Blood Deep (37 page)

His silvery blue eyes held hers. “Yes, I believe I would. The grief would tear me apart.” He turned to Zayan. “I can imagine the rage. The need to destroy.”

“When I transformed your brother,” Zayan said softly, “it BLOOD DEEP / 303

was my intention to save him. I cared deeply for him. I could not just watch him die.”

Miranda faced Serena, Drake, and Jonathon. “I wish to help Lukos. He was sent to be the devil’s apprentice, forced to sacrifice himself to protect his people.” She had recounted to them all the story Lukos had told her of his past. “Can you imagine the guilt, pain, and anger he felt to learn his sister had been taken a prisoner to ensure his obedience?”

Both men solemnly nodded.

“If you, dear niece, have fallen in love with him without bewitchment, there must be something of value to him.” Eugenia stepped toward Zayan. She held out her hand to Marc. “We will take care of your children, Zayan. I, for one, am willing to begin again.”

18

Underworld

Moonlight washed the stretch of quiet, empty field. Snow swirled around the large, dark mound of earth that was Westwarden Barrow. And within it was one of the few magical entrances to the labyrinth that led to the Underworld.

With her goal in her sights, Miranda lengthened her strides, until she was almost running across the uneven field, holding her sable-lined velvet cloak tightly at her throat, trying not to stumble.

Zayan grasped her wrist and pulled her back with such force, she fell against him. He stopped dead. “Wait, Miranda,”

he cautioned. Maelstroms of snow spun at his face, but his silver eyes fixed harshly on her. “I sense he was here, but I am not letting you rush into the Underworld to save Lukos from himself. You will wait out here while I go within.”

“I would have thought you knew me better by now, Zayan.”

Miranda pulled her hand free of his grasp and sped up her pace.

“I faced the
Pravus Semper.
I might be afraid to face Lucifer, but I’m not going to cower in fear. And if it is true, that we have all bonded through a love shared between three, then I believe our best chance to defeat the devil is to be together.”

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Zayan growled, and she knew he had no argument against her logic. She appreciated his need to keep her safe, but there were some things worse than death. And she knew of one—living a lifetime of regret and sorrow for not being there to protect a loved one.

Both Zayan and Lukos had lived through an eternity of grief and regret—Zayan over his children, and Lukos for his sister, Ara.

During their voyage here, when Zayan had magically shifted her shape again and allowed her to fly, he had insisted, in her thoughts, that she should turn back. She knew he had only allowed her to come with him because she had glimpsed this place in his mind. He had tried to shutter it from her, but she believed his worry over her had weakened his mind and allowed her to see his thoughts when she had touched his chest.

She was certain he knew she would have come alone if necessary.

Ahead, the barrow looked fancifully like a slumbering dragon that had curled up on the field. Zayan had sprinted ahead of her, making it easy to find the entrance—in seconds, he stood in front of it with his arms crossed over his chest.

Shouldn’t love mean she and her men would not be adversaries again? It didn’t, though. Lukos has flown away before she could argue with him. Zayan was determined to do nothing but argue with her tonight.

Behind Zayan’s broad body, Miranda spied the narrow opening topped by a thick stone lintel in the earth-covered banks.

Fallen rocks filled part of the doorway.

“Let me pass,” she said simply.

But like the rocks piled there for a millennium, he did not move. Sighing, Miranda stepped to him, rested her hand on his crossed arms, and leaned up to kiss him. She brushed a tender peck to his firm, unyielding mouth.

“Flirtation will not weaken my resolve.” But his voice sounded BLOOD DEEP / 307

hoarse, as it had done in their shared bed when he was aroused for her. “I intend to wait until you turn around and walk back to the carriage.” He had summoned a coach from the nearest village by the will of his mind, when they had flown there.

She’d wondered why he had wanted a carriage—now she knew. It was a place to deposit her, to keep her out of the way.

“I could follow you in,” she argued.

“I’d sense you, love. Give me your word that you will not.”

She tried darting around him, but when she moved quickly, dizziness struck her and she lost her balance. She almost fell headlong on the pile of rocks in the doorway.

Zayan grabbed her arm. “Whatever your power is, you are not a witch or a demon. You give life—which, in my mind, makes you closer to a goddess. Entering the Underworld could suck the power from you. It could destroy you.”

She wished the fiercely protective gleam in his eyes did not leave her breathless. “I am dying anyway, Zayan. This is my last hope.”

But his grip tightened. “I am afraid this is a trap, Miranda.

The
Pravus
is considered the feminine form of evil. I believe she lied to Lukos to lure him here; she tempted him with the one thing that would send him stupidly back into Lucifer’s lair.

Lucifer gambled you would follow. Lucifer and the
Pravus
could be two halves of one whole. Man and woman. Combined, they represent the whole of evil in the world. I think Lucifer wants your power.”

“You think he wants to capture me?” she asked slowly. At Zayan’s curt nod, she tipped up her chin. “Then I had best go in. How else will he capture me if I don’t?”

Zayan’s jaw dropped. Her cavalier words had left him so stunned she readily slipped past him and scrambled up the rocks. At the very top of the pile, she spotted a small hole. Fortunately, she was slim and tiny. In a blink of an eye, she was inside.

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* * *

And, damnation, he had tried to stop the snow with his magic, but it had not worked. Which meant that here, so close to the Underworld, his power was drained.

Zayan ripped out a large rock from the walled-up entrance and tossed it over his shoulder. Three more quickly followed, shaking the ground as they hit. Hades, this threesome magic was not going to work. He wanted to possess Miranda for his own. He had captured entire civilizations for Rome. He had taken thousands of slaves, treasures worth a king’s ransom. He was not a man who willingly
shared.

But he had to. That was the madness of it. If he did not learn to play nice with Lukos and share, Miranda would die.

Cursing below his breath, Zayan plunged into the tunnel that led into the burial chamber of the burrow. He scented Miranda—the sweet, fresh smell of her. Here in the dark, with the snow hurtling behind him, Miranda smelled of sunshine.

Her gown swished, revealing to him she was striding somewhere in the dark ahead. In a heartbeat, he could see her—the gold of her hair, the fluttering movement of her cloak. He rushed forward with inhuman speed, caught her as she ducked low, and stepped into a stone chamber.

At least she did not try to outrun him, or even to shake him off. She looked relieved on seeing him. With a shudder, she whispered, “I glimpsed Lukos’s thoughts before. I saw what he went through to enter the Underworld. I saw what we have to face to get from here—”she swept her hand to encompass the room—“to Lucifer.”

Zayan surveyed the chamber they were in. Primitive. Large BLOOD DEEP / 309

stone blocks fashioned the walls, and long, broad flat stones had been laid across them to make a roof. Dirt had been mounded over top. Inside, there was nothing except a stone table that held a chalice and spear. There were hundreds of these burial chambers across the country. But this one was not a grave. It was an entrance.

“There is a portal,” Zayan said gently, “but mortals do not survive passing through it.” Miranda was not entirely mortal.

Did that make her safe? If Lucifer did want her, he would acquire her. For now, Zayan would play the devil’s game. He would make it appear he was allowing Miranda to go in search of her beloved Lukos. “Most mortals, though, do not possess magic.” He heard the heart-wrenching sound of Miranda swallowing. To moisten a dry, frightened throat, he suspected.

“Have you been here?” she asked.

“No.” But he had heard the tales from demons who had.

“There are tests. The very instant you cross the threshold of the labyrinth, you will believe a thousand insects are crawling on your skin. Most people rake themselves bloody tearing at them.

But they exist only in your mind. You have to remember that, Miranda.”

She gaped at him, and he could hear the rapid beat of her heart—an undercurrent to the motionless air in the tomb and the suffocating sensation of silence.

“It’s a test, love. Entering the Underworld is not as simple as rapping on the doorknocker of a London home.”

Miranda looked grim. But her lips lifted in an ironic smile, and he knew she had found courage. “I know that. I am not afraid. But I truly hate bugs.”

Zayan clasped her hand in his and led her to the most easterly side of the chamber. He quickly found the rough circle, made of stone laid in the earthen floor of the chamber. Miranda stared at it, slowly turning to examine it. Zayan crouched and touched four of the stones, one after the other—the stones that 310 /
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would make the points on a compass. Suddenly the earth dissolved beneath their feet but instead of falling, both he and Miranda lowered slowly to a chamber below. As their feet touched the rough, rocky surface beneath them, the hole above them sealed over. His vision easily detected the series of pitch-black tunnels leading off in different direction. And his demonic senses allowed him to immediately select the one they wanted.

“Welcome, Miranda, to the labyrinth,” Zayan murmured.

Something was crawling up her neck. It moved slowly, a tickle along her skin. It was driving her mad. There had to be something there. It felt so real. It even . . . slithered . . .

Miranda choked down a scream. In the darkness of the tunnel, she couldn’t see anything, not even her own hands, but her mind could not possibly play tricks like this. She had to get it off her neck—

Zayan’s hand closed around her forearm, restraining her.

“Don’t touch. Don’t scratch. Once you begin, you won’t stop.

You’ll claw at your skin until you tear through it. Until you are so desperate and mad, you gouge your eyes out.”

“It’s real,” she gasped. She knew what he had done . . . “You
lied
to me when you said it was all in my mind. You did it so I wouldn’t panic—” Something tickled her
cheek
. “This is real.

All these horrid little legs are really walking on my skin.”

Zayan’s left hand, surrounded by a faint emerald green glow, settled on her shoulder. The glow slowly washed over her body, and the revolting sensation of a million little insect feet on her flesh vanished.

She turned gratefully to Zayan, then shrieked.

He was covered in insects. These were real—awful, crawling, smelly ones. And everywhere on his body.

Casually, he blew one away from his lips, before grinning at her. In the dark, his eyes had turned an eerie blood red—the same vivid red as the
Pravus
. She reached out, intending to brush a—a large, ugly, furry spider off his back—

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He caught her hand. “Don’t,” he repeated calmly. “Once we pass far enough, they’ll vanish.”

“Aren’t they biting you?”

“Of course. I’m undead, so they can fill me with as much venom as they want.”

He was mad, utterly mad. Bugs were literally dripping off him, clinging to his cloak, vanishing into his long, thick hair, yet Zayan stormed relentlessly onward. Every inch the Roman general. Yet now, when she looked at him, Miranda saw more of the devoted father.

She cringed with her every step. Zayan waited, then grasped her hand.

Once they had soldiered onward for another yard along the rocky passage, the insects began to buzz, and the sound heightened until it was a high-pitched scream that rattled Miranda’s teeth in her head and made her ears pound. She clamped her hands to her head to block out the sound.

It grew so bad, she feared her head would burst.

Then it stopped and the bugs had vanished. The green glow faded from her body, and she felt . . . normal. Her skin no longer felt as though it were alive with insects, and the horrid, rancid smell of them was gone.

Zayan had protected her from the worst of it, and as she looked up, he gave her a slow smile.

“What’s next?” she asked.

“The succubi.”

Shuddering, Miranda remembered the vision she’d had of Lukos and the woman in this place. Zayan inclined his handsome head. “What would the devil be without an army of female slaves designed to fuck you to death?”

She caught her breath at his coarse word, and his smile—a smile that would encourage any succubus to leap upon him.

“You are enjoying this.” It was a battle—and he had lived for battle. He all but burned with excitement now. Was that who 312 /
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Zayan was at his core—a general in constant need of a war? Did it mean he could ever accept peace and happiness? Could he ever be content with love?

Miranda swallowed hard. She had to find Lukos, or she would die. Her world, for the last few days, had shrunk down to the immediate—live or die, fight or be destroyed, seek the truth or perish if she didn’t find it. She had not thought of the future.

She had an impoverished baron for a brother, and a lovely, thoroughly normal sister-in-law. But she was in love with two vampires. How could she ever think to blend those two worlds? Did loving Zayan and Lukos mean leaving her family forever? And she did not have forever. As far as she knew, she was mortal.