by Jayde Brooks
“It’s not you I don’t trust,” she finally said. “It’s me. You are my weakness, and they know it. And they would use my weakness against me. And I know that.”
Eden had been the one who blocked him from getting to her.
“I’m not afraid of them.”
“You should be. They’re changing, Prophet. Their desperation is changing them. I’ve done what I was never meant to do and they’re pissed. I’ve done what couldn’t be done and they hate me for it. I have no secrets from them anymore. I have no privacy. I’m an open book to them and they know that you—that you . . .” Eden pursed her lips together to keep from crying. “If they get to you, then I’m done. I know it. They know it.”
“My role is to protect you, young one. Not the other way around.”
“Shh.” She pressed her finger to her lips.
“I’m not afraid, Eden.”
Beloved!
He held her gaze, but an alarm shot through him. Prophet stared quizzically at her, worried that the Omen might be rising up inside her to take her again. “Eden? Are you all right?”
He waited for her eyes to change color, but they didn’t.
“I’m tired,” she managed to smile. “That’s all.”
Beloved! Where are you? I need you.
She was calling to him, but the two of them were here, together. Why would she call for him now? Unless it was the Omen trying to trick him. Did she know? “I should get you home,” he said, trying to ignore the powerful call to him from his Beloved desperately pulling him from his center, his gut.
This wasn’t right. It made no sense, but he couldn’t afford to question her about it. She seemed oblivious to what she was doing. If it was the Omen, he couldn’t afford to react to them. He couldn’t risk triggering a response in Eden.
“I thought you were going to pitch a tent here,” she laughed, sounding like his beautiful human lover.
“Next time,” he said, calmly, standing up and holding out his hand to help her to her feet.
“Dang it,” she protested and sighed. She raised her arms and wrapped them around him as Prophet picked her up.
Tukufu! Come. Please.
Tukufu? Eden knew him by that name, but she seldom used it. It had to have been the Omen. Who else could it have been?
Guardian! Come to me! Tukufu! Hurry!
Prophet was unnerved by how convincing they sounded—felt. They made him believe that the call came from his mate. If he hadn’t been carrying her in his arms at this moment, he’d have flown off in an instant to find her. Her call was a beacon to him, potent like a homing device. If he’d have answered this call, it would have led him into a trap. Eden was right. Those fucking Omen were playing a new kind of game.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Using superhuman strength, Eden abruptly leaped fifteen feet from Prophet’s arms and hit the ground running in full stride, heading toward the screams coming from the burning motel just off an isolated stretch of a two-lane highway. Prophet landed fifty yards ahead of her, leading the charge and pulling away from Eden. She glanced quickly at the large semi parked on the side of the road. There were two armed men standing behind it, swinging open the doors. For now, they were an afterthought.
Her heart pounded, her palms began to sweat, and adrenaline flooded her veins. She was in her element, relishing the anticipation of the first strike she felt building and coiling in her arms as she pulled her kpinga from the sheath strapped tightly to her back. Most of the time she hardly noticed that it was even there, but every time she had to reach for it she breathed a sigh of relief that it was. The first strike came as an effortless flow, a natural movement from the extension of her arm as she stretched it out in front of her, gripping it tightly in her hand. She swiped it across the broad back of a man who had never even heard her coming and hurtled over his body as it fell to the ground.
Shots were fired, but she had no idea where they were coming from or whether they were aimed at her. She didn’t have time to think about it. She moved swiftly, ducking and spinning, swinging her weapon, using the two blades on either side of it to stab through hearts and lungs. Eden used the third blade at the top of her weapon to drive into skulls. She lunged fearlessly at men twice her size, planted both feet against their chests, and drove one blade of her kpinga into throats. One woman aimed a handgun at Eden, but before she could pull the trigger Eden swept the woman’s feet out from under her, grabbed a handful of her hair, jerked her to the ground, and crushed her neck with her fist.
Out of the corner of her eye, Eden caught sight of several children being herded away toward the truck. She raced over, stabbed one of the traffickers through the temple, and drove her weapon through the chest of the other one before they’d even seen her coming. Neither of the men fell. Eden was stunned. One turned to her, and before she could react he was behind her, squeezing the tips of his fingers into her throat, choking her. The other spun so quickly that he was nothing more than a blur to her, and landed the heel of his boot in her midsection. Vamps!
These motherfuckers wouldn’t die! Prophet had broken spines, punched holes through chests, even twisted a few necks, but the bastards still swarmed him like bees. They were quick, almost as quick as he was, and their numbers were overpowering. Dozens of them, maybe even hundreds, mauled him, kicked and punched him, bit into him. They’d cracked several of his ribs, had maybe even fractured his hand, but those things were never enough to keep the Guardian down.
He managed to spot Eden caught between two of the bastards. One held her under her arms, keeping her off the ground. The other had her by the legs, pulling them in opposite directions. While he was distracted, another of the bastards wrapped his arms around Prophet’s neck and bit into his shoulder.
“Get the fuck off me!” Prophet growled, reaching up and dragging the bastard forward over his shoulder, then driving him down onto his back at his feet.
Prophet raised his knee and planted the heel of his foot down hard on the fucker’s skull, crushing it like a walnut. The body convulsed in a maddening frenzy. But the fucker didn’t get up.
“Heads,” he muttered his revelation.
They needed to be decapitated.
“T-take off the heads!” he yelled, fighting the others who had hold of him. “Eden! Take off—heads!”
He broke free from the several left holding him long enough to escape and get to the one holding Eden by the heels. He wrapped his massive hands around the bastard’s skull, and pressed as hard as he could until he could feel bone start to give away in his grasp. In less than a minute, the body fell to the ground, writhing in agony like the other one.
Eden planted her feet, arched her back, and slipped out of the grasp of the other one holding on to her. Grabbing her kpinga on the ground next to her, she pierced the vamp through the chest long enough to slow it down, then twisted her body to face him and plunged the longest blade of the weapon under his chin until the other end of it came out through the top of his head. The vamp stumbled, stunned, away from her, but she held on to the hilt of the weapon and, using one of the other blades as leverage, she pushed and twisted it until it split the beast’s head open.
“Nooooo!” a woman screamed, holding a small child to her chest, as she knelt over the body of a man.
Two other men rushed her. One snatched the child from her arms as the other punched her in the face, knocking her unconscious, then hoisted her over his shoulder and rushed toward the truck. Prophet landed in front of the man carrying the child, grabbed the man by the neck, and lifted him a foot off the ground. Instinctively, he dropped the infant, but the Guardian caught it with his other hand. With a squeeze, he crushed the bones in the human’s neck and let him fall. The other man dropped the woman and backed away as Prophet stalked him.
“G-Guardian?” he said, shaking his head and raising his hands in surrender. “You’re h-him?”
Prophet handed the child to the woman, who was struggling to sit up. He rushed the man, planted both h
ands square in the human’s chest, and watched him fly twenty yards through the air. Before he’d even hit the ground, Prophet was on top of him, drawing back his fist to crush the man’s face.
“She’s looking for you,” the man said frantically. “Sh-she’s looking—”
Prophet paused. Who the fuck was this idiot talking about?
“The—Mkom—bozi?”
He lowered his fist at the mention of her name, and glared at this asshole.
“The Ancient,” the human continued, shaking. “The one called Mkombozi.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he growled in the man’s face. “How do you know that name?”
“I-I’ve seen her,” he said, his eyes wide with fear.
In another life this bastard was probably an accountant or some shit. Now he stole and sold human beings for a living and he was a fucking storyteller.
“Impossible!” Prophet spat, losing patience. He grabbed the human by the collar again and drew back his fist.
“Dark hair! B-Beautiful. Tall with golden skin. I-I-I’ve seen her.”
Half a dozen vamps grabbed Prophet from behind.
There were so many. The more Eden fought, the more there seemed to be. While the traffickers were busy dragging the other humans to the truck, these vamps attacked her and Prophet and they kept coming. Taking off heads worked, but it was easier said than done.
Let us!
Yes!
“No!” she said, jumping onto the shoulder of one and plunging her kpinga through the top of his head.
Again she twisted, and rocked the weapon from side to side. The creature released a deafening screech as she made soup of his brains, until finally he fell. But just as soon as he did, another one had her from behind.
Let us, young one!
Too many.
You need us.
Eden struggled free from the one behind her, stabbed him in the chest, and ran as others started surrounding her. A blow came from nowhere and landed against the side of her face. She stumbled, but didn’t fall. She couldn’t afford to fall. They’d kill her if she did. Behind blurred vision, Eden watched humans being dragged and carried away, helpless to save themselves.
“Prophet,” she gasped, feeling her body being pulled toward the ground.
Let us!
The sound of Prophet’s voice echoed through the air. Suddenly, the already dark sky disappeared, and Eden was airborne. The Guardian had her.
Let us!
She couldn’t save them. Not as Eden.
As the Guardian carried her away, Eden raised her lips to his ear. “Release me,” she murmured.
“There are too many,” he told her. “We can’t fight them all. We can’t win.”
Yes. Let us, young one.
Eden put her hand on his face and turned it to hers. A glow of green reflected from his eyes. “Release me, Guardian.”
Prophet slowly began to descend and gently placed her on the ground. A hundred vamps raced toward the two of them at lightning fast speed.
They disgust us.
Agreed.
Heads, he said?
I believe he did.
It was as simple as a thought. As easy as breathing. One by one, they began to fall. She wanted them to suffer, to know the agony of what was happening to them. It would’ve been easy to just remove their heads from their bodies, to just make a wish and watch them vanish. But Eden wanted them to experience the pain of their deaths. She watched in awe when they realized the sensation of having the skin peeled away from their faces, scalps separating from skulls. She marveled at the horror filling their eyes as they heard the first sound of a skull being cracked open and then separating, pulling, and widening as the brains in their heads bubbled and simmered like soup.
They are nothing.
Certainly no match for us.
Indeed.
Neither is she.
Time stood still as she waited and watched each of them fall, convulsing and slashing around on the ground like fish.
Is she gone?
Yes!
Are we alone?
Yes!
“Eden?”
The debris of bodies on the ground was satisfying.
“Eden? It’s over.”
Eden. Where was Eden?
“It’s over, baby.” The Guardian’s arm encircled her waist.
Stop him!
Eden turned to him.
Make him go away.
Make him leave us.
He cried out. Clutched the sides of his head and stumbled backward.
“Eden!” he yelled, the silver orbs of his eyes locked on to hers.
How dare he!
“Enough!” he shouted.
Blood began to seep from his nostrils and ears. She wanted him on his knees.
“No!” he protested, willing himself to stand, defying her.
Break him!
“Eden,” he said, out of breath. “It’s me, Beloved. Don’t! Don’t do this.”
Don’t. “Prophet?” she muttered.
Too much. Eden had given them too much of her. She was here. She was still here.
No! They yelled in unison.
They’d kill him. If she didn’t pull them back, then they’d kill him. Eden closed her eyes and forced her own conscience back to the forefront, trampling over their voices, over their will. She’d done it before. She had to do it this time.
Prophet came to her, and pulled her into his arms. “Come back to me, baby,” he repeated, holding her tight.
Eden followed the sound of his voice, his touch and his scent. She was the world’s savior, but he was hers.
“I’m right here.”
Yes. Yes, he was.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Every species had its alphas, and the vamps were no different. There were six alpha vamps in the world. Van Dureel touted himself as one of the strongest, commanding more drones than any other—mobilized, organized, and growing more powerful with time. As humans began to emerge from their sanctuaries and rebuild their societies, his army laid in wait, mapping out a plot to take over their governments, corporations, and military forces. That was the bigger plan, a lofty long-term goal. The only things standing in the way were the Ancients, who were mighty, but limited in number. Once upon a time, they had been many and they had been united. But not anymore.
Don’t fuck with the Elitests. That was the motto of the Vampyre nation, and it had been drilled into him since he was born. Most Shifters and all Weres and Guardians were at the top of the fucking food chain. You avoided them at all cost. It was considered a death wish to even look one of them in the eye. Most of the time, vamps stayed in their colonies as far removed from the Elitests as possible. And if they did venture into their cities, they scurried like insects to avoid the reigning Theians.
Vampyre had become so adept at being elusive that Van Dureel doubted seriously that many Ancients today would even recognize a vamp if they saw one. It was just that elusive behavior that had helped the vamps to survive in Theia and to thrive in this world. Van Dureel was no longer hiding, though. And the Elitests were no longer in power. This world was ripe for vamps. Human blood was fattening, rich, and plentiful. And human beings were weak. Even an alpha needed counsel every now and then. Van Dureel counted on one of the oldest Vampyre from his hive, an old dude named Van Astin.
Van Astin preferred his solitude. He lived alone in a cabin in rural West Virginia, and had lived there since he’d come to this world, but he’d agreed to meet Van Dureel in one of the beach cottages near Van Dureel’s main house. The old vamp lived off well water and young boys, siphoning from them over time until there was nothing left.
“Mkombozi,” the old man said, nodding his head thoughtfully as he repeated the name.
“Says she’s the Redeemer of Theia,” Van Dureel explained, studying the old vamp for a reaction. “But if that’s true, wouldn’t that make her responsible for its destruction as well?”
Van Astin was
older than, well, Theian dirt. His white hair contrasted starkly with his black eyes. “Yes,” he said.
See, the problem with Van Astin was that he was a vamp of few words, which was fine when Van Dureel wasn’t in the mood to be chatty, but was irritating as fuck when he wanted more information about the beautiful and deadly Ancient sleeping in his bed.
“So, do you think she’s lying?” he probed. “Didn’t the Redeemer die in The Fall?”
The older vamp inhaled deeply on a blunt. “Khale cast the Spell of Dissolution against her, killing her. Yes.”
“Then how could she be here? How could she come back from the dead? Or is my Ancient beauty lying to me?”
Van Astin raised a thick eyebrow. “How beautiful.”
Van Dureel shrugged. “Like, beyond beautiful, beautiful. Like in an unnatural, unnerving sort of way.”
“Dark hair? Tall? Ocean blue eyes? Theian ocean blue?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
The old vamp sighed. “Well, shit. Sure sounds like the Redeemer.”
“She could just be one of the Elitest,” he countered. “Right? I mean, she could be anybody.”
Van Astin shook his head gently. “Could be, but why would anyone claim to be Mkombozi? Especially considered how many lives she ruined.”
Van Dureel was starting to think that talking to this guy was a waste of time.
“Talk of the Great Shifter’s child moved through the valley like smoke. Rumor had it that she was divine, born to save us all in a time of great peril.”
“The demon wars,” Van Dureel concluded.
Van Astin looked lost in his thoughts. “I’d heard that he was her father.”
“The Demon?”
He nodded. “Yeah.”
Van Dureel waited for the dude to elaborate. Van Astin took another drag of his blunt. All of a sudden, one of Van Dureel’s generals rushed in, dragging a human behind him.
“Tell him,” the general demanded. “Tell him what you saw.”
The wide-eyed human looked absolutely terrified. “She killed them,” he finally managed to say, shakily. “She killed over a hundred just by looking at them.”
