Bound By Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #8)(21)

Sergei gave a restless shrug. “I’m not a lunatic. Marika convinced me that resurrecting the Dark Lord would bring us both the power we craved, but I’ve discovered that such powers come at a price I’m no longer willing to pay.”

“Convenient,” Ariyal taunted.

“Actually it couldn’t be more inconvenient,” the mage snapped.

Ariyal didn’t hesitate. “Then give me the child and you won’t have to worry about the Dark Lord.”

“Right. And how long do you think I would survive without the child as protection? If you didn’t kill me then Tearloch most certainly would.”

“We could keep you alive,” Jaelyn smoothly offered, not at all surprised when Ariyal sent her a smoldering glare.

“Speak for yourself,” he rasped. “I have no reason to keep this spineless coward from his long-overdue grave. In fact, I’ve waited a long time to rid the world of his infection.”

“Ariyal ... shit.” Jaelyn moved with blinding speed toward the windows that overlooked the damp street, her senses on full alert. A swift glance was enough to discover the shadows that were moving through the front gate toward the portico. “It looks like your tribesman found reinforcements.”

Ariyal cursed. “How many?”

“I count six—no wait, seven Sylvermysts including Tearloch. And ...” Jaelyn gave a shake of her head as the shadows disappeared from view as they entered the townhouse.

Even out of sight her Hunter instincts could detect the heat of their bodies as they silently moved through the bottom floors, clearly searching for intruders. She could smell the distinct scent of herbs that revealed they were Sylvermysts and the hormones that marked them as male. But there was a strange ... emptiness, was the only way she could explain it, that was swiftly traveling in their direction.

“What?” Ariyal prompted.

She turned back to the Sylvermyst, her hand reaching for her shotgun only to come up empty. Dammit. She was getting a new weapon and hell would freeze over before Ariyal would take it away again.

“I don’t know what it is,” she admitted through clenched teeth.

Ariyal paused, allowing his own powers to search the house. “Tearloch.” His face was grim as he met Jaelyn’s wary gaze. “He’s called a spirit.”

“Can it hurt us?”

“Tearloch has a talent for raising the most powerful souls.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” she muttered, glancing back toward the window. “We need to get out of here.”

“Not without the child.”

“For God’s sake.” She turned back, not surprised to find his beautiful features set in stubborn lines. “Have you ever heard the phrase ‘live to fight another day’?”

“Have you ever heard of ‘not putting off ’til tomorrow what you can do today’?” he countered, giving a tiny wave of the bow. “Get the child, Sergei.”

The mage shook his head, backing until he hit a cherry-wood armoire set in the corner of the nursery.

“No, I can’t.”

Ariyal shrugged. “Then I’ll kill you.”

“Better an arrow through the heart than what the Dark Lord’s minions will do,” Sergei choked out.

Ariyal hid a wry smile as he watched Jaelyn’s struggle against her desire to rip out his throat.

Or maybe it was his heart.

Whichever, she somehow managed to overcome her bloodlust. The question was ... why?

He was powerful, but if she truly wanted him dead, or even captured and hauled to the Oracles, there wasn’t much he could do to stop her.

Which only made him all the more curious what the hell she was doing there. And what she intended to do with him when she grew tired of her game.

Worries for another day, he was forced to accept as a dark mist floated through the wall and moved to hover next to the crib.

Lowering the bow that would be useless against the spirit, he watched as the mist solidified into the shape of a tall, sparse man with gaunt features and shaved head who appeared to be covered in a satin robe with a heavy silver pendant hung about his neck.

The spirit reached a thin hand toward the sleeping child. “Ah, the anointed one.”

His voice rumbled through the air, bringing with it the foul scent of the netherworld.

Ariyal stepped forward, but he was abruptly distracted as the mage moved at the same time, his thin face hard with revulsion.

“Rafael.” He breathed the name as if it was a curse.

The spirit slowly lifted his head, glancing toward the mage. Amusement seemed to flutter over the gaunt features before his lips twisted into a sneer.

“It is Master Rafael to you, mage.”

“No wizard is my master,” Sergei hissed.

Ariyal shifted to keep an eye on the two magical buffoons as well as Jaelyn, who was clearly unnerved by the sight of the spirit.

“You two acquainted?” he drawled.

“Our paths have crossed,” Sergei spat out, his gaze never leaving Rafael. “But while I am a true magic-user, he has given his soul to the Dark Lord.”

Ariyal arched a brow. “And you?”

The spirit released a low laugh that sent a shudder down Ariyal’s spine. Working with spirits had never been his talent and he rarely used his powers to draw the ghosts from the netherworld. Especially not one with the strength that he could sense pulsing about the dead wizard.