Beautiful Salvation (27 page)

“Just to be clear,” the demon said, speaking around the cigarette and sending clove-scented smoke into the room. “The
kanontsistonties
are…?”

“The flying heads,” Kirill muttered. “Do not try to light them on fire, they will not die, they will simply become flaming flying heads and possibly do even greater damage.”

“Got it.” Adonis proceeded to the window, trailing smoke in his wake.

Kirill faced the window. “I will hold back the wendigos until Etienne can arrive to help. Between our wolf prince and his lupine companions, the wendigos should not advance to the castle.”

“And what will you do, Kirill?” Saamal studied the vampire, hoping that the growing suspicion inside him was wrong. “You don’t intend to take on
Camazotz
?”

“You know as well as I do that
Camazotz
is a coward. As soon as he sees signs of a battle, he will halt and wait to see what the winning side will be. He wouldn’t be coming at all if he didn’t think you were alone and weak.”

“And if he does come, and is prepared to fight?”

Kirill faced Saamal, his emotionless face an inscrutable mask. “Do you think I do not have a plan?”

“I don’t want to insult you…” Saamal trailed off, searching Kirill’s eyes for some break in his calm.

The crystal blue eyes remained as expressive as ice. “Then don’t.” He turned toward the window, walking away at an angle, without giving Saamal his back.

“You have so little faith in me that you would not have me join the battle?” Saamal asked, his voice low.

Kirill paused. “You must wake Aiyana. This is only the first wave of attacks, there will be more, and we cannot hold off every monster in your kingdom forever. Should the gods decide to join, the war will be over before it has begun.”

The air grew heavy with the unanswered question. Kirill’s earlier suggestion that the prophecy meant Aiyana had to die came back to Saamal and he clutched his sword tighter in his hand, wishing with every fiber of his being that he could face the vampire standing on both feet. His skin itched under his fur and his teeth ached to spill blood as his anger stirred in anticipation of Kirill’s next words.

“You must stop seeing death as the end, and start seeing it as the beginning,” he said quietly. “Some part of you must have known that the kiss of death mentioned in the prophecy was a reference to actually dying.” He turned to the secret passageway as if he had more knowledge of the castle than he should. “None of us will kill her, Saamal. It is up to you. But you should understand that this war will end in her death one way or another. Either you will kill her to end her curse and bring her back to you, or you will remain too weak to keep your enemies from ending her life.” He paused before entering the passageway. “Do let me know when you’ve made your decision. Irina will be very cross with me if I don’t come home before the sun rises.”

The vampire vanished through the passageway before Saamal could speak, before the anger simmering inside him could find a way to unleash itself. The stump of his left leg throbbed, sharp pains stabbed along the edge as though Cipactli’s teeth were still embedded in his flesh.

And still it didn’t hurt as bad as the growing suspicion that the prophecy would not let him off with a kiss.

Saamal hobbled over to Aiyana’s bed, every step taking a little more energy, draining a little more of the fight from him. Chaos raged outside, allies he’d never expected to have battled creatures he’d never thought would have the courage to face him. Cipactli was preparing to throw the entire kingdom from her back, and contrary to everything his mirrors had ever shown him, it seemed as if the time of the Fifth Sun would end.

None of it mattered right now.

Suddenly too weary to stand any longer. Saamal slumped into the chair he’d placed by Aiyana’s bedside. He trailed a hand through the silk of her beautiful black hair and caressed the copper skin of her cheek.

“I decided to marry you before I ever knew you.” His mind drifted back to the past, back to a time when every problem, every question had had an easy answer. “You were to bring me power, power was good for my kingdom, and thus I decided it would be so. If the prophecy had told me killing you would bring me power…” His throat constricted, but he shook his head and continued. “I would have done it. But now…”

He put his head down on the bed, hand still resting against her hair. He couldn’t kill her. Prophecy or no, power or no, he couldn’t hurt her. Kirill could be wrong—the prophecy could be wrong. How could anyone take that risk?

“I love you,” he whispered.

“You don’t know what love is,” a feminine voice hissed.

Saamal shot to his feet, rage giving him strength as he recognized Chumana’s voice. The Spring Maiden stood inside the room, glowing with her power. The perfume of spring flowers filled the air until it filled his senses, hyacinths, lavender, and roses, all pricking his memory and reminding him of a time when that scent had made him smile. A sharp contrast to the violent images it filled his mind with now.

“You have so many enemies, my
love
.” Chumana sauntered closer, swaying her hips with every step and trailing her hand over the bed Saamal had vacated, lingering on the bloodstains revealed by the cast off blankets. “I will bring them all here, one by one. Your friends will not hold them off for long. Eventually the castle will be taken, and your precious Aiyana will die as she was meant to do over a century ago.” Chumana stood straighter, bending her body to show her curves at their greatest advantage, pulling the slick crimson material firm against her curves. “Whether I am still willing to accept you after she’s dead depends greatly on how you treat me now.”

“If Aiyana dies, the first thing I will do with my returning power is see that you never see the light of day again.”

Chumana snorted. “No you won’t. I know you, Death. Know you better, it seems, than you know yourself. Once Aiyana is gone, I will be the best chance you have to heal your precious land. Even if you manage to calm Cipactli and get her to lie still once again, the earth is hurting, in constant pain. I can help it heal, help it grow. And as we both know, you will do anything to save your beloved kingdom and extend the time of the Fifth Sun.”

Saamal looked at Aiyana’s peaceful face, Kirill’s words playing through his mind and Chumana’s voice like a buzzing insect in the background. “Not anything.”

A hiss more serpent than human made Saamal turn his head in time to see Chumana draw an obsidian dagger from a sheath at her side. It had been a gift from him months after he’d kidnapped her, when he’d been certain her loyalties had firmly settled with him instead of her husband. The symbolism of watching her now draw it against him was not lost on him. He waited for the surge of anger that the threat to Aiyana should bring, but instead he only experienced a bone-deep weariness. He closed his hand more firmly on his sword and pushed his way to a standing position, his left leg screaming at the movement.

“I will end this, one way or another,” Chumana ground out. “You are in no shape to fight me.”

Saamal faced her, trying to remember a time when she’d been the sweet, smiling Maiden of Spring, the woman who had spent her time bringing beautiful flowers from the earth and dancing in meadows with her people. It had been her ability to coax the land to be its most productive, the way she brought joy to his people and in that way encouraged them to work harder and treasure the land all the more that had attracted him to her. With his goal in his mind, he’d swept down on her one day in the field, carried her away before her husband even knew he’d been watching. He’d frightened her to tears at first. It had taken days to woo her into his arms, to coax her loyalty from her. The torrential storms sent by her husband had been a blessing in disguise. With all that rain and Chumana’s willing assistance, the earth had been greener than he’d ever seen it. Now, having met Aiyana, known her, he understood something. Something he perhaps wouldn’t have understood if his initial efforts to claim Aiyana’s hand had been successful.

“I’m sorry, Chumana.”

Confusion flickered in the Spring Maiden’s eyes, but she didn’t lower her weapon. “Sorry? Sorry for what?” A muscle in her jaw clenched and she tightened her grip on her weapon. “For turning your back on me after all I did for you? For humiliating me in the eyes of the entire pantheon by claiming a
mortal child’s
hand in marriage when I had never been worthy of more than your bed?”

“For pretending I wanted you when all I wanted was your help for my kingdom.” Saamal shook his head sadly. “I never should have—”

A scream ripped from Chumana’s throat, her eyes bursting to life with vivid emerald light. She pointed the dagger at Saamal, her entire body trembling. “You bastard.” Her voice wavered between a high hysterical shriek and the sibilant hiss of a serpent. “You will not humiliate me any more. After Aiyana is dead, I will make you beg me to come back.” Her green-eyed gaze slid to Aiyana. “She will suffer before she dies.”

“You’ll have to go through me first,” Adonis said firmly.

Saamal glanced over his shoulder in time to see Adonis enter the room from the secret passageway. He was in human form rather than demon, but the grim expression in his hazel eyes held a weight that Saamal had never seen in the incubus before. “What are you doing in here, Adonis?”

“I had a bad feeling about leaving you and Aiyana alone.” Adonis sneered at Chumana. “Then I saw
her
heading inside. I wouldn’t dream of robbing you of this fight, but I thought it might allow you to enjoy the battle more if you knew someone was watching over Aiyana.”

Relief washed over Saamal, a weight he hadn’t realized he felt lifting from his shoulders. He felt stronger now, but knowing that Adonis would be protecting Aiyana freed him to concentrate fully on Chumana—a concentration he would need if he was to battle in his current lame state. He raised his hands, calling the spirit of the jaguar. It came in a wash of energy, invigorating him, sliding through his muscles and bones. His leg throbbed as the energy swirled around the wound, not healing it completely, but repairing enough of the damage that he could bear the pain if he had to put his weight on it. Fur flowed over his body and black claws slid from his fingertips in a welcome, prickling rush. He bared his teeth at Chumana.

“This will end here, Flower Maiden,” he snarled.

Chumana’s gaze flicked behind him and her eyes widened in horror. She flung out a hand. “No! You need a binding spell first!”

Saamal whirled to see what was happening behind him, pulse thundering in his ears at the urgency in Chumana’s voice.

The blood froze in his veins, and his heart ceased its beating. Adonis stood over Aiyana, a dagger held in his hands. Before Saamal could move, before he could scream, Adonis brought the blade down into Aiyana’s chest.

Pain exploded in Aiyana’s chest, lightning bolts of agony shooting out from her heart and setting her nerves on fire. Her knees hit the earth with a jarring thud and the world spun around her as her body pitched to the ground. Pressure in her chest made it hard to breathe and she clawed at her body as if she could rid herself of the horrible feeling.

Tenoch appeared beside her, his face screwed up with concern and sadness. “You’re not alone,” he said softly. “I’ll stay with you.”

Aiyana opened her mouth to ask him what was happening, to demand answers, but no words would come. Bitter fear coated her tongue as her head lulled forward, too heavy to hold up anymore. Moist earth pressed against her forehead. Darkness closed over her and she felt as if she were falling. Down, down, down past the earth, past her body. Falling.

A roar unlike anything she’d ever heard erupted around her. Human, but so twisted with rage and pain that it was only barely recognizable. Aiyana opened her eyes.

“By the gods,” she whispered.

She was standing beside her own body. It way lying on a bed, positioned like a child’s doll, hands folded over her middle, eyes closed as if in sleep. The skin of her face was relaxed and expressionless, frozen as if… Aiyana gaped at the blood flowing from a wound in her chest and she stumbled back a step at the sight of a man standing over her, blood dripping from the dagger in his hands. He was a stranger to her, hazel eyes and wild brown hair. As she studied at him, his features flickered, changed. She gasped as she recognized the other face. “Okomi.” Her brows furrowed and she stared at him harder, trying to make out who he really was amidst the shifting faces. “But how…?” His features shifted again, this time to a velvety brown muzzle and golden eyes. Aiyana stumbled back another step. “Coyote!”