Devoured by Darkness
Page 49
His stammering words were brought to an end as the ghost reared back her arm and before anyone could guess her intent she had cold-cocked the gargoyle, sending him flying through the air to hit against the far wall. Then, taking a moment to wave a tiny hand in Jaelyn’s direction, the ghost abruptly disappeared.
Tane’s brows lifted as Levet peeled himself off the wall and marched toward the opening with a grim expression.
Talk about bizarre encounters.
“Levet, where are you going?”
“I am French,” the demon muttered, his steps never slowing. “Your point?”
“No woman kisses me like that and then disappears.”
Tane didn’t halt the gargoyle’s grim exit. He was honest enough to admit that he owed the annoying demon a debt of honor.
But that didn’t mean he had to like it.
Besides, he didn’t have time to waste trailing after the fool. Every instinct he possessed screamed he had to get to Laylah.
Now.
Turning his head, he assessed his companion. “Are you hurt?”
Jaelyn shrugged, her gaze lowered to effectively hide her emotions.
“My pride has been brutalized and my manicure will never be the same, but otherwise I’m fine.”
Tane studied the female’s stark profile, sensing there was more than wounded pride churning beneath her don’t-press-the-issue attitude. Thankfully, it wasn’t his concern.
“How did you get here?” he instead asked.
She turned to meet his searching gaze. “I caught the trail of Ariyal as he followed the female vampire and mage to Chicago.”
Tane blinked in surprise. He’d have bet good money the bastard planned to double-cross the female vampire.
“He returned to Marika?”
“No, he was hiding in the woods when he overheard them discussing your Jinn’s journey to this frozen little slice of heaven.”
“Ah.” That made much more sense.
She grimaced. “I tried to stop him.”
“So I see.” Tane’s narrowed gaze roamed over the healing scrapes and bruises, his hands clenching in anticipation of carving punishment out of Ariyal’s fey hide. “Don’t worry, payback’s a bitch.”
“No,” Jaelyn fiercely refused his unspoken offer of a Sylvermyst smack down. “He …”
“What?”
She hunched her shoulder. “He could have killed me. Instead he brought me through the portal and left me here guarded by that spirit.”
“Guarded or held prisoner?”
“Both I suppose,” she muttered.
Was Jaelyn trying to excuse the son of a bitch? How long did it take for that whole Stockholm syndrome to kick in?
“If he kept you alive it was because he thought he could use you as a bargaining chip.” “Vampires don’t bargain.”
“Do you have a better explanation? “ he bluntly challenged.
She gave a very feminine sniff. “Off the top of my head I would guess he simply enjoys torturing me.” She instinctively reached for the gun she kept holstered on her hip, only to come up empty. Ariyal had obviously relieved her of her weapons. “Bastard.”
Tane shook his head. “He’s up to something.”
“Whatever it is, he’s desperate to get his hands on that baby.”
Tane’s fangs extended to their full limit and with a fluid speed he was out of the cave and running through the tunnels.
“Laylah.”
Chapter 22
I intend to kill him …
Laylah took a stumbled step backward, her heart frozen in her chest as she stared in disbelief at the Sylvermyst.
She expected to find hatred etched on that beautiful face. Or fury. Or fanaticism.
Instead there was nothing more than a calm determination that was more terrifying than any amount of ranting and raving.
“Are you demented?” she hissed, hugging Maluhia to her chest. “You can’t kill a helpless baby.”
His lips twisted. “I thought we had already established my evil credentials.”
“Why?”
He pointed the sword at the child in her arms. “It’s the spawn of the Dark Lord.”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe that. It’s innocent.”
“What you believe doesn’t matter. So long as the child exists there will be those determined to use him to return the Master.” His expression hardened. “I can’t allow that.”
A cold prickle brushed the back of her neck, but Laylah didn’t dare glance around. One moment of distraction and the fey could have her head chopped off.
Not only would it make for a very bad day, but the child would be left at the mercy of this sword-wielding maniac.
“Why can’t you allow it?” She covertly stepped to the side, her back feeling excessively exposed to whatever was rushing at her from the tunnel behind her. She could hope that it was Tane, but her luck wasn’t that good. “Sylvermyst would surely rule at the Dark Lord’s side if he is resurrected?”
“Not those who chose slavery rather than follow him into exile.”
She had to admit he had a point.
The Dark Lord wasn’t a forgive and forget kind of deity. Actually he was more of a use-any-excuse-to-maim-and-torture sort of guy.
“You think you would be punished?” she asked.
“Punished?” The Sylvermyst’s laugh was edged with a painful bitterness. “The most we could hope for is utter destruction. The worst …” He shuddered in horror. “An eternity of endless torture.”
“Let’s find out, shall we, traitor?” a cold female voice drawled as Marika stepped into the room, accompanied by her frigid power and surprise, surprise … Sergei. Laylah’s personal, magical, pain in the ass.
“Gods, why won’t you stay dead,” Laylah muttered, instinctively pressing against the far wall of the narrow passage as Marika strolled past her.
The female looked shockingly healthy considering she’d just had half a mountain land on her head.
Her dark hair was a perfect river of black flowing down her back, her pale skin unmarred by injury. But even the powerful vampire couldn’t hide her ripped clothing or the dirt and blood that stained the fine silk.
She’d been gravely injured. Surely she couldn’t be at full strength?
The vampire halted near the wary Sylvermyst, her mocking gaze flicking over Laylah’s rigid body.
“You stupid child, my destiny has been written in the stars. I am not going to be thwarted by a common mongrel.” Her attention returned to Ariyal, no doubt aware that the fey posed the greatest danger at the moment. “Or for that matter, by a treacherous fey who could have ruled the world at my side.”
Ariyal held his sword at an angle, his feet spread wide as he prepared for an attack.
“I didn’t escape becoming a whore for one crazy bitch just so I could take a position with another.” His gaze briefly shot toward Sergei who was blocking the tunnel on one end while Marika deliberately halted to block the other end. “Besides, it’s going to be a little crowded at your side with me and the Dark Lord and the mage and who knows what other gullible male you’ve managed to screw into blind faith.”
Marika hissed, her elongated fangs proving just how lethal a woman scorned could truly be.
“You have sealed your fate, Ariyal.”
The fey twirled his sword, a smile of anticipation curving his lips.
“Let’s dance, vampire.”
“Sergei, cast the spell while I enjoy my dinner,” Marika commanded, advancing toward the fey with her hands curled into claws.
Laylah shuddered. She’d once seen a vampire rip through a brick building with nothing but his claws. It wasn’t a fate she would wish on anyone.
As if sensing her unexpected flare of sympathy, the fey sent her a fierce glare.
“Laylah, get the hell out of here,” he barked, swinging his massive sword as Marika attacked.
Laylah grit her teeth, turning toward the mage who was planted squarely in the middle of the tunnel.
“Do you really think I would still be here if that was an option?” she muttered.
Sergei smiled, stepping toward Laylah with his hands raised in a gesture of peace.
“You want to leave?” he asked. “Put the child down and walk away.”
Behind her, there was a ghastly sound of a blade slicing through flesh, then a grunt of pain followed by the snapping of broken bones. Laylah didn’t turn her head to watch the epic battle. What did it matter who won? They both intended very bad things for her and her baby.
Her best hope was that the two killed each other.
Besides, the approaching mage was her most pressing problem at the moment.
Everyone else would have to get in line.
“Right.” She tucked the baby beneath her cloak, as if that would keep him safe. “And I, of course, have every reason to trust you after you kidnapped me, held me captive, and tortured me on several occasions.”
Sergei shrugged. “It was business.”
“Business is opening a Starbucks, not returning an evil god to destroy the world.”
“Not everyone will be destroyed.” His lips twisted with a self-derisive smile. “There are some who will rule.”
“You can’t be that stupid.”
“Obviously I can.” His gaze darted toward the fight behind her before returning to her, his face pale with … what? Resignation? Regret? “I’ve made my bed.”
She frowned. “Don’t do it, Sergei.” “I just told you, there’s no longer any choice.” “I’ll bring this entire mountain down on our heads,” she warned. “I will survive, but do you think you will be so lucky?”
He didn’t bother to flinch. Maybe he sensed she was barely strong enough to remain upright. Or maybe he was just beyond fear. In either case, it was obvious he wasn’t going to be stopped.
“Your mate already tried the death threat route. It didn’t work for him either.”
Her heart missed a beat. “Tane, is he …”
Before she could finish her sentence, Sergei muttered a series of harsh words and stabbed a hand in her direction. Laylah tried to turn to protect the child from the spell, too late realizing it was intended for her.
A scream was wrenched from her throat as she was slammed against the wall. Not from the pain. She was becoming accustomed to being hit, smashed, and tossed around like she was a rag doll. And what did that say about her life?
Tane’s brows lifted as Levet peeled himself off the wall and marched toward the opening with a grim expression.
Talk about bizarre encounters.
“Levet, where are you going?”
“I am French,” the demon muttered, his steps never slowing. “Your point?”
“No woman kisses me like that and then disappears.”
Tane didn’t halt the gargoyle’s grim exit. He was honest enough to admit that he owed the annoying demon a debt of honor.
But that didn’t mean he had to like it.
Besides, he didn’t have time to waste trailing after the fool. Every instinct he possessed screamed he had to get to Laylah.
Now.
Turning his head, he assessed his companion. “Are you hurt?”
Jaelyn shrugged, her gaze lowered to effectively hide her emotions.
“My pride has been brutalized and my manicure will never be the same, but otherwise I’m fine.”
Tane studied the female’s stark profile, sensing there was more than wounded pride churning beneath her don’t-press-the-issue attitude. Thankfully, it wasn’t his concern.
“How did you get here?” he instead asked.
She turned to meet his searching gaze. “I caught the trail of Ariyal as he followed the female vampire and mage to Chicago.”
Tane blinked in surprise. He’d have bet good money the bastard planned to double-cross the female vampire.
“He returned to Marika?”
“No, he was hiding in the woods when he overheard them discussing your Jinn’s journey to this frozen little slice of heaven.”
“Ah.” That made much more sense.
She grimaced. “I tried to stop him.”
“So I see.” Tane’s narrowed gaze roamed over the healing scrapes and bruises, his hands clenching in anticipation of carving punishment out of Ariyal’s fey hide. “Don’t worry, payback’s a bitch.”
“No,” Jaelyn fiercely refused his unspoken offer of a Sylvermyst smack down. “He …”
“What?”
She hunched her shoulder. “He could have killed me. Instead he brought me through the portal and left me here guarded by that spirit.”
“Guarded or held prisoner?”
“Both I suppose,” she muttered.
Was Jaelyn trying to excuse the son of a bitch? How long did it take for that whole Stockholm syndrome to kick in?
“If he kept you alive it was because he thought he could use you as a bargaining chip.” “Vampires don’t bargain.”
“Do you have a better explanation? “ he bluntly challenged.
She gave a very feminine sniff. “Off the top of my head I would guess he simply enjoys torturing me.” She instinctively reached for the gun she kept holstered on her hip, only to come up empty. Ariyal had obviously relieved her of her weapons. “Bastard.”
Tane shook his head. “He’s up to something.”
“Whatever it is, he’s desperate to get his hands on that baby.”
Tane’s fangs extended to their full limit and with a fluid speed he was out of the cave and running through the tunnels.
“Laylah.”
Chapter 22
I intend to kill him …
Laylah took a stumbled step backward, her heart frozen in her chest as she stared in disbelief at the Sylvermyst.
She expected to find hatred etched on that beautiful face. Or fury. Or fanaticism.
Instead there was nothing more than a calm determination that was more terrifying than any amount of ranting and raving.
“Are you demented?” she hissed, hugging Maluhia to her chest. “You can’t kill a helpless baby.”
His lips twisted. “I thought we had already established my evil credentials.”
“Why?”
He pointed the sword at the child in her arms. “It’s the spawn of the Dark Lord.”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe that. It’s innocent.”
“What you believe doesn’t matter. So long as the child exists there will be those determined to use him to return the Master.” His expression hardened. “I can’t allow that.”
A cold prickle brushed the back of her neck, but Laylah didn’t dare glance around. One moment of distraction and the fey could have her head chopped off.
Not only would it make for a very bad day, but the child would be left at the mercy of this sword-wielding maniac.
“Why can’t you allow it?” She covertly stepped to the side, her back feeling excessively exposed to whatever was rushing at her from the tunnel behind her. She could hope that it was Tane, but her luck wasn’t that good. “Sylvermyst would surely rule at the Dark Lord’s side if he is resurrected?”
“Not those who chose slavery rather than follow him into exile.”
She had to admit he had a point.
The Dark Lord wasn’t a forgive and forget kind of deity. Actually he was more of a use-any-excuse-to-maim-and-torture sort of guy.
“You think you would be punished?” she asked.
“Punished?” The Sylvermyst’s laugh was edged with a painful bitterness. “The most we could hope for is utter destruction. The worst …” He shuddered in horror. “An eternity of endless torture.”
“Let’s find out, shall we, traitor?” a cold female voice drawled as Marika stepped into the room, accompanied by her frigid power and surprise, surprise … Sergei. Laylah’s personal, magical, pain in the ass.
“Gods, why won’t you stay dead,” Laylah muttered, instinctively pressing against the far wall of the narrow passage as Marika strolled past her.
The female looked shockingly healthy considering she’d just had half a mountain land on her head.
Her dark hair was a perfect river of black flowing down her back, her pale skin unmarred by injury. But even the powerful vampire couldn’t hide her ripped clothing or the dirt and blood that stained the fine silk.
She’d been gravely injured. Surely she couldn’t be at full strength?
The vampire halted near the wary Sylvermyst, her mocking gaze flicking over Laylah’s rigid body.
“You stupid child, my destiny has been written in the stars. I am not going to be thwarted by a common mongrel.” Her attention returned to Ariyal, no doubt aware that the fey posed the greatest danger at the moment. “Or for that matter, by a treacherous fey who could have ruled the world at my side.”
Ariyal held his sword at an angle, his feet spread wide as he prepared for an attack.
“I didn’t escape becoming a whore for one crazy bitch just so I could take a position with another.” His gaze briefly shot toward Sergei who was blocking the tunnel on one end while Marika deliberately halted to block the other end. “Besides, it’s going to be a little crowded at your side with me and the Dark Lord and the mage and who knows what other gullible male you’ve managed to screw into blind faith.”
Marika hissed, her elongated fangs proving just how lethal a woman scorned could truly be.
“You have sealed your fate, Ariyal.”
The fey twirled his sword, a smile of anticipation curving his lips.
“Let’s dance, vampire.”
“Sergei, cast the spell while I enjoy my dinner,” Marika commanded, advancing toward the fey with her hands curled into claws.
Laylah shuddered. She’d once seen a vampire rip through a brick building with nothing but his claws. It wasn’t a fate she would wish on anyone.
As if sensing her unexpected flare of sympathy, the fey sent her a fierce glare.
“Laylah, get the hell out of here,” he barked, swinging his massive sword as Marika attacked.
Laylah grit her teeth, turning toward the mage who was planted squarely in the middle of the tunnel.
“Do you really think I would still be here if that was an option?” she muttered.
Sergei smiled, stepping toward Laylah with his hands raised in a gesture of peace.
“You want to leave?” he asked. “Put the child down and walk away.”
Behind her, there was a ghastly sound of a blade slicing through flesh, then a grunt of pain followed by the snapping of broken bones. Laylah didn’t turn her head to watch the epic battle. What did it matter who won? They both intended very bad things for her and her baby.
Her best hope was that the two killed each other.
Besides, the approaching mage was her most pressing problem at the moment.
Everyone else would have to get in line.
“Right.” She tucked the baby beneath her cloak, as if that would keep him safe. “And I, of course, have every reason to trust you after you kidnapped me, held me captive, and tortured me on several occasions.”
Sergei shrugged. “It was business.”
“Business is opening a Starbucks, not returning an evil god to destroy the world.”
“Not everyone will be destroyed.” His lips twisted with a self-derisive smile. “There are some who will rule.”
“You can’t be that stupid.”
“Obviously I can.” His gaze darted toward the fight behind her before returning to her, his face pale with … what? Resignation? Regret? “I’ve made my bed.”
She frowned. “Don’t do it, Sergei.” “I just told you, there’s no longer any choice.” “I’ll bring this entire mountain down on our heads,” she warned. “I will survive, but do you think you will be so lucky?”
He didn’t bother to flinch. Maybe he sensed she was barely strong enough to remain upright. Or maybe he was just beyond fear. In either case, it was obvious he wasn’t going to be stopped.
“Your mate already tried the death threat route. It didn’t work for him either.”
Her heart missed a beat. “Tane, is he …”
Before she could finish her sentence, Sergei muttered a series of harsh words and stabbed a hand in her direction. Laylah tried to turn to protect the child from the spell, too late realizing it was intended for her.
A scream was wrenched from her throat as she was slammed against the wall. Not from the pain. She was becoming accustomed to being hit, smashed, and tossed around like she was a rag doll. And what did that say about her life?
