Devoured By Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  “And leave you and Levet here to die?” “Your faith in my skills is always heartwarming,” he said wryly.

  “You’re surrounded, outnumbered, and my lunatic aunt is out there with a powerful mage,” she said without apology. “What do you think your odds are?”

  “They would be considerably better if you weren’t here.”

  She winced at his brutal honesty. “What?” she muttered. “I pricked your pride now you have to insult me?”

  He released his grip on her, folding his arms over his chest. He refused to back down.

  He couldn’t force Laylah to obey him, but he was happy to use whatever emotional blackmail necessary.

  “Think, Laylah. Your aunt and her horde from hell are searching for you. Once you’re gone she won’t have any reason to continue her attack.”

  She frowned. “You can’t be certain.”

  “Marika’s crazy, not stupid.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “She’s not going to risk her warriors on a bunch of wood sprites and a vampire who has no value to her.”

  She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, unable to deny the truth of his words.

  “I … I can’t.”

  “You have no choice,” he ruthlessly pressed. “You claimed the child as your own. Now you must protect him.”

  Her lips tightened as a battle between loyalties raged inside her. At last, her fierce need to protect the innocent child in her arms overwhelmed all else.

  “Damn you,” she muttered, stepping back as she prepared to enter the mists.

  Relief blasted through him, but his primitive instincts had him moving forward to kiss her with a stark promise.

  “Laylah,” he whispered, careful to avoid contact with the child in her arms.

  “What?”

  “Don’t think this is over.” He pulled back, his face hard with resolve. “I’ll find you.”

  She met him glare for glare. “If you get yourself killed …” “Go.”

  With one last kiss, he spun away and headed back to Levet, but even with his back turned he felt the moment she disappeared.

  It wasn’t the absence of her soft breath. Or the prickling heat of awareness he felt when she was near.

  It was the gaping hole in the center of his chest.

  He absently rubbed the mark that Siljar had seared onto his skin, as if it might ease the icy emptiness.

  God almighty.

  He was in deep shit.

  As if to emphasize the point, he stepped through an opening in the trees to be greeted by a half dozen Sylvermyst warriors advancing with their crossbows raised.

  “Arrows.” Levet heaved a tragic sigh. “Must they be so predictable?”

  Tane wasn’t nearly so dismissive. A wooden arrow through the heart would make for a very bad night. Besides, they hurt like a bitch coming out.

  “Hard to beat the classics,” he said, halting a step behind the gargoyle as the tiny demon lifted his hands to launch a fireball at the encroaching enemy.

  “True.” Levet glanced over his shoulder with a smirk. “And they are most effective against vampires. Always the mark of a fine weapon.”

  “Not only vampires.” He bared his fangs. “The Sylvermyst are rumored to hex their arrows with spells that make demons impotent.”

  The gray eyes widened in pure male horror. “That is not a matter to jest about.”

  Tane gave a twirl of his Sylvermyst sword, knocking aside a flurry of arrows.

  “Who says I’m jesting?”

  “You are truly a wicked man,” Levet muttered.

  “So I’ve been told.”

  With a flick of his tail, Levet turned back toward their attackers, lobbing another fireball among the trees. The sudden light revealed a tall form standing in the shadows, watching the battle in silence.

  The leader.

  Tane was certain of it.

  Not that he had much opportunity to assess the danger. Dodging the flames, two of the Sylvermyst leapt directly at him, their swords slashing toward his head.

  With a speed that no fey could follow, Tane spun to the side, striking out with his sword.

  His blow was blocked by a matching sword, the sparks flying through the air. Sensing movement behind him, Tane used his superior strength to shove the fey off balance, turning to meet the second sword thrust.

  The blade moved smoothly through the air, speaking of the craftsmanship of the sword. Obviously the Sylvermyst were well armed.

  And well trained …

  He growled as the opponent behind him jabbed his sword through the fleshy part of his shoulder, obviously hoping to disable him long enough to strike a killing blow. A wise strategy if he was battling anything but a vampire.

  Gritting his teeth, Tane grasped the end of the sword sticking out of his shoulder, pulling it deeper into his body.

  The Sylvermyst breathed a sound of shock, but grimly held onto his weapon. A lethal mistake. With a last yank, Tane had the warrior close enough to his back that he could reach over his wounded shoulder and grab him by his long braid.

  A cry was ripped from the fey’s throat as he found himself flying over Tane’s head and landing on his partner had grimly been attempting to get past Tane’s sword.

  The two went down in a pile of flailing limbs and curses, and Tane didn’t hesitate as he sliced off the head of one Sylvermyst and then the other.

  A potent scent of herbs filled the air as the blood of the fey soaked into the mossy ground, but Tane didn’t pause to admire the gory victory. Spinning the sword, he turned, not at all surprised to discover yet another fey barreling through the trees in his direction.

  Dammit. Enough was enough. He was tired of playing pincushion for the bastards. Yanking his dagger from its sheath he sent it sailing in one smooth motion.

  The fey tried to dodge to the side, but the blade sank deep in his throat, slicing through a major artery. For a minute the warrior remained indifferent to the blood pouring down his chest. It wasn’t until his knees buckled and he fell forward that he realized the danger of the gaping wound.

  Tane was on him before he could try to stem the flow, sinking his fangs into his flesh and draining the last of the blood from his limp body.

  The power of the fey flowed through his veins, helping to heal his wounds.

  Straightening, he was prepared for the next attack.

  An attack that never came.

  Instead the remaining fey sank back into the shadows. All but the tall warrior that Tane had already tagged as the leader.

  He reached down to pull the dagger from the fallen warrior as the Sylvermyst strolled through the underbrush, a large crossbow pointed at Tane’s chest.

  He was taller than the others and built with more bulk than most fey, but he had the same oddly metallic eyes of the other Sylvermyst that shimmered with a pure bronze in the moonlight. His long hair was a dark shade of chestnut and his delicate features held an arrogant sneer.

  Tane narrowed his gaze. Ah, the pleasure of knocking that sneer from the too-pretty face.

  A pity he needed answers more than he needed the pleasure of slicing and dicing another fey.

  Obviously the Sylvermyst came to the same conclusion as he stepped into the small clearing, his crossbow aimed, but his finger off the trigger.

  “Where is the child?” the Sylvermyst demanded, his voice holding a power that filled the air.

  Tane’s fingers tightened on the sword. Damn. This Sylvermyst was different.

  Dangerous.

  “Why don’t you come and find out?” he invited, wanting the creature close enough he could rip out his heart if necessary.

  There was a rustle in the undergrowth as Levet sidled to stand at his side.

  “Tane, do you truly think it wise to taunt the Sylvermyst with the hexed arrows?”

  The bronze gaze dipped to the tiny gargoyle, his lips pulling into a mocking smile.

  “Is that your wingman?” He shifted his attention back to
Tane. “Pathetic even for a leech.”

  “Hey!” Levet protested.

  Tane, on the other hand, couldn’t argue.

  It really was pathetic.

  Instead he narrowed his gaze. “Wingman? You don’t speak like a fairy who has been banished from this world for centuries.”

  “I’ll admit my cable service was shitty in hell, but…”

  “No,” Tane growled. “You’re lying.”

  “Probably. I’m evil, after all,” the fey taunted. “It’s what we do.”

  “I don’t need an owner’s manual for evil.” The fey’s smile widened. “No, I don’t suppose you do, vampire.”

  Tane paused. Did the bastard have a sense of humor or a death wish?

  Either way he was setting off alarms that Tane wasn’t willing to ignore.

  “Who are you?”

  “Isn’t it enough to know I’m the man who is going to kill you?”

  Tane lifted a brow. “Are you scared to give me your name or embarrassed?”

  There was a moment of hesitation before the creature shrugged.

  “Ariyal,” he revealed, his gaze flicking dismissively over Tane. “And you are the infamous Tane. Scourge of rogue vampires around the world. Now that we have the introductions out of the way, tell me where the child is.”

  Tane’s question was answered.

  A death wish.

  Now that was cleared up, he wanted to know how the fey had discovered he was a Charon.

  “Where have you been hiding?”

  “Now, now. Don’t be rude, leech,” Ariyal drawled. “I asked my question first.”

  “You sure the hell haven’t been sharing a dimension with the Dark Lord.”

  The bronze eyes glittered, a prickling pressure filling the air.

  “Did you miss the story about the overly curious cat?” he asked smoothly. “He got his head chopped off.”

  “Damn.” Tane came to a sudden decision. Ariyal annoyed the hell out of him, but he wasn’t stupid enough to underestimate him. When he realized the babe was long gone he was going to release whatever magic he was keeping leashed. Tane didn’t want to be around when that happened. “Levet.”

  “Oui?”

  “Can you hide our scents long enough for us to escape?”

  “I thought you would never ask,” the gargoyle muttered. He waved a hand toward the Sylvermyst. “What about Tinker Bell?”

  Ariyal glanced toward Levet, smiling with a cruel anticipation.

  “Oh, I’m going to enjoy grinding you into dust.” “He’s coming with us,” Tane muttered. Levet squeaked in dismay. “Are you complètement fou?”

  Was he completely mad? A question for later.

  Moving with a speed not even a fey on steroids could track, Tane halted directly before Ariyal, knocking the crossbow out ofhis hand.

  “Arrogant bast …”

  The fey’s furious words were brought to a sharp end as Tane’s fist connected with his chin.

  There was a satisfying crunch as Tane felt the man’s jaw shatter beneath the impact of his blow. Then, catching the fey’s limp body before it hit the ground, Tane slung him over his shoulder and turned toward the wide-eyed gargoyle.

  “Let’s go.”

  It all started out so well.

  Laylah entered the mists without problem, even carrying the child.

  It had taken a minute or two to shake off the draining dizziness that always plagued her after a shift into the corridor between worlds, and another few minutes to determine a direction.

  She could go anywhere.

  She could disappear with her child and never be found.

  But even as the thought fluttered through her mind, she deliberately focused on Chicago and Styx’s elegant lair.

  For years she’d believed that she’d managed to disappear, but she wasn’t nearly so clever as she’d thought. The Commission had always known about her, and God only knew who else.

  Besides, the only true means of keeping the baby safe was to kill off those who hunted him. Bloodthirsty, but true.

  And the vampires were her best bet.

  She was busy convincing herself that her decision had nothing to do with Tane when she felt an archway forming in the mists.

  On instant alert, she clutched the baby tightly in her arms, backing away from the shimmering veil that was growing at a rapid rate.

  Shit.

  This was something she’d always feared when she shadow walked.

  Either something was about to enter the mists with her or …

  It turned out to be the “or” as the veil swelled forward and wrapped around her, sucking her into another dimension.

  She screamed as she was yanked from the mists and tumbling through the veil to land with painful force on her back.

  Black flecks danced before her eyes as the air was slammed from her lungs. Gods. It felt like she’d landed on a brick wall.

  Holding the baby in a death grip, she sucked in a deep breath and took stock of her surroundings.

  It didn’t feel like hell. Or even a foreign dimension, she slowly concluded.

  In fact …

  Scrabbling to her feet, Laylah glanced around the familiar countryside, her heart sinking.

  Dammit. She’d gone less than twenty miles from where she’d started. And worse, she wasn’t alone.

  Whirling around, she was prepared for anything.

  Oracles, mages, a full-bred Jinn. Something powerful enough to yank her from the mists.

  Instead her gaze landed on a slender man with surferboy good looks who she easily recognized.

  “Holy crap. Caine?” she breathed in shock, her gaze skimming the abandoned gas station and empty pumps before returning to the cur. “What the hell did you do to me?”

  He held up his hands, his slender face and blue eyes revealing a grim maturity that hadn’t been there only a few days ago.

  He grimaced, walking toward her. “Don’t blame me.”

  Laylah froze, the air charged with the electric pulse of her energy. “Wait.”

  Caine halted on a dime. He’d known her long enough to realize bad things happened when she was threatened. He lifted his slender hands in a gesture of peace. “What is it?”

  “Stay right there,” she warned. “Who are you?”

  “Who am I? Are you tripping?” His brows snapped together. “You just said my name.”

  “I know what I said, but there’s something wrong with you.”

  His sharp laugh echoed through the darkness. “I can’t argue with that. You want the long list or short?”

  “I want to know why you smell like a pureblood.”

  He shoved his hands into the pockets of his faded jeans. “Believe it or not a demented demon lord, who had been sucking the magic from Weres for centuries, slammed through me on his way back to hell, killing me in the process before I was mysteriously resurrected as a pureblooded Were.”

  Laylah blinked, struggling to process the clipped words.

  Good … lord. Had his bizarre visions actually come true?

  Unbelievable.

  She had a thousand questions, but Caine’s rigid lack of emotion warned he wasn’t ready to discuss his mind-blowing experience.

  She could relate.

  She wasn’t much into sharing.

  “I believe you,” she said. “No one could make up that story.”

  “I actually have a witness.”

  He waved a hand and a female Were who had been hidden in a nearby Jeep slowly approached.

  Laylah was momentarily disconcerted. She looked like Harley and Darcy, only with longer hair and lighter eyes.

  “Gods, not another one,” she muttered. “How many are there?”

  The woman studied her with an unconcealed curiosity that might have been rude if Laylah hadn’t sensed the remarkable innocence of her heart.

  “If you refer to my sisters there are four of us in total.” She tilted her head to the side, her pale hair shimmering in the moonlight. “
At least, that was what I was told.”

  “This is Cassandra.” Caine moved to place a protective arm around the Were’s shoulders. “Cassie, this is Laylah.”

  Laylah flashed a strained smile. Now wasn’t the time for chitchat.

  She didn’t have a clue what had yanked her from the mists, but she did know she wasn’t near far enough from her aunt and the attacking Sylvermysts.

  “Well, it’s great to meet you, Cassie, but I’m kind of in a hurry.”

  “Wait.” Without warning, Cassie reached out to grasp her upper arm, her grip astonishingly strong. “You’re meant to be here.”

  Laylah’s eyes narrowed in anger. Obviously the Were had wanted her at this godforsaken gas station in the middle of nowhere.

  “Are you the one who pulled me out of the mists?”

  “Easy, Laylah,” Caine growled. “Cassie is just the messenger.”

  “For my aunt?”

  “Aunt?” Caine looked genuinely confused. “Where the hell did you get an aunt?” “I ordered her off eBay,” Laylah snapped, tugging away from the Were. She didn’t trust either one of them. “Who sent you?” “Fate,” Cassie murmured.

  A flash of lightning struck the steel pole that supported the rusting sign in the shape of a hamburger.

  With an awkward movement, Caine pushed himself between Laylah and his companion.

  “Dammit, Laylah, don’t wig out, she really does mean fate.”

  She grit her teeth. “Caine, I’m not in the mood to be jerked around. Tell me what’s going on or I swear I’ll fry you.”

  “She’s …” He hesitated before the words were seemingly ripped from his lips. “A prophet.” Prophet?

  Well, that was a conversation ender.

  Laylah sucked in a startled breath, her powers faltering.

  “She sees the future?”

  “Only in glimpses,” Caine warily admitted, clearly driven by a primitive need to protect the beautiful Were. A dangerous position.

  If she truly were a prophet then she would be considered a holy grail among the demon world.

  “I thought they were extinct,” she said.

  “Most people thought the same of Jinn mongrels,” Caine pointed out dryly.

  Laylah grimaced.

  Couldn’t argue with that.

  She turned toward the Were who possessed such an eerie resemblance to Harley.

  “So if you’re not completely out of your mind, why has some mystical fate brought me here?”