seemed bloated enough, Neferet spoke softly, lovingly to them. “You’ve taken your payment. Now you must do my bidding.” She looked from the throbbing strands of Darkness to her immortal lover. “Lash him deeply. One hundred times.” Neferet hurled Darkness at Kalona.
The weakened immortal only had time to unfurl his wings and begin to vault for the edge of the castle’s roof. The razor threads caught him midstride. They wrapped around his wings at the sensitive base where they met his spine. Instead of leaping from the rooftop he was trapped, pinned against the ancient stone of the balustrade while Darkness began to slowly, methodically, slice furrows into his naked back.
Neferet watched only until his proud, handsome head sagged in defeat and his body jerked convulsively with every cutting stroke.
“Do not mar him permanently. I plan to enjoy the beauty of his skin again,” she said before turning her back on Kalona and walking purposefully from the blood-soaked rooftop.
“It seems I must do everything myself, and there is so much to do … so much to do…,” she whispered to the Darkness that flitted about her ankles.
From the shadows within shadows Neferet thought she caught the outline of a massive bull watching her with approval and pleasure.
Neferet smiled.
CHAPTER THREE
For the zillionth time I thought about what an amazing place Sgiach’s throne room was. She was an ancient vampyre queen, the Great Taker of Heads, uber-powerful and surrounded by her own personal Warriors known as Guardians. Hell, way back in the day she’d even taken on the Vampyre High Council and won, but her castle wasn’t a nasty-outdoor-plumbing-medieval-version-of-camping (gross). Sgiach’s castle was a fortress, but it was—as they say over here in Scotland—a posh castle. I swear the view from any of the sea-facing windows, but especially her throne room, is so incredible that it looks like it should be on HD TV and not in front of me, in real life.
“It’s beautiful here.” Okay, talking to myself—especially so soon after being, well, kinda sorta
“I was simply checking my email—nothing magickal or ass-kicking about that.”
I suppose she should have made me jump. I mean, the queen seemed to materialize from the air beside me, but I guess being all shattered and crazy in the Otherworld had given me a pretty high spookiness tolerance. Plus, I felt a weird bond with this vampyre queen. Yeah, she was awe-inspiring and had mad powers and all, but in the weeks since Stark and I had come back, she had been a fixture by my side. While Aphrodite and Darius played gross kissy-face and walked hand in hand on the beach, and while Stark slept and slept and slept, Sgiach and I had spent time together. Sometimes talking—sometimes not. She was, I’d decided days ago, the coolest woman, vamp or not, I’d ever met.
“You’re kidding, right? You’re an ancient warrior queen who lives in a castle on an island no one can get to without you letting them,
Sgiach laughed. “Science often feels more mysterious than magick, or at least I have always thought so. Which reminds me—I have been considering how odd it is that daylight affects your Guardian with such debilitating severity.”
“It’s not just Stark. I mean, it’s been worse with him recently ’cause, well, ’cause he’s hurt.” I paused, tripping over the words and not wanting to admit how hard it was to see my Warrior and Guardian so obviously messed up. “This really isn’t normal for him. He can usually stay conscious during the day, even if he can’t stand direct sunlight. All the red vampyres and fledglings are the same about it. Sun does them in.”
“Well, young queen, it could be a distinct disadvantage that your Guardian is unable to protect you during the daylight hours.”
I gave a shoulder shrug, even though her words sent a shiver of what might be premonition down my spine. “Yeah, well, recently I’ve learned to take care of myself. I think I can handle a few hours a day on my own,” I said with a sharpness that surprised even me.
Sgiach’s green-amber gaze caught me. “Do not allow it to make you hard.”
“It?”
“Darkness and the struggle against it.”
“Don’t I have to be hard to fight?” I remembered skewering Kalona to the wall of an Otherworld arena with his own spear, and my stomach clenched.
She shook her head and the fading daylight caught the streak in her silver hair, making it glisten like cinnamon and gold mixed together. “No, you must be strong. You must be wise. You must know yourself and trust only those who are worthy. If you allow the battle against Darkness to harden you, you will lose perspective.”
I looked away, staring out at the gray-blue waters that surrounded the Isle of Skye. The sun was setting into the ocean, reflecting delicate pink and coral colors across the darkening sky. It was beautiful and peaceful and looked utterly normal. Standing here it was hard to imagine that hanging around in the world out there was evil and Darkness and death.
But Darkness was out there, probably multiplied times a gazillion. Kalona hadn’t killed me, and that was really, really gonna piss off Neferet.
Just the thought of what that meant, that I was going to have to deal with her and Kalona and all the horrible bullpoopie that went along with them again made me feel incredibly tired.
I turned away from the window, squared my shoulders, and faced Sgiach. “What if I don’t want to fight anymore? What if I want to stay here, at least for a while? Stark’s not himself. He needs to rest and get better. I’ve already sent that message to the High Council about Kalona. They know he murdered Heath and then came after me, and that Neferet was all involved in it and has allied herself with Darkness. The High Council can handle Neferet. Hell,
Sgiach didn’t say anything, so I took a breath and kept on babbling. “I’m a kid. Seventeen. Barely. I’m crappy at geometry. My Spanish sucks. I can’t even vote yet. Fighting evil isn’t my responsibility—graduating from high school and, hopefully, making the Change is. My soul’s been shattered and my boyfriend’s been killed. Don’t I deserve a break? Just a little one?”
Utterly surprising me, Sgiach smiled and said, “Yes, Zoey, I believe you do.”
“You mean I can stay here?”
“For as long as you wish. I know what it is to feel the world press too tightly around. Here, as you said, the world is only allowed to enter at my command—and mostly I command it to stay away.”
“What about the fight against Darkness and evil and whatnot?”
“It will be there when you return.”
“Wow. Seriously?”
“Seriously. Stay here on my isle until your soul is truly rested and restored, and your conscience tells you to return to your world and your life there.”
I ignored the little pang I felt at the word
“Of course. A queen must always have her Guardian by her side.”
“Speaking of,” I said quickly, glad to steer the subject away from questions of conscience and battling evil, “how long has Seoras been your Guardian?”
The queen’s eyes softened and her smile became sweeter, warmer, and even more beautiful. “Seoras became my Oath Bond Guardian more than five hundred years ago.”
“Holy crap! Five hundred years? How old are you?”
