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  When he spoke he was careful to use hushed tones. “I’ve gone outside a few times and haven’t seen any guards around the palace in hours. One of the waiting room soldiers was gossiping that they hadn’t been paid in weeks. Maybe we can get down to the cells and find Gavin without anyone stopping us.”

  “What about my mother? We need to find out what the hell happened to her!”

  “Whatever has happened, I know the Emperor won’t hurt her. Gavin is in much more danger. Megolyth may just be pissed off enough to kill him. If we can get Gavin out of jail, he can help us find your mom. Gavin wasn't arrested because he let your punk ass ex-husband escape. If that were the case he would have been jailed months ago. Something is going on and it isn’t good. The realm has become unstable in a way I haven't seen in over a century. Unfortunately, Megolyth has gotten too arrogant to see it.”

  Gypsy's lips twitched into a frown. She stared down at her boots. “How do you know he won't kill my mom?”

  “Because he thinks he’s in love with her. We don't have time to discuss details. He may want to punish her for not feeling the same, but I don’t believe he would kill her. That doesn't mean he wouldn't kill Gavin to hurt her.” Desmond reached up and placed his hand on the back of Gypsy’s neck. He rubbed it affectionately. “I know you don’t want to sit here and do nothing. Am I right?”

  She met his gaze and grinned. “You’re definitely right about that.”

  “Then let's go get our father and rescue your mother.”

  Leaving Gypsy at the rear doors, Desmond came down the hall and back into Scarlet’s room. Krull was administering something into her IV. Desmond almost always spoke to the doctor in Kirillian. Though Krull was a bit older than him, they were from the same province, thus they spoke the same dialect. It was oddly comforting to share a language with Krull and often reminded Desmond of his childhood growing up on Kirillia. Unfortunately, a good chunk of those memories were bad, but not all. Speaking with Krull reminded him of the street kids he’d run with back then. The streets had offered a welcome refuge from everything that was broken in his young life.

  When Krull finished with Scarlet he made his way past Desmond to check on the infant. At first Desmond planned to wait to speak with Krull when he was done, but then Desmond remembered how absorbed the doctor could get in his work and decided to interrupt.

  “Gypsy and I are going to try and free Gavin then hopefully find Harlan. Will you be okay until we get back?” Desmond asked.

  Krull gave a short, quick nod. “Scarlet seems to be getting stronger. Go do what you need to do. If I need to get Scarlet out of here, I will. I'll figure out a way to get word to you if that happens.”

  Desmond felt a little bit better. He went to get Gypsy and found her talking to Dragon. Missy was standing with them. As usual, things didn't go as planned. The last thing Desmond wanted was for Dragon to accompany them, but the crazy bastard kept insisting he go and Gypsy gave in. Desmond had no idea why Dragon wanted to go so bad. His uncle didn't give a shit about Gavin, but Desmond knew he would walk through the fires of hell to help Harlan. So instead of arguing, he just gave in too. Time was not on their side.

  Naturally, Missy wanted to come, refusing to leave Dragon’s side. Desmond tried to put his foot down at that, but Missy was unyielding. She rebuffed any attempt to pry her from Dragon's hand by shrieking, snarling, and trying to bite. Dragon was no help at all. He was even less able to talk to the fractious child than the rest of them. Desmond could have strong-armed Missy into a locked room and proceeded on, but the past few weeks had drained so much fight out of him that it was easier just to cave. Surely the three of them together could protect the little girl. All he really knew for sure was that they couldn't waste any more time.

  * * * *

  The locked gate was a bit of a challenge, but once they got past it there was no one in sight. Usually there were guards posted at every entrance and others milling about waiting to go on duty, but not today. Today there was absolutely no one around.

  At some point during her childhood, Gypsy had learned to open a lock with a pointed knife blade. It was a handy skill Desmond would like to have her teach him some day if they both get out of this alive. He made everyone wait by the guardhouse as he entered, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

  The keys have got to be in here somewhere.

  Even though it was daytime, the small room was dark. With just an old wood desk and a few surrounding chairs, it looked as abandoned as the rest of the jail. No men, no keys, nothing.

  Desmond emerged empty-handed. Dragon studied him with curiosity. “Where is the Royal Guard?”

  “I don’t know,” Desmond replied. “Something bad is happening.”

  Desmond crept over to the stairwell leading down to the cells and pushed on the first set of iron doors. There was an eerie creak as they opened. Pulling his sword, he went first. He stayed close to the black stone wall, stopping every few feet to listen. The cell odors got worse as they descended each step. Piss, shit and death hung in the air like an evening fog.

  There were no windows once they reached the bottom and they were plunged into a dank semi-darkness. Most of the wall lights had burned out, but a few remained to either flicker or give off weak light.

  As his vision adjusted, Desmond saw all of the cell doors were open. Mixing with the other unpleasant aromas, the stench of fresh blood kindled his terror. The first cell on their left revealed a body sprawled across the stone bench.

  Gypsy slipped in and leaned down over the man. “He’s dead. His throat's been cut.”

  They moved from cell to cell, slowly at first. Each one held a similar scene. Someone had dispatched the remaining prisoners by slitting their throats. A few bodies were almost decapitated the cuts were so deep.

  Gypsy quickened her pace as she raced from cell to cell. Finally she reached the last one. It was located on the back wall separate from the others. Just like the ones before it, the door hung open revealing three bodies. Two of the men were wearing the red and gold uniform of the Royal Guard. One of the guards had his neck shredded while the other's head was twisted backward with its eyes gouged out. All three men were drenched in blood.

  Desmond sheathed his weapon. He and Gypsy crouched by the body farthest away. It was Gavin. His body was turned, lying half on his side. From what Desmond could tell, he’d been stabbed multiple times.

  “Daddy!” Missy screamed throwing herself forward. Dragon grabbed her around the waist, lifting her up as she fought him with every ounce of energy she had.

  “Is he dead?” Desmond whispered.

  Gypsy pressed her ear against his chest, holding her own breath to listen. When she pulled back, her cheek came away smeared with bloody tears. “Not yet, but his pulse is very faint. We’ve got to get him to the hospital!”

  Desmond swallowed; tightness in his throat. After a moment he spoke the words no one wanted to hear. “He won’t make it.”

  Gypsy tore a chunk of fabric from one of the dead guards’ shirts. She folded it up several times and placed it on the worst of Gavin’s wounds. “We’ve got to try.”

  Desmond stared down at his father. What could they do? Even if they could get Gavin there, the hospital was in shambles. He’d seen these kinds of injuries before. If they tried to lift him, he’d bleed out faster. The situation looked pretty hopeless, but he felt obliged to offer some hope for Missy’s sake. “We can't risk moving him. Maybe we can get Krull to come down here.”

  Gypsy shook her head vigorously. “That’ll take too long!”

  “I have a suggestion,” Dragon offered. His tone was cool, casual, and a little bored. “I can turn him to stone.”

  Missy twisted free from Dragon’s grip and ran over. She dropped to floor next to her father. Wrapping her arms around his head, she pressed her forehead against his, weeping.

  Desmond and Gypsy stared at Dragon. Desmond was still trying to understand what his uncle was saying. Was Dragon trying to make a j
oke? “How will that help?”

  Dragon rubbed his chin in thought. “If I turn him now he will be preserved while still alive. When I reanimate him I can do it at the hospital so he can be treated immediately. I can’t promise it will be quick enough to save him, but it's something.”

  Desmond had to ask. “Are you sure you can even change him back?”

  “Am I sure? No. I'm not sure of anything, but I think I can,” he replied.

  Desmond tried to clear a logical path through his head where there was none. This was crazy. Gypsy opened her mouth to argue, but he silenced her with a look. He crouched down next to her and pulled her hands away from the flowing wounds. Gypsy tried to yank her hands away, but he squeezed to keep them still. “What choice do we have?” he said. “In another few minutes he is going to die. Dragon is the only chance Gavin has.”

  Gypsy’s face was pale and drawn. She wiped her bloody face on her sleeve. Then she stood and snatched Missy up, dragging her away from Gavin’s body. Missy struggled to stay next to their father, but Gypsy held her close. “Calm down. Daddy is going to be fine. Dragon is going to change him so he can get better.”

  Missy stopped struggling and watched Dragon. Her blue eyes were bloodshot from all the crying.

  Desmond took a stiff step back. He swallowed but it didn’t do anything for the dryness in his throat. He honestly hoped this didn’t turn into a disaster. “Okay, do it.”

  Dragon moved forward and knelt next to Gavin.

  Desmond’s palms began to sweat. Sorcery was never something he was comfortable with. Fear gripped him tight as he remembered some of the horrors in Titan's garden. He wasn’t as much afraid of his father's death but more of him returning different. Different in a very bad way. What if this is wrong? Northe wasn't the same and Gavin is much more dangerous. Desmond didn't care what that nasty wizard Titan had said. That thing masquerading as his brother, that thing he had encountered a few years ago, may have looked like and had parts of his brother, but it wasn't Northe.

  Dragon rolled Gavin flat on his back. He placed Gavin’s arms across his chest and straightened out his legs. Then Dragon uttered a few words that Desmond recognized but couldn't translate. It was one of Titan’s spells and it was odd to listen to it spoken in a different voice.

  A bright white glow started in the middle of Gavin’s chest. It erupted from his wounds and spilled over him in all directions like an upturned bucket of paint. In less than a blink of an eye, Desmond's father had turned into a brilliant white marble statue.

  It took close to a minute before anyone dared breathe again. Finally Desmond broke the silence. “Now what do we do with him?”

  Dragon watched him with the detached menace of a common feline. His eyes seemed to glow with a ferocious power. “I suggest we put him in the cemetery for safe keeping.”

  Gypsy threw her hands up incredulously. “And how are we supposed to do that? Now that you've turned him to stone he probably weighs close to a thousand pounds.”

  Dragon studied her for a long cool minute. He seemed to be calculating things in his head. Desmond’s neck ached with tension. A nasty headache was threatening. Then Dragon made a motion with his right hand and the statue of Gavin rose several feet off the ground. “You can move him with my help.”

  Chapter 13

  “How much longer?” Gypsy called out to Desmond as he led them through the densely wooded hunting trails surrounding the city.

  These trails were owned by the crown, so neither permission nor tribute was needed to hunt here. She and Desmond were still in uniform so if they did run into any patrols they would most likely be ignored. That was unless Gavin was spotted with them. Then they would have real trouble.

  The air was stiflingly hot and damp. Decayed moss blanketed the ground except for the narrow paths where game frequented. What was normally a forty-five minute walk to the city center was taking hours by this route. Gavin’s stone body floated in front of them at eye level and almost seven feet long. It was followed closely by Dragon. The statue was surreal and perfect in every detail. Gypsy tried not to think of the panic they would elicit if they were spotted. They would be quite a sight with a giant statue levitating in front of them all. She tried to imagine what other soldiers or a group of peasants would think. It sure wouldn’t be a pretty confrontation.

  “As long as we don't run into anyone, we should be there within the hour,” Desmond said.

  Groaning, Gypsy trudged forward. She wasn’t worried about robbers. She'd just as soon kill them, but soldiers and hunters were another matter. They were doing their jobs and nothing more. They would have to be a bit more creative if they crossed paths with decent men. Not for the first time Gypsy wished they were mounted. But Dragon needed complete concentration and couldn’t ride while magically suspending her father in mid-air. Desmond had also argued that too many mounts would attract unwanted attention. So they all walked.

  With little else to occupy her other than the fate of her father, Gypsy studied her Uncle Dragon. From the scattered information she’d gotten over the years, she knew the last time he had been freed from Titan’s stone garden was just before her birth. Her mother had told Gypsy that it was Dragon who had first informed her mother she was carrying Gavin’s child. Most of the time, her parents didn’t speak of her Uncle Dragon because her father hated him for reasons Gypsy didn’t fully understand. Something had happened between her mother and Dragon to complicate her parents’ relationship, but what that thing was Gypsy couldn’t begin to guess.

  Not knowing her uncle very well, Gypsy found it harder and harder to share her father's hatred of the man. It made her feel guilty, as though she was somehow betraying Gavin, but Dragon was interesting. Oh sure, he didn’t speak much, but there was a peculiar wisdom to his words when he did. He spoke plainly, with no restraint or filter. She was starting to understand why her mother liked him so much.

  By the time they reached the cemetery, dusk was casting shadows on the landscape. All three moons were on the rise, so at least they would have some light if they got stuck out here after the suns set. The graveyard was a few acres of rolling hills that were littered with monuments, plaques, and in some spots large rocks with writing and symbols scratched into them.

  Drawing closer to the cemetery made Gypsy’s heart ache and her eyes sting, but she forced herself not to cry. After almost losing her parents and brother twice over, she couldn't shake the specter of it all. An icy, impenetrable numbness had settled into her head, barely allowing her to think straight. My father is dead. Well, maybe not dead, but practically dead...or whatever this is. All of her energy was put into placing one foot in front of the other. I have to believe everything will be alright. I have to make Missy believe it.

  Once they had crossed through the shaded gray stone columns of the cemetery gates, her brother dropped back to let Dragon take the lead. Poor Desmond looked almost as pale as Gavin’s statue, and was wound so tight small tremors kept shaking him ever so slightly. It would be a miracle if he didn't pass out mid-stride from the tension. More than anything she wanted some reassurance from him but knew he couldn’t give her any. He didn’t know what any of this meant any more than she did. All they knew was that they had made a choice and would have to live with where it led them. Gavin was either dead or still alive. They wouldn't know until Dragon tried to unfreeze him—if he was even willing or able to. Gavin and his brother didn't have a very good relationship. But Dragon would free Gavin for her mom, Gypsy was sure of that. Right now she missed her mother so much she wanted to scream. I should have backed Desmond up. I shouldn't have let her go see Megolyth alone.

  Just ahead of them was Missy, following close behind their uncle with grim purpose. The little girl had stopped crying once they had left the cells. Gypsy was thankful she wasn't prone to wild hysterics like a lot of little kids, because she certainly had cause. That would have been too much for Gypsy to deal with right now. She had promised Missy that Gavin would be alright and had to hold t
o that. If Missy even suspected her father was gone forever she would be inconsolable. Gypsy wasn't so sure she herself would be all that consolable either. So for now she would cling to the same faith as her little sister.

  Gypsy remembered in the past when her father had been declared dead only to have him resurface again. During that time, she didn't think anything would relieve her sorrow. Worse still was the sight of her mother’s pain. The memory was so raw and punishing it frightened her even all these years later. Shaking off those horrible emotions, she trudged forward, trying to stay close to Missy.

  Leading them all through the grassy mounds and grave markers was Dragon, out in front of him, floating a few feet off the ground, the serene effigy of Gavin. He looked regal as a marble statue, but there was a chilling finality to his state that was tearing Gypsy up inside. Every time she stole a look at the white stone her heart petrified and her breath caught in her chest.

  Dragon stopped in front of a large sandstone crypt. “We can leave him in here for the time being.”

  Gypsy spied large letters carved into the stone above the metal doors. The rails along the short steps had two tarnished copper handrails. She tried to read the name but they were so weathered she could only make out a few of the letters. This family's tomb looked like it hadn't been disturbed since the last interment. Usually there were glass jars and bone carvings in the likeness of the gods, food, coins, or burned incense, but not here. The family had entombed their dead and moved on.

  Desmond climbed the three steps, slipped his gloved fingers through the narrow gap between the two rusted doors and pulled. As he did so, his sleeve rode up showing his muscled bicep. Finally there was a loud creak and the sound of metal scraping against stone. When her brother stepped back, Gypsy could see the tomb had six vaults, three stacked on each side with a marble walkway between them. Dragon made a slight gesture with his hand and floated her father inside. He lowered him to the floor and the statue landed with a heavy thud.