Devoured by Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #7)(15)

But the museum-quality perfection couldn’t erase the chill of evil that shrouded the building or make the beautiful Lady Havassy any less unnerving when she made her rare appearance.

It was said that the exquisitely beautiful woman with long dark curls and flashing black eyes that contrasted so sharply with her pale, pale skin was some sort of Hungarian nobility. The locals didn’t care where she came from, only that there had been a rash of disappearances since her arrival some ten years before.

More amused than concerned by the suspicions of the humans, Marika ran a hand through her glossy curls as she absently descended into the cellars deep beneath the city streets. She was wearing a thin, gauzy gown that emphasized her lush curves, but did nothing to battle the damp chill in the air. Not that it mattered. A vampire was as impervious to the weather as she was to nosy neighbors.

As she reached the cement floor, the torches flared to life and a tall man with silver hair that spilled halfway down his back approached from the shadows.

Most women would consider Sergei Krakov handsome. He had a narrow face with high Slavic cheekbones and icy blue eyes that held a cunning intelligence. His body was lean and muscular and at the moment covered in a fine Gucci suit in a pale shade of gray.

Marika, however, didn’t keep the mage around for his male beauty or for his taste in expensive clothing.

Allowing him to take her hand and lead her across the open room, she glanced through the window at the attached cell. She grimaced at the pretty young blonde who was chained to the wall.

The female’s head was slumped forward, her long curtain of hair covering her face. Her naked body was boneless, straining against the manacles that held her upright.

“Is she to your taste?” Sergei urged.

Marika tapped a crimson nail against the window, not particularly surprised when the woman remained in her comatose state. The bruises blooming on her pale skin revealed that Sergei had already taken his own pleasure.

“Did you break her?”

Sergei chuckled, no hint of apology on his lean face. “She might be a trifle damaged around the edges, but she still has some fight left in her.”

With a sound of disgust, Marika turned away, a hand pressed to her aching forehead.

“Perhaps later.”

Sergei hurried to her side, his arm wrapping around her shoulders.

“You must eat, Marika. You are too important to allow yourself to become weakened.” He made a shallow effort at concern. “Do you prefer a fey? Or maybe you’re in the mood for a harpy? They always scream so sweetly.”

“Enough, Sergei.” With a casual twist of her hand she had Sergei by the neck and was slamming him against the wall. “I’m not a child. If you want to fuss over someone return to your plaything.”

Sergei passively dangled from the fingers wrapped around his throat. He hadn’t survived several centuries as her favorite pet by being stupid.

Waiting until she’d regained control of her swift, gypsy temper and at last released him, Sergei smoothed his black satin tie and summoned an expression of concern that was almost convincing.

“Please, tell me what’s troubling you.”

With a hiss, she paced to the center of the floor, her hand again pressed to her temple.

“It’s her. She’s restless.”

Sergei didn’t need any further explanation.

There was only one her.

His brows snapped together. “Impossible.”

She narrowed her dark eyes. “Be careful how you speak to me. In my current mood I might just manage to forget I have need of you.”

He raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “I only meant that she is wrapped in layers of protective spells. A nuclear explosion couldn’t disturb her.”

“Maybe your spells are losing their …” She deliberately paused, her gaze lowering to his impressive pack age tucked into the Gucci slacks. “Potency. Do they have Viagra for magic? You’re growing old, after all.”

His lips curled with a pure male confidence. “There’s nothing wrong with my potency.”

“Then why is she whispering in my head?”

His cockiness faded as Marika allowed her power to sear into his skin with a brief, icy warning. It was ironic really. Her gift had once been to heal others. Since being turned, that same gift allowed her to torture with exquisite precision.

He nervously cleared his throat. “What is she saying?”

Marika’s pleasure in causing another pain was forgotten as she clenched her hands. She wasn’t sure when the provoking whispers had started. At first they had been so faint that she’d dismissed them. It wasn’t that unusual for her to sense Kata despite the numerous barriers that separated them.

Their connection was too intimate to be completely muted.

But over the past nights the distant buzz had become a desperate chant that refused to leave her in peace.

“Laylah,” she revealed. “Over and over again.”

“Laylah. A name?”

“How would I know?” she snapped.

“The two of you have always been close,” Sergei attempted to soothe. “You’re certain it has no meaning for you?”

She sank onto the divan, the heavy gold bangles that encircled her wrists shimmering in the torchlight.

“The bitch is obviously trying to drive me insane.”