Darkness Unbound (18 page)

Zannis exploded with a roar. When she could think again, she slid out of his arms and gazed at him. So handsome. Fearless. Noble. Her body wanted to accept everything he could give, but somewhere deep inside she ached for everything that was Kane. Guilt tore through her brain. Somehow, despite how right it seemed to be with Zannis physically, she felt guilty. As if she was cheating on Kane.

Damn it. This wasn’t right. She could be with neither Zannis nor Kane, yet wanted each in his own way. Her chest ached as if ripped apart.

She was damaged goods. And right now, despite however glorious these stolen moments with Zannis had been, she needed to be alone to sort through the confusion cascading in her mind.

She stepped away from Zannis, avoiding his gaze.

Rouhi?
he asked in her mind.

“I…” She glanced up into his bewildered face. “I’m sorry. My mind…I’m messed up right now. I think…I need to come to terms with everything.”

He whispered, “I am sorry. Let me clothe and send me back
.
” He gently pulled on her chin to meet his gaze. “I love you. You are the other half of my soul. But I understand. We are pawns in the gods’ games, and they are not done with us.”
I dread what they plan next for us.

She nodded and pulled a towel tight around her. She kept her back to him while he toweled off and dressed. As he stepped through the portal she said in his mind,
I’m sorry.

Chapter Twelve

Zannis stepped into the dim barren lower realm and leaned his shoulders into an ugly spiked rock formation. He slid to a sit with the side of his head against the cold stone. He lacked the motivation to initiate another round with the serpent beast. His escape from this region hinged on besting the creature. Should he progress onward to a different domain his reward would be new horrors, and another asinine task to complete.

Touching Astrid, joining with her, had been incredible. Yet, they lacked the soul-deep connection they’d shared the first time. That devastated him. He knew their bond had been damaged the moment Djoser forced him to murder her, but he hadn’t realized how great the divide that separated them spanned.

Still, he hadn’t wanted to leave her. He wanted tomorrow and the next day, a week…hell, he wanted forever. They could work through this. He’d seen all the other magi find their mates countless times and hurdle some pretty whopping bullshit the gods threw their way. Yet, he had no idea how he could improve the divide between them when she held all the cards with regard to when he was allowed into her life.

Light flashed nearby. A tall human-like being with blue hair and Egyptian facial structure moved his way with a confidence that screamed
I’m a god
. Zannis dove to prostration.

“Rise, my son. ’Tis time we converse.”

Zannis gazed upward into the unfamiliar face of his father. He didn’t dare address the deity, fearing only garbled words would spill from his mouth.

Amun-Ra waved a hand. Two lounge chairs appeared. “Sit,” he ordered.

Zannis perched on the edge of the wooden chair opposite Amun-Ra. His lungs barely worked as he stared in awe at the being that had given him life, and at the same time dreaded whatever catastrophe necessitated a personal visitation. If Amun-Ra wanted a father-son relationship, he would have sought him out eons ago.

Amun-Ra released a long exhale and flattened his lips. “I must ask a difficult task of you.” The god’s bass voice rumbled around them.

Zannis inclined his head.
Was he destined for anything other than difficult?
Fear ratcheted up his heart rate. Now came the checkmate he feared he must pay as penalty for lying with Astrid. On the chessboard of his existence, everything was preordained. He’d fought it, hated it, but now accepted it. Free will was bullshit. And never for him.

Amun-Ra folded his hands too calmly in his lap. “There will be a time, soon, when you must allow the daemon kill you.”

Oh fuck.
“Which daemon?”
Why even ask?

“Djoser.”

Of course.
“You wish me to die? To let that demented bastard that forced me to almost kill Astrid kill me? Does that not kill Astrid as well?” He clasped his hands together tightly.

Amun-Ra’s face saddened. “I ask that you place your trust in me. This is the only way.”

“The only way for what?” Zannis dug his fingernail deep into his opposite hand.

“This is the only way for her to survive. For both of you to continue.”

The god wanted him to choose to go into reincarnation. “If her life is at risk, then I will do what must be done. She did not deserve what Djoser did to her. Why would you guys let that happen?”

The rocks around them shook. A rockslide started high above them. Zannis cringed when boulders tumbled toward them, but they magically cascaded to either side of them as if they sat under an umbrella.

Amun-Ra scowled toward the horizon where a red moon rested low in the sky. “What was done to both of you was unexpected. Unplanned.” His head slowly turned to meet Zannis’s gaze. “I do not do unplanned. The god who sought to bend fate to his will is a thorn that needs pruning. All will happen as it must. This time.”

“Then why let me be with her again when we were not meant to be? Why not let me die? Send me into the next incarnation and eventually meet her in her time.”

“The prophesy foretells your child, not the child of a reincarnation. The first blood-born of a god and her.”

He hated falling into the gods’ plans. “How are you any better than Min? Studding me out to your pick for your next generation.”

“Your child will survive, if you do this.”

Breathe hissed from his lungs. His mind went blank. “She is with child?”

“Your son will make you proud, and be more powerful than either of you.”

“If I am to die, why can I not at least see my son once?”

“You will. But not in this incarnation.”

Thoughts of another man touching Astrid tortured his brain. It didn’t matter that it would probably be his reincarnated soul. The other incarnate wasn’t him. But he’d lived this shit long enough to know he didn’t get to pick his future. This was his fate. To die. “Please promise you will protect him. And her. That you will not allow history to repeat itself.”

Amun-Ra gripped Zannis’s arm. Power flooded into Zannis’s body. “I will put myself between anything that deems to harm them. You have my vow. Astrid…she is much stronger than she knows. She has allies that she has yet to meet.”

“Thank you.” Zannis drew a shaky breath. “She will make a fierce mother.”

Amun-Ra smiled. “That she will.”

“Will my incarnation remember my past?”

“Do you wish such?”

“There are so few who remember. But I’d not wish myself to remember until we are bonded. Not a bond through Ma’at’s ceremony, though, but at a strong bond of friendship…love.”

Amun-Ra nodded.

“What of the dragons? I do not want them to suffer. They have been faithful companions for a long time. They have earned their freedom.”

“They cannot be released into any domain. They cannot be gifted to a human-born magus. They will not respect anyone other than you.”

“What does that mean? That none of my incarnations can have them?”

“Yes, your future incarnations can have them. You are the only magus who can have them. They can only be controlled by…” Amun-Ra added softly, “A male god.”

“I am not such.”

“Ah, but you are, my son. You were cast into the human realm and into a human body by your mother in a fit of absurdity. You are one of my rightful sons. I am saddened that you were consigned to anonymity. Yet, in your next incarnation you will retain deity status, although trapped in the human realm. I cannot undo what your mother has done. She…” He sighed and shook his head. “She remains steadfast in nurturing her first two sons, and not you. This is not of your doing. Like magi, we gods are also gifted reincarnation.”

Zannis snapped his lower jaw shut the moment he realized it gaped. He whispered, “I am no god.”

Amun-Ra smiled sadly. “The Sword of Neith listens only to one that is of pure god-blood. That is why the blade burns all others.”

“Who switched the sword, if it burns any but a god? And why?”

“Here we return to meddling. The weapon switched for the Sword of Neith was a mercurial sword that could takes on the appearance of whatever weapon the bearer desired, but it could not take on the other weapon’s powers.” Amun-Ra gazed into the distance again. “That weapon belonged to Anubis who did not sanction the act. Of that I am certain. We had a less-than-congenial conversation over that event.”

“If I am…not a human magus, then how is a daemon going to end me?”

“He will have another weapon that was given to him by the god that meddles, a weapon able to kill a god. This was…allowed this time.”

In the dense silence that descended, Zannis stared at the cold slap of his reality. His death had been sanctified. Planned. “I want to remember. All of it. Otherwise, all I have been through. This place…this…” Silently he added
hell.
“Was for naught.”

Amun-Ra stood and gripped his shoulder. “You are a worthy son.” And disappeared.

How was he to succumb? He’d been born fighting. He knew how to use every and any weapon at his disposal. There was no other way for him. Zannis covered his face with his hands, wishing he could have a different future. He slammed his eyes shut as panic licked up his spine and left his skin cold with goose bumps. He was being sucked into this reality no matter what he did to pull himself free.

****

A day later Astrid followed Ashor and Christian out of the dark night into the Richmond Cathedral. She shook off her sleep haze, having caught less than four hours of rest since she sent Zannis back. Guilt and confusion tore at her brain. Sleep had been a joke. Every time she closed her eyes she saw the blurred vision of Kane’s eyes over Zannis’s blues. Renewed chills skirted down her spine.

The church’s narthex was lit by a single wall sconce, but the main hall was pitch black. She gripped Zannis’s sword between two hands. The thing was too heavy for her, but no one offered her an alternative weapon. And she hadn’t asked.

“This is less than ideal,” Ashor grumbled. “If there weren’t three other daemons a continent away—”

“I don’t like this,” Christian interrupted. “This reeks of bad juju.”

Ashor skewered her with a dark gaze. “Do not get killed.”

Indignation bubbled up. “I can handle myself.”

Ashor clapped a hand on her shoulder and dropped his tone. “I know you can, but do you feel the energy buzz?”

She frowned, not
feeling
anything.

Ashor withdrew his black-blade scimitar and stared into the dark sanctuary. “There’s a power in here that I do not think is from a daemon. Something darker. More vicious.”

“It’s female,” Christian added. “Astrid, promise me that you’ll get that ancient dude here, if this goes south.”

She nodded.

Christian announced, “I found a light switch.” Small lights lit along the side walls of the sanctuary. Helpful, but still dim.

“Stay together. At least within visual range,” Ashor ordered as he stalked down the dark main aisle. He bellowed, “Show yourself!”

Astrid’s eyes adjusted to the low light as she trailed behind. An iridescent mist swirled to Ashor’s left and solidified into a huge daemon. It wore a tattered military uniform with a small cross-shaped medal affixed to his chest. She strained to make out a miniature swastika at the center of the cross.

A delighted chuckle echoed behind Astrid. She spun. A cold aqua gaze greeted her.

“Fuck,” Christian whooshed out. “That’s Djoser. Also known as…”

“Terek Nadir,” Astrid finished.

Djoser smiled and pushed up the sleeves of his billowing
bisht
robes to reveal forearms scarred with small linear lacerations. He addressed her. “I am sad we did not get to meet when you were with us before so that I could personally extend my hospitality.” He clapped his hands together in delight. Six Hashishins hovered behind him.

“Feel the energy off those humans?” Christian whispered.

Astrid shook her head, not picking up anything other than her shocked
oh shit
.

Christian leaned close to her and whispered, “They’re
Fedavis
. That’s the top tier of the Hashishin pyramid.”

“Time to ask Draggon to join us, Astrid,” Ashor said softly. “I’ll handle the Nazi.”

Christian’s head swiveled to Ashor and nodded. He moved between her and Djoser.

Ashor parried his sword against the Nazi daemon’s claws. The daemon laughed and landed a flesh-tearing swipe down Ashor’s side. Ashor staggered for a second, yelled and charged.

Astrid focused for the energy deep within to open the doorway to Zannis without breaking her stare on Djoser. Awe transformed Djoser’s face as the portal opened and Zannis stepped through.

’Tis time,
Zannis purred inside her mind.
Give me my sword. Tell the charmer magus to take care of the humans that Djoser leads.

She whispered, “Christian, he said for you to get the Hashishins.” She handed Zannis his sword as he walked by.

Djoser grinned—eerie, terrifying. He raised his hands and murmured a spell. Zannis paused his approach for a moment and frowned. He stood straight and then launched himself toward Djoser. Djoser’s arms morphed into those of a daemon and swiped. Zannis gripped his forehead that now spewed red and roared before he attacked.

Christian whipped behind Djoser to attack the humans.

“So, Astrid. We meet again. This time you will not be so lucky,” a woman’s melodic voice chimed behind her.

She remembered that seductive feminine purr. Ibioni. Zannis’s wife.

Ex-wife,
Zannis amended in her mind.
Careful.

“Ibioni.” Astrid slow turned, desperate to stall and realizing she had nothing with which to fight this woman.

Ibioni lunged, a curved dagger in her fist. Astrid hopped left, avoiding the blade. Ibioni swiveled and jumped forward to grip Astrid’s arm. Immobilizing pain lacerated Astrid’s skull. She fell to her knees. Ibioni laughed.