“She’s not to leave the village,” he said before stalking away.
It wasn’t until after the sun set and the change happened that the gargoyles began to regroup. The horses were left behind as they made their way to the remote location in the woods that Demetrius had chosen.
As they drew nearer, Tatiana became acutely afraid. She wondered what would happen when Lucien came face-to-face with Demetrius. During the past two days he’d spoken passionately about killing Demetrius, and it seemed that his hatred for her guardian ran far deeper than what was expected even for adversaries in war. Tatiana feared that Lucien would carry out his threats. And on the other hand, she also feared that Demetrius would try to kill Lucien.
Four cloaked figures stood before them, but Lucien had the distinct feeling they were surrounded. He’d been wise to have six of his own clan members linger back in the trees in case of an ambush. He didn’t trust Demetrius. The man would slit his own mother’s throat if he thought it would benefit him.
One of the figures advanced. His stride was confident as he stripped off his hood, revealing a head of long, straight snow-white hair. Ice-blue eyes, set in the face of a man who appeared to be in his mid-forties but whom Lucien knew to be centuries old, slipped from Tatiana to Lucien. It was Demetrius Borimirov himself, the wretched leader of the Solomonarii and the man responsible for the death of Lucien’s father.
Tatiana moved to join Demetrius, but Lucien grabbed her cloak, hampering her escape. “Stay where you are,” he told her quietly.
Demetrius paused when he stood a few feet away from Lucien and his gargoyles. “Give me the girl.” He spoke with an aristocratic drawl and his expression abided no defiance.
Lucien drew the broadsword that was strapped to his back. “She is here. Come and take her.”
One of Demetrius’s brows went up. “Perhaps you do not understand, gargoyle. Five of my warlocks have gone into the village, seeking food and refuge for the night. The outcome of their stay depends solely upon you. So make your choice wisely.”
Lucien flexed his hand over the hilt of his sword. He wanted nothing more than to drive the blade through Demetrius’s skull, but he knew how cold and ruthless the warlock was. “You will not harm those people,” he barked.
Tatiana looked from Demetrius to Lucien and back again. “Harm them? What is he talking about?”
Lucien answered for him. “It was a part of the arrangement,” he told her without taking his eyes from the warlock. “In exchange for your return, the villagers would be spared a savage slaughtering.”
Tatiana gasped. “Is this true?”
Demetrius fixed his attention on Tatiana and a feigned look of apology crept over his face. “What man would not go to such lengths to see his daughter returned safely to him?” He extended a hand to her. “Come, my child. You are sorely missed among your people.”
Lucien fought the rage that was mounting within him as he watched Tatiana cross the short distance to where Demetrius stood. She cast him one final look as Demetrius wrapped an arm about her shoulder, enveloping her within the folds of his heavy black cloak.
So close, Lucien thought. He’d never been so close to the man who had robbed him of his father, and yet he was unable to take his vengeance. At least, not yet. Not while so many lives were at stake. His clan had protected the village for decades and he intended to do so for many more. This was neither the time nor the place to start a battle, especially if Tatiana would be fighting on the opposing side. Strangely, the thought of her being harmed, even by his own followers, lit a fire within him. And here he was, forced to watch as Demetrius pulled her up behind him on his horse. Her death was inevitable, he knew, yet he couldn’t accept it. He refused to stand by and allow another innocent to be used and then destroyed by the heartless warlock.
When the Solomonarii horses disappeared through the trees, Lucien turned to his second in command. “Take three of our warriors and return to the village. Seek out Demetrius’s warlocks and kill them, but take heed. No one else must be harmed.
The huge gargoyle nodded and took to the skies. Lucien turned to the gargoyles that remained. “We head west to the mines,” he told them.
The morning after Tatiana had been captured, he’d had several of his warriors return to the mine shaft where the Solomonarii had managed their escape. He’d been certain it had been their place of entry, for there’d been no way for the group to pass the warriors he’d had guarding the highway undetected. Two days ago the entrance to the Solomonarii lair had been found, and now Lucien intended to go there and exact his revenge upon Demetrius Borimirov. Already forty members of the Ananovian clan and fifty of his own warriors awaited them within the mines.
“Tonight we end this war,” he told his followers before he spread his massive wings and sprang into the air, disappearing into the darkness overhead.
Chapter 5
Tatiana moved swiftly down the darkened passageway that led to two large doors that were locked at all times. It was well past midnight, and they’d arrived at the Solomonarii castle a few hours ago. Although it had been good to be back in her own bed, sleep had evaded her. Everything that had transpired during the past three days haunted her, filling her head with questions that she couldn’t answer for herself. But there were answers to be had. Within the cellar of the castle, she knew, was a collection of records that dated back to the very conception of their clan. Only Solomonarii elders were permitted to view and make entries into these records, but that was about to change.
Dressed in her long nightgown, she padded barefoot toward the two armed warlocks who stood guard outside the doors. They extended greetings to her, but she kept her head down, weaving a spell under her breath. Only when the final word slipped from her lips did she meet their gazes. The guards were slammed against the wall and away from the door, and they collapsed to the floor. The force spell she’d chosen wasn’t a powerful one, but enough to render them unconscious for the rest of the night.
She pulled the ring of ancient keys from the belt of one of them and tried each one until the doors cracked open. She was greeted by the musty odor of old books and ageless leather. She mustered her strength and dragged the warlocks inside, laying them down as gently as she could before easing the door shut behind her.
She pulled out a small flashlight and set to work. It seemed that each text was older than the one before, and many had been penned in the Old Language. Of course, that wasn’t a problem for her—Demetrius had ensured that she was well versed in the language of their ancestors, as many of the more potent spells were written in such.
She flipped through several more huge texts before she came across a thick volume that bore the Solomonarii seal. She’d found what she was looking for—she could almost feel it. She slipped it from the shelf and hefted it onto a large oak desk.
She opened the dust-laden cover and began reading. It was a record of all the Solomonarii warriors who had died defending their clan, thousands of names, some dating back to the early 1800s. She read for hours, and when she finally came to the end of the text, her brows furrowed with confusion.
Lucien had been right about so many things. First, there was no documentation about her parents; they hadn’t died in the Sixth War, hadn’t left her in Demetrius’s care—it was as if they’d never even existed.
She stood and located another text, a record of the Solomonarii’s hierarchy. She flipped through the pages, each time locating the names of the Uniil and their leaders. She noted that over the years there’d been a total of twenty who’d held her position, all immediate wards of the great lord Demetrius. Their reigns had been brief, each disappearing from the records before the next appeared. Her heart began to pound as she compared the dates within the books before her. There was no record of their deaths in battle. So what had happened to them?
With shaking hands she was about to close the book when a muffled noise startled her. It was a screeching that, after two days within the gargoyle lair, she recogn
ized immediately. She shut the book and hurried out of the cellar to the nearest window. The night sky was littered with winged and shrieking creatures that were diving through the glass windows and snatching any who lay within.
How did they find us?
Demetrius had taken great precautions to ensure that the gargoyles couldn’t follow them. He’d had several of his warlocks linger along the trails with orders to kill any gargoyle that came after them.
A mingling of excitement and fear shot through her. She would use this much-needed diversion wisely and leave the castle undetected. She didn’t know where she would go, but she had to get out of there. At least until she learned the truth.
She hurried down a dimly lit hall. Screams of both man and beast echoed throughout the halls, and she stumbled several times as the walls shook in the wake of an inferior fire spell. Deciding to take a faster route to her bedroom, she slipped through an open door into the main reception hall and stopped short as she came face-to-face with Demetrius. Her entire body began to shake as she wondered if he’d guessed at her mischief.
“Where have you been, child?” he asked, taking hold of her arm. “Come, our castle is under attack. We must defend our people.”
He proceeded to drag her along, but Tatiana dug her heels into the stone floor. “I have no people.”
Demetrius paused and turned to look at her. “What have you been told?”
She pulled her arm away from him and lengthened the distance between them. “Who am I, and why did you bring me here?”
Demetrius was silent for a moment as he studied her with narrowed eyes. “I see you have allowed those beasts to poison your mind. You disappoint me.”
The patient yet scolding look in his eyes almost made her feel ashamed, but she was determined to get answers. “Tell me the truth. Why is there no mention of my parents in our clan’s records?”
Her admission revealed instantly that she’d broken one of the sacred laws of the Solomonarii. Demetrius’s face hardened a measure, but his tone remained calm. “Very well. I tried to protect you from the painful secret of your family, but I see that my efforts have done more damage than good.” He paused as if gauging her reaction. “Your parents deserted our clan during the Sixth War. They abandoned you, and I, out of pity, made you my ward.”
She watched him as her mind sifted through what she’d just been told. One part of her wanted to believe him. Over the years he’d always had her best interests at heart. She’d been to the best schools, had the best clothes and had never wanted for anything. It seemed natural that he’d also want to guard her feelings. Yet…everything didn’t add up.
“What happened to all your other wards before me?” she asked. “They’re no longer a part of our clan, and they weren’t killed in any wars.”
It was obvious that her question caught him off guard. His eyes flinched. “They were ungrateful and abandoned the teachings of the Solomonarii. I was forced to banish them.” He reached out to caress her cheek. “But you, my dear, you aren’t like them. You are special. You will lead our people…”
Tatiana withdrew, avoiding his touch. “How is it that all fifty of your wards before me had to be banished? And why are there no records of their parents? Were they all deserters?”
She watched him, awaiting his response. “You’re lying to me,” she said when he failed to answer. She retreated a few steps. “I’m an Ananovian witch, aren’t I? You kidnapped me from my people and raised me to fight in your wars.”
Around them the walls trembled as another spell was cast somewhere within the castle. Demetrius began to advance, his face shrouded with a look she’d never seen before.
“Have I not given you the best of everything?” He spoke in a low voice. “Have I not treated you as my very own daughter? Those other witches died only because they rebelled, but you have pleased me in every way. I could never bring myself to harm you.”
Tatiana felt her knees growing weak again. She wanted to believe that her world was more than a farce, but she couldn’t. Most of what Lucien had told her had been confirmed by what she’d read in the ancient text. And now Demetrius expected her to believe that, over the centuries, fifty of his wards—each having been abandoned by defecting parents—were also banished for betraying him. Even if there was some modicum of truth to what Demetrius had said, she wondered what he could possibly have done to earn such constant disloyalty. Well, whatever it might be, she wasn’t prepared to stick around until he did it to her.
“I don’t believe you,” she told him as she took a step back. “And I’m leaving this place. You can fight your own war.”
Demetrius’s eyes flashed and his jawline hardened. “I’m sorry you feel that way. It’s such a pity that I must destroy you before you’ve served your full purpose.” The intensity of his words hit hard, eliminating any doubt that he was truly evil. She’d spent her entire life trying to please a man she’d thought was her legal guardian, only to realize now that he was a murdering bastard who’d kidnapped her from her rightful home. With a sob she moved to retreat another step, but Demetrius closed the distance between them.
Tatiana screamed as he grasped her neck and slammed her against a wall. She struggled, clawing at his hand as he hoisted her high off the floor. She tried to utter the words of a spell, but she couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. Demetrius was going to kill her the way he’d killed every Ananovian witch before her, and there was nothing she could do about it.
Lucien swooped into the Solomonarii castle through a broken stained-glass window. He surveyed the damage below, his eyes combing the mangled bodies of the Solomonarii warlocks and witches. Tatiana wasn’t among them. He exhaled a sigh of relief as he brought himself to the ground. But where was she? He couldn’t understand the intense trepidation he felt, but he knew the only way to appease it was to find Tatiana.
Several Ananovian witches entered the room. Lucien turned to them, his anxiety mounting. “Have you found her?”
“Not a trace,” one of them responded. “We will search the west wing.”
Lucien nodded, and the party exited through another doorway. With the help of the Ananovian clan, the attack had proven a success, yet Lucien felt no satisfaction, for both Tatiana and Demetrius remained missing. He marched through a doorway and down a deserted hall. He was determined to comb every inch of the place until they were found.
He’d gone only a short distance when a muffled cry registered among his thoughts. His gargoyle senses told him that it was Tatiana and that she was in dire need of his help.
He searched the hall around him, finding no doorway to get to her. Desperation overtook him and before he knew what he was doing, he’d rammed a broad shoulder into the wall, smashing straight through the stone and into what looked like a huge reception room.
The scene that greeted him on the other side sent a bolt of excruciating anger ripping through him. Demetrius, in all his cowardly glory, held Tatiana off the ground by her throat, squeezing the life from her as she struggled madly.
Demetrius released Tatiana as he turned to face his new adversary. She crumbled to the ground, gasping for breath.
Lucien could feel his eyes blaze with a red inferno as they snapped from Tatiana’s limp body to the man who was the root of all of his aggression. “Prepare to die,” he told him with barely contained anger.
Demetrius stripped off his cloak just as he finished muttering the ancient words of a spell. “We shall see who meets death first.” Even as he spoke he began to morph into something great and hideous.
His body doubled in size, ripping away his clothing, and thick silver scalelike armor covered his flesh. His back hunched and a bevy of spiked horns pressed through. His fanged mouth opened, emitting a terrifying roar.
Lucien braced himself as the creature charged, and in an instant they were locked in mortal combat. Lucien’s strength didn’t match that of his opponent’s, for he had no sorcery to aid him. But what he lacked in strength he made up for in speed and
precision.
The creature’s long tail lashed out, wrapping itself about Lucien’s neck. “As your father did, you, too, shall beg for your life,” it growled.
Three centuries of anger and lust for vengeance raged within him. “As my father suffered, so shall you!” Lucien ripped the constricting tail away and slammed the creature into the wall, planting a fist into its abdomen.
The beast was resilient and quickly swung a clawed fist, which Lucien avoided with a deft movement. The battle waged and nothing was spared as each was intent upon killing the other. But finally it was Lucien who administered the crippling blow. With a moaning wail, the beast collapsed to the floor and lay motionless.
Fighting to calm his breathing, Lucien pulled a large knife from his boot. With Demetrius’s death many wrongs would be made right. He bent to grab hold of the beast’s neck, but a blinding explosion threw him backward, across the room and into a wall. Stone rained down on him from above.
As he began to throw off the pile of rubble, Lucien could see Demetrius, once again a man, lurch to his feet. The warlock limped forward and snatched up a small piece of stone, then proceeded to draw a circle around himself.
Lucien was no warlock, but he knew that Demetrius was going to attempt an escape spell. Lucien continued to throw off the heavy stones, but it was too late. Already Demetrius had begun to vaporize.
“We will meet again, gargoyle, and when we do I will run a blade through your heart,” Demetrius stated.
Before Lucien could respond, a bright glow from the other side of the room drew his attention. Tatiana stood within an orb of wavering light as she approached Demetrius, her lips moving quickly as she chanted.
Demetrius’s circle began to falter as he started uttering another spell, his attention turned now to Tatiana. In an instant she was snatched from the ground by an invisible force and dragged across the room, coming to rest at his feet. She gripped her neck as if she was being strangled, but with determination she continued chanting.
Prisoner of Temptation Page 4