When Darkness Ends (Guardians of Eternity #12)(9)

Cyn caught the scent of musty linen and charcoal as he studied the delicate hieroglyphs sketched on the scroll.

“Presented by whom?”

“No one can recall.”

Hmm. That was odd. His gaze skimmed over the delicate symbols.

“What’s it for?”

“I believed that it was a simple cleansing spell that would rid the caves of any lingering residues of magic.” The female Oracle gave a lift of her shoulder. “When so many powerful demons are gathered in one place it is necessary every few months to purge the air so that the overspill of energy doesn’t build up and interfere with our current spells.”

Cyn was blissfully ignorant when it came to magic and residual buildup. He was, however, an expert when it came to the subtleties of language.

“You said you believed.” He studied her tiny, heart-shaped face. “Now you don’t?”

She gave a firm shake of her head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t remember who planted the idea in my head that it was a cleansing spell.”

Cyn frowned in puzzlement. “You can’t read it?”

“No. But there is a compulsion deep inside me to try and cast it.”

“How would you cast it if you can’t read it?”

“That is a question I have no answer for.” Siljar stepped toward him, pointing to the glyphs. “Can you decipher it?”

“No.” He frowned, sensing the age of the writing. “It’s old. Very old.”

“Fey?” the Oracle prompted.

“Maybe fey in origin, but—”

“What?”

“The marks are too straight.” His finger traced an angled line that was topped by a section of triple dots. “The fey glyphs are curved and usually more . . . elegant.” He gave a shake of his head. “This has the blunt simplicity of humans, but it isn’t in any language I’ve seen before.”

Siljar’s expression remained calm, but Cyn didn’t miss her tiny jerk of surprise.

She hadn’t been expecting him to say human.

“But you have the means to translate it?” she at last demanded.

Cyn considered his response. He was impulsive, not suicidal. A wise vampire didn’t say no to an Oracle.

Then again, he wanted nothing more than to get rid of his unwanted guests and check on his clan. He had full faith in Lise, whom he’d left in charge when Roke asked him to travel to America, but his clan would be frantic to discover what’d happened to him.

And more importantly, he wanted the damned fairy princess out of his hair.

Okay. That wasn’t entirely true.

If he was honest, what he really wanted was her soft and welcoming and groaning with pleasure as he came deep inside her.

But that was about as likely to happen as him sprouting wings and a halo. Which meant he would be stuck for days with a haughty, prudish female who was way too fond of treating him like he was some sort of lesser being who should be kneeling at her elegant feet.

Yeah. A big “No, thank you,” to that.

“Why not go to the fey?”

The dark gaze never wavered from his face. “I suspect the answer is in your library.”

Cyn narrowed his eyes. How the hell had she known about his library?

“Is there a reason for your suspicion?”

“Erinna came to me shortly before she and Mika left.”

Cyn stiffened. Erinna and Mika had been the two fairies who’d rescued him from these caves, taking him into their home even when he could so easily have destroyed them.

He’d never forgotten how they’d rescued him from the caves, and how they’d made him a member of their family. They’d been a part of his life for centuries, treating him as a true son. At least they had until they’d disappeared several days . . . No, wait. If it was January, then they’d left weeks ago, with only a short note to tell him not to search for them.

“What did she say?”

“She had a premonition after they took you into their home that you would be the savior of the fey.” Siljar watched the disbelief spread over Cyn’s face. “That’s why they insisted you learn as much of their history as possible.”

He adored his foster parents and he’d been happy to indulge their desire that he learn the language and writing of the fey. And even had listened to the endless stories that had been passed down by their ancestors.

But they tended to be highly dramatic, and it wouldn’t take more than a stray dream, or the shape of a leaf, to convince them that he was supposed to be some sort of fey messiah.

Cyn shook his head in denial.

Bloody hell.

It had to be a joke.

“If they thought I could be their savior then why did they leave?” he demanded.

Siljar shrugged. “They sent word to me that Erinna had a new vision and they were going to check it out. They refused to give me any more information.”

The growing fear that he was going to be forced to help the Oracle whether he wanted to or not was forgotten at Siljar’s words.

It was one thing to accept that Erinna and Mika had taken off for their own pleasure. And another to think they’d put themselves in deliberate danger.

“Damn them.” He shook his head, angry that he hadn’t suspected there was more to their abrupt departure. “Why didn’t they tell me?”