Beyond the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #6)(96)

“What’s the plan?”

“You release the curs and get them out of here.”

“While you battle Briggs by yourself?”

He shrugged. “It has always been inevitable.”

“No, it’s not…”

“Si, it is.” He framed her face in his hands. “I have to do this, Harley. And I need to know that Hess and the others are far enough away that Briggs can’t gain control of them.”

She wanted to argue. It was insanity for Salvatore to confront Briggs alone. The Were was not only Hannibal-Lecter-nuts, but he was already dead. How the hell did you kill a zombie?

But in the end she bit back her words.

This wasn’t just Salvatore’s macho need to prove his superiority over the other male.

Briggs hadn’t just been an enemy to Salvatore. He had violated the entire Were nation with his bargain with the demon lord. And he’d come far too close to destroying them all.

As king, it was Salvatore’s duty to make sure the traitor suffered the ultimate punishment.

“Fine.”

He brushed one last kiss over her lips. “Take the curs back to the church. I’ll join you there once I’m certain Briggs is dead.”

Salvatore barely waited for Harley to disappear into the shadows before efficiently stripping off his expensive suit. He had every confidence in her ability to free the curs and lead them to safety.

Even if she did want to give him a black eye.

It wasn’t the first, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last time he annoyed her.

The gods willing.

His smile faded as he shifted into wolf form and silently padded toward the cabin.

He wasn’t going to underestimate Briggs. The Were was a flaming nutcase, but he had to know he was no match for Salvatore without his demon lord to hide behind. Which meant he must be confident that whatever trap he had set was capable of destroying Salvatore.

Circling the cabin, Salvatore allowed his superior animal senses to search the area for any hint of danger.

Predictably, the presence of werewolves had frightened off the local wildlife, and the nearest human was miles away, but there were a few lesser demons in the vicinity. A pack of hellhounds sniffing through the underbrush. A tree sprite dancing through the branches. A distant hag.

Nothing that could offer a threat.

Which meant that Briggs’s trap must be magical.

Naturalmente. The worthless hound wouldn’t recognize a code of honor if it bit him on the ass.

Accepting there was nothing physical to battle, Salvatore shifted back to human, moving through the overgrown backyard to peer through a window.

He could see a small kitchen with a worn linoleum floor and cabinets that had once been painted a hideous yellow. The appliances had been removed or stolen, leaving behind broken pipes and exposed wires.

Salvatore grimaced. Even without Briggs, the place was a deathtrap. He could only hope that the electricity had been turned off.

As if on cue, a bloom of candlelight filled the front room beyond the kitchen, revealing a battered sofa and matching chair that was the only furniture. Although it would be generous to label the rotting pieces of junk as furniture. More a post-apocalyptic nightmare.

His eyes narrowed as the shadowed outline of a cloaked figure was suddenly visible. Briggs. How convenient. Just the sleazeball he’d been looking for.

Climbing the back steps, Salvatore kicked in the door and rapidly crossed through the empty kitchen. If there was a trap, then so be it. Tiptoeing through the place wasn’t going to help.

He made it into the front room, headed straight for Briggs, when the expected snare was at last tripped.

A cold breeze prickled over his naked body, then invisible bonds wrapped around him, slamming him into the wall with enough force to shake chunks of plaster from the ceiling.

Salvatore grunted in pain, but he didn’t panic.

Briggs might be able to conjure a portion of his black magic, but his strength had to be failing with the death of the demon lord, while Salvatore’s power had never been greater.

Proving his point, Briggs pushed back the hood of his cloak, revealing his face that was barely more than a skull, with drooping bits of gray flesh and a set of crimson eyes that glittered with a rabid hatred. Cristo. Salvatore had stumbled across genuine zombies who looked better than this Were.

And the stench…Salvatore shuddered in disgust.

“You just never learn, do you, Salvatore?” Briggs taunted, strolling to stand directly before Salvatore.

“It’s not a matter of learning.” Ignoring the pain, Salvatore managed a smile. “I simply don’t fear you.”

Fury flashed over the Were’s emaciated face before he managed to regain his smug composure.

“I knew that arrogance would be your downfall.”

Salvatore shrugged. “It might be eventually, but not tonight.”

Briggs halted directly in front of him. “We’ll see about that.”

“What are you going to do, Briggs? Your master is gone, and without his powers you don’t have a chance in hell of beating me.”

The Were laughed, waving a hand toward Salvatore’s body pinned to the wall.

“Obviously I’m not without resources.”

“You can’t hold me here indefinitely. So, unless you have another demon lord tucked in the cellar, you’re screwed.” His eyes narrowed. “I do have one question.”