“When Marika approached me I was a hack mystic in the Russian Court,” Sergei admitted.
Styx narrowed his gaze. He'd already gotten the background information on Sergei when he threatened Tane and Laylah.
“This is quickly?”
“She promised me eternal life and power beyond my deepest fantasy if I would join with her.” He licked his dusty lips. “All I had to do was discover a spell that would resurrect the Dark Lord.”
“Marika wasn't an easy mark,” Styx said. He hadn't personally known the female vampire, but from all he'd heard she had been as cunning as she was ambitious. “She would never have taken your word that you could satisfy her needs.”
“No, I swiftly found a spell that should work.” Sergei grimaced. “At least in theory.”
Styx ground his teeth. He already knew he wasn't going to like what the bastard had to say.
“But?”
“But I don't know if I have the necessary power to complete it,” the mage confessed in a rush.
Styx fleetingly considered the pleasure of simply throttling the worthless ass and leaving him for the worms. Then sanity thankfully returned and he leashed his more primitive urges.
With enough force to make the mage grunt in pain, Styx returned him to his feet and released his hold on his neck.
For now the mage was their best shot at opening a rift in the dimensions.
God help them all.
“We're about to find out,” he informed the mage.
Sergei shook his head, his fingers messaging his bruised neck.
“I told you, even if I wanted to do the ceremony I need an altar, as well as a sacrifice, not to mention days to prepare myself,” he complained. “It's a very complicated and dangerous spell.”
Styx gestured toward the silent vampire standing behind the mage.
“Dante?”
Dante grinned. “With pleasure.”
Sergei scowled as he watched the younger vampire move to lift the massive slab of rock from the center of the cavern and shift it directly before him.
“What are you doing?”
“Here's your altar,” Dante said with an evil smile.
“I can't use that.”
“Make do,” Styx growled.
“But ...”
The mage forgot what he was about to say as Dante grabbed him and, using a dagger, sliced a gaping wound into his inner forearm.
Sergei screamed in pain as Dante yanked him forward, holding his arm over the stone so the flow of blood fell on the flat surface.
“And here's your sacrifice,” Dante announced.
“Are you insane?” Sergei shrilly demanded, futilely attempting to break free of Dante's grip. “I'm going to bleed to death.”
Styx shrugged. “Then I suggest that you work quickly.”
“I can't.”
Styx had his sword out of its scabbard and pointed at the mage's throat in one graceful motion.
“You have until the count of ten.”
The mage made one last attempt to avoid his inevitable fate.
“No. please.”
“One. Two. Three ...”
Chapter 24
Jaelyn decided she hated white.
And fog.
And the constantly shifting landscape that made it impossible to know if they were traveling in circles.
At the point of concentrating on simply putting one foot in front of the other, Jaelyn nearly moaned in relief when she felt Ariyal slide an arm around her waist, tugging her to a halt.
“Stop, poppet,” he commanded softly. “You're about to collapse.”
She didn't try to argue.
Not only could Ariyal tangibly feel her weariness, but she was beyond trying to put on a brave face.
They were lost, alone, with no way of escaping the mists.
Turning, she pressed herself against Ariyal's welcome warmth, laying her head over the steady beat of his heart.
“We failed.”
His hands ran a comforting path down the curve of her spine.
“Not yet.”
She made a sound of resignation at his determined optimism. “In case you missed the memo, the Dark Lord has already used the child to resurrect himself. Or herself.”
“Yes, but he ... I mean she, isn't at her full strength.”
Jaelyn shuddered. Considering the power of the Dark Lord was one thing. Actually being close enough to feel the grinding pain was another.
“God help us when she is.”
“I don't think we can count on any celestial help.” Ariyal's arms tightened around her. “We're on our own.”
Jaelyn stilled, concentrating on her bond with Ariyal.
She could sense his stark fear for her safety, his regret that he hadn't found a way to escape from the fog, and a growing determination that made her heart twist with dread.
Tilting back her head, she made no effort to hide her suspicious frown.
“Ariyal, what are you scheming?”
He lifted one shoulder. “This is the last chance to stop the Dark Lord from entering our dimension.”
She should have been prepared for the blunt confession.
Hadn't Ariyal been trying to halt the Dark Lord's return from the moment they'd crossed paths?
He had been willing to sacrifice everything, including his own life, to protect his people from the fury of their former master.
Nothing had changed except the fact they were now mated.
“And you want to play hero?” she snapped, infuriated by the thought of him putting himself in danger.
He gave a slow shake of his head, his expression somber. “It's not a matter of what I want.”
She grimaced.
It wasn't, of course.
They might not have asked to be put into the position of being the last thing standing between the Dark Lord and the world, but fate had chosen for them.
Now there was nothing left to do, but try and do their best.
“I know. I just ...”
“What?”
She returned her head to his chest, savoring the scent of herbs.
“Wish that things could have been different.”
He gave a light tug on her ponytail. “The future isn't written yet.”
“True.” Her lips twisted in a humorless smile. “Of course, if we do survive I want your promise that this is the very last time we have to save the world.”
She felt his muscles clench at her teasing words. “Jaelyn.”
Already sensing his protest, Jaelyn abruptly shoved her way out of his embrace, her chin jutted to a stubborn angle.
This was one argument he wasn't going to win.
Not ever.
“Don't even go there,” she warned.
He held up his hands, no doubt shifting through his mind for the best way to pacify the little woman and keep her out of danger.
“I need you to find a way out of here.” He at last hit on inspiration. “There's no point in defeating the Dark Lord if we're stuck here.”
She planted her fists on her hips. “What you need and what you get are obviously two different things, Sylvermyst.”
The gazes clashed as the heat of his frustration brushed over her with a physical force.
“Does it have to be a fight every time?”
“I'm not the one who is fighting.”
“Jaelyn.”
Whatever he was about to say was lost as Ariyal went rigid in shock, his attention turning to a point just beyond her shoulder.
She spun around, not sure what to expect.
Vampires, magical curs, resurrected Dark Lords.
What she found was more of the damned fog.
“Do you sense something coming?” she whispered softly.
He frowned. “Didn't you feel that?”
“Feel what?”
He took a minute to answer. “Magic.”
Okay, that was nice and vague.
“The Dark Lord?”
“ No.”
“The cur?”
“ No.”
She threw her hands up in defeat. It was annoying as hell she couldn't feel whatever magic was in the air.
It was like stumbling around blind.
“We're running out of options,” she muttered, then gave a shiver as she considered the various possibilities. “Or at least I hope we are. I don't want to think about what else might be lurking in the fog.”
He moved past her, holding out his hand as if searching for a precise point.
“It's coming from the other side.”
The other side?
She frowned. It seemed remarkably convenient that he would sense the magic just when he was losing their argument.
“You're just saying that to try and distract me,” she accused.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Jaelyn, you would know if I was lying to you, wouldn't you?”
Oh. He had a point.
She certainly didn't sense any deceit. In fact, there was a growing sense of relief that was flooding through their bond.
“That doesn't necessarily mean good news,” she warned, not wanting him to get his hopes up too high. Prepare for the worst, and expect the worst. That was her motto. And it had stood her in good stead over the past decades. “There are thousands of the Dark Lord's minions,” she reminded him. “It could be one of them trying to break through.”
“I don't care who it is,” he retorted. “Anything or anyone that can get you out of here is good news.”
Muttering at the stubborn stupidity of Sylvermysts, Jaelyn circled to stand directly in front of him.
“There's no âyou.' It's âus,'” she informed him, stabbing her finger into the center of his chest. “We'll go through any opening together or neither of us will go.”
“Poppet.”
“Don't poppet me,” she interrupted, her voice revealing she wasn't going to tolerate any excuses. “We'll go through and prepare for the Dark Lord. If we can unite the vampires and Sylvermysts, not to mention the Weres, there's no way he can defeat us. We'll at least have a better shot than trying to do it on our own.”
His lips parted to argue, only to snap shut as he realized the sense of her words.
“You do have a point,” he reluctantly conceded.
“Thank you,” she said dryly.
She didn't have any time to congratulate herself on her small victory. Or even to feel relief that they might actually escape the nerve-racking fog.
Not when a vicious pain sliced through the air, along with a female voice that made Jaelyn's skin crawl.
“Jaelyn.”
She sent Ariyal a resigned glance. Whoever might be trying to enter the mists was too late.
“Shit,” she muttered.
He brushed his fingers over her cheek, his gaze skimming over her upturned face with an aching regret.
“It looks like the decision has been made for us.”
“Looks like.” She palmed her shotgun, pulling it free of the holster. “Do you have any suggestions?”
Holding out his arm, Ariyal called for his bow and arrow, his gaze searching the mists. A good warrior wasn't so distracted by the lion that he failed to notice the cobra hiding in the grass.
“She's not yet at her full strength, which means there's the potential that her body can be injured.”
She swiftly followed his logic. “So if we can destroy it ...”
“Then the Dark Lord will be back to where he started,” he completed. “Unable to enter our world.” He grimaced. “Or at least that's the hope.”
Hope.
She might have laughed if the Dark Lord hadn't chosen that moment to part the mists and appear in front of them.
Jaelyn shuddered, struck by the horrifying irony of such evil being hidden inside a young female who might have been the poster child of innocence.
It was just ... wrong.
“Sweet Jaelyn, why do you run from me?” the creature taunted, a whimsical smile making her dimples dance. Then, as if caught by surprise, the Dark Lord widened her china-blue eyes. “Oh look, a Sylvermyst.” She released a giggle that battered against Jaelyn like shards of glass. “Yummy.”
The fear that threatened to crush her was abruptly pierced by a savage fury as the female drifted toward Ariyal.
“And mine,” she gritted, pulling the trigger of the shotgun.
The Dark Lord brushed aside the pellets with a wave of her hand, but it at least had distracted her from Ariyal.
“Surely you don't mind sharing?”
“As a matter of fact I do.”
With a blur of motion Jaelyn had her shotgun reloaded and was firing.
Again the Dark Lord brushed aside the projectiles, stepping toward Jaelyn with a smile of anticipation.
She was enjoying Jaelyn's fury. Perhaps even feeding off of it.
“But he's been such a bad, bad boy. He should never have tried to hide from me.” The creature shook her head. “And to leave me for Morgana le Fey? He hurt my feelings.”
“Somehow I doubt you have any feelings to hurt,” Jaelyn muttered.
“Perhaps not. But I do get hungry. And Sylvermysts are so tasty good,” she taunted, licking her lips.
Jaelyn lifted her gun, as if preparing to shoot; then hoping to catch her opponent by surprise, she leapt forward to slash her claws through the female's throat.
“Drop dead,” she hissed, darting backward.
Briefly baffled, the girl lifted a hand to her neck, pulling it back to study the blood on her fingers.
“Now look what you've done.”
“I intend to do far worse,” Jaelyn warned, flashing her fangs.
She didn't actually think she could defeat the creature, but she had to admit she was shocked that she managed to draw blood.
Maybe Ariyal was right.
Until she'd gained her full strength her body was vulnerable to injury.
Clearly pissed off, the Dark Lord allowed the air to thicken with an excruciating heat, as if they were surrounded by the fiery pits of hell.
Jaelyn groaned in agony, afraid her bones might actually melt.
“How dare you strike me?” The sweet voice sent a thousand pinpricks of pain into Jaelyn's brain. “I am your master. You will bow before me.”
Jaelyn was willing to bow if it would stop the unseen flames that were searing through her.
Hell, she'd crawl on her knees and kiss the creature's feet. Before she was reduced to begging, however, Ariyal lifted his bow and with a blinding flurry he filled the girl's back with a dozen arrows.
The blue eyes widened as the creature stumbled forward, and Jaelyn groaned in relief as the heat was gone as swiftly as it arrived. Obviously the Dark Lord hadn't truly considered the idea that she might not be as immortal as she thought.
At least not yet.
With a frustrated curse she turned to concentrate her powers on Ariyal, her hand lifting to send the Sylvermyst flying through the air.
Jaelyn grimly ignored the audible crunch of broken bones and Ariyal's muffled shout of pain. She had to concentrate on the Dark Lord if she was to help her mate.
Not giving herself time to consider the wisdom of a direct attack, Jaelyn launched herself forward, wrapping her arms around the girl's shoulder and sinking her teeth into the side of her throat.
The blood hit her tongue like a punch, burning a path down her throat and making her stomach cramp in misery. Still she held on tight, fiercely draining the blood as the female clawed at her arm and face.