The Phantom King (The Kings)

by Heather Killough-Walden

  Chapter Eleven

  Marius, the Akyri King, knew well that he was treading on thin ice. The being he now approached was unlike any he had ever so much as looked at, which wasn’t saying much, as so far he couldn’t really see anything. It was dark up ahead.

  He was taking a great chance in coming here. But he’d been given information so valuable, a chance so rare and precious, to ignore it would probably have been a grave mistake. Especially now – now that he could feel the other twelve of the thirteen sovereigns getting edgy. Namely, D’Angelo.

  It wouldn’t be long before the Vampire King stepped in, and when he did, Marius would have the fight of his life on his hands.

  This would help him avoid it. It would help him get what he wanted now – and in the long run.

  When Marius had gone after the red-headed warlock, Siobhan, he’d wound up facing off with a mortal who Marius was no longer so certain was only mortal. A fight had ensued; the man had been a cop, and well trained in the art of combat. He’d given Marius a run for his money, and in the end, the entire ordeal had been a bust in more ways than one.

  The struggle had drained Marius more than usual. He’d cornered the human and begun to destroy him with a conflagration spell when an odd sensation had assaulted him. He enveloped the mortal in a killing blaze, and as he did so, he had the strangest feeling… that he was killing himself.

  It was off-putting enough that Marius pulled back at the very last moment, withdrawing the final elements of his spell. The damage he’d done was more than adequate to kill a human. And if his opponent was human, he would be no more than a spirit now and no doubt inhabiting the Phantom King’s miserable realm. He was out of the way, and that had been the point.

  However, if he was not human, if there was the slightest chance that Marius’ feeling about the man was on the mark and he truly was some kind of Akyri despite the shell of humanity he wore, then he would survive. His mortal form would disappear and he would undergo changes as the humanity in him was sloughed off. After a brief recovery period in which he would no doubt need to absorb the power of a warlock, he would return to being as he was, if a bit more powerful than before. A bit less human and a touch more Akyri.

  The problem was, issuing this spell and then pulling back on it as he had was untowardly hard on Marius. He’d needed sustenance after the cop had disappeared and the fire had settled – and the little warlock he’d come for was nowhere to be found. This further disappointment served to anger Marius enough that he proceeded to destroy the house around him before leaving the area.

  He’d lost on two counts.

  And now he not only felt denied, he felt vengeful. He’d tried to return to take her many times. Her power, so dark and sparkling and pure, pulled at him as no other magic ever had. But each time he located her – during her move, in her new home – it was there. Some sort of force field, keeping him out.

  Enough was enough.

  Last night, he’d had a dream about a figure on a dark throne. In the dream, he’d been given a great gift. He’d tasted magic upon his tongue, in his bones, coursing through his veins. It had been her magic. In the dream, he’d won. And she was his.

  The figure on the throne would give him the power he needed to get past the force field and take what he wanted. And that was why he was here, standing at the opening of a hidden cave and gazing across a torch-lit expanse at a darkness that would grant him his deepest desires.

  He could see nothing in that depthless black, so out of respect and a touch of fear he hoped did not show, Marius bowed his head.

  “I told you others would come,” came a female voice.

  Marius’ head snapped up, his cold eyes sparking like the sun glinting off an ice berg. The darkness had lifted a little and he could now make a few things out.

  A woman he hadn’t seen before stood beside the stone-hewn throne across the cavernous chamber. She was incredibly beautiful, from her thick ebon hair, pale skin, and red lips to the tall, voluptuous body below and the provocative manner in which it was dressed.

  She was also a vampire.

  Centuries as the Akyri King afforded Marius many things, not the least of which was the ability to identify supernatural beings on sight.

  The vampire woman smirked at him, her crimson lips turned up in that secret smile so many vampires had down to an art. Her dark blue eyes gave off an unnatural light. She was hungry. It was a look he knew well.

  Beside her, in the shadows of a massive pitch-black throne apparently carved out of obsidian or onyx, a figure in a black robe stirred. It was the slightest of movements, and yet the air in the cavern moved with him. It shifted as he did, almost flickering as if he’d disrupted the balance of ions in the atmosphere.

  Marius swallowed. It made a very audible sound in the unnatural silence.

  The woman leaned toward the figure as if listening. Marius heard nothing, but a moment later, she straightened and her smile expanded, giving him a glimpse of her fangs. She left the throne’s side and made her way down the stone steps of the raised dais, her heels clicking on the rock.

  “My lord has decided to grant your request,” she told him.

  His gaze narrowed. I haven’t asked yet.

  “No need,” she said as if she could read his mind. He was an Akyri, and hence born on the same warlock magic that ran through a vampire’s veins. The advantage was that most vampires could not read his mind. Roman D’Angelo was a notable exception.

  Perhaps this woman was as well.

  “My lord knows what it is that you want, and he believes that giving it to you would prove beneficial where everyone is concerned.” She stopped a few feet from him and lowered her gaze to take him in from head to toe. “Especially for him,” she finished. Her tone had taken on a sultry note.

  “Can you read my mind, Offspring?” Marius asked her point-blank, referring to her by the other name vampires were known as in the supernatural world. “Offspring” was not as formal as “vampire,” and a little derogatory since it insinuated that a vampire was nothing more than the product of someone else’s roll in the hay. However, he kept the level of his voice personal. There was no need to raise it; vampires had excellent hearing.

  The woman cocked her head to one side and her smile broadened. Her eyes were beginning to glow. “I can.”

  “Then I can see you’ve had a few wishes granted yourself,” Marius wagered.

  She chuckled, the sound enticing. “I have. You saw this in a dream, did you not?” She gestured to the room and the dark throne behind her. “So did I. This is my destiny, and it is clearly also yours.”

  Marius said nothing.

  “The rewards for your servitude will be many, Akyri King,” the woman continued. She raised her hand and gently trailed a fingernail along his jaw line. “You have no idea.”

  Marius looked from her to the dark, shadowy figure upon the throne that had yet to move again. “Oh, I think I do.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Phantom King? Siobhan thought. Had she heard that correctly? She had little time to consider it, because a foreboding was uncoiling within her. A tight knot of dark fate was coming loose, painful in its whiplash unraveling. Something bad was about to happen.

  Thanatos had turned and was facing Steven now, and the tension in the air between them was palpable.

  “You don’t belong here, Lazarus,” Thanatos said.

  “Are you absolutely positive about that?” Steven asked. His tone had lowered and was laced with a calm certainty that she’d never heard him use before. There was something different about him, something that Siobhan couldn’t put her finger on. He was not only as solid as he’d been before his death, he also seemed… taller? She frowned. It felt like his presence had become more powerful, his aura brighter. He was more there than he’d ever been, even in life.

  In front of her, Thanatos seemed to notice something about the former detective as well. He hesitated, and his sparking gray gaze slid down Steven’s form, conside
ring it with keen care.

  Siobhan sidled around Thane, watching them both with abject interest. Her heart hammered and every neuron in her brain screamed for her to leave that mansion, but her body refused to listen. Her feet were heavy and her eyes were glued to the two men before her, both of whom were so strong, so very male, the entire living room was practically pulsing with testosterone.

  “I can’t let you remain here, detective. I’m sorry. You were sent to my realm for a reason.”

  “I’m sure I was,” Steven agreed. “But I was also sent back here.” He paused, took a few casual steps as if to meet Thanatos somewhere in the middle of all of that electric tension, and added, “Wasn’t I?”

  Thanatos considered his words in silence. Siobhan held her breath.

  “I’ll make you a deal, detective,” he finally said. “Come back with me now, and if you happen to pop out again and zap right back here, then so be it. It will no longer be my problem.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Steven replied with a shake of his head. He sounded just like Thanatos had when he’d refused to leave her front door. “The only thing keeping that demon from returning for Siobhan is my presence here.”

  Thanatos’ gaze narrowed. He glanced over at Siobhan, his eyes catching and holding hers with brute force. “The demon?”

  Siobhan cleared her throat. “The one who killed Steven.” She tore her gaze from the stranger’s, though it was decidedly difficult, and looked up at Steven. “The reason he hasn’t come back for me is because of you?” This was news to her as well.

  But it made perfect sense. She’d been wondering why he hadn’t returned.

  Steven seemed torn. “I hadn’t wanted to tell you. But he promised to return for you, and though I have no idea how or why, I know that by being here, my spirit is keeping him at bay.”

  “Your spirit,” Thanatos said, returning his gaze to the former detective. “Is looking curiously solid these days.”

  It was a statement of fact and a curiosity given voice, but since there didn’t seem to be any kind of response for the observation, everyone remained quiet.

  Siobhan’s attention returned to what Steven had just said. Was he really keeping the demon away? Was that why she was so afraid? Despite the roughness of his edges and the heady weight of his very presence, it really was clear to Siobhan that Thanatos meant her no harm. He wasn’t here for her, he was here for Steven. So why was she so afraid? Unless what Steven was saying was true and the moment he disappeared, the demon would show up and fry her to a crisp.

  “Why is it after me?” she asked. She hadn’t meant to voice the question aloud, and as soon as she spoke it, she regretted it. For one thing, she didn’t want to remind Steven that he’d died because of her, however indirectly. And for another, she almost didn’t want to know why the demon was after her.

  Thanatos watched Siobhan, and she felt her own gaze returning to his. It was unnerving in a terribly delicious way to be studied so carefully by such a man. She wanted it to stop. And she really, really didn’t.

  “Tell me about him,” he commanded softly.

  Siobhan blinked. Whether he was speaking to her or Steven, she couldn’t tell. He was looking at her – but Steven was clearly more qualified to describe his attacker.

  “He’s… he’s blonde,” she stammered, giving him the only detail she really knew.

  “He had blue eyes until he began attacking. Then they were red,” Steven picked up, stealing Thane’s attention and taking the weight of his gaze off of her at last.

  Thane straightened. “Go on.”

  “Tall,” Steven continued. “Around our height.”

  Siobhan realized then that Steven and the stranger were nearly head to head, toe to toe. Their builds were similar as well. Both were incredibly good looking men, but Thane did something to Siobhan’s insides that Steven never had – and she’d barely met the man.

  “He had powers much like Siobhan’s,” Steven said, looking at her. A worried and slightly guilty expression came across his face. “He blew the door off its hinges with a single spoken word.”

  Siobhan felt a fury build inside of her. “I’ve never done anything like that in my life!”

  “No,” said Steven. “But you could.”

  The fury intensified. “How would you know?” She looked from Steven to Thanatos, who was watching her in silence, the swirling silver of his eyes taking everything in.

  She turned her attention back to Steven. “And why didn’t you tell me about this, Steven?” she demanded. “How could you not mention something like this to me? The fact that he was a magic user like I am? That’s… that’s….” Essential, she thought.

  And so wrong. What did it mean? Did it mean that the demon was actually just a warlock? That someone like her and not a fire-breathing monster had been evil enough to utterly destroy her ex-boyfriend?

  “And that’s why I didn’t tell you,” Steven said quietly. “Never would I equate you with the beast that killed me, Siobhan. But I knew you would feel differently. You’re the most head strong woman I’ve ever met.” He shook his head, ran a hand through his blonde hair, and looked so very real, so very not dead in that moment, Siobhan temporarily forgot he’d ever been killed.

  He went on. “I also knew that if I gave you any information at all about the killer, you would stop waiting around for him to show up and go after him yourself.”

  Siobhan’s mouth opened.

  And then shut again. She blinked. She shifted her weight to her other foot. And then she exhaled sharply.

  He was right.

  “Admit it,” he said. “You’d have been out of here the moment I turned my back. And believe me when I tell you that you do not want to go up against this man, Siobhan. “He’ll eat you for breakfast.”

  “I’m guessing that’s exactly what he has in mind,” Thanatos cut in. His deep voice was so unexpected in the tension of their conversation, it was instantly entrapping. It was also soothing, like a salve on the raw edge of her fear.

  She looked at him. Steven looked at him. They both waited.

  “Your demon is an Akyri.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I actually can’t believe I didn’t realize it before,” said Thane.

  “An Akyri….” Siobhan whispered. The demons who fed off of magic – magic like hers. “That’s why it was here. It wanted my magic.”

  “You know about Akyri?” Thane asked.

  Siobhan bit her lip, wondered how much she should tell the man, and then said, “Steven called you the Phantom King. Why?”

  Now it was obviously his turn to wonder how much information should be shared. But he must have been more willing to come clean with her than she was with him because he said, “It’s what I am. I rule the Anime plane, a world where the spirits of those who have died wrongful deaths are sent. Over the years, these spirits have been called many things, one of them ‘phantoms.’ Hence, my title.”

  He watched her as she tried to digest the information, but there was just too much of it and she’d barely begun to process how many years he must have been talking about when he said, “Now tell me what you know.”

  She blinked. “What?”

  “About the Akyri,” he continued. He’d given her his full attention, his body turned toward her now, his eyes burning a hole through her.

  Steven, for his part, remained where he was in front of the door. She chanced a glance in his direction. He was watching her as well, and he looked a little surprised. The fact that she knew about the Akyri was news to him too.

  Siobhan took a deep breath, ran a hand through her hair, and winced when it caught on a knot. Then she told them everything. She told them about her childhood, how she’d hidden what she was from those around her, and about the Akyri she’d met over the years.

  By the time she was finished, they’d turned on the hallway and living room lights and she was sitting on the love seat in the living room, her hands in her lap. Across from her, Than
e was leaning against the side of the couch, his arms crossed over his chest. Steven stood in the archway that led to the kitchen and had his hands on his hips.

  “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” he asked.

  Siobhan gave him a dead-pan look. She was a witch. She was talking about demons. “Figure it out, detective.”

  Steven’s blue eyes narrowed. Siobhan looked away and found herself caught in Thane’s gaze again. He was smiling. It was an incredibly hot look on him, even if his canines were slightly longer than they should have been. At least the fangs had retreated.

  Fangs. The man has got teeth on him.

  And then, just like that, his smile was gone. His eyes were widening. He tore his attention from her and looked up at Steven. “Holy shit,” he whispered. “I think I know why you’re keeping the Akyri from returning.”

  Steven’s hands dropped, his expression both alarmed and eager.

  “You’re an orphan, is that right?” Thanatos asked as he came off of the couch and uncrossed his arms.

  Steven nodded. “So?”

  Thane studied him for a moment in secret silence and Siobhan could see he was chewing on the inside of his cheek as if weighing some kind of decision. A hint of a smile was back as he finally said to himself, “Well there’s only one way to know, Thane.”

  With that, he raised his right hand. Power pooled in his palm. She instantly recognized it as the magic she had used on him; it had the same look and feel to it. It bore her signature the way a portrait does its painter’s. Her magic now returned to the world, building in the grip of Thane’s hand as if he’d simply absorbed it and pocketed it away for later.

  Steven looked down at it nervously. “What are you doing?”

  “Testing a theory.” Thane raised his right hand and hurled the swirling, sparkling black mass at Steven.

  The detective didn’t have time to dodge or run. Instead, he did the only thing he could do. He raised both arms in front of himself like a shield.

  Siobhan felt her eyes widen with disbelief as her magic slammed into Steven, but instead of blowing him to smithereens, as she’d originally meant for the bolt of power to do, it cascaded over his arms… and then sank into his form.