She halted in the doorway. She didn’t know how to saddle a horse—and it wouldn’t matter. Kiren and Miles had the only two. Cursing herself for the oversight, she pulled back her skirts and ran.
Rocks bit into the soles of her shoes, but she sprinted on.
Her muscles burned from the effort. Alexia didn’t stop.
The road passed beneath her feet, and she clutched Slayer in a fist to keep it from bruising her leg.
The inn disappeared behind her. The landscape slowly changed into rolling hills.
Her lungs burned. A cramp seized her side, but she kept going.
How much time had passed—an hour, two? Was she already too late? Sweat trickled down her back and plastered the curls about her face. She ignored them.
She knew the spot when it appeared, the wide open field. No smoke blackened the sky, and she thanked the Lord. Wheat stalks tickled at her elbows as she waded through them, pollens suffusing the air with richness. Clouds shrouded the heavens, the field silent except for the whisper of wind across the grain and her labored rasping. Two meager willows stretched above the stalks, spiny wood hard for her to imagine becoming the crater that had occupied the space.
Strange.
Like the weight in her pocket. She slipped the linen-wrapped pendant out of her skirt, peeling the covering back. Cold metal gleamed up at her, somewhere between a pentagram and triangle, with a Z whose bottom lip curled back like the swirl of a seashell. A short line crossed its center, the arms of a headless character. Small rune-like impressions circled the central shape, a continuous ring of indecipherable script. She swirled her hand above the face, its heavy chain slipping free and dangling over the sides of her palm, separated only by the cloth.
A distant rumble pulled her around. Dust billowed up.
She caught her breath.
His silvery stallion streaked into view, escorted by the brown Miles always rode. Alexia could have cried for relief. She stood on her toes and waved.
They sped past.
She let out an indignant grunt.
Kiren pulled to a stop. He turned. Even across the distance, his gaze sent lightning zipping through her soul as though she’d dived into a glacial pool the first day of spring.
He spoke to Miles whose head shook. Kiren slapped the brown’s flank and sent Miles charging away. He bent over his own beast and galloped straight for her. She bit back the tears, so thankful for his beating heart she could burst into a ray of sunlight.
He leapt from the animal and came to a halt only a step away from her, confusion crunching his brows down.
Her heart thundered. Here he stood, the man she never thought she’d see again, and he was whole. He was hers!
She threw her arms around him and kissed his neck.
Kiren lifted her away, shaking her shoulders. “What are you doing here?”
She scowled. Couldn’t he at least allow her an instant of relief? “I do not think you appreciate what I have been through.” She swiped wet hair away from her face. Over his shoulder, blackness swooped toward them, a continuous stripe of death. She hefted his necklace, the links clinking.
Kiren’s eyes widened. He lifted it over his head, pausing. “How did you...?”
She crossed her arms.
He smirked, shaking his head at his own question. He dropped the chain around his neck, eyes closing like a boy who had found his way home after days of being lost. She’d only once seen such relief in the slight pucker of his lips—the night he’d discovered her in Ethel’s cottage after months of searching.
His brow quirked.
“What is wrong?” She touched his cheek.
“I...” His head shook. “Nothing.”
A chorus of hisses hit her ears. Kiren slid a protective arm around her, twirling to take in the ring of dark cloaks. They were completely surrounded.
Kiren frowned down at her. She was squeezing him, her fingers cutting into his ribs. She loosened her grip.
The wind died.
Kiren pressed her tighter.
She peeked around him, gripping Slayer. A line of dark shrouds fenced them in, each at arms’ length from one another. Brilliant red eyes speared into her. Her heart raced.
“They cannot hurt us,” she reminded herself. He had his medallion and all was right again.
Kiren slid the pendant free in one graceful movement. It glimmered, dull metal, a molten angry thing. He sucked in a breath and lifted the charm.
She shaded her eyes, ready for the brilliant light to take away their enemies. His muscles stiffened against her. They trembled. He lifted the pendant higher, his back as hard as stone.
She glanced up. What was he waiting for?
He panted. Sweat glistened down his neck, seeping into his collar.
“Kiren?” she whispered.
He dropped the pendant and gripped her fingers. Words shot through her mind in his voice: It’s not working.
She gasped and squeezed.
Screams pierced her ears, hungry wails. Clawed fingers lifted as the entire ring surged forward.
Fifty-Five
Obliterate
NO!
Everything stopped.
Alexia looked about the circle of blazing red pupils and sucked in the stagnant air. It smarted against her tongue. Death. She could taste the death.
She glanced up at Kiren, his jaw set, shoulders bent slightly forward, bracing for the onslaught. His eyes blazed with defiance.
He was the very essence of everything contrary to the Soulless: life, light, strength.
She lifted a hand to his cheek and traced the stone-like skin. She would not let them take him.
Not now.
Not ever.
No matter the cost.
Releasing the moments slowly, she tore Slayer out of her belt, slipping free from Kiren’s grasp.
The circle closed in slow motion. She twisted the weapon, as long as her forearm, pointing the jagged blade at the nearest enemy.
Her heart sped, palms sweaty.
The creatures’ cloaks floated on the suspended air, almost translucent. She squinted closer. Particles darkened the space around them, but no cloth moved like that. What were they wrapped in?
Skinless bones reached for her face.
The heart. She had to aim for the heart.
But how? Between the ribs? From below? What if she missed?
Her hand trembled as she lifted the blade. It halted at the wraith’s chest cavity. With a shove, it cut in from below, splitting the skin like butter.
She gagged.
Up she thrust, horrified but unable to look away as the weapon slid in, one excruciating inch after another. She could stop this. She could pull away now before it was too late, before she’d taken a life.
Everything inside her faded to ash.
No. This had to be done.
The weapon disappeared up to its hilt and jolted to a stop.
It was done.
The creature swiped at her. She ducked, pulling the blade free. The blackness wrapping the demon’s arm grazed her face, liquid ice: darkness embodied. The emptiness stole her breath.
She leapt back.
Murk oozed from the wraith’s wound.
Her insides turned to slush.
Gray slush.
The creature’s eyes pierced hers as it dropped to the ground, squeezed in confusion; innocent questions harbored in them.
Why? How?
Her stomach roiled.
Tears burned at Alexia’s eyes. She blinked them away and faced the next victim.
The world blanked into one black mass after another. She thrust, pulled the weapon free, and thrust again.
Bodies tumbled before her. How many, she didn’t know. They just kept coming. She wiped tears away between stabbing, pulling back only to find another target, and stopping time completely when one of them grew too close. Kiren remained behind her as she whirled, dispatching each of the mindless attackers.
The minutes weighed on her.
Her neck ached from the forming headache. How long had she been at it? It felt like hours, but she didn’t stop. One after another after another after another...
Stab.
Pull free.
Don’t think.
Next.
Her brain was an anvil.
She didn’t stop.
Her arms didn’t want to work anymore.
She didn’t stop.
Her vision fogged.
Stab.
Pull free.
Next.
Alexia collapsed to her knees, landing in a pile of limp bodies. No more darkness streaked toward her. It bled across the ground in dizzying circles.
She released time. Kiren caught her before she toppled over on her side, weapon slipping from her fingers. His eyes stretched wide, mouth open.
Alexia ran her hand over his cheek and gave him a weak smile. They would not hurt him, not ever again.
No matter what.
Fifty-Six
Fear
So many. So many dead.
Kiren lifted Alexia against his shoulder to keep her from seeing and clenched his teeth. Blood clung to the strands of her hair and dotted her clothing.
Blood.
On her hands.
No matter what he did, he could never wash it off.
This was going to crush her. His angel.
His angel of death.
He would never escape the vision of her standing over a heap of corpses, the blur of motion as her broken weapon gleamed, the deadly precision and determination in her eye. He could only imagine how she would struggle to reconcile.
Kiren turned his gaze up, away from the bodies. He did not want to recognize friends from ages past, for it was enough that she’d saved him—saved them both. He would not burden her with his depression.
He rose, taking her with him. Her arms wrapped feebly around his shoulders, her face pressed into his neck. She shook.
“Shh,” he encouraged. He was supposed to protect her, to shield her from this sort of heartache. He had failed.
Her sadness pierced into him like the fabric of her heart had been shredded and set free on the lapping waves of a torrid sea. She was drifting apart, and no matter how he held her, he couldn’t keep her whole.
Carefully, he stepped over the prostrate bodies.
And why hadn’t the necklace worked?
It didn’t sit right. The weight was off. It was empty. No power. No connection. Only emptiness.
A counterfeit?
Or was the counterfeit somehow himself? Was it possible that entering the Soulless consciousness had altered him?
Lucian would know. They needed to get back to the inn, to the heart of the Passionate, to safety. But there was no safety. Not from this. Not anymore.
Fifty-Seven
Torment
The steady rhythm of the horse’s hooves vibrated through Alexia until they resonated in her head, a constant drumming to exasperate her growing headache. Each shock sent pain lancing up her neck, and she just wanted it to end. Kiren’s stony grip held her firm, anchoring her. Her heart should be fluttering out of control, her entire soul warmed by his presence, but a dark cloud hung over her.
They were dead, all of them. There must have been fifty.
Fifty like John.
Or Sarah.
She could barely breathe around the knowledge of what she’d done.
But she had saved Kiren.
Was his life worth so many of theirs?
Of course it was! How many Passionate had he saved? How many more would he save?
After an hour of riding, he pulled into the quiet of someone’s barn and slid from the beast. Starlight spilled through gaps in the wood, dappling the ground in patches of silver. He took her elbow and aided her down. She landed and stumbled. He caught her and she stood chest to chest, face to face, his breath curling over her lips.
Alexia couldn’t look at him. She knew what she would see: disappointment, disgust, guilt. Part of her wanted him to kiss her, to tell her he was not repulsed by her actions, although she knew he must be. She wanted him—no needed him!
But she didn’t deserve him.
Alexia turned away and dropped into the straw.
He stood over her, not moving. Once or twice his breath hitched like he might speak, but what would he say? Reprimand her for so blatant an abuse of her power? Thank her for saving his life while his tone thrummed with accusation?
Slayer thudded in the straw next to her. She scooted away from it, wishing he’d left it behind.
Kiren cleared his throat, clearly waiting for something. Her fingers bit into her legs. She started visually tracing pieces of straw, unable to summon the power to lift her head. She curled in on herself, locking her arms around her legs. He would never be able to look on her the same way, but he lived. Her mother had warned there would be a price. Well, she’d paid it. Would there be any coming back from this?
Kiren exited the barn, leaving her alone.
The knotted rafters reminded her of Father’s stables, though she’d rarely been out to them. Her nanny had often warned about the unbecoming things which came of noble young women consorting with men in such places.
Her nanny who was dead at the hands of the Soulless.
She brushed a hand over the straw. Tears trickled down her cheeks. She had lived such a simple life then. Perhaps Kiren had been right to insist she stay safely within the human world. At least then he would have still had use of his pendant.
Alexia shuddered.
He returned, a sloshing bucket clenched in his fingers. He knelt before her, pulled the handkerchief from his jacket, and began washing the filth from her neck and hair. She still couldn’t meet his gaze.
The water chilled her, but his fingers grazed her skin, leaving a simmering trail of desire. He set the cloth aside and caressed her chin.
She blinked up at him.
“There you are.” The words were tender, his lips curving gently.
She bit down on the insides of her lips. Kiren slid closer, cupping her face. Her heart sped. His breath warmed her lips.
He was going to kiss her, to kiss the lips of a woman who had knowingly and intentionally killed and killed again. He didn’t deserve anything so tainted!
Uncontrollable tears burst through.
“Alexia.” He wrapped her in his arms and kissed the top of her head. His lips traveled to her brow, warming the skin. He kissed her cheeks, her nose, and finally her mouth.
She wept and kissed him back, yanking him closer, needing more of him. He kissed her more fiercely. She grabbed his waistcoat, pulling him over her as she laid back. He leaned in, his breath swirling across her bare neck, fingers caressing her sides.
Everything else disappeared while she was buried in him. He could heal this, heal anything, save her from herself. She didn’t want to think about anything but him.
She groaned hungrily and rolled over top of him. Night light streaked across his face, whitening his eyelashes. His stare cut her to the very center: so hungry, so vulnerable, like the crimson pupils of the creatures she’d slain.
She fumbled off him, heart thundering.
He sat up, brows squeezed together. “What is wrong?”
She slowed her breathing, closing her eyes. She couldn’t do it, couldn’t be with him knowing what she’d become for his sake.
Warm fingers brushed a curl of hair behind her ear. “Love?”
She turned away. “Am I a horrible person?”
“Why would you think that?”
She met his eyes, unable to stave the tears. “Only this morning I believed you lost to me, forever.”
He stroked her jaw. “And was I truly lost to you?”
She hesitated and nodded, more tears escaping. He pulled her against his chest, brushing her curls. “You dreamed it?”
Alexia shook her head. “I jumped back through time, Kiren. I came to stop them from killing you.”
His fingers froze.
She pressed a hand against his chest, searching for the rhythm that gave her a valid reason for drawing air. “And I did. I stopped them. All of them.” She blinked up at him. “Is it wrong that I should value your life above so many others?”
Kiren brushed the hair back from her face. “It should have been me.”
She shivered and he wrapped himself more closely about her. What was he saying? That he should have been the one to die?
He groaned. “I should have stopped them.”
“Would it be any less horrid?” She choked on the last word. “Are we so much better that we deserve to live and they deserve to suffer?”
“Love, they are set free.”
“Who am I, Kiren? I am not God. I am not the one who should decide it is their time!” The last word struck her. Time. Wasn’t that her gift? Was she intended then to decide such things—the beginning and ending of things? Why else did she have this gift? And what kind of merciful God would place so great a burden upon her?
His nose nuzzled her ear. “I believe these creatures are allowed to suffer, and I believe their merciful release is acceptable.”
“Then why does it feel like murder?” She faced him.
Light glistened across his pupils, but they were turned thoughtfully down.
She clutched his coat. “How have you survived it all these years? Setting them free? Tell me the secret, Kiren. I need to know!”
He pried her fingers from digging into his skin, lashes lifting. “There is no secret.”
She swallowed in horror.
“I do what I do for the right reasons, to preserve a nation that would otherwise cease to exist.” He stood. “Perhaps I am wrong. Perhaps we should have faded from existence long ago.”
She couldn’t believe that was the right answer.
“Or perhaps God puts people in places at specific times because he knows how they will act.” His eyes drifted shut. “Perhaps he places his trust in us to act with the information or power with which we’ve been entrusted.”
She rose and pulled him close, wishing she could comfort him. How could she marvel at her own actions and not recognize the guilt he must bear for so many difficult moments? Her hand landed over the bulge of his necklace. Had it failed to function because she pulled it away from proper time? Had she damned them all by bringing it with her? “Why do you think it did not work?” she asked quietly.
Soulless (Maiden of Time Book 2) Page 23