Destroyed by Onyx (A Dance with Destiny Book 4) (43 page)

“That was my intent, yes,” she said. “I’m just waiting for the flames to die… along with my heart.”

The two Archs looked to one another. When Raphael gently touched her shoulder, she stiffened.

“Such was his fate from birth, Little Fire,” Raphael said. “The King yet lives. Finnean fulfilled his destiny.”

Jenevier could no longer feel the beating of her numb heart. Her gaze didn’t leave the funeral pyre, yet her whole body began to shake.

“Never speak such words within my hearing, Brother. If you so much as utter his name once more, you will have to kill me. I swear not to stop until you do.”

Raphael slowly removed his hand and took a step back. He glanced nervously at his brother Arch

“Little Naga,” Gabriel said. “The valiant man who saved you when you fell and claimed you as his only daughter, that man yet lives because of the honorable sacrifice of your beloved. Have you no gratefulness in your heart?”

A feral growl rumbled in her throat. “Gratefulness?” She snorted. “I am
awash
with it, Brother. The fact Drostan yet lives shows the awesome magnitude of my
gratefulness
.”

“And… how long will that gratefulness hold?” Gabriel asked.

Her fixed gaze never faltered. “Until my beloved’s embers are as cold stone.”

Brodder moved to stand beside her, taking her balled up fist in his hand. “Who is it you speak to, my daughter?” He gently unclasped her tiny fingers. “Who is it that brings even more grief to your eyes on this darkest of all days?”

Looking down at her half open palm, Brodder saw the treasure she held to so fiercely—Finnean’s Warrior Shield amulet. Fresh tears slid down his cheeks and his broken heart seemed to crumble within him.

“We are not alone, Father,” she said, closing her snowy fingers back around the precious medallion. “As much as I wish we were,” she mumbled. “The Archs who once killed me have come to torment me further.”

The King of Val Hal turned to the darkness surrounding them. “I beg you. Leave my child in peace this day. Can you not see she is shattered? These morbid flames are all that’s left to remind her heart it’s still beating. And, they fade… all too fast.”

“Fret not, Father. They are of no consequence, and their useless words cannot touch me.” She continued to stare, unblinking, into the flames. “My heart is as stone and my will as granite. I am beyond their reach.”

Brodder squeezed her tiny hand as he brought it to his mouth, softly kissing the tattooed flesh. “Tell me. What is your intent concerning Drostan?”

She turned to him then, looking the giant man square in the eye. “That is not a thing to burden your kind heart with, Father. You do not need such knowledge as that. You are too honorable a man to be scarred by those words.”

“Will you demand his life?”

She turned back to the flames. “I will.”

“Then… your heart is set upon this thing?”

“It is.”

He sighed. “Will it be quick?”

Her unexpected laugh was blood-freezing. “Longer than you can possibly imagine.”

“Forget not, dear daughter. He was once a gallant warrior… before the demon war claimed his whole world.”

“As he claimed mine,” she spat. “You ask me to show mercy to this man because of who he once was? Who any of us
once
were is no longer relevant. We make our own choices here and now, today. And we must each pay for them—reap what we have sown.” She released his hand. “I once heard it said… If you can live with the worst possible outcome from your actions, then act. If you cannot, then act not. I know the worst possible outcome from my actions, Father. I have lived through it before, many times. I only pray it claims my barely beating heart this go-around.” She drew in a deep breath. “The once valiant man who tried to murder my father and plunged his deceitful blade through my husband’s beautiful heart, that same man will suffer greatly by my hands. His screams will greet the dawn, yet… his flesh will not.”

Brodder’s breath caught. “You will filet him?”

Her black eyes sparkled. “Aye, and slowly at that,” she said.

Her cold, vicious smile shook the King. It would haunt him always.

He lowered his head. “I will depart and leave you to it then, wee moon.” He lovingly touched her curls and placed a farewell kiss on the side of her head. “Will I ever see you again?”

Her jaw hardened. “Do you wish to?”

He sighed. “…I no longer know,” he whispered.

Brodder had already turned from her. He didn’t see the silent tears his last words pulled from her fathomless eyes.

“Think about what you’re doing, little sister,” Raphael said. “It’s not too late. Drostan yet lives, chained within the castle’s dungeon.”

“Gratitude, Raphael, for pointing that out,” she said sardonically. “The obvious had escaped me. Now go. Leave me. Oh, and after this night… you will no longer call me
little sister
.”

“Very well, Naga,” Raphael said. “Farewell, tiny Princess. Part with the knowledge that I will love you… always.”

He retreated from her then, leaving only Gabriel to change her hardened heart.

“Naga, revenge is never a straight line. It’s akin more to a maze—easy to get turned around in and forget where you came from, where you’re going, where the exit is. Remember your past, tiny Angel. Do not let such hard learned lessons fall to the wayside. You earned them, good and true. Put them to work for you now, Empress, for I promise you this. Enter this dark maze, and you will forget your destiny, little sister.”

“Then I shall forge a new destiny, Gabriel. One that is befitting my darkness.”

Tears burned the Archangel’s golden eyes. “As you wish, Little Fire.”

And he, too, departed from her.

When she was truly alone, Jenevier released her borrowed strength and fell to her knees.

“Nilakanta!”

I am here, little one.

The great Dragon approached her from the darkness, coming to stand behind her. Dragon and Guardian stared, motionless, into the most horrible fire imaginable.

I will be your strength, Naga. Release your pain, Guardian of Dragons.

And with his assurance, she did.

Jenevier screamed from the very depths of her shattered soul.

Her pain-filled cry resonated even unto the dungeon, rattling Drostan’s chains, causing his regretful tears to drip upon the cold stone floor.

Brodder stood atop the battlements, staring at his broken little moon clinging tightly to her giant Dragon.

Her second blood-chilling wail sent the King to his massive knees. There, before his weeping generals, Brodder cried out for mercy from the heavens. He entreated the
one
God his only daughter had told him about, begged for precious mercy on her behalf.

“Dammit to hell,” Brian hissed. “Why must she go through this kind of wretched pain again? She didn’t deserve this. Neither of them deserved this.” Tears streamed down his face. “Can someone explain how this could happen? And right under our very noses, for criminy’s sake. How could Drostan stand beside us for so many years and still keep his wicked intentions secret? How the hell could he do something so vile and heartless?”

Gráda’s gaze remained fixed on the broken little Angel he loved, sitting with her Dragon by the fire’s edge. “I have long stopped asking why the mad do mad things,” he said. “They just do.”

“Yes,” Brodder added. “I gave the man everything. Alas, you can have everything and still be miserable. Happiness comes from within; it is but your state of mind.”

“True,” Eògan whispered. “Unless that mind is ruled by insanity.”

Chapter 41

Apollyon

(ah-PAH-lee-ahn)

All had been silent for quite some time. Only the occasional crackle of the flames broke up the deafening stillness.

Tell me of your rare warrior, Little Fire. I wish to know more of the man you grieve so fiercely for.

Her shoulders still shook intermittently as her lungs strove for more air. Swollen eyes, too painful to touch, still gazed fixedly at the dwindling flames.

She shuddered. Nilakanta tightened his giant wings around her, pressing her deeper into his velvety chest.

“You are so soft, so warm,” she said absently.

Only for you, my Naga.

She sighed wearily, but smiled at his words.

“I have been blessed,” she whispered. “I have known many valiant men, many brave and noble hearts. None more so than my Finnean.”

His ice blue eyes and snow white hair appeared plainly in her mind. He smiled at her and her heart swelled.

“He was amazing. He told me he loved me daily. Yet, he never even had to form the words. I knew, minus his voice.” She smiled then, her tears now filled with fond remembrance. “The way he always woke first and tenderly kissed my forehead. The way he could tell me a story or sing me a lullaby, and all my fears were forgotten. The way he took special care when harvesting the rose petals for my morning tea. He always looked so serious when he was doing it, making sure to only pluck the tender new ones, never letting the blend become overpowered with too many red ones. The way he hung up my clothes every night, and then placed our garments for the next day side by side. How he always handed me one of his tunics to sleep in, no matter how many nightdresses I owned.” Her smile was glorious and genuine, flames dancing in her watery black eyes. “In truth, I preferred his tunics. His calming scent wrapped about me, hugging my senses, filling my heart with only him… all night long. The way he made sure all the little bottles of my favorite soaps and oils never ran dry. How he insisted on holding my hand as we walked, even if it was just to the other room. He would slide his fingers between mine and smile. He never said a word, never acted like it was anything out of the ordinary. Caring for every little detail, holding
all
things in our life as precious… it came as natural to him as breathing.”

She wrapped her arms around her Dragon’s chest, squeezing tightly. Then, she lost it again. Her unexpected wails caused even Nilakanta to jump slightly.

Brodder strained to see his beloved daughter, but the flames were too small to reveal much of the odd couple sitting atop that funeral hill. Still, he didn’t leave the wall. He couldn’t bear to go inside while she yet sat beside those dying embers.

Her Dragon tried to soothe her.
Forgive me, little one. Your pain is too great. We will save those precious memories for another day.

She only stiffened and stared at the pyre. “His bones…” she whispered. “Nilakanta, the flames haven’t fully claimed his bones.” Panic turned her words into shouts. “He is not yet ash. I cannot bear to look upon his charred remains.”

The giant sapphire Dragon gently breathed upon the tiny fire, causing the flames to shoot back to their original height.

Brodder Scot could once again see the stricken face of his tiny moon goddess.

“She is completely shattered, Milord,” Brian whispered.

The King sighed. “Aye, that she is, Brother. That she is.”

“I’m not so sure we should have left her alone up there,” Gráda grumbled. “I fear madness will set in before the dawn does.”

Jenevier kissed her Dragon’s chest, nuzzling him before she leaned back against him. “Gratitude, dear friend. I would never have been able to handle that—looking upon his blackened bones. I will always be thankful you were at my side.”

I will always be at your side, Little Fire, always.

They were silent for a while, staring blindly into the roaring flames.

A smile slowly crossed her face. “I remember the first time we went riding in the snow,” she said. “Wow… I’d never seen anything quite so lovely in my life. The land was washed with whiteness, sparkling purity everywhere you looked.” She giggled. “Finnean said I would be lost forever if I removed my cloak. Had it not been so cold, I would have done it for the chase alone.”

That would’ve been something to see, Naga.

Her smile faded slightly. “He became my whole world, Nilakanta. Everything I am, well… it was tied to that glorious man.” She nodded toward the flames. “I never expected to lose him so soon. I forgot to hold back, forgot to save a little piece of
me
. I gave him everything, Dragon. He got it all. I can’t move forward. I don’t know how. I am stuck, lost and stuck.”

Return to your brethren in Vanahirdem, Naga. Go home to your beloved Jinn. Visit the little Elven Princess you grew up with. Fall into the loving arms of your precious son.

“Ha, my son. I’ve not seen my son in so many years, I know not if he even lives. The Elf girl’s out. I will never return to Ashgard. My home is here now, Dragon. My only brethren are the noble Celts of this beautiful realm.” Her voice shook. “And now my heart and soul have been consumed within the flames of this pyre. If I possessed but a single ounce of bravery, I would have lain beside him within the fire. Clinging to my snow-crowned warrior, I should have followed him to the Otherworld. If I possessed but a single ounce of bravery, that is.”

“You would have only felt the excruciating pain of your pale flesh dripping from your bones. You would not have been granted your end. Trust me. I know. I’ve tried.”

Her black eyes scanned the darkness, searching for the owner of that once familiar, soul-stirring voice.

“How have you come here?” she hissed. “Show yourself, Devil.”

“I can feel your great hatred from here, Milady. I dare not come any closer.”

“Then why speak at all?” she cried. “Why heap pain upon my wretched soul?” She struggled to untangle herself from Nilakanta’s protective wings. “Why are you here? Tell me. Do you spy upon me? Have you always?”

Brodder heard her shouts. He scanned the hilltop, finding her ghost white form standing by the raging pyre, yelling into the darkness. He started to go to her but Gráda stopped him.

“Hold and listen, Sire,” he said. “Something doesn’t smell right. Blood is on the wind.”

“Then she needs me all the more,” Brodder demanded.

Gráda gave him a sideways, knowing glance. “Sire, the one she crosses words with now, he is not of this realm. Your sword will be of no use. He will slay you without thought. Do not cast aside Finnean’s noble sacrifice. Don’t add even more pain to her already destroyed heart.” Gráda looked back to the tiny colorless woman. “That little girl can handle herself. Let the wee thing’s story play out as it should. Be there to catch her. But let her fight her own battle.”

The men looked back to their tormented little moon goddess, powerless to help her.

“I did not come to cause you more pain, dear one,” the voice continued. “I only came to deliver a message.”

“You? The reigning Prince of all demons. You expect me to believe you would stoop to being an errand boy?” She laughed, but there was no joy in the hollow sound. “No matter what the reason, how is it you are allowed to traipse about upon the layers? And they call
me
the Death Angel,” she spat. “Never could I surpass your body count. By your hand or by your word, it matters not. You are the embodiment of blessed death.” She took another step into the darkness, away from the fire. “Gift
me
with it, Apollyon. Shower your curse upon my head and free me from the hell that is my existence.” Her tears were flowing without pause. “You laid low my first husband with your blade, and this one burns because of your actions as well.” She pointed toward the melting bones of her beloved. “Your revenge, your bloody war, it left a valiant man broken and mad. His hand wielded the blade, yes, but
your
actions set it into motion.” Her shaking voice rose to a piercing scream. “I curse the day I ever laid eyes upon you. I wish, by all that’s holy, I had torn out your heart when I had the chance.”

“Listen to me.” His voice was chilling, demonic. “Give me but one moment and I will leave you to your grief.”

“No,” she screamed. “Speak no more.” She cupped her hands over her ears. “No matter your words, I do not wish them inside my head.”

He continued minus her protests. “Finnean begged me tell you… Do not skin the chained man.”

Jenevier wrapped her arms around her stomach and fell to her knees. “No. It’s a lie.” She sobbed bitterly. “Finnean is not in hell. He couldn’t be.”

“No, little Angel. Finnean is not in hell,” Apollyon whispered softly. “We don’t allow souls as glorious as his to enter there… well, not normally. You were an exception, my love. No, I smelled your essence, he reeked of it. I found your white warrior as he passed through the Nether. He has traveled safely on to his Otherworld, Jenevier. He regretted leaving you, he misses you terribly. But he is blissfully happy now. I hope you can find some small comfort in that knowledge.”

She could literally
feel
her soul tearing. Apollyon could feel it as well. He longed to reach out and comfort her.

“He heard what you said to your father, Little Fire. Finnean was standing next to you when you spoke of your plans for Drostan’s murder.” Apollyon came close enough to reach out and touch her curls. “The Arch, Raphael, escorted him through the Nether and beyond. He told Finnean of your punishment if you go through with this thing. Your beloved husband pleaded with me to find a way to get word to you before it was too late. And that’s why I came, beautiful Angel. To
save
your soul, not torture it.” He snorted out a soft laugh. “Imagine how miserable your next life would be if you had to spend it by
my
side… in the pits. I did not wish you the pain of my company for all eternity, sweet Empress.”

Apollyon did touch her then, knelt down beside her and stroked the dull silver curls covering her bent head. She didn’t respond. She didn’t even move.

“Jenevier, my love. Did you hear me?”

She raised her head, but her eyes were vacant when they found his. All life was gone; they were as the dead.

“I am not your love. And, yes. I heard you.” She stood then, swayed slightly, and turned toward the blazing flames. “Tell me. Have you never heard it said… Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t?” She cast a glance back over her shoulder.

He chuckled at her reference. “Yes, I believe I’ve heard that somewhere before,” he said. “Be that as it may, tiny Angel. You deserve no devil at all.”

She sighed. “No, I don’t. I deserve much worse,” she mumbled to herself.

“Come closer to me, little one. Do not turn from me. It has been so long. Come. Let me feel your breath upon my skin.” Apollyon was trying to turn her thoughts from the ones he could plainly see playing about within her. “Touch me, Anicee. I like the way it makes me tingle inside.” He cautiously stepped closer. “Let me bite you, Princess. Let me do the things you once loved. I want the taste of you upon my tongue, filling my mind, completely consuming me.”

“You can cease your play, Prince of demons,” she said numbly. “You have accomplished what it was you came here to do. You can leave now, minus fear. I will not kill the chained man. I lost my taste for bitter vengeance wrapped within my Dragon’s wings.”

Apollyon glanced toward Nilakanta and then nervously back to the Angel who owned his heart. She was eerily calm. It terrified him.

“What plays about in your mind, little one? Your actions cause my heart to tremble. Yet I can no longer feel your true intent. What is it you’re hiding from me, Anicee?”

She didn’t answer his questions, only asked her own. “Am I still immortal, Vindicus? Do you know if I’m still an Angel? Or did the removal of my wings bring about my humanity?”

Her back was to him, he nervously reached for her. “I know not, Jenevier. I don’t even believe Gabriel knows for sure. You have lived happily upon this layer for seven years. And yet, you haven’t aged a single day.”

He lightly touched one of her curls and took a step closer. She didn’t respond in any way.

“Is that your only reasoning? My lack of wrinkles?”

“Your beauty is indeed rare, no matter which race claims you. But, no. That is not my only reasoning. You are minus your wings, yet your ethereal blades obey you.”

She softly snorted. “And just how is it you would come to know such a thing as that?”

“Ahriman,” he whispered. “I asked him how he came by such scars. You marred his flawless face, Little Fire. His ethereal beauty is his greatest weapon. You struck a mightier blow than you realize.”

“The soul-eater had it coming,” she grumbled. “He’s the creature who placed a curse within me. He’s the man who made me fear the dark… fear even sleeping.” She paused for a moment. “Is Ahriman’s tiny scar your only proof of my mortality? Or lack thereof?”

“No. But it makes me terribly happy every time I see him. You have blessed me with eon’s worth of entertainment at his expense.” He gently placed a hand upon her shoulder. “Kagi Naga, Jenevier, my tiny Anicee, your claws may be gone, yet your guardianship remains intact. The proof of that stands flesh before you.” He nodded toward the sapphire Dragon eagerly eyeing him. “Perhaps you are both, Little Fire.”