His brows snapped together. “Impossible.”
She narrowed her dark eyes. “Be careful how you speak to me. In my current mood I might just manage to forget I have need of you.”
He raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “I only meant that she is wrapped in layers of protective spells. A nuclear explosion couldn’t disturb her.”
“Maybe your spells are losing their …” She deliberately paused, her gaze lowering to his impressive pack age tucked into the Gucci slacks. “Potency. Do they have Viagra for magic? You’re growing old, after all.”
His lips curled with a pure male confidence. “There’s nothing wrong with my potency.”
“Then why is she whispering in my head?”
His cockiness faded as Marika allowed her power to sear into his skin with a brief, icy warning. It was ironic really. Her gift had once been to heal others. Since being turned, that same gift allowed her to torture with exquisite precision.
He nervously cleared his throat. “What is she saying?”
Marika’s pleasure in causing another pain was forgotten as she clenched her hands. She wasn’t sure when the provoking whispers had started. At first they had been so faint that she’d dismissed them. It wasn’t that unusual for her to sense Kata despite the numerous barriers that separated them.
Their connection was too intimate to be completely muted.
But over the past nights the distant buzz had become a desperate chant that refused to leave her in peace.
“Laylah,” she revealed. “Over and over again.”
“Laylah. A name?”
“How would I know?” she snapped.
“The two of you have always been close,” Sergei attempted to soothe. “You’re certain it has no meaning for you?”
She sank onto the divan, the heavy gold bangles that encircled her wrists shimmering in the torchlight.
“The bitch is obviously trying to drive me insane.”
Sergei paced the room, his brow furrowed. “Or offer a warning.”
Marika reached for the goblet of fresh blood that had been left on the lacquer table beside the divan. She preferred her dinner straight from the source, but at the moment she was too distracted to make the effort.
“Bloody twit,” she growled. “In case you’ve forgotten the last few times we roused Kata she tried to curse me. Why the hell would she try to warn me now?”
“I didn’t mean she was trying to warn you on purpose,” Sergei protested, grimacing at the reminder of Kata’s insane fury when they’d attempted to question her. “Obviously something is disturbing her enough that she’s managed to battle through the spells I laid on her. I doubt she’s even aware you’re picking up her thoughts.”
“What the hell could be bothering her? She’s buried beneath six feet of earth, surrounded by rune stones and guarded by the Sylvermyst.” She took another deep drink of the blood, pausing to deliberately lick the thick sweetness from her lips, enjoying the sight of Sergei’s twitch of unease. He should be nervous, she thought with savage pleasure. She was in the mood to hurt someone. Of course, she was always in the mood to hurt someone. “Unless there’s something you need to tell me?” she continued in icy tones. “You surely couldn’t be stupid enough to try and speak with Kata without me, would you?”
His throat convulsed as he struggled to swallow. “I’ve learned my lesson.”
“Are you certain?” she purred. “I could give you a small reminder of what happens to those creatures who attempt to betray me.”
The handsome face paled. As well it should. Although it had been nearly fifty years ago, a man did not forget being slowly skinned alive during the long hours of the night, only to be healed the next morning so the torture could begin again. Especially when the punishment lasted for several years.
A cruel smile twisted her lips. He should have known the minute he’d managed to trick Kata into revealing the location of her half-breed daughter he should have come to her. No, he should have run like a bat out of hell to her to reveal what he’d discovered.
Instead he’d turned traitor and nearly ruined everything.
Stupid bastard.
“I did it for us.”
Her laugh sliced through the cellar. “Oh Sergei, you’re a vain, grasping son of a bitch who would happily put his own mother on the sacrificial altar to gain the power you so desperately crave.”
He flinched, but a mage didn’t remain in the employ of a temperamental vampire without a set of titanium balls. He pasted a smile on his lips as he smoothly moved to kneel in front of her, his hands running an intimate path from her knees to her upper thighs.
“I may have my faults, but you need me.”
She polished off the last of the blood and set aside the goblet.
“Unfortunately,” she conceded in disgust. She deeply resented having to rely on the treacherous rat. But while Kata had some magical talents she was a mere human and Marika had no powers to keep her alive. Not unless she made her into a vampire. A tempting thought, but one she couldn’t afford to indulge. Not when she’d lose her one last connection to the missing child. “It would be so much easier if she were immortal.”
Sergei chuckled, sliding his hands between her thighs to caress her with a skill that took centuries to perfect.
“Perhaps easier, but you would miss me if I were gone,” he husked.
“So sure of yourself?”
The pale eyes shimmered with ready heat. “I fulfill more than one purpose.”
With a blur of motion she planted her foot in the center of his chest and sent him flying into the far wall.
“Later,” she growled, rising from the divan. “I want to know what is bothering Kata. Let me see her.”
“See her?”
Marika narrowed her gaze. “Are you deaf as well as stupid? I said let me see her.” “Yes. Of course.”
Straightening, Sergei dusted off his expensive suit and stiffly moved to the heavy wooden door across the room. Marika followed behind, waiting as the mage fumbled with the lock and at last led her into the barren room carved from stone.
She curled her lips at the stench of mold and nasty things rotting beneath the stone. Unlike her innate powers that called upon nature, Sergei was forced to use blood and death to create his spells.
Magical hack.
Bypassing the stone altar stained with blood that was set in the center of the floor, he halted beside a small depression filled with stagnant water. Then squatting at the edge, he waved his hands over the surface, muttering words beneath his breath.