She opened her eyes and looked down to find her right hand still held the gun. But her left hand now held something too. It was a gold pocket watch. It was William’s pocket watch.
Helena was caught up in the spell now and did not waste time wondering how the intricately beautiful device had found its way into her possession. Instead, she recognized it at once, knew exactly how it worked, and popped it open with an expert press of her thumb. The gold lid snapped ajar with a sweet, perfectly crafted sound, revealing the intricate workings of the Time Realm within.
Any mortal looking upon the open watch would see only what they expected to see – twelve numbers on a dial, two hands, and a face of pearl or gold or some equally valuable material. Helena, however, saw so much more.
The numbers were there, though they warped and wavered with the many written numerical languages of the multiverse. And beneath this layer of numbers were the workings of an astrolabe, ancient and infinitely functional. Beyond the astrolabe was another layer. And just past that was another.
They stretched through the dimensions, keeping the Time for a thousand billion worlds and marking everything that had ever been, and everything that would ever be.
Helena peered down at the mechanisms and smiled. “Well what do you know?” she asked softly. “It’s Time.”
With that, the watch emitted a telling green glow, and magic more ancient than the history of magic itself poured from the tiny clock and into Helena’s hand. It moved through her like a blessing, filling her with a warmth that was almost too hot and a power that was very nearly too much. But she absorbed the Time magic, and just as she did with all of the magic that was swimming inside her now, she redirected it into the shining metal object in her other hand.
Chapter Fifty-nine
William was again attempting to send a mental call to Katrielle when Ahriman used the distraction of the attempt to land another solid blow. It had happened so many times, William was beginning to wonder whether the Nomad were toying with him. He felt like Charlie Brown with the football. And he really wanted to take off Lucy’s head.
Katrielle was going to die if she continued sustaining that shield. But the Nomad wasn’t answering to simple mental communications any longer. Either she was too wrapped up in the hard magic of keeping the damn thing up, or she was hurt. Out of commission. Maybe dead. He could no longer sense her where he’d left her behind the copse of trees either, so that last option was weighing heavier and heavier on the scales of possibility.
He could have blinked out of one place and transported to her location if he only knew where she was. He didn’t dare reach out to one of the other Queens with his new information to see if they could go after her. The Queens were busy cooking something up; he could feel it. And he would do nothing to alter that. But he had managed to contact one of the other Kings. Kristopher Scaul received his message and would have tried to find the old witch if it hadn’t been for the tentacle that shot through the ground, wrapped around Kristopher’s ankle, and pulled him under the earth.
The Winter King simply vanished beneath the soil and grass with a cut-off cry of surprise and a cloud of ice dust that coated everything in a ten foot radius. Then he was gone.
Whatever monster had taken him was yet another of the souls pouring through the door Helena had opened when she’d manipulated Time in the alternate dimension. That door had yet to be closed, and the beasts kept coming. The one good thing he could say for the shield was that it seemed to be acting like a beacon to the worst of the monsters, drawing them there to that field in Illinois rather than allowing them to roam free in the mortal world.
Not that a number of them wouldn’t get out and cause trouble anyway. There was sure to be some of that. But the majority were here, either on the field, lurking about below it like the one fighting the Winter King, or flying above it as floating gas balls and tiny dragons. And that would end as soon as the shield fell.
This was a lose-lose situation. They were damned if it came down, and Kat was damned if it didn’t. But he had to at least warn her. She had a right to know they were using it to kill her. So he put more force behind his mental call, effectively turning it into a kind of seek-out-and-deliver spell.
Casting a spell in the middle of a fight always slowed you down – and Ahriman was there to take advantage of it every single time William tried. He was on his third attempt when the field lit up with twelve individual, miasmic balls of glowing energy.
William recognized them at once, and just like that he knew what the Queens had been planning. The glowing orbs were the coalesced and prepared powers of twelve magical Queens. He reached out for his own Queen, choosing to touch her mind this time around instead of seeking out the Nomad’s.
He found her at once – she was directly above him – and she was scared out of her wits.
He looked up to find her floating steady and still, surrounded by her own brand of ruby dark magic. She was haloed like a godsend in the moonlight, and she still held her gun in her right hand. He noted the weapon because it, too, was glowing.
Helena.
She opened her eyes, but Ahriman attacked before William could meet her gaze. William fought off the bastard, and the moment he felt Helena’s gaze on him, he gained the upper hand, shoved Ahriman away, and looked up to capture her eyes with his.
He knew what the Queens had planned now. The idea was brilliant, in more ways than one. William knew he had little time. So he told her it was up to her now and then told her to end it.
He was beyond weary of this struggle, but he would not let his opponent see as much. The Nomad locked his arms around him in an attempt to knock him off guard, but William was not born yesterday. He’d had nothing but time to train, and he countered the attack, saw them both to the ground as he tripped Ahriman up, and they rolled for several bumpy feet.
That was when the floating balls of magic erupted into hard, full streams of power that shot up and over the field directly for Helena’s floating form.
Now both Ahriman and William looked up.
William’s pocket watch was in Helena’s left hand. He stared at the watch, and a multitude of heart-hammering emotions went through him at the vision. Truths and realizations came with it, confirmation that he was no longer alone in this unending rule, but that he was no longer the sole target for the danger that came with it, either.
The watch was open – only William had ever been able to open it until that moment – and its magic was feeding into the Queen with fast purpose. William had never seen anything like it, and he couldn’t even imagine what it must have felt like to Helena. He knew where the magic was going, what it planned to do.
But he wasn’t the only one looking on. Ahriman’s ancient gaze locked on the woman up above them all as her glowing form filled with the power that had the potential to wipe him off the face of the map, and the Nomad reacted. William grasped the man’s hand when it flew up, his obvious intent to flick Helena from the sky the way he’d managed to move the mobile home earlier.
But William slammed that hand into the ground hard, and Ahriman grunted from the pain of the impact. His eyes were still burning red fires, and now those fires now jumped and doubled in size as if gasoline had been poured on them. William felt the Nomad’s power swell beneath him.
The Kings had always wondered whether Ahriman were different from the other Nomads. They were all a powerful breed, but Ahriman, the Entity, had nonetheless felt separate from them. More powerful.
Staring down into the man’s eyes then, it hit William why.
Ahriman was the first. He was the first Viatorem, the very first Nomad ever to be created.
The recognition struck William like a ton of bricks. Ahriman was the first Traveler to wander the halls of existence. And he’d done so alone. For eons.
He and William Solan had something in common, and it happened to be the most important thing.
No wonder, he thought, staring down at the man in a new light.
&n
bsp; Ahriman stared right back. But it was several long beats before he said, “What would you do for your Queen, Solan? Would you destroy the world for her? If she truly needed you to?”
Yes.
He would destroy a hundred of them. Hell, he’d already destroyed two – made them crash into each other, anyway. But he didn’t have to say any of this aloud. Ahriman read the answer in his gaze.
“That’s what I thought,” the Nomad hissed. “So now at last you understand. I would do anything for my love.”
William empathized so well in fact, it was like he was Ahriman for a moment. Amunet was the Nomad’s sole salvation. She was the end to his loneliness. It was a loneliness so vast, only William could fully comprehend it.
But it was that comprehension exactly that had his grip tightening around the Nomad’s wrist. “And I would do anything for mine.”
Ahriman gritted his teeth and roared, bucking so hard beneath William, he managed to throw the Time King off him entirely. William hit the dirt and was instantly on his feet again. There was a furious scramble as he tried with all his might to immobilize the Nomad, using every trick he had in the book. But Ahriman was different from the others. He was older, and he was much more powerful, and in this final desperation to save the woman he loved, the Traveler finally managed to spin away from him for a single, precious second.
That second was long enough. It was all it took.
The Nomad looked up at his target and his arm swept across the sky. William knew the barrage of power was stronger than anything he’d ever used before, and it was meant to swat the fly in his proverbial chardonnay once and for all.
Chapter Sixty
She knew what she had to do. She was damn lucky Minerva had managed to warn her not to use her last two bullets. She would need them both.
But that was all it would take. And then this would be over.
Helena waited for the last of the vast stream of magic to enter the gun’s chamber, then she raised her head to take aim at the man attacking her King. But she never had a chance to pull the trigger. Just as his horrible red gaze met hers, a bolt of hardened power struck her in the chest with such force, she was knocked senseless.
Darkness engulfed her. Distantly, she felt herself moving and sensed the numb jarring of the impacts her body must have endured, but it was separate from her, ripped away from her consciousness by Ahriman’s blow. She waited for the darkness to pass, but it stayed firmly wrapped around her. So she waited in the darkness for her sight and hearing to return, but they were taking their sweet time.
At last, she wondered if she might be dying.
“Nah, you’ll live,” came a deep voice that sliced through the silence, opening it up wide.
In the darkness, Helena frowned. She recognized that voice, and she hadn’t expected to ever hear it again.
Sheer curiosity alone at last forced her to open her eyes. She was in the dirt again, blades of grass once more slicing through her blurred vision. But when she looked up over them, it was to find that Cain the First Vampire had taken a knee beside her… and he was holding her gun.
For some reason, the first thing out of her mouth was, “Damn. I dropped it.”
Cain chuckled, the beautiful sound infusing Helena’s body so hard, she closed her eyes again. She felt drunk. Ahriman had done something to her. Something wrong. Evil magic coursed through her veins, disrupting her blood cells and the power within them. She was having a hard time focusing on anything at all.
What did he do to me? she wondered.
“He knows he can’t kill you,” said Cain. “So he’s trying to put you out of commission.”
Helena blinked back up at the vampire. He looked the same as he had not an hour ago, when she’d sent him back to 1968. But he also looked different. Same hair, same striking blue eyes, same towering build. Different clothes, different boots, more leather.
And there was an edge to him now that spoke of experience. Which was odd, since he’d already been thousands of years old. This was just a different kind of experience.
The gun seemed natural in his grip where he held it safely pointed away. It looked like it fit him. But Helena knew the bullets inside were uniquely precious. They’d been infused with the magic of all Thirteen Queens. She had a job to do and almost no time left to do it in.
I can’t let everyone down.
“You also can’t stand,” said the First Vampire with a sexy smile. Helena’s gaze narrowed. Was that true? She tried to move, and at once more of the drunk sensation washed through her, extreme dizziness and all. The ground tilted, and she tried to grab it and hold on.
“He got you good,” said Cain. “Lucky I came along.”
“Luck, aye, and magic yae mean. Yae got here early, yae daft fool.”
Helena’s eyes flew open wide. Holy shit, she thought. I know that voice too!
“It’s a good thing I did,” replied Cain easily. She heard him stand beside her. “Ahriman hit her hard.”
“Yae’re right about that. This is a boner of a spell.”
She felt someone else kneel beside her, and again she tried to look up. “Lucky?” she whispered through her dizziness. A wavering face came smiling into vision.
“Aye, lass,” the leprechaun said. “It’s mae. But don’t yae move a muscle. I’ll have that magic negated in no time. Just rest.”
“I can see that she rests eternally if that’s what you –”
A third voice came to Helena, this one female and vicious. Amunet had entered the scene, and now Helena really wished Ahriman’s fucking spell would leave her alone so she could get to her damn feet and pull the damn trigger. But all she could do was lay there and listen as the Nomad woman obviously stopped dead cold when she saw Cain.
Helena felt Lucky’s hands on her. Fae magic instantly began to infuse her, filling her up like clean water that washed away the fuzziness and weakness inch by inch.
“Cain?” asked Amunet shakily. She sounded confused. Uncertain. Hurt, even.
Cain the vampire said nothing. Helena wondered what he was doing, but he was out of her line of sight.
“But I… I don’t sense you here, son,” continued Amunet, her voice growing tighter with emotion. Maybe she thought she was seeing a ghost. Or maybe she thought she was imagining this and she’d simply gone mad.
No, Helena thought. People that crazy never admitted it.
“What are you?” Amunet finally asked, her tone fully tightened now and hard as nails.
Helena opened her eyes as the last of Ahriman’s spell was counteracted and she regained full control over her body. Her vision was no longer blurry either; she met Lucky’s sparkling dark gaze.
He nodded a small nod, just once, and she understood. She needed to take the gun and shoot, damn it. End this.
But the moment she sprung to her feet and reached out with her telekinetic version of The Force to bring the gun to her, Amunet spun and slammed her with yet another bolt of hardened power. This one sent Helena sailing into a nearby tree, where she scraped by it just enough to peel more skin from her body, utterly mess up her hair, and ruin her plan.
From where Helena landed, she looked up through her nest of hair, leaves, and tiny broken branches just as Cain raised the gun instead.
Amunet slowly turned around to face him. Her amber burning gaze slipped to the weapon in his capable grip. She must have known what waited inside. Maybe she could feel it, because her face went very pale, and her body went very still.
“Cain…” she whispered, palpable and immeasurable pain filling that one word so full, it hit the brim and spilled over.
But he still said nothing. And when he at last pulled the trigger – that pain was put to rest once and for all.
Chapter Sixty-one
The shot rang out through the field like a firecracker, louder and more exacting than any other sound that night. William knew at once what it was. The sound echoed through the chambers of his mind, followed by the hollow ringing of something
big having just gone down.
Something monumental.
Ahriman had his arm against William’s neck. But he stilled in the aftermath of the sound, and the arm went slack. The monsters on the battlefield stopped fighting. The entire universe seemed to hear the gun’s mighty report. The shield beneath William’s back warped underneath him, its cracks and fizzling, electric fissures sealing up tight, as the spell that created it was immediately reinforced by the lack of opposing magic.
Ahriman went very still before William. Their eyes met in silent and horrible understanding. Then the Nomad’s arm fell away from him and Ahriman stepped back. In the next instant, the ancient Entity was gone.
William pushed off the now whole-again shield and sent out his mental feelers like a whip. He had Helena’s location fast as lightning, and just as quickly he locked on to it and transported to her in a blink. When he emerged from the transport, he found himself facing a scene he honestly had not expected.
Helena was just getting slowly to her feet after having obviously been thrown around some more by Nomad magic. But she wasn’t alone. Lucky the leprechaun of all people, was there with an arm around her waist helping her up. Neither of them glanced his way. Both sets of eyes were reserved for Amunet.
The female Nomad’s lifeless body lay in a final heap on the forest floor. An errant spring breeze moved softly through one of her blonde curls. Ahriman the ancient Nomad stood over her fallen form.
But more confounding even than the leprechaun was that it wasn’t Helena who had pulled the trigger and fired the fateful round to end Amunet’s life. It was Cain.
The First Vampire stood motionless and stoic several feet away, his right hand wrapped firmly around the grip of Helena’s .357. He appeared just as he had when he’d attacked William not an hour earlier. And he also looked very different.
It was as if he’d somehow been a child then. And now he was a man.
Ahriman ignored all of them, his face expressionless. Slowly, he bent to one knee beside his fallen bride and used the backs of his fingers to gently brush a lock of hair from her forehead. She appeared to be sleeping. But dead people always looked like that.
The Time King (The Kings Book 13) Page 33
