“Why are you here?” the male asked.
Styx went straight to the heart of his concern. There was no need for prolonged explanations. Locke wouldn’t be interested.
“There’s someone who entered our master’s old lair in London to steal the scrolls he kept in his vault.”
“Why would anyone steal the scrolls?”
“They’re passing them off as proclamations from me,” Styx explained.
“Why?”
Styx felt a stab of annoyance. He wasn’t a perfect king. Honestly, he didn’t even want to be king. But he wasn’t crazy, or cruel, or even greedy. It was freaking aggravating to have a horde of demons lurking in the tunnels and plotting to dethrone him.
Or worse.
“I suspect they’re being used to fuel enough anger against me to start a revolution.”
Locke blinked. Obviously, he was caught off guard by Styx’s words. Then he shrugged. “Am I supposed to care?”
“Probably not, but I’m hoping you can help me figure out who could have gotten into the vault.”
There was a long, tense silence. Styx stiffened, prepared for the lightning strike that Locke could create with his power. Thankfully, there was nothing more than a prickle of pain as the male controlled his burst of anger.
“Are you asking if it was me?” Locke finally demanded.
Styx shook his head. He’d already gone to the two most likely vampires to betray him. Now he was seeking information.
“No, you aren’t subtle, Locke. If you wanted me off the throne, you would walk up to my lair and chop off my head.”
The vampire considered Styx’s words. “I’d be more likely to put a stake through your heart. Your neck is as thick as a tree trunk. I’m not sure I have a long enough sword.”
Something deep inside Styx eased. After the death of the Anasso, he’d slammed shut the door on his past. He didn’t want to drown in the memories of all he had lost. Besides, with Darcy at his side, he was far more interested in his future.
But a part of him missed the males he’d considered his family. It was as if a piece of himself was missing.
He was careful to keep his inner thoughts to himself. This wasn’t the time to hope for more than information.
“Which other brothers might want me destroyed?”
“Lago. He hated everyone.”
That had been Styx’s first guess as well. The younger vampire had been a fiery, reckless warrior who’d worshipped the previous Anasso. And he’d personally blamed Styx for the king’s death.
“I just left his lair,” Styx said.
“And?”
“He followed in the path of our master.”
Locke stiffened at Styx’s grim tone. “He’s dead?”
“Worse. He succumbed to madness after feeding from the veins of drug users.” It was the one way a vampire could feel the effects of drugs or alcohol. Unfortunately, it also putrefied their brains. “He’s now sealed in a cage and kept alive by a handful of devoted servants.”
Locke grimaced. “Harsh.”
It was, but it was also the only way to keep the vampire from going on a crazed rampage.
“I also visited Adolfo,” Styx said. Adolfo hadn’t been as rabid in his devotion to the previous Anasso, but he’d never made a secret of the fact that he thought he should be next in line for the throne. Even if that meant sacrificing Styx. “He has a new mate and the start of a clan in Peru. He seems content with his life.” Styx held Locke’s gaze. “Anyone else that might want me dead?”
The male started to shake his head, then seemed to be struck by a sudden thought. “Ian.”
Styx made a sound of surprise. The massive, brutally violent vampire would have been first on his list of suspects if he hadn’t received word a year ago that the male had perished in a battle with a tribe of trolls.
“I thought he’d been destroyed.”
“So did I. It was a rumor his servants put out, but six months ago, he arrived here—uninvited, I might add—wanting to talk,” Locke said.
A thick dread crawled through Styx. Of all the brothers, Ian was the most unpredictable. He’d been unstable for centuries, and it was only because he was a ruthless fighter who had no fear that the old Anasso had allowed him to remain in the clan.
“Talk about what?”
“I don’t have a clue.” Locked folded his arms over his chest. “I told him to go away.”
“Did he?”
“Yep.” A humorless smile twisted Locke’s lips. “Unlike some vampires, he didn’t intrude where he wasn’t wanted.”
Styx shrugged. “I’ve intruded a lot of places I wasn’t wanted.”
“Truer words have never been spoken.”
Styx ignored the insult. “Ian would have the motive to knock me from the throne. He never forgave me for killing our master.”
“No. He was very vocal about his desire to put a stake through your heart,” Locke readily agreed.
Styx grimaced. Why the hell had he agreed to become the Anasso? Being the leader was nothing more than a pain in the ass. Plus, the pay sucked. If he had any sense at all, he’d pack up Darcy, and they’d head to some remote cave. Maybe here in Iceland…It was isolated enough, and the views were spectacular.
The thought of Darcy sliced through his heart. He wasn’t walking away from the throne. His sense of duty wouldn’t let him. So the sooner he could deal with this latest disaster, the sooner he could have his mate back in his bed.
“Do you know where I can find him?”
Locke shook his head. “After the death of the Anasso, he moved from one lair to another.”
Of course he did. Styx ground his fangs together. “Great.”
Locke held out his hand as Styx turned to leave. “There was one thing.”
Styx glanced over his shoulder. “What?”
“He told me to prepare.”
“Prepare for what?”
“The resurrection.”
Styx frowned. “The resurrection of what?”
“I have no idea.”
The two males exchanged a long glance, and Styx felt a pang of regret. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized how much he missed having this vampire in his life.
“Locke.”
“What?”