He tilted back his head, testing the air with his superior senses.
“I can’t believe that you left it behind. Not after your panic to rescue it from Caine’s lair.”
“It? A baby, mythical or not, is not an it.”
He ignored the dangerous edge in her voice. “But, it’s not here. Unless you’ve hidden it with a spell.” Without warning he’d stepped forward and grabbed her upper arms. “Are you a witch?”
She glared into the too-handsome face. “If I were a witch you’d already be turned into a newt and stuck in a jar.”
“Be careful, Laylah. A vampire has no tolerance for magic.”
“And I have no tolerance for interfering vampires.” She jerked away from his hands. “We’re done.”
He allowed her to back away, but that didn’t ease her sudden jitters as he stood in the center of the loft, the moonlight sliding with sinuous beauty over his grim features and broad chest.
He didn’t need the large dagger stuck in the waistband of his khaki shorts or the pearly white fangs to make him dangerous.
It oozed from every pore.
“Are you a witch?”
She instinctively backed away, not halting until she hit a stack of hay bales.
“No.”
He moved until he was crowding her, his eyes narrowed as he sensed her lie.
“You have no magical abilities?”
“The charm of my personality.”
His slender fingers stroked down her throat. A subtle threat.
“Tell me.”
“I …” She halted. Gods, she’d gone as cowardly as a snallus demon. Reclaiming her spine, she shot him a furious glare. “I have a few skills, but I’m not a witch.”
“Explain.”
“Bossy. Arrogant. Ass.” “Laylah.”
Her hands curled into fists. Dammit. The vampire wasn’t going to let this go until he had an answer. Of course, there wasn’t a chance in hell she was going to give him the truth.
He might just decide she was worth more on the black market than he could get from the Commission.
“My foster mother was a witch, but she claimed the magic she could sense in me was dormant,” she bit out. “It didn’t matter how often I tried to conjure spells, I was hopeless.”
“So what is your magic?” he pressed, obviously convinced she was hiding some major magical mojo. If only.
“You’ve seen.” She shrugged. “I can manipulate nature …”
“No, those are the powers of a Jinn,” he ruthlessly overrode her. “What magic do you possess?”
Like a gift from heaven (or more likely hell) the doors to the barn were abruptly shoved open and a tiny gargoyle stepped into view, a frown on his ugly features as he glanced toward the hayloft.
“There you are.” His wings twitched, his tone petulant. “Really, ma cherie, I shall begin to suspect that you are attempting to avoid me.”
Ignoring Tane’s muttered opinion of interfering gargoyles and the pleasure of chopping them into tiny bits of stone, Laylah moved to jump from the hayloft, landing lightly in front of her savior.
“I promise, Levet, you’re not the one I’ve been trying to avoid.” She deliberately glanced toward Tane as he landed beside her, his expression grim.
The gargoyle grimaced. “Ah well, that is perfectly understandable.”
Sublimely indifferent to the insults, Tane circled behind the demon, peering out the door as if expecting to discover Levet had brought along a horde of ravaging zombies.
“Why are you here?” he demanded.
“Your fearless leader is concerned that he has not heard from his pet Charon.”
Seemingly convinced Levet had come alone, Tane turned to study the gargoyle with a disbelieving scowl.
“Styx sent you?”
Levet gave an airy wave of his hand. “In a manner of speaking.”
The honey eyes narrowed. “Did he send you or not?”
Levet took a sudden interest in polishing the end of his tail. “Well, it is difficult to say precisely what he desired considering I was speaking through a portal and our connection was not exactly 3G. There was some yadda yadda about this and some yadda yadda about that …”
“Levet.”
Sensing death in the air, Laylah hurriedly searched for a distraction.
“What the hell is a Charon anyway?”
It was Levet who answered. “A vampire executioner.”
“Nice.” She turned to meet Tane’s guarded gaze, belatedly realizing why the vampires had been so anxious to kill him in the cave. She’d bet he was the least popular guy at the family reunions. “No wonder you’re so eager to hand me over to the lynch squad.”
His dark brows lifted. “Lynch squad?”
“Tell me, is there some sort of Executioner Code of Honor?” she demanded. “Do you share bounties?”
“I do my duty.”
“You deal in death.”
He stiffened, almost as if her harsh words had wounded him. Which was beyond ridiculous.
“Deal in death.” Levet chuckled, blithely unconcerned by the lethal vampire that hovered mere feet away. “Death Dealer … get it?” His gray eyes widened. “Helloooo, did no one watch Underworld?”
Tane shot him a furious glare. “Go away, gargoyle.”
“And leave poor Laylah alone with a cold-hearted Charon? Do not be absurd.”
With a slow deliberate motion, Tane removed the dagger from his waistband. “That wasn’t a request.”
“No.” Laylah stepped between the two bristling males. “I want him to stay.”
Levet peeked around her knee to spray a raspberry at the towering demon.
“What can I say? I am irresistible to women.”
Tane ran a finger along the sharpened blade. “I doubt she would find you so irresistible if she’d heard your earlier opinion of Jinns and their offspring. As I recall you were foaming at the mouth to have Laylah hauled to the Commission.”
“Non, non, ma cherie. Never foaming,” the tiny gargoyle protested, moving to regard her with a pleading gaze. “It was merely that I had a most unpleasant encounter with a Jinn some years ago. Can you believe he mutilated one of my beautiful wings? It took me years to grow it back.”
Laylah shrugged aside the familiar sting of rejection. What did it matter? Levet was merely another to add to the very long list of those who judged her a monster without even knowing anything about her.
Instead she concentrated on his shocking revelation as she fell to her knees and grasped his shoulders.