Sol . . . I pity you.
“Yeah.” Ian lowers his hand with a rueful smirk. “Do you think she’ll like it?”
He catches what he said too late, a scowl settling on his face. There’s no need to ask who the “she” in question is.
“Ianthen, of course she’s gonna love it. Hell, if she doesn’t ride your face the moment she sees you, I will personally consider her insane. And will tell her so, too.”
Ian gives me a huge smile, his frustration mollified.
Good deed for the day done.
“Why are you here?”
He shrugs. “Because there was no one else to watch over you.”
Oh, great. Now I need round-the-clock nannies? “And where is everyone?”
“Dyletri is with Ismini in their room. She’s fluctuating, bad. Real bad.”
Reminded of what happened to my friend, I sit up, panic racing through me. “How is she? How bad is it? How long have I been out?”
Ianthen holds up a hand. “Easy there. You were out for two days. Healthwise, Ismini’s alright. It’s her powers that are all over the place. Her room and anyone that comes near it . . . well, that’s the bad part. Everything keeps either changing color or into a different material altogether. Dyletri seems to be helping her control it some, though, so Vedlyl and Nylicia have advised that everyone else stay clear.”
“And Soleria? Where is she?”
Ianthen’s jaw twitches. He looks like he’s swallowed a bitter-tasting rock and is in the process of forcing it down his throat. “She’s fine. She’s . . . consoling . . . Cyake.”
Oh.
Fuck.
“‘Consoling’ Cyake? And what exactly is wrong with him?” I wonder if it has to do with him being out of whack, and the old lady he claims is haunting him.
Ian shrugs again, turning his head. “I have no idea. I didn’t even know something was wrong with him.”
The statement has an echo the size of an atomic blast behind it. Two sentences, a million things left unsaid, and enough resentment behind them for me to clue into what’s happening.
Ian and Cy are best friends from what I know. Cyake hasn’t told his best bud about what’s happening to him, yet. And . . . Soleria has taken it upon herself to console Ianthen’s bro.
Knowing Sol, the consolation probably entails something slightly inappropriate.
Jesus Christ, Sol, what are you doing?
A blind person can see that Ianthen is into her, really into her, and Soleria knows how close he and Cyake are.
Later. I’ll find out what the hell Sol is doing later. First, I have to find Zen. The urge to see him is a hot needle-point, poking repeatedly at my mind, body, and soul. It isn’t that I forgot how angry I am at him—or my promise to stay away from him.
I just can’t stay away from him right now. It just isn’t possible.
Lord, how he suffered, the things that were done to him. I’ve only seen but a glimpse, know only the bare facts. It must have been worse. Probably much, much worse than I imagine.
Five-hundred years of never-ending agony. No wonder his mind snapped in half.
And I love the fucker. No matter what, it won’t change. I love him more than should be possible. The mating augments the fact. It’s also demanding that I lay eyes on him, check up on him.
Once I know he’s alright, I’ll beat his ass for being such a fool, then I can return to confront my friend and see just what game Soleria is playing.
At least, that’s the plan. But first, I need help to find Zen.
“Where’s Nylicia?” I swing my legs over the edge of the bed.
“Whoa. Where do you think you’re going? I need to get Ved in here to check you out now that you’re awake.”
Yeah, okay. Check me out. I don’t need the doc coming in here and telling me what I already know.
Evesse . . . you are fucked.
“Evesse! Something’s clearly happening to you, too. Let me get Ved, Nylicia was with him, last I saw anyway.”
Nylicia appears in the room the moment Ianthen finishes speaking, followed by Cyake rather than Vedlyl.
Cy throws an apologetic look at Ianthen, one that Ianthen scowls at before turning away, arms crossed.
I don’t waste any time confronting Nylicia. “What did you do to me?”
“Made you freaking awesome, what else? Say thank you.”
“No. I’m serious, woman.”
She just stares at me, eyebrows raised.
I narrow my eyes at her. Fine. I’ll try another tactic. “You showed a vision of me to Zeniel when he first woke up, didn’t you? At least answer me that question.”
Nylicia’s expression is perfectly schooled as she sits daintily on the edge of my bed, legs crossed. How she’s doing that, considering she’s some sort of freaky projection, I don’t know.
“Having visions, I see. The connection with your R’mann’s past is such a nuisance, isn’t it? But I’m glad you’re seeing them.”
My chest clenches tight at the memories Nylicia’s words evoke. “They’re killing me, Nylicia. How could any of you allow that to happen to him?”
“It was my fault,” Cyake says, just as Nylicia replies, “It had to happen.”
They scowl at each other.
“It had to happen because I opened my big mouth.”
“Well, your mouth is big, there’s no denying that. But”—Nylicia studies her nails—“you are the God of Divination-slash-Voice of Fate. You’d be even more, but you’re a pussy.”
“You mean I’m their bitch. Every time I’ve given in and spoken for them, someone gets fucked up the ass. Sometimes figuratively. Sometimes not.”
Nylicia lowers her hand and stares blankly in front of her. “You’ve done it five times in your entire existence, you old motherfucker. Five.”
Cyake crosses his arms stubbornly. “And none of them has worked out well so far.”
I blink, staring between the two of them.
Ianthen raises an eyebrow at Cy. “Yeah. You’re totally the biggest asshole in all of history.”
Cyake glares at him.
“This time will work out,” Nylicia says, looking up at me from under her brows. “Besides, I’m just trying to make it easier on all of you. If you don’t want to believe me? Fine.”
I turn and storm towards the second thing I ever materialized—my weapons closet.
I’m epically frustrated. Death, immortality, powers, prophecies, mating; mates keeping bullshit secrets. I’ve had enough.
I’ll locate Zeniel on my own.
In the far corner of the rectangular room, the marble wall morphs and then slides open, revealing the space I added shortly after my self-imposed week of isolation. Inside it, I materialized a copy of every weapon I could think of. Guns line the walls, gleaming and polished. A grenade launcher sits in a glass display case along with several different sized knives.
Dimithinia pops into the room, gold Skullcandy headphones covering her ears. Her fingers fly across the surface of her phone as she turns off whatever she was listening to. She removes her headphones. “Nylicia, you wished to see me?”
I scowl, taking in the long, baggy black trench coat Dimi is sporting. That’s new.
“Yeah. I have a mission for both you and Eve. Real important.”
Didn’t she hear anything I said before? Turning slightly, I point at Nylicia’s mien. “I’m not doing shit for you or going anywhere until you come clean. You mentioned powers before you knocked me out. What did you do to me?”
CHAPTER 25
EVESSE
“I made you more powerful. It’s that simple,” Nylicia replies with a shrug.
I lower my finger. I almost believe Nylicia. Almost. If she were anyone else, I would’ve swallowed that load of crap without thinking twice.
But after knowing her for six weeks, I’ve come to learn that nothing is ever simple when Nylicia is involved.
“This is important, Eve. We need the information I’m about to send you
to get. Besides, you want to find Zen. I swear to you that this is how you will find him.”
The mere mention of Zen grabs onto my mated mind, funneling my purpose into one point alone. Damn the freaking R’mannev. It isn’t giving me any choice other than to go after my mate.
“Fine.” I storm back into the weapons closet. “He better be where you’re sending me. And this isn’t over!”
“Of course it’s not.”
Dimithinia appears behind me, followed closely by Nylicia, who nods while looking around. “Nice collection. Needs some improvement, though.”
I pause before the knife display and face Nylicia. There’s no doubt about what that means. I’m getting good at reading that little demon pixie. “Give us what you’ve got, then.”
Light flashes behind me, and a blast of cold ripples through the air. On top of one of the glass displays are two large, alien-looking guns.
“Are those upgraded terets?” Cyake asks, walking closer. “Sexy. They look like the US military’s PHASR prototypes. Nice, Nylicia. Real nice.”
He and Ianthen stare at the weapons as if they’re hot women, practically salivating.
Not that I blame them.
“Yes,” Nylicia says. “The old ones were only capable of shooting one beam at a time. Still useful, I know, but considering that design was stolen and replicated . . . ”
Stolen and replicated? My stomach bottoms out, but before I can ask Nylicia what she means, she looks at me. “See that circle on the left side? That’s a sensor. Place your thumb on it.”
“Wait. What do you mean stolen and replicated?”
“I’ll explain another time. For now, please do as I say. You have to leave as soon as possible if you want to make it in time.”
I place my thumb on the circular, glass-like area Nylicia indicated. As soon as I do, the gun comes to life, white light blazing beneath my finger. The light begins moving, scanning my thumb, then morphs from white to red, black, and yellow.
Colors I know very well. “What just happened?”
Nylicia shakes her head. “Thumb back on the sensor, if you will. We aren’t done yet.”
I glare at her but do as I’m told. Immediately, the colors of my aura pulse through the gun. There seems to be a pattern within the pulses, almost as if the teret is poised for something.
“It’s waiting on your command,” Nylicia says, answering my unspoken question. Her eyes are soft and proud as she stares at her creation. “Now, tell it to rise to level four.”
My eyebrows rise in surprise. “Tell it?”
“Think it. Same thing. Now do it.”
With a shrug, I turn back and focus on the gun. There are nine circles running up the barrel. The moment the thought begins forming in my head, light flares within four of them.
I remove my thumb off the sensor and step back. “It can read my mind? This gun can read my freaking mind.”
A blur races past me. “I want one!” Dimithinia launches herself at the second teret, gleefully lifting it and placing her thumb on the sensor. Black, dark purple, and silver dance through the chambers. She almost looks ridiculous, barely five-foot-four with that three-foot weapon in her arms.
“I want one, too.”
No surprise, that was Cy.
Nylicia sighs. “You don’t get one. Not yet.”
“What? Why?”
“I have something I need you and Ianthen to take care of. Evesse and Dimithinia, I’ll meet you at St. John’s Hospital in New York. Queens, in case you forgot.”
“Wait, do you mean the abandoned hospital on Queens Boulevard?” Out of the corner of my eye, I see the two terets disappear.
“One and the same. Rooftop. Give me fifteen minutes.” Nylicia stops before leaving, glancing at Dimithinia.
The ex-queen is glaring down at her hands with a priceless expression; she obviously wants her new toy back.
“You’ll get it back when you need it. Trust me. Cyake, Ianthen, meet me in the viewing chamber.” With that, Nylicia disappears, leaving the four of us staring at each other.
“Be careful, you two.” Cyake cups my shoulder. “Keep your phones on and close to you. I’ll meet up with you guys as soon as I can.”
I nod. “Will do. Thanks.”
“I’m going to be watching over Soleria when I’m done. But I’ll have my phone. Call me if you need me,” Ianthen says.
I thank him as well before he and Cyake disappear.
Dimithinia slides her phone out of her pocket. “Well, let us be on our way. Abandoned hospice it is.”
“Hospital, Dimithinia. The appropriate word is hospital.”
Cars zoom by on the boulevard below, their lights a blur.
I rest my foot on the ledge in front of me and look down at the street. I squint, out of habit, even though my vision can now zoom in and out like a camera lens.
The blurs become focused, detailed. Every detail registers almost instantaneously. With one look, I already have a mental picture of every car, every face in front of the mall on the other side of the street.
I can even tell what brand of handbag the woman on the corner has.
I’m never going to get used to this.
A spark of deep red comes to life around one of the people below.
No, not one. There are two. And three. Then four.
My gaze darts from person to person. Not everyone has the blood red mist curled around them, but a lot of them do.
Men, women. Old, young . . . even a few children.
My senses fire, signals I don’t understand shooting painfully into my mind. I become desperate to erase the images coming to life inside the mist around the people below.
Sins.
I’m seeing the sins of the humans.
I cup my mouth with my hand, feeling sick. Out of the few hundred people I can see on that side of the boulevard, at least six have committed heinous crimes.
Guilty . . .
I squeeze my lids shut tightly. The images won’t go away. A tall, broad man with glasses who’s crossing the street to the White Castle murdered someone. Inside his mist, what looks like a ghost remains, clawing at him, her eyes panicked, her mouth open on a silent scream.
She had been a teenager when he killed her.
I growl, opening my eyes and focusing on the man again. My fingers curl. I jump on the ledge, ready to vault, teeth bared as I stare at his back.
That’s my target.
That’s who I need to punish.
Yes, punish.
I’m a breath away from pouncing, when something catches my attention from the corner of my eye.
Dimithinia’s frozen, her now black eyes fixated below. Her stance is stiff, legs spread and back straight, her own fingers flexed into claws.
She’s holding herself back from doing something.
The ex-queen’s mouth opens slowly, her voice hissing out in a double whisper. The word she utters makes my heart plummet. “Death.”
“Come again?”
Dimithinia’s fingers flex. Her eyes jump around, her brow furrowing with distress. “I see death. The ones that are going to die. How . . . I see how they . . .”
I step back, heart racing. What the hell is happening to us?
“The emergence of powers. It can be a headache. I would know. Thousands of years later and I’m still developing new ones.”
Dimithinia blinks and turns at the same time I do.
Holy . . . “What the fuck?” I almost don’t recognize the Nylicia that’s standing before us.
Her body is surrounded by black wisps of energy. I can still see through her, but she’s the most corporeal I’ve ever seen her. Her black dress ends in a trail of mist. The top molds to her body, and the deep, strapless V frames her breasts. Her hair’s loose, the dark strands falling to her waist and merging with the maelstrom around her.
There’s a choker around her throat, one that has tendrils of that black energy slithering out and flaring behind her.
“What the�
�”
“What you see when you look at the humans is a result of your powers,” Nylicia says calmly, beginning to walk towards us as if nothing is wrong.
As if she doesn’t resemble a creepier version of Morticia Adams come to life.
“My powers?” I stare at Nylicia’s feet. “And on another note, what the hell is wrong with you?”
The closer she gets to us, the more I can see that she isn’t really wearing a dress. It only looks like she is because of the way that black smoke encircles her. Leather pants and fighting boots peek out with each step Nylicia takes.
She stops and stares down at the street.
“I’m worried.” She says it so easily; a simple statement of fact, yet her eyes turn black as she studies the mall below. “I’m showing you a projection of myself from deep within my mind. Unfortunately, that also means that I resemble my deepest emotional state like this.”
“So, this is what you look like pissed off?”
Nylicia looks at me. Her eyes are wide and unblinking while the black inside her irises starts to spread to the rest of her eyes. “No. I’m worried. I told you.”
Well, then. I would hate to see what pissed off looks like.
“Back to the issue of your powers.” Nylicia’s gaze focuses somewhere in front of her.
I frown as what she said earlier finally registers. “What powers are we talking about?” In my memory, I see Nylicia waltzing into the main hall of Enzyria with that colorful, glowing Aristi and flinging it at Ismini.
“I gave you the powers of Justice.”
“WHAT?”
“Shit,” Dimithinia whispers.
Nylicia gives me a creepy smile, half-vacant and half-vicious. “She was one of the goddesses who died during the last war. You were destined to take in her powers.”
Dimithinia raises an eyebrow at me. “Goddess of Justice, huh?”
“I . . . I . . .” My mind revolts. “And you tell me this now?” I growl at Nylicia. “Why me? I’m not suited for that shit!”
I’m really, really not. The gods help me.
Nylicia shakes her head. “But you are. More than anyone else in existence today. You were destined for this from the moment you first appeared on my radar.”
Ryze Series: Books 1 & 2 Page 44