I couldn’t even scream in agony, it was that intense and sudden, ripping the breath from my lungs.
“Your totem has three uses,” Kali said when she removed her hand a few agonizing seconds later. “Only three.”
“Why only three?” I managed between gasps. “How do I even use them?”
“Three, because four would have meant collecting your remains,” she said. “Even immortals have limits. How did you open the box containing the ring?”
“With…with difficulty.”
“I would imagine it required viewing energy differently?”
“I don’t know how to do that regularly,” I said. “I had help.”
“Then practice,” she said. “Utilize the ring wisely. The power of this pendant”—she placed a hand on my chest—“is now yours to master and refine. You will no longer need this.”
She touched my mala bracelet, and it became dust.
“I kind of needed that,” I said, feeling surprisingly naked without my shield. “It was an effective defense.”
“A shield does not require a shield,” she answered. “You are not a mage and never will be, my Cursed, but you will bear my mark and be feared.”
“I thought I already bore your mark? Endless knot on my hand?”
“That is the mark of your curse, not my mark. My mark is all encompassing and will be visible to those who can see.”
“Another one of those hidden in plain sight things, I’m guessing?”
“You’re learning,” she said with a nod. “The power you possess will rival that of any mage, once you understand how to use it.”
“That sounds like more pain.”
“There are some who would see magic and its use removed from this plane.”
“Evers and Talin,” I managed. “They want to erase magic. Is that even possible?”
“Do you want to find out?”
“No.”
“You will become the shieldbearer against those who would try to transform and twist this energy,” she said. “You will be the one in the gap, no longer a shieldbearer. You will be my aspis—a shield-warrior.
She placed a finger on each of my eyes—her index and ring finger—and a third, her middle finger, on my forehead in some strange variation of a Vulcan mind-meld. The icepick that was burrowing into my head earlier decided now was a good time to explode.
Violet and gold light blinded me, robbing me of my sight again, as the straps holding me in place melted away. I fell to the ground in a heap of mangled pain and agony.
The sobs came then, uncontrolled and unrestrained.
“Just…just kill me,” I said in-between wracking sobs. “I can’t…I can’t do this.”
“That day will come,” Kali said gently. “But it is not today. You will have to endure a little longer. It is not only Tristan that depends on you now.”
Another wave of pain crested and crashed into me as I spasmed on the floor, blinded by power and pain.
I was alone again.
TWENTY-ONE
The first thing I felt and heard was Peaches’ wet muzzle push my face with a worried whine. Then he growled. I felt the tremor race across the floor, originating in his chest, and radiating outward from him in sonic ripples. He spread his forelegs and blocked my view.
“Strong,” Erik said slowly. “Inform your hellhound we’re trying to help you.”
“It’s okay, boy,” I said, patting my hellhound’s flanks weakly. “Let them pass.”
<He hurt you. Can I bite him now?>
“Later,” I said softly. “Not now.”
“Strong, we can’t do this later,” Erik said. “You need attention now.”
“Sorry, not you,” I said weakly. “Was talking to my hellhound.”
I didn’t chance communicating with Peaches in our normal way…my brain still felt tender, and I ached all over.
<You’re hurt. I will lick you and that will help.>
I winced as his voice slammed into my head.
<Let’s talk later, boy. My everything hurts right now, especially my head.>
<If I lick you, you will get better.>
<Not so loud. Save the licking for later. I’ll get better, I just need time.>
<You don’t smell bad anymore. You smell like you.>
<Thanks, I think. Let Erik pass. He wants to help me.>
Peaches moved over to the side with a low rumble, allowing Erik and several of the Harlequin access to my mangled body. They gently scooped me up from the floor and suspended me in mid-air, before placing me on the table. I hadn’t realized how strong the Harlequin were, but it made sense. They weren’t window dressing; they were the security for the Hellfire Club.
Erik wouldn’t pick a group of weak women to protect his mage club—he’d get the best, which also meant the strongest. I was pretty certain they were all like Master Yat, wielding their tonfa the way he wielded his staff, skillfully and painfully when the situation required it.
“Secure him,” Erik said, his voice distant. “Make sure the table is horizontal. I don’t want him falling off. How did you break free?”
“I didn’t,” I said, looking at the ruined straps. “They just fell apart. Maybe get better quality next time?”
“Strong, that was the highest quality leather,” Erik answered. “I runed and reinforced those straps myself. There was no way you should have been able to destroy them.”
“Probably wasn’t me then,” I said, my voice raspy. “Could they have just been worn out from too much use?”
“What happened to him?” Jessikah asked. “He looks awful, like he’s been beaten…severely and repeatedly.”
“Thanks,” I said, barely able to form the word. “I feel that way, too. Some water would be good.”
Erik glanced at one of the Harlequin, and motioned with a hand. She left the room only to return a few seconds later, with a silver pitcher and a large glass, setting it to one side.
“What happened, Strong?” Erik asked as he poured me half a glass of water, holding it out to me. “Here, drink this, slowly. Do not guzzle it.”
“I don’t think you’d believe me if I told you,” I said, after taking a few sips of the water. It was delicious. “What is this?” I held up the glass. “This isn’t water.”
“It’s Rejuven,” Erik said. “Looks
