Darkness Unleashed (Guardians of Eternity #5)(52)
Author: Alexandra Ivy

With a sigh, she leaned against a rock that jetted from the river. She was only a handful of miles south of Hannibal, but she might as well have been in the middle of nowhere.

There was no sound of traffic, no laughter of children, no barking dogs. In fact, there wasn’t even the call of a bird…

Regan shoved herself upright.

She might be in the middle of nowhere, but there should have been the usual wildlife scurrying through the dense trees. A bird, a squirrel, a curious raccoon.

The fact that there wasn’t could only mean that there was something dangerous in the area. Something that had been around long enough to drive them away.

Feeling her strength return, along with a flood of hope, Regan grimly headed up the steeply angled bank, using the dagger to hack through the thicker foliage. At least the damned thing was going to come in handy for something.

Regan reached the top of the bluff and slowed her pace to a mere crawl. If she were right (not at all a certainty), there was a pack of curs roaming these woods and they had the witch’s spell to keep then hidden from her senses.

It seemed a good idea to try to avoid tripping over one.

Slipping silently from tree to tree, she listened carefully, depending on her superior sight and hearing to warn her of any danger. The sun slowly moved overhead, warning that time was passing, but Regan ignored the urge to rush. This was supposed to be a…what did they call it? A recon mission. A search and get-out-alive sort of deal.

On the point of accepting she was wasting her time, again, she was hit by the unmistakable scent of peanut butter fudge. Yes! She continued forward and at last caught sight of a tin roof through the trees.

A cabin. It had to be.

Her heart lodged in her throat as she edged cautiously closer. Yep. Definitely a cabin. Peering through the trees, she studied the wooden structure. It wasn’t much. Just a few unpainted boards slapped together with a door and two windows. The attached shed wasn’t much better, only without the windows, and leaning to the point it threatened to become detached from the rusty tin roof.

A place that had gone past charming, straight to rustic.

And not at all the setting she would have pictured for a pack of curs with authority issues.

Of course, that’s what usually made a good hiding place a good hiding place.

Crouching behind yet another bush, Regan kept a watch on the building, her nerves stretched tight by the uncanny silence. The place appeared deserted, but she wasn’t stupid.

Isolated cabin. Seemingly abandoned.

It was a trap waiting to happen.

It was also the closest thing to a clue she’d found all day.

Gathering her courage, Regan slipped silently toward the cabin, her heart pounding so loudly she feared it would give her away. Astonishingly, nothing attacked (wonders of wonders), and pressed against the rough planks, she carefully inched up high enough to peer into the window.

A battered chair, a heavy dresser, a fireplace that looked like it had been recently used.

No howling curs. No magic-wielding witch.

No Sophie. No Gaynor.

She gritted her teeth, too stubborn, or maybe it was too stupid, to concede defeat.

Straightening, she inched her way toward the attached shed, keeping herself pressed against the cabin, as if that somehow made her invisible. Hey, it was how they did it in the movies. Then pausing only a moment to lean her ear against the door, she pushed it open.

Preparing to bolt at the first hint of danger, Regan scanned the shadowed interior, not surprised to find a handful of rusting tools collecting cobwebs in the corners, or the wooden barrel that had been overturned to play table for a kerosene lamp.

The whip and numerous daggers, swords, and handguns placed on a rickety shelf were a bit more unexpected.

It was the bedraggled, nearly unrecognizable imp chained to the wall, however, that was the real showstopper.

Culligan.

Chapter 15

Just for a moment, Regan remained frozen in the doorway.

After days of endless, grueling, relentless searching, she’d stumbled over her damned prey when she wasn’t even looking for him.

How was that for irony?

She clenched the dagger, studying the imp who’d made her life a living hell.

He looked…ghastly.

Blindfolded and leaning heavily against the chains, as if he couldn’t hold his own weight, his red hair was matted into disgusting clumps, and his white skin was marred with dirt and dried blood.

Gone was the brash, conceited demon who had taken such delight in tormenting her, and in its place was a sad, pathetic waste of a creature wearing nothing more than a red thong.

A smile of absolute pleasure curled her lips as he weakly attempted to lift his head, clearly sensing someone had entered the shed, but too disoriented to recognize her scent.

“Who’s there?” he croaked. “Please, help me. I’m being held against my will. Please…” His plea was cut short as she crossed the narrow space to rip off the blindfold. He blinked against the sunlight that spilled into the room, then his eyes widened in horror as he recognized his rescuer. “Oh, shit.”

“Hello, Culligan,” she purred, her gaze lowering to the small medallion tied around his neck. The witch’s amulet. And the reason she hadn’t sensed the bastard when she’d first approached the cabin.

“You,” he rasped, struggling against the heavy chains that held him.

“Surprise.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I told you that you couldn’t escape me.” Reaching out, Regan ripped the amulet from the leather thong around Culligan’s neck and tucked it into her pocket. Immediately the shed was filled with the overpowering smell of plums, while her scent disappeared. Well, well. Wasn’t that convenient? Her smile widened with wicked pleasure. “Of course, at the time I didn’t expect the curs to be so rude as to steal my toy and hide him from me. I hope they didn’t break you.”

Sweat bloomed on his forehead, visions of his death dancing in his head.

“There are curs crawling all over the place,” he desperately attempted to frighten her away. “Are you trying to get caught?”

He did have a point.

A smart Were would cut out Culligan’s heart and escape before the curs returned.

Unfortunately, her mission was no longer one of simple revenge. Jagr needed her. And if it meant keeping this bastard alive and risking her neck…then so be it.

Of course, that didn’t mean she couldn’t have some fun with the jackass.

Lifting the dagger, she drew a thin line over his heart, watching the blood drip down his chest.