Hunt the Darkness

Chapter Twenty-Three

Roke stumbled backward, blinded by the light that surrounded his mate. Dammit. He didn’t know what was going on, but he had to get Sally away from the damned demon.

Regaining his balance, he narrowed his gaze and forced himself to stare into the painful glow.

It took a second to realize that the light wasn’t just shimmering around Sally. It was actually spilling out of her, as if the sun was captured inside her and couldn’t entirely be contained.

He froze in shock.

God almighty.

With her autumn hair floating on an unseen breeze and her eyes glowing with a pure ebony, she didn’t look entirely real.

She was . . . magnificent.

A beauty beyond his comprehension.

Giving a sharp shake of his head, Roke struggled to think beyond the dazzling, near destructive sight of his mate. He’d worry about her sudden ability to glow later. For now all that mattered was fleeing from the seemingly indestructible Brandel.

Pronto.

Shifting his attention toward the demon who Sally continued to hold around the neck, Roke prepared to launch another attack. He’d even taken a step forward when he realized that Brandel wasn’t fighting against Sally’s hold.

In fact, his black, crimson-slit eyes were stretched wide and his pudgy face frozen in an expression of horror.

Was the light hurting him?

It was impossible to tell with a creature who didn’t have a solid physical form.

Muttering a curse, Roke clutched his dagger and took another step forward. There had to be some way of disabling the demon long enough to get Sally away.

Brandel made an odd noise as the light burned even brighter, the heat becoming nearly unbearable.

“Roke, stay back,” Sally hissed between clenched teeth.

He scowled. Did she truly expect him to stand aside and watch her fight the demon on her own?

Meeting the dark gaze that blazed with the unearthly light, he was forced to accept that was exactly what she expected.

His fangs ached, his entire body trembling with the fierce need to leap into the battle, but he leashed his primitive instincts.

This wasn’t Sally being stubborn. Or trying to assert her aggravating independence.

In this moment she was a warrior giving commands that were meant to be obeyed.

Feeling as helpless as a damned dew fairy, Roke forced his feet to carry him backward, his gaze locked on her beautiful face until the light grew so bright it surrounded her and the petrified Brandel behind an incandescent aura.

Christ. He couldn’t see her.

The earth shook beneath his feet, the nearby highway buckling beneath the stress of his brutal terror. Then, when he knew he couldn’t stand and watch another second, there was a sizzle in the air followed by an explosion of heat that sent him flying.

Roke plowed into the side of the Land Rover with enough force to crush the passenger door, but ignoring his broken ribs and punctured lung, he untangled himself from the twisted metal.

“Sally,” he roared, surging to his feet to discover his mate lying on the ground.

He hissed in shock as he caught sight of the terrain that had been flattened and charred by the explosion. In several spots the grass had been seared away to leave nothing but blackened dirt. And in other places deep gouges scarred the landscape.

Holy shit. It looked like ground zero with Sally collapsed in the center.

Stark fear clutched his heart as he hurried toward his mate. At a distance she appeared unhurt, but he needed her in his arms.

Nearly at her side, Roke grimaced as he leaped over the large, greasy spot of . . . sludge. Christ, was that all that was left of Brandel?

Roke knelt on the grass that remained unharmed around Sally’s body, gently wrapping her in his arms and pulling her against his chest. The brilliant light had faded, but her skin remained warm to the touch and the scent of peaches saturated the air, reminding him of the power she had so recently wielded.

Not that he gave a shit that she’d just proven she was one of the most dangerous creatures to walk the earth. All he cared about was holding her tight as his senses swept over her, searching for injuries.

Finding no wounds, he frowned as he studied her pale face and the shadows beneath the heavy fringe of her lashes. Had she burned herself out with such a large burst of magic?

And if she had, what did he do to help her?

“Sally?” he urged softly, relief shooting through him as her lashes fluttered up to reveal her dazed eyes.

“Roke?”

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” she instantly denied. “Just drained. I’ll be fine.”

His hand wasn’t entirely steady as he smoothed a strand of golden red hair away from her face.

“What the hell happened?”

She wrinkled her nose, her lashes lowering to shield her eyes. Almost as if she couldn’t meet his gaze.

“I’m not entirely sure. The magic just—”

“Exploded?”

“Yeah, something like that.” She pulled herself out of his arms, silently taking in the devastation that surrounded them. “The demon?” she at last demanded.

Roke rigidly squashed the need to pull her back into his embrace. She was obviously rattled by her . . . volatile surge of magic.

He got it.

Although it’d been centuries since he’d been a foundling, he could still remember his shock the first time his powers had manifested and he’d collapsed a tunnel on his head.

It’d taken him hours to crawl out of the rubble and a few decades to become comfortable with his destructive talent.

“There,” he said, pointing toward the pile of grease, determined to make her proud of what she was becoming.

She shuddered, rising to her feet to take a step away from the charred remains of Brandel.

“That’s all that’s left of him?”

“That’s it.” He kept his tone light as he straightened to stand at her side. “You were quite impressive.”

“She was brilliant,” Levet pronounced, waddling forward to offer the box to Sally. “Truly magnifique.”

Sally clutched the box in a white-knuckled grip, still staring at the scorched ground that surrounded them.

“We need to return to Chicago,” Roke abruptly announced.

Ridiculously, Sally frowned at his announcement. “Why?”

“You’re tired.”

She shook her head. “No.”

Growling with impatience, he moved to stand directly in front of her, his hand cupping her cheek.

“You can’t lie to me, Sally,” he reminded her. “I can sense your weariness.”

“I want to be done with this.”

His brows drew together, his shoulders squaring as he prepared for yet another battle of wills.

“The demon is dead. What does it matter if you continue your search tonight or next week?”

“We don’t know if he was the only demon after the box,” she said.

“All the more reason to return to Chicago until you can recover your strength.”

She reached up to grasp his wrist, pressing his fingers tighter against her face as she studied him with a pleading expression.

“Roke, we can’t move forward until I’ve dealt with my past,” she said softly.

“Move forward. Or move on without me?” he demanded, revealing his greatest fear.

She closed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath. “This has to be done.”

For a crazed minute he considered the satisfaction of tossing her over his shoulder and hauling her back to Styx’s lair.

Or better yet, his own lair, where he could spend the next several centuries convincing her that the past didn’t matter.

Then, with a painful effort, he lowered his hand and stepped back.

Sally had made her decision to save her father. Nothing, not even his dubious charms, was going to change her mind.

“Gargoyle,” he snapped, grabbing his leather jacket off the ground and pulling it over his naked torso.

“Oui?”

“Return to Chicago and inform Styx what has happened.”

The tiny demon wrinkled his snout, his hands on his hips. “What if you have need of my skills?”

Roke raked an impatient hand through his hair. “Do you want to fight whatever had enough power to trap a Chatri?”

“Ah.” The gray eyes widened at the mere thought. “I should perhaps return so the vampires do not worry where you have gone.”

“Good choice,” Roke said dryly.

Levet moved to take Sally’s hand, pressing her fingers to his lips.

“Au revoir, ma belle. Return to us swiftly.”

Sally smiled with a forced confidence. “I intend to do my best.”

Roke’s growl trickled through the air. Sally didn’t need to do her best. It was his job to make sure she was kept safe.

“Are you ready?” he demanded.

She nodded. “Yes.”

Roke glanced toward the gargoyle. “Tell Styx to keep his phone on.”

“Oui.”

In silence, Roke led Sally to the Land Rover, waiting for her to climb over the driver’s seat since the passenger door was trashed. Then, settling in his seat, he started the engine and turned the vehicle onto the highway.

As the silence continued, Roke covertly studied Sally’s tense profile.

Was she worrying about the danger of trying to rescue her father? Or was she still brooding on the tidal wave of magic she’d so recently unleashed?

Whatever her thoughts were, they were sending frissons of unease through their mating bond.

“Why do you keep looking at me?” she at last spoke, her expression troubled.

“I like looking at you.” He smiled wryly. “I like touching you even better.”

“It’s not that,” she said, refusing to believe his teasing words. “Are you—”

“Sally?” he prompted as she struggled to share her dark thoughts.

“Are you scared of me now?”

He frowned at her abrupt question. “What are you talking about?”

She bit her bottom lip. “My powers are becoming dangerous.”

“You’ve always been dangerous, my love,” he drawled, recalling the moment he’d caught sight of her.

He hadn’t stood a chance.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t a nuclear bomb waiting to explode,” she muttered.

Ah. So it was her combustible magic that was troubling her.

“Your powers will be unstable until they plateau,” he said, his tone matter of fact. “Once that happens you’ll gain command of them.”

“What if I hurt you before I gain command?”

He was caught off guard by her question.

She was worried about him?

That was . . . unexpected.

Did that mean she was beginning to care for him? Genuinely care for him and not just because of their bond?

He latched on to the faint hope with a desperation that was downright pathetic.

“You won’t,” he assured her.

The dark eyes smoldered with frustration. “You don’t know that.”

“I trust you.”

Her fingers tightened on the box, her tension a palpable force in the air.

“Roke, maybe it would be better if I did this alone.”

He slammed on the brakes, sending the vehicle skidding onto the shoulder.

Sally gasped in surprise, her eyes widening as he reached across the seat to grasp her arms. He dragged her forward until they were nose to nose.

“Don’t ever say that again.”

Sally had heard the phrase “tugging the tail of a tiger,” but she’d never actually given it much thought.

Now she knew exactly what it meant.

Roke’s power blasted through the confined space, making the vehicle tremble and the windows frost over.

He was clearly pissed by her suggestion, which, as far as she was concerned, was totally unfair.

Hadn’t he seen what she’d done to that demon?

For God’s sake, the Nebule had been reduced to a weird glob of tar.

Okay, she wasn’t sorry that she’d killed the demon. He would certainly have squashed her without a second thought.

But it wasn’t as if she’d targeted Brandel and released her power to destroy him. She hadn’t even known she could destroy him.

The magic had simply crashed through her barriers, filling her with a heat that was so intense she couldn’t contain it.

If Roke hadn’t stayed back, he would be a tiny pile of ash.

A thought that twisted her gut with a savage pain.

She couldn’t let that happen.

Even if it meant finishing her quest on her own.

Not that her steely-eyed mate appeared to be in the mood to be reasonable.

As usual he looked like he wanted to bite something.

Preferably her.

“Roke—”

“No,” he interrupted, refusing to listen to reason.

Typical.

She heaved a frustrated sigh. “You are without a doubt the most stubborn creature I’ve ever met.”

The silver eyes narrowed. “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

She jutted her chin. She wasn’t stubborn. She was . . . determined.

Completely different.

“There’s no reason for you to put yourself at risk,” she pointed out, ridiculously aware of the press of his slender fingers into her flesh. Now wasn’t the time to be remembering how those fingers had explored her body with exquisite dedication only a few hours before. “He’s my father and it’s my duty to release him, not yours.”

“You’re my duty,” he growled, unexpectedly kissing her with a stark need that stole her annoyance. “And my pleasure,” he murmured against her lips. “Without you, I can’t survive.”

“Stubborn,” she breathed in resignation.

His lips brushed softly against hers before Roke was abruptly pulling back, his gaze locked on the box that abruptly flared with light.

“Sally?”

“This is the place,” she muttered.

“Here?” He scowled. “It’s way too convenient that we’d stop at the precise place we need to be.”

Sally sympathized with his suspicion. It was way too convenient.

But she was beginning to understand that she wasn’t actually chasing her father, but rather finding a location that would allow his portal to align with this world.

It was fluid.

Holding Roke’s gaze, she waited until he muttered a low curse and slid out of the vehicle. Sally was quickly crawling out to stand beside him, no longer looking out of the box as she could feel the magic calling to her.

“This way,” she murmured, stumbling through the overgrown culvert that ran beside the road before making her way to the clump of oak trees at the edge of a field.

“I don’t like this.” Roke followed behind her, his disapproval crawling over her skin with a sharp chill.

Pretending she didn’t have a sulking six-foot-plus vampire on her heels, Sally walked between the trees, breathing deeply of the scent of moss and rich earth.

Was that the magic?

Her silent question was answered when an unmistakable tingle heated her blood.

“Here,” she said, stopping abruptly in the center of a small clearing.

Coming to a halt at her side, Roke continued to scan the shadows between the nearby trees, his muscles coiled to strike.

“Now what?”

“I’m not sure.” She leaned down to place the box at her feet, her heart leaping as a shimmering became visible in the air directly in front of her. “Oh.”

Unable to detect magic, Roke scowled in confusion. “What?”

“I see it.”

“See what?”

“The opening to the portal.”

She took a step forward only to be halted by a ruthless grip on her upper arm.

“What are you doing? You can’t just charge in there,” Roke snapped. “If your father is being held prisoner, then there must be guards.”

Tilting back her head, she met his seething gaze. “Waiting here isn’t going to change that.”

“Fine.” He reached to pull a gun from the holster at the small of his back. “Send me in and I’ll deal with the guards.”

“I can’t.”

He scowled. “Can’t or won’t?”

She waved an impatient hand. “I’m not entirely sure how it works, but we’ll need my magic to lead us to my father. Even if I could get you into the portal without me, you would be wandering around blind.”

He didn’t like it, but Roke grudgingly accepted she was right.

“Dammit.”

She stepped toward the iridescent opening. “Let’s go before I lose my nerve.”

“If I thought that was a possibility, I’d tie you to the nearest tree,” he muttered.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a . . . man.”

“Is that an insult?”

“Absolutely.”

Taking a deep breath, Sally waited for Roke to place a hand on her shoulder before she took the final step through the mist and entered the portal.

Instantaneously she was surrounded by a kaleidoscope of colors that swirled around her in a dizzying dance.

“Oh,” she breathed.

His fingers tightened on her shoulder. “Can you see something?”

“Strands of beauty,” she said, sensing they were moving through the portal.

“Are you screwing with me?”

“The magic is filled with the most beautiful colors,” she said, trying to explain her fascination. This magic was different from her human spells, or even the magic used by the traditional fey. This was richer, fuller . . . lethally addictive. “It’s hypnotizing.”

He kept his voice low as he muttered his own opinion of magic, his jacket brushing her spine as he pressed close behind her.

Leaning back, Sally allowed herself to briefly enjoy the cool power that wrapped around her.

It felt so natural.

Even vital.

As if she’d become so accustomed to the sense of this vampire being nestled deep inside her that she instinctively depended on his unwavering strength.

It was a dangerous realization, but she wasn’t in the mood to worry about it.

Not when there was a good chance she wasn’t going to survive the night.

On that cheery thought Roke suddenly stiffened, a growl rumbling in his chest.

“I smell wine.”

She caught the scent a mere second after Roke. “Father,” she breathed, straightening to try to peer through the swirls of magic.

“There’s something else,” Roke muttered.

She was distracted from his warning as her father’s voice filled her head.

“Sally.”

Turning, she watched as the strands of magic parted to reveal Sariel lying on what looked like a dirt floor.

The air was squeezed from her lungs as her gaze took in the sight of his motionless form drenched in a sickly green glow. He was as beautiful as he’d been in the meadow with his golden hair spilling over the ground and his pale features so perfect they might have been carved in marble.

But as she studied his elegant form she detected the white robe was now a grimy gray and so frayed it barely covered him while his silver headband had become tarnished.

“There he is.” She hurried forward, only to run headfirst into an invisible wall. “Damn.” She rubbed her abused nose. “There’s a barrier.”

“At last,” her father purred inside her head. “Come to me, my daughter.”

She ignored Roke’s frown, speaking out loud. “I can’t get past the barrier.”

“Release your powers,” Sariel urged. “They will join with mine.”

Her powers?

She grimaced, not overly enthusiastic at the thought of releasing the torrent of uncontrollable magic when she didn’t have a clue what would happen.

She could potentially crush the portal and kill them all.

Or lose control and hurt Roke.

Still, what choice did she have?

With a slow nod she held her hand toward the barrier, allowing herself to concentrate on the magic that had so recently proven to be lethal.

“Sally, what are you doing?” Roke rasped, grasping her wrist as she began to glow with a golden light.

“Joining my powers with my father,” she murmured, her gaze remaining trained on her father.

Was there a hint of a glow around his unmoving body?

“Dammit. This could be a trap.”

She turned her head to meet his worried gaze, her expression pleading.

“I’m sorry, Roke, but I have to try.”

His lips parted, no doubt to continue the argument, but with a hiss of warning he was spinning to the side, his fangs fully exposed.

“Something’s coming.” He paused, using his senses to search what was nothing but darkness to him. “Brandel.”

Sally flinched, forced to remember the greasy spot that was all she’d left of the demon.

“He’s dead.”

“No loss,” a voice drawled as a large, bronzed male began to form from a black mist.

Sally’s eyes widened as the creature solidified.

Completely naked the stranger had the face of a Greek god with a halo of golden curls. His velvet brown eyes flickered to reveal slits of red that proved he was related to Brandel. Not that there seemed to be any love lost.

“The bastard had become too greedy for his own good,” the stranger murmured, smiling at Sally’s shock.

“Sally,” her father’s voice cut through her sudden burst of fear. “Concentrate on your powers.”

Licking her lips she glanced toward her mate. “I have to free Sariel.”

His lips flattened with disapproval, but he gave a nod as he pulled out his dagger and stepped around her.

“I’ll keep him distracted.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Be careful.”