by Alexa Egan
Lucan turned his unfathomable eyes her direction and her knees almost buckled under the weight of his stare. “It was supposed to be you.”
She fell into a chair. “What?”
“Christophe is after you. He needs the power locked within your Fey-blood soul, the mage energy from which you derive your magic. It will allow him to continue in the human form he has chosen. That’s why he sought you out those months ago. But you departed London too soon. He had to follow you here.”
“So if he’s not Italian, a prince, or even human, what is he?”
“He’s Naxos. A race from beyond the farthest arm of the farthest galaxy, they spread by consuming all in their path, stripping whole worlds clean and reshaping the inhabitants into mindless drones programmed to serve the hive. Their appetites are endless. If left unchecked, they will devour everything until there is only emptiness; a shadow without end. It happened before, and those who survived fled the onslaught. But they have found us again. And this time there are too few Imnada remaining who remember what they are, much less how to defeat them.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Let’s say I’m well versed in the more ancient beings such as the Naxos. I discovered this one’s existence a year ago but only managed to track it to London within the last few weeks. When I realized what it planned, I trailed you here, hoping to stop it before it could strike . . . again.”
“Christophe’s done this before?” though she already knew the answer. The eight women reaching for her, beseeching her, their terror dying as the shadow swallowed them. The eight glass vials hidden in the prince’s traveling case. All that was left of his former brides once he’d stolen their magic.
“But why go to all the trouble of tracking me down? Why didn’t he just wait for my return to London?”
“The eclipse. The power generated as the shadow passes over the moon will allow him to complete the ritual that will cost you your life and extend his. Doing so within the vortex of mage energy a thin place provides will assist in the cleaner transfer of your life force.”
“If the Naxos recognize and need the power locked within the Other, why not just grab someone off the street?” Katherine asked. “Why come after Sarah in particular? Why go to the trouble of seducing Sarah into a marriage?”
“It seems to be his way, my lady,” Lucan replied. “He marries his victims only to have them die within a few short months. Perhaps to hide his true intent from the world. Perhaps his years among the human world have made him curious about this emotional connection that is unknown among the Naxos. It’s impossible to say.”
She recalled the soft words Christophe had whispered to her in her room—was it only last night? It felt like an age ago. He’d said she made him forget what he owed his people. That she made him yearn for a life he didn’t understand. Was there hope in that? Was there a way to use that to her advantage?
“If he wants me, why take Sebastian?” Sarah asked, though she had a sinking feeling that she already knew the answer.
“Bait for a trap?” Lucan’s gaze softened as he spoke her worst fears aloud, and heat stained her cheeks. Did everyone in the blasted house know she was soft on Sebastian?
She countered the stab of embarrassment with a defiant lift of her chin and a squaring of her shoulders as she made up her mind. “Then I shall have to spring his trap, won’t I?”
“You can’t go alone,” Katherine argued.
Lucan threw back the quilts. “She will not be alone, my lady. I will go with her.”
6
Sebastian slurped at the water trickling down the crumbling blocks of the burial chamber, the movement grinding his ribs into his spine, pain ripping up from his shattered ankle to his brain. Christophe had assumed Sebastian had been beaten into submission and had dumped him here unfettered and unguarded. His first attempt at escape had ended with his capture. His second ended with a smashing blow to his lower leg that crushed the bones and left him screaming and retching into the dirt. His third died before he’d crawled a dozen lengths when his swollen limb had connected with a root and he’d passed out. He wasn’t sure if he had the strength to try again.
“Have you learned nothing, Lord Deane, or must I break your other ankle?” Christophe appeared in the doorway of the low-ceilinged vault beneath the barrow mound, his features arranged in a pleasant expression as if he were making a morning call rather than threatening dismemberment.
“Does it matter, if I’m doomed to die anyway?” Sebastian wiped a grimy hand across his face.
“You won’t die, my lord. That would give rise to too many questions. Once Sarah is under my control, I’ll assume you into the collective mind of the Naxos. That is not death, but new life as you become one with the hive.”
“An honor I’m happy to forgo,” Sebastian quipped from a jaw clenched so tight his teeth ached. He’d seen the men who’d brought him here at Christophe’s orders. They seemed normal, but there was something about them—an absence of personality or, more frightening, a sameness of personality as if what made them unique had been erased. They’d become in essence walking, talking automatons. “What if Miss Haye doesn’t follow your tidy little plan and stays away? She’s not stupid. She’ll know it’s a trap.”
“She’ll come. I’ve seen the two of you in each other’s company, and I smelled the scent of your joining on her body.” Jealous fury passed like a ghost over Christophe’s features. “She won’t sit by while her lover is in danger. Courage is one of her most admirable attributes. Even if it is misplaced.”
He grabbed Sebastian under the arm and hoisted him roughly to his feet before guiding him to the mouth of the earth and stone burial mound. Sebastian bit back an anguished moan, spots crowding his vision as he struggled to keep from passing out again.
Outside, dusk had darkened the sky to steel gray and the cold air burned in his lungs. The moon hung high and pale in the winter sky, no sign yet of the coming eclipse . . . but soon.
“Humans make it so easy; affection, honor, desire. These emotions make you weak, confused, unable to think logically for the greater good of the whole. Sarah will rush to your rescue. It’s her nature.”
“And be met with death for her efforts.”
With a growl, the prince shoved Sebastian to the ground. This time he couldn’t stop the scream that ripped up out of his throat as he crumpled, tears burning his eyes at the excruciating pain in his ankle. Half surprised that bones weren’t protruding through his bruised and swollen skin.
Christophe’s gaze narrowed to slits, his mouth an uncompromising line. “You won’t believe me, but I gain no enjoyment from feasting on the flesh of those I slay. It is a repulsive but necessary evil.”
“If all you need is a hearty meal, why not take me and leave her alone?”
“I’ve explained my reasoning for keeping you alive. Miss Haye’s Fey-born power will ensure my ability to maintain this current form. Her common origins guarantee that few will question her disappearance or care what happens to her.”
“I care what happens to her—very much.” He searched Christophe’s face. “I think you do, too, somewhere deep in that stolen body of yours.”
The prince’s face twisted in anguish as he kicked Sebastian, the blow sending him sprawling across the muddy snow-slicked ground. “Sentiment is a useless emotion and incompatible with the Naxos hive. When I fulfill my mission and reopen the portal to my home world, this planet will fall under the serenity of a Naxos reign. You will understand true peace within the heart of the shadow.”
Sebastian stiffened as clues clicked into place. “The Naxos grow impatient and Sir Dromon has failed you. The head of the Ossine assists you in your work?”
“I assist myself as I have always done since arriving on your world, alone and cut off from my brothers. From one voice and one mind, I’ve grown. I’ve become strong. And when the portal is reopened, I’ll be rewarded for my diligence and Sir Dromon will gain exactly what he deserves.”
“It will never happen. We’ll stop you.”
“Who? The ancient shapechanger carrying his race’s massacre on his conscience or the army of Fey-blood warriors crowing for shifter blood?” The prince’s soft chuckle slid like ice water up Sebastian’s spine. “You’re too busy fighting among yourselves to prevent me from my goal.”
He pointed to the sky and the moon and the slow steady eclipse.
It had begun.
* * *
“. . . the base of the throat . . . the base of the throat . . .” Sarah repeated to herself. “If all else fails, they’re weakest at the base of the throat.”
Lucan hadn’t explained how she was supposed to overpower a man twice her size long enough to jam a dagger in his throat, but then she hadn’t really thought to ask before he’d slid away into the night. No doubt she’d think of something if it came down to it. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time she’d had to improvise a scene on the fly. Going over the plan one last time in her head, she drew a deep breath, closed her eyes for a brief invocation to any god listening, and stepped out boldly as if she were making an entrance upon the stage before a packed house.
Ahead, the track wound up through a scraggly copse of windblown pines to the hilltop’s summit. Pale light fell latticed through the branches as she climbed, but already the eclipse’s shadow fell across the face of the moon. According to Lucan, the growing shadow signaled the Naxos’s growing power. If the shapechanger was right, Sebastian would not survive to see the light return to the sky.
Rounding a tumble of boulders, she spied the outer rim of the ancient circular earthworks and heard Christophe’s gloating voice floating down to her on the breeze. She paused, her senses straining until she heard Sebastian answer.
Thank the gods, he still lived. She’d come in time.
A harsh shout whipped her head around. Rough hands seized her. A sour-faced man with a scarred chin jostled her roughly up the final yards to the top of the ridge. “Here she is, Your Highness. Just where you said she’d be.”
Christophe turned, his hands clasped loosely behind his back, his mouth pulled into a smile warm enough to melt steel. “Mia Sarah! My love, you didn’t let me down. See, my lord,” he said to Sebastian who sat propped against the broken stones at the mound’s entrance. “We have a guest just as I knew we would.”
She faced the prince down with every ounce of icy calm she could muster, holding out the bracelet. “You left this behind. I thought you might want all your brides together.”
“Ahh, so you figured out its secret. You’re the first to have done so. I knew you were special from the moment I laid eyes on you.” Once upon a time, one of his smiles might have warmed her heart. Now it just curdled her stomach. “I have a special gemstone for you, mia Sarah. A diamond to outshine the sun. I told you we would never be parted. Once I have taken what I need from your body, I will place you like a jewel in a setting for all eternity.”
As the gems flashed in the fast dimming light, the women he’d ensnared within each stone smashed through Sarah’s consciousness, screaming in terror, howling their fury and their fear. They yearned to be released of their prison. Desired vengeance and then peace.
Lucan’s plan was working . . . so far.
* * *
The eclipse dimmed the cloudy sky to pitch, the moon slowly swallowed to a crescent of dull reddish brown. Mist had risen to shroud the barrow in silver cloud, the air within the burial mound’s earthworks crackling with energy. As Sebastian knelt between his captors, their grips strangling the circulation in his arms, he felt the mage energy buzz along his skin, burrow through his bones, and fizz and ripple with his blood.
Christophe stood in the doorway to the grave vault, flames burning in his dark eyes, his hands outstretched toward the sky. “A few moments left and you’ll be freed from life’s worries forever. You’ll find a calm unlike any you have ever known.”
What was the saying about being careful what you wished for? Sebastian had built his life around cool prideful composure. Taken satisfaction in a demeanor as placid as still water. And used responsibility and duty to propel his every action. Now faced with a future locked into the hive’s control, he struggled against the loss of those dizzying highs and debilitating lows. The messy, unplanned unknown, where courage and a leap of faith might have secured him the woman of his dreams.
Sarah had called him a fool for contemplating such a lopsided marriage.
He called himself a fool for listening to her.
“You can’t do this, Christophe,” she shouted. “Let him go. He’ll say nothing. It’s me you want. Not him.”
“You must love him very much.”
Sarah’s gaze found Sebastian’s, her eyes burning with unshed tears in a face blanched pale as bone. “I do.”
His heart felt as if it had been yanked beating from his chest. His ankle, his ribs; none of these hurts mattered. This was real pain. Hearing her speak the words when it was too late.
“You once said I tempted you to give up Naxos logic for human love. If you spoke truthfully, if you really love me, you’ll release Lord Deane.”
“Why should I do that? If I loved you, wouldn’t I destroy a rival? That is the logical decision.”
“Love isn’t about logic or making sense. It’s about caring for someone so much you’re willing to sacrifice your happiness for theirs. Even when it hurts like hell to do so.” She did not look at Sebastian once, but he knew her words were intended for him as much as Christophe.
For one long pregnant moment, the prince seemed to waver. He looked from Sarah to Sebastian, his face screwed in thought before finally sneering his disgust. “Perhaps that is what love is supposed to be, but can you tell me that’s what it is? How many crimes are committed in the name of this raw emotion? How many wars fought? Lives ruined? There’s no place for love in a well-ordered society. It’s uncontrollable. It’s chaos. I’ve lived among you long enough to see where love leads; to suspicion and deceit, resentment and bitterness. For this, mia Sarah, you would risk your life to come here tonight? You would sacrifice yourself?”
Sebastian damned the pain and doubt flashing across Sarah’s face, but he couldn’t breathe to shout another denial, only shake his head, anger burning its way up his throat.
“I would.”
Once more, Sebastian noted the prince’s flash of jealousy, emotion warring with his emotionless Naxos nature. “As I said, humans are weak and easily manipulated. They will welcome Naxos control and logic and the hive will grow more powerful still. Beginning now . . .”
Spinning on his heel, he placed a hand upon Sebastian’s head, his eyes glowing and flickering, the air turning hot and soupy.
Sebastian struggled, but the men holding him down tightened their grip. His lungs constricted, his throat closed. He couldn’t breathe to fight. His vision blurred to a misty haze and he saw nothing but an endless tangle of webbed threads, heard only the muttered voices of the hive in his ears, and a woman’s anguished cries.
“Now, Lucan!! Now!! By the gods, where are you? He’s dying!”
Sebastian sensed a heavy vibration through his body where he lay upon the ground. Heard a man’s pained gasp and smelled the iron tang of blood.
“Caught the shifter snooping,” a man’s gruff voice said. “Gave him another taste of the silver as you said, Your Highness.”
A blast of red-hot pain like an ax handle buried in his brain startled a ragged scream from Sebastian’s lips. The voices grew louder as the pain dulled, and a strange calm stole along behind his needle-like anguish. His vision cleared. Snow and mud clung to his clothing and whipped like ice against his cheeks but he was not cold. His ankle no longer pained him. He no longer grieved for a life that might have been.
He smiled his acceptance.
* * *
The handle of a long-bladed knife protruded from a bloody wound in Lucan’s chest. He lay unmoving, barely breathing. Sarah was on her own.
Sebastian hung limp bet
ween two of Christophe’s men, their blank stares and impassive faces more chilling than any rage or hate twisting their features. Lost to the hive, they were bodies with no spirit. Sebastian would be that way, too, if she didn’t stop Christophe from sucking him dry. The prince stood over him, one hand upraised, power blasting the air until it curled along her skin in oily rivulets and slid into her mouth like the ooze of a Thames fog.
She gripped the bracelet, the gemstones burning into her palm, the screams of the Naxos brides like nails across a slate until her brain throbbed with their hate and their rage. They desired vengeance for their murders even as they yearned for the peace of the grave.
A peace she would give them.
She flung the bracelet down upon a slab of tumbled granite, the charms sparkling up at her in the dim ruddy light. Snatching up a broken wedge of stone from the ground, she raised it above her head before slamming it down on the opal with all her strength. A shrieking wail screeched across the sky, a burst of flame erupted from the shattered gem, and a woman’s form rose up ghostlike from the mist, hands outstretched, eyes of blue flame. She reached for Christophe, her open mouth stretched wide as if she meant to devour him.
Christophe wrenched away but Sarah was ready with the next. Down came the stone wedge, smashing the ruby. A flicker of red rose up to meet the figure of white. This one tore and ripped at his clothes, her eyes like live coals.
Another gem. Another ghost.
Writhing and shouting as the wraiths swarmed like vultures, Christophe released Sebastian, who lay unmoving upon the turf, a hand dug into the hard rocky soil, eyes wide and staring.
The spirits of his fallen brides wrapped themselves like shrouds around Christophe’s body while his men fought to defend him. One fell with his throat ripped out. Another was torn apart in a fury of blood and offal. The stench of hot blood and entrails scorched Sarah’s throat and left her gagging, but she ignored her watery eyes and churning stomach to smash the emerald . . . the pearl . . .