“These are new,” she said. “But there’s no magic in them.”
“Anything else?” Tarak urged her to continue her search.
She walked past the large bed carved from coral that consumed the center of the marble floor. She couldn’t bear to look at it. Not when Riven’s threat of forcing her to carry his child hung over her head like a dark cloud.
Instead she kept her gaze locked on the towering shelves that had once held her father’s massive collection of books. He’d believed that a king’s greatest weapon was knowledge. Now they were gone and in their place was a number of knives, spears, and odd artifacts.
“All of these are new as well,” she murmured.
Tarak moved to study the various objects. He reached to touch a stack of odd stick-like objects.
“These are curse wands,” he said. “They belong to Jumbee demons.”
She furrowed her brow. “I don’t recognize the species.”
“They’re a small, extremely remote tribe who live in the Caribbean.”
She moved along the shelves, giving a sad shake of her head. “I suppose Riven spoke the truth when he claimed he was a collector of rare weapons.”
“Weapons he shouldn’t possess,” Tarak said, following behind her, pointing toward a seemingly innocent silver plume. “A harpy feather. Its poison is potent enough to incapacitate a demon, and is forbidden to be owned by any creature that doesn’t happen to be a harpy. If they knew it was here, they wouldn’t be happy.”
She wasn’t surprised Riven would have something forbidden. He possessed a stubborn, childish streak that meant he would take pleasure in doing something against the rules.
Waverly halted as she caught sight of a large silver pendant laid on a satin pillow. It looked old, although it wasn’t tarnished, and was shaped like a star. Along the edges were strange hieroglyphs.
She didn’t know why, but she felt mysteriously drawn to the object.
“What’s this?”
He grabbed her arm as she reached to touch the pendant. “Wait,” he commanded.
She sent him a startled glance. “Is it poison?”
He leaned forward, as if trying to absorb the essence of the silver.
“I’m not sure,” he finally admitted.
She leaned forward as well, her nose wrinkling as she caught the pungent stench that clung to the metal.
“Ew. It smells like it’s rotting.” She pulled back, her skin crawling with disgust. “Why would Riven keep it?”
“That’s the question.” Tarak’s expression was distracted, his gaze locked on the pendant. “Do you feel any magic?”
“No. Nothing,” she told him. Why did she feel such a tug of fascination? “In fact it feels…” She shook her head, struggling to come up with the word to describe the void that seemed to pulse around the pendant.
“Dead.” He finished her sentence.
“Yes. Dead. That’s exactly how it feels. Her mouth went dry as she glanced toward Tarak. “Do you recognize it?”
There was a long silence before he finally spoke. “I am not certain, but I suspect it might have been created by a wizard.”
Waverly shuddered. “Why would it smell so bad?”
He pointed toward the pendant, careful not to touch the silver. “Do you see the engraving at the bottom?”
Holding her breath in an effort to avoid the putrid stench, Waverly forced herself to take a step forward. Then, bending down, she studied the narrow band of hieroglyphs.
“It looks human,” she said.
“Yes,” Tarak agreed. “It represents an ancient sect of magic-users.”
Waverly didn’t hide her surprise. She’d encountered hundreds of witches on the few occasions she’d traveled among the humans, but she’d never met a wizard. In fact, she’d never known any mer-folk who had crossed paths with the elusive male magic-users.
She suspected they were either a myth or they’d died out long ago.
“Why would you know anything about wizards?” she asked.
He straightened, arching away from the pendant. Did he realize what he was doing? She didn’t think so. It was more of an instinctive reaction to the artifact. “Because this sect had a particular magic that can harm even vampires.”
Again Waverly was surprised. There wasn’t much that could hurt a vampire.
“What sort of magic?”
“Necromancy.” There was a bitter edge to his voice. “They can control the dead.”
“Very good, leech,” a male voice drawled from the doorway.
Waverly spun around, already knowing that Riven would be standing there. How had he managed to sneak up on them?
Her brain was still in the process of trying to accept they’d been caught when Tarak charged forward in a blur of fury.
But it didn’t matter how fast or furious he might be. Riven had already anticipated his reaction and lifting the trident he held at his side, he pointed directly at the attacking vampire.
There was the sizzling sound as the Tryshu released its magic, then a grunt of pain as Tarak was tossed backward. Sailing through the air the vampire smashed into the wall with enough force to shatter the shelves. Then he fell to the hard floor with a crushing thump.
“Tarak.” Waverly jerkily moved to kneel at Tarak’s side. Her breath felt as if it was being squeezed from her lungs by a gigantic hand as she stared down at his unmoving body. “Please don’t be dead.”
Chapter 12
Riven strolled forward, staring at the vampire lying unconscious in the center of his private bedchamber.
A complacent satisfaction flared through him, banishing his earlier rage when he’d discovered that Waverly had sent him on a wild goose chase.
She would pay for the way she’d embarrassed him in front of his guards, not to mention the fact that she’d dared to lie to him after he’d offered her the honor of giving birth to his heir. She’d been blessed above all other mermaids and she’d thrown it back in his face.
And for what?
A nasty leech?
Stroking his hand down the smooth staff of his Tryshu, he struggled to contain his emotions.
Behind him the royal guards were crowding into the sitting room, all of them trying to get a peek at what was happening. Belatedly he realized he should have commanded them to remain in the corridor. He’d been so shocked when he’d sensed the magical alarm that he’d placed on the doors to his rooms being triggered, he’d simply reacted.
Storming through the castle, he’d headed directly for the royal chambers, indifferent to the soldiers who’d automatically followed behind him.
Now he realized he had to get rid of them. He didn’t know what the vampire and Waverly had managed to discover, but he couldn’t risk his secrets being exposed.
Pivoting, he eyed his soldiers with a grim expression. “Wait for me in the hallway.”
The captain was predictably bewildered by his command. “But—”
“Now,” Riven snapped.
Without warning, he heard the swish of Waverly’s satin gown. “Rimm, he’s deceiving you,” she called out.
The guard’s brows raised as he tried to peer over Riven’s shoulder. “Princess Waverly?”
“You must listen to me,” she urged.
“Go,” Riven snapped, pointing the Tryshu at his soldier. “Now.”
Rimm scowled, but he wasn’t stupid. The trident could kill a merman as easily as it killed other demons.
Reluctantly he lifted his hand over his head and then motioned toward the far door. As one, the guards turned and shuffled out.
Riven waited until they closed the door behind him before pivoting back to see the princess hurrying toward the vampire.
“Stop right there, Waverly,” he ordered.
She jerked to a halt, stiffly turning to face him.
“What have you done to Tarak?”
Riven tightened his fingers around the hilt of his trident. What was wrong with the bitch? She was nothing more than food for the leech, and yet she’d offered him a loyalty she’d denied him.
It was galling.
“He’ll survive,” Riven drawled, his gaze flicking toward the vampire who was lying at an awkward angle. As if he had more than one broken bone. Good. He hoped the creature was in excruciating pain. “I need him. Unfortunately.”
Waverly clenched her hands, tilting her chin in the air. At this moment she looked every inch the princess.
“Because his powers infuse the necromancy pendant you use to trick the Tryshu into accepting your touch?”
Riven’s gaze flicked toward the pendant, his lips curling into a humorless smile. “I was afraid you might have figured it out.”
“How did you?”
Riven shrugged, recalling the centuries he spent traveling from one demon species to another. He’d used his potent charm to learn everything possible of their various powers, and when his charisma didn’t work, he was willing to lie, intimidate, or simply steal the ancient artifacts.
“Trial and error. I attempted a dozen different magical amulets that had no effect,” he admitted. “Each time I reached for the Tryshu it would reject me.”
Her lips twisted with disdain. “Because you aren’t the chosen leader.”
He maintained a grim control on his temper. He refused to reveal that her words had struck a raw nerve. He should have been chosen. The fact that he wasn’t only proved that the Tryshu was a stupid way to determine who should be king.
Something he fully intended to change in the future.
“The leader should be a merman who is capable of taking destiny into his hands,” he snapped.
“By cheating.”
“By whatever means necessary,” he insisted with a smirk.
She wrapped her arms around her waist, continuing to eye him as if he was carrying the plague.
“You are a blight on the mer-folk,” she hissed.
He slammed the end of the trident against the marble floor. “The blight was your father.”
“How dare you?” her eyes shimmered like aquamarines in the light of the chandelier. “He was a glorious leader who was beloved by our people.”
His anger ran even hotter. Not only was her luminous beauty making him hard with a wasted desire, but she was right. Her father had been beloved. It didn’t matter that he’d trapped his people in this isolated castle. Or that they’d been forgotten by the rest of the world.
He had no vision of a future. He was too busy dreaming of the past.
Not Riven. He had plans. Big plans.
“Your father was a weak king who trapped us in this castle because of his own cowardly fears,” he informed his companion.
Waverly’s face flushed. She acted sweet and docile when she was in public, but he’d seen her anger. More than once.
It was a fault he intended to beat out of her.
“He protected us,” she insisted.
“He stole our place in the world.”
Her anger faltered as she studied him in confusion. She was as blind as her father.
“Our place?”
“We should be walking among the other demons, not cowering in the depths of the ocean.”
She remained confused. “You’re free to walk anywhere you want.”
He stepped toward her, flicking a glance over her slender body. The desire remained, throbbing through him with an annoying insistence. A desire that was only intensified by the bed that was only a few feet away.
Why shouldn’t he enjoy her while he could? She owed him, after all. She’d rejected him for a nasty leech. It would serve her right to discover precisely what she’d thrown away.
He took a step forward, only to halt as sanity returned.
Right now he didn’t have the luxury of indulging his desires. Not when the soldiers were standing just outside the door. Rimm had a tendency to interpret Riven’s commands in a way that suited himself. Which meant he might charge back into the room with some flimsy excuse.
Or the vampire might wake up. Not that he was scared of the leech, he hastily assured himself. Not as long as he was holding the Tryshu. But he hadn’t survived by being an idiot. He wasn’t going to risk a direct confrontation with Tarak. He wanted the powerful beast safely tucked in his prison before he woke up.
Which meant there was no time to sate his physical need. Instead he would have to content himself with proving he was destined to be far more brilliant a king than her father.
“Perhaps I should clarify,” he said in mocking tones. “We should rule the other demons.”
She looked shocked at his bold claim. “What are you talking about? Mer-folk have never enslaved other species.”
He clicked his tongue. Why were his people so narrow-minded? They needed to start thinking in grand terms. World domination.
“I’ve decided I’m no longer satisfied with being king of this small castle,” he informed her. “Why shouldn’t I be ruler of the imps or brownies or even the goblins? Once I have my heirs they can help to expand my empire.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s why you want a child.”
Riven shrugged. Did she think he had some sort of paternal urges? Ha. That was a myth that was perpetrated by females desperate to believe they had a mate who gave a damn about the offspring they were producing.
“It’s why any male wants a child,” he said.
She took a deliberate step back. “That pendant has obviously rotted your brain.”
His breath rasped through the air as his leash on his temper threatened to snap.
“It’s given me everything I dreamed of possessing.”
She took another step backward. “Where did you get it?”
He narrowed his gaze. Ah. She was playing for time. No doubt she hoped her cold-blooded lover would awaken and rescue her.
Riven didn’t mind. He wanted to show off his intelligence before he exacted his final revenge on the ungrateful mermaid. It pleased him to think she would spend the rest of eternity regretting her rejection of him.
“I had lived among the Jumbee demons,” he told her. At the time he’d been hoping their earthy magic would give him the power he needed. In the end he’d discovered their magical crystals were worthless, but they’d given him the lead he needed for his ultimate victory. “They spoke of a nearby monastery that had monks who could raise the dead from their graves.”
Horror rippled over her face. “An abomination.”
“True,” he readily agreed. “But I wasn’t interested in creating a zombie. I wanted the magic.”
“Why?”
“I’d discovered I couldn’t mask my essence with spells or portions or amulets,” he admitted, his gaze straying toward the heavy silver pendant. “But then I realized that my trouble wasn’t altering my essence, but hiding it completely. The Tryshu doesn’t reject me, because it doesn’t sense me.”
She looked more confused than impressed by his cleverness. “But you can still wield its powers?”
“Not at first. I tested in secret and realized that while I could hold it, I couldn’t force it to obey my commands.” His frustration had nearly gotten the best of him when he’d returned to the castle and grabbed the Tryshu. He’d actually been able to touch it for the first time, but his triumph was short-lived when he realized that it refused to respond to his commands. “I decided I needed more power, something that could allow me to force the Tryshu to obey me,” he explained.
She remained confused. “Why a vampire?”
He smiled. It’d been nothing less than a stroke of genius that had given him the answer to his problem.
“The pendant is meant to control the dead.” His gaze shifted to the unconsciou
s Tarak. “There’s nothing more dead than a vampire, is there?”
Riven should have known better than to expect anything but contempt from Waverly. She’d already proven she had no ambition. Still, it annoyed the hell out of him when she gave a sharp shake of her head.
“Our people will never support your desire to enslave other species,” she snapped.
As if he cared whether they supported him or not. “I sit on the throne. They will do what I tell them.”
“Not when they discover the truth.”
“A good thing they won’t ever discover the truth, eh princess?” he taunted.
She faltered, no doubt searching for some clever comeback. At last she hunched her shoulders, pretending she wasn’t utterly defeated.
“You can’t return Tarak to the prison. It’s been opened,” she reminded him.
“It’s true the witch destroyed the key,” Riven agreed, his jaws tightening at the mention of Lilah. He’d given the witch immortality, and in return she’d betrayed him. Obviously when he finally chose the female who was going to give him his heir, he would need to ensure she provided him unwavering loyalty. Or perhaps he would simply lock her in the dungeons once she’d given him the children he needed. That way he wouldn’t have to worry about her devotion to him and his aspirations. “Eventually Lilah will pay for her treachery,” he assured Waverly. “But while the key is gone, the prison remained. And now that you have betrayed me, I have no need to worry whether there is a way to open a doorway. In fact, I prefer it if there’s no means to escape.”
The smell of her fear wafted through the air. “What are you saying?”
He smiled with a fierce satisfaction. “You, my princess, will be joining your lover in his prison.”
* * * *
Waverly knew better than to fight against Riven as he opened a portal to the caves beneath the hotel where the witch lived. She had a brief moment of hope as she caught the scent of vampires. More than one. But before any could appear and rip off Riven’s head, the bastard was tossing Tarak through the prison door and shoving her in behind him.
Tarak landed heavily against the floor and she rushed forward to kneel next to him. A second later his eyes were slowly opening.
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