Hunt the Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  “Maybe the vampires.” The green eyes held a concern that was at odds with his calm voice. “Does he have a clan nearby?”

  She had to remind herself to breathe. “No. Why?”

  “He’s a chief. They can draw power from their clan.”

  Oh. She didn’t know that. Chewing on her bottom lip she tried to calculate how far they were from Nevada.

  “How long does he have?”

  The imp grimaced. “Not long. I’d say no more than an hour. Maybe two.”

  “Damn.” She tasted blood as her teeth sank into her lip, tears filling her eyes. Even if she drove like a bat out of hell she couldn’t reach his people. “It’s too far.”

  A copper brow arched at choked words. “I’m an imp.”

  Sally blinked. “Yeah, I got that.”

  “I can create a portal to take you anywhere you want to go,” he said slowly, as if realizing she was having difficulty processing anything beyond her savage fear that she was going to fail Roke.

  She held the green gaze. “Can you take me to Nevada?”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Although I can only travel to a place I’ve been to before.”

  “Las Vegas?” she suggested, recalling Roke saying his clan was within easy distance of Sin City.

  He gave a dip of his head. “Of course. Are you ready?”

  Sally shut down her brain.

  It was the only way to halt the shrill voice in the back of her mind that was screaming she couldn’t trust a strange imp who just happened to show up when she needed him the most. And that even if the fey could be trusted, she was a fool to willingly put herself in the hands of Roke’s clan.

  She didn’t have a choice.

  If she didn’t do something quick, Roke was going to die.

  She knew it in the very depths of her soul.

  “Yes.”

  The male studied her pale face for a long, silent moment before lifting a hand to weave a pattern in midair. Slowly a shimmer began to appear, growing wider with every pass of his slender hand.

  Sally felt an odd sensation bloom deep inside her. Was she reacting to the portal? Or was it the imp magic that was stirring a pulse of power that flowed through her blood?

  She shook her head. What did it matter?

  Once he was satisfied his portal was stable, the imp held his hand toward Sally, nodding toward Roke.

  “Hold on to the vampire.”

  Sucking in a deep breath, she placed her hand in the imp’s and then slid her arm under Roke’s neck, leaning down to press her lips to his icy forehead as the imp pulled the portal toward them.

  Not sure what to expect, Sally stiffened as the prickles of energy raced over her body, an explosion of colors swirling around her as if she could actually see the magic of the portal.

  The imp made a sound of wonderment, his eyes wide as he studied the whirling kaleidoscope.

  “Astonishing,” he murmured. “It’s never been like this.”

  Sally didn’t know if he was referring to the colors or the sensations of being sucked through space at supersonic speed, and she didn’t have time to ask as they came to a sharp halt. Holding tight to Roke, she watched as the colorful display slowly dissipated, revealing a vast desert shrouded in darkness.

  “This is it,” the imp murmured.

  Sally nodded, her gaze skimming the distant mountains before turning her attention toward the glowing lights of Vegas that lit the night sky even miles away.

  “How far are we from the vampires?”

  “Not far enough for my comfort.” The imp shuddered, pointing south. “They’re rapidly approaching.”

  She pressed another kiss to Roke’s forehead. “Thank the goddess.”

  Careful not to startle her, the imp crouched beside her, his expression troubled.

  “You’re certain?”

  Nope. Not in the least.

  “Roke needs them.” Was her only answer.

  “You can leave him here and return through the portal with me,” the imp said. “A Chatri should not be in the hands of vampires.”

  “I’m not a . . .” She gave a futile shake of her head. What did it matter? “I’ll be fine.”

  “I hope so.” He shot an anxious glance toward the thickening shadows. “They’re almost here.”

  “Go,” Sally urged.

  The imp hesitated, clearly torn between a desire to stay and offer her protection and a fear of the approaching demons.

  It was the burst of frigid power that filled the air that had him performing a hasty bow and stepping back into the portal.

  “Take care.”

  Sally ignored her stab of fear as the imp disappeared. It was too late for regrets.

  She was here to keep Roke from dying.

  Nothing else mattered.

  Bent low over her mate, Sally watched as the two approaching silhouettes solidified into a large male and much smaller female.

  Another surge of fear clenched her heart. The male was bigger and bulkier than Roke with long, dark hair pulled into a braid. His features were broad and his eyes a light brown. The woman, on the other hand, looked like a puff of wind might blow her away.

  Short and slim, she was wearing spandex bike pants and a sports bra that emphasized her tiny dimensions. She had golden curls pulled from a heart-shaped face and big, blue eyes. She might have looked like a china doll if not for the frigid hate that was etched on her delicate face.

  Oh, and the big-ass fangs that glistened in the moonlight.

  Of the two, Sally was much more terrified of the female.

  “It’s him,” the woman said, her feral gaze trained on Sally. “What have you done to our chief, witch?”

  “Nothing.” Sally swallowed the lump in her throat. “I mean—”

  “Check the area,” the female interrupted, speaking to her companion. “I smell fey.”

  The male instantly obeyed the command, proving Sally’s instincts had been right. The female was the more dangerous.

  Which meant, Sally had to convince her that they didn’t have time to screw around with the usual preliminaries.

  “You must listen to me,” she said in urgent tones. “Roke has been poisoned.”

  “Poisoned?” The vampire frowned. “With what?”

  “I don’t know. We were attacked by a demon and he shot him with a dart.” Sally bit off her words, realizing she was babbling. “That’s why I brought him here.”

  The icy blue eyes narrowed. “He dies, you die. Got it?”

  Sally clenched her teeth. This was going about as well as she’d expected.

  “Just help him.”

  There was a chilled breeze as the male vampire returned. “There’s no one else in the vicinity.”

  The female nodded her head toward Roke. “Take Roke to his lair and call for the healer. Tell her that he might be poisoned.” The blue eyes narrowed as they remained locked on Sally. “Or it might be a spell.”

  The male moved obediently forward, scooping Roke off the ground with a gentle care that eased a small part of Sally’s thundering terror.

  Whatever their fury with her, it clearly wasn’t directed at their chief.

  “What about the witch?” the male asked as Sally scrambled to her feet, trying to put some distance between them.

  The female strolled forward, her lips twisted with disgust. “Unfortunately, we have to keep her alive until we know if she’s put a spell on Roke. If she did, she’s the only one who can break it.”

  “A pity,” the male muttered.

  The female shrugged. “Until then, I get to do something I’ve waited weeks to do.”

  Sally parted her lips to assure them that all she wanted to do was help Roke when the female lifted her hand and with a casual motion slapped Sally with enough force to make the world go black.

  Styx watched Siljar as she leaned over the dead fairy, her black, almond-shaped eyes unblinking and her hands folded at her waist.

  She’d been in that precise pose for the pas
t ten minutes while Styx impatiently paced the stone floor and Viper kept watch at the mouth of the tunnel.

  He still wasn’t sure if he’d made the right decision to bring Siljar into the investigation. Sure, she’d been the one to start the ball rolling. But he couldn’t deny there were questions of whether she might actually be involved.

  It’d only been after he and Viper had discussed every angle of the investigation that he realized they’d come to a dead end.

  What choice did he have but to ask the powerful Oracle for help?

  At last the tiny demon straightened, her braid nearly brushing the floor.

  “His magic has been drained,” she pronounced.

  “And that killed him?”

  “Yes.”

  Styx frowned. That seemed . . . hideous.

  “How?”

  “There are demons who feed off magic, but it’s a rare talent,” Siljar explained.

  “Good. That narrows down the field of suspects.”

  Siljar arched a brow. “Law & Order or NCIS?”

  Styx shrugged, refusing to be embarrassed. “Law & Order. Darcy is an addict.”

  “How very odd.”

  Maybe it was a little odd for a centuries-old vampire to snuggle on the couch with his mate and watch Law & Order, but he didn’t give a shit.

  If it made Darcy smile he was fully on board.

  “Are there any Oracles who suck magic from their victims?” he asked.

  Siljar stilled, her black gaze studying him with unnerving intensity. “You instantly assumed it was an Oracle. Why?”

  Styx grimaced. Sometimes he forgot just how perceptive the tiny demon truly was.

  A serious mistake.

  “I have my Ravens spread through the area.”

  She appeared unconcerned by his reluctant confession. “I expected as much.”

  “Only three people entered the caves before we found the corpse. Viper, myself, and the fairy.” He glanced toward the fairy who was rapidly disintegrating. Another hour and he would be nothing more than pixie dust. Literally. “Whoever killed him was already here. Unless they have your ability to travel.”

  “Not without alerting me,” Siljar said without hesitation. “No one beyond me and my daughter, Yannah, traveled out of these caves for the past week.”

  Styx nodded. It’s what he expected, considering the effort the demon had expended to try to do his disappearing act in the middle of the woods.

  “But there are Oracles who share your talent?” he pressed.

  Siljar tilted her head to the side. “Why do I suspect that is more than a casual question?”

  “One of my Ravens spotted a cloaked figure leaving the caves and disappearing a few miles away.”

  “The figure disappeared, it didn’t just disguise its presence?”

  Styx folded his arms over his chest, offended by the question. “No disguise could fool my Raven.”

  Indifferent to Styx’s icy tone, Siljar tapped a finger against her chin.

  “Are your Ravens still out there?”

  “Of course.”

  “Has the creature returned?”

  Styx had checked with Jagr only minutes before. “No.”

  “I believe I will call the Commission into session.” Siljar headed toward the opening of the cavern, her pace surprisingly swift for such a tiny demon. “It should prove interesting to see who is here.”

  “Or not here,” Styx added.

  “Precisely.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Brandel hurried through the secret tunnel, still struggling to hold his corporal shape.

  Goddamn that stupid witch. She’d ruined everything despite his clever plan.

  After the previous fiasco he’d realized he couldn’t just charge in and grab the box.

  He’d spent hours creating the perfect poison and loading it in the dart, then more time devoted to tracing the ancient magic to locate the box. Time well spent he’d assured himself as he caught sight of his prey trying to escape.

  He released his dart and attacked, knowing that the poison would swiftly weaken the vampire to leave the witch unprotected.

  Of course he wasn’t an idiot.

  A powerful witch was never truly helpless.

  But he’d been prepared to battle against spells of aggression, not a simple disguise spell that attacked him on his most fundamental level.

  Wanting to roar in fury, Brandel instead muffled his emotions and kept to the shadows as he weaved his way through the various passageways that led to his private rooms.

  Not only did he want to avoid attracting the attention of his fellow Oracles, but he also couldn’t risk his anger warning Raith that he’d failed yet again.

  He had just turned into the inner cavern that he’d claimed as his own when a slender Kapre demon appeared behind him.

  “There you are, Oracle.”

  The Kapres were tall, slender creatures with moss green skin that was completely hairless. They were also a passive race with few powers who often hired themselves as servants to more powerful demons.

  This particular Kapre was a valet to Recise, a Zalez demon who was one of the most powerful of the Oracles. The position gave the prissy, overly formal twit a sense of superiority over other demons.

  Fiercely reminding himself that he was posing as a mild-tempered Miera, Brandel turned, concentrating on holding his form.

  “Not now,” he said, his tone carefully bland. “I’m busy.”

  The creature sniffed, his black eyes filled with a malicious amusement.

  “What you are is late.”

  “Late?” Brandel frowned. “Late for what?”

  “The Commission has been called into session.”

  Brandel was forced to turn away, knowing his eyes would reveal his true nature as he struggled against a surge of fear.

  “Why?” he asked, pretending to straighten the pillows arranged on a flat outcropping that served as a sofa.

  Another sniff. “It’s not my place to understand the workings of the Oracles.”

  He continued to arrange the pillows, barely containing the pulses of vibrations that would destroy the Kapre. He needed information. Unfortunately, the servant was the only one who could give it to him.

  “Perhaps not, but I’m sure your position as Recise’s most loyal servant has given you access to highly sensitive information.” He forced himself to stroke the bloated ego of the Kapre.

  He could almost feel the creature preening behind him. “Certainly I am trusted, but my master is quite discreet.”

  Hmm. Clearly it was going to take more than flattery. Brandel reached behind a pillow to pull out a small bag filled with precious gems. He extracted a small emerald before turning to hold it in his open palm, pretending to study it in the candlelight.

  “Not everyone is so discreet, are they?”

  “True.” The servant licked his thin lips, his gaze locked on the emerald with blatant greed. “I did hear a rumor that the body of a dead fairy was found in the lower caves.”

  No. It was impossible. He’d hidden the body where it couldn’t be found, hadn’t he?

  “Was he very ill?” he asked with the pretense of innocence.

  The servant shrugged with obvious indifference. “No one knows for certain what happened, but Siljar is determined to have a full investigation.”

  Brandel forced his lips into a stiff smile. Meddlesome bitch.

  “Of course she is.”

  “Can you imagine any demon foolish enough to try to kill beneath the noses of the Oracles?” The Kapre inched forward, his gaze never wavering from the emerald. “The demon would have to be suicidal.”

  “Obviously.” With a flick of his wrist, Brandel sent the emerald flying through the opening to land in the passage outside his chamber. “I must change before I can join the others. Please inform Siljar I will only be a few minutes.”

  “Yes. Yes, of course.” The servant scrambled toward the small gem, unaware of the invisible barrier t
hat Brandel placed over the opening.

  Once assured there would be no further interruptions, Brandel headed into the back chamber allowing his shape to dissipate into mist as he considered his limited options.

  He could rush and try to join the Commission with the excuse he’d been out for a stroll. Or even remain in these private rooms and send word that he was sick and unable to attend the council.

  But neither would halt Siljar’s quest to discover who killed the fairy.

  If he remained, there was a very good chance he was going to end up in the Oracles’ secret dungeons.

  A place where demons went and never left.

  Ever.

  “Damn,” he muttered, knowing he had no choice but to disappear.

  Raith would be furious to lose their eyes and ears on the Commission. It’d always been essential to have early warning if the Chatri decided to make a return to the world. And, of course, to halt if the fey approached the Oracles with complaints their people were disappearing.

  Still, it was easy for Raith to toss out commands when he remained in the safety of their world.

  It was Brandel who was forced to take all the risks, with very few rewards.

  Well, no more, he abruptly decided.

  He was leaving behind the Oracles and tracking down the witch.

  Once he had the box, no one would be giving him orders.

  Styx stood at the back of the large cave that had once been the receiving room for the previous Anasso.

  Not much had changed in the past months. At least not as far as the scenery.

  The dark stone of the floor and walls had been polished smooth over the ages and a shallow stream of water ran through the back of the cavern. Torches were set in brackets along the walls that shimmered in the crystals that had been exposed in the lofted ceiling.

  The atmosphere, however . . . yeah, that couldn’t be more different.

  All hints of the opulent gold and crimson furnishings had been stripped away and replaced with a twelve-foot marble table that consumed the center of the room with twelve chairs set at precise distances apart. And gone were the barely civilized vampires with their raucous parties and bloody brawls.

  In their place were a variety of subdued demons attired in matching white robes who settled in their seats with a silent dignity.