Fear the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #9)(61)

“You don’t trust me?” Kostas sneered.

“I don’t trust anyone.”

“Neither do I. How do I know you won’t double cross me?” Kostas tilted his chin to a belligerent angle. “And believe me, I’ll know if you’re lying.”

Oh, Gaius believed him.

The same rumors that whispered of a Hunter’s ability to cloak himself in shadows, also hinted that they could smell a lie a mile off. Not that it mattered. If it came to the point he had to lie to the miserable SOB he would just kill him.

“My command is to take the babe to the Dark Lord,” he said. “Do you truly think I would defy our master?”

Kostas didn’t look happy, but he knew this was a battle he wasn’t going to win.

“We’ll meet at my current lair,” he muttered. “It’s fifty miles west of here in a small town called Platte. The entrance is at the back of the old quarry. Knock before you enter or you might find yourself in a nasty trap.”

“I’ll be there before dawn.” Gaius grimaced, his gaze returning to the mansion where he could sense over a dozen powerful demons. “Always assuming I survive.”

“And Styx?” Kostas demanded.

“What about him?”

“I was promised he would be given to me.”

Gaius shrugged. “That’s between you and the Dark Lord.”

“I’d better not be disappointed,” Kostas warned, abruptly disappearing in a shroud of shadows.

“That, my friend, is almost guaranteed,” Gaius muttered, clutching his medallion as he studied the best place to make his grand appearance in the Anasso’s lair.

Styx was pacing the carpet in his study, wishing he was upstairs in bed with his mate, when the intercom buzzed.

Crossing the room, he frowned at the sight of his finest Raven glaring into the camera near the nursery. Jagr was a six-foot-three vampire who had once been a Visigoth chief. He had pale gold hair that was braided to fall to his waist and a pair of ice-blue eyes that were as hard and unforgiving as his stark features.

If he’d ever been civilized, three hundred years of relentless torture had stripped it away. His recent mating with Darcy’s sister, however, had managed to at least house-train him.

“Jagr, what’s happened?” he demanded, knowing the vampire would never have bothered him if it wasn’t serious.

“Are you in your study?”

“Yes?” Styx frowned in confusion. “Why?”

“DeAngelo’s watching the monitors and he just caught sight of you entering the house from a side door and heading toward Tane and Laylah’s room.”

“Gaius,” he growled, silently thanking Nefri for her warning of her clan brother’s peculiar talents. “Send the Ravens to capture him—I’m on my way.”

Jagr nodded. “You got it.”

“And Jagr.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t leave the nursery unguarded,” he commanded. “This might be an attempt to distract us.”

Jagr wisely didn’t point out he didn’t need anyone telling him how to do his job. “I won’t.”

“Oh, and don’t kill the intruder.” A cruel smile touched Styx’s mouth. “I want the honors.”

With a blurring speed, Styx was out of his study and headed down to the lower levels of his lair. As he moved, his power spread before him, shattering lightbulbs and toppling marble statues.

At last reaching the private rooms he’d given to Tane and Laylah, Styx slowed his pace, nodding toward the Ravens standing guard in front of the nursery. Then, with his fangs fully exposed, he moved deeper down the corridor, away from the living quarters toward the narrow stairs that led to his dungeons.

Rounding a corner, he discovered Jagr standing in front of a silver door that had a small window cut at eye level. The one-time Visigoth turned at Styx’s approach, his always grim expression more bleak than usual and a massive sword held in his hand.

“Well?” Styx prompted.

“We caught him before he could reach Tane’s private rooms and brought him here,” Jagr answered, his ice-blue eyes hard with disgust. “Take a look.”

Styx moved to peek through the window, hissing in shock as he caught sight of the vampire standing in the center of the lined cell.

Even prepared, Styx found himself reeling at the image of himself on another vampire.

The same long, dark hair pulled into a braid, the same large body covered in leather, and distinctly Aztec features. Christ. It was like looking in a mirror.

Or at least, how he supposed it would be to look in a mirror. Without a reflection, he could only assume the bastard had gotten the features right.

Which begged the question . . . how had he gotten them right?

Had they met before? After so many centuries it was impossible to remember every vampire he’d crossed paths with.

“Damn.” He shook off the inane thoughts, concentrating on what was to come next. “What gave him away?”

“He was too pretty.”

Styx snorted. “Very funny. Now the truth.”

Jagr gave a lift of one massive shoulder. “He had to search for the hidden door leading to the lower floors.”

Styx shook his head as the faux Styx folded his arms over his chest in a manner eerily familiar.