The Time King (The Kings Book 13)

by Heather Killough-Walden

  “It’s what your husbands are calling Amunet, Ahriman, and Arach. Of course, a few of the boys have surreptitiously named them ‘The A Team.’”

  There were some chuckles. Then Evie, who hadn’t laughed, asked, “Are the Nomads back? Reborn already?”

  Katrielle shook her head. “I don’t know. They weren’t that I knew of at the time I cast my spell.” She looked around again, glancing at the sun above them. “But time will no doubt move differently in here than it does out there. So since then? I have no idea what has occurred. I’ll say one thing for sure though.” She took a deep breath and let it out heavily. “He’s done what he set out to do. William has kept you all safe. I couldn’t have gotten in if you hadn’t opened the door. That means other Nomads won’t be able to either.”

  “I can’t imagine how much power it takes to create twelve worlds like this completely untouchable by Amunet and her ilk,” said Poppy gravely.

  “Indeed,” agreed Katrielle. “The Time King has surprised us all.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  In the abandoned silo safe house belonging to the Slate cousins, Will Slate slowly broke his kiss and straightened. His entire body hurt. Every muscle he had was flexed, his heart was racing, and his breathing hitched in his aching chest. He held Helena as close, as tight as physics would allow, and it wasn’t close or tight enough.

  I’m so sorry, he thought as he gazed down at her sleeping face. And the worst part about that was that he really wasn’t.

  “If it helps, the kiss wouldn’t have worked had she not wanted it,” said Darryl.

  Will peeled his eyes off the woman in his arms and looked up at Darryl. But there was another man standing just behind the warlock, and that man was looking at Helena with very real concern and more than a little anger.

  “What have you done, Will?” Ashrim the sentinel asked.

  Liam whirled around. “Ash!”

  Ashrim was what Will had always considered the living embodiment of the sculpture of David by Michelangelo. He had thick, curly blond hair, big amber colored eyes with long lashes, a strong chin, the perfect build, and he moved with a dancer’s grace. He was one hell of a pool player, but thoroughly enjoyed a good game of Scrabble just as much. He was well read, could play every instrument Will and Liam had once tested him with, and he had a deep but soft voice. His presence was calming. And he was supposed to be the strongest sentinel ever made.

  Right now he looked more disheveled than usual, as if he’d come in a hurry. And the top button of his jeans was undone.

  Will saw this and his eyes widened.

  Darryl also turned to face the sentinel. Ashrim ignored them both and climbed the steps to the platform where Will stood holding Helena. As he did, he finished buttoning his jeans and looked Helena over. When he was close enough, Will finally found his voice. “Ash, this isn’t what it looks like,” he whispered.

  “Why are you here?” Liam asked from behind him.

  And in the middle of what was obviously a fun night, said Cain.

  Ashrim lifted his gaze from Helena and met Will’s. He glanced over his broad shoulder. “She called out to me, Liam.”

  And then to Will, he asked, “It isn’t, Will? What it looks like?” He looked over at Darryl. “Or is my warden not unwillingly unconscious in your arms, the infamous zombie warlock not in your safe house, and…” he turned back around, “Helena not bleeding from a rather treacherous wound?”

  Will had never felt more out of sorts than he did just then.

  Aw come on, never? said the bastard in his head. I’ve been in your head for several hours now, Will. You’re going to make me feel emasculated.

  Ashrim’s gaze narrowed on Will. “And is Cain not in your head?”

  Wow, said Cain with a touch of real surprise. He’s good.

  Behind Ashrim, Liam slowly climbed the stairs. “Ash, we’re trying to help her, honest.”

  Ashrim continued to ignore the other warden. Instead, he looked at Will as if Will were some very large and very dangerous beast standing over Helena. Ash slowly raised his hand. “She needs healing.” He peered at Will questioningly, as if he might attack him for touching her. But Will simply nodded. Then he watched Ashrim’s fingers light up with sentinel magic as he placed them against Helena’s stomach.

  “Just be sure she doesn’t wake up yet,” warned Darryl off-handedly. “The spell isn’t complete. And the last part’s a doozy.”

  Ash glanced at the zombie.

  Darryl climbed the stairs, pulled out a chair, took a seat, and propped his feet up on the table. His coat fell open, and he laced his fingers over his hard stomach. “Trust me, she would rather be unconscious for it.”

  Liam had come up beside them on the stairs. Ashrim now looked over at him, and Liam looked away sheepishly, his eyes skirting across all sorts of things he wasn’t really interested in. Then Ash looked back at Will, and Will had absolutely no idea what to tell him. There was no helping it. The last part of the spell was atrocious. “Just heal her, Ash. Don’t wake her up.” He shook his head. “Please.”

  The Slate cousins had known Ashrim for about a decade, since he’d first appeared in the midst of a massive vampire fight. Will had prevented one of the vampires from stabbing Ash in the back with a fire poker. When the fight was over, Ash had taken the two of them out for drinks in thanks. From that moment on, they’d been amiable, and more often than not, when the boys called out for him Ashrim answered, despite the fact that he was not technically their sentinel.

  Now Will knew whose sentinel he was. He watched over the Promised One. They’d assigned him to someone special, indeed.

  The Promised One. Why did the term ring between his ears?

  Ashrim closed his eyes, the glow on the ends of his fingertips intensified, and then the light flashed. He lowered his hand and lifted the edge of Helena’s shirt. The wound the werewolf had left on her abdomen was gone. Her skin was smooth and unbroken. Even her shirt was clean. But Ashrim’s expression was deeply troubled. “I hate it when she doesn’t call me.”

  He looked up at Will. Changing the subject, he said, “She recently used her powers to manipulate time.”

  Will looked over Ashrim’s shoulder at Liam. “Yes, she did.”

  “She got us out of a mess in the middle of the desert,” explained Liam. “We were surrounded.”

  Ashrim sighed heavily. “Compliments of Cain, I’m assuming,” he said almost accusingly.

  Will expected the ancient vampire in his head to have a few things to say to that, but the befanged bastard, for his part, was surprisingly quiet. In fact now that Will paid close attention, he realized he didn’t sense Cain there at all. No voice. No presence. Will was completely alone.

  Cain was suddenly gone.

  “You should never have allowed her to sleep,” Ash told them, his tone laced heavily with reprimand. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”

  The cousins said nothing, but their exchanged glances were thick with confusion.

  “Let’s set her down somewhere safe,” continued Ash as he brushed past Will to the exit of the room that lead to a hallway and personal bedrooms beyond. “And then we need to talk.” He shot them a hard look over his shoulder as he rounded the corner into the hall. “And we need to prepare.”

  Will took a deep breath, looked at his cousin, then looked at Darryl.

  “Don’t look at me,” said the warlock. “You needed a spell and I gave you one. I’m not responsible for what happens beyond that. And by the way, you need to finish it quickly.”

  Liam shot him a dirty look and passed Will on his way to the hall. “Typical,” he muttered just before he was out of range.

  Will gazed down at Helena’s sleeping face and forced himself to memorize it in that moment. When she appeared peaceful. When she wasn’t hurting. When she wasn’t looking at anyone with hatred in her luminous eyes. When she wasn’t hating him.

  Then he turned and followed his cousin and the sentinel out of the room.<
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  The boys were waiting for him in Liam’s room. Will stopped in the doorway and peered at his cousin. His cousin gestured to the bed. But nature was releasing something hot and nasty into Will’s bloodstream.

  Liam shrugged. “What?”

  “Why your room?”

  Liam put his hands on his hips and looked at him as if he’d gone off the reservation. He’d gotten rid of Helena’s gun and the syringe, probably throwing the latter away. “Why do you care?” he asked. “You got to kiss her.”

  “So now you get to sleep with her?” Will asked incredulously.

  “What? No! God Will, she’s freaking unconscious for crying out loud. How hard up do you think I am?”

  “Then why your room?” he asked again as more of that hot chemical filled his body and his heart rate refused to slow.

  But Liam just settled him with an icy glare. “Because my room was closer.”

  Will stayed where he was. Ashrim rolled his eyes. “For the love of all that is good,” he said, moving around Liam to approach Will. “We don’t have time for this. It doesn’t matter whose bed she sleeps on. She probably won’t be sleeping for long anyway. The Night Terrors will be chasing her out of her dreams and into our reality soon enough.” He stopped in front of Will and pointed to the bed behind him. “Either put her there or give her to me, Will. Now.”

  Will gritted his teeth in utterly childish defiance, but stepped around him, approached the bed, and braced his knee on the mattress. Slowly and gently he laid Helena out on it, marveling at every aspect of her as he did so. He noticed how light she was in his arms, yet how empty they felt without her weight. He remembered her in her garage, using her mind to send heavy objects flying through the air. He thought of the way she’d gotten the upper hand with him and his cousin, tricking them into drinking silver. She was strong, smart, fast, powerful. But she was helpless now, sleeping and unmoving, and he’d never wanted to protect something more in his life.

  “Were you serious that she won’t stay asleep for long?” asked Liam.

  “I’m afraid so,” Ashrim replied.

  “What are Night Terrors?” asked Will. The leprechaun had mentioned them too. Without looking up, he added, “What did you mean?”

  Ash said, “That’s what she calls them. I don’t know of a better term for them, so I adopted it. She calls the place they come from the Dark World.” He turned and made his way to the door. “You two need to come with me. We need to get ready and we don’t have much time.”

  “Ash,” said Liam, stopping the sentinel in his tracks. Liam glanced at Helena where she slept, then lowered his head, his hands still on his hips. “Man, we need to finish this spell. This is our chance. If we don’t do this, Cain will be able to get to her. And I know you don’t want that.”

  Ash looked from him to Will to Helena. “Then we have even less time than I thought.” He turned and left.

  Liam and Will turned to each other. Will’s gaze narrowed, and so did Liam’s, each clearly waiting for the other to leave the room first.

  And then Will realized the ridiculousness of their behavior and could have kicked himself. He straightened and rolled back his shoulders, preparing to be the bigger man.

  But Liam suddenly strode out ahead of him, stealing his thunder.

  “Dick,” Liam told him as he passed by.

  “Dickless,” returned Will.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Helena was alone in the hallway. At least, she seemed to be alone. For all that was normal, for all that was natural, she would have been standing solitary in a long, dark hallway of cold, damp cement that stretched several hundred feet and ended in unknown black.

  But this was not normal, nor was it natural, and she knew she was far from alone. She could feel him there in the shadows. Watching her.

  They really have no idea, do they? he asked her.

  Helena spun. The voice sounded everywhere, all around her. She could almost feel it, a brush against her skin, a whisper through her hair.

  “Idea about what?” she asked aloud.

  Laughter, low and long and wrong. But… there was something familiar to it too, something Helena almost identified with at this point. It was something a part of her recognized in a close and personal way, and she had no idea why.

  They have no clue they’ve left the door wide open.

  “What door would that be?” she asked.

  “The door, Helena,” the voice said aloud. This time it was much, much closer. “Your door. The very same door you came through when you slipped into this world. The same door I’m using even now, as we speak.”

  Helena slowly turned. A boot touched down on the hard concrete, the sound echoing with menace. Helena swallowed hard. Her gut clenched with renewed fear. Her heart pounded.

  This was the worst.

  She mentally mourned the outrageous turn her life had taken not only now, but thirty years ago. The moment her father had shoved that bloody gun into her small and shaking hand, the moment his eyes had stopped seeing her even though they were still open. That had been the moment that forever marked her as a freak and had written the unhappy synopsis of the rest of her existence.

  She watched a boot emerge from the shadows. It was a black engineering boot, a little scuffed, a little worn. Her eyes followed the long line up as he continued toward her. Blue jeans, also worn. Gray T-shirt filled with hard muscle. Blond hair. Piercing blue eyes.

  Helena stepped back. She always wanted to sprout wings and fly away, but she couldn’t fly. Unlike vampires.

  “I can change that,” he told her intimately.

  Helena felt the stirrings of panic in her core. To go from the best kiss she’d ever experienced to standing in a long, dark hallway with her worst nightmare not a full minute later was wretched.

  “Something for you to wrap your head around. Because it will happen,” he informed her. Then he looked down and said, “The Slate cousins really are oblivious. They’ve done everything wrong.” He grinned as if the thought gave him schoolboy joy. “They never should have put you under, am I right?” He looked back up and laughed again, but the laughter faded, and he cocked his head to the side to study her with that keen interest he always saved for her. “They’re scrambling to protect you from me even as we speak,” he told her, smiling that friendly smile of his. “And they have no idea we’ve already met. Much less that I’m here with you now.”

  Helena took another step back. All this time. All this time, she’d come face to face with the same man. Every time she’d fallen into this world, he’d been there. At first he’d only been in the background. She would catch glimpses of him in the shadows as she ran or fought. He would watch her in silence, but with keen and frightening interest, and each time he came closer.

  Until finally one night, he’d appeared to her, beautiful and charming. He’d spoken to her. He’d offered to save her from the Night Terrors. He’d offered to call them all off, pull them all in, even destroy every last one of them if that was what she desired. He only wanted one thing from her in return. Rather than pulling the Night Terrors out of this shadowy world and into her realm with her when she awoke – she would take him. She would let him out.

  But with each passing visit to what she’d come to call the Dark World, she saw him more and more for what he truly was. Not a man, but a monster. Something about him scared her more than all the monsters in the Dark World put together. So she always said no.

  The Night Terrors grew worse. They grew stronger and faster and more plentiful. Then they became smarter and more powerful, taking on abilities she didn’t know how to fight alone. They assumed human forms. They slipped through the cracks in her consciousness and entered the mortal world, but would lay low, forcing her to hunt them down. They sabotaged her, took hostages.

  Killed innocents.

  And the charming blue-eyed monster would wait in the Night Terror world, patiently passing the hours until she had no choice but to manipulate time once again. Then he
would make his usual offer. And she would again turn him down. He always smiled when she did. His eyes would glitter with forbidden knowledge, and his easy-going stance would never change.

  He scared the hell out of her.

  Now she knew. Now she knew why the other side effects of her bending time had become less and less frequent, and the Night Terrors had taken over as default. Now she understood why he’d been there in the shadows at first and had only come close recently. He hadn’t been able to get close before. He’d needed the time to grow stronger. He’d also needed her to become what and who she was. The Storyteller’s gift. His fucking present.

  Now even from his prison realm, he was able to enter this dark domain of her fear, just enough to control its monsters and lay down his ultimatum. Each time he did, it grew more difficult for her to say no. She’d almost given in last time, in fact. But somehow she’d refused.

  He’d smiled as usual, but he’d made her regret her decision. The monsters he’d released into her waking world had taken the forms of other monsters and worked an evil treachery within their factions, causing good werewolves to go rogue. She’d had to stop the spread of it before it reached Ethan and his pack. She almost hadn’t made it. Even now she was bleeding somewhere in the waking world, marked by her battle.

  Now she had a name for the blue-eyed monster.

  “You’re Cain,” she said softly. Here, in the hallway that led to her nightmares, her voice echoed with shadowy magic, whispering into corners and crevasses before disappearing. “You’re the First Vampire.”

  Cain smiled warmly. “Of course I am.” His boots paced slowly across the ground, drawing ever nearer, even while his hands were in his jeans pockets, and his stance was easy. Non-threatening. He was very good at that, at appearing to be something he wasn’t.

  When he reached her, he slowly walked around her, casual to his evil core. “Who else would be this patient with you, Helena? Who else would care this much but the man you’ve been promised to?”

  She could think of a few people, actually. He was psychopathically confusing patience and care with a lack of a choice and a deep-seeded drive for freedom and power. But he wasn’t really looking for an answer anyway. So she just turned in place and kept her eyes on him. Whoever had said, “Get behind me Satan” had been beyond stupid.