Dark Goddess

by Amalie Howard

  He broke free of Sera’s embrace.

  “You need to calm down, Kyle,” Sera whispered, her eyes worried. “People will notice.”

  “I am calm.”

  “You’re not. You’re burning up,” she said. “Get a hold of yourself. Or they will believe exactly what you don’t want them to.”

  Flames pulsed beneath his skin. “They already think the worst of me.”

  “Not all of them do,” she said with an anxious glance over her shoulder. “But if you don’t control yourself, they will. I can’t shade you much longer.”

  Stunned, he met his best friend’s eyes and sighed. She was using her own energy to cloak his. Blinking, he could see the rose-gold flames around her shielding his own pale brown aura, concealing it as it turned more opaque, like a wall of thick smoke. He could feel Dev’s gaze settle on him. It wouldn’t be long before the warrior deities in the room sensed the shift in his disposition—and considered it a threat.

  “I need a minute,” he said with a glance at the nearest exit. “Fresh air.”

  Sera nodded, frowning. “Do what you have to. But get it together. I can’t convince them without you there. And right now, we’re on the losing end, understand? So get your head together.”

  He froze at the curt tone of her voice. “I will.”

  “This isn’t a game, Kyle. I didn’t stay on earth so you could just give up when things get a little rough. I’m not about to lose my best friend a second time. Take a few minutes to compose yourself, and then get back in here. I mean it, Kyle. Promise me you won’t leave, or do anything rash.”

  Taken aback, he nodded. “I promise.”

  Huffing a sharp breath, he pushed open the narrow door and cracked the closest window. A welcome rush of crisp air welled into his face. He breathed deeply while his mind raced. It didn’t make sense. The demons were bound to the Dark Realms.

  No—they are bound to me.

  The thought was a blow, forcing the breath from his body. He wasn’t a Demon Lord like Ra’al. He wasn’t. Except . . . a dark, quiet voice rose within him, reminding him that Mordas was loyal only to the ruler of the lowest pit of Xibalba. Kyle shoved the thought away. Mordas was a thing—a blade that bowed to blood, nothing more. And Kyle kept it fed and satisfied. The sword’s allegiance did not make him Ra’al’s successor. But as strongly as he rejected the notion, a tiny seed of doubt took root in the wake of his insecurity. He felt another wave of heat rise inside him.

  Calm down. Calm down. Calm down.

  But the more he tried to restrain himself, the more his feelings flamed, reminding him that he could never escape his demonic nature. It was in his blood. Entrenched in his very soul—if he even had a soul.

  Kyle shook his head roughly. Of course he had a soul—he’d been born half-human, and the Trimurtas could not have granted him immortality as an Azura Lord if he’d been a demon.

  “Hey, hot stuff.” A husky voice curled around him. “And I mean that literally. I can see those fumes coming off you from a mile away.”

  He turned to see Kira watching him, a sardonic grin on her face. She was dressed in a black sweater-dress, one booted foot propped against the far wall, her arms crossed over her chest. Her wild tangle of hair was piled into a bun, tendrils escaping to frame her face, and a pair of carved onyx skulls swung from her earlobes. She looked composed and dangerous all at once.

  “Why aren’t you in there?” he asked, flushing at the sight of her. The heat in his body amped up a notch. “With Taran? Shiva, I mean. Aren’t you his consort, or girlfriend, or whatever?”

  She smiled and pushed off the wall. “He and I have an understanding.”

  “Of what?”

  “An open relationship.” Kira paused with a grin. “And technically, Parvati is Shiva’s consort. I’m just one version of her—so I’m kind of free to do my own thing.” She winked. “Sow my wild oats, so to speak.”

  “And Darika?”

  The smile fled from her face, and Kyle flinched at the ugly expression it left behind before she hid it smoothly behind a mask of indifference. “My sister has her own agenda.”

  “If you’re both incarnations of Parvati, then why are you both here?”

  The coy smile returned. “I can only answer for myself,” she said, taking a step forward and making his breath falter as her fingers grasped his shirtsleeve. “And I was intrigued by a certain Azura Lord.”

  He ignored the bait. “But why at the same time? I didn’t think that was possible.”

  “That’s because you’re still limited by your old, mortal ways of thinking.” She drew a nail down his arm. “You are immortal now, Kyle, and you should know that the gods are formless. We are all born of the same divine energy, no matter our incarnations and our many avatars. So, of course, I can be present in this form while Darika is in hers. Think of me as the more adventurous version. She maintains the cosmic balance, and—well, we both know what I do.”

  Kyle’s eyes flicked to where her palm pressed against his skin. Strangely, he felt the waves of heat recede at her light touch. He eyed her, grateful for the distraction and feeling his frustration ebb away. “You never answered my question. Why aren’t you in there?”

  “My presence is not required.”

  “Because Taran can speak for you?” he asked.

  “No.” She laughed. “He would never do that. But Darika can. She and I are of similar mindsets, you see. Despite our differences, we both want the same thing. Balance.”

  “Darika is in there?” he blurted, surprised to feel himself flush again at the thought of Kira’s twin. He hadn’t thought she’d left much of an impression when he’d met her at Sal’s. At the time, he’d thought she seemed tame compared to her sister. “I didn’t see her earlier.”

  “We arrived at the same time.” Kira presented him with her elbow. “Let’s take a walk. Those gardens behind the building look quiet.”

  “You don’t care about what they’re saying in there?” he asked. “Or deciding?” Kira rolled her eyes and started to walk down the corridor.

  Of course, Kyle realized. She would know the instant they decided anything, being part of the cosmic fabric and all that. He followed with a glance over his shoulder, remembering his promise to Sera. But it wasn’t like he was leaving. He’d be with one of the Tridevi the whole time.

  “I thought you said you’d give us a chance to figure out what was happening,” he said as he caught up. “Back there at the school.” Kira had already started down the stairs leading to the lower level.

  “I wanted to, but it’s not up to me.” She shrugged. “I will do as commanded, whether that’s wage war or banish an Azura Lord. Although I admit I will be far more saddened to do the latter.”

  “Why?”

  “I told you,” she said, pushing open a door that let a stream of fading evening light into the gloomy interior. “You intrigue me. I see the war you’re waging between your two selves. One will win.” She paused, squinting back at him as the door swung closed behind them. “Eventually.”

  The garden was half-dead, but it didn’t matter. For the first time since he arrived, he felt as if he could breathe. Kyle hadn’t realized how the weight of all the collective energies he could feel from inside the hall had been pushing into him. “And which do you think that is?” he asked Kira. “The side of me that will win?”

  “Kalias, the son of Ra’al, or Kyle, the redeemed Azura Lord?”

  “Yeah.”

  She smiled again, but this time it was more like a baring of her perfect white teeth. “That depends on whether you choose to be a king of the demons or a servant to the gods. Most men would choose the former. Power, you see, is the root of all evil.”

  He jerked his head to the upper hall. “All the Ne’feri think I’m a Demon Lord already. And maybe they’re correct. Maybe that’s exactly what I should do. Prove them all right.”

  “You don’t believe that. Or you wouldn’t be here.”

  “I don’t want to
be Ra’al.”

  “No, of course not,” she said. “No one wishes to be a Demon Lord. But sometimes choices are made . . . paths are taken . . . in the face of great provocation.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “You would do anything to save the one you love.”

  There was only one person Kyle had ever loved. Sure, he loved Carla, and he was fond of Nate, but he knew who Kira was talking about. “You mean Sera.”

  Kira’s smile was gentle. “She is bound to another. And unlike my relationship with Taran, there’s no gray area with the two of them,” she said softly. “Do you still have feelings for her?”

  “No,” he said, with a guilty look at her. “Not like that. It’s complicated.”

  Liking Kira wasn’t a betrayal of Sera, even though it’d felt that way at first. What he felt for Sera was like an old blanket, comforting and familiar. If she told him right then that she was into him, Kyle didn’t know what he would do. She was Sera; of course he’d be conflicted. He’d loved her practically forever. And the truth was that if Dev wasn’t in the picture, he and Sera might have had half a chance of being together. But Dev was the love of her life, and there was nothing any of them could do to change it. Her friendship meant more to him than having nothing at all.

  “Love has a way of twisting the most perfect thing into something ugly,” Kira said, watching him closely. “It uplifts and destroys in a single breath. Serjana cares for you, but only as a friend—and that will never change, no matter how much you wish it deep down inside.”

  “I don’t wish that. Not anymore.” Kyle sucked in a sharp breath, the feeling he’d tried to suffocate rising like a tide. “I was in love with her my whole life. And you’re right, it hurt when she chose Dev over me, but I can’t fault her for that. And I’m not going to become my father because of it.”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. But you know what they say—the way to hell is paved with the best intentions.” Sinking to her knees, she plucked a wilting rose from its stem and held it in her palm, studying its frayed, black-edged petals. Kyle sat cross-legged across from her. It was clear that the bloom she was holding was diseased. “Everything needs to be liberated from decay,” Kira mused. “Even this rose. Its time has come. And such is the way of the realms. The Mortal Realm is like this rose. Sooner or later, it will die from the sickness consuming its petals.” She closed her fingers, and when she opened them Kyle saw that the rose had crumbled to fine, gilded dust. It swirled in the wind in a tiny golden cyclone and disappeared. “The power of transformation at its best. So, you see, sometimes death is the answer.”

  Kira seemed almost pensive as she spoke, though her eyes burned with an intense light. Kyle cleared his throat. “Is it true what they say about you—that you drank the blood of a rakshasa demon to protect the Mortal Realm?”

  She leaned back on her elbows and grinned. “Mahishasura?”

  Kyle nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Yes, Durga summoned me. The demon could not be killed and every drop of blood from it spawned a new demon.” She shrugged, smacking her lips at the memory, and winked. “Worked, didn’t it?”

  “They said you went crazy, dancing on the dead, and that Shiva was only able to stop you by throwing himself at your feet.”

  “So they say.” She arched an eyebrow. “Would you throw yourself beneath my feet to protect the mortals, if you had the choice?”

  He answered her question with one of his own. “Would you stop if you saw it was me?”

  This time her burst of laughter was genuine. “Maybe, maybe not. But that’s a discussion for another time.” Kira rose to her feet and extended her hand. “Now go—you are being summoned.”

  “You’re not coming back in?” he asked as she turned in the opposite direction of the doors.

  “I don’t do politics.” She squeezed his hand and pressed a swift kiss to his lips before vaulting over the low stone wall that separated the garden from the street. “Try not to die, okay? I’m not bored of you just yet.”

  WHAT ARE FRIENDS FOR?

  Sera’s gaze swept the room as she looked for Kyle. The discussion was not going well.

  She cringed at the swell of fear and the accompanying rise of angry voices. The majority of the Ne’feri were afraid of him, but it felt like an inquisition more than a productive discussion. Despite Dev’s staunch support, she could feel the room turning.

  Where was Kyle?

  She scanned the sea of faces, but could not spot him anywhere. She could feel his presence, but not inside the meeting room. Sera’s gaze slid to the slim, dark-haired figure of Darika, standing beside Taran. In her rich red sari, it was hard not to notice her beauty, from the soft sheen of her hair to the classic sculpt of her features. She held herself like the epitome of the divine mother she was. Her expression was neutral, however, betraying no hint of what she was feeling. Taran, on the other hand, seemed responsive. Sera exhaled a breath of relief. It was a good sign. The Trimurtas would be the deciding factor in Kyle’s fate, and Dev would need Taran on his side.

  “The boy must be banished,” Aidan Davenport argued loudly. “It’s the only solution.”

  Beth’s father had been the most vocal in his claim that Kyle was responsible for the influx of demons, and Sera knew that he had good reason, given what had happened with Beth.

  Dev cleared his throat. “We have no way of knowing that he is the one behind the flood of demons in the Mortal Realm. The portals are all closed.”

  “Lord Devendra is correct,” Taran said. “We cannot accuse the boy without proof.”

  “By the time we’ve established proof, it will be too late,” Ryan Davenport interjected. “You would condemn us to death.”

  Sera opened her mouth to respond, but Darika beat her to it.

  “Death is always in your future, young one,” she said, her voice reverberating through the space like a low-pitched sitar. “Whether that is today or years from now, that outcome is a certainty.”

  Ryan’s response was petulant. “Your job is to protect us.”

  “Our job is to guide you toward moksha.” Darika waved a hand, her pensive face betraying no emotion at Ryan’s tone. “The ultimate unification with Brahman. This plane has always been only one of death and rebirth.”

  Ryan sucked air through his teeth. “Why even protect the mortals if you’ve accepted that they’re all going to die anyway?”

  The furious hum in response to his irreverent statement rose to the rafters.

  Taran stepped forward, one palm raised to silence the dissent. “Your reasoning is flawed, Ryan. The goal isn’t death. It’s liberation from samsara, the karmic cycle of death and rebirth. The Daevas guide you onto the path toward Illysia, and the Azura turn you away from it, toward Xibalba. This is the way of the realms. But sometimes, it becomes necessary to wipe the slate clean.” He paused meaningfully. “The role of the Ne’feri, which you have been born into, is to defend your brothers and sisters, and guard the portals to this realm.”

  “I didn’t choose this path,” Ryan said softly, and Sera’s entire body froze. “It was chosen for me. And yet I do it, because I was born into this world. But I can’t continue if the Trimurtas blindly supports him.” As he spoke, his gaze landed on the rear door of the hall, his eyes narrowing. Sera spun to see Kyle reentering.

  Kyle’s face was a careful mask of indifference, but Sera could sense his indignation. Angry shouts rose again as the rest of the room caught sight of him.

  “He is the heir of the seventh,” Aidan Davenport shouted. “It’s because of him that the demons are here.”

  The murmur of voices rose to a roar as others took Aidan’s side. Several of the Yoddha and Sanrak also nodded. Any dissent between the immortals was a dangerous thing. Dev had said as much, but Sera hadn’t fully understood.

  They needed to find common ground. Common sane ground.

  “The heir?” Sera shot back. “Ra’al is still the Demon Lord of the seventh.”

  Ryan moved
to stand beside his father, whose lips were pulled back into an ugly sneer. “According to the laws of succession in Xibalba, since Kyle bested Ra’al in combat, he should have taken Ra’al’s place.” Aidan Davenport’s vitriolic gaze fastened on Kyle. “And since the seventh is now without its true successor, the demons are separated from their real master. That’s why they’re still coming to the Mortal Realm—they’re looking for you.”

  Sera blinked, her breath stuttering. Everything inside of her fought against the foul suggestion. There was no way that Kyle was Ra’al’s successor. Right?

  Sera felt, rather than saw, Kyle start to simmer. “You’re wrong!” he growled.

  “Enough,” she said through clenched teeth, squashing the maggot of doubt that had wriggled into her brain. “I have vouched for him. Lord Devendra has vouched for him. He is not the heir of anything. Until you have proof, any attack against Kyle is an attack against me.” She took a shaky breath. “We cannot afford to let fear divide us. We must bolster our defenses, defend the humans, and find a solution. Not turn against each other. Kyle is not the enemy.”

  “He will always be the son of Ra’al,” someone shouted. “His blood is tainted.”

  Sera blinked, focusing on the individual who had spoken. Martin, a Ne’feri veteran. She didn’t hesitate, using her goddess power to delve into the man’s consciousness and access the threads of his past lives. “Your great-grandfather was a thief and a highwayman. Are you a thief too, since you’re related to him?”

  Martin paled. “That’s not the same.”

  “But it is,” Sera said gently. “What are we all here for, if not to better ourselves? Our belief in karma is the cornerstone of who we are—we all believe that the lives we lead now will determine where we go in the next. Condemning Kyle because you are afraid does not only impact him. It affects you. Think upon that. Do you really want to be responsible for the exile of an innocent person?” Martin flushed and shook his head.