Blood Revolution (God Wars, #3)

by Suttle, Connie

  "What are we going to do?" I moaned. If Hank hadn't jumped the Sirenali, he might have placed obsession before I bothered to lower my shield and read him. I'd have to lower my shields and go back to reading everybody, as much as I hated doing that. I shuddered at the thought of it.

  "Baby?" Hank set a sandwich in front of Winkler and walked around the kitchen island to get to me.

  "I'll have to read everybody from now on," I hid my face in shaking hands.

  "No," he pulled my head against his chest and rubbed my back gently. "Just for a little while, I think. We'll get through this."

  "I sure hope you're right," I said.

  * * *

  Hank took Bill to his meeting, with Jayson, Winkler and Opal going along as bodyguards. At least I knew Hank would recognize a Sirenali if he saw one, and knew what to do to keep him from talking to lay an obsession.

  Charles and Trajan stayed to guard me, Kathleen and Weldon, so Trace and Jimmy could get some sleep. They'd have to rise during the night and take over guard duty for the rest of us.

  "You need to sleep," Charles said. He'd herded me into the bedroom I shared with Hank, and settled in beside me so I could lean against him.

  "Yeah. I feel tired and wound up at the same time."

  "I hate that," he leaned in to kiss me. "Close your eyes. I'm right here."

  * * *

  "Asleep?" Gavin asked as Charles closed the bedroom door softly behind him.

  "Yes. Finally."

  "Shall we discuss what happened today while I slept?"

  "Of course."

  * * *

  "Thorsten?" Kiarra looked up from her tablet—she'd been keeping up with current news on the church bombings that way. Fresno was hot this time of year and she really wasn't in the mood for an unannounced visit from Thorsten.

  "What is this I hear about Saxom's return? I thought Adam killed him. Yet you did not see fit to inform me of this?"

  "Thorsten, we think it may be a prank, but I'll admit, I can't find anything by Looking, and you understand how unusual that is."

  "Where did you get this information?"

  "From the Vampire Council. It came from a U.S. security agency before that. They found a suspicious vehicle, with the license plate registered to Saxom Meletius."

  "Then it likely is a prank," Thorsten muttered. "Although it does seem suspicious that the name was available. Was other information gathered?"

  "They found nothing. The records have been wiped, if they ever existed at all."

  "Highly irregular. Perhaps I will investigate this myself."

  "Go ahead," Kiarra shrugged.

  "You merely tolerate me, don't you?" Thorsten's voice was cold.

  "I think you are a little too involved with some things," Kiarra said.

  "By that you mean?"

  "That it's your job to supervise," she said. "You are to report to your superior if you find wrongdoing."

  "It is not my job, as you describe it, to hand out punishment?"

  "That's what I was told. That you would monitor our work and report to those above you. A decision would be made at that level."

  "You're accusing me of interfering?"

  "I never said that," Kiarra closed the cover on her tablet with a sigh. "I'm sorry. I'm just upset that all these murders have happened, and we can't do anything about it."

  "It would be interference," Thorsten replied haughtily.

  "Exactly," Kiarra replied. She watched as Thorsten disappeared. "Exactly," she repeated to the empty space he'd occupied.

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  "Now what?" I stared at the television in disgust. The new church built near Winkler's house between Dallas and Denton was advertising.

  "You're safe here," the paid actor announced. The commercial had been filmed in the church's parking lot, as the actor waved a hand grandly toward the huge, modern building. "We built this to be fireproof, and we'll have armed guards stationed everywhere, to protect you while you pray to the true God."

  The commercial cut to the huge, LED sign that flashed The Church of the True God, interspersed with images of people singing and a Christian rock band playing. "Come on in Wednesday night for our grand opening, and get treated to great music. Bring your friends, too! We guarantee you'll be safe while you worship with us."

  "Well, that's timely," Winkler said sarcastically. "No time like the present to take advantage of frightened people and pull them away from their regular churches."

  "How many do you think that place might hold?" Bill frowned at the screen.

  "Probably several thousand, easy," Weldon observed.

  "There's a new development, too," Bill announced.

  "What's that?"

  "There have been disappearances in the homeless population around Dallas," he said. "No idea if those disappearances are connected with the ones we're hunting, but there it is. I just got this through the Dallas office. It's not our problem—locals are supposed to take care of it, but it finally got severe enough that they asked us if we knew anything."

  "Any bodies?" Winkler asked, walking over to read the message Bill received on his cellphone.

  "None yet," Bill said. "But we know there are chimeras out there that might be hungry after a long night of work, destroying churches."

  "So there wouldn't be any bodies," I said, shaking my head. "Is there a particular place they're disappearing? How many are missing?"

  "There's no good way to tell," Bill said, tapping a message on his cell. "I'm asking the department to search for more people missing across the country. It may not be exclusive to the Dallas area."

  "There's a scary thought," Winkler said.

  "It makes sense—we already know they've been transported from one place to another—quickly and easily," Hank pointed out.

  "Yep," Bill nodded after getting an answer to his question. "They're disappearing in New York, San Francisco, Chicago and Atlanta, and that's just a preliminary report."

  "So the major metropolitan areas are getting hit," Winkler frowned. "Where the homeless populations are larger."

  "Like a buffet," Charles said. "I've heard of rogue vamps hitting the same areas in the past—nobody notices if a homeless person comes up missing now and then."

  "And we know they have vampires, too," Gavin said. Well, he and Charles had discussed this. They would—vampire rogues were Gavin's business, after all.

  "Want to go take a look at some of the hangouts?" Bill asked.

  "As long as they don't blow up around us," I agreed.

  "Locals have taken to patrolling the area—haven't seen anything like that yet," Bill said. "If you're ready?"

  "Yeah. Let's go."

  * * *

  Thorsten settled on the driveway of a burned house in San Rafael. This was the last known location for the vehicle registered to Saxom Meletius. Why it had traveled from the Dallas area to the San Francisco area puzzled him, but there were many things that puzzled him about this.

  Kiarra had Looked, she'd said. He merely believed this beneath her abilities. He couldn't reach the underlying cause or any other information associated with this. That angered him greatly. Griffin was the most adept of the Saa Thalarr at Looking, although he was now retired. It didn't matter—Thorsten wouldn't ask Griffin for assistance if he were the last possible resort. They'd been enemies too long for that to happen.

  The day he'd convinced Belen to demote Griffin to Third and place Kiarra as First was the finest day in his tenure as supervisor for the Saa Thalarr. He'd gone looking for other ways to make Griffin suffer throughout their long association, too. He'd found a few things that he'd never carried to his supervisor.

  "It doesn't matter, this is a dead end," Thorsten muttered, gazing at the burned ruin before him. He prepared to fold away when something powerful sucked him into a vortex from which he couldn't escape. He screamed a mental plea for help before his voice was shielded and silenced in mid-shout.

  * * *

  Lissa
's Journal

  Time is an ephemeral thing to the most powerful. They see it as a road that leads in both directions, and they stand at the center, looking at it both ways. That's how the news came to Belen, from those far above him. They'd seen Thorsten being taken, because someone was watching.

  "They didn't know of my abduction before, because I didn't have time to call out," Belen said. "Thorsten did call out, and he was heard. He has been taken in the past, Lissa, and this could prove more dangerous than anyone might imagine."

  "How's that?" I blinked at him. Thorsten was a low-level member of the Powers That Be. When he'd been taken, he'd still been supervisor for the Saa Thalarr. He'd screwed up my life, that was certain, but he was Thurlow, now, and one of my mates.

  Of course I was worried, but things would turn out, right? I mean, he had other things to do and then would be sent back to the beginning, to learn his lessons and start over—with me.

  "At the time he was taken, he was still missing vital information. If they strip him of what he knows, however, he could become very dangerous—to your sister."

  "What are you talking about?" I stared at Belen in alarm.

  "We must visit Thurlow where he is now. Let us hope he does not disappear."

  "But," my word was whispered. If he disappeared, that would mean, "Oh, no," I said. "No, no, no, Belen. No."

  "If he is turned rogue or tormented enough to do the unthinkable," Belen muttered grimly. "Come. We will speak with your mate."

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  Reading the homeless in Dallas was heartbreaking. None of them recalled seeing anything, however, so the ones taken had been abducted by stealth. "There is vampire scent here," Gavin stated, standing next to a pitiful pile of clothing that the others hadn't thought to take as yet.

  "Fresh?" Winkler came to sniff, too.

  "No. I'd say two days, perhaps."

  "I agree," Winkler's nose was as good as Gavin's.

  "At least there's no scent of a chimera," I said, rubbing Bill's back absently.

  "Breanne, I'll give you exactly one hour to stop that," Bill grinned.

  "I can do your shoulders when we get back," I offered. Bill's muscles were tight, and I knew they had to ache from stress and tension.

  "I'll take you up on that," he said.

  * * *

  Lissa's Journal

  "Thurlow?" I stared at him in shock. He'd known that Breanne was my sister, and he'd purposely stayed away from her when she'd been brought to Le-Ath Veronis. He'd allowed her to be abused, when he knew it was happening. All because he didn't want to be found out or called to task or be what he was now—a prisoner at SouthStar.

  "I have new memories, Lissa," he wept. "They're torturing me."

  "Where the hell did they take you?" I demanded.

  "No!" he cried out. "No! Griffin. Griffin," he fell to his knees. They were tearing at his corporeal body; I could feel it. Belen had never developed corporeality, and only took on the similarity of it from time to time. That's why torture would have been worthless with him. With Thorsten, it was a different story.

  "They've gotten a name," Belen snapped. "Where, Thurlow? Where are you?"

  "Earth," he began to disappear. Images filtered into Belen's and my mind as he faded away completely.

  "Fuck," I yelled before bending time and folding space.

  * * *

  Griffin lounged on the patio of Merrill's home in Kent, sipping tea and studying the lists of vintage wines offered at an auction. He and Merrill would go together, and he would begin the bidding on the best bottles, after which Merrill would take over and eventually make the purchase.

  Griffin couldn't come out and tell Merrill which wines to buy, or which stocks to purchase, but he could buy for himself and leave information out for Merrill to find. Merrill had benefited greatly from his friendship with Griffin. It assuaged Griffin's guilt over other things.

  "Griffin?" Amara walked out of the house. "Merrill's here."

  "Good," Griffin smiled at his mate and rose. Amara screamed when Griffin was torn away with a shout.

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  I knew. Yes, I knew. Would I have done what I did, if I didn't know it would change so much? I don't have an answer for that. Might never have an answer for that. Hank, Bill, Trajan and Jayson shouted my name the moment I disappeared.

  By the time I folded to The Church of the True God, Acrimus had already broken Thorsten and killed my father.

  "Here's the daughter," Acrimus observed maliciously. Could I read him? Oh, yes. He thought I was a powerful child of the first member of the Saa Thalarr. How thankful was I for that—that this was all he thought he knew? He intended to kill me for it, regardless.

  "You shouldn't have come—I'd have let you live," Acrimus meant to smile—it was the most awkward grimace instead. "I like twisted victims," he added. Someday, I intended to slap James Rome, Sr. and Ross Gideon into a wall for that stupid fucking book. If I survived the next few minutes, that is.

  I couldn't waste time—Acrimus was prepared for a throw-down, and I had to change a few things, first. Giving Acrimus, who'd once been one of the Ko'Ahmari, a real smile, I turned on the brightest light I could and Changed What Was.

  Chapter 18

  Breanne's Journal

  Griffin coughed and struggled to his feet while I stood guard over his body. Thorsten, surprised to be whole and free again, wasted no time folding space to get away. Well, a lot of people wouldn't have stayed, either. I wasn't sure I could blame him—I'd been tortured enough in the past to know that I'd have escaped if given the chance.

  "Who?" Griffin was on his feet now.

  "No time for that," I said through gritted teeth. Acrimus knew, now. Knew not only who I was, but what I was. I'd done the impossible and brought two powerful beings back to life.

  I wasn't sure all the Larentii Wise Ones could have done one of those things, let alone two. Without explanation, I pulled Griffin into a slingshot of power and flung him as far away as I could.

  Acrimus was beneath me in power, although he was more than powerful. So many things I understood about him as he sized me up. Too bad the Mighty Mind wasn't with me at that moment; he'd have advised me to do away with Acrimus immediately. Instead, I waited for him to make the first move.

  Big mistake.

  Yes, all sorts of information bubbled into my brain. Acrimus was aptly named. He was bitter. Angry that he wasn't better known or loved by all. He it was who'd breathed the beginnings of Solar Red and many other, angry, abusive and destructive religions into so many mortal minds. He'd nurtured them. Fed them until they'd turned as harmful as it was possible to turn.

  Perhaps it was a good thing that I didn't have enough time, then, to set up a gate to the proper timeline and attempt to shove Acrimus through it, because HE came.

  Glowing with a malevolent purple light, he appeared between me and Acrimus. Was he interested in saving Acrimus from me?

  No.

  He had no care for Acrimus, which was completely ironic.

  What did he want?

  Everything.

  Just as Hank said.

  "Well, well," he said, and the floor rumbled and shook with his voice. Acrimus cringed. Ironic, indeed.

  Here was the one who directed rogue gods. Who accepted their worship and controlled their deeds. He'd promised them everything, if they gained it first and then handed it to him.

  He was called many things. The General was the least offensive of his titles. To me, anyway. I certainly wasn't going to say any of the titles he preferred. He'd done nothing to earn any of them.

  "Acrimus, you unfathomable difik," I hissed as the General struck his first blow.

  * * *

  Lissa's Journal

  "Where is she?" I shouted at so many people, some of whom I recognized, some I didn't.

  "What the hell?" Weldon Harper was the one to find his voice first. They all thought me dead. They were learn
ing differently, at least for the moment.

  I didn't have time to dwell on the lack of recognition in Gavin's eyes. Somebody else would have to fix this after the fact—I had to find my sister.

  "Griffin and Thorsten have escaped," Belen appeared at my side, shining so brightly those around me covered their eyes. Except for one.

  Dark-haired, black-eyed and wearing the beauty of a god, he stood, unblinking, and took us in. Something strange happened, then. Belen went to a knee and bowed his head. "Command me," he said.

  "There's no time for that—what do you know?" the dark-haired man shouted.

  "Wait," I held up a hand and sent mindspeech to Thurlow. Like a miracle, he answered.

  The Church of the True God, he replied, urgency in his mental voice. Directions were given as well, which were passed to Belen. Somehow, the dark-haired man pulled those words and images straight from me as they flowed between my mind and Belen's.

  Come, he said and hurled us toward our target. I heard the call he sent out, too. To the Mighty Hand and the Mighty Mind. Would we arrive in time? There wasn't any way I could fight what we might face. Belen, too, held insufficient power. My sister could be dying, and none of us might stop it.

  * * *

  Breanne's Journal

  Did he think I hadn't been beaten before? That I hadn't stood again every time, my body refusing to die when it should have—for so many years?

  Blood blurred my vision as he landed another powerful punch to my chest. No, he didn't touch my body directly—he settled for sending power in my direction, which manifested in blows I couldn't return.

  I'd tried to walk forward at first, and was knocked back too many times.

  Then I attempted to hold my ground. Foolish, I know. I was thrown back, time and again.

  After that, I struggled to stand, and the blows landed until I was knocked to my knees. He laughed exultantly when that happened. "Where are the others?" he crowed. "Did they send you to challenge me? This is so easy," he carelessly landed another blow to my head. I felt my jaw break as he prepared another strike.

  "Avilepha!" Hank's voice—from nearby. What was he doing here? He needed to be far, far away from this. I wasn't sure all of us together—the Three—could take down this monster. He'd grown too powerful and continued to gain power. Hank had no chance against this.