Ties That Bind: The Bellum Sisters 3 (paranormal erotic romance) (38 page)

“He was rummaging around your temple. I saved you from him.”

The voice came back, mocking with sarcasm. “Hardly necessary. No one gets in here unless I want them too.”

Alrik’s neck muscles spasmed at how tightly he clenched his shoulders but he resisted the urge to roll his head to ease it. “Then speak to me, old man.”

The voice, that of an old man scratchy with age and hoarse laughed again. The jolly sound only fueled Alrik’s anger.

“The fallen king is desperate, his heart filled with anger. I’ll tell you now that isn’t the answer.”

Alrik stopped his steps down the endless tunnel with no light in sight and spun his head around trying to track the seer’s voice. “I haven’t even asked a question yet, seer,” he spit out.

“Ah, but I know what you want to ask.”

“Then give me the answer!” Alrik shouted, his voice bouncing off the tunnel walls and echoing down the long corridor until he was surrounded by the shout until, after many seconds, the echo faded leaving him in heavy silence.

He heard a long sigh; it sounded laden with disappointment. “Very well,” the voice said.

The walls around him shimmered and bubbled like looking through the clear water of a waterfall as it fell to earth.  Alrik turned right and saw the black tunnel wall dissipate completely to reveal a large room complete with a large fireplace burning brightly, a long wooden table covered in silver dishware and golden goblets, and large iron rods around the room holding thick waxy candles flickering light.

Before the fireplace sat an old man sitting on an deep orange rug woven with magical symbols and words. The wall disappeared completely and Alrik stepped into the room. The old seer sat with his ankles crossed and knees pointing out. His long dark hair was pulled high atop his head in a curl and he wore a blue and red robe that shimmered in the firelight.

Alrik started for the old seer.

The seer lifted his head from the floor then his eyes met Alrik. Alrik froze at the sight of those eyes. He’d never seen anything like it. Black eyes with a brilliant blue center. He’d seen many demons in his life of varying colored skin, hair, and eyes, but never anything like this. Though, the rest of the seer did look very human. Dark brown skin, dark hair, but those eyes. They were something different.

“So you’ve found me, fallen king Alrik.”

“Not easily.” Much blood had been shed and even more time spent trying to find the seer. The only one capable of helping him on his quest.

“Nothing worth doing is ever easy.”

“Spare me the proverbial talk, seer.”

The seer looked up towards the ceiling, his expression dreamy with thought. “I must correct myself. Nothing
important
worth doing is ever easy. Seeing as how much you need me and my guidance, and how important that will change things for you, I’d say it’s going to be very important for you.”

“Enough of the bullshit, seer. You know what I’m here to ask.”

The seer looked back at Alrik and smiled, his white teeth dazzling against his dark skin. “Shall you ask anyway? People like that. They don’t enjoy knowing that I already know what they’re going to ask. I believe it makes them feel more comfortable.”

“Where is my mother?”

The seer jumped up to a stand, surprising Alrik. The seer was guessed to be older than the kingdom of X itself and yet he looked no older than himself. Maybe he was part demon; they aged much slower than some species of earth. Still smiling, the seer walked to a cupboard hanging on the stone wall and grabbed something off the shelf. With a few more movements, the seer walked to the candle stand in the corner of the room, and with a smoke pressed between his lips, breathed deeply at the candle spark. The smoke’s end lit brightly as he inhaled.

“Smoke?” the seer asked without glancing at him.

“No,” Alrik answered, his patience waning fast. “Answer my question, seer.”

The seer pulled the smoke from between his lips and stared at the tip before turning back around and casually pulling from the smoking tip. The scent of burning herbs reached Alrik’s nostrils, the odor not unpleasant but close to it.

“You’re asking the wrong question, fallen king.”

Alrik squeezed his sword then deposited it back in the scabbard across his back. “Stop calling me that.”

The seer’s dark eyebrows flew up in surprise. Alrik wasn’t fooled. The seer wasn’t surprised by anything. “What, fallen king? You are fallen, aren’t you?”

Alrik’s blood pumped hard with the need to lash out. The need to tear across the small space and wrap his hand around the old seer’s throat and squeeze--squeeze until his eyes rolled into the back of his head and his wheezing breaths stopped. Instead, he released a strangled breath and bared his teeth.

“Where is my mother?”

“Ah, yes, the fallen queen,” the seer said, still smiling, still puffing away at his smoke. “That’s not the right question to ask. Try another, fallen king.”

“How can I find my mother?”

The seer rocked his head side to side as if contemplating.

“You are very close to death right now, I’d answer if I were you,” Alrik sneered.

The seer tossed his head back and laughed a hoarse, wheezing sound. When he looked back at Alrik, his grin was even broader, his dark eyes bright with amusement. “You can’t kill me, fallen king.”

“Want to bet on that, seer?”

The seer spread his arms out wide until his body formed a T. “You need me.”

Alrik looked away; it was either that or risk tearing apart the seer limb by limb. God, just the thought of it sent a rush of pleasure through him. The howl of his screams would fuel him better than any food, the sight of his spurting blood like a balm to his heart.

“Answer the question,” he said slowly, his eyes closing as he enjoyed the mental image of killing the seer with his bare hands.

Silence met him. Alrik pushed back the dark thoughts and opened his eyes to find the seer watching him, no longer smiling.

“How you can find her or where you can find her is not important and you already know the answer.”

“All that I know, seer, is that she’s in the rift.”

The seer shrugged a slender shoulder.

“I’m sure you know how big the rift is, seer.”

“She’s here. You’ll find her eventually. You already know that. You don’t need me for that.”

Alrik frowned. “Then why the fuck else am I here?”

Again, the seer smiled. “Because you don’t know how to kill her.”

Alrik’s body stilled, each muscle becoming tense. “I’ll slice her head off with my blade and if that doesn’t work, I’ll turn to magic as she has.”

The seer laughed then sat back down on the rug at the fire, his smoke leaving a trail of smoke behind him. “But you can’t kill her.”

“What do you mean I can’t kill her?” he asked slowly. That’s all he’d thought about, all he’d planned. For
years
he’d been searching for her, always either one step behind or completely off her trail through some treachery. He was done. This would end soon. He’d make sure of it.

The seer looked him up and down. “Your curse won’t let you. The queen isn’t stupid. When she cursed you, she made sure that if you ever learnt of her deceit, you couldn’t kill her, since surely, you’d want to.”

‘Want’ was such a lame word. He didn’t want to kill his mother, he needed to. He needed to as much as needed air to live.

“How do I break the curse upon me?”

“By killing her, of course.”

Alrik’s fists clenched until his blunt nails stabbed into his skin. He felt the skin give and blood bead. “But you said I can’t kill her.”

“No, you can’t.”

Alrik nearly saw red. “Then how do I kill her?”

“It’s not a how so much as who. See, you’re not asking the right questions.”

Alrik blinked, the only sign he gave to show the shock in his body. “Who can kill her?” The thought of anyone else ever delivering the killing blow to his mother had never, not even once, crossed his mind.

The seer laughed and rubbed his hands together. “The most unlikely person, naturally. A woman, a human.”

Alrik took a hard step forward and pointed a threatening finger at the seer. “Stop messing with me, seer. A human, let alone a woman, could never kill my mother and well you know it.”

“But this human is a witch.” His eyes turned into a faraway look, unfocused and hazy. “Though there is a bit of a problem with that.”

As if this wasn’t a problem already. “And what’s that?”

The seer didn’t respond for several moments, his eyes lost in thought. Finally, the haze left him and he tossed the end of his smoke into the burning fire. “She hasn’t used her magic in a very long time. She shuns it.”

Alrik shook his head. “This is ridiculous. You mean to tell me that the only way to kill my mother and lift the curse from me is through a human witch who doesn’t even practice her skill.”

“Precisely!” the seer said merrily with a smile.

Alrik looked away, lost in his own thoughts. “You’re certain she is the one?”

“Oh yes.”

A human witch. If she could kill his mother then she must be very powerful indeed. The human aspect would be a downside. That’d mean he’d have to go to the surface to get her and she’d have a harder time adjusting to the environment in the rift. But it could work. However, the fact that she doesn’t practice her own magic would have to be remedied quickly. He needed her power at its fullest for when they reached the queen.

“What is her name?”

The seer’s lips lifted into another smile. “Abbigail Krenshaw.”

Alrik frowned. “That’s a strange name.”

“Maybe to her your name is strange.”

“Maybe so. How do I find her?”

The seer shrugged but a smart glimmer in his eyes said he did know. But he stayed silent.

God, the surface. He hadn’t been there...in ages. Since before the Great War and even then he preferred his richer, brighter homeland than the dull colors of the earthen-realm.

“Fine.” Alrik turned without a goodbye and headed back towards the entrance. He’d just stepped foot onto the dark path when the seer spoke.

“She’ll die in the process.”

Alrik looked over his shoulder at the seer. “Then so be it.”

The seer’s merry laughter echoed around him as he stalked away, his next quest on his mind.

Chapter Three

Abbigail stretched her tight muscles as she got out of the car. The sun was entirely too bright today as if it was trying to sear her eyeballs. That’s what she got. It wasn’t the sun’s fault she hadn’t been sleeping well. She’d never been a great sleeper. she was one who woke at the slightest of noises. Her mother said she was paranoid. Whatever she was, she had a hard time sleeping and it didn’t help that she lived alone. At least with a roommate she felt some added comfort and could sleep mildly better.

Abby pinched her eyes nearly closed to hide the brutal sunlight and grabbed her mail from the mailbox. She pulled out a stack of mail, flipping through the white envelopes as she strode back towards the house.

“Bill, bill, wrong address, junk, junk, more junk...” she muttered. She paused as her gaze landed on the last envelope. The envelope was tinted yellow, the paper thick and scratchy like parchment. It certainly didn’t look like any kind of envelope she’d ever gotten before. Then again, the companies that sent out junk mail did seem to be getting more creative ways to open their trash mail.

In tall black cursive letters on the front read:
To Abbigail Krenshaw
, then listed her address below in the same unique scrawl that looked like something from an older era. No return address. Just a stamp. She flipped the envelope over and her brow drew down in confusion. A black seal covered the vee-closing of the envelope.

Apparently this was no envelope you licked closed. Certainly not something you’d see from a credit card company trying to get you to apply. She fingered the material and touched the seal feeling the waxy material under her fingertip. She couldn’t make out the seal. It just looked like something official. It had two poles curving left and right on the outside with a regal bird’s head in the middle. Peering closer, she corrected herself. Swords, not poles. She could just make out the handles and the edge of a blade if she looked hard enough but not any details of the bird’s head.

“What the...” she said under her breath.

Just to make sure, she flipped the strange envelope back over and ensured that it was indeed her name on the letter. Yup, sure was. A strange feeling filled her, starting in her gut and working up to the back of her neck until the little hairs there stood on end.

She had to sit down for this. She headed back to the house and plopped down on her sofa. Dropping the rest of the mail on her chipped coffee table, she propped her feet up on it and leaned back to inspect the letter.

She hadn’t noticed it before. Had been taking in too many other things on the letter, the handwriting, the seal, but now she noticed it. The worn look to it. As if it’d been crumbled again and again or passed between many hands. Where the envelope should be smooth and firm the paper was wrinkled and weak, one bottom corner curved up from being bent.