Bound By Darkness Page 0,40
force to make both men shudder at the promise of pain.
“I am beginning to think the term ‘children’ would be more appropriate,” she said in dry tones.
The men grimaced in unison before Salvatore gave a wave of his hand.
“Continue.”
“We entered your clansman’s lair... .”
“Clansman?” the Were interrupted with a frown.
“Caine,” Santiago clarified.
Salvatore gave a sound of disgust. The King of Weres still blamed the one-time cur for being a pawn of the demon lord intent on destroying the werewolves. Caine’s transformation to a pureblood hadn’t dimmed Salvatore’s desire to eat him for breakfast.
Literally.
“Did you find any trace of them?” Salvatore demanded.
“No, they had disappeared,” Nefri explained.
“And it didn’t occur to you to follow?”
“There was no means to track them.”
“A pity,” Salvatore retorted, “but I’m still not hearing what brings you to my humble abode.”
Nefri shrugged. “If I cannot follow her trail forward, then I must follow it backward.”
“Backward? Is that some sort of vampire logic?”
“If we can retrace their steps then we can speak with those who saw them last.” Without warning, the female vampire drifted toward the nearby shelves, her beautiful face distracted. “It might tell us if they were traveling to a particular destination or if they feared they were being followed. If nothing else they might have mentioned if they were to meet anyone in Chicago.”
Seemingly impressed by Nefri’s logic, Salvatore slid a glance in Santiago’s direction.
“Intelligent as well as beautiful—you’re in trouble, amico mio.”
Santiago wisely ignored the taunt, suddenly realizing why Nefri had brought them to these particular cellars.
She had followed Cassandra’s scent to this location.
“You failed to mention that Cassandra paid you a visit,” he said in cold accusation.
Salvatore scowled. “That’s because she didn’t.”
“Are you certain?” Santiago demanded, shifting so he could keep an eye on Nefri as she ran a hand over a wooden shelf.
The golden eyes glowed with an eerie power. “No one calls me a liar and survives.”
“Keep your fur on,” he snarled. “Maybe she visited your mate while you were out.”
Salvatore looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Harley has been desperate to be reunited with her sister. If Cassandra had dropped by, then I would have heard every detail, no matter how insignificant, of their reunion.”
“Maybe Cassandra asked her to keep the meeting a secret.”
“Obviously you’ve never been mated,” Salvatore muttered. “She wasn’t here.”
“She was.” Nefri intruded into the argument, giving a sharp shove of the shelves.
There was the sound of creaking wood; then the shelves swung to the side, revealing a cement-lined room the size of a walk-in closet. The perfect size for a prison cell. At the moment it was empty, but clutching the medallion in her hand, Nefri briefly closed her eyes and muttered a low word. The air stirred and Santiago stiffened in shock at the unmistakable scent of a female pureblood.
“Cassandra.”
“Her scent was masked by a spell,” Nefri explained.
For the first time since their entrance, Hess moved, reminding Santiago that he was more than a lump of muscle.
“And Caine the Traitor,” he rasped, his eyes glowing the red of a cur on the point of shifting.
Salvatore sent his lieutenant a warning glare before brushing past Nefri to enter the cement cell. He smoothly crouched down to study the dried blood on the floor.
“Can you tell us how long ago?” he demanded of Nefri.
“Two, maybe three weeks.”
Santiago moved to stand next to the Were, still not entirely certain the mangy beast was as baffled as he pretended to be by the revelation of Cassandra and Caine’s presence in the wine cellars.
“Why would they sneak into your lair?”
Salvatore straightened with unnerving speed, standing nose to nose with Santiago.
“Careful, bloodsucker.”
With a click of her tongue Nefri shooed them away from the blood stains, still clutching the medallion in her hand. As she whispered a low word there was another shift in the air, revealing a tangle of scents that had been hidden by illusion.
Santiago muttered a curse, glancing at the stain. “It’s Caine’s blood. He must have been trying to protect Cassandra.”
“Si.” Salvatore absently agreed, his head tilted back as he breathed deeply of the stale air. “I smell vamp.” He stabbed Santiago with a suspicious glare. “Do you recognize the scent?”
“ No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“It’s ...” Santiago struggled to explain. “Missing. I can sense it was a vampire, but there’s a void around him.”
The Were scowled. “An amulet?”
“No.” Santiago shook his head, as confused as the Were. “The vampire isn’t hidden, it’s more like he, or she, has been stripped of his identity.”
“Impossible.”
“Then you