In the time it took her heart to produce one furious beat, she and Desmond had teleported and stood before the grimy warlocks just as their filth-crusted hands were clutching their swords and about to cleave the Parker’s skulls in two.
Heat ripped through her body as a burst of pure energy surged through her. A tornado of fire whirled in her core before rushing to her arms, saturating them with warmth until her hands blazed. Tiny bolts of silver danced between her fingers, venting wrath like molten lava before the full might of their force erupted. Incandescent fire burst from her fingertips and blasted against the man behind MaryAnn. He never saw her before he was struck down by her torrent of flames. His body staggered backward and his blade fell to the ground just before he did. From the corner of her eye, she saw that Desmond had jabbed his daggers into the throat of the man behind Adam. The grungy warlock had collapsed to his knees and clutched the wounds at his neck that spurted blood faster than he could control. Arianna watched his crimson silhouette hemorrhage garnet rivers.
An inferno still raged from her hands and the filthy being who’d attempted to kill Beth’s mother had been reduced to a mound of ashes when screams tore through the silent morning. Desmond’s head whipped in her direction and she lowered her hands. They stopped what they were doing and teleported toward the sound. But when they reached the side of the house where a door to the basement had been opened, they found three more bodies. All wore their hair in messy, muddy dreadlocks.
“Where are they?” Adam asked frantically when he appeared behind them with his wife.
“Bastard!” they heard Jason shout. They followed his voice and saw that he, Dane and Beth faced off with one more warlock who held a dagger to Avery’s throat.
“Let her go or you are dead,” Arianna commanded him in a rich voice that flowed from a deep hidden source within her.
“You’ll never let me out of here alive,” the man with the blade pressed against Beth’s eleven-year-old sister’s jugular hissed. “You’re a lying bitch! You ruined my future, all our futures, Sola.” He spat her name like bile then pressed the tip of his dagger so that it pierced the tender flesh of Avery’s neck. A thin rivulet of blood streamed from it. She could smell the coppery scent of it and her breathing became ragged. She was nearly panting when he looked to Dane, Desmond and Jason, all armed with their own weapons, and ordered everyone to drop them.
“We can drop our mortal instruments, but our other weapons remain with us,” she reminded him as a small storm brewed between her hands. White flames encircled her fingers and licked at her wrists as images of their burning bodies filled her thoughts. Avery winced as the man wrenched her body closer, poking the blade deeper.
“All right, we’ll drop them,” Dane said through his teeth. He knelt and placed his knife in the grass. As he did Jason hurled his dagger end over end, burying it to its hilt between the eyes of the man who’d held his sister at knifepoint. The man stared, was stunned for a moment, before he toppled face-first to the ground. Avery slipped from his grip and dashed to her parents.
“You idiot! He could have killer her!” Beth’s voice was shrill as she yelled at her brother.
“He would have if we didn’t do what we did!” Dane fired back. “We did not have a choice.”
“Are there more?” Beth did not argue further. Instead, she looked all around her for a split-second. Her eyes rested on Arianna for an answer.
Arianna reached out with all her senses, searching for the vile sensation that had invaded her minutes earlier. She did not feel it anymore.
“They are gone. It was just the six of them,” she said with certainty. “More will follow, though. We have to leave.” Arianna decided that now was as good a time as any to announce her plans to leave, now that the Parkers had come under attack.
“No. You must stay. We can protect you,” MaryAnn said.
“We will call upon others, our allies. They can come here and help us,” Adam added.
“No, I have put you in danger long enough. And then this,” her hand gestured to the dead bodies around them. Guilt swept over her like angry flames devouring a trail of gasoline. “I cannot continue to endanger people I care about, the children, the elders, you guys.”
“I am coming,” Beth said in a voice that left no room for negotiation.
Still, Arianna tried. “Beth, you’ve done so much for me already. I do not want your life in jeopardy a moment longer. Please, stay with your parents.”
“No,” Beth said firmly. “I was born to protect the Sola, you.”
“We’re coming, too,” Dane spoke for him and his brother.
“No, you need to stay and protect everyone here,” Desmond insisted.
“Sorry, man, it’s our destiny. We are sworn soldiers of the Sola,” Dane shook his head, but his eyes never left Desmond’s face. “We do not need some ancient book to tell us that. She is our destiny.”
“What about me? I want to come too,” Avery protested.
Beth bent so that her eyes met her sister’s gaze. “You need to stay here with mom and dad. More scary people like the men that were here a moment ago are out there. They will be following us. We will fight them. But we need you here to protect Grandma and Grandpa, and Ella and Joe. Please Avery, do it for me.”
Avery nodded reluctantly and Beth turned to Arianna and Desmond.
“I know a place we can go,” Dane said.
Arianna thanked Adam and MaryAnn, but knew that her thanks merely splashed the surface of the vast sea of gratitude she felt for them. Words would never be sufficient. She vowed to repay them one day.
She and Desmond, along with Beth and her brothers, returned to the house to gather their belongings and plot their future. After a tearful good-bye, Arianna Rose stepped away from Adam, MaryAnn and Avery then linked hands with Desmond and the others. White light filled her field of vision and warmth encircled her. She felt herself fall away from the Parker’s compound and the only true sense of family and security she’d ever felt, and she was gone.
Chapter 3
Darius exerted little effort sifting from the East coast to Ellsworth Land on the Antarctic Peninsula. This feat was yet another example of the magnitude of his abilities. He was the most powerful being to ever walk the earth. He knew it. And the time had come to show the rest of the world.
True, he’d been banished to a bleak and dark realm for centuries, cast there as a prisoner of sorts by Asus, the first of their kind, the very warlock who’d penned the Tome of Ares. He’d spent four hundred years in exile, all because of Asus and Agnon. Agnon had been Asus’ young apprentice and had not approved of Darius, the fact that he’d grown an army and had prepared to overtake the world. Asus had insisted he wait, that he and every supernatural being on the planet needed to wait for the arrival of the Sola, that she would unite them and initiate their uprising. Darius recalled hearing of her prophecy and snickering. Asus’s face had pinched with wrath as he’d mocked the prediction. He remembered the interaction well, remembered his stern look of disapproval as he’d ordered him to stand down. He also remembered the silly little lapdog, Agnon, nodding with his arms folded across his chest, mimicking his master. The memory was pathetic and made his throat burn with bile. Agnon had pranced behind Asus as the mighty teacher had paced, concurring that it was necessary for him and his army to postpone their coup of humankind. Had Asus stopped short, Agnon would have lodged in his anus, exactly where he belonged. Perhaps then he could have been spared four hundred years of expulsion. But he had not. Instead, Darius had continued his rant and scoffed at being told to wait. He’d complained rather loudly, in fact. He’d cursed and protested, but it wasn’t until he’d issued threats that Asus’ demeanor changed. His threats had caused the sage warlock to condemn him as young and overly aggressive. He’d been labeled impulsive, volatile and unpredictable. Asus had decided then and there that he and his army would be cast to an alternate dimension filled with offenders far worse than he.
His centuries spent
in captivity had taught him a great deal. They had also allowed him to reflect a great deal. But time spent learning and reflecting did not cause him to begrudge his punishment. In fact, he chose to view his banishment as time spent regrouping, sharpening his already razor-sharp skills and become stronger and more powerful. Now, he planned to utilize those sharpened skills and reclaim all that was his, all that he was entitled to. He would assume his rightful throne. But first, he needed to pay a visit to an old friend.
He closed his eyes as he sifted, as his body became one with the earth and wind, and concentrated, grabbing hold of the mental map his memory had preserved of the mudroom of Agnon’s house. A hum of power quickly stirred at his command, echoing from his chest. It flowed down his arms to his fingertips like swelling vibrations of water on thin metal. His entire body burned with the purest of white-hot heat, stinging and itching with need. It demanded release. It compelled him to act. He focused on the ornate chestnut cabinets that flanked a cushioned bench. Beneath the bench square storage compartments sat, a useless component, really. Darius doubted Agnon ever had guests, much less eight of them to fill each compartment. A small gust of wind swirled around him and his insides blazed. He felt alight, as if he were one with the current of air, a tornado of fire. Suddenly, the whitewashed world around him was incinerated. Before his eyes, he saw nothing, just felt the intense glow of molten heat. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, savoring the luminescent warmth, before his body became one with it and disappeared.
When Darius reappeared, he stood before the massive, pretentious furniture of Agnon’s mudroom. He did not bother to remove his boots. Such courtesies were reserved for fragile minded humans who believed their demise awaited them in the form of outdoor germs. Such fools! They remained oblivious of the covens of supernatural beings that resided among them, yet fretted over the common cold.
Agnon, along with the rest of humanity, would likely prefer the arrival of the common cold, or the Ebola virus for that matter, over his arrival. Regardless, he had arrived, and he would never return to the realm he’d left.
Darius left the mudroom and swept into Agnon’s living room like a tidal wave, filling the room with his very presence. He saw the back of a broad-shouldered form seated before a massive hearth. Agnon, he presumed.
“Hello, old friend,” Darius heard the words slip from his lips like ribbons of silk.
His voice caused Agnon to spring from his chair and turn to confront him. He could feel the shift of energy around him before he noticed the subtle glint of surprise in the ancient warlock’s eyes, but he doubted Agnon was as surprised as he was.
Unlike Darius, Agnon had aged dramatically. His hair had grayed and azure eyes that had once rivaled the color of the sky on a clear day had dulled and creased. But that had not been the most alarming aspect of Agnon’s appearance. His face had been disfigured, more than half of it, at least, ruined by burns.
“Looking a little well-done these days, huh, Agnon?” he commented on the puckered skin in a range of shades that varied from charred brown to pale pink that marked his complexion.
Agnon had yet to utter a sound. He remained, unblinking and with his mouth agape, looking every bit the fool he truly was.
“Was your tongue lost in the blaze as well or has age claimed your ability to speak?” he taunted.
“Darius, how did you get in here? You were able to sift?” Agnon asked and attempted a thin smile. Clearly, the mutilated warlock had not anticipated his swell of strength, his ability to circumvent the protective field he’d kept in place around his fortress. Yet Darius had. And here he stood in his home, unannounced and uninvited. Surprise, surprise, old friend, Darius thought and felt the threat of a smile tug his cheeks.
“I wasn’t expecting you,” Agnon admitted and though he smiled, the words dripped off his tongue like venom. Darius was grateful he had not bothered to scramble for a ridiculous platitude about how nice it was to see him. No one wanted to see Darius, least of all Agnon.
“Well here I am,” Darius admitted and spread his arms at his sides before dropping them against his thighs.
Agnon made a clucking sound with his tongue. “Why are you here?” he cut to the chase and asked.
“I am here because I need you to open a portal. I need to bring my men through. I need my army here, and since you were Asus’ lackey, uh, I mean apprentice, you are the only one who holds his secret for doing so.”
The one eyebrow of Agnon’s that had not been burned off brushed the ceiling in shock. “Oh, is that all?” he attempted sarcasm.
Darius felt his blood begin to simmer. “Oh, I wouldn’t take that tone with me if I were you, old man. Not after you allowed the Sola, my bride-to-be, to turn from her destiny.”
“I did no such thing!” Agnon bellowed indignantly.
“Oh save it!” Darius waved a hand and swatted the air before him. “Save that pompous voice for one of the inferior breed you call warlocks these days.”
“You’d be wise to hold your tongue, Darius,” Agnon warned.
“And you’d have been wise if you’d done your job and kept the Sola’s future on course,” Darius hissed. “You let it all fall apart. You! The planet should have been ours by now. Instead, she is in hiding with your traitorous son, Desmond.”
He’d spat Desmond’s name with the disdain it deserved. He watched as Agnon’s scarred features collapsed. “She fell in love with him and turned from her intended path. Her love for him has changed her destiny. There was and is nothing to be done about it.”
“Oh there is something. But I would not trust you to handle it. You’ve already proven yourself to be useless.”
His words drew a reaction from the ancient warlock. Agnon grew still as the threat of violence quivered through the air like the strike of a finely honed blade.
“Oh don’t get your briefs bunched, old man. You know what you did, or rather, what you didn’t do.” Darius smiled. “But do not worry. I am here now. I will put an end to this temporary fling that has distracted her. I will win her over and guide her back on track.”
“She will never leave Desmond for you,” Agnon said smugly. “She loves him. His control over her is too strong for you.”
Darius bristled. How dare the incompetent old buffoon doubt his ability to charm a female? He felt his temper flare. “Ha! Too strong for me! Are you mad?” he huffed boldly. “She may love him, but I can change that. I can change the way she sees him.”
“You can try,” Agnon placed his hands on his hips and said confidently. “But their bond is stronger than any I’ve ever seen.”
“I will show my future wife what a disloyal, loathsome being your son truly is,” he assured the old warlock.
Agnon harrumphed assuredly. “Good luck with that, Darius. Desmond’s love and loyalty to her is unimpeachable. He is devoted to her and she is devoted to him. You will be hard-pressed to convince Arianna of something that is not true, something she does not see with her own eyes.”
At Agnon’s words, Darius’ lips hooked into an amused smile. “Funny you should mention that,” he said. Agnon studied him. He concentrated on the image Agnon’s mind produced of Desmond, saw it like a photograph. Tall and strong with pale hair, skin and eyes, Desmond looked every bit as angelic as his father had depicted him. All that was missing were massive feathery wings. The insight made him want to gag. Still, he needed to replicate the features, so he pressed forward. With the nauseatingly divine picture urging him, he focused. He felt his skin ripple and heard the faint echo of bones restructuring, bending and fusing into place. The sound was akin to old towels being shredded to rags. He felt his spine lengthen, his limbs stretch and thicken, and his shoulders broaden. “She will see what she needs to see,” he said in a voice that was not his own. Agnon gasped and took an involuntary step away from him. Darius had morphed, transforming before his very eyes into Desmond. Agnon’s demeanor indicated he was feeling something between raw violence and total panic. “Funny how things are
n’t always as they seem,” Darius commented coolly then laughed a malignant laugh.
“That’s not possible!” Agnon said, disbelief strangling his words. “Shape-shifting is a myth!”
“Does this look like a myth?” Darius asked haughtily and splayed his arms wide, giving Agnon a full view of his transformation.
“You will not disgrace my son. You will not sully his name,” Agnon said in a quivering voice. Guilt laced his every word and was so thick, it was palpable.
“Disgrace,” he echoed as he concentrated on returning to his former self. Flesh and bone undulated beneath his skin as it resumed its original construction and longer, blonde hair tickled his scalp as it was absorbed. “Now there’s a word you know a lot about. Tell me Agnon, did you feel you were disgracing sonny-boy when you sent your beast to murder him?” he asked acidly and tapped his index finger to his chin. “Or did you think you were honoring him by ordering him executed by Thanatos? I wonder.”
Agnon blanched inasmuch as his charred flesh could blanch. A deep frown further marred his already damaged face. “How did you?” he started and, for a split-second, wondered how Darius knew of his attempt. After all, he’d been in exile for four centuries and had not had contact with anyone from the life he’d known. Then awareness smoothed the few features that could be smoothed. He realized Darius could see his thoughts. He was not a mind reader or anything that painfully tedious. What he saw were images, blurred and softened by emotion that shimmered like heat rolling off desert sands. Darius smirked at Agnon’s reaction. “You...bastard,” Agnon finally managed to choke out. “How dare you?”
“Really Agnon, how dare I? Are you that arrogant still, after all the time that has passed?” He shook his head slowly. “I wasn’t the one who tried to have my only son murdered in cold blood, literally.” Darius laughed at his witty pun. Judging from the grim look on the old warlock’s face, his joke had fallen flat.
“My actions were for our people, for the greater good. I did not shame him. He would have died a clean death befitting a warrior of his station.”
The Arrival: Arianna Rose, #4 Page 4