“Your mother is a Carver witch?” Miru- kai already knew the answer. Belenos was after a witch who could mate with a vampire. There was only one such case in recent memory.
“Yeah, but she’s lost her magic.”
Miru-kai sucked in a breath, putting scraps of information together. Not the one who already has a vampire husband, but the monster-slaying sister. He’d heard tales about that one.
“Then your mother is Ashe, the elder daughter of Marian Carver.”
“How did you know that?”
“I try to know everything.”
“Even the first name of my grandma?”
“People still talk about your grandparents.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother killed them with a spell, of course.”
The child started where she sat, as if he’d pinched her. Her eyes flooded with dismay, then tears. “That’s a lie!”
Oh. Miru-kai cursed under his breath.
He’d blurted out the wrong thing. He was used to dealing with monsters, not the nursery. Wanting to comfort, he rested a hand on her thin shoulder, but she shrugged him off.
“I want to go home now,” she said in a small voice. “Leave me alone.”
Miru-kai straightened, folding his arms and contemplating the small, huddled form at his feet. Simeon would know what to do.
But Simeon was dead. Miru-kai was on his own with this weeping child. He tugged the ends of his mustaches, at a loss.
He might be a slippery, conniving thief, a warlord, a sorcerer, and an all-around bad sort of fellow, but he had softer instincts. He could well protect this child, at least until he was able to unravel the magic of the gem and make his escape. He might even keep her after that. He so wanted to have a human at his side again. . . .
There was much to ponder.
Ashe was heading back to the house, her cheeks stiff with dried tears. The crying came on and off, uncontrollable. Her nerves crackled as if she’d downed an oil tanker of coffee. Though her mind was clear, her body was manifesting all the fear she couldn’t acknowledge and stay sane. Breaking down wouldn’t help her daughter, but nobody’d told her shaking hands.
But she had found nothing.
No one had.
So far, there was no ransom, no demand. Whatever game the vampire was playing, she couldn’t figure it out. She really hoped Reynard had a clue what to do next, because her exhausted brain was full of nothing but panic.
Ashe stopped dead in her tracks. Holly was running out of the house with Robin in her arms, calling for help. Ashe sprinted across the street to join her, along with a crowd of other volunteers.
Alessandro, Holly’s vampire mate, reached her first. He was tall, with long, wheat blond curls and amber eyes. “What’s going on now?”
“I should have zapped his ass!” Tears streaked Holly’s face. Robin woke and started to fuss, making tiny, frustrated cries. Holly hushed her as they gathered around.
“Who are you zapping?” Ashe demanded. “And why?”
“Captain Broody, that’s who!” Holly hiccuped.
“Reynard?”
Alessandro put his arm around Holly, a gentle, affectionate gesture. “Hey, come on. Calm down.” Then he put his other arm around Ashe.
Ashe clutched her arms, feeling the night chill more than she should have. She was low on fuel. She hadn’t eaten. She couldn’t.
“Reynard thinks he knows where Eden is,” Holly blurted. “He went to the Castle to get her back.”
“Is she there?” Ashe made a confused sound. “Do you think he’s right?”
“He said something about dark fey working with Belenos.”
“Oh, Reynard,” Ashe choked out, her face growing cold with dread. “He’s going to fade if he goes in there. Why is he doing this?” But of course she knew why. Because of Eden. Because Reynard was who he was. Gratitude and anger collided. I can’t lose either of them!
“He said there was no time. He was afraid of what the fey would do.”
“Son of a . . .” Alessandro started swearing in a language she didn’t know.
Ashe vibrated with desperation, her stomach so knotted it hurt. “Goddess! I have to get there. I’m going to kill whoever has Eden! I’ve got to get him out of there!”
Alessandro Caravelli’s red T-bird was parked at the curb. Ashe took off, bolting across the lawn toward it. Alessandro beat her to it by seconds.
They got into the T-bird and took off with a scream of tires.
Once inside the Castle, Reynard followed the crystal’s direction. His boots echoed on the stone floor, every scuff rustling in the dark recesses of the corridors.
So far, he felt well enough to carry on with his mission—which wasn’t saying much. Like so many others from his time, he had marched under the scorching sun of India while dressed in a wool uniform suited to Britannia’s fog and rain. He was used to soldiering on through discomfort.
Still, he could tell the urn was far away—a different dimension counted more than miles. Strong as he was, there was a limit to his energy. It was draining like sand in an hourglass, each minute depleting a little piece of him.
He had anticipated this, so he paid attention to those occasions when the crystal took him near one of the patrolled areas. He meant to find a guardsman and send for help.
Unfortunately, no one was at their usual post. Had something happened to call them all away? His plan counted on reinforcements; if he couldn’t finish the search for Eden, someone else had to.
He walked on, his pace brisk. The corridors crisscrossed with mindless regularity, pools of torchlight just bright enough to give the shadows shape. The stone walls exhaled a clammy chill.
At the next post he reached, he called out. The echoes of his voice faded into the dark, drifting like dust. The dark halls were empty. No one was there to help.
Reynard paused for the barest fraction of a second and then pushed on, calculating the distance to the next post and how far he could go before he ran out of strength to generate a portal to safety.
And if no one was at the next post, either?
He had chosen this risk. He would see it through. Am I being an idiot?
Ah, well, he had dueled while drunk more than once. He had gambled and lost fortunes. He had bedded women who were as adept with poisons as pleasure, full well knowing that night’s death might be of the literal rather than the poetic kind. He was an idiot. Or at least he had been, before he came to the Castle. He didn’t take unnecessary chances anymore.
Now he knew the real face of danger. He had lost everything, all his choices.
Except this one. He chose to save the little girl who had given him hope. For her, he would gamble with the last scraps of his life.
For Ashe, who had given him back a taste of joy.
Reynard froze, listening. There was a scuffle of footsteps, soft soles on cold stone. Almost too soft to hear. Moving very, very fast.
Before he could draw into the shadows, a group of five vampires rounded the corner, moving smoothly as a school of sharp-toothed fish. Their pale faces floated in the dim light, eyes seeming lit from within. They came to an abrupt halt, staring at Reynard.
A tall red-haired male stood in the center of the group. The others surrounded him like an honor guard. All were armed and disheveled, as if they’d been in a fight. One had a gash in his temple, already scabbed over, a trickle of dried blood trailing down his cheek.
