Roban eyed her through the bars, clearly pleased to see her caged. “Making sure you don’t have the chance to stab Maryam in the back.”
“Does she know that you’re doing this?”
Roban shrugged. “Maryam, on occasion, allows her heart to rule her head. That’s when I need to step in and protect her.”
“Typical male,” she jeered. “Thinking you know what’s best for a female.”
His jaw tightened, as if she’d touched a nerve. A minor victory as he stepped back and flashed a taunting smile.
“I’ve sacrificed everything to be with Maryam as she leads this rebellion. One way or another, I intend to see her succeed.” He eyed her behind the bars. “Starting with ensuring a quick trip for you to the netherworld.”
Brigette shuddered. Roban knew nothing of the netherworld. Or the grinding agony of being trapped in the evil darkness that had held Brigette captive.
“I’ve survived worse.”
He smiled with an evil anticipation. “I put a bomb on the door, so if you open it, you’ll die. But if you don’t open it before Maryam leaves the tunnel, you’ll die. I win either way.” He gave an airy wave of his hand before he headed down the passage. “Bye, bye, Brigette. The world will be a better place without you in it.”
Her heart sank to her toes as she glanced toward the small box attached to the lock.
“Bastard.”
Chapter 13
Styx stepped out of the portal and glanced around the remote landscape. He’d never been in Iceland, but he realized that the rugged terrain, with its sharply angled mountains and impressive glaciers, was a perfect spot for a vampire who wanted to live in seclusion. Plus there was a stunning view of the nearby bay.
Cautiously allowing his senses to spread outward, Styx made sure there were no hidden dangers. The scent of ice sprites floated in the air, along with a nearby den of minks. And, more distantly, the scent of copper.
Ah. Just what he was hoping to smell.
Turning his head, he spoke to the imp on the opposite side of the portal. “Leave this open,” he commanded, his gaze skimming over the craggy rocks and tufts of purple flowers that filled the cracks between them. At the top of the nearest hill, he could see a narrow opening. “There’s a better-than-average chance I’m going to have to make a quick getaway.”
Confident his servant would keep the portal ready for a speedy retreat, Styx adjusted the large sword strapped across his back and started to climb the rocks.
Over the past hours, he’d visited two of his former brothers. One in Taiwan and another in Peru. Neither had been able to shed light on who might be responsible for manipulating Maryam into creating a rebellion. On the other hand, he’d been able to scratch them off the list of possible suspects.
Now on to the next.
Reaching the opening in the volcanic rock at the top of the hill, he squeezed into the barren cave, a task that would have been easier if he wasn’t so wide. Or so tall. And didn’t have a sword the size of a javelin.
Scraping his leather pants and detaching patches of skin, Styx at last stood in the middle of the cramped space. He could still smell copper, which meant he was in the right place, but there was obviously an illusion that covered the opening to the male’s hidden lair.
“Locke,” he called out, although he didn’t doubt for a second the vampire had sensed his arrival the moment he stepped out of the portal.
His suspicion was confirmed when a low, husky male voice floated through the darkness.
“Take one more step and you’re trespassing.”
Styx held up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I’m just here to ask a few questions.”
“Not interested.”
“It will only take a minute.”
“Not. Interested.”
Styx shook his head. The only thing his former brothers had in common was the fact that they were as stubborn as hell. Oh, and epically lethal.
“I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist,” Styx said, the ground trembling beneath his feet as he released a hint of his power.
There was the sound of a footstep, and Locke stepped through the illusion at the back of the cave.
The ancient vampire was shorter than Styx, and less broad through the shoulders, but physical size had no bearing on the power a vampire possessed. The very air snapped and sizzled with electric shocks as Locke entered the space.
Styx shivered as the unseen current crawled over him. It didn’t hurt, but it was a warning.
Lowering his hands, Styx studied his old friend. Locke had been with the former Anasso before Styx had joined the clan. The older male had always been standoffish, preferring to spend long chunks of time by himself. Styx assumed it had something to do with the star-shaped burn on the side of his neck. It was whispered among the Ravens that Locke’s sire had enjoyed torturing his children by leaving them tied to the floor and opening tiny holes to let in sunlight. And that the former Anasso had rescued him.
That would certainly explain the male’s devotion to the King of the Vampires, even when it became obvious the king had rotted his brain to a deranged mush.
Beyond the scar, however, he was as perfect as every other vampire. He had dark gold hair that was chopped at his shoulders and pale blue eyes rimmed with gold. His features were pale and sharply carved. He was dressed in a black Henley and jeans, along with heavy black boots.
“You think because you crowned yourself the Anasso you can come here and order me around?” Locke demanded, strolling forward.
“I’m not here as the Anasso. I’m here as your brother.”
Locke arched a brow. “A little late, isn’t it…brother?”
Styx nodded without hesitation. He had a thousand reasons for not reaching out to the former Ravens.
He’d been overwhelmed by his new duties. He’d taken a mate who was deliciously distracting. He was mourning the loss of their former master…blah, blah, blah.
The truth was, he’d been ashamed. Not for killing the Anasso. The bastard had gone beyond the point of salvation. But for not having had the balls to destroy him sooner.
It would have saved a lot of pain and distress for all of them.
“Yes.” He resisted the urge to reach out. “It is late. I’m sorry.”
The older vampire made a sound of disgust. “Are we supposed to kiss and make nice now?”
“You try to kiss me and my mate will rip out your heart and eat it. But we could make nice.”
The electricity sizzled over Styx, but his attempt to lighten the mood had at least eased the promise of death from Locke’s expression. Progress, right?