Dark Gate Angels Complete Series Omnibus

by Ramy Vance

  That was more than upsetting. There was hardly anything that she enjoyed anymore. Murder and mayhem were pretty much it. Each death reminded Rasputina that she still was alive in some way. Even if she was meaningless, she wasn’t going anywhere.

  The door creaked open and Bennington stepped into the room, treading silently. He peered at Rasputina, whose eyes were wide open. “Mistress?” he whispered so softly that she almost didn’t hear him. “Are you still awake?”

  Rasputina reached out. “I’m scared, Benny. I don’t want to go to sleep.”

  Bennington took her hand and rubbed it lightly. “You don’t have to sleep. Mistress. You can get up. You can do whatever you want.”

  The lich didn’t need him to tell her that, but it helped to be reminded. She sat up and pulled her covers close to her neck. “Something isn’t right, Benny. Something is off.”

  The butler sat down, crossing his legs and leaning back as he spoke. “What do you think it is, Mistress? What do you not have?”

  Rasputina looked down at her hand, the skin still rotting, her bone poking out from underneath. “Why am I like this? What happened to me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  She tried to speak, but nothing came out except a choking sound. A fire was creeping in the back of her head, and she couldn’t fight it. It hurt. Her whole skull felt like it was vibrating. She pitched forward, clutching her chest as she started to cry.

  Bennington waited quietly until the tears stopped.

  Rasputina stared blankly ahead, drool trickling down her lips. After fifteen minutes of waiting, he left his mistress, who peered into the darkness dumb and silent, running from whatever pursued her deep within her mind.

  The lich did sleep eventually, but her sleep was not empty. She dreamed of being trapped underground. It was dark. Her body hurt. Nearly all her power was gone, drained out of her. She looked around, trying to find the source of her suffering.

  Two bright white eyes peered out of the darkness at her—the Jotuun. Its voice rumbled in the black pit. “You’ve returned to me, my ward.”

  Rasputina whirled, looking for a way out of the darkness, but when she tried to move, her body wouldn’t respond. “No, I’m free. I’m not back there. I’ll never go back there.”

  The white eyes moved closer. “You had such potential. Such vast knowledge. What you decided to do with your power? Disgusting.”

  Rasputina looked at the demi-god, confused. “What did I decide to do?”

  The lights floating in the darkness brightened until there was nothing else.

  Rasputina woke up screaming and tearing at her skin, peeling it off in ribbons. She plucked out her eyes, tossed them across the room, and flung herself to the floor, screaming as she writhed in agony, pulling bones out of her body and throwing them against the wall. “What did I do?” she wailed. “What did I do?”

  Once the tears and screams subsided, Rasputina lay silent, not even bothering to go through the motions of breathing. She didn’t need to. Her body was dead, and she felt less human than usual. Blood did not pump. Nerves did not relay. The only active things in Rasputina were her magic and her mind.

  After some time, she stood and stumped out of the room. “Bennington!” she shouted.

  “Right here, Mistress.”

  She jumped at the sound of her minion’s voice and looked by the side of the door. Bennington was curled up in a ball like a dog waiting for its master. “You called?”

  “Come with me. I need an extra set of eyes.”

  “Uh, Mistress, you don’t have any eyes.”

  Rasputina felt her empty eye sockets. “Hm, I wonder when I did that.” A new pair of eyes started to grow in the empty spaces. “Don’t sass me, Benny! Now come on!”

  Rasputina, followed by her minion, went to her study. She tore through the room, tossing books and furniture about until she found what she was looking for: a small silver cauldron.

  She set the cauldron in the middle of the room, then went to a bookcase in the corner and pulled down a vase. “What is that, Mistress?” Bennington asked.

  Rasputina looked at him, her face eerily blank. “My brain.” She opened the vase and poured its contents, thick, silver liquid, into the cauldron. “After the first hundred years, it all just went to mush, but I couldn’t get rid of it. There’s…a lot of me in there. Or the old me. Either way, it didn’t seem like a good idea to just leave it on the floor. Brains have a lot of uses, like this, for one.”

  The lich reached into the chasm in her chest and pulled out a rib. She smoothed it and transformed it into a wand, the tip of which she dipped into the cauldron, stirring the ooze of her decrepit brain about. “There are answers to questions I’ve forgotten in here.”

  Rasputina withdrew her wand and flicked a pool of silver on the floor. The liquid started to tremble as if the earth were shaking, then it shot up, taking the form of a small child with the deepest black hair and wide, curious eyes.

  Bennington watched the child, which was not moving or breathing, closely. “What is it, Mistress? The same you made before?”

  Rasputina walked around the silver child. “No, last time it was a version of me. This…this is simply a memory. That was what I looked like from that time in my old life. Come here, Benny, and give me your hand.”

  Bennington did as he was told and clasped the lich’s skeletal hand. Rasputina pressed her wand to the silver child’s forehead.

  There was a flash of bright light, then they were in a small wooden hut with a thatched roof.

  The child Rasputina was sitting at a table covered with books. Her nose was buried in their pages. Two adults walked into the cottage and took a seat at the table. The child didn’t bother looking up.

  Bennington looked at Rasputina. “Are those your parents? Did they neglect you?”

  She shook her head as she walked around the scene at the table. Her father leaned over and kissed the child on the forehead. “No, they loved me. A lot. I loved them too.”

  The child reached around, trying to touch her mother without taking her eyes off the book. Her mom slowly pulled the book away from the child instead, and the little girl pouted. Her mother planted a kiss on her forehead.

  Rasputina took a seat at the table. “They loved me so much.”

  The two parents coaxed child Rasputina out of her chair, and soon, the cottage. The lich and the butler followed the family as they stepped outside.

  The cottage was one of dozens resting in the cradle of an idyllic hill town. The homes were nestled against moss-covered mounds, and occasionally there was a house of a halfling, which was carved into the hills, breaking up the charming, colorful cottages.

  It was the middle of the day, and many of the villagers were out. The child ran up to nearly every person she saw and greeted them as her parents took their time, eventually joining the conversation. This was the fashion in which they traveled through the village until they came to the baker’s.

  Rasputina took her time following the memory of her family. She found herself watching the villagers, admiring the homes, and breathing in as much air as she could. She’d forgotten how sweet air could be. There was a lot she had forgotten. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at her like her parents or the villagers.

  Bennington watched as the child's eyes grew wide with wonder at the baker working his magic over the oven. “Mistress, what happened?”

  She shook her head as she watched the child shoving fresh bread into her mouth. “I don’t know.”

  There was a bright flash, and Rasputina and Bennington were back in her study.

  The lich sat down in front of the cauldron. “There wasn’t anything bad there, ever. No one hurt me. They all…everyone loved me, and I loved them, but I feel like they’re the reason I’m this way.”

  She dipped her wand back into the cauldron and tossed another pool of silver on the floor. This time, the brain matter took the shape of a version of Rasputina in her twenties.

 
The lich stared at the younger version of herself. Then she grabbed Bennington and touched the young woman’s forehead.

  A flash of light. Rasputina and Bennington were in a larger cottage. Candles covered the walls, bookcases, and tables. And there were many bookcases. Every inch of the walls was covered in books, and there were piles all over the floor.

  The cottage was empty, and Rasputina wandered around, looking at the home.

  A scream interrupted the tranquil scene. The lich whipped around, trying to find the source of the terror.

  The door burst open and a small child came running into the cottage, screaming and laughing wildly. She was chased by her mid-twenties self and a burly man with a beard that covered most of his face.

  The young woman scooped the child up and held her tight to her chest as the burly man pulled a deer into the cottage. “Who’s ready to get started on dinner?”

  The child squealed and ran around the house as the woman sank into a chair, brushing her long black hair out of her face. She yawned as the child scrambled up her leg. “You two make sure to clean yourselves up when you’re done.”

  The bearded man leaned over and kissed the woman on the forehead. “Will do. Good luck with your research.”

  As the bearded man walked away, he started to cough, a terrible hacking sound as if he were trying to expel his lungs through his chest. He leaned over, bracing himself against the wall as he heaved.

  The young woman peered at him until the coughing ended. Then she turned to the book on the table and opened it.

  The lich and Bennington watched as the young woman read, occasionally standing and casting spell after spell without a wand, conjuring vials and iambics into existence, boiling a variety of liquids throughout the night until the bearded man and her daughter returned with the butchered deer. “Ready to cook?”

  The child squealed again, giggling as she ran into the kitchen.

  The bearded man sat down and held his chest as he stifled a cough. “How’s it going?”

  The woman sighed, closed her book, and waved away the tools of her experiments. “Badly. I can’t find anything, not here, at least.”

  “You talked about going away for a bit. There’s that mage college you kept bringing up, the one that wizard came down from.”

  Young Rasputina shook her head. “No, it’s too far. I can’t leave you two here, and there’s no promise that I’ll find anything.”

  The bearded man started coughing again, and gripped the table until his knuckles were white. The young woman reached out and took the bearded man’s hand until the coughing stopped. “Maybe it’s best if I stay here with you.”

  “Don’t stay for me. You’re the best alchemist and sorcerer this village has. You’re the only one who’s going to be able to put an end to this. Don’t stay because of us. I’ll take care of the whelp. Now let me get started on that dinner.”

  There was a flash, and Bennington and Rasputina were back in the study.

  The lich pulled a jar from one of the bookcases and scooped the puddle into it. Then she dipped her hand in the cauldron and poured a handful of the silver ooze on the floor. She grabbed her butler and stepped into the puddle.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Memories came at Rasputina faster than she could handle. At first, they were only blurs that made her nauseous, swimming in the indiscernible goop of the past. Eventually, the memories slowed, and she could piece them together bit by bit.

  The quick ascent to her power. It would have been praised by every mage, wizard, witch, and sorcerer alike if it had not resulted in the creation of a lich. She watched the past version of herself scaling a mountain and fighting through hordes of giant crablike creatures until she came to the summit, where she found three ancient mages.

  They promised to give her power beyond her wildest dreams for the small sacrifice of a few years of her life force. She agreed without hesitation.

  But it wasn’t enough. She returned to her village and was still unable to heal the villagers from the blood plague. She didn’t stay long. Kissed her husband and daughter goodbye and took to the road again.

  Next was the journey to the gnomish wizard Goreal, who dwelled deep within the drow caves. The gnome gave her tomes of ancient knowledge that held stories of plagues come and gone and recipes for their cures. It took nearly a month to gather all the materials needed to create a cure. When Rasputina returned home, she administered it to all the villagers. There was no response.

  From there, she traveled across the land to the far reaches of the East, where she found an elvish wizard who promised immortality. When Rasputina figured out how to bottle it, she returned to her village. Two women died in their sleep from the plague that night.

  Rasputina watched various younger versions of herself sitting on their bed, pacing their bedroom, and crying for the lack of anything else to do. She’d acquired much magic and knowledge, but none of it was enough to save her people.

  The memories coalesced into one Rasputina, sitting in bed, reading. The door creaked open and the small child walked into the room, holding a bloody napkin and coughing. The child crawled into her bed and rested her head on her lap.

  When the woman awoke the next morning, the child was dead, cradled in her arms.

  From there, Rasputina slipped further and further into her own world. She left nearly immediately, and she did not stop traveling, following stories and rumors of greater power.

  When she finally stopped, it was at the tomb of the necromancer Zell. Rasputina stole into the cursed mage’s tomb, which descended into the very bowels of the earth. She fought through all manner of magical traps and creations, slaying a crystal golem that guarded Zell’s final resting place with a simple word of power.

  There was no body within the tomb, only a book. The woman camped in the tomb that night, having spent two weeks working her way through it.

  Within it, Rasputina found a way to defeat death, and it was simple—profane but simple. For the next three months, she hunted down the ingredients for the spell. She performed crimes she would never want to repeat, yet the lich watched these events with no feeling whatsoever.

  Finally, the day came. The woman led a unicorn by a rope around its neck to a grassy knoll where candles were lit and three jars stood upon an altar covered in a crimson shroud.

  She recited the profane words in the language of the damned, tasted them on her tongue, inhaled them deep into her body, and then she slew the unicorn, bending over its open throat and drinking deeply of the silver blood that poured from its wound.

  Then she laid down and waited. Something moved in the woods around the knoll. She knew it was coming for her. It was what she had summoned.

  The woman dared not open her eyes, but the creature came. It reached deep inside the younger Rasputina and pulled out her soul, breaking it into three pieces, one for each of the jars. Then it kissed her on the forehead.

  The ritual was complete. The woman opened her eyes and looked around. She left the unicorn’s body to rot, not even bothering to give the creature a funeral worthy of its dignity.

  When she returned to her village, there was hardly anyone left. A few of the children remained, but that was all. She found her husband’s body in their bedroom, the bony fingers clutching a tattered blanket.

  The woman held the blanket in her hand. She had spent a summer learning how to sew. Now it was all that was left.

  The memories disappeared. The lich sat in the puddle for a moment before waving her hand and causing it to float back into the cauldron.

  Bennington unbuttoned his shirt, exposing his chest. “You may torture me if you’d like, Mistress. It might make you feel better.”

  Rasputina shook her head. “Bring me the jar on the bookcase.”

  Bennington did as he was told and placed the jar in front of her.

  Rasputina poured the contents out in front of her and sat there, staring down at the pool. “Leave me.”

  Memories enveloped her. She wa
tched as her younger self cuddled in bed with her husband and daughter. James, that was his name. And the child…she was Lily.

  The lich could almost feel their breath against her skin. Then she felt something wet and very real. A tear had formed in the corner of her eye, and it fell, streaking her face. More quickly followed.

  Bennington, who was not caught in the lich’s memories, watched as his mistress blankly stared into the water, weeping for the first time in hundreds of years.

  Rasputina did not know how long she’d been watching the memories from this part of her life. It felt like a year had gone by. She watched herself wake, sleep, breathe, love, and cry. If she could only reach out and touch James’ face or hold Lily one last time.

  The lich looked down at her hands. Even if she could have held Lily, the little girl would have run screaming. Rasputina was a monster and she knew it, even more so now that she had been reminded of what she used to be.

  Lily, who was playing in the living room as James whittled quietly, suddenly looked up at the lich. “Mommy, who is that?” she asked, pointing at the lich.

  The lich took a step back, holding her hand to her chest. There was no way they could see her. This was only a memory. The past. Something to be hidden away and never thought of. It could not interact with her.

  James looked at the lich and gasped before jumping from his chair and scooping Lily up in his arms. “What evil is this?”

  The younger Rasputina calmly walked into the room. “Don’t be afraid.” She took Lily from James and sat down at the table. “She’s here to talk.”

  The lich took a step toward the table. “You can see me?”

  The woman nodded. “Yes, I can see you. I would have hoped that I aged better. Take a seat. James, you might want to leave for a little bit.”

  James nodded and reached for Lily.

  “No,” the woman said. “Leave her with me. She should see this.”

  James grunted and left through the front door.