What if every magical creature you'd ever heard of was real, driven into hiding by an army of violent zealots? This is reality for Sarah Heisen and Porter Collins. Sarah is a sphinx living a life of luxury in her family's mansion. Hidden from all da...
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Chapter Forty Two
Azkular was in Red Castle. Porter didn't even have to think about it to make up his mind. He'd abandoned the djinn once already, but he wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.
Hurrying back through the castle as quickly as he could without making any noise, he caught sight of the two Slayers again. He followed, making sure to keep at least ten feet behind them, and waited. His chance finally came when they came to another fork in the hallway.
"I'll check this way, you go that way," the first one said. The second Slayer nodded, and they split up. Porter elected to go after the one heading right.
Carefully, he cautioned himself as he sneaked up behind him. There was a door open on their left. Now!
Before the Slayer could react, Porter lunged forward grabbing him around the throat from behind. With one arm he put the older man in a headlock, and with the other he covered his mouth. The Slayer tried to yell in surprise, but it only came out as a grunt through Porter's hand. Porter turned and shoved him into a nearby room, kicking the door shut behind them.
"Where are they keeping the djinn?" he demanded in as threatening a voice as he could muster. He released the Slayer and threw him to the floor so he could answer.
"Who are—" the Slayer demanded, but the words died in his mouth when he rolled over to look.
Uh oh, Porter thought, and looked down at himself, confirming his fears. The potion was beginning to wear off, leaving his body and clothes transparent but still clearly visible, like a ghost.
"Where's the djinn?" he demanded again, and gave the Slayer a kick in the stomach to help him focus. He felt a little bad for striking an opponent on the floor, but he didn't have time to worry about fair fighting.
The Slayer recoiled from the attack, and pressed himself up against the wall. "In- in Reaper's Wait!" he said, pointing back out the door. "It's that way, down the stairs!"
Huh, Porter thought, looking down at the sniveling coward. That was easier than I thought. I guess that explains why he stayed inside when everyone else went out.
Speaking of which, he realized every minute he wasted in the castle was one more minute the Ragga elves had to stay in danger. Porter balled his fist.
"Oh no, please don't—" the Slayer begged. Porter ignored him, and punched him on the side of the head. The Slayer slumped to the floor, unconscious.
Porter didn't bother sneaking when he ran back into the hallway. Now that he was becoming visible again, his best course of action was to get in and out as quickly as possible. If anyone got in his way, they'd just end up like the Slayer he'd left behind.
The way to the prison was right where the Slayer told him it would be. After rounding the corner, Porter came to a spiral staircase set in a dark corner of the corridor. He came to the first step, ready to go charging down, but the overpowering scent of damp and mold made him pause. There was a layer of dust thick enough to leave prints in on every surface of the stairway, from the floor to the walls, as if this was one part of the castle that the Slayers liked to pretend didn't exist. Porter didn't blame them. There was something there, something besides the smell and the shadows, that seemed to moan, stay away.
