Encore (Descendants of Ra: Book 4)

by Tmonique Stephens

  Six blades later, she was slipping and sliding on the back of a motorcycle, bouncing over rough terrain in the backwoods of the Catskill Mountains. They tried it her way, but the minute she kicked into overdrive, EJ lost the signal on the Harvester.

  The bike hit a rut, went airborne, and Ridley clutched EJ tight. Her face burrowed into the space between his shoulder blades. His broad back sheltered her, and though cold, the leather was soft. Close to two hours later, the bike slowed, and EJ stopped by an outcropping of granite. Snow fell in lazy flakes big enough for the naked eye to discern each intricate pattern. Soon everything would be white. She shivered and blew warm air into her fisted hands. Her red duster wasn’t made for warmth. A slave to the color and the weapons hidden in the custom lining, she refused to switch to the parka EJ offered before they left the cabin. Besides, with the speed, she never felt the cold. She hadn’t factored in spending hours on the back of a bike in December.

  “Are we here?” She swung her leg off the bike, muscles protesting with every movement. It had been a lifetime since she spent time on the back of Nick’s 1990 Triumph.

  “No. Another two miles that way on RockGate property.” He pointed through the trees and then retrieved his cell phone.

  “Who are you calling?”

  “Quin. Letting him know Daniel is on the property. But I don’t have a signal.” He shoved the cell back into his pocket.

  “You know where they are?” She couldn’t hide her excitement.

  “Yeah...”

  She waited for him to finish his sentence.

  “Not telling you so you can leave me in the cold. I’m on to you, girl.” He started running.

  Ridley stood there, pissed to hell and back, watching him vanish in the thickening snowstorm, the shadow of a grin on her lips. He was more than on to her. He was in her skin and tunneling deeper every second. She caught up and ran beside him. More like a jog for her. Aside from where they were going, what they were about to face…it was nice having a partner.

  Her watch buzzed. Midnight had come. One day down, another day begun. She stumbled. EJ caught her before she righted herself.

  “You all right?’ he whispered. They were close to Alamut.

  She gave a quick nod and pushed away. Now, wasn’t the time to wallow when salvation was at hand. They’d get the Harvester and end the curse. Josie would have the life she was meant to, and whatever life had to offer Ridley, she’d take it.

  They walked for a few hundred yards then crawled through the snow-slickened ground. The earth rumbled, paused, and did it again.

  “Something’s wrong,” she mouthed.

  “What gave it away?” EJ snickered.

  This wasn’t a game, and she found no humor in this situation. And since he did, maybe she should just leave him—

  A quimaera whizzed past their hiding place and landed a few feet away, neck at an unnatural angle, broken bones protruding from his arms.

  “Where the hell did he come from?” And what the hell did that to it?

  EJ ignored her and pointed. “There’s a cave system up here. Came upon it once when I was I kid camping. Big cave.”

  “Big enough to hold an army.”

  Pensive, EJ shook his head. “About fifty could live in it. Double that could squeeze in stacked shoulder to shoulder.”

  Fifty to one hundred. Big fucking difference.

  The ground heaved, lifted them half a foot off the ground. Gravity brought them back to Earth with a bone-rattling smack.

  “This shit ain’t normal.” EJ scanned the area and climbed cautiously to his feet.

  Another quimaera whizzed by on the left. On the right, one careened into a trunk and toppled the tree. Ridley grabbed EJ and darted out of the way.

  “Follow me,” he said before the tree settled and quiet returned. He took off through the trees, backtracking the quimaera. The crunch of his footsteps mixed with the growing chorus of grunts, fists meeting flesh, growls.

  The trees thinned to a clearing…and a battle. That’s not what faltered Ridley’s steps. “What—who is that?” A chill that had nothing to do the temperature snaked down her spine. She pointed at the creature flinging quimaera out of its way without the slightest of effort. Its movements erotic yet precise. Deadly. And non-human. Until the being turned and gave them her profile.

  A female. At least she seemed female. Moonlight flickered between the naked trees and danced over her pasty features. But from the neck down…crimson. Not the bright variation of the color Ridley favored, but the darkest red, red spilled from a deep vein depleted of oxygen. Blood and night clung to her every nuance. However, Ridley suspected the blood didn’t come from the dozen or more eviscerated quimaera lying at her feet.

  As the woman moved, she flowed as a wave rolling to shore and left a smear of crimson on the snowy ground behind her. Even so, it was her hair that truly shocked Ridley. Blood, wine colored in the thin moonlight, oozed from the blunt ends, framed the woman’s heart-shaped face and fiery eyes.

  The viscous fluid poured down her face and body. It wasn’t hers. No quimaera had a chance to touch her. She cut through the herd with more grace than a prima ballerina on stage at Lincoln Center. Her butchery was art on a masterful, horrific scale.

  Ridley froze. Her heart leaden, her muscles lax from fright. “What is she?”

  Light flared off to the right, momentarily blinding her and snapping her shock. When it faded, she spotted EJ barreling toward Alamut and another quimaera near a vortex, the Harvester in Alamut’s hand, while a contingent of quimaera kept his new adversary occupied. Alamut saw EJ. Ridley couldn’t tell if the son of a bitch was surprised or eager. The grin on its face never changed, though he repositioned himself to take EJ on before escaping through the vortex.

  Ridley sped past EJ, grabbed the Harvester out of Alamut’s hand, and balled her fist. With her momentum, the punch lifted Alamut off his feet, and knocked him and his pet into the vortex. Alamut’s outrage ended with the vortex winking closed.

  I have it. I have the Harvester. The dagger was cold in her hand. She gripped the hilt until the embedded jewels dug into her palm. The solid gold blade had an unnatural internal glow, but it felt dead in her hand. Anu’Ras vibrated with latent power, yet the Harvester seemed nothing more than an exquisite piece of art.

  “Give me the anu’Ra,” the woman said with a heavy accent Ridley couldn’t place. The being’s lips stretched into a smile crowded with way too many teeth. Sharp teeth. Serrated claws extended from her hands. She floated over the dead quimaera, her vis’Ra a palpable entity. This was no demi-god they faced. This woman was a full-fledged deity on a mission to kill anything, anyone in her way.

  Right now, that meant EJ and Ridley.

  The firing of a gun inches away snapped Ridley out of her trance. EJ shoved her behind him. Bullets peppered the woman. She didn’t jerk or flinch from the assault. She absorbed the bullets into her body like pebbles tossed into a lake. EJ’s clip empty, he reached into his pocket for another.

  “What do you want with it?” Ridley stalled. She pocketed the Harvester and gathered her knives.

  “I will use it for its true purpose.”

  EJ circled the deity when all Ridley wanted him to do was stay put. Once she threw her knives, they’d immobilize the goddess and then they could easily escape.

  “What’s its true purpose?” Ridley had two blades in her hands and quick access to two more. She had to know. The answer might be vital to her breaking the curse.

  “The answer is useless to the dead.” The woman’s hands extended, swirling energy coalesced in the center of her palms.

  “Who are you? Give me your name so we may worship you,” Ridley shouted.

  “I am Sakhmet. The Destroyer. The Lion of Ra.” Pride filled her voice.

  Okay. New player on the chessboard. “We could be allies. Disciples.” She racked her brain. What would a homicidal, crazy goddess want? “We could worship you.” Ridley kept track of EJ.

&nbs
p; “No allies. No disciples. I am the Destroyer.” Sakhmet rose in the air and hurled the energy collected in her palms. Ridley threw her knives, all four, aimed them straight for the bitch’s heart. They landed with unerring accuracy and embedded deep in vital areas: lungs, abdomen, and heart. Being a full god, they wouldn’t kill Sakhmet; however, they should seriously slow her ass down.

  One by one, Sakhmet plucked the knives from her flesh without even a grunt. Damascus steel should’ve at least made her knees wobble, possibly make her rethink her strategy. Nope. All that special steel meant nothing. Holy shit! What is that thing?

  EJ emptied his gun again and ran toward Sakhmet. “Go, Ridley.”

  Sakhmet’s energy blasted toward EJ. He was about to evaporate before her eyes. Ridley threw herself in the path of the blast and wrapped her arms around him. She held on with all her might. The blast may shred her, but the curse wouldn’t let her die. She would heal. EJ, on the other hand...he wouldn’t survive. She would not let that happen. His arms closed around her, and at the last second, he spun, exposing his unprotected back to the blast. He mumbled something, but his words were lost in the scream erupting from her soul, and the ensuing blinding light streaking toward them.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The South. To be fair, Atlanta didn’t feel like the South anymore. Modern Atlanta felt like the sixth borough of New York City. Lord knows there were enough transplants. Manhattan, Staten Island, Queens, Brooklyn, The Bronx, and Atlanta. One could argue about Fort Lee, New Jersey, the first stop over the George Washington Bridge, being the sixth borough, but no New Yorker would ever claim that shit.

  That’s all Thane and Avery argued about before stepping through the vortex that deposited the crew in downtown Atlanta. A cold wind, a few degrees warmer than New York City, howled down the empty canyons.

  “This is downtown? You could fit twelve of these into Manhattan.”

  It was good to hear Avery joke, chuckle even. Roman didn’t fool himself to think it would last long. If the meeting wasn’t so critical, he wouldn’t have included Avery. His new powers coupled with a broken heart and a missing EJ didn’t mix well. Avery was a storm cell, waiting for the right moment to turn into a tornado.

  But Avery was also a full-fledged god now. The only one they had on their side, that is until Tyrone found his way back home.

  “That’s where we’re heading?” Thane pointed to the glass and steel high rise dominating the landscape.

  Instead of answering, Roman took the lead.

  “Tighten up,” Avery said, all levity gone from his voice. Code for shut the hell up and pay attention. Reign didn’t need the instruction. He hadn’t said a word since he kissed Alexis goodnight. She wasn’t happy to be left behind with the women and children. Her words. Quin stayed behind to help guard said women and children, though that didn’t appease her much. Stella demanded to know where they were going. So Roman told her. They were off to find allies.

  “Why do we need allies?” Stella tried to hide the worry on her face and failed.

  There was a time when he would’ve shielded her from any and everything that would’ve brought a drop of unhappiness. The woman he married wasn’t the wounded flower he found clinging to life in a hospital bed. Steel flowed through her veins. He doubted there was anything she couldn’t face and conquer. “Because the family is in danger.”

  Roman glanced at Brayden and noted how quickly he’d filled out since Hathor returned him to RockGate. Face no longer gaunt, his clothes no longer hanging on his six-foot-four-inch frame, he was nearly back to fighting weight. Shadows haunted his eyes. No one could guess the inner workings of his mind. What had happened in the desert, he kept to himself.

  The five men entered the building. Two security guards rose to their feet. “Hello, Mr. Nicolis. Please take the penthouse elevator.” One pointed to the waiting elevator on the right.

  “A trap,” Thane whispered.

  “We’ll soon find out,” Roman replied, though he didn’t think so. Declan Mairos wasn’t the type to wreck his own home if he didn’t have to.

  Ninety-nine stories up, the elevator opened into a plush apartment. Two suit and ties greeted them, their jackets open, their weapons easily seen. “Mr. Nicolis, Mr. Mairos is waiting for you,” one said.

  They walked across a spacious black and silver living room with a view of the city and surrounding suburbs. Above the marble fireplace, a silver lightning bolt. The emblem of Zeus.

  They approached a set of double doors, also inlaid with a silver lightning bolt. The door swung open into a grand library. Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling. In the center of the room, five men were seated around a large rectangular table: Declan Mairos at the head, two on each side of him—the one chewing a candy bar was his twenty-year-old son. The other, Cyrus, his second in command. Five more were arrayed behind. All of the men favored each other with stocky builds and varying shades of blond to brown hair, though their heights varied from five feet seven to six two.

  Declan topped off at six feet. That’s probably why he greeted them seated. Every single one of the Nicolis men towered over Declan and his men.

  “Welcome to my home, Roman. It has been much too long. Please have a seat.”

  Not long enough, Roman thought. This was a friendly meeting. One he requested. He sat at the end of the table. Reign sat to his right, Avery to his left while Thane and Brayden guarded his back. “Yes, I believe the last time we met was in Paris, nineteen hundred. You were planning on moving to New Orleans.”

  Declan cocked his head. “A branch of the family is still there. I found Atlanta more to my liking.”

  Roman nodded. “As I found New York.”

  Declan glanced at Reign. “It must be nice to be reunited with your twin. A two-thousand-year separation is hard to fathom. Then again, the Egyptian Gods are not known for their milk and kindness.”

  Roman and Reign stiffened. The circumstances of their separation weren’t common knowledge.

  “Has the Goddess Nephythys paid for turning you into her trained dick?” Declan said to Reign.

  Reign lunged to his feet, along with everyone else seated at the table except Declan. Hands steepled, he watched the festivities with barely masked glee.

  Roman grabbed Reign’s arm and forced his thoughts into his brother’s mind. This is what he wants. We will not give it to him. Stand down. Reign pushed back from the intrusion, but Roman wouldn’t allow himself to be kicked out. If not for me, do it for Alexis. We need this alliance to safeguard everyone we love.

  Body rigid, Reign resumed his seat.

  “Good to see you have control over your men, Roman. I couldn’t respect you if you didn’t.”

  “My men have control over themselves.” Roman sat.

  “I know exactly how much control your men have.” Declan motioned to Avery, Thane, and Brayden. “And lack thereof. How is Daniel... and your new wife, Stella?” Declan smirked.

  Reign grabbed Roman’s arm to keep him in his seat. Mentioning Stella and Daniel in the same sentence short-circuited Roman’s higher reasoning. Inhaling slowly helped dial down his rage.

  Declan had better not mention Emeline’s name. Roman didn’t think any of them could restrain Avery. As the God of Chaos, Roman doubted Avery could hold himself back if provoked too far. “How have you come by this knowledge?”

  The door to the conference room opened behind them. The click of heels sounded on the hardwood floor followed by a muttered “oh, shit” from Avery. Roman didn’t turn. He waited for the new player to make herself known, while Thane muttered a string of curses.

  She passed Roman on the left, where Avery sat. Avery joined and embellished further than Thane’s curses, while Roman sat in numb silence. She kept walking, the sway of her ass and the waves of her long hair familiar. She didn’t look his way until she stopped next to Declan’s chair. With a whirl, she faced all of them.

  “Hello, Roman,” she said in a husky voice.

  Same blond ha
ir, same porcelain skin, same perfect red lips with that practiced pout. Same bitch. No wonder Declan had all the inside information. He got it from Hector’s daughter and Roman’s ex-fiancée.

  “Hello, Bianca.” Roman swallowed his fury and refocused on Declan. “Frederick Tanis is in the process of establishing a Divine Council. I propose an alliance to stop him.”

  “Is that all the greeting I get?” Bianca said.

  “Why would you expect more?” Roman spared her a glance.

  She tilted her head back and laughed then planted her ass on the arm of Declan’s chair. She draped her arm around his shoulders and caressed his chest. That’s when Roman noticed the rock on her finger. “See, sweetie. I told you there was nothing left between us. You were worried for no reason. Now we can proceed with our wedding.”

  Declan smiled with the same amount of excitement of a man on death row. “Yes. I know why you’re here, Roman. A representative of Frederick arrived an hour ago to plead the same case. I believe you know him.”

  A side door opened.

  “Another fucking surprise.” Ink crept up the collar of Avery’s shirt.

  “Family! So good to see you all.” Daniel sauntered into the room with his arms wide, his face as joyous as a Powerball lottery winner.

  This time Roman, Reign, and Avery leaped to their feet. Guns cocked, Brayden and Thane were beside them. The reassuring weight of the Sword of Osiris rested in Roman’s hand. Reign clutched his black blade. A low hum of fury vibrated from Avery, yet he held his form.

  Declan’s men were on their feet, some with weapons drawn, others with their hands raised, ready to wield their power. Declan hadn’t moved and Bianca remained seated.

  Hand pressed to his chest, Daniel threw back his head and laughed. “Gentlemen, no need to fight over me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Emeline opened her front door and tried to hide her disappointment. It wasn’t Avery standing in her doorway.

  “Happy holidays!” An innocent grin stretched across Stella’s face. She had a bottle of wine balanced in one hand and an insulated food carrier in her other hand.