by Tessa Dawn
Noiro blinked several times, her eyes growing wide with disbelief. She thought about his words for a moment, no doubt trying to decipher the different ebbs and flows of energy to discern the truth. And then her expression softened. “You’re telling the truth.”
Nachari smiled. “Yes, Noiro…I am.”
She licked her lips. ”Then…then you are asking—”
“You know exactly what I’m asking: Go to the Southern province and find a scorpion; travel to the West and bring me a spider; complete your tour in the North and provide me with a snake, and don’t come back until you are ready to leave this realm. You only have eight days, Noiro”—he thought of a plausible lie—“eight days before the moon and the sun and the elements of my planet render me too weak to pierce the barrier between our worlds; but if you do this thing before then, I promise, I will open up the portal between this world and the next and take you with me in order to bear a son. You have seen a glimpse of my power; you know I can make it happen. On all that is holy, I swear this to you.”
It was true.
Gods willing, he would open up the portal to the next world, and he would take her with him, and his purpose would indeed be to bear a son…
With Deanna.
Noiro studied his face for a frozen moment. When she finally spoke, she whispered, “Swear it on the name of your god—every word—and offer your immortal soul in exchange for the truth of your words.”
Without hesitation, Nachari grasped her by both shoulders and looked deep in her eyes. “I swear to you on the name of the great god of Celestial light, Perseus, the Victorious Hero, the ruling lord of my birth, my life, and my death: I will open a portal between our worlds and take you with me, Noiro, so that I might sire a son. And if the words I speak are untrue, then I forfeit my immortal soul to the very god whose name I swear by. May he strike me down without mercy for my desecration.”
Noiro stared at him suspiciously—and thank the Celestial lords, she was too beaten, confused, and desperate to really decipher his words.
She finally relented. “If what you say is true, Wizard, then prove it: mate with me now.”
Nachari didn’t cringe…or blink.
Everything he had ever wanted—his life on earth, Braden and his brothers, meeting and claiming his destiny—was on the line. Still, he could never betray Deanna in such a way. To one day place his body inside of Deanna’s after being somewhere so vile…so corrupt…first.
It was unthinkable.
Unfathomable.
But what he could do, he would.
Nachari would enter Noiro’s mind, change and erase her perceptions, and implant memories of his own choosing. For the first time since he had arrived in the Valley of Death and Shadows, he had the energetic advantage: Noiro was weak, pliant, and at his mercy. And he was the one with the power.
Thanks to Ademordna’s rage.
Would wonders never cease?
He bent to her mouth, ignoring the spiked teeth and forked tongue that distended to greet him, and pressed his lips to hers, kissing the demon witch like his life depended upon it…because it did.
As he gathered the energy from the magic web he had already spun, he couldn’t help but think, Oh yes, he would penetrate the hideous demoness all right, but it wouldn’t be his seed that filled her. He would empty the seeds of Ademordna’s hatred, vengeance, and unyielding rage deep inside of her being—the intention he had captured in a spider’s web during the evil one’s murderous fury—and he would turn every last ounce against the Supreme ruler of the Middle Kingdom himself.
Noiro would not stray from Nachari’s plan—no matter the cost.
She would burn with a pregnant hatred, blister with the need to destroy, up until the very moment the two of them took flight from the evil realm…
Together.
Ademordna had guaranteed it with his rage.
eighteen
The Next Day
Saber knocked on the heavy wooden door just outside Salvatore Nistor’s private lair. When the large, medieval-looking hatch flew open on its own, he strolled in casually. “What’s up, Salvatore,” he said, glancing around the room. While adorned with large antique furnishings, a massive chandelier, and an equally ostentatious iron bed, the lair still reflected its ancient, underground roots: Stalactites hung from the ceiling in naturally occurring formations, and stalagmites sprung forth from the earthen, clay floor, peeking out from beneath dark, random crevices.
“Ah, Saber, so nice to see you.” Salvatore bowed infinitesimally from the waist. “Thank you for coming.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Saber replied, stopping a few feet in front of the aged sorcerer and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I assume Oskar filled you in on the details—what I learned from the redhead during my last visit—so why don’t we cut through the niceties and get straight to the point.”
Salvatore shrugged slowly and smiled languidly, still taking his time. “I rarely rush anything, Saber—it’s just not my style.”
Saber shifted his weight impatiently. “Yeah, well, every second we stand here is another second Nachari Silivasi may be growing stronger—another second his destiny is running around Dark Moon Vale, healthy and alive.”
Salvatore declined his head in an understanding gesture. “Indeed,” he drawled. He swept his arm out, gesturing toward a large red sectional, discreetly appointed toward the back of the room in front of a giant flat-screen TV. “Nonetheless, allow me to at least act like a gracious host. Have a seat.”
Saber sauntered over to the large davenport, sat down, and bent his left leg over his right, leaning back into the plush, expensive fabric. From his new vantage point, he could see Salvatore’s enormous iron bed, perched atop a large raised platform, and the bizarre divining cube that sat like a crude relic on the nightstand beside it. The thing gave him the willies; it was glowing like the Northern lights—for all the good it had done them. “Why do you keep that thing, anyways?” Saber asked, unable to help himself.
Salvatore cringed as if the very words spoken aloud might offend the ridiculous object. “Watch yourself, my friend—darkness hears…very well.”
Saber raised one eyebrow, watched the cube for any sign of sentience, and shook his head. “Ah’ight—whatever.” He slowly rolled his shoulders. “So, back to Kristina then—or more importantly, our brothers who walk in the sun. What’s next?” Before Salvatore could answer, he leaned forward and added, “Because I have to tell you, I’ve had just about enough of all this the spy who loved me crap. Not getting us anywhere in my opinion.”
Salvatore took a seat opposite Saber in a high-backed armchair and sighed. “Agreed. It is definitely time to change tactics.”
Saber’s ears perked up. Finally. “And?”
“And you are right, my impatient subject—Nachari and his newly arrived destiny are a much more pressing issue.”
Saber nodded, liking where the conversation was going. Well, everything except the part where Salvatore referred to him as his subject—impatient or not. As far as he was concerned, he served the house of Jaegar because it was his home—and the males were his brethren, so to speak—but last he’d checked, he wasn’t anybody’s subject. And never would be. “So, what’s the plan?”
Salvatore folded his hands in his lap and looked off into the distance, considering; and then a wickedly conniving smile curved the corners of his mouth. “No more dilly-dallying around. You will use your connection to Kristina to strike at Deanna.” He met Saber’s eyes and practically purred his next words: “Get Nachari’s destiny away from the Silivasis and kill her.” He smiled broadly then. “Is that clear and direct enough for you, Mr. Alexiares?”
Saber licked his bottom lip and chuckled. “Yep. That does it for me.”
“Good.” Salvatore nodded, pleased. “Now then”—he inclined his head toward Saber’s hip pocket, indicating the untraceable cell phone they had programmed for his ongoing dalliance with the redheaded ditz, and raised his shoulders—�
�there’s no time like the present, correct?”
Saber chuckled, thinking of a plan. “Couldn’t agree more,” he said, removing the cell from his pocket. He pressed a finger to his lips, warning Salvatore to remain quiet, while he retrieved Kristina’s number and hit the dial button.
The phone rang three times before she picked up.
“Hey, baby girl,” he drawled into the phone. “It’s Ramsey—miss me?”
She said something less than ladylike and threatened to hang up.
Saber laughed quietly, careful to keep his voice low and soothing. “Ah now, c’mon, Red, don’t treat me like that—you’re breaking my heart. I told you I would get back to you as soon as I could.” Sensing that the female had probably had enough of his games, he quickly shifted his approach before she could respond adversely—or become angry. “Look, Kristina. I thought about the last time I saw you, and you’re right. I’m an ass. No excuses. I come and go as I please, as if I could care less how things affect you, but you have to know that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m just rusty, you know? I don’t know how the hell to be with a beautiful woman…so maybe I’m still a little rough around the edges, but it’s got nothin’ to do with you—everything to do with me. And I just need you to be a little patient.”
That seemed to get her attention as she mmm-hmm’d him with only a minimal amount of sarcasm and waited to hear what else he had to say.
“So, on that note, I’ve been thinking of a way I could make it up to you—and honestly, about something I think might be meaningful to you.”
“What’s that?” she asked him, her interest finally piqued.
“I want to take you somewhere peaceful…relaxing…to the hot springs by the southern lake, but more than that, I want to help you branch out a little, make some new friends—because, really, isn’t that what’s behind some of the tension that keeps popping up between us? The fact that I can’t be there as often as you deserve…but you still have the need for company?”
The phone went silent, and for a moment, Saber thought she might have hung up. “Baby girl?”
Nothing.
“You still with me?”
She cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m here. What the hell are you talking about, Ramsey?”
He drew in a deep breath and deliberately slowed his speech. No point in rushing it. “I was thinking you should invite Nachari’s new lady to join us—just the three of us, you know? The two of you get to know each other better in an easy setting…where I can kind of act like a buffer.”
Kristina started laughing then. Actually laughing. “Yeah, because you’re such a social giant, Ramsey. Why would I need you to help me make a friend?”
He went straight to the heart of the matter, hoping to rattle her into submission. “Because we both know that you’re basically a loner.” He softened his voice. “Yeah, you have your new family—the Silivasis and their mates—but whether you believe it or not, I have learned a few things about the spicy redhead who seems to monopolize my attention both day and night anymore: She’s fiercely independent and has a mind of her own. She doesn’t like obligatory relationships or being told what to do. She needs some kind of space—or life—of her own that’s not under anyone else’s control, least of all her new, overbearing brothers.” He chuckled then. “Or her new overbearing love interest.”
“Love interest?” Kristina parroted sarcastically.
Saber placed his hand over his heart deliberately, hoping to add drama to his voice. “Ah, baby—you don’t love me yet? I’m wounded. Why are you so cruel?”
She huffed her annoyance, but he could hear a note of playfulness emerging in her voice. “Is that a trick question?”
“Yeah, yeah…okay. I’m not that lovable, I concede; but the point is, baby girl, you are. And I think a new friendship—one of your own making and choosing—would be good for you. Besides, there’s actually a little more to it than that—let’s just say it’s a gesture of sorts.”
“A gesture?” she asked curiously. “What kind of gesture?”
Saber spoke gently. “A gesture of good faith from me to you. You think I’m just trying to use you—that I want to sneak in, in the middle of the night, and leave before anyone sees…because I’m ashamed…or you’re not good enough to take in public.” He was reaching now, and he knew it. She had never actually said those words to him, but he was close to the underlying feelings—her ever constant insecurity—just the same. “And it isn’t that, Kristina—it really isn’t.”
When she remained deathly quiet, he took it as a sign to continue: “Like you, I want something separate from my everyday life—something that has nothing to do with the king or the other warriors, my own private space…and relationship.” He held his breath for a heartbeat and then dove in with both feet: The argument would either work…or it wouldn’t. “And I’m hoping that by taking both you and Deanna to the hot springs, you will at least come to see that I’m not ashamed of you; I’m not afraid of being seen in public with you; and that I care about more than just…getting next to you.” He went straight for the ego and sense of belonging. “Besides, if nothing else, Deanna will see us together, and she’ll know that you have someone who really digs you.” He stopped then, waiting to feel her out, to gauge her response.
“And what if Deanna comes to the conclusion that you’re nothing but a dog playing hound games, and I should step?”
Saber smiled—damn, but this girl was feisty. “Then I brought that shit on myself, right? Fair is fair.”
Kristina’s hesitation indicated she was mulling it over…seriously. “So, you would actually hang out with me—and Nachari’s destiny—at the hot springs for an entire evening—”
“Night,” he interjected. Unbeknownst to her, Saber had to make damn sure the sun had gone down before he hung out with anyone. “For as long as you like, baby girl.”
“Hmm,” she said. “So when do you want to do this?”
Saber sighed, not realizing that he had practically been holding his breath.
“Let’s meet up Sunday,” he answered. “Just the three of us. You pick up Deanna and bring her to the hot springs around nine o’clock. I’ll meet you both there…with bells on.”
Kristina giggled then. “Only bells?” she teased.
He growled low and wicked. “I will if you will.”
Kristina’s delight sparkled in the tone of her voice. “Fine,” she finally agreed, “I’ll give Deanna a call and invite her. But, Ramsey,” she interjected seriously, “I swear, if you stand me up or bail out in front of Deanna, that’s it. You don’t ever come by again or call back. I mean it. It’s over.”
Saber swallowed his retort, satisfied. If Kristina Silivasi could get Nachari’s destiny to the hot springs alone, it would indeed be over. For both of them. He nearly shuddered with anticipation. “Fair enough,” he drawled. “I’ll see you tomorrow then? Nine o’clock? Just the three of us—our secret.”
Kristina feigned indifference. “Yeah…yeah…it’ll be fun, I guess.”
“Oh,” Saber insisted, “you can count on it, baby girl.”
“Fine,” she said, “see you then.”
“See you then, Red.”
He hung up the phone, tucked it back into his pocket, and turned to face Salvatore, who was grinning from ear to ear while shaking his head in amusement.
“You will kill them both, then?” Salvatore asked.
Saber raised his shoulders and stared at the diabolical sorcerer, trying to read his resolve. “Do I have the council’s permission?”
Salvatore shrugged nonchalantly, appearing surprisingly indifferent. “I must admit, we had hoped to use the redhead much longer; she is such an easy, convenient source of information.” He exhaled slowly. “However, one must adapt to circumstances, no?”
Saber held up his hands. “The best laid plans of mice and vampires…”
Salvatore chucked heartily. “Indeed.” And then he leaned forward in his chair, rested his elbows
on his knees, and dropped his voice to a fine, icy purr. “Do not dally with Nachari’s girl, Saber. If there’s information you can garner from her, then fine—get it. But don’t take unnecessary chances. We want her dead. I want her dead.” He took a deep breath and lightened his voice. “And as for the other one—do whatever you want with her, however you like, if time permits—but yes, in the end, kill her, too.”
Saber rose from the stiff davenport, wondering absently why the wealthy sorcerer would keep something so uncomfortable in his lair. No matter. Soon, he would be done with this frivolous assignment and his far too frequent association with the Dark Council, and he could get back to living his own life. “As you wish, councilman. Your will—their graves.”
With that, he sauntered out of the room.
Braden Bratianu watched curiously as Kristina checked the caller ID on her cell phone, covered the mouthpiece with her hand as she answered it, and quickly shuffled out to the deck, closing the patio door behind her in order to keep Braden from listening in on the call.
As if he couldn’t just use his superior vampire hearing to eavesdrop if he chose.
He rolled his eyes, feeling more than a little annoyed and, frankly, put out. Since when did Kristina keep secrets from him? From her family? Since when had she started acting so weird? He wondered if it had anything to do with Ramsey, and he almost had half a mind to get up and follow her onto the deck—demand to know exactly who she was talking to and why. Just like Marquis would.