Beware the Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  He waved aside her apology. “Why?”

  “Because I needed your help to escape from Lilah’s spell,” she admitted. Suddenly Levet recalled that he’d been standing guard over the ogress after Lilah had wrapped her in a magical web. “And because—” The ogress bit off her words, her face flushing.

  “Because?” Levet pressed her to finish.

  She gazed at him with a strange intensity, as if trying to memorize the lumps and bumps of his face.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she abruptly assured him. “Not anymore.”

  Levet snapped his wings. Was this a jest? She had befuddled his mind. He deserved answers. “It does to me.”

  She reached out to brush her fingers lightly over the top of his wing.

  “Take care, my Knight in Shining Armor.”

  She stepped back, disappearing into the portal. Levet gasped as he rushed forward.

  “Wait!” he cried.

  There was the sound of a snap as the portal closed. Levet skidded to a halt, his tail tangling around his feet.

  Sacré bleu.

  He had known his share of exasperating females. He preferred a challenge, after all. The more complicated the object of his affection, the more fascinated he became.

  But Inga…

  He was furious with her. She had abused his trust and manipulated him with magic. He expected such behavior from his family, but not an ogress who claimed to be his friend.

  But for all his anger, Levet still felt a driving urge to follow the female.

  Was it magic? Perhaps a lingering side effect from her spell? Or even a different one that Inga hadn’t bothered to remove?

  It didn’t feel like that. It was more a response that came from the center of his being. Somewhere between his chest and his gut.

  He scrunched up his nose, telling himself it must be gas. Or heartburn. Unfortunately, his stern lecture did nothing to ease the acute fear that something terrible was going to happen.

  He had to get to Inga.

  Turning to leave the cavern, Levet came to an abrupt halt as he caught a familiar scent. It was cold, and lethal. Like a snake. An angry, ill-tempered snake.

  Styx.

  The leather-clad vampire stepped into the cavern, his massive sword held in front of him. Clearly he’d sensed that someone was in the caves and had come to check out what was happening.

  Levet impatiently watched the male approach, impervious to the scowl on the vampire’s face. The Anasso was in his usual mood. Pissy. No doubt it had something to do with being the King of Leeches. Who would want such a nasty job?

  “Levet?” Styx growled, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Levet sent the male an annoyed frown. He didn’t care that Styx could rip him in two with his bare hands.

  “I need to open a portal,” he told the vampire.

  Styx came to a halt, blinking in confusion. “Why?”

  Levet glared toward the spot where Inga had disappeared. “That stupid ogress is going to get herself killed.”

  “Inga?” A cold chill blasted through the cavern. “Where is she?”

  Belatedly realizing that the vampires had every reason to want Inga dead, Levet pointed a claw in Styx’s direction.

  “She returned to the mermaid castle,” he admitted. “But you are not allowed to hurt her.”

  “I have no interest in the female.” Styx curled back his lips to reveal his fangs. “I want to know where Riven is hiding.”

  “Oh. He is at the castle as well.”

  Styx nodded, as if he’d already suspected where the merman was lurking. “Did you see Tarak there?”

  “At the castle?” Levet studied Styx in confusion. Why would the male assume the vampire was with the mer-folk when his scent was scattered around the cavern? He sniffed the air. “He’s here. Can’t you smell him?”

  Styx shook his head. “He moved through these caves after he escaped from his prison.”

  “Non. This is more recent.”

  “I think I would know…” Styx cut off his angry words as he caught the scent that was rapidly fading. His jaw tightened with annoyance. “Damn. You’re right. Can you follow his trail?”

  Levet flicked his tail with impatience. He didn’t care about Tarak. All he wanted was to find someone who could help him find Inga. Unfortunately, he’d had enough dealings with the Anasso to know the male would use his physical superiority to force Levet to obey his commands.

  Leeches were such a pain in the derrière.

  Closing his eyes, Levet concentrated on the smells that threaded through the air. There were few demons who possessed his own heightened senses. It was usually a blessing. At the moment, it was a curse.

  Bending low, he at last pinpointed the exact location of Tarak.

  Levet opened his eyes and pointed at the ground near the altar. “He entered through a portal and left through a portal.”

  Styx growled with frustration. “A portal to where?” he demanded. “To the castle?”

  “It is impossible to know.” With a shrug Levet turned away. He had more important matters to attend to.

  But before he could take a step to head out of the cavern, the stupid leech grabbed him by the horn and lifted him off his feet.

  Why were demons forever doing that? It was rude.

  “Not impossible,” Styx informed him.

  Levet flapped his wings. “Release me.”

  Styx hauled him up high enough that they were eye to eye. “Go back to the fighting pits your ogress destroyed,” he commanded.

  A pang of betrayal stabbed Levet’s heart. “She’s not my ogress,” he protested. “At least not anymore.”

  “Shut up and listen,” Styx snapped.

  Levet wrinkled his snout, refusing to be intimidated. “You are not the bossy pants of me.”

  Styx muttered something about an ugly gargoyle head being mounted on his wall. Levet dismissed his words. The vampire couldn’t be talking about him. His face was exquisite.

  “I need you to get Troy and bring him here,” Styx finally commanded.

  About to inform the vampire that he had his own problems to solve, Levet swallowed the words.

  “Troy?” he instead demanded. He’d met the flamboyant imp in Chicago. They weren’t besties, but they’d formed a bond of mutual dislike for the vampires. Troy would no doubt be willing to open the portal he needed. “Why is he at the pits?” Levet demanded. “Is he going to fight? I do not have time now to make a bet, but—”

  Styx waved his big sword. “Just go.”

  Levet stomped toward the arched opening across the cavern.

  “There is no need to snap at me,” he muttered. “I am having a very bad day.”

  “It’s going to get a lot worse if you don’t move your chunky ass,” Styx called after him.

  Outrage jolted through Levet as he continued out of the caves. “Chunky?” Stomp, stomp, stomp. He headed up the nearby staircase. “It is a fine derrière. An exquisite derrière.” He exited the caves and stepped into a lush garden bathed in silver moonlight. “Stupid leech.”

  * * * *

  Riven stood on the dais, glancing around at the sea of mer-folk that filled the throne room. Unlike earlier, the faces turned in his direction weren’t filled with curiosity. Instead he could sense a rising irritation. As if they were annoyed to be commanded to attend the gathering.

  Thankless creatures.

  The previous king had been far too casual. He’d allowed his people to treat him with an intimacy that Riven detested. He didn’t want the mer-folk to like him. He wanted them to obey. Immediately and without question.

  Pursing his lips, he turned his head to regard the male standing at his side. “Is everyone here?” he demanded.

  Rimm’s nod was stiff, as if h
e was having a difficult time bending his neck.

  “I believe so, sire. Except those who are on duty.”

  “What duty could be more important than hearing my announcement?” Riven snapped.

  Rimm furrowed his brow, as if baffled by the question. “The cooks who are preparing for the banquet you commanded to be served tonight and the musicians who are arranging the ballroom for the entertainment.” He nodded toward the two guards standing next to the wide doors. “And of course, the guards who are at their posts.”

  “Fine.” Riven waved his hand in a shooing motion. “Move away from the dais.”

  Rimm sent him a startled frown. “Are you sure?”

  Riven considered zapping the male with his Tryshu. It might ensure that the captain of his guards understood exactly who was giving the orders around here.

  “I wouldn’t have said it if I wasn’t.” He pointed toward the crowd who were attired in silken gowns and carrying delicate fans. Not one of them had ever touched a weapon. “Do I look like I’m in any danger?”

  “No, but—”

  “Move.”

  Riven could hear Rimm’s teeth grinding together as he offered a deep bow. “As you wish.”

  Waiting until the guard had stepped down, Riven moved to the edge of the dais. He wanted to make sure he was the center of attention before he made his announcement.

  He held up a silencing hand, waiting for the low babble of conversation to halt. Even then he silently counted to a hundred before speaking.

  A flair for drama was as important to a king as any trident. Besides, he enjoyed the sensation of controlling the room with nothing more than his silence.

  That was true power.

  “My people, I know you are all anxious to discover why I’ve gathered you together,” he said in a voice that easily carried to the back.

  The crowd regarded him with varying expressions from boredom to suspicion. Riven swallowed his urge to snap at them. Soon enough they would learn to regard him with the proper respect. Perhaps he would even command them to remain on their knees when he was in the room.

  Yes, that would satisfy him.

  He pasted a smile on his face. “You will be pleased to know that I have been dedicating my thoughts to our future,” he assured the mer-folk. He allowed the smile to fade, placing his hand over his heart. “The past, I fear, has not been to our advantage.”

  There was a stirring through the room at his claim. Riven struggled to keep the anger from showing on his face.

  “I understand that the previous king was attempting to do his best to protect us,” he forced himself to concede. “But his efforts have sadly left us isolated and trapped by our fear of the future.”

  The crowd began to whisper softly to each other.

  “Who said we’re trapped?” a voice called from the back. Murmurs of agreement flowed through the crowd like a wave.

  Riven rapped the butt of the Tryshu against the marble dais.

  “From now on, we will no longer cower at the bottom of the ocean,” he assured them. “It’s time to take our place.”

  “What place?” another voice called out.

  Riven smoothed a hand down his gown, trying to take a mental note of the mer-folk who were glaring at him with petulant expressions. They would eventually be punished for their lack of faith in his greatness.

  “Ah. I’m glad you asked,” he drawled. “Together we will claim a place at the top of the demon world.” He spread his arms wide in a welcoming gesture. “But first I intend to establish my harem. I need the fortunate mermaids to line up in front of the throne so I can—”

  “Die!” a voice bellowed from the upper balcony.

  Chapter 18

  Inga hadn’t intended to create such a dramatic entrance. To be fair, she hadn’t given any thought to her entrance, dramatic or not.

  After she’d returned to the castle, she’d been consumed with a black fury.

  She’d been abused her entire life. First by the ogres who had murdered her father and tried to kill her mother. And by the slavers who’d treated her like an animal to be used and traded without any concern for her feelings.

  And most of all by Riven, who’d deceived her just so he could manipulate her into helping him.

  For so long she’d believed that she’d been unloved and unwanted. The knowledge had been a vast, howling emptiness in the center of her soul.

  And now, like the cherry on top of the very crappy sundae, she’d forever destroyed any hope that Levet would ever forgive her treachery.

  Storming down the wide corridor with her muumuu billowing around her, Inga shattered the marble floor with every angry step.

  If she’d been in her right mind she would have questioned the silence that filled the hallway. Even with the diminished population of the mer-folk, the castle should have been bustling with activity. Instead there was an echoing silence.

  But impervious to the warning signs, it wasn’t until she’d followed Riven’s scent, burst through the double doors, and stepped onto a balcony that she’d realized the halls were empty because everyone was gathered in the throne room.

  By then it was too late.

  Gritting her teeth, she leaped over the balustrade and landed heavily in the midst of the crowd. There were gasps of horror as the beautiful mer-folk fluttered out of her path. Inga ignored them. Why should she give a shit what the pretty creatures thought of her hulking form and big, bumpy features? She wasn’t here to win friends. She was here to kill the dark-haired male standing on the dais.

  Frowning, as if confused about what was happening, Riven waited for the mass of mer-folk to part. Then his eyes widened with shock.

  “You,” he breathed.

  Reaching the edge of the crowd, Inga spread her legs and planted her hands on her hips. At moments like this she appreciated her large, impressive size. No one was pushing her around.

  “Surprise, surprise,” she drawled. “You never expected to see me again, did you, Riven? Or do you prefer to be called by your human name, Sir Travail?”

  “Rimm,” Riven snapped, glancing toward the uniformed male standing a few feet away. “Kill her.”

  Inga sensed the guard slowly inch forward, no doubt worried she wasn’t alone. After all, only a lunatic would think they could battle Riven along with the entire population of mer-folk.

  She tilted her chin to an aggressive angle. “I haven’t told you why I’m here. Although you probably can guess.”

  Riven continued to glare at the soldier. “What are you waiting for?”

  The guard held up his trident, moving to stand between her and Riven as the sound of running footsteps echoed through the room. It had to be additional soldiers. Shit. She wasn’t even going to get a chance to try and kill Riven.

  She might be able to battle her way through the guards, but the mob behind her would eventually leap in to protect their king. Unless…

  Unless she could use the crowd to help her. But how?

  There was no way to make them care about her, or how she’d been betrayed. She was a big, scary intruder who they were obviously eager to kill. But they might care about their princess.

  “Do your precious mer-folk know that you have Princess Sabrina locked away?” she asked, allowing her voice to boom through the room.

  The guard who Riven had called Rimm came to a sudden halt. “What did you say?”

  “Lies,” Riven rasped.

  Hoping that Rimm wasn’t going to stab the trident in her back, Inga forced herself to turn and confront the crowd. Her heart thundered, the taste of fear in her mouth. This was worse than facing a firing squad, she silently decided as she watched the fear and loathing spread over the faces of mer-folk when they caught sight of her.

  Determinedly, she squared her shoulders and forced herself to meet their alarmed gazes.

>   “Have any of you bothered to check the nursery?” she demanded, continuing to speak in a loud, thunderous voice. “Her magic is failing.”

  There was a shocked silence followed by a low buzz of conversation. That was a good sign, right? They hadn’t immediately tried to tear her head off.

  Behind her she heard Riven muttering a string of curses. “Damn you, Rimm. Do your job.”

  A spot between Inga’s shoulders itched, as if she was preparing to feel the sharp blades of the guard’s trident slice into her flesh. When there was nothing, she continued.

  “Do you want to know why her magic is fading?” Her gaze skimmed over the pale, perfect faces that were all turned in her direction. “Because your king locked her away in a prison and now she’s dying.”

  “Shut up!” a voice raged behind her.

  Inga turned, flashing her pointed teeth at the male who was flushed with fury. “Afraid, Riven?”

  “I fear nothing,” he rasped.

  “You fear the truth,” she said with absolute confidence.

  Riven pointed his massive trident in her direction. “The only truth is that you’ve invaded our castle, ogress.”

  There was a hint of stirring among the crowd at the reminder she was an interloper. Could she convince them she was one of them?

  “Not just an ogress. The daughter of Poyson,” she announced in proud tones. “And my father was the tribal leader of the ogres.”

  Rimm made a strange noise as he ran a searching gaze over her. “Poyson’s daughter?”

  “Another lie!” Riven shouted. “This creature was sent here by the ogres to try and deceive us.”

  “Ha. Who would believe the ogres would send a lone female? If they decide to attack they will send the whole tribe along with hundreds of slaves. There’s nothing sneaky about ogres. Besides, only a fey creature could open a portal to enter the castle.” She glanced back at the crowd. “How did I get here if I’m not a mermaid?”

  Ripples of low conversations spread through the room. Were the mer-folk beginning to question whether or not their king had been deceiving them?

  Riven obviously feared they were. “Perhaps she has fey blood,” he conceded in a harsh voice. “Or more likely, we have a traitor in our midst.”