Red Mortal (40 page)

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Authors: Deidre Knight

Tags: #Man-woman relationships, #Goddesses, #Gods, #Paranormal, #Delphian oracle, #Fiction, #Romance, #Paranormal romance stories, #Immortalism, #Daphne (Greek deity), #General, #Leonidas, #Contemporary

BOOK: Red Mortal
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“What kind of wings?” she persisted. “Lovely ones?”
He swung a red-eyed gaze right on her. “What do you think?” he snarled.
She smiled at him, seemingly unaware of the menace in his tone and behavior. As she always was. “I read about them the other night in one of Mace’s books, but . . .” She got a faraway expression in her eyes. “I can see them in my mind!” she exclaimed, both hands flying to her chest. “Oh, wow. Wow. You were . . .” She closed her eyes, swaying. “I have a vision of exactly what you were. You were . . . oh, wow!”
“I was
what
?” he barked.
Her pale eyes flew open, filled with wonder. “The most handsome, beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on. You were
breathtaking.
With all that I’ve seen about who you were . . . I never saw your wings. Until now.”
Her words lanced his soul, pierced his spirit; destroyed him, birthed him.
“You can be that man again, Sable,” she whispered, reaching a gentle hand to his bare abdomen, such an intimate touch. “I’ve seen it, like I’ve told you before.”
For one long moment, he believed; she did that to him, brought out hope, cracked open a sliver of his dead humanity. But then he glanced down at her palm, caught a glimpse of their fingers twining together—a half demon and a mortal, a deadly match. A tragic one, for Sophie.
“Leave with him,” he hissed. “Out of my sight. I won’t go with you, and I won’t help your king.”
 
Daphne refused to accept that Sable wouldn’t help. If Leo needed him, she was bound and determined that the demon would go with them to Cornwall. Whatever was holding him back, it had to be a good reason, especially for him to disappoint Sophie like this.
She’d used her Oracle gifts, and sensed that he was lurking around Forsyth Park. She found him staring morosely at the giant fountain, just watching the water shoot in the endless arcs.
“Unfortunately, I know what you’re feeling all too well,” she told him. He jerked a gaze in her direction, then went back to the listless staring act.
“She hates me now, doesn’t she? I don’t blame her,” he said gloomily.
“Of course not. She loves you, Sable. Even you know that—particularly you.”
“Why’d she have to go with him? Ajax of all people.” He shook his head. “It brought out the rage in me, that part that I’m trying to learn how to control. The part that’s the most unpredictable.”
She reached and touched his arm, gently. “Sable, it’s okay. You’re in a very difficult transition, one that Sophie understands.”
He turned anguished eyes on her. “Does she? I’m not so sure she has any idea of the torment I’m in.” With a moan, he whispered, “Neither does Leonidas. I’m not the best man for him to count on right now.”
“Maybe you’re right. You tell me.”
Again, he turned toward her and there was sheer agony in his light blue eyes.
“It must be hard for you, this in-between place. You can’t find home in the cemeteries, can’t stomach the smell of sulfur and ash.” She faced the fountain beside him. “Yes, you’re in a very vulnerable position right now. The sort a bloodthirsty god like Ares might try to manipulate. We can’t leave you behind.”
He glanced at her and the anguish in his eyes grew more intense.
“Or . . . perhaps that’s exactly what we should do. You tell me.”
“He’s been using me,” he said dully. “To keep Sophie from healing Leonidas . . . he promised me that if I could keep her from helping the king, he’d return me to my human form.” He stomped a hoof. “That’s the true reason I won’t go to Cornwall; I don’t trust myself not to manipulate her, to try and block her from healing the king. Of course, now with Ari back . . .”
His unspoken words explained so much. Too much, really, as she considered Ari and Nikos’s recent capture and how Sable had led them into that trap.
“Ares would never have been true to his word, you know,” she told him sadly. “Wouldn’t lift this curse off of you, even if you fulfilled your end of things. My brother’s cruelty knows no bounds, and for some reason, he takes perverse pleasure in keeping you . . .”
“Debased. Reviled. Bestial.”
“No, no, that’s not what I was going to say.” She stared at him significantly. “My brother revels in making you believe that you are trapped by his hand. A slave to how he changed you, when, I am certain . . . there must be some way out from under your curse.”
He blinked at her. “Do you really believe that?”
She nodded vigorously. “You keep some powerful company, you know.” She thought of Apollo and his bighearted goodness. Among them all, wasn’t there some way to help Sable? There had to be.
“But you’ve got to tell Sophie what you were doing, otherwise the lie will burrow between you . . . and she’ll eventually learn the facts. As tenderhearted as she is, so dear and gentle, finding out about that deception would break her heart. It could easily destroy what’s begun between you.”
Sable hung his head. “How do I even start to make things right?”
She slid an arm about him, trying to give him at least a bit of a hug. “Come with me. Now. To Cornwall. Serve Leo, help us all. That’s the only thing you can do, Sable.”
He stared into the fountain for a long, silent moment, then simply nodded his head.
“And now,” she said, “let me tell you that we won’t be going alone.”
“The demon army,” he muttered.
“You already know?”
Sable gave her an odd look, one filled with a strange kind of pride. “Leonidas asked me himself. For the help.” He laughed. “I can’t promise my troops will be the brightest darklings in the universe, but . . . give me a few hours.”
Chapter 31
 
L
eo paced the great hall, feeling more energized than he had in hours. The sight of his warriors and friends, gathered here at his old estate, knowing they had rallied behind his battle plan, filled him with a renewed sense of purpose. They were going to succeed; he felt it in his bones.
Sophie came bounding up to him, then stopped and stared, a slight gleam in her eyes. Oh, what she must be thinking, he thought, but she surprised him completely. “So, Mr. Bond,” she asked with a sweet smile, “shaken not stirred?”
He grinned back at her, and she flung her small arms about him. “I think you look fabulous,” she whispered in his ear. “I’ve always had a secret crush on you anyway.”
“Sophie!” he blurted, but she only hugged him harder.
Then just as quickly, she released him. “Just wait till Daphne sees you, sir.”
He glanced around self-consciously as the young mortal wandered off to talk to Shay, but he took cheer in her kind words. Daphne was yet to arrive—she’d yet to see him since their lovemaking. Perhaps, somehow, she might react the same way as Sophie had just done?
He had his answer when the massive wooden doors opened, and the love of his life stood there, backlit by the midafternoon light. She had finally arrived. His heart was in his throat, as she quietly closed the door behind her. The others gave them a wide berth, thank the gods, and she slowly walked closer.
“I should be very, very angry, you know,” she said, her eyes locked with his.
Neither of them looked away from the other. “So you should,” he agreed softly.
She walked even closer, seductively beautiful in her flowing Oracle’s gown. “In fact, I should be downright furious.”
Her gaze flitted across his transformed face, and he swallowed hard, waiting for a reaction. “Probably very much so,” he said as she neared even closer.
“But I want to believe that you left me for a good reason.” She paused, locking eyes with him. “You said it was to protect me.”
“It was.”
She shook her head, anger flashing in her eyes. “How could leaving me ever be for my protection?”
Leo turned his face from her, wincing as he closed his eyes. “I am too old and too fallen . . . to be right for you.” The admission was spoken through gritted teeth, whispered at great price.
She gaped up at him. “What?”
He wouldn’t open his eyes. “All this blood on my hands. The killing, the slaughter. Thousands, Daphne. Thousands of lives. Demons, humans. And here you stand.” He slowly turned and glanced down at her. “Offering me everything. Your soul, your sweetness. Your demigoddess power. How can we be together? My darkness could corrupt you.”
In one shocking moment, one that sang with dark clarity, she realized the truth. “This is why you’ve been pushing me away? Because you think . . . you think I’m too pure for you?”
He moved a few steps across the room, putting his back to her. “I’m not good enough. I can’t possibly be. I’m a mortal and you’re born of Olympus. I’m a killer and a warrior . . . you bring light and love and power into the world. I am soiled beyond redemption, even if we can save my life.”
She followed after him, unable to believe what she was hearing. “Are you telling me, that all this time . . . you’ve believed I’m too good for you?”
He kept his back to her. “I am but a man, and you’re the daughter of Zeus! You’re forever eighteen, and I am . . . who knows now. But too old for you.”
“And so you left me with nothing but a ‘Dear Oracle’ letter? I’d never thought you would run from a fight.”
That accusation, finally, had him turning to face her. His swarthy face grew flushed with emotion. In a low, growling voice, he said, “You
know
that’s not true.”
“Really? You left me . . . twice.”
He raked frenetic hands over his curls, clasping the top of his head in surrender. “I love you,” he nearly moaned. “I love you and it’s all I could think of . . . my need to keep you from enduring my fate with me. I have to protect you. It’s the only reason, ever, that I would leave you, Daphne.”
“Then hear this,” she said, walking right up to him. “If you want to protect me? Stay. No more trying to decide what’s best for me when I already know—it’s having you in my life, my arms. For whatever time is given us, we must be
together
. Do you understand? Together!”
Leo didn’t reply; his answer was to sweep her into his arms, lifting her right off her feet. He buried his face against her cheek. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry, love. I . . . won’t go. If you’re sure. We’ll be together, from now on.”
They held each other, hands skimming each other’s bodies, breaths held and released as one. Every separation that had been forming between them dissolved, and they melded. None of their misunderstandings or doubts or fears mattered now—they vanished in the warmth of simply holding each other. After a long moment, Leo released her, slowly lowering her to her feet. When he did, she saw how bright his dark eyes had become. He didn’t cry, but the tears shimmered there nonetheless.
Daphne realized then that her own cheeks were damp. She swiped at the tears. “I really should be livid, you know? For almost depriving me of this.” She gestured at his body, his face, then broke into a huge grin. “Good sweet Elysium, Leo! You’re even hotter than you’ve ever been! Which, quite frankly, I never imagined possible.”
He growled, glancing about to ensure they weren’t being observed. “You shouldn’t talk like that in public, my lady. Dangerous. Very much so.”
She reached up, observers be damned, and pulled him down for a long, intense, heated kiss. At last she half released him, although she still held his linen shirt bunched within her hands. “I want to take you out on the moors,” she whispered seductively. “We had a date recently, in a meadow. I still want to fulfill that plan.”
He swallowed hard. “Where’s . . . Sable? I should . . . there’s work . . .”
She waved him off, seizing hold of his hand. “Sable’s outside, and he’s brought some friends. It took a bit of work on my part, getting them teleported past the wards, but . . . well, you asked for demons, and it’s demons you’ve got, my king. But first? You’re all mine, my lord.”
 
Sable trotted back and forth, sizing up his gathered demons. Their stench wafted on the winds of the moors, taking what was an otherwise fresh and brisk scent and polluting it. But the crew—from Mirapish and Krathsadon to a motley assortment of minor minions—had at least shown up. You couldn’t exactly count on demons to do what they promised; oftentimes they lied just for the petty fun of it. So to have a good twenty-five or so darklings, and even an old Djinn compatriot, Cishpi, was a fairly good showing in Sable’s mind.
Still, despite Sable having persuaded them to join this mutinous cause, some still bleated and complained. Questions of, “Why should we care about Ares?” and “What’s in it for me?” rang out on the misty hillside.
Sable faced them, head high, shoulders back. He knew he cut a noble figure as a centaur—the fact that he resented the form had never been about whether he was striking or not. Even scarred and ruined as he’d been until recently, he’d never doubted that the stallion part of his anatomy was quite stunning. Now, cast into makeshift role of commanding officer, he strove to appear even more impressive. As he sized up the demons, he stepped high with every clomp of his hooves.

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