The Kala Trilogy: An Urban Fantasy Box Set

by Teagan Kearney

  “Yes.” A gentle whisper.

  “Never forget I love you. Till we meet again, goodbye Tatiana, my eternal love.”

  She blinked and stared into Angelus’s bright blue eyes.

  As the demon dominated Vanse, his skin became reddish, and black hair transmuted to red-gold; his muscles bulged, and he bucked and twisted beneath her. The silver links stretched as he tried to free him himself from the restraints.

  The appearance of the monster goaded the werewolves into a fury. With metamorphosis virtually upon them, their control was minimal, and they streamed forward.

  “No!” Forked Lightning’s fierce wild cry shattered the unrelenting crescendo as he joined his power to that of his spirit guides and halted the impetus of their fury. He jumped up onto the altar, standing next to her, facing the horde of enraged weres, while Daniel appeared on the opposite side—both prepared to defend her.

  She reinforced the sphere she’d created to include the two weres, and chanced a look around.

  Forked Lightning wore a beaded headband and necklace, and a shimmering cloak of white feathers. Qaletaqa and Meoquanee were with him.

  Tatya pushed with more force, and Angelus stopped struggling, but sulfurous yellow and black streaks crawled up the sides of the globe, and utter silence reigned. The demon had sealed them off from the tumult outside.

  Staring at Angelus, she remembered the dreadful shock of seeing her first love lying on the beach, his arm behind his head as if resting while he stared sightlessly at the early morning sky. She recalled the sunshine after a storm smile of a beloved younger brother, her breath catching as she hugged him tight and said goodbye. A father’s beating, being stoned and many more losses and separations, one after another, a kaleidoscope of suffering undergone lifetime after lifetime flooded her mind, stabbing at her defenses, weakening her resolve.

  A brilliant cruel smile spread across his face, and tiny vein-like cracks appeared in the walls as his corruption spread. Angelus extended his fangs and lifted his head as if to bite her, then threw his head back and laughed. The cracks grew thicker, and the foul darkness within the orb grew as the light dimmed.

  Intense heat emanated from him, pushed through her skin, reached into her heart, and seared her past into oblivion. He was her master, and this was how it was meant to be. How often had the other, the traitor called Vanse betrayed her? How many times had he stabbed her? Images of each death flashed before her. Why had he always chosen that way to save her? Tears at his treachery fell, and where they dropped, the silver links weakened. What was the purpose of this? What would killing Angelus achieve? Delay the inevitable? This was her Fate, and to deny her destiny brought misery and pain to those around her.

  The werewolves’ howling penetrated the globe, their delirium building as they transformed. The fractures cracked, a split appeared, and the animal stink of wolf mixed with an awful rage penetrated.

  Midnight. The thought came and, like a speck of sand blown by a storm disappeared. A pack of werewolves would be no match when she joined her strength to his, but she couldn’t tell whether that was his thought or hers. A movement out of the corner of her eye distracted her. She turned away from Angelus, and the feather floated toward her. She stretched out her hand, but the air had turned to thick syrup, and she found it almost impossible to move. But the pretty iridescent feather caught the light, and she wanted it. She could have anything her heart desired. Wasn’t that part of the bargain he’d offered?

  “No, not everything, Tatiana.” His voice, lush with promise, enticed her. “What is a feather compared to the unlimited opulences I possess? Leave it, sweet Tatya, I will adorn you with a million jeweled feathers.” Yes, they would be partners, but her duty was to obey him.

  Yet she was determined if she was to be his, first, the feather must be hers.

  “Leave it!”

  But she took no notice of the sudden blistering burn where their bodies touched and reached out, grabbing the feather.

  And the spell broke as the feather expanded into a war bonnet and Otakay manifested. “Tatya! Your weapon!”

  Following the Sioux warrior, the Bandrui priestesses burst through, fierce and strong. Their appearance blocked the spread of the nauseating poison from the accursed creature beneath her. Tatya summoned memories of unconditional love showered upon her by countless mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and friends whom she’d loved.

  Angelus reared, trying to throw her off, strands of dark poison hissing as they emerged from his skin. They clung to her arms, dampening her will and restricting access to her abilities.

  “Use the knife!” Otakay screamed, adding his strength to hers. Awareness of Changing Sky’s presence, the certain knowledge that through the Sioux warrior he was still with her, cleared the miasma of bewilderment. She reached behind her, yanking the oaken dagger out of its sheath. The Bandrui sang as she raised the dazzling knife on high, its brilliant light extinguishing the demon’s darkness. As once before, combined shamanic magics and Druid might streamed through her.

  The pack stood silent, jaws open, the change halted, watching in awe as the night sky lit up with a display of supernatural forces greater than that of a pack at full moon.

  Angelus still fought desperately to escape, his muscles rippling with diabolical forces, his grin a rictus, blood dripping from his lips as his fangs bit down; once more he waged war with those who were expelling him from this plane, yelling frenzied ferocious shrieks of rage.

  Tatya breathed in deep, ready to bring the blade down, but Angelus had gone, and she was staring at Vanse. No. This couldn’t happen. She could only oust Angelus when he was in control. If she struck when Vanse had the upper hand, he would die and the demon would jump. Forked Lightning and Daniel stood closest. She dropped her arm. “Vanse?”

  “Call him, Tatya. He’s playing with you, but if you call him, he can’t resist.” Vanse’s voice rang with anguish. “Call him, my love.”

  Tatya heard Fidelma’s voice, and saw the blonde Bandrui priestess,

  “Create a wall between them, child. Here’s how.”

  She listened as the priestess whispered ancient secrets to her. She bent and kissed Vanse. One tear fell, and she wiped it away. “Angelus. Come. I have a deal to offer you.”

  And as the brown eyes altered, blue rimming the edge of his pupils, red-gold color sliding among the black hair, she glimpsed the nexus, created by the turning, where the two souls met. She began crafting a crystal wall between the two.

  The demon sensed something amiss, couldn’t understand what it was and tried to release control back to Vanse.

  “Come, I have a gift for you.” She opened her shields, projecting honesty, a willingness to oblige, and concealing her weapons. She’d fooled him this way before.

  As Angelus, driven and consumed by the ravenous hunger for dominance, reached for her, the split between the two personae became visible. Using the Druid magic, Tatya softened the crystal, and with swift hands stretched the malleable substance over the usurper, encasing him in a cocoon, and separating him from Vanse. The instant the sides joined together, they solidified into an impenetrable wall before he could retaliate.

  Vanse’s body no longer strained beneath her, but lay still, waiting, with Angelus’s sky blue eyes staring up her through the crystal walls as his red-gold curls writhed and spread out like snakes inside his new prison.

  Now he was free of the demon, Tatya felt her bond to Vanse, the glowing golden chain spring to life, channeling his and his vampires’ powers to her. She opened herself, imbibing, assimilating every last drop, and forged herself into the fatal weapon needed to destroy the enemy.

  Hate dawned as Angelus realized every struggling movement to free himself drew the walls in tighter, till the deep clear crystal pressed against his skin, swaddling him, leaving him helpless and unable to move. A dark red mist formed, staining the transparent prism, and she saw his blood red cruel lips move, knew he was cursing her, cursing Vanse, swearing he’d ha
ve his revenge, swearing he would soon be free again. But she heard nothing.

  “Now.” Changing Sky, Vanse, the Bandrui, spoke as one. “We cannot hold the walls in place and the wolfen off for much longer.”

  The werewolves’ transformation had resumed with force, and howls as if from far away penetrated her bubble and flickering wolf like shadows raced back and forward outside the protective covering.

  Tatya raised the lustrous gleaming dagger, and its light filled the space, spreading out and beyond the globe.

  Otakay appeared beside her, placed his hand over hers, adding his will to her purpose.

  She brought the knife down quick, thrusting hard. The sigils blazed, and exploded blindingly bright as the blade slid through the crystal casing and entered Vanse’s heart.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Conclusion

  Fabio led the procession. Tatya and Sheriff Bill Corwin walked side by side behind the four vampire pallbearers carrying the lead-lined white oak coffin. Vanse’s entire vampire family followed at a respectable distance. Everyone wore black. Gucci, Versace, Chanel. They’d done their master proud and donned their best mourning outfits to honor him. Even Bill wore an old suit Winona had found hanging in the back of the wardrobe, and given a good brushing. Tatya wore a black top, pants, and jacket she’d unearthed from the depths of a box she’d neglected to unpack and had scraped her hair into a ponytail.

  Last night’s events still played like a movie scene on repeat, over and over in her mind. After driving the ensorcelled knife into Vanse’s body, she’d collapsed on top of him sobbing. Forked Lightning and Daniel had held back their change, and they gently lifted her off the altar. The explosion of psychic energy had forced those weres not already transformed into the change. With their animal in control, they’d fled into the woods, dominated by the compulsion to hunt and feed.

  Corwin had appeared, and later Fabio, with a contingent of vamps, pulled into the clearing. No weres had been present to object. They’d lovingly lifted Vanse and placed him in a makeshift coffin in the back of a hearse and driven in convoy back to St. Raphael’s.

  Apparently, vampire funerals took place as soon as possible, and nine hours later, with caffeine and Corwin’s hand under her elbow keeping her upright, Tatya accompanied Vanse on his final journey. A dazed numbness disconnected her from reality, from the fact that she’d killed not just anyone, but the one person who’d always done everything possible to protect her. An opaque fog lay between her and the world. She saw what was happening, yet remained detached and unaffected. Thoughts rose, drifted in cotton wool wisps, and disappeared before she could grasp them.

  Vanse was being buried in a crypt she hadn’t known existed. She’d thought the ballroom cum conference room was on the lowest level, before learning about the isolation cells where they’d imprisoned Sean, but Fabio opened a warded door and they descended to yet a deeper level.

  The demon blood appeared to prevent the normal vamp disintegration. She wondered if Sean’s coffin was here somewhere. Had Vanse ever visited it? How many of his family were here? There was much of his life he’d never shared with her. They’d never had enough time. Angelus’s machinations always intervened, dominating their lives. The Tarot cards had spoken true. Death, the end of a cycle and The Tower of Destruction, catastrophe, had indeed taken place.

  The procession halted at the end of the corridor, and Fabio invited her to move forward, take her rightful place as consort, and precede the coffin as it entered its resting place.

  Shying away from the image of Vanse’s body lying in the coffin behind her, she entered the large room where Vanse had chosen to spend eternity. The mausoleum was stark with bare white walls, and only the large crystal chandelier indicated his status. The air stirred as mourners filed in, surrounding the coffin now placed in position on the polished white marble plinth while glimmering rainbow lights danced over the walls and bowed heads. Despite the size of the space, many had to wait outside in the corridor.

  “You may say good-bye now.” Fabio’s voice was velvet.

  She’d been told this was an honor accorded a consort.

  He gestured and two pallbearers lifted the coffin lid, holding it open.

  She moved forward and breathed in the scent of sandalwood. Her emotions roiled around the box where she’d stuffed them. She tightened the lock. Later.

  They’d packed shavings of sandalwood, and small bowls of myrrh and frankincense along the sides of his body, and his head rested on a white silk pillow. Vanse had been bathed and dressed in a crimson silk robe, open at the neck and belted around the waist; his expression was peaceful, and he looked as if he was taking a nap—apart from the dagger sticking out of his chest.

  Tatya had explained it was necessary to leave it in place. At the moment of the demon’s expulsion, Vanse’s half-demon blood prevented the disintegration of his body, and there was a small chance he could yet survive. If they removed the blade, he would die. But time was a great destroyer and would weaken the blade’s enchantment, hopefully allowing his recuperative abilities to work. Vampires enjoyed an extensive life span if they were careful, as did demons. The strength of the spell placed on the weapon made the chance of this happening during her lifetime non-existent.

  She stroked his forehead, smoothing back his hair. His skin was still warm. How long before the demon blood in his veins cooled? She bent and touched her lips to his forehead. The veil separating her from reality parted, and it was all she could do to not sob her heart out, and beg him to please, please, return.

  Corwin’s touch on her arm was light.

  “Thank you.” The veil descended again

  Fabio nodded, and the coffin lid came down with a soft sigh and a click.

  The rest of the formalities comprised a gathering in the ballroom where Tatya stood between Fabio and Corwin, nodding as every single person bowed and offered her their condolences. The whole scene seemed even more surreal as a professional human orchestra played classical music, and Vanse’s family gathered in small groups, and talked in subdued tones, sipping O negative or B+ or whatever they fancied in elegant long-stemmed cut crystal champagne flutes.

  Tatya and Corwin refused the red wine; its resemblance to the color of blood was too close for comfort.

  After the youngest vamp, which meant the most recently turned, had offered their commiserations, Fabio called for silence. The orchestra ceased playing, and an elderly gentleman read out Vanse’s will in a deep sonorous voice. Fabio was named the head of the family until it became clear Vanse was never going to return, at which point he would ascend to the position of master. Vanse relieved Tatya of any responsibility toward his family, but they would always honor her, and come to her aid if needed. In addition, he stipulated a large sum of money be awarded her and a generous annual stipend.

  When, at last, Fabio escorted her and Corwin up to the ground floor of St. Raphael’s, the smell of antiseptic felt like a fresh breeze. He told her he’d be in touch to complete the financial arrangements.

  She and Corwin walked through the foyer.

  “Well, as wakes go, I’ve been to better. Do you want a drink, Tat? Lord knows, I could do with one after that. The undead are morbidly serious about their funerals.”

  “No, thanks, Bill. I think I’ll just go home and sleep.”

  As they exited the hospital, Tatya spotted Forked Lightning coming toward them.

  “Good morning, Sheriff.”

  Bill gave the young shaman a cold look. “You broke the law.”

  Forked Lightning stared right back before lowering his gaze. “Yes, we did, and I apologize, Sheriff, but if we hadn’t, she might have paid the price. You know you couldn’t have held him.” His head lifted. “And we did what was necessary to protect our own.”

  Bill held out his hand. “And you have my thanks. But don’t ever try bending, breaking, evading, or whatever you call it, the law again.”

  Forked Lightning shook Bill’s hand. “No, sir.”

  “Give m
e your word.”

  “I can’t do that, Sheriff, but I swear on my pack that I’ll try.”

  Bill grinned. “I’ll take that. It’s more than most will do. I’ll give you two a minute, then I’ll run you home, Tat.”

  Forked Lightning waited till the sheriff was in the car and had started the engine. “I’m sorry for—”

  Tatya stopped him. “You don’t have to say anything. This... this Angelus business goes back a long way.”

  “But if you need something from me, don’t hesitate to ask.”

  She nodded, the weight of events suddenly too heavy, her energy depleted by maintaining the mask of normality when she wanted to scream and scream and never stop.

  “And when you’re ready I want to start those lessons Changing Sky told me to take from you.” He paused, uncertain if this was the right time to mention this matter.

  “Fine.”

  “Okay, then. Take care, Tatya. The pack is in your debt, and you can call it in any time.”

  Tatya found herself clasped to Forked Lightning’s chest, breathing in his musky animal scent, so different from Vanse. “Thanks,” she muttered as he released her. She watched him stride away without a backward glance. That was one lesson she could learn from him.

  The vamp bodyguards were noticeably absent as Corwin pulled up outside the shop.

  It was midday, and the late spring day held the promise of summer’s heat as the sun shone out of a cloudless blue sky. Main Street enjoyed the lull between the morning rush to school and people hurrying along eager for their lunch break.

  Tatya watched the few shoppers stroll past. What did they know of the world she inhabited? A year ago, she’d been one of them. Well, almost. Being a psychic healer placed her in the marginal territory between the supernatural and the normal. But she’d always walked on the human side of the line before Angelus returned.

  “Do you want me to come in? Or do you feel like going for that drink?”

  Tatya attempted to smile, something she used to do a lot once upon a time, but the muscles in her cheeks were rigid, and refusing to cooperate, freezing her face into a mask. “No. I’ll be fine.”