Greg blinked.

  Seraphae was hanging in the air, arms out, angled to hit the ground head first about ten feet above him. He eased himself off the enormous topaz carefully. Brycen’s expanded form was mid-stride, the ripple in his gut froze, and a bit of his slobber was static in the air a few inches from his face.

  Everyone had stopped.

  He glanced down at the watch and took a deep breath. Fifteen minutes.

  His mind quickly formed a priority list.

  Number one—get the three of them out of here. How he was supposed to do that without touching them or anyone else was going to be tricky.

  Number two—Kill each and every one of the Frost-dosed mother fuckers.

  Greg frowned as he looked around at the sixteen other living people in the room and came to the conclusion rather quickly, that he was not smart enough to make this decision.

  “Isabella…please tell me you’re still there.”

  “I am.” Her voice echoed loudly in his mind without the background noise. While he understood her disappointment with using the dragon heart crystal, she contained it as best she could. “What do you need?”

  “Any ideas…” He snorted, raising his eyebrows and shaking his head. “This was the extent of my genius.” Greg spun in a slow circle to examine the room.

  “In fairness to you, it was quite smart.” She went silent for a moment while she thought it out before speaking again. “I assume you’re hoping for a best of both worlds solution here. Save your allies and kill your enemies?”

  “That would be ideal.” Greg nodded as his eyes landed on the hanging remains again. “You think those bones are as heavy as the skeleton I looted?”

  “Heavier, I’d wager.”

  Greg started climbing stairs. “Any ideas how to get Autumn and Seraphae out of here?”

  “Not any you’re going to like,” Isabella’s voice rose as Greg jumped up onto the rock wall and spring boarded off onto the dragon skeleton. “You’ve got consecrated ground. Might be time to pray.”

  “Yeah, not a big fan.” Greg grabbed hold of the thick spine and nearly flew over the top of the dragon. He’d adjusted forward, assuming the skeleton would swing when he landed on it like they had when Seraphae and Kael were fighting on them. Of course, with a bit of thought, he realized how dumb that was.

  Time had stopped.

  Any force needs time in order to act.

  Including gravity.

  “At least I don’t need to figure out how to get these all to fall at the same time.” He commented to himself as he walked along the skeletal back to unhook the bones from the wires that fixed them in the air.

  It took him exactly four minutes and thirty-seven seconds to unhook all four skeletons from their restraints, at least according to the counter in the center of his screen. He hurried down the stairs, his eyes fixed on the pool of blood.

  “What am I supposed to do? Kneel? Beg? Can she even come to me while time is stopped?” he slid to a stop in front of the rippling puddle, a stream of blood having just hit it’s surface when time stopped.

  “She’s a god, I doubt she needs to follow the rules of…”

  “Greg Norwood.” A face formed within the pool, smoothing the ripples as it rose to look at him. She didn’t have the creepy echo she’d had when speaking through the deva. Instead, her voice was steady and seasoned, like a mother that had seen more than one rebellious child. “You appear to be in a bind.”

  He shifted his gaze from her lightly wrinkled face, to the earth, uncertain how to greet her. “Yeah…it’s a bit of a shitshow. Your…uhh…deitiness?”

  One of her eyebrows rose slightly, and the corner of her thin lips turned up. “What do you ask of me?”

  He looked up at Seraphae, and then across at Autumn mid swing on Doran. “I need to get my friends out of here.”

  The face didn’t reply immediately. The Mother Below looked up at her daughter, throat slit and falling to her doom, and her smile faded. “Without a proper vessel, I can save one of you. When time resumes, I can take my daughter’s blood into the earth and transport you anywhere.”

  Greg shifted his jaw back and forth. “Guessing we won’t have enough time to get a proper vessel?”

  “If Seraphae were in perfect health, I could use her to evacuate all three of you, but it would certainly kill her. In her current state, it would be a waste of the precious little time you’ve bought.” Ruarth eyes suddenly shifted, and then the face folded in on itself to flip the other direction.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Perhaps I can be of some assistance?”

  The timber of the voice coming from behind him reminded him of Brannoc—deep, entrancing, and full of rasp. When he turned around, he was confronted by anything but. The devil-like deva that had initially sacrificed him, and later attempted to bargain his powers away, felt like a wallstreet bro that took himself far too seriously.

  The being in front of him wore Billabong board shorts and an open Hawaiian-style button-down featuring a print of leis and pineapples. He had the same deep crimson skin, curled ram horns, and pitch black hair, though it was tied back in a loose ponytail at the nape of his neck. The most striking and clear connection to Greg was his eyes. There had been a part of him that hoped he’d gotten his blood red eye from The Drowned Queen like his mentor, but staring into the swirling pools of blood on either side of his thin nose, there was no room for doubt.

  “We’ve not had the pleasure, though Asimoff tells me great things.” He strode forward, barefoot with a thin, barbed tail flicking the air behind him. “Khaziel,” He rolled his eyes slightly and waved his hand in the air, “The Wrath That Whispers, if you’re into those nonsensical titles.” He scrunched up his nose and offered a taloned hand to him.

  Greg’s eyes flicked from the Ruarth’s face in blood and Khaziel as he took his hand. “I’m confused. She can’t physically be here, but you can?”

  Khaziel shrugged. “I’m not strictly a god,” He leaned in and cupped his hand as if to hide his next words from Ruarth mere feet away. “Don’t let them fool you though, just as powerful. More in some cases.”

  “Why are you here Khaziel?” Ruarth’s eyes rolled.

  Khaziel frowned at her. “You came to help our little love child here. Is your baby daddy not allowed to do the same?” His eyes snapped back to Greg. “I’ve been spending some time on Earth. Did I use that correctly? Baby daddy?”

  “Uhh…yeah? Wait, you can help us get out of here?” Greg’s eyes lit up.

  “Ehhhh.” His shoulders went up, and he opened his left hand. A coconut appeared out of nowhere with a little umbrella in it. He took a sip, let out a contented sigh, and then continued. “I used a lot of juice getting here from O’ahu. I can pull you out no problem.” He gestured up to the bones ready to fall when the timer finished ticking down. “Could light those babies on fire, wouldn’t add much lethality, but it would be sick as fuck.”

  Greg blinked at him. Baby daddy? Sick as fuck? This guy is the source of the demonic resonance? “I won’t leave without both of them.”

  “Greg…” Isabella’s voice was already full of guilt. “You need to survive… We need to survive.”

  “Your brain parasite is right.” Khaziel tipped his coconut in his direction. “Got big plans for you, my boy.”

  “Wha—how did you know she’s in there?” Greg’s brows furrowed.

  “We’re gods, Greg.” Khaziel threw his arms up, the coconut going flying through the air and vanishing. Ruarth cleared her throat and gave him a flat look. “Okay, she’s a god. I've just got the looks, intellect, charisma, and overall aura that they wish they had. We let her hitch a ride. Little experiment.”

  Greg shook his head. He’d have to deal with that later. “Okay, fine. If you’ve got plans for me, then help me or I’ll day here.”

  “Don’t be foolish, Greg.” The Mother Below turned back toward him. “Get out of here with your life.”

  “Yeah, listen to mama.” Khaziel reached up a couple feet over his head and split the fabric of space like he was opening a zipper. “Simple math. Three out of four ain’t bad. Especially since it seems like you’re cutting off plenty of hydra heads with this move.”

  Greg shook his head. “All of us, or the bones crush us all.”

  Khaziel finished opening his rift with a flourished pull, a large red brick archway squeezing out. An opalescent fluid filled it, that Greg could almost see through. He tilted his head and scratched at his stubbled chin. “Tell you what, Greg. I’ll dip into my reserves, but you owe me. One day I’ll come calling, and whatever I ask…you don’t get to refuse.”

  “Don’t…” Isabella started, but Greg cut her off.

  “Fine.”

  Khaziel’s brilliant pointed teeth gleamed as he grinned and held out his hand. An ornate “K” was emblazoned on it like a brand that had been sitting in the fire for ages. “Anywhere you want it.”

  Greg swallowed and opened the duster up, lifting his shirt enough to expose his chest to the devil. Khaziel stepped forward, gave him a little wink, then pressed the brand to his right pectoral.

  “Wonderful doing business with you, son.” Khaziel adjusted his Hawaiian shirt and suddenly had another coconut in his hand. “How much time have we got?”

  ###

  Laurent Rillon was a busy man. Not the kind of busy that people used as an excuse to get out of fulfilling obligations, but the kind that kept him moving from meeting to meeting every moment of every day with little to no room for relaxation until very specific hours that he had designated for himself to wind down. These very specific hours were not to be interrupted for anything less that the most urgent emergency.

  When his assistant burst into his lounge, Laurent had just sat down in front of a crystal recording of the most recent opera with a cocktail. She was some distant cousin of his. If he was honest he could barely recall her name. Ynes? Yessi? It didn’t matter. She shuffled hurriedly to him, hands behind her back as she bowed her head.

  “S-sir, I’m sorry to disturb you.” She spoke quickly and her normally deep plum skin had blanched a few shades.

  “Out with it.” He rolled his eyes and took a sip from his glass.

  “There’s been an incident…” Her voice shook, and she took a moment to center herself before continuing. “An incident at Wyrm’s Gap.”

  Laurent tilted his head slightly, but didn’t speak. He was vaguely aware of his son’s extracurricular activities with the adventurer boy. While he was less than enthused about the production of Frost within his city, he understood it was the path The Inexpressable sent them on.

  “Expound,” he commanded.

  “Ummm.” She visibly swallowed and wiped her palms against her skirt. “The reports are strange, but from what I understood there was an accident with the skeletal remains and a fire. Twelve people died. Master Horatio was among them.”

  Laurent stared at her long enough that the tense silent made her knees start to quake. Bringing the glass to his lips, he savored a mouthful of the smoky liquor before nodding. “Bring me the reports you received. Whoever initially reported needs to be brought to me immediately.”

  “Of course, sir.” She bowed her head again. “It may take some time. The report came through message stone from the gap.”

  “I trust you’ll make things as expedient as possible.” He remained even keel, but the girl’s wide eyes and trembling jaw was evidence enough that she understood the underlying threat. “Off you go.” Laurent turned in his chair, staring out the floor to ceiling window of his lounge down on the city of Rhobair.

  The door closed and he glanced up at the dense fog encroaching on the top quarter of his window. “Sacrificing my son was not part of our deal.”

  The fog rippled as if it were a pool of water, and his words were a stone.

  “When you arrive, I expect you to return him to me.” Laurent tipped the glass to his lips again.