“Bring him down, along with the remains of the Shelakig.” I motioned to the door and headed downstairs.
As I passed by the Varcont, he laughed. “We have her, you know. We have your pretty, pretty little werepuma, and can you imagine the things our Master might do to her? She is a delightful play toy.”
I froze, then slowly turned around to face him. Every instinct in me screamed to throttle him. “You’re going to tell us all about where you took her. You can make this easy, or you can make this rough. Your choice.”
“I’d rather tell you how loud she screamed when we caught hold of her.” He grinned, insolent and sneering, and leaned forward as much as his chains would allow. “You may have me, but I can withstand your tortures much easier than she can withstand our pleasures.”
That did it. I leaped forward, but Roman—who was standing right behind me—caught hold of me and yanked me back.
“Stop.”
“Let me at him. Please. Let me question him.” I knew exactly what I’d do to him, and it wasn’t pretty and it wouldn’t be something I’d ever tell my sisters. My predator was near the edge and if I let her out, the Varcont wouldn’t stand a chance against me. Not at my full rage. The energy seethed around me in a haze of red and I wanted to bathe in his blood, to rip him apart a little piece at a time until he gave up every single piece of information we needed.
“No, Menolly.” Roman glanced around, then motioned to Vanzir. “I will question him. Vanzir, you will come with me.”
Smoky cleared his throat. “I will go, too. We will find out everything we need to know.”
“Go where?” Camille stood on the edge of the staircase. She gave a quick look at the Varcont and backed away to the side. Delilah joined her. By now the other vamps had brought in the body of the Shelakig, in pieces.
“We’re going to have a little talk with the Varcont here,” Roman said. “And the three of you? Are not invited. I will not have you taking part in this . . . any of you. Smoky, you and Vanzir can help me. You are strong enough to withstand what we must do.” His voice was steel-cold, and his eyes were pale as frost.
I recognized the warning signals. Roman was about to go full throttle on the Greater vampire and he was going to pull out all the stops. I wanted to be there, but one look at his face told me he wouldn’t allow it—and he would pull rank as my sire if I insisted.
“But . . . Nerissa . . .”
“Nerissa is your love. He’ll use that to force you into a situation that—my love—you truly do not wish to be in. I will not have you becoming a monster just to defeat one. As much as Smoky and Vanzir and I care about Nerissa, we don’t love her the way you do. And that works to our benefit.” And with that, they hustled him down the staircase, Roman’s guards following as they carried pieces of the broken scorpion demon with them.
“Typical man. I’m strong enough to do this. How dare they push me out of the loop?”
“He’s right,” Delilah said, as the door slammed behind them. “You’re too close to the situation and the demon would use that to hurt you even more. It’s not because you’re a woman, it’s because you are vulnerable because of your connection to her. So deal with it and let them take care of the dirty work.”
I wanted to protest, but there was nothing I could say. I mutely jumped up to sit on the counter, staring at the door to the basement.
Derrick leaped over the counter and pulled two drinks for Delilah and Camille—simple shots of a spiced blackberry brandy. He handed me a bottle of our best blood.
“You all need a little fortification, I think.” He leaned on the counter, flipping a peanut into his mouth.
Camille pulled her glass to her. “Delilah’s right. It’s not because you’re a woman, you know. That’s not why Roman won’t let you down there. The three of them . . . they’ve dealt in torture before. Smoky’s got the physical strength to handle the demon and the emotional makeup. So does Vanzir. And Roman . . . he’s probably tortured more people in his life than we can count.” She said it simply, but her words still chilled me to the core.
Roman and torture . . . the two went hand in hand, really. He had been a warlord. He was son of the vampire queen. While he had his good side, and while I did not doubt he was a fair man, I couldn’t ignore the fact that he had been a scourge to his enemies. And the word enemy was fraught with meanings. One man’s enemy is another man’s savior, as the old Y’Elestrial saying went.
Camille frowned. “Bring me a punch bowl, Derrick, and the clearest spring water you have.”
He shrugged, but acquiesced. Camille settled at a nearby table, motioning for him to put the bowl in front of her and to fill it with water. As he did so, she shook her head as Morio frowned and started to say something.
“I need you to help me, damn it. So just do it.”
Morio shrugged. “All right, but I think it’s a mistake.”
“Then if it is, we’ll know soon enough.”
Trillian repressed a grin and sidled over to where Delilah and I were standing. “And that’s how our marriage works, my dear sisters-in-law. In case you ever wondered who runs things, it’s your sister. Camille’s word is our command.”
I tried to smile but was too deep in my own dark thoughts to manage it. “What’s she doing?”
“I believe she’s going to attempt to scry.”
Delilah let out a little gasp. “I hope to hell she’s not trying to see into the safe room. I just have a very bad feeling about what’s going down in there—not for our guys, but for the other side. It’s not going to be pretty at all.”
“I’m not, so don’t sweat that.” Camille glanced up at us. “I’m doing my best to pick up whatever I can about Nerissa. There’s no way my magic could reach into the safe room anyway—it was built to keep the strongest magic at bay. I’m not going to waste time trying to eavesdrop on them. Like you said, I really don’t think I want to know what’s going on down there right now, you know?”
Delilah nodded. I wished I could agree with them, but I desperately wanted to be there, to make the Varcont eat his words.
Another moment and Camille dropped into a deep trance as she stared into the water. Morio was standing behind her, his hands on her shoulders, feeding her extra energy. You could practically see it wrap around the pair, weaving like a silver trail of mist, or silver plumes from the tail of a peacock as it zipped this way and that around them.
Camille closed her eyes, her voice lilting over a simple chant.
Moon Mother, grant me the sight.
We need your help this night.
Please hear my call, hear my plea,
And bring the gift of vision to me.
There was a brilliant flash in the room as the silver mist plunged into the bowl and spread through the water. Camille opened her eyes and leaned forward, gazing at the surface of the now-churning liquid. She let out a long breath on it, and the water immediately calmed into a placid pool, sparkling with silver light.
A moment later, she let out a little cry. “I see her. I can see Nerissa. She’s . . . she’s chained in a stark room. Red rock, red brick? The walls are red and they’re made of some sort of stone. She’s clothed, though she looks pretty banged up. And she’s just sitting there, staring—there’s a window in the room, with bars on it. Not glass, but an open window. She’s staring up at the window. I can’t see much else, but it looks like there’s a plate of some sort on the ground next to her and what looks like the remains of a meal. She . . . she’s crying.”
I was at her side in a flash, trying desperately to see what Camille was seeing, but all that I saw in the bowl was the water with a mist across the surface of it. “Can you speak to her?”
“I don’t know . . . let me try. Nerissa . . . Nerissa, can you hear me? This is Camille . . .”
She waited for a moment, then glanced back at me. “I think she migh
t have heard me in the back of her mind. She jerked around and looked at the ceiling.”
“Tell her we’re going to come save her. Tell her I love her!” I was desperate to make contact, to feel like somehow she would know that I was on the way.
“Nerissa, Menolly is here. She loves you. We’re doing everything we can to save you. Hang on. Just hang on.” Camille paused another moment, then let out a sigh. “The scene faded. I think she may have heard me, but I can’t be certain.”
I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream for Camille to get her back, but I knew magic didn’t work that way—it wasn’t a telephone. Magic was far from exact, and with Camille, for it to work without backfiring when it wasn’t death magic was a minor miracle in itself.
“Thank you,” I whispered, unable to say anything more.
At that point, the door to the basement opened and the men reentered the room. I glanced at their faces. They looked grim, but there was a satisfied smirk on Vanzir’s face that gave me hope.
“What happened?”
“We know where she is. We just have to figure out how to get there.” Smoky flashed an impassive look my way. “She’s being held in a small outpost in the Sub-Realms. And we ascertained that as of yet, she hasn’t been hurt in any lasting way. Shadow Wing’s busy with his anti-knights and while he sent a demand for ransom to you via the Varcont, he hasn’t had time to inspect Nerissa himself.”
“How do we get there? Where’s the outpost?” I jumped up, running over to Roman, who opened his arms to welcome me in.
“We have to find someone who can create a Demon Gate, then go through to the Subterranean Realms to find her. We have the coordinates needed to do so.” Vanzir paused, then added, “The Varcont won’t be causing any more problems.”
I shuddered slightly. I could smell the blood on Roman’s lips, and his eyes were bright, like they always were after he fed. He felt twitchy to me, and I realized that feeding on a Greater vampire had to have had an effect on him. I had drunk demon’s blood several times, and it always charged me up in a way that was hard to describe. Think of it as putting high-octane fuel in a car that was used to regular.
“That leaves us the question of how we find someone who can create a Demon Gate for us, someone we can trust?” I glanced around at Delilah and Camille.
“That’s simple enough,” Delilah said. “Wilbur can do it.”
And just like that, I realized that we were actually going to head deep into the Sub-Realms to rescue my wife.
Chapter 16
Wilbur’s house was close to ours. By the time we arrived, it was two in the morning and Martin opened the door. Wilbur had been in the Special Forces, stationed down in South America where he first learned necromancy. Now he was a one-legged mountain man stuck in the city, and I had the feeling he was lonelier than hell. Hanging with a ghoul—even when it had been your brother—didn’t provide much interaction. And Wilbur’s social skills were dreadfully lacking.
Martin recognized us. He was kind of like a dog who had been trained that certain people were safe not to bark at, or attack. He let us in, then shuffled toward a room off the living room. Camille crossed the doorway and turned to Roman. “Enter and be welcome.”
And just like that, Roman was able to enter the house. It occurred to me that it might be a good idea for people to have a talk with their friends about inviting strangers into the house. In general, it was a dangerous idea, but even more so if the stranger turned out to be a vampire.
Wilbur used to sleep upstairs but now, probably because of his leg, he seemed to find it easier to use the downstairs bedroom. A few minutes later, one very grumpy mountain man appeared. Wilbur resembled the boys of ZZ Top, only a bit bigger and burlier, and he didn’t dress nearly as nice. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants and a baggy top and his hair was all shades of messy, including the massive beard.
He rubbed his eyes, staring at us blurrily. “What the hell do you want at this time of night?”
“We need you to create a Demon Gate that will allow us to travel to the Subterranean Realms so I can rescue Nerissa.” The words came streaming out of me as though I had just lost my supper and vomited all over the floor.
Wilbur blinked and scratched his balls. He was not one for niceties or manners. “I think you’d better sit down and start making some sense.” As he headed back into the living room, we followed. I wanted him to just get on with it, but I also understood just how delicate a spell it was, and how much energy was required. One did not just gate open a doorway to hell, so to speak. At least, not unless one had a good reason, craziness notwithstanding.
We settled in the living room. Wilbur cleared his throat and blinked, squinting at Roman. “Do we know each other?”
“I don’t believe so, and I’d prefer to keep it that way,” Roman said, grinning at Wilbur. “But this is not the likely outcome; therefore, allow me to—”
“Just give me your fucking name, dude, and stop prancing like a pony.” Yeah, that was our Wilbur. Blunt as always and more than a little bit rude.
“Roman, Lord of the Vampire Nation.”
That seemed to make an impact. Wilbur subtly shifted, his eyes widening. “I think I need some coffee.” He turned to Camille. “Sweet cheeks, would you and your gorgeous bouncing boobs make me some?” His eyes were glued to her cleavage. Again, Wilbur to the core.
She just gave him a disgusted look, then laughed and pushed herself to her feet. “Trust me, you don’t want to mess with my boobs. They’re dangerous in the wrong hands.” And with that cryptic remark, she vanished into the kitchen.
I let out a grunt. “Dude, this is serious. We need you to be serious with us.”
Wilbur gave me a long look. He was usually a lecher, and he could be a real son-of-a-bitch misogynist, but the fact was, he had always come through for us in the past. He had lost his leg because of his friendship with us, as well.
“What’s going on, Dead Girl?” That was as close to an endearment as he ever got with me.
“Demons have kidnapped Nerissa and they’re holding her hostage. We absolutely cannot pay the ransom they’re asking. It isn’t a matter of money, but of . . . saving the world, basically. So we need to sneak into the Sub-Realms, track her down, and rescue her.” I held his gaze, not working my glamour. If he did this, I wanted him doing so willingly because creating a Demon Gate could backfire on him, and in the worst scenario, it could put his life in jeopardy.
“And to get into the Sub-Realms, you have to have a Demon Gate. I take it you can’t go through the Ionyc Seas?” Wilbur knew a great deal about our abilities. He never had ratted us out, not once.
“Right, because the only one who’s been in the Sub-Realms is Vanzir, and he can’t travel through the Seas. He can go via the astral plane, but that’s a highly dangerous trek when you’re talking about leading a group into the demonic realms.” I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back. “Wilbur, I know you don’t have a stake in this . . .”
“But you need my help.” He stared at me so intently that for a moment, I feared he was going to ask something from me that I really didn’t want to give him. But after a moment, he shrugged. “What’s a little Demon Gate among friends? All right, I’m in. But you listen to what I say, do what I tell you, and don’t mess up. Got it?”
I nodded. “Got it.”
“How many people do you need to transport?”
Camille returned from the kitchen and handed a mug of coffee to Wilbur.
Roman straightened up. “Menolly will be taking a group of five vampires with her. I’d rather send more, but the smaller the party, the easier it will be to escape notice. By the laws of the Vampire Nation, I’m not allowed to go—only one crown may be away at war at any given time unless the war comes to us.”
Wilbur stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. “And who else?”
“Before I answer,
does anyone know about the day?” I licked my lips, a thought occurring to me. “Is there . . . does the sun shine in the Sub-Realms? Will I have to worry about it?”
Trillian shook his head. “I’ve lived there, remember? When Svartalfheim was located there. You will have no sun to worry about, nor moon to rise over the night. There is a constant glow of fire and smoke, but you will never find the source of it. It’s warm—too warm, and the air is bone dry. Water can be found, but much of it is stagnant and filled with bracken or algae. The vegetation that grows in the Subterranean Realms is twisted and windswept, and dry as dust. A constant wind blows across the land and it never stops. After a while, you begin to hear voices in it and if you try to listen, they can drive you mad. I will go with you. I know my way around to some degree.”
I gulped. It sounded so alien and strange, and so far away. “I don’t want everybody with me. Some of you have to stay here, to guard the portals and our family. Smoky, I think you would stand out far too much.”
“He would, he would positively shine, but I will go.” Shade moved to stand beside me.
Delilah started to stand, but I shook my head. “I will not take you to the Sub-Realms, Kitten. Not if I had to go there alone. I refuse—don’t ask and don’t argue.” She had lost so much of her naïveté over the years, but I would not strip away what remained, and I had the feeling that a visit to the Sub-Realms would wipe the slate clean and leave her without the joyous optimism that helped hold our family together.
Camille started to say something, but I shook my head again. “Neither will I take you. You’re slated to be Queen of Dusk and Shadow. I won’t jeopardize your life. Vanzir—will you come?”
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