Read Surrender to Darkness Online
Authors: Annette McCleave
Surrender to Darkness (31 page)
“What expectation did I fail to meet?” he asked.
“You still do not acknowledge that the berserker is
you
.”
you
.”
He was silent for a moment, thoughtful. “You think that I attribute my interest in you to the berserker.”
“Don’t you?”
“No.”
“Murdoch, be honest. In your mind, you are the calm, rational warrior who prides himself on his self-control. It’s the berserker who is responsible for all the passionate, unruly things you do and feel and say.”
“Not
all
.”
all
.”
“Most, then. It doesn’t matter. The point is if it weren’t for your berserker, your attention would have long since moved on to some other woman.”
“Not true.”
“Forgive me if I disagree.”
“Lass, you need to give me some credit.” A half smile softened the contours of his face. “First, as I lie here, a little dizzy from drinking in your perfume and daydreaming about trailing kisses down your belly, the berserker is nowhere in sight. There’s only me. Second, there is no berserker—nor for that matter any other woman—in my dreams. There’s only you.”
She melted a little.
Was it wrong to be so easily swayed by a few sultry words? And by his total lack of shame in admitting that her presence made him dizzy? Murdoch had a number of issues, but a lack of self-confidence wasn’t one of them.
And she liked that.
A lot.
“Have no doubt,” he added.
“I
want you. In ways I can’t begin to describe. I’ve said it before, but it begs repeating—were it not for my damned berserker, I’d leap on you this very moment. I’d steal every breath from your lips, discover every intriguing inch of your body, and drive you as wild as I please, with absolutely no mercy. I’d make you see stars. Me. Not my bloody berserker. Got it?”
“I
want you. In ways I can’t begin to describe. I’ve said it before, but it begs repeating—were it not for my damned berserker, I’d leap on you this very moment. I’d steal every breath from your lips, discover every intriguing inch of your body, and drive you as wild as I please, with absolutely no mercy. I’d make you see stars. Me. Not my bloody berserker. Got it?”
“Got it,” she croaked. Her body was on fire. She had never wanted to crawl inside someone as much as she wanted to be part of Murdoch and his vivid imaginings right this minute. “Maybe we should nap.”
He groaned.
“Lord, if I hadn’t promised Emily I’d drive her into town, I’d take you up on that. I owe you one.”
One.
An orgasm
. Kiyoko blushed. “I guess we should head back to the house.”
An orgasm
. Kiyoko blushed. “I guess we should head back to the house.”
His hand slid over her hip, stilling her attempt to rise. Warm, strong, reassuring. “Lass, I’m going to figure this out, I swear. The Veil, the berserker, the whole damned mess. I
will
find an answer.”
will
find an answer.”
Outdated though it was, his medieval chivalry stole her breath away. But even as her heart fluttered, her stomach roiled with guilt. He’d been nothing but open and honest, and now he was offering to do everything in his power to help her. Yet she had not shown him a similar courtesy.
He deserved to know the truth. He deserved to know how she was planning to use him. Goddess of Death or no goddess of Death.
“Actually,” she said, “I already have an answer. But you aren’t going to like it.”
Although Kiyoko’s insistence on returning to Murdoch’s side had infuriated him, Azazel did all his seething beneath the surface. Questioning her further about the information in the oracle was vital. Instead of allowing her to eat breakfast, he should have dragged her off to his room. He slowly consumed the sickeningly sweet cinnamon roll, displaying all the professional demeanor and unshakable calm that Ryuji Watanabe prided himself on.
Or had. Right up to the end.
No,
including
the end. The man had even died calm. Never begged for his life. Never cried. Worked right up until the end to free himself, yes, but never panicked and never whimpered. He’d been no fun at all. No wonder Kiyoko had been bored.
including
the end. The man had even died calm. Never begged for his life. Never cried. Worked right up until the end to free himself, yes, but never panicked and never whimpered. He’d been no fun at all. No wonder Kiyoko had been bored.
He deposited his empty tray in the rack near the kitchen and left the cafeteria. The time spent here had not been wasted. A loud young Irishman by the name of Quinn had helped him out immensely. He now knew the Gatherers would be absent en masse on Saturday night. MacGregor had planned a large-scale field mission to wrap up the training session and make up for today’s lost lesson.
With almost everyone away, absconding with the Temple Veil would be a simple task. All he had to do now was locate the damned thing. With an old-fashioned physical search, since there was some kind of dampening spell over the ranch. Still, how hard could it be? The relic had to be somewhere amid the small set of belongings she had brought with her from Japan.
He stepped out into the midmorning light and, almost on cue, a cloud slithered over the sun.
Of course, his presence on the ranch presented him with a unique secondary opportunity. If he could find a way to seriously weaken the Soul Gatherers, it would only smooth his way back to the Great Lord’s right hand.
Azazel let his gaze wander the grounds, mentally noting the purpose of each building. House, garage, arena … He paused. A simple wooden structure was visible through the trees to his left, gently releasing thin ribbons of woodsmoke into the air from a metal chimney. An old-fashioned forge, if his eyes didn’t betray him.
Where the mage crafted the Soul Gatherer weapons.
Azazel smiled.
Swordsmithing was an art he knew well, having been the tarnished soul who introduced mankind to war several millennia ago. All he needed to do was breathe on the coals to coat them in demonic purpose. Then the next time they were stoked into hot flame, fatal flaws would be injected into the process. Flaws that wouldn’t be noticeable until the moment the weapon failed.
Crossing the grass to the small copse, he wended through the tree trunks, keeping to the darker shadows, until he could see inside the open doors of the building. It was empty. An impressive array of hammers and tongs hung on the walls, each neatly in its place. The blower was off and the coal tray in the hearth sat untended, slowly cooling. No half-worked item lay across the anvil; no sword stood clamped in the vise.
He glanced at the closed curtains of a nearby tip-out trailer. No sign of activity at all. It would seem to be a perfect time to—
“Stefan?”
Azazel pulled back sharply, hugging the tree trunk.
It was the girl. Emily. Striding up the gravel path from her stepfather’s house.
He held his breath.
If she reached out with her senses, she would almost assuredly spot him. Yes, he still wore the glamour of Ryuji Watanabe, but that wouldn’t protect him. The Japanese businessman had no cause to be visiting the mage. He’d be forced to mutter some stupid excuse that did not match the man’s intelligence. Questions would be raised. Plus, the more he bumped into the Trinity Soul, the more likely it became that she would see past the edges of his identity cloak.
He did his best to become one with the tree.
“Stefan, I know you’re in there,” Emily said, reaching the trailer. She pounded her fist against the thin metal door. “I need some help with a fire containment spell. Come on. Let me in.”
There was no response from the trailer.
“You’re being a jerk.” Face screwed up with determination, Emily circled around to the big bay window and tapped. “I’m not going to go away until you let me in.”
Now out of clear view, Azazel took a careful step back, avoiding twigs and dried leaves. Better to return after dark, when Emily was indoors with her newly expanded family. He retreated another step. And another.
“You know, I could pop in there if I wanted to,” Emily said, her voice muffled by the trees. “Don’t make me break Brian’s privacy rules.”
Confident that he’d withdrawn far enough not to catch her attention, he turned and cut through the trees toward the ranch house. With Emily accounted for, now might be a good time to search Kiyoko’s room. Assuming she wasn’t entertaining Murdoch there.
He frowned.
Human women had once found him irresistible. Was Kiyoko’s fascination with Murdoch an oddity, or a sign that he had lost his touch? He
had
lingered in the between for ages before gaining enough strength to rebuild his physical form. Was it possible his allure had been diminished by the wait?
had
lingered in the between for ages before gaining enough strength to rebuild his physical form. Was it possible his allure had been diminished by the wait?
He certainly hoped not.
16
“Y
ou can’t be serious.” Murdoch stared at Kiyoko, hoping to spot a glimmer of a smile. But there was nothing but resolve on her pretty face. “You plan to rouse my berserker, leverage its energy, and transcend to a higher plane of existence.”
ou can’t be serious.” Murdoch stared at Kiyoko, hoping to spot a glimmer of a smile. But there was nothing but resolve on her pretty face. “You plan to rouse my berserker, leverage its energy, and transcend to a higher plane of existence.”
“Yes.”
He shot to his feet. “Well, you must have lost your bloody mind, because that’s not a plan. That’s suicide.”
“It’s risky,” she agreed. “But not impossible.”
He glared at her. “Listen to yourself. You sound like a madwoman. Sora has filled your head with absolute nonsense—this transcending thing is bullshit. There’s only life and death. There’s no middle ground. Believe me, I’ve seen enough of death to know.”
“Then how do you explain the existence of Soul Gatherers?”
“It’s like a stay of execution. Temporary.”
“But it’s also proof that a middle ground exists.” She rose, too, and touched his sleeve. “Think, too, about the pagan gods. You say that they exist, yet they do not reside here on the middle plane with us. Nor do I believe they dwell in the places you call heaven and hell.”
“Do you seriously equate yourself with a god?”
She shook her head. “No. I’m just disputing your assertion that there are no other planes beyond the three that you know. The transcendence ritual enables me to hide my soul in one of those other planes, thus preventing Death from claiming it.”
Murdoch sighed. “Fine. Let’s leave the concept of this other plane of existence alone for a moment. You still intend to get there by rousing the berserker. What part of being crushed to death did you miss?”
“That was an accident.”
“Accidents are a regular event around the beast,” Murdoch said. “He’s uncontrollable.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“Did I not just recite the tale of my lamentable past? The one where I killed a lass for no other reason than that she stood between me and the man I meant to kill?”
“Yes. But I am not a helpless damsel. And you are not the same man you once were.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “Any control I purport to have is tenuous at best. All it takes is the right level of danger and I’m lost. I won’t allow the berserker to surface around you again. I can’t.”
“Would you rather see me die?”
He rounded on her. “Of course not. But you don’t need to do this. The Veil is still keeping you alive.”
She nodded. “I believe I have a few months before my ability to draw from it is gone completely. I can live day by day, slowly growing weaker, until I wither away, gasping for my last breath. Or I can fight. Use my current health to good advantage, risk it all, and make a genuine bid to be whole again. Which would you choose, Murdoch?”
That was an easy answer.
But risking
his
life was very different from risking Kiyoko’s. “I still believe Stefan can help. He’s being difficult at the moment, I acknowledge that, but he’ll come around.” He snatched the tartan blanket off the ground and stuffed it into the knapsack. “I’ll
make
him come around.”
his
life was very different from risking Kiyoko’s. “I still believe Stefan can help. He’s being difficult at the moment, I acknowledge that, but he’ll come around.” He snatched the tartan blanket off the ground and stuffed it into the knapsack. “I’ll
make
him come around.”
“Time is against us,” she said softly.
“We have several months.”
“No, we don’t. I need a minimum core strength to even attempt the transcendence. Every day my body absorbs less and less of the Veil’s power, and because the ritual can be performed only on specific dates, we will soon reach a point where the decision will be made for me.”
He grimaced. “How much time are we talking?”
“There are six auspicious days between now and the end of December. Beyond that, Sora-sensei says the chances of success are poor.”
Six chances to save her life, then game over. No pressure at all. “When is the first one?”
Her head bent. “Monday.”
He stared at her. “You were going to try it without telling me, weren’t you?”
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