Page 36 of Burn for the Devil
“Where’s your female?” I faced Stefan.
“She’s a woman, and she’s at home.”
He never brought her anywhere. “In the Fourth?” I asked.
Stefan nodded. “Not for much longer, it's no longer as safe as I’m comfortable with.” My gaze lit on Alexander, who pressed his lips together. “I’m retrieving her tonight,” Stefan added. “Transitioning back and forth is growing increasingly difficult.”
“This has never happened before, has it?” I eyed them one by one.
“Not in my lifetime,” Alastair offered.
“I have to go back,” I said. “We can’t let this happen.” We all had ties there, history, and we needed the magic present therein conjunction with our own. The magic that was the foundation of any spell work we used was retrieved from the Fourth Realm. There was some here, but not in enough quantity or quality for us to sustain our lifestyles in the manner we were accustomed to.
I felt Ilya’s stare, the accusation, and the weight of our mutually engineered disaster. He placed the entirety of the blame on me and while I was responsible for much, I was not responsible for the totality.
“It's too late Ramone, you can’t,” Ilya said.
My fists clenched and I stretched out my fingers, the stress and pressure building up in my bones. “If Lucian’s dead, who’s there to stop me?” My fondest memories and my favorite homes resided in that dimension; I couldn’t leave it unattended.
“Are you sure that’s wise?” Stefan arched a brow before sipping his whiskey, an unlit cigar in his other hand.
“Are you sure it's wise to let it crumble completely? Do we know what would happen?” I shot back.
Stefan leaned back against a table, crossing his legs at the ankle. “Nobody knows, this is unprecedented.”
I stalked toward him, leaving several feet between us. “I don’t think we want to find out the hard way.”
“Between that fucking wine, and yours and Ilya’s fumble with Kiara—the one magic source in hundreds of years, we’re fucked no matter what.”
He stood up straight. “However,” he paused to swallow another sip and placed the empty glass down. “Matthew mentioned something during Devane’s internment about wanting to round up all the Thorne women.” Stefan had all our attention now.
“And?” I prompted.
“Where is he?” Stefan pointedly asked.
“How the fuck should I know?”
He glowered at me. “This is your operation.”
“I’m not his keeper; he’s a whole other, unwelcome species,” I snarled back at him and turned around. “Alexander? Are you busy?”
“What? Kind of.” He had the grace to appear apologetic.
“Find Matthew,” I commanded him. “Watch him and see what he’s doing. Or find someone to do that for you.” The man nodded at me.
“Now, Alexander,” I barked. A group of people near us had stopped talking and gave us side-eye. I glared at them until they moved away.
“Smooth, Ramone,” Ilya chuckled.
Letting out a long breath, I asked, “Why does he want one of the Thornes? What is he planning? We found them first, he doesn’t have the right.”
“We can’t just go in, guns blazing. We’ll have to locate any remaining Thorne blood first.” Stefan offered.
“Does your woman possess the DNA?” I asked.
“She does. Not a lot, she’s Kiara’s nineth cousin, something drawn out like that.”
“Magic?” I realized I’d never asked before, nor had I met the girl.