by Sandy James
He didn’t let her play for long. Without a word, he hauled her to her feet and kissed her long and deep. They fell to the bed together, her back pressed against the blanket as Ian roughly pushed her thighs apart. “I need you now, wife.”
“I’m yours, jaanu.”
He entered her body as his tongue thrust into her mouth. She gasped against his lips, loving the fierceness, needing to feel alive.
The ride was fast and rough and exactly what she wanted. She let all her worries go and drowned in the sensations. His tongue caressing hers. The crispy hair on his chest rubbing her nipples. The length of his cock sliding almost out before thrusting deep again and again.
The familiar tightness of approaching release swelled and then burst inside her, showering her in bliss. Ian’s harsh grunt in her ear made her smile and sent an aftershock to her core. His pleasure was her pleasure.
Rising on his elbows, he stared into her eyes. “Each time is heaven.”
She smiled up at him, smoothing his tangled hair away from his face. “Aye. ’tis wonderful.” The more she imitated his brogue, the better she got at rolling her Rs.
“Do ye think we made a baby tonight?”
A baby?
Had the passion they shared created a new life?
While she would welcome a child—especially one created with the man she loved—she wouldn’t let herself think beyond the battle that was to come.
* * *
Ian couldn’t find the words to explain all he was feeling. He was supposed to be the warrior heading off to battle. Instead, his woman—his wife—would risk her life.
That notion didn’t sit well.
He’d heard married men talk about their ferocious need to plant a seed in their wives’ wombs the eve before a fight. He’d never understood why until now. Foolish though he was, considering the woman who was to bear that seed would face death, he wanted to make a child with Sarita.
Her quick dismissal of his question spoke volumes. The topic would be dropped, but that didn’t mean his heart wasn’t pining to know if their lovemaking had created a new life.
He squeezed her tighter.
Their time would come.
Chapter Thirty
Sarita had never liked heights, so she resisted the urge to look over the side of Gina’s tower.
Ix Chel had gifted Gina with a place that was high enough to please Air and where she could always see the stars and the moon. Magicks kept clouds from forming over the tower’s platform.
Four Amazons and their patron goddesses stood together, ready to do something that had never been done before.
The time had come to create a force of good that could challenge an Ancient.
No wonder the other gods and goddesses gave the patronesses so much gruff. They were preparing to endow four women with the ability to destroy one of their kind.
“Sarita,” Rebecca said. “We’re ready.”
Sarita stepped up to stand at Gina’s side.
Rhiannon was running the show. “’Tis time.” She beckoned to the rest of them.
Each goddess guided her Amazon until the four women stood in a square, facing each other. The patronesses stayed behind them, hands gripping the Amazons’ shoulders.
Damn, but the goddesses were tall, especially Rhiannon.
What an odd little group. Four Amazons dressed in workout clothing, comfortable and loose. Four goddesses—two in medieval gowns and two in the dress of their cultures—all standing atop a large metal tower in the middle of the woods.
The platform was covered in pillows that had been strategically placed for when the three Amazons collapsed as they surrendered their spirits into Sarita.
Swallowing hard, she hoped she was worthy of their trust. Once their powers were inside her, she had no idea how they could work as one. They were so different—and so very stubborn—linking them couldn’t be an easy task.
Rhiannon took a deep breath and began. “You must join hands.”
Although Sarita found herself between Megan and Rebecca, she had no desire to switch places. Gina stood opposite her, and those brown eyes stared back with a determination that was every bit as strong as if they were holding hands.
“We call the four corners,” Rhiannon said.
“We call the four corners,” the other goddesses echoed.
“We call the four corners to make these women stronger.” Rhiannon’s tone was solemn. Determined.
Thunder rumbled in the distance as storm clouds gathered, pressing in but leaving a piece of clear sky open above the tower.
“Air for the North corner,” Ix Chel said.
Lightning flashed, followed by a clap of thunder, louder than the one before.
“Fire for the East corner.” Freya squeezed her daughter’s shoulders.
A bolt of lightning struck one of the tallest trees, the rolling sound of thunder followed closely by the crackling of a fire.
Ganga’s voice came from behind Sarita. “Water for the South corner.”
Sheets of rain began to fall from the clouds, but the platform stayed dry. Walls of rain bordered each side, yet all on the tower remained untouched.
“Earth for the West corner.” Rhiannon’s voice had risen to a near shout. “These women—these warriors—are the watchtowers, and they pledge themselves to become one force, one spirit, one will. Rebecca MacKay do you surrender your spirit to the vessel?”
“I do.”
“Gina Hanson,” Ix Chel asked, her voice raised against the din, “do you surrender your spirit to the vessel?”
“I do.”
“Megan Herrmann, do you surrender your spirit to the vessel?” Freya’s voice quivered, yet she was loud enough to be heard.
“I do.”
Ganga leaned close to brush a kiss over Sarita’s cheek. Then she straightened and held tight to Sarita’s arms. “Sarita MacKay, do you wish to become the vessel of the watchtowers?”
The full implication of what she was agreeing to hit. Hard. Her sisters’ lives would literally be in her hands—the hands that had once belonged to the weakest Amazon.
“Sarita?”
I’m not weak. I’m strong—because they love me.
“I wish to become the vessel of the watchtowers.”
Lightning sizzled from the clear sky, forming a circle as it whirled around and around before slamming into the platform. The heat swept over Sarita, knocking her to her knees as the sound of the thunder roared loud enough to make her ears ring. Her vision blurred, but she was aware of her sisters collapsing as the goddesses disappeared.
Her heart slammed against her ribcage and she struggled to catch her breath. Each time she tried to pull air into her lungs, it was as if she’d sucked in acid. Her throat burned, feeling thick and clogged. She gasped, clutching at the neck of her shirt, trying to tug it loose.
No air. There’s no air!
She fell forward, not able to stop the tumble with her hands. Her nose slammed into the wooden platform, making lights dot her vision. She rolled to her back, staring up at the surreal clouds, allowing a perfect square of clear sky to remain above her. Suddenly, four bright bursts of light appeared on the corners, each a different color. Green, red, white and blue.
Twinkling like stars, the corners drifted to the center, stopping short of touching. Then they shot down to slam into Sarita’s chest.
She wondered if she’d died.
A few moments later, she wished she had.
Pain shot through her head only a second before her muscles cramped. All she could do was roll to her side, pull her knees to her chest and try to breathe.
Her mind was thrown in bedlam. Thought after thought swirled in a kaleidoscope, none making sense. Sounds came fast and furious, like a cacophony of
birds chirping in the same tree.
No, not chirps—voices.
The voices of her sisters blending with her own.
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to focus on one thought.
I am the vessel. I am the vessel.
The other voices drowned her out, each giving orders of what to do and trying to move different parts of her body. Megan ordering her to stand. Rebecca trying to grab a dagger. Gina wanting to know if she could still jump.
Sarita sat up and set her jaw.
Oh, for the love of... Shut up for a second!
Her sisters’ voices stopped and the pain vanished.
I am the vessel. Let me take the reins.
And they did. The other Amazons were there in her mind and using their distinct voices, but those thoughts came as easily as her own. Just to see if that meant they could work together as well, she held out a hand, palm up, and tried to create fire. The spark began as a red light, growing into a small ball of flames. With a smile, she snuffed it by closing her fist.
Hand raised, she made the tallest tree’s branches dance at her command.
Oh yes, she was ready. They were ready.
Sarita got to her feet, steady and confident, with one purpose and one intent. She strode to the edge of the platform and stepped off.
* * *
First things first.
Sarita pictured Helen’s temple and blinked.
From the back of the sanctuary, Sarita waited, listening as Helen ranted at Children of the Earth who’d gathered in the temple.
The sanctuary was packed, people standing shoulder to shoulder. All ages. All sizes. Men and women who cheered each of Helen’s comments. Many pumped their fists in the air, grunting or whooping when Helen told them they were the chosen ones.
Helen’s beautiful face, the one that had appeared so young despite her age, beamed down from an impossibly large monitor. A glamour, no doubt, to keep the COEs from seeing her true face.
From door to the left of the altar, two followers—rather burly men—dragged a girl of no more than sixteen toward Helen. The girl’s head lolled from side to side as though she’d been drugged.
“I require a sacrifice,” Helen coaxed before pointing to the girl in white. “I require another sign of your faith. Only then can I bring you the riches you deserve.”
Sarita couldn’t watch one more minute. Neither could her sisters who clamored for her to act. Now.
“She can’t bring you riches!” Sarita shouted above the din. “She’ll bring you nothing but misery.”
Everyone in the sanctuary whirled to face her.
A shriek spilled from Helen’s lips. “It’s the enemy, the one who wants to destroy me! Kill her!”
One COE, a man no older than Sarita, charged first. With a swipe of her hand, she sent him crashing into the blue velvet chairs. Two more surged forward. With a twist of her wrist, they went flying to land on the first guy.
As the rest of Helen’s followers eyed her warily, Sarita spun her finger to turn the video camera and then brought it to life with a blink. Helen’s image flickered and then died as Sarita’s filled the screen, just as it would the screens at all of Helen’s temples. Worldwide.
She gasped at what she saw, feeling her sisters’ surprise as well. Although it was her face—the familiar scar keeping her grounded—everything else had changed.
Her hair was not only white but glowing. Her eyes shimmered like enormous pearls with no visible pupils. Her casual clothes had been replaced by a white gown, light as a feather and sparkling in the sunlight.
A true benandanta.
The power was at her fingertips and the words of spells on the tip of her tongue.
She was jam-packed full of Amazon powers, too.
“I need you all to listen to me.” Sarita’s voice boomed through the temple, making the glass walls and ceiling rattle. “This woman isn’t who she claims to be. She’s not a goddess who wants to grant you favors. She’s an imposter with borrowed powers. She’s a murderer and a fraud.”
“Kill her!” one man shouted.
“Sacrifice her!” a woman screamed. “Sacrifice her to our savior!”
Angry words flew from the COEs, directed at Sarita.
Instead of letting their hate touch her, she brushed it aside with little effort. All she cared about was saving lives. No humans would be sacrificed on her watch, and she wasn’t about to let herself be led like a lamb to slaughter.
Sarita waved her hands, bringing the volume of the shouts down. Many of the COEs grabbed at their throats. With one quick swish of her arm, they were all silenced.
“She’s deceiving you,” Sarita said. “She’s turned you into thieves and vandals. But what has it gained you anything? No!”
“They have my benevolence,” Helen insisted.
“They have nothing.” Sarita tried to reach these people before their souls were lost. “She’s turned you into murderers, sacrificing people. And for what? For her? She can offer you nothing but misery and pain! Don’t commit any more murders for a fake goddess. Let me show you her true face!”
The screen flickered until Helen’s visage filled it again.
Taking a deep breath, Sarita drew on her combined powers. Every action was so natural, every word coming as though she’d always known how to wield white magicks. “I bind your glamour! Let your spell be broken so that we may all see inside your soul!” She thrust her hands out.
Helen put her hands in front of her face and screamed. Her blond hair thinned and grayed as the skin on her hands wrinkled and spotted. When she pulled her hands away, her face was back to the ancient crone who’d attacked Avalon.
The COEs began to screech. A couple of the women fainted. Sarita could only imagine the chaos in the other temples.
She tried to steer the followers in the right direction. “Look at her! This is not someone to die for! She’s not someone to worship! Go home to your families and forget her!”
Many of the people hurried to the exits, several shedding their robes as they fled, but a few faced Sarita, coming slowly up the aisle.
Time to press her point home.
She narrowed her eyes at the glass ceiling panel hanging over the altar. It cracked, then shattered into shards. She held the pieces up with a raised hand, letting them hover over the brave souls ready to do Helen’s bidding.
“You should run now,” she warned. “While you have the chance.”
They obeyed, fleeing the altar a moment before Sarita dropped her hand and let the glass shards rain down.
Helen shimmered and disappeared from the screen.
Sarita whirled on her heel and stalked out of the temple, letting each of her footsteps send tremors racing across the ground. Once she was outside, she stomped her foot once and sent a quake strong enough to collapse the empty temple into a pile of rubble.
* * *
The island was still beautiful, and she’d always keep the memories of her times here with Ian in her heart.
Sarita stared out at the open water, watching the waves crash against the sand, recharging as she waited for the last act of this play to commence.
Her sisters were with her, and she fed all their powers. The water lapped against her toes as she curled them in the sand. She faced the setting sun, letting the heat warm her skin before the wind cooled it.
We are one.
“Now, you die.”
A slow smile spread over Sarita’s lips as she faced Helen.
The once powerful and beautiful Ancient had been reduced to a snarling beast. She clutched a sword in her hands, waving it as the blade sang.
“I’m unarmed,” Sarita said.
“Then killing you will be easier.”
The confidence of her sisters washed o
ver her, and her heart swelled with love as her body trembled with power.
Helen let out a rage-filled scream and charged.
Sarita sprang over her head, landing gracefully on the sand and whirled to catch the dagger Helen had thrown between her palms. She discarded it beside her. “Nice try.”
The sword fell to the sand, and Helen raised her hands, palms out. Streams of fire burst at Sarita.
This one was easy. A quick gesture sent an enormous wave crashing over Helen’s head, extinguishing the flames and soaking her.
Sputtering, Helen narrowed her eyes and disappeared.
Sarita saw where she’d gone in her thoughts and blocked Helen’s kick.
The fight was on.
Blows and kicks were punctuated with the bursts of energy that Helen tried to throw. Each move was in Sarita’s mind before it was made.
Helen finally bellowed—sounding like wounded animal—and disappeared. She popped back up close to the tree line.
The scene’s familiarity hit when the ground rumbled and the first tree toppled. Had her sisters not been safely bonded inside her, Sarita might have worried about watching their deaths play out in real life. Now, there was no fear—only a certainty that her premonition had faded to nothing more than wisps of images that would never be.
A palm tree hurtled at her.
Sarita deflected it with a sweep of her arm.
Two more sailed at her.
This time, she jumped them.
Ian’s hut collapsed as the ground continued to shift, and Helen fired the pieces at Sarita in an endless torrent of debris.
“Be gone!” Holding out her palms, Sarita shot streams of white energy at the rubble, burning each piece to gray ash as it came in contact with the force field.
Helen collapsed on to her hands and knees, panting for breath, as the earthquake intensified.
Sarita was ready for this to end, but her stomach rebelled when she realized the time had come to kill Helen. No matter what she’d done, the evil she’d unleashed, all that remained of the former Earth Amazon was a shell—a withered, exhausted old woman.
How could Sarita kill something so...pathetic?
