Oh, and then there were the sharp, pointed teeth.
And the barely leashed power that could shatter cities.
“Siljar?” she murmured when the female continued to gaze into the water, studying some image she’d scryed.
With a wave of her hand, Siljar dismissed the image and heaved a heavy sigh. “Children today,” she complained as she turned her attention toward Nefri.
“I can return another time if you’re busy.”
“No, this is important.” Siljar pointed a finger toward the lone wooden chair. “Sit.”
Nefri obeyed without hesitation, perching on the edge of the chair and folding her hands in her lap.
“Does this have anything to do with the Dark Lord?”
Siljar shook her head. “No, that chapter is closed.”
“Thank heavens,” Nefri said in genuine relief.
Siljar held up a small hand. “Do not be overly hasty.”
Nefri’s serene expression never faltered. It rarely did. She’d had centuries of practice in hiding her emotions. To the point that many assumed she no longer possessed them.
Inside, however, a ball of dread was forming in the pit of her stomach. If new trouble was brewing there was no reason to specifically seek her assistance, unless . . .
“This has something to do with the Veil, doesn’t it?”
Siljar gave a slow dip of her head. “It has more to do with what the Veil was created to contain.”
The ball in Nefri’s stomach doubled in size. It had been nearly four centuries ago that she’d approached the Commission asking for sanctuary and been given the medallion that allowed her to lead her clan beyond the Veil.
So far as the world was concerned her only interest was creating a new home for those vampires who sought absolute peace.
Only she and the Oracles knew the truth.
Or actually, only the Oracles knew the truth, she wryly conceded.
She had a few, bare-bones facts and dire warnings. And she’d been fine with that. The less she knew, the easier it was for her to pretend that the paradise she’d created wasn’t built on a cesspit.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
Siljar paced to the ceramic pitcher set on a flat slab of rock. Pouring herself a glass of some golden liquid that smelled remarkably like Hennessy, she tossed it back like a seasoned drunk.
“It is suspected that Gaius came through the rift with the Dark Lord.”
“I heard rumors that he’d been seen during the battle, but no one could say with any certainty what happened to him,” Nefri said. “I assumed he was killed.”
“No, he was recently seen in the lair he used during his stay in this world.”
Nefri’s lips tightened. No one blamed her for Gaius’s betrayal. Well, no one but the aggravating Santiago. He, of course, assumed she was to blame for every evil in the world. The annoying ass.
But she couldn’t help but regret the fact that she hadn’t suspected there was more to Gaius’s desire to become a part of her clan beyond his pretense of grieving for his dead mate.
“Do you believe he intends to cause trouble?” she asked.
“Not the vampire.”
Nefri blinked. “Is this a puzzle?”