Doppelganger Dirge: A Musical Paranormal Reverse Harem Romance (Spellsinger Book 11)

by Amy Sumida

  I lifted a brow at Slate as he scowled.

  And you, songbird, RS focused her attack on me, singing to him and shaking your ass on his stage then getting all offended when he got turned on and grabbed it. You were both my playthings. Bwahahaha! I made you dance to my tune.

  Oh, shut up! Kyanite snapped. You were just as manipulated as they were and by your own magic, no less.

  I am magic, she grumbled.

  Then you manipulated yourself.

  I chuckled. “Kyanite's right, RS; the magic that gives you life compelled you to bring us together. If we were pawns then so were you.”

  We came to the end of the road and kept going. Slate drove us out over packed earth and stone, heading straight to the center of a barren area. We passed lines of stoic, craggy men; Slate's gargoyles guarding the perimeter. Several more of them waited at our destination; a spot without marker but one that none of us would ever forget. Among those at the location were Slate's brothers, Binx and Aaro, and behind them was a massive drilling machine. Not for the stone, the Gargoyles could take care of that. The driller was for the ice that encased Gargo's prison. Last time they drilled through, it had taken eight hours.

  It was going to be a long day.

  “It doesn't matter,” Slate declared as he parked the Jeep. “Fate or magic or luck; call it whatever you want.” He leaned over and slid his hand into my hair to pull my face to his. “As long as I have you, I don't care.”

  I kissed Slate while Gage and Banning got out to give us a moment of privacy. I guess Gage felt as if he owed Slate for ruining his earlier attempt at romance. Slate's fingers clenched and his tongue lashed at mine with a ferocity that had me clawing at his shoulders. My breath was coming roughly when we finally broke apart.

  “I have a bad feeling about this,” Slate whispered into the small space that separated us.

  I stared into his darkening eyes and felt my stomach clench.

  “Whatever happens, we will handle it together,” I declared confidently.

  Slate nodded, pressed his forehead against mine, then released me. We climbed out of the Jeep and marched over to the waiting gargoyles and the god that lay below them.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The Dragon Kings, Triteia, Cerberus, my men, and I stood aside while Slate and the Gargoyles took a position at the edge of the area we needed to dig up. They extended their arms and the ground began to vibrate. Stone cracked and giant shards lifted, trailing dust and dirt. The rocks rose into the air and floated to the side of the drill to land there gently. The Gargoyles began stacking stones, making a mountain that soon blocked the view of the city.

  To my right, the Dragon Kings made impressed sounds and nodded to each other. To a beneather with water magic, moving mountains—or in this case, making mountains—was so far out of their capabilities that it inspired awe. Even King Verin looked impressed.

  “We've hit ice!” Binx declared.

  The rest of us stepped up to the edge of the deep chasm the Gargoyles had created and stared into it. The rounded top of an enormous ice sphere jutted out from solid stone. Cold wafted up, chilling my skin instantly and misting my breath. The Gargoyles had removed enough rock to reveal a section of the sphere over a fifty feet across. None of us were sure of exactly how big Gargo's body was, but we knew it was massive. If it couldn't fit through the opening they made, we'd have to find a way to slice it into smaller pieces inside its prison. Because, frankly, if it were that giant, I doubted that even Dragons could lift it.

  “This will take awhile,” Slate said as Jago ran off to work the drill. “Everyone relax.”

  “What will?” Triteia asked.

  “We have to drill through the ice,” I explained. “Perhaps we should leave Jago to it and get some lunch?”

  “Ice is simply hardened water,” Darc pointed out.

  We turned to stare at Darc as what he said registered.

  Slate made a huffing sound of irritation. “I should have thought of that.” Then he shouted, “Jago! Forget the drill! We've got a water god.”

  “Aw!” Jago grumbled as he shut off the drill, its engine mimicking his whine. “I've been looking forward to this.”

  “You have five water gods and a goddess,” King Zhavage corrected.

  “No offense, Your Majesty, but only one of us is a true God,” Darc said.

  “None taken.” Zhavage nodded. “There is no offense in the truth. But you must admit that we were once worshiped as gods for a reason; our magic is great.”

  “Which is why I'd like your help with this.” Darc waved a hand toward the ice sphere. “We need to remove the top.”

  “Like biting through a Tootsie Pop.” Cerberus crossed his thick arms over his chest and peered down at the ice. “Don't bother licking, it'll take forever and your tongues might get stuck.”

  “Melt it,” Triteia suggested.

  “Well, if it's fire we need, I'm the woman for the job,” I offered.

  “Let us handle this, my fire,” Darc said gently. “There are several of us and only one of you. We will expend less magic.”

  “Fair enough,” I conceded grudgingly.

  Zhavage exchanged a look with the other kings, and they nodded to Darc and Triteia. All of them stretched their hands out over the ice and energy rippled through the air like a heatwave. Except it wasn't hot nor was it freezing; it was wet. Moisture condensed on my skin as the water magic gathered but then it dove and I felt the humidity go with it. Darc, Triteia, and the Dragon Kings focused on the sphere, their eyes glowing with power.

  The clouds of frigid mist, that had been stretching off the sphere like spectral fingers, faded and the humidity rose again. A thunderous sound echoed in the chasm as a crack formed in the ice. More cracks appeared, branching out from the main one, creating an erratic percussion that rang in my ears. A web of lines covered the entire, visible surface and then everything paused as if taking a breath.

  With a rushing sound like a waterfall, the ice melted and water gushed outward to nearly fill the entire hole. Everyone but the Dragon Kings, Triteia, and Darcraxis stepped back to avoid the splash. But even though it rocked and boiled wildly, the water didn't spill over the edge. Instead, it held together in a gelatinous blob that finally settled and went still. I'd forgotten about that; the thick consistency of the water. The ward that imprisoned Gargo had been set into the liquid so I assumed the magic had altered the water somehow. But that was still an odd result. The only theory I could come up with is that it was the result of setting stone magic in water.

  The goddess and water gods dropped their hands and peered down into the clear depths along with the rest of us. There, floating peacefully within the viscous fluid, floated Gargo. His body was larger than I'd imagined—nearly the height of Slate's arena—and its bulging muscles made it seem even larger. Then there were his wings; leathery, ebony, claw-tipped things that looked as if they could crumble a skyscraper with one careless blow. Horns the size of elephants crested a barbaric head and the tips of fangs peeked out from behind cruel lips. A tail tipped in a barb larger than I was tall curled around Gargo's waist and claws curved out as if he were preparing for an attack.

  “So, what the fuck do we do now?” Cerberus asked. “I mean; that's a big dude.”

  “Now, we go for a swim,” King Finshen declared grimly as he shrugged out of his clothing.

  The other men looked away, but Triteia and I appreciated the view of four perfect male bodies. And the carpet matched the drapes if you get my meaning. I lifted a brow at Triteia, and she grinned at me. When I glanced back at the dragons, my stare collided with Verin's; it was hot enough to melt the ice all over again. But then it chilled abruptly, shifting back to frigid blue. His jaw clenched, his chin lifted in defiance (of what I had no clue), and I looked away before he did something I'd have to punch him over.

  The dragons started to shift, and those around them backed up to give them room. Magic gripped the air and lifted the four kings off their feet. Their
bodies began to glow, the light hiding most of their transformations, but an eerie shadow show played out within the glare. Limbs stretched and long hair undulated. Hands widened into claws, tails lashed out, and heads lifted to thrash their horns aggressively. Then the bodies lowered to the ground.

  The light dimmed, revealing four Asian Dragons. I recognized Zhavage's crimson dragon form immediately but beside him stood a gleaming, cerulean beast with sunset whiskers and blood-red fins. White horns crested the Blue Dragon's head; snowy white as pure as the dragon who stood beside him. The White Dragon was utterly that, with only slight shade differences in its whiskers and fins. To his left, the Black Dragon was a perfect yin to the White's yang; completely black with a minute shade difference in his whiskers and fins. Together, the Dragon Kings were magnificent; vivid color and stark neutrality.

  Without a sound, the dragons dove over the edge and into the gelatinous water. I hoped they could breathe that stuff, but if they weren't worried about it then I wouldn't be either. The water closed over them like sludge, and the rest of us stepped forward to follow their slow descent as they clawed their way to Gargo's body.

  “You really think they can lift that thing?” Cerberus asked me dubiously.

  “Each one of them looks to be half Gargo's size,” I noted. “Which means that together, they are twice as large as he is.”

  “Good point,” Cer muttered.

  My bestie hated when anyone was bigger than him.

  Despite my reasoning, we held our breath as the dragons circled the enormous god. They took hold of his arms and wings with their claws and headed to the surface. Again, it was slow progress through the enchanted water, but they made it to the top without incident. It was only when they attempted to remove Gargo that they ran into a problem.

  As soon as the tips of Gargo's wings touched the surface of the water, light bloomed and the liquid hardened back into ice. The dragons released Gargo and separated, each to a different corner of the chasm, racing against the spread of the ice. We all watched in helpless horror as the ice shot across the surface, much faster than the dragons could swim through the sludge, and sealed them in. Everyone gaped at the imprisoned kings, but my magic rose as if it knew I needed it, and I began to sing.

  Yes, I could have simply blasted the ice with Fire, but working with Lucifer and Rath had taught me that I required balance between all of my magic and emotional control to keep things from going nuclear. So, I kept calm and went straight to the chorus of “All Fired Up” by Pat Benatar. Kyanite blasted the music around me, and everyone went still.

  I called forth Fire and Light. My magic combined, shot out of my body, and burst like fireworks above the ice. Just below, the dragons were circling, clawing at the barrier, but they went still when they spotted the churning mass of flames above them. As my Fire lowered, the dragons dove, retreating from the heat. I kept my focus on the song, but I didn't have to sing for long.

  In seconds, the ice melted, a sibilant hissing rising with steam. I stopped my song instantly and the fire winked out. The Dragon Kings swam back to the surface and broke through. Claws appeared, digging into stone to pull enormous, sinuous bodies out of the clinging water. The dragons climbed out of the hole and slid onto land, their scaled sides heaving.

  I ran over to Zhavage. “Are you all right, King Zhavage?”

  “Winded but unharmed,” his voice came out much deeper in this form.

  The other dragons joined us, their whiskers and fins trailing behind them.

  “The water was difficult to breathe; similar to thin air,” the White Dragon announced. “Thank you for your speed in freeing us, Queen Elaria. To drown would have been an ignoble and ironic end.”

  “Of course. I'm glad I could help,” I said, my gaze stumbling over the intense stare of the Blue Dragon.

  Damn, those eyes were stunning in that brutal face; like polished aquamarines in a sword hilt. But they didn't stay that color. They shifted as I watched, warming to something deeper but just as luminescent. I blinked. He blinked. I mentally shook myself and broke our stare. This was getting to be ridiculous. I didn't even like this guy, but I couldn't stop looking at him. Correction; looking wasn't the problem, it was the wanting that came with it. There lay the lunacy.

  Yes, that was it; I was losing my mind. I'd been through too much shit lately and it was affecting me. I just had to tough this out. It would go away eventually.

  “We seem to have encountered a small obstacle,” the Red Dragon noted wryly.

  “Small?” Slate huffed and waved a hand at the water. “That is not small.”

  “It appears that the ward is triggered when Gargo's body tries to move beyond it,” Declan noted. “We need to break the ward before we can break his body.”

  “Gargoyle magic,” I said with a look toward Slate. “That's why I wasn't able to heal the ward on my own last time. I needed your help.”

  “Can the two of you undo what you did?” Triteia asked hopefully.

  “We only fixed a tear in the ward,” Slate explained. “I had no part in casting the original spell. I don't know if I can break it.”

  “Maybe not you alone,” I murmured as I looked around at the other Gargoyles. “A united force made that ward, perhaps it will take one to destroy it.”

  Slate stared at me for a moment then nodded. “There's no harm in trying, I suppose.”

  I saw the fear behind Slate's steely stare. It was looking more and more as if his bad feeling had been accurate.

  I closed the distance between us and took his hand. “We'll do it together.”

  “We will all be with you.” Darc laid his hand on Slate's shoulder supportively.

  “We've got you, Brother,” Gage added.

  “Jago, call our men,” Slate ordered. “Bring them all to the pit.”

  “Yes, Sir!” Jago began barking orders into a comm unit clipped to his shirt.

  My men and I went to stand at the edge of the pool.

  “Are you going to sing again?” King Finshen, the Black Dragon, asked eagerly. “We were unable to enjoy your last song. What with the fire and all.”

  “I am,” I confirmed.

  “This alone would have enticed me onto land.” Zhavage grinned at me and despite his dragon visage, it looked teasing.

  “Any requests?” I teased back.

  “Do you know the song Trøllabundin? A band called Eivør sings it,” Zhavage said immediately.

  I blinked. “I don't know what shocks me more; that you listen to human music or that you listen to it in Faroese.”

  “We are not savages, Your Majesty,” Verin growled. His voice, unlike the other dragons, had remained the same. But then it was likely impossible for it to get any lower. “We appreciate art in all its forms.”

  “Says the man who speaks in a language of grunts,” I shot back.

  Verin glowered at me and made a low, rumbling noise while my men hid their grins.

  “And we have the means to listen to any music the world produces; be they from America or the Faroe Islands,” King Zhavage added brightly, diffusing the tension before his brother attacked me... while grunting, most likely.

  The lyrics will work for our purposes, my love, Kyanite said to me as the English translation for the song bloomed in my mind.

  And I happen to think it's a beautiful song, I agreed. Out loud, I said, “My stone approves of your choice, King Zhavage.” I smiled when he was the one to blink in surprise. “The words will work for our intention.”

  The rumble of engines drew my gaze, and I glanced over my shoulder to see two trucks full of Gargoyles come rolling to a stop nearby. Men piled out and ran over to us.

  “We need your magic,” Slate said to his men. “We're breaking the ward that holds Gargo.”

  “Then we're killing the fucker!” Jago shouted.

  The Gargoyles roared and rushed forward to gather around the pool. As they got into position, I took Slate's hand. My other men lined up behind us, Darc and Gage setting their
hands on Slate's shoulders while Torin and Banning did the same to Darc and Gage. That left Declan, who stepped up beside me and clasped my free hand. Magic trembled through us, rising with our focus. With it, came music.

  The sound tapped its way into the silence left by the Gargoyle roar then became a steady, tribal drumming. I began to chant in a haunting whisper. As my voice strengthened, so did my magic; trembling through my entire body and then out toward Slate. I'd never used a song in another language for spellsinging, but it seemed to be working. I moaned out the lyrics, sending my voice into an eerie undulation as my body began to sway. Around me, I felt the power of my men gather and move into Slate. My Goddess magic gracefully stepped back into a supporting role, giving instead of taking. Magnifying without controlling.