Everlasting (Descendants of Ra: Book 2)

by Tmonique Stephens

  I’m off to make a bad situation worse. “You didn’t have to come, Mrs. Kelly.”

  “Of course I did! Your grandmother would’ve haunted me if I didn’t.”

  Alexis smiled. She’d forgotten how close they were. “I’m fine. Can you give me a ride back to the house?” She could return to her apartment, but—

  “Certainly. I parked in the garage.”

  Alexis followed, trailing slightly behind. Not because she was tired, though her feet did drag, but because she kept looking over her shoulder. They weren’t alone. There were voices filtering from other levels of the garage, footsteps echoing, car doors creaking open and slamming shut.

  That’s not what put the chill at her back and made her hair stand on edge. How did I survive that fall? A vague memory of arms cradling her surfaced. It seemed so real.

  Lingering traces of the dream she was enjoying before she woke filtered through her brain. A man waited across the room. Shirtless, his perfect pecs and brick stacked abs flexed as he closed the distance between them, stalking her. Predator versus prey. The bed dipped under his weight as he stretched across it, erect and ready. Her breath came in anxious little bursts as she strained to glimpse his face through his fall of midnight hair. She couldn’t. All she could see were deep ocean blue eyes.

  “A dream, nothing more,” she murmured.

  “Huh? Did you say something, dear?” Mrs. Kelly glanced at her.

  Alexis shook her head.

  “I’m parked over here.” Mrs. Kelly pointed to a white Buick at the top of the ramp.

  “Coming.” She hurried after her. Mrs. Kelly had the car door opened, ready for her to slide in. Alexis paused. “Did you…see anything?”

  Mrs. Kelly’s eyebrows furrowed. “Like what dear?”

  Like freaking Godzilla! “Oh, anything.”

  “No, nothing, dear.”

  “Did you see a man?”

  Lips pursed, Mrs. Kelly tilted her head and thought for a moment. Her silver hair glinted in the underground lights. “Yes, I saw a man and your lovely houseguest drive away in his car. They seemed so much in love.” She sighed.

  That wasn’t the man Alexis was referring too. “No one else?”

  “No. Why?” Mrs. Kelly leaned closer. The yellow lighting of the garage reflected off her milky eyes.

  Just like she thought, a dream. “Uhm, no reason.” She slid into the car. She didn’t have a lot of time if she was going to do what she planned.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Reign couldn’t walk away. He had to be certain she would recover. When they loaded her into the larger of the conveyances he climbed in, convinced she needed his protection.

  New to this world, everything confused and overwhelmed him, especially the place they took her. The bright lights, the noise, the people clogging the passageways, it was battle without a foe. He thanked the gods he could pass through the crowd unencumbered. A buffer of cold surrounded him and chased many away. Stationed by her bedside, he watched them care for her until he was certain she would survive. Even then, he lingered, his empty arms strangely aching.

  He turned away and passed Mrs. Kelly holding vigil on the other side of the closed curtain. Through the maze of corridors, he made his way outside. Once there, he tapped into Nephythys’ power and materialized. He breathed in a lungful of fresh air and stiffened his resolve. The time to leave had long passed. Behind him lay a woman he didn’t know, would never know. Ahead waited Nephythys, the most vainglorious creature that ever existed, and the bargains he had made. The first thousands of years ago…and the last a few hours past.

  Reign ignored the well of regret threatening to flood him, stretched his senses, and searched for his brother. He must find Roman. Together they would find a way to destroy the beast and defeat Nephythys. Since birth, their bond had never failed to guide them to each other’s side. Within moments, he located him and allowed his atoms to follow where his senses led.

  He slammed back to the same spot beside the medical facility, except Alexis stood over him. Her chin tilted and a breeze brushed the hair off her shoulders. He reached for her, but she and Mrs. Kelly walked through him.

  Confused, he climbed to his feet and watched their retreating backs. Why did he return to this spot? The beast must be near and its pull was keeping him here. Had it come back for him or Alexis? He searched the area and then followed the women. Staying to the side, he watched their conveyance until it turned a corner.

  He’d moved a few steps when the Vanquished dropped him to his knees. Their tortured screams ricocheted inside his skull and tore his sanity apart. Against his will, his atoms shifted and he flashed into the rear seat behind Alexis.

  “Did you turn the air on? ‘Cause it’s freezing in here.” Alexis hugged herself.

  “It has turned chilly.” Mrs. Kelly fiddled with some knobs. “The heat’s on. It’ll warm up soon.”

  Damnation. It wasn’t the beast that kept pulling him back. It was Alexis.

  CHAPTER THREE

  SET wanted nothing more than to feel life in the body of his wife. A smoky tendril stretched out from his gaseous form and skimmed the empty shell she’d left him. But what a beautiful shell. Her dusty pink nipples topped globes of taut flesh. A flat abdomen led to trim hips and a smooth mons. If only her legs would willingly open, cradle him, welcome him into her dark recess and their sensual embrace. Angry, he vibrated and a jagged strike of red lightning flared in the center of his mass. Per their agreement, for three millennia he abstained from enjoying carnal delights with his wife. At council meetings, her sparkling presence reminded him of what he didn’t have—had never had. Nephythys, the woman his minuscule soul was attached to. In all their time together never had she graced him with a smile, a willing touch, a moan of pleasure. Those precious acknowledgments she reserved for anyone but him.

  He’d hoped all this time apart had softened her, made her long for his attention, any attention. Perhaps now she would allow him a foothold into her heart. After so long, her bitterness must have healed.

  His optimism withered when he entered her bedroom and beheld this still nakedness sprawled on the bed.

  This is all she would give him. A corpse. Parts of him lashed out and shattered the pretty things she collected.

  He pulsed with the desire to crush her, leave nothing but a bloody, broken body. One of the many dark pleasures he enjoyed.

  He couldn’t, not to her.

  The bedroom disintegrated as tendrils sprang from his gaseous body and whipped about the room. Nothing escaped swift destruction except the soulless form on the bed.

  SET drew his expanded self together and calmed, reined in his darkness. Once composed, a tendril wrapped around her waist and dragged her limp body to the edge. He transformed from his preferred state to a more solid form, his dark swirling essences momentarily trapped beneath a barrier of thin, translucent skin. He could be anything, male, female, or animal, but he made himself into a form he knew she would desire, a tall, muscular male. He looked down and studied his member jutting proudly forward. Cylindrical, the appendage had none of the features that completed the male anatomy. No sacs, no hair, no veiny sinews, and no bulbous head with a slit opening.

  Not his favorite form, he tolerated it for Nephythys. His gaseous state was much more functional. The boundaries of flesh disturbed him. Limited him. Made him vulnerable to all the vagaries humans suffered. Never would he bind himself into human form. She would have to accept this substitute.

  SET spread her legs apart and studied her opening. Dry, no moisture wept for him. In his gaseous form, her arousal didn’t matter. He could penetrate every part of her body, simultaneously filling her repeatedly until all his frustrations were excised.

  He touched the jutting part of him to her opening and felt her shriveled membranes brace. This will hurt, he thought with a cruel grin. His essences pulsed beneath the translucent skin, taking pleasure at the thought of her pain. But physical pain healed while a wounded heart fest
ered.

  Somewhere on the island, her spirit waited for his departure and the ritual cleansing to be completed. Once the nulls removed all evidence of his presence, only then would she rejoin her body. Nothing of his visit would remain.

  Angry, he thrust inside and buried as deep as the appendage allowed. Something pricked his eyes and a bead of moisture rolled down the slope of his face. He touched the strangeness, smoothed it between his fingers.

  Tears. He jerked away from his wife and reverted to his gaseous state.

  This is why he never took the disgusting form. Quivering in annoyance—or maybe fright—he fled the destroyed room and ended up in the alcove.

  Thank Ra she wasn’t here to witness the display. It would give her pleasure to see him so weak. Her laughter would ring in the council chamber. The God of Evil would not suffer humiliation. Agitated, he swirled about the room, brushing every surface, filling every microscopic crevice. He brushed something.

  The remnants of a man.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Instead of going home and resting as she promised Mrs. Kelly, Alexis changed out of her sweat clothes into jeans and a sweater, hopped in her car, and headed downtown. The last place she should be was exactly where she was going.

  Luckily, her precinct was large. Not everyone knew everyone. She showed her badge to the desk sergeant, who gave her a cursory glance. A swipe of her ID card unlocked the door to the employee entrance. She said a quick prayer they hadn’t moved her junk yet because she couldn’t remember where Vice was located.

  The back stairs to the second floor ended a few feet from her desk. Alexis opened the heavy fire door a fraction and peered into Homicide. Someone had dimmed the overhead lights and most of the desk lamps were off.

  As she suspected, Homicide was empty. The manhunt for Daniel Nicolis continued. The public and press bought the lie that he had fabricated his death to escape justice. Only a dozen, including her, knew the truth.

  She stepped into the room. A snore halted her. Four desks back near the right side of the room, Detective Yates’s face was planted on the blotter. In the brief quiet between snorts, she heard voices drifting from the conference room. They were having a meeting.

  Damn. She didn’t waste time guessing how long she had before the room filled with detectives again. Quickly, she logged into her computer and searched for animal attacks. Pages of dog attacks loaded. It wasn’t a damn dog that stormed through her home. It was…a lizard man, thing.

  Someone laughed. Another joined in. The snoring stopped replaced by a protracted yawn. The rollers on a chair squeaked. Alexis ducked low in her seat.

  Snap, crackle, pop. Yates must’ve stretched every muscle in his body and cracked every bone. A chill swept over her and pebbled her skin. She spun around, sure that someone lurked behind her. No one was there. So why did she feel like she wasn’t alone?

  A file slapped against the ground, bringing her back to the five W’s: who, what, when, where and why. She peeked around her computer and watched Yates pick up the file and stumble toward the bathroom.

  Time frame: One week ago. She typed in the name she remembered, Irma Barker. Last Tuesday, the retired transit worker reported a wild beast lived in the factory across the street from her. She gave a vivid description of a giant lizard man. The only reason Detective Henry took the report and didn’t chase her out of the precinct and back to Rockland County was McCabe. Suddenly, the bastard had a heart. She scrawled the info on a Post-It and peeled the yellow square from the stack. Somewhere out there, this thing stalked Stella Walker. Maybe this lead would help find her.

  Thirty seconds later, she was back in her car and on her way to Rockland County. Fresh New York City air never smelled or felt so good. Plus, the rushing air kept her alert. The pre-dawn traffic was light. She sped along the West Side Highway just above the speed limit. Within the next hour, this stretch of road would be a parking lot, as would all the highways in NYC. Rush hour started at five in the morning and ended at ten at night. Focused on her destination, she didn’t enjoy the moment. Her thoughts were on what she would find. Not one for wild flights of imagination, she refused to assume she’d find anything. Rather, she hoped she wouldn’t find anything.

  “You have arrived at your destination.” Her GPS intoned and she parked. Mrs. Barker lived modestly in a small frame house fourth on the block, sandwiched between two foreclosed properties. Her home and possibly the sixth house were still inhabited. As the report stated, the factory lay across the street. The structure and the surrounding parking lot encompassed more than five acres of real estate in New City, a small township a few miles from the Bronx border.

  Judging by the abandoned industrial park, the recession had hit the town hard. The sign indicating what it manufactured had been removed, but it looked like a textile factory. Three stories with a faded, red brick shell, the large windows on the first level were boarded.

  Alexis exited her car and adjusted her gun on her hip. She retrieved a flashlight from the trunk and paused. The glow from the few streetlights cast enough shadows to leave dozens of hiding places. This was probably a waste of time. And a looming disaster. Lately, every move she made helped further her slide into the sinkhole she called her life. Still, she jogged across the street to the shuttered factory.

  Carefully, she slipped through an opening in the rusted gate and caught her jacket on a sharp edge. She swallowed a curse and stuck her finger through the hole, making it worse. Damn, I just bought the thing a week ago. Patting it down didn’t make the hole disappear, though she pretended it did.

  Instead of cars, abandoned pallets, barrels, and a trove of gears and machine parts littered the parking lot, as if they’d forgot to load them on the last wagon train out of Dodge. A police car crept by and she ducked behind a pallet of barrels. Her cell rang. Damn it! She forgot to silence the thing. She dropped the light and fished it out of her jeans.

  Her mother’s phone number appeared on the screen. At six a.m. only death would have Gloria Lever calling anyone. “Gloria?”

  “Alexis?” She breathed heavily into the phone.

  Was that trepidation in her mother’s voice? Other than her only daughter failing epically at every task she had set in front of her, her mother feared nothing.

  “What’s wrong, Gloria?” Calling her ‘Mother’ had ended after the last disastrous pageant when Gloria had all but disowned her. Alexis suspected losing the moniker didn’t bother her mother at all. She had never been the type of parent you’d call ‘Mommy’ with childish glee or ‘Mom’ or ‘Ma’ as a teenager. A formal woman, Gloria Lever was always—said somberly, reverently—Mother. The boys still addressed as such. To Alexis, she was just Gloria.

  Alexis waited. “Oh God, is it Dad?” She supplied her own answer when she heard nothing on the other end.

  “No, your father is fine. He’s sleeping upstairs.”

  It must be one of her brothers. Army, Navy, Air Force, each represented a branch of the military. “Is it one of the boys?” she whispered, needing the info now instead of later.

  “No, the boys are fine also.”

  Then why the hell are you calling me at the crack of dawn? “Gloria, I’m a bit busy right now.” She peeked from behind the barrels. The street was deserted again.

  “Are you all right?”

  Her mother had never asked that before. She’d never been the warm, hug you before bedtime, baked goods after school—kinda mother. Cold, distant, and controlled were her forte and she wasn’t selective. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Margie called…but I had a dream.”

  Great! Just want she needed. “I’m fine, Gloria. I really have to go.” She repeated hoping the words would sink in.

  “I said I had a dream,” Gloria repeated.

  And? Alexis wanted to say, join the club, but didn’t. Her mother’s dreams were…different. Sometimes things happened around Gloria Lever. Nothing bad, at least not to the family, but sometimes a last minute change of plans saved a family me
mber from injury or brought a fortuitous meeting which always worked in their favor. The men in the family benefited from her mother’s premonitions. While Alexis-

  “Whatever you're doing, stop. Leave.” Her voice took on a desperate edge that was so unlike her polished mother. Until today, she’d never called her with a warning, or suggestion to change her plans. She always knew Gloria had abilities, yet never asked.

  Alexis glanced behind her at the building. A faint streak of sunlight illuminated the brick frame. It was now or never. And she had come so far. A cold breeze caressed her, gave comfort when it shouldn’t.

  “Dreams are foolish. An illusion only a useless mind creates. We live in the real world, with consequence. I have no dreams and neither should you.” Gloria often said when Alexis voiced an opinion other than what Gloria had implanted.

  But she did dream. Her dreams, fantasies, and longings bled into nightmares which terrified her until around the age of twelve she stopped dreaming. That is, until recently when a tall, dark, shadowed man filled her head, and her nights.

  “I have to go.” After years of not caring about her whereabouts, now she cares? Alexis shook her head and swiped the phone closed and powered it down. She didn’t have time to examine her mother’s motivations.

  Alexis circled the perimeter, testing each door. She jerked on the last one. Like the others, it had been sealed tight. But the dumpster off to the side would be the perfect ladder to reach the window with the broken board.

  Okay. One quick peek. She touched her weapon, making sure it was on her hip and tossed her flashlight onto the top of the metal bin. She winced at the loud clang it made. One hand on the lid, one foot on a discarded cart, she started to haul herself up.

  A loud bang whipped her around. She pulled her gun, strained her arm reaching for the flashlight, and ran around the corner toward the sound. One of the doors was open. She slowed and scanned the deserted lot. The door squealed and she pivoted, ready to fire. A hard, cold wind slapped her and slammed the door against the opposite wall. The noise echoed across the lot. She cringed and used her body to block the door from slamming closed.