Darkness Unleashed (10 page)

“What am I?” Levet threw his hands in the air. “Chopped gall bladder?”

Jagr narrowed his gaze, in no mood for the annoying gargoyle. “What?”

“I think he means liver,” Regan wryly translated. “Chopped liver.”

“Gall bladder, liver…whatever.” Levet puffed out his chest. “I am a magic-user. What could a witch do that I can’t?”

“Track the curs? Weave an enchantment to hide our own presence? Ward this cave from intrusion?” Jagr smoothly pointed out.

“Bah, I will find the curs, and if you want an enchantment…” The tiny gargoyle lifted his hands.

“No,” Jagr and Salvatore bellowed at the same time.

“Fine.” With a twitch of his tail, Levet was marching down the steep bluff. “You want curs, I’ll find you curs.”

Regan spread her annoyed glare between both Jagr and Salvatore as she called out softly.

“Levet.”

With a stiff dignity, Levet turned to face her. “
Oui
?”

“Please, be careful.”

The ugly features softened. “For you,
ma cherie
, I will take the greatest care. Be assured that I will return in magnificent, vigorous, and virile health.”

Jagr swallowed his urge to snarl. “You can return any way you want, but we won’t be here. We have to find a new lair.”

“Do not fear, I will find you.”

“That was my fear,” Jagr muttered.

Levet blew a raspberry in Jagr’s direction before continuing down the slope.

“That creature is an embarrassment to gargoyles everywhere,” Salvatore said with a shake of his head.

For once, Jagr could actually agree with the Were.

Not that he was about to admit as much.

Especially not when he could smell Salvatore’s henchmen approaching.

The two curs appeared from the woods behind the cave, a matching expression of frustration on their faces.

“We followed their footprints to the river, then they disappeared,” the larger, bald-headed Hess grudgingly confessed. “We searched the area, but there was no sign of them.”

Jagr clenched his fists in annoyance. He didn’t like being taunted by a pack of worthless dogs.

“They can’t have gone far.”

“No, but without a scent we’re incapable of hunting them.” Salvatore gestured toward his companions. “There’s nothing more to be done here. I will return as soon as possible.”

Jagr didn’t attempt to halt Salvatore as he disappeared into the surrounding shadows. What good was the Were if he couldn’t track the curs?

Besides, having two alpha predators in the same territory was never a good idea. Jagr doubted that Styx would be pleased to learn one of his vampires had the pelt of the King of Weres nailed to the wall of his lair.

“Well, this is going just peachy,” Regan muttered, her damp hair fluttering like strands of silver in the night breeze. “Christ. All I wanted was to find Culligan and kill him, not get mixed up in some stupid war between the curs and the Weres.”

Jagr reached out to capture one of the silky strands, his expression somber.

“You would be safe in Chicago, Regan. Not even this Caine and his renegade pack of curs would be suicidal enough to attack a vampire stronghold.”

“A really stupendous idea if I wanted to be buried alive,” she mocked. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not exchanging one prison for another.”

He gave a tug on her hair. “You would be an honored guest, never a prisoner.”

“Oh, I’m sure my cell would be something out of the latest episode of
Cribs
, and my guards would be oh so kind while they explained why it was too dangerous for me to go out alone, or spend a weekend in Vegas.”

His brows lifted. “You have a particular desire to visit Las Vegas?”

“I have a particular desire to go where I want, when I want, without asking for permission.”

Jagr considered his words as his fingers shifted to brush down the seductive line of her throat. What could he say? There was no way in hell that Styx would allow Regan to come and go as she pleased. At least not as long as there was any threat to her.

Styx was by nature a control freak, and while Darcy had gone a long way to soften his rigid instincts, he couldn’t change centuries of habit overnight.

“Even if it puts you in danger?” he at last demanded.

“Yes.”

“Independence is one thing, Regan, and stubborn foolishness another.”

“Do you live under the roof of the Anasso?” she challenged.

His fingers lingered on the pulse at the base of her throat, the rush of her blood teasing his senses with sweet temptation.

“I have a private lair, but I owe fealty to the Anasso, as well as Viper,” he murmured, unwittingly lowering his head to drink in her intoxicating scent.

Her pulse leaped beneath his fingertips.

“Viper?” she rasped.

“Clan chief of Chicago. When either commands my service, I must obey.”

“Like coming to Hannibal to collect a dysfunctional Were?”

His lips twitched. “Yes.”

She sucked in a shuddering breath, as conscious as Jagr of the potent awareness that jolted between them.

“Why give them such power?”

Abruptly realizing his fingers had drifted to the distracting fullness of her lips, Jagr dropped his hand and stepped away.

What the devil was he doing? His highly honed senses might assure him that there were no dangers in the area, but that didn’t mean they weren’t sitting targets.

Where was his ruthless self-discipline? His icy logic? His barren disinterest in others?

When it came to Regan, he was as easily distracted as a dew fairy high on honey.

“A vampire without a clan is always seen as a threat,” he retorted, taking her arm to steer back through the narrow entrance into the cave. “My only hope for a measure of peace was to find a chief who controlled a stable clan with no thirst for war. Nothing is without cost. Even freedom.”

Shaking off his hand, Regan folded her arms over her chest and dug in her heels.

“Well, I’m not willing to become a pampered hostage to my sister in exchange for safety. I’d rather take my chances with the curs.”

His lips twisted at her predictable response. “Hardly a logical decision.”

“I don’t want to be logical. I want to find Culligan and kill him. Speaking of which…”

With a blur of speed, Jagr had moved to block the opening. “Wait, little one.”

A frustration that Jagr fully appreciated tightened her beautiful features.

“Now what?”

“Unless you want to leave behind your clothes, you will need to take them with us. We can’t risk returning here.”

“Why bother finding a new lair? They’ll just track us down again.”

“Trust me.”

Emerald eyes sparked with irritation at his command for her blind faith, but astonishingly, she spun on her heel and marched toward the back of the cave rather than try to rip out his heart.

Jagr wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or terrified as he followed in her stormy wake.

In silence, she gathered the bags that were so obviously precious to her, stoically ignoring Jagr as he placed his own belongings into the leather satchel he’d brought from Chicago.

Tossing it over his shoulder, he moved to halt Regan as she reached for the rumpled clothes he’d peeled from her delectable body such a short time ago.

“Leave a few behind.”

Her brows snapped together. “Why?”

“I thought you were going to trust me.”

I thought you were going to trust me…

Regan clutched the stuffed bags to her chest, her jaw clenched at Jagr’s soft words.

She wanted to laugh at his words.

She’d spent thirty years being tormented, betrayed, and abused by everyone she had ever known. Now, a lethal vampire she’d met only days ago wanted her to blithely put her life in his hands?

Yeah, right.

So…why wasn’t she laughing?

Maybe because her every instinct told her that Jagr would do everything in his power to keep her safe.

Whether out of fear his Anasso would mount him on the wall of his throne room or for some more personal reason was impossible to say.

“Here.” Reading her conflicting emotions with annoying ease, Jagr moved forward, holding out a silver box in an obvious effort to distract her.

It worked.

Her eyes widened as she took Culligan’s private safe. “I dropped this when you went juggernaut and launched us through the back of the RV.” She met his searching gaze. “How’d you get it?”

“I had Levet retrieve it. There are papers in the bottom we haven’t looked through yet.”

“You think they might be important?”

“We can only hope.”

Contemplating what papers Culligan could possibly have that he considered worth keeping, Regan lowered her guard. A stupid mistake. Before she could blink she found herself hauled off her feet and firmly cradled against his chest.

Damn vampire speed.

“What are you doing?” she hissed, cursing the bulky bags and metal safe that tangled her arms and made it impossible to struggle. “Put me down.”

He ignored her command (big freaking surprise), moving with fluid ease across the cave.

“We can’t be sure that the explosion wasn’t a ruse to draw you out of the cave. We’ll have to sneak out.”

She held herself stiffly, vividly aware of the cool power washing over her skin. Dammit, she wanted to be furious, not…aroused.

“And if the curs are out there?” she snapped. “Won’t they sense us?”

He shrugged, the long hair he’d left free to frame the haunting beauty of his lean face flowing down his back like liquid gold.

“Salvatore was mocking, but Caine has reason to resent the Weres,” he said softly. “Unless a cur has fully shifted, their senses are not equal to most demons. Our scents are already spread through the area, so unless they actually see us leave the cave they won’t know we’ve slipped beneath their noses.”

“Oh.” She abruptly felt like an idiot. “That’s why you made me leave the clothes behind.”

“They should keep your scent lingering for days.”

“Fine, Mr. Smarty Pants…”

“Mr. Smarty Pants?”

She ignored his interruption. “If they’re actually watching the cave, then how are we supposed to leave without being seen? Unlike you, I can’t wrap myself in shadows.”

He paused at the entrance of the cave, an almost smile hovering around his lips.

“You can as long as you stay close to me. Hold still.”

Regan frowned.

Well, hell.

Was there anything vampires couldn’t do?

Walk on water? Unlock the secret of cold fusion?

Create world peace?

Her annoyance at the injustice of vampires’ position at the top of the demon-world was forgotten as she suddenly felt like she’d been dipped in an icy pool of water.

She sucked in a sharp breath.

This wasn’t the cool surge of Jagr’s power.

“Holy crap, what are you doing?” she demanded with a shiver. “I’m freezing.”

“I’ve wrapped you in my shadows. They will hide us from prying eyes, but not from prying ears.” Before she could guess his intention, he bent downward to place his lips against hers. “Not a word, little one.”

Sadie smiled as she watched the expensive Humvee being consumed by flames. Standing several blocks away on the roof of a restaurant that had once been a bordello, she had a perfect view to watch Salvatore leave the cave with his neutered curs scurrying behind him.

Sniffling, spineless dogs.

Their blind subservience to the self-proclaimed King of Weres sickened her. Why didn’t they just put a leash around their neck, and be done with it?

Of course, they had managed to lead her to where Regan was hidden with the vamp, so perhaps they weren’t entirely useless.

Her smile widened as she leaned against the decorative brick wall that lined the rooftop.

“I do love a roaring bonfire. A pity I forgot to bring the marshmallows.”

Standing at her side, Duncan growled with impatience. “Did you also forget to bring a point for this little exercise in futility?”

“Careful, Duncan.” Sophie slid her companion a warning frown. “So far you’ve proven to be as incompetent as you are spineless. Twice now you’ve allowed our quarry to slip through your fingers.”

Duncan’s jaw tightened, his pride obviously still pricked at having been bested by the young, untrained woman.

Again.

“At least I’ve had her in my fingers. Which is more than you can say.”

“Only because I was stupid enough to assume my merry band of morons could manage to capture one little Were.” Sadie shrugged. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

An ugly smile twisted his lips. “Oh, no, you’ve done much better. Now we not only have the most dangerous vampire in the entire world hunting our sorry hides, but you’ve managed to piss off the King of Weres. A real bang-up job.”

Sadie bit back her snarl. It had been an unpleasant shock when the unmistakable scent of Salvatore had invaded her territory. Caine had sworn that the king had no interest in Regan, and wouldn’t so much as lift a finger to help her.

Easy for him to say when he was safely hidden miles away.

Bastard.

And to top it off, she’d followed the scent of the curs to the cave, only to discover that not only was Regan being guarded by a vampire, the King of Weres, and his curs, but there was a damned gargoyle in residence.

A lesser woman would have thrown in the towel. Sadie, however, had always been able to think on her feet, and it had taken only a moment to devise yet another brilliant plan.

“Pissed off or not, I’ve managed to separate Regan from the Weres, as well as the gargoyle,” she pointed out, her annoyance easing as she smugly turned her attention back to the fire below.

Duncan snorted. “That still leaves the vampire.”

Fear skittered down her spine. God, she hated vampires. Bloodthirsty beasts.

“He can be dealt with,” she muttered.

Duncan’s short, ugly laugh set her teeth on edge. “So you’re not only arrogant, you’re delusional?”

“What I am is smart enough to have a plan.”

“So did the wolf in the
Three Little Pigs
, and you know how that worked out.”

Sophie curled her lips. “What are you, twelve?”

“Just tell me this brilliant plan.”

Reaching into the pocket of her leather duster, Sophie pulled out a small flask and screwed off the lid.

“Culligan was kind enough to donate his blood to our cause.”

Never the sharpest tool in the shed, Duncan scowled in confusion.

“Not that I’m opposed to draining the nasty imp, but what good is his blood?”

Sophie waved the flask beneath his nose. “Such a poignant, fruity scent. Quite unique.”

“Yeah, Calvin Klein should bottle it for his fall collection.”

She chuckled in anticipation. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Just tell me what the hell you’re going to do with it.”

“I’ve at last found a use for you outside my bed.” With a casual motion, Sophie dumped half the blood onto the cur’s silk shirt. “Congratulations, Duncan, you’ve just been promoted to bait.”

Jumping back, Duncan stared at his stained shirt in fury. “What the hell?”

With an efficient motion, Sophie closed the flask and tucked it back into her pocket. She would need the rest of the blood to lure Regan into her trap.

“Circle around the gargoyle and let him catch a scent of Culligan’s blood. Once he’s on your trail, lead him away from here,” she commanded. “Without his ability to sense magic, the vamp and Regan will be powerless to find us.”

“Lead him where?”

“I don’t give a shit, you idiot. Just away from here.”

Duncan’s eyes glittered with fury. “And what are you going to do?”

She turned back toward the bluff. She’d ordered two of her curs to keep watch on the cave from the woods behind the entrance, but she needed to find a closer position to set her trap.

“I’m going to wait for the sun to rise.”

Without warning, Duncan was standing at her side, his head bent to whisper directly in her ear.

“A small warning, Sadie,” he growled softly. “The early cur doesn’t get the worm…she gets eaten by the big bad vampire.”

A spike of unease tightened her stomach before she pushed him away with a violent burst of temper.

“Just go, Duncan. And try not to screw this up.”

Ignoring the warning glow in her eyes, Duncan swaggered across the roof, and with one motion leaped over the low wall. She heard the faint scrape of his landing in the alley behind the building, followed by the fading sound of footsteps.

Waging war against the instinct to shift, Sadie clenched her teeth and dug her nails into the palms of her hands. It was a futile effort, of course.

Unlike purebloods, a cur was always at the mercy of their nature. Once they reached a critical point, there was no halting the transformation.

“You owe me, Caine,” she swore on a low growl. “You owe me big.”

With an effort that should earn her sainthood, Regan managed to hold her tongue as Jagr streaked through the darkness. His blinding speed (not to mention the icy shadows he’d wrapped around them) made her eyes water and her lungs struggle to function properly.

It was impossible to believe that anything lacking jet propulsion could be capable of following them, but Jagr clearly wasn’t in the mood to take any chances, and she wasn’t overly anxious to distract him while he charged across the empty fields at sonic speed.

Still, her patience wasn’t endless. As ten minutes became twenty, Regan had had enough.

They were miles from Hannibal.

Hell, they were miles from anything resembling civilization.

“Hey, Sacagawea, I didn’t sign up for the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Where are we going?” she demanded, her teeth clenched to keep them from chattering.

“North.”

Smart ass.

“Yeah, I got that much.” She forced her gaze from the empty fairgrounds they were passing to the austere beauty of his face. Her heart skipped a familiar beat. “Why don’t we just go back to one of the hotels? There’re two of them that not only have our scent all over them, but come complete with a bed and hot shower.”

“A hotel is too easily surrounded.” Jagr slowed his pace, his eyes shimmering like sapphires in the darkness. “And along with the bed and shower come very large windows that are perfect for allowing in the morning sunlight.”

“Seems like a reasonable price to pay,” she muttered, aggravated by the insistent, merciless awareness that refused to leave her in peace.

A ghost of a smile played about his lips. The bastard knew precisely the effect he had on her treacherous body.

“You would miss me if I were reduced to a tiny pile of ash.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think you might look good in shades of gray.”

“Harsh, little one,” he chastised. “Your manners leave a great deal to be desired.”

“As if yours are any better?”

“Obviously, we deserve one another.”

Her heart didn’t skip this time. It came to a complete, perfect stop.

We deserve one another…

The words were harmless, nothing more than a casual joke. But there was nothing amusing in the poignant longing that flooded her heart.

“Not freaking likely.” She squirmed in his arms, suddenly more afraid of the sensations jolting through her body than being dropped. “I’m freezing. Put me down.”

Miraculously, Jagr came to a halt and gently lowered her to her feet. Not that she believed for a moment he was actually following orders. She wasn’t
that
stupid.

A rabid tiger would be more likely to dance the rumba.

Obviously it suited his purpose to stand in an empty field, staring at the large, abandoned building. A building that looked as if it could be some sort of creepy asylum.

A suspicion that became absolute certainty when Jagr tilted back his head as if testing the air.

“Remain close to my side,” he muttered.

Regan rubbed her arms, as much from the brittle tension radiating from Jagr as from the chill still clinging to her skin.

“You think the curs are chasing us?”

His gaze continued to scan the darkness. “There’s always a possibility that we’ve been followed, but I’m more concerned with the vampire who has a lair in the area. I wouldn’t want any misunderstandings by bringing a Were into his territory.”

Regan stiffened in wariness. Another vampire? Just what she needed.

“There’s a clan here?”

“No. Tane has no connection to a clan, although he no doubt has a number of guards with him. He’s a Charon.”

“A Charon.” She shook her head, dredging up the little Greek mythology she’d read. “You mean a ferryman?”

“Not quite.” His expression had settled into those cold, remote lines that always meant trouble. “A vampire assassin.”

Well, this just got better and better.

“Just to clarify, does that mean he’s a vampire who happens to be an assassin, or that he’s an assassin who kills vampires?”

“He hunts vampires.”

“He’s some sort of cannibal, and you intend to invade his territory? Are you nuts?”

“Tane’s not a cannibal. He’s a part of an elite group of warriors that Styx founded long before he became the Anasso, their sole purpose being to destroy those vampires who have become unstable.”

“Unstable?”

“It’s rare, but not unknown.”

Regan shuddered. The thought of a powerful, predatory vampire becoming unhinged wasn’t a pretty one.

Actually it was downright terrifying.

“Should I ask?”

His expression was grim. “No.”