Darkness Unleashed Read online

  It was enough to make Sadie’s heart pitty-pat with delight.

  Halting directly before the quivering demon, Sadie slowly leaned forward.

  “You’ve been a very naughty boy, Culligan,” she purred, skimming the tip of the dagger down the center of his chest. “First you allow Salvatore to track you down and discover the girl, then you lead one of the most lethal vampires to ever walk the earth to my doorstep.”

  The green eyes rolled like he was a wild horse being bridled. “Please…mistress…”

  She dug in the dagger until a bead of blood marred the ivory skin. “You wish to plead for your life, spineless worm?”

  “I did what was asked of me.” Culligan licked his lips, his voice rough from his hours of screaming. “I was told to keep the woman alive, and not to allow her to escape. No one warned me that the pissed-off King of Weres was searching for the bitch.”

  “You were told what you needed to know.” Sadie sliced a shallow cut from the imp’s breastbone to his belly button, her ears singing from Culligan’s cries of pain. Such a pathetic wretch. He couldn’t even manage a proper hex, the simplest of imp magic. Still, he did make the loveliest sounds when he was being carved like a Thanksgiving turkey. “Did you think you could deal with the devil and not pay in blood?”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “For now, your pain will do. A pity I’ve been warned we might need you as bait. I can’t permanently damage you, but I’m creative enough to keep you in one piece.” With a smile she withdrew the dagger, only to plunge it back into his stomach, all the way to the hilt. “Well, perhaps not one piece, but a large enough piece to keep your heart beating.”

  When he was done screaming, Culligan struggled to speak. “Bait? What does that mean?”

  Reminded that the imp had not only lost the Were, but had dropped a butt-load of trouble in her lap, Sadie twisted the blade.

  “You, my pet, have managed to make an enemy of both the vamps and Weres,” she hissed. “They would follow your scent to the gates of hell to have the pleasure of killing you.”

  His head sagged, the hair falling forward like a crimson river. “What does anyone care about the stupid girl? She’s nothing but damaged goods. She can’t even shift, for Christ’s sake.”

  “What an idiot you are, Culligan. The girl’s worth is beyond price. And you’d better hope your bumbling hasn’t endangered my master’s experiments, or you’re going to be praying the Weres get you first.”

  “If she’s worth so much, then why did you sell her to me?”

  Pulling out the dagger, Sadie placed the bloody tip beneath his chin and forced his face upward. She leaned forward until their noses were nearly touching.

  “She’s…insurance.”

  “Insurance for what?”

  Sadie chuckled. “The ruling elite in the demon-world is about undergo a change in management, imp. A pity you won’t be around to enjoy the transformation.”

  With a smooth thrust, the dagger slid through the soft under skin of Culligan’s chin, moving through flesh to pierce his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

  The shriek of agony was muffled, but no less sweet.

  The land south and west of Hannibal smoothed from high bluffs to rolling fields and heavily wooded acres. Squatting down to study the narrow dirt path, Jagr could hear the rustle of raccoons and opossums, as well as native deer. Precisely the wild game that would attract a pack of hungry curs.

  Too bad there wasn’t a hint of cur in the air. Not a scent, not a track, not even a stray hair.

  There was a rustle beside him and the scent of midnight jasmine teased at his senses.

  Regan.

  His jaw clenched as his body painfully reacted to her proximity.

  Gods, he thought his days of torture were behind him. He’d slaughtered his enemies and retreated to the barricaded safety of his lair. His life was supposed to be one of peace and quiet contemplation.

  Yeah…right.

  There was nothing peaceful in the way his body burned for a Were who couldn’t decide if she wanted to rip off his clothes or stick a stake in his heart. Or in the knowledge he was risking a death sentence by ignoring Styx’s order to return Regan to Chicago so the revenge-crazed woman could kill her enemy. Or even in having his hard-earned distrust for others slowly, relentlessly undermined.

  It was no wonder he was in the mood to bite something.

  Or, more particularly, someone.

  Smoothly rising to his feet, Jagr turned his head to study the female at his side.

  As if by magic, his fury and frustration eased to a rueful resignation.

  Perhaps Regan had cast a spell upon him. Or perhaps the brutal barriers he’d built around himself were simply no match for the powerful attraction that roared through him.

  Whatever the case, he knew he wasn’t nearly as desperate to return to the dark solitude of his lair as he should be.

  Shuffling her feet, Regan at last cleared her throat. Since leaving the cave, she’d grimly refused to utter a word. No doubt assuming her silence was some sort of punishment.

  He hated to tell her that before the days of technology, he’d gone decades without a sound to disturb his studies. Besides, he’d known her silence wouldn’t last. She was not the type of woman who could keep her emotions bottled inside.

  She was more a spit-in-your-face, kick-your-ass type of gal.

  Just the way he liked them.

  “Well?” she demanded.

  Jagr hid a smile at her sharp tone. “This is where I lost the imp’s trail. What of you?”

  She glanced around the empty field, her brow furrowed. “It was around here. Maybe closer to those trees.”

  “Then that’s where we’ll begin our search.”

  Before he could take a step, Regan had stubbornly folded her arms over her chest.

  “This would go faster if we split up.”

  He lifted his brows at the suggestion. “So I can waste the rest of the night chasing you down? I don’t think so. You stay at my side.”

  “Christ.” Her eyes shimmered in the moonlight, not the glow of a Were on the point of shifting, but one of a pissed-off woman. Just as dangerous. “Wasn’t it enough that I was imprisoned for the past thirty years? Do I have to go from one hell to another?”

  His eyes narrowed. “My only purpose is to keep you safe, Regan, not to imprison you.”

  “Well, it feels remarkably the same.”

  With a hiss, Jagr grabbed her arms and regarded her with a flare of anger. He would endure many things, but not being compared to a spineless coward who would harm a young female.

  “Take care, little one.”

  “Go to hell, big chief.”

  Abruptly he dropped his hands and stepped back. Just the feel of her soft skin beneath his fingers was making his body clench with hunger.

  “You want to be rid of me, then let me take you to Chicago,” he challenged with a cool control he was far from feeling. “You’ll never have to set eyes on me again.”

  Her lips tightened as she absently rubbed her arms where he’d touched her.

  “I’m not leaving until I’ve skinned Culligan and fed his heart to the fishes.”

  “Then it would seem we’re stuck with one another.” Turning on his heel, Jagr led the way toward the line of trees.

  Regan fell into step behind him, muttering vile threats that included chopping off his more precious body parts, as well as a gruesome decapitation.

  Jagr ignored her threats. Despite her unique ability to annoy the hell out of him, he understood her frustration. She’d just escaped from Culligan’s clutches—she didn’t want to depend on anyone. Even if his presence meant keeping her alive.

  Nearing the tree line, Jagr abruptly halted, his senses flaring with life.

  “Wait.”

  Regan flowed to his side, her body coiled to attack. “What is it?”

  “I smell blood.” He pointed toward the trees. “In there.”

  �
�Human?”

  “Imp.”

  She sucked in a deep breath. “Is he still in there?”

  “Impossible to say.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Jagr bit back his instinctive protest. Regan had earned the right to battle Culligan. So long as he was near to prevent disaster.

  “This way.”

  Without speaking, they entered the thick woods, their steps barely stirring a leaf as they moved in silence. In the distance, Jagr could hear the rustle of nocturnal animals and babble of a shallow creek, but there was no sense of human or demon in the darkness.

  Following the intoxicating scent of blood, Jagr angled to the west. There was nothing but trees for several feet, then without warning they ended, revealing a wide path that had been carved through the very heart of the woods.

  It was clearly a road for the local farmer to transfer his equipment from one field to another, but Jagr’s only interest was in the long RV that was distinctly out of place.

  “Shit.”

  Coming to a halt, Jagr was sharply aware of the savage emotions that assaulted the woman at his side.

  “Regan?”

  She shook her head, her arms wrapped protectively around her waist. “I can’t. I…I just can’t.”

  Before he realized he was moving, Jagr had gathered Regan in his arms. Strange. He’d never before felt the urge to comfort another, not even those of his clan, but in this moment there was nothing more vital.

  Smoothing a hand down the knotted muscles of her back, he lowered his head to whisper in her ear.

  “Stay here and keep guard. Can you do that, little one?”

  There was a tense pause, then she gave a jerky nod. “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  Ignoring the irrational reluctance to leave her alone, Jagr loosened his grip and stepped back. This possessive sense of protection toward Regan was not only dangerous, it was distracting.

  A warrior needed to be cold and logical, a master of his emotions.

  This fermenting fear for Regan’s safety could make him sloppy.

  And sloppy meant death.

  Ignoring his unwelcome instincts, Jagr stepped onto the rough path and approached the RV. Nearing the door, he withdrew a dagger from his boot. His senses might tell him the vehicle was empty, but he knew better than to walk in blindly. The curs had already proven they could hide their presence behind a spell. He wasn’t taking chances.

  Circling the long motor home, he cautiously peered through the windows. Empty. Unless the curs also managed to become invisible.

  At last, Jagr approached the door, wrapping himself in shadows as he threw it open and flowed silently inside. He crouched low, prepared for attack. When one didn’t occur, he straightened and allowed his gaze to slide over the built-in kitchen and living room that were crammed into the small space.

  It all looked…

  Human.

  Not at all the lavish lifestyle preferred by imps.

  Of course, Regan had claimed that Culligan was weak. If he couldn’t produce hexes or portals, then he would have to depend on other means to acquire his wealth.

  Such as abusing a vulnerable young Were in his sick sideshow.

  With a low growl, Jagr moved toward the back of the RV, already knowing what he would discover when he yanked open the door to the bedroom.

  Knowing, however, and seeing were two very different things.

  The small room was surrounded by pure silver bars. The walls, the ceiling, the windows, and even the inside of the door. Even worse, there were silver shackles and chains tossed on a narrow cot that was the only piece of furniture, beyond a tiny TV and shelf of worn books.

  This is where Regan had lived for the past thirty years. Where she’d been raised by a brutal master, and abused on a regular basis.

  Had she been forced to wear the shackles whenever she was in this room?

  The corrosive burn would have been near unbearable, and would have weakened her to the point where she could barely function.

  Cold, lethal fury seared through him.

  Someone would pay for this.

  In blood.

  Lost in his dark thoughts, it was the scent of jasmine that had him abruptly turning and heading back to the front of the vehicle.

  “Regan. Do not,” he rasped, his voice thickening with his native accent as he watched her climb through the door.

  Sick fear swirled about her, filling the narrow space, but her beautiful face was hard with determination.

  “I have to see.”

  “If there’s anything to discover, I will find it. There’s no need for you…”

  “There’s every need, Jagr,” she interrupted, her voice low and ragged.

  “Why?”

  “To prove that I can.”

  Stepping forward, Jagr cupped her chilled face in his hand. “You have nothing to prove, Regan. Not to anyone.”

  “This is for me. I won’t be haunted by my memories of Culligan, or the hell he put me through.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “I won’t give him that power.”

  A bleak, piercing memory of slipping through a deep cavern to slaughter his enemies without mercy flashed through his mind before he managed to scrub it away.

  This was about Regan.

  And the festering pain that ran like poison through her blood.

  “He lost all power over you when you survived,” Jagr husked, willing her to believe the truth of his words. “Your strength and courage overcame everything he could do to you. You’ve conquered your demon.” His lips twisted, the ever present heat shimmering in his eyes. “Not the last demon you’ll conquer, I’d bet.”

  As he intended, Regan was swiftly distracted, a blush staining her cheeks as she took a jerky step away from his lingering touch.

  “You said you smelled blood.”

  “Yes.” He moved to the very front of the RV, forced to bend over as he studied the driver’s seat. “I don’t know why Culligan came to Hannibal, but his welcoming committee was in a foul mood.”

  “He’s dead?”

  “He was alive when he left the RV, but he was hurting.”

  “Damn.”

  With an unexpected speed, Regan was moving deeper into the living area of the RV, punching holes into the faux wooden panels of the wall.

  Jagr moved to her side, his lips curving as splinters filled the air. There was nothing more arousing than a powerful woman.

  “Not that I don’t approve of wholesale destruction, but there are more satisfying means of exorcising your frustration,” he murmured.

  “Culligan kept his money and private papers in a safe…ah.” Tossing him a smug smile, Regan tugged out a small metal box from the hole she’d just made in the panel. A smile that faded as she struggled to wrench the thing open. “Crap.”

  “Allow me.” Without asking for permission, Jagr pulled the box from her grasp and wrenched the heavy lid off.

  Not surprisingly, he was rewarded with a nasty glare. “Am I supposed to be impressed with your bulging muscles and mindless brute strength?”

  “You can be impressed by anything you want, little one, although most women prefer my bulging…”

  “Bleck.” She held up a hand. “Enough.”

  Jagr might have been offended if he didn’t catch the unmistakable scent of her desire whenever he was near.

  Glancing in the box, Jagr grimaced and shoved it toward Regan. “I think you’ve earned this.”

  “Christ,” she breathed, her eyes widening at the stash of jewels and watches and neatly stacked money. “Humans. You would think thousands of years of evolution would finally give them the talent of recognizing a blatant swindle.” Regan shuddered, staring at the box as if it were contaminated. “I don’t want this. It’s tainted.”

  “Then give it to a charity or throw it in the river. Just so long as Culligan or his friends can’t get their hands on it.”

  Regan grimaced. “You’re right.”

  “I’m right?” Jagr pre
ssed a hand to his heart in mock astonishment. “Blessed saints, did the sky fall?”

  “Smart ass…”

  Regan’s eyes widened as Jagr flowed forward to press a hand to her mouth.

  “Someone’s approaching,” he whispered close to her ear. She tugged his hand from her mouth, but was careful to keep her voice soft.

  “Culligan?”

  “I can’t tell. They must be cloaked by a spell to cover their scent.”

  On the point of turning the hunter into his personal prey, Jagr stiffened. He had less than a beat to catch the scent of smoke before a bottle crashed through the window of the RV and exploded in flames. Instinctively, Jagr backed away. Fire was one enemy a vampire couldn’t battle.

  “Time for you to go, Regan.” He shoved her toward the flames that were spreading with lethal speed. “Run.”

  Digging in her heels she whirled to glare at him. “Are you mental?”

  “The fire isn’t magical, you’ll heal from the burns,” he rasped, his body quivering with the need to rush her to safety.

  “Yeah, only to be killed by the freaking King of Vamps when he discovers I bolted like a wuss and left his favorite pet to become toast.”

  “Styx would never harm you, and I am not the Anasso’s favorite anything, let alone his pet. Now get the hell out of here.”

  The smoke thickened, the heat already bringing beads of sweat to Regan’s face, but the woman stubbornly refused to flee.

  “Forget it, chief. It’s not happening.”

  “Damn.”

  Muttering ancient curses and more than a few derogatory comments on the brains of Weres in general, and one in particular, Jagr wrapped his arms around his personal thorn in his side, and with one mighty surge smashed through the side of the RV.

  Chapter 7

  Even buffered by Jagr’s huge body, Regan’s breath was wrenched from her lungs as they crashed through the side of the motor home and landed on the pathway with a hard jolt.

  Before she’d managed to suck in the much needed air, Jagr had jerked her to her feet and turned to face the two attackers that appeared frozen in horror by their abrupt appearance.