by L M Adams
“We can beseech Anubis…”
I look to Lucien, “Isn’t he in the Chamber of Gods?”
He shakes his head no, “But I do not remember truly…”
“Goddess, there’s so many down there… What we need is someone on the other side of the veil to pull them into the afterlife after they’re released.”
“Lucien can do that with the power of the seal! He can banish them.”
“So you want to break the seal, Lucien absorbs the power and performs a mass banishment on thousands of spirits, with no training, all in the span of a few minutes?”
Jack sighs shaking his head no.
“And you call my plans bad.” I rub my neck thinking, “It’s a spell keeping them in the caverns, a spell that was cast with the seal… blood magic more than likely – we need to put the spirits to rest, one by one if we have to.”
Lucien huffs, “We need Kitty.”
I hum agreeing, “I’m thinking… we may need to bring everyone back with us.”
“What do you mean, Wench?”
I sigh and look at Lucien, he’s lounging in one of the chairs, “If we do this… we’re going to have to do something to give magic back to the people – we can’t strip them of their connection of the gods and then give them nothing in return.”
He raises an eyebrow, “Are you suggesting we attack Ra’suá?”
“No,” I shake my head no, I’m not really sure we’d win. The Kindred is at its strongest right now – “I’m saying, lets breed magic back into the world. What happens when you mix supernatural with human?”
“You get Bâtardi.”
“Who are…” I lead.
“Usually come out as… witches, warlocks… empaths.”
I nod, “The men complain about not having enough women, maybe some of the women of Ra’suá in the future would want to come here… they could have a good life, be accepted and loved here.”
Jack sighs, “Ambitious…”
“It happens anyway, Jack – some of the supernaturals of Ra’suá will flee back to the human world…”
“Yeah in another four thousand years or so!”
I shrug… “So we speed things up a bit. Some of the supernaturals and smaller gods and goddesses are still here, maybe we can coax them out of hiding. The lycan races are the heaviest population of supernaturals, the wolves and the cat species… I think there are a few fae that make their home in the ocean. The Kindred has been gone for years… they won’t be back…”
“Until you start raising gods and goddesses… breeding witches and warlocks by the hundreds!”
“I’m trying to find a way to get you what you want, but all you do is shit on my plans!” I snap.
Lucien stands, “Let us take a break, I cannot handle discourse between us right now… not today.”
It wouldn’t be right to argue, not after what happened with Keyon, Lucien is right.
“It is getting late, let us sleep on this, the souls will hold another day.”
Jack sighs but nods, “Okay.” He goes over to Lucien and kisses him… completely spontaneously.
Lucien hums with appreciation as Jack pulls back, “And what was that for, Bloodsucker?”
Jack shrugs, “I just really wanted to kiss you… do I still have rights as your husband?”
“Always.”
“I wish to claim them,” Jack looks at me, “you as well Jaevia… I will taste the sun and moon tonight.”
I look to Lucien a little wide eyed… is Jack about to dom both of us?
He walks over to the bedroom door and stands beside it, “Now,” He looks between us.
Oh yum.
The night air soon rings with the screams of a god and a goddess as their husband takes control of their flesh and hearts. He handles us like a well-trained team of horseflesh… goddess, I wish he’d used a bit on me.
“God, you two are delicious,” Jack kneels between Lucien and I looking down at us. We’re laid out on the bed, our skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat, our bodies completely drained… he has licked, sucked, fucked, and stroked every drop of pleasure from us both – he demanded it all, and gave no reprieve.
The night air is cold as it blows across our bodies, but the fire that burns between us keeps us warm enough.
“You didn’t come,” I murmur softly as Lucien runs a hand between Jack’s thighs, inching towards his hard cock.
Jack stops Lucien’s hand, “Not today.”
“Why are you punishing yourself, Capaneus?”
“I’m not…”
“You are,” I whisper, looking into the dark depths of his blue eyes.
“Confess, Capaneus,” Lucien orders him low. “No lies, no secrets.”
“I didn’t believe in you…” He whispers his sin as he looks at Lucien. “I didn’t believe in you both…” He hangs his head.
Lucien sighs deeply, “Aye… and you left our bed.”
He nods, his head still hanging, “I didn’t take care of our love the way I was supposed to. I didn’t believe in it enough – I’m always ready to be betrayed… to feel those feelings… and you two don’t deserve that from me.”
“I am glad you finally see this,” Lucien growls low, “You leave my bed again without permission and I’ll take you to the breaking.”
“Yes, Lucien.” He whimpers, “I deserve to have my ring taken.”
“No you don’t, you never have to take it off – never again.”
“Please hurt me!” He screams.
“Calm,” Lucien growls… “Calm.”
“Oh Goddess, I feel sick with guilt, please help me.”
“We will,” I whisper gently.
Lucien nods, “Now put your hands behind your back.”
“Yes…” Jack nods, “Yes, Master.” He grabs his wrists behind his back as Lucien inches up to Jack’s cock. It’s bobbing with anticipation. He wants to hurt; he needs to hurt.
“Who do you belong to?” Lucien takes hold of Jack’s hard cock, stroking it lightly.
“Lucien and Jaevia,” Jack murmurs low.
I run my nails up his thigh, “Does the slave need to be punished?”
The tip of his cock spills clear precome out of the tip as the tears fall, his bottom lip shakes uncontrollably.
“Please, Mistress!”
I cup his hot heavy sack gently as Lucien begins stroking him.
“I’m going to,” He closes his eyes tight, “Please, I don’t deserve it, Lucien – please don’t make me! I don’t want to feel good!”
But we do, we make every bit of hurt feel good. We forgive our husband for losing faith because he came back, in the end, he remembered where his heart belonged. He will always belong with us.
He sleeps in the center, his body bruised and battered and drained of pleasure. His mind and heart relaxed, Lucien and I relaxed as well. We lost Keyon today and found that even still, we had what it took to make it… goddess help us, we’ll never need to learn this lesson again.
“Raja!” Someone pounds on the door dragging my thoughts from oblivion.
Lucien gets up, striding to the door, unashamed of his nakedness, “He opens it to a frantic Nassor.”
“Come quickly, Hari… come now.”
I feel the blood magic prickle across my skin.
“What is happening?” I ask looking to Nassor as we step out of our rooms.
He leads us to the front of the palace, towards Apdedmak’s tower. Lucien is carrying his sword; he never carries it unless he means to kill something.
“The queen of the nosferatu… all day her and her people have been preaching in the streets… wearing their red cloaks… damning the people, calling us the filth of the gods, the false peoples… that we got what was coming and more blood will be spilled if we do not let them free of the curse. It was not the time for this, not after the death of a young son!”
I nod, that is bad timing… yet it gets worse.
In the night death came again… Sepa’s son, Dārayauš
, is falling to the jaws of Ammut the devourer – the nosferatu’s curse has made claim to his Akh.
Nassor explains she’s taken him to the temple of Set, people have gathered and chant the words that we see painted on the walls.
“A son for a sun! A son for a sun!”
The people are holding the cursed ones responsible for Keyon’s death… after all, they’d influenced the boy – made him believe it was time for their freedom when everyone knows they still have the generations of Apedemak to serve. The young lion has only just returned, how do they believe their curse is paid?
No…. no… the cursed ones owe the people their service, it is they who have broken faith.
We rush through the palace, through the throng of people marching and chanting the words again and again.
“A son for a sun! A son for a sun!”
They cheer for the damnation of a young boy’s soul.
When it starts to fall apart, it falls apart quickly.
153
Jaevia – Nosferatu
The morning sun is brighter than it should be, the concourse of gods is being filled with people, all of them marching to the temple of Set, to the unclean ones.
Nassor and Lucien push the people out of the way until we finally make it to the bottom of the temple stairs.
Sepa, in all of her glory stands at the top of the steps, in front of the temple of Set. The sun is bright but there is a cold wind making her red dress billow wildly. Behind her, the cursed ones, all dressed in red, every man and woman that was in the city.
Laid out before her on the ground, her son, in a black funeral shroud… his breathing shallow.
I look to Lucien, my heart pounding in my chest, “Tell me you feel that.”
He nods, “Powerful majic.”
“What is she doing?” I look to Jack.
He shakes his head, “I do not know. Perhaps trying to heal him with her magic?”
“She can do that?”
“I don’t know, Jae. Dārayauš had the power of necromancy, she may have some form of it as well.”
“But he’s not dead yet,” I whisper as the hairs at my nape begin to prickle with forewarning.
“Stop her, Luey…” I have a sickening feeling spreading in my gut… this isn’t right… something isn’t right.
Luey moves to take a step up the stairs but a shield of power stops him in his tracks. He looks back to me, horror covering his face.
“You have no power here false god!” She rages.
Jack steps up, “Sepa! Whatever you are doing…”
“You had your chance! But you’d rather be a catamite than a king.”
“We can help! We want to help!” I yell, pleading with her with my eyes.
“No more words!”
Lucien tries again. “I will release your people! You have my word! I will take on the power of the seal and I will call your curse done!” Lucien roars. “No more death! There does not need to be anymore death here!”
“And we are to go on?! As if the thousand years of slavery never happened?! I say no! I say today you shall all pay!”
She’s beyond being able to reason with. I look around, we need someone who can break down her shield. Where is she getting this magic from?! Is it form the souls of her people?!
“Nassor!” The soldier looks at me, fear in his eyes, “Go find Henenu.”
“Aye,” He nods and begins pushing through the crowd. It’s a crush… I doubt he’ll be able to make it back in time.
I look up into the sky as the moon begins to cover the sun and dark clouds gather around, a crack of thunder rings out.
“Move back!” I yell needing the people to move so that we can try to get through. But people are packed in.
“Hear me children of Atum and Isis and Ishtar, hear me people of the tribes of Alkebulan!” Sepa’s voice echoes with power, cold and aching power.
The sun falls… it’s darker than it should be for a normal eclipse. I turn back to face her, my heart in my throat… no – please goddess no. Wait, please wait… we want to help you!
“Blood for Blood – my son was innocent and still he knew nothing but the bitterness of your world!”
“We, the forgotten children of Isis shall live in your shadow no more! We shall rule this world and the blood of mankind shall water our dark garden.”
“Hear me one and all – I curse your lands, and your rivers and oceans. I curse your mothers and fathers and daughters and sons. I curse you to be broken from the quick – and split from the root. Let the sands of time and memory consume you until none of this remains. Choke on the bitter ashes of strife and be torn from your lands one by one, beaten and broken until you are forgotten. I curse you all to wretched damnation until this debt is paid in full!”
She looks directly at Lucien, holding out two curled fingers, “I reject your offer of freedom, for vengeance would be sweeter!”
I stand unable to do anything but watch as she opens her red robe, revealing her body, naked and glorious. Smooth skin, full breasts with hard and perky nipples, her womanhood shielded with dark delicate curls. She kneels before her son and picks up a large wicked dagger… the Dagger of Kris. She holds up the long, wicked, curved blade and drives it down into his chest…
Killing her own son.
“My Dark Goddess,” blood magic… dark blood magic with the sacrifice of an innocent.
She throws back her head letting out a mournful wailing and holds out her arms. One of her people steps forward with a sword and takes her head between this moment and the next. No hesitation, no doubt. The slice is clean and fast cutting through skin and bone and muscle without any resistance. She blinks once more before her head falls from her body to tumble down the stairs.
Before I can process her death, another head falls then another and another and another as they sacrifice every single man and woman at the temple of Set – giving her curse power, untold power – there is no magic like blood magic.
The last two men stand, swords in their hands, they hold them up to each other’s necks, staring into each other’s eyes… together and as one they both raise their swords and bring them down in perfect tandem… taking each other’s heads at the very same moment. No hesitation, no doubt… the headless bodies fall like puppets with their strings cut… and still I can’t really process what I’m watching.
It’s too much, too ghastly and all of it carries the feel of magic that should never be cast.
There’s so much blood pouring from the headless bodies, it begins dripping from the landing to the temple, down the stairs bit by bit. The shield of power falls and I feel a rolling power flow out of the temple. It smells of cherry wine, it smells of Vayrá followed by a gust of chilling wind. The river of blood spills down the stairs of the temple, as if there is no end to it, none at all.
I turn from the temple to look out at the mall, people are running, screaming. The smell of fear and blood rolling over the land. The earth below our feet shakes and rumbles, blood begins rising from the stone, pouring from the cracks between the pavers. Warm and sticky it covers my sandal clad feet… I can feel the power in it. The earth bleeds, like a festering wound that’s been opened wide.
We were the hot lance.
The people are frantic, fear riding them, chasing them. They slip and fall into the blood, it splashes up onto their faces, into their mouths… covering their flesh, clinging to their souls. They scream for someone to save them… but it’s every man and woman for themselves. There are too many people here, confused and afraid – pure pandemonium. The magic of the blood seems to feed on the energy, rising faster and faster reinforcing its purpose.
Lucien’s roar makes me turn to him just as he falls to his knees into the blood. The back of his shirt burns away, black cinder ash floats in the cold air, revealing his stigmata glowing black, blood seeping from the mosaic of the lion.
“Luey,” I whisper and hurry to kneel beside him, wanting to keep his face above the blood. I turn my
head, “Jack!” I yell above the roar of the people screaming for help, screaming for Apedemak… screaming for life… for their god.
Jack looks towards me, absolute horror covering his features.
“Lucien,” he whispers and trudging through the blood to reach us, pushing people to the side.
He moves to the other side of Lucien and takes his arm, “get him up. We have to get him out of here!”
We pull the large man to his feet, but Jack doesn’t turn to try and get Lucien out of here…. He’s staring up towards the top of the stairs.
“Jaevia,” Jack whispers and I turn to look up at the temple.
“The body is moving….” I whisper, no not the decapitated ones, the body of the boy. The body of Dārayauš.
“No…” I whisper, voice cracking as I realize what I should have seen all along, “no,” I whimper.
“What?” Jack asks.
“It’s our fault.”
“What is?!”
“Everything…” I whisper and look back as the young dead boy who isn’t dead anymore, stands.
Covered in the blood that flows, running down the stairs of the temple, a ghoulish picture of the beyond. Glowing eyes of silver fire from a young face masked in red… even from here I can feel his power. With every step down the stairs the young boy gets taller, bigger, older… until Azazael stands before us, wearing a long bloody black thobe.
I open myself to the Eventide – to the sun and the moon and for once I do not draw that moon power through Jack – I don’t need his connection nor his permission.
I. Am. Goddess.
The heavens above crack with thunder as the power connects and flashes down to the earth as purple lightning.
I step in front of my men, as their wife, their queen and the baddest bitch around.
“You will not have him!” I rage at Azazael, laying my claim. Lucien is mine.
The fallen one snaps his fingers, his clothes turn from the long thobe to a suit of pure white, as handsome as the devil himself and as seductive as me. The blood of the curse flows over his legs and feet but doesn’t stain his suit at all… everywhere but at his side, high up…. everywhere but where I stabbed him with the Dagger of Kris. A smell of burning metal and brimstone is pouring from him.
