“Tane.” Jagr gave a shake of his head. He wasn’t in the mood to play with the curs. He wanted to discover if Salvatore had any information on Regan’s sister, and be done with the entire mess. He turned his head to meet Hess’s glowing gaze. “What happened?”
Hess gritted his teeth, but obviously judging that Jagr was there to help, he jerked his head toward the cabin set in a clearing just on top of the ridge.
“Salvatore was to meet with Duncan in the cabin. He went in with the gargoyle and never came out.”
“Levet is missing as well?” Jagr demanded, his thoughts instantly turning to Regan’s bizarre fondness for the stupid beast. “Damn.”
Tane arched a raven brow. “I didn’t know you cared.”
Jagr shrugged. “Nothing would please me more than to send the stunted pain in the ass back to the gutter he crawled out of. Unfortunately, he’s a favorite of the Anasso’s mate.”
“And your own mate?” Tane demanded.
Jagr flinched at the unexpected stab of pain, swiftly returning his attention to the wary Hess.
“A pureblood and a gargoyle can’t just disappear,” he accused. “You saw nothing?”
Hess gritted his teeth, looking as if he were in dire need of some bloody, mindless violence to take the edge off.
“I saw nothing.”
Accepting that Hess was clueless, Jagr brushed past the curs and made his way to the cabin. Tane was quickly at his side, his gaze sweeping the ground with the expertise of a trained hunter.
“Footprints going in.” Tane pointed to the two sets of tracks.
“And none going out,” Jagr muttered, easily detecting the scents of Salvatore and Levet. They’d entered the cabin together and neither had left. Turning his head, Jagr stabbed the towering cur with a narrow gaze. “Are there any tunnels?”
Hess gave a shake of his head, tugging on the jeans he’d left near the door.
“Salvatore borrowed the cabin from the St. Louis pack master. I don’t know about any tunnels.”
Jagr growled with impatience. The cur’s talent as a king’s guard clearly wasn’t his keen intelligence.
“Is the pack master a pureblood?”
“Yes.”
“Then there’s a tunnel. You and your merry band of idiots—keep watch. I won’t be pleased with any unexpected visitors.”
“Don’t give me orders.” Hess snapped his fangs, his hands curled into fists large enough to smash a small car. Hell, maybe a midsize. “The others can keep watch, I’m coming with you.”
Only Jagr’s swift reflexes saved the damned cur’s life. Catching Tane’s arm as he surged toward Hess, Jagr gave the younger vampire a warning shake of his head.
Once Salvatore was found, Tane could snack on as many curs as he wanted. For now, they might have need of Hess’s considerable muscle, if not his less than considerable brain.
“Fine, just stay out of the way,” he warned.
Allowing the grumbling Tane to take the lead, Jagr entered the shadowed cabin, his instincts screaming as he moved toward the dead cur in the middle of the floor. His brows snapped together as a shiver inched down his spine.
What the hell?
It couldn’t be the heavy scent of death that made his nerves twitch, or his fangs lengthen. Death was his stock in trade. So what was it?
Bending beside the lifeless cur, Jagr allowed his senses to flow outward, his frown deepening at the strange prickles that filled the air.
It was almost as if lightning had recently struck.
Inside the cabin.
With a shake of his head, Jagr lifted his head to watch Tane circle the room.
“Well?”
“There are tunnels.” The younger vampire briefly closed his eyes. “Headed west.”
Jagr straightened, gesturing toward the hovering cur. “Start looking for a trapdoor.”
In silence, the three scoured the cramped cabin, seeking the entrance to the tunnels. It was at last Tane who discovered the hidden door at the side of the fireplace.
“Here.”
Not bothering to seek the lever that would open the door, Tane swung his arm and knocked the panel loose.
Instantly, the scent of Were blood filled the air.
With a howl, Hess charged forward, obviously intent on storming into the dark tunnel with mindless fury.
“Salvatore.”
Jagr grasped the cur by the neck and tossed him against a far wall.
“Dammit, if you can’t control yourself, then find me someone who can. Salvatore needs his guards to rescue him, not a pack of rabid beasts attracting unwanted attention.”
Hess banged his head against the wall, the muscles of his thick neck corded, his eyes squeezed shut as he battled the instinctive urge to shift.
At last he sucked in a ragged breath and rose to his feet. His eyes still glowed with an eerie light, but his expression was one of grim control.
“I won’t fail him.”
With a snort of disgust, Tane studied the hidden door that led to the tunnel buried nearly six feet beneath the ground.
“There’s the smell of curs, and something…” The golden features that spoke of South Pacific islands hardened with annoyance. “Else.”
Jagr joined his companion near the fireplace. “Witch?”
“Demon.”
“That covers a lot of territory.”
“That’s as close as I can get.” Tane shook his head. “I know it’s a demon and that it’s female, but…”
“But?”
“I don’t know what kind.”
Jagr shrugged. A demon would explain the oddly charged air around the dead cur. There were a few species that could call powers that were remarkably like a jolt of electricity. It might even be what had killed Duncan.
“Maybe it’s a mongrel,” he suggested. “They always leave a confusing scent.”
Tane smiled with a lethal intent. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Jagr stilled. “You intend to follow the trail?”
“I have nothing better to do at the moment.”
There was a growl from behind Jagr. “Not without me and the others,” Hess foolishly challenged. “Our lives are pledged to protecting our king.”
“And you’re doing a real bang-up job,” Tane mocked. Then astonishingly, the vampire muttered a curse and gave a wave of his hand. “Shit. Get your dogs and try to keep up.”
Hess was smart enough not to press his luck, and spinning on his heel, he ran from the cabin to collect the other curs. Alone with Tane, Jagr leaned against the edge of the fireplace.
“There’s no need for you to do this, Tane. Styx gave the duty of finding Salvatore to me.”
Tane sheathed his dagger and pulled a leather cord from the pocket of his khaki shorts to tie back his long raven hair.
“Which only confirms my belief that a vampire loses all higher brain functions when he becomes mated,” he drawled.
True enough. Regan had stolen any hope of coherent reasoning days ago. Of course, agreeing with Tane didn’t mean Jagr was going to stand around and be mocked by a vampire half his age.
“I’m not sure if you’re insulting Styx’s judgment, or my skills.”
Tane shrugged. “Both.”
“I always heard that Charons had a death wish.”
“Return to Chicago, Jagr. Until the woman takes you as a mate, you’re going to be worthless.”
Jagr’s hard, humorless laugh echoed through the barren cabin.
“Thanks.”
“You know I’m right.”
Of course Jagr knew. He wasn’t stupid, despite his lack of higher brain functions. Regan was a constant, endless distraction. A distraction could mean the difference between life and death when confronting an enemy.
But what the hell was he to do?
Lock himself in his lair and mold into a hermit?
He shoved away from the door and paced toward the center of the room.
“You may be right, but since the woman has no intention of taking me as a mate, I might as well…” Cutting off his words, Jagr turned to glare at the young vampire who had tossed back his head to laugh with obvious enjoyment. “You find something amusing?”
Tane met Jagr’s burning gaze without flinching. “I’m trying to decide if you’re blind or just a fool.”
Jagr stepped forward, his jaw clenched. “You really do have a death wish.”
“Shit, Jagr, that woman nearly sets the air on fire when she’s in the same room with you. I’m afraid I might get singed if I get too close.”
Jagr grunted at the painful blast of memories. Regan in his arms. Her nails digging into his back. Her soft moans brushing over his skin.
Tiny slices of paradise that would have to last him for the rest of eternity.
“I don’t doubt her desire, but we both know that it takes more than lust to form the mating bond,” he said, his voice thick.
“Thank the gods,” Tane muttered, referring to his own insatiable desire, before his expression become somber and he reached out to lay a hand on Jagr’s shoulder. “Look, old man, there are few demons who have more experience with desire in all its delightful forms than I do, and I know when a female is simply in heat. I’ve never had a woman look at me the way Regan looks at you. She might not admit it yet, but she’s yours.” He gave Jagr a smack on the back. “Go back to Chicago and claim her.”