Darkness Avenged (Guardians of Eternity) Page 0,106

she said as she at last broke the thick silence, as always her nerves making her babble like an idiot.

He came to a halt directly in front of her, his eyes glowing with an odd radiance. “Witch.”

“I’ve told you a thousand times, it’s Sally,” she snapped before she could halt the impulsive words. “It’s not that hard to remember.”

The vampire shrugged. “Your name doesn’t matter.”

Sally sucked in a deep breath, ignoring the heavy scent of vampires that filled the musky air. Wasn’t there some sort of saying about catching more flies with honey than vinegar?

“No, I don’t suppose it does,” she muttered, pinning a stiff smile to her lips. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have gone to Styx, but I”—her smile widened as she was struck by inspiration—“I was worried about you.”

The lean face remained devoid of expression, but the glow in his eyes flared with something that looked like hunger. “How very extraordinary that you should be acquainted with my host,” he said.

“Host?” She wrapped her arms around her waist as a shiver shook her body. “I don’t understand.”

He acted as if he didn’t hear her, the unnerving gaze sliding over her pale face. “Perhaps it was merely fate ensuring that you would be available when I needed you.”

“You . . . need me?” With a frown she glanced toward the male vampire who was hovering near the motionless female, pretending he wasn’t listening to the conversation although his tension was a palpable force in the air. He didn’t behave like an eager accomplice, not even when he’d kidnapped her from her bedroom, but it could all be an act. For now she had to assume he was one of the enemy. At last she glanced back to Gaius. “You didn’t bring me here to punish me?”

He tilted his head to the side in a distinctly un-Gaius-like motion. “Punish you?”

“For going to Styx.”

A smile that was more terrifying than reassuring curled his lips. “You aren’t here for punishment.”

“No?”

“No.”

She shifted beneath the glowing gaze, feeling as if he were rummaging around inside her.

Even worse, she was beginning to suspect that the glow in his eyes was more than just madness or the compulsion she’d first assumed. He looked . . . possessed. As if he had been taken over by another creature.

It was freaking creepy.

“Then why?”

Without warning, Gaius (or whoever the heck he was now) turned to point at the hole that Roke had punched into the wall. “Because of that.”

Sally was briefly disoriented, as much from the sudden realization that she could actually sense Roke through their bond despite the distance (if she hadn’t been neck deep in trouble she might have wondered what was causing his frantic desperation). As from the struggle to accept that Gaius had some other reason for kidnapping her than mere retribution for tattling on him to Styx.

“The safe?” she asked in confusion; then she gave a sudden blink. “No. The book.”

“Yes.”

She hesitated, hoping her sluggish mind would catch up with the rapidly shifting situation. “You want me to break the spell?”

Gaius made a sound of disgust. As if she was unbearably stupid.

He’d get no argument from her.

“There’s only one way to break the spell and destroy the book.”

She frowned. “Only one?”

Gaius nodded. “You die.”

The words were said with such indifference that it took a second for Sally to react.

“No.” She took a stumbling step backward, wondering if this was some hideous nightmare. “No, I have the counterspell brewing at Styx’s lair.”

Gaius waved a hand. “A worthless concoction.”

She pressed a hand to her racing heart, trying desperately to hold back her panic. “How do you know?” she forced herself to ask. “I can promise you that my brews are more potent than most.”

“There is no counterspell because it’s sorcery.”

Sorcery? She shook her head.

There were all types of magic.

Spells conjured by witches and wizards, both white and black. Demon magic that called on their natural powers. And the gifts of magic that were bestowed to prophets and other individuals blessed by fate.

Or cursed.

But sorcery was supposed to be an ancient magic that came from a place deeper than spells brewed in a cauldron or even the bloody altars.

It came from the very soul, devouring a piece of a witch’s life force with every use.

“I’ve never . . .” She shook her head. “I thought it was an urban legend.”

“No legend, although from what I’ve discovered of this world, the magic is not nearly as potent as it used to be,” the creature that used