Styx rose to his feet to round the desk, perching on a corner. The wood groaned beneath the considerable weight, but didn’t crack. Jagr could only assume Viper had had all the furniture reinforced.
Smart vampire.
“What do you know of my mate?” Styx abruptly demanded.
Jagr stilled. “Is this a trap?”
A wry smile touched the Anasso’s mouth. “I’m not a subtle vampire, Jagr. Unlike the previous Anasso, I have no talent for manipulating and deceiving others. If there comes a day when I feel the need to challenge you, it will be done face-to-face.”
“Then why are you asking me about your mate?”
“When I first met Darcy, she knew nothing of her heritage. She had been fostered by humans from the time she was a babe, and it wasn’t until Salvatore Giuliani, the current king of the Weres, arrived in Chicago that we discovered she was a pureblood who had been genetically altered.”
Jagr flicked a brow upward. That was a little tidbit that the king had kept secret.
“Genetically altered?”
“The Weres are increasingly desperate to produce healthy offspring. The pureblood females have lost their ability to control their shifts during the full moon, which makes it all but impossible to carry a litter to full term. The Weres altered Darcy and her sisters so they would be incapable of shifting.”
Jagr folded his arms over his chest. He didn’t give a damn about the worthless dogs.
“I presume you will tell me why you have summoned me, before the sun rises?”
Styx narrowed his golden eyes. “That depends entirely on your cooperation, my brother. I can make this meeting last as long as I desire.”
Jagr’s lips twitched. The one thing he respected was power. “Please continue.”
“Darcy’s mother gave birth to a litter of four daughters, all genetically altered, and all stolen from the Weres shortly after their births.”
“Why were they stolen?”
“That remains a mystery Salvatore has never fully explained.” There was an edge in the Anasso’s voice that warned he wasn’t pleased by the lack of information. “What we do know is that one of Darcy’s sisters was discovered in St. Louis, being held captive by an imp named Culligan.”
“He’s fortunate that she’s incapable of shifting. A pureblood could rip out the throat of an imp.”
“From what Salvatore could discover, the imp managed to get his hands on Regan when she was just a child, and kept her locked in a cage coated with silver. That is when he wasn’t torturing her for a quick buck.”
Torture.
The Dutch masterpieces hanging on the walls crashed to the floor at Jagr’s flare of fury.
“Do you wish the Were rescued?”
Styx grimaced. “Salvatore already freed her from Culligan, although the damned imp managed to slip away before Salvatore could eat him for dinner.”
Jagr’s brief flare of hope that the night wasn’t a total waste was brought to a sharp end. Slaughtering bastards who tormented the weak was one of his few pleasures.
“If the woman was rescued, why do you need me?”
Styx straightened, his bulk consuming a considerable amount of the office space.
“Salvatore’s only interest in Regan was installing her as his queen and primary breeder. He is determined to secure his power base by providing a mate who is capable of restoring the purebloods’ dwindling population. Unfortunately, once he freed Regan, he discovered she was infertile.”
“So she was of no use.”
“Precisely.” The towering Aztec was careful to keep his composure, but even an idiot could sense he wouldn’t mind making a snack of the Were king. “That is why he contacted Darcy. He intended to send Regan to Chicago so she could be under my protection until he established her in the St. Louis Were pack.”
“And?”
“And she managed to escape while he was conferring with the local pack master.”
Jagr grunted in disgust. “This Salvatore is pathetically inefficient. First he allows the imp to escape, and then the woman. It’s little wonder the Weres are declining in number.”
“Let us hope you are more efficient.”
Jagr rose to his feet, his expression cold. “Me?”
“Darcy is concerned for her sister. I want her found and brought to Chicago.”
“The woman has made it fairly obvious she doesn’t want to come.”
“Then it will be your job to convince her.”
Jagr narrowed his gaze. He wasn’t a damned Mary Poppins. Hell, he would eat Mary Poppins for breakfast.
“Why me?”
“I’ve already sent several of my best trackers to St. Louis, but you’re my finest warrior. If Regan has managed to run into trouble, you will be needed to help rescue her.”
There were no doubt worse things than chasing after a genetically altered Were who clearly didn’t want to be found, but he couldn’t think of one off the top of his head.
In the outer room, the sounds of a string quartet resumed, along with soft “ohhs” and “ahhs” from the audience as the dew fairies continued their delicate dance. Jagr could suddenly think of one thing worse than chasing after the Were.
Remaining trapped in this hellhole.
“Why should I do this?” he rasped.
“Because what makes Darcy happy makes me happy.” Styx moved until they were nose to nose, his power digging into Jagr’s flesh. “Clear enough?”
“Painfully clear.”
“Good.” Styx stepped back and released his power. Slipping his hand beneath his leather coat, he pulled out a cell phone and tossed it to Jagr. “Here. The phone has the numbers of the brothers who are searching for Regan, as well as contacts in St. Louis. It also has my private line. Contact me when you find Regan.”
Jagr pocketed the phone and headed for the door. There was no point in arguing. Styx was struggling to force the vampires out of their barbaric past, but it wasn’t a freaking democracy.
Not even close.
“I will leave within the hour.”
“Jagr.”
Halting at the door, Jagr turned with a searing fury. “What?”
Styx didn’t so much as flinch. “Do not forget for one moment that Regan is precious cargo. If I discover you have left so much as a bruise on her pretty skin, you won’t be pleased with the consequences.”
“So I’m to track down a rabid Were who doesn’t want to be found, and haul her to Chicago without leaving a mark?”