Daughter of Gods and Shadows (26 page)

“Sakarabru,” she said in unison with the phantom, who continued chanting in his own language, “has commanded you to find the reborn, and yet you stray, Brood,” she said seductively.

He closed his eyes and shuddered as she swept her fingertips through the strands of his hair touching his shoulders.

“You're dwelling on the wrong things, baby,” she whispered in his ear, leaning close.

The sweet warmth of her breath against his skin was like nectar to him. The anticipation of Lilith was a drug, a narcotic that mixed beautifully with the agony still boiling inside him.

“Find her, Brood,” she told him.

Paul opened his eyes and watched as the phantom drifted away from him, leaving just her. Beautiful waves of red hair cascaded down her shoulders and created windows for erect pink nipples peaking through them. The delicious nakedness of Lilith instantly made him hard. The phantom still chanted, but the sight of her and Paul's desire for her had overcome the sound of the words that had been so deeply embedded in him.

Lilith got down on all fours and slowly crawled toward him seductively, like a lioness stalking her prey.

“Promise me that you will find her, sugar.” Lilith rolled over on her back and spread her soft thighs, exposing the sweet treasure hidden between them.

Paul growled low and deep in the back of his throat, rolled over on top of her, and slowly eased himself inside her. Lilith was the drug he needed to ease his pain and to bring clarity to his mind.

“Promise me!” she demanded, thrusting her hips against his.

Paul stared into her ocean-blue eyes. She had taken away his pain. She had bought him back to his purpose. She had given him more pleasure than he had ever had in his life. “I promise.”

*   *   *

“We know where they're taking her.”

The next morning, Paul emerged from the warehouse and saw three men standing outside. They were Brood. He studied each of them and finally reached the conclusion that he had allies. Either Lilith had sent them or maybe even Sakarabru. But in any event, if they had come with a lead on how to find the reborn, he'd take what he could get.

“Where?” he asked, focusing on the one who appeared to be the leader.

“South,” he told him. “They're staying close to the coast but not getting on any of the major roads—sticking to backcountry mostly.” He looked back at the other two men. “We can get you onto their trail easy enough.”

“She's traveling with the Guardian?” he asked.

They looked at each other. “She's traveling with a convoy: the Guardian, a few Weres, and a few Shifters. They've got her pretty well protected,” the one leaning against the car added.

Paul pulled his keys from his pocket, headed to his car, climbed in, and started the engine, following them on this trail leading to the reborn.

*   *   *

The funk of their all-night fuck session permeated the entire warehouse. Lilith and the Brood were long gone, but Kifo knew exactly what had gone on here and why. Lilith was a master dream weaver, a spell caster of sex. She had tricked men and women into believing that they loved her, needed her, and couldn't live without her. And she had made them believe that
she
actually loved them, too.

She and Sakarabru had played Kifo like an instrument. The Demon had broken him, torn him down, and nearly destroyed him, only to send her in like the cavalry, to pick up those broken pieces and put him back together again using the lovely spell of pussy and promises. All in the name of Sakarabru. It had worked on Kifo, and it worked on Sakarabru's most incredible and formidable monster here on Earth, this Brood. It had happened so long ago, and Kifo had been so young and so caught up in the love of Lilith that he never thought to ever question how someone like her could come to want to be with someone like him. But now he understood. Kifo understood everything with such clarity that it sickened him.

 

BURNIN' DOWN THE HOUSE

You could cut through the despair with a knife. Jacksonville Sanctuary. In the last week Khale had traveled from one US coast to the other surveying the devastation caused by Sakarabru. She had finally come to Florida and found this place as dismal as any other. She snaked her way slowly through the masses littering the playing field inside what used to be the professional football stadium. Thousands upon thousands had been living inside this place for weeks, and thousands more waited outside the perimeter, hoping to get in. Armed military men perched high in the stands with their guns loaded and ready to shoot those on the outside who tried to break in and those on the inside who may have wanted to leave.

The conditions inside were horrible. The stench of urine, feces, and cigarettes smothered the air. Frightened women and children huddled together in groups. These people were like animals, fighting over any little morsel of food available. Trucks hauled in large boxes filled with food and supplies, but order had given way to chaos, and it truly was the survival of the fittest.

Khale had always loved this world. She'd watched humanity take root and blossom over time, siphoning their notion of culture, religion, languages from what they'd learned from Ancients, some of whom, for a short time, were worshipped like gods. But as mankind developed and thrived, the influence of the Ancients diminished, and they were eventually, and mercifully, forgotten. Khale and her kind assimilated and blended in to avoid persecution by a race that fell in love with logic and out of love with legends.

She had, in essence, become one of them, and she had never regretted it. As Khale n
é
e Khale, the Forever and Ever, and the Great Shifter, she could adopt whatever form she chose and had experienced this world from a thousand different perspectives. Khale loved her life here, and her heart went out to these people.

So as not to frighten them anymore than they already were, she ducked behind a shed, transformed into a small bird, and flew outside the walls of this new kind of prison. She had a very important meeting to attend on the other side of these walls, and Khale did not want to be late for it.

*   *   *

Saint Simon's Island, off the coast of Georgia, was barren now. The humans had all escaped inland and to the larger cities, hoping to get into sanctuaries. Without humans to feed on, the Brood found no use for places like this.

Khale stood staring out at the ocean rummaging through all of the regrets she had had since even before her world had fallen. Of all of them, Sakarabru had been her first mistake, and the one with the most lasting consequences.

“Am I the last to make love to you, Khale?” he asked, appearing behind her.

Her knees grew weak at the sound of his voice, and Khale silently cursed herself for the effect that he still had on her. She closed her eyes, and without thinking, shifted into a height more compatible with his. Khale slowly turned to Sakarabru and gazed into the depths of his emerald-colored eyes.

Sakarabru's charm for Khale began with his beauty. On Theia, when they were much, much younger, his hair had been a dark contrast to the rich color of his eyes. Time had changed it to white, which made him even more breathtaking.

He reached down and carefully took her hand in his. In the mind of that young and naive and careless Shifter, this was the Sakarabru that she loved, then and now. Her heart fluttered at his touch.

He raised her hand and studied it intently and then he laughed.

Khale noticeably tensed.

“Forgive me, Beloved,” he said, stroking the back of her hand. “It's just that, I can't help but to find it amusing that you would lessen your own beauty to suit what is acceptable to the humans.” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Such a waste,” he said, gazing into her eyes.

Khale had taken a huge risk coming here. She was literally taking her own life into her hands by agreeing to meet with him. Sakarabru was not back to the fullness of his strength, but the influence of who and what he was was as strong as it had ever been.

“Know thy enemy,” she murmured, removing her hand from his. “You are still my enemy, Sakarabru.”

The flirtatious spark in his eyes faded quickly. “I am most definitely your enemy, Shifter.”

“Why'd you ask to see me?” she asked coolly.

“Why did you agree to come?” he challenged.

This time, it was her turn to be coy. “Because my ego is just as big as yours, Demon,” she said, stepping away from him. “But let's just say that I was curious to see what I am really up against after four thousand years.”

“Look around you, Ancient,” he said casually. “I am well rested and I am ready to rule again. It is in my—”

“I know,” she said irritably. “It's in your nature. You always say that as if it's all the excuse you need to inflict death and destruction on nations.”

“Well, if those nations would just cooperate, maybe the transition to being under my rule wouldn't have to be so destructive.”

“These people were not your enemy, Sakarabru. You didn't have to do this to them!”

“I needed an army, Ancient, by any means necessary.”

“An army against—us?”

“If by the word ‘us' you mean Ancients, then yes.”

Did he believe that there were more Ancients than there actually were? Had Sakarabru set out to build this massive Brood Army to combat an army he believed Khale led?

“You mean to destroy us all,” she said somberly.

His expression changed, softened, and for a moment he looked sincere. “You've always forced my hand, Shifter,” he explained. “Your destruction was never what I wanted, but it's always been what you've insisted on, pitting that army of yours between you and me.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “But I still believe that I could love you like no other, Shifter.”

Sakarabru had sprung up on Theia like a lush tree in the desert. He had just appeared one day, radiant and intoxicating. Khale was young and curious and mesmerized by him. She'd given herself to him completely. She'd loved him and would've done anything to spend eternity with him.

“I remember Kahah,” she said introspectively. She didn't have to raise her voice for him to hear her. “They believed that they could be safe in the valley hidden in their caves.” She watched his expression harden as she recalled this story. “I can still hear their screams. Their cries still echo in my head.”

“Khale! Help us, Khale! Save us!”

But she and her army arrived too late. Sakarabru's Brood swept through that valley like a cyclone, wiping out an entire race.

“They were farmers, Sakarabru,” she said bitterly. “They were helpless, and you killed them, squashed them like insects. There is no love in you, Sakarabru. There never was and there never will be.”

“You wound me, Khale.” He pressed one hand to his chest. “I left evidence of my love in your womb.”

She stiffened.

“And you made her my enemy,” he said callously. “Did Mkombozi ever know the truth?” He laughed. “I will admit all day long that I am a monster, Khale. But when will you admit that you are one as well?”

Angry tears fell from her eyes. “You don't know what you're talking about,” she shot back.

“The depths of your deceptions are legendary, Ancient. At least to me. Play the victim if you must, Khale, but know this:” He stepped toward her. “You will not get away with using my own flesh and blood against me again. Your reborn—our daughter—will not see the second bond.”

“I already know that you've sent soldiers out to kill her, Sakarabru. They won't get close enough to lay a finger on her!”

“Your forces are small, Khale. Your reborn is a human. If she survives all three bonds, she'll still have me to contend with, and I promise you, Daddy will be prepared this time.”

The Demon walked out into the water, pressed both arms close to his body, and began to churn, creating a giant waterspout that spun out across the ocean until Khale could no longer see it.

Mkombozi had not known that Sakarabru was her father, and Eden would never know, either. But Khale knew. And he knew. It was the reason that Mkombozi and now Eden had been designated the Redeemer. Only the offspring of the Demon could bond with the Omens because they were made from the most powerful and dangerous elements of him and were already a part of her.

 

WAKE-UP CALL

Seer twins Ursa Minor and Ursa Major looked more like eight- or nine-year-old children than Ancient Seers. They squealed and jumped up and down with delight when they saw Runyon dumping out bags of chocolate and red licorice and unloading bottles of rum all over the kitchen table. He laughed at their enthusiasm as they both grabbed handfuls of candy and alcohol, ran circles around him, and collapsed on the floor at his feet.

This place looked like something out of a storybook. A warm, inviting fire burned in the fireplace. Pretty wallpaper with yellow flowers and pristine white-painted wainscoting decorated the walls, along with framed photographs of two girls, both with curly red hair tied with pink ribbons, bright blue eyes, and rose-colored cheeks, together, always smiling and indistinguishable.

Eden soon realized that those images were glamour images of the Troll Sisters, but in reality, they looked like trolls wearing blue ribbons in the thin and oily strands of dirty-blond hair.

“How are my girls doing?” Runyon asked enthusiastically, kneeling down next to them.

“What took you so long?” the one on the left asked.

“You said you were coming weeks ago. We've been waiting.”

“Forgive me,” he said, apologetically. “I lost track of time, but I promise I'll make it up to you.”

The one on the left looked over his shoulder. “Who is he?” she asked, referring to Prophet standing in front of the door. Eden stood right next to him, but they only asked about him, which she found odd.