“Christ, I didn't say I wanted to double-cross him,” the cur protested, an edge of fear in his voice as he belatedly realized the danger. “I merely wondered why we're not allowed to use such a powerful weapon when our enemies are quite literally at our doorstep.”
“And wondering if he is hiding a foretelling that speaks of our ultimate failure?”
“You said that, not me.”
The vampire's humorless laugh sliced through the air. “Perhaps you are not so stupid as I feared.”
That was still up in the air as far as Ariyal was concerned.
He understood caution, but the cur was right to question why he wasn't being allowed to use the services of such a potent weapon.
Could it be that the Dark Lord was indeed afraid of what the future might show?
Or did he simply refuse to allow his minions any power that he didn't give them directly?
“How long have you served the Dark Lord?” the cur abruptly demanded, perhaps needing reassurance that he hadn't made a colossal mistake in joining forces with the dark side.
“Several centuries.”
There was something in the vampire's silken tone. Something that echoed the grief that still gripped Ariyal's heart.
“A long time to wait for your rewards,” the cur muttered.
“Ah, but some rewards are worth waiting for.”
“I suppose.” The cur didn't sound entirely convinced. “What were you offered? Riches?”
The vampire made a sound of disgust. “What is money to an immortal?”
“It's pretty damned sweet if you ask me.”
“So young.”
“If it's not money then what?” the cur demanded. “Power?”
“We both know I have no need to barter for power.” There was enough of a bite in the air to reveal the vampire was offended by the question. “I have possessed rare abilities since I was a mere foundling. And I only gained in strength after traveling through the Veil.”
Ariyal's brows snapped together.
The Veil?
What the hell did that mean?
And what rare powers did he have?
Meeting Jaelyn's wide gaze, he wasn't reassured. She obviously understood what the vampire was talking about and wasn't happy.
Which meant that he wasn't happy.
“What's left after money and power?” the cur mocked.
“Love.”
There was an awkward silence before the cur at last managed a sharp laugh.
“Are you shitting me?”
“There is nothing more treasured by vampires than their mates,” the vampire informed the cur in frigid tones. “They would give their lives to protect them.”
“Yeah, but ...” The cur cleared his throat. “You want our master to give you a mate?”
“Don't be an idiot,” the vampire snapped. “I want him to return the mate I lost.”
“Ah.” Another awkward pause. “Just to be clear. When you say âlost' you mean ...”
“She was killed when our lair was attacked by a rival clan and their pet witch.” The sheer lack of emotion in the vampire's voice revealed the depth of his grief.
“Damn, I'm sorry.”
“As I watched her being burned on a stake our mighty prince came to me. He promised me in that moment that my mate would be returned to me if I pledged my loyalty to him.”
He felt Jaelyn's shiver as they shared a glance of compassion.
Before he'd taken a mate he would never have understood what could drive a man to make a deal with the devil.
Now it was all too easy to imagine.
Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't going to kill the vampire if given the chance.
“What was her name?” the cur asked.
“Dara.”
“Pretty.”
“Pretty.”
“She was exquisite,” the vampire corrected. “And she will be again.”
Ariyal sent Jaelyn a questioning gaze.
So far as he knew the Dark Lord could give the power to reanimate the dead as a zombie. Or call on spirits like the Sylvermysts.
But he'd never heard of bringing someone back from the dead and returning her to her former life.
Jaelyn gave a small shake of her head, revealing that she was equally confused.
“I don't mean to be a downer, but are you certain that the master can make good on his promise?” The cur readily voiced their suspicion.
Ariyal shook his head.
Right now he wasn't sure what was puzzling him more.
How a seemingly rational vampire could believe his mate was going to be returned from the dead. Or how a cur who couldn't open his mouth without sticking his foot into it managed to survive for so long.
The vampire hissed. “What are you implying?”
“Bringing back the dead ... I mean, it seems ... iffy.”
Ariyal swallowed a sudden shout of alarm as pain lashed over him, tearing at his skin and threatening to crush his bones into powder.
“Do you doubt my power, or my willingness to fulfill my pledge, Dolf ?” a soft female voice asked.
Ariyal didn't need to see the two men falling to their knees with their heads pressed to the ground at the approach of the Dark Lord.
It's what he would be doing if he weren't holding so tightly to Jaelyn.
“My prince,” the cur breathed, his voice ragged. As if he was bearing the brunt of the Dark Lord's displeasure.
“Hmm. Intriguing. It would seem as if I will need a new title.” The tinkling laugh was like shards of glass shooting through Ariyal. He clutched Jaelyn tighter, sensing her own distress. Just being near the Dark Lord was punishment. “What do you think, Dolf ?”
The cur whimpered. “Yes, my ... master.”
“We will discuss this later,” the Dark Lord assured the cur. “In private.”
“Yes, master. Thank you, master.”
Ariyal had to give the cur kudos for effort. He managed to say the right words. Unfortunately, he couldn't entirely hide his lack of enthusiasm for his private tête-à -tête with his master.
Lucky for him the monster of all monsters had other things on her mind.
“For now, I have a small task for you to perform.”
It was the vampire who answered. “What would you have us do?”
“Ah, my faithful Gaius.” There was a hint of mockery in that crushing voice. “So pure of heart.”
Gaius.
He met Jaelyn's gaze to see if she recognized the name.
She shook her head.
“I am yours to command,” the vampire readily offered.
“Yes, you are.” A new wave of pain rippled through the air, nearly bursting his inner organs. Holy hell. If they didn't get away, the damned Dark Lord was going to kill them without even trying. “You will search for the intruders who killed my precious Rafael.”
Jaelyn stiffened, but she was a trained Hunter. Thank the gods. The bone-chilling shadows that hid them from detection never wavered.
“The wizard is dead?” the cur demanded in shock.
“Yes, and I want those responsible sacrificed on my altar within the hour.” There was a muffled sound of agony from the two servants as the Dark Lord reminded them of the price of failure. “Understood?”
“At once,” Gaius choked out.
Jaelyn and Ariyal remained locked in each other's arms as the cur and vampire scurried away, followed more slowly by the Dark Lord.
Only when the last prickles of pain had faded did Ariyal take a breath and Jaelyn allow the shadows to dissipate.
“That was way too close,” Jaelyn muttered.
“No shit.”
“Let's get out of here.”
Chapter 23
Styx paced through the cavern that looked as if it had been through World War III.
Piles of rubble littered the floor, while huge cracks ran through the once-smooth walls and a choking cloud of dust continued to fill the air.
Not that he bothered to notice his surroundings.
His attention was firmly locked on the handful of Sylvermysts who knelt beside a slab of stone that was charred from the recent rip between dimensions.
When the evil fey had first charged out of the caves, Styx had commanded his Ravens to stand aside. As much pleasure as it might give him to drain a few of the rare creatures, he had given his word to Ariyal.
But astonishingly, the bedraggled fairies hadn't bolted for safety as he'd been expecting. Instead they had informed Styx that the mage was already in the caves, and that Ariyal and Jaelyn had been determined to rescue Tearloch as well as the babe.
They'd also insisted on returning to the caverns after the massive explosion had revealed something bad was happening below.
Styx had grudgingly given in to their demands, only because he was incapable of detecting magic.
There was every likelihood that he would need their talent.
And if they hoped to lead him into a trap ... well, there was still the option of draining them.
His decision turned out to be a sound one as they reached the lower cavern to discover it empty.
It had been Elwin who'd discovered the markings on the rock and had been able to sense that there had been a temporary opening through the barrier to another dimension.
He'd also offered the services of his men to try and reach through the barrier to return Ariyal and Jaelyn.
Not that they'd managed anything more than a shimmer in the air that led to precisely nowhere.
Pacing the floor, Styx's mood took a dip toward foul.
He didn't like feeling helpless.
Especially when the entire world was hanging in the balance.
At last he gestured toward the Sylvermyst with long amber hair and pewter eyes.
“Elwin.”
With a grimace of impatience the Sylvermyst rose to his feet and moved to stand in front of Styx.
“Yes?”
“How much longer?”
“It's impossible to say.” The fey gave a lift of his hands. “None of us have ever tried to use a portal to reach through dimensions.”
Styx scowled. “Can it be done?”
“We can only pray.”
Pray? That wasn't what Styx wanted to hear.
He was a vampire who expected results, not vague promises.
And he didn't give a damn whether or not he was being fair.
“Not good enough.”
The Sylvermyst clenched his hands, his eyes flashing with fury.
“No one wants to rescue our prince more than I do.”
Styx folded his arms over his massive chest. It was a gesture that he had discovered could make many demons piss their pants on the spot.
“You'll forgive me if I find that a little hard to believe,” he drawled. “You did, after all, choose to betray him.”
Clearly made of sterner stuff than most fairies, Elwin met Styx's condemning stare with a grim expression.
“We were fools to have been swayed by Tearloch's promises, but I intend to devote the rest of my life to earning Ariyal's forgiveness.”
“Or to taking his place.”
Elwin hissed at the low words. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Tell me, Elwin, who becomes prince if Ariyal doesn't return?” Styx asked, his gaze shifting to the Sylvermysts who remained kneeling beside the stone, their hands held toward the shimmer in the air as they chanted in low tones.
Elwin's anger tinted the air with a warm scent of herbs, but it was no match for the brutal chill of Styx's power.
“You son of a bitch,” the Sylvermyst muttered.
A low chuckle announced the arrival of Salvatore, who managed to look
GQ
ready in his black Armani suit and pale blue shirt with a yellow silk tie.
Styx shook his head.
How did the damned dog manage to remain pristine when climbing through the rubble? There wasn't so much as a speck of dirt on the handmade Italian leather shoes.
It was ... unnatural.
“Trouble in paradise?” the dog mocked.
Styx shrugged, biting back his sarcastic comment.
Behind Salvatore's taunting smile was a haunting memory of his near-death experience in the caves. He understood the toll it was taking on the Were to help in the search for the child, and of course, Jaelyn.
And while he might never admit his gratitude (it just wasn't done between natural enemies) it wouldn't be forgotten.
Instead he nodded toward the glowering Elwin.
“Just trying to make certain that the Sylvermysts are giving a hundred percent to the effort to reach Jaelyn.”
“Vampires,” Elwin cursed.
Salvatore raised his hands. “Hey, you have my full sympathy.”
The fey pointed a finger in Styx's face. “Don't interrupt our efforts again.”
With his warning delivered, Elwin turned on his heel and returned to kneel next to his brothers, completely indifferent to the fact that Styx could rip off his head with one hand.
“I miss the days when I could just kill those people who pissed me off,” Styx snarled.
“Being king is a bitch, isn't it?”
Never had truer words been spoken.
“What about you?” Styx turned his attention from the fey. Even if they were doing everything possible it was obvious their efforts weren't going to pay off anytime soon. He needed a plan B. “Any luck?”
“None.” The Were grimaced, his hand smoothing over the dark hair that was pulled into a tail at his nape. Styx hid a wry smile at the dog's vanity. “I spoke with the local coven and they denied knowing any spell that could open the barrier between dimensions.”
“I don't believe it,” he said bluntly. “The wizard obviously used magic to take the child through.”
Salvatore shrugged. “The wizard practiced dark magic.”
“Then we need a magic-user who practices the dark arts.”
“Easier said than done,” the Were confessed. “They tend to remain hidden in the shadows.”
Well, of course they did.
“Dammit.”
Salvatore regarded him with a questioning expression. “What about Laylah?”
Styx arched a brow. “What about her?”
“Jinn can travel between worlds.”
“She's a half Jinn,” he reminded his companion. “Which means she can only shadow walk.”
“Shadow walk?”
“She can enter the mists between dimensions.”
Not surprisingly Salvatore appeared confused by his reluctance to call for the half Jinn. But while it had been one of his first thoughts after discovering that Jaelyn and the child were missing, he'd quickly dismissed it.
“It would be a start,” Salvatore pointed out.
“I can't expose her to the Dark Lord,” he refused. “And more to the point, Tane would never allow her to take such a risk.”
The Were snorted. “And she actually listens to her mate? He's a lucky vampire.”
“No, Laylah has a mind of her own, but she has devoted years to protecting her child from the Dark Lord.” He shook his head. “She can't take the chance of being used to get to Maluhia.”
Salvatore gave a grudging nod of agreement at the mention of the child that had once been wrapped in the same stasis spell with the missing baby. The twins had been created by the Dark Lord centuries ago and hidden in the mists, only to be found by Laylah.
It was bad enough to have lost one child.
They couldn't risk the other.
“Then I guess we have to hope the Sylvermysts can reach them.”
Styx's fangs ached with the need to sink them into Elwin's throat, but he couldn't deny the truth of Salvatore's words.
A rock and a hard place.
Dammit.
“Yes.”
Resuming his pacing, Styx was futilely attempting to remind himself of the virtues of patience when he detected the familiar scent of his brother, along with a less familiar odor.
Mage.
With a new flare of hope, Styx turned to watch as Dante strolled into the cavern.
The younger vampire's resemblance to a pirate was emphasized by the dark hair that was left free to frame his lean, handsome face and the silver eyes that danced with humor. Oh, and the wiggling prisoner he had slung over his shoulder.
Crossing the cavern, the vampire tossed the mage on the floor at Styx's feet.
“Dante, so good of you to join us,” he murmured.
“And I come bearing gifts.”
“So I see.”
He lowered his gaze to watch Sergei struggle to a kneeling position.
His lip curled. The mage looked distinctly worse for the wear with his silver hair tangled and his suit covered in a thick layer of dust.
“The weasel was trying to hide beneath the rubble,” Dante revealed.
“Typical,” Styx said, his voice thick with disgust. “A coward to the bitter end, eh, mage?”
“I wasn't hiding,” the man ridiculously protested. “I was knocked unconscious after my battle with the wizard.”
“Yeah right,” Dante scoffed.
The mage sniffed, trying to gather the tattered remains of his pride.
“You can believe what you want.”
“I don't give a shit why you were cowering beneath the rocks,” Styx snapped, glaring down at the lean face that had lost a considerable amount of its arrogance. “All I want to know is how long it will take you to open the barrier.”
The mage blinked, as if Styx were speaking a foreign language.
“I can't.”
Salvatore shifted to stand at his side. “He's lying.”
The mage lifted pleading hands. “No, I'm telling you that I don't have the power.”
With one smooth movement Styx was reaching down to wrap his fingers around Sergei's throat and jerking him upright. Holding him so they were eye to eye, Styx ignored the mage's feet that dangled off the ground and even his struggle to breathe.
He wanted answers.
And he wanted them now.
“Everyone knows that you've been preparing to resurrect the Dark Lord for centuries,” he growled. “Obviously you have a spell that will reach through the barrier.”
Grasping Styx's wrist, Sergei turned an interesting shade of purple.
“I'll admit that I have prepared for the ceremony,” he gasped.
“Then do it.”
The pale eyes flared with annoyance. “First of all, I can't just âdo it.'”
Styx gave him a violent shake. “Mage.”
“Wait,” the man pleaded. “I need an altar and a sacrifice and ...”
“You're starting to piss me off,” Styx growled.
“Trust me, you don't want him pissed off, Sergei,” Salvatore informed the mage.
Sergei didn't seem to need the warning as he shivered in terror.
“I'm telling you the truth,” he pleaded. “Such a massive spell takes a lot of time and effort to perform.”
“Ah, he has performance anxiety,” Salvatore mocked.
“It's not that,” Sergei denied.
Styx gave him another shake. Just because he liked seeing the mage flop around like a bobblehead doll.
“Then what is it?” he demanded.
Sergei grimaced, clearly reluctant to admit the truth. “I'm not really sure that it will work.”
Styx's fingers tightened in frustration. Did the mage think he was stupid?
“Lying bastard.”
“No,” Sergei squeaked. “Please, you must listen to me.”
Styx allowed his grip to lessen enough that the idiot could explain.
“Speak quickly.”
“And as if your life depends on it,” Salvatore added, his eyes glowing with a dangerous golden light.
The King of Weres was always a threat. But if he actually turned wolfy he would devour the mage in one bite.