“Did your nasty little pet rock manage to lead you here?” he mocked.

Styx shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“You should be ashamed,” Kostas sneered. “No self-respecting Anasso would need the talents of lesser demons to fulfill his duties. Especially not a stunted gargoyle that has been banned by his own guild. You are a disgrace to vampires.”

Styx flashed his fangs. The savage desire to slash open the bastard’s throat pulsed through him.

It was only the knowledge that he couldn’t afford to destroy the traitor until he was convinced he didn’t have any information that could help to rescue Maluhia that kept him from striking the killing blow.

Then . . . oh then, the bastard was going to become up close and personal with a whole world of hurt.

“You dare to claim that I’ve disgraced myself when you are one who has betrayed your own people?” he accused with frigid disdain. “And for what?” He pointed his sword toward the center of the barren room. “This?”

“You will soon discover.” The dark eyes glittered with a feral hatred. “The child has been delivered and nothing can halt the return of the Dark Lord.”

Styx hissed in pain despite having suspected that Maluhia was in the hands of the evil bitch. Someday very soon he intended to obliterate everyone responsible for the kidnapping. For now, however, he could only try to provoke the traitor into revealing what information he might possess.

“Then shouldn’t you be out celebrating instead of lurking in this filthy basement?” he drawled.

“In good time.”

“Are you sure you haven’t been tossed aside now that you’ve served your purpose?”

Kostas’s grip tightened on the dagger, but he wasn’t stupid enough to try and attack. They both knew that in a fair fight Styx would kick his ass.

“I shall soon have my rewards.”

“When?” Styx continued to prod. “Why the delay?”

“Do you truly believe I would be idiotic enough to reveal the Dark Lord’s plans to you?” the Hunter snarled.

Styx’s scornful laugh filled the room. “No, because you don’t know his—” He stopped with a grimace, silently reminding himself that the Dark Lord was no longer a he. “Her plans. At least no more than any other bottom-feeder might have picked up.”

Kostas puffed out his chest, but Styx sensed his taunting words had hit a nerve. The vampire wasn’t nearly as confident in his new mistress as he wanted Styx to believe.

“A bottom-feeder wouldn’t have been able to steal the babe from beneath your nose.” He deliberately reminded Styx of his failure. “You and those Ravens who think they’re better than the rest of us. Arrogant SOBs.”

The vampire’s jealousy of Styx and his Ravens was a tangible force in the air. Christ, it was no wonder that his festering bitterness had driven him into the service of the Dark Lord. The only surprise was that it took so long.

“But that’s it, isn’t it? You’ve been used and discarded. Not a surprise.” Styx flicked a dismissive gaze down the man’s stiff body, lingering on the weapons before returning to meet the dark, resentful glare. “You have always had an overly bloated opinion of your worth.”

“You know nothing,” the vampire blustered. “The mistress has favored me above all others.”

Styx shook his head as he heard the desperation in the man’s voice. He was wasting his time. This idiot was nothing but another meaningless minion that had believed the promises whispered by the Dark Lord. Pathetic.

“You’re the one who knows nothing,” he growled, lifting his sword. “Which means I have no reason to keep you alive.”

Realizing that Styx had every intention of chopping off his head, Kostas backed up until he hit the corner of the table. “You can’t do this.”

“Actually, I’m pretty sure I can. Do you want me to demonstrate?”

“No.”

Styx smiled with anticipation. “It was more of a rhetorical question.”

With a futile effort to halt his inevitable death, the Hunter vaulted over the table, his gaze lifted heavenward. “Hear me, blessed mistress.”

Styx rolled his eyes. Idiot. “You don’t actually think—”

His mocking words were interrupted as a sizzling heat seared through the room.

With a grunt of surprise, Styx gripped his sword, sensing the approach of something . . . big.

Something big and bad and evil.

Had the bastard actually managed to call the Dark Lord? It would be just his luck that of all the pathetic pleas, the treacherous bitch would choose to hear Kostas. If only to screw with Styx.

He took an instinctive step backward, warily watching the shimmering line that formed directly over the table. The long, thin streak didn’t look like a portal, although he was no expert.

Actually, it looked like the air had been sliced open.

Kostas continued his crazy babble, but Styx kept his attention pinned to the wavering line. Slowly it began to widen, as if the air was being ripped open by a profound power. Gods, was this it? Was this the moment of the Dark Lord’s return?

He briefly considered yelling for Jagr and Jaelyn, only to squash the impulse. What was the point until he could be certain he wasn’t calling them to certain death?

The heat intensified, bringing with it the stench of burned sulfur. Styx shuddered, but he refused to budge another step. The time to run was gone.

He would take a stand and pray for the best.

As if mocking his spurt of bravado, the heat that seared against his skin became laced with electric jolts of pain. As if he was being skewered by unseen lightning.

Holy . . . shit.

He felt like a shish kebab being grilled over an open flame.

The rift spread wider and with a low moan, Kostas fell to his knees. “Mistress, you have heard the pleas of your most loyal servant.”

The stench of burning sulfur thickened, nearly making Styx gag. Kostas, however, had an expression of euphoria as a light spilled through the rip in space to spill over him.

“The sacrifice,” a voice pulsed through the air, nearly driving Styx to his knees.

“What?” Kostas appeared momentarily confused. Then, his puzzled gaze shifted to the fairy who had been wise enough to faint. “Yes, of course.”

Scrambling to his feet, Kostas darted across the room and scooped the limp female in his arms. Styx took a step forward, his first thought to protect the fairy from the evil that blanketed the room. But even as he moved, the blazing light flared toward him, driving him backward.

Blinded, Styx lifted his sword, hearing Kostas cross the room and the sound of the fairy being dumped on the table.

“Here,” the vampire said. “My offering for you.”

Styx’s eyes cleared in time to see a glowing hand reach through the rift to grasp the fairy by her hair, yanking her into the black mist that swirled on the other side of the opening.

“You have served me well, Kostas.” There was a low laugh that sent shards of agony shooting through Styx’s brain. “A pity you shall not survive to appreciate your efforts.”

“No.” Belatedly realizing he was about to be abandoned by his faithless mistress, Kostas leaped onto the table, his hand reaching through the opening. “Wait.”

Styx had only a moment to appreciate the sight of the once-smug vampire’s groveling before the black mist boiled from the rift. In the blink of an eye the darkness was crawling over the screaming Kostas, consuming him on a cellular level.

“Christ.” Styx leaped backward, watching in horror as the powerful vampire became nothing more than a stain on the table.

He half expected the mist to continue pouring into the room, destroying everything in its path. Instead, it retreated back through the opening.

Styx had a brief second of relief. Just enough time to believe he’d dodged a bullet, he wryly conceded as all hell broke loose.

Quite literally.

Even as the black mist receded, Styx caught a glimpse of a crimson-tinted landscape with black, razor-sharp rocks that were dissected by rivers of flowing lava. The opening had shifted from the Dark Lord’s prison to a hell dimension—whether by accident or intent, he didn’t know. All he was certain of was that a creature that looked something like a troll with a large, muscular body covered in a thick, hairless hide and a large head with beady crimson eyes and a snout with protruding fangs was crawling through the opening.

The creature smashed the table, his clenched fists the size of a sledgehammer. And no doubt they would cause as much damage if they happened to be aimed at Styx’s face.

Something he didn’t intend to find out.

“Jagr,” he roared, his feet spread wide and his sword lifted to strike. “Jaelyn.”

Chapter 18

Cassie cursed as the portal that Gaius had created abruptly collapsed, leaving them trapped in the white mist.

Although . . . She frowned, scanning the swirling fog. It didn’t feel as if it were the same white mist. She couldn’t see more than a few inches in front of her face, but the scalding pain from the Dark Lord had faded and the sense of endless space had narrowed to the sensation they were in a long corridor.