Darkness Unleashed (Guardians of Eternity #5)(4)

“Not mercy—it was a calculated decision,” he growled. “I knew if the need ever arose, he would prove an invaluable ally. Of course, I assumed that I would need him as a warrior, not as a babysitter for a young, vulnerable Were. I’m not entirely comfortable sending him on such a mission.”

Styx grasped the medallion that always hung about his neck, revealing he was not nearly as confident in his decision as he would have Viper believe.

“I need Regan found, and Jagr has the intelligence and skills that are best suited to track her and keep her safe. And he possesses an even more important quality.”

“It can’t be his sparkling personality.”

“No, it’s his intimate knowledge of the anguish Regan has suffered.” Styx regarded him with a somber expression. “He, better than any of us, will understand what Regan needs now that she has been freed from her tormentor.”

Chapter 1

The campground a few miles south of Hannibal, Missouri, was like any other campground.

Oversized RVs parked on the barren ground, a row of portable potties in the back, and a small shack near the front entrance where the humans paid for the privilege of being crammed next to people they wanted to throttle by the end of their vacation.

Regan Garrett knew all about the throttling thing firsthand.

Granted, she wasn’t human, but she had spent the majority of her life in one campground or another. They were breeding grounds for homicide.

Indifferent to the threat of impending mass murder, Regan swiftly jogged through the neat columns of RVs. She had deliberately waited until it was late enough that the old folks would have their dentures in a glass and their wrinkled asses in bed, while the younger parents would be comatose after a day of unrelieved suffering at the hands of their children.

Midnight in Hannibal, and not a creature was stirring.

Reluctantly, she turned to jog back toward the shack that had its door closed against the late March air. The chill didn’t trouble Regan, despite the fact she was wearing nothing more than a pair of jeans and a sleeveless knit top. She might not possess the ability to shift or procreate, but she did have most of the werewolf’s talents.

She was faster and stronger than humans, temperatures didn’t trouble her, she could see perfectly in the dark, and she had a remarkable ability to heal any wound not inflicted with silver.

Her feet briefly faltered. It was that ability to heal that had…

No. Not now.

She had to focus. She would grieve the past once Culligan was dead.

For the past ten hours she’d been on the imp’s trail, following his scent from St. Louis to the edge of Hannibal. She could almost taste her revenge when his trail mysteriously vanished on the outskirts of town. She didn’t know how the son of a bitch had managed to disappear into thin air, but it wasn’t going to stop her.

One way or another, she was finding the man who had held her captive for the past thirty years, and paying him back a hundredfold.

Not bothering to knock, Regan shoved open the door to the shack and stepped in. It was a cramped space, the walls covered with glossy pamphlets proclaiming all the wondrous sights to see in Hannibal, and one narrow window that overlooked the park.

At first glance the place looked empty, but Regan didn’t miss the cigarette smoke that hung in the air. Moving to the Formica counter at the far end of the room, she banged on the small silver bell.

There was the muffled sound of cursing, then a door behind the counter was shoved open, and a shaggy head poked out.

“Yeah?” The boy, who couldn’t have been more than eighteen, with a nose too big for his narrow face, stiffened as his pale eyes skimmed over Darcy’s long, golden blond hair and down her slender body. Slowly they lifted to study the green eyes that dominated her pale heart-shaped face. A goofy smile curved his lips as he stepped into the room and leaned against the counter. “Helloooo. What’s up?”

“I’m looking for a friend.”

“You just found him, doll. Give me ten minutes to lock up, and I’m all yours.”

As if.

Regan resisted the urge to smash the overlarge nose, barely. Instead, she pulled out the folded page she had ripped from a magazine before leaving St. Louis.

“Have you seen an RV that looks like this?”

The kid barely glanced at the picture. “Do I look like that freak from Monk? I take the money, I give them a card to put on their dash, and that’s the end of it. I don’t give a shit what their RV looks like.”

“You would have noticed this one. The driver has long red hair and eyes like a cat. He’s very…distinctive.”

“There’s no one here who doesn’t have gray hair and dentures.” The boy shuddered. “I have nightmares that one day I’ll look out there and nothing will be left but corpses and rotting RVs.”

“Charming.”

The goofy smile widened. “You could take my mind off the nasty geriatrics and their imminent death. I have a cot in the back.”

Regan once again eyed the protruding beak. Targets didn’t come more tempting. Unfortunately, she couldn’t afford to attract attention. Humans always made such a fuss over bit of blood and a few broken bones.

“Not even if you came giftwrapped,” she muttered, turning to leave.

“Hey…”

Whatever he had to say was cut off as Regan slammed the door and jogged toward the nearby road leading into Hannibal.