Dimensions

by Krystyne Price

  “You…used these devices. On people.”

  He nodded once.

  She took a long, shaky breath and moved to another device, one that resembled the iron mask she’d once seen in a movie. And yet another, this she knew to be a device similar to the Rack. Of her own volition she moved through the next doorway into an even larger room surrounded by tiny cells, their doors swung open in haste.

  He slowly followed and watched as she examined each device, each tool, and each instrument of torture. She picked up a double-edged knife stained with decades of the blood of hapless victims. Her hand shook.

  “How?” she asked, voice as tremulous as her hand. “How could the man who made such love to me do this?”

  He turned from her, shoulders drooping. Vasan felt something he had never felt before: shame. He was ashamed to show this, his legacy, to her. Ashamed of the life he had led. Never before had he regretted anything but now he did. He regretted it all.

  But it could be changed. All of it could be changed. If she were willing. He felt her hand upon his and looked down to find not the hatred or repulsion he’d expected, but rather acceptance. Belief. Faith.

  “I don’t ever want you to be the way you were again,” she said. “I want you to be my Tao, to be the human you want so desperately to be. I want all of this gone, never to have happened, never to return.”

  Hope swelled within him.

  “Bind me to you, Tao. Bind me to you now.”

  He frowned and shook his head. “Not here. Not now.” He looked around the torture chamber. “This is not the place for someone such as you to be bound.”

  “I have a feeling…”

  “What feeling?”

  “I have a terrible feeling, Tao, that you won’t have another chance. That we won’t have another chance.”

  He closed his eyes and knew instantly she was right. Even now, Jal’gonnoth hunted him. Even now she was coming. His eyes snapped open. He grabbed her hand and they ran back to the steps, ascended to the main floor. Quickly to the second and then third, moving so fast she panted from the exertion.

  Taking her into a room on the far left side of the grand hall, he turned on the light and closed the door behind them, locking it. Looking around, he made his way to a tall set of tiny drawers, pulling one open, taking something out; pulling open a second and removing two items. Pulling a third and taking yet two more things.

  Turning to the low, long dresser opposite the bed, he laid the items out. A single two-by-two square of parchment paper, an old-fashioned quill pen. A vial of dove’s blood and two white candles. A spool of red string and a small brown jar of rose oil. And one simple book of matches.

  Using the quill pen, he stooped over the parchment and wrote her first name as she leaned in to see what he was doing. He looked at her after finishing and she read Jane Eyre Marsh. Then, at the bottom of the paper, he wrote his name: Tao Vasan Naran.

  He picked up the paper and waved it in the air until the dove’s blood had dried. Turning it

  over, he took the two small white candles and placed them in the square. He picked up the spool of red string, unraveled a length of over twelve inches, and used his teeth to cut it.

  Stopping to look her in the eyes, his hands hesitated, then dropped to his sides. “Putri saya, I must know that you are certain. Certain that this is what you wish, not knowing what the outcome may be.”

  She placed her hand on his chest and nodded, smiling. “The pain you and others have endured for so many years must be stopped, Tao. If I can help achieve that,” she stopped, looked down, then back up at him with unshed tears in her eyes. “If you will come through this as the human Tao you could have been without Jal’gonnoth, it will all be worth it.”

  He swallowed and nodded before lifting his hands and continuing his work. He wrapped it around the two candles until he reached the top, and then continued wrapping a total of seven times. This done, he tied the string in a knot, and then held the candles in his left hand. With his right, he opened the small jar of rose oil and poured all its contents over the candles, soaking them from top to bottom, and ensuring the red string was dripping wet.

  He turned to face her here in what had once been his opulent bedroom. Gone were the curtains and sheets of silk, gone were the ornate decorations. Gone was everything but the mattress and a single worn blanket. It was here that he would bind her. Here that she would become his. She ran her fingers through her hair until she held just a single strand, and pulled it from her head. Handing it to him, she watched as he wound it ‘round and ‘round the tops of the two candles.

  Closing his eyes, he made himself feel her throughout every cell of his body. He pictured only her face, her hair, and her eyes. Then he looked down and lit the two candles, standing them carefully upon the dresser. He took her hand and led her to the bed.

  “We must wait until the candles burn out,” he said by way of explanation. “Then we must bury it on the palace grounds.”

  She nodded and crawled into bed, beckoning him with her arms. “Come to me,” she said. “Rest now.”

  He obeyed, succumbing to sleep at last.

  * * *

  When the first rays of sun streamed through the window, he awoke to find her in his arms. He allowed himself the luxury of a few moments watching her, eyes traveling from the golden hair down to the tanned skin of her face, over her slowly moving chest and coming back up to rest on her lips. She loved him. It didn’t seem real. Yet it was.

  What if he couldn’t change anything? What if, no matter undertaking this journey to the past, he continued to walk the only path he’d ever known? Would he hurt Jane, either the one he had already killed or this one he now held in his arms? As the years passed, would he be able to live without the urges that had gripped him from an early age?

  Carefully extracting himself from her arms, he stole to the dresser where the binding he’d made was fully melted. Wax, parchment and string were molded into a circular cooled mass. He picked it up and placed it in his pocket. Turning to look once more at his sleeping bond-mate, he silently moved across the room and through the door.

  Halfway across the cleared perimeter he stopped and looked back at the palace. It was foreign to him now, as though a bad memory he couldn’t be rid of, yet could hardly recall. He moved one step further and used a nearby rock to dig a hole six inches deep. Taking the binding from his pocket, he held it for a few moments and sent a silent wish into the ether that this really would work. Kneeling and placing it into the hole, he covered it back up, smoothing the dirt and securing the spot with the rock. He knew that now, it could not be moved. No one but he could dig that up again.

  He jogged the last few meters to the metal bunker head. Keying in the code only he knew, the titanium door slid to the side, revealing a second, locked door. He reached into his jeans pocket, noticing for the first time how awful he smelled. Being without the powers to which he’d become so accustomed was going to take getting used to.

  Jal’gonnoth had kept everything he’d been used to for nearly all his life at bay for weeks now, but what was more confounding to him than the fact that he’d been bereft of them was the fact that he hadn’t missed them. Except for now, he mused, as he smelled himself. Before, he had only bathed as part of rituals. Now it was going to be a much more frequent requirement.

  He unlocked the door. And as though the sun itself had been pulled from the sky, everything went black.

  * * *

  “Vincent!” Lori cried, coming to a dead stop and jerking her hand from his. “Vincent, wait!”

  Without warning, she vanished as though she’d never been there to begin with. Vincent shouted for his brother. “What? What is it?” Steve yelled as he, his father and Johnny came racing up the sidewalk toward him.

  Suddenly Vincent could see something in the air in front of him, like watching a movie. “It’s Jane…she’s in our dimension! She’s…” he closed her eyes and furrowed his brow as his family reached him. “She’s w
ith Vasan! I can see them!”

  “Oh, my God, where?” Steve asked. “Where the hell’s Xyza?”

  “They’re…I’m not sure, it’s a great structure, but—oh, my God, Xyza! She’s dead! He killed her!—shit, shit, what the—no!”

  John and Johnny ran up to them. “What’s going on?” John asked.

  Ignoring his father, Steve shook Vincent gently. “What’s happening?”

  Vincent’s shoulders slumped as he shook his head in anguish. “I don’t know, I’ve lost her. Where’s Ibrahim?” Vincent asked of his father. “He knows where Vasan’s home is, doesn’t he?”

  “I’m afraid he doesn’t, son,” John, Sr. replied. “Besides, he stayed back at the estate. He was convinced he’d be of more use there than here.”

  “Our estate,” Vincent breathed, then his eyes snapped open and he grabbed Steve’s forearm tightly. “We must get there! Quickly!”

  John, Sr. nodded. “Let’s go, we’ll all fit in the jet and be home in less than thirty minutes. It’s just beyond the edge of town back that way.”

  Vincent’s blood felt like ice in his veins. He wasn’t sure why he’d seen what he’d seen, he only prayed they wouldn’t be too late. It had been disconcerting to have Xyza standing next to him one second, then seeing her dead the next, no matter whose side she’d been on or what her angle truly had been. As he and his family boarded the jet, and his father revved the engines preparing it for taxiing down the old road that would serve as a makeshift runway, Vincent prayed for his Jane’s safety with every fiber of his being, more than he ever had before.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  When he came to, he smelled the sweet sharp scent of cinnamon, the intoxicating aroma of patchouli, hibiscus and jejarum. He recognized the perfume of orchid and fuchsia, and thought he detected rose as well. Some of it was coming from his own skin, while some was incense that hung thick in the air.

  He felt dizzy, and it took a moment for him to open his eyes and make the room stop spinning. The room. What room was this? It was then he felt the leather straps. It was then he realized, as goose bumps dotted his flesh, that he was nude. It was then he heard her call his name. Whipping his head to the side, he cried out when he saw her.

  She, too, had been stripped and bathed. Framed by golden ringlets, her face showed her fright as wide eyes stared. He was surrounded by a ring of fire not yet a foot high, and she was shackled spread-eagle to the far wall. How he longed to lay with her again in the anonymity of the camp. How he yearned to feel her soft flesh beneath his, to feel her surround him and flow through him like the sweet music of her flute.

  But this was cold, hard reality. He was trapped. She was trapped.

  And they were not alone.

  He turned to look at the entry to this room and struggled against the straps that held him in place as a sight even more horrific approached. She was the walking dead. She was disgusting and yet somehow alluring. Pieces of flesh hung from her face, dark stains covered her clothing.

  “Xyza,” he whispered.

  A laugh filled the room. “Xyza is gone.” The voice was distinctly male. “Her body will be used to carry out the ritual.”

  “What ritual?” He continued to struggle, flexing his arms and legs, trying desperately to free himself.

  The one that binds all three of you to me forever!”

  Wind from nowhere began to blow the former Shadow Priestess’ robes all around. The ring of fire surrounding him billowed to the ceiling, encasing him in a wall of flame. That was when he knew for certain who had done this; who had possessed Xyza’s body and meant to take his and Jane’s…and their child’s…very souls.

  Rilgith, Prince of the Cherubim. He was the father of Jal’gonnoth and the one to attend their ceremonial pact that many years ago. He was also the one who had enabled Xyza for so long to remain human and yet have the unique connection to the underworld that she had enjoyed.

  He was going to have them.

  He could no longer see Jane, but he could hear her screams.

  He closed his eyes and thought of the journey they had shared, both early on in life and then later, through her witnessing certain parts of his life and then later, when they had somehow met again as strangers. Even then she had welcomed him. She had trusted him. She loved him. Their union was a gift he never dreamed he would have.

  The gift Rilgith now meant to destroy.

  He could no longer stop the tears that streamed from his eyes, pooling in his ears, flying from his face as his head thrashed side to side. She loved him. His Jane, she loved him.

  Being human.Her body.

  Freedom.Her laughter.

  Righting the wrongs.He loved her.

  His eyes snapped open. He loved her. She may not have been his Jane, but she was a Jane and he’d fallen for her as surely as he knew his own name. He had never loved anything or anyone but himself since his mother died. But the thought and the feeling came to him as easily and as quickly as though it were more natural than breathing. He loved her.

  There was only one thing he could do. He steeled himself for what he knew would be the last time. In ancient Chinese he began to say the same words Xyza had always said at the beginning of the possession ritual.

  “I pray thee the power to conceive in my mind and to execute that which I desire to do, the end which I would attain to be the possession of body, mind and soul by she who owns them all.”

  That had served to anger Rilgith, if his shrieks were any indication. The flames surrounding Vasan became thicker and higher. Jane cried out his name.

  “I entreat thee Jal’gonnoth to manifest within me that you may give me true and faithful service, so that I may accomplish my desired end, provided that it is my destiny.”

  The wind whipped through the wall of flames, blowing so hard he could barely hear himself think. He took a deep breath and began to feel again what he used to feel. The power. The certainty. The longing. The need.

  Trembling in anticipation, he allowed his mind free of its confines, inviting her to unite with him once more. He took a deep breath and the smell of jasmine mixed with a myriad of other spices and flowers filtered through him, filling him with sweet desire.

  “Jal’gonnoth!” he cried. “I give myself to you!”

  His body vibrated, then began to convulse. She was within him.

  He let out a howl that shook the very walls. The leather straps that held his body were no match for the power of his demon. He rose and walked through the heat of the fire as though it weren’t there, coming face-to-face with Rilgith.

  “Father,” he screeched, though the voice was not his. “You will not have him! He is mine!”

  “Foolish child!” The body of Xyza spoke, Rilgith’s voice booming throughout the palace. “He broke your pact with her!”

  The ring of fire went completely out and Vasan turned to see Jane, trembling and covered with sweat. Her eyes were red from crying and from the combination of smoke and incense. When she saw him, she fought the shackles that bound her so tightly.

  “Tao!”

  One moment he was standing near Rilgith. The next he was by Jane’s side.

  “Tell me,” Jal’gonnoth hissed through Vasan’s mouth, “why I should protect the one who took you from me!”

  His face softened into the man…the human…Jane had come to know. “Because if you will release her from this place, I will give myself to you for all eternity.”

  Her screams of “No!” blended with one crying out the same word from the chamber entrance.

  But Jal’gonnoth had made up her mind and her laugh rang out, echoing off the concrete walls. “It is too late, Hakim! The deal has been struck!”

  Hakim? Vasan turned on heel stared in disbelief. Ibrahim…was there? But how? Why? Then he turned back to face Jane. It didn’t matter now. The deed was done. As long as Jal’gonnoth kept her word, Rilgith would never be able to harm Jane. He turned again to face his brother. Vasan placed his hands upon the older man’s shoulde
rs, fighting to keep control.

  Ibrahim’s hands rose to cover his brother’s. “Tao, if only you had told me.”

  He shook his head, sweat spraying in all directions. “Listen to me, Hakim. She is innocent. I love your daughter with everything I am, but she must be kept from me at all costs. You must…see that she is…” He fought against Jal’gonnoth. Only a few seconds more, that was all he required.

  “You stupid child!” squealed Rilgith from across the room as he fell to his knees in Xyza’s body and began ripping decaying flesh from her bones. “He has beaten you, he has already beaten you!”

  Vasan’s mouth opened as wide as his eyes, body thrashing uncontrollably. “What have you done?” Jal’gonnoth screeched two octaves above any sound the human voice could make.

  “Help him, Father!” Jane cried from her place on the wall. She gasped in surprise as she watched the man she knew to be Tao’s brother raise his hands and the shackles at her wrists and ankles fall away. She came crashing to the floor and was instantly at the side of the man some part of her loved. A part of her she could feel peeling painfully away.

  His skin seemed to bubble. Something was inside him, pushing outward, something alive…something unholy. She could feel the evil pouring off him in waves and looked to Ibrahim. “Please, my father” she cried, wrapping her arms around her bare breasts. “Please help him.”

  “He does not need my help, daughter” Ibrahim said softly, moving around Vasan’s convulsing form to take her by the arms. He pulled her to her feet, took off the knee-length black coat he wore and nodded for her to put it on.

  “But she has him! He’s going to die!”

  Barely had she gotten her arms through the sleeves when a garish gray figure, barely more than formed wisps of smoke, emerged from his body before her very eyes. Open-mouthed she stared as the smoke coalesced into something resembling a head, a body and arms with two bright red dots where eyes might have been. Then out of nowhere a mouth appeared, opening impossibly wide and shrieking so loudly she and Ibrahim had to cover their ears, wincing as the sound cut right into their minds.