“How long?” Gaius pressed.

“Ten, maybe fifteen minutes,” Kostas grudgingly answered.

“That’s not very long.” With a frown Gaius glanced toward the sprawling mansion, easily sensing the labyrinth of tunnels that ran beneath the grounds. “What if you have trouble locating the child?”

“Trouble?” The man’s conceit returned with a vengeance. “I’m a Hunter. There’s nothing I can’t track.”

“And this is the Anasso’s lair,” Gaius pointed out. “Who knows what sort of spells and hexes he’s placed around the nursery?”

“I’m trained to avoid such traps.”

“Fine.” Let the bastard have his heart carved out by the King of Vampires. And, if by some miracle he did survive and escape with the baby, Gaius would be happy to claim the rewards from the Dark Lord. “Where will we meet after you’ve escaped with the babe?”

“I’ll contact you . . .”

“No.” Gaius pointed a warning finger. “We’ll arrange a meeting place before you enter the house and you will be there waiting for me with the child. Is that clear enough?”

“You don’t trust me?” Kostas sneered.

“I don’t trust anyone.”

“Neither do I. How do I know you won’t double cross me?” Kostas tilted his chin to a belligerent angle. “And believe me, I’ll know if you’re lying.”

Oh, Gaius believed him.

The same rumors that whispered of a Hunter’s ability to cloak himself in shadows, also hinted that they could smell a lie a mile off. Not that it mattered. If it came to the point he had to lie to the miserable SOB he would just kill him.

“My command is to take the babe to the Dark Lord,” he said. “Do you truly think I would defy our master?”

Kostas didn’t look happy, but he knew this was a battle he wasn’t going to win.

“We’ll meet at my current lair,” he muttered. “It’s fifty miles west of here in a small town called Platte. The entrance is at the back of the old quarry. Knock before you enter or you might find yourself in a nasty trap.”

“I’ll be there before dawn.” Gaius grimaced, his gaze returning to the mansion where he could sense over a dozen powerful demons. “Always assuming I survive.”

“And Styx?” Kostas demanded.

“What about him?”

“I was promised he would be given to me.”

Gaius shrugged. “That’s between you and the Dark Lord.”

“I’d better not be disappointed,” Kostas warned, abruptly disappearing in a shroud of shadows.

“That, my friend, is almost guaranteed,” Gaius muttered, clutching his medallion as he studied the best place to make his grand appearance in the Anasso’s lair.

Styx was pacing the carpet in his study, wishing he was upstairs in bed with his mate, when the intercom buzzed.

Crossing the room, he frowned at the sight of his finest Raven glaring into the camera near the nursery. Jagr was a six-foot-three vampire who had once been a Visigoth chief. He had pale gold hair that was braided to fall to his waist and a pair of ice-blue eyes that were as hard and unforgiving as his stark features.

If he’d ever been civilized, three hundred years of relentless torture had stripped it away. His recent mating with Darcy’s sister, however, had managed to at least house-train him.

“Jagr, what’s happened?” he demanded, knowing the vampire would never have bothered him if it wasn’t serious.

“Are you in your study?”

“Yes?” Styx frowned in confusion. “Why?”

“DeAngelo’s watching the monitors and he just caught sight of you entering the house from a side door and heading toward Tane and Laylah’s room.”

“Gaius,” he growled, silently thanking Nefri for her warning of her clan brother’s peculiar talents. “Send the Ravens to capture him—I’m on my way.”

Jagr nodded. “You got it.”

“And Jagr.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t leave the nursery unguarded,” he commanded. “This might be an attempt to distract us.”

Jagr wisely didn’t point out he didn’t need anyone telling him how to do his job. “I won’t.”

“Oh, and don’t kill the intruder.” A cruel smile touched Styx’s mouth. “I want the honors.”

With a blurring speed, Styx was out of his study and headed down to the lower levels of his lair. As he moved, his power spread before him, shattering lightbulbs and toppling marble statues.

At last reaching the private rooms he’d given to Tane and Laylah, Styx slowed his pace, nodding toward the Ravens standing guard in front of the nursery. Then, with his fangs fully exposed, he moved deeper down the corridor, away from the living quarters toward the narrow stairs that led to his dungeons.

Rounding a corner, he discovered Jagr standing in front of a silver door that had a small window cut at eye level. The one-time Visigoth turned at Styx’s approach, his always grim expression more bleak than usual and a massive sword held in his hand.

“Well?” Styx prompted.

“We caught him before he could reach Tane’s private rooms and brought him here,” Jagr answered, his ice-blue eyes hard with disgust. “Take a look.”

Styx moved to peek through the window, hissing in shock as he caught sight of the vampire standing in the center of the lined cell.

Even prepared, Styx found himself reeling at the image of himself on another vampire.

The same long, dark hair pulled into a braid, the same large body covered in leather, and distinctly Aztec features. Christ. It was like looking in a mirror.

Or at least, how he supposed it would be to look in a mirror. Without a reflection, he could only assume the bastard had gotten the features right.

Which begged the question . . . how had he gotten them right?

Had they met before? After so many centuries it was impossible to remember every vampire he’d crossed paths with.

“Damn.” He shook off the inane thoughts, concentrating on what was to come next. “What gave him away?”

“He was too pretty.”

Styx snorted. “Very funny. Now the truth.”

Jagr gave a lift of one massive shoulder. “He had to search for the hidden door leading to the lower floors.”

Styx shook his head as the faux Styx folded his arms over his chest in a manner eerily familiar.

“That’s just . . .”

“Creepy as hell,” Jagr finished for him.

“Yes.” Styx reached for the doorknob. “Stay here.”

Jagr frowned, clearly not pleased. “Are you sure? We don’t know the full extent of his powers.”

“Which is why I’m going in alone.” Styx held Jagr’s gaze, knowing his loyal guard’s first instinct would be to try and defend him. “For now, nothing’s more important than protecting the child. If something happens to me I want you to get Maluhia to the Commission.”

“The Commission?” Jagr looked like he’d chewed on a lemon. “They haven’t done a damn thing to help so far. Why would they protect the child now?”

Styx thought back to his recent encounter with Siljar, one of the Oracles who sat on the Commission. She hadn’t revealed much, but it was enough to make him suspect that they weren’t nearly so indifferent to the future of the world as they pretended.

“I would guess they’ve done far more behind the scenes than we’ve suspected,” he murmured.

“If you say.”

Styx laid his hand on his companion’s shoulder. “I have your word?”

There was a brief hesitation before Jagr gave a sharp nod. Once the vampire gave his promise, it was unbreakable. “Yes.”

Confident the child would be kept safe, Styx opened the door and stepped into the cell. Lifting his sword he’d grabbed on the way out of his office, he pointed it toward the intruder.

“Gaius, I presume?”

A smile. “I see my reputation precedes me. Should I be flattered?”

Styx snorted. “You can drop the disguise.”

“You have to admit it’s very good,” the creature smirked before there was a shimmer around his body and the image of Styx melted to become a vampire built on slighter lines, with lean features and dark eyes. He was naked now that he’d shifted to his natural form, except for the heavy medallion that rested against his bare chest.

“Not good enough.”

The vampire shrugged, appearing far too resigned for Styx’s peace of mind. “It was worth a try.”

“It was a dangerous gamble, which makes me think that there’s more to your plan.” He resisted the urge to take a step forward. As Jagr pointed out, they didn’t yet know the full extent of the bastard’s powers and the last thing he wanted was to get within arm’s length. “Are you the bait?”

Gaius gave a lift of his hands. “The Dark Lord is growing impatient to get her hands on the child. She doesn’t particularly care how many servants she has to sacrifice to achieve her goal.”