“An odd way to play,” Rafael rasped, moving forward to wrap his fingers around her neck. “Unless you enjoy pain?”
Oh ... shit.
This wasn’t going nearly as well as she’d hoped.
Actually, she was pretty sure that it couldn’t be going any worse.
“Even if you defeat me the vampires are gathered to halt you,” she ground out. “They will destroy the child rather than allow the return of the Dark Lord.”
“You mean that child?” With a smile the wizard glanced to the side, clearly capable of parting the mists with a mere thought. Not that she had time to admire his talent. Instead her last hope died as she caught sight of the baby nestled in the fog, its eyes wide open and watching her with an unnerving awareness. “If they stand in the Dark Lord’s path they will be destroyed,” he assured her, his nails digging in to her throat. “Just as you will be.”
A small voice in the back of her mind urged her to keep her mouth shut. It didn’t take a genius to know that her death would be a lot less painful if she didn’t keep provoking the wizard.
It was a voice that was easy to squash, along with any common sense.
“You truly believe your master will be strong enough to battle a half-dozen vampires and a pack of Weres?” she scorned his cocky confidence.
“He will once I have offered him the blood he needs.” The crimson eyes flared with a disturbing hunger. “Your blood.” His smile widened. “And then the Sylvermyst.”
Fury boiled through her, searing away the fear that was clouding her mind.
At the same time she became sharply aware of her connection to Ariyal.
He had been in the back of her mind, a bundle of fury and regret. But, as if the mention of him suddenly brought him into focus, she was conscious of the sensation of pain, as if he’d just taken a vicious blow to the shoulder. And then, an overwhelming grief that brought tears to her eyes.
Dear gods ... Ariyal.
The intensity of her sorrow was so deep that for a hideous second she actually thought she was mourning the loss of her mate. Then as the sense of him remained firmly settled in her heart, she at last realized that it was Ariyal who was consumed by his feelings of brutal sadness.
Relief blazed through her, nearly drowning out the more subtle changes that swelled through the fog.
In fact she almost missed the sensation of emptiness as Tearloch’s soul slipped away, and the iron tang of blood that scented the air.
Human blood.
Momentarily confused, her gaze searched the mists for some sign of the intruder. It didn’t make sense. How could a human manage to cross the magical boundary between dimensions?
At last, she accepted there were no unpleasant surprises creeping through the fog and returned her attention to the wizard. Only then did she catch sight of the red stains that marred the sleeve of his robe.
Red?
As in blood?
Mortal blood?
She dismissed the pain from her injuries as she rapidly sorted through the various explanations for the odd transformation from gray goo that had been leaking from the wizard’s wounds to plain, old-fashioned blood.
At last she accepted that it had to be connected to Tearloch’s passing.
Somehow his death had made the wizard mortal.
At least in this moment.
A slow smile of anticipation curled her lips. “You will never get your filthy hands on my mate,” she warned in frigid tones. “Never.”
His eyes, which were now a pale shade of blue, flickered with unease, although the creature didn’t seem to realize what had happened.
Or how vulnerable he’d become.
“Such brave words for a woman about to die,” he rasped.
With a covert movement she shifted her hand to grasp the smooth stock of her gun, her finger resting on the trigger.
“Don’t be so certain.”
“But I am.”
His whispering beneath his breath reminded her that even if he were temporarily mortal, he was still a powerful mage who could turn her into something nasty.
Or worse.
She had been given a miracle; she wasn’t about to waste it.
“And I’m about to prove the mystic reputation of Hunters hasn’t been exaggerated,” she informed him, lifting her hand to press the muzzle of the gun against his temple.
Then, before he could react, she pulled the trigger.
At the last minute he managed to jerk to the side, but the bullet still managed to rip through his skull, sending a spray of blood and gore flying through the mist.
His hand released its hold on Jaelyn as he fell to his knees, his face unrecognizable. But even as she felt his life draining away he reached out to grasp her leg, his touch causing an agonizing pain to jolt though her body.
“You will pay for this,” he warned despite his mangled lips.
“Really?” She kicked him away, shuddering at the tiny tremors of pain that continued to torment her. “Where’s your Dark Lord now, wizard?”
His eerie laugh was swallowed by the fog. “I will serve him even in death.”
“Yeah, yeah ...” Struggling against the urge to collapse, Jaelyn shoved the gun back into its holster and waited while the wizard slowly died.
Serve him in death.
What a load of ... “Crap,” she hissed, belatedly realizing that the human blood she’d just minutes ago considered a miracle was now flowing in small rivulets directly toward the child.
Like an idiot she leaped forward, trying to halt the flow of blood, or at least to divert it away from the babe.
A wasted effort.
The blood continued its unwavering path, as if directly being controlled by the child.
And perhaps it was, she was forced to accept, meeting the steady blue gaze that held a disturbing cunning.
Damn.
What to do, what to do.
The thought of leaving the baby behind was unthinkable.
If the Dark Lord managed to resurrect himself then none of the worlds would be safe from the hell he would unleash.
But even as she moved to pick up the child the fog began to thicken around the tiny body, obscuring it from her view.
She tried to battle her way past the flimsy barrier, but it was like treading water, a lot of flailing around without getting anywhere. Muttering in frustration she circled the spot, the hair on the nape of her neck standing on end at the electric pulses of energy she could feel coming from the fog.
Something was happening.
Something very, very big.
And with the way her luck was running, it was also very, very bad.
Which meant that it was time to go.
Backing away, she kept her gaze trained on the wall of mist, nearly stumbling over the swiftly rotting carcass of the wizard. With a shiver she leaped to the side, her attention briefly distracted.
As she skirted around the body a silvery laugh danced on the air and Jaelyn snapped her head up to discover a slender young woman standing just a few feet away.
She was a beautiful creature with long, dark hair that spilled over her naked skin, which was tinted a rich honey. Jaelyn guessed she was seventeen in human years with a pair of disarming dimples and wide blue eyes that were alarmingly familiar.
Eyes that she’d seen mere minutes ago in the face of a baby.
The Dark Lord.
In the flesh.
Quite literally.
Seemingly pleased by Jaelyn’s gaping horror, the female held out her hand in a coaxing gesture.
“Jaelyn,” she purred, her voice a potent weapon that nearly sent Jaelyn to her knees. “Sweet vampire, join with me and I will fulfill your every desire.”
The urge to move forward and clutch that offered hand beat through her with merciless insistence. Her foot had even taken a treacherous step forward as she frantically fought for the strength to break free of the Dark Lord’s compulsion.
It was at last her bond with Ariyal that saved her from certain enslavement.
Clinging with a fierce desperation to the feel of his presence buried in her heart, she conjured the image of his lean face and stunningly beautiful bronze eyes to distract her mind.
Suddenly she was filled with his essence, the scent of warm herbs almost tangible in the air.
A faint frown touched the creature’s exquisite face as she sensed her hold on Jaelyn slipping away.
“Vampire, I command you to come to me.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Hell no.”
Spinning on her heel, Jaelyn took off through the fog as if the devil was nipping at her heels.
And she was.
Behind the Veil
If Santiago was foolish enough to believe he had won the battle, Nefri swiftly disabused him of the fantasy.
While she willingly led him to the hallowed halls of the Great Council room, she had refused to allow him to enter.
He grimaced, pacing the marble hallway with a growing impatience.
It had been worse than a refusal.
She had walked into the massive room, with its glowing chandeliers and long ebony table surrounded by a dozen pompous-looking pricks he assumed were the Elders, and rudely slammed the door in his face.
Locked out, Santiago had been left to twiddle his thumbs.
And to curse the powerful female vampire who was rapidly becoming his personal nemesis.
A most beautiful nemesis
, a renegade voice whispered in the back of his mind.
And sexy as hell despite her aloof, can’t-touch-me demeanor.
Or perhaps that’s what he found so enticing.
What predator didn’t like the thought of hunting his prey? The more elusive the better.
Passing the time with images of the perfectly groomed Nefri lying rumpled and sated with pleasure in his bed, Santiago was able to resist the urge to beat something or someone to a bloody pulp.
Almost as if he was actually civilized.
Ha.
At last the heavy double doors of the Great Council were thrust open and Nefri stepped into the hallway, her perfect composure unable to disguise the concern that burned in her dark eyes.
Moving forward, he deliberately blocked her path with his larger body. She might be more powerful, but he wasn’t above fighting dirty.
She wasn’t getting away until he was satisfied that she’d revealed every word that had been exchanged behind closed doors.
“Well?” he prompted.
Her lips thinned, but she didn’t bother to pretend she didn’t know what he wanted.
“Gaius is no longer behind the Veil.”
Even expecting the words, Santiago stiffened in shock.
For centuries he’d refused to think of his sire, or to wonder what his life might be like with his new clan. But somewhere in the back of his mind had lurked the knowledge that Gaius was alive and well behind the Veil.
So why, after sacrificing his relationship with Santiago, not to mention all the others who depended on him, would he leave?
And why now?
Aware of Nefri’s piercing gaze, Santiago managed a humorless smile.
“I won’t tell you I told you so.”
“So kind,” she said dryly.
He folded his arms over his chest, barely noticing the hushed echo of footsteps as the remaining vampires spilled from the room and disappeared through the various passageways.
If they were truly as wise as was claimed, then they would know better than to interfere in his private conversation.
“Where is he?”
Her hands smoothed over her dark robes. “No one knows for certain.”
“Convenient.”
“Our people are not prisoners, Santiago.” There was a bite to her smooth words. Had he touched a nerve? “They are free to come and go as they please. That does not make him guilty.”
“When was he last seen?”
“Nearly a month ago.”
“A month?” he growled, his brows snapping together.
“Yes.”
“And no one thought it was weird that he just disappeared ?”
“Our people are dedicated to their studies.” Her chin tilted. “It is not uncommon for us to seclude ourselves for weeks or even years.”
Freaking perfect.
If it was Gaius who had attacked Caine and Cassandra in Salvatore’s cellar and later kidnapped them from Caine’s home, then he had plenty of time to prepare a hidden lair where they would never find him.
Their only hope now was figuring out what the hell had prompted the vampire, who had been legendary for his brilliant intelligence and complete lack of political ambitions, to commit treason.