The woman paled, taking a hasty step backward. As if the shiny sword was more dangerous than his massive fangs, or his claws that could rip through steel.
“You should also know that the barrier we’ve formed will only last until the candles burn down,” she said in a trembling voice. “You won’t have more than an hour.”
“Magic,” he muttered.
Ignoring the females who scurried out of his way, Santiago forced his reluctant feet to carry him past the hedge and onto the narrow pathway. He refused to hesitate as he moved forward, climbing the steps to the wraparound porch and pulling open the heavy oak door.
If he was going to be skewered by some nasty spell, tiptoeing around wasn’t going to help.
Of course, it wasn’t until he had the door shut and he was standing inside the large living room with white plaster walls and open beamed ceiling that he managed to loosen his death grip on the sword.
He didn’t fear death in battle. But the thought of being struck down by some unnatural force was enough to give any vampire nightmares.
With a disgusted shake of his head, Santiago turned his attention to his surroundings.
He had no interest in the rustic furniture upholstered in blue-and-white-checked linen, or the hand-carved banister that led to the second floor. Instead he moved directly to the heavy rolltop desk to sort through the various drawers.
Most of the papers were indecipherable scratchings, reminding Santiago that Caine had been a notable chemist before his transformation. A fact that was reinforced by the leather-bound books that lined the towering bookshelves. Only a scientist could appreciate Stratospheric Sink for Chlorofluoromethane or Introduction to Quantum Mechanics.
Finding nothing that might hint at where he could find the missing Weres, and more importantly, discovering no sign of any intruders, Santiago made his way through the spotless kitchen and up the staircase. Although the scent of the couple was spread throughout the house, his senses were acute enough to pick out their last trail.
He cautiously moved down the hallway to a large bedroom with a heavy, walnut bed that had been carved by wood sprites and walls painted a soft shade of ivory. He halted in the center of the hardwood floor.
Here.
In this precise spot the two had disappeared.
Santiago crouched down to inspect the floor, searching for any indications of a struggle. His fingers had barely touched the wood when he felt a burst of frigid power and he was surging to his feet.
Vampire.
And close.
Spinning around with a low growl, he had his sword poised for a death blow, only to hesitate at the sight of the female framed in the doorway.
Dios.
She was ... magnificent.
Despite working in a vampire club that was renowned for offering the world’s most beautiful demons as entertainment, he was struck speechless.
She was tall and lithe, with dark hair that fell to her waist. Her face was a perfect, pale oval with eyes as dark as ebony and elegantly carved features. Her lips were full and tinted the color of cherries, and just looking at them made Santiago as hard as granite.
His bemused gaze skimmed lower, taking in the dark robes that draped over her full breasts and the ancient gold medallion that was hung around her neck. Farther down, the folds of the silk hinted at long legs and offered a glimpse of her dainty feet encased in silk slippers.
She should have looked matronly in the outfit, like a staid old professor.
Instead she looked ... hot as hell.
A damned shame there was a good chance he was going to have to kill her.
Seemingly unaware of the danger shimmering in the air, the female strolled forward, studying Santiago with an unreadable expression.
“They are not here.”
Her voice was low and throaty, flowing over Santiago with a startling power.
“Mierda,” he breathed, an unfamiliar unease trickling down his spine. “Who are you and how the hell did you get in here?”
She tilted her head to the side. “I presume you are here to find the seer?”
“I asked you a question,” he snapped.
She stiffened and Santiago smothered a curse as a crushing pressure surrounded him, warning him that he was right to be unnerved by her presence.
She had enough power to rival Styx.
Something he would have claimed impossible of any vampire only a few seconds ago.
“Take care, Santiago,” she purred.
He wisely shifted backward, lowering the sword that was all but useless against a vampire of her strength.
“How do you know my name?” he demanded.
There was a short pause, as if she was considering whether or not to answer his question. Then she gave a faint shrug.
“I am well acquainted with your sire.”
Santiago hissed. No one knew of his sire. It was something he refused to discuss with anyone.
Including Viper, who was his clan chief and closest friend.
“Impossible.” He glared at the vampire with a savage suspicion. “Gaius went beyond the Veil centuries ago.”
She offered a slow nod. “He is a most welcome member of our small clan. Indeed, he sits upon the Grand Council.”
Santiago took another step backward as realization slammed into him with painful force.
“You’re an Immortal One,” he rasped.
“I am.”
His gaze lowered to the medallion hung about her neck.
“Nefri.”
“Yes.”
Well, it all made a revolting sense now.
The female’s ability to make a sudden appearance. Her outrageous power. Her knowledge of his sire. Her formal pattern of speech.
Immortal Ones were vampires who had left the world centuries ago to create a clan within another dimension where they were allowed to exist without the primitive passions that plagued this world.
No hunger, no thirst, no lust.
Just endless days of tedious peace they devoted to studying in their vast libraries and meditating in their supposedly endless gardens.
Most of the bastards had the mistaken idea they were somehow superior to their more “barbaric” brothers.
And this woman was one of them.
No, not just one.
The one.
The big kahuna. The CEO and founding member.
It was Nefri’s medallion that allowed her to travel through the Veil. And it was her powers that kept her people safe from those demons who attempted to break through the misty barrier that surrounded their world.
Ironically most vampires would be fascinated to meet one of the Immortals.
They were a source of myth and mystery and only a rare few vampires could ever claim to having encountered one. Like freaking leprechauns, Santiago acknowledged with a wry smile.
He, on the other hand, had barely been out of his foundling years when his sire had grimly informed him that he could not bear this world after the loss of his mate and was leaving to join those beyond the Veil.
The memory of his rejection was like a raw wound that had never fully healed for Santiago.
“I thought your ... clan had turned their backs on the mortal world,” he accused between clenched teeth. “What are you doing here?”
“The disruptions that are thinning the barriers between dimensions are affecting us as well.”
“Ah.” He regarded her with an acid gaze, even as his body continued to react as if it had never seen a woman before. Madre Dios. If he didn’t leash his instincts he’d have her tumbled on the nearby bed and showing her just what she’d been missing all those long, lonely years. Maybe she would even discover a new appreciation for a mere barbarian. Or maybe she would rip out your heart and feed it to the wolves, a voice whispered in the back of his mind. For some reason the thought only intensified his smoldering anger. “So you were willing to remain in your little slice of paradise while the rest of us went to hell, but now that you’re bein
g threatened you’re ready to take notice of the danger?”
Her dark gaze held a piercing intelligence that warned she could see far more than he wanted to share.
“So bitter,” she murmured softly. “You cared very deeply for Gaius.”
He squared his shoulders, refusing to allow the memory of his sire to rise to mind.
“I care about the family who didn’t abandon me,” he growled, “which is why I would do anything to protect them.”
“I am here to offer assistance, not harm.”
“Easy enough to claim.”
“True,” she readily agreed. “What will it take to convince you?”
Oh, he could think of several possibilities.
Erotic images flashed through his mind, most of them focused on having those cherry lips wrapped around a specific body part.
With a growl he was crushing the dangerous thoughts. How often had he used his own potent sexual attraction to defeat his enemies?
He wasn’t going to be led around by his cock.
“It’s no coincidence you are in this precise spot at this precise moment,” he accused.
With an elegant motion Nefri moved toward the window overlooking the backyard, her hair rippling like liquid ebony in the moonlight.
“No, it is no coincidence,” she admitted. “Like you I am searching for the prophet.”
Santiago curled his fingers, ignoring the itch to run them through those satin strands of hair.
“Why?”
She turned back to meet his wary gaze. “It was our hope to protect her from the Dark Lord by taking her beyond the Veil.” She waved a hand toward the empty room. “I fear we were too late.”
Yeah. He knew the feeling.
“How did you even know of Cassandra?”
A Mona Lisa smile curved her lips. “We are not utterly isolated.”
“So you’ve been spying on us?”
“There are those who travel between worlds,” she said without apology. “And when it became known that there were rumors of a seer I began to investigate. She is ...”
He frowned as she hesitated. “What?”
Nefri reached into the pocket of her robes to pull out a thin book no larger than the palm of her hand.
“She is vital to the future of all our worlds.”
He studied the book, sensing its age. “What is that?” She stroked loving fingers over the battered red cover. “A book of prophecies that I took beyond the Veil when the Dark Lord began to destroy them.”
His brows lifted. Books of prophecies were as rare as actual prophets.
“And?”
“Most of them are gibberish, I fear.”
Santiago snorted. “Typical.”
“But, there is one that speaks of the birth of the Alpha and the Omega.”
The Alpha and the Omega ...
Santiago stiffened. They were the same words spoken by the Sylvermyst who warned that the child Laylah had protected for so long was destined to return the Dark Lord to this world.
It couldn’t be a coincidence.
“What does it say?” he rasped.
“It warns that the ‘harbinger of truth’ must not be silenced,” she said without hesitation.
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
He clenched his teeth. Why the hell couldn’t prophets just spit out the future in words a person could understand?
“Still gibberish.”
“No.” Nefri shook her head. “A warning that I intend to heed.”
She lifted her hand to grasp the medallion around her neck. The gold metal inscribed with some ancient hieroglyphs began to glow, filling the room with a strange heat.
Santiago instinctively lifted his sword. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I am going to search for the female.”
Despite his hatred toward the Immortals, and the very real possibility she might fry him if he tried to interfere in her dramatic departure, Santiago stepped forward, grasping the woman’s arm.
“Not without me, you’re not.”
She went rigid beneath the firm grip of his hand, her dark gaze studying his fierce expression.
“I had forgotten,” she whispered.
His fangs throbbed at the exotic scent of jasmine and pure female.
“Forgotten what?”
“How aggressive males tend to be in this world.”
He leaned forward, allowing their lips to brush as he spoke his low warning.
“Querida, you haven’t seen aggressive yet.”
Chapter 5
Jaelyn perched on the steeply slanted roof, her eyes narrowed as Ariyal easily tugged open the unlocked skylight.
She shook her head, her unease intensifying as she shifted to crouch beside the Sylvermyst.
“It must be a trap.”
“No one ever thinks an attack will be coming from above. Especially vampires.” Ariyal shot her a taunting smile. “Not surprising considering the fact they spend the majority of their lives in the dank ground.”
Jaelyn clenched her hands, silently condemning Siljar and the rest of the Oracles to the nearest hell.
It had been bad enough to be stuck with the unpleasant duty of tracking down Ariyal and hauling him to the Commission. But now ...
She was a Hunter, not a babysitter for an aggravating, pain-in-the-ass Sylvermyst.
“We aren’t dealing with a vampire,” she said between clenched teeth.
He shrugged. “No, but this lair was built for one and Sergei spent most of his life in the company of a leech.”
She allowed her frigid power to swirl through the air. “You’re pressing your luck, fairy.”
He flashed a wicked smile before he was shifting to drop through the skylight with a liquid grace. He landed without a sound and tilted back his head to meet her jaundiced gaze.
“Are you coming?” he softly demanded.
“As if I have a choice,” she muttered beneath her breath, refusing to acknowledge his astonishing beauty as a stray beam of moonlight played over his pale, perfect features and the fascinating shimmer of his bronze eyes. Instead she pushed forward and landed next to the fey in the narrow hallway, her senses sweeping through the townhouse. “The mage is below us.”
“Yes.” He paused, turning his head toward a closed door just down the hall that was paneled in a dark, glossy wood with gilt-framed paintings gathering dust. “But there’s a spell of protection through there.”
She frowned. “The babe?”
“Only one way to find out.”
“Don’t forget your promise,” she warned, muttering a curse as he ignored her to shove open the door and disappear into the room beyond. She was swiftly following behind him, stepping into the obvious nursery to find the annoying man standing near a wooden cradle. “Ariyal, did you hear me?”
“Perhaps you should let me concentrate, poppet,” he commanded, his gaze focused on the crib, where she could see a tiny bundle she presumed was the child. “We’re surrounded by a spell.”
She froze, glaring at her companion in smoldering frustration.
Dammit. She hated taking orders almost as much as she hated magic.
A double reason to feel the urge to rip off someone’s head.
“I told you this was a trap,” she hissed.
“It’s not a trap.” He held up his slender hands, waving them above the crib as if trying to sense some unseen force field. “There’s a magical web to protect the child.”
“Can you get rid of it?”
His brow furrowed as he concentrated on the magic he could apparently sense beneath his hands.
“Yes, but not without alerting the mage.”
“Too late,” a voice drawled from the doorway.
Jaelyn whirled around, prepared to pounce as she caught sight of a man standing in the doorway wearing nothing more than a burgundy robe with his silver hair hanging about his thin face.
Vaguely she recognized him as Sergei, the mage from the Russian
caves, although his gaunt, unshaven face and his shadowed eyes suggested the past weeks hadn’t treated him kindly. Still, whatever his troubles, his magic was obviously working just fine as he managed to cloak his scent and approach them without warning.
He flinched at the flash of her fangs, his hand shaking as he held up a small glass vial filled with an amber liquid.
“Stay back, vamp,” Sergei warned. “I spent several centuries concocting the perfect spell to kill a vampire as slowly and painfully as possible.”
“Do you think you can cast it before I put an arrow through your heart?” Ariyal stepped beside her, stretching out his arm to clench and unclench his fingers. There was a shimmer in the air and suddenly an ash bow complete with a wooden arrow was in his hand. With a smooth motion he had it cocked and ready to fire.
Jaelyn grimaced. She might fully approve of the mage becoming a human pincushion, but the knowledge that Ariyal could make the bow and arrows appear from thin air creeped her out.
She had a definite allergy to wooden arrows.
Sergei paled, no doubt recalling his one-time ally had an itchy trigger finger.
“Relax, Ariyal,” the mage attempted to soothe. “There’s no need for any of us to be hasty.”
Ariyal remained poised for battle. “Put away the vial.”
“You’re the trespasser.” Sergei nervously licked his lips. “You put away your weapon.”
Jaelyn shifted. The two clearly had issues that had nothing to do with her and she had no intention of getting caught in the cross fire.
Not when the damned mage had a spell specifically designed to harm a vampire.
“A stalemate,” Ariyal mocked.
Sergei took a cautious step forward, his gaze darting toward the crib.
“If you’ve come for the child then you’re wasting your time,” he said. “You’ll die if you touch him.”
Ariyal made a sound of disgust. “You think that I can’t break through your magic?”
Sergei made a visible effort to gather his shaken courage. “I don’t doubt that you could shatter the protective shields around the cradle, but the spell I’ve placed on the child is specifically cast to harm those with fey blood.” He gave a tilt of his chin, covertly shifting another step into the room. “It was the only way to keep your friend Tearloch from taking off with my prize.”
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