Those Who Fear the Darkness (BloodRunes: Book 2) (18 page)

Katya screamed her fury as the man kept
coming at her. As he neared she reached for him with clawed hands,
grabbing and tearing at anything she could.

Her eyes widened in hatred as she saw what
the man was holding open towards her, obviously hoping to get close
enough to clasp it around her neck.

A collar.

She clamped her lips together and glared at
him, using her revulsion of the collar to fuel a stream of power
that she sent at whatever spell was holding her feet, igniting it
in magical blue flames and ignoring the pain as it burned through
her flesh as well.

She held the assassin’s gaze steadily even
amidst the crackling of burning skin and as the horrible stench hit
her nostrils. She was rewarded by the widening of his eyes and she
let a smile slowly spread across her face. His eyes flicked towards
her feet.

She felt the spell give way and she tugged at
her foot, stealing a glance at her hosts with a wild hope that they
were still alive. Gerald was holding Evelyn’s wound closed, and
watching in horror as thick black ooze seeped out from both their
injuries. He glanced at Katya, indecision over staying with his
wife or helping Katya ward off their attacker warring within
him.

“I’m fine,” she yelled to him, her adrenaline
from seeing them still alive allowing her to rip her foot free.

The man’s advance suddenly faltered. His left
hand flew to his back while his right clumsily grabbed at another
object on his belt.

Katya sprung forward, taking advantage of his
unexpectedly slowed movements. She wrenched her charred ankle as
she tore the other foot free, and batted the object away from him
while she balled a fist at his face. Out of the corner or her eye,
she saw a small shape zooming towards them and she smiled as she
recognized it as Marak.

The man’s time was short now. She let out a
triumphant shout and smashed her fist into his nose. Blood poured
out and his head snapped back with considerable force.

Marak had reached him now, and Katya could
see him biting the man all the way up his leg, on his stomach, his
chest, and finally he sunk his fangs into the man’s throat, ending
his cries of pain in a gurgle as the sharp teeth punctured his
windpipe again and again.

She limped over to the couple’s side, and
knelt before them. The black liquid had spread far, like dark
spider webs beneath their skin. She knew she was too late and she
clasped their intertwined hands in her own.

“I’m so sorry,” she told them, knowing they
were dying and knowing she was helpless to stop it. She also knew
with dark certainty that it had been her that had brought this to
their door.

She was met only with sympathy and sorrow.
“Hush now,” Evelyn said, gasping out her last breaths, “This isn’t
your fault. We’ve been waiting for this day.” Katya gave her a
puzzled expression.

Gerald shuffled across the floor with
difficulty and pried a floorboard loose. His shaking hand dug
something out from underneath and he handed her a small wrapped
package. “Please,” he pleaded with her, “find our daughter and
bring this to her. It’s very important…she deserves to know who she
is too.”

“What’s her name?” Katya asked, blinking back
tears as she watched as the poison took hold. The fine tendrils
were creeping up their necks now, and they swallowed with
difficulty.

Their breathing became forced and they
blinked their eyes as if trying to clear them as the black slowly
overtook their pupils and then spread to the whites as well. Their
eyes turned totally black and Gerald inhaled with difficulty, his
last breath uttering the answer to her question.

“Layna.”

*

Nathair swore. Obsessing over the events that
had transpired with the new talent he had ordered to be followed
only brought up more questions than he had answers to. His elite
guardsman had reported that she had visited a couple in Elbridge,
only to have them be attacked and killed by an unknown
assassin.

Furthermore, the attacker had been carrying a
very interesting contraption which had been gone by the time
Nathair could go back to retrieve it. Unfortunately, the guard had
been forced to interfere to ensure the girl’s safety and had
therefore needed to flee before he was found out so he had been
unable to obtain additional information or take the device. Nathair
needed to know where the assassin had gotten it from.

Not only was Nathair’s curiosity more
thoroughly piqued, but the commotion had caused his stone-bond to
the woman to be severed, so he was for the moment without either of
his girls.

“Not without me though, my dear,” his mother
purred to him. He stiffened and refortified his mind shields.

“I would appreciate you staying out of my
head,” he growled at her.

“There are other places I’d rather be,” she
breathed at him, her hand straying towards his nether region.

He refused to respond and she pouted.

“How goes your little pet project in
Treymayne?” she asked him, moving away to spread her perfect form
over the sofa.

He debated talking to her or not, but decided
that having someone to mull it over with wouldn’t hurt. It wasn’t
as if she was going to tell anyone his plans. “She’s arrived and
presented our offer to them, but she’s gotten no response yet. They
seem to be still in discussion over whether or not to believe if
our offer is sincere.”

“Which of course it isn’t.”

“Only so far as it will gain us a better
advantage when we are capable of proceeding forward with our plans
to take over.”

“And what will you do once you’ve gained
control over their lands as well?”

“Solidify my leadership over them of course.
I will be unstoppable.”

“And prepare for the Sleeping God’s return?”
she asked, a trifle too innocently. He narrowed his eyes.

“Yes, yes. I will spread the mark throughout
our two countries, spread it far and wide so that the God’s seed is
planted everywhere. When I take my place my children shall be my
kingdom.”

“Are you the god or is He?” his mother asked
with mocking laughter in her voice.

“His blood runs in my veins, I will be his
manifestation. I will be Him and He will be Me!”

His mother didn’t answer. He strode to the
mirror and admired his form. He was indeed godlike. He stood closer
and fingered the stone that hung around his neck. With mild
surprise, he realized that it was stuck to his chest. He picked at
it, unconcerned by this development. It simply meant that he was
becoming one with it, and by extension one with Nuko, the Sleeping
God.

As much as he hated to admit it, his mother’s
presence was creating a rather uncomfortable swelling in his pants.
He wished one of his girls were here. They would be the ideal
mates.

Until then, he would have to make do with
what he could find. He opened himself to the power and felt around
for a talent who ‘tasted’ female.

Finding one sufficiently strong enough to be
worthy of his attentions, he took a black cloak off its hook and
swung it around his broad shoulders on his way out of the room. His
mother called out something lewd to him, but he ignored her. He
would not give her the pleasure of breaking down and using her.
Besides, this way he was continuing what the Dark King had started
and populating the world with only those worthy of continuing to
exist once he had reached his exalted state.

He crept through the palace and snuck out
through a hidden entrance, commanding the wall in front of him to
shimmer and disappear and he stepped out into the garden. It was a
beautiful night, cloudless, and the stars brightly shone, the
moon’s light guiding his way.

The one he had sensed wasn’t far into the
city and he found her swiftly, spiriting her away into one of the
abandoned alleyways that had mysteriously been devoid of any
riff-raff lately.

He smiled to himself.

Her eyes opened wide in surprise as she
appeared in his arms, and she struggled in his grasp. She obviously
didn’t recognize him as her God. He clamped a hand over her mouth
and fumbled with the laces of her dress, his fingers clumsy in his
excitement.

She bit his hand and he let go of her in
surprise that she would turn on him. She turned to flee, and he
backhanded her roughly.

That was no way for her to treat her God.
Especially when he was blessing her by his attentions and allowing
her the honor of bearing his offspring.

He forced her to turn towards him again, but
she continued to squirm so he placed his thumb on her throat and
pushed
. She struggled for a few moments longer, clawing at
his hand around her neck and her eyes bulged as she choked for air.
Shortly, her hands fell to her sides and her eyes closed, her face
bright red.

He relaxed his hold.

He didn’t want her dead.

She collapsed into a heap and he lifted her
back up, nonplussed by her unconsciousness.

He made short work of his business, having
only been excited all the more by the violence, and he left her
used form on the ground, confident that the tryst had been fertile.
Gods had a way of doing that, he thought smugly.

Sated, he returned to the palace and found
his mother still lounging on the couch in his rooms. She didn’t say
anything, and he ignored her. After a few minutes of silence, she
shook her head at him.

“What are you going to do about the Order?”
she asked him, avoiding the issue of where he had just gone to.

“They are nothing to worry about now, let
them squabble amongst themselves. Karl seems to have gotten himself
into some trouble and someone took care of that one for me. Several
other of the leaders have disappeared as well. I suspect that they
are starting to turn on one another.”

“Oh? You wouldn’t have anything to do with
that now would you?”

He just smiled, in a much better mood since
his little jaunt into town. “They are wasting their time, as usual.
It’s quite amazing that they’ve survived as long as they have.” He
sat and started drumming his fingers on the desk in front of him.
“It’s a shame that I was unable to find any of the other books,
however. They did do a rather good job of going underground since
the last meeting. Ah well.”

“Shouldn’t you be trying to find the spells
necessary to wake the Sleeping God?” she urged him.

“In time,” he told her a trifle
condescendingly. He didn’t like her tone. He had risen far beyond
what she had ever achieved and he didn’t intend to let her order
him around anymore. She may have slept her way to becoming a
baroness; but he had, through skill and cunning, made his way to
the throne, and would soon be taking his place among the gods.

CHAPTER 9

Jezebel thanked Devon and dismissed him. She
was definitely beginning to see why she had kept him on so long.
Even long-distance he had been able to see to it that her father’s
estate was smoothly transferred to her, and had even hidden away
many of the assets from her sister’s husband so that they missed
out on the inheritance.

She smiled.

She was happy to have that mess taken care of
as she was going to have to focus her full attention on the meeting
this afternoon with the Treymayne council. Apparently they had some
informant who was claiming that Gelendan had been planning a war,
and that the informant was somehow connected to her. Though her
memory was fast returning, the fact that she was unable to fathom
who it might be was adding to her frustration.

But she would find out soon enough. She was
to hear their accusations this afternoon and answer them.

Personally she didn’t see how they would dare
question her authority, but since she was in their country now
she’d have to play along, as annoying as it may be. At first
glance, she hadn’t thought that they were much different from
Gelendan, but as she learned more about it she was surprised at how
much actually was different.

Things that in Gelendan were considered
rarities and status symbols, such as the remaining spells on her
manor, were commonplace here and even more surprising were put into
new homes as the knowledge of how to do it was commonplace as well.
People could hire talents to perform spells that they were unable
to do themselves without any kind of permit from the priests or
anyone else. There were some regulations - Devon had explained them
to her - but for the most part magic was freely used. She was happy
to note, however, that the number of high talents did not seem to
be overly abundant, and the price of hiring one was still quite
steep for anything other than healing.

She had also been taken off-guard when she
had attended a temple ceremony last night and found that no one
here had yet turned to the teachings of the Sleeping God. The Three
were still universally worshiped and furthermore, their main temple
was located on the bank of the Great River down which she was told
they received the Word of the Three to this day. Jezebel was rather
skeptical about this seeing as how they were worshiping false gods,
but she had bitten her tongue on the subject as much as it had
pained her to sit through the nonsensical sermon.

She got up and paced the room irritably. This
afternoon couldn’t get here soon enough. She was well-prepped for
it and excited to be able to disprove anything that this so-called
informant thought they could catch her on. She’d already had Devon
draft together some documents that could potentially discredit
anyone who may speak against her. She had even paid a rather large
sum to one of the maids assigned to her during her stay to put in a
good word for her should the need arise. It had pained her to see
the money go into the creature’s grubby little hands, and hated to
think what it might be spent on, but she put that unhappy thought
out of her mind. If she needed the extra support, the maid was
ready to say whatever she wanted her to. For some reason they
seemed to listen to the word of even the common-folk here, and she
was prepared to take full advantage of that fact. At least there
was some benefit to the need to dole out the money to the maid: It
was the smallest bribe she’d ever had to make.