Darkness Avenged

“Yes.”


He took a step forward, his hands still clenched. “Which means?”

“That I should be able to peel back the layers of magic like an onion.”

“Should be able to?”

She turned to meet his smoldering glare. “What do you want me to say? I’ve never tried to break through sorcery before.” She gave a restless lift of her shoulder. “To be honest, I didn’t even believe it truly existed.” Sally then proceeded to tell Roke and Styx the rest of what had occurred in the warehouse before they had broken in as Santiago had asked her to.

“God almighty,” he growled, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth threatened to shatter. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Without warning her expression hardened, her hands landing on her hips. “No. That’s one thing I won’t be,” she informed him. “I need everyone to leave before I start—”

He was standing in front of her, wrapping his fingers around her upper arms in an unbreakable grip before she could even blink.

“Forget it.”

“Don’t be so stubborn, Roke,” she muttered, pretending she wasn’t unnerved by his inhuman speed. “If the book could hurt the spirit, then there’s a good chance it can hurt all vampires.”

“Santiago looked unharmed before he disappeared,” he reminded her. Not that he would have left even if Santiago had matched his decomposing companion.

At least not without this female.

Her lips thinned in annoyance. “I can’t concentrate with you breathing down my neck.”

“I don’t breathe.”

“But—”

“No.”

“You might as well give it up,” Styx drawled as he moved to stand beside them. “I recognize that expression. You’d have better luck arguing with that brick wall.”

Her lips parted to continue the quarrel, then catching the determination etched onto Roke’s face, she heaved a resigned sigh. “Fine,” she grudgingly conceded. “But don’t bitch at me when things go to hell.”

His hand lifted to tuck her hair behind her ear, his touch gentle. “Then we’ll go there together.”





Beyond the Veil



Nefri had never been truly defenseless.

She’d been used, abused, vulnerable, and on occasion, so out of control she’d become no less lethal than a nuclear bomb.

But she’d always had her powers. Which meant she’d never truly known the terror of being at the absolute mercy of another creature.

Now she blinked as she glanced around the empty marble building with fluted columns, and a domed roof that was painted to resemble the blue skies no vampire had ever seen. Below her feet was a delicate mosaic and in the center of the building was a fountain that was surrounded by marble nymphs dancing in the spray of water.

It was a place of meditation, which meant that no one would enter once they sensed her presence. Thank the gods. But she couldn’t hope that the spirit who had taken command of her body would be content to remain secluded.

Already she could feel her emotions being agitated by the creature, although she sensed he was still weakened. She had to get away from her people.

Or, if worst came to worst, she would have to end her life.

A small price to pay for the salvation of her clan.

Right. All very noble and completely worthless, she dryly concluded, as long as the spirit was in control of her body.

For the moment her only hope was that she could find a way to regain command. Or that Santiago would be able . . .

No.

The last thing she wanted was Santiago to be in danger.

If she tried to reach out for help it would be the Oracles. They were, after all, the ones who’d started this whole mess.

Trying to clear her mind enough to reach out mentally to Siljar, she was abruptly distracted as a vampire stepped in the room.

He was a short, bullishly built male with a bluntly carved face and silver hair that was pulled into a tight queue at his neck. Oddly, he was dressed in a velvet tunic and leggings that had been the fashion centuries ago, with a heavy war hammer clenched in one hand.

Holy hell.

She would have stumbled backward in shock if she’d been in control of her legs. As it was, she was forced to stand in frozen horror as her former master strolled to a halt directly before her.

“Ah, my blessed daughter.” Theo’s voice rumbled through the thick silence, his pale brown eyes shimmering with the same insatiable greed she remembered with acute revulsion. “At long last.”

“No,” she hissed. “You’re not real.”

He sneered with pleasure at her swelling fear. “Did you miss me, my beautiful Amazon?”

Miss him?

She’d put him in his grave.

How else was she ever to halt the devastation he was forcing her to wreak on innocents?

So many killings . . .

“You’re dead,” she managed to grit.