“I’m no one’s servant.”
“This is Rainn,” Ulric said, sending her a warning frown.
Brigette sniffed the air, curling her nose as if she’d caught a nasty scent. “Fey.” She leaned against Ulric. “Why is she here?”
“She’s my…” Ulric hesitated, as if not sure what to call Rainn. “My friend.”
“There’s no need for you to come with us,” Brigette said, waving her hand toward Rainn.
Rainn moved to stand beside Ulric, bringing the whirlwinds with her. Brigette hissed as the shards of stone smacked into her legs. Big baby. “Ulric doesn’t go anywhere without me.”
“This is pack business,” Brigette snapped. “Outsiders aren’t welcome.”
“If I don’t go, no one goes,” Rainn announced.
Brigette glanced toward Ulric. “Is she your friend or your boss?”
Ulric snorted. “I’m beginning to wonder.”
Rainn folded her arms over her chest, her gaze locked on the female Were. “You can leave if you want, but Ulric is staying with me.”
Rainn could hear Brigette grinding her teeth as she glared at Ulric. “Can’t you get rid of her?”
He shrugged. “I’ve discovered it’s easier not to argue.”
Brigette flattened her lips as she glanced toward the fog. There was a long, uncomfortable silence. Rainn frowned. What was going on? Was the female waiting for something? A sign? A visitor? Perhaps listening to a voice they couldn’t hear?
At last the female blinked and flashed Rainn a tight smile. “If you insist.”
“I do,” Rainn said.
Brigette turned, leading them through the fog that circled the abandoned village. “Follow me.”
Walking next to Ulric, Rainn tried to ignore the strange vapor that clung to her skin like a wet rag. It was giving her the heebie-jeebies. Instinctively she moved closer to Ulric, ignoring his raised brows. Yes, she’d been bossy, and yes, it’d felt good. Really good.
She didn’t like Brigette. More importantly, she didn’t trust her. That shadow was still swirling around her. Until Rainn knew exactly what it meant, she was going to assume the female was at the center of the evil she had to battle.
Plus, she was treating Ulric with a possessiveness that set Rainn’s teeth on edge.
Why?
Because…Just because.
She was going to let it go at that. No good could come from shuffling through her renegade emotions. Best to pretend they didn’t exist.
Brigette walked ahead of them, her powerful strides a silent warning to Rainn that she could turn on them at any second. At the same time, Rainn allowed her gaze to skim from side to side, searching for any movement in the murky fog.
They crossed the shattered landscape, the ground crumbling beneath their feet as if it was sawdust. Rainn might have suspected the devastation had been caused by dragon fire. There were few weapons more cataclysmic. She’d seen entire mountains melted beneath the intense heat. But this wasn’t the same. The ground wasn’t scorched, it was rotting. And the narrow rivers hadn’t been boiled to dry beds. Instead the water was a brackish green as it moved sluggishly toward the nearby cliffs.
Toxic.
The word whispered through her mind.
Yes, that was it.
As if the very earth was being poisoned by some unseen force.
She shuddered. If she’d been by herself, she would have used her powers to float above the ground. Just walking over the decaying dirt made her feel like she was being contaminated. Grimly she resisted the temptation. She couldn’t risk depleting her powers. And if she was perfectly honest with herself, she would admit that she didn’t want to look weak.
Not in front of Brigette.
They continued through the strange fog until a large mound suddenly appeared before them.
It looked like the sort of burrow created by brownies. Or perhaps a loam sprite.
As they slowed, Rainn studied the dead vines that lay over the mound like a decomposing shroud. Once, it no doubt had been covered in green grass and lush flowers, but now it looked like a forgotten tomb.
Without glancing back, Brigette reached to touch the burrow. A hidden door slid open and Rainn wrinkled her nose. What was that smell?
Brimstone?
Where the hell was this female taking them?
As if sensing her burst of fear, Ulric brushed his hand down the curve of her back. Instant tingles of pleasure sizzled through her. The heat of his fingertips felt as if it was branding her skin, even through the thick material of her sweater.
The sensation banished her temporary anxiety. As if the knowledge that he was at her side gave her courage.
Perfectly normal, she hurriedly reassured herself. What creature wouldn’t feel better to know they had a lethal warrior to help in case there was trouble? It also explained why she pressed closer to Ulric as they followed Brigette through the opening and down the steep staircase dug into the dirt.
A smothering darkness closed around them the deeper they went, the gagging stench nearly overwhelming.
Rainn at last broke the oppressive silence. “It wasn’t like this when your father came down here, was it?”
“I don’t know,” Ulric admitted. “He never let anyone come in.”
Rainn struggled to see through the gloom. “I don’t like this. It feels like a trap.” The words had barely left her lips when Ulric came to an abrupt halt. She turned back to study his tense expression. “What’s wrong?”
He tilted back his head, sniffing the air. “My father.”
“What about him?”
His nostrils flared, his eyes smoldering with the power of his wolf. “I can smell him.”
“He’s here?”
“No. It’s more…” He shook his head in frustration. “An echo. As if his blood seeped into the very stone.”
Rainn wrapped her arms around her waist. The air was smothering, but she felt chilled to the bone. “I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I,” he rasped.
Chapter 6
Levet squirmed and sputtered as he was jerked through the fog and then rudely dumped onto the hard ground.
“Hey, I am a mighty warrior, not a sack of potatoes to be tossed around,” he groused.
“I just saved your ass,” a dark male voice chided. “You should be thanking me, not complaining.”
“You bruised my derrière, not saved it.” Levet rose to his feet, rubbing his tender backside as he tilted his head to glare at the vampire who was regarding him with a disdainful expression.
The male had strong barbarian features with faintly slanted dark eyes and a proud nose. His hair was long and as dark as ebony. He was wearing jeans and a plain T-shirt that was plastered to his muscular chest.
Tarak. Chiron’s master, who’d been imprisoned by the King of the Mer-folk for the past five hundred years. As far as Levet was concerned, the ill-tempered leech could spend another five hundred years locked away.
“Do you want to go back?” Tarak demanded. “I’m more than willing to get rid of you.”
“Non.” Levet’s tone was sulky. Vampires were so rude. “What was she?”
Tarak glanced toward the fog, his annoyance fading as he considered the question. “I don’t know. I could smell you and the female because you were at the edge of the barrier, but the fog is distorting my senses.”
“Magic.” Levet offered a wise nod of his head, then he sniffed the air. “Something’s burning.”
“Chiron’s jet.”
Levet glanced beyond the vampire to see a distant plume of smoke rising toward the star-splattered sky. His wings drooped. That didn’t look good.
“What about the crew?” he asked.
“Dead.” Tarak’s voice was cold, but Levet could feel the male’s tension vibrating
in the air. “When Chiron awoke to discover Ulric and the zephyr sprite—”
“Rainn,” Levet interrupted.
Tarak frowned. “What?”
“The zephyr sprite has a name. It is Rainn,” Levet insisted. As a demon who was constantly called “gargoyle” or “annoying pest” or “get out of here before I kill you,” he understood how easy it was to dismiss a creature by refusing to call them by name.
It was a matter of respect.
“Fine,” Tarak snapped, clearly annoyed at being interrupted. Really, vampires needed to take lessons in anger management. “After Chiron discovered Ulric and Rainn had taken his plane, he tried to contact his crew. When they didn’t respond, he reached out to me.”
Levet tilted his head. “Why you?”
“My private lair is just north of here.”
“Oh.” Levet snapped his fingers, belatedly realizing that the faint scent of salt wasn’t coming from the ocean. Instead it was wafting from a small cluster of trees. “Waverly.”
Levet took a step toward Tarak’s mate. Like most mer-folk, she had pale hair that was highlighted with hints of blue. Her wide eyes were the color of aquamarines and her skin looked as if it’d been dusted with the luminescent shimmer of a pearl. At the moment, however, she’d traded in her long, gauzy gown for a pair of jeans and a thick sweater.
“Stop.” Tarak moved to stand directly in Levet’s path. “Tell me what happened.”
Levet came to a sharp halt. Not because the vampire had told him to. He didn’t take orders from leeches. But because he was worried about Rainn. She seemed nice. Plus, the strange fog was making him feel icky. Something should really be done to get rid of it.
He would need assistance, even if it meant working with a vampire.
“I am not entirely certain,” he admitted. “I was minding my own honey—”
“Honey?” Tarak interrupted.
Levet furrowed his brow. Hmm. What was that ridiculous word?
“Beeswax,” he at last corrected himself. “Right?”
Tarak rolled his eyes. “Just get on with it.”
Levet clicked his tongue. It was the vampire who’d interrupted him. He continued his story. “I was taking a nap in the jet.” Tarak’s lips parted as if to demand why Levet would be sleeping in the plane, only to snap shut. He’d obviously learned his lesson. “When I realized that we were in the air, I came out to discover Ulric and Rainn, but they were barely speaking. All I really know is that Ulric was chasing some female he thought was dead. A pack mate.”
Tarak looked puzzled. “Chiron told me they’d all died.”
Levet lifted his hands. Rainn had given Levet an abbreviated account of what was happening after Ulric had stormed into the private bedroom on the jet. “Rainn said that a female Were, who Ulric claims is his long-lost cousin, strolled into the casino before she suddenly disappeared.”
“A trap,” Tarak said without hesitation.
“That is what Rainn thought,” Levet said. “Ulric, however, was determined to track her down.”
Tarak slowly turned to study the heavy fog that seethed and churned like a living force. “Odd,” he murmured. “I’d forgotten there was a werewolf village here. What happened to it?”
Levet shuddered. “Abomination.”
“Yes.” Tarak glanced back at Levet. “Where are Ulric and Rainn now?”
Levet waved a hand toward the fog. “In there.”
“How did you get through the barrier?”
Levet considered the question. He hadn’t actually thought of the thick mist as a barrier. But Tarak was right. It was there to keep creatures out. Or perhaps, to keep someone in.
“I did not go through it. It surrounded me,” he said. “Just as it must have surrounded Ulric and Rainn.”
“Or it was parted because something in there was waiting for them,” Tarak said. Before Levet could offer his opinion, the vampire was continuing. “I heard a female threatening you. Who was she?”
Levet blinked. Tarak needed to be more specific. He had a lot of people threatening him. Then he abruptly recalled his recent encounter with the old lady who’d tried to hold him captive with her burning bands of magic. “Oh.” His tail twitched around his feet. “I have never encountered a creature like her, but I suspect she is old.”
“Aren’t we all?” Tarak asked in dry tones.
“Non. Really old,” Levet insisted. Although he could count his years in the thousands, there were creatures who had been around from the dawn of time. “That is why we do not recognize her magic.”
Tarak didn’t argue. A miracle, considering that he was a vampire. Instead he nodded toward the fog. “The barrier wasn’t here when I built my lair several centuries ago,” he murmured. “So did the female travel here to create this place? And if so, why here? Why now?”
Levet tilted his head to the side, the taste of the fog still lingering in his mouth. “It did not feel as if the female was forming the magic,” he said, finding it difficult to describe the vibrations of evil that pulsed around the strange woman. “It was more that she was a creation of the magic that was seeped into the ground.”
Once again Tarak surprised Levet by accepting his explanation without a dozen tedious questions. No doubt because magic was something beyond the comprehension of vampires.
“If it’s an ancient demon who has somehow been awakened, we need to find someone who can tell us how to battle it.”
He sounded as if he was talking to himself. As if it didn’t occur to him that Levet had the ability to contribute to the solution.
Typical bloodsucker.
“Cyn might be of assistance,” Levet said in a voice loud enough to echo eerily through the darkness. “He has a library stuffed with old books and scrolls.”
Tarak scowled at him. At least until the name seemed to penetrate his thick skull. “Cyn.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why is that name familiar?”
“He is the clan chief of Ireland,” Levet said.
“Ah. The Berserker.”
“Oui. Although his new mate is attempting to tame him.” Levet gave a sad shake of his head at the thought of Fallon, the royal fey princess who was mated to Cyn. “Poor fairy.”
“This is not his territory, but he might have heard rumors of any ancient demons that lurk in the area.”
“I can take you to his lair.” Levet’s smile was smug. The last time he’d been at Cyn’s lair he’d been thrust into the role of hero. A familiar position. At least for him. “I was a guest there not long ago.”
Tarak rolled his eyes. “Guest or prisoner?”
“Prisoner?” Levet snapped his wings in outrage. “I will have you know that I was responsible for battling the Dark Lord and saving the world.”
Tarak appeared remarkably indifferent to Levet’s astonishing feats. “How far is his lair?”
Levet sniffed. Philly steak. No wait. Philistine. The vampire clearly had no appreciation for Knights in Shining Armor.
“Waverly can take us there through a portal,” he said.
As if she’d been eager for an opportunity to join the conversation, Waverly hurried forward. She ignored her mate’s glare as she gazed down at Levet. “I need to know where we’re going.”
“Easily done,” Levet assured her. “I can place the location in your mind.”
“Telepathy?” she demanded.
“Of a sort.” He stepped toward the mermaid, lifting his hand. “Will you allow me?”
Tarak reached out to slap Levet’s hand away. “No.”
“Tarak,” Waverly chastised her mate. “It’s fine. I trust him.”
Tarak muttered a curse. His fangs were flashing, and his hands balled into tight fists. Still, he didn’t protest as Waverly leaned down to speak directly to Levet.
“What do you need from me?”
Levet
once again reached out. “Take my hand and…” His words trailed away as he felt himself lifted off the ground. “Hey, I am floating,” he breathed in delight. Obviously, Tarak’s powers included telekinesis.
Waverly wasn’t so delighted. “Tarak,” she snapped.
Tarak hissed in annoyance. “I don’t like this.”
“I’m a big girl who can take care of herself, remember?”
The vampire hunched his shoulders as he caught sight of the anger burning in the aquamarine eyes. “I’m trying.”
Levet was abruptly dropped to the ground. He hit with enough force to rattle his teeth. He stuck out his tongue, sending a raspberry toward the stupid vampire before he grasped Waverly’s hand. “Shall we?”
Waverly nodded, closing her eyes as Levet opened a small door inside her mind. That was the only way he could describe how his magic worked. Then, calling up his memory of Cyn’s lair, he shared the image with the mermaid.
Waverly sucked in a sharp breath, an expression of wonderment on her face. “I’ve got it.” She created a portal before she held out her hand toward Tarak. “Are you coming?”
The vampire stomped forward. “I should have left that stupid gargoyle in the fog.”
Chapter 7
The darkness was absolute as they headed down the steps, the heaviness of the earth seeming to swallow them. Ulric’s wolf pressed against his skin, anxious to be released. Grimly, he battled back his animal. Right now he needed to think clearly.
Or at least, as clearly as possible.
His nostrils flared, absorbing his father’s familiar musk. How was it possible? Granted, the older Were had spent endless hours in the maze of tunnels while Ulric was in London. His mother had told him that his father was obsessed with a treasure trove of ancient scrolls that he’d discovered down here.
But after so many years, the scent should have faded to a mere whisper. Instead, it seemed to be seeped into the very stone around them. As if they were echoing their memory of the old wolf.
A shudder raced through Ulric.
It had to have something to do with the thick air, he told himself. Nothing could escape from the choking darkness.
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