Darkness Everlasting (Guardians of Eternity #3)(85)

With a squeak of surprise, Levet looked at her as if she had lost her mind.

"Darcy?"

"Something's not right," she breathed, pressing her hands against the door as the vampires on the other side struggled to break through.

"No shit," Levet muttered, moving to add his own strength to the shivering door. "You must run. This door won't last long."

"No way."

He gave a low curse. "Martyrs are tedious creatures, Darcy. Get the hell out of here."

Darcy gritted her teeth and dug in her heels as she battled next to Levet to hold the door shut. She didn't think for a minute that she could face off against two vampires and survive. Hell, she didn't think she could manage to land a good punch. But she wasn't about to run off and leave Levet.

"I don't bail on my friends," she muttered as the wood shuddered beneath her hands. Soon enough the door would shatter and then the fun would begin.

With his arms bulging beneath the strain, the demon glared into her determined expression.

"Sane bleu, vampires cannot hurt me if I shift. Not even their fangs are sharp enough to chew through stone."

He had a point. A damn good point, but Darcy was nothing if not stubborn.

"I won't leave you."

"You're only in my way." Levet gave a grunt as a hinge popped from the door and flew a mere inch from his face. "I have several spectacular spells I have been longing to cast, but I can hardly perform them while you are standing here watching me."

"Why not?"

He sent her a glance filled with grim warning. "Performance issues. Just go."

A subtle glow began to surround the small gray form and Darcy forced herself to back away. She still had vivid memories of the spectacular explosion that had ripped through the air when she had been sneaking into the estate. If Levet had anything of that sort of magic in mind, then she had to agree that she didn't want to be anywhere near when things started shaking.

And in all honesty, if she was gone, then Levet would be free to turn into statue form. As he had pointed out, not even vampires could harm him once he shifted to stone.

Ignoring the sharp pang of guilt, Darcy turned on her heel and headed for the window. With the door blocked by rabid vampires, the window was the only exit. Besides, what quicker method of getting downstairs to alert Abby that her home was harboring traitors.

Crossing her arms over her head, Darcy hit the window with a burst of speed that launched her through the glass and into the frigid night air. She grunted as jagged shards ripped through her skin, but her attention was far more focused on the hard ground that was rapidly rising up to meet her. Cuts and bruises, no matter how deep, she could heal in a matter of hours. A broken neck .. . not so much.

Flailing her limbs as if she could fly—not a talent generally associated with werewolves—Darcy did manage to twist enough in the air so that she ended up landing on her back, rather than her head. A small comfort, though, since the landing punched the air from her lungs and sent a shock of pain through her body.

Gripes.

With a moan she forced herself to rise to her feet. It was a surprise to discover she could actually accomplish the task. She was bleeding from a dozen wounds, bruised beyond bearing, and her head was pounding, but she didn't seem to have one broken bone or busted internal organ.

The night was looking up.

Glancing toward the house, she was on the point of deciding where the nearest door might be when there was the faintest sound behind her.

She whirled about quite prepared for anything to charge out of the dark.

Vampire, werewolf, holy deity . . .

Lions and tigers and bears.

Tensing as she prepared to deal with the latest disaster, Darcy felt her mouth fall open as a slender woman walked from behind an ancient oak.

Despite the cloaking darkness, Darcy had no trouble making out the silver blond hair that swirled about her shoulders and the green eyes that held an unmistakable glow.

Pure shock held her motionless as the woman moved with a liquid grace to stand directly before her.

This was a moment Darcy had dreamed of every night for the past thirty years.

It was her most secret hope come to life.

Now she struggled to accept that this could possibly be real.

"Mother?" she at last whispered in disbelief.

"Yes, darling, I am indeed your mother." A smile touched the features that were so eerily like her own.

"How very thoughtful of you to drop at my feet. It saves me a great deal of effort."

"What..."

Utterly bemused Darcy never saw her mother moving. Not even when her arm lifted.

It wasn't until her fist actually connected with Darcy's chin that she realized that sometimes dreams and reality were not always the same.

Darcy tumbled back onto the cold, frozen ground as the waiting darkness flooded her mind.

Yeah, reality was a bitch.

Chapter Twenty-One

Pointing his finger directly at the heart of his enemy, Styx could feel the air crackle with the frozen blaze of his fury.

In the distance he could sense the sharp agitation of the circling vampires, could smell their unease, and hear the sound of fingers tightening on the crossbows.

None of that mattered.

The world had narrowed to the gaunt vampire who stood directly before him.

A vampire who had lost his smug smile and was regarding Styx with a new wariness.