Darkness Possessed (Order of the Blade)

by Stephanie Rowe

  “Rhiannon?”

  There was another crash from upstairs, and then she heard footsteps pounding down the stairs of her building. “Oh, God. I have to go!” She started to run. She knew she could never outrun them, but there was no other option.

  “Wait!”

  She spun around toward Jordyn. “What?”

  Her boss held up a set of car keys. “Want a ride?” She clicked the button, and the car right next to Rhiannon beeped. It was a Porsche, built for speed.

  She didn’t even bother to answer. She just lunged for the passenger door and yanked it open. By the time she had shut the door, Jordyn was already in the seat beside her, jamming the keys into the ignition.

  As the engine roared to life, the two Calydons burst out the door to her apartment building. They spotted the Porsche immediately, and lunged toward it. Jordyn calmly shifted into drive and jammed the accelerator. The little car exploded forward, leaping out into the deserted street.

  Rhiannon twisted around in her seat, watching as the two Calydons broke into a sprint, chasing after them. “They’re coming.”

  “Is one of them a runner?”

  Rhiannon glanced at her boss. “A runner?”

  “A Calydon whose gift is speed,” Jordyn said calmly, with the knowledge of a woman who had seen it all. “That’s the only kind who could catch us in this pretty baby.”

  Rhiannon twisted around, and saw with relief that their two pursuers were fading into the night. “No, it doesn’t look like it.” She leaned back against the seat and watched her boss, a woman who shot men, drove a Porsche, knew about Calydon traits, and wasn’t fazed by having an employee who could control plants. “Who are you, Jordyn? How do you know so much about Calydons? You didn’t even blink an eye about what I can do. What are you?”

  Her boss looked over at her, and her face was grim. “I’m half of what I used to be,” she said quietly.

  “Which is what?”

  Jordyn shook her head. “Half of what I used to be,” she repeated. She looked at Rhiannon. “I am a sheva,” she said quietly. “I killed my soul mate to try to save our daughter. I was too late. They’re both dead, and now I try to save women from the bad men they love.”

  Tears filled Rhiannon’s eyes, springing free before she could stop them. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She knew that pain. She knew that pain so well. “Your soul mate went rogue?” She glanced at Jordyn’s forearms, but she was no longer carrying the brands of her mate. Was that because he was dead? Would death really free a woman forever from her soul mate?

  Jordyn nodded. “Yes indeedy. It was a grand old time.” She didn’t bother to hide the pain in her voice.

  Rhiannon looked away, fighting against memories that would haunt her forever. “At least he had the excuse of being rogue,” she said softly. “At least he was insane when he hurt you and your daughter.”

  Jordyn managed a grim smile. “He was a good man before he went rogue,” she said quietly. “I loved him, before he tried to kill me and murdered all our friends and family. It’s hard to remember the good man, sometimes.” She looked over at Rhiannon. “I have never been as scared as I was the night he went rogue. No woman should ever have to be afraid of the man she loves. Ever.”

  Rhiannon understood then. She understood it all. When a Calydon bonded with his mate, he was destined to go rogue and destroy everything that mattered to either of them. Fate commanded that the sheva kill him to stop him, and then kill herself in despair over his death. For Jordyn to have killed a rogue Calydon meant she had powers and inner strength that an ordinary woman didn’t have. For her to have been strong enough not to kill herself after she took the life of her soul mate was almost unheard of. “How did you do it? Not kill yourself?” She needed to know, because that was a fear that lurked over her all the time. What if she killed José, and then wanted to die?

  In her heart, that possibility had haunted her for the last five years, the knowledge that if she’d really managed to kill José when she’d escaped, then she should have been so devastated that she would have had to kill herself. She’d been fine, which she’d feared indicated that José was still alive, and now, her fears had proven true.

  Jordyn managed a small smile. “I did. I killed myself eight times. But I had a friend who worked with me to bring me back from the dead. He had skills, and I’m somewhat immortal in my own right. After eight times, my grief had finally abated enough for me to handle steak knives without trying to shove them into my chest.” She shrugged. “I was lucky. Most shevas don’t get that chance to live again once they succumb to the sheva destiny.”

  A cold chill settled in Rhiannon’s bones. She knew she wouldn’t have the luxury of being revived repeatedly until she finally got over her grief. “So that’s why you opened the shelter. To help women who are tied down to the wrong men.”

  Jordyn nodded. “It’s what I do. I’ll do it until the day I die.” She took a deep breath and smiled at Rhiannon. “Where to, sweetheart? What do you think? I can take you to my place. It’s a fortress.”

  “No. A fortress isn’t enough against Calydons like that. You know that.” A fortress wouldn’t be enough against an ordinary Calydon, the kind that Jordyn had killed, and José was even more of a threat. He was so much more dangerous and powerful than any of the others. More than anyone could stop. And yet, she had to find a way to do it.

  Jordyn hesitated, and then nodded a silent assent. “What are you going to do?”

  “I need to go to the airport.”

  “All right. That sounds like a good plan.” Jordyn gunned her engine. “Where are you going?”

  Rhiannon bit her lip. She wanted to say she was running away. She wanted to say she was going to go deep underground and hide again. But she knew it was impossible. Not with José alive. He would find her.

  She shuddered, suddenly feeling cold. José was really alive? Restlessly, she ran her hands over her forearms, over the tattoos that hid the marks that branded her as his sheva. She knew she had no choice. Dear God, was she really going back? She was. She knew she was. It was her only chance at surviving. “South America,” she said quietly. “Home.” No. Not home. No longer home. “Hell.”

  Jordyn glanced at her. “Why go there? You think you’ll be safe?”

  “No. It’s the most dangerous place I could go.” Rhiannon met the gaze of the one woman who might actually understand what she had to do. “But that’s where he is. I have to find him, and kill him before he gets me.”

  Jordyn frowned. “He’s going to kill you?”

  “No. It’s worse than that. I could handle it if that was all he wanted to do.” She bit her lip against the fear hammering at her. She fought off the memories, knowing that if she let herself remember what it had been like, the fear would paralyze her, and she would never be able to go back. “He has to die, Jordyn. It’s the only way.”

  Jordyn stared at her, and for a split second, Rhiannon thought she was going to condemn her. What kind of woman boldly stated she was going to track down the man she was bound to forever and kill him in cold blood?

  But Jordyn didn’t condemn her. Instead, she shocked Rhiannon into silence when she said, “Give me forty-eight hours to get coverage at the shelter, and I’ll go with you.”

  Rhiannon’s throat tightened up even as she shook her head. “I can’t,” she said. “I have to leave now or he’ll find me. I can’t risk your life anyway. If you die, who will help all the women here? This is my battle.”

  Jordyn sighed. “How did I know you would say that?” As she spoke, she reached into her wallet that was sitting on the console between them and pulled out a credit card. She held it out to Rhiannon as the little car hurtled down the highway. “Credit cards leave a paper trail that’s too easy to track. Use mine to book your ticket, and to buy supplies once you get down there.”

  Rhiannon shook her head, touched by the offer, but knowing she couldn’t take it. “I can’t take your money.”

  Jordyn contin
ued to hold it out. “You have to,” she said quietly. “Your only chance is surprise. You’ll never win if he knows you’re coming, will you? If you use your own credit card, he’ll know, won’t he? He’ll track you.”

  Rhiannon bit her lip, then nodded. “Yes. Yes, to everything you just said.” They both knew the truth. She might not win no matter what she tried. But surprise would at least give her a chance.

  Silently, she held out her hand, and Jordyn put the credit card in it. “I’ll pay you back,” she said.

  “I don’t need money,” Jordyn said as she took the exit for the airport. “I just want you to stay alive. Got it? I’ll accept nothing less from you.”

  Rhiannon managed a smile. “You’re a little bossy, you know that?”

  “Of course I am. That’s what makes me so charming.” Jordyn winked at her, and Rhiannon smiled for real.

  A brief oasis before she descended into hell.

  Chapter 6

  You are mine.

  Rohan’s words kept haunting Zach, seeping into his focus as he prepared his end of the campsite for himself, Thano, and the horse. What had he meant when he’d said Zach was his apprentice? It made no sense, but he’d spoken the words with a conviction that had brought ice to his bones.

  Rohan had meant it, and Zach didn’t like it. He didn’t like anything about this situation.

  Zach slanted a look to his left, watching as the remaining members of Rohan’s team finished the trench they’d quickly dug around their campsite. They’d diverted a nearby river so that it flowed around them like a moat. Inside the circumference of the moat they’d set ten-foot torches into the earth around their campsite, spacing them at five-foot intervals. Rohan had told Zach to light them, but Zach had ignored him. He figured being rude and dismissive was better than coming clean that he didn’t have fire anymore.

  Night was falling fast, and in another few minutes, it would be pitch black. The torches and moat had made the campsite small, but Zach had brought Apollo inside the circle anyway. He still hadn’t unstrapped Thano from the horse, and he wasn’t going to, not until he was convinced it was safe.

  Which would most likely be never.

  He spread out the two bedrolls that one of Rohan’s team had offered him, and he checked the water level in the bucket he’d dragged over for Apollo. Something about the tension level of Rohan’s team, and the urgency with which they’d erected those torches had made him pretty sure he didn’t want the horse wandering even those few yards past the torches to the nearby stream.

  They’d even set up torches around the black pit of hell that Trevor was inside, and those were less than a foot apart, as if they had added extra protection for the warrior who wouldn’t be able to defend himself.

  Zach could smell the food cooking over the campfire, but he didn’t join them, deciding to wait until he was beckoned. Rohan had refused to give any more details about the mission, and Zach wasn’t going to prostitute himself by asking.

  Instead, he walked over to Apollo, who was contently eating the plants that Zach had brought in for him. He ran his hand over the horse’s soft nose as he checked the straps holding Thano to the saddle. There were red marks on Thano’s wrists, and Zach grimaced, knowing he had to get the younger warrior into a better position before too long. Yeah, he was immortal like the rest of them, but he wasn’t going to leave him strung up like Trevor. “Soon, Thano. Just hang in there a little longer.”

  “Zachary.” Rohan’s command was like a sharp crack through the night. “It is time.”

  “The guy’s a pig,” Zach said in a low voice to his teammate. “When you’re better, let’s kick the shit out of him together, okay?” He patted Thano roughly on the shoulder and began to turn away.

  Then, curiosity prevailed, and he thumbed back one of Thano’s eyelids. Even in his unconscious state, his eyes were glowing red. The red of rogue. Shit. The kid was in trouble. “I swear to you, I will fix this.”

  He jerked his chin at Apollo, who stomped his hoof, then he turned and walked toward the other warriors.

  As he strode toward them, he took a moment to assess them more carefully.

  All but one of the warriors were seated in a semicircle around the campfire, sitting directly on the ground. Rohan’s team had arrived with five warriors, but two others had joined them, sliding into camp while they’d been setting up, apparently waiting to meet up with them.

  Zach had paid attention, and knew their names now. Eric Hunter, the tallest except for Rohan, was irreverent and bold, reminding him of Thano, only with an edge. Maddox Crowley, who walked with a slight limp, suggesting an injury that even a Calydon couldn’t heal. James Wolfe, who had slipped back his hood once just far enough for Zach to see that he had piercing blue eyes that were like icicles. Zane Hart, who looked like a reject from Hell’s Angels, with his black leather and studded ears. Axel Knight, whose arms were the palest of flesh, almost like a ghost barely holding onto physical form. Ethan Lagat, apparently the youngest one, and the only one he’d ever heard laugh, was standing behind the group facing outwards, as if he were watching the forest.

  Zach recognized Ethan’s ready stance and knew that he’d been assigned first watch. What threat could possibly be so great that six of the most dangerous warriors alive needed to assign someone guard duty even when everyone else was still awake and ready?

  All six of the warriors still had the hoods of their cloaks up, which cast their faces into dark shadow. In the darkness, their black cloaks made them almost impossible to discern. They were like six shadows on which the reflection of the flames were dancing. Zach couldn’t tell the difference between any of them, except for Rohan.

  Rohan stood a good six inches taller than the others. Even in a seated position, his shoulders were well above his team’s, and considerably broader. Given that the other six warriors were all heavily muscled, it was quite a statement. The loose sleeves of their cloaks reached all the way to their wrists, hiding the brands that marked them as Calydons. During the battle with them outside the entrance to the nether-realm, all of them had called out swords. It was unusual to see warriors all carrying the same weapon. In the Order of the Blade, all of the warriors had different ones to call.

  Why did these men all have the same one? And why were they all identical to Rohan’s?

  Zach felt the brands on his own arms burn in anticipation as he neared the campfire. He didn’t like being unable to see the faces of the others. A warrior could tell a great deal from the facial expressions and body language of his enemy, which was probably why they wore the cloaks.

  He was kind of impressed with the effect of the cloaks, actually. It was good stuff. Annoying, from his perspective, but good.

  He crouched beside the fire and took a wooden bowl and spoon from one of the others. It was filled with a stew of some sort that appeared to have assorted vegetables and some kind of meat. He was surprised to hear his stomach rumble, and he realized that he was hungry. It smelled good.

  Silently, he began to eat, spooning the hearty meal into his mouth. He ate fast, unwilling to eat leisurely when he didn’t know what would happen in the next minute or five. “What’s with the torches?”

  No one responded, and he couldn’t feel their energy. He realized that he still had his mental shields up from when he blocked Rohan earlier. Calydons were highly skilled at connecting telepathically with other Calydons when in close range. He wasn’t interested in getting up close and personal with them, but at the same time, he realized those moments when he had felt Rohan smile in his mind had actually helped understand the situation.

  Reluctantly, he eased down his mental shields and opened his mind to theirs. At first, he felt nothing. Then he began to probe, reaching out mentally to connect with them.

  The first thing he felt was fear.

  Fear? From these seasoned warriors? He went still, raising his head to look at the ring of torches around them. “What’s out there?” he asked, with renewed urgency. His weapons were al
most straining at his flesh, reacting to the threat and preparing to defend him.

  It was Rohan who answered. “We are not welcome in this jungle.”

  “I’m beginning to sense that. Did you piss off the folks handing out the party invitations or something?”

  Rohan leaned forward and raised his head to look directly at him. Zach could feel his gaze burning into him. “There are creatures in these woods. Dangers that are unique to this habitat. Calydons, but not like us.”

  “No, not like ‘us.’ Don’t lump me with you guys. I’m not one of you.” He injected a challenge into his voice, daring Rohan to make another bold claim about Zach being his apprentice.

  But he didn’t. He simply said, “You and I are different, yes, but not different from each other the way we differ from the Calydons in this jungle. These are dangerous, even to us.”

  Despite his distrust of Rohan, Zach felt his intrigue beginning to grow. There weren’t many creatures who were dangerous to Calydons. “Dangerous how?”

  Another faint smile from Rohan. “They are empowered by their leader, a young Calydon named José Vasquez. He is molding a new kind of Calydon, a kind far more powerful and more dangerous than any we have seen before. He drives them mad until they go rogue, and then he brings them back to sanity. But they still have the powers from when they were rogue.”

  Zach tapped his spoon on the rim of his bowl as he contemplated this information. “When Calydons go rogue, they’re almost impossible to kill.” That was why the Order of the Blade had been formed, because no ordinary Calydons could ever defeat a rogue. They were so driven with rage and anger that they could not be stopped, sort of like what meth did to humans. The only disadvantage the rogues had was that they were insane, which gave the Order the benefit of intelligence and strategic thinking when trying to defeat them. The idea of a rogue Calydon who was also in possession of his mental faculties…it was almost unthinkable to contemplate how unstoppable that warrior would be.