When Darkness Ends

by Alexandra Ivy

  And if he forced himself to be entirely honest, there was a part of him that was suddenly remembering that the prince she’d so recently intended to marry was going to be far too near for Cyn’s peace of mind.

  It wasn’t that he was jealous . . .

  Oh hell. Of course he was jealous.

  Fallon could say all she wanted about her engagement being nothing more than a duty, but the fact was that she’d been planning to spend the rest of eternity with the too-pretty prince.

  What if Magnus had a change of heart?

  What if he decided that he wanted to reclaim Fallon as his fiancée?

  The mere thought made his fangs ache to rip a chunk out of the prince of priss.

  “We don’t know that your fiancé won’t decide to cause trouble,” he muttered, his tone sour.

  She gave a startled blink. “What could he do?”

  “I don’t want him anywhere near you.”

  Something that might have been disappointment darkened the magnificent amber of her eyes.

  “You don’t trust me?”

  Shit.

  Realizing he’d managed to wound her, Cyn stalked forward, cupping her chin to force her to meet his fierce gaze.

  “More than I’ve ever trusted anyone in my very long life,” he said. “But right now I can’t allow you out of my sight.”

  She studied his tense expression. “I don’t understand.”

  He knew better than to try to explain that a vampire on the cusp of mating was like a rabid animal when a male tried to get to close to his woman.

  She already knew that vampires could be savage creatures. He didn’t want to terrify her with his inner berserker.

  “You will,” he promised, lowering his head to press a quick kiss to her lips before he was straightening to regard her with a brooding gaze. “We should go.”

  She gave a shake of her head, pulling away from his grasp to head out of the room.

  “I’m beginning to suspect that testosterone does strange things to the male mind.”

  “You have no idea,” he muttered, following her out of her private rooms and down the stairs.

  He’d adamantly insisted that she open the portal in the foyer. When she’d traveled to bring Styx to the lair, she’d been followed by her fiancé. If Magnus made a sudden appearance in her bedroom, there was nothing that would keep him from shredding the bastard into small, unrecognizable princely parts.

  Now, as they moved down the stairs, he realized there was an added bonus to his demand of using the foyer.

  The sexy sway of her hips as she took each step.

  Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Fallon moved to stand in the center of the paneled foyer, the firelight highlighting the beauty of her delicate features.

  A faint smile touched her lips as she glanced toward the flickering flames, no doubt aware that he’d made certain that there were fires in every room of his vast lair.

  He should have known the minute he began fretting over whether or not she was cold that he was in danger, he wryly acknowledged.

  She made no comment, instead raising her hand to form the portal. Cyn waited until she gestured for him to approach, then, squashing his instinctive dislike for magic, he grabbed her fingers in a tight grip.

  There was a sensation of nothingness, then a darkness surrounded him. He clenched his teeth, convinced that he could feel prickles of electricity dancing over his skin despite the fact he couldn’t sense magic.

  Only seconds later the darkness was abruptly replaced by a shadowed, tree-lined street that was covered by a new layer of snow.

  Cyn sent a swift glance around, making sure there was nothing but the lone vampire who was waiting for them in front of Styx’s front gate.

  At last certain there was nothing about to leap out of the shadows, Cyn turned his attention to the raven-haired vampire who was watching him with a mocking silver gaze.

  “Dante.”

  The vampire moved forward to slap Cyn on the shoulder, a smile on his finely chiseled features.

  “It’s been a long time, my friend.”

  “Too long,” Cyn said, grinning as he ran a glance over Dante’s casual black jeans and shit-kickers. Long before Dante had been captured by the witches and made the guardian of the Phoenix, they’d traveled through Europe, indulging in every vice they could discover. “I have yet to meet your mate.”

  Dante shook his head, the pair of golden hoops hanging from his earlobes catching the moonlight.

  “I’m not sure I want you to,” he said. “I haven’t forgotten your fatal attraction to women.”

  Cyn rolled his eyes. Dante hadn’t been hurting for women. They’d found his bad-boy vibe absurdly exciting. But, of course, the annoying vampire had to remind Fallon of Cyn’s unfortunately exaggerated reputation.

  Predictably the princess made a sound of resignation. “Is there anyone who doesn’t know about your unsavory habits?”

  Flipping off the laughing Dante, Cyn fixed his attention on the female at his side.

  “They weren’t unsavory.”

  “No?”

  He grimaced at her disbelieving expression.

  “Okay, they might have been a tad unsavory, but they’re in the past.”

  “The scourge of Europe has been tamed?” Dante drawled.

  Cyn glared at his friend. “You aren’t helping.”

  “Payback’s a bitch.”

  “Payback for what?”

  Dante lifted a dark brow. “Surely you haven’t forgotten those twin nymphs in St. Petersburg who you—”

  “Enough,” Cyn growled. He was going to have to have several long, painful conversations with his fellow vampires about sharing unnecessary stories about his past. “Are you ready?”

  Dante’s smile faded, his gaze flicking toward the massive house hidden behind the high gate.

  “Yes, I don’t want to leave Abby alone for long.”

  “Isn’t she inside?” he demanded in surprise. Dante rarely left his mate behind.

  Dante shrugged. “Yes, but most demons are too terrified to stay in the same room with her, including the Ravens.”

  Ah. He’d assumed that Dante had chosen to live in a remote lair outside Chicago because he wanted to be alone with his new mate. After all, Cyn fully intended to make his castle off-limits to stray visitors once he’d convinced Fallon they were destined to be together.

  He hadn’t actually considered how difficult it might be for demons, including his fellow vampires, to make casual chitchat with Abby. As the vessel for the Goddess of Light, she could fry them all to a smudge of ash without breaking a sweat.

  “Styx isn’t here?” Cyn asked, knowing that the Anasso would never allow Abby to feel unwelcomed.

  “No, he just left for St. Louis to retrieve his mate.” The wicked humor returned to sparkle in Dante’s silver eyes. “He was muttering something about cold beds and mangy werewolves who lure females from their mates with a litter of babies.”

  “Poor bloke.” Cyn gave a shake of his head. There weren’t many things worse than having Weres as in-laws . . . Wait. He grimaced, suddenly recalling his own potential in-laws. He didn’t doubt for a minute that the King of Chatri would do everything in his power to take Fallon away. Including trying to kill him. He squared his shoulders. A worry for another day. “Ready?” he asked Dante.

  “Yes.”

  Grabbing his friend’s arm, he reached for Fallon’s hand, shivering as they were instantly surrounded in the electric darkness of her portal.

  Seconds later they were once again standing in his foyer.

  Cyn shook off the momentary disorientation at being yanked through dimensions, and glanced toward Fallon who was calmly studying Dante as if she hauled vampires around on a regular basis.

  Cyn, on the other hand, was already growing twitchy at having Dante so close to his potential mate.

  It didn’t matter that his friend was already bound to another female. Or that Fallon wasn’t the sort of female to gi
ve herself to more than one man.

  Until he completed the mating, his instincts were set on “kill now, ask questions later” mode.

  Cursing at the unwelcome violence that trembled through his body, Cyn swiftly headed toward his library. Behind him, he could sense Dante and Fallon trying to keep pace with his long strides, but they thankfully didn’t demand to know why he was doing the speed-walking routine.

  At last they entered the library, and Cyn moved to the desk where he’d left the scroll given to him by Siljar.

  “Damn,” Dante muttered behind him, turning in a slow circle as he inspected the shelves that towered two stories and the ceiling that had been painted with a Greek fresco. “Why the hell did you keep this such a secret?”

  “Did you think I was going to allow a bunch of demons who were barely housebroken to trash my books?”

  “Hey, I was housebroken.”

  Cyn snorted. “Which is why you destroyed my favorite tapestry when you used it for target practice?”

  Dante sent Fallon a sorrowful glance. “How do you endure living with him?”

  A flustered heat stained her cheeks. “Oh, I don’t . . . I mean—”

  “This is the spell,” Cyn interrupted her embarrassed stutter, moving to hand the scroll to his friend.

  Dante glanced down, a frown tugging his brows together. “I can’t read hieroglyphs,” he at last muttered, lifting his head to meet Cyn’s steady gaze. “That’s Roke’s expertise. And you know more about the fey than any other vampire I’ve met. I’m not sure how I can help.”

  “I’m hoping you can give me information on another spell.”

  Dante handed the rolled-up parchment back to Cyn. “I’m listening.”

  “You battled witches who tried to destroy demons.”

  A chill entered the air as Dante’s expression became stony. “I did, along with Abby.”

  “They used magic?”

  “Yes.”

  “How did they cast it?”

  Dante moved to pour himself a glass of whiskey, still clearly raw from the battle. It didn’t matter if it was hours, months, or centuries ago, a male didn’t get over seeing his mate in danger.

  “They captured Abby, intending to use the power of the Phoenix.”

  Cyn watched his friend toss back the drink, regretting the need to bring up such difficult memories. It was only because he couldn’t shake the suspicion that this was somehow connected that he was forcing the issue.

  “Why did they need the Goddess of Light?”

  Dante shrugged. “Not even an entire coven of witches working together could achieve the power needed to cast that particular spell.” A cold smile twisted his lips. “Unfortunately for them the Phoenix was in no mood to cooperate. She zapped the bitches.”

  Cyn had heard the basic story of Abby’s ability to destroy the witches, but he needed a firsthand account of the details.

  “What was involved in casting the spell?”

  “I wasn’t there for all of it.” The temperature plunged another twenty degrees and Cyn could see Fallon shiver, a golden glow surrounding her as she used her natural powers to warm herself. Cyn felt a ridiculous prick of annoyance. It wasn’t that he wanted her to be cold, but he’d taken pride in making sure his lair was always warm enough for her to be comfortable. Dante set aside his empty glass, unaware he was causing Fallon discomfort. “According to Abby, the Queen Bee of the coven, Edra, strapped her to an altar and put a small amulet on her chest,” he grimly explained. “The witch said it would draw on the power of the Phoenix.”

  Cyn arched a brow.

  That sounded way too easy.

  “That was all there was to casting the spell?”

  “No.” Dante’s expression twisted with disgust. “She’d sacrificed one of her own witches. Like most dark magic, this one demanded blood.”

  Fallon stepped forward, far more familiar with all this hocus-pocus than Cyn.

  “The amulet would focus the magic and the blood would be the catalyst.”

  Dante nodded. “Exactly.” He sent a curious glance toward Cyn. “You want to tell me what all this is about?”

  “Siljar will have my ass,” Cyn growled. “But I need your help.”

  Dante grimaced. “This is Oracle business?”

  “Aye. It seems that someone, perhaps more than one, has been manipulating the Commission.”

  Dante looked shocked. “Impossible.”

  “My word exactly,” Cyn said in dry tones. “Siljar, however, is convinced that they’re being coerced into performing this spell.”

  Dante’s gaze lowered to the scroll in Cyn’s hand. “Does she have a suspicion of what the spell is supposed to do?”

  “One designed to shut down any travel between dimensions.”

  Dante looked confused. “Why would the Oracles want to do that?”

  It was Fallon who answered. “They’ve been tricked into believing that it’s a simple cleansing spell.”

  Dante muttered a curse. “Manipulating the entire Commission takes some serious mojo.”

  “No shit,” Cyn muttered.

  “What happens if they complete the spell?” Dante asked.

  Cyn tossed the spell on his desk. “Demons die.”

  Dante looked more resigned than surprised. “Sounds familiar.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Cyn glanced toward his vast collection of books. He had thousands that spoke of fey powers, but very few that concentrated on human magic-users. He gave a frustrated shake of his head. “Did any of the witches survive your battle?”

  “A few,” Dante admitted. “You suspect they might be involved?”

  Cyn gave a restless lift of his shoulder. He didn’t know what the hell he suspected.

  Only that he couldn’t shake his sense of déjà vu.

  “It’s difficult to know, but I think we should consider the possibility,” he said. “What happened to the spell books?”

  “If any were bound to Edra they would have been destroyed when she died.” Dante reminded Cyn of the witches’ habit of magically connecting themselves to their most private papers so they would turn to ash the moment of their death. “But to be honest, they were the last of my concern.”

  “Understandable.” Cyn nodded toward the spell on his desk. “But it would be nice to know if they had the same hieroglyphics.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sensing Cyn’s rising frustration, Fallon briskly headed toward the desk. Sitting in the large wooden seat she pulled out a piece of paper and pen.

  She didn’t have any battle skills, or special magic that could help reveal the identity of the magic-user. But she’d trained her entire life to bring order out of chaos.

  Okay, her chaos usually included fairy balls and complicated seating arrangements, but still, the principle was the same.

  Watching her with a lift of his brows, Cyn leaned against the edge of the desk.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Making a list,” she said, trying not to feel foolish.

  If she couldn’t scry to track down the human, she had to do something.

  His brows inched higher. “A list?”

  She held his curious gaze. “I’m a princess. That’s what we do.”

  Dante choked back a laugh. “Princess, eh? Aiming high, my friend.”

  Cyn ignored the other vampire, his attention remaining fixed on Fallon.

  “A list of what?”

  “What seems to be similar between the two spells.” She put the pen to paper and began to write. “Both are designed to specifically affect demons, both are performed by human magic-users, and both need a large power source to complete them.” She glanced up at Dante. “Would the Commission have the same power as a goddess?”

  “More,” he said without hesitation.

  “You sound certain,” Cyn said in surprise.

  Dante’s lips twisted into a humorless smile. “The Commission has more or less allowed Abby and I to live in peace. They would have h
er locked and isolated in some sort of prison if they weren’t certain that they can control her if necessary.”

  Cyn nodded. “True.”

  Dante tilted his head to the side. The dark-haired vampire was built on smaller lines than Cyn—of course, everyone but the Anasso was built on smaller lines—but there was no missing the lethal power that chilled the air around him.

  “What makes you believe that the person responsible is a magic-user?” he demanded.

  Cyn touched the spell that was lying next to Fallon’s arm. “This spell is fey in origin, but I suspect that it’s been altered by humans.”

  Dante clearly sensed there was more. “And?”

  Cyn hesitated, waiting for Fallon to give a small nod before revealing the talent she’d kept carefully hidden.

  “Fallon was scrying the Oracle’s caves and caught sight of a shrouded male sneaking through the back tunnels,” he said, unconsciously raising his hand to his chest where he’d been hit by the vicious spell. “We suspect he was performing some sort of magic.”

  “A Compulsion spell?” the vampire shrewdly deduced.

  Cyn shrugged. “That would be my guess.”

  Fallon frowned, abruptly realizing that they were missing an obvious flaw in their reasoning.

  “If the magic-user completed his spell and has the Commission under his sway, why is he waiting? Shouldn’t he be forcing the Oracles to close the dimensions?”

  “I was trapped by the witches for over three hundred years,” Dante said, his anger toward those who held him captive a tangible pulse in the air. “Controlling more than one person with compulsion is massively difficult. I know less than a dozen witches who are capable of compelling more than two or three humans at a time. To try and leash a dozen Oracles . . .” He shuddered. “It would take more power than I can even imagine.”

  Cyn tapped his finger on the smooth surface of the desk, clearly in deep thought.

  “Or several layers of lesser magic,” he at last said.

  Dante nodded. “Yes. That would make sense.”

  “You mean he performed the spell several times?” Fallon asked.

  “Aye,” Cyn agreed. “And each one tightens the magic-user’s control over the Oracles.”