“It does, however, mean you’re a pain in the ass.”
“Jealous?”
Styx curled back his lips to reveal his massive fangs. “Increasingly hungry.”
There was a prickle of danger as the power of the two alphas swirled through the air. The frigid blast of vampire slammed against the raw heat of Were, promising a violent explosion if released.
Then, with a low growl, Salvatore was leashing his wolf, the mocking smile returning to his lips.
“I know that Darcy is anxious to meet her missing sister, and since the demon world is well aware you are firmly wrapped around her finger it was a logical assumption that you would have your goons on the hunt.”
Styx nodded, hoping for Salvatore’s sake it had been an educated guess. He was prepared to work with the Weres to prevent the end of the world, but he’d be damned if the lice-infested bastards were going to have spies in his camp.
“Just as you have released the hounds?” he demanded.
There was a short pause before Salvatore gave a grudging nod of his head, no more happy to share intel than Styx.
“I’ll admit that I sent Hess and a few of my trusted lieutenants to have a chat with Caine.”
“And?”
“And they claim that he and Cassandra have vanished into thin air.” The lean face hardened with annoyance. “If I didn’t know they were the finest trackers in existence I would have had them skinned for either being incompetent or liars.”
“And you want to know if my Ravens have had any more success?”
“Yes.”
“Hess speaks the truth,” Styx admitted, referring to Salvatore’s right-hand man. “Jagr was able to track Caine to a lair outside Chicago, and while he couldn’t enter the house past the hexes the cur has placed around the yard, all signs are that they simply disappeared.”
Salvatore cursed, not bothering to pester Styx with stupid questions. Jagr was Styx’s finest Raven and if he said the trail ended, it ended.
“Magic?” he instead asked.
“The trail was too cold to say for certain.”
Salvatore returned to his pacing. “Dammit.”
“I take it that Harley isn’t going to be pleased with the news?” he taunted, pleased to be able to point out that Salvatore was equally at the mercy of his mate.
“No more pleased than Darcy.” The Were shook his head, his body tense. “But it’s not just being able to return Cassandra to her sisters. Or even discovering what the hell turned Caine from a mangy cur to a pureblooded Were.”
“What’s troubling you?”
“What isn’t?” His humorless laughter echoed through the office. “Nasty creatures that we thought were gone from the world forever are crawling out of the woodwork.” The Were glared at Styx as if it were entirely his fault that the streets were suddenly overrun with demons that were supposed to have been banished. Including the damned Sylvermyst (evil cousins to the fey), who made a grand entrance just a few weeks ago and promptly caused Tane’s rescue of Laylah and her child to go to hell. “And it seems like every week there’s a new plot to return the Dark Lord.”
Styx pushed away from the desk, savage anger racing through him. “Some of them coming too damned close for comfort.”
“Exactly.” Salvatore waved a slander hand. “And we have the babies that supposedly fulfill some stupid mysterious prophecy.”
The words of the foretelling flared through Styx’s mind. He’d devoted the past weeks to discovering everything he could of the prophecy. And most importantly, trying to discover what the hell it might mean.
“Don’t be so dismissive, Were,” he growled. “I’m old enough to know the dangers of ignoring such potent warnings.”
“Trust me, leech, I’m not dismissive.” The gold eyes suddenly glowed with his inner wolf. “Not after that demon lord nearly managed to destroy my people. All the omens point to the barriers between dimensions thinning, which is precisely why I’m so concerned for Cassandra.”
Styx’s lips twisted, realizing Salvatore’s mind had followed his own path. And that they’d both been chasing down the female Were for the same purpose.
A Were with a brain. Hell, the world truly was going insane.