Fear the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity) (2 page)

“Shit.” Viper folded his arms over his chest. “This had better be important.”

“Would I have left Darcy if it weren’t?” he demanded, the mere mention of his mate sending a tiny pang of longing through his heart. Over the past months the beautiful female Were had become his very reason for living.

With a throaty roar of power, Roke brought his turbine to a halt and, sliding off the elegant machine, he crossed to stand before them.

Dressed in black jeans, a leather jacket, and moccasin boots that reached his knees, he was not as tall as Styx, although they shared the same bronzed skin and dark hair that brushed his broad shoulders. His features were lean with the high cheekbones of his Native American bloodlines and a proud nose. His brow was wide and his lips generously full. But it was his eyes that captured and held attention.

Silver in color, they were so pale they appeared almost white, the shocking paleness emphasized by the rim of pure black that circled them. They were eyes that seemed to pierce through a person to lay bare their very soul.

Not always the most comfortable sensation.

Especially for those who didn’t particularly want their soul laid bare.

Which was . . . yeah, pretty much everyone.

“Styx.” Offering a low bow, Roke’s movements were liquid smooth as he slowly straightened and with stunning swiftness hurled a dagger to stick in the ground not an inch from Viper’s expensive leather shoes. “Viper.”

Viper growled, giving a wave of his hand to dislodge the dirt around Roke’s feet. All vampires could manipulate the soil, a necessary skill to protect them from the sun or to hide the corpses of their prey, but Viper was particularly skilled, and in less than a blink of an eye, Roke was buried up to his waist.

“Are you two done playing?” Styx demanded, his icy power biting through the air.

The clan chief of Nevada climbed out of the sandpit and dusted off his jeans, his expression as inscrutable as ever. “For now.”

Viper made a sound of impatience. “Why are we here?”

Styx nodded toward their companion. “Roke has something he believes we should see.”

“His collection of blow-up dolls?”

“Christ. Enough.” Styx bared his massive fangs in warning. He didn’t know what the hell had gone down between the two clan chiefs in the past and right now he couldn’t care less. He didn’t have time for their bullshit. “Roke, show me.”

“This way.”

In utter silence the three vampires ghosted through the darkness, moving with a speed that made them all but invisible.

They were nearing a line of rugged hills when Viper made a sound of impatience. “As much as I adore running through the barren desert, do we have an eventual destination?” he muttered.

On cue, Roke came to a sharp halt, pointing toward the desert floor just in front of them. “There.”

Viper rolled his eyes. “Man of few words.”

“Preferable to one who doesn’t know when to shut it,” Roke countered.

“Agreed,” Styx said dryly, shifting so he could study the ground where Roke was pointing. It took a long moment to recognize that the lines etched into the dry dirt were more than just the scribblings from some human. “Oh . . . shit.”

“What the hell?” Viper tilted back his head as he caught the lingering scent. “I smell pureblooded Were.”

“Cassandra,” Styx said, easily recognizing the scent of his mate’s twin sister, who had recently been revealed as a powerful prophet.

“And Caine,” Viper added. “Why would they be in the middle of the Mojave Desert?”

Now that was a hell of a question.

The pair of pureblooded Weres had been missing for weeks, despite Styx’s best efforts to locate them. An unbelievable feat considering he possessed the best trackers in the world. Of course, if the rumors were true, then the two Weres were already beyond his reach.

Which made any clue as to how she’d been captured or how to retrieve her from her current prison priceless.

“I’m more concerned with what they left behind,” he admitted, prowling around the edges of the strange symbols.

Viper frowned. “An etching?”

Styx shook his head. “It looks more like a hieroglyph.”

“A prophecy,” Roke said with a quiet confidence.

Styx turned to study the clan chief with a searching gaze. “Can you decipher it?”

“Yes, it’s a warning.”

Viper frowned. “You’re a seer?”

Roke shook his head, his gaze trained on the lines etched into the ground. “There’s only one prophet. But I was sired by a wisewoman who taught me to read the signs left by our forefathers.”

Of course. Styx abruptly understood precisely why he was standing in the middle of a desert. “So now we know why Cassandra chose to travel to Nevada,” he said wryly.

“Why?” Viper demanded.

He pointed toward Roke. “Because it was the one place to make certain her message would be understood.”

Viper snorted. “She could have sent a text and saved us a trip.”

Styx’s attention never wavered from the silent Roke. It was impossible to judge how the vampire felt about being pulled into the battle against the Dark Lord.

But then, he no doubt realized that it wasn’t a choice. Styx wasn’t the head of a damned democracy. He led his people by cunning and brute force when necessary.

“How did you discover this?”

“A cur stumbled across it two nights ago,” Roke promptly answered. “There are no Were packs in the area so he came to me with the information.”

“How many others did he tell?”

Roke instantly understood Styx’s concern. “None, but it’s been here at least two, maybe even three weeks.” He grimaced. “It’s impossible to know how many others have seen it.”

A pity, but there was nothing to be done, Styx silently conceded. “Could anyone else interpret it?”

Roke paused before giving a shake of his head. “Doubtful.”

Viper crouched down, studying the desert floor with a frown. “What does it say?”

Roke moved forward, careful not to disturb the marks as he pointed toward the strange etching closest to them. “This is the symbol for the Alpha and the Omega.”

Styx froze at the familiar words.

“The children,” he murmured, speaking of the twin babies that had been found by the half-Jinn mongrel, Laylah. She hadn’t known that they were the babies mentioned in the prophecies. Or that they’d been created by the Dark Lord so he could use them as vessels for his eventual resurrection. “What about them?”

Roke traced the symbol in the air. “Here they are joined.”

Styx nodded. When Laylah had found the children they’d been wrapped in the same stasis spell and she’d assumed there was only one child.

“Yes.”

“And then they were separated.” Roke pointed toward the second etching. “The Omega is lost to the mists.”

Viper muttered a low curse. Styx didn’t blame him.

They’d struggled to protect the children, but while Laylah and Tane had managed to rescue the boy child and named him Maluhia, the girl child had been taken through the barriers between dimensions and used by the Dark Lord in his attempt to return to this world.

Styx shifted his attention to the last symbol. “What’s this?”

“The children reunited.”

Hissing in disbelief, Styx turned to meet Roke’s steady gaze, the pale silver eyes even more eerie than usual. “Reunited?”

“‘The Alpha and Omega shall be torn asunder and through the Mists reunited,’” the clan chief of Nevada murmured, quoting the Sylvermyst prophecy.

“Maluhia,” Viper breathed, his expression grim. “Cassandra was warning us that the baby is in danger.”

“Shit.” Styx shoved his hand in his pocket to yank out his cell phone, his sense of furious urgency frustrated by the realization there was no service. He needed to get back to civilization. Now. Grasping the startled Roke by the upper arm, he headed back across the desert at a blinding speed. “You’re coming with us.”

Three weeks earlier
Las Vegas

The Forum Shops in Caesars Palace were a wonderland for any female, let alone one who had spent the past thirty years secluded from the world.

Beneath the ceilings that were painted to resemble a blue sky, the elegant stores wound their way past fountains that were intended to transport shoppers back to Roman days. Glass display cases were filled with the sort of temptations designed to make a woman drool.

With a wry smile, Caine stepped behind his dazzled companion to wrap his arms around her waist, tugging her back flat against his chest. He could only wish Cassie would look at him with that same wistful longing, he ruefully acknowledged.

Or perhaps not, he swiftly corrected as his body hardened with a familiar, brutal need.

Since discovering Cassie being held prisoner in the cave of a demon lord weeks ago, Caine had done his best to play the role of knight in shining armor.

Although possessing the natural strength of a pureblooded Were, Cassie had not only been altered in the womb not to shift, but she was as innocent as a babe and twice as vulnerable.

Add in the fact she was the first true prophet born in centuries, and currently being hunted by every demon loyal to the Dark Lord, and she was a disaster waiting to happen.

She desperately needed a protector.

And since Caine, once a mere cur, had died and been resurrected as a pureblooded Were in her arms, he’d assumed that protecting Cassie was the reason the fates had returned him to this world instead of leaving him to rot in his well-deserved hell.

Unfortunately, his miraculous return to life hadn’t included a sainthood and he remained a fully functioning male with all the usual weaknesses.

Including a rampaging lust toward the tiny female currently wrapped in his arms.

As always completely impervious to his torment, Cassie breathed a soft sigh of wonder. “Oh . . .”

“Cassie.” Bending down, he spoke directly in her ear. “Cassie, listen to me.”

She tilted back her head to meet his narrowed gaze and Caine briefly forgot how to breathe.

Holy shit, but she was beautiful.

Her hair was pale, closer to silver than blond, and pulled into a ponytail that fell to her waist. Her skin was a perfect alabaster, smooth and silken. Her eyes were an astonishing green, the color of spring grass and flecked with gold.

Her face was heart-shaped with delicate features that gave her an air of fragility that was only emphasized by her slender body. Of course, beneath her jeans and casual sweatshirt, she possessed the lean muscles of all pureblooded Weres.

“What?” she prompted when he continued to gawk at her in mindless appreciation.

He sucked in a deep breath, savoring the warm scent of lavender that clung to her skin. “You promised me that you would blend.”

She wiggled from his grasp and darted toward the nearest store to press her face against the window. “Mmm.”

Caine rolled his eyes. “I knew this was a mistake.”

“There’s so many,” she murmured as he moved to stand beside her. “How do you choose?”

“We’ll go into a store, pick out a few of your favorite clothes and try them on—”

“Okay.”

Without waiting for him to finish, Cassie was darting through the open doorway. Caine was swiftly on her heels, but with immaculate timing a buxom nymph with dark hair and brown eyes pretended to stumble and landed against his chest.

Instinctively, his hands reached to grasp her shoulders, his sapphire blue eyes narrowed with irritation.

Once upon a time he had appreciated beautiful females tossing themselves into his arms. Even though he’d been a mere cur, his short blond hair that fell across his brow and tanned, surfer good looks ensured he had more than his fair share of babes. And it didn’t hurt that his body was chiseled muscles beneath the low riding jeans and muscle shirt.

And oh yeah, he’d made an obscene fortune cranking out prescription drugs from his private lab.

Now it took every ounce of willpower to politely set aside the damned nymph and not toss her into the line of sleek metallic mannequins showing off the latest designer swimwear.

“Didn’t we meet in . . .” she began, but Caine wasn’t listening as he swept past her and headed straight toward the tiny blonde who was fingering a pretty white sundress with black polka dots.

“Cassie.”

He had barely reached her side when her hands grasped the bottom of her sweatshirt and began pulling it over her head.

“I want to try it on.”

“Holy shit.” He grabbed her hands, yanking the sweatshirt back into place. “Wait.”

She frowned in confusion. “But you said—”

“Yeah, I know what I said,” he muttered. When was he going to learn she took every word quite literally?

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Never.” He brushed a finger over her pale cheek. Christ, she was so unbearably innocent. “Why don’t you show me what you like and I’ll pick out the right size?”

“You can do that just by looking?”

His lips twisted in a dry smile. “It’s a gift.”

“A well-practiced gift?”

He stilled, regarding her in surprise. Despite the fact they’d been constant companions over the past weeks, Cassie rarely seemed aware of his presence, let alone the fact that he was a red-blooded male.

Not that he took it personally. She was plagued by her visions of the future and too often impervious to the world around her.

“Are you truly interested?” he husked.

She flashed him a dimpled smile. “Perhaps.”

He swallowed a growl, his body once again hard and aching. She was going to have a raving lunatic on her hands before this was over.

“Better than nothing.” He motioned toward the hovering saleslady, indicating he wanted one of the sundresses, before steering Cassie toward the khaki shorts and pretty summer tops. “Now, let’s choose a few sensible outfits before we move on.”

Within an hour they had a reasonable pile of clothes for both of them and a bill that would make most men shudder in horror.

Caine, however, didn’t so much as flinch as he gathered the packages and headed out of the store. They had left Missouri with nothing more than the clothes on their backs after Cassie had offered her warning to Laylah. Tonight he intended to enjoy a hot shower, clean clothes, good food, and a soft bed. In that order.