by Amy Sumida
I opened my eyes to crimson earth; a puddle of blood beneath me that would have been deep enough to drown in if it hadn't been seeping into the ground, and if I hadn't already been dying from a slit throat. But no; I wasn't dying. I was healing. Painfully. Slowly. But healing.
I covered the wound in my neck with both of my hands. I may have been healing but I was still weak from blood loss and agony. My body had to focus on healing the neck wound before it could start replenishing my blood supply. My eyes shot around me wildly as I rolled to my back. Cerberus and Jago were in heaps nearby; both of them chained excessively. They were still passed out. My advanced immortality and the slice to my throat must have awoken me sooner.
“Hello, Your Majesty.” A man stepped up to me.
He looked like a specter; all pale and gaunt. White hair swept back from his regal forehead and pure black eyes stared down at me with hatred. I had no idea who he was.
“No; we've never met,” he answered the question in my eyes.
“Allow me to introduce you,” another man said.
My gaze swung out to him. This guy I knew. I nearly groaned. He was almost as pale as the first man but his white hair was tipped in blue and his blazing eyes matched those vibrant ends. Galen of Sapphire. Damn it all; why hadn't I killed this fucker?
“Elaria Tanager, meet His Majesty, King Odran of Howlite,” Galen said sweetly.
The ground began to rumble.
“Oh, and we're just in time for another introduction,” Odran declared. “What's that, Queen Elaria? Nothing to say?”
Odran and Galen cackled together like a pair of Halloween witches. Not real witches; those never cackle.
I had to admit; it was a smart way to take me down. Tranquilize me and then slice my throat before I regained consciousness. There's no way to sing without vocal cords.
Except I didn't need my vocal cords to sing anymore. Evidently, these guys hadn't gotten the memo.
I'm here, my love, Kyanite said confidently. I've got you.
What's happening?
I don't know, but let's kill these two, shall we? Then we can figure it out.
Agreed.
“When you freed your husband, you set off a chain reaction. Did you know that?” Galen cocked his head at me as if we were a couple of pals hanging out.
I froze. What the fuck did he just say?
“God energy swept through the realms; awakening gods who have long slumbered in prisons made by their own children,” Odran added. “They've been reaching out; testing their bonds and calling for help.”
“Promising great things to those who respond.” Galen smirked. “Magic. Power.”
“Immortality,” Odran snarled at me. “The immortality you stole from me.”
Odran kicked me in the stomach, and I gasped. My throat was nearly healed. I may not have to project my voice after all.
“It was so easy to get you here,” Galen got down on one knee to taunt me. “I didn't even have to pay that naga to kill those Sasquatch; he did it for fun. He even took the bodies back for free. Then, after he'd played his part, we had an angel mercenary pick him and his trophies up and deliver them to Slate Devon. The Zone Lord with a penchant for punishing the wicked. Devon took one look at the Shedder and his gory prizes and tossed him in a cell. A few days later, there you were; so predictable. Saving the weak while you murder your own people. We told Devon right where to find you, and he sent his men to sweep you up.”
So, Slate was right; the Shedder had killed the Sasq'et. And an angel merc; who would have thought? That explained why there had been no tracks to follow. Angels were good at disappearing into thin air; snatching up their victims from above. No scent trail to follow. It's hard to track a bird unless it sheds a few feathers.
The Howlite King tsked. “You're healing faster than we expected.”
Quick as a snake, he slashed out with a dagger and cut open my throat again. I slumped back from the shock of pain; my slowly-building strength sapped away from me as blood flowed fresh.
“How is it that she has so much blood?” Galen asked Odran as if asking about the weather.
“It's goddess blood now, remember?” Odran sneered. “Goddess blood to free a god.”
Oh, fuck. The monster was a god. The thing beneath us—directly beneath me at the moment—was one of the gods who'd been trapped by his children. A god like me.
Fuck! Kyanite shouted as the ground started shaking again. There's a fucking god beneath us, El! This changes everything. We need to put him back in his place before we deal with these two.
I don't think I can, Ky.
None of that! You're stronger than blood and steel. You're the Goddess of Light. You may not have her magic anymore, but you still have her blood; that's what they're after. They wouldn't want it if it didn't have power. Now, use that power! Don't let it drain away!
A song started to play, and the men stared at each other in confusion. Then Galen laughed.
“Nice try, bitch. Good luck singing without vocal cords.” Galen bent over me to watch me bleed. “We'll just be over there; waiting at a safe distance for Gargo to rise and give us what he promised. Thanks for the blood.”
The men left me and my body burned. If nothing else, fury would keep me awake and alive. I called up the magic inside me and pushed it out; beyond my savaged throat and the rapidly closing wound. Odran hadn't sliced as deeply the second time. A few minutes, and I'd be whole again, but it would take far longer to replace all the blood I'd lost, and I doubted that I'd be doing much more than lying in the bloody mud for awhile.
Lying there singing.
The music was powerful; vibrating into the earth to merge with the movements of the rising god. The entire Zone was shaking, screaming, and shouting. Beneathers were fleeing; a cave becomes a grave in the right conditions. Above me, gargoyles flew; trying to control the masses. They went streaking away at the sound of drums and disaster. I don't know if they saw little ol' me lying there in my own blood. It didn't matter. I had this. It was time to make up for all I'd done.
I let go of my throat and spread out my arms; clawing into the earth—pushing my song down. Pushing the sickness back where it belonged.
The savage slam of “Down with the Sickness” by Disturbed rose and then dropped. My voice went with it. Magic filled my entire body as I sang about self-loathing deep enough to drown in. Chains strong enough to enslave. Humanity twisted into something monstrous. A demon was rising but was it coming up from the Earth or from within me? I couldn't tell anymore.
My weakened body jerked with power; blood cells multiplying and shooting through me to keep my organs functioning. I gasped as strength started to return. But my focus was on the song and the god I was singing to.
It rolled in hatred and fury; the God of the Gargoyles. The first God of Earth. I felt him there; in his magic prison. Ice, water, and magic had held him, but the ice was cracking both above and below; giving way to my blood. And now, my blood had to heal it. My magic had to fuse that cold ward back together.
Everything finally made sense; a God of Earth and Fire could only be imprisoned by either water or air. Air was difficult to work into a ward, and so the Gargoyles must have gone with water. I had no idea how they'd managed it, but when you were scared enough, you could find a way. And I was fucking terrified.
The god roared. He fought. The earth shook beneath me.
The sound of battle filled my ears, but I couldn't turn toward it. My eyes were closed; my mind pushing back the rising god. Men shouted around me. Men died. I could feel their deaths, but their blood didn't weaken the wards around Gargo. Only mine could do that. I called it back to me; pulled every drop up to the surface as I pushed down the darkness.
“Elaria!” Slate's voice made me pry open my eyes.
Slate had me in his arms. I knew it was him. But he was different. Gloriously gargoyle. Massive, ebony horns swept back from his proud forehead. Silver eyes gleamed from the shadows beneath the bridge of his brows.
Cheekbones normally sharp were like blades now; slicing down toward a feral mouth full of dangerous fangs. Leathery wings spread behind and above him; the same dark gray as his skin. The hands that held me were tipped in vicious talons and the barbed tip of a tail swung up to brush my cheek tenderly.
I was about to reassure him when I felt his magic. Gargoyle magic; just the thing I needed to help me seal Gargo's prison. I don't know who had put the ice and water below the Zone, but I was betting that Gargoyles had been the ones to set the ward inside them.
“Slate,” I whispered harshly, “I need you...”
“I'm here.” Silver eyes shone. Was that tears?
“I need your magic.” I grasped his hand. “Your god; he's rising. I need you to reset the ward with me.”
For once, Slate didn't question me. His eyes widened and then went distant. I started to sing again; pushing the magic back into the earth. But this time, it had a companion. I felt Slate there with me; his energy rolling around mine, bolstering my song. A rock for me to stand on. The ward flared back to its full strength; revived by the very power that had created it.
With a fading roar, Gargo fell back into his watery prison—forced into slumber once again—and the earth went still.
As I panted in Slate's arms, a rumbling began again. But this time it was only on the surface. A vehicle approached. It screeched to a stop nearby, and I heard Cerberus shouting something. But I was so tired; blood and magic wrenched out of me in amounts I didn't know I was capable of giving. I didn't notice who stood beside me until one of them spoke.
“Let go of my wife.”
“Darc,” I whispered.
Slate tensed.
“I did let her go,” Slate growled as he kept his stare fixed on mine. “But she needed me.”
I smiled softly and touched Slate's cheek. I left a smear of blood there and tried to wipe it off. I just made it worse, and Slate laughed low; taking my hand in his and holding it to his chest. I tried to peer past him but all I could see was gray. Slate folded his wings back, and my lovers were revealed; their gorgeous, beloved faces filling with relief once they spotted me. And then they saw the blood.
“Little bird.” Torin knocked Slate aside and pulled me into his arms.
Just as when Slate and I were shot, I clung to his hand, and he stayed near despite the glowering men around us.
“Boss, you need some help?” Jago asked warily.
I glanced over to see a horde of gargoyles standing with Jago. I knew his gargoyle form from the arena and recognized him instantly. Two others made their way to the front line and then past Jago. They strode up to us.
“Brother?” That was Binx's voice. “What do you want us to do about this?”
Which meant the other one must be Aaro.
“Aw, fuck,” Cerberus cursed. “Come on, don't fight, guys. I don't want to pick a side.”
“I'm sure we can reason this out,” Aaro's calm voice came out of the other gargoyle's mouth; confirming my suspicions.
“No one's going to fight,” I said firmly.
“What the fuck happened to you, sweetheart?” Declan asked me; his amethyst eyes wide with horror. “Is this all your blood?”
Declan was kneeling beside my head, and Banning's hand was on my cheek, but Gage and Darc stood over us; both of them glowering at the gargoyles.
“Elaria; let go of that creature's hand,” Darc ordered.
“I'm fucking tired of men ordering me around,” I snapped. The anger cost me, and I sank against Torin's wide chest; panting.
“Sweet stones, she's exhausted,” Torin whispered. He looked up. “Tone it the fuck dowe, Darc. She's alive. We have her back. That's what matters.”
“Yes, but I'm still not sure who we should be killing.” Darc crossed his muscled arms. “Only that some killing needs to be done.”
Slate started laughing. “Why am I not surprised that these are the men you love?”
I smirked at him and then asked Torin, “How did you know to come?”
“Kyanite spoke to Darc.” Torin gave Darc a meaningful look. “He told us that you needed help.”
“You're a little late to help,” Slate pointed out. “But that's okay; I was here for her.”
“Not the time to mouth off, gargoyle,” Gage said evenly.
“You're in my zone, gentlemen,” Slate pointed out. “And you're surrounded by my men. Hundreds of them. I'll fucking say whatever I want.”
“You have no idea who you're dealing with,” Declan snarled.
Oh, shit; it was bad when Declan stopped being snarky.
“Enough!” I growled. Energy was returning to me at last and with it came anger. “I'm sure that Kyanite told you how Slate let me go and why he had been holding me in the first place. If you want someone to kill; go look for Galen and Odran. They're the bastards behind this. They're the ones who slit my throat. Twice!”
“They're already dead, little bird.” Torin lifted me into a sitting position and nodded to the left.
I followed his gaze to the torn apart bodies of Galen and Odran. Shit; they looked as if they'd been ravaged by wolves.
“You?” I whispered.
“Him, I assume.” Torin jerked his chin at Slate.
Slate nodded; no smirk, just an acknowledgment that he'd done what needed doing.
“If we're not killing anyone, can someone at least explain to me what the fuck has happened here?” Darcraxis looked straight at Slate.
“I believe that Elaria has just stopped a god from rising out of a subterranean, water and ice prison,” Slate said casually.
Slate was sitting beside us; his hand still held in mine. And he was naked. In gargoyle form, everything was bigger on him, and there was a significant appendage lying in his lap. I tried not to stare. But come on; didn't he have a pair of shorts or a loincloth or something he could have worn?
I cleared my throat while my men gaped at me. I'm pretty sure they were shocked about the god thing and not my interest in gargoyle genitalia. At least, I hoped that was it.
“That about sums it up,” I agreed. “Galen and Odran were offered magic and immortality by Gargo; the imprisoned God of the Gargoyles. He happened to be imprisoned just beneath us. I'm assuming that's why they approached Slate with their plan to catch me and put me in his arena.”
“Correct,” Slate confirmed.
“Gargo told Galen and Odran that a goddess' blood could break the wards of his prison,” I went on. “They thought I'd bleed in the arena and that would do the trick. I didn't. So, they tried to make me bleed by keeping my collar turned on.”
Slate was nodding; he'd obviously reached the same conclusions I had.
“Every time I bled, Gargo got stronger.” I leaned back to look at my lovers; my free hand reaching out to touch them. “It still wasn't enough so they sent out a picture of me to my enemies.”
“The Aaruns.” Slate grimaced. “Before I killed them, they told me that they'd received an anonymous package with our picture, the location of my zone, the location of a hidden cache of automatic rifles here, and a note saying that the Spellsinger's magic was shackled.”
“They shot us.” I stared at Darc until he crouched down beside me. Damn; that man was big. “They tried to kill me. Slate saved my life. He put his body between me and the bullets. Beneather bullets.”
My men exchanged grimaces.
“Still, I got nicked in the leg. I bled again, and the earth shook,” I said. “But then, Slate and I... talked.” I blushed. “We got things out in the open, and he let me go.”
“Only to have my zone nearly tumble down with the biggest earthquake yet,” Slate added. “My men saw you out here and fetched me. I found you bleeding out.” His face was tight; his eyes glassy. He jerked his gaze over to Darc. “She was fighting back the god. I helped her seal the ward again, and that's when all of you showed up. Doubtless, you took advantage of the chaos to force your way inside my zone.”
Darc just smiled.
“Can
we go home now?” Banning asked. “I'd really like to wash the blood off my fiance.”
“Our fiance,” Darc corrected.
“I thought you said she's your wife?” Slate lifted a thick gargoyle brow.
“She is both,” Darc said as if it made perfect sense.
“This is better than Netflix,” Jago said to Cerberus.
“No shit, man.” Cerberus agreed. “You should see them when they get into arguments. And then El has to lay the smack-down and then everyone gets pissy. It's fucking hilarious.”
“Having a moment here, Cerberus,” I growled.