“Styx?” she breathed as the strangest sense of peace began to flow through her. She could see nothing but his black eyes, hear nothing but his soft, persuasive voice.
“You are very tired, Darcy,” he soothed. “You must forget the troubles of this night. Forget Levet returning from Salvatore’s. Forget the pictures.”
Her lashes were fluttering downward even as she battled against the dark compulsion. “But…”
“Forget, Darcy,” he breathed. “Now sleep.”
She did.
—
Viper gave a shake of his head as he studied the small picture.
“The resemblance is remarkable,” he agreed, lifting his head to watch Styx as he paced the small office of Viper’s downtown club. “And Darcy knows nothing of the woman?”
“Nothing.” Styx forced himself to halt next to the elegantly scrolled Louis XIV desk that perfectly matched the rest of the delicate French furnishings. By the gods, he had paced more in the past week than he had in a millennium. And it was all because of Darcy Smith. “She was… disturbed by the pictures. Especially after Levet was foolish enough to admit he had discovered them in Salvatore’s safe.”
Perhaps sensing something in Styx’s voice, Viper slowly rose to his feet and studied him with searching curiosity.
“Disturbed? What do you mean?”
Styx gritted his teeth as the image of Darcy lying deeply asleep in her bed stabbed through him.
He hadn’t harmed her. In fact, he had quite certainly saved her from her own stupidity. Dammit, she had been hell-bent on plunging into Salvatore’s devious plot.
All he had done was make sure that she would awaken this evening and remember nothing of the past twenty-four hours. She would be safe in his care, where she belonged.
So why did he feel as if he had somehow betrayed the one woman who brought more to his life than dull duty and endless responsibility?
Viper gave a lift of his brows. “Styx?”
Styx gave a restless shrug, his fingers absently tugging at the amulet about his neck.
“Like all humans, she has a tendency to leap to conclusions without the least amount of evidence. She is quite convinced this woman is a blood relation to her. Perhaps even her mother.”
Viper shrugged. “It is a rather logical conclusion. The resemblance is uncanny. It cannot be a coincidence.”
By the gods, was he the only one with any sense left?
“We know nothing yet. This may simply be a clever ploy by Salvatore to lure Darcy into his lair.”
“Hardly clever,” Viper said.
Styx stilled. “What do you mean?”
“You said that Levet discovered the pictures hidden in a safe?”
“Yes.”
“Surely if the Were intended to use the pictures to lure Darcy into his lair he would have brought them with him when he first approached her in the bar.” Viper pointed out softly. “Or at the very least when he managed to slip past your defenses to meet with her. He can hardly do much luring with them locked in a safe.”
Styx wasn’t stupid. He had considered the strange notion that Salvatore hadn’t tried to use the photos before now.
He had at last concluded that the reasons changed nothing.
At least not as far as Darcy was concerned.
“Who can say what is in the mind of a dog?” he rasped.
“True enough, I suppose,” Viper agreed, his eyes nar rowing. “How is Darcy?”
Styx sharply turned to regard the pastel watercolor that graced the wall.
“She is well.”
There was a short pause and Styx dared to hope his icy tone would put an end to the unwelcome probing.
Stupid, of course.
Nothing short of a wooden stake would put off Viper once he had his fangs sunk in.
“You said that she was disturbed by the pictures,” he pressed.
He flinched as he remembered the vulnerable hope that had shimmered in her eyes.
“More than disturbed. She was determined to rush to the werewolves lair and demand explanations,” he rasped.
“Hardly surprising. Shay has taught me that humans possess a great need for family. It seems to bring them a sense of comfort and security.”
Family?
What did Darcy need with a family? Especially one that could not be bothered to care for her when she most needed them.
Besides, she now had him and his Ravens to provide her comfort and security.
“It also seems to steal whatever common sense they might claim. She would endanger everything, even herself, over a foolish picture.”
“It’s not so foolish to her.”
Styx turned his head to stab his friend with a fierce glare. “I won’t allow her to play into Salvatore’s hands. There’s too much at risk.”
“You’re speaking of the treaty between the Weres and vampires?”
“That, and, of course, Darcy’s own safety.”
“Ah.” Viper grimaced. “Of course.”
“What?”
“I don’t suppose Darcy is very happy with you at the moment?”
It was Styx’s turn to grimace. “She was less than pleased.”
“You had better keep a close eye on her, old companion,” Viper warned. “I sense that beneath her sweet smile lies a will of iron. If she decides to sneak away it will not be easy to stop her.”
Styx closed his eyes as a surge of regret twisted his stomach.
“There is no fear of that.”
“You’re very certain of your charm.”
“It is not my charm I’m certain of. I have taken measures to ensure she will do nothing rash.” His cold tone revealed none of the unfamiliar emotions that were plaguing him.
“What sort of measures?” Viper gave a low hiss. “Styx? Did you alter her memories?”
Hell, he needn’t sound so shocked. It was what vampires had been doing from the beginning of time.
“It was the only reasonable solution.”
“Devil’s balls.” Viper gave a slow shake of his head. “You play a dangerous game.”
“It is no game.”
“No, it is not. It is one thing to enthrall a passing stranger; it is quite another to use your powers over a woman you have taken to your bed.”
With stiff movements Styx gathered his cloak and slipped it over his shoulders. He needed no reminders that he had blatantly used Darcy’s trust against her. Or that while she would have no memories of the previous evening, it would haunt him for an eternity.
“I have only done what was necessary.”
He had reached the door when Viper’s soft words reached him.
“Perhaps, but if Darcy discovers the truth there will be hell to pay.”
Chapter Twelve
It was nearly midnight when Darcy awakened feeling oddly disoriented.
No, it was more than disoriented, she acknowledged as she showered and pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.
There was a fuzzy thickness in her head, as if someone had packed it full of cotton.
Strange considering she couldn’t be hungover. She didn’t drink (rather ironic considering she was a bartender). And she didn’t feel as if she was coming down with a nasty bug.
Could it be that the blood she had been donating to Styx was beginning to take its toll?
Troubled by the faint headache and niggling sense that all was not well, Darcy made her way downstairs.
No doubt a good meal and a breath of fresh air were all she needed.
And perhaps a vampire kiss or two.
The thought was enough to warm her blood and bring a weak smile to her lips as a familiar silent form slid from the shadows at the bottom of the stairs.
“Good evening, DeAngelo.”
The demon performed a small bow that always managed to catch Darcy off guard. Even though vampires seemed to adapt to the vast changes they must endure over the centuries, they still retained a hint of old-world manners that were rarely displayed
in this day and age.
“Lady Darcy.”
Lady. She ran a rueful hand through her short, spiky hair. Not freaking likely.
“Have you seen Levet or Styx?”
Straightening, the demon regarded her from the depths of his cowl. “I believe they have traveled to Viper’s.”
A stab of disappointment raced through her before she could ruthlessly squelch it.
Jeez.
She really had tumbled into the realms of la-la land.
“Okay.” She managed another weak smile. “Is dinner ready?”
“It is prepared and waiting for you in the kitchen.”
“Great.”
There was another elegant bow. “If there is anything else you need, you have only to tell me.”
Darcy skirted the vampire and made her way to the kitchen.
The Ravens didn’t frighten her, but they did occasionally make her feel a bit squirrelly. She wasn’t used to having so many people around her, human or demon. At times she felt like a peculiar experiment being closely monitored by a herd of scientists.
Even when she couldn’t see them, she could feel their gazes following her.
Of course, there were some benefits, she acknowledged as she entered the kitchen to discover a vegetable casserole waiting for her in the oven and a large bowl of fresh fruit already set on the table.
After filling her plate, she took her place at the table and prepared to enjoy the delicious dinner.
She had barely settled in her chair, however, when a wave of dizziness swept through her and she nearly tumbled to the floor.
What the heck?
Her hands lifted to press against her temple. Along with the dizziness there was the strangest sense of deja vu that was stabbing through her brain.
It made no sense. It was as if there was a memory trying to surface, but someone else’s memory, not her own.
Trying not to panic at the uncomfortable sensations, Darcy sucked in a deep breath and battled to make some sense of the images.
There was something… Levet, yes. The gargoyle was standing in the kitchen holding an envelope in his hands. And she was reaching for it…
What was in the envelope?
Pictures.
Pictures of herself. And someone else.
Her head throbbed, and then, with a sharp motion she was on her feet.
“That son of a bitch,” she hissed with trembling fury.
Styx knew something was wrong the moment he approached the secluded estate.
He could feel the vibrating tension of his Ravens as he drove through the high, iron gate.
After pulling the Jag to a squealing halt before the door of the mansion, Styx shot out of the car and charged into the house.
The first thing that hit him was the unmistakable stench of smoke.
Holy freaking hell.
There had been a fire. And very recently. Perhaps not a shocking scent in most Chicago homes in winter. Humans quite often burned logs to ward off the northern chill. But a vampire would rarely allow an open blaze anywhere near. Especially not within his lair.
Without slowing his charge, Styx passed through the darkened foyer and into the living room, where he discovered DeAngelo and two other Ravens speaking in low voices.
At his entrance they turned to regard him with troubled expressions. His heart squeezed with sudden unease.
For a vampire to look troubled meant that there was something terribly, horribly wrong.
“What has happened?”
“Master.” DeAngelo offered a deep bow. “I fear we have failed you.”
The unease became an unbearable howling fear. “Darcy? Has she been harmed?”
“No, my lord, but she has… escaped,” the vampire revealed with obvious self-disgust.
For a blinding moment Styx could feel nothing but overwhelming relief. Darcy wasn’t hurt.
He could bear anything but that.
Styx ignored the Ravens, who studied him with stoic apology. It was taking a staggering amount of effort to compose his normally cool and logical mind.
At last he managed to latch onto a few coherent thoughts.
The first being the unpleasant realization that there had been some urgent need for Darcy to have escaped.
He didn’t believe for a moment that she had simply awakened and decided to escape his “evil” clutches. After all, she had been with him for days and had never made an effort to flee.
His effort to wipe her memories had clearly been unsuccessful.
The thought twisted his stomach with dread.
Dammit, he should have taken into consideration that she wasn’t entirely human. After all, there were any number of demons capable of withstanding the enthrallment of a vampire.
If she had managed to remember, then she not only was missing, but more than likely was already searching out Salvatore.
Bloody, bloody hell.
“How?” he abruptly demanded, his sharp tone making the waiting vampires flinch.
“She started a fire in the kitchen, and while we were distracted she used the tunnels to make her way out of the house,” DeAngelo confessed.
So that explained the smoke.
“Clever of her,” he grudgingly admitted. “She managed to comprehend the one certain means of distracting a house filled with vampires.”
DeAngelo flashed his fangs in annoyance. “It was not so clever that we should have been fooled. I have no excuse.”
Styx waved aside the dark words. His only thought was following Darcy and bringing her back where she belonged.
“How long has she been gone?”
“Less than two hours.”
“Two hours?”
“The fire was started shortly after midnight, but we didn’t notice Lady Darcy missing until a few moments ago.”
A cold fear sliced through his heart. Two hours? It was too long. “Damn. She could be anywhere by now.”
“Will you go in search of her?”
Styx briefly wondered if his second in command had lost his mind. Not even all the demons in hell could stop him from tracking down Darcy Smith.
Of course, you will have to take care, a warning voice whispered in the back of his mind.
He didn’t doubt for a minute the estate was being constantly watched by the Weres. But if Darcy had managed to leave without them seeing her, he certainly didn’t want to alert them to the truth.
With any luck at all he might be able to track down the aggravating woman and have her back before she could discover a means to contact Salvatore.
Luck.
He squashed the urge to howl in frustration.
He was a vampire who depended on cool logic and perfectly executed plans. He did not trust his fate to fickle luck.
Not until tonight.
May the gods have mercy on him.
The taxi dropped Darcy off at a run-down warehouse in a run-down industrial park.
It wasn’t the nicest neighborhood. Actually, it was dark, dirty, and unnervingly isolated. But with the meter ticking away she didn’t have a lot of options. Her small amount of cash wasn’t going to take her far.
Still, the warehouse south of Marengo wasn’t a bad place to wait for Gina to arrive with her belongings.
It was hardly the first spot anyone would look for her, and since it had been nearly gutted by a fire about three months before, she had a vague hope that the herd of vampires who were no doubt on her trail would fail to catch her scent among the lingering odor.
Not the best of plans, but it wasn’t as if she had a dozen better ones to choose from.
She had known she would have one chance, and one chance alone, to escape from Styx. There had been no time for complicated schemes and failproof plots. She had set the fire, said a prayer, and taken off through the tunnels as fast as she could.
The mere fact that she had managed to flag down a taxi and travel this far was nothing short of amazing.
Wrapping her arms about her waist to ward
off the sharp chill, Darcy stomped her feet and peered into the thick darkness.
After what seemed an eternity she heard the unmistakable sound of Gina’s piece of junk car and she hurried to the side door where she had told her friend to meet her.
Within moments Gina was hurrying toward the door, excitement crackling about her with a near tangible force.
“Darcy? Holy guacamole, it’s you.”
Darcy gave a nervous glance around the empty lot before pulling Gina into the warehouse. “Of course it’s me. Who did you think it would be?”
Gina shrugged. “I thought you were dead.”
Darcy blinked in astonishment. “Why on earth did you think I was dead?”
The slender woman dropped the heavy bag she was carrying onto the floor.
“Well, duh. You disappeared from work without a trace, you didn’t answer your cell, you weren’t at your apartment, and the pizza joint you deliver for said you hadn’t shown up for any of your shifts. What was I sup posed to think?”
“Oh.” Darcy had never actually considered the thought that anyone would think she had died. Cripes. What about her jobs? Her apartment? If she found herself on the streets again she really was going to stake that damn vampire. “Did you call the police?”
Gina appeared startled by the question. “No.”
“Even though you thought I was dead?”
“Dead is dead.” Gina shrugged. “It’s not as though the police can bring you back or anything.”
“I suppose you have a point,” Darcy ruefully acknowledged. She couldn’t really blame her friend. Gina did many things to make ends meet, not all of them legal. “Did you manage to get the money for me?”
“Yeah, it was hidden in your locker just like you said.” Gina kneeled by the leather bag and opened the zipper. “You know, I would never have thought to hide it in a tampon box.”
Darcy chuckled as Gina handed her the fifty-dollar bill she always kept hidden in one spot or another.
“Even the most determined thief seems allergic to feminine hygiene products.” She slipped the money into her pocket. “What about the coat?”
“I brought it, although I can’t imagine you wearing the nasty thing.” Gina pulled out the frayed army jacket that belonged to one of the bouncers. She grimaced as she handed it to Darcy. “It smells just like Bart. Ugh.”
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