Authors: Kate Douglas
Crystalfire (34 page)
Alton reached for Ginny’s hand and tugged her close. “I do.” He kissed Ginny and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. “And Willow, for what it’s worth, Taron couldn’t have done it without you, just as I could not have succeeded without Ginny or Dax without Eddy.” He laughed. “In fact, Dax couldn’t have succeeded without you, either, Willow. You were an amazingly effective will-o’-the-wisp.” He glanced around the room. “Imagine Darius fighting demons without Mari, or Dawson without Selyn.”
His father stood up and tugged Gaia to her feet. “Me without your mother.”
Taron tugged Willow’s hand and she settled in his lap once again. He glanced at the others in the room and realized how many of them were paired, including their new leader and his demigoddess. “He’s right, you know. We all needed our mates beside us, leading us.” He raised his head. “I freely admit that Willow can sneak across a mountainside with much greater stealth than I’ll ever achieve.”
Willow snuggled close and kissed his throat. “Here’s hoping we don’t have to do it again too soon.”
Artigos raised his glass. “To all of you who have fought the good fight—we are at peace because of your efforts. Our children and their children are safe because of you. I raise my glass to Lemuria, to peace, to a future where we can grow and prosper as our ancestors first hoped when they came to this world. In peace, and in sunlight.”
Every glass was lifted, and each one in the room paused before drinking.
“How, Grandfather?”
“A truth that demonkind hid from us all these long years. We exist in a separate dimension. We are inside the volcano, but not really
in the volcano.
It is merely the physical presence we see. Crystal explained it to me.”
in the volcano.
It is merely the physical presence we see. Crystal explained it to me.”
“When we finally got around to talking,” she added.
Taron noticed this time it was Artigos who blushed. “Yes, well ...” he said, then he smiled at the petite woman beside him. “It really is your story. You explain it.”
She glanced at him and then, in a heartbeat, her power seemed to shine through. “You live within caverns because your demonic rulers wanted you here, apart from life-giving sunlight. Demons crave the darkness, but Lemurians thrive beneath the sun. Your island continent exists still, not far from here. The buildings are damaged, the terrain much overgrown, but the land itself is available through portals long closed by demonkind. We should have them open and functioning within the week. Just as you pass between Evergreen and this world, you will be able to step through into the tropical paradise Lemurians left so long ago. It’s going to take a lot of hard work to rebuild, but we are not a static society. Not afraid of work. Not any longer.”
Artigos raised his glass once again. “And now will you toast with me? To our future—our future as a nation and as a people. And most especially to those brave souls who made this happen, to our demonslayers.”
Bumper ran around in circles and barked. Every other soul in the room drank to their leader’s heartfelt salute. As Taron tipped his cup to his lips, he caught Willow’s steady blue-eyed gaze.
I’m not nearly as tired as I was,
he said.
I’m not nearly as tired as I was,
he said.
She laughed. He held her close, and together they dreamed of a future bathed in sunlight beneath blue skies.
Chapter 26
Willow stood just inside the portal to Taron’s apartment and clasped her hands over her belly. For some reason she was nervous as all get out. It didn’t make any sense, not after all she’d been through over the past month, not to mention the past four days.
She wondered if she’d ever adjust to this life, a life she’d never, not in her wildest dreams, imagined. Taron stepped into the room, carrying CrystalFire. They’d gone unarmed to the gathering this morning. Maybe not the smartest move, but it had felt good to be in a room of friends and not be worried about an attack.
Of course, she still had her sparkles, and Dax was armed with ice and fire and other things he said he still hadn’t figured out. And the gods only knew what Crystal could do.
“Come.” Taron grabbed her fingers and tugged her close. “I have something to show you.” He pulled the sword from its scabbard and set the blade on the table. Light glimmered along the faceted surface, rolling up and down in a mesmerizing pattern that Willow figured she’d always find fascinating.
“What?” She ran her fingers along the blade. “CrystalFire? Do you have something to say to us?”
“I do. I have already admitted I erred in underestimating Taron’s skills as a warrior. I saw naught but the philosopher and neglected the strength he hid beneath the skin of a scholar. I made the same mistake with you, Willow of Eden. I saw you as a simple construct, not as a real warrior. I was wrong. You are, in many ways, the best of all of them, brave and fearless.”
She shot a quick glance at Taron. He just sat there and grinned at her. She practically snarled under her breath.
You’re not much help!
You’re not much help!
I love you.
I love you too, but you’re still not much help. What’s this all about?
Just wait.
CrystalFire flashed, a light so bright it brought tears to her eyes and she turned her head away. “What was that?”
“Take a look.”
She stared at the sword, but she was still so blinded by the flash, she saw double. Blinking to focus, Willow looked again.
Still two.
Except, one of them had a blade of brilliant blue.
The same sapphire blue as her blue sparkles. She jerked her head up and stared at Taron, but he was grinning like an idiot.
“You’re not helping,” she said.
Then she looked again and, drawn by a power she couldn’t explain, passed her fingers over the blade.
The blue crystal pulsed with life, inviting her to pick the sword up, to hold it, and watch the light shimmer along its faceted surface.
The silver hilt fit her hand as if it had been made for her. Which, obviously, it had.
“For me?” Wide-eyed, she dragged her gaze away from the perfect sword in her hand and stared at Taron. “But why?”
Taron shook his head. “I don’t know. CrystalFire said he had something for you. I guess this is it.”
She couldn’t speak, couldn’t have explained the feeling she got just holding on to the weapon, but there was a powerful sense that it somehow anchored her, held her to this world in a way nothing else could.
She didn’t merely look like a woman, she was a woman—a woman warrior. A demonslayer. “What’s your name?” she asked, not really expecting an answer. Taron’s blade had taken thousands of years before it finally spoke, so she couldn’t really expect this brand new sword to ...
“I am SunStorm, a blade who will take you into the new future of Lemuria, a new life for you, Willow of the Swamps.”
Willow sat down next to Taron. Hard. But her sword was still talking, a strong, feminine voice that projected power with every word. “From your existence as an element of nature, to your new life as a woman of Lemuria, a life you will live beneath sunshine and storms, I will be your companion. Blessings on you, Willow.”
Taron wrapped an arm around her and hugged her close against his side. “She will be your companion, but I’m going to be your mate. Agreed?”
She carefully set the sword on the table next to CrystalFire, turned in Taron’s arms and cupped his beloved face in her hands. “I’ve been your mate from the moment I first saw you, Taron of Libernus. I love you.”
He leaned over and kissed the end of her nose. “In sickness and in health?”
“In sunshine and shadows, good times and bad times, and all the times in between.” She stood up, took his hand and tugged. The bedroom was just a few short steps away. “No demons to fight, no crisis to deal with. No new world to start building.”
He leaned in close and kissed her. “I guess we’ve got time.”
“All the time in the world.” Hanging tightly to his hand, she followed him into the bedroom. Stopping next to the big bed, she turned to kiss him once again, whispering against his lips.
“I hope you remembered to invite the beast.”
If you enjoyed
CrystalFire
,
see how the DemonSlayers got their start in
CrystalFire
,
see how the DemonSlayers got their start in
DEMONFIRE
Turn the page for a special excerpt!
A Zebra mass-market paperback on sale now!
Sunday night
He struggled out of the darkness, confused, disoriented ... recalling fire and pain and the soothing voices of men he couldn’t see. Voices promising everlasting life, a chance to move beyond hell, beyond all he’d ever known. He remembered his final, fateful decision to take a chance, to search for something else.
For life beyond the hell that was Abyss.
A search that brought him full circle, back to a world of pain—to this world, wherever it might be. He frowned and tried to focus. This body was unfamiliar, the skin unprotected by scales or bone. He’d never been so helpless, so vulnerable.
His chest burned. The demon’s fireshot, while not immediately fatal, would have deadly consequences. Hot blood flowed sluggishly from wounds across his ribs and spread over the filthy stone floor beneath his naked hip. The burn on his chest felt as if it were filled with acid. Struggling for each breath, he raised his head and stared into the glaring yellow eyes of an impossible creature holding him at bay.
Four sharp spears affixed to a long pole were aimed directly at his chest. The thing had already stabbed him once, and the bleeding holes in his side hurt like the blazes. With a heartfelt groan, Dax tried to rise, but he had no strength left.
He fell back against the cold stones, and his world faded once more to black.
“You’re effing kidding me! I leave for one frickin’ weekend, and all hell breaks loose. You’re positive? Old Mrs. Abernathy really thinks it ate her cat?” Eddy Marks took another sip of her iced caffé mocha whip and stared at Ginny. “Lord, I hope my father hasn’t heard about it. He’ll blame it on the Lemurians.”
Ginny laughed so hard she almost snorted her latte. “Your dad’s not still hung up on that silly legend, is he? Like there’s really an advanced society of humanoids living inside Mount Shasta? I don’t think so.”
“Don’t try and tell Dad they don’t exist. He’s convinced he actually saw one of their golden castles in the moonlight. Of course, it was gone by morning.” Eddy frowned at Ginny and changed the subject. She was admittedly touchy about her dad’s gullible nature. “Mrs. Abernathy’s not serious, is she?”
“I dunno.” Ginny shook her head. “She was really upset. Enough that she called nine-one-one. I was on dispatch at Shasta Communications that shift and took the call. Shas-com sent an officer out because she was hysterical, not because they actually believed Mr. Pollard’s ceramic garden gnome ate Twinkles.” Ginny ran her finger around the inside of her cup, chasing the last drops of her iced latte. “I heard there was an awful lot of blood on her back deck, along with tufts of suspiciously Twinkles-colored hair.”
“Probably a coyote or a fox.” Eddy finished the last of her drink and wished she’d had a shot of brandy to add to it. It would have been the perfect finish to the first vacation she’d had in months—two glorious days hiking and camping on Mount Shasta with only her dog for company ... and not a single killer garden gnome in sight. She grinned at Ginny. “Killer garden gnomes aren’t usually a major threat around here.”
Ginny laughed. “Generally, no. Lemurians either, in spite of what your dad and half the tourists think, but for once, Eddy, don’t be such a stick in the mud. Let your imagination go a little.”
“What? And start spouting off about Lemurians? I don’t think so. Someone has to be the grown-up! So what else happened while I was out communing with nature?”
“Well ... it might have been the full moon, but there was a report that the one remaining stone gargoyle launched itself off the northwest corner of the old library building, circled the downtown area, and flew away into the night. And ...” Ginny paused dramatically, “... another that the bronze statue of General Humphreys and his horse trotted out of the park. I didn’t check on the gargoyle, but I went down to see the statue. It’s not there. Looks like it walked right off the pedestal. That thing weighs over two tons.” She set her empty cup down, folded her arms, and, with one dark eyebrow raised, stared at Eddy.
“A big bronze statue like that would bring in a pretty penny at the recyclers. Somebody probably hauled it off with a truck, but it’s a great visual, isn’t it?” Eddy leaned back in her chair. “I can just see that big horse with the general, sword held high and covered in pigeon poop, trotting along Front Street. Maybe a little detour through the cemetery.”
“Is it worth a story by ace reporter Edwina Marks?”
Eddy glared at her. “Do not call me Edwina.” She ran her finger through the condensation on the scarred wooden table top before looking up at Ginny and grinning. “Maybe a column about weird rumors and how they get started. I’ll cite you as Ground Zero, but I doubt it’s cutting edge enough for the front page of the
Record
.”
Record
.”
Ginny grabbed her purse and pulled out a lipstick. “Yeah, like that rag’s going to cover real news.”
“Hey, we do our best, and we stay away from the tabloid stuff—you know, the garbage you like to read?” Laughing, Eddy stood up. “Well, I’m always complaining that nothing exciting ever happens around here. I guess flying gargoyles, runaway statues, and killer garden gnomes are better than nothing.” She tossed some change on the table for a tip and waved at the girl working behind the counter. “Gotta go, Gin. I need to get home. Have to let Bumper out.”
“Bumper? Who’s that? Don’t tell me you brought home another homeless mutt from the shelter.”
“And if I did?”
Ginny waved the lipstick at her like a pointer. “Eddy, the last time you had to give up a fostered pup, you bawled for a week. Why do you do this to yourself?”
She’d be lucky if she only bawled for a week when it was time for Bumper to leave. They’d bonded almost immediately, but she really didn’t want a dog. Not for keeps. “They were gonna put her down if no one took her,” she mumbled.
Ginny shook her head. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. One of these days you’re going to take in a stray that’ll really break your heart.”
Eddy heard Bumper when she was still half a block from home. She’d only left the dog inside the house while she went to town for coffee, but it appeared the walls weren’t thick enough to mute her deep-throated growling and barking.
Thank goodness it wasn’t nine yet. Any later and she’d probably have one of the neighbors filing a complaint. Eddy picked up her pace and ran the last hundred yards home, digging for her house keys as she raced up the front walk. “Bumper, you idiot. I only left you for an hour. I hope you haven’t been going on like this the whole time I’ve been gone.”
She got the key in the lock and swung the front door open. Bumper didn’t even pause to greet her. Instead, she practically knocked Eddy on her butt as she raced out the front door, skidded through the open gate to the side yard, and disappeared around the back of the house.
“Shit. Stupid dog.” Eddy threw her keys in her bag, slung her purse over her shoulder, and took off after the dog. It was almost completely dark away from the street light, and Eddy stumbled on one of the uneven paving stones by the gate. Bumper’s deep bark turned absolutely frantic, accompanied by the added racket from her clawing and scratching at the wooden door to Eddy’s potting shed.
“If you’ve got a skunk cornered in there, you stupid dog, I swear I’m taking you back to the shelter.”
Bumper stopped barking, now that she knew she had Eddy’s attention. She whined and sniffed at the door, still scratching at the rough wood. Eddy fumbled in her bag for her keychain and the miniature flashlight hanging from the ring. The beam was next to worthless, but better than nothing.
She scooted Bumper out of the way with her leg and unlatched the door just enough to peer in through a crack. Bumper whapped her nose against Eddy’s leg. Shoving frantically with her broad head, she tried to force her way inside.
“Get back.” Eddy glared at the dog. Bumper flattened her ears against her curly head and immediately backed off, looking as pathetic as she had last week at the shelter when Eddy’d realized she couldn’t leave a blond pit bull crossed with a standard poodle to the whims of fate.
She aimed her tiny flashlight through the narrow opening. Blinked. Told herself she was really glad she’d been drinking coffee and not that brandy she’d wanted tonight, because otherwise she wouldn’t believe what she saw.
Maybe Mrs. Abernathy wasn’t nuts after all. Eddy grabbed a shovel leaning against the outside wall of the shed and threw the door open wide.
The garden gnome that should have been stationed in the rose garden out in front held a pitchfork in its stubby little hands like a weapon, ready to stab what appeared to be a person lying in the shadows. When the door creaked open, the gnome turned its head, glared at Eddy through yellow eyes, bared unbelievably sharp teeth, and screamed at her like an avenging banshee.
Bumper’s claws scrabbled against the stone pathway. Eddy swung the shovel. The crunch of metal connecting with ceramic seemed unnaturally loud. The scream stopped as the garden gnome shattered into a thousand pieces. The pitchfork clattered to the ground, and a dark, evil-smelling mist gathered in the air above the pile of dust. It swirled a moment and then suddenly whooshed over Eddy’s shoulder and out the open door.
A tiny blue light pulsed and flickered, followed the mist as far as the doorway, and then returned to hover over the figure in the shadows. Bumper paused long enough to sniff the remnants of the garden gnome and growl, before turning her attention to whatever lay on the stone floor. Eddy stared at the shovel in her hands and took one deep breath after another. This was not happening. She
had not seen
a garden gnome in attack mode.
had not seen
a garden gnome in attack mode.
One with glowing yellow eyes and razor-sharp teeth.
Impossible.
Heart pounding, arms and legs shaking, she slowly pivoted in place and focused on whoever it was that Bumper seemed so pleased to see.
The mutt whined, but her curly tail was wagging a million miles a minute. She’d been right about the gnome. Eddy figured she’d have to trust the dog’s instincts about whoever or whatever had found such dubious sanctuary in her potting shed.
Eddy squinted and tried to focus on the flickering light that flitted in the air over Bumper’s head, but it was jerking around so quickly she couldn’t tell what it was. She still had her key ring clutched in her fingers. She wasn’t quite ready to put the shovel down, but she managed to shine the narrow beam of light toward the lump on the floor.
Green light reflected back from Bumper’s eyes. Eddy swung wider with the flashlight. She saw a muscular arm, a thick shoulder, and the broad expanse of a masculine chest. Blood trickled from four perfectly spaced pitchfork-sized holes across the man’s ribs and pooled beneath his body. There appeared to be a deep wound on his chest, though it wasn’t bleeding.
In fact, it looked almost as if it had been cauterized. A burn? Eddy swept the light his full length. Her eyes grew wider with each inch of skin she exposed. He was marked with a colorful tattoo that ran from his thigh, across his groin to his chest, but other than the art, he was naked. Very naked, all the way from his long, narrow feet, up those perfectly formed, hairy legs to ... Eddy quickly jerked the light back toward his head.
When she reached his face, the narrow beam glinted off dark eyes looking directly into hers. Beautiful, soul-searching dark brown eyes shrouded in thick, black lashes. He was gorgeous. Even with a smear of dirt across one cheek and several days’ growth of dark beard, he looked as if he should be on the cover of
People
as the sexiest man alive.
People
as the sexiest man alive.
Breathing hard, her body still shaking from the adrenaline coursing through her system, Eddy dragged herself back to the situation at hand. Whatever it was. He hadn’t said a word. She’d thought he was unconscious. He wasn’t. He was injured. . . not necessarily helpless. She squatted down beside him, and, reassured by Bumper’s acceptance and the fact the man didn’t look strong enough to sit up, much less harm her, Eddy set the shovel aside.
She touched his shoulder and grimaced at the deep wound on his chest, the bloody stab wounds in his side. Made a point not to look below his waist. “What happened? Are you okay? Well, obviously not with all those injuries.” Rattled, she took a deep breath. “Who are you?”
He blinked and turned his head. She quickly tilted the light away from his eyes. “I’m sorry. I ...”
He shook his head. His voice was deep and sort of raspy. “No. It’s all right.” He glanced up at the flickering light dancing overhead, frowned, and then nodded.
She could tell he was in pain, but he took a deep breath and turned his focus back to Eddy.
“I am Dax. Thank you.”
“I’m Eddy. Eddy Marks.” Why she’d felt compelled to give her full name made no sense. None of this did. She couldn’t place his accent, and he wasn’t from around here. She would have recognized any of the locals. She started to rise. “I’ll call nine-one-one. You’re injured.”
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