“Because we were weak.”
“For God’s sake. That’s enough.” She stepped until they were a mere inch apart. The cur might be twice her height and three times her weight, but she was a pure-blood and her strength would always be superior. “Salvatore needs us.”
“What can we do?” Hess demanded. “If we get close to Briggs, he will just use us against Salvatore.”
Hardly a newsflash. She’d already realized the danger of allowing the curs near the cabin. Which was the only reason they weren’t charging to the rescue. But she wasn’t prepared to sit around doing nothing.
“We don’t have to be near. Salvatore’s the king. Can’t he use you as a boost to his powers?”
“Yes. But…”
Harley’s heart faltered at the sudden scowl that marred Hess’s face.
“But what?”
“I don’t feel him.”
“You mean he’s not calling on your powers, or you can’t feel him at all?”
His hand shifted to press against his chest. “I can’t feel him at all. There’s something blocking our bond.”
“Magic?”
“It has to be.”
Damn Briggs. He obviously still had enough black magic to interfere in Salvatore’s connection to his pack.
“Why do I still sense him?”
Hess shrugged. “It must be the mating bond.”
“A fat lot of good that’s going to do,” she muttered, then her eyes widened. “Wait. Can Salvatore use it to gain strength?”
“Only from you.”
“Shit.” Harley returned to pacing, the ball of fear in the pit of her stomach becoming unbearable. “This is bad.”
“Really bad,” Hess agreed, his voice grim.
“There has to be something.” Her steps slowed as she was struck by a sudden realization. “Wait. I’m the queen.”
Hess regarded her warily, as if wondering if she was laying some sort of trap.
“Yes.”
“Then I should be able to do the whole…” She waved her hands. “Sucking power thing, shouldn’t I?”
He stiffened, his obsession with formality offended by her casual manner.
“You shouldn’t make fun of our bond with Salvatore,” he rasped, his unwavering loyalty to the King of Weres shining in his eyes. “It’s an ancient tradition.”
She bit back the urge to tell the cur that the feudal days were long gone and the serfs had been freed.
She was slowly beginning to accept that the rituals and customs that were so important among the werewolves weren’t just an antiquated means of keeping the curs enslaved, as Caine had always claimed. They were a tangible expression of the intimate bonds that held a pack together.
“You’re right, but can we worry about political correctness later, Hess?” She reached to lay her hand on his stiff arm. “I need to know if I can be a…” She searched for the proper word. “A conduit to share your powers with Salvatore.”
Hess gave a helpless lift of his hands. “I don’t know.”
She made a sound of impatience, her fingers digging into his arm.
“Then help me try,” she charged. “I don’t even know where to begin. How does Salvatore do it?”
“He just…” Hess halted, clearly at a loss. “Does it.”
Does it?
Well, that helped a butt-load.
Biting her bottom lip, Harley tried to ignore the gnawing sense that Salvatore was in danger. Instead, she concentrated on the vague tingle of distress that she was certain was coming from Hess.
She didn’t know how she could feel it, but she did know that she hadn’t noticed it until she had actually touched the cur.
“Okay, I want everyone in a circle,” she said, ignoring the frowns of the curs as she urged them into the center of the vestibule. “Now take the hand of the person on each side of you.”
“If you think I’m going to sing “Kumbaya,” then you’re out of your mind,” the blond-headed cur muttered.
“Shut up.” She glanced around the circle, grabbing the female cur’s hand on one side, and Hess’s on the other. “If you want to help Salvatore, then I need you to concentrate.”
“Concentrate on what?” Hess demanded.
Wondering how the hell she’d gotten in so far over her head, Harley closed her eyes and filled her mind with the image of Salvatore.
“Me,” she muttered. “Concentrate on me.”
Laying facedown on the ground, Salvatore planted his hands on the floor and willed his stiff limbs to cooperate. Dio. He could already hear Briggs digging his claws into the floorboards as he prepared for another attack.
Now was the time for the grand heroics he had planned.
If only he could get to his feet.
He turned his head, preparing to push himself upright, when a glint of silver caught his eye. Pausing, he pressed his head back to the filthy floor, peering under the sofa.
Of course.
Briggs’s stash of weapons.
He never left home without them.
Now, the question was whether he could battle through the black magic still clinging to his body and find the strength to get his hands on the weapons before Briggs killed him.
Blood dripped from his shredded shoulder and he had at least a half dozen broken bones, but he managed to get to his knees. He would crawl if he had to.
Intent on reaching the sofa, it took Salvatore a moment to notice the stench of Briggs was being replaced by a hint of musk and pure, rich earth.
The scent of pack.
Fear jolted through him. Merda. His curs couldn’t be stupid enough to risk coming to the cabin. Not when they had to know that they would be used as weapons against him.
It took a long moment to realize the scent was coming from him. And that it was strong enough to have made Briggs hesitate in wary confusion.
Painfully rising to his feet, Salvatore felt an unexpected heat flow through his blood, searing away the vile magic and healing his body. He shuddered as sensation returned to his deadened body, deepening his connection to his mate.
Harley.
This had to be her doing.
Somehow she had tapped into the power of the pack and allowed it to flow through their mating bond.
Clever woman.
Perhaps sensing his prey was no longer helpless, and worse, about to kick his ass, Briggs threw back his head and howled with a fury that shook the rafters. Then, bunching his muscles, he launched his massive body through the air.
Salvatore was already moving.
No longer hampered by the black magic, he swiftly grabbed the nearby sofa and smashed it into Briggs, sending him flying into the far wall.
There was a sharp yelp as the Were hit with enough force to crack the wall, but Salvatore’s attention was on the pile of swords and silver daggers that had been hidden beneath the nasty sofa. Reaching down, he snatched a long sword from the pile, and whirling toward the center of the room, he spread his legs and balanced himself on the balls of his feet.
He would be stronger and faster if he shifted, but removing the bastard’s head would be easier with a sword than with his fangs, if not quite as satisfying. He no longer wanted to drag out the death of the traitor with a slow, painful torture.
He wanted the world rid of Briggs.
Now.
Prepared for the next attack, Salvatore watched Briggs regain his footing, his crimson eyes flashing with hatred, and his fur bristled with a battle lust. The Were was crazed, with a combination of pain and frustration, and obviously incapable of rational thought.
Otherwise he would have fled the cabin and prayed he could find a deep dark cave to hide in.
Crouching low, Briggs pulled his lips back to reveal his fangs that dripped with Salvatore’s blood. Then, remaining low to the ground, he charged, his jaws snapping open as he prepared to hamstring Salvatore.
Salvatore didn’t hesitate.
The sword flashed downward in a smooth arc, slicing deep i
nto the werewolf’s shoulder. It wasn’t a killing blow, but the blade cut through muscle and tendons, crippling the Were. Briggs snarled, but he was too far gone to give a crap that he was badly wounded.
Sinking his fangs into the back of Salvatore’s leg, he tried to yank Salvatore to the ground, snarling in frustration as his wounded leg buckled, refusing to give him leverage.
Salvatore grimaced in pain, using the hilt of the sword to smash into Briggs’s muzzle, ripping his fangs from Salvatore’s thigh and breaking the pureblood’s jaw in the process.
“It appears that my reunion with Mackenzie will have to be postponed,” he taunted, his sword already swinging toward the Were’s throat. “But I’m sure he’ll be happy to welcome you back.”
With a belated attempt at self-preservation, Briggs scrambled backwards, the putrid scent of rotting flesh thick in the air. Gagging at the stench, Salvatore never allowed his stroke to falter, putting his full strength behind the blow.
Cristo. Enough was enough.
With deadly accuracy, the sword hit the Were directly on the neck, the impact jolting through Salvatore’s body even as the blade slid through the flesh and bone.
There was no sound as Briggs’s head toppled from his body, his crimson eyes still filled with his twisted loathing. Grimacing, Salvatore swiftly cut out the bastard’s heart and backed away as a sluggish trickle of blood oozed from the life-ending wounds.
Merda. Briggs’s carcass smelled even worse dead.
Salvatore would have bet good money that wasn’t possible.
And more disturbing, there was a nasty tingle of black magic that was beginning to swirl through the air.
Holding the sword as if it could keep back the unpleasant chill filling the cabin, Salvatore unconsciously shook his head in denial.
No. He couldn’t rise from the dead again.
Not without the powers of his demon lord.
Logically accepting that the nightmare was at an end, however, didn’t keep Salvatore from continuing to back away as he waited for Briggs’s body to return to its human form.
He’d been played and manipulated like a mindless putz for centuries.
He wasn’t taking anything for granted.
The sound of Salvatore’s breathing was the only sound to break the thick silence. Then, at last, a faint shimmer covered the mutilated corpse.
Expecting the transformation back to human form, Salvatore hissed in shock as the head and body began to darken and then disintegrate, as if it were turning to ash before his eyes.
Dio. The bastard was…dissolving.
Salvatore resisted the perfectly sensible urge to flee in horror. He could only assume that this was a consequence of the spell that had brought Briggs back to life. After all, he’d been nothing more than a pile of ash after Salvatore had been done with him the first time. It was, perhaps, only to be expected that he would return to his original form once he was no longer a puppet of the demon lord.
Salvatore had never been particularly squeamish, but he found his stomach heaving as the last of Briggs vanished into a pile on the floorboards.
It was a suitable end to the traitor, but still unnerving as hell.
At last accepting that there wasn’t going to be another Lazareth act, Salvatore tossed aside his sword and crossed the barren room to grab the candle set in the windowsill.
Then with a brief prayer, he tossed the candle to the center of the room and walked out the front door.
He’d barely reached the edge of the tree line when the cabin was consumed in flames.
The end of his past.
And the beginning of his future.
A smile of anticipation curved his lips.
Epilogue
It was approaching midnight when Harley wandered through the hallways of Styx’s Chicago mansion.
It had been over a week since she and Salvatore had escaped from the demon lord, but this was the first time she had ventured out of the massive guest rooms.
A smile of pure satisfaction curved her lips.
Actually, she’d barely been out of bed for the past week.
Why should she have?
She had everything she needed.
A gorgeous, totally edible mate who devoted himself utterly to keeping her satisfied. A hot tub to soak away the sore muscles after marathon bouts of sex. Fabulous food delivered to the door by a discreet vampire.
Nothing less than nirvana.
Tonight, however, was a full moon and Salvatore had taken off at sunset for a wild run through the surrounding countryside. He’d urged her to join him. Even if she didn’t shift, she could feel the tug of the moon and the desire to be out in the night, running free, but she had firmly declined.
As much as she’d enjoyed the past few days, she knew that they were stolen moments that were swiftly coming to an end.
Salvatore was the King of Weres, and while he’d spent a portion of each day speaking with various pack leaders on the phone or by computer, she understood that he couldn’t remain in virtual isolation.
And she had her own duties, she reminded herself with a faint grimace.
Somehow during her efforts to link her powers with the curs to help Salvatore defeat Briggs, she’d bonded the poor schmucks to her. A stroke of luck since the whole bonding thing managed to heal their broken spirits, but a bit unnerving since they had decided they were now her personal guards, and refused to leave the mansion without her.
At some point she had to decide what the heck to do with them.
First, however, she wanted to spend some time with her sister.
So, giving Salvatore a lingering kiss, she’d sent him on his furry way and pulled on a pair of jeans and tank top to go in search of Darcy.
A half hour later, she managed to stumble across her in a peach-and-ivory room that had been converted to a private theater, with a huge plasma TV and several over-stuffed couches. Darcy was curled on the center sofa, a tray beside her that held a large bowl of popcorn and a large thermos.
Sensing her arrival, Darcy pressed a button on the remote to pause the movie and gestured for Harley to join her.
Walking across the ivory carpet, Harley settled on the couch, tucking her feet beneath her in a mirror image of her sister.
“I’m not interrupting?”
“Good grief, no. I hoped you would join me tonight.” Darcy reached for the thermos. “Salvatore has been entirely too selfish with your time.”
Harley laughed, a delicious heat racing through her blood at the memory of Salvatore’s insatiable hunger.
“He’s not entirely to blame.”
Darcy flashed a wicked smile. “Good for you. Hot chocolate?”
“Sounds perfect.” Allowing her sister to press the large mug into her hand, Harley glanced toward the TV, her brows raising as she realized what her sister was watching. “Terminator? I would have guessed you were more a Singin’ in the Rain fan.”
“Are you kidding me?” Darcy waggled her brows. “A chance to see Arnold naked? Priceless.”
“True.” Harley held up her mug in a toast to man candy everywhere. “To a naked Arnold.”
Darcy touched her mug to Harley’s. “Here, here.”
Sipping the creamy chocolate, Harley settled into the soft cushions.
“I assumed Styx would be with you.”
Darcy grimaced. “He’s busy on his throne.”
Harley gave a choked laugh. “Excuse me?”
“He’s having an official powwow with Dante and Viper. I think even Cezar stopped by.”
“Trouble?”
Darcy’s smile faded, concern darkening her eyes. “Levet is still missing.”
“But…I thought he’d been captured by Caine.”
“Apparently not. Your curs said that they found no trace of him.”
“Damn.” Harley frowned in dismay. She’d only known the tiny creature a short time, but she’d become attached to him. “He helped to save me and Salvatore from Caine’s cell. I hope he’
s okay.”
“So do I. He acts tough, but he’s not as indestructible as he wants others to believe.”
Harley reached to grab her sister’s hand, offering what comfort she could.
“I have to admit I’m surprised that Styx and the other vampires would be bothered by Levet’s disappearance. I had a fairly strong feeling they found him annoying.”
Darcy squeezed her fingers, her smile wry. “Styx knows how much Levet means to me, but the vampires are far more concerned with the disappearance of Tane.”
“Tane?”
“Yet another vampire.”
Harley had a vague memory of Salvatore mentioning the vampire, but nothing more.
“What does he have to do with Levet?”
“Levet said he was following Tane’s trail the last time we heard from him.”
Okay, that didn’t sound good.
Still, it wasn’t like a babe lost in the woods.
“There’s not many things that can hurt a vamp,” she pointed out.
“Especially not Tane,” Darcy readily agreed. “He’s a Charon.”
Charon? Somehow Harley didn’t think he was a ferryman.
“Is that some sort of ubervamp?”
“I suppose you could call him that. They’re trained assassins who hunt down vampires who have gone rogue.”
“Yikes.”
“Yeah, my thought exactly.”
Harley sipped her hot chocolate, wondering what would induce a vampire to choose such a dangerous position. It certainly wouldn’t make him popular among the clans.
“It’s not much of a surprise he would vanish. He has to have a lot of enemies.”
“Actually, he wasn’t on the job, so to speak,” Darcy confessed. “He was with Salvatore when they discovered the presence of a jinn. He followed her trail while Salvatore continued his pursuit of Caine.”
“Oh.” Setting aside her mug, Harley rose to her feet, a scowl marring her brow. She’d forgotten that Caine’s demon had disappeared during his disastrous journey to Hannibal. Now she felt a pang of fear for the poor creature. “Why would he care about a jinn?”
Darcy tilted her head to the side, clearly puzzled by her sister’s concern.
“From what I understand, it’s the fact that she’s a half-breed that has everyone all wound up.”
Beyond the Darkness Page 30
