“So how was this book able to hurt the spirit?” he asked.
Hmmm. How to explain what she was sensing to two vampires who made a habit of pretending magic didn’t exist.
“It’s not really a book,” she at last admitted.
Predictably Roke frowned in suspicion. He understood a book. Even one that might hold magical spells. “It’s not?”
She lifted her hands, searching for the right words. “It has the physical appearance of a book, but it’s only a focal point for the power.”
Roke frowned, but not bothering to try and question what a focal point might be, he honed in on the most important detail of her revelation. “That doesn’t explain why it affects the spirit.”
Styx paced toward the door and back, clearly lost in his own thoughts. “Santiago said that the creature feeds on emotion,” he abruptly stated.
“So a void . . .” Roke’s eyes widened. “Of course. It would starve him.”
It took a minute for Sally to follow their line of logic, then she gave a sound of shock.
The void was absorbing emotions.
A perfect weapon to battle the creature.
Whether or not it was created to perform some other purpose was impossible for her to say.
“Can the book, or whatever the hell it is, be moved?” Styx asked, his warrior mind already considering the best way to use their unexpected advantage.
She shrugged. “In theory.”
Styx nodded. “So now the question is, how do we track a spirit that can seemingly jump from body to body?”
It was Sally’s turn to be struck by a sudden fear. Not for herself. But for Roke, who would insist on being a part of the hunt for the spirit.
“Santiago knows this is the only thing that can hurt the creature,” she hurriedly pointed out. “He’ll do everything in his power to return him to this warehouse.”
Styx looked far from pleased by her sensible suggestion. Like all vampires he had the patience of a human five-year-old.
Or maybe the need to leap willy-nilly into danger was a male thing.
“So we wait?” he growled.
She shrugged. “What else can we do?”
Without warning, Roke was straightening, dragging her upright so he could wrap her in his arms. “I know what you’re going to do,” he said in tones that made the hair on her nape stand upright.
“What’s that?”
“You’ve done your part.” He held her gaze, his expression ruthless. “It’s time for you to return to your rooms.”
“I agree,” Styx abruptly nipped her urge to argue in the bud. “It’s . . .”
There was no warning.
At least none that Sally could detect.
It was simply as if an invisible doorway opened and an entwined trio of vampires tumbled into the room.
“Too late,” she croaked.
Santiago had endured torture on an epic scale.
In the Gladiator pits mere survival meant enduring pain that would kill a lesser demon.
But even prepared, he couldn’t prevent his grunt of agony as Nefri’s fangs sank into his throat and her claws dug deep grooves into his back.
Cristo.
He’d known she was lethal, but even without using her innate powers she was a formidable enemy. He would have only minutes before she tired of her game and ended him.
Time enough?
He was about to find out.
Keeping a death grip on the rapidly dying Gaius, as well as maintaining his hold on Nefri, he braced himself for their abrupt return to the warehouse.
He would never, ever get used to traveling through space like a damned Jinn.
His feet had barely hit the floor when he sensed Styx rushing forward.
“Santiago.”
“Wait.” He dropped Gaius so he could hold out a warning hand. “She’s being controlled by the spirit.”
“Good,” the Anasso growled. “I’ve been waiting for the bastard.”
On cue Nefri ripped her fangs from his throat, whirling to face the towering vampire.
“So. At last I meet the great Anasso,” Nefri mocked, her power beginning to fill the air. “The King of All Vampires.”
Styx moved backward, drawing Nefri away. Santiago sank to the floor, the blood dripping from his wounds as his flesh slowly knit back together.
“An empty title,” Styx said, his voice taunting. “Almost as empty as that of god.”
An eerie laugh fell from Nefri’s lips. “Shall I demonstrate how wrong you are?”
Styx braced himself for the coming attack. “Roke, don’t let her get past the door,” he commanded. “And Santiago . . .”
“I’ll guard the windows.”
Santiago began to rise to his feet when Gaius grabbed his hand.
“My son . . . wait.”
Santiago hid a grimace, knowing his former sire had only minutes left. “What do you want?”
Shaking from the effort, he grabbed the medallion and with the last of his strength, he broke the chain that held it around his neck. “Here.”
Santiago flinched from the medallion that had been tainted by the Dark Lord. The small piece of metal had caused untold misery. “Keep it,” he growled.
“No . . .” Gaius grimaced, his rotting face a gruesome mockery of the handsome, vital vampire he’d been just weeks ago. “You must destroy it.”
He was right.
Even if the Dark Lord was dead and they managed to destroy the spirit that was their latest threat, the medallion symbolized evil.
It couldn’t be allowed to remain in the world.
Santiago reluctantly took the medallion. “I’ll make sure it’s destroyed.”
“Thank you. I—”
“Don’t,” Santiago interrupted. He would never be able to fully forgive this man for his betrayals. Not when he’d nearly destroyed the world with his selfish needs. But a part of him now at least understood what would drive a man to such extremes. “I will remember my sire as the man who took me into his lair and gave me a home,” he said in a low voice. “The man who taught me the meaning of family.”
“Son . . . my son . . .” A shattered moan of relief hissed past Gaius’s lips before the light died from his eyes and he was allowed to escape the slow, painful decay.
Rising to his feet as Gaius turned to ash, Santiago slipped the medallion into his pocket, determined to honor his sire’s last request.
Then he turned just in time to witness Nefri sending a blast of power toward Styx.
The very air sizzled before the power smacked into Styx with enough force to send him flying into the far wall. The entire building shook from the impact, broken plaster cascading down on their heads.