Captive Moon (38 page)

“Maybe they can’t. But we can!” Tahira said as she and her brother both slammed into the cobra with claws and fangs extended. Blood erupted in thick lines that coated Antoine and stung his eyes. Sargon thrashed and slapped at the tigers with his tail and tried to shake them off, since he couldn’t reach them to bite them.

Antoine jumped as he felt a hand on his bare shoulder and turned to find Nasil staring at the battle with cold eyes. He smiled evilly and then whispered, “Krhlow plihep!”

Snake and tigers all reacted as though struck by a wrecking ball. The air began to glow with the power of the sun. Tahira reared back and shrieked in agony, hanging on to the snake only by her claws. Sargon raised his head to the sky and hissed and thrashed as though he were being cut apart.

“Tahira!” Antoine couldn’t decide whether to attack Sargon now, try to help Ahmad while he was distracted, or gather Tahira to him to ease her pain.

Nasil made the decision for him. He pushed Antoine forward almost viciously with a strong hand on his back. “It’s yours for the taking and it will destroy him! Go to Tahira and help her slay this demon.”

Antoine didn’t know what he meant, but he moved forward, anyway. He heard Nasil’s voice call out from behind. “Tahira! You have the ability to choose to end this! That which is taken must be given. Only love is stronger than hate, so make your choice!”

She couldn’t see through the fire that burned in her vision. Somehow the well inside her had opened once more, and unimaginable magic made her skin swell and seared across her mind. Her very fur was glowing, and she couldn’t help but remember the old William Blake poem.

“Tyger! Tyger! burning bright, in the forest of the night!” She thought she was saying the line in her head, but the sound of the words filled the room until it was painful to her ears, like a scream that was pulled from her very soul. Somewhere in the distance, she heard Antoine yell, and Larry’s voice telling her to choose. But choose what?

Again, the words whispered into her mind, What the hand dare seize the fire? She turned her head, as though in slow motion, and saw Antoine slashing his way across the snake’s dense body. His panic was so real, and so painfully endearing that she knew, absolutely knew what Larry meant. Sargon had planned to drain her, but she was draining him instead.

The power flowed through her veins, turning her skin, muscle, and bones into the living embodiment of magic. Without a second thought, she willed herself human again and flung herself into Antoine’s arms. He grabbed her and held her tight against him with something close to a sob. She pushed power into him in a fiery burst that arched his back and pulled a cry of agony from his lips. She pulled his face down and covered those lips with hers, fed the fire into him wherever their skin touched. He tried to pull away from the kiss, but she held him tight, willed him to accept the fire and love inside her.

She filled him until he was a glowing star, golden and pure with a light that rivaled the harvest moon.

But there was still more to give. The fire was still strong enough to burn, so she reached out and found the others who owned a piece of her heart. Rabi was filled until he resembled her—a neon sculpture of fur and muscle. Even Ahmad, for all of his faults, had showed himself honorable and worthy. She went to him, raised him up and held him close, even though she never moved from Antoine’s embrace. He woke as she filled him with fire. He welcomed the power, pulled on it greedily until he was fat and lush with it. She felt Antoine pull away from her, hand her back to Nasil. She looked past the eyes of a traitor and into Larry’s eyes, silently asking if he wanted to share the fire, but he shook his head.

“There’s another more deserving. Reach out and see if she can be saved.”

Giselle! She whispered the word and felt the old healer faintly in the next room. She was barely hanging on. I’ll heal you.

She felt the old cat’s words in her mind. No, child. My time is over. Too much was taken and the venom from the spider was too strong.

She started to run, to find her and save her. Grabbing the corner of the doorway into the other chamber, she swung in, but Giselle wasn’t there. She realized almost belatedly that tears were streaming down her cheeks. Where are you, Giselle? You’ll be fine. I have more power than I know what to do with. I’ll give your magic back to you. Hold on for me.

Tahira, please listen. I can think of no one more fitting to inherit my power than you. You must help them. You must use my power to save your people—and mine—from Sargon’s menace. Tell Antoine for me that I’m very proud of him. He is a … great leader of our people … more than I ever could have been. Take ca … care of hi—

“GISELLE!” Tahira dropped to her hands and knees as she felt Giselle slip away. She vaguely felt sharp stones ripping at her skin. She cried wordlessly from the sudden emptiness in her mind.

But then there was an audible pop, and sound flooded her brain. Antoine’s scream of anger and pain told Tahira that he knew Giselle had died. There was nothing more she could do—at least not for Giselle. She turned and ran back across the cool stone. Even with the three men sharing the excess power, Sargon was slowly but steadily winning. She watched as Antoine threw Rabi away from a frighteningly fast strike, and Sargon’s fangs buried themselves in Antoine’s shoulder instead.

She rushed forward but was pulled to the side by Larry and held in a grip of iron.

“Nasil!” Sargon’s voice boomed through the chamber. “Kill these fleas that attack me and bring the girl to me!”

Tahira struggled in his grip, stared into his cold, hard eyes and pleaded. “Larry, please! I have to get to them! Please don’t let them die!”

Nasil looked from her to Sargon and back again. His voice rang out over the sound of snarls and hisses. It was filled with something like sorrow, but his scent was determined. “I’m sorry, my lord. But as you said—you can’t trust those who can be bought, and there are things more valuable than money. You’ve been … outbid.” He pulled Tahira close to him and whispered, “Use it well.” Then he pushed his own power into her until she screamed. He was nearly as powerful as Sargon himself, and her vision began to sparkle and burn with blue-tinged fire.

She vaguely heard the words, “Rghnl olpnst nbwiq! Hoplez requay!” and then she was standing alone at the edge of the battle. Only Rabi was still in animal form, and he was tearing mouthfuls of flesh from the snake’s neck, while Ahmad and Antoine hacked at Sargon desperately with magic and blades. They were all bloodied, and the scent of their pain and fear angered her.

She felt the power swirl inside her until it was a tight ball in her chest. It hovered there, making her skin feel so tight it felt like it could tear apart. Her lungs couldn’t expand for air and her heart couldn’t beat. But she didn’t need them. She could not only use the power, she was the power.

With a roar of animal rage that transcended any humanity inside her, Tahira launched herself forward, turning in midair to a shining tiger with a coat of pure flame. As though the snake was dry tinder, Sargon erupted in a blaze of orange and blue so intense that Antoine, Rabi, and Ahmad were forced to move away from the fury of it.

She held on with her teeth like a thing possessed, as he fought and struggled to rid himself of the thing he had created—the animal, and the woman, that would be the instrument of his doom. The toxic fumes as he burned made her dizzy, and she felt her blood flowing freely as he savagely beat her body into a sharp stalactite and bit her in a frenzy. She dug in her claws and increased the fire, letting her hatred for his acts against Antoine and Larry, Rabi and Giselle fill her with the need for vengeance.

Finally, with a scream that she feared would haunt her until the day she died, Sargon of Akkade crumbled into a hot ash that rained down on her head as she dropped to the cool stone. It coated her skin and burned away the pain in her heart.

CHAPTER Twenty

Reddish dust rose in a cloud around the Jeep as Antoine braked to a stop under a lone tree at the edge of a tiny village a few miles from the Iranian border. The cold wind reminded Antoine of the holiday season, even if the surroundings didn’t. It would be the first Christmas in his life that his Grand-mère wouldn’t be—

He ran his fingers through his newly cut collar-length hair, and pulled off his sunglasses to look at the gorgeous woman in the seat beside him. “Are you certain that I’m invited to this, Tahira? We don’t need to start a war just because I’m curious. I didn’t even have time to buy a suitable tribute.” He’d considered bringing the cognac, since they’d been too tired and wounded to open the bottle after Sargon’s death. But there hadn’t been time.

Tahira smiled and pulled the scarf from her striped hair, shaking it until it lay in loose, luxurious waves around her shoulders. “Rabi called me personally and said I was supposed to bring you. He wouldn’t be taking over the kabile at all this early if we hadn’t defeated Sargon. You helped, so he wants you there. Don’t worry about a gift. He doesn’t care.” She touched his hair and smiled. “I still can’t get used to the short hair. It just looks so different.”

Antoine smirked and put the sunglasses on top of his head, tucking the ends behind his ears. “Well, I’d already lost the bet after half of it singed off from the firestorm in the cave. I was lucky I didn’t lose it all. And as for Rabi, he’s taking over the kabile because you turned him into a full-blown sahip with your little power play.”

She opened the Jeep door and swung her skirt-clad legs out, carefully checking the ground before she put a foot on the sand. He wasn’t sure why, but it seemed to be important to her.

She shrugged. “I wouldn’t have had to fill him if you’d just taken it all like you were supposed to.”

He walked around the back of the Jeep and held out his hand to help her out. “I would have been the one who burned to ash if you had pushed any more power into me. As it is, the cats in Reno are nervous when I’m on stage with them.”

“Are they? I didn’t know that. It’s been almost two weeks. Do you think they’ll get over it?”

He held out his arm and she tucked her hand through the crook. “I certainly hope so. But we’re a bit worried about the Midwest tour. Margo was able to change a few of the venues, but…”

She got a look of disbelief and smelled of annoyance. “You’re making her work? Antoine! She just barely survived the spider’s venom. If Raven hadn’t shown up when he did, she might not have made it.”

He let out a frustrated breath. “No, she’s insisting on working. I’ve tried to keep her down, and so has Dale. She keeps sneaking into the office, and I don’t have the heart to take away her keys. She says she has nightmares if she doesn’t keep busy, and after I found out that Rachel had taken Bruce away in spider form, I understand why.”

They started to walk toward a small gathering of people. Tahira kept her voice low, and a frustrated scent began to rise from her. “I didn’t know that either. God, it feels like we haven’t talked in months, Antoine. I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but so much has happened and you’ve been so busy. Have you heard from them?”

“Bruce and… Nasil? No. We searched for them after you killed Sargon, but they’d disappeared. Nasil called Matty to tell him where we were and that we were okay, and—”

“I know,” she completed. “And then they left town. I meant since then. Do you think he made Bruce forget, or did he leave with him knowing?”

Antoine shook his head. It was a question he’d been asking himself since it had happened. “I don’t know. I have to admit I was surprised that he gave his power to you to help us.”

“And to save his own butt.”

“Yes, that too. But there was still some little part of Larry that was there at the end. He said he might regret killing us, so … maybe. I don’t know that Bruce would leave him after he played the hero. Maybe they’ll show up someday. But for now, I’ll have to find someone to replace them in the show. With the emergency council meetings and planning Grand-mère’s memorial, I’m afraid that life has been frantic.”

“Please let me know when the memorial service is. I definitely want to be there. I can’t believe we couldn’t find her body in the cave to have a proper funeral.”

“Cats often disappear when it’s their time,” Antoine said with a sigh. “The cave was quite large and we didn’t have much time. I’m hoping the Wolven agents will be able to find her and bring her home.”

Tahira nodded sadly, but then her mood changed. She raised her hand and waved to someone in the crowd with a blight smile. It was nice to see her smile. He’d forgotten just how lovely she was when she was happy. Had it really been two weeks since that night? It felt like only a day or two had passed. He felt her tug away and gasp in surprise and joy as a dark-haired man with vivid blue eyes swaggered up to them.

“Matty!” She ran forward and leapt into his arms, hugging him tight.

He held her with one arm and put out his other hand to shake Antoine’s. “G’day, mates! Thanks heaps for inviting me, Tahira. I wouldn’t miss this for all the Tim Tams in Sydney!”

“Thank you so much for changing your flight. I was worried that you’d already left for the walkabout. Did you get everything carved and painted and stuff? We haven’t talked since Germany.”

He looked at her ruefully. “Yeah, not much else to do while you’re waiting for word on whether your best mates are still alive. I got loads done while you were all out saving the world. Everything’s ace now. But I have to admit that I’m nervous. I haven’t spent much time in the bush. I wish I had a bit more time before the corroboree to practice closer to … well, to a city. But, I decided that it was worth trying, even if I fail. I think that Gramps would have wanted that.”

“Promise me you’ll let me know how it goes!” She smiled when he winked and nodded.

Antoine saw movement from the corner of his eye and jumped out of the way just in time to avoid being hit by a sleek black SUV with a Mercedes emblem. It stopped right next to their Jeep, and he was surprised to see Ahmad emerge from the driver’s seat. He was alone, without any guards. He was dressed in flowing robes over loose white pants. The patterned head cloth and black ogal of a desert sheikh was much more fitting of the location than Antoine’s own khaki-colored suit pants and white dress shirt.