West of Want (Hearts of the Anemoi) (26 page)

All at once, she remembered the first night she’d made love with Zeph. Him flashing them from the hallway into the bed. Her mind whirled. Eurus had…taken her. Clearly. And she was…

What’s happening? Where am I?

His chuckle echoed through her consciousness, and she hated the violation of his presence there.
Just look around, Ella. You’re an avid sailor, are you not? You’ll recognize the landmarks.

She focused, concentrated, looked down at the landscape over which they soared. Red lights flashed along the length of a grouping of towers. They looked so familiar…the radio towers at Greenbury Point! Directly beneath them, the bay was a black surface in motion.

Oh, Jesus, the tops of those towers were really fucking far beneath them. A panicked shudder rippled through Ella’s soul.

Eurus, please take me back. Please
.

The begging’s a nice touch. Do keep that up.

She tried to struggle, but had no idea how to manipulate her body, her existence, whatever, in this state. But no way she was giving him the satisfaction of her begging for her life or crying out for Zeph.

Besides, the reality of the situation was sinking in down to her marrow. Begging wouldn’t make any difference. Nothing would.

They rode the air currents over the bay, near the bridge that bore its name, and shot upward unexpectedly.

She slammed back into her physical body so hard, she choked and gagged.

“Careful now, wouldn’t want to fall,” Eurus said with dark delight.

Ella sucked in a breath, still feeling fragmented and confused. Cold, damp wind whipped her hair around her face. Orientation returned in starts and stops, but exhaustion swamped her, made her muscles heavy and sluggish.

“Why?” she groaned.

“Don’t look for meaning where there is none, you fucking human piece of trash. I do it because I can. And because you should’ve died the first time. I’m just setting things straight.”

Ella groaned and her head went slack on her neck. She forced her eyes open, and…
No. Nononono
. “Oh, God, no.” Adrenaline shot awareness through her system. A moan ripped from her throat. They’d come out of the wind and materialized on top of the tallest suspension tower of the Bay Bridge. Below, westbound traffic appeared tiny, like toy cars, as it headed toward Annapolis and D.C., completely unaware of the disaster unfolding above them.

From where she stood, swayed, it had to be pushing four hundred feet to the water’s surface.

Another realization exploded into her brain. No way Zeph would’ve allowed this to happen. She fought and pushed until she whirled in Eurus’s arms. “What did you do to Zephyros?” She ripped her hands free and pummeled his chest, clawed at his face, newly disfigured in some way she couldn’t fully make out in the darkness. “What did you do to him?”

He trapped her wrists in an iron grip. She winced as a gaudy winged ring bit into her skin. “Now, Ella, why would I have done anything to Zephyros? I would never want him to miss this.”

Ella frowned, tugged at her hands. “What are you talking about?”

“Just this.” He released her hands. The preternatural weight of his stare boring into her through those dark glasses, a blast of cold wind hit her square in the chest.

She shot backward out into open space.

Her body, her life, went into a freefall.

…

Zephyros Martius was gone. In his place was a growling, roaring, feral beast strapped down against a bed like an animal tethered in a cage.

The supernatural restraints held him still and powerless as seconds passed, minutes, eternity. Eurus had gotten the jump on him that one other time because Zeph had been drained from the intensity of the healing. But this…he couldn’t understand, couldn’t fathom…it shouldn’t have been fucking possible.

All at once, he was free. He bolted off the bed and whipped into the elements, already flying, already tracking.

Ella!

His soul screamed to the heavens, thunder rumbling across the night sky in a low, eerie lament. Some part of his consciousness sensed Chrysander’s summons, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t think about anything other than his beloved.

She was dying.

Her life force cried out, fought, denied, each emotion crashing into Zeph’s soul.

Up, up, into the air he went. Searching, calling out, hunting down that unique aura that was all hers.

There!
Ahead. Oh, gods, he’d found her. He dug deep into his godhood and threw everything he had into getting to her. An unending chant sounded in his mind, a prayer, a litany.

Her special signature flared in a fantastic, brilliant explosion of energy.

Zeph’s psyche froze, suspended in time and space.

That special peaceful aura crackled and sparked. He poured out every last molecule of his godhood, racing, driving. He could still get to her. He had to get to her. It wasn’t too late. It
couldn’t
be too late.

Not again not again not again. Not Ella.

His heart, his life, his whole fucking world balanced on a knife’s edge. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, he was just energy in motion, energy in pursuit of life.

Then her energy, her life, was gone.

He strained to pick up even the smallest thread of her unique force, but it was no use.

There was nothing but devastatingly dead, white silence. The loudest thing he had ever heard, it shattered his ears and his heart.

Grief and rage flashed out of Zephyros, manifested in an instantaneous killer storm over the bay. Winds tore at the sky, rain and hail pummeled the earth. Waterspouts spiraled up from the surface, dancing, stalking, sucking up everything in their paths.

By one of the bridge’s concrete footings, something bobbed on the surface.

Zeph plunged from the sky. He knew what he would find before he got to her.

The freezing temperature might’ve harmed him if grief hadn’t already sucked the life and energy from his very existence. He grabbed Ella, turned her face up, felt the unnatural way her head flopped on her neck. “Oh love, oh love, oh love,” he keened, hugging her face into his throat. She was warm against him, and it was a horrible lie. A horrible fucking facsimile of life.

Zeph flashed them to the debris-strewn surface of the bridge footing and fell back against the concrete with Ella in his lap. Since she’d been gone for a few minutes, he didn’t possess the level of power required to bring her back. The worthlessness and uselessness might’ve been soul-piercing if every part of him wasn’t already obliterated. Around him, the sea, the air, the sky mirrored the catastrophic turmoil in his heart and soul.

Head to the heavens, Zephyros screamed and screamed.

Hands pulled and tugged at Zeph, but he barely felt it, couldn’t decipher the meaning of it.

“Z, come on, buddy. Z? Zephyros! I can’t get through to him. Damn it all to Hades, B, we gotta roll in more fog.”

A cold hand fell on his forehead. “Zephyros. I summon thee. Brother mine, maybe there is hope,” came a deep voice.

Chrys cursed under his breath. “B, what are you—”

“Zephyros, the Acheron.”

“Oh, fuck, Boreas. A human can’t—”

Zeph groaned and his head lolled on his neck, but slowly he regained control of his muscles, his faculties. He blinked, surprised to find Chrysander and Boreas hovering over him—he thought he’d dreamed them. He almost couldn’t make them out through the white blanket of some of the thickest fog he’d ever seen in his life. In the near distance, booming horns sounded from multiple locations.

“Gone,” he croaked, his vocal chords destroyed.

Huge hands grasped his face, tilted it upwards. “What would you be willing to sacrifice?” Boreas asked.

Zephyros sucked in a shuddering breath. “Anything.”

“Then take her to the Underworld. And make haste.”

“Fuck,” Chrys bit out again, blinding gold light blazing from his eyes. “This is such fucking shit!” He whirled on Zeph. “You go. You save her, Zephyros. You fucking save her. I’m going after Eurus.”

“Chrysander, no!” Boreas shouted.

But it was too late. A searing hot wind flashed through the fog and disappeared.

“Damn it.” Boreas’ head sagged, then his silver gaze cut to Zeph. “All right, Zephyros, give Ella to me. Come now, we must go.”

Zeph clutched her against him, heart thundering in his chest.

“Let me carry her for you. Your godhood is dangerously depleted. Concentrate on yourself, and I will take care of Ella as if she were mine own.”

“Please,” Zeph said, not recognizing the thin, shaky voice that came out of his mouth.

“You have my word.” Boreas slid his arms under Ella and lifted her from his brother’s lap.

Zephyros rose with her, as if they were attached. And they were. His heart, his soul, everything that was good and worthy about him, she owned every bit of it.

They shifted into their elemental form, rose up through dense fog that seemed to go on forever. Up, into the starless night sky. Away, toward the Realm of the Gods. Zephyros struggled to keep up with Boreas, but no way he was letting himself be separated from Ella, no way he was letting Boreas slow down. As they passed through the divine realm, Zeph imbibed the smallest amount of additional power. Drained as he was, it made a huge difference.

Down they soared, through the Styx and into the ancient Underworld. Zephyros went on full alert, every sense heightened and anticipating attack or interference from every direction. As they approached the Acheron, one of the five infernal rivers of Hades, they returned into corporeality.

Feeling a gratitude he might never be able to express, Zephyros quickly took Ella back into his arms. So pale now, so terrifyingly pale.

Ahead in the distance, Charon’s red eyes watched them, beckoned. But Zeph had no intentions of turning Ella’s soul over to the demonic ferryman to shepherd across to the Isles of the Blessed.

It wasn’t her time.

Zephyros turned to the water. As with all things divine, the Acheron worked on a give-and-take. The water possessed miraculous healing abilities, but it came at the cost of pouring your sorrows into its cold, dark currents. Over a year ago, Owen had found himself in need of the river, and said of the experience it was like living through every sadness and tragedy of your life as if they’d happened all at once and would never end.

Zeph would gladly open himself up for the soul-letting so she could partake of the healing.

Aeolus appeared out of thin air, right in his path.

“You cannot do this, Zephyros,” he said in a gentle, pitying voice.

Before Zeph even opened his mouth, Boreas stepped up next to him. “My lord, surely you can—”

Aeolus held up a bandaged hand, dark green eyes flaring. “This is not your concern, Boreas.”

Zeph narrowed in on the injury. “What happened to your hand?”

Aeolus glared. “It matters not.”

In that moment, Zeph agreed. Ella was what mattered now. Only Ella. Zeph nodded to his brother. “He’s right. You’ve done enough. I’ll take it from here.”

Boreas’s eyes flashed a sharp silver and his displeasure cut deep creases into his face. He shifted that intense gaze to their father. “I am going to say something that needs to be said, and you can strike me down for it if you want. But none of this would be happening if you had dealt with Eurus earlier, or dealt with him at all. Her death lies at
your
feet as much as Eurus’s.”

From behind them, a deep voice boomed. “I have to say, I rather agree.”