When Darkness Ends (8 page)

“I did.” Levet moved toward him, his tail rigid with outrage. “Not that I appreciate being treated as a servant.”

Cyn arched a brow. “You don't want Fallon to be kept warm?”

“Of course I wish the
petite fille
to be warm. But I am a warrior of great renown. I should be given tasks that are suitable to my considerable talents.”

“What you are is a pain in the . . .” Cyn's muttered words were forgotten as the gargoyle reached up to snatch the scroll from his hand. “Hey.”

Levet frowned as he studied the spell. “What is this?”

Cyn narrowed his gaze as suspicion raced through him. “I thought that you said Siljar sent you.”

“She did.”

Cyn grabbed the paper back, ignoring the fact they were behaving like a couple of five-year-old humans.

“Then you should know what this is.”

Levet wrinkled his snout. “Siljar wasn't in the mood to share why I was to come here. In fact, she was acting in a most peculiar manner.”

“Obviously she just wanted an excuse to get rid of you.”

The gargoyle stuck out his tongue. Ridiculous pest.

“I do not know why you are being so secretive.” He pointed a claw at the spell in Cyn's hand. “It is not as if I can see what is written unless you remove the illusion.”

“Illusion?” Cyn froze, a strange chill inching down his spine as he held up the yellowed parchment. “On this?”

“
Oui
.”

“How do you know?”

“Illusions happen to be my specialty.” Levet preened, giving a flap of his wings. “Along with seducing beautiful women.”

Cyn dismissed the gargoyle's bloated ego, his gaze lowering to the scroll.

“Why didn't Siljar notice? Or even Fallon?” he demanded. “They both should have been able to sense magic.”

“It isn't a traditional spell.”

“What do you mean?”

“The writing itself is the illusion.”

Cyn shoved the scroll toward his companion. “Get rid of it.”

“
Non
.” Levet shook his head. “I cannot.”

Cyn released a trickle of power, a humorless smile twisting his lips as the gargoyle shivered at the pinpricks of ice that filled the air.

“You just said that illusions are your specialty.”

Levet rubbed his arms, his heavy brow furrowed. “If I break the illusion, the writing will disappear.”

“Damn.” Cyn shook his head. Why would a stranger leave a spell with the Commission that was hidden beneath an illusion? None of this made any sense. “Then what's the point?” he growled.

“Your eyes see this.” A claw touched the fragile paper. “But your mind sees the truth.”

Cyn scowled. “Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?”

“I am trying to explain—”

“Then say it in words I can understand,” Cyn snapped. He hated magic.

Having to deal with it made him . . . irritable.

“The spell appears to be mumbo jumbo,” Levet said, his brows abruptly lifting. “Have you truly been trying to decipher it?”

Cyn flashed his fangs. “Get on with it, gargoyle.”

“Party do-do,” the gargoyle muttered.

Do-do? It took Cyn a second to realize what the fool meant.

“Pooper, you prat.”

Levet waved aside the correction. “But beneath the magic it is like a subliminal message that becomes lodged deep in your mind.”

Reaching down, Cyn grabbed the pest by his horn, dangling him off the ground so they were eye to eye.

“Let me make this simple. I need to know what this says.” He waved the hieroglyphs in front of Levet's snout. “How do I do that?”

Levet pouted, but clearly realizing that Cyn's temper was reaching a critical edge, he resisted the urge to make some snarky comment.

Wise gargoyle.

“Perhaps a magical artifact would . . .” Levet gave a small squeak as Cyn dropped him without warning and headed toward the door that connected to his library.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered.

“Where are you going?” Levet demanded, following him like a stray puppy.

“When Siljar said there was something in my library that might help I assumed she meant a book,” Cyn muttered, too late realizing how dangerous it was to jump to conclusions. Reaching the doorway, he turned to point a warning finger at the gargoyle. “Wait here.”

“But . . .”

Cyn stepped into the library and slammed the door shut behind him. No one, absolutely no one, was allowed in his private sanctuary.

He swiftly moved across the book-lined room to the hidden panel just behind his massive desk. Laying a hand on the wood, he waited for the magic his foster parents had cast to recognize his touch. With a faint click the panel slid open to reveal the small cupboard filled with Erinna and Mika's most prized possessions.

It'd been Cyn who'd insisted on bringing the collection of magical artifacts to his hidden safe. The rare potions, crystals, and amulets were worth enough to encourage any number of demons to try and get their greedy hands on them.

He didn't want his family taking unnecessary risks.

It was his duty to protect them.

Which was why he was so aggravated that they'd deliberately put themselves in danger.

Tucking his concern for them to the back of his mind, he grabbed a large crystal off the top shelf and returned to the study.

He'd barely stepped through the door when Levet was hurrying toward him, the fairy wings buzzing with excitement. Unlike Cyn, the gargoyle would be capable of sensing the magic of the crystal threading its way through the air.

“What do you have?”

“Truth,” Cyn said, hoping his foster mother hadn't exaggerated when she'd said this particular crystal could not only force humans and weaker demons to speak honestly, but that it could see through written deception.

He could only hope it would work on an illusion.

“
Oui,
very clever,” Levet breathed, not bothering to hide his surprise. “At least for a leech.”

“Here.” Cyn shoved the crystal and piece of parchment into his companion's hands. He might want to strangle the tiny plague to his existence, but gargoyles were capable of manipulating many different kinds of magic. “Remove the illusion.”

Levet nodded, but he looked oddly wary as he held the crystal toward the unrolled parchment.

“Very well, but without knowing what is beneath . . .” There was the sound of a loud sizzle, then without warning a tangible cloud of evil spread through the room. Making a sound of disgust, Levet shoved the paper and crystal back into Cyn's hands. “
Mon Dieu
.”

Cyn shuddered. “What the hell?”

“It's coming from the spell,” Levet said, backing away with a grimace.

“Is it dangerous?”

“
Non
. At least . . .” The gargoyle gave a small shrug. “I do not think so.”

Cyn scowled. “Awesome.”

There was the faint sound of footsteps, then the door leading to the hallway was shoved open so Fallon could rush into the room.

“Are you hurt?”

Fallon hadn't known precisely what was causing the ripples of evil to sweep through the lair, but she hadn't hesitated to rush from her room to . . .

What?

To make sure that Cyn wasn't in danger?

How stupid was that?

He was a vampire. Hell, he was clan chief. And a berserker.

A demon would have to be demented to try and challenge him.

Still, she couldn't halt her agitated flight that led her to the large study.

Now she wiped her hands down the silky material of her robe, feeling like a total idiot as Cyn and Levet turned to watch her with matching expressions of surprise.

“Ah,
ma belle,
forgive me.” Levet was the first to recover, moving toward her to press a kiss to the back of her hand. “I have managed to remove the magic that disguised the spell.”

Her embarrassment was forgotten as her attention turned to the spell that Cyn held in his hand.

“Disguised?” She shook her head in confusion. “There was an illusion?”

“
Oui
.”

Without even realizing she was moving, Fallon was standing next to Cyn.

“Why didn't I sense it?”

“It was woven into the writing,” Levet explained.

“Odd.” She bent to study the markings, relieved that the weird sense of evil was rapidly dissipating. “It looks the same.”

“Almost.” Cyn moved to a low table, smoothing the piece of scroll until it lay flat. Then, gesturing for her to join him, he pointed a finger at the hieroglyphs. “The basic patterns are similar, but now it's . . . in focus.”

Fallon grimly concentrated on the symbols, refusing to acknowledge the tiny glow of happiness at being included.

Okay, he treated her as if she were a person with an actual brain. And he seemed to think she could contribute more than a pretty smile and the proper bloodline.

Still, that didn't mean he wasn't too large, too male, too . . . everything.

“Can you read it?”

“Not all of it.” His shoulder brushed hers as he used his finger to trace the symbols. “It's a confused jumble of hieroglyphs. Fairy, imp, and even human. But I can read enough to get a general idea.”

“Well?” Levet prompted, struggling to see over the edge of the table.

Cyn's finger halted at a hieroglyph that was made up of interconnecting circles. “This is a portal and these are the veils that divide the dimensions.” He moved to a half-moon shape with a line through it. “I don't recognize this.”

Fallon's breath tangled in her throat. “It's Chatri.”

“What does it say?”

“Destruction.”

There was a long, uneasy silence as they exchanged wary glances.

Finally Cyn asked the question that was obviously troubling him.

“Of the veils?”

Levet clicked his tongue, his wings drooping. “Not again.”

“No.” Fallon leaned forward, reading the part written in Chatri symbols. “It says ‘the destruction of pathways.'” She pointed toward the end of the page. “And here. ‘The entrances shall be forever closed.'” She paused, rereading the passages several times before she finally lifted her head to meet Cyn's searching gaze. “I think this is a spell to close portals. All portals.”

Cyn frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It would mean the end of travel between dimensions,” Levet said, his brow furrowed.

Cyn frowned. “That's it? That's all this spell does?”

“All?” Fallon pressed a hand to her heart. “It's . . .” She shook her head, too horrified to even come up with the words. The mere idea of closing travel between dimensions was insanity. Instead she turned her attention to the tiny gargoyle. “Is that possible?”

“That is the question, is it not?” Levet muttered, rubbing one of his stunted horns.

Fallon's shock shifted to fury. “If there is a spell that can prevent portals from being formed—even portals that open from place to place within this world—how would the fey travel?”

Cyn folded his arms over his chest, clearly baffled by Fallon's outrage.

“They would be forced to use human technology,” he said with a shrug. “Or use their feet like demons were meant to do.”

She sent the vampire a frustrated frown, her earlier pleasure in being treated as an equal forgotten at his complete lack of empathy for the fey.

Was he always so annoying or did he make a special effort just for her?

“Don't you understand?” she snapped. “My people would be completely cut off from this dimension.”

He gave another shrug. “You've been cut off for centuries.”

“By choice,” she said through gritted teeth. Then she grimaced, realizing she wasn't being entirely honest. “Or at least the choice of my father,” she clarified.

Levet deliberately cleared his throat. “And fairies wouldn't be the only demons either forced to return to their homelands or be separated from their families for the rest of eternity.”

The thick-skulled vampire abruptly stiffened. “Santiago.”

“Precisely. Not that I particularly care about your ill-mannered friend.” Levet gave a small sniff. “But lovely Nefri and her clan would be forever cut off from this world,” he continued, referring to the vampires that had chosen to live beyond the Veil. “And there is no way to predict exactly what the closures will do to the demons who remain here.”

“What does that mean?” Cyn pressed.

Fallon made a sound of disgust. “Typical. You didn't care what happened to the fey, but now that it affects vampires—”

“Magic comes into this world in many forms.” Levet hastily interrupted. “Some is the natural residue from demons, but there is a great deal that seeps through the veils that separate our dimensions.”

Fallon sucked in a deep breath, regaining her composure. Damn the oversized, arrogant . . . aggravatingly gorgeous vampire. She'd never realized she even possessed a temper until he'd come crashing into her world.

“This spell would stop the magic?” she asked, determined to concentrate on the looming disaster.

Levet nodded. “
Oui
.”

Naturally Cyn had to intrude. “What happens to the demons who depend on it?”

“All demons depend on magic to survive.” Levet deliberately held Cyn's gaze. “Even vampires.”

His jaw clenched. “You didn't answer the question.”

“It's impossible to know for certain,” the gargoyle confessed. “But there's a very real possibility that our powers will begin to fade until we—”

“Die,” Cyn completed the sentence.

The harsh word hung in the air before Levet gave a slow nod of his head.

“That is my fear.”

Fallon pressed a hand to her throat. As a Chatri princess she could return to her homeland, but what of all the lesser fey who would die? Not to mention all the other demons who would be trapped and condemned to a slow, painful death.

“Why would anyone even consider closing the portals?” she choked out.

“I intend to find out. But first . . .” Cyn glared in Levet's direction. “Can you get in touch with Siljar? She needs to know what we've discovered.”

The gargoyle wrinkled his snout. “I can try.”

Taking several steps backward, the gargoyle gave a dramatic lift of his hands, his eyes closed as he sent some sort of mental message to the Oracle.

Beside her, Cyn made a sound of disgust, his lips parting as if he were about to share his opinion of Levet's less than subtle style.

But before he could speak there was an ominous electric charge in the air, and without warning Levet was flying backward to hit the wall with a sharp thud before sliding to the ground.

With a muttered oath, Cyn was striding across the floor to grab the gargoyle by the horn, hauling him back to his feet.

“What the hell was that?”

“It would appear that Siljar isn't in the mood to be bothered right now,” Levet muttered, rubbing his backside.

Fallon bit her bottom lip. That didn't sound good.

“What does that mean?”

Levet gave a shrug. “Either she is truly busy and does not wish to be disturbed. Or—”

It was Cyn who finished the sentence. “Or she's under the control of someone, or something.”

Oh hell. It was just as bad as she feared.

“Do you think the person who is trying to manipulate the Commission sent them this spell?” she demanded.

“Aye,” Cyn muttered.

“So what do we do?”

Cyn returned to her side, staring down at the dangerous hieroglyphs.

“I have to discover who is behind the spell.” His jaw clenched. “And stop them before they can force the Commission to cast it.”

She frowned. “Don't you mean
we?
”

He sent her a stern glance. “I'm going to take care of this. You need to return to fairyland.”

“
Mon Dieu,
” Levet muttered, gingerly inching toward the door. “I believe that is my cue to leave.”

Neither of them noticed the gargoyle exiting the room, both intent on winning the glaring contest.

“I was brought here just as you were,” she reminded the arrogant man. “I have a duty.”

His gaze narrowed. “That was before we realized the magnitude of the danger. I'm sure Siljar would agree that you should travel back to your home.”

Fallon tilted her chin. “And I'm sure she'd expect me to complete the task she gave me.”

“Fallon—”

“No,” she interrupted.

It wasn't that she was particularly courageous. Or that a part of her didn't want to rush back to her father's palace where she'd be removed from the danger. But she'd been brought to this world for a reason, and she wasn't leaving until the job was done.

No matter what the oversized vampire might say.

Turning, she headed for the door.

“Wait,” he growled from behind her. “We aren't done discussing this.”

Her retreat never faltered. “A discussion implies an equal exchange of ideas. You were giving me a command and expecting me to obey.” Reaching the door, she paused to glance over her shoulder. “I don't take orders from you.”

A scowl pinched his brows together, his fangs fully displayed, but before he could continue the argument, she was out the door and headed back to her rooms.

 

 

Over the next few hours, Fallon spent her time either monitoring the bowls or resting in her bedroom.

She wasn't hiding from Cyn. Of course she wasn't.

It was just that . . .

Okay, she'd been hiding. With a grimace, she forced her feet to carry her down the stairs and through the vast catacomb of rooms.

Being around the vampire clan chief was like being thrown into a raging storm.

She'd lived her life in endless golden peace. No changes. No surprises. Just one sunny day after another.

Now she was suddenly staying in a dark castle, spying on demons who could crush her with a mere thought, and stuck with a vampire who turned her into a woman she didn't recognize.

She should have been horrified. Instead, she'd never felt more alive.

Suddenly she was surrounded by a whirlwind of emotions. Fear, annoyance, excitement, and a potent desire that haunted her even when she was asleep.

It was no wonder her instincts were warning her to try and minimize the impact of this world on her.

It would be hard enough to return to her homeland when this strange adventure came to an end. How much harder would it be if she allowed herself to become even more addicted to the intoxicating feelings that sizzled through her?

But waking just as dusk was falling, Fallon had come to a firm decision.

No more hiding.

She didn't know how much time she was going to have in this world. She was going to savor every second.

With her decision made she'd hopped into the shower, then defiantly pulled on the jeans and lavender sweater that Cyn had given her. With her hair left loose to tumble down her back and her cheeks flushed, Fallon barely recognized herself in the mirror.

Gone was the perfectly groomed princess, and in her place was the real woman beneath the façade.

Her father would be horrified.

Moving from room to room, Fallon had finally halted in the paneled chapel, her fingers reaching to lightly trace the delicately carved altar. She didn't need to be told that it was the work of Cyn. It was obvious in every perfect line and curve that created the image of a sturdy tree growing out of the tiled floor.

Right on cue Fallon felt the distinct chill that warned a vampire was approaching.

Slowly turning, she watched as Cyn appeared from the shadows, her breath squeezed from her lungs as she took in his large body covered by a pair of faded jeans and a cashmere sweater that was the precise jade green of his eyes. His blond hair was still damp from the shower and the braids that framed his bluntly chiseled face were threaded with tiny glass beads that caught the dim candlelight.

He was a big, gorgeous warrior with the soul of an artist.

Precisely the sort of man that had filled her girlish fantasies.

Excitement fluttered through the pit of her stomach, her heart pounding as he strolled past the pews to stand directly in front of her.

For a long minute he studied her in silence, taking a slow, thorough survey of her slender body. Starting at her feet that she'd left bare, his gaze traveled up the jeans that hugged her long, slender legs and then over the sweater that outlined the curve of her breasts. His nose flared, his hands clenching at his side as if he were battling a strong emotion.