Dawn of a Dark Knight

by Zoe Forward

This whole episode was whacked. Get out of here.

  “You have a special power, Kira. Never let them know of your ability. Call for me, if you find yourself in danger.” He smiled at her confused frown as he rose.

  Before he left, he whispered, “It’s Ashor.”

  Chapter Nine

  Terek broke open the manila packet containing the info on Fulford’s problems. He recognized the woman. She was a famous news correspondent that covered DC politics. The attractive blonde had a face far too perfect to be entirely natural. She was high profile without a doubt. Easy enough to eliminate.

  The second target with his spiky blond hair was…Terek pulled out a magnifying glass. He laughed. He knew that lettering on the side of his neck. No mistaking the language. A magus. This one would be problematic, but then again, the guy wouldn’t form a long-term relationship with Senator Fulford’s daughter. Neither father nor daughter were likely to see him again. This paycheck didn’t have enough zeros to warrant picking a personal fight with a magus.

  He reviewed the reporter’s dossier. Based on his schedule, he had one small window in the next forty-eight hours. He should send a Fedavis.

  No. No delegating. He wanted the kill.

  ****

  Kira opened her eyes, expecting her Baltimore apartment. No white popcorn foamy stuff on the ceiling. No flannel-covered duvet. This definitely wasn’t her apartment.

  A warm, steel-hard body pressed tight to her left side. Her arms were trapped by whoever lay beside her. No memory of last night jumped to the forefront of her mushy mind. Had she just had a one-night stand and blocked it out? Maybe Vance got her drunk enough to end up in bed. No, couldn’t be. She didn’t smell his cologne.

  Her chest knotted as she prepared for an awkward confrontation. With a quick glance, she took in her bed partner. Her mind slammed to an emergency halt. She did a double take.

  Ashor?

  One of his massive arms anchored her to him. She spent the night with him and had no memory? Unfair. Just being pressed against the harsh angles of his body kicked her body into supersensitive hyperdrive.

  Her mind jolted to full awake. Bits of memory surfaced. They reassured and disappointed her that nothing remotely sexual had happened. Her last memory was of connecting to the daemon. Shock likely prevented full recall.

  Don’t push, she instructed herself. The details will resurface.

  Her mind hated not having info and pushed anyway. Her reward was a head pounder like someone shoved a metal spike through her right eye.

  For what seemed like an hour, she stared at the ceiling, waiting for the migraine to dull. When coherent pain-free thought was possible, she realized what she’d revealed of herself in the past twenty-four hours spelled disaster with a capital D. Fear took a front row seat. Now that the magi knew about her, they would undoubtedly want to keep her. Who wouldn’t want an exorcist in residence?

  On the other hand, the Hashishins…they had been at the hospital. They’d figure out who woke their magi targets. That wasn’t hard since the whole place was on candid camera. She intended to avoid becoming a Hashishin acquisition at all costs.

  Time to leave, especially before Ashor came around. And threw the you’re-staying-or-else speech at her.

  With great care, she rolled out of the confining arm. For a few seconds, she held her breath and sat still as stone. He didn’t stir. She dangled her feet over the edge of the bed and glanced at him from the corner of her eyes. She needed a better look. Just one more little glimpse before she left.

  Fuel for future dreams, she rationalized.

  His bared upper body muscles were sculpted sharper than an Olympic swimmer. His energy felt normal with no evil residue. His breathing was regular, that of a deep slumber. A beautifully stylized tattoo spiraled down his shoulder.

  She smoothed a timid hand over his long, black hair that fell unbound just beyond his shoulders.

  Bolstered by his lack of response, she touched his hand and was surprised to discover its size was more that twice her own. A smile touched her lips. As if bewitched, she trailed her fingers lightly over his wrist, tracing an artistic dark blue tat. A low-level energy emitted from his body caressed her and encouraged her to continue. Upon closer inspection, the wrist tat consisted of a woven emblem and lettering she didn’t recognize. It looked Arabic.

  These magi sure do like ink, she thought while tracing the irregular tats that littered a path up his powerfully built forearm. An intricate woven gold band firmly encircled his biceps. The piece radiated an ancient, pleasing energy. Both her hands together couldn’t close around it. Pooling need settled between her thighs as her hand moved toward the exposed magi symbol tattooed on his chest.

  The second she touched the mark, raw lust speared straight to her core. Her body clenched in desperation to have him inside her. The how didn’t matter, only that it happen soon. Never had she experienced such basic need. A powerful compulsion insisted she rest her lips on that triangular tat as if that would be the start button for the sexual marathon her body demanded.

  Spooked, she sprang away. The fire didn’t quell. Everything ached in desperate need for this sleeping, imaginary man made real. Her body had never reacted to any man like this.

  He wasn’t just a man, she reminded herself, but a magus. A sorcerer-like, immortal being that fought daemons. A being whose goal was to enslave her into a life of dealing with weird crap like that daemon exorcism on a regular basis. And being in the line of fire from Hashishins.

  No way was she volunteering for that.

  She gazed at him once more and shivered. He wasn’t just gorgeous. He was deadly and physically intimidating as hell.

  Thank God, he’s asleep. She didn’t have enough experience to deal with anyone like him awake. She also had no wish to get sucked any further into the magi world. Time to get out of here.

  Her watch read a little after ten a.m. Too late to drive back to Baltimore in time to catch her scheduled flight. She’d have to fly. Getting on a plane without ID was going to require she to take out her contacts and try a little enthrallment. Several times in order to get through the airport—ticket, security, boarding. Not her ideal, but it wasn’t like everyone she’d been trying to hide from didn’t already know about her at this point.

  Through half-mast lids and a shitload of drowsy, Ashor watched Kira stagger away from the bed. His body burned with a lust that scorched an unmerciful, savage need. His skin crawled with it and his head pounded.

  Ashor lived with the truth of himself. He knew his strengths, weaknesses, and the kem-seki darkness he fought. And yet, this need shook him.

  He ignored the impulse to get her as naked as he was beneath the sheets. He wanted to bend her over backward and reenact that fantasy she tormented him with three weeks ago.

  First and foremost, though, she wasn’t allowed to leave. Horus had ordered him to bring her here. The akhrian. That meant forcing her to stay was the right thing to do.

  Kira leaned down to swipe her hair band from the floor, giving him a perfect view of her taut hind end and slender calves in that ridiculously conservative black skirt. He swallowed a groan as desire spiked through his already painfully aroused body. She replaced her functional black pumps and turned his way. He slammed his lids closed and faked deep, measured breaths.

  She whispered, “Take care, Ashor. I’m glad I could help, but I can’t stay. Please don’t suck me into all this. I just…can’t.”

  The order that she stay died in his throat.

  ****

  “You let her leave? I mean, what the hell?” Eric tossed at Ashor as he entered his bedroom a few minutes after Kira departed.

  Viktor rested his large body against the doorframe and ran his hand repeatedly over his shaved head.

  “Her choice.” Ashor shrugged, deceptively apathetic. He snagged a water bottle off the nightstand. While taking a generous swig, he tried to contain the savage arousal still whipping through his body. A quick forearm inspection showed three
new, dark blue, stylized sigils inked over the healed Hashishin lacerations. That was the symbol of mystical healing. The kind only the akhrian could do.

  “She’s got the akhrian mark on her wrist, but doesn’t seem aware of it,” Eric said.

  Damn the gods for this shit, thought Ashor, keeping quiet.

  Eric accused, “You knew about the mark, didn’t you? It’s why you asked us to find her.” His face mottled red.

  “I thought I might’ve seen something when she helped me out of the Hashishin compound years ago.” In response to Eric’s instantaneous condemning look he explained, “I was so brain-fried back then that I assumed I’d hallucinated it. She was…well, she was quite young.” Ashor carefully kept his face blank. He glanced to V who had an uncharacteristic stoic expression. Usually, V could be counted on for fireworks.

  Eric said, “Didn’t it cross your mind to mention this at some point over the past decade? When I think of all the times some daemon tore one of us up and we dealt without a healer and she was out there…I can’t even go there.”

  V said, “She seemed in a hurry to leave. You get a chance to discuss being the akhrian?”

  “No.”

  V direct-eyed Ashor. “A woman akhrian? Ever heard of that?”

  “No.” The need for their healer was desperate, and under any other circumstance, he’d be fine with a woman. But not this woman. Not Kira. She was his.

  The red of Eric’s cheeks cranked up. He snapped and rushed Ashor. Gracefully, Ashor dodged the fist headed for his nose and rolled, coming up with Eric in a headlock. The two fell onto the nightstand. The antique, Art Nouveau lamp hit the floor in an eardrum-shattering crash. Eric thrashed and alligator rolled for several seconds, finding no success in breaking Ashor’s hold. Eventually, he stopped.

  “You cool?” Ashor asked.

  Eric gritted out, “Not really. Why the fuck did you keep this a secret?”

  “Honestly? I wasn’t sure she was the one ’til now.”

  The tension left Eric’s body. “Get your naked ass off me.”

  Ashor released. He rose and opened his dresser, selecting a pair of black workout pants to pull on.

  “Tell me about Baltimore.” His tone was a command that suggested a reply was not optional. Arms crossed he leaned against the dresser, waiting.

  “Navid and I were ambushed. Once we took out that daemon, Hashishins were coming at us from everywhere. You wouldn’t believe the snakes funneling into the place. Big fuckers. They tried to take us again at the hospital.” Eric paused. He covered his face with his hands. His voice cracked as he said, “Navid’s dead.”

  “Aw, hell. I know you guys were close. He was a good fighter…a good friend. Goddamn it. Such bad timing.” Now down to seven. That explained some of Eric’s fury—displacement.

  “Such a waste.” Eric threw himself into the overstuffed chair by the bed. His large frame dwarfed the chair.

  “You ended up in a hospital?” Ashor prompted softly.

  “Yeah, we were both beat to shit. We barely got out of the church before we passed out. A good Sammy must’ve called it in. I was pretty out of it at the hospital until she appeared.” Eric cleared his throat and added quietly, “If Dr. Hardy hadn’t showed up, I wouldn’t be here. In fact, I don’t even know how or why she appeared. I’m just glad she did. I mean with Julie pregnant, if I died…we’d lose her and the baby. She told me she couldn’t stay in it just for the baby.” His face reflected stark terror before he hid it. He described events that took place after that.

  “You lose your blades? Yours and his?” Ashor asked.

  “Yeah. Real pisser that. Took me twenty years to get that thing just the way I liked.”

  “Then shouldn’t take long to make another. Accidents like this are why all of us train hard to learn sword-crafting.”

  V said, “We’ve got to find the asshole that’s been summoning over the past few months. We just can’t take any more losses. You like to take out Hashishins, Ashor. Why not put the bastard at the top of your hit list? The daemons are just appearing too fast. There’s not enough time to heal without an akhrian. With our numbers so low, we should get that girl back here and have her fill in until we find the right guy, unless she’s the one.”

  “You’ll leave her alone. She’s done a lot for us in the past twenty-four hours without asking for anything in return. Understand me, V?”

  “Yeah, gotcha, sir.”

  “We’ll do what we’ve always done and send the daemon shits back to their world,” said Ashor.

  V looked grave. “The kem-seki stain has almost completely clouded your eyes now, sir.”

  Ashor sighed. “That was a lot of up close and personal time with that daemon, but I’m not gone yet. When I Turn find Javen. He consented to execute me.”

  V nodded, but glowered.

  An evil sensation shimmered through Ashor’s mind, one he recognized all to well. He held up his hand to command silence. Closing his eyes, he followed the cold, slippery sensation to its source, waiting for the moment he could get a fix on its location.

  “Another daemon?” V asked wearily.

  Ashor nodded. “It’s in North America. Think it’s Egyptian. Maybe in a cathedral.”

  Eric grumbled, “I hate busting up cathedrals. It’d be nice if they chose a modern megachurch for a change. Why they prefer religious arenas is beyond me. Probably some sort of twisted irony.”

  Ashor opened his eyes. “V, you sit this one out. You got your head wacked pretty hard in St. Louis. You can do viper patrol with Eric. Yeah, Eric, after your recent brush with death you’ll stay here. I don’t want to be on the receiving end of another Julie screaming fit. I get a headache just remembering the last time you almost died. I’ll take Ethan and Christian. We’ve got to find this summoning maniac and waste his ass, if for nothing other than to get a holiday.”

  Ashor concentrated on the slippery evil of the daemon. “V, go ask Javen to prepare the plane. Have him phone cathedrals in the New York City area.”

  V pushed off the wall and left.

  Eric took a proffered bottle of water from the fifty-something ex-priest butler-caretaker when he mysteriously appeared in the room.

  “Thanks, Rick.”

  “Need anything right now?” Rick asked Ashor in his brisk New Jersey brogue.

  Ashor shook his head.

  “Breakfast at eight.” Rick rolled his watch. “You should have time before you go.” He departed as quietly as he appeared. Classic Rick. The guy always materialized at exactly the right moment and had an uncanny grip on their goings and comings. He’d been with them and unquestionably loyal for at least two decades after the akhrian revived him from a near-fatal daemon attack. The guy had probably seen more weird crap than he would ever admit. None questioned his job security since the man could make a kickass cup of coffee.

  Eric asked, “Telepathy? You know what that means. She’s the one for you.”

  Ashor ran his hand through his hair to pull its length away from his face.

  “Just because you’re the only one to find your senariai doesn’t make you the authority for all of us, Eric. Perhaps, a connection was made between us when she healed me all those years ago.”

  “She healed me too and I could never do that with her. She’s it. You just need to get laid and all your control issues will disappear. You have any idea how can she be both?”

  “She can’t. Makes no sense given what the ancient text says. I’ve got it on good authority she’s the akhrian. Therefore, she cannot be the one for me. Besides, I’m too near the Turn for her to help me, even if she were my senariai.”

  Eric frowned. “We can’t pull you from active status, because we just voted Javen off. He seemed obviously closer to the edge than you and less in control. And now with Navid gone…We need recruits. That means we need the akhrian to find them for us. And we need to find the amulet. This is a clusterfuck.”

  “It’ll pan out.”

  “Why’d you ask her
to help, if you’re ready to move on to the next life? You could’ve let go. We’d have executed you when the daemon took over.”

  “That’s reassuring. Maybe I wasn’t quite done here.”

  “Right.” Eric fell silent. Quietly he said, “The pull to her is tough to deny, isn’t it? So, how would you feel if you found out your little hottie has a boyfriend?”

  Ashor had Eric locked against the wall by his throat within a second. The kem-seki spiraled, excited by the red haze of fury elicited by the images of Kira giving herself to another.

  “Give me the fucker’s name,” Ashor growled.

  Eric pulled at Ashor’s hand until he released his throat. He emitted an I-told-you-so laugh. “Deny it all you want, man. That girl’s got you by the balls.”

  “Shit,”Ashor mumbled to himself.

  “How’d you find out you could chat with her?” He briefly touched his forehead.

  Ashor shrugged. More to convince himself than Eric he said, “She can’t be my senariai. Doesn’t make sense. A magus cannot be spiritually connected with the akhrian. The gods expressly forbid it, at least I think I remember something like that in the ancient text. It would pose a basic conflict of interest. How would you react if Julie had to touch all of us frequently? And on top of that she had to share her energy with other men? With us?”

  Eric’s brows drew in hard. “Not a good scene. You have no idea what crazy is until you complete the bond with her. With you already having control issues being so close to the Turn…Well, let’s just say that’s a scenario with disaster written in bold lettering.”

  Ashor sighed. “I’ll consult the text to see if it’s got anything about this. I don’t recall anything about a woman as the healer. All I recall is that it specifically said: Protect the akhrian unto death. Intimacy with the akhrian is forbidden. ”

  “That sounds bad. For you, that is. I suppose whoever wrote the text felt it needed to be clear, even though the healer has always been a guy until now. I mean, we all know Navid punted for the other team, and I guess you never can tell with Christian. Seems like he’d screw anything moderately attractive. But I think she should’ve stayed. They’ll find out she helped me at the hospital.”