by Keri Arthur
Besides, while I didn’t doubt either the fighting skills or the determination of the reapers, they were still outnumbered two to one. I needed to keep as much strength on hand as I could, because once the attention of the Raziq was no longer held by the reapers, some of those “spare” Raziq would undoubtedly come after me.
I took a deep breath that really did little to bolster my courage, then said, Yeah, do it.
The lilac flames retreated instantly. I waited, tension rippling through every particle, ready to flee the instant anything remotely resembling an attack headed my way.
Nothing happened. I didn’t relax, however. Just because they weren’t attacking didn’t mean they soon wouldn’t.
“We both know the fates would never sanctify such an action.” Contempt filled Malin’s tone. “This place is sacred. They hold no jurisdiction here.”
“They have always held jurisdiction here.” Azriel’s voice was flat, unemotional. But his need to kill—to avenge not so much what Malin and her crew had done in relation to the keys as what they’d done to me—was so strong I could almost taste it. Yet he held it in check, and I had no idea why if he had the fates’ permission to deal with the Raziq.
Because, he said, the fates would prefer not to shed blood in this place. She is right in that it is sacred. Therefore, the Raziq have one chance to walk away. As much as I hope—pray—they do not, I will not gainsay the will of the fates. Not when I now have so much more at risk.
Meaning me. God, why the hell had it taken me so damn long to realize what I’d been searching so long for had been right in front of me the whole time? Why had I wasted so much time being afraid and not trusting instinct and emotion when it came to him?
That is a question I have often asked myself. Though his mental tones were touched by wry amusement, there was no evidence of it in his voice as he added, “The fates have not seen the necessity of interfering until now, Malin. But your actions endanger us all.”
“My actions will free us. And that is all that matters.”
“As ever, you do not see the bigger picture. You are too bound by your own dreams and desires.”
He made a slight motion with his hand, and the dark energy covering the Raziq trembled and quivered, as if assaulted by a very great force. Then, with little fanfare, it faded, and the Raziq were finally revealed.
It was the first time I’d actually seen them, and they were—like most Aedh—almost terrifyingly beautiful to behold. The ten men were uniformly tall, with broad shoulders, muscular physiques, and faces that were as close to perfection as creation ever got. The nine women had the bodies of Amazons and the faces of angels, and they all had golden hair that glowed as fiercely as the wings on their backs in the diffused light of the fields. Their eyes—which varied from lilac, like mine, to vibrant blues or the richest of greens—were so filled with power it was almost impossible to meet their gaze for any great length of time. But there was little in the way of life or warmth in their expressions. All that could be seen was either remote condescension or utter contempt or—in Malin’s case—outright animosity and hate.
For an unemotional being, she sure did seem to be displaying a whole lot of emotion.
Malin laughed. The bitter sound echoed uneasily across the temple’s grounds. “And I suppose that little demonstration is meant to cower us?”
Azriel’s answering smile was cold. Ferocious. “It was meant as nothing more than it was—an unveiling of evil.”
“Reaper, I grow bored of you.”
And with that, she attacked. Not Azriel. Me.
I swore and dove out of the way, but the bolt was too fast, my reaction—and Amaya’s—too slow. The energy hit with all the force of a hammer. It pinned me, flayed me, ate at me, until it felt as if there were thousands upon thousands of tiny maggots boring into my skin.
I screamed, but the sound was lost to Amaya’s screech of fury—a sound that was accompanied by a more masculine roar. The energy flaying me abruptly cut off, even as energy flared from Amaya’s sides and encased me in a protective shield of lilac. I didn’t immediately move; it was all I could do to drag in air, to not scream in pain as Malin’s energy continued its munching even as it dissipated.
Up! Amaya’s screech was as painful as those fading remnants. Move must!
I forced my eyes open, saw five Raziq barreling toward me, and swore—though the words came out little more than a harsh scrape of sound. Beyond the five, in an incandescent cloud that sizzled and cracked with such force that it shook the surreal buildings and burned the air, Azriel and his reapers fought the other thirteen Raziq.
Malin was nowhere to be seen.
Runs. Amaya’s mental tones were scathing. Coward much.
Malin didn’t strike me as a coward. If she was running, then she was running to something rather than from us.
I had a bad feeling I needed to stop her from reaching whatever it was she was running for. But before I could do that, I had to deal with the Raziq coming at me.
I pushed to my feet, my breathing harsh and sweat trickling down my spine. I might not be flesh in this world, but my energy form seemed to react in the exact same way. Maybe it was simply a form of muscle memory—my being reacting in the only way it knew how.
Drop the shield, I said. We can’t risk the constant pull at our strength.
Stronger we should be, she muttered, as the purple haze of energy retreated.
Yes, we should, but to get stronger I needed time to relax and regroup—and that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Not until I dealt with the Raziq and the keys.
Even then, there was no guarantee of a long and happy life, simply because I still had to find the sorceress, and I was still left with Madeline Hunter. And she, in many ways, was the worst of the lot. She wasn’t only one of the leaders of the high vampire council and the head honcho of the Directorate, but also—quite literally—a monster wearing human flesh who apparently had a direct line of communication to the god she worshipped.
She was also, unfortunately, a monster I worked for.
But Hunter was a problem for another day. I had to survive this one before I started worrying about anything—or anyone—else.
Count to three, then move sharply left, I said, then raised Amaya and flung her hard.
The approaching Raziq scattered left and right, as I figured they might. Amaya jagged left and flames shot from her sides. They swiftly ensnared one of the Raziq, bringing him down even as they cocooned him. He writhed, screamed, fought, all to little effect. Amaya chuckled, the sound triumphant as she consumed her prey.
Bolts of energy shot toward me. I ran, swerving around to the right, the bolts nipping at my heels. Sparks spun around me, fierce and bright in the gray.
Amaya arrowed around and slapped back into my palm. I raised her above my head and leapt high, twisting in midair and slashing wildly at the nearest Aedh as I flew over him. I hit the ethereal ground, rolled to my feet, and spun around, my sword held at the ready. The Aedh I’d struck had stopped. Completely stopped. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t reacting. Wasn’t doing anything.
Then light began to gleam from the top of his head, a sliver of brightness that gradually lengthened, growing ever wider as it crept down his neck and then his spine, until he was no longer whole but two separate halves.
We’d split him asunder.
Deserved more, Amaya commented, her mental tones indignant as the two halves of the Aedh began to disintegrate. Consume should have.
Even you can’t eat them all.
Bet can.
I snorted, then jumped sideways as several more bolts of energy came at me. I threw Amaya to scatter them again, then ran like hell, my gaze sweeping across the temple’s grounds. I spotted Azriel and relief filled me. He was still standing, still fighting, though his torso bore several wounds that gleamed with ruddy fire. Others had obviously not been so lucky. The reaper numbers were down to six, but the Raziq had suffered greater losses—only eight now stood. Thou
gh that meant the odds were more even, it certainly didn’t ease the tension curling through me. It wasn’t over yet—not by a long shot. As long as even one of them lived, neither of our worlds would be safe.
Amaya thudded back into my grip, heavier than before. She’d obviously consumed another Aedh. The back of my neck crawled with awareness. I swung around, Amaya raised high. Bright steel met energy, and the resulting explosion sent me tumbling backward.
I was still rolling when a rope of energy hit me, winding itself around me, then pinning me in place. I couldn’t move, couldn’t raise Amaya. She hissed and shot flames out from her sides; they crawled across the line of energy holding me captive, spitting and sizzling as she battled to free us both.
It wasn’t going to be soon enough. The remaining two Raziq of the original five who’d been sent after me were coming. Not only could I see them, but I could feel their determination to make me pay—suffer—before they bent me to their will. And I knew that once again they intended to unravel the threads of my being—only this time, when they put me back together, they would ensure I could do nothing other than obey them. Fear bloomed, thick and fast, its taste so bitter that bile rose in my throat and threatened to choke me. I swore and struggled against the bonds holding me captive, desperate to get free.
Two serpentine forms—one winged, one not—shot out of the ether. Azriel’s headed for the two Raziq, while mine swept me up, rope and all, and carried me away from the battlefield and out of immediate danger.
The Dušan will take you to Malin, Azriel said. She is up to no good.
Malin is more than I can handle alone, Azriel.
Perhaps, he agreed, but rest assured she will not find you so easy to kill now—not after inserting her own DNA within you.
When the hell did she do that?
When she tore you— The rest of the sentence was ended by a grunt. Pain flickered down the mental lines, and I knew he’d been wounded again.
Damn it, Azriel, you need—
To finish what I started here, he cut in, tone fierce. As much as I might wish otherwise, I have been tasked with ending the Raziq. I cannot—dare not—do otherwise.
I glanced down. My Dušan wasn’t taking me to the gates—which was where I’d half expected Malin to be—but rather over the external temple buildings and into the inner sanctum. It was a place that would have rejected my presence—and probably killed me outright—if not for the bracelet I now wore. It was black string twined with a silverish thread, and it had an almost ghostly glow. My father had given it to me to chase the sorceress, and its presence on my wrist was the only reason I had access to both his private quarters and the more sacred areas of this place.
I guess that was two good things he’d done for me.
Malin’s a Raziq, I commented. And you have permission to deal with them.
But she is not mine to end—the fates were clear on that, if nothing else.
The fates, as usual, were being damned unhelpful. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the fear that sat like a stone in the middle of my being. Damn it, I didn’t want our child to grow up without his father!
He won’t. I am injured, but nowhere near expiry.
Well, make sure you stay that way! The bright structures below were less impossibly shaped than before, yet even more ethereal. There was no sign of Malin, however. But what has Malin inserting her DNA in me got to do with it being less likely that she can kill me?
You are now a creation of three races—werewolf, Aedh, and reaper. It gives you strength and power not only in your world and mine, but here, in the one place Malin thinks she has no equal.
I frowned. But I can’t do what she—
You can, he cut in again, if you apply yourself and believe. She may have had aeons to understand and use the power of this place, but she is no longer the more powerful.
And what of the remnants? Will they help me if you happen to be wrong and it all goes to hell in a handbasket?
The remnants have not yet intervened because they have had no need to. But they assisted you the last time you were here and they will do so again, if you actually call. They can no more ignore you than I can.
I snorted. That remark can be taken two ways, reaper.
And both would be true. There was a brief edge of amusement in his mental tones. Now, go. I must concentrate.
The mental line shut down, but I could nevertheless feel his presence; it was a soft buzz of electricity that would flare to life the minute either of us wished it.
The Dušan began spiraling down. Soon we were gliding through canyons that were deep but not shadowed, thanks to the incandescence of the sturdy buildings that soared high above us.
Eventually, the Dušan slithered to a halt at the base of a building that was egg shaped and had a lustrous pearl-like sheen. The sheer force of energy radiating off it made my soul shiver in fear. This place, whatever the fuck it was, was both ancient and powerful. More powerful than anything or anyone I’d ever come across—even the gates to heaven and hell themselves.
The Dušan raked a claw through my body, cutting the cords that bound me without hurting me. I scrambled to my feet as the bindings fell away, then raised Amaya. She was hissing like a banshee, and the sound echoed uneasily across the silence.
Have said before, calling banshee an insult, she muttered. Am better.
Yeah, you are, I agreed. Sorry.
She preened at that, and her noise died down to a background scratch. I scanned the building from left to right, but the surface appeared unbroken by either windows or doors. There had to be some way of getting in, though. After all, the Dušan had been following Malin’s trail and this was where we’d stopped.
With little in the way of options, I stepped forward and pressed a hand against the building’s luminous side. Warmth pulsed under my fingertips. It felt like a heartbeat, and instinct suggested this place was oddly alive and aware. I shivered and hoped like hell this was one of those occasions when instinct was wrong.
As the pulsing got stronger, light began to flare softly across the building’s warm surface. Ripples of energy rolled away from my touch, growing ever stronger, until the whole building seemed to shimmer. Then a black crack appeared to the right of my fingertips. It bloomed rapidly across the surface, until it had formed an inky stain the size of a basketball.
In, Amaya said. Hunt we must.
I’m not going to fit—
Will, she cut in. Believe.
Azriel had urged the same thing, but it was kinda hard to do when the world kept sending you into a tailspin. But again, it wasn’t like I had a lot of other choices, not if I wanted to stop Malin from doing whatever she intended to do inside this place.
I gripped Amaya tighter, closed my eyes, and imagined myself arrowing through that circle.
Energy tingled through me; then there was a brief sense of movement. I opened my eyes and saw darkness. Complete and utter darkness. Not even Amaya’s flames were able to break the depressing weight of it. But I could feel her warmth in my hand, and that was at least some comfort.
I glanced over my shoulder and noticed that the Dušan was still outside, her serpentine form flowing back and forth across the entrance hole I’d created, her agitation evident in every lilac inch.
No come, Amaya said. Outside must stay.
“Well, that’s damned inconvenient,” I muttered, although it wasn’t entirely surprising. The Dušan hadn’t been able to enter my father’s quarters, either. “Any idea where the hell we’re supposed to go in this ink?”
Something, Amaya said. Hides.
My grip on her tightened. Is it Malin?
Tell not, she said. Black heavy.
Where?
Left. Find will.
Yeah, I thought grimly, but will it be us finding her, or her finding us? And how the hell was I supposed to fight in this goddamn ink?
You will tell me if I’m about to crash into something, won’t you? I said, and flowed forward cautiously.
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Something suspiciously like a chuckle ran across the rear of my thoughts, although she didn’t actually answer. I held her out in front of me, so that if I did run into something, she’d at least hit it first. We moved through the ink for what seemed like hours, but maybe that was a side effect of having absolutely no sensory input, and no clue as to what might lie underneath night’s cloak.
Here, Amaya said eventually. Stop.
I did so and once again scanned the blackness around us. I still had no sense of anything or anyone . . . and yet, there was an oddly different feel to the air here. It felt . . . anticipatory.
Damn it, I needed to see!
Then lift, Amaya said.
Lift what? I took a step forward. Movement stirred the ink, and it wasn’t mine.
The dark.
I took several more steps forward. Again there was an answering echo of movement, and a deep, oddly unclean energy began to stir around us. It stung my being, the sensation unpleasant. I can’t lift this, Amaya.
Try can, she muttered, displeasure heavy in her mental tones.
I took a deep breath and released it slowly. Azriel might have implied that I could use the power of this place if I applied myself and believed, but the whole trouble with that was the fact that I had no idea where to begin.
In mind, Amaya said. Will do.
Meaning all I had to do was imagine? That sounded entirely too easy, especially considering absolutely nothing else on this goddamn quest had been. But I resolutely closed my eyes and imagined the ink was nothing more than a suffocating fog. Then I pictured a breeze coming through and scattering that fog, revealing what lay underneath. I fixed the image firmly in mind, put as much belief into it as I possibly could, and literally willed it to happen.
For several heartbeats, nothing did. Then a strong breeze began to play through my particles and there was an odd sort of shift, as if the whole place had somehow moved. I opened my eyes and saw darkness.
