Beyond the Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  The frigid power once again flared out, driving Salvatore to his knees. Grimly, he straightened. Another rib was cracked and his lung was punctured, but he’d rather be skinned alive than be on his knees before this abomination.

  “Bastard,” Briggs hissed. “The only rot among the Weres comes from your tainted blood. Mackenzie should have killed you the moment your claim to the throne was sensed.”

  Salvatore narrowed his gaze. It was obvious that the mysterious demon had plotted first with Mackenzie and then Briggs to keep Salvatore off the throne. But why? Was there something about him that threatened the creature?

  “Is that what your puppet master desires?” he demanded. “My death?”

  Briggs snorted. “Who doesn’t?”

  Good point. Salvatore had never bothered to win friends and influence people. He didn’t doubt there was a long line of demons who wanted his head on a platter. But this was more than just the regular run-of-the-mill death wish. This was an attack on the entire Were nation.

  “What does my death give him?” Salvatore stepped closer to Briggs, one arm wrapped around his injured chest. “And why use you as a flunky, instead of killing me himself? Is he scared of me?”

  “Scared?” Briggs made a dismissive motion, but Salvatore sensed the dark thread of doubt that flowed through the Were. Something Salvatore intended to use to his advantage. At least he intended to use it once he could find the damned coward. “You’re nothing more than a mistake that will soon be corrected.”

  “Empty promises,” he taunted. “That’s all you can offer.”

  The Were snarled. “I’m happy to make it a reality.”

  “Let’s do it.”

  “As you wish. You can find me here.”

  Salvatore swayed as Briggs roughly shoved the image of barren caves directly into his mind. He’d heard of the trick, but he hadn’t realized it burned like a bitch.

  “Cristo. You could have just given me the directions,” he growled.

  “I wouldn’t want you to get lost.” The demented Were smiled, clearly pleased with his cheesy parlor trick. “This way you have no excuse not to join me.”

  “No excuse beyond the fact that it’s an obvious trap,” Salvatore drawled. “When we meet, it will be at a location of my choosing.”

  “You’re not making the rules, Giuliani. I am.”

  “Have you forgotten who is the King of Weres?”

  Briggs took a threatening step forward before making a visible effort to control his temper.

  “You will join me, or each passing day I will kill one of your curs,” he warned, his lips curling in a malevolent satisfaction at Salvatore’s growl of shock. “Ah, yes. Did I forget to mention that I’ve arranged for your bodyguards to join me?”

  Alarm mixed with impotent fury as Salvatore recalled his futile attempts to reach Hess. Dammit. He’d stayed away from his curs to keep them safe.

  “Harm them and I swear I will rip you into so many tiny pieces not even your fairy godfather will be able to put you back together again,” he threatened, his voice thick with the hatred that poured like acid through his veins.

  Briggs backed away, his expression hardening as he realized he’d revealed his instinctive fear.

  “Don’t tarry, Giuliani,” he snapped. “Our reunion is long overdue.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Harley wasn’t entirely surprised when she opened her eyes to discover she was laying in an ivory-and-gold bedroom the size of most apartments. No, scratch that. The size of most family homes with attached garages.

  Scooting off the bed drenched in gold satin, she rubbed her butt that was still sore and headed directly to the tray of food that had been left beside a massive fireplace. She didn’t hesitate as she demolished the barbeque chicken, the mound of French fries, and coleslaw. She could smell the combination of vampire and Were without even a hint of bloodshed, which meant she could only be in one place.

  The Chicago mansion of the Anasso.

  The food had to be safe.

  Eager to replenish her strength, Harley polished off the entire plate, ignoring the fine bottle of wine and instead downed the pitcher of water.

  Only then did she take time to actually study her surroundings.

  Holy crap.

  Had there been a fire sale at Big Lots on marble? And crystal chandeliers? And Louis XIV furniture?

  Or had her sister been punk’d by the guys from Queer Eye for the Straight Guy?

  She was counting the number of sickeningly sweet cupids painted on the vaulted ceiling when she sensed the approach of a vampire. Turning, she squared her shoulders and prepared to meet her brother-in-law.

  Or at least, that was the plan.

  She wasn’t sure anyone could be prepared for the six-foot-six Aztec warrior with hair braided down his back, dressed in black leather and motorcycle boots. Just for a moment she was speechless as she studied the proud, angular face and dark gold eyes that held the sort of power usually only found at nuclear plants.

  He was terrifyingly beautiful.

  Then her gaze narrowed and her hands curled into fists.

  Dammit. She’d been knocked out for hours and hauled miles from Salvatore’s trail.

  Someone was going to pay.

  “A dart in the butt?” she gritted. “Really?”

  The King of Vampires was trained well enough to hide his amusement and instead managed to look just plain arrogant.

  “You left Santiago little choice.” Was this his lame-ass stab at making amends? “He did insist that I offer his apologies.”

  “Well, that makes it all better.” She tilted back her head to meet his piercing gaze. “I suppose you must be Styx?”

  “I am.”

  “Is my sister lurking nearby?”

  “She is downstairs, anxiously waiting for an opportunity to speak with you.” With unnerving speed he was standing directly in front of her, his nose flaring as if he were testing her scent. “I asked if I could have a few minutes alone with you first.”

  Harley stepped back, her hackles stirring at his sudden intrusion into her personal space.

  “Watch it, vampire. You might be some sort of relation in our twisted family tree, but that doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass.”

  He folded his arms over his massive chest, not particularly terrified by her threat.

  “I only want to ask a few questions.”

  “What questions?”

  He grimaced, looking oddly uncomfortable. “There is no delicate means of approaching this.”

  “You’ve already had me drugged and kidnapped,” she dryly pointed out. “There’s no need to pretend good manners at this late stage.”

  “Very well. Why do you carry Salvatore’s scent?”

  She choked at the blunt question. Surely there had to be some etiquette against random sniffing?

  “I can’t imagine how that’s any of your business.”

  “I’m not trying to intrude into your privacy, Harley.”

  “No?” Her humorless laugh echoed through the cavernous room that had grown cold with the vampire’s pulsing power. “God only knows what you would ask if you were trying to intrude. What does it matter to you what I smell like?”

  “Because it has been countless centuries since a werewolf has mated.” He towered over her; big, dark, and deadly. “You’ll have to forgive me if I wonder if this is a miracle or a hoax.”

  Her brows snapped together. “Why would I try to hoax you?”

  “Not you,” he gently corrected. “My suspicion is that someone or something is attempting to deceive Salvatore.”

  She froze, an unpleasant fear settling in the pit of her stomach.

  When Salvatore had alleged she was his mate, she had been shocked out of her mind. After all, great sex was one thing, but an eternal commitment was a little more than she wanted hanging over her head.

  So why did the thought that Salvatore’s bond might be no more than a scam on the King of Weres make her blood
run cold?

  Gritting her teeth, Harley pretended that an empty ache hadn’t bloomed in the center of her heart, and concentrated on the only thing that was important.

  Saving Salvatore from his own stupidity.

  “Briggs,” she muttered.

  Styx nodded. “Santiago mentioned the Were. Tell me what you know of him.”

  Harley ignored her instinctive bristling at his sharp command and revealed the bits and scraps she’d picked up of the perverted pureblood.

  Styx listened in silence, his expression settling into grim lines that oddly reminded her of Salvatore.

  Or perhaps not so oddly.

  They were both leaders who carried the weight of their people on their shoulders.

  The heavy sense of responsibility left its mark.

  “Only a demon lord should have the power to resurrect a dead Were.”

  “Demon lord?” She grimaced. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  Without warning, the ancient vampire turned to pace across the marble floor, his movements surprisingly fluid for such a large beast.

  “They are disciples of the dark prince, although few have shown an interest in this world since humans began to crawl from their caves.” His lips curled with disdain. Obviously the vampire wasn’t a big fan of demon lords. “And the few who continued to dabble among us lesser creatures were blocked entirely when the Phoenix was called into the Chalice.”

  “Phoenix? Chalice?” She shook her head. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

  “The Phoenix is the essence of a goddess who was brought into this world over three hundred years ago by a coven of witches.” His eyes flashed with a terrifying emotion. “Her presence blocks the dark prince and his minions from entering this dimension.”

  Harley took a wary step to the side as his pacing brought him within striking distance.

  “That seems like a good thing. What am I missing?”

  “The essence is held in a human female who becomes the Chalice of the goddess.”

  “A human?” She blinked in confusion. “Aren’t they a little fragile for such a task?”

  “The human is protected by the goddess.” His humorless smile revealed a set of kickass fangs. “Although the same coven who conjured the goddess weren’t content. They decided they needed a guardian who would never fail the Chalice, so they bound a vampire to her soul.”

  “Ah.” She grimaced. “I assume the vampire didn’t jump to the head of the line to volunteer?”

  “Not at the time, although he’s become reconciled to his position now that Abby is the new Chalice.” Styx’s expression eased. “They’ve recently mated.”

  Harley didn’t fully understand the whole goddess and Chalice thing, but she did grasp the most pertinent fact.

  “If Abby’s carrying this Goddess, then Briggs can’t be hooked up with a demon lord, right?”

  “I never underestimate a determined demon lord. They have the means to use others to accomplish their goals, and are always swift to take advantage of any weakness.” Styx came to an abrupt halt, the cool brush of his power making her shiver. “I need to speak with Abby.”

  “You think she’s falling down on the job?”

  He laughed with genuine amusement. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to point it out. Abby has the power to toast demons.”

  “Literally toast them?”

  “Literally.”

  Harley made a mental note to avoid the woman.

  “Why do you want to speak with her?”

  “I hope she can convince me that my fears are a figment of my imagination.”

  Harley’s heart plummeted and her mouth went dry at the dark edge of concern in his voice. What the hell would scare the King of Vampires?

  “Are demon lords so dangerous?”

  “There are many who believe they are our ultimate creators. Which means they could also be our ultimate destroyers.”

  Without thought, Harley was charging to the door. Crap. Crap. Crap. This was so much worse than a demented Were who refused to stay dead.

  “I have to warn Salvatore.”

  She heard the tiny tinkle of the bronzed medallions threaded through Styx’s braid, but she couldn’t track his movement until he was standing directly in front of her, blocking her path to the door.

  “Hold on, Harley.” He grabbed her arms as she attempted to dart around him. “This is nothing more than idle speculation. Jumping to conclusions is worse than doing nothing.”

  She struggled to free herself from his grasp, her temper exploding.

  “You wouldn’t be waffling if it was one of your precious vampires in danger,” she gritted. “You would be charging to the rescue.”

  A raven brow flicked upward. “I am not a vampire who waffles. I am attempting to discover who or what is threatening Salvatore, and if it poses a danger to other demons.”

  “Fine. You do whatever it is you have to do and I’ll be on my merry way.”

  “Where do you intend to go?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, it does.” He flashed a hint of fang. More out of annoyance than intimidation. Or at least, Harley hoped so. “Salvatore demanded my promise that I would keep you safe. I intend to honor my vow.”

  “It’s not his call. Or yours.” She jutted her chin. She’d allowed fear to keep her prisoner for thirty years. She was done hiding from the world. Even if that world was terrifyingly dangerous. “No man’s going to tell me what I can or can’t do. Not anymore.”

  His expression tightened, but before he could say anything truly stupid, the door to the bedroom was thrown open and a slender replica of herself walked in.

  No, not a precise replica, Harley realized, her gaze skimming over the blond hair that was cut short and spiky and the delicate face that was just a trace more heart-shaped, with eyes that were more green than hazel.

  Still, the resemblance was stunning.

  Harley watched her sister approach, her stomach twisting with an odd combination of emotions.

  What the hell was she supposed to feel?

  Joy? Disbelief? Regret?

  A raging identity crisis?

  With a shake of her head, she decided that she would figure out what to feel later. For now all that mattered was getting out of the marble mausoleum and finding Salvatore.

  Clearly unafraid of the towering predator who could easily rip out her throat or simply squash her with one of his massive fists, Darcy crossed to stab her mate with a stern gaze.

  “Styx, I wish to speak with my sister.”

  He dipped his head in instant agreement. “Very well, my love.”

  “Alone.”

  The vampire’s starkly beautiful features tightened, but astonishingly, he headed obediently toward the door.

  “I’ll be downstairs. I need Dante to bring Abby here.”

  Darcy’s brows lifted in surprise. “Abby?”

  “I have a few questions for her.”

  Harley’s sister pointed a finger at her mate. “Please remember to make it an invitation, not a royal command.”

  A smile curved the vampire’s lips even as he assumed an arrogant expression.

  “What is the benefit of being the Anasso if I can’t issue royal commands?”

  Darcy chuckled. “I’ll remind you of a few benefits later.”

  “You think you can use such a shameless ploy to control me?” he demanded, his fangs extending and his voice thickening with tangible desire.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re right.” Without the least embarrassment at acknowledging his mate’s power, Styx offered Harley a small dip of his head. “Sister-mate, welcome to our home.”

  Waiting until the frightening vampire had stepped over the threshold and shut the door behind his retreating form, Darcy moved to take Harley’s hand in a light grasp, her smile apologetic.

  “He promised he only wished to ask you a few questions. I should have known he’d try to bully you.” She rolled h
er eyes. “Vampires.”

  Harley’s wariness eased at her sister’s teasing. Attired in a faded pair of jeans and casual white shirt, with her sweet smile, she didn’t look like the Queen of Vampires.

  Actually she looked like a high school cheerleader who should be working on her algebra and dating the quarterback.

  “Trust me, Weres aren’t any different,” Harley countered.

  “You’re right. It’s men in general.”

  “All that testosterone putrefies their brains.”

  They shared the universal sigh of female resignation at the follies of men.

  “I’m Darcy.” Her sister squeezed her fingers. “And you’re a most honored guest in my home, sister.”

  Harley pulled her hand free, bothered by the strange sense of connection flowing through her blood at Darcy’s touch.

  As delighted as she was to meet her sister, she wasn’t ready to lower her guard. Darcy was, after all, bound to the vampires. Her loyalty would be to her mate and his people.

  “Guest or prisoner?” she demanded.

  “Never a prisoner, Harley. I promise.”

  Unnerved to be staring into a face so remarkably similar to her own, Harley paced toward the tall arched windows. Night had recently fallen, bathing the rolling parkland that surrounded the mansion in velvet shadows, but in the distance Harley could see the Chicago skyline strikingly outlined in lights.

  At any other time she might have appreciated the beautiful view. She rarely had had the opportunity to spend time in a large, vibrant city that offered endless entertainment. But not tonight.

  There was a disturbing emptiness in the center of her being that was making her twitchy as hell. She needed to be out of the elegant mansion and on the hunt.

  Now.

  “Is our other sister here as well?” she demanded, as much to know how many others might try to stand in her path as in genuine curiosity.

  Later she would appreciate the sisters she thought she’d lost.

  “No, Regan left earlier today.” Darcy heaved a loud sigh. “Like you, she seemed to believe I was secretly plotting to hold her against her will. I really am a nice person. I only want to get to know my sisters.”