Blood Trinity

by Sherrilyn Kenyon; Dianna Love

  The beast gently slipped a talon between the gag and her face, slicing the rag with little effort.

  She screamed, eyes bulging in terror.

  Vyan began to wonder what the beast would actually do. He swung his gaze to Batuk, whose black eyebrows drew tight over his hard expression.

  This clearly confused his warlord.

  The young woman began crying hysterically and spewing garbled words in a language Vyan did not speak. He understood the meaning behind them, though. She pleaded for her life.

  The self-hatred he lived with each day for failing his wife would be nothing compared to what he’d feel if he found no way to stop this travesty. What was left of his soul would be a true wasteland.

  When the girl moved to crawl away, the creature roared and slapped the ground with its open palm. Vines exploded from the earth, pushing her onto her back, then tethering her arms and legs. It bared its teeth. A thin tongue slinked out, stretching all the way down to touch her face.

  She cringed, turning away and crying harder.

  Vyan closed his eyes, damning himself along with the others. This was wrong!

  Her scream snapped his eyes open and shook loose what was left of his humanity. He could not let Batuk do this. They’d all sworn revenge on the Beladors, but offering this poor woman to a monster was not his idea of war.

  “Wait!” Vyan fully expected to pay for this interference with his life.

  The beast’s glare was only outdone by Batuk’s murderous gaze, which should have backed Vyan away, but didn’t.

  “The girl has not taken the serum the witch gave us,” Vyan quickly explained.

  The warlord’s face blazed red with anger, embarrassment, or both. “Nhivoli, why did you not give it to her?”

  “My lord, I do not have the serum, Vyan does.”

  Batuk’s fingernails lengthened into sharp metal claws, a sign he wanted to kill someone. With his glowing yellow eyes locked on Vyan, it wasn’t hard to figure out who. “She is nothing more than a meal if she does not drink it. Give her the serum!”

  Her wailing filled the jungle. The air trembled with her despair.

  “The witch said it was not necessary to drink all of the brew,” Vyan hedged. “In fact, she warned us about using too much.” The witch had actually said to give the serum to an animal, then stake the offering for the beast to feast upon, because she believed the potion would work slower and hold longer if not taken directly, but she did not know for sure. Vyan really didn’t care what it did to the monster, but he would not allow this girl to be a sacrificial lamb.

  “Feed her the brew now!” Batuk bellowed.

  Vyan struggled to think quickly under the threat of his impending death. “What if she drinks the serum then her stomach tosses it back? We can’t risk wasting any of the liquid. The beast’s body is much stronger than hers. Give the beast some and see if it works. If not, then give the rest to the girl, but do not let him kill her first.” He had no idea how he would get the woman away from this monster and Batuk, but he’d bought himself a few minutes with which to plan.

  Ignoring them, the monster raised a hand above her, fingers curved to attack. She screamed, then fainted.

  Vyan took a step toward the beast, his hand going to his sword. The creature’s head spun to the side. He stared at Vyan with raw hatred.

  “Sir.” Batuk extended his arms, palms open in offering. “I have brought something better than the girl. I have a serum that will give you what you most desire.”

  The beast’s rumbling breaths came quicker. Its black eyes crept from the girl to Batuk, then returned to its prey. It seemed to struggle with indecision until it slowly moved its hand back and forth above her. The silent order caused the vines tethering her to slide away from her body and into the jungle as frightened asps. Moving its hand again, the beast levitated her limp body to lie across one extended arm before it stood and, to Vyan’s disappointment, turned toward the dense woods.

  What now?

  Vyan was Batuk’s best strategist, but he’d come up with no idea of how to deter this beast from the girl. If all else failed, he would use his sword. To do so would decidedly result in his own death at Batuk’s hands, but Vyan had enough nightmares without draping this woman’s death across his shoulders, too.

  He called out to the beast. “So you do not want the serum that will cure you of being a beast? Too bad. We shall leave then.”

  At his challenge, the beast turned a gaze on him so soulless that there appeared to be no eyes in the black sockets.

  Vyan took a deep breath he hoped would not be his last. “Lay the girl down and I will give you the serum.”

  “It is my gift to you,” Batuk quickly interjected with enough emphasis to let everyone know he was in charge. He steepled his hands in front of his chest, then bowed to the monster, but his eyes seethed with ire when he glanced at his first in command.

  Vyan only hoped if they survived this that he could convince his warlord later he’d been trying to save all of them. He withdrew the metal flask and stepped forward.

  The beast swung around. The woman dangled from his arm.

  “Put the girl down,” Vyan repeated, his tone one of counsel rather than an order.

  When the beast still hesitated, Vyan opened the flask and angled it as though to pour the contents out on the ground. Hearing Batuk’s harsh intake of air, Vyan prepared for death in the next minute.

  The beast flung the girl to the side, where she landed on several bushes, then slid to the ground. Vyan winced, but so far she was unharmed. Bruised and probably mentally scarred. But physically she’d recover.

  He placed the flask on a bare patch of dirt and backed away.

  The beast lifted its hand over the metal container, which rose in the air to eye level. It stared at the flask, clearly questioning the contents as it breathed in and out in a low rumble from deep in its chest.

  “I need you to help us, so why would I poison you?” Batuk asked in an encouraging tone.

  The beast stomped its foot.

  Vines lashed from the trees down upon Vyan and the others before he could draw his sword. He fought to free himself, but he might as well have been tied with braided metal.

  The men called out for Batuk to free them.

  His warlord stood tall in his binding and stared at the beast. “Kill me if you choose, but free my men. The only mistake they made was in trusting me. My only mistake was believing you, too, wanted revenge on the Beladors, to make their leader Brina pay for what she has turned you into.”

  The beast stopped snarling and studied the warlord.

  In that moment, Vyan witnessed a flash of longing in the empty eyes. The beast wanted to believe Batuk.

  Silence bound everyone for several seconds.

  Then the beast raised its hand and pointed a finger at the flask that floated chin high, but he did not touch it. The metal tin moved to the beast’s mouth and tilted as it dropped its head back to allow the brown liquid to flow down its throat.

  “He still may not help us,” Vyan warned under his breath.

  Batuk was unbelievably calm given their situation. “We have never known the outcome of any battle before the first strike of swords.” He turned his head and staked Vyan with a menacing glare. “You have never doubted my ability to lead my men before. Do you now?”

  “No. My loyalty does not waver.” Vyan made sure his voice was solid with conviction to hide the lie. Though honestly, his faith should have wavered sooner.

  Much sooner.

  The flask hit the ground hard. The beast clutched its middle, moaning. Fire glowed red in its eyes when it raised its head. The beast clawed at its chest as if trying to let something out, then twisted into an impossible shape.

  A cry of agony tore loose from its cracked lips.

  Vyan could not believe what he witnessed. He prayed they lived long enough to make the witch pay for what she’d given this beast, which would rip them into pieces as soon as it could physically do
so.

  Red dust appeared from nowhere, swirling in bands around them, faster and faster until the beast was engulfed in a cloud that roared like a loud horn. Sand, loose branches and stones lifted from the ground in the spinning cloud, pelting Vyan’s skin, cutting his face and shoulders. The men’s cries were lost in the noise until the wind died all at once.

  Peace ensued so abruptly that the soldiers quieted, until Vyan heard only the thumping of his heart and each panting breath he drew. He tasted dust and blood on his lips.

  When the haze settled, the beast was no longer a beast. Still wearing ragged jeans and no shirt, he now stood only a few inches over six feet tall. His golden hair and pale eyes were as out of place in this jungle as the straight white teeth and perfect features.

  Those unnaturally bright green eyes were not human.

  They were the unique shade of an Alterant’s.

  “What do you want, warlord?” the man asked, the glint in his gaze as hard as the cut of muscle wrapping his upper body. He folded his forearms over a smooth chest.

  Batuk remained calm. “I was told you are Tristan. And that you are an Alterant, not a pure Belador, even though you were born under their star. It is rumored you have the blood of a dark spirit, but your fair hair and pale eyes surprise me.”

  Tristan snorted. “Surely you didn’t go through all of this to talk about my looks?”

  “As I said earlier, I came to make a deal with you. I need one with your powers to help us.”

  “Why should I care what you want?”

  “Because if you agree to my offer, you can remain the way you are now … forever. You will no longer be known as a beast.”

  Tristan’s eyebrows flickered in surprise, then he shook his head and shoved a testy glare at Batuk. “Who are you to think you can offer me the impossible?”

  But curiosity had slipped through the bravado in his words.

  “I am Batuk, the Kujoo warlord. My men and I are willing to lay down our lives to make the Beladors pay for murdering our families and raiding our lands. We will not stop until every one of them lies dead.”

  Vyan felt encouraged at the slight catch of interest in Tristan’s eyes when Batuk mentioned warring with the Beladors.

  “You have yet to answer my question, warlord.” Tristan shifted, his bored stance reinforcing a lack of patience.

  “Release us so we may talk as men. I have proven I am not your enemy by the form you have right now.”

  Tristan tossed his head to one side, as if silently ordering someone to leave. The vines unwrapped from Vyan’s body and snaked away to nearby trees. The witch had warned that this part of the jungle was entirely under Tristan’s rule and power, but it was also his prison. The two-kilometer-square area had been shrouded in a spell that prevented him from leaving.

  Once the men were freed, Batuk stepped closer to him. “I have sworn revenge on the Beladors for murdering our people and causing us to lose favor with our god Shiva. My men escaped through a portal we’ve opened between the two worlds. I am willing to help you obtain what you want if you will in turn help me obtain what I need.”

  “What exactly do you need?”

  Batuk hesitated just long enough for Vyan not to trust his warlord’s answer. “To free my people from imprisonment beneath Mount Meru, but I feel certain we will encounter the Beladors before this is accomplished. If so, we will need your help to defeat them, as our god forbids us from warring with the Beladors. You can fight them. We cannot.”

  Tristan chuckled, a derisive sound meant to mock. “You do realize the Beladors who live today are a bunch self-righteous pansies, right? That bitch Macha protects them as long as they uphold an oath of honor.”

  Batuk curled his lip. “I care not about their oath, and neither should you.” His righteousness swelled with each boom of his deep voice. “I was told how Brina denied you your birthright. That she caged you here, refusing to let you leave without her permission. Do you not yearn for revenge for being cast away as unworthy?”

  “You know nothing about me, only rumors and stories traded by Nightstalkers and black witches,” Tristan shot back. “I have no reason to believe you. Leave now while I’m feeling relaxed. Or I might choose one of you to take back to my cave and show you how I’ve entertained others who ventured into my space.” His eyebrows lifted with the grin that appeared on his too-pretty face.

  Vyan touched the handle of his sword.

  Tristan’s gaze slashed at him with eyes that blazed hot as the setting sun and could have cooked the monkey Vyan had wanted for dinner. A bolt of fiery light shot from his gaze to the ground at Vyan’s feet, close enough to smoke the toes of his boots.

  In return, Vyan quirked an unimpressed look at Tristan that said, Is that all you got, an amusing phrase he’d heard from the street kids in Atlanta. Tightening his fingers on the hilt of his sword, he considered using his majik to answer the insult, but he would not risk injuring the other soldiers.

  He didn’t miss the fact that Batuk failed to address the insult.

  “I know this.” Batuk drew Tristan’s attention back to him. “No man would continue to live as a beast when he could walk this land freely in the body you own at this minute. If you agree to my offer, I have a key that will unlock this cursed existence forever.”

  Tristan made a noise in his throat that dismissed Batuk’s offer. “Listen closely, warlord. A local witch doctor came here out of curiosity. I held him captive for a month and gave him every opportunity to work his voodoo to cure me. Didn’t happen. In fact, he tried to kill me for my blood. His skull now decorates the entrance to my cave. I’ll give you one minute to convince me why I shouldn’t use your head to make a matched set.”

  Batuk smiled confidently. “The serum I gifted you with was brewed by our witch who knows much about Alterants. My men and I all bled into the mixture to share our powers with you, but the witch warns this will not last long. She says you will be able to escape this prison while you are in human form this time, but it will only last for three days. Before then, if you join my army, we will locate the Ngak Stone, which has the power to break your curse forever.”

  Now Vyan understood the rush.

  Three days to find the stone and gain control? They were destined to die in this time. Legend held that the stone had always chosen a powerful being in the past. What were the chances they could find the stone’s new master or that Tristan as Batuk’s envoy could take possession of the stone in so little time? How could they trust Tristan to keep his word if he did agree?

  Would have been nice to have known everything before Vyan traveled here and risked his life for nothing.

  Tristan narrowed his gaze on Batuk. “What are you not telling me?”

  “That we cannot battle the Beladors without drawing the attention of the gods. We do not have our Shiva’s support, so I need you to …”

  There was that hesitation again, making Vyan wonder what game Batuk played.

  “… agree to stand with us should we face the Beladors before leaving this world. Second, the Ngak Stone has chosen a new master. Shiva would know immediately if one of us gained control of the Ngak Stone, or I would have gone after it myself by now. I need someone with your power and lack of ties to any entity to take possession and wield the stone for us. The Beladors infest the earth now and will no doubt also learn the stone has taken a master.”

  Tristan shook his head. “So basically, you need to keep a low profile until you can get out of town, so to speak?”

  Batuk tilted his head in confirmation. “Once you convince the new master to willingly give you the stone, you will hold the power in your hand to break the curse of being an animal. In return, I want you to use the stone’s power to send all of my tribe back eight hundred years to our home—not Mount Meru but when we lived as men with families. And, as I said, possibly battle the Beladors if a conflict arises.”

  Tristan’s eyes twitched, narrowing on Batuk before his gaze evened out with a look of silent underst
anding that Vyan trusted even less than Batuk’s words. Something had just transpired between the two. If only he could determine what.

  The Alterant’s entire body relaxed. “Why would the stone’s master help me?”

  “Because the master will be a woman. With the face and body you now possess, can you not sway one female to do your bidding?”

  Tristan actually smiled. “There are many ways to make a woman bend to my will. Some are more enjoyable than others. Looks like we have a deal.”

  Batuk might have a deal, but Vyan had no intention of bending to Tristan or trusting the bastard to help his people.

  Vyan no longer trusted his leader either.

  That left him with only one person he could rely on.

  Himself. And only one choice of action. He’d have to find this woman who possessed the stone before Tristan did and convince her to help free his people before Batuk’s real agenda killed them all.

  Vyan clenched his teeth as the task ahead daunted his conviction. Damn, his conscience had picked a terrible time to return.

  SEVENTEEN

  The sense of spinning ended abruptly with Evalle standing upright. She shoved her hands out for balance. Her palms hit a surface that flexed, but it was the lungful of raw sewage she breathed in that told her exactly where she was.

  Sen had teleported her to a port-a-potty.

  In the middle of the summer in Atlanta. Gross.

  That bastard’s sense of humor came from the same place his head was shoved up most of the time.

  She fumbled with the door handle and stumbled out onto a dark sidewalk on shaky legs, gulping fresh air. The sidewalk pitched with her vertigo.

  Nausea threatened to finish off her perfectly crappy day.

  At least it wasn’t dawn yet. That would be more like Sen to stick her in a port-a-potty in the middle of a hundred-degree day without sufficient clothing to leave.