It took a minute to realize why the dilapidated building had caught his attention. There was no blinking arrow pointing to it with the words “Evil Minion Lair.” Or nasty creatures peering out the shattered windows, wearing bad-guy uniforms.
Just the opposite.
At a glance, it would be easy to assume that nothing had disturbed the crumbling pile of brick and steel for years. There were no footprints, no animal droppings, not even a spiderweb.
But to Styx it was the very lack of trespassers, both human and animal, that proved there was something very powerful that lurked in the area.
“Wait, Levet,” he commanded.
The stunted gargoyle came to a grudging halt, turning to glare at him with obvious impatience. “Pourquoi? We are finally gaining on him.”
“Kostas is near.”
“Non.” The tiny demon shook his head, pointed down the isolated road that headed toward the distant lights of St. Louis. “His trail continues into town.”
Styx pointed toward the silent warehouse. “He doubled back.”
Darcy moved to stand next to him, her head tilted to the side as she studied his stubborn expression. “How can you know?”
“It’s what I would do.”
Levet’s wings fluttered as he stomped back toward Styx. “And that is all the evidence you have?”
Styx ignored the aggravating pest, lifting his hand to bring Jagr and Jaelyn from the shadows where they were standing guard.
“Jagr, circle to the back of the building. Make sure nothing escapes.”
“You got it.”
The massive Goth disappeared in a blur of speed, his sword already drawn and his fangs flashing in the moonlight.
“Jaelyn.”
“Yes?” The tiny Hunter stroked the stock of her sawed-off shotgun, her eyes shimmering with anticipation. She more than anyone had suffered beneath Kostas’s arrogant harassment. Hell, the bastard had wanted to execute her. It was no wonder she was anxious to get her hands on the ex-Ruah.
“On the roof.”
She was off with the same blinding speed as Jagr, blending into the darkness. Still Styx remained at the edge of the road, forcing himself to wait until his soldiers were in place.
Restlessly his gaze skimmed over the two-story building. The bricks had faded to a dull shade of rust with occasional rods of rebar sticking out like thorns. The roof was sagging and the window frames were rotted beyond repair. Closer at hand, the parking lot was cracked with large clumps of grass growing wild.
There was, however, a new lock on the double steel doors and the faint hint of fairy that lingered in the air. Kostas had no doubt brought dinner with him.
On the point of heading into the warehouse, Styx was halted as Levet waddled to stand directly in his path.
“What of me?”
He bit back a curse of impatience. “Keep an eye on the road. I don’t want anything or anyone sneaking up on me.”
“Bah.” Levet’s tail twitched. “My talents are wasted out here.”
Styx scowled. “What talents?”
“I believe he’s referring to his magic,” Darcy gently reminded him, a faint smile curving her lips.
“Exactly.” Levet pointed a claw toward Styx. “You are just trying to be rid of me.”
“Fine.” Styx folded his arms over his chest. “If you want to fight one of the most powerful vampires to walk the earth, who has not only trained for the past millennium to become the ultimate assassin, but has recently sold his soul to the Dark Lord, then you can take the lead.”
“Ah.” The gargoyle cleared his throat, scratching one horn as he glanced toward the deserted road. “Perhaps it would be best if I keep guard out here.”
“Good choice,” Styx said dryly. Then, knowing the next battle wasn’t going to be so easily won, he turned to study his stubborn mate with a warning glare. “You,” he growled, cupping her chin in his hand. “Stay here.”
Any other creature would have fainted in sheer terror. Styx was a demon who put the bad in badass.
Darcy, of course, rose on her tiptoes and poked her finger into the center of his chest. As badass as Styx might be, he was no match for this tiny Were.
“And let you go in there alone?” Her eyes sparked with emerald embers. “No. Way.”
“Darcy.”
“Don’t you Darcy me.” Poke, poke, poke. Her finger nearly drilled a hole through his chest.
He grabbed her hand to lift it to his lips, as much to end her painful prodding as to offer her comfort. “Angel, we both know that Kostas is foaming at the mouth to get his hands on me after I demoted him.”
“Which is precisely why you shouldn’t be the one to confront him,” she pointed out through clenched teeth. “He’s obviously gone over the edge.”
Styx shrugged. “He’s also involved with the plot to return the Dark Lord. It’s my duty to stop him.”
“Hasn’t he already done his part?” Darcy demanded with a scowl.
Styx growled at the unwelcomed reminder. His fangs ached for blood. Kostas’s blood. The bastard had snuck into his lair and stolen the precious baby who had become as beloved to him as if he were his own son. And why? Because his bloated pride had been dented at being removed as the head of the Addonexus.
“One part. At least, that we know about,” he said. “I need to know if there’s more. And just as importantly, I need to know if I have more traitors among my people.”
Darcy froze, their bond allowing her to fully feel the sense of unbearable failure that pulsed through him. “You think he’ll confess the truth to you?” she asked softly.
“He believes he’s beaten me. He’s too arrogant not to boast.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“I’ll kill him.”
She heaved a resigned sigh, her beautiful features somber as she stepped forward to lay her head over his unbeating heart.
“Be careful.”
Styx pressed his lips to the top of her head, savoring the feel of her warmth seep into his chilled blood. How the hell had he ever survived without this astonishing female?
“Aren’t I always?”
She harrumphed, pulling back to reveal her frown. “Being immortal doesn’t mean you’re immune to death.”
“Don’t worry, angel.” He brushed his lips over her forehead. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“Styx,” she muttered, needing to be reassured that he wouldn’t allow his desire for revenge to overcome his common sense.
“I will take the greatest care, I promise,” he swore, stroking another kiss over her forehead before shifting his gaze toward the hovering gargoyle. “Take care of her.”
Levet gave a solemn dip of his head. “Always.”
Pulling away from his mate, Styx turned to cross the empty parking lot. It was too late for a stealth approach. Thank the gods. Six-foot-five Aztec warriors didn’t do sneaky. At least not very well.
Of course, they did do destruction quite well, he consoled himself, slamming his foot against the steel doors. With an ear-piercing screech the doors were wrenched off their hinges and flying across the narrow lobby.
Styx didn’t hesitate. Jogging across the peeling linoleum, he ignored the doors that opened into the warehouse floor and instead headed for the stairs that led to the basement. The air was edged with a distinct chill as he descended into the darkness, and pulling his sword from its scabbard, Styx followed the thickening scent of fairy.
The traitor was near.
Pressing his back against the wall, Styx inched his way down the narrow corridor, slowly entering the room at the end.
A swift glance revealed that it was little more than a six-by-six cement box that had been stripped of everything but a long wooden table that was stained with blood.
An altar?
It would explain why Kostas had run to this location. He no doubt hoped his new mistress would protect him from Styx’s wrath. Where else would he go to seek her assistance, but to the shrine where he worshipped her?
Curling his lips in disgust, Styx stepped through the doorway, briefly glancing toward the fairy who was cowering in the corner. The poor creature was shivering in obvious terror, her deep red hair hanging in tangles around her tear-stained face and her arms wrapped around her naked body. It was her wide gaze, however, that captured Styx’s attention.
Following the direction where she stared in obvious terror, Styx moved to stand directly beside the altar.
“You can drop the shadows, Kostas,” he commanded. “I know you’re here. I smell your worthless ass.”
The musty air stirred, and then the darkness in front of him faded to reveal Kostas.
Wearing a too-tight T-shirt that matched his cammo pants, the vampire gripped a large dagger in his hands. Another dagger was strapped to his waist with two guns holstered on each side of his chest. He looked like a paranoid Rambo on steroids.
With a snort, Styx move forward, his lips twisting with amusement as the large Hunter took a hasty step backward, his hands curled into tight fists. Then, realizing what he’d revealed, the vampire squared his broad shoulders and glared at Styx.