Cezar watched the puzzlement fill Anna’s eyes at his soft words. Not surprising. Despite her hard-earned confidence in her abilities, she was still remarkably oblivious to just how truly special she was.
The Oracles, however, were very much aware that her talents were more than her ability to control the elements, or even the ancient destiny that coursed through her blood. Her true power was her unwavering integrity.
This was not a woman who would be swayed by power or anger or fear. She would do what she felt was right in her heart.
He had chosen well, he acknowledged with a flare of pride.
“Is that another one of those mysterious comments that you have no intention of explaining?” she demanded with an edge in her voice.
Cezar smiled wryly. “I think we should move on to more pressing matters.”
“Such as Morgana le Fay?”
“Si.” His arm tightened around her. Dios. He would give his life if he could keep her out of this battle. As her mate it was his sacred duty to protect her and keep her from harm. But, while his instincts screamed to send her far from Chicago so he could hunt Morgana, logic dictated that his martyrdom would achieve nothing more than leaving Anna alone to face the Fairy Queen. He couldn’t kill Morgana le Fay. All he could do was stand at Anna’s side and do everything in his power to see that she succeeded in defeating the bitch. “Morgana le Fay—and how the hell are we going to find her?”
“Oh.” Without warning she struggled from his tight grip and turned around on the bed to face him.
“What?” he demanded.
“I remember something.” Her forehead creased. “Something Clara said.”
“About Morgana?”
She gave a slow nod. “She was babbling about how she tracked me, and then she said that it took so long because the barn was nearly on Morgana’s doorstep.”
Cezar clenched his hands at the startling revelation. He knew he should be happy. If Morgana was within striking distance then this madness might soon be at an end and Anna would be safe. But happiness wasn’t what flooded through him. Instead it was a sharp horror at the mere thought that Anna would soon be forced to face the woman determined to kill her.
With an effort he unclenched his stiff jaws and pushed aside the fear.
“We must tell Styx.”
“Now?” With a small smile, Anna leaned forward, boldly pressing her lips to his chest. Cezar hissed at the feel of her soft caress and the magical scent that wrapped around him. “Right…” Her lips trailed downward. “Exactly…” She nipped the taut skin of his stomach. “Now?”
Cezar tangled his fingers in her hair as he squeezed his eyes shut in sheer bliss.
“Maybe we could wait a minute or two,” he rasped.
“Or three,” she muttered before taking him into her mouth and ending all coherent thought.
Morgana was seated in her bedroom having her long hair brushed by her current lover, a lovely fairy with long blond hair and blue eyes, when Modron staggered into the room and fell to her knees.
Ash screeched in alarm as the hag’s eyes glowed with an eerie white light, but Morgana was swiftly on her feet and shoving aside her squeamish companion.
It had been centuries since the last time, but she recognized when her seer was in the grips of a vision.
“What is it, Modron?” she demanded. “What do you see?”
“Green fire,” the woman moaned, wrapping her arms around herself as she rocked back and forth. “Bathed in green fire.”
“Green fire?” Morgana frowned. “Is it a magical fire?”
“Green fire is everywhere.”
“Yes, you’ve said that, you annoying twit. What does it mean?”
Modron moaned, shaking her head. “Fire…it burns. It burns.”
A cold fear pierced Morgana’s heart. Striding forward she slapped the hag across her ugly cheek.
“Damn you, what is it?”
The glowing white eyes turned toward her, sightless and yet filled with some awful knowledge.
“Arthur,” Modron rasped, her gnarled finger pointing directly at Morgana. “He comes. He comes for you.”
Ash gasped in fear, but Morgana’s face twisted in fury at the mention of her brother.
There was nothing more certain to stir her ready temper than the mention of Arthur.
“Impossible,” she hissed.
Modron shook her head. “Not impossible. Even now he stirs, his weapon cutting through air like an arrow toward its target. The end is coming.”
With an infuriated motion, Morgana backhanded the seer with enough force to send the woman flying into the wall. When she bounced onto the floor she was dead.
At the sound of the disturbance the door to the bedroom was thrust open and two male fairies rushed in, waving their ridiculous guns as if they could be some sort of help.
“Get her out of here.” Morgana pointed toward the bundle of rags in the middle of the floor. “Now.”
With fearful glances in her direction, the two minions scuttled to grab the lifeless Modron and tugged her from the room. Morgana waited until they had crossed the threshold before she slammed the door shut with her powers.
Damn Modron. The stupid woman had no one to blame but herself for making Morgana lose her temper.
What was the point in having visions if they did nothing but offer vague warnings that made no sense?
Green fire? Her dead brother with some sort of weapon?
It was nothing more than gibberish.
“Your Majesty,” Ash said in soft, fearful tones.
Whirling about she glared at him with impatience. “What?”
He licked his thick, pouty lips, looking as if it was taking all his courage not to toss himself through the window. There were few who would willingly linger when her powers began to fill the room.
“Perhaps we should leave here,” he at last admitted, stumbling over his words. “If the seer speaks true…”
Morgana stepped toward her lover, her eyes narrowed in warning. “You would have me flee from a mere girl? A girl who has no idea of her own powers?”
The fairy wisely fell to his knees, his head bowed in respect. “She can’t follow you to Avalon.”
“I will not return to my prison,” Morgana growled, her hair floating in the surge of power. “Not when I am so close to victory.”
“But the seer…”
She reached down to grasp Ash’s chin, jerking his head back to meet her lethal gaze.
“I allowed Modron and her pathetic visions to keep me imprisoned too long.” She tightened her fingers until she threatened to crush Ash’s bones. By her brother’s rotten blood, she was tired of hiding within the mists of her island. She was a queen. A powerful leader who should be worshipped by demons and humans everywhere. To hell with prophecy, she would make her own fate. “Once Anna Randal is dead I will be free to spread my powers throughout the world. Never again will we be forced to hide in the shadows or to bow to those who are beneath us. It will at last be a world that worships the fairies.”
Ash gave a low groan in pain. “But she spoke of Arthur. What if he still lives?”
“My brother is dead and in his grave,” she hissed. “I should know, I buried him myself.”
Something that might have been relief flashed through the blue eyes. “Then I must call for soldiers. You can’t face her alone.”
“Ah yes, my soldiers.” Releasing her hold on the fairy’s chin, Morgana turned to stalk across the cramped room. “They have proven so terribly useful, do you not think, Ash?”
“There have been…difficulties, my Queen.”
With a swift motion, Morgana turned, her burst of power shattering the mirror that stood in the corner.
“So I am told with monotonous regularity,” she said, her voice thick with disgust. How many fairies had she sent to capture Anna Randal only to be disappointed time after time? Clearly, she had been gone from the world too long. “It seems more likely that my beloved subjects have grown lax over the centuries. Or perhaps they have forgotten just how nasty my temper can be when I am disappointed.”
Ash swayed and nearly tumbled backwards. “No, my Queen, we have not forgotten.”
“Still, I think a reminder would not come amiss.” She smiled, and Ash gave up his efforts and slumped sideways in a deep swoon. Moving forward, Morgana casually kicked his limp body into a distant corner before moving across the room to pull open the small, dark closet. A portion of her seething fury eased as she caught sight of the red-haired imp that hung by his neck from an exposed beam. Few things pleased her more than punishing a traitor, and Troy, Prince of Imps, had proven that he was a turncoat of the worst sort. For a moment she considered the notion of devoting a few hours to stripping the skin off the brawny imp, only to give a shake of her head. She was weary of sending out her incompetent, bumbling fairies to disappoint her over and over. It was time to take matters into her own hands. And this treacherous imp was the perfect means to accomplish her task.
Stepping forward, she chuckled as Troy’s emerald eyes flashed with soul-deep fear.
“Well, well, Troy. It appears that you are to be given a chance to redeem yourself in the eyes of your queen.” She reached up to place a hand on his chest, smiling as he screamed in pain. “If you don’t want to spend the rest of eternity being my plaything I suggest you don’t screw it up this time.”
It was nearly two hours later when Anna and Cezar at last emerged from their underground room and made their way toward Viper’s private study at the back of the large, but charmingly unpretentious, country house.
They had showered (a slow, hot, delicious shower) and changed into the clothes that Viper had sent to them, and since Cezar had earlier contacted his host and asked that he request Styx to meet him here, he knew they would impatiently be awaiting their arrival.
Still, he found his feet halting before he could reach the door to the study, as if they had acquired a mind of their own.
At his side, Anna turned to face him. “Is something wrong?”
“I wish…” His voice was thick, his body feeling stiff and awkward. Dios. He’d never felt fear such as this. Not even when he was wading through the bloodiest of battles. “I wish this was over and done with so we could just be together.”
A sad smile touched her lips. “Yes.”
On the point of reaching for her, Cezar was halted as the door was yanked open and Styx stepped into sight. As always, the looming Aztec looked ominous in his black leather and braided hair.
“Night is wasting, amigo,” the Anasso rasped. “We need to make our plans.”
“We’re coming,” Cezar muttered, his narrowed gaze sending Styx retreating back to the study with a wry smile. Waiting until they were alone, he reached to take Anna’s hand. He frowned as he realized it was even colder than his own. Quite a feat for a warm-blooded woman. “Ready, querida?”
She gave a short laugh. “Are you kidding?”
“Are you as ready as you will ever be?”
She sucked in a deep breath. “As long as you’re at my side.”
He squeezed her fingers. “Forever.”
“Then let’s do this.”
Hand in hand they entered the study. Cezar instinctively sent a searching gaze around the room, noting the French doors set between the desk and long bookcases, and the window near the matching leather chairs. Only when he was confident there were no lurking fairies waiting to leap into the house did he turn his attention to the three vampires peering at something on the far wall.
Viper and Styx were easily recognizable, but it took a moment before he realized he knew the third vampire with his long blond braid and massive body.
Jagr.
“Dios,” he breathed, shoving Anna behind his body as Styx hurriedly joined him near the door. “What’s he doing here?”
“Who is it?” Anna demanded, smacking him in the middle of the back.
“Anna.” Moving around Cezar, Styx offered a small bow of his head. “My wife has prepared dinner for you in the kitchen. She hopes that you will join her there.”
Cezar turned to watch the conflicting emotions that flitted over his mate’s expressive face. On one hand she understood the need to eat and keep up her strength; on the other she didn’t want to be left out of the planning. With a smile he ran the back of his fingers down her cheek.
“You must eat, Anna. We will make no decisions without you.”
Her gaze warned of dire retributions if he didn’t keep his word before she grudgingly turned and headed back out the door.
Cezar couldn’t deny a small flare of relief at her departure. He didn’t want Anna anywhere near Jagr. Hell, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be near Jagr.
Waiting until her slender form had disappeared down the hall, Cezar turned to stab his leader with an annoyed glare. “You haven’t answered my question.”
Styx pointed toward a map that had been pinned to the wall. “He possesses the most detailed maps of Illinois. Viper asked if we could borrow them.”
“And he left his lair to bring them?” His attention returned to the large, feral vampire who was speaking softly with Viper. “Amazing.”
“Not really.” Styx’s smile was cold. “I can be quite persuasive when I issue an invitation.”
Persuasive? More like lethal.
“Are you sure it’s safe?” he growled, still not pleased at having the vampire near Anna.
Styx shrugged. “He is…unstable and fiercely independent, but he knows better than to stir my anger.”
Cezar smiled wryly. “Don’t we all?”
Amusement briefly flickered through the dark golden eyes before the hard, aloof expression returned.
“How is Anna?”
“Scared.”
“I meant, how did she receive the information that you mated her while she was unconscious?”
Cezar shoved a hand through his hair, which he’d left loose after his shower. Anna seemed to like running her fingers through it, and he liked letting her.
“Actually she received it better than I could ever have hoped,” he muttered, still in awe at the memory of her ready acceptance of his bonding. He had spent hours preparing himself for her fury, even hatred. What he hadn’t prepared himself for was her desire to complete the ceremony. Dios. He’d rather have taken a stroll through the sun than to deny her request. “Better than she should have.”
Styx lifted his brows, easily sensing Cezar’s raw flare of pain. “Tell me what troubles you.”
“She desires to complete the ceremony,” he admitted.
The dark eyes narrowed. “Should I offer my congratulations?”
Cezar briefly closed his eyes as his heart clenched with longing. “You were right before. We both know that Anna’s future belongs to the Oracles.”
“Perhaps…”
“No, Styx.” Cezar gave a sharp shake of his head. “I will not allow myself to hope for the impossible.”
Styx gave a small nod of understanding, knowing as well as Cezar that not even the most powerful vampire could fight the will of the Oracles.
Before he could offer his sympathies, Styx was jerking his head toward the door, sensing the approaching vampire servant before the door was pushed open.
Entering the room, DeAngelo bowed low at the sight of his king. “My lord.”
“What is it?”
“An imp is at the door.” The vampire grimaced. “He requested to speak with Conde Cezar.”
Styx gave a hiss of annoyance. “Is it Troy?”
“That is the name he gave.”
“Damn.” Styx struggled against his dislike for the flamboyant imp. “Tell him to join us.”
“He said that he has information that he will…” There was another grimace from DeAngelo. “Sell only to the Conde.”
Styx growled low in his throat. “Troy needs to discover that vampires do not pay for information. I will deal with this.”
“No.” Cezar reached out to grasp Styx’s arm. “If he does have information of Morgana I won’t risk having him frightened away. You remain here and finish completing our plans. I will deal with Prince Troy.”
A forbidding frown marred Styx’s brow. “You should not go alone.”
“You don’t trust the imp?”
“I never trust those with fey blood.” At Cezar’s warning glance, Styx gave a laugh. “With the exception of your beautiful mate, of course.”
“Of course.” Cezar gave an impatient wave of his hand. He wanted to find out the information and then take a quick peek into the kitchen to make sure that Anna was eating as she should be and not brooding about the night ahead. “I think that I can deal with one imp.”
Styx looked as if he wanted to argue, but at Cezar’s stubborn expression he gave a grudging nod.
Wise vampire.
“As you wish.”
Clapping his friend on the shoulder, Cezar allowed DeAngelo to lead him down the hall to the front of the house. Once again he was struck by the homey feel of the place. It had to be Shay’s doing, he acknowledged wryly. Viper possessed an innate flamboyance that had made his various nightclubs a sensation throughout Chicago.
Halting in front of a closed door, the guard offered a bow before silently disappearing into the shadows.
Cezar paused for a moment, startled to discover his legs felt oddly weak. Damn. It had been too long since he’d last fed. Usually he was meticulous about his feedings. Being a pawn for the Oracles meant he never knew when he would be called to battle. Remaining at full strength was key to his survival.
Besides, if he were perfectly honest with himself, he hadn’t wanted to drink the bottled blood. Not after tasting the sweetness of Anna’s vein.
Which was not only foolish, it was dangerous.
For now, Anna was strictly off the menu.
Promising himself he would feed as soon as he was done with the imp, Cezar shoved open the door and stepped into the long, dark room that was nearly overflowing with Viper’s vast collection of books.
He had no time to appreciate the thick leather tomes as he crossed toward the red-haired imp covered in a heavy black cloak, who was hovering near the window as if ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.
Not an uncommon reaction. Most fey were uneasy entering the lair of a vampire, prince of imps or not.
Without bothering with preliminaries, Cezar halted directly before the imp. “You have information?”
A strange smile touched the long, pale face as Troy offered a stiff bow. “Conde.”
Cezar struggled to contain his sorely tested patience. “What is your information?”
Straightening, Troy pressed a hand to his chest, a feverish glitter in his eyes as he studied Cezar with an unnerving intensity.
“First, I must know, did you mate the woman?”
Cezar’s brows snapped together. “What?”
“Did you mate the woman?”
“What the hell business is it of yours?”
“That’s the price for your information. Answer the question.”
Cezar hissed, reminding himself that this imp had helped Anna to flee from Morgana’s assassins. It was the only reason that the creature wasn’t on the floor having the shit beat out of him.
“Yes.”
“Then I have something for you.” Troy took a step closer. “A gift.”
Cezar’s brows snapped together. Goddammit. He’d had enough of this. The imp would reveal his information or he would break the fool’s neck.
“Damn your gift,” he growled. “All I want…”
Moving with an unexpected swiftness, Troy reached out his hand, hidden beneath the folds of his cloak, revealing the silver collar and leash he held in his hands. Cezar attempted to leap backwards, but his utter astonishment, combined with his fading strength, proved to be his undoing.
Stumbling as Troy leapt toward him Cezar managed only one solid blow before he felt the burn of the silver encircling his throat.
“I’m sorry, vampire, but I have no choice,” the imp muttered, his gaze wary as Cezar fell to his knees as the waves of shocking pain raced through him. “This has to end tonight.”