When Darkness Ends

Torn between staying with Cyn and needing to find some way to help him, Fallon compromised by screaming at the top of her lungs.

“Help. Someone help.”

Absently smoothing back the braids from his too-pale face, she kept herself between his unconscious body and the bowl. Later she would try to figure out how the hell the cloaked figure had managed to send magic through her scrying bowl, but for now she simply needed to make sure that Cyn wasn’t hit again.

Preparing to go in search of help, Fallon was relieved when the door was pushed open and Levet stepped into the room.

“What has that bully of a vampire . . .” The gargoyle’s words came to an abrupt halt as he caught sight of Cyn collapsed on the floor. “Oh. Bravo, ma belle.”

“It wasn’t me,” she rasped. “He’s truly hurt.”

Easily sensing her panic, Levet crossed the carpet to lean over Cyn with a puzzled frown. “Human magic.” He lifted his head to meet her worried gaze. “How?”

“Through my scrying bowl.”

The fairy wings fluttered in shock. “Truly?”

“Can you help him?”

“Non.” The gargoyle gave a shake of his head. “A vampire can only receive strength from their own kind.”

Fallon surged to her feet. She didn’t know exactly where to find the beautiful Lise, but she had to be close by.

“His clan—”

“Styx,” Levet interrupted, halting her step toward the door.

“The king?”

“Oui.” A grimace wrinkled his tiny snout. “He might be an annoying creature, but he is the most powerful vampire and his position as the Anasso means he has a connection to Cyn.”

It made sense.

Her own father could share his powers with his people when they were in need, giving them strength or assisting the healers on the rare occasion when one of them was grievously wounded.

Still, he was half a world away.

“I can’t form a portal without knowing where I’m going.”

Levet squatted down beside Cyn, his hand pressing to Cyn’s chest. Fallon felt a tiny tingle of magic flow through the air as the gargoyle did his best to keep the vampire’s life-force from slipping away.

“Can you travel to your fiancé?”

Fallon stiffened in confusion. Did the creature think that she was going to run away when Cyn was hurt?

“Why would I want to do that?”

“He’s staying with Styx.” Ignoring Fallon’s gasp, Levet glanced up with a worried expression. “I suggest you hurry.”





Chapter Nine


Styx had reluctantly returned to his lair an hour before sunrise.

Darcy had urged him to remain in St. Louis where she was helping her sister with her new litter of pups, but Styx declined. He’d told her that a vampire didn’t accept the hospitality of the King of Weres. Which wasn’t exactly a lie. While he currently had a truce with Salvatore, it wasn’t that long ago they’d been mortal enemies.

But the truth was that he was feeling growingly uneasy.

It wasn’t just the fact that his mate wasn’t in his bed where she belonged.

Or that Cyn was still MIA.

Or that his lair had somehow become a hotel for the Chatri.

Or even that he had a treacherous imp locked in his dungeons.

It was quite simply that Styx had been through too many near-apocalyptic disasters not to sense trouble when it was brewing.

Entering the house from the gardens, he headed straight toward the dungeons. He was in no mood to run into the prissy Prince Magnus.

He paused to speak with the two vampire guards on duty before he traveled along the narrow pathway between the cells. Each small cubicle was built to hold a specific demon, with the fey cages at the very back of the room.

Built of iron with powerful hexes scraped into the walls, they added to the spells that already dampened the magic in his lair.

Not even the strongest fey could create a portal here.

Clearly hearing his approach, Keeley was standing near the door when Styx pushed it open.

“It’s about time,” the imp groused, his golden hair limp and his clothes rumpled. Standing in the barren cell that held nothing but a narrow cot, the creature looked nothing like the arrogant fey who used to prance through the lair of the previous Anasso. “I thought you had forgotten I was down here.”

Styx bared his fangs. Damn, he hoped the bastard gave him a reason to rip open his throat.

“Do you really want to start this conversation by pissing me off?” he asked, his voice lethally soft.

Only a bully raged and yelled. A truly dangerous predator never lost control of his emotions.

Belatedly recalling his life was hanging in the balance, Keeley performed a deep bow. “Forgive me, Your Majesty. It was my fear speaking.”

“You should be afraid.” Styx leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb, folding his arms over his massive chest. “You betrayed my master and led him to his ultimate death.”

Keeley straightened, his face pale. “It wasn’t me. Damocles was the one who brought the drug addicts to poison the Anasso.”