Fear the Darkness

“Yes, they should be arriving within a few hours.”



His jaw tightened as he glowered at the back of her head. “You still claim to know nothing about them?”



“I know as much as you do.”



“So you say.”



She flinched as his icy power lashed through the air, but hunching her shoulders, she halted in front of a heavy door and pointed at the small window that revealed the metal-lined cell inside.



“The woman is in there.” She waited for Gaius to move to peer through the window. “Is she satisfactory?”



Gaius hissed as his fangs lengthened in primitive hunger. The slender female chained to the wall possessed the long, dark hair that he’d demanded as well as the golden skin and dark, almond eyes that spoke of the Middle East.



She wasn’t an exact match for his beloved Dara, of course.



Her features weren’t nearly so delicately carved and her body was covered by a pair of cutoff shorts and a tiny halter top that his mate would have considered tacky, but she was close enough to stir the lusts that he’d nearly forgotten on the other side.



“Yes, she is . . . satisfactory,” he admitted, his mouth watering as his gaze traced the line of throat. “Where did you find her?”



Sally shrugged. “Where you find everything. The Internet. Lucky for you she makes house calls.” She grasped his wrist as Gaius’s hand reached for the doorknob. “Not yet.”



Gaius tensed, poised and ready to strike. “Remove your hand, witch.”



Hastily, the female snatched back her hand, sensing death in the air. But she stubbornly refused to back down.



“First the ceremony and then the girl,” she said.



Gaius offered her an icy glare. “You aren’t foolish enough to believe you are in a position to give me orders?”



There was a sudden crimson fire in the witch’s dark eyes and a warning heat that sizzled through the air.



“The order doesn’t come from me.”



Gaius shuddered. Cristo. He didn’t know what was worse. His fear of being at the mercy of the witch’s spell or the heavy weight of the Dark Lord’s smothering powers.



“Fine,” he snapped. “Let us be done with this ridiculous ceremony.”



Sally nodded her head toward the end of the hallway. “I have prepared the room.”



Still twitchy, Gaius followed the witch into the large room, his gaze landing on the thick line of salt poured into a circle in the center of the wood floor.



“Wait.” He turned to regard Sally with a deep scowl. “Explain precisely what you intend to do to me.”



She heaved a resigned sigh. “Again?”



He bared his fangs. “You’ve been remarkably unwilling to reveal the details.”



Her eyes widened before she attempted to hide her fear behind a mask of bravado. “With the master’s assistance I will conjure a spell that will remove your . . . scent.”



“Why?”



“It will not only protect you from being tracked by your enemies, but as a shape-shifter you will be capable of becoming whomever or whatever you want to be without giving away your true identity.”



She tried to make it sound oh so simple. Just a flick of her hand and, abracadabra, his scent was gone.



But nothing was ever simple.



For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.. . .



Especially when it came to magic.



There would be a cost that he was far from certain he wanted to pay.



“I can accomplish the same goal with a disguise amulet,” he pointed out in cutting tones.



“Yes, well, this spell will strip you a little . . .”



“What?”



“Deeper.”



“Deeper?”



“It will remove more than just your scent.”



Gaius narrowed his gaze. “You mean it will take away my very identity.”



“Only on a physical level.”



Her casual dismissal made his hands clench. It was that or wrapping them around her neck and crushing the life from her.



“And if I choose not to be”—he curled his lip in derision—“stripped?”



“That’s something you need to discuss with the master.”



Damn the witch. She had him backed in a literal corner and she knew it.



“Cristo,” he growled, moving to stand in the center of the corner. “Just be done with it.”



Sally ignored his command, moving around the room to light the wax candles with a solemn expression. Next she laid several long feathers in a bowl and set them on fire, filling the air with a cloud of smoke.



Then, once satisfied she’d performed the proper ritual, she slipped on a heavy black robe and shifted to stand directly in front of him.



Gaius made a sound of disgust, unimpressed by the elaborate ceremony. “Is this going to take all night?”



She lifted her hands, a slow smile curling her lips. “You might want to brace yourself.”



That was the only warning before the spell slammed into him, sending him to his knees. Gods. He bent his head, quivering as the pain ravaged through him.



It felt as if he were being seared from the inside out.



As if the damned witch had ignited a bonfire in the pit of his stomach that was burning its way out of his body.



He groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as he battled back the howls of misery.



The bitch was doing this on purpose, he savagely told himself. She had him at her mercy and was obviously intent on making the most of her brief moment of power.



There was another wave of blazing pain and the sense of his very . . . what? His essence? Yes, his essence, being yanked from deep inside him.



He bent down until his forehead was pressed to the wood planks of the floor. This was no simple spell. This was a soul-deep invasion that was threatening to destroy him.



A sudden fear crawled down his spine as he recalled Sally’s reference to the Dark Lord assisting her with the spell. Had the master decided to put an end to his faithful servant? It wouldn’t be the first time the evil bastard had killed one of his minions for the sheer pleasure of watching him die.



Then, as quickly as the ruthless pain had struck, it was gone.



Slowly coming back to his senses, Gaius remained kneeling for a long moment. It was shameful enough that the witch had seen him collapse like a spineless sprite beneath her spell. He wasn’t going to make it worse by trying to rise to his feet before he was certain he wouldn’t end up planting his face into the floor.



When at last he was confident he could stand without embarrassing himself, Gaius flowed to his feet, glaring at the witch.



“You . . . whore,” he growled, his hand pressing to his unbeating heart. “Did you take my soul?”



She paled as the candles flared, then were snuffed out by his icy fury, but grimly held her ground. “You sold that a long time ago, Commander.”



Well, wasn’t that the god-awful truth?



He shrugged off the dark thought. What was done, was done. There was no going back now.



Instead, he pointed a finger toward the witch, his powers lashing against her with enough force to pin her against the wall.



“Tell me what you did to me.”



She licked her lips, the scent of her fear teasing at his senses.



“I . . .”



He took a threatening step closer. “Tell me.”



“I removed your existence,” she hastily babbled.



Gaius barely resisted the ridiculous urge to glance down and make sure he hadn’t simply vanished.



“Explain.”



She lifted her hands in a pleading motion. “I don’t know how.”



“Try,” he snapped. “Try very, very hard.”



“The spell is designed to purge your identity,” she haltingly attempted to clarify. “You have no scent, no . . . presence. Others will know that you’re near, but unless they’re an extremely powerful demon they won’t be able to detect anything about you. Not even the fact you’re a vampire.”



It was exactly what he expected. So why did he feel as if he’d just been raped? He hissed, wishing he could at least have the satisfaction of killing the witch responsible for his sudden sense of loss.



“Gods.”



Easily sensing his desire for death, Sally inched her way along the wall. At last she reached the door and, never allowing her wary gaze to leave his grim expression, she shoved it open. “Go to your female,” she husked. “She’ll make you all better.”



His fury was abruptly forgotten.



Dara.



No. He gave a shake of his head. Not Dara. But a female who would ease his most pressing hungers. Surely he would feel better once he’d taken care of his needs?



Strolling toward the door, he paused long enough to whisper in Sally’s ear. “Someday soon, witch,” he warned.



He had the pleasure of watching her turn a sickly shade of gray before he was headed back down the hall and entering the lead-lined cell. Closing the door behind him, Gaius halted to savor the moment.



Was there anything sweeter than the rich scent of warm, female blood? Or the sight of his prey struggling in helpless terror?



A smile curved his lips as the female strained against the shackles chaining her to the wall. She turned her head from side to side, able to hear his arrival although the room was too dark for her human eyes to see him.