Mayan Blood (25 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Arwan

As Arwan paced the room, Hawa sat, watching him walk back and forth, his fists clenched. Renato expected him to just stand by, as if he didn’t know what was at stake. Years of searching and focus had led up to this point, and he wasn’t even there to face Sarian and put an end to this once and for all.

Hawa sighed. “Why don’t you sit—?”

“I can’t believe Renato wants us to stay here.”

She sat back in her chair and inspected her nails. “Well, Uncle knows best and all that, right?”

Not this time. He had known Renato almost his entire life. Trust was something his mentor earned when Arwan was a young boy. Still, deep in his bones, this wasn’t right. “Renato always tries to be cautious, but this isn’t smart. We should be there. I should be there.”

“Well, don’t even think about taking off without me. If you’re going, so am I.”

He stopped pacing. Zanya needed him, and Sarian was so close. “Do you know where we can get some weapons?”

Hawa sat up straight. “Are you serious?”

“If anything happens to her, it’ll be my fault.”

She held up her hand. “All right, Prince Valiant. Don’t go riding in on your white horse without a plan. You’ll get everyone killed.”

She was right. But he couldn’t just stand there and wait for them to return. He ran his fingers through his hair, then opened the door. “I do have a plan.”

Hawa jumped up to her feet. “Let’s hear it.”

“My plan is to forget Renato’s plan, and go anyway.” Maybe it wasn’t very solid, but if he knew Hawa, that wouldn’t be a problem.

She grinned. “I’m down.”

“First we get weapons.” He slipped on his coat. “I have a score to settle.”

Hawa and Arwan slipped out of the hotel and through the streets. She signaled to an armory, and they walked through the old wooden door. The hinges creaked when it swung shut.

“Good morrow.” The short, pudgy man behind the counter was busy polishing the handle to a dark metal gun.

Hawa set her predatorial sights on the shopkeeper. “Let me handle this.” With a lick of her lips, she strutted to the counter. “Good morrow. My brother and I are in need of some weapons.”

“Ya came to the right place.” He winked at her. “What’r ya lookin’ for?”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure. Maybe you can give us a little tour of what you have available?”

“You know, it’s not entirely common to sell a gun to a woman.”

Hawa bent over the counter. “It’s good I’m not an entirely common woman.”

Arwan watched her seduce the poor man right into compliance.

“A’course, dear.” He set down the gun and removed another from the display behind him. “This here would do ya just fine. It’s brand-new in stock. Perfect for a lady’s hands.” He leaned in close to her. “And perfect for fitting in your garter, so I’ve heard.”

Arwan whispered, “I don’t know how to shoot a gun.”

“Well…” She paused, waiting for his attention to leave her cleavage. She snapped her fingers. “Up here, darling.” His eyes shifted up to her face. “Good boy. Now, I was thinking, maybe you have something a bit more…close contact?”

“What kinda close contact do ya think ya need, darling?” He peered at Arwan. “You sure he’s your brother? Ya know, I don’t look down on a workin’ gal. Everyone’s gotta eat.”

She stood up straight and perched her hands on her hips. “I am not a hooker.”

His brows knitted together. “A what, miss?”

She scoffed and turned toward Arwan. He had better rescue the poor shopkeeper before he ended up on the floor of his own store.

Arwan straightened his coat. “Do you carry any knives or swords?”

The man pointed across the store. “I have a few old blades ’n’ such hangin’ over there. But a gun’ll do ya better, I think.”

Arwan followed Hawa to the corner. Her eyes glimmered with excitement. “Jackpot.”

***

Zanya

Zanya stood beside a small group of women. One of them stepped aside, a subtle invitation to join them—only after she’d scrutinized Zanya's appearance, and apparently came to the conclusion she was suitable company. The ladies clucked and giggled, whispering about the particulars of the princess’s engagement.

“I heard the queen ordered the two to marry, due to the princess having affections for the former royal secretary.”

“Mr. Ruland?”

“Yes, didn’t you know?”

Zanya had the urge to yawn, but she pushed it down and searched for Renato. He stood on the stairs, scanning the room.

The herald’s voice rose through the room once again. “
Mesdames
and
messieurs
. Please welcome Mr. James Bond.”

Zanya turned to see Jayden descending the stairs, wearing a navy suit with a silver vest, his hair combed back with oil. If Zanya didn’t know better, she would be fooled into thinking he was a real gentleman.

He strutted toward her and grabbed a flute of champagne from a waiter’s tray, then swallowed half of the contents with one gulp. Zanya giggled. He stopped in front of her.

“May I be so bold as to say that you are the loveliest creature I have ever laid eyes on?”

The group of ladies swooned.

“Mr.…Bond, was it?”

He grinned and finished the second half of his champagne in another gulp.

Renato shook his head, obviously displeased with the attention Jayden was attracting from the women.

An older man with graying sideburns approached Renato. Jayden took Zanya's hand and pulled her onto the dance floor. She glanced back at Renato and the man talking. “Who was that guy?”

“Probably just a pretty boy asking to dance with my date.”

A jolt of energy ran through Zanya's body. Her palms clammy, she fought the dizziness that washed over her. “The stone’s here. I can feel it.”

“Sarian must have just arrived.” They continued to dance, searching in every direction. “He’s here on the dance floor. If I can get you close enough, maybe you can grab the stone.”

“Where?”

“Two o’clock.”

Zanya spotted Sarian twirling with a young brunette in a plum-colored gown.

Renato circled the room. They passed Sarian several more times, but he flew by too quickly for her to sense anything. “I can’t find the stone like this.” But if she got closer to him, she may be able to get it—with the help of the masking spell. “I have an idea.” She closed her eyes and communicated to Renato.

Renato’s eyes narrowed, the creases of his mouth turning downward. He clearly didn’t like her plan, but they had no other choice. Renato couldn’t approach Sarian on his own. He would be recognized immediately. If she made enough eye contact, he’d get the hint.

Zanya stole a glance at Sarian every chance she had in the hopes of snagging his attention. Jayden swayed her side to side and spun her in a slow circle. All the while Zanya’s eyes were focused on Sarian like a ballerina doing fouettées.

It seemed her efforts had finally caught his attention. Zanya leaned in closer to Jayden. “Is he looking over here?”

“He put his drink down. There’s only one reason a guy does that.” Jayden gripped her hand tighter. “Shit. He’s coming over.”

“Let him.”

A moment later, Sarian reached them on the dance floor and addressed Jayden. “May I cut in?” He extended his hand to Zanya.

She curtsied to Jayden and took Sarian’s hand. Her heart stomped in her chest. She hoped Contessa didn’t give her a bum spell for the sake of being spiteful.

Sarian smiled and led Zanya in the dance. “I do not believe I have had the pleasure of making your acquaintance this fine evening.”

She swallowed, his gaze lying pleasantly over her face. It was apparent didn’t recognize her. Not yet at least. “We’ve had the pleasure now.”

Sarian’s pulled her closer. “It seems we have.”

She drew in a deep breath, the corset constricting her rib cage. “It’s a bit warm in here, isn’t it?”

He paused and gestured to an upholstered couch against the far wall. “Perhaps you should rest.”

Sarian blended in so well with the others. His polished appearance and exquisite mannerisms shielded anyone from seeing the darkness that fashioned his soul. He was like a shark lurking below its prey, hidden under the reflection of the water’s surface.

Zanya heard the stone’s whispers in her ears. It still recognized her, but it sounded different…confused.

“Perhaps I just need to get some air.”

“Then the veranda, perhaps?”

She nodded and extended her hand, inviting him to offer his arm. “If you’ll escort me.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

There were no glaives in the weapons shop. Arwan would have done best with a tool he was familiar with. He scanned the options until the glint of a double-edged axe caught his eye. He lifted the labrys off its stand and held it in his hand, testing the weight.

“Nice.” Hawa examined his choice, and then made her own. A mace. It was shaped like a king’s scepter, but with spikes reaching from the steel ball at the end. She would do some serious damage with that.

Arwan walked to the counter and placed two gold coins in front of the shopkeeper—more than what all of the weapons in his shop were worth. “Thanks.” He waited for Hawa while the shopkeeper bit on the coin, and then stared up at him with a widening smile.

They walked back outside. The cool night air soothed the heat pulsing through his body.

“Where to, chief?” Arwan eyed Hawa in a pair of leather pants and a tight sleeveless shirt. “You couldn’t have worn something a bit more inconspicuous?”

“Like what? That frou-frou gown? It was nice to wear for about an hour, but I can’t fight in that thing, and I don’t have anything else.”

They’d have to walk fast, sticking close to the buildings and traveling in alley ways as much as possible as not to be seen.

The night was getting colder, which meant it was getting later. If they wasted too much time walking there, he may miss his chance to face Sarian. “Go ahead. You can get there a lot faster than I can if you sprint.”

“I won’t be able to go inside, or even close to the entrance. They’ll have guards at every corner with the princess there.”

“So breeze past them. They won’t be able to stop you if you’re quick enough.”

“Do you have any idea how much it hurts to slam into someone when I’m sprinting? And balls are crowded and people are dancing. It’d be like Russian roulette.”

“Fine. Then go and try to get eyes on Zanya. If you see Renato or Jayden, get their attention if you can without anyone else seeing you. The hotel isn’t far. About two miles that way.” He pointed north.

“Are you sure? We don’t have time to screw up.”

“I checked the back of the invitation before Renato took it. Trust me. Grosvenor Hotel is that way. You can’t miss it.”

“Got it.”

Hawa was gone in the flash of an eye. If Arwan pushed hard, he could be there in ten minutes. He ran as fast as he could over uneven cobblestone streets and past the tall arches over doorways. Dodging around people as he passed, he stumbled over a risen stone in the street and caught himself, then pushed harder to regain his speed.

His heart pounded as he grew closer. Not because he ran, but because he was moments away from finally standing face to face with the man who led his mother to her death. He may not have killed her directly, but blood was on Sarian’s hands.

By the end of the night there would be blood on his hands, too.

More carriages cluttered the streets as he grew closer to the Grosvenor Hotel.

As he reached the top of a hill, the hotel came into sight. The gates were open as ball guests rode through them. If he could slip through without the guards noticing, he would be one step closer.

When he drew closer to the gates, he spotted two guards on either side, asking carriage drivers for their invitations before they were allowed to pass.

Jumping the wall was impossible without a grappling hook. Going around wasn’t an option, considering the wall surrounded the hotel and the courtyard. If he tried to simply walk through, he’d be stopped for sure. With a weapon, he would be arrested on the spot. A Victorian prison was not a place he wanted to end up, and there was no telling how it would effect the ripples of events if he bent time in this era—even for a moment.

He straightened his suit and ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back. He wiped sweat from his forehead, searching for a solution. He eyed each carriage driver, all of them dressed in a suit and top hat, perched on an elevated chair behind the main carriage.

Arwan tucked the handle of his ax under his coat and slowly fell to the back of the line. Once he’d reached the last carriage, he sneaked to the rear. He would have to do it quietly or the passengers would be alarmed, and his cover would be blown.

The carriage rolled to a stop and the horses huffed, swatting their tails in the air. Voices of the passengers were muted from inside the covered wagon. Arwan hung his ax on the railing of the coachman’s chair. He positioned himself behind the driver and leaped up, wrapped his arm around the driver’s throat, and dragged him to the dusty ground.

The driver struggled and kicked while Arwan choked him from the back—just enough to make him go unconscious. Once the man stopped struggling, Arwan snatched the invitation from inside the man’s inner coat pocket, and then picked the driver’s top hat off the ground and propped it on his head. He quickly rolled the man to the side of the road where he wouldn’t be seen. At least not until he woke up.

“Move up, coachman,” a voice called from inside the carriage.

Arwan spun to see the line moving. He quickly climbed the back of the carriage and took the reins. “Step.” He flicked his wrist and the horses trotted forward. The passengers didn’t seem to notice anything strange. Arwan exhaled, his stomach tight as they approached the gates. Just before he reached the guard, he remembered the ax hanging on the back of his chair. He rested it on his chair and sat on top of it just in time.

“Invitation.” The guard held out his hand, his bushy eyebrows nearly hiding his eyes. Arwan removed it from his inner coat pocket and handed it to the guard, who took the thick paper and examined it for a moment, then handed it back. “Move on.”

He flicked the reins and trotted forward, scanning the crowd for the others. They were probably already inside.

“Psst.”

Arwan glanced around, searching for the sound.

“Hey!”

He turned to see Hawa crouched, walking along side his carriage. “What are you doing here? Someone’s going to see you.”

She shrugged. “We have to go. I spotted Zanya and Sarian on the back veranda.”

***

Zanya

The outdoor entertainment area was desolate, everyone preferring the warmth and comfort of the ballroom in the frigid temperatures. Sarian positioned himself behind Zanya and placed his hands on her bare shoulders. The breeze pushed his bitter stench around her. “Such a beautiful young lady with pure intentions does not attend a ball, and watch a man from across the room while dancing with another. What exactly are your intentions with me, Camilla?”

Sarian didn’t waste any time, and she would use his impatience to her advantage.

Zanya hugged her body in an attempt to keep warm. “We all fight with our carnal nature, as it battles with our bodies to overpower our minds.” God, that was lame. She just hoped Sarian bought that load of crap.

He ran his fingers down her arm. She needed to get closer to him. That might require a little incentive. With a deep breath, she braced herself to get what she was about to ask for. “I’m rather cold. It would be ill-mannered of you to allow me to catch a chill.”

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her shoulder. Zanya cringed in disgust while his dry, hard lips nipped at her skin. She turned and slid her hands around his torso, searching for her stone.

The light in her chest glowed in response. She quickly snuffed it out.

Kissing her neck with more enthusiasm, he ran his teeth along her skin. She pressed her lips together in an attempt to not shout in revulsion. A second later, she gripped the stone tightly.

Sarian cradled his cheek against hers and brushed a curl over her shoulder. “I hadn’t a doubt in my mind you would come to your senses, my queen.”

Zanya gasped, and he clenched her wrist, staring at her with narrowed eyes. “Your light betrayed you, guardian.”

So close, she wouldn’t be scared away.

Not this time.

Not ever.

She tightened her fist and jerked her arm back. “Give me back my stone.”

He snarled. “You forget, it has two masters now.”

Renato and Jayden charged out from the ballroom. In Sarian’s brief moment of distraction, Zanya slipped out the hairpin Hawa had given her and severed the pouch from its strap. She leaped back, cradling the stone against her chest.

Sarian’s eyes grew dark. “That will be the last time you defy me, guardian. By the end of the night, you will be mine.”

“You’ll have to get through me first.” A double-headed hand axe gleamed in Arwan’s hand.

Hawa stepped out from the shadows. “Really?” She glanced at Arwan. “You couldn’t come up with anything better than that?”

“What are you doing here?” Renato said, sounding more horrified than relieved.

Hawa pointed at Arwan with the spiked club in her hand. “Prince Charming here said he had a dragon to slay.”

Arwan stepped forward. “I see you’ve gotten rid of your limp, old man.”

Sarian squared his stance. “I find it easier to dance in this era, before I needed my cane.”

“You don’t have anywhere to hide this time.”

The overwhelming, bitter scent hit Zanya in the face. She covered her nose with a fold of her gown.

Hawa stepped beside Zanya. “Get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you guys.”

“You have the stone. Get out of here, and we’ll meet up with you later.”

“I can’t leave.” She looked at Arwan. “Not without him.”

Sarian unbuttoned his coat and let it drop to the ground. “Why do we need to fight? After all, great minds think alike. Isn’t that what they say? You cannot continue to deny who you are.”

He stepped closer, his eyes focused intently on his target. “I am not like you.”

“You are exactly like me.”

With a warrior’s cry, Arwan charged toward him, his axe positioned to kill. He swung at Sarian, who dodged the blade and grabbed both ends of the weapon, pulling it against Arwan’s throat from behind.

“You have caused me more trouble than you are worth,” Sarian grunted, struggling to choke Arwan with his own weapon.

Zanya gasped and positioned her stone. She would have to use its power to protect him—protect them all. But it was cold, distant. “Don’t abandon me,” she whispered. “Please. I need your help.”

It didn’t respond.

Footsteps strode quick and light. Before Sarian could turn, the spikes of Hawa’s mace planted deep into his back. He spun and backhanded her across the face, throwing her across the veranda. She crashed into the marble pillar and her limbs went limp, knocked unconscious.

Arwan scooped up his weapon from the ground. “Why don’t you stop picking on women, you coward, and face me like a man.”

Sarian slowly rotated toward Arwan. “A man? But we are not men. We are something more than man could ever be.” He reached over his shoulder and dislodged Hawa’s weapon from his skin, tossing it to the ground.

The stench of Sarian’s blood shot up his nose. “We choose who we are.” Arwan traded the axe to his other hand.

“Your father won’t be very happy to hear I have killed his only son.”

Zanya paused.
His father?

Arwan stepped forward, his eyes gleaming.

Sarian readied his stance. “Then you insist on fighting me?”

Arwan grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Sarian’s muscles trembled as if he were having a seizure. Zanya watched in horror as a transformation took place.

His joints popped out of his sockets, contorting his figure. Sarian’s thrashing and shouts caught the attention of the crowd inside. People gathered in the doorway. Several women screamed and fainted.

Zanya stumbled back, clenching her stone. She heard Sarian’s bones crack and splinter. His clothes tore under the pressure of bulging muscles. His face deformed and pours took on a metallic shine, covering his body until he changed into something…inhuman. When it was done, a beast stood in the center of the marble patio, panting clouds of hot breath into the air.

Sarian produced a growl that fermented in his chest. With his lips curled back in a snarl, he bellowed an unearthly roar.

The partygoers screamed and shouted. “Save the princess!” a guard yelled from inside.

Zanya’s heart dropped. She stood frozen, gawking at Sarian’s animal-like body, his front feet armed with deadly claws. His back legs were short, with mounds of muscle packed under his wrinkled, graphite-colored skin.

“Come and fight.” Sarian’s voice projected at them, not from his mighty jaws, but from somewhere else.
His mind
, Zanya thought.
The mind of a demigod.

Arwan charged again, his speed unlike anything Zanya had ever seen. He moved fast, nimble, and sometimes, she thought, inhuman.