Darkness Unleashed

by Alexandra Ivy

  Contemplating what papers Culligan could possibly have that he considered worth keeping, Regan lowered her guard. A stupid mistake. Before she could blink she found herself hauled off her feet and firmly cradled against his chest.

  Damn vampire speed.

  “What are you doing?” she hissed, cursing the bulky bags and metal safe that tangled her arms and made it impossible to struggle. “Put me down.”

  He ignored her command (big freaking surprise), moving with fluid ease across the cave.

  “We can’t be sure that the explosion wasn’t a ruse to draw you out of the cave. We’ll have to sneak out.”

  She held herself stiffly, vividly aware of the cool power washing over her skin. Dammit, she wanted to be furious, not…aroused.

  “And if the curs are out there?” she snapped. “Won’t they sense us?”

  He shrugged, the long hair he’d left free to frame the haunting beauty of his lean face flowing down his back like liquid gold.

  “Salvatore was mocking, but Caine has reason to resent the Weres,” he said softly. “Unless a cur has fully shifted, their senses are not equal to most demons. Our scents are already spread through the area, so unless they actually see us leave the cave they won’t know we’ve slipped beneath their noses.”

  “Oh.” She abruptly felt like an idiot. “That’s why you made me leave the clothes behind.”

  “They should keep your scent lingering for days.”

  “Fine, Mr. Smarty Pants…”

  “Mr. Smarty Pants?”

  She ignored his interruption. “If they’re actually watching the cave, then how are we supposed to leave without being seen? Unlike you, I can’t wrap myself in shadows.”

  He paused at the entrance of the cave, an almost smile hovering around his lips.

  “You can as long as you stay close to me. Hold still.”

  Regan frowned.

  Well, hell.

  Was there anything vampires couldn’t do?

  Walk on water? Unlock the secret of cold fusion?

  Create world peace?

  Her annoyance at the injustice of vampires’ position at the top of the demon-world was forgotten as she suddenly felt like she’d been dipped in an icy pool of water.

  She sucked in a sharp breath.

  This wasn’t the cool surge of Jagr’s power.

  “Holy crap, what are you doing?” she demanded with a shiver. “I’m freezing.”

  “I’ve wrapped you in my shadows. They will hide us from prying eyes, but not from prying ears.” Before she could guess his intention, he bent downward to place his lips against hers. “Not a word, little one.”

  Sadie smiled as she watched the expensive Humvee being consumed by flames. Standing several blocks away on the roof of a restaurant that had once been a bordello, she had a perfect view to watch Salvatore leave the cave with his neutered curs scurrying behind him.

  Sniffling, spineless dogs.

  Their blind subservience to the self-proclaimed King of Weres sickened her. Why didn’t they just put a leash around their neck, and be done with it?

  Of course, they had managed to lead her to where Regan was hidden with the vamp, so perhaps they weren’t entirely useless.

  Her smile widened as she leaned against the decorative brick wall that lined the rooftop.

  “I do love a roaring bonfire. A pity I forgot to bring the marshmallows.”

  Standing at her side, Duncan growled with impatience. “Did you also forget to bring a point for this little exercise in futility?”

  “Careful, Duncan.” Sophie slid her companion a warning frown. “So far you’ve proven to be as incompetent as you are spineless. Twice now you’ve allowed our quarry to slip through your fingers.”

  Duncan’s jaw tightened, his pride obviously still pricked at having been bested by the young, untrained woman.

  Again.

  “At least I’ve had her in my fingers. Which is more than you can say.”

  “Only because I was stupid enough to assume my merry band of morons could manage to capture one little Were.” Sadie shrugged. “I won’t make that mistake again.”

  An ugly smile twisted his lips. “Oh, no, you’ve done much better. Now we not only have the most dangerous vampire in the entire world hunting our sorry hides, but you’ve managed to piss off the King of Weres. A real bang-up job.”

  Sadie bit back her snarl. It had been an unpleasant shock when the unmistakable scent of Salvatore had invaded her territory. Caine had sworn that the king had no interest in Regan, and wouldn’t so much as lift a finger to help her.

  Easy for him to say when he was safely hidden miles away.

  Bastard.

  And to top it off, she’d followed the scent of the curs to the cave, only to discover that not only was Regan being guarded by a vampire, the King of Weres, and his curs, but there was a damned gargoyle in residence.

  A lesser woman would have thrown in the towel. Sadie, however, had always been able to think on her feet, and it had taken only a moment to devise yet another brilliant plan.

  “Pissed off or not, I’ve managed to separate Regan from the Weres, as well as the gargoyle,” she pointed out, her annoyance easing as she smugly turned her attention back to the fire below.

  Duncan snorted. “That still leaves the vampire.”

  Fear skittered down her spine. God, she hated vampires. Bloodthirsty beasts.

  “He can be dealt with,” she muttered.

  Duncan’s short, ugly laugh set her teeth on edge. “So you’re not only arrogant, you’re delusional?”

  “What I am is smart enough to have a plan.”

  “So did the wolf in the Three Little Pigs, and you know how that worked out.”

  Sophie curled her lips. “What are you, twelve?”

  “Just tell me this brilliant plan.”

  Reaching into the pocket of her leather duster, Sophie pulled out a small flask and screwed off the lid.

  “Culligan was kind enough to donate his blood to our cause.”

  Never the sharpest tool in the shed, Duncan scowled in confusion.

  “Not that I’m opposed to draining the nasty imp, but what good is his blood?”

  Sophie waved the flask beneath his nose. “Such a poignant, fruity scent. Quite unique.”

  “Yeah, Calvin Klein should bottle it for his fall collection.”

  She chuckled in anticipation. “I’m glad you think so.”

  “Just tell me what the hell you’re going to do with it.”

  “I’ve at last found a use for you outside my bed.” With a casual motion, Sophie dumped half the blood onto the cur’s silk shirt. “Congratulations, Duncan, you’ve just been promoted to bait.”

  Jumping back, Duncan stared at his stained shirt in fury. “What the hell?”

  With an efficient motion, Sophie closed the flask and tucked it back into her pocket. She would need the rest of the blood to lure Regan into her trap.

  “Circle around the gargoyle and let him catch a scent of Culligan’s blood. Once he’s on your trail, lead him away from here,” she commanded. “Without his ability to sense magic, the vamp and Regan will be powerless to find us.”

  “Lead him where?”

  “I don’t give a shit, you idiot. Just away from here.”

  Duncan’s eyes glittered with fury. “And what are you going to do?”

  She turned back toward the bluff. She’d ordered two of her curs to keep watch on the cave from the woods behind the entrance, but she needed to find a closer position to set her trap.

  “I’m going to wait for the sun to rise.”

  Without warning, Duncan was standing at her side, his head bent to whisper directly in her ear.

  “A small warning, Sadie,” he growled softly. “The early cur doesn’t get the worm…she gets eaten by the big bad vampire.”

  A spike of unease tightened her stomach before she pushed him away with a violent burst of temper.

  “Just go, Duncan. And try not to
screw this up.”

  Ignoring the warning glow in her eyes, Duncan swaggered across the roof, and with one motion leaped over the low wall. She heard the faint scrape of his landing in the alley behind the building, followed by the fading sound of footsteps.

  Waging war against the instinct to shift, Sadie clenched her teeth and dug her nails into the palms of her hands. It was a futile effort, of course.

  Unlike purebloods, a cur was always at the mercy of their nature. Once they reached a critical point, there was no halting the transformation.

  “You owe me, Caine,” she swore on a low growl. “You owe me big.”

  With an effort that should earn her sainthood, Regan managed to hold her tongue as Jagr streaked through the darkness. His blinding speed (not to mention the icy shadows he’d wrapped around them) made her eyes water and her lungs struggle to function properly.

  It was impossible to believe that anything lacking jet propulsion could be capable of following them, but Jagr clearly wasn’t in the mood to take any chances, and she wasn’t overly anxious to distract him while he charged across the empty fields at sonic speed.

  Still, her patience wasn’t endless. As ten minutes became twenty, Regan had had enough.

  They were miles from Hannibal.

  Hell, they were miles from anything resembling civilization.

  “Hey, Sacagawea, I didn’t sign up for the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Where are we going?” she demanded, her teeth clenched to keep them from chattering.

  “North.”

  Smart ass.

  “Yeah, I got that much.” She forced her gaze from the empty fairgrounds they were passing to the austere beauty of his face. Her heart skipped a familiar beat. “Why don’t we just go back to one of the hotels? There’re two of them that not only have our scent all over them, but come complete with a bed and hot shower.”

  “A hotel is too easily surrounded.” Jagr slowed his pace, his eyes shimmering like sapphires in the darkness. “And along with the bed and shower come very large windows that are perfect for allowing in the morning sunlight.”

  “Seems like a reasonable price to pay,” she muttered, aggravated by the insistent, merciless awareness that refused to leave her in peace.

  A ghost of a smile played about his lips. The bastard knew precisely the effect he had on her treacherous body.

  “You would miss me if I were reduced to a tiny pile of ash.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I think you might look good in shades of gray.”

  “Harsh, little one,” he chastised. “Your manners leave a great deal to be desired.”

  “As if yours are any better?”

  “Obviously, we deserve one another.”

  Her heart didn’t skip this time. It came to a complete, perfect stop.

  We deserve one another…

  The words were harmless, nothing more than a casual joke. But there was nothing amusing in the poignant longing that flooded her heart.

  “Not freaking likely.” She squirmed in his arms, suddenly more afraid of the sensations jolting through her body than being dropped. “I’m freezing. Put me down.”

  Miraculously, Jagr came to a halt and gently lowered her to her feet. Not that she believed for a moment he was actually following orders. She wasn’t that stupid.

  A rabid tiger would be more likely to dance the rumba.

  Obviously it suited his purpose to stand in an empty field, staring at the large, abandoned building. A building that looked as if it could be some sort of creepy asylum.

  A suspicion that became absolute certainty when Jagr tilted back his head as if testing the air.

  “Remain close to my side,” he muttered.

  Regan rubbed her arms, as much from the brittle tension radiating from Jagr as from the chill still clinging to her skin.

  “You think the curs are chasing us?”

  His gaze continued to scan the darkness. “There’s always a possibility that we’ve been followed, but I’m more concerned with the vampire who has a lair in the area. I wouldn’t want any misunderstandings by bringing a Were into his territory.”

  Regan stiffened in wariness. Another vampire? Just what she needed.

  “There’s a clan here?”

  “No. Tane has no connection to a clan, although he no doubt has a number of guards with him. He’s a Charon.”

  “A Charon.” She shook her head, dredging up the little Greek mythology she’d read. “You mean a ferryman?”

  “Not quite.” His expression had settled into those cold, remote lines that always meant trouble. “A vampire assassin.”

  Well, this just got better and better.

  “Just to clarify, does that mean he’s a vampire who happens to be an assassin, or that he’s an assassin who kills vampires?”

  “He hunts vampires.”

  “He’s some sort of cannibal, and you intend to invade his territory? Are you nuts?”

  “Tane’s not a cannibal. He’s a part of an elite group of warriors that Styx founded long before he became the Anasso, their sole purpose being to destroy those vampires who have become unstable.”

  “Unstable?”

  “It’s rare, but not unknown.”

  Regan shuddered. The thought of a powerful, predatory vampire becoming unhinged wasn’t a pretty one.

  Actually it was downright terrifying.

  “Should I ask?”

  His expression was grim. “No.”

  Good enough for her.

  “So this Tane hunts them down and kills them?” she instead demanded.

  “It’s his duty.”

  “Lovely.” With a grimace, her attention shifted toward the nearby building. At a distance it looked as if it had once been a handsome structure. Three stories, with a large verandah on the ground level and a balcony with a decorative railing running along the second floor, it boasted the type of high arched windows popular before air-conditioning, and six fluted columns that added an air of graceful dignity. The darkness, however, couldn’t disguise the fact that the red bricks were crumbling into slow oblivion and the windows were missing most of their panes of glass. “Why does he live out here in the middle of nowhere? Does he give the other vampires the heebie-jeebies?”

  “A Charon must always remain above the politics and loyalties of various clans,” Jagr said, his tone distracted as he continued to remain on guard. “The killing of a vampire, even one who is beyond salvation, has started too many wars.”

  “So he has to live in isolation?”

  “Beyond his servants, yes. It helps avoid complications.”

  “Jeez.” Regan grimaced. “What a crappy job.”

  “Tane took his position willingly. Many vampires prefer solitude.”

  “Vamps like you?”

  His head turned, his brilliant eyes narrowed as if her soft question had struck a nerve.

  “I can’t deny that I’ve spent the past centuries preferring the company of books to that of my brothers.”

  “Did you blame them for leaving you in the hands of Kesi?”

  Jagr tensed, his fangs flashing as his features hardened with a frozen fury.

  “I blamed them for allowing me to be turned into the same sort of monster who tortured me in the first place.”

  “You…” Regan was forced to halt and clear her throat. “You resent being a vampire?”

  “I did.” The cold bitterness slowly thawed as he studied her wary eyes. “But I’m beginning to discover being turned isn’t without a few benefits.” His finger brushed her cheek, the cool caress leaving a trail of fire in its wake. “Do you want me to tell you some of those benefits, little one?”

  Her mouth went dry.

  She knew those benefits in intimate detail.

  And she wanted more.

  God almighty, did she want more.

  “Did Styx try to make you one of his Charons?” she abruptly demanded, jerking away from his lingering finger. Holy crap, did all vamps possess the ability to seduce with a tou
ch?

  “Jagr as a Charon?” a dark, oddly hypnotic voice floated on the warm night breeze. “Our Anasso is far too wise to send one feral vampire after another. The idea of a Charon is to prevent a bloodbath, not create one.”

  Jagr smoothly turned as Tane at last revealed his presence.

  He’d sensed the dangerous vampire lurking near the dilapidated building since they’d crossed into his territory, but it was never wise to acknowledge a Charon unless they invited you to do so.

  “Tane.”

  The assassin remained wrapped in shadows, keeping enough distance to warn he wasn’t pleased at the unexpected intrusion.

  “You’re trespassing, Jagr. A dangerous mistake that has been a death sentence for more than one creature.”

  Jagr held out his hands in a gesture of peace. When he’d traveled from Chicago to Hannibal, he’d sensed Tane’s lair was in the vicinity but he hadn’t intended to drop by for a visit. He’d met the assassin nearly a decade before and wasn’t overly anxious to renew their acquaintance. All vampires were lethal, but Tane possessed an edgy, restless hunger that made even Jagr’s skin crawl with warning.

  Necessity, unfortunately, was a bitch, and for the moment Tane was the lesser of two evils.

  He didn’t need to use his senses to detect the wards and traps that were woven around the assassin’s lair. Although Charons were in theory under the protection of Styx, they weren’t stupid. Any vampire living in such a remote spot would go to infinite lengths to ensure his own security.

  “My presence is at the command of the Anasso,” Jagr warned, knowing that any Charon was forced to take oaths that bound them tightly to Styx.

  He could only hope that Tane was willing to honor those vows.

  “And the woman?” Tane drawled. “Is she a gift for disturbing my peace? I prefer my females with more curves and less tongue, but she’ll do.”

  “Hey, you piece of…”

  Swiftly wrapping one arm around Regan’s waist, Jagr placed his free hand over her mouth. Gods, the woman was going to get them both killed.

  Leaning down, he spoke directly in her ear. “Regan, remain here while I negotiate with my brother.”

  She glared at him until he dropped his hand from her mouth. “Negotiate what?”

  “Whether you live or die,” Tane taunted from the shadows.