Nothing worse than being embarrassed in front of the woman he was courting.

And by a lowly creature.

He eyed the Ceterum, a monster he’d heard of. This was, however, the first one he’d seen.

It had a lot more tentacles than the pictures showed. And suckers on those waving arms. So much for them being extinct.

An appendage swung at his head, and Alistair ducked. Then immediately jumped over another swinging arm.

He quickly fired a bolt of fire at a third zoning in and sliced it. The tip fell off and wiggled, gray ooze eking. The creature uttered a shriek.

It could be hurt.

Cool.

The ground rumbled.

He dodged another tentacle and fired again.

Squeee. Plop.

Rumble.

Was this monster causing the tiny earthquakes?

More rumbling.

An exclaimed, “Holy shit, where are we?” had him turning his head.

“Willow?” Why had she followed?

“I think we just found a portal,” she exclaimed.

Yes, they had. And it had a welcoming committee.

He fired at a tentacle that tried to hook around her ankles.

Willow’s eyes widened as the limb sprayed ichor and waggled in the air.

“Um, Alistair, what is that?”

“Monster?” was his helpful reply.

“Cool.” And then, as calm as a killer during times of war, she joined him in slaying the monster.

Each slice of a limb brought more and more shakes of the ground.

Not good.

He looked down at his feet.

Squee. Another limb bit the dust.

Rumble.

“Willow, I think we should get back to the vault.”

She pointed at the beast. “But it’s not dead.”

“Yeah, and I think that’s the only reason we’re still alive.”

Slice. Yell. Tremble.

She peeked at the ground and bit her lower lip. “That’s not you doing that, is it?”

“Nope.”

A mouth opened in the Ceterum’s bulky body, and a fat tentacle shot out. Aimed at Willow.

Alistair didn’t even hesitate. He lunged, his arm turning into a white sword of pure magic, slicing through the tentacle with its moist suckers, severing it before those little mouths could attach to Willow.

He lay in the muck comprised of blood and dust. Silence descended. An agonizing silence as everything stilled, even the monster he’d just slain.

“Run!” he shouted, picking himself up off the ground. He ran past Willow and grabbed her by the hand, but her shoes—heels meant for looking sexy wrapped around his shoulders—didn’t run very well.

When Willow stumbled, Alistair swept her into his arms. She didn’t fight him but rather glanced over his shoulder and said, “Run faster.”

He poured on the speed and aimed for the altar he’d spotted, half broken, its stone halves heaving skyward in the rubble. He’d wager it was linked to the horn, even if he couldn’t see the magic.

“They’re coming,” she announced, words throaty. She didn’t tremble with fear, though. Instead, she flexed her magical muscle and held out her fingers.

He couldn’t see what magic she used. It certainly did nothing to curb the rumbling of the ground or quell the hisses, so many different sibilants, coming from behind them.

“It won’t hold them much longer.” Willow tensed in his arms, and he could feel the strain.

He leaped into the air, aiming for the spot where he hoped the rip existed.

The passage from one dimension to another was a breath-sucking cold that spat you out into sudden warmth and left you gasping. He hit the floor on his feet but hard enough to stagger.

“We made it back alive.” She sounded surprised.

“Of course, we did.” Never admit to doubt.

“Looks like we brought friends.”

He looked behind her at the horn, that stupid innocuous appendage, and saw the limb peeking out of mid-air, feeling its way around.

“I think that’s our cue to leave.”

“Not without Nana’s recipe.” She darted to grab it. The moment it left the pedestal, it set off an alarm. The whole chamber glowed red.

“That’s pretty,” she declared as everything took on a crimson hue.

“Glad you like it because that means our exit could be tricky.”

“It was my recipe,” she said with a frown, clutching it tight. “It fell out of my pocket.”

“It was found at a demon site.”

“It’s still mine. Not my fault you and your fancy wizard friends couldn’t crack it.” How ironic they couldn’t decode her sorcery.

“Watch out.” The tentacle reached across the floor, seeking them, and she stomped it.

When she would have raised her hand to use magic, he might have yelled, in a rather unmanly fashion, “Don’t do it.”

She did it. Tossed something energy-based at the portal. While in the very protected vault.

“We need to get out of here.” Because if there was one thing the vault didn’t like, it was magic being used. Especially combat magic.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her after him, aiming for the exit marked on the wall. A mundane light was their beacon out.

He drew the symbols to open the door as she exclaimed, “Wow, you should see how many tentacles can fit through that rip. I think it’s getting bigger.”

The door opened with a pressurized hiss, and he emerged to the pointed tips of two blades.

“Don’t aim those at me, you idiots,” Alistair exclaimed. “One of the artifacts opened a gate. Don’t let the monster out.”

“Gates cannot be opened inside the vault,” proclaimed idiot number one.

“Search them for an artifact.” Guard number two tucked his spear into a holder at his back and approached.

Alistair could feel the approaching appendages. Wind, full of heated sand and darkest despair, pushed past him.

“You morons,” he declared. “Look behind me.”

Before he could move, something shoved, and Alistair tumbled out of the doorway, the unnatural breeze whipping past, followed by a tentacle.

“What is that?” yelled a guard.

“Doesn’t matter. Don’t let it escape.”

Finally, they recognized the true danger. Alistair pulled Willow with him to safety and let the guards handle it.

Whacking it with magic, they cut off pieces of the probing arm, enough that they could slam the door shut.

Something banged on it.

“Are you going to do something?” Willow hissed.

“Like what? They locked the door.”

“What if it escapes?”

He was less worried about the Ceterum than he was about the doorway to that other world. A place best left forgotten.

He pushed away from Willow and approached the wall and guards. “As senior wizard on the scene, I am recommending we employ the obliteration protocol.”

“You can’t just destroy the vault,” the guard exclaimed.

The door at his back boomed and shook. Plaster fell.

Guard number two wasn’t as stupid as his friend. “Do it!”

Alistair held up his hands and invoked the magic threaded into the wall, power that wrapped around the entire vault. Once he tripped the right spell, it would react and obliterate everything inside.

Treasure, monster, and even fragile interdimensional rips.

Enacting it would result in committees and paperwork. Alistair hated paperwork. He did it anyway.

The wall flared a bright red and pulsed.

“It’s done,” he declared.

“Just so you know, when the wizards question me, I’m gonna tell them you broke the vault,” Willow said.

He laughed. “Gotta admit it was fun.”

“If that’s your idea of a good time, then we have problems.”

“We’ve been in trouble since the demons began their infiltration,” he said, sobering.

“That rip went to the demon world, didn’t it?”

“It did.”

“How did no one know?”

And by no one, she meant how did the wizards not figure it out? He shrugged. “Best guess, when the worlds were out of alignment, the horn remained inert. It probably reactivated when they began rotating in the same sphere again.” No need to mention that a certain touch might have set it off.

“So there could be more objects like that? Things that no one even suspects are magic out there in the world.”

“Yes.”

“And you think the demons will use them.”

“I think they’ll use any method they can to come to our world.”

“But only so long as we’re in alignment. Once we move apart, things will go back to normal, right?”

“They will. I just don’t know how long that will take.”

He led her away from the blackening wall of the vault and the bent-headed murmurs of the guards. As the heat of the intense obliteration fire burned everything into nothingness, so would the wall darken. Only when it crumbled would anyone be allowed to enter and examine the remains.

A few wizards went jogging past, excitement in their expression as they were called to action. They were in the minority. A glance out a window showed others streaming out of the building. Not exactly a brave bunch.

“Shouldn’t we stay to answer questions? Won’t it look suspicious, us leaving?” she asked.

“Very. I’ll just tell them we had important Mago business to attend to.”

“And you think they’ll buy that?”

“They’re too weak and too ill-informed to know any differently.”

“That’s a rude thing to say about your fellow wizards.”

“I wouldn’t compare them to me. We are night and day.”

“Understatement.”

“I’m glad to see you recognize my uniqueness.”

“Arrogance.”

“Well-earned arrogance.”

Her laughter warmed him. “How can I hate you when you say things like that?”

“Why would you want to hate me?” He stopped and forced her to face him.

Her gaze met his, clear and uncertain. “Because if I hate you, then I can’t fall for you.”

Willow, falling in love with him?

He didn’t know what to say.