GOE 08 - Bound By Darkness [calibre 0.9.30]

“You think?”

She flowed with blinding speed behind him, her claws raking deep wounds through his robes and into the flesh of his back.

“Bitch,” he snapped, barely seeming to notice the nasty gray sludge that oozed down his back. “This is my favorite robe.”

“Surely you must know that all vampires like to play with their prey before striking the killing blow?” she taunted.

He muttered a low word, and Jaelyn suddenly felt bands of air wrapping around her, holding her prisoner as surely as if they’d been made of steel.

“An odd way to play,” Rafael rasped, moving forward to wrap his fingers around her neck. “Unless you enjoy pain?”

Oh ... shit.

This wasn’t going nearly as well as she’d hoped.

Actually, she was pretty sure that it couldn’t be going any worse.

“Even if you defeat me the vampires are gathered to halt you,” she ground out. “They will destroy the child rather than allow the return of the Dark Lord.”

“You mean that child?” With a smile the wizard glanced to the side, clearly capable of parting the mists with a mere thought. Not that she had time to admire his talent. Instead her last hope died as she caught sight of the baby nestled in the fog, its eyes wide open and watching her with an unnerving awareness. “If they stand in the Dark Lord’s path they will be destroyed,” he assured her, his nails digging in to her throat. “Just as you will be.”

A small voice in the back of her mind urged her to keep her mouth shut. It didn’t take a genius to know that her death would be a lot less painful if she didn’t keep provoking the wizard.

It was a voice that was easy to squash, along with any common sense.

“You truly believe your master will be strong enough to battle a half-dozen vampires and a pack of Weres?” she scorned his cocky confidence.

“He will once I have offered him the blood he needs.” The crimson eyes flared with a disturbing hunger. “Your blood.” His smile widened. “And then the Sylvermyst.”

Fury boiled through her, searing away the fear that was clouding her mind.

At the same time she became sharply aware of her connection to Ariyal.

He had been in the back of her mind, a bundle of fury and regret. But, as if the mention of him suddenly brought him into focus, she was conscious of the sensation of pain, as if he’d just taken a vicious blow to the shoulder. And then, an overwhelming grief that brought tears to her eyes.

Dear gods ... Ariyal.

The intensity of her sorrow was so deep that for a hideous second she actually thought she was mourning the loss of her mate. Then as the sense of him remained firmly settled in her heart, she at last realized that it was Ariyal who was consumed by his feelings of brutal sadness.

Relief blazed through her, nearly drowning out the more subtle changes that swelled through the fog.

In fact she almost missed the sensation of emptiness as Tearloch’s soul slipped away, and the iron tang of blood that scented the air.

Human blood.

Momentarily confused, her gaze searched the mists for some sign of the intruder. It didn’t make sense. How could a human manage to cross the magical boundary between dimensions?

At last, she accepted there were no unpleasant surprises creeping through the fog and returned her attention to the wizard. Only then did she catch sight of the red stains that marred the sleeve of his robe.

Red?

As in blood?

Mortal blood?

She dismissed the pain from her injuries as she rapidly sorted through the various explanations for the odd transformation from gray goo that had been leaking from the wizard’s wounds to plain, old-fashioned blood.

At last she accepted that it had to be connected to Tearloch’s passing.

Somehow his death had made the wizard mortal.

At least in this moment.

A slow smile of anticipation curled her lips. “You will never get your filthy hands on my mate,” she warned in frigid tones. “Never.”

His eyes, which were now a pale shade of blue, flickered with unease, although the creature didn’t seem to realize what had happened.

Or how vulnerable he’d become.

“Such brave words for a woman about to die,” he rasped.

With a covert movement she shifted her hand to grasp the smooth stock of her gun, her finger resting on the trigger.

“Don’t be so certain.”

“But I am.”

His whispering beneath his breath reminded her that even if he were temporarily mortal, he was still a powerful mage who could turn her into something nasty.

Or worse.

She had been given a miracle; she wasn’t about to waste it.

“And I’m about to prove the mystic reputation of Hunters hasn’t been exaggerated,” she informed him, lifting her hand to press the muzzle of the gun against his temple.

Then, before he could react, she pulled the trigger.

At the last minute he managed to jerk to the side, but the bullet still managed to rip through his skull, sending a spray of blood and gore flying through the mist.

His hand released its hold on Jaelyn as he fell to his knees, his face unrecognizable. But even as she felt his life draining away he reached out to grasp her leg, his touch causing an agonizing pain to jolt though her body.