by CK Dawn
The sharp blade didn’t even scratch his skin. The man elbowed Lucienne before the blade left his throat. Lucienne managed to duck. The brutal force missed her head but hit her between her shoulder and her heart. It was like being rammed by a hurtling train. Lucienne flew backward.
She heard a sickening sound of bones cracking and tissues tearing as she collided with the ground. A wave of heat surged through her throat. A fountain of blood spurted out of her mouth, spilling onto her white leather coat and the man’s bare chest and pants.
With a satisfied expression, the man bent to study Lucienne. “The last female Siren is no longer powerful but a whimpering mouse caught in a death trap,” he said. “I’ll not allow you to be Ashburn Fury’s downfall. When I end you, the line dies with you.”
“The Lam’s line . . . has endured tens of thousands of . . . years. I’m only a drop . . . in the ocean,” Lucienne said with effort. “Even you . . . can’t drain the . . . ocean.”
The man tried to rub Lucienne’s blood off his pants, but only smeared the stain wider. “The rest of them don’t matter. Only you carry the lethal gene. Niamh’s blood flows in you. I failed to stop her, but I won’t fail this time. Blame yourself for being born in the wrong century.”
“Why is it . . . the wrong . . . ?” Lucienne forced her question out. Every breath hurt, but she needed to get as much information from this lunatic as she could, and in the meantime, stall him. She knew her men must be trying to get into this pit right now. Even if they failed—most likely they would—she might still find a way out if she could buy more time.
“You were born into the same generation as Ashburn Fury, the Destined One,” the man answered.
“Why is he . . . so special? Is . . . it because of his . . . genetic code? Are you his . . . biological father?”
The man smiled with white teeth. It was stunning, but no human smiled like that, at least not a good human. “Sorry, I’d love to keep chatting but I must hurry. Ashburn will get down here any minute.” He plunged his mighty fist toward Lucienne’s skull. She rolled out of its way at the last second. His fist slammed hard into the ground but made no sound.
Timing was crucial when facing such a deadly force, and by will of steel, Lucienne ordered her body to move. But she had no illusion as to how long she could last. Her body would finally give in and override the commands of her brain.
“Wait,” Lucienne called, her voice hoarse. The pain in her body was excruciating. Sweat broke out over her face. Her back was also soaked, though whether by sweat or blood, she wasn’t sure.
“It can’t wait any longer,” the giant said, his hand reaching for her neck. Just as Lucienne feared, her body refused to move an inch this time. Even though her will was made of steel, her body was only flesh. The giant tore off her scarf, and his massive, cold hand locked onto her neck.
Lucienne stared into the face of death as the villain tightened his grip around her throat. This pit will be my grave, she thought. Her bones would dry out here. In the end, she was forced to abandon all who loved her, trusted her, and put their hopes in her hands. Vladimir, Kian, Aida, Ziyi, and all her fierce warriors’ faces flashed before her. I’m sorry, she said silently. You’re on your own.
Her cognac brown eyes burned the last residue of fire, wanting more than anything to cremate her enemy to ashes as she plunged into the dark abyss.
“Farewell, Niahm,” the man said without emotion. “And don’t worry about your men in Nirvana. They won’t be going back home either.”
Lucienne felt the life slipping out of her as air seeped out of her lungs. Do something! She sent her thoughts to her magical mark. If you have any real power, any at all, then save me, your last Siren.
No power flared from her mark, but amid the expansive blackness, Lucienne spotted the outline of a figure.
Ashburn lunged, slamming the giant away from Lucienne and cutting between them. Lucienne heard Ashburn growling, “What the hell are you doing, Seraphen?”
Ashburn seemed to have recovered from the fall. Lucienne blinked in surprise. Like her, he regenerated much faster than a normal human.
“Protecting you from her,” Seraphen said.
“She’s helpless.” Ashburn turned to look at a bloody Lucienne, who was clenching her teeth and suffering the agony in silence on the cold ground. Ashburn’s sorrowful look turned vindictive. “And you’re just going to murder her like that?”
“She can’t live. She’ll lead you and everyone to destruction,” Seraphen said. “You know deep inside she’ll become the tool of the Exiles. If they come back, it will be over. Take her out, and we buy ourselves another ten thousand years.”
“I’m the other part of the equation, a danger to the world, too, and maybe even more so than her.” Ashburn’s tone was acid. “Why don’t you take me out instead?”
“I didn’t come to eliminate your line,” Seraphen said. “When she’s out of the picture, you’ll be harmless. Without a catalyst, there will be no reaction.”
“You don’t know that! You said you’d been dormant for too long and that part of your memories were lost, and some were completely damaged.”
“A malfunctioned . . . creature.” As Lucienne spoke, blood dripped from the corner of her mouth.
“You don’t really know that the Exiles’ purpose is to match her with me,” Ashburn continued. “If there’s indeed such an absurd program set a million years ago.”
“Your reunion will bring an end to the world,” Seraphen said. “We can’t take the risk!”
“I’ll never touch her,” Ashburn said. “So you can stop hurting her!”
“Don’t do this, Ashburn Fury! Don’t make the same mistake I made. I should have ended the first Niamh, but I was as smitten as you are now, so the Exiles found another opportunity to come back. Believe me, boy, she’s the Siren—the seducer. The more you see her, the more helpless you will become. While she sings you the song, she lures you to destruction.”
“Sing . . . like . . . this?” Lucienne struggled to breathe out. She mustn’t let Ashburn be persuaded by this lunatic, this damaged creature, before she passed out and never woke up again. Ashburn already believed they were a threat to each other. “If you want . . . to murder . . . me, then go ahead . . . Stop poisoning Ash . . . with your . . . ridiculous theory.”
Ashburn darted a glance at a broken Lucienne before turning back to Seraphen, his anger burning brighter. “You’ve set your mind on a one-way path that can’t be reversed. If you ever try to hurt her again, I’ll find a way to terminate you!”
“Don’t be a fool!” Seraphen crouched like a tiger before Ashburn, ready to jump over him to strike Lucienne. “Think about this: who fed you to the Eye of Time? She won’t hesitate to finish you off if it comes down to you or her. And the day will come. Let me end her now to save us much trouble. You don’t need to watch. It’ll be very fast, and she’ll suffer no pain.”
“You beat me . . . to a pulp and . . . call this . . . no pain?” Lucienne laughed and coughed. Oh, damn, it hurt, but she kept on. “You’re . . . a pathological liar. I’ll never . . . hurt Ash. When I saw . . . the Eye could really hurt him . . . I caged it. I have remorse, but you . . . have . . . no conscience. You told Ash . . . lies . . . to serve your agenda.”
“See how dangerous she is? She’s trying to put a wedge between us.” Seraphen said.
“Enough!” Ashburn raised a hand, black lightning flaming at his fingertips. “Back off, Seraphen. Leave here!”
“You can’t kill me either, Ashburn Fury,” Seraphen reminded him. “No human can.”
“I can hurt you,” Ashburn said. “The lightning and fire I inherited from the Eye of Time can make you very uncomfortable.”
“You can’t stop me from doing my duty,” Seraphen said.
“If you kill her, I will kill myself and end my line, so you’ll still fail the contract.”
Seraphen looked darkly at Ashburn. Then he rose. In an instant, he disappeared without a sound.
>
Kneeling beside Lucienne, Ashburn drew a sharp breath. His trembling hand brushed her blood-matted hair away from her face. “I’m so sorry,” he said. “I was regenerating inside the glass elevator. It is in the outer part of the Rabbit Hole. I didn’t want to stay in here with Seraphen. I should have come down earlier when I couldn’t sense you.”
“Take me up . . . to my men . . .” Lucienne said. “My doctor’s waiting . . . don’t want the . . . mad dog to . . . harm him.”
“Shush, don’t talk.” Ashburn gathered her up in his arms, letting her head lay on his lap. “I’ll take care of you.” His hand unzipped her blood-stained coat and then unbuttoned her shirt.
“What . . . are you . . . doing?” Lucienne cheeks burned with rage and vulnerability, despite the familiar pleasurable vibration pulsing through her at his touch. Was she now an easy target for him? First beaten, and then sexually assaulted? But she was unable to lift a hand to defend herself. If Ashburn went further, she prayed the prohibition on her virtue would burn him ten times more painfully than it had burned Vladimir.
When Ashburn exposed her leopard-print bra, she commanded him in a husky voice, “Stop it . . . Ashburn . . . Let me . . . go!”
Her mind power didn’t work on him. But he snapped his attention to her face, reading rage and accusation in her eyes. “You thought I—” His face burned red as he shook his head. “I would never take advantage of you, of anyone.” His voice turned to a desperate whisper. “I was only trying to stop your internal bleeding. I have healing power within me. For your sake, I hope it work.” He pressed his hand on Lucienne’s chest, the end of his palm between the deep cleavage of her breasts.
Lucienne gasped. Pain and pleasure blended, taking her toward an ageless time and bringing her back to the familiar scent of sun showers, the colors of winter, and the wakening morning sounds of Chicago, her old home. She could feel the broken pieces inside her reweaving. As her pain receded, the pleasurable throbbing became almost intolerable. She rasped.
She’d never felt so connected to anyone. And it was more than marvelous.
Ashburn clenched his teeth, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead, his beautiful eyebrows creased in agony. It then struck Lucienne—he was absorbing her pain! “Ash,” she said. “Stop . . . My doctors will . . . fix me.”
Ashburn ignored her, and Lucienne couldn’t stop him. His heat continued feeding into her body. New energy spread throughout her like musical notes, at first gentle and graceful, then weaving into a complex symphony, until it vibrated in her every cell. When it ended, Lucienne knew Ashburn had stopped her internal bleeding.
Ashburn removed his hand and crumbled beside her.
“Ash?” she called. Talking still hurt, but she could manage it better now. “Are you all right? You’re spent.”
“When I came down and saw you lying in blood, I thought I’d lost you.” He turned to her and buried his face in her lustrous hair.
Hesitating, she smoothed her fingers through the mane of his silky hair. “Thank you,” she whispered. He knew she brought out the Eye of Time and caused his fall, and yet he still chose to save her. Fighting her desire to stay in Ashburn’s arms, Lucienne said, “I should get back to my people. I don’t want them to worry about me.” Her pain was greatly diminished, but hadn’t completely abandoned her. When she attempt to get up, the pain turned sharp again.
Ashburn sat up, composed now. “You’re not in danger anymore, but you still have a broken rib. I can’t mend it. I don’t have the full power of the Eye of Time. You’ll need your doctor for that.” He scooped her up and carried her toward the invisible platform.
The liquid interface glowed above as the invisible elevator sped up. Ashburn held Lucienne tighter, but not too tight. She knew he was afraid of hurting her.
Her head resting against Ashburn’s shoulder, Lucienne caught sight of Seraphen standing beneath the elevator, her crimson scarf in his hand. When he saw her watching him, he brought the scarf to his nose and sniffed it, and then crumpled it with such force that Lucienne felt a chill and repulsion coursing through her. The freak would strike again, until he erased her from the face of earth, as he promised. Lucienne matched his steely stare with cold determination—she’d terminate him before he got the chance.
As the pillar opened, Ashburn stepped out with Lucienne in his arms. The door immediately sealed behind them.
Ghost House was lit like daylight, drowning pale moonlight seeping through the high windows. An army of Lucienne’s soldiers surrounded the pillar, all guns aimed at Ashburn. Every warrior looked like he wanted to riddle the Fury boy with bullet holes.
Lucienne darted her eyes from her men to the mess on the ground. The soldiers must have used every means possible to cut open the pillar, nearly tearing apart the arena in the process.
“The Siren’s hurt!” Orlando roared.
Lucienne was suddenly conscious of her broken-doll appearance, blood dried at the corner of her mouth, the ends of her hair, and all over her coat. She was a mess.
In two strides, Orlando reached Lucienne. “If this boy hurt you,” he said, “I’ll feed him to my fish!”
“Don’t hurt him,” Lucienne said with effort. “He . . . saved me.”
“Give her to me,” Orlando ordered Ashburn, about to take Lucienne.
Ashburn refused. “It’s better not to change hands. Her internal bleeding has stopped, but she’s still weak, and she has a broken rib.”
“Get the stretcher!” Orlando yelled toward the men, who raced away as if running for their lives to fetch the gurney. Orlando turned back to Lucienne. “Who did this to you?” Wrath and pain still twisted his face.
“The giant. Not our giant,” Dr. Wren said. “It’s my fault. I should have stopped her from going in, but she was too fast.” The doctor shoved two soldiers away and came to Lucienne’s side. “Put her down. Let me check her first.” As the doctor examined Lucienne, he called, “We must return to Sphinxes now. She needs surgery and a blood transfusion.”
Vladimir’s curses in Czech boomed through the arena. He had arrived, racing toward her on his motorcycle. He must have taken the last aircraft, Snow Eagle, and brought his bike.
“Who told him?” Lucienne looked at Duncan with reproach. “You all know he can’t hold his temper.”
“I did,” Dr. Wren said. “I called everyone. Even Kian McQuillen’s on his way from Chicago.”
“Dr. Wren,” Lucienne said, “I told you last time, when a situation isn’t critical—”
“The situation looked very critical to me. We lost visual on you for two hours,” the doctor said. “And now you’ve returned like this. I promised to take care of you. If I had lost you, I would never go to my grave in peace.”
Before Lucienne could chide the doctor for his dramatics, Vladimir reached her like a furnace blast. He handed his bike to a soldier, strode to Lucienne’s side, and shoved Ashburn away, so that he could crouch beside Lucienne.
Ashburn stumbled but didn’t fall. He rose to his feet quickly. The two boys glared at each other, enemies at first sight, the tension thick as Lucienne’s whip in action. Before she could even call out to Vladimir to diffuse the pressure, he snapped his attention back to her. “Who did this to her?” he roared. “I’ll eat his heart!”
“The one who fought me . . . has no heart,” Lucienne said.
Vladimir stared at her, his expression telling her that he didn’t find her joke funny.
Ziyi’s weeping broke through on Orlando’s radio, “Oh, Lucia, are you all right? Tell me she’s all right. Someone! Tell me she’s all right.”
“People!” Lucienne couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m not dead. Orlando, order a retreat. Every solider will leave Nirvana immediately and return to Sphinxes. I will not lose any of you to this place. Radio Kian and have him turn around. Do not land here. This is a code red area.”
“I’ll stay with you while your people arrange for evacuation,” Ashburn said.
“Stay away!
” Vladimir said.
“No, Vlad, we need him,” Lucienne said. “If we want to get out of here in one piece.” She struggled against her pain to command him.”You will support my decision, Vladimir Blazek!”
Vladimir walked away. Resentment rolled off him wild wind. He came back to her before darkness took over her, and the world slid out from under her.
Twenty
When BL7 touched down on Sphinxes, and in her semi-consciousness, Lucienne vaguely registered Vladimir and Orlando carrying her on a gurney. Kian shouted, “Other than me, you know her better than anyone, Orlando Sutherland. You should never have left her side. Any of you!”
“It’s entirely my fault. I’ll accept any sentence and punishment.” Orlando said. “But you’re also suggesting I should have disobeyed the Siren’s direct order.”
“When it concerns her safety, you take charge. Even Blazek wouldn’t let her have her way if she was risking herself,” Kian said.
“She’s suffering, and you’re shouting?” Vladimir growled at Kian.
“I’ll shout at her until she stops putting herself in danger,” Kian said. “She’s not responsible for just herself anymore.”
“She’s our Siren. We’re part of her responsibilities, too,” Orlando said quietly. “We let her down.”
When Lucienne woke up again, she sensed someone in the room with her. As she stirred, the person immediately jumped from a chair with a sleepy grumble. “Miláček?”
“Vlad?” Lucienne called.
Vladimir turned up the light to a comfortable shade. “You’re drooling.”
“I don’t drool! How long have I been sleeping?”
“Almost forty hours.”
“And you’ve been here all this time?”
“Some time,” he said. “Don’t worry about my beauty sleep. It takes so much more to make this face less appealing.” He helped her sit up and gave her water. She leaned back against his warm chest. His strong, steady heartbeat comforted her.