Hot Knights

by Rue Allyn

  “Good work, demon. Your kind never fail to appease me.” Eris blew a kiss in the direction of the gangly black Nunanish that had manifested itself in the forest as directed. Her plan was working flawlessly, almost too flawlessly for a Goddess of Chaos.

  “And you are efficient wielding the axe,” she praised the Quetzalem. Eris smiled, parting her full black lips evilly. “But now it’s time to shift from melodrama to tragedy.” She winked at her muscular accomplice. “Now, heave-ho brute.”

  The dragon-demon’s copper scales flexed as he raised the axe once more and hacked into the ancient tree. The Goddess hadn’t explained to him exactly why he was needed, but he didn’t care to question Chaos. He wasn’t in a mood to question wrong-doing. Nero swung hard, letting his anger and hatred seep into the massive tree. Suddenly, a scream permeated the darkness of the forest. The Quetzalem was taken aback by the blood-chilling sound and he dropped his axe.

  The scream thrilled the Goddess of Chaos, and she threw back her head of long, black dreadlocks. The golden rings in her hair glinted occasionally through the darkness like slivers of moonlight. Looking at the axe, she scoffed. “Any demon strong enough to survive the realms can wield an axe. You are convenient to me for another purpose.”

  The Goddess sauntered to the dragon, her semi-transparent body curving against its hardened scales. “Are you feeling hot, dragon?” she questioned seductively. “Now breathe.”

  • • •

  Sabin approached the clearing where he sensed the presence of the Nunanish, but far more evil permeated from the area. Tera had already warned him of worse. Another cry erupted from her, this one of both mental and physical pain. His stomach twisted into knots as sheer anguish exploded from his love. He felt the shirt he knotted against her wound become even more damp with blood.

  An unfamiliar feeling began to claim him. Desperation. Now the emotion coursed through his body with reckless, tormenting abandon. He was desperate to heal Tera, to save the woman who had opened his eyes to the point of living. He loved her. As he stepped into the clearing, he planted his feet firmly as his eyes took in the horrific scene.

  Just across the clearing, a massive redwood tree stood tall, its bark shades of crimson, purple velvet, and deep green. The tree, like his beloved, had two deep gashes in its skin. His eyes went to the Quetzalem who stood with an axe on the ground before him. The dragon demon’s eyes were vacant of intent, but its body stance said it welcomed battle. Next to the dragon stood the flickering image of a Goddess, the Nunanish demon bowed to the ground by her side.

  The Goddess’ smile, her black stained lips and wrinkled young facade were a giveaway to her identity. Sabin’s fists clenched as he took in the sight of Chaos in astral form. The cowardess. Not that he could have killed her otherwise, but it would have been fun to try.

  He set Tera down gently on the ground. He cursed silently; her body was paling, and she seemed to be slipping in and out of consciousness. “Sabin.” Her emerald eyes were framed by swollen pink rims from her tears, and as she muttered her next words, Sabin’s heart clenched painfully. “Thank you.”

  Setting his love down carefully, he tried to ignore the desperation and finality in her tone. He would save her, she would be okay. With Tera comfortably leaned against a redwood tree, he glared at the dragon demon, and then charged.

  “Fire!” The shrill voice of Chaos erupted excitedly.

  Sabin closed his eyes but continued running toward the dragon-demon even when its wings spread and mouth opened to spew flames. As a Knight of the Fog, his skin was immune to the flames of portal travelers and so he forged ahead through the fire, crushing the demon’s body to the ground. In the background, Eris’ voice cackled excitedly.

  But then the voice of the Goddess turned dark and sinister. “Aim for the tree, Quetzalem!”

  Sabin pummeled the thick skin of the dragon, but when he heard the Goddess’ words, he wrapped both of his hands around the demon’s throat to stop any fire that might escape. But the demon seemed excited by the challenge and used its strong, massive wings to send Sabin flying off of him. The dragon demon turned toward the tree as the Goddess instructed and opened its mouth wide. Red and orange fire spewed toward the massive tree.

  In the blink of an eye, Sabin was back up to throw himself in front of the flames. But the diameter of the fire was too wide, and he heard Tera scream from the impact as some of the flames made it to the redwood.

  The sight of her writhing on the ground, her skin bubbling, smoke rising from her body, fueled a rage in him anew. He reached out to grasp the Quetzalem’s throat once more and the flames ceased. Using his other hand to pull free his gun, he jammed the silver and steel down the dragon-demon’s throat and fired.

  He knew the astral bullets would not kill the Quetzalem, but he watched with satisfaction as the demon choked on its own fire. Reaching toward its head, he snapped the creature’s neck. The demon would still be functional despite the debilitating maneuver, but hearing the crack gave Sabin a brief moment of satisfaction as he continued to pummel the scales.

  Sparing a worried glance in Tera’s direction, afraid of the silence, Sabin saw moss crawl slowly from the forest floor over her body. Baffled by the mystical occurrence, he watched until Tera’s body was almost completely covered in thick lime-green moss.

  “Nunanish, tear apart that moss.” Hearing Eris’ voice focused Sabin from his furor. Slapping handcuffs on the dragon demon, he sent the Quetzalem to the prison in a highly disfigured state, regretting only that he didn’t have enough time to kill the ancient immortal creature.

  “I don’t think so, Chaos.”

  “I am a Goddess, you will address me as such.” She sneered at him as her Nunanish approached Tera’s moss-covered, unconscious form.

  Sabin aimed and fired in an instant, an astral bullet penetrating the Nunanish demon’s blackened skin. Rushing toward his prey, he took advantage of its weakened state, tearing its head clean off.

  “Your playtime is over, Goddess,” his words were dripping with lethal reserve.

  “Oh no, Knight. Actually, it’s just the beginning.”

  Suddenly, a soft, feminine voice broke from between the darkness of the tree. “No, Eris, you are done here.” From the pitch black of the forest, a dim blue light began to glow. The Goddess Artemis stepped lightly across large roots into the clearing. A glowing arrow shot from the darkness of the forest toward Chaos.

  As the light from the arrow flickered, he saw two streaks of mud framing angry, green eyes. Her arrow pierced the astral image of Eris and blood began to seep from her fellow Goddess’ stomach. Artemis stood tall, her feet planted wide, her strong body hugged by her simple brown tunic. “I will not give you the satisfaction of my fury, Eris. Now return home and wallow in the fact that no one will care to tend your wound.”

  The bleeding image flickered, and a single disappointed tear ran down her cheek. And then she disappeared. Sabin and the Goddess Artemis stood in the clearing, a black stain where the body of the Nunanish had dissipated between them. Tera’s still and silent body lay on the mossy hill.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Two days later, Sparrow sat at the divination table wondering if she should scry again for Tera. She hated to be the nosey friend butting into a hot love affair, but the damn woman wasn’t answering her phone. And Tera hadn’t even returned for a change of clothes since she left three days earlier. Probably because she doesn’t need any clothes while she’s with her man.

  Sparrow eyed the map on the divination table. To scry, or not to scry. Walking away from the table, she padded down the long hallway to her bedroom and grabbed the Magic Eight Ball from atop her dresser. Holding the device in the palm of her hands, she concentrated on her question and shook the ball. Is Tera having hot sex? The blue-black liquid inside the ball swished, moving different answers back and forth. “All signs point to no.” Sparrow raised an eyebrow. Bummer. Panic washed over her.

  “If the girl’s not having sex, then wh
at is she doing?” Shaking the ball once more, she concentrated on her next question. Is Tera okay? Again, various answers jumbled inside the liquid until, “No.”

  She gasped, “Are you kidding me?”

  Running back down the hall with bare feet, she yelled for her aunts, but she knew they weren’t home. She’d have to scry on her own. Sparrow blamed it on her mom that she wasn’t very good at tapping into her natural-born powers, but she had no choice except to go it alone this time.

  Lying on the floor of the meditation room, she let her mind go free to seep into meditation. Five minutes later, she had not meditated whatsoever, and instead had gone over every possible scenario of what could have happened to Tera. “Screw meditation. I’m a born Wiccan.”

  Deciding to just go for it, she sat in front of the map dangling a crystal from her fingertips. “Concentrate, Sparrow.” But seconds later, she realized the crystal wasn’t going to cooperate. Using a booming voice as she balanced the chain between her fingertips, she used her most effective incantation. “I am Sparrow! Hear me roar.” Yeah, like that was going to work. Time to pull out the big guns.

  Poking her head out of the divination room, she glanced up and down the hallways. Still nobody home. Navigating her way to the kitchen, Sparrow opened the fridge and spied the bottle of absinthe. It’s five o’clock somewhere . . .

  She eyed the bottle ruefully. Absinthe was nice when muddled with caramelized sugar and ice water, and sipped over a long hour—not binging for magickal purposes. After this, I’m signing up for Drunken Wiccans Anonymous.

  Grabbing a souvenir shot glass from her last family trip to Ireland, Sparrow made her way back to the divination room. On one side, MP3 speakers sat, surrounded by a rainbow of large candles. If I’m going to get plastered, might as well do it in style. She scrolled through the music player until she reached her drinking play list.

  The strums of Harry Nilsson’s famous coconut ballad began as she prepared to slam back her first shot of however many was necessary to lose herself to the magickal side of her mind.

  Wincing from the potent alcohol and licorice twang of the drink, she slammed down her shot glass and began filling another one to the brim.

  She poured more mint-colored liquor down her throat. “Feel the burn.” Her voice took on a sexy rasp from the alcohol as she crooned before her next shot. The Celtic cross on her shot glass welcomed the sea-foamy green liquid.

  “Oww-oh woot!”

  Clearly, the wormwood and thujone in the 140-percent-proof absinthe was quickly settling in. By the time the song ended, Sparrow was quickly realizing if she drank any more, she’d probably pass out before she ever got a chance to scry.

  In her mind, Sparrow waltzed gracefully over to the music player and switched the off button. In truth, her tiny feet crisscrossed wildly and she all but collided with the stereo. Collapsing back into the chair, she grasped the chain with the crystal between her fingertips and held it above the map.

  Closing her eyes, her lids grew heavy and her mind was free of sarcastic commentary and worry over Tera. Focusing her eyes on the rambunctious crystal swaying from within her grip, Sparrow realized that indeed, she was drunk.

  Suddenly, the crystal came to a halt and pulled heavily toward the map. Muir Woods.

  Sparrow sprang from her chair in a rush and nearly fell to the ground as the room spun around her. Making a mental note to get up more slowly next time, she made her way through the house and out the back door into the garden.

  Hopefully, this is as drunk as I get. She crossed her fingers that no more of the absinthe would kick in as time passed. She felt the owl tattoo burn and tingle on her skin before she became the bird of prey and shot straight up into the air. Northwest to Muir Woods, I know the path well. Here I come, Tera.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A thick fog hung around the perimeter of the clearing, knocking out any possible visitors. Sabin sat comfortably against a massive tree, his long legs stretched out before him. Soft moss cushioned the exposed skin of his back. The gentle whisper from a nearby waterfall hummed through the woods. His crystalline eyes had been focused on Tera’s sleeping form for three days now. Artemis had assured him that when she awoke, the healing properties of the forest would have her fully recovered.

  The Goddess of the Hunt had not been in a good mood and she certainly did not appreciate his presence. However, he wasn’t happy with himself either after allowing harm to come to Tera. Artemis had not stayed long, instead leaving to rein in Chaos’ wrath.

  Three days had been a long time to contemplate a life without Tera. It only took two seconds to realize that he could not fathom the thought. His immortal soul would simply not be complete without her. Although not able to forsake his duties as a Knight, he had already decided that he’d spend every spare moment convincing Tera that he could be her life-mate.

  Although she would have the long life span of a redwood tree, and he would keep a watchful eye upon Chaos, he knew that eventually he would lose her to mortality. But to turn away from the Dryad now, Sabin could only live a menial existence knowing his love lie just on the other side of the portal. His Tera. So full of life and wit, an earthly beauty unrivaled and strong in both mind and body. And her heart—if only he could have a small corner of it, he would be fulfilled.

  Three days had been enough time to imagine their life together. After his daily duties in the Fog were over, he’d travel to her realm, wherever she was. If she were making coffee in her shop, he’d brew beside her. If she were eating, he would feed her. If she were sleeping, he’d awaken her with pleasure.

  He guessed that Tera, raised by the Goddess of the Hunt, would be resistant to his more serious affections, but he would persevere. He would pleasure her until she became addicted to his presence. After all, he was already addicted to hers and they had spent only two days together, five if you counted present unconscious circumstances. And he did. He counted every precious moment he was with her.

  Sabin removed one of the knives from the holster strapped to his chest and began to sharpen the blade with a stone he found. Sharpening the weapon took a sliver of the worry away from the concern he held for Tera. Artemis had spoken briskly to him in her assurance of Tera’s recovery; the myths were certainly true regarding her adversity of men. All the tales of the Goddess of the Hunt that he had heard consisted of deceit, treachery, and disrespect from men, which led the Goddess to adopt her bitter level of distrust.

  From high above the fog that settled upon the forest, a screech permeated the air. He looked up just in time to see an owl dive-bombing his head. Sabin ducked and caught the bird gently within his hands. Careful not to injure the owl, he smiled against the angry pecks to his fingers. He was almost sure that the bird was probably Tera’s Wiccan friend that she had spoken so fondly of.

  The bird writhed and squawked within his grip before it suddenly became a young woman with long yellow-blond hair and angry blue eyes. He dropped his hands from her immediately.

  “Allow me to introd—”

  “What did youuu do to herrr?” Sparrow yelled and he took the impact of her flimsy jab. The girl was much shorter than Tera, and probably couldn’t even reach his face if she tried. To get on her good side, Sabin let her exhaust a few more enraged punches at his midsection. But when she reached for the knife in his hand he held it high above her head and clearly out of grasp.

  “Youuuu jerk, where is she?”

  Sabin bent his head down toward the girl, risking a jab, and took a whiff of a peculiar scent. The smell was floral with a hint of anise and fire. He recognized the aroma immediately. His Knights had spent many evenings through the portals in Czechoslovakia and France sipping Artemisia absinthium during l’heure verte, or what the French called the green hour. Ironic, he thought, that the proper name referred to the Goddess of the hour, Artemis.

  “Perhaps, tiny one, your skills in combat would be more effective if you were not highly intoxicated.” He placed a hand atop her head, his lo
ng arm keeping her at a distance. But the girl was gone and an owl dove toward his head once more. He threw an arm up to shield his face from the talons and began chanting to bring the fog closer. He wouldn’t need much to put out the already intoxicated Wiccan.

  In just a couple of moments the owl’s flight pattern turned clumsy and Sabin caught it as it fell through the air. He laid the owl on the ground gently just before it turned back into the young woman.

  An hour later, Sabin heard what he had been waiting for. A soft murmur escaped from the mound of moss. He was at Tera’s side in an instant, peeling the green tufts away from her body.

  “Tera.” Sabin cradled his love against his body as she hesitantly took in her surroundings and the moss still covering her legs. Placing a palm lovingly against her cheek, he comforted her like he wanted to do for the rest of her life. “You’re okay, my love.”

  • • •

  When Tera peeled open her eyelids, darkness still covered her vision. Panic slammed through her body. She was dead. A whimper escaped her, but in a moment, the darkness parted and she took in the sight of her woods. A strong body held her tightly. Tilting her head upward, guided by a gentle hand, she saw the gorgeous warrior. His hair hung against his shoulders, framing concerned eyes, eyes the color of aquamarine. His face was otherworldly; perhaps she was in heaven.

  Hearing Sabin speak to her so lovingly was dreamy. Heaving a sigh and smiling up at the warrior, she decided that heaven wasn’t half bad. It seemed like a better version of home actually. But then a subtle pain gnawed at her stomach and Tera realized that she was very much alive, and hungry.

  “Your love?” she squeaked.

  “Yes. But I will not overwhelm you with such matters now. How do you feel?”

  Tera hesitated to discontinue the topic he so expertly evaded. “A little sore.” Then the events leading up to this moment flooded her. The dragon, the fire. Horrified, she reached to touch her face and feel for the burn marks, the scars that would surely be there.