Beautiful Salvation

by Jennifer Blackstream

  He tore his gaze from his ex-lover and stared at Aiyana, studying her chest for the telltale signs of breathing. He weakened with relief when her chest rose and fell with the same slow, smooth rhythm it had since the curse had taken her.

  Chumana gritted her teeth, the muscles in her jaw tensing. “Yes, she’s alive…for now.”

  Saamal growled as he faced Chumana. “Get out.”

  “Or you’ll what?” Chumana demanded, her eyes sparking. “I know about your trips to the Dreamworld, my love. I know you’ve been there more than once, and I know you would have had to drink the elixir of the sun to get there. You don’t have the power to recover from such an experience quickly. Why it wouldn’t surprise me at all if you were incapable of getting out of that bed!”

  Saamal wiped the emotion from his face, reining in his temper. The goddess was right, he didn’t have the power to expel her. He met his former lover’s eyes, searching them for some sign of humanity, some sign that she could be reasoned with. “It’s over, Chumana. There is nothing left for you here. Even if you managed to remove Aiyana from the picture, I would not return to you. Our time together is past.”

  “I will not be cast aside!” Chumana shrieked, green fire flaring to life in her eyes. Her pupils thinned to reptilian slits. “Have you forgotten all the pretty words you had for me when you stole me from my husband?”

  Saamal exhaled slowly through his nose. “I thought that our union would bring more power to the land. I was only trying to do what was best for my people. I’m sorry I—”

  “No!” Chumana’s eyes blazed with her ire and she pointed a trembling finger at Saamal. “No, you will not do this. I am not a means to an end, oh mighty Lord of Near and Nigh. I will not be cast aside so easily. You whispered your sweet promises in my ear, and by the oak you will keep those promises.” She straightened her spine, brushing her hands down her snug red dress. “I have Aiyana, Saamal. I visited the Dreamworld too. Agree to our marriage—a marriage that includes our blood bond to the earth—and I will make her death painless.”

  Saamal went perfectly still, a deadly calm coming over him even as rage crashed over him like a storm-tossed wave. The skin on his face grew tight, pinched, and he slowly pressed his fingers into the bed, claws slipping free to pierce the downy cushion. Fur sprouted along his skin, rushing over him in a comforting surge of energy and he parted his lips enough to flash sharp white fangs. Chumana’s mask of triumph wavered only slightly.

  “You won’t kill me, Death. If Aiyana dies, I am your only hope for reviving the land you treasure so dearly.”

  Her words fell away from him, ignored for the meaningless prattle they were. She’d gone too far, threatened too much. Saamal took a deep, slow breath, reaching down inside himself, searching for more power, more energy. He would wipe that smirk off her face and then he would find Aiyana—

  “Aiyana is fine.”

  Saamal fell back, shocked as Tenoch appeared in front of him, his ghostly form appearing even more translucent in the light of the torches. The feathers in his headdress wavered in the breeze from the window, a faint echo of the gusts outside. He crossed his arms, facing Saamal with an expression that stated very clearly he didn’t want to be here.

  “She’s fine?” Saamal echoed, hope rising.

  The ghost nodded. “She asked me to come and see you. To tell you your former lover,” he shot a dirty look over his shoulder at Chumana, “failed in her assassination attempt.”

  Relief dragged Saamal’s shoulders down and he didn’t bother to hide it from Chumana. Quite the contrary, he couldn’t help meeting her eyes and giving her a satisfied smirk.

  “You have been misinformed about Aiyana’s state of imprisonment,” he told her lightly. “My true future bride is alive and free.”

  Chumana cursed, glaring daggers at Tenoch. “You miserable interfering apparition,” she snarled. “I’ll make you pay for your insolence.”

  Tenoch snorted. “How?”

  With a scream of frustration, Chumana swept out of the room, her hair whipping behind her like an angry flag. Across the room, Adonis took a step toward the door, then hesitated.

  “Do you want me to follow her?” he asked. “Make sure she leaves?”

  Saamal shook his head rapidly. “No, no, there’s no point. If she wanted back in she could come back, there’s little we could do to stop her now. What I need is for you to bring me more of that elixir. I have to get back to Aiyana.”

  Adonis gaped at him, lips parted in shock, eyes wide. “I can’t do that. Saamal, you’re only barely recovering now—you could have died last time. You may be a god, but messing with travel back and forth from the astral plane is a bad idea. Even you may not survive it if your spirit is permanently separated from your body. If you try to go back again this soon, you may not wake up.”

  “Adonis, Chumana knows where Aiyana is, she already got to her once. I have to go back and protect her!”

  “If Aiyana is as strong as you say she is, then she will be fine,” Adonis said calmly, holding out his hands in a placating gesture. “Have a little faith.”

  Saamal’s stomach rolled. “I didn’t tell her about Chumana. Of all the sins I shared with her, I didn’t discuss that one.”

  “Well, if the precious Flower Maiden is telling the truth, and she did get to Aiyana once, then I’m sure she knows now,” Adonis pointed out. He paused. “Friendly word of warning, by the way. You’re going to pay for not telling her.”

  “Oh, yes,” Tenoch confirmed, a cruel smile twitching on his lips. “Yes, he will.”

  Unease wormed through Saamal’s stomach at the wicked pleasure on the ghost’s face, but before he could press Tenoch for details, a monstrous roar echoed outside. The sound seemed to vibrate the very stone of the castle, grating over the rock as if it would send the palace tumbling into rubble. The blood drained from Saamal’s face and he slowly turned to the window.

  Adonis was already there, his wingspan blocking most of what lay beyond from Saamal’s view.

  “Oh, my,” he muttered.

  Saamal gritted his teeth and eased himself off the bed, grateful when his right leg supported him. He took his sword from where it lay on the bed, still in its scabbard, and ignored the blow to his pride as he used the weapon for a crutch. Slowly, painfully, he limped his way to the window and the incubus that stood frozen staring out.

  “Apparently Chumana is calling in reinforcements,” Adonis mumbled.

  Saamal’s blood ran cold as he looked across the land and saw his worst nightmare coming true. Monstrous shadows approached the castle, varying in size, but united in the sickening throb of evil that emanated from their combined presence. Creatures he had avoided since his reduction in power converged on the castle in a grisly coup, their wild screams and roars announcing the castle’s impending doom.

  Thin ghostly shapes covered in white fur flickered between the trees like apparitions, their haunted, glowing amber eyes appearing between the tree trunks like hovering fireflies. They moved with shambling steps, but the restrained power that vibrated from their beings made it clear that once their prey was in range, they would move as gracefully as wraiths in the darkness. Wendigos.

  A frightening shape rose up sharply from the canopy of trees, thrusting up at the sky as if one of the towering mahogany trees had been uprooted. The moon provided a glowing backdrop for the massive horned head as it opened its mouth and bared two shining curved fangs. Its slitted eyes glowed fiery orange as it scanned the earth and then focused on the castle ahead. Its heavy reptilian coils crushed the trees in its path as the giant serpent slithered closer. Uktena.

  A vicious wind whipped through the leaves amidst a cacophony of blood curling screeches. Saamal held his breath as a cloud of what looked like bats erupted from the forest and darkened the early evening sky, threatening to block out the moon itself. As he focused on them, he could see that they weren’t bats, but rather severed heads with wings sprouting from their temples. He knew their mou
ths were full of sharp, bloodstained yellow teeth, eyes drowning in their endless hunger, a thirst for blood that could never be quenched. Kanontsistonties.

  “So these are your enemies?” Adonis breathed.

  “Some of them.” Saamal gripped the windowsill, closing his eyes against the despair threatening to overwhelm him. The gods weren’t there, none of his deified brethren. So far it was only the monsters, the creatures that curdled men’s blood and reminded the living of how terrifying things could get if they strayed from the path. But if Chumana was angry enough, if she could convince the other gods… He barked out a laugh, a dry humorless sound. Who was he kidding? In his current state, the monsters would be enough. Chumana had no need to make any deals with deities.

  “Do you still have that vial of Kirill’s blood?” Adonis asked suddenly.

  Saamal nodded, his eyes still on the dangers moving ever closer to the castle.

  “Get it.”

  “Summoning the vampire will do no good, Adonis. Even the vampire cannot fight all the monsters of my kingdom.” Quiet desperation built inside him, rising like the water of a flooding river. Not even his death curse could save Aiyana now, not if those monsters got into the castle. He didn’t have the power to get her out in time. But perhaps Adonis could…

  The scent of blood trickled past his nose and he turned to find Adonis spilling the vial of Kirill’s blood onto the bedroom floor. “How did you find that so quickly?”

  Adonis knelt and put a hand in the blood. “Kirill of Dacia, I summon you. By blood I call you.” He glanced up at Saamal, his eyes full of glowing scarlet flecks. “I can see auras as they reflect on the astral plane. I’m familiar with the aura of Kirill’s blood, and since this is where you spend all your time, I knew the vial would be in here.”

  “It won’t do any good. Even with all of Kirill’s connections, he won’t be able to gather the numbers we would need to fight the demons of my entire kingdom.”

  “My allies have signed agreements to aid me in battle,” a cool voice said.

  Saamal whirled to find Kirill standing in front of the mirror. The gargoyle guardian of passages peered at him, stony eyes unblinking from the top of the mirror. The surface of the polished glass still sparkled with lingering magic. The vampire’s face was smooth and emotionless, nearly as empty as the gargoyle’s.

  “Unfortunately, I cannot summon them to help fight a battle against enemies other than my own,” Kirill finished.

  He strode to the window, black cloak flowing behind him. One slender, long-fingered hand grasped the window ledge as he looked out, the other, as always, tucked away in his cloak. Saamal didn’t fail to notice that the vampire kept Adonis between them as the incubus joined them at the window. Apparently his attack from the previous night was not forgotten. His gratitude for the vampire’s presence despite the misunderstanding between them was only slightly tempered by the knowledge that Kirill would likely not be here at all if he didn’t believe Saamal was necessary to his future plans. Regardless, Saamal felt a tinge of hope as the vampire’s crystal blue eyes flicked from one enemy to the next.

  “Wendigos, Uktena, kanontsistonties.” Kirill squinted at something in the distance. “Is that the Death Bat?”

  Saamal hissed in dismay and looked into the distance, hoping he wouldn’t see what Kirill thought he saw. A shape hovered in the sky, almost too far away to make out. It was larger than the kanontsistonties, not merely a head, but a man’s body with giant wings not unlike Adonis’. Dread rose like bile in Saamal’s throat. Camazotz. “Yes, it is him.” Saamal shook his head, trying to rid himself of the memories that came to his mind at the mere thought of the Death Bat’s name. “I should have known he would not pass up a chance to see my time ended. Chumana would not even have needed to promise him anything. He has wanted to see me suffer for far too long.”

  Kirill’s eyes glowed red. “Interesting.”

  “What’s interesting?”

  Saamal whirled in surprise to find Patricio stepping through the mirror, his features wrinkling in annoyance as he tried to maneuver his impressive wingspan through the rather thin confines of the mirror’s frame. White feathers drifted to the stone floor and the seven-foot angel scowled.

  “Have you ever desired to fight the Death Bat?” Kirill asked him, his tone the sort that most men would use to ask if you’d ever vacationed on the islands off of Sanguenay.

  Patricio paused in the middle of stretching his right wing, cerulean eyes narrowing. “Death Bat?”

  “Camazotz,” Kirill offered.

  Patricio’s frown deepened. “Who?”

  Kirill closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Does no one do research anymore? Did any of you truly not see this coming?” He opened his eyes and looked around the room. “We’ve known Saamal for how many seasons now? Am I the only one who saw the benefit in learning something about his country, about his enemies?”

  Adonis and Patricio glanced at each other, sharing a rare moment of camaraderie. They both turned back to Kirill and shook their heads. Saamal observed Kirill with renewed interest. “You speak as though you’ve found information that may help. May I say, I am completely educated on the subject of my kingdom, and the situation seems…unfortunately grim.” His spirits sank with his last words, his brief amusement with Kirill’s thirst for information vanishing under the overwhelming shadow of the oncoming monsters.

  Kirill raised an eyebrow. “Of course.” He searched the room. “Where is Etienne?”

  “He’s out with the wolves and jaguars trying to keep people from falling into pits,” Adonis offered.

  “Cipactli has begun feeding herself then.” Kirill pressed his lips into a thin line. “We need the wolf. Can you contact your jaguars and have them return Etienne here?” Kirill asked.

  Saamal considered his request, then nodded. The wind would carry his words, and the jaguars would already be listening for him. He went to the window and called out to the large cats, pushing his will into the words and then throwing them to the wind. A few jaguars roared in the distance, their cries rising like a song, passed on until it echoed in the throats of a hundred beasts. He faced Kirill, inclining his head.

  “Excellent.” Kirill faced Patricio and gestured out the window behind him. “There is a giant horned serpent approaching the castle—Uktena. His breath is poisonous and his body all but invulnerable to mortal and immortal weapons alike—with one exception. The seventh scale from the tip of his head is weak, and it is the only point at which you might strike a successful blow. A wound in any other spot will be a minor irritation and the serpent will likely eat you before you get a chance to correct your error. Do not be fooled if it seems to turn into fire, it is an illusion only.”

  Patricio nodded solemnly, unsheathing the massive sword at his side. The metal shone with a fine blue sheen as he approached the window. Saamal opened his mouth, part of him wanting to stop him, to tell them all to go home. This wasn’t their fight, he had no right to ask them to risk their lives for him. Before he could speak, his gaze slid to Aiyana, lying still as death on her bed. He closed his mouth, remaining silent as Patricio launched himself from the window and flew toward Uktena.

  Kirill had already turned to Adonis. “The kanontsistonties can be killed if you force them to swallow burning stones. Hearthstones are particularly potent, so grab some from the fireplace. I trust you can heat them?”

  Adonis grinned and fetched a handful of stones from the grate. The large stones sat heavily in his clawed hand, held like an offering to the goddess of the home herself. As he held them, they began to glow, fiery veins of red and orange slithering over them until they were as brilliant as coals in the center of a bonfire. Adonis tilted his head, staring at his handwork for a moment. He raised his other hand and rolled his wrist, snatching something from the air. Kirill rubbed his temples as Adonis produced a cigarette and promptly pressed it between his lips and then lowered the tip to the glowing stones.

  “Just to be
clear,” the demon said, speaking around the cigarette and sending clove-scented smoke into the room. “The kanontsistonties are…?”

  “The flying heads,” Kirill muttered. “Do not try to light them on fire, they will not die, they will simply become flaming flying heads and possibly do even greater damage.”

  “Got it.” Adonis proceeded to the window, trailing smoke in his wake.

  Kirill faced the window. “I will hold back the wendigos until Etienne can arrive to help. Between our wolf prince and his lupine companions, the wendigos should not advance to the castle.”

  “And what will you do, Kirill?” Saamal studied the vampire, hoping that the growing suspicion inside him was wrong. “You don’t intend to take on Camazotz?”

  “You know as well as I do that Camazotz is a coward. As soon as he sees signs of a battle, he will halt and wait to see what the winning side will be. He wouldn’t be coming at all if he didn’t think you were alone and weak.”