Apep could tell Chatha was itching for the release he got through his experimentations on his victims. It really fascinated Apep, to find another being of such like-mindedness. He had never thought to find such harmony with someone.
“We will get Kamen back. He is, after all, my summoner. If not for him I would not be here among the living.” Apep moved to look out a window. They were living in some kind of commune, these Templars, milling about and craving direction from their mistress, who Apep now inhabited. They were deliciously subservient to him, respectful really. They had been well trained. But Apep wanted more than absolute mindless respect. He wanted devotion. He wanted them to love him. And more important, he wanted them to fear him with every fiber of their souls.
“We must call in my followers. Tell them the news.” Apep rang a nearby bell and an acolyte hurried in.
“Yes, Mistress?” he said, bowing very low because the last time he had bowed to his ruler it had not been low enough and now he was healing from a broken nose. His might be a hardy breed and very quick healers, but not so quickly as all that and the pain lasted for a good long time as well.
“Gather all of these…creatures,” Apep said, making an encompassing hand gesture. “I have glorious news to share.”
“Yes, Mistress, at once.” The acolyte scurried off.
Apep had to wait an interminable amount of time before the acolyte returned to inform him of his gathered disciples. A whole ten minutes! He was lucky, really, that Apep was in a good mood.
“I am now in a delicate condition,” Apep announced from his position on a balcony above them. He rubbed his belly, though it was completely flat with no outward signs of any pregnancy as yet. But there would be soon enough, and he was most pleased by the night’s efforts and rewards. He had used his godly powers to see to it. Had inbued the rapidly separating cells with part of his godly energy. “I will need volunteers to help me decorate my son’s nursery. Preferably a carpenter or interior designer.”
When they all stood awkwardly for a full thirty seconds, Apep felt a thread of anger weave through him. He knew he should not waste energy on such annoyances, but just the same they should be leaping for the opportunity. Clearly they did not love him as much as they should.
Perhaps this was an opportunity to make them love him. They were not yet cognizant of his magnificence. They still thought he was their puny little mistress, for all he had altered her appearance. For the better, he might add. Certainly this strong, enlarged Amazonian figure was superior to that soft puniness that she had once displayed. Why could they not see that?
“Those who volunteer will be greatly rewarded.” Then, to prove his statement, he conjured a chest of gold. It was piled so high that coins were sliding off and hitting the ground with little clinks. “Or perhaps a greatest fantasy?” He chose a male in the front of the crowd and with a snap of his fingers created two buxom blondes who immediately started to fondle him and rub up against him. “Whatever your heart desires, I can fulfill.” He turned to them with a beatific smile. He was ready for the wave of adulation.
“Mistress,” a small male voice spoke up, “if you please, won’t this affect our ability to fight the Politic?”
“Oh. Them. Believe me, I am as strong as ever, and I can prove that whenever you like.”
He reached out toward the one that had dared question his master plan, fisting his hand in the air until the dissenter was yanked off his feet and left dangling there, obviously being choked to death by an unseen force. But before he lost consciousness, Apep reached his other hand out then yanked his hands apart, as if tearing something.
A great tortuous force ripped the man in two, dousing the gathering in an explosion of blood.
And then came the screams.
Oh yes, Apep thought. This was much better. He would have his volunteers…and he would have their love…and more important, he would have their fear.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Leo was feeling a bit weary. It wasn’t a physical weariness. He had endured a great deal more physically challenging things than what he was dealing with at the moment, so a little loss of sleep was hardly the issue. No, it was strictly a mental weariness. They had been through a lot, and knowing that they would be going through even more still had him tense and ready, but tired and aching at the same time. He was not fully healed as yet and probably shouldn’t be taking this on. Especially not as half-cocked as it was. It was better to have a full knowledge of your enemies capabilities and the time to draw up a plan that took in all variables and possible difficulties.
But he didn’t have the luxury of any of that. And to be honest, behind that weary feeling was a tide of excitement, an eagerness to take control of this and have a strong hand in solving this problem with the speed and succinctness he was known for. And beyond that was a powerful surge of loyalty for a brother who possessed all of the strongest connections to Leo’s emotions. He had been through so much already that he didn’t think he could take losing Jackson as well.
Leo racked back the slide to the Glock nine he’d been given, checking the chamber, making sure it was clean. Then he released the slide, letting it close. He grabbed for the clip to his weapon and shot it into the butt of the pistol with a push. He chambered a round and, for now, put the safety on.
He might not trust the Djynn, but Grey certainly knew his weapons. He’d conjured a veritable arsenal for Leo, including a flack vest and a plethora of weapon holsters to chose from. And as he loaded the pockets of his vest with spare bullets and small ordnance, he realized the Djynn had also provided him with something else. A reason to trust. To trust Jackson, and to trust Faith. Something he was desperately in need of. He had to admit that he was beginning to feel more secure in that knowledge with every passing second, or he wouldn’t be risking his neck like this, wouldn’t feel so compelled to do this. Overall, it was a very different feeling than he had first started out with.
He stole a glance over at Faith. She was pacing the library in a short, agitated circuit, her arms folded tightly beneath her breasts, her upset more than obvious. He realized that she was in part responsible for his changing perspective toward Nightwalkers. Well, some of them anyway. He had asked himself several times now why she was doing this. It was clear she was putting herself in the line of fire, setting herself up for being victim to things far more powerful than she was, yet here she was just the same. She had no stake, that he knew of, in any of this. So either he hadn’t uncovered her true purpose, or she was just doing this selflessly for the greater good.
“So now we wait for daylight,” he said, looking down at the equipment laid out before him and ready to go. After another quick mental inventory, he came around the table and moved toward her. He reached out to catch her arm, stopping her short march and making her look at him. Her luminescent eyes fixed on his and he could see the desperation of her worry written in them.
“This is insane,” she breathed. She caught her breath and he realized, with no little surprise, that she was on the verge of tears.
“Hey,” he said softly, pulling her close and touching her distraught face near her right cheek. “I’m going to be fine.” He frowned then. “You’re the one who shouldn’t be going.”
“If you think I’m going to let you—”
He cut her off with the gentle touch of his fingers against her lips. It made him realize just how full and lush her lips were. She had a beautiful mouth which, if not for the stunning presence of her eyes, might well have been the most arresting feature on her face. At first he had thought her universally black from head to toe, but now he realized that wasn’t the case. Her general skin tone was an even, unblemished ebony, but her lips were actually a deep, dark purple…so dark it could fool you into thinking they were also black.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked her abruptly. “What’s in it for you?”
She looked absolutely startled. Then she looked at him as if his hair had suddenly caught fire.
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��You really don’t get it, do you?” She laughed, a hard, scoffing sound. “This isn’t about me. It’s not about you. As corny as it might sound, it’s about the fate of the world. And maybe that doesn’t mean so much to you, but it means a hell of a lot to the rest of us.” She said the “us” with a very sharp emphasis, reminding him how very often he had labeled her with “you people” or whatever he could conjure up to devalue her species and all of the Nightwalker breeds.
The truth was, he didn’t know very much at all about Night Angels. That information had not been included in Grey’s little fantasy scenario. But other things had. Things like her capacity to love. Things like how passionate she could be. And just thinking about it drew his attention to the way she smelled, that divine scent of soft, sweet woman and the spices of Christmas; and the warmth of her, standing so close to him they were almost touching bodies. Actually, with every agitated inhale of her breath, her breasts did touch him. It was oh so slight, barely able to be felt, but he felt it just the same. He realized then that she was hotter to the touch than a human woman would be…or so it seemed. He knew he couldn’t chalk it up to her upset emotions, because thanks to Grey he knew that she naturally ran this hot. He knew that sleeping next to her was like cuddling up to a delightful little furnace.
He tried to shake the image away, needing to stay focused on their conversation.
“I still can’t fathom you,” he said softly, his eyes searching her face slowly. “You appear out of nowhere and jump into this…this quest with both feet and with no regard for your own well being. Why would you do that?” Before she could speak he added, “I mean besides the saving the world part. Why would you do that. Why have you volunteered for this and no one else?”
“Because with position comes responsibility,” she said, her tone softening, “With strength and power comes the obligation to protect those without. Human mortals like you have no idea of the dangers and the battles being fought just beyond their periphery. It needs to stay that way in order to protect them.”
“And not to protect yourselves?”
“I won’t lie to you. There is a heavy element of that as well,” she conceded. “Can you imagine what people would do if they saw someone like me? If they could see my wings and see my ability? But regardless of that, think about an all-out war…a universe rending battle with a deviant god. Who do you think will get caught in the crossfire?”
“Why not let them know? Why not give them the opportunity to protect themselves?” His tone turned more than a little bitter. “I was kept ignorant ‘for my own good’ and was nearly killed for my obliviousness of the danger I was in. Had I known—”
“You would have what?” she demanded of him. “What do you think you could have done against a Bodywalker? Cut their throat? Shoot them?” Again, she scoffed, and he knew she was right. There was nothing he could have done to keep himself safe from the likes of Chatha and Kamenwati. Kamen had been determined to extract his revenge from Leo, and he would have stopped at nothing to get it. He would have hunted Leo down, sending his dogs after him from all quarters. He might have been able to dodge it for a little while; he was good at making himself disappear, but he would have eventually been caught and made to pay for what Kamen had perceived as a slight to himself and his precious mistress.
And even if he had been successful in hiding he would have paid for it in other ways. He would have lost his connection to Jackson and Docia, the only family outside of his mother that he had ever cared for.
He would have died a little if he’d had to turn his back on the Waverlys. And he would have suffered as a person. Jackson had always been his moral compass. Always a fervent boy scout, Jackson’s drive to do the right thing and to demand Leo do the same kept Leo honest and reminded him not to let the dark underworlds he traveled in drag him down with them.
And maybe that was why he was so terrified of what Jackson had metamorphosed into. Maybe he was afraid of navigating the world without his true north.
“You’re right,” he conceded. It was a concept he understood all too well, actually. And then there was another aspect. By keeping all of this hidden, they were protecting the minds and spirits of the mortals around them. Right now they lived in the bliss of ignorance. It would be nothing but terror and stress for them if they were to learn of the darkness slithering around so close to their exposed jugulars. “Though there are some, like me, who could perform well under the pressure of knowing the truth and protect themselves in spite of the extreme difference in capability, most cannot. I am by far an exception.”
“But even then…you weren’t,” she reminded him as gently as possible. And she was right. As cold and hard a truth as it was, she was right. All the skill and strength in the world could not have protected him in the face of beings as powerful as Kamenwati and Chatha.
“I know,” he said softly, searching her eyes for something, anything to secure him as he faced that terrible fact. He saw sympathy swim across her features, the look so soft and gentle, so understanding, it tightened his chest and throat with emotion. He knew she understood what it meant to be weaker than an opponent. He didn’t need to wonder why. The creatures they were about to go up against explained it easily. One touch and she would be dead.
“I don’t want you to come,” he said, his breath coming hard and fast the more he thought about her vulnerability.
“I have to. You need me.”
His fingers reached to touch her forehead, drawing a gentle line from one side to the other, and then falling back onto her cheek. God, the urge to kiss her came out of nowhere. But when it came, it came with raging force. However, before he could accept or reject the command, she surged up onto the tips of her toes, pressing her mouth up against his and reached to plow her fingers through his hair. His breath caught in his throat and he expected revulsion to streak into him, but he had forgotten what the Djynn had shown him. He had forgotten they already knew each other as passionate lovers.
Whether it was true or not, it simply was. He caught her head between his hands and pulled her up into the kiss even more tightly, letting the lushness of her mouth pervade his senses. He did not introduce his tongue to her, did not seek the same. He wanted to know her, without deception or fabrication, for who she really was and how she really felt.
And he had never known such an electric sensation in all of his life. Having kissed a great many women, of all shapes, sizes, personality, and creed, none had evoked that startling sensation. It made him draw back in surprise, made him leave her if for no other reason than to see if the sensation continued on separate and apart from her. To prove to himself its origin.
“What the hell?” he breathed across her mouth.
She smiled. “I guess Grey left that part out,” she mused.
“Fuck right he did.”
“It’s just…my chemistry. Night Angel chemistry. I’m told that the sensation for a human is similar to licking—”
“A nine-volt battery,” he finished for her, “only a hell of a lot more powerful.”
“In a bad way?” she asked, a frisson of anxiety stealing over her features.
“No. No, not in a bad way,” he said before pulling her back to his mouth and letting that sensation wash over him anew. Good god, what a feeling it was! And it didn’t stop at the physical connection of their mouths. It streaked electric awareness through his entire nervous system. It was amazing how quickly addicting it was. How he wanted more and more of it with every passing instant. To that end he dragged her up close and tight, fitting her lean strength to his, reveling in how she was soft and potent all at once. Her fingers bled out of his hair, trailing down the side of his neck, and he started a little when it felt like a static charge had leapt from her skin to his.
“Jesus,” he breathed against her lips. And then he wanted more again. More then just this surface connection. He began an onslaught, opening his mouth over hers, coaxing more of the same from her. He heard her make a small sound of pleasure and
it went through him like that static charge. That was the instant he knew he had to have her and he would take her with all due haste. What lengths that desire reached to, he didn’t know right then. All he knew was that he craved every aspect of her that she was willing to give. And she seemed very willing as she opened her mouth for him, inviting the invasion of his tongue and meeting it with an invasion of her own. If he had thought her kisses to be electric before, they now seemed chaste in comparison to the whipcord heat and desire racing through him.
Now they were ribcage to ribcage, her breasts pressed against him, her belly flush to his. And still he pulled her in tighter. He didn’t understand why it didn’t feel like enough, why it felt as though he were starving for the feel of her still. Maybe because the taste of her was so incredible. Maybe because though she felt like it, she certainly didn’t taste like licking the top of a battery. No, that was a tart, acrid thing, and she was everything sweet and delicious. He had never been one for fine dining, but he could recognize it when he tasted it.
Somehow his hands had found position on her body, one on her upper back and the other sliding down over her backside. He’d always been partial to a girl with a nice ass, and maybe that was why he was more than a little turned on by hers. He used his grip to connect their lower bodies along with their upper and that was when he realized just how hard he was. It should be funny, the idea that he would be unaware of something like that, but it was just another shock to him, just like the way she kissed him shocked him.
Then he found himself remembering things. Remembering the way she had felt beneath him, the way she had felt around him…and just by remembering that hard state became even more so. A thousand thoughts and impulses seemed to race through his mind all at once, but what it all boiled down to was him wanting her, and her acting very much like she wanted him in return. She was like holding on to a live wire, dancing and wriggling in his grip, her body curving up against him, rubbing up against him. She moaned, and he felt it right to the bottom of his being.
Forsaken: The World of Nightwalkers Page 20