The Phantom King (The Kings)

by Killough-Walden, Heather

  “About what?” she asked. It would be ten running steps to the foot of the staircase, another seventeen steps to the second floor, and eight steps after that to the bedroom door. She knew. She’d counted them.

  “About what you are.” He eyed her warily. “About what Steven Lazarus now is.”

  “Thane,” she repeated, ignoring his question. “Is that it?” She hedged a little closer to the edge of the wall, preparing to break into a run. “No last name?”

  “It’s short for Thanatos,” he told her. “No last name, and believe me you won’t get two steps in before I catch you.”

  Siobhan froze, inside and out. The incisors she’d noticed before were longer now. Fangs. Like a vampire’s.

  Or a demon’s, she added. No matter what the hell he says.

  Thanatos, she mentally repeated. She’d heard it somewhere before, hadn’t she? She was so confused; her world was tilting. Nothing made sense any longer.

  “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she lied as her gaze slid from his teeth to his starlight eyes. She knew exactly what he was talking about. He was looking for Steven’s ghost. She didn’t know why and she didn’t know how, but she understood that much plainly. “And I didn’t invite you into my home.” Spoken like Buffy. “You’re trespassing,” she added, as if to smooth over the vampire reference. “Leave or I swear I’ll call the cops.”

  She pulled her phone from the back pocket of her cut-off jeans. She’d taken it with her outside on the off chance that she would receive calls while gardening. The stranger – Thanatos or Thane or whatever – might have been magic incarnate, and with those teeth, the gods only knew what else he was. And maybe she couldn’t run from him either. But as she dialed 9-1- and kept her finger poised over the final one, she placed a bet with the fates that he at least didn’t want an audience of blue and whites to show up and ruin his night.

  At that, Thanatos laughed. The chuckle was real, and deep, and the sound was intoxicating.

  “Okay,” he said, “you go ahead and do that. Call the cops. Tell them that a stranger who is immune to warlock magic just broke into your house because he’s looking for the ghost of your dead boyfriend.” He took another step.

  Siobhan bumped into the wall behind her.

  “In fact,” he said, glancing once more at the darkening house around them before settling his eyes on her again, “why don’t you save us both a lot of time and trouble and just call the good detective himself?”

  “She doesn’t need to,” came a voice from behind him. Siobhan tore her eyes from his to crane her neck and peek around him. The sun had gone completely down and a gloom had settled over the house, deepening the shadows. Across the living room stood Steven Lazarus, his tall, strong form as real and solid as ever. “I’m here,” he said. “You want me, Phantom King?” His blue eyes were now officially glowing. “Come and get me.”

  Chapter Ten

  The words had almost come pouring from his mouth. “It’s you,” he said. And then he’d almost let everything spill then and there.

  Thane had known that there would be some kind of magic within the mansion. Whoever lived here was the driver of the Mustang that had broken every law of physics known to man. He’d been expecting some kind of force, and he’d even half expected it to be a woman once he put two and two together, realized that someone by the name of “Siobhan” was behind the rogue Anime’s escape from Purgatory, and recognized the power signature coming from the house’s façade.

  So he’d thought himself prepared when he approached the house and knocked on the door. The cat should have tipped him off. It was a rogue spirit, too, a cat long dead that had, for some unknown reason, returned to the Earthly plane and was now more solid than any ghost he had ever encountered.

  “Can I help you?” came a tentative voice, husky but wary. He’d put the beauty of its sound on a backburner, knowing he needed to focus on finding the spirit and heading back to do his job.

  But then he’d stood up and turned to face the door – and everything in the universe changed for him then and there.

  A mass of thick and wavy deep russet hair framed a face so fair, a delicate smattering of freckles decorated the bridge of a petite, upturned nose. A China doll chin, perfect, small ears, and a wide, sexy mouth entranced him. But most stunning of all were the eyes, a brown so pale they were amber, sparked by the golden highlights in her auburn hair.

  Those eyes gazed out at him, wide and innocent, and in the space of that short eternity and across the endless distance of the few inches that separated them, they captured his heart as nothing else ever had.

  Siobhan. He remembered her name. Steven Lazarus had spoken it.

  It all hit him at once, every last ounce of it, flooring him emotionally and taking the wind from his lungs. He had no idea how long he remained there staring at her, unspeaking, unblinking, and unmoving.

  It was a millennium before he found himself leaning forward, his hands gripping the sides of the door, his entire body, spirit and mind wanting nothing more than to touch her, to infiltrate her, and to be enveloped by her all at once.

  “It’s you,” he said, his voice sounding far off to his own ears. “You’re the one I’ve been…”

  Dreaming of.

  That’s what he’d almost said.

  But some wariness in the depths of her magnetic eyes had pulled him up short, and he’d swallowed the last of the sentence, holding it within himself as if to save it for a later date.

  Not yet, his mind had whispered. She’s not ready. Not yet.

  In a heartbeat, he changed directions. “You were the one I sensed on the Anime. It’s your power keeping him here, isn’t it?” It was true, at least. Not only was she the woman he’d been dreaming of, he recognized the signature of the aura around her as the same that had surrounded Lazarus just before his disappearance. It was what had drawn him back to the house to begin with. He just didn’t know what it meant.

  Siobhan told him to leave, but he ignored the command. It was weakly issued and he knew she didn’t mean it. Not really. At least, he hoped she didn’t. Because there was no way in hell he could leave, especially not now.

  He looked deeper into her eyes, pushed harder past the barrier of her aura, and tried to read her with everything he had. As he did, he realized that she was a magic user. And not just any magic user, but a warlock.

  It was unexpected and peculiar. There was an incorruption about her, a purity and stainlessness that was not normally found with regards to warlocks. It was as if she’d possessed the ability to do great harm from the moment she’d been old enough to walk – and yet had never used it.

  The sparkles in the darkness, he realized. That was what had made her dark power so beautiful when it had surrounded Lazarus’ Anime. It glittered and shone like pixie dust – because it was not yet evil. Only dark. And there was not anything inherently wrong with that. After all, it was in purest darkness that one was most able to see the stars.

  A warlock who did no harm. Such a thing was nearly unheard of. The strength it must have taken to come this far astounded him.

  But as he pondered this, as he took it all in, he felt the balance of life and death ripple elsewhere in the world. A car bomb had just taken twelve lives. Just like that, in the course of a mere fraction of moments.

  The human race had no idea how precious life was. The very improbability of existence was taken for granted, and yet a living creature was so rare, it was as the astronomer Carl Sagan had once spoken: “In a hundred billion galaxies, you will not find another.”

  And just like that, Thanatos was needed elsewhere. Once more, the tug of time was growing too strong and he knew that his moments on this plane were limited. He had a job to get back to.

  “Please leave,” she repeated.

  But he couldn’t do that. Not without you, he thought.

  No, he corrected himself. His own mind was going rogue now it would seem. “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said
aloud. Not without Steven Lazarus.

  Two things occurred to Thane just then. One, if Lazarus had returned here in order to protect this woman, then probably the best way to draw the ghost out was to threaten her in some manner. And two, if Lazarus had returned here in order to protect Siobhan, he must have cared for her. There were no rings on her fingers, and no shadow or dent that would have indicated she’d ever worn one. So she’d never been married. Steven Lazarus must have been a boyfriend.

  Thanatos very sternly decided to let the second observation go in favor of concentrating on the first. He hadn’t the time to deal with the anger the other evoked.

  Siobhan’s reaction to his words should have been expected. She may have been innocent, but she was probably far from stupid. He was a grown man, a stranger, and she was a beautiful woman, otherwise alone. His words and his presence were the unfortunate straw that broke the warlock’s resolve, and Thane experienced a stark sadness as he watched her magic pool into her hands, her natural response to the beckoning of the danger he presented.

  Because of him, she was going to use magic against a person. It tore at him, that knowledge, and he hated himself for what he was forcing her to do.

  Even so, he remained resolute and moved forward, entering her house uninvited to shut the door firmly behind him.

  Of course, the bolt of power that shot from her hand had no effect on him. He was the Phantom King, and as such, magic on this material plane had as much of an impact on him as it would upon a literal phantom – a ghost. That is to say, none.

  The energy bolt wrapped around him, diverted as if by a shield until it fizzled out of existence entirely.

  “How….”

  “Your magic won’t hurt me, warlock,” he told her, taking a step forward and shaking his head in reprimand. It was best to look as threatening as possible, though the very thought of it was pulling at something in his guts and making him slightly sick. “And I have to say,” he added, as if in defiance of his own hesitation. “That wasn’t very nice.” He allowed his expression to darken and smiled a cruel, closed-lipped smile.

  He also moved forward again, making his way further into the house, feeling the weight and pressure of time as he sent out his mental feelers in search of the Anime. He still came up empty. Steven Lazarus must have known who he was, what he was, and what would happen if he appeared. Clearly, he’d been a detective in life for a reason.

  But Thane was only partly upset by Steven’s refusal to show. The waiting dead were piling up and time was not his friend, and yet a very large part of him wanted this to go on forever. As long as Lazarus resisted… Thane would be here, in this house, backing the little warlock into a corner.

  Was it wrong of him?

  Who the fuck cares.

  Siobhan’s second attack was stronger. She raised both of her arms this time, and the power that gathered in her hands was ten times greater than the blast she’d initially released. It was her fear reacting now, charging her up like an electrical outlet and setting her off like lightning.

  If he allowed her power to simply bounce off of him this time, there was a chance it would damage things around him – the door, the walls, the floor. And there was also a chance that some of it would escape, possibly through the windows or even straight through the structure of the house. A bystander might see or even be harmed, and Siobhan’s secret would be out.

  So Thane raised his right hand this time and waited for the blast to come his way. When it did, he concentrated, absorbing it into a single pin point of ever-densening magic before crushing it in his palm with a tightening of his fist.

  That did it. The terror was plainly visible in the warlock’s eyes, an echo of her desperation that set the sparks of gold blazing. “Who the hell are you?” she demanded. “Oh my God,” she said before he could reply, “you’re the demon. You killed Steven.” There was a tremor to her voice, an unsettled wavering to her tone that hinted of hysterics.

  You’re a bastard, Thane, his inner voice accused.

  But he frowned at the mention of a demon. Demon? And then he remembered. Steven Lazarus was killed by a demon. The detective had been murdered by a monster who’d literally set him on fire.

  He realized that Siobhan thought he was that demon, and that he’d returned in order to finish the job.

  “No,” he said right away. “I absolutely did not kill Steven Lazarus.” He wanted that to be very, very clear. “But he is the reason I am here,” he added. He stepped forward again, and Siobhan stepped back. The tiny movement brought out the predator in him, cueing up the thrill of the chase.

  “I know he’s here somewhere,” he continued. He pulled his gaze from hers and glanced around the old house. Show yourself Lazarus, he thought. The house was quiet around them, no hint of Steven’s ghost making itself known.

  Thane took a chance and turned his back on the warlock as he continued to search the mansion’s corners for any sign of the Anime. “I can feel him.”

  “Who are you?” Siobhan repeated herself. Thane turned back around to face her, and as he did the beauty of her visage once more entranced him. He was losing himself to her.

  “My name is Thane,” he told her. His tone had gone considerably softer since the last time he’d spoken. He couldn’t help it when faced with her. “I’m….” He held off. He’d been about to tell her he was the Phantom King. But that innocence that he saw in her eyes spoke of more than an absence of knowledge about killing. It reflected an absence of knowledge about the supernatural world in general.

  She doesn’t know, he realized.

  She didn’t know who the Phantom King was or probably who any of the 13 Kings were. She most likely barely realized who and what she was. Which might be part of the reason she had yet to do anyone any real harm. It was easier to give in to black magic when you had a support group for doing so. It was gang mentality. Another opiate of the masses. If she’d thought she was alone, she would have been forced to make her own decisions, to consider the right and wrong of her actions on their own merit.

  He considered his options. “How much do you know, warlock?”

  “About what?” she asked. The tremor was still there in the lovely huskiness of her voice. She was scared, but hopefully she was realizing by now that he meant her no harm.

  “About what you are,” he told her. Her gaze flicked to the side, and his own gaze narrowed. He eyed her warily, noticing that she inched ever so slowly to her right.

  Maybe not, he thought with a mental sigh. She was thinking escape thoughts. Probably planning to run up the stairs, he told himself. There might have been a weapon of some kind on the second floor.

  Keep calm, Thane. “About what Steven Lazarus now is,” he added, choosing to ignore the fact that she took another tiny step to the right.

  “Thane,” she repeated, blatantly ignoring his question. “Is that it?” she asked incredulously. She hedged a little closer to the edge of the wall, clearly preparing to break into a run. “No last name?”

  “It’s short for Thanatos,” he told her as his jaw clenched and his hands curled into fists at his sides. He was not of this world, not merely man, not nearly mortal, and the canines that were always slightly longer than the norm for a human now lengthened in his mouth, becoming full-fledged fangs. “No last name, and believe me, you won’t get two steps in before I catch you.”

  Siobhan froze, her eyes moving to his mouth, where his fangs were no doubt clearly showing.

  “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she so horribly lied.

  He knew that she knew damn well what he was talking about. But she was protective of Lazarus. Which did not help Thane’s mood. “And I didn’t invite you into my home,” she continued. “You’re trespassing. Leave or I swear I’ll call the cops.”

  She pulled a small cell from her back pocket and hastily dialed two of the three numbers it would take to connect her.

  Thane couldn’t help it. He laughed. It was a real laugh, pulled from the
depths of his belly. He was just under too much fucking stress for this.

  “Okay,” he said, “you go ahead and do that. Call the cops. Tell them that a stranger who is immune to warlock magic just broke into your house because he’s looking for the ghost of your dead boyfriend.” He took another step.

  Siobhan bumped into the wall behind her.

  “In fact,” he added, knowing that this was it. Either Steven showed himself now or Thane could not be held responsible for what he resorted to. His teeth were out, his ire was up, and Siobhan’s full, alluring mouth was driving him just a little bit bonkers. If the bastard rogue Anime didn’t materialize in time to stop him, he was going to slam the sexy little warlock up against the wall, trap her there with a firm grip, and kiss the living hell out of her.

  “Why don’t you save us both a lot of time and trouble and just call the good detective himself?”

  “She doesn’t need to,” came a voice from behind him. Siobhan tore her eyes from his to crane her neck and peek around him. As she did, she exposed her throat to him, and his fangs throbbed in his mouth.

  It was something he had in common with the Vampire King. Roman D’Angelo imbibed in blood because he had to; it was the liquid of life.

  Thanatos enjoyed the occasional taste not because it sustained him, but because it gave him a high. It really was the liquid of life. And the Phantom King never felt more alive than when he infused his own phantomesque, barely-there veins with the very essence of human existence.

  But the Anime had finally arrived.

  And there would be time for fun later. Thane would make certain of that.

  Slowly, he turned to face the rogue spirit. Steven Lazarus had materialized in the living room, his tall form as real and solid as he was. “I’m here,” he told Thane, defiance etched into his handsome features. “You want me, Phantom King? Come and get me.”