Unleash the Storm (23 page)

He stiffened a little. “What do you mean?”

“My father has to be keeping track of Hades’ movements in Habinal City, or wherever they are. Even if he doesn’t know, he can help me find out. I can go to Earth, gather as much information as I can, and get back here before the next eclipse.”

Ash’s worry shifted to thoughtfulness. He mulled it over, and when his eyes dropped to hers, she knew he agreed.

His arms tightened, pulling her closer. “If you’re going to have enough time to collect information, you’ll need to leave immediately.”

She sagged in his embrace. “I don’t want to be apart from you again so soon either.”

His fingers touched her cheek, guiding her face up. His lips brushed softly across hers—not hesitantly, but more like he was savoring every moment of something long awaited. She wound her arms around his neck and pulled his mouth harder into hers. His gentleness vanished and he crushed her against him as though he could fuse them into one. She kissed him urgently, needing him so badly she couldn’t understand how she had waited through their whole conversation first.

She was panting for air by the time she pulled back. She just stared into his eyes, memorizing his face all over again.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly.

“I need to do anything I can to help.” She pressed against him, hiding her face against his neck and closing her eyes. “I don’t want to go, but … I have to do it. I don’t want to lose you at Asphodel right after getting you back.”

“You won’t lose me. Tenryu is practically invincible.”

“But you’re not,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter. “Every reaper in Asphodel will be targeting you, because if they kill you, they cut off Tenryu’s power.”

“We’ll be careful. We didn’t have any trouble with the army in the valley.”

“I doubt it will be that easy a second time.” She opened her eyes, gazing sightlessly at the trees as she pressed closer to him. “I can’t lose you again. I can’t bear it.”

“I have to do this,” he whispered against her hair. “This isn’t something I can walk away from.”

“I know.” She drew in a shuddering breath and let it out. Every day they had together was a gift that she wouldn’t take for granted. Raising her head, she met his eyes, seeing the same desperate need she felt reflected in his gray irises.

Then her arms were around him and their mouths were locked together. She pushed him back onto the leafy ground, sprawling on his chest without breaking their kiss. His hands were in her hair, holding her mouth against his. Breathing wasn’t necessary. All she needed was him.

If only she could freeze time so they never had to be apart again.

P
iper’s hands
tightened on the ropes attached to the spines on Tenryu’s shoulders. She was crouched tight to his back, tension making her whole body ache as she tried to ignore the dizzying vertigo of the drop behind her.

Tenryu clung to the side of a sheer cliff, his long talons sunk into the rock like ice picks into a glacier. Even the curved talons at the tops of his wings were hooked into the stone to hold his massive weight in place. In the darkness of the eclipse, it would be almost impossible to distinguish the dragon from the basalt mountain, which was why they were there.

At the other end of the valley, she could just make out the shapes of buildings. Dread curled in her belly, a slinking fear that wove through her thoughts. Memories stirred deep in her subconscious where she’d buried them—memories of dark steel cells, of tiny white rooms where innocent daemon victims were experimented on, of a large, opulent office where cruel, cunning red eyes cut through her soul and left her bleeding.

The air grew heavy and poisonous in her lungs as she stared at the distant shapes of Asphodel, the memories fighting to break free of her control.

Breathe, silver child.

Tenryu’s rumbling voice rolled through her mind, banishing the encroaching nightmares. She inhaled shakily.

“Sorry,” she mumbled. “This place brings back bad memories for me.”

She could only imagine how Ash felt about returning, and he was a lot closer than her and Tenryu. Even in darkness, the dragon was too conspicuous for a scouting mission. Hidden with a cloaking spell and moving fast, Ash was in the middle of a quick pass over the estate to get an idea of what forces Samael had at hand. He needed to know what they would be up against before they could plan their attack.

Tenryu shifted on the cliff, bouncing her slightly. She pressed closer to his warm, hard scales. Part of her mind couldn’t properly comprehend this moment—clinging to a dragon’s back on a mountain in the Underworld. How much her life had changed since that not-so-long-ago evening when her father had handed her the Sahar and casually asked her to keep it safe for the night.

Can you feel it?
the dragon rumbled.

“Feel what?” she asked with a shiver. Despite Ash’s reassurances that she could trust Tenryu, part of her still feared him. The pressure of his immense mind brushing against hers made her feel even smaller than his enormous size did.

The poison in the earth, in the air. The shuddering pain of the world’s magic.

She squinted, straining her senses, but she couldn’t sense anything out of the ordinary for this place.

“I can’t sense anything,” she admitted. “What are they doing to the magic?”

He rustled his huge wings, seemingly impatient with her lack of understanding.
The magic of the world flows across the land as arteries run beneath the skin. Here, the world bleeds.

She took that to mean he either didn’t actually know what Hades was doing to the Underworld magic or he couldn’t be bothered to explain it in a way she could comprehend. That he’d spent a thousand years trying to stop it was a concept beyond her grasp. A
thousand
years
of failure before reaching this point, failure that had driven the wedge between Tenryu and the draconian caste so deep that Nyrtaroth had invented an all-powerful weapon to defend against the dragon.

She craned her neck to get a look at Tenryu’s softly glowing blue eye.

“Is Ash different from the other Taroths you’ve … known?” She hesitated over the last word, not wanting to say “killed.”

Mortals fear death above all else
, he rumbled.
A child knows nothing of mortality, but with age, the inevitable death looms and the fear of it grows to an illness, weakening body, mind, and soul.
Ashtaroth knows his mortality but he does not fear it. His soul burns undiminished by mortal fear.

She nodded slowly. Ash didn’t fear death. To him, each day was a gift, not an expectation. He was prepared at any time to die and that was the primary reason he had always seemed so fearless to her. Yes, of course there were things that frightened him—like losing his loved ones or his willpower—but in his mind, he had already outlived his life expectancy and every day he was allowed beyond that was a fleeting, temporary offering to be cherished. And with that acceptance came a strength that the prospect of pain or death couldn’t dim.

“Is that why he survived bonding with you when so many draconians didn’t?”

His body is mortal but his soul is of the dragons.

Her gaze returned to the dark shapes of Asphodel, where Ash was scouting, unseen. If he had grown up among the other draconians, hiding in the mountains his entire life, would he still have the fearless strength he had now?

In a way, Samael had created his own worst enemy. He had punished and tortured Ash, driving him to become stronger, more determined, more fearless with each passing season. He had forged Ash’s will into unyielding steel honed by years of suffering. Samael’s ancestors had tried to wipe out the Taroths, but Samael had taken the last of their weakened bloodline and compelled him to evolve into a draconian strong enough to survive a great dragon’s fire. The irony was chilling.

Samael had never intended to allow Ash to escape and he would do everything in his power to destroy Ash, especially once he learned about Tenryu.

He returns
, the dragon rumbled, breaking into her thoughts.

She looked up. Ash shimmered into view as he dropped his cloaking spell, gliding on silent wings toward them. Relief swept through her. She’d tried hard not to worry about him—he knew better than anyone how to get around the valley unnoticed—but she hadn’t been able to completely quiet her trepidation.

He dropped down on Tenryu’s back beside Piper, breathing hard from his flight. The dragon spread his wings. Piper clutched her handholds as Tenryu pushed off the cliff wall and let go. His wings caught the air and they swept away from the mountain and the long, dark valley. She settled more comfortably as Tenryu flew among the jagged peaks, heading back toward the distant ley line they’d arrived through.

“Well?” she asked tersely, pressing her shoulder against Ash’s for the extra contact.

He unclipped his faceguard, casually holding on with the other hand—far less concerned about falling off the dragon’s back than she was. Beneath the armor, his expression was bleak.

“I’d hoped he would have sent more troops to Earth,” he said. “But the barracks in the estate and the ones in the valley are full.”

“How many soldiers are there in the valley then?”

“Over a thousand.”

She blinked. “But that’s … that’s four times the number of draconian warriors.”

“Not including any extra help Samael might have lurking in and around the estate. He usually has anywhere from a few dozen to a few hundred mercenaries hired on at any time.”

“But …” Her blood went cold in her veins, chilling her entire body. “The draconians will be too outnumbered. How will you win?”

“We have more magic and we’re better fighters. And Tenryu and I can do more damage than a hundred soldiers of any caste.”

“But …”

His eyes turned to her, grave and haunted by shadows. His fingers closed over hers. “I never said it would be easy.”

“It sounds impossible.”

“It’s not. We just have to fight smart. We’ll have the element of surprise.”

She turned her hand up so she could clutch his tightly. “I need to find out what’s happening on Earth. If he were to bring in any more troops in the next cycle …”

In a small fight, even numbers weren’t always as crucial, but in a war … How would a mere two hundred and fifty draconians plus one dragon be enough to win, especially when attacking a place as heavily defended as Asphodel?

She briefly hoped the draconians would refuse to join with Ash, but, she realized, that wouldn’t save him. He would end up fighting the entire war alone, just him and Tenryu—because neither of them were walking away from this.

Well, him, Tenryu, and her, because there was no force on any of the three worlds that could make her stay behind, suicide mission or not. She’d already gone to hell for him once and she would do it again without a second thought.

S
he would have liked
to see the draconian city, but the darkness of the eclipse was so complete that she couldn’t make out a thing. If not for his extra draconian senses for flying in the dark—an ability Tenryu must have shared—Ash would have been just as helpless without a guiding light as she was.

When the dragon landed, she created a small orb of light to hold in one hand, just enough to illuminate the small outcropping of rock they’d landed on, surrounded by the barren mountain slope. A pair of draconian guards stepped out from a shadowed crevice, eyeing Tenryu warily.

Ash slid off the dragon’s back and held out a hand to Piper. She jumped down, letting Ash catch her and set her on the ledge. Tenryu rustled his wings irritably, huffing a half-snarl at the draconian guards. The dragon was calm enough around just Ash and Piper, but the presence of other draconians had soured his mood. Bad memories, perhaps?

A loud, frantic squeal pierced Piper’s ears. Zwi came charging out of the crevice, chittering nonstop as she leaped for her master. Ash scooped her into his arms, holding her close and stroking her mane as she mewled and squeaked in a mixture of delight and distress. His absence hadn’t been hard on only Piper.

Seiya and Lyre hurried out after Zwi, followed by Raum. The older draconian’s steps hesitated as he neared the dragon but he trailed after Seiya and Lyre into Tenryu’s shadow. As Ash and Raum clasped arms in greeting, Piper looked around again, unable to see a thing beyond the faint glow of her light spell.

“Is this really their city?” she asked Seiya.

“Well, ‘city’ is a relative term. There’s a lot more space here than there are draconians. There are multiple hidden entrances and most of the city is inside the mountain.”

“I hear you plan to attack Asphodel,” Raum said to Ash.

Ash raised his eyebrows. “I may have mentioned that.”

“Before or after putting one of their warriors in the dirt?”

“Do you disagree?”

Raum’s mouth twitched in what might have almost been a smile.

Ash shrugged. “What’s done is done. All that matters now is what they choose.”

“Well, they’re ready for you, so you won’t have to wait long.”

Ash glanced at Tenryu—communicating a thought, most likely—before striding across the ledge into the shadowy crevice. The guards jumped to follow him. Piper took a couple steps, then realized Lyre, Seiya, and Raum weren’t following. Before she could ask why they were just standing there, Tenryu rumbled, rustling his wings. The sudden movement made the other three jolt away from him.

You are in the way.

She blinked at Tenryu and realized he wanted to lie down and rest on the rocky ledge.

“Come on,” she said to the trio. “Tenryu wants to stretch out and take a break.”

Seiya gave her a strange look and led the way into the narrow, natural-looking crevice in the rock. On the other side, a smooth-sided corridor stretched into the solid mountain. Tiny lights that scarcely interrupted the darkness dotted the walls, but it was enough to see by so she extinguished her light spell.

Once they were inside, Seiya stopped again. “How do you know what the dragon is saying?”

“You can’t hear anything?” When they all shook their heads, Piper shrugged. “Sometimes he speaks to me, but I don’t know why I can hear him.”

Seiya and Raum exchanged a look.

“Before we catch up to Ash,” Seiya said, “we want to know … how is he?”

“How is … Ash?” Piper echoed. “He’s fine.”

They traded another look.

“He seems like himself?” Lyre asked.

She frowned. “Well, the experience with Tenryu has changed him a bit, but … what are you getting at?”

“He wants to attack Asphodel,” Raum said. “We weren’t sure how much of that is his idea and how much is the dragon’s.”

“Oh.” She tried not to get offended on Ash’s behalf; the others didn’t know everything she did. They hadn’t had a chance to talk to Ash yet. “Tenryu has his own reasons, but this is Ash’s plan—and he’s right: this is our only chance to bring down Asphodel.”

Lyre nodded and the stiff tension in Seiya’s shoulders lessened. Raum gave Piper a long, searching look—not entirely convinced?—then stepped away, leading them down the hall. With a final glance at the other two, she followed. The stone corridors twisted and turned in an endless maze, interrupted by doorways filled with curtains or sliding wooden doors. She could discern no rhyme or reason in the layout of the halls. How did anyone find their way?

“It’s a deliberate maze,” Seiya said, noticing her growing disorientation. “To confuse and slow down invaders.”

“Oh.” She glanced around again. “The ancient city Ash and I visited wasn’t like this. You could see the balconies all over the mountains and there were no mazes.”

Seiya shrugged. “This city is on the border of what was once Taroth territory, so it was built to be highly defensible. Maybe they didn’t think the other one needed to be secure in the same way.”

If they hadn’t, it had been a shortsighted decision, seeing as how the draconians who’d lived there had been slaughtered by an invading Hades army. She was surprised that draconians tolerated living this deep in the mountain; they didn’t like enclosed spaces all that much. Good thing the halls and rooms she’d glimpsed were spacious.

Raum rounded yet another indistinguishable corner—how did he know his way around so well already?—and walked into a large, open room. It had the distinct geometric carvings decorating the walls and pillars as the other draconian city, but the table and chairs in the center were simple, unpolished wood. Ash stood in front of the table already, Zwi perched on his shoulder. A dozen older draconians stood around the other side, the low-backed chairs ignored.

Eliada stood at the forefront of the group, watching Ash with her cutting teal-blue eyes.

Ash stood unflinching under all their scrutiny, one hand hooked on the hilt of a sword at his hip. As Piper approached with the others, her eyes swept over him and her heart gave a little leap of desire. He was magnificent, mysterious, terrifying. Standing before the draconian elders, even though they were supposed to be the leaders of the draconians, his aura of confidence and command was unmistakable. Somehow his gray irises, threaded with azure light, demanded that any who fell under his gaze acknowledge his authority. A feeling whispered in the air, a weight pressing down—power settling over them, sizzling in the air like a storm about to be unleashed.

Her steps faltered. She had felt the whisper of that same kind of power under the gaze of a different daemon. Compared to Samael’s, Ash’s aura of command was mild, but there was no denying what it was: The power of a warlord. His birthright. Whether the elders realized it or not, Ash
would
become their ruler.

Eliada placed her hands on the tabletop, her eyes locked on Ash. “We have discussed your proposal in depth. Our decision is thus: we will not go to war on Asphodel.”

Piper’s stomach plunged but she wasn’t sure what emotion she felt most strongly.

“Launching an attack in the heart of Hades, against their well-defended capital and military barracks, is too great of a risk, even with the great dragon’s power. Our numbers are too small and our warriors are too valuable. Even if we win—which we don’t believe is possible—we would likely lose so many warriors that we would be defenseless against a counterattack.

“Furthermore, Hades’ vendetta against us would be more fierce and vicious than we’ve ever experienced. They would destroy us utterly. If we retreat now, we have a chance to survive. If we attack Asphodel, we will surely perish.”

When Eliada fell silent, Ash simply stared at her. Analyzing. Judging. The elders were practically squirming where they stood when he finally spoke.

“You’re right.” His voice, though quiet, filled the room. “The risk is high. The odds are against us. The enemy is powerful.

“But you’re wrong that if you retreat, you’ll have a chance to survive. You won’t. Retreating now will complete the death of our caste that began with Nyrtaroth’s demise. Our strength fades even faster than our numbers. You’ve lost the will to fight. You’ve lost the essence of who, and what, we are.”

The hint of blue in his irises grew more pronounced. “You are afraid to fight to save us, but your warriors aren’t. They saw victory in that valley. They saw power and strength. They saw a glimpse of who we were and what we can be. You can choose to hide and fade to nothing—if Hades doesn’t hunt you down first—but I will not. And when Tenryu and I call your warriors to follow us to war, they will.”

Eliada’s face went white.

“They will choose to fight,” Ash said. “They will win their freedom from Hades or die fighting for it.”

“Our warriors would not abandon their families to follow you to their deaths,” Eliada said hoarsely. “They won’t follow you.”

“When Tenryu and I go to Asphodel,” he said, “they
will
choose to fight alongside me—to fight for their families instead of another futile attempt to hide. You can lead your warriors, prepared and organized, into this battle with me, or you can stand aside. It’s your choice.”

The silence that fell over the room was thick enough to suffocate. After exchanging terse looks with the other elders, Eliada let out a shaky breath.

“Then you leave us no choice, Ashtaroth.” Another harsh exhale. “We will go to war.”

Piper hung back with Lyre and Seiya, watching as the elders took seats at the table and Ash and Raum sat across from them. They discussed preparations and Ash shared the information he’d gathered in Asphodel.

As her eyes moved from the elders to Ash, a tightness spread through her chest—a strange mixture of dread and sorrow. What she’d barely begun to realize when he’d told her about wanting to help the draconians was becoming painfully clear. She could see it now:

His path diverging from hers.

What had begun with Tenryu’s first attack was coming full circle as he fully shed the skin of a former Hades slave. He wanted to help the draconians, but he would do far more than that. He was rising to take his place as a leader, to claim his birthright. And together with Tenryu, he was starting down a road that would take him places she couldn’t even imagine.

And it was a road where she couldn’t follow him.

She pressed her hands together in front of her, hoping no one would notice the tremble of her limbs. She was losing him. It had already begun. In a way, Tenryu was responsible, but only as the catalyst. She was certain that Ash’s instincts and honor would have eventually led him to this place, to this road, but maybe not quite so soon. Maybe they would have had more time together before their paths diverged.

But their paths
would
diverge. What place could she, an Overworld haemon, have here? Would she follow Ash as nothing but an unneeded tagalong? Trailing after him while he walked the roads to greatness? She was sure he would. Assuming any of them survived the coming war on Hades, Ash was destined for greatness. She wasn’t.

She bit hard on her lower lip, reining in her emotions before they ran out of control. One day at a time. That’s what she’d promised herself. Their last day wasn’t here yet.

Ash pushed his chair back, breaking into her emotional battle with herself. His gaze paused on her, a frown flickering across his face as he caught a hint of her upset, but his attention focused on Lyre. He tilted his head in an invitation for the incubus to follow him.

Resignation sagged Lyre’s shoulders. He sighed, giving a brief nod.

Piper looked sharply between them, shoving her pain aside as confusion replaced it. What unspoken communication had just passed between them? Why did Ash want to talk to Lyre before his meeting was over? And how did Lyre know what their conversation would be about—and why was he so unhappy about it?

Ash glanced at the elders. “Is there a private room nearby?”

Eliada offered quick directions to a room just down the hall. As they left, with Lyre dragging his feet like a child about to be punished, Ash flicked a glance toward her. She stiffened, her eyes narrowing. What had that look meant? She glanced at the table, where Raum and the elders had resumed a discussion of Asphodel’s defenses. She took a step toward the door.

“Piper.” Seiya’s blue eyes cut through her. “If you go, you may not be forgiven.”

Piper winced, doubt stabbing her. Was she misinterpreting Ash’s glance? He
had
specifically asked for a private room, and Seiya’s warning was clear. If Piper overheard something she shouldn’t, either Ash or Lyre—or both—might not forgive her for betraying their trust.

Rubbing her damp palms on her pants, she walked quickly out of the room, battling with her conscience with each step. She should mind her own business, but at the same time she was pretty sure Ash wanted her to follow—secretly. Otherwise, he would have just told her to come with him. She suspected Ash wanting to talk to Lyre had more to do with his uncanny knowledge of Hades spells than his inexplicable weaving abilities—both topics Lyre had flat-out refused to discuss with her.

At the end of the stone hallway, the faint murmur of male voices beckoned her.

Burying her doubts, she crept down the hall until she was standing on the other side of the sliding door. The wood was thin, muffling but not disguising their words.

“ … magical disturbance that Tenryu senses has been going on for almost a thousand years now,” Ash was saying. “I know that predates Chrysalis by centuries, but if Hades has some sort of experimentation going on that can interfere with ley line magic, I have to assume Chrysalis would be in on it.”

When Lyre answered, his voice was cold and hard—a tone she’d only heard from the normally easygoing incubus a handful of times. “A safe assumption.”

A quiet pause before Ash responded. “I’m sorry, Lyre. I wouldn’t ask you if I had any other option.”

Lyre grunted. “I’m not surprised Tenryu can sense that something’s wrong in Asphodel. Hades has always wanted power, the more unlimited the better. And what power is more unlimited than the ley lines? They’ve been searching for a way to harness ley line magic for centuries, and it’s more likely than not that they’re messing with the Underworld’s magic in the process.”