by Dianna Hardy
“What are we doing here?” she asked.
“I told you I wanted to help. Just a little further up this way.”
They had teleported to Wiltshire, where Katarra had said she had housed the last remaining members of her tribe.
“Where exactly are we?” asked Elena.
“About a kilometre to the east of Stonehenge. This is New King Barrow.” The demon threw her a knowing look. “Fitting, right? This used to be a cemetery – a huge one. I’m sure you can feel it, what, with your powers of life and death and so on.”
Yes, she could. In fact, the energy was so great it was heady.
They made their way up the large hill … or grave.
“So,” said the she-demon, as if casual conversation was the done thing at a time like this. “Remind me what your plan is?”
Elena looked at Katarra. Her initial reaction had been to find Karl and … and that’s where her plan had ended. Find Karl, then what? Reason with God? Fight God? Fight Karl?
Besides, she hadn’t a clue where he was. He wasn’t answering his phone, she couldn’t sense him, and a location spell had been no use at all – whatever Karl’s energetic blueprint had been, it had clearly been altered with the mergence. That left her feeling all kinds of shitty, so she’d focused on the only plan that could be solidified for the moment: save the Dragon. And if saving the Dragon meant that all non-human entities died, maybe it also meant God would ‘die’ and leave Karl intact.
Okay, so it was lame, but it was all she had.
She cleared her throat, and her feelings of futility with it. “Go into the womb of the Earth and induce the Dragon to birth before anyone can kill it.”
“When.”
“ASAP.”
“Crazy. I like it. How are you going to do that? No one’s supposed to be able to reach the Dragon.”
Throwing a smile into the dark, she put her hand into her pocket and drew out the necklace she’d unearthed almost twenty-four hours ago. A corner of the gold Chinese lettering caught the moonlight.
“Mary’s pendant?” voiced Katarra in surprise. “I thought that was gone.”
“It was. I accidentally brought it back.”
“There are no accidents.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. If anything can give me direct connection to the Dragon, it’s this.”
Katarra let out a low whistle.
Elena assumed that meant she was impressed.
“And what if God turns up?”
She shrugged. “Better to face him down there than out in the open where anyone could get hurt. I don’t know if Karl can trace me right now; I can’t seem to trace him with my magic.”
“You mean God.”
“No, I mean Karl. Karl’s in there, Katarra – he’s not gone.”
“Even though you can’t trace him.”
Elena scowled.
Katarra sighed. “What will you do if he does turn up?”
“No fucking idea.”
“Glad to hear it.”
The slope became slightly steeper before flattening out.
“Elena, what if we get to the womb of the Earth and there’s no Dragon there at all?”
“We?”
“I’m coming with you and don’t say, no. I want to see a dragon before I die. But what if it’s not there? Or what if it is, and it turns on you? What if you have to kill the Dragon?”
“And potentially end the human race?” She threw her a sideways glance. “I won’t be killing any dragons. Besides, seems to me from what Michael was saying that Gwain’s sword is the only thing that can kill it, and I can’t carry it – Karl’s the only one who can.”
“But what if—”
“Look, I don’t know, okay? I haven’t got a blinkin’ clue. I’m going into this on faith alone – faith in Karl’s strength, faith that Gwain and Mary are inside that Dragon and will show some mercy, faith that the right decisions will hit me at the times when I need them the most, and faith that happy endings still exist even though the world’s gone topsy-turvy. Faith’s all I’ve got here. Other than that, I’m running on empty.”
“You know, if anyone can beat this thing, it’s Karl,” said Katarra, softly.
Elena gave her a grateful smile, although she didn’t know if she was saying it because she meant it, or just to make her feel better.
They stopped at the edge of a small wood, then Katarra swept her arm outwards and across the view, not that they could see anything in the pitch black that was the countryside at 3 a.m. “We’re standing directly between New King Barrow and Old King Barrow. This is a point of magical convergence. There used to be a procession path here that ran between the two barrows – you can still sort of see it. It leads straight to Stonehenge and begins south-east of here, in what a few thousand years ago was a village exclusive to magical workers – Druids and the like. Only those possessing the most potent magic and initiated into certain relevant teachings could live here. They were keepers of life and death, and of course, rebirth. They were both revered and feared. Royals from across the country – even further out – would be treated to the most elaborate burials by their hand. They were also called upon to midwife babies into their new lives.” She turned and stared at Elena. “We can reach the womb of the Earth from here – this is how we reach the Dragon.”
Elena stared back, wide-eyed. “Wow. But we’re so far out from London.”
“Distance can be as much of an illusion as time. You teleport – you know this.”
Yeah, she did, but still… “Where do you think the Dragon will rise?”
“The Malattal are saying the same as the Lagool: along the deepest curve of the Thames near Greenwich.”
“And what do you think?”
“I don’t dispute that, but the pull of its magic feels strongest to me here.”
Elena nodded. “Me too. How can that be? If the Dragon rises in London, how can we feel its energy so strongly here?”
“Out of my league, babe. They are questions for a future I’m no longer a part of.” She aimed a sad, lopsided smile at Elena that Elena had never seen on her before, and once again she was taken aback at how the catty Brujii had completely transformed.
Katarra took a step towards her. “I have a gift for you.” She raised her voice and spoke a command in her own tongue.
Out of the shadows surrounding them, four beings emerged and made their way towards them.
“Four left, and myself,” said Katarra. “These are the last of the Brujii.”
It wasn’t until they were close enough to be seen properly that Elena’s jaw dropped … again. They may share Katarra’s complexion and red hair, but there was a fundamental difference between them and her. “They’re men,” she proclaimed. And butt naked.
And erect, added her succubus as she reared her head at the possibility of the very visible reward. Four very visible rewards.
Katarra smiled proudly. “The first Brujii males ever to exist. Since Lokoli’s curse no longer mars us, we discovered that not all of us were truly female – the curse had forced the gender upon us, even as it made us sexless in other ways. Unfortunately, they are not only the first Brujii males, but also the last.”
She stood directly in front of Elena, presumably so she wouldn’t miss the point when she drove it home. Elena already knew what she was going to say…
“Their final wish is to experience pleasure, and you’ll need an extraordinary amount of energy to sustain you for what you’re about to do; energy for both the succubus and the witch.”
She numbly shook her head, although she was fully aware of her succubus beaming with delight that Christmas had come early. “Katarra…” She looked back and forth between the four males and their queen, finally letting her gaze fall on the queen.
“Think carefully before rejecting this,” she said. “They are giving themselves willingly – happily, even – and you need what they’re offering for your mission. Because magic flows through the Brujii, they will not onl
y feed your succubus, but also your witch, and honey, you’re gonna need all the magic you can get.”
Her mouth felt like cotton wool, partly because her succubus was ready to pounce, and partly because Katarra was making sense.
“This isn’t like what happened at the building site – this is consensual.”
The way it’s supposed to be, encouraged her succubus. I need this, I need this, I need this… And it was strange how the demon’s voice was starting to sound an awful lot like her own.
“I’ll kill them,” she whispered.
Katarra brushed Elena’s arm with her own, and then laced her fingers through hers. “We’re going to die anyway. Imminently. It would be nice to choose how we go – riding out on the joy that was always denied us – but we understand if it’s something you can’t do.”
Elena squeezed her hand. Looking at her, she tried to gauge the Brujii’s true feelings. All she saw was complete honesty. It didn’t surprise her – Katarra had always been honest, even if that honesty was blunt. “And you? If they’re all that’s left, what will happen to you?”
“Their death will sustain me for a short while – long enough to see a dragon, I hope.”
Elena looked back at the four males awaiting her decision.
Flippin’ heck!
They were of average height for men and slender in physique, but toned nonetheless. Anything they lacked in build, they made up for in…
Going red – thank goodness it was dark – Elena forced her eyes away from their … er … faculties, and back up to their faces.
“I know you’d rather feed from Karl, and if he were here I wouldn’t even—”
“Hush.” She squeezed the Brujii’s hand harder, and in a move neither of them really saw coming, Elena leaned in and planted a kiss on her lips.
A pair of shocked, citrine-coloured eyes, stared back at her when she pulled away.
“Your gift is wonderful. That you would even give of your people and yourself in this way… Thank you.”
Katarra’s eyes filled with tears that overflowed easily, and it seemed to stun the queen even more.
“You okay?”
She touched the trickle that ran down her right cheek. “I’ve never cried before from feeling so … so…” She gulped and shook her head, unable to complete the sentence.
“See?” said Elena, softly. “It’s never too late for a first time, even when time has run out.”
“So, you’re accepting my gift?”
“If you and they are giving it freely – if you’re all sure – then yes. With gratitude.”
Disentangling her hand from Katarra’s, she trailed her fingers up her arm, both her and the succubus delighting in the way it made her flesh bumpy in response; over her shoulder … up the side of her neck towards her jawline…
Katarra let out a low sigh that ended on a small moan as Elena’s thumb caressed her bottom lip.
“Thank you,” whispered Elena, again.
She turned to the males and held out her arms to them. “You give yourselves of your own free will?”
“We do,” they affirmed in unison.
The demon in her had never felt so near the surface in such a controlled way before – this was very different from how it had been at the building site. She didn’t feel separate from it – more that her demon was a conscious shadow that gave depth to all of who she was. “Come then,” she smiled.
There was no hesitation from any of them.
They moved towards her as one, and she received them, whole.
Chapter Nineteen
Roomy leather couches were great for sitting on, but not all that wonderful for sleeping on.
Amy groggily rose to sitting, peeling herself off the material, wondering when the hell she had fallen asleep on the sofa.
Her eyes landed on the half-eaten apple on the floor. She remembered Lucifer’s conversation, she remembered biting it, and everything after that was a little bit hazy, although Paul’s shirt in her hand told a bit of the story: at some point, she must have gone into her bedroom to get it. She didn’t remember it though, and that really didn’t sit well with her given all that her memory had been through already.
“Oh, Amy,” she mumbled to herself. “What the fuck have you done?”
“What have you done?” came the hushed voice from across the room.
She gasped in surprise, fear scurrying up her throat, and squinted in the pitch black to see who had spoken. What was it, anyway – five in the morning? “Who’s there?”
A figure came into view until she recognised its shape. “Paul,” she sighed in relief. “I was worried. Where have you…” Her unfinished question hung in the air as she realised that something felt odd – the atmosphere was … kinda sharp, was the best way she could think to describe it.
She willed on the lights – this time the two standing lamps, hoping the softer glow of the bulbs would dampen some of the sting in the air – and caught her breath when she saw his face.
Paul looked bone-tired and drained of all energy, although still twenty-eight. His eyes had a glaze to them, and that’s when she understood the slight ‘tang’ in the air she couldn’t place before: he’d been drinking.
At this time in the morning? Where?
“I felt something change,” he stated, flatly. “I can tell you exactly when: twelve minutes past three. What have you done?”
His cuffs were rolled up to this elbows and his shirt looked all but slept in, wrinkles decorating it all the way up to… Oh, fuck.
There was lipstick on his collar.
Everything changed in an instant.
It was as if the past few weeks and every single thing that had happened to her, finally caught up with her all in one go, in a gigantic, screaming ball of rage.
The first thing that went flying at him was a leather cushion. “You BASTARD!”
“Ouch! Hey!”
The second was two drinks coasters that sat on the side table, one after the other… “After everything we’ve been through, after everything you’ve put me through, after everything, everything, EVERYTHING!”
…a ceramic mug that he ducked just in time so it smashed into the wall behind him…
“Amy!”
“While I’m carrying your CHILD.”
…a property magazine…
“While I was worried SICK.”
…a large vase complete with water and carnations…
And that seemed to do it. With a furious look he didn’t often sport, Paul strode towards her in five large steps. He took her wrists so she couldn’t throw anything else. “Stop!”
She kicked out with her feet instead, not that that got her very far with her great big dome of a belly in the way.
“Amy!”
“Who was she?” she seethed.
“Who was who?”
“You want to get in your last jollies before you die? Was she good? Was she?”
“I’m not dying!”
“You … you’re … what?” She hadn’t heard that right, and was he trying to change the subject?
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you – something changed!” The spark in his eye faded a little as that haggard look returned, and for the first time she actually saw him.
When you saw Pueblo in all his muscle-bound glory you couldn’t help but think ‘strength’, but that didn’t make Paul any less strong, and what she understood right now was that Paul had been her unassuming strength for the last few weeks – quietly, without trespass.
Now, he looked as if he was hanging on by his fingernails … and the metaphoric cliff was giving way.
“I was ready to go. Christ, it was even the only thing keeping me sane the past month; the only thing giving me focus. I was going to die and that was that.” He let go of her wrists and grabbed her upper arms instead, all emotion pouring off him. “Everything I had to do I could because that was the end goal, and now it’s all changed and I haven’t got a fucking clue what to do.” He gri
pped her harder. “What did you do?”
Her mind was a blur.
“You mean you’re not going to … you’re not going to…”
“I’m not going to die. I can feel renewed life flowing through me where there was none before; a quick revealing spell confirmed it. I was ready to go – I was ready.”
“You were…” she stuttered, and then everything fell into place.
He’d been ready to die.
“Oh, no…”
Oh, holy, shitting…
‘…one man’s free will, is another man’s prison.’
She had wanted him to live – that had been her deepest desire – she could see it so clearly now.
Through one bite of an apple she’d just given him life … and taken his choice away.
“Amy,” he whimpered, tears lining his eyes, “what did you do?”
“I’m so sorry,” she choked out, her gaze landing on the fruit on the floor.
He followed it, his face falling even further as realisation dawned on him. “Why?” he wrenched out.
“Because…” Because I was confused, because I wanted to be a good mum, because I wanted to know my real desires so I wouldn’t make mistakes, because I wanted to move forward… All excuses. In the end, it was the unmasked truth that came out, because she could no longer deny what she had secretly wished for when she’d bitten that apple – what she’d been wishing for all this time: Paul, alive. “Because I still love you … so much.”
If a thousand expressions could sit in one face all at the same time, it was happening now. There was everything from love to pain to anger to fear…
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, words turning into sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorr—”
He let go of her left arm and rested his hand lightly on her mouth instead. “Ssshhhh, don’t say that, don’t say that…”
“But—”
“Amy… Elizabeth…” He brushed his nose against hers; let his hand slide away, his lips directly over her open mouth.
Oh, God … sweet man … my husband. Kiss me… “You have lipstick on your collar,” she blurted out instead, wincing at the statement – both at its meaning and that she’d had to say it at all – but she couldn’t pretend the lipstick wasn’t there. That particular shade of pink was branded into her mind now.
