by Plum Pascal
But the souls aren’t done with me. Even as they pull and yank at Dragan, they latch onto me and do the same. I kick against them, but my energy is waning. I can’t breathe, and I’m starting to get lightheaded.
###
Baron
I watch Dragan jump into the river and almost immediately, he’s submerged, sucked under the current of souls.
“Son of a bitch,” I grumble as I’m forced to make a decision.
Either I go in after the two of them or I don’t.
Do or don’t.
In general, I don’t get involved. I keep to myself. I like it that way.
I trust no one and no one trusts me. It’s how you keep things clean. It’s how you avoid chaos and drama. It’s the only way I’ve survived for the last one hundred years.
Yet, things are different now. Through Dragan and the others, I’ve been able to open a window into a life I know nothing about. Yes, it’s been difficult to trust and believe everything I’ve been told, but there’s something within me that wants to believe it, all the same.
And if I allow the River of Souls to claim both Eilish and Dragan, there’s more to my story that I’ll never know. Dragan’s aware of my history firsthand, and Eilish is something more than even she knows. I can’t explain why, but I feel as if she’s the answer to everything I’ve been searching for.
“Fuck,” I mumble, wading into the tide of spirits.
They immediately break for me, just as I knew they would. As an undead, I have no soul to speak of, so there’s nothing this river wants to take from me. Furthermore, I’m the harbinger of death and shadow animates me. These spirits want nothing to do with death as they’ve spent their eternity trying to escape it, never realizing that death has already won.
The river, from the shore, appears to be perhaps ten feet deep. I walk down the steep embankment of dirt, parting the tide of souls, until I reach the deep valley and see Eilish lying on the dirt. She’s motionless. The river continues traveling above her, as though unaware that she’s caught beneath it. I hope I’m not too late.
Gripping around her waist, I pull her into my arms. She’s been in the river longer than Dragan has, so it follows that she’ll need to be rescued first. Her body is limp, and her head hangs as loosely as her arms and legs do. I carry her up the steep embankment and through the river, which remains parted. When we surface, I deposit her small, lithe body on the dirt bank hoping her soul remains intact.
Turning back to the river, I notice it’s filled in again and I can’t see Dragan. I run back into the souls and they immediately separate to grant me entrance. As I stand on the bottom of the valley of the river, looking up, I see him. He’s caught by the flow of the river, kicking and attempting to free himself from the souls who endeavor to drag him to the bottom, just as they did Eilish.
When he floats past me, I reach out and grip his arm. Then, I pull as hard as I can. While the river separates around my arm, it still has a strong grip on Dragan’s legs. He recognizes me and grasps onto my shoulders as I hold myself in place and allow the river to travel forward. As it does, the souls lose their grip on Dragan’s legs and a few seconds later, he collapses against the dirt of the river floor. He sits up and looks at me.
“Eilish?” he asks.
“She’s on the bank,” I respond, reaching down to help him to his feet.
“I can walk,” he barks.
“I’m sure you can, but as soon as you walk back into that current, the souls will try to wrestle you down again. If I help you, they won’t.”
He nods and allows me to wrap my arm around his shoulders as we walk up the embankment, and the river separates around us. We trudge up the dirt and as soon as we free ourselves, the river closes.
###
Eilish
I don’t know where I am or what’s happened.
I’m standing on the bank of a river, looking out at the tumultuous current. Somehow, and I don’t understand how, the river is circular and feeds into itself. The water is crystalline and ice blue, and I find my feet suddenly sweltering.
I glance down. The bottoms of my feet feel like they’re on fire and the burning is spreading, traveling to the tops of my feet, my ankles, and up my legs.
Beneath me, large crevices slice the ground into geometric designs. Below the broken earth, it glows red—as if the earth is full of lava that’s cracking the ground above it. The heat billows out of the crevices and I hop from one foot to the other to keep them from scorching.
“Resurrect,” a woman’s voice calls out.
I glance in the direction of the voice and see two women. One is sprawled out on the ground, unresponsive. The other woman hovers above her, bent over.
“Resurrect,” the woman says again, staring down at the sleeping woman with deep intensity. Her raven hair extends down her back, disappearing behind her waist. Her skin, devoid of color has the texture of porcelain. She appears cold. She’s dressed in nothing other than shadows and they move around her so quickly, I realize the shadows are delineating her appearance. They shape her, give definition to her long torso and longer legs. She’s thin, but well-proportioned with generous breasts.
“Who are you?” I ask.
She looks up at me with eyes that glow red from an oval face with high cheekbones. Her nose is long and upturned; her face is gaunt but beautiful. Age doesn’t define her—she could be twenty or she could be seventy.
Her expression falls when she sees me. Then, she takes a deep breath and nods. “If now is the time you reveal yourself, so be it.” She faces the prostrate woman before her. “RESURRECT!”
###
Dragan
I run to Eilish and kneel down beside her. I press my fingers to her neck to check for her pulse, but I don’t find one. She feels cold and her skin is whiter than usual, with a gray cast to her lips. I lean over her, hoping to hear evidence of her breathing. There’s nothing.
“Eilish,” I say. A few seconds pass, and I look up at Baron. “She’s not responding.”
A deep, intense worry claims me, and I suddenly feel ill.
Baron looks at her with an expression I can’t characterize. Maybe it’s casual disappointment or maybe it’s deep loss. “Perhaps I was too late,” he says in a small voice.
“Eilish,” I repeat, shaking her. She’s limp and lifeless in my hands.
“If the river has stolen her soul—” Baron starts, but I interrupt him.
“Why didn’t you warn me that could happen?” I’ve crossed this river many times and I’ve never experienced this before.
“I didn’t know it could,” he explains as he continues to stare at Eilish. “I’ve never seen anything like it.” He faces me then. “Cambion and Flumph, both creatures of the light, passed without incident.”
“Why didn’t she?” I face him with narrowed eyes. “And why was it that the river parted for you when it wouldn’t for me?”
“Because I’m death,” he answers with a shrug, as though I should have figured that much out for myself. His response doesn’t make sense to me, but there are more important things I need to worry about.
I face Eilish again and damn my bad luck. “Cambion is the only one who can heal her and he’s on the other side.”
Baron nods and approaches us. His gaze is wholly captured by Eilish as he kneels down beside her.
“You need to go to the other side and bring Cambion back,” I say, but Baron doesn’t respond.
“Shadows surround her,” he says, still staring at Eilish. He seems surprised.
“What are you talking about?”
I look down at her, too, but I don’t see anything other than an angel who’s either dying or already dead.
Don’t let her be dead, I pray to no one in particular. The thought of losing her… I can’t even stomach it.
Baron looks up at me quizzically. “You don’t see the shadows?”
“No.” I clear my throat. “I’ll stay here with her. Get Cambion and bring him back.”<
br />
Ignoring me, Baron shifts his gaze back to Eilish. “Shadows are everywhere. I can see her breathing them in and out.”
Breathing? I frown as I look at her. “She isn’t breathing. Get Cambion!”
Baron narrows his eyes and reaches out, touching her face. As soon as he makes contact with her, her eyes pop open and she inhales so deeply, it sounds like a scream. She looks at me with eyes that glow red and a split second later, black wings pop out of her back and flutter open, topped with a set of shiny, black claws.
###
Eilish
I open my eyes and inhale. Deeply. Immediately, I’m struck with a coughing fit.
Dragan and Baron are above me. And they both look shocked. Neither one can take their eyes off me, but both are clouded with… doubt? There’s something more in Dragan’s expression… suspicion?
“Dragan?” I say, glancing around him noticing the River Of Souls. Then, I remember what happened when I attempted to cross it…
I face forward again, feeling Dragan’s eyes burning into mine. I inhale once again. The air still burns my lungs, making me cough and sputter.
“What are you?” he demands in an icy tone.
I frown. I don’t understand why he’s asking me this. “What am I?”
“She’s succubus,” Baron announces with a clipped nod. I look at him and find his expression less suspicious than Dragan’s. Instead, Baron looks at me with what might be termed amusement—a slight turning up of the corners of his mouth.
“Impossible,” Dragan says with a shake of his head. He appears upset. “Succubae are extinct and have been so for a long time.”
“Just as angels no longer have their wings?” Baron demands.
Dragan looks at me and frowns. “She’s no angel.”
I feel my heart drop. I don’t understand what has happened, why Dragan’s suddenly doubting what I am. He’s seen my wings just as surely as everyone else has.
“We don’t know that,” Baron argues. “She could be both angel and succubus.”
“How can she be both?” Dragan insists.
Baron shrugs. “I don’t know, but if she’s succubus, it makes perfect sense,” he continues, finally facing Dragan with tight lips.
“How does it make perfect sense?” Dragan insists and he appears angry, but there’s something in his eyes that says he doesn’t fully doubt Baron’s words.
“This constant pull, constant need and desire we all feel towards her,” Baron says with a shrug. “The shape of her body. Her face.”
“Angels are equally beautiful,” Dragan argues. I notice he refuses to look at me, now.
“I’m not suggesting she isn’t an angel.”
“I don’t understand,” I start, but both men ignore me.
“Then what are you suggesting?” Dragan nearly yells at Baron.
“That she’s a crossbreed.”
“A crossbreed?” I repeat, shaking my head. “Are you talking about… me?” Of course they are, but somehow I think they can’t be.
Baron looks down at me, finally acknowledging my voice. “Yes.”
“Why?” I insist, frowning.
He offers a consoling smile. “Just now, when you awoke, giant black, hooked wings shot out of your back. And your eyes glowed red.”
I shake my head. “That can’t be true.”
“It’s true,” Dragan confirms. He stands up straight and walks away from us. His posture is too straight, too rigid. I wonder what he’s thinking, why he’s gone ice cold.
“Come,” Baron says and helps me sit up. I feel beyond exhausted.
“A succubus is a demon,” Dragan points out as he walks back toward us.
“Yes, I’m aware,” Baron replies.
“A demon is the antithesis of an angel,” Dragan continues. “They’ve been enemies since the beginning of time.”
“Astute,” Baron responds.
“How could I be both?” I ask him, shaking my head. I’m afraid to look at Dragan, to absorb the expression in his eyes. The disbelief, yes, but more. He looks at me like he’s been beguiled by me, like he doesn’t even know who I am. He looks at me with anger and disappointment. And I can’t stand to see it.
“I don’t know,” Baron answers, facing me with interest.
I glance at Dragan and find him watching me. As soon as our eyes meet, he looks away. “He’s disgusted by me,” I whisper to Baron in a haunted tone.
“He’ll come around,” Baron assures me. Then, he helps me to my feet. I don’t understand why he’s being so kind and careful with me. Usually he’s evasive and keeps to himself.
“We need to cross over,” Dragan says to Baron. “The others will be wondering where we are.”
Baron nods. “I need to touch you both when we cross, or we’ll have a repeat of the last half hour.”
“Fine,” Dragan agrees, holding his arm out. Baron wraps his fingers around Dragan’s wrist, then turns to me. I’m so tired, I have no choice but to lean into him. I wrap my arms around his middle as he encloses me with his free arm, and I lean my head against his chest. Dragan looks at us and swallows hard, but quickly looks away.
“Say nothing of this to the others,” Dragan warns as the three of us step into the River of Souls for the second time.
###
Baron
Once we cross over and I find myself in the Mortal Realm, I pause momentarily to reach into my reticule of poisons and less dangerous tinctures, searching for Nightshade. Finding the red liquid, I uncork the vial, bring it to my mouth, and swallow the contents in one gulp. The taste is earthy, with a touch of fire. There is no aftertaste.
The Nightshade is akin to borrowing the darkness from the Shadow Realm and bringing it into myself. I’ll be able to walk in the daylight and the Mortal and Fae Realms won’t tax me of my power. I’ll retain my strength, such that I enjoy in the shadow plane.
Thoradin, Flumph, and Cambion stand under an outcropping of trees, awaiting our appearance. When they see us, Cambion immediately starts in our direction.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he demands.
“We got held up,” Dragan answers gruffly, glaring at him.
“We need disguises,” Cambion says and studies Eilish, who continues to lean against me, with interest. She’s pale and weak from her experience with the River of Souls.
“What the fuck happened to her?” he asks.
Dragan says nothing, so I figure I’m now carrying the banner of narrator. “Things didn’t exactly go as planned,” I answer.
“Whatever,” Cambion spouts as he then appraises each of us with a bored expression. He’s quite the pompous ass. “We need cover.” No one argues, thus Cambion begins reciting an enchantment of illusion. I hear him repeat the words “Pass Without Trace” numerous times, followed by words and phrases in Elvish that I don’t understand.
“It’s done,” he says, finally, and we begin the second leg of our journey.
~
To be continued in Dragan, the 2nd book in the Sacred Oath Series,
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PURCHASE DRAGAN
OR
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PROLOGUE
Dragan
The scent of juniper berries and brimstone carries on the wind, uncommon in a place where soldiers prepare to die in the battle against the false king.
My gaze lifts to take in the sight of the shadow of a supple figure just beyond my tent walls, illuminated by the flickering torches that line the road. In the firelight, the silhouette reveals swollen breasts, a flat stomach, and a round, high ass.
A woman.
How long has it been since I’ve had one?
Fuck.
Sweat beads on my brow as a throbbing need courses through me.
“Liege, are you expecting a visitor?” Thoradin, my lead Centurion, asks.
I’m not, but there’s no way I will refuse a visitor with such a figure. I can only hope her face lives up to the promise of her body.
Thoradin nods and leads the woman inside.
My breath catches.
She’s not a woman, but a she-demon. A Succubus.
And she’s stunningly beautiful.
She saunters through the opening of the tent, her hips swaying in time with the bounce of her unrestrained breasts. The scent of her grows stronger.
She favors me with a smile, and I feel my heart rate increase.
Cambion reaches for his weapon until I stay his hand with a single glance. His glaring eyes fix on me with unspoken questions. But my attention is riveted on the lovely creature with inky-black hair that cascades past her waist.
She raises her chin in defiance.
“I am Lamia, Queen of the Succubae.” Her voice is colored with an accent that curls around each word like smoke to flame.
Queen, I muse. More like goddess. Never have I looked upon a creature as beautiful as she.
“I thought the Succubae extinct,” I say in response. I don’t offer my name or title, because she’s already aware of both. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have come.
Her pitch-black eyes narrow and her breathing increases. I’ve angered her.
I’m amused with her irritation. I admire the flush it brings to her cheeks, the way her nostrils flare and her eyebrows furrow.
“Nearly extinct,” she corrects me.
Then, as though remembering herself, she inhales, allowing the anger to bleed from her expression. When she faces me again, it’s with the semblance of a smile. I fight to keep my attention on her eyes, but she’s wearing a long and tight black gown made of some iridescent fabric that grips her curves and reveals the tiny pebbles of her alert nipples. Half her milky white breasts are exposed as the cut of the gown plunges dramatically—right down to her navel.