Bound By Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #8)(46)

The spirit’s smug expression faltered as he belatedly sensed Tearloch’s annoyance.

“No, this is the work of your new allies.”

“Allies?” Tearloch growled in outrage. “What allies?”

“Our master comprehends how truly important the child is to his future.” Rafael spoke slowly, as if considering his words with care. “He has called his followers to assist us in protecting the babe.”

Tearloch felt his throat tighten and his head throb at the smooth explanation. Was it possible the Dark Lord now talked directly to the wizard? Or was this a trick?

Either possibility was enough to make his stomach cramp with dread.

“And so you plotted behind my back?”

Rafael attempted to appear properly shocked at the allegation. “Certainly not.”

“Then how did you know of these so-called allies while I was left in the dark?”

“His Lordship finds it easier to communicate with those of us who have a direct connection to the underworld. He assured me that he would call upon his disciples to offer us whatever we might need to succeed.”

Tearloch pressed his palms to his aching temples, pacing across the cavern.

The fog in his mind made it difficult to think, but he knew he didn’t like the threat of unknown demons becoming involved in his business.

Disciples of the Dark Lord were by nature untrustworthy creatures who had traded their souls to evil. They would betray and destroy Tearloch at the first opportunity.

He turned back to glare at Rafael. “And you didn’t think it was necessary to share that information with me?”

“There seemed no purpose in bothering you with the small details.”

Tearloch lifted his hand, pointing it toward the spirit. Plainly, Rafael needed a reminder of who was in charge.

“No purpose?”

“You have more important matters to occupy your mind.” A smarmy smile curved the wizard’s lips. “It is best that you allow me to—”

Tearloch clenched his hand and jerked it downward, the motion helping him focus on his intangible connection to the spirit.

On cue Rafael was jerked to his knees, a satisfying fear twisting his too-thin face.

“I will decide what’s best,” he snarled. “Or have you forgotten who is in command here, Rafael?”

“No, Master.”

He gave another twist of his hand, and the arrogant ass was pressing his forehead against the stone floor.

“I think maybe you have. Which would be a lethal mistake.”

“I merely wish to be of service.”

Tearloch hissed in disgust. Gods, he hated the wizard. Almost as much as he hated the knowledge that he couldn’t return the sleazy worm back to hell where he belonged, no matter how much he might want to.

Why had he ever started this madness?

“You’re an arrogant prick who would betray me in a heartbeat if I was stupid enough to give you the opportunity,” he said between gritted teeth. “Which I thankfully am not.”

Rafael’s fingers dug into the stone floor, but he was not stupid enough to make the move for an open revolt.

At least not yet.

“What do you want of me?”

“Tell me of our new allies.”

“I can show you.”

Tearloch childishly continued to squash Rafael’s face into the floor. The spirit couldn’t be physically hurt, but he could be humiliated. Something far worse for a man with Rafael’s swollen pride.

At last he unclenched his hand and stepped back. “Fine. Show me.”

The wizard rose to his feet, his fingers twitching as if he was barely restraining the urge to launch a spell in Tearloch’s direction. Instead he wisely smoothed his rumpled robes and with rigid composure moved back to the shallow pool of water.

He waved his hand, murmuring soft words. Then, lifting his head, he gestured for Tearloch to join him.

“Our allies, as you commanded, Master.”

Tearloch moved to peer in the water, not at all comforted by the vision of a tall, slender man with short black hair slicked from his lean face. Dressed in a designer suit and glossy wingtip shoes, he might have been a banker.

But Tearloch didn’t miss the pale, too-perfect features and the dull, emptiness in the black eyes.

Dead eyes.

“A vampire?” he hissed.

“Not only a vampire, but one that possesses skills beyond most,” Rafael corrected, as if the leech’s extra mojo would make him less offensive to Tearloch.

“What does that mean?”

“He is an Immortal One.”

“I thought they were all immortal?”

“There are a few vampires who left this world to form their own clan,” the wizard explained in overly patient tones. “They developed very unique talents that I believe will be of use to you.”

“The talent to create zombies?”

“No, he has two curs as companions, as well as a witch,” Rafael grudgingly confessed. “One of the curs is a magic-user.”

A vampire with juiced powers, two curs (one of them a magic-user), and an extra witch tossed into the bargain?

That was enough firepower to easily overwhelm his handful of Sylvermyst.

“Damn you, this is a trap.”

Rafael held up a soothing hand. “No, I swear.”