When Darkness Ends (Guardians of Eternity #12)(12)

Anthony frowned. He didn’t like sarcasm. It was the sign of a lazy mind.

On the other hand, he did like using his druid skills to punish those people who were stupid enough to annoy him. He liked it a lot.

Smiling, he ran his thumb over the heavy silver ring that circled his index finger.

A symbol of his authority that made the imp pale.

Satisfied, Anthony returned his attention to the image of the fairy.

“Who is he?”

Keeley had to clear his throat before he could speak. “He claims to be Prince Magnus.”

A prince?

Then he wouldn’t be alone.

Royals always traveled with guards.

“They retreated from the world centuries ago,” he muttered. “Why would they return now?”

The imp returned the phone to his back pocket. “There’re a dozen rumors, but no actual facts.”

“Where is he?”

Keeley grimaced. “At the home of the Anasso.”

The Anasso? Anthony lifted his brows. Things were getting stranger and stranger.

He didn’t like strange any more than he liked sarcasm.

“He’s with the vampires?”

“So it would seem.”

Anthony paced toward the priceless Botticelli painting that hung on the back wall, silently contemplating his next move.

He wasn’t a narcissist. He didn’t believe that everything that happened in the world had something to do with him.

Then again, he wasn’t stupid.

The return of the Chatri after so many years had the potential to ruin everything he’d worked so hard to achieve. He had to know if they intended to cause trouble.

He considered various ruses that might lure the Chatri to Ireland, only to dismiss them. He couldn’t wait and hope the powerful fey might choose to arrive on his doorstep.

He needed to know now what they were planning.

The sooner the better.

“Bring him to me,” he softly commanded, turning back to meet the imp’s horrified gaze.

“What?”

Anthony picked a piece of lint off the sleeve of his smoking jacket, waiting for the imp to gather his composure.

“I believe you heard me,” he at last murmured.

“Why me?”

“You have a connection to Styx, don’t you?”

Keeley made a strangled sound, clearly not overjoyed at the promise of being reunited with his vampire friends.

“Not one that’s likely to endear me to him,” he managed to choke out. “He blamed my cousin Damocles for the destruction of the previous Anasso and he won’t have forgotten that I was related to him. He’ll kill me if I return to America.”

“Nonsense.” Anthony clicked his tongue. The fey, even half fey were annoyingly dramatic. “If he wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”

“But—”

“Keeley, find a way to make him invite you into his home,” he interrupted, his voice deceptively gentle. “I need to know if they’ve somehow managed to discover my plans.”

The stench of cherries made Anthony’s nose wrinkle as the imp fought his instinct to refuse the direct command.

A wise choice.

The vampire might kill him, but Anthony . . . ah, he would make the imp wish he were dead . . . over and over again.

“And if they have learned that you’ve been interfering with the Commission?”

A good question.

Anthony reached for his glass of whiskey he’d left on a small table next to the chair.

Unfortunately he didn’t have a good answer.

“Then I suppose we will have to accelerate our timetable.”

Keeley frowned. “Is that possible?”

“You sound concerned.” Anthony sipped his whiskey, capturing the imp’s nervous gaze. “You aren’t getting cold feet, are you?”

“No.” Keeley took a nervous step backward. Smart imp. “Of course not.”

“Then bring me the Chatri.”

Draining the whiskey, Anthony set aside the glass and headed toward the door. He was stepping into the formal gallery when he heard Keeley mutter behind him, “Bastard.”

Anthony shrugged. The imp wasn’t wrong.

He was a bastard.

Chapter Three

Fallon gasped when Siljar disappeared as swiftly as she’d appeared.

One second she was patting Cyn’s arm and the next . . . poof.

No smoke. No mirrors. No abracadabra.

Just there and then gone.

Damn.

What was wrong with her?

She should have insisted that the powerful demon return her to her homeland. Even with Sariel’s interference she could have kept watch on the Commission. It wasn’t as if she’d ever let her father or fiancé interfere in her fascination with scrying before.

It was easy to tell herself that it was the shock of waking up in a strange cave with a dangerous vampire, swiftly followed by the appearance of an Oracle demanding her help in spying on the Commission, that had rattled her brain. How could any poor female think clearly under such circumstances?

But a part of her knew that she’d allowed herself to be steamrolled by the tiny Oracle quite simply because she didn’t want to go home.

She’d spent centuries trapped in the glorious palace her father had created. She’d been petted and pampered and . . .