No.
The last thing she wanted was Santiago to be in danger.
If she tried to reach out for help it would be the Oracles. They were, after all, the ones who’d started this whole mess.
Trying to clear her mind enough to reach out mentally to Siljar, she was abruptly distracted as a vampire stepped in the room.
He was a short, bullishly built male with a bluntly carved face and silver hair that was pulled into a tight queue at his neck. Oddly, he was dressed in a velvet tunic and leggings that had been the fashion centuries ago, with a heavy war hammer clenched in one hand.
Holy hell.
She would have stumbled backward in shock if she’d been in control of her legs. As it was, she was forced to stand in frozen horror as her former master strolled to a halt directly before her.
“Ah, my blessed daughter.” Theo’s voice rumbled through the thick silence, his pale brown eyes shimmering with the same insatiable greed she remembered with acute revulsion. “At long last.”
“No,” she hissed. “You’re not real.”
He sneered with pleasure at her swelling fear. “Did you miss me, my beautiful Amazon?”
Miss him?
She’d put him in his grave.
How else was she ever to halt the devastation he was forcing her to wreak on innocents?
So many killings . . .
“You’re dead,” she managed to grit.
“Dead, but not forgotten.”
She felt her fear being shifted to fury, the emotion swelling through the air and spilling out of the building. Soon the intense passions would be infecting her people and the spirit would be able to feast to his cruel heart’s content.
That’s why it had created this vision of her former sire.
It had rooted around in her mind until it had managed to locate the one memory capable of producing the most intense reaction.
“No, I won’t let you use me.” Grimly she struggled to leash her anger, already sensing the bewildered reaction of her people. “Not again.”
“But you’re such a loyal soldier,” he mocked, looking so real that Nefri could almost sympathize with Gaius’s belief that his mate had been returned to him. “So eager to please me that you were willing to destroy an entire clan.”
“No.”
“Now, now, Nefri,” he chided. “Don’t you remember?”
Against her will the memory of the brutal battle that had killed over two dozen vampires and their human servants seared through her mind, leaving behind an aching sadness laced with a crippling guilt.
“I remember,” she whispered.
Theo laughed, relishing her pain. “Do you hear their screams when you close your eyes?”
Still locked in her paralysis, she could only tremble as the spirit ruthlessly played her emotions like they were a musical instrument.
“Yes.”
“Do you taste their blood?” he pressed.
“It’s over,” she rasped.
“No, it’s still there. The monster inside you just waiting to be released.”
And that was it.
Her greatest fear.
The reason she had traveled beyond the Veil and devoted herself to creating a place of utter peace.
A Garden of Eden.
Only I am the serpent
, a voice whispered in the back of her mind.
The devil just waiting to destroy paradise
.
“Stop,” she cried.
“Aren’t you tired of denying your emotions?” Theo asked, his tone lowering to become a hypnotic murmur. “Of being less than who you are?”
She desperately tried to block out the insidious voice, hearing the distant sounds of fights beginning to break out among her clan.
Violence where there had never been any before.
“I won’t listen to you.”
“I was so proud of you,” her dead master purred. “A beautiful, lethal weapon who could make the world shudder in fear.”
“No.”
“But what have you become?” he persisted. “A shallow husk of yourself. A female who is forced to cower behind this Veil as if you’re ashamed of your greatness.”
Her muscles trembled as she tried to fight against the spirit holding her captive.
She had to get free long enough to find a weapon. She knew beyond a doubt once the spirit had fed enough to regain its strength it would send her on a bloodbath that would destroy her people.
She was going to die before she allowed that to happen.
Caught in the strange, motionless battle, Nefri almost missed the familiar scent that floated on the breeze.
“Santiago?” she whispered in confusion.
The vision of Theo briefly wavered, becoming a black mist, as Nefri concentrated on the sense of Santiago approaching the building. Then, with a sharp movement the illusion was coalescing and shifting to block her vision.
“Bastard,” her sire growled. “Send him away.”
“Never.”
The pale brown eyes hardened with an ugly anger. “He’s like all the others, can’t you see that? He only wants to use you.”
Just a few days ago the cruel taunt would have hit its mark. She’d been manipulated and abused too many times not to harbor a suspicion that anyone trying to get too close wanted something from her.
Now, however, she didn’t hesitate. “You’re wrong,” she said with an unmistakable confidence.
“Why else would he be with you?” Theo demanded. “If he truly cared he would have listened when you insisted you preferred to be left alone.”
A soft warmth flowed through her heart, replacing the anger and pain and fear that had been coursing from her and pulsing through the air to infect her people.
“He cares about me.”
“He only wants your power,” Theo snarled. “With you he can take command of his own clan. Perhaps even challenge the Anasso.”
“Nefri.” Santiago’s voice cut through the vision’s filthy lies, steadying her.
“Kill him,” Theo commanded even as he began to fade beneath the reality of Santiago’s presence. “Kill him before he can destroy you.”
Santiago stepped into the building, half dragging a sadly decomposing Gaius beneath one arm.
He walked cautiously forward, his dark gaze studying her with a fierce intensity. “Are you okay?”
“Stay back,” she commanded, wishing he had never appeared despite the fact his mere arrival had given her strength.
She couldn’t bear it if the spirit forced her to hurt him.
He held her gaze as he continued his slow pace forward. “I can’t do that.”
She trembled. “Please.”
“Trust me, my love.”
“I’m”—she could feel the spirit inside her trying to cloud her mind—“not in control.”
“Then give me the control,” Santiago urged, his beautiful face softened with an expression of love so pure it muted any attempt by the spirit to stir her anger.
Not that the spirit was about to give up without a fight.
Unable to claim her mind, it instead tightened her muscles, clearly preparing to attack.
“Santiago.” Her eyes held a growing panic. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. You know I will always be here for you. I will never fail you.” He held out one arm in welcome even as he clutched the seemingly unconscious Gaius in the other. “Trust me.”
What was he doing?
Did he think she could actually fight off the spirit?
She might be powerful, but she wasn’t Wonder Woman.
A cry was wrenched from her throat as her body was suddenly hurtling forward, her fangs fully extended. It was the only warning Santiago had, but it should have been plenty to give him the opportunity to dodge her attack.
Instead, he stood with an unwavering determination, barely flinching when she rammed into him with the force of a cement truck.
Her fangs sank in his neck as he wrapped an arm around her waist, his voice barely audible over the terror that pounded through her.
“Now, Gaius.”
Chapter 29
Sally had never actually tried to walk around with an elephant on her back. It wasn’t the sort of thing that even a witch did on a regular basis. But after the past few minutes she was pretty sure she now knew what it would feel like.
Kneeling in front of the safe, which had been fully exposed by the simple process of Styx and Roke bashing through the remaining bricks, she felt sweat trickling down her face and her muscles trembling in protest.
She’d used magic from the day she’d left her cradle. Maybe even before then.
She’d perfected the fine art of casting until she could perform them with flawless precision; she could brew potions that were so potent they sold for twice the usual price. And she could sense a spell from a remarkable distance.
But while she was highly proficient in the usual arts, she’d never actually tried to manipulate magic.
It was . . . exhausting.
Both mentally and physically.
Each layer of magic had to be carefully unraveled from the complex web, but it wasn’t like they disappeared. She had to maintain her hold on each thread while continuing to loosen the others.
And all the while, she knew one wrong tug could create an explosion that would destroy even vampires.
Gritting her teeth, she tried to ignore her rapidly fading strength. Just a little more and . . . a moan was wrenched from her throat as she felt herself beginning to sway.
Crap, crap, crap.
She raised her hands to keep from falling on her face, but she’d barely moved an inch when strong arms wrapped around her and the sensation of cool, euphoric power pulsed through her weary body.
Roke.
He was using their connection to give her the strength she needed.
The debilitating fatigue faded from her mind and she tilted back her head to offer a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
His lean, compelling face remained hard with disapproval even as he gently brushed a strand of hair from her pale cheek. “Sally, you can’t keep going like this,” he said gruffly.
“I’m close.”
“I don’t care.” His voice was strained, as if he were barely preventing himself from physically hauling her away from the warehouse. “You’re going to burn yourself out.”
“I can’t stop now.”
The dark eyes smoldered with frustration. “You can at least rest.”
“No. If I let go . . .”
“What?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Let’s just say bad things will happen.”
His arm abruptly tightened around her shoulders, his expression resolute. “How many times do I have to tell you? Nothing is going to happen to you,” he swore softly.
A treacherous warmth threatened to melt her heart as he regarded her with an unwavering devotion. Her very own hero who would slay her endless parade of dragons.
Then she was grimly squashing the stupid thought.
His devotion wasn’t real. It was nothing more than a symptom of the mating she’d forced on him.
It would disappear the moment they managed to break the bond.
And she would be an idiot to let herself believe for a second that beneath the sham of their mating Roke considered her anything but the enemy.
And that if they managed to survive the night, she would soon be alone, with no one to depend on but herself.
Again.
“Considering the fact I’ve had a bounty on my head since I was sixteen, there’s a good possibility that it’s going to be a daily lecture,” she muttered wryly. “Or at least until—”
“Not now,” he broke in, to her reminder this was only temporary.
“What can we do to help?” Styx demanded, keeping guard near the door.
“I don’t think anyone can help,” she admitted, her concentration returning to the numerous threads that she struggled to keep from slipping her magical grasp. “I have to do this on my own.”
“But not alone,” Roke whispered in her ear, tugging her until her back was pressed against the solid muscles of his chest. “Lean against me.”
Her heart did that terrible melting thing again, but she focused her energy on the remaining weave that protected the book.
Even with Roke’s added strength she was soon soaked in perspiration, her knees aching from being pressed against the hard floor, and her mind pounding with a headache that wasn’t going to be cured by a couple of extra-strength aspirin.
Then, she slowly peeled away the last weave to reveal the book that the sorcery had been protecting.
A book that wasn’t a book.
“Blessed goddess,” she breathed in shock.
Roke stiffened. “What’s wrong?”
“I removed the last layer of magic.”
Styx was at their side before she could even blink. Damn vampire speed.
“And?” he rasped.
She instinctively pressed into Roke’s comforting hold. It wasn’t that he was any less intimidating than the King of Vampires. But he was at least . . . familiar.
“I’m not sure.”
Styx warily glanced inside the top of the safe that had been ripped off by Roke.
“Can you sense the book?”
She shuddered. “Oh yes.”
Roke shifted so he could study her troubled expression. “Is it magic?”
“No, it’s a . . .” She bit her bottom lip, struggling to find the words to explain the darkness that threatened to suck them all into oblivion. “A void.”
Styx turned to stab her with a piercing gaze. “A void?”
“Like a black hole that sucks away everything around it.”
If she hadn’t been so weary she would have laughed as Styx jumped away from the safe as if he’d been poked by a cattle prod.
“Are we in danger?” he growled.
She used her magic to probe the strange void, baffled by the sense that it was pulling in . . . something, but unable to determine exactly what that “something” was.
“Not immediate danger,” she said slowly, grimacing at her companions’ matching expressions of aggravation. “Hey, that’s all I can promise.”
Roke absently smoothed a comforting hand down her back. She swallowed a rueful sigh. He was obnoxious and arrogant and bossy beyond bearing, but someday he truly was going to make some female a wonderful mate.
“So how was this book able to hurt the spirit?” he asked.
Hmmm. How to explain what she was sensing to two vampires who made a habit of pretending magic didn’t exist.
“It’s not really a book,” she at last admitted.
Predictably Roke frowned in suspicion. He understood a book. Even one that might hold magical spells. “It’s not?”
She lifted her hands, searching for the right words. “It has the physical appearance of a book, but it’s only a focal point for the power.”
Roke frowned, but not bothering to try and question what a focal point might be, he honed in on the most important detail of her revelation. “That doesn’t explain why it affects the spirit.”
Styx paced toward the door and back, clearly lost in his own thoughts. “Santiago said that the creature feeds on emotion,” he abruptly stated.
“So a void . . .” Roke’s eyes widened. “Of course. It would starve him.”
It took a minute for Sally to follow their line of logic, then she gave a sound of shock.
The void was absorbing emotions.
A perfect weapon to battle the creature.
Whether or not it was created to perform some other purpose was impossible for her to say.
“Can the book, or whatever the hell it is, be moved?” Styx asked, his warrior mind already considering the best way to use their unexpected advantage.
She shrugged. “In theory.”
Styx nodded. “So now the question is, how do we track a spirit that can seemingly jump from body to body?”
It was Sally’s turn to be struck by a sudden fear. Not for herself. But for Roke, who would insist on being a part of the hunt for the spirit.
“Santiago knows this is the only thing that can hurt the creature,” she hurriedly pointed out. “He’ll do everything in his power to return him to this warehouse.”
Styx looked far from pleased by her sensible suggestion. Like all vampires he had the patience of a human five-year-old.
Or maybe the need to leap willy-nilly into danger was a male thing.
“So we wait?” he growled.
She shrugged. “What else can we do?”
Without warning, Roke was straightening, dragging her upright so he could wrap her in his arms. “I know what you’re going to do,” he said in tones that made the hair on her nape stand upright.
“What’s that?”
“You’ve done your part.” He held her gaze, his expression ruthless. “It’s time for you to return to your rooms.”
“I agree,” Styx abruptly nipped her urge to argue in the bud. “It’s . . .”
There was no warning.
At least none that Sally could detect.
It was simply as if an invisible doorway opened and an entwined trio of vampires tumbled into the room.
“Too late,” she croaked.
Santiago had endured torture on an epic scale.
In the Gladiator pits mere survival meant enduring pain that would kill a lesser demon.
But even prepared, he couldn’t prevent his grunt of agony as Nefri’s fangs sank into his throat and her claws dug deep grooves into his back.
Cristo.
He’d known she was lethal, but even without using her innate powers she was a formidable enemy. He would have only minutes before she tired of her game and ended him.
Time enough?
He was about to find out.
Keeping a death grip on the rapidly dying Gaius, as well as maintaining his hold on Nefri, he braced himself for their abrupt return to the warehouse.
He would never, ever get used to traveling through space like a damned Jinn.
His feet had barely hit the floor when he sensed Styx rushing forward.
“Santiago.”
“Wait.” He dropped Gaius so he could hold out a warning hand. “She’s being controlled by the spirit.”
“Good,” the Anasso growled. “I’ve been waiting for the bastard.”
On cue Nefri ripped her fangs from his throat, whirling to face the towering vampire.
“So. At last I meet the great Anasso,” Nefri mocked, her power beginning to fill the air. “The King of All Vampires.”
Styx moved backward, drawing Nefri away. Santiago sank to the floor, the blood dripping from his wounds as his flesh slowly knit back together.
“An empty title,” Styx said, his voice taunting. “Almost as empty as that of god.”
An eerie laugh fell from Nefri’s lips. “Shall I demonstrate how wrong you are?”
Styx braced himself for the coming attack. “Roke, don’t let her get past the door,” he commanded. “And Santiago . . .”
“I’ll guard the windows.”
Santiago began to rise to his feet when Gaius grabbed his hand.
“My son . . . wait.”
Santiago hid a grimace, knowing his former sire had only minutes left. “What do you want?”
Shaking from the effort, he grabbed the medallion and with the last of his strength, he broke the chain that held it around his neck. “Here.”
Santiago flinched from the medallion that had been tainted by the Dark Lord. The small piece of metal had caused untold misery. “Keep it,” he growled.
“No . . .” Gaius grimaced, his rotting face a gruesome mockery of the handsome, vital vampire he’d been just weeks ago. “You must destroy it.”
He was right.
Even if the Dark Lord was dead and they managed to destroy the spirit that was their latest threat, the medallion symbolized evil.
It couldn’t be allowed to remain in the world.
Santiago reluctantly took the medallion. “I’ll make sure it’s destroyed.”
“Thank you. I—”
“Don’t,” Santiago interrupted. He would never be able to fully forgive this man for his betrayals. Not when he’d nearly destroyed the world with his selfish needs. But a part of him now at least understood what would drive a man to such extremes. “I will remember my sire as the man who took me into his lair and gave me a home,” he said in a low voice. “The man who taught me the meaning of family.”
“Son . . . my son . . .” A shattered moan of relief hissed past Gaius’s lips before the light died from his eyes and he was allowed to escape the slow, painful decay.
Rising to his feet as Gaius turned to ash, Santiago slipped the medallion into his pocket, determined to honor his sire’s last request.
Then he turned just in time to witness Nefri sending a blast of power toward Styx.
The very air sizzled before the power smacked into Styx with enough force to send him flying into the far wall. The entire building shook from the impact, broken plaster cascading down on their heads.
“You truly can’t think you can beat me,” Nefri said in genuine incredulity. “I created you.”
Styx pulled himself from the rubble, dusting the clinging bits of cement from his leather pants. “What makes you think I need to beat you?”
“Why else would Santiago so cleverly force me back here?” With a sharp thrust of her hand, Nefri’s power again sent Styx crashing into the wall.
Santiago cursed, knowing that the violent collision with the wall had to be cracking bones and puncturing inner organs. The Anasso, however, refused to betray the slightest hint of vulnerability as he surged upright, allowing his own powers to knock Nefri backward.
“Because we have a gift for you,” Styx drawled. “We’ve removed the protective spells around the book.”
“No.” Nefri hissed, her body growing rigid as the spirit belatedly realized the danger. “I won’t be trapped. Not again.”
Styx smiled. “Not your choice.”
“Fool.”
With a screech that nearly busted Santiago’s eardrum, Nefri launched herself toward Styx, her power exploding through the room to send them tumbling to the floor.
Fighting against pulses of frigid energy that threatened to crush him, Santiago forced himself back to his feet. Step by painful step he inched forward, his heart clenched with fear as Styx struggled to hold off the vampire lost in her bloodlust.