Literally.
Raising her arms, she muttered a low chant. Jagr cursed, and with a sharp motion knocked Regan to the side. A split second too late as the bright light flared, and a savage pain exploded inside Regan’s head.
Jagr carried his slender burden through the silent streets and up the bluff to the hidden cave. Consumed with worry, he made no effort to control his icy power that flowed through the darkness and sent a feeling of cold dread through the hapless citizens of Hannibal.
What did he care? Let the humans stir uneasily in their beds, and the lesser demons flee the area in terror. His only concern was finding the gargoyle, and reviving Regan.
Easily sensing the tiny demon, Jagr slipped through the opening of the cave, already braced for Levet’s shriek of horror as he settled Regan’s unconscious form in the center of the hard floor.
“Regan.” Wings flapping and tail twitching, Levet hurried to Regan’s side. “What did you do to her, you undead reptile?”
Moving to the back of the cave, Jagr retrieved his long leather duster to carefully drape over Regan’s too-still form. Then, kneeling on the dirt floor, he grasped one of her slender hands.
“She was hit by a spell.” He stabbed his companion with a fierce glare. “Remove it.”
“How…” Levet swallowed his question as he was nearly tumbled backward by a blast of Jagr’s icy power. Instead, he closed his eyes and touched a gnarled finger to Regan’s forehead. “Human witch. A defensive spell.”
“I didn’t ask for CSI bullshit,” Jagr snarled. “Get rid of the spell.”
“Sacrebleu.” Levet snapped open his eyes. “I have to know what magic was used to reverse it.”
“Fine, it was a human witch. Now get on with it.” Jagr pointed a warning finger in the gargoyle’s ugly face. “And Levet.”
“Oui?”
“Keep in mind that if you make a mistake, it’ll be your last.”
Levet narrowed his gaze, the fierce pride of his ancestors suddenly shimmering in the gray depths.
“I would stick a dagger in my own heart before I would harm Darcy’s sister,” he swore. “Now shut up, and let me take care of her.”
Jagr clenched his jaw against the fury that battered through him with brutal force.
The night had been a disaster.
Being trapped in the burning RV. Allowing himself to be knocked unconscious by a witch, a human witch, so Regan was forced to battle their attackers on her own. And being too slow to protect her against the spell that now held her in its grip.
A major screw-up from start to finish.
And it was Regan who was suffering for his failure.
Keeping his gaze trained on Regan’s pale face, he paid scant attention as Levet muttered beneath his breath and occasionally waved his hands, but he recognized the moment the spell was broken.
It was in the easing of her body, and the soft sigh that fluttered through her parted lips. Levet rocked back on his heels, his wings drooping with weariness.
“I have removed the spell, but she will need a considerable amount of sleep to heal from the damage.”
“But she’ll heal? Completely?”
“Oui.”
The tightness constricting his unbeating heart lessened, but it didn’t disappear. Regan would heal, but those who wanted to hurt her remained alive.
For now.
Pressing her fingers to his lips, Jagr gently settled her hand on her chest that rose and fell with assuring regularity. Then ignoring the pain that lingered from the witch’s blast, Jagr surged to his feet.
A voice of reason whispered in the back of his mind that he should be returning to the charred RV. Not only was there the hope that the wounds Regan had managed to inflict on the cur would overcome the witch’s ability to mask his scent, but he needed to make sure that his own trail back to the cave was properly covered.
Reason, however, didn’t mean squat while his protective instincts were in full roar. There was no way he was leaving Regan while she was unconscious and completely vulnerable.
No way in hell.
“Levet.” With a narrowed gaze, he motioned toward the wary gargoyle. “I have a little task for you.”
“Crap.”
Regan wasn’t certain how long she waged her battle with the clinging darkness. The thick shroud was nothing if not tenacious. But then again, so was she. (Some, especially a gorgeous Visigoth chief, might even claim she was stubborn as hell.)
Refusing to admit defeat, she shredded through the unconsciousness that held her captive, her senses slowly tingling back to life, though her lids remained too heavy to lift.
She was lying on a hard dirt floor. The cave, no doubt. She could smell cool, damp air and only a trace of gargoyle, as if Levet were no longer near. And overall, the cool, exotic scent of power that could only belong to Jagr.
He was near. Keeping watch over her.
Warmth flowed through her, banishing the lingering pain and bringing an odd sense of peace.
Peace?
From an arrogant vampire who thought he could put a leash on her?
Christ, she was mental.
Wrenching her eyes open, Regan glanced around the torch-lit chamber, assuring herself that she was safely tucked in the cave and not in the hands of the curs. Or worse, back in that damned silver cage.
Always assuming that the hideous thing survived the fire.
Confident she was in no immediate danger, Regan pushed herself to her feet, relieved when she didn’t fall flat on her face. Or even stumble—much.
Running her fingers through her hair, she glanced around the deepening shadows. The cool wash of power that charged the air assured her that Jagr was near, but his considerable bulk was nowhere to be seen.
So either he’d used his vampire tricks to wrap himself in darkness, or he was in one of the attached caverns.
She briefly hesitated.
Pride told her that there was nothing keeping her in the cave. She could walk out the front entrance and continue her search for Culligan. Or if she were truly smart, she could hop on the nearest bus and simply disappear.
No imps, no Weres, no annoyingly gorgeous vampires…
Pride, however, wasn’t in control of her feet. Instead of leading her out of the cave, they headed toward the openings at the back.
Ducking her head to avoid the low archway, she slipped into the cramped space that offered a natural cistern. As she straightened, she was prepared to find Jagr. His power was tangible this close. What she hadn’t expected was to find him stark naked as he rose from the shallow water, tossing his wet hair over his massive shoulders.