The Phantom King (The Kings)

by Killough-Walden, Heather

  Roman took his seat and began to divulge the details of each of their issues when there was a sudden disturbance in the air. It was not unpleasant, and it was very familiar.

  He looked up in time to watch the expressions on each of the Kings’ faces change as they too noticed the vibration. Some were surprised.

  He was not. Neither was Jason Alberich, who also clearly recognized the signature of the sensation.

  Switching gears, Roman straightened, standing fully once more. “Gentlemen, I would like to introduce the very wise and venerable high witch, Lalura Chantelle.”

  As soon as the words were past his lips, the air above the table began to shimmer. Roman watched in silence as his very old friend made her dramatic appearance amidst a cloud of gray smoke and a flash of bright light.

  The Kings sat back in their seats to stare up at the newcomer who now stood at her full four feet of height in the center of the polished redwood table.

  She was facing away from Roman when she appeared, and with a quick look around, a small sound of irritation, and a jostling of old bones, she turned to face him. Her heels scraped the table beneath her. Roman took a deep, slow breath.

  The high witch who appeared to be half dwarf, half elf looked down at Roman, her clear blue eyes piercing him through to the soul. “You don’t look good, Roman,” she told him. “I’m the one who isn’t supposed to look good at my age.”

  No one had ever popped into a meeting of the 13 Kings before. No one even knew of the location of the meeting places, and they changed geographically every time. However, he could not summon the effort it would have required to be taken aback by Lalura’s intrusion. He just wasn’t surprised.

  This was Lalura. He should have known it would only be a matter of time.

  He moved forward and, with long-learned grace, he offered her his hand to help her down.

  She accepted without a word, using his empty chair as a step stool. When she was standing beside him, she straightened her robe, adjusted her cane, and said, “I won’t take much of your time.” Her tone was somber and strict. “The gods know I have duties to attend to elsewhere.” She turned, shot Alberich a knowing glance, and the Warlock King gave her a single, slow nod of recognition.

  She looked at Thanatos next. “I’ve only come to give something to the Phantom King.”

  Thane watched her in silence. He was an untouchable kind of king, made of things intangible and mysterious. His world was so desolate and so stark, the very fabric of his being seemed to reflect its harshness. He did not cower before Lalura’s piercing gaze, and he did not speak. He had a lot on his plate, and whatever the old witch wished to give him would probably seem inconsequential to the troubles brewing within him.

  Lalura leaned on her cane and made her way in his direction. As she walked, she looked at each of the kings, her gaze steady and keen, her small form unnaturally strong in the presence of so many sharp-toothed men.

  “This meeting is distinctly lacking in femininity,” her voice scratched disapprovingly. “But that will change,” she said softly.

  When she came to stand before the Phantom King, Thane grasped the armrests of his chair, pushed it out, and stood, gesturing for her to sit in his place.

  Roman quietly approved. Thane was ready to kill; as much was apparent by the flash of fang he revealed when his lips parted. And yet he remembered to be a gentleman. His behavior was that of a true king.

  Lalura shook her head, “No thank you,” she said, reaching out to brace herself on his tall form as she stopped, turned around, and began heading in the opposite direction once more.

  Roman frowned. “Lalura, did you not wish to give something to Thanatos?” he asked.

  “Oh, I already did,” she said, waving her hand dismissively.

  Roman looked over at Thane, who still stood beside his chair and was clearly empty-handed.

  Lalura glanced over her shoulder at Thane. “Check your pockets, dear,” she said. And then she turned back to Roman. “And you, Roman,” she said, “Thank you for the introduction,” she relented. “It was very kind of you.”

  “If I hadn’t introduced you Lalura,” Roman said, chancing a glance at the men in the room and smiling a tight smile. “You might be dead right now.”

  She either didn’t hear him or didn’t feel the need to justify his words with further response, because she changed the subject at once. Her tone lowering, her expression growing serious, she leaned forward. The blue of her eyes intensified. He found himself bending to meet her. “The wolf is at the door old friend,” she said. “And it’s like no other wolf you know.”

  She straightened and shot the werewolf Overseer Jesse Graves a look. “No offense, Jesse.”

  The black man inclined his head. “None taken.”

  With that, the high witch disappeared. No fairy dust or smoke or poof or drama this time. She simply vanished into thin air.

  Roman looked over at Thane as Lalura’s words echoed through his mind. Thane slipped his right hand into his pocket and blinked. When he pulled it back out again, he was holding a chess piece.

  A crimson colored queen.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The one on the right, she thought. He was the bigger of the two, though not by much. If she took him out first, she would have a better chance at taking out the second guy.

  Just as Siobhan thought she was going to have to let loose with some of the pent-up anxiety brewing inside of her, the door to the room Thane had disappeared through opened once more. Siobhan whirled to face it, her red hair flying all around her like a fanned flame. That same flame was crackling in her eyes; she could feel it. She was pissed off and she wanted answers yesterday.

  The man with the piercing black eyes came through the doorway first. Siobhan glared at him, the magic within her no longer caring how terrifying or charismatic he was. He watched her with an ultimate air of calm, and unless she was imagining it, there was even a hint of amusement in the depths of his dark eyes. He moved into the study and his gaze flicked to the men at the door. He nodded.

  Siobhan turned in time to see the men open the door and step through it to close it behind them.

  She spun back around as Thanatos entered the room behind his suit-wearing companion and the moment he appeared, a bit of Siobhan’s fury slipped away. She looked at him, at his beautiful face with its shadow of scruff and its piercing silver eyes, and some of the unyielding anger that had been hardening her heart over the last twenty minutes melted.

  He was perfect.

  Had she noticed it the last time she’d seen him? The way his jeans hugged every curve, the boots, the jacket, the hair that brushed his leather collar – the sheer masculinity of him? Had she paid it the heed it deserved?

  She realized in that moment that she’d been missing him. She’d barely met him, had spent mere hours with him, and yet the entire time she’d been alone in that study with the guards, she’d been thinking about Thanatos and how she couldn’t wait to see him again.

  It was a sobering realization.

  Those silver eyes of his at once found hers and locked on as he stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. She felt held by him through that gaze, nailed in place, shackled and bound, and Siobhan was filled with the oddest sensation. It was as if the Phantom King were as entranced, as shocked, and as desperate to lay eyes upon her as she had been with him.

  Was that possible? Or was it just wishful thinking?

  A soft, deep chuckle tore her from her strange reverie and ripped her gaze from Thane’s. She looked over at the man in the suit. He was watching them both, his eyes moving from one to the other, his expression knowing and definitely amused.

  “Siobhan, I’m afraid that much must be shared with you and that we haven’t a lot of time in which to share it,” said the stranger. “But I’ll begin by introducing myself. I am Roman D’Angelo,” he said, placing his fingers to his chest by way of introduction. He bowed slightly. “The Vampire King.”

  *
****

  Thane saw the emotions flicker across Siobhan’s beautiful brown eyes one after another. First was surprise. Then fear. Then wariness. Then came plain old weariness. She looked from Roman to him and back again. And then she looked down at the floor and pinched the bridge of her nose, and Thane had never been more tempted in his life to pull a woman into his arms in order to comfort her.

  He made his way toward her, but something told him to give her a bit of space, so he stopped a few feet away and suggested softly, “Please sit down, Siobhan.”

  But she shook her head and sighed. “The Vampire King?” she asked incredulously, her voice soft and breathy. She closed her eyes. “You’re not shitting me, are you,” she whispered.

  That last bit wasn’t a question. It was a flagging statement of fact, a realization that in her tired state, she was simply admitting to herself aloud.

  “No,” Roman said. He had used a little of his magic to clean them both up so that neither of them looked as battle worn any longer. Now the Vampire King appeared as put together and in control as ever. He moved around his desk, pulled open a drawer, and procured from its depths a bottle of liquor and a single crystal glass. The glass he filled with the alcohol before making his way to Siobhan.

  She looked up when she saw the tips of his shoes on the carpet in front of her. He offered her the glass. “As I said, we have much to discuss,” he told her as he bent and took her hand to press the glass into it. “So drink up and have a seat because we’re truly short on time.”

  Another twenty minutes later, Thane was standing beside a large love seat in which Siobhan sat, and Roman D’Angelo was reclined against his desk, his palms wrapped around its edges, his eyes on the young warlock. He’d explained to her everything essential, such as the existence of the various supernatural factions, the thirteen kings, and the sudden rogue behavior of the Akyri King, Marius.

  Now she was silent and her gaze was locked on the fire Roman had called to life in the hearth. Thane could only imagine what must be going through her head.

  And with what he was about to tell her, it was probably about to get worse.

  “I’m taking you back to Purgatory,” he said. He could also take her to the astral plane, since as far as he knew, only the late Charles Ward and Roman D’Angelo were astral masters capable of traversing that particular plane along with him, and it was far less harsh than his own. He could even send his own Anime into the astral plane, so he was not without power there. However, he was certainly stronger in his own realm, and at the moment he wanted that extra edge.

  As he’d expected, she looked at him with wide eyes and a building anger, despite the alcohol she’d imbibed.

  He’d thought hard about how to get her to agree to come back with him. In the end, Steven Lazarus’ words about her stubbornness played a big part in his decision. If she wouldn’t come back to protect herself, then maybe she would do it to protect someone else.

  After all, she’d gone several decades without using the potent power within her to hurt another person. Knowing how often people tempted violence, that could only mean she really cared about humanity. She wouldn’t have been so upset about the unfairness of Purgatory if she didn’t.

  And so Thane went for the jugular, hitting her where it counted. Before she could object, he said, “Marius has sworn to come after you. As long as you remain here, you’re not only endangering yourself, but everyone around you.”

  Siobhan paused mid-breath. She closed her mouth, looked up at Roman, glanced over her shoulder toward the door through which the guards had disappeared, and then turned back around to face Thane again.

  He saved her from having to admit he was right. “Please come back with me, Siobhan. I promise to make you comfortable until the other kings and I have dealt with Marius.”

  He had yet to tell her about the chess piece resting in his jacket. He touched it now as he slipped his hand into his pocket and it rolled beneath his touch. He had yet to tell her about the dreams he’d had about her before they’d met.

  He was being rushed through this, through what were probably the most important moments in his existence, and for that he wanted to take fate out behind the tool shed and beat the fucking crap out of it.

  “Tell me about it,” said Roman suddenly from where he still stood leaning against one of the book shelves, his arms crossed over his chest. Thane looked up and their eyes met. Silent understanding passed between them. Roman had gone through the same thing with Evelynne, his own queen.

  Beside him, Siobhan leaned to one side and eyed Roman with a mixture of confusion and a hint of the anger she was probably actually feeling toward Thane. “Tell you about what?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” Thane said. He reached out, gently grasped her by the chin, and turned her head back to face him. He caught her eyes with his and a thrill of electric warmth rushed through him.

  It felt good to touch her like this. It felt powerful. A rush of adrenaline went through him, a thrill of something like anticipation and, for the thousandth time since meeting her, he was tempted to touch so much more.

  “We’re going back to my realm,” he told her, his tone deep and personal and determined.

  But Siobhan wasn’t the kind of woman who liked being bossed around. She jerked out of his grip and shoved to her feet. She only swayed a little, most likely dizzy from the sudden change in positions and from the alcohol in her system. Her brown gaze narrowed, lightening to amber. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Phantom King,” she said, her own tone just as determined as his had been.

  Thane waited, holding his breath. He sensed the battle coming like a rumble on the train tracks. Across the room, the Vampire King looked on with quiet interest.

  “If you’re right and this Akyri really is coming for me,” Siobhan continued, “then far be it from me to pose a danger to anyone around me.”

  Thane noticed the slight glow to her fingertips. Her eyes were growing lighter, almost yellow now.

  “So I’ll leave,” she said. “But not to that barren wasteland you call a realm. If Marius wants me, he can have me. I’ll track the fucker down myself and rip his goddamn head off.”

  Thane froze. A shock went through him – one of fear, anger, and admiration. He was afraid to lose her, he was afraid for her life, and he was afraid of the confrontation that was looming on their horizon. He was angry that she was bringing this on, that she wouldn’t listen to reason, and that she wanted to face off with a man like Marius without his help. But amidst these harsh, demanding emotions was a hint of respect. He admired her for facing her problems head-on. He didn’t want to admit it.

  But he did.

  “You’re a brave woman,” said Roman. “I’ll give you that.” Thane and Siobhan both turned to look at him. He remained where he was, leaning casually against the books behind him, his arms still crossed over his chest. “But how exactly do you think you’ll face a man like the Akyri King?” He waited, pausing for just a moment before he added, “Will you use your magic?”

  Siobhan looked ready to reply with an affirmative right away, but a half-second later, the reality of what he’d just said hit her. She couldn’t fight Marius with magic. He would simply absorb it all and it would make him stronger, not weaker. In fact, that was probably what Marius wanted most in the world right now: For the young Siobhan Ashdown to use her magic on him.

  “I…” she hesitated, swallowing hard. “Well, I….”

  Roman saved her from further uncertainty. “Anyone else in the world, you might have a chance against. Well, anyone save Thanatos,” he added, shooting Thane a sharp, very slightly amused glance before he straightened, coming off of the shelves and slipping his hands into his suit pockets. “But Marius will use everything you have against you and you will lose.” He moved around his desk, his gaze on the rug under his shoes as if he were contemplating something. “This much, I can promise you.”

  Siobhan bit her lip and closed her eyes, her frustration palpable. “The
n what the hell am I supposed to do?”

  “Come with me,” Thane told her, drawing her attention back to him. He caught her now gold gaze and held it. “Come back to where I know you’ll be safe,” he reiterated, and because he couldn’t help it, he cupped her soft, beautiful face in his palm and slowly rubbed his thumb along her cheek bone. She felt like heaven in his hand.

  Her large eyes glossed over.

  He smiled. “And let’s just take it from there.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “What will happen with Steven?” Siobhan asked after she finally nodded and Thane prepared to open a portal for them both back to Purgatory. The question brought him up short. He glanced at Roman and their eyes met.

  When the four of them – the three kings and Lazarus – had faced off against the Akyri King, Steven Lazarus hadn’t felt like just another outsider. He hadn’t felt like a former detective or even a mere half-Akyri. He’d felt like a vital part of their formation. Like family.

  Thane had no idea how else to describe it, and he didn’t trust himself to try to relay the feeling out loud. But from the look Roman was giving him just then, it was clear that he was not the only one who’d felt that way.

  When Marius disappeared and left the four of them there together, Steven Lazarus had been the first to take his leave….

  “Is Siobhan safe?” the Akyri had asked, his eyes fading from red to purple and back to their natural blue.

  Thane had nodded.

  “Make certain it stays that way,” Steven had said. And then he’d stepped back. “There is something I need to do.” He’d turned away, and as if he’d been absorbing magic and re-casting it his entire life instead of learning he was an Akyri all of an hour ago, he actually transported out of the destroyed mansion. Zap – he was gone.

  No one questioned where he’d gone. He’d left a lingering impression, but the other three were shell shocked and angry and not at all looking forward to the tasks ahead. Roman had informed them that they would need to call a meeting of the Kings, and they’d all transported away as well.