New Title 1 (14 page)

Chapter Twenty Two

Dyam felt his cells knead themselves back together as he materialized in the middle of the small village. Seldom did he risk teleporting in the open or so close to sunrise, but Yara’s urgent phone call had twisted his brain. He had noticed her absence and sudden departure but Yara did that sometimes. She often disappeared for a few days then returned, slept for a few more, then was ready to socialize with the others. She was odd like that. Maybe that was exactly what attracted him to her
–
her impulsiveness and her contagious sense of freedom. Since the early days after they met, Dyam had learned not to try and figure out where or what she did when she went away. Even though it killed him to see her return with suspicious marks on her skin. They weren’t the same all the time, and not always did he notice them. But often enough there would be burned marks around her wrists, or her neck would carry bite marks, or open wounds would mar her beautiful full lips. Dyam wasn’t a fool and hadn’t been born yesterday – let’s just say they weren’t the tell tales of vanilla sex. He had tried to talk to her, find out what she was getting herself into, only to be shut out with a grunt or an angry retort. After her first outburst, Dyam thought she’d never talk to him again, only to be stunned when she emerged from her beauty sleep two days later and jumped up and down so glad she was to see him. And just like that, he forgot all her bizarre behavior and enjoyed her lightness of being. Yep, Yara was that contagious. So, very early on he learned to respect her privacy and just wait for her to return.

Never had he expected her to reach out and ask for help.

When his cellphone rang and he heard her weak voice on the other end, his rational, leveled mind stood no chance against his protective nature. He just listened to her instructions and dematerialized. Thank the Soartas that he had been to that village in the north of Brazil before, otherwise it would have taken him much longer to reach it. Not every vampire could master teleportation and the ones who did knew better than to materialize into unknown territory. Bad things could happen.

Shaking off the bad feeling in his gut, Dyam crossed the dirt road and entered the only bar in the vicinity. This had to be it. Yara had told him she’d be waiting inside.

Despite the late time in the night, the joint was packed with humans. A three-man band entertained the several patrons who were dancing, drinking and making out, in the most stress-free way one would ever see. A few guys paused what they were doing and stared at Dyam as he walked in, but he ignored them, just focusing on making his way through the crowd to find Yara.

He was much taller than everyone else in the joint, but still he couldn’t spot her at first glance. Damn the Soartas, where was she? Was she in danger? Was she hurt? She had never asked him for help, ever, so for her to call him and ask him to come and pick her up, was an obvious hint she was in big trouble. He just hoped to find her before
trouble
got to her first.

The band ended the song and the leader announced it was time to pack up and go home, which earned him a passionate wave of “awws” and “ahhhs” from the festive, and very sweaty, patrons. As the crowd dispersed, Dyam stretched his neck and scanned the place again.

Bingo.

There she was – in the back, sitting alone at a table near the fire exit.

He walked over, but as he closed the distance between them, he noticed how much thinner she had gotten. She must have been very tired or weak because she looked as if she had shrunk,
literally
. Her distinctive short spiky hair was hidden under a beige turban, her slim body was covered by a simple dress made of the some thin material. Dyam frowned.
Yara wearing beige?
Something was definitely wrong.

“Yara, what happened?” he asked, touching her shoulders, a light request for her to turn around.

As she did, he was met by angelic features instead of Yara’s mature splendor.

Dyam’s jaw dropped, he was lost for words.

This was not Yara, even though she looked a lot like his friend. He stared numbly at her, unable to shake his surprise off. She bore the same large brown eyes, the same long lashes, high cheeks and thick lips. But her inmã was much younger, much … purer than Yara’s. The word
untouched
was whispered in his mind. Dyam’s gut clenched, his cock came alive in a very unfashionable and inconvenient way.

Thank the Soartas that before he embarrassed himself like a school boy on his first day at the pool, the girl stood up from her seat and asked him something in Portuguese. By Apa Dobrý, she even sounded like Yara! But she was a tad shorter and her shoulders slenderer. Nonetheless, her beauty was mesmerizing.

“I … I apologize, miss, I mistook you for a …”

“Dy!” Yara’s husky voice caught him by surprise.

They both turned to look at the side door frame from which Yara had just emerged.

“Yara,” he replied already scanning her body for signs of lethal injuries. Her jeans pants had blood smears around the knees and so did her white T-shirt. She carried a large backpack, which she was struggling to balance over her shoulders. Dyam cursed silently and went to help her out, but the young girl whom he had foolishly mistaken for Yara beat him to the task. In no time she had lunged forward and grabbed the large backpack off Yara’s hands. Yara winced by the abrupt gesture, but thanked the girl anyway.

“What happened?” Dyam asked, trying to understand what in Hiad was happening. Who was that girl?

“I’ll explain later,” Yara said as she strode past him and reached for the small glass on the table. She then emptied the tall beer bottle on her glass and drained it in one go. “Just take me home.”

“Yara!” the girl shrieked timidly.

Yara turned around and presented the girl with her attention.

“You need care, the wounds are not sealed,” the younger version of Yara murmured as if talking out of turn was unacceptable. Her thick Portuguese accent was simply delicious and made her look even more adorable.

“Thanks for everything you did for me, Naiah, but I’m fine now, go home,” Yara replied, then reached out for the backpack. As she attempted to swing it over her shoulders, she grimaced and tumbled sideways.

Dyam stretched out and helped her find her footing. Naiah did the same. Their arms brushed each other and Dyam felt her warmth seep through to him like a summer heat wave. She gave him a flitting look, then returned her attention to her … cousin, sister? What was their connection?
Who was that girl?

“Yara, please, let me take care of you,” she pleaded.

“What’s going on here?” Dyam asked, unable to hold his temper in check with both women so close around.

Yara blew out a long breath. “Dy, I came over to…”

She paused mid-sentence, and looked toward the main exit. Dyam knew exactly why because he had heard it too.

A war cry in the distance.

Naiah gasped. “Oh, Mighty Soartas, she found us!”

“Time to get out of here,” Yara said giving him a knowing look, which meant –
that’s why I called you
. Just like that, the powerful, determined fighter Dyam knew Yara was showed her presence again.

And when faced with mightiness, one should only bow. Dyam nodded to the green sign flashing the word
Saída
and said, “Follow me.”

The three of them crossed the fire exit as more war cries echoed somewhere outside the old bar. Whoever it was, it was getting closer.

“Lock your hands in mine,” he instructed both women as they stepped out into the backyard.

“No,” Yara commanded. “She stays.”

“Nooo!” Naiah hollered.

“Yes,” Yara replied.

“You
have
to take me with you!”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t”

“That’s not an answer!”

“Well, it is mine. You’re staying.”

“Am not!”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not!”

“LADIES!” At Dyam’s shout both women stopped and glared at him like they were ready to rip his head off. Yep, they were definitely sisters of some sort. “I think we have no choice,” he stated then pointed at the group of Amazon warriors that had just emerged by the edge of the forest, bordering the backyard. And they weren’t happy.

“Shit!” Yara cursed.

“You’re mine, cousin!” a short woman with painted face bellowed. She was advancing fast, with murder in her eyes.

Dyam didn’t think twice. He grabbed Naiah’s hand and offered his other one to Yara. “It’s now or never.”

Yara let out a sharp breath, then rolled her eyes and clutched her hand in his.

With both fiery women in tow, Dyam dematerialized out of the village. As the distinguishing free-fall feeling of teleportation overwhelmed his senses, one thought flooded his mind. How in Hiad was he going to survive two Yaras?

**********

From the roof above, Rafe watched as Dyam dematerialized away with Yara and the other witch in tow. Fucking vampires. A wave of rage filled his heart. Why, he had no fucking clue, but he oh-so wanted to pounce out of the shadows and rip that vampire’s jugular open. The way he had held his hand out to Yara, the way she accepted his offer was simply unnervingly vile.

After leaving Yara in the care of the young girl in the jungle, Rafe had kept his distance but hadn’t left them out of his sight. Yeah, he could tell himself he was still trying to find out the real reason why she would come all the way to the Amazon, face the wrath of her clan just to get some herbs and insects, but in reality, he just couldn’t make his feet turn around and go away. Yara had been severely injured and he didn’t know how good a fighter that Naiah girl was. What if they got ambushed by a herd of jaguars, or worse, the witch cousin returned? He had stalked them as they went around the jungle and found a plantation of some sort. He had silently stood watch as Naiah made a patty out of some herbs and mud and placed it on Yara’s ugly wounds. He had cringed when Yara’s skin fizzed under the weird mixture. His saliva had helped seal the gash a bit, because a shifter’s saliva had some healing powers. That’s why he had forced Yara to turn on her tummy so that he could pluck that fucking arrow out and minimize the damage. But the stubborn woman wouldn’t budge, and the arrow had pierced deep into her flesh. The wound it had left behind had been ugly and dangerously close to her lungs.

Nevertheless, even though it must have hurt like a bitch, Yara had stood strong when Naiah rubbed the smelly paste over the exposed flesh. Yara had cringed and cursed of course, but she didn’t shy away from what needed to happen. It was obvious that she was on a mission and that she wouldn’t let her personal pain come between getting what she wanted.

What a woman.

Rafe exhaled silently and shook his head. When he first saw her in London his prick had jumped alive like a cub’s in front of a Playboy pinup. Well, no surprise there, Yara was stunning. But the way he reacted to her was not good. His mouth watered as Naiah undid Yara’s dress to properly tend to her wounds. The girl had slowly drawn it down along Yara’s toned arms, revealing two delicious small breasts on a lean torso. The thought of licking Yara again made his loins throb and his mind go fuzzy. A low growl reverberated along his muzzle. There was something about that woman that drove his wolf wild. Rafe didn’t believe in love at first sight, or the soul mate B.S. For him there was a very good explanation for that feeling those stupid fairy tales went on and on about – lust. Not love at first sight,
lust
at first sight. The purest of all emotions. So much so that when the witches closed in on Yara at the bar, Rafe hadn’t blinked. He jumped up on the roof and got ready to strike. Only now did he realize that he had been about to reveal himself, to ruin his cover.

And then the vampire Indian showed up out of nowhere and saved the day before Rafe had had the chance to do it himself.

How fucking ironic.

Now he’ll have to find his way back to New York alone and explain to Phillip why he still had no idea why Yara had come to Brazil.

Perfect.

Chapter Twenty Three

Streams of a thousand colors blinded Zoricah’s vision. They engulfed her, churned her, choked her. She was drowning, drowning in colors.

She opened her eyes, startled.
What in Hiad?
She was in Apa Sâmbetei? But she didn’t remember crossing, or even intending to do so!

She glanced around, assessing her surroundings. The characteristic mist of the Land of the Souls was thick, almost impenetrable. She heard the sound of water flowing somewhere far away.

“So, I’m still before the First River,” she thought to herself. 

She took a step forward then paused. The ground didn’t feel solid, or full of tricky rocks like it was meant to be. It felt soft and wobbly, like standing on a water mattress.

Oh, crap.

Unable to keep her balance, Zoricah tumbled down on her knees. But to her surprise, instead of bouncing off the ground, her body went right through it. Down she went, free-falling into a pit of colors.  Streams of bright shades of red, yellow, blue, green crossed in front and around her, as if they were schools of fish swimming with the current. Suddenly everything went dark and her body jolted into stillness, suspended in the air by invisible strings. Then slowly the darkness receded and she came across a grey world in front of her.

Everything was grey. The beach ahead, the trees, the clouds but it didn’t matter because she felt
sooo
good. She had crossed to the Second River. Pure ecstasy enveloped her concerned mind and lifted her spirits. Wow, the sand touching her bare feet was amazingly soft, the air caressing her skin was like velvet on her cheeks!

The three rivers of Apa Sâmbetei were like dimensional portals. The more one crossed the farther away from the living realm,
Terhem Viahta
, one became. The Third River was the final one. Once crossed, the inmã could not return to be encased by a physical body anymore, even if it wanted to. The rivers changed the composition of the soul, cleansing it. As a Calathor, Zoricah had the rare power to cross spiritual realms as she pleased. Only a handful of people were born every millennium with that power. She could thank her dear father, Ucidhere, for hers. He was the almighty Lord of Apa Sâmbetei, keeper of all inmãs, and a pain in the ass.

Z sat down and slowly dug her bare feet into the soft grey sand. She let her tired
body relax and allowed herself to enjoy the complete state of ecstasy the Second River provided. There were no colors in this dimension, just feelings. She lay down on her back and let the light breeze caress her arms. Oh, it had been so long since she felt that way. Wouldn’t it be great to be able to stay there forever? Leave everyone behind? Her life would be so much easier…

Images of Tardieh flooded her mind. His hungry, green eyes gazing at her as if she was the only woman in the world; his strong arms holding her tight, keeping her safe; his hands brushing the sensitive skin around her nipples. Z was suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling of being complete for the first time in her life, as if she had just fallen in love with Tardieh all over again. Wet tears filled her eyes.

Damn the Soartas, why couldn’t she be open with him, tell him what was going on? She hated hiding things from him. He deserved to know she was expecting a child … his child. Well, that was the figure of speech of the century because a
child
was what she was so
not
expecting. She had no idea what was growing inside her. Would it be a vampire, a dragon, or a weird mix? Would it even survive the entire tenure of her pregnancy? Would
she
?

“Oh, for the love of Apa Dobrý!” she scorned at herself and sat up. There were so many questions hovering in her head, keeping her awake at night. She absolutely detested that feeling of uncertainty, of not being in control of her own fate. “By the gates of Hiad!” she cursed again.

She rubbed her eyes and tried to focus on her current conundrum. “What in Hiad am I doing here?”

The soft sound of giggles caught her attention.

She turned around and saw a baby girl hiding behind a grey sycamore tree.

Hmm, that’s odd.

The girl poked her head out again, and as soon as she saw Zoricah staring back at her, she shrieked and ducked back into hiding. More giggling echoed on the grey landscape.

“Hi, there,” Z called out, slowly.

Curious about the playful little inmã, she pushed off the sandy ground and treaded slowly toward the girl. But instead of approaching from the left, she tiptoed her way to the right. She circled around the large grey tree and found the girl with her back to her, poking her head out on the opposite side. The cutie was probably only two or three years old. She was barefoot and wore a plain cotton dress that reached her ankles. Her long midnight black hair cascaded smoothly down her back. Very much like Zoricah’s.

“Boo!” Z cried out.

The girl jumped in surprise and shrieked. Then, giggling her heart out, she ran away as fast as her short, chubby legs could carry her.

A light chuckle escaped Z’s lips. She wasn’t a motherly kind of person, but somehow that little possum had warmed her heart.

“OK, little one,” she said fondly, “you better run because I’m coming!”

The girl gave out another screech and disappeared between the trees. Z jogged leisurely after her.

A thick fog appeared out of nowhere and closed in around her, turning the grey world into a puzzling mystery. Zoricah paused. This was not right. There was no mist on this side of the Second River.

The girl’s giggles echoed in the distance. Z took a few cautious steps forward. Shit, she didn’t know where she was but this was so not the Second River anymore. She had never been in that part of Apa Sâmbetei.

One more step. More giggling, now coming from the right. Two more steps. Silence.

What in Hiad?

Z swallowed dry as her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Her eyes and ears were wide alert; her fighter’s gut told her to get out of there and fast. Something wasn’t right. She wasn’t supposed to be here. She turned around and was about to run back when a massive wind tunnel trapped her in. It pulled her off her feet and sucked her up.

Oh, crap. This was so not good. She had only heard rumors about the wind tunnel. It was the beginning of the Third River! Never had a calathor crossed this way and returned. Desperately, she looked around in search for something that could stop her rapid ascent, but only found people
–
inmãs that had died, gone through the cleansing rituals of the two first Rivers and were now ready to join the other souls in the Gardens of Apa Sâmbetei.

Z shouted out, begging them to hold her hand, but they didn’t hear her. With utter dread, she realized she could not hear herself either. It was as if they were all trapped inside a void, a tunnel of nothing.

No!
This could not be happening! She was not dying, not now! 

It was so unfair that her time in Terhem Viahta was being cut short. She hadn’t finished her mission, she hadn’t said goodbye to anyone. Oh, Tardieh. Z’s heart felt tight in her chest with the thought of her husband whom she would never be able to be with again.

A million sparks exploded above. Zoricah lifted her arms, protecting her head and eyes.

Then, the wind tunnel stopped. 

But she didn’t fall down, nor did she crash on solid ground or against a ceiling for that matter. The world was simply stable again.

She slowly pulled her hands down, uncovering her face, and gasped at what stood in front of her.

The Gardens of Apa Sâmbetei. The Land of the Souls.

It was absolutely beautiful. They were not the meticulously manicured, flowery sort of gardens; no, they were even more striking in a natural, untouched sort of way, as if she had gone back in time, to the millennia before nature was ruined by civilization, paved roads and sky rises. Mountains filled with native trees carpeted the vale before her. Butterflies danced in the air, birds flew leisurely past. Everything looked so fresh, so full of …
life
. She spotted a red fruit, just hanging off a branch. It looked deliciously ripe, ready for plucking. But once her eyes focused on it, if dropped to the ground, then rapidly turned sour, decaying before her eyes. In mere seconds, it had become nothing but dust, consumed into the soil below. At that precise moment, another juicy fruit blossomed on the very same tree.

“Holy Apa Dobrý!” Zoricah gasped. She was seeing life take its course before her very eyes, like a movie in fast forward mode. What was interesting was that as soon as the fruit faded into dust, another one blossomed.

“Not another one,” a low-timbered voice uttered behind her.

Zoricah gasped in surprise then turned around.

“The same one,” her father, Ucidhere, God of Death, lord of the Land of the Souls, added.

He was a very imposing figure, but was the opposite of those depictions of deities humans were so fond of. His strong jaw wasn’t covered by white beard; he wasn’t wearing a tunic or leather sandals. Instead, he was impossibly tall, with broad shoulders, thick biceps and a fantastic pair of topaz-honey eyes that sucked everyone into his lies like a moth to the light. Z had long learned not to be fooled by his looks.

He was cradling a small white creature in his arms. It had the face and legs of a bunny rabbit but the body and tail of a dragon. The cute/creepy animal was in pure bliss as Ucidhere’s long fingers scuffed the back of its fluffy ears.

“In my Garden, the circle of life never ends, Zoricah. Once a fruit turns to dust, it is immediately born again, as seed,” the god stated as if Zoricah had never heard the rules of Apa Sâmbetei before.

Her blood boiled in her veins. “I knew it,” she mumbled sourly. “Only
you
would have done this to me.”

Ucidhere lifted a thick black brow at her. “Careful child. I am your father, and your god.”

And I don’t freaking care.
Zoricah had to contain herself as rage engulfed her heart. “You brought me to the Gardens of Apa Sâmbetei before my time,” she said through clenched teeth. “I wasn’t supposed to die now!”

Before today, she wouldn’t have dared use that tone with the mighty God of Death but right now she couldn’t give a fuck.
He
had cut her life short for what? To be amused by her pain of being set apart from Tardieh?

“What have I done to deserve so much distrust from my own daughter?” Ucidhere asked in the best poker face Zoricah had ever seen.

She took a deep breath and forced her nerves to calm down. “Father, I know you never cared much for rules, but calling my inmã to the Gardens earlier than its time is a very low blow, even for you!”

“And why would I do that?”

“Who knows?” she bellowed. “Only
you
understand your sick mind! Maybe you just wanted Tardieh’s powerful inmã for your little collection and know that his soul is tied to mine! But Zmyzel will never let you get away with it, father, never. She’ll tear you into pieces when she finds out.” Zmyzel was Ucidhere’s opposite, and the only being he was scared of in the whole wide world. 

“I do enjoy a good row with the fiery Goddess of Life,” he consented.

“You’re unbelievable!” Zoricah said, exasperated. “My inmã has crossed the Third River, father, I can’t go back! Do you even care?”

“Oh, stop whining like a spoiled child!” Ucidhere retorted. “Not everything is about you and your precious King.”

Zoricah opened her mouth to complain but stopped. “What do you mean?”

“You are a Calathor, Zoricah, you can go back and forth between realms as much as you want,” he answered briskly. “I thought you knew that after so many years under your belt.”

Ignoring his subliminal insult, she retorted, “Of course I knew that, but no other calathor has come this far and returned to tell the tale!”

“Because they weren’t the sons of two Gods, now, were they?”

What?
Zoricah froze in place. Her jaw dropped. “Two gods?”

Ucidhere stared blankly at her then he waved his hand in the air, dismissing her question all together. “Oh, you’ve always bored me with your impertinent questions, Zoricah. I promise you, by the love of me, if you weren’t my child, I would have cut your tongue out a long time ago.”

She wanted to press her father, ask him what in Hiad was he talking about, but before she could utter a word, Ucidhere carried on.

“I did bring you here, but I didn’t call your inmã,” he stated, stroking the cute-creepy creature in his arms. “I wanted you to come and see it for yourself.”

“See what for myself?”

“See what is at stake if you fail to carry the inmã inside you to Terhem Viahta.”

Zoricah blinked a couple of times. “What do you mean?” she asked in a small voice.

“I mean this.” Ucidhere waved his hand as if opening a curtain and a new world was opened out before Zoricah’s eyes.

Dracos, vampires, fey people and several other creatures were congregating on a clearing. All races were merry and seemed to be celebrating, feasting. They were sheltered by huge slabs of stone that were aligned in three concentric circles. The outer one, which encased the other two, must have been more than 300 feet in diameter. Males, females and children were dancing around the loops of stone. They were all dressed in animal skin and woven flax. The sun shone brightly in the sky but none of the vampires there seemed to mind it. The little girl who had lured Zoricah away from the Second River was playing with a couple of other children. Her eyes met Zoricah’s. She gasped in surprise and then darted toward them.