Beyond the Darkness (9 page)

The first rule in the demon world was to always avoid the attention of mortals. Those who flaunted that particular law would soon find themselves dead. Or worse, hauled before the Oracles. The ruling Commission could devise punishments that would make death seem like a holiday.

Flowing forward with blinding speed, Salvatore clubbed the cur on the back of the head, calmly stepping over his unconscious form as it tumbled to the cement.

“Forgive me for intruding, but you looked like you could use some help,” he drawled.

The human licked his lips, his eyes wide and hands shaking. “Who are you?”

“The man who apparently just saved you from having your throat ripped out.”

With a shudder the man glanced down at the unconscious cur. “There’s something not right with him.”

“Drugs.”

“I never heard of a drug turning a man’s eyes red before.”

“A new designer drug from St. Louis,” Salvatore smoothly lied.

The man frowned, but accepted Salvatore’s ridiculous claim. “You know him?”

“My partner and I have been tracking him since he escaped from the authorities two days ago.”

“You’re a cop?”

“Close enough.”

Proving he wasn’t a full-fledged idiot, the human ran a suspicious gaze over Salvatore’s hard features and lethal golden eyes. Not even casual clothes could hide his feral nature.

“Where’s your badge?”

Salvatore shrugged. “I’m not here to interfere in your business, I’m just looking for my partner. The blonde this man was asking about.”

The man took a wary step backwards. “The blonde?”

“Yes. Have you seen her?”

“I don’t want to get involved…”

Reaching into his pocket, Salvatore pulled out the roll of money he’d stolen the night before.

“I can make it worth your while.” He peeled off a few bills, tossing them at the man’s feet. “Where did she go?”

Careful to keep an eye on Salvatore, the human bent down to snatch the money and shove it into his pocket.

“I saw a blonde running up Main Street.”

“On foot?”

“Yeah.”

“How long ago?”

“Not more than fifteen minutes.”

“She was alone?”

The man straightened, shoving the money in his pocket. “As far as I could tell.”

With a dip of his head, Salvatore headed toward the street.
“Grazie.”

“Hey, what about this guy on the ground?”

Salvatore’s pace never slowed. “Not my problem.”

“You can’t just leave him here.”

“Actually, I can, although I will offer you a word of warning.” Reaching the stone wall that marked the edge of the parking lot, Salvatore easily vaulted over it to land on the sidewalk. “You don’t want to be nearby when he wakes up.”

“Hey…”

The human continued to yell meaningless words, but Salvatore was already jogging down the street, forced to keep his pace frustratingly slow to peer in the passing shops.

Cristo.
He’d been an idiot to let Harley keep the amulet. It was practically an invitation for the headstrong Were to bolt, knowing he couldn’t track her scent. Of course, on the upside, no one else could track her either, he reminded himself. And considering the number of enemies on his trail, that made the amulet a treasure beyond price.

No, if he had a brain in his head he would have let her keep the amulet and instead tied her to the bed.

Salvatore shuddered. Even after hours of sating his rampant desire, his blood still heated and his body hardened at the mere thought of the aggravating woman.

Not surprising.

He’d enjoyed talented lovers over the years, but what happened between him and Harley hadn’t been just sex.

It had been a stunning explosion of sensations that had bound him irrevocably to his mate. And he didn’t even have the sense to regret the realization that his life was forever altered.

In fact, his only regret was that Harley was obviously not ready to accept their mating.

Reaching the edge of the town, Salvatore took a moment to consider his options. There was always the possibility that Harley had decided to return to Caine. She had to know the cur would be willing to forgive her anything if she agreed to stay with him. There was also the possibility that she’d stolen a car and was even now speeding ever farther away.

His instinct, however, told him that she was still near.

Entering the woods that sprawled north of the town, Salvatore cautiously threaded his way through the thick undergrowth. In the distance he could hear the call of birds and the rustle of small game, but a heavy silence cloaked around him. Not unusual. Animals could sense his predatory nature. It was, instead, the prickle of energy that warned a Were was near.

“Harley?”

Alarm trickled down his spine as the scent of rotting meat filled the air. Whoever was out there, it wasn’t Harley.

Swiftly tugging off his clothes, Salvatore prepared to shift. Under normal circumstances there wasn’t a Were born who could challenge him. Unfortunately, his unclaimed mating bond made him vulnerable.

Calling his power, Salvatore hesitated as a cold chill blasted from a small clearing just ahead of him and the shimmering outline of a man began to form. His hands clenched as he recognized the short Were with unkempt brown hair and crimson eyes.

He was paler than he recalled, his face thinner, and his eyes an even deeper red. But there was no mistaking the cruel features and whiff of madness that clung to him.

“Briggs,” he hissed.

“Ah, Salvatore Giuliani,” the man sneered, his English accent as pronounced as it had been centuries ago. Briggs had always been too arrogant to try to blend in with the crowd. Which explained the long black cloak he had wrapped around his slender body. Or maybe his taste in fashion was just that revolting. “You cannot know how long I have waited for this moment.”

“I presume you’ve been waiting since I kicked your ass, tossed you in a fire, and spread your ashes on a dung heap,” Salvatore sneered.

The crimson eyes flashed, the chill spreading to bite into Salvatore’s skin.
Dio.
What had Briggs done to himself?

“So proud of yourself, and yet here I am.”

Salvatore narrowed his gaze. He didn’t know jack-crap about magic, but he was certain a Were couldn’t suck enough power from his host to pop from one place to another. Briggs had to be projecting his appearance.

Not that it made him any less dangerous.

Or less crazy.

“But not in all your glory,” Salvatore taunted, vividly recalling that Briggs’s weakness had always been his inability to control his temper. “Afraid to face me like a true Were, magic-sucker?”

“And why should I bother when I have slaves to collect the trash?”

Briggs lifted his arm and Salvatore staggered backwards as the Were sent a crushing command toward the distant curs. The years obviously hadn’t taught the Were any restraint. He’d always been a big fan of overkill.

Shaking off the pinpricks of pain, Salvatore studied his age-old enemy. It wouldn’t take long for the curs to arrive. Before then, he needed to know how Briggs was still alive and what the hell he was plotting.

“Surely you can’t be idiotic enough to believe your curs can capture me?”

Briggs smirked, confident he had Salvatore cornered. “They are remarkably inept, but they serve their purpose on most occasions.”

“Not this occasion.” Salvatore shrugged, deliberately nonchalant. “Unless you have a few hundred hidden among the trees.”

“As always, you have sadly underestimated me, Salvatore.”

“No, Briggs, as always, you’ve overestimated yourself.” Indifferent to the fact that he was stark naked, Salvatore folded his arms over his chest and peered down his nose at the smaller Were. Briggs hated to be reminded of his small stature. “You would think dying once would have taught you that you will never be as good as me. I’m the king, and you’re a tainted has-been who has to use black magic because he isn’t Were enough to beat me.”

“King?” Briggs curled his lips. “You’re a pathetic upstart who stole what was rightfully mine.”

“If it was rightfully yours, I would never be allowed to sit on the throne. You were found unworthy.”

“Bastard.” Briggs lifted his arm and Salvatore felt icy bands of power wrap around him, driving him to his knees. “I will make you pay.”

“Magic,” Salvatore snarled, nearly gagging at the stench of rotting meat. A Were’s strength was a warm, earthy force that had nothing in common with the twisted perversion of black magic. “You’re pathetic.”

Briggs moved toward him, his cloak rippling around him, though the leaves beneath his feet made no sound.

Freak.

“I’m not the one on my knees.”

“What do you want?”

“Everything you took from me.”

Salvatore spit at the heavy boots that halted mere feet away. “The Weres will never accept a walking corpse who stinks of treachery.”

“They will have no choice.”

Salvatore’s sharp laugh echoed through the trees. “Weres always have a choice.”

“I can give them what you cannot.”

“And what’s that?”

The Were smirked. “A future.”

“Future? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Children.”

Salvatore sucked in a stunned breath. No. This lunatic couldn’t possibly have found the cure to heal the Weres. Fate might be cruel, but it couldn’t be completely without mercy.

Briggs was an unstable, power-hungry despot who would lead the Were to certain destruction.

“You think you can produce children with magic?” he demanded.

“I would not be the first Were leader willing to seek help for our people through…unconventional means.” A taunting smile curved his lips. “How do you think I was first introduced to the power?”

“You lie.”

Briggs reached out to run a finger down Salvatore’s cheek, his touch leaving a trail of frigid pain.

“I was taken into the king’s confidence when it was obvious I was to be his heir.” His eyes flashed with pure hate. “Before you were born.”

Salvatore gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the unease that stirred in the pit of his stomach.

The previous king had been a reclusive, sometimes volatile beast who too often disappeared for years on end. He’d become even more secretive after Salvatore had come into his powers, rarely mingling among his pack.

But there hadn’t been any hint he was brewing up evil in his lair.

That seemed like something Salvatore would have noticed.

“If that was true, then he would have shared the same information with me,” he rasped.

“He was warned not to.”

“Warned? By who?”

“By the ancient spirits.”

“Cristo.”
Salvatore jerked from Briggs’s painful touch. “You’re completely nuts.”

Fury tightened the gaunt face. “Do not dare to mock me.”

“If you’re to be the great Messiah, then where are your creations?”

With an effort, Briggs regained command of his temper, smoothing his hands down the ridiculous cloak.

“All in good time.”

There was no mistaking the Were’s smug confidence, and Salvatore was hit by a sudden suspicion.

“God, you can’t believe you will change your pathetic curs into purebloods?” He shook his head. “I would expect such stupidity from Caine. But you, Briggs? How disappointing.”

Briggs’s expression was condescending, reminding Salvatore how much pleasure it had been to cut out his heart.

“I merely offered the cur the opportunity to glimpse into his future. What he claims to have seen is no concern of mine.”

“If it isn’t the curs, then where are your supposed children?”

“They will come when the time is right,” Briggs assured him. “You interfered too soon.”

Interfered? As much as Salvatore wanted to take credit for disrupting Briggs’s nefarious plans, he hadn’t done anything more than stumble across Caine. And…Harley.

A sudden, blinding rage rushed through Salvatore as he struggled against the icy bonds that held him.

“You son of a bitch,” he ground out. “You will never have Harley, or her sisters. Never.”

“Harley?” Briggs appeared genuinely puzzled. “Ah, Caine’s bitch.” He shrugged. “She’ll no doubt warm my bed, as will all the female purebloods.”

Salvatore’s rage faltered, his brow furrowed. “You can’t fool me, Briggs. You’re responsible for stealing the baby Weres from my nursery.”

“Of course, I did. And they have proven to be the perfect distraction.” He chuckled. “Even better than I could ever have dreamed possible.”

“You had four pure-blooded babies snatched for a distraction?”

“I knew how desperately you were pinning your hopes on them and that you would sacrifice anything to retrieve them, even leaving your stronghold in Rome,” Briggs drawled, his flagrant conceit etched on his face. “They were mere pawns in your ultimate destruction.”

Son of a bitch.

Salvatore shook his head in self-disgust.

Of all the reasons he’d imagined for the theft of the babies over the past thirty years, he’d never even considered the possibility it had been a plot personally directed at him.

“You deliberately led me here.”

“Of course.”

“Why?”

“As I said, it is not yet time to reveal my grand scheme,” Briggs said, leaning down to better enjoy Salvatore’s frustration. “But be assured…” He bit off his words as his eyes widened in an unexpected horror. He leaned even closer, sniffing Salvatore’s skin. “What is that?”

A savage smile curved Salvatore’s mouth. “The mating bond.”

Briggs straightened, his pale face becoming downright pasty.

“No. It cannot be.”

“Obviously, it can.”

Caught in their battle of wills, neither men noticed they were no longer alone. Not until there was the distinct sound of a gun being cocked.

“Checkmate this.”

Salvatore’s blood ran cold as he caught sight of Harley standing directly behind Briggs, her handgun pointed to the back of the Were’s head.

“Harley, no!”

Harley was already squeezing the trigger when Salvatore cried out. With deadly accuracy the bullet smashed into the back of the Were’s head, the force of the blow sending him tumbling forward.

She instinctively kept the gun pointed at the stranger, her gut clenching as she watched the gaping hole in his skull swiftly knitting back together.

Where was the blood? The gore?

Not even the most powerful Were could be shot point-blank and not take a few minutes to recover.

Well, that was the common assumption.

A pity no one had told the scary Were who was already shimmering with power as he shifted.

Harley’s breath disappeared as the lethal animal with russet fur and large razor-sharp teeth turned to regard her with fierce crimson eyes.

Holy shit.

Harley never realized that blood could actually curdle.

Accustomed to curs, she was unprepared for the sheer size and terrifying power of a pureblood. The air thickened, choking her with the heavy sense of danger. Her skin prickled. And her muscles clenched.

Her gut impulse was to flee from the terrifying predator, but Harley possessed enough sense to freeze.

The fastest way to death was to give the big sceevy Were something to chase.

Instead, she steadied her arm and prepared to shoot the beast. It hadn’t done much the first time. Okay, it had done
something.
It’d pissed him off. But unable to shift herself, she didn’t have much choice.

The Were lowered his head, preparing to attack, but before Harley could get off a shot, a furious howl split the air.

Stunned, Harley stumbled backwards, watching as Salvatore crouched on the ground, his body thickening and his face elongating as a thick raven-black fur rippled over his skin. In the blink of an eye, he was transformed into a huge werewolf.

God, he was beautiful, she acknowledged, her heart squeezing with an odd fear as he crashed into the unknown Were with a violent force.

Rolling across the clearing, the two purebloods ripped at one another with long claws, their jaws snapping. Harley lowered her gun, unable to risk taking a shot as the vicious battle continued.

The scent of blood filled the air, making Harley’s stomach clench with dread. Salvatore was the larger, more aggressive Were, but the stranger appeared freakishly immune to his savage wounds.

It had to be Briggs, she told herself. Nothing but black magic could allow the lesser Were to survive Salvatore’s brutal fury.

The realization, however, did nothing to reassure Harley.

How was Salvatore supposed to defeat a zombie Were with evil powers?

A pained yelp echoed through the trees as Salvatore at last rolled on top of the squirming Were, latching his teeth deep into his opponent’s throat. The fight should have been at an end, but proving his unnatural powers, Briggs continued to claw at Salvatore’s back, leaving deep scratches that oozed an alarming amount of blood.

Salvatore couldn’t bleed to death, but he would quickly weaken if he wasn’t allowed to heal.

Dammit.

Harley found herself moving forward, tired of watching from the sidelines.

She didn’t have a clue what would hurt the Were, but she was willing to try anything. Starting with unloading a bunch of bullets straight into his head.

Circling wide enough to avoid distracting Salvatore, Harley waited until she had a clear shot at the Were’s head before lifting her arm and aiming the gun.

Almost as if sensing her presence, Briggs shifted his crimson gaze to regard her with a malevolent warning.

God. Her throat tightened with an icy dread, but her arm never wavered. The thing was an abomination. The thought of it creeping around the world would give any sane demon nightmares.

Perhaps reading the determination etched on her face, the Were snarled with fury and Harley was hit with a blast of frigid air. Reeling backwards, she could only watch in horror as the thing disappeared with a loud pop.

Harley ended up flat on her back, more stunned by the Were’s vanishing act than by the magical blow. She sucked a breath into her aching lungs, staring at the dappled sun that peeked through the heavy canopy of leaves overhead. Then without warning, her view was blocked by Salvatore’s lean, darkly beautiful face.

“Harley?” He’d changed back to human form, but the golden eyes continued to glow with power.

Sitting up, Harley pushed the hair out of her face and studied the hard naked body crouched beside her. It was worth studying at any time, but for the moment Harley’s only interest was in the deep wounds that marred his bronzed flesh.

“You’re injured,” she breathed.

“Nothing that won’t heal,” he assured her, his expression concerned. “What about you?”

“I’m fine.”

To prove her point, Harley forced herself to her feet, knocking the dirt off her khaki shorts as Salvatore moved to pull on his jeans and T-shirt. His movements were stiff, but it was obvious he would recover, and Harley found her rush of adrenaline fading, leaving behind a vague unease.

When she had awoken earlier in the day to discover herself wrapped tightly in Salvatore’s arms, she couldn’t deny she’d panicked.

It wasn’t shock at having so thoroughly enjoyed their night of passion. The man was a flat-out no-holds-barred expert in bed. Even now her body tingled in all the right places at the memory of his skillful touch.

No, it had been the realization that she had so easily forgotten that Salvatore was still little more than a stranger. A stranger that until a day ago she’d believed was her mortal enemy.

For all she knew, he was playing an elaborate game that was going to end with her dead. She’d be a fool to trust him because he happened to be good in the sack.

Besides, for the first time in her life she was…free.

There was no Caine with his dire warnings of what would happen to her if she dared to leave his protection. No curs to constantly monitor her every movement.

And with the amulet, not even Salvatore would be able to track her.

So she’d taken off.

Or at least, she’d tried to take off.

Stupidly, she hadn’t been able to shake the persistent uncertainty that plagued her as she had headed off to discover her long overdue destiny.

Salvatore claimed that her sisters, and even her mother, were alive. It could be a lie, of course. In fact, it probably was. Still, could she just walk away if there was the smallest chance of being reunited with the family she’d thought she’d lost forever?

Walking alone through the trees, she’d at last accepted that she would never be satisfied until she discovered the truth of her sisters. Her destiny had waited for thirty years. It could hold off a few more days.

So she’d turned around.

Watching the annoyingly beautiful man tie his shoes and collect his gun and dagger, Harley ignored the treacherous leap of her heart.

She was here to find her sisters.

That was the reason she’d returned.

The
only
reason.

It had absolutely, positively nothing to do with Salvatore Giuliani, King of Weres.

Busy reminding herself of that very pertinent fact, Harley was caught off guard when Salvatore whirled toward the trees behind him.

“Curs,” he hissed.

Belatedly catching the unmistakable smell, Harley tightened her grip on the gun. Dammit. The pack was already circling them.

They’d been so occupied with the near-death fight with the zombie Were that they hadn’t even noticed the approaching trouble.

“Just frigging perfect,” she muttered.

Salvatore cupped her chin in his hand, his expression fierce.

“Run.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

He growled in frustration. “Very soon we’re going to have a long conversation about the proper way of following orders.”

“Any conversation about following orders is going to be very short and will probably involve bloodshed.”

The golden light of his eyes flared, but before he could argue, two curs crashed into the clearing. Turning, Salvatore moved to stand directly before them, arrogantly confident despite the fact the two had already shifted into werewolves that were as large as ponies, and powerful enough to fill the air with a prickling heat.

Sensing another cur approaching behind them, Harley silently slid behind a tree, her gaze still trained on Salvatore as he held out a hand toward the curs. Even from a distance she could feel a painful pressure filling the clearing.

She didn’t have a clue what he was doing, but she suspected the curs weren’t going to be happy.

She was right.

With agonized whines the animals fell to the ground, their fur-covered bodies writhing. Still Salvatore continued to hold out his hand, his powerful compulsion hammering into the hapless curs.

Harley winced at the sound of bones popping. Somehow Salvatore was forcing the curs back to human form.

A painful process, if their howls were anything to go by.

Fascinated by the macabre spectacle, Harley nearly missed when the cur behind her began to move forward. Pressing herself to the tree, she shook her head in disgust as she recognized the man who was trying to sneak up behind Salvatore.

A red-headed, fiery-tempered cur, Frankie always had more brawn than brain.

And thankfully, that included ramming headlong into a battle without making sure he wasn’t about to be out-flanked.

Following silently in his wake, Harley pressed her gun to the back of his head.

“Hello, Frankie,” she murmured. “Miss me?”

With a foul curse, Frankie whirled around, murder in his eyes. “Bitch.”

Before he could guess her intent, Harley hit the idiot on his hard head with the butt of her gun, the force sending him sprawling onto the ground, knocked out cold.

“You have no idea.”

“Done playing?” Salvatore asked, a faint smile curving his lips.

Harley shrugged. “What now?”

“Now we leave.”

She waved her gun toward the unconscious curs. “What about the Three Stooges?”

“I don’t think they’ll be in the mood to follow us. At least not for a few hours.” He moved to grab her hand, tugging her through the trees.

“What did you do to them?”

“Just a little reminder that I’m their king.”

“Little?”

“They’re still alive, aren’t they?”

Harley grimaced. “I thought you didn’t have a God complex?”

He chuckled, lifting her hand to brush his lips over her knuckles.

“I don’t like to lose.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She pulled her hand from his grip, unable to concentrate when he was touching her. Or at least, she couldn’t concentrate on what she needed to concentrate on. Ripping off Salvatore’s clothes and taking the gorgeous Were in the bushes wasn’t going to help them escape. “So I assume that was the infamous Briggs?”

Salvatore’s smile widened, as if he could read her mind.

Jackass.

“A projection of him.”

Harley had heard of the trick, but she’d never encountered anyone with the magical power to perform it.

“He wasn’t really there?”

Salvatore knocked aside a dead tree leaning across the path, leading her down a steep hill covered with leaves and loose stones. Absolutely perfect for sliding down and breaking her fool neck.

“A portion of his essence was bound in the spell, but his physical form wasn’t present.”

“He felt solid enough.”

“
Si.
It’s the risky part of such a spell. Although he’s far away, he can allow his spirit to become a solid force. It gives him the ability to travel at will, but it also makes him vulnerable to attack.”

“Then he was injured?”

“His physical body carries the wounds he suffered in spirit form.”

Satisfaction flared through her heart. She hated to waste a perfectly good bullet.

“I’m glad.”

Salvatore’s soft chuckle brushed over her skin. “My sentiments exactly.” Pausing, the Were sniffed the air. Then seeming to come to a decision, he continued down the hill. “This way.”

“The river?” she muttered.

“Curs hate water.”

Harley licked her suddenly dry lips. “So do Weres.”

“Which means the last thing they’ll expect is for us to travel by boat,” Salvatore pointed out, stepping through the last of the trees.

Harley’s steps faltered as she realized that Salvatore had led them directly to a small wooden dock where a shiny new speedboat was moored.

Damn.

Like any sane Were, she hated the water.

No, it was more than just hate.

She was
terrified
of water.

There was no rhyme or reason to her fear. It wasn’t as if she could drown. And as far as she knew, she’d never had a childhood trauma that included water.

She only knew that the only good water was the kind that came out of a showerhead and then disappeared down a drain.

“You also claimed that they wouldn’t be able to find us if we were wearing the amulets,” she accused, biting her bottom lip as Salvatore nimbly leapt into the boat, and with a tiny surge of his power, had the motor running.

He glanced back to watch her far more cautious approach, his golden eyes sparkling with rueful amusement.

“Why did I know you would throw that in my face?”

“Do you want to be in the middle of a raging river when that demented Briggs attacks again?”

He paused, easily sensing her tension. “You’re scared of the water.”

Grudgingly she moved down the dock, climbing into the boat with an awkward stiffness.

“I’m not scared. I’m…”

“You’re?”

“Naturally cautious.” The boat rocked and Harley hastily dropped onto the padded seat next to Salvatore. “Have you even driven a boat before?”

He shrugged, reaching over to untie the line. “How hard can it be?”

Harley popped to her feet, her heart stuck in her throat. “No way.”

Salvatore pushed her firmly back into her seat, then before she could protest, he was pulling away from the dock and gunning the boat through the water.

“Don’t worry, Harley,” he said over the roar of the motor. “I’m not going to turn us over.”