Styx hadn’t become king just because he was baddest of all bad-asses. He was also frighteningly perceptive.
Narrowing his eyes he studied Santiago’s bitter expression with a disturbing intensity.
“Does this have something to do with Nefri and her return to her clan?”
Nope. Not discussing it.
Santiago jerkily moved to shove one of the glasses into Styx’s hand.
“Here.”
Briefly distracted, the ancient vampire took a sip of the potent spirit, a faint smile curving his lips.
“From Viper’s cellars?”
“Of course.”
Styx’s smile widened. Despite being predatory alphas, Styx and Viper (the clan chief of Chicago) had become trusted friends. It was almost as shocking as the fact that vampires and Weres had become allies. At least temporarily.
Which only proved the point that doomsday truly did make for strange bedfellows.
“Does he know you’re enjoying his private stash?”
“What he doesn’t know…” Santiago lifted his glass in a mocking toast before draining the tequila in one swallow. “Salud.”
“You know,” Styx murmured, setting aside his glass. “Maybe I should try my hand at Dr. Phil.”
Santiago poured himself another shot.
“You said you needed my help.”
“That was the plan, but you’re in a dangerous mood, amigo. The kind of mood that gets good vampires dead.”
“I’m fine.” Santiago drained the tequila, savoring the exquisite burn. “Tell me what you want from me.”
There was a long pause before the king at last reached to pull out a dagger that had been sheathed at his hip.
“Do you recognize this?”
“Dios.” Santiago dropped his glass as he stared in shock at the ornamental silver blade that was shaped like a leaf with a leather pummel inset with tiny rubies. “A pugio,” he breathed.
“Do you recognize it?”
His short burst of humorless laughter filled the room. Hell yeah, he recognized it. He should. It belonged to his sire, Gaius, who had once been a Roman general.
Centuries ago he’d watched in awe as Gaius had displayed the proper method of killing his prey with the dagger. What a fool he’d been.
Of course, he wasn’t entirely to blame.
Like all foundlings, Santiago had awoken as a vampire without memory of his past and only a primitive instinct to survive. But unlike others, he hadn’t been left to fend for himself. Oh no. Gaius had been there. Treating him like a son and training him to become his most trusted warrior.
But all that came to an end the night their clan was attacked. Santiago had been away from the lair, but he knew that Gaius had been forced to watch his beloved mate, Dara, burned at the stake. And lost in his grief, Gaius had retreated behind the Veil where he sought the peace they supposedly offered.
Of course, it had all been a load of horseshit.
Gaius had allowed himself to be swayed by the promise of the Dark Lord to return Dara and he’d gone behind the Veil to betray them all.
And as for Santiago…
He’d been left behind to endure hell.
Realizing that Styx was studying him with all too knowing gaze, Santiago slammed the door on his little walk down memory lane.
“Gaius,” he said, his voice flat.
“That’s what I suspected.”
“Where was it found?” Santiago frowned as the Anasso hesitated. “Styx?”
Styx tossed the dagger on the desk. “A witch by the name of Sally brought it to me,” he at last revealed. “She claimed that she worked for Gaius.”
“We know he had a witch who helped him along with the curs.” Santiago nodded his head toward the pugio. “And that would seem to confirm she’s speaking the truth. Gaius would never leave it lying around.” He returned his gaze to Styx. “What did she want?”
“She said she had been using Gaius’s lair in Louisiana to stay hidden in case she was being hunted for her worship of the Dark Lord.”
“More likely she knew that Gaius was dead and decided to help herself to his possessions.”
Again there was that odd hesitation and Santiago felt a chill of premonition inch down his spine.
Something was going on.
Something he wasn’t going to like.
“If that was the case then she was in for a disappointment,” Styx said, his expression guarded.
“Disappointment?”
“She says that a week ago she returned to the lair to discover Gaius had returned.”
“No.” Santiago clenched his hands. This was supposed to be over, dammit. The Dark Lord was dead and so was the sire he’d once worshipped. “I don’t believe it.”
Something that might have been sympathy flashed through Styx’s eyes.
“I didn’t either, but Viper was convinced she was speaking the truth. At least, the truth as far as she knows it. It could be that she’s being used as a pawn.”
Santiago hissed. His clan chief possessed a talent for reading the souls of humans. If he said she was telling the truth then…dios.
“I witnessed him coming through the rift with the Dark Lord, but how the hell did he survive the battle?”
“Actually, he only survived in part.”
Santiago struggled against the sensation he was standing on quicksand.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“This Sally said that Gaius was acting strange.”
“He’s been acting strange for centuries,” Santiago muttered. “The treacherous bastard.”
“She said that he looked filthy and confused,” Styx continued, his watchful gaze never wavering from Santiago’s bitter expression. “And she was certain he didn’t recognize her.”
Santiago frowned, more baffled by the claim that Gaius had been filthy than his supposed confusion.
His sire had always been meticulous. And Santiago’s brief glimpse of Gaius’s lair beyond the Veil had only emphasized the elder vampire’s OCD.
“Was he injured?”
“According to the witch, he looked like he was under a compulsion.”
“Impossible. Gaius is far too powerful to have his mind controlled.”
“It depends on who is doing the controlling,” Styx pointed out. “Sally also said that he was obviously trying to protect something or someone he had hidden in the house.”
With a low curse Santiago shifted his gaze to make sure the door was closed. No need to cause a panic.
“The Dark Lord?”
“No.” Styx gave a firm shake of his head. “The Oracles are certain the Dark Lord is well and truly dead.”
Santiago’s stab of relief was offset by Styx’s grim expression.
The Dark Lord might be dead, but Styx clearly was afraid something was controlling Gaius.
“You’ve spoken to the Oracles?”
Styx grimaced. “Unfortunately. Since my first thought was like yours, that he’d managed to salvage some small part of the Dark Lord, I naturally went to the Commission with my fears.”
“And?”
The room suddenly filled with a power that made the lights flicker and the computer monitors shut down.
“And they politely told me to mind my own business.”
He gave a sharp laugh. How many times had Styx been told to mind his own business? Santiago was going with the number zero.
“How many did you kill?”
“None.” Styx’s crushing power continued to throb through the room. “My temper is…”
“Cataclysmic?” Santiago helpfully offered.
“Healthy,” Styx corrected. “But, I’m not suicidal.”
That was true enough. The King of Vampires might approach diplomacy like a bull in a china cabinet, but he was too shrewd to confront the Commission head-on.
No. He wouldn’t challenge the Oracles, but then again, Santiago didn’t believe for a second he was going to sit back and meekly obey their command.
Obey and Styx was an oxymoron.
“If this is none of your business, why did you come to me?” he demanded.
“Because Gaius is one of mine, no matter what he’s done,” Styx said, his face as hard as granite. “And if he’s being controlled by something or someone I want to know what the hell is going on.”
“What about the Oracles?”
“What they don’t know…” Styx tossed Santiago’s words back in face.
Santiago narrowed his eyes. It was one thing to sneak a bottle of tequila from Viper’s cellars and another to piss off the Oracles.
“And you chose me, because?”
“You’re the only one capable of tracking Gaius.”
Santiago shook his head. “The bastard did something to mask his scent along with our previous bonding. I don’t have any better chance of finding him than you do.”
Styx smile sent a chill down Santiago’s spine. “I have full faith you’ll find some way to hunt him down. And, of course, to do it without drawing unnecessary attention.”
Great.
Not only was he being sent on a wild goose-chase, but he was in danger of attracting the lethal anger of the Oracles.
Just what he didn’t need.
With his hands on his hips, Santiago glared at his companion.
“So you’re not willing to risk the wrath of the Commission, but you’re willing to throw me under the bus?”
“Don’t be an ass.” Styx allowed his power to slam into Santiago, making him grunt in pain. “If you don’t want to do this, then don’t. I thought you would be eager for the opportunity to be reunited with your sire.”
Santiago held up a hand in apology. Mierda. He truly was on the edge to deliberately goad the King of Vampires.
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said. And it was true. Styx was right. He’d waited centuries for the opportunity to confront his sire. Now he’d been given a second chance. Why wasn’t he leaping at the opportunity? “It’s…” He broke off with a shake of his head.
“Yes?”
“Nothing.” He pulled out his cell phone, concentrating on what needed to be accomplished before he could head out. “I need to contact Tonya to warn her she’ll be in charge of the club.”
“Of course.”
“Where’s the witch?”
“She’s at my lair in Chicago. Roke is keeping an eye on her in case this turns out to be a clever trick.”
Santiago sent his companion a startled glance. Roke was the clan chief from Nevada and was in an even fouler mood than Santiago since Styx had refused his return to his clan after the prophet had revealed he’d been seen in a vision.
“The poor witch,” he muttered. “That’s not a punishment I would wish on anyone.”
Styx shrugged. “He was the only one available.”
Santiago froze. “Is there something going on that I should know about?”
A strange expression tightened Styx’s lean features. Was it…embarrassment?
“Darcy insists that I devote my Ravens to trying to locate that damned gargoyle.”
Ah. Santiago struggled to hide his sudden smile. The Ravens were Styx’s private guards. The biggest, meanest vampires around.
The fact he was being forced to use them to locate a three foot gargoyle who’d been a pain in Styx’s ass for the past year must be driving him nuts.
“Levet is still missing?” he murmured. The tiny gargoyle had astonishingly played a major part in destroying the Dark Lord, but shortly after the battle he’d disappeared into thin air.
Quite literally.
“You find that amusing?” Styx growled.
“Actually I find it a refreshing reminder of why I’m happy to be a bachelor.”
Styx’s annoyance melted away as a disturbing smile touched his mouth.
“Who are you trying to convince?”
Santiago frowned. “Convince of what?”
“That you’re happy?” the older vampire clarified. “From all reports you’ve been storming around here, making life miserable for everyone since Nefri returned to her clan behind the Veil. That doesn’t sound like a man who is content with his bachelor existence.”
Damn Tonya and her big imp mouth. Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Santiago held out an impatient hand.
“Do you have directions to Gaius’s lair?”
“Here.” Handing over a folded piece of paper, Styx suddenly grabbed Santiago’s wrist, his eyes glittering with warning. “For now all I want is information. Is that clear?”
“Crystal.”
“The Oracles won’t be happy if they find out you’re trespassing in their playground,” Styx warned. “Stay below the radar, amigo, and be careful.”
Santiago gave a slow nod. “Always.”
Preview of
ETERNAL DEMON
By Laura Wright
May 7, 2013
978-0451239754
Chapter One
“Are you listening to me, your highness?”
Hellen drew back her bow, aimed it at the streaking ball of pale yellow light ten feet in front of her, and let the arrow fly. She waited for impact, for the impish little rogue demon to drop, but it didn’t. It ran away, cackling.
She turned and glared at Eberny. “You must cease talking while I hunt.”
The ancient demon, a male/female hybrid, was undaunted. “You will be leaving us very soon, your highness. Your father has instructed me to make certain you understand your duties.”
Under the haze of auburn daylight, Hellen grabbed another arrow from her quiver and said in a dangerous voice, “My duties.”
“Indeed,” said Eberny, following Hellen as the young female demon suddenly took off, jogging along the perimeter of the Rain Fields. “How you are to conduct yourself.”
That little bastard, thought Hellen, her eyes searching for the lost rogue. Ah! There. It was ducking in and out of a cloud, grinning its toothless grin, toying with her.
With one easy movement, Hellen drew back her arrow and sent it straight for the cloud. It whizzed through the Rain Fields like a bolt of lightning.
Flash! A hit.
Hellen grinned as the rogue demon creature exploded.
“A worthy shot, your highness,” said Eberny in a contained voice before picking up the topic of discussion from a moment ago. “It would be wise to recall the lessons learned in the Academy. The ones dealing with a female’s obligations to her male counterpart.”
Scanning the Rain Fields for more rogues, Hellen snorted. “Unfortunately, I do not recall it. A much-needed nap was taken during that bout of instruction, I believe.”
“Your highness, that is not at all amusing,” stated Eberny, the hybrid’s mud-brown eyes narrowing with disapproval.
Girlish laughter sounded behind them. Hellen looked up to see her two younger sisters skipping down the black-earthed hillock toward them, long, pale yellow hair at their backs and yards of fuchsia and gold skirt trailing behind. Levia and Polly looked like a painting, so demure, so female. Perfect demon royalty. While she—if not for her disagreeable red coils of hair—looked like their brother.
“Hellen, dear.”
“Pray don’t shoot at us. We come in peace.”
Each female gave her a kiss on the cheek. They smelled of fireflower, the only flower allowed to grow in the underworld. It was rarest, picked and bottled the moment it flowered, then made into a perfume oil for the daughters of the Demon King.
Hellen preferred the scent of ashes, of the black soot beneath her feet—of the death of each rogue demon.
She was strange that way.
She had been told many times that she was named for her place of birth. But over the years she had come to wonder if her mother had known what grew inside her womb, what she would be unleashing into the underworld. A true hellion. Had the female demon had a premonition about a fiery gust of flaming hair and a defiant disposition, then come to a quick decision about her name?
A sudden
flash of light, bright blue and practically spitting off rogue energy, caught her peripheral vision, and she whirled around, grabbing for an arrow.
“Your highness, please,” Eberny implored. “Listen to me.”
Hellen shifted the bow and arrow, following the muted blue light deep in the Rain Fields ahead. “My eyes may be on my target, Eberny, but my ears are open. What is it you think I need to know?”
“The male you are to be given to will expect certain behaviors.”
“Indeed. I spread my legs when instructed, yes?”
Behind her, Levia and Polly gasped. Hellen drew back her bow and grinned. She could practically see the girls’ wide blue eyes, their gloved hands covering their mouths. She would miss them terribly, miss their sweet ways and perpetually outraged reactions. But, then again, she was glad to be going. Her sacrifice would be their safeguard always.
Eberny’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Sexual relations are only a small part of being a submissive partner, your highness.”
Submissive.
Hellen’s urge to kill amplified and she narrowed her eyes on the acres upon acres of Rain Fields where the rogue demons, the excess magical energy her father, Abbadon, released within the underworld, loved to hide.
“Do not look him in the eyes when he speaks to you,” Eberny continued.
“Where shall I look, then?” Hellen asked with an emotionless tone. “Between his legs?”
Again, her sisters gasped. “Oh, Hellen, you are wicked,” said Levia, her voice muffled through her gloved hand.
Eberny turned to them and sniffed. “She enjoys giving me pains in my head.”
Very true. Hellen chuckled and drew back an arrow, waited for the flash of blue, and sent it flying. It missed by a good ten feet. The little bastard’s subsequent cackling killed her laughter.
“If you could just be more like your sisters,” Eberny said on a sigh.
Hellen glanced back at the lovely specimens of female demon and shook her head, her gaze affectionate in the extreme. Yes, she would miss them terribly. “I know. It would be easier all round.”
Bayon/Jean-Baptiste (Bayou Heat) Page 17