Fear the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity)

by Alexandra Ivy

  Caine heard Cassie suck in a sharp breath. “You aren’t my sister,” she accused.

  “Obviously not,” Gaius retorted, grimacing with intense relief.

  That was his cue.

  With a surge of power, he shifted back to his true form, grabbing the long satin robe he’d left on the nearby shelf to cover his naked body. Then, smoothing back his raven hair, he turned to meet the wary gazes of the intruders.

  They didn’t look like they should be on the Dark Lord’s most wanted list. The tiny, pale-haired female with her green eyes too big for the heart-shaped face and the surfer boy Were who looked like he should be sunbathing on the nearest beach.

  How had they managed to elude the most skilled trackers in the demon world?

  Then Caine placed a protective arm around the prophet and Gaius caught a glimpse of feral fury smoldering in the blue eyes. The surfer boy would destroy the world to protect the female at his side.

  “Shit. Who are you?” Caine muttered in revulsion. “No, scratch that. What the hell are you?”

  Insulted by the lack of appreciation for his considerable skill, Gaius smoothed his hands down the black satin of his robe. “I don’t know why I’m continually shocked by the Weres’ lack of manners,” he drawled. “You are dogs, after all.”

  Caine narrowed his gaze, obviously struggling to accept Gaius’s unusual talents. “Leeches can’t shape-shift.”

  “I have powers beyond your imagination.”

  The Were snorted. “And an ego to match.”

  Gaius clenched his teeth, waving his hand at the two curs. He wasn’t going to bicker with a damned dog. Not when he was standing in the wine cellar of the King of Weres. The sooner they were away from St. Louis and back in his lair, the better.

  “Get the seer,” he commanded.

  Caine growled, his eyes glowing with power as he prepared to shift. “Over my dead body.”

  Dolf swiftly shed his clothing, his own eyes flashing the crimson of all curs. “That can be arranged.”

  “No, you idiots, the Dark Lord wants them taken alive,” Gaius snarled as the air around Ingrid and Dolf shimmered and with the savage sound of popping muscle and bone they shifted into wolves.

  The size of small ponies with pale fur and crimson eyes, they bared their fangs, ignoring Gaius’s sharp reprimand as they kept their attention fixated on Caine.

  Muscle-bound morons. If their lust for violence ruined this opportunity for him to please the Dark Lord and reap his long overdue reward, he was going to have them skinned and nailed to his wall.

  Not that their lack of control seemed to matter. Even as they crouched for an attack, a choking heat filled the cellar and with an explosion of power Caine was shifting. Gaius muttered a curse, watching in horror as the monstrous beast appeared out of the shimmering magic.

  Standing as tall as Gaius even on all four legs, the beast’s head was the size of an anvil and his chest as wide as a small car. Even more unnerving was the ruthless intelligence burning like sapphire fire in his eyes.

  Unlike the curs, Caine wasn’t consumed by his bloodlust. Just the opposite.

  With a frustrating cunning, the Were used his head to herd the reluctant prophet into the cement cell, then blocked the narrow doorway with his large body. There would be no getting to Cassandra without going through Caine.

  Bastardo.

  Gaius took a covert step backward as Ingrid and Dolf charged into the literal jaws of death. He had no intention of getting caught in the fray. Not when he was drained from his shape-shifting, not to mention the effort of mist-walking with two curs and a witch to get to this wine cellar in the first place.

  Instead, he waved an imperious hand toward the witch, who tried her best to hide behind a stone column. “Sally.”

  Her feet visibly dragged as she forced herself to move to his side. “What?”

  He scowled at her petulant tone. “Are you just going to stand here gawking?”

  She sent a wary glance toward the snarling curs who were trying to use the tag-team offense against the larger Were.

  A futile effort.

  Even as one managed to dig their fangs into Caine’s thick fur, he was savagely ripping into the flesh of the other. Of course, the brutal battle did mean he was temporarily distracted.

  “What do you want me to do?” Sally demanded, her nose wrinkling as the potent scent of blood saturated the air. Or maybe it was the howls of pain that echoed through the cellar as Caine managed to rip a chunk out of Dolf ’s muzzle.

  The two curs were managing to wound the Were, but not without taking a dangerous amount of damage.

  “You’re a witch, aren’t you?”

  She shrugged. “It’s too small a space to risk a spell.”

  “You were quick enough to use magic when we first arrived.”

  “That was a harmless masking spell to disguise our presence in this place,” she reminded him, her gaze deliberately skimming down his tense body. “Not all of us have been . . . neutered.”

  Gaius grasped the bitch by her neck, infuriated by the reminder he’d allowed himself to be stripped of his very essence. Digging his claws into her throat, he yanked her off her feet, holding her so they were eye to eye. “Don’t think you can taunt me, witch,” he hissed, his voice thickening with an accent as ancient as the Roman Empire.

  She grabbed his wrist, her eyes wide with agony. “The Dark Lord—”

  “Will accept my most abject apologies for the death of his conduit and swiftly find another,” he smoothly interrupted.

  “Please,” she begged. “No.”

  Abruptly releasing his hold, he allowed Sally to drop to the ground. Her ridiculous pigtails bobbed around her face, which was painted with black liner and lipstick, as she straightened, wiping the blood from her neck.

  “Then make yourself useful and bring me the seer,” he snapped.

  “Are you mental?”

  Gaius watched the witch’s fear of him being replaced by a flare of panic at being ordered to wade into the gory battle.

  “Even if I could get past her rabid protector, which I couldn’t, she’s a pureblooded Were.”

  “She can’t shift.”

  “She can still rip me in half.”

  He leaned down until they were nose to nose, his power making her flinch. “So can I.”

  “Crap. I should have just let my mother kill me,” she muttered. “She, at least, intended to make it quick.”

  Clenching her hands at her sides, Sally grudgingly made her way across the floor, abruptly jumping sideways when a bloody Ingrid went sailing past her to slam into the wine barrels and lay unconscious.

  Gaius shook his head. Things weren’t going well.

  Not that he was particularly surprised. He’d suspected from the beginning that the curs’ confidence that they could defeat a pureblooded Were was more a product of their mutual arrogance than genuine skill.

  But he’d at least hoped they could disable Caine long enough that he could get his hands on the prophet and disappear from the cellar.

  Now Ingrid was down and out for the count. Dolf was pinned to the ground with the Were’s fangs clamped in a death lock on his throat.

  And the witch was trying to wriggle her way into the narrow cell with all the enthusiasm of a prisoner headed to the gallows.

  The temptation to simply walk away from the unfolding fiasco screamed through him. He could return to his lair and pretend he’d never been near St. Louis. Unfortunately, he couldn’t be certain that Caine and Cassandra would do him the service of actually killing the Three Bumbling Amigos. And if one survived, they were bound to squeal to the Dark Lord.

  Then . . .

  He shuddered, unwilling to imagine what might happen. No. He couldn’t run. But he was still too weak to battle an enraged pureblooded Were. So now what?

  Lost in his dark broodings, he was caught off guard when Sally gave a sudden war cry. Or he assumed that’s what it was supposed to be. To be honest, it sounded li
ke a bad imitation of Tarzan.

  Gaius watched in disbelief as the witch darted toward the female Were and grabbed her by the ponytail, giving it a violent tug.

  Had she gone mad?

  Clearly as baffled as him, the prophet shoved the female away with more confusion than actual fear. Her protector, however, didn’t give a shit what Sally was trying to do and, after giving the unconscious Dolf a toss to land on top of Ingrid, Caine turned his lethal attention to the witch.

  Sally screeched as he snapped his bloody fangs directly at her face, and she charged out of the cell with a speed that was considerably faster than the pace she used going in.

  Nothing quite like having a Were trying to bite off your head to offer a bounce to your step.

  Heading directly toward him, she waved a closed fist in the air. “Get us out of here.”

  He scowled, silently hoping that the rabid Were managed to strike the killing blow.

  Of course, he couldn’t be so lucky.

  Clearly wounded, the animal refused to give in to his bloodlust. Instead, he remained in the doorway, resolutely protecting his companion rather than yielding to his primitive instincts.

  Bastardo.

  Cursing in resignation, Gaius moved to stand beside the mangled curs who were neatly piled next to the shelf. Then, wrapping his fingers around the medallion that hung from a chain around his neck, he waited only long enough for Sally to reach his side before muttering a word of power and surrounding them in mist.

  A spectacular fuck-up from start to finish.

  Caine had a vivid memory of his battle with the two curs. The taste of their blood as he’d ripped out chunks of fur and flesh. The sound of their howls of pain. And the scent of their escalating desperation.

  But he hadn’t managed to entirely avoid injury. And while none of his wounds were life-threatening, they were all leaking blood at a rate that was rapidly stealing his strength.

  Grimly ignoring his increasing weakness, he managed to drive away the human witch before his legs collapsed beneath him. His head hit the cement of the floor with enough force to briefly knock him loopy and when he at last managed to clear the fog, it was to discover he’d shifted back to human form and Cassie was kneeling beside his naked body.

  “Caine.” She tenderly brushed the hair from his sweaty forehead. “We have to get out of here.”

  “Yes.” His voice was hoarse, but he sensed that most of his wounds had sealed shut during his shift. Unfortunately, it would take time to completely heal. Time he wasn’t sure they had.

  “Let me help you,” Cassie murmured, slipping her arm beneath him as he struggled to stand.

  “The vampire?” he rasped, his blurry gaze searching the seemingly empty cellar.

  “He disappeared.”

  Reluctantly allowing Cassie to take the majority of his weight as they stumbled toward the tunnel, he frowned at her vague response. “Which way did he go?”

  Her arm snaked around his waist as they entered the tunnel, her lavender warmth wrapping around him. He sucked in the sweet scent, hoping to ease his wolf ’s rabid fury.

  It didn’t matter that he logically understood Cassie was unharmed. Or that there didn’t appear to be any immediate danger. The beast inside him wasn’t going to be satisfied until those who dared attack his female were destroyed.

  “No, I mean he disappeared, disappeared,” she said. “Poof.”

  He frowned. Had the witch managed to befuddle Cassie long enough to make it seem as if they’d disappeared?

  “That’s impossible.”

  She shrugged. “Then he has made himself and his companions invisible.” She sent him a challenging glance. “Is that more possible?”

  “The witch . . . ?”

  “No, it was the vampire,” she stubbornly insisted. “He grabbed an amulet that was hanging around his neck and they all vanished.”

  Christ. His head throbbed as he tried to accept the nasty leech could not only shape-shift, but could appear and disappear in the blink of an eye.

  Just. Freaking. Perfect.

  “The entire world has gone mad,” he muttered.

  Cassie patted his shoulder. “Yes.”

  “Are you humoring me?”

  “Yes.”

  Caine swallowed a sigh, too weak to conjure the proper outrage. In fact, it was taking everything he had just to put one foot in front of the other.

  He clenched his teeth as they slowly made their way to the end of the tunnel, but glancing up at the opening, he was forced to concede defeat. There was no way in hell he was going to be able to leap five feet in the air.

  “I can’t get out until I rest,” he grudgingly admitted.

  Cassie moved so he could lean against the side of the tunnel, her expression one of calm determination. “I’ll go up first and pull you out.”

  He scowled. “It’s supposed to be the other way around.”

  “Why? Because you’re the male?”

  “Exactly.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Sexist dog.”

  It was an accusation that had never been thrown Caine’s way before. Even when he was a cur he’d preferred women who were strong and independent, with a dangerous edge. Nothing kept a man on his toes like bedding a woman who might rip out your throat if you pissed her off.

  But with Cassie . . .

  He wanted to become the worse sort of cliché.

  He wanted to build a perfect lair where she would be safe and warm and so comfortable she would never leave.

  He wanted to hunt for their food and then stand guard, offering protection as she eased her hunger.

  He wanted to hold her in his arms as she slept, feeling her soft breath on his neck and her heart beating steadily beneath his hand.

  “I like having you depend on me,” he muttered.

  She smiled, moving to place a gentle kiss on his lips. “Partners depend on each other.”

  “Partners,” he breathed, ignoring just how perilously close the word sounded to mates.

  Chapter 7

  Cassie had learned a great deal about patience over the past three decades.

  Being a hostage to a demon lord meant that she’d spent the majority of her life in dank caves. On occasion, she was allowed a television or books to help pass the time, but for the most part she’d had to endure endless days with nothing but her visions to distract her.

  Still, it took all of her skill to urge the testy Caine out of the tunnel, using her strength to boost him up and then over the garbage bin. And then, ignoring his snappish complaints that he wasn’t an invalid, she’d managed to wrestle him to the waiting Jeep, loading him into the passenger seat before sliding behind the steering wheel.

  Trying to hide the lingering weakness from his injuries, Caine wiped the sweat from his brow and sent her a frustrated glare. “What are you doing?”

  She hid her smile. He wouldn’t be in such a foul mood if he weren’t healing.

  When he’d first collapsed at her feet she’d been frantic with fear. What if he’d been killed trying to protect her? The mere thought had been like a brutal punch to her gut.

  She couldn’t bear the loss.

  It was that simple.

  Wrenching her thoughts away from the destructive memory, Cassie instead turned to the task at hand. Whether he liked it or not, Caine was still weak and it was going to be up to her to take charge.

  “I’m going to get us out of here,” she said, nibbling her bottom lip as she concentrated on locating the key that Caine always kept hidden beneath the floor mat and sticking it into the ignition.

  “Can you drive?” Caine demanded.

  The engine roared to life and she studied the knobby thing that she recalled she had to pull down to allow the vehicle to move forward.

  “How hard can it be?”

  “Shit,” he muttered. “Just wait. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

  She managed to get into gear and pressed gently on the gas pedal, holding the steering wheel in a
death grip as they eased down the dark, empty street.

  “What if we were followed?”

  “There was a masking spell that should have dampened our scent,” he said, his hand reaching to brace on the glove box as she began to pick up speed. “Besides, whatever is chasing us can’t be any more dangerous than you behind the wheel.”

  “Very funny. I happen to be doing just fine, so sit there and be quiet.” She sent him a chiding glare, only to have her moment of victory ruined as the wheels hit the curb and they took out a stop sign. “Oops.”

  “I guess we’re about to find out if I’m truly immortal.”

  With a sniff, she turned her attention back to the road. “Keep it up and I’ll kick your naked butt out. Maybe Ingrid and her creepy twin will stop by and pick you up.”

  He made a sound of disgust, but obviously accepting he was in no position to complain, he instead pointed toward the side street. “Turn left here.”

  Cassie followed his direction, keeping her speed slow but steady as they headed out of the fringes of St. Louis. Soon they left all signs of town behind, traveling down a gravel road that was flanked by cornfields.

  An hour later Cassie was wondering if she’d bitten off more than she could chew. She hadn’t wrecked, thank the gods, but her muscles were cramped from her nervous tension and her fingers were aching from gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

  “How much farther?”

  “Not far,” Caine assured her. “Take a right at that mailbox.”

  She slowed, turning onto a narrow path that was rough and nearly overgrown with weeds. “Where are we going?”

  He straightened in his seat, his power sizzling through the air to assure her that he was nearly fully recovered from his battle. “I have a hidden lair just a few miles north of here.”

  “How many lairs do you have?”

  It spoke of his trust in her that he didn’t even hesitate to answer. “A dozen spread across North America and another six in Mexico.”

  She blinked. That seemed . . . excessive. “Why so many?”

  “I always knew that Salvatore would eventually stumble across my trail,” he said with a shrug. “I needed to be able to disappear no matter where I was.”