At the same time he was hit with a spell freezing him in place.
“Shit,” he rasped, watching in helpless horror as the eerily beautiful demon moved into view. “Phyla.”
“You will come with me,” the powerful Oracle commanded, her copper hair floating around the pure oval of her face and her green eyes speckled with silver that glowed in the moonlight.
“Phyla.” Cyn struggled against the invisible bands that held him immobile. “Can you hear me?”
The female drifted past him, her movements oddly sinuous as she leaned down to grab Fallon by the throat. Then, lifting the unconscious Chatri off the ground, she waved a hand toward Cyn, releasing him from her spell.
“This way.”
With a blur of movement, Cyn was standing directly in front of the demon, his sword beneath her chin.
“Wait.”
With an unnerving strength, the demon continued to hold Fallon by the throat, the fingers tightening as if she were prepared to crush the unconscious woman’s throat.
“You will obey or I will kill the female,” she said in a low hiss.
For a crazed second Cyn felt a red mist begin to cloud his mind.
The sight of his female being threatened was enough to tip him into his berserker rage.
It was only the realization that Phyla could destroy Fallon with one blast of her magical fire that forced back the tidal wave of fury so he could think clearly.
Stepping back, he slowly lowered his sword.
It was obvious the demon was under the control of the druid. Which meant he couldn’t physically prevent her from harming Fallon.
He’d have to use his own skills to try and break through the compulsion.
“Fine,” he growled. “I’m coming.”
“This way.”
She headed toward the nearby farmhouse, seemingly indifferent to the massive vampire at her side. Cyn, however, angled himself so he was walking two steps ahead of her and capable of looking her directly in the eye.
“Where are we going?” he demanded, adding a subtle layer of compulsion to his tone.
The damned druid wasn’t the only one who could sway the minds of others.
And luckily, Cyn’s talent was stronger than most vampires.
Her pace never slowed, but something flickered in the silver-flecked eyes.
“To join your brothers.”
Hell. His gut twisted with dread. Styx and Viper must have been caught. He could only hope that Dante hadn’t yet been detected.
“What have you done with them?”
“They are preparing to die.”
“Phyla.” Cyn planted himself directly in front of the demon, his voice low with command. “Stop.”
Her steps stumbled, then came to a halt. Her face twisted with obvious pain, her body trembling as she was attacked by two contradicting compulsions.
“We must go,” she rasped.
He reached out to touch her face, increasing his pressure on her tortured mind.
“The druid has cast a spell on you,” he said. “You must fight it.”
Her trembling increased. “I—”
“Concentrate on me,” he urged, his hand stroking her cheek. “Release the Chatri.”
Her breath came in short, painful gasps. “It’s impossible. The death spell I placed on her will trip if I release her.”
Cyn swallowed his curse. He was going to need help.
“What happened to the vampires?”
“They’re being held in the prisons beneath the caves.”
Cyn frowned. Styx had told him about the large holding pens that the previous Anasso had used to confine his drug-addicted humans. He assumed that must be what she was referring to.
“What about the druid?”
She paused, no doubt using the connection the druid forced on her to track him.
“He’s in the altar chamber.”
“What about the Oracles?”
“They’re gathering in the Council Room. I must join them.”
“Can you lead me to the druid?”
“Yes. But—”
She made a gagged sound, as if something or someone was cutting off her words.
“What is it?”
The muscles of her neck bulged as she struggled to spit out the words.
“The amulet.”
He frowned. “What amulet?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she gave a violent shudder, pain flaring in her eyes before they abruptly went dull and lifeless.
“We must go,” she said, her monotone voice revealing she was once again under full command of the druid.
Cyn continued to stand in her path, desperate to break the spell.
“Phyla.”
Fire flickered over the demon’s skin. “Move or I’ll kill her.”
“Damn.”
Cyn leaped to the side, his gaze locked on Fallon to make sure the flames didn’t touch her vulnerable skin. Locked in the demon’s spell, he didn’t know if she could survive being burned or not.
Dampening the fire, Phyla started forward again, leading Cyn into the mouth of a cavern hidden behind the farmhouse.
Cyn grimaced as they moved across the smooth floor and into the tunnel that led sharply downward.
He didn’t need to be able to sense magic to realize that there was something big happening. He could feel it in the heavy press of air that seemed to cling to his skin and the tiny quakes beneath his feet. There was even a smell of electricity in the air. As if lightning was about to strike.
Not the most comfortable sensation for a vampire.
They followed the main tunnel until they entered a large cavern with a number of openings that branched in every direction.
Cyn frowned as Phyla headed to the very back of the cavern. Where the hell was she going? There was nothing but a large pile of rubble that towered nearly to the ceiling.
As if blind to the mess, Phyla continued forward, her pace never slowing.
Then, as she stepped directly into the stones, he muttered an exasperated curse.
An illusion.
Of course.
Holding his sword in a white-knuckled grip, Cyn forced himself to ignore what his eyes were telling him. Not easy, since he had a moral objection to walking face-first into a stone wall.
Tingles rushed over his skin and the scenery blurred before they’d stepped through the magical barrier to reveal they were standing in a cramped tunnel.
Phyla continued forward, nearly scraping the unconscious Fallon against the jagged edge of the wall as the channel narrowed and curved. Cyn snapped his fangs, trembling with the effort not to snatch his princess from the bitch’s hand.
Soon, he silently promised himself.
Soon he would have his fangs buried deep in the druid’s throat and he would take exquisite pleasure in draining the life from the bastard.
Until then he would have to be patient.
A task easier said than done for a hedonistic berserker vampire.
Grimly reminding himself of the price of failure, he allowed Phyla to lead him to the deepest part of the cavern, the top of his head brushing the low ceiling before they at last came to a heavy steel door that blocked the tunnel.
Phyla used her free hand to shove open the door, revealing a small, barren space that had been roughly carved out of the rock.
Cyn hissed at the sight of the two vampires that were lying motionless in the center of the floor.
Styx and Viper.
But no Dante.
Thank God.
“Enter the cell,” Phyla commanded, allowing her hand to become engulfed in flame as Cyn hesitated. “Do it now or I burn the female.”
“Shit.” Cyn grudgingly bent down to step through the low opening, whirling to face Phyla with his fangs bared. “Where are you taking Fallon?”
“She will ensure your good behavior,” the demon informed him, slamming shut the door.
Shrouded in utter blackness, Cyn tilted back his head and
roared in fury.
Fallon remained limp with her eyes closed as the female demon carried her up the stairs that had been chiseled into the side of the wall.
She’d awakened shortly after they’d entered the caverns, but sensing the spell that was wrapped around her, she’d forced herself to feign sleep. Any attempt to free herself from the choking grasp would trigger the death magic.
Her only choice was to remain motionless and wait until the spell was removed. Then she could hopefully catch the demon off guard and escape.
Smoke filled her lungs as they reached a level surface. There was a fire near. And something else . . . blood.
She struggled not to react as the demon came to a halt and rudely dropped her onto the hard floor. Her head banged sharply against a rock, but it was worth the pain as she felt the spell being jerked away from her.
Before she could even think of launching an attack, however, there was the scent of an approaching human male.
“Shackle her to the wall and take your place in the Council Room,” the male commanded.
Shit. It had to be the druid.
Forced to maintain her charade, she was roughly yanked across the floor. If they believed her to be unconscious, they might leave her alone to . . .
That hope was brought to a brutal end as she felt a pair of iron shackles being snapped around her wrists.
Crap.
Iron was one thing that affected fey.
It not only dampened their magic, but it made it impossible for them to create a portal. And, with prolonged contact, it could even kill them.
Thankfully, as a Chatri, the effects were limited on her, but it would definitely make it more difficult to escape.
Because things just aren’t challenging enough, she wryly acknowledged.
She swallowed her groan of pain as the iron seared her skin, a heavy sense of lethargy spreading through her body. In the distance she heard the female demon leaving the cave, but instead of joining her, the druid contrarily crossed to stand next to her.
Dammit.
The scent of smoke and blood and foulness nearly gagged her as she felt the tip of a boot nudge her shoulder.
“Very convincing, my sweet.” The voice was cultured with just a hint of an Irish brogue. “But I know you’re awake.”
Snapping her eyes open, Fallon shoved herself into a seated position. If helpless didn’t work, then maybe she could try intimidation.
She tilted back her head, studying the man who hovered over her.
Surprise flared through her.
This was the deadly enemy who threatened to destroy the demon world?
He looked like a . . . nobody.
Just another human with a round face and fringe of brown hair.
Of course, she knew as well as anyone that appearances could be deceptive.
You didn’t have to be a hulking warrior to wield enormous power.
Just look at Siljar.
Shaking off her sense of disbelief, she forced herself to meet his cold gaze as she assumed her best princess manner.
“Release me,” she ordered, her voice ringing through the small cave as she took a swift, covert glance around the barren cave.
There wasn’t much to see except for the small altar in the center of the floor, but it was enough to make her heart clench with fear.
On top of the altar a fire was burning with a strange blue light.
Magic.
He was in the middle of casting his spell.
“A true Chatri,” the druid murmured, crouching down as he studied her with a mocking curiosity. Like she was some bug he’d captured and pinned to the wall. Sicko. “I was beginning to think you were a myth.”
She forced a cold smile to her lips. “There will be no mistake we are real when my father arrives.”
“Why should I fear your father?”
“He’s the King of Chatri.”
“Ah.” A shockingly intense hatred flared in his eyes. “So you’re a royal.”
Pure menace crawled over Fallon’s skin. This man not only wanted her dead. He wanted her to suffer.
She squashed the urge to panic. Cyn was depending on her.
Hell, the entire demon world was depending on her.
This was her chance to do that big, important thing she’d always dreamed of doing, she desperately told herself. The opportunity to make her life matter.
Right?
All she needed to do was to keep him distracted for a few minutes so she could gather her power.
“My father will kill you,” she said, scooting until her back was pressed against the wall and her hands draped to the side of her body to hide them from the creepy druid.
A human shouldn’t be able to see the glow of her powers, but he was clearly more than just another mortal.
“Demons are no match for me,” he boasted, thankfully too bloated with his own sense of self-importance to wonder at Fallon’s distraction. “Especially not that bastard Sariel. I hope he does come. I would dearly love to watch him die.”
Fallon barely listened to the idiot’s claims, instead focusing on her magic.
Usually it bubbled through her like vintage champagne. An intoxicating promise that she could tap into whenever necessary. Now it ran through her veins with a sluggish, growingly painful lethargy.
Damn.
There was no way she was going to be able to focus enough power to send a blast toward the druid.
To hurt him, she would actually need to touch him.
“You’re mad,” she muttered, her mind racing. She had to get him closer.
But how?
“The madness belongs to my forefathers,” he was saying, tiny spots of spittle spraying from his lips. “That’s the only excuse for them to have sold out the human race to a bunch of filthy fey.”
She hid her urge to shudder. What a pathetic, disgusting excuse for a human being.
“Why do you hate demons?”
“They have invaded our world, preying on us like we’re nothing more than mindless cattle,” he snarled.
Fallon continued to concentrate her power into her hands, silently cursing the iron that was searing into her flesh. Not only was the pain distracting, but it was making it almost impossible to gather enough magic to cause real damage.
“Why do you call it your world?” she asked, her voice laced with disdain. Maybe if she could make him angry enough he would be compelled to grab her. Like any petty bully he no doubt resorted to physical violence when he couldn’t mentally intimidate his opponent. “Demons were here long before humans began to walk upright.”
He sniffed, waving aside the truth of her accusation. “And now the time has come to claim it for our own.”
Her lips twisted. “So you’re doing this for humans?”
“Naturally.”
“And you have no interest in becoming some sort of messiah for your people?” she demanded.
A smug smile curved his lips as he tried to pretend a false modesty.
“The humans will need a leader and I’m not opposed to being worshiped.”
Oh . . . bleck.
Her hands warmed, a golden glow beginning to surround them. She pressed them beneath her leg.
“Have you considered what will happen once the demons are dead?”
He leaned forward, slowly enunciating his words. “Every. Day.”
He was close. So close. But still too far.
She flicked a dismissive glance down his pudgy form that was swathed in a rough, brown robe.
“Without demons your magic will die,” she taunted. “Do you think you’ll be worshiped if you’re just another human in a silly costume?”
“I have enough potions in storage to last for several centuries.” Without warning the feral hatred transformed into something even worse. Lust. Ew. She struggled not to cringe at the hot gaze that lowered to the swell of her breasts. “In fact, I have enough that I might be willing to share with a female who was willing to please me.”
r /> She flattened her lips, biting back her words of revulsion. If she couldn’t get him to touch in anger, then she’d settle for a horny grope.
“Really?” She tilted her head, allowing her hair to slide over one shoulder.
He licked his lips. “How long do you think you’ll last once the portals are closed?”
She shrugged, glancing beneath her lashes. It’s what her older sister, Dellicia, used to do and it always seemed to make the males take notice of her.
“A few weeks, perhaps months,” she murmured, dropping her voice until it was a husky whisper.
His gaze remained attached to her breasts. Had he never seen a pair before?
“I could prolong your life . . . at least for a while,” he said, his arrogance great enough that he assumed she would be willing to trade her body for a few measly days of life.
“If I pleased you,” she murmured.
He inched closer, his foul smell making her shudder. “You’re a very beautiful female.”
“Do you think so?” Her hands burned against the side of her leg, the magic ready to destroy the bastard just as soon as he got close enough. “I’m a demon.”
“My father seemed happy enough to bang a fey.” An ugly expression hardened his features. “In my mother’s bed. Maybe I should see what the fuss is about.”
Was that why he hated demons?
His father had a fey lover?
Ridiculous.
“What would you demand of me?” she forced herself to ask.
“Nothing too painful.” His gaze moved to her unmarred neck, perhaps seeking signs of Cyn’s feedings. Fallon felt her gut twist, wishing her neck did carry the mark of Cyn’s fangs. “Although a princess who chooses to take a vampire lover must enjoy it rough and dirty.”
“Sometimes.” A secret smile curved her lips as she recalled her berserker’s tenderness. It still amazed her that a warrior so large and fierce could touch her as if she were some fragile treasure. “Of course, I do like a man who can be . . .” She struggled for a provocative word. Dammit, why wouldn’t he touch her already? “Inventive. You’ll need to show me what you like.”
He sucked in a slow, shaky breath, his rounded cheeks flushed with his rising lust.
“You are a tempting witch.”
“Not witch . . . Chatri.” She touched the tip of her tongue to her lower lip. “Touch me.”