I struggle and kick, but neither his grip nor his muscled hold gives. “Put me down! I need to speak to Morpheus. Goddess, damn it!”
He plods back toward the wall. He’s going to throw me out! Unacceptable.
Smack.I hit the floor as if he’s dropped me, but by his growl, I suspect I shadowed through his fingers. Shit! Why is it I can always do it when I need to, but not when I want to? The cool slither of the shadows inside me remains, and I try to hold them, try with all my intention to shadoweave to Morpheus’s office, but the sensation proves fleeting. All I manage is to scramble to my feet and dodge his lumbering grasp.
By this time, my screams have invited spectators. A half ring of vampires has formed in the entrance to Bad Witches’ Club, and their murmurs and laughter seem to enrage the ogre. He charges toward me again.
“Never mind, Grog. I’m here,” Morpheus says, the scar on his face more pronounced with his scowl. Then again, the shade is almost always scowling.
I smooth the wrinkles from my jacket. “It’s about time. Goddess, did you ever consider a receptionist? An intercom system?”
He sighs. “My office, Eloise. Now.”
“Gladly.” I stride to his side.
His nostrils flare the moment I’m within smellingdistance. “You’re a shade,” he says, although it sounds as much like a question as a statement.
“We have a lot to catch up on.”
He glances at the audience we’ve attracted, and his frown grows more pronounced. “Mind your own business, or I’ll strip you all of your keys.”
The crowd disperses as if he dropped a stink bomb.
A moment later, I’m sinking into one of two chairs across the desk from him in his office. I’m again struck by how much the decor in here reminds me of a local bank. I feel like I’m about to ask for a personal loan rather than an army of men. It throws me off, and I try to remember the speech I’d prepared to win him to our side.
“Rumor has it you were made vampire during your confrontation with Valeska. Can you explain to me how it is you are now a shade? I didn’t think it was possible.”
“I descended to the Darklands and faced off with Thanesia. She granted me a beating heart as a reward for successfully walking the shadowpath to her door.”
Morpheus tips his head skeptically. “If you didn’t want to tell me, Eloise, you could just say so.”
“Magic. It was dark magic.”
He nods as if that is an acceptable explanation. Never mind that it’s a complete lie.
“Congratulations, by the way, on vanquishing Valeska and saving your mate. I have to admit, my money was on Valeska, but it was a bet I was happy to lose.”
“That’s a favor that would be easy for you to repay,” I say, hoping this conversation goes the way of my last.
“A favor to whom?” he asks, clearly not taking the bait. “You faced those trials of your own free will and won back your mate. I owe you no favors.”
Shit. The hard way, then. “Nevertheless, I need a favor from you now. From your whole triune.”
He groans. “Why do I think I’m not going to like what you have to say? Why are you here without Damien?”
“Something terrible has happened to Stygarde,” I start. I go on to tell him about Brahm and Nevina and about how his own mother and father, Tempest and Thane, are leading the resistance. I make sure to point out the theft and drugging of the kingdom’s children, and end with Damien’s plans to take back the throne. “We’re close, Morpheus, but we need more warriors. Without more men, Brahm’s soldiers outnumber ours. And unlike us, who value every soldier, Brahm is prepared to force his people to slaughter their own loved ones to stay in power.”
If I thought his expression was sour before, the look he gives me now is positively infuriated. “That fucking menace. How dare he pollute the Hymir line with a dark elf whore?”
“Then will you help us? I have the magic to bring you and however many men you can spare through a portal to Tenebris to fight.”
He rubs two fingers along his temple. “I understand why you asked me, Eloise, and you must know that I long to help. It has been centuries since I’ve seen my mother and father, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care what happens to them. If the elves have a stronghold in Stygarde, things are bad, indeed.”
“You won’t regret helping us. You can change the outcome of this war,” I promise.
But he shakes his head. “I can’t help you.”
“What? Why? You just said?—”
