Crown of Doom and Light

by Jayde Brooks

  “How dare you put your hands on me, Vampyre,” she said through gritted teeth.

  He managed to get to a squatting position and lunged at her, but she’d had enough. As he barreled into her midsection she planted herself as firmly as she could against the slippery surface, grabbed a handful of his hair, raised him up to face her, and dug her fingers into the far right side of his chest. He froze.

  “Tell me, ptkah. How long after I tear out one of your three hearts will you beg me to remove the other two?”

  She pressed so deep into his flesh that she could feel the outline of the pathetic organ pumping frantically like a small animal’s.

  His black eyes bore into hers, another trespass. So she squeezed.

  “All right!” he shouted and immediately lowered his gaze to the floor.

  “I have dirtied my hands with you. You have touched me, and for that I should kill you.”

  Mkombozi squeezed his heart even tighter.

  “No,” he said, breathless. “Please. No.”

  She scanned the room looking into the faces of these creatures searching for another Ancient, anyone but him. But there was no one. The scooth was the only other Ancient here and she needed answers.

  “Where am I? What is this place?”

  The pktah seemed confused, anxious, as if he were trying to recall something. Mkombozi tightened her grip and he spoke. “Earth. A planet called Earth.”

  His Theian dialect was unrefined and unpracticed, but she understood. “Earth? Where is Theia?”

  He shook his head and shrugged his unnaturally broad shoulders and again confusion shadowed his expression. “Gone. Destroyed, and many Ancients with it.”

  Mkombozi stumbled back in dismay. Theia was gone? Her world—her Beloved?

  She stared helplessly at the Vampyre. “My Guardian. Tukufu? Did he perish?”

  He looked surprised when she said Tukufu’s name, and she pressed her questioning. “You know him? You know where he is? How to find him?”

  She held her breath, waiting for his answer.

  The thing looked surprised. “The Guardian? No. No, I do not know him. I have heard of him.”

  “He is here?” she asked, feeling more hopeful than she had felt in such a long time. “He is alive?”

  “Yes,” he admitted, staring strangely at her. “But . . . who are you?”

  Now it made sense that he’d attack her. He did not know who she was.

  “I am Mkombozi,” she said proudly, straightening her stance. “General to Khale. Redeemer of Theia.”

  The ptkah’s eyes glazed over and slowly he shook his head. “Mkombozi’s dead.”

  Without hesitating, she let go of his chest, drew back her arm, and swung hard, landing a backhand against the side of his face.

  “Do I look dead to you, ptkah?”

  That creature dared to grimace at her. And she hit him again and again until he remembered his place and cast his gaze upon the floor.

  “Take me to him,” she commanded.

  “I don’t know where he is.”

  “You’re lying,” she snarled, hitting him again.

  “I don’t know where he is,” he said again, gathering his courage and looking into her eyes. “I don’t know.”

  She studied him for signs that he was dissembling and surmised that he wasn’t.

  “Who is the ruler of this world?” she asked cautiously.

  “This world has belonged to the humans,” he said, glancing at the creatures standing around them.

  “Ancients do not rule here?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  Theia was destroyed. Ancients lived in a world ruled by these soft, pliable creatures. And vamps were fat and defiant. How long had she been gone? Where was Tukufu? And what was she to do now? Weakness! Fear! Mkombozi hid them both away before the vamp could see.

  “I need food,” she told him. “I need rest.”

  He had tried to kill her and he could very well try again as she slept, but Mkombozi was exhausted.

  Reluctantly, he stood and nodded. “And you need clothes.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Eden stood at the base of the steps at the front of the house in only a T-shirt and panties, her eyes fluctuating wildly between brown and green. She spoke in Theian, trembling and clenching her fists at her sides. She planted her feet on the ground, then sank to her knees and hips to hold her position because she felt as if she was about to fly away, but it was nearly impossible to maintain.

  “What’s happening?” Prophet asked desperately, towering over her. “What the fuck is happening, Eden?”

  She shook her head slowly. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks. “I don’t know,” she screamed. In her head the words were in English, but he stared strangely back at her and reached for her arm.

  “Shit!’ Prophet said gritting his teeth and jerking away from her. His palm was singed, blistering from touching her. “Are you in pain?” he asked, also in Theian. “Do you hurt?”

  “No,” she responded, bravely. “But they have me. They have all of me, Tukufu.”

  Eden had literally been through hell and back to make the bonds with these Omen, three times. And three times she had believed that she would never make it through those experiences alive. But this was different. A force surrounded her, it filled her at the same time, and it pulled on her. It was as if the three Omen, the mind, body and soul of the demon that they’d been made from, had merged their powers to create one force that was as powerful as the demon himself had been while he lived.

  Every muscle in Eden strained against the force trying to claim her. Her veins bulged in protest. Her teeth clamped down in defiance. Her bones ached from the stance she was holding and her body began to tremble. And in her mind, they whispered to her. They laughed at her. They mocked her.

  Weak. Yes. You are.

  As we have grown stronger.

  Yes.

  Let go, bitch!

  Eden couldn’t help it. She opened her mouth and released a scream loud enough to splinter the trees.

  “Eden! No!” she heard Prophet call out.

  And in her mind, she cried out to him. “Beloved!”

  But then there was nothing except silence, and darkness, and a small flame rising up from where she stood. She stared at it, fixed her sights on it and was entranced by it. And as she watched, it grew, the light coming from it spreading, revealing this place. Prophet was gone. The house was gone. Eden was somewhere else. Shadows crept around her. Instinct took over and she crouched down into her fighting stance. She reached behind her for her weapon, but it wasn’t there.

  “In this place, it belongs to me.”

  A woman stepped out of the darkness. A woman with Eden’s face, emerald green eyes, and scars from old wounds that appeared to have healed over time. In her hand, hanging down by her side, was Eden’s kpinga. The woman’s lips curled into a wicked smile. She was Eden, almost. Not quite. And she was dangerous.

  “You steal my weapon and then seek to use it against me?” she asked, slowly stalking Eden, making a circle around her and the fire.

  Eden clenched her fists and drew back her arms, preparing to fight. Suddenly, laughter erupted from behind her. She didn’t want to take her eyes off the enemy, but she had no choice. She quickly glanced back over her shoulder, but saw nothing.

  “Oh, what a fierce little thing she is,” a voice said.

  Again Eden glanced over her shoulder, and this time she saw another version of herself, again with the green eyes that bore into her like lasers. Confusion began to overwhelm her, but she didn’t dare let it show. Confusion was a sign of weakness.

  “Yesssss!” the one with the weapon hissed. “Yes it is, young one.”

  “She would be impressive if she weren’t so transparent.”

  Another one? Jesus! Eden turned in slow cautious circles, guarding herself the three of them.

  They were the same, the same as her, and different. They were even different from one other. Th
e one with the weapon was angry, using every ounce of willpower to restrain her rage. The second one was cunning, sneaky. She wasn’t to be trusted. The last one was reserved but commanding. The Omen? Eden’s heart raced. Oh, God! Where was she? Was she dead? Had they finally taken her? Had they destroyed her world?

  The sneaky one laughed. “She has such silly thoughts. I find her amusing and sweet.”

  The sarcasm coming from that one was sickening.

  “Oh,” the sneaky one said, pouting. “And here I thought that you and I could become BFFs.”

  The angry one was gradually closing in on Eden. “You are very courageous, very stupid, or both to fight against us, young one,” she said.

  Eden saw her tighten her grip on the handle of the kpinga. She was readying herself to strike.

  “Am I dead?” Eden asked boldly. “Is that what happened? You finally killed me?”

  Her heart pounded so loudly that it echoed against the darkness.

  “Not yet,” the reasonable one eventually said. “We are gathering our strength.”

  “Stop it,” the angry one demanded. “Don’t tell her a fucking thing.”

  “Oh, tell her,” the smart-assed one begged. “It’s amusing.”

  “This is what happens to the Redeemer who lives, young one,” the reasonable one continued. “She lives and our powers grow stronger. Strong enough to kill a demon. Strong enough to snatch her right out of her life.”

  An almost crippling fear washed over Eden. The dreadful feeling of loss and remorse and guilt threatened to drive her to her knees. “So I am dead. And everything I fought so hard for . . .” she swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Everyone I loved is . . .”

  “Alive and well and wondering what the hell is happening to you right now,” the sneaky one explained. “Because I’m pretty sure you look kind of crazy.”

  Eden didn’t understand.

  “Your body is where you left it, young one,” the reasonable one said. “We don’t yet have the power to bring it to us.”

  “But I’m here.” Eden tried to reason. “How is it that I’m here?”

  “Only your mind. But it’s a start,” the angry one said, quickly raising her weapon and swiping it through the air at Eden, cutting deep across her cheek.

  The pain was real. The smell and taste of her own blood was very real. As Eden stumbled back, off balance, the one behind her, the sarcastic bitch, pushed Eden forward toward the other one, drawing back the blade again, this time cutting into her chest. Eden cried out, and from the corner of her eye saw the weapon coming at her again, but this time she ducked. It missed her and she charged her shoulder into the midsection of the one wielding that damn thing, driving her back into the darkness until she disappeared.

  Just like that, she was gone, like she’d been vaporized or something. Eden was so perplexed by what had just happened that she didn’t hear the sneaky one rushing up behind her, putting her in a headlock, squeezing so tight that Eden couldn’t breathe. The other one, the one she maybe could’ve liked, charged at her from the front, drew back a fist, and landed it square in her ribs, over and over again. The pain was crippling. Eden was losing consciousness. She was getting weaker with every blow.

  Eden! It was Prophet. His voice. Eden! He said her name again.

  They were fast and they were strong and she was outnumbered. But so what? She found the strength to raise one foot off the ground and shove it against the one pummeling her midsection. The creature shoved it away, but Eden raised it again, dug her nails into the arm of the one behind her, and used her for leverage. She raised both feet off the ground and kicked the other one so hard that she too disappeared into the darkness.

  The one who had her in a chokehold still held on tight, and Eden barely had any strength left to hold herself up. The weight of her own body became her enemy.

  Eden. Wake up! Open your eyes, baby.

  “Hush little baby, don’t say a word,” the bitch behind her began to sing, and then she laughed.

  Eden felt her body begin to give way, and the two of them slowly sank to the ground together.

  “That’s it, young one,” the bitch said, soothingly. “Let go.”

  Eden, no.

  Eden sat on the ground with her legs splayed out in front of her. The creature behind her was on her knees, her grip around Eden’s neck still strong.

  “How is it that I’m here?”

  “Only your mind.”

  This wasn’t real. It was. And it wasn’t. “You’re fucking with me,” Eden said suddenly as she opened her eyes.

  Mind games. All of a sudden Eden’s wounds began to fade, and the hold of the creature behind her lessened. She seemed surprised, and then angry, as Eden easily broke free and turned to her. Eden perched on her knees, facing this creature that looked like her, but wasn’t.

  “Time is against you, young one,” she said threateningly.

  “Eventually. But not now.”

  Eden drew back her arm and landed a hard right against the side of the thing’s face, then another as the light from the flame began to fade and darkness closed in around the two of them.

  “I got you, sweetheart,” Prophet said, hovering over her and holding her in his arms. “It’s all right, Eden. I got you.”

  Eden looked up at the blue sky, dotted with clouds. She felt the ground beneath her, and his arms around her. He had her now. But the Omen had had her too. And she knew that they’d be back.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Eden was a constant science project, ever evolving and morphing into the unexpected. And because of that, Prophet had to always be aware, watchful, studying her every move, even when he didn’t appear to be. He couldn’t afford to grow complacent or be distracted, not even for a moment.

  Now Eden lay stretched out on their bed, and Prophet sat in a chair across the room and watched her. The blood on the front of her shirt had dried. The wounds on her face and chest were gone, like they’d never been there at all. Prophet had been helpless to stop whatever it was that had happened to her. In the past his spirit—his essence, or whatever you wanted to call it—had followed hers into whatever nightmare those Omen had dragged her into. Her experiences had been his, and together they’d fought against the Omen. Eden had been able to bond with each of them, and together, they had emerged from each nightmare, shaken but intact.

  This was different.

  Eden’s eyes began to flutter open, and he waited to see if they were green, like the Demon’s, or brown, her natural color. Would he have to fight? Could he fight and win? Could he fight her and not cause her permanent harm? Would she kill him?

  Eden turned her face to him and he sighed. Brown. Slowly, she sat up, scooted back to the wall, rested her back against it, and crossed her legs. For several moments, neither of them said anything, just stared at each other. Finally he spoke up.

  “That was different,” he said, as nonchalantly as he could manage. “Mind telling me what happened?”

  Eden wasn’t under the immediate influence of the Omen, but still there was an air of pride and defiance about her that met and held his gaze with unwavering conviction. He was her alpha, but that position was never completely secure. Both of them knew that, and both of them had worked hard not to let it waver. It was a cooperative effort. He’d fought her for the position after she’d survived the bond with the second Omen, the warrior soul of the Demon Sakarabru. And he’d won. But Prophet hadn’t fought her since she’d bonded with the third and final Omen, coming into her full power.

  Eden looked down and saw the blood on her shirt for the first time. She immediately raised her hand to her cheek, where the first wound had been, and then lowered it cautiously to her chest.

  “The Omen,” she said softly.

  “I gathered as much. What happened? What did they do?”

  Eden seemed to search her memory before responding. “They attacked me,” she said, as if it were a revelation. “The three of them attacked me, but I fought them.”
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br />   She said this as if she were reading from a book, matter-of-fact and straightforward.

  “Why couldn’t I get in?” he probed.

  A green ring circled the brown of her irises. “We didn’t want you there, Guardian.”

  Without moving, Prophet braced himself, preparing to defend himself just as Eden was considering an attack.

  “It’s my role as Guardian to protect you, Eden,” he reminded her. “As I’ve always done. As you’ve always needed me to do.”

  She lowered her chin and stared at him. “Perhaps we don’t need you anymore. We are stronger. You know this.”

  The Omen had her, and the threat of that was all too real right now. “I know. But you know that I’m alpha. Not you.”

  Eden’s pretty, full lips spread into a wry smile. “Not our alpha.”

  “No. But hers.”

  “She’s weak.”

  He shook his head. “You’re confused.”

  The smile faded.

  “You think you have her, but the truth is, she has you. Otherwise, she’d be dead. We’d all be dead.”

  He’d offended them, and as quickly as he managed to get to his feet Eden leapt from the bed. Fast as an eye blink, she drew back her arm and drove it at his head. Prophet leaned to one side before her fist made contact, and she opened up a hole in the wall. As she pulled back her arm he grabbed her by the wrist and spun around. He wrapped his other hand around her waist, bent her attack arm at the elbow, and pinned it behind her.

  He already had her off the ground, and now he spun back to the bed and slammed her face down on the mattress. His advantage was size and speed. It always had been. He had no idea what hers was, but figured that it probably had something to do with melting flesh off bone with some kind of eye lasers or turning things into dust just by conjuring up the image of sand or something. He hoped she wouldn’t go there.