Fear the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #9)(57)

He knew what was troubling him.

After following the Dark Lord’s commands to protect the wizard spirit, he’d then returned to the mists along with Dolf. He perhaps shouldn’t have been surprised to discover the master had been resurrected into the child. But he’d been frankly unnerved by the sight of the powerful deity in the body of a teenage girl.

Thankfully, he’d concealed his growing apprehension—unlike Dolf, who had managed to incur the anger of the Dark Lord—long enough to escape out of the mists.

There was no way he was going to hang around to bear the brunt of the Dark Lord’s frustration when he couldn’t use his new body to return to the world. Drained or not, she was still powerful enough to turn Gaius into a puddle of screaming pain.

Now he was left to stew in his own doubts, caught between the urgent need to hear from the Dark Lord so they could finish their deal and he could demand the return of his beloved mate, and a growing desire to be forgotten by the evil bastard. Or rather . . . the evil bitch.

Sensing the approach of a male cur, Gaius was careful to mask his emotions as he slowly turned to watch Dolf step into the room. In the candlelight the dog was looking distinctly worse for the wear.

In the past two weeks his hair had grown past the buzz cut and had acquired several streaks of gray. Worse, he’d dropped nearly fifty pounds, leaving his face gaunt and his stomach sunken.

Not at all the cocky mutt that Gaius had first met just a month ago. But then again, they’d all lost a bit of their cock.

“You disposed of the body?” he demanded.

Dolf nodded, his eyes glittering with a hectic light. The cur was hanging on to his sanity by a thread. A thin thread.

“It’s rotting deep in the swamp with all the others.” His lips curved in a gruesome imitation of a smile. “You have quite a collection out there. Thirteen, isn’t it?”

Gaius stiffened. He didn’t like being reminded of the whores that he’d killed over the past few nights. Not because of his conscience. That had died along with Dara. But it was a nasty reminder of his loss of control.

It was happening far too frequently.

“Don’t presume to judge me.” His words were coated in ice. “My hungers are instinct, not a perversion of nature like some I could name.”

Dolf snorted, indifferent to Gaius’s disdain. “Hell, I don’t care if you drain every whore from here to Timbuktu, but the locals are starting to get itchy about the girls who’ve gone missing. Unless you want an angry mob, complete with torches and pitchforks, on our doorstep, you might want to dial back on your feedings.” He paced to study the books that lined the shelves. “Or at least import your meals from farther away.”

Gaius narrowed his gaze. “Is there a reason you’ve intruded into my privacy?”

There was a long silence, as if Dolf was considering his words. Never a good thing. Then slowly he turned to meet Gaius’s rigid expression. “Do you think it’s odd we haven’t heard from the master?”

Gaius hissed. The question had, of course, been nagging at the edge of his mind. But he was smart enough to know it was too dangerous to speak aloud.

“She will contact us when she needs our services,” he said stiffly.

“Are you so certain?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Dolf ’s humorless laugh echoed through the silent house. “Our last mission was yet another epic failure.”

Gaius shrugged. “The wizard was to blame for bringing the Hunter and Sylvermyst into the master’s lair. It wasn’t our fault.”

Dolf shuddered, still obviously traumatized by their time spent in the master’s company. “Yeah, well, the wizard is dead and the Dark Lord is still trapped,” the cur unnecessarily pointed out. “She might have decided to spread the blame around.”

“We would know if she’d decided to punish us for the latest disaster,” Gaius said with a grimace. “She’s never subtle.”

Dolf nodded, but his brow remained furrowed. “If you say.”

Gaius rolled his eyes. He could send the cur away, but Dolf would only return until he’d said whatever was on his tiny mind. “Now what’s bothering you?”

The cur hunched his shoulders. “To be honest, I preferred the thought that we’re being punished.”

Gaius frowned. “As opposed to what?”

“Have you considered the possibility that the Dark Lord hasn’t contacted us because . . .”

His words trailed away and Gaius made a sound of impatience. “Cristo, just say it.”

“Because she can’t.”

Gaius cursed, instinctively glancing around the seemingly empty room. Even if the Dark Lord was trapped in another dimension, he—or rather she—had spies everywhere.

“You are a fool,” he hissed.

“Perhaps, but I would be even more of a fool to spend the next century waiting in this godforsaken swamp for a master who has already lost the war,” Dolf grimly pressed, too far gone in his growing madness to consider the danger.

“What do you suggest?” Gaius asked, the ice in his voice warning he wouldn’t be coaxed into an indiscretion. His growing doubts would go with him to the grave. “That we abandon the Dark Lord and pray she doesn’t manage to escape her prison?”