Looking at her it extended its hands. Its eyes glittered and it smiled.
“Perhaps I was wrong,” he hissed. “Perhaps cruder methods are required.”
Claws extended into talons. Long, curved scimitars of bone and nail. His faceted eyes narrowed, focused. On her.
A coldness swept through her.
How long would it be before he realized that he had only to kill Ash and her protection. whatever protection Ash and his love offered her, would be gone?
Not long.
Her eyes went to him, to the sharp lines of his beloved face, his amber eyes glowing as his gaze met hers.
One look and the harsh lines of Ash’s face softened even as his hands on the chains tightened.
Her heart wrenched.
She could sense his rage at his helplessness, his furious determination to help her.
He was everything to her. She couldn’t imagine a life, a future, without him.
In the floor beneath her hand, something…echoed… That something called to her from another plane. It was something she knew, something she recognized and although she’d never touched it herself, it sang to her.
The note was pure, sure.
She would have only one chance. Only one.
In a flash, she was on her feet.
The ethereal planes opened before her as she flung out her hands to scatter them like a magician fanning his cards.
Most of those in the room around them had seen only a brief glimpse, a glimmer when the Stranger had touched her.
Now the ethereal planes opened up in all their brilliant glory. Like the glow of a thousand rainbows or the shimmer of the northern lights it was heartbreakingly beautiful.
They spread and flowed around the room in thousands of shimmering, impossibly thin panes of future paths in a great looping Mobius strip that wound around itself. They shifted and flowed in a great lazy figure eight, the symbol of eternity.
Coruscating light flickered over and illuminated the fissures there.
Ash had only seen something like it once before, long ago, when Zefir’s true mate had opened the ethereal planes to them, giving them a refuge from those who persecuted them, a place to escape before she died.
A home, a refuge, for her son, for all of them..
Fear blossomed inside him, sank its talons deep at the memory.
That glorious light illuminated his Miri, too. It washed over her pale skin, turned her hair to fire and her eyes brilliant. They glowed like his, an ethereal light.
No.
One of the panes shifted.
Miri. No.
She looked at him, her beautiful eyes bright.
I love you.
Hargrove’s hands went slack at the sight before him. Once more she ripped her chain free.
Spinning on her toes, her hair streaming like fire, Miri ran toward what she’d conjured.
She disappeared into the pane.
Ash cried out, roared his denial of the loss of his mate.
Chapter Sixteen
Every plane of existence or temporal plane projected what might have been, could have been, from the time the universe began. It expanded endlessly out into what-might-have-been, reflecting the eternal struggle between creation and destruction, light and dark. Sentience, knowledge and thought had given some of that chaos structure.
But not all of it. Not this. Not here.
Miri plunged into the thick lush growth of the primordial swamp, a place where plants and insects commanded, where little of warm blood survived, a place where the sun filtered through tall, tall plants and swaying trees towered high above her to sweep the sky.
This world hummed, rattled on a scale that echoed in her bones, vibrated there.
In an odd way, among that insectoid buzz, Miri…understood.
She didn’t have much time but she felt something…and it was close.
It was all a matter of timing.
There would be only one chance to get this right, only one out of the myriad possibilities. If she’d seen it right, if her guess or guesses were true, correct…
Ash’s life, the lives of Ba’al and Mal, all of Daemonae and all of humanity, depended on it.
It was highly unlikely Templeton, once he felt the reach of his power, would aim so high.
She dove into the undergrowth, searched frantically, even as she heard the Stranger burst onto this plane in pursuit, following her path.
Terror shot through her.
Miri looked over her shoulder but the thick, lush growth concealed her as well as him.
It was here, she could feel it, it was somewhere close, she knew it. Her hands scrabbled through the thick ferns and mosses as a centipede as long as her arm crawled up and over her, uncaring, and she shivered.
There.
The Book. Unseen, but she knew it was there.
She reached for it.
Her fingers closed on the cover, on the rich surface of the leathery binding, the feel of it so soft, so oddly familiar. It was as smooth as satin and nearly as glossy. The color was a deep rich scarlet, a shade or so darker than Ash’s. It gleamed as if it had been oiled as his did.
Shock jolted through her as she suddenly understood.
A shudder of revulsion went through her so hard and quick she nearly dropped it as a cry of dismay, of denial, burst out of her.
Images raced through her mind as her fingers locked on it. Nausea churned as the vision of how the Book had been made moved through her. She wanted to be sick. She gripped it and all the while wished desperately that she didn’t need to touch it.
That small cry though was very nearly her undoing.
Miri heard the Stranger spin in response to the sound. Leaves rustled. More leaves rattled like bamboo canes as it came after her.
Her only thought was, He mustn’t catch me here, not on the ethereal planes.
If he caught her here, in his own element, if he took the Book from her here on his ground, here in his place, the Book would be his.
Through it, he would command of the Daemonae. All of them, Asmodeus, Ba’al, Mal.
Gabriel’s unborn child.
And Ash.
Her beloved Ash, in chains, obedient to this creature’s will. Her worst vision, his worst fear, made all too real.
Never.
This was what the Stranger had been after all along. Like Templeton and not. Using Templeton for its own ends.
In his search for power Templeton had broken his protective circle with that explosion, had cracked open a Door to the ethereal planes just wide enough to let something through - the Stranger, who had once been a small curious boy by the name of Daniel.
If the Stranger were to get hold of the Book, he would instantly render the only true opposition to his kind helpless and make them servants instead.
On her own plane, in her time and place, only the now-returned Daemonae had magic, save for a very few like herself. But against the Stranger and his kind?
Magic was natural to them. Only the Daemonae were a real threat to his Master and their kind. Only the Daemonae stood between him and her world.
If the Daemonae were instead forced to serve rather than fight?
They’d be unstoppable.
Ash. It would destroy him.
She wouldn’t allow it. Couldn’t.
There was a way, just one…
Miri burst from cover at an angle, running hard and fast for the place where she’d arrived, conscious of the Stranger in hot pursuit.
He was so fast. So frighteningly, terrifyingly fast.
A glance over her shoulder. She twisted as he swiped at her, tried to catch her.
Claws ripped. Pain seared through her shoulder.
That glancing blow had enough force to stagger her, to tear through cloth and skin. Blood ran.
She dove through the Doorway, turned in mid-air to take the fall into her own time and place on her back, the precious and damned Book wrapped securely in her arms as she slid across the battered mar
ble floor.
Instantly her eyes went to Ash, not knowing what had happened in those few frantic moments when she’d been gone, half-afraid to find the Stranger or Templeton had killed him out of spite or revenge.
To see him alive, well?
Miri nearly fainted with the sudden rush of relief.
Tears flooded her eyes, drenched her lashes.
Nothing could have eased Ash more than the sight of Miri as she fell out of nothingness, as she dropped through that pane with something dark and thick clutched against her chest.
Scrambling backward on her heels and one free hand, though, she faced that pane, that plane of existence, as the Stranger – or whatever it was he’d become – stepped out after her.
To Ash’s horror his blood ran cold as he recognized it even as he recoiled from it.
The thing’s implacable gaze was fixed on one thing and one thing only.
Miri, or rather, what it was she held in her arms.
“Ba’al,” Ash said, softly. “Hurry.”
His heart was locked in his chest, his breath frozen there.
Miri.
He was desperate to reach her.
“I know,” Ba’al whispered, his tone agonized. “I’m hurrying.”
Ash knew Ba’al didn’t truly understand. Someday he might but not now. Not yet. Not until he had a mate of his own.
Another shackle opened.
Recognizing what was in Miri’s arms, Templeton shouted, “The Book!” and started toward her as he gestured to his men.
Everything else was forgotten.
Miri glanced frantically, desperately, at Templeton and his men closed on her, her brilliant green eyes wide, desperate and determined. She turned to try to evade him and his men. But she couldn’t avoid the Stranger, too, she was trapped, caught between them.
Desperately, Ash tried not to fight the chains, to let Mal free him.
The Stranger reached out and grabbed the Book, tried to wrest it from Miri’s hands.
It felt as if Ash’s heart had gone still, as if time had.
Light flashed brilliantly, blindingly, brighter than a thousand suns it seemed, at the very moment the Stranger’s hands touched the Book.
Ash felt a flare of magic, old, old magic.
Familiar magic. Magic he knew. The magic of his people, of the Daemonae.
To his astonishment, he saw a flash of triumph in Miri’s green eyes, relief evident in them, in the curve of her body, as tension was suddenly released.
She was triumphant, nearly exultant.
The Book was gone.
Disbelief flashed across the features of both Templeton and the Stranger but it was the Stranger who spoke first.
Furiously, the thing roared, “What did you do?!!,” as it advanced on Miri.
Templeton swore viciously. “My Book!”
Miri stepped backwards smiling despite her fear and shook her head.
“Nothing. I didn’t do anything. You did. It’s not your Book, it was never yours,” she snapped to Templeton, before she looked to the Stranger. “You’re not from this temporal plane. Like matter and anti-matter you were never meant to touch it, not here. On your own plane you might have mastered it and you might have mastered them, the Daemonae. But not on this one. You don’t belong here. You should never have been here.”
Ash watched, his heart breaking with love and pride as Miri lifted her chin. Her voice rang through the chamber, her green eyes brilliant, blazing.
“They’re free,” she cried, “they’re free, the Daemonae, they’re free from both of you. You can’t touch them, either of you, ever again.”
“No!” Templeton roared in denial.
“Even you can’t make something like the Book simply go away,” the Stranger said to her, his eyes narrowing. “It’s a thing, a magical construct.”
“There’s a similar principal in physics,” she said. “Matter into energy. It’s not a thing, I can’t and didn’t make it ‘go away’, it has a mind of its own now, thanks to you and thank you very much. You forced it apart, out into the temporal planes. You set it free the moment you touched it.”
There was more but she wouldn’t tell these that.
Furious, the Stranger advanced on her, rage limned in every line of its boyish, chitinous face.
“You knew this would happen.”
Miri didn’t flinch. She’d seen this, too, in that breathless moment of Sight, the nearly sure chance of her own death.
“Yes,” she said.
She’d known she might die here.
And if she did?
The Daemonae, her beloved Ash, Ba’al with his hidden anger and cool Mal, Asmodeus, Gabriel and her baby, they would all be free.
As much as it wrenched her heart to leave him, at least Ash and the others would be safe.
There were far worse ways to die.
Coldly, Templeton said sharply in disgust to his men. “I have no further use for them now. Kill them. Daniel, we’ll see you at the office. Hargrove, make it all go away.”
He turned and walked away.
The thing that had once been a boy named Daniel smiled and raised a clawed hand, the other swiftly snagged in the front of Miri’s dress. Fire lashed up from her belly as its claws scraped over her skin.
Mire knew she would die here but she accepted that.
“I might be a while,” it seemed, as its gaze raked over her body.
Despite the pain, she snarled back at it. “Fuck you.”
He smiled, coldly. “I intend to.”
Fear fluttered through her.
“I don’t think so,” a familiar deep voice said. The sonorous tones vibrated in her bones.
Ash.
Chapter Seventeen
With a clash of iron, the last of the chains fell away and Ashtoreth, General of all the Daemonae, was at last and finally free.
Every line of his stern face was set, his brilliant golden eyes whirled, the fiery sparks in them spun. His jaw was locked, his mouth tight, determined. He looked like a cold and merciless warrior God of old that she’d once imagined him to be.
Despite everything Miri’s breath caught at the sight of him, of her Ash.
He was incredible. Fantastically and astonishingly beautiful.
Bound, he’d been glorious. Freed he was magnificent, a force to be reckoned with, every ridged muscle taut as he shook off the last of the fetters that bound him to the frame behind him as he stepped forward and gestured, his fury now unleashed as well.
He straightened and every single gloriously ridged muscle in his incredible body seemed to flex, shoulders, arms, the washboard muscles of his abdomen, as his gaze fixed on the Stranger.
The flickering light gleamed on his deep scarlet skin, intensified by the shadows.
He looked primal, nearly savage as he gestured. His sword appeared in his hands.
Awed, Miri was caught by the sheer beauty of him. Her throat went tight. Despite the circumstances, every single atom of her body seemed to flash to a white heat.
She knew he was aware of her, knew through the bond between them that his true focus was her, that he was as aware of her as she was of him.
Hearing the clatter of the irons as they fell to the floor, seeing the light in her eyes, the Stranger spun with shocking speed as he sensed danger behind him.
In the same instant, as soon as they realized Ash was free, some of Templeton’s men surrounded their departing boss. They hustled him into the shadows and out of the room while the rest opened fire, only to have two ebony figures, one with skin chased with fire, the other with ice, explode out of the shadows, swords in hand.
Swords flashed, men died and then the figures disappeared into the darkness once more in search of more prey.
The guards suddenly had a far more urgent situation on their hands. Survival.
Undeterred by the gunfire the Stranger sprang at Ash, his claws extending into foot-long scimitars in mid-leap.
Ash was already moving, blocking one ta
loned hand with his sword, twisting to avoid the other as he drove a punch into the Stranger’s jaw. Pain flashed across his chest and abs as the talons sliced across them, but the force of his punch sent the thing flying across the chamber, where it spun with shocking speed and scrambled to its feet to launch itself at him again almost instantly.
Even as he braced to meet it, to his relief and gratitude, Miri raced to put herself behind him, at his back and out of the line of fire.
His tail wrapped around her briefly, drew her closer behind him, maintaining contact with her as Ash parried the next slice of the Stranger’s raking talons.
There was no time for anything else. He had to trust to Ba’al and Mal and their training, pray that neither was or had been seriously injured.
Still, there was no time to waste.
With a quick gesture, he flung lightning at Stranger, but this time it was prepared and the lightning sloughed off to each side as if striking an invisible barrier.
It was from the ephemeral planes and so it knew magic as well as he did.
There was no chance of an even fight against those talons. As his body already bore witness.
Ash cloaked himself in his armor and called up his other sword.
Facing off opposite him, with an inclination of his head in acknowledgment of his skill, the Stranger did the same.
Narrowing his eyes, Ash studied him, studied the way he held his sword.
The Stranger had done his homework.
Slowly, Ash nodded in return, brought his swords up into position and set himself.
Miri’s heart froze even as she stepped back, even as Ash’s tail tapped lightly, just between her breasts to know where she was.
Go.
Fear ran cold through her as she watched the muscles of Ash’s back flex beneath his armor.
She did, diving to the side.
There was an odd grace and flow to their battle as Ash took the Stranger’s sword on his own when the Stranger attacked, smiling coldly.
Miri clapped a hand to her mouth to keep from crying out. She thought she’d be sick.
Ash countered, turned, spun, trapped the Stranger’s blade with his own and forced it away as he turned from it.
Swords rang and chimed as they tested each other’s blades and skill in a quick flurry of strikes and ripostes. Then Ash went on the offensive, hammering his sword down on the Stranger’s.
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