Fear the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #9)(30)

Being a hostage to a demon lord meant that she’d spent the majority of her life in dank caves. On occasion, she was allowed a television or books to help pass the time, but for the most part she’d had to endure endless days with nothing but her visions to distract her.

Still, it took all of her skill to urge the testy Caine out of the tunnel, using her strength to boost him up and then over the garbage bin. And then, ignoring his snappish complaints that he wasn’t an invalid, she’d managed to wrestle him to the waiting Jeep, loading him into the passenger seat before sliding behind the steering wheel.

Trying to hide the lingering weakness from his injuries, Caine wiped the sweat from his brow and sent her a frustrated glare. “What are you doing?”

She hid her smile. He wouldn’t be in such a foul mood if he weren’t healing.

When he’d first collapsed at her feet she’d been frantic with fear. What if he’d been killed trying to protect her? The mere thought had been like a brutal punch to her gut.

She couldn’t bear the loss.

It was that simple.

Wrenching her thoughts away from the destructive memory, Cassie instead turned to the task at hand. Whether he liked it or not, Caine was still weak and it was going to be up to her to take charge.

“I’m going to get us out of here,” she said, nibbling her bottom lip as she concentrated on locating the key that Caine always kept hidden beneath the floor mat and sticking it into the ignition.

“Can you drive?” Caine demanded.

The engine roared to life and she studied the knobby thing that she recalled she had to pull down to allow the vehicle to move forward.

“How hard can it be?”

“Shit,” he muttered. “Just wait. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

She managed to get into gear and pressed gently on the gas pedal, holding the steering wheel in a death grip as they eased down the dark, empty street.

“What if we were followed?”

“There was a masking spell that should have dampened our scent,” he said, his hand reaching to brace on the glove box as she began to pick up speed. “Besides, whatever is chasing us can’t be any more dangerous than you behind the wheel.”

“Very funny. I happen to be doing just fine, so sit there and be quiet.” She sent him a chiding glare, only to have her moment of victory ruined as the wheels hit the curb and they took out a stop sign. “Oops.”

“I guess we’re about to find out if I’m truly immortal.”

With a sniff, she turned her attention back to the road. “Keep it up and I’ll kick your naked butt out. Maybe Ingrid and her creepy twin will stop by and pick you up.”

He made a sound of disgust, but obviously accepting he was in no position to complain, he instead pointed toward the side street. “Turn left here.”

Cassie followed his direction, keeping her speed slow but steady as they headed out of the fringes of St. Louis. Soon they left all signs of town behind, traveling down a gravel road that was flanked by cornfields.

An hour later Cassie was wondering if she’d bitten off more than she could chew. She hadn’t wrecked, thank the gods, but her muscles were cramped from her nervous tension and her fingers were aching from gripping the steering wheel so tightly.

“How much farther?”

“Not far,” Caine assured her. “Take a right at that mailbox.”

She slowed, turning onto a narrow path that was rough and nearly overgrown with weeds. “Where are we going?”

He straightened in his seat, his power sizzling through the air to assure her that he was nearly fully recovered from his battle. “I have a hidden lair just a few miles north of here.”

“How many lairs do you have?”

It spoke of his trust in her that he didn’t even hesitate to answer. “A dozen spread across North America and another six in Mexico.”

She blinked. That seemed . . . excessive. “Why so many?”

“I always knew that Salvatore would eventually stumble across my trail,” he said with a shrug. “I needed to be able to disappear no matter where I was.”

Wise, of course. Being hunted by the King of Weres was a lethal sport. Still, she couldn’t resist teasing him. “Always prepared?”

“That’s my motto. Just like a Boy Scout.”

She snorted. “I can’t imagine you were ever a Boy Scout.”

“No,” he readily agreed, “but there was a time when I aspired to become an altar boy.”

“An altar boy?” She couldn’t disguise her shock. “You?”

“I had a life before I was turned into a cur, you know,” he said dryly.

She kept her gaze trained on the narrow path, hoping that nothing darted out of the thick underbrush that had replaced the cornfields. “Tell me.”

He tensed at her request. “It was so long ago I barely remember.”

Cassie hesitated. She might be socially inept, but not even she could miss the I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-this vibe he was sending out. Which, of course, only made her more determined to discover what he was hiding. “Where were you born?”

She heard his faint sigh. “In the gutters of Paris in the year 1787.”

“Paris?” She sent him a startled glance. “Really?”