holding back something inside him.
Something awful.
The tense muscles of his chest shimmered.
And parted.
He literally separated along all the major lines of his body.
White-gold light blazed from every crack. He shouted once, a bass note of absolute frustration.
Riana couldn’t get a full breath. She felt as if the brownstone’s walls were crushing in on her, forcing all the air out of the world. Cynda and Merilee went absolutely still on the floor beside her as Creed Lowell changed—no— transmogrified —into a being made completely out of light and energy.
He—it—was still man-shaped, still muscled, like some sort of god who stepped from the clouds onto their living room table. This other was so tall its head brushed against the remnants of the cuffs and chain it had destroyed.
It reached up and gripped the chain. The metal links melted into a puddle at its feet.
“Oh, shit,” Cynda whispered.
“Give him back the ring,” Merilee said immediately. “We don’t need it that badly. Fuck. My arrows are across the room.”
“No arrows.” Riana gulped air. Her hands dropped instinctively to the belt holding her daggers. A rattle and clatter told her Cynda had drawn her sword before even bothering to stand.
“No sword, either. Don’t kill him—I mean, don’t kill it—unless we have to.”
“Yeah,” Cynda muttered. “Sure.”
The other made a noise in between a growl and a roar and bent down to examine the melted metal on the table.
Caught between a wish to run and a strong desire to cower, Riana made herself get up. Her knees shook as she moved, and she knew her hands were shaking, too.
She checked the grounding circle. It was still intact, flames, water-soaked earth, and all. Somehow, Merilee was keeping a breeze weaving in and out of the flames. All secure. It should hold.
Right?
The other stood again, its golden head nearly touching the ceiling beam.
Riana glanced at the hardening puddle of metal that used to be a chain and some handcuffs. Her heart skipped and squeezed, and she swallowed again and again.
Fear.
No, terror.
She wasn’t used to terror.
She squeezed the signet ring in her hand. The mortar, pestle, and broom on the inside of her arm burned hot enough to keep her mind from fragmenting, and the dark crescent moon in the center of her tattoo literally squirmed against her skin.
“Goddess, my arm hurts,” Cynda murmured, then let out an amazing string of curses as Merilee pointed toward the door.
“The warning chimes. She’s ringing them, but not for us.”
Cynda was setting off chimes for other Sibyls, warning them away.
There’s mortal danger here. Riana stared at the gleaming golden god-thing. She searched its face for some hint of the person she had met, the human being she had touched, the man she had wanted only a few minutes ago. There’s death in this house.
The other seemed to be studying them as hard as they were studying it. It had no definite facial features, no eye color. And it didn’t seem to know her at all.
“I always thought death would wear black,” Riana said, almost to herself.
The other cocked its head.
It moved.
The table groaned beneath it, and the whole brownstone seemed to shake. The other stuck out its arm and knocked three covered mirrors off the nearby wall. They plummeted to the floor and shattered, leaving a dark, smoldering mark on the wall where the creature’s hand—did it have a hand?—made contact.
“Stop!” Cynda leaped up and thrust her flame-ringed sword forward. Merilee reacted next, charging around the table to pick up her bow and nock an arrow.
The other paid them no heed. A single step took it off the table and out of the circle.
So much for grounding. Riana’s thoughts fired automatically, offering her no comfort. So much for the fearsome powers of the Sibyls. If this creature sneezes, our roof will fall in.
The god-thing landed on the floor in front of her.
It was close enough to touch, and its
Something awful.
The tense muscles of his chest shimmered.
And parted.
He literally separated along all the major lines of his body.
White-gold light blazed from every crack. He shouted once, a bass note of absolute frustration.
Riana couldn’t get a full breath. She felt as if the brownstone’s walls were crushing in on her, forcing all the air out of the world. Cynda and Merilee went absolutely still on the floor beside her as Creed Lowell changed—no— transmogrified —into a being made completely out of light and energy.
He—it—was still man-shaped, still muscled, like some sort of god who stepped from the clouds onto their living room table. This other was so tall its head brushed against the remnants of the cuffs and chain it had destroyed.
It reached up and gripped the chain. The metal links melted into a puddle at its feet.
“Oh, shit,” Cynda whispered.
“Give him back the ring,” Merilee said immediately. “We don’t need it that badly. Fuck. My arrows are across the room.”
“No arrows.” Riana gulped air. Her hands dropped instinctively to the belt holding her daggers. A rattle and clatter told her Cynda had drawn her sword before even bothering to stand.
“No sword, either. Don’t kill him—I mean, don’t kill it—unless we have to.”
“Yeah,” Cynda muttered. “Sure.”
The other made a noise in between a growl and a roar and bent down to examine the melted metal on the table.
Caught between a wish to run and a strong desire to cower, Riana made herself get up. Her knees shook as she moved, and she knew her hands were shaking, too.
She checked the grounding circle. It was still intact, flames, water-soaked earth, and all. Somehow, Merilee was keeping a breeze weaving in and out of the flames. All secure. It should hold.
Right?
The other stood again, its golden head nearly touching the ceiling beam.
Riana glanced at the hardening puddle of metal that used to be a chain and some handcuffs. Her heart skipped and squeezed, and she swallowed again and again.
Fear.
No, terror.
She wasn’t used to terror.
She squeezed the signet ring in her hand. The mortar, pestle, and broom on the inside of her arm burned hot enough to keep her mind from fragmenting, and the dark crescent moon in the center of her tattoo literally squirmed against her skin.
“Goddess, my arm hurts,” Cynda murmured, then let out an amazing string of curses as Merilee pointed toward the door.
“The warning chimes. She’s ringing them, but not for us.”
Cynda was setting off chimes for other Sibyls, warning them away.
There’s mortal danger here. Riana stared at the gleaming golden god-thing. She searched its face for some hint of the person she had met, the human being she had touched, the man she had wanted only a few minutes ago. There’s death in this house.
The other seemed to be studying them as hard as they were studying it. It had no definite facial features, no eye color. And it didn’t seem to know her at all.
“I always thought death would wear black,” Riana said, almost to herself.
The other cocked its head.
It moved.
The table groaned beneath it, and the whole brownstone seemed to shake. The other stuck out its arm and knocked three covered mirrors off the nearby wall. They plummeted to the floor and shattered, leaving a dark, smoldering mark on the wall where the creature’s hand—did it have a hand?—made contact.
“Stop!” Cynda leaped up and thrust her flame-ringed sword forward. Merilee reacted next, charging around the table to pick up her bow and nock an arrow.
The other paid them no heed. A single step took it off the table and out of the circle.
So much for grounding. Riana’s thoughts fired automatically, offering her no comfort. So much for the fearsome powers of the Sibyls. If this creature sneezes, our roof will fall in.
The god-thing landed on the floor in front of her.
It was close enough to touch, and its
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