Hunt the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #11)(35)

He hadn’t been kidding when he warned Sally he would kill a man who touched her.

Waving aside the vampires who stood guard in the hallway, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. Instantly his gaze went to Sally as she rose from the table, taking careful note of the empty plates and the lingering scent of apple pie.

Good, she’d eaten.

“Sally,” he murmured. “This is Cyn.”

She warily eyed the large vampire. “Cyn.”

Cyn stepped forward, frigid tingles filling the air. “So you’re the bitch who abused her powers and—”

Immediately Roke was in his friend’s face, his fangs fully exposed.

“Don’t.”

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Sally muttered from behind them.

Roke kept his gaze glued to Cyn. “I’m beginning to agree.”

“You can’t expect anyone to be happy you were shackled by a witch,” Cyn snarled.

“Hey, he isn’t the only one shackled,” Sally groused, the scent of scorched peaches filling the air. “You think I’m any happier about this?”

Cyn glanced over Roke’s shoulder to send Sally a disbelieving glare.

“Any female would be damned lucky to have a vampire as a mate.”

“Oh yeah? Well for your information if anyone is lucky it’s Roke,” Sally countered, as willing as ever to spit in the face of danger. Or in this case, a lethal vampire. “I would make any man a fantastic mate.”

Roke smiled wryly at his friend’s astonished expression. Cyn could make grown trolls piss their pants with a single frown. He hadn’t expected the fragile-looking female to fight back.

“Careful, Cyn. Her temper is like a loaded gun in the hands of a toddler,” he murmured.

“You know what? Screw both of you,” Sally hissed. “I don’t need—”

He caught her as she headed toward the door leading onto the terrace. Gently turning her around, he ran soothing fingers up and down her arms.

“Sally, I know this is difficult, but I think it’s important we find out what those glyphs mean.”

She held herself stiff beneath his touch, battling against her desire to continue with her dramatic exit.

Typical.

Sally Grace made a habit of striking out and then fleeing.

She was a hit-and-run master.

Then, clearly forcing herself to remember she needed answers, she shoved the box into his hands.

“Here.”

He leaned down to brush his lips over her troubled brow before turning to offer the box to the scowling Cyn.

Instantly the vampire’s anger was replaced with wonder, his large hand cradling the box with ginger care as one finger lightly traced the glyphs.

“Astonishing.”

“What’s astonishing?” Roke prompted, knowing Cyn could become lost in his fascination with the carvings.

Few people knew that beneath Cyn’s hunger for physical gratification was an even greater hunger for knowledge.

He was one of the few vampires with whom Roke could share his own fascination with history, which was the primary reason for their unlikely friendship.

“These are old,” Cyn murmured, turning the box as he studied the flowing curves.

“I could tell that much.” Roke leaned forward, a sudden chill inching down his spine at the realization the shimmer that glazed the glyphs had become more pronounced. And they were pulsing, as if they were connected to a heartbeat. “What do they say?”

“No, I mean these are really old.” He lifted his head, the beads at the end of his narrow braids rattling as they banged against his chest. “Pre-Morgana.”

“Morgana? Morgana le Fey?” Sally said in choked tones.

Roke grimaced, abruptly reminded of just how young she truly was.

For him Morgana le Fey was a part of his history, but to her the Queen of Fairies was no doubt a myth that had been lost in the mists of Avalon. Not that Morgana had ever been lost. Well, not until a few months ago when . . .

He gave a shake of his head, concentrating on Cyn.

“I know very little about fey history,” he admitted.

“Few of us do.” Cyn returned his attention to the box. “Before Morgana le Fey declared herself Queen of the Fairies they tended to be a secretive race.”

Roke made a sound of disbelief. “I never thought I would hear secretive and fey in the same sentence.”

“I said secretive, not shy,” Cyn corrected. “I assume they were the same flamboyant exhibitionists in the privacy of their courts.”

Roke had, of course, heard of the rumors of the fabulous fey courts that had long ago disappeared, although there had never been tangible proof they were more than legends.

“Why were they secretive?”

“The Chatri—”

“Chatri?” Roke interrupted.

“The original rulers of the fey. They considered themselves above the lesser demons.”

“All demons considered themselves above other demons,” Roke pointed out in dry tones.

“No shit,” Sally added.

Cyn turned the box upside down, as if searching for a clue to its origins.

“The ancient fey took it to the extreme.”

“How extreme?”

“Eventually they closed off their courts from the world.”