“True.” Viper’s dark eyes flashed with a glittering hatred. “Maryam has proven to be a cunning opponent. She might have expected you to disrupt her initial plans.”
“If I was leading this rebellion, I’d assume that shit would go south,” Styx agreed. “And I would also make sure that plan B was a knockout punch.”
Viper grabbed the bottle of whiskey and headed toward one of the chaise lounges. Flopping onto the brocade cushions, he opened the bottle and made himself comfortable.
“I’ll stay here until the bitch is captured.”
“What about Shay?”
“She’s staying with Dante and Abby.”
Styx nodded. Dante’s mate might have started her life as a human, but she’d been infused with the essence of a goddess. She could kill with a single touch.
“Formidable protection,” he murmured.
Viper took a swig of whiskey, straight from the bottle. “Don’t tell her that. She thinks she’s there to protect them.”
There was a sharp tug on Styx’s heart at the fond resignation in his friend’s expression.
“Yeah, the only way I could convince Darcy to remain in Kansas City was to tell her the pups need her,” he said, the aching need to hold his mate in his arms almost overwhelming.
The two males exchanged a glance filled with a shared pain at the necessity of putting duty to their people above their own needs.
“Any luck on tracking down who might be the mystery manipulator?” Viper turned the conversation. There was no point in wallowing in pity. Being a leader meant sacrifices.
“I suspect it might be Ian.”
“Ian?” Viper stared at him, almost as if he was wondering if Styx was joking. “I thought he was dead.”
“We all did. Presumably, the word of his demise by his servants was greatly exaggerated.”
“Why would they claim he was dead?”
“That’s an intriguing question with no answer.”
Viper paused, as if trying to imagine why anyone would pretend to be dead. It was a dangerous game, considering that any demons nearby would pillage the lair as soon as word got out that the vampire was dead.
“Who told you that he was still alive?” he finally asked.
“Locke.”
Viper arched a brow. “You went to see Locke?”
“He might live in isolation, but he isn’t a hermit. I thought he might have information.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt his ability to collect the latest news. I’m just shocked that he would be willing to speak with you.”
Styx grimaced. His friend’s surprise was predictable, but it still hurt to think of how many relationships had been shattered when he’d been forced to destroy the former king. Locke was his brother, but now they might as well be strangers.
Or enemies.
“I’m not sure I would say that he was willing,” Styx admitted. “He did, however, tell me that Ian showed up at his lair in Iceland a few months ago.”
Viper studied him with a dark, searching gaze. “You believe him?”
Styx considered the question. Once he’d returned to Chicago, he’d been instantly confronted with the news that the rebels were on the move and that Maryam was plotting to destroy thousands of demons. He hadn’t had much time to reflect on his conversation with Locke.
“For now,” he finally said. Unless the former Raven had changed drastically over the past few years, he had no talent for lying.
“If Ian was pretending to be dead, why would he seek out Locke?”
“Locke wasn’t sure.” Styx’s lips twisted. “He offered Ian the same lack of welcome that he offered me.”
“Locke always was stubborn.”
Styx sent his friend a sly smile. “Isn’t there a saying about a pot and black kettle?”
Viper blinked, his expression one of faux innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not stubborn. I’m firm in my resolve.”
“Shay says you’re as firm in your resolve as a Missouri mule.”
Viper held up the whiskey in a mocking toast. “True.” Taking a deep drink, he set the bottle on the Persian carpet. “Did Locke tell you anything about Ian that might help? Like where we can find him?”
“No. The only thing he said was that Ian mentioned something about a resurrection.”
Viper looked as confused as Styx felt. “What does that mean?”
“I have no idea.” Styx started to shake his head in frustration, only to hesitate. Resurrection. It could mean a lot of things. A return to old days. Or a birth of new days. Even bringing the dead back to life, although vampires considered creating zombies an abomination. Besides, Ian hated everyone. He wouldn’t try to bring them back from the dead. Styx abruptly froze. Ian hated everyone…except the former Anasso. “Shit.” Styx turned his head toward the window. It was dark, but he could sense the coming dawn.
Viper rose to his feet, obviously sensing the tension that tightened Styx’s muscles into knots.
“What is it?”
“I know where Ian is.”
* * * *
Xi didn’t know how far they’d traveled. They’d been running for over two hours, cutting through empty fields and down gravel roads as Brigette followed Maryam’s trail. He knew that they had angled west, and that they had avoided any cities, probably because they suspected that Styx had “kill on sight” orders sent to every vampire in the world.
As dawn neared, Xi expected the desperate traitors to find some abandoned farmhouse or hidden cave where they could spend the daylight hours. Instead, the trail led them to a highway that cut through the rolling fields and, at last, to an aging motel that was miles from the nearest civilization.
Halting in the shadows of a hedgerow, Xi watched as two forms entered the room at one end of the U-shaped building. Maryam and Roban. Satisfaction blasted through him. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Brigette’s nose. Even without her wolf, she possessed a far greater sense of smell than he did. Still, he wanted visual confirmation that the female vampire hadn’t been able to trick them into chasing a false trail.
“Gotcha,” Brigette muttered, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling from the long chase. Even her curls were more fiery than usual, cascading down her back in wild abandon. She looked exactly as she was meant to look. A powerful predator who loved being on the hunt.
He reached to lightly touch her arm. He didn’t want her rushing in and giving away their presence. Not until they knew what the two traitors were doing here. And, more importantly, if they were alone.