Illusion (22 page)

“Exile in the wastelands.”

She raised a brow. “And how is that worse than death, exactly?”

He gave her a wry look.

Clearly Resh had trusted Alexandr, so why was she holding back from agreeing to an alliance? Something about him didn’t ring true, as if the face he put on for the world disguised something else altogether.

Panic hit and she trembled. Who could she really believe in this realm? She needed allies. What if the creatures returned in full force and dragged her into the Abyss?

But trusting Alexandr didn’t feel right.

“Tell me something. Did you see anything the day I arrived? Something else aside from me on the ledge?” she asked, suddenly curious to know if he’d seen the entities from her visions.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Alexandr said, glancing at the door.

She couldn’t look away from the tight lines around his eyes. She frowned. He couldn’t have known about her connection with Molokh before she arrived; she was becoming paranoid, but still she hesitated to draw anything, especially with Besmelo’s warnings ringing in her ears.

The silver doors swung open. Anchal stood in the entrance, wearing the same hooded cloak as the day they’d met.

“The Tribune will meet you now.” He bowed and stepped back, ushering them in.

She walked through the doorway with Alexandr on her heels. The interior was square, monochromatic, and high-roofed. Directly in front, two stone pillars held up a floor to ceiling black altar. Black-robed warlocks were seated on lacquer benches against opposite walls. Lines had been carved into the harlequin marble floor, joining together to form one massive pentagram. A huge black snake weaved its way through the markings, like some sort of pagan god. For a moment her head swam and her body tingled.

“The Serpent of Wisdom. It won’t bite. But don’t step on it,” Alexandr whispered in her ear. “Do you agree to draw for me?”

She shook her head absently, her stomach falling at the sight of fifty or so robed warlocks waiting for her. The floor vibrated as the warlocks stood.

* * * *

Maya sat in a wooden chair, facing the altar. Two men and three women blinked into existence and sat in high-backed chairs in front of the altar. Their high ritual headdresses and long robes marked them as the arch-warlocks. She could feel the snake pushing against her feet and she avoided looking down, pretended it was nothing. The smell of burning incense and herbs overpowered her senses, adding to the disorientation.

The five arch-warlocks questioned her for what seemed like hours about the Khereb, the events in the Vault, her ancestry, and the source of her powers. The frozen stares told her the meeting wasn’t going well.

“You are an elemental witch,” said the gray-haired sorceress. “You reek of chaos magic and put this realm at great risk. What do the Khereb want with you?”

“I suspect it’s the magi on Earth who started all this,” Maya said for what seemed like the fiftieth time. She glanced at Alexandr, who sat on a bench with a blank look on his face. Clearly he’d decided to leave her to her own devices since she’d declined his request.

“Why would the magi break peace with us?” The sorceress rubbed her thumb in her hand in an unconscious gesture. God forbid if the woman was hexing her.

“Only you know what you’ve done to earn their hatred,” Maya said.

The arch-warlocks glanced at one another. “The vote is unanimous,” one of the dark-skinned warlocks said. He timed his reply to a clock striking twelve that had appeared in midair above their heads. “Resheph was supposed to end your life. The Pillars are closed and the Guardian will not answer our summons.”

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Now wasn’t the time to let them know Besmelo wouldn’t be responding to anyone’s calls.

“Resh is coming back,” Maya said. She concentrated on breathing evenly, keeping any weakness out of her voice.

A murmur of dissent went through the room. One of the arch-warlocks clicked his fingers, and Lucient and Anchal appeared by his side.

“I’m afraid it is unlikely,” said Lucient. “The witches have sent a message.” He pulled a yellow scroll from his robe. “They’ve agreed to allow you indenture to the coven.”

“I left my world seeking help from Balkaith.” Maya’s voice echoed. Enslavement by witches didn’t sound like a positive option; even Clarice seemed frightened of them. She tried to contain her anger and failed.

The female arch-warlock stared at her. “We are at war. Despite your obvious connection with Resheph,” she glanced at her tattoo, “asylum is denied. Esmonda has accused you of treachery against the realm. She has petitioned for your death and we won’t stand in her way.” Her lips curled in distaste, but her voice was resolute. “Resheph is gone, and any connection you have to his name is inconsequential. It is decided. You’ll be placed under house arrest until you meet Esmonda on the field of death tomorrow. The witches may reanimate your remains.”

Maya launched out of her chair. “If the Khereb are here, you need your best warrior returned, in good form. You’ll have to join together—all the bloody races—to get rid of the bastard hybrids before they suck every living soul into the Abyss. I can help.” Her voice rose on the end note.

The arch-warlocks didn’t seem convinced. In fact, the entire Tribune turned their backs on her and blinked out of existence. Alexandr included.

A Little Pain Never Killed Anyone

Thunder slammed against the fortress with such ferocity that Maya felt overwhelmed and alienated by it all. The blast shook the floor beneath her feet and a bolt of lightning lit up the window in her room.

This world, with its beauty and politics, and its cruelty hidden behind polite words, disturbed her. She didn’t understand the rules and couldn’t possibly defend herself against Esmonda. Such a short time ago she’d thought herself human. For a moment she missed her tiny apartment so much, her breath caught in her throat. Wind whistled against the pane of glass and she tugged the curtains closed with a whisper of crisp linen.

Maya walked into the bathroom. She lit a candle and filled the tub with hot water. Her body ached with exhaustion, but her mind was like a
holovid
, flickering over a series of faces and scenes, irritating her with its incessant search for a way out of the mess she was in. She could imagine standing face-to-face with Esmonda tomorrow, and she frowned. The woman would zap her into the a pile of ash and the witches would sift through her remains. She stifled a shudder and slipped into the silky water. Besmelo and the Tribune had given her a lot to think about. If she was honest with herself, she had to admit she was ashamed. Not only because she’d tossed Resh out into the Abyss, but by her heritage. She had to re-create a high ritual, but the chances of bringing every race together were slim.

The darkness outside the small window matched her thoughts. Water wrapped her body in a cocoon, the only light coming from the fat candle emitting earthy frankincense.

She felt someone staring and swiveled to the door. Resh leaned against the frame, staring at her. He cleared his throat. “So. I leave you alone for two days and you cause so much havoc the head dryad is in tears and my sister is after your head. What did you say to the Tribune to send them into such panic?”

She jerked and water spilled over the side of the tub. She lowered herself deeper into the water, embarrassed by her naked breasts. Her heart banged louder than the thunder clamoring outside as relief fought with fear. She wished she were Alice, and could disappear down the drain hole into Wonderland. They watched each other in silence for a moment.

“What did you expect me to say? I told them they had to join together if they wanted to get rid of the Khereb.” She glanced up at the ceiling where the echoing boom continued. “That aside, I’m crapped off with the twaddle you fed me on Earth. I can’t understand why you didn’t just tell me we’d be sharing one mind. How do you expect me to trust you now?” She hoped the dim light would hide her tears, embarrassed at the lame words, but struggling to find a way to express her relief.

He sighed and moved into the room, his silhouette a massive black shape against the wall. “Maya, I never seem to say the right thing around you. It’s my fault you arrived unprepared. My stupidity is unforgivable. All I can say in defense is the situation deteriorated fast. The Khereb arrived and … damnation, the need to escape overtook everything else.”

If he thought he could just apologize he was in for a surprise. Holding back on Jane’s death was only one lie in a long line of rubbish he’d fed her. He leaned against the wall, slithering down until he sat on the rock floor, one arm resting on a raised knee. His fitted shirt accentuated his powerful arms and torso. Ropes of raw, red skin circled his neck and wrists.

“Don’t do it again.” Oh, she was such a pushover, but it was better than some corny outpouring of emotion.

“I’ll try.” His scarred mouth screwed into a familiar line. “I can’t stand seeing you in danger. It brings out my worst instincts.” There was a flat note in his voice that she couldn’t quite understand.

Shit, she’d have to trust him. He could have killed her and didn’t. What was she thinking; he
should
have killed her. She sank her teeth into her lip. “Don’t you care?” Either Alexandr or Clarice must have told him. “I didn’t know about him until today.” Would he believe her? She tightened her fingers on the rim of the tub. The water was cooling, and she’d have to get out soon.

“I guessed there was more to you when we first met, and after a while it no longer mattered. Once I met you, everything changed. All I could think of was keeping you safe.” His voice lowered. “I met your father.”

She leaned back, staring at the ceiling, raising her knees in an echo of his. And there it was. The hateful secret she couldn’t hide from, no matter where she ran. He was handling it all incredibly well—being kinder than she deserved or expected. How could he look at her, given the past, knowing who her father was? But she didn’t want to question him, too scared to find out.

“He tortured you,” she said, the sadness catching at the words. She’d seen him suffering and wanted to tell him she hated her gene pool, but she couldn’t find the words around the tangle of emotions.

Resh shrugged, but his body was taut. “I’m angry you sold yourself to get me back. I won’t let it happen unless you decide it is the path you wish to take. Alexandr has agreed to help. We’ll seek out the witches and Clarice will convince Lord Seth of Nephthys to meet us in Tau. A Circle of Eight to evoke the Enim warriors.”

“Where are we going to find a mage?” She knew the chances were slim they could achieve it.

“I’ll drag a magister across the Abyss if I have to.” He sounded impatient.

“Is there anything else you haven’t told me?” His face was about as easy to read as a blank sheet of paper.

“Isn’t it enough I deceived you about Jane, and our joining?” Amusement shone through the tightness in his voice.

“You know what? It’s not a huge surprise I have a demon father. My life has been … well, weird from the beginning. Who else do you know who can draw pictures that animate?” She looked up at him. “Why did you bring me here? You could have left me on Earth.” Damn, how far did she want to take this?

“By all the gods, Maya.” His voice vibrated in the stark room. “Why do you have to question everything? I brought you here because I thought I could keep you safe. Isn’t that enough for now?” He stood, holding out a bath cloth. “Stand for me?” he asked, his voice quiet and controlled.

Maya pushed up from the sides of the tub, grateful it supported her leaden thighs. He wrapped the cloth around her body and picked her up. She made a slight sound of surprise.

A flush of heat passed through her body. She should probably stand on her own feet, but having him close brought a rush of tears to her eyes. She blinked hard.

“Don’t ever take such a risk again. We’ll work this out together, understand? You don’t belong to Molokh, or to the Earth realm.” Thunder rumbled in the background, a sudden counterpoint to his implacable tone. Up close she could see lines of strain around his eyes and mouth.

She recoiled a bit at his candor. “Are you okay?”

“I heal fast,” he said. In his jaw a muscle twitched.

“What if the visions drag me into the Abyss?” She knew he must have seen it in her mind when they had been joined. Her skin flared with shivers and her breath caught in her throat as he walked into the next room.

“There’s no hiding from Molokh. We’ll face him when the time comes. We belong together. I’d rather be with you than any other. I won’t leave you to battle this on your own. As long as I live I’ll stay with you. And protect you.”

She eyed the width of his shoulders, knowing he was the best champion she could imagine. What did he see in her? His hair was brushed back from his harsh features, falling to his rigid shoulders, making him look beautiful and foreign at the same time.

He smiled at her, lighting his tense expression. “No games. Who knows how long we have,” he said gently, right next to her ear. He laid her on her bed. A lustrous light flashed in his pupils. It was the strangest thing, one minute obsidian black and the next glittering silver.

“None,” she agreed. What else could she say? Tomorrow he’d have more to answer for, but tonight … well, maybe she could focus on pleasure instead of death.

Maya’s eyelids were heavy as she watched him remove his shirt in the dim light. Thunder rocked the castle, so close it seemed to rattle the bed frame. Her head fell back on the pillows as he joined her on the bed. Patches of white gauze obscured his wounds, and he smelled faintly of herbs and incense.

The silence stretched out between them. He leaned on one elbow, watching her with dark eyes. Her heart beat too fast in her chest. She resisted the urge to check the rhythm—she knew she shouldn’t trust him, but she needed the closeness she’d felt when they’d crossed the Abyss. Being alone didn’t hold the attraction it used to.

He touched her face and drew a fingertip down one cheek, her jaw, and neck. She raised a tentative hand to brush his scarred mouth, touching the ridges and bumps and the lush corner of his lip. What changes had come over him in the Abyss? Could a man go through that kind of torture and still remain the same inside? Apart from several bandages, he seemed intact. She tensed at the thought and her hand fell away.