Blood of an Ancient: A Beri O'Dell Book, Book 2

by Rinda Elliott

  I worked hard to control my features, to not shake in fear, because something or lots of somethings moved along those upper walls. I tossed the lilin to her feet. “I’d like to make a trade. The lilin for the Minoan warrior called Nikolos.”

  She merely glanced at the struggling succubus on the ground before looking back at me. Her neck moved a lot like the snakes—a sort of slithering, weaving movement. “Why would I trade when both belong to me?”

  “The lilin is mine now and I’m offering her in bargain.”

  Kampe tilted her head. “You are in my world, my home. You brought my property back to me and for that you may offer your bargain. But you must bargain with something else.”

  “Like what? What will it take to get Nikolos’s freedom?”

  Phro made a strangled sound in her throat and my gaze flew to her when she gasped and grabbed her neck. She shook her head wildly at me, but then she was whisked up to the stands as if she’d been plucked off the ground by a giant, invisible hand. Her screech of anger made the audience laugh.

  Audience? Shock froze me to the spot as I took in the rapidly filling stands. Giants, or probably Titans, took up most of the space and one, who was so large I could only see his hand, leaned to the side as his head—the head of a dragon—lowered enough to peer at me. Gods and goddesses sprawled in throne-styled chairs along one side as the smaller benches at the top filled with other creatures and even some humans. The noise level began to rise to deafening levels. Still, I heard the doors slam behind me.

  “Do you want me to fight you?” I asked Kampe.

  Her chuckle sent shivers down my back. “Fight? Yes. Me? No. You battle my greatest fighter and I will grant your Nikolos his freedom.”

  I hesitated. How could I not? From the looks of that crowd, monsters of all shapes and sizes filled this realm. I could be agreeing to fight Hades himself, for all I knew. Picturing that huge dead giant, I closed my eyes and the image of Nikolos as I’d seen him last filled my mind. A wicked-thick sob rose in my chest to lodge in my throat and I had to pull in two deep breaths before I could get my next words out. “Will you grant him passage back to his own world even if I lose? You only said fight, not win.”

  Her laughter brushed over my skin like needles. “I will grant the warrior’s freedom regardless of the outcome.” She stepped back and lifted her arms in a dramatic gesture, turning a full circle as she smiled. I guessed this was the audience’s clue that things were about to begin because the crowd noise trickled into silence.

  “Welcome! Welcome to this unexpected game of sport!”

  She continued to turn in slow circles, her arms out in a dramatic flair, her dragon’s tail swirling in the air behind her. Her voice carried through the cavernous space like she had a microphone. Fear, as strong as the day I’d faced the Dweller on the Threshold, swamped me, sent black spots in front of my eyes. I gritted my teeth and clamped down every muscle in my body because losing consciousness now would only mean a faster death. And I could die. I probably would. I’d been feeling the pain of my wounds here and I hadn’t slept a full night in longer than I could remember.

  I didn’t have enough strength to fight.

  I thought of Elsa, Castor and Blythe, and in the next instant, even sharper terror flooded my system. What would my body do there? Would it show a gruesome parody of what I suffered here or would I just quietly stop breathing? Hot tears threatened to spill at the thought of Elsa seeing that. Castor and Blythe would be sad, but they hadn’t loved me as long as my sister had and I was all that was left of her family.

  I looked up into the stands to find Phro and saw that someone had bound her to a chair. She struggled to get free and something in the way she looked at me, the frantic fear, told me I was in for something bad. It also told me she cared a great deal about me. All these years, she’d been nothing but an albatross around my neck and here, when I faced a battle alone, I knew that if she could, she would have been down here fighting with me.

  A huge stone slab suddenly rose from the center of the pit and Kampe scampered atop it with her lizard legs and snake feet. The serpents, black, brown and gray, writhed and hissed as Kampe turned and aimed one long, gruesome claw at me. “A special guest. The daughter of the goddess Ariadne and the Dark One himself, Bergdis Hildegun VonBrahm!”

  I snarled and took a step toward that hunk of stone, planning to jump up there and rip her head off.

  Her tail snapped around, stopping right before it hit me. She turned and aimed that shark-toothed grin my way. Did everyone know how much I hated being a product of that serial killer? His name wasn’t mine. It would never, ever be mine.

  Kampe pivoted on her pedestal, a smarmy, calculated expression turning her ugly features into a fearsome mask of sadistic delight. “She has bartered for her lover’s freedom, agreed to fight my finest warrior since Achilles himself. No one has defeated him in the year he has been my champion. As his name implies, all his challengers have found their ends in the very tombs of his namesake. I give you Tholos!”

  I started to shake. Flashes of things said to me about time here came to the forefront of my mind. In my world, Nikolos had only been gone a couple of months, but in this one it could have been years. Shit, it could have been months or even years between my visits to him. All this time I imagined him in that dirt dungeon for a short period. Horror flooded my mouth with metallic acid and I fought to not show this weakness because in my heart I knew what was happening.

  Tholos, the word for a Mycenaean warrior tomb on Crete, the ones that had made many believe in the Mycenaean-run downfall of the Minoans. I knew the truth because Nikolos had told me the truth. About how the Dweller had amassed souls and tried to break through the barriers of dimensions, how the last battle had caused the volcanic eruption that had killed the last of his people.

  The coincidence of those tombs. From that place. And…my warrior.

  When Nikolos was thrown into the pit, I knew I’d been had.

  Chapter Fifteen

  I started to run to him, but skidded to a halt, dust kicking up around my heels. I took in the chains he strained to escape, the blood-red of his eyes, the short tufts of matted hair that looked like someone had taken a razor blade to his head. Thin scars showed white in the dirt along his hairline. My gaze slid down his body to the ropes of new muscle that had changed him, made him look massive. He no longer wore the ratted jeans of his jump into this world. Instead, a filthy kilt/loincloth wrapped his hips loosely, the white geometric patterns barely visible for the dirt.

  He looked like he’d been rolled in mud, but bruises in every color imaginable covered his chest, showing through the filth.

  Fury over his treatment sent a roar of rage from my throat and this time, I didn’t hesitate. I whipped out my knife and ran at that raised slab to jump Kampe, then wrapped my arms around her throat fast so my body was plastered to her back. I set my knife to her neck hard enough to draw immediate blood. I hoped the proximity of my body would keep me out of reach of her slapping tail.

  I was wrong. It slammed into my back with such force I gasped and would have let go, but I couldn’t. This could be my only chance to take her out. Ignoring the stinging fire down my entire spine, I pressed in the blade.

  “My guards have orders to bash in the head of Tholos if I’m hurt.”

  Looking over at the three men and two women standing guard, I saw that one carried an enormous mallet. I would never get to him in time to stop it. But I pressed the blade even harder to her neck, briefly entertaining the idea of ending this, taking us all out. She needed to die for what she’d done to Nikolos.

  “I can see it, you know.” She spoke too softly for anyone else to hear. “The shadow that writhes inside you, the part of you that loves the feel of warm blood and tearing flesh. There is only one way for you to find balance and in this world it does not exist.”

  “Maybe I’m not after balance,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “If not me, then some other god or go
ddess here will put you in chains and use you for sport.” She paused and released a low, rumbling laugh. “Without your balance, you will eventually cave to that thirst for blood—even without our lovely rivers to help you along.”

  “Is that what did this to Nikolos? The rivers here turned him into this?”

  “He was the one to cave to the water first. After that, he lost the will to live for months. I made sure he got it back.”

  I couldn’t imagine what she would have done to spark life back into him. But the remorse that flooded my heart with her words had me tightening my fingers on the grip of my knife. Nikolos hadn’t caved to the water first. I’d forced it down his throat. My knees nearly buckled. I wrapped my other arm around her neck and squeezed. What had he seen to make him voluntarily drink water from the rivers?

  “Ahhh, you’re dying to know, aren’t you? He does not like to watch the suffering of others. A few of my more creative executions and your man was drinking down the rivers like Eurynomus falls on the flesh of the dead. And just look at the lovely creature he is now. All fear to enter sport with him. And so far, all have died.”

  How she talked when I squeezed the life out of her throat was beyond my comprehension until I realized her throat wasn’t moving at all—she’d put the words directly into my head.

  “It’s too late.” Her voice echoed. “He will never again be the man you knew.”

  “I’ll find a way. A god or a spell—there is always something.”

  “Not this time.” Her hands came up and ten claws sank into my shoulders.

  I screamed at the slicing, hot pain, dropping my arms so I could pull back. But she grabbed me and flung me to the ground at Nikolos’s feet.

  He snarled and pulled on his chains.

  Kampe slithered around me on her snake feet, laughing as she moved to the doorway. She lifted her hand, extended one claw into the air and made a circling motion. The heavy clank of chains hitting the ground sent terror in to freeze my lungs. Kampe and the guards walked through the doors and shut me in with Nikolos.

  I scrambled away from him, blood dripping down my arms from where her claws had pierced, but I didn’t get away fast enough. He slammed into my back, sending both of us to the ground, his weight pushing my face into the dirt so hard something scraped my cheek. I tried to heave him off, but he only made that horrible snarling, growling sound again and wrapped his big hands around my throat. Gasping, I clawed at his fingers, but he held fast and stars winked behind my closed eyes. I managed to push up to my hands and knees, then sent my elbow back into his chest as hard as I could. He grunted, but his hands loosened enough for me to rip them off my throat and crawl away from him. I jumped to my feet and ran across the room, leaping and grabbing on to one of the wooden support beams.

  He didn’t come at me right away, just crouched there, watching me with those eerie red eyes.

  “Goddess, Nikolos, please!” I wobbled on my perch, trying to find something, anything, in his eyes. “Look at me! Listen to the sound of my voice!”

  Nothing flickered through his expression, not even a spark of recognition. He stood and walked toward me…no, stalked me. I noticed he favored his right leg and tears burned the backs of my eyes as I took in the new scars on his body. The chest wound that he’d received in our battles with dweller demons had scarred over, letting me know it had been more than a couple of months for him here.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t know.”

  He came toward me slowly, head partially down, eyes glaring up at me. There were no pupils, just red. A dark, blood-red. He reached for my leg and I quickly jumped down and ran across the room to climb onto another beam. I slipped on first grab, my fingers wet from the blood from my shoulder. I managed to grasp the wood, ignore the splinter that sliced between my thumb and forefinger, and heave myself up. “I can do this all day!” I yelled into the stands. “I will not fight him! I won’t give you your fucking sport!”

  Laughter trickled down from the audience, then grew in volume. The cacophony of voices, so much like an excited crowd at a ball game in my dimension, picked up until my ears rang. I kept an eye on Nikolos as he stood, silent and tall, watching me. Assessing my next move probably.

  The crowd quieted suddenly and I took my eyes off him long enough to glance up again, only to find a man standing at the top of the coliseum. He stood out with his powerfully broad shoulders and his long black hair and beard. He wore jeans, of all things—jeans and a leather vest. Our eyes met and I was startled to see his amber gaze from this far away.

  Nikolos made an impatient sound that made me face him again.

  “Nikolos, listen to me!” I held on to the beam as weakness crept into the arm with the dweller wound. I’d lost a lot of blood.

  He took a step toward me, thigh muscles tense as if he was getting ready to spring.

  “Please remember me,” I said, voice low. “Please.”

  I’d misjudged his limp because in the next instant, he rushed me, jumped and had his big hand wrapped around my ankle. I kicked him off but lost my balance. Flailing, I tried to grab on to the wooden beam, but fell toward him. He swung his fist into my face.

  Pain exploded in my cheek as I flew back into the stone wall hard, one elbow making a sickening crunch. My arm went numb all the way up to my shoulder. It was the same stupid arm with the dweller wound. I ground my teeth to keep the dizziness from weakening me, my hands bracing me against the wall.

  I sprinted across the pit and was reaching for another beam when he crashed into me from behind again. This time, dirt filled my mouth and scraped my already sore face. Grunting, I kicked back and felt my boot connect solidly with his chest. His bruised chest. He grimaced but kept coming for me. His fingers around my knee dug in so hard it felt like he’d go through my costume pants. I rolled, trying to stay off my elbow, and kicked again. The side of my hiking shoes hit his nose and blood splattered all over me.

  Panicked sobs locked in my chest over and over as I crab-walked back from him, kicking out hard every time he got close. I hit his shoulder, his hand… I heard the crack of his fingers and this time, my cries couldn’t be contained. Tears streamed down my face, blurring my vision and I choked on the sobs that punched like fists into my throat.

  It didn’t matter what I did.

  His anger or his evil or whatever they’d soaked into him so thoroughly blocked out everything but his desire to hurt the thing in front of him. His entire life had become a battle for survival. Kill or be killed. He only saw enemy and every single time I hit or kicked him, my heart shredded more.

  When the top of my head brushed the wall, I could go no farther, so I rolled fast and hard, ignoring the pain in my elbow and in my leg and rib. I swallowed back all of that and just focused on getting away from him. I made it to the wall with the chains before he was on me again. He slammed me onto my back and sat on my stomach, his hands once again going around my throat. Air cut off, the pressure behind my eyes growing, I clawed and bucked. When I threw my arms out, I touched the coolness of metal. One of his chains. Frantic, I inched my hand down until I could get a good enough swing.

  The chain slammed into the side of his head. His eyes closed, he fell off me and staggered to his feet. He lurched side to side for a moment before staying in place. Swaying.

  I stood, sobbing, hurting, and watched blood drip down the sides of his face and down onto his shoulders and chest. He stared at me and I caught something, something that clicked inside me. A hint of something, a memory. It passed over his face like a flash of light.

  “No,” I whispered. “We are not doing this. This is not us.”

  I ran at him, jumped and wrapped my arms and legs around him as tight as I could. Putting my mouth to his ear, I whispered over and over, even as he tried to pry me off with his weakened hands.

  “Remember me. Remember me. Remember me.”

  I didn’t let up on my chant, even as he wrapped hands around my hips, dug in his fingers and pulled har
d. I tightened my arms and my legs, kissed his ear and kept repeating those words over and over. Then I said, “Remember this? This is me, Beri, loving you.”

  Nikolos staggered to the side, his hand going out to catch himself on a wall, his other hand pulling on my broken arm. My scream of agony made him go still. Then he grabbed me with strong hands and flung me to the ground. He stood there, chest heaving as he breathed, blood dripping down his face and again, I saw a flash of something. This time, black showed briefly before his eyes bled back to red. He reached up to wipe the blood from his eyes, took a menacing step toward me.

  “Nikolos, please,” I whispered, looking at him with all the anguish I felt for him, all the fear that I’d taken too long to get here, all the love that had somehow built into this powerful burst of belonging. I belonged to him.

  “And you belong to me,” I said out loud. “Remember? Me, Beri, loving you.”

  The red faded from his eyes, replaced by horror. He paled and fell to his knees.

  “Beri?”

  I sucked air into my aching lungs, nodding at him, trying to smile, but unable to make my face work around the damned sobs I couldn’t stop.

  The blood from his head wound flowed hard and fast, and he slumped forward, his hand reaching for me as his eyes turned red and rolled back. I caught him and turned him gently to his back before frantically feeling for a pulse. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “Head wounds bleed a lot.” I spoke aloud for my own benefit because he couldn’t hear me. “I remember that from school.”

  I needed to stop the flow of his blood, so I hurriedly worked open the fastenings to my stupid medieval costume. The hood, large and roomy and still kind of clean on the inside, would work. I ripped it off the top, noting that the audience above me had gone silent again. I didn’t give a shit about them seeing me like this, but I slid the mangled top back on and held the wadded-up hood to his head.