Goddess of Night (Amaranthine Book 9)

by Joleene Naylor

  “It’s not our idea,” Ark assured him. “Eileifr wants to meet with all of us.”

  The redhead hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “That’s why you brought the full complement, isn’t it? To make sure I come along.”

  “It’s ridiculous that we need to,” Ark snapped. “You’re an Executioner by choice—it’s your job. We shouldn’t have to force you into doing it.”

  “Perhaps you should petition for a vacation?” Jamie suggested. “It’s been twenty years since you officially took one.”

  “Officially being the keyword,” Ark bit back. “He’s taken plenty, and it’s gotten worse since Jorick resurfaced.”

  “That’s something you won’t need to worry about,” Jorick interjected. “Katelina and I are going home. No one will see us for at least fifty years.”

  “I doubt that,” Verchiel said mischievously. “But a vacation does sound good. Maybe I’ll visit you guys?”

  Jorick and Katelina’s answer came in unison, “No!”

  The guards insisted on statements from everyone, even Angelica. The vampiress looked uncomfortable, but Jamie promised her that as long as she hadn’t personally done anything illegal, Lilith’s actions wouldn’t be held against her. When they were finished, Verchiel left with the Executioners. “I’ll see you later,” he trilled as they stuffed him into a vehicle. “Don’t forget to invite me to the wedding.”

  As the SUVs rolled away in a cloud of dust, Micah crossed his arms. “There aren’t any trees.”

  He was right, though Katelina wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything.

  Oren took a deep breath, then looked from Micah to the abandoned trailer and back. The bald vampire nodded, and the pair moved off.

  “What’s that about?”

  Jorick cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Torina’s funeral pyre.”

  “Oh.”

  The vampires disappeared inside the trailer. A moment later one of the windows shattered. A broken chair landed in the yard, followed by a second, then a piece of planking. Katelina drifted closer as sounds of destruction filtered out. She saw Micah through one of the windows. He ripped faded paneling from the walls, tearing through insulation to the frame.

  “They’d be better to start with the top and work down,” she commented.

  “Probably,” Jorick agreed. “But they’re not thinking straight.”

  She shifted enough to see Oren. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, as he attacked the kitchen cupboards. Micah’s face was scrunched with the effort and fury, but Oren’s stayed hard, carved from unyielding granite. He flung aside the cupboard doors, then yanked the whole cabinet off the wall.

  Katelina flinched as he threw it aside and moved to the next. “I didn’t realize he was that strong.”

  “Of course he is. He’s a vampire.”

  “Yes, but…” But he was more suited to having others tear out cabinets while he planned how to do it. Or at least that was how she’d always thought of him.

  Jorick made a strange noise in his throat. “I suppose I could help.”

  She started to ask why, then stopped. Of course. Jorick had known Torina for nearly two-hundred years, had carried on an affair of convenience with her at one point. Though he never loved her, he was bound to have some sort of attachment.

  “All right. If there’s enough wood left you might save some for Sarah.”

  She unconsciously slipped her hand in her pocket to touch the necklace and its charms.

  Jorick left to join them, and she turned back for the bunker. She knew Micah would make remarks about a funeral for Sarah—hell, they’d all say something—but she’d just have to deal with it.

  And so will they.

  She was inside showing Loren the right way to change Jayleth’s diaper when Jorick came for them. “I spoke to Oren and we agreed to burn them together.”

  Katelina slapped the sticky tab down, then turned to stare at him. “You mean Torina and Sarah? He agreed to that?” Jorick nodded and she faltered. “I thought they’d object to doing it at all. I mean, she was with Lilith.”

  “So was Angelica, but no one demanded her blood.”

  “Yes, but she repented in the end.”

  Jorick sighed. “Sarah was your friend. Whatever else she was, they understand that. Besides, Brandle asked that we burn William.”

  “A triple funeral?” Loren asked.

  Jorick nodded.

  “What do we do with them?” Loren motioned to the kids. “We can’t leave them alone, but we probably shouldn’t have them next to a giant bonfire.”

  Micah waded through the doorway and scooped Paylin up. “Why not? Torina was their adopted mom. Okay, it was only for a fucking day, but without her they wouldn’t be here.”

  “They’re babies! No way are they gonna stay quiet,” Loren argued.

  “Then Jorick can make ‘em be quiet. Come on.”

  Loren rolled his eyes, but hefted Jayleth with his good arm and followed.

  Made from cabinets, wall paneling, and studs, the pyre was lumpy and misshapen. The three bodies were already on it, wrapped in the motel blankets. Under the smell of gasoline, Katelina caught the soft odor of decay. She wondered if they knew which was which, and if it even mattered.

  They’d made torches from two by fours. Brandle held one, and Oren another. To Katelina’s surprise, Micah stuffed the third one in her hand. “She was your friend.”

  Angelica lit the torches. The flames snapped against the dark sky. Something about the contrast made the moment feel real, primeval, ageless, eternal. Something that had always been and always would be.

  Surprisingly, Zander stepped up. “God, Goddess, Divine force of the Universe, unseen but felt. Regardless of your name, you remain unchanged, a guide in the darkness, a path of light illuminating us to our final transformation. We invoke thee, asking you to take the souls of our brother and sisters in darkness; Torina, William, and Sarah.”

  As Brandle lit one of the bodies, Katelina wondered if the nonspecific prayer meant Zander had made peace with the Night Goddess. The question drained away when Oren took his turn, leaving a blanket wrapped bundle for her. She stepped close and touched the torch to the body. The fire hit the gasoline. She stepped back as it flared.

  Zander began again, “We deliver these remains to the flame, that they may devour the shells of clay, and release our brother and sisters to their ultimate divinity.”

  Brandle poked the torch in a few other places. When the fire was high he tossed his torch in. Katelina and Oren did the same.

  Brandle made a sign with his hand and said something in a foreign language. Though she didn’t know the words she felt the intent. It was a prayer.

  She tried to think of something to say. She’d been to church, but none of the prayers stuck. She thought of grave day, the way her mother recited memories. She didn’t have any she wanted to share. Not yet.

  Jorick stepped behind her to wrap an arm around her waist. She leaned back against his solid strength. The dagger she’d transferred to her pocket stabbed her in the side. She pulled free of Jorick to tug it out of her pocket. The firelight gleamed on the gemstone. She wondered how many fires it had seen, how many sacrifices, how much meaningless death?

  The blade had taken sacrifices at Lilith’s altar. Here were the final three, dead because of Lilith’s desire for power. She tossed the dagger into the flames. It was fitting the weapon went with them, as if it would stop the flow of blood and death.

  It wasn’t the only blade who’d seen destruction. She thought of the cursed blade of Nu-Gua, presumably on its way to Munich. Good riddance. Everyone who’d owned it died horribly, even Sarah and Lilith. Maybe the ancient curse was real.

  The fire died down and the group split up. Katelina followed Jorick into the night. Neither spoke until the pyre was a dot in the distance.

  “Are you okay?”

  Katelina nodded. “You were right. It was what she wanted. I wish it had been different. I wish a lot of t
hings were different.”

  He brushed the hair back from her face. “I know. But wishing won’t change anything. The best you can do is try to move forward.”

  “Is there any other way to go?”

  He took her hands in his. “Some people try to stay where they are. Worse, others try to go back.”

  She gave him a sad smile. “I don’t have anything to go back to. I lost my apartment long ago. My childhood home is destroyed. My best friend is dead. My mother is a vampire. Good Lord. I turned my mother!”

  Jorick chuckled. “Whose fault is that?” He kissed the tip of her nose. “As long as she doesn’t live within three hundred miles of us, I’m sure everything will be fine.”

  Katelina’s eyes bulged. “Oh God. Where is she going to live?”

  He turned serious. “It will work out, little one.”

  “I know, I just…And when she finds out about the wedding…”

  “Wedding?” His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “I wasn’t sure you were planning to go through with that.”

  “With marrying you? Why wouldn’t I?”

  He coughed lightly. “Because you’re terrified of commitment. I couldn’t believe you said yes in the first place. I assumed you’d try to back out later.”

  A cold spot formed in her stomach. “You asked, expecting me to say no? You didn’t really mean it?”

  “Of course I meant it, little one, and I wanted you to say yes. I just didn’t expect it.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m glad you agreed.”

  “Are you sure it’s what you want? I mean, forever is a long time and—”

  “I knew you’d panic eventually.”

  “It’s not what you think. My mind is made up. I’m saying you might—”

  “I know what I want, little one.”

  He sealed the promise with a kiss.

  Epilogue

  Katelina tensed in front of the mirror. It was October, five months since the battle, since Sarah died, and Samael disappeared. In all that time she’d heard from him once, a single sentence:

  “I am home. When you weary of the world, you are welcome.”

  Verchiel said he’d retaken his palace in China, and the humans were advised to let it go. The Kugsankal, now led by Inanna, was keeping an eye on him. Katelina wondered if they could actually stop him if they needed to.

  Hopefully we never find out.

  The Guild had gotten away with the attack in Arizona. Internet videos surfaced after the fact, showing a rooftop fight with super humans. Public opinion labeled them fake. A lone survivor tried to tell the story of what he’d seen. He made it as far as a crackpot radio show before he was found in an alley, dead from an overdose.

  Zander went back to his coven, seemingly older and wiser. Though he’d started to pray to a nameless entity, his brothers soon had him back to their old ways. They convinced him that Lilith had stolen the title from the real Night Goddess and twisted the religion into something vile to suit her; that praying to the goddess was not praying to Lilith. For all Katelina knew, they were right. When Samael had planned to turn her, he’d spoken of night gods, and the language of Zander’s prayers was the same that Samael had used. Maybe it was based on something from thousands of years ago.

  Meanwhile, Brandle and Angelica disappeared, promising to “visit”, though they all knew it was a polite lie.

  As for Kai, he’d settled into being a vampire with the same quiet fortitude he’d used to survive being a human slave. Katelina wished she had half his calm. Especially, today.

  She blinked at herself and leaned closer to her reflection. She’d tried to imitate some of the tricks Torina had used on her; the shaded lipstick, the multi-layered eyeshadow. She wasn’t as good as the Vampiress had been, but it was an improvement over her usual “slap it on and go” routine.

  The thought of Torina brought a bittersweet sadness. If she’d still been alive, no doubt she’d have been there. Instead…

  Xandria leaned in front of Katelina to attached the filmy veil. “There. Now you look like a TV bride.”

  After everything with Loren and Zander, Katelina wasn’t sure how she felt about Xandria, but she’d needed a bridesmaid. Women seemed to be in short supply in her world.

  Katelina sighed. “I might look good, but I can’t see.” There was no way she could walk from her room, all the way to the atrium, without tripping over everything in the citadel.

  The Guild’s citadel was the last place she’d wanted to hold her wedding, until Jorick pointed out they’d be responsible for housing guests.

  “You look beautiful, Kately,” her mother enthused.

  Katelina lifted the veil to peer at her mom’s teary eyed face. “Of course you think so. You’re my mother. It’s a requirement.”

  Patricia patted her daughter’s updo, tucking in stray hairs. “Not necessarily.” She touched the collection of charms around Katelina’s neck. “This necklace…”

  “It’s fine, mom.”

  “What is it?” She picked through an antique cross, a little blue jewel, and half of a shattered heart, its inscription worn smooth with age.

  “The cross belonged to Jorick’s ex-wife.” Xandria slipped on her shoes. “The other two belonged to Sarah.”

  “Jorick’s ex? Really?” Her mother studied her. “Is he making you wear this?”

  “No, mother.” Katelina stepped back, forcing her to let go. “He’d rather I throw it away, but I don’t want to. It’s a part of him, like Sarah was a part of me; a part of our pasts and what made us who we are. Getting rid of a piece of jewelry won’t change that.”

  “No, but it looks terrible.” Her mother stuffed the charms down the neckline of the dress. “If you must wear it, everyone doesn’t need to see it.”

  Katelina let it go. It doesn’t matter, she told herself. Like the other five million fussy things her mother had butted into didn’t matter.

  Why am I doing this again?

  But she knew the answer. It was waiting for her in the atrium, no doubt as aggravated as she was.

  Yeah, well, the wedding was his idea.

  Patricia adjusted a jeweled bracelet on Katelina’s wrist. Sadness flashed in her eyes and disappeared. Katelina understood; the piece was all that was left of her grandmother’s jewelry, lost in the destruction.

  A knock sounded. Xandria opened the door on Micah.

  “Hey, you about ready to go, or you plannin’ to hold the whole damn thing up?”

  “She’s ready,” her mother said. “I don’t know why you chose him to be involved.”

  Katelina hadn’t actually chosen Micah. When the word wedding came up, he’d immediately signed himself up with the excuse that he was her master— “This fledgling shit has to count for something, huh?” It turned out he was right; instead of her father, her master would be the one to give her away.

  I’m not human anymore, yet they still treat me like a hamster.

  Getting him to dress up was another matter. Katelina noticed that, though he wore the suit and red tie they’d picked out, he still had his motorcycle boots.

  It doesn’t matter. It’s just a detail. It’s not important.

  She gave herself a once over in the mirror. When Jorick first insisted on a white dress she accused him of being old fashioned, then realized it was another branch of his woman-in-white fetish. Not that she didn’t like the dress. The bodice was made of white swirls with a plunging neckline that showed just enough cleavage to be feminine. Sheer three-quarter sleeves were capped in more swirls at the shoulders and cuffs, while the skirt was a mound of chiffon that made her think of a fairytale princess.

  But the veil was overkill.

  She tugged it free and tossed it on the bed. “That’s better.”

  Her mother frowned. “A veil is traditional.”

  “So is throwing rice and releasing doves, but we’re not doing that.” She took a deep breath. “All right. Let’s get this over with.”

  Her mother stuffed a giant bouquet in her hand
s. A mixture of blood red tulips, garden roses, and protea, surrounded by ferns and tied with a silvery white ribbon, it had been Xandria’s choice, “A bold contrast,” she’d called it, then launched into a long explanation of symbolism that Katelina nodded along to.

  Xandria picked up her own bouquet—a smaller version with a single heavy rose and a few tulips—and smoothed her black sheath dress. Sleeveless, it would have been risqué on a more endowed woman. With Xandria’s slim frame and small chest, it worked.

  Patricia pursed her lips, and Katelina ignored it. Her mother had strong opinions about a bridesmaid wearing black. “It’s unlucky.” Xandria had gone off on a long spiel about the true nature of black and its meaning. Katelina had tuned out. She didn’t care about bold contrast, or secret symbols. She just wanted to look good for the pictures.

  I’ll have to look at them for a long, long time.

  Micah motioned impatiently to the door. Katelina followed, holding her huge skirt up with one hand, balancing the bouquet in her other arm. The bald vampire rolled his eyes and took the floral bundle. “Hold the damn skirt up with both hands and come on.”

  As they headed down the corridor, they passed a pair of vampires who stared. Katelina ignored them. She had more important things to worry about, like making it to the atrium, then down the aisle, then not screwing something up.

  I am never doing this again.

  While they waited for an elevator, Patricia eyed Micah disapprovingly. “Quit tugging on your tie.”

  “It’s fucking strangling me.”

  Xandria loosened it, then unbuttoned the top button on his shirt. “There. Better?”

  “That looks horrible!” Patricia said.

  Xandria shrugged. “He has the kind of look that can carry it off.”

  “You mean tattooed and wild?” Patricia asked darkly.

  Micah leaned closer to her. “You wanna see how wild I am, babe? Drop that baby faced loser and I’ll show you.”

  Katelina lifted her skirt and stamped hard on his foot. “Don’t hit on my mother. That’s disgusting.”

  “Yes, it is!” Patricia snapped. “Not because I’m your mother, but because I’m obviously not interested.”