Beware the Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  “I can’t find her. I’ve searched everywhere,” she told him.

  “Maybe he took her away from the castle.”

  Waverly gave an emphatic shake of her head. “No, she’s in the castle.”

  “How can you be sure?” he demanded.

  “Her magic protects the nursery,” she told him, not revealing that mermaids laid eggs that had to be carefully wrapped in a protective spell that allowed them to incubate in a reservoir filled with warm ocean water. Fewer than two or three children were born in a century, making them utterly precious. They were all relieved that her older sister, Sabrina, had revealed her talent in creating the spells necessary to protect the eggs at an early age, since the previous caretaker had died during the dragon battles. “If she was gone…or dead, the children would start to fade.”

  Tarak appeared genuinely shocked by her words. “He would destroy children?”

  Waverly made a sound of deep disgust. “As I said. He has no morals.”

  “This castle can’t be that large,” he abruptly pointed out. “How can he keep your sister hidden?”

  “I’m assuming he’s wrapped the prison in the same illusion that he used for yours,” Waverly said. “And created the entrance somewhere outside the castle.”

  Tarak frowned, his lips parting to ask more questions. But before he could speak, Waverly was reaching up to press her fingers against his mouth.

  “Tarak. The guards are coming,” she whispered, catching the metallic scent of the rare armor that was given to the guards. “You have to leave.”

  Tarak tilted back his head, as if using his powers to determine how much time they had before the guards arrived in the ballroom.

  Finally, he glanced down at her. “Where are your rooms?”

  “I…” She snapped her lips together at his grim expression. He wasn’t going to leave. All she could do was hope they could sneak through the back corridors without getting caught. Pressing him away, Waverly turned to hurry toward the side of the ballroom. Her father had created a secret door for those times he wanted to disappear from a celebration without attracting attention. “This way,” she commanded.

  Chapter 6

  Riven paced the floor of his private suite. He’d claimed the royal chambers as his own, of course. He’d always known that he was destined to become a ruler. In fact, he’d wasted centuries waiting for the Tryshu to choose him. But as year after year had passed and the old, increasingly feeble king had maintained his death grip on the throne, Riven had at last decided that it was time to give fate a push.

  Leaving the underwater lair, Riven had traveled the world, searching for a means to take his rightful place as king. It had taken far longer than he’d expected, but at last he’d discovered an amulet that offered the means of claiming Tryshu.

  Still, it had taken several more decades before he could convince the Anasso to give him a vampire that he needed. It wasn’t like he could use another creature. The amulet only worked on the dead.

  Thank the goddess that the service he’d performed for the Anasso had finally paid off. Five centuries ago the ancient vampire had contacted him to say he had a clansman he was willing to sacrifice.

  After that, everything had gone as planned.

  He’d found the witches necessary to create the prison to hold the vampire, as well as Sabrina, although they had no idea he’d included her in the spell. And as an added benefit, an unexpected creature had quite literally showed up on his doorstep. The mongrel ogress, Inga, had the power to create a key that would open the prison. That stroke of luck meant he could feed the vampire, keeping his strength at a peak level.

  But now…

  Reaching up, he snatched the crown off his head and launched it across the vast room. It smashed into a delicate mirror with a satisfying crash. He’d been so eager to put the damned thing on his head. Now if felt as if it weighed a thousand pounds.

  And it was all that witch’s fault. She’d opened the door to the vampire’s prison, somehow avoiding the curse he’d placed on her. He fully intended to punish her for her audacity, but first he had to deal with the colossal disaster that was threatening to destroy him.

  Grimly managing to regain command of his composure, Riven smoothed his hands down his elegant satin robes before turning to glare at the guard who was standing next to the double golden doors.

  “Let me see if I understand, Rimm,” Riven drawled. “I gave you the task of capturing one prisoner.”

  “A vampire,” Rimm said, his tone edged with a disdain that had been increasing evident.

  The male had pledged his loyalty to Riven after he’d taken the throne, but while he offered a steadfast loyalty on the surface, Riven sensed he wasn’t impressed with his new king.

  There was nothing obvious. Rimm was too well-trained as a soldier. Just a vague hint that the male was growing more discontent with every passing day. Whether with the soldiers Riven had chosen to become his royal guard, or with Riven himself, he didn’t know.

  Whatever it was, Riven wasn’t happy about it. Despite the fact that it had been five centuries since he’d proven his destiny by gaining command of the Tryshu, there were too many mer-folk who still mourned the previous king.

  “Excuse me?”

  The guard’s jaw clenched. “Nothing.”

  Riven took a step forward. “There were four of you. And yet you failed.”

  “We had him captured.”

  Riven slammed the butt of the trident on the marble floor. A low thud echoed through the air.

  “If that was true, the vampire would be in his prison, wouldn’t he?”

  Rimm squared his shoulders as if preparing for a blow. Smart male. Riven was ready and eager to kill something.

  “As I said, we were interrupted,” he insisted.

  Riven snorted. “By a magical gargoyle who was with the ogress?”

  “Yes.”

  It’d been sheer impulse for Riven to command his guards to keep an eye out for the ogress while they hunted down the vampire. Inga was supposed to control the witch. Something she’d clearly failed to do. He couldn’t allow her to go rogue, running around and potentially revealing his secrets.

  She needed to die.

  But first…

  He had to get his hands on the vampire.

  “Was there also a unicorn?” he sneered.

  “The gargoyle’s spell disrupted the portal,” the guard insisted. “There is no way to know where the vampire ended up.”

  Riven narrowed his gaze. Idiot. “Where did you end up?”

  “Here.”

  “And it didn’t occur to you the vampire would be here as well?”

  Rimm flattened his lips, as if suppressing his urge to share his opinion of being commanded to chase down a vampire with no idea why.

  “I suppose it’s possible,” he finally muttered.

  “It’s more than possible, you bottom-feeder,” Riven snapped. “Gather every guard and search the castle from top to bottom.”

  A flush stained the guard’s face at Riven’s insult, but once again his training forced him to remain obedient.

  “Yes, my lord.” He gave a stiff bow.

  Riven waited for him to straighten. “Rimm.”

  “Yes?”

  “Find him or I’ll find a new captain of my royal guard.”

  It might not have been much of a threat if Rimm could simply walk away from his position. But captains didn’t retire. They held too many secrets. The only way out was death.

  Rimm’s expression hardened with determination. “I’ll find him.”

  * * * *

  Inga was floating in a sea of peaceful darkness. It was wonderful. In fact, she wanted to stay there. At least for a century or two.

  Unfortunately, the peace was destroyed when a sharp blow struck her cheek. Inga tried to
ignore the slap. It wasn’t truly painful. More of an annoyance. But it kept repeating over and over. Along with an urgent voice that was whispering in her ear.

  “Wake up. Wake up.”

  She wrenched her eyes open and lifted her arm in time to grasp the small hand that was about to deliver another blow.

  “Stop.”

  A familiar, lumpy face hovered over her. “Are you awake?”

  She scowled, forcing herself to a sitting position. “My eyes are open, aren’t they?”

  Levet took a reluctant step back, as if he was considering whether or not she needed another slap.

  She didn’t.

  “Oui, but my Aunt Bertha often slept with her eyes open,” he told her. “She claimed it gave her a tactical advantage, but I suspect they were glued open because she forgot to scrape the moss from her face.”

  Inga snorted, beginning to suspect the gargoyle was making up the mythical relative.

  “Your Aunt Bertha sounds like a fascinating female,” she muttered, managing to shove herself to her feet.

  “She is.” Levet blinked with an innocence she didn’t fully trust. “Indeed, she is the only one in my family that I actually miss. Perhaps one day I shall take you to Paris and introduce you.”

  Inga gave a shake of her head, then promptly groaned as pain shot through her skull. Right now she didn’t have time to waste on Aunt Bertha, or even the stupid pang of regret at the knowledge she would never be traveling to Paris with the tiny demon.

  “What happened?” she demanded, her thoughts still fuzzy.

  Levet flapped his wings. “I was attempting to save you when that stupid creature opened a portal.”

  The memory of standing next to the bog as the vampire was surrounded by armored males suddenly seared through Inga. Taking care not to jiggle her aching brain, she glanced around, discovering they were standing in a barren room with stone walls and floor. There was an unmistakable scent of salt, as well as something that might have been seaweed.

  “Oh no,” she breathed.

  “Were they mermen?” Levet demanded.

  “Yes.”

  Levet released a sigh of wonderment. “Are we in the secret mer-lair?”

  Inga glanced at him in confusion. “Mer-lair?”

  “You know.” Levet gave a wave of his hands. “Like a bat-cave.”

  “Oh. I suppose you could call it that.” Inga shrugged, concentrating on creating a portal. “We have to get out of here.”

  Levet thrust out his lower lip, looking sulky as she lifted her hand. “We just arrived. We should look around before we leave.”

  Look around? Inga shuddered at the mere thought. The last time she’d been in the castle she’d barely stepped over the threshold before the king had her cornered in his private chambers, telling her that her mother had been the one to sell her to the slave traders. And to make sure there was plenty of salt in the wound, he’d added the fact that she was a ghastly blemish on the mer-folk.

  The less time she spent in this awful place, the better.

  “Do you want to be skewered by a trident?” she asked her companion.

  “Non, but—”

  Inga interrupted Levet’s protest, her brow furrowing in confusion. “I can’t open a portal here.” Her gaze returned to the barren walls. Last time she’d been here there had been an explosion of fancy-ass decorations everywhere. “Maybe we’re in the basement?” she murmured, speaking more to herself.

  “Are there kitchens down here?” Levet demanded, patting his round belly. “I could use a snack.”

  Inga rolled her eyes. “You could always use a snack. And I doubt there is anything down here except the dungeons.”

  Inga had been joking. She had no idea if there were any dungeons in the castle, but without warning Levet touched a claw to his forehead, his thick brow furrowed.

  “Dungeons? That reminds me of something. Hmm. What is it?”

  Cursing at her stupidity, Inga pivoted on her heel and marched toward a nearby opening. The gargoyle’s mind hadn’t been as easy to wipe as most creatures and now her mention of dungeons had clearly touched one of the memories she’d tried to suppress. She had to get them out of there before he managed to completely recall what she’d done to him.

  They left the room, moving down a wide hallway in silence. There had to be a staircase somewhere, right?

  Intent on her search for an exit, as well as ensuring that there weren’t any mer-folk in the area, it took Inga a minute to realize that Levet was no longer behind her. Forcing herself to stop, she turned to discover him standing in the center of the hallway with his head tilted back.

  She gave an impatient wave of her hand. “Come on.”

  “Wait,” he whispered, sniffing the air.

  “We can eat when we get out of here,” Inga chided.

  “It’s not that,” he told her. “I smell something.”

  Inga was on instant alert. The gargoyle was small, but she’d never encountered another demon with such acute senses.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “It’s salty,” Levet promptly answered.

  Inga flexed her large hands. She wasn’t going down without a fight. Not this time. “A merman?”

  “A mermaid,” Levet corrected, sucking in a deep breath. “And the same soft breeze.”

  Inga was baffled. The air felt stuffy to her. Was there a tunnel hidden behind an illusion nearby?

  “Breeze?” she demanded. “You feel a breeze?”

  Levet shook his head. “I smell a breeze blowing over the ocean,” he said, pointing a claw in her direction. “A scent like yours.”

  He thought she smelled like an ocean breeze? Melty sensation poured through Inga before she was forcing herself to sniff as if she didn’t care. “There’s no one like me.”

  “That is true,” Levet agreed, sending her a smile. “You are unique. As I am.”

  Inga released a sharp crack of laughter. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.”

  Levet spread his wings, as if he was offering her an opportunity to admire them.

  “It is the only way,” he assured her.

  A nice thought, but Inga was well aware that anything different, even among demons, was despised by others. She hunched her shoulders at the age-old sorrow that was buried in the center of her chest.

  “We need to go,” she said in gruff tones.

  Levet looked surprised. “Should we not see who is down here?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “What if they are being held captive?”

  “I don’t care,” Inga snapped. And she didn’t. “The mer-folk detest me.”

  Levet studied her with curiosity. “Why would they detest you?”

  She forced back her angry words. Levet wasn’t trying to be a jackass. He simply didn’t react like other demons. It was both a part of his charm and the reason she occasionally wanted to choke him.

  “I’m a reminder of the violence that was inflicted on one of their most vulnerable females,” she reminded him.

  “You didn’t inflict any violence.”

  “They still blame me,” Inga insisted.

  Levet scowled, appearing outraged by her words. “Then they are stupid.”

  A tiny part of her bitterness eased. In the demon world it wasn’t unusual to blame the child for the sins of the father. Or the mother. She allowed herself to savor the knowledge that at least one creature didn’t assume she was a blight on her people.

  “I agree,” she said, her hand reaching to grab the gargoyle. She didn’t want to drag him down the hallway, but they had to go.

  At the same time, however, a soft, lilting voice whispered through the air.

  “Is there someone there? Can you hear me?”

  Levet evaded her hand, moving to lay his palm ag
ainst the wall. “That’s the female I smell,” he said in distracted tones.

  “All the more reason to get the hell out of here.”

  “Impossible.” Levet folded his arms over his chest. “I’m a KISA.”

  Inga made a sound of impatience. The tiny demon had an obsession about his supposed role as a Knight in Shining Armor.

  “So?”

  “So, it is against my code of honor to ignore a damsel in distress.”

  Inga planted her hands on her hips. “Have you considered the fact that this might be a trap?”

  Levet sucked in a shocked breath. “You would not wish me to stain my honor, would you?”

  Inga ground her teeth. She could toss the gargoyle over her shoulder and force him to come with her. Or hell, just leave him.

  Instead she heaved a harsh sigh of resignation. “Fine, but your stupid damsel in distress better not get us both killed.”

  Chapter 7

  Tarak allowed Waverly to lead him through the castle to a vast suite that was on the top floor.

  It was as lavish as he’d expected. Lots of marble on the floor as well as the fluted columns that seemed to sprout everywhere. The walls were covered by vivid paintings of tropical fish and coral reefs, and overhead was a large chandelier that spilled out a soft light. They stopped in what looked like a formal sitting room with puffy couches and chairs that were upholstered with a pale green silk, and exquisite figurines crafted out of gold and studded with precious gems.

  His lips twitched. “Nothing but the best for the princess,” he muttered.

  She halted in the center of the room, her expression defensive. “All the rooms in the castle are…”

  “Straight out of Disney?” he supplied when her words faded away. He shrugged when she sent him a startled frown at his pop culture reference. “I’ve had a lot of time to watch television.”

  She bit her lower lip, guilt rippling over her expressive face. “I’m sorry.”

  Tarak stepped forward. He told himself that he wanted to intimidate her. After all, he towered over her by at least six inches. But he couldn’t fool himself. It wasn’t the desire for a technical advantage that made him halt less than an inch from her warm, delectable body.