Like Pi.
Thane rubbed his face, smiling behind his hands. This was a string of thought Siobhan would have had. It was more like her than like him. Maybe she’d rubbed off on him. Siobhan, he thought naturally, missing her like an actual hole in his chest. He closed his eyes and reached out with his mind and heart. Where are you, little warlock?
The Phantom King dropped his hands and eyes flew open, glowing silver standing out in stark contrast to his handsome face when against all reason, an answer came faintly from beyond.
Thane! Siobhan called out to him desperately. We’re here! Go to Kristopher! His realm holds the key!
Chapter Thirty-seven
Roman D’Angelo and Thanatos nodded in greeting to Kristopher the Winter King when the tall Viking appeared through the swirling, cold mists of a transportation portal. “Step inside,” he told them. “I’ll hold it open for you.”
Few could transport alone into the Winter Kingdom, and Roman wasn’t one of them. The two Kings stepped into the portal with Kristopher and allowed him to guide them through the shifting ice-blue to their destination.
He didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to him until now. Wait, yes I do. He knew. Evie’s disappearance was fucking with him. Everyone was off their game right now, even Lalura Chantelle. Katrielle, rather. She had come back in her original form when her daughter had saved her life at the theater weeks earlier. It seemed to be the most stable of her forms, too. There was just something about it that was more solid, more real. Roman knew the Nomads aged while in their human forms, but he had a very strong feeling that for some strange reason, this one wouldn’t. Maybe it was that it was Kat’s second time around. It was just set in stone now.
Regardless of her name, the old witch had forgotten about the Ice of Time too. So Roman decided to go a little easier on himself for the slip up and concentrate on the task ahead.
The Winter Kingdom was built upon the Ice of Time, so called because it was formed of the first ice in the multiverse. Space was cold. Very, very cold.
If there were ever a place that had more of a connection with the Time King than any other, this was it. William Solan frequented the Winter Kingdom because of this tie; he was one of the few capable of transporting into it, in fact. There was a dire polar bear by the name of Meridian who often met him at the border and accompanied him during his stay.
Roman mentally shook his head. This was where they should have been performing their locating spell all along. And now they were down their most powerful witch, to boot.
Fortunately, he happened to know quite a few powerful magic users, and every single one of them had come forward to help the Kings in their time of need. They’d created a spell for him to perform, lending their magic to its words and ink and the paper it was written on. Not many could enter the Winter Kingdom. So he, as a warlock himself, would perform the spell, and when he did it would release their magic along with his. Evie would have been so very much better at it than him. But she was one of the lost the spell was meant to find.
Thanatos accompanied him because he’d somehow managed contact with his wife. Roman believed it was because his realm was also ancient. Not much was older than death, which had existed for as long as there was life around to die. And Purgatory bordered the Astral Plane, another “in” to time and its mysteries.
It was agreed that his presence might lend any extra magic they needed to see this through.
Roman and his companions exited the portal and stepped into the massive antechamber of the Winter Palace. Roman looked around and tried not to make too big a deal out of its beauty. It was beautiful, though. If he had to describe it, he would liken it to a combination of Elsa’s palace in Disney’s ridiculously famous film, and the home of an ancient Viking god. Probably Thor. That seemed most like Kristopher. He even looked like Thor.
“What do we need to set up?” asked Kris. His tone was tight. He was as pissed about his missing queen as the rest of them, and probably couldn’t get this done quickly enough. But he also wanted it done right.
“I have everything we need. All that remains is the Ice,” Roman responded.
“You’re standing on it,” said Kris with a nod at Roman’s feet.
Roman looked down. The ground literally was ice, carved gorgeously into the intricate symbols and designs of ancient Norse.
“Very well,” he said. “Have a seat.”
Thane laughed and shook his head. “It’s shrivel time.”
Roman smiled, grateful for the joviality despite the situation. The same thought had occurred to him anyway. He and Thane weren’t of this plane, so the ice was going to be cold for them. But he sat down anyway. The spell required close contact.
And others had sacrificed so much more.
Not an hour earlier, an undead fire elemental, now what many termed a “dark flame” appeared in the hearth of the Shadow King, Keeran Pitch. The dark flame had once gone by the name Pi, and had been friend to many of the Thirteen Kings.
The dark flame delivered a message, and an ultimatum. The destruction had already begun, and the promise was that it would rapidly escalate. Proof of this promise was announced in a dead voice, not at all like Pi’s had once been, and when the flame vanished again, Wolf at once transported to the location given to him.
The destruction was real. People were dying. Accidents were rampant, a serious flu epidemic was on the rise, and natural weather disasters were heavier than they’d been in decades. Roman knew some of it was the Triad. But he also knew some of it was the First Born, the one Katrielle had told him about, the original son of Amunet and Ahriman.
Apparently he was missing. And his parents were pissed about it.
Worse yet, it didn’t seem to matter that he was missing. The destruction he’d set into motion before he’d disappeared was still being carried out. The dark dominoes he’d tipped over were still colliding with one another. The flu was still spreading. Hurricanes were still hitting.
Worst of all, the Triad promised to begin slaughtering en masse unless their son was returned to this world. And of course, the Kings had no idea where he was. It was their private consensus that the bastard had disappeared right along with William Solan. And probably with Helena too, since none of their locating spells had managed to find her either.
What were they supposed to do? They were damned if they didn’t find Solan. They were probably damned if they did. But if they did find him – and he was with Helena and he could bring back the Queens – then they would have a very powerful weapon on their side: All Thirteen Queens on the chessboard. It was prophesied that this was the only thing that could stop the Nomads’ war on all that was good.
So when Pi’s dark flame appeared, the most powerful witches remaining in the world had drawn together at once on behalf of the Kings and their realms. In less than an hour, they’d created a spell.
Now Roman held the last ditch spell in his hands, and all their fates remained in someone else’s.
The others joined Roman on the cold, hard floor, and Roman placed the scrolled spell in the center of their triangle. He unrolled it, and the other two took corners, holding it down. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and allowed his power to flow through him at its fullest.
Fangs instantly shot out of his gums, his vision turned red behind his lids, and he felt the miasma of dark power swirling around him like a magical dust devil. Anyone with the right kind of vision might have seen shadow-like wings, not really there, but perhaps they were? Huge and unfurling behind his back, they stretched into the far reaches of the antechamber, symbols of the dark magic might he now and for the first time unleashed at full strength. The vampire in him called out. The warlock in him called out. The King in him called out.
While beside him, the two other ancient and powerful Kings released the full force of their will along with him.
The ground beneath the three Kings trembled, but they ignored it. They were focused, determined, unwavering. In the distance, over
vast plains of snow, animals in white lifted their heads. Above, the aurora colors intensified and combined, all colors but one disappearing. Lightning flashed from a cloudless sky, but it was not white, nor was it blue.
The walls of Kristopher’s ice palace, primordial though it was, cracked under the pressure of this terrible and beautiful new magic. Voices whispered and echoed, and the air became un-breathable – but fortunately, none of the three gathered men needed to breathe. Not now, as the spell unfolded and Roman’s lips moved, his voice rang out, and the piece of paper his words were scrolled upon burst into green flame. The color of the aurora, the color of the lightning – the color of William Solan’s eyes….
Chapter Thirty-eight
“My mom and dad hooked up right out of high school,” Helena said as she stared into the flames of the fire her spell had created. There were no plants in this realm, and hence there was nothing to burn. By point of fact, there was nothing to breathe either. Plants produced oxygen. So if it hadn’t been for the fae magic inherent in all fae realms, Helena and Will would have been dead moments after they’d arrived on the plane.
But magic there was, and plenty of it. There was enough that it was easy to funnel into something as simple as a pretend campfire that would last hours. Even her latest spell didn’t drain her enough to dampen her ability to start the fire. That was how much power the fae had.
Helena had been born with many powers, some of which she was only now coming into. She’d been able to move things with her mind since she was a toddler. She’d been able to stop time, or temporarily arrest it anyway, since she was five. She could do simple elemental things like freeze things or set them on fire. And one time she’d been really thirsty, so she’d made herself have more Kool-Aid than her friend. And then she’d felt bad and given her friend more Kool-Aid too. That was one of the times she and her father had been forced to move. Just before he’d died, in fact.
Right now, the conflagration of rocks and sand burned with rainbow colors as Helena gazed into the dancing flickers of light and recalled her childhood. “When I was five, my powers with time started to… show up.” She licked her lips. “A lot of stuff happened. We always moved around. I missed kindergarten, then first grade.” She hesitated. “When I messed with time, I paid for it, but I was so young I couldn’t control it. Not really. One night, I woke up from the Night Terrors and my mom was gone.”
The fire popped, then fizzed, crackling back down into its normal flicker. Will had taken a seat on a rock not far from her, and not knowing what else to do at the moment, they’d begun talking. Eventually he’d asked her about the Night Terrors and her ability to manipulate time. He was more interested in this than anything. So she’d begun sharing.
“Everyone said my mom had run away. They talked about it to each other when they didn’t think I could hear them. But I always could. They said she’d been too young to have kids, that she wanted something different or better than what my dad could give her.”
She stopped talking and bit down on her bottom lip to make it stop shaking. The emotion was still raw, even after all of these years. So she bit down to the point of pain and waited for the trembling of her spirit to pass. She didn’t want Will to see her weakness. For some reason, it meant a lot to her that he find her strong.
When she felt it was safe to speak again, she continued. “I knew it wasn’t true. I knew my mom. And I knew how mom and dad felt about each other.” She shook her head, remembering the frantic fury in her father’s eyes as he’d searched for her. “My dad didn’t believe it either. Not for one second. We both knew she’d been taken.”
She expected Will to ask then, “By who?” But he didn’t. He was quiet. So she looked up at him, wondering if he was even listening.
He was watching her intently, his eyes boring into her from where he sat on the large rock beside the fire. The flames reflected in the color of his verdant, keen gaze and his brow was furrowed with concern. He was listening, all right. Steady and still.
Helena’s gaze dropped to his arms, where his shirt-sleeves had been rolled up to keep them off the fresh brand. She squinted, noticing other lines, new lines, drawn across his skin. “Are those tattoos? Like your cousin’s?” she asked, changing the subject for a moment because she could have sworn Will didn’t have tattoos. She’d seen all of him, after all. Every magnificent inch.
Will looked down, lifting his arms. His expression became troubled as he turned them over. The markings were very faint, as if he’d been inked when he was a child and now they were barely there. But they were visible, all the same. And they looked just like Liam’s.
Will slowly lowered his arms, and his green gaze flashed with that strange light it had shown earlier. It was there only an instant and gone again, and for all she knew it could have just been more firelight reflection. But he straightened on the rock as he rolled down his sleeves and cleared his throat. “It’s not important. Please… tell me what happened with your mother, Helena.”
His tone was quieter, more serious. She could also swear that his words were laced with the slightest hint of an accent now. She had no idea what kind; it was unplaceable to her even though it was impossibly familiar.
First the magic she’d sensed coming off him and the glow in his eyes, now the lines and an accent. I think I might be going nuts, she thought. Could the best sex in the universe do that to a woman? Probably.
Or it was the spells she’d cast and the drugs in her system, not to mention the effects of the Night Terrors, the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything, and that she’d had a few beers hours before.
Or it was all of it combined.
Helena closed her eyes for a moment, shifted on her own stone seat, and ran her hands up and down the legs of her jeans. “We were right. She was taken,” she continued, letting everything else go. “My dad was good at tracking monsters. Like his father, he was a warden all his life. But it still took us two years to find her. By the time we did, she wasn’t my mom anymore.”
The memory was bitter sweet and tasted like metal on her tongue as Helena dredged it up from the bowels of her consciousness and shared it with Will Slate. Her mother had been taken by a vampire and turned. But it wasn’t the vampire that ultimately killed her.
“One of my own Night Terrors had followed me out of my dreams and into the real world two years earlier,” she said, her tone going soft and even, where it was safe from the inflection of emotion. “I was only five and I had no idea what it all meant. Hell, sometimes I still don’t.” She shook her head and closed her eyes, shutting out the crystalline desolation of the realm. “But this monster was the worst of them. I’ve always just called him the Terror. He was a powerful beast, and smart.”
She swallowed hard, barely able to make it past the tightness in her throat this time. “It knew how to get to me. How to punish me for messing with time. It possessed the body of a vampire. That vampire took my mother. And he turned her.”
Silence stretched and she opened her eyes again. They were dry. All of the crying to be done over her past had been done long ago. “My father killed them both.”
But that wasn’t all.
“And then the Night Terror left the vampire’s body and materialized as its own monster. The monster attacked my father. That night, I lost both of my parents. Ashrim raised me from then on out.” She glanced up at Will, meeting his gaze. “That gun your cousin shot you with? It was my dad’s. He was holding it when he died. It was covered in his blood, in my mom’s blood, and in the monster’s blood when my dad pressed it into my hand and told me, ‘Never miss.’” She smiled wryly. “I honestly think that’s why it never does.”
Across from her, Will glanced down at his chest.
“Until now, it would seem,” she said. But then something blossomed inside her, some kind of courage. Or perhaps it was still the truth serum. “Or…” she hazarded, licking her lips before she said what she’d been suspecting for some time now. “It did hit you.”
&nbs
p; Will slowly lifted his head, and there it was again. That flash of bright, glowing green in the depths of his gaze. There and gone like lightning. “What are you saying, Helena?” he asked in that soft, serious tone that she found irresistibly sexy.
Helena treaded carefully. She didn’t know why, but she was afraid to breach this subject. “There’s something about you, Will. I can’t put my finger on it. But I feel like I know you from somewhere.” She shook her head. Or from some when.... “You’re more than what you seem,” she tried to explain. But her cheeks were heating and her throat was feeling ever tighter by the second.
It was just that at first glance, Will Slate was kind and compassionate, empathetic and considerate. But sometimes something else broke through, and he was different. A completely separate person. One that was dangerous and powerful. And perhaps a little bit cruel.
When he’d taken her, possessed her on his bed, she’d been completely lost to him in a way that felt blissfully unnatural. It felt more than mortal. It was all-encompassing and wonderful and terrifying. “And there’s that…” she began, her tone lowering to a whisper as she recalled the final thing she’d seen in his eyes before she’d succumbed to a climax that had ripped her heart in two. Something like machinery, a magnificent mechanism of the multiverse, ever ticking, ever recording the eons of endless Time. “S-something in your eyes.” She shook her head. “It’s not human.”
“You’ve got good instincts, Helena,” said an utterly unexpected but familiar voice.
Will and Helena leapt to their feet, and Will at once placed himself between Helena and the newcomer. Liam Slate watched him with cold blue eyes.
Not Liam, thought Helena. Cain.
“Don’t sell the gun short,” he said without looking at her. His gaze bore into his cousin with hard, frozen hatred. “It made its mark all right. It’s just that Will Slate is a man who can’t be killed.” He cocked his head to one side and narrowed his gaze. “Isn’t that right, Cuz?”
The Time King (The Kings Book 13) Page 22