Devoured By Darkness (8 page)

Offering such tender care was an unfamiliar experience for him.

He was a cold-hearted assassin, not a babysitter for vulnerable half-breeds.

Not that the pigheaded female appreciated his efforts, he acknowledged as he moved to block the door of the cell, glaring down at her stubborn expression with a surge of annoyance.

“We’re not going to argue about this, Laylah.”

“You’re the one arguing, not me.” She stabbed him in the middle of the chest with her finger, no doubt wishing it was a stake. Ungrateful wench. “I’m going with you to speak with the clan chief and that’s final.”

“Damn you, Laylah.” His hands curled into tight fists. “Victor isn’t a lame-ass cur like Caine who you can manipulate with a smile and too-tight shirt.”

Her face flushed as they both glanced down at the stretchy shirt that lovingly clung to every curve.

“Hey, this wasn’t my idea.”

Tane’s jaw clenched. “Believe me, I intend to have a long talk with Uriel the first chance I get.” “As if you have a say in what I wear.” It was a ridiculous argument.

What did it matter what she was wearing so long as she could easily run or even fight if necessary in the clothes?

Hell, his only interest in female clothing was how quickly he could get her out of them.

Now, however, the thought of any other male seeing so much of Laylah’s ivory skin and soft curves was making him homicidal.

“I’m your lover,” he said with an arrogance that brought a glitter of anger to her eyes. “I intend to have a say in everything that concerns you, sweet Laylah.” He shrugged off his gray hoodie, leaving him wearing nothing more than a pair of cargo pants. Not that it mattered. The chill in the air didn’t bother him. Wrapping her in the soft jersey, he tugged up the zipper and stepped back to regard her with satisfaction. The hoodie was too large, but it at least covered her from neck to well below her hips. “Much better.”

She held out her arms to display the cuffs that fell past her hands.

“Seriously?”

He reached out to tug the hood over her head, hiding her face in shadows.

“The fewer people who can describe you once we leave this lair, the better,” he smoothly improvised.

With a roll of her eyes, she shoved the arms of the sweatshirt up and over her elbows before regarding him with impatience.

“Fine. Can we just go?”

“As I was saying before you distracted me, Victor is a vicious clan chief who is notorious for striking first and asking questions later.” He resisted the urge to shake some sense into her. “If it’s true he holds a prejudice against Jinn he will attack before I can protect you.”

“I don’t want your protection,” she snapped. “I want answers.”

“Then perhaps I can be of assistance,” a soft female voice said from behind Tane.

Whirling on his heel, Tane silently cursed his inattention, his fangs on full display as he watched the small female with a long mane of reddish gold curls and faintly slanted eyes that were the palest shade of green halt mere steps away. It was the towering vampire with long black hair, and silver eyes rimmed with black, however, that held his attention.

Victor’s power was a tangible force in the air, challenging Tane’s aggressive need to prove his superiority. It was never comfortable having two alphas in the same place.

“Easy boys,” the female murmured.

Tane sent Victor a tight smile. “Boys?”

The clan chief of London gave a small shrug. “My mate has a challenging sense of humor.”

There was a brief pause as the two predators became familiar with one another. Tane used the opportunity to run a practiced glance over the female’s slender body attired in jeans and short sleeved sweater before moving to the towering Victor who wore a dark pair of chinos matched with a charcoal silk shirt.

He could easily detect the silver dagger hidden beneath Victor’s shirt and catch the scent of the handgun tucked in an ankle holster. So far as he could determine the female didn’t carry any weapons.

At least not the mundane sort of weapons.

She had witch’s blood running through her veins, which made her more of a danger than any dagger or handgun.

“Charon,” Victor drawled, the silver eyes narrowed. “And a Jinn.” He tested the air. “No. Half Jinn.”

“As you say,” Tane growled, bristling in warning.

There was the sound of footsteps behind him, then a completely unprovoked blow to the center of his back as Laylah felt the need to vent her displeasure.

Meeting Victor’s amused gaze, he grudgingly shifted to the side so Laylah could step out of the cell, her face still concealed by the hood.

“My name is Laylah.”

“A beautiful name,” Victor’s mate was swift to step into the tense silence, her smile kind. “I’m Juliet and this is Victor.” She sent the vampire at her side a wry grimace. “My mate when I choose to claim him.”

Tane stepped toward the clan chief, his body rigid with the compulsion to put as much distance as possible between Victor and Laylah.

“I must speak with you in private,” he demanded.

Laylah grabbed his arm. “Tane …”

“I must warn you, Laylah, that it’s a waste of breath to argue with vampires,” Juliet murmured, moving to place an arm around Laylah’s shoulders.

“But I have questions.”

“So I heard. Come with me.” Juliet urged Laylah down the opening between cells, obviously headed for the nearby stairs. “I think I have the answers you want.”

Tane’s brows snapped together in disbelief as he watched the two women disappear. Dammit, was Laylah trying to drive him nuts?

Victor snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Earth to Tane.”

He jerked to meet Victor’s amused gaze. “Where the hell are they going?”

Victor arched a brow. “Does it matter?”

“Laylah is a creature banned by the Commission. As soon as she leaves the tunnels she will be vulnerable.”

“So? It’ll save you the trouble of… shit.” Victor’s humor was replaced with cold fury as Tane grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the wall of the cell. “Unless you have an overwhelming itch for your grave I suggest you release me.”

Tane was rarely stupid.

He’d learned a brutal lesson in ever allowing his emotions to overcome his senses. Until Laylah.

Now he was making a perilous habit of charging from one bad decision to another.

A pity there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

“The Jinn is mine,” he hissed, grudgingly releasing his hold on the older vampire.

Victor smoothed his silk shirt, his sardonic expression disguising the lingering fury that Tane could scent in the air.

“I doubt the Oracles would agree.” “I will deal with them later.”

Victor folded his arms over his chest, a speculative expression on his noble features.

“What’s going on, Tane?” he demanded. “You have a reputation as a ruthless bastard who does your duty and disappears back to your hidden lair. Like Batman, without the creepy butler.”

He hesitated. He wasn’t about to share his strange obsession with Laylah, but he was going to have to offer some explanation if he wanted Victor’s help.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I’m playing a hunch?” he at last said.

“Yes,” he agreed with a remarkable sincerity. “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.”

Victor headed toward the door leading out of the dungeon, his Italian leather shoes clicking against the stone floor. Tane was barefoot as usual. Who gave a rat’s ass for expensive leather? Silence trumped fashion any day of the week.

Tane hurried to catch up with the clan chief, reaching his side as they climbed the narrow steps to enter the grand mansion above.

“Laylah,” he gritted.

“She’ll be safe with Juliet,” Victor promised with an offhand tone that made Tane’s jaw clench. The vampire was lucky that Tane had need of him.

“Not if half the demons in London are trying to capture her.”

“Don’t worry.” Victor smiled with smug confidence. “My mate has a collection of magical artifacts that could fill the Louvre. Somewhere among the cache are a hundred amulets, charms, and crystals that will keep Laylah hidden from nosy demons.”

They passed through the black and white foyer of the Palladian masterpiece and up an imposing staircase with a gilded balustrade. From there Victor led him through the marble hall that held a priceless collection of Greek statues set in shallow alcoves and a coved ceiling painted with fierce angels battling a horde of demons and into the formal salon.

The towering walls were covered by crimson silk panels, the rich color echoed in the upholstery of the traditional English furnishings and heavy velvet curtains that had been pulled aside to reveal a line of arched windows that overlooked a sunken garden.

It looked and smelled of ancient wealth.

The sort of stuffed shirt, grandiose, don’t-touch-anything place that made Tane itch.

Although he had no memory of his life as a human, he retained his people’s preference for being surrounded by nature.

Moving toward a heavy sideboard, Victor tugged open a scrolled panel to reveal a mini fridge tucked inside. There was the tinkle of glass, then he turned to cross the Oriental carpet and shoved a glass of fresh blood into his hand.

“Here.”

Tane wrinkled his nose. “I don’t want …”

“I know what you want,” Victor interrupted in a tone that defied argument. “But for now you’ll settle for this. Tell me how you came into contact with a mongrel Jinn.”

Tane concisely explained the events leading up to his pursuit of Laylah and her desperate attempts to elude him that had eventually landed them both in London.

Victor listened in silence, his expression unreadable. “So you’ve had her in your powers twice and failed to take her to the Oracles? A dangerous game.”

He grimaced, downing the blood in one gulp. Immediately he felt his strength increasing, although it was flat and tasteless.

For the first time in his long existence, he hungered for one blood in particular. “This stopped being a game days ago.” Victor nodded. In understanding or sympathy? Impossible to say.

“What of your hunch?” he prompted. “She’s hiding something,” Tane confessed.

“Something?” “A baby.”

Victor revealed the first hint of surprise. “Hers?”

“No.” Tane made a sound of frustration. “But that’s all I’m certain of.”

Victor took his empty glass and returned to the sideboard. When he turned he held two glasses of whiskey. He crossed to offer one of the shots to Tane.

“Then what’s your interest in the child?”

Tane tossed the fine Irish spirits down his throat, savoring the burn.

“Laylah was willing to give her life to protect the babe. I want to know why.”

Victor studied him with a piercing gaze. “Tane, are you certain you aren’t just inventing reasons to keep Laylah with you rather than turning her over to the Commission?”

Tane paced toward the gardens drenched in a silvery fog, annoyed by the intrusion into his privacy.

Like every vampire he answered to Styx, the Anasso, but as a Charon he had no clan and no chief. Which meant he didn’t have to explain himself or his decisions to anyone.

Or perhaps he was annoyed by the possibility the clan chief was right on the money.

“I’m not damned well sure of anything beyond the fact the woman has crawled beneath my skin,” he muttered. “But I sense …”

“What?”

“I sense the babe is important.” He studied his companion with a stubborn expression. “And so is Laylah.”

Laylah had never had a female friend. Not even when she’d been in the comforting care of her foster mother.

The need for secrecy had always overridden her aching desire for companionship.

Loneliness was the price for her freedom.

Now she found herself… what was a good word? Discombobulated, yeah that fit perfect, as Juliet hustled her to a vast guest bedroom that was decorated in shades of ivory and lavender, barely allowing Laylah to get a word in edgewise as she draped an amulet of disguise about her neck before urging her into the attached bathroom that was a woman’s wet dream.

A sunken marble tub the size of Rhode Island was smack dab in the center of the room and already filled with steaming hot water. A line of bottles that held bath oils, soaps, shampoos, and soothing crystals were set on the glass shelves. And lit candles filled the air with a soft vanilla scent.

Left alone, Laylah gave in to temptation and soaked away the dirt and tension of the past days, only leaving the water when she began to resemble a prune. Why not linger? For now the amulet would hide her presence from even the most persistent demon.

At last returning to the guest room she discovered clean jeans and a pretty yellow shirt, as well as lacy underwear and tennis shoes laid out on the canopy bed.

She shook her head as she pulled on the clothes and ran a brush through her spiky crimson hair. She didn’t know what she’d expected when Tane had brought her to the lair of London’s clan chief, but it certainly wasn’t to be treated like a welcomed guest.

There was a knock on the door. “Can I get you anything else, Laylah?” Juliet demanded.

With a smile, Laylah crossed to pull open the door, stepping hurriedly aside as the tiny woman bustled in with a silver tray that she carried directly to the cherry wood table.

“No, I believe you’ve thought of everything,” she said dryly.

“Sorry.” Juliet laughed, occupied with unloading the various plates of sandwiches, scones, fresh cream and … Laylah’s nose twitched, her mouth watering. Cake. German chocolate cake. “It’s so rare that I have visitors who aren’t here to kiss Victor’s ass or to try and assassinate him that I don’t remember how to treat a normal guest.”

Laylah snorted as she closed the door. “Don’t sweat it, there’s nothing normal about me.”

“Poor choice of words.” Juliet poured two cups of hot tea. “Did you know I’m a mongrel? Witch and imp. Or imp and witch, depending on who I’m trying to shock.”

Lured by her companion’s friendly chatter, and of course, the temptation of cake, Laylah crossed the room to join her next to the bay window that overlooked the sprawling parkland.

“I think the half-Jinn thing has you beat on the whole shock factor.”

“Fair enough. I hope you…” Juliet’s words faltered to a halt as she lifted her head and studied Laylah with wide, startled eyes. “Bloody hell.”

“What is it?” Laylah raised a hand and brushed at her cheek. “Do I have something on my face?”

Juliet shook her head. “Do you have relatives in London?”

Laylah’s heart slammed against her ribs. So this wasn’t just a wild goose chase.

“That’s what I’m here to discover. Levet said that he ran into a Jinn in London. Oh.” Laylah grimaced, belatedly realizing she hadn’t given the poor little demon a thought since she’d awoken. “Where is the gargoyle?”

“Hunting.” Juliet shuddered. “Don’t ask.”

Reassured Levet was safe, Laylah returned her attention to the reason she’d traveled to London.

“So, do you know about the Jinn?”

Juliet cleared her throat, abruptly turning to pace across the room in obvious discomfort.

“I’m afraid I do.”

Laylah frowned. “How?”

“I suppose it must have been two hundred years ago, maybe a bit more,” Juliet said, keeping her back to Laylah. “It was before I was mated to Victor, although he was already making a pest of himself.”

“Obviously a vampire trait,” Laylah muttered, ignoring the pang that tugged at her heart.

She was doing her best not to think of the wild, frenzied sex she’d shared with Tane. After all, what was there to think about?

He’d rocked her world. Hell, he’d sent her into orbit.

And now he was back to being her enemy.

End of story.

“Yes,” Juliet readily agreed. “Anyway, Levet had become a squatter of my current master and one of my few friends. So when he was kidnapped I went to rescue him. I had no idea that he’d managed to piss off a Jinn or I might have reconsidered.”

“You actually met the Jinn?”

“Not precisely.” With a sigh, Juliet turned, her expression rueful. “He wasn’t in a chatty mood. In fact, when we crossed paths he was doing his best to kill me.”

“It was a male?” Laylah stepped forward, unable to believe she could actually find the truth of her past. Not after waiting for so long. “You’re certain of that?”

“Absolutely certain.”

So. Her Jinn blood must come from her father’s side. It was a beginning.

“But you don’t know why he was in London?”

“No.” Juliet spread her hands. “All I really know is that he was beautiful and terrifying and so powerful I truly thought he was going to kill me, not to mention Victor and Levet.”

Laylah heaved a sigh of disappointment. She’d hoped that Levet’s mention of running into a Jinn had included more than a brief moment of violence.

“Damn.”

“Laylah.”

“Hmmm?”

Lost in her thoughts, Laylah didn’t realize her companion had returned to her side until she laid a hand on her arm.

“There’s no easy way to say this. I killed him,” Juliet softly confessed. “I’m so sorry.”

Laylah made a choked sound. Not in distress. How did she mourn a complete stranger, even if that stranger did happen to be her long lost father? But in shock that the slender witch could possibly have survived an encounter with a powerful Jinn, let alone be responsible for his death.
“You
killed him?”

Juliet looked miserable. “I swear it was in self-defense.”

Laylah grabbed Juliet’s hand, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze.

“You don’t have to explain, Juliet,” she assured the woman. “I’ve done enough research to know that full-blooded Jinns are deceitful, immoral creatures who have loyalty to no one but themselves.”

Her eyes darkened with regret. “That doesn’t matter if he was a part of your family.”

Laylah shrugged, not entirely certain how she felt.

If she were a wide-eyed innocent she might try to convince herself that the Jinn had indeed been her father and that she now had a perfect explanation for why she’d been abandoned. After all, not even the most devoted father could overcome death to keep his child protected.

Well, not unless he happened to be a ghoul.

But she was a demon that had been smacked around by the world and as far as she was concerned fairy tales were for suckers.

“I suppose he must have been if I look enough like him for you to notice,” she said.

“Oh, no.” Juliet blinked in surprise. “You don’t look like the Jinn. Well, maybe a little around the nose and mouth, but you could be the daughter of Lady Havassy.” Her gaze swept over Laylah’s pale face. “It’s downright uncanny.”

Laylah was momentarily speechless.

She’d been so focused on discovering information on the Jinn that she’d never considered the possibility that she might have other relatives dangling about London.

“Who is Lady Havassy?” she at last managed to choke out.

“A local vampire with a nasty temper and dislike for Victor.” Juliet grimaced, clearly not a huge fan of Lady Havassy. “Thankfully she rarely leaves her house near Buckingham Palace.”

“Vampire.” Laylah frowned in confusion. “They can’t reproduce, can they?”

“No, but they’re human before they’re turned,” Juliet pointed out. “Obviously they would have families.”

“But then I would be mortal.”

“Yes. If she mated with a Jinn and had you, then became a vampire.”

“Oh.”

Laylah had never considered the possibility that one of her parents could be mortal. After all, she had talents that had nothing to do with Jinn magic.

She shoved her hand through her still damp hair. She’d come to London for answers, but so far all she’d discovered was more questions.

As if sensing Laylah’s frustration, Juliet gave a hasty wave of her hand, her fey blood evident in her expressive movements.

“It could also be a mere fluke,” she assured Laylah. “We’re all supposed to have a twin out there somewhere, right?”

Laylah nodded, not at all convinced. “I suppose.”

The door flew open, banging against the wall with enough force to make both women turn in surprise. At the same moment, the small gargoyle waddled into the room, his ugly face twisted into an expression of disgust.

“Fog, fog, fog. Who does a gargoyle have to sleep with to get off this soggy island?” he complained, his eyes abruptly widening as he caught sight of Laylah standing near the window.
“Ma cherie,
you are well?”

“I’m more worried about you,” Laylah said, guilt tugging at her heart as the miniature demon hurried toward her. She’d simply forced the gargoyle to come with her to London. How selfish could she possibly be? “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize the shadow walk would knock you out.”

“Knock me out?” Levet sniffed, his wings twitching in outrage. “Absurd. I was merely resting my eyes. Being a Knight in Shining Armor is a tiresome business.”

“Of course,” Laylah instantly soothed.

Levet tilted back his head, sniffing the air. “Cake. I smell cake.”

Hurrying past the women, the gargoyle set about demolishing the large amount of food left on the tray, ignoring Juliet’s futile attempt to rescue a piece of cake for Laylah.

Grateful for the distraction, Laylah wandered across the room, absently halting at the marble mantel that was lined with priceless Faberge eggs.

She was seemingly at a dead end when it came to the Jinn. At least she was until she could find someone in London who had managed to have an actual conversation with the volatile creature two hundred years ago.

But the vampire …

Juliet had said the similarity between them was remarkable. Surely there must be
some
family connection? Laylah didn’t believe in coincidences.

There was a light touch on her arm as Juliet joined her, a concerned expression on her pretty face.

“Laylah?” “Yes?”

“Is everything okay?”

Laylah hesitated. She already liked Juliet. In fact, she already considered her a friend. Her
only
friend. And how pathetic was that?

But the desperation to discover where she’d come from, who her parents were, and why she’d been abandoned was an overwhelming compulsion.

“Actually I have a headache,” she said with a stiff smile, hating herself for the lie. “Do you happen to have any aspirin?”

Juliet couldn’t entirely hide her surprise at the hasty excuse. Demons, even of the mongrel variety, tended to be impervious to the usual human ailments. But, swiftly hiding her confusion, she gave Laylah a comforting pat.

“I have a healing crystal that should do the trick much quicker.”

“That would be fantastic.”

“I’ll be back in a sec.”

Laylah watched Juliet hurry from the room before she jogged into the bathroom where she’d left the oversized sweatshirt. Gods, she felt like a jerk. Juliet had every reason to treat her as a dangerous, unstable beast who should be locked away.

It was how most people reacted once they discovered she was half Jinn.

Instead she’d been kind and welcoming and …

“Um, Laylah?”

She turned her head to discover Levet standing in the door to the bathroom. “Where are you going?”

She shoved up the overlong sleeves before hurrying toward the window. “To see if I can find Mommie Dearest.”

“You’re leaving?”

“I know … I feel terrible.” She threw open the window, climbing onto the stool to sling her leg over the sill. “Please tell Juliet I’m sorry.”

Levet hurried forward, halting only long enough to grab one of the disguise amulets that Juliet had left on a table.

“Mon Dieu.
Wait for me.”

Laylah was a little touched. And a lot embarrassed.

As nice as it was to have the demon offer his companionship, she couldn’t afford to have him tagging along, drawing unwanted attention.

“I appreciate your concern, but there’s no need for you to go with me.”

“Do you have pigeons in your belfry?” Levet demanded, climbing onto the sill next to her.

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m not going to be anywhere near a Charon when he’s discovered his prisoner has escaped.”

“Good point.” She grimaced. Tane was going to be livid when he discovered she’d slipped away. Again. “Maybe we should hurry.”

The lower kitchens of the London town house had long ago been given over to Sergei. Marika had no use for them, and while she insisted the blood sacrifices be made in the cellar, there were always potions to brew and spells to prepare.

She made a point of avoiding the cavernous rooms that were lined with odd hieroglyphics scribbled on the brick walls and dried plants that hung from the open timbered ceiling. A circle had been etched into the stone floor, where a wooden altar stood holding an ancient book that made Marika shiver in disgust.

Like any vampire she hated magic.

Almost as much as she hated magic users.

And the fact that she was forced to depend on one to achieve her glorious fate only inflamed her already seething temper.

Tugging off the veiled hat she’d matched with her black Valentino gown for her evening at the opera, she carelessly tossed it aside and allowed her heavy curls to tumble about her shoulders.

The evening had begun with such promise.

She had dined on two tender wood sprites that had strayed into Green Park and a lovely Turkish businessman in Covent Garden. From there she’d made her entrance at the Royal Opera House, causing her usual stir as she made her way to her private box.

Then, in the middle of the second act of
La Traviata,
one of her numerous minions had intruded into her box, whispering in her ear that there were rumors of a Jinn being scented near London.