He needed her.
She knew it to the very depths of her soul.
Tracing Salvatore’s scent, she followed it to a narrow staircase that led down to the basement level. Her foot was on the top step when she heard the sound of Salvatore’s voice coming from the ceiling.
What the heck?
She glanced up, at last spotting the vent hidden in the ceiling.
Obviously, the king and Harley were in a room above her, unaware that their conversation could be overheard.
“So there’s no hope?” Harley was softly demanding.
“I’m afraid not,” Salvatore said, unaware his bleak words were slicing through Cassie with a savage pain. “He’s too far gone.”
Harley made a sound of distress. “What if we call for a witch? If the spell could be removed, then maybe you could reach him.”
She heard Salvatore heave a harsh sigh. “There’s nothing left of the spell.”
Cassie frowned as Harley asked the question that was on her own lips.
“How’s that possible?”
“Cassandra said that the cur who cast the spell is dead. I would guess the spell died with him.”
“Salvatore, we have to do something,” Harley pleaded.
“He needs to be put out of his misery.”
Cassie slapped a hand over her mouth to hold back her shattered cry of denial at Salvatore’s ruthless confession. What did it matter what the king wanted? There wasn’t a chance in hell that she was going to let anyone hurt Caine.
Not now. Not ever.
“No,” Harley said, her voice shaky.
“I don’t intend to make a decision tonight,” Salvatore assured his mate, although Cassie didn’t miss the grim edge in his voice. He would do what he thought best for his people. Even if it meant destroying a feral Were. “There are too many other pressing concerns.”
“True,” Harley grudgingly conceded. “Styx and Jagr have returned.”
“I must speak with them.”
“What should I tell Cassandra?”
“Nothing tonight,” Salvatore said in weary tones. “Let her have a few hours of rest. We’ll break the news in the morning.”
Harley sniffed, as if she were trying to hold back tears. “This is going to destroy her.”
“Not if she has us to give her the support she needs,” Salvatore comforted his distraught mate. “Are you coming with me?”
“Yes, I need to warn Darcy what’s happened.”
Chapter 20
It took Cassie several deep breaths before she could force her shaky legs to continue down the stairs.
She had no intention of accepting defeat, no matter what the king might say, but she couldn’t deny a piercing sense of disappointment. She’d desperately hoped that Salvatore could force his way through Caine’s feral insanity. To reach the man, or even the wolf, beneath the madness.
Now she had no one to depend on except herself.
Not a particularly reassuring thought.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she was forced to a halt, not surprised by the confusing maze of cement tunnels that sprawled beneath the vast estate. The lair belonged to the King of Vampires. The only surprising thing would be if there weren’t a hundred passageways for Styx’s sun-challenged clan to travel around Chicago.
A tiny chill inched down her spine. Gods, but she hated being below ground.
Even with the high ceilings that were lined with fluorescent lights and the well-ventilated air, the tunnels were enough to make her have flashbacks to those long, dark years she’d been trapped in the demon lord’s lair.
She needed Caine, she acknowledged with a smile of pure irony. If he were with her, she wouldn’t be afraid.
He was her courage.
Reminding herself that she was wasting precious time, Cassie squared her shoulders and followed Caine’s fading scent down the nearest tunnel.
She was forced to double back twice when she caught the scent of an approaching vamp, but at last she reached the narrow passage that led to Caine’s cell. Her steps were halted, however, by the distinct scent of granite that teased at her nose.
Granite?
She slowly turned, her brows rising at the sight of the tiny gargoyle who waddled around the corner, his wings shimmering in a dazzling display of crimson and blue with veins of gold.
“Ma chérie? Where are you going?”
Cassie frowned; then the brief memory of seeing the small creature in the company of Tane and Jaelyn several weeks before teased at the edge of her mind. “Oh. I remember you.”
“Levet.” The gargoyle performed a deep bow. “At your service.”
At any other time, Cassie might have been charmed by the odd little creature. Right now, she just wanted him gone. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t have time now.”
Turning back to the passageway, she cautiously made her way down the cement floor, trying to ignore the gargoyle, who hurried to keep pace at her side.
“I received your message,” he said, his voice carrying a lilting French accent.
“My message?” Cassie furrowed her brow before she abruptly recalled her futile attempt to send the warning that Maluhia was in danger. “Oh. It wasn’t enough.” She grimaced, her gaze trained on the heavy metal door at the end of the hall. “It’s never enough.”
“We are all simply trying to do our best in very difficult circumstances,” Levet assured her.
“Yes,” she muttered in distracted tones, far more concerned with the imposing door and whether or not it was locked. “I suppose.”
There were a few seconds of blessed silence before the gargoyle was tugging on the hem of her new khaki shorts, which Regan had insisted she borrow along with a jade green shirt.
“Darcy is here.”
She heaved a sigh, her steps never slowing. “So I heard.”
“I am certain she would desire an opportunity to meet you.”
“Later.”
With a flutter of his wings, Levet moved to stand directly in her path, a worried expression on his ugly little features. “I really think it would be better if you went now.”
Forced to halt, she glared at her unwanted companion. Had he been sent by one of her sisters? She couldn’t imagine the arrogant Salvatore depending on this demon to guard his prisoners.
“Please, Levet,” she pleaded in husky tones. “Just leave me alone.”
He lifted his hands in a helpless motion, his long tail twitching. “I cannot.”
“Why?”