“You’re right. You don’t need them. Soon, you’ll wield abilities beyond your wildest imagination.”
She perked up at the thought of new power. “What abilities?” And how soon?
“You won’t know until you’ve shed your first skin for your second,” Blythe told her. The black-haired, blue-eyed beauty smiled and—Taliyah gasped. Her irises! Specks of black shimmered in their depths. “If you’re like me, you’ll push your spirit from your body, possess others, communicate with the dead, walk in the spirit world to spy on your enemies and recover from any death...even your first.”
Her first? She zoomed her gaze to the weapons. Realization punched Taliyah, leaving her winded. Her family planned to kill her and raise her as a phantom.
Warring impulses surged, one after the other. Flee. Protest. Cheer. Die? In the end, she bit her tongue and remained silent. What mattered more than her dream? To walk in the spirit realm and spy on her enemies, to recover from death...
She would do anything. There’d be no greater General.
“I, too, fight for the right to rule,” her cou—sister said. “When the time comes, the two of us will be forced to battle for the honor. But it will be a fair fight. Fair and right.”
“Fair and right,” Taliyah repeated with a nod. “But I’m still going to win.” Facts, and all.
Blythe gifted her with another grin, there and gone. “We shall see.”
“Like your half sister, you will only ever use your new powers in secret.” Her mother’s harsh statement cut through the night, the slightest tremor shaking her. “Erebus and Chaos have enemies who will stop at nothing to apprehend and use you, if ever your identity is discovered. Do you understand? For all we know, the gods themselves will want you dead.”
Though she feared nothing, Taliyah offered a clipped assertion. When had the Vicious ever trembled? “I understand.”
Satisfied, her mother lifted the fireiron sword. The dark metal glinted in the moonlight. “Are you prepared to die to become the phantom you were meant to be, my daughter?”
No! “I...am?” Though she hadn’t yet lived a decade, Taliyah had already participated in two major battles. The first with Sent Ones—winged assassins of the skies—and the other with wolfshifters. She’d watched friends enter the hereafter in the most painful ways, helpless to save them.
If dying today meant better protecting harpykind tomorrow, so be it.
Harpies today. Harpies forever.
“I am,” she offered with more confidence, jutting her chin.
“So be it.” Her mother repositioned into a battle stance, and Tamera and Blythe followed suit. “May your end serve as your beginning.”
That said, Tabitha shoved the fireiron straight into Taliyah’s heart.
Searing pain exploded through her. Blood rushed up her throat and out her mouth, choking her. All thoughts of dying for a cause vanished, survival instincts kicking in. Taliyah fit shaky hands around the hilt and pushed outward. Can’t breathe. Need to breathe.
“May your loss serve as our gain.” Without a shred of mercy, Aunt Tamera thrust the demonglass next to the fireiron.
More searing pain. More blood gurgled from the corners of her mouth. Weakness invaded her limbs, and tears welled.
“May your return serve as an eternal reminder. Death has lost its sting, the grave has lost its power.” Blythe slammed the wooden stake beneath the other two weapons.
The agony! Excruciating and unending. A loud ring erupted in Taliyah’s ears. So cold. Dizzy. What little remained of her strength abandoned her in a rush. Already hobbled, she fell.
Impact rattled her brain against her skull—a skull quickly wetted by an outpour of her blood. All she could do was peer up at a spinning night sky. Dazzling stars beckoned her closer...
She fought. She fought hard, because she couldn’t not fight. Warped by the blades, her destroyed heart raced. Slowed. Until...
It stopped.
Taliyah wheezed a final exhalation, every muscle in her body going lax. Maybe she died, maybe she didn’t. A part of her remained aware, but without time. She floated in a sea of darkness, the barest pinpricks of light blinking here and there, reminding her of the stars. All pain faded.
As the sea carried her farther and farther away, panic set in. She wished to return to her family. She would return. Taliyah renewed her struggles, kicking and clawing.
Blink. Blink. Fighting harder. Lights flared faster and faster, whizzing together. Harder still. Finally—
Taliyah gasped, her eyelids popping open.
Her mother hovered over her, a calculated smile blooming. “Congratulations, daughter. You are officially the second royal harpy-phantom in existence. You’ll do great things or you’ll die again trying.”
2
Realm of the Forgotten, a semisecret dimension
Thousands of years later
A bare-chested Taliyah perched on her knees—willingly. A first-aid kit waited at her side. Her best friend had just pierced her nipple, claiming, “It’s your lucky piercing. It’s going to save your life, I swear!”
Since her best friend Neeka was a harpy-oracle who’d never given a wrong prediction, Taliyah believed her.
They occupied a spacious suite in a luxurious fortress. A master bedroom with glowing crystals that dripped from the ceiling and a beast-skin rug that stretched before a crackling hearth. Furniture made from the bones of wicked men acted as a daily reminder to enjoy the little things. Family created the artwork, an eclectic mix of so-called awards Taliyah’s sisters had given her and masterpieces her only niece had painted.
“A pro hack for permanently scarring an immortal. Make sure the victim—er, recipient—isn’t a screamer.” Neeka the Unwanted stood near the crackling hearth, waiting for the branding iron to finish heating. Firelight cocooned her, illuminating curly black hair, gorgeous brown skin and whiskey-brown eyes.
The beauty received the less-than-stellar Unwanted sobriquet centuries ago from her wretch of a mother. Neeks had barely learned to walk before an enemy raided their village and stabbed her in both ears. Too young to heal from her wounds, she remained without hearing for the rest of her immortal life.
“Why do I need this scar, anyway?” Taliyah asked. “Is it going to save my life, too?”
“Something like that.”
Well, it couldn’t hurt any less than her stars.
After graduating from harpy training camp, Taliyah had issued a formal pledge to compete for the title of General. At that time, a mystic had imbued her left wrist with ten invisible stars. From then on, a star had darkened every time she’d successfully completed a task. The agony of a star’s emergence compared to nothing. A way to weed out weaklings, she supposed.
“By the way, thanks for not killing me when I learned your secret heritage,” Neeka said.
Yeah. Her friend uncovered the truth. But then, Neeka’s father was an oracle who specialized in secrets and mysteries, so of course the girl had figured it out. Kill her for it? No. “Sometimes I want to shout the news to the world. My résumé of abilities has a wow factor, and people have a right to know.”
As a snakeshifter, she mesmerized and cast illusions. A skill she used to spy on any enemy at any time; it also explained her phantom ability to dematerialize, becoming as insubstantial as mist. A few drops of her toxic blood could slay many immortal species and most humans. When she wasn’t wearing an enchanted ring—which was never—she heard phantoms through a mystical connection. Or rather, she heard their screams. The ring saved her sanity.
“You know what you need?” Neeka asked, a familiar glint lighting her eyes.
“No! Do not tell me I’ve got to have—”
“A commemorative piece of jewelry to mark this auspicious occasion!”
She groaned. Being cooped up and bored, Neeka liked to pass time making jewelry. So m
any beads. The rhinestones. Oh, the rhinestones. Ten of the most gaudy necklaces dangled from her friend’s neck. An array of bracelets climbed up both forearms. Rings decorated every finger.
“No more jewelry.” Please!
“Fine. Be that way,” the girl huffed. “But you’re going to wish you owned a one-of-a-kind piece featuring real, genuine pearls.”
“A redundant assurance doesn’t make it true. Those so-called pearls are teeth you pulled out of a phoenix warrior’s mouth.”
“Only if you lack imagination.” Neeka leaned over to inspect the branding iron before peering at Taliyah to watch her lips. “Almost ready. Oh, by the way, Hades is tee-icked at you. Well, not yet, but soon. You have no right to use my name, Tal, blah, blah, blah. He started shouting, so I started tuning out.”
Use Hades’s name? For what? They hadn’t spoken in weeks. Months? Whatever. Earlier in the year, she’d challenged him to a test of wills. Spend two months in bed with her. If he convinced her to give up her virginity, she wouldn’t kill him when he bragged about it. If she refused to surrender, he must give her...seduction lessons. Taliyah pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. The lessons were something else Neeka swore she needed as “a matter of life and forever death.”
Remaining penis-free had been difficult. Hades had skills! Who could resist his silken voice, sinful hands and wicked mouth? Don’t even get her started about his incredible body. But resist she had.
Taliyah smiled slowly, fully assured of her power. She would be General or she would die trying.
She’d fought for the title her entire life. She had died for the title—many times. Born to lead. The knowledge saturated every fiber of her being. Under her command, harpies would thrive, and enemies would fall.
Never been closer to my goal.
So why am I so dissatisfied with my life?
Her mood soured. There seemed to be holes in her heart, left by the first blades to pierce the organ. Whatever contentment Taliyah managed to garner, she lost soon after.
Everything would change when she became General, though. Surely! Long-lasting satisfaction would become hers for the taking.
“So what are we going to do after this?” Neeka asked. “Watch Henry Cavill do absolutely anything? Call Jason Momoa? His number just magically popped into my mind after only hours of searching for it. Or we could update our friends’ mythology online with more facts? Oh! Let’s retool Hades’s family history, so his first wife is also his sister.”
“We’re definitely updating Hades’s history, but first I’ve gotta meal-prep. I’m craving Italian.”
Taliyah’s diet consisted only of soul, or pure energy. Unlike Blythe, who went weeks between meals, Taliyah indulged once a day. Her current fare lived in the dungeon, her version of a refrigerator. The (former) rapists had grown too feeble to strengthen her, their souls no longer regenerating. Tonight, she’d finish them off and find their replacements.
“Steal me a marshmallow sundae while you’re out,” Neeka said. “Make it a double. And don’t let the ice cream melt. Also, make sure they know the number of cherries added is the number of fingers they’ll have when you leave.” Pause. “Yes! All done.” She lifted the branding iron from the flames and grinned. “Time to get aburnin’.”
As her friend skipped across the room, the tool in hand, and took a position behind her, Taliyah placed a thick rope between her teeth and bit down.
Inhale. Exhale. Okay. Ready.
“You’re gonna do great,” Neeka assured her. “On the count of three. One—” She pressed the blazing iron into Taliyah’s nape.
A bellow lived and died in her throat, murdered by determination. Heat swallowed her, every ounce of her sizzling. Sweat dotted her brow and dripped from her temples. The scent of frying meat inundated the air, and she nearly gagged.
“Mmm.” The other harpy smacked her lips. “If we had marinated you in butter, I would be digesting you right now.”
With a wheeze-snort, Taliyah spit out the rope. “Cannibalism...always hilarious,” she managed to eke out. Harpies drank blood, but only as medicine and only when needed.
Taliyah focused on her breathing. In, out. In, out. Good, that was good.
Neeka returned the branding iron to its hook before cleaning and bandaging Taliyah’s wound. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think you need to work harder and faster to earn your final stars. I’m a queen, and I want to be friends with other queens, not average soldier-peasants.”
Another snort. Completing eight of the ten prerequisites had required extra time—because she’d doubled or tripled each requirement, just to make a point. I can, so I did.
The ninth, though...the sacrifice. The task she needed to complete before she earned the right to challenge the current General. So far, the task had proved impossible. She’d given things away. Killed important people. Freely offered her time, her strength and her resources to other causes. Apparently, your motives must be pure for the sacrifice to count. Right now, she had no ideas for a next move.
Never accept a picture of defeat. A mantra Taliyah lived by. She’d fight until she succeeded or died for real. “I believe your husband the king divorced you when you murdered him that third time,” she said as her friend tossed her a T-shirt.
A while ago, Taliyah’s sister Kaia found herself betrothed to a Phoenix king. The girl had already fallen for a demon-possessed dude, though, and she’d refused to wed anyone else. To prevent an all-out war, Neeka had agreed to wed the guy instead. She’d owed Taliyah a big favor. Huge! See, a few weeks before, Taliyah had killed her favorite avatar in her favorite video game to save Neeka’s favorite avatar. The loss cut deep.
The wedding should have been a typical Friday night. Murder a king before the honeymoon kicked off, loot his treasury, free the immortals he’d kept as slaves and put his palace in their rearview. And they’d done it.
They’d known the king would revive, and they’d looked forward to the ensuing war. What they hadn’t expected? His ability to find Neeka anywhere. Needing a secret lair, Taliyah had bargained with friends to buy time in a place known as the Realm of Blood and Shadows. There, she’d mined rare and precious bloodgold buried in the mountains, which she’d then used to purchase time in this world. The Realm of the Forgotten.
The beauty of this place? As the name suggested, everyone everywhere forgot you the moment you entered. Unless, of course, they bore a special tattoo to remember you.
“As soon as I gain control of the harpy army,” Taliyah said, “we will destroy the phoenix. You have my word.”
The muscles in Neeka’s shoulders suddenly bunched with tension. “The collision...it’s already happened.”
Collision? “What are you talking about?”
“They’re here.” Her friend’s gaze drifted far, far away, to a land unseen by others. “The game has begun.”
“What game?” Taliyah asked, only then realizing the harpy was in the midst of a vision.
“He has drawn his cards. Now he plays his hand. Prepare. The next move is yours.”
The bedroom door swung open, hinges whining. Tabitha Skyhawk, mother of four, matron of dishonor, merciless killer and perpetual bachelorette, stumbled inside the chamber. She looked as if she’d just escaped a blender. Battered, bruised and bloody. She clutched an arm to her chest: her hand was missing. Fear clung to her like a second skin.
Blood freezing in her veins, Taliyah leaped to her feet. Despite waves of pain and dizziness, she remained upright. Grit and resolve served her well. “What happened?”
“Harpina,” Tabitha croaked. She tripped forward, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. Crimson wetted her pale, waxen skin and splattered her torn clothing. She just kind of fell onto the foot of the bed. “A fog rolled in, and a massive wall appeared. Nine monsters stood before it. The battle bell sounded, and we rushed to engage. The monsters had no w
eapons, yet they severed harpy hands and feet in seconds. Bodies began to vanish. So many of us, just gone. The survivors did the unthinkable. We...surrendered. I flashed out to find help.”
Taliyah’s stomach turned inside out. Harpies had surrendered? A horror too abhorrent to bear. She scooped up the first-aid kit and got busy tending her mother’s most concerning wounds.
“Who’s dead?” she demanded. Anyone she knew? Each of her sisters lived in the mortal world. Aunt Tamera had died in battle more than a century ago, too injured to regenerate, ensuring Taliyah’s heart bore a scar with her name. “What monsters?”
With her remaining hand, Tabitha shoved inky strands of hair from her face. “I don’t know. I...don’t know,” she repeated lamely.
“Nissa is dead,” Neeka intoned, going deeper into the vision. “The leader killed her.” A gasp. “Blythe.”
“Blythe was there?” Dread slapped Taliyah. Eight years ago, Blythe had found her consort—the male fate chose for her. She’d given up her virginity, right along with her desire to become General. Seven years ago, she’d birthed a child. A beautiful little girl named Isla. Someone Taliyah loved. “Was Isla with her?”
Eyes stark, Tabitha nodded. “Yes. And yes.”
Taliyah knelt in front of the woman who’d trained her to harness the worst pain imaginable and keep fighting. To fall and stand up, even if your legs were broken. “Tell me everything I need to know.”
“I wish I could,” her mother rasped. “All I know is that Blythe and Isla ran. Isla fell, and Blythe backtracked. I worked my way over, but I—I couldn’t find them again. I don’t know whose...pieces lay on the ground.”
A barbed lump grew in Taliyah’s throat before falling and settling in the pit of her stomach. “Whatever their injuries, they’ll recover.” Her sister had experienced as many deaths as Taliyah, reviving never a problem. Why would things change now?
The Warlord Page 2
