Beyond the Darkness (18 page)

He twisted the knife deeper, searching for a heart and listening with grim pleasure as Briggs’s breath became a rattle. The pureblood’s lips pulled back in a snarl, clearly in pain, if not actually dying.

The silver burned through Briggs’s flesh, at last forcing him to shift back to his gaunt, fragile human body.

“No.” The crimson gaze shifted over Salvatore’s shoulder, as if searching for someone. “Master.”

“Do you want me to wait so your big bad master can come save you?” Salvatore sneered. “Or do you prefer the whole resurrection process?”

“He’ll never allow you to harm me.”

“I’m willing to test that theory.”

Yanking out the dagger, Salvatore was on the point of driving it back into the narrow chest that was already bleeding in a strange, sluggish way when there was the sound of a low hiss from behind him.

Salvatore jerked around, prepared for whatever was coming.

Except…nothing was coming.

At least nothing he could see or touch.

Was he jumping at shadows?

The thought had barely passed through his mind when a strange mist swirled around his head, and the sound of a bell echoed through his brain.

That was the last thing he remembered.

Salvatore discovered coming back to his senses was a slow, unpleasant process.

His head was groggy, his mouth as dry as the Sahara, and his entire body blazed with an agony that was explained once he opened his eyes to find he was currently stretched out on the stone altar, and held in place with a thick silver chain that wrapped around his body from his neck to his ankles.

Lifting his aching head a few inches off the hard stone, he took inventory of his situation, his breath hissing through his teeth as he noticed his own silver dagger stuck into his upper thigh. WTF? The chain was frying his skin with such intensity he hadn’t even noticed the damned dagger in his leg.

His brows snapped together as he watched the steady trickle of his blood flow into a tiny trough that had been carved along the edge of the altar. Pooling at the bottom of the table, the blood slowly dribbled into the brazier below his feet, the blazing fire hissing with each drip.

“What the hell?” he muttered, his gaze searching the seemingly empty cavern.

He didn’t know how long he’d been out, or where Briggs had disappeared to, or how he’d been carted back to this cave and trussed up like a sacrificial lamb.

All he knew was that he was in a boatload of trouble.

“Unfortunately, my servant is correct,” an unfamiliar voice filled the cavern, powerful and yet oddly muffled, as if it were speaking through water. “As much as I have enjoyed watching you teach Briggs a lesson in humility, I still have need of him.”

Genuine, undiluted alarm clenched Salvatore’s stomach.

Whoever had hog-tied him wasn’t any normal demon. The magic that hummed in the air was enough to make his hair stand on end.

“And you are?” he gritted, refusing to give into the urge to panic.

“Nilapalsara.”

“Sorry. Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“It’s an ancient and revered name, although in this world I was worshipped as Balam,” the stranger smoothly answered, indifferent to Salvatore’s taunting.

His heart slammed against his aching ribs, his hands clenching at his sides.

“Demon lord.”

“You seem surprised.”

Surprised? Not the word he was looking for.

“You were banned from this world.”

Painful prickles raced over his skin. “The goddess certainly did her best to be rid of me. Thankfully, I possessed a deep and intimate connection to this dimension.”

Salvatore grimaced. “Mackenzie.”

“Very good.”

“How did you trick him into accepting your bond?”

“There was no trick.” There was the faintest hint of superiority in the voice, as if the demon lord wasn’t entirely above petty emotions. “The pureblood sought me out when it became obvious that he wasn’t the next in line for the throne.”

Salvatore desperately wanted to deny the claim. The mere thought that a Were would sacrifice his people for his own gain went against everything purebloods held sacred. But he’d already accepted the previous king’s treachery.

What was the point in playing dumb?

“You gave him the power to kill the legitimate heirs?” he instead said.

“I like to encourage ambition.”

“Blind greed is not the same as ambition.”

“Perhaps not to you, but they both suit my purpose.”

It was that mysterious purpose that was bothering Salvatore. Demon lords didn’t grant favors out of the kindness of their black hearts. Ignoring the ravaging pain and the sickening hiss of his life blood dripping into the flames, he struggled to think clearly.

“Mackenzie was given the black magic necessary to steal the throne; what did you get out of the deal?”

“He allowed me access to this world.”

“There had to be more…” Salvatore ground his teeth as realization abruptly hit.
Dio.
How the hell had he been so dense? “You used Mackenzie to drain the souls of all Weres. You’re responsible for the loss of our powers.”

The demon lord’s laughter echoed through the cavern. The sound was perhaps the creepiest thing Salvatore had ever heard.

“Very good, Giuliani. It took Mackenzie centuries to at last realize I was able to call on his connection to the packs.”

Salvatore bit back his smart-ass comment as Balam’s words sank through the fuzziness in his brain.

He’d never been close to Mackenzie, and after it was known that he was to be the next king, the older Were had become downright surly toward him. But there had been something different about him in the last few years of his life.

He was still secretive and bad-tempered and prone to treat Salvatore as the enemy, but looking back, Salvatore was beginning to suspect that Mackenzie had come to regret his choices.

Could he actually have been loyal in the end?

“And when he discovered you were draining the Weres, he tried to cut off your supply,” he accused.

The air thickened with a tangible anger. “His last futile act as king.”

“I assume Briggs murdered him before he could break your bond?”

“Such delicious irony. Mackenzie was horrified when it was discovered his son was not to be the next in line for the throne, and he was the one to bring Briggs to me for the power to defeat you.”

Salvatore made a startled sound. Weres were more animal than human when it came to family. The entire pack raised the cubs, and bloodlines had no substantial meaning. Each pureblood was expected to prove themselves, not rely on their parents or grandparents to give them worth.

“He brought Briggs to you?”

“Yes, and in the end Briggs used the power to kill his own father.”

He growled deep in his throat. “He wasn’t so lucky against me.”

“No. I will admit, I underestimated your power.”

Salvatore was certain that the demon lord didn’t intend to make that mistake again.

“I would be a lot more flattered if you hadn’t planned for Briggs to kill me and take my throne,” he muttered.

“It was nothing personal. You were an obstacle that needed to be disposed of.”

“Nothing personal?” Salvatore snorted. “I happen to take attempted murder very personally, but maybe that’s just me.”

“And yet, here you are.”

Something in the dark voice set off yet another rash of alarms in Salvatore. Astonishing he could feel anything beyond the scorching agony of the silver chains and his strength that was fading with every drip of blood.

“Yes, here I am,” he rasped. “Odd. After Briggs’s abysmal failure to rid the world of my presence, I would have thought you would have sent a new assassin. Briggs isn’t the only one who would be happy to see me dead.”

“My power in this world was limited when the goddess was summoned, and nearly destroyed when Mackenzie died, leaving me without the ability to call upon the Weres’ energy.” The demon lord surprisingly answered. No doubt he enjoyed revealing his clever scheme. “To bring Briggs back from the grave took years to accomplish, and drained me of what few powers I had left.”

Salvatore grimaced. He at least knew why it had taken so long for Briggs to pull his Lazareth act, but it wasn’t particularly reassuring to think he’d been so easily bested by an impotent demon lord.

“Obviously not all your powers.”

“Ah, yes, a little gift from the mages who once worshipped the dark prince in these caves.”

Salvatore swallowed a soft moan, his thoughts threatening to scramble at the relentless pain. He knew something about mages and caves, didn’t he? Something about Dante’s mate becoming the Chalice.

“The vampires killed the mages,” he said.

“True, they failed in their efforts to kill the goddess and return their master, but their devoted sacrifices over the past decades have thinned the barrier between dimensions. When I recovered enough to once again touch this world, I realized that you might be far more valuable alive than dead.”

Somehow, Salvatore wasn’t remotely reassured.

There were all sorts of nasty things worse than death.

“Why did you send Briggs to raid my nursery?” he demanded, as much to head off the looming panic as to hear the answer to the question that had been nagging at him for the past thirty years.

“I simply requested that he find the means to lure you closer, while keeping you too distracted to realize you were on our leash.”

Salvatore gritted his teeth.

Cristo,
he’d been such an imbecile.

He had wasted years chasing shadows. If only he hadn’t allowed himself to be sidetracked by the missing babies, he might…

Salvatore abruptly cut short the mental flagellation.

Even if he hadn’t allowed Briggs to lead him around like a docile sheep, he would never have figured out what was slowly killing the Weres.

Who the hell would suspect a demon lord? They were supposed to be nothing more than a myth.

“Taking thirty years to lure me into a trap is a little extreme,” he muttered, his pride as damaged as his body. “All he had to do was let me know the babies were here, and I would have happily rushed to my own doom.”

“I had planned to await this moment until I was once again at full strength.” The flames again flared with annoyance. “Unfortunately, my perfectly devised plan has been threatened by Briggs’s obsessive hatred toward you, and your own annoying interference.”

“Interference?”

“You can’t be allowed to mate and bring back the ancient magic,” the dark voice hissed.

Ah. So he wasn’t going insane.

The powers were truly returning.

Salvatore briefly closed his eyes, allowing the wondrous thought of Harley to fill his mind. Instantly the scent of vanilla washed over him, her warmth battling back the ruthless pain as if she were near. Impossible, of course. Still, it was a comfort he readily clung to.

“So now you have me here,” he husked. “What do you want from me?”

“Your blood.”

Not a big surprise. He glanced down at the dagger stuck in his thigh, draining him like a butchered pig. He had already assumed it was his blood or soul that the demon lord desired.

“Perhaps I’m not inclined to share.”

“I fear that’s not going to be an option.”

“I at least deserve to know what you intend to do with it.”

The air thickened until Salvatore could barely breathe. “Deserve?”

“I assume I won’t be around to appreciate the sacrifice.”

“No, that much is guaranteed.”

“Then what’s the harm in sharing?”

There was a long pause, as if Balam was momentarily distracted, then his low chuckle swirled through the cave. Salvatore shuddered in revulsion.

“Very well,” the demon lord agreed. “I intend to use your blood to create a portal and enter your world.”

“Why not use Briggs’s? He would no doubt be thrilled to donate to the cause.”

“His blood will never possess the potency of yours. A knowledge that has plagued him for centuries.”

Balam sounded as if he enjoyed Briggs’s frustration at his potency shortfall. So much for honor among thieves.

“But he’s good enough to be your stooge?”

“For now. Once I’ve passed through the portal, his services will no longer be required. I’ll be able to take personal command of the Weres.”

Fury blasted through Salvatore. Not for Briggs’s inevitable death at the hands of the demon lord. Good riddance. But the threat that his Weres might become mere fodder for the demon lord was enough to make him howl in anguish.

He had to find some means of stopping his blood from draining into the brazier. Unfortunately, at the moment his only hope was baiting Briggs into killing him before the portal could be opened.

“Have you shared that bit of info with Briggs?”

“I prefer to keep it a surprise.”

“No shit. Where is the idiot?”

“He’s gone to greet our uninvited guests.”

Salvatore stiffened, a bad feeling inching down his spine. “Guests?”

“Your potential mate has arrived with several nasty leeches. She obviously needs to learn what happens to naughty Weres who intrude where they don’t belong.”

Harley.

How had she followed him? And more importantly, why?

Dio.
He was going to kill Styx for letting her put herself in danger.

Indifferent to the excruciating pain, he jerked against the binding chains, desperate to get to his mate.

“You bastard.”

“Forgive me, did you desire a tearful good-bye with your beloved?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“No, Giuliani, what you’re going to do is set me free.”

Tilting back his head, Salvatore screamed in terrified fury.

“Harley.”

Harley’s nerves were near the breaking point by the time they pulled to a halt at the long forgotten church.

It could have been the result of being squashed into the Hummer with several very large, very lethal vampires, a full-fledged goddess, and her twin sister. Or even the lightning speed with which they had made the trip.

But Harley was honest enough to admit that her stomach-clenching stress was entirely due to Salvatore Giuliani.