Darkness Unbound (9 page)

This woman reflected the best ancient Egyptian genetics had to offer. Long black hair, beautifully kohled dark eyes, thick lips, and even her simple sheath dress, a
kalasiris
, exemplified modesty and perfection. She radiated a vague power that indicated she had magikal abilities. Yet, she wasn’t a goddess, and she wasn’t human. The last time they met he’d deemed her to be a mix.

He rose. “Why are you here?”

“Pharaoh Djoser.” She bowed respectfully.

Pride and mollified ego warred with distrust. He remained silent, waiting. History dictated whatever plan she offered would have little to do with caring about his successful outcome.

A smile tipped her lips. Beautiful lips he fully appreciated and didn’t doubt she knew how to put to good use. As Pharaoh he would have made her a prized consort.

“You have done well for yourself,” she said, glancing around.

He sneered at the obsequious statement. This hellhole didn’t hold a candle to the palace of his glory days.

She sauntered toward the open window.

“I have no interest in anything you offer.” He wanted to sit and resume his Internet search. But he didn’t trust anything about her presence since he had no clue exactly what she was or who she represented. Therefore, he remained standing.

“I have yet to reveal why I am here.” She glanced over her shoulder at him, her pose seductive.

“The last time you guaranteed the dragon magus would be easily controlled, and just as easily eliminated. Those were nothing but lies.”

“Ah, but you did not follow my direction. You got greedy. You tried to kill someone other than him, now didn’t you? And he got pissed.” She waved a hand. “That is the past. I am here to offer you a second opportunity for both of us to achieve our ends. A new future with no dragon magus.”

“By implication you suggest the dragon magus might be back.”

“He is…not back in this realm right now. There is much afoot that may bring him here soon.”

Djoser’s mind churned with fury. If there was one bastard in the magus horde that could derail his plans, it was that one.

She chuckled as she moved to the bookshelf near his desk and pretended to peruse titles. “There is only one reason the gods would consider sending him back.” She paused to glance over her shoulder, a sultry move that pulled all her curves into seductive relief. “I hear that you have been…difficult for the magi.”

He had avoided death by magus for over a decade since he was summoned from the Middle Realm. “That magus has been absent for a very long time. The gods do not plan to send him back.”

“Maybe yes. Maybe no. Do you dare take the gamble that I lie?”

Did he?
That magus was not like the others. Stronger. Angrier. Less predictable. “Tell me what you offer.”

“I want you to kill the female magus.”

“There is no female magus.”

“There is now.” She smiled.

“A new magus has been indoctrinated? A woman? Why should I do this?” Going after any magus was a bad plan he wouldn’t pursue again.

“Destroy her, and then you can easily kill the dragon magus.”

Fascinating.
“What do you offer in return this time? I do not believe that destroying this female will gain me more than the anger of the gods and the magi. I have avoided those bastards by not drawing their attention.”

She glided close to him. He backed up a step when her long manicured fingernail reached for his face. She purred. “So distrustful. What do you want most? Why do you seek the Triad of Eternity?”

To end the daemon curse.

Her fingernail slid across the cheek of the borrowed human body. The tingle of her nail’s path lit up his skin. As a daemon in a possessed body the only senses that worked were sight and hearing. No touch, smell, or taste. Yet he felt!

Her soft warm hand cupped his cheek. Sensation flared. Arousal flared within him, reminiscent of that he’d experienced as part of a boomeranged curse involving Shay and the magus Dakar.

Her hands moved down his body to caress his swelling groin. “How long has it been since you felt the release while a mouth was upon you?”

Too fucking long.
He groaned, his mind swamped in sensation he’d not experienced for millennia.

She halted her downward kissing track. “Change your approach. Send the daemons you summon to new venues. No more churches or cathedrals. That will throw off the magi. Exhaust them. Confuse them. Then, you can draw them closer. The female magus is new. So, they may not throw her into daemon duty at first, but if they are spread thin, then you can get to her. Once you have her, do not play with her. I warn you that she is…her ability is not what you expect.” And then the she-demigod’s mouth surrounded him.

****

Astrid awoke as the airplane rolled to a stop near a hangar at a private airport. “Where are we?”

“Scotland. A little stopover for business before heading home.” Ashor touched his head with eyes closed.

“More than one daemon?” Christian asked, resignation lacing his tone.

Ashor nodded. “Three. Spread out. But nearby. We’re going to have to split.” He paused and glanced around. “Khyan, you and Dakar take Nate and go east. I’m seeing an old church and castle ruins near the ocean. Nate, maybe you and Dakar can work on your control.”

Nate yanked up his sword and holstered two handguns before shrugging into a black leather jacket. He scratched his stubble-shadowed angular jawline.

Khyan said, “We’ll find the place. I just hope Nate doesn’t burn down the building.”

Nate glared a squinty-eyed
fuck you.

Khyan laughed.

Nate crowded Khyan’s personal bubble. “You want a piece of this. Right here? Right now?”

“You really think you could take me, Sparky?” Khyan taunted. A tattoo moved up Khyan’s neck, morphing from a bird to an evil-looking wolfish creature.

“You think some pansy-ass tattoo will save you?” Nate gritted out.

Ashor knocked them apart. “You short out this plane, Nate, or blow it up, and keep me one day longer away from Kira, then I will pulverize your ass into oblivion. So, chill the fuck out. And, Khyan…damn it, you know better than to bait him.” Ashor shot an exasperated glance at Dakar.

Dakar pursed his lips and shook his head. “I can try to keep them from killing each other, but I cannot operate these auto-mobile transport vehicles if there is a malfunction.”

Khyan waved his cell phone.

Dakar nodded. “Right, I shall use the…teela-fun.”

“It’s telephone, darling, but that’s a cell phone,” Shay said softly. “I’ll be with you guys. I can drive.” She quickly added, “I’ll stay in the car, of course, during the action.”

“What’s his deal?” Astrid asked Shay, her eyes darting to Dakar.

“He just came back to us after being trapped somewhere for a few centuries. He’s a bit lost by technology.”

Khyan mumbled, “Nate better not explode the car.”

Nate punched Khyan, knocking him into the booze cabinet whose doors broke, sending bottles flying. Two shattered. The smell of hard liquor surrounded them.

“Bloody hell.” Ashor grabbed Nate before he dove in for round two, and threw him to the opposite end of the plane. He pointed at Khyan. “Now you’re with Javen to head southwest. When you get back you can clean this shit up.”

“With Javen?” Khyan said, aghast. His gaze darted to Dakar who shrugged.

Ashor fisted Khyan’s shirt, pulling him upright and slammed him against the still-closed hatch. “Since you can’t behave, you don’t fight with your brother who right now needs to be with Nate. Dakar appears to be the only one of us that can shut down the fires Nate starts.” Ashor’s eyes narrowed. “Tell me you did not just send that
bochnori
thing after me.” Ashor’s face mottled red and his nostrils expanded with each rapid breath. He ground out, “You want to test me, then let your ensorcelled tattoo continue to burn my hand. You just shattered my twenty-year-old Scotch. Go ahead, push me right now.”

Khyan’s eyes widened.

“Good choice. You’re with Javen.” Ashor stepped away from Khyan and ordered, “V, you go with Dakar. I’ll take Christian and Eric to deal with the one to the north. Cy, you’re with me. Who wants to be Astrid’s mentor?”

An uncomfortable silence descended in the cabin. Javen emerged from the cockpit. She felt a pressure in her head for a few seconds and glanced up sharply, meeting the swirling blue eyes of the pilot. A thick sludge moved through his pale irises like a lava lamp. He had tattooed scars coursing across his face and around his neck, highlighting a horrendous old trauma. Javen took a deep puff on his joint. Had the bastard been mucking around in her brain?

“I’ll do it,” Javen said in his crisp British accent.

Christian jumped up with a relieved smile. “Hopefully, Scott had time to arrange cars.” He unlatched the hatch and tapped his fingers impatiently while the stairs unfolded.

“Who’s Scott?” Astrid asked to no one in particular.

Ashor replied, “IT guy. He arranges ground transport. Eric’s older son.”

“What the hell is that?” Christian expelled as he pointed to three parked minivans.

Ashor’s fingers flew over his cell for a few seconds while all stared at him. He chuckled. “That’s all Scott could get last minute. It’s not like we’re trying to make an impression. They look, uh…like they’ll work.”

Christian said, “Guess we’ll blend okay. At least Eric should be right at home. I wonder if they’ve got a built in baby seat.”

“Do not diss my minivan,” Eric said.

“I’m surprised Julie lets you drive at all with the baby,” Ashor mumbled.

“I said I was sorry that I wrecked your car. It was an accident,” Eric shot back.

“Wreck would imply fixable. You drove it over a cliff. That vehicle was a one of a kind. I will be driving us.” Ashor jogged down the stairs and claimed the driver’s seat.

“It’s not like we could score cruising in those.” Christian snorted and stared derisively at the cars.

Khyan whacked Christian on the side of his head. “Perv. You going into withdrawal since it’s been over three days since you got laid?”

Christian flashed him a middle finger.

“Let’s go, Astrid,” Javen said as he trotted down the steps. He tossed a long sheathed sword into the back seat of one vehicle and pulled on his tactical vest.

Khyan pulled on a knee-length black leather jacket, tossed his blade next to Javen’s, and settled into the way back. “I’m taking a siesta. Wake me when we’re there.” He slouched and snored within minutes of the van pulling away.

“So, you plan to give me the skinny on this mission?” Astrid asked after several minutes of silence. She shielded her eyes from the setting sun.

Javen held up his hand. “Later. Let me focus to locate this daemon.”

In silence they maneuvered picturesque roads bathed in the red hues of the dropping sun until they passed into an urban area. They circled the annoying cobblestoned streets several times before Javen pulled in front of an ancient stone church. “I’m pretty sure this is it.” Then louder he yelled, “Rise and shine, Khyan.”

After they passed through the church’s antique white wooden doors, Javen paused. “Astrid, stay in the back. Out of sight. Don’t attract its attention. Watch and learn.”

“What’s that smell?” She pinched her nose against the pungent odor of raw sewage.

“The perfume of our enemy.” Javen took long drag on his joint.

“I have no idea what we’re up against, but I’d feel a lot better if I was holding something sharp and metal.” She rested a hand on her chest against the blade Amun-Ra had given her, which now rested beside an amulet. Ashor informed her the amulet signaled her entry into the Scimitars, and that she couldn’t remove it. She’d tried, but it wouldn’t budge. Instinctually, she knew now was not the time to pull out the knife around her neck.

Khyan handed her a six-inch knife before he stepped out of the entryway into the sanctuary. “How about I go first, Javen?” He tossed his jacket and Scimitar blade into the rear pew and sauntered down the church’s main aisle.

“Shit,” Javen murmured.

“What is he doing? Is he going to kill it with his pocket knife?” Astrid asked Javen.

“He’s psychotic.” Javen took a final puff on his joint and put it out on his shoe.

Khyan strolled toward the ornate wood pulpit and called out, “Where are you?”

A green haze appeared to Khyan’s left out of which a monstrous gray humanoid creature materialized. Sci-fi movies slide-showed in Astrid’s brain yielding no match for the creature. The fiend hissed unintelligible words while advancing on Khyan who tossed his small serrated blade from hand to hand. The daemon parried each of Khyan’s knife thrusts with its long, dagger-sharp nails like a cat toying with a small rodent. It moved its over six and a half feet of solid muscle covered by expansive greasy gray skin with surprising agility. And speed. The daemon moved lightning fast. Sparse black hair dotted its head. It twirled away from Javen to leer at her, showing off its goblinesque pointy teeth.

The heady stench of sulfur powered up her nose. Its toxic taste exploded in her mouth.

Khyan whirled with his knife’s arc aimed for the creature’s left eye. The daemon laughed and swung a meaty fist at Khyan’s knife arm. It scored a direct hit that launched Khyan backwards into the wall. Khyan popped up, yelling invectives. He launched himself at the daemon again, who effortlessly avoided his knife’s thrust. It spun, grabbed a candelabra and pushed Khyan against the wall, thrusting the three-pronged antique into Khyan’s chest and pinning him against the plaster.

That was a death hit. Astrid held her breath until she saw Khyan breathe and struggle. Amazing.

Javen charged the daemon’s back with enough surprise to place a vicious back swipe with his curved black scimitar that separated the monster’s tattered dark shirt and skin from neck to waist. They bled red like humans, but the laceration did little more than anger it. With a ninja-style kick, the monster spun and stone crunched Javen. As Javen’s knees buckled, the daemon hook punched Javen in the jaw, propelling him backwards into the wall. Yipes. That looked painful. She’d be surprised if Javen’s jaw remained attached.