He ignored her shocked expression and paced a bit around her. “I like you, Miss Ashdown. You’re honest and you’ve got one hell of a soul on you. I can feel it, you know. Akyri can always sense the soul of a warlock. We can see them, feel them, and even smell them.” He stopped right in front of her and turned to fully face her, smiling until she could see his fangs. “Yours smells like midnight.”
Siobhan swallowed, and it stuck in her throat, caught on a dry spot. She almost coughed, but managed to close her eyes and turn away from the Akyri King instead.
“I have to hand it to Thanatos,” Marius said. “Using up your magic like that,” he shook his head and made a low whistling sound. “That was wise.” But then he laughed and it was a dark laugh. “But wedding you, now that wasn’t so smart. I can’t blame him of course.” His blue eyes raked over her form, and Siobhan felt as if she weren’t wearing any clothes. A hard chill rushed up her spine. She wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed tight.
The motion seemed to amuse him. Something glinted in the ice of his gaze. “But he must have realized you’d be able to open a portal once you were linked to him.” He shrugged. “Oh well. I’m sure he knows now.” His delighted expression sent more chills scraping along her nerve endings. “His loss.”
“I’m here,” said Siobhan, surprised at how steady her voice was. “So you don’t need the man and his son any more. You can let them go.” She was probably about to die, and after everything that had happened, it was sort of just the icing on the chaos cake her life had become. Yet despite all this, she felt calm. Calm enough to make demands, even.
It’s Thane, her thoughts told her. She was tied to him now. And in that bond came a strength she hadn’t possessed alone.
“How romantic,” Marius said. His tone had gone cold, as had his expression. He eyed her with some unknown mal-intent, and then turned away from her to face the three Akyri and the man and his son waiting on the other side of the pier.
“She’s right,” he told them all, once more speaking casually. Then he addressed the man and the teenage boy directly as he came to stand before them. Siobhan’s gut clenched. “We don’t need you any longer. Thank you for your assistance.”
He looked over at the nearest Akyri. He nodded.
The magic-sucking demon extracted a gun from the inside pocket of his leather jacket. He pointed it at the wide-eyed, silent teenager.
Fingers of ice crackled into place over Siobhan’s heart
And the Akyri pulled the trigger. Twice.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“He’s done something to erase her trail,” said Steven Lazarus, who was standing in the center of the garage in which he’d first appeared to Thane what felt like an eternity ago. The Akyri former detective’s head was bent, his blue eyes shut tight, his expression one of stark concentration. “I can feel her, but it’s like I can feel her everywhere. There’s no focus.”
Thane wanted to break something. Not just because of what Lazarus was telling him, but because he knew exactly what Lazarus meant. He felt the same thing. Marius had covered Siobhan’s tracks, and he’d done so with a level of power he shouldn’t have possessed.
“You have to find her, Lazarus,” Thane told him.
The Akyri opened his eyes and looked up.
“You’re the only one who can.”
Lazarus tore his gaze from Thane’s and ran a stiff hand through his blonde curls.
“Maybe he isn’t strong enough,” suggested Roman.
Thane turned to look at the Vampire King. He stood on one side of the garage – beside the other eleven kings and the werewolf council Overseer. The Overseer wore a small, tight medallion around his neck, given to him by his girlfriend, the coven leader Imani Zareb. Apparently, it allowed him to transport at will.
The twelve of them together against that wall made a powerful sight. A mortal looking upon them would never have been able to erase the image from their mind.
Thane had used up a lot of strength reaching through the dimensional barriers to bring them all here, and it had only been possible because they’d agreed to come. He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to be able to sustain the environment to let them stay, while at the same time slowing time in Purgatory to give them as much leverage as possible. He was feeling more exhausted by the second and was incredibly grateful that he’d chosen to absorb Siobhan’s spent magic.
He had been assuming that Lazarus would find her trail right away. He hadn’t expected the Akyri King to be able to hide the scent this well.
From where he stood, Lazarus also turned to face the Vampire King. Roman D’Angelo looked from him to Thane, and then to Jason Alberich, who stood silently watching a few feet away.
Jason met Roman’s gaze and then nodded. “Perhaps you’ll have better luck if you use this,” Jason said, speaking to Lazarus. He raised both of his hands, and a split second later, what looked like the power of God came shooting out of his palms straight for the former detective’s chest.
Lazarus didn’t have time to dodge or run or even duck. He barely had time to blink before the Warlock King’s magic was slamming into him and then pouring over him like a rogue wave. Thane watched it in grim fascination. The light was bright enough to cause a sunburn, and it was loud enough to ring a small, sharp pain in Thane’s ear drums. It was like a cone of lightning, pure and simple, and undoubtedly would have fried a small army. Jason Alberich was becoming more impressive by the second.
But Lazarus of course was unharmed. Quite the opposite.
From beneath the waterfall of electricity, his face took on a blissful cast. His eyes darkened from blue into indigo then purple and finally red. For the first time since his Akyri identity had been realized, his fangs began to grow. Some Akyri had them, others didn’t. They seemed to be a demonic holdover and purely decoration since Akyri did not use them to pierce flesh.
Regardless of their purpose, the current Akyri King had fangs like a vampire – and so did Steven Lazarus.
The similarity reinforced Thane’s suspicions about the man, but those suspicions were something best pushed aside for the moment and left to fate.
As soon as the barrel of warlock magic began to recede from its “attack” on Lazarus, the former detective turned once more to the empty space in which he’d been trying to open the same portal Siobhan had used. He raised his right hand – and the air split wide open.
Darkness greeted them from within.
“She’s there,” Steven said, his magic-enhanced voice echoing off the garage walls.
Thane didn’t hesitate. He broke into a run and leapt into the portal. He sensed backup coming from behind; the other kings were following him, but he didn’t slow down or wait. He had no plan and no real idea what he was going to do once he came out the other side, and he barely cared. If he could just get to Siobhan, if he could just stand between her and Marius….
It was all he could think about.
*****
Siobhan’s legs had turned to lead and the world was receding. What she was seeing couldn’t be real. Everything that had hammered its way into her world recently, from Steven’s death to Thanatos to Purgatory to the existence of so many supernatural factions you couldn’t count them on two hands, all meant nothing. It was easy to accept, easy to get through. It was fantasy, and so it was smooth, like a sweet wine or a piece of chocolate. It was just there.
But this…. The way the son’s body jerked in the chair when the bullet entered his heart, the way his father bent over him, his voice and breath choked in disbelief, his fingers clutching his son’s shoulders as everything he’d ever held dear in life was ripped from him…. This was impossible.
The second bullet entered the father’s chest and it took a moment for him to fall. It took a moment because he believed it as impossible as she did. It was unreal, not there. It took an eternal moment for him to realize he was dead.
And then he slid to the ground, and into that death he took a piece of Siobha
n with him.
She didn’t notice when the air opened up behind her. Her ears had gone mostly deaf with the sound of the first bullet leaving its chamber. The world was moving in slow motion now. She felt trapped under water, watching through an atmosphere clouded with trauma and hate.
There were flashes of light that entered her world like camera bulbs, illuminating a scene that broke into chaos at a surreal funeral’s pace. The Akyri around the father and son dispersed. The faintest sound of shouting reached her, muffled and fractured. She told her heavy limbs to move forward, instructed them to make their way to the father and son. They ignored her, and she stood immobile as a numbness crept in.
Then they must have decided to listen, because she was moving. She took one step after another until she was kneeling beside the father and pressing her fingers to his throat. There was nothing. A breath later, there was still nothing.
She moved as if in a dream, taking her fingers from his body and pressing them against the boy’s neck next. There was nothing.
And then, quite suddenly, there was something. A single beat, weak – but there.
With that beat, the world returned to Siobhan. Time reverted to its normal, harried pace, the numb heaviness lifted from her body, and sound burst through the cotton haze of her shock to play like a cacophonous symphony in her ear drums.
Blasts were being fired. Magic blasts. Lights of every color of the rainbow flashed against the pier walls, illuminating the spray paint graffiti as if a rave were taking place.
Without looking up, Siobhan called out, “He’s still alive!” It was a plea born of a knowledge that she was surrounded by magical people and that the chances of someone there being able to help were higher than they would have been for anyone else.
“The Healer can save him,” came a deep voice beside her. She looked up to find herself caught in the glowing amber gaze of a massive African American man. He knelt down at her side, and with incredible ease, lifted the boy into his arms. He glanced one last time at Siobhan, nodded, and then a small stone on the end of a leather medallion he wore flashed bright. Siobhan squinted and raised her arm to shield her eyes from the light.
When the light was gone, so were the man and the injured boy he carried. She stared at the empty space. Then she looked at the unmoving black plastic tarp against the corner of the pier wall. Next, she looked down at the dead father.
And then she realized that the pier had grown quiet once more. Everything was still.
But for the sound of motorcycle boots slowly making their way toward her.
Siobhan turned as she slowly stood. Thane was there in front of her, all six and a half feet of him, tall and dark and fresh from the fight. His t-shirt was ripped across his abdomen and left shoulder, and the tattoos on his arms were black as midnight, coiled and complex and angry. Blood soaked fragments of his clothing, causing the material to adhere to the muscle underneath. Siobhan wondered whether he was badly injured, but his silver eyes glowed as white as stars in his handsome face, drawing her attention and holding it fast.
His fingers curled under her chin, the touch soft but replete with unused strength. “Are you okay?” he asked. His voice entered her mind where nothing else could, easing into her system and soothing her soul like spiritual liquor.
She closed her eyes, her memory echoing with the sound of bullets. She nodded, not really meaning it. But what could she do?
“There’s quite a lot you can do, your majesty,” came a deep, familiar voice from behind Thane.
Siobhan blinked. Thane dropped his hand, releasing her chin as she craned her neck to peek around him.
More than two dozen Akyri bodies littered the pier’s blood-soaked ground. Siobhan’s eyes widened, her stomach turning over with the beginnings of nausea. Where had they come from? There hadn’t been so many men there moments ago. Only three. Had Marius called them all in somehow?
She was guessing that was the case.
But that wasn’t the biggest shock. Amongst the dead bodies stood at least a dozen men so dripping with charisma and power, they stole her breath. Tall, every one of them. Beautiful and terrifying and overwhelming. Glowing eyes of all colors and irises of different shapes greeted hers. She swallowed hard.
These are the kings, she thought. They had to be. These were the men Thane had told her about. She looked at them one after another, knowing that she was able to do so only because they allowed her to, and she felt as if she were trapped in some kind of adolescent dream. Men like this? They didn’t exist. Not in the real world.
Just in hers.
Steven Lazarus was among them, and he was standing over the body of Marius – the former Akyri King. Steven looked different to her now. He seemed exponentially stronger. There was something to that, but her mind was too preoccupied for her to figure it out just yet.
It was Roman D’Angelo who had spoken to her. His clothing had also seen a fair amount of damage. Fighting an Akyri was mean business for a being who used magic. That magic was quickly made obsolete. It came down to fist to cuffs. And apparently even in that respect, these men were at the top of the food chain.
“What do you mean?” she asked. It was strange enough for her to accept that he’d been reading her mind, but what made it more odd was that he’d referred to her as ‘your majesty.’
“You’re a warlock, Siobhan,” the Vampire King told her. “Warlocks possess the power to bring people back from the dead. You know that in your heart. And you are now the Phantom Queen,” added with a small smile. “So, the title fits.”
Siobhan digested that, pushing it through her mind like a boulder.
“Siobhan,” said Thane, who cupped her cheek and sent rivulets of comfort down her body. She looked up at him. “You have the ability to bring the dead back,” he told her, clearly knowing exactly what had gone down here. “You are not only a warlock, you are a queen. Your potential is indescribable.”
“He’s right,” said Steven. His voice sounded deeper, more resonant. Definitely more certain. “If anyone can bring them back, it’s you.”
“And you’ll have help,” said another man, this one the blonde, green eyed magic user who had appeared at her house just before Thane had swept her away to Purgatory. She knew who he was. He’d called her ‘one of his own,’ and now she knew why. He was the Warlock King.
He nodded at her in recognition and went on. “For resurrection, two warlocks are always better than one.” Siobhan got the impression of history, and lots of it. “Believe me,” he finished, “I know.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“The mother appeared to me as an Anime and told me that Marius would kill her family next if I didn’t come to him.” Siobhan explained the situation hastily as she made her way to the tarp in the corner of what Thane could now see was an abandoned and most likely condemned pier. The smell of blood hung heavy in the air. Thane followed closely on her heels, as did Jason Alberich.
Once they were beside the body, Thane reached down to pull off the tarp, and Siobhan turned her head, either unwilling or unable to watch. He hurried about the business and tossed the plastic to the side.
The woman had been shot in the chest at least, and not in the brain. Someone filled with true, sick unkindness would have destroyed the woman’s head, as it was more personal. Thane wondered whether the Akyri who were working for Marius were doing so under duress. They hadn’t appeared bound, but Thane was guessing someone like Marius might have other means of causing “duress.” Akyri often fell victim to coercion. Their need for warlock magic was a great weakness, and one that was exploited all too frequently.
But whether she’d been shot in the face or the breast, the woman was dead all the same, and there was something that had occurred to Thane that he couldn’t bring himself to mention to Siobhan. If the dead woman’s spirit had appeared as an Anime in his realm, she probably couldn’t be brought back. Resurrected beings never showed up in Purgatory.
Still, he thought. Siobhan is differen
t.
She was a special warlock to begin with. Her aura buzzed with untapped power. She was also a warlock who had been storing her power for nearly three decades. And she was his queen.
He would let her try. Anything was possible.
Siobhan slowly turned her head and opened her eyes. “That’s her,” she whispered, as if assuring herself that it was the same woman who had appeared to her in Purgatory.
Cold, hard laughter suddenly rolled through the pier. Thane spun, as did Alberich. Across the room, the other kings fanned out, preparing for another battle. Siobhan slowly stood, and Thane wrapped his arm tightly around her shoulders, drawing her against him.
The air grew heavy and thick, as if filled with a fog no one could see.
One by one, the bodies on the ground began to disappear. This wasn’t necessarily a strange thing. Akyri usually vanished once they’d been killed. When there was no longer any magic being pumped through their veins to fuel their physical forms, they ceased to exist.
But this felt different. Thane had the impression that these Akyri were not ceasing to exist – but that they were being taken.
Harvested.
The laughter grew louder, and Siobhan pressed her palms to her ears. The sound was grating and deep and rumbled through the building with a physical presence. It tried to get inside of Thane, tried to wrap around his spine like a python. He had to concentrate to keep it away. His eyes searched the space near the rafters of the pier. The other kings looked warily around as well.
But nothing appeared.
Within a few seconds, the only body remaining was that of Marius, the former Akyri King. He’d been killed by Steven Lazarus – as Thane knew he would be. He also suspected that Lazarus now understood who his father had been.
Steven Lazarus was Marius’ son. It was no real surprise. Marius had been a womanizer, and he’d never been particularly picky about who he slept with. A beautiful mortal woman was as good as a beautiful warlock. Hence, Steven had been conceived.
The Phantom King (The Kings) Page 20