When Darkness Ends (27 page)

That hope was brought to a brutal end as she felt a pair of iron shackles being snapped around her wrists.

Crap.

Iron was one thing that affected fey.

It not only dampened their magic, but it made it impossible for them to create a portal. And, with prolonged contact, it could even kill them.

Thankfully, as a Chatri, the effects were limited on her, but it would definitely make it more difficult to escape.

Because things just aren't challenging enough,
she wryly acknowledged.

She swallowed her groan of pain as the iron seared her skin, a heavy sense of lethargy spreading through her body. In the distance she heard the female demon leaving the cave, but instead of joining her, the druid contrarily crossed to stand next to her.

Dammit.

The scent of smoke and blood and foulness nearly gagged her as she felt the tip of a boot nudge her shoulder.

“Very convincing, my sweet.” The voice was cultured with just a hint of an Irish brogue. “But I know you're awake.”

Snapping her eyes open, Fallon shoved herself into a seated position. If helpless didn't work, then maybe she could try intimidation.

She tilted back her head, studying the man who hovered over her.

Surprise flared through her.

This was the deadly enemy who threatened to destroy the demon world?

He looked like a . . . nobody.

Just another human with a round face and fringe of brown hair.

Of course, she knew as well as anyone that appearances could be deceptive.

You didn't have to be a hulking warrior to wield enormous power.

Just look at Siljar.

Shaking off her sense of disbelief, she forced herself to meet his cold gaze as she assumed her best princess manner.

“Release me,” she ordered, her voice ringing through the small cave as she took a swift, covert glance around the barren cave.

There wasn't much to see except for the small altar in the center of the floor, but it was enough to make her heart clench with fear.

On top of the altar a fire was burning with a strange blue light.

Magic.

He was in the middle of casting his spell.

“A true Chatri,” the druid murmured, crouching down as he studied her with a mocking curiosity. Like she was some bug he'd captured and pinned to the wall. Sicko. “I was beginning to think you were a myth.”

She forced a cold smile to her lips. “There will be no mistake we are real when my father arrives.”

“Why should I fear your father?”

“He's the King of Chatri.”

“Ah.” A shockingly intense hatred flared in his eyes. “So you're a royal.”

Pure menace crawled over Fallon's skin. This man not only wanted her dead. He wanted her to suffer.

She squashed the urge to panic. Cyn was depending on her.

Hell, the entire demon world was depending on her.

This was her chance to do that big, important thing she'd always dreamed of doing, she desperately told herself. The opportunity to make her life matter.

Right?

All she needed to do was to keep him distracted for a few minutes so she could gather her power.

“My father will kill you,” she said, scooting until her back was pressed against the wall and her hands draped to the side of her body to hide them from the creepy druid.

A human shouldn't be able to see the glow of her powers, but he was clearly more than just another mortal.

“Demons are no match for me,” he boasted, thankfully too bloated with his own sense of self-importance to wonder at Fallon's distraction. “Especially not that bastard Sariel. I hope he does come. I would dearly love to watch him die.”

Fallon barely listened to the idiot's claims, instead focusing on her magic.

Usually it bubbled through her like vintage champagne. An intoxicating promise that she could tap into whenever necessary. Now it ran through her veins with a sluggish, growingly painful lethargy.

Damn.

There was no way she was going to be able to focus enough power to send a blast toward the druid.

To hurt him, she would actually need to touch him.

“You're mad,” she muttered, her mind racing. She had to get him closer.

But how?

“The madness belongs to my forefathers,” he was saying, tiny spots of spittle spraying from his lips. “That's the only excuse for them to have sold out the human race to a bunch of filthy fey.”

She hid her urge to shudder. What a pathetic, disgusting excuse for a human being.

“Why do you hate demons?”

“They have invaded our world, preying on us like we're nothing more than mindless cattle,” he snarled.

Fallon continued to concentrate her power into her hands, silently cursing the iron that was searing into her flesh. Not only was the pain distracting, but it was making it almost impossible to gather enough magic to cause real damage.

“Why do you call it
your
world?” she asked, her voice laced with disdain. Maybe if she could make him angry enough he would be compelled to grab her. Like any petty bully he no doubt resorted to physical violence when he couldn't mentally intimidate his opponent. “Demons were here long before humans began to walk upright.”

He sniffed, waving aside the truth of her accusation. “And now the time has come to claim it for our own.”

Her lips twisted. “So you're doing this for humans?”

“Naturally.”

“And you have no interest in becoming some sort of messiah for your people?” she demanded.

A smug smile curved his lips as he tried to pretend a false modesty.

“The humans will need a leader and I'm not opposed to being worshiped.”

Oh . . . bleck.

Her hands warmed, a golden glow beginning to surround them. She pressed them beneath her leg.

“Have you considered what will happen once the demons are dead?”

He leaned forward, slowly enunciating his words. “Every. Day.”

He was close. So close. But still too far.

She flicked a dismissive glance down his pudgy form that was swathed in a rough, brown robe.

“Without demons your magic will die,” she taunted. “Do you think you'll be worshiped if you're just another human in a silly costume?”

“I have enough potions in storage to last for several centuries.” Without warning the feral hatred transformed into something even worse. Lust. Ew. She struggled not to cringe at the hot gaze that lowered to the swell of her breasts. “In fact, I have enough that I might be willing to share with a female who was willing to please me.”

She flattened her lips, biting back her words of revulsion. If she couldn't get him to touch in anger, then she'd settle for a horny grope.

“Really?” She tilted her head, allowing her hair to slide over one shoulder.

He licked his lips. “How long do you think you'll last once the portals are closed?”

She shrugged, glancing beneath her lashes. It's what her older sister, Dellicia, used to do and it always seemed to make the males take notice of her.

“A few weeks, perhaps months,” she murmured, dropping her voice until it was a husky whisper.

His gaze remained attached to her breasts. Had he never seen a pair before?

“I could prolong your life . . . at least for a while,” he said, his arrogance great enough that he assumed she would be willing to trade her body for a few measly days of life.

“If I pleased you,” she murmured.

He inched closer, his foul smell making her shudder. “You're a very beautiful female.”

“Do you think so?” Her hands burned against the side of her leg, the magic ready to destroy the bastard just as soon as he got close enough. “I'm a demon.”

“My father seemed happy enough to bang a fey.” An ugly expression hardened his features. “In my mother's bed. Maybe I should see what the fuss is about.”

Was that why he hated demons?

His father had a fey lover?

Ridiculous.

“What would you demand of me?” she forced herself to ask.

“Nothing too painful.” His gaze moved to her unmarred neck, perhaps seeking signs of Cyn's feedings. Fallon felt her gut twist, wishing her neck did carry the mark of Cyn's fangs. “Although a princess who chooses to take a vampire lover must enjoy it rough and dirty.”

“Sometimes.” A secret smile curved her lips as she recalled her berserker's tenderness. It still amazed her that a warrior so large and fierce could touch her as if she were some fragile treasure. “Of course, I do like a man who can be . . .” She struggled for a provocative word. Dammit, why wouldn't he touch her already? “Inventive. You'll need to show me what you like.”

He sucked in a slow, shaky breath, his rounded cheeks flushed with his rising lust.

“You are a tempting witch.”

“Not witch . . . Chatri.” She touched the tip of her tongue to her lower lip. “Touch me.”

His brows drew together, his hands curling into tight fists as if barely resisting the urge to give into her soft command.

“Why?” he rasped.

She arched her back. “I want to feel your hands on my body.”

He hesitated, his breath rasping between his teeth. “I suppose you also want me to remove your cuffs?”

“Not yet.” She rattled the chains while managing to keep her hands hidden. “I think we could have fun like this. Don't you?”

“Ah.” He shuddered, clearly excited by the thought of keeping her shackled while he . . . well, whatever the hell he was fantasizing doing to her. Creep. “I knew that your sense of self-preservation would encourage you to play nice.”

“Come here and let me show you just how nice I can play,” she urged.

For a breathless moment he swayed forward, his hand lifting to touch her cheek. Fallon tensed, her muscles coiled to lunge forward the second he came within touching distance.

Then, as if he were deliberately trying to torture her, he was surging to his feet and shaking a pudgy finger at her.

“Naughty fey. First comes the spell,” he muttered, turning to head back to the altar. “And then the pleasure.”

Shit.

For once, the always confident—some might say arrogant—Prince Magnus wavered.

A part of him wanted to demand that Tonya form a portal and return to Styx's lair.

She still looked far too pale, and there were several small wounds that had yet to heal on her arms and legs. She needed a warm bath, a soft bed, and plenty of nectar to finish healing.

But a much larger part of him selfishly wanted her near.

If he wasn't keeping an eye on her, how could he be certain she wasn't in danger? Or that she was taking proper care of herself.

It was at last the impatient sound from the waiting gargoyle that made up his mind.

He'd nearly lost her.

There was no way in hell he was going to let her out of his sight.

Reaching out, he firmly gripped her hand, pulling her with him as he followed the gargoyle through the narrow opening between the standing stones.

There was a cool brush of power as they stepped through a magical barrier, then, without warning, there was the unmistakable stench of death.

Instantly he was shoving Tonya behind him as he swiftly surveyed their surroundings.

The inner sanctum was larger than he'd expected, with a stone altar set in the middle of a floor that had been worn smooth over the centuries. Along the edges were several small tables that held piles of dried herbs and spices as well as bottles of potions. There were no visible weapons, but he caught the unmistakable scent of gunpowder, which meant there was at least one firearm in the vicinity.

It was the three druids, however, that captured his attention.

They were currently crouched near the altar where a corpse was sprawled on the hard floor.

Even from a distance, Magnus could tell the dead man had been one of the druids. Not only did he wear a similar robe, but the smell of magic clung to his body.

He wrinkled his nose as his gaze took in the deep slash across the front of his throat.

“Was this the druid who trapped us?” he demanded.

The chosen speaker gave a shake of his head as he straightened to face Magnus.

“No, this was our brother.” A deep sorrow was threaded through his voice. “Anthony has used him as a sacrifice.”

Magnus arched a startled brow. Humans were often violent toward one another, but to choose one of your own brothers as a sacrifice . . .

That took a whole new level of evil.

“Why would he sacrifice him?”

The man pointed toward the flames on top of the altar that flickered with a blue glow.

“The spell has started.”

Magnus unconsciously tightened his grip on Tonya's fingers, drawing her close to his side as he scowled at the elderly druid.

“Tell me what it means.”

“He's cast the spell of Compulsion on the Oracles. Now they've gathered to combine their powers to complete the spell that will prevent any travel between dimensions. This world will be completely isolated.”

Shit. That's what he feared it meant.

“And the demons—”

“Will die,” the druid completed his horrifying words. “Along with all magic.”

Just a few days ago, Magnus would have shrugged his shoulders and returned to his homeland. What did the fate of this world or any other matter to him?

So long as the Chatri were safely tucked behind their layers of magic, then there was no need to put himself at risk.

Now he knew beyond a doubt he couldn't walk away.

Tonya was a part of this world. And the lesser fey who had once bowed to the Chatri.

Even the vampires . . .

No, wait. He still didn't care what happened to the vampires.

But the others . . . yes, he would do whatever was possible to protect them.

Besides, there was the nagging fear that this might eventually hurt the Chatri.

Magnus pointed toward the flames. “Stop them.”

The old man shook his head. “It's impossible.”

“Wrong answer,” Magnus snapped.

“Only Anthony can halt the spell now that it's been cast.”

“Fine, then bring me the druid.”

“He's not here.”

Of course he wasn't.

Magnus grimaced as the druids covertly stepped backward, knowing that his power was shimmering around him with a golden aura.

“Where is he?” he demanded, trying to leash his temper. It would be a shame to accidentally turn one of the druids into a pile of goo.

“With the Commission.”

“Damn,” he muttered.

“I've traveled to the caves,” Tonya abruptly said. “I can take us there.”

He sent her a frown. “No.”

“Yes.” She shot back. “My decision, not yours, prince.”

Magnus bit back the urge to argue. The one thing he knew about this female was that to try and tell her she couldn't do something was the one certain way to make sure she dug in her heels.

And, in truth, he knew that he would need her assistance.

A female as a partner. Who would ever have thought it?

“Very well.” He gave her a slow nod, his heart forgetting to beat as he was rewarded with a dazzling smile. Then he grudgingly returned his attention to the men watching him with a completely unwarranted belief that Magnus was going to be their savior. “Will killing the druid break the spell?”

“That is only the first step,” the man said.

Magnus knew it couldn't be that simple.

“What else must be done?”

“To cast the Compulsion spell that's controlling the Oracles, Anthony must have a blood sacrifice and a focus object.”

Magnus frowned. His magic came from his own powers. Human magic-users had to manipulate the power that was found in nature. Or steal it from the blood of a sacrifice.

He'd never had to understand what went into casting a spell.

“What object?”

“It can be anything.” The druid shrugged. “An amulet. A crystal. Even something personal like a piece of jewelry. It must be destroyed.”

Kill the druid and destroy a piece of jewelry. That seemed doable.

“Will it be with him?”

“Not necessarily.”

Ah. There had to be something.

“Then how do we find it?”

“It will give off a pulse of magic,” the druid answered.

Tonya made a sound of impatience. “Along with a thousand other items. The caves belong to the Oracles,” she said. “All of them will have amulets and crystals and God knows what else.”

“True.” With a frown, the old man turned to share a whispered conversation with his fellow druids. There was a brief discussion, or maybe an argument, before he swiveled around to meet Magnus's impatient glare. “My brothers and I can combine our magic to vibrate any objects that happen to be druid in the cave.”

“Vibrate?”

“Yes. The movement will give off a small hum. That should make it easier to find.”

Magnus supposed that was as good as it was going to get.

“Fine.” He glanced toward his beautiful imp. “Tonya—”

She reached up to place a finger against his lips. “We'll talk when this is over. Are you ready?”

He gave a grudging nod.

The sooner they were done, the sooner he could have this woman alone in his bed.

And he wanted that very, very much.

“Hey, wait for me,” a small voice demanded as Levet waddled forward.

“No,” Magnus growled. “No way.”

Tonya tried and failed to hide her smile. “Actually he's very good at seeing through illusions. We might need him.”

The idiotic creature stuck out his tongue. “
Oui,
I am a gargoyle of many talents.”

“Fine,” Magnus growled. “Let's just go.”

Tonya lifted her hand, waving to open the portal. Then she gave it another wave. And another.

“Oh shit,” she breathed, her eyes wide with terror. “We're too late.”

 

 

Cyn's sanity was hanging on by a thread.

Pacing the cramped cell, he searched for any weakness in the smooth stone walls before turning his attention to the iron door that refused to budge.

He grasped the handle, giving it a mighty yank. Nothing happened.

Which meant that it'd been magically connected to the stone that surrounded it.

Dammit.

Whirling on his heel, he moved to where the two vampires lay on the ground. Bending down, he grabbed one of Styx's large shoulders and allowed his power to flow from his hand into his Anasso.

Not all vampires could share power, but as a clan chief he could perform a basic healing.

“Styx,” he muttered, his fingers curling around his Anasso's arm to give him a shake. “Wake up.”

There was a low groan before Styx was reaching up to shove away Cyn's hand.

“Cyn, you are a vampire with a death wish.”

“That's the one thing I don't have,” he assured his companion, rising to his feet. “I intend to live. But to do that I need you to get your oversized carcass off the ground.”

“Oversized?” Styx went to his hands and knees, giving a shake of his head as if he were trying to clear out the cobwebs. “Isn't that the pot calling the kettle black . . . or some such shit?” With a pained moan, Styx slowly forced himself upright, studying his surroundings with a jaundiced glare. “Damn. We walked straight into a trap.”

Cyn frowned in surprise. There weren't many traps that a vampire couldn't sense.

“The druid?”

Styx grimaced. “Yes, but I didn't see him. We were entering the back of the caves, then zap . . . everything went black.” He shrugged, glancing toward the heavy door. “I'm assuming there's no way out.”

“Nothing obvious,” Cyn admitted, his gut churning with fear. Where was Fallon? Was she hurt? Was she . . . no. He clenched his fangs. He had to concentrate on getting out of the cell. It was the only way he could help his mate. “It's magically sealed, but if the three of us can combine our strength we might be able to—”

“Wait.”

The choked command came from Viper, who was rolling onto his back, muttering a foul curse as he tried to gather his strength.

Cyn leaned over him, meeting the vampire's dark gaze with a wry smile.

“Welcome back to the world of the living, Sleeping Beauty.”

“Bite me.” Viper narrowed his midnight eyes. “Where's Fallon?”

Cyn flinched at the pain that sliced through him. “Phyla has her.”

“Bitch.” With far more grace than either Cyn or Styx, Viper was on his feet, sliding his sword from the scabbard angled across his back. “Move aside,” he ordered.

Cyn frowned as he stepped out of Viper's path. “What are you doing?”

The silver-haired vampire halted directly in front of the door, placing the tip of his sword on the ground.

“We can't go through, but we can go under.”

Cyn felt the ground tremble beneath his feet, belatedly realizing what his friend intended to do.

As predators, vampires had developed the skill to hide their dinner after a feeding. The humans, after all, were smart enough to ask questions if bodies began to litter the streets. But while most could only use their powers to loosen the soil so it made it easier to bury the dead, there were a rare few that could actually cause enough shift in the earth to collapse large buildings.

Sheathing his own sword, Cyn dropped to his knees at the same time as Styx, using his hands to dig out the large rocks that cracked beneath the pressure of Viper's power.

Dust began to fill the air as they scooped out the earth beneath the doorway, chucking the large rocks to the back of the cell. There was a tense moment as a long crack suddenly appeared in the side of the cavern, warning that the entire cavern was being affected by Viper's tiny earthquakes, but the pace never slowed.

A cave-in would be a pain in the ass, but it wouldn't kill them.

Pulling out one last rock, Styx lay flat on his stomach and began to shove his large body through the hole. There were several curses and the scent of blood as the king scraped off several layers of skin, but eventually he was through the opening.

Cyn was quick to follow, clawing his way under the door and into the narrow tunnel.

With one shove of his hands he was on his feet and headed down the tunnel. He heard Styx call out, but he didn't slow.

He could sense Fallon above them.

Nothing was keeping him from finding her.

Twice he was forced to double back, before he at last reached a pair of stairs that had been carved into the side of the tunnel wall.

He turned to gesture for Styx and Viper to stay behind him. Fallon was near, but so was the druid.

No one was killing that bastard but him.

Cautiously climbing the stairs, Cyn was prepared as a bolt of fire was shot in his direction. With inhuman speed he dodged the lethal bolt, leaping behind a large stalagmite to survey the small cave.

There wasn't much to see.

The druid who was dressed in a plain brown robe. An altar where a fire was burning with an odd, blue flame. And Fallon, who was seated at an awkward angle and shackled to the wall.

The bastard had chained his beautiful princess as if she was some sort of animal.

“How did you get loose, vampire?” the druid rasped, the edge of fear unmistakable despite his belligerent tone.

“Afraid, druid?” he baited, reaching out with his senses to search for hidden dangers.

This was no time to rush into a trap.