His story confirmed what she’d learned from Gaynor and Culligan, but it didn’t explain how or why the cur had managed to steal four pureblooded Weres.

Regan turned her mind away from the past. She might never discover how Caine had gotten his filthy hands on her, and for the moment it didn’t really matter. All she truly cared about was finding some means of getting free so she could get to Jagr.

“If he’s so full of shit, then why have you kidnapped me?” she snapped.

His expression tightened with annoyance. “I didn’t intend to kidnap you. I went back to the cabin to capture Sadie. Of course, the bitch is never around when I actually need her.”

Capture Sadie?

Okay, that made about zero sense.

“I thought the two of you were packmates?”

“She’s as psychotic as Caine, and I’m not taking the fall for either of them.”

Regan shook her head. Obviously the spell bomb had left her as thick as a stump. She didn’t have a clue what he was yammering about.

And in truth, she didn’t really care.

Within minutes the sun would disappear. She had to get to Jagr.

“So if you wanted Sadie, why did you kidnap me?”

Yanking his hands through his hair yet again, Duncan paced the small clearing.

“I have to hope you’ll do.”

“Do for what?”

The cur halted, sucking in a deep breath before slowly turning to stab her with a hard, ruthless gaze.

“I want to negotiate a deal.”

“A deal with Caine?”

“No, Salvatore.”

Yep. Definitely thick as a stump.

“You…want to negotiate with Salvatore?” she at last managed to sputter. “Why?”

Resignation chased away the brittle arrogance, offering the first genuine glimpse of the cur.

“Because I’m weary of this suicide mission. Not to mention being Sadie’s whipping boy,” he confessed, his voice harsh. “I’m willing to trade everything I know about Caine and his plot against the lair if I can get a promise the Weres will offer me protection.”

Regan suddenly didn’t doubt his sincerity, just his sanity.

“Have you ever met Salvatore?” she demanded. “He’s not the forgive and forget type. I doubt a bit of gossip about Caine is going to change that.”

Duncan’s eyes snapped with fury. “Fine, if he doesn’t care about Caine, then what about your sister?”

Against her will, Regan’s heart halted, easily revealing to the cur’s sensitive ears just how much the information about her sister meant to her. Damn, she knew that the unwelcome emotions would be a pain in the ass.

She gritted her teeth. “You know where Caine’s holding her?”

He paused, as if considering a lie, then with obvious reluctance, confessed the truth.

“He moves her around a lot, but I know where most of his labs are hidden. It would only be a matter of time before you could corner him.”

Regan frowned. The information was just the sort of vague, unreliable crap that anyone could make up. Still, she couldn’t dismiss even a remote possibility of rescuing her sister.

She, of all people, understood that miracles could occasionally occur.

That didn’t mean, however, that the arrogant King of Weres would be willing to make a deal with the treacherous cur.

“Why would Salvatore trust you?” she demanded. “You’ve already proven to be a traitor.”

“That’s why I wanted to capture Sadie,” he growled in frustration. “I intended to hand her over as a gesture of goodwill, but you came out of the cabin instead of her. Now I have no choice but to hope that by not handing you over to Caine when I could have, I’ve proven my intentions are pure.”

She snorted. If Duncan’s intentions were pure then she was the freaking Queen of England.

“Yeah, right.”

He shrugged. “Okay, my intentions are completely self-serving, but if you want your sister back, I’m your best hope.”

Regan gritted her teeth. It might piss her off to give into blatant blackmail, but at the moment she’d do anything, including selling her soul, to gain her freedom and get to Jagr.

Besides, if there was even a remote chance that her sister could be rescued, then surely she should take it.

“Fine, let me go, and I’ll contact Salvatore…”

“No,” he rudely interrupted, his expression hard.

She struggled against the chains, ignoring the searing pain that jolted through her body. She’d endured far worse over the years.

“I don’t have time for this crap,” she hissed. “Release me or I swear to God Salvatore will be the least of your concern.”

He paled at the stark threat in her voice, but stubbornly held his ground.

“I need his word that he’ll give me his protection before I release you.”

“And just how the hell is he supposed to give you his word?” Regan narrowed her gaze. “Did you kidnap him, too?”

“The next best thing.” With two long strides, Duncan was reaching to yank aside a blanket that had been draped over a nearby bush.

Only it wasn’t a bush.

Her eyes widened in horror as she recognized the tiny gargoyle currently encased in stone.

“Levet,” she breathed, her gaze shifting to stab Duncan with fury. “Damn you.”

“He’s not hurt. In a few minutes he’ll awake and he can contact Salvatore directly.”

Her brows snapped together. “He’s a gargoyle, not a cell phone.”

“All gargoyles, no matter how tiny, can open a portal in another’s mind.”

She grimaced at the thought of that strange rip in space that Gaynor had conjured opening in someone’s head.

“Ew.”

Duncan regarded her with a hint of surprise, as if startled she could be so clueless.

“Not a physical portal. More like a…wireless connection. Which means it can’t be overheard or traced even by magical means.” His hand absently lifted to stroke the amulet hung about his neck. “No one will know about this call except the three of us and Salvatore.”

“Paranoid much?” she muttered, feeling stupid she hadn’t known about Levet’s skill.

He glared at her taunting, his expression tight in the thickening shadows.

“You haven’t met Caine. He might be a mystical freak, but he’s smart as hell and he has his personal spies everywhere. There’s never been anyone who’s tried to double-cross him who’s lived to tell the tale.”

About to inform the cur that Caine couldn’t begin to compete with Salvatore when it came to ruthless cunning, Regan was distracted by the unmistakable crack of stone.

Turning her head, she watched in awe as the granite crumbled from the statue image of Levet to reveal the gargoyle beneath.

“Sacrebleu.” With a mighty shake, Levet rid himself of the clinging bits of stone, waddling forward and waving his arms in anger. “You mangy, lice-ridden dog, I’m going to…” Belatedly spotting Regan tied to the tree, Levet widened his eyes in alarm. “Ma cherie, what are you doing here? Are you harmed?”

“What I am is pissed off,” she muttered.

Levet frowned as he glanced around the island. “Where’s your vampire?”

Regan turned to glare at Duncan. “He’s waiting for me and he’s not going to be happy if I’m late.”

Duncan planted his fists on his hips. “Get the gargoyle to contact Salvatore, and you’re free as a bird.”

She ground her teeth, knowing she was between a rock and a hard place.

Of course, a voice whispered in the back of her head, it wasn’t the first time.

Hell, it wasn’t even the first time today.

And with her luck, it wouldn’t be the last.

“Christ.” She turned her attention to the wary gargoyle. “Levet, I need a favor.”

Chapter 16

Despite Jagr’s grim determination to keep the howling demons at bay, the passing hours began to take their toll. Pacing the cramped prison, he felt his powers being ruthlessly drained even as the walls seemed to close in around him.

Memories of the endless years of torture seared through his mind, clenching his muscles until he was curled into a shuddering ball in the corner.

At last, not even the image of his beautiful Regan could hold back the hovering insanity.

In desperation, Jagr sank into the deep, death-like sleep only a vampire could achieve.

The comatose state left him vulnerable to attack, but it conserved his strength and, more importantly, it muted the black rage that threatened to consume him.

He was unaware of the passing hours. At least he was unaware until the soothing blackness was stirred by the sound of approaching footsteps outside his cell.

Slowly he allowed his consciousness to rise back to the surface, careful to keep his body perfectly still. At a glance he would look like a corpse, no heartbeat, no pulse, not even a breath. It was an ability that had served vampires well over the years.

Who would fear a dead man?

There was a scraping at the door, almost as if whoever was on the other side was unfamiliar with the lock. At last, there was a distinctive click and the door slid open.