“Santiago,” Nefri warned, moving to stand at his side.
“They’ve been trailing us since we entered the swamp,” he said, squashing the urge to shove her behind him. She was not a female who needed protection, and she wouldn’t thank him for undermining her authority. Especially not with these particular demons. “The question is, why?”
On cue the glowing orbs began to pulse and expand, taking on physical forms.
Holding the dagger in a loose grip, he resisted the urge to pull out his sword. No point in ratcheting up the tension until he was certain the demons intended a fight. Besides, his fangs and claws were far more lethal than any blade, no matter how sharp it might be.
There was a surge of electricity, and then the glowing lights faded to reveal the six female Harpies standing in front of them.
They were gorgeous, of course. With long black hair and gray eyes that swirled with the power of thunderclouds, their naked bodies were leanly muscled with large wings on their backs. Always formidable warriors, they used their beauty to distract their enemies before striking them down with the fireballs they could conjure from thin air.
They were also crafty as hell, easily trapping unwary males in hidden snares to hold them captive during their mating season. Not that the males usually protested, he wryly conceded. A Harpy in heat was most men’s idea of a sexual fantasy. Endless days of aggressive sex with no commitment. And if some men took exception to being treated as a mere stud, the majority found their imprisonment nothing short of paradise.
Santiago, however, wasn’t thinking about sex as the warriors studied him with their stormy gray eyes. Instead he watched them with a wary frown.
“We follow you because you trespass in our territory, vampire,” the tallest of the Harpies said, her voice stirring the thick air.
Nefri took a half step forward, offering a regal bow. “It was not our intention to disturb your nest.”
Continuing to glare in Santiago’s direction, the Harpy appeared unimpressed. “The foul air has disturbed us, sister,” the Harpy said.
“Hey, not my fault,” Santiago muttered.
The closest Harpy held out her hand, a sudden ball of fire dancing just above her palm. “Be quiet, male,” she snarled.
“He speaks the truth,” Nefri smoothly interjected.
“We will decide who speaks the truth,” the taller Harpy informed them, pointing a finger in their direction. “Take them.”
Santiago reached for his sword, only to be halted when Nefri laid a restraining hand on his forearm. “No, Santiago. There’s no need to fight,” she said softly. “I’m certain we can reason with our companions.”
His gaze never wavered from the females, who looked eager for an opportunity to singe him with their fireballs. “They don’t seem to be in the mood to reason,” he growled.
“Which is why we shouldn’t provoke them.”
It was the violent urge to shake her hand off and launch himself at the Harpies that made him hesitate. He could be impulsive, but never in battle. He’d learned long ago the best war was the one never fought.
It had to be the effects of the lingering spell, or whatever the hell was contaminating the air, he grimly acknowledged. Which meant one wrong move and this entire encounter could descend into a bloody massacre that none of them wanted.
“Fine.” With an effort he forced himself to tuck away his dagger, and lifted his hands in surrender. “But don’t blame me if this goes to hell.”
The lead Harpy gestured toward the Harpy at her side. “Charis, take the male to our guest rooms.”
“No,” he snapped, stepping back. “I’m not leaving.”
The Harpy narrowed her stormy eyes. “It wasn’t a request.”
“Santiago.” With a cool brush of her fingers over his cheek, Nefri managed to capture his full attention. “It will be fine. I promise.”
“Dios,”
he muttered, knowing he’d been undone by a mere touch. This female was going to be the death of him.
Keeping his gaze on Nefri’s pale, perfect face, Santiago allowed the female Harpy to grab his arm, her wing stroking over his back with an unwelcome intimacy.
“This way, my pretty leech.”
Chapter 7
Only centuries of training allowed Nefri to disguise her flare of fury as Charis tugged Santiago through a curtain of clinging vines and disappeared from sight. How dare the young Harpy attach herself to Santiago like a barnacle. And the way she was rubbing her wings over him . . . it was indecent.
Santiago wasn’t here to become her sex toy.
In fact . . .
With an effort, Nefri squashed the image of grabbing the lovely Charis by her dark hair and shaking her until her teeth rattled. Instead she calmly allowed herself to be led through the brackish water and thick undergrowth, she was only briefly startled when they stepped through a thin barrier of magic to enter a vast parkland that had cement dykes to hold back the swamp and perfectly manicured gardens that bloomed beneath the fading moonlight. In the center, a large wooden structure was suspended off the ground by a dozen sturdy trees and built on several different levels that disappeared among the thick branches.
It was large enough to house at least three dozen Harpies, with room for the communal nursery that traditionally consumed the top floor.
Acutely aware she was being watched by guards hidden among the leaves, Nefri kept her head held high and her pace steady as she was led past the flowering bignonias and pure white lilies. They left the gardens through a high archway and entered a narrow foyer that was lined with panels of glossy oak carved with elaborate designs.
A spiral staircase stood in the middle of the room and three of her companions peeled off to jog up the steep steps, while the remaining two escorted her down the hall to a room at the back of the building.
Halting at the door to stand guard, the two indicated for Nefri to enter.
As if she had a choice?
Refusing to reveal any hint of weakness, she stepped over the threshold and took a quick inventory of her surroundings. It was a large room with an open-beamed ceiling and fur rugs thrown on the wood-planked floor. She didn’t look too closely at the fur, knowing it was more likely the pelt of a demon than an animal. Harpies made very bad enemies.
There were a number of priceless tapestries hung on the walls and the furniture was finely crafted and covered in a pale blue satin.
An elegant room that spoke of authority and yet with enough womanly touches to make it comfortable.
As a female ruler, Nefri appreciated the subtle statement, even as the warrior in her took in the sword leaning in a far corner and the silver letter opener on the desk near the stone fireplace. She also noticed a faint scent of gunpowder that warned there was a gun hidden somewhere nearby.
At last her attention turned toward the female standing in the center of the floor. She was tall with the long, black hair of most Harpies. There were a few silver strands threaded through the darkness, which indicated she was several centuries old, and a hard-fought wisdom in the gray eyes. At the moment she was wearing a plain white gown that was slit down the back to allow room for her wings and wide gold bracelets around her wrists that indicated she was the leader of this particular nest.
“Matron,” she murmured with a respectful bow of her head. Unlike most men, Nefri understood that good manners were often more persuasive than any amount of bluster and intimidation.
“Vampire,” the woman responded, the low voice rumbling through the room like thunder.
“Please, call me Nefri.”
The woman nodded. “And I’m Solaris, Matron of this nest.”
“I am honored to meet you.”
“We shall see.” The storm gray eyes held a warning as she waved her hand toward the built-in bar. “I have refreshments. Or I can call for one of my sisters. There are a few who enjoy donating their blood to vampires.”
“No, thank you.” Nefri’s smile remained, but the sudden realization that Santiago might even now be at the throat of some willing Harpy jolted through her, exposing a raw emotion she hadn’t felt in centuries. Was that . . . jealousy? Good lord, she was losing her mind. “Where is my companion?”
The Harpy regarded her with a piercing intelligence. “He’s your property?”
Nefri paused to consider her answer. In Harpy society males were treated as possessions that were meant to be shared with the entire nest.
“He is under my protection,” she at last said. “And unavailable.”
“A pity.” A mysterious smile curved the woman’s lips. “We have several younglings about to enter their first mating heat.”
Nefri’s expression never altered, but she couldn’t control the frigid burst of power that made the overhead chandelier sway and at least one crystal vase shatter.
“A vampire can’t breed.”
Solaris arched a brow. “I’m aware of your reproduction deficiencies, which is why I encourage the young ones to choose a vampire for their first lover. They can have all the pleasure of mating without the concern of pregnancy. Most aren’t ready yet for motherhood.”
Oh no. Hell no.
Two more vases shattered.
“As I said, Santiago isn’t available.”
The Matron ignored the destruction of her expensive collection, her own power a steady pulse that could unleash a deadly barrage of fire.
“It’s not nice to be so selfish,” she chided Nefri. “Such a beautiful creature should be enjoyed by all.”
Don’t overreact, Nefri,
she silently warned herself,
the woman is only trying to provoke you.
“For now I have need of his skills.”
“Will you return him when you’re done with his”—deliberate pause—“skills?”
“No.”
“Ah.” Solaris gave an abrupt laugh. “Be careful, my sister. That one will not be easily trained.”
Trained? Santiago was a barbarian.
Not that his primitive passions didn’t have a certain appeal, she grudgingly conceded. In fact, she was beginning to think that a few hours of raw, untamed sex might just be what she needed to bring an end to her annoying fascination with the male vampire.
With a silent curse, she shoved Santiago to the back of her mind. Soon enough she would have to deal with her disturbing reaction to him. One way or another. But for now she needed to focus on the most immediate danger.
And the Matron was a danger, despite her gracious manner. One wrong answer and Nefri would go from being a guest to a prisoner.
Or a pile of ash.
Something she intended to avoid.
“Perhaps we should discuss the reason you’ve had me brought to your nest,” she suggested.
“Straight to the point?” Solaris shrugged. “Very well. I want to know why the vampires have declared war on us.”
Nefri was on instant, full alert. War? Was this a trick?
“I assure you the vampires have no desire for war with anyone, least of all the Harpies,” she cautiously addressed her companion.
Solaris allowed her power to thicken the air in the room. As if Nefri needed a reminder that she was more than a match for a vampire, even one as ancient as Nefri.
“Then why are they attempting to poison our lands?”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
With a smooth step, Solaris crossed to pour herself a glass of some milky white liquid. Nectar? Taking a sip, she turned back to study Nefri with a hard gaze.
“Peace had finally settled among my people with the death of the Dark Lord.”
“It has been a blessing for all of us,” Nefri agreed.
“A blessing as well as an opportunity for the more powerful demons to flex their muscles.” The gray eyes turned dark with the threat of a looming storm. “It wouldn’t be the first time vampires enslaved those too weak to fight back.”
Nefri wasn’t stupid enough to deny the charge. The vampires had once been little better than savages who’d wielded their superiority to use and abuse the less fortunate. Even if they were fellow vampires.
“That’s the past,” she pointed out, meeting the accusing glare with a calm composure. “The new Anasso is eager to build alliances, not to make enemies.”
“And yet he sent a vampire to the border of our lands who has been spreading his infection.”
Damn. Nefri had harbored a small measure of hope that the local demons hadn’t been aware of Gaius. Or whoever (or whatever) had caused the bloodbath in his lair.
Fooling humans was simple. Demons wouldn’t be nearly so easy.
“You’re referring to Gaius?”
“I didn’t ask his name. He was medium height with dark hair and a prominent nose. And a most”—the female shuddered—“pungent aroma.”
Nefri hesitated. The Oracles had wanted this mess cleaned up as swiftly and quietly as possible, but with every passing minute it was obvious the danger was snowballing at a terrifying rate.
This was no time for diversions or discreet lies.
She not only needed whatever information the Harpies could offer, but she had to make sure they were safe. Her duty to the Commission would never be more important than the lives of innocents.
Of course, she’d been a diplomat for centuries. A small amount of truth was often preferable to a full disclosure.
“The vampire you refer to is a traitor to his people and a servant of the Dark Lord,” she admitted. “I traveled here to make sure he faces punishment for his crimes.”
Solaris emptied her glass before setting it aside. “A convenient claim.”
“I can only give you my word.”
“And what of his strange abilities?” the Harpy demanded, her voice thickening with a dangerous power. “Do you want me to believe they come from his worship of the Dark Lord?”
“I’m not sure what strange abilities you’re referring to.”
Solaris’s wings gave an impatient flap. “His ability to infect others with his bite.”
Nefri frowned, not having to pretend her confusion. She expected claims of brutal killings or missing younglings. Not . . . infections.
“I don’t fully understand. What do you mean by infecting others?”
The Harpy studied her with a piercing gaze, perhaps seeking some sign that Nefri was lying. Then, with a powerful stride she was headed toward a door hidden behind one of the tapestries. “Come with me.”
Nefri followed behind Solaris, startled to discover herself being led through a steel-lined corridor that opened into a large room filled with a number of high-tech computers and surveillance equipment.
“I had no idea that Harpies built such elaborate nests,” she murmured as Solaris paused before a heavy door, using a key card to trip the lock.
The last Harpy nest that Nefri had entered had been little more than a few walls and a thatch roof.
“We’ve had to keep up with technology, although there are still matriarchies who prefer to live in a more primitive environment,” she said, leading Nefri down another corridor, this one lined with doors.
A glance through one open door was enough to reveal they’d reached the prisons.
“Is Santiago being held in these cells?” she demanded, uncertain why Solaris had brought her here.
Solaris glanced over her shoulder. “Of course not. For now he’s a guest and being offered our finest hospitality.” A taunting smile touched her lips. “Happy?”
Well aware that Harpy hospitality included food, drink, and sex with a willing female, Nefri was forced to swallow a low growl. “Not particularly,” she muttered.
“Here.”
Coming to a halt at a door being guarded by an older Harpy with a hard face and the air of a seasoned warrior, Solaris gestured toward the small window set in the steel door.
With a frown Nefri moved forward, studying the gaunt human male who was pacing the cell with short, jerky steps. He looked young, perhaps twenty, dressed in filthy jeans and a Polo shirt that was torn and covered in blood. His hair was matted with dirt and his face shredded by claw marks that Nefri suspected were self-inflicted.
A pathetic creature, but what did it have to do with her? She returned her attention to the female at her side. “Is he mad?”
“If that was all that was wrong with him, I would have killed him the minute he stumbled close to our nest.” Solaris glanced toward the silent guard. “Open the window.”
With a grimace the warrior leaned sideways and slid the pane of glass open a few inches. Immediately a choking cloud of . . . aggression—the only word that came to her mind—filled the air.
Nefri shuddered, her fangs fully extended and aching for blood. “Good lord,” she rasped.
Solaris hissed as her muscles tensed and her eyes swirled with the power of an approaching hurricane. “He was in our territory for less than one day and he triggered a dozen fights that broke out among various demons, including two of my Harpies, and caused an entire pack of hellhounds to turn on one another,” she said between clenched teeth, as vulnerable to the evil in the air as Nefri. “Four of them are dead.”
Nefri took an instinctive step back. She was close to snapping. “Is he the only one?”
“The only one who has survived. We found several corpses that had been drained and two others that looked as if they’d fought to the death.”
“Please.” Nefri clenched her hands, her mind clouding with a bloodlust that she hadn’t felt in centuries. “Close the window.”
Solaris nodded toward the guard, who hurriedly slammed the glass shut. For a minute there was a heavy silence as each of them struggled to leash the violence that bubbled through their veins.
At last, giving a low curse, Solaris turned to stab Nefri with a frustrated glare. “Are you prepared to confess what is going on?”
Nefri gave a slow shake of her head, feeling a stab of betrayal. What had the Commission done?
This . . . spirit . . . or whatever the hell it was, had been locked behind the Veil for endless centuries and never once had the Oracles warned her that it could be a danger to her people, let alone turn them into savage zombies.
And now she was learning that Gaius’s bite might actually be infecting humans....