by T. M. Cromer
Her delighted laugh rang out. The sound made him want to chuckle in return, but he held back. There wasn’t a thing about the current situation that was funny.
She sidled up to Ryanne and leaned over to study Nash’s face, a canvas of pain. “Nasty business, this. A horrible death sentence, don’t you think, child?”
Ryanne made a strangled sound but kept her opinions to herself.
In an unexpected move, Nephthys spun and perched on the lip of the stone holding Nash. She crossed her long, exposed legs and rested back on her palms. The pose screamed casual and playful.
“Well, sisters. It seems we all have a vested interest in today’s outcome. All three bloodlines represented.”
Isis lifted a brow and crossed her arms. “Personally, I feel this feud has gone on far too long. In recent years, the battle has cost too many casualties on all sides.”
“I would have sacrifices from your line,” Serqet told Isis. “Pick the three you choose to lose. There will be no reviving them this time.”
“No. Three is too many. You have already cursed Nash. Let that be enough. Let it be done.”
“It will never be done. Not until Alastair, Spring, and the mouthy redhead are gone,” Serqet vowed.
The only mouthy redhead in the lot was Autumn. It seemed Serqet was after all the strongest Thornes. Knowing he had to derail this particular train of conversation, Knox stepped forward, still managing to keep Spring from Serqet’s line of sight.
“You fail to realize one thing. Should anything happen to Spring, I will rain down hell on any and all involved. You can play your games and spin the wheel of destiny on the members of this poor family, but they’ve suffered enough.” He warmed to his tirade and towered over Serqet. His rage at the unfairness of their fight, striking the match on his fury fire. “They’ve been subject to your whims for thousands of years. Why? Because of me? Have my life and be done with it. Let my death be the end. But know, if you do anything further to harm this family, I will come back from the Otherworld, and I will destroy you.”
All three goddesses gaped.
Nephthys was the first to recover and clapped her hands. “He made my heart beat faster. No one has done that in years, not since… well, that doesn’t matter.” She waved a hand in dismissal. “But his speech was thrilling and so deliciously masculine, don’t you agree, sisters? Such a worthy human. I vote he lives.”
Chapter 20
A slow anger began to brew in Ryanne’s chest. With each nonchalant wave of a hand or casual mention of a Thorne family member’s death, burning fury rolled through her. The longer she remained frozen, the more aware she’d been of the state of the others in the clearing. It took her long enough, but she recognized they were all aware of the happenings around them.
She met Alastair’s eyes across the short distance. His gaze was steady, and no judgment or condemnation shone from his eyes. She tried to convey her apology for being manipulated, and somehow, she guessed he understood.
“Okay, new plan,” she blurted.
Everyone’s attention turned on her.
“First, I’m getting a cramp. This is uncomfortable as fuck, and I’m done. Release me at once.”
“You—”
She cut off Serqet’s predicted outrage. “If you expect me to do your bidding, you’ll do as I ask.”
From behind Serqet, Isis smiled her approval.
Ryanne was released so suddenly, she almost fell into the tail of the Red Scorpion and ended her impromptu plan before it began. The scorpion rippled and swished that shiny appendage as if it were an irritated cat denied its prey.
“I thought three strokes released the scorpion?” Granted she was pushing the limit of the goddess’s tolerance, but Nash was the most important person in her universe. She’d do what she could to reverse the damage her sister had wrought.
“He’ll stay suspended where he is until negotiations are settled,” Serqet snapped.
“Can you repair the hole in his heart and save him or not?”
“I can do anything I so desire.” The goddess stomped forward, the folds of her deep red dress billowing behind her as the winds increased their speed.
“So far, I’m not impressed,” Ryanne growled. She had nothing to lose. Not anymore. “Remove this curse from him, and maybe I’ll believe you.”
“She’s a horrid child. I’d smite her, sister,” Isis said as she moved closer to the altar. “Teach her a lesson on how to talk to her betters.”
If steam could come off the top of Serqet’s head, it would. “I’m not smiting my prized weapon!”
“It was only a suggestion, my dear.”
Nephthys scoffed her disbelief. “When has she ever listened to your suggestions, sister?”
“There is always a first time.”
“Be quiet. A goddess can’t hear the world hum with the two of you prattling on.” Serqet gave her sisters one last glare before she settled her brooding gaze on Nash. “Do you love him, child?”
Ryanne held her breath and nodded. She refused to allow the small seed of hope she was feeling to take hold.
“More than your own life?”
“Yes.”
The second she spoke the word aloud, the necklace retracted. The sharp silver legs released their grip on Nash’s diaphragm and folded into the body of the scorpion. The tail relaxed its aggressive arch and curled into a ball.
When the clasp gave way and the chain fell from behind Nash’s neck, Ryanne took her first deep inhale. Without waiting for the go-ahead, she grabbed the chain, whipped it back, and flung the necklace as far as she could. It hit one of the standing stones and sank into the dirt by the base.
“If you wish the hole in his heart to be repaired, you have to first agree to my terms,” Serqet informed her.
Ryanne wanted to promise anything, but she refused to take a life other than her own. She’d never be able to live with herself, and if she could murder another, Nash would hate her. In that case, what would be the point in hurting one of his family?
“What is it you require?” she asked hoarsely.
“You will kill Spring Thorne.” Serqet faced her sisters. “You will not interfere with her actions, whatever she chooses to do. You will not save the mortal.”
Both goddesses gave a nod as affirmation.
The earth rumbled around them, and lightning flashed across the clearing. Knox was about to have a meltdown, if Ryanne had to guess. But she could no more hurt the lovely woman who had eased Nash’s suffering than she could hurt Nash himself.
“You require a sacrifice?” she clarified.
“Yes.”
Ryanne reached down to remove the knife Ryker had strapped to her ankle. “You agree, a life for a life, and then it’s done?”
“No!” Knox yelled, surging forward.
“Yes, a life for a life, and then it’s done.” Serqet agreed. Her dark kohl-lined eyes glowed with an unholy light.
“Fine.”
Knox gripped Ryanne’s wrist in his meaty hand and whipped her around. An ever-expanding ball of bright white light brewed in his left hand. Sparks flew from the ball and shot in every direction. “I can’t let you do that, Ryanne.”
“You don’t have a choice, Knox.” She stared up into his hard, determined features. She allowed a small smile, and then she winked. It was enough of a surprise for his grip to lessen. She yanked her arm free and scored the vein of her opposite wrist with the tip of the blade. Pressing hard, she swiftly ran it the length of her forearm, trying not to scream from the excruciating pain.
“A life for a life,” she gasped out and promptly dropped like a stone.
Nash’s first conscious thought was that although his chest ached, the unbearable burning was gone. He cracked his eyes and took in the gold and red sky above him. Where was he? Inching his head to the left, he looked into the sky-blue eyes of one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.
Isis.
He swiped his swollen tongue over his parche
d lips and swallowed. His mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton and had absorbed all the available moisture. “Exalted One,” he whispered.
Her slender fingers trailed across his exposed skin, creating heat wherever they touched. The warming sensation wasn’t unpleasant, but he had to wonder why he was lying on a stone slab as she felt up his chest.
With a second swipe of his tongue along his dry lips, he asked the question of the hour, “Did my father decide to sacrifice me?”
Her light, amused laughter made him smile.
“No, dear boy. I’m healing your wounds.”
He nodded his head and let his eyes close. “That’s much appreciated. My chest aches like a four-hundred pound gorilla was using it as a bongo drum.”
She chuckled again.
“How is he?”
His father’s voice prompted him to open his eyes again.
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say I think I’ll survive, Dad.”
Alastair’s large hand settled on his shoulder.
Nash could feel the tension in his father’s grip. It was there in the lines around his eyes and mouth as well.
“What’s going on?”
“We’ll talk in a short while. Rest and let Isis work her magic.”
He started to sit up, only to be shoved back down by both Alastair and Isis.
“Where’s Ryanne?” Somehow, some way, Nash knew his father’s grim expression had to do with Ryanne. “Where is she?”
Alastair looked over his head to a point beyond Nash’s vision, his eyes questioning.
Nash lifted himself on his elbows and twisted his neck about to see what had caught his father’s attention. Knox sat with a limp Ryanne cradled against his chest. She looked paler than Nash had ever seen her. GiGi was bent over Ryanne’s wrist with a wand in hand. Purple light filled the space between the wand’s tip and the skin of her arm. As he watched, the skin slowly knitted together.
In a flash, he was up and staggering toward her, his own healing forgotten. Nash crashed to his knees beside her and felt for a pulse. Her heartbeat was thready and barely detectable, but she was still alive.
“What the devil happened to her?” he demanded. His heart pounded double time to make up for her lagging rate.
“She traded her life for yours, son.” Alastair’s tone was somber. For once, the dry, mocking quality was gone.
“Why? Why would she do that?” he cried as he gently transferred her body from Knox’s embrace to his own. “Why, Ryanne?” he whispered. “Why? Why? Why?” He swayed back and forth, his forehead on her cheek. The most precious thing in his life lay in his arms, knocking at death’s door. “Don’t leave me. Please.”
“I’ve done all I can do,” GiGi sat back and announced. “The next few hours will be the determining factor.”
Nash lifted his gaze to Isis. “Help her.”
Isis’s expression was grave. “I cannot. It was the one promise I made to my sisters. Your mate knew what she was doing when she cut open her wrist. She entered into a bargain with Serqet. A life for a life.”
“So you’re saying she is going to die regardless?” he managed.
“I’m sorry, child.”
“I don’t accept that.” He tore his gaze from her sympathetic blue eyes and desperately glanced around the clearing, hoping there was someone with a solution. “I’ve done everything any of you have ever asked. Even when it went against the Council or the Goddess. Help me now.”
Spring moved to the front of the crowd and knelt beside him. “Of course we will. Take her back to her apartment. I’ll see what I have in my storeroom and follow shortly.”
“But the magic of the stones—” he started.
“Won’t help,” Isis quickly cut him off. “The stones are of the gods and goddesses. We cannot get involved in the saving of this human. The magic of the clearing cannot be utilized.”
Resting his cheek on the silky softness of Ryanne’s thick hair, Nash closed his eyes against an onslaught of emotions. Bitterness, anger, despair—they all attacked at once, fighting for dominance.
Visualizing the interior of Ryanne’s apartment, Nash transitioned his cells and teleported to her bedroom. He carefully laid her on the bed and drew the covers up around her to keep her body warm. Like non-magical humans, witches were susceptible to shock. Exhaustion overtook him. He reclined beside her and gathered her close in the hope of keeping her warm.
“What happened to my sister?”
He jolted out of his sleepy state and jumped from the bed. He was halfway to Rylee, hands outstretched, when her ragged appearance registered.
“You have ten seconds to leave and never return, or I won’t be responsible for what I do to you,” he warned with a snarl. It took every ounce of self-control not to wring her scrawny neck.
“What can I do to help her?” she pleaded.
“Help her? You’re the reason she’s in that state!” His fists clenched and unclenched in his desire to harm.
“She was never supposed to be hurt. Victor promised.”
“You’re a fool if you believe anything that comes out of his mouth.” He sighed heavily, all the rage evaporating. His energy levels were at an all-time low, and maintaining that type of fury was draining. “You need to leave, Rylee. You no longer have a sister. You forfeited that right.”
“Please, Nash. Let me help her.”
“How? How exactly do you think you can help?”
The air around them crackled, heralding the arrival of the Thorne family.
Rylee’s skin turned a sickly shade of green when she saw Alastair and Autumn step through the bedroom doorway.
When Alastair lifted his hand in preparation for a magical strike, Nash stepped in his path. “No. No more violence. Let her go, Dad.”
His knees buckled, but he never hit the floor. His father leapt forward and supported Nash’s weight.
“I’m not leaving,” Rylee stated firmly. Where she found the courage was anyone’s guess because based on the trembling in her voice, the woman was terrified. Perhaps there was more of Ryanne in her than imagined. “I need to help her.”
“What about a transfusion? Blood and magic.”
Nash lifted his head to stare at Quentin Buchanan. “Pardon?”
“They are identical twins. Ryanne needs an infusion of both,” Quentin said.
All eyes turned to Rylee.
She paled. “I’ll do it.”
“I wouldn’t trust that she doesn’t have poison in her veins and intends to finish off her poor sister,” Alastair stated coldly. “She’s a puppet.”
Spring stepped forward. “We can test that. But first, empty your pockets, Rylee. No one is stepping within range of you until we see what you are packing. Fool me once, and all.”
Rylee turned her pockets out, then lifted her shirt hem to the bottom of her bra and spun around.
“Lift your pants legs to the knee,” Spring ordered.
Again, Rylee complied.
“Follow me to the living room. And know that if you pull anything, my husband will fry your ass without a second thought.” Spring gave a side nod to Knox, who stood next to her with arms folded across his muscular chest.
“No tricks. I swear. I only want to save my sister.”
“Quentin, you and Autumn ward this apartment. The strongest wards you can conjure,” Alastair ordered. “Now everyone out. I want to speak to my son.”
The family left, with Quentin closing the door behind him.
“Don’t be angry with Isis, son. She did what she could, and she repaired the hole in your heart when Serqet went back on her word.”
“Then why won’t she help Ryanne?” Nash demanded. He wanted to shrug off the hand on his back.
“Because she doesn’t go back on her promises. She did what she had to in order to protect our line.”
“Our line,” he scoffed. “That’s what it always boils down to, doesn’t it? The mighty Thornes. Who cares about the collateral damage to a
nyone else? I was cursed the day I was born into this family.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way, boy. But know I am proud to call you my son.” Alastair embraced him. “So proud. I’m sorry for all you’ve been subjected to as my kin, but somehow, we’ll save Ryanne.”
Nash hesitated for a moment. Of their own volition, his arms encircled his father. It was the first hug they’d shared since Nash was a child. Tears burned his eyes, and his nasal passages filled. He barely held back the weighty sobs threatening to crush his chest.
“I love you, Dad,” he choked out.
The words were barely audible, but Alastair seemed to hear them all the same because his arms tightened.
“I love you, too, Nash. I always have, from the moment you opened your bright, intelligent eyes. You had a world of knowledge in them, even then.” He cleared his throat and gave one final squeeze before releasing Nash. “Now, time is of the essence to save your girl.”
Chapter 21
Ryanne cautiously approached the iron gate to her childhood home. Surely she was dreaming? She was amazed that nothing had changed. The old Victorian was still a charming shade of pale yellow with a bold royal-blue door. White scrollwork decorated the eaves, making the large wrap-around porch that much more inviting.
As she opened the gate, the front door swung wide, revealing her mother attired in a floral sundress. The wide welcoming smile on Marsha Caldwell’s face filled Ryanne’s heart to overflowing. “Mom?”
“Hello, my beautiful girl.”
The embrace was real and warm and everything Ryanne suddenly remembered it could be. “How is this possible?”
A fleeting, sad look crossed her mother’s face before it was replaced by a bright, happy grin. “You’re with us now. In the Otherworld.”
Heart pounding, Ryanne looked behind her at the way she’d come. Nothing but a row of homes greeted her. What had she hoped to see? Nash waiting for her at the gate? The Otherworld was what non-magical humans referred to as Heaven. Which, if this wasn’t a crazy, vivid dream, meant she had crossed over.
