Chapter Twenty-One

Icy what you did there.

Rage.

Hate.

Loathing.

Blood red, hot anger flooded Oliver's body as he lay helpless in the damaged SUV. Everything that could go wrong had just gone wrong. Despite his promises, they'd taken Eva, and it was entirely his fault. She'd trusted him to keep her safe and he hadn't.

Mind screaming, begging to break free and rip into anything, he was unable to move.

Frozen.

Helpless.

Unable to do anything but watch with blood-filled eyes seething with fear and rage, he saw a single claw as the beast severed Eva's seatbelt where she hung for an eternal single second in time, before being scooped up and disappearing in a flurry of blackness and wiry fur. Never would he forget the horrified look frozen on her face, the pleading in her eyes as she was snatched and hurtled away, blood dripping from her injuries. That wouldn't be the last look he saw on her face, Oliver swore fiercely despite the fact that the stasis that hit him left him unable to even blink.

One instant he'd turned toward her, smiling at her beautiful face, opening his mouth to say something he hoped she might find interesting as they reentered the safety of his home. The next moment, they were hit simultaneously by what he assumed was an exceptionally powerful frozen time spell and slammed by a hellhound. And if he were a guessing man or one who could foresee every possibility, he realized that each of the SUVs had likely faced the exact same concurrent attacks in military precision. If he could see every possibility, he would have considered that a witch powerful enough to wiggle through his wards would also be able to spell hellhounds to search out their prey during the day. Just because it had never been done before didn't mean it wasn't a possibility.

Eva had fallen victim to his hubris, but in the end, her enemies would pay. Oliver didn't make the same mistakes twice. He'd underestimated both their strength and determination, but he swore it wouldn't happen again.

Within seconds of the attack, he was surrounded by his men pulling his immobile, helpless body from the wreck, while another of his staff witches fought to counteract the spell he'd been hit with. It was too late. She was gone. He'd failed her.

The armed guards, guards who had mostly been hidden from sight during Eva's stay, circled around, claws and weapons at the ready, while others carried him and the stunned men inside the safety of the gates. His body grew hotter as his blood and rage attempted unsuccessfully to burn the spell from his system.

With trained precision, the guards locked down the gates, windows, and doors as they brought him deeper into his home. Helpless, Oliver knew the soldiers would follow the protocol that he'd laid out on the rare chance that something like this would occur. Once the lockdown began, only three people would be able to come and go from the compound or end the lockdown. Of the three, he was incapacitated, and Malthazar was still unreachable on a hunt. This left Delta, who hopefully hadn't ventured far during her twenty-four-hour reprieve.

Inwardly, he fought for his men to deny their training and to immediately go after Eva. Go after her before she was gone. His eyes raged at them as they carried him inside, mentally ordering them to go after her, but also knowing the directive had previously been clear. He felt his phone buzzing in his pocket, startling one young soldier who with a stumble dropped Oliver's right side.

Grunting, Oliver mentally demanded the young wolf answer the phone if he planned to keep his head once Oliver was free. Gulping, the youth felt around in this pocket while the other kept a firm grip on Oliver, holding him upright.

"Helllllo?" his voice squeaked as he clicked the phone on.

"Is this a test?" Delta's voice screamed over the line for all to hear. "Who is this?"

Thank the old gods, Oliver thought. At least the system had alerted Delta of its activation. Hopefully, it would do the same for Malth. He needed the half-demon here; he needed him here days ago. Even if they couldn't find him, the magic should. This particular system had never been used, and theoretically they should get a notification of some sort, according to those who had set it up.

A scar-faced guard pulled the phone from the recruit's shaking hand. "Delta, system activated, not a drill. Code one, eight, eight, seven. I repeat: this is not a test. One, eight, eight, seven. Active and safe."

"I'm on my way." Despite Oliver's immobile state, his hearing still picked up everything around him, and he knew Delta's arrival meant that if he or the current witch on duty couldn't break this spell, without a doubt, Delta would smash it.

Instantly the phone rang again. Gruffly, the guard began, "Code one—"

"I come," said the deep voice on the other end, followed by a click.

Momentary relief flooded Oliver, as the men continued half walking, half dragging his dangling body between them to the house, while others circled around, on alert for a secondary attack. His legs were beginning to tingle as feeling slowly returned; already the spell was either dissipating or the witch's counter attempts had helped. Oliver fought to move his mouth, but it still refused to cooperate even as his fangs itched to burst forth.

Work faster, his mind screamed at the calm-faced older witch as she jogged sideways along with the men, attempting to weave magic over him with her hands as they bustled him down the drive to a hidden door that led underground back into the basement of the house.

As they entered the doors, the popping of his ears confirmed that the security spell was settling into place. All security guards would be moving to their assigned spaces around the compound, if they weren't there already. Alert and waiting for whatever happened next.

Oliver was settled into the well-finished basement where the bulk of his security staff worked and typically moved in and out of the property without being noticed by the occupants on the higher floors. Gritting his teeth, determined to will the breaking of the spell, he glared around the room while the security teams checked in with the leads. With care, the witch grasped his face with both hands, turning it toward her own.

"Hold now, sir." She maintained eye contact as she firmly issued the order. Despite her apparent calm demeanor, she obviously feared that when she dropped the spell, he would rage.

He hoped his eyes conveyed that despite the rage he was sure she could feel boiling from him, he didn't lack control.

Clenching her jaw, the woman nodded before laying her hands on him and uttering, "Praevaricator glaciem." Her hands pounded on his chest as she demanded, "Praevaricator glaciem."

Ice breaker.

Beginning slowly and then building as the moments passed, louder and louder she beat her hands upon him, ordering the spell to break the frozen state of his body. Faster and faster, she repeated as her hands followed the tempo. The sounds vibrated as they filled the air, echoing in his head as she unrelentingly fought the spell, refusing to surrender as the long minutes passed.

Oliver watched as the world seemed to slow down around him, noticing the details of the moments. The sweat slowly gathered along the witch's forehead and temples from the exertion until it pooled down the sides of her face, catching her hair as it went. The shifters moved anxiously around her, their animals uneasy as the sharp magic filled the air, hanging thick and threatening. Their voices slowed as they continued to monitor the situation, ascertaining the next threat. His vision blurred as he watched the guards' slow, methodical movements, checking doors and monitoring the cameras outside.

One final time her hands rose, hitting his body as he felt the spell weaken, then crack and break away as he regained control of his speech and limbs.

As soon as he felt the spell finally quiver and shatter around him, Oliver attempted to leap to his feet, ignoring the full, heavy feeling in his limbs. Instead of finding himself immediately upright, he in fact rolled over and off the settee, barely keeping to his feet and not face planting only due to the fact that one of his men reacted quickly enough to settle an arm around him, pulling him upward. The hired witch had collapsed to the floor in exhaustion, and he would have found himself on top of her if not for the shifter's quick reflexes.

Slowing down, he held onto the man's arm as his equilibrium regained its sense of up and down, while scanning the room. Scattered across the floor were the other guards from the accompanying vehicles, recovering on their own from the effects of the powerful spell. Despite the blood on them, they appeared to have only suffered the effects of the spell and only minor injuries from the hellhounds tossing their vehicles aside like toys.

Delta had arrived. Already she had a map strewn across a large table, with a well-worn, deeply stained wooden bowl on one side. A pendant swung from a chain in one hand, and she held a bone-bladed athame in her other as she barked orders at his men. While a few looked uneasily at each other, three shifters moved without hesitation to stand near the table, holding out their right hand to her. She quickly sliced deeply into their palms. Blood welling up, they promptly turned their blood-filled palms to the darkened bowl that had clearly held blood sacrifices on more than one occasion. Oliver noted those who had offered their blood freely, intending to acknowledge the sacrifice once Eva was returned to them. Already the blood slowed and their bodies began to heal the wounds.

Magic lay sharp and pungent in the air. Its thickness verified that this wasn't Delta's first attempt to locate Eva. For a moment, fear snapped around Oliver's heart before he immediately squashed it. Fear was the enemy, making a mockery of hope and intent; there was no place for it in a search for Eva.

Nodding at the wolf who had led the group during the attack and subsequent incapacitation, Oliver acknowledged that despite his own misgivings, everything had been done according to plan. Gaining his footing, he was able to shrug off the helpful hold and stand by himself.

"Move all of them to the infirmary down the hall," he instructed, gesturing toward the exhausted witch and still incapacitated guards who littered the ground.

Several men immediately stepped to it, working together to move them down the narrow basement hallway.

"Any ETA on Malthazar?"

"Not yet, sir. He went back to dark mode."

Malth was always in dark mode. He lived in the shadows, drawing them deeper and deeper around him as each journey out seemed to take a bit more of his soul despite the good he was doing. But if he said he was coming, Malthazar would come.

Still moving more slowly than he liked, Oliver made his way to Delta's side. A frustrated sigh escaped her. Placing his hand gently but firmly on her arm, he commanded, "We've got this. Let's find her, so when Malth gets here we're ready. Then we'll go get her and bring her home."

Delta gritted her teeth and hissed out, "And then they'll pay. They will all pay."

Grimly, Oliver nodded in agreement. By the gods, they would pay.