GOE 08 - Bound By Darkness

Chapter 13

Santiago shuddered as the King of Weres’ power blasted through the air. The mangy mutt wasn’t pleased that a pack of traitors had managed to waltz through his wine cellars without his knowledge.

Dios.

He’d known Salvatore was the top dog, but he hadn’t realized just what that meant until this moment.

It wasn’t an entirely pleasant revelation.

Barely aware he was moving, Santiago positioned himself between the Were and Nefri. As if the insanely strong vampire needed his protection.

And why the hell would he protect her anyway?

It was a puzzle he easily dismissed as the Were gestured for his overgrown guard to step forward.

“Hess, question the guards,” he commanded. “I want to know if anyone noticed anything out of the ordinary over the past two weeks. I don’t care how meaningless it might have seemed at the time.”

The cur fell to his knees, his bald head pressed to the floor.

“Yes, sire.”

“And bring each of them down here.” A scowl marred the Were’s brow. “It might be that someone will recognize one of the scents.”

“At once.”

Scrambling with surprising haste considering his bulk, the cur was on his feet and darting toward the stairs leading to the mansion above.

“Does he fetch and roll over on command?” Santiago mocked.

Glowing golden eyes turned in his direction. “No, but he does kill unwanted intruders when I whistle. Do you want a demonstration?”

Santiago didn’t need one.

He was absolutely certain the cur killed on command.

Not that he was particularly concerned.

“He’s welcome to try,” he said with a shrug.

With that tiny sound of impatience that all women made when men were having fun, Nefri stepped around him to speak directly with Salvatore.

“Is there any way in or out of this room beyond this entrance?”

“No.” He lifted his hand as they both regarded him with suspicion. “I swear.”

Santiago wasn’t entirely convinced, but he turned his attention to the beautiful vampire, who was busy pacing from one end of the cellar to the other, her movements as graceful as a water sprite.

“What is it?” he at last demanded.

“I can sense the path of the prophet and her Were,” she explained, returning to stand at the entrance of the cell even as she waved a hand toward the hidden doorway where Salvatore and his goon had made their appearance. “They entered the basement through the tunnels. But I can find no indication of where their attackers came from.”

“They couldn’t have appeared out of thin air,” Santiago pointed out.

Salvatore snorted. “You did.”

Abruptly reminded that Nefri had indeed managed to bring them to the cellars out of thin air, Santiago grasped the female vampire’s arm and tugged her toward the center of the wine cellar.

He wasn’t stupid enough to think he could have a private conversation with a pureblood Were standing a few feet away, but he wanted to make clear that this was vampire business, and opinions from the Lassie-section weren’t welcome.

“Nefri?” he prompted as she stood lost in thought.

“Hmmm?”

His jaw clenched. “It’s obvious the mystery vampire has rare abilities.”

She shrugged. “I have no knowledge of a vampire capable of disguising his scent so thoroughly.”

“And what of a vampire capable of arriving in this cellar without leaving a trail?”

She didn’t need him to spell out the fact that curs and witches were incapable of popping from one place to another. Or that the only vampire capable of entering the cellar was one who possessed her own skills.

Her pale, exquisite features smoothed to an unreadable mask.

“It is a possibility I need to explore.”

“Explore?” Santiago tightened his grip on her arm, suddenly sensing he wasn’t going to like where this conversation was going. “Explore where?”

The dark, fathomless eyes gave nothing away.

“I must seek the Council of my Elders.”

Yep. He was right.

He didn’t like it. In fact, the mere thought of this woman disappearing to a place he couldn’t follow pissed him off.

“You’re returning behind the Veil?” he snapped.

“For now.”

“Do you think the vampire was a member of your clan?”

Her slender fingers reached to touch the medallion hung about her neck, her perfect calm only adding to his annoyance.

“It is only one of many possibilities.”

“I thought your precious people had evolved beyond the failings of us mere savages?”

There was a muffled cough before Salvatore was stepping to stand beside Nefri.

“This is beginning to feel like a party for two and I have more important things to do,” he murmured.

Santiago happily shared his annoyance with the Were. There was, after all, plenty to go around.

“What better things?” he demanded in suspicion.

The king’s suffocating power rushed through the room. “Not that I answer to you, bloodsucker, but I intend to take my pregnant mate to a more secure location.”

Santiago grimaced. Whatever his enjoyment in taunting the Were, he was as devoted as his Anasso to the precious babies that Harley carried.

Not only because she was the sister to his queen, but because children were a rare and wonderful gift among all demons, and most especially among the pureblooded Weres.

“She is always welcome with Styx and Darcy,” he offered. “There are few places more secure.”

Salvatore nodded. “That is no doubt where she will demand to be taken. I would prefer to return her to my lair in Italy, but Harley has a mind of her own.”

Santiago slid a covert glance toward the silent vampire at his side. “It used to be a woman knew her place.”

Salvatore gave a sharp laugh. “Yeah, and pigs used to fly,” he mocked, his own gaze shifting to Nefri. “When I’ve settled my mate, I want answers. Understood?”

She dipped her head in agreement despite Santiago’s suspicion that she could rip the Were into tiny pieces with terrifying ease.

With his point made, Salvatore turned to follow the cur’s exit path up the stairs, closing and locking the door above with an audible snap.

“Arrogant dog,” Santiago growled.

“I believe there is a saying about a pot calling a kettle black,” Nefri said in smooth tones, stepping away from his grasp with a determined motion.

She was going to try and escape without him.

Unacceptable.

But why?

Disliking the tiny voice that whispered he didn’t want to dig too deeply into his reasons, Santiago told himself that it was his distrust of those who vanished from this world that made him uneasy at allowing her to escape.

What if the vampire responsible for taking Cassandra was hiding behind the Veil? They would never find him. And they could hardly trust this woman to rat him out.

Everyone knew the Immortal Ones were a closed society that protected each other with fanatical dedication.

Yeah.

Only a fool would allow her to disappear.

“I’m not a dog and we haven’t finished our conversation,” he warned, barely resisting the urge to reach out and yank her into his arms.

“I was not aware we were having a conversation,” she countered, her low voice holding an edge of censure. “As I recall you were venting your disdain for those of us who chose to leave this world and I was ignoring you. A conversation is an exchange of ideas and information between individuals who respect one another.”

Santiago frowned. No one had dared lecture him since he’d been a foundling.

“You can’t just leave.”

“Actually I can.”

“We must share what we’ve discovered with Styx.” He latched on to the convenient excuse. “He has to be warned that there’s at least one vampire who has turned traitor.”

“You can do that without my presence.”

“He’ll have questions for you.”

Her brows lifted at his persistence. “I have no more answers than you do. If I do learn any new information then I will send word.”

“ No.”

Her brows lifted at his persistence. “I beg your pardon?”

Santiago shrugged. “My king commanded that I find Cassandra and right now you’re my best hope. I won’t fail him.”

She paused, studying him with a searching gaze. “He means so much to you?”

He did.

After Santiago had been abandoned by his maker, he had become a slave to those vampires more powerful than himself. There had been days when he truly thought he was living out his personal hell until Styx had found him and trained him to become one of Viper’s guards.

That had changed everything.

Suddenly he was no longer fair game for sex or sport or any other brutal pleasure that might amuse his latest master. He was treated with a dignity that had transformed him into a warrior who was never again at the mercy of another.

Santiago would never forget.

Never.

“Loyalty means that much to me,” he said, unwilling to share his deep connection to his Anasso. He liked his reputation as an unfeeling bastard. It had taken him years to earn. “It’s not something I offer only when it’s convenient.”

“Very noble.” There was a knowing glimmer in her dark eyes, as if she saw far more than he wanted. “I admire your devotion, but I must return to my brethren and ensure that we have not been betrayed.”

“Then I go with you.”

She looked as startled as he felt.

“Beyond the Veil?”

His resolve briefly faltered.

Of all the gin joints in all the world ...

Then his gaze skimmed over her pale, impossibly lovely face and he squared his shoulders.

Once she disappeared there would be no means to trace her.

“You can take me, can’t you?”

The dark eyes narrowed with undisguised suspicion. “I could.”

He forced a smile. “Then let’s do this thing.”

“Why should I?”

He shrugged. “Why shouldn’t you?”

“You have not bothered to hide your contempt for my people.” A hint of ice coated her words. “I will not allow you to disturb their peace.”

“Despite being a barbarian I was taught a few manners.”

“Were you?” She blinked in blatant disbelief. “Astonishing.”

“Do you want me to swear in blood I’ll behave myself ?”

Her gaze never wavered, studying him as if he was a strange specimen that she might or might not keep for further study.

Then a slow smile curved her lips.

“Actually that will not be necessary.”

Santiago felt his instincts stir. There was something about that beautiful smile.

Something dangerous.

“It won’t?”

“No.” The smile widened. “I am perfectly capable of making sure you behave.”

“Are you certain ...”

His words were ripped from his lips as she grasped his arm at the same moment that she squeezed the medallion. This time, however, the world didn’t dissolve with the creepy impression of simply melting away. Instead he felt as if he were being roughly jerked through a curtain of lightning.

Mierda.

Darkness surrounded them, the electricity dancing over his skin and his hair floating despite the lack of a breeze. His teeth snapped together to muffle his scream, his only reality the feel of Nefri’s slender fingers still gripping his arm.

What the hell had he gotten himself into now?

Tearloch knew he should be sleeping.

At the moment his loyal tribesmen were finishing their task of clearing the rubble that blocked the altar they needed to complete the ceremony. And the wizard continued to hold his spell of protection that surrounded the caves.

What better opportunity to give his weary body time to recover?

Instead he stood at the upper level of the caverns, glancing with a heartsick longing at the overgrown fields and the star-spattered sky he could glimpse beyond the opening.

The darkness called to him to run free as his people were meant to do ...

Being locked within the spiderweb of stark, unnaturally smooth passageways was like being buried alive.

There was a faint stir of air as Rafael entered the large cave. Tearloch didn’t bother to glance in his direction. The annoying spirit was no doubt there to remind Tearloch that he dared not venture out of the range of his damned spells.

Typically Rafael ignored Tearloch’s obvious wish to be left in peace.

The wizard more and more often forgot he was a slave to Tearloch’s will.

“Master,” the spirit murmured.

“What do you want?”

“I believe there is something you should see.”

Tearloch turned a reluctant gaze toward the gaunt face that hovered in the shadows, a shiver of loathing inching down his spine.

“More surprises?”

“Please, if you would come with me?”

Words of denial hovered on his lips.

He was tired and his head ached.

Could he not have an hour without having to sort out some new disaster?

Then, knowing Rafael would remain hovering behind him like some sinister wraith of doom, he heaved a resigned sigh.

Who knew being the leader was such a pain in the ass?

Ariyal always made it look so easy.

Well, maybe not easy, he conceded, vaguely recalling the hours of endless abuse at the hands of Morgana le Fey.

But he had never complained.

“Fine.” He turned to meet the sunken eyes that flickered with crimson fire in the shadows. “What is it?”

The spirit gestured him to follow him back through the dark corridors, returning to the cavern where they’d spoken earlier. Once there he crossed directly toward the shallow pool in the floor, pointing a skeletal hand at the images that hovered on the surface of the water.

“Look.”

Tearloch was already prepared for the sight of the Sylvermyst who was standing in what looked like the middle of a barnyard.

“Ariyal.” Regret stabbed through his heart before he was hardening himself against the sight of his brother. “I already knew he was near.”

“But not alone.”

Rafael gave a wave of his hand. The image scanned back to include a beautiful, raven-haired woman who paced through a human kitchen, her fingers stroking the butt of the shotgun holstered on her hip.

“The vampire,” he breathed.

“His lover. Such a pity,” the spirit crooned, his words dripping like poison. “She has obviously clouded his mind. They are plotting to come and kill the child.”

Tearloch scowled. The treacherous wizard wasn’t fit to speak Ariyal’s name.

“What does it matter? You said your powers would prevent us from being followed.”

Rafael grimaced. “His ability to sense you is greater than I suspected. He should never have been able to follow us from London.”

“I warned you of his power.”

The spirit shrugged. “He couldn’t know your precise location or he would already have attacked.”

“Then why are you bothering me?”

“Because of this.”

There was another wave of his hand and the scene changed, revealing the graveyard overhead. It took a second for Tearloch to notice the misty shadow that drifted toward the entrance of the caves.

“A spirit,” he said, tensing in surprise.

It wasn’t a full-blown apparition. Merely a ghost that was easily called and easily dismissed. Which meant that it had been conjured to gather information rather than to perform a specific task. Ghosts were incapable of taking solid form.

“One of yours?” Rafael murmured.

“ No.”

“Can you get rid of it?”

“Yes, but the moment I do then Ariyal will know that I’m here.” Tearloch pressed a hand to his aching head. “Damn. We have to leave.”

“Wait.” Something in the wizard’s voice suddenly eased Tearloch’s panicked urge to flee. “Do not be so hasty. I believe we can use this to our advantage.”

“How?”

“The ghost is clearly approaching us as a spy.”

“I’m not stupid,” Tearloch snapped. “I know why Ariyal conjured the ghost.”

Rafael pressed his hands to the pendant hung about his neck, a faint smirk curving his thin lips.

“Then why don’t we allow him to see what we want him to see?”

“And what’s that?”

“The babe.”

“That’s your plan?” Tearloch’s sharp burst of laughter bounced against the polished wall of the cavern. “To lead the most powerful of all Sylvermyst and a vampire directly to the child we have risked everything to keep hidden?”

Rafael smiled with an eerie anticipation.

Gods. The Cheshire Cat from hell.

“The child will merely be the bait.”

“Bait for what?”

“To lure the two of them to a very special section of the caverns that was specifically designed for my enemies,” the wizard explained.

Tearloch swallowed a resigned sigh. Of course there were caverns devised to capture, and no doubt torture, the wizard’s enemies. He suspected that Rafael had been even more of a paranoid, ruthlessly brutal bastard when he’d been alive than he was dead.

“A trap?” he demanded.

“Precisely.”

Tearloch hesitated, revolted by the thought of deliberately luring Ariyal into Rafael’s trap.

It went against everything he believed.

But what choice did he have?

Ariyal had lost sight of the true path during their time on Avalon. Now it was Tearloch’s holy duty to restore the Sylvermyst to their former glory.

Of course, he didn’t have to like it.

“This had better work, wizard,” he warned. “Or we’re both on our way to hell.”