Beyond the Darkness (11 page)

“Caine had already revealed my miraculous return from the dead.” He readily dumped the blame on his pet cur. Shit was intended to roll downhill. “Giuliani needs to be contained before he can start sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I will decide what needs to be done. And the first order of business is reminding you that your continued existence is entirely at my mercy. And in this moment, I am not feeling particularly merciful.”

Briggs didn’t have to fake his shudder of agony. “Forgive me.”

“I forgive nothing,” the voice hissed. “I have waited for centuries to be released from this hellhole. I will destroy you before I allow you to threaten my destiny.”

It was a threat that Briggs accepted as gospel. Unlike his dear departed father, he’d never been stupid enough to assume he was anything but expendable to this powerful demon lord.

“Yes, master.”

“You will stay away from Giuliani until I give you the order to bring him to me. Do you understand?”

“I think it’s a mistake to…”

His words cut off as the chamber shook, the shower of stones from the ceiling pelting him on the head.

“You dare question me?”

Briggs swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. He’d died once. It was an experience he didn’t intend to repeat.

On the other hand, he wasn’t about to allow Salvatore to steal his glory when he was so close to success.

“Please. You must allow me to speak.”

“Must?”

“It’s Giuliani,” Briggs rasped, his head pressed to the cold stone floor as the crippling pain threatened to consume him. “He’s a danger.”

“What danger?”

“He’s begun the mating ritual.”

The frigid pressure abruptly disappeared, as if Briggs had managed to truly shock the demon lord.

A relief to be rid of the pain, but not particularly reassuring.

Briggs had bet everything on the mysterious demon lord who promised him the throne that had been stolen by Salvatore. The damned creature should already have sensed trouble.

“Impossible.”

“Impossible or not, he’s returning power to the Weres.”

The town proved to be typical for the Midwest.

Settled on the Mississippi River, it was a combination of small businesses, fast-food restaurants, and chain stores along Broadway Street, while the traditional main drag was lined with historic homes that were battling the passage of time with varying degrees of success.

After swinging through Arby’s to buy enough roast beef sandwiches and fried mozzarella sticks to feed a football team plus the cheerleading squad—even supposing cheerleaders would come within a mile of a fried mozzarella stick—Tonya drove them to the waterfront, stopping the Mercedes behind a small brick building with a green awning painted with the words
TEAS AND CAKES
.

Harley briefly caught a glimpse of small tables with frilly doilies and a front counter with a glass case of pastries. There was a mass of humans stuffed into the small space, with a line out the front door, their expressions tense as they waited to feed their unwitting addiction.

A powerful hex, indeed.

With a grimace, Harley followed Tonya into the attached warehouse that looked in dire need of some kindling and a match to put it out of its misery. There was a faint tingle as they entered the back door, and Harley’s eyes widened as she took in the vast lobby decorated in a neoclassical style, with inlaid wood floors and pale green walls with silver engravings. The ceiling was painted with Apollo on his chariot dashing through the clouds, and the handful of chairs were hand-carved.

All extremely elegant and amazingly tasteful.

Belatedly, she realized the warehouse had been wrapped in an enchantment that magically projected an image of shabby abandonment. No doubt it also held an aversion spell that would keep humans from entering.

From the lobby, she and Salvatore had been led to private apartments on the second floor of the warehouse. There were a few raised brows when she’d insisted on separate rooms, but in a thankfully short amount of time she was locked in a bathroom with a lot of black marble and gilt to shower away the hardened mud.

Returning to the attached bedroom, she found a pair of jeans and a turquoise tank top waiting for her on the black-and-gold comforter spread over the jumbo-sized bed. There was also a new set of panties and matching bra, as well as a pair of running shoes.

Yow, vampire hospitality was obviously full service.

The only question was what they charged for that service.

Once dressed, she pulled her damp hair into a ponytail and headed back toward the lobby. She hesitated at the bottom of the sweeping staircase, surprised to discover several large demons entering through a side door and heading directly toward the back of the lobby.

She instinctively shifted so she was hidden behind the elegantly carved banister, keeping a careful eye on the dangerous crowd.

Night had obviously fallen since several of the demons possessed the unearthly beauty of vampires, and at least one was an Ichari demon, a species that remained immobile during the day.

The others…

She didn’t have a clue. There were some with horns, some with extra appendages, some with wings and razor-sharp teeth. The only thing they had in common was the unmistakable aura of being predators.

Not really in the mood to rub elbows with the motley crew, Harley headed in the opposite direction, opening a door set in an alcove to discover what appeared to be a private office.

Crossing the slate gray carpet, she avoided the heavy walnut desk and wooden shelves that held the sort of high-tech surveillance equipment that would make the CIA salivate. Instead she concentrated on the French Impressionist paintings that were hung on the paneled walls and carefully preserved behind glass cases.

Good Lord. They were breathtaking, but surely they should have been in a museum?

“So the rumors are true.”

Harley slowly turned, not surprised to discover the exquisitely handsome vampire with long raven hair and distinctly Spanish features leaning against the doorjamb, studying her with a faint smile. She’d already sensed his approach.

“I’m afraid to ask,” she murmured.

“You shouldn’t be.” Pushing from the door, he slowly moved to stand directly before her. Dressed in a black silk suit and charcoal tie, he filled the room with his cold power. “You are as beautiful as your sister.”

“You know my sister?”

“I am Santiago, and it is my honor to call Darcy my queen.”

“Queen.” She gave a shake of her head. “Unbelievable.”

The vampire lifted his brows. “It troubles you that she is mated to a vampire?”

Harley’s lips twisted. She wouldn’t have been troubled to discover her sisters were mated to tree frogs.

“No. I was told that my sisters were murdered. I’m still wrapping my head around the fact they’re alive and kicking.”

There was a hint of rueful humor in the dark eyes. “Darcy is very much alive and quite happy to do whatever kicking necessary to keep Styx in line.”

“And she’s happy?”

“Of course.” His gaze deliberately lowered to appreciate the curves revealed by the tank top. “Vampires possess an extensive knowledge of how to please a woman.”

Oh, she didn’t doubt that for a moment.

Everything about the beautiful demons screamed pleasure.

A pity her taste ran to aggravating, arrogant, outrageously sexy Weres.

“Extensive, eh?”

“Extensive and…” His smile revealed a flash of pearly white fangs. “Creative.”

“And oh-so-dead if you take one step closer, Santiago,” Salvatore drawled, stepping into the room and allowing his heat to blast through the air.

Harley wisely stepped away from the vampire as she turned to appreciate the sight of Salvatore freshly showered and wearing a pair of silky black pants and a sheer white shirt that had been left open to reveal his smooth, bronzed chest.

If there was going to be a fight, she didn’t intend to be in the middle of it.

Santiago offered a mocking bow. “Giuliani.”

Strolling forward, Salvatore deliberately halted at her side, his hand possessively cupping the back of her neck. The male equivalent of “She’s mine, back off.”

Harley might have been furious if he wasn’t looking so frigging gorgeous, with his hair pulled back with a gold clasp, emphasizing the stark beauty of his face.

And that scent…

Warm with a smoky musk that was driving her insane.

Easily sensing her jolt of awareness, Salvatore rubbed his thumb along the side of her neck, his gaze remaining on the vampire.

“Have you contacted Styx?”

“I informed him that Tonya discovered you and the lovely Harley, and that you were on your way to the club,” Santiago said. “He’ll be heading here now that sun has set.”

Harley frowned. “Why is he coming here? I thought you were going to Chicago?”

“Not without back up.” Salvatore grimaced. “I assume he’s bringing the crow pack with him?”

“Crow pack?”

“His Ravens,” Santiago hissed, the dark eyes cold with disapproval. “They are the Anasso’s personal guard and worthy of proper respect.”

Salvatore shrugged. “How long will it take them to arrive?”

“Four, perhaps five hours.”

“What’s your security?”

The vampire waved a hand toward the shelves of equipment. “Beyond the enchantments placed on the building, I have everything wired and fully monitored. There are also four guards on duty at all times.”

“No werewolves?”

Santiago’s lips curled. “I don’t trust dogs.”

“The feeling is entirely mutual, leech.”

“Not to mention the fact they shed.”

“Better than being a walking corpse.”

Danger prickled in the air and Harley took a sharp step away from both males, her hands planted on her hips.

“Either the testosterone level in this room is taken down a notch or I’m going to show you both what bad things happen when estrogen is let off the leash.”

Salvatore’s lips twitched as he met Harley’s warning gaze, his blood stirring. Damn, but she was hot.

“I heard female Weres were more dangerous than the males,” Santiago murmured.

Salvatore nodded. “You should be near one during the full moon.”

The hazel eyes glowed with a rising fury. “Do you two want some privacy so you can enjoy your budding bromance?”

Santiago chuckled, heading toward the door. “I need to check on the staff before the doors open. So long as you stay in the building, you should be safe. There is food in the kitchen and drinks at the bar. The entertainment starts in an hour.”

The vampire disappeared, closing the door behind him.

“Entertainment?” Harley asked, her eyes abruptly widening as Salvatore roughly backed her against the wall and pressed his body against her. “What the hell?”

Grasping her hands, Salvatore held them over her head, his erection cradled against her stomach.

“You’re so damned sexy.”

“And that gives you the right to jump me like a…”

“A dog in heat?” he finished for her, burying his face in the curve of her neck.

“Yes.”

“I
am
a dog in heat.”

She shivered, the scent of her arousal spicing the air. “You’re also a king. Shouldn’t you at least make an effort to be civilized?”

He chuckled, his lips exploring the line of her shoulder. She smelled of soap and woman and smoldering desire.

“You still have your clothes on, don’t you?”

She stirred beneath him, her heat wrapping around him. “Salvatore, I’m not going to have sex with you in a room where anyone might walk in.”

“Then come to my room.”

“No way.”

His lips followed the plunging line of her tank top, lingering on the gentle swell of her breast.

“Your room then.”

She tried to swallow her groan of pleasure. “No…way.”

“Oh, there are ways,” he promised in low, rough tones. “An endless number of ways. We’ve already proven that with stunning results. All we need is a place.”

She shook her head in denial, but her nipples hardened with unspoken invitation.

“Get over yourself, Giuliani.”

Pulling back, he studied her with a brooding gaze. He could hear the rapid beat of her heart, the rasp of her breath.

“Harley, your senses are as sensitive as mine. This mutual desire is one thing we can never hide from one another.”

“Wanting and doing are two completely different things.”

He pressed his erection against the curve of her stomach. “I’m painfully aware of the distinction,
cara.
”

For a blissful moment, Harley softened against him, her eyes fluttering shut as the persistent need pulsed between them. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to get her naked before she was roughly shoving him away, crossing the room to stand near the door.

“Tell me what the zombie Were said to you,” she demanded.

Salvatore groaned, turning to lean against the wall as his body screamed with frustration.

“Zombie?”

“Zombie. Freak.” She shrugged. “Taxidermist wet dream.”

With a grudging effort, Salvatore wrenched his thoughts away from seducing his mate and dredged up his encounter with Briggs.

Better than a cold shower.

“Nothing that made any sense,” he rasped.

“Flaming psychopaths rarely make sense.”

“True enough.”

She tilted her head to the side, all too easily sensing the gnawing unease that plagued him.

“There’s something bothering you. What is it?”

Salvatore stiffened, battling the instinct to retreat from her probing. Harley wasn’t a casual lay to be ignored unless she was in his bed. She was the woman destined to rule at his side.

“He claims that he possesses the power to restore children to the Were.”

There was a startled silence as Harley absorbed the significance of his words.

“Easy to claim,” she at last said. “Does he have any proof?”

“It is all to be revealed when the timing is right.”

“Sounds like a bunch of mumbo jumbo crap to me. Remarkably like the bull that Caine is always spouting.”

Salvatore toyed absently with his heavy signet ring, an unpleasant knot in the pit of his stomach.

“They do drink from the same glass of Kool-Aid.”

“So why are you letting him get under your skin?”

“Until I know the source of his power, I can’t fathom what he’s capable of. There’s no doubt he’s convinced himself that he’s the true King of Weres.”

“If he was the true king, wouldn’t he be sitting on the throne?”

“So I always believed.”

With a scowl, she crossed the carpet to stand directly before him, as if afraid he might be oblivious to her annoyance unless they were nose to nose.

“Are you listening to yourself? You’re letting that rotting POS screw with your head.”

Salvatore arched a brow, startled by her fierce reaction. Was it because she was terrified of Briggs? Or was it more personal?

Cristo,
he wanted it to be personal.

Intimately, deeply personal.

Naked wouldn’t hurt, either.

Unable to resist temptation, he reached to grab her hand. The mating had stolen a measure of his strength, but touching her offered something just as important.

Peace.

An all too rare sensation in his life.

“He has raised questions that need to be answered.”

“What questions?”

Salvatore led Harley to the wide leather sofa set across the room from the desk. Settling on the cushions, he tugged her down beside him.

A part of him was restless, in need of being on the hunt for Briggs and the bastard who was pumping him full of black magic. It was a part easily overwhelmed by his savage need to protect this woman.

Until he knew that Harley was safely in the hands of Styx and his Ravens, he wasn’t about to leave her side.

“Whether or not the previous king was involved with the same demon who is controlling Briggs.”

She shifted uneasily, but didn’t pull away. Progress.

“Is that what the Were told you?”

“Si.”

“And you believe him?”

Salvatore grimaced. “I don’t want to.”

“But?”

He lifted his free hand to rub the muscles of his aching neck. “But I can’t ignore the memory of Mackenzie’s peculiar behavior the last century of his life.”

She flashed a dry smile. “You’re going to have to be more specific. I assumed being peculiar was a prerequisite of kinghood.”

“Very amusing.”

Her smile faded. “Did you suspect anything at the time?”

Did he?

Salvatore didn’t have a ready answer.

In many ways, the past had been lost in shadows. After becoming king he had too many troubles to look back. The future consumed his every thought.

Now it was difficult to dredge up the memories without shading them with his growing suspicions.

“He was secretive. Short-tempered. Dangerously unstable,” he admitted, recalling his resentment as Mackenzie increasingly ignored his duties to the Weres and remained alone in his lair. “I thought he was battling the Telos.”

“What’s that?”

He considered his words. “Like all immortals, Weres are vulnerable to the punishment of time,” he at last said. “Endless days that become decades and centuries and millennia. Despair can be as destructive as any illness.”

The hazel eyes darkened, perhaps for the first time comprehending that immortality had a cost.

“What happens?”

“It’s different for each individual.” He stroked his thumb over her knuckles, comforted by the feel of her satin skin. It was said that Weres who found a true mate never endured the Telos. “Most complain of a numbing apathy or a lurking darkness they can’t escape. Eventually they call on the Vekpos, a mystical fire that will consume a pureblood from the inside out.”

“Yikes.” Harley grimaced. “We can’t do it by accident, can we?”

“No. A Were must be in the throes of the Telos for the power to emerge, and it’s a very rare occurrence. Most Weres are too violent not to die in battle long before the threat of ennui can consume them.”

She choked back a laugh. “Fantastic. I’m completely reassured.”

“You asked.”

“The previous king had this…” She stumbled over the unfamiliar word. “Telos?”

He shook his head, turning to absently study the pastel paintings hung on the wall.

“That was my assumption. And when his ashes were discovered in his lair, it simply confirmed my theory.”

“Sounds fairly cut-and-dry,” she pointed out. “Just because Briggs made some wild accusations doesn’t make them true.”

Intellectually, Salvatore agreed.

Briggs had been an accomplished liar long before he’d ever traded his soul for power. Hell, he’d nearly convinced the Roman werewolf pack to return to the ancient tradition of sacrificing humans to appease the Were gods before Salvatore had stepped in and halted the nonsense.

His instinct, however, refused to dismiss the wild claim.

He couldn’t afford to overlook any possibility.

God knew his blind assumptions had already led to near disaster.

“No, but even at the time I knew that the Telos didn’t completely explain Mackenzie’s furtive habits,” his voice thickened with self-disgust. Maybe if he hadn’t ignored the vague doubts about Mackenzie all those centuries ago, he could have stopped Briggs before he managed to acquire his black powers. Then he gave a shake of his head. There was no going back, only forward. “Those who are committed to death devote their last years performing small rituals to easing the grief of those they’ll leave behind.”

She squeezed his hand, as if sensing his inner torment. “What sort of rituals?”

“They give away their belongings, they travel to visit the burial grounds of their ancestors, they surround themselves with the pack.”

“Grim, but understandable, I suppose.” She wrinkled her nose. “What did Mackenzie do?”

“He hid in his lair, refusing my pleas to return to his throne, even as the Were packs fractured and turned on each other.”

She considered his explanation a long moment, then astonishingly, cut straight to the heart of the matter.

“Did the Weres begin losing their powers beneath the previous king?”

Salvatore surged to his feet, hating the knowledge that he was stumbling through the dark, constantly one step behind.

Dio.
The fate of the Weres depended on him.

If he failed, they all failed.

“It’s difficult to pinpoint an exact moment or even decade, but it was whispered that the decline started shortly after Mackenzie’s reign began.” His wolf prowled just below his skin, needing a tangible enemy to rip into shreds. “Maybe he sensed the encroaching weakness and turned to desperate measures.”

Harley crossed to his side, her brow furrowed. “Or maybe he used the black magic to become king, and that started the troubles.”

Salvatore gritted his teeth, wanting to deny that any king would be willing to put his own ambitions ahead of the good of his people, but the lies wouldn’t pass his lips.

Magic couldn’t force the throne to accept a Were as king, but a corrupt Were could certainly use it to clear the field of contenders.

“It’s possible that Mackenzie used black magic to dispose of the true heirs ahead of him.”

“Wait.” Her eyes widened, as she was struck by a sudden thought. “If he sold his soul to the devil, why wasn’t he offered the Lazarus treatment that Briggs got?”

Salvatore shrugged. “Maybe Briggs made a pact with the same devil to make certain Mackenzie
couldn’t
rise again.”

“Honor among thieves, and all that?”

“Briggs is desperate for the throne.”

Harley shuddered, wrapping her arms around her waist. Salvatore didn’t blame her. Briggs was shudder-worthy.

“So how does Caine fit into all this?”

Salvatore felt another pang of self-disgust. He’d been following Brigg’s false trails for years. Like a particularly stupid hound hunting the chickens and allowing the fox to escape his notice.

“A distraction,” he gritted.

She snorted. “He wasn’t much of a distraction considering he spent most of his time cowering in his various lairs.”

“Actually, you and your sisters were the true distractions,” he corrected. “Briggs knew that I would follow your trail anywhere in the world, and that I wouldn’t rest until I’d found you.” He scanned her beautiful face, his heart whispering it was worth every sacrifice to have at last discovered his mate, while his sense of duty rebelled at having endangered his people. “By dividing the four of you into different locations and constantly keeping on the move, he did a bang-up job of making sure I wasted my time chasing my own tail.”

“Distract you from what?” she demanded.

His lips twisted as Harley once again pounced on the most significant point.

He would be a fool to ever try to deceive this woman.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“What do you suspect?”

“I think I was lured from Italy to America for a very specific purpose.” He lifted a hand as her lips parted with the inevitable question. “And before you ask, I don’t have a clue what the purpose might be.”

“Inconvenient.”

His humorless laugh echoed through the room at her stunning understatement.

“A little more than inconvenient.” He shook his head, resuming his impatient pacing. Tonight he felt every one of his numerous years. “
Cristo,
for all I know, I’m completely wrong about everything. In the past I’ve blamed the troubles of the Weres on the gods, on the changing societies, and even on the vampires. Perhaps I’m seeking another evil force to accuse so I don’t have to admit that my people are destined for extinction.”

Silence filled the room, the distant din of Santiago’s unruly guests thankfully muffled by the heavy door.

At last Salvatore halted his pacing. He could sense Harley standing just behind him. She hadn’t tried to slip away while he was distracted. And so far she hadn’t stuck anything in the middle of his back.

Which meant she was thinking.

A dangerous activity.

Turning, he met her guarded gaze.