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?”
“A puzzle with too many pieces.”
By all the gods, why couldn’t Oracles just say what they wanted without all the mumbo jumbo?
“Why are you troubled by Gaius?” Her tone was carefully bland. “Without the power of the Dark Lord he should be easy enough to defeat.”
“Because of this.” Setting her empty glass on the flat stone, Siljar picked up a folded newspaper and handed it to Nefri.
She read the top of the front page. A small town newspaper from Louisiana? She continued to skim down to the lead headline.
“‘An outbreak of violence in southern Louisiana’?” she quoted out loud before lifting her head to meet Siljar’s piercing scrutiny. “I assume this is somehow relevant?”
“That is where Gaius is hidden.”
Nefri remained confused. “You think he’s responsible for the violence?”
“I am not entirely certain.” There was a long pause, as if Siljar was holding a silent debate with herself. Then the tiny demon squared her shoulders. “This must stay between us.”
Oh, those words were never good. Even worse, Siljar waved a hand to put up an invisible barrier so her words couldn’t be overheard despite the fact they were sitting in the most highly secure spot in the entire universe.
“As you wish.”
“I have sensed the presence of an old enemy,” Siljar confessed, her expression troubled. “It is very faint, but I . . . fear.”
“An old enemy?”
“The one the Veil was created to keep from this world.”
Nefri rose to her feet before she even knew she was moving. “But how is that possible?” she demanded in shock.
“It is my suspicion that when the Dark Lord was destroyed it left Gaius stripped bare of all his defenses. He was dangerously vulnerable.”
“Did he attempt to travel beyond the Veil?”
“No, but he still possesses the medallion.”
It’d been an unpleasant shock to everyone when it was discovered that Gaius had a medallion similar to her own. And that he’d intended to use it to break the Dark Lord out of his prison.
“Forgive me, but I still don’t understand.”
Siljar lowered her gaze to the heavy gold medallion that hung around Nefri’s neck. Scrolled with ancient spells, the medallion shimmered with a glow that had nothing to do with the