AFamiliarFace (11 page)

She gasped as she evaded another strike. “Where is the war leader?”

“Safe and protected from your interference. The Phrellians aren’t our enemy. They only wanted the useless metals under our sacred ground. The power they would give us, the protection and salvation of our race, cannot be measured in price. Our true enemies are the sorcerers to the east. Your kind,” he sneered, the look not pretty on his scarred but determined face.

“You know, Fenin, Core and I have bonded. You can kill me, but he’ll kill you for it.” He looked disturbed at the news, and she added, “He won’t thank you for serving him to your enemy.”

“Oh really? How do you think we escaped in such large numbers from the last attack? My reasoning with the Phrellians allowed us to live.”

“And your scheming showed them our whereabouts in the first place,” Core growled from a dark corner of the room. He stepped into Mal’s light, holding torn rope. “That you, my loyal friend, my
brother
, could turn traitor wounds me more than you’ll ever know.”

Core bowed his head. Mal saw a tear drop to the ground. But before she could say anything, Core’s true self ascended. The monstrous rage in The Snake scared the hell out of her.

With her, Core had exercised caution and restraint. Even with the Phrellians he’d held onto himself. But with Fenin, he let himself go
completely
. She watched in awe, an echo of his power streaming through her being, as The Snake destroyed Fenin’s true self. In less time than it would have taken Mal to teleport a criminal, Core’s true self devoured Fenin’s snake whole.

She swallowed around the lump of fear in her throat when the snake and Core turned their attention to Fenin.

“I only did what I thought right,” the Talian tried to defend himself.

Mal watched Fenin’s color slowly leech away. The death of his true self seemed to sap his strength. Before long, he wavered on his feet. Core shook his head, his eyes bruised. Then he flashed his teeth and hissed as he advanced on his old friend. The predator within him came to life as he launched himself at Fenin.

Core ripped through the man’s jugular with his teeth and tore his neck out. He spat out blood and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He and The Snake shared a look before the serpent wound itself around Fenin. When The Snake left him, nothing remained. Not Fenin’s clothing, his swords, or his body.

A bright light behind her flashed, and she winced, expecting Core to have to dispatch more of the enemy. To her dismay, she’d done nothing but watch him tear apart his friend. She hadn’t helped him at all. Yet she still couldn’t quite process the violence. Though necessary, it had been so raw, so feral, and so at odds with the pure heart of the man she loved.

“
Kina.
” Core sounded subdued. “Behind you.”

She turned and blinked in surprise at the black door that hadn’t been there a few seconds ago. The knob gleamed, and she waited with baited breath while Core rejoined his true self and returned to her side.

“Let us go.”

Though concerned with Core’s flat voice, she couldn’t let the opportunity slide. She had to return home and finish her old life so she could begin anew. Mallory reached for the door with one hand and with the other latched onto Core. Then she stepped into the same room she’d seen only days ago.

Core’s heartfelt sigh made her blink back tears. She took him in her arms and hugged him tight, wishing she could wrap her arms all the way around him and take away his pain.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“As am I. Fenin was my brother, my friend.”

“Your enemy,” Rattler added from behind them.

Core thrust Mal behind him and turned to face Rattler at the same time. But when his eyes met Rattler’s, he faltered.

“Ratlaharan?” “Rattler?” Core and she said at the same time.

Her boss smiled, sporting a new tongue piercing. “In the flesh.”

* * *

Core couldn’t help it. He wanted to fall to his knees, prostrate before his god. But something about this male Mallory called Rattler felt off. He didn’t trust the gleam in the man’s eyes when they lit on his mate.

“You are Ratlaharan, creator of the Talian.” Core waited, his entire being quaking at not showing his god the proper respect. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling he needed to be on guard.  

“Actually, here I’m Rattler, owner of The Python Palace.” Rattler looked so much like him Core had to force himself not to stare. “Want a tour?”

Rattler walked around them and opened the door. But he didn’t step out into the pleasure house. Instead, he entered an unfamiliar room Core recognized from Mallory’s description.

Rattler smiled. “This, my friend, is The Lounge, a special place for special people.” He winked at Mallory, and Core threw a possessive arm over her shoulder.

“Rattler, tell Core you’re not this deity.” She chuckled. “You, a god? Come on.”

They descended the stairs onto a crowded floor filled with people who resembled Mallory in dress and manner. All had skin in shades of brown and tan. Men and women mingled, no open seduction here, but a good amount of drinking and carousing. A long counter took up the far wall of the large room, what in Core’s world would have been the open sleeping berth. From behind the counter two women gave out glasses of liquid. A deep throbbing noise pounded from a direction off to his right.

“What do you think of my place, Core?” Rattler
asked, his amusement plain.

“Not a place befitting a god,” Core had to admit. “Though it seems entertaining.”

“Sherm!” Mal flew out of his arms toward a large brown man, heavy with muscle. Core growled, automatically reaching for his swords only to realize they were no longer there.

“Check out your new threads,” Rattler murmured and turned to wave at several people.

Coarse clothing covered him from neck to toe. Core stared wide-eyed at his confining trousers and heavy footwear. The shirt he wore looked much like the shirt Mallory had arrived in, though his was black and much larger.

“Don’t worry about Mallory. The big guy she’s hugging is her best friend.” Rattler studied Core, as if weighing his worth.

“Why am I here?” Core had to know.

“Because you needed to see Mallory’s world. And she needed to return.”

Core tensed. “To say her goodbyes, yes.”

Rattler shook his head. “She belongs here with her kind. Just as you belong in Horum Veirus with yours.”

Core snarled, surprising himself. “You will not take back what you gave freely. The woman is mine. I have sacrificed, battled, and will continue to fight for my people for the remainder of my life. But that life is one I will make with Mallory.”

“So you would choose to live here with her rather than with your people, War Leader? You were born to serve, yet you would abandon the Talians in their time of need for your time of pleasure?” Rattler crossed his muscular arms over his chest.

Time seemed to slow as Core thought hard about his answer. To live without Mallory? Or to stay here and help her, loving her, knowing his people would die without him.  

He stared at her, drinking in her joy, her vivacity. She glowed with magic and with the happiness surety afforded. Here, in this place, she was home. And much safer than with him fighting Phrellians day after day.

His heart felt as if it were breaking. For the whole of his life he’d done what was asked of him. He’d lost friend after friend, even Fenin. And for what? To give up the part of him that longed for a semblance of normalcy, of family, for the good of the Talian race?

“Nothing to say, War Leader?”

Core hissed, and several people surrounding them shouted when his Snake started to ascend. At Rattler’s frown, he drew on his discipline to call it back.

“I will not be the cause of Talian destruction.” His heart cracked, and he forced himself to remain stoic. “If I must make a choice, then duty it must be. I would ask, however, that you protect Mallory and see to her happiness. She deserves much more than that for saving so many.” Feeling betrayed by the god he’d spent his life serving, he awaited his answer.

Rattler considered, then nodded. “So be it. Return to The Lounge and use the farthest door on the right. No, Core. Don’t bother saying goodbye. There’s nothing more for you here, brother.” Rattler’s eyes clouded, and in their depths Core recognized a deep sadness. “I’m sorry Core, but if it helps, had you taken her back with you, she would have died there.”

With grief knotting inside him, Core left Rattler and the crowded floor and climbed the stairs. He wouldn’t let his emotions tear him apart. An awful numbness filled him when reached The Lounge and passed through the black door on the right. Identical to the other room, it had a large bed. He sat down on it and placed his head in his hands.    

Chapter Eight

Mal hugged Sherm, excited to introduce him to Core. She couldn’t believe only a few minutes had passed here while days had passed in Core’s world. Must have been some kind of really weird temporal distortion spell, though she’d didn’t know any witch or warlock who’d ever successfully attempted such.

Glancing around, she saw Rattler and Core talking and wondered how her war leader was handling his talk with his god.

Sherm knocked her in the shoulder. “Check that out, Mal. Rattler has a twin brother. Who knew?”

She grinned. “That, Sherm, is the love of my life.”

“Huh?”

“Where’s Sheila? I’d like to get this out at once.”

“Bathroom. Now come on, Mal. You left us four hours ago with aching feet and whiny complaints.”

“Whiny?”

“Sorry, bitchy.” Sherm rolled his eyes. “Then you come downstairs with a big gray guy, who’s the spitting image of Rattler without all the metal. Not to mention this dude’s got hair and a helluva lot of muscle.” Sherm eyed him warily. “How do you know him, anyway?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

He groaned. “One of those magic things, eh?”

She nodded, her mood sobering as she realized she’d probably never see Sherm, Sheila or her parents again. “I’m leaving Newtown, Sherm.”

“About damn time.” He grunted. “Move uptown, near Sheila and me. I know a guy--”

“No, Sherm. I’m
leaving
leaving.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, seeing his confusion transition into gradual understanding.

“Hell. For how long?”

“Probably forever.” She sniffed, consumed with sadness that she might never see her best friend again.

“But why?” He frowned. “If you have the hots for the gray guy, just move him in with you.”

“Apparently it doesn’t work that way.” She didn’t like saying goodbye and knew dragging it out would only make things worse. “Look, I have to leave to be with him. I’m really needed there.” She gave him a watery grin. “They actually thank me when I wipe out a vamp.”

His eyes widened. “Vamps where you’re going? Not too far then.”

She snorted. “I have no idea how far. Or when, or where. You say I spent ten minutes upstairs, but I know it was more like a week in a desert and a jungle.”

He whistled and stared at Rattler. “Wonder exactly who Rattler is, and who he’s really working for.”

“Me too.” She hugged Sherm tightly once more and stepped away. “If I stay to say goodbye to Sheila, I’ll never leave. And I know in my heart this is the right thing for me. I love the big guy, Sherm.”

He studied her for a moment before his lips curled into a smile. “Marriage and all that?”

“Yep. And babies as soon as I can get my hands on him again.”

Sherm blinked, but she caught the sheen in his eyes. “I’m going to miss you, Mallory West.”

“You too,” she said through tears. “I love you, Sherm. Tell Sheila I’ll miss her.”

“Will do.”

She quickly turned and searched for Rattler. She found him across the club chatting with…her parents?

“Mother, Father.”
What the hell are you doing here?

“Mallory.” Her mother stared unblinkingly, her nose twitching as she frowned at the stains on Mal’s cheap shoes. “How distressing to find that this…person…speaks true. You actually
work
here? Serving drinks?”

Wow. Saying goodbye to her parents wouldn’t be so hard after all. “Mom, Dad, I’m leaving.”

As if she hadn’t spoken, her father added, “Aaron has reconsidered his proposal, Mallory. He’d like you to marry him, and he’s willing to overlook your venture into trade.”

“How nice for Aaron. Again, no. Maybe you didn’t hear me before, but I’m leaving town. I won’t be seeing you again, ever.” A small pang of remorse stung, a wave of nostalgia for the once-warm mother who’d wiped her tears and the father who’d taught her her first spell--all long before she’d proven to be such a disappointment. A lowly trade witch, the bane of their existence.

“Fine then,” her mother snapped. “Gregory, let’s go.”

Her father looked down his nose at her. “This is a huge mistake. And one we won’t soon forget.”