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With Jazz in hand, Trevor shifted to the location he felt drawn to, and what he found horrified him.
He stood with his mate beside him, viewing the treeless and barren landscape. The earth was gray and cracked from lack of water. The world had not been able to withstand the devouring, hungry hordes of monsters set loose upon it. Nothing grew any longer. When the Dark King had first created this Realm, this had been a grassy plain where he had intended to place deer and antelope, but his experiments had not turned out the way he planned.
However, that wasn’t what horrified Trevor. He knew what all counties of the Dark Realm had become. It was the crack of light across the barren earth, about five feet wide by twenty feet in height, that kept him momentarily transfixed.
Trevor had no way of knowing how long Pestale had been working on this particular break in the wall, though he guessed it couldn’t have been too long, for he had not felt it until just recently.
Light streamed through the crack, but the magic threads that held the Prison Walls together reached towards one another, as though moved by another, outside force, evidently attempting to bridge the gap. Trevor smiled to himself. His Royal brethren were hard at work on the other side.
Pestale was there and standing with his back to them. He was totally naked, his arms outstretched towards the light. He appeared to be in some kind of trance as he chanted the word osclaitear over and over again.
“What is he saying?” Jazz asked as she clung to Trevor. “Wait … it’s translating itself—it means ‘open’, doesn’t it? He is chanting ‘open’.”
Flanking Pestale on each side were his two brothers, their heads lowered as they murmured the same command as a backup chorus. All stood naked as the essence of their magic worked itself into a breathing, living thing. That living magic left their bodies in a stream of dark mist, and deafening thunder cracked overhead.
As Jazz and Trevor watched, the sparkling black threads of evil magic burst into flame. The Dark Princes were trying to override the white magic on the other side, but their combined effort was fruitless. Trevor saw this at once. Why put so much energy into something destined to lose?
Pestale howled. They could see from the expressions that ravaged his face that he was beyond distressed.
“I will get through, Seelie … I will get through … Do not think I cannot break through,” he told the Royals he obviously knew were on the other side. He turned to his brothers, and then they heard his growl.
Trevor and Jazz stood and knew Pestale had seen them.
Without a word, the Dark Royals shifted.
* * *
Even as they vanished, Jazz felt the change in the atmosphere. It was as though something in her mind had taken over and allowed her to assimilate minute changes beyond her immediate perception.
She smiled to herself and shifted as well. She wanted to counter any attack they might have in mind. She managed to put herself thirty feet away from Trevor.
All she knew was that she didn’t want Trevor in danger. Three Dark Princes were enough to handle, without her being a liability and a distraction.
She knew he would risk all to save her. She had to be smart and prevent that; she had to be one step ahead. What she had, the only things she had, were human ingenuity and surprise—they had no idea what she was now.
The hilt of Trevor’s Death Sword was in his fist, but Hordly pushed forward at him regardless. They came to stand for a moment, face to face.
Hordly, still naked, grinned wickedly and turned towards Jazz to point his hard shaft at her. He stroked it, saying, “You aren’t made to fight us, woman. This … this is what you were made for—play and pleasure. Come, beauty, let me show you, while my brother attends to the Seelie.”
She snorted. “Put that little thing away—it does you no credit.”
Jazz saw that she had landed a solid hit to his ego. His face darkened with his anger, but Pestale and his other brother laughed at Hordly.
Pestale, now clothed, flicked his wrist. All three were clothed in what could have passed for a motorcycle gang’s black leather uniform. They wore heavily zippered black leather jackets over their tattooed bare chests, tight-fitting black leather pants, and silver-tipped boots.
Pestale waved a hand over his clothing and said, “I saw this in one of your movies while I enjoyed myself in the Human Realm. Do you like it, pretty woman?”
“You look, all three of you …” Jazz said in a sexy voice. “Like. You. Are. About. To go down.”
Pestale laughed and raised his hand to stop Hordly, who had taken a threatening step her way.
Jazz noted that the other one, the middle brother, whom she had heard Hordly call Graely, had stayed back and was quiet, watchful. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, and she was struck by something she couldn’t name. She didn’t have the time to contemplate it and shoved it to a back burner.
She saw Trevor had shifted up close and oh so personal to them. He swung his Death Sword in a slashing motion through the air. His voice was hard and purposeful. “Which one wants to meet eternal nothingness first?” he growled at them and swelled with confidence. She felt a wave of pride. Three stood against him, and he did not balk.
Pestale frowned darkly at him. “You do recall that your queen does not wish you to kill us.”
“Yes, I know, but I wish to. Always have.”
