Chapter 8
Levet shivered as a sharp wind howled over the bleak landscape, tugging at his wings. Surprisingly, however, it wasn’t a shiver of cold. Or even aversion.
It was sheer pleasure.
This isolated spot in Ireland might not be an exotic beach in the Bahamas, but the air was clean and crisp, and the rich scent of fertile soil was as sweet as any perfume. It emphasized the noxious atmosphere they’d just left.
There was something wrong at Ulric’s old lair.
Something wicked.
He shook off the clinging sense of evil, turning his attention to the nearby castle.
To most people it would look like a crumbling pile of rocks. Just another forgotten ruin that dotted the landscape. But Levet was easily capable of seeing through the illusion to the massive structure that towered far above them. It was a forbidding fortress, with heavy stained-glass windows and a gothic vibe that would have made Dracula proud.
Not that Dracula was real. And he certainly hadn’t been around during the gothic era…
Levet’s scattered thoughts were brought back to sharp focus as the enormous wooden door opened to reveal a vampire.
Cyn. Clan chief of Ireland.
At six foot three, the male possessed a powerful chest and thick muscles that he’d acquired during his human years as a Berserker. His dark blond hair hung halfway down his back except for the front strands that he kept woven into tight braids that framed his face.
His features looked as if they’d been chiseled by an angry artist in blunt lines, with a square jaw and high cheekbones. His brow was wide and his jade-green eyes heavily lashed. At the moment he was wearing slacks with a cashmere sweater.
Almost as if he was a respectable lord of the manor, and not a lethal vampire.
At least until he parted his lips to expose his fully extended fangs.
“Stop there,” Cyn warned.
Levet stepped forward, holding up his hand. “We come in pieces.”
“What?” Cyn appeared momentarily baffled, then his eyes were widening in shock. “No. No, no, no.”
“At least we know the creature wasn’t lying,” Tarak drawled as he stepped to stand next Levet. “Only a vampire who’d met the gargoyle could react with such genuine horror.”
Levet sniffed. “I am a delightful creature. It is not my fault that leeches are inconsiderate brutes.”
Tarak ignored his perfectly reasonable explanation for Cyn’s lack of welcome. Instead he offered a cautious bow.
“I’m Tarak.”
Cyn cast a glance over Waverly before settling his gaze on Tarak. “The one imprisoned by the mermaids?”
Tarak straightened, his expression tight. “And our beloved Anasso.”
Cyn grimaced. “Point taken,” he conceded. He folded his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m seeking information,” Tarak said before Levet could answer. So rude. “The gargoyle said you have an extensive library.”
“My library is one of the best in the world,” Cyn said. His words weren’t a boast. Just a statement of fact. “What specific information do you need?”
“Gargoyle,” Tarak said. “Tell him what we need.”
Levet clicked his tongue in annoyance. Really, enough was enough. “I do have a name. It is—”
“Tell him what you know,” Tarak interrupted, his eyes narrowed.
Levet muttered a curse. His feathers were thoroughly ruffled. Okay, he didn’t actually have feathers, but if he did they would be sticking out all over the place. Where was the respect? The adulation?
He was, after all, a hero.
Giving a snap of his wings, he forced himself to ignore the lack of proper appreciation. He would be the bigger demon. In graciousness, if not in physical size.
Clearing his throat, he shared the few details he knew about Ulric and Rainn’s journey to Wales, as well as the old woman who’d threatened to kill him.
“Describe the female,” Cyn commanded. He was as bossy as Levet remembered.
Silently, Levet decided that anger management wasn’t enough to make vampires fit for civilized society. They also needed charm school. Or perhaps a stake through the heart. That would help.
Feeling the vampire glares burning into his skin, Levet cleared his throat.
“She appeared to be an elderly human with silver hair and a wrinkly face,” he told his audience. “At first I thought she might be a grandmother, and I hoped she would invite me to her house for some pot roast and yummy mashed potatoes. Oh, and pie. Apple pie.” His stomach gave a loud gurgle in protest. “Speaking of pie, I do not suppose you have—”
“Focus,” Cyn snapped. “Was she human?”
Levet scowled, but he forced himself to consider the question.
Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the memory of his brief encounter with the female.
Like he’d said, she’d appeared to be human. At least at first. Then she’d come nearer, and all he could sense was her incredible age. It’d weighed on him like a physical pressure.
Plus, there’d been her magic. He’d never experienced anything like it before.
“Perhaps at one time,” he slowly concluded, aggravated with his inability to pinpoint the female’s species. “In the very distant past.”
“What is she now?” Cyn demanded. “A zombie?”
The vampire wasn’t being sarcastic. Human wizards could truly raise the dead from their graves.
“No.” Levet gave a decisive shake of his head. “She was alive, but I cannot say more than that.”
“I thought you might have heard word of such a creature,” Tarak said to Cyn. “Or perhaps possess a book that has legends about ancient magic in the British Isles.”
Cyn waved his hand toward the rugged landscape. “This is the land of legends. We need to narrow down the possibilities of what species the female might be, unless you want to spend the next few years digging through my library.”
“Her magic has created a thick fog around the area,” Tarak said. “There’s no way to get through the barrier to discover more.”
“Perhaps I can help.” A female voice drifted on the breeze, as soft as a summer mist.
Fallon, Princess of the Chatri. Oh, and Cyn’s mate. Poor fairy.
Stepping out of the castle, she moved to stand next to Cyn. She was beautiful, of course. Her hair was a glorious tumble of rich gold brushed with hints of pale rose. Her eyes were polished amber with flecks of emerald, and her ivory features were perfect. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a thick sweater that emphasized her slender curves.
Cyn instantly wrapped an arm around Fallon’s shoulders, pulling her tight against his side.
“This is my mate, Fallon,” he said, his voice thick with pride. “You have a suggestion?” he asked her.
Fallon nodded, offering a shy smile. “I could try to scry for the werewolf. It might allow us to see through the fog that you described.”
Levet’s wings perked up. He had nearly forgotten Fallon’s astonishing skill in scrying. She could locate and spy on anyone she wanted. Including the Oracles.
Hastily running his hands up and down his arms, he held up one claw in triumph.
“I have a hair if you need it to connect to the dog,” he announced. His brows arched as he realized his companions were regarding him with confusion. “What? He sheds.”
Fallon tried and failed to hide her smile. “It couldn’t hurt,” she assured him, waving a hand toward the nearby door. “Follow me.”
Ignoring the warning glare from Cyn, Levet scurried up the steps and entered the castle. He found himself in the cavernous foyer that was paneled in polished mahogany with an open beam ceiling. Across the space was a massive stone fireplace blazing with an impressive fire.
Levet’s dislike for Cyn lessen
ed at the sight.
The clan chief might be an arrogant patootie, like all vampires, but he adored his mate. He never forgot to keep the lair warm and toasty for Fallon, despite his aversion to fire.
They moved past the sweeping staircase and through a narrow door that led down to the kitchens. Levet halted in the middle of the stone floor, watching as Fallon grabbed a wooden bowl off a shelf and filled it with water.
She turned to walk back to him, placing the bowl on the floor. “Drop the hair in the water.”
Levet did as she commanded, and they all watched in silence as Fallon knelt next to the bowl and called on her powers.
Minutes passed, the air laced with the intoxicating scent of champagne. Fallon’s magic. Levet sucked in a deep breath. Yummy.
Not as yummy as an ocean breeze…
Non. He sternly squashed the thought, peering into the bowl.
“There’s the fog,” he murmured, happy to be distracted.
Cyn moved to kneel next to his mate. His brows lowered at the sight of the thick, swirling mist that crawled along the steep cliffs. It didn’t move as if it was being pushed by an unseen breeze. Instead, it churned and boiled as if it was a living force.
Cyn stated the obvious. “That’s not natural.” He studied his mate’s profile. “Can you penetrate it?”
“I’ll try,” Fallon said, waving her slender hand over the bowl.
The fog grudgingly thinned, battling against Fallon’s magic before it abruptly disappeared. In unison, they all gasped as they caught sight of the bleak destruction that was suddenly revealed.
Levet leaned closer, his wings drooping. He’d been vaguely aware there was something wrong as he’d sat on the edge of the cliff. But he’d been distracted by his annoyance with Ulric, and the fact that he’d been unable to follow his trail. Plus, he’d been on the very edge of the decaying landscape. At least until the fog had surrounded him.
Now he felt a heavy ball in the center of his tummy.
This was bad. Très bad.
He lifted his head, glancing toward Cyn. “What could do that?”
“Humans,” the ancient vampire snarled.
It wasn’t surprising that Cyn would leap to that conclusion. He’d recently had a very bad experience with the local druids.
Levet gave a firm shake of his head. “Non. It is not human pollution.”
Cyn looked like he wanted to argue, then he snapped his fangs together. No doubt he was recalling Levet’s exquisite ability to see past illusions and magic and even human spells.
Nothing could fool him, Levet assured himself. He wrinkled his snout. At least, not for long.
Cyn returned his attention to the bowl, his big body stiffening as if he had been hit by a sudden thought.
“You said the female was old,” Cyn said, his gaze remaining on the bowl.
“Ancient,” Levet corrected.
“Hmm.” He straightened, his expression distracted. “There might be something.”
“What is it, Cyn?” Tarak demanded as the larger vampire headed out of the kitchen.
Everyone scurried to follow behind the clan chief.
“Not long ago we battled an evil druid,” Cyn said, leading them down a hallway and toward the back stairs.
“This is not the same magic,” Levet protested as he struggled to keep up with Cyn’s massive strides. Why did vampires have such freakishly long legs?
It was annoying.
Reaching the upper floor, Cyn carefully unlocked the heavy door that protected his private library. As if any creature would be stupid enough to try and steal from a powerful clan chief.
Cyn entered the library first, followed by Tarak and then Levet. The females were last, although it had nothing to do with being treated as inferiors. Vampires adored their mates. It would never, ever occur to them to see them as anything but true partners.
But the fairy princess and the mermaid were leaning close as they whispered together. Clearly they were delighted to meet one another.
Cyn crossed the antique carpet, not even glancing toward the towering shelves that held hundreds of leather-bound books. He pulled out another key from his pocket and unlocked a second door that opened into his large study.
Levet hurried inside, his gaze skimming over the satinwood furniture that Cyn had carved, and the arched, stained-glass window. His only interest was in the tapestry on the far wall. It was a scene of a glistening white unicorn standing in the center of a flower-filled meadow with a pretty virgin kneeling at his side, which had been created by the fey creatures who’d fostered Cyn shortly after he’d been turned.
The image haunted him. As if it had some deeper meaning, if only he could see it.
Not that he’d ever had the opportunity to actually study the tapestry. Cyn was fiercely protective of his books. The few times Levet had tried to sneak a peek in these rooms, he’d nearly been tossed through the window. As if he was going to somehow hurt the stinky old manuscripts.
Pfft.
“What are we doing in here?” Tarak asked, obviously puzzled why they hadn’t remained in the outer library.
Cyn moved to touch a section of the wall. Instantly it slid open to reveal a hidden vault that was lined with shelves. Unlike the library, however, the scrolls, magical objects, and ancient books on the shelves were protected behind a thick layer of magic. “After we ended the threat—”
“After I conquered the Dark Lord,” Levet corrected Cyn. Really, had the stupid vampire forgotten what had happened?
Cyn sent him a jaundiced glare. “After the druids were defeated, I did some research on human magic.”
Levet stomped his foot. “You are leaving out my astounding contribution to saving the world.”
“Hush,” Cyn snapped.
Levet stuck out his tongue. “So rude.”
Cyn snarled a curse before turning his attention to Tarak. “I wanted to discover the origin of their power.”
Tarak stepped between Levet and Cyn. Not that Levet assumed the vampire was attempting to protect him. The leech was simply hoping to put an end to the squabbling.
“Did you discover the origin?” Tarak demanded.
“I’m not sure. There’s a book that I was in the process of trying to decipher. It spoke of a long-ago battle that was waged in Britain. Most of it was gibberish, to be honest, and I eventually gave up,” Cyn confessed, entering the vault and heading for the back wall. “I did get enough translated to know it referred to some sort of corrupted magic that was eroding the land until the demons gathered together to banish it. I think there was even a mention of a dank mist that might be the fog that is surrounding the werewolves’ old lair…” His words trailed away, and his body stiffened. “Shit.”
There was the sound of hurrying footsteps as Fallon entered the vault to stand next to her mate. “What’s wrong?”
“Look.” Cyn pointed toward the bottom shelf. “Charred.”
They crowded together, the air in the vault dropping to a frigid temperature. No need to ask if Cyn was displeased by the vandalism to his secret stash.
Using his compact size to his advantage, Levet wiggled forward. The bottom shelf was lined with manuscripts bound in worn leather. Even at a distance they looked fragile enough to disintegrate at any moment. Which was, no doubt, the reason they were behind the magical barrier.
Only one of them, however, looked like a lump of old charcoal.
“I assume it wasn’t like that before?” Tarak asked.
“No.”
“When was the last time you saw it?”
Cyn balled his hands into fists, the temperature dropping another ten degrees.
“It’s been a year, at least, since I was in this vault.” He glanced toward his mate, who instantly reached to touch his arm. “I had better things to do with my time.”
“Understandable.” Tarak nodded, sneaking a glance at his own mate.
Levet pursed his lips. He wasn’t envious. He wasn’t.
After all, he was a Knight in Shining Armor, meant to rescue any damsel in distress. Who wanted to be tied down to one female when he could be tasting the delights of demons around the world?
He heaved a sigh. The words didn’t have the same resonance that they used to have.
With an effort, he focused his attention on the crispy manuscript, waiting for Cyn to regain command of his temper.
Eventually the vampire waved a hand toward the open doorway. “Nothing should have been able to get in here without me knowing,” he said. “I not only have the vault protected by spells, but there’s an electronic alarm system that I had installed several years ago.”
Tarak gave an absent nod. “Is there another copy?”
Cyn paused, as if considering the question.
“Jagr might have one,” Levet said.
The head of Styx’s private guards had spent centuries in isolation, with only his massive collection of books to keep him company.
Cyn looked surprised. “The gargoyle is right,” he said, as if shocked. “Jagr has a library that is close to equaling my own.” Pulling a phone from the front pocket of his slacks, Cyn headed out of the vault.
Levet was forced to leap out of the way or be squashed beneath the male’s heavy shoes.
Vampires not only had legs that were too long, they had feet as big as barges.
They returned to the study, watching Cyn as he spoke into the phone and then restlessly paced from one end of the room to the other.
Was he waiting for Jagr to check his collection? Probably. Quickly bored by the delay, Levet drifted toward the tapestry. It really was fascinating.
A few minutes later Cyn muttered a curse and shoved the phone back into his pocket. “Jagr’s book was destroyed as well.”
“How?” Tarak demanded.
“Charred the same as mine.”
Tarak arched his brows in surprise. “This at least confirms we’re headed down the right path. Someone doesn’t want us to know what was written in that book.”
Conquer the Darkness Page 9