There one step and gone the next.
He tilted back his head to roar with a savage frustration, indifferent to the scamper of terrified wildlife that darted into the nearby woods.
The sound was still echoing through the trees when Jagr and two of his Ravens appeared from around the corner of the high fence.
“Where is he?” Roke demanded.
Looking every inch the Visigoth chief, Jagr clutched a sword in one hand and a pistol in the other. Not that either was as dangerous as the lethal fangs that were primed for maximum damage.
“I don’t know.” The ice blue gaze continued to scan the woods that provided privacy for Styx’s lair from his distant neighbors. “I caught a glimpse of him going through the back gate, but before I could get here he’d disappeared.”
“Sally?” he managed to rasp between clenched teeth.
Jagr dipped his head. “The witch was with him.”
Styx stepped through the gate, studying the tracks that halted directly in front of them. “Gaius must have used his medallion,” he said before turning his attention to Roke. “Can you sense Sally?”
Struggling against his primitive instincts that rebelled at wasting even a second, Roke forced himself to close his eyes and concentrate on his mating bond. It was there. Oddly . . . muffled. As if something was trying to mask her presence from him. But there was no mistaking his sense of her just a few miles north of them.
“It’s muted, but she’s not far,” he said, opening his eyes to watch Jagr and Styx exchange a startled glance.
“Is the medallion limited in how far it can carry more than one person?” the large Visigoth asked.
Styx shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Then why—” Jagr bit off his words as there was an unmistakable shift in the air pressure before the scent of granite filled the air. “Shit.”
The male vampires turned, their expressions varying from resignation to outright disgust as Levet seemed to step from thin air, closely followed by Yannah.
Either unaware, or just indifferent, to his frigid reception, the tiny gargoyle gave a violent flutter of his wings, his tail standing at stiff attention.
“Mon dieu”, he breathed, clearly frazzled. “I hate traveling that way.”
With a superior smile that all females perfected before leaving the cradle, Yannah smoothed the sleeve of her long white robe. “Don’t be such a baby.”
“A baby?” Levet puffed out his chest, looking more like a bantam chicken than a fearsome gargoyle. “Why I—”
“Levet, is there a purpose for your unexpected visit?” Styx said as he sternly broke into the brewing squabble.
Levet immediately forgot his grievances and waddled toward the King of Vampires, his expression troubled. “Nefri.”
There was a collective mutter of unease as Styx glared down at the gargoyle.
The mystique of Nefri was great enough that the mere thought that she was anything less than impervious to danger was . . . troublesome.
“What about her?” Styx demanded.
“When Gaius kidnapped Tonya she knew that Gaius was plotting to use Santiago.”
Styx grimaced. “And she was right?”
“Oui.” Levet hunched his shoulders, his ugly features scrunched in distress. “We traveled to Gaius’s lair and Nefri asked me to stay hidden so I would know what was occurring. She wanted to make sure I could go for help in the event that things went . . .” He waved his hands as words failed him.
“To hell?” Styx offered.
The gargoyle nodded. “To hell.”
Clever of Nefri to make certain they could be warned, Roke silently acknowledged, but his shattering need to return to his hunt for Sally made him growl deep in his throat. Only the thought that the gargoyle might have some necessary clue to his mate’s rescue kept him from charging through the darkness alone.
As if sensing his burning frustration, Styx reached to place a hand on his shoulder even as his gaze remained trained on the tiny demon. “What does Gaius want with Santiago?”
Levet wrinkled his snout. “He pretended he desired a reconciliation, but all he truly desired was for Santiago to sneak into your lair for the witch.”
“Sally?” Roke stepped forward, his fierce intensity making Levet take a hasty step backward and Yannah move to the gargoyle’s side as if to offer her protection. “Why?”
“She’s the only one who can destroy some spell around a book,” he hurriedly admitted, his hands rising in a gesture of peace. “I do not know any more, I swear.”
“Do you think it could be the same book?” Styx muttered in astonishment.
Roke wasn’t listening.
He didn’t believe in coincidences.
Which meant he knew exactly where to find his missing witch.
The warehouse.
The warehouse north of Chicago
Over the years Sally had devoted a ridiculous amount of energy to avoiding a gruesome death.