Embrace the Desire (5 page)

“Can I help you?” Her voice was soft, compelling, and warm.

“It isn't what you can help me with. It's what I can help you with.” He tried to smile, but failed to manifest it on his face.

She laughed and eagerly looked around the small room. “Where is he?”

“He who?” Varick questioned.

“Gyth.” She answered as if she had known him her entire life. “Isn't he with you?”

Varick shook his head as his skin crawled. He had never witnessed a soul giddy to see Gyth. It almost made him physically ill. He swallowed hard. If he had been human, he was sure he would have vomited. Or worse.

He stood and went to her table. Taking her hands into his. Her eyebrows knitted together making her look even more like Gyth. A female version, shorter and sweeter.

Varick smiled and managed to spit out. “I am related to Gyth, his son, in fact.”

“His son?” Chanta laughed. “He never told me about a son.” Suddenly her face flushed. “You're a Destroyer, aren't you?”

“No. I used to be.” He watched as relief washed over her face.

Varick ran his thumb over her fingers. Instantly, he felt the bond of blood, thick and true, running through her veins. This was his sister.

“Good genes.” Varick laughed, suddenly feeling at ease.

She look confused. “So, what exactly are you doing here?”

“Payne.” Varick stretched his legs out under the table. “Gyth chose him to take you through the Burning. Unfortunately, he is missing.”

Chanta stood, her hands fisting. “What did you say?”

“Payne is the one Gyth has chosen to help you.”

She took a step back.

“Payne . . .? Why does it have to be him?”

“Because he's the best and the strongest.”

Varick waited for a reaction, watched her lift her hand slowly to her lips.

Varick shrugged. “But it seems he's gone AWOL.”

“Good. Maybe he'll stay that way.”

“He obviously already made an impression.”

“You could say that . . . and it left a lot to be desired.”

Seeing the apprehension in her gray eyes, he continued slowly and with as much soft compulsion as he could muster. “Payne may not exactly be Mr. Charm and Personality, but he's a good guy . . . and more importantly, he's strong. Now sit and listen.”

She shook her head. “No. I made up my mind.” Taking another step back, she darted out of his reach. “Gyth can't do that to me. I won't let him. And why would he send you to tell me Payne was missing? Why can't you take me through the Burning?”

She stumbled backwards, her breath catching in her throat as she turned to the door. Her face was pale, her eyes suddenly appearing much too large for her face. With a quick step, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his arms.

“Because I am Varick Ta Farg, I'm descended from Isten, one of the eight gods of creation and so are you.” He swallowed the curse. “You're Gyth's daughter, just as I'm his son.”

Her face paled, her jaw going slack. A second passed and she laughed, rather hysterically. “You're kidding me?”

“No, I don't kid with anyone. He is your father.”

• • •

Chanta's body went still and Varick slowly released her. She followed his lead as he pulled out a chair for her to sit. Without a word or an expression, she sat as he explained in every detail how she was Gyth's daughter and how her mother was an Angel.

For an hour, she listened.

For an hour, she denied everything he was saying.

For an hour, she sat numb to her core as the words from her mother's book came pouring out of a man's mouth who claimed to be her brother. The same man who was claiming Gyth was her father. She wondered silently if she had lost touch with reality and was hallucinating.

Without thinking, she reached across the table and pinched Varick. He knitted his brows together and stopped talking. He felt real.

“I am real.” He laughed as his eyes sparkled.

“I have lost my mind.” She stood. “If you'll excuse me, I think I need some fresh air.”

Varick stood as well and walked with her to the door. “Perhaps what you need is a reality check.”

She turned to him as he took her elbow. Her gasp was lost as purple sparks sucked her into a vortex and spun her straight into time and space. Just as suddenly as she had disappeared, she reappeared inside her small apartment, her books still laying scattered everywhere in her living room.

Varick's voice bounced around the room. “I'll find Payne. He'll take you through your transformation. If you ever have need of me, just say my name.”

“I don't want Payne to help me. I don't want that monster near me.” Chanta screamed as she spun around the room. “Why would I have need of you?”

Varick appeared in the middle of the room facing her. She dropped to her knees.

“You're the daughter of Gyth who rules the Heavens and he has enemies. That means you're going to need protection and lots of it.”

She laughed hysterically. “If he's my father and Payne is the one chosen, I'll need a dagger or a sword. Payne is a demon, a monster.”

“Like I said, he's not going to win a popularity contest any time soon, but he's the best choice.” He started to wonder how she knew of Payne.

“Best choice?” She walked around the room, looked behind the curtains. “Why is my best choice my worst nightmare?”

“Because sister mine, as part of the One Race, you'll have enemies and being Gyth's daughter means you have to let someone who holds the power of the gods in the palm of his hand to take you through the Burning. Payne is the best choice and the strongest of the Destroyers. Not only will I protect what is mine, Payne will too.”

“Sister?” She croaked as tears burned her eyes. “If I'm your sister, where the hell were you when I needed protection? Where the hell were you when I needed someone, when I was all alone? Where the hell was my father and my mother?”

As he vanished, he whispered. “You'll never be alone again.”

In the depths of the Underworld, Charon appeared in Damon's bedroom. His black robes swirling about his booted feet as the sound of dead crunching leaves followed him. Damon sat cross-legged in the floor in front of two mirrors that cast a green light around the room. It was an ordinary scene in the Underworld.

Taking a closer look, Charon saw that Damon sat in the middle of a five-pointed star drawn with blood on the marble floor. A glass bowl was sitting at each point. Charon didn't bother asking what Damon was doing, he already knew.

Each bowl held a
shade
, the spirit of a dead person from when Hades had ruled the Underworld. Damon was using the shades' miseries and woes to feed himself. With the lack of ambrosia, the food that fed god powers, all the gods in the Underworld, had to turn elsewhere for nourishment.

It was the same with the One Race; they, too, had to find nourishment where they could, or over time, a form of psychoses took place. A burning rage would consume them until eventually death was the only option.

Damon smiled, his black lips glistening in the green glow. “I see you have returned.”

“You and I have business to discuss.” Charon lifted the hood of his robe, his face nothing more than a skull with red eyes. “As before, there are bargains to be made.”

Damon raised an eyebrow. “We do have much to discuss. The last time we spoke, you said Varick was Gyth's weakness.” He paused as Charon looked at the woman tied to Damon's bed.

Damon tapped his long fingers on his chin as he narrowed his eyes. When he spoke, the woman groaned, sounded eager. “I have done my research. Why didn't you tell me about Chanta Timbers?”

Charon remained silent as he studied the woman on the bed. She was compliant to Charon's chagrin. Dressed in black leather, she appeared to be perfectly at ease waiting for her master. Charon laughed.

“You asked me to reveal Gyth's weakness.” Charon continued as he watched anger flash across Damon's face, “You didn't specify which one.”

“She's his daughter,” Damon hissed, shattering the large glass bowl at his side. Wails of pain erupted from the shards as he picked up the largest piece and slung it across the black marbled floor. “If I had known she was his daughter, I could have used her to bring Gyth to his knees! I tire of these games.”

Charon's cold laughter echoed around the room, the misery in his tone causing the woman on the bed to groan. “You didn't know and yet you fed from her misery and glorified yourself in her pain.”

A cruel smile lifted the corners of Damon's mouth. “To this day I have not found one such as she. The challenge she gave me was thrilling.”

Damon stood, his long black hair dragging the floor. He went to the mirror. “What happens if I shatter these portals?”

Charon grinned. “Do it, break the mirrors. Once they are broken, you won't have a way to travel to earth and you'll be confined here once more.”

Damon stilled. “Perhaps.” He turned ninety degrees and uncovered another mirror. “Perhaps not.”

The portal Damon uncovered wasn't to earth. It was a one-way ticket straight into the lowest layer of the Heavens.

“Do you desire to speak to the Angels?”

“Who is Chanta's mother?” Damon's question lingered in the air like oil in fire.

Charon turned on his heel. “The information you seek will cost you.”

“She is descended from an Angel, isn't she?” Damon laughed, his eyes glowing red as blood. “Her pure heart is what attracted me to begin with. Her infallible courage and strength beckons me to break her. I want Chanta Timbers.”

Charon paused. So, the snake god desired something. Turning to face Damon, he watched as Damon waved his hand and Chanta's face appeared.

From the folds of his robes, Damon withdrew a soft leather pouch. “I found her when she was eighteen. Alone and scared. She had no idea who or what she was. And neither did I, at first. But the more I became smitten with her, the more I realized just how unique she truly was.”

Remaining quiet as Damon continued, Charon watched as Chanta walked down a dirt path. “I wonder if Gyth thinks about me being with his daughter. Do you think it plagues him to no end that I defiled her with every inch of my body, that I know every inch of hers with the most intimate knowledge?”

Charon stiffened. The books called out to him from the isle, their sudden summon catching him off-guard. “What did you do to her?”

Damon laughed, the sound bloodcurdling to say the least. “Let's just say she'll never forget my face.” A sigh escaped him. “She has such wonderful long nightmares and such heartbreak and loneliness.”

“Why would you do that to her if you were smitten with her?”

Damon looked straight into Charon's eyes. “I realized she was more than just any ordinary member of the One Race. Even that damning emotion that was threatening my insanity didn't stop what had to be done.” Damon's snakes, the ones that crawled out from under his skin, rushed out of his fingers and slithered up his arms dancing wildly to his words. “I won her trust, I won her delicious body, and most of all, I won her heart. And as she was falling in love with me, I revealed my true self.” He threw his head back and slashed his hand through her image. “Love. What a sickening emotion.”

“Love is what makes the world go around. Humans are especially fond of the emotion.”

“It's a weakness. It's a disease that worms through and destroys all sane senses.”

Damon was a monster, a pure bred monster with too many powers and no compassion. His legendary hatred and evil knew no bounds and was the reason he had eventually won the place as king of the Underworld. No matter the species, Damon satisfied himself with the pain of others; he enjoyed it. He especially enjoyed Chanta Timber's pain.

A glint of steel caught Charon's eye as Damon turned back to the mirror. Lodged in his shoulder was a dagger of some sort. It was buried to the hilt and Charon could make out the stain of blood running down the length of his robe. He found another sticking out of Damon's thigh.

Each of the daggers had a five-pointed star, Damon's symbol, etched on the hilts. He wondered. Who had lodged them so deep? Better still, who would want to get that close to him? Why had he allowed someone to do such a thing? And why had he left the daggers where they were?

Damon's voice brought him back to the conversation at hand. “Come now Charon, really, we need to work on your view of the world.”

The demon god waved his black-clawed hand and a female in chains, bound and gagged, appeared at his feet. “This is Lena. She has come to beg for her life. What say you Charon, how would you rather she die?”

Charon narrowed his eyes. The girl's muffled cries pulled his eyes to her face. She was young, less than thirty and very beautiful. On her bare left shoulder, a five-pointed star tattoo glowed in the red haze of the chambers.

“She is one of your witches.” She was also a member of the One Race, but Charon kept that to himself. “She no doubt would give her life to you in a heartbeat.”

“Really? Do you think so?” Damon grinned. “Let us see, shall we?”

He pulled the dagger from his shoulder and cut the strip of cloth from her mouth. She screamed, her terror escalating as Damon took her chin in his clawed fingertips. A hiss of pleasure wilted across the chamber as he bent to one knee and kissed the girl on her still screaming lips.

The woman on the bed remained calm, waiting.

Charon watched as one of Damon's snakes slithered out of his mouth and forced its way down the girl's throat. Her body jerked, her eyes rolling back into her head. Damon took the woman's head in his large hands and pulled the snake out of her mouth. The snake curled around his bicep hissing with blood dripping from its fangs.

Damon stood as the slumped body of the woman hit the floor. He turned on his heel and made his way across the room to a chair that sat by his bed. “Tell me, what kind of bargain do you want to make this time?”