Hunt the Darkness (Guardians of Eternity #11)(85)

“Do you want me to lock her up?”

His lips twisted in a humorless smile. He was desperate, but there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to try to physically restrain Sally. Each time she’d been caged, it had destroyed something inside her.

Besides, he knew that she wasn’t entirely wrong.

Something was going to have to be done to get the Nebule off her trail.

“Yeah, because that worked out so well the last time,” he pointed out dryly.

Styx shrugged. “Just a suggestion.”

“Would you lock Darcy up?”

“I tried once.”

Roke came to an astonished halt, regarding his companion in disbelief.

Darcy might be a peace-loving vegetarian, but she was also a pureblooded Were who could do some serious damage when she was pissed.

“What happened?”

Styx pulled back his lips to expose his massive fangs, his hands landing on the desk as if he was being tormented by an unpleasant memory.

“She slipped away and damned near became the Queen of Weres instead of vampires.”

Roke grimaced. Thank the gods he hadn’t been around when Darcy had disappeared on Styx. The resulting meltdown had no doubt been the stuff of nightmares.

Turning his thoughts back to his mate, Roke gave a fatalistic lift of his shoulder. There was nothing he could do but accept the inevitable.

“I can’t stop Sally. I can only try to protect her.”

Styx nodded, slowly rising to his feet. “How can I help?”

Roke considered for a minute. There was no point in taking any of his brothers on his journey. The Nebule not only had his nasty poison darts that could kill a vampire, but Brandel’s ability to turn into mist meant that they were virtually worthless in a battle against the creature.

How did you kill mist?

“You could encourage the Oracles to step up their search for Brandel,” he suggested, not surprised when Styx grimaced.

No one wanted to deal with the Commission.

“I’ll do my best.”

Roke nodded. It was all he could hope for.

“Cyn has promised to discover how we can kill him, but until then we’ll be vulnerable if he attacks.”

“What about the fey?” Styx asked. “It’s going to be difficult to sneak around when you have a parade of fairies following your every footstep.”

It was a problem that Roke had already considered. Beyond all the attention the fey would attract, he wasn’t in the mood to trip over a sprite or nymph every time he turned around. Besides, the adoring groupies were truly freaking out poor Sally.

“Troy is supposed to be spreading the word that Sally is to be left in peace until further notice,” he said.

“You trust an imp?”

“I don’t trust anyone, but he’s at least cleared away the horde that was surrounding your lair.”

“Troy did that?” Styx glanced toward the window, a wry smile curling his lips. “And here I thought my fearsome reputation had been responsible for their flight.”

Roke grunted. “Not even the threat of your anger could dislodge them. The creatures are nothing if not tenacious.”

“Are you taking Troy with you?”

A shudder of horror raced through him at the mere thought. “Good God, no.”

There was the sound of the door being shoved open before the stench of granite filled the air.

“Why would he need an imp when he already has a kicking side?” a French accented voice demanded as Levet stepped into the study along with Sally.

“Sidekick,” Sally corrected, her gaze warily watching Roke’s immediate reaction to the gargoyle’s implication he was going along for the ride.

“No,” he growled.

Her lips flattened at his stark refusal to even contemplate being stuck with the pest.

“We need him.”

“Why would we possibly need that”—he pointed toward the smirking Levet—“lump of granite?”

Levet stuck out his tongue. “Bah.”

Sally made a sound of impatience. “If the demon is capable of changing shapes, we need someone who can use his sense of smell to warn us if he is near.”

Roke scowled, instantly offended. “I’m capable of smelling the demon.”

Levet ran a claw over his tiny snout. “But you do not have my superior senses.”

Stepping forward, Roke intended to toss the annoying gargoyle from the room only to be halted by Styx.

“I hate to agree with the gargoyle, but he does have a better nose,” the king said.

Roke sent him a disgusted frown. “You just want to get rid of him.”

“There is that,” Styx agreed, his smile mocking.

“Enough.” Sally threw her hands in the air, turning to head back toward the door. “I’m going. You can come if you want. Otherwise, stay here.”

Roke was swiftly in pursuit. “Dammit, Sally, wait.”

“Call if you need backup,” Styx called.

Roke stomped down the hall, following his irritated mate and her aggravating gargoyle companion.

“Backup, my ass.”

Sally glanced toward the vampire seated behind the steering wheel of the Land Rover. He didn’t look happy. In fact, his grim expression and narrowed glare suggested his mood was downright foul.