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He floated back a few feet, studying her, then shrugged. "Suit yourself."
Shoftiel fumed. He was unused to doing nothing, and the magic net covering Giselle could quite well kill her before he had a chance to stop it. In which case, he'd be jerked back to the Mistlands.
He dipped closer. Any sign of attack and he'd snatch her up and fly her clear of the place. He didn't care how much she fought him.
"Look," Giselle said as a path cleared in front of her. It pulsed with radiant light. "I guess that would be our invitation to the ball." She started walking.
Shoftiel shielded himself, then prepared another shield to throw around Giselle should she need it. He readied another spell to destroy the magic encasing her. As they went deeper into the smoke, the hair on his body prickled. The throb of power continued to deepen and expand. The presences he sensed gathered closer. Everything about this venture felt like a trap.
He closed the gap between them so that his wings brushed the witch's shoulders. She shivered at his touch and quickened her pace. He sped up to maintain contact. Instinct told him it was necessary, but he also took great satisfaction in her obvious discomfort.
The path meandered in looping curves. The lavender smoke disguised any landmarks. They'd walked nearly an hour when movement boiled on the left and a figure flowed onto the path, blocking the way.
It wore robes like the supplicants at the restaurant. Its face was black shadow with pearl eyes. Though its shape was human, Shoftiel could tell it was not. Giselle stopped a few feet away. The figure neither moved nor spoke.
"What do you want?" Giselle demanded.
No answer.
She started to go around, but Shoftiel stopped her. "Don't leave the path."
To his surprise, she obeyed. Then, before he could stop her, she lunged forward, passing through the figure. It burst apart into tatters of smoke and vanished. The motion made Giselle break contact with Shoftiel. Before he could overtake her again, lavender smoke swirled between them and she vanished.
"Giselle!" he shouted, but the only answer was silence. Shoftiel darted forward, but she was gone. There was no sign of the path. He might as well have been back in the Mistlands for all he could see. He released a burning swell of magic, cutting a swath through the smoke. For a moment, a space maybe thirty feet in diameter cleared. Dozens of lavender-robed figures stood about like statues, all facing different directions. He could see no sign of the witch.
Within a few seconds, the cleared space filled again. Shoftiel focused his senses on the binding between Giselle and him. Nothing. That he still remained in this place proved she was alive. But for how long? And how to find her?
He flung himself at a spot where he'd seen a robed watcher. Nothing was there. He released another burst of magic. The figures had all shifted places. Shoftiel snatched one, yanking its hood back.
"Where is she?" the angel demanded, shaking the creature.
Its only response was to shiver and collapse into smoke. Shoftiel flung aside the robe. Something akin to panic spooled tight in his belly.
He released another blast and flew across the exposed space. He repeated the exercise again and again. It was a lousy way to search, but he had little choice. He did have an excellent sense of direction, however, and knew without a doubt that he was moving deeper into this land of smoke. Whatever was hiding here had to be at the center. That's where Giselle would go. She was too stupidly stubborn to be stopped.
Shoftiel hovered, letting his senses play outward, sliding back and forth until he pinpointed the place of strongest power. He arrowed blindly toward it.
A force hit him like a hammer of god, smashing him out of the air. He slammed to the ground. His brain fogged and blackened around the edges as he gasped for breath. Bones had broken. He felt them knitting together. He flung himself upright, hardly aware of the explosions of pain racking his body. His wings shimmered into a crimson-and-gold mist, then resettled into feathers.
Shoftiel's shield spell had protected him from the magic he sensed in the ground beyond the pathway. Now he rocketed into the sky. This time he felt the blow coming before it struck. He dodged. He flung a bolt of magic in the direction from which the attack had come.
Another hammer strike. He twisted, but the blow caught his side, sending him tumbling until he finally caught himself with strong sweeps of his wings. An awareness searched for him. He could feel it. More sought him from below.
Shoftiel recognized the moment his opponent located him. He strengthened his shield and plunged back on his original path. When the strike came, he met it with a blast of magic that for a moment outlined a giant beast with a gaping mouth, hulking shoulders, and arms like sequoia redwoods. It had a multitude of fingers, each tipped with short, hooked claws. It screamed in pain and rage as white fire ran over its body.
Shoftiel took advantage of its distraction to wing past it. He homed in on the massed pulse of power and flew there with lightning speed.
The air thickened and he had to fight to get through. His ribs bellowed. Sweat slicked his skin. Abruptly he came out of the lavender smoke into a clear, round space, like the eye at the center of a hurricane. Golden lines of magic spilled out across the ground, weaving together into a brilliant tapestry. The spell was too complex for Shoftiel to understand without seeing it all.
Crossing the field of gold were supplicants of all shapes and sizes, all wearing lavender robes and wrapped in cocoons of golden light. They walked toward the center of the field where an open-roofed temple surrounded a squat pedestal, its round base wrapped in the spell's gold filaments. Something sat on top. Without a doubt, the angel knew that this was what Giselle had come to steal.
Shoftiel flew lower, gliding above the shuffling supplicants. As he watched, several fell. The light encasing them flared and they vanished. A moment later, he caught sight of Giselle. She'd nearly reached the temple. He raced to overtake her. He caught her by the shoulder just before she stepped within the alabaster pillars.
"Giselle."
She turned her face to look at him. Her skin was bloody, striped with cuts and blistered from burns. Her hair was little more than stubble. Her clothes hung in tatters and her backpack had disappeared. For a moment, Shoftiel didn't think she recognized him. Then one side of her mouth quirked. "Just in time for the grand finale," she said.
"Do you know what's happening here?"
