“I don’t understand,” she said.
Siljar paced to the ceramic pitcher set on a flat slab of rock. Pouring herself a glass of some golden liquid that smelled remarkably like Hennessy, she tossed it back like a seasoned drunk.
“It is suspected that Gaius came through the rift with the Dark Lord.”
“I heard rumors that he’d been seen during the battle, but no one could say with any certainty what happened to him,” Nefri said. “I assumed he was killed.”
“No, he was recently seen in the lair he used during his stay in this world.”
Nefri’s lips tightened. No one blamed her for Gaius’s betrayal. Well, no one but the aggravating Santiago. He, of course, assumed she was to blame for every evil in the world. The annoying ass.
But she couldn’t help but regret the fact that she hadn’t suspected there was more to Gaius’s desire to become a part of her clan beyond his pretense of grieving for his dead mate.
“Do you believe he intends to cause trouble?” she asked.
“Not the vampire.”
Nefri blinked. “Is this a puzzle?”
“A puzzle with too many pieces.”
By all the gods, why couldn’t Oracles just say what they wanted without all the mumbo jumbo?
“Why are you troubled by Gaius?” Her tone was carefully bland. “Without the power of the Dark Lord he should be easy enough to defeat.”
“Because of this.” Setting her empty glass on the flat stone, Siljar picked up a folded newspaper and handed it to Nefri.
She read the top of the front page. A small town newspaper from Louisiana? She continued to skim down to the lead headline.
“‘An outbreak of violence in southern Louisiana’?” she quoted out loud before lifting her head to meet Siljar’s piercing scrutiny. “I assume this is somehow relevant?”
“That is where Gaius is hidden.”
Nefri remained confused. “You think he’s responsible for the violence?”
“I am not entirely certain.” There was a long pause, as if Siljar was holding a silent debate with herself. Then the tiny demon squared her shoulders. “This must stay between us.”
Oh, those words were never good. Even worse, Siljar waved a hand to put up an invisible barrier so her words couldn’t be overheard despite the fact they were sitting in the most highly secure spot in the entire universe.
“As you wish.”
“I have sensed the presence of an old enemy,” Siljar confessed, her expression troubled. “It is very faint, but I . . . fear.”
“An old enemy?”
“The one the Veil was created to keep from this world.”
Nefri rose to her feet before she even knew she was moving. “But how is that possible?” she demanded in shock.
“It is my suspicion that when the Dark Lord was destroyed it left Gaius stripped bare of all his defenses. He was dangerously vulnerable.”
“Did he attempt to travel beyond the Veil?”
“No, but he still possesses the medallion.”
It’d been an unpleasant shock to everyone when it was discovered that Gaius had a medallion similar to her own. And that he’d intended to use it to break the Dark Lord out of his prison.
“Forgive me, but I still don’t understand.”
Siljar lowered her gaze to the heavy gold medallion that hung around Nefri’s neck. Scrolled with ancient spells, the medallion shimmered with a glow that had nothing to do with the torches set in the corners of the cavern.
“The ancient amulets were forged at the same time the Veil was created.” Siljar folded her hands in front of her, giving the impression of a very small history professor. “Long before you were asked to lead your people through the barrier.”
Nefri stiffened in surprise. “But . . .”
“Yes?”
“Gaius claimed his amulet was made by the Dark Lord,” she explained.
Siljar snorted. “Pompous douche.”
Nefri blinked. Pompous douche? Those weren’t words she expected to hear from a mighty Oracle.
“The Dark Lord?” she asked, cautiously.
“Of course.” Siljar peeled back her lips to reveal the razor sharp teeth. “The nasty creature was very skillful in destroying things, but he had no talent for creation.”
Yes, that made sense. The Dark Lord had been worshipped as a god, but never as a creator. Something she should have realized herself, she acknowledged with a pang of annoyance.
“Then how did he get it?”
“He stole it during the time we were finishing the Veil.”
Nefri’s brows lifted at the reluctant confession. Stealing from the Oracles seemed . . . suicidal. “How was that possible?”
Siljar shrugged. “We were distracted. Constructing the Veil took all our combined efforts and still we nearly failed. In fact . . .”
“In fact?”
Siljar gave a sharp shake of her head. “Nothing.”
Nefri knew damned well it wasn’t “nothing.” But she also knew that “nothing” could force Siljar to share if she didn’t want to.