This was beginning to feel like one of those situations. Which meant that their so-called vacation was going to be anything but.

They stumbled onto the porch of the cozy little hunting lodge in Stone Gorge, turning solid immediately, getting pushed inside by the driving ice and snow. As they checked in, to the shock and awe of the proprietors who wondered how they had even made it up the mountain, Jacob began to fret more and more about why they were there.

They were both exhausted from the trip, him mainly because so much of it had taken place during daylight hours. The touch of the sun made Demons weary, forcing the weaker ones to sleep. He was of considerable age and talent, on the verge of being a powerful Elder, and so had been able to bear it more than another might, but still it had taken a great deal out of him.

The minute they checked into their room and shed their frozen, wet clothes, Jacob ushered his wife into the hottest shower their icy skin could stand. His curvy little wife immediately snuggled her wet, naked body up to his, her hands running up his back in that inviting caress she almost always used in order to draw him in closer to her. It worked every single time.

“Stop worrying,” she said. “I can hear you thinking and worrying.”

Of course she could. As imprinted mates they lived constantly in each other’s thoughts. They spoke telepathically just about as much as they spoke aloud. Which came in quite handy when they were feeling amorous with a nine-year-old running around. A very bright nine-year-old who could tell what they were saying even if they s-p-e-l-l-e-d words out over her head. It had been quite some time since they’d been able to do that.

It was a wonder he’d missed out on the understanding that she had been feeling neglected. But sometimes, when she put her mind to it, she could hide her feelings and thoughts from him.

“I think you know, as well as I do, what is driving you here.”

“I know,” she said with a frown. “I don’t know why it has to be here and why it has to be now, but you know that if this is premonition driving me then that means it’s important that I be here.” She pressed forward and drifted her lips across one of his pectoral muscles. “However, that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy our child-free existence while we’re at it.”

Jacob sighed as a very familiar heat began to bleed into him, originating from the touch of her mouth and the stroke of her hands. Even after over ten years of being together, he knew it was never going to cool. They would always be quick to fire to each other’s touch. It was the essence of their connection. It was surprising, he agreed, that they had gone so long without touching each other like this. She had been right to feel neglected. And with gentle fingertips skiing down the slope of her breast, he began to rectify the situation.

The meaning and reasons of why they were there could wait.

Panahasi had a dilemma. The Gargoyle had escaped … with the Amulet. An Amulet that promised to have great power and that, somehow, the Gargoyle could unlock. That is, provided the scripture was accurate … and provided he could figure out how. Panahasi knew exactly who the Gargoyle was and exactly what importance he had with the highest ranking members of the Politic Bodywalker faction. If the Gargoyle couldn’t figure out how to unlock the Amulet there was most certainly someone among the higher echelon of the Politic who could.

He had even heard rumors that Kamenwati had defected to the other side and was now working with their enemies. The traitor. But that meant he would immediately recognize it and would already know what it was capable of.

Initially, he had considered his luck in capturing the Gargoyle twofold. First he would use him for the Amulet to give himself power, then he would turn him over to his mistress, Odjit, in order to obtain the glory of her praises for a job well done in capturing an enemy so close to the Politic throne.

Not that she was actually known for praises. Not lately. Lately the Templar Bodywalkers had come to have reason, more reason than ever before, to fear the ruthless Odjit; ever since she had changed in appearance, growing somehow larger and more imposing than she had been before. No doubt the result of some kind of spellwork she had discovered and implemented, much in the way Kamenwati had discovered the Amulet. They were always on the hunt for more powerful magics, anything new and possibly able to give them a stronger foothold in the war against the Politic.

Only of late, the Templars had been less about finding new magics and more about pleasing their deadly mistress. Along with her physical changes had come a more powerful need to subjugate her followers. Perhaps some blowback from whatever she had done to herself.

But that made Panahasi’s position all the less enviable. Did he risk his neck right off, risk enraging her by telling her what had happened? Or did he simply remain quiet and hope she never found out about it? She might be displeased if he got out ahead of it, possibly enraged, but if he failed to tell her and it got back to her what he had done, then he would no doubt forfeit his life. It wouldn’t be the first time she had claimed that sort of price in order to mollify her anger and sense of betrayal.

Panahasi, however, was more along the lines of a coward. He did not readily admit it, but he did so now, telling himself it was only in the face of his mistress’s wrath that this side of himself came to bear.

He decided silence was the better solution. Die now or possibly die later, the choice was actually more simple then he had made it out to be.

There was only one problem.

Moribundi. His companion from earlier was privy to the knowledge of his flawed attempt at power. Should Moribundi find himself in the position where he could obtain clemency for a wrongdoing or position for revealing his friend’s failure, he would not hesitate to do so. It was far more likely Moribundi’s betrayal would lead to his ultimate death than it was likely the Gargoyle and Politic Bodywalkers would somehow gloat to Odjit about what had happened. Luckily, the Politic were not the gloating sort.

But Moribundi was even more of a coward than Panahasi was and there was no loyalty among the Templars. It was every man for himself.

So Panahasi began to research poisons.

He wasn’t about to take any chances.

And then he was going to send some of his underlings out on a search for the lost Gargoyle. If he could get Adoma’s Amulet back before the Gargoyle got too far, then all of this would be swept under the rug completely.

None of this would have been necessary if he’d been powerful enough to create his own damn Gargoyle. But as it stood he was not. Neither had Moribundi been. And he was unwilling to trust anyone else with the quest. No, he had to finish rectifying this. The Gargoyle had been wounded. Perhaps fatally, if Panahasi was lucky. Now it was just a matter of time. Time before his success or his failure was known.