“Someone oughta teach youngsters not to talk to strangers,” he muttered.
He felt truly fortunate that people in mobs were so stupid.
It made them so much easier to kill.
* * * *
The sky seemed on fire.
Every muscle in her body felt too weak to be her own. Her wrists were bound behind her back, and she discovered herself propped against a wooden pole. Straw, planks of wood, and a gathering of sticks surrounded her feet. The air thickened with the scent of smoke. She ached. She hurt. She thirsted.
She would die.
Ravenna fought to open her eyes.
Oh God.
The sky was indeed on fire.
Her throat was scratchy. Her eyes were dry, and her skin felt rubbed raw.
A memory surfaced then. She recalled falling to the floor of the Mal cottage. She remembered seeing the broken shards of the poisoned drink Kenneth had brewed for her. She remembered defeat. She’d gone to Kenneth, but damn all if she remembered why. She only knew it had seemed important at the time.
I am such a fool.
Ravenna closed her eyes again. She stretched her arms against her bonds to little avail. Whatever Kenneth had put in her drink had rendered her with the strength of a kitten. Every pull against the ropes left her winded and weaker than she’d known possible.
She’d never been weak. Never. Not as a child, not as a young woman, and definitely not as One of the Few.
Kenneth had made her weak.
Now he would kill her.
Nicolai.
Ravenna’s heart collapsed. Oh God. Nicolai. Nicolai hadn’t known where she’d gone. She’d left him without a word, without a note, without any indication as to her intention. She’d left the solace of his bedside and walked willingly into a death trap.
She’d left Nicolai without saying goodbye.
“I’m so sorry, Nicolai,” she whispered, tears prickling her eyes. “Forgive me.”
“We’ll talk about forgiveness later,” came a voice she felt at once certain she’d dreamt up. “After I’ve tanned your pretty hide.”
A gasp seized her throat, and her eyes flew open just as she felt the gentle touch of her lover’s hands at her sore wrists. In less than an instant she tumbled free and nothing existed but Nicolai’s arms around her, the firmness of his shoulder against her cheek and his chest pressed hard against hers.
“I mean it,” he continued, pressing a fierce kiss against her brow. “You’re not gonna be able to sit on your glorious rear for weeks. And not for the fun reason.”
“Nicolai, how—”
“Later, darling. Just hold onto me.”
Ravenna immediately complied. She would never again hesitate to do whatever he asked. Never.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered again. “I didn’t mean—”
“Not the time for sorrys. Save them for when we’re in the clear.”
In the next second, he lifted her entirely into his arms and then they were moving, the flames of hell licking her heels They kept onward fast through a thicket of trees. She heard screams in the distance but didn’t care to see their cause.
Nicolai had come after her.
“Of course I came after you,” he said shortly, not breaking his furious stride. “I love you, no matter how stupid you get.”
“Nicolai…”
“Don’t ever think I won’t come for you. Death couldn’t stop me.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “How did you get them—”
“Let’s just say torch-wielding villagers don’t seem to like fire so much when it touches their houses.” Nicolai flashed her an ironic grin. “Figured those bastards deserved a—”
A sound she knew well whistled through the air, though for a few tragic seconds, a wall in her mind refused to connect knowledge with understanding. It wasn’t until the arrow tore through layers of clothing, dampened with her lover’s blood and veiled thinly with chunks of torn flesh that comprehension arrived.
“Oh God!”
“It’s nothing,” Nicolai barked, not slowing down.
He was wrong. Kenneth was behind them, chasing them, and he always would. There would never be a moment’s rest.
“Nicolai—”
“It’s nothing.”
Tears scaled down her cheeks. Say what he might, she had made him bleed. Everything seemed her fault. He would heal, but they would always feel this knowledge that she had nearly cost them everything.
Everything.
If she lived a thousand years, Ravenna was certain she would never forgive herself.
Chapter 16
Present Day
The spare room of their shared home often served as sparring or training space when Dexter felt Raven needed to perfect a certain attack or have a quiet space in which to study. Very rarely did Raven willingly volunteer time, but this morning, she felt like burning steam, and Dexter had quickly obliged.
“He confirmed it then.”
Raven nodded as she stepped back, lowering her sword. “He even had a reason for everything. For making me forget. For making Nico…Nicholas forget. For listing Nicolai as my killer,” she said bitterly, shaking the ache that lingered in her arm away. “You know that line in The Exorcist…he lies with the truth?”
Dexter blinked hard, looking about three seconds away from falling over. There were times during their training sessions when she forgot to go slow so as to not give him a heart attack at a tragically young age. Now that she had her memories from her first life back, it seemed doubly hard to keep her compounded knowledge at bay.
“I don’t…remember,” the Guardian panted, digging the tip of the sword into the floor so he could lean on the hilt. “Was that…line in the movie?”
She made a face. “Maybe not. But it would’ve been a good line.”
“I’m sure.”
“Point being that Paimon didn’t lie to me. I just…” Raven broke off again and shook her head. “It took me all night to admit that, and it still sounds very wrong. He took everything. He did it…”
“For gain, I’d think,” Dexter agreed, doing his best to look dignified even with sweat dripping down his brow.
“Have I mentioned how much I really hate demons?”
A soft, poignant smile crossed the Guardian’s face. “It will make you think twice before striking a bargain with one in the future,” he observed. “I imagine it wasn’t a coincidence.”
“What?”
“Paimon seeking you out like this, after you’ve discovered the true nature of your history.”
Raven lowered her eyes, a fresh rush of shame spilling through her veins. Dexter had acted very cautious with her, very brotherly in trying to help her disclose as much information as she felt comfortable giving. He hadn’t asked again what her debt to Paimon was since she first confessed the deal. Though she knew she lacked time to be secretive, the idea of admitting her sin made it more tangible. It made the price she had to pay something concrete rather than just an abstract idea.
How was she supposed to tell the man who had instilled in her more sense of self than anyone, the man who had driven home the importance of her duties, that three hundred years prior she’d given up the very powers that made her unique?
That in a few days, if Paimon got his way, she would no longer be One of the Few?
Funny. What she’d bargained had seemed something she would never miss, especially during her first life. She’d bemoaned the duties of being One of the Few for so long that the idea that it might all be ripped away had often come in thoughts surrounded by white fluff rather than crisp ashes.
It seemed that even her subconscious leaned toward the perils of Hell nowadays.
“You’re not wrong,” she confessed. “It’s payment time. He says I have a week before I have to pay up.”
Dexter nodded solemnly and though she could see words pressing against his lips, he didn’t make a sound. She knew he wouldn’t ask unless they were down to the wire, and eve
n then he might hesitate. The foundation of their relationship, the glue of their friendship, stood soundly on the issue of trust, which was, admittedly, part of the problem. Until recently, they had confided everything in each other. Now, the issue of her true past and relationship with Nicolai was wedged between them. Though she knew she hadn’t intended to hurt her Guardian, Dexter had to feel betrayed on some level.
Yet he’d never punish her for it, and he’d let her come to him in her own time.
Then suddenly, Raven felt she couldn’t stand silent any longer. She couldn’t rely only on herself, especially when Dexter was so supportive. Not once had he admonished her for the decisions she made, past or present. It didn’t seem a startling revelation on Raven’s part, but it was revelation enough. Dexter had come through for her in a big way. He appeared the anti-Kenneth, and if anything, he’d proven he wouldn’t judge her.
It didn’t matter to him that she’d essentially destroyed his career. The High Council had trusted him with her, and though the events tearing them apart had been set in motion centuries before, she couldn’t help the rush of guilt that she’d destroyed everything her Guardian had worked toward. His reputation, his future, lay in her hands. She’d shattered everything and she hadn’t even known it.
Hurting Dexter made her hate herself. However, she owed him an explanation. He had to know what to expect.
“It’s me, Dex. My place as One of the Few, and everything that comes with it. It’ll be gone.”
He blinked rapidly in astonishment. She didn’t blame him. The announcement came without preamble, though its meaning was easily deciphered. He clearly hadn’t expected her to forfeit anything without a fight.
Thus, his reaction was not altogether surprising. In fact, it provided her with an odd surge of reassurance.
“What?”
“That’s what I gave him. I asked him to name his price, and that was what it was. Me. I gave him my strength.” Raven tore her eyes away, her heart racketing hard against her chest. “It sounded harmless. Or maybe it didn’t. I was prepared to do anything to get Nicolai back. The price didn’t matter to me. I would’ve given him my soul if he’d asked for it.”
A long beat. “And he did not?”
Dexter didn’t sound like the Dexter she knew. He sounded very much like just-saw-a-ghost-Dexter, and she’d done that to him.
Raven glanced up. At the very least she could own up to her crime and look him in the eye. Hiding wouldn’t solve a damn thing. “No,” she replied softly. “According to Paimon, souls of the Few are no good. As the warriors of the peace, or whatever, we get this nifty little no touchy, no torturey pass from the good side of the High Council. Even if he had taken my soul, I would’ve been off-limits.”
“So he asked for you instead. Your power.” She nodded as Dexter’s eyes narrowed. “The thing guarding your soul. He asked for that, and you gave it to him.”
The world froze around her, and Raven’s eyes went wide. “Oh God.”
“Raven…”
“Oh my God.”
Dexter held up a hand. “I didn’t mean to scare you—”
“Well, you’re a bit late for that.”
“Demons are bound to their word. As long as you consented to give him only your strength.” He paused and cleared his throat. “Your strength…As long as the language allowed no room for the removal of your soul as an additional or penalty clause—”
“I didn’t. This predates fine print, Dexter.”
“Obviously not.”
Raven swallowed hard. “I meant the literal sort of fine print. The trade was pretty even. Me and Nicolai for my strength.”
He nodded numbly. “And only your strength? The warrior part of you?”
“Yeah. And don’t get me wrong, because I’m kinda loving the lack of screaming at me, but why aren’t you more worried than this?” Raven worried a lip between her teeth and shuffled her weight from one leg to the other. “I kinda figured you’d pull a major spaz and go all Rambo Dexter on me.”
A ghost of what could have been a smile crossed his lips. He nodded and glanced down. “I think I was prepared for the price to be your soul. Your strength…Don’t get me wrong, Raven, this is very serious. It’s unprecedented and it could throw the whole cosmos out of balance.”
This seemed more of what she’d expected.
“However,” Dexter continued, clearing his throat. “I think I’m relieved.”
“Relieved?”
“Torn between losing your strength and losing your soul, well, yes would be the short answer.” A still sober beat passed between them. “I should consult the High Council or books or whatever you consult for these things. While I’m certain a demon of Paimon’s notoriety wouldn’t make a mistake, there is the question of the possibility of any such removal in the first place.”
Raven frowned. “What do you mean?”
“The High Council has selected warriors. They always have. It brings balance and order to the world. I’m not sure if there…” Dexter trailed off thoughtfully. “I suppose the removal of your power would be seen, in essence, as your death.”
“And what happens to you?”
He shrugged. “I suppose I check the want ads.”
“No…”
“I’ve only been your Guardian for five years. That’s five years longer than some, but I doubt the High Council would forgive something this monstrously huge, regardless of circumstances.”
“No, Dex. God, everything you sacrificed—”
“Don’t worry about that,” he said softly. “You’re what matters to me.”
The words, coupled with the tender look in his eyes, nearly rendered her to tears. “But working for the High Council is your life.”
He grinned, which surprised her. It didn’t seem appropriate. “I’d like to think I have a bit more of a life than that. Anyway, Raven, as I said…you’re much more important to me than the High Council. Whatever happens happens, all right?”
She fell quiet for a long minute. “It was because I was the One of the Few that Nicolai was killed, Dexter,” she said, knowing explanations weren’t required but feeling she owed him one nonetheless. “If I hadn’t been—”
“You and Nicolai would have never crossed paths,” he supplied softly.
“No, we would have. It just would’ve been different.”
Of that she felt certain. No matter what lives they led or what bodies they inhabited, Raven remained convinced she and Nicolai had been meant to live a part of one another’s lives in some revolutionary, significant fashion. In her past life it had been a mere accident of fortune that brought them together, but had she not been One of the Few he would have found her anyway. Now Nicolai had found her again, this time in the form of Nicholas. Even if the history between them didn’t exist, she had no doubt that they would have created a new history together. Had there been no bargain, had they merely belonged to this world without having lived before, their paths would have crossed in the same fashion. They would have fought, laughed, bled, made love, cried, and everything in between. But they would have known each other.
They were meant to know each other.
“It’s a romantic notion,” Dexter said.
“It’s the truth.”
“I know better than to argue with you.” He heaved a long, burdened sigh. “The debt you owe is to forsake your birthright, to no longer be One of the Few.”
“I didn’t know you when I made this deal, Dexter.”
His eyes bore no condemnation. “I am not accusing you of anything.”
“I still feel like I should…” A heavy sigh lifted off her shoulders, directing her eyes downward once more. “I know I’ve always talked about wanting a normal life and how much easier it would be on me if I weren’t One of the Few. I never wanted this, though. Never. It was all talk, you know? Just stupid things you say…like I wish I’d never been born or something like that.”
Dexter smiled faintly. “Believe it or not, Raven, I kno
w.”
“I just wish I’d been better…for you.”
“You keep talking as though the world is ending.” He paused. “Though I suppose if it was, we’d know how to face it.”
“I just never appreciated how good I have it. Compared to Kenneth…” A dark shudder ran through her. “I haven’t been grateful enough.”
He held up a hand. “And as much as I’m owed the apologies I have coming for the countless times you’ve shaved years off my life, I don’t want you to assume that this bargain you made with Paimon is the final word in anything.”
Raven’s eyes narrowed. “Do the words unbreakable stone tablet mean anything to you?”
“Not really.”
“How about signed in blood? Or hey, we can put them all together. I signed an unbreakable stone tablet in my blood. There’s no way—”
The Guardian shook his head. “There are always loopholes.”
“Dexter—”
“I know, I know. Paimon is an old and clever Hell King. Some of the stories I’ve read of his account credit him with things that would keep you up nights. He would’ve made sure the deal was legitimate. He would have made it foolproof.” Dexter’s gentle smile grew wider, not with happiness, rather with hope. “But you and I, despite appearances, are not fools. There are always loopholes.”
“I don’t want you getting involved in this,” Raven protested. “If something happened to you because of this mess I created, I don’t—”
“Don’t worry about me.”
Irritation nagged at her nerves. It seemed impossible to hear those words without recalling a certain vampire some three hundred years ago who had said the same thing. Only now the enemy wasn’t a human man with human faults. Now the enemy stood a creature of Hell itself who held the power to make her see the source of Dante’s Inferno. A creature that made good on his promises, depending on how he wished to interpret them.
Still, she couldn’t deny the warmth that might cushion the impending fall. She could say nothing to Dexter to keep him from doing something stupid on her behalf, because he loved her. He remained her keeper, her brother, her mentor, everything she’d needed for three centuries. No matter what it cost him, no matter what came, he would not let her face the end alone.
Ripples Through Time Page 17
