by Jane Cousins
She lay panting, blocking out the sight if not the feel as the brothers bought their swords down for yet another taste of her blood. Nothing she tried worked, for her trouble her back was now scraped raw, her top torn at the elbows, the blood from her numerous cuts pooling underneath her into the grooves of the lid.
“Still think I’m a witch?” She snapped at the brothers as they came in for their fourteenth or was it fifteenth swipe?
The chanting ceased, silence hung heavily in the air except for Xander’s muffled terrified sobs. Guess he didn’t like looking at a tableau of his own imminent demise.
“She’s right…”
“It should have started working by now.”
They turned as one, looking towards Xander’s curled up form all but hidden in the shadows.
“You said she...”
“…was a witch.”
Moving as a co-ordinated unit the brothers closed in on Xander, stalking him, their anger almost tangible.
Hadleigh knew this would be her only chance for freedom, she might not be a witch but they’d eventually kill her anyway. Both her flesh and the net were torn to shreds, if she could just get free whilst their backs were turned she might stand half a chance if she could get to her feet and call her weapons. Desperately she wriggled, ignoring the harsh scrape of stone and blood soaking into her clothes.
“I’m definitely giving you back now.” She hissed under her breath at the armband. Then she felt it in her head, a tingle, an awareness. The armband was awake. “Oh you gorgeous thing.” She coaxed in whispered tones. Through a tear in her shirt she saw the armband begin to glow. The light was so beautiful in this wretched place she couldn’t look away. “I need you.” She whispered to it urgently. “I need you to be what you really are.”
The armband disappeared turning into a golden slice of light travelling down her arm to coalesce into its original dagger form in her hand. She wasted no time in cutting herself free but even with Vaughn’s dagger the net was difficult to dislodge, sticking to both her skin and into her wounds. She managed to cut enough away to tumble off the lid to her feet, standing slowly as her head swam slightly. Thanks to the sticky remanets of the net she still couldn’t call any of her weapons but that hollow numb feeling had dissipated to be replaced only by the sick nausea of blood loss.
Time wasn’t on her side. The brothers would only be distracted for so long with stalking Xander and from the looks of things her natural healing abilities were being negated by the dark magic remanets of the net. Blood loss would weaken her soon to the point of being unable to fight so she didn’t have the luxury of taking a moment to catch her breath, she had to act now. Using the sarcophagus for support she rounded the stone coffin, moving down the stairs to slide up behind Mot as quietly as possible. She was taller than him by a good couple of inches but he was on the heavy side. She plastered herself against his back, grabbing his dark hair to pull his head back, bringing the dagger to rest against the pulse of his jugular.
“Change in plans.”
Mot froze whilst Sek swivelled in the sand to face them, his ruddy face blank but watchful, those dark eyes of his reflecting the torch light as if they were full of hellfire.
“Drop the swords.” Hadleigh demanded.
Mot’s made a dull thump as it landed in the sand at their feet but Sek facing them without the benefit of a an encouraging dagger to the throat refused. Xander for his part had decided to take the opportunity of distraction to drag himself further away in to the dark shadows.
Hadleigh yanked on Mot’s hair, tilting his head back even further, laying the flat of her blade against his skin. Mot cried out, there was a sizzling sound and the smell of burnt flesh filled the air. It seems the demi gods of chaos really didn’t like the blade created by Maat.
“Drop the sword.” Hadleigh pressed the blade harder against Mot’s flesh, it sounded like she was grilling hamburgers, ick.
Sek hesitated for another long moment before dropping his sword. Except he didn’t look defeated or even slightly cowed, as a big grin split his features. Reaching to the back of his jeans he pulled out a gun pointing the business end her way.
Darn, no fair. Demi gods weren’t supposed to have access to modern weaponry. Though if they were capable of handing out speeding tickets then it should have been obvious to her that they’d have badges and guns to back them up. Probably nothing a chaos accolade loved more than a gun, the things were the very definition of the word chaos. Of course if Sek had a gun, then Mot would also. Yanking Mot onto his tippy toes to provide her with a little more guarantee that Sek wouldn’t attempt any pot shots at her head she finally understood what was grinding into her hip bone. Mot’s gun.
In a perfect world she’d pull that sucker out and shoot Sek in the head. The only problem was she didn’t have the first clue of how to aim a gun. She’d seen enough movies to understand about pulling the trigger, but aiming? The only thing she could do with Mot’s gun was yank it out of the back of his jeans and throw it across the room, her actions lightning fast, barely allowing Mot’s head to dip for only a split second before she grabbed his hair once more.
“This here is what we’d call a stand-off.” Sek drawled lazily.
“I wouldn’t go that far.” Hadleigh crouched at the knees slightly so there was less of her head visible to Sek. “It’s not like you’ve got a clear shot or anything.”
Sek chuffed a laugh and it didn’t sound pretty, half way between a grunt and gurgle. “I can always just shoot straight through my brother.”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Mot ground out tightly.
“See weapons made by man, things like bullets they don’t do us much harm.” Sek elaborated.
“It would still hurt.” Mot reminded his brother perhaps in warning.
“Yeah ... But you’d get over it.”
Goddess what had she ever done to be entombed with these two hillbilly demi gods masquerading as lawmen? Easing up slightly on the press of the blade, the smell of burning flesh combined with her blood loss making her feel like she wanted to throw up.
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Hadleigh gave another sharp tug on Mot’s hair. “We’ve agreed I’m not a witch, that there’ll be no raising Daddy today. Now I know you’re not happy with Xander but leaving him here entombed is just as good as killing him, maybe more poetic even. So you two just toddle off and find yourselves another long lost relative to dupe.”
“You’re going to let me go?” Mot asked his back arched, straining to remain on his toes so she wouldn’t rip out half his hair.
“Well I’ll probably be coming after you … but not today. So do we have an agreement?”
She chanced moving slightly to get a better view of Sek’s face to gauge his thoughts. But the man’s gaze wasn’t on her and Mot, he was staring at their feet. Hoping this wasn’t some sort of distraction she glanced down and grimaced at the sight of blood splattering and pooling beneath her boots. Goddess darn this evil net, it would surely be the death of her.
“We’ll go.” Sek stated.
“Swear by Apep you won’t return to this tomb until after sunset tomorrow night.”
Sek froze, a flash of something behind his ruddy granite expression, anger? “I swear by Apep that I will not return to this tomb until sunset hence.”
Hadleigh yanked hard on Mot, who ground out the same assurance.
“Then go.” Hadleigh commanded.
Sek disappeared instantly as did his black sword, Mot remained.
“Why haven’t you gone?”
“Maat’s dagger, I can’t leave with it touching me.”
Hadleigh had barely lifted the dagger an inch when Mot disappeared, his sudden absence causing her to stumble sideways, catching a boot on the bottom step. With a lurching stagger she managed to make it up the remaining steps and climb onto the sarcophagus with a heartfelt groan of relief. Anywhere was better than collapsing on the sand in her sorry and bloodied state.
S
he didn’t fall into unconsciousness exactly but certainly the world faded a little because when the gun was shoved against her temple some time later clarity returned with a thud. Goddess darn it, how come every smuck on the planet seemed to know how to handle a gun except for her? “Xander.” She acknowledged, not bothering to move.
“Get me out of here.” He demanded.
Urrgh, she really didn’t want to have to deal with this bozo right now, she felt as weak as a newborn kitten and the appeal of just curling up and having a nap was all consuming. The only person stopping her was the joker continuing to poke her in the head with the barrel of Mot’s gun she had so carelessly thrown away.
“I said get me out of here.” Xander hissed again.
Hadleigh turned her head slightly taking a good look at him, covered with dirt and sand, cradling his left, presumably broken arm tight against his body, Xander looked pale, scared and kind of crazy. For the first time since coming to the tomb she noticed his eyes. “I thought your eyes were blue.”
Funny the inane things that seem important when you’re bleeding out, noting that his eyes were now brown with black rims.
“Contacts.” He nudged her temple again. “Get us out of here.”
“What about the words ‘I’m not a witch’ do you not get?”
“I know you have magic, you beat me on the mats.”
“I didn’t need magic to do that fuckwit, you telegraph your moves like a tanker manoeuvring.”
“What about the swords then, the knives?”
“Okay you caught me … magic.” She closed her eyes, she really was tired.
Jab, again with the gun. “Then get us out of here!”
Grrr. “Xander.” She opened her eyes glaring at him. “There’s only one thing my magic makes me good at … that’s killing things. So feel free to jab me again with that gun and I’ll happily use my magic.”
“I don’t believe you.” No jab this time but his whiny voice was right in her ear.
“Yeah because lying here in my own pool of blood is really my first preference. This net you put on me Xander, it’s still working. I don’t have any magic to call.”
“But I saw you, you produced that dagger.” He pointed to her left hand, squinting his eyes slightly as if the sight of Maat’s dagger hurt his eyes.
“That doesn’t even belong to me, just … keeping it safe for a while.” She tightened her grip on the dagger, liking the small tingles of warmth the dagger was sending up her arm. Little pulses as if it were trying to tell her something, communicate something important. If only the dagger were a dog, run Lassie, tell Vaughn I’m bleeding out on the lid of a sarcophagus in the burial tomb of Apep the God of Chaos.
“Where’d it go?”
“Where did who go?” Hadleigh frowned trying to work out what Xander was going on about now.
“The scary gold knife … where is it?”
Hadleigh looked down. “Oh”
She clamped her mouth shut tight, suddenly feeling hollow, it was silly to miss an inanimate object but it had been nice knowing in her final moments that a piece of Vaughn was with her … at the end. And now she had no one but … Xander. Worse she had nothing to kill him with if he grew too annoying. This darn day just kept getting better and better.
* * *
She was dreaming, she was back in bed with Vaughn, cradled in his arms and he was whispering naughty sexy things in her ear like ‘You’d better not fucking die on me you hear? You’re mine Hadleigh. You don’t get to leave me like this.’ Huh, well perhaps not so naughty or sexy after all.
Opening her eyes she found her dream had come true, somehow Vaughn was in the tomb and he’d picked her up like a baby, holding her in close to his body, his gold eyes intense. “Vaughn?”
“There you are.” He managed a tight smile but she could see the white lines of tension around his mouth. “I’m getting you out of here okay, just hold on.”
“You’re not taking her anywhere.” Xander on the opposite side of the sarcophagus to Vaughn raised the gun, aiming it at Vaughn’s head. “Put her down, you take me first. You can come back for her once I’m somewhere safe.”
“Xander I’m not putting her down and trust me you don’t want me to. Every instinct I have right now is screaming at me to rip your head off with my bare hands.” Vaughn bared his teeth at Xander for a split second before returning his attention to the mess that was Hadleigh. So much blood, so many cuts and that faraway look in her eyes, it terrified him to see her in such a state. What terrified him even more was this damn magic net, stuck to Hadleigh and now to his own skin, trying to suck his power, his strength. Poor Hadleigh who was still encased in the stuff, Maat knows what it was doing to her. The plan had been to call Maat’s blade, have it lead him back to Hadleigh, scoop her up and head home. It wasn’t Xander keeping him here, it was the net, nibbling away at his power.
“Okay.” Xander swung the barrel of the gun down a few inches. “If you don’t value your own life you macho shit, how about hers?”
Vaughn scowled, he could sense his power, flickering and wavering, peaking and troughing, he just had to reach for it at the exact right moment. Well that and not let Xander shoot Hadleigh. Turning he presented his back to Xander. Let him try and shoot Hadleigh now.
“You can...” Suddenly there it was, his power, he thrust it out and through the blade of Maat, currently masquerading as a wide gold bracelet around his right wrist. “Take us home, buddy, take us there fast.” As the magic gathered he dimly registered Xander’s angry shout, the abrupt bang of the gun and the flash of brief pain in his right shoulder. Then the magic swirled and swept them away.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Vaughn you need to put her down.”
It was Nate’s voice, familiar, coaxing, but Vaughn didn’t want to do what Nate was asking of him. Every fibre of his being loathed the idea of letting Hadleigh go. If he did she might slip away, escape to somewhere he might not be able to follow. Would Maat let him cross the river Styx if he chose to go now?
‘Mine’… he whispered in his head then felt compelled to say the word out loud. “Mine.” Frowning as a bright scarlet drop of blood splashed down on to a pristine patch of creamy skin at the base of Hadleigh’s throat. That drop had him mesmerized, where had it come from? He watched fascinated as it rolled across her flesh like it had a destination in mind.
“Vaughn.”
He shrugged off Nate. Too busy watching that drop of blood roll right into a long seeping cut across Hadleigh’s chest. Somewhere deep inside a measure of his tension released. Reaching up he grabbed one of Hadleigh’s shoulders, shaking her gently. “Hadleigh.”
“What’s going on?” The voice was soft but filled with urgency.
“Hadleigh wake up…” Vaughn didn’t bother to look up at the woman who’d emerged from the closet in Hadleigh’s apartment back at Maat tower.
“You must be Doc Nell, Darcy’s sister. I’m Nate, the one who called. We have a bit of a situation here.”
“Hadleigh.” Vaughn needed her to wake up, reaching up he cupped her jaw and tapped. “Hadleigh.” All his focus upon the woman lying in his arms bleeding out.
“Hadleigh’s been hurt, cut … a lot.” Nate’s voice was low and grim. “As near as I can figure that netting isn’t letting her heal and Vaughn has gone Hitchcock crazy. He’s been shot, he’s bleeding all over her and he won’t let her go. And now he’s started to glow.”
“Oh Goddess.” Nell’s voice sounded shocked, whether at his tale or the macabre sight of Vaughn stretched out on the bed, Hadleigh cradled in his lap, blood staining practically every surface in sight. “Okay.” Nell thumped her doctor’s bag down on the edge of the bed, reaching up to pat her chignon. “We’re going to have to work around him. I’ll need your help.”
“But shouldn’t we move her?” Nate grimaced at the thought of trying to restrain Vaughn.
Nell was busy opening her bag, pulling out bags of herbs and greenery. Just what sort o
f doctor was she?
“No leave him, he’s probably the only thing keeping her tethered to this plane right now … here…” She held out a bowl. “Fill this with water.”
* * *
Hadleigh opened her eyes, her mouth dropping open in shock. When had Grandpa re-decorated? He hated change with a fiery - rather hit it with lightning and watch it smoulder - passion. But as she looked around at the vast room, the vaulted ceilings, the rich gleaming jewel toned rugs, gorgeous tapestries lining the walls she still recognized it as Valhalla. When had the floors and walls been changed from their usual dark pitted wood into gleaming marble? Marble shot through with lightning she noted as a bolt of light arced across the ceiling.
“Odie?’ She called out listening to her voice echo.
Where was the grumpy one eyed grizzled old warrior? For that matter, where were her Aunts, Uncles and all her lazy ale swilling cousins? She couldn’t remember ever seeing the great hall completely empty, this was where the family ate, drank and just generally hung out. Odin often to be found sitting at the head of one of the large worn, pock marked trestle tables recounting battles gone by. But the tables were empty and the wood gleamed like new. Weirder and weirder.
She would have liked to stay and explore the changes in the room more but she had somewhere she needed to be … didn’t she?
Yes, there, the doors to the throne room. She’d never seen them closed before, or made out of the same black marble as the floors and walls in this weird alternate Valhalla. Odie wasn’t much for sitting on his throne as the room was kind of drafty and the fire place smoked, so usually it was left empty. Yet for some reason as she faced those ceiling high closed double doors she knew what she sought, the reason she had come to Valhalla was waiting for her in the throne room. Striding across the room she stood a few feet before the closed doors hesitating, should she knock or just walk right it?
“A little eager there to leave me behind aren’t you?”
Hadleigh swung, once more her mouth dropping open, Vaughn stood a few feet away, looking tall and solid in his fatigues. Yet there was something different about him … like the walls here little arcs of lightning sparked and flashed golden under his skin, in his eyes.
