Blood Shadows (28 page)

Noiro lay flat against the cold stone floor, too close to death to even tremble or respond.

Ademordna kicked her hard in the side, breaking several ribs as well as her back. “From this day forward, you will stay away from the wizard; do you hear me? You are not to attend his torture sessions—you are not even to speak his name!”

Noiro tried to nod her head but was too weak to do it.

Turning to glare at Nachari, Ademordna paused for a moment, and the wizard wondered if he hadn’t just inhaled his own last breath. And then, the demon pointed at the pile of meat that used to be Suirauqa and spat in the center of the pile. “And that’s what you get, Witch, for touching what was mine.” Regarding Noiro one last time, he hissed, “Clean up this mess, then get out of my captive’s room. And don’t ever come back!”

The door shook on its hinges as Ademordna stormed out of the chamber.

Waiting just long enough to ensure that the demon lord was not coming back, Nachari rose from the bed, walked slowly toward the broken demoness on the floor, and crouched in front of her. “My lover,” he whispered, pouring every ounce of contrived compassion he could muster into his voice, “are you okay?” He knew his next action would cost him dearly, spiritually, but it had to be done.

Times were desperate.

He bent to her mouth, parted his lips, and exhaled his own pure essence into her mouth.

As she took what he offered, their breath mixed, and it assailed him like maggots and worms, crawling up his airway into his nostrils, before squirming inside of his brain. When at last Noiro had enough essence to maintain consciousness, she pulled herself into a sitting position. “You give me your pure soul, Wizard?”

“Shh.” Nachari placed his finger over her lips to silence her. “Listen to me carefully, Noiro. Ademordna will never allow you to carry the child you wish to create…with me. He would never have allowed it before today.” He braced her body with his arm and began to rub gentle circles along her broken back, willing it to heal. “But you were right all along: Our son will be more powerful than even the Supreme Ruler of the Middle Kingdom himself. He will have the powers of darkness and light. He will have the speed and cunning of the Vampyr and the sorcery and skill of the Demon. He will weave spells like a wizard and rule souls like a deity. He will have my beauty and your…savvy. You must not allow Ademordna to stop us now.”

Noiro looked at him with shocked incredulity. “Why do you say this now, Wizard?” She clearly distrusted his words.

Nachari shook his head. “Come on, Noiro. You are smarter than this. Do you think I don’t hunger for retribution—thirst for revenge? Do you think I have endured all these lashings and beatings, baths in boiling water, without imagining my own rise to power someday? Wanting to dole out my own form of torture to those who have injured me?” As a demon, she would have to believe this to be his true motivation—as a being of pure carnal darkness, she couldn’t conceive that there might be anything in the world worth living for that was greater than hate, power, or vengeance. “Our son can give me the retribution that I seek”—he paused, choosing his next words very carefully—“but like a bastard son banished from his father’s homeland only to return many years later in victory, our child cannot be sired or raised in the Abyss. We must find our own place…on earth…to give life to this dream, to this hunger—so that we may also return one day when we are strong and ready to take back what is ours. The moment you come to me with the remaining talisman, you will have disobeyed Ademordna, and your life will be worthless to him. Just as it is worthless now.” He bent slowly to her ear. “Ademordna did not spare your life, Noiro:
I
saved you with my Magick. And now, you, too, have a secret that could destroy me.”

Noiro blinked several times, her eyes growing wide with disbelief. She thought about his words for a moment, no doubt trying to decipher the different ebbs and flows of energy to discern the truth. And then her expression softened. “You’re telling the truth.”

Nachari smiled. “Yes, Noiro…I am.”

She licked her lips. ”Then…then you are asking—”

“You know exactly what I’m asking: Go to the Southern province and find a scorpion; travel to the West and bring me a spider; complete your tour in the North and provide me with a snake, and don’t come back until you are ready to leave this realm. You only have eight days, Noiro”—he thought of a plausible lie—“eight days before the moon and the sun and the elements of my planet render me too weak to pierce the barrier between our worlds; but if you do this thing before then, I promise, I will open up the portal between this world and the next and take you with me in order to bear a son. You have seen a glimpse of my power; you know I can make it happen. On all that is holy, I swear this to you.”

It was true.

Gods willing, he would open up the portal to the next world, and he would take her with him, and his purpose would indeed be to bear a son…

With Deanna.

Noiro studied his face for a frozen moment. When she finally spoke, she whispered, “Swear it on the name of your god—every word—and offer your immortal soul in exchange for the truth of your words.”

Without hesitation, Nachari grasped her by both shoulders and looked deep in her eyes. “I swear to you on the name of the great god of Celestial light, Perseus, the Victorious Hero, the ruling lord of my birth, my life, and my death: I will open a portal between our worlds and take you with me, Noiro, so that I might sire a son. And if the words I speak are untrue, then I forfeit my immortal soul to the very god whose name I swear by. May he strike me down without mercy for my desecration.”

Noiro stared at him suspiciously—and thank the Celestial lords, she was too beaten, confused, and desperate to really decipher his words.

She finally relented. “If what you say is true, Wizard, then prove it: mate with me now.”

Nachari didn’t cringe…or blink.

Everything he had ever wanted—his life on earth, Braden and his brothers, meeting and claiming his
destiny
—was on the line. Still, he could never betray Deanna in such a way. To one day place his body inside of Deanna’s after being somewhere so vile…so corrupt…first.

It was unthinkable.

Unfathomable.

But what he could do, he would.

Nachari would enter Noiro’s mind, change and erase her perceptions, and implant memories of his own choosing. For the first time since he had arrived in the Valley of Death and Shadows, he had the energetic advantage: Noiro was weak, pliant, and at his mercy. And he was the one with the power.

Thanks to Ademordna’s rage.

Would wonders never cease?

He bent to her mouth, ignoring the spiked teeth and forked tongue that distended to greet him, and pressed his lips to hers, kissing the demon witch like his life depended upon it…because it did.

As he gathered the energy from the magic web he had already spun, he couldn’t help but think,
Oh
yes, he would penetrate
the hideous demoness all
right
, but it wouldn’t be his seed that filled her. He would empty the seeds of Ademordna’s hatred, vengeance, and unyielding rage deep inside of her being—the intention he had captured in a spider’s web during the evil one’s murderous fury—and he would turn every last ounce against the Supreme ruler of the Middle Kingdom himself.

Noiro would not stray from Nachari’s plan—no matter the cost.

She would burn with a pregnant hatred, blister with the need to destroy, up until the very moment the two of them took flight from the evil realm…

Together.

Ademordna had guaranteed it with his rage.

eighteen

The Next Day

Saber knocked on the heavy wooden door just outside Salvatore Nistor’s private lair. When the large, medieval-looking hatch flew open on its own, he strolled in casually. “What’s up, Salvatore,” he said, glancing around the room. While adorned with large antique furnishings, a massive chandelier, and an equally ostentatious iron bed, the lair still reflected its ancient, underground roots: Stalactites hung from the ceiling in naturally occurring formations, and stalagmites sprung forth from the earthen, clay floor, peeking out from beneath dark, random crevices.

“Ah, Saber, so nice to see you.” Salvatore bowed infinitesimally from the waist. “Thank you for coming.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Saber replied, stopping a few feet in front of the aged sorcerer and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I assume Oskar filled you in on the details—what I learned from the redhead during my last visit—so why don’t we cut through the niceties and get straight to the point.”

Salvatore shrugged slowly and smiled languidly, still taking his time. “I rarely rush anything, Saber—it’s just not my style.”

Saber shifted his weight impatiently. “Yeah, well, every second we stand here is another second Nachari Silivasi may be growing stronger—another second his
destiny
is running around Dark Moon Vale, healthy and alive.”

Salvatore declined his head in an understanding gesture. “Indeed,” he drawled. He swept his arm out, gesturing toward a large red sectional, discreetly appointed toward the back of the room in front of a giant flat-screen TV. “Nonetheless, allow me to at least act like a gracious host. Have a seat.”

Saber sauntered over to the large davenport, sat down, and bent his left leg over his right, leaning back into the plush, expensive fabric. From his new vantage point, he could see Salvatore’s enormous iron bed, perched atop a large raised platform, and the bizarre divining cube that sat like a crude relic on the nightstand beside it. The thing gave him the willies; it was glowing like the Northern lights—for all the good it had done them. “Why do you keep that thing, anyways?” Saber asked, unable to help himself.

Salvatore cringed as if the very words spoken aloud might offend the ridiculous object. “Watch yourself, my friend—
darkness
hears…very well.”

Saber raised one eyebrow, watched the cube for any sign of sentience, and shook his head. “Ah’ight—whatever.” He slowly rolled his shoulders. “So, back to Kristina then—or more importantly, our brothers who walk in the sun. What’s next?” Before Salvatore could answer, he leaned forward and added, “Because I have to tell you, I’ve had just about enough of all this
the spy who loved me
crap. Not getting us anywhere in my opinion.”

Salvatore took a seat opposite Saber in a high-backed armchair and sighed. “Agreed. It is definitely time to change tactics.”

Saber’s ears perked up.
Finally.
“And?”

“And you are right, my impatient subject—Nachari and his newly arrived
destiny
are a much more pressing issue.”

Saber nodded, liking where the conversation was going. Well, everything except the part where Salvatore referred to him as his subject—impatient or not. As far as he was concerned, he served the house of Jaegar because it was his home—and the males were his brethren, so to speak—but last he’d checked, he wasn’t anybody’s subject. And never would be. “So, what’s the plan?”

Salvatore folded his hands in his lap and looked off into the distance, considering; and then a wickedly conniving smile curved the corners of his mouth. “No more dilly-dallying around. You will use your connection to Kristina to strike at Deanna.” He met Saber’s eyes and practically purred his next words: “Get Nachari’s
destiny
away from the Silivasis and kill her.” He smiled broadly then. “Is that clear and direct enough for you, Mr. Alexiares?”

Saber licked his bottom lip and chuckled. “Yep. That does it for me.”

“Good.” Salvatore nodded, pleased. “Now then”—he inclined his head toward Saber’s hip pocket, indicating the untraceable cell phone they had programmed for his ongoing dalliance with the redheaded ditz, and raised his shoulders—“there’s no time like the present, correct?”

Saber chuckled, thinking of a plan. “Couldn’t agree more,” he said, removing the cell from his pocket. He pressed a finger to his lips, warning Salvatore to remain quiet, while he retrieved Kristina’s number and hit the dial button.

The phone rang three times before she picked up.

“Hey, baby girl,” he drawled into the phone. “It’s Ramsey—miss me?”

She said something less than ladylike and threatened to hang up.

Saber laughed quietly, careful to keep his voice low and soothing. “Ah now, c’mon, Red, don’t treat me like that—you’re breaking my heart. I told you I would get back to you as soon as I could.” Sensing that the female had probably had enough of his games, he quickly shifted his approach before she could respond adversely—or become angry. “Look, Kristina. I thought about the last time I saw you, and you’re right. I’m an ass. No excuses. I come and go as I please, as if I could care less how things affect you, but you have to know that couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m just rusty, you know? I don’t know how the hell to be with a beautiful woman…so maybe I’m still a little rough around the edges, but it’s got nothin’ to do with you—everything to do with me. And I just need you to be a little patient.”

That seemed to get her attention as she
mmm-hmm’d
him with only a minimal amount of sarcasm and waited to hear what else he had to say.

“So, on that note, I’ve been thinking of a way I could make it up to you—and honestly, about something I think might be meaningful to you.”

“What’s that?” she asked him, her interest finally piqued.

“I want to take you somewhere peaceful…relaxing…to the hot springs by the southern lake, but more than that, I want to help you branch out a little, make some new friends—because, really, isn’t that what’s behind some of the tension that keeps popping up between us? The fact that I can’t be there as often as you deserve…but you still have the need for company?”

The phone went silent, and for a moment, Saber thought she might have hung up. “Baby girl?”

Nothing.

“You still with me?”

She cleared her throat. “Yeah, I’m here. What the hell are you talking about, Ramsey?”