Bound By Darkness (26 page)
Authors: Alexandra Ivy
Simple and straight to the point.
For once, it worked.
Hallelujah.
Clenching his jaw, he forced himself to draw in a calming breath and speak to the Anasso in a voice that wasn’t deliberately intended to provoke the vampire.
“What’s your plan?”
Styx slid his sword into the scabbard that ran the length of his back, his own expression altering to one of commanding efficiency.
“I have three Ravens performing sweeps through a five-mile perimeter to make sure nothing is allowed to sneak up on us.”
Ariyal tilted back his head, testing the air. “I smell Were.”
Styx lifted a brow, as if caught off guard by Ariyal’s ability to detect the distant scent.
“Salvatore is in the area searching for the curs who attacked you,” he admitted.
Ariyal wasn’t pleased. “Will he be joining us in the caves?”
“Not unless absolutely necessary.” Styx smiled without humor. “He was trapped down there not long ago. He’s in no hurry to repeat the performance.”
Jaelyn briefly wondered if the Were was responsible for the damage in the lower levels. Well, the initial damage. Ariyal had done his own share.
Then she was struck by a sudden thought.
“Did you warn him that the cur is a magic-user?” Styx nodded. “Yes, as well as the fact he’s traveling with what we suspect is a vampire that has unusual talents.”
Jaelyn very much wondered about the strange vampire and exactly what Styx was hiding, but before she could press for an answer Ariyal was speaking.
“You might also warn him that Sergei is still lurking around, along with that damned gargoyle.”
There was a rustle from the trees that lined the nearby graveyard before the unmistakable scent of granite wafted on the air.
“Hey,” Levet protested, waddling forward with a wounded expression. “I just rescued you from a fate worse than death.”
“You rescued me?” Ariyal made a sound of disgust. “Don’t you have that backwards?”
“Oh.” Levet blinked, coming to a halt next to Jaelyn. “Do I?”
Ignoring the rueful amusement of the vampires, Ariyal glared at the tiny demon.
“Where’s the mage?”
Levet cleared his throat, his tail twitching. “He might have escaped.”
“
Might
have?”
Might
have?”
“Very well, he escaped.” Levet’s wings fluttered in a shimmer of color. “Is that what you desired to hear?”
“No, it’s damned well not what I wanted to hear.” Ariyal looked as if he could happily have turned the gargoyle into a teeny pile of rubble. “I specifically told you to keep an eye on him.”
“I could hardly keep an eye on him when it was daylight, could I? Gargoyles have needs.” With an offended sniff, Levet turned to offer Jaelyn a charming smile. “Ah,
ma enfant
, I see that you are unharmed. I was so concerned.”
ma enfant
, I see that you are unharmed. I was so concerned.”
“Not now, Levet,” Styx growled.
Levet blew a raspberry toward the towering vampire, but with an impatient curse Ariyal leaned down to grab the gargoyle by the horn and turn him back to meet his fierce glare.
“Did you try to track the mage?”
“Of course I did.”
“And?”
“And he must have an amulet to mask his scent.”
Ariyal hissed in frustration. “So you have no idea where he went?”
Levet wisely stepped out of reach of the Sylvermyst, waving a hand toward the entrance to the caves.
“His footsteps led in this direction.”
“Shit.” Ariyal sprinted toward the caves. “The baby.”
“Wait.” Styx muttered a curse when Ariyal ignored his command. “Fifteen minutes, Sylvermyst.”
Jaelyn was swiftly following Ariyal as he darted into the caverns and headed down the nearest tunnel. She understood his concern. If the mage actually managed to get his greedy hands on the child and escape they might never track him down.
At least not until it was too late.
And if he screwed up and got caught then the wizard and Tearloch would be on guard, making it almost impossible to locate Ariyal’s tribesmen without attracting unwanted attention.
They had reached the lower levels of the caverns when Ariyal came to a sudden halt, turning to face her.
Jaelyn frowned, her senses on full alert. “What is it? Do you sense something?”
The bronze eyes shimmered with an emotion that seared her to the tip of her toes.
“You’re my heart and my soul,” he breathed.
“As you are mine.” She lifted herself on tiptoe to press a tender kiss to his lips. “We’ll face whatever comes together.”
He wrapped her in his fragrant heat. “Together.”
Chapter 20
Tearloch leaned over the pool of water where Rafael had scryed the image of a half-dozen vampires currently hovering near the entrance to the caverns.
No, not just vampires, he silently corrected, a sick sensation twisting his gut into knots. It didn’t take a genius to recognize the towering Aztec and the lethal predators that stood at his side.
The Anasso and his Ravens.
“God dammit,” he breathed. “I told you that you were wasting too much time.”
The wizard ignored Tearloch’s complaints, waving his hand over the water to zoom in on a vampire with dark hair and silver eyes who looked like a pirate with a bad attitude.
“Dante, how exquisitely appropriate,” Rafael murmured, a disturbing smile curving his lips.
“You know the vampire?”
“He was responsible for my death.” An eerie chuckle filled the cavern. “Now I intend to return the favor.”
Tearloch clenched his hands, the sharp burst of fear slicing through the cobwebs in his mind.
“Are you insane?” he demanded. “We have to get out of here before we’re trapped.”
Rafael clicked his tongue in resigned disappointment. “You are always in such a hurry to run, Tearloch.”
“Being intelligent enough to realize when I’m outnumbered has kept me alive,” Tearloch pointed out, his hands clenching at the sneer curving the wizard’s lips. “Obviously it’s a lesson you failed to learn.”
The red flames flared in the spirit’s eyes, the stench of the grave filling the cavern.
“Our master has no place at his side for cowards.”
Tearloch pointed toward the images reflected in the water. “You truly think you can defeat a half-dozen vampires?”
“We will be invincible once we have resurrected the Dark Lord.”
It was a promise that had been whispering in the back of Tearloch’s mind since leaving Avalon. Now, however, the seductive promise was more than a little tarnished.
“Then why didn’t you perform the ceremony when you had the chance?” he accused the worthless wizard. “Now it’s too late.”
“It’s never too late.”
“No? Your precious altar is buried deeper than ever thanks to Ariyal.”
Rafael’s gaunt face tightened with remembered fury. “Yes, he will pay for that, but for now we shall have to create a new altar.”
Tearloch scowled at the smooth words. A new altar? After they’d wasted days trying to unblock the destroyed tunnels?
“If that was one of our options then why the hell did you waste our time trying to dig out the old one?”
“Because I assumed you would disapprove of my methods.”
“Why would I disapprove?”
Rafael waved a bony hand. “You seem to be rather attached to your tribesmen.”
Was that supposed to be a joke?
“What do my tribesmen have to do with your altar?”
“You are not stupid, Tearloch.” Without warning the spirit moved to stand next to the child, who was cradled on a flat rock in the center of the cavern. The dark robes flowed around his skeletal frame as he bent down to study the babe, who remained locked in a deep sleep. “The Dark Lord demands a sacrifice. The altar must flow with blood.”
Shock blasted through Tearloch at the unemotional pronouncement that he would have to watch his brothers being slaughtered like helpless lambs.
But why?
He’d known from the moment he’d conjured Rafael that he was an immoral bastard who would willingly destroy the world to sate his lust for power.
What was a little thing like murdering an entire tribe?
The knotted muscle of his jaw made it almost impossible to speak.
“ No.”
“Yes.” Rafael stabbed him with a ruthless glare. “There is no other means.”
“You treacherous snake.” Tearloch instinctively backed away, having a dim recollection of Ariyal’s warnings. Why hadn’t he listened to his prince instead of allowing himself to be swayed by the voices that filled his mind with confusion? “This has been your plan all along, hasn’t it?”
The wizard straightened, his hand toying with the pendant around his neck.
“Plan?”
Tearloch bumped into the far wall, his stomach cramping with horror.
“Gods, I’ve been so blind. You deliberately lured me and my brothers to these caves.”
“Do not be an idiot,” Rafael snapped.
“You’re right to fear the wizard,” a voice assured him and Tearloch turned to watch as Sergei stepped into the cavern looking considerably worse for the wear with his silver hair tangled and his once-exquisite suit torn and filthy. But there was an arrogant confidence on his slender face as he moved to stand at Tearloch’s side. “I did warn you, if you will recall.”
“Mage.” Rafael made the word sound like a curse. “I should have known you would turn up like the proverbial bad penny.”
Sergei never allowed his attention to waver from Tearloch, a frantic gleam in his pale eyes.
“Listen to me, Sylvermyst. The spirit can’t be trusted.”
“And I suppose you are prepared to swear that your motives are purely honorable?” Rafael mocked.
The mage shrugged, still keeping his attention locked on Tearloch.
“I’ve never hidden my ambitions, but my plans to resurrect the master have never included slaughtering my allies.”
There was a low hiss from the wizard, his power swirling through the air and seeping through Tearloch’s mind, trying to confuse him with that terrifying fog.
“That is because you do not possess the skills or the power needed for the ceremony,” Rafael said in a low, singsong voice that sought to entrap the listener. “You may be capable of bluffing the gullible, but I am not so easily fooled. Nor is Tearloch.”
Sergei grasped Tearloch’s arm, sending a prickle of magic over his skin, no doubt in an attempt to counter Rafael’s spell.
“You know nothing, wizard.” Sergei’s fingers dug into Tearloch’s arm. “My powers are greater than you could ever imagine.”
Rafael’s derisive laughter bounced off the smooth walls. “No, you are the one who must imagine them because they do not exist except in your fantasies.”
The mage whirled toward the taunting wizard, his face red with fury.
“Shall I prove how wrong you are?”
Tearloch shook his head, wondering if he was the one who was insane.
“We’re about to be massacred by vampires and you two want to waste time measuring your magical dicks?” he rasped.
Rafael waved his too-thin hand, something that might have been frustration burning in his pitiless eyes.
“I want you to realize that the mage cannot fulfill the promises he made to you.”
Tearloch snorted. “Right now all I care about is getting the hell out of here.”
“A wise choice,” Sergei murmured.
The wise choice would have been to remain loyal to Ariyal as all his instincts had urged, he silently told himself. A damned shame he was only realizing the truth when it was too late.
“Get the child,” he commanded the mage.
“Of course.”
Sergei warily moved forward, his gaze on the wizard, who was frowning at Tearloch in disbelief. Clearly he couldn’t believe that his sway over Tearloch wasn’t as great as he’d thought.
“Do not be hasty, my friend.”
“Hasty?” Tearloch’s laughter held an edge of hysteria. “Like an idiot I’ve allowed both of you to manipulate and use me to gain the best advantage for your own glory. But no more. I’m done with this game.”
“I have promised to perform the ceremony,” the wizard reminded him in that captivating voice.
Tearloch pressed his hands to the wall behind him, concentrating on the smooth stone beneath his palm in an effort to block out the wizard’s voice.
“And yet, you always have an excuse why it must be delayed.”
Rafael glanced toward Sergei, who continued his tentative approach toward the babe before he was smiling with malevolent anticipation.
“Very well.”
With a dramatic lift of his hands, Rafael shook back the sleeves of his robe and began to weave his fingers in a complicated pattern. It couldn’t have looked more clichéd. The scary-ass-looking wizard in satin robes. A dark, spooky cavern. A horde of vampires about to attack.
Tearloch might have laughed if it hadn’t been so achingly sad.
Then those waggling fingers began to glow with an eerie light that spread through the air, shimmering like a portal.
“What are you doing?”
“Thinning the veils between our world and the Dark Lord.”
He might have thought it was just another trick if it weren’t for the distinct change in air pressure as the shimmer widened until it was the size of a typical doorway.
“That’s the ceremony?” he asked, a strange dread pooling in the pit of his gut. “A wiggle of your fingers?”
“It is the beginning.” Moving with a startling speed, he was standing at the base of the flat rock, blocking the child from Sergei. “We will use this as a temporary altar. Of course it must be sanctified.”
Tearloch stepped forward, reaching over his shoulder to pull his sword from its leather scabbard.
“I told you I will not sacrifice my brothers.”
Rafael merely smiled, his hands shifting toward the mage. “Then it is fortunate that we have Sergei’s blood to offer.”
“No.” Sergei tried to back away, only to discover that he’d been caught in the wizard’s spell.
Rafael chuckled as he made a sharp gesture with his hand. “Come to me, mage.”
The mage gave a strangled groan, his hands clawing at his throat, as if he was being choked by an unseen force.
“Tearloch, help me,” he pleaded.
Rafael moved to stand directly before the mage. “Do you refuse to be of service to our beloved master, Sergei?”
Tearloch licked his lips, watching the two magic-users with a swelling sense of regret.
This was what he had so desperately wanted, and yet now that the moment was here, he would have done everything in his power to turn back the clock.
“That’s all you need to resurrect the Dark Lord?”
“Of course it isn’t,” Sergei managed to spit out, falling to his knees as his face turned a peculiar shade of puce. “He merely needs my blood to part the shroud between worlds enough that the Dark Lord can slaughter you and your brothers. Only then will the master share his spirit with the chosen child.”
“Shut up,” Rafael snarled, moving to knock the mage to the ground before shifting his attention to Tearloch. “He seeks to betray you, Master.”
“No.” Tearloch shook his head, his thinking clear for the first time in weeks. He pointed the sword at the creature he had so foolishly called from the grave. “You’re the one who has betrayed me. Now I’m going to banish you back to the hell you crawled out of.”
“You leave me no choice, Sylvermyst,” the wizard growled, releasing his magical hold on Sergei to point his hand toward Tearloch.
In the process of severing his connection to the spirit that kept Rafael anchored in this world, Tearloch was unaware of just how dangerously exposed he left himself.
Not until a blinding light filled his mind, scouring away all thought and bringing a brutal end to his brief taste of independence.
Tearloch was lost.
Crushed beneath the will of the wizard.
Ariyal sensed his tribesmen shadowing them as they entered the lower tunnels.
Impatience gnawed at him as he continued to jog forward.
Dammit. Time was slipping away. He had to convince his brothers to leave before the vampires attacked.
A little difficult when they were making it clear he was an unwelcome intruder.
But he wasn’t stupid enough to try and pull rank on them.
Commanding them to stand and talk was likely to earn him an arrow in the back.
Or worse.
Acutely aware of Jaelyn’s barely leashed frustration as she followed behind him, he deliberately turned into one of the larger caverns. It had reached the point of now or never.
Thankfully, it was now as the Sylvermysts at last took the bait and, leaving the shadows, surrounded him and Jaelyn in a tight circle.
“That’s far enough.”
Ariyal stood motionless as the tall, slender Sylvermyst with long amber hair pulled into a queue at the nape of his neck and pewter eyes moved to stand directly before him.
Their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills before Ariyal acknowledged his brother with a faint dip of his head.
“Elwin.”
Other books
3.5. Black Magic Woman by John G. Hartness
If I Let You Go by Kyra Lennon
Smoke Signals by Catherine Gayle
Children of the Elementi by Ceri Clark
Blue Skies on Fire by Zenina Masters
House Call (Hideaway) by Scott, Elyse
Raven Moon by Eva Gordon
Julia Vanishes by Catherine Egan
Storm Front by Monette Michaels
