by Tigris Eden
That was a mouthful. But he wasn’t done talking yet.
“I have every intention of claiming my birthright, whether it be by simply force, or complete and utter annihilation.”
Annnnd, bring on the madness.
Jorunn looked out the window and sighed. She’d been sold out. She wasn’t sure if Dietrich was to blame, or her father. Why else would Enri have been at BARE? Perhaps it had all been a setup from the beginning. Her father would have told her if he were holding leverage over Dietrich’s head. Wouldn’t he?
“Your voice. Is that your only parlor trick?”
She continued to stare out the window, too concerned about her own fate. Understanding dawned as Enri sped down the country road. They’d passed Paris almost an hour ago. She’d seen the lights as they drove by. The entire time, she thought about how she wished she could have shared it with Dietrich. He’d given her up because of his love for his sister, Yewa. A valiant thing for anyone to do. She would have done the same for Khalid. Jo gave him credit, he had tried to keep her by his side, but she had seen him struggling with the decision of who was more important.
Once the fighting had broken out, she’d known what she had to do. Jorunn bit her lower lip and once again, glanced outside the window. She didn’t think her time was limited, but how could she be sure? The people who had all the answers were where she was headed now. Technically, she was still on course.
Jorunn’s body stiffened. It’d been more than twelve hours since her father had injected her with the mixed blood. She wasn’t going to hold out hope that she was out of the woods. She needed to be practical. How much longer would the blood last? Jo rubbed her arms. If she didn’t think about it, maybe it wouldn’t be an issue. Stop thinking about it. She tried for calm.
“Are you going to answer my question?” Enri interrupted her thoughts, but she still didn’t answer. “It’s okay, you’ll be comfortable with me soon, and we’ll have no secrets, my sweet.”
Gag!
She almost threw up in her mouth at the thought of the mad prince touching her. He really was delusional if he thought taking a woman by force was something to look forward to. So why could Dietrich order her around? She was all too willing to oblige him. It wasn’t that Enri wasn’t attractive. In fact, he was too attractive. Blemish free, perfect luminescent skin. It was kind of creepy in a way. Dietrich, on the other hand, was naturally attractive, in a rough, manly way. Scars, tattoos, his chocolate skin… All of it was more appealing than Enri’s pale complexion.
“If he’d wanted you, don’t you think he’d have fought harder?” Enri questioned, looking at her from out of the corner of his eye. No doubt, he wanted to see her reaction, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
She hadn’t given Dietrich a fair shot at truly fighting for her. Had she? He had plenty of time to say what he wanted; only what he was saying was the opposite of what she wanted to hear. Jo swallowed. Her throat was beginning to get jammed up with anger. She’d been too afraid to see the outcome of his choice. You’d have made the same choice. Stop beating yourself up.
“Rejection doesn’t look good on you. Although, I’m not sure why. It’s usually a smashing combination on others.” He laughed. “Oh, Jorunn, Jorunn, Jorunn. Don’t be upset.”
She wasn’t.
She was hurt.
“I feel I should offer you a caveat. Should the Primori choose to challenge me for your hand, I’ll accept, but only if he is willing to take me on in my true form.”
“You’re in your true form.” What other form could he manifest?
Enri kept driving, his menacing chuckle the only response she was given. The countryside setting passed by in a blur, as the dark started to lighten to a charcoal grey. The grey gave way to soft purples and pinks, and as the sun crested over the trees in the distance, it looked as if the tops of the branches were on fire. Farther out, she could see the tower of the monastery come into view. The road that led to the town was littered with sheep grazing in the fields. There was a man walking his dog, and a cyclist speeding past. All else was quiet. Enri drove down the cobblestones at a slow pace and parked the car in front of a Bed and Breakfast. He walked around to her side of the car and opened her door, helping her out. He may be mad, but his manners were impeccable. As she stretched her legs, she heard Enri say a few words she didn’t understand, and then the car completely vanished.
“Where did it go?”
“Oblivion, hell… Who the fuck really knows. It just disappears when I tell it to.”
She had no words for his response.
They made their way down the streets, as shopkeepers got their wares ready to sell and the early rises began to browse. A baker was already preparing his morning goodies, and the warm smell of freshly baked bread and pastries danced in front of Jorunn’s nose. If her nerves weren’t so frazzled, she’d insist they stop and eat. She pushed forward, her limbs stiff with agitation. Her lips pressed together, and she had to stop from clenching her jaw. Yesterday she was literally in Dietrich’s arms, and today, she was walking beside a maniacal madman. Stupid males! It wasn’t until she could clearly see the monastery, some of her anxiety and tiredness drained away.
It was massive and resembled a large castle surrounded by a thriving city. Only she knew the city itself was deserted. The lights from its arched windows cast a beautiful glow against the early morning sky on the shaded side of the building, its reflection mirrored in the still water. The causeway was already wet from last night’s high tide, and she knew they were due for more high water.
Jo had had very little time to do any extensive research on the monastery, but she knew the First Gate was located here. It was called He Whose Name is Hidden, and was protected by not one, but two dragon sentinels.
The Gate supposedly greeted the souls of the dead who resided alongside the Defiant Ones. Underneath the monastery was a crypt and a doorway other than the First Gate. It was rumored to be another dimension. But most, if not all, immortal rumors were facts, rather than fiction. The water was quiet as they approached the causeway. She knew in a few hours it would rush across the wet sediment and cobblestones, thrashing against the wall on the far side to keep the Couesnon River at bay. The air was cool and moist against her skin, and Jo tried not to think about how easily she’d been cast aside.
Logic demanded her acknowledgment that Dietrich was well within his rights. Her heart, and maybe even a piece of her soul, waged war with her battered emotions. Jo took small steps towards the walkway. This was it. Today she would find out exactly what she was, and learn whether her life would be over in a matter of moments. The Unit’s doctor had insinuated if the blood did work, it would most likely only be a temporary fix. She needed a miracle drug, or a cure-all. Otherwise, she was doomed.
Her shoulders slumped at the thought. Her chin trembled, and she let go of a long exhale. Maybe I’m taking everything too well, she thought. It wasn’t like she was resigned to her fate, even if her body knew this could be it. She’d tried ignoring it, and that hadn’t ended so well. Dietrich had given her a glimmer of hope, she realized. He’d said and done so many things to and for her. He did those things to get close to you because of Yewa, Jo. None of it was real. It was why he was so hell-bent on resisting her. He didn’t really want her.
She should have known from the start. Cassandra and the women he usually left her shop with were more his type. She was none of the things they were. A voice in her head called her on her pity party. She’d been so sure he’d shown real parts of himself, and had genuinely enjoyed her company, though. He definitely enjoyed that kiss. Or, was he that good of an actor.
“You’re thinking too hard. You’ll find out soon enough if the Walker wants you,” Enri commented from behind her. She hadn’t realized it, but they’d stopped walking. She stood right in front of the stone path that led to St. Michel. The trek across the narrow stones would be wet and slippery. At least she had on some sturdy shoes.
By the time the
y made it to the gate, she was exhausted. The cold had seeped into her bones, and the fear mixed with genuine curiosity, had her entire brain reeling. A tall man in a black hooded robe met them at the gates, his face hidden in the shadow of his cowl.
“We’re here to see Gregor,” Enri announced.
A melodious voice responded from beneath the hood. Deep, almost baritone. There was a note of compassion and concern as he addressed them. “The Lady Jorunna was to be escorted by Draven and his team, yet here you stand, Enri, bastard son of Hades.”
“My name is just Jorunn or Jo. Not Jorunna.”
“Yes, of course. My mistake, Jorunn.”
“Wait, did you just say Enri was Hades’ son?”
The son of Hades was a Fallen? How was that even possible? She only knew of three children, and only one of them was male. She’d had the unfortunate luck of meeting his two pig-headed daughters. They’d come into her father’s club once. Hades’ son was not named Enri.
“There’s no need to say my father’s name. May the bastard rot in his current jail.”
The shrouded figure’s shoulders shook with laughter.
“Enri, you and I both know Father wouldn’t appreciate the name calling.”
“Fuck off, Z. And you’re no relation of mine, altar boy.”
A monolithic door opened, and two gold-plated dragon statues sat guarding the entry. Humans would never be able to tell the dragons were once real, or that somewhere on this rock, two living dragons guarded the First Gate. Jo could see where the gold had not completely covered the dragons’ scales. The creatures beneath, frozen in time for all to see.
Le Mont St. Michel had been commissioned by Gabriel’s brother, the Archangel Michael himself. He’d requested that Aubert, Bishop of Avranches, build over the crypt that held the Defiant Ones. On top of the spire sat a sculpture of the great Angel himself. Wings raised, battling it out with a Spawnfire Dragon. Jorunn had never seen the inside of a monastery before, and she found her tiredness gave way to an abundance of excitement. She was bouncing from foot to foot as they passed through the halls. Jo could feel the wards set in place by the three brothers that guarded the monastery. The interior had touches of gothic, classic, and eastern persuasion. The Knights Hall was built to hold up the cloister where the monks once worked and studied. Now it was a place of reflection for the Archangel himself.
They were led down a series of passageways that opened into an outer garden where three more robed men waited. She instinctively knew that these were the brothers that guarded the crypt. As they approached, the bell of the abbey rang, signaling that visitors were at the gate.
Chapter 16
Arriving at St. Michel had ill effects not only on Dietrich, but also his sister. He just hoped Draven was right, and Jorunn was here. The massive structure reminded him of Lomboko with its high walls and thrashing waves. It had a river somewhat like Gallinas, but it didn’t open against the coast, nor was it infested with sharks. This place was surrounded by murky sand and sediment.
Yewa plastered herself to his side, her nails digging painfully into his arm as she buried her head in his side.
“Why must I go, Omari? Go rescue her and leave me to the town.”
“No,” was his only reply. He wasn’t about to be separated from his sister again. He’d just found her.
“D, man, your sister’s scared. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to let her stay here in town. I can watch out for her,” Adam conveyed.
Grumbling, he shook his head no again. He didn’t trust anyone alone with his sister. No one. He’d be with her every step of the way.
“Dietrich, look at her,” Jesminda admonished, motioning to the fragile woman clinging to his arm. She was shaking, and it wasn’t from the cold.
“Yewa, it will be all right,” he tried soothing her, but nothing was working.
“No, too many memories. I’m not used to this. I’ve been kept away from everything and everyone. This place is not right. Something stirs here just beneath our feet. I can feel it.”
Maybe she was talking about the Defiant Ones. He couldn’t feel a damn thing, but he knew his sister was more sensitive to things around her than he was.
“Okay, you can stay in Adam’s care.” He grabbed her chin and lifted her face to his. “Stay close to him, do not leave his side.” He looked to Adam, “something happens to my sister, I will end your life in a bad way. Do you hear me?”
Adam grinned. But Dietrich was dead serious.
“I’m not fucking around, man.”
“I know you’re not. It’s just weird seeing you care about someone other than yourself.”
“Get the fuck out of my space, and take care of my sister.”
“I got this, D. Don’t worry,” Adam informed him. The bastard was way too cocky for his own good.
“You better, or I’ll take your ass out, skin you alive, and bleed you dry, and I’ll do it repeatedly while pouring lemon and salt straight into your open wounds.”
“You sick fuck. That was a bit vivid. Got it all planned out, do ya? Nothing will happen. Now go and get the cup and your girl.”
He didn’t correct Adam on the last part, because yeah, Jo was sort of, kind of, his girl. But she was only his girl for the duration of the trip. Once they were done, he’d go his way and she’d go hers.
The rest of them made it to the gate in record time. There wasn’t anyone there to greet them, and he wasn’t gonna fuck his knuckles up by banging on the massive wooden door. Jes stepped in front of him and pointed to the cord.
“Man, meet doorbell,” Jes huffed at him in exaggerated aggravation.
She pulled the cord, and a loud bell echoed on the other side.
“Plan is, we get in, get out. No bloodshed. Let me talk to Enri,” Draven volunteered.
“Draven, he’s crazy and can’t be reasoned with,” Jes reminded everyone.
“No, he’ll listen. Or I’ll beat his ass myself,” Draven countered.
He’d better, or D was going to unleash an ass-whooping the other male would never forget.
“That’s funny. Not many people try and go head to head with Enri,” a robed figure said at the now open door.
“Who the fuck are you?” D said, eyeing the male in front of them.
The male bowed his robe-covered head.
“Forgive me, I am Zagreus, son of Hades, heir to the Black Throne, and half-brother to the bastard Enri. Who is here with your charge, I might add.”
“No one asked for your family tree. We’re here to see Gregor,” Draven intoned, waiting for the male to move. D was two shoves away from introducing the robe-covered monk to his fist. Why was everyone so damn chatty?
“D, man, you’re wired. Take it down a notch,” Jacobi said
“Or two,” Jes put in.
They followed Enri’s supposed half-brother down a few passages until they came to an open garden. He almost had time to come to terms with the information asshat had been all too eager to share, when he saw her. Jorunn was standing next to three other robed figures, their faces obscured by the shadows of their hoods as they talked with her and the rat bastard, Enri. Calm. You need to keep it together.
As if she could sense his presence, Jo turned. Dietrich watched, as well as heard, her shock when her breath hitched. That’s right, Peaches. Your ass is mine. She may not want to admit it, hell, he sure as shit was trying to ignore it, but whatever was happening between them had to go down. It was the only way either of them would be able to move on.
“Draven. Jesminda. I only gave permission for you, Jorunn, and one other to enter. I cannot guarantee the safety of the others, nor grant them sanctuary. If they stay on the grounds, it’s at their own risk.”
“What exactly are you saying?”
“This place hosts others that will not take kindly to outsiders. We have a truce of sorts. This monastery is a means to escape and rethink one’s outlook on what may have been a grim life.”
All three men pulled their hoods
from their heads and pushed their hands into the cuffs of their robes. Their faces were covered with what could only be some type of ancient text. D wasn’t a scholar, but he wasn’t an idiot either. The markings bore a striking resemblance to Jo’s.
“We have much to explain. I am Gregor of Clan Ellys, and these are my brothers, Liam and Caelian.”
“Your markings, they look almost like mine,” Jo whispered.
“Yes, my lady. They are much like yours. Please, follow us.”
~ ~ ~
As they followed the three brothers deeper and deeper into the confines of the abbey, Jo realized the beauty of the outside, led to horrors on the inside. Images depicting decapitations, blood offerings, and sacrifice hung on the stone walls. Statues of Demons and Angels locked in battle stood vigil as they passed an archway.
She wasn’t sure who the men were, but she knew they would at least have some answers for her. All three brothers were on average six feet tall, and all had jet-black hair. They differed in eye color. Gregor’s were topaz—a pale, clear gold that reflected the light. They were a bit darker than Gabe’s champagne color. Liam’s were a vivid, medium green with a deep blue coloring like a peacock, and Caelian’s were a bold, vibrant green with a burst of gold around the pupils. They stopped in front of a door, and Dietrich hung back beside Jo. His hand reached for hers. She pulled back, not wanting to fall down the rabbit hole he had created with her emotions.
“You’re leaving here with me,” he ground out.
Jo could have used her voice to compel him, but she wasn’t sure if it would affect only him or the others like it had back at the airport. She wasn’t about to take that chance.
“You only volunteered for this job to get your sister back,” she hissed under her breath.
“Your point, Peaches?” he said, leaning in toward her face, like he was daring her to question his motives. She wasn’t about to argue her current situation with him. She’d agreed to go with Enri. She wasn’t going to marry him. Hell, no, but she was going to at least keep the peace for now. That way, everybody won. Except you.
