Beyond the Darkness Page 7

  The tiny demon lifted his hands. “Stand back.”

  Wrapping his arms around Harley, he hauled her to the back of the cell, doing his best to protect her from the silver bars, as well as the coming explosion.

  “What are you doing?” she muttered. “The silver…”

  “Trust me, the silver is the least of our worries,” he said, tucking her head in the hollow of his shoulder.

  He had a clarifying instant to recognize just how perfectly she fit against him before the shocking concussion hit, the air filling with a deadly bombardment of silver shards as Levet burst open the cell. Hastily spinning, Salvatore used his back as a shield, grinding his teeth as tiny slivers of silver lodged in his shoulder.

  “Holy shit,” Harley breathed.

  “Hold on,” Salvatore growled, already knowing what was coming next.

  There was another explosion, this one sending powdered cement rather than the deadly silver pelting against him, thank God, and tightening his arms around Harley, he braced himself as the floor beneath them disappeared and they tumbled into the tunnel below.

  The jarring impact of the landing wrenched Harley from his arms, and cursing the pain of the silver digging into his flesh, Salvatore crawled forward, using his hands to search for his mate through the thick cloud of dust.

  “Harley.” His hands found her sprawled on the hard dirt. “Are you hurt?”

  She coughed, sitting up to brush the dirt from her face.

  “I’m fine.” The dust began to clear and she glanced up at the gaping hole above. “Levet?”

  “I am here, ma belle.” With a delicate flap of his wings, Levet stepped off the edge of the hole and floated down, landing beside Harley with a small bow. “Your magnificent knight in shining armor in all his glory.”

  Salvatore rose to his feet, inwardly contemplating the pleasure of roasting the gargoyle over an open fire. The damned demon didn’t have a speck of dust on him, while the rescue had left Salvatore covered in a new layer of filth, his back aching from the fall, and a half dozen silver splinters in his shoulder that were already aching.

  “Your glorified head is going to be displayed on Caine’s trophy mantel if you don’t get a move on it,” he rasped.

  Levet snorted, assisting Harley to her feet. “As if I fear a flea-bitten cur.”

  Striding forward, Salvatore knocked away Levet’s hand and pulled Harley close. His logical mind understood he was being ridiculous. His instincts, however, couldn’t bear for any man to be near this woman.

  “Caine’s working with a powerful Were who has tapped into black magic,” he snapped.

  Levet’s eyes widened in alarm. “Sacre bleu. What are you waiting for?”

  Salvatore shook his head as the demon scurried down the dark tunnel, his tail twitching in agitation. He turned to regard his companion with a somber expression. Who knew what was waiting for them?

  “Stay close,” he warned softly.

  Her eyes flared in the darkness. “As if I have a choice.”

  “You never did,” he said, leaning forward to steal a short, possessive kiss.

  Then, grabbing Harley’s hand, he tugged her to him as they strode after the retreating gargoyle.

  Salvatore kept their pace slow but steady as they wound their way through the dark tunnel. He wasn’t running headlong from one enemy, only to blunder blindly into the clutches of another.

  Not that his reasonable caution was appreciated by his companions.

  At his side, Levet muttered French curses and behind him, Harley kept herself occupied by comparing him to several body parts of animals, none of them complimentary.

  What was the point in being king if he couldn’t have a little respect?

  Gritting his teeth, Salvatore attempted to ignore the silver that remained imbedded in his flesh, making it impossible for him to shift into wolf form. His wounds wouldn’t heal so long as the silver remained.

  And worse, it was another drain on his fading strength.

  The very thing he didn’t need.

  He intended to make Caine and Briggs pay for every moment of this misery.

  In blood.

  Levet broke off his inventive curses, glancing over his shoulder. “The curs have entered the tunnel.”

  Salvatore’s pace never faltered. “They won’t be the only ones.”

  “What do you mean?” Harley demanded.

  “If Caine has any sense at all, he’ll have sent a few curs overhead to try and cut us off at the exit.”

  “So you have effectively trapped us down here?” she accused, her angry tone unable to hide the fear he could sense in the air.

  “Of course not,” he smoothly lied, coming to a halt. The mark of any great leader was convincing others you knew what you were doing, even if you didn’t have a clue. Besides, he didn’t want to listen to any more bitching. “Levet, can you cut off our pursuers?”

  The gargoyle sniffed. “My talents are boundless.”

  “Can you do it without bringing the entire tunnel down on our heads?”

  He lifted his tiny hands toward the ceiling. “We shall see.”

  Not entirely reassured, Salvatore grabbed Harley’s arm and pulled her farther down the tunnel.

  “You might want to give him some room,” he muttered. Then, as a pulsing shaft of light speared through the darkness, he abruptly turned his head. “And hide your eyes.”

  “Not again,” she muttered, the words barely leaving her lips when the explosion sent them both tumbling backwards.

  Rolling on top of Harley, Salvatore protected her from the flying debris, relieved that they were the usual rocks and clumps of dirt to be found in a tunnel. He wasn’t in the mood for any surprises.

  “Ta-da,” Levet chirped, his wings flapping with pride as Salvatore rose to his feet and pulled Harley upright. They all silently studied the seemingly solid wall of dirt that now blocked the tunnel behind them. Then, just when Salvatore hoped that something had actually gone right, Levet glanced toward the low ceiling. “Oops.”

  “Oops?” Salvatore growled.

  “Maybe we should hurry.”

  Salvatore heaved a resigned sigh. “Damn.”

  As one, they turned to sprint forward, no longer concerned about what might lie ahead, just as dirt began showering down on their heads.

  The dash to stay ahead of the cave-in lasted nearly two miles, but at last the ceiling once again became stable, and better still, the tunnel widened and branched into two separate passageways.

  Salvatore came to a halt, waiting for Levet to skid to a stop at his side. Despite his perfect vision in the dark, this cramped and dank place was more suited to a gargoyle than a Were.

  “What do you sense?” he demanded.

  Levet sniffed the air and pointed his hand to the right. “This tunnel has an opening thirty or forty feet past the curve.” There was more sniffing. He pointed to the left. “That one…”

  “What?” Salvatore prompted.

  “It continues on, but I cannot tell more than that. It has not been used for several years.”

  Salvatore hesitated only a moment before coming to his decision.

  “Can you get past any curs who will be waiting?”

  “If you are attempting to insult me…”

  “Can you do it?”

  Before Levet could answer, Harley grabbed his arm and jerked him around to meet her scowl.

  “Just hold on. What are you planning?”

  “We have to split up.”

  “Split up? Are you kidding?”

  “If Levet can get past the guards, he can contact Styx and let him know we’re in trouble.”

  She blinked in surprise and Salvatore smiled wryly. Hell, she couldn’t be any more shocked than he was. Before this moment, he would have laughed at the suggestion he would deliberately seek out the leeches for help. So far as he was concerned, the only good vamp was one who stayed in his grave, where he belonged.

  Unfortunately, the suspicion that Brigg
s was still alive changed everything. Lunatic curs he could handle. A Were siphoning black magic meant that he had to swallow his considerable pride.

  The vampires were the only ones he could trust to keep Harley safe.

  “The vampire?” she muttered.

  Salvatore grimaced. “As much as it pains me to admit it, we’re going to need his help.”

  “You’re going to use the vampires to kill Briggs?”

  “For now, all I want is to get away from Caine and his goons,” he hedged.

  She tried to hide her shiver. “Then shouldn’t we be trying to get out of these tunnels?”

  “I don’t doubt we could fight our way past the curs, but they’ll be right on our tails. I prefer to slip away unnoticed.”

  Her scowled remained. “What of Levet?”

  “The curs have no interest in a gargoyle, and once he comes out the curs will be expecting us to be behind him. Hopefully, it will take some time for them to figure out we aren’t with him.”

  She gnawed her bottom lip, trying to find the flaws in his logic.

  “Have you considered the possibility that the tunnel might be a dead end?” she at last demanded. “We’ll be trapped.”

  Salvatore slowly smiled. “Trust me.”

  She snorted. “Not in a million years.”

  “We’ll see.” He grabbed Harley’s chilled hand and glanced toward the silent demon at his side. “Go, Levet.”

  Tossing his hands in the air, the tiny demon stomped his way down the dark tunnel.

  “Go, Levet. Come, Levet. Sit, Levet,” he muttered, making sure his voice carried back to Salvatore. “You do know I am not the dog around here?”

  With a roll of his eyes, Salvatore tugged Harley in the opposite direction.

  “Cristo. I hope one of the damned curs eats him.”

  “You aren’t very grateful,” she predictably protested. The damned gargoyle possessed an unfathomable appeal to the fairer sex. Color him baffled. “He did rescue us.”

  “I will give you anything you desire if you keep that our little secret.”

  She laughed. “Is the big bad wolf embarrassed to be saved by the itty bitty gargoyle?”

  “That itty bitty gargoyle could drive a perfectly reasonable demon over the edge,” he grumbled.

  Thankfully, Harley was smart enough to let the conversation drop.

  “Always presuming we live long enough to get out of these tunnels, what do you intend to do?” Harley demanded.

  Salvatore slowed his pace as the passageway narrowed, batting aside the thick cobwebs.

  “First I intend to get you somewhere safe,” he said, too distracted to consider his words. Stupid mistake. “Then I’ll deal with Briggs.”

  “Ah. So you intend to unload me on the vampires so the manly man can take care of business without having to tend to the helpless womenfolk?”

  He winched at the sugary sweetness that dripped from her voice.

  “Briggs isn’t your battle to fight.”

  “You can do anything you want to Briggs, but I can keep myself safe, thank you very much,” she snapped. “You aren’t my mother.”

  Salvatore was at least smart enough not to press the issue. She would be going to Chicago with Styx. End of story. But there was no need to argue before he could manage to contact the vampire.

  “Be thankful I’m not your mother,” he instead distracted her. “Sophia wouldn’t have been pleased at being locked in a cell. There’s no telling what carnage she would have caused.”

  Harley stumbled, her breath suddenly ragged. “She’s…alive?”

  Something dangerous, almost tender, stirred in the depths of Salvatore’s heart.

  “She’s very much alive,” he said gently. “She’s been searching for you and your sisters, just as I have.”

  “So she’s near?”

  “The last I heard she was in Kansas City.”

  Harley abruptly shook her head, obviously disturbed by the realization.

  “God.”

  Salvatore kept his gaze trained on the tunnel that was slowly heading upward, sensing his companion would be horrified if she knew the vulnerability etched on her beautiful face.

  “Harley.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t want you imagining Sophia as some kind of June Cleaver,” he cautioned, not wanting her to think a reunion with Sophia was going to be some fantasy lovefest.

  The tough female Were didn’t have a motherly bone in her body.

  “Who?”

  He sighed at her confusion. He forgot she was only thirty years old.

  “Let’s just say she isn’t the maternal type.”

  “What about my father?”

  “One of several donors.”

  “Donors?”

  “Sperm donors.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “Of course. I was brewed in your lab,” she muttered. Then without warning, she yanked her hand from his grip. “Holy shit.”

  Salvatore turned his head to meet her horrified gaze. “What?”

  “You weren’t one of the donors, were you?”

  His sudden laughter echoed through the darkness. “No, cara, I don’t have a God complex.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  His gaze skimmed deliberately down her slender form, allowing his searing awareness to heat the air around them.

  “I didn’t create you to be my daughter, Harley. I created you to be my queen.”

  Chapter Seven

  Harley was thankful that Salvatore’s outrageous claim managed to distract her from the knee-weakening relief that there was no possibility he might be her father.

  Talk about ick factor.

  “Queen?” she asked. Okay, it was more a squeak, much to her embarrassment.

  Salvatore flashed a smile. “It’s your fate.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “Ignoring your destiny won’t alter it.”

  She should have punched the annoying bastard. She didn’t believe in destiny. And even if she did, she would make damned sure that it didn’t include becoming a part of this Were’s harem.

  Queen or no queen.

  But oddly, it wasn’t fury that raced through her. It was…excitement.

  “Just shut up,” she hissed.

  She ignored his speculative gaze as the tunnel split in two, and they halted to study the less than appetizing options.

  So far beneath the ground it was nearly impossible to determine which direction they were headed. Especially for Weres, who depended heavily on their sense of smell.

  Salvatore hesitated a long moment, clearly no more confident than she was in knowing the best means of escape. Then, with a shrug, he took off down the left passageway.

  “This way.”

  With little choice, Harley followed in his wake. As soon as they were safely away from Caine, she would decide when and where to ditch the arrogant King of Weres.

  For now, she was willing to allow him to keep her from being put back in that damned cell.

  “If you get us lost down here, I’m not going to be happy,” she warned.

  “And that would be a change?”

  Ridiculously, his sardonic tone made her smile. “Smart ass.”

  Silence descended as they continued to wind their way through the twists and turns of the narrow passageway, Salvatore’s steps slowing the farther they traveled.

  She frowned as she studied the broad width of his shoulders that seemed to droop with weariness, and the blood that stained the back of his once elegant jacket.

  When had he been injured? And why weren’t the wounds healing?

  If they were truly deep, then he only had to shift. Once he was in wolf form he could repair even a grievous injury.

  Her brooding thoughts were interrupted as they were forced to bend beneath a particularly low section of the tunnel, the distinct sound of a click echoing through the thick, silent air.

  “What was that?” she breathed, already knowing it couldn’t be good.


  Whirling around, Salvatore grabbed her arm and thrust her ahead of him.

  “Run.”

  “What is it?” she demanded, taking off with as much speed as possible in the cramped tunnel.

  “A trap,” Salvatore rasped.

  On cue, there was the sound of grinding metal, then dust began to filter from the sides of the passageway. Expecting yet another ceiling to fall on her head, or the floor to open up and swallow her, Harley was unpleasantly surprised when silver darts began shooting from hidden slots in the walls.

  “Shit.”

  She crouched low and charged through the dark, hissing as one of the darts sliced through the back of her arm. Two more darts yanked through her ponytail, and one passed close enough to her ear that she heard it whistle.

  She lost track of time, focused on dodging the barrage of silver that continued to shoot from the dirt walls.

  Not a bad thing to focus on, considering the dart she barely avoided before it slammed into her temple.

  It was not until the pelting projectiles had slowed to an occasional unpleasant surprise that Harley at last realized that Salvatore had fallen several steps behind, his beautiful face covered in a sheen of sweat, his hair plastered to his head.

  She stumbled to a halt, an odd alarm clenching her heart.

  “Salvatore?”

  He stabbed her with an annoyed glare, his eyes glowing with a golden light.

  “Just keep running.”

  A stray dart shot between them and Harley heaved a resigned sigh. She couldn’t just leave him. Not when he was obviously injured.

  Why she couldn’t was not something she intended to mull over.

  “Crap.” Moving to his side, she draped one of his arms around her shoulders and grabbed him around the waist, taking as much weight as he would allow as they continued down the tunnel. “What’s wrong?”

  “When Levet broke into the cell, it sent a shower of silver in my shoulder,” he grudgingly confessed. “It’s draining my strength.”

  That would certainly explain his inability to shift, and his weakness. Still, she couldn’t shake off the sensation that he wasn’t being entirely honest.

  “We have to find some place to rest,” she said, her own legs beginning to feel the strain as the tunnel dipped and curved, leading to seeming nowhere.