Kiss of Light

by Eve Langlais

  They needed better weapons.

  Or magic.

  She held out her blade and willed power into it. The same kind she’d used for the worm. The blade glowed.

  Darting towards the giant lizard beast, Erela aimed to slice, only the thing evaded her blow and ran past her.

  Towards Mustafa.

  His eyes widened, and rather than fight, he turned and ran. The stairs in the far corner led down, and he disappeared with a jump.

  The lizard followed as the wind screamed louder. The gale force billowed in the room, whipping her hair and sending objects flying.

  “It’s here to kill him,” she yelled. Someone doing their best to clean up a loose end. “We need to get to Mustafa before that thing does.”

  Titus didn’t argue, simply ran for the stairs with her quickly following. They didn’t really have a choice at any rate. The wind filled the room, the sand stinging skin, and it would only get worse.

  The stairs were lit with sconces as they wound downwards, the hall unbroken until they suddenly reached the next floor. A dining level. The room empty save for a massive table of gleaming wood.

  They heard a distant shout and ran on, descending even more stairs, paying scant mind to the various floors as they wound deeper into the tower.

  It didn’t take the shrill screaming to realize she’d not run fast enough.

  Rounding the final corner, they came across the lizard gulping down the last pieces of Mustafa. It hissed at them.

  So, she hissed back.

  Titus muttered, “Is that wise?”

  “It wasn’t here for me.” Which gave her an idea. “If someone sent it…”

  She advanced on the lizard, wondering if she could see the spell compelling it. Perhaps follow it.

  Lifting her hands, she pulled in the magic like Desmond had taught her. Siphoned a whole bunch, then thrust it at the lizard with a single command: Show me.

  It showed her all right. Its insides.

  The force of her magic blasted the lizard into chunks and kept on going, blowing a hole in the tower.

  When the dust cleared, Desmond stood in the new doorway and uttered a wry, “I think Ha’el needs a new tribunal member.”

  Which gave Erela an idea.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The robe fit well enough, but Desmond disliked the scent of it. “It smells of him,” he grumbled.

  “Good. The more you appear as Mustafa, the better. At least until we get more names.”

  Erela was the one who’d suggested it. If no one supposedly knew the tribunal members, then who would know there’d been a switch?

  “Having a robe doesn’t get me to a meeting,” Desmond pointed out.

  “Yet obviously there’s a way of communicating about it.” Titus roamed the bedroom of the late Mustafa, lifting and setting objects down.

  “Could be they always meet on the same day. Same place,” Erela offered.

  Desmond shook his head. “Place maybe, but other than that, the tribunal meets only in times of need.”

  “Such as the forsaking of people,” she muttered darkly.

  “I’d say Adara returning is grounds for calling one.” Titus turned from the dresser, a wooden ball in hand.

  “What happened to keeping my presence a secret?”

  “I imagine word has emerged of your return. There is no longer any point in hiding.” Desmond paced. “We’ll need to act fast if we wish to draw the culprits out.”

  “I think Titus had the right idea. We need to call a meeting. My return gives the perfect excuse,” Erela stated.

  “The plan is sound, but only if we can find out how Mustafa communicated with the other tribunal members,” Desmond countered. He swept a hand to encompass the room. “In case you’d not noticed, Mustafa has an eclectic collection of artifacts.”

  Many of them oozed magic. Their use? Unknown and not something Desmond wanted to keep on playing with. A seemingly benign object could, if activated, destroy an entire tower and its inhabitants. It had happened to a great-great-uncle of his.

  “One of them must be linked to the tribunal.” She glanced around the room. “Where should we start?”

  “Assuming it’s even here. Could be Mustafa had a hiding spot somewhere else,” the vampire provided unhelpfully.

  But Desmond didn’t think Mustafa was that clever. “Mustafa was lazy. Only rarely travelling outside his tower. If he had an object to signal, he’d keep it close by.”

  “Which brings us back to the problem of it could be anything.” Erela sighed. “A pity he lived alone.”

  “Who says he was alone?” Logan interjected, finally adding to the conversation. “There are two living beings still in this tower.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I can smell them.”

  “Where?” Desmond barked, annoyed the wolf knew when he didn’t.

  Leaving Titus behind to play with the baubles in the bedroom, they followed Logan to the dining level. A door under the stairs opened onto a tight room with a bunk bed and not much else.

  “Come out,” Desmond ordered.

  It took a slow moment before the occupants crawled out, one from under the bed, the other slipping out of a wardrobe. A stocky pair of creatures, their noses huge, eyes just as big, bodies short and squat.

  Logan snorted. “Fucking gnomes. Are you bloody serious?”

  “You know of them?” Desmond asked sharply.

  “Well, yeah. People have them in their gardens and shit. Usually wearing red hats.”

  “That is their attire in their own world. They shouldn’t be here,” Desmond remarked. The races were forbidden from having slaves taken from tribunal member worlds.

  And there was no mistaking their status from their missing tongues, pulled teeth—a common thing done to slaves. No one wanted to listen to them or wave with their teeth at their throat—and the marks of abuse on their skin.

  If word got out that an Ifrit lord had misused one of the gnomm, it would be war. And ugly.

  Closely related to the dwarves, gnomms had magic and were more bloodthirsty. This pair might only chew with gums, but their species was known to eat the bodies of their enemies—without the use of a knife.

  Erela gestured. “You two, you’re free now, but before you go, I need to find something belonging to your old master.”

  The pair cowered, hugging each other.

  “It’s a magical object. He might have used it to contact someone. Receive instructions.”

  Nothing but more hugging.

  Desmond snapped, “My lady asked you a question.”

  “They might not understand,” Logan remarked.

  Staring at the shivering pair, Desmond doubted it. Mustafa must have had a way to get them to obey.

  “They’re terrified,” Erela murmured. She held out her hands, and the pair cringed. “Don’t be scared. We’ve saved you from that wicked man.”

  The head of one of the gnomms cocked. It cooed.

  Erela nodded. “Mustafa is dead. You’re free.”

  This time, both gnomms reacted with head bobs.

  Erela smiled. “Now that we’ve cleared that up, special object? Maybe something he used when he wore a robe?”

  Blank expressions met her query.

  “So much for getting answers. I guess we go back to searching,” Erela said with a sigh.

  Logan left first, saying, “I’ll sniff around and see if I can find anything interesting.”

  Desmond waited for Erela to turn and exit before following. It was only instinct that had him whirling in time to see the knife coming for his back.

  It never made it.

  Erela flung out a hand, and the gnomm slammed into the wall hard enough to crack its head. The body fell to the floor. When the other gnomm snarled, baring her gums and raising her own dagger, Desmond reached out and twisted her neck.

  No one would ever know what had happened here.

  Unless the wolf talked. He glared at Logan, who stared at Erel
a and then the bodies.

  “Don’t look at me like that. They attacked first. We should get started on our search.”

  She left them, and Desmond said softly, “If you can’t accept who she is, walk away.”

  “That’s not Adara.”

  “Adara wasn’t real,” Desmond reminded. “The sooner you accept that, the better.”

  Flashing green eyes met his. “You like this side of her. You’re encouraging it.”

  “Erela is not a wilting flower like the women of your Earth. She is a warrior. Killing is what she does best.”

  “Is this your way of saying you’re made for each other?”

  “Not saying. Stating. Because it is a fact. Erela is my mate.” In all ways that counted for him. And he would betray even his kind for her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The tower proved to be a dead end. After hours of searching—and one incident where Logan had activated a windup toy that apparently enjoyed giving fellatio before it got smashed to bits—they finally admitted defeat.

  There were just too many objects and no idea of how to activate most of them. Nothing with a sign or instructions.

  They finished their search on the bottom level. The night-mares were stabled right outside the hole in the wall, meaning they could leave easily at any time.

  But Erela didn’t want to depart. She wasn’t ready to admit defeat. The answer lay around her somewhere. If only she could spot it.

  The storage room appeared filthy and not often used, the many trunks layered in grime. The shelves sat mostly empty unless rodent droppings and clumps of dust counted. She still checked them over for the third time.

  Titus took a seat on a trunk and said, “We’re never going to find it. We’re wasting our time.”

  “We’ve barely started to look.”

  “Look for what?” Titus spread his hands. “We don’t even know if there is a magical artifact. For all we know, he had a special cell phone.”

  “More likely, he had a spell keyed to the others. If the secret died with Mustafa, then the vampire is right, we are wasting our time,” Desmond said, taking Titus’s side.

  “So, we’re just supposed to give up?” Words bitterly spat. Erela couldn’t help it. To be so close and yet so far…

  “No one said anything about quitting. However, the longer it takes, the more time we give our enemies to regroup. We have to make our decisions effectively, which is why I suggest we return to the castle.

  “To do what? Wait for the next attack?”

  “Then what do you suggest?”

  Desmond asked her opinion. Problem was, she had no real reply. “I don’t know.” Three words expelled with all the frustration she felt. “Mustafa was our one clue, and he told us nothing. Where should we go next? I don’t know. Unless you know another tribunal member?”

  Desmond’s lips turned down. “I don’t. But someone must have knowledge of them. There must be whispers and speculation. I’ll run it by my spy network.”

  “And if they don’t find anything?” Erela grumbled. “I can’t wait.” Not just because the attacks would continue. Her impatience demanded closure. She needed the gaps in her story filled.

  “You seem to have forgotten that we do know a tribunal member,” Titus reminded them.

  “Kyla.” Erela tapped her chin. “Talking to her would mean going back to Earth. And that’s not a trip I’m keen on making.” The sorceress had said that she needed to return to where it all began.

  “We don’t all need to go. We could send just one person,” Desmond remarked.

  “Who?”

  “I’ll do it.” Titus partially raised his hand.

  “It might be dangerous,” Erela noted. She shook her head. “We can’t send him.”

  “Way to emasculate me, dearest,” Titus complained. “I am quite capable of making my way back to our side.”

  “It will take too long. It took us more than a day just to get here.” She paced, agitated by the suggestion even as she recognized the usefulness.

  “He can be there in a few hours, before the portal closes, if I get a roc to drop him.”

  “A roc, as in flying?” Titus made a moue of distaste.

  “It’s how I usually travel.”

  “If you can fly, then why did we take a boat?” Erela complained.

  “Because we had no idea when I’d return, and the rocs don’t hang around waiting.” Desmond said this matter-of-factly, which caused her to make a rude gesture.

  He laughed.

  Titus smiled, too, but pointed out the flaw. “And where are you going to find a roc? We found no nests in the tower.”

  “I have a spell to call one, but I’ll need to be at the top of the tower for it to work.” Desmond uttered a sigh as he eyed the stairs.

  She almost laughed. Her thighs ached, too, from climbing them all day.

  Desmond began the long trudge, only to suddenly bellow, “You coming or not, leech? Because I am not climbing these stairs for nothing.”

  “Now?” Titus blinked. “Um, sure.” He sounded frazzled, which Erela found entertaining. He neared her and, for a moment, appeared unsure. “Are we sure I should leave? I mean, what if you require my aid?” Left unsaid: Don’t you still need me?

  She did, as a friend, someone to count on, someone who would be there for her.

  But, as his friend, she also owed it to him to let him go. She couldn’t give him what he wanted. And she wasn’t sure she should. They were widely different. The tie between them more of friendship than lover.

  It wasn’t fair to him. Which meant, she had to set him free.

  Erela hugged Titus close. “Be careful.” She kissed his cheek and tugged at the mark. Severed it, the tie between them snapping, easing the chill spot he used to have inside her.

  As Titus pulled away, he gasped and looked at her. Sorrow and relief in his eyes.

  “Be safe, Erela.” He said her true name. The name she’d thought taken from her.

  But it turned out, no one could take her identity.

  She watched Titus leave, her heart heavy and yet at the same time lighter. She’d done the right thing.

  Exiting the tower, Erela stood at the base and watched the sky. Logan leaned against her, his big, shaggy head a perfect place to rest her hand.

  For a moment, she pondered freeing him, as well. Logan deserved better than a leash. How could she drag him along with her on this mad quest?

  But how could she let him go? He provided comfort to her. An ability to touch someone and not feel the fear. At least when he was in his wolf shape.

  The big, shaggy beast didn’t scare her. She could touch him and feel comfort.

  She sifted the fine fur atop Logan’s head as the air around her hummed. “He’s doing magic,” Erela said aloud more for Logan’s benefit than her own. She could even understand parts of it. A call to the roc. A seductive song, asking for a favor and promising a boon.

  The spell made a demand. It didn’t command. It presented a bargain laced in praise.

  By the bright rays of the day’s sun, Erela saw the roc’s shadow, the wingspan blotting out part of the sky. The mighty avian uttered a cry that echoed over the plane. A challenge that did not receive a reply. It alighted on the balcony, yet didn’t spend long, lifting almost immediately. Astride its back, a lone figure who raised a hand in goodbye. A short salute as he leaned in to grip the neck as the roc arrowed away, its big wings flapping.

  She watched until it became a tiny speck. Titus was gone. More than likely on a dead-end errand. But at least he’d be safe from what would come.

  Which left Logan and Desmond. Two people determined to follow her folly to the end.

  “Now what do we do?” Erela asked. Stay here and hope they found a clue? Return to Desmond’s castle and wait on spies? Both demanded patience. There had to be a third option.

  Re-entering the tower, she paced as she pondered, kicking up dust. Sneezing. Bumping into a stray object on the floor, which bounced a
nd rolled until it ended up at the foot of an urn. The base of the container was cracked, the features worn, and yet her expression brightened.

  “I know who we should ask for help.”

  “Who?” Desmond asked as he appeared around the bend of the stairs.

  “My king.” Her adoptive father might just be willing to listen.

  “Your return hasn’t changed the fact that you wear the mark of the Forsaken. Even if you make it to the walls, the guards will never let you near him.”

  “His guards will never know. They never saw me when I went to meet you.” She’d snuck out for months.

  “Someone did see us and reported it,” Desmond reminded.

  “Your brother and father knew because you weren’t careful.” Erela tossed her hair. “I can get in without anyone knowing.”

  “To do what?”

  She gestured. “To have him fix this. Once I talk to him, and he understands there was a conspiracy to punish me, surely he’ll help.”

  “Has Marduk contacted you?”

  Erela’s nose wrinkled. “Of course, not. He probably doesn’t even know I’m alive.”

  Desmond stared at her for long enough that she fidgeted and snapped, “What?”

  “Given your father’s position as King of Babylonia, do you really think the tribunal wouldn’t have sent him word that his adopted daughter was Forsaken?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Let’s take it further and say maybe he didn’t know. He has one of the best spy systems out there. Better than mine. Surely, he heard about you surfacing.”

  “Maybe not. I was on Earth.” A wildly different world that she’d never even suspected existed.

  “I knew.”

  “Only because of Stefan.”

  “Exactly. My spy informed me of the strange woman who managed to draw trouble to her. Do you really think your father’s watchers didn’t hear about you, as well?”

  Her chin angled stubbornly. “So what if he did? As king, he’s in a delicate position. He has to appear to obey the tribunal in public.”

  “Why? Why do we have to listen to them?”

  “Because.” An inane reply, and yet the question took Erela by surprise. She frowned. “Because they ensure that the worlds are ordered, and the peace is kept.”