The Ripple Effect: Dane

by Jodie Becker

  Paredriis. Hate surged within him as he remembered the destruction they brought to a place that had been his home, if only for a few months.

  He picked up his bow, drew it back, the arrow held steady as he aimed carefully for a bull/man hybrid. He released it with a twang, and it shot through the air. A moment later, the beast let out a grunt and plummeted from the wall. Several more guards were dealt with in the same fashion.

  Satisfaction coiled within him. He flung his backpack over his shoulder and stalked closer to the building. His gaze ran over the line of windows along the palace, and his thoughts turned to Jamilah. For the last few days he'd battled with his logic, his conscience, and impulse even as he'd made his way toward the heart of the city.

  Was she truly a Familiar? Everything about her, what she said and did, caused him to believe that she wasn't, and yet ... yet he couldn't shake the thought that it was all a ruse to dazzle him. For months, the refugee camp hadn't been discovered or attacked. But in the space of a day, they were set upon and many had been murdered.

  Was she now lying in luxury, laughing at the fate of the families that died at Kimmell? Somehow he couldn't visualize that image. She seemed far too innocent for this world. Almost like a displaced person in time.

  He knew she had some importance, but couldn't figure out what it was. Set knew of it, otherwise he wouldn't have had her retrieved. Dane's jaw clenched. He would find the truth soon enough. Should he find her alive and well, and not a prisoner, he would do what he must to end her life and avenge those that were killed.

  His heart dropped at the thought of shoving a blade through her chest. A slight tremble of misery shook his body against the visual image of losing her. How had he become so attached to her? What was her purpose here?

  A shift grew within him and invaded his consciousness. He knew his counterpart had entered.

  Go now, the voice whispered in his head.

  Dane shook his head. “Go away. I can do this without you."

  The voice within chuckled. You cannot do anything without me. I am you.

  A sick shudder ran through him. The melding was moving in leaps and bounds. How long before he lost his self-identity completely? Would he have time to experience with Jamilah the love he craved? A woman's soft gasp sliced through his mind, followed by a cocky chuckle.

  You want her. Then you shall have her.

  His lips thinned in disgust. “Why would I want her, when you violated her like that?"

  You touched her, too. Admit that it was something you wanted to do, but you wouldn't have had the courage to do so if it hadn't been for me.

  "Go to hell.” He would never admit to such a thing. He was a dedicated magus.

  The voice chuckled. Magi aren't celibate. Never have been.

  Fury throbbed through his body. Abdul had told him often that he had to remain pure. Every time Dane's eye was caught by a pretty woman, Abdul would somehow know, and the afternoon when he would visit, his mentor would warn him of his need to remain dedicated to the teachings of the Magi. “One must remain pure to master the arts,” Dane said.

  Only pure in the spirit. Tell me, is your heart so pure?

  His life had been consumed by the compulsion to learn more after the death of his father. He'd even delved into the dark tomes in order to try to bring life to the dead, but he was unable to master it. His father remained in his grave, and Dane's hatred for Set grew.

  Laughter sounded in the back of his head, and steadily grew louder. You didn't fail. You opened your soul and entered my hall in search of your father. I merely stepped inside your body and decided to stay.

  Dane shuddered. “Get out of my body."

  Come now, save your anger for someone more deserving. We are wasting time. She is waiting for ... us.

  "I can do this without you,” he snarled.

  He could almost feel his counterpart smile. Very well.

  A shift struck him, and all sound returned. He was free of that thing. He turned his attention back to the walls. His gaze fell on Jamilah, standing in an open window. Her dejected form stabbed him with shame. She wasn't in cohorts with Set, never had been, and he was a fool to have thought so.

  Drawing closer to the palace, he stopped under the window where he'd seen her.

  "Jamilah,” he called out in a harsh whisper, hoping she'd hear him.

  After a moment, there was no sound. Dane searched the ground for something to throw into her room. He found a decent-sized stone nearby, picked it up, and pitched it into the room.

  "What in the world?” Jamilah's head popped out of the window. “Dane!” The relief in her tone slammed into him. Whatever doubts he'd had regarding her loyalty died at that moment.

  "Step back, I'm about to shoot up a rope. Tie it to something."

  "All right.” She disappeared from sight.

  He crouched to pull out a rope and tied it around one arrow. He nocked the arrow and stood. Drawing back on the bow, Dane aimed, then released the bowstring. The arrow whizzed through the air, over the windowsill, and out of sight.

  A moment later she reappeared. “It's secured."

  "All right, now come down."

  Her eyes widened. “Are you crazy? I can't."

  Frustration burned in the pit of his stomach. “You did it before."

  She shook her head vigorously. “No, you did it before. I had my eyes shut."

  "Do it with your eyes shut, then."

  "I can't!” came the torn reply.

  Dane glanced around him. They didn't have much time before someone would discover the dead bodies one of the guards he'd killed. “Fine. I'm coming up."

  Pulling on the rope, he tugged until it became tense. After he tested it to see if it would hold his weight, he hooked his bow around his shoulders and began to climb. Once at the top, he gripped the rough sandstone ledge and pulled himself over into the room.

  Standing, Dane drew in a harsh breath. Jamilah stood before him, a sheer white gown revealing all her womanly curves. His body flared to life as desire sliced through him. By the gods, her luscious body called to him, and he longed to slide his hands along her smooth skin.

  He swallowed hard, and his gaze snapped to her face, then froze. Heavily kohled eyes ... the familiarity he felt slammed into him. He'd seen her before. Not Jamilah, but someone else, someone he'd once loved. He shook his head. No not him ... but in a former life, he had known her. His heart skipped a double beat as the shift started. By the gods, not again.

  The relief in her eyes darkened to concern. “What is it?"

  Dane shook his head. He didn't want to loose time. Not now. Not again. Not ever again, but it seemed inevitable. He gasped for a breath.

  Jamilah placed a warm hand on over his heart, the action in itself forcing him to focus on her eyes. The concern and budding love burned in her gaze. “Dane?"

  Dane. The mention of his name solidified his place in reality. He grasped her hand and brought it to his mouth to place a tender kiss over her knuckles. “Let's get out of here."

  "Are we going to go down the way you came?” she asked, her eyes filled with fear.

  Dane knew the best way out of the place was through the window, but he feared she would be unable to keep her silence as they made their decent. “Do you think you can do it?"

  "I ... I think so,” she said on a ragged breath.

  Dane's heart expanded. He knew would at least try. “All right."

  He turned around, mounted the ledge, and held out his hand to her. Jamilah's gaze snapped to the night sky beyond him, then finally fell on his hand. Her face drained of color as she chewed her lower lip.

  "Come on, I'll keep you safe,” he murmured.

  Brown eyes stood out in stark contrast against her pale skin. Her lower lip trembled as she reached out and grasped onto his fingers. Clasping her hand, he drew her into his embrace. He gripped the rope with one hand and with the other, adjusted her around him.

  "Wrap your legs around my waist,” he whispered in he
r ear.

  As she did so, Dane repressed the groan that bubbled to his lips. Lust rose from the pit of his stomach as her pliant curves settled over him. He longed to test her softness for himself, but now wasn't the time. Her body shuddered, and he knew it wasn't from desire, but fear.

  His inner turmoil came to an abrupt halt at the commotion outside her room. Jamilah's head popped up as her attention turned to the door, then to him. The question and fear in her eyes sliced through him.

  The door flew open and slammed into the wall behind it. Half a dozen paredrii guards entered the room, led by Set. For the first time, Dane saw him without the demon form, and he was instantly struck with familiarity. Set wasn't a god. He was a man.

  Dane gave the demon a mock salute before he tipped over the edge, with Jamilah screaming.

  "Stop them!” Set's roar rumbled the walls.

  Dane struggled to slide down the wall, his hands balancing them on the rope as he counted off the time he had. The movement in the rope shifted, and he experienced a sinking sensation as the tension was lost and they plummeted to the ground.

  Wrapping Jamilah in his arms, he could barely offer up a quick prayer before he slammed into the ground. Pain reverberated through him as the world spun crazily. Vaguely, Dane noted that Jamilah sat up, and her attention moved back to the window. She stood and glanced down at him, and waved her hands at him to get up. “Hurry up,” she whispered harshly. Desperation edged her voice.

  Dane moaned. His body refused to draw in oxygen. Rolling over, he coughed and forced himself to stand. His body ached all over. Scooping up his backpack, he stared up at the window. They didn't have much time.

  "This way.” He surged through the brush, knocking aside low hanging branches as he went.

  The silvery glow of the moon slanted a shard of light through the leaves overhead. With the path shrouded in shadow, Dane struggled to avoid potholes and heavy dips along the plains. Behind him, the constant jingle of Jamilah's jewels sent irritation through him.

  Ducking under another branch, he found a heavily shrouded place and veered toward it. Drawing to a stop, he turned on her, her white dress glowing in the darkness. Damn it! Why didn't he think to rid her of that dress? The image of her naked body beneath the fabric seared through his mind. Stupid question.

  "Would you get rid of those damn bangles?” The request was snarled rather than spoken.

  She cupped her wrist and tried to push the bangles off her hand. After a few grunts and gasps, she looked up at him. “I can't get them off."

  Swallowing a curse, he scanned their surroundings. He felt the shift, like a rug jerked from beneath him. Damned Magi. Cautiously, he stepped around Jamilah and slanted his head, waiting for that tell-tale sound.

  "What is it?” she whispered.

  Dane laid a finger over his mouth. “Shh."

  Crouching, he nocked his bow. Then he heard it. Above, a winged paredrii circled. A grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. I see you. The thing flew too low to be a scout. More like bait.

  After a quick scan of the surroundings, he found what he was after. In the distance, a stone pyramid stood out against the forest backdrop. The bow drew taught as he took careful aim. His arm shook with the pressure he put on it. He released the arrow, and it zinged through the air and glanced off the stone edifice. With the trajectory change so swift, the arrow shot up into the air and slammed into the beast above. As it plummeted to the ground, so did several other paredriis, following the angle of the arrow.

  With a satisfied grunt, Dane pushed back and moved through the undergrowth with Jamilah at the front. They veered through the darkness, crushing twigs underfoot. Unmindful of the noise they made, Dane kept his bow ready. The longer they remained within Set's domain, the more precarious their position became.

  Movement up ahead drew his attention, and Dane's instincts flared to life. Magic. He knew it was shadow magic when he felt the cold draft slither through his soul.

  "Jamilah!"

  Jamilah skidded to a stop. The fear in Dane's voice made her shiver in apprehension. Before she could even ask what the matter was, three shadowy figures rose from the ground. Crying out, she stumbled back.

  Like wraiths, they glided through the air. Their screeches ripped through the night sky. One shot forward, its skeletal fingers to grasping her wrist and wrenching her forward. Jamilah tried to grab the thing's wrist to push it away, but her fingers went straight through it. Like a ghost.

  Fear surged through her as her heart beat a wild staccato within her chest. Eyeless sockets stared at her. These mummified specters were the stuff of nightmares.

  The ghost pulled her forward even as she dug her feet into the ground. Where was Dane? But it was too late. The thing forced her into its torso. Thick air and a dank, musty stench filled her senses. The bitter chill within the thing's body wrapped around her like heavy vines as everything darkened and sound was muffled around her.

  The wraith pitched off the ground and even as she screamed for help, she saw Dane bring down one of the ghosts. He clasped onto the pendant around his neck, then uttered a phrase in Demotic, and a bright light blasted through the undergrowth.

  Warm light pierced her environment as the specter tried to fly higher to avoid the damage. Like paper in fire, the wraiths disappeared, and she fell from the sky.

  Strong arms wrapped around her, and she opened her eyes to find herself in Dane's warm embrace. Relief filled her, but died in an instant. She couldn't move. Her whole body remained limp, and coldness soaked into her bones. A slimy sensation climbed along her skin, and sickening bile filled her mouth. She was drowning. She tried to open her mouth, but her lips seemed fused together, her cries muffled by the slime.

  Dane cursed and rolled her on her side as darkness began to cloud her vision. Her lungs screamed for air as oblivion called for her. No, she wasn't going to die like this. Her arms flopped uselessly about her as Dane jostled her.

  She wasn't going ... to die ... here...

  Chapter Seven

  The pale green slime slid along her skin of its own accord, filling every orifice. Dane rolled Jamilah over, his hands unsteady as he tried to break through parts of the slime that thickened and hardened like cement. His breath heaved as the implications washed over him. It was an entombing spell. The slime's only purpose was to enter her body and dry her vitals to dust. It moved by will of the casting magus, encasing her body in an attempt to cocoon her and finish its work.

  Her panicked gaze slammed into his, and the bloodshot whites of her eyes showed the struggle her body went through to try and draw in breath.

  His hands shook as he broke off a piece along her cheeks. Trying to slip his finger under the hardened substance, he released another curse as it remained firmly in place. Terror tingled across his body, and his heart beat ominously in his chest. He'd only seen this happen once in his lifetime, and the victim didn't survive it. Damn the wraiths! He didn't know what do to.

  Her body began to convulse, and Dane let out a strangled breath. Gods damn it! She was dying, and he couldn't do anything about it. Nothing in his experience had ever dealt with this kind of magic. Out of his mind with grief and guilt, Dane struggled to draw in a breath. He couldn't let her die here, where it was dark and cold.

  Picking her up, he struggled through the forest, his breath wheezing from him, broken from sobs that tore from his soul. He stumbled and fell to his knees, the warm tears falling from his eyes as he gazed at her pale features.

  Hurry, there is no time. The voice had returned.

  Dane shook his head. “Be damned. I don't care."

  He had come for her, and now she was dead. Was she destined to die here, like this? The thought left him cold. In such a small amount of time, he'd found himself enamored by her guileless actions and fresh innocence. But now it was gone, snuffed out in this cruel world.

  I can save her.

  Apprehension and joy surged within. “What do you mean?"

  If you want to s
ave her, then give yourself over to me completely. Do not fight me.

  He knew there would be a price. He glanced down at Jamilah's still form. Could he end his life for hers? He shut his eyes. Perhaps they would meet again in another lifetime. “Very well."

  A chuckle sounded within him. Come now, it's not as bad as you think. It will be painless, I swear.

  "Just do it,” he bit off.

  The G-force within him jolted, the sense of falling filled him, and Dane gave in as darkness took over his soul.

  * * * *

  Smoke. She could smell smoke. Jamilah groaned and stretched, and her body protested with various twinges. Opening her eyes, she frowned at her surroundings. The sandstone walls of the chamber, pockmarked by the porous stone, were decorated with painted portraits and impressions from the ancients. The gold paint, still prominent on the figures, glittered in the firelight. Slowly, a cold realization washed over her. She was in a tomb.

  Sitting up, she hissed as her muscles twinged at the sudden movement. The events prior to her losing consciousness came at her from all sides. Her capture, Set, the wraiths. Everything still felt so unreal. Yet, when that thing had attacked her, for a terrifying moment, she'd touched death.

  She drew in a ragged breath and rubbed her hands against the goose bumps that rose along her skin. Dane had been there. He'd saved her ... but where was he?

  With a quick scan of the room, she found him at the furthermost end of the rectangular chamber, where the stones gave way to unfinished work. He sat on a rock, his head bowed in his hands, looking as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. Her heart expanded and filled with gratitude and love as she ran her gaze along the lines of his back.

  He had come for her. Like he always did, putting his life on the line for her. She pushed to her feet and approached him. It was then she noticed the sweat that lined his back and the muscles that remained so tense he looked likely to snap.