She whirled about quite prepared for anything to charge out of the dark.
Vampire, werewolf, holy deity . . .
Lions and tigers and bears.
Tensing as she prepared to deal with the latest disaster, Darcy felt her mouth fall open as a slender woman walked from behind an ancient oak.
Despite the cloaking darkness, Darcy had no trouble making out the silver blond hair that swirled about her shoulders and the green eyes that held an unmistakable glow.
Pure shock held her motionless as the woman moved with a liquid grace to stand directly before her.
This was a moment Darcy had dreamed of every night for the past thirty years.
It was her most secret hope come to life.
Now she struggled to accept that this could possibly be real.
"Mother?" she at last whispered in disbelief.
"Yes, darling, I am indeed your mother." A smile touched the features that were so eerily like her own.
"How very thoughtful of you to drop at my feet. It saves me a great deal of effort."
"What..."
Utterly bemused Darcy never saw her mother moving. Not even when her arm lifted.
It wasn't until her fist actually connected with Darcy's chin that she realized that sometimes dreams and reality were not always the same.
Darcy tumbled back onto the cold, frozen ground as the waiting darkness flooded her mind.
Yeah, reality was a bitch.
Chapter Twenty-One
Pointing his finger directly at the heart of his enemy, Styx could feel the air crackle with the frozen blaze of his fury.
In the distance he could sense the sharp agitation of the circling vampires, could smell their unease, and hear the sound of fingers tightening on the crossbows.
None of that mattered.
The world had narrowed to the gaunt vampire who stood directly before him.
A vampire who had lost his smug smile and was regarding Styx with a new wariness.
Smart vampire.
Even if he was about to die.
Again.
"Your theatrics do not frighten me, Styx," Desmond managed to rasp even as he shuffled beneath the malevolent stare. "You are surrounded and your mate is within my grasp. You will do as you're told or pay the consequences."
Styx could see the vampire's lips moving. No doubt he was making some sort of threat or another, but he was long past listening. The only sound that mattered was the thunder of the power that rushed through his body.
Deepening the chill that swirled through the air, he moved forward, ignoring the arrow that whizzed past his ear.
"Styx?" Desmond stumbled back, his hands held outward. "Don't be a fool. My clan will kill you . . ." His words of warning came to a halt as Styx wrapped his hands around the scrawny throat and squeezed.
Shouts of alarm filled the air, and lifting the squirming vampire, Styx easily used Desmond's body to block the flurry of arrows. Desmond groaned as the projectiles plunged deep into his back, the silver burning his flesh.
From behind, Styx could sense the rush of an attack, and with a derisive motion he tossed Desmond toward the vampires, who were regarding their leader with horror. Instinctively they scrambled to assist the chief, leaving Styx free to turn and meet the charge of the infuriated Jacob.
The vampire was nearly as large as himself and deranged by his own anger, but his power was no match for Styx.
With a roar Jacob launched toward Styx's throat only to give a growl of frustration when Styx easily sidestepped his charge. As he moved, Styx swept out his leg and easily tripped the fool. In the blink of an eye, he pulled his long sword from its sheath, and while the vampire was struggling to push himself upright, Styx was slicing his weapon through the air.
Jacob didn't even manage to get to his knees when Styx sliced the sword through the back of his neck, taking off his head with one smooth motion.
Not waiting for the body to disintegrate, Styx kicked it aside and whirled just in time to meet the stake being thrust straight at his heart.
He jerked up his arm in time to take the blow. The stake sank deep into the muscles of his forearm, but he didn't so much as flinch. He had avoided a killing strike, and now it was his turn.
The attacking vampire widened his eyes as Styx's hand closed over his fingers holding the stake. The bones cracked beneath the pressure as Styx yanked the stake free and slowly turned it toward the vampire's heart.
There was a brief struggle as the younger man's panic lent him a surge of strength, but the end was predictable.
Still keeping the vampire's fingers crushed against the stake, Styx gave a low growl and shoved it into the narrow chest.
There was a grunt of pain before the vampire was falling backward and hitting the ground in a shower of dust.
A place deep within Styx mourned the loss of his brothers. Enemies or not they were still of one blood. The grief, however, did not halt him as he clutched his sword and turned toward the remaining vampires.
They intended to harm Darcy. For that they would die.
Two of the clansmen were still bent over their fallen leader, but three others were gathering their courage to attack.
Styx widened his stance and bent his knees as he prepared for the charge. They would be trained to separate and surround him. He couldn't allow that to happen.
He would have to strike, and strike quickly.
Tilting back his head, he gave a low roar and called on the power that flowed through his blood.
Viper was cursing as the van at last came to a halt and his clansmen poured in the night to surround the house.
He hadn't wanted to leave Styx. A vampire did not abandon a brother on the battlefield. Especially not when that brother was the Anasso.
But once Styx gave a command he had no choice but to obey. And in truth, it had been far more sensible for him to go in search of reinforcements. For him to have remained would only have ensured both their deaths.
The logic, however, didn't ease the cold dread that clutched at his heart, or lessen the fury that pounded through his blood.
He wanted to kill something.
A lot of somethings.
Flowing toward the back of the house. Viper held his sword in one hand and a lethal silver dagger in the other. He could smell death in the cold air. More than one vampire had died. And recently.
Bloody hell.
If Styx were ...
The dark, horrible thought had barely had time to form when a hair-raising roar shattered the night.
A grim smile touched Viper's lips.
Styx.
He was still alive. And in a very, very bad mood.
With a last burst of speed, Viper rounded the corner of the house and then came to a startled halt as he watched Styx launch himself toward the three charging vampires.
Or at least tried to watch.
Styx was little more than a blur of speed as he flowed forward. There was a flash of steel and one of the vampires tumbled headless to the ground before the poor fools ever realized their danger.