Chapter 31

Chapter Thirty-One

LYRE

Lyre stared at the ceiling, Clio's voice echoing in his ears. I won't leave him behind.

No one had ever cared about leaving him behind. No one had ever endangered their life on his account. No one had ever saved him from anything since the day he'd been born into this wretched world.

Yet this girl he barely knew was risking everything to get him out—the one thing no one would ever do, not even Reed, who wanted him to live.

Lyre blinked rapidly, an unfamiliar sting in his eyes. His emotions were out of control. Exhaustion was making him stupid.

Like kissing Clio. That had been stupid. Because now the fire was churning deep inside, the insatiable need dragging him down.

That was a problem for his future self. First, he needed to survive the night—and he couldn't count on Clio to save his ass again. She and her bodyguard were arguing, and despite Clio's stubbornness, he knew who'd win in the end.

Clio had saved him from the death spell, but no one could save him from his family.

Lyre's senses prickled, yanking him out of his thoughts. Warning hummed through him, and he turned his head toward the door.

Eryx stood in the threshold. Smiling, he closed the bedroom door.

Cold slipped through Lyre, and he propped himself up on one elbow, the muscles in his arm and back aching from the small movement. His gaze darted toward the nightstand, where the KLOC and his chains of spells sat.

With the lightning-fast movements of a trained fighter, Eryx had a knife in his hand and the blade pressed against Lyre's cheek before he could complete his reach for the chains.

"Keep your mouth shut," Eryx said pleasantly as he touched the blade's point to the delicate skin under Lyre's lower eyelid. "Or we'll see how pretty you look with only one eye."

Lyre clenched his jaw, half twisted to reach for his spells, his arm shaking.

Eryx scooped up the silver clock. He turned it over in a cursory examination, then slipped it into his pocket. "Tell me more about this spell and how it can wipe out all the magic in a city."

Now Lyre knew what that sound outside the window had been. He pressed his lips together. His magic reserves were so low he'd be lucky to conjure a light, let alone cast an actual defensive spell.

Eryx twitched his dagger, making sure Lyre could feel the cold, sharp metal.

"There's no defense against it," Lyre said, forcing his mouth into a smirk. "So unless you want to enjoy this level of pathetic weakness"—he slumped back onto the pillow before his arm gave out—"you can't use it for anything worthwhile."

Eryx smiled as he brought the dagger close to Lyre's face again. "You might be a genius at weaving spells, but you aren't very creative when it comes to waging war, are you?"

The blade pricked his cheekbone, and Lyre gritted his teeth.

Leaning closer, Eryx widened his smile. "It's fine if you don't want to talk. We'll have plenty of time to discuss this clock spell once I get you to the Overworld."

Lyre's jaw clenched tighter.

From outside the bedroom, Clio's voice rang out in concern. "Lyre?"

In a flash, Eryx clamped his strong fingers around Lyre's throat, cutting off his air. Lyre tried to pry the constricting pressure off his neck, but he was too weak.

"I'll return to Prince Bastian with an unstoppable spell and a Chrysalis master weaver." Eryx canted his gaze toward the door. "And I'd much rather do it without any emotional, inept females in tow."

"Lyre?" Clio's voice was right outside the door. "Eryx? Are you in th?—"

Dread pulsed through Lyre, but he couldn't make a sound.

Eryx pushed away from Lyre as he pivoted toward the door, and dim light gleamed across his dagger. Air rushed into Lyre's lungs, and violent coughing overtook him, convulsing his body and stealing his voice.

Eryx lunged across the room, dagger held low, positioned for a lethal strike.

The door swung open, and Eryx thrust his dagger into the body on the other side. Blood sprayed across the floor. Lyre hung partway off the bed, his hand outstretched as though he could have reached across the distance and stopped the daemon's strike.

Eryx yanked his dagger out of the woman's chest. With shock stamped on her face, she dropped to her knees, revealing Clio standing behind her.

Clio stared, her eyes glassy and wide.

Teeth bared in a vicious grin, Eryx shoved Kassia aside. She hit the wall and crumpled, weakly grasping at her chest.

"Always getting in my way, Kass," he mocked. "But that was the last time."

Clio stared at Eryx, at the bloody blade in his hand, then looked down at Kassia. Clio's face was white, and she wasn't breathing. She was in shock. Eryx turned his dagger toward her.

"Clio!" Lyre yelled.

Eryx lunged, and Clio's huge, beautiful summer-sky eyes plunged to pitch black. Her hand snapped out, and whatever spell she cast exploded against Eryx in a swirl of green light. He flew backward and smashed into the wall so hard his body punched a hole in the wood. He slumped down, shaking his head in a daze.

Just as fast as they'd darkened, Clio's irises lightened to the color of stormy seas. Tears spilled over her cheeks as she threw herself down at Kassia's side with an anguished wail.

Swearing, Lyre tried to pull himself up but slipped off the bed instead. Rolling onto his hands and knees, he reached for his chain of spells on the nightstand, hoping desperately he had enough magic to trigger a weave.

Eryx climbed to his feet and took one furious step toward Clio, then jerked straight. He whipped his head around as though a soundless voice had called his name.

"Fuck," he snarled.

His glare slashed across Lyre, anger and bitterness in his twisted mouth. Then he launched across the room. He jumped over Kassia's legs and sped through the doorway. Lyre stretched his hand toward the wall to engage his wards and trap Eryx inside, but the front door slammed before he got his fingers to the wood.

Clio didn't react at all, hunched over Kassia with both hands on the woman's chest and magic glowing under her palms.

Lyre swallowed down his heart and shut off his emotions. Since standing was too much effort, he crawled across the floor to kneel in front of Clio, Kassia between them. He placed his hands gently on top of Clio's.

"Clio," he whispered. "Stop."

"N-n-n-no." Her staring eyes were fixed on Kassia. "H-h-have to?—"

"Clio." He tightened his hands over hers. "It's too late. She's gone."

"No. No, she's not." Clio's head came up, her useless healing magic sputtering out. "She isn't gone. She isn't."

"I'm sorry, Clio." He slid his thumb gently over her wet cheek. "I'm so sorry."

"She's not gone." Fresh tears spilled down her face. "She's not. She's not! "

He gathered his strength and pushed to his feet. When he tried to pull Clio off the floor, she resisted, and he almost fell on her. Clenching his jaw and not allowing himself to falter again, he forced her up. The moment he gathered her into his arms, a screaming sob racked her entire body. She collapsed against him, and he staggered against the doorframe, holding her tight.

"He killed her," she wept. "How could he? How could he kill his own cousin?"

Lyre pressed his cheek against her hair and didn't tell her that for some—for too many—blood ties meant nothing in the face of ambition. She didn't need to hear that right now.

Ignoring the fatigue dragging at his limbs, he guided her out of the bedroom and into the main room, keeping her close with each step. Eryx had left with the KLOC, and Lyre was in no condition to chase him down. For now, his priority was keeping himself and Clio safe—and that meant getting out of the house.

He'd gotten Clio halfway to the door when he realized he was unarmed. He would need all the weavings he could get.

"Clio," he said softly, pulling her to a stop. "I need to get my spells, then we have to run for it."

She sucked in a breath that shuddered through her small frame from head to toe. She began to lift his chain from around her neck, the silver links lined with his best defensive weavings and the key for the KLOC. He stopped her before she could remove it.

"Hang on to that one for me, okay?" He tucked the chain under the neckline of her shirt. "I have lots more that?—"

The front door swung open. Lyre's head snapped around—and then the spell hit him.

The room reeled and he crashed into the kitchen table. The legs broke and the entire thing collapsed, Lyre crumpled on top of it. Hot liquid ran down his forehead and into his eyes, blinding him.

Someone hauled him up. His vision blurred, then steadied, bringing the face in front of his into focus.

Ariose's eyes were chips of topaz, hard and ruthless.

His brother spun him around to face the rest of the room and pushed him down on his knees. Clio was on her knees too, a hand pressed to her temple. Standing in a half circle in front of her were three more incubi.

Madrigal stood on the right, Andante stood on the left, and in the center, Lyceus regarded Clio with that calculating stare that never, ever faltered.

"Check the rest of the house," Lyceus commanded, his attention on Clio.

Andante obeyed their father's order without question, sweeping across the main room and down the short hall to check the bedroom and bathroom. The house was small, so he was back in only a minute.

"One of the bodyguards is dead in the bedroom. Stab wound." He glanced at Clio, clearly wondering who the killer was. "The other isn't here."

"And the ‘secret' spell?" Madrigal asked. "Is that here?"

Lyre kept his expression blank. Was Madrigal referring to the KLOC? How would he know about it? Lyre remembered Clio telling him she'd knocked Madrigal unconscious—had he witnessed her stealing the spell from Lyre's workroom?

His brothers couldn't know about it. Chrysalis could never know it existed. Hades could never know.

"Where is your other guard?" Andante asked Clio.

She pulled her head up with effort, fresh blood staining her hair. "I don't know. He betrayed us and fled."

"Where is the weave you stole from Lyre's workroom?" Madrigal demanded.

Clio pressed her lips together and said nothing.

"I can sense the residue of foreign magic, but the source isn't here." Andante looked at their father. "Lyre knows better ways to kill people than with daggers, so I suspect she's being truthful about her bodyguard. If he fled alone and the spell is not here, he must have taken it."

Madrigal hissed angrily.

Lyceus considered Clio, then turned away. "Find out what the spell is. I will begin the search for the bodyguard."

Without a backward glance, he strode out of the house and into the heavy darkness.

Ariose grabbed Lyre's hair and bent his head back. "So, brother, care to tell us what special weaving you've been hiding? Something that would leave such a strange residue throughout your house?"

Clio twisted toward Lyre, and their gazes met, reflecting their shared despair. They'd been captured and there was no escape. He had no magic and no weavings, and even if he did, he was powerless to use them. And Clio… what could Clio do against his brothers?

Her hopelessness and grief ripped at him. Unable to bear it, he had to close his eyes.

Ariose yanked on his hair again. "Well, Lyre? Will you talk, or do we need to force it out of you?"

He clenched his jaw. He wouldn't say a word. No one could know what he had created. The secret of the KLOC would die with him.

"Don't waste your time," Madrigal crooned. "There's a much easier source of information right here."

Lyre's eyes flew open. Madrigal stared at Clio, his irises already darkening. She scrambled backward on her knees, panic paling her face.

"I can make her tell us everything," he purred. "We don't need her for anything else, so any… damage… won't matter."

Andante glanced at Ariose, then shrugged. "Be quick about it."

"That's no fun," Madrigal whispered. His night-black eyes burned with awakening lust. "But I can play with her more later, yes?"

His body shimmered. He was dropping glamour. He was going to hit her with the full destructive power an incubus could unleash on another person.

Lyre lunged forward so violently he tore from Ariose's grip. He slammed into Clio, knocking her over, and his hand clamped over the back of her head. With the last dregs of magic he possessed, he sent a rough bolt of power into her skull. She went limp under him.

Ariose grabbed him and threw him backward into the table's remains. Lyre slumped listlessly, not even attempting to get up. Clio lay on the floor, unconscious. Until she woke, her mind would be safe from Madrigal and the other incubi.

Madrigal knelt beside her, prodding her head and pulling her eyelids back.

"Unconscious. Probably for a few hours." He turned a sneer on Lyre. "Ruining my fun again, brother?"

Andante stepped up to the edge of the table. Ariose joined him on one side, Madrigal on the other. His three brothers stared down at him with identical merciless eyes.

"Well, Lyre," Andante murmured. "If we can't interrogate her , I guess we'll have to make do with you."

As Andante lifted his hand, magic sparking over his fingers in the beginnings of a cast, Lyre closed his eyes. " Don't be a fool ," Reed had begged him.

Lyre had been a fool his entire life. Why change now?

But still, he wished Dulcet had done a proper job killing him. It would have worked out better for everyone, himself included.