GOE 08 - Bound By Darkness [calibre 0.9.30]

His brows snapped together. “What does that mean?”

Jaelyn jabbed him in the side with her elbow, nearly cracking a rib.

“Ariyal.”

“I would prefer to know if someone is going to try and take you away from me,” he growled.

“I have no intention of taking away your mate, Sylvermyst,” Siljar assured him. “But I do reserve the right to call her to service should the need arise.”

“Of course,” Jaelyn hastily answered, as if fearing Ariyal might say something stupid.

Thankfully he was too overwhelmed with relief to say a word.

It was Styx who asked the question running through all their minds.

“Do you see the need arising anytime soon?”

Siljar gave a vague wave of her hands. “Without the prophet it is impossible to say, but we must assume that the Dark Lord will not abandon his attempts to destroy the barriers between worlds.”

With an abrupt motion the King of Weres stepped forward, his expression troubled.

“We can’t forget that in meantime two of my people are being held captive,” he growled.

“Caine and Cassandra have not been forgotten.” Something that might have been frustration touched the Oracle’s face. “Unfortunately we have not yet found a way to reach them.”

Salvatore scowled. “Or anyone willing to try?”

“As you say.” The tiny demon heaved a sigh. “We will not give up.”

Salvatore’s attention shifted from the Oracle to the door, his eyes flashing gold.

“What is that stench?” he muttered; then he growled as he shot Ariyal a disgruntled frown. “You really need to be a bit more discriminating in who you invite into your home.”

Ariyal rolled his eyes as he caught the unmistakable scent of granite. Hell, if he had his way, he wouldn’t let any of them into his house. It was only to please Jaelyn that he’d let the vampire and Were over the threshold.

“My thoughts exactly.”

Grandly indifferent to the fact he was intruding into a private lair, the tiny gargoyle breezed into the room, his wings flapping as he moved to take Jaelyn’s hand and lift it to his lips.

“Bon soir, ma enfant.”

Jaelyn smiled, not nearly as annoyed as she should be by the trespasser.

“Hello, Levet.”

“It was very naughty of you to have a party and not tell me,” he gently chastised, glancing toward Styx and Salvatore, who scowled at him with equal displeasure. “Unless of course my invitation was lost in the mail?”

“Something like that,” Jaelyn hastily assured the ridiculous creature.

“I thought that must be the case. After all ...”

His words trailed away and his tail suddenly stood out straight, making him look as if he’d been hit by lightning. Then slowly he turned, his gaze narrowing at the sight of the tiny demon who had remained in the shadows at the back of the room.

“You,” he breathed, his expression stunned.

Siljar lifted her hand and the demon stepped forward. Ariyal blinked in surprise, belatedly realizing the gargoyle was looking like a lovesick sap at the sight of Yannah.

Jaelyn had mentioned the ridiculous gargoyle was jonesing for the mysterious demon, but this went beyond the hope for a drink at the local bar followed by a quickie.

The poor bastard had it bad.

At any other time he might have been amused.

Now he just wanted them gone.

“Yannah,” Siljar said in the stern voice only a mother could achieve. “Is there something I should know?”

The girl tilted her head in the exactly same manner as her mother.

“Not yet.”

In a besotted daze, Levet moved toward her, his hands held out in pleading.

“Why do you run from me?” Levet demanded, his French accent thicker than usual.

She giggled. “Because I like to be chased.”

“But I have much I want to say to you.”

Yannah leaned forward, landing a kiss squarely on the gargoyle’s mouth, her fingers running a teasing path over his quivering wings. Only when the gargoyle was ready to melt into a puddle at her feet did she pull back, her dark eyes shimmering with amusement.

“Then catch me.”

With a pat on Levet’s cheek the demon disappeared.

Really and truly disappeared.

Like there one second and gone the next.

Blistering French curses filled the air as Levet stomped his way to the door, his wings fluttering in a blur of shimmering color.

“Leaving so soon?” Ariyal demanded.

“Do not fear, I will return,” the gargoyle promised, leaving the house in obvious pursuit of Yannah.

Ariyal wrinkled his nose. “That’s my fear.”

Seemingly indifferent to her daughter’s peculiar taste in demons, Siljar pressed her hands together.

“I must leave as well.” She allowed her gaze to sweep the room. “But know this. The days of evil are not ended. The Dark Lord remains a constant threat, as well as his minions, who grow in number with every passing day. We must be prepared.”

Her warning was still echoing through the air when she vanished into thin air.

“Cheery,” Salvatore said with a shiver.