“Not one that’s feasible,” he rasped. “Return to Cezar and—”

“Wait, Styx,” Viper interrupted, his expression grim.

“What?”

“As much as I hate to agree with Roke on anything, I have to admit his suggestion has merit. We should at least discuss the idea.”

Styx hissed in shock. Was Viper suggesting that they offer up Abby like a sacrificial lamb?

“Before or after Dante chops off your head?” he snarled.

Viper glanced toward the vampire standing silently near the door.

“Roke, will you give us a minute?” Viper’s words were more a command than a request.

The clan chief paused, then with a glance toward Styx’s dangerously composed expression, he gave a sharp nod. “I’ll be in the library.”

Viper waited until Roke was out of the room and headed down the hallway before he stepped toward Styx.

“No,” Styx growled, holding up a warning hand. “I don’t want to hear it.”

The younger vampire planted his hands on his hips, his expression warning it was going to take violence to halt him from sharing his opinion. “Styx, you are without a doubt the finest Anasso to ever lead the vampires.”

“You think you can sway me with flattery?”

“I’m not done.”

Styx snorted. “Don’t let me stop you.”

“I was about to say that what makes you such a great leader is also your greatest weakness.”

“And what’s that?”

“Loyalty.”

Styx froze, catapulted back in time to when he was the trusted servant of the previous Anasso. He’d been a savage until the master had recruited him to become his soldier in the fight to pull the vampires out of the dark ages.

It hadn’t been pretty. Nefri had led her clan beyond the Veil to create peace among her people; Styx’s master, on the other hand, had used brute force and intimidation.

But it had worked. At least marginally. They were, after all, feral creatures.

Unfortunately, at some point the ancient vampire had become infected by the blood of human drug addicts. Styx had tried his best to save his master from his own weakness, even to the point of hiding the Anasso’s growing madness from others, but in the end there had been no choice but to put him out of his misery.

“This isn’t the same.”

“Isn’t it?” Viper demanded. The Chicago clan chief had been witness to Styx’s conflicted battle between allegiance and duty. “Your heart was convinced that protecting your mentor was what was best for the vampires even though your head understood what had to be done.”

Styx narrowed his gaze. Nothing was ever black-and-white. A good leader understood that he had to make decisions among the various shades of gray.

“And if we were speaking of using Shay as bait,” he bit out.

Viper’s midnight eyes flared with an instinctive fury, but with an obvious effort, he refused to be swayed. “I would try to kill you,” he admitted in cold tones. “But your duty isn’t just to me. Or Shay. Or Abby.”

Spinning on his heel, Styx stomped across the room, his body trembling with the force of his emotions. “Damn you.”

“Trust me, I don’t like this any better than you,” Viper continued to press. “Dante has been a brother to me for a very long time and Abby has become as dear to me as a sister. The thought of putting her in danger makes me want to ram my head through a wall. But can we destroy the world because we don’t like the choices we’re given?”

Styx wanted to block out the compelling words. An Anasso was supposed to protect his people, not put innocents in the direct line of fire.

A damned shame that Viper had a point.

Could he truly put the future of the world in jeopardy if there was the slightest chance to alter fate?

Feeling every one of his numerous years weighing down on him, Styx forced himself to turn back to his companion. “Even if I do agree to this madness and we manage to keep Dante from disappearing with his mate, we have no guarantee that the Dark Lord will give a shit about Abby,” he pointed out. “The creature has to know the Phoenix is in the world, but she hasn’t shown any interest in her before now.”

Viper nodded. “True, but the Dark Lord has always been a victim of his”—he made a sound of annoyance—“I mean her bloated pride. If she caught a scent of the Phoenix near the rift, her desire for revenge might overcome her need for caution.”

“That’s a lot of ifs,” Styx muttered.

“It’s surely worth a try?”

Was it?

Styx scowled, not yet prepared to concede defeat. “Have you considered what happens if Abby or the goddess she carries inside her are destroyed?”

Viper studied him with an unwavering gaze. “What do you mean?”

“Right now we still have the hope that we can injure the Dark Lord’s current form sufficiently to drive its essence out and she will be forced to retreat back to her prison,” he pointed out, just as he had for Salvatore. “If we lose the Phoenix nothing will stop her.”

Viper didn’t hesitate. “And if we do nothing?”

Styx briefly contemplated the pleasure of rearranging Viper’s perfect features. It wasn’t the first time. Viper was one of the few vampires with the balls to stand up to him. Something that Styx didn’t always accept with grace.

Instead he gave a shake of his head. “There has to be another way—” he began, only to break off as a shrill beep cut through the air. Digging the cell phone out of his pocket, he was astonished to discover his burst of power hadn’t destroyed the thing. He almost wished it had when he caught a glimpse of the message waiting for him. “Shit.”

“Now what?” Viper demanded.

“Regan heard from Jagr.”

Viper curled his hands into fists, already sensing the news wasn’t good. “Another rift?”

Styx tossed the phone on his desk. “Two more.”

“We’re out of time.”

It was true.

As much as he hated to put Abby in danger, they had to find some means of destroying the Dark Lord before the hordes of hell overwhelmed them.

Now the question was how to get Abby to the nearest rift before it was too late.

“Get Levet,” he abruptly commanded.

Viper blinked in confusion. “Why the gargoyle?”

“We have to get a message to Abby without interference from Dante. If he suspects we intend to use his mate as bait he’ll do everything in his power to stop us,” he said, grimacing at the knowledge Dante would never forgive him. “Levet is the only one who can reach directly into her mind.”

The gardens at the back of Styx’s mansion were just as rigidly formal as the rest of the estate. Perfectly manicured hedges that framed the individual rose beds, marble fountains circled by wrought-iron benches, and in the center of the flagstone pathways, a domed grotto that was bigger than most homes.

Lovely, of course, Levet acknowledged, but nothing compared to the gardens he’d known in France. No one could outdo the sun kings when it came to lavish excess.

Kicking a stray stone, Levet wandered aimlessly through the darkness, his wings twitching and his heart heavy. He hadn’t wanted to contact Abby. Not when he realized that Styx was asking her to deliberately put herself in front of the rift to piss off an evil deity.

But what choice had he had?

The vampires had insisted that without the presence of the Goddess of Light the entire world was doomed to be overrun with evil....

Rubbing his stunted horn, Levet wallowed in his misery, blithely unaware of the hint of brimstone that suddenly mixed with the scent of roses in the air.

So it was no wonder he nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand lightly touched his shoulder and a female voice whispered next to his ear, “Why so sad?”

“Sacrebleu.”

Leaping to the side, Levet glared at the small female demon with black, oblong eyes and a pale braid that hung nearly to the ground.

Yannah.

The female who’d bewitched him to the point of dropping everything to search for her like a Were in heat.

Imbecile.

“Hello, Levet.”

“You.” He scowled, in no mood to be teased. “Go away.”

She blinked, her heart-shaped face a picture of innocence. As long as he ignored the sharp, pointed teeth that could rip through stone. Oh, and the power that thundered through the air.

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” He tilted his chin, refusing to acknowledge the sizzling awareness that burned through him. So what if he felt like he’d been struck by lightning every time he caught a glimpse of this female? Or that his heart soared with delight? He was finished making a fool of himself. “I have followed you from here to Paris and back again. And for what?” He lifted his hands, waving them in magnificent disgust. “Not so much as a kiss.”

She tilted her head, looking like an inquisitive bird. “Would a kiss take away that frown?”

A kiss?

His heart gave one of those flutters, his blood heating at the mere thought of pulling her tiny body into his arms and tasting her brimstone passion. He had waited so long.