Oh . . . damn. She did.
Even the Oracles would agree there was nothing more vital than finding Gaius. And more importantly, what was currently controlling him.
Of course, she had to be sure that he could actually produce results before she agreed to anything.
“How do I know this is not a trick?” she demanded.
He scowled, as if offended by her question. “Why would I want to trick you?”
“Your male pride was obviously wounded by my return to my people without first gaining your approval.”
His lips curled back to expose his fangs. Like all males, he didn’t want to admit he might be unreasonable. “I’ll admit your disappearance annoyed me, but not because of my pride.” He deliberately paused. “It was the coward’s choice.”
A dangerous silence filled the kitchen, broken only by Levet’s gasp of shock.
“I . . . umm . . . I think I will go investigate the upstairs,” the tiny gargoyle muttered, his tail twitching as he hurried out of the kitchen.
Nefri and Santiago ignored his abrupt departure, both busy glaring at one another.
At last, Nefri found her voice. “Did you just call me a coward?”
Santiago didn’t so much as flinch at the lethal edge in her voice. Something she might have admired if she hadn’t been so infuriated.
“I said you made a coward’s choice,” he corrected her.
“Did you ever consider for one minute that my decision to leave had nothing to do with you?”
“No.”
“That I have duties that are more important than appeasing your ego?” she grimly continued.
“You—” Santiago bit off his words, hissing as the sharp stench of rotting flesh filled the air.
“Sacrebleu,” Levet called from above them. “You will want to see this.”
Santiago rolled his eyes heavenward. “Damn that gargoyle.”
Chapter 4
Styx’s lair north of Chicago
The vast mansion on the north side of Chicago looked more like a palace than a lair for one of the most powerful and feared vampires in the world.
There were acres of marble floors, sweeping staircases, and lofted ceilings that were painted with museum-grade artwork. The hallways were lined with fluted columns and shallow alcoves that held Grecian statues. The furnishings were straight out of Versailles and there was enough gilding to make a sensible demon shudder in horror.
The lower dungeons, however, were straight out of the Pentagon’s wet dreams.
Dug deep beneath the mansion, the spiderweb of cement corridors led to a variety of cells. Some lined with lead, others with steel, and still others with silver. And all of them heavily hexed to prevent even a spark of magic.
Which was a true pain in the ass for Sally Grace.
Standing in the center of the cell, the powerful witch considered all the bad decisions that had led to this particular moment. There were a number of them.
The decision to run instead of trying to kill her crazy-ass mother.
The decision to give in to the Dark Lord’s promises of power in return for becoming his servant.
The decision to help the vampire Gaius and his idiot cur partners in their attempts to capture the prophet and her Were protector.