“How’s that possible?”

“Cassandra said that the cur who cast the spell is dead. I would guess the spell died with him.”

“Salvatore, we have to do something,” Harley pleaded.

“He needs to be put out of his misery.”

Cassie slapped a hand over her mouth to hold back her shattered cry of denial at Salvatore’s ruthless confession. What did it matter what the king wanted? There wasn’t a chance in hell that she was going to let anyone hurt Caine.

Not now. Not ever.

“No,” Harley said, her voice shaky.

“I don’t intend to make a decision tonight,” Salvatore assured his mate, although Cassie didn’t miss the grim edge in his voice. He would do what he thought best for his people. Even if it meant destroying a feral Were. “There are too many other pressing concerns.”

“True,” Harley grudgingly conceded. “Styx and Jagr have returned.”

“I must speak with them.”

“What should I tell Cassandra?”

“Nothing tonight,” Salvatore said in weary tones. “Let her have a few hours of rest. We’ll break the news in the morning.”

Harley sniffed, as if she were trying to hold back tears. “This is going to destroy her.”

“Not if she has us to give her the support she needs,” Salvatore comforted his distraught mate. “Are you coming with me?”

“Yes, I need to warn Darcy what’s happened.”

Chapter 20

It took Cassie several deep breaths before she could force her shaky legs to continue down the stairs.

She had no intention of accepting defeat, no matter what the king might say, but she couldn’t deny a piercing sense of disappointment. She’d desperately hoped that Salvatore could force his way through Caine’s feral insanity. To reach the man, or even the wolf, beneath the madness.

Now she had no one to depend on except herself.

Not a particularly reassuring thought.

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she was forced to a halt, not surprised by the confusing maze of cement tunnels that sprawled beneath the vast estate. The lair belonged to the King of Vampires. The only surprising thing would be if there weren’t a hundred passageways for Styx’s sun-challenged clan to travel around Chicago.

A tiny chill inched down her spine. Gods, but she hated being below ground.

Even with the high ceilings that were lined with fluorescent lights and the well-ventilated air, the tunnels were enough to make her have flashbacks to those long, dark years she’d been trapped in the demon lord’s lair.

She needed Caine, she acknowledged with a smile of pure irony. If he were with her, she wouldn’t be afraid.

He was her courage.

Reminding herself that she was wasting precious time, Cassie squared her shoulders and followed Caine’s fading scent down the nearest tunnel.

She was forced to double back twice when she caught the scent of an approaching vamp, but at last she reached the narrow passage that led to Caine’s cell. Her steps were halted, however, by the distinct scent of granite that teased at her nose.

Granite?

She slowly turned, her brows rising at the sight of the tiny gargoyle who waddled around the corner, his wings shimmering in a dazzling display of crimson and blue with veins of gold.

“Ma chérie? Where are you going?”

Cassie frowned; then the brief memory of seeing the small creature in the company of Tane and Jaelyn several weeks before teased at the edge of her mind. “Oh. I remember you.”

“Levet.” The gargoyle performed a deep bow. “At your service.”

At any other time, Cassie might have been charmed by the odd little creature. Right now, she just wanted him gone. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t have time now.”

Turning back to the passageway, she cautiously made her way down the cement floor, trying to ignore the gargoyle, who hurried to keep pace at her side.

“I received your message,” he said, his voice carrying a lilting French accent.

“My message?” Cassie furrowed her brow before she abruptly recalled her futile attempt to send the warning that Maluhia was in danger. “Oh. It wasn’t enough.” She grimaced, her gaze trained on the heavy metal door at the end of the hall. “It’s never enough.”

“We are all simply trying to do our best in very difficult circumstances,” Levet assured her.

“Yes,” she muttered in distracted tones, far more concerned with the imposing door and whether or not it was locked. “I suppose.”

There were a few seconds of blessed silence before the gargoyle was tugging on the hem of her new khaki shorts, which Regan had insisted she borrow along with a jade green shirt.

“Darcy is here.”

She heaved a sigh, her steps never slowing. “So I heard.”

“I am certain she would desire an opportunity to meet you.”

“Later.”

With a flutter of his wings, Levet moved to stand directly in her path, a worried expression on his ugly little features. “I really think it would be better if you went now.”

Forced to halt, she glared at her unwanted companion. Had he been sent by one of her sisters? She couldn’t imagine the arrogant Salvatore depending on this demon to guard his prisoners.

“Please, Levet,” she pleaded in husky tones. “Just leave me alone.”

He lifted his hands in a helpless motion, his long tail twitching. “I cannot.”

“Why?”

“I’ve seen that expression before.” He pointed toward her face. “On warriors.”

She blinked in confusion. Was that one of those things she was supposed to understand? She instinctively turned her head, knowing that Caine would know, only to have her heart miss a painful beat. She pressed a hand to the aching void in the center of her chest.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You look like you’re marching into a battle you don’t intend to survive.”

Oh. She flinched at his shocking perception. Was he an empath? She’d never heard that was a talent of gargoyles, but then Levet was obviously not the usual run-of-the-mill sort of gargoyle.

Wary of what other powers he might possess, she cautiously considered her words. “I’m no warrior.”

“Non, you are the prophet. Our prophet,” he insisted, the gray eyes holding a hint of chastisement. “And we need you.”

She continued to rub her chest, the emptiness becoming a physical pain. “I can’t do this without Caine.”

“But, ma chérie, sacrificing yourself will not bring him back.”

“I have to try,” she stubbornly insisted. Why couldn’t people understand that Caine was as essential to her as her visions were to the world? Besides, she’d already shared what little information she had of the future. A wall could hold back chaos. They had to be united. Blah, blah, blah. What more did they . . . United. Her breath tangled in her throat. “Oh my God.”

Levet took a step forward, his scent of concern drenching the air. “Cassandra?”

“We must be united,” she breathed.

“I agree,” the gargoyle said, watching her with a suspicious frown. “This is a time we must all stand together. Which is why I cannot allow you to do this.”

A slow, determined smile curved her lips. “I’m sorry, but nothing is going to stop me.”

“Cassandra.” He grasped her shorts as she stepped past him. “Cassie, wait.” His claws scraped against the cement as she forged a path to the door, dragging him along. Two steps from the door he lost his grip and she heard him muttering in frustration as he headed in the opposite direction. “Sacrebleu, where is that mangy dog when I have need of him?”

Cassie ignored the retreating demon, reaching out to turn the handle of the door. Stark relief blazed through her as it swung inward, although she didn’t doubt that once it slammed shut behind her it wouldn’t be nearly so easy to open.

Not that she cared. She knew once she entered the room there was only one way she was getting out.

Taking a cautious step forward, Cassie allowed her gaze to inspect the barren cell, which was lined in lead. Heavy silver shackles hung from the low ceiling and there was a drain in the center of the floor that she assumed was to get rid of the blood.

Salvatore’s words whispered in the back of her mind....

Messier.

She swallowed her urge to cry. She couldn’t think about what Caine had been forced to endure. What she had allowed him to endure in the hopes of saving him, she reminded herself with a stab of self-disgust.

The future was all that mattered. Their future together.

Gathering her courage, she turned her gaze to the large, twisted body that lay in a corner, the fur caked with dried blood and his ankles seared by the silver manacles around them.

Her heart twisted, but with a fierce resolve she moved to crouch at his side. Reaching out, she laid her hand on his neck, reassured by the steady beat of his heart even as a frown touched her brow.

She knew what she wanted—no needed—to do. But she didn’t have a damned clue how to go about it. And for once, she couldn’t blame her years of isolation for her lack of knowledge.