Hunt the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #11)(70)

Troy widened his eyes in surprise. “What sort of box?”

“A music box decorated with ancient glyphs,” Roke answered.

“How would you know of such an object?”

“My mate has one.” Roke clenched his hands at the stab of pain that sliced through his heart. “Is it dangerous?”

Troy shook his head. “No, from what little information we have, the boxes were used by the Chatri to share information, not magic.”

The imp acted sincere, but Roke remained unconvinced. Demons were notoriously reluctant to give up secrets about their individual species.

“What sort of information?” he probed.

Troy shrugged. “Family histories, the ingredients for rare spells, occasionally maps.”

“Maps?” Roke latched on to the unexpected revelation. “Are you sure?”

“Of course, I have a collection of boxes in my private vault,” Troy said. “At least two are maps to entrances of the hidden fey dimensions.” The imp studied Troy with a puzzled gaze. “Why are you asking?”

Roke forced himself to give a shake of his head. So Sally hadn’t been mistaken when she confessed she thought she was beginning to understand the language of the glyphs. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to help him find her.

“Later,” he muttered. “Could a box create a portal?”

“No.” Troy’s response was emphatic, his hand lifting toward the spot where the portal opened. “This was the work of an extremely powerful fey. One who can call on the talents of the Chatri.”

Roke grimaced.

They were wasting time and he hadn’t discovered anything beyond the fact the imp insisted there was some sort of ancient fey magic involved.

“Can you trace it?”

Troy looked confused. “You mean follow it back to where it originated?”

“No.” Roke forced himself to count to ten. No sense in killing the one fey who might be able to help him. “I want you to open the portal.”

“Why?”

Roke flashed his fangs. “You don’t need—”

“Roke believes his mate is stuck inside it,” Styx interrupted Roke’s furious words, his own voice smooth.

Troy frowned at Roke. “You’re mistaken.”

Roke growled. Okay. Now the damned imp was just trying to piss him off.

“I’m rarely mistaken,” he said, the earth trembling.

“Easy, leech,” Troy said, hastily trying to lessen the violence that prickled in the air. “A portal won’t close if there’s still someone inside it.”

Roke cursed. If Sally hadn’t been left behind in Nevada, and she wasn’t in the portal, then where the hell was she?

“Then why isn’t she here?” he snapped, as if Sally’s absence was entirely the imp’s fault.

Troy took a cautious step backward, clearly having dealt with unreasonable vampires before.

“My only guess would be that she took a detour.”

Detour? The ground split open just inches from his feet.

“What the hell does that mean?” he snarled.

Troy paled, taking another step backward. “The truly skilled fey are capable of creating more than one opening. She could have brought you here and continued on to another location.”

Styx glanced toward Roke, his expression troubled. “Can she create portals?”

Roke shoved his fingers through his hair. There was no denying that Sally had been changing over the past weeks. She’d always been a powerful witch, but now her innate demon blood was vying for dominance and there was no telling what talents might spontaneously erupt.

“Hell, I don’t know,” he muttered, his gaze glued to the imp. “Can you find where she went?”

“No. I’m sorry.”

“Then who can?”

Troy gave a helpless lift of his hand and gave the wrong answer.

“No one.”

Sally would have laughed if she could have forced it past the lump in her throat.

“Father?” she muttered, staring in horror at the impossibly beautiful creature.

She’d fantasized about this moment since she was old enough to realize other kids had dads who did more than donate sperm.

Late at night, after her mother had forced her to endure hours of unrelenting training and at last locked her in her room, she’d lie on her bed and pretend that her father was just about to arrive and take her away.

Some nights he would be a badass superhero, like a Navy Seal or a storm chaser. She would pretend that he was off saving the world and that was why he hadn’t come to visit.

Some nights he would be a kind, comfortable sort of man. Maybe a teacher. Or a doctor. And he didn’t yet know that he had a daughter, but as soon as he discovered the truth, he would be rushing to take her to his home, which was filled with all the love a lonely little girl craved.

Then, she’d been forced to accept it wasn’t human blood running through her veins and her fantasies had become less idealistic and more resigned.

Obviously her mother’s quickie had been with a random demon who’d been competent at disguising his true identity and that was that.

No father rushing to claim her as his daughter.

No Christmas-card family waiting in her future.