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Liam charged. He stabbed the copper rod into the bastard’s gut, running it all the way through. Alistair belted out a pain-filled scream. “You fool. What are you doing?” The blast of energy he’d intended for Liam went wide.

An electric current zapped down the rod, burning Liam’s hands. Though his muscles spasmed, he held tight. Teeth gritted against the pain, he knifed the opposite end into the ground.

That done, he grabbed another length of copper. While the mage struggled to pull free of the first rod, Liam stabbed the second into his back and through his kidney. Forced it through flesh and bone as the mage screeched, then thrust it into the ground along with the first.

“Ignorant cretin. Release me.” Alistair grasped the length of copper sticking out of his chest. “I’ll burn your flesh from your bones for this.” His palm glowed, and bolts of energy crackled down the pipe into the earth.

“Might be an ignorant barkeep, but I know a thing or two about electric currents and ground rods.” With Alistair powered up, if Liam laid hands on the male, he’d be treated to the same kind of muscle-seizing pain the mage had dealt to Vivian.

He grabbed a third for good measure. Took his time strolling around the mage so he could savor the look of fear on the prick’s face.

“No. No, wait,” Alistair begged, eyes wide as they fell to the copper pipe in Liam’s hand.

Those pleas were music to Liam’s ears. He grinned and slammed the third beneath the male’s sternum, skewering him through, savoring the sound of Alistair’s screams before shoving the end in the dirt.

“You can’t do this,” the mage slurred past a mouthful of blood. “Not now. Not when I’m so close.” He held out his glowing fist and flared out his fingers like he expected to shoot a ball of fire. Electricity crackled down the copper rods into the earth. Alistair’s body spasmed, and his eyes rolled back. The dagger fell from his fingers. “No,” he grated through his rattling teeth. Blood leaked from his eyes.

“Doesn’t feel so good, does it?” Liam sneered.

While Alistair rotisseried on the copper spit, Liam strolled to an empty cell. There he pulled a length of iron from the door. Inside, small white hash marks covered the ruined walls. He knew instinctively they were Vivian’s. One for every day she’d spent in this hell hole. He firmed his jaw and stormed back to Alistair.

Liam may not be an expert on mages, but there was one weakness most species of the underworld shared. Good chance Alistair would be just as susceptible as the rest.

“Wait,” the mage gurgled when he realized Liam’s intent. “We could be partners. I could make you wealthy beyond your wildest dreams. You’ve no idea what the soul sword is capable of. All the power we need is in the stone.”

Liam ground his teeth together. “All the power in the world couldn’t give me what I truly want. You’ve destroyed the only thing that had any value to me.” He hitched a shoulder. “Killing you will be a nice consolation prize, though. My only regret is this won’t hurt you nearly as much as you’ve hurt her.” Then he slammed the iron rod from Vivian’s cage into Alistair’s heart.

The mage screeched, throwing back his head. Light shot from his eyes and mouth, firing into the sky. Liam threw his forearm up over his face and stumbled. Electricity crackled down the poles, and the ground shook.

The scent of burned flesh hit his nostrils. He squinted over the top of his arm just in time to see Alistair’s skin blackened, his fingertips turning to ash.

The light extinguished, and the room fell dark. For one breathless moment, Alistair’s blackened corpse remained upright, his charred body a sinister statue in the gloom. Then a gust of wind breezed through the mansion’s rubble, and the mage’s ashes crumpled. Alister’s body dissolved, blowing into the night.

When the air stilled, only the copper rods remained buried in the ground, like some fucked-up memorial erected to honor the dead mage.

Vivian.

Liam staggered to Alistair’s work table. His Bride lay on its surface, the starburst of blood on her chest stark against her pale skin. His throat tightened, and he slid his arm beneath her shoulders. Holding her close, he pressed his mouth to the top of her head. Tears burned his eyes. Try as he might, he couldn’t contain the sob that racked his body.

“Failed you, honey. Just as I failed everyone I love. I’m so sorry.”

He kissed her forehead.Thump. Her heart fluttered, then fell silent. He sucked a breath, frowning. Surely, he was hearing things. He pressed his tear-streaked cheek to hers. Still warm. The realization washed over him. Vivian had stabbed herself in the center of her chest, not the heart.

His breath caught, and he lifted his head. Alistair’s dagger rested in the middle of the copper memorial. The red stone in its hilt glowed with eternal light, pulsing with life. Vivian’s life.

He gathered his Bride into his arms. “I hear you, honey. I hear you.”

Twenty-Seven

“You wanted devotion,Beauty? How is this for devotion?” Liam grumbled under his breath, panting as he scaled the last of what had to be a million steps. His lungs burned for oxygen, his thigh muscles screaming. Idiotic priests and their fucking temples. That whole “it’s about the journey, not the destination” stuff was horse shit. He drew a slow breath, holding tight to the precious burden he carried.

At the top of the steep climb rested a stone-clad building with a thatched roof. Pillars marked the entrance, and a massive door with intricate carvings barred the entrance. The journey to the temple was supposed to prove that those who came here were worthy. After what Liam had been through, he’d expected something spectacular. As far as mystical temples went, it was far from impressive.

He swiped the sweat from his brow with his shoulder. With his hands occupied by precious cargo, he was forced to trudge through the jungle without a machete. Multiple cuts and bug bites marred his arms and legs. The ragged hem of his jeans dangled around his calf, a tooth from a black caiman caught up in the tangled threads.

He kicked the door with his mud-crusted boot. “Open says me,” he bellowed, in no mood to be polite.

The door swung inward, and what had to be a dozen hooded figures dressed in robes waited on the other side. Incense wafted from the building in a nose-burning cloud.