Blood Life (31 page)

“Do not bother to assist me. There are not enough of you to make a difference. I’d rather fall fighting alone than having only half of you! Where are the Kriestos? How dare you abandon me!” He had heard nothing from his group of slayers since before Devendra asked him about Lorien. Their silence made him wonder if Lorien was somehow responsible. It hurt him that she had not made herself known to him if she had come back.

Worry marked his face as his thoughts melted into the slightest regret of his pride. Regret for once in all his life—to Fate, to lovers, and to his great love: Lorien.

All the drama centered around Alethea because she now held the all-illusive key Devendra spoke of; but if Lokee lived through the battle, Alethea would still belong to him, and the very same key designed to save the Combined would turn into the one that saved the Kriestos. Alethea was the one thing everything and everyone involved was centered around. The one who stayed in his bed, hating him and wishing for death to take her away from immortal life, and most of all, from Roman and Devendra who failed her when she needed them most.

Lokee pulled in some of the cool, crisp air, but even it seemed to try and reject him. The air fought against his draw of it. No element wished to grant him the least bit of life. To force was all he had left.

He raised his arms and threw his head backward to howl. No movement came in response—his echo ricocheted off the mountaintops surrounding him. He released another, this time at the very top of his powerful lungs. The few birds that remained in nearby trees took flight.

“You haven’t the right to judge me,” he cried out to the emptiness. “You have no right to choose my destiny! You, our Mother, have no right! You yourself are damned!”

His breath was labored and his voice became hoarse from the strain. “You have no superiority over other Gods and Goddesses! With the Kriestos by my side, I can beat you!” He spit out the words in a growing frenzy. He waved a clenched fist in the air. “I will find a way, and then we will judge you!” He fell to his hands and knees as dark clouds swept in and blocked out the glistening moon.

“I will find a way,” he swore. “Then I will judge you! Judgment long over due for the pain and rejection you have made me suffer. I blame you!” He shut his eyes tight, swallowing the remaining wrath.

The wind picked up even more and the sky fell completely black. Thunderclouds rumbled and lightening lashed out across the sky. A downpour of rain tried to drown him as mud surfaced, pulling him down into the Earth. He picked his face up from the ground, ripping his arms and legs out of the mud.

“You wish it were so easy!” he declared, and set out for his fort.

“In the time of darkest defeat, victory may be nearest.”

–William McKinley

Forty Four

Weeks passed from the time Lokee had embedded Alethea’s womb with his seed. She had slowly stopped fighting his advances to avoid the beatings. He was stronger than she was, and he always would be. As long as she was there, she was his prisoner. There was nothing else she could do, and feeling nothing inside except hate and resentment toward everyone and everything, she had decided to do a 180 on the situation, to which Lokee was very pleased.

Alethea had taught herself a trick that could get her through the remainder of the trauma. She learned to conjure enough focus to tap into her vampyric skills and successfully cloak her thoughts.

Inside, she prayed for rescue, but even with a glint of hope, she remembered the torture she had endured, and nothing, not even her new trick, could save her from that. The reminder grew by the moment inside her. The only way to find any kind of peace, any salvation at all, would be to join her captor—allow the treatment, encourage it even. At least then he wouldn’t hurt her anymore.

She was sour.

Waking from her daily nap, Alethea stretched her naked body along the bed lazily, like a cat as Lokee entered her room.

Lifting her head, letting her eyelids rise slowly, Alethea pushed herself up and back against the headboard, and to her own surprise, smiled at him seductively. Each time he came to her, she grew stronger in her actions. She pretended to see him in a different light. His fertilized seed had spoiled her, so why should she care about her body anymore? Perhaps she could abort the fetus by persuading him to take her roughly again.

She made herself want him. Not him, but his sex. Sex could be used as her release, and although Lokee’s sex had been rough and against her will, she felt that if she could control it, she could endure it, and if she could bring herself to do that, she could make it through anything else he threw at her.

Lokee sat beside her, gleaming with her sudden acceptance of him, caring not that it was peculiar. She fell into his arms, willing herself to smell Roman’s familiar scent. It worked for a few moments, but Lokee rubbed the inside of her thighs, causing the mirage to fade. Alethea found her magic to be strong, but not strong enough. Appalled, she pushed herself away from him harshly.

“What?” Lokee growled. “You were hot a minute ago, begging for me. What happened?” He held his hands up in frustration, glaring at her.

Easy, girl. Easy. You’ve still got it. Just focus.

Shivering and confused, she reasoned it to be Lokee’s interference that weakened her magic. He must have sensed her deception, but he wasn’t angry with her. Her head ached.

“What is it,” he cooed, reaching out to her face. She turned away from him, her right hand rising slowly to her head, as if cutting through wind gusts. Her body felt invaded. Invisible tendrils prodded at her arms and legs.

Yes, this was Lokee’s work. Her ability to think, which was not working as sharply as it usually did, comforted her. She was able to fight his magic with her own. She was learning, and she was on to him.

Gathering her strength into a pool of calm rage, she lowered her hand and looked under her eyelashes at the man sitting next to her. “You want to play?”

Grinning at her playfulness, Lokee moved in closer. “What do you mean?”

Vengeance!

All at once, the invasion was gone. The presence vanished as quickly as it appeared, leaving Alethea in a stupor from the fierce struggle to retain self-control. Her thoughts ran wildly and Lokee mumbled outside her attention span.

Disoriented by the rapid change in her space, her thoughts turned to the babe growing inside her. How Roman and Devendra would try to convince her to abort it. She wondered if she would put up a fight.

No. No more fighting. If she never had to fight again, she might live the rest of her eternity somewhat content.

Pulling herself back to the situation at hand, she studied Lokee, unsure of what she would allow herself to enjoy, unsure if she would hate herself later when she had to explain the why to her Roman.

Lokee reached for her, trying to decipher her horrified expression. Pulling up her magic once again, she shook off the fog and quickly cloaked her thoughts.

Without making a true decision in her heart, she lay back against the pillows like a mechanical doll, spreading her legs for him to have her—opening her arms to embrace him. Never opening her eyes again, he took her gently and she submitted. She could fight no more.

“Death is nothing, but to live defeated

and inglorious is to die daily.”

–Napoleon Bonaparte

Forty Five

In the morning, Devendra, still standing by the window, wept.

She wept for the failure to her race; she wept for the failure to her fledglings; and, most of all, she wept for the failure to the Goddess, Lillith, who entrusted this one task to her—this ever important mission to save their world.

Could Devendra provide? No, of course not. As strong as she was, her flaws overpowered her like a ton of bricks when she needed that strength the most. It was, sadly, the story of her life.

Roman made soft rustling sounds in the next room as he rose and mechanically dressed for the day. They would continue their dead-end search for Lokee’s hiding place. Her clever son had covered up his tracks ingeniously, and even the almighty Devendra was unable to blow his cover.

Roman entered the room silently, sitting at the foot of Devendra’s bed, and placed his head in his hands. The search for Alethea was beginning to take its toll on both of them.

Eventually, they knew they would find her, but they also knew full well that every moment that passed would destroy Alethea’s mind more than the last. Lokee held the power to brainwash her completely, which could take them years to reverse, if it proved to be reversible.

There was no telling, according to Roman and Devendra, if she was even breathing anymore; neither of them could tap into her mind. All channels seemed to be clogged or closed off, they weren’t even sure which. But in Alethea’s seclusion with Lokee, they could not deny that death would be a welcomed, blessed thing, compared to what she had undoubtedly undergone in her captivity.

Devendra moved her hands from her temples, after rubbing them to release tension. Taking in a full breath of air, she turned to face Roman. “I found this letter attached to my door this morning,” she said, quietly.

Roman, looked up at her with a start, as if she had woken him from a bad dream. “What does it say?” he asked impatiently.

She walked over to the bed with the letter in her hand and sat down beside him. Clearing her throat softly, she raised the letter into view.