Daughter of Gods and Shadows (6 page)

BOOK: Daughter of Gods and Shadows
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Katie owned every apartment on the twenty-first floor, because she liked the views and could live in any of them depending on her moods. The one she lived in now was on the end with a beautiful skyline that took her breath away at night. Actually, it didn't literally take her breath away, but she liked using that metaphor because humans used it all the time and it sounded dramatic.

She was considered wealthy. Most Ancients lived the way she did, unless they chose not to. Because they lived longer than humans, they had the benefit of time to collect things humans considered valuable: land, art, gemstones, and precious metals. When this world was young, it was full of treasures that could easily be found on mountainsides or in rivers. They stored such things, and as time passed, the value in them increased, allowing them to afford the comforts this world had to offer.

She stopped at the door next to her apartment. Most times, she walked right past it, almost forgetting that it was even there—that
she
was there. Katie had found it difficult to be too far away from her, even now, after The Fall had changed so much of her life. She had grown to love this world, almost as much as she'd loved Theia. But it was one thing to rule a world, and another to actually live in it like everyone else. Behind that door, though, was a part of her, a part of her past that she held close to her heart, unable to let it go, no matter how much she knew she should.

Katie looked at the doorknob and watched it turn to open at her will. The door creaked open, and slowly she walked into what had been a small apartment but now was a portal to a vast wasteland, a prison in limbo between time and space. The hot desert wind whipped against the side of her face, nearly blowing off her large framed glasses and toppling over her petite frame. Sand gave way to each step she took toward the moaning and wailing coming from the distance miles away from where she entered. Katie peeled out of her sweater and let it fall to the ground behind her. The oppressive heat weighed down on her like bricks, and thirst scratched the back of her throat. In the apartment, she'd only walked a few feet before finally seeing her. But in this arid land, she'd walked for many miles to get to her Beloved daughter, Mkombozi, or what was left of her.

This place wasn't real, but it was a reflection of a world and of a time far removed from the one she lived in now. The place had been made at Khale's request, using a collection of spells from the Pixies. For reasons even she didn't understand, Khale had needed this, a painful reminder of her love, loss, and sacrifice.

Khale-Katie stood far enough away to see her, but to still be safe from the rage spewing from her body in a poisonous gas that would kill anyone who stood too close, even an Ancient as old as she was. Ara had not been like this before Khale had exiled her to this place. Ara had been to Ancients what humans imagined heaven to be: beautiful, serene, and peaceful. It had been a place to rest.

The merciless heat instantly dried her eyes of any tears threatening to form in them at the sight before her—Mkombozi, with shackles around her wrists and ankles anchored deep into the ground. Her skin, dry and cracked, made her unrecognizable as the beautiful young female she'd once been. Her hair was a mass of thorns and twigs. This creature was a hull of the Mkombozi she'd known. She was what was left after Katie Smith—Khale—came to accept that her Beloved child was overrun with rage to the point that there was no getting her back.

Khale had waited and hoped that the essence of Mkombozi would somehow break through the destruction and rage of the Omens to become herself again. Theia had fallen because of Mkombozi. She had succumbed to the Omens. Omens, that at one time had been the salvation of their world, had led to the devastation of it. The Omens had destroyed Mkombozi until there was nothing left of her except everything that had been evil in them.

Mkombozi had been a warrior, and she had been Khale's heart and soul. And Mkombozi had been the keeper of the Theian Omens that would have destroyed Sakarabru once and for all.

Mkombozi wailed like a banshee in the distance, breaking Khale's heart. She'd have stayed here forever with her if she could. But Katie Smith had to go back to her apartment and take a shower. She had to watch the
American Idol
finale and get ready for work in the morning. She blew a kiss to her Beloved, then turned and started the long trek back toward the front door to that apartment. The time had come. It was here now. Eden would finally finish what the Redeemer had been called to do, and Eden would succeed where Mkombozi had failed. She had no choice.

 

SILLY GIRL

The beginning is always followed by the end.… When did I become a ghost?

Kid Cudi had a surprising way of keeping things in perspective. Maybe he was like her, a shadow of who he thought he was, and just as confused as Eden.

Eden walked with her head lowered, her arms folded across her chest, angry. It seemed like she was always angry and guarded, prepared to fight, ready to explode. It was not a good way to live but it was easier with her head down. She didn't have to look at them, and they were everywhere—creatures that looked like they were straight out of a horror movie, or aliens, only nobody else seemed to notice but her.

Eden walked down into the subway station replaying Rose's words back from memory.

“You're starting to see them.” The knowing look in Rose's eyes years ago, when Eden was just a child, caught Eden by surprise. “I know you are,” the beautiful and ageless olive-skinned Rose had said, taking hold of Eden's hands in hers. “You don't have to tell me. I know what you see.”

“Who are they, MyRose? Are they aliens?”

She laughed. “They are just different, Eden. And only very special people are allowed to see them.”

That's how Rose spun things to her that couldn't be explained. She called Eden special. Rose did the best she could under the circumstances. Eden didn't always tell her how much she loved her. She wasn't Eden's birth mother, but she had raised her, taken care of her, and loved her.

When Eden was a child, Rose was her refuge and her teacher. As Eden grew older, Rose became her anchor in a life that seemed to become more confusing with each passing year. Rose had tried to make Eden understand what was happening to her. She'd hoped that Eden would somehow embrace her so-called destiny, but she might as well have asked Eden to take a running leap over the moon.

*   *   *

They only wanted the pretty ones. This one was pretty. Very pretty. Tall and shapely; she wore her hair long. Both of them liked long hair on a woman. She wore her jeans tight. Nice. She was young too, with smooth skin, soft-looking and brown. And she had a beautiful mouth. It was hard not to be impressed by the shape of it, with lips that looked pillow-soft. One of them liked to kiss and would kiss her. The other didn't care for kissing at all, but still … she had a nice mouth.

All the girls were careless. That's one of the things they all had in common. They felt safe in their own skin, believed that nothing or no one could hurt them. It was obvious in how they walked and carried themselves, confidently and without concern or worry. They all knew how beautiful they were, but none of them believed that their beauty could be that thing that trapped them and condemned them.

Neither man—brothers—ever had to talk about the things they did. They never had to plan or discuss their intentions with the women. They were twins, after all, and knew each other's thoughts and needs intimately. When they spotted a woman, if they were together, they'd both fall into their roles quite naturally to make the magic happen.

This woman caught the train at three o'clock in the morning into Brooklyn after leaving the bar where she worked. She walked the same path to the same subway station and stood in the same spot on the platform waiting for the same train, and when it came, she'd get on and sit in the same seat. One of the brothers followed her down into that train station; the other was already there, waiting. Except for the three of them, the platform was empty.

The anticipation was nearly as gratifying as the act itself. It was about more than just the sex. It was about the element of surprise, of catching the cocky bitch off guard and proving to her once and for all that she wasn't invincible or too damn beautiful to be touched. It was as much about the power, the control of taking what they wanted without having to wait for permission. It was about the adrenaline coursing through the three of them, the woman in fighting for her virtue and even her life, and the two brothers, fighting back, knowing that they were stronger and that they outnumbered her and that they could have her simply because.

Like so many of the others, she paid more attention to that damn iPhone than she did to her surroundings, and before she could brace herself, the brother who'd followed her in from the street wrapped one muscled arm around her small waist and cupped her mouth with his other hand a split second before she could scream. The other brother grabbed her feet, and together, while she struggled, they carried her kicking and squirming into the janitorial closet.
Broom handles!
One of them imagined the things that could be done to a woman with broom handles, and he salivated.

They were so much alike and yet so different. One of the brothers, the one cupping her mouth, loved to cause them pain. How many different ways could he make her cry, suffer, bleed. But the other was the opposite. He was the one who hated to see them cry, the one who loved them and wanted to make love to them to make them forget about the pain and the suffering. He wanted them to want him, to need him, and to be thankful for him.

“Be still!” the one covering her mouth growled, backing into that small closet with her. “Stop it, or I'll snap your fuckin' neck!”

He pressed his hard cock, thickened, against her spine, letting her know what was waiting for her. The other brother let go of her legs but pushed himself close to her and squeezed between her thighs before she could kick at him.

“Shhhhh,” he said, stroking her lovely face. Tears and fear filled her eyes. It broke his heart.

“Do it!” his brother commanded from over her shoulder. “Get her jeans off!”

The one in front of her nodded. His hands raked down her shirt and over firm breasts. Nipples tickled his palms. They were rock hard. She was afraid. They were hard because she was afraid, but he would lick them and taste them and make her forget how afraid she was.

“It's all right,” he said, soothingly, but she was getting to be too much. Waiting for her was getting to be too much, and he had to have her. That was the rule. He'd get to have her first, and make love to her while his brother watched. And then, when he finished, he'd hand her over to him. “It's all right, sweetheart. I won't hurt you. I promise.”

“Hurry up!” his brother growled.

He unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans and then started to undo hers.

*   *   *

This wasn't happening! It wasn't real!

“I won't hurt you.” The man stepped away from her and began to unzip her jeans.

“Hurry the fuck up, man!” The other one holding her from behind demanded.

She was being raped. This was really happening! Eden squeezed her eyes shut.

Stop them!
Her voice commanded in her head. Her fear was overwhelmed by anger. How dare they put their filthy hands on her! And anger became swallowed by blood, red rage!

Fuckin' punish them!

Their ignorance will be their death!

Eden reached for the hand covering her mouth and relished the satisfying sensation of bones crushing in her grasp. The man holding her from behind screamed in agony, but Eden shut him up quickly with a jerk of her head, slamming it so hard into his mouth that she heard his jaw break. He released his grip on her, and Eden dropped hard to the floor on her back.

Movements clicked away in her mind like seconds on a clock, deliberate and methodical, coming to her so naturally that she felt as if she were putting on a performance.

“Hold her! Dammit!” The other man had no choice but to let her go, too, and when he did, Eden kicked him hard in his groin with the heel of her shoe and met him in the face with another kick when he doubled over in pain.

She stood up and looked down at both of them, one gushing blood from his nose and mouth, the other with tears in his eyes, cupping his balls in both hands, and writhing on the floor, glaring up at her.

They looked small and weak. Eden opened the door and stepped over the one sobbing on the floor.

“No!” He reached out and grabbed her by the ankle.


Mashbah!
” she growled, jerking away from him and kicking him in the face. The word meant something along the same lines as “fucker.”

She grabbed him by the hair and dragged him out of the small room and into the open, then dropped him like the sack of shit he was on the concrete floor. Eden knelt down next to him to get a closer look at how helpless this
mashbah
—“fucker”—really was.

“You're so fuckin' small,” she said, awed by how frail and helpless he truly was. He was inferior to her on so many levels that it was almost painful to look at him. He was an insect, something to be crushed underfoot and not even worth the effort of consideration, no matter how slight.

She was so focused on this one that she forgot about the other one, creeping up behind her, until she heard the sound of him gasping. Eden stood up and turned around. The other man was fighting for air as his feet dangled at least a foot off the ground. An Ancient, one unlike any she had ever seen before, held him by the throat and stared past the gasping would-be rapist at her with eyes the color of mercury.

Eden's heart pounded. She had never seen— But he was familiar! Oh God! She knew this one! How?

BOOK: Daughter of Gods and Shadows
12.51Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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