Pathetic.
“What does that mean?” she demanded.
“It's your power and your beauty and your stubborn independence that make you who you are,” he said, as if the words were being yanked from him. “I would never change that. Not ever.”
His words touched the vulnerable place deep inside her, but Jaelyn fiercely refused to be distracted.
In this moment all that mattered was that she keep Ariyal from walking into such an obvious trap.
“Then is this because you don't trust me with the child?” she accused.
His jaw clenched so tight she could hear his teeth grinding together.
“No, it damn well has nothing to do with trust.”
“Then what?”
“Because if you are hurt or worse ...” He struggled against a fierce tide of emotion. “I'm not sure I will survive.”
Stunned by his raw confession she lifted her hands to frame his face.
“Ariyal ...”
She didn't know what she was going to say. Nothing that would have improved the god-awful situation. And Ariyal thankfully didn't give her time to flounder in her helpless yearning.
“So don't expect me to be happy when you put yourself in danger.”
She held his smoldering gaze with a wistful smile. “I don't expect you to be happy, but I need you to understand why I can't deny my true nature as Hunter. I'll never be the sort of female to wait in the corner for her man to return.”
“Dammit.” With a shake of his head he conceded defeat. “Let's go.”
“Ariyal ...”
With a foul curse he was jerking away from her touch and running north at a speed that made sure there would be no opportunity for further conversation.
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They arrived at the abandoned church with less than an hour left until dawn.
Ariyal ruthlessly ignored the whispers of panic that Jaelyn needed to be tucked in a nice, sun-proof crypt. She'd made it brutally clear that she didn't want or need his concern, hadn't she?
After all, she was the big, bad Hunter. And he was just the poor slob who happened to be her current job.
If not for her mysterious contract with the Oracles she would be long gone.
He kept the warning in the front of his mind as he halted at the entrance to the cavern and once again described the exact route through the tunnels to where the baby was being kept.
Thanks to the efforts of his friendly ghost he possessed a complete map of the sprawling caverns burned into his brain. As well as the members of Tearloch's motley crew.
And while he wasn't willing to assume that no one had noticed his approach, they would be expecting a Sylvermyst to try and make a grab for the child. There was no way they could prepare for a vampire who could make herself practically invisible.
With the least amount of luck Jaelyn should be able to slip in and out before anyone realized the baby was missing.
His pretense of aloof indifference briefly faltered as he felt the prickles of ice filling the air. She was preparing to call on her powers.
“Jaelyn,” he said in urgent tones, reaching to grasp her forearm. “Wait.”
“I got it.” Her smile was rueful. “Be careful. Get in and get out. Don't stop for anything or anyone. I am trained, you know.”
He heaved a frustrated sigh. “I don't like this.”
“And you think I do?” Her eyes narrowed. “There's no need for a distraction.”
Ariyal shrugged. He'd waited until they had reached the caverns before he announced his intention to enter the tunnels. He claimed he wanted to create a distraction to make sure no one noticed the missing child until she was clear. It was true enough. He would make one hell of a distraction.
But he had his own agenda. One he didn't intend to share with Jaelyn.
“We'll only have one opportunity to grab the child,” he said with undeniable logic. “I intend to give us the best possible chance.”
She held his gaze. “And you swear you aren't going to try and go after Tearloch?”
He held up a hand. “I swear.”
“Fine.” A dangerous warning glittered in the indigo eyes. “But if something happens to you ...”
His hand skimmed up her arm, craving the feel of the cool silk of her skin.
It didn't matter how furious he might be; if he didn't make it out of the caves then he wanted his last thought to be of this female.
“What?” he prompted.
“I'm going to be pissed.”
Her warning delivered, Jaelyn spoke a low word and the chill in the air became a frigid blast of ice. At the same moment her slender frame simply seemed to disappear, no doubt already headed through the caves.
“So romantic,” he muttered, reaching out his hand to clench and then spread his fingers.
There was a stir of air before a smooth ash bow abruptly appeared.
Not as good as Jaelyn's stealth act, but it would have to do, he wryly acknowledged, grasping the smooth wood in a loose grip as he silently slid into the entrance of the cavern.
He paused a moment to examine his surroundings.
There was no sense of Jaelyn, of course, but with an effort he could catch the scent of his fellow tribesmen despite the wizard's dampening spell.
It was impossible to make out individual scents, but he had what he needed.
Moving as swiftly as he dared considering he was surrounded by enemies, Ariyal headed deep into the earth, barely noticing the too-smooth surface of the tunnels or the growing stench of evil that tainted the musty air.
He had only a few minutes to accomplish what he'd come to do and try to make a clean getaway.
In and out.
No problem.
He chanted the words beneath his breath as he used the images the ghost had shared to find his way through the confusion of passageways and abandoned caverns. The scent of Sylvermyst thickened, but instead of following the rich aroma of herbs, he darted into a narrow cave directly above them.
The ghost had been commendably thorough in his investigation of the caverns. Which was why Ariyal knew that half a dozen Sylvermyst were frantically working to clear a tunnel.
The question he wanted answered was ... why?
Tearloch might have tumbled into madness, but the wizard remained coldly cunning. He wouldn't waste that sort of man power unless it was essential to returning the Dark Lord.
Which meant that Ariyal needed to halt whatever they were doing just in case Jaelyn failed.
He crushed the surge of fear that threatened to distract him, kneeling on the floor next to the large crack that ran the length of the cave. Whatever had destroyed the tunnel beneath him had left this floor split nearly in two. A wrong step and it would collapse.
As he hoped, he could easily hear the sound of his tribesmen as they struggled to remove the rocks that blocked their path.
For several excruciating minutes there was nothing but the sound of stone scraping against stone. He wasn't concerned about the fact his presence was already seeping through the passageways. He wanted to attract attention so they didn't realize the baby was missing. But he wasn't any closer to discovering why his tribesmen were burrowing through the rubble.
Then, as if some kindly deity had decided to have mercy on his black soul, the sound of voices at last drifted through the air.
“Why aren't you working?” a male voice roughly demanded.
“I'm a soldier not a damned mole,” another male responded, his tone edged with disgust. “If the wizard wants to clear out the tunnel then why doesn't he do it himself ?”
Ariyal easily recognized the two Sylvermyst as Elwin and Toras. Not surprising. Both had lost their females to Morgana's jealousy. They had never hidden their bitterness, or the fact they held Ariyal to blame for the death of their mates.
“Keep your voice down,” Elwin rasped.
“Or what?”
Ariyal could sense the man's shudder. “I don't think either of us wants to find out.”
Toras gave a growl of frustration. “When Tearloch promised the return of the Dark Lord he didn't mention the fact we would have to dig out an altar that was buried beneath a ton of rocks. Or that we'd have to take our orders from a specter who should have been left to rot in hell.”
Ariyal's lips twisted.
There was a mutiny brewing.
Did Tearloch know how close he was to losing his few tribesmen?
“The sooner we uncover the altar the sooner the wizard can complete the resurrection and the sooner he can be banished,” Elwin muttered.
“Always assuming that Tearloch hasn't lost complete control,” Toras pointed out with a bleak resignation.
“Shit. Just get back to work.”
The voices faded and Ariyal sat back on his heels.
Altar?
It made sense.
Those who worshiped the Dark Lord often used altars to make their sacrifices. The blood was a conduit that allowed them to thin the walls that separated them from their evil master.
Obviously Rafael needed his altar to complete the ceremony.
That was all the information Ariyal needed.
Tossing aside his bow, he shoved his fingers into the crack. The rock scraped off his skin, but he ignored the blood that threatened to make his grip slippery and yanked with all his strength.
He wasn't a troll who could tunnel through rock with his brute strength, but the floor was already unstable and the exact pressure in the weakest spot was enough to make the stone buckle beneath his feet.
Snatching up his bow, Ariyal darted toward the outer tunnel, leaping across the gaping chasm that abruptly appeared as the collapse picked up speed at an alarming rate. Bloody hell. He had expected a minor cave-in, not a landslide.
He sent up a brief prayer that his brothers would manage to find safety. Whatever their sins, he hoped that they could eventually put the past behind them and be reunited as a tribe. There were too few of them to allow petty resentments to separate them.
Then all thoughts of his brothers were forgotten as he at last reached solid ground and sought a passageway that would lead him up and out of the caverns.
Following the faint scent of fresh air, he was desperate to leave behind the choking cloud of dust that billowed through the tunnels. Obviously too desperate, since he was unprepared when Tearloch abruptly darted from a side tunnel to block his path.
“Tearloch,” he growled, skidding to a reluctant halt at the sight of his tribesman.
Good ... gods.
The younger Sylvermyst looked like shit.
His hair was tangled and hung limply down his back, his skin was a strange, grayish hue, and there were bruises beneath his eyes that revealed he hadn't slept in far too long.
Obviously the effort to keep control of Rafael was taking its toll on him.
Or was it the damned spirit draining Tearloch's power?
Either way, it was a dangerous situation that might very well kill the Sylvermyst if something wasn't done.
Soon.
A pity he wasn't about to let Ariyal help him.
Not if the hectic glow in the silver of his eyes and the big-ass sword he was currently pointing at Ariyal's heart were any indication.
“I should have suspected that you would manage to cause trouble no matter how clever our plans,” Tearloch growled.
Ariyal forced a stiff smile to his lips. He had wanted to be a distraction, hadn't he?
It looked as if he was roaring success.
Yippee ki yay.
“You know me, I can't resist crashing a party.” He glanced down at the dust covering him from head to toe. “Sometimes literally.”
Tearloch's jaw locked even as he tried to look as if he was indifferent to the considerable damage.
“It's annoying, but nothing that can't be repaired.”
Ariyal smiled. “In time.”
The silver eyes narrowed. “So you sacrificed yourself just to delay the inevitable?”
“But it isn't inevitable, Tearloch.” Ariyal held his companion's gaze. “Your mind has been twisted by those who only want to use you for their own glory.”
“No.” Tearloch shook his head with more force than necessary. “It's your mind that has been twisted. That vampire has seduced you and stolen you from those who have always offered you their loyalty.”