Chapter Eleven
Gratefully accepting cash from her customer, Wynter waited until he’d left before stuffing the bills in the locked box she kept out of sight. She doubted anybody would get the stupid idea to swipe some of her earnings, but it was better to be on the safe side. After all, many of the people here were criminals. Including her coven members, as it happened.
Taking the small empty potion bottle, she plopped it into the basket of other empties to be washed. Whenever she embedded runes into weapons, she demonstrated on her customer just what sort of enchantment she’d chosen for them—there was no other way for them to “know”
its effects. Hence the need for the many reversal potions lined up on the shelf.
Said shelf also included healing potions, since demonstrating enchantments involved cutting flesh. But some preternatural beings, including those who were immortal like herself, didn’t need such brews—any superficial wounds healed swiftly enough to not require any magickal interference.
Needing to ready the shed for whatever customer might come next, she reached for the cloth so she could wipe down the wooden bench. Her fingertips barely scraped it when a breeze slammed into her face vibrating with a warning, but it was too late—a hand clutched Wynter’s hip from behind before she could even consider reacting. The world around her flashed white, and then suddenly she was standing in what appeared to be the middle of goddamn nowhere facing four familiar male vampires.
What in the fuck?
It all happened so goddamn fast it was almost dizzying. She snapped out of her shock quickly, but she didn’t attack—not the people in front of her, and not the person behind her. In fact, Wynter didn’t move at all. Because one of the vamps before her, Claud, was pointing a freaking gun at her. He happened to be one of her best customers. Traitorous bastard.
“Don’t move,”
barked Claud. “This is loaded with iron bullets.”
Huh. Special.
Revenants were susceptible to iron. Although the bullets wouldn’t kill her unless the shot was fatal, they’d weaken her for sure. Possibly even weaken her enough to prevent her currently furious monster from surfacing. It wanted to eat these bastards alive, along with the person who’d teleported her here. Said person released her hip quickly and stepped away.
“I’d shoot her in the leg or something, if I were you,”
said her kidnapper. Shelia. “It’ll be best for you to keep her weak.”
Her blood boiling, Wynter looked over her shoulder and pinned the little bitch with a glacier cold glare. The otherworldly breeze brushing over Wynter’s skin buzzed with the same rage she harbored—still, the deity silently cautioned her inner monster not to rise yet.
Wynter felt her nostrils flare. “You’ll die for this.”
Shelia laughed. “How? No one will know I had anything to do with your disappearance.”
“But I will. And I’ll come for you.”
Shelia smirked. “Sure you will.”
She waggled her fingers in goodbye. “Do enjoy your time with Adam.”
In a blink, she was gone.
Oh ho, ho, ho, someone needed to cut that bitch up.
Drawing in a calming breath through her nose, Wynter let her gaze flit around as she slowly turned her head to face the front. All she could see for miles was prairie land. There were no distant noises to indicate that there were other people anywhere close.
Refocusing on the vampires, she flexed her fingers. “This was seriously ill advised. I really can’t stress that enough.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,”
said Claud, his grip steady on the gun still aimed at her.
Oh, he had “stupid” covered.
“We’d rather not hurt you, but we can,”
he added. “We’re not without gifts.”
That was true. If she recalled correctly, two of the vampires were telekinetic, one could cause people to hallucinate, and Claud could drug a person with a single but very fatal touch.
Her monster rumbled a growl, eager to take the wheel. Wynter was hesitant to oblige it. She didn’t know how badly the bullets would affect the monster and she didn’t care to find out. So, needing it to wait, she sent it telepathic images, letting it know that she wanted to disarm the vampire first. It made a petulant grunt of complaint but didn’t push.
Another vamp, Enzo, pushed a button on his key fob. The SUV’s trunk softly whirred as it opened. “Get in.”
Wynter snorted. If they were expecting her to cooperate, they were out of their minds. “No.”
The corners of Claud’s eyes tightened. “Don’t make me shoot you.”
“I’m not making you do anything,”
she said. “You’re choosing the path of suicide. That’s on you.”
A muscle in Enzo’s cheek flexed. “Get in the fucking trunk.”
She flicked up a brow. “Would you?”
“If I didn’t want to get pumped with bullets, yeah,”
said Enzo.
“Low pain tolerance threshold, huh?”
Her monster filed that little nugget away. “Sucks for you.”
“Don’t think dragging this out will give your coven or the Ancients a chance to get to you. You’re a long way from home.”
“That so?”
Well, that was unfortunate. “Then here’s a question. Why didn’t you ask Shelia to teleport you all the way to the boundaries of Aeon?”
“We did. She doesn’t trust that the keepers won’t kill us on sight and just take you. And since she doesn’t know how far past the perimeter they patrol, this is as far as she’s willing to go. We’re an hour’s drive from the boundaries of Aeon.”
Considering the distance between Devil’s Cradle and Aeon would take at least two days of driving to cover, these dudes had been on the road for a while. “You really should heed Shelia’s concerns. I once lived at Aeon, so I can tell you two things—one, they patrol far and wide. Two, they’re not very friendly toward trespassers.”
“But they are expecting someone to turn up with either you, Cain, or both of you,”
Enzo cockily pointed out. “That’ll make them a lot less hostile toward anyone who heads their way.”
“Only for as long as it takes to confirm that you brought them what they want. After that, you’ll be executed.”
“We’re done chatting,”
Claud cut in. “Now get in the fucking trunk.”
“All right, fine.”
She raised her hands in a gesture of peace. And then she let out a blast of toxic magick from each palm. The dark, ultraviolet-tinted force shimmered through the air like heatwaves as it rushed at the vampires.
They tried evading the blasts but didn’t move fast enough. The magick crashed into them like a wall. They hit the ground hard, sizzling deep welts appearing on their bare skin. Welts that swiftly began to heal. Fucking vampires.
She’d called to her sword just as Claud fired the gun. She angled her black glass blade, deflecting the bullet. And another bullet. And another.
A heavy surge of telekinetic energy slammed into her chest and knocked the breath right out of her. She skidded backwards several feet but remained standing, sending whips of crackling magick bouncing along the ground toward the vamps. They swore and yelped as the scorching hot power lashed at their bodies yet again.
Enzo blurred to her side and tried snatching the blade as he reached for her. He might well have dealt her a nightmarish hallucination before she had the chance to fight him . . . if the razor-sharp sword hadn’t sliced into his skin. Her enchantment went to work on him, making him jerk backwards as he was overcome with the sensation of beetles scuttling over his flesh.
Taking advantage of his distraction, she thrust her blade through his heart. Vampires could heal from a lot, but not that. His eyes went wide, a croaky breath crawled out of his throat, and then he burst into ashes.
More telekinetic energy rippled through the air toward her. She jerked aside unnaturally fast, dodging it cleanly. Thank you, immortality.
Yet another blast came toward her. She ducked—
An impact slammed into her head as blinding pain burst through her skull. She staggered backwards, blinking hard. The agony snatched the strength from her body, and her sword slipped from her limp hand. She dropped to her knees, feeling like she was fading.
Claud gaped at her, his eyes wide in horror. “Oh, shit.”
She slumped forward as the life left her body.
*
Cain looked up from the book in front of him as Maxim showed Seth into the ledger room. The aide left with a respectful nod toward Cain.
Seth strolled toward the desk, eyeing the many thick, heavy—and in many cases also dusty—books with curiosity. “Doing some light reading, are we?”
he quipped.
“I’m trying to find specific information on the tying of life-forces.”
Cain had spent days scouring ancients texts. He hadn’t found anything that really answered Wynter’s questions or properly addressed her concerns.
Seth’s brows flew up. “Your creature wants to bind itself to Wynter, I take it?”
“Yes.”
It had settled slightly now that it knew she wouldn’t fight the binding, although it wasn’t at all happy at being made to wait.
Letting out a low whistle, Seth took the seat opposite him, loosely clasping the armrests. “That’s pretty huge.”
It was, though Wynter didn’t quite realize that. Leviathans rarely formed such bonds with others. As he’d told her before, the monsters they carried weren’t built to love. “My monster is determined to own her, and it won’t cease pushing until it gets its way.”
“Have you told her?”
“Yes. She’s willing. But she’s also reluctant to go through with it any time soon.”
“You can’t exactly blame her for requesting a little time to get used to the idea and settle more firmly into your relationship. Anyone would find it unnerving to tie their life-force to that of another, let alone to a monster like yours—no offense.”
Oh, there was none taken. Cain was under no illusions about the creature; he knew it was a living nightmare. “That’s not why she hesitates. Her issue is two-fold. One, she knows that if she was to permanently die while she and my creature were bound, her death would profoundly affect both me and my monster—she doesn’t want to ever be a weakness for me.”
It warmed him even as it exasperated him, because she could never be anything but his greatest strength.
“I can understand that,”
said Seth. “But she’s far from easy to kill, which makes it less risky. And she’s returned from the afterlife God knows how many times. Why would that one day stop?”
“It might not, but she can’t be as certain of that as she wishes to be.”
Seth pursed his lips, nodding in understanding. “Then I see why she’s concerned.”
So did Cain, though he’d probably never say as much to her. He didn’t want to encourage her to think that way, he wanted her to give into him. “She would prefer to wait until the danger with the Aeons has passed, but she will only go through with the binding if I can ease another deep concern she has. Wynter worries that, given her life-force is that of an undead soul, being bound to her could be harmful for my creature and me.”
“Ah, I hadn’t thought of that.”
Seth rubbed at his jaw. “Do you believe it would be?”
“No. But that’s not enough for her. Because she’s fully aware that I’m not certain of it. Hence why I’m flicking through ancient texts in search of answers.”
Puffing out a breath, Seth lowered his hand. “I can see that you’d prefer she ignore her concerns. But she isn’t merely being difficult here, Cain. She hesitates because she cares for you. She’d never forgive herself if she later discovered that her life-force was negatively affecting you.”
Cain let out a deep sigh. “I know. I simply feel that her worries are senseless. And I intend to prove it.”
“I’m sure you will.”
Seth paused. “But if you do, I think it would be best for you both to still wait until after the upcoming battle is over before performing the binding. Yes, I can see that you are not fond of that idea. But think of her, Cain. It’s easy for you to overlook, since you’re incredibly difficult to kill, that you have your own vulnerabilities.
“As much as we might wish differently, you’re not indestructible. More notably, you’ll soon be knee-deep in a war with beings whose power is almost as great as yours. You need to know what your death would do to her before you take the step you want to take.”
Cain rubbed his nape, pensive. He truly hadn’t looked at the situation from that angle. Purely because, as Seth pointed out, it was easy for Cain to overlook his own weaknesses due to there being very few people who could take him on and live to tell the tale.
“It stands to reason that if I died while she and my creature were bound she’d come back just like she always does. The breaking of the bond wouldn’t affect her monster—it would have no tie to me or my creature.”
Cain would like to have its acceptance and approval since, in a roundabout way, it was part of Wynter. But she’d made it clear that the bestial entity wanted only to kill, not to find a mate.
“Maybe she wouldn’t come back, though,”
said Seth. “Think about it. If the snapping of the bond is something that will drain her, it might do so to the point where she’s too weak to come back.”
Fuck, Cain hadn’t thought of that. His stomach rolled at the mere idea of it. His witch had to live. There was no other acceptable option.
“You could try asking Lilith. Her creature bound itself to her consort. Maybe she’ll know more.”
Seth’s brows dipped as he added, “Though I doubt it. He wasn’t a revenant, and your concerns center around the fact that Wynter is one.”
Sighing, Cain sat back in his chair. “I thought about consulting Eve. She’s a far older being than any of us. Far older than even the texts in front of me. There’s a chance she’ll be able to answer my questions.”
“I’m sensing a ‘but’.”
“But . . . I don’t feel that I know her well enough to entrust her with any information that concerns Wynter or my relationship with her.”
Seth’s mouth quirked. “I’d do the brotherly thing and tease you for being so paranoid and distrustful, but I know that in this instance it mostly stems from how protective you are of Wynter. I like that she’s so important to you. I like that you’re equally important to her. She wouldn’t otherwise ask you to hold off on the binding until the danger had passed if she didn’t feel—”
A frantic knock was quickly followed by the reappearance of Maxim.
“I’m sorry to barge in, Sire,”
began the aide, breathing hard, “but a lycan rushed here with word from Wynter’s coven—she’s missing.”
*
Fuck, it was cold. And dark. The glacial mist dampened and chilled Wynter’s skin, surrounding her like a thick cloud. She shivered, righting her tee.
A spinetingling scream split the air, raising the little hairs on her body. A roar came next, deep and feral. She swallowed, a breath stuttering out of her. The sounds seemed to come from the far distance, but she couldn’t be sure. And since she couldn’t see a damn thing, she also couldn’t be certain if any other souls were close by.
Vibes of misery and pain throbbed in the air. Fear had a smell here. Clinical and metallic and sickly.
And where was here?
The netherworld.
She wasn’t a stranger to this place. Or to the haunting, bloodcurdling sounds. Or to the bitterly cold mist that went on and on and on. Or to the many entities that loved to circle, chase, and taunt the souls.
Wynter figured that the reason humans had mistaken the netherworld for hell was that, essentially, it put you through hell. Not to punish, but as part of the purification process. It used agony and terror to break you down so your soul could be cleansed and then rebuilt, free of sin and ready to be reborn.
The rustle of fabric.
Wynter spun, clenching her fists. The mist stirred and danced as a figure walked through it, small, slender snakes twined around Her arms. Long, flowing obsidian hair tumbled around Her like a soft curtain. Only a beige bralette-type top and a short skirt covered smooth dark skin. Deep brown eyes that, regardless of Her mood, always held a red glint of absolute rage were laser focused on Wynter.
Kali. Goddess of vengeance. Creator of revenants. Wrath personified.
She was sometimes present when Wynter’s soul again found its way to the netherworld, but not always. And they rarely spoke to each other. The deity always seemed to have more interest in immediately returning Wynter’s soul back from where it came.
Not this time, apparently. Because Wynter was still there. Not a good sign.
Kali stood before her, studying her closely, a faint smile touching Her lips.
Wynter swallowed. “So I’m dead for real now?”
Her chest seized, and her gut sharply twisted. The thought of never seeing Cain again made her feel ill.
Kali scoffed. “It takes more than an iron bullet to the brain to permanently put down a revenant,”
She said, Her voice thick and deep with so much power that Wynter felt the vibration of it in her teeth and bones. “Any book on mythology will tell you that in order to ensure revenants do not rise from the dead, someone must behead them, incinerate every part of their body, and then scatter their ashes into the sea. Mythology does get some things correct. But there are so many errors that people tend to dismiss all the tales.”
Wynter frowned as the implication of that sank in. “So, wait, all those times I came back to life, it wasn’t that you were sending me back?”
“I did not need to. Though I would have if necessary.”
Kali turned a brief smile on the snake that flicked its tongue at Her cheek. “As I have told you before, you have a purpose, Wynter. That purpose is what ties your soul to that realm.”
Since the deity seemed to be in the mood to answer questions—an extreme rarity—Wynter asked the one that had pricked at her for years. “And if I fulfill that purpose, will I then die?”
Kali’s eyes slid back to hers. “No. Because now you have an extra tie to that realm.”
“Cain.”
Kali gave a slow, graceful nod. “Yes.”
“He was right,”
Wynter realized. “You shaped me into a weapon so that I could do something for you.”
Kali’s smile became slightly more pronounced. “You have exceeded my expectations at every turn.”
No I’m sorry I pulled you into my personal shit. But then, Wynter was a mere Earth-bound creature while Kali, on the other hand, was a goddamn deity—of course She wasn’t sorry. They weren’t anything close to equals, in the deity’s opinion.
Knowing there was no sense in complaining when said objections would be dismissed as unimportant, Wynter instead asked, “What’s this purpose you have for me?”
Kali’s eyes sharpened with approval. She took an elegant step forward. “Let me tell you a story.”