Fear the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity) (41 page)

The lightning flashed toward him, and with a curse he leaped to the side, his tail twitching. Some hero, he wryly acknowledged, sensing Abby escalating the power of the goddess as he darted from yet another bolt.

This wasn’t helping.

So what would?

As the question was rattling through his brain, he made another dodge, his gaze catching sight of the strange form that haloed the Dark Lord’s slender body.

Although most of his skills were questionable, the one constant was his ability to see through illusion.

Any illusion.

Squatting to avoid the latest strike of lightning, he ignored the fact the Dark Lord was forced to turn her fury back toward Abby, who was draining the last of her power into the wicked bitch.

Instead, he kept his attention locked on the aura that flickered in and out of focus around the Dark Lord.

There was something strange about it.

It was like the spirit was attached to the Dark Lord . . . but not fully integrated.

Or perhaps not fully committed.

Either way, he suddenly knew that this was his one shot.

Staying low as the two powerful deities continued their private battle, Levet inched his way forward.

The heat and pain pounded against him, but he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other. The closer he was to the Dark Lord, the less chance his spell would backfire and hurt someone else.

Vampires were so testy about friendly fire.

A sickly smile curved his lips as he lifted his hands. This was it. Do or die.

Concentrating on the spirit hovering around the Dark Lord, he released the magic that was as ancient as the beginning of time.

At first there was nothing more than sparkles of color that danced over the silhouette of the Gemini. It was a pretty display, but it didn’t even make the Dark Lord notice. Instead, she continued her ruthless attack on Abby, veins of crimson running beneath the pale ivory skin.

Stubbornly, Levet refused to concede defeat.

It was the Gemini protecting the Dark Lord.

Without that protection the bitch would be vulnerable to the Phoenix’s attack.

He lifted his hands, but even as he was preparing to launch another spell, the sparkles began to sink into the dark aura. The darkness quivered, as if the pinpricks of light were causing it pain. Or injury.

Levet was hoping it was injury.

He released his second burst of magic. This time the sparkles struck directly into the aura, exploding like tiny firecrackers.

The scent of burned flesh mixed with the charred odor of sulfur and a foul stench of a rotting carcass. As if someone had just yanked open a grave.

The darkness shuddered, then like thick molasses it began to pull away from the female form.

Levet gagged, belatedly realizing the Dark Lord had sensed her danger and whirled in his direction.

“What have you done?” she screeched, her hands reaching for the ephemeral spirit as if she could physically hold on to it.

“Exactly what I promised,” he croaked, drained to the point he could barely stand.

With an audible snap, the spirit pulled away from the Dark Lord, shooting away from the lights that danced in pursuit.

“No.” The female stumbled backward, clearly aware of her vulnerability. “This is impossible.”

“‘The word impossible is not in my dictionary,’” Levet quoted Napoleon, a smile curving his lips as Abby stepped behind the female and wrapped her hands around the Dark Lord’s neck.

“Die,” Abby whispered softly.

“You . . .” Shuddering as the power of the goddess flowed through her body, the Dark Lord glared at Levet with a soul-deep hatred. “You will pay for this.”

Levet was hoping it was an empty threat.

The evil
putain
was beginning to rot from the inside out as the goddess’s power poured into her, her skin splitting open to allow the crimson flames to spill out.

But even as she was dying, she reached out her hand and pointed her finger at Levet.

He darted to the side, but he was a half beat too late and even as the Dark Lord was enveloped in a shimmering mist, she sent out a bolt of lightning that struck him square in the chest.

He cried out, an unbearable agony exploding through his tiny body.
Sacrebleu
. This wasn’t the sort of pain a gargoyle could survive. Then, thankfully, he was tumbling into a waiting darkness.

His last thought wasn’t of death or sacrifice or even the scent of Yannah that suddenly filled his senses.

It was that he’d finally done it.

He was a bona fide hero.

He hoped they’d write a song.

Chapter 25

Having inched her way toward the battling deities, Cassie was acutely aware of the moment the Dark Lord died.

It wasn’t just that the entire room came to a silent halt. Or that the blinding lightning was no longer flashing.

Or even that the stench of sulfur was suddenly gone.

It was in the change in pressure that had been beating down on them. As if a terrible storm had passed over, leaving behind the fresh lightness of a spring day.

But she barely noticed as the evil creature was swallowed by a shimmering mist that obscured her from view. Her only thought was that Levet was lying motionless on the ground, his wings broken and his chest ripped open by the lightning strike.

“Levet.” Reaching his side, Cassie dropped to her knees, grasping his hand as she glared at the tiny female demon who appeared at her side. “Dammit, you promised to protect him.”

The demon regarded her with an unwavering black gaze, her expression giving nothing away. “I will take care of the gargoyle.”

Cassie bit her lower lip. “Is he . . .”

“Don’t worry.” The female offered a mysterious smile as she glanced over Cassie’s shoulder. “You should brace yourself.”

“What?”

There was the scent of anxious Were before she was pulled off her feet and hauled against a broad, naked chest.

“Cassie,” Caine growled, his heart pounding beneath her ear. “I told you to stay put.”

“Wait.” She glanced over her shoulder, heaving an exasperated sigh as she realized the demon had already disappeared with Levet.

For the female’s sake, Cassie hoped she took good care of Levet.

Otherwise, she intended to . . . well, she didn’t know what she would do, but it would be bad.

Really, really bad.

“Cassie?”

“Never mind.” She turned back to bury her face in the neck of her mate, breathing deeply of his welcomed musk.

He released a shaky breath. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Not anytime soon.”

“Did you see that in a vision?” he teased, threading his fingers through her hair so he could tilt back her head and flash a smile that had melted a thousand hearts.

A thousand and one, she corrected as she lifted his hand to press it against the middle of her chest.

“No, here.”

Lost in the wonder of one another, not to mention the realization they’d survived the end of the world, they ignored the demons fleeing from their lost cause, swiftly pursued by vampires and Weres.

And even the unexpected sound of crying babies.

It wasn’t until Styx and Salvatore came to a halt next to them that they were pulled out of their brief illusion of privacy.

The two kings were looking a little ragged around the edges. Styx was coated in blood with his hair hanging in a tangled curtain down his back, while Salvatore had managed to pull on a pair of sweats to cover his nudity, his body still healing from a number of wounds.

“God . . . damn,” the Anasso muttered, his gaze shifting behind Cassie.

“What now?” Caine rasped, setting Cassie aside as he straightened to face whatever new disaster was about to attack.

Cassie was slower to turn. She didn’t want any more bad.

Not for a very long time.

At first her gaze lingered on a weary Abby, who was being held in Dante’s lap as he stroked tender kisses over her pale face. She looked drained, but amazingly unharmed considering she’d just battled the Dark Lord.

Eventually, she turned to see the vampire with the mohawk and fearsome beauty standing beside his half-Jinn mate, Laylah, as she held two babies in her arms.

Maluhia and his twin sister.

The babies created by the Dark Lord for his glorious resurrection who were now innocent children with the opportunity to follow their own destinies.

“Is it over?” she breathed.

“The Dark Lord is dead,” Styx said, pointing toward the singed spot on the floor where she’d disintegrated beneath the power of the goddess.

“Really, truly dead?” Salvatore demanded.

“So it would seem.”

They all turned to study the ancient vampire, but it was the King of Weres who spoke the words they were all thinking.

“You’re not filling me with warm fuzzies here, leech,” he said. “Are we safe or not?”

Styx gave a slow shake of his head. “I’m not sure. That kind of power . . .” He grimaced. “It just doesn’t disappear.”

Cassie understood what he meant.

At least vaguely.

Wasn’t there a theory about black holes and the quandary of what happened to the energy that was sucked into them? If the universe refused to allow energy or information to be lost, then what about the power of a deity?

But at the moment, it was all too deep to process.

Thankfully, Caine felt the same way. With one fluid motion, he was scooping her off her feet and cradling her against his chest.

“That seems like something for kings to worry about, not us peasants,” Caine assured them. He smiled down at her, a wicked promise in his blue eyes. “And I have a long overdue honeymoon.”

“Take care of her,” Salvatore warned, his voice gruff.

“I know, I know,” Caine said. “She’s the prophet . . .”

“No,” the King of Weres interrupted. “She’s a part of our family.”

“Family,” Cassie murmured, a warmth flooding through her heart.

She’d been alone for so long.

Now she had . . . everything.

Everything a woman could possibly desire.

“Whether you like it or not,” Salvatore warned.

“We like it very much,” Cassie said, giving her mate a warning pinch.

“Fine.” Caine sent his king a warning frown. “But let’s not plan any reunions for a century or two.”

Clearly done with the conversation, Caine turned to make his way out of the bloody basement, holding her as if she were a precious treasure.

“Wait,” she abruptly demanded, ignoring her mate’s sigh of resignation.

“What now?”

She lifted her head to peer over his shoulder, meeting Styx’s curious gaze.

“There’s one prophecy I had years ago that I nearly forgot.”

The Anasso was instantly wary. “What is it?”

“The vampire who can read prophecies.”

“Roke?”

“Yes, he’s going to be important for the future of the vampires. Keep him safe.”

Styx’s large body stiffened in instant alarm. “He’s in danger?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. That’s all I have.”

“Wait . . .” The vampire moved forward as Caine resumed his path to the door. “I have questions.”

“She’s officially off duty,” Caine growled, ignoring the chaos left behind them.

Cassie smiled, not at all bothered by his ruthless refusal to stop. She was more than ready to be just another female spending time alone with her mate.

“Where are we going?” she at last demanded as they left the warehouse and stepped into the moon-drenched night.

“Vegas, baby.” His smile held a promise that sent her heart racing. “Vegas.”

Epilogue

It was nearly dawn when the last of the vampires left the battleground, seeking the protection of their lairs.

Cautiously, Gaius crawled from beneath the stone wall that had collapsed on him after he’d been flung into it. A rather amazing stroke of luck, considering it’d protected him from the ongoing battle.

And more importantly from Styx and his goon squad, who would no doubt have killed him on sight.

Not that he was entirely certain he was glad to have survived.

His slavery to the Dark Lord might have ended, but he was a traitor to the vampires. He would have to spend the rest of eternity trying to hide from their wrath.

He was a pariah with no place to go and no one he could turn to for help.

Lost in his bout of self-pity, Gaius rose to his feet and glanced down at his bruised and bloody body. He would have to find someplace to hide, but first he needed to feed.

Taking a step forward, he was brought to an abrupt halt as a voice whispered through his mind.

“Gaius.”

“No.”

He gave a panicked shake of his head. It couldn’t be the Dark Lord. The bitch was dead. He could feel it in his very soul. The one he’d once sold.

The voice came again. “Help me.”

“No. Get out of my head.”

“Gaius, it’s Dara.”

He stilled, his hands curling into tight fists. “That’s impossible. You’re a trick of the Dark Lord.”

“No, Gaius,” the voice reassured him. “Your mistress is dead, but her death brought me here.”

He frowned. Was it possible?

The dimensions had been ripped open.

If the demons of hell could escape, why not the dead?

“You’re here?” he asked cautiously, his desperate need to be reunited with his mate warring with the memory of the last time he’d been lured by the promise of Dara.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Where?”

“Follow my scent.”

He hissed in shock as the evocative aroma of myrrh and cinnamon teased at his nose.

It was her.

No one else carried precisely that scent.

Only his mate.

Moving as if he were in a dream, Gaius stepped over the rotting corpses and forgotten weapons, headed toward a distant corner. As he neared, a black shadow seemed to shift, coalescing into a slender female form covered by a plain white gown stretched on the hard ground. His step quickened and the darkness again swirled to reveal an oval, honey-tinted face that was framed by a curtain of straight, blue-black hair.

“Dara.” Falling to his knees at her side, Gaius reached to stroke trembling fingers along the pure line of her jaw. “How is this possible?”