As he stepped forward the vampires’ attention never wavered from his large form as they lifted their crossbows and pointed them directly at his heart.
Lovely.
He had never expected to be beloved as the Anasso of the vampires. They weren’t the type of race to fawn over or pamper their leaders. It was more a dog-eat-dog kind of mentality.
Still, it wasn’t often that a vampire dared to threaten his very existence.
There would be hell to pay for this little stunt, he acknowledged with a flare of anger.
Drawing himself to his full height, he deliberately pulled off his cape to reveal the massive sword strapped to his back.
It was a sword that was feared throughout the world.
“I am Styx, your Anasso,” he said in a tone that carried throughout the yard. “Lay down your weapons or you will be judged.”
Just for a moment the vampires wavered, their anxious gazes revealing they weren’t entirely indifferent to the knowledge that they were committing an offense that could have them all strung up and left for the dawn.
Before their nerve could completely break, however, the back door opened and the three vampires who had remained in the house appeared.
“Hold steady, you cowardly bastards. If he escapes I will personally see each of you dead.” The obvious leader moved down the steps to stand directly before Styx. Although several inches shorter than Styx and barely half his weight, there was a mocking expression on his gaunt face as he performed a deep bow. “Ah, the great Anasso.”
Waiting until the vampire straightened, Styx studied the pale green eyes and the narrow face surrounded by limp blond hair.
He wasn’t fooled for a moment by the man’s near delicate build. He possessed enough power to make Styx’s skin prickle.
“Desmond, I presume,” he stated with a deliberate arrogance.
The mocking smile never wavered. “You have that honor.”
“Honor is not the word I would use.”
“No? Well, perhaps that is because you know nothing of honor.”
Styx didn’t hesitate as he reached out to grasp the vampire by his neck and dangled him off his feet.
There was a rustle of agitation as the gathered vampires prepared for battle, but Styx calmly ignored them. He would not tolerate disrespect. Not from one of his brothers.
“You tread on dangerous ground,” he said in a lethal tone.
“And you are more stupid than I suspected if you think my clan won’t kill you where you stand,” Desmond warned. “Release me.”
“Never question my honor.”
With a disdainful flick of his hand, Styx dropped the treacherous vampire, pleased when he awkwardly stumbled before managing to catch his balance and straighten.
Petty, but what the hell.
Pausing to smooth his hands over his jade silk shirt, Desmond at last managed to regain his smile.
“You misunderstand, my lord. I’m not complaining at your lack of morals. I’ve always thought that chivalry was long overrated. What place does honor or loyalty or tradition have among bloodthirsty demons? We are above such weak human notions.”
Styx wasn’t shocked by the man’s confession. It was a sentiment shared by many vampires.
“Obviously you believe you are above vampire laws as well,” he said with frigid disdain.
“Actually, you broke the laws first when you took in two of my clansmen.”
“They petitioned for protection. It is within my rights to offer them sanctuary.”
The man gave a lift of his brows. “Your rights?”
“I am the Anasso.”
The green eyes darkened as the vampire’s power swirled through the air. “So you claim.”
“Claim?” Styx clenched his hands at his sides. It was that or wrapping his fingers around the throat of this puffed-up idiot. “There is no doubt that I am the leader of the vampires.”
“And yet, how did you take such an illustrious position?” The man pretended to consider for a long moment before giving a snap of his fingers. “Ah yes, now I recall. You murdered the previous Anasso. Quite enterprising of you, I must say.”
Styx stiffened at the accusation. In truth, it had been Viper who had landed the killing blow upon the previous Anasso, but Styx had never denied his own culpability. He took full blame for the death of the vampire he had admired and protected for centuries.
A vampire who had gone mad from his own twisted addictions.
“Are you here to have the return of your clansmen or to debate my rights of leadership?”
The vampire smiled. “ The truth?”
“If you can speak it.”
“I am here to take your so-called rights away from you.”
Styx frowned. Damn. He had come here believing that this vampire was merely flexing his muscles in an attempt to retrieve his clansmen. Now he realized that it was a far more dangerous situation.
Dangerous and potentially lethal, he acknowledged as he covertly glanced toward the circling vampires, who continued to point their weapons directly at his heart.
“Is this some sort of jest?” he growled.
With an aggravating smirk, Desmond glanced toward the towering vampire at his side. “Jacob, am I jesting?”
The large vampire with lank black hair and dull brown eyes gave a slow shake of his head. Styx didn’t have to look closely to realize that this was a vampire who had been broken of all will.
At one time it had been accepted that the stronger vampires would brutalize and enslave the weak. A chief would rule by terror, and those beneath him obeyed or paid a ghastly price.
Over the past centuries Styx had slowly, and at times painfully, tried to change such practices.
Unfortunately, it appeared that Desmond held on to the old ways, and his entire clan suffered for his arrogance.
“No, my lord,” the servant intoned.
“There, you see?” Desmond taunted. “No jesting.”
Styx regarded the vampire with a cold disdain. He could think of nothing he would enjoy more than ripping out the throat of the filthy braggart. Unfortunately, the half dozen crossbows currently pointed at him severely limited his options.
“What is your plan?” he demanded. “That you kill me and then step into my shoes?”
“Something like that. It is what you did, after all. I always learn from a master.”
“You truly believe that the vampires will follow you simply because you claim yourself the Anasso?”
“Why not?” Desmond pretended to study his mani cured nails. “They follow you, don’t they?”
Styx gave a short, humorless laugh. “When it suits them to do so.”
“Nonsense, my lord. You are far too modest. Your reputation has spread far and wide. All vampires know-that to cross your will is to dig their own grave. Indeed, your name is used to make foundlings shiver in their shoes.” He lifted his gaze to reveal a hectic glitter in the green eyes. A glitter that Styx was beginning to suspect was due more to sheer madness than simple ambition. “Which means that the vampire who manages to slay you will prove to all that he is even more dangerous, even more brutal. The perfect leader.”
Okay, he truly had plummeted over the edge.
Styx took a moment to consider his options. There weren’t many. He could no doubt cloud the mind of a handful of the vampires, or stun them with his power, but not all at once. There were simply too many enemies to battle his way free. And not even he was fast enough to outrun a crossbow.
His only hope seemed to be convincing the rabid vampire he would never pull off such a daring scheme.
Perfect.
“You are pathetic,” he at last said with a sneer of his own.
“I am pathetic?” Fury rippled over the gaunt face even as Desmond struggled to appear indifferent to the insult. “Strange, I am not the one currently being held hostage, am I?”
Styx shrugged. “You can kill me if you wish, but the vampires will never follow you.”
> “Why not? One Anasso is as good as another to most of your brothers. What does the name matter as long as he upholds the laws for all?”
“If that is true what is to keep another chief from coming along and taking the position by the same treacherous means as you?”
“I am wise enough not to lock myself away in damp caves and play the aloof, mysterious monk.” He flicked a dismissive glance over Styx’s large form. “The humans have proven that you do not need to be a kind, or an intelligent, or even a competent ruler. How many buffoons and idiots have sat on a throne? You only have to win the goodwill of your people and they will follow.”
Styx gave a sharp laugh. By the gods, this vampire had allowed his ability to terrorize his small clan to go to his head.
“You really think you can play human politics among demons?”
“Well, there will be a few tweaks here and there.” A cruel smile touched the thin lips. “And, of course, I shall ensure I have enough enforcers to convince those who might have issues with my leadership style.”
He thought a handful of bullies would ensure his position as Anasso?
“I was wrong. You are not pathetic; you are a fool.” Styx deliberately leaned downward, emphasizing his own size as he spoke directly into the man’s ear. “You would be dead within a month. If not from a clan loyal to me, then by my Ravens. They would never rest until each and every one of you is dead.”
Desmond took a hasty step backward before he could halt the revealing movement. His face tightened with annoyance as his hands smoothed over his shirt in an effort to pretend the embarrassing incident had never occurred.
“Yes, I must admit the Ravens have troubled me. They are a formidable enemy,” he conceded in a sharp tone. “Not only are they well trained, and loyal beyond reason, but they would never be stupid enough to attack in a fury of revenge. Oh no, they are the sort to hide in the shadows and pick off my clan one by one.”
Styx smiled coldly. “They would hound you for all eternity.”
“As I said, a problem. Unless…”
Styx didn’t like the smug glint that smoldered in the green eyes. It warned that the surprises were not over for the night.
A pity.
He was way past his limited tolerance for surprises already.
Any more and he was bound to become extremely violent.
“Unless what?”
“Unless you were kind enough to proclaim me as your heir,” Desmond said, with a mocking smile. “In writing, of course, since you sadly will not be here to make the pronouncement yourself. The Ravens will then have no choice but to accept my position. Perhaps I will even make them my own personal bodyguards.”
Styx gave a slow shake of his head. This went way beyond mere crazy. The vampire was downright delusional.
“You intend to kill me, but before I die you expect me to name you my heir?” he demanded, unable to halt his sharp laugh. “And people call me arrogant.”
The green eyes narrowed. “I did not claim you would be pleased to obey my command, but you will do it.”
Styx flashed his fangs in warning. He had sacrificed everything he held dear to save the vampires from a psychotic madman. He wasn’t about to hand them over to another.
Not even if it meant his own death.
“Never.”
“A vampire should know never to say never.” Desmond gave a snap of his fingers. “Jacob, fetch paper and a pen.”
“At once, my lord.” The large vampire gave an awkward bow before lumbering up the stairs and disappearing into the house.
Styx took a step forward, smiling with cold amusement as Desmond stumbled back.
“You are wasting your time,” he hissed.
Desmond glared with annoyance before regaining his brittle smile. “I think not. After all, I may not possess your strength, but I happen to be very, very clever. I never openly battle an opponent unless I have absolute insurance that I will win.” His smile widened. “In this case I have the insurance of a pretty little blond who seems to have caught your fancy.”
Styx stiffened as a numbing shock raced through him.
“Darcy?” he breathed.
“Such a charming name.”
Panic threatened to rise before Styx firmly gained control of his senses.
No. It wasn’t possible. Styx wasn’t sure how Desmond managed to learn of Darcy, but there was no way he could get his filthy hands on her.
This was nothing more than a ploy to provoke him into doing something stupid.
Well, something even more stupid than charging into a blatant trap set by a vampire with a God complex and his band of idiotic merry men.
“Yes, and safely under the protection of the Phoenix,” Styx drawled. “Or did you intend to battle the goddess?”
“Certainly not.” The man possessed the nerve to smirk. Jackass. “Thankfully you made sure that such a horrible fate would not be necessary.”
“I…” Infuriated by the mere suggestion that he would somehow endanger Darcy, Styx came to a sudden halt. Abruptly he realized how the vampire had known of Darcy. And how he had known exactly the moment that he would be with Viper so that he could be easily lured into tracking the renegades to this house. “Your clansmen,” he rasped with a flare of self-disgust.
“Precisely,” the soon-to-be-dead vampire drawled. “By believing their pathetic story and putting them in Dante’s home you gave them the perfect opportunity to discover your every weakness. And, of course, the perfect means of capturing your beloved Darcy. Even now they are collecting her so that she can join us during this momentous occasion.”
Styx slowly sank to his knees as a cold lethal fury raced through him.
Later he would have the opportunity to punish him self for having been so easily fooled by his enemies. There would no doubt be years of brooding and self-recriminations and cold-blooded plans to ensure he never repeated such a mistake. That was, after all, what he did best.
For now, however, he was utterly consumed by a rage that had no bounds.
Desmond’s one miscalculation in his elaborate scheme was in the fact that Styx was newly mated.
He was not the cold, calculating Anasso who would consider his situation with a detached logic. That Styx would easily realize that he was outgunned, outnum bered, and outmaneuvered. He would understand that the most sensible means of keeping Darcy safe would be to concede to the vampire’s demands.
This Styx was a rabid animal who only knew that his mate was in danger and that he would kill anything and everything that stood in his path.
Feeling the power beginning to thunder through his body, Styx glanced up as Jacob returned from the house with the pen and paper clutched in his meaty hands.
Unaware he was mere moments from death, Desmond smiled as he glanced down at the kneeling Styx.
“Well, Styx, it appears that your ruling days are about to come to an end. Do you have any last words?”
The wind began to whip and the ground shake as Styx slowly rose to his feet.
“Just one.” His hand lifted toward the growingly puzzled face of his opponent. “Die.”
Chapter Twenty
A peaceful hush bathed the elegant mansion. Well, the peace bathed all but Darcy’s luxurious rooms.
Realizing that she would be getting no more sleep until Styx had safely returned, Darcy had foolishly allowed herself to be lured into a game of checkers with Levet.
Both of them were seated cross-legged on the bed as Darcy studied the board with a sudden frown. She was no master player, and her attention had been more finely tuned on listening for the return of Styx than on the pieces on the board. Still, she was not so poor a player, or so deeply distracted, that she couldn’t tell when she was being well and truly swindled.
Lifting her head, she flashed her tiny companion a frown. “You cheated.”
“Moi?” Levet pressed a gnarled hand to his chest in mock outrage. “Do not be absurd. Why would I cheat when I am so obviously the superior
player?”
“Superior? Ha.” Darcy pointed toward the board. “I was kicking your ass.”
Levet gave a small sniff. “I am wounded, cherie. Mortally wounded.”
“What you are is a low-down cheat,” Darcy corrected. “Each time I glance toward the window you move the pieces on the board.”
“Pooh. I have never heard such slander. My honor is above reproach.”
“Then how did you get kinged when you haven’t even made it across the board?”
Levet gave a flap of his wings that sent the pieces flying off the board and across the bed in a shower of plastic color.
“Checkers, fah. Such a stupid game,” he complained as he hopped off the bed and paced the carpet. “What we need is a real challenge.”
Absently collecting the checkers and returning them to their box, Darcy shot her companion a suspicious glance.
She didn’t know much about gargoyles, but she sus pected that Levet’s idea of a challenge and her own might be worlds apart.
“What kind of challenge?”
“Something that takes real skill. Something that demands both a keen intelligence and the talent of a well-honed athlete.” Pace, pace, pace. Back and forth the tiny gargoyle crossed the carpet until at last coming to a halt with a snap of his fingers. A rather neat trick with fingers as thick and gnarly as his. “Aha, I have it.”
Setting aside the checkers, Darcy scooted to the edge of the bed. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“Bowling.”
Darcy blinked and then gave a startled laugh. “Good grief. You’ve got to be kidding.”
“What?” Levet puffed out his chest. “Bowling is an ancient and noble sport. The sport of kings, in fact.”
“I thought that was chess.”
Levet offered a superior lift of his brows. “And just how many kings have you known?”
Kings, yeah right.
There were all sorts of royalty hanging out in Goth bars and cheap boardinghouses.
“Let me think. Ah…” Darcy pretended to consider. “That would be none.”
Levet gave a smirky flap of his wings. “I, on the other hand, have known hundreds of kings. Some of them quite intimately.”
Darcy held up a hand. “Okay, we’re going into the realm of way too much information.”
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