The attic of the farmhouse was a filthy, cramped place that was barely fit for pathetic humans, let alone a powerful queen.
It was, however, a perfect location to keep an unconscious vampire hostage.
Ignoring the thick dust that marred the hem of her gossamer gown, Morgana studied the demon who hung from the rafters by the silver leash.
His rich, dark hair was disheveled to tumble around the elegant lines of his beautiful face, and since she had commanded Troy to strip him of his shirt, there was nothing to hide the chiseled perfection of his bronzed chest.
She could understand Anna Randal’s fascination with the creature.
All vampires possessed a potent sensual appeal. They were predators who used sex to lure their prey. But this vampire…
He was perfectly formed to pleasure women.
And pleasure them well.
It was almost a pity she was going to have to kill him.
Shifting her attention from the unconscious vampire to the tall imp with his crimson mane of hair and wary expression, she allowed a cold smile to touch her lips.
“You have done well, Troy.”
Kneeling, the imp lowered his head. “Thank you, my Queen. I live to serve.”
Morgana’s lips twisted as she moved forward to capture Troy’s chin in a brutal grip. Yanking up his head she savored the stark fear that flared through the emerald eyes.
“Or you serve to live, eh my little traitor?”
“I have brought you the vampire,” the imp rasped. “Surely I have proven my loyalty?”
Her anger whipped through the cramped space. She would not forget the imp’s treachery. Anna might very well be dead now if the arrogant bastard hadn’t whisked her away from the nightclub. But, she was wise enough to realize that for the moment Troy was a tool she could use to her advantage. He was the only one who could get into the vampire’s lair. And now that she had so kindly reminded him of the pain she could inflict, he was the one creature she could be assured wouldn’t disappoint her again.
Once she had finished this unpleasant business, she would consider whether to continue with the fun of tormenting him, or simply kill him and be done with it.
“I will decide when you’ve proven your loyalty, worm,” she purred.
The imp shivered, but he never allowed his gaze to waver. Troy, Prince of Imps, possessed the sort of courage that was far too rare among the fey. Perhaps she should think about having his sperm frozen before killing him. With the right training his offspring might make suitable soldiers.
“Yes, my Queen,” he murmured, his tone suitably respectful.
Releasing her hold on his chin, Morgana turned so she could study the beautiful vampire.
“You are certain he is secured?” she demanded.
“Of course.” Rising warily to his feet, Troy pointed to the heavy collar around Cezar’s neck. “The silver will keep him incapacitated so long as it touches his skin.”
“And the fairies are in place?”
“They are hidden and await your word to slay the intruders.”
Morgana closed her eyes as she allowed her senses to flow outward. “They are near. I can smell the stench of my brother’s blood.”
“Then I should go and make sure…”
Stepping to block the imp’s hasty departure, Morgana pressed a finger to his chest, a smile twisting her lips as the imp screamed in pain.
“Oh no, Troy, I want you well away from my back while I’m finishing this unpleasant task,” she drawled, flooding his body with a searing heat. “But know this—if you even try to slip away from me I’ll rip your heart from your chest and eat it for dinner.” She leaned close enough that their lips were touching in the mockery of a kiss. “Do we understand one another?”
Troy’s ragged breath filled the room. “Perfectly.”
“Good.” Moving back, Morgana reached to grasp one of the numerous stakes that she had lined up on a decrepit chair. “Take this stake and place it against his heart. If he so much as twitches I want to know.”
Still shaking with pain, the imp took the stake and pressed it against the vampire’s chest.
“As you command, my Queen.”
Confident that her trap was suitably baited and ready to snap shut on her prey, Morgana smoothed her hands over her glorious mane of hair and turned to make her way down the narrow flight of stairs.
Throughout the house, she could sense the fairies hidden among the shadows, all of them poised to protect her the moment she commanded. They might not love her, but they knew better than to fail her.
Unlike her ridiculous brother she understood the power of fear. Why would she waste her time groveling for the loyalty of her subjects when she could demand it instead?
At last reaching the ground floor, Morgana closed her eyes and reached out with her thoughts. She frowned as she sensed the various demons that were attempting to surround the farmhouse.
Vampires, of course. Those she had expected. But there was also a werewolf and a Shalott. Both rare creatures who were as dangerous as vampires in their own right.
No matter. She deliberately smoothed away the frown and dismissed the demons from her mind. They were clearly allies of the vampires. So long as she held Conde Cezar they wouldn’t dare to harm her.
Just as Anna Randal wouldn’t dare to harm her.
A faintly smug smile touched her lips as she felt her vulnerable young niece hesitate just outside the door.
At last.
After centuries of hiding in the mists and stalking her prey from the shadows, she was about to bring an end to her brother’s line.
And then she would be free.
Free to rule as she had been meant to rule.
Reaching out her hand, she used her powers to wrench the door open, her smile widening at the faint gasp of surprise from the slender, honey-haired woman.
“Ah…my beautiful niece,” she mocked. “Welcome to my home.”
Something that might have been fear rippled over the delicate features before Anna Randal was squaring her shoulders and stepping over the threshold, closely shadowed by two powerful vampires.
Morgana briefly allowed her gaze to flick over the large, blond vampire. His icy fury filled the air with a dark hint of violence. A dangerous demon on the edge, but for the moment leashed by his fierce control. At his side the tall, dark Aztec was rigid with grim determination, his immense power coiled and ready to strike.
Morgana felt a tiny flare of surprise as she recognized that power. The Anasso, King of Vampires.
Obviously Conde Cezar had friends in high places.
The knowledge might have been unnerving if she didn’t have the vampire chained upstairs with a stake to his heart.
Vampires were as ridiculously loyal as her brother had once been. They would readily give their lives for another.
Saps.
As if sensing her smug amusement, Anna Randal moved to stand directly before her, the hazel eyes flashing with anger.
“Where is he?”
Morgana flicked a brow upward at the sharp tone. “I know for certain you weren’t raised by trolls, my sweet. Where are your manners?”
Anna’s mouth fell open, as if outraged by Morgana’s chastisement. “You slaughtered my family, stalked me like a psychopath, sent your minions to kill me, and kidnapped the man I love, and you want to lecture me on manners? That might be funny if it weren’t so pathetic.”
It was Morgana’s turn to be shocked. No one spoke to her in such a manner.
No one.
“Pathetic? You loathsome little pest. I am your queen and you will give me the respect that I deserve,” she hissed, stepping forward. She was going to teach the bitch to grovel before she killed her. “You will be on your knees when you speak to me.”
Her hand reached out, but before she could grab Anna’s hair and force her to her knees, the tip of a cold, steel blade pressed to her neck.
“Not a step closer,” the dark vampire hissed, his eyes hard with warning.
Her hands clenched as she shifted her furious gaze to glare at the demon who dared to threaten her.
“Do you think I fear you, vampire?” she hissed.
“You should.”
“Children.” At her sharp command there was a rustle of sound as her fairies appeared from the shadows, their weapons lifted and pointed toward the intruders. “Each bow holds a wooden arrow. Not all of them will miss.”
The vampire didn’t even blink. “Perhaps not, but I’m betting I can cut off your head before one finally hits my heart.”
There was another prick at her neck as the hulking blond vampire pressed his own sword to her neck.
“And if he doesn’t, I will,” he growled.
“Do you want to call my bluff?” the dark vampire demanded.
Morgana curled her lip at the display of testosterone. Men were always so eager to use brute force when cunning was more efficient.
Her foolish brother had been the same.
“I believe that my bluff is greater than your own,” she drawled. “Unless the rumors of clan loyalty are grossly exaggerated. Your…brother is upstairs with a stake to his heart. One call from me and Conde Cezar is dust.”
Anna’s face paled as she reached out a hand to touch the vampire. “Styx. Jagr.”
With a low growl the vampires lowered their swords, the king narrowing his gaze with a lethal hatred.
“What do you want?”
“What do I want?” Morgana laughed. “Everything, vampire. Everything that is owed to me.”
“The only thing owed to you is a slow, painful death, Morgana,” the vampire said coldly.
With a hiss, Morgana sent out her powers, throwing the vampire against the wall and pinning him there.
“It is Your Majesty to you,” she hissed, increasing the pressure until the large body was bowed and writhing in pain.
“Morgana, stop it,” Anna demanded, stepping between her and the vampire. The scent of figs spiced the air before Morgana was hit with a sharp, painful blast of heat. “I said…stop it,” Anna gritted.
Her own power momentarily faltered, allowing the vampire to swiftly return to his protective position at Anna’s side.
Morgana hid her unpleasant shock at the realization that the woman was capable of hurting her. Damn Arthur. Would her brother’s potent blood never die? It should have been thinned to the point of nonexistence by now, but there was no mistaking the ease with which she had disrupted Morgana’s own magic.
“Careful, Anna,” she snapped. “Another stunt like that and your lover will be waiting for you in hell.”
The woman tilted her chin, as if she didn’t realize that Morgana could kill her with one blow.
“You obviously kidnapped Cezar to bring me here. I’m here now. Why don’t you let Cezar and the others go?”
Morgana gave a sharp laugh. “Have I ever given you the least hint that I am stupid, Anna?” she mocked. “The vamps, as well as that werewolf and Shalott creeping around outside, stay to make sure you play nice.”
“And what does play nice mean?” she demanded. “That I just stand here and let you kill me?”
Morgana slowly smiled. “Actually…yes. That’s exactly what I mean.”
The dark vampire growled deep in his throat. “Anna, don’t even think about it. This is not what Cezar would want.”
Morgana reached out to stroke a finger down Anna’s soft cheek, her nail cutting a thin wound.
“Ah, but sweet Anna is willing to do anything, even sacrifice herself, to save her beloved, are you not?”
Anna jerked her head back, her hand lifting to wipe away the trail of blood.
“You know, Morgana, my grandfather warned me that you are an evil woman—I’m beginning to understand why he hated you so much.”
A sharp chill pierced Morgana’s heart. “What did you say?”
“Oh, didn’t I mention my little visit with your brother?” Anna demanded sweetly.
“That’s impossible.”
“Why? Because you killed him?”
Morgana lifted her hand to strike the bitch where she stood. She had to be lying. Arthur was dead. Dead and buried. But her hand froze as she caught the sound of stirring fairies behind her.
She had been very careful to cultivate the legend that Arthur had died in battle once she realized that she was incapable of tarnishing the people’s love for him. It was disgusting, the manner that they had worshipped the weak, stupid man.
To admit that she had been the cause of his death would cause nothing short of a mutiny.
She allowed her hand to continue forward, but rather than landing the lethal blow she longed to deliver, Morgana instead grasped Anna’s arm in a biting grip.
“We will finish this in private,” she rasped.
“Private?” The bitch had the nerve to meet her furious gaze without fear. “Do you have something to hide, Morgana? Don’t your sycophants know what you did to your own brother?”
Morgana tightened her grip until the bone threatened to shatter. “Shut up.”
The two vampires flowed forward, their swords lifted to strike. It was only Anna’s sharp shake of her head that halted them.
“No, Styx. This is between me and my aunt.” With an ease that should never have been possible, the honey-haired woman pulled from Morgana’s grasp and regarded her with a hard expression. “You want private? That’s fine with me.”
In disbelief, Morgana watched as her niece walked calmly across the room and entered the dingy kitchen, her head held high and her back stiff. With no option, Morgana was forced to follow behind her, her fury a potent force that filled the house with a rush of prickling heat.
Once away from prying eyes, Morgana reached out to jerk Anna around to face her, her anger overcoming any fear of the woman’s mysterious power.
“You worthless brat.” She gave Anna a sharp shake, sadistically pleased when she felt the woman shudder in pain. “Do not ever turn your back to me. I am your queen.”
Again Anna managed to wrestle from her grip, but not before Morgana had managed to leave a savage burn on her arm.
“You’re a homicidal maniac,” Anna hissed, lifting a hand to cover her ugly wound. “It’s no wonder that your brother refuses to rest in his grave until you’re dead.”
With a sudden gesture Morgana sent Anna slamming into the wall. She was done screwing around. She wanted this woman dead. And she wanted her dead now.
“You know nothing of my brother,” she mocked, her confidence returning as Anna swayed and leaned against the wall to keep her balance. Anna Randal might have the blood of ancients in her veins, but she was still a weak, easily shattered human. “This is nothing but a desperate trick to try to save your pathetic life.”
Stiffening her knees, Anna reached in her pocket. Morgana smiled as she calmly smoothed the gossamer of her gown. If the stupid creature thought she could reveal some hidden weapon and frighten a powerful queen, she was about to learn a painful lesson.
“Really, then where do you suppose I got this?” Anna demanded, holding out her hand to reveal the perfect emerald glimmering against her palm.
Expecting a hexed knife, or even one of those charmed amulets that witches loved to flash around, Morgana’s smug assurance cracked and shattered as she caught sight of the emerald that had once graced her brother’s golden crown.
No. No, it couldn’t be.
That gem had been buried with her brother, and despite her best efforts over the centuries to attempt to retrieve the powerful emerald, she had been continually blocked by Merlin’s last and most potent spell.
Damn the wizard to hell.
If he hadn’t managed to disappear Morgana would have dragged him to Avalon and devoted the centuries to teaching the bastard the true meaning of pain.
A tremor raced through her body as the energy of the jewel surged over her skin.
“How…?”
As if taking courage from the emerald, Anna tilted her chin and stepped away from the wall.
“My grandfather gave it to me. He seemed to think that it might help me destroy you.” She clenched her fingers around the stone. “What do you think? Shall, we give it a whirl?”
Morgana instinctively backed away. Until the spell was broken upon it, the emerald would respond only to her brother.
Or, obviously, to one of his blood.
“This is not…not possible.”
Anna’s lips twisted. “Over the past few days I’ve discovered that there are very few things that are impossible.”
“He’s dead,” Morgana said, as much to convince herself as the annoying pest standing before her. “I watched him die.”
“You betrayed him.”
Morgana’s lips curled at the accusation. Of course she had betrayed her brother. She was above the tedious morals that plagued the lesser beings. All that mattered was that she survived and that the world would bow before her.
“Arthur was a fool,” she sneered, thrusting aside her brief unease. With or without the emerald, she still held the upper hand. So long as the vampire was chained in the attic this woman would do nothing. Nothing but die. “With me at his side he possessed the power to rule the world. No one could have challenged us. No one would have dared.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to rule the world,” Anna countered.
Morgana laughed. Typical. There seemed to be some innate flaw in her brother’s blood. An inability to see past the mundane humanity to the glory that was their birthright.
Fate had intended them to be above mortals. Above demons. Above all.
And yet, Arthur insisted on playing the role of the benevolent ruler, always determined to see that his shining vision of justice prevailed.
So weak. So ripe to fall into the hands of his enemies.
She had done him a favor by putting an end to his pathetic dreams.
If she hadn’t, someone else would have.
“You rule or you follow or you die,” she said coldly. “There are no other choices.”
“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.”