Fear the Darkness

Page 52

“No more than ours,” Salvatore pointed out dryly.
“True.” Lifting his head, Styx glanced at the vampire who stood in motionless silence. The younger man hadn’t spoken a word since the meeting started, but Styx had been well aware of his growing disapproval. “Roke?”
The odd, silver eyes shimmered in the light of the overhead chandelier. “Yes?”
“Do you have something to add?”
The lean face remained unreadable. “Not really.”
“There’s something on your mind,” he insisted, knowing that the younger vampire would refuse to express his doubts unless directly confronted.
There was the slightest hesitation before Roke pointed toward the map. “It’s all defensive.”
Styx frowned. “What is?”
“Your strategy,” he explained. “It’s all about defense, not offense.”
Styx made a sound of disgust. Did the younger vampire think that Styx wanted to play the game of whack-a-mole with the Dark Lord? That he didn’t realize how futile it was to be constantly reacting to trouble that popped out of thin air instead of staging an attack on his ground and on his terms?
“Until someone finds me a way to get into the evil bitch’s prison, I don’t have a hell of a lot of choices.”
“No choices,” Roke slowly agreed, his gaze never wavering. “Unless you draw her out.”
Salvatore planted his hands on the desk and leaned forward, his expression one of curiosity. “Explain.”
Roke held his ground despite the Were’s choking power thickening the air. Styx hid a small smile. The Nevada clan chief was as cold-blooded and fearless as the rattlesnakes that populated his territory.
“As long as the Dark Lord is able to hide in the mists while she empties hell into our world, she’ll be impossible to destroy,” Roke clarified. “Our only hope is to lure her to this dimension before we’re completely overwhelmed.”
“And how are we supposed to lure her to this world?” the King of Weres demanded.
“I don’t know.”
Salvatore made a sound of disgust. “A helluva lot of help that is.”
“I’m just a humble soldier.” Roke’s eyes flashed with silver fire. “You’re the king. Both of you.”
“You want the crown?” Styx mocked. “You can have it.”
Roke squared his shoulders, not amused. “All I want is to return to my people.”
“Fine.” Styx held the younger vampire’s annoyed gaze. “Figure out how to entice the Dark Lord out of the mists and you’ll be free to go.”
Roke scowled. “You keep changing the rules.”
“I’m the king. It’s my prerogative.”
Salvatore abruptly straightened, glancing toward the open door. “Gargoyle.”
“Shit.” Styx rubbed the back of his neck, already prepared for the tiny creature to piss him off. “Like this night hasn’t been bad enough?”
On cue, the miniature gargoyle waddled into the room, his wings twitching and tail as stiff as a board. A sure sign he wasn’t rushing in with good news. But then, who did have good news these days?
“Salvatore, you must come,” Levet commanded.
Ah, he wanted the dog. Styx gave a sharp laugh at the sour expression on Salvatore’s face. “Things are looking up,” he murmured softly.
The King of Weres gave a warning growl before turning to glare at the gargoyle, who was nearly dancing with impatience.
“Actually, whether I come or not is very much up to debate,” Salvatore corrected, his wolf prowling close to the surface. “What do you want?”
“It’s Cassandra.”
All three men stiffened at the mention of the prophet. Shit. They’d just managed to get her back. They couldn’t lose her now. Not when she might hold the key to the future.
“What about her?” Salvatore growled.
“She’s with Caine.”
“Damn,” Salvatore breathed, exchanging a horrified glance with Styx.
The Were had already revealed that Caine was trapped in his feral insanity with no hope of being salvaged. If Cassie had gone into his cell, then . . . Styx shuddered at the mere thought.
“Why didn’t you stop her?” Salvatore rasped, his infuriated gaze snapping back to Levet.
The tiny demon lifted his hands in a helpless motion. “I tried. She refused to listen to me.”
Salvatore clenched his teeth. “Is she dead?”
“I don’t know.”
Styx felt a small flare of relief. At least there was still a chance she might be alive.
“I have to go,” Salvatore said.
“I’m coming with you,” Styx growled, sparing an impatient glance for the vampire still standing beside the desk. “Roke.”
“Yes?”
“Cezar is waiting for me in the library. Get with him and find a way to draw the Dark Lord into this world.” He gestured toward the gargoyle. “Levet will assist you.”
Roke widened his eyes at the unreasonable command. “But—”
Styx lifted a hand to halt the outraged protest. “Just do it.” He turned his narrowed gaze toward the gargoyle. “Both of you.”
Roke hissed in frustration. “Damn you.”
Assured the vampire would do everything in his power to find a method of luring the Dark Lord from her lair, Styx fell into step with Salvatore as he headed out of the study and down the hall.
One disaster at a time.
“Damn. I thought I was a bastard,” the Were muttered.
“You are,” Styx assured him.
Chapter 21
Styx grimaced at the sound of scurrying guards as they wisely fled the tunnels.
He didn’t blame them for their hasty retreat.
He and Salvatore were powerful alphas. Perhaps the most powerful in the world. Just being in the same room with them was enough to make most demons cringe in fear. But when they were both in hunter mode, the very air trembled in fear.
Struggling to leash his power, which was shattering the overhead lights, Styx was caught off guard when Salvatore came to a sudden halt.
“Shit,” the wolf muttered, his eyes glowing gold.
“What is it?”
“My weapons.” He glanced down at his sweatpants in disgust. “I left them in my rooms.”
“Here.” Styx pulled a gun from the holster at the small of his back, his expression somber. “If you want, I can take care of this.”
“No, Caine belongs to me.” He reached to take the gun, loaded with silver bullets. “It’s my duty.”
Styx understood. Being a leader not only meant making the hard decisions, but also carrying them through. “Evil times,” he murmured.
Salvatore nodded. “Sí.”
The Were jerked back into motion, leading Styx down a corridor to the isolated cell. The true dungeons were a level below. These rooms were for vampires awaiting sentencing from the Anasso, or for the nonmagical demons who could be held by conventional means.
They had taken less than two steps when they caught the sound of a muffled female voice.
“Caine, can you hear me?”
“Cassandra?” Styx demanded.
“Yes.”
Pure relief flowed through Styx. “Alive.”
“At least for now,” Salvatore said, racing toward the end of the corridor and throwing open the heavy steel door.
Styx entered the cell directly behind the King of Weres, his fangs lengthening as he caught sight of the mutated beast that rose up in fury at their entrance.
Holy . . . shit.
Even after Salvatore’s warning, he was shaken. He’d seen any number of creatures, some so grotesque they could turn the stomach, but this was . . . wrong.
Perverted.
Distracted, Styx nearly overlooked the tiny female until she darted in front of the beast, her arms spread wide.
“No, stay back,” she cried, her delicate features so like Darcy that it made Styx’s heart clench in fear.
She had to be kept safe. His beautiful mate would be devastated if she were to lose her sister.
Not to mention the danger to the world at the loss of their prophet.
“Salvatore,” he muttered in low tones. “Do something or I will.”
The Were ignored his threat, focusing his power on the stubborn female who stood between them and the feral beast who could kill her with one blow.
“Cassandra, come to me.”
The force of his words crashed through the small cell, sizzling through the air with enough power to make Styx hiss in annoyance and Caine whine in pain.
Cassandra, however, stood without flinching, her eyes flashing emerald fire and the fine strands of her blond hair floating in the sudden breeze. “No. I won’t let you hurt him.”
“He’ll kill you,” Salvatore muttered, taking a step forward. “Now come to me.”
She scowled as the beast behind her growled in warning, his eyes glowing with madness and his large body poised to attack, despite the heavy silver manacles wrapped around his ankles.