43. Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter 43
“L ittle hybrid.”
Emotions flooded through Rieka. Rage. Anger. They threatened to tear her apart as she almost stumbled against the onslaught. The room slowly stopped spinning as she focused on the newcomer. She had never believed so much malevolence could exist in a person, human or Atlantean, but she had been wrong.
Dressed entirely in black, Idris appeared as emotionless as a statue despite what lay beneath the surface. Dried blood tinged his fingertips.
“Where is Dante?”
“He is otherwise occupied.” Idris smiled, the light not quite reaching his eyes. This time, there was no hint of warmth. Instead, only a cold, dead gaze that bore into her. Soulless, if one believed in such things. It was like she was the ant under the magnifying glass, ready to be annihilated.
Dante must be alive. Idris would not have hesitated to let her know of his demise. “How?”
“There are hundreds of tunnels that lead to the catacombs, but I could never gain entry until now. Not until you,” Idris said. A half-deprecating smile touched the edges of his lips. “Until a hybrid with no alliances to any of the Houses appeared. But then, descendants of Vandana are hard to find, but not impossible to kill.”
Rieka flinched. “What do you want?” She shifted closer to the statue. The damn blaster was too far away. She couldn’t believe she had been so stupid. The light weight of the knife on her hip was a slight blessing, but she would need to be a lot closer to use it.
“You.”
Rieka stopped. Idris was making zero sense. “I’m not available.”
“Do you know what the bracelet is?”
Rieka didn’t care, but if it kept Idris talking, it may give her enough time to come up with a distraction. Or a plan.
Her knees buckled. She stumbled backward, hitting the coffin with a thud and a crunch. But she barely noticed the impact. Since Idris had appeared, the sharp pulses from the bracelet had grown exponentially—the tempo increasing until it seemed they merged into one agonizingly long pulse. Her body was burning from the inside. The pendant was glowing, but Idris took no notice of it.
Idris tilted his head as he took a step closer to her. His bulky form overshadowed Vandana. “It links you to the O’hurani. As long as you wear it, you belong to him.”
Rieka blinked at him. Idris had clearly become disillusioned.
“The old matriarch did not inform you?” Idris sneered. “History has been rewritten because of the whore Vandana.”
It was just the in Rieka had been looking for. Keep Idris talking. Dante would come looking for her. “What history?”
“You bear the bloodline of the whore and the true gods. An abomination that should not exist,” Idris spat out. His eyes widened in delirium. “They gifted Vandana to the O’hurani as a tribute. A symbol of Atlantean loyalty to our gods. Instead, in her hubris, she waged a war she could not win, and the waves swallowed Atlantis.”
Rieka swallowed. The seconds were ticking by. Where was Dante? Had Idris gotten to him first? “What do you need me for? Vandana destroyed the Anki, and the wayfarers still sleep.”
Idris’s face contorted into a monstrous grin. “Vandana was too weak to kill the inner circle. The king did not die but rather still sleeps until he is ready to be awoken. You will help find him and wake him up.” Idris chuckled. “Dante will not come, Chaucer is with him.”
Rieka stilled, her heart racing as she tried to school her features.
Idris moved closer to her, almost boxing her in, his large body looming over her. No hint left of the Atlantean she had met. Idris chuckled again, the sound sending chills down her spine. “It looks as though my dear friend Dante has been keeping secrets from you. He knows exactly who you are. Do you think he would have wasted his time with a mere hybrid? Dante manipulated you and seduced you. He will do anything to find the tomb.”
“How do you know he succeeded?”
Idris smirked, his pale eyes luminous in the darkness. “Little hybrid, you wear your emotions for all the world to see and use against you. Did you forget in Dante’s world, emotions are a commodity to be utilized for as long as they are useful?”
Rieka wanted to curl into a small ball. The exact words Dante had used to describe their differences. He had told her outright, and she had ignored the warning.
Idris moved behind her a second before his breath tickled her neck, sending goose bumps all over her body.
She steeled her shoulders, refusing to back down.
“He will choose the tomb over you.”
That wasn’t true, she wanted to yell. But it was. Always second place. “No.”
“Your eyes give you away. Only a handful of Atlanteans knew Vandana’s eyes burned like flames. It was a secret passed down to the select few. Talal shared it with Dante. Dante will discard you once he finds what he is looking for.”
Your eyes are the only physical sign of your Atlantean heritage. Unusual, even by our standards.
The memory of their first meeting slammed into Rieka. She was finding it harder to breathe. Had everything been a lie?
No. Dante had promised nothing—had told her not to give him any human emotions or tendencies. But like a fool, she had ignored the warning, hoping she was different. Something in her shattered—something so small and fragile, she had not realized it had begun to grow until it had been broken into thousands of fragments, like shattered glass.
Her heart.
A slow numbness threatened to take over. When was she going to learn? She was always the second choice. First Lilian, and now Dante.
“You see the truth now. You are nothing but a tool to get what Dante wants. The tomb and all its treasure,” Idris whispered.
Each word was like a paper cut on her fragile soul.
“To be the Atlantean responsible for finding the lost monarchy. That is something even Dante can’t, and won’t, say no to.”
His voice made her skin crawl, but it was nothing compared to the rage that chased the numbness, the desire to burn everything in her path.
“Something to be used and thrown away. You only have one friend to mourn you, and then you will be forgotten. Barely a footnote in our history,” Idris finished. “But your lineage will live on. The O’hurani will rise again and remake this world.”
“And if I don’t want to help you?”
Idris moved suddenly. A hard grip around her throat as she was effortlessly lifted into the air. She kicked out, channeling all her rage and emotion into her survival, trying to dislodge Idris’s grip to make room for her to breathe. She would not die now.
Idris looked down at her arm. His eyes widened in recognition; a reverent look crossed his features.
Using all her strength, she slammed her elbow into Idris’s face. Bone smashing cartilage.
He didn’t move. Pure white-hot fire burned through her, setting every nerve alight as the world around her slowed down. Idris finally dropped her.
For a split second, she thought it was because of her. Then she saw it. Bright violet light danced around the statue, consuming it from the inside out.
The pendant she had left on Vandana appeared untouched as it pulsed in time with the bracelet.
The marble tear was now tinged red.
She fell next to the small coffin. Every part of her body screamed in protest at the contact with the hard ground. She scrambled to her knees. Faint engravings materialized on the side of the coffin. She almost stumbled as she recognized one of the images. A lily.
“Bloodline of the O’hurani. King of the Anki,” Idris whispered. “It is tainted, but it is viable and can be used for the resurrection. It appears you are still needed,” Idris said.
She wasn’t sure who he was talking to, but it wasn’t her. Idris had a faraway look in his eyes, as if he was lost to an old, painful memory.
Rieka was assaulted by the near-intoxicating scent of death and decay that instantaneously surrounded her. Sharp talons scratched at the marble behind her. Cautiously looking over her shoulder, she glared at gargantuan paw that was now eye level with her. Serpopard. She turned her attention back to Idris; it was too much to think she had hallucinated the monsters.
The cold marble dug into her back as she tried to stay as still as possible. The blaster was just out of her reach. Even if she went for it, she would be too slow compared to Idris and the oversized cat watching her.
Think, Sinha.
Realizing that she was always the second choice was heartbreaking, but it made her acknowledge that she didn’t need anyone to save her . She had been saving herself her entire life; she just hadn’t known it.
Idris needed her alive.
The bracelet continued to burrow within her. The metal arms dug into her, burying themselves within her flesh, twisting around veins and bone, becoming a part of her. The electrical jolts were coming harder and faster than before. Rieka grimaced as she cradled her arm.
Idris stood transfixed by the dancing flames that continued to engulf the statue.
Rieka gradually removed the blade from her boot. She was only going to have one chance. Delacroix had better not have lied about the dangers of the knives.
It was now or never.
Idris moved. His face was inches away from Rieka’s, a murderous snarl across his face.
Rieka brought the knife toward Idris and used all her strength to strike him. The knife slipped through his flesh, slicing through tendons as blood spurted everywhere.
“Bitch. Do you think a flesh wound will stop me?” Idris slurred, his words hard to understand. His pale eyes widened. Foam appeared around his mouth as he swayed.
“The knife belongs to an immortal.” Rieka pulled the blade out slowly before kicking Idris in the chest.
He crumbled under the impact. His body convulsed as it hit the ground.
Rieka didn’t move. “And you need me alive.”
The beast behind her purred like a giant cat. Rieka whipped her head to stare dumbfounded at the animal. For a moment, she had forgotten about the serpopards. But they hadn’t forgotten about her.
The heat within the room soared as Rieka pushed herself against the coffin. She tried her best to mold her body against the cool stone. The violet flame touched nothing but the disintegrating statue. Kicking at Idris, she turned over and pressed the lily.
Nothing happened. Agonizing pain shot through her as a fire burned through her arm. She tried to cover her ears as the voices continued to grow louder.
No. No. No.
“Dante didn’t share all his secrets.” Idris chuckled.
The sound sent chills down her spine as she struggled to stand. A hand reached out and tightly wrapped around her right ankle a second before she was dragged along the cool rocky floor towards Idris. And oblivion.