GOE 08 - Bound By Darkness

by Alexandra Ivy

  So why, after sacrificing his relationship with Santiago, not to mention all the others who depended on him, would he leave?

  And why now?

  Aware of Nefri’s piercing gaze, Santiago managed a humorless smile.

  “I won’t tell you I told you so.”

  “So kind,” she said dryly.

  He folded his arms over his chest, barely noticing the hushed echo of footsteps as the remaining vampires spilled from the room and disappeared through the various passageways.

  If they were truly as wise as was claimed, then they would know better than to interfere in his private conversation.

  “Where is he?”

  Her hands smoothed over her dark robes. “No one knows for certain.”

  “Convenient.”

  “Our people are not prisoners, Santiago.” There was a bite to her smooth words. Had he touched a nerve? “They are free to come and go as they please. That does not make him guilty.”

  “When was he last seen?”

  “Nearly a month ago.”

  “A month?” he growled, his brows snapping together.

  “Yes.”

  “And no one thought it was weird that he just disappeared ?”

  “Our people are dedicated to their studies.” Her chin tilted. “It is not uncommon for us to seclude ourselves for weeks or even years.”

  Freaking perfect.

  If it was Gaius who had attacked Caine and Cassandra in Salvatore’s cellar and later kidnapped them from Caine’s home, then he had plenty of time to prepare a hidden lair where they would never find him.

  Their only hope now was figuring out what the hell had prompted the vampire, who had been legendary for his brilliant intelligence and complete lack of political ambitions, to commit treason.

  “Where’s his lair?”

  Nefri’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “Why?”

  He made a sound of impatience. He wasn’t used to explaining himself. And he most certainly wasn’t used to asking for permission.

  Even his clan chief, Viper, understood his need to be in charge.

  Which no doubt explained why he sent him out of Chicago to run one of his numerous nightclubs.

  “Because there might be some clue that can reveal his connection to the Dark Lord.”

  Of course that couldn’t be the end of the matter.

  He was beginning to suspect that the female would argue with him if he said the sun rose in the east.

  “We have no proof there is any connection.”

  “Hence the search.”

  “Do you have no respect for personal boundaries?”

  With a wicked smile he stepped forward, his head lowering until his lips were brushing softly against hers as he spoke.

  “None.”

  Electric currents of pleasure jolted through him, his body clenching with a primitive need to haul her against the nearest wall and sate the hunger that was becoming an insistent, all-consuming ache.

  She froze beneath his light touch, as if she was battling her own demons of need. Then with a deliberate motion, she pressed her hands against his chest and shoved him away.

  “If you will follow me I will take you to Gaius’s lair.”

  With precise movements she had stepped around him and was leading him past the marble columns to a wide marble staircase at the end of the hallway.

  Santiago scowled as he followed behind. Her spine might be stiff beneath that long, silky curtain of dark hair and her muscles clenched beneath the flowing robes, but he hadn’t missed the pure feminine desire that had flared through her eyes before she had pushed him away.

  Dios.

  Nefri, the freaking Queen of the Immortal Ones, was a complication he didn’t need.

  Especially not now.

  But when had lust ever struck when it was convenient?

  And that’s what this was, he assured himself as they moved swiftly down the staircase. Lust with a capital L.

  Anything else would be ... nuts.

  Reaching the bottom of the staircase, Nefri led him through the vaulted chamber with Greek gods painted on the ceiling and a fountain with a black marble statue of Poseidon in the center. He caught the musty scent of ancient books from a nearby library and the tantalizing perfume of orchids from the bathhouse, but Nefri moved toward a corridor that led away from the public rooms to what he assumed must be the living quarters.

  And still she continued forward, turning into hallways that grew progressively more barren and dangerously narrow.

  At last she came to a halt in front of a door, pausing with obvious reluctance before shoving it open and allowing him to step over the threshold.

  Not burdened with pesky scruples, Santiago moved to the center of the room, inspecting the narrow cot and plain wooden trunk shoved in one corner with a growing sense of puzzlement.

  Mierda.

  It was like a monk’s cell with its unadorned stone walls and stark lack of personal possessions. There wasn’t even a rug to warm the marble floor.

  “Bleak,” he muttered.

  “Gaius has never revealed a desire for material possessions,” Nefri pointed out, although he sensed she was as startled as he was by their stark surroundings.

  “No, he always preferred function over fashion,” Santiago agreed. The older vampire had often teased Santiago on his love for luxury, claiming that Santiago’s lair was more suitable for a pampered human than a dangerous predator. Grimly he shoved away the memory, reminding himself that the vampire he had once loved and respected had been nothing more than a figment of his imagination. “But he used to enjoy the basic comforts,” he continued through gritted teeth.

  “We all change over the years.”

  He snorted at soft words. “Evolve to higher beings, you mean?”

  Her lips tightened, but predictably she refused to rise to the bait.

  “For a rare few. Most of us merely do the best we can to survive.”

  “Very deep, dulcita,” he muttered, moving to pull open the closet door.

  “Some truths are simple.”

  “If you say ...” Flicking through the dozen robes hung in a neat row, Santiago’s words were forgotten as he caught sight of a small box set on the narrow shelf at the back.

  With a hand that wasn’t quite steady, he grabbed the ornately carved object, an emotion he refused to acknowledge clenching his heart.

  There was a wash of cool power and the scent of exotic woman as Nefri moved to stand at his side, her serene presence offering a surprising balm to the tumultuous feelings that threatened to consume him.

  “What is it?”

  He held up the wooden box that was well worn from fingers that had lovingly traced the intricate patterns over the years.

  “I carved this for Gaius just days before he left,” he said, his voice thick.

  He didn’t add that sculpting the box had his been his means to mourn the brutal loss of Gaius’s mate. He had poured his grief into each tiny engraving, attempting to capture the beauty she had added to his life.

  “He obviously has treasured it,” she said gently.

  Why?

  Why would Gaius have taken such care of this gift and at the same time dismiss the son who had created it for him?

  With a shake of his head, Santiago opened the box, his brows lifting at the sight of a heavy, old-fashioned key that was hidden inside.

  “Now I wonder what this might open.”

  “I haven’t the least notion.”

  Tossing the box onto the cot, Santiago began searching for a hidden door. If there was a key, there had to be a lock, didn’t there?

  Finding nothing in the closet, he searched the floor and then moved to the walls, his hands skimming over the smooth marble.

  At last forced to accept he was at a stalemate, he turned his attention to the beautiful woman standing near the door, watching him with obvious displeasure.

  So what was new?

  “A little help?”

  Her li
ps thinned. “I do not approve of invading another’s privacy.”

  “No?” He shifted to stand directly before her, his expression hard with warning. “Do you approve of the end of the world?”

  Their gazes clashed in a silent battle of wills before Nefri hissed in resignation.

  “I should never have allowed you through the Veil,” she muttered.

  “Too late.” He stroked a hand over her alabaster cheek, relishing the feel of her satin skin. “Now you will never get rid of me.”

  “Is that a threat?”

  She met his burning gaze with cool indifference, but she couldn’t hide her tiny shiver of pleasure at his touch.

  “A promise,” he said huskily.

  There it was again.

  That small, tantalizing shiver.

  Then she was brushing past him to wave a slender hand through the air.

  “There.”

  Fully aroused, it took Santiago a second to realize that she was pointing toward a door that had seemingly appeared like magic in the wall beside the cot.

  He studied her with a suspicious frown. She’d done the same voodoo magic in Salvatore’s wine cellar to reveal Cassandra’s presence there. At the time he’d been too busy making sure they didn’t get eaten by the King of Weres and his sidekick to question her unexpected powers.

  Not this time.

  “What did you do?”

  She shrugged. “I nullified any magic in the room.”

  Her tone was offhand. As if it was perfectly normal for a vampire to be capable of destroying a magical illusion.

  Hell, most of his brothers would kill for such a gift.

  “Dios,” he growled. “A nice trick.”

  “It only works for the space directly around me,” she qualified. “And only if the magic-user is not actively casting the spell.”

  “Can all of your clan do that?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Only me.”

  He prowled forward, holding her dark gaze. “Because you’re special?”

  She stepped back, then hastily tried to cover the revealing movement by moving toward the cot.

  “Shall we continue?”

  Normally Santiago would have pounced on the hint of weakness.

  Hey, it was a vampire-eat-vampire kind of world.

  But, while Nefri might aggravate the hell out of him, and he couldn’t resist attempting to crack through that cool composure, he never wanted her to feel anything but strong and proud when she was with him.

  Grabbing the end of the cot, he pulled it out of the way, his gaze on the wooden door.

  “Why do suppose Gaius would want to keep this door hidden?”

  “No doubt you intend to open it and find out,” she said dryly.

  He flashed her a wicked smile as he stepped forward and pushed the key into the brass lock.

  “You’re beginning to know me so well.”

  “Unfortunately.”

  Turning the key, Santiago was unprepared for the door to swing open with surprising force, revealing the hidden room beyond.

  “Stand back,” he commanded, instinctively shifting to protect his companion.

  Who knew what might lurk in the darkness?

  Then, when nothing leaped out to attack them, he cautiously stepped through the narrow doorway and promptly came to an incredulous halt.

  He was ... speechless.

  The room was barely larger than the closet and built of the same marble as everything else. But there was nothing barren in the life-size mural of a beautiful Egyptian female with long, ebony hair and dark, oblong eyes who was painted standing in front of the Great Pyramids.

  It was so lifelike that Santiago half expected her to step off the wall and pull him into her welcoming embrace.

  His gaze shifted to the wide shelf where a line of candles burned before moving on to the ivory satin gown that was neatly folded on top of a pair of gold embroidered pumps. Next to them were several wide gold bracelets and a matching necklace that glowed in the flickering candlelight.

  Entering behind him, Nefri made a soft sound of shock. “Oh my.”

  “Dara,” he said, an age-old sorrow twisting his heart.

  “You recognize her?”

  He gave a slow nod. “She was Gaius’s mate.”

  “Was?”

  “She and Gaius were captured by a rogue vampire clan.” His gaze returned to the lovely face that was filled with a rare kindness among vampires. There wasn’t a day that passed that he didn’t regret having traveled away from the lair the night it was attacked. “He was forced to watch as she was burned to ash in front of him.”

  “How ghastly.” Nefri’s fingers lightly brushed his shoulder, as if she sensed his own pain at the loss of Dara. “It is no wonder he sought the solace to be found here.”

  Solace?

  Santiago frowned, putting aside his grief as a vague warning that something wasn’t right niggled at the back of his mind.

  Once again his gaze made a slow circuit of the room, from the picture to the clothing that was clearly chosen with Dara’s modest taste in mind.

  It was, at last, the scent of detergent and the realization that the gown had been recently washed that made him stiffen in horror.

  “You believe that he came through the Veil seeking solace?” he demanded, a chill inching down his spine.

  “Of course.” Nefri lightly touched the portrait. “Where better to grieve? He would have been allowed the solitude he needed to recover from his dreadful loss.”

  “Or the solitude necessary to disguise his hidden agenda,” he added.

  Her hand dropped as she regarded him with confusion. “Agenda?”

  “Look around you, Nefri,” he urged softly. “This isn’t a shrine to loss.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “It’s a symbol of hope.” Plucking the gown off the shelf, he shook it beneath her nose. A dead wife didn’t need a new gown and her favorite shoes. “He wasn’t saying good-bye, he was preparing to be reunited with the woman he adores.”

  “Impossible,” she denied, even as her eyes darkened with a growing dismay.

  He understood her reluctance to consider the thought that her clansman might be a raving lunatic beneath his careful façade.

  Hell, Santiago didn’t want to believe it.

  Even after Gaius had abandoned him.

  But they didn’t have the option of sticking their heads in the sand.

  “Perhaps, but if the Dark Lord was able to convince Gaius he could return Dara, do you think there’s anything he wouldn’t do to make it happen?” he asked, waving a hand toward Dara’s portrait. “Including betray his own people?”

  Without warning she was out of the cramped chamber and crossing to the open doorway.

  “We must tell the Elders what we have discovered.”

  Rushing forward, Santiago grasped her upper arm and pulled her around to meet his stubborn glare.

  “And then we go to Styx and warn him.”

  “Yes.”

  He blinked, wondering if he’d been whisked into some bizzaro land.

  “No arguments?”

  The pale, perfect face was impossible to read. “No arguments.”

  “Dios. I suppose there truly are miracles.”

  Chapter 22

  Kneeling in the swirling mists, Ariyal cradled Tearloch’s motionless body in his arms.

  A part of him understood that he was surrounded by danger. And that he should be searching the fog for his missing mate so they could get the hell out of there. But a greater part was lost in the searing pain of taking the life of his brother.

  It didn’t matter that Tearloch had betrayed his tribe. Or that he’d led his fellow tribesmen into the vile hands of the wizard.

  Or even that he’d spent the last few seconds of his life trying to take off Ariyal’s head.

  For countless centuries they’d been brothers, standing side by side in battle and offering each other comfort after spending time
in Morgana’s bed.

  Their ties went too deep to be destroyed by a few weeks of madness.

  Lost in his grief, Ariyal was barely aware of Jaelyn’s silent approach. Not until she lightly touched his shoulder.

  “Ariyal.”

  “I couldn’t reach him.” His gaze never left the lifeless silver eyes. They had once shimmered with amusement or flashed with fury. Now they were empty. A reminder of what had been stolen. “I had no choice.”

  She bent down beside him, her expression filled with sympathy.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He gave a slow nod. “Is the wizard dead?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” A fierce stab of satisfaction pierced his heart. “He’s the first to pay for twisting Tearloch’s mind and nearly destroying my tribe. But he won’t be the last.”

  She squeezed his shoulder, offering a comfort that helped to blunt the sharp edges of his pain.

  “Ariyal, I feel your grief, but we have to get out of here.”

  He frowned at the throbbing urgency in her voice. “You said the wizard was dead.”

  “He is, but when he died his blood was ...” She grimaced, searching for the word she wanted. “Absorbed by the child.”

  “Absorbed?”

  “There’s no other way to say it.”

  He didn’t fully understand what she was talking about, but he could feel the fear that beat through her. Gently laying aside his brother, he rose to his feet, watching as she straightened.

  If Jaelyn was scared, then something really bad was going on.

  “Where’s the child now?”

  “It’s no longer a child.”

  “The Dark Lord?”

  “Yes.”

  “ Damn.”

  After everything they’d been through, everything they’d sacrificed, they were still too late.

  “What happened?”

  “After Tearloch’s death, the wizard became mortal. I didn’t even consider the consequences when I put a bullet through his brain.”

  “Jaelyn.” He grasped her face, attempting to ease her rising panic. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “No, it’s not.” She shook her head. “He’s resurrected. Or I guess she is. Or whatever.”

  Still trying to sort through her flustered explanation, Ariyal froze at the wash of electricity that suddenly danced over his skin.

  “Jaelyn,” a female voice cooed, slicing easily through the fog.