Arianna Rose: The Gates of Hell (Part 5) (22 page)

A rumble of approval resounded.  His people were pleased.  Two more gateways needed opening; just two.  And with Dane offing Desmond
, thereby stripping Arianna of her ability to defeat him, his plans were going better than he’d ever dreamed possible.

Chapter 16

A charge like static electricity traveled through Dane’s body, through his blood, his pores, his very soul, as he teleported from the tunnels where Darius had been.  The feeling was a welcome distraction to the insurmountable shame plaguing him, and while it did not alleviate it entirely, it did allay it a touch. 

Finding a modicum of solace in the steady buzz of prickles, he focused on the
rainbow of colors that shattered before his eyes, a variegated array that detonated like a fireworks display before racing toward him at hyper-speed.  His body became one with the air, with the fabric of the universe. 

Though he’d been doing it for some time now, sifting,
while dizzying, still amazed Dane.  His amazement was severely curbed this time, however, by guilt.  Consuming him whole, it gnawed away at his insides like a parasite.  He squeezed his eyes shut but to no avail.  Reopening them, the spinning explosion made him lightheaded.

When at last the vertiginous experience ended, the sharp tang of ocean water
greeted him and the ground on which he stood felt unstable.  Sinking slightly on the shifting surface, he realized he stood on sand, and as he waited for the temporary dizziness that followed sifting to end, he watched as rolling waves crashed ashore. The destination was a European isle, castle ruins that loomed alongside craggy rock.  He was certain it was breathtaking by day.  But at night, with not even a sliver of a moon to light the landscape, it took on a haunted quality.  Veils of mist hovered like spectral beings over rugged obsidian moors, the skeletal remains of the castle a dark silhouette against the blue-black sky.  A steady drizzle fell, slightly muffling the pounding surf.  He hugged his arms about his waist, a chill settling deep in his bones, and made his way inside. 

His hands trembled and his brain felt as if
countless needles were piercing it at once.  His decision, the pact he’d made with Darius, was like talons ripping and clawing at his insides.  He paused and gripped his head in his hands.  What had he agreed to?  Would he be able to fulfill his obligation?  Should he have just forfeited his life?  That’s what a noble warlock would have done.  That’s what Desmond would have done. 

Desmond.  The name howled through the hollows of his being, the deepest darkest recesses he never spoke of.  Yes, Darius had been right.  He had fantasized about Desmond’s demise, about comforting Ariann
a once again.  There was a time when she’d believed Desmond had been unfaithful and had readily accepted his companionship, sought him out even.  They’d joked and flirted, spent time together, trained alone together.  They’d grown inseparable.  He’d come dangerously close to assembling a firing squad to run Desmond off the grounds of the compound, and she’d been appreciative of his efforts.  He just wanted to get back to that.  He wanted things to go back to the way they’d been when Desmond was out of the picture.  He’d been her strong shoulder to cry on, her funny, reliable Dane.  And she’d learned to live without Desmond.  She’d been fine, in fact, happy.  And he had been too.  But when Desmond had returned, everything changed.  He never saw her alone.  Their one-on-one training sessions ended, and forget about their late-night chats.  Sure, his sister had been alive and present during them, but at times, it had felt as if it had been just the two of them.  Some nights, Beth had dozed, and he and Arianna had sipped her awful coffee and stayed up talking. 

Then, he’d been sure she’d felt something for him, a small spark that had grown to a flickering flame. 
Darius had gotten in the way, but he’d been little more than a hiccup.  He’d never believed Arianna had wanted Darius.  He’d never seen Darius as a threat and had continued to foster that fragile blaze, but his chance had been robbed from him as soon as Desmond had come back.  Every bit of his recent disappointment and unhappiness related to Desmond, yet he still couldn’t justify killing him. 

Scrubbing his face with his hands, Dane felt as if his world was falling between his fingers
like grains of sand in the wind.  He didn’t know what to do.  He had no idea what he’d say when he saw Arianna, how he would explain that he lived while four others, two of whom were experienced elders, had died.

Sca
ling crumbling stone steps two at a time, Dane made his way to the entrance. Arianna, Briathos and the others were just inside, in a small chamber used long ago for meetings. He could hear them talking.

“He’s not here,” Briathos said, relief evident in his tone.  “Not yet, at least.  The vile stench of the underworld is absent.  The gateway hasn’t been opened.”

“We should go, try to catch up with Desmond or Dane,” Arianna said.

Seeing her statement as the best opportunity he’d have to announce his presence, Dane entered the room.  He was certain he looked worse for the wear.  Outwardly, the tunnels had left him caked in a fine layer of dusty sediment
and his clothes were burned.  But he doubted dirt or charred marks on his clothes were what lent him a haggard appearance.  Watching Leo, Sorath and two young men he’d known only hours die in front of him, snuffed easily, instantly, left him feeling enervated in every imaginable way.  His agreement with Darius worsened it incalculably. 

“Dane,” Arianna said his name breathlessly after taking one look at him.  Her voice wrapped his troubled mind in a pool of silk, the sound of it as soothing as warm fingers stroking his forehead. 
The needle hot pain slowly subsided to a dull throb, and the strangling sensation he felt in his esophagus eased, even if just for a fleeting moment.  She rushed to him, her face panic stricken.  “Are you all right?”

Unexpected tears burned behind his eyes and his throat constricted once again.  Words, formed and ready, failed to escape. 

“What happened?” she asked and clutched his forearms. 

Her touch was practically his undoing, the flutter of her energy pulsing through him
more than he could bear. 

“He killed them,” he heard his voice echo thinly, as if it were coming from someone else. 

“He who?  Who was killed?”  The questions fell from her lips but as soon as they did, realization settled over her features.  Her brows dipped and a frown dominated her face.

“Leo, Sorath and two
new arrivals, Don and Jake, were killed.  Darius killed them.”  His words trembled in time with his insides, the understanding that more questions would follow, ones he’d have to lie to answer, knotted his gut. 

Arianna touched a hand to her forehead
while one held fast to his arm, unshed tears shining in her dark chocolate eyes.  “H-how did you get away?”

“I’m not proud of what I did,” he admitted
, and told perhaps the only truth in what he was going to tell.  They were already dead—Sorath, Leo, Don and Jake—and I knew I couldn’t defeat Darius alone, much less all of them.” He shrugged and cast his eyes downward, remorse for what he’d done, for what he was going to do, warming his cheeks. 

“Oh my gosh,” Arianna said.  She began saying something else, something about him being right to leave, that there’d been nothing he could do, but her words were interrupted by Desmond’s abrupt appearance. 
Her hand fell from his arm immediately, leaving coldness in its wake, and her expression transformed from one of warmth and compassion to one that was inscrutable.

At sight of the fair-haired warlock, Dane’s pulse hammered against the base of his throat. 

“Desmond, what’re you doing here?  Are you okay?  Is your team okay? ” Briathos asked, worry creasing his face further. 

All eyes went to Desmond, his answer awaited with bated breath. 

“Darius wasn’t there.  The team is safe.  In fact, they stayed behind to wait.  I was worried about you,” Desmond told Arianna, his gaze zeroing in on her as he closed the distance between them.  The concern in his eyes, in everything about him, was clear, bordering on possessiveness.  She was why he’d returned, her and only her. 

Hot tendrils of jealousy sparked through Dane’s veins reflexively.  About as powerless to stop it as he
would be to stop the sun from rising, he stood there watching as he always did as Desmond trapped her in his arms, fawning over her. 

Desmond’s f
ocus on her had been so intense he hadn’t even noticed Dane there.  But when he spun and his eyes absently glided over him then doubled back, he said, “Why are you here?” his tone harsh to the point Dane swore accusation laced his words. 

No knowing whether his conscience supplied the hint of finger pointing or whether it had truly been there, Dane replied, “It’s Darius.  He
was in the tunnels under the Baths of Caracalla.”

“What?” Desmond’s eyes widened as he asked incredulously.  “What happened?”

“He was in the tunnels when we got there.  And he killed them, Leo, Sorath, Don and Jake.  He killed them all,” Dane answered, his voice cracking at the remembrance. 

Arianna untangled herself from Desmond’s clutches and placed a sympathetic hand on his back,
rubbing in an oval-shaped pattern.  Her gesture was tender, affectionate. 

Desmond’s keen gaze sharpened as he trained it on the space between her hand and Dane’s body.  “How did you manage to escape death?” he demanded. 

Heat crept up from his collar, undoubtedly turning his neck and cheeks bright red.  Judgment lurked.  He sensed it in Desmond’s attitude. 

“I knew that alone I couldn’t win against Darius and the three people he was with.  I knew I’d die just like they did,” Dane said and swallowed hard.  “So I sifted, got out of there while I could.”  Disgrace spiked his words.  Even he could hear it. 

Desmond’s nostrils flared and his lips tightened to slashes.  He never would have run if the situation Dane just fabricated had actually happened.  He would have fought to the death to preserve the dignity of his fallen comrades and uphold his divine purpose.  He would have gladly accepted an honorable death over running like a coward as Dane had falsely apprised them he had.  In truth, what he’d done was far worse.  And for reasons he could not explain, it only made him more resentful of Desmond.

“Hmm,” a sound rumbled long and low in Desmond’s chest, his brow furrowed and his gaze hard.  “I bet he’s still there,” he said more to himself than anyone else.

“You think Darius is still in the tunnels?” Arianna asked, and the small swirls she’d been making on his back stopped. 

“I think he might be,” Dane said and looked between Desmond’s unflinching glare and Arianna’s molten brown irises.  And in that moment, he realized Arianna could be his
, that without Desmond, a chance existed for them.  But that chance would cease to exist if he ignored the opportunity to isolate the critical warlock that had just landed in his lap. 

As if sensing the plot hatching in his brain, Desmond said, “Let’s
all go.  We’ll end this once and for all.”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Arianna agreed.

“I am with you, Sola,” Briathos said. 

“No,” Dane blurted before the situation spiral
ed too far from his reach.  Everyone looked at him questioningly.  “It could be a trap.” 

“We leave, he comes here and opens the gate,” Arianna finished his sentence for him.  “Of course, it could be a trap.  I’ll stay he
re and guard the portal with Briathos.”

“Right,” Dane nodded and marveled at how perfectly things were falling into place.  Fate was on his side.  It must be.  “He’s probably done in the tunnels, but Desmond and I can go take a quick look to be sure.  If he happens to be there, we’ll come back and get
you.”

“Fine,” Desmond agreed.  “Let’s go.”

Dane turned to say good-bye to the others and was startled by Briathos’ astute and arresting gaze.  The old warlock seemed to stare straight through to his soul.  Dane nearly folded under the weight of it then and there, but at Desmond’s urging, was forced to turn away.

“Come on,” Desmond said.  “As soon as we are there, lead the way.”

“Okay,” Dane replied.  And with his words, the dank chill of the drafty castle ruins faded from sight, a vivid pinwheel of colors splintering into innumerable dichroic shards as he traversed time and space. 

When the
lightshow ended, Dane and Desmond stood at the wide, tiled beginning of the tunnel.  Soft light shone from hidden fixtures along inlaid stone walls. 

“He was down this way,” Dane said.  He pointed down the passageway.  His stomach felt filled with snakes slithering over and under each other in a never-ending, undulating motion.

“Let’s go,” Desmond said impatiently and led the way.  Dane found it both odd and fortuitous at the same time that despite not being there before, Desmond took charge and forged ahead of him.  He was a natural leader.  Such an act was instinctive.  Unbeknownst to him, nature, the instinct unique to him, would lead to his death.

With Desmond in front, rushing headlong to an already-opened and since abandoned portal, Dane stooped and fingered the small dagger he kept sheathed at his ankle at all times.  He slipped it from its casing and held it for a moment, rotating the narrow hilt in his hand, back and forth, back and forth.  Each slide of the handle was a pang of doubt.