Darkness Avenged (Guardians of Eternity) (21 page)

Styx’s gaze transferred to Roke. “And that’s when you mated?”

“I didn’t notice the bonding until the initial spell was broken.” Roke’s grip tightened on his companion’s slender shoulder. “Or at least, when Sally claims it was broken.”

With an impatient gesture, Sally lifted her arm, waving the crimson marking beneath his nose.

“You think that if there was a way to get rid of this I would hesitate for even a heartbeat?” she squawked. “The last thing I want is to be tied to a leech.”

Roke stiffened as her accusation sent a stab of anger through his heart. As if he were . . . what? Upset by her fierce rejection of their bonding? She was only saying what was exactly on his mind, wasn’t she?

Thankfully his ridiculous broodings were interrupted by Styx.

“You didn’t exchange blood?”

Roke shook his head, refusing to acknowledge the ruthless hunger that had plagued him since Sally had trapped him in her spell. “No.”

“Strange.” Styx pushed away from the desk, stepping toward Sally. “You have no idea what demon blood runs in your veins?”

“None.”

“Your magic interferes with my senses. Perhaps your blood . . .” Styx’s words were bitten off as Roke abruptly shoved Sally behind his rigid body, his lips peeled back to emphasize his fully exposed fangs. “Shit, Roke,” the ancient vampire muttered.

“You’re not tasting her blood,” he snarled.

Styx scowled, the icy throb of his power warning Roke who was in charge.

“Unless we discover what kind of demon she is, we won’t know how this happened.” He allowed a strategic pause. “Or if it can be reversed.”

Roke refused to back down. “No one takes her blood but me.”

“Hey,” Sally protested, kicking Roke on the back of his leg.

The two men ignored her.

“No way,” Styx snapped. “For now we can hope this is the result of her demon powers. If you take her blood—”

“No one’s taking my blood—are we clear on that?” Sally again intruded into their conversation, this time giving Roke a punch to the arm.

Styx arched a startled brow as he glanced toward the furious witch. “She’s feisty for such a little thing.”

“She’s a pain in the ass,” Roke muttered.

She growled. Not an animal growl. But an I’m-so-pissed-I-could-kill-you growl. “Someday I’m truly going to turn you into a newt,” she threatened Roke.

Without warning Styx tilted back his head to laugh with genuine amusement. “I’d go for a cave troll if I were you,” he informed the astonished Sally. “His vanity could use a few warts.”

Roke glared at his king. Traitor. “I’m glad you can find humor in this.”

Styx shrugged. “Imagine my reaction when I found myself mated to a pure-blooded Were.”

An emotion he refused to identify darted through Roke at the thought of this powerful vampire with Darcy. There was no mistaking the fact that the two adored one another and had no embarrassment in displaying their love whenever they were together.

Not that he wanted that sort of mating, he hastily reassured himself. His heart and loyalty belonged to his clan.

“It’s not the same,” he said roughly.

“No, I don’t suppose it is.” With a grimace Styx reached to grasp Roke’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, my brother, we’ll figure this out.”

Roke avoided glancing at the woman who had turned his life upside down. “We damned well better,” he muttered.

There was an awkward silence as Roke felt Sally take a deliberate step away, shaking off his clinging hand.

“Now tell me about this book,” Styx commanded.

Resisting the urge to wrap his arm around the female and tuck her back against his side, Roke rigidly concentrated on Styx’s abrupt change in conversation.

“It was hidden in a safe that was bricked over in an abandoned warehouse ten miles north of here.”

Styx nodded, not bothering to ask how Roke had managed to knock through the bricks to expose the safe. “And why do we need a witch?”

“Because it’s protected by black magic,” Sally answered. “Deadly to anyone foolish enough to touch it.”

Styx curled his lips in the typical vampire reaction to magic. “Can you get rid of it?”

Sally hesitated before giving a wary nod. “I think so, but the magic was more potent than any I’ve tried to deal with before. It will take time and specific ingredients to prepare a counterspell with enough punch to break through.”

Styx was speaking before Roke could protest. “Darcy will get what you need.”

“Fine, but I’m not returning to the dungeons,” she warned. “If you want my help, then you can’t treat me like a prisoner.”

The Anasso studied her with a narrowed gaze. “I have your word that you won’t try to escape?”

She blinked in surprise. “You trust the word of a witch?”

“Do I have your word?” Styx repeated, his voice as hard as granite.

Sally shrugged, lifting her arm to reveal the mating mark. “I swear I’m not leaving until you get rid of this. Good enough?”

Styx gave a rueful nod. “Good enough. You’ll find Darcy in the kitchen. Just tell her what you need.”

Clearly thinking it had to be a trap, the tiny witch backed her way out of the door, never taking her gaze off the massive Aztec warrior.

Roke watched her wary departure with gritted teeth, telling himself to let her go. The more space between them the better.

But the instant she was out of sight, his good intentions shattered. With a muttered curse he was heading out of the room, catching his fleeing prey just as she was turning the corner.

“Sally.”

Coming to a grudging halt, the witch turned to send him a sullen frown. “What do you want? I already gave my word I wouldn’t escape.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, grabbing her wrist to study the delicate tattoo with a brooding gaze. Mate. “There’s nowhere in the world you could go where I wouldn’t find you.”

It took a minute for her to realize that their connection meant he would always know where she was. Hell, he would know what she was feeling, and if he truly concentrated, he would know what she was doing.

The blush faded to a sickly white, her eyes velvet dark. “Then what do you want?”

Want? His fangs lengthened. What he wanted was to yank her into his arms and sink his aching fangs deep into her throat. His body wasn’t conflicted. It accepted this woman was now his and it wanted to indulge in all the benefits of a mate.

But, Styx was right, as much as he hated to agree with the oversized mother hen.

Besides, he had a more pressing reason for charging after her.

“Is this spell dangerous?”

“It can be if I make a mistake in mixing the ingredients or when I cast the actual spell.” She frowned, clearly baffled by his question. “But you don’t have to worry, I’ll create a protective circle before I begin. You won’t be in any danger.”

He took a step forward, standing close enough to be drenched in her peach-scented warmth. “And you?”

She licked her dry lips. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s simple. Will you be at risk?”

“The caster is always at risk. Why?”

His thumb rubbed her inner wrist, lingering on the feel of her racing pulse as his gaze rested on her damp lips.

Oh . . . hell.

He was in trouble.

Ass-deep, never-be-the-same-again trouble.

“For better or worse you’re my mate,” he rasped.

“So . . .” Her eyes widened in sudden horror. “Oh. Do vampires die if something happens to their mates?”

He shuddered, unable to even imagine the devastating sense of loss.

“No, but I’ll wish I was dead.”

 

Nefri ignored Santiago’s bristling annoyance as she stepped toward the small female demon.

“Yannah. Did your mother send you?”

Yannah gave a sniff, waving her hand toward the scowling vampire and sulking gargoyle. “I’m not allowed to say in front of them.”

“Ah.” Nefri wisely hid her smile as she pointed toward the small copse of trees. “Perhaps we can step over here?”

Santiago made a strangled sound. “Nefri, we don’t have time for this.”

Yannah widened her black eyes, the heavy pressure of her magic beginning to swirl through the air. “I’m a messenger from the Commission,” she announced. “Everyone has time for me.”

Without warning Levet tossed his hands in the air. “There. You see? How is a man supposed to live with such a bossy creature?”

Nefri sent a warning glance toward Santiago, who had a sudden glint of amusement in his eyes. “Careful.”

“Hey, I’m not saying a word,” he said, an exaggerated expression of innocence on his handsome face.

“Good choice,” she murmured, turning back to the female demon. “Shall we, Yannah?”

Together they moved over the uneven ground, not halting until they were far enough away to avoid being overheard by even a vampire.

“Why must men be so difficult?” Yannah abruptly burst out.

“I have come to the conclusion it’s a genetic defect of males,” Nefri consoled her companion. “That would explain why their numerous faults appear to include all species.”

Yannah gave a slow nod. “That makes sense.”

There was a moment of silence as they pondered the oddity of the male gender, and then Nefri was giving a shake of her head. “I believe you have a message for me.”

“Oh. Yes.” Yannah smoothed tiny hands down her white robe. “My mother says ‘That which was lost is found again.’”

Nefri remained silent, waiting for the rest of the message. At least until she realized that Yannah was staring at her with an expectant expression.

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“But . . .” Nefri frowned. “I don’t understand. What was lost?”

“How should I know?” Yannah gave an impatient wave of her hand. “I’m just the messenger.”

Nefri was careful to keep her expression devoid of her stab of frustration. Yannah might appear to be a child, but she had enough power to destroy them all.

“Very well. Thank you, Yannah.” She offered a small bow. “I will be sure to tell Siljar that you performed your task with honor.”

“I must return.” Yannah glanced toward the two men who stood in stiff silence. “You’ll keep him safe?”

Nefri nodded, sensing Yannah’s concern was genuine, despite her enjoyment in nagging the small gargoyle. “I will do everything in my power to make certain he isn’t harmed,” she promised softly.

“Thank you.”

With a last, longing glance at Levet, the small demon abruptly disappeared, leaving behind the scent of brimstone.

Nefri gave a faint shake of her head and slowly returned to her companions.

Why on earth had Siljar sent her daughter to share such a vague message? It wasn’t as if she could actually use it to her advantage. Not when she didn’t have a clue what it meant.

Instinctively moving to stand beside Santiago, Nefri was prepared for Levet’s scowl as he realized she was alone.

“Where did Yannah go?”

“She had to return to the Commission,” Nefri said in distracted tones.

“Hmmph. Typical,” the gargoyle muttered, his wings drooping in the moonlight. “She comes here to pick a fight and then just disappears when she realizes I’m winning.”

Ignoring the grouchy Levet, Santiago reached to tuck Nefri’s hair behind her ear as he studied her with a worried gaze. “What did she say?”

“She said, ‘That which was lost is found again.’”

Santiago was predictably unimpressed. “What was found?”

Nefri grimaced. “That was the message.”

“The entire message?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what it means?”

Nefri shrugged. “I don’t have a clue.”

“Fantastic,” Santiago growled. “So are we supposed to wait around for the Oracles?”

Nefri didn’t hesitate. With every passing minute the danger to the world increased. “No. We need to find Gaius.”

Santiago studied her with a searching gaze. “And then?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” she admitted. Siljar had demanded that Gaius be captured, but Nefri wasn’t going to sacrifice Santiago. If push came to shove she would kill her former clansman, and she would do it without hesitation. “But he has to be stopped.”

Santiago nodded. “Yes.”

Their gazes held as they silently shared their growing concern, then the moment was interrupted as Levet pressed his face against her leg to sniff her jeans.

“Why do you smell like dragon?”

With a low growl, Santiago leaned down to grab the gargoyle by his stunted horn, pulling him away from Nefri as if he was jealous of the tiny creature. “Does he have to come?” he demanded.

She gave a firm nod. “Yes.”

Levet yanked free of Santiago’s grasp, glaring at the male vampire. “What is the matter with you?”

Santiago scowled. “Do you have to ask?”

“Hey.” Levet gave a sharp flap of his wings. “It is supposed to be farts before tarts.”

“What the—” Santiago made a sound of disgust. “Oh, for god’s sake, it’s ‘bros before hos.’”

“That is not very polite,” Levet protested in shocked tones, his gaze moving to Nefri. “Forgive his crassness,
ma belle
.”

“I do my best,” she assured the gargoyle.

“I need to call Styx and update him,” Santiago muttered, digging his phone out of his front pocket. “I’ll meet you at the truck.”

She sent him an overly innocent smile. “If you insist.”

“Oh, I insist.”

With a light touch on Levet’s wing, she steered him toward the rugged path that eventually would lead to the truck parked in the foothills. As much as she enjoyed watching the tiny gargoyle drive Santiago nuts, she didn’t want him pressing his luck.

Poking at an angry male vampire was never a good idea.

“Come along, Levet.”

They’d left the meadow and were traveling down the narrow path when Levet returned to his previous question. “You were with a dragon?”

“We were.” She grimaced, wishing the powerful beast had offered more than vague warnings. “He revealed this spirit that we’re tracking might be the creator of vampires.”

The gray eyes widened in shock. “Truly?”

“Yes.”

“That sounds . . .” Levet shuddered in horror. “
Sacrebleu,
I do not even have the words.”

Nefri gave a slow nod. “My thoughts exactly.”

 

 

Even driving like a bat out of hell (a rather appropriate metaphor for a vampire), Santiago was forced to accept that they weren’t going to reach Gaius.

They could have ditched the truck and moved faster on foot, but expending that much energy would have meant facing the vampire and a potential god of vampires when they were at their weakest.

Santiago was impulsive, but he wasn’t suicidal.

Seeming to come to the same conclusion, Nefri sent him a questioning glance over the head of the ridiculous gargoyle who was perched between them. “Can you sense him?”

“He’s still north of us.” Santiago grimaced. “Close, but too far to pinpoint before dawn.”

She nodded. “We should find a place to rest for the day.”

“Oui.”
Levet abruptly seemed to come awake, bouncing up and down on the seat. “Finding caves is my specialty.”

Santiago shuddered. Twelve hours stuck in a damp cave with this aggravating gargoyle? No way in hell.

Which was exactly why he’d chosen this particular route. Thank the gods.

“Actually Viper has a club not far from here.”

Nefri blinked, as if surprised by his claim. “Another club?”

“He has a dozen or more.” Santiago shrugged. “Some higher rent than others.”

Her brows drew together, no doubt expecting the usual offering of blood, sex, and violence. “And this one?”

“The Summerset Club is one of the more elegant establishments.” He sent her a wry grin. “Not one cage or orgy to be found.”

He expected a responding smile; instead Nefri studied him with an oddly searching gaze.

“Does it bother you?”

“Orgies?” He gave a teasing waggle of his brows. Not that he’d ever been into public displays. And now . . . he couldn’t imagine being intimate with any female but Nefri in public or private. “Not at all.”

She refused to be distracted. “The fighting.”

He knew what she meant. After spending centuries fighting for his life on a nightly basis, no one had been more shocked than he was when Viper suggested that he manage a club renowned for its cage matches.

But after spending time in the club, he finally realized it was exactly what he needed.

“Just the opposite,” he admitted, slowing the truck to take the off-ramp. “It’s cathartic.”

She cast a brief glance around the cornfields before returning her attention to him. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m in control now,” he explained. “That means only demons 100 percent willing can enter the cages, and those who try to force a fighter into the matches answer to me. I can also make sure that the opponents are evenly matched and that the battle is ended before irreparable damage can be done.” He took another turn onto a gravel road. “There’s also a strict policy against masos.”

“Masos?” she asked.

It was Levet who answered with a wrinkle of his snout. “A demon who gets off on pain,
ma belle
.”

She frowned. “Why do you care if they enjoy being hurt?”

He offered a wicked smile. “Pleasurable pain is an extra charge.”

She stiffened in distaste. “Charming.”

“To each his own,” he murmured.

“I suppose.”

Santiago slowed to a mere crawl, his senses on high alert. For most people this deserted path several miles south of Iowa City would have seemed like a road to nowhere, but he was well aware that there lurked a number of nasty surprises for those who dared to trespass.

The Summerset Club was one of Viper’s more exclusive establishments and was guarded with better surveillance than Area 51.

Of course, he’d been a part of Viper’s inner circle long enough that even the lowest ranking vampires would easily recognize him. He hoped that there wouldn’t be any trouble passing through the hidden checkpoints.

He turned twice more before they arrived at the manicured parkland that surrounded the sprawling colonial building.

Painted white with black shutters, the central double door was flanked by high, arched windows and a wide porch with fluted columns. The roof was low-pitched with a balustrade that connected the two long wings to the central house.

Pulling the truck to a halt at the side drive, he shut off the engine. One of the flunkies would move it later.

“This is it.”

They crawled out of the truck and headed toward the door. Or at least, Santiago and Nefri headed that way.

The ridiculous gargoyle hovered on the drive.

“Levet?” Nefri murmured.

“I should try to contact Yannah,” the gargoyle said, his tone indicating that he wasn’t overly eager to confront the female. “I will return at nightfall.”

“No need to hurry back on my account,” Santiago muttered.

Levet sniffed, pointing a claw toward Santiago. “You should take lessons in how to treat a hero.”

“I’ll show you how I—”

“Santiago.” Nefri grabbed his arm, her attention remaining on the three-foot pest. “We’ll see you at dusk.”

Levet gave a dip of his head.
“Bon.”
With a flap of his fairy wings, the creature was taking off, no doubt making the surrounding guards wonder if they were hallucinating.

Santiago gave a shake of his head. “Why do you encourage him?”

“He truly is a hero.”

Yeah. And wasn’t that a kick in the fangs?

“Don’t remind me.”

“Well, well, look what the cat dragged in,” a smooth male voice with a distinct English accent drawled from the side door. “Did you slip Viper’s leash?”

Santiago jerked around to glare at the tall, slender vampire with light brown hair that was cut short on the sides and layered on top to lay with glossy perfection. His face was chiseled with an austere beauty that Santiago considered arrogant but the females seemed to find enthralling. His eyes were so dark a blue they looked black from a distance and usually shimmered with a wicked amusement that disguised his razor-sharp intelligence.

As always, he presented the image of the ultimate gentleman. Elegant, perfectly polished. And attired in a black Armani tuxedo that cost more than Santiago had spent in the past century on his clothes.

With a roll of his eyes, Santiago climbed the steps to stand face to face with the vampire he’d known since his days in the pits.

He wasn’t the only Gladiator who Styx had rescued.

“Gabriel. We need rooms.”

“Of course.” The vampire’s gaze shifted over Santiago’s shoulder, an expression of male appreciation settling on his face. “Is this your latest? Nice. Very nice.”

“Watch it,” Santiago snapped, plagued with a sudden desire to rip out those blue peepers. “This is clan chief Nefri.”

The hint of sexual invitation was abruptly replaced with a bone-deep reverence as the older vampire performed a smooth bow. “My lady, forgive me.”

“Please,” Nefri murmured softly, moving to stand at Santiago’s side, “call me Nefri.”

“You’ve honored my humble establishment.” Straightening, Gabriel waved a hand toward the open door. “Please follow me.”