“Why?” Styx loudly demanded. He had no idea what the spell would actually do, but he didn’t want to find out.
Ian sent him an impatient scowl. “What?”
“Why now?” Styx asked. He just wanted to keep the male talking until he could get close enough to strike. “Why didn’t you use the scroll as soon as you discovered the Anasso was dead?”
A shadow passed over the male’s face, as if he was haunted by a dark memory.
“I wasn’t in my right mind after I leaned what had happened.”
“You mean you went insane?”
Ian’s features hardened at the question. “My servants were forced to chain me in my lair to keep me from walking into the sunlight to end my grief. Eventually, I regained command of my emotions. I no longer wanted to die. I wanted you to die.” A layer of ice flowed across the floor, threatening to freeze Styx’s boots to the stone. “But, more importantly, I wanted my king returned.”
Styx shrugged. He had no sympathy for this male. He was a savage beast who should have been put down centuries ago.
“Where did you get the scroll?”
“It was left behind in the hidden vaults of our London lair.” Ian confirmed Styx’s theory.
“Is that also where you found the scrolls that convinced Maryam that I was intending to enslave the vampires, not to mention confining the Weres to their homeland?”
Ian jerked, as if he was shocked that Styx had managed to figure out that he was responsible for manipulating Maryam into betraying him. His jaws clenched with annoyance, but he forced a smile to his lips.
“Very good.”
Styx stepped forward. “Why her?”
Ian waved a dismissive hand. “I traveled with the master to deal with the clan chief of St. Petersburg after her refusal to bend the knee. After the chief was dead, I watched her mate battle through a dozen warriors trying reach the Anasso to annihilate him. That much pain and fury would never go away. It festers until it must be purged.” Another layer of ice formed on the floor. “I know.”
“You used her to distract me so you could enter these caves,” Styx said.
Ian unrolled the parchment, preparing to read the incantation written on it in blood. “I needed the ashes to bind the spell to my master.”
Styx lifted his sword. It was soon going to reach the point where he had no choice. He either launched his attack or the bastard completed the spell.
“But you didn’t dare confront my Ravens,” he taunted, no longer trying to disguise his approach.
Ian squared his shoulders, clearly welcoming the impending battle. “There was also the hope that the rebels might get rid of you.” A savage snarl curled his lips, revealing the fully extended fangs. “Now I’m glad they didn’t. I want to kill you now and then again in the past. Double the pleasure.”
“Better vampires than you have tried.” Styx stepped to the side, slowly circling closer. “And failed.”
* * * *
Brigette easily followed Roban through the vast mansion, despite her weakened condition. She didn’t need her wolf to track the trail of blood that stained the peach carpets. Obviously, the male hadn’t been able to dislodge the dagger stuck in the center of his back.
Thank the goddess. Although she had pulled the knife from her chest, she no longer had the ability to heal like a regular Were. The wound in her chest not only hurt like a bitch, but it was draining her strength at an alarming rate.
Heading up the stairs, Brigette followed the blood spatter to the end of a long, paneled hallway. Then, without hesitation, she pushed open the door and stepped into a large room with a peach velvet sofa and two rocking chairs beneath a bay window.
She frowned. This wasn’t the master suite. This was…
Horror clenched her heart as she glanced toward the opening, where she could see into the connecting room. Inside, she could see the bunk beds and piles of toys.
A nursery.
No. No, no, no.
Struggling to think clearly, Brigette was forced to shove aside her revulsion as Roban stepped out of the inner room. The male came to an abrupt halt at the sight of her, a flush of anger staining his face.
“You.”
Brigette spread her feet and prepared for battle. “Like a bad penny.”
“Christ.” The male stepped forward, lifting his arm to reveal the crossbow he held in his hand. “Why won’t you die?”
Brigette shrugged. “A question I’ve asked myself.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Roban glanced over his shoulder. “It’s too late to stop me.”
It felt as if her stomach dropped to the tips of her toes. “You’ve planted the bomb in the nursery?” She returned her gaze to his face, studying the blunt features that were tight with pain and something else…not regret. But resignation. As if he understood he’d crossed a line, but was unable to stop his evil compulsion. “What’s wrong with you?”
Roban licked his lips; then, with an effort, he was squaring his shoulders. “You were right.”
“Right about what?”
“The only way to become the king is to defeat Salvatore.”
She frowned. When Roban had been describing the device, it had sounded as if it had a limited range. So why not put it in Salvatore’s bedroom?
The answer hit her as Roban glanced away in embarrassment. “But you can’t. Not in a fair fight,” she said.
“No.” Roban shrugged. “But after he’s weakened by the death of his pups, I’ll have the chance I’ve always dreamed of.”
“That’s why Stewart was arguing with you,” she spat out, each word thick with loathing. “He realized that you weren’t trying to kill Salvatore, but were cowardly intent on murdering those innocent babies.”
“He was willing to do anything for cash. Until I asked the location of the nursery,” Roban muttered. “I could see he was getting cold feet.”
“So you killed him.”
A sour scent of desperation tainted the air. The male was on the edge of madness.
“He shouldn’t have developed a conscience.” Roban turned his back to stab her with an accusing glare. “Just as you shouldn’t have.”
“You’re probably right.”
Brigette gripped the knife in her hand. Then, without warning, she leaped forward. Roban had been expecting her attack, and the second she moved, he was pressing the trigger on the crossbow.
A silver arrow flew through the air, heading straight for her heart. Brigette whipped around so the projectile hit her in the side. It plunged easily through her flesh, scraping a rib before penetrating her lung.