Santiago held up a hand in apology. Mierda. He truly was on the edge of sanity to deliberately goad the King of Vampires.
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said. And it was true. Styx was right. He’d waited centuries for the opportunity to confront his sire. Now he’d been given a second chance. Why wasn’t he leaping at the opportunity? “It’s—” He broke off with a shake of his head.
“Yes?”
“Nothing.” He pulled out his cell phone, concentrating on what needed to be accomplished before he could head out. “I need to contact Tonya to warn her she’ll be in charge of the club.”
“Of course.”
“Where’s the witch?”
“She’s at my lair in Chicago. Roke is keeping an eye on her in case this turns out to be a clever trick.”
Santiago sent his companion a startled glance. Roke, the clan chief from Nevada, was in an even fouler mood than Santiago since Styx had refused his return to his clan after Cassandra had revealed that she’d seen Roke in one of her visions.
“The poor witch,” he muttered. “That’s not a punishment I would wish on anyone.”
Styx shrugged. “He was the only one available.”
Santiago froze. “Is there something going on that I should know about?”
A strange expression tightened Styx’s lean features. Was it . . . embarrassment?
“Darcy insists that I devote my Ravens to trying to locate that damned gargoyle.”
Ah. Santiago struggled to hide his sudden smile. The Ravens were Styx’s private guards. The biggest, meanest vampires around. The fact he was being forced to use them to locate a three-foot gargoyle who’d been a pain in Styx’s ass for the past year must be driving him nuts.
“Levet is still missing?” he murmured. The tiny gargoyle had astonishingly played a major part in destroying the Dark Lord, but shortly after the battle he’d disappeared into thin air. Quite literally.
“You find that amusing?” Styx growled.
“Actually I find it a refreshing reminder of why I’m happy to be a bachelor.”
Styx’s annoyance melted away as a disturbing smile touched his mouth. “Who are you trying to convince?”
Santiago frowned. “Convince of what?”
“That you’re happy?” the older vampire clarified. “From all reports you’ve been storming around here, making life miserable for everyone since Nefri returned to her clan behind the Veil. That doesn’t sound like a man who is content with his bachelor existence.”
Damn Tonya and her big imp mouth. Shoving his phone back into his pocket, Santiago held out an impatient hand. “Do you have directions to Gaius’s lair?”
“Here.” Handing over a folded piece of paper, Styx suddenly grabbed Santiago’s wrist, his eyes glittering with warning. “For now all I want is information. Is that clear?”
“Crystal.”
“The Oracles won’t be happy if they find out you’re trespassing in their playground,” Styx warned. “Stay below the radar, amigo, and be careful.”
Santiago gave a slow nod. “Always.”
Chapter 2
The Oracles’ current lair
Halfway between Chicago and St. Louis
Nefri made her return to the mortal world on a high bluff overlooking the Mississippi River.
She shivered, wrapping her long cape tight around her tall, slender body. Not from the cold, although the October night held a chill that had been absent during her last visit to this side of the Veil. But instead from the onslaught of sensations.
It was all so . . . overwhelming.
The scent of damp earth and the thick moss that edged the banks of the nearby river. The screech of an owl and the rustle of dead leaves. The feel of her long black hair stirring in the breeze.
And, of course, the more intimate sensations.
Fear. Hunger.
Passion.
Standing perfectly still, Nefri smoothed her pale, oval face to an unreadable mask, a serene smile curving her lips and her ebony eyes revealing none of her inner turmoil.
Her considerable strength could overcome most dangers in this world, but the Commission was made up of the most powerful demons. They could eradicate her with a mere thought.
It was always like walking a tightrope when she was forced to meet with them. A tightrope that might snap at any second and plunge her to her death.
At last prepared, Nefri stepped through the entrance of the caves that had been hidden behind a spell of illusion and moved to the center of the large chamber. On cue a Zalez demon appeared.
Just for a second there was the impression of a tall gaunt body with an overlarge head and tilted, almond-shaped eyes. Then the creature shifted into its human form, a Viking warrior with short, spiky blond hair and eyes the stormy blue of the Baltic Sea. His magnificent body was bronzed and fit for a god, which wasn’t surprising considering he’d been worshipped by more than one primitive society. At the moment that magnificent form was covered only by a pair of faded denims that hung low on his hips.