“Did you get that off a bumper sticker?”
Morgana narrowed her gaze at the flippant response. Enough of this foolishness. She wanted answers. “Tell me how you found that emerald.”
“I told you.”
“My brother’s dead.”
“He may be dead, but he has no intention of resting in peace. Not until he’s had his revenge.”
Morgana’s gaze shifted to the emerald. She wanted to deny the bitch’s claim. Arthur’s powers were considerable, but not even he was above death.
Still, there was no denying the rare stone that glittered in the palm of Anna’s hand. Or the fact that the girl couldn’t possibly have acquired it without the assistance of her brother.
Somehow Arthur’s shade had reached out to Anna.
“He has no powers.” She lifted her hands, allowing her magic to swirl through the room, stirring the curtains and making the ugly framed pictures of roosters fall to the cracked linoleum floor. “He can’t harm me.”
Anna’s hair tangled in the breeze, but her expression never faltered. “But I can.”
“Can and will are two very different things, child.” Morgana stepped forward. “You don’t have the stomach to sacrifice your precious vampire to save yourself.”
“Actually, dear Aunt, you’ve miscalculated.” With an oddly haunted expression Anna shoved up the sleeve of her sweatshirt to reveal the unmistakable mark of a vampire. “Cezar has mated me, which means that if I die, he will die.” Her eyes lifted to stab Morgana with a glare of pure determination. “Don’t think for a moment I won’t take you with us.”
Chapter 21
Cezar awoke to a world filled with searing pain, and the annoying feeling of someone frantically slapping his cheek.
The ravaging pain he couldn’t stop, but he’d be damned if he was going to be bitch-slapped while he was struggling to regain his wits.
With a swift motion he caught the pesky hand in a grip tight enough to make his assailant curse in pain.
“Shit, vampire, let go,” the familiar voice of Troy muttered close to his ear.
Cautiously opening his eyes, Cezar glanced around to discover he was stretched on a filthy wood-planked floor with the prince leaning over him. Not the way any vampire liked to wake up.
“Back off,” he growled, watching with a narrowed gaze as the imp sat back on his heels before loosening his grip.
“I didn’t think you were ever going to wake,” Troy groused, rubbing his bruised fingers.
Assured there were no prying eyes, Cezar forced himself to a sitting position, gritting his teeth against the wave of weakness that rolled through his body.
“I possess some resistance to silver, but I’m not impervious to it,” he gritted. “How long have I been out?”
“Nearly an hour.”
“An hour?” Hissing in anger, Cezar forced himself to his feet. He remembered being carried into the house by Troy and hearing the queen command that he be strung from the rafters. After that, everything was a searing blur. “Dios.”
Rising, Troy dusted off his ridiculous spandex pants. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. Your mate has only been here a short time.”
Ignoring his companion, Cezar closed his eyes and reached out with his thoughts. He was briefly surprised by the sheer number of demons that filled the house. Not only Styx and Jagr, but nearly a dozen fairies. With a grimace, he shifted his attention to Anna, easily finding her just below him.
“She’s with Morgana,” he hissed, turning toward the narrow door across the dark attic. “I must go to her.”
Ignoring his instinct for self-preservation, Troy moved to stand directly before Cezar.
“Hold on, chief. I didn’t rescue your sorry hide to have you throw it away in some futile display of heroism.”
Before the imp could so much as blink, Cezar had his hand wrapped around the fool’s throat and was dangling him off the ground.
“Don’t try to stand in my path, imp,” he warned. “You won’t like the results.”
Troy’s eyes bulged as he struggled against Cezar’s hold, his complexion taking on a bluish tinge. “If you go charging down there Morgana will know that she no longer holds her threat over Anna. She will kill her before you can even get close.”
“You expect me to hide up here while Anna is in danger?” Cezar rasped.
“Damn, vampire, unlike you I need air. Let go.”
“I’m going to Anna.”
“At least warn her that you’re okay before you charge in there and start World War Three. She needs to know to protect herself.”
Cezar grudgingly accepted that the imp did have a point. For the moment Morgana presumed that she held the advantage. As long as she continued to believe that, she would be willing to savor her defeat of Anna. She was too arrogant not to want to gloat.
However, the moment she actually feared that she might be in true danger…
“Si. You’re right,” he muttered, dropping the imp back to the floorboards. “I must think.”
Troy managed to regain his feet, massaging his bruised neck. “Thank freaking God.”
“Don’t push me, imp,” Cezar growled, closing his eyes and turning his thoughts to the vampires below.
“What are you doing?” Troy demanded.
“Making a call.”
“You know it might be easier if you had a cell phone.”
Cezar’s hands twitched, but he managed to resist the urge to continue squeezing the life from the aggravating creature. Not out of any sense of compassion, but quite simply because he knew that Anna would not approve.
He was a mated vampire and the happiness of his female came before all other considerations.
“It would be easier if you would just shut up for a few minutes,” he snapped.
“Fine.” Troy made a sound of disgust. “This is the very last time I try to help vampires. Arrogant, cold bastards.”
Wisely ignoring the imp, Cezar reached out to his Anasso, careful to keep his powers restrained. The longer Morgana believed he was still bound in silver and harmless, the better.
“Styx.”
“Cezar, are you harmed?” The ancient vampire’s voice echoed through his mind with a fierce concern.
“I’m recovering. Tell me what is happening.”
“Jagr and I are downstairs surrounded by a bunch of very nervous fairies with twitchy fingers. I don’t think startling them would be a good idea at this point.”
It was exactly what Cezar had been expecting. Morgana might be an arrogant bitch, but she wasn’t stupid.
“What of Viper and Dante?”
“They are with Abby, Shay, and Darcy outside. They have the house surrounded, to make sure that no reinforcements can catch us unaware.”
Cezar’s lips unconsciously twitched. Styx might have been forced to take on the role of the Anasso, but he would always be a warrior at heart.
“I will try to reach Anna, although she’s not accustomed to accepting my thoughts into her own. She may not understand that it is truly me and not an illusion.”
“Anna Randal is remarkably intelligent, not to mention as stubborn as a werewolf, amigo,” Styx assured him dryly. “She will not fail you.”
No, she wouldn’t.
She possessed enough heart and courage to make his blood run cold.
“That’s not the question.”
Sensing Cezar’s frustration at his continual inability to keep Anna from harm, Styx filled Cezar’s mind with a flood of stern disapproval.
“Cezar, you have sacrificed centuries for this woman. You are incapable of failing her.” His voice echoed through Cezar, bringing a wry smile to his lips.
There was no point in arguing with the king. His loyalty was the stuff of legends. “After I contact Anna I will create a distraction,” he said instead. “Can you disarm the fairies?”
There was no need to see Styx’s expression to know he was outraged that Cezar would even ask such a question. “Are you trying to be amusing?”
“Just be ready.”
“Always.”
Pulling his thoughts from Styx, Cezar concentrated on his mate. On a distant level he was aware of the imp pacing the floor with a nervous step, and the stale dust that choked the air. He was even aware of the scent of the demons that patrolled the grounds outside. His attention, however, never wavered as he warily tapped into the thoughts of the woman he loved.
“Anna,” he said softly.
Her shock was tangible as she struggled to understand what was happening. “Cezar?”
“Anna, don’t speak aloud,” he commanded, his body tight with fear that she might reveal his presence to Morgana. Anna was close, but still too far away to save if Morgana should strike out. “I can hear your thoughts.”
There was a brief moment as Anna calmed her mind and body, the sweet smell of figs swirling through Cezar with a familiar warmth.
“Are you hurt? Morgana said…”
“I’m well,” he hastily assured her. “What of you?”
