Curses, Fates & Soul Mates

by et al Kristie Cook

  Clearly, she’d get no help from that front.

  Her breathing was uneven as Vycor stopped in front of her. He smiled, and it made every hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Moving away from him, she looked around the seats, praying for divine intervention. She vaguely realized there were no children in the room and could only be grateful for that.

  “Stop!”

  Kyr’s gaze flew to the doors as her Kyndred, Wyk and Ullah, hurried inside the chamber. On their faces, she saw the concern and anger that she hadn’t received from her birth parents. They both walked up to her and stood between her and Vycor.

  “You can’t do this, Advisor Vycor,” Wyk said, his voice shaking with emotion. “This form of the Ruvex Rite was deemed inhumane by the Vawn more than a century ago.”

  “I have just finished explaining why this form of the Rite is required to properly cleanse Ma’jah Kyr, WykOwar. You have no right to question me.”

  “Why are you doing this in front of all of these people?” Wyk asked in a lower voice. “The Ruvex Rite is meant to be done in a private, comforting environment. This—what you’re doing—amounts to nothing more than public humiliation. It’s barbaric.”

  Kyr wanted to throw her arms around her Kyndred and thank them for championing her when no one else would. Love for them flowed through her, helping combat her fear. When Vycor stepped forward, she moved so that she stood beside her Kyndred, rather than behind them.

  “You should stop right now, WykOwar,” Vycor hissed in the barest whisper. “Do you think I don’t know about the memory charms and mental blocks you used on Ma’jah Kyr while on Earth?”

  Wyk’s posture stiffened. Kyr glanced at him in surprise.

  Vycor continued, “I know you and your amanti both got too attached and didn’t want Ma’jah Kyr to return to this life. But she’s here now, and if you don’t want me to order you sent to the palace prison for interfering, you will walk away right now.”

  Emotion clogged Kyr’s throat as she realized what her Kyndred had done in an attempt to keep their family together as long as possible. Battling back tears, she stepped forward.

  “Don’t threaten them,” she said, keeping her voice as quiet as Vycor had. Turning to her Kyndred, she said, “Thank you for trying, but please leave. I don’t want you to witness this.”

  Ullah’s eyes filled with tears. “No, Kyra!” she gasped.

  “She isn’t Kyra anymore,” Vycor said. “And if you don’t leave this chamber immediately, I’ll issue the order to have you imprisoned.”

  Kyr grabbed her Kyndred, hugging them hard. “Go now,” she said. “I couldn’t get through it if you were both taken from me, too.”

  Wyk’s eyes were damp as he nodded. Reluctantly, he took a disconsolate Ullah to lead her back out of the chamber. Kyr watched them go, her hope trailing along behind them.

  “Now then,” Vycor said in a stronger voice as he reached out and brushed his fingers along her cheek. “Seal the doors. Let the Ruvex Rite begin.”

  CHAPTER 36

  “Ty. TaeDane. Ty!”

  Pain radiated through Ty’s head, making it feel like his skull was trying to squeeze his eyeballs out of their sockets. Just the thought of moving his head made his stomach revolt.

  “Get your ass up, Ty!”

  The voice finally got through the red haze coating his mind. Slowly, he allowed his eyes to open. The lighting was dim, a small blessing.

  “Are you up? Ty, damn it! Don’t pass out again.”

  Whose voice was that? Sem’s, he vaguely realized as he tried to register his surroundings. Why was his cousin yelling at him? Where was he?

  “Ty, come on! Get your shit together. Kyr needs us!”

  He sat up so fast he retched. It all came back to him in a flash.

  He had returned to his chambers after being with Kyr. Vycor was there, waiting for him.

  “Where have you been, Dem-Shyr?” the Advisor asked.

  “That’s none of your concern,” Ty answered. “I believe the more important question is, why are you here in the middle of the night, Vycor?”

  “I need you to come with me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. In fact, there are a few things we need to discuss, and now is as good a time as any.”

  “On the contrary,” Vycor sneered, “you are leaving with me. I can’t have you interfering in the Rite. You know as well as I do that interruptions can be quite unfortunate for the person being cleansed.”

  Ty’s fists clenched at the threat to Kyr. Screw talking to the Guardians. He was going to knock out Vycor’s teeth and they’d figure out the rest of the details later.

  “I have also sequestered your cousin,” Vycor said as Ty stepped forward.

  That stopped him. “What?”

  “SemDane has been taken into custody. I wouldn’t want him to do anything foolish either, you see. His repression has not yet been reinstated, so he is likely to act foolishly due to his misguided feelings for Ma’jah Kyr.” Vycor’s eyes flashed. “Yes, I know all about it. Now, if you do not wish him any harm, you will come quietly.”

  “You have no authority to—”

  “As the Rite administrator, I have every right to ensure no harm will come to the person whose Rite I am conducting. Your interference will inarguably result in harm to Ma’jah Kyr.”

  “You aren’t going to administer the Rite, you demented son of a bitch,” Ty growled, advancing on him.

  That was the last thing Ty remembered. Touching the back of his head, he felt a large bump and gash. Judging by the amount of blood on the floor, the blow might have killed someone without his healing abilities. His body was slowly knitting the wound. In the meantime, he hoped his brains didn’t leak out.

  “Sem?”

  “Thank Yen-Ki, Ty! Vycor stuck us in the prison.”

  Ty shoved himself to his feet and walked unsteadily over to the door of his cell. A small opening allowed him to see out. Sem was in the cell across from him. From what Ty could see of his face, his cousin had been hurt, too. His skin was pale and streaked with blood.

  “The guards keep saying that they’re not allowed to free us,” Sem said. “They were told by Vycor that it’s a matter of security for Kyr’s Ruvex Rite, which overrides your authority.”

  “I’m going to absolutely eviscerate him,” Ty swore, rattling the cell door handle and pounding on the heavy wood, testing for weaknesses. “How long have we been down here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Ty’s anger left him as a wave of fear overtook him. Kyr’s fear. Was she afraid because she didn’t know where he was? Or had the Rite already started?

  Gren, he called out with his mind. I’m in the prison.

  I’m on my way, Gren replied.

  No! Ty thought back. Send someone else you trust. You have to stay with Kyr. She—

  She ordered me to find you. I had no choice.

  “Oh, God,” Ty whispered.

  “What’s wrong?” Sem called out.

  “I think the Rite has started. Kyr has no one there to protect her.”

  A minute later, he was sure of it. Pain screamed through his head, dropping him to his knees. This time, it wasn’t physical. It was projected. He was experiencing Kyr’s pain.

  “Ty? Are you okay?”

  He couldn’t answer Sem. His teeth were clenched together as he clutched the sides of his head. Vycor was being as brutal as he could, forcing himself on Kyr’s mind instead of coaxing her gently through the Rite as he should. It was a vicious, vindictive assault.

  Another blast of pain made him shout a curse.

  “Ty, what the hell is going on?”

  Vycor was mentally raping Kyr, and Ty couldn’t do anything to stop it. That was what was going on.

  Kyr! He knew she couldn’t hear him, but he started sending thoughts to her anyway. Kyr, I love you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there like I promised. I’m coming. I’ll get there as soon as I can. Just hold on, baby…

  It
felt like the assault lasted forever. Sem had stopped calling out to him. Ty stayed on his knees even when the pressure eased. The lingering pain would have knocked him back on his ass if he’d tried to stand. He could only imagine the pain that Kyr was experiencing directly, since he only felt a buffered residue of it.

  He was going to kill Vycor as painfully as possible for this.

  Where the hell are you, Gren?

  Almost there, Dem-Shyr.

  How long would it take him to get to the Ritual Chamber from the prison? He tried to calculate it in his head, not having gone that particular route before. If he ran the entire way, it would take five minutes or less.

  That would feel like an eternity to Kyr.

  He felt her terror. His heart pounded for her. His palms were moist. Sweat dripped along his hairline.

  Searing pain across his right palm made him cry out in shock. A second later, the same pain blazed across his left. The pain all but choked him.

  “Ty, you’ve got to tell me what’s happening,” Sem implored. “Are you okay?”

  “No,” he whispered, unable to speak louder than that. It felt like his flesh had been flayed from his hands.

  He knew then that Vycor was using the old Ruvex Rite ritual on Kyr. If they didn’t get there soon, there was every chance he would kill her.

  * * *

  Kyr had refused to allow Vycor to chain her down for the Rite. She knew this was a mental ritual. There was no reason she should have to be bound to the altar like an offering.

  “Very well,” he’d told her with that cruel smile. “But we’ll remove that pretty lace jacket. No sense in it getting ruined.”

  Her heart thundered harshly against her breastbone over his words. He lifted a hand and several Mynders that Kyr didn’t recognize came forward. Two of them removed the jacket, then placed their hands on her bare shoulders and pushed down until she was forced to kneel at the base of the altar. Vycor stepped in front of her and looked down at her. She read the triumph in his eyes even as he reached for her.

  He placed his hands on either side of her head, and without any warning whatsoever, drove straight into her mind.

  Her mental defenses sprang up immediately. No! her mind rebelled. He’ll take things from you that you want to keep. Don’t let him in!

  His fingers dug into her scalp, tugging at her hair as he battled with her. She realized he was enjoying her resistance. There was even a growing bulge in the crotch of his pants. That just made her fight harder.

  Kyr, I love you. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there like I promised. I’m coming. I’ll get there as soon as I can. Just hold on, baby…

  Ty’s voice ran through her head, giving her added strength. She didn’t know what had happened to him or how his thoughts were suddenly getting through to her, but it meant he was still alive, and he was coming for her. She had to find the strength to fight.

  So she fought and she fought. The pain was unrelenting. It cornered her like a wounded animal, making her feral and defensive. And when she’d had enough, she pushed back.

  Violently.

  Vycor released her. His eyes widened as he looked down at her. Both of them drew in sharp breaths, as though their fight had been physical rather than mental. When something warm and wet dripped from her nose, she glanced down. The front of her white dress was now lined with blood from a nosebleed.

  Perhaps it was more physical than she’d realized.

  “I knew we were going to have to do this the hard way,” Vycor said, that terrible smile back in place. “Chain her down.”

  Kyr’s heart shot up into her throat. “No,” she rasped, trying to get to her feet. She felt like she had aged fifty years.

  The Mynders ignored her refusal, easily lifting her up and dragging her onto the altar. They each took a wrist or ankle and pinned her down so they could secure the shackles. She couldn’t put up much resistance. Her body felt lifeless.

  I’m still with you, Kyr. Gren is almost here. Be strong. I love you.

  Ty’s thoughts sounded calm, but she felt the pain behind them. She knew then that he was feeling what she was.

  Oh, Ty. Please don’t stay joined to me through this. The thought didn’t go far enough to reach him, though. There was no strength behind it.

  Vycor positioned himself back at the head of the altar. She watched as his gaze slid from her eyes to her bound ankles and back up again. Evil hunger distorted his face, making her wonder how she had ever thought him handsome.

  How could the crowd not see how much he was enjoying this? None of this was right. It was beyond horrible. Why weren’t they doing something about it?

  Looking at the Mynders on either side of the altar, he said, “You know what to do when I begin again. The only way I will break through such formidable defenses is if you use the implements. The physical pain will distract her enough from my intrusion that I will finally be able to get into her mind.”

  Physical pain? Kyr’s eyes wheeled to the right as the Mynder moved. He lifted a rod with a glowing tip. It looked like it had been sitting in a raging fire.

  “No,” she said again, her voice stronger this time. She met the Mynder’s dark gaze. “Don’t hurt me. Please.”

  Vycor’s hands returned to her head. She braced herself for his attack. He held nothing back, flinging himself at her mental defenses like a battering ram. Her mind screamed in terror and fury. Seconds later, that scream had a voice as one hot rod was placed against her palm and then another. Her delicate skin sizzled and burned, scenting the room with charred flesh. Her screams echoed through the vast room.

  “Let me in!” Vycor shouted, spittle flying from his mouth.

  No!

  Tears poured from her eyes, mingling with the blood from her nose as it dripped down the sides of her face. The Mynders removed her shoes.

  “No!” she shrieked.

  But they did it anyway. Hot rods scorched the tender soles of her feet. The first two Mynders moved from her palms to her forearms, pressing the rods against her skin again and again, searching for any sensitive place they could find. They lifted her skirts and bared her thighs, branding her there, too. When that didn’t work, they pulled out tools that looked like scalpels and started carving.

  Her body arched up from the altar in agony. She writhed and jerked in an attempt to escape her bonds. Her voice was hoarse from her screams.

  Vycor’s hold tightened more and more the longer she fought him. He pushed as hard as he could against her defenses, even lifting her head and slamming it into the altar in frustration. Darkness ringed her vision, but Vycor pulled her back, not letting her succumb, needing her conscious for the Rite to work.

  She was going to die, she realized. If she didn’t let Vycor into her mind, she would die.

  You will be challenged in body, in mind, and in soul…forced to make sacrifices.

  The Prima Divyner had spoken of this. If she yielded to the torture and allowed Vycor into her mind, he would win. He would either dispose of her and take over Alametria, or use his mental abilities to make her do whatever he wanted. He could have her starting a war with Shelvak, risking the lives of thousands of Alametrians. He could have everyone on the planet doing his dark bidding.

  She could never let that happen. She would sacrifice her body to Vycor’s torture, but never her mind.

  Not even if it killed her.

  CHAPTER 37

  Gren and Sem had to help Ty to his feet when Gren finally arrived with a contingent of Mynders and rescued them. Ty struggled to regain his equilibrium, knowing he had to get to Kyr. The immobilizing pain made it almost impossible.

  “Jesus, Ty,” Sem said, using Earth vernacular in his shock. “You look like shit. Your nose is bleeding all over the place. What the hell happened to you?”

  Absently wiping at his face with the front of his shirt, he explained, “It isn’t happening to me. It’s happening to Kyr.”

  “What?”

  Ty closed his eyes for a moment and did what
he could to distance himself from what Kyr was experiencing. That was his only hope of getting to her.

  Within seconds, he was shoving past Sem and Gren and running out of the cell. He followed the map in his head, cutting through the kitchens and a guest’s bed chamber to save time. His feet moved faster than his brain, propelling him forward like a motorized vehicle. People shouted and jumped out of the way when they saw him coming. He didn’t spare any of them a backward glance.

  Moments later, the doors to the Ritual Chamber came into sight. The Mynders standing there lifted their de’llums when they spotted him. Ty reached to his side for his own weapon only to realize it had been taken from him.

  Get the hell out of my way! he boomed at them with his mind, the full power of the Dem-Shyr behind it.

  They moved.

  Open the goddamn door, he ordered to the Mynders on the other side of it.

  The doors opened.

  He raced through them, his gaze sweeping the chamber. Then he staggered to a halt.

  Kyr was lying spread-eagle on the altar, her once-white gown stained with blood. Four Mynders stood over her, bloody implements in their hands. Ty directed his rage at them first, sending them screaming in agony to their knees with a single thought. Every one of their faces etched itself into his mind to deal with later.

  He walked past them, heading right towards Vycor. When the crowd started to rise, he shouted at them with his mind until they all sat back down. He’d never felt so much power flowing through him.

  “Release Ma’jah Kyr, VycorDane,” Ty commanded, knowing better than to try and infiltrate the other Mynder’s head while he was inside Kyr’s. The results would be devastating. “By order of the Dem-Shyr, release her now.”

  But Vycor knew if he did, Ty would kill him. Everyone in the room knew it.

  Ty wasn’t about to stand there watching Vycor continue his assault. Closing his eyes, he opened his connection to Kyr. He braced himself on the edge of the altar as her excruciating pain hit him. He bowed his head and concentrated.