Hunt the Darkness

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Leaving Styx to deal with his endless duties as Anasso, Roke headed directly into the moon-drenched gardens.

He wasn’t intending to stick his nose into Sally’s private meeting with her father. That would be . . . wrong, wouldn’t it?

But, if his lazy stroll happened to take him in the same direction of his mate, then he couldn’t help if he happened to overhear their conversation.

A fine plan that was interrupted by the blond-haired berserker who almost instantly joined him near a marble fountain.

Cyn had proven to be invaluable help when they’d arrived at Styx’s lair with a gaggle of terrified fey. While Troy had been busy contacting the family members of the recently returned prisoners, Cyn had not only revealed a surprising kindness as he’d urged them to their various rooms, but he’d also managed to contact several local fey who brought food and clothing that were specifically designed to make the nearly comatose fey feel at home.

He was dressed similar to Roke in faded jeans and tight black tee, although Cyn chose shitkickers instead of Roke’s knee-high moccasins.

As usual he’d braided the front strands of his long hair and tied them off with metal beads, while he had his favorite dagger strapped to his upper leg and a handgun holstered on his hip.

Never let it be said Cyn didn’t know how to rock the screw-with-me-and-die vibe.

They walked in silence until they neared the marble grotto in the center of the garden.

“So you’ll be returning to your clan?” Cyn abruptly demanded.

Roke grimaced. It was a discussion he’d been putting off.

“Once Sally is comfortable with the idea,” he said.

Cyn sent him a knowing glance. “You think that might be a problem?”

“I’m not sure.”

“What if it is?”

Roke shrugged. His decision had been made.

“Then I hand the position to Kale. He’s a competent leader who I trust to protect my people.”

Cyn came to a sharp halt, a blatant horror etched onto his bluntly chiseled features.

“You would walk away from your clan?”

Roke stopped beside his friend, folding his arms over his chest.

“Without hesitation,” he admitted. “Nothing is more important to me than making Sally happy.”

Cyn gave an exaggerated shudder. “Better you than me.”

Roke laughed. Only weeks ago he’d been nurturing a sense of outrage at being stuck with Sally as his mate for all of eternity.

Even when he’d known in the depths of his heart that he was never, ever going to allow her to escape.

Fate seemed to have a peculiar sense of humor.

“Your mate is out there,” he warned his friend. “And chances are you’ll find her when you least expect it.”

“Don’t be trying to curse me.” Cyn made a hasty sign to ward off evil. “I’m a vampire who fully embraces his freedom.”

Roke smiled wryly. Well wasn’t that the truth?

“By freedom you mean big-busted nymphs?”

Cyn waggled his brows. “Or fairies. Or sprites. I’m not choosy.”

“No shit.” Roke rolled his eyes. “Will you be leaving for Ireland?”

“Aye. I . . .” The vampire frowned as Roke went rigid and his power shook the ground. “Roke?”

“Goddammit,” Roke growled, racing toward the nearby gate as fear exploded in the pit of his belly. “Not again.”

Cyn kept pace beside him, pulling his gun as Roke’s temper shattered the marble benches to dust.

“Tell me what’s going on,” the clan chief commanded.

Roke could barely speak, a dark panic threatening to cloud his mind.

“Sally.”

“She’s hurt?”

“She’s gone.”

Cyn was wise enough to avoid the stone archway as it crumbled into a pile of rubble, instead following Roke as he smoothly vaulted over the high fence and headed into the nearby woods.

“Gone where?”

“I don’t know,” Roke snapped, his senses spreading through the neighborhood for any hint of his mate. “She was here one minute and gone the next.”

Cyn muttered a low curse. “Could it have been a portal?”

“Yes.” Roke skidded to a stop, bending down to touch the ground that was still warm from the magic. “Here.”

Cyn closed his eyes as he tested the air. “The Chatri.”

“Goddamn that bastard.” Roke straightened, wishing he’d left the King of the Chatri trapped in the Nebule’s prison. He’d known as soon as he’d met the arrogant ass he was going to be trouble. “He stole my mate.”

Cyn shifted his feet, looking uncomfortable. “Roke, you can’t be sure.”

Was he kidding? Roke shook his head.

“There are no other scents beyond Sally and Sariel. He had to have been the one who took her.”

“I’m not suggesting he wasn’t the one who formed the portal.”

Roke narrowed his gaze. “Then what are you saying?”

Cyn grimaced. “Maybe it wasn’t a kidnapping.”

Common sense warned Roke that his friend had a point. It wasn’t, after all, the first time that Sally had disappeared. Hell, it wasn’t even the second time.

But he wasn’t currently listening to common sense.

He was listening to his heart that whispered Sally wouldn’t abandon him.

Not without speaking to him first.

“Sally wouldn’t have left me.”

Cyn carefully considered his words. Wise vampire.

“Sariel is her father.”

Roke shook his head. “He’s a selfish bastard who destroyed her dreams of finding a family who actually cared about her.”

“Still, family is family,” Cyn pressed, speaking words that Roke didn’t want to hear. “Especially to a young woman who never had one.”

No. Roke wouldn’t doubt her.

He had to believe that she’d been taken against her will.

It was the only way to keep a grip on his sanity.

“She wouldn’t have left,” he stubbornly insisted. “Not without telling me she was going.”

Cyn tempted a swift, painful death. “She did before.”

Roke gave a low growl.

Enough.

He wasn’t going to waste time arguing. Not when Sally was being taken farther and farther away from him.

“She was forced,” he muttered, yanking his dagger from beneath his leather jacket before he was running through the trees with fluid ease.

There was a startled sound behind him before Cyn was racing to catch up.

“Where the hell are you going?” he rasped, his gaze scanning the thinning trees for any potential danger.

“I can feel her.”

Cyn scowled. “Feel her?”

Roke slammed his fist against the middle of his chest. “Here.”

“You’ve lost your mind, buddy,” Cyn muttered as they hit the street and Roke picked up his pace until they were traveling too fast for the human eye to follow.

“Maybe.” He really didn’t give a shit. Still, as eager as he might be to risk his life, he wasn’t nearly so ready to put Cyn in danger. “Return to Styx and—”

“No way,” his companion interrupted, continuing to scan their surroundings with a wary gaze.

Roke frowned. “This isn’t your fight, Cyn.”

The vampire kept his gun at his side, clearly determined to play the role of bodyguard.

“It is now.”

Roke rubbed the aching void in the center of his chest. His connection to Sally remained steady, but it was . . . muffled. As if something or someone was trying to hide her.

It didn’t take a genius to know who that might be.

“Why?” he demanded of his companion.

“Obviously, you need me.”

Roke snorted. It wasn’t often that anyone dared to imply that he was anything but fully competent at taking care of himself.

“I do?”

They reached the outskirts of the chichi suburbs, and Roke veered toward the empty farmlands, barely noticing the lesser demons who scattered in terror at the sight of two powerful vampires on the hunt.

“If Sally is with the Chatri then you need someone who has a basic knowledge of the fey,” Cyn explained. “So it’s me or Troy, the Prince of Imps.”

Roke grimaced. The only thing worse than traveling with the ridiculous imp would be another road trip with the gargoyle.

“This could be dangerous,” he warned. “I’m not Sariel’s favorite person.”

“Hard to believe,” Cyn said dryly.

“He might fight to keep Sally,” Roke pointed out.

Not that he truly hoped he could convince Cyn to return to Styx’s lair. Telling the berserker that there was danger involved was almost a certain guarantee he’d be first in line.

Cyn didn’t disappoint.

Smiling with irrational anticipation, Cyn ran his tongue down the length of one massive fang.

“All the more reason you need me.”

Roke did.

Although he didn’t know if Cyn’s knowledge of fey would actually help when it came to the mysterious Chatri, he was a powerful warrior who could slash his way through a horde of trolls without batting an eye.

“I owe you one,” he said.

“Aye, you do,” Cyn agreed. “Don’t think I won’t collect.”

When Sally was young, she was addicted to fairy tales.

What lonely little girl who was raised by a neglectful mother in bleak, isolated cabins wouldn’t dream of a world where beautiful people twirled through elegant ballrooms dressed in shimmering gowns and sparkling jewels? And where handsome princes tumbled into love with Cinderella even if she was a gawky, introverted witch instead of a pretty princess.

But dreaming of fairy tales and actually being dumped into one were two very different things, she quickly discovered.

She was still struggling against Sariel’s hold when they’d stepped from the portal into a large foyer with massive chandeliers and walls painted with exquisite murals.

Which meant she was completely unprepared for the swift arrival of her sisters and brothers who’d welcomed their father home with a stiff, but seemingly genuine happiness at his return. That had been followed by an endless line of Chatri who viewed their king’s arrival with varying degrees of pleasure.

All of them were, of course, breathtakingly beautiful with hair that ranged from pale gold to brilliant red and lean, elegant bodies dressed in silk robes that were heavily embroidered with priceless jewels. And all of them eyed her with a blatant curiosity that made her want to crawl behind the nearest fluted column and disappear from view.

There was none of the disapproval she’d been expecting, but it was still unnerving being the center of attention.

Her discomfort only grew as they were whisked away to a banquet hall that was twice the size of most football fields and filled with long rosewood tables and high chairs carved by the hand of an artist. The tableware was made of gold and crystal that reflected the magical balls of light that danced near the coved ceiling.

Once they were seated several dozen fairylike servants dressed in modest robes entered with trays laden with fruit and freshly baked bread and bowls of honey.

Sally had dutifully eaten, unwilling to become even more of a spectacle, but as the meal had ended and several musicians had settled in the balcony at the far end of the hall to fill the air with an exquisite melody, she’d become increasingly loud in her demand that she be returned to Roke.

Sariel smiled, promising that she would soon be allowed to speak with him even as he had lifted a hand toward Fallon, one of her sisters, and insisted the female take Sally to her rooms so she could bathe and change her clothes while her new rooms were being prepared.

Swallowing her angry words, Sally had little choice but to follow the beautiful female through marble corridors. Her father might be a powerful king, but in many ways he acted like a child. The more she insisted to be returned to Roke, the harder he would dig in his heels.

She would obviously have to pretend she was content to remain until she could find some way to escape.

Or at least contact Roke.

Fallon took several side corridors, making Sally wonder if there was any end to the sprawling palace, and then they entered a set of rooms that made her breath catch.

There was a delightful warmth in the delicate tapestries that covered the walls and the thickly cushioned furniture that was built for comfort rather than to impress. A cascade of water spilled through a wide crack in the flagstone floor, lined by flowers with vivid blooms in shades from crimson to brilliant sapphire.

It was as if a tiny meadow had just appeared in the center of her room.

Even the attached bathroom was filled with fragrant blooms that surrounded the sunken bath where Sally quickly washed and pulled on a satin gown that had genuine emeralds sewn into the neckline.

She suspected the casual beauty of the rooms was a reflection of her half-sister who lacked the rigid decorum of the others.

Returning to the main living room, Sally briefly put aside her gnawing need to speak with Roke and studied the female who was her sister.

It was a given she was beautiful.

Her hair was the color of a sunrise; gold brushed with hints of pale rose. Her eyes were rich amber with flecks of emerald. And her ivory features were so perfect they didn’t look real.

But there was a genuine friendliness in her smile as she moved toward Sally and gently placed a delicate gold chain around her neck that held a flawless pendant.

“There,” she murmured in satisfaction, stepping back to inspect Sally’s appearance. “You look beautiful.”

Sally wrinkled her nose. “I appreciate the words, but we both know I’ll never make the ranks of beautiful. Especially not here.” She shook her head as she remembered the crowd of females who looked like they should have wings and halos. Only angels should be that gorgeous. “If I was vain, I would have slit my wrists the moment I arrived.”

A shadow darkened Fallon’s amber eyes. “Physical perfection is tedious.”

Sally snorted. “Says the female who can claim physical perfection.”

“You have captured far more attention than I have ever received.”

“Yeah.” Sally shuddered. That sort of attention she could do without. “Because I’m a freak.”

Fallon absently strolled toward the windows where the glow of the sun bathed her in a golden light. Sally frowned. Not out of envy, although she was female enough to feel a pang of regret that she would never be able to compete with such stunning beauty, but at the realization that time obviously moved differently here.

When they’d left Chicago it’d been ten o’clock in the evening.

So had they gone back in time or forward?

Or did the sun never set here?

She needed to find out.

Fallon slowly turned back to meet Sally’s curious gaze. “No, it’s because you’re . . . alive.”

Well that was true enough. She was most certainly alive, although it’d been a close call on more occasions than she wanted to remember.

“No thanks to my parents,” she agreed with a wry smile.

“No one’s more surprised than I am that I survived their separate efforts to get me killed.”

“Oh, it’s not that. We had no idea that Father had—”

“Created a mongrel?” she helpfully supplied.

“Created a sister for us.”

Sister. Sally tested the word in her mind. It felt . . . strange. But terrifyingly wonderful.

“Then I’m confused,” she said. “You said you were surprised I’m alive.”

“No, we’re fascinated by the life force that shimmers around you.”

Sally blinked. “Oh.”

“You’re a vivid burst of energy that is nearly blinding,” Fallon continued. “We have all become too complacent with our existence. We drift from day to day, barely noticing that we have forgotten to live.”

Sally tried to be sympathetic. Not easy when she’d spent most of her life being hunted like an animal.

“A peaceful existence can’t be all bad.”

“Peace is different from stasis,” Fallon pointed out, her calm demeanor not entirely disguising a bone-deep frustration that gnawed deep inside her. “We have forgotten the thrill of not knowing what will happen next. The breathless excitement of passion. The beauty of a future filled with endless possibilities.” She smiled with a wistful yearning. “For us, you are a breath of fresh air.”

Sally moved toward her sister. She might not fully understand how anyone could not be content growing up in a family that at least seemed to care for one another and surrounded by such beauty, but she better than anyone understood that outward appearances meant nothing.

“Fallon, are you not happy here?” she asked softly.

The young female heaved a faint sigh. “I will admit that I have longed for the opportunity to travel away from our homeland.”

That didn’t seem such an outrageous dream. Unless females weren’t allowed to travel away from their family?

Many demon societies were still obnoxiously dominated by males.

“Have you discussed this with your fiancé?” she cautiously probed. The last thing she wanted was to stir a mutiny between Fallon and the crimson-haired warrior who she’d introduced as her soon-to-be mate.

Fallon instantly shook her head. “He would not understand.”

“He would if he loves you.”

“Love?” Her sister looked baffled by the mere concept of a love match. “Our marriage will be the joining of two powerful houses. Nothing more. The Chatri no longer seek their true mates.”

Sally tried not to grimace.

She was beginning to understand her sister’s desire to travel away from paradise.

What woman wouldn’t want a fling before being forced into a loveless marriage that was destined to last an eternity?

“That’s terrible,” she muttered.

Fallon shrugged. “It’s our tradition.”

“But . . .” Sally forgot what she was going to say when the chime of a bell echoed through the room. “What’s that?”

Her sister stiffened, her teeth gnawing on her lower lip with a nervous gesture that was identical to Sally’s habit.

“You must swear not to tell anyone,” she at last said, her voice so low Sally could barely hear her.

Sally nodded, deeply curious. “I swear.”

Hurrying across the room, Fallon locked the door before moving to a heavy tapestry that was hung on a far wall.

“Watch this.”

Fallon tugged aside the tapestry and pressed her hand against the paneled wall. There was a faint glow around her fingers before a hidden door slid open.

Sally raised her brows in shock. “A secret room?”

Fallon nodded, motioning for Sally to follow as she stepped through the door.

Intrigued, Sally swiftly trailed behind her sister, not certain what to expect.

Probably a good thing since she would never have guessed it would be a barren room that had been carved from pure stone. There were no windows, but fairy lights danced in the shadows of the low ceiling, revealing the numerous wooden bowls that had been carefully arranged on the stone floor.

Each bowl was a different size and made from a different wood, but they each held a shallow pool of water.

“Wow.” Sally gave a bemused laugh. “It’s like the Batcave.”

Fallon frowned. “The . . . ah. Batman. That is a human television show, is it not?”

“Yes.” Sally studied her sister in surprise. “How did you know?”

“My talent is to scry beyond our homeland,” Fallon said. “I have long been intrigued by your world.”

Ah. That explained the bowls. Sally had a basic ability to scry, but she needed an anchor to direct her, like a strand of hair to connect her to the person she was searching for. Not to mention the fact that it drained her to the point of exhaustion to maintain one search.

She shook her head in wonder at the images that flickered nonstop on the surface of the water in each bowl.

The amount of energy each scry must be sucking from Fallon was staggering, but she didn’t look the least affected.

Amazing.

“So why the secrecy?” she asked, knowing she’d be eager to display such talent.

Fallon’s smile faded. “My . . . fiancé disapproves of my interest.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Fallon tried to pretend indifference. “It doesn’t matter.”

It did, of course. But what could Sally say?

She didn’t know enough about her sister’s relationship with her fiancé to offer any advice.

“What is the beeping?” she asked.

Fallon moved toward a large bowl in the center of the floor. “Someone is near the entrance to our homeland. I made a warning device.”

Very clever. A damned shame she felt she had to hide her talents.

Absently joining Fallon, Sally glanced down at the bowl, her heart slamming against her ribs as she caught sight of the dark-haired vampire with pale silver eyes and a fierce expression.

“Roke,” she breathed, a stark longing to be with her mate sending her to her knees. “Can he get through?”

Fallon shook her head. “No. Not without a Chatri to open a doorway.” She pointed a slender finger toward the large blond who stood at Roke’s side in the middle of a field. They looked like they were arguing. “This is your vampire?”

Sally shook her head. “The other one.”

“Then who is his companion?”

“His friend Cyn,” she said, too distracted to notice her sister’s odd tone. “I have to go to him.”

She surged back to her feet, but before she could return to the outer room, Fallon was grabbing her arm.

“No.”

Sally hissed with impatience. Roke was near. She had to get to him.

“Look, it’s been great to meet you, but Roke has sacrificed everything for me,” she said, trying to tug free. “I’m not going to allow him to think that I just abandoned him.”

Fallon maintained her grip, her expression somber. “If you leave here to go to him, it will give Father the right to kill him.”

A cold chill lodged in the pit of her stomach. “Kill him?”

“You are a princess,” Fallon said, not seeming to remember that Sally was a mongrel. “No man who hasn’t been formally approved by her family is allowed to touch you.”

Sally’s eyes narrowed as she remembered her father’s determination to bring her here. He must have realized that once he had her in his homeland she would be caught between a rock and a hard place.

“So this was a setup,” she snapped. “If I leave, then I put Roke in danger. If I stay, he can’t reach me. Damn Sariel.”

Fallon’s fingers tightened on her arm. “I have a plan.”

Sally struggled to think past the red haze of anger that clouded her mind.

“What?”

Fallon glanced back toward the images dancing on top of the water.

“You can’t go to the vampire, but I can bring him to you.”

Sally sent her sister a suspicious frown. “And lead him to certain death?”

“No,” Fallon protested in shock. “Bloodshed is forbidden here. Not even the king is allowed to strike out in violence.”

“Oh.” Sally bit her bottom lip. “So once he’s here—”

“He would be safe.”

Sally’s lips parted to demand that Fallon do whatever necessary to protect Roke, only to falter when she caught sight of the grim determination etched onto her sister’s pale features.

“What about you?”

Fallon squared her shoulders, looking every inch a dignified princess.

“I can take care of myself.”

“Fallon—”

“Please,” she interrupted Sally’s protest. “Let me help.”

Sally hesitated before giving a slow nod. She hated the thought of allowing her sister to do something that might get her in trouble. Or worse. But, she had to get word to Roke.

The goddess only knew what he would do if he discovered he couldn’t open the doorway.

“What do you want me to do?” she at last asked.

“Join Father in the throne room,” she urged. “I will bring Roke to you.”

“You’re sure?”

Fallon smiled with . . . was that anticipation?

“Never more so.”