When Darkness Comes (Guardians of Eternity #1)(32)

She bit her lip, the terror she was struggling to keep at bay almost visible as she considered the darkness shrouded about her.

"Your definition of far is considerably different than mine," she muttered.

He placed his fingers beneath her chin to tilt her head upward. He waited until she met his searching gaze and then offered her a comforting smile.

'You have only to call and I will come running."

"You promise?"

"Upon my quiche-hating heart," he said softly.

Her lips twitched, although her eyes remained dark with unease. 'That'll do."

Framing her face in his hands, Dante crushed his lips to her forehead before pulling back to regard her with a somber expression.

"Abby."

"What?"

"I would suggest you stay away from the windows. It's bad in there. Really bad."

His warning delivered, Dante turned to make his way toward the outbuildings. If some of the witches had fled, he should be able to follow their scent. He supposed it was too much to hope that they might be hidden in the nearby trees.

In over three centuries, they had never made anything easy.

Don't look. Don't look. Don't look.

Dante's words echoed through Abby's mind.

She knew he was right. She didn't want to see whatever was inside. God knew she had seen enough in the past hours to last her a couple of lifetimes. Not the least of which was a walking corpse who refused to stay in Ms grave.

But the very fact that she shouldn't look naturally ensured that her feet were moving forward and she was pressing her face to the glass.

For a moment her eyes could make out nothing in the gloom, and a deep sense of relief shuddered through her. Then, even as she prepared to pull away, her gaze shifted toward a nearby wall and she was reeling backward in horror.

So much blood…

It had been splattered everywhere.

And… stuff she didn't even want to consider.

Bending over, she gagged at the rising nausea.

"You had to look, didn't you?" a dark voice drawled even as a strong arm encircled her shoulders and pulled her close.

"You shouldn't have told me not to."

He pressed her head into his shoulder. "Somehow I knew it would end up being my fault."

Comforted more than a rational woman should be by a vampire's touch, Abby slowly forced herself to pull away.

"Did you find the trail?"

Even in the darkness, she could see his grimace.

"It led as far as the nearest outbuilding, which happened to be a garage."

Her eyes lifted to the heavens. "Don't tell me. They took off in the witchmobile?"

"Something like that."

Abby sucked in a deep breath. She knew she should be disappointed.

Without the witches, her life remained in danger. All sorts of creepy, icky, semi-dead things would continue to hunt her. And the Phoenix that had taken up residence within her body would continue to refurbish her like she was a cheap dorm room.

But the disappointment that was lodged in her heart felt remarkably like relief.

"So, what now?" she demanded in an effort to sound resigned rather than certifiable.

Lifting his head, Dante sniffed the air. "Dawn will be approaching soon. I must find some place to wait out the day."

"Oh. We could return to the factories."

"I think there might be something closer. Can you walk?"

Her feet had gone beyond pain to a petulant numbness. "I'll make it."

A slow, enigmatic smile curved his lips. "You never fail to amaze me, lover."

Startled by the low words, Abby had no time to demand what he meant before he had a hold of her hand and was tugging her across the clearing to the woods on the other side.

In silence—well, Dante in silence and her with snapping twigs, squishing mud, muttered oaths, and a whimper of pain when she stubbed her toe on a fallen log—they made their way through the darkness. Abby swiftly lost track of time as she concentrated simply on keeping her feet moving forward, but eventually Dante slowed his swift pace.

"Here we are," he murmured, his hand reaching out to brush aside a heavy curtain of ivy that was growing upon the side of a low hill. "Not quite five-star material, but it's dark."

"And damp," Abby muttered as she bent low to follow Dante into the narrow tunnel that led to a small circular opening.

Seating himself on the sandy ground, he gave a tug on her hand, pulling her next to his hard length.

"Look at it this way, at least it's not a crypt," he pointed out in dry tones.

Although not overly impressed with the low ceiling and moss-covered walls, she did have to concede that it was a relief not to have a corpse lying about

"Meaning I should be grateful for small favors?"

"Well, you also have the pleasure of my company. That should make even a damp cave seem like paradise."

"God, you really need to get over yourself, Dante," she muttered, pulling her knees close to her chest and wrapping her arms about them.

Clearly feeling the faint shiver that raced through Abby, Dante shifted to study her pale face.

"Are you cold?"

"A little."

"Here." Wrapping his arm about her shoulder, he tugged her close to his side, his cheek resting on top of her head. "It should warm up as the sun rises."