“Tara!” the creature snapped, her gaze furious.
The monsters uttered low, menacing growls.
Tara? Puzzled, Sable turned just long enough to look at Goldie and Isa.
The flash that followed momentarily blinded Sable. She opened her eyes to find Goldie still there, her clothes gone. The artist stood naked, her curly blonde hair falling to her hips. The rose-and-vine tattoo cloaked her entire body, but it wasn’t a tattoo, really. Although part of her skin, it moved and writhed in the form of a living garment.
Sable gazed at Isa, but instead of a thin-boned, petite old woman, a much younger, lithe woman smiled back at her. Her white locks had transformed into platinum hair that hung to her waist in shiny waves Her clothing had disappeared, too. A living tattoo of lotus flowers and dark-green leaves covered her supple body.
Sable blurted, “Who is Tara?”
“I am,” Isa said. “I can be whoever I want to be, but most know me as the Goddess Tara, regardless of the culture or time period.”
“Goddess?” The word fell out of her mouth in the form of a squeak.
“I’m a goddess of protection,” Isa said, “one of the Judges.” She gestured at Goldie. “This is my granddaughter. She represents both sides, an ambassador of sorts.”
Confused, Sable glanced back and forth between the two Paranorm women.
“Enough!” the she-creature screeched. “Goddesses or not, you cannot interfere with our vengeance. We three must obey the rules. With her free hand, the humanoid pointed at Sable. “This human has committed sins and refuses to repent. It is time for her to pay the price—and by doing so, she shall give us her power.”
Isa stood next to Sable and looked up into her face. “Child, you’ve already repented, but until you realize that fact, the Furies will force you to take your own life. They may even take Thomas’s life to teach you a lesson.”
“Furies?” Sable said. How could any of this be real? “Do you mean like in mythology?”
Isa nodded, her smile patient.
The two monsters sent up a howl that urged a tight horripilation across Sable’s skin. The creatures’ bodies grew taller and filled out more. Arms and legs formed, and their heads mutated into something human-ish and slightly feminine. Gray-black smoke swirled around their forms, and long inky vapors poured from their heads in snake-like tresses. Naked, they possessed small, pointed breasts and stood half-crouched, their eyes flaming brighter, incisors gleaming in the morning sun.
Heart galloping with renewed fear, Sable gulped. She looked back at the Goddess Tara. Power exuded from the woman’s eyes. It washed over Sable, soothing her unraveling nerves, and stilled the clamor raging within her soul. In her mind, a kernel formed into an idea, which blossomed into a revelation.
Isa’s smile grew wider. She nodded again.
To the she-monster, Sable asked, “What have I done that I must repent?”
“Stupid human,” the Fury who held Thomas said. “Must we always spell things out for your kind? You are all so arrogant you think you are above making mistakes.”
“Mistakes!” another Fury whispered gleefully.
“Sinner!” the other one growled.
“We are judge and jury,” the first one stated. “Not them!” She pointed at Isa and Goldie. “And we find you guilty.”
Anger momentarily shoved aside Sable’s fear. She straightened to her full height. “If I am to be found guilty, if I am so stupid and arrogant, then explain my transgressions.”
One of the Furies stepped forward. Inwardly, Sable quivered in terror. The Fury passed her talon-tipped hand over Sable’s face. The suite faded, and she saw herself in a bar reverberating with loud music and raucous laughter. She spoke on her cell phone as her cousin told her about her sick mother, begging Sable to fly home. The scene switched, and she saw her parents’ funerals, followed by signing her divorce papers, the ink smearing slightly on the documents. The next vision revealed the last argument she’d had with Cheyenne, and the realization that her daughter had fled their home. The images ended with a picture of Cheyenne drinking the blood of a homeless man in an alley, the wind whipping her gown around her body so that Sable caught glimpses of her goat body beneath it. Pieces of litter skittered along the filthy street, and the aroma of sweat and piss assailed her nostrils.
Gradually, the suite returned. Sable blinked.
Thomas tried to move, but the Fury slammed him against the wall once, twice. Anger flashed through Thomas’s eyes. Cold wind blasted through the suite, and shards of ice whizzed through the air.
The Fury shook off Thomas’s power as if it were no more than brushing sand from her skin. She thumped him again, cracking the plaster. “Stupid marshal! Your magic is nothing to us.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, grimacing with pain.
“Stop it.” Sable moved forward.
“Back, mortal,” the Fury replied, her tone menacing. “I will kill him.”
“Why?” Blood shrieked in Sable’s ears.
“A high price for your sins.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong!” Sable glared at the other two Furies, then back at the first one. “I can’t control the things that have happened in my life. They’re not my…” Her eyes widened. Wait. I didn’t do those things, but I’ve always blamed myself for them.
“Yes,” Goldie and Isa whispered simultaneously.
“Fine,” the Fury said. She floated across the carpet, her vaporous hair carrying Thomas to the balcony doors, his feet a good six inches above the floor. He struggled against his smoky bounds. “If you do not wish to repent, then we shall force you to repent—or you will die—whichever you prefer. We relish both.”
“What are you—?” Sable screamed as the Fury propelled Thomas through the doors, his body going airborne, into the open air and over the terrace railing.
He cried out and disappeared from sight.
“No! Oh God!” Rushing past the Furies, Sable lunged across the balcony. She stared over its edge. Thomas, suspended in midair, looked back at her with a horrified expression.
“You still don’t repent?” the first Fury behind her said. “Very well. Your lover dies.”
Sable reached for Thomas the same moment the Fury released her hold on him. Their hands connected, and Sable clasped his tightly.
“I’ve got you,” she gasped. Her heart thundered with horror, pulse racing at light speed.
As the Fury’s magic evaporated, Thomas’s full body weight pulled at Sable. Her sandals skidded across the terrace, her toes connecting with one of the rail posts.
“Oh no.” She gripped his hand tighter. Fear forced her heart to pound so hard the pain of it was almost unbearable. “Pull yourself up, Thomas, please!”
“I can’t,” he said. Terror filled his eyes. “You’re over the railing too far. If I try, I’ll yank you over, too.”
“Isa! Goldie!” Sable screamed. “Help me!” Emotion gripped her throat. “Please!”
“We can’t interfere,” Goldie said from the doorway. “We have laws that govern even us.”
The Furies’ giggles drifted out to Sable, fueling her determination. With her thighs wedged between railing spokes, Sable reached with her other hand and clasped her right one, bracing it.
“Okay,” she said, breath ragged. “Swing yourself up and grasp the bottom rail. When you do, I’ll grab your arms and hold you until you can get your feet up on the ledge.”
“I’m slipping,” he said. “I can’t do it without taking you down with me.”
“Damn it, Thomas. Yes, you can. Do it. Do it NOW!” Tears poured down her cheeks. “Use your magic, for God’s sake. You’re not going to die.”
“I can’t. The Fury blocked my powers when I tried to freeze her.” He offered her a pleading expression. “If you don’t let go of me, then we’ll both die.” He gulped, and the expression in his lovely eyes changed from fear to acceptance. “You have to find a way to save Cheyenne, remember?”
The Furies’ la
ughter became more riotous, eager.
“DAMN YOU, PULL YOURSELF UP!” Her sobs garbled her words. “Please! I can’t bear to lose you, Thomas.”
“Let go, baby girl.”
“Never.” The thought of losing him was unacceptable. Without Thomas, she had no will to go on.
“You have to,” he said. “You can’t hold on forever, and if you do, you’re going to die, too.”
“Die! Die! Die!” the Furies chanted.
“Oh, God…help us…”
“Let go,” Thomas whispered.
“I can’t. I won’t.” One of her teardrops splashed on Thomas’s cheek. It glittered in the sunshine, a diamond gem of sorrow, of regret. “I love you,” she said. “I love you so damn much. I’d rather die with you than be without you.”
“I love you, too, baby girl.” He smiled and jerked his hand out of hers.
“NO!” She reached for him, but he plummeted toward the carport.
“YES!” the Furies crowed.
At first, Sable heard the strange sound but she couldn’t discern its location or source. The black cloud erupted from the hotel courtyard. It swarmed across the pool, whirling and diving. Guests screamed and ran for cover. One man lost his balance along the pool’s edge and fell in. Just as quickly as the fluttering mass of birds appeared, it shifted and shot toward the carport.
Sable gasped, her heart hammering so hard she nearly fainted.
The fowl formed a solid entity and caught Thomas in midair, bearing him upward. They obscured him as if he were cloaked in a living blanket of inky feathers. The birds flew as one being toward Sable. She ducked, flattening herself against the terrace. Their squawking and chirping filled her ears until she feared they might explode from the sound. She sat up, watching the doorway, tears slipping down her face. The room teemed with birds. They knocked things over and bounced off walls, the ceiling, and furniture. The clunks of falling items and the breaking of glass reached her.
She crawled into the suite. The Furies crouched, their teeth bared, eyes fiery, talons splayed as they hissed and snarled, swiping at the birds. Goldie and Isa had retreated to a corner, their heads turned away, their eyes and faces shielded.
The fowl swirled into a tighter circle until they moved away from Thomas’s form and folded in upon themselves, creating a tall column that solidified into Officer Delmont.
“Rick?” Sable choked out.
He offered her a sad smile. “For you, Sable. I couldn’t let Valimar fall and watch your soul die from grief.”
She rushed to Thomas, who lay on the floor, and pulled him into her arms. “Are you okay?” Kissing him quickly, she leaned back, not believing her eyes. She’d been so sure he was dead.
“I’m okay. Scared shitless,” he gasped, “but whole.”
“How dare you interfere, you wretched Phooka!” the head Fury bellowed.
“What you’re doing is wrong,” Rick snapped, his face a mask of hatred. “You’re taking mortals before they have a chance to change their ways or repent if they are wrong, but Sable isn’t guilty of the sins you’ve accused her of—and you’re forcing the issue to take her powers.”
“She blames herself, so she is guilty,” the Fury retorted, her vaporous hair flailing around her body.
The Fury’s words hit home. Sable gaped at Thomas. “That’s it,” she whispered.
He favored her with a puzzled look. “What is?” With a quivering hand, he cupped her cheek. “Don’t do something that’s going to get you hurt, or worse.”
“Trust me.” Standing, she faced the Furies. “I am not guilty,” she said, “but I have blamed myself. I realize that now. I condemned myself for the death of my parents, for my failed marriage, and for my daughter running away and the life she must lead now, but I am not responsible for those things.” She snatched the TV remote from an end table and flung it at the nearest Fury, who it hit and bounced off to land on the nearby desktop. The Fury hissed and took a step toward her. “Be gone,” Sable yelled.
The head Fury laughed. The sound rolled through the suite and vibrated everything on the walls. “You cannot hurt us. You carry your shame with you, Sable. It’s a part of you. And once you’re dead, we can possess your magic and be the true Judges of this world!”
“What?” Sable frowned. “How can that be?”
The Furies laughed harder, the sound deafening, vicious.
She glanced at Goldie and Isa. “What’s the answer? How is my shame a part of me?”
“Think, Sable,” Goldie replied.
“Think about where it is,” Isa coaxed.
She studied the goddesses, their beautiful shining hair, the living tattoos that wound and twined around their bodies as if part of them yet not. A gasp flew from Sable. She whirled and ran into the bathroom.
“Sable?” Thomas called.
She yanked out drawers, riffled through the medicine cabinet. Trial-size bottles of mouthwash, shampoo, conditioner, lotions, and other toiletries dropped into the sink and on the counter. Finding nothing useful, she dashed back out into the suite and over to the desktop. She dumped the drawers out, opened the cabinet doors. “Damn, where’s the breakfast cart?”
He frowned. “Room service took it out of here a while ago.”
Defeated, she spun around. “I need something sharp!”
Stooping, Rick pulled up one pant leg and slipped a dagger out of a leather sheath strapped to his calf. “Here,” he said and threw it. The blade sank into the floor a couple of feet in front of Sable. “I can’t help you do it, but I can give you the tool necessary to do so.”
She smiled at him, and he grinned back, the love in his eyes stunning Sable. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you for saving Thomas, too.”
He shrugged. “I may not be able to have you, but I still want you to be happy.”
She seized the dagger. Its rippled blade gleamed, and the silver encrusted on the bone handle flashed. With one hand, she drew her braid over her shoulder, Emerald’s words singing in her mind. “But your hair, as beautiful as it is, Sable, is your downfall.”
Sable’s gaze landed on Isa. “This is what you meant when you said that I was in denial and carried unnecessary baggage, the wounds in my soul.”
Isa smiled and nodded.
“NO!” the Fury stepped forward. “You cannot!”
The other two Furies howled their frustration.
“I can and I will. I started growing this hair six years ago. It represents the turmoil and pain I’ve endured during that time.”
She swiped at the braid, and the dagger sliced away at the first thick strand. The Fury farthest away from her screamed and fell to the floor thrashing and kicking. The she-creature burst into a gray-black cloud and drifted out through the balcony doors.
“That was for my parents,” Sable said. “This is for my failed marriage.” She slashed at the braid again, severing the second thick rope of interwoven hair.
The next humanoid issued a wail that should have broken every piece of crystal in the suite. The Fury fell against the recliner, her body twisting, and burst into a shower of black sparks that puffed into smoke and floated to the ceiling where they disappeared.
“And this last piece is for Cheyenne’s poor choices that I’ve blamed myself for.” Sable cut through the final cord of hair, and it dropped to the carpet.
The remaining Fury inhaled in pain. “You may be favored by the New Order as well as the Old World, but be wary, mortal.” She grimaced and dropped to her knees. “For there are always those who covet your power…and your soul.” With that, she burst into a shower of gray-black dust that drifted out the doors and into the sunny morning.
Hal’s smug expression and sharp fangs popped into Sable’s mind. She didn’t doubt it one bit.
Chapter Thirty-One
Answers
S able handed Rick the dagger and hurried over to Thomas. Without the heaviness of her hair, she felt like she floated across the carpet. She offered him her hand and helped him to hi
s feet. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine.” Thomas folded her into his arms and held her tightly for a long time.
She listened to his heart rate slow to normal.
She raised her head and looked at him. “I’ve never had anything hurt me as badly as when you pulled your hand out of mine.”
“Well, it certainly made me realize that I’d put too much faith in magic and weapons.” He sighed heavily.
She laughed and hugged him. “Good, then that means you’ll be more careful from now on.”
“You’re safe for the time being,” Isa’s voice cut into their reunion, “but the Fury was correct. There are others who will follow you.”
“Tara—Isa—is right,” Rick said.
“What would they have done with my power?” Sable asked. “How could it have served them?”
“We’re not sure,” Isa replied, “but from what we’ve noticed about your sculptures and the dirt form you created of Hal, your ability to transform something into a living likeness or making someone do something could be used in many ways. In the wrong hands, that spells disaster.”
“Why is Hal a vampire?” Sable asked. “Is he part of this plan to force me to the wrong side of your war, or was he just a victim who is trying to warn me now that he’s privy to what’s going on?”
“Hal’s a vampire?” Thomas stared at her with surprise. “I sensed a vamp’s essence, but I didn’t feel he was actually an undead.”
Rick cast him an ill-concealed look of distaste. “Yes, he’s a vamp.”
“But how can he go out in the sunshine if he’s a vampire?” Sable shook her head and frowned. “I saw his fangs, but they could’ve been fake ones used to scare me.”
“No,” Rick said, “they weren’t fake. Hal has only been recently turned, that’s why he’s heading back to Ohio. He needs to set up his den, fortify it, and make sure he’s safe from those who would hunt him.”
“We believe he was turned either the night he rode to Emerald’s den with us,” Isa stated, “or the night after he returned to his hotel.”
Nodding, Goldie added, “He still has a few hours before his body completely changes and he becomes vulnerable to ultraviolet rays. What we’re wondering, however, is who turned him and why. The fact he’s your ex-husband is too much of a coincidence.”
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