Fear the Darkness

He’d been convinced that nothing could be worse than to be condemned as a useless lump of stone and left to rot in Styx’s garden. After all, he’d spent his considerably long life attempting to become a fierce warrior who would at last impress his brethren.

Now he realized that being a part of the battle was no better.

Not because he feared he would be killed.

Death was death. Inevitable, even to immortals.

No, what he feared was failure.

He’d always been the smallest, the weakest, and the least likely to become a hero. Even his magic was pathetic, if he was being perfectly honest.

How could he possibly be expected to “tip the scales”?

Taking a kick to the head and having his tail stepped on more times than he could count, Levet at last reached the center of the room. He skidded to a halt at the edge of the energy field that surrounded Abby and the Dark Lord like a bubble, the electric prickles crawling over his skin as the evil deity sent another bolt of lightning into her slender opponent.

“Abby,” he cried out, close enough to see the blackened burns that seared her fragile skin.

She turned her head, looking every inch the Phoenix with her brilliant blue eyes and fierce expression.

“Levet.” She frowned in bewilderment, then doubled over as another bolt struck her in her stomach. “Stay back,” she gasped.

“Non.”

Darting forward, Levet abruptly found himself dangling off the ground as someone grabbed him by the horn and lifted him upward.

“Dammit, gargoyle,” a familiar voice snarled.

Levet was spun to meet a pair of furious silver eyes set in the face of a pirate.

Dante.

He wiggled, even knowing it was futile. Dante was like any other vampire.

Arrogant, annoyingly strong, and stubborn as a damned mule.

“Let me go,” he commanded.

Naturally Dante ignored him, his expression so brittle that Levet knew it would take very little to shatter him.

“This isn’t the time for your foolish bravado,” he snapped. “Abby’s fighting for her life.” His gaze compulsively shifted to where his mate was bravely ignoring her grievous wounds to straighten and send a pulse of light toward the Dark Lord. “She’s fighting for all of us.”

Levet grasped the vampire’s wrist, knowing he was teetering on the edge as he watched his mate being brutalized.

“Listen to me, Dante. I was a part of the vision.”

He scowled, reluctantly returning his attention to the gargoyle dangling from his hand. “What vision?”

“Cassie’s vision.”

“The prophet?”

“Oui.”

“Shit.”

“Let me go, Dante,” Levet softly demanded. “Abby needs me.”

The scowl remained. “If you—”

“I know,” he interrupted, sensing the electricity building in the air. The Dark Lord was about to strike again, and there was no guarantee the Phoenix could survive another blow. “I’m here to help.”

Without warning, he was lowered back to the ground, Dante’s face white with fear. “Save her,” he pleaded.

Levet nodded, forgetting his own doubts as he turned to step through the shroud of energy.

It no longer mattered what his purpose was, so long as he faced it with his head held high and his wings undrooping.

That was surely the definition of a hero?

He took another step forward, his skin crawling at the volatile power that slammed into him.

Mon Dieu.

He staggered to a halt. How could Abby bear the crushing pain?

Suddenly sensing his presence, Abby turned to regard him with unearthly blue eyes. “Levet?”

Before he could reassure her that he was there to help, he was distracted by the lightning bolt that sizzled past his horns.

“What’s this?” the Dark Lord mocked, her eyes pits of crimson flame and her body surrounded by a black aura. “Have you come to be squashed, little bug?”

“I . . .”

His courage threatened to crumble. He was a little bug. A foolish little bug with delusions of grandeur.

Then, his glance skidded toward the battle that raged just beyond the bubble. He flinched at the sight of the warriors who fought. And those who’d already fallen. They didn’t care if he was tiny, or if his wings were too frilly, or his magic as fickle as a fairy whore. They were sacrificing everything to halt the dark tide. How could he do any less?

He stiffened his backbone. Hero, Levet. You’re a hero, not a bug.

“Well, gargoyle,” the Dark Lord drawled. “Has the cat gotten your tongue?”

Levet tilted his chin. “I have come to kill you.”

The crimson eyes narrowed. “Is this a joke?”

Levet felt Abby place a hand on his wing, the warmth of the goddess surrounding him.

“Levet . . . no. Please.”

“Stay out of this.” The Dark Lord launched another attack at Abby, driving her back several steps before turning back toward the quivering Levet. “If he wants to die, then who am I to deny his wish?”

The lightning flashed toward him, and with a curse he leaped to the side, his tail twitching. Some hero, he wryly acknowledged, sensing Abby escalating the power of the goddess as he darted from yet another bolt.

This wasn’t helping.

So what would?

As the question was rattling through his brain, he made another dodge, his gaze catching sight of the strange form that haloed the Dark Lord’s slender body.

Although most of his skills were questionable, the one constant was his ability to see through illusion.

Any illusion.

Squatting to avoid the latest strike of lightning, he ignored the fact the Dark Lord was forced to turn her fury back toward Abby, who was draining the last of her power into the wicked bitch.

Instead, he kept his attention locked on the aura that flickered in and out of focus around the Dark Lord.

There was something strange about it.

It was like the spirit was attached to the Dark Lord . . . but not fully integrated.

Or perhaps not fully committed.

Either way, he suddenly knew that this was his one shot.

Staying low as the two powerful deities continued their private battle, Levet inched his way forward.

The heat and pain pounded against him, but he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other. The closer he was to the Dark Lord, the less chance his spell would backfire and hurt someone else.

Vampires were so testy about friendly fire.

A sickly smile curved his lips as he lifted his hands. This was it. Do or die.

Concentrating on the spirit hovering around the Dark Lord, he released the magic that was as ancient as the beginning of time.

At first there was nothing more than sparkles of color that danced over the silhouette of the Gemini. It was a pretty display, but it didn’t even make the Dark Lord notice. Instead, she continued her ruthless attack on Abby, veins of crimson running beneath the pale ivory skin.

Stubbornly, Levet refused to concede defeat.

It was the Gemini protecting the Dark Lord.

Without that protection the bitch would be vulnerable to the Phoenix’s attack.

He lifted his hands, but even as he was preparing to launch another spell, the sparkles began to sink into the dark aura. The darkness quivered, as if the pinpricks of light were causing it pain. Or injury.

Levet was hoping it was injury.

He released his second burst of magic. This time the sparkles struck directly into the aura, exploding like tiny firecrackers.

The scent of burned flesh mixed with the charred odor of sulfur and a foul stench of a rotting carcass. As if someone had just yanked open a grave.

The darkness shuddered, then like thick molasses it began to pull away from the female form.

Levet gagged, belatedly realizing the Dark Lord had sensed her danger and whirled in his direction.

“What have you done?” she screeched, her hands reaching for the ephemeral spirit as if she could physically hold on to it.

“Exactly what I promised,” he croaked, drained to the point he could barely stand.

With an audible snap, the spirit pulled away from the Dark Lord, shooting away from the lights that danced in pursuit.

“No.” The female stumbled backward, clearly aware of her vulnerability. “This is impossible.”

“‘The word impossible is not in my dictionary,’” Levet quoted Napoleon, a smile curving his lips as Abby stepped behind the female and wrapped her hands around the Dark Lord’s neck.

“Die,” Abby whispered softly.

“You . . .” Shuddering as the power of the goddess flowed through her body, the Dark Lord glared at Levet with a soul-deep hatred. “You will pay for this.”

Levet was hoping it was an empty threat.

The evil putain was beginning to rot from the inside out as the goddess’s power poured into her, her skin splitting open to allow the crimson flames to spill out.

But even as she was dying, she reached out her hand and pointed her finger at Levet.

He darted to the side, but he was a half beat too late and even as the Dark Lord was enveloped in a shimmering mist, she sent out a bolt of lightning that struck him square in the chest.