Aeonian Dreams (Zyanya Cycle Book 2)

by Morgan J. Muir

  He inhaled deeply, tasting the salt in the air and feeling a clean breeze sweep down from the shore, caressing his shoulders as it passed and swirled about. Smiling, Mikhael closed his eyes and gave himself up to his other senses, adjusting automatically to the rise and fall of the boat beneath him. Sailing relaxed him like nothing else he had experienced. It was peaceful. He could almost imagine that he did not remain a prisoner, a puppet of some twisted master, that he didn’t live by stealing the lives of others. He could almost believe that he hadn’t spent his entire remembered existence with a woman he merely tolerated, while longing for a specter who he wasn’t sure had ever really been.

  The thought of the dark-haired angel who haunted his memories turned his mind to the pendant he always kept on his person. Often, throughout the years, he had longed to rid himself of the thing nearly as strongly as he longed to throw off the ropes of Theron and Elisa, cords that existed only to control him. But this stone — what had it ever asked of him? How had it ever tried to control him? Many times he had held it out over the sea, needing only to twitch his hand and let it slip into the deep, but he could not. That such a small, insignificant little bit of rock could hold such sway over him galled him. As though it called to him, he reached into a pocket and pulled it out.

  Opening his eyes, he looked at the pendant in its diamond-studded setting. What he really wanted, what he hoped for when he was being honest with himself, was that someday she would reappear. But she had not. Not for years. Not since that first time, the only time.

  “What power do you have over me?” he whispered into the night, touching the stone gently.

  “The same you hold over me,” a voice whispered in the wind. Startled, Mikhael dropped into a crouch and looked around, searching for the speaker who had no scent and made no noise. When he found nothing, the thought crept into his mind that he had simply imagined an answer from the flapping of the sail, the crash of the waves, and the caress of the wind. A little irritated at himself, he sat down, leaning against the side of the boat.

  “Not only can I not rid myself of you, now I think you’re speaking to me,” Mikhael said ruefully to the trinket. Sighing, he leaned his head back and gazed up at the stars. “Perhaps I am finally going mad.”

  “I have sometimes wondered if immortals ever went mad,” the quiet voice replied.

  “I think you are the proof of it,” Mikhael responded with a smile, his gaze still on the stars.

  “No more than you are,” came the enigmatic reply.

  “What do you mean by that?” he asked. He decided he liked the voice; it was feminine, sure, and beautiful. If he had to hallucinate, he was glad it was pleasant.

  “If I am your madness, then you are mine.” The voice had a smile in it. Mikhael closed his eyes and the dark-haired angel appeared in his mind. Yes, he thought, the voice matches you.

  Chapter 23

  Mariah sat in the stern of the boat, speaking to her husband. Miguel had not seen her yet, had not looked her way, and for that she was glad. She feared that the joy of being seen by him combined with that of seeing him and, even more, speaking with him, would once again overwhelm her and fling her back to her own body, so far away. They spoke most of the night as the distant storm dissipated, mostly of inconsequential things, while avoiding things from their life before. Mariah was far too scared to ask, to find out if he remembered her.

  The moon had set, and the night was at its darkest, when Miguel set the boat back toward shore. They reached the docks as the sky began to brighten. Miguel looked up at the dimming stars and sighed.

  “This has been the most pleasant evening I’ve experienced, even if it was a hallucination,” he said as he prepared to tie off the boat. “I hope to do it again sometime.”

  “I wish I didn’t have to leave, either,” Mariah said. “I will return as often as I can, though.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” he said, and Mariah lifted her ethereal body into the air and returned to her waiting flesh, which sat with a pleasant smile on her face.

  “Productive evening?” Nana asked, as Mariah blinked her eyes back into focus.

  “I’d like to think so,” she said as she stood, brushing off her skirt and taking in her surroundings.

  “Are you ready to go, then?”

  “Go where?” Mariah was confused.

  “You said you needed to return,” Nana said. “Is that not still the case?”

  “Right,” Mariah said, wilting a bit. She had been so absorbed in the time she’d spent with Miguel, that for a while, she had forgotten about it completely. She had forgotten about almost everything in the joy of being with him. Her resolve hardened, as she recalled that this was why she was here. To be with him again. “Let’s go.”

  Nana nodded curtly and shouldered a pack, walking to a horse saddled and waiting a few yards away. As Mariah neared it, the animal shied and tried to back away.

  “What are you thinking, child?” Nana asked crossly. “Don’t you think this creature knows you’re nothing good for it?”

  Mariah was shocked. In all this time, all these years, she had not really come in contact with any horses. Goats and sheep she’d been around plenty, but not horses. Mariah backed away, but the animal still watched her, his head thrown high and his eyes showing white, as Nana mounted up.

  “Best not to follow behind,” Nana warned. “My bones may not be able to break, but my flesh can certainly bruise, and I don’t enjoy getting hurt.”

  “Of course,” Mariah acquiesced, and waited as Nana galloped on her way. She trailed behind after a few minutes, certain she’d be far enough back to keep the horse from spooking again.

  Mariah caught up to Nana as night fell, the horse snorting at her as she approached the campfire. Nana tossed her a bag as she sat beside the woman, a donation from the village which she accepted gratefully.

  “What is the plan, then?” she asked when she had finished.

  “I will wait here for your signal, no fewer than three days after that viper returns. I do not want him to be suspicious of you. Tell him that there was some deranged old woman who followed you, wanting to challenge him.”

  Mariah nodded, and Nana took her hands.

  “When the time comes, you are not to attack until I give you the signal,” Nana said, looking her in the eye. “Will you do that?”

  “I will.”

  “Then go, chica, and remember that I love you.”

  Mariah left her, sitting alone by her fire, and continued toward Sophus’s caves. Completely unhindered for the first time in so many years, Mariah let go of all her inhibitions and ran, pushing herself to go faster than she had ever gone before. The ground beneath her melted together and the flora and fauna blurred as she sped past. The mountains far to the south grew and swung around to her left, spinning slowly as she traveled. The speed was exhilarating; it was liberating. She felt that if she could only go a little faster, she would fly. Giddy with the feeling, she giggled as she spread her arms like a falcon and reflexively threw her consciousness into the air. And still she ran. She was there, in her body, controlling it, running with it, while at the same time flying free above it. She had finally done it!

  Exhilarated and feeling impossibly triumphant, she neared the cave entrance, slowing down to moderate her sound. The more she slowed, however, the closer she had to be to her body to control it until finally she was securely back. Full of joy, she walked willingly back into her prison.

  Iráma met her in the dark entryway, concern written across her face.

  “What is so dire that you should look that way?” Mariah asked. “You should be full of joy!”

  “What have you done?” she asked, putting a concerned hand on Mariah’s arm. “I’ve never seen him so angry, so brooding. Calm yourself and try to placate him.”

  Mariah’s good mood evaporated in a flash, and she took a deep breath to calm her sudden nerves. “How long has he been back? What is upsetting him?”

  “Only a day, but he has
been insisting that if you didn’t return quickly, he’d go find you. Tread carefully.”

  “I will. Please let him know that I am back, am getting cleaned up, and will come to him soon.”

  Iráma nodded and hurried off, giving orders for others to draw Mariah a bath, and Mariah went to her room. The moment the door shut behind her, she cast herself into the dream world.

  Nana! she called out across the windy fields, her voice carried on the stormy winds. Nana! He is here already and angry. I will let you know ….. A pounding on her door drew her back to her body, and she opened the door to find Sophus on the other side.

  “I was just getting cleaned up before coming to you,” she said, gesturing him into the room. He stormed in, ignoring the women who came in behind him to prepare her bath.

  “What were you doing, being gone so long?” he snapped.

  “I was enjoying the change of scenery, and I’m afraid I got sidetracked.” A plausible story.

  “I never said that you could leave like that.”

  She laid her hand on his arm, hoping to calm him. “But you gave me permission, don’t you remem —”

  “You’re not to go out again without my express permission, do you understand?”

  “Of course,” she said, bowing her head. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

  His demeanor softened, and he stepped closer to her. “You did indeed. You won’t again, though, will you?”

  “Of course not.” She flashed him a smile. “If you’d excuse me, though, I would like to change into some clean clothes.”

  She gestured down at her dress, and he stepped back, appraising her. “Yes. Burn that when you’re done with it, and put on something elegant. We have plans to discuss.”

  She smiled again as he walked out. “As you say.”

  The door shut behind him, and Mariah sagged with relief. Fretting that she’d called Nana prematurely, she began to brush out her hair and undress. Even the hot bath couldn’t take her mind off her worry. She wished Wuchii or Iráma were there to give her someone to talk to, but then again, what could they have safely talked about? It was better to be scarce at times like these, anyhow. As the coming sunrise began to light her dark chamber, she wandered again into the dream world.

  She stood, frozen, in the morning light before Sophus’s lair. Mariah looked around the dream world, confused. She’d never entered it like this; always she began in the fields of Maracaibo. The wind buffeted her, pulling her attention back to what was before her.

  It’s a vision! Mariah realized, catching her breath. After all this time … Her excitement was not dampened when she saw Sophus walk out from his lair with his pale golden curls and immaculate clothing, strutting with a surety that came from centuries of life. Across the entrance from her stood the ghost woman who wandered the labyrinth. Their eyes met for a moment, until the woman gestured back to Sophus.

  Sophus walked past them, talking inaudibly to Nana. Mariah watched as he strode up to Nana and took her by throat, lifting her off the ground. Mariah tried to rush to her aid but found that she could not move. In horror, she watched as Sophus tore Nana’s head from her body but, instead of blood, fire spouted from the decapitated neck and consumed Nana’s flesh. The flame grew into the shape of a giant demon, sinuous with large wings. It tore itself away from Sophus’s grasp and turned on him, picking up the ancient vampire as the wind swirled about Mariah. The whispering of the wind through the grass mingled with the hiss of the fire as the demon spoke angrily to Sophus in a language Mariah could almost understand, until Sophus, too, burst into flame. His ashes fell to the ground and the fire serpent crouched down, sending flame across the dirt in every direction.

  Mariah shrank back in fear that the flames would consume her, too. The dancing fire surrounded her, and Mariah could not help the panic that rose in her throat. Frantically, she tried to move against the force that held her in place as the flames rose until they were all she could see; until they filled her very mind, pushing against her with their heat. Then, as though in a sudden puff of breath, they were gone, and Mariah stood in a place she had been only twice before: Theron’s throne room, dark and eerie with sculpted columns along the walls. The floor was strewn with rotting carrion, and before her was his throne-like chair, not unlike the one Sophus had sat on for their first audience. In it sat a disfigured, limbless man. His hate-filled eyes flicked up to meet hers, and he gave her a feral smile that sent a chill of fear down her spine. His eyes told her that, had he been able, he’d have leapt at her and destroyed everything about her with relish. Theron. The name filled her mind with anger. In the strange way of dreams, she felt herself walk up to him and raise her hands. They were covered in flame, which shot toward him, consuming him as it had Sophus. Mariah saw the ghost woman beside her, thoughtful as they both watched Theron burn to ashes. A wind shot through the room, carrying the ashy dust to be scattered over the ocean.

  And then she was back in her room, her bath water gone cold and the morning light stronger than it should have been.

  Nana? Mariah called out, partially reaching out into the dream world. Are you there?

  I am coming as quickly as I can, child, the woman responded, though her voice seemed to come from across a great distance. Be ready. Try to have him distracted when I arrive.

  No! You mustn’t! I did it; I saw a vision, but in it you die. Do you understand me? You’ll die! Mariah struggled to convey the urgency to Nana as she dried off.

  In your vision I destroy him, do I not? Nana asked, her voice subdued.

  Yes, Mariah admitted reluctantly as she dressed in a dark blue dress with gold brocade that fitted her figure before flaring elegantly, but not unreasonably, at her hips.

  Then there is nothing to fear. I have seen the same vision many times. I will see you soon.

  Mariah checked herself in the mirror as she tried to get ahold of her frantic feelings. She said she’d be all right. She’s seen it too. She knows what she’s doing. The sleeves of the dress left her shoulders bare, with her white, lace chemise bunched above her chest and flowing down to her elbows. Mariah coiffed her hair, setting it with pearl and blue enamel barrettes, and donned a matching necklace as she reassured herself. Checking herself once more in the mirror, she took a deep, steadying breath. Here we go.

  Holding her head up and throwing her shoulders back, Mariah walked from her room, as though she had not a care in the world, and swept into Sophus’s chambers. He stood, perusing a bookshelf, as much like a blond Adonis as any man could hope to be, yet Mariah could feel his anger as though the very air vibrated with it. He shut the book and grinned at her, a smile another woman might take for charming, but she knew it meant danger. Her stomach clenched, but Mariah would not let her fear show.

  “What are you reading?” she asked, taking the book from his hands.

  “Come. I have something to show you,” he said, taking her elbow and leading her toward his large desk. She hesitated, unsure of his abrupt dismissal of her question.

  “What is it?” she asked, gesturing to the several packages he’d stacked on and around his desk.

  “My profits from the city. I had a most enlightening trip, you see.” His voice was dark, his hand pressed firmly against her back as he led her around the table.

  Mariah’s heart almost seemed to beat, she was so nervous. He’d never behaved like this before; always it was more like a boy showing off his exploits when he told her of the things he’d done when he was gone.

  “My lord Sophus.” Iráma entered calmly into the room, but the suddenness of it startled Mariah, her muscles tensing as though ready for a fight. “There is a woman outside who insists that she needs to meet with you.”

  “Leave us,” Sophus growled.

  Iráma bowed and began to back out of the room. “She seeks to challenge you, my lord.” And she fled.

  Sophus turned on Mariah, grabbing her arm. “What is this?”

  “Nothing.” Mariah kept herself from pulling away.

>   “Is that what you’ve been doing? I give you a bit of freedom, of responsibility, and you throw it in my face? You went and found yourself some challenger to my rule, is that it?” He jerked her forward as she spoke. Controlling her fear, she laid a hand on his chest, attempting to disarm him.

  “No, who could think to challenge you?” She laughed. “It is but a daft old biddy I ran into as I returned. She followed me, talking crazy about how she couldn’t stand what you’ve done for so long. I thought I’d lost her last night.”

  Sophus pursed his lips. “You will come.”

  With Sophus leading her by the wrist, they sped through the tunnels into the growing sunlight. The Greek columns beside the entrance were still in shadow, and Sophus pushed her at one. “You will stay there and not move.”

  She nodded and he glared at her for a moment longer. She tried to make herself appear trustworthy, contrite. She kept her eyes down so that he wouldn’t see that she had no intention whatsoever of obeying. He turned away, and her eyes flicked up, hoping to see Nana.

  The old woman was walking down the ridge, the morning sunlight gleaming off her long, pale hair. Carefully, Mariah stepped away from her body to stand beside her mentor, the ghost woman there by Kasha’s side already.

  I’m glad you made it, child, Kasha said. There is much you need to see and to know.

  I told you I would, Mariah said. I don’t understand, though. What is it that I need to know that you couldn’t have just told me?

  Patience. All is as I saw it. Kasha’s spirit turned and looked at Mariah, causing a strange double vision over Nana’s physical body. You must promise me, though, that no matter what happens you will not interfere until it is done.

  Not interfere? Until what is done? I thought we had planned to do this together, Mariah said, beginning to worry.

  Time is short. You must promise me. I will force you to if I must, but I’d rather not spend the energy on you. Promise me!