Hunt the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #11)(38)

He muttered a low curse, clearly annoyed by her refusal to forgive and forget her treatment at the hands of his Anasso.

“You are a stranger. And a witch,” he said, his gaze searching the darkness for any hint of danger. “Styx was naturally suspicious.”

“And now I’m naturally suspicious,” she mutinously countered. “‘Fool me once’ and all that crap.”

“So what do you suggest?” He slowed his pace so he could glare down at her stubborn expression. “That we run around in circles?”

She met his smoldering gaze.

For once, she’d actually given it some thought.

“Obviously we need to find a fey that we can trust to tell us what the hell is going on.”

He showed a hint of fang. “There’s no such thing as a trustworthy fey.”

The whiff of granite was the only warning before the tiny gargoyle fluttered down from the branch of a nearby tree.

“I can, perhaps, be of service.”

“Shit.” In one dizzying movement Roke had Sally lowered to the ground, shoving her behind him so his hands were free to destroy the latest threat. Even if that threat was only three feet tall. “Where did you come from?”

Levet gave a flap of his wings, impervious as ever to the danger coating the air with ice.

“From there.” He pointed toward a claw near the top of the tree. “I have been waiting for you to leave the island.”

“How did you . . .” Roke gave a sharp shake of his head, pausing as if he were silently counting to ten. Sally was fairly certain he’d better make it a hundred. Levet seemed to aggravate the vampire without even trying. “I thought you were chasing after your female?”

“Yannah sent me back to you.”

“Why?”

Levet sniffed, a petulant expression on his ugly gray features.

“Who knows why a woman does anything? The workings of the female mind are beyond comprehension.”

“Preaching to the choir,” Roke muttered.

Sally smacked him in the middle of the back.

“Careful,” she muttered, glancing around his shoulder to peer at the gargoyle. “You said you could help?”

“Oui.” Levet’s expression brightened. “I am acquainted with an imp who might be of service.”

“What imp?” she asked.

“Troy, the Prince of Imps. He resides in Chicago.”

Chapter Ten

Roke once again had Sally in his arms as they dashed over the rocky ground, stoically ignoring Levet who struggled to keep pace beside him.

His first impulse had been to run off the miniature gargoyle.

There was no way in hell he could endure his presence for another road trip.

But, he was vampire enough to admit that Levet’s unexpected arrival had worked in his own favor.

After all, there was no way in hell he would ever have convinced Sally to return to Chicago without the gargoyle suggesting the imp could be of assistance. And while he was no happier about the thought of allowing her anywhere near the fey, they would at least have the protection of the King of Vampires and his Ravens.

That Roke would insist on.

They were nearing the edge of a small town when Sally stirred restlessly in his arms.

“We can’t run all the way to Chicago.”

“I don’t intend to.” He sent his winged companion a stern gaze. “Gargoyle?”

Levet wrinkled his heavy brow. “What?”

“You took off on our only source of transportation.”

“Ah . . . oui.”

His wings seemed to droop. No doubt the little thief hoped that Roke was too distracted to remember he’d taken off with his precious bike.

“This way.”

Surprisingly, Levet headed directly toward the town. Roke assumed he would have hidden the bike in the thick underbrush at the edge of the woods.

Why risk leaving it so close to the humans?

Then, halting at a small house that was nearly hidden in the shadows of an abandoned gas station, the gargoyle stood in front of the attached garage and gave a dramatic wave of his hands.

“Ta-da.”

Roke moved forward only to come to a baffled halt at the sight of the battered Fiesta that consumed the cramped space.

“What the hell is this?”

Levet shifted from foot to foot, clearing his throat.

“I should think it is obvious. You desire transportation and I have provided it.” He gave another wave of his hands. “Ta-da.”

Roke carefully set Sally on her feet, already knowing the gargoyle was about to piss him off.

“Where’s my motorcycle?”

Levet managed a sickly smile. “A motorcycle is not precisely built for three. This is far more sensible.”

“It’s a piece of shit.” Roke narrowed his gaze. “Now where is my bike?”

“I can locate another vehicle. . . .” Levet’s eyes widened as Roke yanked him off the ground by one horn. “Eek!”

Holding the creature at eye level, Roke spoke with a cold precision.

“Where. Is. My. Bike?”

The gargoyle turned from gray to a strange shade of oyster.

“There might have been a teeny-tiny accident.”

The nearby garage creaked as Roke’s temper threatened to explode.