GOE 08 - Bound By Darkness

Chapter 21

Jaelyn bit back her protests as Ariyal led them through the increasingly narrow tunnels that reeked of ambush.

A fighter never allowed herself to be cornered in cramped spaces. It was too difficult to maneuver for even the best trained warrior.

Unfortunately, while she couldn’t sense the magical battle that must be happening ahead of them, she could feel Ariyal’s pulsing urgency, which meant that haste had to overcome caution for now.

Not that it had to make her happy.

Concentrating on her duty to make certain nothing approached them from behind, Jaelyn was unprepared for Ariyal’s abrupt halt.

Ramming into his hard back, she swiftly regained her balance, rubbing her nose as he turned to face her with a tense frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“Listen,” he said softly.

Distantly she could hear the sound of Sergei and Rafael in a heated argument, the occasional shake of the tunnel warning her that they were doing far worse than merely throwing punches at one another.

If they weren’t careful they would bring several tons of rock plummeting onto their heads.

Not the most pleasant thought.

But even as the image of being buried alive flashed through her mind, Ariyal’s eyes were widening with a fear that had nothing to do with a cave-in.

“Ariyal?”

“The wizard,” he managed to rasp between clenched teeth.

“What about him?”

“He’s started the ceremony.”

“Shit. We have to stop him.”

Ariyal shook his head. “It’s too late.”

“No, it can’t be.”

She moved to dart around him, only to be stymied as he caught her in his arms and began pushing her back down the tunnel.

“We have to get the hell out of here.”

“But ...”

“Dammit, Jaelyn, those idiots have created a rift between dimensions.”

“What does that mean?”

The question had barely tumbled from her lips when she caught sight of the white mist that was boiling through the tunnel, heading directly toward them.

“Hold on,” Ariyal commanded, pressing her head against his chest as the mist surrounded them, seeming to suck them forward with a ruthless force.

She focused on the feel of her mate’s hard body pressed against her as the world melted away. It would be terrifyingly easy to become lost and disoriented in the thick fog.

After what might have been a few minutes or an eternity, the sense of movement came to a halt. Tentatively, Jaelyn pushed away from Ariyal, studying the walls of mist that appeared to go on forever.

“This isn’t good.” She pointed out the obvious.

“No.”

Ariyal pulled his sword as Jaelyn sent out her senses to probe the fog.

She wasn’t an expert on alien dimensions. Her varied training had included many things, but vampires weren’t intended to travel from world to world. Not unless they happened to be ancient Immortal Ones.

But she did know enough to realize that this wasn’t typical.

In fact, she would guess that they were standing in the strange place between dimensions, not actually in one or the other.

Not the most comforting thought.

And it was becoming even less comforting as she caught the distinct scent of the wizard in the distance.

“We aren’t alone,” she breathed softly, uncertain how sound would travel in the mists.

Everything seemed ... muffled, but she wasn’t going to take unnecessary risks.

“Where?” Ariyal demanded, his voice equally low.

She hesitated, struggling to get her bearings before at last pointing to a spot over his shoulder.

“That way.”

Ariyal didn’t hesitate, turning to flow through the mists in the direction she’d indicated. Following in his wake, Jaelyn felt warmth spread through her heart at his absolute faith in her abilities.

That trust was as precious to her as his unconditional love.

They moved in silence, the strange mist swirling around them.

Or at least she assumed they were moving, she acknowledged with a grimace.

Their feet were stepping forward.

And there was a faint breeze she could see stirring the loose fabric of Ariyal’s shirt.

But the landscape remained shrouded behind a fog that made it impossible to determine if they were making progress or running in place.

Refusing to consider the horrifying thought that they might be eternally trapped in the smothering mist, Jaelyn forced herself to latch on to her strengthening awareness of Rafael. Moving or not, they were growing ever closer to the wizard.

Which had to be a good sign, didn’t it?

“He’s near,” she warned softly.

Ariyal slowed, his sword held ready. “Can you tell if he has the child?”

She shook her head. “No. If the babe is here it’s still wrapped in the spell that prevents me from being able to track it.”

Ariyal’s lips parted, but before he could speak, a form abruptly appeared out of the fog, standing directly in their path.

Tearloch.

No, not Tearloch, she silently corrected, catching sight of the Sylvermyst’s eyes.

The beautiful silver had been consumed by a crimson that smoldered like the fiery pits of hell. A sure sign that he had become a mere puppet to a powerful being.

Her nose wrinkled. Even his scent had been overwhelmed by the acrid stench of brimstone that made Jaelyn’s stomach churn in revulsion.

Without expression he held up his hand in warning. “Stop.”

Ariyal studied his tribesman with a wary frown. “Tearloch ?”

“You may go no farther.”

“Tearloch, can you hear me?” Ariyal took a step forward. “Brother?”

The Sylvermyst didn’t respond. Hell, he might as well have been a lamppost for all the reaction he gave to Ariyal’s plea.

Not that he it made him any less dangerous.

Jaelyn reached to lightly touch her mate’s arm. “He’s completely enthralled. Could the wizard do this?”

“Not without help. Only the Dark Lord could so completely crush his mind.”

It was the answer she’d expected, but that didn’t prevent the sharp stab of unease.

Who wouldn’t be a little antsy at the thought of the ultimate evil creeping around in the fog?

“Great.” She swallowed a curse as she sensed the wizard moving deeper into the mists. She couldn’t allow him to escape. Who knew if she’d ever be able to track him in the damned fog if she lost his scent? “Can you keep him distracted ?”

The bronzed eyes shimmered with frustration as he glanced in her direction.

“Jaelyn.”

She sent him a warning frown. They didn’t have time to squabble over whether she was going to put herself in danger or not.

“Can you do it or not?”

“Yes,” he grudgingly conceded. “Just don’t ...”

“Do anything stupid.” She finished for him, reaching up to steal a swift, possessive kiss. “Ditto.”

“Ditto?”

Stepping back, Jaelyn pointed toward the motionless Tearloch.

“Right now he’s your enemy, not your brother,” she reminded him. “Don’t let yourself be fooled into feeling pity for him.”

Ariyal grimaced, but there was a grim determination etched onto his beautiful face.

“I’ll do what I have to do.”

She felt his bleak regret as he leaped forward, his sword slashing through the air directly at Tearloch’s vulnerable throat.

Mindlessly Tearloch met the strike with his own sword, fighting back with an obvious skill.

Jaelyn forced herself to ignore the instinct to join in the battle and plunged into the surrounding fog. She demanded that Ariyal trust her ability to take care of herself. How could she offer him any less?

Even if leaving did suck.

Big time.

The ringing of steel on steel began to dim behind her as she moved steadily through the white landscape. Dammit. Where was the bastard?

She continued on for what felt like miles before a sudden prickle of energy rippled through the mists and she came to a sharp halt, her senses on full alert.

“Who’s there?” she demanded, her feet spread in a fighting stance. “Wizard? Show yourself.”

On cue Rafael stepped out of the fog, his robes flowing around his thin body and his bald head shimmering in the odd light.

“Welcome, vampire.” A sneer twisted the gaunt face. “I was hoping that it was Dante approaching, but I suppose you will suffice.”

“He’s already put you in your grave once,” she mocked, her tongue stroking down a massive fang. “It’s my turn.”

His thin lip twisted with a hatred that burned in his crimson eyes.

“I do not know what I dislike more, the sheer conceit of vampires, or females who do not know their proper place.”

Jaelyn made a sound of disgust.

A male chauvinistic pig.

Why wasn’t she surprised?

“Come closer and I’ll show you the proper place of my foot,” she promised sweetly. “A hint ... it’s up your ass.”

His spiderlike fingers stroked the pendant hung around his skinny neck.

“You cannot defeat me. Not here.”

The suspicion that he wasn’t just blowing air out of his ass curdled in the pit of her stomach.

She could actually feel the force of his power throbbing in the air around him.

“And why is that?” she demanded, more in an effort to gain some time than any true interest.

If she couldn’t find some Achilles’ heel then she was in a shitload of trouble.

“In this place the power of the Dark Lord pumps through my veins.”

With a demented smile the wizard pulled back the sleeve of his robe and used a fingernail to slice through his brittle skin. Instantly a thick, gray sludge filled the wound; then slowly it dripped down his arm.

Jaelyn stepped back before she could halt the revealing movement.

She’d seen a lot of ewww things in her life, but that vile slime was right at the top of this list.

“God almighty,” she breathed. “You do know you’re insanely creepy, don’t you?”

His smile widened as he lifted his arm and licked the sludge off his skin, smacking his lips as she shuddered in horror.

“I shall enjoy making you scream.”

The jackass no doubt intended the taunt to rattle her further. Thankfully the familiar words only jerked her out of her mesmerized sense of horror.

She’d promised herself a long time ago that when she met her death it wouldn’t be with a damned whimper.

“Yeah, I get that a lot.”

“I am not at all surprised.” The wizard gave a casual flick of his hand. “The Sylvermyst must be desperate for a mate to have chosen you.”

Unable to sense the magical attack, Jaelyn was unprepared as the sensation of a fist slamming into her chin sent her flying backward.

“Damn,” she muttered, flowing to her feet and glaring at her opponent.

“Not quite so confident now, my dear?” he mocked.

She managed a grin despite her shattered jaw. She wasn’t going to give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing her pain.

“We can chitchat or we can fight.” She shrugged. “Your call.”

Anger rippled over his face as he lifted his hand once again, but this time Jaelyn was prepared. Even as he sent a blast of magic in her direction she was flowing to the side, kicking out to crack his ribs.

He hissed in shock, but with a movement faster than she would have believed possible he was turning to hit her with another explosion of power.

Jaelyn’s teeth rattled as she struggled to stay on her feet, the magic slicing a hundred tiny cuts in her skin as it blew past her.

The smile returned to the wizard’s lips. “Obviously the rumors of the near-mystical powers of the Hunter were grossly exaggerated.”

“You think?”

She flowed with blinding speed behind him, her claws raking deep wounds through his robes and into the flesh of his back.

“Bitch,” he snapped, barely seeming to notice the nasty gray sludge that oozed down his back. “This is my favorite robe.”

“Surely you must know that all vampires like to play with their prey before striking the killing blow?” she taunted.

He muttered a low word, and Jaelyn suddenly felt bands of air wrapping around her, holding her prisoner as surely as if they’d been made of steel.

“An odd way to play,” Rafael rasped, moving forward to wrap his fingers around her neck. “Unless you enjoy pain?”

Oh ... shit.

This wasn’t going nearly as well as she’d hoped.

Actually, she was pretty sure that it couldn’t be going any worse.

“Even if you defeat me the vampires are gathered to halt you,” she ground out. “They will destroy the child rather than allow the return of the Dark Lord.”

“You mean that child?” With a smile the wizard glanced to the side, clearly capable of parting the mists with a mere thought. Not that she had time to admire his talent. Instead her last hope died as she caught sight of the baby nestled in the fog, its eyes wide open and watching her with an unnerving awareness. “If they stand in the Dark Lord’s path they will be destroyed,” he assured her, his nails digging in to her throat. “Just as you will be.”

A small voice in the back of her mind urged her to keep her mouth shut. It didn’t take a genius to know that her death would be a lot less painful if she didn’t keep provoking the wizard.

It was a voice that was easy to squash, along with any common sense.

“You truly believe your master will be strong enough to battle a half-dozen vampires and a pack of Weres?” she scorned his cocky confidence.

“He will once I have offered him the blood he needs.” The crimson eyes flared with a disturbing hunger. “Your blood.” His smile widened. “And then the Sylvermyst.”

Fury boiled through her, searing away the fear that was clouding her mind.

At the same time she became sharply aware of her connection to Ariyal.

He had been in the back of her mind, a bundle of fury and regret. But, as if the mention of him suddenly brought him into focus, she was conscious of the sensation of pain, as if he’d just taken a vicious blow to the shoulder. And then, an overwhelming grief that brought tears to her eyes.

Dear gods ... Ariyal.

The intensity of her sorrow was so deep that for a hideous second she actually thought she was mourning the loss of her mate. Then as the sense of him remained firmly settled in her heart, she at last realized that it was Ariyal who was consumed by his feelings of brutal sadness.

Relief blazed through her, nearly drowning out the more subtle changes that swelled through the fog.

In fact she almost missed the sensation of emptiness as Tearloch’s soul slipped away, and the iron tang of blood that scented the air.

Human blood.

Momentarily confused, her gaze searched the mists for some sign of the intruder. It didn’t make sense. How could a human manage to cross the magical boundary between dimensions?

At last, she accepted there were no unpleasant surprises creeping through the fog and returned her attention to the wizard. Only then did she catch sight of the red stains that marred the sleeve of his robe.

Red?

As in blood?

Mortal blood?

She dismissed the pain from her injuries as she rapidly sorted through the various explanations for the odd transformation from gray goo that had been leaking from the wizard’s wounds to plain, old-fashioned blood.

At last she accepted that it had to be connected to Tearloch’s passing.

Somehow his death had made the wizard mortal.

At least in this moment.

A slow smile of anticipation curled her lips. “You will never get your filthy hands on my mate,” she warned in frigid tones. “Never.”

His eyes, which were now a pale shade of blue, flickered with unease, although the creature didn’t seem to realize what had happened.

Or how vulnerable he’d become.

“Such brave words for a woman about to die,” he rasped.

With a covert movement she shifted her hand to grasp the smooth stock of her gun, her finger resting on the trigger.

“Don’t be so certain.”

“But I am.”

His whispering beneath his breath reminded her that even if he were temporarily mortal, he was still a powerful mage who could turn her into something nasty.

Or worse.

She had been given a miracle; she wasn’t about to waste it.

“And I’m about to prove the mystic reputation of Hunters hasn’t been exaggerated,” she informed him, lifting her hand to press the muzzle of the gun against his temple.

Then, before he could react, she pulled the trigger.

At the last minute he managed to jerk to the side, but the bullet still managed to rip through his skull, sending a spray of blood and gore flying through the mist.

His hand released its hold on Jaelyn as he fell to his knees, his face unrecognizable. But even as she felt his life draining away he reached out to grasp her leg, his touch causing an agonizing pain to jolt though her body.

“You will pay for this,” he warned despite his mangled lips.

“Really?” She kicked him away, shuddering at the tiny tremors of pain that continued to torment her. “Where’s your Dark Lord now, wizard?”

His eerie laugh was swallowed by the fog. “I will serve him even in death.”

“Yeah, yeah ...” Struggling against the urge to collapse, Jaelyn shoved the gun back into its holster and waited while the wizard slowly died. Serve him in death. What a load of ... “Crap,” she hissed, belatedly realizing that the human blood she’d just minutes ago considered a miracle was now flowing in small rivulets directly toward the child.

Like an idiot she leaped forward, trying to halt the flow of blood, or at least to divert it away from the babe.

A wasted effort.

The blood continued its unwavering path, as if directly being controlled by the child.

And perhaps it was, she was forced to accept, meeting the steady blue gaze that held a disturbing cunning.

Damn.

What to do, what to do.

The thought of leaving the baby behind was unthinkable.

If the Dark Lord managed to resurrect himself then none of the worlds would be safe from the hell he would unleash.

But even as she moved to pick up the child the fog began to thicken around the tiny body, obscuring it from her view.

She tried to battle her way past the flimsy barrier, but it was like treading water, a lot of flailing around without getting anywhere. Muttering in frustration she circled the spot, the hair on the nape of her neck standing on end at the electric pulses of energy she could feel coming from the fog.

Something was happening.

Something very, very big.

And with the way her luck was running, it was also very, very bad.

Which meant that it was time to go.

Backing away, she kept her gaze trained on the wall of mist, nearly stumbling over the swiftly rotting carcass of the wizard. With a shiver she leaped to the side, her attention briefly distracted.

As she skirted around the body a silvery laugh danced on the air and Jaelyn snapped her head up to discover a slender young woman standing just a few feet away.

She was a beautiful creature with long, dark hair that spilled over her naked skin, which was tinted a rich honey. Jaelyn guessed she was seventeen in human years with a pair of disarming dimples and wide blue eyes that were alarmingly familiar.

Eyes that she’d seen mere minutes ago in the face of a baby.

The Dark Lord.

In the flesh.

Quite literally.

Seemingly pleased by Jaelyn’s gaping horror, the female held out her hand in a coaxing gesture.

“Jaelyn,” she purred, her voice a potent weapon that nearly sent Jaelyn to her knees. “Sweet vampire, join with me and I will fulfill your every desire.”

The urge to move forward and clutch that offered hand beat through her with merciless insistence. Her foot had even taken a treacherous step forward as she frantically fought for the strength to break free of the Dark Lord’s compulsion.

It was at last her bond with Ariyal that saved her from certain enslavement.

Clinging with a fierce desperation to the feel of his presence buried in her heart, she conjured the image of his lean face and stunningly beautiful bronze eyes to distract her mind.

Suddenly she was filled with his essence, the scent of warm herbs almost tangible in the air.

A faint frown touched the creature’s exquisite face as she sensed her hold on Jaelyn slipping away.

“Vampire, I command you to come to me.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Hell no.”

Spinning on her heel, Jaelyn took off through the fog as if the devil was nipping at her heels.

And she was.

Behind the Veil

If Santiago was foolish enough to believe he had won the battle, Nefri swiftly disabused him of the fantasy.

While she willingly led him to the hallowed halls of the Great Council room, she had refused to allow him to enter.

He grimaced, pacing the marble hallway with a growing impatience.

It had been worse than a refusal.

She had walked into the massive room, with its glowing chandeliers and long ebony table surrounded by a dozen pompous-looking pricks he assumed were the Elders, and rudely slammed the door in his face.

Locked out, Santiago had been left to twiddle his thumbs.

And to curse the powerful female vampire who was rapidly becoming his personal nemesis.

A most beautiful nemesis, a renegade voice whispered in the back of his mind.

And sexy as hell despite her aloof, can’t-touch-me demeanor.

Or perhaps that’s what he found so enticing.

What predator didn’t like the thought of hunting his prey? The more elusive the better.

Passing the time with images of the perfectly groomed Nefri lying rumpled and sated with pleasure in his bed, Santiago was able to resist the urge to beat something or someone to a bloody pulp.

Almost as if he was actually civilized.

Ha.

At last the heavy double doors of the Great Council were thrust open and Nefri stepped into the hallway, her perfect composure unable to disguise the concern that burned in her dark eyes.

Moving forward, he deliberately blocked her path with his larger body. She might be more powerful, but he wasn’t above fighting dirty.

She wasn’t getting away until he was satisfied that she’d revealed every word that had been exchanged behind closed doors.

“Well?” he prompted.

Her lips thinned, but she didn’t bother to pretend she didn’t know what he wanted.

“Gaius is no longer behind the Veil.”

Even expecting the words, Santiago stiffened in shock.

For centuries he’d refused to think of his sire, or to wonder what his life might be like with his new clan. But somewhere in the back of his mind had lurked the knowledge that Gaius was alive and well behind the Veil.

So why, after sacrificing his relationship with Santiago, not to mention all the others who depended on him, would he leave?

And why now?

Aware of Nefri’s piercing gaze, Santiago managed a humorless smile.

“I won’t tell you I told you so.”

“So kind,” she said dryly.

He folded his arms over his chest, barely noticing the hushed echo of footsteps as the remaining vampires spilled from the room and disappeared through the various passageways.

If they were truly as wise as was claimed, then they would know better than to interfere in his private conversation.

“Where is he?”

Her hands smoothed over her dark robes. “No one knows for certain.”

“Convenient.”

“Our people are not prisoners, Santiago.” There was a bite to her smooth words. Had he touched a nerve? “They are free to come and go as they please. That does not make him guilty.”

“When was he last seen?”

“Nearly a month ago.”

“A month?” he growled, his brows snapping together.

“Yes.”

“And no one thought it was weird that he just disappeared ?”

“Our people are dedicated to their studies.” Her chin tilted. “It is not uncommon for us to seclude ourselves for weeks or even years.”

Freaking perfect.

If it was Gaius who had attacked Caine and Cassandra in Salvatore’s cellar and later kidnapped them from Caine’s home, then he had plenty of time to prepare a hidden lair where they would never find him.

Their only hope now was figuring out what the hell had prompted the vampire, who had been legendary for his brilliant intelligence and complete lack of political ambitions, to commit treason.

“Where’s his lair?”

Nefri’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why?”

He made a sound of impatience. He wasn’t used to explaining himself. And he most certainly wasn’t used to asking for permission.

Even his clan chief, Viper, understood his need to be in charge.

Which no doubt explained why he sent him out of Chicago to run one of his numerous nightclubs.

“Because there might be some clue that can reveal his connection to the Dark Lord.”

Of course that couldn’t be the end of the matter.

He was beginning to suspect that the female would argue with him if he said the sun rose in the east.

“We have no proof there is any connection.”

“Hence the search.”

“Do you have no respect for personal boundaries?”

With a wicked smile he stepped forward, his head lowering until his lips were brushing softly against hers as he spoke.

“None.”

Electric currents of pleasure jolted through him, his body clenching with a primitive need to haul her against the nearest wall and sate the hunger that was becoming an insistent, all-consuming ache.

She froze beneath his light touch, as if she was battling her own demons of need. Then with a deliberate motion, she pressed her hands against his chest and shoved him away.

“If you will follow me I will take you to Gaius’s lair.”

With precise movements she had stepped around him and was leading him past the marble columns to a wide marble staircase at the end of the hallway.

Santiago scowled as he followed behind. Her spine might be stiff beneath that long, silky curtain of dark hair and her muscles clenched beneath the flowing robes, but he hadn’t missed the pure feminine desire that had flared through her eyes before she had pushed him away.

Dios.

Nefri, the freaking Queen of the Immortal Ones, was a complication he didn’t need.

Especially not now.

But when had lust ever struck when it was convenient?

And that’s what this was, he assured himself as they moved swiftly down the staircase. Lust with a capital L.

Anything else would be ... nuts.

Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Nefri led him through the vaulted chamber with Greek gods painted on the ceiling and a fountain with a black marble statue of Poseidon in the center. He caught the musty scent of ancient books from a nearby library and the tantalizing perfume of orchids from the bathhouse, but Nefri moved toward a corridor that led away from the public rooms to what he assumed must be the living quarters.

And still she continued forward, turning into hallways that grew progressively more barren and dangerously narrow.

At last she came to a halt in front of a door, pausing with obvious reluctance before shoving it open and allowing him to step over the threshold.

Not burdened with pesky scruples, Santiago moved to the center of the room, inspecting the narrow cot and plain wooden trunk shoved in one corner with a growing sense of puzzlement.

Mierda.

It was like a monk’s cell with its unadorned stone walls and stark lack of personal possessions. There wasn’t even a rug to warm the marble floor.

“Bleak,” he muttered.

“Gaius has never revealed a desire for material possessions,” Nefri pointed out, although he sensed she was as startled as he was by their stark surroundings.

“No, he always preferred function over fashion,” Santiago agreed. The older vampire had often teased Santiago on his love for luxury, claiming that Santiago’s lair was more suitable for a pampered human than a dangerous predator. Grimly he shoved away the memory, reminding himself that the vampire he had once loved and respected had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination. “But he used to enjoy the basic comforts,” he continued through gritted teeth.

“We all change over the years.”

He snorted at soft words. “Evolve to higher beings, you mean?”

Her lips tightened, but predictably she refused to rise to the bait.

“For a rare few. Most of us merely do the best we can to survive.”

“Very deep, dulcita,” he muttered, moving to pull open the closet door.

“Some truths are simple.”

“If you say ...” Flicking through the dozen robes hung in a neat row, Santiago’s words were forgotten as he caught sight of a small box set on the narrow shelf at the back.

With a hand that wasn’t quite steady, he grabbed the ornately carved object, an emotion he refused to acknowledge clenching his heart.

There was a wash of cool power and the scent of exotic woman as Nefri moved to stand at his side, her serene presence offering a surprising balm to the tumultuous feelings that threatened to consume him.

“What is it?”

He held up the wooden box that was well worn from fingers that had lovingly traced the intricate patterns over the years.

“I carved this for Gaius just days before he left,” he said, his voice thick.

He didn’t add that sculpting the box had his been his means to mourn the brutal loss of Gaius’s mate. He had poured his grief into each tiny engraving, attempting to capture the beauty she had added to his life.

“He obviously has treasured it,” she said gently.

Why?

Why would Gaius have taken such care of this gift and at the same time dismiss the son who had created it for him?

With a shake of his head, Santiago opened the box, his brows lifting at the sight of a heavy, old-fashioned key that was hidden inside.

“Now I wonder what this might open.”

“I haven’t the least notion.”

Tossing the box onto the cot, Santiago began searching for a hidden door. If there was a key, there had to be a lock, didn’t there?

Finding nothing in the closet, he searched the floor and then moved to the walls, his hands skimming over the smooth marble.

At last forced to accept he was at a stalemate, he turned his attention to the beautiful woman standing near the door, watching him with obvious displeasure.

So what was new?

“A little help?”

Her lips thinned. “I do not approve of invading another’s privacy.”

“No?” He shifted to stand directly before her, his expression hard with warning. “Do you approve of the end of the world?”

Their gazes clashed in a silent battle of wills before Nefri hissed in resignation.

“I should never have allowed you through the Veil,” she muttered.

“Too late.” He stroked a hand over her alabaster cheek, relishing the feel of her satin skin. “Now you will never get rid of me.”

“Is that a threat?”

She met his burning gaze with cool indifference, but she couldn’t hide her tiny shiver of pleasure at his touch.

“A promise,” he said huskily.

There it was again.

That small, tantalizing shiver.

Then she was brushing past him to wave a slender hand through the air.

“There.”

Fully aroused, it took Santiago a second to realize that she was pointing toward a door that had seemingly appeared like magic in the wall beside the cot.

He studied her with a suspicious frown. She’d done the same voodoo magic in Salvatore’s wine cellar to reveal Cassandra’s presence there. At the time he’d been too busy making sure they didn’t get eaten by the King of Weres and his sidekick to question her unexpected powers.

Not this time.

“What did you do?”

She shrugged. “I nullified any magic in the room.”

Her tone was offhand. As if it was perfectly normal for a vampire to be capable of destroying a magical illusion.

Hell, most of his brothers would kill for such a gift.

“Dios,” he growled. “A nice trick.”

“It only works for the space directly around me,” she qualified. “And only if the magic-user is not actively casting the spell.”

“Can all of your clan do that?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Only me.”

He prowled forward, holding her dark gaze. “Because you’re special?”

She stepped back, then hastily tried to cover the revealing movement by moving toward the cot.

“Shall we continue?”

Normally Santiago would have pounced on the hint of weakness.

Hey, it was a vampire-eat-vampire kind of world.

But, while Nefri might aggravate the hell out of him, and he couldn’t resist attempting to crack through that cool composure, he never wanted her to feel anything but strong and proud when she was with him.

Grabbing the end of the cot, he pulled it out of the way, his gaze on the wooden door.

“Why do suppose Gaius would want to keep this door hidden?”

“No doubt you intend to open it and find out,” she said dryly.

He flashed her a wicked smile as he stepped forward and pushed the key into the brass lock.

“You’re beginning to know me so well.”

“Unfortunately.”

Turning the key, Santiago was unprepared for the door to swing open with surprising force, revealing the hidden room beyond.

“Stand back,” he commanded, instinctively shifting to protect his companion.

Who knew what might lurk in the darkness?

Then, when nothing leaped out to attack them, he cautiously stepped through the narrow doorway and promptly came to an incredulous halt.

He was ... speechless.

The room was barely larger than the closet and built of the same marble as everything else. But there was nothing barren in the life-size mural of a beautiful Egyptian female with long, ebony hair and dark, oblong eyes who was painted standing in front of the Great Pyramids.

It was so lifelike that Santiago half expected her to step off the wall and pull him into her welcoming embrace.

His gaze shifted to the wide shelf where a line of candles burned before moving on to the ivory satin gown that was neatly folded on top of a pair of gold embroidered pumps. Next to them were several wide gold bracelets and a matching necklace that glowed in the flickering candlelight.

Entering behind him, Nefri made a soft sound of shock. “Oh my.”

“Dara,” he said, an age-old sorrow twisting his heart.

“You recognize her?”

He gave a slow nod. “She was Gaius’s mate.”

“Was?”

“She and Gaius were captured by a rogue vampire clan.” His gaze returned to the lovely face that was filled with a rare kindness among vampires. There wasn’t a day that passed that he didn’t regret having traveled away from the lair the night it was attacked. “He was forced to watch as she was burned to ash in front of him.”

“How ghastly.” Nefri’s fingers lightly brushed his shoulder, as if she sensed his own pain at the loss of Dara. “It is no wonder he sought the solace to be found here.”

Solace?

Santiago frowned, putting aside his grief as a vague warning that something wasn’t right niggled at the back of his mind.

Once again his gaze made a slow circuit of the room, from the picture to the clothing that was clearly chosen with Dara’s modest taste in mind.

It was, at last, the scent of detergent and the realization that the gown had been recently washed that made him stiffen in horror.

“You believe that he came through the Veil seeking solace?” he demanded, a chill inching down his spine.

“Of course.” Nefri lightly touched the portrait. “Where better to grieve? He would have been allowed the solitude he needed to recover from his dreadful loss.”

“Or the solitude necessary to disguise his hidden agenda,” he added.

Her hand dropped as she regarded him with confusion. “Agenda?”

“Look around you, Nefri,” he urged softly. “This isn’t a shrine to loss.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s a symbol of hope.” Plucking the gown off the shelf, he shook it beneath her nose. A dead wife didn’t need a new gown and her favorite shoes. “He wasn’t saying good-bye, he was preparing to be reunited with the woman he adores.”

“Impossible,” she denied, even as her eyes darkened with a growing dismay.

He understood her reluctance to consider the thought that her clansman might be a raving lunatic beneath his careful façade.

Hell, Santiago didn’t want to believe it.

Even after Gaius had abandoned him.

But they didn’t have the option of sticking their heads in the sand.

“Perhaps, but if the Dark Lord was able to convince Gaius he could return Dara, do you think there’s anything he wouldn’t do to make it happen?” he asked, waving a hand toward Dara’s portrait. “Including betray his own people?”

Without warning she was out of the cramped chamber and crossing to the open doorway.

“We must tell the Elders what we have discovered.”

Rushing forward, Santiago grasped her upper arm and pulled her around to meet his stubborn glare.

“And then we go to Styx and warn him.”

“Yes.”

He blinked, wondering if he’d been whisked into some bizzaro land.

“No arguments?”

The pale, perfect face was impossible to read. “No arguments.”

“Dios. I suppose there truly are miracles.”