GOE 08 - Bound By Darkness

Chapter 3

London, England

Dusk shrouded the narrow streets of London as the two men halted near a high hedge.

One was a slender, impossibly beautiful man with skin the color of rich cream and long copper hair he kept tamed in a tight braid. He might have passed for human if not for the metallic shimmer to the sterling silver eyes, and thick scent of herbs that clung to his tattered robe, which blended into the green bushes behind him.

The other was equally slender, although he didn’t possess the same unearthly grace, or beauty. He was of an indeterminate age with high Slavic cheekbones, and an icy blue gaze that held a cunning intelligence. And under normal circumstances he was stylishly dressed in a Gucci suit with his shoulder-length silver hair smoothed from his narrow face.

But these were far from normal circumstances.

After nearly three weeks hiding in the Florida swamps, Sergei Krakov was tired, filthy, and wishing to the gods he’d never become involved with the child he held in his arms.

Well, at least he was home now, he silently attempted to ease his raw nerves, heaving a sigh as his gaze ran over the eighteenth-century terrace house near Green Park.

The historical society claimed the building had been designed by Robert Adam. And pedestrians often halted to gawk at the classic beauty of the aging bricks, the elegant portico, and the tall windows with carved stone swags set above them. A brave few had even attempted to catch a glimpse through the door at the carved marble staircases and grand rooms that were filled with Chippendale furniture and priceless works of art.

A mistake that often led to their deaths when Marika-the-vampire had used the house as her lair.

With a curse, Sergei shut down any thought of his previous mistress.

It wasn’t because he was horrified at the memory of watching the vampire female have her head chopped off by her own niece. After four centuries of being the bitch’s whipping boy, he was happy as hell to see her turned into a pile of ash.

But for all her vicious temper and addiction to causing pain, she had been a powerful partner in crime. What demon was stupid enough to cross a vampire who was teetering on the edge of insanity? She was definitely a “kill first and ask questions later” kind of gal.

Now he was without her protection, which might have been fine if he’d been allowed to escape the Russian caves without having to barter for his safe passage with yet another lunatic, this time a crazed Sylvermyst, and a child who had been created by the most evil of all evils.

Perfect.

On cue, Tearloch poked him with the tip of the massive sword he was never without. Not even in his sleep.

Which was the only reason that Sergei hadn’t tried to strangle the bastard before now.

Or turned him into a frog.

“What is this place?” the dark fey demanded.

“Civilization.” Sergei breathed in the damp air. Summer had arrived, but the fog remained. Ah, good ol’ London. “You’re welcome to skulk around in the filthy swamps, but I’ve had enough. I want a bath and a bed with satin sheets.”

“Pampered human,” Tearloch sneered, his gaze roaming over the line of tidy houses. “These walls make you weak.”

“Mage, not human,” Sergei corrected in cold tones, allowing the air to fill with a hint of his magic. “And I don’t need to live like an animal to prove my powers.” He deliberately paused. “Do I?”

The fey snorted, although he made no effort to prove his superiority.

At the moment the two men were precariously balanced between hate and need. One misstep and they would erupt into violence that might very well leave them both dead.

“Does Ariyal know of this lair?” he instead demanded.

“What does it matter?” Sergei shrugged. “The vamps are obviously holding him hostage or he would already have tracked us down.”

The silver eyes narrowed. “Don’t be so certain. There could be any number of reasons he has not yet come in pursuit.”

At last convinced that the house was empty and that no enemies lurked among the shadows, Sergei tucked the motionless child beneath his ragged jacket and crossed the street.

“If you’re scared of the traitor then feel free to return to the muck,” he muttered.

Predictably Tearloch was directly on his heels.

“I’m not leaving without the child.”

“Then it would seem we’re at a stalemate.”

Sergei climbed the steps and muttered words of magic beneath his breath. There was a faint click before the door swung open. He stepped into the black-and-white-tiled foyer, reluctantly waiting for Tearloch to join him before he shut the door and reset the spell of warding.

Nothing would be able to enter the house without alerting him.

Then, climbing the curved marble staircase, he headed directly for a back nursery that was dusty from disuse. Crossing the Aubusson carpet that matched the pale yellow and lavender upholstery, he set the child in the hand-carved cradle. The babe didn’t stir, her eyes remaining firmly shut.

So far as Sergei could tell the child was still under the stasis spell that had kept her and her twin brother unchanged and impervious to the world for centuries.

Tearloch glanced down at the child, but he was wise enough not to try and touch her.

Sergei had wrapped the babe in a blanket that held a powerful curse. A Sylvermyst, or any fairy for that matter, foolish enough to try and steal the child would suffer excruciating pain.

“When do you intend to perform the ceremony?” the fey demanded.

Sergei grimaced.

Never sounded good to him.

A damned shame that he was caught between the proverbial rock and hard place.

Once upon a time he’d been stupid enough to believe he was destined for greatness, but after years of being exposed to Marika’s cruelty he’d realized that infesting the world with a horde of creatures that made her look like a Girl Scout wasn’t exactly a future to covet.

But while Tearloch hadn’t tried to take the child from him, Sergei hadn’t lived so long by being a moron. He knew that he was only alive because the Sylvermyst was depending on him to cast the spell that would resurrect the Dark Lord’s soul into the child. If he refused ...

Well, he didn’t intend to discover what would happen.

“I told you, I need to wait for the signs to align so I will be at my greatest strength,” he said, desperate to put off the inevitable.

Tearloch eyed him with blatant suspicion. “I begin to suspect that these mysterious signs are no more than an attempt to avoid fulfilling your duty.”

“Do you truly want to take the chance of ruining your best shot at returning your master—”

“Our master.”

“Because I’m not at the pinnacle of my power?” Sergei continued, ignoring the harsh correction.

Tearloch muttered a foreign word of power that made the air stir with a prickle of warning.

“You have until the full moon.”

“Is that a threat?” Sergei demanded at his most imperious.

In the less of the blink of an eye the tip of the massive sword was digging into Sergei’s throat, the Sylvermyst leaning forward until they were nose to nose.

“Yes.”

Sergei heard the sizzle as the strange blade absorbed the drop of blood from the pinprick wound in his throat. Then the fey was spinning away and heading out the door.

“Crazy bastard,” Sergei muttered.

It took Jaelyn nearly an hour and several layers of skin to at last wrestle out of the chains that held her captive. Once free, she gingerly inched her way out of the harems, her senses on full alert.

Damn, but the place was a disaster.

Shattered glass, crumbling stone walls, and missing dome ceilings that allowed the swirling mist to creep through the vast spiderweb of chambers.

She shuddered to imagine the power necessary to create such damage, even as she cursed Ariyal for having abandoned her on the godforsaken island.

Not only was she forced to constantly retrace her steps to avoid the seemingly perpetual sunlight that pierced the mists at unexpected junctures, but the endless series of corridors seemed to lead from one dead end to another.

Was it true?

Was it possible that she was trapped on Avalon?

Halting before an arched door with odd carvings that blocked her current path, she was debating the best means of destroying the heavy iron lock when she felt the air pressure shift behind her.

“I would not stray too far, Hunter,” a low female voice warned. “Morgana le Fay had a nasty habit of leaving traps for the unwary.”

“Holy ...” Spinning on her heel, Jaelyn flashed her fangs at the intruder. Expecting a massive demon who would match the crushing flare of energy that filled the dark corridor, she was caught off guard by the tiny female, who was no larger than a child, with a heart-shaped face and long silver hair that was pulled into a braid that hung nearly to the tiled floor. She frowned. The black almond eyes and razor-sharp teeth appeared remarkably similar to those of the spirit whom Ariyal had summoned to hold Jaelyn captive in the Russian caves, as did the long white robe. But this female appeared older. Oh yeah, and not a spirit. “Yannah?”

The female stepped forward, her hands folded neatly at her waist.

“No, I am Siljar.” She paused. “An Oracle.”

Ah. Of course. An Oracle would explain the deluge of power that battered against her.

Jaelyn hastily fell to her knees, her head bowed. Although she hadn’t been personally approached by the Commission when she was hired to track down Ariyal, she’d been schooled in the proper etiquette.

It was the same etiquette that a person used when confronted by any lethal predator who could kill you with a thought.

“Forgive me.” Jaelyn kept her head lowered. “You startled me.”

“Yes, you did appear to be preoccupied.”

Wondering how long the female had been watching, Jaelyn carefully glanced upward.

“I was attempting to escape.”

“Hmm.” The female tilted her head to one side. “I fear there is no means of escaping Avalon without fey blood.”

“You’re fey?”

She instantly regretted the impulsive question as Siljar wrinkled her nose in visible disgust.

“Certainly not.” Her brief annoyance was replaced by a sudden smile as she gave a wave of her hand, indicating that Jaelyn could rise. “But I am impervious to Morgana’s magic, which means I can come and go as I please. A fact that used to infuriate the woman.”

Jaelyn cautiously straightened, not foolish enough to believe that the danger had passed.

Oracles didn’t drop by for idle chitchat.

“You were acquainted with Morgana le Fay?” She politely kept the conversation ball rolling.

The smile widened to emphasize the razor-sharp teeth. “I had the pleasure of reminding her that she was not above the laws of the Commission.”

“From what I’ve heard the Queen of Bitches thought she should be ruling the world. I can’t imagine she was happy to be reminded she had to obey the laws.”

“It’s true our little visits tended to sour her mood.” The woman heaved a small sigh. “A pity she did not heed my warnings.”

Jaelyn glanced toward the crumbling walls. There had been endless rumors concerning Morgana’s last battle, but no one seemed willing to reveal what had actually happened to the woman.

“Is she dead?”

“Worse.”

“What—” Jaelyn abruptly bit off her question. “No, I don’t want to know.”

“A wise choice.” The Oracle’s black, unblinking gaze held a hint of warning. “I have discovered that curiosity does indeed kill the cat.”

Yow. Jaelyn squashed her lingering questions, fiercely reminding herself that for once she wasn’t the baddest, scariest thing in the room.

Not the happiest thought when she had to accept there was only one reason that an Oracle would seek her out.

She cleared her throat, forcing herself to stand with her spine straight and her shoulders squared.

“Ariyal mentioned that time passes differently here.”

“It does.”

“What’s the date?”

Siljar immediately understood her question.

“Three weeks have passed since you entered the mists.”

“Damn.” She’d missed her deadline. It didn’t matter that she’d been jerked onto an island wrapped in mystical mists that altered time. Or that there was a looming apocalypse. She’d been given three months by the Addonexus to track down Ariyal. And the head honchos of vampire hunters didn’t accept excuses. “I have failed to fulfill our contract.”

“The Sylvermyst is proving to be surprisingly resourceful,” Siljar agreed.

Resourceful?

“He’s a pain in the ass,” she muttered.

“A male is allowed to be a pain in the ass when he is so wondrously gorgeous,” Siljar murmured, shocking Jaelyn. “It’s a pity I’m not a few millennia younger.”

Jaelyn wisely kept her thoughts to herself. She had all the troubles she needed, thank you very much.

“Do you want me to return to the Addonexus?”

Siljar paused, as if puzzled by the question. “Why would I want such a thing?”

“The Ruah will send another Hunter to complete the contract,” she explained, referring to the traditional leader of the council.

“So you can be executed?”

Jaelyn shrugged. “My fate is irrelevant.”

“I must disagree.” Pressing her palms together, Siljar stepped forward, her unrelenting stare starting to make Jaelyn twitch with unease. “Your fate has become of utmost importance. As has Ariyal’s.”

Jaelyn knew she should be grateful that Siljar wasn’t in a hurry to have her executed. No matter what her training, she wasn’t anxious to take one for the team. But her spidey senses were tingling, warning her that she wasn’t going to like where this conversation was going.

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” the Oracle bluntly admitted. “The threads are shifting.”

Jaelyn wasn’t sure what bothered her the most.

The fact that the Oracle was baffled, or that she seemed to be implying that Jaelyn was a part of her confusion.

“Threads?”

Siljar gave a wave of her hand. “I am not a true seer, but I am capable of occasional visions, and more importantly I can detect those individuals who are to be woven into destiny to fulfill those visions.”

Jaelyn took a hasty step backward. “You can’t mean ...”

“You, Jaelyn.” She paused. Dramatic effect, anyone? “And Ariyal.”

Shit, shit, shit.

“That’s impossible.”

“Ah, the cold logic of a vampire.” Siljar smiled, but there was no missing the warning in the dark eyes. She didn’t like Jaelyn arguing. “But denying your fate will not alter it.”

“You can see my future?”

“No, as I said, I am not a seer,” Siljar reminded her, “but I do know that you are a thread.”

Jaelyn clenched her hands at her sides. “Is that why the Commission hired me to track down Ariyal?”

“No, when you were requested to bring the Sylvermyst before the Commission it was to question his intentions in remaining in this dimension rather than joining his brethren with their master.” A punishing energy swirled through the air as the demon’s eyes glowed with a sudden silver light before returning to black pools of mystery. “But the fabric of the future is changing and your destiny has been irrevocably entwined with Ariyal.”

Shaken by the glimpse of power contained within the tiny demon, Jaelyn chose her words with care.

“How can the future change?”

There was a long silence. As if the Oracle was debating the wisdom of sharing insider info. Then she gave a small shrug.

“There is always a certain measure of fluidity in matters of time, but it is more chaotic than usual.”

“Do I want to know why, or is that one of those ‘curiosity kills the cat’ things?”

“It indicates that there will soon be a powerful flux in the universe.”

Jaelyn grimaced, wishing that she hadn’t asked. Or that the demon hadn’t answered.

Or...

Hell. She scrubbed a hand over her weary face. She was tired, hungry, and wishing she could get a hold of Ariyal and kick his ass. This might not be entirely his responsibility, but she was willing to blame him.

“The return of the Dark Lord?” she hazarded.

Siljar considered before giving a shrug. “It is impossible to say.”

Yeah, sooooo not helping.

She shifted her concern from the looming end of the world to her own looming end.

“Well, if the future is in flux then maybe my elevation to being some mystical thread is nothing more than a cosmic glitch that will soon be forgotten.”

Siljar cocked her head to the side, her expression curious. “I thought Hunters were fearless?”

Jaelyn snorted. “Facing death is one thing; knowing I’m a part of destiny is quite another.”

“Is it destiny that troubles you?” She flashed her pointed teeth. “Or Ariyal?”

Was the woman trying to piss her off?

“It would seem they’re one and the same,” she muttered.

“Very true,” the demon agreed with a shrug of indifference. Then she gave a lift of her tiny hands. “Well, I must go.”

“Go?” Jaelyn took a hasty step forward. “Wait.”

“Yes?”

“Do you intend to leave me here?”

Siljar slowly blinked, like a lizard.

“Oh, did I not say?”

“Say what?”

“The terms of our contract have been altered.”

Oh ... crap.

Why did she suspect that the alteration didn’t include a one-way ticket to Maui to hunt fire pixies?

“You no longer want me to capture the Sylvermyst?” she asked, ever the optimist.

Or maybe it was sheer desperation.

“No.”

“Oh.” She didn’t bother to hide her relief. “Thank the gods.”

“I want you to remain with him and keep the Commission informed of his movements.”

Remain with him? Her brief moment of hope was crushed beneath a tidal wave of horrified disbelief.

It was bad enough to hunt down the damned Sylvermyst and haul him to the Commission. But to become Hutch to his Starsky?

Oh hell, no.

“Why?”

Pinpricks of pain stabbed deep into Jaelyn’s flesh, effective reminders that nasty rumors whispered about the Oracles were well earned.

“I have no need to explain.”

“Forgive me. I will, of course, do everything in my power to fulfill our contract.” She returned to her knees, bowing her head as she waited for the brutal pain to dissipate. “How much of a head start does he have on me?”

“Three days.”

Jaelyn grimaced. For her it had only been two hours since Ariyal had disappeared.

Damned mists.

“Do you know ...” She swallowed her question, and almost her tongue, as there was a loud pop and a small demon who looked nearly identical to Siljar made a sudden appearance, standing at the side of the older woman. “Holy crap!”

Siljar motioned to the familiar woman with the heart-shaped face and long gold hair that was pulled into a braid.

“This is Yannah, my daughter.”

“Yeah, we’ve met.” Jaelyn returned to her feet, her gaze never leaving the tiny demon who had helped Ariyal hold Jaelyn captive while they were in the Russian caves. “But at the time I thought she was a spirit that Ariyal conjured.”

“Such a yummy fairy.” Yannah heaved a dreamy sigh. “How could I resist?”

Jaelyn blinked. Good ... God.

Did Ariyal have this sort of effect on every female he met?

No wonder he was such an arrogant SOB.

“Yes, she can be quite naughty,” Siljar gently chided. “But she will be able to assist you.”

Naughty? That wasn’t the word Jaelyn would have used. But then again, she’d already pissed off Siljar more than was healthy. She wasn’t about to insult her daughter.

“I welcome any assistance she can offer,” she instead muttered.

Yep. Just call her Queen of Diplomats.

“She will take you to Ariyal,” Siljar informed her. “She will also be the one who will be responsible for contacting you to retrieve the information you have gathered.”

Jaelyn made one last bid for escape. “There are others who are trained in the arts of espionage... .”

“You have been chosen, Jaelyn,” Siljar pronounced, her expression unyielding.

If Jaelyn could have sighed, she would have. Instead she gave a grudging nod.

“So, I’m to spy on Ariyal and report my findings to Yannah?”

“It is more than keeping track of his movements,” Siljar corrected.

“More?”

“We must know the contents of his heart.”

Jaelyn frowned. “I can sense the souls of humans, but I’m not an empath who is capable of reading demons.”

Siljar shrugged. “Remain close enough and you’ll be capable of detecting the taint of the Dark Lord.”

For no logical reason, Jaelyn found herself annoyed by the Oracle’s words.

“I don’t like the bastard, but I can assure you that he hasn’t been infected,” she growled. “He’s determined to sacrifice the missing child rather than allow his evil master to be reborn.”

“That is his plan for the moment,” Siljar agreed. “It is vital that he is not swayed into ...”

“Switching teams,” Yannah finished for her.

Siljar smiled and patted her daughter on the head. As if she’d just performed a remarkable trick.

“Yes. Switching teams.”

Jaelyn understood their concern. Ariyal had admitted that he feared the Sylvermyst might be susceptible to the Dark Lord’s influence. And obviously Tearloch had already fallen victim to the madness.

But that didn’t make her the best choice to fulfill the contract.

In fact, she was fairly certain she was the last person who should be taking on the delicate task.

She wasn’t subtle, or sneaky, and she sure the hell wasn’t tactful.

She was a Hunter who knew how to track and kill.

End of story.

“There’s no guarantee that he’ll let me stay with him,” she warned.

For some reason her muttered words made Siljar chuckle. “I’m confident in your ability to convince him, my dear,” she assured her, turning her attention to the tiny demon at her side. “Are you ready, Yannah?”

The younger demon appeared far from happy. “If I must.”

Siljar folded her arms over her chest, her expression one of universal parental warning.

“And do try to behave yourself, child.”

“Fine.”

Yannah wrinkled her nose, giving a wave of her small hand. Instantly the air shimmered next to Jaelyn. As a vampire she couldn’t sense magic, but she knew a portal when she saw one.

“Wait,” she hissed, attempting to back away. She had feet for a reason. There was no need to be zapping from one place to another.

She had barely taken a step, however, when Yannah was behind her, planting her hands on Jaelyn’s ass and giving her a rough shove forward.

“In you go.”

It shouldn’t be possible for the tiny female to manhandle a vampire, but Jaelyn found herself tumbling into the shimmering air before she could regain her balance.

“No ... dammit.”

Blackness surrounded her and Jaelyn knew that she was being magically transported to another location, but she could sense nothing. And that was worse than if she was being tortured by a horde of Copaka demons.

At last she was jerked from the strange nothingness and, falling forward, she barely got her hands stretched out before she did a face-plant.

She felt the skin being ripped off her palms as she hit the damp pavement, but as she rose to her feet she was far more concerned with the knowledge that she’d just been dumped into the middle of London. And that she wasn’t alone.

Baring her fangs she whirled to study the narrow street that was shrouded in shadows.

It was just past midnight, she easily determined, and most of the humans were safely tucked in the expensive townhouses that lined the road. In the distance she could sense a park with dew fairies dancing among the trees, and a handful of hellhounds sniffing along the Thames River, but it was the thick scent of herbs that had her bracing herself for the slender male form that barreled from behind a hedge to knock her back to the ground.

Unable to rip out his heart or suck him dry, Jaelyn was forced to allow the damned Sylvermyst to cover her with his hard body, a large silver dagger pressed to her throat.

At least that’s what she told her battered pride.

Perched above her, Ariyal’s bronzed eyes widened in shock. Then a wicked amusement suddenly shimmered in the streetlights.

“Jaelyn?”

“This job is really starting to piss me off.”