Guardians of Eternity 03 - Darkness Everlasting

by Alexandra Ivy

  "Such a charming name."

  Panic threatened to rise before Styx firmly gained control of his senses.

  No. It wasn't possible. Styx wasn't sure how Desmond managed to learn of Darcy, but there was no way he could get his filthy hands on her.

  This was nothing more than a ploy to provoke him into doing something stupid.

  Well, something even more stupid than charging into a blatant trap set by a vampire with a God complex and his band of idiotic merry men.

  "Yes, and safely under the protection of the Phoenix," Styx drawled. "Or did you intend to battle the goddess?"

  "Certainly not." The man possessed the nerve to smirk. Jackass. "Thankfully you made sure that such a horrible fate would not be necessary."

  "I ..." Infuriated by the mere suggestion that he would somehow endanger Darcy, Styx came to a sudden halt. Abruptly he realized how the vampire had known of Darcy. And how he had known exactly the moment that he would be with Viper so that he could be easily lured into tracking the renegades to this house. "Your clansmen," he rasped with a flare of self-disgust.

  "Precisely," the soon-to-be-dead vampire drawled. "By believing their pathetic story and putting them in Dante's home you gave them the perfect opportunity to discover your every weakness. And, of course, the perfect means of capturing your beloved Darcy. Even now they are collecting her so that she can join us during this momentous occasion."

  Styx slowly sank to his knees as a cold lethal fury raced through him.

  Later he would have the opportunity to punish himself for having been so easily fooled by his enemies. There would no doubt be years of brooding and self-recriminations and cold-blooded plans to ensure he never repeated such a mistake. That was, after all, what he did best.

  For now, however, he was utterly consumed by a rage that had no bounds.

  Desmond's one miscalculation in his elaborate scheme was in the fact that Styx was newly mated.

  He was not the cold, calculating Anasso who would consider his situation with a detached logic. That Styx would easily realize that he was outgunned, outnumbered, and outmaneuvered. He would understand that the most sensible means of keeping Darcy safe would be to concede to the vampire's demands.

  This Styx was a rabid animal who only knew that his mate was in danger and that he would kill anything and everything that stood in his path.

  Feeling the power beginning to thunder through his body, Styx glanced up as Jacob returned from the house with the pen and paper clutched in his meaty hands.

  Unaware he was mere moments from death, Desmond smiled as he glanced down at the kneeling Styx.

  "Well, Styx, it appears that your ruling days are about to come to an end. Do you have any last words?"

  The wind began to whip and the ground shake as Styx slowly rose to his feet.

  "Just one." His hand lifted toward the growingly puzzled face of his opponent. "Die."

  Chapter Twenty

  A peaceful hush bathed the elegant mansion. Well, the peace bathed all but Darcy's luxurious rooms.

  Realizing that she would be getting no more sleep until Styx had safely returned, Darcy had foolishly allowed herself to be lured into a game of checkers with Levet.

  Both of them were seated cross-legged on the bed as Darcy studied the board with a sudden frown. She was no master player, and her attention had been more finely tuned on listening for the return of Styx than on the pieces on the board. Still, she was not so poor a player, or so deeply distracted, that she couldn't tell when she was being well and truly swindled.

  Lifting her head, she flashed her tiny companion a frown. "You cheated."

  "Moi?" Levet pressed a gnarled hand to his chest in mock outrage. "Do not be absurd. Why would I cheat when I am so obviously the superior player?"

  "Superior? Ha." Darcy pointed toward the board. "I was kicking your ass."

  Levet gave a small sniff. "I am wounded, cherie. Mortally wounded."

  "What you are is a low-down cheat," Darcy corrected. "Each time I glance toward the window you move the pieces on the board."

  "Pooh. I have never heard such slander. My honor is above reproach."

  "Then how did you get kinged when you haven't even made it across the board?"

  Levet gave a flap of his wings that sent the pieces flying off the board and across the bed in a shower of plastic color.

  "Checkers, fah. Such a stupid game," he complained as he hopped off the bed and paced the carpet. "What we need is a real challenge."

  Absently collecting the checkers and returning them to their box, Darcy shot her companion a suspicious glance.

  She didn't know much about gargoyles, but she suspected that Levet's idea of a challenge and her own might be worlds apart.

  "What kind of challenge?"

  "Something that takes real skill. Something that demands both a keen intelligence and the talent of a well-honed athlete." Pace, pace, pace. Back and forth the tiny gargoyle crossed the carpet until at last coming to a halt with a snap of his fingers. A rather neat trick with fingers as thick and gnarly as his. "Aha, I have it."

  Setting aside the checkers, Darcy scooted to the edge of the bed. "I'm afraid to ask."

  "Bowling."

  Darcy blinked and then gave a startled laugh. "Good grief. You've got to be kidding."

  "What?" Levet puffed out his chest. "Bowling is an ancient and noble sport. The sport of kings, in fact."

  "I thought that was chess."

  Levet offered a superior lift of his brows. "And just how many kings have you known?"

  Kings, yeah right.

  There were all sorts of royalty hanging out in Goth bars and cheap boardinghouses.

  "Let me think. Ah ..." Darcy pretended to consider. "That would be none."

  Levet gave a smirky flap of his wings. "I, on the other hand, have known hundreds of kings. Some of them quite intimately."

  Darcy held up a hand. "Okay, we're going into the realm of way too much information."

  "Very droll." Levet rolled his eyes. "By intimate I mean that I graced their castles for several centuries. You would be amazed what an enterprising demon can learn when perched outside a bedroom window."

  Darcy grimaced. "Ick, I can imagine."

  "Of course, when it came to the queens, well, let's us just say that my intimacy was—"

  "Enough." Darcy firmly interrupted. She wasn't up for a detailed account of gargoyle sexcapades. Not tonight. Not any night. "I'm not going bowling."

  Levet planted his hands on his hips and stuck out his bottom lip. Great. A pouting demon.

  "Have you ever tried it?" he demanded.

  Darcy shivered before she could halt the betraying gesture. "When I was a teenager."

  Easily sensing her unhappy memories, Levet moved forward with a curious expression. "What happened?"

  "The first ball I threw went through the back of the alley." She smiled with a grim humor. "The manager asked me to leave immediately, and later that night so did my foster parents."

  Levet made a soft sound as his pretty wings suddenly drooped with regret.

  "Oh, Darcy, I'm sorry."

  She shrugged. "Shit happens."

  "Yes." He screwed up his face. "It certainly does."

  Darcy gave a small chuckle as she shrugged off the ugly memory. Somehow, when Levet was near things didn't seem nearly so bad.

  On the point of suggesting a rousing game of hopscotch or "toss the gargoyle from the roof and see if he can really fly," Darcy felt a strange prickle race over her skin.

  She turned toward the door absolutely certain that there was someone moving down the hall.

  Two someones.

  Both vampires.

  She could ... smell them, dammit. Even through the thick walls and heavy door.

  Obviously she had been spending way, way too much time in the company of demons.

  "Someone's coming," she murmured softly.

  Levet briefly closed his eyes before snapping them back open with a frown.


  "The two vamps whom Styx has taken under his protection." His nose was still clearly better than hers. Or perhaps he possessed other mystical, magical means of peering through the wall. "I thought that Dante had ordered them to hide in the tunnels until their chief is eliminated."

  "Eliminated?" Darcy wrinkled her nose. Werewolf or not, she would never become accustomed to casual killing. "Yeesh."

  Levet flashed a wicked smile. "Offed? Poofed? Gone to the big blood bank in the . . ."

  "Levet," she hissed as she moved to the door and pulled it open. The two vampires were indeed standing just outside, the pale faces expressionless and their bodies eerily still. Like two mannequins propped in position, she acknowledged with a tiny shiver. For some reason their presence . . . troubled her. As if there was something brewing beneath those frozen faces that they were taking care not to reveal.

  Her hand tightened on the door even as she attempted to dismiss her strange desire to slam it shut. Not only was she being ridiculous, but a mere door would never halt a determined vampire. Instead, she forced a smile to her lips.

  "Yes?"

  They bowed in unison, although the tall, dark-haired woman managed to straighten far faster than the hulking blond Viking.

  "Mistress, forgive our intrusion," the woman said in a cool, flat tone.

  Mistress? Well, that was a new one.

  "You're not intruding. Can I help you?"

  The tall male, with a long, blond braid and broad face, took a slight step forward.

  "We received word from the Anasso."

  Darcy lifted a hand to press it to her racing heart. "From Styx?"

  "Yes."

  "He's here?"

  "No, he has dealt with the traitor and now has returned to his lair," the man said, his tone as flat as his expression. "He wishes us to accompany you so that you may join him there."

  Darcy frowned. It wasn't like Styx to send others to do his bidding. Especially when it came to her. If he wanted her near then he came to her; he didn't send someone to fetch her like she was a dog.

  "Why didn't he just come back and get me himself?" she demanded.

  The Viking appeared momentarily baffled. As if the question was too much for his poor brain to process.

  With a smooth ease the female stepped into the awkward breech.

  "I fear he was... injured during the battle," she said.

  "Injured?"

  Darcy's knees went weak as a dark wave of panic threatened to cloud her mind. Styx, hurt? No. Oh lord, no. She couldn't bear it.

  She had to ...

  In the midst of trying to clear her mind and consider precisely what she needed to do, her panic was pierced by an odd sensation. The feeling that this couldn't be right. That she would know with absolute certainty if Styx was hurt.

  When she thought of Styx, what she experienced was a ... vibration. Like the hum of an angry bee.

  Styx was flat-out furious. She could sense nothing of physical pain.

  A rough hand touched her arm and she glanced down into Levet's concerned eyes.

  "Are you all right, Darcy?" he demanded.

  "Yes ... I ..." She gave a shake of her head and forced her attention back to the waiting vampires. "How badly is he injured?"

  The woman gave a lift of her slender hand. "I cannot say. I only know that he wishes you to be with him."

  Levet's fingers squeezed on Darcy's arm. "Don't worry, cherie. I will go with you."

  "No."

  Darcy blinked at the Viking's abrupt refusal. "Why not?"

  "The master said nothing of bringing the gargoyle. You must come alone."

  Okay, her shitmeter was starting to tilt.

  None of this made sense.

  If Styx was hurt why wouldn't he have come back here? Not only was Dante here, but there was an honest to goodness goddess in the house. Where could he possibly go that would be better protected?

  And even if he was at some other lair, why would he send these two vampires to bring her to him?

  He had five Ravens whom she knew and trusted to escort her.

  She covertly inched back, her hand gripping the door. "Where are Shay and Abby?"

  There was a beat before the woman gave a slow blink. They are below attending to Viper."

  "He was injured as well?"

  The Viking gave a low growl. "We must be on our way. Dawn will all too soon be approaching."

  Darcy inched another step back, her gaze on the woman. "How did he contact you?"

  Blink, blink, blink. "I beg your pardon?"

  "Styx. How did he contact you?"

  "He sent a messenger."

  "I want to speak with this messenger."

  "Enough," the Viking growled, his fangs flashing. "Take her."

  The words were still leaving his lips when Darcy slammed the door shut and snapped the lock in place.

  With a squeak of surprise, Levet looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

  "Darcy?"

  "Something's not right," she breathed, pressing her hands against the door as the vampires on the other side struggled to break through.

  "No shit," Levet muttered, moving to add his own strength to the shivering door. "You must run. This door won't last long."

  "No way."

  He gave a low curse. "Martyrs are tedious creatures, Darcy. Get the hell out of here."

  Darcy gritted her teeth and dug in her heels as she battled next to Levet to hold the door shut. She didn't think for a minute that she could face off against two vampires and survive. Hell, she didn't think she could manage to land a good punch. But she wasn't about to run off and leave Levet.

  "I don't bail on my friends," she muttered as the wood shuddered beneath her hands. Soon enough the door would shatter and then the fun would begin.

  With his arms bulging beneath the strain, the demon glared into her determined expression.

  "Sane bleu, vampires cannot hurt me if I shift. Not even their fangs are sharp enough to chew through stone."

  He had a point. A damn good point, but Darcy was nothing if not stubborn.

  "I won't leave you."

  "You're only in my way." Levet gave a grunt as a hinge popped from the door and flew a mere inch from his face. "I have several spectacular spells I have been longing to cast, but I can hardly perform them while you are standing here watching me."

  "Why not?"

  He sent her a glance filled with grim warning. "Performance issues. Just go."

  A subtle glow began to surround the small gray form and Darcy forced herself to back away. She still had vivid memories of the spectacular explosion that had ripped through the air when she had been sneaking into the estate. If Levet had anything of that sort of magic in mind, then she had to agree that she didn't want to be anywhere near when things started shaking.

  And in all honesty, if she was gone, then Levet would be free to turn into statue form. As he had pointed out, not even vampires could harm him once he shifted to stone.

  Ignoring the sharp pang of guilt, Darcy turned on her heel and headed for the window. With the door blocked by rabid vampires, the window was the only exit. Besides, what quicker method of getting downstairs to alert Abby that her home was harboring traitors.

  Crossing her arms over her head, Darcy hit the window with a burst of speed that launched her through the glass and into the frigid night air. She grunted as jagged shards ripped through her skin, but her attention was far more focused on the hard ground that was rapidly rising up to meet her. Cuts and bruises, no matter how deep, she could heal in a matter of hours. A broken neck .. . not so much.

  Flailing her limbs as if she could fly—not a talent generally associated with werewolves—Darcy did manage to twist enough in the air so that she ended up landing on her back, rather than her head. A small comfort, though, since the landing punched the air from her lungs and sent a shock of pain through her body.

  Gripes.

  With a moan she forced herself to rise to her feet. It was a
surprise to discover she could actually accomplish the task. She was bleeding from a dozen wounds, bruised beyond bearing, and her head was pounding, but she didn't seem to have one broken bone or busted internal organ.

  The night was looking up.

  Glancing toward the house, she was on the point of deciding where the nearest door might be when there was the faintest sound behind her.

  She whirled about quite prepared for anything to charge out of the dark.

  Vampire, werewolf, holy deity . . .

  Lions and tigers and bears.

  Tensing as she prepared to deal with the latest disaster, Darcy felt her mouth fall open as a slender woman walked from behind an ancient oak.

  Despite the cloaking darkness, Darcy had no trouble making out the silver blond hair that swirled about her shoulders and the green eyes that held an unmistakable glow.

  Pure shock held her motionless as the woman moved with a liquid grace to stand directly before her.

  This was a moment Darcy had dreamed of every night for the past thirty years.

  It was her most secret hope come to life.

  Now she struggled to accept that this could possibly be real.

  "Mother?" she at last whispered in disbelief.

  "Yes, darling, I am indeed your mother." A smile touched the features that were so eerily like her own.

  "How very thoughtful of you to drop at my feet. It saves me a great deal of effort."

  "What..."

  Utterly bemused Darcy never saw her mother moving. Not even when her arm lifted.

  It wasn't until her fist actually connected with Darcy's chin that she realized that sometimes dreams and reality were not always the same.

  Darcy tumbled back onto the cold, frozen ground as the waiting darkness flooded her mind.

  Yeah, reality was a bitch.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Pointing his finger directly at the heart of his enemy, Styx could feel the air crackle with the frozen blaze of his fury.

  In the distance he could sense the sharp agitation of the circling vampires, could smell their unease, and hear the sound of fingers tightening on the crossbows.

  None of that mattered.

  The world had narrowed to the gaunt vampire who stood directly before him.

  A vampire who had lost his smug smile and was regarding Styx with a new wariness.