of the pen and tramples the neighbor’s garden?”

“How dare you insult me?” Koltak whirled toward the sound of the voice but couldn’t tell who had spoken. “I am a Justice Maker. I can call down the lightning of justice and kill you where you stand!”

“Well, Mr. Wizard, sir,” said the man behind the bar, “around here we call that murder. And we don’t care if you do murder with a knife or with this lightning of yours. You kill a man here, we’ll hang you good and proper.”

A sharp-edged ball of fear rolled in Koltak’s belly. Not his part of the world. Not any of the landscapes he knew. He was powerless here, because any use of the power he controlled would have them hunting him like a common criminal.

“I have some money.” He fumbled with the money pouch tied to his belt and put three gold coins on the bar.

The man behind the bar moved one coin away from the others. “This will get you a meal, two glasses of ale, and a room.” He moved another coin. “This will get you a bath and stabling for your horse.”

“Yes,” Koltak said softly, humbly. “The horse is outside and…a bath would be welcome.”

“Most likely you’d like to have the meal in your room.”

Most likely you’d prefer me out of the way. “Thank you.”

“I’ll show you the room.” The man went to the open end of the bar. “Patrick! See to the gentleman’s horse.”

A youth, who looked enough like the barman to be family, stepped forward and shot Koltak a cold look. “I’ll see the poor creature gets a good feed and is tended properly.”

As Koltak followed the barman up the stairs to the rooms, he heard a man in the room below say, “That one thinks well of himself, doesn’t he?”

“That he does,” another answered. “And there’s no kindness in him. You can see it in his eyes.”

“That you can,” the first one replied. “Has me thinking that no one would miss him if a waterhorse took him for a fast ride and a long sleep.”

Then the barman opened a door and entered the room to light a lamp. “I’ll bring up your dinner as soon as it can be put together. Bath is down the other set of stairs, along with the indoor privies.”

Koltak set the saddlebags down at the foot of the bed and waited for the man to leave before sinking down on the bed.

They didn’t know about wizards. Did they know about the landscapes? If they didn’t, how did they survive?

They had no respect, no courtesy. They treated him like some common traveler.

He hadn’t felt this lost, this lonely, since he and Peter made the journey to Wizard City to become apprentice wizards. But he’d had his brother then, even though they hadn’t liked each other much. Now he was far from home, and the status that made even the wealthiest gentry careful to show respect meant nothing to anyone.

And that was another stone he would hang around Sebastian’s neck when the time came.

All the way back to the bordello, Sebastian told himself to expect any kind of reaction from Lynnea, to accept any disgust or revulsion she might feel toward him after seeing that thing. He’d prepared himself for any kind of response—except to have her throw her arms around him as soon as he walked into their room.

“You’re all right?” she asked, squeezing him hard enough to shift his ribs. “You’re not hurt?”

He didn’t complain about his ribs or the feeling that he couldn’t quite breathe. He just held on to the warmth of her, the love inside her—knowing he couldn’t hold on to it much longer. That was something else he’d prepared for on the walk back to the bordello.

“I’m all right,” he said, finally shifting her back enough to give himself breathing room. “How’s Teaser?”

Lynnea looked back at the door that led into the bathroom. “He said he wanted to be alone. Wouldn’t let me sit with him in his room, and he didn’t want to stay in here. I think he’s drinking.”

Giving her a light kiss on the forehead, Sebastian stepped aside. “I’d be worried about him if he weren’t trying to get drunk.”

Lynnea narrowed her eyes. “Is that your way of telling me you’re planning to get drunk too?”

“I guess it is.” He edged toward the bathroom door. “I’d better talk to him.”

Since it hadn’t occurred to Teaser to lock anyone out from that direction, Sebastian simply walked through the bathroom and opened the other door. He found Teaser sitting on the floor, back braced against the side of the bed, cuddling a half-full bottle of whiskey.

Settling on the floor next to his friend, he took the whiskey bottle, helped himself to a long swallow, then handed it back.

“That’s not me,” Teaser said. “That’s not me.”

Feeling like he’d aged a decade in the past few hours, Sebastian rested his head against the bed. “Yes, it is.”

Teaser looked at him with wounded eyes. “You think I’m like that? You think this is a mask I can take off? You think…” He raised one hand to his forehead, his nails digging in as if he could peel the skin off.

Sebastian grabbed Teaser’s hand and pulled it away from his face. “It’s what we are, Teaser. That’s what’s inside us. You know it is. When our power unfurls, that’s the feel of it. Diluted, but that’s the feel of it.”

“I know,” Teaser whispered. “I wanted…When it was on her, it made me so hungry, I wanted…And then I saw its face. My face.”

“It wore my face for a little while, too.” And he would never forget the fear that had filled him when it had looked at Lynnea.

They passed the whiskey bottle back and forth a couple of times.

“Then that thing really was…”

“An incubus.” Sebastian sighed. “A pureblood. The real thing.”

“Then what are we?”

“Mongrels.” Sebastian forced himself to smile. “The result of incubi and succubi mating with humans and having the seed take hold.”

Teaser stared at the whiskey bottle. “So…I’m part human?”

“Looks like it.”

“Do you know why I wanted to be your friend?”

Sebastian shrugged. “When I first came to the Den, there weren’t many incubi and succubi here, and you and I were the youngest ones. Since we liked each other and had fun trolling together, I didn’t give it any thought.”

“I wanted to be your friend because you knew how to be human,” Teaser said softly. “We learn how to imitate humans in order to blend in enough to stay in a place for a while and hunt, but you knew. The first time we ate at Philo’s, you said ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’”

He shifted, feeling embarrassed. “Well, my aunt is a stickler for good manners.”

Teaser nodded. “You knew those things. You knew how to do more than hunt. You knew how to have fun living in the Den. I wanted to know those things, too. Not that I didn’t like you,” he added, letting his head roll so he could give Sebastian an earnest look, “but you were more than any incubus I’d run across. And the times when Lee came to visit, and the three of us would strut on the streets…I saw how it must be for humans, having friends, being foolish, just having fun.”

“Were you lonely before you came to the Den?” Sebastian didn’t expect a reply. Teaser never spoke of where he grew up or what it was like or how the incubi and succubi lived, or even if there was some landscape that was “home” for them.

“Lynnea hugged me,” Teaser said softly. “I’ve never been hugged before, just for a hug.”

If it wasn’t for the times he’d lived with Nadia, he wouldn’t have known the warmth and comfort of a hug, either. What kind of man would he have become without Nadia and Glorianna and Lee?

“One day soon I’m going to have to take you to my aunt’s house for a couple of hours.”

Teaser’s eyes were filled with a blend of panic and hope. “Your aunt? But I’m…and she’s…Won’t she mind?”

Now he could smile and mean it. “Aunt Nadia has a soft spot in her heart for bad boys. She’ll put you to work and make you feel human in no time.”

Teaser chuckled. His eyes started to close.

Sebastian stood up, put the whiskey bottle on the table by the bed, and hauled Teaser to a somewhat vertical position. “Go to bed and get some sleep. You won’t wake up happy if you end up sleeping on the floor.”

Teaser swayed gently as he studied his shoes. “My feet are way down there. How’d they do that?”

“It’s a mystery.” The barest push had Teaser flopping on the bed. Sebastian took off the shoes, rolled Teaser closer to the center of the bed, and tossed a blanket over him.

Then he went back to his own room.

He made excuses for not touching Lynnea. He needed a bath. He was tired. By the time she came out of the bathroom, he pretended to be asleep.

I’m doing this for her. I know what’s inside me now. Really know. I can’t let the stain of it dim her life.

When she cuddled up against his back, he didn’t turn to let her rest her head on his shoulder. And when her dreams invited him in, he stayed away—and had never felt so lonely.