by Sam Cheever
“There is no reason for concern,” Caninra told me. She loped easily along just behind me and I had the distinct feeling she was letting me lead.
I was sawing air through my lungs like a fish demon flopping on the shore while the other woman was completely at ease. She wasn’t even breathing hard. “Where are the guards for this level?” I slowed to a stop and skimmed along the wall across from the open cell, my eyes scouring the space for trouble.
Caninra walked beside me, unconcerned. “We killed them all.” She pointed to the cell. “That was Rand’s cell.”
I peered into the blood-covered space and grimaced. When she said “killed” she clearly meant to say eviscerated and dismembered. There was nothing left but a pile of lower devil parts. “Yummy.”
She shrugged. “I was angry.”
Sliding her a look, I lifted my brows. “Remind me not to ever make you angry.”
“We must go, Ninra.” Her mate placed a hand on her back. “Someone comes.”
“The refuse room should be close. It’s usually on the back wall of the castle, lowest level.” I skimmed a look toward the wide, scarred wooden door at the end of the passage. “Which should be right there.”
“Lead the way, Princess,” Rand said smugly.
I got the distinct impression he knew the title annoyed me. I would have reprimanded him for it, but I remembered Astra repeatedly begging for the same thing from the dark worlders around her. It hadn’t done her any good and I presumed it wouldn’t do me any good either. If they knew something they did was annoying someone, they made sure to do it all the more.
The door at the end of the passage was unlatched. I signaled for Caninra and her people to hang back and I pushed it open just enough to slip through, the sword poised for battle if I should need it. The stench hit me like a fist and I reared back, cringing as I took in the hundreds of barrels filled with foul refuse...from rotting food to rotting corpses...it was apparently all the same to the royals. The garbage scow was docked in front of a wide opening, its waste-stained metal sides moored to the floor with long chains that were attached to loops bolted into the stone surface. I covered my nose with one hand and moved quickly and quietly toward the scow.
Hell’s oppressive heat bled through the cracks between the air boat and the castle room, turning what would have been beyond disgusting anyway, into a ghastly mess of half-cooked nastiness pickling the air. The smell was so bad I hesitated as I neared the flying garbage scow, because the worst of it seemed to be coming from inside the thing.
I tried pulling my energy forward and enclosing my face in a shield. It helped a little, but the stench within that room was a living, thriving thing that wasn’t to be denied. I accidently touched the side of the scow as I reached the door and yelped in pain as it seared the skin off my palm.
I dropped the sword and it clattered across the floor. Going very still, I listened for the sound of running guards. When no one came I pulled my energy forward and ducked into the scow.
My boots sank into slimy muck as soon as I stepped inside. Something foul, green and slimy dropped onto my head and, when I looked up, dripped onto my face too. “Ugh! Ish!” I scraped my fingers over the mess and then realized it was worse to have it on my fingers so I ran my hand over my Lara Croft special leather jeans, grimacing as it smeared but didn’t dry.
That was the thing that sucked about leather.
Sighing, I gave up trying to dry my hand and looked around for the televisual. The scow was bigger than I’d expected. Apparently Torre had a lot of garbage. I spotted the single, black seat, bolted to the floor and facing the scow’s operating panel. That was my destination. I’d need to override the scow’s programming or it would take us out over the fiery pits and dump us into the flames.
I glanced toward the door, thinking I should tell Caninra...
A dark shape loomed up behind me and two hard hands reached out, yanking me back against a hard, slime-covered form.
I would have screamed but a big, calloused hand covered my mouth. “Shhh! You really don’t want to do that.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Only the Good Die Young
Leave it to me to succumb to passion,
While standing ankle deep in dragon poop.
My heart racing, I jerked around and smacked Slayer on the chest before it sank in that he was actually alive. Then I threw myself into his arms, my lips finding his before I gave a single thought to the intelligence of starting something he would definitely try to finish.
True to his nature, Slayer wrapped his arms around me and, tugging me tight against his long, hard form, deepened the kiss until I could barely breathe under its force. His talented mouth was firm and insistent against mine. His tongue teased my lips until I opened for him, letting myself succumb to the force of his need. Slayer’s hands skimmed beneath my clothing, branding me with heat. Some small part of my brain that hadn’t already capitulated was screaming at me to stop...to step away...and to slap him silly for trying to seduce me in the middle of a garbage scow. But the part of my mind that wanted to grasp reason had no chance against the delicious force of personality that was Slayer.
As he nibbled gently on my lips, I pressed shamelessly against the hard ridge beneath his pants, my hands clutching his shoulders as if they were the only thing holding me upright. Lust coiled low in my belly, my sexual core convulsing with need.
Even the stench around us, which was a living, breathing force of its own, couldn’t penetrate the raging desire that lashed us together into a single, sizzling column of sexual intention.
Not so the sound of a throat clearing behind us. A smoky tendril of air wafted over me as my need-drenched brain slowly cleared and the realization of what came with that smoky scent finally ripped me from my daze. I wrenched free of Slayer’s arms and turned, dragging the back of my hand over my swollen lips.
Caninra and her mate stood just inside the door of the scow, looking smug.
“Did you forget something?” the keeper asked me with an arched brow.
I slammed my lips closed over a nervous giggle and frowned. “You, um...” I had to clear my throat several times before the words would emerge without a husky tone. “You can come in now.”
Her other eyebrow peaked to match the first. “Yeah. Thanks a bunch.”
Her mate nodded toward Slayer. “I assume this is the unfortunate partner. I see you survived.”
The two hounds lumbered through the door, causing Slayer to place a protective hand on my arm. He stepped forward as if to put himself between me and the hounds.
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need you to protect me from them, Slayer. I’ve spent the last hour with them and nobody’s died yet.”
Caninra’s gaze sharpened. “Not yet, no. But we’re running out of time.” She skimmed a look over Slayer, something speculative sliding through her gaze, and then focused the dark-orange pools back on me. “I hope you haven’t neglected your plan while dry humping your partner in the middle of devil spew.”
I opened my mouth to tell her off, but Slayer lifted a hand, stopping me. “The scow is programmed. We just need to seal the doors and launch it.”
Caninra nodded and barked out an order to her hounds. As they shuffled their massive bodies clear of the opening, Randshted pressed his finger against a greasy screen in the panel beside the door. With a groan, the curved, metal door began to slide closed.
I looked at Slayer. “How’d you...”
A shout from beyond the doors interrupted me.
Caninra looked at Slayer. “We must go. The prince’s men are here.”
My sexy partner nodded and launching himself into the chair at the front of the scow, he started punching buttons.
A thick, red hand shot through the door when it was mere inches from closing. Then another and another. The door groaned as Torre’s soldiers tried to wrench it back open.
Caninra glanced at her hounds and they leapt, snarling at the disembodied hands, ripping them of
f the guards’ arms with a wet crunch and flinging them over their heads.
Blood flew everywhere. A few drops hit my arm just as static filled my mind again. I sucked in a panic-filled gasp, covering my ears as the savage tones ripped through my brain.
The scow shuddered, metal screeching against metal, and finally wrenched free as the pain in my head roared to a crescendo. All I was aware of was an inhuman screaming as hands slipped over me, trying to pull me out of the ball I’d folded myself into. Slayer’s voice repeatedly said my name, his concern evident in every repetition. Then an explosion sounded and the scow jolted sideways, flinging Slayer on top of me on the slimy floor.
Shouting ensued. Slayer’s warmth disappeared and the scow jerked onto its side, its entire frame rumbling under some kind of stress. I slid across the goo on the floor and slammed into the wall as the scow shifted orientation. Agony rippled through me again. Tears, or blood, ran in warm trails from my eyes as the shrieking tone tore ragged tracks through my mind. I was so deeply into survival mode that I thought the two Hellhounds could probably tear me to pieces and I’d barely notice.
Darma!
My head shot up as the single word slammed through my consciousness and the pain stopped. I lay very still for a moment, listening to a series of explosive crashes and leaning into the wall behind me as the scow trembled under each one.
Skin-melting heat throbbed against my skin, thickening the air to the point that sound became muffled. I pulled energy forward and blanketed myself in protection. Muted shouting continued all around me. I slowly opened my eyes, gasping at what I saw.
A foot away from me, the smaller of the two hounds lay bleeding, her black eyes unblinking. Behind her, the larger hound flung his massive head from side to side, a thick-skinned brown leg with massive curved claws between its jaws. The heat I’d been feeling was coming from a crack in the floor that the creature whose leg was currently being gnawed off by the Hellhound had apparently wrenched open in the scow.
Beyond the thick, metal walls of the air vehicle, a roaring sound finally ended my confusion.
We were under attack by dragoyles.
I shoved to my feet, stumbling as the scow shuddered under another blow. A voice, far away and faint, called my name. I looked around for Slayer, not seeing him. I panicked. A hand touched my shoulder and I spun. Caninra said something to me but I could barely hear her. Then something popped in my ears and the world came flooding back in at full volume.
“Slayer needs help!” Caninra shouted.
“Where is he?” I yelled back.
She pointed to the front of the scow, where a sizeable crack had been ripped in the shell and Slayer’s legs were dangling, his feet kicking at the slippery wall as if for purchase. I took off running, eyeing the tear as Slayer continued to jerk. My impulse was to grab his legs and pull, but I had a feeling what was on the other side of that crack was much stronger than I was. So I did the next best thing. If I couldn’t pull Slayer back inside, I’d have to take the inside to him.
Not bothering to focus my power, I ripped it forward and flung it into the ceiling above my head. Beneath my silver energy, the metal of the scow melted away like butter, accompanied by the throaty roar of Slayer’s nemesis, who’d taken the remnants of my power across the belly and was bleeding green goo onto the scow.
Bonus.
I leapt upward, grasping the torn edge of the roof and pulling myself outside. Even with a power bubble wrapped tightly around me, the heat above the pits was beyond suffocating. It was like a living force, pulsating against me like waves of death.
I pushed the thought aside and starting running along the scow, heading for Slayer, who, I was dismayed to see, was bleeding from several deep lacerations. The dragoyle flying above the slowly moving scow had one clawed foot wrapped around Slayer’s neck and, if it weren’t for the shimmering lasso of energy Slayer attached to the thing’s other three legs, hobbling it, he would most likely already have been ripped out of the scow and flung to his death in the pits.
I sent energy boiling upward, my silvery power hitting the foul, black energy of Hell and igniting a colorful line of explosions.
The concussive force made the scow shift under my feet and I fell sideways, scrabbling at the slippery metal scow as I tumbled off into mid-air. In my panic I forgot to hold onto my protective bubble. Searing heat wrapped me in suffocating arms. Flailing wildly, I tried to scream but the heat had melted my lungs closed.
Something flared next to my ear and I realized it was my hair. I plunged downward through fire drenched air and smoke so dense it had an actual physical feel against my skin. High above me, Slayer screamed my name and, with a final jolt of energy, dispatched the dragoyle in a blast of fiery sparks.
Then, as my vision blurred from the acidic smoke, I watched in horror as he leapt from the scow, his heavy body falling quickly toward the pits below.
I wanted to scream...to cry...to smack him about the head and shoulders for risking himself uselessly for me. I was already done for. There’d been no reason for him to kill himself too.
But I was beyond any of those things. I felt as if the impossible heat had drained my entire body of moisture, turning me to a husk of bone and seared skin that the smoke would preserve for all time.
The roar of the fiery pits below slammed into me with the force of a laser storm. If my skin hadn’t already been blackened by fire, the pits would have burned me beyond recognition within seconds.
Slayer screamed something I couldn’t hear, pointing at a spot over my shoulder. I tried to turn my head. It wouldn’t turn. My muscles had locked into rigidity from the excruciating pain.
He formed himself into an arrow and plunged toward me. I wished I could tell him he’d be too late.
My downward plummet ended abruptly and painfully. I slammed against something hard but strangely giving. Agony pierced one hand, driving up my arm and into my shoulder as I landed. A blessed cool swept over me, driving off the choking smog. When he was about twenty yards above me, Slayer did a roll in midair and covered himself in charcoal colored energy. His downward spiral slowed enough so that he slammed down beside me without pinging back off.
“Dammit, Darma!” His handsome face folded into a mask of worry. I opened my mouth to tell him he was crazy for leaping to his death but nothing worked. My mouth was impossibly dry and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth.
He looked up, barked something over my head, and the ground beneath me undulated, coiling as if to explode. Slayer covered me in energy and gave me a smile. “Hold on, Princess. We’ve got some fancy flying to do.”
That was when I realized I hadn’t hit the ground. The scaly red surface I lay upon shot straight upward and rolled toward the left, heading for the broken roofline of several charred castles. Beyond the scorched buildings another ragged horizon waited, thin clouds clinging to the uneven peaks.
The Hades mountain range.
I closed my eyes as the red dragon flew fast and hard toward that horizon, occasionally dropping several feet downward as flame seared the sky above us. Some of the attacks hit close enough to make Slayer suck in a breath and I realized he was taking the brunt of the damage for both of us.
After a time, the evasive maneuvers stopped and the air turned cool. Slayer straightened with a grimace. “We’re over the mountains, Darma. Almost home.”
Home.
Then a thought occurred to me. My eyes shot open. I reached a charred hand to clasp Slayer’s shirt. “Caninra and her people! We can’t just leave them here.”
Slayer wrapped his big hand around mine and smiled. “They’re fine. They’re working their way toward the mountains.”
“But they’ll be killed. There are only three of them.” Tears filled my eyes as I remembered the small female I’d seen lying dead in the scow.
“They’re not alone. Here...” He carefully pulled me into a seated position, tucking me back against his chest. The contact was painful against my ravaged skin but I p
ushed it aside, my eyes widening in wonder at what I saw.
The sky was full of red dragons with Astra and Dialle’s guards astride them. “She sent help?” A deep sense of failure swamped me. Astra and Dialle had worked hard over the last months to craft a new kind of leadership. One that didn’t always fall to battle when things went wrong. Because of me...and my inept running of The Angel Network, all their hard work was out the window. “This is all my fault...”
Slayer shook his head, pointing toward a pair of larger dragons at the lead, one black and one white. I recognized Astra’s dragon foster child Glynus and her mate Spencer. Slayer’s lips were a gentle touch against my cheek. “This is Torre’s fault. Nobody else’s. No one can be allowed to kidnap and threaten the queen’s sister, Darma. Not even Dialle’s brother. Besides, you know Astra. She was chomping at the bit to get back into the saddle.”
I chuckled, the effort making my chest hurt. “I’m sure that’s true.” I looked up at him. “We need to help them.”
He shook his head. “You’re going back for a full healing. Astra’s orders. Besides...” He frowned down at me. “You need to tell me what happened to you back there in the scow.”
The atmosphere around us stretched with a twang and then snapped taut and we were suddenly flying through daylight and normal temps...back on the human plane. “I wish I knew. It happened twice inside the castle too.”
“Well, as soon as Astra and Dialle get back we’ll talk to them about it. Maybe they’ll know what to do.”
I didn’t respond because I had a feeling they wouldn’t be able to help. Whatever was happening to me, I suspected it was tied to Torre and our former connection. And nothing short of death could help me with that.
CHAPTER NINE
Clean up on Aisle 666
I didn’t do nothin’ he says with a straight face,
Meanwhile, I’m a fairy whisker away from a Crematorium kiss.
“She’s not healing like she should be.”
Though they were clearly trying to speak softly, Astra and Slayer’s voices pulled at me. I fought restlessly against sleep but my body was so tired weariness kept dragging me down.