“Haven’t you heard? Fate is a bitch,” Vex retorted. Then she gave another shrug. “But I do feel a distant echo which makes me believe that she might still be alive. It’s almost as if she has traveled…”
Vex allowed her words to trail away.
“Where?” Tayla prompted, eager to latch on to any thread of hope.
Vex released a harsh sigh. “I am not sure.”
Levet waddled forward, laying a small hand on Vex’s knee. “Can you try to reach her?” he asked.
Vex paused, glancing toward Tayla before returning her gaze to Levet. “I will try, but I can’t make any promises,” she said.
“Merci, ma belle.” Levet patted her knee, a strained smile curving his lips. “And just as a teensy, tiny reminder, my future health depends solely on you locating Blayze.”
Vex scowled, clearly feeling the pressure. “Then maybe you should leave me alone to do my business,” she snapped.
“Oui.” Levet wisely stepped away. See? He had no death wish. “Do your business.”
Vex glared at him before closing her eyes. Levet continued to back away, joining Tayla who had moved to stand in the open doorway. Far enough away to give the succubus space, but still capable of keeping an eye on her.
“What happens if she does find Blayze’s mental imprint?” Tayla asked in a soft voice, as if worried she might draw the wrath of Vex if she spoke too loud.
She should be worried.
Vex was called Vex for a reason. She was beautiful and passionate and glorious fun. But she had the temper of a rabid goblin.
“Then she can latch on to her and use the connection to physically yank her back to this room.”
Tayla looked suitably impressed. It was one thing to be able to mentally communicate with another demon. Levet possessed that particular skill. But to actually be able to mentally grab on tight enough to transport them from one spot to another was amazing.
“Does she pull them through a portal?” Tayla asked.
Levet gave a lift of his hands. “I’ve never seen her actually do it.”
Tayla sighed, chewing on her lower lip. “I hope this works.”
Levet’s tail twitched. Styx’s warning was still ringing in his ears. “As do I.”
***
Styx left The Viper Pit’s rooftop, where a shimmering dome of magic held the ancient dragon in stasis.
The magical spell thankfully continued to keep Synge imprisoned in a deep sleep, but Styx remained on edge. With every passing second they came closer to Synge breaking free of the spell and starting a war that none of them wanted.
And the worst part was that there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.
He had no way of discovering which vampire might have released the curse. Not when it had happened over five hundred years ago. Which meant he had to depend on Levet to track down Blayze and return her to her father’s lair.
Was it any wonder his stomach felt it was being tied into a tight knot of dread?
No demon with a brain in his skull would want to place the fate of the world in the hands of that damned gargoyle.
Returning to the balcony of the club, he found Viper waiting for him.
“Where’s Baine?” the younger vampire demanded.
“I asked him to remain and keep an eye on his father,” Styx said. “I’d like a little warning if the stasis spell starts to fail.”
Viper grimaced. “I’d like more than just a ‘little’ warning,” he muttered.
No shit. The knot in Styx’s gut doubled in size.
He moved to glance over the railing. The long room was empty, but he could sense fey creatures still scurrying below him.
“I thought you were going to empty the place of guests?”
Viper gave an elegant wave of his hand. The younger vampire would forever be a Regency aristocrat at heart.
“There are a few pixies hiding in the cellars. They managed to lock themselves in one of the storage closets and refuse to come out.”
Styx snorted. Fey looked fragile, but they were cunning beasts who would take advantage of any situation. “They probably took a few bottles of your brandy with them,” he pointed out.
Viper arched a brow. “Speaking of my precious brandy, I do hope you intend to make sure the enraged dragon who is perched on my roof doesn’t destroy my club.”
Styx instinctively glanced toward the ceiling. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t see Synge. He could feel his presence pressing down on them with a heavy sense of doom.
“I’m more concerned about the enraged dragon destroying me,” he admitted.
Viper tugged at the lacy cuff of his shirt that peeked from the sleeve of his velvet coat.
“Well that would be a shame, of course,” he drawled. “But not as tragic as the loss of The Viper Pit.”
Styx rolled his eyes. “Your loyalty to your Anasso is touching.”
“There can be another Anasso,” Viper assured him. “There’s only one Viper Pit.”
Styx’s lips twitched. Being the King of the Vampires was a sucky job that had few rewards. Unfortunately, someone had to do it, and for now the responsibility was squarely on him. “We should be safe for another few hours,” he said, inwardly sending a prayer to whatever deity might be listening. In truth, he didn’t know how long they had.
“And then?” Viper demanded.
“Then we run,” he retorted.
Viper made a sound that revealed what he thought about Styx’s plan. At least he didn’t flip him off.
“Wouldn’t it be easier if you took your big-ass sword to the roof and killed our unwelcome visitor?” the younger vampire asked.
The thought had crossed Styx’s mind. More than once.
“I’m trying to avoid a war with the dragons,” he told his companion. “Something that will be easier if I don’t kill one of their most powerful leaders. Plus, Baine is up there keeping a watch on his father. He might have something to say about me waving around a pointy weapon.”
Viper rolled his eyes. “Buzzkill.”
Styx folded his arms over his chest. “As much as I hate to admit it, I have to hope that Levet can find Blayze before all hell breaks loose.”
Viper looked grim. “Literally.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Char finished his sweep of the empty guardroom. It looked the same as it did five hundred years in the future. No big surprise. Most warriors had zero interest in interior design.
They wanted someplace to practice their skills, store their weapons, and sleep without concern they were going to be attacked.
Simple.
Once he was certain it would be the perfect way to locate the treacherous servant, he stepped into the corridor, and headed back toward Blayze.
He didn’t know if it’d been five minutes. And he didn’t care.
He could tell himself a thousand times that Blayze could never be his. And that he would have to walk away when she chose a pureblooded mate. Someone like Bolt. But his dragon was restlessly pressing against his skin, refusing to accept the inevitable.
His beast was convinced the female belonged to him. And no amount of logic was going to change his mind.
Rounding the curve of the corridor, he discovered Blayze standing close to Bolt. Instantly his silver flames were dancing over his skin.
“Your time’s up,” he growled, his gaze locked on Bolt as he continued to move forward.
Blayze made a sound that might have been frustration as she hurried toward him and laid a hand on the center of his chest.
“Bolt has agreed to help us,” she said.
The mere sound of the male’s name on her lips was enough to make Char’s dragon roar in protest.
“We don’t need his help,” Char snapped.
Blayze frowned. “Of course we do.”
“I—” Char snapped his lips together. He was being an idiot. Who would turn away the assistance of a pureblooded dragon? Only a jealous, petty fool, that’s who. “Fine,” he forc
ed himself to mutter, pivoting on his heel to lead them back down the corridor. Baine had taught him the benefits of using his brain rather than his brawn. Right now, he needed to concentrate on what he’d learned from those lessons. It was the best way to protect Blayze. “Follow me.”
Blayze quickened her step to walk at his side, the pulsing heat of Bolt slamming into Char’s back as the odd trio moved in silence through the torchlit hall.
They followed the curve of the corridor, before Char led them through an arched opening.
“Where are we going?” Blayze asked in confusion.
They traveled across the open space that was used for training. Bare floor. Bare ceiling. Weapons lining the walls.
“This is the area used by Synge’s warriors,” Char explained.
Blayze continued to look confused. “You think the servant is a guard?”
Char shook his head. “No, but there is a connecting door into the servants’ quarters.”
She tilted her head to the side, regarding him with a questioning glance. “Why go in the back way?”
“The servants aren’t used to having guests strolling around in this area,” Char pointed out. “It might alert the traitor that something is wrong.”
“He makes a sound point,” Bolt said. “Our presence will attract unwanted attention.”
Char pressed his lips together. He wanted to tell Bolt that he didn’t need his damned approval. Unfortunately, he’d already used up his quota for acting like a peevish hatchling. Time to be a big boy and concentrate on destroying the bastard who held the curse.
Blayze glanced around the empty space as they moved from the training area to the sleeping area. “Where are the guards?”
“They’re all on duty in other parts of the lair,” he said. “Synge is more concerned with the guests in the throne room than what’s happening with the servants.”
She gave a slow nod. “Okay. I guess that makes sense.”
They moved past the barrack-styled cots and out a narrow back entrance. There was a hallway that led to the bathing area in one direction, and in the opposite direction was the entrance to the servants’ main quarters.
Char slowed as the air became spiced with the thickening scent of fey and several lesser demons who served Synge.
“How close do you need to be?” he asked in a low voice.
Blayze gave a lift of her hands. “I don’t know. I’ve never used my magic like this before.”
Char grimaced. The last thing he wanted was for Blayze to be near the servant responsible for destroying her life, but he didn’t know how else for her to sense the curse. “Through here.”
He led them into the dark alcove that offered a view of the large courtyard. It wasn’t as stark as the guards’ room, but it was still plain, with a few benches, and a table in the center of the floor.
Fewer than a handful of servants were in the courtyard. Some eating a late dinner, and others strolling around the open space before returning to their duties.
Beyond the courtyard was an arched opening that led to the sleeping quarters, but Char was hoping they could remain hidden in the shadows.
“Well?” he asked softly.
Blayze closed her eyes, her hands clutched at her side. Then she sucked in a startled breath. “The curse is here.”
His heart jumped with a fierce surge of hope. Whether they got back to their time or not, the first priority was ensuring that they got rid of the curse.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Can you tell who has it?”
She took a minute, her gaze skimming over the handful of servants. At last she pointed at a slender male wearing Synge’s dark green uniform.
“There. The vampire.”
Char studied the male. He was average height with brown hair smoothed into a tail at his nape. His features were pale, and carved into stern lines. Char didn’t recognize him.
Which meant he wasn’t a servant of Synge’s when Char had been in the lair.
Bolt moved to stand at Blayze’s side. Char clenched his teeth. No punching the dragon, he silently reminded himself.
“Flynn?” Bolt demanded.
Char glanced toward the dragon. “You know him?”
Bolt arched a brow—a silent reminder that he was a pureblood and above rubbing elbows with the riffraff.
“I know that he is one of the servants Synge uses to collect his tithes from the orcs,” he said.
Char glanced back at Flynn. The male possessed the arrogant expression of all vampires, but it was the sneer on his thin lips and the way that he held himself aloof from the others that revealed he thought he was far too good to be a servant.
“Not a high position,” Char murmured. Many demons petitioned dragons for favors, and in return they were asked to pay a tithe. They rarely realized that they would be paying for the rest of eternity. Those servants most favored were sent to collect the tithes from the fey or harpies. The least favored were stuck with orcs and trolls. “Perhaps Magma promised a more prestigious place in his lair.”
“Possible,” Bolt agreed.
Blayze ignored both of them. Her attention was focused like a laser on the vampire.
“I’m going to kill him,” she rasped, taking a step forward.
Char reached out to grasp her upper arm, bringing her to a sharp halt. “Hold on, Xena, Warrior Princess. You can’t just charge in there,” he warned.
She turned her head to glare at him. “Why not?”
He brushed his hand lightly over her cheek, hoping his touch would help to ease her fury. He sympathized with her urge to destroy the vampire. He was feeling his own share of bloodlust.
But they needed to think clearly.
They were too close to risk failure now.
“If he has the vessel containing the curse on him, he’ll cast it to protect himself,” he said, as much to remind himself not to do something stupid as to keep her at his side. “Which means all of this will be for nothing.”
She scowled. “Then what do you suggest?”
He’d already considered the best way to approach the servant if they managed to track him down.
“I’ll go in and lure him out,” he said. “No one will question my presence.”
Her scowl remained. “How will you lure him?”
Without warning, Bolt stepped forward. “I will do it.”
Char sent him a frustrated glare. Was the male trying to play the hero in front of Blayze? Or was he one of those dragons who always had to be in charge?
“We just established that a pureblood would cause too much chaos,” Char reminded him, an edge in his voice.
Bolt tilted back his head so he could peer down the length of his nose. “I am soon to become a member of Synge’s clan,” he drawled. “Flynn would have no choice but to agree to follow me if I said that Synge had need of him in the throne room.”
Char hissed at the reminder that Bolt was about to become formally betrothed to Blayze. Then, with a valiant effort, he forced himself to ignore the deliberate provocation.
He couldn’t afford distractions until the vampire was dead.
After that he would worry about how he was going to deal with his dragon’s determination to claim Blayze as his own.
He offered a stiff nod of his head. Bolt was right. The vampire would have no choice but to follow him if Bolt told him that Synge had need of his services.
“Give us time to set up an ambush,” he commanded.
Bolt waved a dismissive hand. “I do not need your assistance to kill a vampire.”
Char’s lips parted, but before he could speak, Blayze was moving to stand directly in front of the dragon.
“Bolt, he is holding a powerful curse that destroyed my family,” she softly murmured, laying her hand on his arm. “You would have no protection if he cast it in your direction. We must catch him off guard.”
Bolt’s jaw jutted forward, but he had no defense against Blayze’s pleading gaze.
He finally conceded defeat. “If you insist.”
“I do,” she said.
Char moved, placing a possessive arm around her shoulders. At the same time, he tugged her away from the dragon. He was trying to remain focused on the danger, but there was no need for any touching between the two dragons.
“Give us time to find the best place for an attack,” he warned.
Bolt glanced toward Blayze before offering a grudging nod.
Char clenched his teeth and urged her to head back out the way they came. Acting like an adult was proving to be harder than he expected.
Almost as if determined to rub salt in his open wounds, Blayze glanced over her shoulder. “I hope he doesn’t do anything stupid,” she whispered.
Char felt his stomach clench, his dragon sulking at her concerned expression. “You’re worried about him.”
Obviously sensing his annoyance, she sent him a chiding glance. “I certainly don’t want anything bad to happen to him.”
“I see.”
She heaved a small sigh. “Char—”
“We need to hurry,” he interrupted, pausing to make sure there was no one in the corridor before they stepped out of the guardroom.
They moved at a quick pace, a growing sense of urgency tingling through Char.
“Bolt has no more interest in being my mate than I have in being his,” she abruptly said, easily keeping up with his long strides.
He tried to concentrate on his surroundings. Just because the vampire was behind them, that didn’t mean there wasn’t some potential danger lurking just ahead.
In fact, it was almost guaranteed.
But there was no way he could resist a quick glance at Blayze’s delicate profile.
There was only so much adulting a poor half-dragon could do.
“He told you that?”
“He didn’t have to,” she assured him. “I could sense he’s already given his heart to another.”
His gaze snapped back to the shadows ahead of them, his lips thinning.
“Dragons don’t follow their hearts when it comes to their mate,” he reminded her.
Her fingers brushed down his back. “Some of us do.”
Oh, hell. His insides felt all gooey. As if she’d melted him with her dragon-fire.
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