Awakened (2 page)

The threads that held her wrist quivered, and for an instant Neferet thought she heard the mocking ring of laughter rumbling in the distance.

But she had no time to consider the implications of such a sound—whether it was real or just an element of the expanding world of Darkness and power that consumed more and more of what she once knew as reality—because at that instant Kalona’s entrapped body jerked spasmodically and he drew a deep, gasping breath.

Her gaze went instantly to his face, so she witnessed the horror of his eyes opening, even though they were nothing but empty, bloody sockets.

“Kalona! My love!” Neferet was on her knees, bending over him, her hands fluttering around his face.

The Darkness that had been caressing her wrists throbbed with a sudden jolt of power, causing her to flinch before they shot from her body and joined a myriad of sticky tendrils that, web-like, hovered and pulsed against the stone ceiling of the dungeon.

Before Neferet could form a command to call a tendril to her—to order an explanation for such bizarre behavior—a blinding flash of light, so bright and shining that she had to shield her eyes from it, exploded from the ceiling.

The web of Darkness caught it, slicing through the light with inhumane sharpness and entrapping it.

Kalona opened his mouth with a soundless scream.

“What is it? I demand to know what is happening!” Neferet cried.

Your Consort has returned, Tsi Sgili.

Neferet stared as the globe of imprisoned light was wrenched from the air and, with a terrible hissing, Darkness plunged Kalona’s soul through the sockets of his eyes and back into his body.

The winged immortal writhed in pain. His hands lifted to cover his face, and he drew panting, ragged breaths.

“Kalona! My Consort!” As she would have done when she was a young healer, Neferet moved automatically. She pressed her palms over Kalona’s hands, quickly and efficiently centered herself, and said, “Soothe him … remove his pain … make his agony like the red sun setting into the horizon—gone after a momentary slash through the waiting night sky.”

The shudders that wracked Kalona’s body began to lessen almost instantly. The winged immortal drew a deep breath. Though his hands trembled, he clasped Neferet’s tightly, removing them from his face. Then, opened his eyes. They were the deep amber color of whisky, clear and coherent. He was completely himself again.

“You’ve returned to me!” For a moment Neferet was so filled with relief that he was awake and aware that she almost wept. “Your mission is complete.” Neferet brushed away the tentacles that clung stubbornly to Kalona’s body, frowning at them because they seemed so reluctant to withdraw their hold on her lover.

“Take me from the earth.” His voice was gravelly with disuse, but his words were lucid. “To the sky. I need to see the sky.”

“Yes, of course, my love.” Neferet waved at the door and it reopened. “Warrior! My Consort awakens. Help him to the castle rooftop!”

The Son of Erebus who had annoyed her so recently obeyed her command without question, though Neferet noted he looked shocked at Kalona’s sudden reanimation.

Wait until you know the whole of it.
Neferet speared him a superior smirk.
Very soon you and the other Warriors will take orders only from me—or you will perish.
The thought pleased her as she followed the two men out of the bowels of the ancient fortress of Capri, up and up until finally they emerged from the long length of stone steps onto the rooftop.

It was past midnight. The moon hung toward the horizon, yellow and heavy though not yet full.

“Help him to the bench and then leave us,” Neferet ordered, gesturing to the ornately carved marble bench that rested near the edge of the castle’s rooftop, affording a truly magnificent view of the glistening Mediterranean. But Neferet had no interest in the beauty that surrounded her. She waved away the Warrior, dismissing him from her mind even though she knew he would be notifying the High Council that her Consort’s soul had returned to his body.

That didn’t matter now. That could be dealt with later.

Only two things mattered now: Kalona had returned to her, and Zoey Redbird was dead.

“Speak to me. Tell me everything slowly and clearly. I want to savor each word.” Neferet went to Kalona, kneeling before him, stroking the soft, dark wings that unfurled loosely around the immortal as he sat on the bench, face raised to the night sky, bronzed body bathed in the golden glow of the moon. She tried to keep herself from trembling in anticipation of his touch—of the return of his cold passion, his frozen heat.

“What would you have me say?” He didn’t meet her eyes. Instead he opened his face to the sky, as if he could drink in the heavens above them.

His question took her aback. Her lust abated and her hand ceased stroking his wing.

“I would have you give me the details of our victory so that I might savor the retelling of it with you.” She spoke slowly, thinking that perhaps his brain might still be slightly addled from the recent displacement of his soul.

“
Our
victory?” he said.

Neferet’s green eyes narrowed. “Indeed. You are my Consort. Your victory is mine, as mine is yours.”

“Your kindness is almost divine. Have you become a goddess during my absence?”

Neferet studied him closely. He still wasn’t looking at her; his voice was almost expressionless. Was he being impudent? She shrugged off his question, though she continued to watch him closely. “What happened in the Otherworld? How did Zoey die?”

She knew what he would say the instant his amber eyes finally found hers, though childishly she covered her ears and began to shake her head back and forth, back and forth as he spoke the words that were like a sword stroke to her soul.

“Zoey Redbird is not dead.”

Neferet stood and forced her hands from her ears. She stalked several paces from Kalona, staring unseeingly out at the liquid sapphire of the night sea. She breathed slowly, carefully, attempting to control her seething emotions. When finally she knew she could do so without shrieking in anger to the sky, she spoke.

“Why? Why did you not complete your quest?”

“It was your quest, Neferet. Never mine. You forced me to return to a realm from which I’d been banished. What happened was predictable: Zoey’s friends rallied about her. With their aid she healed her shattered soul and found herself again.”

“Why did you not stop it from happening?” Her voice was frigid. She didn’t so much as glance at him.

“Nyx.”

Neferet heard the name leave his lips as if he’d spoken a prayer—soft, low, reverent. Jealousy speared her.

“What of the goddess?” She almost spat the question.

“She intervened.”

“She did what?” Neferet whirled around. Disbelief tinged with fear made her words breathless, incredulous. “Do you expect me to believe that Nyx actually interfered with mortal choice?”

“No,” Kalona said, sounding weary again. “She didn’t interfere; she intervened, and only after Zoey had already healed herself. Nyx blessed her for it. That blessing was part of her and her Warrior’s salvation.”

“Zoey lives.” Neferet’s voice was flat, cold, lifeless.

“She does.”

“Then you owe me the subservience of your immortal soul.” She started to walk away from him, toward the rooftop exit.

“Where are you going? What will happen next?”

Disgusted by what she perceived as weakness in his voice, Neferet turned to him. She drew herself up tall and proud, and held out her arms so that the sticky threads that pulsed around her could brush her skin freely, caressingly.

“What will happen next? It is quite simple. I will ensure Zoey is drawn back to Oklahoma. There, on my own terms, I will complete the task you failed.”

To her retreating back the immortal asked, “And what of me?”

Neferet paused and glanced over her shoulder. “You will return to Tulsa, too, only separately. I have need of you, but you cannot be with me publically. Do you not remember, my love, that you are a killer now? Heath Luck’s death was your doing.”

“
Our
doing,” he said.

She smiled silkily. “Not according to the High Council.” She met his eyes. “This is what is going to happen. I need you to regain your strength quickly. By dusk tomorrow I will have to report to the High Council that your soul has returned to your body, and that you confessed to me you killed the human boy because you thought his hatred for me a threat. I will tell them because you believed you were protecting me, I was merciful in your punishment. I only had you flogged one hundred strokes and then banished you from my side for one century.”

Kalona struggled to sit. Neferet was pleased to see anger flash in his amber eyes.

“You expect to be bereft of my touch for a century?”

“Of course not. I will graciously allow you to return to my side after your wounds have healed. Until then I will still have your touch; it will simply be away from the prying eyes of the public.”

His brow lifted. She thought how arrogant he looked, even weakened and defeated.

“How long do you expect me to skulk in the shadows, pretending to heal from nonexistent wounds?”

“I expect you to be absent from my side until your wounds
do
heal.” With a quick, precise movement, Neferet brought her wrist to her lips and bit deeply, instantly drawing a circle of blood. Then she began to make a swirling motion with her uplifted arm, sifting through the air while sticky threads of Darkness slithered greedily around her wrist, attaching to the blood like leeches. She ground her teeth together, forcing herself to remain unflinching, even when the sharpness of the tentacles stabbed her over and over. When they seemed bloated enough, Neferet spoke softly, lovingly to them. “You’ve taken your payment. Now you must do my bidding.” She looked from the throbbing strands of Darkness to her immortal lover. “Lash him deeply. One hundred times.” Neferet hurled Darkness at Kalona.

The weakened immortal only had time to unfurl his wings and begin to vault for the edge of the castle’s roof. The razor threads caught him midstride. They wrapped around his wings at the sensitive base where they met his spine. Instead of leaping from the rooftop he was trapped, pinned against the ancient stone of the balustrade while Darkness began to slowly, methodically, slice furrows into his naked back.

Neferet watched only until his proud, handsome head sagged in defeat and his body jerked convulsively with every cutting stroke.

“Do not mar him permanently. I plan to enjoy the beauty of his skin again,” she said before turning her back on Kalona and walking purposefully from the blood-soaked rooftop.

“It seems I must do everything myself, and there is so much to do … so much to do…,” she whispered to the Darkness that flitted about her ankles.

From the shadows within shadows Neferet thought she caught the outline of a massive bull watching her with approval and pleasure.

Neferet smiled.

For the zillionth time I thought about what an amazing place Sgiach’s throne room was. She was an ancient vampyre queen, the Great Taker of Heads, uber-powerful and surrounded by her own personal Warriors known as Guardians. Hell, way back in the day she’d even taken on the Vampyre High Council and won, but her castle wasn’t a nasty-outdoor-plumbing-medieval-version-of-camping (gross). Sgiach’s castle was a fortress, but it was—as they say over here in Scotland—a posh castle. I swear the view from any of the sea-facing windows, but especially her throne room, is so incredible that it looks like it should be on HD TV and not in front of me, in real life.

“It’s beautiful here.” Okay, talking to myself—especially so soon after being, well, kinda sorta
crazy
in the Otherworld—might possibly be a not-so-good idea. I sighed and shrugged. “Whatever. With Nala not here, Stark mostly out of it, Aphrodite doing stuff I’d rather not imagine with Darius, and Sgiach off doing something magickal or kicking ass in superhero-like training with Seoras, talking to myself seems like the only option.”

“I was simply checking my email—nothing magickal or ass-kicking about that.”

I suppose she should have made me jump. I mean, the queen seemed to materialize from the air beside me, but I guess being all shattered and crazy in the Otherworld had given me a pretty high spookiness tolerance. Plus, I felt a weird bond with this vampyre queen. Yeah, she was awe-inspiring and had mad powers and all, but in the weeks since Stark and I had come back, she had been a fixture by my side. While Aphrodite and Darius played gross kissy-face and walked hand in hand on the beach, and while Stark slept and slept and slept, Sgiach and I had spent time together. Sometimes talking—sometimes not. She was, I’d decided days ago, the coolest woman, vamp or not, I’d ever met.

“You’re kidding, right? You’re an ancient warrior queen who lives in a castle on an island no one can get to without you letting them,
and you’re checking your email
? Sounds like magick to me.”

Sgiach laughed. “Science often feels more mysterious than magick, or at least I have always thought so. Which reminds me—I have been considering how odd it is that daylight affects your Guardian with such debilitating severity.”

“It’s not just Stark. I mean, it’s been worse with him recently ’cause, well, ’cause he’s hurt.” I paused, tripping over the words and not wanting to admit how hard it was to see my Warrior and Guardian so obviously messed up. “This really isn’t normal for him. He can usually stay conscious during the day, even if he can’t stand direct sunlight. All the red vampyres and fledglings are the same about it. Sun does them in.”

“Well, young queen, it could be a distinct disadvantage that your Guardian is unable to protect you during the daylight hours.”

I gave a shoulder shrug, even though her words sent a shiver of what might be premonition down my spine. “Yeah, well, recently I’ve learned to take care of myself. I think I can handle a few hours a day on my own,” I said with a sharpness that surprised even me.