Hunt the Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  She suspected the casual beauty of the rooms was a reflection of her half-sister who lacked the rigid decorum of the others.

  Returning to the main living room, Sally briefly put aside her gnawing need to speak with Roke and studied the female who was her sister.

  It was a given she was beautiful.

  Her hair was the color of a sunrise; gold brushed with hints of pale rose. Her eyes were rich amber with flecks of emerald. And her ivory features were so perfect they didn’t look real.

  But there was a genuine friendliness in her smile as she moved toward Sally and gently placed a delicate gold chain around her neck that held a flawless pendant.

  “There,” she murmured in satisfaction, stepping back to inspect Sally’s appearance. “You look beautiful.”

  Sally wrinkled her nose. “I appreciate the words, but we both know I’ll never make the ranks of beautiful. Especially not here.” She shook her head as she remembered the crowd of females who looked like they should have wings and halos. Only angels should be that gorgeous. “If I was vain, I would have slit my wrists the moment I arrived.”

  A shadow darkened Fallon’s amber eyes. “Physical perfection is tedious.”

  Sally snorted. “Says the female who can claim physical perfection.”

  “You have captured far more attention than I have ever received.”

  “Yeah.” Sally shuddered. That sort of attention she could do without. “Because I’m a freak.”

  Fallon absently strolled toward the windows where the glow of the sun bathed her in a golden light. Sally frowned. Not out of envy, although she was female enough to feel a pang of regret that she would never be able to compete with such stunning beauty, but at the realization that time obviously moved differently here.

  When they’d left Chicago it’d been ten o’clock in the evening.

  So had they gone back in time or forward?

  Or did the sun never set here?

  She needed to find out.

  Fallon slowly turned back to meet Sally’s curious gaze. “No, it’s because you’re . . . alive.”

  Well that was true enough. She was most certainly alive, although it’d been a close call on more occasions than she wanted to remember.

  “No thanks to my parents,” she agreed with a wry smile.

  “No one’s more surprised than I am that I survived their separate efforts to get me killed.”

  “Oh, it’s not that. We had no idea that Father had—”

  “Created a mongrel?” she helpfully supplied.

  “Created a sister for us.”

  Sister. Sally tested the word in her mind. It felt . . . strange. But terrifyingly wonderful.

  “Then I’m confused,” she said. “You said you were surprised I’m alive.”

  “No, we’re fascinated by the life force that shimmers around you.”

  Sally blinked. “Oh.”

  “You’re a vivid burst of energy that is nearly blinding,” Fallon continued. “We have all become too complacent with our existence. We drift from day to day, barely noticing that we have forgotten to live.”

  Sally tried to be sympathetic. Not easy when she’d spent most of her life being hunted like an animal.

  “A peaceful existence can’t be all bad.”

  “Peace is different from stasis,” Fallon pointed out, her calm demeanor not entirely disguising a bone-deep frustration that gnawed deep inside her. “We have forgotten the thrill of not knowing what will happen next. The breathless excitement of passion. The beauty of a future filled with endless possibilities.” She smiled with a wistful yearning. “For us, you are a breath of fresh air.”

  Sally moved toward her sister. She might not fully understand how anyone could not be content growing up in a family that at least seemed to care for one another and surrounded by such beauty, but she better than anyone understood that outward appearances meant nothing.

  “Fallon, are you not happy here?” she asked softly.

  The young female heaved a faint sigh. “I will admit that I have longed for the opportunity to travel away from our homeland.”

  That didn’t seem such an outrageous dream. Unless females weren’t allowed to travel away from their family?

  Many demon societies were still obnoxiously dominated by males.

  “Have you discussed this with your fiancé?” she cautiously probed. The last thing she wanted was to stir a mutiny between Fallon and the crimson-haired warrior who she’d introduced as her soon-to-be mate.

  Fallon instantly shook her head. “He would not understand.”

  “He would if he loves you.”

  “Love?” Her sister looked baffled by the mere concept of a love match. “Our marriage will be the joining of two powerful houses. Nothing more. The Chatri no longer seek their true mates.”

  Sally tried not to grimace.

  She was beginning to understand her sister’s desire to travel away from paradise.

  What woman wouldn’t want a fling before being forced into a loveless marriage that was destined to last an eternity?

  “That’s terrible,” she muttered.

  Fallon shrugged. “It’s our tradition.”

  “But . . .” Sally forgot what she was going to say when the chime of a bell echoed through the room. “What’s that?”

  Her sister stiffened, her teeth gnawing on her lower lip with a nervous gesture that was identical to Sally’s habit.

  “You must swear not to tell anyone,” she at last said, her voice so low Sally could barely hear her.

  Sally nodded, deeply curious. “I swear.”

  Hurrying across the room, Fallon locked the door before moving to a heavy tapestry that was hung on a far wall.

  “Watch this.”

  Fallon tugged aside the tapestry and pressed her hand against the paneled wall. There was a faint glow around her fingers before a hidden door slid open.

  Sally raised her brows in shock. “A secret room?”

  Fallon nodded, motioning for Sally to follow as she stepped through the door.

  Intrigued, Sally swiftly trailed behind her sister, not certain what to expect.

  Probably a good thing since she would never have guessed it would be a barren room that had been carved from pure stone. There were no windows, but fairy lights danced in the shadows of the low ceiling, revealing the numerous wooden bowls that had been carefully arranged on the stone floor.

  Each bowl was a different size and made from a different wood, but they each held a shallow pool of water.

  “Wow.” Sally gave a bemused laugh. “It’s like the Batcave.”

  Fallon frowned. “The . . . ah. Batman. That is a human television show, is it not?”

  “Yes.” Sally studied her sister in surprise. “How did you know?”

  “My talent is to scry beyond our homeland,” Fallon said. “I have long been intrigued by your world.”

  Ah. That explained the bowls. Sally had a basic ability to scry, but she needed an anchor to direct her, like a strand of hair to connect her to the person she was searching for. Not to mention the fact that it drained her to the point of exhaustion to maintain one search.

  She shook her head in wonder at the images that flickered nonstop on the surface of the water in each bowl.

  The amount of energy each scry must be sucking from Fallon was staggering, but she didn’t look the least affected.

  Amazing.

  “So why the secrecy?” she asked, knowing she’d be eager to display such talent.

  Fallon’s smile faded. “My . . . fiancé disapproves of my interest.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  Fallon tried to pretend indifference. “It doesn’t matter.”

  It did, of course. But what could Sally say?

  She didn’t know enough about her sister’s relationship with her fiancé to offer any advice.

  “What is the beeping?” she asked.

  Fallon moved toward a large bowl in the center of the floor. “Someone is ne
ar the entrance to our homeland. I made a warning device.”

  Very clever. A damned shame she felt she had to hide her talents.

  Absently joining Fallon, Sally glanced down at the bowl, her heart slamming against her ribs as she caught sight of the dark-haired vampire with pale silver eyes and a fierce expression.

  “Roke,” she breathed, a stark longing to be with her mate sending her to her knees. “Can he get through?”

  Fallon shook her head. “No. Not without a Chatri to open a doorway.” She pointed a slender finger toward the large blond who stood at Roke’s side in the middle of a field. They looked like they were arguing. “This is your vampire?”

  Sally shook her head. “The other one.”

  “Then who is his companion?”

  “His friend Cyn,” she said, too distracted to notice her sister’s odd tone. “I have to go to him.”

  She surged back to her feet, but before she could return to the outer room, Fallon was grabbing her arm.

  “No.”

  Sally hissed with impatience. Roke was near. She had to get to him.

  “Look, it’s been great to meet you, but Roke has sacrificed everything for me,” she said, trying to tug free. “I’m not going to allow him to think that I just abandoned him.”

  Fallon maintained her grip, her expression somber. “If you leave here to go to him, it will give Father the right to kill him.”

  A cold chill lodged in the pit of her stomach. “Kill him?”

  “You are a princess,” Fallon said, not seeming to remember that Sally was a mongrel. “No man who hasn’t been formally approved by her family is allowed to touch you.”

  Sally’s eyes narrowed as she remembered her father’s determination to bring her here. He must have realized that once he had her in his homeland she would be caught between a rock and a hard place.

  “So this was a setup,” she snapped. “If I leave, then I put Roke in danger. If I stay, he can’t reach me. Damn Sariel.”

  Fallon’s fingers tightened on her arm. “I have a plan.”

  Sally struggled to think past the red haze of anger that clouded her mind.

  “What?”

  Fallon glanced back toward the images dancing on top of the water.

  “You can’t go to the vampire, but I can bring him to you.”

  Sally sent her sister a suspicious frown. “And lead him to certain death?”

  “No,” Fallon protested in shock. “Bloodshed is forbidden here. Not even the king is allowed to strike out in violence.”

  “Oh.” Sally bit her bottom lip. “So once he’s here—”

  “He would be safe.”

  Sally’s lips parted to demand that Fallon do whatever necessary to protect Roke, only to falter when she caught sight of the grim determination etched onto her sister’s pale features.

  “What about you?”

  Fallon squared her shoulders, looking every inch a dignified princess.

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “Fallon—”

  “Please,” she interrupted Sally’s protest. “Let me help.”

  Sally hesitated before giving a slow nod. She hated the thought of allowing her sister to do something that might get her in trouble. Or worse. But, she had to get word to Roke.

  The goddess only knew what he would do if he discovered he couldn’t open the doorway.

  “What do you want me to do?” she at last asked.

  “Join Father in the throne room,” she urged. “I will bring Roke to you.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Fallon smiled with . . . was that anticipation?

  “Never more so.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Roke paced the center of the field, a murderous fury boiling his blood.

  After running at full throttle for the past seven hours, he’d at last homed in on his missing mate.

  She was here.

  He could feel her.

  Hell, he could even catch the scent of peaches.

  But he couldn’t get to her.

  It was as if she was sharing the same place, but in a different dimension.

  “Roke?” Moving to block his restless path from one end of the field to the other, Cyn studied him with a puzzled expression. “What are we waiting for?”

  “She’s here,” Roke muttered.

  Cyn glanced around the clearing that was hidden in the middle of the Canadian national park.

  “In the middle of an empty field?”

  Roke hissed in frustration. “I don’t know how to explain it, but she’s close.”

  Cyn nodded. “The doorway to the Chatri homeland must be near.”

  “How do I open it?”

  His companion hesitated before giving a shrug. “I don’t know that you can.”

  That was not the answer Roke wanted.

  He didn’t care what he had to do, he was getting back his mate.

  “There has to be a way,” he snarled.

  “We’ll figure it out, I swear,” Cyn said, attempting to soothe. “But we need to consider a place to stay for the day. Dawn is less than an hour away.”

  Cyn thought he would leave?

  When he’d finally pinpointed her location?

  Hell, no.

  “She needs me,” he stubbornly insisted.

  “Then you have to make sure you stay healthy enough to rescue her.”

  Roke rolled his eyes. “When did you turn into a mother hen?”

  “When . . .” The large vampire’s words dried up as there was a sparkle in the air less than a few feet away and a female figure suddenly appeared. “God almighty. It’s an angel,” Cyn croaked.

  Roke had to admit the stranger did look angelic.

  Her long, burnished gold hair surrounded a face so delicately carved it would make an artist weep in delight. Her eyes were faintly slanted and the color of amber with unexpected glints of emerald.

  As she moved forward the silk of her white gown caressed her tall, slender body causing the large rubies that were sewn along the hem to glisten like fire in the waning moonlight.

  Definitely angel material.

  Immune to her beauty, Roke stepped forward, struggling not to wrap his fingers around her neck and demand answers.

  “Where’s Sally?” he rasped.

  The unknown female glanced toward Cyn who had his gun pointed directly at her heart.

  “If you’ll put away your weapons I’ll take you to her,” she promised, her voice a brush of velvet over his skin.

  “Fine.” Roke took a step forward even as Cyn placed a restraining arm across his chest.

  “Wait,” he growled, keeping his gun pointed toward the female Chatri. “How do we know this isn’t a trap?” He glared at the woman. “If you have Sally then bring her out here.”

  She folded her arms, calmly ignoring Cyn as she held Roke’s gaze.

  “If I do, the warriors will destroy you.”

  Cyn muttered a curse at the implication he could be bested. The female clearly knew very little about male pride.

  “They could try,” he snarled.

  Again, the female ignored him.

  “Once you’re within our homeland they can’t touch you,” she promised. “Will you come with me, vampire?”

  “No, he damned well won’t. Not until we know—”

  “Cyn,” Roke sharply interrupted, glowering at his friend.

  “What?”

  “Back off.”

  Cyn growled as he lowered the gun, his muscles clenched as if he were expecting a full-out attack.

  “I don’t trust her.”

  Roke stepped around his bristling friend. He didn’t trust the female, either. But it wasn’t as if they had a whole lot of choice.

  “Take me to Sally.”

  She gave a dip of her head. “Follow me.”

  Turning, she disappeared into the strange sparkle of lights and Roke was quickly hurrying to join her.

  “Roke.”

  He glanced t
oward his companion who remained stubbornly at his side as they stepped through the entrance to the portal.

  “I know, but this might be my only chance to find Sally.”

  “You had better hope this isn’t a trick, fairy,” Cyn growled at the back of the female Chatri. “Your people might not shed blood in your homeland, but I’m quite willing.”

  “Barbarian,” she muttered.

  “Berserker, thank you very much,” Cyn informed her, his fangs fully exposed.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Roke asked.

  Cyn was always a lethal warrior, but he wasn’t usually so touchy. Especially not with a beautiful woman.

  The clan chief grimaced, as if realizing he’d been acting out of character.

  “She . . . troubles me.”

  Roke studied his friend’s tense expression. “Hmm.”

  There was the sensation of the air pressure shifting, then they were out of the portal and standing in a hallway lined with glossy wooden floors and marble walls nearly hidden beneath the climbing ivy.

  Roke and Cyn both hissed at the golden sunshine that peeked through high windows. Dammit. They had to be in a dimension that ran on a different time. Thankfully the angle of the sun meant that the glow hit high on the wall, leaving the actual corridor in shadows.

  “We must be swift,” the female warned, taking off at a brisk pace.

  Roke ignored Cyn’s icy disapproval, allowing himself to be led from one hallway to another.

  Eventually they became wider with more marble and gilt, not to mention a few passing Chatri who stared at them in startled dismay.

  “Mother of gods, I’ve never felt so out of place in my life,” Cyn muttered as they tried to ignore the elegantly dressed men and women who looked as if they were headed to some fancy-ass ball.

  “No killing,” Roke muttered as Cyn ran his fingers over the blade of his dagger, eyeballing a male who flared his nose as if he’d just smelled something nasty.

  Cyn shook his head. “You don’t know anything about having fun.”

  Sally pinned a smile to her lips.

  Seated next to her father on the high dais, she struggled to concentrate on the formal speeches being offered in celebration of her father’s return. Even if her nerves weren’t shredded as she waited for some sign from Fallon, she would hate being put on display.