Siobhan Ashdown was going to rock the world. And though he was actually looking forward to her evolution in some ways, he was currently dreading their next confrontation.
The rip in time and space opened one last time before him, the light at the end of the strange, beautiful tunnel, and Thane stepped into the predestined location where he would be meeting Roman and several members of the werewolf community.
He glanced at their surroundings very quickly, taking it all in. It was a clearing in the midst of a giant forest, and as the sheer height of the Redwood trees around him made their indomitable impression, he recalled that vampires were particularly fond of the Western Seaboard. The air was wet, but the temperature was mild, and vampires had some kind of affinity for Redwoods, in particular.
The unspoken leader of the 13 Kings, Roman D’Angelo, stood apart from the others who had gathered and now met Thane at the center of the clearing.
The Vampire King studied him closely. “Based on the new ink on your right ring finger, I might assume things went well.” He paused, looked back up at Thane’s eyes, and smiled a rather amused smile. “But from the aura you’re currently sporting, I would ultimately guess otherwise.”
“She’s stubborn,” Thane said by way of explanation.
Roman’s smile broadened, flashing fangs. “The best ones are.”
He turned and faced the others now, who slowly joined them near the center of the small field. The smell of wet bark, sea salt, and earth seemed to cleanse the air. It was mid-morning, and despite the dangerous, predatory power gathered in the forest, small fauna could be heard going about their business not far away.
Six werewolves in all had agreed to meet with Thane: Three men and three women. Jesse Graves, the werewolf council Overseer, had apparently brought them up to speed and asked them this favor.
The man Thane recognized at once among the group stood at well over six feet and had eyes like clouded emeralds. He would have been recognizable to millions of people, in all fairness, but only a few select individuals knew him to be more than a rather famous author of best-selling murder mysteries.
Malcolm Cole stood with his arm wrapped both lovingly and possessively around the shoulders of a tall, beautiful red-head that reminded Thane a little of Siobhan. He knew who she was, of course. Everyone did.
Cole and his fiancé Charlie, also known as Claire, were the two werewolves Thane was most hoping would help him in this. The red-headed Charlie was a beautiful woman, tall and lean and wickedly fast. She was the granddaughter of the former Overseer, and most importantly, she herself had been the subject of a very dangerous obsession. Thane had asked for her specifically because he was hoping she could help Siobhan come to grips with what was happening. And if worse came to worst, Thane trusted Charlie to put up one hell of a fight in defending Thane’s bride.
Four couples constituted the most famous werewolf couples alive today. The eight wolves were a close-knit group, the best of friends, and had been through a veritable war to make that bond strong. Thanatos was incredibly encouraged that three of those four couples were here right now. And he completely understood the absence of the fourth. The Healer Dannai Caige and her husband had their own issues to deal with, and she had her own loved ones to protect.
Thane and Roman approached the group. Malcolm looked straight into Thane’s eyes. “He’ll never stop coming for her,” the werewolf told him.
Thane nodded. “I know.”
“We’ll take care of Siobhan,” said Charlie, who turned to gesture toward her two female friends. “Lily and I will see that she isn’t alone. Kat will go with you.”
Katherine Dare, a tall white-blonde haired woman with porcelain skin and an unidentifiable fierceness about her nodded at Thane. Beside her stood Byron Caige, a man with light gray eyes much like Thane’s, and who apparently possessed the mind-boggling ability to manipulate electricity. It was an indescribable boon.
“The Curse Breaker is a former Hunter and one of our most skilled fighters,” said Daniel Kane, the black-haired, blue-eyed Cajun man that Thane knew was the police chief of Baton Rouge.
“Then I would rather that you stay with Siobhan,” said Thane as he turned to face the fair-haired woman. He was having a very hard time leaving his queen behind in his realm. He knew she was safer there. Marius might be able to traverse the same portals as Thane could, but Purgatory was off-limits to anyone Thane didn’t want there.
But at the same time, he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was vulnerable. All alone. He wanted to surround her with a SWAT team, with an army of dragons, shadows and goblins, and with Iron Man.
However, it took a lot of energy and effort to bring someone into Purgatory. If they were quintessentially of another realm, it was infinitely more difficult. Vampires and werewolves were of Earth. Whatever else might be said about their supernatural statuses, they were born of the spinning blue planet. Like mortals, they were made of star stuff.
He could send them into Purgatory without draining himself, and that was essential.
“Your problem won’t go away until we make it go away,” Cole told him, using a placating and gentle tone. He was speaking from experience.
“But he’s afraid to leave his mate unprotected,” said Charlie, who drew her fiancé’s gaze at once. She gave him a meaningful look, and Cole straightened, a muscle in his jaw ticking. He was no doubt remembering the fight he’d had against one Gabriel Phelan, the Hunter-werewolf who had been so obsessed with Charlie, he’d come back from the dead to obtain her.
“You’re right,” Cole said simply. And left it at that.
“You’ll be accompanied by a few of Roman’s vampires,” Thane told the women. He wanted to send some of the men he knew personally, but Roman had suggested Siobhan would more readily identify with women in this case, hence the arrival of Charlie, Lily Kane, and Katherine Dare. He would be sending two female vampires that Roman trusted as well.
He only hoped it was an unnecessary waste of man – or woman – power. And that if it wasn’t, it would at least be enough.
“I can’t thank you enough for what you’re doing for me,” Thane told them. He meant it. “I owe you one.”
*****
Siobhan lifted her head from where she had it in her hands and blew out another breath. She stood up from Thane’s couch, walked across the living room, and turned and strode back again. Then she ran her hands through her hair, fisted it tight, and growled in frustration.
Not really knowing why, but just needing to move somewhere even if it was aimless, Siobhan stormed from the living room into the kitchen and then through the garage door. Rows and rows of shimmering, glimmering vehicles greeted her, the sheer glory of them bringing her to a stop and temporarily causing her to forget her ire.
But it didn’t last long. Her honey-colored eyes skirted over them, taking in their spotless paint jobs with the detached air of someone who had something else on her mind.
Just as she was about to begin vehemently cursing Thane for the third time that morning, the air rippled with an impending sensation. She recognized it at once. It was the same fluctuating resonance that had been produced moments before each of the Anime had come through in the garage earlier.
Siobhan stilled, turning her attention to a rippling portion of the air that hovered above the nearest vehicles like a will-o-wisp. The tattoo on her right ring finger tingled.
She glanced down, noticed it was glowing, and without thinking, she raised her right hand palm-out toward the airborne disturbance. The power that surged from her arm was foreign to her, and it surprised her enough that her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat. But at the same time, it felt right. It felt no different coming from her than did her own magic. It was natural.
Because she was the Phantom Queen.
The rippling space expanded, brightened until it resembled a burgeoning portal, and then it opened up. The air split apart, and for a few seconds, Siobhan wasn’t certain anything was going
to come through.
But then the Anime appeared, tentative and hunched, its arms wrapped tightly around its own body as if to protect itself. It was a woman. She was dressed in blue jeans and a blood stained top.
The woman looked at Siobhan, her expression a harsh and horrible mixture of grief and terrible fear. “Are you Siobhan?” she asked, her quivering voice coming through loud and clear.
“Yes,” Siobhan replied. A thick and cold dread was beginning to creep up her body, enveloping her legs and the base of her spine. “I am.”
“You have to go to him,” the woman told her. “Please, I beg you. If you don’t, he’s going to kill them both!” She sobbed hopelessly, the sound hysterical and desperate. It was a wretched sound, crushing and awful. “Please,” she continued. “He said you would know what he meant. You have to go now.” She held her hands out toward Siobhan, as if she could physically make her leave. “He’s only giving you a few minutes!” The woman lunged forward, her blood-covered hands clasping in front of her as if praying. She flickered like an electric light in a storm and fell to her knees on some invisible floor in mid-air. “He said you had to transport to Pier 36 in San Francisco. It’s condemned.” She broke into another sob, and visibly tried to pull herself together.
Siobhan could only continue to listen while she watched through wide, bewildered eyes.
“He’s giving you five minutes,” the woman told her firmly. She looked up at Siobhan through a blurry, horrified gaze. She gritted her teeth. “If you don’t get there on time, he’s going to kill my husband and my six-year-old son.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Thane sensed the quiet long before he stepped through the other end of his portal and out into his garage. As his boots touched down on the cement, the reason for the quiet hit him like a Mac truck and it felt as if Purgatory dropped out from under him to leave him drowning in a vat of fear.
Five women stepped out behind him and looked around at all of the cars. One whistled low. “Damn,” someone remarked.
But when Thane turned to face them, Lily Kane was frowning. She shook her head and caught Thane’s gaze. Their eyes met and held. He knew what she was going to say before she said it. “She’s gone,” she whispered.
Thane couldn’t reply; no oxygen would leave his lungs. None would enter.
But a reply wasn’t necessary. Lily was the seer of the bunch. She knew things. And it was clear from the very feel of the air that Siobhan was nowhere around. She had transported out of the realm. And since she had been completely out of her own magic when he left her, Thane knew that it was his magic she had used to open a portal.
He’d known that marrying her and making her his queen would make such a thing a possibility. But his death in a battle against Marius had also been a possibility, and he’d only wanted to be wed to her, to be her husband and her king before he died. So he’d made a choice.
It had been the wrong one.
“There has to be some way to find out where she went,” Lily said, running her hands over her eyes as she clearly tried to fathom what to do next.
“I know someone who can help,” Thane said. His voice came to his own ears as if through water, garbled and buffered by the buzzing of abject terror. He was no longer in control of his body or his words; they acted of their own accord, going through the motions of the moments on autopilot.
His reaction to Siobhan’s disappearance was having a visceral effect on him. He could taste his fear; it was like metal in his mouth. He could smell it, like blood gone sour. His arms and legs were numb, and his chest felt hollow, as if it were literally devoid of organs, muscle or bone.
“Who?” Lily asked.
One man had been so closely tied in with Siobhan’s dark magic that he’d managed to avoid death and return to her side. He’d been subconsciously feeding off of her for months now, in effect forming an Akyri/warlock bond. He knew the scent and signature of her stardust power as did probably no one else.
“Steven Lazarus,” Thane whispered. Lazarus would be able to track her down. He’d found her without even trying when he’d returned to her as an almost-Anime.
The King in Thanatos went through the steps of strategy without any conscious effort. They would return to the field in the Redwood Forest where the Kings were scheduled to meet. The other eleven remaining sovereigns and the werewolf council Overseer would be informed of the new development. They would locate Steven Lazarus, wherever he had gone off to after their battle with Marius.
And then the former detective would find Siobhan. And with any luck, he would also find Marius.
And Thane could slowly pluck his arms from his god damned wife-stealing body.
*****
She lost control of the magic. She’d barely had a tentative grasp on it to begin with, and she’d been pressing her luck to actually make it to the location she wanted. But that was where her fortune ran dry, and as the last of her slippery grasp on her new husband’s magic was ripped from her hands, she was thrown forward as if she’d taken a running, springing jump off a massive trampoline. The portal came to a thunderous close behind her and she was air-borne, sailing through the dank, fish-odor air of a decrepit pier scheduled for destruction.
The cross beams and graffiti around her went by in a rush and a blur, and Siobhan realized a fractured combination of things at once. She wasn’t alone; there were figures waiting on the sidelines; perhaps half a dozen people. The air was unnaturally cold, even for San Francisco, which she knew could get quite chilly. And worst of all, she was going to hit the ground really hard. She would possibly break something. And because she’d used up all of her magic running from Thane, she would have nothing to stop this from happening.
She closed her eyes and put out her arms, ready to brace herself for the worst of it. But the ground didn’t come, and the wind stopped moving through her hair, and her body felt suspended.
She opened her eyes to find herself moving in slow motion just before she touched down upon the hard, damp cement. Because she’d been slowed down, the impact was nothing like what she’d expected. A gentle bump, a single roll, and she had come to a stop.
For a few seconds, she stared up at the rotting roof of the condemned pier. There were skylights set into the metal and wood, and pieces of the plastic were so thin, clouds could be seen in the sky beyond them. Bird droppings polka dotted the make-shift windows from the other side, darkening them in spots. She smelled fish and sea vegetation, both living and dead. She heard traffic moving along the Embarcadero, heard the water of the bay splashing against the cement of the pier outside, and caught the cry of a lone seagull.
And then the sound of boots on pavement beside her made her turn her head.
A man stood over her. She’d never seen him in person before, but she recognized the general features of his handsome visage. It was roughly similar to the large wavering image he had projected into Thane’s portal in order to threaten her.
This was Marius. The Akyri King.
“I’m pleased to see that an introduction is unnecessary,” said Marius, who smiled down at her in the most charming manner. His blue eyes shimmered with unnatural charisma and intelligence. “It means I’ve made an impression.” He reached down and offered her his hand.
Siobhan looked at the offered hand. Calling up the portal to leave Purgatory had been a use of power that was not hers. She’d borrowed it and she could tell.
Because now she was as exhausted as ever.
She took the offered hand. The Akyri King smiled what looked like a genuinely pleased smile, all white teeth and charm, and easily lifted Siobhan to her feet. Once she was up, he even steadied her with a gentle hand at her back. Then he let her go and cocked his head to one side.
“So tell me,” he said, “was it Thanatos’ idea or yours that you drain yourself of all your magic?”
Siobhan looked from him to the others in the room. Three men, all in black. Siobhan recognized them as Akyri. They had that hungry, barely-fed
look about them. They looked at her as if she were a Smorgasbord. She swallowed hard.
Two other men were with them, but they were mortal. One of the men was very young, a teenager most likely. The other sported gray at his temples, was dressed in khaki pants and a white button-up shirt, and wore a scared-shitless look on his face. He stood behind the teenage boy who was trying very hard not to look scared, but who was bound hand and foot to a wooden chair that was covered in blood. It must not have been his blood; his clothes were relatively clean.
It’s his mother’s blood, she realized. His mother was the one who had been murdered first and sent to Purgatory. This was the family she’d told Siobhan about. There was no sign of the dead woman…. But there was a tarp in one corner of the building. The body could be under it.
Siobhan turned back to face the Akyri King, who yet waited patiently for her reply. No point in not being honest. It wouldn’t gain her anything.
“It was his,” she said. “We had a game of chase. He won.”
The Akyri King threw back his head and laughed. The jovial sound was real and came from somewhere deep inside. He was truly amused. His laughter echoed in the dank, empty space of the pier. The man and his son were utterly motionless, their gazes locked on Siobhan and the man she spoke with. It was plain by the look in their eyes that they were in shock already, but still had enough to lose that fear yet held them in its merciless grip.
The Akyri King –
“Please call me Marius,” said the king, interrupting her train of thought as if he had actually been in her mind.
“I was,” he told her. “In your mind, that is. It’s one of the many things I can do now that I wasn’t able to do before.” He spoke as if they were having a casual conversation, one friend to another. “It’s surprisingly delightful. I can’t imagine why Roman doesn’t do it all the time.” He shook his head. “I know I will be.”
The Phantom King (The Kings) Page 19