Beyond the Darkness (16 page)

Harley turned with a frown. “I thought she was in love or mated to a vampire or something?”

“She’ll be mated once she stops running from fate. Poor Jagr.” The green eyes narrowed as Darcy studied her with unnerving intensity. “And speaking of matings…”

Harley shifted, feeling like a dork as a heat flooded her cheeks.

She hadn’t grown up with sisters or best friends. She hadn’t gone to sleepovers where she could giggle and talk about boys.

Her private feelings had always been that. Private.

She wasn’t ready to discuss whatever was happening between her and Salvatore.

“I’m not mated.”

“No, but Salvatore has marked you.” Darcy’s gaze never wavered. “You know how amazing this is, don’t you?”

“It’s not something I’ve given a lot of thought to. We’ve been a little busy,” Harley pointed out dryly.

“Yes.” Darcy flashed her sweet smile. “Levet did say you were escaping from the curs who were holding you captive.”

“Levet.” Harley happily latched onto the opportunity to deflect her sister’s attention. “Good God, I forgot about the poor thing. Is he here?”

“No, and to be honest I’m worried about him.” There was no mistaking Darcy’s genuine concern. “He contacted Shay when he first escaped the tunnels, but we haven’t heard from him since. It’s not like him to just disappear.”

Harley grimaced, a sudden stab of guilt piercing her heart. They should never have allowed the poor little gargoyle to go off alone.

“He might have been captured by Caine.”

“Would the curs hurt him?”

Despite his reputation, Caine wasn’t completely amoral. But nothing was allowed to threaten his precious dreams of immortality.

“Caine’s more likely to hold him captive if he thinks the gargoyle could bring him leverage against Salvatore or the vampires.”

They exchanged rueful glances, both knowing Salvatore or the vamps wouldn’t lift a finger to save the miniature demon.

“And if there is no leverage?” Darcy demanded.

“Then all bets are off.”

“Crap.” Darcy wrapped her arms around her waist. “I’m not going to be happy if Levet is hurt.”

Oddly, Harley realized she, too, was worried about the gargoyle. He didn’t deserve to be caught in nasty Were politics.

“I’ll do what I can to discover what’s happened to him,” she promised.

Darcy bit her lower lip, looking far from reassured.

“Harley, I understand if you want revenge after being held prisoner by Caine for so long, but I can’t bear the thought of you putting yourself in danger. If you’ll wait, I’m certain we can figure out a suitable punishment together.”

Punishment? Harley’s brows snapped together. As if she’d waste a minute plotting revenge on the curs.

“Thanks, but I don’t give a crap about Caine.”

“Then why are you so anxious to leave?”

“Because Salvatore’s an idiot and the vampires are jackasses.”

“Okay,” Darcy said slowly. “I don’t disagree, but maybe you could be more specific. Why is Salvatore an idiot?”

Harley’s lips twisted in a humorless smile.

Oh, let her count the ways.

She chose the most pressing stupidity.

“He’s out there trying to stop some mutant freak who might or might not be a puppet of a demon lord.”

“And the vampires?”

“They won’t do a damned thing to stop his suicide mission.”

Darcy was smart enough not to pretend that Styx possessed any warm and fussy feelings for Salvatore. Or that the vamps would charge to the rescue.

“What do you intend to do?”

“Find Salvatore.”

“And then?”

“That’s as far as my plan goes.”

Darcy grasped Harley’s hands and regarded her with a somber expression.

“Harley, will you trust me?”

Harley stiffened. “I’ve heard those words before.”

“Will you?” Darcy squeezed her fingers. “Please?”

There was a short, uncomfortable silence before Harley heaved a noisy sigh.

“Dammit, I’m going to regret this.”

If Caine’s nerves hadn’t been scraped raw, he might have found humor in the journey through the dark, narrow tunnel that burrowed deep beneath the abandoned graveyard.

It was straight out of a B horror flick.

A brewing storm. Creepy caves. Monsters lurking in the dark.

All he needed was a half-dressed woman screaming at the top of her lungs and a stoner friend wandering off to get chopped in half.

As it was, he didn’t find anything remotely funny about leading the four furious curs through the echoing darkness, his skin crawling at the evil that pulsed through the labyrinth of caverns.

He suddenly realized he knew exactly how a condemned man felt walking to the execution chamber.

Clenching his jaw, he held the gun he’d loaded with silver bullets and glanced over his shoulder at the curs who grudgingly followed behind him.

It hadn’t been a difficult task to capture Salvatore’s faithful servants. Or even to keep them suitably leashed once his own curs had clamped heavy silver collars around their necks. For the moment they were so weak they could barely put one foot in front of another.

But it had taken a whole new level of stupidity to leave Andre to guard the Jeep parked behind the abandoned church and enter the caves.

A damned shame that running away like a freaking puss was no longer an option.

“Salvatore’s going to skin you alive and feed your entrails to the vultures,” the tall, bald-headed cur growled as he stumbled behind Caine.

“That’s the fourth time you’ve used that same threat, moron,” Salvatore snapped. “If you can’t think of a new one, then keep your trap shut.”

“It’s not a threat, it’s a promise.”

Caine tightened his grip on the gun, sick to death of Salvatore Giuliani.

“Are you so certain?” he sneered. “It seems to me that your precious king saved his own hide and left you swinging in the breeze.”

“You know nothing.”

“I know Salvatore had plenty of time and opportunity to warn you that he’d escaped and was having a fine time with his current bitch.”

The blond-haired cur who Caine suspected had a smidgen more intelligence than the others, snapped his teeth in fury.

“You’re wasting your time, traitor. Our loyalty to the king will never waver.”

Caine snorted. Okay, the cur was just as brainless as the others.

“Depressingly predictable,” he muttered. “I’m sick of curs who are content to be the butt-monkeys of the Weres. Just because you were made, and not born a werewolf, doesn’t make you any less worthy. It’s your precious Salvatore that has weakened and controlled you to make sure he always has a ready supply of willing slaves. Christ, he’s brought us to the point of extinction to keep control. Don’t you care that your brothers are dying?”

The bald-headed cur clenched his beefy hands, but the silver poisoning his body made it impossible for him to do more than glare at Caine.

“That recruitment shit didn’t work on me when the Civil War broke out, and it sure as hell isn’t going to work now.”

“But all Salvatore has to do is arrive in America and snap his fingers, and you go running like an eager puppy?”

“He’s my king.”

“Big yip.” Caine resisted the urge to knock the idiot upside the head. “And what does he do for you beyond keeping you on his leash? If you had any pride you would be seeking a means of throwing off the yoke of tyranny. The curs are destined to regain the powers that have been denied them for too long.”

The heat of the angry curs blasted through the narrow tunnel, searing away the tainted chill.

“A revolution you intend to lead?” the blond cur mocked.

Caine shrugged. “Someone had to be the Chosen One. It’s my fate.”

“So you want me to trade being a servant to the true King of Weres to become a slave for a batshit crazy cur?” the larger servant rasped. “No thanks.”

Caine considered the pleasure of popping a few silver bullets in the cur’s ass, but the sudden stench of rotting flesh was an unpleasant distraction.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t known Briggs would be waiting for him.

It was the one thing he’d been absolutely certain of.

But that didn’t keep his heart from dropping to the region of his shriveled gonads.

As if to mock his sense of impending doom, they stepped out of the tunnel into a large cavern that held three giant cages around a jagged pit in the center of the stone floor. Three torches were set in brackets on the wall, flooding the space with an eerie flicker of orange light, and revealing an even eerier sight of Briggs standing across the chamber.

“Salvatore’s pets were always annoyingly faithful,” he drawled as his crimson gaze flicked over the shackled curs. “Which, of course, makes them such a joy to kill.”

Caine reluctantly shoved his gun in the waistband of his jeans, able to taste the potent fear of his prisoners. He didn’t blame them. The sight and smell of Briggs was enough to send the bravest cur screaming in horror.

“Master.” Caine bowed, shivering as the icy power curled around him. “I have brought the curs as you requested.”

Wrapped in his clichéd black cloak and looking like he’d just crawled from his grave, Briggs waved a dismissive hand toward the nearest cage.

“Yes, I’m capable of seeing what you have done. Lock them away.”

Taking more time than necessary, Caine wrestled the weakened curs into one of the cages and slammed shut the door, hearing the lock slide closed. Then with a sick sensation in the pit of his stomach, he fell to his knees in a gesture of humility the pureblood demanded.

“What else would you have of me, master?”

“You have performed your last duty, Caine. Rise to your feet.”

Slowly straightening, Caine stiffened as the power in the cavern thickened, the prickling ice biting into his skin with cruel force.

“What’s going on?”

Briggs laughed. “It’s time for your reward.”

“Here?” A flare of panic threatened to shut down what little brain function was still chugging away. With a grim effort, Caine squashed his fear and forced his leaden feet to inch away from the silver cages toward the opening of the tunnel. “I don’t understand.”

“No, you don’t. And you never have,” Briggs taunted, flowing to block Caine’s exit. The crimson eyes shimmered with malevolent light, the gaunt face twisted with perverted amusement. “What a gullible fool you’ve been. I didn’t have to do anything more than mutter a bunch of gibberish and call it a prophecy for you to sacrifice everything and everyone for a chance at glory.”

“The vision.” Caine shook his head, refusing to believe it had all been a lie. It wasn’t possible. Not when he had physically felt his blood being altered as it spilled out of his body. He had even smelled his scent changing, becoming Were. It had been a tangible glimpse into the future. “It’s my destiny. That can’t be a lie.”

“Poor Caine.” Briggs raised his hand, lashing Caine with his frigid power. “What a disappointment this must be. To have believed that you were the great cur Messiah, and now to discover you are nothing more than a pawn in a Were power struggle.”

Caine stumbled to the side, distantly aware of the edge of the gaping pit that loomed dangerously close to his feet.

“Damn you.”

A sneer curled Briggs’s lips. “At least you can take comfort in knowing that your efforts have led Salvatore straight to his death. Doesn’t that warm your heart? I know it makes me all giddy.”

“You sick bastard.” Caine fell to his knees, his lungs barely capable of drawing in air as the agonizing pain seared through his body, turning his blood to ice. Somewhere deep in his heart, the hope that his growing suspicions about Briggs were wrong died a slow, relentless death. He’d been played like a violin by the pureblood. And now he was going to pay the ultimate price for his stupidity. How fitting. “I hope Salvatore sends you straight back to the hell you climbed out of.”

Infuriated by the mere mention of the King of Weres, Briggs sent another bolt of power that slammed into Caine with the force of a speeding semi-truck.

“The only thing Salvatore’s going to do is die,” he rasped. “Just like you.”

The torturous pain dug deeper, shredding through him with unnerving ease. Instinctively, Caine tried to shift, but Briggs’s power had taken command of him, refusing to allow his wolf to answer his call.

Laying his hands flat against the stone floor, Caine lowered his head and sucked in short, agonizing gasps of air. So this was it. He’d bet it all and lost.

Pathetic.

But a part of his pride wasn’t completely defeated.

He might never become the pure-blooded Were he’d been promised, but he’d be damned if he was going to let the bastard have the satisfaction of killing him.

He’d do the nasty deed himself.

“Screw off, you Salvatore wannabe.”

With the last of his strength, Caine shoved against the stone floor, pushing himself to the side until he reached the edge of the pit.

Belatedly realizing his prey was attempting to elude his punishment, Briggs flowed forward, his hands outstretched.

“No.”

Caine managed a ragged smile. “See you in hell.”

One more shove and he was toppling over the edge and into the waiting abyss, the weightless sense of falling not nearly as terrifying as it should have been.

“Stupid prick,” Briggs shouted from above him, his face twisted with fury. “There’s nowhere you can hide from me.”

The threat would have been a whole lot scarier if Caine hadn’t been plunging through the darkness at a speed that threatened a crushing, if not outright lethal, landing. Always supposing the pit ever came to an end.

Perhaps Briggs had a straight connection to hell.

It would explain so much.

Expecting flames and brimstone and imps with pitchforks, Caine plummeted for what seemed to be an eternity. But it wasn’t the devil who met him at the bottom of the pit.

Instead it was stark, unyielding stone.

A blinding agony blasted through his body as his bones snapped and his insides turned to jelly. For a split second he had time to actually look death in the face, then a blessed darkness rose up to consume him.

Thank the gods.

The formal salon of Styx’s mansion was just as flamboyantly beautiful as the upper rooms.

With delicate furnishings that might very well have come from Versailles, and a Persian carpet that had obviously been woven to perfectly match the gold-and-ivory décor, there was a definite museum vibe to the place.

Across the room the crimson curtains were pulled aside to reveal the towering windows that stretched the length of one wall, overlooking a sunken garden bathed in moonlight. A lovely view, no doubt, but Harley barely noticed. Hell, if she didn’t notice the massive vampire dressed in leather who leaned against the marble fireplace, or her twin sister she’d thought dead for the past thirty years, a view wasn’t going to capture her attention. No matter how magnificent.

Pacing from one end of the long room to the other, Harley at last came to a halt at the sound of the front doorbell. Darcy tossed her a reassuring smile as she headed into the foyer. Harley caught the unmistakable scent of vampire and…human?

Somehow she thought a goddess would have her own unique scent.

Her confusion only deepened as Darcy returned with the two strangers.

Dante was easily recognizable as a vampire. Pale perfect features. Long black hair pulled into a tail at his nape. Silver eyes that flashed with a bad-boy glint. Yummy body dressed in white satin shirt and black Chinos.

But who would ever guess the tiny honey-haired woman with astonishing blue eyes and impish grin was a powerful goddess?

She waited in silence as Darcy urged Abby toward her while Dante sauntered toward the waiting Styx.

“Harley, this is Abby.” Darcy performed the introductions with a broad smile. “Abby, my sister.”

“You’re the Chalice?” Harley demanded before she could halt the words.

“I know.” With a grimace, Abby ran a hand down her casual sundress. “I’m always such a disappointment. You’d think that if I have to be a goddess, I would at least get a crown and scepter.”

Belatedly realizing just how rude she must sound, Harley blushed, but thankfully Darcy was swift to take charge of the awkward conversation.

“That’s what a queen’s supposed to have, although mine must still be in the mail,” she teased, obviously a BFF with the goddess. “You should have a halo or a glowy gown.”

Abby laughed. “Instead I have split ends and PMS.”

Darcy nodded her head in sympathetic understanding. “Thank you for coming. I hope my mate wasn’t too overbearing in his invitation?”

Abby glanced toward the two men who were strolling in their direction.

“I’m accustomed to vampires. If they aren’t being overbearing, then I know something’s truly wrong. Unfortunately, I’m not sure how much help I can be. This whole goddess gig is still new to me, and I spend most of my time just trying to avoid causing mass chaos.”

The two vampires moved to stand at the side of their mates, each wrapping a possessive arm around the women they so clearly adored.

Harley pretended she didn’t notice that she was standing by herself. Or that her heart was clenching with something perilously close to envy.

She didn’t need a man standing at her side, bristling and flashing fang if anyone came too close. She could take care of herself, thank you very much.

“You have no sense of a disturbance?” Styx asked, his alarming gaze trained on Abby. “A demon lord would not be able to entirely disguise his powers.”

“The problem is that I’m not really sure what a disturbance would feel like,” Abby ruefully confessed. “A pity that becoming the Chalice didn’t come with a user’s manual.”

Dante tugged her protectively close. “We all know you are doing your best.”

“Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?” Styx pressed, impervious to his fellow vampire’s growing annoyance.

One arrogant king was obviously just like another.

Whether they were vamp or Were.

Abby shrugged, her expression troubled. “It’s not out of the ordinary, but I do sense something I can only describe as…evil. I’ve felt it ever since I became the Chalice, so to be honest, I’ve learned to ignore it.”