Embrace the Darkness (5 page)

Viper glanced down her slender body, a tantalizing heat pooling in his lower body. “I always get what I want. Sooner or later.”

The golden eyes flashed with fire. “Spoken like a true vampire.”

His bloodlust sated, if not his physical lust, Viper leaned against the cabinets.

“That's quite a chip you have on your shoulder, pet.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Why do you hate vampires?”

She reached to pluck an egg roll from a nearby carton. “Beyond the fact they have tried to drain me since the day I was born?”

“Vampires aren't the only demons who crave your blood. Your dislike seems a bit more personal.”

Silence descended as she ate the egg roll and then a wonton. Viper remained silent, simply waiting for her to confess the truth.

Another egg roll disappeared before she at last heaved a sigh and regarded him with a hostile frown.

“Vampires killed my father.”

Bones of the saints. That certainly explained her aggressive dislike. And placed another hurdle directly in his path to seduction.

“I am sorry.”

She gave a restless shrug. “It was a long time ago.”

“You were raised by your mother?”

“Yes.”

“A human?”

“Yes.”

She was deliberately keeping her emotions hidden, but Viper had been reading the body language of his prey for centuries. It was what predators did best.

“She kept you hidden from the demon world?”

“As much as she was able.”

“Did you pass as a human?”

It didn't take skill to read the anger that rippled over her beautiful features.

“You asked me why I hated vampires and I told you. Now, can we change the subject?”

Viper smiled as he straightened from the counter. He had an eternity to explore Shay's secrets.

It was just one of many explorations he intended to conduct.

“Eat your dinner. I have a few phone calls to make before dawn.”

Pausing only long enough to trail a finger over her soft cheek Viper moved toward the back of the house and the small study. He had not forgotten that there was something out there intent on stealing his Shalott.

That was unacceptable.

He intended to do whatever was necessary to track down the mysterious enemy and put a swift end to the danger.

The house built on the bluffs of the mighty Mississippi was pleasant enough.

Like most farmhouses in the Midwest it was a plain, two-story structure, with a wraparound porch and sharply angled roof. In places the white paint was peeling and the gutters drooping, but some might claim it only added to the rustic charm.

Surrounding the house, the gently rolling yard held a handful of outbuildings. And, of course, the land was well populated with a number of ancient ash and oak and dogwood trees.

At a glance it offered the simple warmth of most houses in the area. The sense that a stranger passing by would be welcomed with a smile and a warm meal.

But only at a glance.

Any strangers unfortunate enough to pass close to the farm would find no smiles awaiting them, and the only warm meal would be themselves.

Thankfully, it was isolated enough to prevent most stray sightseers, and the locals had long ago learned to cut a wide path around the place. It was rare the heavy silence was disturbed by more than birds.

The location of the house was no accident. Beneath the rolling hills were hidden a series of caves that stretched for miles. There were a hundred local legends connected to the caves. Some claimed that they had been used by the UnderGround Railroad. Some said that they had been the hideout of Jesse James. And others still that they had been used by smugglers who preferred the river to transport their ill-gotten goods.

None of the stories were true, of course. The caves had been home to demons since long before the first settlers had ever arrived.

In the deepest of the caves a slender imp with a cascade of golden curls peered into the scrying pool.

He appeared out of place among the bleak rock. With his satin green robe the color of spring moss that matched his eyes, and the delicate gold leaves that he had weaved through his curls he shimmered with an unearthly beauty.

An imp meant to rule a summer glade not the dark bowels of the earth.

Still, for the moment the darkness served him well enough.

He waved a slender hand over the pool to bring an end to the visions it revealed. Above him the shadow filled the cave with a fierce, choking anger.

“Your wizard has failed,” the shadow rasped the obvious.

“So it would seem, my lord.” Rising to his feet Damocles carefully brushed the dirt from his robe. “I did warn you that Joseph was not at all reliable.”

“He was a fool and a lickspittle, but the fault was not entirely his own, was it?” The shadow seemed to thicken. “If I were a suspicious man I would wonder why you did not send my envoy with sufficient funds to bid on the Shalott.”

A faint smile touched the imp's handsome features. It was not that he was indifferent to the pulsing danger in the air. Only a fool would believe that the shadow could not reach out and strike him dead. Or worse. But he had spent nearly a century becoming indispensable to his current master. For the moment he was secure enough.

“You wound me, sir,” he protested, his fingers toying with the delicate chain that hung about his neck. “I could hardly have known that the vampire would make such an outrageous bid. Besides, would you truly have me hand over half a million dollars in cash to any servant? For all of Joseph's pledge of loyalty I do not believe even he could have withstood the temptation to…what do they say…take the money and run?”

The angry hiss scraped against Damocles delicate ears.

“He knew that if he ran I would have killed him.”

“Of course, but greed is rarely logical.”

“So now we do not have the Shalott and worse she is in the hands of a vampire.”

The imp gave an innocent lift of his brows. “Surely that is good news? You have considerable power among the clans. Can you not simply demand that this Viper hand the demon over to you?”

“Idiot.” An unseen hand struck Damocles across the face. “I cannot reveal my interest in this. It would only cause the sort of speculation and questions I have sought to avoid. There must be no hint I am connected to the Shalott until I am healed. If my enemies knew how weakened I have become…”

Damocles felt blood running down his cheek but he did not so much as flinch. “That shall never happen, my lord. Not so long as I am at your side.”

“Oh yes, my sweet imp, such loyalty,” the voice mocked.

“It is as deep and endless as the sea.”

“More like as deep and endless as my coffers.”

The imp offered a half bow. “We all have our weaknesses, do we not?”

“Bah.” The shadow stirred with a restless impatience. “I want that demon. Awaken your pet.”

Damocles straightened, his thoughts racing at this most unexpected turn. He prided himself on preparing for every eventuality. On reading the future with uncanny skill.

He was never caught off guard, never unprepared.

On this occasion, however, he had to admit that his cunning wiles had failed him.

Most annoying.

“My pet?” He lightly touched his golden chain. “Surely not yet, my lord? It is bound to stir unwelcome attention. I have several—”

His words were choked off as a pressure encircled his throat and cut off his air.

“Have you forgotten who is master here, imp?”

Black flecks were dancing before Damocles's eyes before the pressure at last eased and he was allowed to suck in a lung full of air.

A fury raced through his blood but with the ease of long practice Damocles lowered himself to his knees and bent his head as was expected of a proper servant.

His plans could be altered. He was nothing if not resourceful.

“Of course not, my lord. It shall be as you desire.” He slowly lifted his head. “Still, there is no guarantee that there will not be casualties.”

“What do I care as long as it is not the Shalott?” the shadow demanded.

“The vampire—”

“A necessary sacrifice.”

Damocles deliberately paused. “Necessary perhaps, but I do not believe your Ravens will be so understanding.”

That painful hiss echoed through the cave. “Which is why they shall not learn of my plan. Is that clear?”

He hid a smile. At least he need not concern himself with that meddling band of jackasses. They had done their best to interfere in his plots and schemes and he had promised himself a proper punishment. He was very good at punishment.

But not now. Not yet.

“Perfectly, my lord. Indeed I shall go along to ensure that there are no unfortunate mistakes.”

“A wise decision.”

Damocles slowly rose to his feet, his thoughts racing. “But first I believe I shall pay a visit on the troll.”

There was a suspicious pause. “Why? He is meaningless.”

The imp smiled. “Not so meaningless. He holds the curse that binds the Shalott.”

“So?”

“If he dies, she dies. I think it would be wiser to have him in our care to keep him out of the hands of our enemies.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” the shadow rasped. “I should have thought of that. We cannot risk having that troll running loose. Anything could happen to him.”

“I will attend to him personally.”

“Good.” The shadow stirred with a harsh sigh. “I must rest.”

Damocles offered a low bow. “Certainly, my lord. Conserve your strength. Soon enough you will be strong and whole once again.”

There was a brief silence. “Damocles?”

“Yes, my lord?”

“You will send me what I need tonight?”

The imp hid his smile of satisfaction. “I have everything prepared.”

“You must take care. If the Ravens…”

“I will be the soul of discretion.”

“Good. Now go before you are missed.”

With one last bow Damocles was moving through darkness. There was a direct path to the upper caves, but he was wise enough to avoid it. He was well aware that the damnable Ravens devoted a great deal of effort to keeping track of his movements. It pleased him to be able to slip past their spies with such ease.

He had reached the narrow path that would lead to his own private caves when a shadow abruptly loomed before him. He didn't have to wait for the form to step into the flickering light of the nearby torch to know who blocked his path.

Only one possessed the arrogance to regard him as if he were a bit of filth stuck to the bottom of his boot.

“Hold, Damocles, I would have a word with you.”

Damocles regarded the tall, fiercely handsome vampire with a taunting smile.

“Ah, if it isn't Sir Tall, Dark, and Gloomy. What's the matter? Did you weary of frightening the rats in the cellars and come in search of more elusive game?”

The bronzed features remained impassive. Nothing seemed to touch the leader of the Ravens. Not insults. Not threats. Not even blatant flattery.

A fact that annoyed the hell out of Damocles.

“Where have you been?” the man simply known as Styx demanded.

Damocles gave a lift of his brows. “I have been performing a small task for our master.”

“What task?”

“Obviously that is between me and my master.”

A cold flare of power washed over Damocles as the towering demon took a step forward.

“I could have the truth from you if I desired.”

“And I could sprout wings and fly to Paris if I desired,” Damocles mocked. “If you want the truth seek it from our master.”

“I seek it from you. Tell me why you sneak through these tunnels like a thief.”

The prickles became downright painful but Damocles determinedly ignored them.

Only the strong survived in these caves.

“I have been sworn to secrecy. Would you have me break my oath?”

The Raven gave a disgusted sound. “As if an imp would know anything of oaths and honor.”

Damocles could have told him that he held his oaths more dearly than anyone would ever know. Instead he leaned against the wall and inspected the golden thread on the cuff of his robe with arrogant indifference.

“Did you seek me out to offer me tedious insults or did you have a purpose?”

The lean, harsh features tightened. “Much against my wishes the master has charged you with retrieving the Shalott. So far you have done nothing more than offer empty promises. Where is the demon?”

Damocles shrugged. “There has been a minor setback, but there is no reason to fear. I shall soon have her in my grasp.”

Without warning Damocles found himself flat on his back nursing a bruised jaw. The blow had come so swiftly he hadn't had a chance to avoid it.

“I have no trust in you, imp, and even less liking. Your arrival at our door was a dark omen that has brought nothing but grief. Produce the Shalott or I will have your head.”

Without a backward glance Styx was sweeping through the darkness and leaving Damocles to wipe the blood from his mouth.

Alone Damocles allowed a smile to curve his lips.

It was always a good day when he could provoke the bloody Prince of Ice to lose his temper.

He intended to ensure there were many, many more such days.