The sweet salt of the air tickled his senses. He breathed deep the crisp perfume and held it in his lungs for as long as he could stand it before exhaling once again. How he loved it here. How he wished he could stay exactly like this forever.
But he of all beings knew that nothing, absolutely nothing, could last forever.
Tryton leaned out farther over the deck railing, looking hard into the depths of the blue ocean water. Slowly, he reached forth with his hand, extended his index finger, and traced lazy whorls into the air. The water reflected the motion, then mimicked it exactly. It began to spin and twirl, gently arching up in long slender tendrils of liquid that tangled and spun into elaborate designs—like knots or lacework made of fine glass, longingly reaching for his fingers as they danced.
If anyone else on the mammoth Alaskan fishing boat had seen such a thing they would have been frightened or doubtful of their own sanity. There would be an outcry. No one would believe the ravings of the witness, the shrieks about magic and dancing water. But Tryton would have had to make his stay very short indeed, for he was already regarded as a strange and mysterious man among the other crew members.
With a last smooth wave of his hand, Tryton released his control of the dancing water, watched it fall with a splash back into the ocean, and sighed wearily. He knew it was almost time to go back home. He could feel it, like a tic beneath his eye. He’d spent far too much time away already. There were so many loose ends that needed tying up before he could disappear again. Truly disappear. He needed to get back and see that everything was prepared for his “death”.
And how long would he stay dead this time? How long would it take his people to forget about him, so that when he reappeared again it would be as if he were a stranger—a lost warrior that had been separated from his people by some chance or mistake? How many times had he done this already? He could no longer remember.
Far too many times to count, that was how many times.
Perhaps this time his people wouldn’t need him to come back. Maybe this time he could stay dead for good. The Daemon Horde had been dealt a very serious blow, their ranks greatly diminished, their leader missing for many long centuries, maybe even dead. Without Lord Daemon to raise their ranks, the monsters had no source of power, no spark of life. Perhaps now, with victory inevitable, Tryton could truly rest. His people no longer needed him in this fight. He was ready to let them go.
And he was so tired. So very tired of this endless struggle.
The world of humans was so large, so vast, that he could simply disappear into it forever with none the wiser if he wished to. What a dream. What a life he could lead, in secret and in peace. But always there was this feeling of responsibility and debt to his people. He was largely the cause of the many long centuries of chaos and unrest after all. If not for him, the Shikars might still be part of the surface world, part of the land of sunlight.
No, he could not abandon them. He would not. He owed them so much. This life of war and struggle that the Shikars led was his fault. He would always be there to help them.
Unfortunately for him, always was a long, long time. He supposed he could take his own life…but that would be dishonorable and he was nothing if not a slave to his own honor. He should have died eons ago. But he hadn’t. Now he feared that he was a true immortal. Whatever he’d done in that past, he’d paid in full and then some…and yet still he lived. He might very well live until the end of the world.
This was his greatest fear. And his fondest wish. He loved life after all, truly he did. He just hated the war and the strife that came with it. For no matter how old he was, no matter how wise he should have become over the years, he still made mistakes. And he dearly felt the cost of each and every one of them.
The cool spray of the water splashed against the warmth of his sun-darkened face, carried to him on a sudden, strong gust of wind. Damn it all, he wanted the embrace of that water. He wanted the long, healing sleep. It had been so long since the last time. The water called to him, like all the sweet, delicious lovers he’d been unable to resist over the years. The water promised him peace, for however long he should need it. He could not resist.
He climbed up onto the railing, closed his eyes and held his face high into the last fading rays of the sun, and calmly stepped off.
A strong hand clamped down upon his shoulder.
Tryton’s eyes flew open and stung, but the stinging had nothing to do with the wind or the sea spray. He felt such overwhelming emotions that he almost struggled against the delaying hand.
But he didn’t.
Tryton knew he was well and truly caught. Damn it. There would be no quiet solace in the water. No lazy walk upon the ocean floor as he’d enjoyed so many times in the past, looking over the ruins of ancient cities he’d helped to build. No gentle embrace of liquid. No sleep.
No rest.
The Shikars needed him, called to him. And there was nothing he could do but go to them.
The scent of the salt spray and the warmth of the sun disappeared entirely, replaced with the cold, endless burden of his duty. Of his destiny.
“Hello Grimm,” Tryton sighed, the soft sound taken on a breeze and carried off to somewhere far away.
“Hello my friend.” That voice was magical. It should have belonged to an angel or a devil, not a man. It would have lulled him somewhat, if he’d let it. “It is time to go back now.”
“I know,” Tryton sighed. “I know it is.”
“We need you.”
“Yes.” Everything went gray.
And the sea was gone from him again.
* * * * *
“I began to think I would never find you.”
“I was not ready to be found,” Tryton said frankly.
“I am sorry.”
Tryton looked at his most trusted friend and ally, The Traveler, also known as Grimm the Wanderer, Grimm the Invincible, Grimm the Legendary and—more recently—The Grimm Reaper or Reaper Man. He looked as calm and controlled as ever, but there was something more to him now. An urgency crawling just below the surface that no one would notice, unless they knew him as well as Tryton did.
“I know you are truly sorry, and I thank you for it,” Tryton nodded solemnly. “What has happened?”
“Much. And there is much that will happen, or so I am warned.”
“Tell me what you can.” Tryton leaned back into the deep cushions of his chair and stared deep into the flickering flames of the fire that burned in the hearth of the great stone fireplace in his public sitting room. He could still smell the salt on his skin, feel the warmth of the sun radiating from his body…he did his best to ignore it.
“Cady and Obsidian were attacked on a recent visit to the surface world, by yet another new and very powerful breed of Daemon. They were almost killed.”
“But they have recovered?”
“Not through any effort on our part, but yes they are well.”
Everything was forgotten—the sea, the sun, the earth’s fresh air—as Tryton felt a cold shaft of foreboding race down his back. Every hair on his body rose with foreboding. “Whose efforts saved them then, if not ours?”
“Two men. Strangers by all accounts. They appeared on the battlefield after Obsidian had been—” he hesitated, as if unsure. And Grimm was never unsure. Tryton frowned, willing him to continue. “After Obsidian had been killed, and Cady was nearly ready to follow him into death. They revived Obsidian and healed our Cady. But that is not all.”
Tryton closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He feared he already knew what would come next.
“One of the men had your face. According to Cady, the similarities were so striking, he could have in fact been you. I’m not entirely certain she’s ruling out the possibility that it was you.”
Tryton shuddered. “Damn.”
“I cannot track them, I have already tried. They are cunning, and it appears they do not wish to be found.”
“Two of them?”
“
Yes.” Grimm stood so still he could have been made of stone.
“What did the other look like?”
“We don’t know. Cady says he’s Shikar, or like us enough to have our eyes.”
All Shikar shared the same eyes, except for the more experienced members of the Traveler Caste. Travelers like Grimm. Spending too much time wandering between worlds seemed to change them somehow, both their spirit and their eyes—the very windows to the soul. Grimm’s eyes were black as death, but tiny pinpoints of light shone here and there like glittering stars. Grimm’s eyes had been like that for centuries now, but Tryton could remember a time when they had been filled with the same golden fire that burned in his own eyes.
Those days had been much happier ones. Tryton wished now that he had held on to them longer, cherished them and reveled in them for as long as he could. But alas…it had been he, himself who had changed that simple happiness into struggle and worry. Everything that had gone wrong, all of it, was his fault and there was nothing he could do now but regret it.
“This is unexpected,” Tryton murmured. “Two of them.”
“That is not the only reason I’ve searched for you. I have had a vision.”
This too-bland statement surprised Tryton into forgetting for the moment the worry of the strange man who looked like him. “About all of this, about Obsidian and Cady?”
“No. About something else.” Grimm paced again, clearly full of barely restrained energy. “Raine came to me in a dream. And she came with a warning.”
“Raine again,” Tryton frowned, wondering. “What can the Shade of a human woman have to do with any of this—with any of us?”
“She was Steffy’s friend and Emily’s sister. Perhaps she still feels those ties, even in death,” Grimm offered. It was an old discussion between them by now.
“I think it is more.” Tryton studied him closely, then broached the subject that had been on both their minds, thought neither had spoken of it. “She is dead, my friend. You cannot be with her. A love between you is impossible.”
“I know that.” Grimm’s voice was so quiet, so soft, that Tryton had to strain to hear it.
Tryton let the sensitive issue rest, but he knew it would continue to plague them both. Grimm was in far too deep with the ghost of Raine already, the heartache had only just begun. “What was her warning?” Tryton urged his friend onward.
“The Horde is stirring again, despite our last battle which should have decimated their numbers. The Daemons that attacked Cady and Obsidian were incredibly strong, unexpectedly so. I do not think their leader is letting go of this fight, I think he is making new, even more powerful monsters. And now he is unleashing them. Raine told me they are moving to capture a human woman, in less than a few hours from now. I wasted precious hours to find you, but Raine told me you were necessary to save this woman, to prevent her capture.”
“They mean to capture her?” he started. “You’re sure?”
Grimm nodded, his hair shining like blood in the light. “Just as they intended to capture Emily, before she mated with Edge.”
“But why capture them? In all these years, the Daemons have only fed on humans. Why would they need to take them alive? What purpose could that serve?”
“Perhaps Lord Daemon has some nefarious plans for the women,” Grimm mused aloud, “though how that might endanger us or help his army, I couldn’t say. I’ve never understood his mad reasoning.”
“But if he means to continue this fight, why did he go missing for so long? Why come back now after withdrawing his power from the Daemons? And why did he sa—”
“Tryton!” Cady, the first human-turned-Shikar, raced into the room. She skidded to a halt, eyes wide with surprise—and not a little wariness, given that the last time she’d seen his face her husband had been dead and she had been close to the same fate. “My god, you’re so dark! And your hair is so blonde it looks white. What in the hell have you been doing all this time, buying out QVC’s self-tanners?”
Tryton let the words he’d been speaking to Grimm die away. He smiled at the small, curvaceous woman whom he considered a great and dear friend and tried not to think of the dark days that surely lay ahead. “Cady, my dear, you look radiant.”
“She carries my babe again,” Obsidian, Cady’s Shikar Warrior husband, proudly announced as he joined them. “So of course she would look thus.”
“That is indeed good news,” Tryton exclaimed, rising to envelop Cady in a warm, heartfelt embrace. “Congratulations.”
“You didn’t answer my question,” Cady pressed stubbornly, suspiciously, even as she heartily returned Tryton’s hug. “Where have you been and what have you been doing?”
“Will the others be arriving soon? We have precious little time to spare,” Grimm interrupted their reunion with that eerie, dead calm that was uniquely his.
“We’re here.” Edge strode into the room, his wife Emily at his side. Directly behind followed Steffy and Cinder. The entire team—Tryton’s team of seemingly invincible warriors—was assembled.
“We haven’t much time, so I’ll be brief. There’s much I need to tell you. Much I’ve kept from you for far too long. But something—someone—has forced my hand and now you must all know the whole of the truth. Firstly we have a mission and we cannot fail or it will be disastrous,” Tryton informed them hurriedly.
“What must we do?” Obsidian, ever the fierce warrior, cut straight to the heart of the matter with no preamble.
“There is a human woman in danger of being hunted and captured by the Daemons—”
“Niki Akitoye,” Emily whispered at once.
Tryton nodded solemnly. “Your sister’s Shade told you as well, I see.”
Grimm said nothing, merely looking into the flames of the fire in the hearth as if all the answers to their questions could be found within the flickering depths. If he was surprised or disappointed that Raine had felt the need to visit someone else besides him, he didn’t show it.
“We have to find her,” Emily said simply.
“And we will,” Tryton said, the wealth of confidence in his voice more for their morale than his own. He had had long years of practice in keeping all of his worries and doubts to himself. “As soon as The Traveler tells us where to find her.”
Grimm raised his head, black eyes sweeping over everyone in the room. He slowly adjusted his cloak, raising the hooded cowl to hide his features. “She’ll be at the Seattle airport. But we have to hurry or we’ll miss her getting off the plane.”
“There is no way the Daemons could attack in such a public place,” Edge interjected.
“Are you sure that’s where Raine told you to find her?” Tryton asked Grimm, managing to keep his own skepticism from showing in his voice—but only barely.
“Raine told me that Niki would be crossing the Mississippi. But I…” he faltered, but only long enough for Tryton to notice the telltale hesitation. “I just know that she is headed for Seattle. I cannot explain it. I just know it.”
“I do too,” Emily offered immediately. “I think Raine might have told us that somehow, without her having to say it. You’re right, Grimm, we have to go to the Seattle airport—we can’t just pop in on the plane en route to get her, after all.”
“You are right, that would be impossible. Let us join hands everyone,” Tryton commanded. “We will all wait for her in Seattle.”
“You’re going with us?” Cinder asked with no small amount of surprise.
“He has to,” Emily murmured with a perplexed frown and puzzled eyes, as if wondering how she also knew that bit of information.
“For whatever purpose, Raine thinks I should go. And so I will. She has yet to steer us wrong and I can do no less than to trust her in this.” But Tryton wished it otherwise. It was dangerous for him to venture out into the open field of battle like this—like a red flag waving before an enraged bull, the Daemons would sense him, and they would be moved to take action.
But when had he not lived in
constant danger? If not from the Daemons, then from the discovery of his own people. No matter how many things changed over the centuries, one thing still remained the same.
He could not escape this conflict.
No matter how hard he tried, it was inevitable that it eventually end.
Grimm reached out. They all joined hands and prepared to Travel. To meet their destiny together.
“Wait! Wait!” A breathless Desondra—one of the Shikar females, wife to a brave and well-respected warrior named Zim, and aunt to Cinder—burst into the room at a sprint. “There’s been something horrible,” she gasped for breath, “something absolutely terrible has happened—wait!”
“Holy fuck,” Steffy shuddered. Tryton eyed her, knowing her precognitive abilities—even stronger now that she was a Shikar instead of a mere human—gave her an edge like no other. Without being told further he knew this did not bode well, for them or for the mysterious Niki Akitoye.
Steffy’s eyes burned into his as she met his gaze, as if she’d known he’d be looking back at her expectantly. He felt his heart plummet.
“We’re already too late,” she whispered.
Chapter Three
She knew her eyes were open and yet she could not see.
The last thing Niki remembered was the turbulence. Not too strange a thing, given that she’d been soaring thirty thousand feet in the air and yet…it had been such a clear day, no clouds or rain showers in sight around or below the airplane. And the shaking and shimmying had been enough to trip the flight attendants in the aisles. Maybe it had been a little strange after all.
What had happened? Had they crashed? Was she dead? Was that why she couldn’t see anything, did souls even need sight in the afterlife?
A sharp pain in her head as she shook it made her realize she was still alive after all. What a gyp it would be if one could still feel pain in the afterlife! No, she was still living. But if she wasn’t dead, what had happened and where was she exactly?
Lord of the Deep Page 2
