Fear the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity)

by Alexandra Ivy

“This isn’t the same.”

  “Isn’t it?” Viper demanded. The Chicago clan chief had been witness to Styx’s conflicted battle between allegiance and duty. “Your heart was convinced that protecting your mentor was what was best for the vampires even though your head understood what had to be done.”

  Styx narrowed his gaze. Nothing was ever black-and-white. A good leader understood that he had to make decisions among the various shades of gray.

  “And if we were speaking of using Shay as bait,” he bit out.

  Viper’s midnight eyes flared with an instinctive fury, but with an obvious effort, he refused to be swayed. “I would try to kill you,” he admitted in cold tones. “But your duty isn’t just to me. Or Shay. Or Abby.”

  Spinning on his heel, Styx stomped across the room, his body trembling with the force of his emotions. “Damn you.”

  “Trust me, I don’t like this any better than you,” Viper continued to press. “Dante has been a brother to me for a very long time and Abby has become as dear to me as a sister. The thought of putting her in danger makes me want to ram my head through a wall. But can we destroy the world because we don’t like the choices we’re given?”

  Styx wanted to block out the compelling words. An Anasso was supposed to protect his people, not put innocents in the direct line of fire.

  A damned shame that Viper had a point.

  Could he truly put the future of the world in jeopardy if there was the slightest chance to alter fate?

  Feeling every one of his numerous years weighing down on him, Styx forced himself to turn back to his companion. “Even if I do agree to this madness and we manage to keep Dante from disappearing with his mate, we have no guarantee that the Dark Lord will give a shit about Abby,” he pointed out. “The creature has to know the Phoenix is in the world, but she hasn’t shown any interest in her before now.”

  Viper nodded. “True, but the Dark Lord has always been a victim of his”—he made a sound of annoyance—“I mean her bloated pride. If she caught a scent of the Phoenix near the rift, her desire for revenge might overcome her need for caution.”

  “That’s a lot of ifs,” Styx muttered.

  “It’s surely worth a try?”

  Was it?

  Styx scowled, not yet prepared to concede defeat. “Have you considered what happens if Abby or the goddess she carries inside her are destroyed?”

  Viper studied him with an unwavering gaze. “What do you mean?”

  “Right now we still have the hope that we can injure the Dark Lord’s current form sufficiently to drive its essence out and she will be forced to retreat back to her prison,” he pointed out, just as he had for Salvatore. “If we lose the Phoenix nothing will stop her.”

  Viper didn’t hesitate. “And if we do nothing?”

  Styx briefly contemplated the pleasure of rearranging Viper’s perfect features. It wasn’t the first time. Viper was one of the few vampires with the balls to stand up to him. Something that Styx didn’t always accept with grace.

  Instead he gave a shake of his head. “There has to be another way—” he began, only to break off as a shrill beep cut through the air. Digging the cell phone out of his pocket, he was astonished to discover his burst of power hadn’t destroyed the thing. He almost wished it had when he caught a glimpse of the message waiting for him. “Shit.”

  “Now what?” Viper demanded.

  “Regan heard from Jagr.”

  Viper curled his hands into fists, already sensing the news wasn’t good. “Another rift?”

  Styx tossed the phone on his desk. “Two more.”

  “We’re out of time.”

  It was true.

  As much as he hated to put Abby in danger, they had to find some means of destroying the Dark Lord before the hordes of hell overwhelmed them.

  Now the question was how to get Abby to the nearest rift before it was too late.

  “Get Levet,” he abruptly commanded.

  Viper blinked in confusion. “Why the gargoyle?”

  “We have to get a message to Abby without interference from Dante. If he suspects we intend to use his mate as bait he’ll do everything in his power to stop us,” he said, grimacing at the knowledge Dante would never forgive him. “Levet is the only one who can reach directly into her mind.”

  The gardens at the back of Styx’s mansion were just as rigidly formal as the rest of the estate. Perfectly manicured hedges that framed the individual rose beds, marble fountains circled by wrought-iron benches, and in the center of the flagstone pathways, a domed grotto that was bigger than most homes.

  Lovely, of course, Levet acknowledged, but nothing compared to the gardens he’d known in France. No one could outdo the sun kings when it came to lavish excess.

  Kicking a stray stone, Levet wandered aimlessly through the darkness, his wings twitching and his heart heavy. He hadn’t wanted to contact Abby. Not when he realized that Styx was asking her to deliberately put herself in front of the rift to piss off an evil deity.

  But what choice had he had?

  The vampires had insisted that without the presence of the Goddess of Light the entire world was doomed to be overrun with evil....

  Rubbing his stunted horn, Levet wallowed in his misery, blithely unaware of the hint of brimstone that suddenly mixed with the scent of roses in the air.

  So it was no wonder he nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand lightly touched his shoulder and a female voice whispered next to his ear, “Why so sad?”

  “Sacrebleu.”

  Leaping to the side, Levet glared at the small female demon with black, oblong eyes and a pale braid that hung nearly to the ground.

  Yannah.

  The female who’d bewitched him to the point of dropping everything to search for her like a Were in heat.

  Imbecile.

  “Hello, Levet.”

  “You.” He scowled, in no mood to be teased. “Go away.”

  She blinked, her heart-shaped face a picture of innocence. As long as he ignored the sharp, pointed teeth that could rip through stone. Oh, and the power that thundered through the air.

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do.” He tilted his chin, refusing to acknowledge the sizzling awareness that burned through him. So what if he felt like he’d been struck by lightning every time he caught a glimpse of this female? Or that his heart soared with delight? He was finished making a fool of himself. “I have followed you from here to Paris and back again. And for what?” He lifted his hands, waving them in magnificent disgust. “Not so much as a kiss.”

  She tilted her head, looking like an inquisitive bird. “Would a kiss take away that frown?”

  A kiss?

  His heart gave one of those flutters, his blood heating at the mere thought of pulling her tiny body into his arms and tasting her brimstone passion. He had waited so long.

  “It might—” He snapped his lips together. Mon Dieu. She had nearly done it to him again. “Non. This is no time for your games.”

  She pouted, but catching sight of his sour expression, she heaved a sigh. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  He glanced around the shadowed garden, half expecting Yannah’s mother to be hiding among the hedges. Which was ridiculous. Siljar was an Oracle, not a thief that skulked in the bushes. Not to mention the pertinent fact, she had the sort of power signature that could crush at a hundred paces.

  If she was nearby, he would know.

  He returned his attention to the tiny female who moved to stand in front of him, her white robe long enough to brush the paving stones. “Why are you here?”

  “I sensed your unhappiness.” She reached to gently stroke the tip of one stunted horn. “Tell me.”

  “I’ve done something I will never forgive myself for,” he shocked himself by admitting.

  It had nothing to do with her soft touch or the hint of sympathy in her dark eyes, he assured himself. He wasn’t that easily manipulated.

  It was just . . . he need
ed someone to talk to.

  Anyone would do. Even the marble statue of Neptune that spouted water out of his head.

  Yeah, that was it.

  “Ah.” She wrinkled her nose. “You’ve called for the Goddess of Light.”

  Levet didn’t bother to ask how the female knew he’d used his magic to speak directly into Abby’s mind. Or that he’d urged her to travel to the rift. Yannah had more than one mysterious talent.

  “Oui.”

  “Why does that trouble you?” Yannah frowned, obviously puzzled by his distress. “It’s the purpose of the Phoenix to stand against the tide of darkness.”

  “Because the Phoenix will not be charging into the battle alone,” Levet said, his wings drooping at the mere thought of sweet, oh-so-fragile Abby standing face-to-face with the Dark Lord. “The spirit will take ma chérie amie along for the outing.”

  Yannah gave a faint shake of her head. “You mean along for the ride?”

  “That is what I said, is it not?” he asked with an impatient frown.

  “Yes, well, it’s a time of change.” Yannah tried to soothe. “We’re all called to do our duty, whether we like it or not.”

  Levet pulled away from her distracting touch, pacing the distance between two ornate urns. “Well, I do not like it,” he muttered, his tail whipping behind him. “I do not like it at all.”

  “Please stop, Levet,” Yannah pleaded. “You’re making my head spin.”

  “Bien.” He came to a halt. Not because that’s what she wanted. But how else could he send her a warning glare? “You have been making my head spin from the moment we met.” He pointed a claw in her direction. “And, you punched me.”

  “It was a love-tap.”

  Levet made a sound of disbelief. “Love-tap? You broke my jaw.”

  “Do you want an apology?”

  What he wanted was for her to kiss and make it better, a renegade voice whispered.

  Kiss him over and over and over.

  And not just on the jaw.

  They could slip into the grotto where they would be all alone. He could at last indulge in the fantasies that had plagued him for weeks.

  Non. Non. Non.

  He folded his arms over his chest, just like he’d seen Styx do when he wanted to be an intimidating badass. “I want to be left in peace.”

  Yannah studied him, the dark gaze unnerving in its intensity. “This is more than guilt at calling your friend into danger, isn’t it?”

  He started to deny her ridiculous accusation only to find the words dying on his lips. Against his will his gaze shifted to the mansion where he could hear the rumble of vampires and Weres shouting orders.

  “They are preparing for war while I am condemned to the gardens. You see, my skills are”—he searched for the appropriate word—“lacking.”

  Yannah regarded him with a shocked confusion that seemed genuine. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because it’s true.”

  “No.” She gave a fierce shake of her head, the braid swinging from side to side. “It’s not true.”

  Any other night Levet would have reveled in her fierce defense. Why not? He’d tried every trick possible to capture her attention only to be dismissed, abandoned, and forgotten.

  Tonight, however, he’d been brutally reminded of his numerous inadequacies. With a grimace, he glanced down at his stunted body. “Look at me.”

  “I have looked,” she assured him. “More than once.”

  He lifted his head with a scowl. “If I were one of my brothers they would beg for my assistance. I would be a powerful warrior with magic that would make even the Dark Lord tremble in fear.”

  She slowly stepped forward, her hands folded at her waist and the moonlight pooling around her. Despite her tiny size, she looked as regal as any queen.

  “No, Levet,” she said, her voice oddly somber. “If you were one of your brothers you would be hibernating in your lair waiting to offer your loyalty to whoever comes out the winner.”

  It wasn’t at all what he’d expected and his pity party was suddenly deflated as effectively as if she’d stuck a pin in a balloon.

  She was right. From all reports his brethren had retreated beneath the streets of Paris, ignoring Styx’s call for demons to stand against the Dark Lord. Like rats fleeing a sinking ship. Gargoyles were infamous for bowing to whoever sat on the throne. Loyalty was not a word in their vocabulary.

  “I suppose that’s true,” he slowly agreed.

  She reached to place her hands on his shoulders, standing close enough he could feel the pulse of her power surrounding him.

  “Besides, you have a weapon far more important than muscles or magic.”

  Levet found himself lost in the compelling darkness of her eyes. “What weapon?”

  “A heart.” Her hand moved to rest in the center of his chest. “The one power that can’t be defeated by evil.”

  Chapter 24

  The Dark Lord’s prison

  Gaius seriously underestimated the instinctive desire of any creature for survival.

  He’d been convinced that he had nothing left to hope for. Nothing left but bitter regret and endless days of wishing for a swift death that would at last reunite him with Dara.

  But the moment the Dark Lord had turned her attention to creating further rifts, he found his feet carrying himself forward, scouring the godforsaken surroundings for a way to escape.

  A frustrating, not to mention, futile waste of time.

  Although he still had his medallion, he discovered it no longer obeyed his commands. Not surprising. The Dark Lord wasn’t stupid. She knew he would disappear at the first opportunity.

  And while he could sense the doorways she’d ripped through the veils, and occasionally catch the scent of demons as they sought to use the openings to spill from their particular hell dimension, he couldn’t push his way through them.

  Perhaps this was his punishment.

  To be trapped with the Dark Lord, all the while knowing that freedom lurked just out of reach.

  It seemed fitting.

  Standing near a stunted tree, Gaius flinched as a flare of heat seared over him, threatening to melt the flesh from his bones.

  “Gaius.”

  He didn’t want to turn. Not only because he was weary of her taunting, but because it made him nauseous to watch the strange spirit flickering around her.

  But what he did or didn’t want no longer mattered. Not since he’d bartered away his soul.

  With a slow movement, he stepped around the dead tree and faced the female eyeing him with petulant displeasure. “Yes, Mistress?”

  Her eyes smoldered with crimson fire while the misty outline of the Gemini haloed her slender body. “Were you hiding from me?” she demanded.

  He wryly glanced around the empty landscape. “Where would I go?”

  “I don’t know, but you were plotting something,” she accused. “I can sense it.”

  He stoically refused to react. Instead, he tried for a distraction. “Was there something you needed?”

  There was a pause before she dismissed any thought of him with a wave of her hand. “The transformation should be complete,” she complained. The lion’s head flickered in and out of focus just behind her, as if being shorted out by some unseen electrical charge.

  “Perhaps another sacrifice is needed.”

  “No,” she glared at him with malevolent annoyance. As if the spirit’s refusal to complete the binding was his fault. “There is something interfering. Or someone.”

  He took an instinctive step backward. “You can’t think that I—”

  “Of course not,” she snapped. “Despite the treachery you harbor in your heart, you don’t possess the power to halt my inevitable victory.”

  His lips twisted. All true.

  Humiliatingly true.

  “There’s no one else here.” He pointed out the obvious.

  “Which means the interference must be coming from one of the rifts.” />
  Gaius was motionless, his mind shifting through the unexpected revelation. Of all the possibilities he’d considered, he’d never once given thought to an outside force being able to penetrate this hellhole.

  A gift. One he’d have to use with great care.

  “Then close them,” he offered the suggestion that she would be expecting. Anything else would immediately rouse her suspicions.

  She reached to grasp his arm, branding him with her touch. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  He bowed his head, clenching his teeth against the blazing pain. “My only concern is for your welfare.”

  “Your only concern is saving your own skin. Pathetic worm.”

  “How can I prove my loyalty?”

  “You can’t.”

  Abruptly releasing his arm, the Dark Lord turned her attention to the vast expanse of nothingness bathed in a sickly yellow glow, holding out her hand as she walked forward.

  Gaius fell into step behind her. Why would she have sought him out if she didn’t want him to play devoted slave? But he was careful not to brush against the shadowy figure that surrounded her.

  The thing was . . . unnerving.

  They moved in heavy silence, their steps sending up tiny clouds of choking dust. Absently, Gaius wondered if this desolate land had been lurking beneath the white mists, or if the Dark Lord’s almost-transformation had blasted it to this current wasteland.

  Not that it mattered. One was as bad as the other.

  Without warning, the Dark Lord came to an abrupt halt, her outstretched hand clenching into a fist. “It’s here.”

  “Here” looked exactly the same as “there,” but Gaius’s disinterest was shaken as he caught an unmistakable scent drift through the thick air.

  “Vampires,” he muttered in shock, stepping closer to the elusive smell. “Could they be causing the disruption?”

  “Don’t be stupid,” she hissed in fury. “Vampires are no match for me. As you’ve discovered.”

  He grimaced as her insult slid home. “Then what is?”

  She dropped her hand, the halo around her seeming to fade to dull shadow.

  “The Phoenix.”

  His eyes widened in surprise. “The Goddess of Light?”