Goddess of Night (Amaranthine Book 9)

by Joleene Naylor

  He evaporated and popped up next to her to rip her second arm free. As he flung the limb away, she screamed and kicked, attacks he easily sidestepped.

  Lilith’s sword lay discarded nearby. Samael swept it up. He surveyed the weapon, then rammed it through her chest. Her back arched. Her mouth opened in a scream that never came. Then she fell still.

  Inanna appeared at Samael’s side, her hand out expectantly. To Katelina’s surprise, he gave her the weapon. He looked from Lilith’s broken body to meet Katelina’s eyes.

  “It is over.”

  Then he disappeared.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Katelina sagged against Jorick. Brandle approached Inanna and Utu. Though she couldn’t hear his words, she saw his respectful head bob.

  Oren slid out from behind a crushed couch to crouch next to them. “Can you walk?”

  Jorick touched his leg, but nodded.

  “Good. I’m going to get Torina. Find Micah and have him procure a vehicle.”

  Get Torina. Oh, God. He still didn’t know. She didn’t want to be the one to tell him, but it would be worse if he found her dead on the floor.

  “Oren?”

  He turned back impatiently. “Yes?”

  She swallowed and looked to Jorick. Though his face betrayed nothing, she knew he could read her mind, knew that he knew. “About Torina.”

  Oren’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What about her?”

  Katelina swallowed hard. “We were attacked. By William and Gret. William wanted to take the kids back to Lilith.”

  When she faltered, Oren stepped toward her, eyes glittering dangerously. “And?”

  “Torina—William broke the lamp and…” Jorick squeezed her hand encouragingly and she spit out, “He stabbed her through the heart.”

  Oren stared, uncomprehending.

  “She’s dead,” Jorick said softly.

  “What?” He looked between them, took a useless step, then retreated again. “What?”

  Katelina cringed. Before she could explain, Oren babbled, “Torina…? My sister…?” His face hardened. “Where is she?”

  “Upstairs,” Jorick said.

  Oren spun on his heel and strode away.

  Katelina tugged at Jorick’s shirt. “Does he understand—”

  “Yes. He understands she’s dead.”

  “But he didn’t say anything. He didn’t shout or cry or…”

  “That will come later.”

  Glass crunched. She spun, half expecting to see Oren was back. Instead, it was Verchiel. His coat was beyond salvaging. His skin, almost as red as his hair, was bubbled with blisters, some that ran blood. He held his phone gingerly out from his sunburned ear.

  When he spoke, his lips cracked, leaving blood on his teeth. “They’re still here—no. Never mind. They just disappeared.”

  Katelina looked to the street. Brandle and Zander headed toward the building, Inanna and Utu were nowhere to be seen.

  Though she couldn’t make out the words, she could hear Ark’s voice answering from the other end of Verchiel’s phone conversation.

  When he stopped, Verchiel said, “Let me get this place evacuated, then you can have them blow it…Right. Only us, as far as I know…All right. Yeah.”

  He hung up and started to shove his phone in his coat pocket, only it was gone. With a sigh he stuffed it in his jeans. “They’re going to blow the block up.”

  “To get rid of the evidence,” Katelina muttered.

  Verchiel nodded. “I guess they’re having a hard time stopping drones and whatnot from flying over, so we need to hurry.”

  “Where are we supposed to go?” Jorick demanded.

  “He said to cut over a block through the alley. It should be sheltered from the worst of the sun. There’ll be a car waiting.”

  Jorick stood. He tested weight on his broken leg, then recoiled. Leaning heavily on a chair, he offered Katelina his good hand. She let him tug her to her feet. Pain shot down her arm and across her midsection.

  “Loren is upstairs with the kids, and Sorino…” She couldn’t bring herself to mention Kai or Torina, but she knew Verchiel would see it in her mind.

  The redhead nodded. “I’ll get them if you want to find Micah? He’s probably hiding from the sun. I’d start in the basement.”

  She looked at Jorick’s one-legged stance. “I can do that, though I want my luggage from upstairs.”

  “I imagine everyone wants their luggage,” Verchiel said. “I’ll see what I can do, but I’m not a pack mule.” He gave her a wink, then turned to Jorick. “Why don’t you take a seat and bask in your victory?”

  Jorick scoffed. “What victory?”

  “You killed Ishkur.” Verchiel gave a smile that looked more painful than cheery. “We’ll meet up here.”

  He hurried away. Katelina moved to kiss Jorick, then hesitated. If his skin hurt half as much as hers…

  He pulled her to him by the front of her shirt, claiming her mouth with his cracked lips. He released her with reluctance. “Go find him. I’ll be here.”

  She nodded and licked her lips. The coppery flavor left her throat screaming for more; for real living blood. If only she could find some.

  She pushed the thought off and headed for the basement. Most of the hotel was in good shape; the battle had only ruined the front façade and destroyed the buildings across the street. Verchiel’d mentioned blowing it up to hide the evidence. That seemed like something the Mexican Executioners would do.

  Except they wouldn’t wait to evacuate everyone.

  The lock was busted on the basement door. Verchiel was right, someone had been through there, and broken doors were Micah’s specialty.

  She leaned inside, intending to shout, but the cool darkness beckoned her with soothing fingers. She shuffled down the stairs. The farther she went, the better she felt, as if some primeval need to be buried in the earth was finally satisfied.

  The rooms were narrow and filled with junk. She moved through them carefully. “Micah! We’re ready to go!”

  She stopped to listen. There was no answer. Maybe he wasn’t there? She reached out and felt someone nearby; a living presence hiding in the shadows.

  He’s probably asleep, she thought and pushed on. She rounded a corner, jumping back as a figure leapt out, swinging.

  “Sarah?” She gaped at the woman who stood, wheezing and furious, holding a length of pipe like a bat. As insane as it was, she’d forgotten about her. “The battle’s over. Lilith is dead and—”

  Sarah swung the pipe. “What does that have to do with us?”

  Katelina hopped away. She knocked into a pile of plastic crates that fell in a rattling avalanche. “It means we’re done. There’s nothing for you to fight for anymore.”

  “Are you serious? This isn’t a movie where the minions lose their will when their master dies. This—” she motioned between them “—has nothing to do with Kali, or Samael, or anyone except you and me.”

  Katelina unconsciously laid a hand to her stomach where Sarah had stabbed her earlier. “What do you want? To kill me?”

  “To kill both of us.”

  Before Katelina could digest the answer, her former friend was on her, swinging and snapping her fangs. Katelina snatched up one of the fallen crates and used it to block the blows. The pipe crunched through the plastic. She flung the broken crate away for a new one.

  The basement was cramped, with a low ceiling, narrow spaces, and nowhere to go. Katelina tossed away the second crate and threw up a third. She needed to do something; either find a weapon of her own or get that pipe away from Sarah.

  “As if you can.” Sarah slammed the pipe through the crate, sending shards of plastic flying. “We’re going to end this, the only way we can.”

  “That’s bullshit, Sarah. There are a million ways this can end. You could put down the pipe and— “

  Sarah swung. Another crate shattered, knocking Katelina back into a clattering row of abandoned drapery rods. “And what
, Kate? Let those Executioner guys arrest me? Don’t worry, I’ve been educated about them, and about your Jorick. You want me to come meekly? Let them rip my throat out or leave me in a dungeon for a hundred years? I don’t think so. I’ve been in a cage, starving, screaming. I’m never going back again!”

  She swung with each word. Katelina scrambled to use the drapery rods as weapons, but they bent under the blows.

  “You don’t have to get arrested. You could come quietly and…and…” And what?

  “And join you and your lover boy?” Sarah bit off bitterly. “No, I don’t think so. I’d rather be dead.”

  Katelina hopped away from another blow to grab a piece of discarded two by four. “Dammit, Sarah! Don’t do this! We can still—”

  The pipe met the wood. Neither gave, sending shocks through both their bodies. Sarah pulled away, shaking out her arms. “We can still what, Kate? Make up? Put things back the way they were? You don’t get it, do you? Things will never be like they were. They can’t be! You can’t see these things, do these things, then go back to grocery shopping and working at the newspaper. That life is over—for both of us. We can’t get it back. I know. I tried. I went home. And what happened?”

  Katelina gritted her teeth. “Fine, it won’t be exactly the same, but you could make a new life.”

  “What in the hell kind of new life can I make?” Sarah unleashed a flurry of attacks. “This is a nightmare, Katelina. A nightmare I can’t stand anymore. It needs to end, for both of us.”

  Katelina backed up until she was pressed against an empty metal rack. She thought of the shelves in Zachariah’s den, of the screaming children, of Torina beating Anya to a pulp.

  That’s what Sarah would do to me if she had the chance.

  And she would. She’d pour all of her bitterness, all of her hate, all of her horror and misery into it, leaving Katelina mutilated, then…

  Then what? Would she do as Jorick said and turn into something like Lilith or Kateesha? Some broken, crippled thing hiding her wounds behind wholesale destruction? Grinding the world under her heel to make up for all the misery she’d suffered, as if everyone was to blame for her misfortune.

  Sarah roared. Katelina dropped, leaving the shelving to take the attack. The rack crumbled as Katelina slipped around Sarah. She slammed the two by four into her back, sending her sprawling on top of the collapsed unit. She raised the wood again, but Sarah rolled away.

  “You might as well give up, Kate. We both know you can’t fight.”

  “Then what was that?” She sneered. “You’re busy telling me how much you’ve changed, but you’re not the only one!”

  “Trust me, I noticed you’d changed the moment I walked into your mom’s house.” Sarah circled her warily, eyes calculating. “Though I wouldn’t have thought it possible, you’ve become more self-absorbed, and willfully ignorant.”

  Katelina pivoted slowly, keeping Sarah in front of her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. ‘Oh, I’m Kate and I’m confused.’ You know what it means; it means you look right at something and still pretend you can’t see it, that you don’t know, don’t understand. Like you really believe you can save everyone. Newsflash: some people aren’t redeemable.”

  “Like who?” She adjusted her grip on the length of wood. She could feel Sarah’s intentions and knew the attack was coming…any second…

  Sarah moved. Katelina swung. She sent her former friend flying backwards into a heap of stacked dinner chairs, wooden legs sticking out at all angles like a forest of posts.

  Katelina readied for another strike. When Sarah didn’t immediately leap up, Katelina slowly crossed the distance, the two by four still raised. As she drew closer, the scent of blood caught in her nose. She frowned, fighting the burning thirst.

  Sarah lay across the stack of chairs. A leg stabbed through her chest, below her heart, another through her stomach. A third went through her thigh, a fourth through her upper arm. A fifth had speared the side of her neck.

  Sarah dropped the pipe to the floor with a clang. She coughed. Blood dribbled down her chin. “Some people like me, Kate. Go ahead. Kill me.”

  Katelina dropped the two by four. “You don’t have to die, Sarah.”

  “God dammit, Kate. Would you stop already? Look at me. Look. At. Me.”

  Katelina took hold of one of the chair legs, ready to bust it off. “You’ll heal with rest.”

  Sarah batted her away with her free arm. “I don’t mean me physically, I mean me. Inside. Kate, I died in that basement, in that cage, and we both know it. What’s left…this…this isn’t me. This is just instincts and anger. Please. Kill me.”

  Katelina grabbed the chair leg again and broke it off with a splintering crack. “You can be fixed. Samael—”

  “Fixed? I’m not a broken doll, Kate. I’m a monster. You know the things I’ve done—you’ve seen them.”

  “He can wipe your memory.” Katelina snapped off another leg. It broke in the wrong place, and she tried again. “He can lock everything away, so you won’t remember.”

  “What will that change? Will that bring everyone back to life? My mother? Your mother? Brad?”

  “Mom and Brad are alive. I turned her.”

  Sarah gave a sad mirthless chuckle. “Won’t that be fun? Your mother and Brad, together for eternity?” She shook her head. “I don’t want to see that, Kate. I don’t want to see any of it. No more blood, no more death, no more broken bodies, no organs scattered on the ground, no handfuls of dead hair. I want it to end.”

  Katelina gripped the leg that stabbed through Sarah’s thigh “You don’t mean that.”

  Sarah leaned up enough to grab Katelina by the front of her shirt. “This is exactly what I meant. You don’t want it to be true, so you pretend it isn’t. You make up excuses, look away, close your eyes and your ears.” Sarah let go to flop back over the chairs. “For the love of God, I’ll do it myself.” She ripped the broken piece of chair leg from Katelina’s hands and placed the splintered end against her chest. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and tensed…

  A moment passed, then she gave a cry of frustration and threw it aside with a dry clatter. She broke into heaving sobs that shook her body, sending blood gurgling up from her wounds. “Goddammit! I can’t do it myself. I can’t…but I can’t live like this. Please Kate, please make it end. I can’t take any more nightmares. When I close my eyes I see them—all of them. Those girls he gave us in the cage, whose bodies rotted for weeks. Kurt, Denise, and the others, starved, biting their own arms, then—then after I killed them. They lay there in the hay, their blood pooling in the dirt and their skin…their insides…the smell. God, I can still smell it. All the time, like it’s stuck in my nose. The hay and the blood and the dirt and the anger. Please make it end.”

  She burst into sobs, breaking only to choke out a mouthful of blood. Katelina met her eyes and stumbled under her misery. Black despair was like tar that pulled her down into herself, leaving only horror and darkness. Alone. So alone. Alone and dirty, covered in blood and the filth of death. Nothing would ever make her clean again, never make her whole, never turn her back into herself. There was no salvation, only years and years of aching, echoing, screaming darkness, a thousand nightmare phantoms with bleeding eyes and gaping chests, gory remnants of everything she’d done. Among the unfamiliar faces was one she knew; her mother. Short, with large eyes and shoulders stooped under years of worry. Her face had aged so many years in such a short time that she almost didn’t recognize her, even as she dropped to her knees, those large eyes full of terror.

  “Sarah! Oh my God, what…Please…Sarah!”

  The vision changed. She didn’t plead, didn’t cry, but lay smeared across the floor, her blood splattered up the wall. Katelina saw her own hands, covered in blood and clotted gore, bits of flesh and muscle, and hair. Long dark hair stuck in the goo. Always the hair. So much hair…

  A scream tore through h
er, followed by a sucking agony that brought her to her knees. The pain was so intense it drove her back to the basement, and to herself. Katelina sagged back on her haunches, panting. The echoes of agony reverberated inside her. She looked up to Sarah, to the tears running down her face, the blood running down her leg in a rivulet.

  “It’s always like that,” Sarah whispered desperately. “Always. Please, Kate. Please, make it stop.”

  Katelina stood and blinked away tears. Jorick’s words came back to her:

  “I know that you love her, but a part of love is knowing when to let go.”

  She grabbed one of the broken chair legs and held it like a dagger. “Sarah…”

  Her friend closed her eyes and tensed, waiting.

  Katelina struggled against a sob. Tears made her vision blurry, but that was better. It made it easier, less real. Less horrible. Even as she set the jagged end over Sarah’s heart.

  Katelina raised the broken wood. She tried to think of a scenario, something to pretend, some way to distance herself from it all. Her mind was blank, except for the shreds of that screaming misery, the memory of nightmare visions, of guilt so thick she couldn’t breathe, and that horrible sucking blackness.

  “I’m sorry, Kate,” Sarah whispered. “For everything.”

  Katelina took a deep breath. “So am I.”

  Then she struck.

  The makeshift stake went through with a crunch that made Sarah bend double. Katelina ripped it out again. Blood gushed. Sarah dropped back over the chairs, her body limp and her face smooth. Peaceful.

  Katelina brushed Sarah’s hair back from her dirty, tear stained face. Something silver glinted above her collar. Katelina tugged what turned into a chain. Dangling at the end of it was a tiny blue charm and half of a shattered heart, worn almost smooth with time; the other half of a best friend’s necklace.

  You’re never too old for your best friend.

  Katelina pulled the chain hard enough to snap it, then backed away. She looked from the necklace clenched in one hand, to the bloody chair leg in the other. With a cry she threw the makeshift weapon away and stumbled back, until she tripped over what was left of the metal rack. She sprawled on the floor, eyes locked on Sarah’s dead body. The sobs came. She didn’t try to fight them, only drew herself into a shaking ball.