by Meg Xuemei X
He followed Aida, Kian, Ziyi, and Lucienne’s guards’ memories. Pain sliced into his head. TimeDust didn’t want him focusing on an individual’s memories. It didn’t want him developing empathy or growing attached to anyone except Lucienne. It was trying to rob him of his humanity. Ashburn withstood the agony and located Lucienne through McQuillen’s memories.
She was inside Valkyrie with an injured McQuillen.
“There’s always hope, of course.” she beamed. “I haven’t had a lapse for thirteen days.”
Thirteen days? Ashburn’s heart sank. He felt the passing of only a few hours inside the Rabbit Hole. He must bear in mind that time flowed differently in the two worlds. He’d be doomed if he loitered in the Rabbit Hole too long and Lucienne’s world passed him by, and she’d become but a spark of memory.
Then his heart lightened at her improved condition.
“The poison might have run its course,” Lucienne continued, voicing Ashburn’s hope, then she stretched her hand toward Kian and stuttered, “Kian, I—”
His chest tightened as red rings formed in her eyes, claiming her.
With a renewed hatred for Blazek, Ashburn picked through the Czech’s recent memories. A vindictive smile rose to Ashburn’s lips. His opponent hadn’t had a good time either.
Blazek had left Sphinxes because he couldn’t bear to watch Lucienne miss Ashburn. Gratitude and satisfaction swelled in Ashburn’s heart as he realized that the sane Lucienne actually wanted him.
The severe pain in his head at poking into Blazek’s memories was all worth it.
Wait! What was that devil doing in Samye monastery?
Ashburn narrowed his eyes. Blazek was looking for a cure! Ashburn shook his head in disgust. If there was an antidote in Tibet, Ashburn would have been there first before anyone. Fury rose in him. The Czech was wasting time. Shouldn’t he stay at Lucienne’s side and make himself useful? Then he caught his own logical flaw. Hadn’t he wanted his rival to stay away from the girl he desired? He now realized that he loved her enough that a part of him had accepted that she also needed Blazek, at least temporarily.
Ashburn looked deeper into Blazek’s memories to collect the evidence of his rival’s idiocy and uselessness.
Blazek was in the middle of an ancient ritual that hadn’t been practiced for two thousand years. He lay nude on a stone bed made of thorn-covered vines. Amber-colored herbal water flowed from seven bamboo pipes and filled a pool until it reached him. The stream washed away the blood seeping from his back, and the tiny wounds the thorns created as they punctured his flesh absorbed the herbal ingredients into his body.
Blazek stared up at the cloudy sky. Ashburn knew this was the only time of day the Czech could come out of his dark room and see light. He was in seclusion for two weeks now, repeating the arduous ritual bath every morning.
The ancient ritual was preparing the mind and body of a healer.
Blazek was turning himself into the antidote.
CHAPTER 16
RITUAL
Through the memories of one of the seven observing monks, Ashburn watched the Czech prince strive to contain his pain, but the muscles on his jaw twitched and twisted. Blazek was playing Lucienne’s image in his head—her beaming at him and bantering with him—to expel his agony. Annoyingly, he replayed a romantic fencing scene with Lucienne several months ago, over and over, relishing every detail.
Lucienne parried Blazek. They matched in every way, their sabers crashing in perfect arcs.
“We know each other’s weaknesses and strengths too well,” he sighed. “We can go on like this forever until one lies down.”
“Then you lie down, pretty boy,” she purred with a husky voice, gazing at him through her thick lashes. Her rich, brown eyes became expressive, turning all honey and wine, and only for him.
He appeared smitten. Seizing the advantage, she struck. The tip of her saber found an opening in his heart, but before she could claim victory, he’d moved, of course, with his usual, incredible speed. The opening was a feint. In the next heartbeat, he disarmed her, holding her saber in his hand. “The Lam lioness always knows how to take advantage of her opponent’s weakness. I fell once, but never twice.”
Their faces were inches apart, and she pulled back and punched him. He threw up his hand to cover his eye, stunned. She kicked the saber out of his hand, caught it, and tossed it to the ground with her gloves. She swung her long leg toward him. “But I hoped you’d always fall,” she said. “Maybe it’s just a silly girl’s fantasy.”
He turned his palm vertically and blocked her vicious kick. “I’ll fall for you a thousand times, if that’s what you want. And I’m still falling for you, but does it matter to you? You’re not here anymore.”
“I’m here.”
“Your body is here.”
“And what isn’t?”
“Your heart.”
“How can you assume where my heart stays, or where it belongs?” Furious, she tried to slap him.
He caught her wrist, and she tripped him. He dragged her down with him. She fell on top of him, but he moved his hips to pin her under him. She maneuvered her hips and legs, countering his moves and fighting to stay on top. At last, she straddled him after he let her.
Ashburn gritted his teeth. This scene was intolerable! The Czech distorted the reality to make it fit into his bad taste. Containing his temper, Ashburn kept riffling through the rest of Blazek’s memories.
“I saw how you looked at Ashburn Fury,” the Czech prince said, his eyes spitting sparks of dark fire. “All I wanted was to strangle the life out of him with my bare hands!”
“And I want to snuff out your miserable, useless, harmful life,” Ashburn shot back, even though his opponent couldn’t hear him.
“Ashburn’s my asset, just like the Eye of Time. That’s all,” Lucienne said.
That hurt. Ashburn shut his eyes. Even though he knew she hadn’t meant it, hearing it from her mouth, even through Blazek’s memories, still cut him deeply. Ashburn was openly cursing the Czech as he watched his rival move on top of Lucienne, thick desire filling his hazel, animal-like eyes.
The Czech felt Lucienne’s every curve and savored them frame by frame.
Blazek gazed into Lucienne’s wine-colored eyes that burned with fire and desire. She wrapped her legs around his thighs. Her fingers moved underneath his clothes, tracing the hard lines on his firm abdomen and then further down ....
Ashburn spat in fury. The Czech was now mixing reality with fantasy. He was fantasizing about exploring Lucienne’s body. Could anyone be more despicable than that? If Blazek were in front of him, Ashburn would surely deliver a punch and knock out a tooth before throwing a black lightning bolt at the Czech.
On the thorn bed, Blazek murmured, “I’d rather die than lose you.”
And in the Czech’s mind, Lucienne thumbed his Z-shaped scar above his left eyebrow. He got it from a forbidden kiss two years ago. Lucienne’s lips dropped him from his black horse in the Red Mansion’s forest.
Lucienne could kiss no man except Ashburn.
Yet Blazek and Lucienne both challenged fate.
“You’re mine, Vladimir Blazek,” she said.
“Yours forever,” Blazek answered on the thorn bed.
Then Lucienne screamed. Blood tears streamed down her lovely face.
Ashburn had to stumble back, even though it was only a memory in Blazek’s mind.
His rival was now using Lucienne’s suffering to punish himself and enhance his will to finish the ritual because all he wanted was to return to Lucienne. Physical and emotional pain filled his mind, leaving no room for anything else.
The monastery’s bell finally chimed an hour’s time.
The seven monks stepped toward the throne bed and chanted. After the recitation, they retreated into the shadows, leaving the prince to his own device.
Blazek struggled off the thorn bed with an anguished yell and threw himself into the pool. He repeatedly gasped for air as he r
ose from the pink water, finally limping off without a word. He’d be in isolation for the rest of the day.
Through a monk’s eyes, Ashburn saw the Czech’s bloody back. Fresh wounds lay atop old ones. Blazek was notoriously vain, and now his back was completely ruined.
Ashburn left Vladimir’s world. Watching his rival’s ordeal hadn’t given him any gratification; instead, it drained him and made him even more sullen. Ashburn shut himself inside the outdoor elevator on the rooftop of the Ghost House and slumped against the cold glass.
He stared ahead at the ring of distant white mountains.
What wouldn’t they do for the girl they loved? Would Ashburn go through the same pain for her? Without a doubt. But he couldn’t be her healer.
Whenever he touched her, he wanted more of her. The Lure enhanced his darkest lust, and the insane Lucienne was an irresistible seductress. One day it would strip off his self-control. If they slept with each other before they were ready, the consequence would be dire. Seraphen had said that their union would bring the apocalypse. Ashburn didn’t know exactly how and why, but his instincts agreed with Seraphen. And Lucienne would never forgive him if he took her virtue in her insanity.
Despite the drawbacks and the luring danger for them both, he’d tried to heal her in the beginning. He’d managed to push back the churning poison in her veins, but her madness always returned. It was an undying leech clinging to her. So unless her condition was severe, he had to stand by and watch her take hits after hits.
Ashburn lifted his gaze from the mountains that encased Nirvana. It was time to gather all the information he could regarding the ancient ritual. His databank opened a window—
The ritual had once made an effective healer five thousand years ago. However, there was no assurance the healing would work on Lucienne. Even if Blazek could dilute the poison in her, he couldn’t flush it out completely. Without the ultimate cure, she’d still fade away like the last flame of a burning candle. However, Blazek could buy Lucienne time, and that was what Ashburn needed. If no antidote existed, he was going to create one.
But how?
He returned to the Rabbit Hole and wandered through the vast space like a lost soul before he stumbled onto something and almost fell on his face.
The silhouette of Seraphen’s body glowed faintly.
After Lucienne and her warriors had retreated from the Nirvana valley after the battle, Ashburn had brought Seraphen back to the Rabbit Hole, letting this plane be his resting place. Because she owed her life to Ashburn, Lucienne hadn’t insisted on taking Seraphen to Sphinxes for an autopsy, despite her scientists’ zealous requests.
Seraphen’s body didn’t decay like a mortal's. Ashburn’s eyes darted to the gaping hole in the man’s chest, then quickly looked away. The wound reminded Ashburn how he’d helped Lucienne kill his own protector.
If Seraphen were alive, he’d have information on the cure. Ashburn once suspected that Seraphen was the one who gave the ancient poison to the first Sealer, but that Sealer founder insisted a female angel granted him Blood Tear. However, her image was a shrouded memory as soon as it formed in that human’s mind.
If only Seraphen were alive—
An idea struck Ashburn like lightning. What if he could bring Seraphen back to life?
Seraphen wasn’t exactly human, so resurrection wasn’t completely impossible. But if Ashburn succeeded, Seraphen would pose a deadly threat to Lucienne again. His protector had been programmed to kill Lucienne and would never rest until he achieved that goal.
Lucienne was running out of time, and Ashburn was running out of option.
Ashburn sank beside Seraphen.
CHAPTER 17
THE SHIELD
Lucienne read the Bible to Finley.
Sphinxes’ team had brought back their dead and wounded from Greece. Finley, a Catholic, had been in a coma since then, hooked up to life-support tubes.
“You’re a hero, Finley,” Lucienne said, putting the book down on the bedside table. “Sphinxes needs more heroes. Your new mission is to fight on and come back to us.” She waited for a minute. There was no reaction from the unconscious soldier.
“We won’t give up on you,” she squeezed his rough hand, “so you won’t be able to give up either. We’ll be right here when you wake up.” She rose as nurse Mary came in to check on the patient.
“Lucia,” the nurse said, “Chief McQuillen checked out. He hasn’t even half recovered. He threatened us when we tried to stop him.”
“Assign a medical professional as one of his aides to keep him in line.” Lucienne sighed. “Do you think Matthew is up the job? I'll give him a raise and an extra week of vacation days.”
“Matt might not take the offer,” Mary said.
Lucienne nodded an understanding as she headed toward the door. “Chief McQuillen is the worst patient in history, but I’ll talk to Matthew.”
“Lucia,” Mary called after her, “your routine physical check was due two days ago. Dr. Wren—”
“Tell him I’m fine.” Lucienne exited.
Mary murmured something about pot calling the kettle black.
Lucienne trekked down the hallway of the hospital in the castle. Her guards trailed after her. Rounding a corner, she headed toward a rehabilitation room where dozens of her wounded marines stayed. A girl’s silvery, musical voice rang distinctly amid rumbles of laughter from the usually quiet room.
Vladimir used to say that Lucienne’s laughter was the loveliest sound in the world, but he’d been mistaken.
Lucienne halted in the doorway. Her men had never laughed this heartily in her presence. She considered falling back, not wanting to disturb her soldiers, who were obviously enjoying themselves, but a couple of them had spied her. Their chortle turned to coughing. The marines rose immediately and snapped to attention, despite their injuries.
“At ease,” Lucienne said. “I swung by to see how you’re all doing.”
All of them stood tall and straight and saluted her. Lucienne sighed inwardly and wistfully. She couldn’t crack up with her regular soldiers, but she’d never felt such a gap with them. She felt like an intruder in front of her own people.
“I said at ease,” she repeated.
The marines murmured their thanks with revered expressions. Many of them were new and were not accustomed to the Siren’s visits. Lucienne’s eyes landed on the two nurses in the room. They were the ones entertaining her soldiers. The lovely laughter must have come from one of them. Lucienne thought she knew all the nurses. Were these two new?
Bayrose lifted her head—she’d just finished changing bandages for a blond-haired soldier—and turned to Lucienne. Violent, Ashburn’s redheaded friend from Nirvana, put away a bottle of medicinal alcohol with a bang, not sparing Lucienne a glance.
Both girls looked adorable in white nurse’s uniforms. Lucienne caught more than a few admiring glances toward the girls from the men.
Bayrose bowed to Lucienne and greeted her, “Siren.”
Having returned to Sphinxes for a week, Lucienne hadn’t arranged a meeting with Bayrose and Violet. Her first concern was her own unhinged mental condition. The second was Vladimir and Ashburn. She wasn’t sure if the girls had moved on. What was she going to tell them about either man should they ask? Either one could have a life with either girl, but Lucienne had strung both men along. And now they’d all left because of her.
“Call me Lucienne,” she told Bayrose. “And you don’t need to bow to me. No one does here.”
“I want to show my respect,” Bayrose said.
Violet, on the other hand, gave Lucienne a scathing glare.
“Are the accommodations here acceptable?” Lucienne asked.
Violet sneered, “Like you care!”
No one but her enemies showed such disrespect toward Lucienne. The soldiers turned unnervingly quiet, and the guards behind Lucienne tensed up.
Bayrose elbowed Violet’s waist. “Please, Violet,” she whispered. “Don’t do th
is.”
“I do care,” Lucienne said. “You’re Ash’s friend, and I promised him to take care of you when you come to Sphinxes. As for Miss Thorn, I’m forever grateful for what she risked for my chief. Making you both comfortable in my home is the least I can do. So do tell me if anything isn’t up to your standards, and I’ll make an improvement.”
“Where is Ash?” asked Violet. “Why can’t anyone answer that simple question? Are you hiding him from me?”
Thaddeus growled behind Lucienne, but she held up a hand to stop him from either insulting Violet or advancing on her. “No one knows exactly where Ash is at the moment,” she said. “He left Sphinxes three weeks ago. As my honored guest, like you, he’s free to come and go.”
“Then you must have driven him away,” Violet said.
Pain slapped Lucienne in the face. The truth hurts every time, no matter how it’s delivered.
“Violet,” Bayrose chided her friend again, “please don’t be rude. We must be grateful we have such a nice place to stay.”
“Your mansion is much nicer,” Violet said. “I don’t understand why you gave it up to come here!”
“Things have changed,” Bayrose said softly. “I was trapped in a gilded cage. Now we have a chance to build a new life. The Siren didn’t need to take us in, but she did. Her people are good to us. We should be grateful and earn our keep.”
“You’ve earned your keep—” Lucienne said, then frowned at Violet for overstepping her bounds.
“How can you say that, Bayrose?” Violet demanded. “Hasn’t she done enough to you? Have you forgotten how she took your boyfriend and killed your father?”
Bayrose’s face dimmed and a hard edge appeared on her soft face. Lucienne sensed a high temper underneath the girl’s suppressed feelings. “There are casualties in war,” Bayrose said. “My father initiated the conflict, and so he brought this on himself. He also caused great harm to the Siren. I can never repay her for what he did, but I’m also a victim. Thanks to Chief McQuillen and the Siren, I’ve escaped a doomed life.”