Embrace the Fire

by Spring Stevens

  “Why are you giving this to me?”

  Alera smiled weakly. “I think you may find you will need it more than I ever will. Grace, an old family friend, gave it to me. She told me that if you ever needed something bad enough, all you have to do is rub it and your need would be granted.”

  “Sounds like a fairy tale.”

  Angelica slipped the charm into her pocket and pulled out the diary she had hidden there. The book in her hand was old and the cover was discolored, but the name Antonia was written across the front. She clutched the book to her chest as Alera eyed it. Angelica’s heart burned with ache as she assured herself it would be kept safe.

  Angelica handed the book she was so carefully protecting to Alera. “This is my mother’s diary. The language is close to Old Latin, but no one at the museum seems to be able to translate it. They all think it was some sort of joke because of the Egyptian hieroglyphs mixed in with the other characters.”

  Alera delicately took the book as Angelica handed it to her.

  Alera stared mutely at the first page as her sister’s words burned into her mind:

  Today, I spoke with Grace. She had wonderful news. I am pregnant. I have decided to keep this journal in hopes that someday it will serve as a path to the past, our past, our love, and our journey to the future.

  Forcing her tears aside, she cleared her throat before speaking. “Only a few people can decipher this particular written language.”

  “That’s a little too far-fetched to believe.” She bit her lower lip. “Only a few people in the entire world? I know I shouldn’t even bother to ask but who?” Angelica leaned forward.

  “I’m one of those few. It’s the written language of my people.”

  Angelica frowned. “Will you read it to me? Or at least teach me how to read it? I have wondered about her for so long, and it would mean a great deal to me and my brother if we could at least know what’s in those pages.”

  “Perhaps I should speak with Gyth about this. There are things in this world he may or may not want you to know.”

  Irritation ran through Angelica. “Who is Gyth? And why would I have to have his permission? That diary was my mother’s, and I don’t understand why its contents should be anyone else’s business.”

  “In time, I think you’ll understand, but for now I’ll begin to translate it. If Gyth advises me to allow you to learn the language, then I’ll teach you, but until then I can only say that it begins with her pregnancy with your brother.”

  Angelica frowned but nodded her head. “Okay, I’ll leave the diary here. If I have family somewhere else on this planet — aunts, uncles, or cousins — will you at least let me know about them and if they’re mentioned in her diary?”

  “Let me speak to Gyth first and we’ll see.”

  Angelica stood, trying not to show how much leaving the diary behind was bothering her. It had become a part of her somehow. Turning to the door, she rubbed the charm. “It’s a beautiful charm. I guess I could continue to work weekends for now but I won’t be used like an escort again.”

  Alera nodded. “Thank you, Angelica.”

  • • •

  Alera frowned as Angelica closed the door behind her. Grace had placed the charm on her desk barely an hour ago and had instructed her to make sure it was placed in Angelica’s hand. Well, she had done as ordered. She wondered if the girl knew what was coming, and for a split second she wished her niece the best of luck. If she could defy Gyth for Angelica she would, but she couldn’t. No one defied Gyth and lived to tell the tale. If she kept the diary from him, she was dooming herself.

  She shuddered as her thoughts turned to Varick. He had entered the first stages of the Mating Rite. She could smell it lingering on his skin like battery acid. Rubbing her aching eyes, she caught her breath as she realized Angelica might very well get caught up in the trap of servicing Varick. And, sweet merciful Heavens above, Angelica was thirty and the Burning was coming! Alera damn near fainted at the thought.

  She had witnessed a Destroyer’s Mating Rite first hand, and she was in no way eager to experience it again. Her face froze, her eyes becoming darker as she thought of her mate.

  Alera shifted in her chair, tears welling in her eyes, and tried to remember what Grace had told her. It was not like her to be forgetful. And why was she suddenly overwhelmed with ill feelings towards her mate? Forcing her mate from her thoughts, she took a deep breath and refused to allow the last thousand years to catch up to her heart.

  She was Alera, owner of Tortured Souls, and she was no sniveling little princess who cried over spilled milk or lost her senses because she suddenly no longer wanted her mate. She tried to keep things in order — all things must go as planned, and no outside interference was allowed in the sanctuary of the Destroyers.

  Angelica was still human — that in itself was going to be a problem. Varick would be brutal, and he would not hold back. She slammed her fist down onto the desk. Angelica would die. If the terror of his beast didn’t kill her, the Destroyer in him would. An odd thought occurred to her as she fumed; she wondered what Varick looked like in his beastly form. Would he be a monster? A demon? An angel? What form would he take to finish the Mating Rite?

  Choking back her tears, she dialed Varick’ cell. When he answered with his usual quick banter, her heart lodged into her throat.

  “I have Antonia’s diary.” Her voice cracked, and she heard his rumble of curses. “Her daughter wishes for me to translate it.”

  “Is it in Atlantian?” A distinct, bone-crunching sound echoed in her ear as she heard metal contact metal.

  “Yes.” She sucked in a harsh breath as she heard a shrill cry and then utter silence.

  His voice was deep, twisted. “Translate it for her, but if it mentions anything about the gods, call me first.”

  Chapter 11

  Angelica groaned as she found the schedule that had been hidden by the monstrous piles of papers on her mahogany desk. The day had progressed slowly, her back and legs aching. Rubbing her neck, she stared at the schedule as if it would magically change. Twelve tours, three new Egyptian admissions, and a mandatory meeting were all scheduled in three days. The museum seemed to just get busier and busier every day. Seemed like she never got to enjoy it anymore.

  She wanted something to enjoy. The urge to call her brother struck her heart strings. She missed him, his jokes, his selfish ego, and his big stubborn eyes. Not once had he answered her calls. And she had called hundreds of times. Not one letter. His last words to her when she had gotten into her car were ‘I can’t make you stay here, but you’re making a mistake.’

  With her eyes closed, she leaned her head back against the soft leather of her chair and took a deep breath. Varick came to mind as she plowed through her thoughts. He was the sexiest man she had ever met in her entire life. She wanted to just sit here and enjoy the fantasies that were spilling out of her mind.

  Another groan eased from her lips. If her body didn’t quit aching, she probably wouldn’t be enjoying much of anything. Her door opening brought her head up, her eyes open. Theo, her boss, smiled and closed the door behind him.

  “Hey, lady. Just got this in a little over two months ago.” He held up an old, tattered book. “It’s been warranted as a fake, and since the museum owners didn’t want it, I bought it. Thought you might want to take a look at it.”

  Angelica stood, watched him rake his fingers through his short graying blond hair, and took the book. “Thanks. What is it?”

  “It came over with the shipment from Nigeria. It’s the oddest damn thing.” He mumbled under his breath, shrugged. “It puzzles me.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked as she gently opened the ragged, tattered front cover.

  “Well, at first I thought it might be some kind of spin-off of the book of the dead, but once I looked at it close
r — well, you’ll see.”

  Angelica caught her breath. “These are the same symbols as in my mother’s diary!”

  “Yeah. I figured you’d like to have it even if it’s a fake.” His wide smile melted Angelica’s heart. “And besides it makes the perfect gift.”

  Blinking in surprise, she laughed as he pulled out a birthday card. “Happy birthday. Everyone here has signed it.”

  “Thanks Theo. I love the book and the card.” He laid the card on her desk. “It’s nice to know someone remembered my birthday.”

  He grinned. “You’re welcome.”

  She examined the cover, and her eyes widened as she ran her fingertips over the four corners. Underneath her fingers were finely etched dragons and doves, the same as on the charm Alera had given her. Her mind raced and tumbled around as Theo left.

  Returning to the book, she drew closer noticing that underneath the hand written symbols there was faint silver lettering. Softly scratching at the ink, she uncovered one word. Rjurazmi. In Sanskrit, it meant resurrection.

  She jumped as the intercom on her desk chimed and the receptionist spoke. “Angelica, you have a call on line two.”

  Laughing at herself, she reached for the phone. “Hello, this is Angelica.”

  “Angelica. This is Varick.” She shuddered, his voice sending goose bumps along her skin. “I must apologize for the other night. I was under the influence and not acting like myself.”

  “And you think I will forgive you just because you called?” She leaned back, stretching her legs. God, her muscles ached and her back felt like a twisted towel. “Today is my birthday. Take me out, then I will consider forgiving you.”

  “As you wish.”

  “Where are we going?” she asked as she gently placed the book in her desk drawer. An intricate sequence of pictures ran through her mind. Like an old movie player, images of Varick in different poses flipped in front of her eyelids.

  “Dinner and then to a club, and please wear a dress. I’ve never seen you in anything other than slacks.”

  The pain in her back tightened, pelted down her spine. She twisted to the right, then to the left hoping the pain would lessen. But it didn’t.

  “If you’d give me a massage, I’d be tempted to wear leaves and vines,” she mumbled as she searched her top drawer for back pain medicine.

  “Now, that’s a picture I would enjoy looking at,” Varick responded seductively. “Of course, I would prefer the privacy of your place or mine for such an occasion.”

  Angelica smiled as she locked the book safely out of sight. “Seriously though, can you not be so controlling? I mean, I like the way I dress.”

  He sighed softly. “I know you do. I will pick you up at nine.”

  As an afterthought, she said, “Varick, I wasn’t serious about the vines and leaves thing and this doesn’t mean I’m going to climb into bed with you.”

  “Don’t stomp on a man’s dreams, darling. It’s not good for my ego.”

  “Believe me, you have enough ego to spare a few heartbreaks.”

  “You know, if you would just give me a fair chance, I could prove I’m a man of exquisite talents.”

  “A fair chance?” Angelica grinned. “I’ve given you a chance. And do those talents all lead to the bedroom? Or are you going to leave me hanging like you did the night you walked me home?”

  “You’re downright insufferable, to say the least. A wisp of a woman pointing out my mistakes and then demanding an apology from me, unbelievable.” He laughed. “It was a poor decision on my part. Truly, I am sorry I didn’t. I wish I had of kissed you.”

  “I don’t know what it is about you Varick, but I like bantering with you.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. The day couldn’t be going any slower. “You’re controlling, demanding, you have this huge ego to contend with, and you’re too good-looking for your own good.”

  “Don’t forget the best part, I’m persistent.” She could see him running his hand through his hair, a smile on his lips. “I promise to make that kiss up to you.”

  Angelica slowly sat down, leaned back in her chair, and closed her eyes. She wasn’t going to let a little backache ruin her night. “Nine, and if you are a minute late, I won’t go.”

  “I’ll see you then.”

  “Remember, don’t be late.” She twisted the top off the medicine bottle. “And I’m not wearing a dress.”

  “The leaves and vines, perhaps?” His chuckle echoed in her head, made her smile.

  “You’re not getting that lucky.”

  “I look forward to our … ” He paused. “Date.”

  “So do I. Goodbye Varick.”

  “Goodbye.” The phone clicked, dead silence on the other send.

  Angelica returned the phone to the base, put the pills in her mouth, and swallowed. Visions of Varick swam in her mind, creating a drugging fantasy. His hands, his mouth, and his body all over hers, in hers. She groaned, shook off the fantasy.

  Varick was a head or two above all the other men she had ever met — hell, he was the icing and the cake. He was the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, and all other men were like greedy little leprechauns that wanted what he had.

  Laughing, she had to admit she sure as hell wanted what he had. Now that she thought about it, she guessed that made her greedy, too, because she wanted to have her cake and eat it while sitting on top of that beautiful, big pot of gold.

  Chapter 12

  Zena toyed with the hair of the fledgling vampire that sat at her feet. The male behind her hummed as his long, ashen fingers worked through her hair, undoing the black braid. A female stood in front of her holding a triangular mirror, its reflection staring back at the vampire goddess relentlessly.

  Vanity was such a cruel term. Zena hissed, letting her double-edged fangs extend. She leaned back, her clawed fingertips curling into her slave’s hair.

  Without her minions, without their precious blood, she would age, or at least her skin would. And that was not something she would allow.

  Carefully, she tried to choose one of the minions to feed upon. In the Underworld, they were her cattle, so to speak, and did not need sustenance. The ones that had been on Earth when the portals were closed had not been so lucky. They had to feed from humans to retain their health and youth. She grunted and spat on the black floor. Human blood was so unsatisfying. She needed the blood of her minions. It was why they had been created. Her black eyes narrowed into tiny slits.

  The war between Damon and Gyth had caused so much misery. Relentless hatred welled up in her throat for both of them. Their stupid war had led to Gyth imprisoning Damon to the Underworld and any who had followed him, including herself. Here, in this dark hole, she had adapted, found that to nourish herself she could feed from the vampires. Above nourishing herself, she found that she enjoyed it far more than eating the ambrosia in the Heavens.

  “Mistress?” One of her nameless minions came slithering to her throne. “We have found something of interest.”

  She abruptly stood. “Where?”

  He bowed his head as her horns came rushing out of her skull and twisted down the sides of her head. “I will take you, mistress.”

  Zena followed, her heart thudding desperately in her chest. They followed corridors, deeper and deeper into the labyrinth that was the Underworld. Minutes seemed like hours as she slithered behind the minion.

  At the end of a long tunnel, the male stopped and smiled, showing his jagged yellow teeth. They were slimy and glistened. “Here, mistress, feel the wall.”

  She pushed him out of her way and gently laid her palm against the root-covered wall. She gasped and jerked back as a bolt of electricity raced through her veins. “Tear it down, shred the roots, and reveal to me what lies beyond!”

  Anxiety filled her as she watched as the
roots give way, soft green light filtering out of the many slits and tears. Her heart stopped as the doorway revealed itself.

  The soft green glow led into a wide chamber. Dust had settled over every nook and crevice of the gigantic room. In the center stood a large, blacked-out mirror, its frame glistening and glowing. A soft lull lilted through the air as she slowly made her way to it.

  Reaching out, she touched the mirror, its cold black surface instantly turning to lukewarm ripples of sand. Her hand began to shake as she attentively stepped through the warmth. She kept her eyes closed as her body was propelled through. Voices surrounded her, begged her to stop and speak to them. Ripples of unseen water touched her arms with the barest flutter of butterfly wings. And for the first time in her long life, she felt a sort of peace.

  Unable to control herself, she opened her eyes and gasped. She was surrounded by translucent water, but at the same time she breathed. Her body was not wet, yet she felt like she was submerged, pliant with the gentle pulls of nature. The water churned, bubbling softly all around her. She laughed as she popped bubbles like a child, giggled like she had found a new lover, and splashed the clear water as if she were a water nymph.

  A scream ripped from her throat as hands as cold as Gyth’s black heart wound around her and dragged her down into the churning bubbles. A voice, one so soul-shatteringly beautiful and full of sorrow that she nearly wished herself dead, roared and whipped through her body, sending her headlong into desperation and regret.

  Through her bloody tears, she cried, “This is the River Styx! I have found the portal!”

  Laughter filled her ears as she was thrown into a vortex of purples and blues, sparks of purple-black flames licking at her skin and stripping her of sanity. When at last she knew she would give in to the overwhelming misery, she fell to her knees in cool, gritty sand.

  Urging her body to listen to her impulses, she looked up and laughed with absolute satisfaction. She stood on shaky legs and stared at the small ball of transparent water before her. Willing her hand to reach out, she lightly touched it with her fingertips. Instantly, her body slipped back into the vortex. This was the answers to her prayers — Varick would be hers very, very soon.