The man shrugged. “Fools.”
“More than fools,” Marika countered. “They offer their blood and magic and most precious possessions, all in the hopes of summoning a god who will reward their loyalty with a brutal death.”
Laylah grimaced. It’d never been a secret that the Dark Lord was a bad guy on an epic scale. Thankfully, the scary ass Lord of Demons had been banished beyond the mists centuries ago. And while his minions, along with his minion wannabes, were constantly trying to bring him back from the other side, so far they’d been batting zero.
So what the hell was this crazy vampire and her slimy sidekick of a mage up to?
“So you don’t want the Dark Lord returned?”
“Of course I want him returned, but not as a pissed off, fully functioning deity who is anxious for revenge,” Marika snapped. “I want him … malleable.”
“Mon Dieu.” Levet’s wings quivered as he pressed against Laylah’s leg. “Have you ever met the Dark Lord? He is even less malleable than my great Aunt Zepharina who hasn’t budged from Notre Dame cathedral since 1163.”
Marika moved to stand directly in front of Levet, her expression sending a jolt of revulsion skittering down Laylah’s spine.
Reaching out, the vampire stroked her fingers over Levet’s stunted horn, her power altering to become something far more lethal than mere brute strength.
A dark, sweetly potent force that concealed a sickening rot.
“A clever woman always has the means to control a man whether he is a deformed gargoyle or a god,” she husked.
“Ah,” Levet’s tail twitched as Marika tugged on his horn. “Oui.”
Laylah rolled her eyes. Men. They were all the same. No matter what their size.
“How do you intend …” Her words broke off as she was hit with a terrifying suspicion. “Oh my gods. The baby.”
Marika shot her a mocking glance. “Perhaps you’re not so stupid as I thought.”
“What?” Levet shook off the sensual spell, absently scrubbing his horn as if trying to rid himself of the lingering feel of the vampire’s hand. “What is it?”
Her stomach clenched with guilt. Dammit. She’d been an idiot. A selfish idiot.
In her haste to come to London and track some vague rumor of a Jinn (who hadn’t been spotted for over two hundred years), she’d not only left the baby to be protected by mere wood sprites, but after years of keeping them both hidden, she’d now alerted the world there was a mongrel Jinn roaming around and then proceeded to waltz straight into the hands of her family, who also happened to be her worst enemies.
A record screw-up, even for her.
“Somehow she intends to have the Dark Lord resurrected into the child,” she told Levet, her gaze never wavering from the cold perfection of Marika’s face.
“Sergei has promised he possesses the necessary talent for such a miracle.” The vampire turned toward the mage with a taunting smile. “Let us hope he has not exaggerated his skills.”
Sergei shrugged, looking his usual smug self. But Laylah didn’t miss the unease in the back of the pale blue eyes.
Either the bastard wasn’t nearly so confident in his ability to resurrect evil deities as he pretended, or he was intelligent enough to be terrified of his partner.
Laylah was betting on the terrified option.
“I never promise more than I can deliver,” he drawled.
“Even if you did manage to resurrect the Dark Lord what good would he be to you as a mere child?” Laylah demanded.
If she did survive this encounter, then she needed all the information she could scrape together. She’d been stumbling through the dark for far too long.
How could she protect the baby if she didn’t understand the dangers?
“Children eventually mature.” She gave a toss of her raven curls. “Carefully protected by their devoted mother, of course.”
“Mother?” Laylah twitched at the mere thought. She wasn’t sure even the Dark Lord deserved such a hideous fate. “You?”
“How better to mold a god to suit my purpose?” Marika threw her arms wide. “When he at last regains his rightful place as the master of this world, I will stand at his side.”
Laylah swallowed the urge to laugh as the image of Leonardo DiCaprio standing at the rail of the Titanic shouting ‘I’m king of the world’ flashed through her mind.
There was nothing amusing in the thought of a demented vampire and an evil god taking over the world.
She turned toward the mage, bristling with anger at the memory of his deliberate cruelty. One day she was going to knock that cocky smile from his lips.
“That’s why you kidnapped me? To get the child?”
“Only a Jinn could enter the veil surrounding the cavern and since there’s no mage insane enough to trust such a rare treasure in the hands of a full-blooded Jinn, it was obvious we would need a mongrel.”
Her mind shied from the thought of what her mother must have suffered at the hands of the Jinn.
She would deal with the depraved method of her conception when she didn’t have an Armageddon hanging over her head.
Instead she concentrated on the child she’d sworn to protect.
“Did the Dark Lord create the baby or just donate the
DNA?”
“What does it matter?” There was a peevish edge to Marika’s voice, as if annoyed by the question. Odd. She’d answered the others readily enough. “I heard rumors of its existence and knew it would be the perfect means to take my rightful place.”
Laylah swallowed the lump in her throat.
The only rightful place for Auntie Marika was in the nearest looney bin.
“Where are you keeping my mother?”
The vampire slowly blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt change in subject.
Unfortunately, Laylah’s hope she might blurt out the truth was doomed to failure. Instead, a calculating expression hardened her delicate features.
“Ah. Poor Kata,” she purred. “I can’t tell you how it’s broken my heart to have kept her locked away. But really, she gave me no choice.” She slid forward, the scent of expensive perfume and cold malice wrapping around Laylah. “Of course, now that we have you, there’s no longer a need for her to remain my prisoner. With the proper incentive I might be convinced to release her.”
Laylah’s throat threatened to seal shut as the vampire cupped her cheek with icy fingers.
She’d never tested the limits of her ability to heal.