Bound By Darkness Page 0,30

felt more annoyance than anger as Rafael drifted toward him, his skeleton-thin fingers caressing the pendant hung around his neck.

“The mage?” he questioned softly.

Tearloch’s lips flattened. He’d just wasted the past two hours searching the tunnels for Sergei Krakov. It was more than a little irritating that the bastard managed to elude him.

“He’s managed to cloak his presence,” he snapped.

“You are certain he went through the portal with you?” Rafael demanded.

Tearloch scowled. “Of course I’m certain. Do you think I could mistake hauling a grown man through a portal from London to Chicago?”

“Then he no doubt has used his powers to escape.” The wizard dismissed his rival with a sneer. “He always was a coward.”

Tearloch hissed at the arrogant claim. He agreed that Sergei was a spineless fool, but that didn’t mean he didn’t need the mage. His gaze stole toward the bundle of blankets that hid the child in the corner of the cavern.

“He might be a coward, but he told the truth when he claimed that he was the best equipped to resurrect the Dark Lord.” His gaze shifted back to the spirit. “He has prepared far longer than you have.”

Rafael tilted his chin to a haughty angle. “He is unworthy to perform such a holy ceremony. I have warned you from the beginning that—”

“I think you’re forgetting who makes the decisions, wizard,” Tearloch interrupted the increasingly familiar complaint.

Rafael had been whispering that they had no need of Sergei since Tearloch had managed to capture the child along with the mage. It was blatantly obvious he wanted Tearloch to get rid of his magical rival, just as he had wanted him to turn his back on his tribesmen.

He’s isolating you... .

Easily sensing he’d pushed too far, the spirit was offering a deep bow of apology.

“No, Master.”

“Don’t call me that,” Tearloch snarled.

Rafael bent until his hairless head scraped the floor. “As you wish.”

With a growl, Tearloch twirled away from the wizard, shoving his fingers through his hair.

“These tunnels are suffocating me,” he rasped. “I need fresh air.”

“You cannot leave the caves. Do not forget you are being hunted.”

Tearloch jerked back toward the wizard with a fierce glare. At the moment he was hot, frustrated, and in the mood to blame the damned wizard for all his troubles.

“I’m not likely to forget. Not when I’m being buried alive like I’m a damned rock troll.” He shuddered. “Why did you insist we come here?”

“These caves were my home for centuries.” Rafael’s own expression was ... loving, as he glanced around the smoothly carved room. Of course, he’d spent the past months in hell. Anything was bound to seem like the Ritz. “My power is greatest here as well as my ability to protect you.”

“It reeks of blood.”

“You know as well as I that the Dark Lord demands a sacrifice for his gifts.”

Tearloch gave another shudder, ancient memories threatening to sear through the fog clouding his mind.

“Yes.”

“Do not waver now, Tearloch.” Without warning, the spirit was standing at Tearloch’s side, his clammy hand touching his shoulder. “Not when we are so close.”

Tearloch shook off his hand, a strange ache pulsing behind his eyes.

“You say we are close and yet you offer more delays,” he growled, struck by a sudden urge to find a place to lie down. He was tired. So tired. “I’m beginning to wonder if there’s a conspiracy among magic-users to prevent the resurrection.”

The wizard allowed a hint of anger to touch his gaunt face. “If you wish to assign blame then you may point your finger at the damnable Weres. It was their battle with the demon lord that destroyed my altar and closed the conduit I had opened to my prince.” His fingers grasped the heavy pendant. “It will take time to restore all that I have lost.”

Tearloch backed away.

He didn’t give a damn about Weres or demon lords or any other pathetic excuses.

The Dark Lord had reached beyond his prison to touch Tearloch with a searing demand to be set free.

Until he’d managed to resurrect his master there would be no peace.

“You have a week,” he snapped, heading toward the opening of the cavern. “Fail me, wizard, and I’ll banish you back to hell.”

Chapter 7

Jaelyn walked through the long, steel-lined corridor, knowing on some level she was dreaming.

Not that it didn’t feel real.

Terrifyingly real.

She shivered at the sensation of the white silk robe that covered her from neck to toe brushing against her skin. At the familiar hum of the florescent lights. At the cool air that