Sacrifice of Darkness: A Guardians of Eternity Novella Read online

  “His presence is a direct challenge to my authority,” Javad said in icy tones.

  Viper wasn’t satisfied. “You’re the boss in Vegas. Send one of your employees to deal with the bastard. You pay them to take out the trash, don’t you?”

  “Vynom’s not particularly powerful, but he’s cunning and utterly immoral. I’m not going to risk my staff.”

  Viper arched a brow. “And that’s the only reason you insist on being the one to go after him?”

  Javad met Viper’s smoldering dark gaze. There was no way to lie. The older vampire knew him too well.

  “No, that’s not the only reason.”

  “Javad, you’re one of the most frightening warriors I’ve ever known,” Viper said in somber tones. “And that’s saying something.”

  It was. This male was best buds with Styx, the King of Vampires. The towering six-foot-five Anasso was rumored to have enough power to collapse entire cities. Something Javad had done once or twice in the past.

  “But?” Javad prompted.

  Viper reached out to touch the small medallion that was hung around Javad’s neck. The older male understood that it was Javad’s most prized possession even if he didn’t know the reason.

  “But emotions are the enemy of any fighter. This is too personal.” Viper murmured. “If you don’t want to send one of your people, then I’ll deal with Vynom.”

  Javad knew his master was right. The grinding hatred he felt toward his sire was bound to cloud his judgement. But there was no way in hell he was going to allow anyone else to confront the male who’d tortured and abused him to make a fortune.

  “This meeting is overdue. I have to deal with my former master once and for all.” Thankfully, Javad’s voice was calm. “For my own sanity.”

  There was a long silence as if Viper were considering the likelihood of talking Javad into letting him deal with Vynom. At last, accepting that he would have better luck stopping the sun from rising, Viper lowered his hand and stepped back.

  “First, you have to find the club,” he reminded Javad. “It’ll be protected by illusions.”

  Vampires had many powers, but sensing magic wasn’t one of them. “I have several fey on the payroll. They should be able to locate the place.”

  “I have something better,” Viper assured him.

  “What?”

  “Not what. Who.”

  Javad frowned. Was Viper referring to his mate? He hadn’t heard the beautiful demon had a special talent for finding illusions…

  Abruptly, Javad realized exactly who Viper meant.

  “No.” He shook his head in violent repudiation. “Oh, no.”

  Viper grimaced. “I hate to admit it, but he’s the best. If you’re serious about confronting your old master, you need to find those pits before Vynom discovers you’re coming to destroy him.”

  Shit. Javad’s shoulders slumped. Viper was right. If he wanted to catch his sire by surprise, he had to locate him before anyone discovered that he’d been asking questions.

  “Fine,” he growled. “Have him meet me at the Viper’s Nest. But, if he’s not there by midnight, I’m leaving without him.”

  A slow, mysterious smile curved Viper’s lips.

  Three hours later, Javad understood his master’s wicked sense of amusement. The older vampire hadn’t been able to convince Javad to give up his thirst for revenge. Still, he had managed to ensure that the journey was as uncomfortable as possible. No, wait. Uncomfortable didn’t cover his time spent in the company of the miniature gargoyle.

  Aggravating on an epic scale was more apt.

  Levet claimed to be a gargoyle, but he was less than three feet tall with gray, leathery skin, stunted horns, and large, fairy-like wings that shimmered in brilliant blues with crimson and gold. Javad suspected the creature had been sent from the netherworld specifically to torment any demon unfortunate enough to cross his path.

  Mile after mile, the gargoyle had led him across the hard-packed earth, his mouth never shutting. He claimed to be a knight in shining armor who saved the world regularly. He spoke of his close and personal connections to the King of Vampires as well as the new Queen of the Merfolk, who he described in tedious detail.

  Then there were the endless questions.

  Did Javad personally choose who could enter the club? Did Javad cheat at cards? Did Javad know Elvis…

  “Are you deliberately leading us in circles?” Javad snapped at last as they rounded a Joshua tree that he was certain they’d passed an hour before. Did they all look exactly the same?

  Levet glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowed. “Why would I lead us in circles?” he asked with a slight French accent.

  Javad scowled. “Because you’re an aggravating pest.”

  The creature stuck out his tongue before returning his attention to the low line of hills just ahead of them.

  “We are close,” he said.

  Javad glanced around with a strange prickle of unease. He’d been in Vegas long enough to spend time in the desert. But his visits were usually spent tracking down a customer who owed him money or feeding on one of the sand sprites who lurked among the scrub brush near the edge of the city. He hadn’t wandered through the vast emptiness, completely exposed.

  It was unnerving.

  “That’s what you said twenty minutes ago,” he reminded the gargoyle.

  The fairy wings fluttered with what Javad assumed was irritation. “I cannot concentrate if you are forever napping at me.”

  Napping? Javad frowned before giving a resigned shake of his head. “Nagging?”

  “Oui. Yak, yak, yak.”

  The ground shook as Javad struggled to contain his temper. It should have been easy. He’d devoted centuries to gaining complete mastery over his emotions. It was the one thing he could control. But something about the stunted creature set his fangs on edge.

  “You—”

  “This way,” Levet rudely interrupted, waddling toward a large rock formation that rose from the desert floor like a skyscraper.

  “I’m going to have a long conversation with Viper when I get back to Vegas,” he growled, reluctantly following the creature. It wasn’t like he had much choice. He couldn’t find the pits without Levet.

  “When you talk to him, would you remind the leech that it was not my fault that his silly car ran off the road and into a pole? I could not know a cat would wander into the street as I was turning the corner.” He clicked his tongue. “He has been a poopy-head for weeks.”

  Javad muttered a startled curse. Levet had taken one of Viper’s beloved cars on a joyride? Christ. Grown orcs wouldn’t be that brave.

  “You have more courage than brains,” he muttered. “Of course, that’s not saying much.”

  Levet ignored him as he halted next to the rock formation. “There is an illusion here.”

  Javad moved to stand next to the gargoyle. He couldn’t see anything but rocks. He would need a beacon specifically tuned to vampires to lead him through the illusion. Or a three-foot gargoyle, who was giving him a headache.

  “Is it the pits?”

  Levet wrinkled his nose. “It smells like pits. Why are they always so stinky?”

  Javad could tell the gargoyle that the smell came from a toxic brew of fear and hate and desperation. Instead, he squared his shoulders, anticipation surging through him.

  At last. Reaching up, he touched the medallion hung around his neck.

  Vynom was about to die. Justice would be served, not only for himself, but also for all the innocents who’d suffered because of the male’s insatiable greed.

  “Let’s go.”

  “Wait.” Levet abruptly reached out to grab Javad’s arm.

  Javad shook off the tiny hand, growling in frustration. “What’s wrong?”

  Levet sniffed the air. Then, without warning, he scrambled backwards. “It is a trap.”

  The words had barely left the gargoyle’s mouth when the ground opened up and swallowed them whole. />
  Chapter 2

  Terra strolled through the gardens, hoping their beauty would ease the restless ache in the center of her soul. It was annoying. She’d spent centuries struggling to squash these abrasive sensations that left her nerves raw.

  When she was young, she’d resented everything about the Seraf temple. It didn’t matter that being born with such rare healing abilities was considered the greatest honor among the nymphs. She hated the isolation. The fact that her destiny had been chosen for her. And most of all, she loathed the knowledge that her burgeoning abilities were being wasted.

  It’d taken a near disaster for her to accept that the protection of the temple was necessary. Over the years, she’d managed to find beauty in the lush gardens that surrounded her home. And, of course, there was joy in healing the handful of petitioners the Matron approved.

  But the restless dissatisfaction had never gone away.

  In fact, it’d grown progressively worse.

  Annoyed with her futile frustration, Terra turned away from the small lake that glittered beneath the constant sunlight and threaded her way through the tangle of wildflowers that filled the air with a sweet perfume.

  As she passed, the small, vivid blooms seemed to reach out to her. She couldn’t exactly talk to them, but they whispered a song in her ear.

  Trying to focus on the peace that drenched the isolated pocket between dimensions, Terra reached the back of the temple. The delicate structure surprised the rare visitors who were allowed to visit. Since the veils that protected the temple were dauntingly thick, most of them expected to find some sort of grim fortress.

  Instead, the temple was shaped like a giant tower chiseled out of smooth crystal. The peak was tall enough to disappear into the distant clouds, and the base was wide enough to contain a small village. There were also dozens of chambers beneath the ground for visitors who were allergic to sunshine.

  Terra paused, using her magic to create an opening in the crystal before entering the public lobby. The vast, open space was empty beyond the delicate chairs that were woven from branches, and the rugs that covered the tiled floor. It wasn’t unusual. Terra could go days without encountering anyone. The temple was large enough to house thousands of Serafs. Currently, there were less than fifty of them in residence.

  Serafs had once lived in the world. They traveled from village to village, offering their gifts to whoever needed healing. Then rumors that the blood of a Seraf could protect demons from any harm, no matter how grievous, had started to circulate, and they’d been hunted like animals.

  In a desperate attempt to salvage the handful of Serafs that were left, they’d gathered together and used their magic to create the temple. But even then, they continued accepting anyone who arrived on their doorstep. During a plague, they might have thousands of sick demons crowded into the temple.

  As time passed, however, they’d become more and more reclusive. The temple had been locked away from the world, and the petitioners had trickled to a small, select handful.

  A handful that Terra was beginning to suspect had paid an enormous fee to be healed.

  Intending to spend a few hours in the library, Terra was startled by the sudden appearance of a slender female with delicate features and eyes the color of spring grass. Her hair was dark gold and braided to hang down her back. Like Terra, she wore a flowing white gown, and her feet were bare.

  At a glance, the two looked similar. They both possessed the delicate beauty of all nymphs. However, Terra’s hair was closer to honey than gold and left free to tumble down her back. And her eyes were an astonishing lavender color. They also shared the soft scent of aloe vera.

  Terra offered a nod of her head. “Cyra,” she murmured in soft tones.

  Cyra was one of the few older Serafs still willing to speak to Terra. The others had branded her a rebel. They didn’t like the questions she asked or her insistence that the temple of the Serafs was there to serve others, not to accumulate wealth or power. Or maybe it was her influence among the younger healers who shared her desire to reach out to those in need that angered the elders. In any case, they tended to regard her with cold disdain.

  “I have been searching for you,” the female said.

  Terra blinked in surprise. “Really? Is there a petitioner?”

  “Not exactly,” Cyra said.

  “I don’t understand.”

  Cyra reached into the pocket of her robe and pulled out a medallion that hung from a delicate golden chain.

  “I was given this by…” Her words trailed away as if she were reluctant to say the name. “By a sister. She claims that it appeared on the doorstep this morning.”

  Terra frowned in confusion. Nothing could get through the barriers around the temple.

  “How did it get here?”

  Cyra arched a brow. “You tell me.”

  “Me?” Terra looked closer, her breath suddenly tangling in her throat as she realized that she recognized the medallion that was lying in the middle of Cyra’s palm. She should. It had once belonged to her. “Javad,” she whispered.

  “A friend of yours?”

  A strange sensation darted down Terra’s spine as the thought of the vampire seared through her mind. With vivid detail, she could conjure the image of his lean, beautiful features, his satiny dark hair, and the fathomless black eyes that shimmered with a bronze glow when his emotions were heightened. It’d been centuries since she’d last thought of the male, but now, the memories flooded through her as if they’d broken through a barricade.

  And in a way, they had. She’d built up protective layers to block out the time she’d spent in Vynom’s clutches. Including any memories of Javad.

  Cyra held out her hand. “How did he come to possess your medallion?”

  Instinctively, Terra reached to take the necklace. “It was a long time ago. I’d almost forgotten.”

  Staring down at the medallion that was carved with an image of the tower, Terra became briefly lost in the emotions swirling through her.

  “Terra?”

  With a blink, she lifted her head to discover the older woman staring at her with a hint of concern.

  She swallowed a sigh. She’d done her best to burrow her head in the sand and pretend that it’d all been a bad dream. Now, it was time to confront her past.

  “Maybe we should sit down,” Terra suggested.

  “Very well.” Cyra led them to a low sofa that had been arranged to overlook the gardens.

  They settled on the woven seats together, and Terra hesitated. She had the words. She was just struggling to push them past her lips.

  At last, Cyra reached to grasp her hand, giving Terra’s fingers a small squeeze.

  “Take your time.”

  She drew in a deep breath and slowly released it. Then, stiffening her spine, she forced herself to speak.

  “You probably remember when I was first brought to the temple. I wasn’t very happy.”

  Cyra was polite enough not to laugh at the gross understatement. Terra had still been young and emotional and filled with arrogance. She’d been stronger than all the other healers and convinced her skill gave her some unique wisdom. She’d been wrong.

  “Ah.” Understanding flared through Cyra’s eyes. “I remember now. Didn’t you disappear for a time?”

  A shudder raced through Terra. “Yes. I thought I could teach the Matron that we belonged among the people. A stupid mistake that nearly cost me everything.” She reached up, touching her shoulder. Beneath the silk of her robe was an ugly brand that marred her skin.

  “What happened?”

  Terra concentrated on the feel of Cyra’s warm touch. The Serafs could not only heal the body but also the mind.

  “Less than a day after I ran from the temple, I was captured by a band of trolls,” she admitted.

  Cyra gasped. “Oh no.”

  It’d been terrifying. Terra’s smug belief that she could easily survive on her own had been shattered as she sought shelter in a sma
ll glade. One minute she’d been heading toward the narrow stream of water. The next, she was being crammed into an iron box with three other nymphs.

  Terra glanced toward the gardens, her mouth dry. “I feared they were going to kill me and drink my blood.”

  Cyra gave Terra’s fingers another squeeze before releasing her hand. “What did they do?”

  “They held me prisoner for months. Eventually, they sold me to a vampire named Vynom.” Her jaw tightened, an ancient fury flowing through her blood. “He ran a fighting pit in Athens.”

  Cyra looked confused. “You were put in the fights?”

  “No, I wouldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds.” A feeling of sickness rolled through her belly. She’d spent her life sequestered among a tribe that was devoted to peace. The sight of the demons savagely trying to tear each other to bloody shreds had been a shocking introduction to the real world. “They were vicious.”

  “What did the vampire want from you?”

  “My skills as a healer.”

  Cyra tilted her head to the side. “I don’t understand. Our healing powers don’t work on vampires.”

  “I was used to heal the other demon fighters,” Terra explained. “Or at least I healed the ones who could afford the obscene fees demanded by Vynom. It allowed them to keep fighting even after their opponent had gained the upper hand.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair.”

  Terra released a humorless laugh. The abuse of her healing powers had been the least horrid thing that had happened during those dreadful nights.

  “There was nothing fair about that place. It catered to the most violent monsters to walk this Earth.” Sickness continued to churn in her belly. “Most matches were to the death. And at the end…” The words stuck in her throat as images of mutilated demons gasping in the center of the pit assaulted her.

  “Terra?”

  Terra cleared her throat. She wanted to be done with her explanation so she could shove the memories back where they belonged. In the past.

  “At the end of the night, the winner of the most bouts had the opportunity to face Javad,” she said.