Mischief's Mate (The Immortal Mates Book 1) (34 page)

Tomas nodded, “I, Thank you. And I am sure the princess shall thank you also.”

“I do not do it for thanks. Believe me she will have a far darker soul because of this. But it must be done, or all hope will be lost.”

Tomas nodded in understanding. Slowly he sought Ares’ magic and then sent the energy out to Chantelle. The golden glow of their combined power spread out over her like a blanket. He started the healing by working on her surface wounds. Slowly the gashes on her arms began to knit closed. The small cut on her lip was gone as if it had never been there.

Then with all the concentration of a surgeon he began to repair her soul. The hole where her soul’s heart would be was gaping. It was ragged and weeping. As if her heart had been ripped from her chest. He felt Ares magic push at her soul and strengthen her. Bringing the warrior in her to life; awakening a sleeping giant.

Tomas knew that Ares lent his magic because he thought that Chantelle was weak. She allowed everyone to take advantage of her. Always blaming herself for everything that happened. Tomas also knew that whatever the cost, Ares would make sure she never felt that way again.

Instantly, Tomas felt her soul react to the warlord’s strength. Her soul agreed that for too long it had rolled over and taken whatever life handed it. But now it had the means to harden its mistress’s reserve. Her soul jumped at the chance.

With one last body check, Tomas was satisfied. Chantelle was once again in working order. He pulled his magic back, taking Ares along with him. The woods around them came back into view. Both immortals looked as if they had been through a war. Ares clapped him on the back letting the healer know he had done well.

Chantelle felt her eyes flutter open and steeled herself for the pain to come rushing back. But there was no tidal wave of suffering like she had anticipated; only a slow burning anger. For the first time in her life she wanted to hurt someone. To lash out at those who took from her what was never theirs to take. To make them suffer the way she had.

Before she saw her, she felt Savannah throw her arms around her shoulders. Chantelle let out a hiss and without thinking she was on her feet facing her companions. Her body had taken a defensive posture immediately.

There was a shocked look on Savannah’s face. Chantelle watched in fascination as it turned to one of sorrow. That look from Savannah would have bothered the old Chantelle, but the old Chantelle had died when that evil bitch ripped Loki from her. At the thought of her missing mate her soul throbbed. She placed a hand over her heart to ease the ache.

“’Telle, are… are you all right?”

Technically, she was fine; better than fine actually. She should have been dead by now from all the blood loss she had suffered. Though here she stood, strong and sure. Her clothes a little worse for the wear, but that was all.

She knew that Savannah was asking if she was her old self. If Chantelle was being honest her old self was gone forever and good riddance. Never would she cower when she was meant to stand strong. No, the old Chantelle was like a dearly departed loved one and all that was left was the memory. All Chantelle could do was move forward.

“No, I don’t think so.” She turned on her heel and headed to the Hummer.

Arabella stepped forward, “If you drive there, she’ll know you’re coming. She’ll know you’re strong. Signe will be ready.”

Chantelle turned on her, “So you want to be helpful now? You should have thought about that before you cost me my mate.”

“I didn’t see her coming.” Bells voice shook with emotion. She would have said more, but Chantelle held up her hand to stop her.

“Save it. I intend to finish what Signe has started.”

Chantelle headed for the jet black stallion at the head of the group of horses. As she went she grabbed up the green ribbon that had tied Loki’s hair back. He must have dropped it in his struggle to reach her. She tied it high up on her left bicep to match his Compes. She looked like a knight heading into battle; wearing the colors of his love. In her case they were the colors of her lost love. She was no knight, more like an avenging angel. Chantelle swore that she would champion her mate and her sister and may the Fates help those who dared to stand in her way.

“You cannot go after her the way you are.” Hoder had been the only one to follow her. Everyone else was too afraid after her display.

“And why not? The meek Chantelle allowed Signe to take her mate.”

Hoder’s silver unseeing eyes narrowed, Chantelle was speaking in third person and that didn’t bode well. It was as if her soul was speaking. Many who lost their Fatum Anima spoke in such a manner. It had taken Ares centuries to speak normally again. Hoder did not wish to see his sister-in-law suffer the same fate as the immortal warlord.

“Listen to him, young one.”

At the sound of Ares voice Chantelle stilled. Her soul recognized his magic. It was the same that fueled her long silent warrior.

“And what would you suggest?” She had turned to look at Ares.

He had brought her back from the dead. Had given her soul the strength it needed to free Loki from Signe’s power. The least she could do was show him respect and hear what he had to say.

Ares offered Chantelle a sun kissed hand and her eyes took in the tattoo that ringed his wrist. That’s when her mind began to put the puzzle together. The man who’s magic she was drawing on; this man before her was Ares. A Greek immortal amongst Norse immortals, it seemed so odd.

Chantelle wanted to question him. She wanted to know how they coexisted, when so many of their duties overlapped. Did they have one ruling body, or was each pantheon under a different rule? It had been something that was never covered at the Academy, and she had always wondered. But at the moment they had bigger fish to fry. Shaking herself she took his proffered hand. He led her toward the rest of the group.

Chantelle stiffened as they approached the others. Even though her soul knew the people before her, she withdrew. It didn’t matter that these people had broken bread with her. The warrior, Ares’ magic had unleashed, would not trust the people before her. Anything that stood in the way of getting to Loki was an enemy.

“What are we doing just sitting around?” Savannah asked trying to break the ice showing Chantelle that they were all on the same team.

“We need to have a plan. Signe will have Loki with her in Castle Malus. And she would be greatly remiss to not have a legion of guards at her disposal.”

Chantelle knew Tomas spoke the truth and yet a jealous streak so overwhelming began to consume her. For a moment it made the world around her blur. All she could think about was avenging Emma and Loki.

“I don’t care what any of you have planned. I will be the one to face Signe. For all she has done to my loved ones she deserves to feel my wrath.”

She turned from them and headed for her horse. No one bothered to stop her this time. They all just followed behind and mounted up. It was going to prove a long journey; one that they would have to be vigilant on.

It had been two days ride before the motley group reached their destination. As dusk fell on the second day, the dark outline of Castle Malus loomed in front of them. It was dark and foreboding; everything Tomas had tried to tell them it was. At the sight of it Savannah felt a chill run down her spine. How were they going to fight their way in there? Signe could not be so cocky as to not have guards on duty.

She rode up beside Chantelle and reached out toward her friend, but when Chantelle turned to face her Savannah knew she was different. This whole adventure had changed Chantelle. Maybe for the better or for worse.

Her friend continued to eye her. “This is not your fight, Savannah. Go back while you have the chance.”

Savannah balked at her harsh words. How dare she accuse her of cowardice? In all of her life Savannah had never considered anyone family, not the way she did Chantelle and Emma. To turn her back on either of them would be the worse disgrace she could suffer.

“We’re in this together, remember? That’s the promise we made back in that hospital room days ago. And even further back than that.”

“It’s going to get messy in there. People are going to die. Bells has already seen death first hand. But you haven’t.”

Chantelle ran a hand over the sword Thor had pulled from the ashes of their camp. It was Loki’s and now she would use it to liberate him from his vow. With it she would end that immortal bitch once and for all.

She wanted to insist that Savannah turn back. She hadn’t been lying when she told her friend people were going to die. That fact no longer bothered her, what did, was that Chantelle couldn’t be sure it wouldn’t be any of her friends.

“I’m still with you. Unless of course you go tilting at Hell’s windmills. Then you’re on your own.” Savannah waved a dismissive hand.

A flicker of a smile played across Chantelle’s lips. “Of course. I would expect nothing less.”

Savannah broke out in a soft fit of laughter. The sound of it breaking through Chantelle’s hard exterior, causing her to laugh a little as well. For the briefest of moments Chantelle was her old self again.

Tomas pulled up beside them, eyeing Chantelle as if she had gone mad. Moments ago she had looked like a warrior queen and now she was laughing. What a sight she must be to him? He had to think she had lost her mind from Ares magic.

Clearing his throat he asked, “Are you ready?”

“What is the plan?”

Tomas slowly began to fill them in on the battle plan. The men had come up with it that morning. It had its flaws but it would have to do. After all, they didn’t have much else to work with.

As Chantelle dismounted her horse, Arabella came up beside them. She removed a red velvet pouch from her waist and handed it to her.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Arabella’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Let’s just say every hero needs a secret weapon.”

Chantelle unwrapped the golden cord that held the velvet closed and peeked inside. A wide smile lit her lips when the glitter of glass met her eyes. Bells had given her an ace in the hole and she knew just what to do with it.

Signe paced the marble floor of the receiving room, knowing full well she needed to be ready. She knew they would launch a rescue party as soon as they discovered Loki missing and that mortal bitch dead. There was no way a woman as weak as Chantelle could survive a severed bond.

There was only one problem; the castle was now empty. When she had gone off on her mission all of the guards and servants took that as their chance to escape. None of them were too happy with the way she had been running things, so it didn’t really surprise her. It did annoy her though.

She now had no one to feed on, save the two guards standing watch at the gate, or the men who had come with her on the mission. Feeding from them would never do. She needed as many men as they had to fight off whatever band of warriors were sent to retrieve her prize.

Signe needed to feed badly. She would never win a fight with her body in the state it was now. Without a soul to steal she had no hope of being strong. No hope of finishing what she had started. Her hopes of ruling the immortal world would be crushed.

“You, guard, go see what the others are doing and have them meet in the outer hall.”

The guard hurried off to do what she had asked. Leaving her alone with the last remaining guard, or what she liked to refer to as dinner.

“Come here.” Signe beckoned the guard over.

He moved closer to her and his fear rolled off of him in waves. A smile pulled at her cracked lips. Her victims always tasted better if they were afraid. She grabbed the guard with the strength of ten men.

As he struggled Signe begun the ritual chant; slowly his life ebbed out before her eyes. She saw every scene in vivid detail. As the last of his life ebbed out of him into her, the images stilled. As the magic released its hold on him, the guard’s lifeless body hit the floor. Her strength once more returned.