The Reluctant Amazon (Alliance of the Amazons) (26 page)

Now she needed to save Artair from the destiny her intuition
was screaming would be his fate, a fate he’d share with Sparks.
Death.

Well, fuck that!

“Helen, I’m getting sick of your stupid little games.” Rebecca
drew the string back and aimed at another priestess who dared step forward.
“Honey, I sure wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

The girl’s face blanched, and she froze where she stood.

“Good girl. Now get your pretty little ass back there before I
drill this arrow through your chest.”

The priestess obeyed.

“My games?” Helen asked, the annoyance plain in her voice. “I
play no
games
here, Rebecca. I simply seek my
birthright.”

“Then quit messing around and just tell me who in the hell our
mother is. Maybe then I’ll understand why you’ve gone insane.”

The ground trembled, but Rebecca kept her footing on the
boulder.
A tell.
Just like poker. Helen had given
her a tell. Rebecca smiled over the small victory.

Helen narrowed her eyes. “I’m
not
insane. I’m a goddess. Can’t you feel how I can make Earth do my bidding?”

“How stupid do you think I am?” Rebecca’s quake echoed Helen’s.
“Just a trick. An Amazon trick. You want to go to dueling greenery now? Are your
vines stronger than mine? God, you’re nothing but talk.”

Helen’s eyes flashed red again. “I’ll show you a trick no
Amazon could perform, a trick worthy of a goddess.”

The blade suddenly jumped off the ground and took to the air
where it floated, twirling in place like a bottle spun at a party in the old
kissing game. Then it stopped as it chose Artair, pointing at his chest.

“You get the privilege of ascending first, Rebecca. Now it’s
time for the sacrifice of one who loves you.”

“No!” Sparks’s shout echoed through the cave.

A sudden flash of fire and she was free. She threw herself in
front of Artair before Rebecca could jump from her perch. The knife embedded
itself between Sparks’s breasts. She fell to the floor of the cave with a
sickening thud.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Artair hurried to Sparks and dropped to his knees next
to her. “Ah, lass. What have you done?”

“Get that damned knife out of me,” Sparks growled. “Get it
out!”

Artair pulled it from her chest and flung it away. The sound of
metal striking rock echoed through the cave. He ripped a piece from his plaid
and pressed it to the wound.

Sparks coughed, the sound wheezing and labored. Keeping an eye
on Helen, Rebecca quickly worked her way down the boulders. She knelt next to
Sparks, opposite Artair. With a weak smile, she reached out to hold the hand
Sparks offered. “You’re gonna be fine, Sparks. We’ll get some help. We’ll find
Beagan and Dolan. We’ll get Sarita here. We’ll—”

Sparks coughed again. “I’m dying, Rebecca. You know it. I know
it. The Celt here knows it. Funny. It doesn’t even hurt much. It just
feels…cold.”

Rebecca glanced toward Helen. The woman was surrounded by her
priestesses, savoring her victory. She would kill her—Helen wouldn’t see the
sunrise. Turning back to her mentor, she opened her mouth to offer some comfort
that would be inane.

Sparks waved her other hand in dismissal. “Don’t even try.
Death always came with the territory. Artair?” she asked, turning her head to
face her Sentinel.

“Aye?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You saved my life, lass.”

Sparks smiled at that. “I did good, didn’t I? Maybe it’ll make
up for fucking stuff up royal.”

“’Tis nae the time—”

“’Tis,”
she interrupted with a weak
smile. “I was wrong. I was so afraid of losing Helen that I didn’t place my
trust where it belonged—with you. I went to Freyjr instead. I didn’t know it was
Helen. I swear. Not until Jin took Megan. But by then I was so blinded by the
Seior, so blinded by Helen. She’s my sister. I trusted her when she told me she
could save the Amazons. That she could keep you safe too. But she used me…” She
coughed. A small dribble of frothy blood trickled from the corner of her
mouth.

Rebecca squeezed Sparks’s hand, trying not to gape at the dark
blood oozing through Artair’s fingers as he continued to apply pressure to the
wound.

“The magicks made all of her words make perfect sense. I didn’t
understand what she really wanted to do. She told me you only cared about the
newbies, not my sisters. Forgive me, Artair. I was blinded by the Seior.”

“All’s forgiven, my friend.” He brushed her white hair from her
forehead before placing a kiss there.

“Friend. You always figured I was just your friend. You never
knew, did you?” Sparks’s voice had fallen to a harsh whisper.

“What, sweeting? What didn’t I know?”

“Sweeting.” A sad smile crossed her lips. “You’ve no idea how
long I’ve wanted to hear you call me that.”

Rebecca blinked back tears. She’d known how Sparks felt about
Artair. She’d assumed they’d come to terms with it a long, long time ago, that
they had decided to just be friends. There was no jealousy, only sadness that
her friend was dying. If Sparks didn’t have such a strong grasp of her hand,
Rebecca would have retreated to give them these last few moments alone. She
tried to ease away, but Sparks clenched it harder.

“Don’t go, Rebecca. Please. I know you knew, and you never used
it against me. Please stay with me until…”

Rebecca nodded while wanting to scream her anguish. Her mentor,
her friend, her sister was dying, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop
it.

“I love ye, Artair MacKay.” A wheeze interrupted her faux
brogue. “I’ve loved ye since ye came for me so very long ago. From the moment I
saw ye in yer fine plaid, standing there like some conquering hero.”

Artair’s pain was so alive, it surrounded him like an aura. His
face was drawn, the anguish clear in his green eyes. He released a shuddering
sigh.

He hadn’t known.

Artair took Sparks’s hand and kissed the back of it. “I love
you too. You’ve brought me nothing but pride for having been with you for so
many years, for having fought at your side. For all your rough edges and
protests, ye are a true lady.”

Sparks locked eyes with Rebecca. “Take care of her, Celt. She
loves you, just as much as you love her. You two were meant to be together. Take
care of each other.” Her grip relaxed. One deep, agonized breath and Sparks
closed her eyes, slipping away from this world.

Artair pulled his bloodstained hand back and stared at it. Then
he straightened his shoulders and wiped his hand on his plaid. “We will avenge
ye, lass.”

Blind rage exploded inside Rebecca, and the tremor she produced
should have knocked every one of the priestesses to the ground. Yet they weren’t
even jostled. Helen had endowed them with magical protection.

Rebecca laid Sparks’s limp hand on her chest and rose to her
feet. “I’ll kill you for this,” she vowed as she turned to face Helen. “You’re a
dead woman walking.”

Helen was too occupied to listen to any threat. Showered in
vivid white light, her gown billowed while winds whipped around her, raising her
off the ground as she slowly spun. She laughed, a loud, haunting sound that
echoed through the cave. The winds slowly died. She descended before settling
gently back on her bare feet.

Her gaze caught Rebecca’s, and a cocky smile formed on her
lips.

Rebecca narrowed her eyes—Helen felt no guilt for Sparks’s
death. “Did you hear me, you heinous bitch? You’re
dead.
”

“You’re wrong,” Helen replied in that cool, calm voice that
dripped like venom from her pink lips. “Thanks to Sparks’s sacrifice, I’ve
ascended. I’m a goddess.”

“Goddess. Amazon. Creature from Hell. Call yourself whatever
you want, it’s all the same to me. You’re dead.”
My whole
quiver of arrows is going to be sticking out of your chest.

“Do you know who our mother is, Rebecca?” Helen asked.

“I don’t give a shit if our mother is the Virgin Mary. I’m
going to kill you.”

“Close, but not quite the Virgin Mary. Artair?” Helen’s gaze
followed him as he rose to stand beside Rebecca. “Did you teach her about
Gaia?”

His shocked expression raised Rebecca’s radar another notch.
The quake subsided and she plotted the best way to reach Helen without risking
harm to Artair or the priestesses.
Impossible.
But
she had to find a way.

The rocks called to her, so she moved slowly back to the
boulders, hoping to get a good vantage point from which to shoot Helen.

Hate flowed through Rebecca with the intensity of an electric
charge. She shivered with her anger.

Sparks was dead. Trishna was dead. Maria was dead. And Helen
had killed them all as if she’d committed the murders with her own hand.

The rage took total control.

“You can’t be of Gaia,” Artair scoffed, his eyes staring at
Helen in pure disbelief. “’Tis nonsense you’re spilling. Gaia gave birth to the
first gods on this world. If you were—” He shook his head. “Nay. It cannot be.
You cannot be her daughter.”

“Oh, but I
am.
Not only that, but
so is Rebecca. Ask Rhiannon. She takes Gaia’s daughters and hides them in plain
sight because the Ancients would fear their potential to dethrone them. We’re
both born of Gaia—we’re equals to gods and Titans. Greater even than the
goddesses who created the Amazons.”

Helen’s gaze followed Rebecca’s movements up the boulders.
“Rebecca, our mother’s the creator of the universe itself. We’re daughters of
Gaia. While the rest of the Amazons are nothing more than products of
fornication between their priests and priestesses during some feast or another,
Earth’s born of Mother Earth herself.”

Artair shook his head. “Who has filled your head with such
nonsense?”

“It’s not nonsense, you ignorant fool! I uncovered it in my
research. I discovered it myself. My reading paid off—in spades. I’m a goddess,
born an equal to those of any culture. Equal to Rhiannon.
Greater
than Rhiannon! She’s tried to keep me down for far too long.
I won’t be denied.”

Damn, damn, damn.
If she could only
distract Helen for a few minutes, Artair could lead the priestesses out of the
cave. But would he understand what she wanted him to do? Would he seize the
opportunity? And how was she going to get to the baby?

She had no choice but to try.

Following the rise of the rocks and drawing closer to Helen,
Rebecca resorted to her distraction tactic again. It seemed like a good idea,
considering Helen seemed to have no problem venturing off into soliloquies.
“Okay, so I’m a goddess. Yippee for me. Tell me what you think we can do if we
join forces.”

“Rule the world. We need to show humanity there are better ways
to live than waging war and destroying the gifts of the Earth. Those who won’t
follow us will die. We can create Utopia, Rebecca. The two of us can save this
planet.”

“Oh, I see. We’re just the people to show them how, are we?”
Rebecca gave a disdainful laugh and shook her head. “Most of the time, I can’t
handle my own life. And you want me to take care of the world?”

Helen narrowed her now black eyes. “Can you think of any better
suited? We’re the children of Mother Earth herself. Who better to rule? Who
better to guard the Earth and her inhabitants? Who better to protect the
offerings our planet bestows?”

“Here’s a novel idea… How about humans solve their own problems
and deal with their own issues? Who are we to tell people how to live?”
A few more steps, and I’ve got her.
A new goddess
would be destroyed with arrows blessed by another, stronger goddess.

“Humanity’s ruined the gifts of the Earth. People can’t be
trusted anymore. They prey on each other like hunters, killing for sport. They
poison the water and air. Children go hungry every day. They’ve squandered the
banquet set before them. We’ll make sure they act with more care.”

“You’re nothing but a damn tree-hugging hippie.” Rebecca
glanced back at Artair, hardly hearing the words falling from Helen’s mouth. But
he wasn’t moving to help the priestesses leave. No, the priestesses were slowly
surrounding him. “Shit,” she whispered, grabbing an arrow from her quiver. With
one quick shot, she buried the missile in the floor next to the teen who’d drawn
closest to Artair.

Why hadn’t she been watching him, protecting him? She’d
concentrated so hard on her hatred of Helen, she hadn’t paid attention to the
damn priestesses. Artair held his sword ready, but he wouldn’t use it on the
girls unless he had no choice. Even then, she wasn’t sure he could hurt any of
them.

Grabbing another arrow, she aimed it at the closest priestess.
“Get the hell away from him!”

Dozens of eyes looked up to where she stood on the tallest
stone. They halted their steps toward Artair, but it wouldn’t be long before
they made more threatening moves toward him.

“Ah, but Rebecca… Artair’s fate’s predestined. He’s
your
sacrifice.” Helen nodded at the girls, and they
began to take cautious steps toward Artair.

“Don’t make me kill them, Helen!” Artair shouted, holding his
sword at ready and staring at the priestesses. “I don’t want to kill them.”

The priestesses moved closer.

“Stop!” Rebecca shouted, but the girls ignored her. She shifted
her aim and shot at Helen, hoping to catch her by surprise. The arrow sailed in
a perfect flight until, just a few feet short of its goal, it stopped as if it
had pierced an invisible target.

Helen laughed and twirled her finger. The arrow followed her
gesture. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she sent it racing toward Artair.

He knocked the arrow down with his sword.

Rebecca’s heart had leaped to her throat, and she forced her
panic down. He turned to glance up at her, and a cocky smile formed on his
lips.

“Intereo pro suus!”
Helen’s shout
roared in Rebecca’s ears. “Die for her!”

The sound of metal scraping against rock rang. She’d forgotten
the dagger. The glint of the torchlight caught her eye a moment before the
bloody knife sailed past her. “Artair!” She could do nothing to help him, just
as she could do nothing to save Sparks.

“Death,”
a voice whispered in her
ear. “
Death stalks this place.”

The dagger’s hilt was all she could see. The jewels glistened
in uneven winks that made her dizzy and kept her from focusing on what was truly
in front of her eyes. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

Blood seeped from Artair’s chest, soaking into a sickening dark
stain against his white shirt and plaid. His eyes found hers, full of pain and
astonishment, before he sank to his knees and slumped to his side like child’s
discarded toy.

Rebecca dropped her bow. It clattered down the stones. She
jumped from the boulder, not caring if the fall killed her. Rolling with the
impact, she somehow got to her feet. Pushing her way through the priestesses who
gawked at Artair, she choked on her grief. Suddenly she was kneeling at his
side, gasping. Struggling to turn him to his back, her heavy breaths were the
only sounds she could hear over the echo of her hammering heartbeat. “No. No.
Artair. Oh, God, no.”

Her hands trembled over the knife before plucking it from his
chest and flinging it out of her sight. She leaned down and put her lips to his,
wanting to breathe life back into him, wanting none of this to be real. But no
warm breaths slipped from his lips to brush against hers. She touched her
fingertips to his neck, wanting to feel the pulse of his lifeblood beat against
them. But no rhythm could be found. There would be no goodbye, no moment to
share all she felt for him, no chance to tell him what he meant to her.

Her mournful scream echoed through the cave.

Artair MacKay was dead.