"Parasite?" Just the idea of her cutting herself down like that pissed him off. "Fuck that, Cat. Come on! You're a powerful being of the Otherworld. You got the tools." He took them to the right, carefully skipping a fermenting pool of odiousness, and sliding between two burned-out homes.
Catherine stumbled beside him. "I know I have tools," she gasped. "But I have them because I steal lives and light." She tripped again, and Ryland picked her up, tucking her against him as he continued to move quickly over the carnage. Ahead, the temple grew larger. The place that had trapped him for so long. The site of his hell.
"You're no different than anyone else," he said, trying to focus on Cat instead of what he was approaching. "Everyone feeds on something. It's how life sustains itself. Cut yourself a break, woman. It's not helping us right now—" Something twisted deep inside his gut, and he lost his footing. He hit the ground hard, and Catherine spilled out of his arms onto the barren dirt.
She groaned softly, bracing her hands on the earth. Her face was pale, her beautiful hair hanging in tangled strands. "Ryland? You don't look good."
"I'm fine." He gritted his teeth as his stomach undulated, as life began to take shape within him. He remembered it all too well from the night they killed his faerie. It was the first stage of complete surrender. He surged to his feet, staggering as his equilibrium failed him. "Come on," he said. "We need to hurry."
Catherine grabbed his hand, and together they pulled her up. This time, they held hands tightly as they resumed their trek across the wasteland. They'd made it only twenty yards when dark shadows began to swirl over the earth. "Oh, crap," he muttered. "Really? Now?"
"What is it?"
Ryland shoved his hand into his back pocket, searching for the bag he'd taken from the crevice in the wall where the green glowstone had been. It contained a vial of a powder created by the water faeries. Marie had always kept a supply there, and they'd saved his ass more than once—until he'd come into his destiny and kicked ass all on his own.
He'd been hoping he wasn't going to have to use the vial. "Get on my back," he ordered Catherine, who immediately jumped on just as the shadows whirled around where her feet had been.
Shit! It wasn't in that pocket! "Climb higher," he commanded as the shadows entwined around his ankles and began to climb his legs, like vines. His legs went instantly numb, and his muscles started to tremble as they fed on his life force. His fingers closed on a small vial, and he jerked it out of his pocket. He tore the stopper out as they reached his hips. His pelvis went numb, and weakness assaulted him.
Swearing, he turned the bottle over, fighting desperately not to collapse. He'd seen too many creatures fall into the mist and be instantly consumed. They had to stay vertical. A silver powder floated out of the bottle, sifting down into the shadows.
The shadows went still, and he gritted his teeth, waiting for that telltale whoosh as they retreated...but it didn't come. With a fresh surge, they moved higher, around Catherine's ankles and his torso. Jesus. The powder must have lost its impact over the centuries.
"Ryland!" Catherine's voice was shaky now, and he knew they were closing around her chest, taking away her oxygen.
His legs were shaking violently now, and Ryland stumbled again as weakness invaded his body. Catherine slipped slightly, and he knew she was weakening as well. It was too much. They were so close, and they weren't going to make it—
"Balthazar. You have returned." The voice was ancient and beautiful, like glass bells tinkling in a light wind as it called the name he hadn't heard for hundreds of years, the name that used to be his.
"Matalan?" he whispered in shock. "Help us—" Then he collapsed.
The shadows swarmed them, and he pulled Catherine into his arms, uselessly trying to shield her with his body. He tucked her head against his chest as weakness consumed him, waiting for the death—
Balthazar. The name whispered again, and he opened his eyes to see a blue-green apparition floating above him. The woman was ethereal and beautiful, an oasis in the hell they were facing. Her skin was as flawless as it had been a thousand years ago, but her eyes were nothing but sadness and pain. She was the mother of Marie, the faerie who had died for him, a woman who had never been able to look at him again after her child had lost her life. And yet, here she was, seeking him out. In her hand was a long, wispy frond and she waved it gently over them, showering them with a sparkling silver powder.
The moment she did, the shadows vanished, seeping back into the parched ground, leaving them behind. Alive.
Ryland sagged to the earth, his body so depleted he could barely hold himself up. "Matalan. Thank you."
"It is you, Balthazar. The boy has returned a man." She smiled sadly. "I never thought I would see you as a man again once the beast took you."
Ryland rubbed his chest, knowing all too well how she had last seen him. "I'm sorry about Marie," he said. He'd never had the chance to apologize. He'd been a monster from that day onward. "I'm so sorry she died for our friendship."
Matalan smiled sadly. "She loved you, Balthazar. She would never have traded what she had with you in exchange for a longer life."
Her words were a shock. Love? Marie had loved him? He didn't understand. How could she have chosen death over life for him? "I didn't ask her for that. I wouldn't have wanted her to do that—"
"No. You do not get to choose how others love you. All you can do is honor their choice if they bless you with their love." She shook her head as she floated down, running her ghostly hands through Catherine's hair. "An angel's hair," she said. "Life-giving. May I take some?"
Catherine sat up, her eyes wide as she stared at Matalan. "Of course."
Matalan nodded, and she swiped the frond through Catherine's locks, taking a handful. She bowed gracefully. "Balthazar," she said. "Time grows fleeting down here. The border grows thin. Desdria is working with dark, dark forces. We are leaving."
Ryland sat up. "What? The water faeries are leaving the nether-realm? But without you, it will fall into darkness."
"We cannot hold it up anymore." She smiled sadly, her fingers drifting over his cheek like a soft breeze. "Less than a hundred of us remain. We are dying, Balthazar, and we must go."
At her words, he suddenly heard the weakness in her voice, and saw the trembling of her hands. Realization surged through him, and he grabbed her hands. "No, Matalan. Not you." She was the only kindness he'd had there. She and Marie.
She touched his face, and tears fell over her misty cheeks that were becoming even more faded. "You have returned to us, Balthazar. You will either bring the final destruction or hope for redemption. May peace be with you." She faded further, her turquoise eyes shifting to a pale gray.
"No!" He lunged for her, but his fingers went right through the apparition.
Tears glittered on her cheeks as the faerie blinked out of existence, the last light in a world of haunting death. The last light he'd ever had. Emptiness roared through him. Isolation. Loss. Such a gaping chasm that hollowed him out, leaving behind only a raw wound of pain. Everything was gone. Marie. Dante. And now Matalan. Darkness seemed to press in around him, obscuring everything—
"Ryland." Catherine's hand touched his arm. "Look at me."
He dragged his gaze up to the angel before him. "Your eyes," he gasped. "They're so blue. How are they so blue?"
She smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead. It wasn't a chaste kiss. It wasn't lust. It was connection and hope. It was an intimacy shared only between two souls bound together. Ryland sank his hand into her hair, and leaned his forehead against hers. Their noses were pressed against each other, their lips, their cheeks in a moment of silent connection. Of shared grief. Of mutual acknowledgment that the other was all they had to count on.
He'd wanted words from Catherine declaring that she belonged to him, not Thano. He'd wanted her to promise the very connection that they were sharing in this moment, just as she'd wanted words from him that he would save her daughter. But as they shared breaths, he
knew that he had the answer he'd sought. She was his, only his, on every level, regardless of the mark she carried on her arm. Words were not necessary. "You're my light," he whispered. "You're my hope. You're the goodness I've been seeking for so long."
Catherine said nothing, but he felt a surge of warmth from her. The feeling she offered him was so breathtaking and so compassionate that it made him want to lift her in his arms, take her out of the darkness into a field of white flowers, and make love to her while the sun warmed their bodies and brought light into their souls.
Ryland, she breathed. That's beautiful.
He grimaced. You weren't supposed to hear that.
No, it's lovely. I'm glad I did. She pulled back, her blue eyes so intense. I know who you are, Ryland. I know that making love in a field of lilies isn't a promise you can keep. But the mere fact you even thought it is one of the most beautiful moments I've ever had. Lightness in darkness. Hope in the face of despair. Beauty in the face of carnage. Thank you. She smiled. Maybe you're the angel, not me.
He laughed softly, tugged at a lock of her chopped-off hair. You are one crazy broad.
I know. You're no prize yourself.
This time he laughed aloud. Humor in the midst of such darkness felt cruel, but at the same time, he needed it. "How are you feeling?"
"Terrible."
"Me, too." He looked past her. They were close enough to see the iron gates of the temple, and the fires burning around it. "Let's do this, sweetheart."
She turned around, and she tensed. "My baby is behind those gates."
Ryland climbed to his feet, his entire body still numb with weakness. "We'll get her." He reached for her, only to see the glitter of gold around his wrists. He swore, staring at the thick gold bands around his arms. His wrists were cuffed now. A cold stab of fear knifed through him, and his weapons burned in his arms, desperate to fight against a foe he couldn't even see.
"Oh, no." Catherine grabbed his wrist, her fingers so small against the hard metal band. "Oh, my God, Ryland. They almost have you." She pulled open his shirt and they both saw that the collar around the beast's neck was a faint yellow, and the turquoise was completely filled in all the way to that point. Only the head was still black and white. She looked at him. "You have to go back."
Fear hammered at him, but Ryland ground his jaw. He was so close. So close. The nether-realm was descending into so much darkness. How could he walk away now? From an innocent little girl? From Dante? "Do you sense Dante?" he asked, ignoring her order.
She stared at him, then closed her eyes. He felt the air thicken as she reached out. She wavered, as if she were going to lose her balance, and he caught her, summoning all his strength to hold her up. Her eyes snapped open, and they were bright with excitement. "I do," she said. "His soul is in the temple." Regret flickered in her eyes. "He's suffering."
Ryland swore and looked past her at the gates that had trapped him for so long. On this side, lay freedom. On the other side, lay slavery. And Dante. And Lucy. How could he possibly turn around and walk away, leaving the innocents behind? Too many had died because he hadn't protected them. It ended now. "We're going in."
"But the cuffs—"
He gripped her hand and started walking toward the temple, a ruthless, determined stride. "I owe Dante. I vowed to protect the Order. I will not walk way."
"And Lucy?" She hurried beside him, her breath coming in weak gasps.
His jaw flexed as he thought of Marie dying, and then Matalan. No more death. No more. "We're getting her, too."
But even as he said it, there was a sharp stab of pain in his chest. He didn't look down to see what the picture was doing. "I think we need to run," was all he said.
Catherine glanced at him, her face even paler than it had been. "I agree."
Together, hands clasped, they summoned energy neither of them had, and sprinted across the wasteland toward the iron gates of hell.
* * *
They were almost to the Great Temple.
So close that the heat from the pyres singed his skin.
Ryland stopped, his entire body shaking violently as the massive iron gates loomed up in front of him. Beyond those gates lay the hell that he never thought he would escape. The one that had haunted his nightmares for centuries, until he finally believed it could never trap him again. And now he was back.
His breath began to rasp in his chest, and he went down on his knees, fighting for oxygen. He leaned forward, bracing himself on his hands, his chest inches from the black earth. Fear seized him, a fear so deep that even the toughest warrior couldn't will it away. It assaulted him from every direction. Memories knifed at his brain. The same horrific feelings of helplessness came catapulting back to him, and his entire being howled with the anguish of it.
"That's it," he rasped. "That's where it happened. Where they finally enslaved me. In the main room of the temple. Right there."
Catherine knelt beside him, her touch on his back so fucking soft that he almost couldn't even register it. But he did, and he focused all his energy into that touch, using her to ground himself.
"You don't have to go in—"
"Fuck that. Of course I'm going in." His palms still flat on the ground, his elbows bent, he slowly raised his head, staring at the gates. "Today, the nightmare ends," he said softly as new energy and determination began to build inside him. No more fear. No more nightmares. Tonight, he took control. Tonight, it was his. "You get a read on Dante yet? Is he definitely in there?"
She turned to look at the crumbling stone temple, and then a chill drifted through his bones, as if he'd sensed what she did. "Yes," she said. "His soul is in there."
"And your daughter?"
She shook her head. "I don't sense her."
Ryland shoved himself to his feet and called out his machetes. "Sweetheart, when we get her back, we need to get that girl in a blood-bond so that we can always find her."
Catherine stared at him. "We?"
"You. I meant you." But even as he said the words, he knew it was a lie. He would never walk away from this woman, and that included everything that mattered to her. He was going to make damn sure that little girl was safe for the rest of her life. "Let's go." With Catherine following right behind him, Ryland moved silently up toward the gates. As he approached, they swung open by an invisible force, and the fires flared higher on either side, inviting them in.
Catherine sucked in her breath. "They know we're here."
"Of course they do." Ryland called out his machetes with a crack and a flash of black light as he began to walk toward the gates, forcing his resistant body to take each step. Closer. Closer. "They're banking on the fact that they're still stronger than I am. Than we are."
Catherine moved close to him, but there was no hesitation in her gait. Just firm, unyielding determination. "Well, they've never messed with an angel of death who needs to protect her child," she replied, her voice low and calm. "And you're not the boy they once dominated. You're their nightmare coming back to take them down."
He glanced over at her. Her jaw was jutted out, her hands fisted by her sides, her blue eyes blazing. Yeah, she was pale, and moved as if each step was a tremendous effort, but there was a dark, almost violent energy pouring off her. The angel of death has come to life, he said softly, unable to keep the admiration from his voice.
She looked over at him. I've been fighting my not-so-nice side my whole life. It's time to finally use it. She gave him a grim smile. I'm really not that nice, you know.
He grinned. I'm not sure they have souls for you to take.
Everything has a soul...until I come get it. Catherine reached the gates and looked up at them. They stood more than forty feet above their heads. "Mama's here, Lucy," she said into the darkness. "It's almost over."
As Ryland watched Cat make promises to her daughter, a sense of deep longing came over him. The bond between Catherine and her daughter was incredible, evident in the depth of her words, in the emotion pulsing t
hrough her, in her absolute lack of fear. He could feel the intensity of her love, the absolute commitment of her entire being to that little girl. It was pure selflessness. Pure...love? Yes, it was. For the first time in his life, he was witnessing—and experiencing—the real thing. He'd never understood the power of it until that moment.
Oh, he knew loyalty, the kind that was so deep that a man would give his life for it.
He knew honor.
But love...that was different...and it was fucking incredible. Without even thinking about it, he locked his hand behind Catherine's neck and kissed her. It wasn't a kiss of passion, lust, or even desire. It was a kiss full of what she'd been putting out into the world. He wasn't a soft guy. He wasn't kind. He wasn't tender. But in that moment, he strove to be all that. For this one instant, he wanted to offer Catherine that which she gave others, including him.
She stiffened, and then kissed him back just as gently and sweetly. It was, he was quite certain, the very best, most hopeful, most beautiful moment he'd ever experienced...which was exactly what he needed before reentering his past.
Stephanie Rowe - Darkness Unleashed Page 23