Dante tugged her protectively close. “We all know you are doing your best.”
“Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?” Styx pressed, impervious to his fellow vampire’s growing annoyance.
One arrogant king was obviously just like another.
Whether they were vamp or Were.
Abby shrugged, her expression troubled. “It’s not out of the ordinary, but I do sense something I can only describe as…evil. I’ve felt it ever since I became the Chalice, so to be honest, I’ve learned to ignore it.”
“Do you sense which direction it comes from?”
“I can do better than that. I can tell you exactly where it comes from.”
“Where?”
“The caves where we fought the dark prince.”
Harley took an instinctive step backwards as the two vamps stiffened in shock. She didn’t know anything about the caves or dark prince, but it clearly struck a nerve.
“Bloody hell,” Dante muttered.
Abby shivered, nestling closer to her mate. “That’s why I’ve always dismissed the creepy sensations. I assumed it was some sort of residual nastiness from the mages.”
Styx narrowed his eyes. “The mages.”
“They’re dead,” Dante said, his voice flat and cold.
Definitely a story there.
“Unless they had a backup team,” Abby pointed out.
The suggestion was enough to make Dante’s fangs lengthen and his silver eyes flash with an eagerness to kill.
“You think someone else is trying to open the portal between dimensions?” he demanded of his king.
“It’s possible, although I think it more likely that a demon lord managed to discover an anchor in this world before the portal was closed,” Styx said grimly.
A chill shot down Harley’s spine. Holy crap. That couldn’t be good.
“What’s an anchor?” Harley asked.
“A lesser creature who accepts a portion of the demon lord’s power. If the bond is strong enough it would allow the demon to continue to touch this world even after the goddess was summoned, although not directly.”
“The King of Weres,” Harley breathed.
Darcy regarded her in startled disbelief. “Salvatore?”
“No, the one before him. Mackenzie.” Wrapping her arms around her waist, Harley returned to her pacing, attempting to remember precisely what Salvatore had said about the previous king. “Salvatore suspected that something was wrong with him before he died. But why would a demon lord give a Were power? What’s in it for him?”
“The demon lord is capable of controlling his anchor and forcing him to do his bidding, but more importantly, he can siphon the life force of his victim,” Styx answered.
Harley came to an abrupt halt. “Life force?”
Styx shrugged. “Chi…soul…whatever you want to call it.”
“And it gives him power?”
“Yes.”
Darcy moved to grab her hand, her eyes dark with concern. “What are you thinking, Harley?”
An awful, horrible dread curled through the pit of her belly. She met Styx’s searching gaze.
“Caine always said that Salvatore’s strength came from his position as king. Is that true?”
“Salvatore is the strongest of the Weres or he would never have been able to claim the throne, but he is able to call on his pack when necessary.”
“So, he’s connected to them?”
“Of course…” Styx bit off his words, his features bleak. “Damn. The bastard has been draining the Weres. That’s why they’ve lost their ancient magic.”
Dante nodded. “It would explain a great deal.”
“But the previous king is dead, and I can’t believe Salvatore is willing to deal with a demon lord,” Darcy pointed out.
“He would never put his people at risk,” Harley snapped, unconsciously rushing to Salvatore’s defense. “It’s Briggs who has the black magic.”
Darcy gave her fingers a squeeze, but surprisingly it was Styx who offered reassurance.
“No one would suspect Salvatore of sharing power with a demon lord.” His lips twisted in a humorless smile. “Hell, he’s far too arrogant to share power with anyone.”
“Which must make him a pain in the ass if there’s a demon lord lurking out there,” Dante said. “Not only does his position as king prevent the bastard from drawing energy from the Were packs, but he has enough innate strength to threaten to bring back the ancient powers.”
“It would certainly be a reason for someone to want Salvatore dead,” Styx agreed.
Dante snorted. “Just one of many.”
Harley sent him a warning glare. “Hey.”
The vampire lifted his hands in a gesture of peace, his earrings glinting in the light of the Venetian chandeliers. “Sorry.”
“No one gets to kill him but me,” she informed her companions, pulling away from Darcy as she was struck by the sudden, vicious sensation that Salvatore was in trouble. God. It might be ridiculous, but she could physically feel his pain. “As soon as I track him down. So if you’ll excuse me. I really have to go.”
She was headed toward the door when Styx moved to stand directly in her path.
“Wait, Harley.”
With no choice, she came to a halt. She might like to think of herself as a badass, but she wasn’t suicidal enough to try to wrestle her way past the most dangerous demon in all the world.
“Please, I’ve wasted too much time already,” she whispered. The need to get to Salvatore was becoming downright unbearable.
“When I spoke with Salvatore, he said that the Were pursuing the two of you was a projection.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s any less dangerous.”
“No, but it does mean that his physical body has to be somewhere. My bet would be that he’s remaining close to the protection of his master.”
She frowned, attempting to follow his logic. “The caves?”
“Yes.”
“It’s strange,” Abby muttered. “Why would this demon lord choose the same place to hide as the dark prince?”
“I suppose it’s possible that a portion of the dark magic lingers and attracts evil. Or maybe the mages chose the location because the barrier between dimensions is thinner there. We shall soon discover.” Styx grasped her shoulders. “Will you join us, Harley?”
Chapter Seventeen
Salvatore had to force himself to enter the labyrinth beneath the abandoned graveyard.
Dio, he was sick to freaking death of dark, dank tunnels. Once he killed Briggs he intended to spend the next century running beneath open skies.
Of course, such a cold, miserable setting seemed appropriate for the treacherous pureblood. He was a maggot who deserved to decay alone in the gloomy depths.
The long tunnel at last spilled into a barren cavern. Salvatore came to a halt, catching the unmistakable stench of rotting flesh.
His nemesis had to be near.
“‘Welcome to my parlor, said the spider to the fly…’” he muttered as he glanced around the empty cavern with the walls that had been smoothed and polished over the years.
“An apt anthology,” Briggs taunted from the shadows.
Salvatore grimaced, waiting for the spooky music to be cued. That was all that was lacking to complete the hokey atmosphere.
“I love what you’ve done with your crib,” he drawled, folding his arms over his chest. “What do you call this? Post-Neanderthal?”
“It serves my current purpose.”
“And what purpose would that be?”
“To watch you die.”
Salvatore shook his head. He’d spent too long being jerked around by enemies who manipulated him from the shadows. This ended now.
“I don’t believe you.”
The chill in the air thickened. “You don’t think I intend to kill you?”
“I think there has to be a hell of a lot more to it than just my death. You would never have gone to
the trouble of kidnapping Harley and her sisters, or using Caine to keep me distracted if you were going to kill me.” Salvatore shrugged. “At least not if you are as powerful as you claim to be. You could have struck me dead in Rome after your miraculous rising from the grave.”
“But it’s been so much fun watching you chase your tail,” Briggs mocked, still keeping himself hidden behind his black magic.
“No doubt priceless entertainment,” Salvatore said dryly, “but hardly worth wasting decades when you could have been sitting on the throne.”
“My motives are none of your concern.”
“But they weren’t your motives, were they, Briggs? You’re nothing more than a toady dancing to someone else’s tune.”
Through the darkness, Salvatore heard the rasp of Briggs’s infuriated breath.
“Tut, tut, Salvatore,” he said, his voice tight. “Be careful you don’t annoy me.”
“Or what? You’ll talk me to death?” Salvatore sneered. “Too late.”
“You want more action? Very well. Your wish is my command.”
Salvatore lowered his arms, bracing for the attack. He had churned over the endless reasons he might have been lured to these caves since Briggs had demanded he come here. He hadn’t come to a logical conclusion—surprise, surprise—but he was certain as hell that it wasn’t going to be good for his health.
Still waiting for an unseen blow, Salvatore was caught off guard when there was an odd shimmer in the center of the room, and then the darkness seemed to part, like curtains being pulled back to reveal a stage.
With a frown, he watched as Briggs came into view. It wasn’t the projection of his physical body that Salvatore was expecting. This was more of a…window. A glimpse of Briggs as he stood somewhere else.
Somewhere in the caves, Salvatore decided. Although that didn’t precisely narrow down the possibilities. Even his limited ability to sense dark, creepy places could tell that the spiderweb of tunnels and caves were extensive.
Then Briggs gave a wave of his hand, and the vision widened to reveal that he was standing in a cave similar to the one to where Salvatore lingered. All bare rock and medieval torches. But that wasn’t what captured Salvatore’s attention.
No, it was the sight of the familiar Were who was kneeling at Briggs’s feet, his blond head bowed, his slender body wrapped in heavy silver chains.
Max.
Salvatore clenched his hands in impotent fury. He’d been prepared from the moment he caught the scent of his servants outside the graveyard to have them used against him. But that didn’t make the sight of Max being tortured any easier.
“You spineless coward,” Salvatore hissed. “If you want to fight, then face me like a man.”
Briggs laughed as he casually reached down to backhand the cur, snapping back his head and sending a spray of blood flying through the air.
“My house, my rules.”
“What do you want from me?”
The crimson eyes flashed with the sort of impressive fury that took centuries to nurture.
“I want you to suffer before you die,” he hissed, grabbing Max by the hair and viciously shaking him. “I want you to watch as I torture your servants. I want you to know that once I take your throne, I’ll destroy everything you loved or cared for in your life.”
The king in him demanded that he try to negotiate with the Were. It might piss him off to admit that Briggs held the upper hand, but for the moment it was the unfortunate truth.
The wolf in him, however, snapped.
A member of his pack was under attack, and it was his place as alpha to protect him.
“No, you bastard. I’m done with your games,” he gritted, heading across the cavern to the tunnel on the other side. “You can’t hide from me any longer.”
“Stay where you are or I’ll kill him, Salvatore.”
“Not if I rip out your heart first.”
“Salvatore. Come back. Salvatore.”
Ignoring the furious commands, Salvatore charged through the darkness, his skin prickling and the glow of his eyes bathing the stone walls in shades of gold.
His wolf clawed to get out, eager for the taste of blood in his mouth and the feel of flesh tearing beneath his claws. His animal half was ready and eager to wreak havoc among his enemies.
Following the twisting tunnels ever deeper into the earth, Salvatore savagely beat back his beast.
Soon enough he would rip Briggs into tiny shreds and feed him to the rats. For now he had to keep his priorities straight.
Rescue his curs.
Discover who was behind the nefarious plot.
Mutilate and destroy Briggs.
In that order.
Passing through empty caverns, some obviously having been used as living spaces in the past and others as grim prisons, he ignored the strange energy in the air that muted his senses. He might not be able to follow Briggs’s scent, but the spineless worm couldn’t hide the nasty iciness that clung to him like a shroud.
Following the growing chill in the air, Salvatore at last came close enough to the bastard to smell the stench of rotting flesh.
He slowed, entering the large cavern with a stone altar and burning brazier set in the middle of the floor.
“I know you’re here,” he growled, checking the nooks and crannies that were shrouded in heavy darkness. The chill was thick enough to give him frostbite. “Briggs? I can smell your cowardice.”
Briggs’s laugh echoed through the cavern. “Always so full of yourself, Salvatore.”
“Then come out of the shadows and let’s put an end to this.” The words had barely left Salvatore’s lips when there was the sound of shuffling feet and Hess made an appearance from behind a stalagmite—or was it stalactite?—whatever. The important thing was the rigid expression on his servant’s face, and the blank emptiness in his eyes as he charged directly toward Salvatore. “Shit.”
“Don’t blame me if you don’t like the game,” Briggs countered in sly tones, taking obvious enjoyment in watching Salvatore scramble to avoid Hess’s attack.
Muttering beneath his breath, Salvatore crouched and watched as Hess abruptly shifted into his wolf form.
Cristo. This was exactly what he hoped to avoid. His soldier was completely under the thrall of Briggs, helpless to do anything but what the damned bastard commanded.
With a fluid movement, he jerked free the knife he’d tucked into his ankle holster before heading for these caves. It was silver, but it would do less damage than the silver bullets he’d loaded in his handgun.
Or at least that was the plan.
Balanced on the balls of his feet, Salvatore was prepared when Hess jumped forward, his massive jaws snapping at his head. Jerking back to avoid the fangs that could easily rip out his throat, Salvatore brought the knife upward, slicing a thin wound through the cur’s upper chest.
He wanted to stop Hess with as little damage as possible.
Of course, what he wanted and what he got was rarely the same.
With the scratch of claws on stone, Hess scrambled to turn and squatted down as he prepared to pounce. The acrid scent of burned flesh filled the air, but Salvatore only had to glance at Hess with his eyes flashing crimson and his lips curled back in a snarl to know it was going to take more than a scratch to end this battle.
He clenched his teeth and prepared for another assault. He didn’t have to wait long.
Familiar enough with his finest soldier’s tactics, Salvatore was prepared when he feinted a strike high and then darted low to attempt to circle round and hamstring him. He swiftly turned and slashed with the knife, catching Hess on the muzzle.
The cur whined as the silver bit deep into his flesh, the blood flowing, his flesh burned by the silver. Shaking his head in a pained motion, Hess appeared briefly defeated, then with a sudden leap he hit Salvatore directly in the chest, knocking him to the ground.
Salvatore managed to yank his head to the side, avoiding the snapping teeth, but it left
him vulnerable and he howled in pain as Hess sank his fangs into his shoulder. The cur tore a chunk of flesh from him before Salvatore managed to get a grip on the cur’s thick coat, and with a savage thrust tossed him against the wall.
There was a nasty crunch as Hess hit his head against the unrelenting stone, falling boneless to the ground.
“Ah. What a beautiful sight,” Briggs hissed as Salvatore lay flat on his back, the wound in his shoulder deep enough to take an effort to heal. “The mighty King of Weres wallowing in the dirt. Exactly where he belongs.”
“Screw you,” Salvatore muttered, swallowing his whimper of pain as he forced himself to his feet.
Instinctively his gaze went to the cur lying broken and bleeding on the hard stone. Hess. He lived, but he was seriously injured. Just another motivation to hunt down Briggs and make him pay for ever crawling out of his revolting grave.
Moving across the cavern, Salvatore hissed in frustration. His head ached from where it had bounced off the ground and his shoulder continued to leak blood as the flesh struggled to knit back together. The uncompleted mating bond was making it difficult to repair his injuries, but he wasn’t going to wait.
Briggs had to be close.
He couldn’t have held Hess in thrall unless he was.
Which meant that this time, he wasn’t going to escape.
Trusting his instincts, he clutched the knife tight in his hand and circled the edge of the cavern.
“There’s no one left to hide behind,” he taunted, using the increasing cold to lead him toward a connected cave.
“I don’t fear you.”
“You always were an idiot,” Salvatore muttered, his skin prickling as a foul clamminess washed over him. God Almighty. Briggs was just…wrong. “Come out, come out, wherever you are.” He abruptly halted, the overwhelming stench of rotting flesh breaking through the spell that had been muting it. “Bingo.”
There was a cold rush of air and instinctively Salvatore ducked, growling as the sword whistled less than an inch above his head.
He’d been expecting magic, not mundane weapons.
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