Blood of the Sorceress (8 page)

“Ahh.” The old man’s eyes lit with a hungry gleam as he leaned forward and touched the chalice. “Yes, it’s just as I remember.”

“Remember?”

Father Dom looked up quickly. “I’ve seen its likeness in an ancient diary. Do you know how to use it?”

“Fill with liquid and drink?” Demetrius asked, using the sarcasm he’d learned by observing others. It was one of his favorite quirks of the language. The priest stared blankly at him. Clearly the joke had gone right “over his head,” as Gus would have put it. It reminded Demetrius sharply of the way he used to react to modern humor. Never understanding it. Because he was out of his time.

“Fill with liquid, yes. Any liquid.” As he spoke, the priest reached for the chalice.

Demetrius snatched it away before Father Dom could touch it. For some reason he just couldn’t let this man put his hands on an object that was...sacred to him.

The priest stared at him, surprised, and perhaps a little offended. Demetrius shrugged. “I don’t like people touching it.”

“All right, then. All right. Pour some liquid in. Some water from your glass will do.”

Demetrius poured the water into the chalice.

“Now, pull it close to you and look straight down into the water. And tell it to show you something you need to know.”

Demetrius pulled it close, staring down into the water. “Such as?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Anything.” Father Dom snapped his fingers. “Ask it to show you where this third witch is.”

Sighing, Demetrius stared into the cup and said, “Show me the third witch.”

And the water began to swirl.

4

T
he swirl became a current and then a whirlpool, and the next thing Demetrius knew he was being sucked into that whirlpool and going down, down, down, until he emerged into...someplace else.

The sun blazed hot from an empty sky, and at first he thought he was in the Sonoran Desert, that he had perhaps sleepwalked past the gate and was wandering in the wasteland. But in only a moment he knew this desert was different. No saguaro cactus, no red rocks. And when he looked a little farther he saw, in the distance, the brightly decorated gates of a glittering city. The wall was built of glazed bricks, lapis blue, with borders of gold, and bulls, horses and lions as decorations and guardians. An archway rose in the center, to mark the city gate.

The Ishtar Gate,
a voice whispered in his mind. Strange. He’d never heard that name before. Looking from the distant city to his more immediate surroundings, he noted his own odd clothing. A white garment gathered at both shoulders and hanging to just above his knees, crossed by a red sash that he sensed indicated something of importance. A heavy sword was belted at his side, and a smaller knife—but not his sacred dagger—was strapped to his thigh. He wore sandals on his feet.

The body was familiar. The clothing and everything else was alien to him.

“Come quickly, before someone sees us,” she said, and there was laughter in her voice.

He turned in surprise toward that soft, delighted, slightly mischievous and achingly familiar voice to see a woman who matched it in every way. She had waves of flowing black hair and ebony eyes outlined in black, her lids painted a gleaming metallic gold, her lashes so thick and dark they needed no enhancement. Those eyes were fixed on him, and once he met them he couldn’t look away.

She was holding out a hand to him. “Come on. What are you waiting for, my love? You know we won’t have much time.”

Mesmerized, he took her small warm hand, and only when she broke eye contact could he lower his gaze to notice, at last, her full, berry-stained lips. Then she tugged him forward, and he noticed the rest of her. She was very small, but curvy and strong. Her breasts were as full as ripe melons, and barely concealed beneath a scrap of white fabric she had wrapped around them like a scarf. A similar and only slightly larger piece embraced her hips and round, plump buttocks. And in between, her skin was smooth and copper-bronze, kissed by the desert sun. Her belly was flat and tight and tan. Her short legs were shapely, with thick thighs and full calves, her arms beckoned like the golden likenesses of the demon serpents that entwined them.

She was the most beautiful female in all the world. And it was not only he who said so. The King agreed.

The King. His friend. His sovereign. This woman was his property.

And yet, she is my love.

He blinked, surprised by the heartfelt declaration that had whispered through his mind.

He followed where she led, where the sands became broken by greenery, just a tuft here and there, though soon it was thicker. There was a trio of date palms beside a pile of boulders, and amid them a bubbling spring. Other trees and plants had sprung up near the water, and she led him into the densest, greenest part of the oasis, where some of the plants were even beginning to flower.

She led him to the far side of a large boulder and then pulled him downward until he was kneeling. Reclining on a nearby flat rock, she drew him toward her, and he did not resist.

“Come to me, my beloved,” she whispered. “I thought this day would never arrive. I’ve missed you so.”

He leaned over her, and she tilted her chin up, parting her lips in welcome. He told himself this was a very bad idea, then rationalized that it was, after all, only a dream. A vision. A hallucination. Something. And he decided to enjoy it.

When his mouth touched hers his body caught fire, and every thought he might have had was driven from his brain by a rush of pure molten desire. He slid his arms around her, gathering her to him, holding her as he stretched out atop her. Kissing her while their tongues entwined and their bodies pressed together urgently, he knew this was the sort of passion he’d been missing. This was what people talked about when they sang the praises of physical pleasure. And he’d only just begun. His heart pounded, and his blood heated to a boil. He had to have her. He would do anything for her. Anything!

Pulling away slightly, he opened his eyes to gaze upon her beauty as he reached down to untie the knot of fabric between her breasts. His eyes were riveted as the fabric fell away, revealing perfect breasts, round and full, their dark centers making his mouth water. He lowered his head, unable to hold back a second longer. First he kissed, and then he laved, and then tugged and nibbled while she made soft sounds of delight and dug her fingernails into his scalp.

Smiling, he lifted his head to stare into her eyes again. But she had changed, and he sat up fast, scuttling away from her, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. Her skin had gone softer, whiter, and her hair was like spun silk of palest yellow now. Her eyes were blue, yet still the same eyes. She was the same.

“You’re the witch!” he said, stunned.

She blinked at him, then smiled as if he were making a joke. “I’m
your
witch. Your very own.”

“Demetrius!” He felt a hard slap on the side of his face, and he surged from his chair to his feet, reaching for the sword at his side.

Only then, when he didn’t find it, did he blink the real world into focus once again. The old priest was standing near him, no longer sitting on the other side of the table. They were on the balcony of his own home. There were half-naked beauties prancing around below for his viewing pleasure...and every other pleasure he could have asked for, he thought. But they didn’t interest him.

He looked at the priest. Father Dom, his brain reminded him. A man who, though his presence was irritating, had become a sort-of advisor to Demetrius in the few days he’d been there. He’d been filling in a lot of blanks about his lifetime before the void, information he’d craved.

“The chalice pulled you into a vision, didn’t it?” the old priest asked. “Did it show you where she is?”

Demetrius shifted his gaze to the chalice, but only for a quick, darting glance for fear he would fall into it again. Truly, this artifact was more powerful than he had ever known. “She’s on an airplane,” he said, because that was what he saw in his head now, apparently in direct response to Father Dom’s question. There were no more ancient city walls, no more foreign deserts.

“She’s on her way, then. She’ll be your undoing, Demetrius. If you let her.”

He swallowed hard, wishing he could be rid of the man. There had been something in that vision that he was eager to ponder, but he couldn’t do it with the old priest there. “I won’t let her in when she arrives.”

“You won’t be able to keep her out.” Father Dom stood behind a large ornamental ficus and stared down toward the gate.

“I have an excellent security system.”

“She has witchcraft.” The priest rubbed his chin and paced away from the railing but didn’t retake his chair. “No, I think you’ll have to let her in. Prepare yourself for it, know how you will handle her, and get it over with as quickly as possible.”

“I don’t understand what you think I should do, Father Dom. Handle her how?”

“I’ll explain it,” the old man said, and the words were laced with sarcasm. “You will let her in, and you will meet with her. She will tell you that your soul is incomplete, that she possesses its missing piece, but that to accept it you must give up all your powers. You will let her make this offer to you, and then you will say no. Turn her down. Send her on her way.”

Demetrius frowned at the man. “That’s all?”

“Yes. That’s all.”

“Then it will be easy.”

“No, Demetrius, it will not be easy. In fact, it will be harder than you can possibly comprehend.”

“She tries to convince me to become mortal and weak, and I say no. How hard can it be?”

Father Dom shrugged. “How hard was it the last time?” he asked.

Demetrius frowned, searching the old man’s lined face, which, he thought, didn’t seem as deeply lined as it had when he’d first arrived. And it was plumper, too. How was that possible?

“Let me answer, since you don’t remember,” Father Dom went on. “It wasn’t hard for you to turn her down before. It was
impossible.
It was your inability to refuse this woman’s feminine wiles or withstand her supernatural charms that resulted in the stripping of your soul and your being sentenced to an afterlife imprisoned within an eternal void. If anything, it will be even more difficult this time.”

“Why?” Hell, why was he prolonging the conversation by asking questions? He wanted the priest to leave him so he could mull over this vision he’d just experienced. “I think it should be easier. Surely I’ve learned from experience that—”

“You’ve learned nothing. And this is her last chance to take your powers. She’s desperate this time, Demetrius. She will do anything, use any advantage, to convince you to accept her offer.”

Demetrius narrowed his eyes. “How do you know so much about her—and me—and...all of this?”

The priest shifted his gaze away. “As I told you, I’ve had access to ancient scrolls that record the tale.”

“Are you lying to me, priest?”

“Would you like to see the scrolls for yourself, Demetrius? The ones on which your entire history is recorded? I’ll happily show them to you.”

“Perhaps I should,” Demetrius said, only too aware that such documents might be easily forged, and that he did not possess the expertise to know the difference.

“Of course. I have a handwritten copy, handed down through the priests of my line for generations, inside. It’s in Akkadian. Do you read Akkadian, Demetrius?”

He sent the priest an impatient look. “I think you know that I do not.”

“But you can afford to hire a translator, can’t you? I can send for the originals, if you like. They’re in storage at the moment, as I’ve been...ill. I can have them here in a matter of days, if it will help you trust me. But believe me when I tell you, you will learn no more from them than exactly what I have said to you today.”

Demetrius lowered his head. “I’m tired. My head aches. I need to be alone.”

“Yes, of course. You’ve been in this world for how long, Demetrius? A couple of months? With no idea who you really are, or why you’re here.”

Eyes narrowed, Demetrius raised his head and studied the priest, who had just read his soul, or so it felt. “And you can tell me who I am? Why I’m here?”

Father Dom retook his seat at the table, reached across and covered Demetrius’s hand with his own. “You were a great soldier, the most trusted man in the army of the greatest king who ever lived, Balthazorus. A man whose name should have gone down in history but instead is lost in obscurity because he died before his time.”

“At my hand,” Demetrius whispered.

“Yes.” Father Dom nodded slowly. “At your hand, but only because you had been seduced and ensorcelled by a witch, Demetrius. She’s powerful enough to make a man murder his own best friend.”

“So she could be free of the harem,” Demetrius said softly, trying to make sense of things.

“Yes.”

“And now she’s returned to take my powers, using the same methods. Seduction. Sex.” A shiver of icy hot sensation shot up his spine as he recalled his dream/memory of lying atop her in the oasis.

“Exactly.”

“And if I accept what she offers, I will become mortal again, lose my powers. But what will I gain?”

“Nothing but weakness, my friend,” said the priest.

“And if deny her? What happens then?”

“If you can stand firm until the moment of Beltane, which will fall on May fifth— It’s the cross-quarter date that marks the halfway point between the vernal equinox and the summer solstice. It’s the only other time of the entire year when the veil between the worlds is as thin as it is at Samhain. If you can resist her that long, she will have to accept your answer and leave you alone.”

“And it will be over? I will be able to live my life the way I want to, without interference from anyone. Correct?”

“Perfectly.” Father Dom patted his hand. “This is a lot to take in all at once, I know. But trust me, Demetrius, I am here for you for as long as you need me. And this will go easier now that you have an ally who knows what is happening.”

Demetrius nodded. “Why was I given these powers?” he asked. “The blade, the chalice?”

The priest seemed taken aback; then he shrugged. “That’s a question I can’t answer. I honestly do not know. Use them wisely. Tell no one.”

Demetrius nodded in understanding and gave his guest some thought. “How are you doing up there? In the observatory? Are you comfortable?”

“I am.”

“If there’s anything you need, I can ask Sid to get it for you. Or you can. Just pick up any phone in the house, press one and he’ll pick up. Tell him you’re my guest.”

Father Dom chewed his lower lip briefly. “This Sid, I could trust him to keep my presence to himself?”

“I trust him,” Demetrius said. “Though I suspect he would tell Gus. So until you’re ready for them to know...”

“Thank you. I appreciate your generosity.”

“I have more than any man needs.” Demetrius sighed. “I need some solitude, now.” He started for the door.

“Just one thing before you go, my friend...”

Demetrius had almost reached the door, but he paused, itching now to be alone. “Yes?”

“When the witch comes, she must not see me or know that I am here. It is vital. If she knows, she will try to kill me.”

Demetrius turned then, his brows arching high. “She would kill you?”

“On sight. I told you, she is desperate. And evil. And powerful, my friend. You must never forget how powerful she is.”

Demetrius nodded slowly. “All right.”

“And since we don’t want her knowing of my presence, I think it best we continue to keep that information from everyone else who lives here, as well. Sid, and your friend Gus.”

Demetrius tilted his head slightly to one side. “They won’t tell her if I ask them not to.”