Evermore (Descendants of Ra: Book 3)

by Tmonique Stephens

  A hiss started low in Emeline’s throat. Cold sweat leeched from her skin, causing her to tremble. “You want me to be your whore?”

  Ridley laughed. “If that’s what’s necessary.”

  She has lost her mind. “Get someone else. Or better, you do it!” Emeline shouted. Two bright spots bloomed on Ridley’s cheeks. Hmm? The thought must’ve crossed her mind.

  “He’s made a point of finding and following you every time he’s in the city, not me. Do what I ask and you’re out. Don’t…”

  The unspoken threat hung in the air. A thud echoed in the living room and Grand’s oxygen tank started beeping. A chill raced up Emeline’s spine. She rushed out of the kitchen to check on her grandfather. Ridley slammed into Emeline’s side. She flew into the wall and crashed in a heap in the hallway. Pinned on her stomach, Emeline struggled against the unseen bonds as Ridley chanted in a strange dialect.

  Where did Ridley get this abnormal power?

  Ridley’s footsteps whispered against the floor and her red Doc Martens came into view. She dropped to her haunches beside Emeline. “Your grandfather is all you have left. He’s only 92 years young. I’m sure he has another thirty left in him, or he may die in the next five minutes. Your choice.” She tsked.

  Emeline struggled to rise, pushed with all her might, and failed. In other words, she had no choice. She met Ridley’s cold scrutiny. “I have no idea how to do what you want!”

  Avery Nicolis had no obvious weaknesses. No vices. None of the Nicolis men did. The other brothers dallied with women, not Avery. A few one-night stands were noted in his files, but no girlfriends. He cared for no one but his family. And now she was supposed to seduce him to trap him for Ridley?

  “I know you’re not smart enough to figure this out. That’s why I’ve figured it out for you. It’s actually very simple. In the end, Avery Nicolis is a security guard. He guards things. So, we just need to give him something to guard.”

  “Eme?” Grand choked over the beeping tank.

  “S-stay there, Grand.” The tank must’ve been damaged when it fell. She had to get him a new tank.

  “Yes. Grand should stay…alive to live another day.” Ridley nodded.

  “Emeline?” Grand called again. The recliner creaked. Feet shuffled for a moment then his cane clattered to the floor, followed by another thud.

  “Grand!” The machine went into its death throes, screeching like a dying animal. Grand wasn’t strong enough to shut the valve off.

  “Oops! That sounded painful, Emeline. I hope he hasn’t hurt himself. Old people are so fragile.”

  “Eme.” Wheezing. Air rattled in his chest.

  Ridley leaned closer until the gold oval locket around her neck dangled in front of Emeline’s eyes and her breath fanned Emeline’s face. “Help me out here, Eme. Don’t make me do something you will regret.”

  Something flickered in the depth of Ridley’s eyes—remorse? Was that a flash of guilt? Emeline blinked and what she thought she saw was gone, replaced by determination. “No. I’m not gonna help you do this.”

  “Why? He’s a killer and deserves what’s coming to him. And the Order will finally have the answers we desire about the elusive Nicolis men.”

  Bullshit. The real prize was Roman Nicolis. The rest of the ‘brothers’ were small potatoes, capable, but not immortal. “Then capture Roman and leave Avery alone.”

  Ridley grabbed Emeline’s head and slammed it into the floor.

  How did she get so strong? Speed was Ridley’s skill, not strength, and not the power to pin her to the floor without even touching her.

  “When I release you I’m going into the living room and introduce myself to your grandfather. Do you want me to do that, Emeline?”

  Darkness framed her vision and threatened to smother Emeline in a thick shroud. Light, sound, air, warmth quickly vanished, leaving a blanket of terror. A scream tore through her throat and erupted from her mouth, but she couldn’t hear it.

  A void suffocated her until Ridley’s voice came through the darkness. “Do this and move on to the next task.” Ridley had reduced Emeline to a task. A box to check off and forget. A slap to her cheek cleared the fog clouding her mind and she sucked in a painful breath of sweet air.

  Ridley released her. “Do you agree?”

  No, Emeline didn’t. But ice clung to her heart. She’d never be warm again. And she had no choice. Her head bobbed up and down, the decision made.

  “Good.” Ridley stood. “Sorry,” she whispered. “But I have to make you look like a victim. Someone who needs a strong man to rescue them.”

  Emeline couldn’t avoid the kick to her ribs. Pain shot through her chest and fueled her hatred. Ridley would pay.

  “That ought to be enough to get the ball rolling. More motivation will come at an appropriate time, just to make sure you have Avery’s undivided attention.”

  “When?” Emeline said through the pain burning her insides.

  “Timing is key. I’ll let you know. For now, I need to get the plan in motion.” Ridley picked up the house phone and dialed 911. “Help, police.” Then she hung up.

  “What happens when it’s done?” Emeline wanted her gone.

  Ridley’s voice hitched on an intake of air. She paused and Emeline waited, understanding how important the next words would be. “You’re free…forever.”

  Free forever, as in dead and buried in an unmarked grave.

  Ridley looked at the time on her cell. “Time to go. I have another appointment to keep.”

  Emeline’s guest disappeared into the kitchen, her footsteps fading as she exited through the back door, leaving broken glass in her wake and two lives in the balance.

  Chapter Two

  Avery Nicolis walked up to a small, dark, single family home with a bald patch of earth for a front yard and a view of an abandoned textile company across the street. His two brothers, EJ and Quin were beside him. Sickly yellow light from the street lamp did little to illuminate the property or the boarded homes next to their target.

  “This doesn’t look like a temple. You sure you got the right address?” EJ mumbled. Quin gave EJ a hard stare and headed towards the rear. EJ followed with his gun clasped at his side.

  Avery waited until his brothers disappeared to push aside the dead branches of two bushes guarding a window. They crackled and snapped, sending a warning to any inhabitants although the forewarning wouldn’t help them. The house was ground zero, literally and figuratively, and proof to the world that the American dream was a brutal myth.

  He peeked through a slight part in the curtains. Devoid of furniture, the place was an empty shell. He vaulted over the weathered railing and landed on the creaking porch. Briefly, the scarred skin on his right shoulder and back tightened causing him to pause. It had been so long since he’d felt anything but a vague itch in the damaged area that he looked at his shoulder as if it were a separate entity attached to his body.

  He’d lived with the disfigurement most of his life. Badge of honor. Coat of shame. He wore both titles indiscriminately, but today something was different. Felt different. A chill seized him and he shivered. Not unusual for November, but no air stirred. The night was calm, waiting for something to happen. Tragedy or victory, the night would celebrate both equally.

  Avery rolled the tense muscles in his shoulder and shrugged off the sensation. He refocused on the present task and picked the lock to the front door. The stale scent of fried foods and cigarettes clung to the frigid air. A crash came from the back of the house, followed by crunching glass. Quin and EJ strode into the living room as if they were guests for Thanksgiving.

  “What’s a little breaking and entering without some breaking?” EJ’s macabre grin stretched across his face. “Otherwise, it’s just entering. And I like breaking things.”

  Quin flicked on a Maglite and circled the room.

  “Kill the light before we have official visitors,” Avery ordered.

  Quin doused it and slipped on a pair of
night goggles. “Unlike you two, I don’t have night vision eyes. I can’t see shit.”

  “That’s why you brought us. Spread out and search for anything interesting.” Avery moved from the tiny living room to the dilapidated staircase, hoping it wouldn’t crumble before he made it to the upper level.

  “Yes, sir.” EJ gave him a haphazard salute, full of contempt, and crept toward the dining room with Quin trailing behind him.

  Avery took a step on a creaky stair and stopped. Beneath the other lingering odors, something more dangerous than a fatty meal and a fast track to lung cancer lurked. “You don’t smell that?” He tilted his head back and sniffed the air.

  “What?” EJ returned.

  Avery ignored the question. He left the stairs and crossed to the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway and took in the discarded pizza cartons and a mouse scurrying behind a Styrofoam container on the tiny countertop. His gaze settled on a door next to the refrigerator. Ever since the night of the brawl at club RedZone, his already acute senses had kicked up a notch. As if being knocked over the head with a chair had not only scrambled his brain, but also shaken something else loose, something more primitive than what he already strained to leash.

  He yanked the basement door open and the odor smacked him. Fetid meat in a rose garden described it best. He brought his gun up and gave a cursory glance at EJ, making sure his baby brother had done the same. Quin’s katanas quietly swooshed from their twin sheaths on his back. Silently, they filed down the groaning basement stairs. A motion-activated light blinked from a low-hanging beam, illuminating the small basement and the crater in the center of the floor.

  “Somebody likes to dig,” Avery murmured. He crouched low and peered into the hole. “There’s a tunnel.”

  “I didn’t plan for this.” Face tense, Quin peered into the hole.

  “OMG, you didn’t know there was gonna be a hole in the floor?” Eyes wide, mouth parted in an exaggerated ‘O’, EJ did his best imitation of a teenage girl.

  “Couldn’t dig this up on your computer, huh?” Avery asked Quin.

  “Kiss my left nut.” Quin directed his sarcasm at both of them. EJ choked back a laugh while Avery grinned.

  “We don’t know what’s on the other end of that tunnel. Whatever those things are, they could be waiting to ambush us. We came here looking for a few ‘human’ acolytes of Alamut. We’re not prepared to take on anything else, like his hybrid army,” Quin said.

  With the life they led, they had to be prepared for anything. Or end up dead. “Afraid, Quin?” All humor had left Avery’s voice and face. Determination steeled his nerves. He didn’t have time for fear, or those who let the toxic emotion eat away at them.

  “Alamut nearly killed Roman, and he’s immortal. Bullets won’t stop Alamut or his army and all you two have are six guns and a few knives. How far do you think that’ll get us?” Quin argued.

  “Far enough. We haven’t come all this way to tuck tail at the first sign of trouble,” Avery said.

  “There are three of us and probably one of him.” EJ’s voice cut through the tension.

  “Besides—” Avery shrugged. “You’re the one with the swords. You can protect the women and children.” Avery stepped off the ledge and landed at the bottom of the pit ten feet below. A second later EJ followed, and then Quin.

  The Three Musketeers or The Three Stooges, they’d find out soon. Avery stifled his constant anger as two sets of footsteps fell in line behind him. Controlling it wasn’t as easy as it used to be. Lately, anger was the only emotion he felt.

  They came here searching for their brother Daniel, AKA Alamut—bitch to Anubis, an Egyptian God with mommy and daddy issues, AKA the Village Strangler, AKA a fucking corpse when they found him.

  The family and every cop in the city had spent the entire summer searching for the maniac who’d killed eleven people. What the public didn’t know was that Alamut was also a shape-shifting monster leading an army of shape-shifting monsters. The Nicolis men didn’t do anything halfway.

  More lights flickered on as they moved quietly through the tunnel. The weight of the earth seemed to press on him. Wooden supports lined the wall and roof, holding back the dirt and rocks. Still, dirt filled the air like dust.

  “Hey, who’s the woman and who’s the child?” EJ mumbled.

  “You’re both.” Avery returned and smirked at EJ’s scowl. At least he still had a sense of humor. An ache started deep in Avery’s damaged muscles. First, a distant throb which escalated to a wrenching tightness that left his fingers numb. Wonderful, a new way to remind himself of his limitations.

  “The element of surprise is gone.” Quin sighed and raised his katanas. The practical brother in the Nicolis clan, Quin was more comfortable seat in front of his bank of computers. Although Quin had discovered the house, purchased in the maiden name of Daniel’s biological mother, Avery wished he had left Quin back at RockGate. Yeah, they played for the same team, but Quin had a way of rubbing Avery wrong. Then again, everyone did.

  “Let’s not keep our host waiting,” Avery growled and charged the remaining distance. The tunnel curved, dipped lower, and ended at an opening with an extended metal walkway stretching from the rim. He stopped and peered down. The toes of his combat boots hung over the edge of the tunnel.

  “What. The. Fuck?” EJ gritted as he peered over Avery’s shoulder.

  Avery freed his Glocks from their shoulder holsters under his coat. Both weapons trembled. That alone should’ve been enough to rattle him. Tonight, it wasn’t close. Below them, at the bottom of the pit, in an iridescent green soup, lay dozens of quimaeras: Alamut’s hybrid army, each with a face like a crocodile, neck flared like a cobra, scaly body which walked upright, and a barbed serpent tail. A nightmare summed it up best. Roman, their immortal leader, had stopped Alamut at the cabin upstate in the Catskills a few months ago, but Alamut had proven hard to kill, then disappeared. Avery, EJ, and Quin had witnessed Reign—Roman’s missing twin—kill three of the beasts in the RedZone less than two weeks ago. Roman had taken all night to hack Alamut into pieces with a broadsword, and the bastard was still alive, while Reign had incinerated his monsters with a blade created by the Egyptian Gods.

  And now they had discovered an entire pit chock full of them.

  “I think they’re asleep,” Quin muttered.

  “Where are we?” EJ asked.

  In the darkness, Avery discerned wooden rafters and a skylight through a hole in the second floor of the structure. Quin pointed to a ladder bolted to the wall. Slow and steady, he moved across the rickety walkway and grabbed the slime-covered rung, then climbed.

  EJ followed and ambled up the ladder after him. “We could use Ty right now. Why have a badass demi-god in your corner if you’re not going to use him?” he grumbled.

  “He’s in Egypt with Brayden. Something personal. He flashed out of the room before I could get more,” Quin said.

  “Cut the chatter and climb,” Avery ordered as he secured his weapons.

  He placed his foot on one rung and then reached for another one with his right hand. With a firm grip, he tested the arm’s strength until he was certain it would support him. The scar pulled tight as he swung himself onto the ladder. His arm—from the tip of his finger to his shoulder and across—tingled. Then a stabbing sensation hit him, as if someone had taken one hundred razors to the muscles beneath his skin and sliced from the inside out. His arm went numb.

  Avery fell, but his foot hooked the rung, causing his back to slam into the ladder and wall. Upside down, he hung like a slab of beef in a meat market. The ladder groaned and vibrated with the steady thumping of someone climbing down toward him. He didn’t need help and he damn sure didn’t need saving.

  Avery tightened his abs and curled. His head and chest rose and he stretched his good arm toward the ladder. But the space between the rungs was larger than normal. With each movement, his foot slipped. He watched his foot slide as he reached forward, certain he wouldn’t fail. Tw
o fingers were inches from the rung, and his foot slid free.

  The goop cushioned his fall but didn’t buoy him. He sank and as thick as Jell-O, fast as a river, the goop covered him, leaving no part of him exposed. The quimaera seemed to shift and make room for him to fit which sucked him further inside. Panic started as a hard thud in his chest and escalated to a grinding pain. He’d felt this sting before. The only time he’d lost complete control and let the darkness within him free.

  Avery opened his eyes and spotted the blurry outline of EJ making his way into the pit. The last thing Avery wanted was his brother joining him. His muscles clenched, clamped onto his bones. He fought the pull of the goop, the suction on his soul, and tore his arms free, then his torso, and finally his legs. Slime clogged his ears and nose, and coated his lips, yet didn’t stop him from crawling over the inert bodies. When he reached the wall, he staggered to his feet, jumped, and grabbed the last rung with both hands. His scarred arm didn’t quiver as he pulled himself up, but seemed stronger.

  “What happened?” EJ asked when Avery finally crested the rim of the hole.

  Avery glanced at his hand and flexed his fingers before curling them into a fist. “Slipped.” He wiped the goop from his face. “Where the hell are we?”

  “We’re in the textile factory across the street from the house,” Quin said. Moonlight filtered from uncovered windows and a skylight that peeked from the Swiss-cheesed second floor and roof.

  Avery walked ten feet away, his boots making an annoying sucking sound, to another pit, equally as deep and also occupied. Ten feet away from that pit lay another, and another. Holes lined the floor of the abandoned factory. He circled the room and met up with Quin.

  Quin nudged his shoulder and stared hard into his eyes. “What now?” He white-knuckled his katanas and sucked in a steadying breath.

  Every second Avery’s eyes assessed the danger and the options. The quiet click of a safety releasing snapped both their heads around. EJ stood at the rim, weapon aimed.

  Oh. Hell.