The Gaolers.
They didn’t just harvest criminals. They collected any threat to the Lore, including sick vampires. If Mina had been gone this long, she had to have left her mist, growing corporeal. Which meant she’d been vulnerable to otherland dangers.
Like the plague.
Cas had brought those collectors down upon New Orleans, the same place Mina had last been seen!
Trehan materialized into the room. All cool arrogance, he leveled his green eyes at Cas. “Precisely the demon I wanted to see.”
Cas’s muscles tensed, his chest bowing.
“I’d considered you a misguided whelp but not inherently flawed—until you committed such an idiotic act. If not for your reckless stupidity with the crystal, my niece would be safe in her home right now, instead of lost in a world she is woefully ignorant about.”
At best. And Cas had had the nerve to bust Mirceo’s ass for rashness? “You’re going to take me to Dacia.”
“You have no right to go there.”
Horns straightening with fury, Cas said, “My mate’s there. I have every right!”
“Yet you’ve been separated from him during the most painful trial he’s ever known?”
Cas’s gut clenched. “Are we going to do this again, leech? I’m much stronger than I was last time.” For centuries, the need for revenge against this male had shaped Cas. Finally they would finish what had been started so long ago!
Bettina hastily said, “Trey, he’ll go demonic to reach his mate—and he’s five hundred years older than he was before.”
Trehan wasn’t concerned whatsoever. “Presumably with hundreds more deaths under his belt? Then the whelp might present a modicum of challenge this time.”
Cas bared his fangs. “Thousands of deaths. And I’ll add yours to the list if you don’t take me to Mirceo.”
“Please, you two!” Bettina cried. “I’m asking you not to do this.”
Now that he and Trehan were more evenly matched, a battle could last for hours. Days even. Cas burned to make him pay for that beating—but he burned even more hotly to protect his mate and his sister-by-fate.
Cas had paid dearly for his years of wisdom and discipline. Though he’d used neither when dealing with Mirceo before, he would endeavor to do so now.
Bile rose in his throat. “Damn it, we don’t have time for this.” Only one move left to me. Cas bit out: “I am asking for your . . . help. Please, vampire. Trace me to my mate.”
Bettina gaped at him, and even Trehan looked taken aback. Both would know how difficult saying that had been for Cas.
Two weeks ago, those words would have been impossible.
He gritted his teeth, prepared for Trehan to heap on more humiliation. Though Cas hadn’t begged for anything since he’d been a pup, he would to reach Mirceo. His damaged pride, his searing disgrace, his need for vengeance—none of that mattered in the face of his family’s wellbeing.
“My gods,” Trehan said with a look of wonder, “you must love the hell out of my nephew.”
Cas gave a curt nod.
Bettina nibbled her bottom lip. “Please, Trey.”
As Trehan gazed at his wife, emotion made his eyes flicker black. “You know I can deny you nothing, draga mea.” He turned to Cas. “Very well.”
Huh? “Just like that?”
“The past is done. Besides, without the scry crystal, we are in sore need of a skilled tracker.”
Bettina ran to her husband’s side. In a breathless voice, she said, “Thank you, Trey!”
The vampire grasped her hands. “I will take Caspion now, but I ask that you remain here. Things are volatile in the Dacian court.”
She hesitated. “Okay. This time.”
“I shall return soon.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her palm that made her face flush. “Await me?” he asked, somehow imbuing those two words with layers of carnality.
She breathlessly nodded.
Releasing her with reluctance, he grasped Cas’s elbow. “I must warn you. Mirceo’s appearance is much changed.” He teleported them into Dacia’s court, off to one side of the immense and echoing room.
Cas caught sight of Mirceo, and his chest constricted. His mate’s skin held a deathly pallor, bruises marked his face, and his clothes billowed on his wasted frame. He looked as if he would crumble under the weight of gravity at any second.
Standing beside a shackled and gagged prisoner, Mirceo gazed up at Lothaire—the red-eyed king—with a defeated expression.
What was happening? The tension between them was so taut it seemed to reverberate. Figure it out later. Cas readied to trace—
Trehan clamped his shoulder to prevent him. “Lothaire has been in rare form these last few days,” he said in a low tone. “If you’d like to survive this day, I suggest you stay out of his way.”