A twig snapped, and he blinked to attention. His eyes narrowed. Pandora was closer than she should have been and he realized she’d done to him what he’d done to Cronus—distracted him.
He withdrew one of his handmade daggers and sliced into his own palm. Blood welled—blood he then dripped over each of the vines. They came to instant life, rising like snakes—or vampires—who’d just encountered prey.
Pandora ground to a halt, her eyes widening.
“Bring her to me,” he commanded.
The vines, drunk on his blood, became an extension of his arms shooting forward. Pandora turned on her heel to run, but the vines caught her after she’d taken only three steps. They wound around her ankles and yanked. She performed a comical little face-plant, then clawed at the ground as she was dragged backward, toward Baden.
When she was within his reach, the vines released her and curled around his arms to await his next order. This. This was why the poisoning had been worth it. He planted his booted foot into the small of Pandora’s back. He opened his mouth to gloat but went quiet when he spotted a black fog rolling in from the forest. It was the blackest fog he’d ever seen. There was no way it was natural. It couldn’t be.
Bodies seemed to writhe inside it.
Screams echoed.
“What is that?” Pandora gasped. She wasn’t fighting him, he realized. She was still on the ground, watching the fog as he was.
Should they run? Or should they fight it?
Could they fight it?
Throb, throb, throb. When that pain faded, he realized his next move had been decided for him. It was too late to run. He had to fight.
Except, as the fog reached him...enveloped him...it gripped him as surely as a thousand fists, choking him, holding him immobile...dragging him away.
* * *
LIKE A PETULANT CHILD, Cameo shoved her plate of delicious food to the floor.
At the head of the table, Lazarus set down his fork and arched a brow at her. “Not hungry, sunshine?”
“Not for food,” she barked. She wanted vengeance.
He dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin before placing it beside the fork. “For what I can give you, then. Such a naughty girl. I approve.”
“For your blood!” She jumped to her feet, planted her palms on the tabletop, and leaned toward him. “You lied to me. You let me think I was going to be sold as a sex slave. You tricked me into crawling into bed with you.”
He tsked. “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy yourself.”
She scooped up a handful of what looked to be mashed potatoes and threw it at him. The white glop splattered over his chest, a few specks even making it up to his face.
“Why am I here? How am I here?” she demanded.
He didn’t bother cleaning himself up, just left the mess in place. “Once upon a time, half of my spirit was ripped out of my body and sucked inside the Paring Rod. Whoever wielded the Rod controlled me. As you know, that was Juliette. Then Strider beheaded me, and the other half of my spirit, as well as my body, was also sucked into the Rod. The two halves of my spirit were able to weave back together and return to my body, healing it. No, decapitation doesn’t mean the end, not for a creature like me. I was spit into this realm, and though I was stronger than ever, I was still unable to travel outside a certain grid of realms. So I picked my favorite one and took over. All of that to tell you...I’ve named this place the Realm of Lazarus.”
“Original,” she said, while inside, her mind whirled. So that’s part of what the Rod did? Opened a doorway between one realm and another. “How did you find me? What about all the other realms we traveled through?”
“I sense every time a new soul uses the Rod and enters my grid, and I go hunting. When I saw you, I remembered you. A friend of Strider’s, the male who killed me.”
“So you sought revenge?” Bastard!
He shook his dark head. “Why would I? He freed me from Juliette’s hold. She owned the Paring Rod and used it against me. I owe him a debt of gratitude.”
Okay. Wait. “I don’t understand.” Her tone softened. “Why trick me, then? Why not bring me straight here?”
His expression turned infinitely tender—and she didn’t understand that, either. “Because you were not sent here. You were sent elsewhere, to the inside of the painting you were holding when you touched the Rod. To get to you, I had to leave here. To return, I had to go through other realms. And trick you? Darling, you must not know how entertaining you are.”
No one had ever accused her of that before. “Where’s Viola? She used the Rod right before me.”
“I found her the same way I found you, but I let her go. She wasn’t nearly as interesting.”
Interesting? Me? Concentrate! “So you don’t know where she ended up?”
“No. Not here, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t have her hidden in one of the rooms, there to service me every time the desire strikes me. I have plenty of others for that task.”
Thrums of jealousy.
Which she snubbed. No reason to be jealous—he wouldn’t be having any of those women ever again because he wouldn’t be living much longer. She was going to kill him!
She gave the warrior her back, as if she couldn’t bear the sight of him a moment longer, while stealthily palming a knife. She kept the blade pressed against her forearm. Ready. “If this is the way you repay your debts...”
“You’re alive, aren’t you?” There was the slightest bit of irritation in his tone.