by Jayde Brooks
Eden walked up to Isis and stood within inches of the Ancient. “Move,” she boldly demanded. Isis stood six inches taller than Eden and made the mistakes of staring down her nose at the reborn Redeemer. Before Isis could open her mouth to say another word, Eden reached up, wrapped her hand around Isis’s throat, and forced the much taller Ancient down to the ground on her knees.
“I am so not in a good mood right now,” Eden told her. “I’ve got an Omen in me that’s itching to break something and your neck is feeling pretty damned good in my hand.”
Isis gagged and stared up at Eden with bulging eyes.
Prophet glanced around at an already nervous crowd slowly backing away from the three of them. This definitely not a good PR moment for the Redeemer, but if her intent was to scare the shit out of everyone by taking down one of Khale’s fiercest and most deadly Generals, then she’d certainly succeeded.
“Maybe you should let her go?” he offered. “We really need to go inside.”
It was a half-assed effort on his part, but at the moment, it was all he had.
“We’ll go in when this Ancient addresses me with respect,” Eden shot back. “Today. Tomorrow.” Eden shrugged. “One of these days, Isis, you and I are going to share some girl time.”
Eden released the grip on Isis’s neck and shoved her back onto the pavement.
Isis came to her senses, stood up, and reluctantly stepped aside.
Jarrod was the first one to greet them as they entered and closed the door behind them. He approached Eden as if she were radioactive.
“How’s it going?” he asked pensively.
She nodded. “I’m not gonna bite you, Jarrod.”
He looked to Prophet for permission to sort of hug her. When he got close, Eden frowned and he jerked back.
She smiled. “Kidding.”
“Who else is here?” Prophet asked.
Jarrod motioned toward the parlor. Khale was standing there. Prophet was surprised she’d be here, and so she shouldn’t be surprised when he finished kicking her ass. He started toward her to do just that, but Eden put her hand against his chest.
“No,” she murmured.
He looked into Eden’s eyes. She shook her head. Eden didn’t exactly soothe the savage beast, but she managed to put him back in his cage, for the time being.
“I knew you could do it,” Khale said to Eden. “There’s no way I would’ve done that if I didn’t think you were strong enough to survive.”
“You suspected that I might survive, but you weren’t sure. Were you?” Eden asked.
Khale tried to smile. “I’d hoped that I was right.”
“You put a fuckin’ knife in her, Khale.” Prophet was livid. “You can see where someone might have a problem with this. Right?”
Khale slowly approached the two of them. “She did it, Guardian.” She spoke calmly.
“She might not have done it, Khale,” he shot back. “And if she hadn’t, then you and I would not be having this conversation right now.”
“No, because you’d be dead,” Khale threatened.
Prophet started to charge her, but Jarrod stepped between him and Khale. “Whoa, brother.”
Prophet glared at him. “I’m not your fuckin’ brother!”
The Were shrugged. “It was a figure of speech, man.”
Jarrod’s dumb ass must’ve thought he was being funny when he lightly tagged Prophet in the arm, but it was a dangerous move on his part.
Khale looked at Eden.
“Careful, Khale,” Eden warned with a smirk on her face. “That knife trick is not going to work a second time.”
Khale nodded. “I know, sweetheart,” she said, sounding believably sincere. “It broke my heart to have to do that to you.”
Good girl. Eden didn’t look like she believed the Shifter’s lies any more than Prophet did.
“Once I understood where the Omen was, I knew what had to happen,” Khale explained. “You had to cross over to the afterlife to get to it, Eden. I couldn’t see any other way. There was no other way.”
Eden studied the Shifter long and hard before she finally responded to that nonsense. “When I was small, MyRose used to ask me why I didn’t seem to care for you. She’d ask me why I didn’t like you.” Eden paused.
Khale’s warm expression turned to ice as she waited for Eden to tell her. But Eden pushed past her.
“Is there anything to eat?” Eden asked, going into the living room and then searching for the kitchen. “I’m starving.”
Kale had gathered the heads of Ancient nations: Aelia, the leader of the Mer nation. Jarrod of course was the leader of the Weres. Prophet was the only Guardian in attendance. Since The Fall, the Guardians kept their distance from Prophet. It was his oath to the Redeemer that had alienated him from his brethren. Mkombozi had killed so many, including those whom other Guardians had sworn oaths to. A Guardian’s Oath was his purpose, and without it, he was hollow. Isis was there to represent the masses. She spoke for the Ancients outside on the front lawn who wanted no part of this prophecy fulfillment.
“You had no right, Khale,” Isis said fervently, sitting across from the Shifter, “no right to do this.” She glanced at Eden. “We can fight the Brood. We have humans on our side and together we can—”
“What will you do about the Demon, Isis?” Aelia probed. Aelia truly did have a face that resembled that of a fish. In the water she was as graceful as a dancer, but on dry land, she had to use a wheelchair to get around, shrouded from head to toe in wet coverings to keep her skin from drying out. “He poisoned our waters on Theia. He’ll do the same here.”
“The human Brood aren’t as powerful as Theian Brood,” Isis argued. “Once we know what we’re dealing with, we can beat them! They’re still human! Their bodies still have the same human frailties and disadvantages. Sure, they may be a bit stronger and faster, and they have the advantage of numbers on their side. If we come together with the humans, we can defeat this army, Ancients,” she said passionately. Isis avoided looking at Eden. “And we won’t have to rely on prophecies.”
Before anyone could stop her, Eden had crossed the room, grabbed a handful of Isis’s hair, and jerked back her head. “You are alive because of me, Ancient,” she snarled in Isis’s face. “Disrespect me again and I will tear off your fuckin’ head!”
“Eden,” Prophet said, gently grabbing hold of her arm and pulling her away from Isis. “You’ve made your point.”
He led her back to her seat next to him. This was the Redeemer that everyone was afraid of. This was the evidence he’d been looking for since the second bond. The influence of the Omens was beginning to claim her and take her from him after all, the way they’d taken Mkombozi.
“And what of Sakarabru, Isis?” Khale asked, coolly acting as if nothing had happened. “Do you think that if we simply kill off his Brood Army that he’ll surrender? Settle down, marry a nice woman, and retire perhaps?” she finished, sarcastically.
“Sakarabru won’t retire,” Eden finally said. “He won’t go away quietly and live among us in peace.” She stared at Isis and spoke as if she knew the Demon personally. “He will level this world if he has to, just to prove that he can. He’ll crush the humans and the Ancients, add water, and get his mystics to mold them all over again into whatever he wants them to be. I used to think that Sakarabru had already turned my world into hell on Earth, but he’s just getting started and if I can stop him, I will.”
Without saying another word, Eden stood up and left the gathering.
“Guardian,” Khale called after him as he turned to leave. “Are you as ready for this as she is?”
He left the room without answering.
MAGIC MOMENTS
“Tell him you seduced me,” Andromeda said, batting her eyelashes. “Tell him that you made love to me with such passion that I swore my unending devotion to you and willingly agreed to follow you anywhere.”
Kifo laughed.
“Tell him I’m a stalker a
nd that you friended me on Facebook and that I’ve been tracking you like a desperate nutcase that you’ve had to get a restraining order against because you fear for your safety.” Andromeda had asked Kifo to bring her to Sakarabru. And she’d made him promise not to interfere.
“You will solidify his trust in you, Kifo,” she explained. “Taking me to him will endear you to him even more.”
Andromeda was not at all like he’d imagined she’d be. She was sentimental, considerate, and cunning. In the short time he’d known her, the last thing in the world he would want to do was to hurt her or to let anyone else hurt her. But he knew what would happen if she made him do this.
“Andromeda, he’ll punish you. He’ll torture you in the most horrific ways. You can’t ask me to do this!”
“But I do ask this of you, Kifo, and more. I don’t make this request lightly. I have been in the company of Sakarabru before and I know what he is capable of,” she admitted solemnly. “I know what he will do to me, because he’s done it before.”
Andromeda was talking in riddles. “When? When were you with him?” he asked.
The Seer smiled. “There you go again—talking about time. Time is nothing to me, Kifo. How do you expect for me to measure here and now against then and tomorrow?” She shrugged. “I can’t. Not when they are all the same to me.”
Kifo was numb. She would willingly ask him to take her to the torment that Sakarabru would inflict upon her, and expect him to do nothing? It didn’t make sense.
“Why, Andromeda?” he asked. “You can’t expect for me to do this without telling me why.”
“How else do you think she’ll get the third Omen, Kifo?” Andromeda’s brown eyes twinkled. “Of course she’ll have to come for it. And it will be waiting for her when she needs it the most.”
* * *
Andromeda had been right. Lord Sakarabru could not believe his good fortune when Kifo came to him with Andromeda as his prisoner. He laughed and praised Kifo as if he were his true champion. He promised Kifo anything he wanted and told him that all he had to do was ask. And then he had his Brood take her away.
Kifo stood in the darkest corner of the room watching in silent despair and in horror at the terrible things Sakarabru was doing to her. Andromeda’s screams had long since turned to disgusting, strangled gurgles. The stench of blood and excrement permeated the room. Her pretty dress lay torn, stained, and crumpled on the floor, covered in layers of skin and saturated in blood.
The thrill in Sakarabru’s eyes was undeniable. He could’ve had his Brood torture her. He could’ve tormented her with his mind and not laid a finger on her, but the Demon relished bathing in her sweat and tearing away her flesh with his bare hands. As Kifo stood there watching, memories hidden in the darkest spaces of his mind began to awaken. Andromeda’s screams became Kifo’s. The blood slathered on the Demon’s face became Kifo’s blood.
“You should tell me what it looks like, Seer,” Sakarabru growled in her face. “Tell me what the Omen looks like so that I can stop searching for it.”
Andromeda gurgled some unintelligible sound. Sakarabru laughed and then scraped the tip of the iron knife against exposed tendons. “Atta girl! Make me work for it!”
Before he’d brought her here to Sakarabru’s torture chamber, Kifo had learned so much from her about the Omens that she’d made him promise never to speak of them with anyone.
“What are the Omens, Andromeda? What are they, exactly?”
Her delicate mannerisms and nature were old-fashioned and charming and brought out Kifo’s most gentlemanlike qualities. She insisted on walking with her arm in his, and he loved letting her.
“The first Omen is the mind of Sakarabru. It is the essence of his thoughts and his nature. It is his cunning and his fear. His control.”
Kifo was surprised. “Fear? Lord Sakarabru has fears?”
She nodded. “We all do. Why should he be any different? Of course he has them, but he keeps them hidden and safely tucked away. He is good at keeping them safe.”
“So when the Redeemer bonds with this first Omen, she bonds with the nature of Sakarabru?”
Andromeda became very thoughtful. “She understands him. She knows him. And yes. If she isn’t careful, she can become him. Sakarabru is not all monster, Kifo. There are elements of him that can be very attractive, especially to the Redeemer, and especially when she makes the next two bonds. It is this first Omen that can control the other two. But if she’s not careful, it can control her as well.”
They continued strolling for a while longer before he asked the next question.
“What is the second Omen?”
“Ah! The second Omen is his rage. It’s strong and chaotic. Angry and vicious. But it’s that part of him that has no sympathy or empathy. It’s the part of him that’s the most destructive, the warrior in him, and without the first Omen, it would rip the Redeemer in two.”
“The first Omen can control the second?”
“It must. For the Redeemer to survive the second bond, she has to discover this. She has to know it, or the second Omen will undoubtedly kill her.”
“And what is the third Omen?”
They stopped walking, and Andromeda turned to face him. “The third Omen is his passion, Kifo.”
Kifo was confused. “Passion? I don’t understand. Passion seems silly, Andromeda. Sakarabru has telepathic abilities; he’s got the power of influence. How would his passion serve the Redeemer in his destruction?”
“Think of it as his ego. It is the audacity of the Demon that gives him his power. Sakarabru is able to do what he does because his ego is massive. He desires to do these things and he’s driven to do them because they please and satisfy his true nature. His pure nature is evil, Kifo. And that is all it is. Without this third Omen, the Redeemer is simply a very introverted girl prone to fits of destruction. The third Omen makes her believe in the powers she possesses. It gives her the confidence that she has every right to use her abilities to whatever end she sees fit. She has to be poised to understand the depth of her powers and that it is her right to destroy the Demon and her privilege.”
Kifo thought for a moment. “In this case, the end she should see is the end of Sakarabru.”
Andromeda winked. “That’s the plan.”
“But … why her? Why couldn’t any one of us make these bonds with the Omens to defeat Sakarabru? I could’ve made them. Knowing what I know now, I would’ve. Mkombozi was just a royal. This reborn is just a human. My mystical powers are unmatched, Andromeda. Someone like me could’ve ended this long ago.”
Andromeda pressed a warm hand to his face. “But you are not his child, Kifo. You are not his flesh and blood. Mkombozi, and now Eden, are natural extensions of Sakarabru. Imagine that they are all pieces of the same puzzle. Of course they fit. The Redeemer is and has always been an extension of her father. And they will fit until the very end, until not only the destruction of the Demon is complete but the destruction of the Omens as well.”
“What do you mean?”
She smiled, looped her arm in his, and began walking again. “I mean that Sakarabru’s destruction is only a part of a much bigger adventure. And your role in it has just begun.”
Andromeda lay in a heap on the floor looking nothing like the pretty woman he’d brought here. She wasn’t moving. Sakarabru motioned for someone to bring him a drink, which he guzzled greedily. He looked over at Kifo and raised his glass in a toast, then nodded at the pile that was Andromeda.
“She never ceases to amaze me,” he said, breathless. “Sometimes, I get the feeling that she enjoys our visits as much as I do.”
Kifo felt like vomiting. “Did she tell you where to find the Omen?” he struggled to ask.
Sakarabru laughed. “Weren’t you paying attention, Djinn?” Sakarabru finished what was left of his drink. “She is the Omen.”
He came over to Kifo and towered over him. Kifo noticed that the Demon didn’t stand as tall as he had when he was first broug
ht back. Sakarabru’s stamina wasn’t very impressive either. He tired easily, and the weight of this atmosphere was starting to affect him the way it had affected all of them when they’d first come to this world.
“I think we have just found our advantage, my friend.” Sakarabru placed a bloody hand on Kifo’s stark white sports jacket. “If the Redeemer wants to make her bond, then she’ll have to come here to do it,” he said menacingly. “You’re the only one I trust, Kifo. Bring me my little reborn. Convince her that you know where the third Omen is.”
Kifo looked stunned. “She won’t believe me, Sakarabru.”
“Make her.” He thought for a moment and then suddenly came up with what seemed like a more reasonable idea. “Tell Khale where it is,” Sakarabru finally said. “She’ll see to it that the reborn comes for it.”
“Here? You expect Khale to come here?” Kifo asked. “She’ll suspect a trap.”
Sakarabru considered what Kifo had said. “Yankee Stadium,” he finally said, looking at Kifo and grinning. “Tell her that the Omen is in Yankee Stadium.”
Kifo nodded. “Yankee Stadium.”
TROUBLE ON THE WAY
There was something strangely melancholy about coming to an end of a thing. Sakarabru had been living on the edge of a precipice for far longer than he should have been. He had been born for one purpose, and that was to rule, his way, in his world. But fate obviously had other plans for him, and Sakarabru was here now, in this new world, but the one constant remained. To rule was his destiny.
This place disgusted him. Sakarabru’s shoes were covered in the debris of disobedience and failure. Paul Chapman had proven to embody both. What was left of the Brood lay shredded on the floor at Sakarabru’s feet. He had failed to stop the reborn from bonding with the other Omens and let her live for the opportunity to make the final connection.
Sakarabru squatted to look into what used to be Paul Chapman’s face and shook his head, disappointed. “I had such high hopes for you, Brood. You were to have been my greatest general. But you failed me.”