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Authors: Alexandra Ivy

BOOK: Bound By Darkness
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He, on the other hand, had barely been out of his foundling years when his sire had grimly informed him that he could not bear this world after the loss of his mate and was leaving to join those beyond the Veil.
The memory of his rejection was like a raw wound that had never fully healed for Santiago.
“I thought your ... clan had turned their backs on the mortal world,” he accused between clenched teeth. “What are you doing here?”
“The disruptions that are thinning the barriers between dimensions are affecting us as well.”
“Ah.” He regarded her with an acid gaze, even as his body continued to react as if it had never seen a woman before.
Madre Dios.
If he didn’t leash his instincts he’d have her tumbled on the nearby bed and showing her just what she’d been missing all those long, lonely years. Maybe she would even discover a new appreciation for a mere barbarian.
Or maybe she would rip out your heart and feed it to the wolves
, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. For some reason the thought only intensified his smoldering anger. “So you were willing to remain in your little slice of paradise while the rest of us went to hell, but now that you’re being threatened you’re ready to take notice of the danger?”
Her dark gaze held a piercing intelligence that warned she could see far more than he wanted to share.
“So bitter,” she murmured softly. “You cared very deeply for Gaius.”
He squared his shoulders, refusing to allow the memory of his sire to rise to mind.
“I care about the family who didn’t abandon me,” he growled, “which is why I would do anything to protect them.”
“I am here to offer assistance, not harm.”
“Easy enough to claim.”
“True,” she readily agreed. “What will it take to convince you?”
Oh, he could think of several possibilities.
Erotic images flashed through his mind, most of them focused on having those cherry lips wrapped around a specific body part.
With a growl he was crushing the dangerous thoughts. How often had he used his own potent sexual attraction to defeat his enemies?
He wasn’t going to be led around by his cock.
“It’s no coincidence you are in this precise spot at this precise moment,” he accused.
With an elegant motion Nefri moved toward the window overlooking the backyard, her hair rippling like liquid ebony in the moonlight.
“No, it is no coincidence,” she admitted. “Like you I am searching for the prophet.”
Santiago curled his fingers, ignoring the itch to run them through those satin strands of hair.
“Why?”
She turned back to meet his wary gaze. “It was our hope to protect her from the Dark Lord by taking her beyond the Veil.” She waved a hand toward the empty room. “I fear we were too late.”
Yeah. He knew the feeling.
“How did you even know of Cassandra?”
A Mona Lisa smile curved her lips. “We are not utterly isolated.”
“So you’ve been spying on us?”
“There are those who travel between worlds,” she said without apology. “And when it became known that there were rumors of a seer I began to investigate. She is ...”
He frowned as she hesitated. “What?”
Nefri reached into the pocket of her robes to pull out a thin book no larger than the palm of her hand.
“She is vital to the future of all our worlds.”
He studied the book, sensing its age. “What is that?” She stroked loving fingers over the battered red cover. “A book of prophecies that I took beyond the Veil when the Dark Lord began to destroy them.”
His brows lifted. Books of prophecies were as rare as actual prophets.
“And?”
“Most of them are gibberish, I fear.”
Santiago snorted. “Typical.”
“But, there is one that speaks of the birth of the Alpha and the Omega.”
The Alpha and the Omega ...
Santiago stiffened. They were the same words spoken by the Sylvermyst who warned that the child Laylah had protected for so long was destined to return the Dark Lord to this world.
It couldn’t be a coincidence.
“What does it say?” he rasped.
“It warns that the ‘harbinger of truth’ must not be silenced,” she said without hesitation.
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
He clenched his teeth. Why the hell couldn’t prophets just spit out the future in words a person could understand?
“Still gibberish.”
“No.” Nefri shook her head. “A warning that I intend to heed.”
She lifted her hand to grasp the medallion around her neck. The gold metal inscribed with some ancient hieroglyphs began to glow, filling the room with a strange heat.
Santiago instinctively lifted his sword. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I am going to search for the female.”
Despite his hatred toward the Immortals, and the very real possibility she might fry him if he tried to interfere in her dramatic departure, Santiago stepped forward, grasping the woman’s arm.
“Not without me, you’re not.”
She went rigid beneath the firm grip of his hand, her dark gaze studying his fierce expression.
“I had forgotten,” she whispered.
His fangs throbbed at the exotic scent of jasmine and pure female.
“Forgotten what?”
“How aggressive males tend to be in this world.”
He leaned forward, allowing their lips to brush as he spoke his low warning.
“
Querida
, you haven’t seen aggressive yet.”
Chapter 5
Jaelyn perched on the steeply slanted roof, her eyes narrowed as Ariyal easily tugged open the unlocked skylight.
She shook her head, her unease intensifying as she shifted to crouch beside the Sylvermyst.
“It must be a trap.”
“No one ever thinks an attack will be coming from above. Especially vampires.” Ariyal shot her a taunting smile. “Not surprising considering the fact they spend the majority of their lives in the dank ground.”
Jaelyn clenched her hands, silently condemning Siljar and the rest of the Oracles to the nearest hell.
It had been bad enough to be stuck with the unpleasant duty of tracking down Ariyal and hauling him to the Commission. But now ...
She was a Hunter, not a babysitter for an aggravating, pain-in-the-ass Sylvermyst.
“We aren’t dealing with a vampire,” she said between clenched teeth.
He shrugged. “No, but this lair was built for one and Sergei spent most of his life in the company of a leech.”
She allowed her frigid power to swirl through the air. “You’re pressing your luck,
fairy
.”
He flashed a wicked smile before he was shifting to drop through the skylight with a liquid grace. He landed without a sound and tilted back his head to meet her jaundiced gaze.
“Are you coming?” he softly demanded.
“As if I have a choice,” she muttered beneath her breath, refusing to acknowledge his astonishing beauty as a stray beam of moonlight played over his pale, perfect features and the fascinating shimmer of his bronze eyes. Instead she pushed forward and landed next to the fey in the narrow hallway, her senses sweeping through the townhouse. “The mage is below us.”
“Yes.” He paused, turning his head toward a closed door just down the hall that was paneled in a dark, glossy wood with gilt-framed paintings gathering dust. “But there’s a spell of protection through there.”
She frowned. “The babe?”
“Only one way to find out.”
“Don’t forget your promise,” she warned, muttering a curse as he ignored her to shove open the door and disappear into the room beyond. She was swiftly following behind him, stepping into the obvious nursery to find the annoying man standing near a wooden cradle. “Ariyal, did you hear me?”
“Perhaps you should let me concentrate, poppet,” he commanded, his gaze focused on the crib, where she could see a tiny bundle she presumed was the child. “We’re surrounded by a spell.”
She froze, glaring at her companion in smoldering frustration.
Dammit. She hated taking orders almost as much as she hated magic.
A double reason to feel the urge to rip off someone’s head.
“I told you this was a trap,” she hissed.
“It’s not a trap.” He held up his slender hands, waving them above the crib as if trying to sense some unseen force field. “There’s a magical web to protect the child.”
“Can you get rid of it?”
His brow furrowed as he concentrated on the magic he could apparently sense beneath his hands.
“Yes, but not without alerting the mage.”
“Too late,” a voice drawled from the doorway.
Jaelyn whirled around, prepared to pounce as she caught sight of a man standing in the doorway wearing nothing more than a burgundy robe with his silver hair hanging about his thin face.
Vaguely she recognized him as Sergei, the mage from the Russian caves, although his gaunt, unshaven face and his shadowed eyes suggested the past weeks hadn’t treated him kindly. Still, whatever his troubles, his magic was obviously working just fine as he managed to cloak his scent and approach them without warning.
He flinched at the flash of her fangs, his hand shaking as he held up a small glass vial filled with an amber liquid.
“Stay back, vamp,” Sergei warned. “I spent several centuries concocting the perfect spell to kill a vampire as slowly and painfully as possible.”
“Do you think you can cast it before I put an arrow through your heart?” Ariyal stepped beside her, stretching out his arm to clench and unclench his fingers. There was a shimmer in the air and suddenly an ash bow complete with a wooden arrow was in his hand. With a smooth motion he had it cocked and ready to fire.
Jaelyn grimaced. She might fully approve of the mage becoming a human pincushion, but the knowledge that Ariyal could make the bow and arrows appear from thin air creeped her out.
She had a definite allergy to wooden arrows.
Sergei paled, no doubt recalling his one-time ally had an itchy trigger finger.
“Relax, Ariyal,” the mage attempted to soothe. “There’s no need for any of us to be hasty.”
Ariyal remained poised for battle. “Put away the vial.”
“You’re the trespasser.” Sergei nervously licked his lips. “You put away your weapon.”
Jaelyn shifted. The two clearly had issues that had nothing to do with her and she had no intention of getting caught in the cross fire.
Not when the damned mage had a spell specifically designed to harm a vampire.
“A stalemate,” Ariyal mocked.
Sergei took a cautious step forward, his gaze darting toward the crib.
“If you’ve come for the child then you’re wasting your time,” he said. “You’ll die if you touch him.”
Ariyal made a sound of disgust. “You think that I can’t break through your magic?”
Sergei made a visible effort to gather his shaken courage. “I don’t doubt that you could shatter the protective shields around the cradle, but the spell I’ve placed on the child is specifically cast to harm those with fey blood.” He gave a tilt of his chin, covertly shifting another step into the room. “It was the only way to keep your friend Tearloch from taking off with my prize.”
Jaelyn scented the mage’s sour desperation, and she shifted to block his path to the baby, a cold smile curving her lips.
“Don’t even think about it.”
He halted, his pale eyes narrowing with a barely concealed hatred.
No love for vampires there.
“Stay back, leech,” he hissed, holding the vial over his head.
“You can’t win this game, mage,” Ariyal warned in lethal tones.
“You think I don’t know that?” the man snapped. “I’m no longer playing to win, merely to survive.”
“An unlikely outcome,” Ariyal drawled, deliberately drawing back the bowstring another fraction of an inch.
“Wait,” the man breathed, sweat blooming on his forehead.
“Why?” Ariyal demanded. “If you die the spell dies with you.”
“Along with the child,” the mage blurted out.
Jaelyn moved to place her hand on her companion’s arm. “Ariyal.”
“You would, of course, claim that you’ve bound the child to you,” Ariyal mocked, not bothering to glance in her direction. “I’m familiar with your habit of telling the truth only when it’s convenient.”
The pale eyes darkened with fear. “Do you want to risk killing the brat on the slim chance I’m lying?”
“Yes.”
“No,” Jaelyn interrupted, rolling her eyes at the typical male need to huff and puff at one another. Why actually communicate when it was so much more fun to bang on their chests? She turned to study to the mage, sensing that his terror went way beyond their own arrival in the townhouse. “What do you mean you’re merely trying to survive?”
Sergei gave a restless shrug. “I’m not a lunatic. Marika convinced me that resurrecting the Dark Lord would bring us both the power we craved, but I’ve discovered that such powers come at a price I’m no longer willing to pay.”
“Convenient,” Ariyal taunted.
“Actually it couldn’t be more inconvenient,” the mage snapped.
Ariyal didn’t hesitate. “Then give me the child and you won’t have to worry about the Dark Lord.”
“Right. And how long do you think I would survive without the child as protection? If you didn’t kill me then Tearloch most certainly would.”
“We could keep you alive,” Jaelyn smoothly offered, not at all surprised when Ariyal sent her a smoldering glare.
“Speak for yourself,” he rasped. “I have no reason to keep this spineless coward from his long-overdue grave. In fact, I’ve waited a long time to rid the world of his infection.”
“Ariyal ... shit.” Jaelyn moved with blinding speed toward the windows that overlooked the damp street, her senses on full alert. A swift glance was enough to discover the shadows that were moving through the front gate toward the portico. “It looks like your tribesman found reinforcements.”
Ariyal cursed. “How many?”
“I count six—no wait, seven Sylvermysts including Tearloch. And ...” Jaelyn gave a shake of her head as the shadows disappeared from view as they entered the townhouse.
Even out of sight her Hunter instincts could detect the heat of their bodies as they silently moved through the bottom floors, clearly searching for intruders. She could smell the distinct scent of herbs that revealed they were Sylvermysts and the hormones that marked them as male. But there was a strange ... emptiness, was the only way she could explain it, that was swiftly traveling in their direction.
“What?” Ariyal prompted.
She turned back to the Sylvermyst, her hand reaching for her shotgun only to come up empty. Dammit. She was getting a new weapon and hell would freeze over before Ariyal would take it away again.
“I don’t know what it is,” she admitted through clenched teeth.
Ariyal paused, allowing his own powers to search the house. “Tearloch.” His face was grim as he met Jaelyn’s wary gaze. “He’s called a spirit.”
“Can it hurt us?”
“Tearloch has a talent for raising the most powerful souls.”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” she muttered, glancing back toward the window. “We need to get out of here.”
“Not without the child.”
“For God’s sake.” She turned back, not surprised to find his beautiful features set in stubborn lines. “Have you ever heard the phrase ‘live to fight another day’?”
“Have you ever heard of ‘not putting off ’til tomorrow what you can do today’?” he countered, giving a tiny wave of the bow. “Get the child, Sergei.”
The mage shook his head, backing until he hit a cherry-wood armoire set in the corner of the nursery.
“No, I can’t.”
Ariyal shrugged. “Then I’ll kill you.”
“Better an arrow through the heart than what the Dark Lord’s minions will do,” Sergei choked out.
 
 
Ariyal hid a wry smile as he watched Jaelyn’s struggle against her desire to rip out his throat.
Or maybe it was his heart.
Whichever, she somehow managed to overcome her bloodlust. The question was ... why?
He was powerful, but if she truly wanted him dead, or even captured and hauled to the Oracles, there wasn’t much he could do to stop her.
Which only made him all the more curious what the hell she was doing there. And what she intended to do with him when she grew tired of her game.
Worries for another day, he was forced to accept as a dark mist floated through the wall and moved to hover next to the crib.
Lowering the bow that would be useless against the spirit, he watched as the mist solidified into the shape of a tall, sparse man with gaunt features and shaved head who appeared to be covered in a satin robe with a heavy silver pendant hung about his neck.
The spirit reached a thin hand toward the sleeping child. “Ah, the anointed one.”
His voice rumbled through the air, bringing with it the foul scent of the netherworld.
Ariyal stepped forward, but he was abruptly distracted as the mage moved at the same time, his thin face hard with revulsion.
“Rafael.” He breathed the name as if it was a curse.
The spirit slowly lifted his head, glancing toward the mage. Amusement seemed to flutter over the gaunt features before his lips twisted into a sneer.
“It is Master Rafael to you, mage.”
“No wizard is my master,” Sergei hissed.
Ariyal shifted to keep an eye on the two magical buffoons as well as Jaelyn, who was clearly unnerved by the sight of the spirit.
“You two acquainted?” he drawled.
“Our paths have crossed,” Sergei spat out, his gaze never leaving Rafael. “But while I am a true magic-user, he has given his soul to the Dark Lord.”
Ariyal arched a brow. “And you?”
The spirit released a low laugh that sent a shudder down Ariyal’s spine. Working with spirits had never been his talent and he rarely used his powers to draw the ghosts from the netherworld. Especially not one with the strength that he could sense pulsing about the dead wizard.

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