“Wait,” she cried as the door closed behind him. She jumped up and hobbled forward. Reign stood on the other side of the glass, one hand pressed to it, his expression—unreadable.
“No!” She tugged the handle. It didn’t budge. “Open the door.”
He shook his head and mouthed. “Stay here.” Then he was gone, swallowed by the mist.
“Alexis.” Her father stalked across the room. “What’s going on?” He used the same tone on his troops.
A crash sounded outside and the crowd pressed closer. The heavy smack of flesh hitting flesh reaching them and an excited gasp raced around the finely clad guests, sickening her. This wasn’t a prizefight.
“Help me.” She pounded on the glass. Thomas gripped her shoulders and tried to pull her away. She jerked out of his grasp and bumped into George.
“Let go of me!” They wrestled her away. She slammed her elbow into George’s gut.
George grunted. “You don’t know what’s out there.”
Alexis knew exactly what was out there. The lights blinked twice and then winked out. Panic circled the room and the murmured questions turned into angry demands as voices escalated. A bellow echoed outside. The crowd went silent. Another bellow—this time closer to the building—answered. A woman’s scream ended abruptly, replaced by smothered sobs.
Alexis crept closer to the glass. Thick mist whited out the landscape. Still, her eyes strained to catch a glimpse of Reign.
A patio chair crashed into a window, splintering the glass. The crowd rushed to the exit, but another bellow echoed in the shrouded night. This time, right outside the front of the building.
“We’re surrounded,” her father whispered.
“By what?” George glanced at his wife and children.
Footsteps sounded on the roof. Everyone’s head tilted upward.
Reign. She could tell by the tread.
Chandeliers swayed as he passed overhead. Alexis tracked him from left to right, until he stopped at the edge of the roof. A heavy thud landed on the other side and everyone’s head turned left. Footsteps, heavier than Reign’s, rushed across. Chunks of plaster fell and chandeliers rumbaed. The panicked crowd ran to the exits.
Alexis dove under a table and bumped into Gloria. Huddled together, Alexis couldn’t remember the last time she was this close to her parent. Frown lines framed her mother’s mouth and marred her forehead as her eyes widened in fear. Around them people screamed. George and his family were under the table across from her. Thomas and her father, another one. She peered around for John but couldn’t find him.
A chandelier broke free and crashed, striking the edge of the table, tilting it.
“What’s happening?” Gloria cried. Her fingers dug into Alexis’s arm.
She didn’t pry her mother’s gloved fingers from her and push her away, though she wanted to. Instead, she stared at her with ill-concealed anger. An equal amount flared in Gloria’s eyes. Somehow, her mother had the same cold, condescending glare she used from the moment Alexis escaped her womb. That one look would quell any rebellious outburst, wayward impulse, and unladylike behavior immediately.
Gloria lowered her eyes and dipped her chin. The hand gripping her arm softened and almost caressed her when the silk covered fingers slid from her skin. Her lips trembled, betraying an emotion her mother—Gloria—never showed. Her watery gaze rose. Alexis’s chest tightened. She steeled herself against the response.
This display wasn’t new, didn’t reveal anything different about the woman. Practice. Makes. Perfect. How many times had she stood before the mirror with Gloria inches away, instructing on how to achieve the perfect visage?
Smile brightly, Alexis. No, not like that! Too many teeth and you resemble a shark. Now you look like a horse. Close your mouth, no one wants to see your tongue. Eyes wider. Did someone poke you in them? No, don’t glare like that. You’ll frighten the judges.
“Alexis, if what I said seemed harsh…”
Gloria’s voice drifted away on a wistful note, as if the bitterness she spewed thirty minutes ago had evaporated on a different breeze and was nothing more than a disagreement over the dress Alexis chose to wear. Her mother wanted Alexis to finish the sentence, supply the apology, save her from having to admit anything. From saying two fucking words.
I’m sorry. She had never heard those words emerge from her mother’s mouth. And at twenty-five, she’d no longer wait for them.
Enough of this. She had to help Reign. She scooted out from under the table when something heavy hit the surface. The table tilted and the edge banged into her head. Dazed, she slumped.
“Alexis!” Gloria caught her. Her mother shook her and tapped her face.
“I’m okay.” Alexis touched the tender spot above her hairline and winced. Her fingers came back red. She tried to sit up, but Gloria pushed her down, examining her scalp.
“Are you sure?” Gloria asked.
Now she’s concerned? “I’m good.” The swimming sensation between Alexis’s ears called her a liar. She paused and beat back the urge to hurl. On all fours, a full minute passed before all her senses re-aligned and were in compliance again. That’s when she realized she was missing something.
Her gun.
Her purse and weapon were missing. She scrambled from beneath the table. Chaos surrounded her. Muted cries mixed with the crowd rushing from one end of the room to the other, trying to guess where the battle wasn’t. A couple pushed her out of their way and she bumped into Mrs. Kelly.
“There you are!” Mrs. Kelly yelled above the din of falling plaster and screams. “Where’s Reign?”
“Out there.” Alexis pointed to the shrouded golf course. “We ran here. Then he left and did something to the door so I couldn’t follow him. Now I can’t find my gun and I have to get back out there to help him.” She ignored the skeptical glare on the elderly woman’s face.
“Help me!” Alexis grabbed Mrs. Kelly’s thin shoulders.
Mrs. Kelly nodded and searched the floor.
“Alexis, get back under here,” Gloria called.
A woman dodged a chunk of plaster and plowed into Alexis’s side. Alexis spun, lost her footing on a piece of ceiling, and fell to her knees, bruising herself on a piece of rubble. Wincing, she lifted her knee and saw her grandmother’s gold bracelet. Green eyes in one head, red eyes in the other, both twinkled at her.
Alexis forgot about her missing gun and the pandemonium surrounding her. She forgot about Reign, fighting for his life outside on his own. She forgot about the monsters, Egyptian Gods, Eidos, and everything else.
Compelled, she reached for her grandmother’s bracelet—and blinked.
Did the jewelry leap into her hand and snake its warm body around her wrist, metal against flesh, snug and secure? Or, did she do it and didn’t remember. Maybe the knock to her head did more than split skin. Hand aloft, stretched out as if her lower arm belonged to someone else, Alexis examined the antique.
“Where did you get that?” Gloria grabbed her hand, breaking the trance.
“I found it at Grandmother’s.” She attempted to pull her hand out of her mother’s grasp.
“Give it to me.” Gloria pried her fingers around one of the head and tried to uncoil the body.
The bracelet’s grip tightened.
“I found your purse!” Mrs. Kelly rushed up, holding out the clutch.
Alexis snatched her hand away from Gloria. She opened her purse and gripped the cold metal of her Glock. Being armed should have comforted her, it didn’t. The bracelet on her wrist gave her more confidence than the gleaming black metal and the full clip.
Mrs. Kelly pointed to the bracelet. “Oh, dear. Where did you get that?”
The building shook like someone had taken a wrecking ball to it. Everyone ducked but Alexis. Though she had her gun, Reign’s words rang true. Bullets wouldn’t stop what was out there. Frustrated, she searched the room again for anything that would help.
Crossed cutlasses hung above the fir
eplace. Retro Civil War relics, she didn’t have the luxury of wondering the state of their condition.
Alexis dodged decorative molding and plaster raining from the ceiling, and screaming people as she made her way to the fireplace. On tiptoes she stretched, yet still couldn’t reach her goal. She moved the grill out of the way and dragged a chair over. As her hand closed over the hilt of the first sword, a beast crashed through the glass.
She ripped both blades off the wall, made sure the safety was on before stuffing her weapon—barrel first—into the bodice of her dress, and jumped to the ground. The beast had already leaped to his feet and rushed out to the fairway. Mrs. Kelly called to her, as did mother and father. She spotted her brothers herding their families.
“Alexis! What are you doing?” George, the closest to her yelled.
“My job,” she ground out. Why was it so easy for them to forget what she was? Carefully, she stepped bare-footed around the minefield of broken glass littering the floor.
“You can’t go out there,” her father called to her.
“I have to. Get everyone out of here to safety and wait for the police. Please, Dad.” Not waiting for an answer, Alexis stepped outside.
The cold bricks from the patio stabbed the soles of her feet. Five steps and the fog smothered her so thoroughly, her heartbeat could’ve been the drum leading the troops into battle. Dry grass crunched beneath her feet, announcing her presence. She stumbled along, favoring her ankle, all the while biting her tongue to keep from calling his name.
Smacking and grunting echoed around her. Alexis skidded to a halt. Frantic, she spun, straining her senses for a direction. Damn, he could be inches in front of her or yards away.
“Alexis,” Mrs. Kelly hissed closed by.
What the hell was she doing out here?
“Alexis,” Mrs. Kelly called louder and then ran right into her.
Only God kept Alexis from skewering the woman. “Get back in the building!” she whispered furiously and turned Mrs. Kelly around in what she hoped was the correct direction.
“I can help.” Mrs. Kelly gripped Alexis’s arm and tried to do the same thing Gloria did, pry the bracelet off her arm.
“Let go of me.” Alexis yanked her arm away and ran into the mist. She didn’t get far before tripping. She swallowed a yelp and braced for impact, sure that the grass would offer some comfort.
A body cushioned her fall. She couldn’t help the scream that ripped from her throat or her scramble to get away. The last thing she wanted was to be anywhere near one of those things much less laying on top of one, but it wasn’t a hybrid thingamajig.
It was a man.
He was older, mid-fifties with a paunch. Too much sun had turned his limbs, head, and neck leathery while his belly gleamed comically white. Only it wasn’t funny seeing his body sprawled on the greens with a jagged abdominal wound.
Caught in the crosshairs between Reign and the quimaera? How many more victims were out there? Indecision tore at her. She debated returning to the clubhouse or continuing her search for Reign. She’d asked her father and brothers to protect the guests and get them to safety. She had to trust that they wouldn’t fail her.
Something gurgled—followed by a wet, sucking sound.
It’s close.
Tremors spread along her nervous system, turning her insides soupy. Chest tight, she peered into the mist, willing the shroud to dissipate and allow her to see. She backed away and into something sharp.
With her weapons raised, she spun, ready to annihilate a spike from the decorative iron railing surrounding the clubhouse. Her gaze drifted down the length of the pole. The tip rested in the chest of a twenty-something-year-old man. No, not just a man, it was Dorian—Ruthless. The conversation days ago with his little brother, Dougie in the parking garage, crashed into her. Dorian’s clammy hand clamped onto her ankle. Broken wet words bubbled through the blood clogging his throat.
Alexis dropped to her knees and grasped his quivering hand. “It’s gonna be all right,” she told him, knowing nothing would ever be right for him again. She looked at the spike and it was a short debate on whether to remove it. She wouldn’t snatch the few seconds he had left on Earth away. He would die, pierced through the chest, on a country club golf course. Poor Dougie. Her heart ached for the little boy.
“Help.” The single word gurgled from Ruthless’s throat.
“Yes,” she nodded. “Help is coming. You’re going to be fine.” This was one lie she would proudly defend on Judgment Day.
His eyes rolled up, as if he was looking at someone. This is it. He’s gonna die right here in front of me. Instead of his lids slowly lowering and his chest heaving a sigh, the boy seemed to stare at a fixed point in the distance.
The mist shifted and she spotted Reign swinging for the upper deck with a pole from one of the patio umbrellas. The suit and tie were gone, replaced by his usual jeans and tee. He connected with the skull of a quimaera. The resulting shock wave reverberated in the mist. The beast flew and landed like a meteor striking the ground.
“M-my b-b-brother. Help him. M-my fault,” the boy mumbled through the blood clogging his throat.
Sudden realization exploded within her head. They’re men. He’s killing PEOPLE. But they're animals. Why didn’t I make the connection?
“That’s your brother?” Immediately, her thoughts leaped to Dougie. She shook his shoulder when his eyes started to close. “Which brother!”
“My f-fault Dante is h-h-here. Tell Mom I’m s-s-sorry,” he whispered as his grip weakened.
She held on tighter, willing strength into him. “What happened? How did this happen? How did you get here?”
“Promises…he p-promised so much…and w-we f-fell for it. T-tell my Mom—” His voice stopped in mid-sentence. The bit of life left in his eyes fled, chased off by death.
Alexis stopped breathing with him. Suspended in that fraction of time between life and death, a part of her wanted to grab him and somehow drag him back to the living. Not for his sake, but for the mother who would have to bury her child and the brother left behind.
Air rushed into her lungs, painful yet sweet. She had to save Dante. Give him a second chance, hopefully to make amends, right wrongs, and live a better life. Maybe he had learned his lesson and this foray into the darkness would be his last. She would never know and she’d scant time to wonder. Reign had reached his prey. He’d lifted the pole above his head, his intention clear.
She raised her gun and fired a single shot in the air. “Reign, stop!” she yelled.
His head jerked around. The spiked tail of the quimaera flicked and embedded deep in Reign’s chest. Lifted off the ground, Reign dangled in the air, waving like a flag in a stiff breeze before being slammed to the ground. With another flick, the tail yanked free and the beast limped away, leaving Reign motionless on the grass.
***
Nephythys held the bowl, her gaze fixated on the muddy waters. She saw him, the object of her obsession, walking with, talking to, kissing, touching, lusting, f-f-fornicating with a woman.
“Careful, wife.” SET pried her fingers from the bowl. “Do not damage the sacred relic.” He moved it a safe distance away.
She couldn’t breathe. Images of them together clashed in her head until she braced against the table for support. All the while her husband’s rabid eyes glared, his thoughts fermenting behind his red-rimmed stare. Nephythys forced herself to turn and face him. An iron will kept her from glancing at the bowl.
“How long had the human lingered in your home?” SET asked.
That was not the question he wanted answered. She could tell him the truth. But by the destruction of every room they’d passed through, she doubted the wisdom of volunteering that piece of information. Unfortunately, she couldn’t lie. The Goddess of Judgment must be truthful lest she be judged unworthy of her post. “Two centuries.”
Darkness churned beneath his translucent skin much like a tornado destroying a placid landscape. “Know
this wife. Our bargain is at an end. Every night you will appear in my chambers. Unclothed, nimble, and wet.”
Nephythys stifled a cry of outrage. SET could do much worse to her. Besides, once she deposited her body in SET’s bedroom, her essence would depart as it always had.
“Essence intact, wife.”
“What?” She could not have heard him correctly.
SET crowded her, loomed over her until his brittle features filled her vision. “I will have you every night into perpetuity with your essence wedged inside this form.” His gaze traveled down her body followed by the tip of a single claw. From her cheek to her neck, down to the curve of her breast to circle a puckered nipple, her flesh flamed in angry response.
“Starting tonight.”
Nephythys blinked and he was gone without even a stray tendril trailing behind. She reached for something to destroy, then thought better of it. So many of her precious items were already broken she had little left to vent her anger upon.
Freedom. That precious commodity she had so little of, now she had even less. Every night to lay beneath SET, staring into his soulless eyes while he rutted above her, completely aware, feeling each thrust.
In a hot wave, her returning vis’Ra rolled through her. Immediately, she cleansed and clothed herself. It was barely enough. If she could shed her skin and burn it in the lava pits, she would. What joy she had in this existence ended the moment she stared into the sacred Nile waters.
Reign. Once revered, his name was now a bitter wedge in her heart. The Scrying bowl waited. Reign waited. His punishment would not be a simple banishment to the lowest levels of Duat.
She would take from him what he took from her. Then give him the judgment he truly deserved.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Something wasn’t right. A moment ago, he was about to kill the final quimaera. Then, Alexis distracted him. Now, his body wouldn’t cooperate. His legs wouldn’t move and his breathing labored. How did this injury happen? The battle was won. All the beasts lay dead at his hands. No power other than his could claim victory this night. Neither the goddess nor the Vanquished. He alone defended what belonged to him. Alexis. His skill and ingenuity saved her and her family from extinction.
Everlasting (Descendants of Ra: Book 2) Page 28