Darkness Avenged (Guardians of Eternity) (2 page)

Styx hadn’t become king just because he was baddest of all bad-asses. He was also frighteningly perceptive. Narrowing his eyes, he studied Santiago’s bitter expression with a disturbing intensity.

“Does this have something to do with Nefri and her return to her clan?”

Nope. Not discussing it.

Santiago jerkily moved to shove one of the glasses into Styx’s hand. “Here.”

Briefly distracted, the ancient vampire took a sip of the potent spirit, a faint smile curving his lips. “From Viper’s cellars?”

“Of course.”

Styx’s smile widened. Despite being predatory alphas, Styx and Viper, the clan chief of Chicago, had become trusted friends. It was almost as shocking as the fact that vampires and Weres had become allies. At least temporarily.

Which only proved the point that doomsday truly did make for strange bedfellows.

“Does he know you’re enjoying his private stash?”

“What he doesn’t know . . .” Santiago lifted his glass in a mocking toast before draining the tequila in one swallow.
“Salud.”

“You know,” Styx murmured, setting aside his glass, “maybe I should try my hand at
Dr. Phil
.”

Santiago poured himself another shot. “You said you needed my help.”

“That was the plan, but you’re in a dangerous mood,
amigo
. The kind of mood that gets good vampires dead.”

“I’m fine.” Santiago drained the tequila, savoring the exquisite burn. “Tell me what you want from me.”

There was a long pause before the king at last reached to pull out a dagger that had been sheathed at his hip. “Do you recognize this?”

“Dios.”
Santiago dropped his glass as he stared in shock at the ornamental silver blade that was shaped like a leaf with a leather pommel inset with tiny rubies. “A
pugio
,” he breathed.

“Do you recognize it?”

His short burst of humorless laughter filled the room. Hell yeah, he recognized it. He should. It belonged to his sire, Gaius, who had once been a Roman general.

Centuries ago he’d watched in awe as Gaius had displayed the proper method of killing his prey with the dagger. What a fool he’d been.

Of course, he wasn’t entirely to blame. Like all foundlings, Santiago had awoken as a vampire without memory of his past and only a primitive instinct to survive. But unlike others, he hadn’t been left to fend for himself. Oh no. Gaius had been there. Treating him like a son and training him to become his most trusted warrior.

But all that came to an end the night their clan was attacked. Santiago had been away from the lair, but he knew that Gaius had been forced to watch his beloved mate, Dara, burned at the stake. And lost in his grief, Gaius had retreated behind the Veil where he sought the peace it supposedly offered.

Of course, it had all been a load of horseshit.

Gaius had allowed himself to be swayed by the promise of the Dark Lord to return Dara, and he’d gone behind the Veil to betray them all.

And as for Santiago . . .

He’d been left behind to endure hell.

Realizing that Styx was studying him with an all too knowing gaze, Santiago slammed the door on his little walk down memory lane.

“Gaius,” he said, his voice flat.

“That’s what I suspected.”

“Where was it found?” Santiago frowned as the Anasso hesitated. “Styx?”

Styx tossed the dagger on the desk. “A witch by the name of Sally brought it to me,” he at last revealed. “She claimed that she worked for Gaius.”

“We know he had a witch who helped him along with the curs.” Santiago nodded his head toward the
pugio
. “And that would seem to confirm she’s speaking the truth. Gaius would never leave it lying around.” He returned his gaze to Styx. “What did she want?”

“She said she had been using Gaius’s lair in Louisiana to stay hidden in case she was being hunted for her worship of the Dark Lord.”

“More likely she knew that Gaius was dead and decided to help herself to his possessions.”

Again there was that odd hesitation and Santiago felt a chill of premonition inch down his spine.

Something was going on.

Something he wasn’t going to like.

“If that was the case, then she was in for a disappointment,” Styx said, his expression guarded.

“Disappointment?”

“She says that a week ago she returned to the lair to discover Gaius was there.”

“No.” Santiago clenched his hands. This was supposed to be over, dammit. The Dark Lord was dead and so was the sire he’d once considered his father. “I don’t believe it.”

Something that might have been sympathy flashed through Styx’s eyes. “I didn’t either, but Viper was convinced she was speaking the truth. At least, the truth as far as she knows it. It could be that she’s being used as a pawn.”

Santiago hissed. His clan chief possessed a talent for reading the souls of humans. If he said she was telling the truth then . . .
dios
.

“I witnessed him coming through the rift with the Dark Lord, but how the hell did he survive the battle?”

“Actually, he only survived in part.”

Santiago struggled against the sensation he was standing on quicksand. “What the hell does that mean?”

“This Sally said that Gaius was acting strange.”

“He’s been acting strange for centuries,” Santiago muttered. “The treacherous bastard.”

“She said that he looked filthy and confused,” Styx continued, his watchful gaze never wavering from Santiago’s bitter expression. “And she was certain he didn’t recognize her.”

Santiago frowned, more baffled by the claim that Gaius had been filthy than his supposed confusion. His sire had always been meticulous. And Santiago’s brief glimpse of Gaius’s lair beyond the Veil had only emphasized the elder vampire’s OCD.

“Was he injured?”

“According to the witch, he looked like he was under a compulsion.”

“Impossible. Gaius is far too powerful to have his mind controlled.”

“It depends on who is doing the controlling,” Styx pointed out. “Sally also said that he was obviously trying to protect something or someone he had hidden in the house.”

With a low curse Santiago shifted his gaze to make sure the door was closed. No need to cause a panic.

“The Dark Lord?”

“No.” Styx gave a firm shake of his head. “The Oracles are certain the Dark Lord is well and truly dead.”

Santiago’s stab of relief was offset by Styx’s grim expression. The Dark Lord might be dead, but Styx clearly was afraid something was controlling Gaius.

“You’ve spoken to the Oracles?”

Styx grimaced. “Unfortunately. Since my first thought was like yours, that he’d managed to salvage some small part of the Dark Lord, I naturally went to the Commission with my fears.”

“And?”

The room suddenly filled with a power that made the lights flicker and the computer monitors shut down.

“And they politely told me to mind my own business.”

He gave a sharp laugh. How many times had Styx been told to mind his own business? Santiago was going with the number zero.

“How many did you kill?”

“None.” Styx’s crushing power continued to throb through the room. “My temper is . . .”

“Cataclysmic?” Santiago helpfully offered.

“Healthy,” Styx corrected. “But, I’m not suicidal.”

That was true enough. The King of Vampires might approach diplomacy like a bull in a china shop, but he was too shrewd to confront the Commission head-on.

No. He wouldn’t challenge the Oracles, but then again, Santiago didn’t believe for a second he was going to sit back and meekly obey their command.

Obey
and
Styx
shouldn’t be used in the same sentence.

“If this is none of your business, why did you come to me?” he demanded.

“Because Gaius is one of mine, no matter what he’s done,” Styx said, his face as hard as granite. “And if he’s being controlled by something or someone, I want to know what the hell is going on.”

“What about the Oracles?”

“What they don’t know . . .” Styx tossed Santiago’s words back in his face.

Santiago narrowed his eyes. It was one thing to sneak a bottle of tequila from Viper’s cellars and another to piss off the Oracles.

“And you chose me because . . . ?”

“You’re the only one capable of tracking Gaius.”

Santiago shook his head. “The bastard did something to mask his scent along with our previous bonding. I don’t have any better chance of finding him than you do.”

Styx’s smile sent a chill down Santiago’s spine. “I have full faith you’ll find some way to hunt him down. And, of course, do it without drawing unnecessary attention.”

Great.

Not only was he being sent on a wild goose chase, but he was in danger of attracting the lethal anger of the Oracles.

Just what he didn’t need.

With his hands on his hips, Santiago glared at his companion. “So you’re not willing to risk the wrath of the Commission, but you’re willing to throw
me
under the bus?”

“Don’t be an ass.” Styx allowed his power to slam into Santiago, making him grunt in pain. “If you don’t want to do this, then don’t. I thought you would be eager for the opportunity to be reunited with your sire.”

Santiago held up a hand in apology.
Mierda
. He truly was on the edge of sanity to deliberately goad the King of Vampires.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said. And it was true. Styx
was
right. He’d waited centuries for the opportunity to confront his sire. Now he’d been given a second chance. Why wasn’t he leaping at the opportunity? “It’s—” He broke off with a shake of his head.

“Yes?”

“Nothing.” He pulled out his cell phone, concentrating on what needed to be accomplished before he could head out. “I need to contact Tonya to warn her she’ll be in charge of the club.”

“Of course.”

“Where’s the witch?”

“She’s at my lair in Chicago. Roke is keeping an eye on her in case this turns out to be a clever trick.”

Santiago sent his companion a startled glance. Roke, the clan chief from Nevada, was in an even fouler mood than Santiago since Styx had refused his return to his clan after Cassandra had revealed that she’d seen Roke in one of her visions.

“The poor witch,” he muttered. “That’s not a punishment I would wish on anyone.”

Styx shrugged. “He was the only one available.”

Santiago froze. “Is there something going on that I should know about?”

A strange expression tightened Styx’s lean features. Was it . . . embarrassment?

“Darcy insists that I devote my Ravens to trying to locate that damned gargoyle.”

Ah. Santiago struggled to hide his sudden smile. The Ravens were Styx’s private guards. The biggest, meanest vampires around. The fact he was being forced to use them to locate a three-foot gargoyle who’d been a pain in Styx’s ass for the past year must be driving him nuts.

“Levet is still missing?” he murmured. The tiny gargoyle had astonishingly played a major part in destroying the Dark Lord, but shortly after the battle he’d disappeared into thin air. Quite literally.

“You find that amusing?” Styx growled.

“Actually I find it a refreshing reminder of why I’m happy to be a bachelor.”

Styx’s annoyance melted away as a disturbing smile touched his mouth. “Who are you trying to convince?”

Santiago frowned. “Convince of what?”

“That you’re happy?” the older vampire clarified. “From all reports you’ve been storming around here, making life miserable for everyone since Nefri returned to her clan behind the Veil. That doesn’t sound like a man who is content with his bachelor existence.”

Damn Tonya and her big imp mouth. Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Santiago held out an impatient hand. “Do you have directions to Gaius’s lair?”

“Here.” Handing over a folded piece of paper, Styx suddenly grabbed Santiago’s wrist, his eyes glittering with warning. “For now all I want is information. Is that clear?”

“Crystal.”

“The Oracles won’t be happy if they find out you’re trespassing in their playground,” Styx warned. “Stay below the radar,
amigo,
and be careful.”

Santiago gave a slow nod. “Always.”

 

Nefri made her return to the mortal world on a high bluff overlooking the Mississippi River.

She shivered, wrapping her long cape tight around her tall, slender body. Not from the cold, although the October night held a chill that had been absent during her last visit to this side of the Veil. But instead from the onslaught of sensations.

It was all so . . . overwhelming.

The scent of damp earth and the thick moss that edged the banks of the nearby river. The screech of an owl and the rustle of dead leaves. The feel of her long black hair stirring in the breeze.

And, of course, the more intimate sensations.

Fear. Hunger.

Passion.

Standing perfectly still, Nefri smoothed her pale, oval face to an unreadable mask, a serene smile curving her lips and her ebony eyes revealing none of her inner turmoil.

Her considerable strength could overcome most dangers in this world, but the Commission was made up of the most powerful demons. They could eradicate her with a mere thought.

It was always like walking a tightrope when she was forced to meet with them. A tightrope that might snap at any second and plunge her to her death.

At last prepared, Nefri stepped through the entrance of the caves that had been hidden behind a spell of illusion and moved to the center of the large chamber. On cue a Zalez demon appeared.

Just for a second there was the impression of a tall gaunt body with an overlarge head and tilted, almond-shaped eyes. Then the creature shifted into its human form, a Viking warrior with short, spiky blond hair and eyes the stormy blue of the Baltic Sea. His magnificent body was bronzed and fit for a god, which wasn’t surprising considering he’d been worshipped by more than one primitive society. At the moment that magnificent form was covered only by a pair of faded denims that hung low on his hips.

Nefri gave a small dip of her head, fiercely leashing her female reaction to the sexual pheromones released by the demon.

Zalez demons were part incubus and capable of becoming whatever form their companion most desired. Nefri had no desire to reveal her deepest fantasy.

Not after she’d devoted the past month to pretending those fantasies didn’t exist.

“Recise,” she murmured.

“Ah, Nefri, so good of you to come.” His voice stroked over her like warm velvet, his smile charming despite the fact they both knew she hadn’t had a choice.

An invitation from the Commission was an imperial command that only the most idiotic demon would ignore.

“Your messenger insisted that it was important,” she said.

Recise gave a slow blink. “The Oracles do not interfere in matters of the world unless it is of the utmost importance.”

Not boasting. Just simple arrogance.

“Yes, of course.”

“This way.”

Moving with a fluid grace, Recise led Nefri through the darkness, the pulse of his sexual energy easing as if realizing Nefri wasn’t in the mood to play.

They moved in silence through the tunnels that angled deep into the earth. The air was cool but surprisingly without the dampness that she expected, although she could hear the splash of a waterfall not far away.

More distantly she could catch the sound of muffled conversations, the languages as diverse as the creatures who made up the Commission. Like the United Nations, only with lethal demons who were happier killing things than negotiating.

Nefri hid her grimace as her companion came to a halt at the entrance to a large cavern.

“The Oracle is waiting for you in the back chamber.”

“Thank you.”

She waited until the Zalez continued down the tunnel before stepping into the cavern and allowing her senses to flow outward. It wasn’t that she expected a trap. If the Oracles wanted her dead, she’d be dead.

But the Oracles had a varied sense of moral values. She didn’t want to walk in on demons having a public orgy, or sacrificing an innocent to their particular gods.

It wasn’t until she caught the scent of brimstone that she moved forward. She was familiar with this particular Oracle.

Crossing the smooth stone floor, she ignored the barren surroundings that were hardly suitable for the most powerful creatures on earth.

Each of the Oracles had their own private, and usually lavish lairs, but during the battle against the Dark Lord they’d gathered together in these caves. The fact that they remained wasn’t particularly reassuring.

Reaching the back of the cave, Nefri caught sight of the tiny demon who was staring into a shallow pool of water, her three-foot body covered by a long white gown.

At a glance it would be easy to mistake her for a human child, with her heart-shaped face and silver hair that was in a long braid nearly brushing the ground. But a closer look revealed the strange oblong eyes that were a solid black. Eyes that were filled with an ancient knowledge.

Oh, and then there were the sharp, pointed teeth.

And the barely leashed power that could shatter cities.

“Siljar?” she murmured when the female continued to gaze into the water, studying some image she’d scryed.

With a wave of her hand, Siljar dismissed the image and heaved a heavy sigh. “Children today,” she complained as she turned her attention toward Nefri.

“I can return another time if you’re busy.”

“No, this is important.” Siljar pointed a finger toward the lone wooden chair. “Sit.”

Nefri obeyed without hesitation, perching on the edge of the chair and folding her hands in her lap.

“Does this have anything to do with the Dark Lord?”

Siljar shook her head. “No, that chapter is closed.”

“Thank heavens,” Nefri said in genuine relief.

Siljar held up a small hand. “Do not be overly hasty.”

Nefri’s serene expression never faltered. It rarely did. She’d had centuries of practice in hiding her emotions. To the point that many assumed she no longer possessed them.

Inside, however, a ball of dread was forming in the pit of her stomach. If new trouble was brewing there was no reason to specifically seek her assistance, unless . . .

“This has something to do with the Veil, doesn’t it?”

Siljar gave a slow dip of her head. “It has more to do with what the Veil was created to contain.”

The ball in Nefri’s stomach doubled in size. It had been nearly four centuries ago that she’d approached the Commission asking for sanctuary and been given the medallion that allowed her to lead her clan beyond the Veil.

So far as the world was concerned her only interest was creating a new home for those vampires who sought absolute peace.

Only she and the Oracles knew the truth.

Or actually, only the Oracles knew the truth, she wryly conceded.

She had a few, bare-bones facts and dire warnings. And she’d been fine with that. The less she knew, the easier it was for her to pretend that the paradise she’d created wasn’t built on a cesspit.

“I don’t understand,” she said.

Siljar paced to the ceramic pitcher set on a flat slab of rock. Pouring herself a glass of some golden liquid that smelled remarkably like Hennessy, she tossed it back like a seasoned drunk.

“It is suspected that Gaius came through the rift with the Dark Lord.”

“I heard rumors that he’d been seen during the battle, but no one could say with any certainty what happened to him,” Nefri said. “I assumed he was killed.”

“No, he was recently seen in the lair he used during his stay in this world.”

Nefri’s lips tightened. No one blamed her for Gaius’s betrayal. Well, no one but the aggravating Santiago. He, of course, assumed she was to blame for every evil in the world. The annoying ass.

But she couldn’t help but regret the fact that she hadn’t suspected there was more to Gaius’s desire to become a part of her clan beyond his pretense of grieving for his dead mate.

“Do you believe he intends to cause trouble?” she asked.

“Not the vampire.”

Nefri blinked. “Is this a puzzle?”

“A puzzle with too many pieces.”

By all the gods, why couldn’t Oracles just say what they wanted without all the mumbo jumbo?

“Why are you troubled by Gaius?” Her tone was carefully bland. “Without the power of the Dark Lord he should be easy enough to defeat.”

“Because of this.” Setting her empty glass on the flat stone, Siljar picked up a folded newspaper and handed it to Nefri.

She read the top of the front page. A small town newspaper from Louisiana? She continued to skim down to the lead headline.

“‘An outbreak of violence in southern Louisiana’?” she quoted out loud before lifting her head to meet Siljar’s piercing scrutiny. “I assume this is somehow relevant?”

“That is where Gaius is hidden.”

Nefri remained confused. “You think he’s responsible for the violence?”

“I am not entirely certain.” There was a long pause, as if Siljar was holding a silent debate with herself. Then the tiny demon squared her shoulders. “This must stay between us.”

Oh, those words were never good. Even worse, Siljar waved a hand to put up an invisible barrier so her words couldn’t be overheard despite the fact they were sitting in the most highly secure spot in the entire universe.

“As you wish.”

“I have sensed the presence of an old enemy,” Siljar confessed, her expression troubled. “It is very faint, but I . . . fear.”

“An old enemy?”

“The one the Veil was created to keep from this world.”

Nefri rose to her feet before she even knew she was moving. “But how is that possible?” she demanded in shock.

“It is my suspicion that when the Dark Lord was destroyed it left Gaius stripped bare of all his defenses. He was dangerously vulnerable.”

“Did he attempt to travel beyond the Veil?”

“No, but he still possesses the medallion.”

It’d been an unpleasant shock to everyone when it was discovered that Gaius had a medallion similar to her own. And that he’d intended to use it to break the Dark Lord out of his prison.

“Forgive me, but I still don’t understand.”

Siljar lowered her gaze to the heavy gold medallion that hung around Nefri’s neck. Scrolled with ancient spells, the medallion shimmered with a glow that had nothing to do with the torches set in the corners of the cavern.

“The ancient amulets were forged at the same time the Veil was created.” Siljar folded her hands in front of her, giving the impression of a very small history professor. “Long before you were asked to lead your people through the barrier.”

Nefri stiffened in surprise. “But . . .”

“Yes?”

“Gaius claimed his amulet was made by the Dark Lord,” she explained.

Siljar snorted. “Pompous douche.”

Nefri blinked.
Pompous douche?
Those weren’t words she expected to hear from a mighty Oracle.

“The Dark Lord?” she asked, cautiously.

“Of course.” Siljar peeled back her lips to reveal the razor sharp teeth. “The nasty creature was very skillful in destroying things, but he had no talent for creation.”

Yes, that made sense. The Dark Lord had been worshipped as a god, but never as a creator. Something she should have realized herself, she acknowledged with a pang of annoyance.

“Then how did he get it?”

“He stole it during the time we were finishing the Veil.”

Nefri’s brows lifted at the reluctant confession. Stealing from the Oracles seemed . . . suicidal. “How was that possible?”

Siljar shrugged. “We were distracted. Constructing the Veil took all our combined efforts and still we nearly failed. In fact . . .”

“In fact?”

Siljar gave a sharp shake of her head. “Nothing.”

Nefri knew damned well it wasn’t “nothing.” But she also knew that “nothing” could force Siljar to share if she didn’t want to.

“Why didn’t the Dark Lord keep it?” she instead demanded.

“The prophecy of his banishment had already been spoken,” Siljar said. “I think he hoped he would be able to reach the medallion from his prison and use it to bring an end to the dimensions between worlds. So he imbued it with his essence and hid it beyond the Veil.”

Ah. It would, of course, be the perfect hiding place. Unfortunately for the Dark Lord, it was also the most difficult to penetrate.

“So when he couldn’t reach it, he instead manipulated Gaius into stealing it for him.”

“Yes. And when the Dark Lord was destroyed the medallion was left empty, ready to be filled by another power.”

Another power.

The power that was never spoken of.

The power that scared even the Oracles.

“What can I do?”

“The simplest solution would be to question Gaius ourselves.”

Nefri held up the newspaper. “You know where he is. Why don’t you just go get him?”

Siljar shrugged. “That’s why you were called.”

Nefri frowned. “You requested I leave my people so I could travel to Louisiana and ask Gaius if his medallion has been hijacked by a strange spirit?”

“The Commission is . . . occupied with other matters at the moment.” Siljar tilted her head, looking like an inquisitive bird. “If you hurry you should be able to tend to this task within a few nights.”

Just . . . perfect.

Nefri hid her stab of annoyance. She didn’t want to be in this world. Not when she was still raw and unsettled from her last visit.

But she wasn’t idiotic enough to be fooled by Siljar’s polite pretense. This wasn’t a request.

“So you just want me to question him?”

“No. He must be brought to us. We will do the questioning.” Nefri nodded. At least she didn’t have to kill him. It was always difficult when she had to deal death to one of her clansmen.