Embrace the Darkness (24 page)

Viper decided that the black limo could hardly compare to his own.

Although suitably large and boasting soft leather seats, it offered few other luxuries. No soothing music, no plasma TV, no champagne cooling on ice.

Of course, he had to concede, his own limo didn't have any silver shackles hanging from the ceiling that could conveniently hold even the most furious vampire captive. An oversight he would have corrected if he ever managed to get out of this damnable mess.

Ignoring the silver that burned into his wrists, he gave another futile tug on the chains that bound him. Anything was better than brooding on the traitor who sat on the seat opposite him, or worse, the knowledge that Shay was out there alone.

With a click of his tongue, Styx pulled off his cape to reveal the black leather pants and thick sweater that covered his large form.

“Your struggles are futile and will only hurt you, Viper,” he said.

Lowering his gaze Viper glared at the man who had once stood at his side. Whatever their friendship in the past he would never forgive Styx for this.

And never was a very long time for immortals.

“You think I will go to my death without some struggle, no matter how futile?” he demanded.

The cold features never altered. “I am trying very hard to ensure that you do not face death.”

“Not face death?” Viper gave a humorless laugh, as furious with himself as the man across from him. Devil's balls, but he had been an idiot. “I've been chased across Chicago by dark wizards, hellhounds, and now trolls.”

“Merely distractions.”

“And the Lu?” Viper demanded. “I assure you he was more than a mere distraction. He damn well nearly took off my head.”

Astonishingly, something that might have been unease rippled over the bronzed features. It wasn't much but it was enough to give Viper a faint hope that the man possessed some regret.

“That was…not of my doing.”

“Your master?” Viper carefully probed.

“You know better than to ask,” Styx chided, his arms folded over his chest. “Tell me of the Shalott.”

Viper gritted his teeth. “She is about five foot seven, one hundred and twenty pounds, which is shocking considering she eats like a horse…”

Styx gave an impatient hiss. “Now is not the time for levity, Viper. If I am to save you, I must have your cooperation.”

Viper wanted to tell him what he could do with his cooperation. He would put a stake in his own heart before he would help them harm Shay.

Thankfully, he came to his senses enough to realize that for the moment he was helpless to attempt an escape. Perhaps if he could encourage Styx to talk he might reveal something of what lay ahead.

“And what does this cooperation involve?”

“For the moment I wish to know of your relationship with the demon.”

Viper met his gaze squarely. “She is my slave.”

“More than that, I think. You have risked your life over and over to save her. Why?”

“You know why.”

The dark eyes studied him for a long moment. “You have feelings for her?”

Viper shrugged. It wouldn't help to try and deny his feelings for Shay. They were obvious enough for even a simpleton to notice.

“Yes.”

“A dangerous luxury for a vampire,” Styx murmured, the dark shadows playing over his face. “And even more dangerous for a clan chief.”

Viper gave an unconscious yank on the chains. “What is your interest in my relationship with Shay?”

Styx was silent so long that Viper feared he might refuse to answer. Then slowly leaning forward the elder vampire stabbed him with a fierce gaze.

“It would be best if you cut your connections to the demon and walk away. Give me the power over the amulet that binds her to you, and I will halt the car and not trouble you again.”

Viper was wise enough not to laugh at the ridiculous suggestion.

“And if I don't?”

“Eventually you will be convinced to do as you're told, and I very much fear that you will not enjoy the process.”

Viper narrowed his eyes. “Torture has been forbidden, even for the Anasso,” he said, referring to the leader of all vampires. The master that Styx and the Ravens served as personal guards.

“Necessity at times demands unpleasant sacrifices.”

“Me being the sacrifice?” Viper demanded.

“I very much hope not.”

Viper gave a slow shake of his head. “This is not like you, Styx. For all of your battles you have always held your honor most dear.”

With a smooth motion Styx was leaning back in his seat, but Viper didn't miss the small flinch at his sharp accusation.

“And my duty even more dear,” he retorted, his voice carefully bland. As if he feared revealing more than he desired.

Viper studied the features that had once been so familiar to him. He had not aged, of course. In fact his features were precisely the same as they had been centuries ago. But there was no mistaking the hint of tension that tightened his body. Or the bleak somberness that dulled his eyes. As if the years had stolen something precious from him.

“Duty to the Anasso?”

“Duty to all vampires. Our very existence depends upon this.”

Viper gave a lift of his brows. “You're being very melodramatic for a vampire who has chosen the existence of a monk. What could possibly be so dire?”

“Can you not simply trust me?”

“No.”

Styx lifted a slender hand to touch the small medallion that hung about his neck. It was an ancient Aztec symbol that he was never without.

“You are making this far more difficult than it need be.”

Viper made a rude noise. “I have hardly been the one making this difficult, Styx. I was perfectly content to remain peacefully in my lair with Shay, not bothering a soul. You were the one to drag me into this mess.”

The coldness deepened around Styx. “The Anasso has spoken. That is all that matters.”

The hell it did.

Viper stirred impatiently on the seat, biting back a curse as the silver dug into his flesh. The pain was reaching a level where it was nearly impossible to ignore.

“Did you capture the troll who holds Shay's curse?”

“No, he has managed to elude us.”

Viper frowned. Styx might evade or simply refuse to answer a question, but he wouldn't lie. So where the hell was Evor?

Devil's balls.

Viper struggled to make sense of the past few days. All he knew was that it had been the Anasso who had been determined to get his hands on Shay from the beginning. Which was worth a whole lot of nothing.

“What do you want of Shay? Is it her blood?”

Styx turned to gaze out the window. “Her blood is life.”

A cold chill clutched at Viper. “Life? Life for who?”

“Enough, Viper.” At last Styx turned back, his expression grim. “I have said all that I intend to.”

There was no mistaking the finality in his tone and Viper bit back his frustration. At the moment he was in no position to make demands or enforce his will.

He had every confidence that would change. And when it did…well, he would have his pound of flesh. Quite literally.

Forced to change his tactics he turned his attention to the brief flare of weakness he had noticed earlier.

“I never did understand why you would pledge yourself to the Anasso,” he said in offhand tones, as if he were merely passing the time. “You were always so fiercely independent.”

Styx gave a shrug. “I discovered as the years and then centuries passed that I needed more than a mere existence to satisfy me.”

“It was hardly a mere existence,” Viper pointed out. “Not only were you a feared warrior but you were once the chief of the largest clan of vampires ever gathered. A feat envied by many.”

The dark eyes abruptly flashed with anger.

Ridiculously, Viper discovered himself pleased by the rare display of emotion. It proved that something of the Styx he had known and loved still existed.

“Oh, yes, envied so much that every fool with dreams of glory arrived upon my doorstep to lay down a challenge,” he said with an edge of bitterness. “There was rarely a year that passed that I was not forced into battle.”

“The cost of leadership,” Viper retorted. “It was never meant to be easy.”

“I do not mind a difficult path; indeed, I welcome it. But I no longer desire a bloody one. I grew weary of killing brethren.”

Viper felt a grudging flare of sympathy. He better than anyone understood the regret of having blood on his hands. A helluva lot of blood. Still, Styx had once been an outsider like himself. A vampire without clan and open prey until he had grown strong enough to defend himself. How could he put himself back at the mercy of another?

“As do I. But that still does not explain why you have chosen to bind yourself to another.”

“We all serve the Anasso. He is the master of all.”

Viper gave a shake of his head. “Not as his personal guard. You have sold your soul.”

“No.” The word was barely a whisper. “I am attempting to reclaim it.”

“Your soul?” Viper demanded with a frown.

“Call it what you will.” Styx gave an impatient wave of his hand. “A meaning to life. A sense of purpose.”

Viper regarded his friend for a long moment. The last thing he had expected was a debate on philosophy while he was being held prisoner. Of course, it shouldn't have been. This was Styx, after all.

“You sound remarkably human,” he at last drawled. “Aren't they the ones always scrambling to discover a fate beyond themselves?”

“Are they wrong?” Styx countered. “Should we not all strive to create a legacy that will enrich our brethren?”

Viper gave a pointed glance toward the silver shackles that were burning ever deeper into his flesh.

“And you believe that is what you are doing? Enriching our brethren?”

The older vampire possessed the decency to grimace although his voice remained smooth.

“You seem to forget that it was the Anasso who led the battle to civilize our clans. It was his strength that allowed us to defeat those who wished to maintain the ancient ways. And his presence that keeps anarchy from returning. I would think you, Viper, of all people, would hold that a worthy goal.”

Viper hadn't forgotten the past. Or the brutal, bloody battles that had been waged. Or even the fact that it had been the Anasso who had led the charge. No doubt without his efforts they would still be living as savages. He had also not forgotten that those wars had killed those ancients who had stood above the Anasso, leaving him the eldest and the most powerful of all.

“And so the end justifies any means, eh Styx?”

“Do you mock me, Viper?”

A wry smile touched Viper's lips. “No, in fact I understand. I have found satisfaction as a chief, but as you say, there is more to life than power. It is only now that I have found the purpose in my life that you seek.”

Styx regarded him curiously. “And what is that?”

“Shay,” he retorted simply. “And no matter what your dire predictions I will do whatever I must to keep her safe.” He leaned forward to bare his fangs. “I will condemn the entire race of vampires to hell if I have to.”

Styx clenched his hand around the tiny medallion. “You had better hope you come to your senses and call for the Shalott, Viper, or you might just have accomplished that.”

Not surprisingly, that brought a short end to the conversation.

 

The inner caves looked more like the chambers of a medieval castle than damp holes in the ground. The walls and even the ceilings were hidden behind rich tapestries, the floors covered by thick fur carpets, and the darkness driven back by tall, bronze candelabras that each held dozens of flickering candles.

There was also the sort of heavy, ornately carved furnishings that made Styx long for a match and a canister of gasoline. Whatever his vows he was a warrior through and through, and he understood the danger of cluttering his lair with such foolish things. It would be impossible to defend these chambers against attack. A warrior was as likely to trip over an ottoman and break his neck as to stab his opponent.

Still, the Anasso had never asked his opinion when it came to his choice in decorating his chambers, and Styx was wise enough not to mention his concerns. Over the past hundred years his master had become increasingly unpredictable in his moods. More than one servant had met an unpleasant demise when speaking out of turn.

Styx found his steps slowing as he reached the large bedroom. So much had changed over the past hundred years. Too much.

The dark illness that plagued his master. Damocles, who filled the caves with his filthy presence. The ever deepening deceptions that he was forced to endure for the sake of all.