Sergei straightened, a smile curving his lips. “Your niece has been here. Recently.” Marika clenched her hands, her nails drawing blood that dripped onto the stone floor.
Close. So close. “Where is she now?”
Sergei shrugged, pointing toward the water. “That’s where she disappeared.”
Marika leaned forward, studying the image that had formed on the surface. It took only a moment to recognize the tunnels.
“Victor’s lair.”
Sergei cursed, his face paling. Every creature in the demon world knew it was easier to escape the pits of hell than the clan chief’s dungeons.
“That makes no sense,” he rasped. “Why would she seek out a vampire?”
Marika shrugged, headed toward the door. “It’s more likely that Victor realized a Jinn had invaded his territory and took steps to capture her. It would explain why I lost track of her so swiftly.”
Sergei hurried to keep pace beside her. “Where are you going?”
She entered the outer cellar and headed toward a door hidden by a spell of illusion. Victor wasn’t the only one with private tunnels to move about the city.
“There’s only one way to discover if our beloved chief is holding the female.”
“And if he is?”
She tossed her companion a cold smile. “Then you’re going to make certain my property is returned to me.” Sergei’s face went from pale to downright gray.
“Shit.”
Chapter 8
Laylah stepped from behind the stairs as the scary mage and even scarier vampire disappeared through the back door.
Halting in the middle of the damp cellar, she absently rubbed her aching temples.
It seemed to be an evening for shocks, she ruefully concluded.
First had been her astonishment at the sight of the elegant vampire she’d followed into the town house. Juliet hadn’t been exaggerating. The two of them could have passed as twins. Well, except for the other woman’s long, dark hair. And the lethal fangs. And the psycho temper.
And then, of course, had been the shock of being so close to the mage who had brutally kidnapped her from her foster mother’s home and held her captive in Russia. The arrogant son of a bitch. It had taken every bit of her willpower not to charge into the kitchen and rip out his black heart.
Laylah shivered, trying to concentrate on what she’d discovered.
It wasn’t every day a girl found out she had an aunt who was a vampire and that the bitch was not only in cahoots with the mage who had imprisoned her for months, but that she was still on the hunt for her.
Her thoughts, however, kept slipping away as she was distracted by the soft sound of her name being called.
Where the hell was it coming from?
Barely aware of her surroundings, she headed toward the room where the vampire and mage had so recently left.
“Laylah, there is some ridiculous saying about ‘getting out while the getting is good,’ “ Levet muttered as he hastily followed in her wake. “I believe this is an appropriate moment for the getting out part.”
“Don’t you hear that?” she asked, grimacing as she entered the adjoining chamber to catch sight of the stone altar that dominated the dank space. Were those bloodstains?
She circled around the disgusting object, the voice still ringing in her ears. “Hear what?”
She frowned. Levet couldn’t hear the voice? Which meant she was either going mad or some unknown creature had zapped her with a Vulcan mind-meld.
Neither option held any appeal.
“Someone’s calling my name.”
Levet’s tail snapped and twitched with growing agitation. “I can tell you from painful experience that a mysterious creature calling your name inside your head is never a good thing.”
She ignored his warning, slowly approaching the pool of water in the floor that shimmered with a strange glow.
“I have to know.”
Levet stomped to stand at her side. “Of course you do.” “Laylah,” the soft voice crooned. “My beautiful Laylah.” Halting at the edge of the pool she glanced into the still water, her heart jerking in shock at the image of a woman stretched on a cot in some sort of dark cell.
For a mystified moment she thought it was Marika.
Understandable.
They could have been clones, until the woman in the image abruptly opened her eyes.
The eyes might have matched in shape and color, but there the resemblance ended.
Marika was a cold, cunning predator without conscience.
The woman reflected in the water possessed dark eyes that smoldered with the heat of her fierce emotions.
“Who are you?” Laylah breathed, ignoring Levet’s dire warning of speaking to strange women who magically appeared in water.
“Kata,” the woman offered, her lips moving as her voice left Laylah’s head and filled the cavern. “Your mother.”
Mother.
Laylah licked her lips, her heart ricocheting painfully around her rib cage.
Of all the scenarios she had envisioned of meeting her mother, this one had never popped into her mind.
“What’s happened to you?” she managed to rasp. “Are you being held captive?”
Kata shook her head, her body trembling beneath the shroud as if she were struggling against unseen bonds.
“It doesn’t matter, you must listen to me.”
“I can help you.”
“No.” Kata gave a frantic shake of her head. “You must protect the child.”
“Child?” Levet squeaked. “What child?”
Laylah waved a silencing hand toward the gargoyle. “He’s safe, I promise. But you …”
“My fate has no meaning,” the woman protested.
Laylah unconsciously sank to her knees beside the small pool of water. “It does to me.”
“Oh, my darling daughter.” Kata’s expression softened and Laylah would have sworn she could feel a warmth settle deep in her heart. “I knew you were destined for greatness from the first moment I held you in my arms.”
Yeah, right.
Laylah knew she could be gullible, but she wasn’t stupid.
“Then why did you throw me away?”
The dark eyes softened with distress. “Never, kicsim. It broke my heart to leave you in the care of Sadira.”
Laylah frowned. Sadira was her foster mother. A gentle witch with a messy thatch of silver curls and round face that was pretty in a grandmotherly sort of way.
She was the one person in the entire world she truly trusted.
Now she was supposed to believe that she’d lied to her?
“How do you know about Sadira?”
“She was my dearest friend when we were both just children in the old country.”
Laylah didn’t know or care what the hell the ‘old country’ meant. She was far more interested in the implication that she hadn’t been tossed out like rotting trash.
“But …” Laylah was forced to clear her throat. “She told me that she found me abandoned in the sewers of London and that she knew nothing about me or my parents.”
“I know, and I’m sorry for that,” the woman said, her voice thick with regret. “I made her swear never to tell you anything about your past.”
“Why?”
“I could not risk having you come in search of me. I had to keep Marika and her pet mage from using you to bring evil into the world.”
Laylah jerked in pain. Even accustomed to people assuming she was a cross between the boogieman and Rosemary’s Baby, it hurt.
“I’m not evil.”
“No, of course you are not. Anyone can sense your heart is pure,” her supposed mother protested. “But you are blessed with the ability to enter the mists.”
“Oh.” Comprehension slammed into her. “The babe.”
“Yes.”
She stiffened, a wave of emotions zigzagging through her. Fear, possession, and a shockingly maternal need to protect.
“But he’s an innocent. I swear to you.” “He possesses the blood of the Dark Lord.” Oh … shit. “His son?” “His vessel.”
Levet leaned forward. “Vessel? Are you certain?” Laylah shot him a suspicious glance. “Do you know something?”
“I know you never want to be a vessel for an evil god,” the gargoyle stated the obvious. “Very bad karma.” Laylah tilted her chin.
She didn’t care what blood might flow through her baby. Or why he’d been created.
She would kill to keep him safe.
“The babe is trapped in a spell, but I refuse to believe he’s evil,” she said. “I can sense his purity.”
The woman hesitated, as if troubled by Laylah’s obvious concern for the child.
“Not evil, but … empty.”
“I don’t understand.”
“He has been created by magic to be filled with the soul of another.”
Laylah bit back her words of protest. She didn’t intend to share her intimate knowledge of the child.
Not with anyone.
“The Dark Lord’s soul?” she instead asked.
“Yes.” Despite the invisible bonds that held her, Kata shivered in horror. “A genuine rebirth that will shred the veils between worlds and allow hell to spew forth.”
“Mon Dieu.” Levet poked her on the leg. “I particularly dislike hell spewing forth. Laylah, you must do something.”
“I’m working on it.” Her gaze never wavered from the vision of her mother. Gods. She’d always sensed the child was important. Perhaps even dangerous. But she’d never thought he was an apocalypse waiting to happen. “What can I do?”
The woman stared toward Laylah with a desperation that was nearly tangible.
“You must keep the child out of the hands of Marika,” she said, her eyes flashing with a fierce intensity. “She will use him for her own vile purpose.”
“Really, Kata, is that any way to speak of your only sister?” a cold, horrifyingly familiar voice sliced through the chamber.