The Last Slayer

by Lee, Nadia

  A lilith began kneading Ramiel’s shoulder muscles, and he sighed and leaned closer to her. It was just an innocent massage…except the lilith was whispering softly into his ear, and his lips curved into a dreamy smile.

  “How did Leh react after you took her heartstone?”

  I had some difficulty turning my attention back to my hostess. “She’s all right. Probably resting.”

  Nahemah made a contemplative humming noise, keeping her eyes on me. “Did she give you anything else?”

  “Just some answers about my life.” I wasn’t about to tell her I’d received the key to Nathanael’s Harmonia Chamber. I had a feeling Nahemah would want the vials for herself. And there had been no promise that she wouldn’t try to rob me blind.

  A samael went around the seat to massage her shoulders. She arched her back as she leaned into his ministrations. “Well, I’m glad Leh’s fine after the extraction. It would have been unfortunate otherwise. Nathanael would have another reason to kill you.”

  Like he needed more than one. He wanted me dead plenty enough already. Would have succeeded if it hadn’t been for Leh. Remembering the fight by her cottage made me tense, and on cue, the samael at my feet leaned over and started massaging my calves. He had just the right touch to ease the tightness in my legs. My lilith poured another glass of wine for me.

  Another samael started rubbing my neck. Damn. Nahemah had a whole harem of exceptional masseurs.

  “My pets are very eager to please our guests,” Nahemah said with a relaxed smile. “They strive to ensure you have a total sensual experience here at all times. I hope you appreciate their efforts.”

  “Mmm,” I murmured. The samaels’ expert hands were turning my muscles into water. I could get used to this.

  Ramiel also seemed to be enjoying the three liliths who were kneading him. The one at his feet grew bolder, her hand drifting toward his crotch. He didn’t make any move to stop it.

  My eyes narrowed. We weren’t an official couple or anything, but could he at least have the decency to push her hand away? I mean, we’d shared Sex just an hour before.

  There are times when I wonder why I haven’t turned lesbian.

  The samael who was attending to my calves migrated upward to my thighs. They hurt from bumping into things when I was trying to avoid Nathanael’s blows, and I didn’t see why I should deny myself. In order to spare Ramiel’s sensibilities? Ha! He had none.

  Ramiel’s eyes closed. Even through his clothes, I could see the outline of his arousal. It absolutely infuriated me. If I had been alone with him… But there was our hostess to think about. I’d promised her I’d dine with her, not provide the gossip item for the month.

  Even as my brain fumed, my muscles grew languid, my limbs heavy. It was as if I were back in the Lunar Pool, minus the emotional catharsis. I sipped my wine again and felt its coolness travel to my stomach.

  The hands on me grew hotter and more skilled, a nice lovely long stroke here, slow kneading there. Nahemah had been right. The Lunar Garden did indeed provide a total sensual experience.

  Yet something was very wrong. My gut burned like it always did when one plus one didn’t add up to two. I focused on the scene before me. Nahemah had an amused expression on her face—as always—and Ramiel was enjoying the touch of the liliths. My samaels were doing their best to please me.

  What was wrong? What was I not seeing?

  One of the liliths lowered her face to Ramiel’s crotch and I watched him dig a hand roughly into her hair.

  I rose from my seat abruptly, making one of the samaels tumble over backward. I had my answer.

  “Get off him,” I said to the lilith. She continued to fondle Ramiel as if she hadn’t heard anything. My internal alarm rang loud and clear even through the haze of wine. “Ramiel, get her off you or I’m going to make you regret it.”

  Nahemah’s eyes danced with amusement, and she glanced at Ramiel. He didn’t even open his eyes.

  His cavalier attitude pissed me off, but something about it made me sure I had found the reason for my unease.

  I started toward him. The wine made my balance a bit off, but I could still manage fine. I whispered the incantation he’d taught me at the cottage.

  My torso and heart suddenly felt like there were hot lumps of coal inside, burning through. I inhaled and inhaled, helpless to stop. It was as if my entire body struggled to expand against a tight iron corset. I thought for a moment I’d gotten the words wrong. My rib cage felt like it would snap.

  My right palm ripped and a long sword shot out through the skin. Somehow it didn’t hurt. My blood stained the bright rubies, sapphires and emeralds on the hilt. Nahemah’s eyes sharpened at the sight of the weapon.

  Gripping the sword tightly, I walked around the table. The cut on my palm closed immediately, the blood congealing into a hard sticky frosting around the jeweled pommel. I finally exhaled. My body didn’t hurt anymore now that the blade was out. Leh’s heartstone pulsated inside me and adrenaline flooded into my bloodstream. The effects of the wine vanished abruptly; everything seemed brighter and sharper than usual.

  Ramiel finally deigned to give me a cursory glance. Something was definitely wrong with the way he looked at me. And the way he smelled, with an odd undertone of decaying rose petals…and the way his magic surrounded him, like rancid oil trying to mix with water—with my extra sensitivity I could tell that all his emanations were off.

  Everything about his presence reminded me of rotten fruit. And with that came a conviction that my instinct was right.

  I thrust at his stomach. It wouldn’t have been fast enough to hurt Ramiel—the real one, that is—but it was quick enough to skewer most lesser supernaturals.

  He didn’t even have a chance to gasp. The blade entered his flesh even as the lilith rolled away screaming. He gripped the naked blade, cutting his palms. His eyes widened at the sight of the blood flowing from his belly and finally met mine.

  Eyes the color of rivets.

  “Son of a bitch.” I stepped back, pulling my sword out as I did. I turned to Nahemah. “What the hell is going on?”

  She rose from her seat, her face as smooth and blank as a doll’s. “What did you have to do that for?” She sighed. “Now it’s going to be messy.”

  Fear began knotting my stomach, and the food I’d eaten protested. Still I held my position. “Where’s Ramiel?”

  She shrugged. “Enjoying his dinner, I’m sure. If he’d known what kind of a barbarian you are, he would never have associated with you, regardless of his vow to Leh. My, my, look what you’ve done to my poor servant.”

  She walked toward her dying samael and shoved him to the floor. Gasping, he fell forward. He still had Ramiel’s face and body. Blood spilled across the marble, the odor of stomach contents mixing with the aroma of food. I did my best not to gag. If the chorus and harpists could continue to perform as if nothing had happened, I could damn well act like this was par for the course too.

  Nahemah inspected the méridienne. “It’s going to be such a chore to get the stain out of the cushions. Oh well. Not my responsibility.”

  “What do you want?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Dinner. With you, of course. I thought having a Ramiel look-alike would make you feel more relaxed. I didn’t want the real one here glowering at me the whole time. He can be so tedious. You would think someone who’s of impure line would be a little more fun. Less strict about formalities.”

  “Impure line?”

  “Didn’t he tell you? He’s a mongrel.” Nahemah’s lips twisted. “So righteous. So arrogant. So strict. As if he could erase the taint with his conduct.” She waved her hand at the samael on the floor and all the blood. “Now the banquet’s ruined. How can we possibly eat after such tragedy? That wasn’t very nice of you, Ashera.”

  My name rolled from her tongue like an old hard candy, saccharine and sticky. I suppressed a shudder.

  Nahemah took a step. Slowly and sensuously. Then two. Each languid m
ovement of her hips brought her closer.

  “When a dragonlady offers her help…” a step, “…provides such superb hospitality…” another step, “…she deserves something more…” a roll of her hips, “…than a gutted servant.” Still another step.

  Instinct told me to retreat, but I forced myself to stand my ground. Any sign of fear would only embolden her. Now she stood close enough that I could smell roses and moon-milk on her.

  She smiled at me. Then her left hand shot out like a cobra toward my heart, while a sword appeared gleaming in her right. It happened so fast, I was still in the middle of jumping backward when she swung.

  I blocked her sword with mine. They met with a clang that hurt my ears and made my blood sing.

  “What do you want? To give me to Nathanael?”

  “Nathanael?” Her voice had changed, and now held a cruel edge of scorn. “I don’t care about him or his slayer slut. All that angst, all those wars, and for what? To give it all up for her?” In battle stance, she nonetheless regarded me with a hauteur only the immortals can pull off. “We’re only as good as our heartstones, my dear, and I want yours.”

  For a woman who didn’t look particularly athletic, Nahemah wielded tremendous power. Her sword was slightly curved, single-edged and at least eight feet long. She controlled it as if it were a pen.

  She gained on me, each swing and thrust surer than the one before. I mistimed a parry, and her blade cut through my dress and dug into my left rib. It burned like a hot poker. I gasped and scrambled sideways, then down before she could slice me in half. The whistle of her sword over my head chilled my blood. The narrow dress tangled around my legs. Shit.

  I held her off as long as I could, positioning myself next to a column so that I only had to defend one side of my body. The liliths and samaels continued to sing and fan the room as if swordfights in the middle of dinner were quite common. Maybe they were. Nahemah hadn’t thought twice about killing India in front of her servants.

  “If you hate me, why did you let me see Leh?” I asked through clenched teeth.

  “Hate you? Silly girl. I couldn’t care less about you.” The distracted smile on her face made my throat clog with fear. “Think what I can do with a slayer’s heartstone, the same one Nathanael has. You were the only one who could get it for me.”

  What the—

  Nathanael and I both had heartstones from Leh?

  I stepped on the hem of my dress, tripped and landed on my back. Nahemah seized the moment. Pinning my sword with a foot, she knelt on my chest. She reached up with her left hand, ready to plunge it into me. I balled my free hand into a fist and punched her in the ribs.

  Nahemah screamed, which surprised me. With no leverage, I hadn’t hit her that hard.

  She lunged backward, holding on to the stump of her left arm. The hand itself lay in a pool of blood on my stomach. Its fingers moved, trying to scuttle up to my chest. Horrified, I grabbed it and threw it. The fingers opened and closed as it flew through the air.

  “Are you all right?”

  Ramiel. The real one. Blood covered him from head to toe, ran from his sword. He smelled like death.

  I’d never found him more wonderful.

  I nodded, stood up. “Where have you been?”

  “At a different banquet with an illusion of you.”

  “How did you know it wasn’t me?”

  His mouth quirked. “Too docile.”

  Ramiel’s gaze focused on Nahemah, who was crouched, clutching her stump of a left arm. Pure loathing chiseled her features. Had I found her beautiful before? Now she terrified me more than any demon ever had. Such unholy hatred on a face so angelic.

  Her severed hand slid along the floor, the long, perfectly lacquered crimson nails scrabbling for purchase on the smooth marble. It looked like a giant white five-legged spider, and I have extreme arachnophobia. Cold sweat dampened my palms.

  It finally stopped, righted itself and came at me again, the nails making a horrible skittering sound. I bit my lower lip to prevent a scream.

  When it got close, I punted it as hard as I could and grabbed my sword, determined to hack it to pieces if it came near me one more time. It spun in the air and landed on a platter of lobster meat. Food splattered the nearest samael.

  Weston screamed and flew at me like a kamikaze hummingbird. He zipped past at thigh level and ripped a small gash in my leg. He would have been too fast for me before, but now I had a heartstone. The second time he passed, I shifted position and brought my sword down cleanly through his neck. The gossamer wings kept beating, taking the body out into the garden, while the tiny head bounced and rolled, coming to rest against Nahemah’s foot.

  Ramiel moved between us. “I warned you.”

  “Warned me?” She kicked Weston’s head away. “You are still in the Lunar Garden.”

  “Not for much longer.”

  “You don’t really think you’re leaving without a farewell party, do you?” She raised her voice. “Wyverns, drakes, wyrms!”

  Ramiel whistled shrilly.

  Nahemah’s dragons sprang forth with a roar from among the columns and the shadows of the garden. They advanced on us and the earth seemed to tremble in anticipation of the warm new blood that would soak it.

  We were completely encircled, above, around and undoubtedly below, and I didn’t see how we could escape. Teleportation was out of question. Nahemah was the mistress of the Lunar Garden and had the power to block magical entry and departure from her dragonhold. A pair of Besade amphiteres hovered high in the sky over the wyverns of the Lunar Garden, but they couldn’t penetrate the hostiles’ formation.

  Fantastic.

  “Shield us.” Without waiting for my response, Ramiel drew in a breath and said, “Draco perditio.”

  What I had done—what I had thought of as draco perditio—was nothing compared to what he unleashed. A pale green shockwave of power radiated out in a sphere, bending the air and light, shriveling and destroying any dragon unfortunate enough to be within range. I’d heard of radiant offensive spells before, but only in theory—no mortal has enough power to perform them. My draco perditio had been no exception. It had been directed at only one target—Apollyon’s wyrm. What Ramiel did was of a different order of magnitude.

  The shield I’d put up barely held as the creatures fell screaming with a series of loud pops. They puckered and collapsed into desiccated softballs, their carcasses bouncing around and rolling. Some of the wyverns fled, managing to avoid death, but the slower ones lost trailing legs and tails and showered the ground with cold salty blood.

  Nahemah paled under the crimson rivulets that ran down her face. Her right hand tightened around her sword. “Interfering mongrel! You’ll rue this day, I swear it!”

  Ramiel stood like the demigod he was, magnificent, imperial, residual power still coming off him like a furnace. His lips twisted into a cruel smile. “You should’ve taken me more seriously, Oh Lady of the Pure Blood.”

  Our amphiteres dropped swiftly through Nahemah’s stunned wyverns. I released our shield, and Ramiel and I hopped onto one each.

  He saluted Nahemah, and as we rode into the night sky, a look of satisfaction was etched onto his face.

  Fourteen

  The cold wind enveloped us. I shivered and tightened my grip on my amphitere’s rein. Falling after our dramatic escape would be totally anticlimactic.

  Once I felt stable, I looked back. Wyverns’ wings shimmered like waves of pearls below us. In an impressive show of bravery, they were giving chase despite Ramiel’s display of power earlier. Anything to please their mistress, I supposed.

  “Can we outfly them?”

  Ramiel glanced down at the flight of wyverns, which was slowly gaining on us. “Most likely not. But we shouldn’t engage them.” He looked at my still-bleeding rib. “Your wound wants healing, and your amphitere has never gone into battle before. She’s too young.”

  “So…any clever plans? Maybe another draco perditio?”

>   Our amphiteres squeaked and cried.

  “Do you wish to fall?”

  Oh yeah. “Can you target them individually?”

  He shook his head. “There are too many.”

  “Damn.” I was itching to incinerate a few wyverns myself, take my new heartstone for a test drive, so to speak, but it would have been foolish.

  “Also we’re no longer within the Lunar Garden. I don’t want other dragonlords to pick up on another draco perditio.”

  “They can do that?”

  “Of course. It’s a forbidden spell. We can feel its effect like an earth tremor. So as a rule we only use it under extreme circumstances.”

  I looked back at the cloud of wyverns that was following us. “This isn’t an extreme circumstance?”

  “Don’t worry. I shall find a way.”

  Usually I didn’t rely on others. So-called “teamwork” just created problems. But I could feel a sea-change starting within me. Ramiel had saved me more than once, revealed his secrets to me, guided me as I made my stumbling way through the world of supernaturals. Somehow I felt that he would take care of the situation. Take care of me.

  I straightened my shoulders, made a conscious decision to trust him, and we flew on silence. Ramiel closed his eyes and let his amphitere navigate. Mine followed. Despite her supposed passivity, her muscles were tense. I guess she wasn’t used to flying with a bunch of pissed-off wyverns after her.

  Ahead, the sun began to reveal itself. Morning gold spilt over a sky of purple and orange. We passed from the Lunar Garden’s sphere of influence. In Besade, Toshi would have breakfast waiting. And maybe some Sex for both of us, provided that was how dragonlords recharged. Of course, we could have simply done the deed. Ramiel was able to somehow gather Sex and use it.

  More wyverns appeared ahead, one o’clock high, coming toward us. I blinked at the sight. At this rate, we were going to be caught in a wyvern stew.

  Ramiel still had his eyes closed, his hair streaming out behind him. Maybe he thought he was surfing off Malibu or something. His amphitere continued toward the new group of wyverns. Surely it knew what was coming toward us, right? It wasn’t—god forbid—blind, was it?