"Grab the brown spell book off the shelf."

  What an asshole. Trey fumed as he looked around at the fifty thousand shelves. All the books seemed old and brown. Most of their spines were worn, and they looked as though they would fall apart if opened one more time.

  Since Aldrin wanted to act like a dick, Trey decided to return the favor. He pointed to the closest book. "This one?"

  Aldrin scowled. "No."

  "This one?"

  "No."

  "This one?"

  "No."

  The game was no longer fun. Aldrin seemed to have the personality of a lion with a thorn in his paw. Too bad Trey couldn't rip that thorn out and solve both their problems. "Then be more specific so I can get the hell out of here. You have a ton of brown books."

  Aldrin grimaced as he shifted his lean body. "Are you blind? It's sitting on the table right in front of you."

  Trey glared at him, though he doubted his mean look had any effect on the guy. "You said on the shelf. Don't get pissy with me because you gave the wrong instructions."

  Trey was talking trash, acting brave, and matching Aldrin's glares—though Aldrin had him beaten hands down in looking scary—but on the inside, he was freaking the hell out.

  He had no idea what this guy was, because Aldrin hadn't answered him, and he didn't know just how much power the guy wielded. Trey didn't even see a door anywhere in the dusty room. He was stuck until he "helped" him.

  Like his help was in any way voluntary.

  "Well?" Aldrin snapped. "Are you gonna bring me the book or stare at it for the next century?"

  Just do what he wants so you can go home. In the pit of Trey's gut, he knew that things wouldn't be that easy. If he was lucky Aldrin would kill him quickly. If he was unlucky the bastard would make Trey his little bitch slave for all eternity.

  Chapter Two

  As much as Trey didn't want to approach Aldrin, he took the book over to the guy. He half expected Aldrin to turn into a two-headed monster with tentacles and kill him. Trey also wanted to whack him over his rude head with the heavy book.

  "Here." He held it out to him. "I helped you. Now can I go?"

  Trey wanted to ignore Aldrin's struggle to sit up, but he wasn't a coldhearted person, even if Aldrin had kidnapped him. Sometimes Trey needed to smack himself for having such a big, bleeding freaking heart.

  Setting the book on the floor, Trey grabbed Aldrin's arm, and yanked with all his might, but again Aldrin was too dang solid. "What're your bones made of, titanium?"

  "I can sit up by myself," Aldrin said tersely.

  "Yeah, I can see you're in such great shape. Now stop squirming and let me help you." Trey was about as helpful as a butterfly trying to lift a slab of concrete. "But you gotta do some of the heavy lifting, buddy."

  He ended up having to shove his foot against the frame of the couch to get Aldrin to a sitting position. Unfortunately, Aldrin started to fall back down, so Trey hurriedly sat beside him and kept him from falling over.

  Now how was he gonna get the book from the floor? Every time Trey reached forward, Aldrin starting slipping. "Can you be of some assistance?" He was breaking into a damn sweat, and all Aldrin did was lean into Trey's like a limp noodle.

  Aldrin waved his hand and the book levitated from the floor, then inched toward them before settling on his lap.

  "Are you freaking serious?" Trey shoved at his shoulder. Aldrin's body heat alone left him drowning in a pool of sweat, and the guy was heavy as hell. "You could've gotten the book off the table yourself."

  Jeez, this guy was really, really testing his patience.

  Aldrin opened the book, then tapped the page. "I need these ingredients." He sounded as though he was struggling to talk, taking quick pants between each word. Trey would've felt sorry for him, but he was a rude asshole and Trey had had about enough. Dr. Beckett had surely noticed by now that he was gone, and damn it, Trey wanted to leave this dungeon.

  He squinted at the page. It was bad enough the lighting in the room sucked, but the only thing written on the page were symbols. "Sorry, I didn't take ancient hieroglyphics in high school." He pointed at the book. "That's all gibberish to me."

  Aldrin made a rude noise in the back of his throat. He waved his hand and the symbols turned into words. As he read the list, Trey slowly shook his head. Eye of bat? Really? "So am I supposed to hunt a bat down and poke his eyes out?"

  "You'll find what you need on the shelves." Aldrin gasped and grunted as his chest rose and fell in soft pants. "Mix them together so that I may drink them."

  "But the list doesn't have measurements," Trey argued. "This isn't exactly a recipe for baking cookies."

  When Aldrin didn't answer, Trey turned his head to find the guy asleep—passed out, in a coma, he wasn't sure. "Just great."

  He wedged his way from under Aldrin's weight and took the book from the man's lap as Aldrin fell over. Trey sat it open on top of the already-piled books on the table and turned toward the shelf. Hiring a maid wouldn't have hurt. Not only did a layer of dust cover everything, but cobwebs clung everywhere, too.

  He hated spiders.

  Trey didn't look for the ingredients. Not at first. Instead, he searched the room for a door or secret passageway. Hell, right about now he'd settle for a wormhole. But he came up empty-handed. With no way out, Trey spent the next few hours gathering what he needed from the list.

  He had the ingredients lined up on the table but wasn't sure how much from each jar or bag to put into the wooden bowl. "A measuring spoon would've been nice."

  The hairs on his nape prickled seconds before he saw a set of flaming eyes in a dark corner. Trey froze as an extremely tall man emerged from the shadows. He moved swiftly across the room and curled his hand around Trey's neck, slamming him into a bookcase.

  Pain shot down Trey's spine as he was lifted off his feet by his throat.

  "Who the fuck're you?" Long fangs grew from the stranger's mouth as his whiskey-brown eyes turned crimson. Trey had never seen a more monstrous face in his life.

  "T-T-Trey." He curled his fingers around the guy's wrist, praying the stranger wasn't about to kill him. Twenty-four was too young to be murdered. Trey might not know what to do with his life, but getting killed wasn't at the top of his list.

  "What're you doing in the Keeper's chambers?"

  "The Keeper?"

  "The Keeper of the underworld," the man explained.

  "I c-can't b-breathe." Trey's head pounded with trapped blood that had nowhere to go. If the stranger strangled him much longer, either Trey would pass out or die.

  The man loosened his grip, lowering Trey to his feet. He sniffed at Trey, then cocked his head. "You're human."

  Trey pressed his hand to his throat and coughed. He looked around for something to drink, preferably bottled water, but the only thing liquid in the room was contained in a jar, and no way was he drinking that purple stuff.

  "How did you get here?" The stranger glanced toward the couch. His brows furrowed as his eyes filled with concern, but he didn't take a step away from Trey, as though Trey was some kind of threat.

  "I snorted some fairy dust." Trey spotted a chair at the end of the table and dropped into it, uncaring that his scrubs would get dirty. He highly doubted he would be back at work anytime soon.

  The guy glared at him.

  "Fine." Trey rubbed his forehead. "That dude showed up at my job, then drank my blood, and the next thing I know, I'm stuck in this room. He demanded I gather ingredients he needs. So here I am, taking a crash course in a witchery cooking class."

  The side of the man's mouth twitched like he was fighting a damn smile. Trey didn't see what was so funny about all of this.

  "Maybe I can assist you." The stranger pressed his hand to his chest. "I am Panahasi."

  "I don't care if you're Jesus," Trey snapped. "If you can work this spell, then I'm not needed here. Send me home. I've had enough of Aldrin's attitude."

  Panahasi waved his hand like he was shooing away a fly. Nothing happened. He waved it again, but Trey still sat there in the musty room.

  "Got an invisible spider web on you?" Trey asked.

  "The Keeper must have chanted some spell to keep you here."

  "Fantastic." Trey got up and approached the abnormally tall man. "Then let's get these cookies baked so I can go home."

  Trey gasped when the bottles levitated from the table, uncorked themselves, and various amounts of powder spilled into the bowl. The small satchels lifted, too, unraveled their own strings, and dumped sparing amounts of their contents.

  "I'm frightened as hell right now," Trey said, "but I'll admit, this is cool as fuck. Are you guessing the measurements?"

  Panahasi tapped his temple. "I just know them."

  Show-off.

  Trey pressed his finger against the page. "Aldrin said he had to drink this, but I don't see any liquids on the list."

  Panahasi studied him with those penetrating brown eyes. "Why do you keep calling him that?"

  "What, Aldrin?" Trey asked. "That's what he told me to call him. That's not his name?"

  Something behind Panahasi's eyes shifted. "He goes by many names."

  That wasn't mysterious as hell.

  "Like?"

  Panahasi ignored him as the bottles and bags settled back on the table. "Now for the 'liquid' part of the spell."

  Trey's eyes widened when Panahasi held his arm over the bowl, then he used a talon—that grew from one of his nails—to slice his wrist. Trey gagged as blood dripped into the wooden bowl.

  "That was so gross." Trey slapped a hand over his mouth.

  Panahasi smirked. "Ancient spells require ancient blood."

  If the sight of Panahasi's blood wasn't enough to make Trey nauseous, the smell had done the trick. Trey ran around the room, but there was no bathroom he could use. He spotted a basket and dropped to his knees in front of it as he tossed his stomach.

  The spell smelled like hot garage roasted over dog crap, then boiled in a pot of rotten cabbage. After wiping his mouth with the hem of his shirt, Trey held his hand over his mouth and nose as he rose to his feet.

  Panahasi had a glass goblet in his hand. Trey wasn't sure if the brew would cure Aldrin or kill him. He stayed on the other side of the room, waving his other hand in front of his face.

  If they didn't air the place out, he just might keel over.

  "Come, my old friend." Panahasi lifted Aldrin to a sitting position as if Aldrin weighed a feather. He pressed the goblet to Aldrin's lips. "Drink."

  Aldrin's eyes remained closed, but his throat muscles began to move. The hood of his cape slid from his head, and Trey stared wide-eyed at just how gorgeous he truly was.

  His thick mahogany hair was cut stylishly short, and Trey couldn't stop staring at the scars on his strong cheekbones. Aldrin reminded Trey of a medieval warrior, ruggedly handsome and ready to slay the world.

  If he hadn't been so weak.

  Aldrin crouched and shoved the goblet away, and Panahasi lowered him back to the cushions.

  "Is that it?" Trey asked. "He's all better now?"

  Panahasi brought the goblet back to the table and the noxious odor faded from the room. "It's a temporary fix."

  "What exactly is wrong with him?" Trey couldn't stop staring at Aldrin. Panahasi hadn't replaced the hood, and for some whacky reason, Trey thought of Sleepy Beauty.

  "He was attacked by an ancient creature. The first ever made. I'm not sure what Morog did to him, but the Keeper has been growing weaker since."

  "I'm in way over my head," Trey mumbled. Ancient this and ancient that had his head spinning. No way would Aldrin let him walk away from this. Trey knew too much, had seen too much.

  In the process of being hijacked to help Aldrin, Trey's fate had been sealed.

  * * * *

  The Keeper had kept himself cloaked for the past two years. No matter how hard Panahasi had tried, he could never locate him. But he'd felt the moment when the spell had broken.

  He just hadn't expected to find a human here.

  "So I'm just supposed to sit here for however long until Aldrin wakes up?" Trey scowled as he glared at the couch. "I should've called off today." His features pinched as he worried his hands. "My mom and dad are gonna be beside themselves. My boss has probably called them already, wondering where I went."

  "How long have you been down here?"

  Trey shrugged. "I'm guessing a few hours. Do you see a clock anywhere? My cell phone didn't transport here when I did, so I have no clue."

  Panahasi liked the little human. Trey wasn't very tall and wore a few extra pounds around the waist. He had a head full of red hair, and his blue eyes were so dark they almost appeared purple. He wasn't what humans would call handsome, or even pretty, but Panahasi had learned long ago that personality was the real thing that mattered.

  And he really liked Trey's snarky personality.

  "Time works differently here," Panahasi explained. "What is hours to you are a few short seconds in the human world."

  "Human world." Trey staggered and dropped back into his seat as he paled. "You know, I used to hate my strange dreams, but I'd settle for them over this reality crap."

  "Strange dreams?"

  Trey studied the floor. "They're weird, and sometimes…you know…naughty…but lately they've been what my friend calls biblical. The world ends in destruction. Morbidly apocalyptic."

  Panahasi narrowed his eyes as he studied Trey. Could he be…could the Primal Source have a mate? Was the even possible? Panahasi needed to talk to his brother. Not that Jaden would have an answer, but…Jesus fucking Christ. Trey was having world-ending dreams. That couldn't be good.

  Maybe Trey was the Keeper's salvation or maybe he was the key to the destruction of the universe. "I have to go."

  Trey shot from his chair, then looked nervously toward the couch. "You're just gonna leave me here with…him?"

  If what Panahasi suspected was true, Trey was in the safest place in the cosmos. The Keeper—also known as the Primal Source, the creator of everything—could blink and his enemies would simply cease to exist.

  Or he would have been able to do that if he had been at full power. If anyone knew who Trey belonged to…Panahasi shuddered. As much as the human wanted to go home, it was best he stayed in the underworld.

  "He's cynical, a bastard to deal with at times, can spout riddles that'll drive you mad, but he won't harm you, Trey."

  Trey stomped his foot as he scowled at Panahasi. "I want to go home! I didn't ask for any of this, and I didn't ask to be stuck with Oscar the Grouch. He's ungrateful as hell, bossy, and clearly he's never been taught manners. A simple thank-you goes a long way."

  Panahasi smirked at Trey's outrage. "You might be just what he needs."

  "What does that even mean?" Trey demanded.

  Panahasi walked backward and the room faded away. He stood in Christian's office the next moment. The vampire was seated behind his desk.

  "Knocking is always nice," Christian said as he hung up his desk phone.

  "Call the Ultionem to a meeting." This was bigger than himself or Jaden. He needed the leaders to put their heads together and figure out how to cure the Keeper, or the universe just might pay the price.

  * * * *

  "Are you flipping serious?" Trey glared at the spot where Panahasi had just stood. Had the guy really bailed on him? He turned when he heard moaning. Aldrin threw his arm over his eyes, then settled back down.

  Why wasn't Trey more freaked out about this? He'd seen things that couldn't be possible, yet he stood there just a bit frightened rather than having a total meltdown.

  He crept closer, his steps careful as he approached the couch. He felt like a straight-up perv checking out Aldrin as the guy slept. The cloak had fallen aside, and Trey got a good look at his ripped body. Aldrin wasn't as lean as Trey had thought he was. His shirt was raised—because his arm was—and Trey saw a patch of skin just above his waistband.

  And what a nice patch of skin it was.

  "Stop being creepy," Trey muttered to himself, turned, looked around, and sighed. The least Panahasi could've done was left him with something to eat or even a gallon of water.

  His stomach rumbled as he sat on the edge of the couch by Aldrin's feet and strummed his fingers on his knee. He didn't even have his phone to entertain himself.

  Or call for help. That was if he'd had cell reception wherever he was.

  This sucked balls.

  Aldrin sat up so fast Trey was knocked off the couch. He hit the floor with a hard thump but stayed down as he stared at Aldrin staring at him. The man's intense gaze was so forceful, so strong that Trey had to look away.

  "You weren't a dream."

  Trey looked back at him. Aldrin was everything Trey had told Panahasi he was, yet as he looked into Aldrin's eyes, Trey felt lost in them. "No, I'm not a dream. I'm the guy who baked your demonic cookies so you could feel better."

  Aldrin stared quizzically at him, as though trying to figure out if Trey was real or a figment of his imagination. He didn't like how hard Aldrin studied him, like Trey was some freak under his microscope.

  "Who are you?"

  "A very pissed-off man." He pushed to his feet and wiped his dusty hands on his scrubs. His uniform was already dirty from that chair, so there was no need to try to keep them clean now. "But you can call me Trey."

  Aldrin pulled his hood over his head and closed his cloak tighter around his firm body. Trey was now at the part where he should demand Aldrin send him home, yet he couldn't get the words past his lips.

  Aldrin glided his hand through the air, as if petting some unseen dog, then a table appeared to Trey's right, overflowing with food and drinks.

  Should he trust any of those delicious-looking dishes? Trey's stomach chose that moment to rumble. The dungeon no longer smelled like mothballs. The air filled with succulent scents, making Trey's mouth water as he stared at the ton of food in front of him.