Kereny looked to Ormlo, who shrugged, uncaring that his fellow warlocks had been slain. Clenching her knife, she turned toward the temple doors, looking like she was about to bolt.
“Stay close. We’re leaving soon.” But not without his crew. To Ormlo, he said, “My men?”
“I opened a portal to New Orleans and sent them through. I removed their vassals only after they were in the mortal realm, and right before I slammed the portal in their faces.”
“Why no’ free them here?”
“They would have killed me, which would have hurt your interests.”
“Do nothing else without my direct order.” Munro ran a hand over his face. “Can the gateway be powered without a sacrifice?”
Ormlo blinked in confusion. “No. That’s what Tempus demands in exchange for his gifts. That’s all he wants. His appetite for beautiful innocents is never sated.”
The statue’s gaping mouth would hunger forever. Munro turned his attention to Ariza. The dead nymph’s sightless eyes still stared up in horror at the face of Tempus.
The warlocks had probably disintegrated her sister’s body in the acid pit by now.
Ormlo said, “If you want to use the gateway again, I can order up a nymph. Untouched, even by my father. He’s as bad as Tempus!”
“No, you sick fuck. I will no’ sacrifice an innocent.”
Suddenly the Instinct boomed in his head. —Destroy the statue! Defeat the god!—
Munro rarely denied his Instinct, but if he took down that statue, the destruction would bring guards running. He was in no shape to protect Kereny. Canna risk my mate.
Gritting his teeth against the Instinct’s command, he told Ormlo, “Make another portal to New Orleans.” Munro would be keeping this warlock as a hostage for leverage and for mystical protection against his ilk.
Ormlo’s lips thinned as his palms began to shimmer and vibrate.
“No’ so fun taking orders, is it?”
Against his will, Ormlo created a portal not ten feet away, revealing a cloudy night.
The scent of the fog wafting in told Munro that the rift had opened near the French Quarter, not far from Loa’s Emporium—his first stop. “Come, Kereny.” He offered his hand to her.
She eyed him suspiciously. “You might be taking me somewhere worse. What’s on the other side, wolf?”
“Our future. And there are few places worse than this.”
She must’ve taken his point. Blade at the ready, she joined him beside the portal.
He ushered her through but paused at the threshold to gaze at the gateway. What was to stop Jels from going back to the past for another version of Kereny to use as a counter-hostage? Or, for that matter, Jels could retrieve another Ormlo, one not bound by vows to a Lykae.
Munro had defeated the vassal, their most valuable spell; they might abduct another version of himself to study how he’d done it. Would an alternate Munro make his present version fade, or vice versa? His head pounded as he contemplated scenarios.
Bottom line: no one was safe from the Forgotten as long as they possessed the ability to move through time.
Munro could make sure Tempus’s toll was never paid again. The Instinct commanded: —DESTROY THE STATUE FOREVER!—
In his condition, he might not be capable of felling it. But when would he ever have another chance to try? “Kereny, wait for me. Stay just there.”
“What are you going to do?”
“One last thing.” To Ormlo, he said, “If anyone enters the temple, you defend us to the death.”
The warlock raised his glowing hands in readiness. “What are you planning, wolf?”
“Got a date with Tempus.”
When Ormlo caught on, his voice scaled higher: “Think about this! You can never go back again! If anything happens to your mate, I can’t collect another one for you.”
From the other side of the portal, Kereny asked, “What did he say?”
“Nothing.” He scowled at the warlock. “Just watch the door, lackey.”
Ormlo fought the command, but his vow compelled him to obey.
Gritting his teeth against the pain in his body, Munro turned toward the statue. That immense godsdamned statue.
Blood loss had left him feeling as weak as a mortal. Yet still he took sight . . . and charged. He gained speed, ramming his shoulder into a leg, tackling it.
CRACK.
This job called for more power than he could muster right now—or a lot of hits. Munro backed up and ran again. And again.
His victims’ words echoed in his head with each charge.
Little baby girl.
Crack.
They need me.
Hit.
Please, mister, no!
As fractures forked out like veins across the statue, Munro hesitated, his past warring with his future. Once he felled Tempus, he could never again retrieve his mortal mate. Nor see Tàmhas and his parents again.
He turned to look at Kereny. His female awaited him, and every second here was a risk. He could never pay the toll anyway.
Munro tensed to run at the statue one last time—
“STOP!” Jels yelled as he rushed forward from a new portal.
Behind Munro, the statue continued to rupture. “No stopping now, you prick.”
Jels raised his glowing palms. “You dare desecrate this holy place? Then you’ll pay with what you hold most dear!” He took a bead on Kereny, his right hand ablaze with black light—a lethal beam.
Munro leapt for Jels, yelling, “Ormlo, fire on him!” The warlock groaned with effort as he resisted the order.
Jels evaded Munro, portaling to the other side of the temple. He took aim again.
Munro bellowed, “Run, Kereny!”
As she fled into the city, Munro lunged for Jels once more.
But the archwarlock had already fired.
NINETEEN
Magic chased Ren through the portal into a new dimension. She dove and hit the ground just as a beam zoomed over her head, singeing locks of her fluttering hair.
She scrambled to her feet, blade in hand. Another bald warlock had arrived in the temple, bent on murder.
“Keep running!” Munro roared from Quondam.
She sped away from the threat, only slowing once the portal was out of sight. She found herself in a foggy maze of paved asphalt streets with darkened homes.