The Death Skull: Relic Defender, Book 2 (5 page)

At that moment, her upper arms were roughly grabbed and she was dragged forward, her feet half lifted from the ground. Stunned, it took her a minute before she registered the two sun-darkened men hauling her like a sack to the pyramid. Their bare skin glistened with sweat. The extent of their clothing was a loin flap covering their genitals. Around their calves, some kind of fringed decoration fluttered as the men walked. Painted symbols colored each man’s skin. No pattern was duplicated on the other. On top of their heads, they wore huge headdresses with wide mouths that seemed to snarl at anyone who looked at them.

What the hell? Who were these guys and what kind of game was Michael playing?

She glanced down and almost choked. Fires of Hell. Gone was her black denim jeans, long-sleeved white T-shirt and matching denim jacket. In their place was a tan animal-hide tunic that reached just below her knees. Trousers of the same material peeped out from under the hem of the tunic.

Her clothing was torn and dirty, the edges shredded and, in some places, blackened as if she’d gotten too close to a fire. Thin sandals covered her feet, a gold bracelet twisted around one ankle. Much like the men dragging her roughly across the uneven surface, her arms, sans designs, were golden brown, not her usual pale skin. The humans’ no-nonsense strides and tugging pulled her directly toward the pyramid.

Michael
, she thought-sent, knowing he’d hear her even if she couldn’t see him. No response. She didn’t even detect a flicker of the angel’s presence. He’d brought her here, dumped her in the middle of something, minus at least a portion of her abilities, and just left her behind. Bloody angel.

A yank on her arm snapped her to attention. Enough. She snarled and dropped, her body becoming deadweight. Her limp form should have dragged them down. Instead, they held her upright, their fingers pinching the flesh of her underarms. The pain surprised her briefly.

She swore. Time to play rough. She stomped on the inside of the left foot of the guy on her right while simultaneously attempting to jerk her arm from his grasp. To no avail. She remained locked in his solid grip. The only satisfaction she had was his soft grunt—the entire extent of his reaction to her efforts. The men didn’t hesitate or slow their purposeful pace to the pyramid.

She dug in her heels. The only thing that did was push dirt into her sandals as the men kept dragging her forward. The guy on her left turned to her and snarled, full lips parting and showing his even, yellow teeth. He said something in a guttural tone.

No matter what she did, she was ignored. Both men acted as if they were impervious to her blows. A sudden thought entered her mind.
Or I no longer have my powers.
Leftover breakfast waffles soured in her stomach. Anxiety raced through her bloodstream, her heart pounding rapidly. How could she have lost her powers? Would Michael have taken them from her?

Impossible. Though she believed he had his own agenda, she didn’t think it included her death.

You hope,
her cynical inner self mocked.
Might as well see how this plays out.

Lost in thought, she looked up when a dark shadow muted the sun. In the shade cast by the imposing pyramid, the air was cool. A slight breeze played with her hair, blowing the dark strands into her face.

Dark?
She wrenched her head around, trying to see more hair. Apparently, she now wore an entirely new persona along with her new clothes and golden skin.

Her captors halted at the first row of large square stones. The one she’d tried to stomp on threw his head back and made a loud whooping sound, a throat-rattling, guttural cry that scraped against her backbone.

The men stopped in front of a large expanse of dirt-mortared wall. Coming from behind the barrier was the sound of stone grinding against stone. One section of the huge base slid backward, leaving a narrow opening into a pitch-black interior. She saw activity—a ripple of dark. Hidden within that darkness were low growls that actually lifted the hairs on her arms.

A figure clothed entirely in brown—from the hooded head to the brush of the cloak on the dirt floor—stepped into the bright sunlight. It was hard to tell, but she felt certain the figure was male.

He lifted one hand, the fingers curled into the shape of claws. On a bony finger, a large crystal ring, shaped like a skull, winked in the bright light. The finger pointed at her, bent as if gesturing for her to enter.

“No,” she answered his unspoken demand. “I can see things fine from out here, thanks.”

From under the hood, words came, spoken in a singsong manner and soft, in deep contrast to the others’ growling tones. The men at her sides flinched, their bodies drawing away from the hooded man. Despite their obvious aversion to him, her captors shoved her forward. The point of the cloaked man’s finger touched her breastbone dead center. A shock of electricity jolted her muscles. She couldn’t stop the stunned gasp. Her reaction seemed to satisfy him.

“Bring her,” he said. After delivering a second shock in the form of her ability to now understand him, he turned to go back into the pyramid.

His approval seemed to be some sort of release for the two men. Maybe they’d feared she wouldn’t be accepted.

Accepted for what?

Without hesitation, they shoved her through the opening, where she was immediately encircled by at least three men. Beyond the three, other darker shadows shifted, giving her the sensation of more humans—or something else—in the confines of the pyramid.

Inside, the energy-sucking humidity gave way to welcoming coolness. The tiny lumps the humans called goose bumps raised along her overheated skin. Earth scents filled her nose—a mix of dirt, moisture and underneath those, a slight copper scent that tickled the back of her throat and left sweetness on her tongue.

Blood. Human blood.

Other than a faint glow ahead, she was in total darkness. Even with her demon sight—something she’d been left with—she could barely make out more than faint outlines of arches and doorframes as the figures moved from one room to another. How the humans escorting her saw their way, she had no idea.

Her pulse raced but not from fear. She had no idea what was going on—what Michael had planned for her. It didn’t matter. For the first time in weeks, her nerves tingled with excitement and energy. Alive, if she was actually human.

“Woman, do you not fear your fate?”

A sibilant whisper came from one of the humans surrounding her. With the echo in the pyramid, she couldn’t tell from which direction, but he sounded as if he was the man in brown.

“You do not reek of terror nor does your body quake. Do you not dread what will soon be your destiny?”

“No. Should I?”

“Others have.”

She snorted. “I am not like others.”

“So others have said. Yet, at the end, they died the same way. Screaming until throats bled as their soul was ripped from their bodies.”

“Ah, you see, that’s going to be a problem for you. These others had souls. I do not.”

“All beings have souls.”

“I don’t.”

“We shall see.”

Except for the dull scuff of bare feet, sandals, and the far-off
plop-plop
of water, silence reigned. Heaviness pressed down. She swallowed hard, feeling her ears pop. In the quiet, she imagined the speaker—definitely male—thinking about her claim.

Whatever he had planned for her, she had no fear. She’d spent centuries battling the worst Hell could throw and survived. There was little left that was truly threatening or dangerous. Even without her powers.

After what seemed like hours—yet she figured was likely less than thirty minutes—her footsteps got heavier, as if she was walking upward. Peering ahead, she thought she saw the pitch-black interior easing into dark gray. Was that light?

The closer she got, the more the darkness made way for light until, finally, she walked through an arch into bright sunlight which streamed from the opening cut into the side of the pyramid. Motes of dust and other particles, something that glittered, danced within the beams. The distant sounds of birds singing as they dove into the jungle or rode the thermals overhead penetrated the darkness and she shook off the foreboding tugging at her.

The sunlight and sounds outside called to her. She kept walking until she realized the men escorting her hadn’t followed. She alone stood within the warm caress of the sun. A welcome relief after the chill within the stones.

She turned around. “What’s up, guys? Afraid of a little light?”

The sunlight gliding around her body spotlighted what was in the cave at her back. The things she thought were humans escorting her had nothing in common with mortals except for their general shape, including long, thin appendages that looked like two arms and legs. Very little appeared normal.

Bent necks barely held bulging heads covered with what looked like bony protrusions. Twisted bodies ambled around, keeping well away from the sun’s brilliant glow. Yellow eyes streaked with red stared back at her. Under the bleached-white skin that seemed paper thin, things stirred, curling around as if their bodies were filled with snakes. Hungry gazes tracked her every movement.

A frisson of fear tickled her lower back. What terrible thing had twisted these creatures until they no longer resembled humans? Was this to be her fate? Maybe she had a reason to be afraid. But surely, Michael wouldn’t leave her here to die. Despite their immortality, angels and demons could be killed. It just wasn’t easy and required a special weapon.

What would happen if she rushed them? She didn’t have her powers, yet they acted as if her presence made them nervous. Enough for her to defeat them? She had a feeling any battle between her in this shape and them, despite their fragile appearance, would end badly. For her.

“Move, woman. Your time has come.”

Tearing her focus from the creatures, Mari gazed at the speaker who, as she had suspected, was the brown-clad man. Yet, despite sounding like a man, he was not. He’d pushed his hood back and she saw the same misshapen features and form as the others. While they held no intelligence in their bulging eyes, this one’s possessed the shade of a human soul, tortured and suffering.

Her skin crawled. Even as the creature’s expression turned malevolent, the mortal soul trapped within fought for freedom. Ah. The creatures were demon-possessed. Weak human shells could not contain their demon hitchhikers without warping their forms.

A twinge of sadness swept through her. The human soul was strong if it could still show itself. Not strong enough to oust the demon. Enough so it could suffer. And suffer it did. Her hand went to her side, seeking her sword’s hilt before she remembered she was weaponless.

She pinned a glare on him. “I see you.”

The demon smiled without mirth. “And I see you, fallen one. I will take great pleasure in hearing you scream.”

“You will have a long time to wait, demon.” Her gaze narrowed. “When I’m done, I’ll come back for you.”

The thing threw back its head and laughed—a sound like the skittering of claws on metal. Mari’s lips twisted. She turned around and faced the light. As she moved toward the entrance, brown hands snatched her from the cool dark into the blistering heat and the heavy, moisture-laden air.

From her vantage point, she could tell she was on a shelf cut into the pyramid near the top of the structure. Tiny figures amassed at the base, looking like ants scurrying about their business. Beyond the clearing where the pyramid took center, the jungle rose in all its emerald glory. Tall trees reached for the sky, the canopy so lush the undergrowth was stunted.

The jungle seemed to be fighting to take over the clearing, to find its way to right up to the base of the patch. Small fires dotted the edges as the humans fought back. Smoke from the burning wood and debris mixed with the scents of blood and decay.

She glanced around. Before her was a human-sized stone platform about waist-high. Rusty stains covered the pitted surface. Near the platform, on top of a column at head height, sat a crystal skull. The same one she’d seen twice. In the sun’s light, the crystal flashed as if lit from within.

Men dressed in ornate clothing, feather robes, high headdresses and necks wrapped in gold—bling, as she’d heard the humans call the jewelry—surrounded the platform and column. Peacocks. The bright colors and obvious posturing reminded her of the strutting male birds.

Her captors alternately jerked and pushed her toward the platform. When she almost fell after a particularly hard shove, she twisted her arm from one’s grasp and elbowed him in the throat. Soft flesh gave way as he went down. Choking, wheezing sounds filled the air. For a moment, none of the men moved. Their gazes locked on her, wide and bulging.

That’s right, humans. I may not have my powers, but I still know how to fight.
One of the men—his bling more plentiful than the others—spoke, his tone guttural. The other guy at her side dropped her arm and helped his companion struggle to his feet. Both men bowed to the peacocks and fled.

The lead peacock spoke again, this time to her. As before, she did not understand him. Another thing Michael took from her—the ability to know all human language, past and present.

“I do not know your words, human.”

“Our mighty king asks who you are and why are you here.”