Dark Enemy Redeemed

by I. T. Lucas

  His eyes blazing, the Doomer snarled, baring fangs that were already at their extended full length.

  In one swift move, Anandur attacked, grabbing Dalhu from behind in a rear blood choke. “Let him go before I break your neck.” He was already applying force that would’ve felled most guys on the spot, but Dalhu was not only still standing, but his grip wasn’t slackening in the slightest.

  “You fucking idiot,” Anandur hissed in Dalhu’s ear, “Amanda is like a sister to us, she could’ve been parading naked in here and no one would’ve even gotten a rise out of it.”

  It was true.

  Regarding all clan females as mothers or sisters had been drilled into them since infancy, and the only thing her nudity would’ve evoked were some snide remarks.

  Something must’ve penetrated the lunatic’s malfunctioning brain and he let go. “I’m sorry,” he said, sinking down to a sitting position on the bed.

  Bhathian rubbed at his thick neck. “You’re a strong motherfucker,” he said in a tone that suggested respect rather than animosity. “If I didn’t get what got you so pissed off, I would’ve killed you.” Again, the guy didn’t sound angry. It had been more of a statement than a threat.

  “Come on, girls. Time to party.” Anandur motioned for them to get back into the living room.

  Dalhu followed, sidling up to Anandur. “Thanks, man, I owe you. But just to be clear, the sisterly attitude doesn’t extend to him.” He tilted his head toward Andrew.

  True. Up until a few days ago, the dude had been pining for Amanda, but being the smart operative that he was, Andrew had realized that it was a losing proposition and had hooked up with the good doctor. Not that it was supposed to be common knowledge, but there was little that escaped Anandur’s notice.

  “Relax, and go get yourself a beer. These beauties cost me eighty bucks a pop, so enjoy while Scotland’s finest lasts.” At just over sixty-five percent alcohol by volume, Brewmeister’s Snake Venom was the strongest beer available commercially and was priced accordingly.

  His plan was to get the guys drunk, fast, especially Kian who needed it most. Problem was, immortals had a high tolerance for alcohol; add to that his clansmen’s Scottish roots, and a barrel of regular beer each would have achieved nothing other than filling the guys’ bladders.

  When all was ready and the rest of the guys had arrived, Anandur texted Kian. Could you stop by Dalhu’s cell for a moment? There is something he needs to show you. It’s important.

  I’ll be there in five.

  “Get in the bedroom and close the door,” Anandur instructed the men. “And take the table with you, I don’t want him to see the food.”

  Brundar and Arwel lifted the thing and carried it to the other room. Dalhu closed the doors to the cabinet housing the bar, and that was it. All traces of party were gone.

  A few moments later the door opened and Kian strode inside.

  “I’m here, so talk. I don’t have much time.”

  “I need to show you something,” Anandur put on a grave face. “Follow me.” He stepped up to the bedroom’s door. “Go ahead, take a look.” He tilted his head toward the door.

  Kian arched a brow, pushing the thing and letting it swing in.

  Immediately, the party horns began blasting and he was pelted with several pounds of hard candy.

  “What the hell?”

  “Party time!” Anandur clapped his back.

  “What’s the occasion?”

  Sometimes the dude was dense.

  “You—getting married.”

  “A fucking bachelor party?”

  “What else?”

  “The tailor is bringing my tux. I have to be there in ten minutes.”

  “No, you don’t. Syssi rescheduled it for tomorrow morning.”

  “So, all of you are in cahoots.” He finally smiled.

  “Yep. Go get yourself a beer. I brought Snake Venom.”

  “Went all out, I see.”

  “Only the best of the best for my best buddy.”

  “I’m touched.” Kian put a hand over his heart.

  The rest of the guys spilled out from the other room, William and Yamanu carrying back the dining table. Once they put it back in place, William stayed nearby to sample the goodies. Yamanu grabbed a beer and parked his ass on the couch next to Brandon.

  “Okay, so where is the stripper you promised?” Michael asked, his speech already slurred after only one beer.

  Lightweight.

  Anandur pretended to check the time on his watch. “Fifteen minutes.”

  A big grin on his puss, Michael saluted him with the bottle.

  Ten minutes later, Anandur ducked into the bedroom and closed the door, locking it behind him.

  Hopefully, Amanda had some sexy lingerie in there. Sifting through the contents of five out of the six dresser drawers that she had appropriated for herself, he found a pair of fishnets that seemed stretchy enough, a lacy bra, a thong, and several silk scarves.

  If he wanted to pull this off, he needed to think creatively.

  There was no way the thong would fit him, and the bra had to be extended by tying a scarf to each end. He tied another scarf around his hips to cover his briefs. The fishnets barely made it past his knees, and after all the tugging and pulling there were a few extra holes in them—with his red curly leg hair poking through.

  Fuck, he’d have to buy Amanda new ones.

  Anandur didn’t even bother to look for Amanda’s shoes. Obviously too small. Which was a shame because high heels would’ve worked better with the torn fishnets than his scuffed combat boots.

  He found Amanda’s makeup case in the vanity drawer and pulled out a red lipstick and a black eyeliner pencil. The thick line he’d painted around his eyes made him look like a raccoon, and he got some of the lipstick on his bushy mustache. He left the eyeliner alone but wiped the smeared lipstick off with a wet washcloth.

  Damn, I look good. He blew a kiss at his reflection before heading out.

  A firm shove had the door to the living room fly open with a bang that caught everyone’s attention.

  Andrew choked, then sprayed beer all over Onegus, who was unlucky enough to stand next to him.

  “Hello, boys.” Anandur sauntered into the room and grabbed his iPod, switching playlists to something slow and sexy.

  “Are you ready?”

  “No, go away, you ugly mutt!” Arwel shouted.

  Anandur ignored him and began his version of a belly dance.

  Between bursts of hoots and hollers, the guys were laughing their asses off. Kian included.

  Anandur smirked and untied the knot holding the bra in place, making a production of slowly sliding the straps off his shoulders.

  “No! Please! Stop! I’m too young to witness such horror!” Michael crouched down and grabbed a fistful of candy from the floor, then chucked it at Anandur. Soon, everyone joined the offensive, forcing Anandur to flee into the bedroom.

  Their laughter continued long after he was gone.

  Mission accomplished.

  CHAPTER 54: DALHU

  “I can’t. I just can’t let you go through with it,” Amanda said for the umpteenth time while pacing like a caged tigress in the confined space of their living room.

  There were tears in her eyes, and the pungent scent of guilt emanating from her body permeated the small space, overpowering what had remained of their recent lovemaking. Which was saying a lot, since they had been at it for hours. The smells of sweat and sex had been so strong that he was sure they had percolated out to the corridor and adjoining cells. It was good that, as far as he knew, they were the only occupants of this basement floor.

  “For the love of Mortdh, fuck!”—Dalhu shook his head—”I can’t believe I invoked that name,” he murmured. “Just give it a rest, will you?”

  Amanda strode up to him. Tilting her head and sticking her chin out, she poked a finger at his chest. “How the hell am I supposed to do that? It’s entirely my fault, my stupidity th
at underestimated Micah’s thirst for vengeance. I never expected her to be this cruel.” She let her head fall upon his chest.

  Wrapping her in his arms, he kissed her forehead. “Anything less would not have been enough, and you know it.”

  “Enough for who?” she whispered.

  “For the clan, for you…”

  “I don’t need it.”

  “Yes, you do. And I want it over and done with. I want nothing to cast shadows over our relationship. I want to be free of the accusing eyes and the hate-filled hearts, and I’m willing to pay any price for it. I will not get what I want by submitting to a punishment that is deemed insufficient by you or any other member of your clan. If I could’ve conceived of something harsher, I would’ve gladly paid even a greater price. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, tears running in rivulets down her cheeks and onto his shirt.

  “You don’t have to watch.”

  “Yes I do, it’s the least I can do.”

  He sighed, caressing her back in small circles. “It will go easier if I don’t have to worry about your reactions. I rather spare you the anguish,” he whispered, hooking a finger under her chin to tilt her head up. “Can you do this for me?” He gazed into her moist eyes.

  After what seemed like long minutes, she nodded.

  Dalhu released a breath he hadn’t been aware of holding. “Thank you.” He took her lips in a tender kiss.

  “Can I at least accompany you there and then leave before it begins? Though if it makes things harder for you, I’ll stay here.”

  “I would love for you to be with me at the start of the ceremony—just looking at you will lend me strength.”

  She reached for him, and her desperate kiss and crushing embrace were a mute declaration of love—nearly as good as a spoken one.

  He was almost there. One whipping and seven days of entombment would get him this most coveted prize. The woman he loved more than anything, more than life itself, would tell him that she loved him back.

  To finally hear her say the words, he would’ve endured this trial ten times over.

  Later, when Kian and Anandur arrived to escort him to the catacombs, he was ready and anxious to get it over with.

  “Shall we?” Kian asked.

  “Lead the way.”

  Dalhu was wearing the attire he’d been given for the ceremony—a short, black robe and loose black pants resembling a judo uniform, but made from some thin silky material, and no shoes.

  He wasn’t the only one who was dressed up for the occasion. Fancy, long robes covered Amanda, Kian and Anandur from head to toe, and he noticed that Anandur had exchanged his scuffed combat boots for a pair of shiny black dress shoes.

  As they made their way in silence, the clicking of Amanda’s heels on the concrete floor was the only sound echoing from the walls of the long, winding corridor. The large chamber they arrived at was surrounded on three sides by recessed niches that had been carved into the stone walls. They were empty, waiting like silent gaping mouths to swallow their future residents.

  Dalhu glanced at the small group of people assembled to witness his trial and, hopefully, subsequent redemption. He recognized some as Guardians by the robes they were wearing, including a tall, muscular woman who must’ve been the Guardian friend Amanda had mentioned. There were two other females present. The one with the smart, sad eyes, wearing a robe in different colors than those of the Guardians, was most likely the legal expert. The one in civilian clothes—who was also the only one seated—was no doubt the bereaved mother, Micah.

  He bowed his head to her, for the simple reason that he had no idea what else to do or say. Dalhu prayed that Kian would do the talking and get the ball rolling. Though he had no idea what to expect as far as procedure.

  There were no chains in sight, no podium, not even chairs, and everyone aside from Micah was standing.

  How were they going to whip him?

  He was relieved when Kian clapped his back and pointed to the spot he wanted him to stand on. But then he realized he would be directly in front of Micah.

  The man standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders looked just as grief-stricken—the pained expression and family resemblance identifying him as either a brother or another son.

  Unable to look them in the eyes, Dalhu felt like the worst of cowards. But Amanda’s presence and, surprisingly, Kian’s gave him strength.

  And there were others.

  He was not alone.

  At least two people in this crowd were rooting for him, Amanda and Anandur. And there was Andrew, who at least believed him to be forthright. Even Kian, who finally seemed resigned to give Dalhu a chance.

  Could’ve been worse.

  Kian raised a hand to get everyone’s attention. “Before we begin Dalhu’s trial, I would like Edna to come forward and search his soul. If she finds that he is harboring nefarious intentions toward us, we will not proceed with this ceremony, and he’ll suffer the same fate as his fellow Doomers—a permanent resting place in our catacombs. If, however, Edna declares his intentions pure, Micah will extend him the offer of redemption through a trial of her choosing. If he accepts her challenge with gratitude and endures it with courage, Dalhu will earn redemption.

  “He will then be granted conditional acceptance into our clan for a period of three years. During that time, he will be watched and tested. If he proves to be loyal and worthy by the end of this trial period, I’ll personally welcome him as a full member of our family.”

  Edna wasn’t a tall woman, and as she came closer and cranked her neck way up to look into his eyes, Dalhu dropped down on his knees, making it easier for her.

  A small smile made a brief appearance on her austere face. “Thank you, that’s very considerate.”

  He took her small, cold hand and placed it over his heart. “My life is in your hands. I wasn’t a good man, and my past is dark, but I have nothing to hide. I’m an open book. My soul may not be worth much, but whatever there’s left of it belongs to Amanda. I pledge my life and my loyalty to her and you—her people.”

  Edna touched the fingers of her other hand to his cheek. “Don’t resist, and it will go easy. The more you fight it, the more discomfort you’ll feel.”

  “As I said, I’m an open book. I welcome your inquiry.”

  “Good, that’s very good.”

  Her pale blue stare didn’t faze him. On the contrary, he felt warmth and comfort as her ghostly fingers gently sifted through his memories, his feelings, going deeper and deeper until they reached the very essence of him. The place where Dalhu the warrior didn’t exist—the small sheltered enclave where Dalhu the boy could still be found, a boy who’d been loved and cherished by his mother.

  Time and space lost meaning as Edna’s tender tendrils weaved through the story of his life, and when she withdrew, he was startled to find himself back in the stone chamber.

  She palmed his feverish cheeks with her chilly hands and kissed his forehead before turning to face the small crowd.

  “The love in this man’s heart burns bright enough to purify his sins, and perhaps even restore his soul to the beautiful sapling it once was—before Navuh’s tutelage shriveled it. He regrets his past deeds and wholeheartedly seeks redemption by paying any price Micah would demand of him. In light of his good intentions, I would have asked for mercy on his behalf, but he would not have welcomed it. Dalhu wishes the price he pays to be worthy of forgiveness and acceptance even by his most vehement detractors’ standards.”

  There were tears in Amanda’s eyes as Edna finished her unequivocal endorsement, and Anandur, who was standing behind the small group, smiled and lifted both hands with his thumbs up.

  Andrew nodded to no one in particular.

  The speech Amanda had helped Dalhu prepare was no longer needed. Edna had done a much better job of pleading his case than he and Amanda could have ever done.

  Kian moved closer to Dalhu and pulled out a scroll made of parchment from inside his robe
, unrolled it, and held it in front of Dalhu as if to show him what was written on it. Not that it did him any good—the writing was in some ancient script that looked like a strange hybrid of hieroglyphs, Hindu, and old Hebrew.

  “Edna composed it in the old language. I’m going to translate,” Kian clarified.

  “On the fifth day in the month of Kislimu, in the year 3942 after the cataclysm, Micah mother of Mark is graciously extending to Dalhu, formerly of the Brotherhood of the Devout Order Of Mortdh, a chance to atone for his part in the crime perpetrated against her beloved son Mark. He is to be flogged by her brother Otto, until she says enough, then put into stasis and entombed for a period of seven days. If at any time during his atonement, Dalhu is unable to endure, and he asks for the punishment to stop or impedes it in any way, it will cease immediately, and the offer of redemption will forever be revoked. However, if he prevails, Micah will deem Dalhu redeemed and would seek no further vengeance against him.”

  Kian produced a pen from a pocket inside his robe and handed it to Dalhu. “By signing this document you accept these terms.”

  Without a shred of hesitation, Dalhu scribbled his name on the line Kian had pointed to.

  Kian took the pen and parchment back, walked over to Micah, and handed her both. “By signing this document you accept these terms,” he repeated.

  As she held the pen, Micah’s hand hovered over the parchment, her tormented expression revealing her inner struggle.

  Please sign, please sign, please sign, Dalhu kept chanting.

  The complete silence in the chamber was suffocating. It seemed as if no one dared to move, and all of them were holding their breath with him. Except, it was only his heart that was racing and only his palms that were sweating worse than if he were facing his own execution—and not the temporary one of entombment.

  After what felt like an eternity, Micah’s brother gave her shoulders an encouraging squeeze, and she released a breath, lowered her hand to the parchment, and signed her name on the dotted line.

  As if someone had pressed play on a paused scene, a communal release of breath and the swishing of robes shattered the silence.