Between Light and Dark (6 page)

Laurell barely registered Axiom's words. The screams of
tormented souls still reverberated in her head. "I don't want
to see them again."

"Hopefully, you will not have to." Axiom sighed and
lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. For the first
time, she didn't shrink back. She hadn't the energy.

"Please know I regret having to show you in such a harsh
manner. I did not know how else to make you believe me."

Laurell shrugged out of his grip. She had to get control of
herself. "Fine. I get it. I have to help you save the world. Somehow, you and I will make a baby who will rescue the
planet." The words sounded hollow to her ears, but Laurell
knew in her gut what she'd just experienced was real.

"You never drugged me, did you?" Her words were less a
question than a statement. "This is all real, isn't it?" She
watched Axiom carefully, still hoping for a rational explanation.

He grimaced and nodded. "Again, I am sorry, but yes. It
is real."

Laurell's head fell into her hands and she let out a hysterical laugh. What a joke. What a cruel joke.

"You are in shock. I should get you warm. I will light the
fire." He stood and helped her to her feet. She wobbled toward the fireplace on unsteady legs, but refused the chair
he offered, afraid she'd be unable to stand again if she sat.
She watched Axiom toss a log into the fireplace.

"God knows I should be in shock after all I've been through
over the past twenty-four hours, but no, I don't think I am,"
Laurell told him.

Axiom's hands stilled. "Then why did you laugh again?
What amused you this time?"

"You."

He jerked around to face her. "Me?"

"Yup. Because, you don't even realize how ridiculous it is
to think I can give birth to the savior of the planet."

Axiom's jaw hardened. "Ridiculous how?"

Laurell's heart twisted as though it would rip in two.
"You ever hear of a thing called endometriosis?"

He raised his eyebrows in question.

"Well," she continued, "I've suffered from it my whole
life. One of its side effects is infertility."

He didn't respond to that bit of news, but sorrow
tinged his features. Why is he sad? I'm the infertile one. Lau yell straightened her spine and stubbornly blinked away the
tears that threatened to spill.

"I can't have kids, Axiom. You've got the wrong girl."
Head held high, she stalked past him toward the door. She
refused to let him see just how deep the admission cut.
Having a child of her own had been her one shot at having
a family. A real family.

The scent of sandalwood alerted her to Axiom's presence
behind her. His arms wound around her and held her. His unexpected tenderness almost did her in. She let herself linger
there for a moment, just enjoying being touched. It had been
a long time since she'd been held by anyone.

She remembered the knife then. Could he feel it in her
jeans? The thing had become damn uncomfortable there,
scraping against her back. Thank god for the dish towel
covering it. And her baggy sweatshirt.

Laurell tensed and pulled herself from his arms. He started
to touch her, but she raised her palms to him. "Just give me a
minute, okay?"

Axiom nodded and settled her into a chair with a blanket. This time she sat gratefully. She was so damn tired.
Suddenly she didn't care if she never got out of that chair
again. The fire crackled and spit. She heard pots banging,
cupboards slamming shut.

The air filled with the scent of fried eggs and bacon. Her
stomach growled. Moments later, Axiom handed her a plate
of food and a glass of orange juice. He sat in a recliner next
to her, and silence reigned as they consumed their food. Out
of the corner of her eye, she observed him. He ate with
vigor, sighing with unrestrained pleasure when he chewed
the bacon. Her own belly pulsed with want of food and she
forced herself to chew her eggs slowly, though she was ravenous with hunger.

"I guess you like bacon," she mused aloud.

He nodded. "I find the flavor pleasing." Axiom chewed
some jam-slathered toast, then licked his fingers, getting
each last crumb. A frisson of heat jolted between her legs
at the sight. She frowned and pushed the desire away.

"Why do you eat like that?"

Axiom paused and tore his eyes from his food to give her
a blank stare. "How is it that I am eating?"

"Like a pig." She was being nasty. It felt good. She hated
how vulnerable he made her feel.

Axiom swallowed and blinked. For the first time his expression was one of uncertainty. "I apologize. I am still becoming accustomed to food consumption."

She sighed. "Gods don't eat, I take it."

Axiom shook his head. He glanced at her still half-full
dish and said, "You had better eat more than that. You still
need to regain your strength." He turned back to his meal.
When his plate was spotlessly clean, he took his dish to the
sink. Laurell cleaned her plate quickly when his back was
turned. She was so damn hungry.

She drained her juice and walked the glass over to him.
One lock of hair curled over his forehead as he scrubbed a
skillet with focused vigor, then took a dish towel to it.

"Thank you," she murmured.

Axiom paused in his task and glanced at her, searching
her face for sarcasm. He looked back at the pan.

"I do not mind cleansing our dishes. I have observed humans doing these small tasks. It is in some fashion enjoyable to me," he said.

Laurell didn't respond. She nodded and turned to walk
away, but Axiom stopped her. "Laurell."

She turned back to him. His gaze was serious. He reached
out one hand as though to touch her. She instinctively
tensed, and his arm dropped to his side.

"The illness you have dealt with, the one you believe left
you barren ... it is a terrible thing. I do regret you had to
endure such a trial."

He must have sensed her pulling back into herself at his
words, because his voice took on a soothing note.

"Illness or no, you will bear my child."

She bit her lip. "How can I have a kid with you? I told
you-

"Laurell, I am not truly human. I inhabit this body, yes,
but I am still a god. You will bear my child."

Laurell froze. His words washed over her, thick with possibility. Elation and fear bubbled through her, one vying
with the other for dominance. Impossible, she thought. How
can I believe him? It hurt how much she wanted to believe.
What if he spoke the truth? What then?

Later that day, while Axiom showered, Laurell retrieved
her backpack from its place beside the bed. She pulled the
smuggled knife from her jeans and slipped it inside. She
wasn't even sure why she still felt the need to keep the
thing. Axiom had made no move to harm her, and she was
even starting to think there was some truth to his stories.

She frowned. Better to have some weapon than none.
For all she knew, Axiom wasn't the only threat. Her hand
brushed the cover of her grandmother's Book of Shadows.
She wanted to read it, but not with Axiom hovering over
her shoulder. She'd wait a bit longer.

Surely she'd get some privacy soon.

Anne, High Priestess of Hidden Circle Coven, shoved several bags of groceries into her Chevy S- 10 pickup truck and
climbed into the driver's seat. She glanced in the rearview
mirror and pushed her chin-length, strawberry blonde hair
from her eyes, thinking she needed a haircut.

She pulled the truck out of the grocery store parking lot
and headed north toward home. The winding, hilly roads
of Black Earth, Wisconsin, were dappled with sunlight.
Thick with trees and brush, the forest she loved soon became the only scenery, a collage of colors: green, brown, orange, and amber.

Goddess, she adored the fall in Wisconsin. In fact, she
loved everything about living way out here in the woods,
surrounded by foliage and birds and all the other little
scampering creatures of nature. She rolled down the window, frowning at the effort this required. The truck was old;
the turning mechanism for the driver side window was
rusty. Fresh, pine-scented air filled the vehicle, and the
breeze whipped her hair around her face.

Anne yawned. She was tired, hungry, and had to pee.
Should have gone at the grocery store. She drove a few miles
more and remembered a small dirt road that left the highway and merged with the woods. She and Reese had picnicked there in the past. Once, they'd spent an afternoon of
passion in the bed of her pickup truck atop a blanket she'd bought on a trip to Mexico. The place was secluded and far
enough away from the road that no one would notice if she
made a pit stop there.

She spied the dirt road, slowed, and turned the truck
down the narrow path. It really was more path than road.
Anne stopped the vehicle and climbed out, grateful for the
sneakers she wore. The ground was muddy from a recent
rain. She stifled another yawn, yanked her jeans down, and
did her business. Exhaustion was kicking in. She needed to
rest. The late nights working with Helen and getting the
safe house ready had worn her thin.

As she zipped her pants and turned toward the truck, a
rotten, sulfurous odor permeated the air.

A stabbing sensation knifed her gut, knocking the air
from her lungs. Her gaze flew to her abdomen, expecting to
see some instrument cutting her. Nothing. Out of the corner of her eye, she detected movement. She turned, but
saw no one. Searing pain sliced through her head, and she
stumbled backward into the side of the truck.

She grabbed onto the vehicle with one hand and lifted
the other to her face. She touched something wet and warm.

"What the-" Her heart raced. Blood, bright as a cardinal's feathers, stained her palm. Where was it coming from?
She felt warmth on her belly and glanced down to see her
pale blue T-shirt quickly turning that same shade of crimson. She lifted her shirt with trembling fingers. A large
wound there was emitting copious amounts of blood. Instinctively, she put her hands to her middle and pressed in,
trying to stop the flow.

A bizarre buzzing sound filled her ears, and she blinked
twice, uncertain whether she imagined what she was seeing
or if it was real. The air a few feet in front of her shimmered and twisted. One clawlike black hand appeared,
then two. They pulled the air apart as though it were a solid structure. To the hands was added a misshapen head with
hollowed-out eyes and a thin, willowy torso. The buzzing
noise became a low keening that came from the thing in
front of her. The creature had two glowing pinpoints for eyes,
and it stared at her.

Run. Move. But she couldn't. Another burst of razorsharp pain, this time in her chest. The creature, slightly
transparent, moved close to her, so close she was shrouded
by the thing. Its form clung to her face like cobwebs. She
could feel it shifting against her, and it moaned and undulated in orgiastic pleasure. Help me. Help. She tried in vain
to make her limbs wake up, but it was no use.

The creature spoke into her mind. You will not mother the
Earth Balancer. You will die now, witch.

Her heart plummeted, and she knew. She knew it was the
truth. Goddess keep me, was the last thought to flutter through
her mind before the pain became so unbearable that she sank
gratefully into unconsciousness.

The woman was driving him to insanity. Axiom gritted his
teeth and forcibly pulled Laurell back into the circle of his
arms as she moved to scurry away. Damn stubborn human.

"Cease fighting me, Laurell," he told her for the third
time that day. She seemed to think hiding on the other side
of the room would somehow make it easier to avoid the
yearning, although distance mattered little once its energy
was unleashed.

"I don't see why we have to practice practically on top of
each other like this," she protested.

"I already explained this to you. We must be prepared for
all possibilities. That includes warding the yearning even
when we are close to consummation."

As expected, she remained stiff against him. Equally ex pected, the yearning surged and pulsed through his body,
tendrils of desire reaching out from her skin to his.

The roundness of her jean-clad bottom against his groin
and the swell of her full breasts resting on his arms caused
his pants to tighten around a fierce erection. His mind
merged with hers, and he could sense the shivers that ran
through her as she recognized his hardness.

A small sigh of pleasure escaped her lips. For a moment,
he almost lost his own warding. Axiom's head bent seemingly of its own accord, and his face burrowed against her
neck. He breathed deeply of amber, recognizing it as the
fragrant oil Laurell had dotted on her neck and wrists that
morning after bathing. Had she applied the scent to please
him? He knew it unlikely, but smiled at the possibility. His
lips curved against the softness of her neck.

Laurell shivered and let her head fall slack against his
chest, lips parted. Axiom narrowed his eyes at the sudden
urge to taste her mouth. He lifted his head and shook it to
clear away the tenuous hold the yearning had tried to place
upon him. His ward was in place. Hers was not.