Black Gate: Timewalker Chronicles, Book 4 (17 page)

Elemental.

He fought to hold a thought, to maintain control of his mind. At times, he was a rabid beast, so desperate to feed that he knew he’d kill anything and anyone he came into contact with. So filled with rage that he’d do anything to break these bonds and escape his prison, including deceive a female. Lie. Kill. The horror within him, the Triscani Hunter, had no limits and no conscience, and when it took over, he had fuzzy memories of what he did or said.

He’d lost years to that darkness, his mind not surfacing for weeks at a time, the monster completely in control. And other times, in his rare moments of lucidity, he knew that Bran and Teagh had done the only thing they could. That the world would not be safe if he walked free.

And he cursed himself then for damning them, for accepting their blood oath so many years ago. He knew his evil touched them both, and that they could not take his head without causing their own deaths.

It was one more stain on his soul.

Ajax struggled to breathe, each rise and fall of his chest wall took an act of will. Eventually, it became an act of self-preservation. Refusing to breathe simply caused more pain. Could. Not. Die. Not from this. The gods had truly damned him.

He was a true Immortal. A King.

Seeking calm, he stilled, listened intently. Someone was close by, might discover this place, might set him free.

Then the noise faded and he was alone, again. He screamed in rage, but halted when a portal opened within the dark space. The true Betrayer stood over him, just out of sight, out of range…gloating like a fat pig before he spoke. “I just wanted to kill you, just like I killed her…”

Ajax raged, desperate to kill him, to punish him even as his heart shattered like broken glass. This bastard had turned his Queen to ash. This betrayer had cost him everything.

The Betrayer laughed and plunged a poisoned dagger into the center of Ajax’s chest. Agony ripped through his body. His heart surged, undying, the force of the movement driving the blade deeper into muscle. The slice of that blade was nothing to the pain in his soul. He’d lost her. He’d failed. He’d failed his people and his friends, forced them to imprison him. He’d lost the war, and worse, he’d become one of
them…

No death would come to free him, there would be no release. The poison would fade from his system, and the heart inside this body would continue to beat around the sharp edge of the blade, every pulse an agony as the muscle cut itself open along the diamond tip, stuttered to a stop, then was cursed to beat again. Over and over until the dagger finally worked its way out. This was his existence now. His forever.

Hate welled within. And grief.

His heartbeat slowed to near nothing, the agony of the blade too much to endure with his grief so fresh. Ajax lay still, resigned to wait, to heal.

Bran or Teagh would arrive soon enough. His brothers could pull the dagger from his chest, but they could not save him.

No one could save him.

He closed his eyes and began the count of the damned…

Chapter Seven

Celestina shivered and pulled the thick coating of blankets up to her chin. The heating controls in her quarters were set as hot as the ship’s systems would allow, well above what most would consider comfortable. They’d called her a hot-house flower for centuries, she might as well claim the environment as her own.

Even with humidity beading the walls like steam from a shower, she was cold.

Gods be damned, she feared she’d never be warm again.

Swinging her feet to the side of her reclined viewing chair, she stood on wobbly legs. She would not give up now, not after she’d battled for centuries to influence the outcome of the Crux, and waited for
him
to show up in
this
time.

Her vile Marked Mate had arrived on Earth a few months ago, which meant that somewhere above her head, deep in the stars, a great battle had raged. Her husband’s battleship, destroyed. Her maternal lineage supposedly eradicated, hunted to extinction. The royals on three worlds believed her dead in that battle. Evil had claimed a victory that day, and the Seer, the true Seer, Celestina, had foreseen it all. Celestina had saved her, given her a new name, a new face, and a new power that, even after seven centuries, she still grappled to control.

The Seer had died in her place so that she could see this through. Her Marked would have to wait, but he would be more dangerous than ever. Now that they were both here, together on Earth, he would feel her presence, would siphon energy from her like the vile parasite he’d always been.

He might even try to drain her dry before the Crux, before the Lost King was found. He could hobble her before she could save Earth and the people she’d come to care about most. But he wouldn’t, because he didn’t know what she knew, didn’t know what was coming.

The door to her sanctuary slid open and Bran invaded her space as if summoned by her need for him. She couldn’t risk his life by revealing the truth to him, but she couldn’t stop longing for him, couldn’t stop her weak heart from dreaming impossible dreams.

“What’s the emergency this time?” Blunt to the point of pain, as usual. It helped set her feet back on solid ground, so to speak.

“Ajax has been found. He’s here. I felt him. For the first time in centuries, I felt him.”

Bran paced her space like a caged tiger, but he didn’t complain about the heat. He did, however, scowl at her when she shivered. “I know. I felt him, too.”

“Your blood oath?” Dangerous thing, the blood of a full Immortal. If Ajax ever died, he’d take every half-blood bound to him to the grave right alongside him.

“Damn it, woman. You should not know about that, but yes.” Bran raised one hand to massage the back of his neck, clearly irritated.

“So, Teagh will have felt him wake as well?” She crossed her arms and studied the wide expanse of his shoulders. Goddess, he was so very strong. What would her life have been if she hadn’t been so young and foolish? If she hadn’t been born into the family from hell?

“Yes.” Bran’s strength made her feel safe, even if it were an illusion. Especially now, with a blood oath of her own to deal with. Her Marked Mate would be hunting, but she had to survive and stay out of his clutches until the Crux, she had to find a way to save Ajax, or everything and everyone would pay a dear, dear price.

I can’t see him. I can’t find him.” She hugged herself, frustrated beyond belief that the one thing she needed to see was beyond her reach. “You must find him.”

“Teagh and I are doing everything we can to win this war.”

She sank to her knees as pain sliced through her lungs. Her vile Mate drained energy through her Mark yet again, at this very moment using her power for his own villainous ends. “You must try harder.” She coughed, palm pressed to her lips, body doubled over in a spasm. When she could straighten, blood coated her hand. How long could she survive her Marked Mate’s wickedness?

A long time. A very, very long time. That bastard didn’t want her dead. He’d never wanted her dead.

“What is happening here? What aren’t you telling me?” Bran knelt beside her, hovering but apparently reluctant to touch her. That was probably for the best. If he placed his big, strong hands on her body, she’d crumble and crawl into his lap, be tempted to break her oath.

“Find Ajax. You’ve only got a couple Earth weeks until the final battle. Maybe less.”

Bran froze, his face hardening from concerned to ice-cold determination in an instant. “How do you know? Why now? Tell me why.”

“I’ve been having dreams…” She paused, gathered her wits about her to continue speaking while one man drained her body and her desire for another crushed her heart. To borrow one of Mari’s favorite expressions, being a woman could be a real bitch.

“Dreams about Ajax?”

“Yes. He’s going to die, Bran. And he will take you and Teagh with him when he does.” She waited for him to scream, to rant, to have any reaction at all. She may as well have been talking to her shoe.

“How does he die?” Bran stood to tower over her.

“I don’t know.” Stumbling to her feet, she pulled her elbow free from his too chivalrous hold and forced her weak legs to carry her to the sink so she could wash the blood from her hands. She scrubbed at it until her palm was nearly raw, trying to wash the vile stench of her Marked Mate’s energy from her system, to wash away her regrets. There wasn’t enough soap in existence to accomplish the task.

Bran walked to the sink and grabbed her hands to stop her nervous scrubbing. She sobbed once, hated herself for it, and took a deep breath so she could speak. “I don’t know anything, and it makes me want to scream. It should be impossible. I just keep feeling him die.”

“That’s not possible. Are you sure it’s not just a bad dream?”

She shook her head and gave in to her worn-out soul’s need for a respite. She turned into him and buried her face in his chest. “It’s not just a dream. We die together every time I fall asleep.”

“Gods, woman.” He wrapped heavily muscled arms around her thin shoulders and simply held her. “You’ve got to stop.”

“Don’t worry about me. Save Ajax. That’s all that matters now.”

“What if he can’t be saved?”

Celestina froze. She’d never heard the despair in Bran’s voice before. What did he know? What was he not sharing with her? “What aren’t you telling me, Bran?”

“I need to know, Tina. What happens if he can’t be saved? What happens in your visions if it’s too late for him?”

“If he’s turned?” Celestina shuddered. “He can’t be. He is stronger than all of us. He would fight, Bran. Fight to save us. Fight for a future with Angeline.”

“And what if he can’t? What if it’s too late? What if there is nothing left of him?” Bran nearly whispered the question, the words too serious.

“It can’t be true. We can’t give up hope.” Celestina shook her head and pulled away from the rare comfort she’d allowed herself these past centuries.

Drawing the scent of Bran’s heat and strength into her lungs, she closed her eyes and built the walls back up around her bruised soul. She
would
find Ajax. She
would
survive. And then, when the Crux was over, when they’d won the battle with the Triscani, she
would
hunt down the monster under the bed.

But not yet.

Not. Yet.

<><><>

Teagh rubbed his chin and jaw for what seemed the hundredth time and barely held back a groan of sheer frustration while the healer, Marina, tried again to knit Katherine’s torn flesh back together. She’d helped. The wounds were closed, no longer bleeding. But they remained tender and black as tar. It was as if the Triscani’s evil had literally fused with Katherine’s flesh.

He needed to kill something, and all he could do was stand around like a gods damned gelded horse.

“I can’t do any more. I don’t understand it.” Mari leaned over Katherine, tucking a soft, thin sheet around her shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Katie. It won’t respond. It’s like the energy is all wrong, like forcing two wrong ends of magnets together. I can literally feel it repelling me.”

Raiden had been strangely silent for the last half hour, watching his Marked Mate work. He lifted his gaze to capture Teagh’s attention with a nod toward the other end of the house.

“Keep an eye on her for a minute, Mari?”

The gorgeous woman lifted sad eyes to his, an apology in their depths. “Sure, T. I can do that, at least.” For a few incredible hours he’d been linked to the Timewalker, had carried her Mark, because Raiden hadn’t pulled his head out of his ass long enough to realize the woman was perfect for him. What idiot wouldn’t want Mari as a Marked Mate?

Right. Who was the fucking idiot now? He was in ten times deeper than Raiden had ever been. At least Marina had wanted the warrior, had, in fact, spent a fortune and two years of her life scouring the oceans to find him. Katherine, on the other hand, ran when he approached. His female wanted nothing to do with him. Didn’t trust him. Lied to him. His stubborn Katherine kissed him and still kept her secrets.

It was driving him mad.

Teagh shook his head and walked out to the beach with Raiden on his heels. The half-Immortal prince didn’t waste any time. “What’s going on? When did Katherine run into the Triscani? What the fuck happened to her?”

“She has command of the Gates. The Triscani found her there.” Teagh stared out over the moonlit water. Night had fallen. Had it truly only been one day? One hellaciously long fucking day since he’d walked into the dark and found Katherine? It felt like eternity already.

“What of the Lost King? Before she was attacked, Katherine spoke directly to me, mind to mind, even though I’ve never met her.” Agitated, Raiden swirled twin blades in his hands, extensions of his arms. The blades were deadly, and he had decades of practice beheading Triscani with them. “She asked me about the Lost King, Teagh. Asked me if I thought it was a good idea to release him from his prison. She found him. She knows his name.”

“What are you asking?”

“I’m asking you how a mortal, a human born in this time, knows the name of an Immortal King who’s been missing for centuries?” Raiden slipped the blades back into the folds of his clothing and they vanished as if they’d never been.