House of Moons 3: The Slave

by Kara Fey

  Trystan stood behind her, forgotten, a dim shadow eclipsed by her confrontation with Bental Slarin. He’d said he would wait, would be ready to help her when she made her move against the old wizard. But looking into Bental’s demonic eyes, her gut twisted and churned. Magic flowed through the ancient man until it seemed his entire body was held together by the very essence of the universe. Cold. Dark. Devoid of life.

  Bental stepped forward. The hem of his cloak whispered over her toes, and his breath grazed her cheek. “I will bind you to me, beautiful Mara. Your soul will feed my demon, and your body will sate my cock.”

  Emptiness, icy and indifferent, invaded her limbs with his words. Like a giant leech that survived on magic instead of blood, his presence siphoned energy from her every cell. He summoned her power as if it were his own. Try as she might, she could not wrest control of the abilities stirring to life within her, or stop him from feeding off her energy. Magic whipped through her like a tornado. Her body fed on the universe, called upon it to answer, and all of creation heeded.

  A groan of pain escaped her as the maelstrom burned her insides like acid. Kamara dropped to one knee and pressed a hand over eyes threatening to pop out of their sockets. Automatically, she reached for the one man she trusted to save her. Tobiath.

  He answered. A sudden calm replaced the storm building around her as Tobiath pulled the chaotic energies into himself and sent them back out into the universe. His soul wrapped her up in a warm cocoon and held her safely away from Bental’s malevolent touch. Comforted her. Loved her. He didn’t speak to her, didn’t tell her where he was, but it was enough.

  Rising to stand before him once again, Kamara looked Bental in the eye and did not flinch. “I won’t be your sacrifice, old one.”

  Bental raised an eyebrow and turned away, walked back toward his empty throne. “So, you have taken Tobiath as your lover. Have you bound him to you, dear? I think not.”

  She hadn’t. Kamara mistakenly believed the link they already shared would be strong enough to fight. And it might. But too late she’d discovered their link wasn’t enough to protect her from the monster she faced. No, they’d never spoken the ritual words, but she wasn’t about to admit anything to Bental. So, she just glared at him and wondered what his next move would be. Now she knew Tobiath could anchor her in battle. It was time to figure out how to eliminate their enemy. She hated to admit it, but she wasn’t sure they were going to win this one. Either way, she’d die before she became Bental’s next immortal snack.

  Bental walked past his throne to partially disappear in shadow. Kamara strained to see what he was doing and noticed thick draperies hung behind his seat. Black, they hung from at least twice her height to pool on the floor in sinister folds. An ache started where her heart should’ve been, a premonition of pain at what she suddenly knew she’d see. Bental’s hand appeared from beneath his cloak, shining against the black backdrop like a ghost’s as he pulled the draperies open and revealed their dark secrets.

  Chapter Nine

  The black curtain concealing his presence from the woman he loved slid aside, revealed the scene before him one agonizing inch at a time. Tobiath’s vision was crystal clear, enhanced by digital imagers in the facemask he still wore. The charcoal gray Sneak Suit covered every inch of him, from head to toe, and was designed to hide its wearer from all manner of magical and traditional detection devices. But the suit hadn’t been enough this time. Seven beasts he’d never seen before had surrounded him just as he reached Zira’s holding cell. Nearly as tall as he, the orange furred animals had taken him down and summoned guards. Powerful jaws and sharp hooked teeth ripped and tore through the fabric until his body was battered and bloody and the thick material covering his flesh hung in pieces. The suit had saved his life, kept him alive. Barely. The suit now regulated his body temperature, felt like the only thing holding his insides together. Absorbed his blood.

  The bastard Bental had strung him up and left him. Tobiath knew he’d failed and the knowledge almost made him rejoice in the hot trickle of blood flowing down his leg. Kamara might die, and their enemy never even asked his name.

  Mara stood before him, defiant and strong. Thank God. Behind her, Trystan waited, eyes seething like a starving predator waiting oh so patiently to pounce and devour his prey. There was still hope.

  Tobiath watched a series of emotions cross Kamara’s face, realization, disbelief, and finally, fear. The pain in her dark eyes fueled the fire burning in his belly, turned his frustration into a raging inferno of retribution. Using every ounce of strength left to him, Tobiath struggled to break the iron cuffs pinning him to the wall like a sacrificial lamb. Bental had left him in the black Sneak Suit, not even bothering to uncover his face, as if his identity were of no significance. A fresh line of blood trailed from his wrist, wove and trickled through the hair on his arm and pooled in the sleeve at his elbow to drip onto the black marble beneath him. Each muscle in his body strained and fought the bands around his wrists. The iron didn’t budge.

  “Welcome to the party, my friends.” Bental raised those eerie blue eyes to Tobiath’s face. The old one was malicious, so twisted inside Tobiath doubted he remembered his true name. Bental’s voice was a strange rasp, half speech, half wheezing. The ancient was growing weak. He’d nearly drained all the energy from the frail elderly woman chained to Tobiath’s right.

  Jazmyn was old. Over a hundred orbits of age, if he believed her claims. Looking at the deep lines tracking across her face, the hopeless gray eyes, and the frail little body beneath her white gown, he believed. Jazmyn told him she had been born a Daughter of the House of Moons nearly one hundred and fifty orbits ago. Bental Slarin had simply appeared before her one day, taken her, and bound her to him before her magic had fully awakened. When she realized the full extent of her power, it was too late. Her fate and her soul were already bound to Bental’s. Survival had meant feeding him energy, feeding the greedy beast inside Bental that had kept the past king of Anthea alive for millennia.

  Chained to his left was his precious ward, Zira. The young woman’s head lolled to the side, unconscious. Her face bore a close enough resemblance to Kamara’s that his blood boiled anew. Blood stained the white sleeves of her slave gown where she, too, had struggled against the iron and magic binding her. If Mara managed to defy Bental, the immortal would need her younger cousin to feed his starving cells in her place. Zira had been the old man’s target until he’d met Mara and been lured by more power. And more will. Even now, Tobiath watched Mara’s shoulders straighten as she recovered from the shock of seeing him chained. Oh, yes, his Mara would destroy Bental. Or die trying.

  The last worried him most. An image of her broken and dying flashed through his mind, made his whole body hurt. He needed to get off this damn wall.

  “Let them go.” Mara’s demand brought a smile to Bental’s lips. Then the old man turned to answer her and left Tobiath staring at his back. Honor be damned. If he had a blaster right now, he’d shoot the bastard between his shoulder blades without a qualm.

  “I’ll set them all free, even your new friend Trystan, if I have your word you’ll remain here as my new bride.”

  “No!” The word exploded from Tobiath. “I’d rather die, Mara! You know it.”

  Kamara raised tortured eyes to his, the link between them overloading with too many emotions. Too many fears. But she knew he meant what he said. He watched the knowledge stiffen her jaw and set her lips in a stubborn line he’d developed a fondness for kissing. “I’ll die first, Bental,” Kamara said.

  “No.” Bental flowed across the floor toward Kamara like a levitating corpse in blue. Tobiath noticed her hands were shaking, but she refused to flinch when he stroked her cheek with one thin finger. Bental continued, “You will not die today, Kamara Lonriev. You will be mine for a very, very long time.”

  Kamara glared in disgust, in defiance. “I’ll see you dead first.”

  Bental laughed then. The sound echoed off the walls, mag
nified and grew until the laughter filled the space, filled his head, until the gargoyles themselves seemed to be laughing with him. Tobiath’s hair stood on end at the haunting sound. They were missing something important, a vital piece of the puzzle. Bental took a step back. The unseen winds swirled around him again, whipped his cloak with loud snaps as the old man floated straight up off the floor. “Now, Mara, you will see your lover die first.”

  In a flash of light and energy, Bental struck. Kamara’s scream hurt almost as much as the blade protruding from his chest. He’d failed. He’d failed them all. But he could give her one last gift. Stuttering in his chest, Tobiath’s heart beat for Kamara. I love you, Mara. Then he opened himself, focused his dying will on Bental, and tried to siphon energy out of the Immortal.

  Beside Tobiath, Jazmyn stuttered and cried out. He was weakening her further, speeding her death. Trystan sprang from where they’d all forgotten him. He reached Tobiath and yanked the blade from his brother’s chest in one swift move. “The Binding! Do it now!”

  “Trystan!” Bental’s challenge rang through the air. The power in his voice exploded inside Tobiath’s head like a cannon blast. Trystan spun away from Tobiath and landed on the balls of his feet, ready for battle.

  “I hate you, old man.” Trystan pulled a blaster from somewhere for his right hand, and a small staff for his left.

  Bental laughed and raised the hand with the black ring toward his slave. “I hate you too, son.” With one powerful surge of magic, Bental sent Trystan flying across the room.

  Tobiath’s already struggling body froze in shock. Son? Son! Trystan staggered to his feet and struck back with a burst of green flames born of Zira’s magic. Bental staggered back under the blow and circled Trystan for another attack. How was this possible? Trystan was his twin, his brother. An Immune. And Bental Slarin was his father.

  On his left, Zira moaned and struggled to regain consciousness as Trystan flew backward again.

  Beat. Skip. Beat. Tobiath’s eyelids were too heavy and the train of thought drifted away into the tempting void. He struggled to hold his eyelids open and watch the fight. Kamara was running toward him, somehow free of her chains. Time slowed to a near standstill. In slow motion, he watched her come to him, drank in the vision to carry to the other side.

  His father flew through the air, landed at his feet, and thought returned. God, no wonder there were only a handful of Immunes alive at any one time. Their extended lifespans. All were descendants of Bental, the mythical king of Anthea. The king whom the Daughters of the House of Moons had risen against. Perhaps those crazy Amazon women weren’t so paranoid and unreasonable after all. Perhaps they had a better version of truth than his people did.

  The Immortal One gained his feet. Grayish skin twisted into a feral mask of hatred as Bental advanced on Trystan. His father. His fucking father. The thought made him sick, made the taste of blood in his mouth welcome. None of the demon’s offspring should be allowed to live…

  “Tobiath!” Kamara yelled in his ear, demanded he hold on, focus on her. “Stay with me! Trystan won’t last long.”

  Tobiath saw Trystan struggle to his feet out of the corner of his eye. No, his brother would not last much longer.

  “Do you trust me?”

  “I love you.” Beat. Skip. Breathe. It all hurt like hell.

  “Mind to mind, Toby. Say it.”

  What did he have to lose? His heart? His soul? His life? All already belonged to her. And once Trystan was gone, Kamara would be alone. She would lose. “Mind to mind.”

  Mara raised a hand, ran it through his hair, then slid her open palm over his shoulder and chest. “Heart to heart.”

  “Heart to heart.” It took every ounce of will just to force his mouth to form the words, to push enough air through his lungs to speak at all. Beat. Skip. His right leg collapsed and he fell, jerked to a halt by the iron around his right wrist. Pain twisted up his arm, but without the piercing shock he expected. Numbness settled in. Cold tendrils of death danced over his skin.

  Reverently, she lifted one bloodstained finger to her mouth and took his essence into herself. “Blood to blood.”

  “I’m dying. Don’t…” He didn’t want to do this, bind her and then depart this life. All hope for her to have a husband, children, would be gone. She’d walk to death’s door with him.

  Perhaps she would defeat Bental first. He had faith. Kamara was powerful beyond his comprehension. But a healer his Mara was not. Even if she were able to heal with magic, he was Immune. No one could stop the inevitable now. He would not weaken her with his dying breath.

  “Blood to blood, Tobiath. Say it. Say it!”

  “No. I love you.”

  “Tobiath.” Beside him, the old woman spoke for the first time in hours. She too was dying. The battle Bental fought with Trystan sped her deterioration; every ounce of power Bental spent was hers. Crystal clear and proud, her gray eyes, identical to his own, searched for and held his gaze. His mother. After all this time. And all he could feel was numb. “Do it. Unlock your power, son. I didn’t leave you with the Sentinals all those years ago for nothing. Destroy him. It’s your destiny.”

  Destiny. He’d always hated the damn word, but his mother’s dying eyes demanded he grant her last request. Tobiath turned back to Kamara, to the love and terror in her dark eyes. He would simply have to live. “Blood to blood. I bind you to me.”

  “I bind you to me.”

  Within him, something shifted like a thousand tiny tumblers clicking into place. Purple flames licked at the insides of his body. The healing heat grew until he was branded, burned from the inside out.

  Kamara rose to her tiptoes and unlocked his wrists with the key Trystan had given her. She caught him and eased him down the wall when his legs buckled. He did feel stronger, but his heart still struggled, his lungs couldn’t get enough air, his blood still burned with magic.

  Kamara knelt beside him and kissed him, hard and fast on the mouth. “Let’s give this bastard what he wants, shall we?”

  “And what is that?”

  “A taste of me.”

  His lips twisted into a smile. Mara laid a hand on his shoulder and the jolt of magic would’ve thrown him back if he hadn’t already been sitting against the wall. As usual, his body absorbed the magic, funneled it, tightened it into a powerful stream to be shot back into the universe. Normally he had no control over where it went. Now…

  Mara traced the line of his shoulder, wandered over his chest to make sure his wound was gone. Satisfied, she placed her hand in his and stood. He rose beside her as realization dawned. Awe immobilized him for a heartbeat. Her smile lit her eyes, shone with trust, the gift she’d given him. He could destroy her now, feed off her essence as Bental did. She would be helpless to deny him.

  As if she read his mind, she turned those sexy-as-hell bedroom eyes on him and smiled. “I love you, Tobiath.”

  He’d die before anyone ever hurt her again. Immortality wasn’t worth the price she’d have to pay. “Let’s take him out.”

  “Yes.”

  Hand in hand, they turned to the battle raging between Trystan and Bental. No more than a few minutes had passed since the fight began, but Trystan was battered and bloody. A grudging respect solidified as Trystan climbed to his feet and fired back, time and again. When Tobiath took a step forward, Trystan’s smile was pure relief. “It’s about time.”

  Trystan raced for them, flying through the air with Bental right behind him. Just as he reached them, he tossed the staff to Tobiath. “Your turn.”

  Tobiath grabbed it out of the air and smiled at the energy running along its length, at the ability it would give him to focus his will.

  “No!” Bental stopped flying halfway to them; he dropped to the floor and retreated several steps. “Jazmyn, what have you done?”

  “Told them your secret.” Jazmyn’s cackle was as unnerving as Bental’s. “Goddess bless you both, my boys. You found each other, just as I knew you would.”


  “What are you talking about?” Bental backed up another step. The flame dimmed and flickered in his blue eyes until Tobiath could see doubt and fear behind them.

  “Oh, yes. They are both yours. Both Immune. Both of my blood.” Jazmyn’s eyes rolled up into her head and she laughed, the sound hollow and bitter. “Both strong enough to destroy you.”

  “Jazmyn, no!” Bental rushed toward the back wall, but it was too late. Her soul floated away and her body fell slack against the iron binding her. Dead.

  Desperate for another energy source, Bental rushed to Zira but Trystan got in his way and punched the older man in the gut, doubling him over. “You’re done here, Bental. Zira is already bound to me.”

  Horror took root in Bental’s gaze when magic no longer answered his summons.

  Tobiath advanced on him, ready to strike. The old man’s true name flowed into his consciousness, one last gift from his mother. “Bentalzine Slarinth, I, Crown Sentinal Z-4, pronounce you and Jazmyn, fourth Daughter of the House of Law, guilty of kidnapping and attempted murder of a member of the royal house of Anthea. The punishment is death.”

  “Not so fast, son.” Bental pulled two blasters from his thighs and pointed them at Tobiath and Kamara. “I still need a mate. Kamara and I will get along just fine after you die.”

  Kamara surged through him then, pulling the energy with her as she’d done so long ago in his rooms. But this time she gave it to him, sank into his consciousness until they were one mind, one heart, and one soul. He saw her plan clearly and directed the magic toward Bental, into the old sorcerer’s body, into every cell. When he felt millions of tiny links to Bental, he opened the floodgates, made his own call for magic, and the power of the whole universe rushed to his aid.

  The surge of power rocked the small room and slammed into Bental’s cells, exploded them all simultaneously, like a million tiny bombs, in one blinding flash and burn of magic. When the smoke cleared, there was nothing left. Not a single hair of the ancient evil remained.