Three to Get Ready

by Ivy, Alexandra

  “Unfortunately.”

  “What happened to him after he was captured?”

  That pressure in the center of his chest became more pronounced. As if a very large troll was sitting on him. The damned thing weighed a ton.

  “As far as I know he’s still imprisoned.”

  Viper grimaced, then, as if struck by a sudden thought, he took a step forward.

  “You’re not thinking about letting him out, are you?”

  Styx shrugged. “What choice do I have?”

  “Let me think.” Viper mockingly tapped a finger to his chin. “You could release the powerful clan chief who has had several centuries to consider the most creative ways to kill us for holding him prisoner. Or leave him safely locked away.” More tapping on his chin. “Hmm. Tough decision.”

  Viper had a point. If Tarak was released he most certainly would track them down to seek his revenge. That was the least of Styx’s concerns. He was far more worried about the possibility that the vampire would come out of his prison completely insane. Tarak could rampage halfway across the world, slaughtering the innocent, before they managed to stop him.

  Styx had spent the previous night contemplating the various risks before he’d made his decision. He wasn’t a vampire who liked to rush into things. Calm. Logical. Persistent. Those were the traits that he used as a leader.

  “I have to do what’s right,” he said.

  Viper snorted. “What’s right is keeping my head attached to my neck.”

  “I didn’t ask you here to debate the issue. I just wanted to let you know I would be gone.”

  Viper paused. Was he considering the odds of convincing Styx to forget that Tarak was locked in some mystical prison? Probably. But the younger vampire wasn’t stupid. He knew that once Styx made up his mind there was no changing it.

  Why beat his head against a brick wall?

  “What exactly are you going to do in Vegas?” he instead asked.

  Styx held up the scroll. “I’m going to give this to Chiron.”

  “Chiron,” Viper repeated. “I don’t recognize the name.”

  Styx had lost track of the younger vampire after he’d been banished, although he’d heard rumors that Chiron had snuck back into his forbidden territory and started a casino. It’d taken a few hours of research, and cashing in several favors to various demons, to learn that Chiron had settled in Vegas nearly fifty years ago.

  “He owns Dreamscape Resorts.”

  Viper sent him a shocked glance. “Dreamscape? The chain of casinos and spas that are spread around the world?”

  “I suppose.” Styx didn’t have any interest in casinos or spas. Viper on the other hand, owned several nightclubs, and despite the fact that his clubs catered to demons rather than humans, he was constantly scoping out the competition. “As far as I can tell, he’s been the public face of the clan. Most of the Rebels disappeared into the shadows over the past centuries.”

  “Why take the gargoyle if you’re just handing over the scroll?” Viper demanded. “It can’t be because you enjoy his company.”

  Styx shuddered. He’d rather spend the next forty-eight hours being flogged by a drunken troll than be forced to travel with Levet.

  He glanced toward the scroll in his hands. “This is the original spell that hides the key to the prison. It was given to the previous Anasso to prove the deed was done.”

  “There’s a key?” Viper looked cast a wary glance toward the scroll. As if it was a ticking time bomb about to explode. Styx didn’t blame him. Witches and magic and hidden prisoners was enough to put any vampire on edge. Which was why he was anxious to hand the thing over to Chiron. Let him deal with it. “Where is it?” Viper demanded.

  “I don’t know for sure. I’m hoping Levet will be able to use his ability to trace the magic. It might lead the Rebels to where the key is hidden.”

  Viper slowly smiled. “More likely they’ll kill the gargoyle before they can ever find the key. No sane demon could endure that aggravating scourge for more than a few hours. At the same time, you’ll be celebrated as a hero for making amends for the previous king.” Viper offered Styx a mocking bow. “Well played.”

  Styx ignored his friend’s hopeful prediction. His luck wasn’t good enough for Chiron to dispose of Levet and give up any attempt to free his master. It was more likely the vampire would free Tarak, who would promptly come to Chicago along with the gargoyle to kill him.

  “I should be back before the weekend,” he said. He planned to take his jet, that was waiting at a private airfield, to Vegas tonight and fly home before morning, but if he was delayed for some reason he didn’t want Viper rushing to his rescue with the Ravens. He was trying to prevent a war, not start one. Then again, he didn’t want to disappear into the Mojave Desert and never be seen again. “If not, come looking for me.”

  “Got it.” Viper stiffened, his nose flaring as the scent of granite filtered through the air. “Call if you need anything. Now I’m bailing before—”

  His words were cut off as the door to the study was thrown open and Levet stepped inside.

  “I have arrived,” the tiny demon announced in a booming voice.

  Levet wasn’t what most people expected of a gargoyle.

  He had the usual grotesque features, the thick gray skin, reptilian eyes, horns, and cloven hoofs. He even had a long tail he polished on a regular basis. But he was barely three foot tall and he possessed a pair of delicate fairy wings that shimmered in vibrant reds and blue with veins of gold. Even worse, his magic was as combustible as a harpy’s temper, and he had more courage than sense.

  It was little wonder he had been voted out of the Gargoyle Guild.

  “Too late,” Viper muttered.

  The stunted gargoyle blew a raspberry toward Viper before he turned his attention to Styx.

  “This summons had better be important,” he said with a sniff, as if Styx couldn’t crush him beneath his size sixteen boot. Levet had a bloated opinion of his own importance. “I was enjoying a lava bath with a lovely fire imp.”

  Styx forced himself to count to ten. “We’re going to Vegas.”

  “Vegas?” Levet’s wings twitched excitement before he abruptly scowled. “This is not a trick, is it? The last time you promised me we were going on a vacation together you locked me in the dungeon.”

  Styx bared his fangs. “You tried to sell my sword on eBay.”

  Levet stuck out his bottom lip. “I do not know why your panties are in a kink. It is not like you ever use the rusty thing.”

  The floor trembled and ice formed in the air as Styx reached over his shoulder to grasp the handle of his massive weapon that was strapped to his back. With one smooth motion, he had the tip of the blade pressed against Levet’s short snout.

  “Lucky you,” he growled. “I’m taking it to Vegas.”

  Levet’s wings drooped. “I do not feel very lucky.”

  Coming August 20, 2019

  Beware the Darkness

  Guardian of Eternity – Book 14

  by Alexandra Ivy

  Prologue

  Asia 1500s

  The massive castle sprawled along the remote cliffs of the Himalayan Range, offering a tangible symbol of the power that had been acquired by the King of Vampires. The thick stones and soaring turrets provided an impregnable fortress, as if the dozens of powerful vampires weren’t enough to frighten away any potential intruder. Plus, there were layers of fey magic that hid it from the eyes of humans.

  The Anasso, however, hadn’t been satisfied. He’d insisted on digging a honeycomb of tunnels beneath the castle that led into the mountain, providing easy escape if they were ever attacked.

  At the time, Tarak had applauded his master’s paranoia. Since gathering the vampires beneath his rule, the Anasso had been forced to defend himself against countless assassins. After all, not every vampire was happy to be forced out of the dark ages and into a unified species that worked together. For centuries, the clans had warred for domi
nance; it wasn’t easy to become allies.

  Plus, the thought of a vampire nation was enough to scare the shit out of every other demon. Many of them were anxious to get rid of the Anasso in the hopes that the vampires would fracture and retreat to their barbaric habit of killing each other. Trolls, orcs, goblins, and several fey creatures had all tried to eliminate the Anasso.

  It would make anyone jumpy.

  Now, however, Tarak wished he’d paid more attention to his instincts, which had wondered if the Anasso’s retreat from his enemies was excessive. Or at least he should have listened to the warnings offered by Chiron.

  Hadn’t the young male proven to be a devoted servant? His loyalty had been unwavering since Tarak had found him hidden in a cave.

  Of course, his own loyalty had been equally unwavering.

  Tarak had brought his clan to the Anasso because he fiercely believed in what the male was trying to accomplish. How could they survive in the ever-changing world if they didn’t organize into a cohesive force? Squabbling over petty insults or constant power grabs only weakened them.

  He didn’t want to accept that the male he’d willingly chosen as his master was addicted to feeding on prey with opium and alcohol in their system. Every vampire knew that tainted blood would eventually drive them mad, right? The Anasso would never risk everything by indulging in such a dangerous habit.

  So he’d ignored the pleas from Chiron. And even his own unease when his master had started to reveal hints of instability. Then Chiron had challenged Tarak to enter the deepest tunnels and see the truth for himself. He’d refused. He wasn’t going to betray the trust the Anasso had placed in him.

  But tonight had changed everything.

  During the evening feast, he’d witnessed the master slipping out a side door, then returning with a hectic glitter in his eyes and an unsteadiness in his steps that had made Tarak’s gut twist with dread.

  Waiting for his clansmen to seek out their beds as dawn crested the horizon, Tarak silently moved through the dining hall. There’d been a tense few seconds when a lovely imp had suddenly appeared from the shadows. She’d been most insistent that he share the day in her bed. Not an unusual occurrence. Although Tarak didn’t possess the outrageous vanity of most vampires, he knew females found his strong barbarian features, with his smoldering, faintly slanted dark eyes and long ebony hair, a source of fascination. Now, however, he found the female’s attention more a source of annoyance than pleasure.

  Firmly sending her on her way, Tarak waited until he was alone before he stepped through the hidden door that had been used by the Anasso.

  Now his heavy boots crunched on the packed dirt as he followed the passage that inclined at a sharp angle. He’d assumed that he’d been in most of the tunnels that ran like a maze beneath the castle, but he quickly realized he was headed in an opposite direction from the public catacombs. This passage was leading him toward the nearby village, not the mountain.

  His sense of dread only intensified. A part of him wanted to turn around. He could seek his bed like his brothers and continue to exist in blissful ignorance. Why not? They were on the cusp of peace for the first time in history.

  His feet, however refused to listen to the urging of his heart. Crunch, crunch, crunch. They continued forward, even when the pungent stench of unwashed humans and demons polluted the air. Tarak gagged. The odor was laced with putrid illness that seemed to seep into his very skin.

  How was it possible that the smell hadn’t permeated the entire lair? It would surely take magic to contain the stench to this area.

  The question was driven from his mind as he rounded a corner. Skidding to a halt, he instinctively bared his fangs in revulsion. On one side, the stone wall had a gaping opening that revealed the pit below.

  Tarak gagged again, but he forced himself to move toward the edge of the floor and peer down. He could easily see through the gloom, making out the groups of captives, a dozen humans who were huddled in a mass of misery in one corner. In another corner, there was an iron cage filled with naked fairies. And on the far side of the cramped chamber there were four pureblooded Weres chained to the wall with silver shackles.

  The sight hit Tarak like a punch to the gut. His faithful clansman, Chiron, had been right. The Anasso was addicted to tainted blood.

  It was only a matter of time before he went completely insane.

  He started forward, only to halt. There was nothing he could to help the pathetic prisoners until after he’d confronted his master. Pivoting on his heel, Tarak hurried back up the passageway. The sooner he could expose the Anasso, the sooner they could choose a new leader and continue with their plans for the future.

  Lost in his grim thoughts, Tarak was impervious to the chill that crawled through the air. The lair was filled with vampires. There were always chills. Sometimes the walls would be coated with ice. No doubt that explained why so many vampires preferred to have their own lairs.

  It wasn’t until he felt the tremors beneath his feet that he recognized who’d entered the passage. He stopped, his spine stiffening as he watched a shadowed form stroll toward him.

  The Anasso.

  The king was a large male with bluntly carved features and piercing eyes. He also had legendary vampire powers that had allowed him to claim the throne. Tarak had never encountered another demon who could equal him in raw dominance. Well, maybe Styx. The younger male continued to acquire power with every passing year. But Styx was as devoted to the Anasso as Tarak.

  The poor bastard was going to be devastated when he learned the nasty secret their master had been hiding.

  The Anasso halted, blocking the passage with his large body. An intentional attempt at intimidation?

  “Tarak.” The male’s voice echoed down the tunnel. “It’s late. You should be in your quarters.”

  Tarak felt a treacherous urge to turn and walk away. Just leave the lair and start over.

  It would be the easiest solution.

  And the most cowardly, a voice warned in the back of his mind.

  The vampires who were depending on the Anasso to lead them into a new future deserved to know the truth. No matter how much it might hurt.

  “I had a mission that could not wait,” he admitted.

  “A mission? That sounds ominous.” The older male’s tone was mocking, but Tarak didn’t miss the fact his words were slurred.

  “Yes,” he agreed.

  The Anasso’s brows snapped together as he easily sensed Tarak’s tension. “This is a private passage.”

  Tarak met the male’s penetrating gaze without flinching. “Why would you need a private passage?”

  The Anasso shrugged. “There are occasions a clan chief prefers to speak with me without revealing his presence. I need to assure him that the negotiations will remain confidential.”

  The smooth explanation made sense. There had been many chiefs who’d accepted the rule of the Anasso but were reluctant to bend the knee in public. The one thing all vampires had in common was their arrogance.

  None of them wanted to appear weak.

  But Tarak had already seen the real reason for the tunnel. And he was done pretending this male could continue his reign as king.

  “No more lies,” he said a harsh voice. “We both know what is at the bottom of this tunnel.”

  There was a tremor beneath Tarak’s feet. “Be careful, my friend. We have been together a very long time.”

  Tarak clenched his hands as pain lanced through his heart. “We have. Which makes this all the more difficult.”

  “Why?” The Anasso stepped toward Tarak, his power crawling over him with a tangible force. “Nothing has changed.”

  Was he jesting? If so, it wasn’t amusing.

  “You have made choices that have put us all in danger,” Tarak growled.

  The Anasso made a sound of impatience. “Trust me, there is no danger. I can quit whenever I choose.”

  “You sound like a human who is attempting to excuse his o
verindulgences.”

  There was an edgy silence as the temperature in the tunnel dropped to a level just above glacial.

  “I never thought of you as a prude, Tarak.”

  “It is not prudish to know you are rotting your mind and putting at risk everything we have struggled to achieve.”

  “It is a harmless means of easing the burdens I must carry.”

  Tarak hissed, angered by the older vampire’s utter lack of remorse.

  “It is a weakness.” Tarak flicked a gaze over the Anasso’s rumpled robe that was still stained from the earlier feast. Even his long hair was tousled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it. Not at all the flawless warrior who’d conquered thousands of vampires. A deep sadness settled in the center of his heart. “And you were the one to claim that any vulnerability must be destroyed.”

  “Is that what you intend to do? Destroy me?”

  Was it? Tarak grimaced. He supposed that was the inevitable conclusion to this confrontation.

  “I intend to lay your sins in front of the clan.”

  The Anasso stepped forward. “No.”

  “It is not your decision,” Tarak informed his master, his chin tilting to a defiant angle.

  The Anasso curled back his lips to reveal his massive fangs. “I cannot allow you to ruin all I have worked to achieve.”

  Tarak frowned. He suddenly realized just how blind he had been. “Do you not mean all we have worked to achieve?”

  “Of course.” The male waved away Tarak’s words with a sharp jerk of his hand. “What do you desire from me?”

  “I told you,” Tarak snapped. “I intend to reveal your secrets to the clan.”

  “I asked what you desire.” The Anasso stepped close enough that his power washed over Tarak like a tidal wave. “A position within the clan? Perhaps your own throne? I could name you as my prince.” His voice lowered to a hypnotic purr. “Or perhaps you prefer riches. I have endless wealth. Just name your price.”