Mills & Boon : Seducing The Jackal

by Glass, Seressia

  Chapter Nine

  A twisting, reality-bending scream of a ride later, and the portal spit Tia back onto solid ground. She scrambled across low grass on her hands and knees to put some distance between herself and the Lost Ones, her mind grappling with the knowledge that she’d just been transported through a slice of the Underworld. Her body struggled to shake off the effects of inter-dimensional travel. More nauseating than the most extreme amusement park ride, the journey was one she never wanted to repeat.

  She wiped her mouth with the edge of her shirt then climbed to her feet. Lost Ones crowded around her, hemming her in and blocking her view, her escape. Bile rose again as she fought down her terror. Though she’d been trained to defend against them her entire life, she’d never seen a Lost One in person. The reality was far worse than anything she could have imagined, worse than the fascinating yet macabre beauty of mummies she’d seen in museums.

  These...things stank of death and decay and evil, their movements like the bare skritch-skritch of insects moving through dead leaves. They were dried-out imitations of people, leatherlike skin pulled back from pointed teeth and fingernails, rotted fabric hanging by threads.

  She turned away from the horrifying sight, only to notice the familiar surroundings. Shock raced through her as she took in the ring of hardy palm trees ranged around a large circle of golden sand with a large golden ankh embedded in the center. This was the sacred space of the Daughters of Isis. This was home.

  “No,” she whispered, her vision blurring. “Please, Mother Isis, no.”

  “Do you really think she’ll help you now, when I can smell the stink of jackal all over you?” a harsh female voice asked. “Never did I think I’d live to see the day when a Daughter of Isis again became a jackal’s chew toy.”

  Tia turned with a gasp. Dread gave way to small relief as she realized the woman was not her grandmother. The woman was stunning in a cruelly pretty way, her dark hair falling in a straight sheet. She dressed in the ancient attire of an Isis priestess, the long white gown belted and collared with gold. Where the Daughters of Isis wore the symbol of life the proper way, this pseudo priestess wore the ankh inverted.

  Relief gave way to anger. Tia balled her fists, furious that this witch had made her think, even for a moment, that Aya had betrayed the Daughters of Isis. “Look who’s talking, whoever you are,” she said, lifting her chin in defiance. “You smell like the undead and you look like a low-rent version of a Daughter of Isis. You profane your calling by siding with these undead, and for what? Did the high priestess throw you out of the temple?”

  Anger contorted the woman’s features. “I should have been the most high priestess of Isis instead of Asharet! I should have led the alliance with Sekhanu. That power and glory should have been mine!”

  “So pitting the Sons and Daughters against each other for four thousand years was all because you were jealous?” Tia asked, incredulous. “That seems so...small.”

  “You dare?” the woman screeched.

  “You damn right I dare!” Tia shot back, ignoring the way the Lost Ones rustled like dried leaves around her. “You killed my grandmother’s parents out of spite for what they had!”

  “Enough! Grab her!”

  Lost Ones reached out with their bony hands, holding Tia fast with superhuman strength. The witch gripped Tia’s jaw, fingernails digging deep into her skin. “Behold the seventh Daughter of a seventh Daughter, descended from the great Asharet. So full of promise at your birth, so fully a disappointment now. I had thought to break Aya’s spirit by leaving your broken body in her precious circle, but I doubt you will be worth the effort. You are far too weak to matter.”

  Tia’s anger erupted into white-hot fury. “I am not weak!”

  Growling her rage, Tia head-butted the rebel witch, forehead connecting with nose. The pain that erupted was matched by the satisfaction of hearing the other woman scream and stumble back. She struggled against the undead holding her fast, managing to wrench her right arm free. “Let go of me!”

  Fury gave way to surprise as the Lost Ones immediately released her. The rebel witch shrieked through blood-drenched fingers cupping her broken nose. Her free hand reached for a wicked-looking dagger at her waist. “I will not let you take control of my Lost Ones! You’re going to pay for this!”

  The undead advanced on her. Tia backed away, frantically looking for a weapon. Her gaze fell onto the circle, the shimmering haze of power there. “Mother Isis, live in me!”

  Magic flooded the circle, then shot upward in a shaft of gilded light. Tia stretched out a hand as light coalesced into a golden staff. She grabbed it, the weight of power almost knocking her to her knees. Grunting with effort, she managed to spin it around in time to block the other witch’s downward stab.

  The collision of power knocked them both back several steps. Calling on her flag corps training, Tia spun the staff overhead then swept it down in a wide circle. Every undead creature she made contact with disintegrated. They backed off, and she whirled to face the other woman, ready to pummel her into the ground.

  “Hold.”

  Power rolled over them, immobilizing the Lost Ones in midstep. The rebel witch froze in midstrike, her face a mask of fury. Tia, still brimming with the sacred circle’s magic, lowered her staff and turned to see her grandmother leading a column of Daughters and Elder Sisters down the stone path from the compound to the circle’s sacred space. Aya, carrying the gilded staff of leadership and resplendent in her ceremonial robes and headdress as the embodiment of Isis, fairly crackled with power as she took in the scene.

  “Daughters to the circle,” Aya ordered. “Defend our sacred space!”

  The priestesses quickly moved onto the circular patch of consecrated sand. Power rose as they joined hands and began to chant.

  “She’s the one, grandmother,” Tia called out, pointing one end of the staff at the renegade witch. “She’s the one responsible for Asharet and Sekhanu’s deaths. She’s controlling the Lost Ones!”

  “Amansuanan. Behold our sister, long-thought dead to us.” Aya stepped between them. “How far you have fallen.”

  “Don’t condescend to me, girl,” the priestess spat blood as she regained control of herself. The remaining undead stirred like dust disturbed by a stagnant breeze. “I should have been high priestess after Asharet. Instead, the Daughters chose a child barely out of swaddling to lead them. That spot belongs to me.”

  “Leading the Daughters was never your path, Amansuanan,” Aya told her. “My mother knew you had neither the heart nor the mind for it. And your betrayal proved her right.”

  Hatred contorted the other woman’s features. “If I cannot lead the Daughters, I will destroy them!”

  Tiny hairs stood up along Tia’s arms as Amansuanan threw her hand out. Reality tore again, and more of the undead skittered into existence. Dozens headed for the Daughters in the circle, the remainder turning to defend Amansuanan.

  “Grandmother!” Tia swung her staff, driving back the Lost Ones who would have attacked Aya, clearing a swath of ground.

  “Deal with the Lost Ones. I will attend to our lost sister.”

  “By myself?” Tia asked, surprised.

  “You were doing fine before I got here,” her grandmother said, her power making her staff glow. “Start swinging, head or heart. I’ll deal with the traitor.”

  Tia started swinging. Undead burst like dried piñatas as the staff contacted their desiccated flesh, blows
to the heart or severing the head. Bile rose in her throat, but she tamped it down and twirled the staff, ignoring the lactic acid burn in her biceps. The more undead she felled, more took their place. In the midst of fighting for her life, she wished for Markus and the Sons of Anubis. The Daughters hadn’t been in a battle like this in decades at least. The Sons had probably fought Lost Ones before breakfast.

  Fatigue or carelessness, she wasn’t sure, but somehow she tripped over a severed limb. She fell hard, the luminous staff vanishing as it left her hand. Lost Ones swarmed closer. Fear hammered in her chest as she realized her odds of survival had dropped into single digits.

  Howling split the air. A massive dark shadow blotted the light above her then landed beside her, causing the ground to tremble. A scream boiled up her throat before she realized that it wasn’t a shadow at all, but a half-man, half-jackal giant holding a wickedly curved sword in one claw. “Holy Anubis.”

  No, not Anubis. Markus, resplendent and awe inspiring in his glossy black Anubis form, had brought his jackals to the fight. Snarling, he swung his sword in a deadly dance, dusting more than a dozen Lost Ones with an economy of swings.

  He was absolutely magnificent, standing protectively between her and the undead. Seeing his raw masculine energy in action caused the primitive feminine part of her mind to send a bolt of lust shooting through her. Gods, how she wanted him!

  A flood of sleek dark shapes spilled down the steep incline, leaping onto the Lost Ones. Markus helped her to her feet, careful of his strength. Sounds of battle faded as she looked up into his fathomless amber eyes. “Markus, I—”

  “Who hurt you?”

  “What?”

  His voice rumbled low like two massive stones grinding together. “You’re bleeding. Who did this?”

  She touched her forehead, looked at the blood on her fingertips. “Oh. I head-butted the wicked witch.”

  Pointed ears twitched, and she wondered if he wanted to smile. It was hard to tell with the muzzle and the bared teeth.

  One of the Daughters screamed. “Jackals!”

  Crap. Buoyed by the presence of the jackals, Tia cut a swath through the mass of Lost Ones to the circle of witches. Power rose over them like a dome, sending out bolts of magical energy that pierced the undead in puffs of dust. Jackals darted through the remaining creatures, making short work of the enemy. Now, however, the Daughters in the circle focused on the jackals, fear evident on their faces.

  “Attack the jackals!” One of the witches, Cassandra, pointed her staff toward a small knot of jackals that had placed themselves between the Daughters and the undead.

  “Don’t you dare throw a spell at the jackals,” Tia yelled at them, spreading her arms as she stood between the Daughters and the Sons. “They’re here to help!”

  “You expect us to believe that?”

  “You see a former Daughter at the head of an undead army and you still want to doubt the jackals? Are you really that blinded by hatred?”

  “Maybe you’re working with them,” the witch said. “Who knows what happened over the past two days you’ve been with them?”

  Tia froze. “Aya is the only one who knows that. Did you listen to my conversation with my grandmother? Is that how Amansuanan knew to abduct me from my house?”

  The circle of power wavered as the Daughters close to Cassandra dropped their hands. “So what if I did?” Cassandra asked, defiant and accusing. “Aya’s faith in you is misplaced, but she wouldn’t listen to me. And now you consort with jackals. Look at how they flock to you!”

  Tia knew the jackals stood at her back. She felt Markus just behind her, the comforting wall of his magical and physical strength wrapping about her. “Yes, take a good long look, all of you. Look at how the jackals came to our aid, not knowing how they’d be received. Look at how they placed themselves between you and the undead. Look at their actions, though a Daughter of Isis cursed a number of their people. Look, and know how honorable they have been. I’m proud to stand with them.”

  The rest of the Daughters stepped away from Cassandra. Markus strode forward until he stood at Tia’s shoulder. In his Anubis form, Markus was beyond impressive, well over eight feet tall, the black of his hide gleaming in the dim light. His pointed ears flattened as he roared a challenge.

  Realizing she no longer had support, Cassandra turned tail and ran, heading toward Amansuanan. The renegade witch, scraped and bloodied from her bout with Aya, opened a portal to escape and ran through, Cassandra and the last few Lost Ones following.

  The portal slammed closed. Silence fell, thick and immediate. Whether by accident or design, Daughters stood on one side of the circle while the Sons ranged along the other. Each camp stared at the other with equal expressions of mistrust.

  Tia turned to Markus, still in his Anubis form. “You came for me.”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  “How did you find me? How did you even know to look?”

  “I left two of my men to watch over you. When they reported that you’d been taken, we used the GPS in your phone to find you.”

  Of course he’d hacked her phone. She wouldn’t have expected less. “Thank you. Thank you for showing up when you did.”

  Aya took that moment to join Tia and Markus in the center of the two camps. Though she was a grandmother and four millennia old, bathed in power she seemed no more than forty. “Tonight we have seen the true face of our enemy,” she said, her voice ringing in the quiet. “There is no doubt that the threat is very real and very personal for all of us.”

  She looked at each one of the Daughters. “We have lost Cassandra, just as we lost Amansuanan centuries ago. I would not have us lose another of our sisters because of our misplaced distrust of the Sons of Anubis. It is time for us to set aside centuries of animosity and discord and return to our heritage, our calling, of working together.”

  A murmur rose over the throng. Markus folded his arms across his chest. “The Sons of Anubis will hold to our heritage and to our calling. We will work with the Daughters of Isis—through Tia.”

  Though Markus towered over all of them, Aya stared at him with equanimity. “Our sister Tia has proven that jackals and witches can cast magic together for the greater good. We would do well to follow in her steps. So let it be done.”

  A tense silence followed, then the Elder Sisters spoke as one. “So let it be done.”

  Aya turned to Tia, her eyes glowing with her power. “It will take some time for us to forget our version of the past. I will count on you to help the Daughters cross this bridge.”

  “Yes, High Priestess,” Tia answered.

  “Tia belongs to us,” Markus declared as he stepped forward. He looped an arm around her shoulders, dragging her close.

  Aya didn’t seem surprised by the declaration, but Tia sure was. “What?”

  Markus-Anubis stared at Aya. “I claim her for my clan and for myself.”

  “And if the Daughters say you cannot have her?” The high priestess returned his glare with power-filled eyes. “She will lead this circle one day. She belongs to the Daughters of Isis.”

  Markus growled in warning. “She is ours. We won’t give her up without a fight.”

  “I’m not a trophy to be passed around,” Tia protested even as her heart sang. Markus’s claim was what she had wanted to hear, just not the way she had wanted to hear it. “I decide my own way.”

  “I know you’re not a trophy.” He looked down at her with unfathomable
eyes. “You are a woman, a good heart, a gentle soul, a fierce spirit. You are a Daughter of Isis, and we would not ask you to give that up when that is what saved us.”

  He gathered her hands in his own. “You stood before your sisters and defended us and our honor. To the Children of Anubis you are a blessing and a gift, and it will be hard for us not to put you on a pedestal like a trophy.”

  “What about you?” she asked, her voice soft. “You said you claimed me for yourself as well as the clan. What am I to you?”

  “You want to know what you are to me?” A golden glow surrounded him, then he stood before her in his natural form. “You are the fulfillment of a wish I didn’t dare make. A need I denied I had. A hunger I thought would never be sated. Everything I could ever ask for.”

  He pulled her close. “I don’t know the future, so I can’t say where we’ll be a year, a decade, or a century from now. What I do know is that I have never felt so great a rage or fear as when you fell among those Lost Ones. I think my heart actually seized.”

  “I’m sorry you were worried,” she whispered, awed by the emotion she heard in his voice.

  “I don’t know if this is love, Tia,” he told her. “I haven’t had the luxury of experiencing that emotion. But I’m willing to find out. I’m willing to learn, if you’re willing to teach me. Say you’ll give us the chance. Say you’ll be with me.”

  Warmth filled Tia’s chest, a sense of rightness and purpose that was undeniable. “Yes, Markus. I’ll be with you.” She grinned. “I might even be able to teach you a thing or two about love and other matters.”

  He tightened his grip, though some of the tension left his expression. “If you say something about an old dog and learning new tricks, I’ll be forced to bring you home and take you to bed until you beg for forgiveness.”

  She twined her arms about his neck. “We should do that anyway.”

  A soft cough snagged their attention. Tia stepped back, acutely aware of their audience. Aya gave her a knowing smile as she placed her hands atop theirs. “Blessed of Isis, blessed of Anubis. Joined together, a blessing for Sons and Daughters. So let it be done.”