With a throaty roar of power, Roke brought his turbine to a halt and, sliding off the elegant machine, he crossed to stand before them.
Dressed in black jeans, a leather jacket, and moccasin boots that reached his knees, he was not as tall as Styx, although they shared the same bronzed skin and dark hair that brushed his broad shoulders. His features were lean with the high cheekbones of his Native American bloodlines and a proud nose. His brow was wide and his lips generously full. But it was his eyes that captured and held attention.
Silver in color, they were so pale they appeared almost white, the shocking paleness emphasized by the rim of pure black that circled them. They were eyes that seemed to pierce through a person to lay bare their very soul.
Not always the most comfortable sensation.
Especially for those who didn’t particularly want their soul laid bare.
Which was . . . yeah, pretty much everyone.
“Styx.” Offering a low bow, Roke’s movements were liquid smooth as he slowly straightened and with stunning swiftness hurled a dagger to stick in the ground not an inch from Viper’s expensive leather shoes. “Viper.”
Viper growled, giving a wave of his hand to dislodge the dirt around Roke’s feet. All vampires could manipulate the soil, a necessary skill to protect them from the sun or to hide the corpses of their prey, but Viper was particularly skilled, and in less than a blink of an eye, Roke was buried up to his waist.
“Are you two done playing?” Styx demanded, his icy power biting through the air.
The clan chief of Nevada climbed out of the sandpit and dusted off his jeans, his expression as inscrutable as ever. “For now.”
Viper made a sound of impatience. “Why are we here?”
Styx nodded toward their companion. “Roke has something he believes we should see.”
“His collection of blow-up dolls?”
“Christ. Enough.” Styx bared his massive fangs in warning. He didn’t know what the hell had gone down between the two clan chiefs in the past and right now he couldn’t care less. He didn’t have time for their bullshit. “Roke, show me.”
“This way.”
In utter silence the three vampires ghosted through the darkness, moving with a speed that made them all but invisible.
They were nearing a line of rugged hills when Viper made a sound of impatience. “As much as I adore running through the barren desert, do we have an eventual destination?” he muttered.
On cue, Roke came to a sharp halt, pointing toward the desert floor just in front of them. “There.”
Viper rolled his eyes. “Man of few words.”
“Preferable to one who doesn’t know when to shut it,” Roke countered.
“Agreed,” Styx said dryly, shifting so he could study the ground where Roke was pointing. It took a long moment to recognize that the lines etched into the dry dirt were more than just the scribblings from some human. “Oh . . . shit.”
“What the hell?” Viper tilted back his head as he caught the lingering scent. “I smell pureblooded Were.”
“Cassandra,” Styx said, easily recognizing the scent of his mate’s twin sister, who had recently been revealed as a powerful prophet.
“And Caine,” Viper added. “Why would they be in the middle of the Mojave Desert?”
Now that was a hell of a question.
The pair of pureblooded Weres had been missing for weeks, despite Styx’s best efforts to locate them. An unbelievable feat considering he possessed the best trackers in the world. Of course, if the rumors were true, then the two Weres were already beyond his reach.
Which made any clue as to how she’d been captured or how to retrieve her from her current prison priceless.
“I’m more concerned with what they left behind,” he admitted, prowling around the edges of the strange symbols.
Viper frowned. “An etching?”
Styx shook his head. “It looks more like a hieroglyph.”
“A prophecy,” Roke said with a quiet confidence.
Styx turned to study the clan chief with a searching gaze. “Can you decipher it?”
“Yes, it’s a warning.”
Viper frowned. “You’re a seer?”
Roke shook his head, his gaze trained on the lines etched into the ground. “There’s only one prophet. But I was sired by a wisewoman who taught me to read the signs left by our forefathers.”
Of course. Styx abruptly understood precisely why he was standing in the middle of a desert. “So now we know why Cassandra chose to travel to Nevada,” he said wryly.
“Why?” Viper demanded.
He pointed toward Roke. “Because it was the one place to make certain her message would be understood.”
Viper snorted. “She could have sent a text and saved us a trip.”
Styx’s attention never wavered from the silent Roke. It was impossible to judge how the vampire felt about being pulled into the battle against the Dark Lord.
But then, he no doubt realized that it wasn’t a choice. Styx wasn’t the head of a damned democracy. He led his people by cunning and brute force when necessary.
“How did you discover this?”
“A cur stumbled across it two nights ago,” Roke promptly answered. “There are no Were packs in the area so he came to me with the information.”
“How many others did he tell?”
Roke instantly understood Styx’s concern. “None, but it’s been here at least two, maybe even three weeks.” He grimaced. “It’s impossible to know how many others have seen it.”
A pity, but there was nothing to be done, Styx silently conceded. “Could anyone else interpret it?”
Roke paused before giving a shake of his head. “Doubtful.”
Viper crouched down, studying the desert floor with a frown. “What does it say?”
Roke moved forward, careful not to disturb the marks as he pointed toward the strange etching closest to them. “This is the symbol for the Alpha and the Omega.”
Styx froze at the familiar words.
“The children,” he murmured, speaking of the twin babies that had been found by the half-Jinn mongrel, Laylah. She hadn’t known that they were the babies mentioned in the prophecies. Or that they’d been created by the Dark Lord so he could use them as vessels for his eventual resurrection. “What about them?”
Roke traced the symbol in the air. “Here they are joined.”
Styx nodded. When Laylah had found the children they’d been wrapped in the same stasis spell and she’d assumed there was only one child.