When Darkness Ends (19 page)

Cyn arched a brow.

That sounded way too easy.

“That was all there was to casting the spell?”

“No.” Dante's expression twisted with disgust. “She'd sacrificed one of her own witches. Like most dark magic, this one demanded blood.”

Fallon stepped forward, far more familiar with all this hocus-pocus than Cyn.

“The amulet would focus the magic and the blood would be the catalyst.”

Dante nodded. “Exactly.” He sent a curious glance toward Cyn. “You want to tell me what all this is about?”

“Siljar will have my ass,” Cyn growled. “But I need your help.”

Dante grimaced. “This is Oracle business?”

“Aye. It seems that someone, perhaps more than one, has been manipulating the Commission.”

Dante looked shocked. “Impossible.”

“My word exactly,” Cyn said in dry tones. “Siljar, however, is convinced that they're being coerced into performing this spell.”

Dante's gaze lowered to the scroll in Cyn's hand. “Does she have a suspicion of what the spell is supposed to do?”

“One designed to shut down any travel between dimensions.”

Dante looked confused. “Why would the Oracles want to do that?”

It was Fallon who answered. “They've been tricked into believing that it's a simple cleansing spell.”

Dante muttered a curse. “Manipulating the entire Commission takes some serious mojo.”

“No shit,” Cyn muttered.

“What happens if they complete the spell?” Dante asked.

Cyn tossed the spell on his desk. “Demons die.”

Dante looked more resigned than surprised. “Sounds familiar.”

“That's what I thought.” Cyn glanced toward his vast collection of books. He had thousands that spoke of fey powers, but very few that concentrated on human magic-users. He gave a frustrated shake of his head. “Did any of the witches survive your battle?”

“A few,” Dante admitted. “You suspect they might be involved?”

Cyn gave a restless lift of his shoulder. He didn't know what the hell he suspected.

Only that he couldn't shake his sense of déjà vu.

“It's difficult to know, but I think we should consider the possibility,” he said. “What happened to the spell books?”

“If any were bound to Edra they would have been destroyed when she died.” Dante reminded Cyn of the witches' habit of magically connecting themselves to their most private papers so they would turn to ash the moment of their death. “But to be honest, they were the last of my concern.”

“Understandable.” Cyn nodded toward the spell on his desk. “But it would be nice to know if they had the same hieroglyphics.”

Sensing Cyn's rising frustration, Fallon briskly headed toward the desk. Sitting in the large wooden seat she pulled out a piece of paper and pen.

She didn't have any battle skills, or special magic that could help reveal the identity of the magic-user. But she'd trained her entire life to bring order out of chaos.

Okay, her chaos usually included fairy balls and complicated seating arrangements, but still, the principle was the same.

Watching her with a lift of his brows, Cyn leaned against the edge of the desk.

“What are you doing?”

“Making a list,” she said, trying not to feel foolish.

If she couldn't scry to track down the human, she had to do something.

His brows inched higher. “A list?”

She held his curious gaze. “I'm a princess. That's what we do.”

Dante choked back a laugh. “Princess, eh? Aiming high, my friend.”

Cyn ignored the other vampire, his attention remaining fixed on Fallon.

“A list of what?”

“What seems to be similar between the two spells.” She put the pen to paper and began to write. “Both are designed to specifically affect demons, both are performed by human magic-users, and both need a large power source to complete them.” She glanced up at Dante. “Would the Commission have the same power as a goddess?”

“More,” he said without hesitation.

“You sound certain,” Cyn said in surprise.

Dante's lips twisted into a humorless smile. “The Commission has more or less allowed Abby and I to live in peace. They would have her locked and isolated in some sort of prison if they weren't certain that they can control her if necessary.”

Cyn nodded. “True.”

Dante tilted his head to the side. The dark-haired vampire was built on smaller lines than Cyn—of course, everyone but the Anasso was built on smaller lines—but there was no missing the lethal power that chilled the air around him.

“What makes you believe that the person responsible is a magic-user?” he demanded.

Cyn touched the spell that was lying next to Fallon's arm. “This spell is fey in origin, but I suspect that it's been altered by humans.”

Dante clearly sensed there was more. “And?”

Cyn hesitated, waiting for Fallon to give a small nod before revealing the talent she'd kept carefully hidden.

“Fallon was scrying the Oracle's caves and caught sight of a shrouded male sneaking through the back tunnels,” he said, unconsciously raising his hand to his chest where he'd been hit by the vicious spell. “We suspect he was performing some sort of magic.”

“A Compulsion spell?” the vampire shrewdly deduced.

Cyn shrugged. “That would be my guess.”

Fallon frowned, abruptly realizing that they were missing an obvious flaw in their reasoning.

“If the magic-user completed his spell and has the Commission under his sway, why is he waiting? Shouldn't he be forcing the Oracles to close the dimensions?”

“I was trapped by the witches for over three hundred years,” Dante said, his anger toward those who held him captive a tangible pulse in the air. “Controlling more than one person with compulsion is massively difficult. I know less than a dozen witches who are capable of compelling more than two or three humans at a time. To try and leash a dozen Oracles . . .” He shuddered. “It would take more power than I can even imagine.”

Cyn tapped his finger on the smooth surface of the desk, clearly in deep thought.

“Or several layers of lesser magic,” he at last said.

Dante nodded. “Yes. That would make sense.”

“You mean he performed the spell several times?” Fallon asked.

“Aye,” Cyn agreed. “And each one tightens the magic-user's control over the Oracles.”

Fallon absently chewed her bottom lip. “But when he does—”

“He can command them to cast the spell,” Cyn finished her terrifying thought.

Dante's expression was grim as he placed his hands on his hips.

“Do you want me to try and track down the witches that were connected to Edra's coven?”

Cyn nodded. “It would be a start.” He paused as he pulled out his phone, his brows pulling together as he read the incoming text. “It's Styx,” he muttered. “He wants us in Chicago.”

“Now?” Dante asked.

“Aye.” Cyn's frown deepened. “Bloody hell.”

Fallon rose to her feet, instantly concerned. “What is it?”

“He wants me to bring the gargoyle.”

“Levet's here?” Dante growled.

With exquisite timing, the diminutive gargoyle stepped into the room, his wings dazzling in the firelight.

“Did someone call?”

Dante rolled his eyes. “Why me?”

Levet scrunched his snout, sending the dark-haired vampire a mocking glance.

“Clearly you were created beneath a lucky star.”

Sensing the brewing violence, Fallon hurriedly crossed to put herself between Levet and the scowling males.

“We must travel to the King of Vampires,” she informed the tiny demon.

“Ah.” Levet gave a small sniff. “I suppose I am expected to save the world once again?”

“It's quite likely,” Fallon agreed.

“Truly?” The gray eyes widened with horror. “
Mon Dieu
.”

Dante strolled forward. “I thought you enjoyed being Savior of the World?”

Levet's tail twitched as he cleared his throat. “Of course I do, but it hardly seems fair to constantly pig out all the glory.”

“Pig out?” Cyn demanded, moving to stand beside his friend.

“Hog, you imbecile,” Dante said with a shake of his head. “It's hog all the glory.”

“
Tout ce que,
” the gargoyle said. “I feel I should allow some other demon to enjoy the pleasure of being a savior.”

Cyn gave a short laugh. “Very generous.”

“
Oui
.” Levet preened, ignoring the blatant sarcasm. “I am a giver.”

“You're something, all right,” Dante muttered.

Fallon hid her delight with Levet. It was rare for two vampires to be so obviously annoyed by such a little creature. He clearly had a special talent.

Still, she didn't want to see him harmed.

“We should go,” she said, heading out of the library to lead the way back to the foyer.

Once there, she concentrated on reopening the portal she'd so recently closed.

She'd just stabilized the portal when she felt the brush of cool fingers along the nape of her neck. Fallon shivered, her entire body going up in flames.

Damn. How did he do that?

One touch and all she wanted was to melt into his arms.

“It won't be too much of a strain to take all of us through the portal?” he softly demanded, speaking low enough so his question wouldn't carry.

Clearly he didn't want to embarrass her if she had to admit she didn't have the power to transport them.

Her lips twitched. Not by his display of concern. Cyn had already proven that he possessed an instinctive need to protect females. But the fact that he actually accepted she might have a pride that could be wounded . . .

It was a hell of a lot more than her father or Magnus had ever offered her.

No wonder women found him irresistible.

“No,” she assured him. “Once the portal is open, I can easily transport a large number of people.”

“Damn.” Dante's expression held a hint of admiration. “It's no wonder the fey worship the Chatri.”

Cyn's fingers lightly skimmed down her throat, a mysterious smile curving his lips.

“Aye, I worship one of my own.”

She blushed at being the center of attention, hastily reaching to touch Levet's wing while Dante laid his hand on Cyn's shoulder.

“Is everyone ready?”

“
Non,
” Levet said with a heavy sigh. “But I do not suppose my opinion matters.”

“Go,” Cyn growled, shoving the gargoyle into the waiting portal.

 

 

Magnus couldn't deny a grudging respect for Tonya as they walked the pathway that meandered through moonlit fields, a large forest, along the edge of a loch and up and over the series of low, rolling hills.

She made no complaints despite the fact that she was hardly dressed to be trudging for miles. And more importantly, she didn't badger him with questions even knowing that their surroundings were an illusion.

But at last she'd had enough, coming to a halt so she could kick off her ridiculous high-heeled shoes.

“Stop,” she muttered. “I'm exhausted.”

“Fine.” He stood beside her, grudgingly accepting that it wasn't going to be as easy as he hoped to break free of their prison. “We will rest for a short time.”

“Will you tell me what the hell is going on?”

He paused. If she were a Chatri female, he would have told her not to worry her pretty head and offered a vague assurance that everything would be well.

But Tonya was nothing at all like the women he was accustomed to.

She was stubborn, and independent, and she would be completely pissed if he tried to lie to her just to make her feel better.

Ridiculous female.

“When we stepped out of the portal we were caught in a Labyrinth spell,” he said.

“Labyrinth?” She shook her head. “I've never heard of it.”

“The ancient druids used to cast them to trap unwary fey.”

She looked puzzled. “Why?”

“They could force them to share their potions that magnified the druid magic.”

“Oh.” She cast a glance around the empty landscape, almost as if she expected a cloaked druid to appear from the shadows. “I knew that sorcerers were rumored to force the fey to prolong their lives with potions, but I always thought druids were peaceful.”

“Sariel discovered what they were doing and threatened to slaughter every one of them if they used fey magic again,” Magnus said.

“He did?” The emerald eyes widened in surprise. Magnus grimaced. Why did she assume that the Chatri males were ineffectual wimps? Sariel had enough power to make most vampires quake in fear. “Well, I suppose the threat of complete genocide would make a druid think twice about disobeying the royal command.”

“It should have.” Magnus waved a disgusted hand toward the fields. “Clearly our time away from this world has emboldened the magic-user.”

“Why would a druid want to trap us?”

It was a question that had been nagging at Magnus since he'd realized they'd triggered the spell.

“It could be nothing more than a precaution used by the druid to ensure he wasn't followed,” he said, choosing the most logical explanation.

“Or?” Tonya prompted.

“Or he learned a Chatri had returned and was afraid I might punish him for breaking our law,” Magnus said, knowing he couldn't overlook that this might be more personal. “The death of the imp could have been used as a way to lure me here with the intent to kill me.”

Tonya shivered, but she didn't panic. Magnus gave a faint shake of his head. Why did he feel a stupid prick of pride at her composure? Dammit. Her foolish courage might very well lead her into danger.

“Tell me about the spell,” she demanded. “What does it do?”

“It works like a maze,” he grudgingly revealed. “The magic has us locked in a bubble where we can move forward but we can't leave.”

“Holy shit,” she muttered. “It's Hotel California.”

He frowned. Hadn't he told her they were in Ireland?

“What?”

“Never mind.” She waved a hand toward the distant loch. “If this is a maze, then why does the scenery keep changing?”

“I have been using my power to alter our perception,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because the spell shouldn't be capable of holding a Chatri,” he said, his voice edged with frustration. “And certainly not a prince.”

“Of course not.” Tonya rolled her eyes.

“I am a prince because my bloodline possesses superior powers.”

“Arrogant ass.”

Magnus scowled. Annoying female. Did she think he was bragging?

He had been born with a power that was second only to the king. Which was precisely why Sariel had chosen him to wed his daughter.

“It's truth, not arrogance,” he snapped.

She folded her arms under her breasts, emphasizing their lush beauty.

Not that he actually noticed, he hastily assured himself, wrenching his appreciative gaze from the decadent swell of her bust that was showcased by the low scoop of her neckline.

“If you're so freaking powerful, then why are we still stuck?” she taunted.

“The spell has been modified.” He used his senses to touch the illusion surrounding them. As soon as he brushed against the magic it instantly shifted, the hills replaced by a barren tundra. He made a sound of disgust. “I should be able to break the illusion and find our way out. Instead, a new illusion simply replaces the old.”

“Then how do we get out?”

“We can't.”

She sucked in a shocked breath, revealing the first crack in her grim composure.

“Are you shitting me?” she rasped, the scent of stewed plums filling the air. “We're stuck in this . . . illusion for eternity? Just the two of us.” The emerald eyes darkened with an indecipherable emotion. “I must have died and gone to hell.”