possible.”
“Do you think you can cast it before I put an arrow through your heart?” Ariyal stepped beside her, stretching out his arm to clench and unclench his fingers. There was a shimmer in the air and suddenly an ash bow complete with a wooden arrow was in his hand. With a smooth motion he had it cocked and ready to fire.
Jaelyn grimaced. She might fully approve of the mage becoming a human pincushion, but the knowledge that Ariyal could make the bow and arrows appear from thin air creeped her out.
She had a definite allergy to wooden arrows.
Sergei paled, no doubt recalling his one-time ally had an itchy trigger finger.
“Relax, Ariyal,” the mage attempted to soothe. “There’s no need for any of us to be hasty.”
Ariyal remained poised for battle. “Put away the vial.”
“You’re the trespasser.” Sergei nervously licked his lips. “You put away your weapon.”
Jaelyn shifted. The two clearly had issues that had nothing to do with her and she had no intention of getting caught in the cross fire.
Not when the damned mage had a spell specifically designed to harm a vampire.
“A stalemate,” Ariyal mocked.
Sergei took a cautious step forward, his gaze darting toward the crib.
“If you’ve come for the child then you’re wasting your time,” he said. “You’ll die if you touch him.”
Ariyal made a sound of disgust. “You think that I can’t break through your magic?”
Sergei made a visible effort to gather his shaken courage. “I don’t doubt that you could shatter the protective shields around the cradle, but the spell I’ve placed on the child is specifically cast to harm those with fey blood.” He gave a tilt of his chin, covertly shifting another step into the room. “It was the only way to keep your friend Tearloch from taking off with my prize.”
Jaelyn scented the mage’s sour desperation, and she shifted to block his path to the baby, a cold smile curving her lips.
“Don’t even think about it.”
He halted, his pale eyes narrowing with a barely concealed hatred.
No love for vampires there.
“Stay back, leech,” he hissed, holding the vial over his head.
“You can’t win this game, mage,” Ariyal warned in lethal tones.
“You think I don’t know that?” the man snapped. “I’m no longer playing to win, merely to survive.”
“An unlikely outcome,” Ariyal drawled, deliberately drawing back the bowstring another fraction of an inch.
“Wait,” the man breathed, sweat blooming on his forehead.
“Why?” Ariyal demanded. “If you die the spell dies with you.”
“Along with the child,” the mage blurted out.
Jaelyn moved to place her hand on her companion’s arm. “Ariyal.”
“You would, of course, claim that you’ve bound the child to you,” Ariyal mocked, not bothering to glance in her direction. “I’m familiar with your habit of telling the truth only when it’s convenient.”
The pale eyes darkened with fear. “Do you want to risk killing the brat on the slim chance I’m lying?”
“Yes.”
“No,” Jaelyn interrupted, rolling her eyes at the typical male need to huff and puff at one another. Why actually communicate when it was so much more fun to bang on their chests? She turned to study to the mage, sensing that his terror went way beyond their own arrival in the townhouse. “What do you mean you’re merely trying to survive?”
Sergei gave a restless shrug. “I’m not a lunatic. Marika convinced me that resurrecting the Dark Lord would bring us both the power we craved, but I’ve discovered that such powers come at a price I’m no longer willing to pay.”
“Convenient,” Ariyal taunted.
“Actually it couldn’t be more inconvenient,” the mage snapped.
Ariyal didn’t hesitate. “Then give me the child and you won’t have to worry about the Dark Lord.”
“Right. And how long do you think I would survive without the child as protection? If you didn’t kill me then Tearloch most certainly