Immortals 02 - Popp, Robin T - The Darkening.rtf

DARK AND DANGEROUS

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Lexi's neck prickled. Clenching her hand into a fist, she whirled around, swing­ing with all her might at the huge vampire looming behind her.

There was enough power in her punch to knock a man silly-and it would have, she felt sure, if the man hadn't caught her fist with one hand then grabbed her wrist with the other in one smooth move. Before she had time to react, he twisted her arm and shoved her forward over Ironwood's body.

When he leaned into her, she felt the size and mass of his body dwarfing her and tried not to panic as he pulled back her hood. "You're determined to get yourself killed, aren't you? I bet you gave your parents heart attacks growing up."

Lexi froze. "Darius?" He pulled her back to her feet and released her, stepping away as he pulled back his hood. "How'd you know it was me under the hood?"

His gaze heated. "I'd know your body anywhere."

Other Love Spell books by Robin T. Popp: TOO CLOSE TO THE SUN

The Immortals

The Darkening

Robin T Popp

To Marlaine,

for her unwavering friendship,

support and ability to pretend that my

fictional world is as real to her

as it is to me.

LOVE SPELL®

June 2007

Published by

Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc. 200 Madison Avenue New York, NY 10016

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."

Copyright © 2007 by Robin T. Popp

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.

ISBN-10: 0-505-52702-2 ISBN-13: 978-0-505-52702-8

The name "Love Spell" and its logo are trademarks of Dorchester Publishing Co., Inc.

Printed in the United States of America.

PROLOGUE

So this is death.

The irony was not lost on Darius as flashes of bril­liant light blinded him and pain drove him to his knees. With one hand braced against the tiled floor of the balcony, the other clutched his stomach as every nerve burned with a blistering intensity. He fought to stay conscious while nonexistent shards of glass pierced his skull.

There was powerful magic at work here-living magic that, perversely, was killing him.

"Sekhmet!" he roared. This was her fault. If his pa­tron goddess hadn't removed his life force, the Calling spell would have transported him painlessly to wher­ever he was needed. Earth must be in dire straits if hu­mans had broken a seven-hundred-year silence to Call the Immortals.

He fought the pull of the spell, drawing on his own power until he felt it rippling along his skin, causing his tattoos to lift and morph briefly into the items they represented before turning into images once more.

"Whitley!" If Sekhmet wouldn't answer him, maybe her priest would. Gritting his teeth against the on­slaught of ever-increasing pain, he fell into a sitting po­sition and wrapped his arms around himself to keep from being ripped apart.

Then, as suddenly as the attack started, it ended. Slowly the pain in his head faded, and he opened his eyes. Bright light blinded him, but he quickly realized it was merely the sun shining overhead. As his eyes ad­justed, the rest of his surroundings came into view­, the clear blue sky, the lush green woods on each side of the sapphire-blue water of Lake Pax. Darius studied the flight of a snow-white hawk as it flew low across the water, searching just below the water's surface for its next meal.

Ravenscroft-his home-was beautiful, and yet its beauty was lost on him.

At the sound of running footsteps, he pushed him­self to his feet.

"Darius, I heard you cry out. "Whitley hurried to him, putting a hand under his elbow for support. "Are you all right?"

"It appears I'll live," Darius muttered, repeating a joke that was so old it had ceased to be funny.

"What happened?" Whitley ran a critical gaze over him, as if he needed to reassure himself that Darius re­ally was okay.

"It was a Calling spell," he said. "A very strong one. There must have been many witches working together on it." He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to ease some of the tension.

Whitley looked stricken. "Without your life force, you could have been killed."

Darius grimaced but said nothing.

its a goou thing you were aoie to DreaK tneir now, Whitley commented.

"I didn't," Darius answered, remembering the way the living magic had suddenly been cut off. "Some­thing interfered with the spell."

"A demon?"

"If there's a demon out there powerful enough to stand up against that much magic, no wonder they need the Immortals," Darius said thoughtfully. He paused to give his next words emphasis. "I can't ignore this."

"There's no way she'll let you leave," Whitley said.

"I'm not asking her for permission." Giving the priest's shoulder a gentle squeeze, he turned and strode back into the palatial building that was his home.

His mother, a favorite of Re's when the Egyptian god had ruled the world, was known for her fiery temper as well as her power for healing, which made her unpre­dictable at times. Most of the time, he amended. "Sekhmet!" Darius hollered, storming through the great hall. He headed for his mother's audience cham­ber, slamming through the gigantic double doors that dwarfed even his 6'5" frame.

At the far end was the low dais upon which his mother's throne chair sat-empty. Behind it, the back­lit waterfall filled the room with the soft glow of light and the soothing sounds of running water that did lit­tle to calm his nerves.

Looking around, he willed her to appear. "Damn it," he growled when she didn't. There was no telling what problems the delay was causing on Earth. Ravenscroft did not exist in the same dimension as Earth; there­fore, ten minutes to him could be days by Earth's stan­dard. Given the strength of that Calling spell, he didn't think Earth had the luxury of time.

Unable to quell the sense of urgency pressing in on him, Darius paced back and forth in his mother's audi­ence chamber, impotent rage seething beneath the surface of his otherwise calm facade. After several hours, he finally felt the shimmer of power behind him and turned to see his patron goddess materialize on her throne. Though she was centuries older, she ap­peared to be as young as Darius, and her beauty never failed to take his breath away. Today she was wearing a long, flowing aquamarine gown, cut low to show off her ample bosom-and around her neck she wore her diamond necklace, from which hung a simple golden orb that radiated such brilliance it could have housed the sun. In truth, it housed something far more pre­cious to Darius.

"Where have you been?" he demanded without pre­amble, his eyes on the orb.

"I'm fine, thank you for asking," she said coolly.

"I'm needed on Earth," he continued. "It's urgent, so if you'll just restore my life essence. .."

Her green eyes sparkled with the temper Darius knew too well. "It's a sad day when a son can't even be civil to his mother."

Darius bit back his snarl. "Good evening, Mother," he said with exaggerated politeness. "I must say, you are looking spectacularly beautiful today, as you do every day. Your smile brings sunshine to an otherwise dark and dismal existence. The songbirds' sweetest melody pales in comparison to your-"

"Stop-before I forget how much I love you," she warned. "I was with my sisters when you bellowed for me-and didn't feel like abandoning them so abruptly. They still mourn the loss of your brothers."

Darius heaved a sigh. "They aren't dead, Mother."

"They might as well be," she replied hotly. "To stay on Earth, fornicating with human females and pursuing other hedonistic activities ... too busy, even, to pay Ravenscroft a visit." She paused, shaking her head. "It's enough to break a mother's heart."

Darius rubbed his head. It was the same old argu­ment. "They're grown men. They're entitled to live how­ever and wherever they want." He couldn't help wondering whether his brothers had felt the spell. Where exactly were Adrian and Tain, Kalen and Hunter? Had they abandoned their new lifestyles to answer the summoning? "No matter how misguided their choices might be," he added, because defending his brothers was not going to make Sekhmet more sympathetic to his request. "I, on the other hand, am very aware of my duties and responsibilities, which is why I summoned you. There's trouble on Earth. I've been Called."

"What?" He was relieved to hear the alarm in her voice. "But you're still here."

"My body is bound to my life essence. You know that as long as you wear that orb around your neck, I can't leave."

She seemed to relax. "Good." She held out her hand and he took it, helping her to rise and step off the dais. "Shall we dine?"

"What?" He let go of her hand, surprised. "Didn't you hear what I said? There's trouble on Earth. I need to leave."

Irritation crossed her face. "You're needed here."

He stared at her in disbelief. "For what?"

She had continued walking to the doorway that led into the dining hall, but seeing that he was no longer following her, she was forced to stop and look at him.

"Really, Mother," he pressed before she could say anything, "Ravenscroft is not exactly a hotbed of de­mon activity. There's not a breath of death magic in the entire realm."

"Don't be ridiculous," she scoffed. "Just because there are no demons doesn't mean you can't train."

"What do you think I've been doing for the past seven hundred years? I've done nothing but train­ relentlessly-so that when I'm finally Called, I'll be pre­pared." He took a step forward. "Now, for the last time, restore my life essence."

"No."

He stood there, staring after her as she turned and continued to the doorway. "Why are you doing this?" he asked when he'd recovered his voice.

She stopped again and looked at him. "I don't want you to end up like your brothers."

He was so angry he had to clench his fists tightly to keep from doing something he'd regret. He fought to make his voice even. "I am not like my brothers."

She stared at him, her expression as fierce and un­yielding as the lioness she was so often depicted to be.

He shook his head. "You're unbelievable. You'd let everyone on Earth suffer, so long as you get what you want."

"Do not try to make me feel guilty," she shouted, sparks of anger shooting from her emerald-colored eyes. "I will protect what is mine. When Re's life was in danger, did the Nile not run red with the blood of those I slew to protect him? Do you think I care about the lives of a few mortals compared to that of my only son? No, you will stay here-with me."

Her gaze burned with an intensity Darius had wit­nessed only a couple of times before, and though he knew she loved him, he also knew that she meant what she said. She was never going to let him leave. Ever. With his freedom went his entire purpose for be­ing. His life stretched out before him-bleak, desolate, and never-ending. He would spend the rest of his im­mortal life training for a battle he'd never fight, go to bed every night with no reason to wake up the next morning, pray for an end to his imprisonment that would never come. Even paradise could be hell if you were stuck there long enough.

Walking up to Sekhmet, he placed his hands on her arms and gazed deeply into her eyes. "Mother, there are two things you should know. I love you as only a son can love his mother. And I would rather die than be stuck in this prison of yours for all eternity." Then, in a move born of desperation, he yanked the orb from around her neck. Ignoring her cry of pain, he hurled it against the far wall with all his might, hoping if he de­stroyed the orb he could end his life.

The orb shattered against the wall with a burst of blinding light. Darius was barely conscious of Sekhmet's gasp as he waited for his life to end. The golden light drifted across the room toward him, spiraling slowly un­til it formed a Tain coil that eventually took the shape of a long, narrow serpent.

As it drew closer, the serpent began to twist about in the air, chasing itself in a figure-eight pattern until it fi­nally caught its own tail.

Darius glanced at Sekhmet and saw her face turn ashen. He knew right away that something was wrong, but before he could do anything, the coiled golden serpent touched his skin just over his heart.

Tendrils of power spread out and gripped him, growing stronger every second, pulling him. His mind started clouding over until he was barely aware of his surroundings. He was aware of shouting in the back­ground, but he couldn't make out his mother's words.

Almost beside him, a pinpoint of white light ap­peared and quickly grew. He recognized it as a portal and felt himself being drawn inexorably toward it.

"No!" his mother screamed, though he could barely make out her words. "Not this way. It must be restored ... vulnerable ... must protect. .." Her frantic voice faded, now sounding like it was coming from a far distance. "In ... physical love ... find ... pleasure ... forget .. "

Sekhmet's spell died in her throat and she found her­self alone in the audience chamber, staring at the spot where her beloved Darius had stood seconds before.

"Darius," she shouted. "I summon you to appear be­fore me." She held her breath and waited, her heart pounding. When he did not appear, she felt an icy fear grip her. His immortal life force had not been properly restored, and he was as close to' being mortal as he'd never been before. It was why Ravenscroft had ex­pelled him.

"Whitley," she called. She knew she had to do some­thing to warn Darius about his vulnerability, and she was hoping her levelheaded priest would help. She paced the floor, considering her options. She couldn't go herself-Re had made sure of that before he lost his powers-but once she explained the situation to Whit­ley, he might agree to let her send him back in a dream.

She heard the running footsteps of the man who had been her lover for thousands of years. It was ironic that she, a goddess feared by mortals and deities alike, would be afraid of the reaction of this particular man.

She quickly rehearsed what she'd tell him, stopping when she got to the part about the unfinished spell. Whitley, being a man, would not understand a mother's need to protect her child from the lure of sex.

How much of her spell had touched Darius before he vanished? Worse still, what would the ramifications be of the incomplete spell?

"Mistress, are you all right?" Whitley rushed into the room. When he saw she was alone, he dropped the pretense of being a mere priest and came to her, en­folding her in his arms. "What is it, my love?"

"Darius is gone. He broke the orb and was expelled to Earth."

"It's okay," Whitley consoled her. "He must protect the humans."

"No, it's not okay," she told him. "His life essence didn't absorb into his soul as it should have. Instead, it drew on his unique brand of magic and turned into a tattoo. He's lost his immortality, and there's no telling how it may affect the rest of his powers

"And he's just gone to Earth where a powerful evil is waiting for him." Whitley scowled at her, and she bowed her head in shame.

"It's my fault," she said miserably. "I only wanted to protect him."

"Call him back," Whitley ordered.

"I can't-I tried," she replied.

He glared at her. "Then send me back to Earth so I can warn him."

Doing so would make Whitley mortal again, and she couldn't bear to lose both her men. But it warmed her heart to know he was willing to sacrifice his immortal­ity for their son. "There might be another way, if you're willing to help."

"Of course I'll help. What do you need me to do?"

She quickly explained her idea, but when she fin­ished, she found she couldn't look him in the eyes.

Whitley was never one to push, so he remained silent and patiently waited for her to continue. Finally, she took a breath and looked up into his face, genuine tears in her eyes. "There might be one other problem."

CHAPTER ONE

The blaring noise of the alarm roused Lexi Corvin from a deep slumber, and she awoke feeling drugged and ir­ritable. She wanted to rip the offending timepiece from the wall and toss it through the window of her fifth-story apartment, but knew she couldn't afford to keep buying new clocks-or replacing windowpanes. So, instead, with great restraint, she merely slammed her hand down on the snooze button to quiet the ob­noxious noise.

Resisting the urge to go back to sleep, she cracked open her eyes and found herself squinting against the bright sunlight slipping through the curtains, giving the room a disgustingly cheery warmth that was at com­plete odds with her mood.

The week before a full moon was always hard on werewolves. Their animal side grew stronger, and they had an urgent need to foster reproduction. Translated into human terms, it meant she was bitchy and horny.

If she had still been living in upstate New York with her pack, she would have simply shifted to wolf form and spent the next week hunting prey and frolicking with the available males. That wasn't really an option anymore, now that she lived in the city. She had bills to pay, food to buy. That took money, and people who took off a week or two each month to be a"wolf" didn't hold jobs very long. She wanted to keep her job. It was the first one she'd had that particularly suited her. Bounty hunter.

Shoving back the covers, she dragged herself out of bed. She took a couple of minutes to stretch, trying to loosen muscles that had become tight and sore after chasing down four skips the day before. Crime in the city was up by staggering numbers, which meant busi­ness was good.

She crossed the bedroom and turned on the TV, flip­ping through the channels until she found the news. Lately, it was more depressing than ever. The world--­or at least her little corner of the Big Apple-was going to hell in the proverbial handbasket. Just last night there'd been another gang fight in Central Park, leav­ing five teenagers dead and another three seriously in­jured. In Murray Hill, a venerable neighborhood filled with old money, a fourteen-year-old boy had gone berserk and shot his parents and younger sister before turning the gun on himself. Down in Soho, a man had stabbed his girlfriend multiple times following an argument, killing both her and their unborn child. Plus, five more people were mysteriously missing-making a total of twenty-three in the last four weeks. The police had no more clues now about how the different peo­ple were related or what had happened to them than they did after the first disappearances. The number of random street muggings was up, as were the number of rapes, and the police were advising everyone to stay inside after dark-much to the annoyance of the local nightclub owners, who were fighting back by offering nightly specials.

Lexi flipped the station and watched a reporter standing outside the mayor's office giving an update on the rumor that the city officials were debating on calling in the National Guard to patrol the streets both day and night. But NewYork wasn't the only city suffer­ing, and the National Guard was already stretched thin. Lexi shook her head and turned to yet another channel, this time finding a TV evangelist asking his congregation to petition their government for stricter Conversion Laws because he felt the number of vam­...