by Eve Langlais
Several times a day, Desmond found himself staring out a window at him. Hating him. Hating himself. Because once again, poison swept through his mind.
I don’t know if I can forget.
Chapter Five
Forget going to bed. Logan may or may not have been loitering near the front hall of the vampire’s mansion, waiting for a certain woman.
Pathetic really, considering he was a grown man, but he could at least say he didn’t wag his tail when she walked through the door. Inwardly, he might have cheered a little because, despite her having been saved by that damnable Desmond at the downtown hotel, she appeared none too pleased.
“Interesting meeting,” was his tame remark to the scowl on her face.
“Don’t you start. That is not at all what I expected to happen.”
“And what did you expect?” Titus remarked, stepping out of nowhere. And they said cats should wear bells. They’d obviously never met a sneaky vampire.
“I don’t know.” A heavy sigh escaped her. “Something. Anything. What a complete waste of time.”
“Was it?” Logan interjected.
“The dragon lady wouldn’t tell me anything. So, yes, I’d say it was a waste.”
“Funny, because from my perspective, I thought we learned something important,” Logan commented.
“Like?” She crossed her arms and waited for his reply.
“The fact they’ll do anything to stop you from finding out who you are.”
She rolled her eyes. “Which is stupid. My memories are starting to come back. Short of killing me, I will remember eventually.”
“And I’m going to wager that whoever did this to you in the first place is now panicking about it. The attack last night was more extreme than anything we’ve seen thus far.” Titus and his logic.
“Do you mean magical golems appearing from an unnatural fog aren’t common?” Her sarcasm hit just the right note. “I imagine the attacks will only get stronger.”
“Because we keep winning. Our luck will eventually run out.” Titus, the daddy-voice of reason.
Logan gave a jerk of his head. “Leech over there has a point. Things will get worse before they get better. Which means we should attack first and cut the head off the snake. Or demon. Or whatever the fuck is behind this shit.”
“It pains me to admit, but the dog is right,” Titus added.
Logan crowed. “You heard it. He said I was right. Someone take a picture to remember the moment!” An exultation that earned him a glare.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Titus said, expression and tone salty.
“Good plan. Wouldn’t want it getting any bigger.” Logan gave a shake of his hips. Yeah, it was a crude riposte, but he enjoyed seeing Titus scowl and Adara hide a smile. Much better than the dejected expression when she walked through the door.
“If we might converse on a more adult level.” Titus’s pointed look was aimed at Logan. “The attack at the hotel almost certainly indicates that there is concern you’ll discover who you are.”
“Too late. I already know that. I’m Erela from Babylon.”
“Which is where?”
“With the territory called Babylonia, which according to your histories no longer exists.”
“Last name?” Logan asked.
She pursed her lips. “None. I don’t know if we had any, actually. I only remember people by their first names and titles.”
“Who are your parents?” Titus asked.
“No idea.” She shrugged. “The king took me in as his ward.”
“He’s not your daddy?” Logan asked.
“No. I don’t know who my parents are.”
Titus stepped closer. “Who is your enemy?”
“The tribunal.”
“Because they cast you out. But they were just following the law.” Titus played devil’s advocate.
“It’s a stupid law. We were doing no harm.” Her cheeks flushed pink, and Logan felt a stirring of jealousy as she obviously remembered something intimate from her past. Something with that blasted dude, Desmond.
“Why did Mammon come after you?” Titus didn’t relent.
“Because he hates Desmond.”
“So, Desmond must have known.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?” Titus circled around her as he spoke. “Think about it. What would be the point of Mammon taking you to hurt his brother if he never told him?”
“Mammon lied.”
Logan’s brow creased. “You think that demon dude lied about why he kidnapped you?”
She nodded. “Mammon wasn’t allowed to let me die. Someone else was giving him orders.”
“Someone else wanted you tortured?” Titus frowned. “Why would someone want to punish you?”
She shrugged. “I guess because I was involved with an Ifrit.”
A scoffing sound emerged from Titus. “Please. One does not go through this much trouble over a forbidden tryst.”
“The laws state—”
“I care not about the laws. I’ve read up on your laws.”
Logan turned a sharp look on Titus. “How the fuck did you do that?”
“You asked Desmond for aid,” Adara accused.
“Actually, I let the groveling Stefan bring me some books from Ha’el. We’re having a harder time acquiring any from Babylonia.”
“Doesn’t matter which copy you read. The tribunal laws won’t change.” Adara paced in the hall, her brow knit in thought. “Can I read them?”
“Of course. I’ll have them sent to your room. But I can summarize the contents, at least concerning you. You were banished in the most severe form possible. You were left with not a single memory, which is in and of itself unusual. No one was initially told of your banishment either, at least according to Stefan and Desmond.”
“There should have been a proclamation,” Adara said slowly.
“Exactly, and you should have remembered enough to know you were Forsaken.”
“But instead, they made me forget everything.”
Logan nodded. “Which begs the question, why the difference? Why not kill you instead?”
“That’s easy. Someone wants something from Adara.” Titus made it sound matter-of-fact.
Her brow knit. “If that’s true, then everything that happened to me had nothing to do with Desmond.”
“This was always about you,” Logan stated. “About what you are, I’ll bet. The dragon lady and her lackey both said you had magic leaking. Tons of it.”
“I, too, am starting to see the edges of it in her aura,” Titus offered. “Something about you has changed, dearest.”
“Probably because the spell hiding me is unravelling.”
“This is more than just a spell we’re seeing. The magic is a part of you.” Titus sounded almost apologetic.
“None of my memories have shown me with any.” She continued to stubbornly argue, which Logan didn’t understand. Why would she fight having magic? He would embrace it if it happened to him. He’d become the first werewolf warlock. It would make an epic action figure.
“You haven’t remembered thus far,” Titus patiently pointed out. “Could be those memories are buried a little deeper.”
Adara held out her hands. “I don’t see any glowing, and I think I’d know if I was a witch.”
“I thought witches flew on brooms. And I draw the line at us getting a cat,” Logan offered to lighten the mood.
“Adara isn’t a witch. More like a sorceress.”
“You think I can just wave my hand around and make things happen?” She twirled her hand, and Logan actually tensed in preparation of flying magic.
“I’m pretty sure you have to focus more than that,” was Titus’s dry reply.
“This argument is stupid. I don’t have magic.”
“The only one being stupid is you for being stubborn,” Titus snapped. “It’s happening. I don’t know how or why. Perhaps it was suppressed and only now is beginning to em
erge.”
Logan jumped in to help. “It’s not that farfetched. Aren’t the Babylonians magic users?”
“Yes—”
“And aren’t you half Babylonian?” Titus interrupted.
“Yes,” Adara said through gritted teeth. “But I was tested as a child and then as a teen. Told I had none.”
“Or, someone lied.” Titus shrugged. “Let me ask you, when Babylonians wield magic, do they use words, gestures, or arcane rituals?”
More frowning ensued as she said slowly, “A bit of everything. Simple things were done with a thought or wave of a hand. But bigger stuff, like the wards on the walls guarding the city against the borderlands, took preparation. Sigils engraved and then sprinkled with a potion, chanting and the holding of hands.” Her eyes lost focus as she kept talking. “With a circle of five, they could create a portal to other cities if they had a clear image of where they were going. They even had mages trained to do battle.”
“So, everyone wielded magic?” Titus prodded softly, a master at extracting information.
She shook her head. “No. The common folk had only the barest amount. The king and his advisers were the most capable magic users. And even then, it wasn’t something they could use in endless supply.”
“Gotta recharge their batteries,” Logan supplied.
“A simple way of putting it,” said Titus dryly. “Let me ask you, since you obviously remember them doing magic, do you recall if they could conjure golems?”
Logan saw the shock of the question widen her eyes.
It also jarred him. “You think Adara’s own people attacked her?”
“By her own words, she said they did not truly consider her one of them.”
“But the king raised her,” Logan argued for her.
“And?” Titus arched a brow. “History has shown that there is resentment for those who are different. Is it so farfetched to think there are some who might have disliked the king’s attachment to a half-breed?” Titus turned an apologetic look on her. “And I don’t mean to insult you, merely state the facts.”
“Don’t apologize. You’re right. Not everyone liked me. People would make snide remarks, usually when they thought I was out of hearing range. When I was younger, I was often blamed for the missteps of others. I had to work twice as hard as everyone else to prove myself.”
“So, it is entirely possible someone you knew, or who knew of you, was behind your being forsaken. Who even now is still working to keep you banished.”
“Why go through so much trouble, though?” Logan asked. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to kill her?”
“It would be simple,” she mused aloud. “Which means they had some other purpose for me.”
“Had?” Logan queried.
“Had,” Titus said firmly. “The golems tried to kill her.”
“Did they? They almost killed the dragon. But Adara escaped unharmed.”
Adara jumped in. “Only because Titus arrived in time.”
Replaying the battle in his mind, Logan shook his head. “Had the golems wished you dead, mouse, they would have ignored the dragon and swarmed us. But they didn’t. They scared us and gave warning to the dragon.”
“They beat her,” Adara exclaimed.
Titus nodded. “They did, but they didn’t kill her when she was down. They accomplished their goal. Nakamura won’t help Adara in the future. And I will wager she tells her brethren not to aid her, as well.”
“So how am I supposed to get answers?” Adara growled.
Logan was the one who provided the answer. “You need to go back to Babylonia.”
“Sure, let me hop on a plane.” The sarcasm dripped from her statement.
“There must be a way to move back and forth. Where else would those demons have come from?” Logan insisted. Not to mention Desmond, who could pop in and out at will.
“Even if there is, I am not crawling into a literal Hellhole,” she said. “There must be a passage to Babylonia. After all, there are mentions of it on Earth. History indicates that, at one time, they were aware of each other.”
“We don’t have time to go scouring, not when we know an Ifrit who can lead us.”
At Titus’s suggestion, she stiffened. “I am not asking Desmond for help.”
“But he might be the only—”
She sliced a hand through the air. “No. We’ll find another way.”
Adara stalked off, no longer the fragile and broken woman they’d found. Odd how Logan had fallen for the damsel in distress but lusted something fierce for the warrior she’d become. Problem was, the stronger she became, the less she turned to him.
“She is being stubborn,” Titus grumbled. “Desmond has offered to help.”
“You heard her. Ain’t happening because she’s still licking her wounds and blaming him.”
“Surely, she can see they were both betrayed.”
“She doesn’t want to see because then she’d have to forgive him. And if that happened…” Logan let the thought trail off, but he knew Titus grasped the implication.
If Adara forgave Desmond and decided she still loved him, where would that leave Logan and Titus?
Chapter Six
For the next few days, Adara refused to talk to anyone. She sparred alone. Kept to her room.
Sulked like the most spoiled of children, and yet couldn’t stop herself. Worse, those bastards gave her space. Neither Logan nor Titus came near her.
They respected her wishes.
Desmond wouldn’t have. He would have demanded she snap out of it. Told her to hit him. Do anything but ignore him.
And then they would have made love.
Funny how every memory she had of him, even the fights—because they were both too stubborn to always agree—ended in sex. Hot. Sweaty. Skin-to-skin encounters that left her craving more.
Even now.
For a woman who thought she’d never indulge in carnal acts again, her body was starting to tell her otherwise.
How could it be awakening after what had been done to her? She had only to close her eyes to remember the pain and humiliation.
Yet did she really want to close herself off from intimacy forever? How long before she stopped letting the memories control her and moved forward?
Have I grieved my loss of innocence and dignity long enough?
Stalking through the house did nothing to relieve the tension in her body—or solve the whirling chaos of her mind.
More and more, it became clear that someone was watching her every move. Someone tattled on her.
Was it Stefan? That two-timing servant to both Titus and Desmond.
A servant in the house? A spy outside? Paranoia?
All valid questions, but she was using them to block the real reason for her agitation.
She still fumed that Logan and Titus had suggested she ask Desmond for help. Bad enough that he came to her rescue. Annoying that he infected her thoughts. She wouldn’t go groveling to him for aid.
I won’t be weak. And this time, she could admit that pride stopped her. Especially because there was a time when she and Desmond were equals.
Her mind played a memory back to her. The one she’d refused to remember earlier.
The day of the hunt.
Beyond the city, south of the borderlands, an ancient forest spread for thousands of leagues. Some claimed it was older than Babylonia itself. It certainly appeared that way given the height and girth of some trees.
A road sliced through it, wide enough for a carriage, the stone cobbles keeping it from becoming overgrown. The woods were a wild place, full of predators and hungry things that made it a grand place to hunt.
Per the king’s orders, she and the Ifrit set out as a party that included the king and a few guards.
There was much bantering as they galloped out of the castle, their steeds eager to stretch their legs.
While she and the other members of the king’s court rode stallions ranging from pure white to dappled gray, the D
ark Lord rode a beautiful mare, the hair a sleek black, the tail and mane shimmering with red hints. When it galloped, sparks rose from its hooves, and the horse left singe marks on the ground. A famed night-mare, born and raised in Ha’el, and owned exclusively by the ruling class.
Erela’s king eyed it more than once. He used to own one. And regretted getting rid of it.
A camp was made just outside the forest. The horses were cared for and tethered. The uneven ground and tight confines inside the woods made it too dangerous for them.
There was much good-natured ribbing as happened with groups of people determined to outdo each other. The king proved loudest of all, his boasts actually more truth than tall tale. Through it all, the Ifrit remained more or less silent until directly addressed.
“What’s your biggest catch?” her king inquired.
Desmond shrugged, his big shoulders stretching the dark linen of his jacket. “Dragon. We had a drake try and settle on a mountain a few years back.”
“A dragon.” The king chuckled. “It must have been a baby if you took it on alone.”
“Adult. And I subdued it with my bare hands.”
“Now I know you’re pulling my leg.” The king jested, but his eyes held cold appraisal.
“I don’t jest.” Said most seriously, and Erela believed him.
The king, however, seemed determined to prove a point. “What do you say we wager?”
“On?” Desmond asked.
“Who brings in the biggest catch.”
“What’s the prize if I win?”
“You win? Cocky fellow.” The king gave a hollow chuckle. “I like your confidence. Tell you what. If you win, I will give you a tour of my vaunted weapons collection and let you keep one item of choice.”
“A fine prize,” Desmond stated.
“And if I win, I want your horse.” The king couldn’t help but glance at the mare again. “Agreed?” The king held out his hand.
“Agreed.”
“We’ll meet back at camp by the end of the day. Erela, why don’t you help our guest. Warn him to watch out for Moccus.”
“Who is Moccus?” Desmond asked.