“You didn’t tell me all of it before, Em,” Erin cried.
Emerald swallowed hard, as if she were having trouble even speaking. “I didn’t want you to worry aboot it all when I wasn’t completely sure about the details. Meggie’s never had a vision before. I didn’t have my visions until I was older. Eighteen. I canna imagine what this is doing to her. She is still so innocent. She’s barely ten.”
Annette went and wrapped her arms around Emerald. “I am so sorry that she went through it. Is there any way to make them stop?”
Emerald shook her head and pulled back from her. “The Druids are never kind.”
“Can these monsters get any more evil?” Erin gasped, her face pale with the impact of it all. “Tsaras, Underlings, undead zombies, demons—Heldon and his army seems too big. There’s no safe place for any of us.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, luv,” Emerald said. “I swear on me mother’s angel wings that there’s more good than evil aboot us. And they are fighting every minute against anything that would steal away goodness and life. Then there’s the good magic. You can see it growing stronger around us.”
“Yes.” Erin sighed.
“Is that why the trees and the grass and the bushes are all so unbelievably green?” Annette asked.
Emerald nodded.
“What is this place, anyway?”
“An old, retired ranger station. Sam came up with the idea of using it this morning. Because it’s so close to the Sacred Stones, I can pull from the power of the ancients and the spirits on Spirit Wind Mountain to protect us here. Now we best get you two ready to go to Belize before the men sneak off without you.”
“They wouldn’t dare,” Annette muttered.
“This is Sam and Jared we’re talking about,” Erin said.
“And Aragon,” Annette added. “You’re right, Em. Though patterned differently, all three of them are cut from the same macho cloth.”
“After what he said today, I’m hanging Sam out to dry,” Emerald said.
“Believe it or not, I think he got the point,” Annette replied.
Emerald shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t have the strength to argue with him. I can’t allow him to hurt me anymore. I have to focus on Meggie and on the magic now.”
Annette didn’t try to change Emerald’s mind at the moment. She could see that her friend was doing all that she could, and it wouldn’t hurt Sam to be out in the cold a bit either. But then, they all might just end up like that, she thought, recalling Pathos’s chilling touch. Belize might be a tropical locale, but Annette had a feeling that their destination would be a freezing hell.
Chapter Twenty
S AM BIT DOWN on his bottom lip hard, drawing blood. He watched Emerald march away, a mass of hurt that he’d laid open. His body was covered in a cold sweat. God. The thought of Vasquez getting his hands on any one of the women did more than leave Sam filled with dread. It eviscerated him, exposing all of the agonizing fear that shackled him to his nightmares. He already bled with his every breath. How could he take any more?
The slow burn at the base of his skull sent a ripple of pain down his spine. Shit. It was freaking daylight. That he wouldn’t even have the shadows of night to hide in this time seemed to cut him off at the knees.
“I’m scouting the perimeter,” he muttered to Jared.
“Need help?” Jared asked, narrowing his gaze at him.
Sam pretended to be checking something out in the sky. “No. I can handle it. Be back shortly.” He didn’t wait for a reply before he took off at a dead run. He ran until he couldn’t breathe. He ran until the pain stabbing down his spine paralyzed his legs and rendered him a convulsing mass of agony on the forest floor. Pine needles bit into his face and dirt ground between his teeth, but it was the stench of death and suffering that had him gagging. And the vision of the poor woman he’d seen staked to the ground that had him dying inside.
She’d tried to help him escape, and for two days, he’d been hanging in a tree watching what the men and the animals did to kill her as painfully and as slowly as possible.
By the time he’d relived her death, he was sobbing. He’d rolled into a fetal ball and could do nothing but cry. He was scared shitless and wasn’t even sure he could crawl back to camp, much less walk like a man.
He’d thought his life became a living hell when he’d sworn to keep his hands off the one man who most deserved his revenge. But he was wrong. Living hell was finally getting the chance to kill that man and realizing he didn’t have the balls to face him.
A string of Mozart’s concertos played softly in the darkened room where Pathos reclined in a meditative state. He’d let his lust and his rage get the best of him, and it was time to reclaim himself from the doctor’s scorching grasp. He’d still have her, but the possession would be a cold deliberation and not a hot slaking of desire.
First he had a battle to fight. Vasquez had left in the middle of the night—a slap in Pathos’s face, one that now forced Pathos to eliminate him and take the Elan blood supply back from the bastard.
Pathos had learned the merits of centering oneself before war long ago. Listening to the intricately composed melodies with his eyes closed brought back memories of that golden time in his earthly existence when as a predator he’d reigned supreme. In Europe his senses had been at a peak; the late-night soirees and courtly games, followed by nightly hunts to satisfy all of his fleshy hungers, whether as a beast rampaging through the forest or a man slaking his lust. Those were the times—times that could never be recaptured, now that technology and culture had altered man and his world past such vulnerability.
As his mind drifted, searching for the icy calm that served him so well, he found himself recalling a different life in another realm. He’d existed as a creature of both good and evil, and he always excelled, simply because he could do no less. Both sides were all about possessing mortal souls. Logos, of course, was hot for purity, Heldon for cold evil. Pathos didn’t see the point in either, and he knew neither would win. In the end his way would prevail. Moderation was the key. On the whole, mortals were a selfish, lazy lot and would prefer not to have to make a choice between anything. Pathos would give them that option. He’d perpetuate an existence in the middle where no path had to be followed but for one: his. He required neither purity nor evil to be propagated, but subservience to his will was essential, a fact he had to reaffirm now with the Vladarians.
“It’s time to leave,” Cinatas said, stepping into the room.
“Good.” Pathos stood, his fist clenching like a vise.
“Samir left with Vasquez, as well.”
“Excellent. I’ll enjoy getting rid of the spineless prick now. Any others?”
“No.”
“Wellbourne?”
“Is content for now. But we’ll have to watch him. I think he suspects Shashur’s demise wasn’t from tainted Elan blood. So I’ll just have to come up with several Elan and ‘taint’ them to give him the proof he needs.”
“You don’t need to explain yourself to him,” Pathos said, scowling.
“No, but it will strengthen my power to have them shaking in their fangs.”
Pathos clasped Cinatas’s shoulder. “I’m really looking forward to your reign, son.” Life hadn’t been this interesting in centuries, he thought, and what he would do to teach Dr. Batista a bedside manner she’d never forget made it even better.
He knew where she and her friends were now. They thought they were safe. Thought they had enough power to fight him. But they had no idea what he could unleash. He’d show them just as soon as he returned from Belize.
Having bathed and dressed in what he’d been told were “jeans” and a “pullover,” Aragon went in search of Jared. While not binding his every movement, the clothes chafed at his body and spirit, inhibiting his freedom and exacerbating the tension inside him.
Something was wrong. But then, having to tell Jared how right he’d been about Aragon’s obsessi
on with Pathos twisted his insides in knots. He could now see how it had skewed his actions as a warrior and his decisions as a leader.
He found Jared in deep concentration near the spot where the power of the ancients was being funneled to fuel the green-eyed woman’s magic. Aragon stood quiet a moment, absorbing what Jared had to be observing. The magic flowing past them was like a fierce wind. He had to brace himself against the strength of it, at odds with the calm in the mortal world, where only a slight fluttering wind riffled through the trees. The fullness of the sun hit directly overhead, warming the creatures with the bounty of Logos’s creation. Even the petals of the soft-hued flowers growing amid the Sacred Stones barely swayed as they basked in the life-giving light.
Without turning, Jared spoke. “What do you suppose the source of her magic is? When I first met her, I feared she might have a connection to Heldon’s power. Those upon the mortal ground have been so easily deceived by following the lure of his misuse of magic. Yet at every turn she has proven herself true. Still I question. When I suggested that the Sacred Stones might provide sanctuary, I had not expected this. She kept the strength of her power well hidden, which makes me question even more. Any thoughts?”
Aragon paused as a dearly missed sense of the familiar wrapped around him. He and Jared had always sought each other’s opinions, and as leader of the Blood Hunters Aragon often relied on Jared’s consensus before bringing a plan to the brethren. That Jared still sought his counsel after all the mistakes Aragon had made was humbling.
“It is a warrior’s responsibility to question the unknowns until they are known. As to her power…after we spoke last, I crossed the spirit barrier and went directly to the eastern heavens. I stood before the gates of the angels’ domain in the heart of the inner circle. I went to inquire of Annette’s sister and spoke directly to an angel—something I’ve never done before.”
“Nor I.” Jared turned to face him then. “Has any other warrior even gone to the angels’ gates?”
Aragon shrugged. “She knew of my shame and showed no surprise at my presence until she learned of my quest. I tell you this because the tinkling bells of the angels exactly matches the sound of the magic woman’s bracelets. That can mean only one thing.” No heavenly tone could be heard on earth unless it had been bestowed.
Jared’s eyes widened. “Angel power. I hadn’t even considered it possible. That would mean either Logos has placed her upon the earth for a purpose, or…she’s like me. Fallen.”
“An extremely rare situation, as the angels haven’t been in battle since Logos elevated them to their roles as Soul Keepers.”
“True. So if the source of her power truly is the heavens, then why does she speak of the Druids so often?”
“Perhaps she does not want the true source of her power revealed.”
“It is something to consider, and a better explanation than any I have determined. It would account for the strength of her magic and why it could even temper the moon’s pull on my were-being.”
“Then this pull to savagery beneath the moon is common? I never experienced it within the mortal world until this time.”
“Nor I until I became…” Jared sharpened his gaze before he finished his sentence. “Mortal. Do you think that before punishment a faded warrior becomes mortal?”
Aragon grunted, thinking about all the things he’d felt since throwing aside his amulet. “It is possible. I experienced things that I have never before, as if my presence upon the mortal ground was more solid than ever. But then, I think Annette’s possession of my amulet has something to do with it as well.” His gaze drifted to the Sacred Stones, where everything between them had started just a little over two nights ago. As many millennia as he’d lived, and as many experiences as he’d known, still nothing compared to her, and he barely knew her.
“I saw that she had your amulet when we left the Sacred Stones that day,” Jared said.
Caught by surprise, Aragon jerked his gaze back, wincing at the muscle in his shoulder that pained. “You did? And you let her keep it? Why?”
“Well, as tightly as she held the thing, it would have taken a full-scale battle to pry it from her hand. And perhaps in the back of my mind I thought you and the good doctor needed a dose of each other, should your amulet open a communication channel between you as it does between the brethren. By the looks of things, it did.” Jared’s words were tempered by the glint of humor in his gaze.
“It did more than that. Did you know the amulet had the power to call me forth to whoever is in possession of it?”
“Truly?” Jared’s eyes widened, then crinkled with laughter. “She called you to her?”
“Several times. The second time she inadvertently shifted me, right in the middle of an attack on Pathos, into her bath.” Aragon paused, then frowned. “I had the fulfillment of my quest in the palm of my hand, and then it was gone.” He narrowed his gaze at Jared. “So you could have prevented all that has happened between me and the mortal woman? I have you to blame for everything?”
Jared’s brow lifted. “No more than I have you to blame for my involvement with Erin.”
Aragon stared hard at Jared, who stared hard back. Then Aragon flung his head back and roared with laughter, managing to cuff Jared playfully on the arm. “She’s the best thing I have ever known. Do these mortal men know how good they have it?”
Jared shook his head, grinning from ear to ear. “It doesn’t seem as if they do.” He drew a bracing breath. “So you are not angry?”
“No. You were right about my obsession with Pathos. There are more important things than eliminating evil. For a warrior not to see that, he must be partially blinded by evil himself. I will find Annette’s sister and then seek out Pathos. And when I meet him in battle, I will do all within my power to vanquish him, but I will not sacrifice greater things for the opportunity to do so. After, I will go face the Guardian Council’s punishment for my actions.”
“What was their decision?”
“It doesn’t matter. I am honor bound to face it, and there are more important things I need to tell you. The mountain fortress where Pathos carried Annette is so saturated with dark magic that a pathway to the damned has formed. Hundreds of Underlings prowl the grounds. There are too many congregated there for so few of us to face. I fear tonight we may encounter the same.”
“I know. Sam and I were there, trying to get to Annette. We were nearly food for the Underling horde. As for their presence in Belize, we’ll have to see. Pathos will not be expecting an attack upon the Vladarian Vasquez. Surprise will be in our favor. From what I have learned, Vasquez is heavily immersed in the military, but also very comfortable in his little kingdom.”
“In this fight you are the few against the great many. Logos needs more warriors who are aware of the real battle being fought upon the mortal ground.”
“My opinion exactly, and I have to wonder if my journey to this point was not predestined.”
“You mean Logos had you poisoned by a Tsara?”
Jared shrugged. “Let’s say he may have simply let happen what Heldon had orchestrated. Who knows? To fight this evil we will need to target the Vladarians one at a time and create as much dissension as we can among their ranks.”
Aragon grunted. “You mean attack in our were-forms and make them think Pathos is behind it?”
Jared sighed. “Would that I could. My death and rebirth at the Sacred Stones altered my were-form. I can’t shift into my wolf’s cloak anymore, but I still have the heightened senses and some of my were-strengths, especially during the moon’s pull.”
“I have noticed the moon’s effect upon me,” Aragon admitted, then hesitated. “It seems to be growing worse.”
Jared leveled his gaze on him. “Worse how? With me, the combination of the Tsara’s poison and the effects of the moon made me mindless. I had no control over any of my were-magic, and the only thing that eased my situation was Erin’s touch and presence. Are the effects of the moon beyond
your control?”
Rolling his shoulder from the nagging Underling injury, Aragon replayed in his mind what had happened to him on the cliff. Surely his lack of control was due to the dark magic saturating the area. “No,” he said. “I can control it.” Besides, he had a gut feeling that tonight would be the last time he’d need to suppress any savage urges. Once Stefanie was located, all that remained between him and the council’s judgment was Pathos. And Aragon knew where to find him now. “Then we’ll strike at the moon’s zenith tonight, when our were-gifts are the strongest?”
“Just before midnight,” Jared concurred. “The hardest part will be making Erin and Annette stay out of it. I war between deciding if they would be safer with us or apart.”
Aragon shrugged his shoulders, wondering why Jared considered something so routine to be difficult. “I would think there is more danger in battle with us. We are the warriors. We will just command them to remain where they are safe.”
“You and Annette haven’t spent a lot of your short time together talking, have you?”
“We’ve spoken some.”
Jared couldn’t supress a bark of laughter. “It’s time for lunch, and I’m starving. Peach cobbler’s in the oven, and you don’t want to miss that. Let’s head back, and I’ll tell you about the creature known as mortal woman. To command is the kiss of death, but if you seduce her into what you want, make her think it is her idea in the first place, you’ll get what you want plus all the heaven any being can take.”
When Sven arrived with Sirius at the center of the Pyrathian circle, they found York and Draysius in a heated argument. Navarre lay still as death on the ground between them. Other Pyrathians had gathered around them, but none were intervening in the situation.
York shouted, his anger so hot that sparks flew from his spirit form, “I know you can do it. Take back your fire before his soul is too damaged to survive. I cannot save him alone, and he doesn’t deserve to die at the misguided hand of a supposed brother!”
The Lure of the Wolf Page 27