Beware the Darkness Page 5

  Still, it was a natural instinct to duck when someone threw something at her. She heard a whistling sound as the knife flew past, hitting a goblin in the center of his back. The demon roared in outrage, turning to grab the still woozy sprite and toss him across the room.

  Instant chaos erupted.

  The crowd was already stewing in a noxious atmosphere of violence and passion. It didn’t take much to ignite them into a lethal brawl.

  Using her superior height and weight, Inga waded through the mass of battling demons. A few she was forced to knock out of her path, and one overly bold goblin tried to take a swing at her. She stomped on the top of his foot, a spot that was far more tender than the dangling bits between his legs.

  At last she managed to get to the edge of the crowd where Levet was futilely trying to pull his tail from beneath the foot of a full-blooded troll.

  “Come on,” she said, shoving the troll hard enough to topple him to the side. Then, as the massive creature turned to fight, she grabbed Levet and plopped him on her broad shoulder. “Hold on.”

  Levet wrapped his arm around the top of her head, his wings flapping with excitement. “Isn’t this wondrous?”

  Inga rolled her eyes, starting the arduous task of battling back through the crowd.

  “There’s something wrong with you,” she told the gargoyle.

  “Moi? Nonsense,” Levet chided. “I am perfection.”

  “You are—” Inga’s words cut off as the smothering air was abruptly edged with an icy chill. “Vampire,” she hissed.

  Halting, she desperately shut out the deafening noise of the brawl and concentrated on the sensation of stone that surrounded her. During her childhood years she’d been owned by a troll who used her to crawl through the mountains of Asia for rubies. During those long, arduous years, she’d developed the ability to smell gaps in the rock.

  There was the obvious exit up the stairs on the other side of the cavern, but she could detect another crack in the wall just ahead of her.

  Lowering her head to use as a battering ram, Inga charged forward, knocking aside the few demons stupid enough to stand in her path. Then, yanking Levet off her shoulder, she carried him like a human football as she rammed straight into the wall.

  There was a dreadful ringing noise in her ears from the crushing impact, and her neck muscles felt as if they’d been turned into rubber, but she’d done it. Opening her eyes, she could see the stone, which had already been weakened, begin to crack and crumble.

  A grim smile curved her lips as she used her hands to pull out large boulders. She could already sense the structure above them buckling as brackish water raced through the opening she’d created. Soon the whole place would collapse.

  Perfect.

  Wading against the greenish muck that was swirling up to her knees, she crawled through the crack and pulled her way up and out of the bog that was now forming around the demon club. Clearly she’d managed to destroy the magic that had kept the building on dry land.

  She splashed through the deepening water, locating a mossy pathway that led through the trees. A minor miracle. Lowering the sputtering gargoyle to the ground, she ignored his muttered complaints of being hauled about like a sack of potatoes as she hurried through the trees that formed a ring around the building.

  With grim determination she slogged her way through nearly five miles of bog. She was just on the point of congratulating herself for her narrow escape when there was a blur of movement beside her. Inga whirled around, but she was too late. Even as she swung her huge fist toward the zooming figure, she heard a squawk of annoyance.

  “Levet,” she rasped as she watched the tiny gargoyle being swept off his feet.

  She came to a halt, growling toward the vampire who was standing in front of her. He was dangling Levet by one of his stunted horns.

  “No more running,” the male snapped, giving Levet a shake. “Or he dies.”

  This had to be Tarak, she knew. She’d never actually seen the vampire when Riven was holding him captive, but she recognized his chilled, almost herbal scent. Besides, what other vampire would be chasing her through the damned bogs?

  She glared at him. Like all vampires, he was gorgeous, but Inga was indifferent to the potent male beauty. All that mattered was that he’d been chasing her to exhaustion, and now he was holding Levet hostage. She peeled back her lips, exposing her razor-sharp teeth.

  “Let him go.”

  Tarak held Levet higher, spinning the tiny creature around as he studied him with obvious confusion. “Is he a gargoyle?”

  Levet flapped his wings, futilely trying to pry himself free of the vampire’s grasp. “Of course I am a gargoyle, you stupid leech.”

  “You’re so small.” Tarak pointed out the obvious.

  Levet stuck out his tongue, making a rude sound. “I am compact.”

  Inga stepped forward, well aware that Levet tended to drive most males to violence under the best of circumstance. Right now, he was likely to get them both killed.

  “Release him or I’ll—”

  Tarak pulled a silver knife from a holster at the base of his lower back and held it against Levet’s throat. Beheading was one of the few ways to kill a gargoyle.

  “Eek!” Levet shrieked.

  Tarak kept his dark gaze locked on Inga. “Stay back.”

  “What do you want from me?” she rasped.

  “Take me to the mermaids.”

  She blinked in shock. She’d assumed he was chasing her because he wanted to punish her for helping to imprison him. The last thing she expected was for him to want to enter the hidden lair of her people.

  A vicious pain sliced through Inga. “I can’t.”

  Tarak pressed the knife tighter against Levet’s throat. “Now.”

  Inga held up a hand, her mouth going dry. No, no, no. She couldn’t let Levet be harmed, but the thought of returning to the castle deep in the ocean made her gut cramp with fear. The mer-folk would kill all of them.

  “I just said that I can’t,” she insisted.

  “Then your companion dies,” Tarak said, spiking the air with droplets of ice.

  “Non.” Levet lifted his clawed hands, his ugly little face tight with annoyance. “I shall turn you into a toad, you cold-blooded parasite. A toad with warts.”

  “Levet,” Inga snapped. Did the tiny creature have no sense of fear?

  Before she could decide whether to try and negotiate with the leech or simply attack, Inga stiffened in shock. There was no mistaking the sudden tang of salt in the air.

  Catching the smell at the same time as Inga, the vampire curled his lips with a wicked anticipation.

  “Mermaids.” He released a terrifying laugh. “Perfect.”

  Chapter 4

  Tarak continued to laugh. Had the ogress led him into a trap? Were these the royal guards that Waverly had warned him about?

  Probably.

  Well, let the bastards come.

  He intended to destroy each and every one. Eventually Riven, King of the Mer-folk, would be forced to confront him directly.

  And then he would die.

  He glanced down at the struggling creature he held by the horn. At least he had one mystery cleared up. He’d smelled a gargoyle, and the reason he hadn’t seen any trace of him was because he was a miniature version. Odd. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the stunted demon toward the nearby bog where the creature promptly sank beneath the lily pads.

  The ogress released a strange croak, her eyes flashing red. Was she fond of the gargoyle? Tarak assumed that she must be as she prepared to attack. But before she could move, a herd of males stepped into view.

  No, wait. Mermen weren’t a herd. A guppy? A school? Tarak shrugged. It wouldn’t matter what they were called once they were dead.

  He backed until he was able to keep an eye
on the ogress who was staring at the approaching mermen with what looked like horror. He didn’t allow himself to be fooled. He had to assume she was a part of this trap.

  Once he was confident that he could keep watch on all his opponents at the same time, he turned his attention to the approaching males.

  A casual observer could be forgiven for mistaking them for fey creatures. They had the pale, delicate beauty of a fairy, with the lean muscular body of an imp. It was only when the moonlight peeked through the lacy clouds that covered the sky that the iridescent sheen of their skin and the blue highlights in their long, golden hair became obvious.

  They were dressed in a strange silver armor that looked like fish scales. It wasn’t metal, since it clearly allowed them to move with a fluid flexibility, but Tarak was willing to bet that it was as hard as steel.

  Tarak flashed his fangs. “Ah, I smell sushi,” he mocked, secretly proud of his ability to insult the creatures with modern slang.

  It wasn’t like he’d practiced… Okay, that was a lie. He’d practiced. A lot. What else did he have to do but prepare for this day?

  The tallest of the mermen lifted his hand, pointing directly at Tarak.

  “That’s him,” he said, his voice sounding hollow, as if he was speaking beneath water.

  Another of the soldiers pointed toward the massive ogress. “And the female ogre.”

  The first merman smiled, revealing a set of pointed teeth. Natural? No, Waverly’s teeth weren’t pointed. They had to be filed.

  “Ah,” the merman’s smile widened. “How convenient.”

  Tarak frowned. Maybe the ogress wasn’t working with the mermen. Then he shrugged. It didn’t matter. Right now he couldn’t afford to be distracted.

  “Are you going to fight or show off your pretty costumes?” he taunted.

  One of the mermen toward the back of the shoal started to charge forward. “I’ll—”

  “No.” The seeming leader reached out to grab the male’s arm and yanked him to a halt. “The king wants him brought back alive.”

  Tarak hissed. Why would the bastard want him back? Impossible to know.

  “How is your leader?” His voiced held an arrogant disdain. When he was outnumbered, he wanted his opponents angry enough to make foolish mistakes. “Still hiding in his lair like a spineless coward?”

  The male who was still being held by the larger guard made a gurgling sound. Tarak assumed he was pissed.

  “Riven is not spineless.”

  “Then why didn’t he come himself instead of sending his boy band?” Tarak smiled as the males scowled in annoyance. His practice at insults was already paying off.

  “We’re his royal guard,” the same merman snarled.

  “Stop talking to him, idiot.” The leader released his grip on his fellow soldier’s arm and took a step toward Tarak. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

  Tarak arched his brows. “I’ve been locked away for five centuries and even I know that’s clichéd.”

  The smell of salt blasted through the air. Clearly he’d hit a nerve.

  With a flourish, the leader grabbed the sword out of the scabbard at his side. “Take him,” he commanded.

  Tarak watched the rest of the males reach for their weapons. Surely they couldn’t think they were any match for a vampire?

  “You can try.” He twirled the knife in his hand, motioning them forward.

  “Now,” the leader barked.

  The males held their swords that suddenly began to glow with a strange power. It was only then that Tarak realized that they weren’t swords. Instead they were short tridents that they pointed in his direction.

  What the hell? He’d fought a hundred different species of demons, but he’d never seen the mer-folk in battle. He assumed they were a devious, sneaky sort of people who snuck out of the shadows and attacked when their enemies’ backs were turned. Just like their king.

  Now he felt a rare stab of alarm as he could see threads of silver shoot out of the end of the tridents. Shit. The mermen soldiers weren’t as useless as he’d assumed.

  He’d taken a step backward when the threads began to wrap around him, the silver searing into his skin.

  Tarak gave a cry of frustrated agony as the threads formed a net around him, toppling him to the ground. He was trapped.

  Trying to ignore the rapidly approaching mermen, Tarak tilted his head back to watch the ogress.

  “Release me,” he commanded, watching as she lumbered toward him.

  Was she actually going to help? He groaned as she stomped past him, seemingly indifferent to his plight. Instead, she lumbered toward the bog where the gargoyle was crawling out of the water.

  “Nyles, kill her,” the leader commanded. “Noyse, you open a portal to take us home.”

  Tarak arched his back as agony blistered through him, his gaze locked on the gargoyle who was climbing out of the bog and shaking himself. Like a dog getting rid of the clinging moss.

  “Do not fear, my damsel,” the strange creature assured his companion. “I am here to protect you.”

  The ogress released a loud gasp as the gargoyle lifted his hands toward the mermen who had nearly reached Tarak.

  “Levet, no!” she cried out.

  Barely capable of thinking through his pain, Tarak tried to imagine why the ogress looked so horrified. Before he could reason out an explanation, there was a blinding flash of light. Heat roasted over him, and Tarak instinctively squeezed his eyes shut. At the same time, he sensed the portal opening behind him. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to avoid being sucked into the darkness.

  There was a strange rush of air, and something that sounded like the pounding of waves. But oddly, as he was whisked through the portal, the silver that had been scorching his flesh abruptly disappeared.

  Was he being thrown straight back into his prison? Or was there some new hell awaiting him?

  A second later he landed against a hard marble floor with a heavy thud. At least one rib cracked, and he saw stars as his skull smacked against the marble wall. Indifferent to his injuries, he forced himself to his feet and prepared to attack.

  Except…there was no one to attack.

  Puzzled, he slowly turned, his gaze skimming over the vast open space that was dotted with fluted columns. On the walls were painted frescos of mer-folk swimming through the ocean in their primitive forms. They looked so real Tarak was convinced he could smell the salty water and tang of seaweed.

  Giving a shake of his throbbing head, he tried to concentrate. It looked like he was in some sort of ballroom. He had no idea how he’d gotten there, or what had happened to the soldiers, but he was fairly certain that he was in Riven’s hidden lair.

  Another trap?

  It didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to question miracles.

  Keeping his knife clutched in his hand, Tarak headed toward the large opening at the end of the room. He was expecting a hallway, or even a staircase leading to another level. Instead he stepped onto a wide balcony.

  He hesitated, concentrating on leashing his power. He could already feel the life force of several mer-folk pulsing through the air. Plus, a familiar scent was teasing at his nose.

  A low growl rumbled in his throat as he cautiously moved forward, peering over the edge of the balcony. Below him was a massive throne room that was filled with more marble, fluted columns, and walls painted in vibrant colors. At the head of the room was a large dais where Riven sat on a throne with a crown planted on his head.

  And standing next to him was Waverly with a matching crown on her head.

  Riven’s consort.

  Chapter 5

  Waverly stood at rigid attention next to the throne. Anyone who was watching would see a mermaid princess who was calm, cool and collected. It was a façade she’d practiced in the
mirror for centuries. Beneath her arrogant composure, however, was a female who seethed with a maelstrom of emotion. Fear. Hate. And a frustration that gnawed at her like a hungry swarm of piranhas.

  She desperately wanted to grab the trident that Riven held loosely in his hand and stab it into his back. Unfortunately, the trident wasn’t just any weapon. It was the Tryshu, the mystical symbol of authority for mer-folk since the beginning of time. And no one but the true ruler could touch it.

  The memory of her father sitting on the throne, his presence not only commanding but a comfort to his people, formed in her mind. Riven was nothing like him, choosing to lead with fear and intimidation.

  Pain sliced through her, but Waverly was careful to keep her expression as tranquil as the sea. After five hundred years she’d perfected the ability to contain her heartbreak, although tonight was more difficult than usual.

  She was still aggravated by Tarak’s refusal to listen to her urgings to return to the vampires and reveal he’d been held captive by the King of the Mer-folk. She needed Riven distracted by fear of the vampires to continue her desperate search for her sister.

  Plus, her nerves weren’t soothed by Riven’s restless annoyance. The king didn’t possess her own ability to mask his emotions, and it was obvious he was infuriated.

  Waverly tried to tell herself it was a good sign. If Riven was angry, it meant his guards hadn’t located Tarak. Still, his prickly mood was affecting everyone crammed into the throne room. The elegantly attired mer-folk sent covert glances toward one another, clearly baffled why they’d been commanded to watch the king stewing on his throne.

  Waverly was confused as well.

  At first she’d assumed Tarak had been captured and Riven was in the mood to celebrate.

  But now…

  Waverly abruptly shivered. Was there a chill in the air? Not unusual. The vast underwater castle was a rambling collection of long rooms and intersecting hallways that created unexpected drafts.

  This really wasn’t a breeze, though. It was more like a…