Protected by Emeralds (A Dance with Destiny Book 5) (33 page)

“And what of Jinn? Why did he spare Jinn? They most definitely believe in Angels, demons as well. I mean, Munenori freely walks among them. Always has.”

“Pfft… Apollyon is not afraid of Munenori.” His countenance visibly darkened. “No. It goes much deeper than that. The people of Jinn, they are… different…” He shook his head. “Anyway, Apollyon went to Jinn to seek vengeance on but one man. Now, enough about all that, my love. We have bloody work that needs to be seen to. Come. It is time for me to fulfill my promise to you.” The handsome soul-eater turned to Akio. “Sincerest apologies, little Lord, but I am afraid this lovely Angel cannot be your wife. She is mine, and as such, no longer available to wed. There is a war raging just outside your door.” He motioned with a nod of his head. “If you aren’t going to help, best stay out of the way. I would hate to see you end up scarring that pretty face of yours.”

Akio only stared at Jenevier, until she finally met his tortured gaze.

“Milady?”

“What he says is true,” she whispered. “I was payment for your father’s dark deeds. The silver woman who befriended him,
I
was the agreed upon tender. She had a grudge to settle, a bit of my flesh was her price.”

“Yet she is only a Guardian,” Ahriman said. “She had not the power to amass such a horde.”

Jenevier smiled sadly at the stunned young man. “She needed the Hand of Hell for such as that. And what was left of me after her payment had been painfully extracted… well, that was
his
price.”

Ahriman wrapped his arm around her waist, smiling coolly. “As I said before, she is mine now.”

*****

Jenevier looked around the darkened bedroom. “What are we doing here?”

“Paying our last respects,” Ahriman said with a slight chuckle.

The dark soul-eating Angel stretched his hand out over the stilled form of a wide-eyed, terrified Brutus.

“Swaptonus… Batac… Helamuya… Karmonis, Valencia.”

Ahriman spoke those strange words as an Otherworldly glow surrounded the man who had sacrificed his favorite son’s body to a demon, started this world-altering war, and handed Jenevier over as recompense to her hated ethereal sister.

“It is done,” Ahriman whispered. “If you wish to do so, now is the time to bid adieu to your nemesis, Milady. There’s a party knocking on our door. We best be joining it.”

Jenevier looked closer at the wicked man lying there… and beheld the sky blue eyes of a heavenly Vanir staring back at her.

“Valencia?” she whispered.

Sheer horror filled those ethereal eyes as realization took hold, not only in the she-Guardian, but in Jenevier as well.

“Best get going, Love,” Ahriman said, gently taking her hand. “We’ve got bloody work to do, you and I.”

Jenevier smiled, her gaze still locked with her twisted sister’s. “I had no idea you could do such as this. Where ever did you acquire such a demented skill?”

“Ahh, that will have to be my little secret, dear heart. You won’t be vexed with me, will you?”

“Vexed? More like… amazed.” She giggled happily. “Yep, I believe I love you, Vybius.”

She giggled again, playfully waving her fingers at Valencia, sending her last good-byes as she let the soul-eater pull her from that dark, depressing prison-room.

*****

Jenevier took a step back when the giant serrated blade came down toward her, and found herself pressed up against an unmoving form. She glanced around to meet Ahriman’s flashing silver gaze. He winked at her and she smiled, before they both turned back to face their opponents, simultaneously claiming two more vile heads.

Ahriman chuckled. “I shall need a good bath after this.”

“This whole realm shall need a good bath after this,” she mumbled.

“Ahh, yes. Glory and gore—blood and honor. They are the sweetest of bedfellows. Let us claim them as our own, shall we?”

The now jovial soul-eater swatted her across the bottom as he made his way deeper into the swarming throng of demons.

“I have claimed forty-two,” he called out over his shoulder. “By my count, you have only managed to dispatch about twenty-seven.” He turned to face her while running backwards. “Seems I am a better Death Angel than you.” He winked.

“Only because their sword pauses when they find themselves face to face with the Hand of Hell,” she called out after him. “You filthy little purple traitor.”

Her chuckle was cut short when another blade came gleaming through the darkness, ringing loudly when it met Amatiste.

“Oh, by the way,” Ahriman shouted. “Watch out behind you.”

Jenevier saw him wink again just before he turned to face his next opponent.

Cocky little soul-eater
, Nilakanta grumbled.

“That’s forty-three! No… forty-four!”

His playful shouts wafted back to her. Jenevier chuckled.

“Perhaps he
is
a bit full of himself,” she said. “But I would much rather have him standing beside me than standing against me.”

In battle, perhaps.
Nilakanta paused.
I hate to think about him at your side once all of this is through.

“Then do not think about it, Dragon.” She smiled. “Save tomorrow’s worries for tomorrow.”

Jenevier stood there gazing at the dark Angel’s slim form, dancing through the battle as if he were masterfully performing an exquisitely lethal ballet—elegant and graceful, an Otherworldly titan made all the more glorious silhouetted by black wings. He glanced her way and smiled. She melted a little more inside. He was mesmerizing, his long braid floating on the air as a leaf atop rolling waters.

“Water,” she whispered, as her mind drifted to earlier that day. “…Vybius standing in that cold river.”

Her eyelashes nearly fluttered. Were she not in the midst of a war, she may have swooned.

“Those beautifully perfect lips,” she mumbled. “And oh my… those amazingly delicious hip bones of his.”

She sucked air in through her teeth, then tried to shake the disturbing thoughts away.

“Do you always go about talking to yourself while you’re killing things?”

The familiar voice made her smile.

“Or are you just mad, tiny little Dragon girl?”

“Yes, Dimples,” she said through her smile, not turning to face the handsome sell-sword. “I am most certainly mad, daft, and completely off my rocker, to be sure. Good to see you again, water boy.”

He yanked hard on one of her curls, causing her smirk to be replaced with giggles.

“How fares our good Prince?” she asked, just as she claimed another grotesque head from its hunched shoulders.

“He yet lives,” Duhrias said. “I am nothing if not true to my word. Command obeyed, Milady.”

She turned just in time to see his blatant smirk. She matched it.

“Gratitude, Sir Knight.” She mockingly curtsied.

“Oh, so I’m a Sir now, am I?”

“Would you rather be a Dame?” She smiled, trying to hold in her mounting giggles. “And what of Izaru? Did he recognize you?”

“I haven’t seen him. No one has. Seems that old white devil just up and disappeared.”

“In hiding, more like,” she grumbled. “So many men pretend to have the strength to start a war, yet there are precious few with the guts to see it to its end.”

They separated long enough to dispatch the closest demons before turning back to each other.

“I feared you were dead, Naga.” He pulled her close to him. “Your sweet blood flowed through me… hollowed out my heart.”

“Was that
you
I bathed in?”

“Do not jest, Little Fire.” He tightened his grip upon her arm. “And never scare me like that, ever again.”

“I was beaten, yes,” she said in a low voice. “Yet I live.”

“And who laid hands upon you?” His growl rumbled around them. “Akio?”

“Nay, Brother. My silver sister got a bit happy with the lash. She was waiting for me. She even watched as you left me here. She was planning on chaining you up beside me. She thought for sure I would keep you close to my side. Anyway, she got me… drugged my tea.”

“Wait.” Duhrias gasped. “Silver? Do you mean her hair?”

“Yes. Her hair is as spun silver. She doesn’t braid it. It flows freely… nearly down to her knees.” Jenevier studied his searching eyes. “Why do you ask, Dimples? Tell me. Have you seen her?”

“Well, yeah. I mean, she’s a bit hard to miss. Much like you, Milady.” He winked down at her. “And when your skin glows like a beacon lit by moonlight, you cannot easily stay hidden on a darkened battlefield.”

*****

“Well, well, well… Lookie here who we found.”

Izaru turned to face the approaching giants.

“Aye, Brother,” Vittorio said through a cold smile. “Looks a bit like a wee white weasel tae me.”

“Wh-who are you?” Izaru backed further into the cave as he spoke. “What do you want with me? Do not harm me. I am unarmed.”

“Aye now, is that so?” Vittorio looked to his ethereal counterpart. “An’ what do ye think aboot that, Brother?”

Vareilious snarled, saliva dripping from his razor sharp teeth. “I’d say that’s rather poor planning on your part, weasel dude.”

Izaru withdrew his hidden sword with one hand, while pointing a shaking pistol with the other.

“St-stay b-back. I’m wa-warning you.”

The Guardian Vanirs shared a knowing glance as they continued their purposeful advance.

“I said, stay back. D-don’t make me have to—”

“Have to what?” Vareilious growled. “We only wanted to play with you. Where’s the harm in that?”

“Aye, are ye nae the one who likes tae look upon pain, wee butler? Do ye nae think it’s a beautiful thing tae behold?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the rumor
I
heard,” Vareilious hissed.

Bitter, terrified screams rang out through the darkness, mingled together with deep celestial laughter… and then faded into the night.

*****

“There are too many of you now to pick out just one,” Duhrias said. “You shine beside me. That dark-winged one you were gawking at looks like someone flipped on a light switch.” He playfully bumped her with his elbow as he spoke. “There were two others—stood taller than me even… but I don’t see them now.”

“Taller than you,” she mumbled to herself. “Were they silver of hair as well? Much like the woman?”

Duhrias cast her a sideways glance and smiled. “I figured they were some more of your
boys
.” He chuckled. “You like them fair of hair, don’t you, Kagi Naga?”

She smiled with only one corner of her mouth. “I prefer my
boys
with long silky tresses, yes. But they do not have to be fair. I like all colors.”

He yanked another one of her curls. “That’s good to hear. My locks flow long as well.”

She raised a single brow. “And don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Duhrias’s playful smile faded. “There she is.” He pointed to his left. “There’s your silver sister, crossing blades with the Prince.”

Jenevier was gone in a blink. Duhrias gave chase.

She was no longer playful and teasing. The tiny Death Angel left a large path of severed bodies, falling to ash in her wake. She slammed into the giant she-Guardian, pinning her to the ground.

When she confirmed that the bright blue eyes of her heavenly kin were absent this lovely ethereal face, when she saw that maddened brown eyes now looked up at her, Jenevier laughed and stood up, releasing her angelic
looking
prisoner.

“She is all yours, Your Highness.” She nodded toward the now standing Vanir. “Stop
her
, and you stop the war.” Her gaze met Prince Suou’s. “Remove her head, and this will all go away. It is your destiny, Milord. Seize it.”

Jenevier turned back to Duhrias then, smiling as she neared the handsome sell-sword. He flinched when a guttural scream tore from Valencia’s throat as the
Brutus-possessed
she-Guardian lunged at Jenevier, quickly bringing that ethereal blade down full force… slicing the smiling Angel down the entire length of her back—from her right shoulder, across her spine, and out again.

Jenevier’s eyes went wide as she slowly fell, face-first upon the ground. She heard a bestial yell, and then a sickening thump. Blinking twice before the glowing face came into focus, Jenevier silently watched as Valencia’s dismembered head fell to ash.

She snorted out a laugh, smiling as she rolled onto her back and looked up at the sparkling stars.

“It is finished,” she whispered, elated.

Ringing laughter drew her attention to enchanting amethyst eyes, and then to the hand extended down toward her. She firmly grasped Ahriman’s forearm as he pulled her to her feet and embraced her.