The merman instinctively grabbed the hilt of his trident strapped around his waist.
“Is that all?”
“How did you know that Brigette wasn’t in her cell?”
Jord paused, clearly caught off guard by the question. “Excuse me?”
“You ran into the throne room announcing that the prisoner had escaped,” Troy clarified. “How did you know?”
“It was time for me to go on duty.” Jord tapped his foot, as if to emphasize his impatience. “When I went down to the dungeons, I discovered the two outer guards were unconscious.”
“Then what?”
“I unlocked the door to the inner dungeon and found Riza on the floor.”
“He was unconscious?”
“Yes.”
Troy tried to imagine what’d happened. Had the attacker come from inside the dungeon? Or from outside? At last he shook his head.
“Who could overpower three armed guards?”
“It must have been some sort of spell.” The explanation was smooth. Too smooth. As if it’d been rehearsed.
Troy held the guard’s gaze, allowing him to see the ruthless hunter beneath his frivolous exterior.
“I thought it was impossible to use magic in the dungeon?”
Something that might have been irritation flared through the male’s blue eyes. Obviously, he assumed that Troy would be oblivious to the dampening spell that protected the lower floors of the castle.
“I only know they were knocked out,” he muttered.
Troy studied the guard. Either he had an appalling attention to detail for a trained warrior, or he was hiding something.
“What happened next?”
“I found the cell door open and the prisoner was gone.”
Troy mentally retraced the guard’s supposed footsteps. Jord was preparing to go on duty, so he bebops down the stairs and enters the dungeons. The first things he sees are the two guards lying on the floor. He opens the inner door and finds Riza unconscious and the cell empty. Then he supposedly dashes out of the dungeons and travels across the entire castle to make his dramatic appearance in the throne room.
“Why did you leave?” he abruptly demanded.
Jord frowned. “Leave where?”
“The dungeons.”
“I thought the queen should be told what had happened.”
Troy sent him a skeptical frown. “You don’t have an alarm system that you could use to alert Rimm and the other guards that there’d been a prison break?”
The male hesitated. He wanted to lie. Troy could see it hovering on his lips. Then, perhaps afraid that Troy might be familiar enough with the security system to know whether there was an alarm or not, he grudgingly nodded.
“Yes.”
“But you decided not to use it?” Troy pressed.
“I suppose I panicked.”
“A trained guard panicked because a prisoner escaped?” Troy tapped his chin with the tip of his finger, as if considering the possibility. “That seems unlikely.”
A dark, dangerous emotion crawled over the male’s narrow face. A poisonous shadow.
“I don’t have to answer your questions.”
Troy slowly smiled. “You just did.”
Chapter 9
Levet perched on a narrow ledge that protruded from the stone wall.
They were still in the sewers, but they at least had found one that was dry. It was still stinky, and there was a nasty layer of moss on the floor, but it was the least awful option to stop and rest.
Directly below him, Brigette had curled into a ball on the ground, like a tired puppy. She’d been asleep for hours, snoring loud enough to wake the dead. And even the undead.
Obviously breaking out of the mer-folk dungeons and being whisked through a portal was exhausting business for a Were. He, on the other hand, had merely dozed. Now he leaned forward, studying the female.
She’d changed since the first day she’d been captured by Ulric and Rainn. Oh, and Chaaya. Not her looks. She was still a beautiful beast with flame-red hair and pale, perfect features. But the arrogance had been stripped away, along with the smoldering anger that had burned in her eyes.
Now she was…not vulnerable. At least, not exactly. But anxious. Oui. That was the word. As if she was struggling toward some destiny that remained just out of reach.
He leaned forward, sucking in a deep breath. At the same time, Brigette’s eyes snapped open and she glared at him in suspicion.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Levet sucked in another deep breath. “I smell Were, but no wolf,” he said. “What happened to your animal?”
With a muttered curse, Brigette shoved herself to her feet and tossed back her long hair.
“None of your damned business.”
The air crackled with heat, but there was no hint of the wolf. “Did Zella kill it?” he asked, worry tugging at his heart.
A Were without their animal was like a gargoyle without his wings.
“No.” Her jaw tightened until Levet could hear her teeth grinding together. “It’s hibernating.”
Levet furrowed his brow. There had been a time when the Weres had struggled against a wicked spirit who was draining the strength of their animals, but he hadn’t known they could go into hibernation.
“Because it was wounded?” he guessed.
She glanced away. “Not physically.”
“Ah.” Levet bobbed his head up and down. Now he understood. “Her soul was injured.”
Brigette wrapped her arms around her waist in an unconsciously defensive gesture.
“Stop staring at me,” she groused. “It’s creepy.”
Levet didn’t look away. He’d noticed a flicker of power dancing around her. Not the black evil that had pulsed around Zella, but a softer, more pervasive sort of energy.
“I see something else.”
“There’s nothing else,” she snapped, brushing the dirt from her clothes. “And I’m starving. I need to find some breakfast.”
Mmm. Breakfast. It was Levet’s favorite meal. Well, every meal was Levet’s favorite meal, but breakfast was extra special. Eggs, pancakes, a roasted pig or two.
His stomach rumbled.
“I am starving as well,” he murmured with a dreamy sigh. Then with an effort he shook his head, dismissing the image of pancakes. “Hey, you will not distract me with my tummy. I see an aura around you, but no darkness.”
“I don’t know what you’re babbling about.”
Levet leaped off the small ledge to land at her feet. “It was not Zella who released you from the dungeon. It was…”
Brigette stiffened, gazing down at him with an unexpected intensity. “It was what?”
Levet tilted his head to the side. Aha. He knew there was something khaki about this entire situation. No wait…wacky. Oui, wacky.
He pointed a finger at her. “You do not know, do you?”
She hunched her shoulders. “Tell me.”
“First I wish you to explain how you escaped.”
There was a long silence. Distantly, Levet was aware of the footsteps hitting the cobblestone streets above them, and even farther away the trickle of brackish water as it dribbled through one sewer to another. A reminder that the sensation they were alone in the world was just an illusion.
At last, Brigette cleared her throat. “A few days…” She stopped, as if considering her words. “Maybe it was weeks, I can’t seem to keep track of time anymore. It doesn’t matter.” She shook away her confusion. “I heard a voice whispering in my mind.”
Levet was instantly fascinated. And at the same time, thoroughly annoyed. Why was everyone else always hearing voices? No one ever attempted to lure him into a delightful adventure. Which was quite unfair considering he was a most excellent adventurer.
“What did it say?”
“It promised me freedom,” she said with simple honesty.
Of course it did, Levet silently acknowledged. What better way to negotiate with a prisoner?
“You did not find it odd a strange voice was whispering in your mind?”
She shrugged. “At first I assumed it was Zella, but I eventually realized there was something different about it.”
“Different, how?”
“It coaxed rather than demanded. Zella hammered until she got what she wanted,” Brigette said. “And it didn’t offer me power or riches. It promised me…”
Levet waited for her to finish. “What?” he finally prompted. You couldn’t just leave a gargoyle hanging. It was rude.
“Freedom.”
“And what else?”
She glanced away. “Nothing.”
Levet clicked his tongue. “That cannot be true.”
“You don’t know anything about me or what I was promised.”
“I know that you already have your freedom,” Levet told her. “So why are you so desperate to find your mystery voice?”
She stepped back as if his words had struck a physical blow. “Shut up, you ugly lump of concrete.”
Levet sniffed at her sharp tone. “No need to be testy. And I am not concrete.”
Her jaw clenched, then with an obvious effort she regained command of her fiery temper.
“You said you smelled something,” she said between clenched teeth. “What is it?”
Levet shrugged. “Druid.”
* * * *
Basq had surprisingly managed to sleep in the cool darkness of the cellar. Perhaps it was the certainty that he was going to need his strength later, or more likely, the fact that while they’d been napping, he’d pulled Chaaya’s slender body into his arms with her head resting against the center of his chest. The sensation of having her nestled against him was intensely satisfying. As if she was filling a restless void he hadn’t even realized was gnawing at him.
Still, he wasn’t stupid.
He knew Chaaya would be furious if she woke to find herself snuggled against him. Not because she didn’t want him. He could catch the scent of her desire whenever they were near each other. But she was determined to pretend that he was nothing more than an undead lump of boredom. Basq grimaced. All right, maybe she didn’t have to pretend. He could be a lump of undead boredom, but that didn’t keep her from wanting him.
Careful not to wake his companion, he arranged her on the floor with the tablecloth pulled over her slender form. Unlike most humans, her body temperature never changed, but it made him feel better to know she was covered.
Moving soundlessly out of the cellar, Basq paused to glance around the building above them. Empty. He quickly exited through the broken window and headed up the narrow lane. There was a grayish light filtering from the sky, but he wasn’t worried about daylight arriving to ruin his complexion. Bullas were created by magic. There was no true sun to turn him to ash. Yet another reason he’d often chosen to hide in them.
The streets were thankfully empty of the drunken crowd that had spilled from the bar after the fight, although there were a handful of demons who were busy cleaning the front windows of their various businesses or wandering the street in search of entertainment. Basq remained in the shadows of an alleyway as he watched the ebb and flow of traffic. There was one male imp who leaned against the pole of a streetlamp, his expression bored.
A gopher.
It was a name used by creatures who were willing to barter and sell anything in the bulla.
Like human pawn dealers, only with fewer morals and the ability to use magic.
Just what Basq needed.
Stepping out of the shadows, Basq crossed to stand directly in front of the fey creature.
He was tall and slender, with reddish gold hair that hung in a long braid down his back and a thin face with bright green eyes. He was wearing a long gray robe that could no doubt change colors to allow him to blend into any background. Like a chameleon.
At Basq’s approach the imp straightened, his nose twitching as he sensed a customer.
“Master Vampire.” The creature offered a deep bow. “How may I serve you today?”
Basq got right to the point. The sooner he finished his business, the sooner he could return to Chaaya.
“First I need blood.”
“But of course.” The male lifted a slender hand as if about to wave toward a hidden covey of females. “Imp? Fairy? Something more exotic?”
Basq released a trickle of his power. Just enough to make the white in his eyes shimmer and the air thicken with warning.
“I want it in a bottle, and I have the ability to detect if it’s been diluted or tainted in any way.” An imp possessed the power to enchant objects including blood so that the buyer became addicted. They would be forced to return to this particular seller over and over to get their magical fix. “The price of trying to cheat me is a slow, painful death.”
The green eyes widened with faux outrage. “Why, master. You wound me.”
“Not yet.” Basq tapped his elongated fang with the tip of his tongue. “But it’s a distinct possibility if you try to screw with me. Got it?”
The male’s amiable charm faded. It was replaced by a shrewd, ruthless entrepreneur.
“Fine, but it’s going to cost you.”
“I’m not done.”
“What else?”
“Human food.” Basq rummaged through his memories of watching Chaaya consume her meals with unabashed gusto. He didn’t know if she needed it for substance, but she loved to eat. “Preferably a chicken pot pie,” he finally said, recalling she was always stealing them from the kitchen despite the fuming protest from the chef. “And a dessert,” he added, well aware she had a sweet tooth. His eyes narrowed. “As a reminder, I will know if it’s tainted.”
The imp arched his brows, surveying Basq from head to toe as if trying to determine his worth.
“You ask a great deal.”
“I’m not done,” Basq told him.
“What else?”
“I’m looking for a Were.”
The imp looked confused. “There’s no Weres in this place. Not at the moment.”
“She just arrived along with a tiny gargoyle.”
The male’s eyes lit up at the mention of Levet. Obviously he’d heard rumors about the aggravating creature. Then, mentally sifting through the various ways he could make the most money off the information, he offered Basq a cagey smile.
“Really?” he drawled. “It sounds like a peculiar pair.”
Basq grimaced. “You have no idea.”
“Why are you searching for them?” The creature kept his tone offhand, as if he was only mildly interested in the answer. “Is there a bounty on their heads?”
Basq had his answer ready. He knew that as soon as he revealed his interest in the two, there would be a stampede to find them. There were always demons eager to make easy money. Which might not be a bad thing if it didn’t spook Brigette into fleeing. He had to make sure that no one was willing to go near the Were and gargoyle until he had a chance to get his hands on them.
“The Were is carrying the plague,” he stated in grim tones.
As expected, the imp pulled back in horror. Even demons could die during an outbreak.
“Plague?”
Basq nodded. “An extremely virulent strain that has wiped out more than one bulla. I’m trying to contain her before she can spread the disease any further. I could use some help if you’re interested.”
“Certainly not.” The imp shivered from head to toe. “You should warn the chieftain.”
Basq leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. “I prefer not to cause a panic. If I can locate her quickly, I have the ability to wrap her
in a stasis and remove her without a fuss.”
The imp looked dubious. “If you say so.”
“Do you know where I might find them?”
The imp flattened his lips, clearly disappointed there wasn’t going to be a huge reward. At least not one that was large enough to make him risk the plague. Still, he was a businessman. He wasn’t going to release any information without squeezing some value out of the deal.
“As I said, it will cost you.” Basq reached into his pocket to remove the few gold coins he had left, but the imp shook his head. “Not money. That.” Without warning the male pointed to the golden amulet beaten into the shape of an eagle that hung around Basq’s neck.
Instinctively Basq lifted his hand to cover the talisman. He’d worn it for centuries, keeping it as a reminder of a time when he’d held on to the hope of a better future.
“This has no value,” he protested.
The imp leaned closer, studying the intricate design. “It was crafted by the Visigoths and charmed by a human witch.”
Basq couldn’t sense the power that had been beaten into the metal, but he’d known it was there.
“It’s useless to demons,” he told the male.
The imp shrugged. “I collect magic.”
Basq hesitated; then, reaching up, he grabbed the amulet and tugged it off the gold chain.
“The blood, the food, the information,” he commanded, holding out the last connection to his old life.
Chapter 10
Chaaya woke at the sound of footsteps heading down the stairs. With a blur of motion she was on her feet, the spear clutched in her hand. It wasn’t until she caught the cool, fiercely male scent that she realized that Basq wasn’t in the cellar with her.
He’d somehow managed to sneak out while she was sleeping.
Well, that was embarrassing. She prided herself on her warrior skills, but she’d been dead to the world when Basq slipped away.
Heat stained her cheeks as he entered the cellar and crossed toward her.
“Where have you been?” she demanded, her voice sharp.
He held up a small basket. “Bartering for supplies.”
The scent of something delicious wafted through the air, and Chaaya forgot her annoyance as her stomach rumbled in encouragement.
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