Dead After Dark by Sherrilyn Kenyon
Where? Trey asked and stuck the key in the ignition.
Your ride will bring you to me.
The truck engine cranked without Trey touching the key. The gearshift moved into place and the Bronco accelerated.
"Why won't you wake up, Rowan?" Sasha sat on the edge of the bed, holding her sister's hand. She could not lose Trey or Rowan when both had just come back into her life.
Lucien strode into the room and placed the palm of his hand over Rowan's forehead. "Something holds her unconscious."
"What can I do?"
"Nothing. In fact, it's probably best that you stay away until we see what state she'll be in when she awakes."
"I'm not leaving her alone." Sasha crossed her arms.
"Go downstairs and rest. I'll stay with her."
Sasha tapped her foot, debating the merits of leaving her sister in the care of a man who Rowan believed hated witches.
"I never said I hated witches," he said with a sexy smile.
"You never said you didn't."
"Point taken, but your sister is safe with me."
His gentle assurance swayed Sasha's decision to relinquish guard over her sister. "Please call me if she needs me."
Downstairs, Sasha paced the house from one end to the other. She stalked off to her bedroom where she dropped to the bed and laid back. Sleep would be impossible tonight, but she'd conserve her strength in case her powers were needed.
Sasha.
She scanned the room. Was that Trey? He sounded far away.
Sasha, I need to tell you something.
She sat up quickly and glanced around. Was he reaching her telepathically? If so, shouldn't she hear it inside her head and not whispering through the room? "Trey, is that you?"
Yes. I'm hurt. I just wanted to say good-bye before I die.
Her heart jumped in her chest. She didn't waste another second debating telepathic properties and ran to her closet to change into nylon pants and a sweatshirt. She yanked her hair into a ponytail and donned boots then paused. Could she trust Rowan to a man Trey clearly did not trust? But Rowan did trust Lucien and Sasha put a lot of stock in her sister's intuitive ability. She prayed she was making the right decision then realized she didn't know where she was going.
"Trey, where are you?" she whispered.
Lying on the steps where we first encountered Vyan.
Piedmont Park. Her throat constricted at the image of Trey dying. She cloaked herself and slipped from the house, then let her Subaru roll down to the street before cranking the engine.
When she reached Piedmont Park fat raindrops pelted the windshield, but she couldn't waste a minute hunting an umbrella.
Sasha raced against sheets of water, sloshing through puddles in the park. She crossed the footbridge over the lake and wrenched to a stop when invisible hands grabbed her arms, lifting her a couple inches off the ground. She began to float forward until she saw Trey facing the Hindu warrior. She opened her mouth to shout but the words vanished from her mind.
Where was that Kujoo warrior hiding? The park was empty. Weariness bled through Trey's soaked body. His muscles ached with the astronomical pull that ruled a Belador's life from controlling a warrior's powers to when the females were fertile.
"I'm waiting for you, Belador."
Trey swiveled around to find Vyan standing at the top of the steps, his long jacket billowing in the wind. A sword the length of Trey's arm hung at Vyan's side.
"Too much blood has been shed in the past by both of our ancestors," Trey started, wishing he had a better argument. "Beladors today are repaying the debt in this lifetime. I have no other way to make up for the sins my ancestors committed."
"Oh, but you do. You have the witch."
"Sasha had nothing to do with the wars between our people."
"A witch is the key to freeing my people." Vyan reached into his pocket and produced the stone. The rock glowed and lightning bolts spiked around them. "Words will not end this conflict. Only one of us will leave victoriously from here."
"Then fight me like a true warrior." Trey opened his arms wide. "I've brought no weapons. Have you no honor?"
Vyan scowled and moved as fast as a flash of light to stand ten feet from Trey. "Do not question my honor. Unlike your people, I never raped and murdered innocent women and children."
"Neither have I. Leave Sasha out of this and I'll give you what you want."
"She will not go with you, Belador." Vyan turned to his left. "Is that not true, witch?"
Trey twisted to his right. Sasha moved toward where they stood, her boots not touching the ground. Her eyes were unfocused as if she didn't recognize him. Water ran down her pasty complexion and plastered her hair to her shoulders and face. Her soaked sweatshirt clung to her trembling body.
No. "Stay back, Sasha."
"Yes," she answered like a zombie before dropping down to stand on the grass. "I will stay with Vyan."
Trey cut his eyes at the Hindu warrior who was obviously using the stone to control her, and going to die painfully if he didn't let her go. He had to get that damn rock.
Vyan turned back to Trey. "You see? I may take her as my own unless Batuk chooses her as his new queen. A witch might better survive the demands of a mighty warrior than the women he's had in the past."
Trey's heartbeat pounded into high gear. Not a smart move when it would only deplete his strength faster, but his control slipped farther away with every poisoned word from Vyan's lips. Trey struggled to hold back in order to prevent a war.
"Watch, Belador. She wants me," Vyan taunted then turned to Sasha who was still twenty feet away. He lifted the rock from his pocket. She began walking toward the Hindu, who raised his sword, pointing it at Sasha's abdomen. "Better yet, watch as she walks into the sword and dies without me striking her. Then I will take her sister, the stronger witch who Ekkbar controls."
When Sasha continued to move toward the sword, Trey lost the ability to think rationally. He lunged at Vyan who shoved the rock into his pocket and blocked Trey with a swing of his thick forearm. Trey stumbled, caught his balance, and shook his head, relieved to see her stop walking. He'd never wanted Sasha to see him in combat, because of what he turned into. But she wasn't cognizant of anything at the moment and his powers were dwindling with each tick of the clock.
Vyan sprinted forward. When Trey would have hit him with a full body slam, the Hindu flipped up in the air, legs churning as he spun over Trey who swung to see the fighter land surefooted. Cramps hit Trey in his midsection. He gritted his teeth against the pain and roared, calling forth his warrior form.
Bones cracked, lengthening. Muscles flexed and pumped, growing his thick body even larger. His hands curved, fingers expanding into thick digits as hard as tempered steel, the sharp tips flashing with electricity.
Vyan shouted in his native tongue. Lightning struck around them, bursting craters the size of a sink in the ground. He tossed off his jacket and wielded his sword. Sparks crackled along the razor edge. He came at Trey, who spun, deflecting the sword. But the Hindu was quick and strong. He swung the weapon with blinding speed.
Trey charged forward. Vyan sliced the air with the sword, turning it flat as he brought the blade shoulder high . . . to take off a man's head. Shoving a hand up, Trey caught the brunt of the attack with his steel fingers. The blade skipped off and sliced him across the chest.
The cut was not deep enough to damage muscle, but his increased heart rate pumped blood furiously through the wound.
"Noooo!" He turned at Sasha's scream. Her eyes were clear and terrified. She struggled to move her legs as if her feet had been anchored to the ground.
"Get out of here, Sasha!"
"She can't."
Trey wheeled back around to the grinning warrior and lost any compassion he might have felt at one time for this man's losses.
"Aid him and I will make his death very slow and painful," Vyan warned her then turned to Trey. "And if you make a move toward her, she goes up i
Thunder vibrated the ground beneath Trey's boots. Pain stabbed his thighs and neck. He was running out of time. Trey fisted his hands, the tips digging into his palms. He stretched his neck and rocked his shoulders back and forth, pumping his forearms. A guttural noise clawed up the inside of his chest and burst out, firing the air around him into a hot blast.
Vyan came at him, slicing that wicked blade with deft efficiency. He turned the blade sideways at the last minute and slammed Trey in the head, knocking him ten feet in the air, bouncing his head on the concrete. The goggles flew from his eyes, yanked away by an unseen force. He rolled face-first into a puddle of water. Mud splattered his eyes. Muscles kinked in his arms. His body began shrinking back to his normal size.
Death crooned to him, offering a quick end to the pain racking his muscles. His chest burned from the gash. Every breath became harder to draw.
Sasha screamed, "Don't you dare die!"
Trey shook his head and opened his eyes to the rain that washed his vision clear. He shoved himself up to his knees, wet hair slapping his face when he lifted his eyes to the Hindu warrior.
"Rise, Belador. I will not kill a man on his knees."
Trey clenched his teeth to contain the scream of pain that shot up his legs as he struggled to his feet. His gaze wavered to where Sasha stood with arms wrapped around her middle, shivering, her beautiful face contorted in agony, crying. He could not fail her.
He took a rasping breath and turned toward Vyan, drawing on what minimal power he had left to attack. But when he stepped forward, his legs almost buckled.
Vyan reacted swiftly, lifting the sword high in an arc intended to strike Trey in the center of his head and split his upper body in half.
The sword began the long descent with Trey powerless to stop the inevitable. Inches from his skull, Vyan went flying backward, landing against a tree and hitting the ground.
Trey stared in shock. What the hell had happened?
Then he felt the presence of another supernatural, more than one. Out of the black sheets of rain slashing through the park, three images took shape. Two men and a female. The men were Beladors he'd fought beside before--Tzader Burke and Quinn Vladimir. The woman stood an easy six feet tall . . . and was an Alterant, a mix of Belador and some other species.
"What are you three doing here?" he croaked out.
"Helping you," Quinn replied, smoothing the water off the top of his blond hair slicked back into a ponytail. Decked out in a sleek black and silver tuxedo, his lean form belonged on a runway somewhere. But the international stock trader had probably come to the park from some shindig in downtown Atlanta. The spectacles covering his eyes had undoubtedly been crafted somewhere like Switzerland, one of a kind.
"Not tonight, Quinn." Trey gasped for air with each breath, his mind foggy. He wanted to go to Sasha, who stood wide-eyed and unharmed so far, but he wouldn't take the risk of her being burned alive. He shot a look at where the warrior had been tossed. Vyan didn't move, which meant nothing. The guy was probably playing possum to assess the new arrivals.
Trey frowned at the trio. "Don't tell me you forgot what tonight is, Tzader."
"Not likely." Tzader couldn't be more different from Quinn if he tried, with his black hair curling and thick on top, buzz cut on the sides. His coffee-brown skin glistened with energy and menace. Twelve-inch knives clipped to each hip would gut anything, living or otherwise. Close inspection of the serrated edges revealed fanged teeth. Not as tall as Trey or Quinn, Tzader's sleeveless shirt stretched to contain a body wrapped in two hundred and twenty-five pounds of badass muscle.
"I'm Evalle Kincaid," the brunette Amazon purred as "eeval." "Unlike the three of you purebreds, my energy is not bleeding out right now. And unlike you, Trey, these two have conserved their powers and energy since midnight. So we need to get busy before your buddy over there regains consciousness." Her designer glasses rested against a pert nose and high cheeks. Her vision must be extremely sensitive for her to shield her eyes behind dark shades at night in a storm.
"No!" Trey argued and paid for the effort with a dagger of pain to his lung. Were they demented? "This isn't a sanctioned battle and I'm not risking all of your lives." Linking with Beladors increased their powers exponentially, but if one died in battle while linked, they all did.
"We all took an oath," Quinn interjected. "What kind of honor would we have if we didn't back you up? And Evalle is right. We need to get to it."
"You can't do this. The penalty will be high." He could only hope Macha would penalize him alone and spare the tribe.
"You don't have a say," Evalle said in a tone that indicated she was bored with the conversation. "When Brina says it's on, it's on. Like I said, the sooner the . . ." She angled her head toward the tree where Vyan had landed and muttered, "Too late, he's rousing. Let's link now."
Brina sent them? Trey couldn't believe it.
Why not, Trey? Brina sounded peeved.
I thought you wouldn't back this battle.
I told you, I protect my tribe. Even hardheaded warriors like you. I'll worry about Macha as soon as you kick this fool's butt back to that giant rock he climbed out from under.
The trio spread out, and Trey began to feel their energy flood his feeble body. He drew one breath, then another, standing taller with each infusion from the linking.
Vyan strolled toward him as if he were unconcerned about the new developments. He pointed a finger at his jacket on the ground and it flew to him. When he had the coat on, he lifted the stone from his coat pocket.
Trey cursed at not thinking to grab the stone.
"You would not have held the stone long, for it chooses its master," Vyan said, obviously snagging Trey's thoughts. He lifted the multicolored rock and murmured foreign words. "Your combined power will not match mine, Beladors." He spit out the last word as if the tribe's name seared his tongue.
The trio moved in, but Trey held up his hand. "I'll fight him alone."
"Let's help your odds," Evalle suggested. All the lights in the park and surrounding areas went out. Trey blinked, not believing his sharp vision.
You have my vision, Evalle said in Trey's mind. The Kujoo can see too, but not with the high-definition optics you now have.
Thanks, Trey sent back, then closed his mind to everything but confronting Vyan.
Vyan came at him, his blade sizzling with electricity along the edge. Trey dodged the first strike, spinning away and searching for a weapon. The thought had barely escaped his mind when he held Tzader's two knives.
The blades actually snarled, fangs extended, when Trey lifted them to brace against Vyan's next strike. The warrior fought with one hand wielding his sword and the other holding the stone that radiated spears of multicolored lights. Bolts of lightning sliced the air around them. Trey blocked charge after charge from Vyan with the knives until he saw a chance to knock the stone loose.
Trey threw one knife, aiming for Vyan's wrist, which supported the stone. The knife bounced away before it reached him. Vyan smiled and pointed the stone at Trey's other hand. His second knife flew out of his palm.
Tzader whistled and both weapons returned to his side.
"Take mine," came an order from behind Trey. He turned to find Lucien who produced a sword from thin air and sent it spinning end over end. Trey caught the weapon; that felt too light to be any good. He glanced at Lucien, who stood next to Sasha. Rowan was beside him wearing a yellow slicker, not looking anything like a witch.
Lucien crossed his arms, grinning. "You two go ahead. I just came to watch."
Which goddess of fate had it in for Trey to stick him with Lucien and his twisted sense of humor? And Rowan who could go airborne and out of control at any minute?
"Bring in a legion of warriors, Belador," Vyan said, waving the stone. "Nothing can stop me with this. When I am done with this one," he called out, pointing at Trey, "I will call forth Ravana who will dispense with the rest of you next."
"Bring
Sasha couldn't believe what she was witnessing. She swiped a clump of wet hair from her face and turned to Rowan. "Can you do anything to help Trey?"
Rowan shook her head, water flicking from the hood of her slicker. "I could make it worse."
Sasha didn't think that was possible. Her heart raced at every move Trey and Vyan made. She had to help Trey somehow. Vyan had warned her not to, but how could he know who sent Trey help with this group present? And where had all these beings come from?
Metal clanged as Vyan attacked and Trey battled back. Trey fought with both hands on his sword, but Vyan didn't even seem winded . . . because of that stone, Sasha realized. He could be beat without the rock. She felt sure of it.
Trey battled Vyan to the edge of the pond that ran beneath the footbridge in the south end of the park. Vyan stumbled once, but bounced up on the balls of his feet as if he just hadn't been paying attention. Trey and Vyan's strikes echoed through the air until Trey missed his step and Vyan's blade sliced so close to his neck Sasha felt light-headed with fear.
Trey roared and shoved up, swinging that sword like a major leaguer with an aluminum baseball bat, driving Vyan backward to the pond.
Sasha saw her chance and began to chant, "Earth, wind, and rain, hear me well. . . ."
Vyan's coat lengthened, dragging the ground as he backed toward a quickly forming mud hole. He stepped on the tail of the coat, arms flailing to keep his balance, but his momentum threw him backward. The stone flew from his hand to the pond, boiling the water as it sank. Within seconds the glow from beneath the surface extinguished.
Five bolts of lightning struck the ground between her and Trey, exploding dirt from the hole it created. Howling preceded a wispy form that rose from the earth and hovered until the smoke cleared, leaving a dark man with Middle Eastern facial structure similar to Vyan's. But this male's eyes were a molten gold with red irises. He bared pointed teeth that dripped blood from the tips. His short hair started growing into lengths that thickened and took the form of serpents, hissing and striking the air around his head.
"Ravana, I have lost the stone," Vyan cried out, scrambling to his feet.
"Do not despair." Ravana pointed his hands at empty spots, and everywhere he directed, a mangle of arms, legs, and battered heads took shape as creatures Sasha had never seen. "They come from Fene and fear nothing since they live in hell's armpit."