Chapter 23
Styx paced through the cavern that
looked as if it had been through World War III.
Piles of rubble littered the floor,
while huge cracks ran through the once-smooth walls and a choking
cloud of dust continued to fill the air.
Not that he bothered to notice his
surroundings.
His attention was firmly locked on the
handful of Sylvermysts who knelt beside a slab of stone that was
charred from the recent rip between dimensions.
When the evil fey had first charged out
of the caves, Styx had commanded his Ravens to stand aside. As much
pleasure as it might give him to drain a few of the rare creatures,
he had given his word to Ariyal.
But astonishingly, the bedraggled
fairies hadn’t bolted for safety as he’d been expecting. Instead
they had informed Styx that the mage was already in the caves, and
that Ariyal and Jaelyn had been determined to rescue Tearloch as
well as the babe.
They’d also insisted on returning to
the caverns after the massive explosion had revealed something bad
was happening below.
Styx had grudgingly given in to their
demands, only because he was incapable of detecting
magic.
There was every likelihood that he
would need their talent.
And if they hoped to lead him into a
trap ... well, there was still the option of draining
them.
His decision turned out to be a sound
one as they reached the lower cavern to discover it
empty.
It had been Elwin who’d discovered the
markings on the rock and had been able to sense that there had been
a temporary opening through the barrier to another
dimension.
He’d also offered the services of his
men to try and reach through the barrier to return Ariyal and
Jaelyn.
Not that they’d managed anything more
than a shimmer in the air that led to precisely
nowhere.
Pacing the floor, Styx’s mood took a
dip toward foul.
He didn’t like feeling
helpless.
Especially when the entire world was
hanging in the balance.
At last he gestured toward the
Sylvermyst with long amber hair and pewter eyes.
“Elwin.”
With a grimace of impatience the
Sylvermyst rose to his feet and moved to stand in front of
Styx.
“Yes?”
“How much longer?”
“It’s impossible to say.” The fey gave
a lift of his hands. “None of us have ever tried to use a portal to
reach through dimensions.”
Styx scowled. “Can it be
done?”
“We can only pray.”
Pray? That wasn’t what Styx wanted to
hear.
He was a vampire who expected results,
not vague promises.
And he didn’t give a damn whether or
not he was being fair.
“Not good enough.”
The Sylvermyst clenched his hands, his
eyes flashing with fury.
“No one wants to rescue our prince more
than I do.”
Styx folded his arms over his massive
chest. It was a gesture that he had discovered could make many
demons piss their pants on the spot.
“You’ll forgive me if I find that a
little hard to believe,” he drawled. “You did, after all, choose to
betray him.”
Clearly made of sterner stuff than most
fairies, Elwin met Styx’s condemning stare with a grim
expression.
“We were fools to have been swayed by
Tearloch’s promises, but I intend to devote the rest of my life to
earning Ariyal’s forgiveness.”
“Or to taking his place.”
Elwin hissed at the low words. “What
the hell does that mean?”
“Tell me, Elwin, who becomes prince if
Ariyal doesn’t return?” Styx asked, his gaze shifting to the
Sylvermysts who remained kneeling beside the stone, their hands
held toward the shimmer in the air as they chanted in low
tones.
Elwin’s anger tinted the air with a
warm scent of herbs, but it was no match for the brutal chill of
Styx’s power.
“You son of a bitch,” the Sylvermyst
muttered.
A low chuckle announced the arrival of
Salvatore, who managed to look GQ ready in
his black Armani suit and pale blue shirt with a yellow silk
tie.
Styx shook his head.
How did the damned dog manage to remain
pristine when climbing through the rubble? There wasn’t so much as
a speck of dirt on the handmade Italian leather shoes.
It was ... unnatural.
“Trouble in paradise?” the dog
mocked.
Styx shrugged, biting back his
sarcastic comment.
Behind Salvatore’s taunting smile was a
haunting memory of his near-death experience in the caves. He
understood the toll it was taking on the Were to help in the search
for the child, and of course, Jaelyn.
And while he might never admit his
gratitude (it just wasn’t done between natural enemies) it wouldn’t
be forgotten.
Instead he nodded toward the glowering
Elwin.
“Just trying to make certain that the
Sylvermysts are giving a hundred percent to the effort to reach
Jaelyn.”
“Vampires,” Elwin cursed.
Salvatore raised his hands. “Hey, you
have my full sympathy.”
The fey pointed a finger in Styx’s
face. “Don’t interrupt our efforts again.”
With his warning delivered, Elwin
turned on his heel and returned to kneel next to his brothers,
completely indifferent to the fact that Styx could rip off his head
with one hand.
“I miss the days when I could just kill
those people who pissed me off,” Styx snarled.
“Being king is a bitch, isn’t
it?”
Never had truer words been
spoken.
“What about you?” Styx turned his
attention from the fey. Even if they were doing everything possible
it was obvious their efforts weren’t going to pay off anytime soon.
He needed a plan B. “Any luck?”
“None.” The Were grimaced, his hand
smoothing over the dark hair that was pulled into a tail at his
nape. Styx hid a wry smile at the dog’s vanity. “I spoke with the
local coven and they denied knowing any spell that could open the
barrier between dimensions.”
“I don’t believe it,” he said bluntly.
“The wizard obviously used magic to take the child
through.”
Salvatore shrugged. “The wizard
practiced dark magic.”
“Then we need a magic-user who
practices the dark arts.”
“Easier said than done,” the Were
confessed. “They tend to remain hidden in the
shadows.”
Well, of course they did.
“Dammit.”
Salvatore regarded him with a
questioning expression. “What about Laylah?”
Styx arched a brow. “What about
her?”
“Jinn can travel between
worlds.”
“She’s a half Jinn,” he reminded his
companion. “Which means she can only shadow walk.”
“Shadow walk?”
“She can enter the mists between
dimensions.”
Not surprisingly Salvatore appeared
confused by his reluctance to call for the half Jinn. But while it
had been one of his first thoughts after discovering that Jaelyn
and the child were missing, he’d quickly dismissed it.
“It would be a start,” Salvatore
pointed out.
“I can’t expose her to the Dark Lord,”
he refused. “And more to the point, Tane would never allow her to
take such a risk.”
The Were snorted. “And she actually
listens to her mate? He’s a lucky vampire.”
“No, Laylah has a mind of her own, but
she has devoted years to protecting her child from the Dark Lord.”
He shook his head. “She can’t take the chance of being used to get
to Maluhia.”
Salvatore gave a grudging nod of
agreement at the mention of the child that had once been wrapped in
the same stasis spell with the missing baby. The twins had been
created by the Dark Lord centuries ago and hidden in the mists,
only to be found by Laylah.
It was bad enough to have lost one
child.
They couldn’t risk the
other.
“Then I guess we have to hope the
Sylvermysts can reach them.”
Styx’s fangs ached with the need to
sink them into Elwin’s throat, but he couldn’t deny the truth of
Salvatore’s words.
A rock and a hard place.
Dammit.
“Yes.”
Resuming his pacing, Styx was futilely
attempting to remind himself of the virtues of patience when he
detected the familiar scent of his brother, along with a less
familiar odor.
Mage.
With a new flare of hope, Styx turned
to watch as Dante strolled into the cavern.
The younger vampire’s resemblance to a
pirate was emphasized by the dark hair that was left free to frame
his lean, handsome face and the silver eyes that danced with humor.
Oh, and the wiggling prisoner he had slung over his
shoulder.
Crossing the cavern, the vampire tossed
the mage on the floor at Styx’s feet.
“Dante, so good of you to join us,” he
murmured.
“And I come bearing
gifts.”
“So I see.”
He lowered his gaze to watch Sergei
struggle to a kneeling position.
His lip curled. The mage looked
distinctly worse for the wear with his silver hair tangled and his
suit covered in a thick layer of dust.
“The weasel was trying to hide beneath
the rubble,” Dante revealed.
“Typical,” Styx said, his voice thick
with disgust. “A coward to the bitter end, eh, mage?”
“I wasn’t hiding,” the man ridiculously
protested. “I was knocked unconscious after my battle with the
wizard.”
“Yeah right,” Dante
scoffed.
The mage sniffed, trying to gather the
tattered remains of his pride.
“You can believe what you
want.”
“I don’t give a shit why you were
cowering beneath the rocks,” Styx snapped, glaring down at the lean
face that had lost a considerable amount of its arrogance. “All I
want to know is how long it will take you to open the
barrier.”
The mage blinked, as if Styx were
speaking a foreign language.
“I can’t.”
Salvatore shifted to stand at his side.
“He’s lying.”
The mage lifted pleading hands. “No,
I’m telling you that I don’t have the power.”
With one smooth movement Styx was
reaching down to wrap his fingers around Sergei’s throat and
jerking him upright. Holding him so they were eye to eye, Styx
ignored the mage’s feet that dangled off the ground and even his
struggle to breathe.
He wanted answers.
And he wanted them now.
“Everyone knows that you’ve been
preparing to resurrect the Dark Lord for centuries,” he growled.
“Obviously you have a spell that will reach through the
barrier.”
Grasping Styx’s wrist, Sergei turned an
interesting shade of purple.
“I’ll admit that I have prepared for
the ceremony,” he gasped.
“Then do it.”
The pale eyes flared with annoyance.
“First of all, I can’t just ‘do it.’”
Styx gave him a violent shake.
“Mage.”
“Wait,” the man pleaded. “I need an
altar and a sacrifice and ...”
“You’re starting to piss me off,” Styx
growled.
“Trust me, you don’t want him pissed
off, Sergei,” Salvatore informed the mage.
Sergei didn’t seem to need the warning
as he shivered in terror.
“I’m telling you the truth,” he
pleaded. “Such a massive spell takes a lot of time and effort to
perform.”
“Ah, he has performance anxiety,”
Salvatore mocked.
“It’s not that,” Sergei
denied.
Styx gave him another shake. Just
because he liked seeing the mage flop around like a bobblehead
doll.
“Then what is it?” he
demanded.
Sergei grimaced, clearly reluctant to
admit the truth. “I’m not really sure that it will
work.”
Styx’s fingers tightened in
frustration. Did the mage think he was stupid?
“Lying bastard.”
“No,” Sergei squeaked. “Please, you
must listen to me.”
Styx allowed his grip to lessen enough
that the idiot could explain.
“Speak quickly.”
“And as if your life depends on it,”
Salvatore added, his eyes glowing with a dangerous golden
light.
The King of Weres was always a threat.
But if he actually turned wolfy he would devour the mage in one
bite.
“When Marika approached me I was a hack
mystic in the Russian Court,” Sergei admitted.
Styx narrowed his gaze. He’d already
gotten the background information on Sergei when he threatened Tane
and Laylah.
“This is quickly?”
“She promised me eternal life and power
beyond my deepest fantasy if I would join with her.” He licked his
dusty lips. “All I had to do was discover a spell that would
resurrect the Dark Lord.”
“Marika wasn’t an easy mark,” Styx
said. He hadn’t personally known the female vampire, but from all
he’d heard she had been as cunning as she was ambitious. “She would
never have taken your word that you could satisfy her
needs.”
“No, I swiftly found a spell that
should work.” Sergei grimaced. “At least in theory.”
Styx ground his teeth. He already knew
he wasn’t going to like what the bastard had to say.
“But?”
“But I don’t know if I have the
necessary power to complete it,” the mage confessed in a
rush.
Styx fleetingly considered the pleasure
of simply throttling the worthless ass and leaving him for the
worms. Then sanity thankfully returned and he leashed his more
primitive urges.
With enough force to make the mage
grunt in pain, Styx returned him to his feet and released his hold
on his neck.
For now the mage was their best shot at
opening a rift in the dimensions.
God help them all.
“We’re about to find out,” he informed
the mage.
Sergei shook his head, his fingers
messaging his bruised neck.
“I told you, even if I wanted to do the
ceremony I need an altar, as well as a sacrifice, not to mention
days to prepare myself,” he complained. “It’s a very complicated
and dangerous spell.”
Styx gestured toward the silent vampire
standing behind the mage.
“Dante?”
Dante grinned. “With
pleasure.”
Sergei scowled as he watched the
younger vampire move to lift the massive slab of rock from the
center of the cavern and shift it directly before him.
“What are you doing?”
“Here’s your altar,” Dante said with an
evil smile.
“I can’t use that.”
“Make do,” Styx growled.
“But ...”
The mage forgot what he was about to
say as Dante grabbed him and, using a dagger, sliced a gaping wound
into his inner forearm.
Sergei screamed in pain as Dante yanked
him forward, holding his arm over the stone so the flow of blood
fell on the flat surface.
“And here’s your sacrifice,” Dante
announced.
“Are you insane?” Sergei shrilly
demanded, futilely attempting to break free of Dante’s grip. “I’m
going to bleed to death.”
Styx shrugged. “Then I suggest that you
work quickly.”
“I can’t.”
Styx had his sword out of its scabbard
and pointed at the mage’s throat in one graceful
motion.
“You have until the count of
ten.”
The mage made one last attempt to avoid
his inevitable fate.
“No. please.”
“One. Two. Three ...”