The symbols represented the knowledge that Baine had managed to acquire over his long life. Like a moving library.
On steroids.
Levet’s snout twitched at the pounding smell of power and incense and magic.
Folding his arms over his chest, Baine studied his mate before turning his attention to Levet.
“Now isn’t the time for a visit,” he growled.
Tayla moved forward, laying her hand on the male’s arm. “I asked him to come.”
The dragon flicked a brow upward, his gaze lingering on Levet’s lumpy features as if searching for mold. Levet sniffed. He hadn’t had mold on his face since he’d fallen asleep on top of a church in Amsterdam for a few decades.
“Why?” That was Baine. A dragon of few words.
Of course, when you could breathe fire, you didn’t have to say much.
Levet sniffed. “Since when does Tayla have to ask permission for a visit from her favorite demon?”
The brow inched even higher. “Your skull is even thicker than I suspected if you believe that you’re her favorite demon.”
Levet scowled, but before he could retort, Tayla was speaking.
“Levet has a talent for seeing through illusions.”
Baine turned his attention back to Tayla. “So does Ravel,” he reminded her, referring to Blayze’s mother.
Tayla shook her head. “No, she has a skill for creating them.”
Baine paused, considering her words before he gave a decisive nod of his head.
“That’s true,” he admitted. “But I still don’t understand why you would ask the gargoyle to come here.”
Concern darkened her eyes as Tayla studied her mate’s grim features.
“We have to do something, Baine,” she said in soft tones. “For the first time in centuries you have a relationship with your father. I can’t bear to see that destroyed because of a mistake.”
The air sizzled with a blast of heat. “It’s not a mistake,” Baine rasped. “Char would never have kidnapped Blayze.”
Tayla moved back to her mate, laying her hand on the center of his chest. The tattoos whirled over his skin at a dizzying speed.
“I believe that. With all my heart,” she told him. “But we have to have actual proof for Synge.”
The dragon’s lean features softened, his fingers lightly touching Tayla’s cheek. “And you think this creature can help?”
“Hey—” Levet started to protest only to snap his lips shut when the burning amber gaze swiveled in his direction. He was fearless, not stupid. Baine was clearly on edge, causing the air to snap, crackle, and pop with his power. “I am a demon with many talents,” Levet grumbled.
Tayla gave his wing a small pat before lowering her hand. “If Char didn’t kidnap Blayze, someone must have entered the lair and taken them both.”
Baine’s brows snapped together. “Impossible. No one can enter a dragon’s lair.”
Tayla sent her mate a wry glance. “I did it.”
“That’s only because you’re special.”
A flush touched the imp’s cheeks even as she gave a shake of her head.
“I’m happy you think I’m special, but we both know I’m not unique.”
Baine stiffened. “Do you think another fey with royal blood might have snuck in?”
She gave a shrug. “Perhaps. Or it could be a demon we don’t even realize has the same powers as me.”
Baine was silent a long moment, a tendril of smoke curling from one nostril.
“What can the gargoyle do?” he demanded. “If there was an intruder, I would have caught their scent.”
“Not if they had the ability to cover their presence with an illusion.”
Another pause. Then the dragon offered a grudging nod. “Fine. He can offer his assistance.”
Levet narrowed his gaze. Pompous jackbutt.
No, wait. Jackass. Oui. That sounded better.
But even as he prepared to inform the ancient demon that he had better things to do than poke around a smelly dragon lair, he caught Tayla’s pleading glance.
“Bien.” Levet squared his shoulders. He deeply disliked dragons. Almost as much as he disliked vampires. But he would do whatever possible to ease Tayla’s anxiety. “Let me do my thing.”
Levet closed his eyes—he’d discovered that it offered a more dramatic effect—then he held out his hand and slowly circled the room. Behind him, Levet could hear Baine muttering beneath his breath.
He caught the words ridiculous and pest. Typical dragon. Jealous of another male who clearly possessed the superior talent.
“He really is the best at detecting illusions,” Tayla loyally assured her companion.
Determined to live up to Tayla’s faith in his skills, Levet fiercely concentrated on his surroundings.
Not an easy task. The lair of a dragon was filled with a variety of demons, which meant there were a hundred different types of magic that threaded through the air. Plus, Baine’s thundering power was battering against him like a jackhammer.
He moved toward the bed in a far corner, his snout wrinkling. The curse swirled around the area like a nasty shroud. Poor Blayze. Her life must be a sheer horror. And now she’d been taken by—
Levet came to a halt, slowly bending down to touch the scorch marks that marred the floor next to the bed.
“Here,” he said.
Tayla moved to stand next to him with a swish of satin. “What is it?”
His brow furrowed as he allowed the lingering magic to settle inside him.
“It is not precisely a portal, but there was some sort of opening created.”
Tayla crouched down beside him. “Fey?”
Levet shook his head. “Dragon.”
There was a shocked silence before Tayla released a harsh sigh.
“Crap. I was so sure that Char was innocent.” Tayla straightened.
Levet barely heard her low words. His attention was focused on the muted hum of power he’d very nearly missed.
“There’s something else,” he said in absent tones, feeling tugged across the room by the strange vibrations.
Tayla followed behind him. “What is it?”
Hmm. A most intriguing question.
It wasn’t an illusion, he decided, his claws clicking on the floor as he moved toward a wall at the end of the room. Or a spell. It was more an echo of magic.
“It’s ancient,” he at last decided, lifting his hand to touch the floor-to-ceiling tapestry that covered the wall.
It was different from those in the hallway. This one was brighter, with scenes of children playing in a sunlit garden. He would wager his favorite Backstreet Boys poster that this work of art had been chosen by Ravel, not Synge.
Tayla brushed her fingers over his wing. “Levet?”
“Were these Blayze’s original rooms?” he asked, scrunching his snout as tingles of power shot through his arm.
The tapestry wasn’t responsible for the magic he was sensing.
“Yes,” Tayla said. “Why?”
Grasping the ancient fabric, Levet gave a sharp tug to bring it tumbling to the ground. Tayla made a choked sound. Perhaps she was worried about the cloud of dust that was staining her pretty tunic. Or more likely she was considering the fiery death that Synge would bestow on anyone who dared to desecrate his beloved daughter’s room.
Levet was more concerned with the polished stone wall. “There is something here,” he announced, his tail slashing across the floor as he took a step forward.
Baine walked to stand directly behind Levet, his heat searing across Levet’s wings. Next time he visited a dragon lair he intended to bring a bag of marshmallows to toast. The annoying beasts were arrogant, selfish, and lacking in the most basic understanding of good manners.
The least they could do was provide him with a yummy snack.
“I don’t see anything,” Baine said.
“I’ll show you.” Levet sucked in a deep breath and gathered his powers.
/> “No,” Baine snapped. “Your magic is—”
“Stupendous,” Levet interrupted, tapping the tip of his claw against the wall. At the same time, he released the magic that bubbled deep inside him.
There was a giddy rush of anticipation, then, without warning, it burst out of him with more force than he expected.
Not that it was his fault. Perhaps his control over his magic was a tad sketchy. Okay, it was a lot sketchy. But he couldn’t be held responsible for the fact that it actually exploded when it encountered the spell that lingered on the wall.
There was a detonation that made Levet’s ears ring, and chunks of stone showered down from the ceiling. At the same time the floor cracked beneath his feet, as if the lair was about to split open and drop him into the pits of Hades.
There was a low growl from the dragon behind him. “Shit,” Baine rasped. “My father is going to kill us.”
Tayla tried to soothe her furious mate. “Not if we find Blayze.”
Levet ignored them both, his gaze captured by the shimmering hieroglyphs that were suddenly visible on the wall.
Ha. He knew that he’d sensed something.
Belatedly noticing Levet’s remarkable discovery, Baine and Tayla moved to stand directly beside him.
“What is that?” Tayla demanded.
Levet traced one of the hieroglyphs with the tip of his claw. They looked like they’d been singed into the lower half of the wall.
“Ancient rune marks,” Levet said, his voice distracted.
“A part of the curse?” Tayla pressed.
Levet shuddered, abruptly pulling his claw away from the wall. There was a pulsing darkness in the markings.
“Oui,” he breathed, rubbing his claw on the side of his leg, trying to rid himself of the cloying evil that emanated from the runes.
Baine made a sound of surprise. “You discovered the curse?”
“Just an echo of it,” Levet corrected.
“Explain,” Baine commanded.
Levet frowned. “This is the residue from the original curse.”
The tattoos beneath Baine’s skin swirled as he sent Levet an impatient frown. “That isn’t an explanation.”
Levet scowled, glancing toward Tayla. “Does he have to be here? I can’t concentrate with an overgrown lizard breathing down my neck.”
She heaved a sigh, as if dealing with two males was more than any poor imp should have to endure. “Please, Levet, this is important.”
Levet flattened his lips, forcing himself to turn back toward the seething dragon.
“When the curse was cast, it imprinted itself on the wall,” he explained.
“Cast?” Baine narrowed his amber eyes. “Are you saying the curse came from a witch?”
“It was designed by magic.” Levet considered for a long moment. There were many creatures capable of creating a spell. Including dragons, the fey, and gargoyles. But he would have been able to detect their lingering scents. The fact that no trace remained indicated it was probably from a human. And that whoever it was had already died. “The most likely creator was a witch,” he decided.
Baine studied him with a suspicious gaze. Then, seeming to decide that Levet wasn’t yakking up his chin—no wait, that wasn’t right…yanking his chain…oui, that was it—the dragon glanced toward the wall.
“Why didn’t we see the runes before?”
Levet shrugged. “The curse must have been designed to conceal all traces of it.”
Baine lifted his hand, holding it near the wall, but wisely not touching it. Levet grimaced. He could still feel the lingering evil.
“If we get rid of the runes, will that break the curse?” the dragon demanded.
“No.” Levet waved his hands toward the runes. “The marks are just the residue from the casting. You must discover the original object that held the spell and destroy it.”
Tayla’s brow furrowed. “If the witch is dead, how are we supposed to discover the object?”
“Find the creature who cast the curse,” Levet told her. “They must still have the vessel used to contain the magic.”
“The witch—”
“Created the spell,” Levet interrupted. “It was another who cast it.”
Tayla slowly turned. Levet felt his heart drop at the sight of the unreasonable hope etched on her pretty face.
He might be a hero, but he couldn’t perform miracles. At least not with a dragon breathing down his neck. It was very unnerving to have a female regarding him with that particular expression.
“Can you tell who it was?”
Levet swallowed a sigh and closed his eyes. The curse had been cast centuries ago, but the sheer power of the spell had been massive. Whoever had cast it must have left behind at least a small portion of their essence.
He concentrated on the area around the wall, sorting through the various scents laced through the room like a tangled road map.
It might have been an impossible task, but Levet suspected that the rooms had been sealed shut after Ravel had left with Blayze all those years ago. There was a thick emptiness between the various layers.
Concentrating on the unmistakable chill he’d just discovered, Levet did his best to ignore the power that beat through the room like a drum.
Was Baine deliberately trying to distract him?
Foolish creature.
Bending down, Levet drew in a deep breath, isolating the scent until he was certain it was the one attached to the spell.
“A vampire,” Levet at last announced, opening his eyes to glance toward Tayla.
He was expecting amazement. Awed wonderment. Perhaps even a shower of kisses.
He had, after all, just solved a centuries-old mystery.
At the very least there should be squeals of delight.
Instead Tayla was glancing toward the door with wide eyes.
A bad feeling settled in the pit of Levet’s stomach as he turned to see what the imp was staring at. Only then did he realize the cause of the excessive power that throbbed through the room.
Now there wasn’t just one dragon, but two.
The new one was a large, brutish male with short black hair and eyes the color of liquid silver. He was wearing a loose pair of cargo pants and his chest was left bare to reveal his bulging muscles.
Synge.
“The vampires took my baby?” he said in low, awful tones.
Tayla took a step forward. “No, sire.”
Synge pointed a finger in Levet’s direction. “He just said that a vampire cursed her.”
Tayla held up a hand, almost as if she was trying to calm the ancient dragon. “It’s possible, but—”
Flames danced over the dragon’s skin, scorching the floor and reminding Levet why he hated being around dragons. They were forever spouting fire.
So rude.
“I’ll kill the bastards,” Synge roared, before he was pivoting on his heel to storm away in dramatic fashion.
“Shit.” Sending Levet a withering glare, Baine was hurrying from the room in the wake of his father.
Levet breathed a small sigh of relief. The air had finally cooled to a bearable level.
“Where are they going?” he asked Tayla.
She bit her lip, her face oddly pale. “I would guess that Synge intends to start a war with the vampires, and my mate is trying to halt the looming genocide.”
“Ah.” Levet considered for a minute, then with a small shrug, he headed toward the door. “My work here is done,” he said. “Now I intend to return to my fire imp and her toasty bed beneath the volcano.”
Already busy imagining the lovely imp, Levet had reached the middle of the room when Tayla rushed to stand directly in his path.
“No,” she breathed.
Halting, Levet regarded her in confusion. “Non?”
“We have to do something to avoid disaster,” Tayla told him. “You have to convince Synge that you aren’t certain the vampires are responsible.”
Levet waited for th
e punch line. He rarely understood the jokes among other species, but he was polite enough to laugh when it was expected.
But Tayla continued to stare at him with an expectant expression. Mon dieu. She was serious.
“Talk to an enraged dragon?” He gave a sharp shake of his head. “And people call me locomotive.”
The pretty imp heaved an exasperated sigh. “Loco,” she muttered in impatient tones.
“Oui, loco.” Levet waved an impatient hand. “I prefer to keep my bits and pieces un-singed.”
Tayla pressed a hand to her stomach, the scent of lemons bursting through the air. She was genuinely afraid.
“Maybe Baine can stop him,” she said, her voice uncertain.
“Let us hope so,” Levet said. “The peace treaty that was signed between the dragons and vampires a thousand years ago is the only thing that has kept this world from being bathed in bloodshed.”
Tayla made a sound of distress, and Levet belatedly realized he had made a strategic mistake. He should have tried to convince Tayla that all would be well. That Synge could rampage all he liked without fear of reprisal.
Instead he’d reminded her of the dire consequences of a war between the dragons and the vampires.
“You have to warn the Anasso,” she abruptly decided, referring to the leader of the vampires by his formal title.
Levet’s wings twitched. He hadn’t confessed to his friend that he was currently avoiding Styx.
He cleared his throat. “Actually that would be a most unwise idea.”
Tayla frowned. “Why?”
“The thing is that Styx might be the teeniest bit unhappy with me,” Levet admitted.
Tayla rolled her eyes. “What did you do?”
Levet resisted the urge to ask why she would assume it was his fault. After all, Styx could be such a baby. Typical vampire.
“I might have put his absurdly large sword up for bid on eBay,” he reluctantly confessed.