Devoured by Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #7)(67)

Like it or not, Laylah was a principium and if he tried to screw with fate the Oracles would have him hanging by his balls and Laylah would be left on her own.

Or worse than alone, he silently corrected as the ridiculous gargoyle crashed through the underbrush, his wings flapping and his eyes wide as he was chased by two tall pursuers.

“By my father’s stone balls,” the tiny demon gasped, “who invited the Sylvermyst to the party?”

Tane shifted into a fighter’s stance, the dagger held loosely in his hand as he watched the warriors approach.

They looked like fey.

Tall and lithe with long hair in varying shades of red and gold. All of them were dressed in jeans and Tshirts, no doubt hoping to avoid unwanted attention from the humans.

A wasted effort.

Generic jeans and Tshirts didn’t disguise the liquid grace of their movements or the perfection of their faces that could never belong to a mere mortal.

Oh, and of course there were the enormous crossbows that were currently pointed in his direction.

Dead giveaway.

A swift count revealed four Sylvermyst approaching from the east and two more from the south.

Too many to defeat without risking a wooden arrow through the heart.

“Make yourself useful, gargoyle,” he commanded.

Levet sniffed, but thankfully he lifted his hands and pointed them toward the advancing Sylvermyst.

“Watch in wonder, vampire.”

There was a sputter of sparkles that shimmered in the air before they fell harmlessly to the ground. Just his luck.

The gargoyle was shooting blanks.

Accustomed to fighting impossible odds without backup, Tane charged toward the two nearest attackers, taking an arrow in his shoulder and another in his upper chest before he was near enough to grab the first Sylvermyst and rip open his throat.

The potent taste of fairy blood slid down his throat. Not the sparkling sweetness of most fey, but a dark explosion of power that burned a path to his gut.

Sucking the bastard dry, he stuck a dagger into the fey’s heart and gave it a twist before tossing him to the ground and reaching for his partner.

The second fey had already dropped his crossbow and reached for the sword strapped to his back.

Tane ducked as the blade swiped a mere inch above his head. Wisely he kept low as he took out the warrior’s legs and drove him hard into the ground.

The Sylvermyst spoke in a language that grated harshly on Tane’s ears, but even as the words formed Tane was slicing his throat.

He wasn’t in the mood to be hexed or cursed or hit with any other nasty spell.

Once assured there weren’t going to be any surprises, Tane kicked the sword out of the fey’s hand and efficiently cut out his heart.

The eyes, a strange, metallic shade of copper, widened in shock. As if he hadn’t expected to be killed by an enraged vampire.

Fool.

With the two nearest warriors dispatched, Tane grabbed the Sylvermyst’s sword and straightened. If the magic filling the air wasn’t screwing with his senses there were plenty more where those came from.

He was kicking aside the nearest corpse to make sure it didn’t impede his movements when the explosion rocked the ground from beneath his feet.

He flowed upright, his startled gaze sweeping his surroundings.

The trees in front of him were flattened, the massive trunks still smoking, and the dirt that filled the air settling on top of them.

More impressive, the four fey who had been approaching were now scattered across the ground in a dozen different pieces.

“Holy mother …” he breathed, tugging out the arrows stuck in his flesh. Levet’s wings flapped in embarrassment. “Oops.”

Oops?

The gargoyle had released the equivalent of a minor nuclear bomb and all he said was “oops"?

“I said make yourself useful, not cataclysmic,” he snapped, terrified by the knowledge that Laylah was somewhere in the trees and that she could easily have been harmed.

“Hey, I do not critique your battle techniques,” the tiny gargoyle protested.

The ridiculous squabble was brought to a thankful end as Laylah appeared behind them, holding a small child in her arms.

He grimaced at the protective ward that surrounded the baby. Despite being transparent it visibly shifted, distorting and obscuring the image of the child. He doubted even Laylah had ever had a clear view of what she was carrying around.

Not that she seemed to give a damn.

His heart clenched with an odd ache as her expression softened and she cradled the baby against her with maternal care.

Her short, crimson hair was mussed. Her jeans and T-shirt were marred with grass stains. And there was a streak of dirt on her cheek.

And she’d never looked more content.

Unaware of his fascination, she lifted her head, the tender expression hardened as she glanced toward the charred trees decorated with bits and pieces of Sylvermysts.

“Gods.” She shuddered. “Where did they come from?”

Levet waddled toward her, his gaze taking a cautious inventory of the child in her arms.

He wasn’t as stupid as he looked.

Tane couldn’t sense the stasis spell that bound the baby, but he was wise enough to give it a wide berth.

“I don’t know where they came from,” the gargoyle said, “but I know who they’re traveling with.”