Shadow's Claim (Immortals After Dark #13)(114)

Sadly she wasn’t expecting a sit-down with him anytime soon. He could be anywhere in the worlds.

Now Cas pointed out, “You’ll have Salem to keep you company when I leave.”

Though Bettina couldn’t turn Salem back into a regular phantom, she’d revoked his servitude to her, melted down his copper bell, and made him a partner. He was a full-fledged businessman, even now out negotiating her next commission. “Where will you go, Cas?”

“The Plane of Lost Years.”

That plane was a hell dimension of continual wars where time moved even more slowly than in Abaddon—because days stretched on endlessly in hell. “You wouldn’t go there. You can’t.”

Cas could experience years and years there, then return a day later.

“I need to go work this off. And get stronger.” Many Abaddonae went there to make kills and harvest power.

“I understand, but does it have to be there?”

His hand tightened on his mug. “I will do anything—anything—so that I may never know defeat like that again.”

“Please, just give this some time,” she said, but she knew he couldn’t continue on as he’d been doing.

“The people don’t accept me. I don’t accept me.” He wasn’t exaggerating; when Cas passed Abaddonae, they . . . spat in his path.

“Once we find the real poisoner, they’ll come around.”

“I’m sorry, Tina, I have to go.”

There was no changing his mind. At that realization, her eyes began to water. “When will you return?”

“Centuries, if that’s what it takes. So maybe a year in this time.” He forced a smile. “Wish me luck, friend.”

Sniffling, she whispered, “Good luck, Cas.”

He pressed a warm kiss to her forehead for long moments, then disappeared.

Caspion was venturing into hell, to risk his life repeatedly, all because of Daciano—the reserved, patient vampire who had turned madman.

Though she’d been expecting Cas to leave, it still hurt. And now she was all alone.

Alone on the balcony, up so high—in the dark? With an “imperfect” barrier spell?

She shrugged and took another drink. Since Daciano had left, she’d mastered her anxiety even more. She challenged herself constantly, and its hold on her continued to wane. Plus, she’d begun to believe in her ability to defeat it.

Greatness did reside in her, after all. But there was one other factor.

She was too heartbroken to feel much of anything besides sadness—least of all fear.

Trehan Daciano had broken her heart when he’d left her behind, to live a life without her in it.

After that, she just didn’t particularly care what happened to her.

Yes, these days Queen Bettina got what she wanted. Except for what she wanted most.

My vampire.





Though Trehan sat in his favorite chair with a book in hand, he couldn’t read it.

So he stared into the flames.

Just as before, he took pleasure in nothing. A shade with a stupefying existence. Over the last several weeks, his pain had proved so unflagging and pervasive that it had grown into a raw sort of numbness. . . .

For his service in helping to save Lothaire’s life, Trehan had been allowed back into Dacia. Perhaps he oughtn’t to have bothered. Away from Bettina, his mind had only gotten worse—concentration nil, reason and logic absent.

But his body had eventually recovered, and it hungered for hers without cease.

The whispers among the Daci resumed. Everyone knew he’d left their realm, found his otherlander Bride—only to be betrayed in some way by her—then returned.

Those whispers held that he was even worse of a shade than before. And they were right. About all of it.

“Take another female,” Viktor had advised, which just confirmed that he had not been blooded. Or else he’d know how ridiculous that sounded.

Bettina had awakened Trehan to experiences he never would have known. She’d given him life.

His body was hers, his seed was hers. He could never give either to another female.

They’d already been claimed. He had already been claimed. Then discarded.

Which left him alone, with a book in his lap, staring at the flames. . . .

“Good gloaming, Uncle!” Kosmina said as she traced into his sitting room. “I bring a message from Lothaire.”

The newly crowned—and completely unhinged—king of Dacia.

Lothaire had turned out to be a ruthless dictator, prone to rages, with alternating bouts of lunacy and lucidity—more of the latter now that he’d reconciled with his Bride. Indeed she had nearly decapitated Lothaire, by accident.

It’d taken Lothaire weeks to realize that. Before that epiphany, when he’d been separated from his Bride, he’d lashed out at his cousins, Trehan included.

At one point, Lothaire had clawed his own heart out of his chest and sent it to Elizabeth in a box.

Trehan laid his book aside and rose. “What does he want now?”

Of all the cousins, Trehan understood Lothaire best—because I’m dancing at the edge of sanity myself. Kosmina, however, liked Lothaire best. She thought he was exciting and misunderstood and believed his love affair with Elizabeth was the stuff of legend. “He’s summoned you to court.”