Darkness Unleashed (14 page)

“My suggestion would be to stop digging your own grave, imp,” Jagr said dryly.

“She asked.”

Regan regarded the imp in disgust. “You sold out your friend because you thought the cur was hot?”

“No, I sold him out because the cur handed over a butt load of money.”

“Nice.”

“Hey, Culligan would have done the same in my position.”

Regan couldn’t argue with his logic. Culligan was an amoral, spineless turd who would sell his soul for a buck.

“Did the cur say what she wanted with him?”

“She said he’d failed in his duty to the curs, and that he needed to be punished.”

“That’s not all she said, is it?” Jagr abruptly insisted.

“She might have mentioned using him as bait.”

“To lure Regan to Hannibal?”

Gaynor flinched at the ice edging the vampire’s voice. “She didn’t say. I’m not precisely her confidant. More like her stooge.”

“Where is she?” Regan demanded.

“I don’t know, but it must be near the river.”

Jagr frowned. “Why do you say that?”

“I could smell it on her.”

Jagr’s frown deepened. “Her scent wasn’t masked?”

“Masked?” Gaynor widened his pale green eyes. “How does a cur mask her scent?”

Regan didn’t need to be a mind reader to know the imp was lying. Casting a covert glance toward Jagr, she held her tongue as he gave a faint shake of his head. For whatever reason, he didn’t want to challenge Gaynor.

“Did she come alone to meet you?” he instead asked.

“She came inside alone, but there were a half dozen curs surrounding the shop.” There was no pretense in the flash of anger that rippled over his face. “The dolts completely ruined my daffodils. Oh, and the bitch took off with an entire batch of my peanut butter fudge.”

Regan blinked. Okay, that was…weird.

“Why would she take your fudge?”

Gaynor stiffened, as if offended by the question. “Because it just happens to be the most famous fudge in the state. Perhaps in all of America.”

Jagr snorted. “And it’s hexed to compel the unwary to crave it like a drug.”

“You can’t prove that,” Gaynor hissed.

Regan glanced toward Jagr. “Can curs be hexed?”

“They’re more susceptible than pure demons,” he answered before turning back to the imp. “Has she been back for more?”

Gaynor shifted nervously closer to the bushes. Idiot. Did he actually think he could outrun a vampire?

“When I opened the shop two days ago, she was waiting for me,” he grudgingly confessed.

“For fudge?”

“For fudge, and to make another offer,” he said slowly.

Regan gave a lift of her brows. “An offer for what?”

There was an odd pause, then with a movement so swift that it caught both Jagr and Regan off guard, Gaynor knocked aside a pile of branches to reveal a shimmering, swirling mist that seemed to hang in the darkness.

Although Culligan had never had the power necessary to create a portal, Regan had witnessed other imps weave a doorway in thin air. She’d always been fascinated by the magical gateways when they’d been at a distance. She wasn’t nearly so delighted to have one close enough to tumble through.

“The offer is for you, Regan,” the imp admitted, reaching to grasp her arm.

More astonished than frightened, Regan felt herself being yanked toward the swirling portal. She instinctively struggled, but the imp was unexpectedly strong as he planted his feet and scooted backward, inching her closer and closer to the opening.

Intent on their private battle, neither heard the warning growl from the furious vampire, not until he was lunging forward.

“No,” he roared, shoving Gaynor with enough force that it wrenched Regan’s arm from his grasp.

It also tumbled both of them backward.

Straight into the waiting portal.

“Jagr.”

Crawling on her hands and knees, Regan watched in horror as Gaynor disappeared into the shimmering mist, still entangled with the furious vampire. Oh, God, no. She reached out, her fingertips brushing the tip of Jagr’s heavy boot just as the portal pulsed, flared, and then disappeared with an audible snap.

Suddenly alone in the darkness, Regan stared at the spot where Jagr had disappeared, as if stupidly waiting for him to jump out of thin air.

Christ. He was gone. He was really, really gone.

And she didn’t have a chance in hell of following him.

“Shit, shit, shit.”

Regan jumped to her feet, running through the night at full speed. Culligan had never shared the secrets of imp magic, but there had to be someone who knew how to trail a person through a portal.

Indifferent to the dangers that might lurk in the shadows, Regan returned to the truck still parked in front of the tea shop. Hopping into the driver’s seat, she switched on the key that Jagr had left in the ignition, and struggled to force it into gear.

She’d never actually driven before, but how hard could it be?

The thought had barely passed through her mind when she stomped on the long pedal that made the car go forward (at least it did on TV), and with a squeal of tires she slammed straight into one of the lovely dogwoods that lined the quiet street.

Well, crap…maybe it wasn’t as easy as she’d thought.

Turning off the engine, she tumbled out of the truck and sprinted between the nearest houses, heading directly north. Her head throbbed from where it had banged into the windshield and the neighborhood dogs were already howling at her presence, but at least she wasn’t in danger of massacring any more innocent trees.

Leaping a wooden fence, she briefly considered Jagr’s annoyance when he’d discovered she was running like a maniac through the streets without a care to any curs that might be lurking nearby. No doubt she’d have to listen to his furious lecture on her lack of brains if he…

A sharp pain ripped through her heart.

No, there were no ifs.

She would find him.

And he would be okay.

Nothing else was acceptable.

Refusing to contemplate the panic that churned through her stomach, Regan weaved her way through town. She caught the distant scent of a dew fairy and the even more distant scent of a hellhound prowling through a Dumpster, but nothing leaped out to eat her, so putting down her head, she called upon her considerable powers and plunged through the fields and meadows with a speed only a vampire could match.

The scenery was no more than a blur as she concentrated on retracing the path back to Tane’s isolated lair.

At last she could see the crumbling red brick chimney in the distance, and ignoring the growing stitch in her side, she dodged past an abandoned barn and leaped over a small creek.

It never occurred to Regan that she might not be welcomed at the vampire stronghold without Jagr at her side. At least not until Tane’s massive form abruptly vaulted from the second-storied balcony to block her path to the door.

Skidding to a halt, Regan barely avoided colliding into the very broad, very bare chest.

“Tane.” She pressed a hand to her thundering heart. “God, you scared me.”

Pinpricks of pain stabbed into her flesh as Tane allowed his power to be released into the night.

“Where’s Jagr?”

She was smart enough to feel a jolt of fear at the fierce expression on Tane’s beautiful face, but she was too concerned for Jagr to truly appreciate just how dangerous her position might be.

“He was taken through a portal by an imp,” she said in a rush, too rattled to spell out more than the most pertinent information. “I can’t find him.”

Thankfully, Tane didn’t press for details. It was enough to know a brother was in trouble.

His long, lethal fangs emerged, along with a dagger he pulled from the waistband of his khakis.

“Stay here. I’ll try to pick up his trail.”

“Wait, I want to go…”

Ignoring her urgent demand to be taken with him, Tane slid past her and silently disappeared into the dark.

Regan clenched her teeth, knowing she’d never catch him.

“Damned vampires.”

Briefly considering her limited options, Regan at last heaved a sigh and climbed the steps to the wide verandah.

She could return to the golf course and hope to stumble across a means to follow Jagr, but she wasn’t so full of herself to believe that she would have better luck than a trained vampire assassin, who no doubt had had several hundred years to perfect his skills. The painful truth was she would likely be more a burden than help.

There was also the option of simply walking away and washing her hands of Jagr and everyone else determined to force her into a family she didn’t want or need.

It wasn’t as if she owed them anything.

Okay, Jagr had come in handy a time or two. Hell, he’d just saved her from being pulled into the damned portal.

And no woman, no matter how innocent, could deny that he was a world-class lover who’d made her first experience one she would remember for all eternity.

Still, he was possessive and bossy and ruthlessly worming his way into her heart. That alone should be enough to send her screaming into flight.

She didn’t…of course.

Mere logic couldn’t overcome the desperate need to rescue the aggravating beast.

Even if that meant doing the one thing she’d sworn she would never, ever do.

Squaring her shoulders, Regan entered the abandoned building, easily finding her way down to the basement where she was met by a military looking vampire guarding the opening to the lair.

Since he didn’t attack at her approach, Regan could only assume that Tane hadn’t left standing orders to kill on sight. In fact, the vampire actually bowed, making Regan halt in shock.

Was she supposed to bow back?

Curtsey?

She shook away the inane thoughts as the vampire straightened and regarded her with a stoic expression.

“May I be of service?”

Regan briefly struggled against the bitterness she’d nurtured for thirty years. It was an ugly battle filled with less than admirable emotions.

Pride, envy, festering resentment.

Yeah, ugly. But thankfully short.

Less than a heartbeat passed before she was sucking in a deep breath and taking the irrevocable plunge.

“I need to contact the Anasso,” she said, relieved when the words came out almost steady.

“Here.” Without hesitation, the vampire pulled a cell phone from the pocket of his camouflage pants. He flipped it open and scrolled through his contacts before handing it to her. “It’s a direct line.”

Regan took the phone and, not giving herself time to consider the consequences, punched the send button.

There was a buzz on the other end, then before Regan was entirely prepared, a low, commanding voice came on the line.

“Tane?”

“No.” Regan was forced to stop and clear the lump from her throat. It had to be Styx. Who else would have a voice even more arrogant than Jagr? “No, this is…Regan.”

There was a shocked pause, then the leader of all vampires softened his tone.

“Regan, I cannot tell you how good it is to hear your voice,” he murmured. “Darcy has been most anxious to speak with you.”

Her jaw clenched, but she refused to be distracted. “Maybe later.”

She could sense the moment he realized that this was not a social call.

“Tell me.”

She did.

Jagr hated magic.

As a vampire, he’d become accustomed to being firmly on top of the food chain.

He was the bump in the night that scared all the other creatures.

For all his powers, however, he had no defense as Gaynor plunged the two of them into the portal, and he was surrounded by the relentless sting of the strange mist that seemed to bite into his skin with malicious glee. He had a brief moment to savor the knowledge he’d managed to keep the imp’s filthy hands off Regan before he was flung out of the portal with enough force to slam his head into a cement wall.

Briefly disoriented, he didn’t realize that magic wasn’t the only danger. Not until he heard the slam of a heavy metal door and he turned to discover he’d been locked in a cell that was custom-made to hold demons.

Any demon.

Including vampires.

Furiously wiping the blood from his forehead, he slowly turned, allowing his senses to flow outward.

His first realization was that they were deep below ground (which at least meant no early morning sunrise), and that the cement walls and ceiling were several feet thick. His next realization was that there were a number of hexes etched on the walls, and thick steel doors that were specifically created to drain the strength of any demon stupid enough to become trapped.

A dark, vicious dread curled through him.

It had been centuries since he’d been locked in a cage, but the memory was still vivid.

Starkly, painfully vivid.

He clenched his jaw, curling his hands into fists. Madness threatened to consume him. The same madness that had led to the bloody slaughter of his previous captors.

For a perilous moment he teetered on the edge, his ancient torment surging through him like a destructive wave. Then without warning, the image of Regan flashed through his mind and the panic receded.

Grasping onto the thought of the beautiful Were, Jagr pulled back from the darkness.

By the gods, he would not allow himself to lose control when Regan needed him. Nothing mattered but finding a means to escape so he could protect her.

His thoughts cleared until he was once again in command, although that didn’t keep him from being seriously pissed off.

Trapped by a worthless imp.

He’d never live it down. With a hiss of frustration, he moved to swing his arm against the door, belatedly discovering there’d been enough silver mixed with the metal to make his forearm smolder.

“Gaynor, let me out,” he roared, able to smell the imp on the other side of the door.

“Damn you, vampire,” the imp’s muffled voice echoed through the air. “Why did you have to interfere?”

“You have just signed your death warrant, imp.”

“Shit.” Jagr could pick up the sound of Gaynor’s anxious pacing. “I didn’t ask to get involved in this mess. I wish that stupid cur had never come into my shop.”

“Your regrets are just beginning,” Jagr growled, his frustration deepening as he sensed his powers beginning to weaken. Dammit. Regan was out there alone. He had to get free. “Let me out and I might just consider letting you live.”

Gaynor laughed bitterly. “Do you think I’m stupid? I may be a pathetic imp living in a podunk town, but even I’ve heard of Jagr, the crazed Visigoth chief who slaughtered an entire clan of vampires. If I let you out, I’ll be dead before I can blink.”

The imp wasn’t entirely wrong. On any other night, Jagr would be foaming at the mouth and unable to consider anything but the need to rip the imp into a hundred pieces.

Tonight, however, his only concern was Regan.

“Allow me to leave here unharmed, and I swear…”

“Forget it, vamp. I’m not opening that door.”

“Then what do you intend to do. Kill me?” he challenged.

“And have a rabid posse of vampires out for my head? No, thank you.”

Jagr was forced to take a step from the door as the burn of silver seeped through his clothing.

“You think my clan is not already on the hunt?” he rasped.

Even through the thick door, Jagr could hear the imp’s rapid heartbeat. His fear was tangible.

“They can’t track me through a portal.”

“It doesn’t matter, the world isn’t big enough for you to hide,” Jagr deliberately taunted.

“Holy freaking hell.” There was more pacing. “None of this is my fault.”

Jagr hissed. “You endanger a pureblooded Were and kidnap a vampire, and you claim it’s not your fault?”

“All I did was invite Culligan to Hannibal,” he whined. “I didn’t force the damned Were to follow. And for your information, I didn’t have any intention of trying to capture Regan, no matter how much money Sadie offered.”

“You spineless liar.” Jagr’s fangs ached with the need to sink deep in the imp’s throat. “You deliberately led us to that spot where you had a portal waiting.”

“Only after you tracked me to the tea shop,” he desperately argued. “You came after me—I didn’t go looking for trouble.”

“But you were swift to try and take advantage.”

“Give me a break, vampire,” Gaynor muttered. “I’m an imp. What did you expect when you dropped the Were into my lap like an overripe plum? The curs are offering a damned fortune to get their hands on her.”

The curs. Always the curs.

Someday soon he intended to rid the world of the mangy dogs.

Someday
very
soon.

“And instead of a fortune, all you’ve earned is a death sentence.”

Gaynor’s heartbeat raced to the point where Jagr wondered if it might burst. Then, without warning, the imp was moving swiftly away from Jagr’s cell.

“No, I’m not taking the fall for this,” he swore as he left. “Sadie got me into this, she can damned well get me out.”

Left alone in the darkness, Jagr tilted back his head and screamed in fury.

Standing in the middle of the empty cave, Sadie viciously kicked the young male cur curled into a tight ball of misery on the ground.

She’d crouched for hours in the darkness, watching for some sign of Regan and the vamp to emerge from the cave. Or at least to make some indication that they were preparing for the coming dawn.

At last she’d grown bored with the waiting.

Patience was for losers, not for curs destined to make their mark in the world.

Creeping up the steep bluff, Sadie motioned for the cur she’d commanded to keep guard to join her. She didn’t have an actual plan in mind. She only knew that she was tired of hiding and plotting with nothing to show for her efforts.

Despite the lingering scent of vamp and Were, Sadie didn’t have to reach the entrance of the cave to realize that it was empty. Infuriated, she realized that not only had her prey escaped, but she’d been well and truly fooled by a few scraps of clothing.

With a sharp motion, she’d knocked her companion to the ground. Someone was going to pay for this latest disaster.

“You worthless piece of crap. How dare you let the Were escape.” She punctuated her words with kicks, readily ignoring the fact that she was equally responsible for allowing the two to disappear. Shit rolled downhill. It was never her fault if there was someone else to blame. “I told you not to take your eyes off this cave.”

“I didn’t, I swear.” The cur grunted as her foot connected with his cheek. “The vampire must have used his shadows to hide behind.”

Sadie clenched her fists. She didn’t like being reminded that there were demons out there who possessed skills far beyond a mere cur.

“I don’t need your lame excuses. It was only luck that we stumbled across the Were’s trail that led to this lair in the first place. How the hell are we supposed to find them now?”

The cur tried to dig deeper in the dirt, as if that would protect him from the brutal kicks.

“I thought you intended to lure her to the cabin with the imp.”

Sadie growled. For God’s sake, was the cur suicidal? He was pushing every kill-me button she possessed.

“And just what do you expect me to do with her pet vampire while I’m busy capturing her?” she gritted, her skin crawling with the need to shift. “Politely ask him not to kill me? Maybe I should invite Salvatore along as well?”

Belatedly sensing Sadie was at the edge of her control, the cur wisely resorted to shameless pleading.

“Forgive me, mistress, I beg of you.”

“Forgiveness is not in my nature, stupid bastard.” Preparing for another kick, Sadie was interrupted by the buzz of the phone she’d stuck in her pocket. “Saved by the bell, worm. Or should I say, the vibration?” Ignoring the useless cur cowering on the ground, Sadie pulled out the phone and lifted her brows as she read the name flashing across the screen. Snapping open the phone, she pressed it to her ear. “Gaynor, tell me you have good news.”

He didn’t.

Her already strained temper threatened to combust as she listened to his stumbling, bumbling confession of capturing Jagr by mistake.

“God, I’m surrounded by morons,” she gritted, her mind already sifting through the implications of this latest mess. “Where are you?” He offered hesitant directions, clearly not overly anxious for their impending meeting. Which proved he wasn’t entirely stupid. “You’d better hope I can use this to my advantage, imp, or I’ll eat your heart for breakfast,” she warned before cutting the connection and shoving the phone back into her pocket. Reaching down, she grasped the cringing cur by the hair and yanked him to a kneeling position. “I have a new task for you.”

He nervously licked his lips. “How may I serve?”

“Regan is separated from her vamp. I want you to take the remaining curs and find her.”

“But…”

She tossed him backward, watching as he slammed into the wall and slid to the ground.

“Don’t screw this up.”

“Yes, mistress,” he managed to croak.

Regan’s conversation with Styx was nothing if not to the point. She revealed no more than the fact that Jagr had been taken by an imp and, in turn, he promised he would be at Tane’s lair within twenty-four hours.

Short and sweet.

But Regan wasn’t gullible enough to believe that it was a simple phone call.

Or that it wouldn’t have long-term consequences.

Having accomplished all she could, Regan returned to the rooms Tane had offered them, and over the next few hours she learned every inch of them.

She clocked in a dozen miles pacing from one end to the other. She rearranged the small kitchen, she folded her new clothes, and placed them neatly back in the bags. At last she lay down on the bed, desperately hoping to catch the lingering scent of Jagr, only to discover whoever had come in to clean the lair had changed the sheets.

Not that a change of sheets could erase the memories of Jagr’s tender touch, or the icy-fire of his kisses.

There wasn’t a power in the world that could accomplish that feat.

Ignoring the clang and whistle and outright screams of alarm that sounded in the back of her mind, Regan snuggled deeper into the mattress, allowing the image of Jagr poised above her, his expression one of fierce bliss as he thrust in and out of her body, to fill her thoughts.

Once he was safe, she would return to her futile battle of pretending she could walk away from him and all his unwanted complications without a twinge of remorse.

For now she simply needed to hang on to the ruthless certainty he would be rescued.

Time passed until Regan could feel the heavy sensation of the approaching dawn. Although she didn’t fear the sun like the vampires, she possessed the blood of Were. She was by nature called to the night.

She shoved herself off the bed, a horrible dread lodged in the pit of her stomach.

Christ, if Jagr didn’t return soon, he would be trapped until sunset.

Always assuming he wasn’t being held somewhere that the sun could…

No.

Enough of this waiting. She might not possess the skills of an ancient vampire, but at least she could function during the day.

Storming into the hideous living room, Regan skirted past the whirlpool and was a mere step from the door when it flung open to reveal Tane’s massive form.

“Well?” she demanded, knowing the answer before he even shook his head.

“I could find nothing.”

“Damn.”

The golden features tightened. “As soon as the sun sets, I will return to the hunt.”

“I called Styx,” she absently muttered, her thoughts centered on Jagr and the overriding need to be doing…something. Anything. “He’ll be here tonight with the cavalry.”

Unexpectedly, Tane reached out to touch her cheek, his touch almost gentle.

“Jagr will be found, Regan.”

Frustration flooded through her at the flat certainty in his voice. “Yeah, but before he’s been staked or beheaded or tossed into the sun?”

The vampire shrugged. “The curs want you. They’ll keep him alive if they think they can use him to lure you into a trap.”

She clung to that hope, but it didn’t ease the desperate need to find and rescue Jagr.

“Even if that’s true, he’ll be kept locked up. Maybe even tortured.” She held the dark gaze, willing him to understand. “Tane, he can’t go through that again. It might break him.”

Only the lengthening of his terrifying fangs revealed that Tane not only understood, but was infuriated by the thought of his brother being harmed.

“Even if he could be found, there’s no way to rescue him now. The sun’s already rising.” His tone indicated his opinion of the sun. It wasn’t good. His fingers brushed down her cheek, before he dropped his hand and stepped back. “I know you’re concerned, but our hands are tied until darkness falls.”

She made a restless motion, her inner wolf at the end of its patience. “I can’t just wait.”

The dark, faintly slanted eyes narrowed. “You do know that Jagr will decapitate me if anything happens to you?”

“Do you intend to keep me from leaving?”

His lips twisted, no doubt sensing the impending battle. “No, pretty wolf, I suspect that Jagr isn’t the only one who’s had enough of prisons.” His voice hardened with warning. “Just don’t get yourself killed. My health depends on it.”

“I’ll do my best,” she dryly promised.

Stepping back into the hall, Tane paused to send her a speaking glance.