The crowd didn’t bother to glance at him. The gargoyle was far more fascinating as he lifted his hands in a dramatic motion.
“Oui, I can exterminate the amulet. My magic is très magnifique,” he boasted, his tail twitching. “Place it on the floor.”
“Stop the demon-spawn,” Riven roared.
Levet tilted back his head to glare at the male who was thrashing and flailing in an effort to halt the inevitable. Thankfully Tarak maintained enough power to keep him trapped.
“I am a gargoyle, not a demon-spawn,” Levet protested, then he paused, as if actually considering the insult. “Hmm. I suppose I am spawned by a demon. After all, my mother—”
“Please hurry,” Waverly interrupted, leaning down to place the amulet on the floor.
She was still bent over when the gargoyle moved to sniff her hair.
“You smell like Inga,” he said.
She froze, distracted by his words. “The ogress?” she demanded.
“Oui.” A wistful smile touched his tiny gray face. “And the Princess Sabrina.”
Waverly sucked in a sharp breath. “My sister? She’s free?”
Levet shook his head, his smile disappearing. “She’s still locked away. And worse, she is fading. That is why Inga insisted on battling the King of Mer-folk even though I warned her it was a suicide missile.”
Missile? Waverly shook her head. That was at the bottom of her list of questions. Along with why Inga would feel compelled to help Sabrina. Oh, and why they all smelled the same.
The top of the list was why the ogress was holding the powerful trident. “How did she get the Tryshu away from Riven?” she asked.
Levet glanced over his shoulder at the ogress who was pressed against the wall. “How did you get the pointy stick?”
“I just held up my hand and it came flying at me,” Inga said, her eyes darting from side to side, as if expecting an ambush. “I swear.”
Was the female lying? Waverly had assumed the ogress possessed the same sort of magical object as Riven. If she was being honest that she wasn’t using a hidden power, then the Tryshu had deliberately chosen her.
“Why?” she muttered, more to herself than Inga.
It was Levet who answered. “She is the daughter of Poyson.”
Waverly’s lips parted to deny the claim. Even knowing that Poyson had mated with an ogre didn’t prepare her for the sight of such an…an ogress-looking daughter. Surely she should have some mermaid features?
Then she caught something in Inga’s eyes. A guarded vulnerability that reminded Waverly of her aunt.
“Oh,” she breathed, not sure whether to laugh or cry. “All the times I would catch sight of you in the cavern, and I never once suspected we could be related.”
They shared a glance of regret that was interrupted by Riven, who refused to accept defeat.
“She’s an ogre whore,” he snarled. “Kill her before she ruins everything.”
Levet’s wings snapped, as if he was personally angered by Riven’s insult. “It might be best if you move,” he suggested to Waverly. “My magic can be a teensy bit unpredictable.”
Waverly hadn’t forgotten Styx’s warning about the gargoyle. Without arguing she backed away, giving the creature plenty of room. Then, barely daring to breathe, she watched as the gargoyle held his hand over the amulet.
Seconds ticked past. And past. And past. Had the gargoyle been mistaken? Waverly clenched her teeth. The thought was unbearable. Everything depended on the tiny demon.
If he couldn’t destroy the amulet, then—
Any fear that Levet was too tiny to do the job was abruptly seared away as a ball of fire surrounded the amulet. It pulsed with a brilliant light, expanding until it filled the center of the marble floor. Waverly lifted her hand, narrowing her eyes as the blinding glow washed over her.
What was the gargoyle doing? She couldn’t see the amulet through the magic, but she sensed the tingle of power in the air. Something was happening.
Something big.
She tried to prepare herself, but it wasn’t enough as the magical sphere burst with the force of an erupting volcano. She tumbled to her knees, her hair singed by the explosion.
She felt bruised from head to toe, but she was pretty sure the amulet was destroyed.
Along with half the throne room.
* * * *
Tarak’s knees had given out only seconds after Waverly began to weave her way through the gathered crowd, holding the amulet. Styx had silently wrapped his arm around Tarak’s shoulders to keep him upright. At the same time he held out his sword in a blatant warning to any mer-folk who might be foolish enough to attack them.
Leaning against the male, Tarak focused on maintaining his grip on Riven. A task that was increasingly difficult as the bastard drained his power at an alarming rate.
His vision narrowed as a frigid weakness swept through his body. He needed the gargoyle to destroy the amulet. Quickly.
As if on cue, a blinding light filled the room followed by an explosion that sent mer-folk scattering in alarm.
“Holy crap,” Tarak muttered. He’d thought he might feel a tingle or tug when the spell on the amulet was broken. He hadn’t expected a full-out eruption.
“I warned you that Levet is a menace,” Styx muttered. “It’s a miracle he didn’t bring the roof down on our heads.”
Tarak blocked out the shrieks of fear from the crowd. He was busy looking for Waverly. Once he spotted her standing near the large ogress he waited for her to give him a nod, revealing that she was okay. Then he smiled with anticipation.
The gargoyle’s dramatic explosion of magic had broken Riven’s ability to draw on Tarak’s powers. Of course, it’d also interrupted Tarak’s hold on the merman, but Tarak wasn’t worried.
He liked chasing his prey.
Pulling away from Styx, Tarak headed toward the edge of the room. He wanted to avoid the ruckus as the crowd fled for the exits. Plus he didn’t want to attract the attention of the guards. He doubted any of them possessed any loyalty toward the former king, especially now that Riven had been exposed as a fraud. But there was no point in taking unnecessary risks. Not when he was so close to getting his fangs into Riven.
Circling the room, he caught the movement of the wall directly behind the throne.
A hidden panel.
No doubt it’d been created by Waverly’s father, who was obsessed with protecting his family. Now, however, it was being used by a spineless coward who thought he could escape justice.
Tarak was about to prove him wrong.
Leaping over the dais, Tarak ran his fingers over the wall until he sensed the tunnel on the other side. He didn’t bother to try and find a latch that would open the door. Instead he lifted his foot and kicked a hole through the brilliant fresco. He grimaced. Waverly would no doubt nag him about ruining the priceless work of art, but she’d be a lot more upset if he allowed Riven to escape.
He continued to kick through the wall, creating a hole large enough to crawl through. As he’d expected, he found a narrow tunnel that was lit by the strange glowing orbs he’d seen throughout the castle.
Tarak rushed forward, not bothering to worry about whether or not he might be running into a trap. As soon as Riven realized he was being followed, the bastard would create a portal and disappear.
He followed Riven’s scent, rounding a corner to discover an opening in the tunnel. Stepping through the narrow doorway, he blinked in surprise. He was back in the royal chambers.
His fangs lengthened as his gaze caught sight of Riven cramming large gems into the pockets of his robe. Clearly the merman wasn’t going to flee without pillaging at least a few of the mer-folk treasures.
Moving with the silence only a vampire could achieve, Tarak crossed the marble floor. He’d nearly reached the merman when the male b
elatedly sensed he was no longer alone. Turning his head, Riven squawked in terror, his hand lifting to create a portal.
Tarak swiftly wrapped his fingers around the male’s throat and lifted him off the ground.
“I suspected you would try to scuttle away. Like the worthless cockroach you are,” he drawled.
Riven made a strangled sound, grabbing at Tarak’s hand in a futile effort to pry away his fingers. “Release me.”
Tarak tightened his grip. “Don’t worry. This won’t take long.”
The merman’s eyes widened. Could he see his death written on Tarak’s face?
He hoped so.
“Wait,” the merman gasped.
Tarak smiled, revealing his fully extended fangs. Just a fun reminder of how he was about to die.
“Ah. Is this the pleading-for-your-life portion of our encounter?” Tarak mocked.
Riven licked his lips, sweat dripping down his face. “I can get you anything you want,” he assured Tarak. “Treasure. Power. Females.”
Tarak laughed. “You aren’t stupid enough to think you can bargain with me?”
Riven struggled to speak as his face turned an interesting shade of magenta. “Just name your price.”
Tarak shook his head. “You truly are a pathetic creature.”
“Tell me what you want,” Riven pleaded.
“Simple.” Tarak lowered the male. “I want you dead.”
The male’s lips parted to continue his begging, but Tarak was done. He’d waited so long for this moment. He’d even fantasized the thousands of ways he could kill the merman. Slowly, brutally, and as painfully as possible. But now that he held him in his hands, he just wanted to be done with him.
Yanking him close, Tarak widened his mouth and struck. Riven screamed, his body jerking as Tarak’s fangs bit deep into his flesh.
Tarak drank deeply, his strength returning as the male’s blood filled his body. He might hate Riven with every fiber of his being, but he possessed a potent fey essence. It was like high-octane fuel.
The smell of salt and pure terror swirled through the air as Riven’s struggles started to fade.
In the end it took less than five minutes to drain the male completely. Then, tossing him on the floor, Tarak moved toward the powerful weapons that lined the walls. He dismissed the magical artifacts. He couldn’t wield them even if he knew what they did. At last he grabbed one of the spears Riven had stolen from the Jumbee demons.
He returned to stand over Riven’s body, surprised to discover his lack of joy at the sight of his pale, lifeless face. He’d already shut the door on the past. Now all that mattered was Waverly and their future together.
Still, he couldn’t leave without ensuring that Riven was dead. If the male escaped he would spend the rest of eternity plotting to regain control over the mer-folk. Not to mention being a threat to Waverly.
Lifting the weapon high over his head, Tarak thrust it down with enough force to impale Riven on the marble floor. The spearhead pierced the merman’s heart, releasing its dark magic.
Tarak grimaced, yanking his hands off the shaft as a shadow spread over Riven. The black fog wasn’t just crawling over the merman, it was turning his flesh to dust.
Assured that Riven was well and truly dead, Tarak headed out of the royal chamber.
He had a mate and a deserted island waiting for him.
Chapter 21
Inga watched in horror as the crowd that had been fleeing from Levet’s massive explosion now turned to regard her with a wary suspicion.
She wasn’t sure where Riven had gone after the amulet had been destroyed, but she’d caught a blur of motion out of the corner of her eye. She assumed the vampire was busy dealing with the former King of the Mer-folk. That was fine with her. She didn’t care who struck the killing blow as long as Riven ended up dead.
Now she just wanted to get out of the castle before the mer-folk decided she should be in the dungeons.
Or worse.
With a jerky motion she threw away the trident. The last thing she wanted was for the crowd to think she was trying to threaten them. But the weapon had barely left her hand when it was flying back at her with a terrifying speed. Instinctively she grabbed the shaft before the stupid thing could skewer her.
Shock rippled through the gathering as the mer-folk pointed toward her, whispering to each other in low voices. Inga desperately glanced around, discovering the pretty mermaid standing just a few feet away.
Princess Waverly. Yes, that was her name. She was some sort of cousin. Plus, she didn’t seem quite so eager to want Inga dead.
A bonus.
Inga held out the weapon. “Here,” she said in strained tones. “You take it.”
Waverly took a step back, shaking her head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s chosen you,” she said.
Inga ground her pointy teeth together. Was it Let’s Be Cryptic Day in the mermaid castle? “Chosen me for what?”
Waverly raised her brows, as if baffled by the question. “To be the leader of the mer-folk.”
Inga’s mouth went dry. Drier than the Sahara Desert.
Leader of the mer-folk? Did she mean…
No. Inga shook her head. Obviously this was some cruel prank. She hunched her shoulders. She was used to people mocking her, but it still hurt to think her own relative would try to make her look like a fool.
“This isn’t the time for jokes,” she snapped.
Waverly tilted her head to the side, her golden hair spilling over her shoulder.
“It’s not a joke, Inga,” she said, her voice gentle. “The mer-folk have allowed the Tryshu to reveal our leader since the beginning of time.”
Inga blinked. Then blinked again. She was being serious. The realization did nothing to ease the hard ball of unease in the pit of her stomach.
In fact, it only made it worse.
She glanced down at the heavy trident, giving it an experimental shake. “Obviously, it’s broken.”
Waverly frowned. “It appears to be undamaged.”
Inga stomped her foot in frustration, indifferent to the fact her large foot was smashing the marble floor. There was already a big hole in the middle of the room. What did a few more cracks matter?
“Then how do you explain Riven?” she demanded. “This thing clearly doesn’t know what it’s doing if it picked that lunatic to be your leader.”
Waverly was shaking her head before Inga finished. “No, he used the powers of the amulet to gain control of the weapon,” she said. “The necromancer magic gave him the ability to touch the Tryshu and he tapped into Tarak’s power to use the weapon’s magic.”
Inga didn’t completely understand how Riven had cheated, but she didn’t argue. The nasty merman was willing to sink to any level to get what he wanted. She’d learned that painful lesson.
Still, there had to be something wrong with the Tryshu.
“What about me?” she pressed. “I can’t be the leader.”
“Why not?” Waverly asked.
Inga floundered. Such a simple question, but the answer was as vast as the universe.
Unfortunately, she didn’t have the words to express just how wrong it was that she would be the leader of anyone, let alone the mer-folk.
Finally, she spread her arms wide. “Look at me.”
Waverly shrugged, as if she wasn’t at all put off by the sight of Inga’s lumpish features.
“You’re Poyson’s daughter.”
“And the daughter of a tribal leader of the ogres,” a small voice said from beside her.
She turned her head to discover Levet standing there, his expression impossible to read. Her heart squeezed with a combination of joy, regret and a wistful yearning for what she would never have.
He’d follow
ed her. Even after she’d revealed that she’d stolen his memories and manipulated him into helping her. But she wasn’t stupid enough to believe it was because he cared. Levet would risk his life to try and save any female he thought was in danger.
“Royal blood from both your mother and father,” Waverly murmured. “You were clearly born to sit on the throne.”
The mermaid’s words had Inga swiveling her head back around to meet Waverly’s steady gaze. “I never asked for this,” she insisted. “I can’t.”
“You must.” Yet another voice intruded into the conversation. There was a flutter of movement among the crowd of onlookers to reveal a slender female who was approaching with determined steps.
Inga easily recognized the deep blue eyes and golden hair with hints of blue, although she was looking far healthier than the last time she’d seen her.
“Sabrina!” Waverly exclaimed, rushing to wrap her arms around the female.
“Sister,” Princess Sabrina choked out, both of them laughing and crying at the same time.
“Blessed goddess,” Waverly finally managed to say, pulling back to regard her sister with tear-filled eyes. “I searched for you for five hundred years. I swear I never gave up hope.”
Sabrina lifted a hand to touch Waverly’s cheek. “I know.”
Inga felt a familiar stab of envy as she watched the sisters. The love between them was tangible. She would give anything to have someone care about her like that.
“Riven,” Waverly started to say, only to be halted when Sabrina pressed her fingers to her sister’s lips.
“Shh. We will have time later to discuss the previous king,” she said, a strange smile touching her lips as she moved her fingers to touch the crimson tattoo that ran along the inside of Waverly’s arm. “As well as this.” Waverly blushed, but before she could speak, Sabrina was nodding toward the mer-folk who were gathering closer and closer, as if seeking the comfort of the two princesses. “For now we must concentrate on calming our people,” Sabrina said.
Waverly nodded. “Yes.”
Inga found herself as susceptible to Sabrina’s serene presence as the others. This was a female who was clearly destined to be a queen.
Beware the Darkness Page 22