She was whole.
Complete.
The thought had barely passed through her aching brain when she realized there was more than just the essence of Salvatore racing through her blood. There was his power. More power than she’d ever dreamed possible.
Charging full throttle through her body, it washed away her weariness and healed her wounds at record speed.
With a moan, she leaned against the altar, struggling to remain upright as her bones mended and her flesh knit back together at an insane rate. Holy crap. The patching up hurt nearly as much as the initial injury.
At last the deluge of power settled to something bearable, and sucking in a steadying breath, Harley straightened enough to stab Salvatore with a suspicious frown.
“What the hell just happened?”
Salvatore smiled with smug satisfaction. “Exactly what you think happened.”
The mating.
It was complete.
“Oh, shit.”
“Too late for regrets, cara.”
She bit back the urge to tell him that this mating didn’t change a thing between them. Although Salvatore had done his own share of healing, the silver chains continued to burn his flesh and sap his energy.
“It might be too late, period, if we don’t get out of here,” she muttered, her attention shifting to the large silver lock that held the chains in place.
For all the power that tingled through her, she didn’t think she could free him with her bare hands.
As if reading her mind, Salvatore jerked his head toward the shadows behind the altar.
“See if you can find Briggs’s stash of weapons. He’s always had an obsession with big swords. No doubt to compensate for what he lacked in other areas.”
Harley shook her head. They didn’t have time for her to go on a treasure hunt. Already the black mist was beginning to form over the flames of the brazier. She had to get Salvatore loose, and she had to do it now.
“I have a better idea,” she muttered, bending down to lift a heavy rock from the base of the altar.
Holding the rock in one hand, she grabbed the lock, hissing as it instantly blistered her skin.
Salvatore struggled against the chains, his face tight with frustration.
“Merda, you’ll hurt yourself.”
“Turn your head away.”
It was the only warning she gave him before she set the lock against the stone altar and lifted the rock to smash the stupid thing over and over. Sparks flew and the sharp sound echoed through the cavern, but with stoic persistence, Harley at last beat the lock to a mangled bit of metal that fell away from the chains with a reluctant clunk.
With a harsh growl, Salvatore shoved the loosened chains off him and leaped from the altar. Then, yanking the knife out of his upper thigh, he glanced at the smashed lock at his feet.
“Remind me not to piss you off.”
“Too late,” she muttered, anxious to get the hell out of the caves. She had reached the end of her tolerance for dark, cramped places and vicious enemies who enjoyed causing pain. “I think that blob of a demon lord is trying to make an encore performance.”
With a nod, Salvatore clutched the knife and began to head back toward the opening of the cavern.
“Let’s get the hell out of here.”
On creepy cue, the blob shifted away from the brazier and headed directly toward them.
“No,” the demon lord hissed. “We have not yet finished our business, Giuliani.”
“Oh, we’re finished,” Salvatore growled, shoving Harley behind him as the mist swooped downward and attacked.
“Shit.” Harley flinched as the pain smacked into her with the force of a freight train. “How are we supposed to fight this stupid thing?”
Salvatore shoved the knife into the heart of the mist, making it shudder and pull back, but only for a moment. Before they could run, it was returning for another attack.
“He was taking his power from my blood,” Salvatore gritted.
Blood? Harley glanced back at the altar, realizing that the blood Salvatore had lost was pooled in a small cavity at the end of the altar and continued a steady drip into the flames.
She didn’t know jack squat about demon lords, but she had to try something.
“Keep him busy,” she ordered Salvatore, making a dash toward the brazier.
Slashing at the mist with his knife, Salvatore snarled when the flames shot directly toward her.
“Harley.”
“Trust me.”
She tried again to approach the brazier, only to be driven back by the fierce heat. Dammit. There had to be a way.
Turning her attention from the blazing fire, she instead approached the altar. If it was Salvatore’s blood that gave the demon lord his power, then she had to get rid of it.
Easier said than done.
She might still be buzzing from the mating with Salvatore, but the altar was massive. It would be nothing less than a miracle to move it by herself.
She was considering how best to tackle the daunting task when the feel of Salvatore’s pain echoed deep inside her. A glance over her shoulder revealed the black mist had nearly engulfed him.
As if he sensed her hesitation, he sent her an impatient frown.
“Harley.”
“I’m working on it,” she said, putting her shoulder against the altar and shoving with all her might.
“Work faster.”
“If you think this mating thing gives you the right to nag at me, then you better think again.”
Her muscles burned, her legs shaking with the effort to shift the stupid lump of stone. She gained a smidge. Then a half an inch, but she could still hear the relentless drops of blood hitting the flames.
She gritted her teeth. Her muscles were on fire and her shoulder popped out of joint, but she refused to concede defeat.
Dammit, this had to work.
Focused on the altar, Harley barely heard Salvatore when he shouted in warning.
“Look out.”
She grunted as the pain slammed into the back of her head, digging through her skull with nauseating force. Her knees went weak and knowing she was losing the battle, she glanced over her shoulders, relieved to discover that Salvatore was already headed in her direction.
“We’re going to have to do it together,” she gritted.
Something hot and dangerous flashed in the golden eyes. Something that would have sent Harley fleeing in terror if she hadn’t been distracted by her pesky fear of imminent death.
“Si. Together, cara.”
Using a running start, Salvatore rammed into the altar, making it shift another inch. There was a shrill scream of fury that filled the cavern, and the pain in Harley’s brain became crippling.
The demon lord was clearly displeased with their efforts.
Which meant it had to be hurting the bastard.
“More,” she managed to gasp, sensing they had only moments before the demon lord could gather enough strength to crush them like bugs.
Salvatore grunted as he placed his hands against the altar and pushed with all he was worth. Which happened to be a great deal. His muscles bulged and the veins of his neck popped out as he added his strength to hers.
The unnerving screeching continued, and the pain filtered from Harley’s brain down her spine, threatening to drain the last of her strength. But with Salvatore at her side, they managed to keep the pressure on the altar, and with a deafening crack the bottom at last broke free of the stone floor.
Breathing heavily, Harley watched as the massive stone slowly toppled over, breaking into a dozen pieces. For a moment, Salvatore stood at her side, then with a low curse he turned and kicked the brazier.
The flames sputtered, the hot coals spreading across the floor like glowing gems. Immediately the ravaging pain disappeared and with a gasp, Harley sank to her knees.
“Is it gone?”
“I don’t intend to stick around to find out.” Reaching down, Salvato
re scooped her off the ground and headed for the entrance to the cavern. “Time to go.”
On the point of commanding that he put her down, Harley stiffened as a deep boom echoed through the air and dust trickled down from the ceiling.
“Why don’t I think that’s a good thing?” she muttered.
“Cristo.” Tucking her against his chest, Salvatore sprinted through the tunnels. “I’m growing tired of having caves falling on my head.”
“No shit,” she muttered, feeling the tremors that preceded a full-scale collapse. “Next time you piss off a demon lord, could you make sure he has a lair on the Riviera?”
His laughter echoed off the crumbling walls of the tunnel. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Chapter Nineteen
Caine didn’t know how much time had passed when he returned to the land of the living.
It had to be long enough for the worst of his injuries to have healed, although he wasn’t ready to do any backflips. He was still weak, and his muscles groaned in protest when he forced himself to his feet.
Glancing up, he studied the tiny opening of the pit far above his head. One thing was for certain. There was no way to get out the way he came in. He was a cur, not a damned bat.
“He’s right about one thing. I am a stupid prick,” he muttered, recalling Briggs’s mocking words as he’d plummeted through the air. “Stupid and oh-so-dead. Why did I ever believe that bastard?” He turned his attention to his stark surroundings. “Because I wanted to believe. I was convinced I was so freaking special. What a joke.”
With a shake of his head, Caine headed toward the nearest tunnel. He could wallow in self-pity and walk at the same time. God only knew how long it was going to take to find a way out of the hellhole.
He traveled through the low tunnels, occasionally slogging through water that tumbled from God only knew where, and more than once he was forced to bend over nearly in half to keep from banging his head.
All and all, a perfectly miserable journey.
Over an hour passed before Caine at last caught the scent of something besides damp rocks. Coming to a halt, he peered through the crack in the tunnel wall that revealed a small cave on the other side.
“Hello? Who’s there?” He sucked in a deep breath, testing the air. There it was again. The faint scent of…Were? “Harley?” There was a rustle of sound and he caught the glimpse of a shadow dart past the narrow crack. “Shit.”
Unable to bust his way through the thick wall, Caine splashed down the tunnel, hoping to find an opening into the cave. The smell wasn’t exactly Harley’s, but it was close enough that the Were had to be her relation.
Why the pureblood would be down here defied his imagination, but the mere hope she might lead him out of the nightmare maze was enough to make him ignore the danger of decapitation from the low ceiling as he dashed recklessly through the dark.
The scent deepened, the hint of lavender tugging at his senses, leading him down a side tunnel. He didn’t have a clue where he was going, but suddenly finding the Were had become the most important task in his life.
His pace instinctively slowed as the tunnel ended at the opening to a large cavern.
Unlike the rest of the lower chambers, he sensed that someone regularly spent time in this area. His gaze scanned the shadows, taking in the shallow stream of water that had cut a groove in the smooth floor, and the stones that had been chiseled to resemble chairs.
No bat did that bit of sculpting.
Caine stepped into the cave, already sensing the Were hidden behind one of the larger stalagmites.
“You might as well come out,” he commanded.
There was a tense pause, then with a slow movement, the diminutive pureblood stepped into view.
The hint of familiarity in her scent had already prepared Caine for the female’s striking resemblance to Harley.
Her hair was a paler shade, closer to silver than blond, and pulled into a braid that fell to her waist. Her skin was a perfect alabaster, smooth and silken. Her eyes were also lighter, green the color of spring grass and flecked with gold.
Her face, however, was shaped exactly like Harley’s, and beneath the frayed jeans and sweatshirt her body was slender, but hard with well-honed muscles.
She had to be one of the four pure-blooded females.
The one that Briggs had taken after they were nearly discovered in Chicago.
The Were had told him he’d sent her to a cur pack in Indiana. He should have known it was a lie.
Nothing else that had come out of the bastard’s mouth had been true.
Staring at him with wide eyes, she tilted her head to the side, as if listening to a voice only she could hear.
“You shouldn’t be down here.”
He took a step forward. “Who are you?”
“Nobody.” She warily shifted backwards. “I’m nobody.”
Holding up his hands in a gesture of peace, Caine took another step forward.
“Easy, love,” he soothed. “What’s your name?”
“I don’t have one.”
He frowned. Was she jerking his chain? Or was she just flat-ass crazy?
“Everyone has a name.”
She shrugged at his disbelieving expression. “I’m still waiting to discover what it’s going to be.” She stilled, abruptly glancing toward the ceiling. “I have to go.”
With the quicksilver grace of a fairy, the female spun on her heel and darted toward a narrow opening on the far side of the cavern.
“Hold on.” She ignored his command. Of course. Being stubborn had to be coded into the sisters’ DNA. Without so much as a backwards glance, she disappeared from sight. “Freaking hell.”
Caine was in swift pursuit, ignoring the very real possibility that this was another trap devised by Briggs.
He had to find the female.
He didn’t know why. He only knew that it wasn’t an option to allow her to escape.
Turning sideways to squeeze through the narrow opening, Caine entered the small cave. It was no larger than most bedrooms, with a narrow cot next to one wall and a battered dresser beneath a broken mirror next to another wall.
His brows snapped together at the realization that the stark, desolate cell must be where the beautiful woman was kept. An unexpected and unstoppable fury exploded through him.
Completely irrational considering he had more or less held Harley hostage.
Still, after the past few days, he wasn’t in the mood to be rational.
Intent on the silver-haired Were, it wasn’t until she’d bent to light a candle that he was aware of the odd shimmers in the air.
“What the hell…”
His hair threatened to stand on end as his gaze slid over the foreign glyphs that covered the stone walls. In the flickering candlelight they glowed in a strangely hypnotic manner.
“You can’t be here,” the woman whispered, wrapping her arms around herself as she sank to her knees beside the cot.
“I hate to argue with a beautiful woman, but obviously I can,” he absently muttered, moving toward the nearest wall. “What is this place?”
“It’s a secret.”
He halted just inches from the wall, studying the designs. “Did you do these?”
“Yes.”
A peculiar sensation inched down Caine’s spine as he realized that the glyphs weren’t carved onto the walls as he first assumed, but instead floated just above the rough surface, occasionally shifting and changing color with a dizzying speed.
These weren’t random works of art created by a bored pureblood.
This was…power.
Turning, he moved back to tower over her kneeling form. “What are they?”
“Pain, joy…death.” She shook her head, fear rippling over her delicate face. “You have to go. He’ll be mad if he finds you here.”
Caine hadn’t been feared among curs far and wide for no good reason. He could be cold, cunning, and calculating. He could also be brutal when the o
ccasion demanded.
But something pierced his heart as he gazed down at the fragile woman. Something rare and perilous.
Without thought, he was kneeling in front of her, reaching to grab her chilled fingers.
“Who?” he rasped. “Who will be mad?”
“He’ll kill you.”
“Are you a prisoner?” he demanded. She ducked her head, and he hooked a thumb beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his searching gaze. “Look at me. Are you being held here against your will?”
“He won’t let me out.”
“Tell me who it is.”
A shadow crossed her face. “I’m not allowed to say his name.”
“Is it Briggs?”
“The dead Were? No.” A small smile touched her lips. “He’s frightened of me.”
Caine couldn’t hide his surprise. Briggs was the sort of nightmarish creature that would terrify any demon. Why would he be frightened of this tiny Were?
“Frightened?”
She shrugged. “He shouldn’t have asked if he didn’t want to know.”
“Know what?”
“His future.” She pointed toward one of the swirling glyphs. “There.”
Caine frowned in confusion. “What is it?”
The pale green eyes stabbed him with an unnervingly piercing gaze. As if she could see into his very soul.
“Death.”
“Christ.”
Caine jerked in shock. Dammit. For decades he allowed himself to be blinded by a vision that his rational brain told him was impossible. Not only would it take nothing less than a miracle to turn him from a cur into a pureblood, but Briggs’s claim that his black magic gave him the power to reveal the future was beyond crazy.
After all, most of the known prophets were under the control of the Oracles, and they possessed only random flashes of the future. Enough to grasp an overall image of various possibilities or pivotal events, but not a detailed revelation for an individual.
And now, when he’d at last accepted that he’d been a total putz to fall for Briggs’s scheme, he was confronted by the most extraordinary of all creatures.
“You’re a seer,” he breathed.
Beyond the Darkness Page 23
