The entire ride was a test of Adonis’ will to live. He winced as his head kept bouncing off the hard ridge of the horse’s neck as he fought to maintain his position, lolling forward on its back. The warmth of its large body was little comfort as every slam of a hoof against the ground vibrated through the horse’s frame to rattle Adonis’ brain. Never in the past week had Adonis been quite so aware of his lack of energy. His mind sluggishly fought to process even the simplest thought, and holding himself in a sitting position astride the horse had been more of a fight than it was worth—hence the face-neck banging as he’d tried lying down. By the time they got to Ivy’s tower, he was grateful to fall to the ground.
It would have been nice to lie in the cool grass for a bit, but Adonis sighed and forced himself to rise. As he stumbled to the foot of the tower, a bit more energy trickled into his body. Just the thought of seeing Ivy again filled him with happiness, a strange sense of coming home. For the first time in his life, Adonis looked into his future and he saw a woman there—the same woman. He stood in front of the tower for a moment, closing his eyes as his brain whined and clicked and stuttered. It was too exhausting to think. Too exhausting to ignore only fact left standing amidst the ruins of his sanity.
As all incubi inevitably do, he’d fallen in love—and in the grand tradition of demons everywhere, he’d done it in the most inconvenient way possible.
Peace came with admitting his situation. He strode to the foot of the tower with more serenity than he’d felt in a long time. He even found himself smiling as he stared up at the balcony, already imagining Ivy’s expressive face. The air was quiet and still, with no sound coming from inside the tower. Adonis cleared his throat, unable to resist.
“Ivy, sweet Ivy, let down your hair!”
Surprise lifted his eyebrows as the golden braid appeared almost instantly, falling down like a silken cord from the heavens. It was as if she’d been waiting for him, standing right there with her braid at the ready. A grin lit his face and some of the tension seeped from his shoulders. Perhaps she’d missed him as much as he’d missed her. He looked up, wanting to see her golden eyes twinkling with reproachful mirth.
Nothing.
Odd. He’d expected Ivy to speak to him first, perhaps shout at him a little for staying away so long. It wasn’t like the fiery maiden to pass up an opportunity to taunt him. Intrigued, he grasped her braid, shocked even further when she began hauling him up.
Guilt bit him at the rush of relief that caressed his body in waves. Truth be told, he hadn’t been too certain that he’d be able to climb on his own. With the anticipation of being able to see Ivy, he felt better, but a week without sex had taxed him to his limits. The physical exertion of climbing would have been a challenge. Stirring up as much of his former zest as possible as he climbed over the edge of the balcony, he opened his mouth to offer an apology for his absence.
He never managed a word. He had a brief glimpse of an old woman, her grey hair in wild disarray and her eyes drowning black pits. She flew at him with outstretched arms and before he could react, she gave him a vicious shove over the balcony. He hit the ledge and went over in one smooth motion. Shouted words in an ancient tongue followed him as he fell and suddenly a thousand points of pain erupted in his body at once. Cracking wood echoed around him as thorn-tipped braches broke his fall and sent him spinning into a chaotic mess of blood and agony. He bellowed as the thorns dragged across his face, slicing over his eyes and plunging him into darkness. Hot liquid ran down his face and a small part of his brain registered that his eyes had been ravaged and left in ruins.
Pain burned over his flesh in sharp, burning lines as he struggled to get out of the brambles. Splintered wood ran jagged teeth over his arms and legs, biting down on his clothing and refusing to let go. The sound of rending cloth rasped against his ears and the bitter scent of blood taunted his nostrils. Disoriented and full of enough rage to set something on fire with his will alone, he let the pain spur him on until he finally stumbled free. He collapsed onto soft grass, the cool blades a feeble balm to his bloody flesh. He crouched on all fours, struggling to breathe, each intake of air a fresh wave of agony.
A litany of ancient words floated to him on the wind, getting louder with each syllable. The same voice that had screamed at him—Ivy’s mother, the witch, no doubt—was approaching, weaving some sort of spell.
Magic cracked over him like a whip, and Adonis roared in pain as his flesh seized. He reared up only to freeze with his back arched, every muscle in his body stiffened like solid stone. He couldn’t breathe to speak, couldn’t move to strike out. Panic seared his chest even as he fought to push his claws out, to reach for the witch trying to smother him in her grasp. Then suddenly the spell ended, dropping him to the ground where he collapsed like a freshly slaughtered deer.
“You could have had any woman in the kingdom,” the witch’s voice croaked. “You will pay for taking Ivy from me. That body you hold on to so vigorously will be your tomb, demon. You are well and truly bound now and when that flesh dies, your precious astral spirit will perish with it. Go on, blunder about if you will. You will never leave this valley—and you will never see Ivy again!”
Her words echoed around his head, stirring up fear and horror the likes of which he’d never known. He didn’t know enough about magic to know exactly what she’d done, if it could be undone. It didn’t matter, not now, not yet. First he had to get away.
Adonis gritted his teeth, forcing himself to hold onto what little power he had left. The urge to strike out at the witch was strong, but that wasn’t what was important now. Even if he could hit her while blinded, she was right, he’d never make it home. And the hesitation spell she’d laced over the valley would keep anyone from finding him, even if they searched. He would have no choice but to wait for someone else to fall into it by accident—a near impossibility. Unless he could call in a favor.
He forced himself to wait, bearing the spine-tingling sensation of his blood seeping out of his body from a thousand cuts. Footsteps trailed off in the distance, he assumed the witch abandoning him to his fate. Cursing the loss of his sight, he had no choice but to wait and hope she had really gone. When he was reasonably sure he was alone, the last sounds of the witch’s enraged footsteps having long fallen away, he raised a shaking hand to the small vial tied to a lock of his hair, hidden at the nape of his neck. He released it from its bonds and brought the ampoule around in front of him. After uncorking it, he raised it to his lips. The coppery scent of blood wafted past his nose and he exhaled into the bottle, infusing it with his essence.
“Kirill,” he whispered. “Kirill, Prince of Dacia, son of Afon, by blood I summon you.”
The snap of magic in the air nearly sent him to the ground in relief. It had been a sphinx’s age since he’d used summoning magic, and he hadn’t been certain he had enough kick in him left to pull it off. He sagged, barely remembering to cork the vial and replace it under his hair. If the witch came back, there would be little he could do to defend himself, but he owed it to Kirill not to leave his blood out there lying around for someone else to take advantage of.
It seemed like an eternity until the cooling air told him the sun was setting. Adonis controlled his breathing, trying to stay as calm as he could to keep his heart rate down. His essence filled the body he inhabited and it was significantly stronger than the average human, but he could still bleed out. The witch’s claim rang in his head like the tolling of death bells. If she spoke the truth, his life would end with the death of this body. It would all truly be over.
“For the love of Perun, what happened to you?”
Adonis cried out with relief. He struggled to get an arm under his body to push himself up, wincing when he toppled over on the first attempt. It took another two attempts before he managed to prop himself up on his forearms and raise his face to the spot Kirill’s voice was coming from. A hiss of breath told him Kirill had noticed his eyes.
“I met the mother,
” Adonis joked feebly.
“Wonderful,” Kirill muttered, disgust thick in his voice. “You’ve jumped into the wrong bed, haven’t you?”
“Kirill, this is no time to be cruel, the man is covered in blood for goodness sakes!”
“Irina,” Adonis called out, never so grateful to hear the dulcet tones of the rusalka’s voice as he was in that moment. “Thank the gods you’re here.” Adonis struggled to stand, grateful when someone lifted his arm and helped steady him. Judging by the softness of the shoulder, he guessed Irina. The growl from Kirill was a good indicator as well.
“Kirill, Adonis is blind, or didn’t you notice the bodily fluids staining his tunic? This is hardly the time to be possessive,” Irina chastised her husband.
“He’s hurt because he followed his—”
“For once, that is actually not the case,” Adonis interrupted. Now that some of the initial giddiness of his rescue was wearing off, reality was setting in. Tension sprang back to life in his body with a vengeance, setting every one of the thousands of cuts on fire as if acid were raining down on him from the sky. Adonis ignored the pain, groping about to try and grab Irina by the shoulders. “Ivy! She might still be in the tower! She could be hurt.”
“You mean that tower there, covered from base to tip with brambles as thick as my arm?” Kirill questioned.
Adonis clutched his stomach and stumbled against Irina. “May the gods have mercy on us. She’s sealed her in.” He spun around, groping for the wall of the tower, determined to climb the thorns if he had to. “We have to get her out of there.”
In his haste, he struck out too vigorously. A thick thorn plunged into his palm and a fresh, warm gush of blood trickled down to his fingers. Adonis shrugged it off, his pain receptors too overloaded to bother with another injury. He raised his hands back to the tower. Someone grabbed his arm, jerking him back before he could reach the insidious barrier.
“Adonis,” Irina’s musical voice pressed, “don’t be a fool. You’re hurt, we need to get you healed before you go trying to climb any tower walls.”
“I won’t leave her,” Adonis insisted, resisting the urge to rip his arm from Irina’s grasp. The rusalka had been nothing but kind to him, he didn’t want to hurt her. But he wouldn’t let her stop him either, not when Ivy could be trapped and alone.
“Fine, fine, we’ll go up and see if she’s in there,” Irina soothed, gently easing him backward.
“You say ‘we,’ but you really mean me,” Kirill muttered.
“Yes, I do, now get up there.”
Adonis’ stomach twisted into knots as he faced the last direction he’d heard Kirill’s voice come from.
“Kirill, please. Help me.” In that moment he would have given his right arm to be able to see the vampire’s face. He needed to know what Kirill was thinking, needed to see if Adonis’ situation was affecting the Dacian royal.
There was a rustling of clothing, the clinking of metal, and then silence.
“What’s going on?” Adonis groped around for Irina, seeking her soothing presence. “Kirill?”
“Kirill turned himself to mist. He’s going to get into the tower to look for your friend,” Irina assured him, rubbing his back in small, calming circles.
Adonis raised his eyebrows, wincing as the blood that had started to dry cracked. “I didn’t know he could do that.”
Irina chuckled. “He hates it. He can’t take his clothes or his weapons with him. Just between you and me, it’s the only way to really disarm him if you want him to go somewhere with no blades or magic items.”
Any other time, Adonis would have laughed along with Irina, perhaps made some sort of joke about Kirill’s tongue being the sharpest weapon he possessed, but he was too distracted. His pulse thudded so hard in his throat that it gagged him with every beat. The anticipation of what Kirill was going to find in that tower was just too much, even for him.
“My love, did you find her?” Irina called out a few moments later, as if sensing Adonis’ fraying nerves.
“No. There is no one in there, only some smashed paintings and broken mirrors.”
The ground smashed into Adonis’ knees as he collapsed. “This is all my fault,” he said numbly. “I never should have left her alone so long. The necromancer didn’t know what he was talking about, for all I know my little fast probably just pissed Aphrodite off. She probably saw Ivy as a threat, was afraid I’d break my oath. Now Ivy’s gone, and it’s my fault.”
Adonis was vaguely aware he was rambling, but he didn’t care. Vertigo swirled him around until the earth against his bloody knees was his only way of knowing he hadn’t fallen off the face of the world.
“Did you say necromancer?” Kirill demanded.
“Kirill, not now!” Irina’s voice boomed like the shout of an angry deity. A delicate hand on the back of his neck drew Adonis’ attention and he lifted his head. “Adonis, you’re coming home with us. We’re going to get you healed up and then we’ll find your friend.”
It was a lovely promise, but Adonis couldn’t quite bring his hopes up to meet it. Still, he didn’t argue when Kirill and Irina pulled him to his feet, letting him lean on them as they lurched away from the tower.
After a moment, he felt Irina shift.
“Adonis, what happened?” she asked softly.
Adonis blinked, gasping at the searing pain that radiated out from his eye sockets. He stumbled, grateful when Kirill tensed against him, holding Adonis more firmly against his body. Desperate for anything to take his mind off the pain of his ravaged face, he turned to face Irina.
“I found this tower by accident. There was a girl…” Images of Ivy filled his head and he couldn’t for the life of him think of an adjective that would do her justice. He sighed. “Her mother forced her to stay here, put a hesitation spell on the valley to keep people away and told Ivy all these scary stories to keep her from leaving. Before I took her on a short flight, Ivy’d never left this place.” He tripped over his own feet as the ground seemed to heave violently below him. Irina and Kirill both fought to keep him upright and he let his head sag miserably. “I knew I should stay away from her, but I just couldn’t. You know me, curiosity and the cat. Before I knew it, it was too late. She’d developed feelings for me and I…”
He trailed off, unwilling to even say the words out loud. He didn’t deserve to say them, not after what he’d allowed to happen to Ivy.
“You love her,” Kirill said quietly.
Adonis nodded. “I came here today and the witch was waiting. When I got into the tower, she attacked me. The next thing I know, I’m falling over the edge and landing in a mess of thorns.” He gestured to his face for emphasis. “Her mother must have somehow found out I visited Ivy.” He sobbed and tripped again. This time he tore his arms from Kirill and Irina’s grasps, crumpling to the ground and slamming a fist against the dirt. “It’s my fault she’s gone.”
Someone knelt in front of him in a whisper of velvet. Fingertips brushed his shoulders, and Adonis expected it to be Irina coming to comfort him. The hands closed on his shoulders in a solid, vise-like grip and lifted him up. Kirill.
“Adonis,” the vampire said calmly, “we are going to find her. First, you are going to come home with Irina and me and my healer is going to attend to you. After that, I promise you, we will find Ivy.”
Despite the misery clouding around him, Adonis couldn’t help the small rush of warmth he felt in his heart to hear the vampire so serious in his assurances. “Kirill, you amaze me. I do believe your wife has been a wonderful influence on you.” His shoulders sagged. “Unfortunately, there’s no way you can know what the witch did with Ivy. This tower has been here for Ivy’s entire life, not more than an hour’s ride from the castle, but no one ever found it. Her magic is strong. What hope—”
“Adonis,” Kirill said sharply. “Do I seem to you to be a man who likes having a debt hanging over his head?”
The corners of his mouth made a valiant attempt at a smile
. “No.”
“No. I am not. And if it were not for you, I would not be married to Irina right now.”
Irina sighed, a soft affectionate sound. Adonis heard her kiss Kirill, a small gesture of reciprocation for his moment of vulnerability. Despite his misery, Adonis couldn’t help but feel a warm wave of happiness for the vampire and his wife. He never would have guessed when he’d met Kirill that the vampire would fall so hard for such a kind-hearted woman. Opposites attract, I guess.
“Believe me when I tell you, we will find the girl,” Kirill finished, his voice barely a shade hoarser after the kiss.
Adonis stumbled to his feet with Kirill’s help and allowed the vampire to lead him.
Golden Stair Page 14
