by Cara Lake
A shiver of ice-cold fear ran the length of her spine and Cassi began to think she had made a grave error in judgement. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Merak and Borealis had scheduled the attack for tomorrow morning at first light and had been tweaking their plans when she left. Irina had been gone for over twenty-four hours and had not made contact with Luc as they had expected. Cassi was too worried to sit back and wait. Someone had to go in. And that someone was her. She had decided to form the advance party by herself and do a bit of recon.
The wiccani had scried for Irina’s presence at Abrasax Tower, trying to detect her aura and the result had been inconclusive. The Discordants had effective shielding. Cassi believed that both Tyr and Irina were here somewhere and if she couldn’t find them, she was confident she could at least gauge their whereabouts with a little persuasion. She just had to find someone she could interrogate. Some Discordants were easy prey.
The dark warrior however was not. Up ahead, Cassi could see his large, dark shape. Motionless he stood. Static. A statue formed from the inky chemosh shell of his armor, a black absorption of light. She felt the familiar tingle of expectation. Her powers rushed wildly, surging through her veins. Perhaps finally she would be able to vanquish the darkness, not only his, but also the heavy weight of grief and guilt that had crushed her soul since the last Realignment eight hundred years ago. If only she could dissipate the nightmares of their previous encounters. He was alone. She had the advantage.
Cassi mentally drew on all her Eunomi energy, her innate wiccani powers centering the flow at her core. She continued down the corridor toward him, swords in hand, her favored chemosh blades the perfect foil for his armor. She had only managed a few steps when the warrior shifted. Turned. His dark mask almost sucking her forward into a pitch-black hole seething with nightmarish intent. He stood facing her, hands by his side but made no move toward her, his own sword slung over his back. Pinpricks of anticipation. The energy surge sizzling through her blood.
The warrior lifted his arm palm flat facing upward toward the ceiling. He raised his fingers twice in a “come here” gesture. Commanding. No. Demanding!
Cassi was suspended in that moment. A crash of images rapid fired into her brain. Past clashes and bitter recriminations. The urge to attack was powerful but something held her back. Some elusive notion hovered in her subconscious. This warrior was dangerous. Oh, she knew. She knew just how dangerous. He was responsible for one of her biggest regrets at the last Realignment. If not for him! Anger boiled to the surface and rage overtook.
Launching herself at the warrior, Cassi rotated her blades in a spinning frenzy to intimidate and confuse. Yes he was huge and formidable. She knew. But she didn’t care. It was time for him to pay.
A clash of swords reverberated as the warrior blocked. Cassi felt the strength behind his swing as she arced her own weapons, one slashing up and the other down. Again the warrior blocked. Her body twisted around swinging her swords to follow with the full force of momentum. Their blades sang together, a harmony. They continued the fight in perfect sync, each anticipating the other, blocking and slicing. Cassi’s blood heated. She felt as if she were dancing with the warrior, a continuous waltz to the rhythm of each connecting blow. A deep growl reached her ears over the ringing pitch of clashing blades. “We…have…met…before.”
The warrior’s words were a staccato stroke across her skin. The velvety tones a dark caress. Gritting her teeth she managed to spit out a reply. “This time you lose!”
He blocked again. “I never lose.”
“There’s a first time for everything!”
“And a last.” His words sounded almost regretful. The loud ring of steel sang out as Cassi pressed forward again. The warrior paused for a fraction. “No!” he suddenly cried. “Don’t kill!”
Cassi faltered bewildered. A weight to her head. Stars before her eyes. Blackness. Spots. She blinked. The warrior’s dark mask swam in front of her face, a blur as it merged into a pair of piercing brown-hazel eyes flecked with green, visible through the rectangular slit. “Leave her!” A threatening growl. Strong arms grasped her waist as her legs gave way. “Leave her!”
“Yes, oh Lord of Thunder,” said a whiny voice from behind. Another growl. “She is mine!” The iron clamps encircling her then lifted her whole body off the ground. She tried to struggle, twisting to escape the dark warrior’s embrace. The darkness blinked again. “Why do you continue to fight?”
The dark shape dissolved into mist as Cassi dizzied in and out of consciousness. The face of an angel, hazel eyes, green flecks filling her clouded vision. “Siti.” The final words she heard, “Siti, sleep.”
The soft press of flesh against her lips before darkness overtook.
“Cassi, Cassi, wake up!” A hand shaking her arm. An insistent familiar voice. “Cassi. Come on.” The fog cleared as vision blinked to awareness. Cassi’s head throbbed. “Why am I not dead?” she moaned sitting up groggily. Irina’s face more clearly visible, slid into view through the gray shadows. “I’m so glad you’re not dead.” Irina’s voice heavy with regret.
“And I’m so pissed you disappeared off on your own!” shouted Cassi, past events resurfacing through the haze of her brain. “What the hell were you thinking?”
Irina had the decency to look contrite. “Well, clearly I wasn’t really thinking.” She grimaced shrugging her shoulders. “How did you get here?”
Cassi sat up slowly, rubbing her head and studied the confines of the space. Her eyes alighted on the two other forms curled up on the far side of the room. “Where is here, and who are they?” she asked.
“I guess this is Abrasax Tower. Them, I don’t know. They’re not lucid.”
One small form was huddled, hands across knees that were pulled up to her chin, her body rocking in continuous motion. The other shape remained a curled fetal ball against the wall.
“Tell me what happened to you,” said Cassi, returning her thoughts to Irina. “Why did you leave? You were safe on Lyra.”
“I had to try and find Tyr,” she explained dejectedly. “I wanted to find him before Merak and the warriors kill him. I can’t let myself believe he is a lost cause, Cassi. There has to be an explanation for what he did.”
Cassi hugged her close. “Irina, I’m so sorry. I’d like to believe better of him, but the evidence…”
“I know but—” Irina broke off as struggling to find the words to explain. “But I know him better than you. I…we…” She faltered.
“Oh my god!” Cassi’s blue eyes widened in astonishment. “I didn’t realize it had gone that far with you both. When?”
“The night he left. That’s how he took the pendant. He was in my room and it was on the nightstand next to the bed.”
“The bastard!” Cassi could feel Irina’s sorrow. She felt helpless. Another reminder of eight hundred years ago. This Realignment was shaping up to be nothing more than a complete re-enactment of the last one. She wouldn’t let Irina go under. Not this time. Her thoughts turned to practicalities. “Irina, who helped you through the starportal?”
“Cassi. I was betrayed. It was Alcina who helped me. She said she was helping me because of my mother, but the Discordants knew where I was. They were waiting for me. I don’t understand it but she was the only one who knew where I was going, unless someone else overheard us.”
Cassi was dumbstruck. “Alcina! I’ve known her for years. Why would she?”
“I don’t know.”
“She did say she’d accidentally given Tyr some pointers about portal travel, maybe it wasn’t quite so accidental.” It was unbelievable. Alcina was a trusted member of the Eunomi. She had been a close friend of Irina’s mother!
They both fell silent. Irina broke the silence. “What about you? Why are you here?” Cassi shrugged and pulled Irina into a hug.
“I came after you, stupid. I couldn’t wait for the others. Unfortunately I let my guard down against the dark warrior and they caught me. They cheated!” Ca
ssi was indignant. “Smashed me over the head from behind!” She frowned as she spoke, struggling to recall the events that had led to her capture. “It was weird though,” she whispered. “I could have sworn he was annoyed they did that.”
“Who’s the dark…” began Irina as a loud rattling noise sounded from the door and it swung open, revealing two large guards in black. They entered the room and grabbed Irina and Cassi roughly by the arms.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The torture session was still echoing in his brain and Tyr could still hear the screams of the victim. Abrasax had grabbed the whip and struck the final blows, too excited by the stench and terror emanating from the bloodied wretch as he twisted and twitched in the agony of his final death throes. After wiping the blood from his hands, Abrasax had invited Tyr into his office for some liquid refreshment and a heart-to-heart. Tyr had felt grateful for the strong bourbon but only downed one. He needed to keep focus.
“That was rather invigorating, don’t you think?” Abrasax studied Tyr, a calculating gleam in his eye.
“If you say so,” Tyr responded with a shrug of his shoulders.
“I expect you prefer the adrenaline rush of hand-to-hand combat. But there is nothing like the rush that comes from knowing you have total control. Power over life and death.”
“I guess power does have advantages,” replied Tyr. “Is that what the Discordants can offer me?”
“With both essences harnessed through the pendants, the Discordants will be able to dictate the outcomes of war. You as War will be able to dictate who the victors are and they will bow to your commands.”
“So I would have total control?”
“You will need to swear an oath to Choronzon, Lord of the Abyss. He holds ultimate power within Discordant circles. However, your loyalty, once given, will be rewarded. I am sure Choronzon will offer you a prime territory, here on Earth if you wish—or perhaps on Ophiuchus if you prefer.”
Tyr nodded as if considering the offer. He needed to hold off on making any oaths, as he was quite certain that if broken, an oath to someone who styled himself Lord of the Abyss would probably result in various parts of his anatomy in pieces and scattered into the actual abyss.
At that moment the phone on Abrasax’s desk rang and he took the call. Whatever it was made him smile and he rushed off to deal with his urgent business just as Rusalka returned and Tyr found himself on the couch being sized up by a very determined predatory female. He needed to turn that to his advantage.
Rusalka slunk toward him, her moist skin glistening with dew. What is she? “Well, luscious War,” she drawled, “it’s nice finally be alone with you. I have to say, I love your wrist action. The way you flick your whip had me all a-tingle.” She wiggled her hips suggestively. “You were so dangerous. I thought you and I might play.”
Tyr nodded at the compliment. “I heard you like to play,” he said. “Are you up for a game?” Her eyes brightened and she licked her lips.
“Always,” she replied with a sultry smile. “What kind of a game?”
“Truth or dare.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t know this one. Is it an Earthani game?”
“Yes. I’ll teach you.”
“I’ll bet you’re a good teacher.” Hands caressed his chest. Her touch did nothing but make the fine hairs on his neck stand to attention. “You start. Which do you choose: truth or dare?”
“Mmmm.” She considered for a moment. “Dare.”
“I heard you have your own personal playroom or is it a torture room? I dare you to show me.” She raised her eyebrows and slid closer.
“I didn’t realize you were so into playing in that way. It doesn’t all have to be torture though; sometimes it can be quite…pleasurable.” Rusalka slid closer again so that one arm was draped across his knee, the other hand rubbing cold, clammy fingers on his neck.
“Well then, I’ve dared you to show me.” Tyr focused on her expression intent on persuading her to take him to her playroom. Rusalka considered for a moment.
“Perhaps I will,” she purred silkily, “after we have finished playing this game.”
“You’re not playing properly unless you complete the dare,” replied Tyr, inwardly cringing as her fingers continued to stroke his neck, her lower hand inching toward his groin. She made his skin crawl. There was something soulless in her eyes that repelled and all he could do to continue this game was to cling to the memory of beautiful, warm liquid gold eyes. They were his lifeline.
“I will,” she promised, “but we will have to wait for Abra to come back. He did say I was to stay here and entertain you.” Her hand began rubbing his crotch. Tyr was thankful his body did not respond. “It’s your turn now.”
“Truth.”
Her eyes glanced to his lower body in disappointment from the lack of reaction. “Do you find me attractive?” Her tongue licked his cheek.
“You are beautiful.” He said it without hesitation and it was the truth. She was an exquisite creature. To look at. He didn’t need to mention her repulsive personality.
Her tongue moved to his ear. A shudder ripped through Tyr’s body and he felt the hairs on his neck straighten again. Rusalka responded more feverishly, interpreting his revulsion as desire.
“I choose truth now,” she whispered in his ear. “Ask me anything.”
“I heard you keep two girls in your playroom. Is this true?”
Rusalka hesitated, her eyes flickering up to his face, lust evident in her gaze. “So you would like to have party in my playroom, would you? A war party perhaps?” She released a throaty gurgle, pleased with her own joke.
“Well I guess that depends on the girls. Who are they?”
“Oh, just two dark sisters I inherited, fallen on hard times. I like to think I’m educating them.”
“Are your playmates unwilling then?” Tyr pursued his line of questioning trying to discern her meaning. It sounded as if the two girls could be Melanie and Delora.
Rusalka withdrew her caressing and licking, slight traces of ire in her tone when she replied. “You seem rather too interested in them, War. I thought this game was about you and me. Let’s get back on track now. It’s your turn again and you should choose dare.”
Tyr had an idea where she was going with this and was reluctant to make the next move, but he knew that if she had doubts about him then Abrasax would be informed and then it would be Game Over. “Okay,” he said, trying to sound enthusiastic. “What do you dare me to do?”
“Now you’re talking.” She slithered her body across his chest. “I dare you to kiss me.”
Her request came as no surprise but still every fiber of his being rebelled against the draw of Rusalka’s lips. His body tensed as she pressed into him, her face mere inches from his. Tyr steeled himself against her touch. Sometimes you have to sacrifice a pawn if you want to save the queen. Unfortunately in this instance he was the pawn! He steeled himself as she draped her body over him and leaned in for the kiss.
Tyr immediately felt a familiar static energy enter his body that had nothing to do with Rusalka and everything to do with a pair of liquid amber eyes that bored into his as he turned his gaze to the opening door. “Well hello. Apologies for interrupting your playtime, Rusalka.” Abrasax’s familiar voice brimmed with satisfaction. “Tyr, I believe some acquaintances of yours have come to pay us a visit.” He grabbed Irina by the arm and pulled her forward into the room.
Liquid eyes met black. Fire raged in the dark. Gold eyes blazed in fury then quickly dispelled the flames, leaving only a blank emptiness. They have Irina! Tyr’s nails dug into his palm in shock and a rage so strong that every muscle in his body strained toward her. He registered Moloch’s grip on her arm and nearly flew at him. Somehow he stayed the motion, his strategic brain calculating the odds and speculating that they weren’t good.
The sight of Cassi standing behind, gripped by Dagon only intensified his anger. She should have known better. Kept Irina away. Lyra was safe. H
e’d left word with Alcina to tell Irina he would return, so what the hell had gone wrong? Why were they here?
The next few minutes for Tyr unfurled like a slow-motion replay from a live-action movie. Irina stumbled forward, her emotions written clearly on her face, moving from initial shock to denial, then ferocious anger as she stared horrified between the Tyr and the woman fused against him. Her small frame trembled and he thought she was going to collapse. He was wrong. She tore her arm free from the grip that held her in place and with explosive force launched herself at Rusalka, wrenching her by the hair and ripping her off his lap. “Get away from him, you bitch!” she screamed, the sound of her fury matched by the force of her attack.
Rusalka appeared momentarily stunned by the hurricane that was Irina. Recovering, she uncurled herself from the floor where she had landed, having been swung around by her long tresses. “You’ll pay for that, little girl!” she hissed, a snarl of venomous poison in her voice as she regained her balance, charging back at Irina, sharp claws unsheathed, razor-like nails aiming for her face.
Tyr’s first instinct was to kill Rusalka himself to protect Irina from harm. He couldn’t, but he needed to make some kind of intervention or Rusalka would carve Irina to pieces. Biting the bullet he reined in his need for Rusalka’s blood and instead planted his massive frame in front of Irina, a barrier separating the warring factions, preventing her attack and eventual massacre. Irina could not be hurt. Not ever. Rusalka was a formidable fighter. He could tell by the way her body moved that she was well versed in martial arts. His little dove wouldn’t last five seconds in combat against her.
Pushing Rusalka away, he turned to face Irina in an effort to quell her anger. Immediately he felt the crack of that same little dove’s palm connect with his cheek, the sting of her hand a sharp twisting stab to his soul. She rained more blows with her small fists onto his chest her head barely reaching where she hit. He hardly felt the pain on his skin but he felt it intensely elsewhere, a garrotte around his heart. He knew it was deserved. Tyr grabbed hold of her wrists as she struggled to get free. “Leave her alone, Irina,” he warned.