Stephanie Rowe - Darkness Unleashed Read online

  She knew there was no way the others would have pulled weapons on him if he hadn't given them permission. It had been a setup to bait her, clear and simple. Granted, she knew it was true that Zach and Thano were suffering from talrak poison. That much was obvious. And the rest of the exchange? Zach's hostility had been genuine, but she'd sensed a bond between the mounted warrior and Ryland. Something she didn't quite understand, but it had definitely been there.

  Ryland was danger and death, but he was also something else, something deeper that had been the bridge that had connected him to the mounted warrior. It wasn't warmth. It wasn't a purity of spirit. But there was something…

  No. She couldn't try to find goodness in him. She had to remember that he was the enemy. He was hunting her. He carried death. How, she didn't know. She'd never met anyone like him before. It was fascinating and terrifying at the same time. He'd threatened to take her back to his home, to the Order of the Blade, a thought that made chills of terror race down her spine. If he took her, she would never get to Lucy. She would be trapped, and, dear God, she couldn't be trapped again.

  But at the same time, when he'd uttered those words, that promise to keep her safe, she'd felt like her entire world had come crashing to a halt, as if her heart had suddenly begun beating for the first time in her life. He'd sounded so genuine, a man who would lay down his life for her. The promise had been so beautiful, so intense, that she'd wanted to leap out of the shadows and beg for his help.

  But she knew too much to fall for that again. She was not the naive fool she had once been. There was no way she was turning herself over to a man who wanted to kidnap her. But even as she thought that, his tormented black eyes drifted through her mind, and her heart ached for the anguish she'd seen in their depths. She wanted to know more about him, and at the same time, she wanted to run away from him as fast as possible.

  Her fingers tingled and she rubbed them together, recalling what it had felt like to touch him. Why had she done that? He could so easily have spun around and grabbed her before she could have gotten out of the way. But when she'd seen him standing so close, his shoulders bunched as if he was carrying a thousand burdens in those powerful muscles, she'd been compelled to touch him, to see what she could learn about him.

  His coat had been well-worn, laden with stories of the battles he'd been in. So much death surrounded that man. It had caressed her, chasing away her fear and drawing her in. For a brief moment, she'd been lost in his presence, drawn into the aura that was so familiar to her. And when she'd touched his skin...she shivered at the memory. His skin had been so warm, warmer than a man shrouded in death should be. At the same time, it had been velvet soft, as if beneath the rough exterior was a tapestry spun of the softest silk, a thousand colors woven into one rich story of such suffering, torment, and bravery.

  When she'd touched him, the gnawing hunger inside her had quieted, almost as if he'd offered her sunlight. She had no idea what had happened, but she now had enough control that she could risk being around people for a little longer, even though it was dark out. Yes, she couldn't take the chance of going to sleep and surrendering herself to the night, but awake would be okay. What had that touch between them done? Would it happen again, or had it been a one-time thing?

  Not that she would try. He was too dangerous…and too compelling.

  Ryland shouted in the distance, jerking her attention back to the present. Dear God, how had she let herself get distracted by him? She knew better than to think of a man as anything but a threat. God, she knew better.

  Wearily, she rubbed her temples, staring in the direction the men had gone. If she had a brain, she'd do as they claimed they were doing, and avoid the village. But how could she do that?

  The stone from the map was gone. Her map would be useless if she couldn't find her way to the next mark, a pyre of fire and smoke. Without the stone, she had no idea which way to go.

  People who'd lived in the area for generations might know the land well enough to help her. Someone in that town might have the answers she needed. She had no choice.

  With a sigh of exhaustion and desperate hope, Catherine slung her backpack over her shoulders and walked out of the graveyard to where Ryland and his team had last been. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Dancing on the air were stories of death. Ryland's stories. His legacy that touched the very core of who she was.

  Ryland knew exactly where that village was, and he was going there to save his team. Which meant she had to follow him.

  Fisting the straps of her backpack, Catherine began to walk in the direction Ryland had gone, tracking him the same way he'd tracked her: through the fragments of death he left behind. She knew he wouldn't be lying in wait for her. His concern for his team was evident, and he would not stop until he had them safe. But once he did...she shuddered. He would never deviate in his ruthless quest to find her until he had succeeded.

  That meant her only option was to get to the village, get answers, and get out before he was free to pursue her.

  Sweat trickled down her temple despite the cold air, sweat that had nothing to do with heat and everything to do with her nervousness about putting herself so close to the man who'd been hunting her, the man who seemed to call to her so desperately that she'd almost given up her camouflage because she'd needed to touch him so badly.

  She let out a deep breath and touched the silver locket she'd fastened around her throat while she'd been watching the men try to bait her. The cool metal acted as a constant reminder of what was at stake if she lost control or failed in her quest. Ryland might be a threat she didn't fully understand, but by telling her about the village he'd also given her a clue that directed her toward another chance to find her daughter.

  For that, she owed him.

  Maybe she would send him a thank you note.

  Laughing softly, she released the charm and broke into a loping run, knowing that the clock was ticking with each passing moment: the clock that had Ryland distracted by his team, and the clock that gave her daughter life.

  "Come on, Catherine. You've got to get this right. Lucy's counting on you." Then there was no time for talking. There was only time for running as if the devil himself was on her tail.

  Which, she had a feeling, wasn't that far from the truth.

  Chapter Four

  The town smelled the same as it had a thousand years ago. Ryland was shocked by the scents that assaulted him as he led his team around the outskirts of the village, amazed at how familiar they all were, as if he'd been there yesterday. He'd shut the town from his memory until today, and he couldn't have recalled a single scent of the area even to save his own life. Now that he was here, however, everything seemed to be coming back, flooding his senses. He remembered the hill to the south. The small spring on the north side. The well in the village center.

  He inhaled deeply, letting the reminiscent odors of those first memorable breaths drift through him. How could a town smell the same after a thousand years? But it did. It smelled of cow manure and pig slop, of freshly cut hay and day-old fish, of thatched roofs and slow-cooking meat.

  The scent was as beautiful as it had been before, maybe even more so. Because it was the scent of freedom.

  "Where is everyone?" Thano asked quietly, his voice strained. "It's not that late."

  "Most people don't venture out in the darkness," Ryland said. "Not around here."

  "Talraks?"

  "And others." Ryland reached back into the memories ingrained in his mind, trying to remember which way to go. The roads felt different, beaten down by cars and tainted by exhaust, but the layout was the same. "Right here." He ducked between two buildings and made his way down a narrow passageway, urgency compelling him onward. He slipped between two more slumped wooden buildings, then down a narrow staircase to a door so small that it looked like it was built for a child, not a man.

  Adrenaline pushed through him. "It's still here." He knocked on the door as Thano reined in Apollo at the top
of the stairs. Two quick knocks, just as Dante had done so many centuries before.

  There was no response, and Ryland counted silently. Three. Two. One. Then he knocked again, two quick raps. "By Dante's grace," he said softly, referencing the one who had showed him the way, just as Dante had recited another's name so long ago.

  This time, the door swung open with a loud creak, as if the hinges hadn't been asked to twist in a hundred years. Beyond the door was darkness, an impenetrable cavern of mystery. Ryland had no memory of what had happened within those walls, which Dante had said was the way it always was. It was the only way to safeguard whatever it was that lay within. "I have friends," he said into the abyss. "They were attacked by talraks. They're almost out of time. I need you to save them."

  There was no response from within the room, no sound except for the swish of Apollo's tail.

  Ry? What's up? Thano's voice touched his mind. We don't have time for this crap.

  Ryland glanced over his shoulder and swore when he saw an orange glow emanating from beneath Zach's eyelashes, his eyes closed now as death began to take him. Adrenaline rushed through him and he whirled back toward the room. "I need help now," he shouted. "These are Dante's men! Help them!"

  "Ryland Samuels." The voice was gravelly and rough, just as he remembered it when it had spoken to Dante. The voice was so powerful that Ryland had to fight not to drop to his knees and genuflect. "You were warned not to return, were you not?"

  Jesus. Like he had time for that shit. "My friends are dying! Help them!" He turned. "Thano! Get down here!"

  Thano immediately spun Apollo to the top of the stairs, and somehow the enormous animal managed to ease down the staircase that was too narrow for him, as if the very building itself had stretched to accommodate him.

  Ryland knew he couldn't cross the threshold, but he gestured to Thano. "Go in. He's waiting for you." Dear Jesus, he hoped he was.

  Thano peered into the darkness. "You're sure?"

  Ryland stayed his hand as Thano began to call out his weapon. "Go unarmed. Just go!"

  Zach coughed, a hack that turned into a low groan. Thano met his gaze, and Ryland saw the moment the younger warrior decided to trust him. He urged Apollo forward, and the horse leapt through the doorway that was ten times too small for him and yet had granted him access.

  As they disappeared into the darkness, Ryland tensed. His brands burned with the need to arm himself, to leap in there and defend his team. Ten seconds passed and they didn't reappear. Then twenty. Then thirty.

  When a full minute had passed, Ryland knew they'd been accepted for treatment. "Jesus." He slumped back against the wall, suddenly drained. Zach had made it there with seconds to spare. Son of a bitch. He'd done it. His team would live. Dante's legacy would live to see another day, at least for now.

  For a long moment, he didn't move, recalling too clearly that day when Dante had delivered him to that same door. That day when everything had changed. No way would he betray what Dante had given him. No way would he fail to be the man Dante had believed he could be.

  Thano and Zach were safe for now, and they wouldn't be released for a few hours.

  Which meant it was time for hunting an angel of death.

  Ryland leapt up the stairs and took a deep breath, inhaling the stillness of the night.

  He caught Catherine's scent almost immediately and smiled, realizing that she had followed their lead and come to the village.

  She'd delivered herself right into his hands. The chase would soon be over. He would have her, and Dante's legacy would be sealed forever.

  Brimming with triumph, Ryland began to jog down the silent street, knowing full well that there were no graveyards in this town.

  Nowhere to hide. Nowhere to run. He was coming for her.

  * * *

  Catherine pulled her black cap low over her head as she hunched in the shadows of the bar, using the wide brim to hide her face. Men and a few women were moving about, talking in hushed tones. It wasn't the raucous atmosphere of a bar where people were releasing a week's tension and having fun. It was the grim setting of a place on the edge of hell, and her body knew that there were too many vulnerable souls surrounding her. The temptation was great. Sleep gnawed at her weary body, trying to convince her to let her barriers down and fade into the respite of oblivion, as if she would dare let down her guard with so many people around and the thickness of night heavy upon them.

  No, not tonight. Tonight there would be no harvesting by her. She rubbed the locket between her thumb and index finger as she took a deep breath, trying to inhale energy into her beleaguered body.

  She couldn't afford to waste time. Ryland's trail had deviated to the south when they'd entered the city, but his scent was everywhere, as if he'd been in this room before. Knowing he was near was both terrifying and galvanizing. Even though she knew he was dangerous, every time the door opened, her heart jumped in anticipation of seeing the man who was so compelling.

  The walls of the bar were dark wood, and the ceiling was low, as if the room itself was trying to hide from view. The air was thick with a musty scent that wasn't cigarette or cigar smoke. It was something richer and deeper, as if it were emanating from the earth itself. It almost seemed like the soil beneath the building was breathing tainted air and exhaling it into the room.

  She leaned forward as she carefully scanned each occupant of the room. She needed someone old, someone grisly, someone who looked like they'd been in this town for five hundred years and seen all there was to see. Someone with one foot in the grave would be ideal, an old-timer who wanted to share their legacy of information before they died. No one else was likely to talk to a stranger drifting through town and asking questions. Not about the kinds of things she needed to know.

  She ignored the younger, robust patrons, scanning the room until she found a man sitting at the far end of the bar. His shoulders were hunched, his skin weathered with a thousand years of life, his jeans worn from many experiences. But his eyes were bright, and he watched everyone in the room with avid clarity. He turned his head sharply and looked right at Catherine, as if he'd been aware of her long before she'd noticed him.

  Yes, he was a good choice. He would know. She started to stand up, then stopped as fear trickled through her. No, no, no, he wasn't right. She wanted a woman. A woman would help another woman. A man was different. A man would have agendas that could drive him to do things...terrible things.

  Catherine jerked her gaze off him and scanned the rest of the room. The only women were young and fresh, women who probably had been born long after the stone had been stolen. Grimacing to herself, she finally decided on a woman sitting alone in the corner. Unlike the others, she wasn't flirting with men or dressed to impress. She was wearing an old denim jacket, and her brown hair was pulled back in a distracted ponytail. There was no beer or wine in front of her, just the remains of a sandwich and an empty bottle of water. She was young, maybe Catherine's age, but there was a grittiness about the set of her jaw that intrigued Catherine.

  It was a start. And she had to get going.

  Catherine quickly stood up and worked her way past the half-empty tables. As she walked, she caught the faint scent of death, Ryland's scent. She quickly glanced at the door, but no one was there. He was near, though. Very near.

  Her heart pounding, Catherine hurried across the well-worn planks to the woman in the corner. The woman looked up as Catherine approached. In her blue eyes, Catherine saw the burdens of a thousand years.

  Yes, this was the person she needed. "May I join you?"

  The woman's eyebrows went up, but she nodded.

  With another glance toward the front door, Catherine slid into one of the empty chairs, facing the room so she could watch it. Her heart was pounding, and her skin was prickling. Ryland was coming for her, and coming fast. "My name is Catherine," she said.

  The woman watched her. "Annie."

  Catherine tried to manage a smile, but she was too tense. "I ne
ed help."

  Annie raised her eyebrows. "I can tell."

  She leaned forward, unable to keep the urgency out of her voice. "I need to find the pyre of flames. Do you know where it is?" She left the question hanging in the air, praying that Annie would know what she was talking about.

  Annie stared at her, then slowly shook her head. "You don't want to find that," she said.

  Relief coursed through Catherine. Annie knew what it was. "I do want to find it," she said. "My daughter was kidnapped. I have to find her." It wasn't the pyre of flames that was her ultimate destination. Her ultimate goal was so much worse.