“Let’s go see our ladies,” Will said, his own eyes locked on Chloe. As they strode across the lawn, he said, “Here we are, both of us with mates, and you a da. Ben and Rónan are making strides. The entire pack is.” He sounded more content than Munro had ever heard him. “Fortune shines upon us.”
“Indeed it does.” And it would continue to.
“Those twins of yours are already close, just like us.” The boys clutched each other’s onesies in sleep. Will sighed. “And just like us, one will always be Hotter.” He buffed his claws.
Munro laughed. “Ah, my bràthair, no’ even if I give you another nine hundred years.”
EPILOGUE
Helvita, Royal Seat of the Vampire Horde
sometime later
“I left my Bride for this?” Lothaire demanded as he and Nïx prowled Helvita’s filthy dungeon. “You owe me, Phenïx.”
“Come on, I know you love recruitment drives. And tonight we might score a ringer for the Møriør war.” Nïx’s hair was a knotted mess, her eyes exhausted. Even the pet bat perched on her shoulder looked tired. “Consider this our post-credits scene.”
He quirked a brow at that. Nïx’s mission actually held an element of danger, even for ancient immortals like the Enemy of Old and the Ever-Knowing One.
This mystically reinforced dungeon had been hexed to prevent unauthorized tracing. So Lothaire couldn’t simply teleport out of here in an emergency. Nïx had utilized a borrowed spell just to gain them entry.
Lothaire asked, “How talented is this ‘ringer’ if they got captured in the first place? To defeat the Møriør, your Vertas will need A-listers like myself,” he said, only to add, “What am I saying? No one is as good a fighter as I am.”
The bat looked unimpressed.
They’d all heard tales of the nearly dozen Møriør. Aside from Lord Darach Lyka, that alliance included a dragon capable of burning worlds, the overlady of witches who could undo the magic of any spellcaster, and an archer whose arrows felled entire armies.
Then there were whispers of giants and other monsters.
But the Vertas wasn’t exactly composed of slouches.
Lothaire said, “Speaking of A-listers . . . thanks for sending Dorada to my hidden kingdom.”
“Is it hidden? I couldn’t tell because it’s so easy to find,” Nïx said. “Anyway, I didn’t send her. She’s very powerful now.”
“Present tense? I thought the taste of her own medicine might have brought her down.”
“Your Wendigo salt secret is as secret as your ‘hidden’ kingdom. And what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”
Then La Dorada was a fearsome adversary indeed. Which meant Lothaire was more legendary than even he supposed. Measure me by the caliber of my foes.
When the corridor they traversed intersected with another, Nïx took a right.
Lothaire ran a finger along the stone wall. “As soon as I defeat and subjugate the Horde, I intend to make improvements to this place.”
“Naughty Lothaire, planning to steal what rightfully belongs to your brother, the legitimate heir.”
“Half brother.” Few knew that he and Kristoff were related, and Lothaire intended to keep that card close to the vest for a while longer. “And just because Helvita rightfully belongs to Kristoff doesn’t mean he’ll ever possess it. How can he fight for what’s his if he never leaves Dacia?” Kristoff was trapped there—by his own thirst for knowledge.
Ah, that thirst must be a family trait.
“You still let him believe you know where Furie is?”
Lothaire had been the one to dump her in the drink, but seismic rifts and unpredictable currents had swept her away like a fragment of a seashell. Oops.
Nïx had only forgiven him for that because he’d had no choice in the matter. He’d been sworn to obey the old Horde king, a crazed regent who’d wanted Furie punished. “Upon my Bride’s urging, I told Kristoff that no one knows where Furie is, but he won’t believe me. Me! A vampire who can’t lie.”
“I know where she is.” Nïx’s eyes grew silvery with grief. “Her location was recently confirmed.”
“Let me guess. You’re leaving Furie to rot, just like you did me.”
“I’m not to rescue her. It mustn’t be me.”
“It’s supposed to be Kristoff, isn’t it? If he rescues her, then she’ll fall at his feet with gratitude.” Lothaire frowned. The two of them united would bring new meaning to the term power couple. A disagreeable development.
“Oh, if only the world followed Lothaire logic.” Eyes clearing, Nïx met his gaze. “Be warned, Enemy of Old, one day your brother will know a great many things. His garnered wisdom will equal even yours.”
Lothaire scoffed. “Impossible. Do you know how many I had to drink to become the most learned vampire in this realm?”
At another cross corridor, she took a left, then backtracked to go right. Not a good sign.
“You look exhausted,” he said. “Should we go ahead and surrender to the Møriør? Or talk about a replacement general for the Vertas? Asking for a friend.”
Nïx’s bat screeched its outrage, the sound echoing. Lothaire and Nïx froze.
The Bloodroot Forest of his nightmares lay outside these very walls. Lothaire stifled a shudder, grating, “Muzzle your flying rat, Valkyrie.”
Nïx glared. “Bertil can’t be contained. Also, you don’t have friends besides me.” She had alternately been his nemesis and his boon companion over the millennia.
She resumed her way through the maze, taking them closer to the mystery prisoner.
“You’ll never get a mate if you don’t lose the fanged accessory,” Lothaire said. “The cockblockage is strong in that one.”
“So harsh toward a fellow bloodsucker? And on that subject, what do you know about scârbăs?”
Used to haphazard segues from Nïx, he said, “A handful of Horde elders once knew a spell to make vampire hybrids out of demons. Outcasts among the Lore, scârbăs belong to neither demon nor vampire factions—yet are more powerful than both species put together.”
And more volatile. Though they were extremely rare, Lothaire had been imprisoned with one in the Order’s installation. “There’s a scârbă in this dungeon, isn’t there? I’ve always wondered how they’re made.” The puzzle to end all puzzles. Yet that knowledge had died with those Horde elders. Allegedly. He eyed Nïx. “Do you know the magic?”