Chapter 6
Oh, hell, it wasn’t the Seal. She was going to open the idol box.
Zane could see the defensive magic on it from where he stood. This was gonna get ugly…
He lunged forward, trying to get the box out of her hands before she set it off.
Too late.
Thick red dust exploded out of it, enveloping both of them. It prickled against the exposed skin on his face like a thousand fiery needles stabbing into him. Zane coughed and hacked, feeling the dust slither down his throat like dozens of tiny snakes.
Three seconds later, an alarm went off, shattering the silent house like a scream.
Lights flashed on in the vault. Zane grabbed for the thief, getting one hand on the box. The woman, still coughing, drove her elbow hard into Zane’s ribs, knocking even more breath out of him and loosening his hold. She twisted away from him, but the box tilted and the heavy gold idol fell to the floor, landing on Zane’s foot.
Even with his tough skin, that hurt.
Through eyes streaming from magic dust, Zane caught a glimpse of another very nasty magical rune glowing on the shelf where the box had been. The vault door began to close automatically, as the rune glowed yellow, then red.
Time to leave.
The other burglar had the same idea. She dropped the box and bolted for the door, slipping out the narrowing opening. Scooping the velvet pouch that held the idol off the toe of his boot and stuffing it into one of the pockets of his vest, Zane followed, closing his eyes against the blast of light and magic that escaped just before the vault door swung shut.
Even with his natural immunity to magic, he was glad he wasn’t locked inside the vault with whatever spell that was.
Another alarm split the night, clashing with the first one in an ear-splitting cacophony. He had to get out now. No time to look for the Seal.
The burglar was already on her way out of the gallery, dodging and weaving around the displays, still choking on the red dust.
Zane could feel another runespell on the gallery floor, its magic racing out to surround them and hold them in place until Blaze could get there. The burglar made it out the door just ahead of the spell.
Damn. That burglar was either an accomplished sorceress, had expensive magical protection, or was the luckiest sucker on the face of the planet.
A barred gate was descending in the gallery doorway. Zane dove, sliding under it at the last second. The hallway was crisscrossed with moving laser beams, but he paid them no attention. They’d already set off all the alarms; he was blown.
Zane rolled to his feet and raced for the exit, cloaking himself as he went.
Zane! He could hear Tyr’s voice in his head, and sense the what-the-hell-have-you-done-now thoughts underneath.
Go! Don’t wait for me.
He could feel Tyr’s hesitation, and then felt his presence receding back toward the workroom and the balcony.
There was no sign of the other thief. She’d disappeared, leaving Zane to take the blame for her stupidity. Why the hell had she opened the box? Didn’t it occur to her it could be booby-trapped?
Zane pounded down the hallway. Just as he approached the staircase, he saw a flutter of white fabric as Blaze descended from above. He’d never get back to the workroom without her seeing him; the laser beams would outline his figure, even cloaked.
He flung himself into the dark corner behind the curve of the staircase. The floor was thick with dust—she should complain to her cleaning service.
Maybe he’d send them a note.
He held his breath against a sneeze, waiting for her to run past him down the stairs and continue on to the gallery. But she stopped, freezing on the staircase only a few feet from where he crouched.
She held herself very still, as if sensing his presence and trying to pinpoint where he was. Zane pinched his nose to keep the sneeze in and concentrated on his magical cloaking power. You don’t see me. You don’t sense me. I’m not here.
He could sense her, though. The beat of her heart, the warmth of her blood, the scent of her skin. She took a tentative step downward, and Zane dared to exhale in relief.
Too soon.
A furry dark shadow launched itself off the stair rail with a yowl, right into Zane’s face. He gasped, breathed in a noseful of dust and cat hair, and let out an explosive sneeze.
The cat clung to his ski mask, its claws scrabbling against his skin. Zane heard Blaze reciting a spell, and felt the invisible cords of a magical net descending around him.
He yanked the cat off his face and tossed it to the ground, spitting and snarling. Brushing away the net spell, he vaulted over the stair rail and wrapped his arms around Blaze, pinning her arms so she couldn’t try anything nastier.
“Nice try, sweetheart,” he murmured in her ear.
She struggled in his grasp, but he wasn’t human and she was no match for his strength, which seemed to infuriate her. She began another incantation, and he swung her around, gripped the back of her neck and pressed his mouth to hers, stifling her words.
The moment their lips touched, he forgot everything else. She tasted of lavender and honey, sweetness and sunshine. He drank her in heedlessly, desperately, like a man dying of thirst drinks cold, sparkling water.
She fizzed in his veins.
He felt her gasp, stealing his breath, and then her lips parted under his. A mass of sweet, hot memories tumbled through his mind—fragments of all the dreams he’d ever had about her. Candlelight and wild heat and warmth and love. Hands touching, lips caressing. Fields and wildflowers and flights under the stars.
Zane! It was Tyr’s mental voice, sounding anxious. Zane, what’s happening? I’m coming in!
Reality came crashing back. No! I’m coming out!
He released the witch and she stared at him from wide blue-green eyes, stunned. Before she could move or speak, he ran up two steps, leaped up onto the stair rail, and dove through the high vaulted window behind the stairway, shards of glass sparkling like falling stars as he fell through the darkness.
Blaze ran up to the landing, automatically casting a simple spell to protect her bare feet from the glass splinters on the floor. She put her hands on the windowsill and leaned out, feeling like she’d been speared through the heart.
She pressed her hand to her still-throbbing lips. One moment the thief had kissed her like his heart was on fire, filling her head with images and dreams, strange yet familiar.
And the next moment, he’d leaped to his death.
She scanned the terrace below, dreading what she would see, but there was nothing there. The outside lights shone on the flagstones, four stories down. They were blank and undisturbed, except by bits of glass glinting in the light. She twisted and looked up, but above there were no ropes, no ledges he could have grabbed onto. Nothing.
Her intruder had vanished into the night.