Bound By Darkness (31 page)
Authors: Alexandra Ivy
Her hand dropped as she regarded him with confusion. “Agenda?”
“Look around you, Nefri,” he urged softly. “This isn't a shrine to loss.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It's a symbol of hope.” Plucking the gown off the shelf, he shook it beneath her nose. A dead wife didn't need a new gown and her favorite shoes. “He wasn't saying good-bye, he was preparing to be reunited with the woman he adores.”
“Impossible,” she denied, even as her eyes darkened with a growing dismay.
He understood her reluctance to consider the thought that her clansman might be a raving lunatic beneath his careful façade.
Hell, Santiago didn't want to believe it.
Even after Gaius had abandoned him.
But they didn't have the option of sticking their heads in the sand.
“Perhaps, but if the Dark Lord was able to convince Gaius he could return Dara, do you think there's anything he wouldn't do to make it happen?” he asked, waving a hand toward Dara's portrait. “Including betray his own people?”
Without warning she was out of the cramped chamber and crossing to the open doorway.
“We must tell the Elders what we have discovered.”
Rushing forward, Santiago grasped her upper arm and pulled her around to meet his stubborn glare.
“And then we go to Styx and warn him.”
“Yes.”
He blinked, wondering if he'd been whisked into some bizzaro land.
“No arguments?”
The pale, perfect face was impossible to read. “No arguments.”
“
Dios
. I suppose there truly are miracles.”
Dios
. I suppose there truly are miracles.”
Chapter 22
Kneeling in the swirling mists, Ariyal cradled Tearloch's motionless body in his arms.
A part of him understood that he was surrounded by danger. And that he should be searching the fog for his missing mate so they could get the hell out of there. But a greater part was lost in the searing pain of taking the life of his brother.
It didn't matter that Tearloch had betrayed his tribe. Or that he'd led his fellow tribesmen into the vile hands of the wizard.
Or even that he'd spent the last few seconds of his life trying to take off Ariyal's head.
For countless centuries they'd been brothers, standing side by side in battle and offering each other comfort after spending time in Morgana's bed.
Their ties went too deep to be destroyed by a few weeks of madness.
Lost in his grief, Ariyal was barely aware of Jaelyn's silent approach. Not until she lightly touched his shoulder.
“Ariyal.”
“I couldn't reach him.” His gaze never left the lifeless silver eyes. They had once shimmered with amusement or flashed with fury. Now they were empty. A reminder of what had been stolen. “I had no choice.”
She bent down beside him, her expression filled with sympathy.
“I'm sorry.”
He gave a slow nod. “Is the wizard dead?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” A fierce stab of satisfaction pierced his heart. “He's the first to pay for twisting Tearloch's mind and nearly destroying my tribe. But he won't be the last.”
She squeezed his shoulder, offering a comfort that helped to blunt the sharp edges of his pain.
“Ariyal, I feel your grief, but we have to get out of here.”
He frowned at the throbbing urgency in her voice. “You said the wizard was dead.”
“He is, but when he died his blood was ...” She grimaced, searching for the word she wanted. “Absorbed by the child.”
“Absorbed?”
“There's no other way to say it.”
He didn't fully understand what she was talking about, but he could feel the fear that beat through her. Gently laying aside his brother, he rose to his feet, watching as she straightened.
If Jaelyn was scared, then something really bad was going on.
“Where's the child now?”
“It's no longer a child.”
“The Dark Lord?”
“Yes.”
“ Damn.”
After everything they'd been through, everything they'd sacrificed, they were still too late.
“What happened?”
“After Tearloch's death, the wizard became mortal. I didn't even consider the consequences when I put a bullet through his brain.”
“Jaelyn.” He grasped her face, attempting to ease her rising panic. “It's going to be okay.”
“No, it's not.” She shook her head. “He's resurrected. Or I guess she is. Or whatever.”
Still trying to sort through her flustered explanation, Ariyal froze at the wash of electricity that suddenly danced over his skin.
“Jaelyn,” a female voice cooed, slicing easily through the fog.
Suddenly he understood his mate's panic. That voice alone was enough to crush his will to leave.
Jaelyn dug her fingers into his arms, her eyes wide. “Can you get us out of here?”
“Not in this spot,” he admitted. “We need to get back to where we entered.”
“What difference does it make?”
“The barrier was thinner there.” He shrugged, hoping she didn't realize that he was flying on a wing and a prayer. “I might be able to use a portal to get us out.”
It said a lot about her faith in him that she didn't hesitate, grabbing his hand to pull him through the fog.
“Let's go.”
Or maybe it wasn't faith, he wryly conceded, struggling to keep up with her impressive speed. Maybe it was the fact she was scared spitless and desperate to get away from the monster in the mist.
He didn't blame her.
His skin felt as if it were being flayed from his body as the Dark Lord's power spread outward, the air so dense he could barely breathe.
Jaelyn didn't hesitate as she continued through the disorienting mists, almost as if she knew exactly where she was going.
A relief considering he didn't have a damned clue. The constantly shifting landscape was screwing with his sense of direction.
He could only hope his ability to open a portal wasn't similarly affected.
After running what felt like miles, Jaelyn at last began to slow her relentless pace. Then without warning she came to a complete halt.
Not that Ariyal was about to celebrate.
The frown marring her brow warned that she wasn't stopping because they'd reached their point of entry, and they were about to escape the endless hell of white mist. But because something was troubling her.
Glancing over her shoulder she rubbed her arms, as if struck by a sudden chill.
“Is it my imagination or is the fog getting thicker?”
He studied their surroundings, his heart sinking. “It's not your imagination.”
She growled in frustration; then they both stiffened as they caught the faintest scent weave through the air.
“Do you smell that?” she whispered.
“Were. Two purebloods.” He drew in a deep breath, trying to capture the elusive scents as they disappeared as swiftly as they appeared. “And they're vaguely familiar,” he admitted, unable to pinpoint where he would have met with the purebloods, although he suspected it had something to do with his time spent with Tane and Laylah. “As if I crossed their paths before.”
“This just keeps getting stranger and stranger,” she muttered.
Ariyal stiffened as the purebloods' scent was replaced by two others.
“And stranger,” he said, bending down to whisper directly in her ear.
He felt her tension as she tilted back her head to meet his warning gaze.
“The magic-using cur.” Her voice was equally low, her fangs visible in the eerie light.
Her memories of the cur weren't warm and fuzzy.
“And a vampire.”
“Shit.” Her anger shimmered through him as he confirmed her earlier suspicions. “How the hell did they get in here?”
“A question to ponder later.”
“Yeah.”
Clenching his hand in a grip that would have crushed the bones of a lesser man, Jaelyn resumed their trek through the seemingly eternal whiteness.
Well, not exactly a trek.
Her pace had slowed until a snail could give her a run for her money and her path zigzagged like a drunken sailor. He wisely held his tongue. Now didn't seem like the best time to question her ability to lead.
At last she came to a halt, giving up any pretense she knew where they were going.
“The fog is too thick,” she growled. “There's no way to tell which direction we're headed. We could spend the rest of eternity stumbling through this damned stuff.”
He shifted to pull her into his arms, resting his head on top of her head.
“We'll wait here. At least for a while. The fog is bound to thin out eventually.”
She snuggled against him, seeking comfort even as she gave a snort of disbelief.
“I doubt we'll last that long.”
“Well, aren't you just a bundle of sunshine?” he asked dryly.
“I'm allergic to sunshine.”
Despite his grief and the acute fear that they were well and truly trapped, Ariyal managed a faint smile.
It didn't matter what was happening so long as he was holding Jaelyn in his arms.
They stood in silence for several minutes, each drawing comfort from the other. Then the moment was destroyed as the pungent odor of dog intruded into their fragile sense of peace.
“The cur,” he whispered. “And close.”
Expecting her to take off through the mist, Ariyal was caught off guard when she instead wrapped her arms tightly around his waist.
“Don't move.”
He glanced down in surprise. “I approve of your enthusiasm, poppet, but now is not really the time or place.”
Ignoring his protest, she pressed even closer and without warning, Ariyal felt her cold power wrap around him.
What the hell was she doing?
The cur was only a few feet away. And right behind him was the vampire.
Moving directly toward them.
They had only seconds to escape.
Instead the frigid air continued to wrap around him and, trying to halt his shivering long enough to prepare for battle, he belatedly realized that the mists had grown darker.
No.
It wasn't the mists.
Jaelyn was wrapping them in her shadows.
Shadows that could hide them from even the most highly trained hunter.
Gritting his teeth against the bone-deep cold, Ariyal held on to Jaelyn, amazed as the darkness thickened to the point he could barely see beyond the barrier. Damn. He hoped that Jaelyn's superior eyesight was better suited to see through the shadows.
His hearing, however, was as acute as ever, and he had no trouble overhearing the conversation between the cur and the vampire.
“You have made certain that the prophet can't escape?” the vampire demanded, his speech oddly formal, as if he hadn't spent much time mixing in the world.
Not that unusual.
There were many vampires who would disappear into their lairs for decades, even centuries at a time. It took a while to stop sounding like someone out of a time capsule.
Besides, Ariyal was more concerned with
what
he was saying than
how
he was saying it.
what
he was saying than
how
he was saying it.
The prophet.
They had captured the pureblood Were who Jaelyn had informed him was a true seer. Along with the information that it had been Cassandra's timely foreseeing that had warned Tane not to kill Ariyal.
He owed her one.
Always assuming he was given the opportunity to repay the debt.
“She and the Were are being held in stasis until the master has fully regained his powers,” he heard the cur reassure the vampire.
“A wise choice, no doubt,” the vampire approved. “We do not wish to risk our prisoners escaping.”
“No.” There was a short, revealing pause. “But still it is a pity to waste the talents of a true seer.”
Ariyal and Jaelyn exchanged a knowing glance.
The cur had ambition.
Something that could be used to their advantage.
“Knowledge of the future is power,” the vampire retorted, his cold voice edged with warning. “And power is something our master does not share.”
Either too oblivious or too stupid to heed the admonition, the cur pressed his point.
“Especially if the future doesn't please him.” There was a humorless laugh. “As he's proven in the past. How many prophets did he have killed before he was banished?”
Ariyal sensed the vampire coming to a halt, as if irritated with his companion.
“Is there something troubling you, Dolf ?”
“It was one thing to perform the duties of our beloved prince when we were hidden in the shadows,” the cur complained, “but now that we've come out of the closet things are about to become a whole lot more dangerous.”
“It was inevitable.”
The cur made a sound, as if he hadn't actually thought through the fact they would eventually be exposed.
“But the danger would be considerably lessened if we had an early warning system. Who knows what the seer could tell us?”
There was a tense pause and Ariyal wondered if the vampire intended to kill the cur.
It wouldn't be a bad choice considering that the Dark Lord might very well destroy anyone near the cur if he learned of his traitorous thoughts.
“How long have you served the master?” the vampire at last demanded.
“What does it matter?”
“Because the stupid rarely survive more than a few decades,” the vampire explained in smooth tones.
The cur growled. “Are you calling me stupid?”
“It is either that or suicidal if you believe you can double-cross the Prince of all Darkness.”
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