Clashing Tempest (Men of Myth Book 3)

by Brandon Witt

  Sonia didn’t respond, at least not that I heard. However, from the corner of my eye, I saw Gwala lift her hand and press his lips to her skin.

  “Would you leave us, my beauty?”

  Sonia’s hair fell forward as she nodded.

  “Are you to be in the sun?”

  As she responded, it struck me again how similar yet completely alien her voice was to the human woman I’d met before. “Yes, my king.”

  Gwala kissed her hand another time. “Go enjoy the gifts I have given you. See the flow of blood in the light of day.”

  As if vanishing, Sonia stepped from the room without so much as a rustle of fabric, leaving me alone with the vampire king.

  I forced my gaze around the room, refusing to look at the king, for fear he would see the hate and revulsion in my eyes. I was afraid I didn’t have the strength to mask my emotions. Latching on, I focused on the pool. I couldn’t tell if the water was so clear that I was able to see the bottom of the pool or if I was merely seeing the reflection of the pink marbled ceiling.

  Wincing, I flinched back when Gwala stroked my cheek with the backs of his fingers.

  “You look awful, my young warlock. I fear had I not arrived when I did, Omar would have taken you from me.” He reached out again, despite my previous response, and pressed at my temple. I could see where his fingers made contact with my skin. I hadn’t realized my face had swollen to the point that I could see huge lumps over my skin. I’d thought my vision was just blurry. I probably looked like I’d gotten stung by a nest full of hornets. Or maybe beaten by a huge gold link chain.

  Doing my best not to recoil as Gwala continued to finger my skin, I searched the surface of the pool. The water was captivating. It looked as if I could only slide beneath it, all my aches and pains would vanish.

  “Why do you avert your eyes from me with such stubbornness, warlock?”

  I wasn’t able to read his tone, if he was curious or if my avoidance made him angry. I found his eyes, careful to not let my gaze move down his body.

  He stepped back, motioning over the length of himself. “Is it my appearance that offends you so?”

  I held his gaze a moment longer, then looked away.

  “Or my form, perchance?”

  This time a hint of offense was in his voice.

  “No, Your Majesty. It is only that…” I brought my gaze to his and refused to let myself look away, no matter how much I wanted to. “I know that appearances are not reality, but you look like a young human male. It feels wrong to be able to see your body.” I hesitated, trying to read his reaction. I could not. “I am sure you are beautiful, and I mean no disrespect. Just the opposite, in fact.”

  His brow furrowed. “I am quite certain your lover is male.”

  “Yes. Schwint is male.”

  Again he motioned toward his body, this time pausing below his waist. “As am I. I would think you would enjoy seeing my form.”

  Anger flashed through me again, at the insinuation. Stupidly, I stepped forward. What was I hoping to do? Punch him? The motion sent bolts of pain shooting from the back of my skull down the length of my body. A cry escaped my throat and I tottered, doing my best to stay upright.

  Unconcerned with my pain, Gwala waited until I’d steadied myself once more. “Would you feel more comfortable if I were clothed in a different manner?”

  Now the anger was at myself. What the fuck did it matter what the damned vampire king was wearing? I wasn’t attracted to him or any other such body. Of all the stupid things to worry about when everything else was dangling over a precipice. “You are fine, Your Majesty. What is it you require from me?” I let out a slow breath. I felt moments away from passing out once more. Despite my weakness, I realized how my words sounded. I figured it would take a lot less disrespect than that to have Gwala take away any mercy he had shown to those I love. I looked into his dark eyes and forced my genuine gratitude to show through as much as I could. “Thank you for saving Schwint’s life and my own.”

  He took a step forward. “You know I have not been a teenage boy in well over five thousand years. If it is morality or protocol you worry over, I assure you, there is no other creature under the sun with which you would be less able to breach such a taboo.”

  Even searching his expression I couldn’t tell if he was baiting me or if he was placing some sexual expectation upon me that I hadn’t been aware he desired. “I was not trying to be offensive to you, Your Majesty. I apologize if I have acted wrongly.”

  How I hated having to grovel at the feet of the monster who’d destroyed my family.

  Gwala stretched out his arm toward me once more but stopped before he touched my face. The silver glinted within the nearly transparent sleeve less than six inches from me.

  “Change it.”

  I waited for him to continue, but he did not. “I’m sorry, Your Majesty?”

  “Change the material to something that would appease your puritanical sensibilities.”

  “There is no need for that, King Gwala. I apologize, truly.”

  “Change it!” His voice echoed around the spherical room, once again causing the world to spin in front of my eyes.

  When I was certain I was neither going to vomit nor fall over, I reached out and took hold of the hem of his sleeve between my thumb and index finger.

  He cocked an eyebrow at me.

  I closed my eyes for a second, then opened them again. The material hadn’t altered in the slightest.

  A flare of panic rose in my chest as I suddenly realized why Gwala wanted me to change the fabric. It had nothing to do with my awkwardness at being in the same room with a nearly naked teenage body and everything to do with testing my ability. I did my best to not consider what might happen to my sisters and Schwint if I failed.

  I closed my eyes once more, whispering an invocation to the elements that I hadn’t needed to use since before I’d been a teen myself.

  Once again I opened my eyes. The fabric might have been a little more substantial, but not much, if any. This shouldn’t have taken any more concentration than breathing. Altering my clothes had been as commonplace as Caitlin varying her hair color. I tried once more.

  “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  The left side of Gwala’s upper lip rose, exposing a long fang. “Have I traded in for a substandard replacement?”

  “Please, Your Majesty, give me time. I need to heal. It is taking all my strength to stand here before you.”

  Gwala whipped his arm away from me so fast I felt the breeze of its path on my tender skin.

  I expected to feel his fist smash against my face but couldn’t find the strength or desire to move away.

  Instead, he tore into the inside of his wrist with his fangs. A nauseating ripping sound accompanied the spray of blood that shot across his clothes and splattered against his skin underneath.

  Before I could comprehend what was happening, he yanked his arm from his lips and shoved his wrist to my mouth, then pressed so hard that my lips were forced wide to accept him between my teeth.

  The spray of blood spewing into me was such an unexpected sensation that it was gushing down my throat before I fully grasped what was happening. At the realization, I began to gag, forcing both blood and bile back up, filling my mouth once more.

  Gwala shoved his wrist in even deeper.

  I gagged again, and this time the blood forced its way up my nose. I felt it run over my cheeks. On reflex I swallowed, again and again, trying to clear the blockage from my passageway in order to breathe.

  After countless swallows, Gwala wrenched his arm out of my mouth. I’d not been aware that my teeth had sunk into him.

  The air rushed into my lungs with such force that I gagged once more. Without his strength to hold me up, I fell to the floor on my hands and knees, dry heaving and gasping for breath. My left hand slipped in the pool of blood, but I managed to catch myself before falling the rest of the way.

  Such luck didn’t last, as fire rus
hed in tidal waves through my veins, both stealing my breath and what little strength I had left. I crashed the rest of the way to the ground, my face cracking as it hit the stone beneath the pool of blood. My gaze focused, blurred out, then refocused on Gwala’s bare foot mere inches from my face. Blood was pooling in the cuticles of his nails.

  Certain death was moments away, I used the rest of my strength to shove off the floor just enough to roll over onto my back. I looked up to find Gwala staring down at me. He smiled, his lips, fangs, and chin awash in his own blood.

  At his smile, I realized the truth was so much worse than I’d feared. So much worse. I wasn’t dying. If only that was the extent of it. I would give anything if I was only dying.

  More fire flooded my body, causing my muscles to cramp and my back to arch.

  I was changing.

  Twenty-One

  FINN DE MORISCO

  Gwala and everything in sight was behind a wash of red. At first crimson, at the height of the agony, then gradually lessening in intensity in direct ratio to the pain. Gradually, by the time the world around me had little more than a pink hue, I could breathe again.

  I was surprised I was still breathing. That I needed to breathe. It had been my understanding that such bodily functions ceased after the transition.

  Transitioned. With the breathing came the return of cognitive thought. With thought came another rush of panic. A vampire. Like Sonia. Like Gwala. Like the redhead that ruined our lives.

  “Change it.”

  I glanced up at Gwala, his figure upside down as he stood over my head.

  He knelt over me and held out his sleeve once more, dangling it over my face, blocking the rest of the room from view. “Change it.”

  Without thinking, I reached up and clasped his sleeve between my fingers.

  My skin had barely made contact before the silver material began to spread over the more sheer fabric. In less than half a minute, Gwala returned to his standing position, his nudity covered behind a solid sheath of silver.

  “Very good.” He inspected himself, glancing over his shoulder at his garment then lifting the folds up for closer inspection. “It seems, even though Omar wasn’t helping you, that you haven’t been wasting your time. That is good. How have you been increasing your skill?”

  Confusion pushed aside my panic for a heartbeat as I looked at his clothes. I’d assumed my power would be lost when I transitioned to a vampire.

  “Warlock!” Gwala’s sharp tone cut through my worries. “Stand up.”

  I followed his order, rolling over to my hands and knees, then pushing myself up to a standing position. None of the pain or dizziness threatened me like it had before.

  “I asked you how your skill has been increased without the aid of Omar.”

  “Oh, sorry, Your Majesty.” I hesitated for a second, worried that bringing up Schwint might not have a positive effect, but then decided that it might actually help. “Schwint has been practicing with me, teaching me what he knows about magic and the power of elements. Fairy magic is different from a witch’s power, but he has taught me quite a bit, nonetheless.”

  He nodded. “Very well. It seems I have been proven correct that it would be beneficial to allow the fairy to stay with you.” He turned from me, stepping toward the pool in the center of the room. “It is time that you begin to take charge of some of your responsibilities. Many I will not give you until your powers increase. Others can handle the burden for you. However, there are certain things I cannot trust to any other than my personal warlock.”

  Pausing, he turned when I didn’t respond, his eyes narrowing as he inspected me. “What seems to be the issue now, Warlock Finn? Have I not provided you with enough sustenance?”

  Any other day, I would have been able to think through my words quicker—judge what the reaction might be. However, there had been too much this day, and I couldn’t function as I should. As it was, I spoke as my thoughts dictated.

  “That’s just it, Your Majesty. I was under the assumption that a witch would lose their power, the gifts over the elements, if transitioned.”

  He threw his head back and laughed, the girlish trill ricocheting off the marble walls. “Transitioned? You believe yourself to have been elevated to vampire?”

  I stared at him gaping stupidly. I looked from him to the blood covering the floor and back once more.

  He laughed again, though any humor that had been there a moment ago had vanished. “I expect you to use your brain just as much as I do your power. A brainless puppet will do me no good.”

  Mentally, I shoved through the information, trying to make some sense of it. It was too much. All of it, too much. Too fast. “I’m not transitioned?”

  He turned from me and began pacing the distance between there and the pool, reminding me of Omar. “As I have told you, you will take my blood. I would not have patience for such a steep learning curve if I were investing a mortal life span. What good would sixty more years do me?”

  As before, the flood of information, questions, and emotions threatened to be my undoing. Sixty more years. Such a fate was unfathomable. Sixty.

  I also attempted to search through my vampiric knowledge. Did there have to be a blood exchange between a vampire and their victim to trigger a transition? Had to be. The realization that I wasn’t becoming a vampire and that there were no such plans allowed my heartbeat to quiet its reverberations.

  Gwala made one more path from the pool and stood in front of me once more. “There will be many times that you will drink from my veins. And while it will not directly increase your power, it will strengthen both your body and mind, which will positively impact your effectiveness.”

  It seemed he expected me to say something, but I wasn’t sure what. I wasn’t about to ask another question. “Yes, sire.”

  His brows knitted, then relaxed. Gwala extended his hand toward the surface of the water, still not taking his eyes off me. “I had planned that Omar would teach you the intricacies of what is required before his passing, but that is not to be. You must learn on your own, and you must learn with expedience.”

  Before his passing?

  “You are to speak of this to no one. I will allow you to share your knowledge with the fairy, especially since he may be of assistance with the speed you are able to acquire the necessary knowledge. Neither you nor he is to speak of it with your sister and the other fairy who have taken up residence outside my forest. Nor are you to discuss it with the other witches in my employment.” Gwala stepped to the edge of the pool and let the silver material slide over his shoulders and drop to the floor, half of it falling into the water.

  “I will return momentarily.” He moved to step into the water, then looked back, pausing. “If my nudity is unpleasurable to you, I suggest having my robe dry at my return.” As if stepping across the floor, he slipped beneath the water.

  I looked behind me at the still-open door and the distant marble staircase beyond, like I could run away, rescue Cynthia, and get the others before Gwala returned from his swim. The ignorant spark of hope that flared only served to leave yet another ache in my chest. I turned, walked toward the pool, and retrieved the silver garment. I peered into the water, expecting to spot Gwala’s slender form easily. He was nowhere to be seen. I could see the entire pool, which seemed a replica of the room I occupied, only a smaller bowl shape. Though I couldn’t tell how deep it was, the bottom was easily visible.

  My fingers brushed against the sodden robe as I continued to look into the depths. Wait and have his clothes dry. Easy enough.

  By the time I stood and folded the material in my arms, it was dry. Even if I was certain I didn’t have enough information to ascertain any answers on my own, I couldn’t keep my mind from rifling through what Gwala had said.

  Like Sonia, he alluded to other witches at the Vampire Cathedral. Hell, alluded, nothing, he’d stated as much like it was a well-known fact. How many others were here, what did they do for him, and where were the
y?

  Selfishly, concern for my fellow witches was quickly replaced by thoughts of those around me. If Gwala really was planning on keeping me for a more extended period of time, what did that mean for Cynthia? Would he feed her his blood as he did me, or was I doomed to watch powerlessly as she aged and died within her golden cage?

  What did it mean for Schwint and me? Would he die as well? Or would he be set free to live out his life without me once I accomplished the level of power Gwala desired? Maybe neither option. It made more sense that, once he’d been used to Gwala’s satisfaction, he wouldn’t be allowed to live.

  I tried to remember how long Omar had been trapped in the Vampire Cathedral. Had he or Gwala told me? I felt like they had, but I couldn’t retrieve the information.

  He’d been married. To Hazel. I’d forgotten about her in the insanity of the day. Hazel, married to the voice. The voice being her husband who could communicate with me all the way from Costa Rica to San Diego. Obviously, he’d been able to do the same with her. No wonder she’d seemed to know so much about me. Omar must have been filling her in on what Gwala wanted with me. The notion chilled me for some reason—at the thought that I’d allowed some suggestion she’d offered to alter my decisions. Had I been manipulated somehow? Like I’d even know if I had.

  Maybe I could just figure out what I didn’t know. I wouldn’t even have to find the answers, just uncover enough to make sense of what was going on. It was like I’d been given five pieces of a thousand-piece puzzle and not allowed to see the cover of the box to know what picture I was trying to form.

  I flinched as Gwala rose back to the surface of the pool. His fingers curled over the rounded edge, and he pulled himself up easily, a long chain clenched in his right fist. Without any acknowledgement, he walked toward the far side of the pool. As he moved, rivulets of water ran over his dark skin, looking like small jewels in the firelight.