“And that's why he can wait,” Vivian said decisively. “Ortar will go on a rampage while Lucifer will take the time to slowly enact his plans. We need to stop Ortar first.”

  “Fuck!” Raphael growled. “Fine, but I'm going with them.”

  “We'd be happy to have your help,” Odin said. “But before we go anywhere, I want to know if our information on the Manticores was vetted.” He glared at the other witch leaders.

  “I will contact the Manticore Queen myself,” Glinda said as she stood. “If the story checks out, when will you be leaving?”

  I glanced at my men, and they nodded. A look at Cerberus found him grinning. “We're good to go now if Odin and his team are up for it.”

  Odin looked at the four witches on his team, and they nodded. They must have been tired—Witches aren't as resilient as other beneathers—but they wanted to get this done as much as the rest of us.

  “We'll leave as soon as you have confirmation,” Odin said.

  “Very well.” Glinda left the room.

  Vivian handed Odin a plate of food and a soda. “Eat something before you pass out, Odin.”

  Odin took the offering with a crisp nod and settled into his seat to eat. We were about to put down two gods in one day. Vivian was right; Odin needed his strength. We all did.

  “You really have had a rough day,” Raphael murmured as he leaned against the back of my chair.

  “Raph, honey, the punches haven't stopped coming since the night of my wedding,” I said.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Slate sit up and cock his head. I glanced over and caught his eyes narrowing at Raphael. Right; they had both been at the wedding, but I wasn't at my reception long enough to introduce them. I'd have to explain it later. In private. Where Slate was less likely to make a scene.

  “You've been chasing Gods all this time?” Raphael asked. “It's been days.”

  “That's right, bird-man,” Cerberus said. “And we've seen some weird shit, let me tell you.”

  “Go on then.” Raph made an upward chin-nod at Cer. “Tell me.”

  “Fu-u-ck,” Cerberus drew out the word. “After the Titans and... after Heidi—” Cerberus swallowed visibly.

  “We've been through a lot; let's leave it at that,” I interrupted with a heavy look at Raph.

  “Got it,” Raph said. Then he noticed Slate's glare. He blinked and asked in surprise, “We got a problem?”

  “I don't know, do we?” Slate looked pointedly at Raph's hip pressed against my chair. “Elaria, who is this guy?”

  I glanced at my other men. “No one told Slate about Raph?” I asked them.

  “When should we have told him? In the middle of hunting your abductors down across Tartarus? Or perhaps during the battle to save you? Or maybe after we laid the Titans to sleep?” Declan lifted a cocky brow at me.

  “He's the Gargoyle who helped you at the pit?” Raphael asked as things started to click for him. “Did you get another man, Ellie?”

  “It's a long story.” I sighed. “But yes, I did. Raphael meet Slate, Lord of the Oregon Zone and my new boyfriend. Slate, this is my ex-boyfriend, the Archangel Raphael.”

  “Awkward,” Cerberus said gleefully as he looked back and forth between the men.

  “And painful... for you if you don't shut your trap,” I warned Cer.

  Cerberus just grinned.

  “You're dating a fucking gargoyle zone lord?” Raphael gaped at me. “If you needed another man...” He let the statement hang as he realized he had the full attention of my men, and they weren't delighted by his offer. “I would have thought you'd have called me, Ellie.”

  “It happened under unusual circumstances,” I said gently.

  “Yeah, Slate fucking abducted the both of us, stuck some magic-suppressing collars on our necks, and made us fight in his arena,” Cerberus said without a hint of bitterness. That damn dog had enjoyed the arena. “You know the collars my sis put on El, Hades, and Persephone? One of her cohorts stole them from Slate.”

  “You abducted Elaria?” Raphael stood up and his wings whooshed into existence behind him in a stunning display of angelic aggression. “And forced her to fight in a fucking gladiatorial arena? What the fuck is wrong with you, you fucking psychopath?”

  “Stand down, Raph!” I got up to move between him and Slate since Slate had, of course, jumped to his feet eagerly. “And shut the fuck up, Cerberus!”

  “Sorry,” Cer said with absolutely no apology in his tone.

  “You're dating your abductor?” Raphael transferred his fury to me. “What kind of twisted shit is that?”

  “We were both operating under false information,” I said. “It worked out for the best. In fact, it's how we found out about the Gods rising.”

  Raphael just shook his head at me in astonishment.

  “Besides”—I laid my hand gently on Raph's shoulder—“I didn't think you'd be interested in this kind of arrangement.”

  “Elaria,” Darcraxis ground out, “that is hardly the explanation any of us want to hear. Are you saying you'd like to add Raphael to our number?”

  “You couldn't just stay quiet and trust me, could you?” I snapped at Darc. “You couldn't let me handle this and let him down nicely.”

  “Let me down nicely?” Raphael lifted a brow. “We had something real, and now, what? You're saying it was nothing to you?”

  “Gods-damn you all!” I snarled. “Stop putting words in my mouth. And you!” I pointed at Slate; now smirking at Raph. “Sit the fuck down. No one is fighting over me today; I'm too fucking tired to deal with it, and I still have to sing a fucking monster god to sleep. Fuck! Now, I sound like Cerberus!”

  Slate held out his hands placatingly with a soft smile as he sat down.

  “Come with me, Raph.” I pulled him into the corridor and slammed the door behind us. “We had something great until you became an alcoholic, lying asshole. No, wait; you started off as a liar, you became an alcoholic asshole later.”

  “We talked about this—” he started to say.

  “Yes; and I forgave you.” I waved him down. “That doesn't mean I've forgotten. You even told me that you didn't expect me to forget. You're a good man, Raph. I loved you so damn much; I would have married you if you hadn't acted as you had. I still love you; always will.”

  “But you don't want to be with me,” he finished.

  “I'm sorry,” I said gently. “I can't. My life is different now.”

  “Do you love this guy?” He asked. “The Gargoyle.”

  “I do. You won't like him. Not ever, I suspect. Sometimes I don't like him.” I gave a soft huff of amusement. “He's arrogant and slick and so damn smart that he's usually right, which makes him infuriating, but he's also unshakably loyal, honorable, has literally taken bullets for me, and loves me enough to be here fighting beside me instead of running his zone.”

  “I love you too, you know?” Raph whispered. “Enough to fight beside you and for you.”

  “I know,” I said simply. “Thank you.”

  “But it doesn't change anything.”

  “It's too late for us, Raphael. Please don't fight for me; you won't win.”

  Raphael nodded forlornly and his wings disappeared. “All right, Ellie. I'll let it go.”

  I turned to head back inside.

  “For now,” he added.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Leine is a desert planet but more in the way Arizona is a desert than in the way the Sahara is. Its sandy plains lazed beneath craggy mountains and precious sections of rich soil spotted the landscape. Hardy plants huddled in these fecund islands, amid the ocean of sand, and mountain-fed rivers wound through them.

  A transporter had delivered us to a room in the Manticore palace. The Manticores aren't as technologically advanced as other beneather races and had to purchase the means to move through the Realms. Their representative had brought a portable transporter with him, and he used it to take us all to planet Leine.

  We stepped out into a stone hallway; grand but unadorned. No artwork hung on the walls and no rugs covered the floor. As our escort stepped forward on his lion paws, I realized why. Luxuries like carpeting would be lost on Manticores and as far as artwork, they didn't have the hands to create any, and I doubted they'd want art made by other beneathers hanging on their walls, reminding them of the fact that they lacked opposable thumbs. No; the Manticores kept their palace simple.

  Although, the Queen had a lovely chaise lounge for her throne.

  The gilded lounge had lion feet and the pillowed end curved up and in upon itself in the form of a flower. A rose blossomed within the carved curl, just beneath the Queen's draped paw. He leonine body stretched out across the velvet upholstery, its cinnabar color set off nicely against the gold velvet, with her glossy, russet, scorpion tail winding around the wooden feet. A thick collar of gold and rubies circled her throat, defining the juncture where lion fur met human skin. Above it, her golden-brown neck stretched up to a haughty head crowned by more gold and rubies. The Queen narrowed her piercing stare at me.

  “You have murdered many of my people, Spellsinger,” she hissed in accusation.

  “And your people murdered many humans first.” I strode forward to meet her glare for glare. “And then they attacked me.”

  “Humans are meat,” she snarled. “You killed my people for nothing. We attacked you to avenge our dead.”

  “How'd that work out for you?” I smirked at her.

  “Enough!” Odin stepped between us as the Queen started to growl. “There's bad blood between you; everyone knows that. And yet Elaria came here to help.”

  “Grudgingly, I'd wager.” The Queen bared her shark teeth at me.

  “You're damn fucking right,” I snapped. “I would have loved to watch your god destroy your entire evil race. Unfortunately, he probably wouldn't stop there. So, I'm here. But hey, go ahead and piss me off. I'll be happy to have an excuse to leave. As far as I'm concerned, I can deal with Ortar later; after he's exterminated you murderous Manticores.”

  Queen Farah roared and leapt off her throne. Before she could reach me, a shard of stone rose up from the floor and knocked her backward. The manticore guards around the throne room rushed forward but their queen roared at them, and they froze.

  Slate strode forward and stared Farah down. “Come at my woman again, and the next stone I throw will be much smaller and it will go straight through your heart,” he promised her.

  “Fucking gargoyle,” Farah snarled as she got to her feet and started doing that caged predator prowl back and forth in front of us. “Your stone magic doesn't scare me. My men would tear you apart before you could hurl your little rocks.”

  “I don't think so,” Slate said smugly. “But I'm willing to take that bet if you are.”

  “I said, enough!” Odin shouted and the entire palace shook. Slate wasn't the only one who could move stone and earth. “We agreed to come here and help.” Odin glared at Slate and me. “And you're deliberately provoking Queen Farah.”

  The Queen sniffed disdainfully and nodded.

  “And you have asked for our help,” Odin turned toward the Queen, “and as soon as we appeared, you provoked Elaria first. I have to agree with the Spellsinger; we could always wait till Ortar killed you and your people before we came back and put him down. Or you could agree to a truce and let us help you now. Your choice, Queen Farah.”

  Farah's eyes narrowed but she finally nodded. “Very well. I have a team prepared to escort you to the Southern Wastelands. Ortar is entombed within the Drekar Sea. A bridge in the Wastelands leads to the Forsaken Isle, where an underground cavern opens to the ocean, directly above his prison. You can work your magic from there; you won't even need to get wet.”

  “Lovely.” I rolled my eyes. “A trip to the Wastelands. Do you have vehicles or are we hoofing it?”

  “We are not barbarians,” the Queen scoffed.

  I glanced pointedly around the barren throne room but didn't say anything.

  “We have transportation,” Queen Farah went on. “Commander Garibald and his team will see you to the isle.”

  The Queen waved at a group of manticores who stood off to her left. A male manticore stepped forward and nodded to us before turning around and walking away, his scorpion tail scraping the floor in agitation.

  “I guess we're supposed to follow him,” I muttered to Cerberus.

  “Real charmers, these manticores,” he muttered back.

  “Your Majesty.” Odin nodded to Queen Farah but his expression remained irritated. “Come along,” he snapped at the rest of us as he followed the manticore commander.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The transportation turned out to be a long, covered carriage pulled by manticores. Not barbarians, my jiggly ass. But whatever. If the Manticores wanted to lug us all the way to this forsaken island, so be it.

  The seats inside the carriage consisted of padded benches that stretched down each side lengthwise, wide enough for a manticore to lay out on in any direction. I instantly made good use of the one of the right and plopped down on my back. We were traveling over a paved road so the jostling was minor. I'd be able to get a nice cat nap.

  “What's the story with you and the Angel?” Slate asked as he sat beside me.

  I groaned. “Ask Torin.”

  “No. I want to hear it from you.”

  I opened my eyes and stared straight up into his silver stare. Slate loomed over me with an irate expression that looked amazing on him. Fucking obnoxious, gorgeous, aggravating gargoyle.

  “It was years ago,” I said. “It's over. I moved on. Have I ever asked you about all the women you've fucked? No; because the number is probably in the thousands, and I still don't care. Now, fuck off, Gargoyle.”

  “I didn't love any of those women,” Slate whispered as he leaned closer. “Nor were there thousands of them. You, however, I love very much, and it appears that the Angel does as well.”

  “The Angel has been told to back off,” I said. “So, whatever he does or doesn't feel is none of your concern.”

  “He's not backing off; he's waiting.” Slate glanced toward the back of the carriage where Raphael had laid down using his wings as a pillow.

  No one was disturbing Raph's nap, I noticed with a grimace.

  “Waiting for what?” I asked even though I knew I'd regret it.

  “For one of us to fuck up.” Slate shrugged. “For you to suddenly need a new lover. Whatever will get him back into your life and your bed.”

  “As annoying as it is that he's only been with us a few months and yet he's already acting possessive of you, I have to agree with Slate,” Torin said as my other men joined us. “Little bird, you know Raphael. He's not giving up on you.”

  “That doesn't matter since I've given up on him,” I said firmly. “He can waste all the time he wants on waiting for me, but I'm never taking him back. As far as I'm concerned; this is it. I don't want or need any more lovers.”

  “That was the situation we were in before you brought home a stray gargoyle,” Gage said.

  “And before the RS came back to life,” I reminded him. “I don't have any other spells lurking inside me, needing love to fuel them. I think I can confidently say that as long as you five stay alive, you're it for me.”

  Darc's gaze shifted to the sleeping angel pensively.

  “He's not going to kill one of you, Darc,” I growled beneath my breath. “That would hardly get him in my good graces.”

  “I would do anything to be with you, Elaria,” Darc said grimly. “I would even kill one of your other lovers.”

  Those other lovers looked at him in shock.

  “No offense to any of you,” Darcraxis went on. “But I would if it were a choice of you or me. I would do it, and if you're all honest with yourselves, you'd admit that you would as well.”

  “I would in a fucking heartbeat,” Slate said.

  “That's just great,” I huffed, sat up, and glared at Darc and Slate. “Thank you so much for sewing seeds of dissension among our happy little family.”

  “I'm loyal to this family.” Darcraxis shook his head. “I would do anything for these men, Elaria. I value them as brothers. We've fought beside each other. We've even fought you beside each other. And still, I would kill them for you. That's my point. You are the most important thing in all the Realms to me.”