Between the Waters (Symphony of Light) (21 page)

“What does it mean?”

His hand entwined with mine, and he wrapped our combined arms around me, holding us even closer.

“Roughly translated it’s, ‘Since you have forgotten me, I said good-bye to joy and our lover’s life, and regret the day I gave you my love. But even though you have forgotten me, I still keep my promise to love only you.’”

I stiffened. The poor man. Beyond his heartache was my own. With all my distractions, did Cyril think I had forgotten him?

“I wrote it one night when I could no longer remember her face except for the horror of her death. In that time, it was said that memories were the dead’s tie to the living and when the memories faded it meant they had moved on. Preposterous, I know, but those were the times. One day I could no longer recall her joy, only the horror, and figured she had finally left me. I dealt with the grief through my poetry. That night Lafavre murdered two women.”

Something wet slid down my clavicle—his tears. Outside Anne, the executive director of the Cultural Trust, in her long dark hair, blue cloak, and ice-blue muff, spoke into a microphone, thanking the hundred attendees for their support.

He held me tighter. His languid prose drifted on the air with the haunting melody that fell from his lips.

“Puis qu’en oubli sui de vous, dous amis.”

His voice was a perfect tenor, full-ranged, and rich. The room with its glass and vast space made his words seem surreal.

“Vie amoureuse et joie a Dieu commant.”

I stared into the crowd below, a sea of masks, suits, and long wool coats.

“Mar vi le jour que m’amour en vous mis.”

The ice skaters’ ballet mesmerized as Moreaux undid the buttons of my coat.

“Puis qu’en oubli sui de vous, dous amis.”

He slipped my coat from my shoulders, dropping it to the floor. Outside Anne called on all to support the arts.

“Mais ce tenray que je vous ay promis.”

The sun had set, but the light from a large lantern landed on the red beads around my throat as Moreaux led me to the window, my hand firmly planted in his grasp.

“C’est que ja mais n’aray nul autre amant.”

We stood facing the crowd, inches from the glass. He moved to stand beside me. Wrapping his arm around me, allowing his fingertips to drift across the skin of my bare arms, he took a deep breath and raised his arm to look at his watch. From there I could see them all—Sinclair, Clarence, Rhys, Dominic, Thor, and Overton—their gazes all fixed on the glass I stood behind.

“Puis qu’en oubli sui de vous, dous amis.”

The excitement in Anne’s voice grew as she described the gift provided by their patron, my introduction, and a brief description of my escort.

“Puis qu’en oubli sui de vous, dous amis.”

The skaters paused, legs crossed, toe planted in the ice.

Outside Anne’s voice echoed, “Without further adieu…” She removed her hand from the muff and motioned to the window.

“Vie amoureuse et joie a Dieu commant.”

Moreaux’s unearthly voice held the final note as light filled the room from behind us. The crowd cheered. Applauses rang out and hundreds of masks were tossed into the air. The beauty of the moment could not be surpassed. I found myself smiling at the extravagance and magical feel of the moment.

Moreaux kissed my cheek and squeezed me tighter.

“You are more stunning than I could have imagined.”

My eyes fixed on Overton and the man disrobing next to him.

“The best is yet to come,” he whispered in my ear.

At once images hit me, and in the moments that followed my mind struggled to keep up. The crowd turned from cheers to screams. Moreaux’s voice changed. It was now apparent that every member of the waitstaff was identical just like Mary, but not Mary—Mary’s male counterpart. They were men of large stature, close cropped black hair, and athletic. Most patrons looked on in awe as though it were some type of burlesque interlude intended to entertain. But this was no strip show; they were shifting.

“No!” I tried to pull loose of Moreaux. “Let me go. I’ve got to help them.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” He held my arm in his crushing grip.

“What the fuck are you doing? Let me go!” I looked away from the horror outside and into his eyes. He was different.

“No. You will not ruin it. Do you know how hard it was to get them all in one place?” He pulled me to him. “Not to mention how much persuasion was necessary to convince Vidius that now was the perfect time to use them.”

This was not Moreaux. The same body, but there was nothing similar about him. “Moreaux said you wouldn’t hurt me.” I tried to pull free, but he was strong.

“He’s right. I’d never hurt you. You are far too precious to me, but unlike that fool, I don’t share. You are mine, and there will be no others. I won’t stomach a whore.” He grabbed my arms and pulled them behind my back. From his pocket he pulled duct tape. “You’re lucky. I’m feeling forgiving today. I can smell him on you, but I’ll clean you, lock you up so you’ll never be soiled again. If you have needs, I will see to them. No one touches you but me.”

Angering him was not the wisest move, but I was pissed and scared. Throwing him off guard might be my only hope. “What about Moreaux? Are you afraid I’ll fuck him? What if he’s a better lover?”

He slammed my face against the glass and shoved his knee between my legs. “Impossible. I know exactly what you want. You want a man who can tame you. Your smart mouth gets you in trouble, but it’s all just a dare, isn’t it? You want me to fuck you hard, you want me to punish you. I can’t stand the smell of him on you. It’s driving me mad.” He pushed me harder into the glass.

I looked down and saw Overton battling a beast that had a woman by the throat. He had a knife to aid his elegant martial arts style of fighting. I let out a sigh of relief remembering how the beast didn’t attack me.

“You do know Cyril’s men are immune to your creatures.”

“Yes, the others, but not these. We found something even better than Cyril’s blood. Vidius will someday be a god, and I am his chosen. You are my bride.”

Vidius, one of six men created by Cyril’s goddess Arista, who damned them all to Earth for millenniums when she went mad and destroyed herself in the process. Cyril spoke of past quarrels with Vidius, but nothing that explained this. But if they weren’t created with Cyril’s blood, Overton was in trouble. They all were.

“What did you use?”

He lifted my dress over my hips. I refused to let this asshole violate me, no matter what the bond made my body feel, but I had to wait for my opportunity.

“The essence of a goddess.”

“Impossible.” I heard the zipper on his pants lower.

“No more impossible than Cyril’s existence, and without him in the picture, Vidius will rule them all. When Aristia destroyed herself, fragments of her ended up here. Vidius has been collecting them. Every time Cyril destroys one of his brethren, those items grow stronger. Vidius has perfected a process to capture the energy in liquid, just like human doctors practice homeopathics. Our most prized possession—her eyes. Succumb to me, my queen, for I am the new god’s king.”

I felt him hard against my ass. Speed. Using my full magical speed I kicked backward, sweeping his leg. He loosened his grip on my neck enough for me to break free. I kicked him between the legs just before slamming his head into the glass. I slipped out of my shoes and screamed. The guards opened the door to investigate, and I plowed through. Like lightning, I ran to the end of the hall and down the stairs, skipping three or four at a time. I stumbled into the courtyard.

Overton, where was he?

Carnage everywhere. Screams still erupted and the men continued to fight. Sinclair was off to my left with three or four dead beasts lying at his feet. He slit another one’s throat as one of the dead beasts began to rise again. I slipped on my glove, charged it, and changed my vision to my second sight. I searched for its soul and used magic to call it to me once my hand landed on its chest. With the soul in hand, it fell to the ground.

“They won’t stay dead,” Sinclair said between strikes.

The one beside me started to rise, but I extracted its soul before it could lift its hind legs. There were hundreds; I couldn’t kill them all.

Sinclair’s arm was a bloodied mess from the creatures ripping at his flesh. One grabbed him by the throat, and I knew there was only one thing that could save us. Cyril. I needed Cyril.

I focused my sight and headed in the direction of the strongest magic, and to my luck it made the confluence at the compound seem like Kool-Aid.

Passing ice sculptures and frightened civilians, I ran. No time to remove my blood-splattered dress, but with the strength of the pulse flowing from the conjunction of four strong ley lines and the convergence of the Mon and Allegheny Rivers, I needed no assistance to channel. Almost the instant my feet reached the point, the pulse possessed me. I stood between the waters, fueled by passion, pain, fear, and desperation, and transformed my will into truth. I removed my glove, then the beads from around my neck, and raised them above my head. I screamed. Fuck chanting. I didn’t want Cyril back. I needed him. A need beyond all needs. There was no doubt, no wavering that he was the only one to save us.

“Nium parnum omsti narum!” More screams echoed through the corridor.

“Nium parnum omsti narum!” A bloodied woman collapsed on the sidewalk in front of the Glass Castle seconds before a beast mounted her back and ripped her flesh. My body buzzed with electricity, and the air crackled.

“Nium parnum omsti narum!” Lightning struck the massive structure, sending shards of glass into the crowd.

I sucked in air and forced it out in a bellow as though I wanted Cyril to hear it wherever he was. “Fucking Nium parnum omsti narum!”

Huge clouds rolled, and hundreds of lightning strikes fractured the sky. The beads on my hands melted, coating me in Cyril’s blood and tears. A deafening crack of thunder sounded, and the lights throughout the city darkened.

The pulse eased, lightning stopped, and my hands burned as if I had touched the surface of the sun. I closed my eyes.

When I opened them…nothing had changed. Darkness, broken glass, terror and chaos remained.

I screamed to no one, “Son of a bitch. Why didn’t it work?”

Nothing left to do but fight them one by one. I ran back, thankful for the cold pavement on my burning feet. My dress was singed. Cyril’s blood and tears covered my arms, chest, face, and hair like wax dripping from a candle.

More blood, more carnage. In the far corner, Overton caught my eye. He was bloodied, but such a skilled fighter he dodged most of their blows as if he were dancing with them.

Further away, Rhys used a huge sword I had seen in one of the window displays; beside him a beast assisted—Clarence. “Come on, you big oversized pussy, meet my sword.” His taunts echoed through the space.

Rhys skewered one of them, and the shrill scream the beast made shook the glass. Pieces fell to the ground, shattering in an eerie rhythm. I turned, intent on helping Overton. What I saw made me nearly vomit.

A beast about to pounce on Overton just as Overton was impaled by a large piece of glass.

I ran at the creature, aiming to pluck out its soul. Barreling into its side, I dropped it to the ground. If only I could call the souls of the living to me like that of the dead, but it didn’t work that way, otherwise I’d wipe out masses of people each time I called souls. But it would have been real fucking convenient at that moment.

I rolled off the beast and found Overton gasping for breath.

“Oh God. Oh God. No.”

He coughed and blood oozed from his mouth.

“No. No. No.”

His voice was faint. “I’ll live.” He tried to smile, but the blood choked him.

“I’m not so sure. I tried to call Cyril. I honestly did. I’m so sorry.” My tears fell on his face as I cradled his head.

His eyes began to roll back in his head. I slapped his cheeks. “Don’t leave me.”

“I love you.”

My heart crumbled, my rage grew. No Cyril, and Overton dying in my arms.

“I…I…” A large object fell from the sky, or rather landed. Another piece of glass? But nothing shattered. The darkness and the piles of bodies made it impossible to see anything in the direction of the unidentified object. I repositioned myself toward that faint movement ready to pluck the soul out of anything that came for us.

I placed my back toward Overton and held out my hand ready.

Two black objects headed toward me just as I caught sight of dozens of beasts returning after chasing down victims.

When I turned my focus back to my combatant, my heart momentarily stopped.

Cyril. In all his glory, walking with huge outstretched black wings, in only a pair of black linen pants with a sword in hand, stared at me. As he got closer, the wings dissolved into a black shimmery dust. Overton squeezed my arm, but I couldn’t look away. Magnificent.

I had forgotten how big he was. Six foot five inches of commanding muscle and male perfection. His dark hair blowing with the wintry wind.

He stood above me, arms crossed. “What did you do?”

“I…ahh…” It wasn’t exactly how I imagined our re-acquaintance, but the situation was far from ideal. I wanted to run to him, but Overton…

In the next moment, Cyril reached down and lifted me in his free arm. “We’ll talk later. Right now I need your assistance to help me clean up your mess.” With that, he sank his teeth deep into my neck. He drank from me, refueling his magic. With each pull, he set my body on fire. I fought the ecstasy of the experience, as this was not the place or the time to come undone. His hands pulled at my dress as he fought the effects too. In the end he sat me on the ground and in a flash was gone. The yelps and screams of the beasts filled the air as Cyril exacted his vengeance.

I gasped as a fist wrapped in my hair and pulled me backward over Overton’s legs.

“You didn’t think I was leaving without you did you?” Lafavre’s voice rang clear.