The Turquoise Tower (Revenant Wyrd Book 6) (38 page)

Jovian’s eyes caught sight of one figure, who paced back and forth before the temple, and another that stood on the platform before the giant arching doors.

“Who are they?” Shelara asked.

“That one is Cianna,” Joya said with certainty.

“It can’t be,” Angelica said. “She has black wings.”

They all turned to look at Joya.

“When I dreamed of the Turquoise Tower, Cianna shared my dream. In the dream she had black wings. We both knew it, but we didn’t say anything. For some reason it was like she had black wings, but at the same time she didn’t?” Joya sounded confused.

“Well, I don’t like the feel that’s coming from that one,” Russel said.

“I agree,” Jovian said.

Without any further words, Caldamron started down the switchback trail that led out of the mountains and to the battlefield below. The further they traveled, the stronger the malignant feel of the tower became. The groo had already carried them into the foothills and most of the way down to the battlefield, and long before Jovian wished, they were standing at the edge of the field.

Cianna must have seen them coming, because she stopped her pacing and turned to face in their direction. Jovian wasn’t sure how he knew she was facing in their direction since he could barely see her, but he could feel her eyes on him all the same.

His attention was drawn overhead when he heard a great flapping of wings. Looking up, he saw a handful of black wings and white wings racing back toward the tower. A fallen angel was dashed against the top of the tower, and fell limply toward the figure in the doorway. A flash of silver light blasted from the figure, and the fallen was pushed aside, landing brokenly beside it.

Jovian rubbed his palms against his legs and turned to Maeven. Overhead, more and more angels were gathering, and there they were fighting, lashing out with wyrd and with weapons, raining blood and wyrd down around the battlefield.

“Stay here,” Jovian said, desperation in his voice. “I know you’re going to fight me on this, but it would be best if you stayed here. You don’t have any power over them, and there’s no way you can hope to overcome them. Please, just promise—”

Maeven silenced him with a kiss. He pulled Jovian in tightly, nearly crushing all breath from his lungs. Jovian could feel the need and the sorrow in that one kiss. When he pulled away, Maeven was looking deep into his eyes.

“I will stay here, but you need to come back to me,” Maeven said. Jovian was surprised the other man had relented so easily.

“I have a better chance of returning now that I don’t have to worry about you being in danger,” Jovian said.

“You’d better go,” Maeven said, now looking at the temple. Jovian followed his gaze and saw that the Turquoise Tower was starting to glow. It knew they were there, and at any moment it would ignite and chase away all of their humanity.

Jovian leaned up and kissed Maeven one last time, reluctant to leave him. When he did pull his body from Maeven’s he felt a coldness steal over him, as if he had already lost him. He dashed away tears and stepped up beside Angelica and Joya, where they were standing facing the temple.

Angelica’s hand sought out Jovian’s, and he gripped her hand tightly, as if it was his only tether to land in a frightful sea. On his other side Joya twined her fingers with his. There was strength in Joya’s grip, and confidence. She was faring better than Jovian was.

Together they all stepped out onto the bloodied ground. From the sky, blood began to rain down, and the first sound of thunder reached their ears. Lightning arced overhead, striking at the angels amassed in the sky, and as smoldering bodies began to fall down around them, the smell of burning flesh drifted to his nose and tortured screams intruded upon his hearing.

The tower was warming up with an audible moan. When the first blast took them, Jovian knew true pain.

His very soul seemed aflame. He collapsed to the ground, his hands never leaving those of his sisters. With each pulse of light from the temple, mind-numbing pain tore through his body. The muscles and bones of his back tore apart, reformed, and healed around a growing mass in his flesh. With the last pulse of light, great membranous wings ripped from his back, raining blood and flesh around him.

Jovian fell face-first into the bloodied mud, no longer feeling what was happening with his wings. At some point his mind had stopped registering pain, and he knew only the true relaxation that agony can bring.

He felt power infuse his being, chasing away the frailty of his humanity. Finally, minutes or hours later, he pushed to his feet and spread his wings wide. He had worried that when his humanity was gone that only Sylvie would remain, but that wasn’t true. He saw the error of his ways now. With his humanity erased, Jovian could feel Sylvie inside of him as he might have before felt his heart beating. There were no longer any walls keeping them separate. He could feel how she was a part of him as much as he was part of her inside this vessel.

Angelica stood next, and he smiled at her, knowing she felt the same thing as he did. For the first time the doom and horror he felt swooping up before them was lessened. There might actually be a chance now.

Joya brushed the mud off her knees, though it only accomplished spreading the gore further into the fabric of her brown trousers. Behind them Jovian was aware of Russel pushing to his feet as well.

And then the air went silent, and Jovian could feel eyes upon him. Around them blood continued to rain down out of a poisoned sky, but all of the legion and host above were gazing down at them, watching the rebirth of the children of Sylvie LaFaye. The skies opened up, parting through the rain, and a single shaft of silvery light illuminated the three of them. From the opening in the heavens, the sound of trumpets pealed over the lands.

The noise of the music filled Jovian with power, and he once more took Joya and Angelica’s hands, stepping further onto the battlefield. Around them the angels began to land, the white wings bowing while the black wings hissed at them, jeering them on, pushing them toward the tower.

Slowly Jovian walked, not allowing the legion to bother him.

Joya, on the other hand, lashed out with her wyrd, a pure pulse of fury slicing through the gathered white wings. The wyrd was bright, white, and apparently the purelight Russel had theorized about.

“The power of an angel,” Joya said, looking at her offending hand. “All it took was allowing the angel side in.”

But with her attack, the black wings took arms and converged on them. The legion was equally matched by the host, and around the four of them grew an honor guard of white wings. Pulses of radiant light accosted their vision from time to time, pushing back the black wings.

But just as there were bursts of purelight around the group, so too were there bursts of darklight, opening gaps in their protective barrier when an angel was smote beyond the Black Gates.

The legion tried making their way in when there was a weakness, but the heirs of Sylvie were ready, waiting with a bolt of purelight to take out the aberrant fallen angel.

And then, finally, their honor guard opened up. Before them were the stairs of the Turquoise Tower, and the retreating form of a silver-haired woman, slipping inside the temple.

“Porillon,” Angelica said, racing up the stairs after her. The fallen allowed Angelica to go, and Jovian followed closely on her heels.

Joya started up after Jovian, but a figure streaked out of the sky, lifted her up, and threw her toward the other side of the field. As the doors of the tower were closing shut behind Jovian he saw the face of his cousin sneering back at him from where she rested on the top step.

Cianna’s eyes were black with Chaos.

Before them stood an unyielding wall, a hallway stretching out on either side, bending out of sight. To the left Jovian just saw the shifting retreat of a shadow. He tugged on Angelica’s hand, pointed, and loosened the shin-buto in its sheath.

Blood from the rain pooled beneath their feet as they made their way down the hallway, constantly pulled on by the sight of the shadow slowly stalking away from them, as if it knew they followed and it didn’t care.

Around and around they went, chasing after the shadow that he knew to be Porillon. He could feel it in his blood as one was only able to feel the one who had killed them. His vengeance pulled him on, fueled his feet.

There was more to it than simply Jovian’s anger. He could feel Sylvie’s wrath building inside of him as well. This was the woman whom Sylvie had searched for and had never been able to find. This was the woman who betrayed Pharoh and Sylvie, resulting in their downfall.

The shin-buto would bathe in her blood.

Finally the constant spiral of the tower’s interior opened onto a central room. It was circular, with a turquoise altar sitting in the center. There were no adornments, but the room was bathed in silver light. Jovian looked up to see an opening, like two great wings, high above him, shining down a light that he knew didn’t exist outside the walls of the tower. It was as if the opening in the top of the tower showed straight into the Ever After.

Porillon was standing in the center of the room, her hands clasped at her waist, a slight smile on her face. She looked much the same as she had before, with long silver hair cascading around her down to her ankles. The blue tattoos on her face writhed with wyrd, casting cerulean light around her shoulders and chest. She was dressed regally in flowing purple robes, her body adorned with golden jewelry.

Jovian instantly drew his sword and neared her. She held up a finger to stall him. The scar on his face bloomed with pain, with the memory of the grigori who had marred him.

“Good evening,” she said lightly, as if she were greeting old friends, but in spite of her friendly demeanor the movement of the blue markings on her face told them she was channeling wyrd to use against them.

Outside the heavens boomed loudly, but the silver light issuing through the opening stayed strong.

Jovian pointed the sword at her, and then gestured to himself with the thumb of his free hand. “You and I, we have a score to settle.”

She quirked an eyebrow in amusement, half hiding the laugh that came to her lips. “Indeed we do.” Porillon said. She threw her arms wide, and Angelica and Jovian were tossed to either side of the room, pinned in place by twisting tangles of wyrd from her hands.

Angelica reached for her blade, but Porillon began to laugh, and the hilt grew hot, burning Angelica’s flesh. Angelica cried out in pain.

“I’ve told you before, no weapon will kill me!” Porillon said in a singsong voice. “Even more now that my master has bestowed upon me a gift!” She tossed her head to the side and Jovian could see the bruises of twin puncture wounds in her throat.

“The rephaim?” Jovian asked, his thoughts consumed with Maeven.

“That’s right. It appears there’s more than one way to make a half-angel,” Porillon said. “I bet you didn’t know that when your little friend was bitten?”

“Where are your wings?” Angelica asked.

Porillon just looked at her.

“Oh, I get it,
just
a half-breed,” Jovian said. “You are tainted, impure. Still not worthy of your master.”

Porillon growled, and with the force of her mind another tendril of wyrd snaked out and tightened around Jovian’s throat. “I will have your life for that!”

But Angelica lashed out at her with a bolt of purelight, taking the sorceress in the chest and flipping her end over end over the top of the altar, where she fell unceremoniously in a tangled heap of purple velvet and silver hair.

Jovian fell to the ground coughing, but wasted no time rounding the altar on Porillon. Angelica drew her sword and rounded the other side. Porillon stood, but before she could dust herself off, Jovian and Angelica were swinging their swords at her.

The sorceress held up her arms and the shin-buto blades clanged against her flesh as if they had met armor. With a burst of wyrd she pushed them aside, fire issuing from her hands to follow them. Jovian ducked out of the reach of the fire and spun around at Porillon, diving for her feet and taking her down to the ground once more.

Angelica lashed out at her with another bolt of purelight, feeling the thrum of the shin-buto through her body, pumping its power into her wyrd. The purelight slammed into Porillon, dashing her against the wall of the tower.