The Volatile Amazon

by Sandy James

  The second newcomer didn’t speak as he moved to Ian’s side, helping cull the revenants.

  “Where is my niece?” Freyjr asked.

  “She’s in the bunker with the kids,” Gina replied.

  “Then I shall see to the young ones so that Megan may assist you,” he announced before he disappeared again.

  Despite the burning of his muscles and the sweat pouring from his body, Ian kept at his task, even though despair at ending this fight crept into his thoughts. How could so few defeat so many?

  Slowly, painfully, the zombies fell.

  “Fucking revenants!” Megan shouted as she ran from the lodge. “Go back to hell!”

  With nothing but swipes of her arm, she sent the revenants flying into the fires that were consuming the two cabins, turning them into funeral pyres. Her movements were labored but effective, and she guarded her left side as though she had a few cracked ribs.

  The acrid smell of burning flesh washed over Ian, sending agonizing memories ripping through his thoughts. With great effort, he shoved those memories aside and focused on his task.

  Finally between Megan’s assistance and the fighting skills of the Rebecca and the men, the last of the revenants perished.

  Ian hurried back to Sarita, who was at least sitting up now. Her hair had shifted back to black and color had returned to her cheeks, but she was more asleep than awake. She and Gina sat next to the dead changelings, and Rebecca and Megan soon knelt at their sides. Rebecca gathered Dolan into her arms and rocked him as Gina stroked Beagan’s hair.

  Every Amazon had tears in her eyes, and the somber expressions on the Sentinels’ faces as they drew near spoke of their loss. Richard and Jory hung back for a few moments before Richard inclined his head toward the lodge and the two headed that direction.

  “There wasn’t anything you could do?” Megan asked Sarita.

  “I tried.” Sarita took a ragged sigh. “I did—I tried. I’m so sorry. I failed them. I failed you all.”

  “No one’s blaming you,” Gina replied. “It’s Helen’s fault they’re dead.”

  “This whole fucking thing is Helen’s fault!” Sparks shot from Megan’s hair and fingers. “I’m going to kill her. Slowly and painfully.” When she tried to get up, she winced and held tight to her left side.

  Johann helped her to stand. “Broken ribs?”

  “Probably just cracked, ’cause I can breathe. I don’t care, though. I’m going after that bitch.”

  “I can heal you,” Sarita offered.

  Ian shook his head at Johann, hoping the Sentinel would understand how drained Sarita was.

  “It’s okay, Sarita,” Johann said, “I’ll get Megan fixed up. We’ll wrap her middle good and tight and she can get some sleep.”

  “Are you sure?” Sarita asked.

  “I’m sure. Megan, you’re going to have to suffer through someone caring for you. For once.”

  Megan opened her mouth as if to argue, then gave her husband a brusque nod. “I’ll get rested up so I can kill Helen.”

  Rebecca laid Dolan on the grass, got to her feet and glared down at Megan. “The hell you will! She killed the changelings! She’s mine, and I’m going to make her suffer before she dies.” With a sob, she threw herself into Artair’s arms.

  Artair stroked her braid. “I’m so sorry, Becca mine.”

  Zach plopped down beside Gina and held her hand.

  “How’s your head?” she asked.

  “Hurts like hell,” he replied. “That climbing tower is mighty hard on a skull.”

  “You might have a concussion. I’ll have to keep an eye on you for a while.”

  “Says the woman who was just stabbed in the gut.” He leaned in to kiss her before tossing Sarita a lopsided smile. “Thank you for healing my wife.”

  Sarita nodded then scrubbed the tears away from her cheeks with the back of her hand.

  “Let’s go see the bairns,” Artair suggested, holding his wife as she cried.

  After a few minutes, Rebecca pulled herself together enough to dry her eyes with his plaid. “I need to see my babies. Oh, God, Artair... How can I tell them about—about—”

  “We’ll find the words,” he reassured.

  They walked back toward the lodge, Artair’s arm draped over her shoulder as she leaned against him.

  “Sarita should rest,” Ian said. He scanned the compound. “I shall take her home, then I’ll return to help with this mess.”

  “We’ll have to bury Beagan and Dolan.” Johann’s voice was as harsh as the winter wind.

  “Aye,” Ian replied. “I’ll help see to the task once I get my wife settled.”

  Calling Sarita his wife seemed a bit unusual, but he’d learned to love it. He made a silent vow to do whatever he could to help her and her sisters win the day so he could spend many years with Sarita at his side.

  “All the women will rest,” Johann ordered. “Whether they want to or not. This fight isn’t over. Not by a long shot.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sparse sunlight spilled through the window when Sarita awakened, and she had no idea how long she’d been asleep. Was it dawn or dusk?

  After healing Gina, she’d been amazed she could keep her eyes open long enough to watch the end of the fight. Death had been hovering, but Gina’s spirit remained in her body. Had Sarita waited much longer, she could have lost her sister.

  A chill raced over her skin, forcing a shudder.

  Ian stopped his soft snore and pulled her tighter against him. “Are you cold, lass?”

  Sarita shook her head and settled her cheek against his shoulder, grateful to have his embrace drive away her fears.

  When she’d been a child, she’d suffered from nightmares—especially one that recurred far too often. In those dreams, a bolt of lightning struck her, fracturing her body as though she’d been drawn and quartered in days of old. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t pull herself back together, and she knew she’d die if she couldn’t reconnect her severed parts. It wasn’t gruesome—there was no blood. But the pain was so real, so agonizing, she often awakened with her own scream echoing in her ears. Lalita came after each nightmare to soothe Sarita with gentle words and warm hugs.

  And Sarita had repaid her by lopping off her head.

  That wasn’t Lalita.

  Her heart refused to listen.

  “What time is it?” Sarita asked, trying to divert her morbid thoughts.

  “I’d say close to dawn.”

  Dawn of what day? Amazons slept when they needed to heal and recharge after a fight, sometimes for several days. “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Since dawn yesterday.”

  Her other sorrow hit. Hard. “I couldn’t help Beagan and Dolan.”

  Ian gave Sarita a squeeze. “It wasn’t your fault, loving.”

  “It was. I saved you. I saved Gina. Why couldn’t I save them?”

  “Because it was their time.” His deep, calm voice was soothing. “Donnae fash yourself. You tried your best.”

  “But—”

  His hug was fierce. “You cannae save everyone. Accept it. Do good when you can and let the Fates take care of the rest. Who were the men Freyjr brought with him?”

  “Not very subtle at changing the topic, are you?”

  She loved the way his chest rumbled when he laughed.

  “How much do you know about the Ancients?” she asked. While it was clear Helen had given Ian quite a bit of knowledge about both the modern and magical worlds, Sarita would have a hard time explaining if certain facts were lacking.

  “All gods and goddesses from every culture exist. They share power so none has too much.”

  “Do you know who Gaia is?”

  “She’s
the mother of the universe,” he replied, “and Helen and Rebecca’s mother.”

  This wouldn’t be so hard after all. “Richard and Jory are Gaia’s sons. She has lots of kids. Hundreds—maybe thousands. Ganga said she can give birth every day if she wants—the normal rules don’t apply to her. The girls sometimes become Earth Amazons, but she’s afraid of her sons.”

  “Why?”

  “They’re demigods.”

  “So?”

  “Demigods have a nasty habit of trying to kill their parents. Gaia keeps them corralled on an island. They have everything they want or need.”

  “Except freedom, aye?”

  “Exactly. If they leave the island, they can only live a day or so. They hate being prisoners in a gilded cage,” Sarita replied. “They get pretty restless.”

  “Then how do the Amazons know about the sons of Gaia if they donnae live in the mortal world?” Ian asked.

  “Richard was their leader. He wanted something more from life and called for help to escape. Freyjr stuck his nose into it and answered them. He set them up in an enchanted house where he could party with them.”

  “Freyjr.” Ian grunted. “Imagine that.”

  “You know, he’s really not a bad guy,” Sarita insisted. “He’s helped us more than the men want to admit. Even my sisters tolerate him since he lends a hand sometimes.”

  “He kissed you.”

  “It was his version of a payment for giving me Seior. Knowing Freyjr, he wanted to get a rise out of you.” She brushed a kiss on his chest. “Let it go, Ian. I love you. Remember?”

  “I love you too. Do these sons of Gaia still live in Freyjr’s mansion?

  “Not now. When they were there they couldn’t leave. They needed magical protection. But at least living in Freyjr’s bachelor pad was closer to a real life.”

  “Then they’re back on the island now?”

  She nodded against his shoulder. “They’re being punished since several started following the goddess Sekhmet and tried to help her destroy the world. Have you heard of her?”

  “Och, aye. Egyptian. Helen brags about destroying her. Then she rants and raves about you helping Gina and Zach get away.”

  “Helen didn’t destroy her. Zach and Gina locked her back in her tomb.”

  With my help.

  Just thinking about how she’d frozen Helen in a block of ice made Sarita smile. “Gaia put all her sons back on the island after that. Freyjr’s one of the few gods strong enough to protect them when they’re off the island.”

  “Why don’t they just leave?”

  “They’ll die in a few days. Unless...” Perhaps she was telling too much.

  Ian prodded her. “Unless what?”

  “Freya felt sorry for them and fixed it so they can stay alive if they drink magical blood every now and then.”

  Ian sat up on his elbow to glare down at her. “Magical blood? As in your magical blood? They’re vampires?” He shook his head. “I’ll nae allow that, wife.”

  He was jealous, and while she should soothe him, all she could do was smile.

  Ian really did love her.

  “They’re not really vampires. Real vampires are disgusting. They’re like rats.” She shuddered for effect. “The SOGs—”

  “SOGs?”

  “Our nickname for the Sons of Gaia,” she replied. “SOGs just need a little magical sustenance. Gina usually takes care of them. She and Richard are very close. He used to have a thing for her until she met Zach. There’s a bit of friction between them.”

  Throwing aside the silk sheet, he crawled out of bed. “Zach shouldnae allow it.”

  “Did—did you bury the changelings?”

  “You’re nae subtle about changing topics, either.” He stroked her cheek. “Nay. Rebecca wanted to wait for their burial until you could all be there. Gina and Megan have been sleeping as well.” After he brushed a quick kiss on her lips, he said, “I’m going to take a shower. Then we can go for breakfast.”

  Who would cook?

  Beagan and Dolan had handled most of the food in Avalon. Sure, Rebecca liked to cook, and she often made meals for her family. But Amazons were too busy to be domesticated. They’d always relied on the changelings for so much. Everyone in Avalon was able to do their jobs because they could always count on Beagan and Dolan to take care of them.

  The children had to be devastated.

  Sarita held back her tears until she was sure Ian couldn’t hear.

  * * *

  Ian knocked on the front door, hoping he wasn’t disturbing Rebecca. The woman had to be exhausted.

  She’d been running around like a woman possessed, making arrangements for the changelings burial, cooking, caring for the children. She refused to accept help from any of the men, no matter how they all tried to lend a hand or give her comfort.

  Perhaps she needed to work through her grief.

  “We never knock,” Sarita said. She opened the door and walked in. “Bonnie! Darian! Aunt Sarita’s here!”

  “They’re not here right now,” Rebecca called. “I’m in the kitchen. Come get some breakfast.”

  “You cooked?” Sarita grabbed Ian’s hand and dragged him through the house.

  Rebecca plucked delicious smelling biscuits from the oven, dumped them in a big bowl and set them on the table. “Someone has to feed this brood now that—” She shook her head and hurried back to the stove.

  Sarita went to her and rubbed her back. “I’m sorry, Rebecca. I should have... I’m sorry.”

  Although Ian wanted to reassure Sarita—again—that the changelings’ deaths hadn’t been her fault, she’d be more likely to believe it if she heard it from the other Amazons.

  Rebecca spun around and embraced Sarita. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Where are the bairns?” Ian asked.

  “They’ve already eaten.” Rebecca smiled at Sarita, brushed away her tears and went back to cooking. “They went outside with their father.”

  Artair came in through the kitchen door and kissed his wife.

  “The kids are okay?” she asked.

  “Aye. Richard was going to help Bonnie with her bow, and Darian took his wooden sword to spar with Jory.”

  “Anyone home?” Gina shouted.

  “In the kitchen!” Sarita called back.

  Gina and Zach no sooner got settled when Megan and Johann arrived. Since Rebecca had piled enough eggs, bacon and pancakes on the kitchen table to feed an army before a battle, no one went hungry. Only when the meal ended did the idle chit-chat shift to serious topics.

  “We shall bury Beagan and Dolan at sunset,” Artair announced. “They shall lie next to Sparks.”

  “She’d like that,” Megan said, swallowing hard.

  “Will the goddesses come?” Gina asked.

  “Doubt it,” Megan replied. “My mother was pretty adamant that they’re not allowed to help us.”

  Zach frowned. “Coming to Avalon to pay their respects to the changelings isn’t helping. I can’t imagine Rhiannon staying away. She loved them so much.”

  “You always take her side!” Rebecca snapped. “She doesn’t love anyone, Zach. Not even Beagan and Dolan!” She jumped up and grabbed a nearly empty platter. It shattered when she slammed it into the sink. “Damn her. She could have saved them.”

  Artair went to her. “The goddesses—even Rhiannon—cannae stop all bad things, sweeting.”

  She didn’t acknowledge him as she attacked the pile of dirty dishes.

  With no warning, Freyjr popped into the kitchen, impeccably dressed and clearly full of himself. “How are you all this fine morning?” The god’s gaze settled on Sarita, and a smile bowed his lips. “You are awake, little one. Are you well now? Have you recovered from battle?”
r />   “I’m fine, Freyjr,” she drawled. “Thanks for asking.”

  Ian grabbed Sarita’s hand and squeezed it, not caring if he revealed his jealousy.

  Freyjr arched an eyebrow at him. “Have I caused you worry, Darian MacKay?” He chuckled. “Ah, Sarita...I see your husband still worries you will stray. Perhaps because he realizes I will always welcome your attentions and can give you pleasure beyond what he—”

  “What do you want, Freyjr?” Johann interrupted, draping his arm around Megan’s shoulder.

  The possessive action eased Ian’s mind. He wasn’t the only one who didn’t trust Freyjr around his woman.

  “I came with a gift.” Freyjr extended his hand to Sarita. “For you, little one.”

  “She doesnnae need another gift from you,” Ian said.

  “Ah, but this gift is for her, not you. She should decide whether to accept.”

  Sarita cocked her head. “Why would you give me another gift?”

  “I have my reasons. Shall we simply say I am fond of this world and wish to help it survive? I merely offer a gift to a woman I admire.” He fixed his eyes back on Sarita. “A beautiful woman, despite the flaws.”

  “She isnae flawed,” Ian said through gritted teeth.

  Sarita squeezed Ian’s hand but kept her eyes on Freyjr. “What’s this one gonna cost me?”

  His manicured hand settled on his chest. “Are you questioning my motives?”

  She snorted a laugh. “I’d be stupid not to.”

  Freyjr’s hand dropped away, and he grinned. “Touché, Sarita. This is truly a gift and bears no price. I give it in celebration of your marriage.”

  Artair left his wife to stand between Freyjr and the others. “What is it you wish to give her?”

  If Freyjr took offense to the protective stance, it didn’t show in his expression. “I wish to give her the sight.”

  The sight—an ability to see glimpses of the future. Not a gift Ian wanted Sarita to receive. Helen had carried on and on about wishing she had the sight. She wanted to be able to know what the Amazons were up to so she could stay a step ahead of them. Her hatred of them—especially Sarita and Rebecca—had become an obsession.