Daughter of Gods and Shadows (23 page)

“Hold up,” Prophet said, stopping a man from bursting in. “Who are you?”

Breathless, the man said, “I need to see Khale. It's about the reborn.”

“Let him in, Guardian.”

Eden sat frozen on the sofa, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her heart was racing as the man stumbled into the room and dropped to his knees at Khale's feet.

“Who are you, Were?” Khale asked.

Another man weeded his way through the crowd to get to the one who had just crashed the party.

“Argos?” he said, kneeling next to him. “What's wrong? What's happened?”

Blood dripped down the side of the man's face. “He's coming for her,” he said, finally managing to catch his breath.

“Who? What are you talking about?” Khale asked.

The other man put his hand up to quiet the Shifter.

“A big-ass Brood, man! He came into the colony.” He swallowed. “We tried to fight him off—six of us. I'm the only one who got away, Jarrod.” He said, panicked. “He killed the rest.… But I heard him ask Donovan … I heard him ask about the Guardian. The reborn's Guardian.”

Eden didn't know when Prophet had showed up next to her. She didn't even remember getting up from that couch, and she knew for a fact that no one in that room had told Argos who she was. He looked right at her.

“He's coming for you. He's coming for her.”

 

WHO YOU ARE

“Six of us went at him,” Argos explained, sipping on a beer that Jarrod had given him. “Six male Weres in full regalia”—he shook his head in disbelief—“and he handled us like we were rodents.”

“How'd you get away, Argos?” Jarrod asked.

“I ran, man,” he shrugged. “I saw what he was doing to the others, and I knew … that at least one of us needed to escape so that we could tell you about it.” The shame he felt was evident in his eyes. The Were were proud and loyal creatures, albeit stubborn and defiant. They looked after their own with the kind of conviction that was envied among other Ancients. Leaving his brother behind had not been an easy decision.

“Human Brood aren't like Theian Brood,” he said anxiously. “I get that. But this dude”—he glanced up at Jarrod, standing over him—“he was, Jarrod. He was as fierce a fighter as any Theian Brood I'd ever come up against, and you know that I know what I'm talking about. His strength and his skills were the shit that legends are made of.” He shrugged. “He made it look so fuckin' easy.”

While Argos spoke, Khale studied Eden for a reaction. A few weeks ago the girl would've gone running and screaming from the room, but now she just stood there, stone-faced and rigid. She had changed more than even she probably realized in a very short period of time.

“Why don't you go get some rest, Argos?” Jarrod said, patting him on the back and escorting him out of the room.

Prophet closed the door behind the Were as he left. “So what the fuck does this mean, Khale?” He glared at her as if she'd been the one to send the Brood into the Were colony.

“It means that the Demon is determined not to let history repeat itself,” Khale said, not taking her eyes off of Eden, who was staring back at her. “Would you two gentlemen leave us alone, please?”

Jarrod left without hesitating, but Prophet lingered until Eden smiled at him and nodded.

“Ever the Guardian, I see,” Khale chuckled as he closed the door behind him. “Even where I'm concerned.”

“Or especially?” Eden murmured.

She liked this new Eden, this one so filled with confidence and certainty, who hadn't burst out in tears once since she'd first walked through that door.

“I can see in your eyes that you now understand the gravity of these times.”

Eden dropped her gaze and nodded.

“This is bigger than you, Eden. It's bigger than me. The damage that Sakarabru has done can never be undone. Even if he is defeated, the people of this world will suffer from this deep and terrible scar he's inflicted upon them for generation after generation, and the word ‘normal' will evolve to mean something totally different than what it once meant.”

“So he's trying to kill me before I bond with the other Omens?” Eden asked apprehensively.

“He had heard of the legends of the Redeemer just like we all had. He had heard the stories of how she was to be our savior and his demise, but the legends were nothing more than stories to him. Fairytales. He ignored them, and it wasn't until after she'd made the last bond that Sakarabru had no choice but to come face-to-face with the only creature alive who could put an end to him.”

Tears flooded Eden's eyes, but she impressively blinked them away.

“My guess is that he's not going to make that mistake again. And yes, Eden, it seems that he is trying to get to you before you can make the final bond.”

Khale was careful not to say the word “kill,” but that didn't stop it from being the elephant in the room.

They had never had the kind of relationship that Khale had imagined they'd have when Eden was first born—or reborn. Rose had quickly stepped in as her mother, and Khale sort of hovered around the perimeter, waiting for the day to come when she could step in and be the mother to Eden that she had been to Mkombozi, but that day never really came. Looking at her now, it was impossible not to see Mkombozi in Eden.

Most of the similarities were subtle, and they always had been, but Eden had come to possess a regalness about her, a stature that had never been there before. Khale wondered how much of this change had come about because of the bond with the first Omen, how much had come from her relationship with the Guardian, and how much of it had come from seeing her world fall apart around her and knowing that she alone could save it.

Khale wanted so badly to reach out to her and to hold her and whisper to her that everything was going to be all right and that Eden could do this. She was the one who had been chosen to do it because she was the only one who could. But she knew that Eden would shun any such show of affection from the Shifter.

“Does anyone know where the second Omen is?” Eden eventually asked, glancing back at Khale.

“I had hoped that somehow you would know. I had hoped that the first Omen would lead you to the others.”

“The first Omen shows me the Demon's mind,” she explained, reluctantly. “I'm worried that it might show him mine,” she admitted. “He doesn't know who I am, but he's curious,” she said introspectively.

“Are you curious?” Khale asked.

Eden thought long and hard before answering her. “Yes.” Did she really just admit that out loud? And more importantly, did she mean it? “But I don't want him to know me, Khale. I don't want him to pull me in.”

That's the part that frightened her the most. It was the feeling she had that he could somehow trap her and make her want to stay in that place with him, almost as if he had the power to change her or make her like him.

Khale walked over to her. “But
in
is where you must go, Eden,” she said, gently.

Instead of arguing, Eden nodded. “I know, Khale. It's just…” Eden shrugged. “How much of me will be lost when I do?”

She said
when
—not
if
—but
when.
Khale couldn't help herself, and she reached out and took hold of Eden's hands. If history was not to repeat itself, then Khale had to do her part to see that it wouldn't. She had to be open with Eden and tell her the truth.

“The mind of Sakarabru is a trap,” she admitted. This time, it was the Shifter who was struggling not to cry. “Mkombozi fell victim to it in the end, Eden, and that's why I…” She swallowed. “That's what destroyed her.”

“Then it's going to destroy me too,” Eden added quickly.

“It doesn't have to.” Khale raised her hand to Eden's cheek. Of course, that was a lie, the one that Khale had to keep until the end. “The Redeemer is born for this because she is the one who has the ability to resist the trap of what the Omens hold. The Demon's mind, his power, his destruction—Mkombozi held those things back for a time, but eventually they took her.”

“Mkombozi was an Ancient warrior, Khale. She was born to fight. She was born strong and she was one of your generals. So, if she fell victim to the power of these things, what's to stop it from happening to me?”

Khale stared into the warm brown pools of Eden's eyes and saw this young woman struggling to be brave, still struggling to grasp this huge responsibility that had been put on her, and her heart ached for her.

“You, Eden,” she said, softly. “You can stop it.”

“How, Khale? If she couldn't then…”

“I can't tell you how, anymore than I could tell her. There is something in you, inside you, that is more powerful than you can know, Eden. When you survived that first bond, I knew it. Yes, Mkombozi was an Ancient. She was a warrior and a general, but it was never a question of whether or not she'd survive the bonds. I questioned yours.”

“Thanks, Khale,” she said sarcastically.

“It wasn't meant as an insult. You're human. Your body can only take so much, Eden, but you fought through it, you lived, and I have never been more proud than when I heard that my human girl from Brooklyn”—Khale smiled—“had survived the impossible. Do you understand what that means?”

Eden shook her head.

“It means that maybe, just maybe, you are even more powerful and more of a warrior than Mkombozi. And she was fierce.” She laughed, warmly.

There it was. Khale saw it, even if only for a moment, but Eden couldn't hide it no matter how much she'd wanted to—that glimmer of pride, of hope. It was just a spark, and a small one, but it was there. And for now, it would do.

 

AND SHE WAS

She was cute, the little Redeemer—savior or destroyer of the galaxy, or whatever. Jarrod didn't expect to see anybody out here this time of night, least of all her. He surveyed the area, looking for the Guardian, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Some Guardian,” he muttered under his breath.

Eden sat at the end of the pier dangling her feet off the edge. For a moment, Jarrod had the wicked thought of some Mer creature suddenly coming up and grabbing hold of her ankles, scaring the shit out of her. But they knew better, just like Jarrod knew better. If this Eden was who Khale said she was, then far be it from him to try to sneak up on her.

He coughed just to let her know that he was coming up from behind her. Jarrod had not chosen a side in the Theian wars, but a side had been chosen for him when Sakarabru wiped out his colony and killed his mate, Alaine. He'd joined forces with Khale for a chance to make the fucker pay, but the Redeemer, Mkombozi, had gotten to him first.

He sat down on the pier on the other side of Eden's cowboy boots.

“Shouldn't you be asleep?” he asked, staring into the black inkwell of water at her feet.

“Shouldn't you?” Eden responded apprehensively.

He was like the other Ancients, leery of Eden and what she was becoming. And she was leery of all of them. There was a determination in her expression, a bold but subtle challenge in her eyes that almost dared him to make just one wrong move. Jarrod was a Were and he knew this look well. What he didn't know was if her courage was because of the bond she'd made with the Omen or if it was just a good old healthy dose of human self-preservation.

“So, is it commonplace for that Guardian of yours to just let you go wandering around in the middle of the night without him?”

She shook her head. “No. Fortunately, he's a sound sleeper.” She actually smiled. “I needed time to myself.”

“You want me to leave?”

She paused and then shook her head. “No. You don't have to.”

Eden wasn't too tall, but the shapely legs that dangled off the edge of that pier were rather attractive, as legs go. She wore cutoff jean shorts, a black tank top, and an overcoat that looked a lot like the one the Guardian wore. Dradlocks were pulled up into some kind of knot and twisted on top of her head. In theory, it should've looked stupid, but on her, it worked. He couldn't believe that he even knew this word, but it came to mind and shocked the shit out of him: “delicate.” And she had some beautiful tits. He could tell that even hidden inside that jacket, because he was a man obsessed with boobs.

“It's only a matter of time before he senses you're gone and comes looking for you.”

Small talk wasn't his thing, but hell, it was the effort that counted in his book. She wasn't one of them, but thanks to Khale and her bag of tricks, she'd been dragged into some shit that had to have been mind-blowing. Jarrod couldn't help it. He felt sorry for her.

“Eventually, I'm sure he will,” she said, not bothering to even look at him.

This was Khale's reborn Redeemer. She was young, and she sat there looking exactly as she should, like a young woman who had the weight of the world on her shoulders. Shit! He could curse the Shifter out for this one. Khale could've found somebody else, like a sumo wrestler or a linebacker. Why in the world did she pick this one?

“How old are you?” he asked without thinking.

This time she did look at him. “Twenty-four.”

And she looked all of twenty-four. She was a fuckin' kid! Damn! If he thought he could get away with kicking Khale's ass for this, he would.

Jarrod could feel her staring at him now. “What?”

“So, you're a werewolf?”

“I'm a Were. Humans came up with this notion of a werewolf.”

“Based on your kind?” she probed.

He nodded. “They put their own spin on it, of course,” he said casually.

“Like?”

“Like that whole myth about us taking chunks out of people,” he explained, frowning. “That's pretty damn disgusting.”