Burned

by P. C. Cast

  Kalona shook his head. “I wish this could have ended differently. Had you listened to me, accepted me, it would have,” he said.

  “Glad to hear you agree with me, ’cause this is going to end differently,” I said. Before I started toward him I picked up Stark’s sword. It was heavier than I thought it was going to be, but it was still warm from Stark’s hand, and that warmth helped me find the strength to lift it.

  Kalona’s smile was almost kind. “I won’t fight you. That is my gift to you.” He unfurled his great wings. “Goodbye, Zoey. I will miss you and think of you often.”

  “Air, don’t let him leave.” I flung the element at him. His fully spread wings were easily caught, and a mighty gust of wind pinned them against the wall of the arena, eerily mirroring Stark’s final pose.

  I walked up to him and, with no hesitation, drove the claymore through his chest.

  “That’s for Stark. I know this won’t kill you, but it sure as hell feels good to do it,” I said. “And I know he’ll appreciate it.”

  Kalona’s eyes glinted dangerously. “You cannot hold me here forever. And when you finally release me, I will make you pay for this.”

  “Okay, see, just like Stark said—you’re wrong. Again. There are different rules in the Otherworld, so I probably could keep you here forever, if I wanted to stay and turn into Crazy Vengeance Girl, but here’s the deal: I already almost turned into one kind of crazy girl. I’m not so much interested in doing that again. Plus, I want to go home. So, here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna pay me the life debt you owe me for killing my consort, Heath Luck, by bringing Stark back to me. Then Stark and me, we’re going home. Oh, and by the way, I don’t care where you’ll be going.”

  “You’ve gone mad. I cannot bring the dead back to life.”

  “In this case, I think you can. Stark’s body is safe back in the real world, along with mine. We’re in the Otherworld, and it’s all about spirit here. You’re an immortal, which means you’re all about spirit. So you’re gonna take some of your immortal spirit and share it with my Guardian. And bring him back to me. Now. Because you owe it to me. Do you get it? I claim the debt, and it’s time you paid up.”

  “You don’t have the power to make me,” Kalona said.

  She does not, but I do.

  The disembodied words settled down into the arena. I recognized the sound of Nyx’s voice immediately and looked around expectantly, trying to see her. It was Kalona who found her, though. He was staring over my shoulder with an expression that utterly changed his face. It took me a second to recognize it. He’d looked at me with lust, with possessiveness, and even with what he’d called love. But he’d been wrong. He didn’t love me. Kalona loved Nyx.

  I followed his gaze and turned to see the Goddess standing beside Stark’s body. One of her hands rested tenderly on his head.

  “Nyx!” the immortal’s voice sounded broken and surprisingly young. “My Goddess!”

  Nyx’s eyes lifted from Stark’s body, but she didn’t look at Kalona. The Goddess looked at me. She smiled, and everything within me was suffused in joy.

  “Merry meet, Zoey.”

  I grinned, and bowed my head. “Merry meet, Nyx.”

  “You’ve done well, daughter. You’ve made me proud of you again.”

  “It took me too long,” I said. “I’m sorry about that.”

  Her gaze was unwaveringly kind. “As always with you, as with many of my strongest daughters, it is yourselves you should be forgiving. There is no need to ask it of me.”

  “And what of me?” Kalona rasped. “Will you ever forgive me?”

  The Goddess looked at him. Her eyes were sad, but the set of her mouth was grim, her words clipped and emotionless. “If you are ever worthy of forgiving, you may ask it of me. Not until then.” Nyx lifted her hand from Stark’s head and flicked her fingers at Kalona. The claymore disappeared from his chest. Wind abated, and he dropped from the wall of the arena. “You will pay my daughter the debt you owe her, and then you will return to the world and the consequences awaiting you there, knowing this, my fallen Warrior, your spirit, as well as your body, is forbidden entrance to my realm.” Without another glance at Kalona, Nyx turned her back to him. She bent to kiss Stark’s bloody lips gently, and then the air around her rippled, glistened, and she faded away.

  When Kalona got to his feet I backed away from him fast, lifting my hands and getting ready to throw air at him again. Then his eyes met mine, and I saw that he was weeping silently.

  “I will do as she commands. Except for one time, one single time, I always did as she commanded,” he said.

  I followed him as he walked to Stark’s body. “I return to you that last sweet breath of life. With it live again, and accept a small piece of my immortality for the human life I have taken.” Then, totally shocking me, Kalona bent and, mimicking Nyx, he kissed Stark.

  Stark’s body jerked. He gasped and inhaled a long breath.

  Before I could stop him, Kalona put one hand on Stark’s shoulder, and with the other he wrenched the spear from his body. With an agonized cry, Stark collapsed.

  “You jerk!” I ran to Stark and cradled his head on my lap. He was breathing hard, in panting gasps, but he was breathing. I looked up at Kalona. “No wonder she won’t forgive you. You’re cruel and heartless and just plain wrong.”

  “When you get back to the world, stay away from me. You’ll be out of her realm then, and Nyx won’t come running to save you,” he said.

  “The farther I am from you, the better.”

  Kalona stretched open his wings, but before he could take to the sky, tendrils of Darkness, sticky and sharp, oozed from the black sides of the arena and the pitch-colored dirt beneath his feet. While he stared at me, they wrapped around his body, slicing his flesh. Segment by segment they cut him, covered him, until he was nothing but writhing darkness, blood, and amber eyes. Then the tendrils reached his eyes, plunging into them. I cried out in horror as they ripped something that was so bright and shining from inside him that I had to close my eyes against its brilliance. When I opened them again Kalona’s body had disappeared along with the arena, and Stark and I were inside the grove.

  Chapter 30

  Zoey

  “Zoey! What is it? What’s happened?” Stark struggled, trying to make his broken body work.

  “Ssh, it’s okay. Everything’s okay. Kalona’s gone. We’re safe.”

  His gaze found mine, and all the tension went out of him. He slumped in my arms and let me cradle his head in my lap. “It’s you again. You’re not shattered anymore.”

  “It’s me again.” I touched his cheek in one of the few places on his face that wasn’t bloody, broken, or bruised. “This time you’re the one who looks shattered.”

  “No, Z. As long as you’re whole, I’ll be fine.” He coughed then. Blood poured from the gaping wound in his chest. His eyes closed, and his face contorted in agony.

  Oh, Goddess! He’s hurt so badly! I tried to speak calmly. “Okay, good, but you don’t really look fine. So how about you and me get back to our bodies. They are both waiting for us, right?”

  Another shudder of pain went through him. He was breathing in shallow, panting breaths, but he opened his eyes to meet mine. “You should go back. I’ll follow you after I rest a little while.”

  Panic fluttered around inside me. “Oh, no. I’m so not leaving you here. Just tell me what you need to get back.”

  He blinked a few times and then his broken lips curled in a hint of his cocky smile. “I don’t exactly know how to get back.”

  “You don’t what? Stark, seriously.”

  “Seriously. I don’t really have a clue.”

  “How’d you get here?”

  His lips curled again. “Through pain.”

  I snorted. “Well, then getting you back should be easy ’cause you have some pain going on here.”

  “Yeah, but back there I have an ancient Guardian in charge of keeping me on the line between
life and death. I don’t exactly know how to tell him it’s time for me to wake up. How are you getting back?”

  I didn’t even need to think about it. The answer was as natural as breathing. “I’m going to follow spirit to my body. It’s where I belong, back there, in the real world.”

  “Do that.” He had to pause as another wave of pain engulfed him. “And after I rest, I’ll do the same thing.”

  “No, you don’t have an affinity for spirit like I do. It won’t work for you.”

  “It’s good that you still have your elements. I wondered about that, what with your tattoos being gone.”

  “Gone?” I turned my hand over and, sure enough, there were no tattoos filling my palms with sapphire filigree. Then I glanced down at my chest. The long pink scar was there, but it, too, was tattoo free. “Are they all gone? Even the ones on my face?”

  “All that’s left is the crescent,” he said. Then he grimaced in pain again. Clearly beyond his exhaustion level, he closed his eyes, and said, “Go ahead and follow spirit home. I’ll figure something out. When I’m not so tired. Don’t worry. I won’t leave you—not really.”

  “Oh, hell no. I’m not losing another boy with some kind of abstract I’ll-see-you-again Zoey thing. That’s not working for me ever, ever again.”

  He opened his eyes. “Then tell me what to do, my queen. And I’ll do it.”

  I ignored the “my queen” stuff. I mean, I’d heard him call me that earlier, and then again to Kalona. I wondered briefly if that had been before or after the immortal had started smacking him in the head, then I focused on the “I’ll do it” part of what he’d said. So, he’d do what I told him . . . but what the heck did I need to tell him to do?

  I looked down at him. He was so messed up—even worse than he had been when he’d taken the arrow meant to kill me and burned the crap out of his chest, almost dying. Again.

  But then he’d gotten better pretty much on his own. He’d had to. I’d been messed up, too.

  I drew a deep breath, remembering the whole Mother Hen lecture Darius had given me when I’d wanted Stark to feed from me so he could heal quicker. He’d explained that between a Warrior and his High Priestess, the bond was so strong that Warriors could sometimes sense emotions from their High Priestesses. I glanced down at Stark’s bruised face. He’d definitely been able to do that. When that happened, they could also absorb more from their High Priestesses than their blood—they could absorb energy.

  Which was exactly what Stark needed—energy to heal—energy to return to his body.

  This time he wouldn’t get better on his own and, thank the Goddess, I wasn’t messed up anymore.

  “Hey,” I said. “I know what I want you to do.”

  His eyes fluttered open, and I hated the pain that I saw reflected within them. “Tell me. If I can do it, I will.”

  I smiled at him. “I want you to bite me.”

  He looked surprised and then, even though it obviously hurt him, his cocky smile was back. “Now you ask me? When my body’s totally messed up. Great.”

  “Don’t be such a guy,” I told him. “It’s because you’re body’s totally messed up that I’m asking you.

  “I’d make you think differently if I was well.”

  I shook my head at him and rolled my eyes. “If you were well, I’d smack you right now.” And then, moving carefully, trying to be as gentle as I could, I slid him off my lap. He tried to stifle a groan. “Sorry! I’m so sorry I’m hurting you.” I lay down beside him and started to pull him into my arms, wanting to hold him close to me as if I could absorb his pain.

  “It’s okay,” he gasped. “Just help me onto my good side.”

  Good side? I wasn’t sure whether I should laugh or burst into tears, but I helped him turn on his side, the one that didn’t have the shattered shoulder, so that we could face each other. Tentatively, I moved closer to him, thinking that I should maybe slice down my arm so he could drink from me more easily without moving too much.

  “No.” His hand twitched, trying to reach out to me. “Not like that. Come closer to me, Z. The pain doesn’t matter.” He paused, then added, “Unless you can’t because of my blood. Does this make you need it?”

  “The blood?” I realized what he was saying and blinked in surprise. “I haven’t even noticed it.” Seeing his wry expression, I went on, “I mean I noticed that you’re bleeding all over. I didn’t smell it.” Wonderingly, I touched the blood on his lip with my fingertip. “It doesn’t make my bloodlust happen.”

  “We’re spirit here, that must be why,” he said.

  “Then will this work? You feeding from me?”

  His eyes met mine. “It’ll work, Z. Between us there’s more than physical stuff. We’re bound by spirit.”

  “Okay, good. I hope so,” I said, feeling suddenly nervous. The only other guy I’d let feed from me had been Heath—my Heath. My mind skittered away from thoughts of him and comparisons with Stark, but I couldn’t deny one aspect of what was about to happen. Letting a guy drink my blood was sexual. It felt good. Really good. That was how we’d been made. It was normal, natural, and right.

  It was also making my stomach hurt.

  “Hey, just relax and bring your neck over here.”

  My wide eyes took in Stark’s battered face and his broken body.

  “Yeah, I know you’re nervous, but as messed up as I am, you don’t need to be.” His expression changed. “Or is it more than being nervous? Are you changing your mind about wanting to?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “I’m not changing my mind. I won’t change my mind about you, Stark. Ever.”

  Trying to be as careful as I could, I moved closer to him. Scooting up so that the curve of my neck was near his mouth, I swept back my hair and leaned over him, holding myself tense, ready for his bite.

  But he surprised me. Instead of his teeth I felt the warmth of his lips as he kissed my neck gently. “Relax, my queen.”

  His breath made shivers go down my skin. I trembled. How long had it been since anyone had really touched me? It must only be days back in the real world, but here, in the Otherworld, it felt like I’d been untouched and untouchable for centuries.

  Stark kissed me again. His tongue touched my neck and he moaned. This time I didn’t think it was from pain. He didn’t hesitate any longer. His teeth nicked my neck. It stung, but as soon as his lips closed on the small cut, pain was replaced by pleasure so intense that it was my turn to moan.

  I wanted to wrap my arms around him and lock my body with his, but I held myself very still, trying my best not to cause him any more pain.

  Too soon his mouth left my skin. His voice already sounded stronger when he said, “Do you know when I first knew I belonged to you?” His breath whispered warm against my neck, making me shiver again.

  “When?” I sounded breathless.

  “It was when you faced me down in the infirmary back at the House of Night, before I’d Changed. Do you remember?”

  “I remember.” Of course I remembered—I’d been naked and threatened to kick his butt with the elements as I stood between him and Darius.

  I could feel his lips tilt up against my skin. “You looked like a Warrior queen, filled with the Goddess’s anger. I think that was when I knew I would always belong to you, because you reached me even through all that darkness.”

  “Stark.” I whispered his name, utterly overwhelmed by what I was feeling for him. “This time you reached me. Thank you. Thank you for coming after me.”

  With a wordless sound, his mouth was on my neck again, and this time he bit harder, and really drank from me.

  Again, pleasure quickly replaced the sting of pain. I closed my eyes and concentrated on the exquisite heat that was rushing through my body. I couldn’t stop myself from touching him, and slid one hand around his waist so that I could feel the tight muscles just underneath the skin of his back. I wanted more of him. I wanted him closer to me.

  He took his lips from my neck,
and he actually held himself up. His eyes were dark with passion, and he was breathing hard. “Now, Zoey, will you give me more than just your blood? Will you accept me as your Guardian?”

  I stared at him. In his eyes there was something that I’d never seen within him before. The boy who had walked away from me in Venice, jealous and pissed, was gone. The man who had grown in his place was more than a vampyre, more than a Warrior. Even as he lay there broken in my arms, I could feel the strength in him: solid, dependable, honorable.

  “Guardian?” I said wonderingly, touching his face. “So that’s what you’ve Changed into?”

  His gaze never left mine. “Yes, if you accept me. Without his queen’s acceptance a Guardian isn’t anything.”

  “But I’m not really a queen.”

  His torn lips didn’t stop Stark’s cocky smile. “You’re my queen, and anyone who says different can fuck off.”

  I smiled at him. “I already accepted your Oath as my Warrior.”

  Stark’s cockiness was instantly gone. “This is different, Zoey. It’s more. It might change things between us.”

  I touched his face again. I didn’t really understand what he was asking, but I knew that he needed something more from me, and I knew that whatever I said and did now would affect us for the rest of our lives. Goddess, give me the right words, I prayed silently.

  “James Stark, from here on out I accept you as my Guardian, and I also accept all that goes with it.”

  He turned his head and kissed my palm. “Then I will serve you with my honor and my life, forever Zoey. My Ace, mo bann ri, my queen.”

  His oath rippled through me like a physical thing. Stark was right. It was different than what had happened between us when he’d sworn his Oath to me as a Warrior. This time it was as if he’d given me a piece of himself, and I knew that without me, he could never truly be whole again. The responsibility of it scared me almost as much as it strengthened me, and I pulled his mouth down to my neck again.

  “Take more from me, Stark. Let me heal you.”