Alexandra Ivy: Hunt the Darkness

He was a walking, talking library.

He was also a warning on the dangers of judging a book by its cover.

Speaking a spell of protection that would alert him if anyone approached the isolated cavern, Brandel allowed his spirit to slip from his corporal body, and entered the shimmering portal.

He shivered, despite his lack of a physical form.

The silvery fog that lay between dimensions had always unnerved him.

Perhaps because he understood illusions.

The fog might feel tangible, but the truth was that there was a gaping void lurking just out of sight.

He made a sound of impatience as a large Adonis with a halo of golden curls and bronzed naked body appeared.

Raith was addicted to his current body, refusing to leave it behind even when it meant expending a vast amount of his energy.

Vain moron.

“I told you never to contact me when the Commission is in session,” he said telepathically, easily able to communicate his annoyance without speaking out loud.

Raith shrugged one broad shoulder. “There is a disturbance.”

Brandel made a sound of impatience. “The danger to the vampires has been contained. There is no threat to our arrangement,” he said, referring to the spirit that had so nearly created complete chaos.

“I do not speak of the vampires.”

“Then what?”

The perfect features hardened. “A whisper of ancient magic.”

Brandel felt a stirring of fear. “Our . . . guest?”

“He remains locked in stasis. But—”

“What?”

“He seeks to connect with someone in your world.”

“Damn.” Brandel could be arrogant, but he never forgot that their prisoner was a powerful demon who could destroy them if he ever broke free. “The last time he did this he succeeded in luring a witch into his prison.”

The wide, guileless eyes that were perfect for the Adonis face briefly flickered to reveal the black eyes slit with red that were Raith’s true form.

“Yes, a peculiar waste of his efforts. The witch was powerful, but her dark magic would never have been capable of destroying the barriers that hold him captive.” Raith gave a shake of his head, still puzzled by the creature’s peculiar behavior. “And he had to have sensed my spell would wipe her mind of their brief encounter as soon as she returned to her own world.”

“The bastard no doubt wanted a quickie. He always was an obnoxious, self-indulgent ass.”

Raith smiled with mocking amusement. “Still annoyed that he managed to seduce your mate?”

Brandel hissed, his unsubstantial form shivering in fury. Like most of his kind he’d sought his mate among the fey. And he’d found her in a beautiful, red-haired imp who’d made his soul sing. The fact that Glenda had never truly bonded with him had never bothered him.

Not until she’d run off with another.

“I had the last laugh,” he reminded his companion, recalling with vicious satisfaction how he’d forced his unfaithful wife to watch her lover being entombed in his eternal prison before he’d ripped her heart from her chest.

“So far,” Raith warned. “As you said, he has always been arrogant, but he is also a cunning, lethal adversary who could ruin both of us if he manages to escape.”

Brandel didn’t need the reminder.

The dangerous game he played was constantly on his mind.

Not only the fear of their prisoner escaping, but the constant dread that the Oracles would discover the truth of his presence on the Commission.

Death would be a welcome escape from what the powerful demons would do to him.

“Have you strengthened the shields that hide your guest?”

“Yes, and I’ve placed a tracer spell on the magic.”

“You seem to have it in hand. What do you want from me?”

Raith frowned. “Obviously I need you to follow my spell and investigate the source of the magic.”

“I can’t.”

There was a low vibration in the air. A resonance that threatened to scramble him on a molecular level.

“You wish to terminate our highly profitable partnership?”

“No, of course not,” he hastily soothed the older demon.

“Then you will do as I command.”

“Be reasonable.” Brandel floated backward, putting some distance between him and Raith. The vibrations hadn’t done any real damage, but they’d hurt like hell. “Leaving at this time will attract the sort of attention we can’t afford.”

Raith’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Siljar.”

“She is an Oracle, is she not?”

Brandel’s anger stirred the fog. Damn but he hated the interfering, busybody of a demon.

“Not only an Oracle, but the Queen Bitch herself.”

“Queen?” Raith asked. “I thought the Commission was a democracy?”

“So they claim. We each have a vote, but the majority of the Oracles have allowed themselves to be castrated by their fear of Siljar.” There was another stirring of the fog. “They have become nothing more than a committee of ass-kissers.”

“And you would prefer that they kiss your ass?”

Of course he did.

He’d always lusted for power, but more than that, he lusted for the respect and admiration of others.

Someday, he silently promised himself.

But not today.

“I would prefer that she would bring an end to our tedious gathering,” he answered. The Oracles had been called during the King of Vampires’ battle with the King of Weres, but as one disaster had followed another, they’d been forced to remain and contain the damage. “So long as we’re stuck in these caves my every move is being monitored.”

Raith frowned. “Do you think she is suspicious?”

“Of course not,” Brandel swiftly denied. “She is merely drunk on her own power.”

“You had better pray to our god you are right. We both have much to lose if we are discovered.”

Dammit. Brandel didn’t need to be told what they risked.

“You take care of your end of the business and I’ll take care of mine,” he snapped, mind to mind.

“Very well. Your end of the business is tracking the spell and determining if it is a threat to us,” Raith swiftly countered, faint vibrations humming in the air. “Understood?”

Did he have a choice?

“Yes.”

Raith chuckled. “I always enjoy our little chats.”

Roke frowned as Sally paced the small bedroom, her movements jerky and her face paler than normal.

It wasn’t unusual for her to be agitated when he was around.

They’d been striking sparks off one another from the beginning.

In more ways than one.

But this was more . . .

He could sense a true fear that she was desperately trying to hide behind a pretense of anger.

“Why are you being so stubborn?” he at last demanded.

She halted, her glare shifting to the box he held in his hands.

“We don’t even know if this box has anything to do with me or my father.”

“Do you have a better lead to follow?”

Her lips tightened. “No.”

“Then you have nothing to lose in coming to Nevada with me.”

She looked less than impressed by his logic.

“The last time I trusted the word of a vampire I ended up in the dungeons.”

Thanks a butt-load, Styx , he silently chastised his king.

The Anasso’s decision to toss Sally in his formidable prison had made certain she had a perfectly legitimate excuse not to trust the vampires.

“I live in the middle of the desert.” He offered a teasing smile. “My only dungeon is a nearby gold mine. You could strike it rich while you were down there.”

She gave a humorless laugh. “Is that supposed to be reassuring?”

Roke took a cautious step forward. She was twitchy enough to bolt if he wasn’t careful.