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Breathing hard, Westvane backpedaled, putting distance between him and it. “Truly?”

“Here,” she said, from somewhere on the other side of the dead octopus.

“You good?”

“Is it dead?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m good.”

Westvane huffed and, avoiding twitching tentacles, rounded the room toward her. His lips curved when he spotted her. Covered in black blood, sitting beside a statue of a sea goddess, ass planted in a pile of gold coins, she stared at the Earth Octopus. An expression of horror — or maybe, something more aptly described as disgust — lined her face.

“Are you going to throw up?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I’m thinking about it.”

He studied her. Blue eyes still shimmering. Fading lightning staff still gripped in her hand. “Your magic’s back.”

“Fully juiced,” she said, rolling to her feet. Gold coins tumbled, rolling down the pile and across the floor. “You?”

Cracking his neck, Westvane took stock. Solid in his skin, stronger, but… the absence of his wings was telling. “Not quite, but it’s coming.”

With a nod, Truly flicked her hand. The scepter shrank, reabsorbing into her palm as she looked around. “Where’s Rosy?”

“Over here.” Montrose’s quick reply echoed across the chamber.

Following his voice, Truly walked to her left. She kept to the perimeter of the room, stepping over chunks of octopus, gaze searching. He stayed right behind her, scanning the space, visually investigating the nooks and crannies, alert to the possibility of another attack.

One never knew.

More than one Earth Octopus might call the subterranean cave system home.

On her heels, Westvane rounded the last curve. The gargoyle came into view. Fur matted with sweat, black blood dripping from his claws, he stood on a landing beyond a short rise of stairs. An entrance shaped like a hexagon rose beyond him. Glowing green, the space between the stone jambs undulated, tiny threads stung tight across the rippling surface.

Jogging up the stairs, Truly stopped next to the gargoyle. “Is that it?”

Montrose nodded. “The time warp.”

Head tipped back, she studied the structure. “You go first.”

“What?” Ears flat against his skull, Montrose frowned at her. “Why me?”

“Westvane killed the octopus. I provided the weapons,” she said, eyes dancing with mischief. “Least you can do is be the first to step inside.”

His ears swiveled to face front as the gargoyle growled, “Three months — three months of putting up with your shit. This is what I get. Pain in my ass. That’s what you are… have been from the start.”

Truly grinned, white teeth flashing through the grime on her face.

Westvane shook his head.

With a sigh, Montrose accepted his fate and strode toward the time warp. The green glow began to bubble. The strings inside the device spun, funneling into a vortex. The loud hum shook the antechamber. Dust filtered down from high columns ringing the room as wind gusted and the gargoyle stepped inside.

Bright light pulsed, obliterating the gloom.

A popping noise. A quick flash and…

Montrose disappeared.