Chosen (10 page)

“
Refero vita
,” Artemis said, taking Kyana's hand and forcing it back up the mouse's body.

In seconds, the creature was once again the picture of health, its small pink nose twitching, its tiny paws scratching at its face in a quick bath. Artemis forced Kyana's hand toward the ground. With a little tweak of its nose, the dormouse disappeared into the greenery surrounding them.

“Wow.” The words
refero vita
rang over and over in her head. She didn't want to forget
that
one. “Would that have worked to bring Haven back? Before I turned her, I mean?”

A look of sorrow-filled understanding softened Artie's face. “I'm afraid not. It can only remove damage that particular god or goddess created. A spell reversal so to speak.”

“Oh.”

Artemis gripped Kyana's shoulder and forced her attention away from her empty hand. “This is not to be used lightly. You must understand that.”

“I get it.”

“Good.” Artemis stood and gestured for Kyana to do the same.

Kyana thought about Cronos. Of those following him. Of those killing for him. If she had even the smallest opportunity to put her hands on them and perform the trick Artemis had just taught her, she was damned sure going to pick the most painful disease she could think of.

And there'd be no spiffy
refero vita
when she was done.

Chapter Fifteen

F
eeling as though she'd received the first real moment of solitude she'd had in days, Kyana took her time patrolling Tolomato Cemetery that evening, enjoying the quiet of the near silent backstreets of St. Augustine. Ryker, determined not to be left behind after what had happened at their last cemetery patrol, was walking the military cemetery not too far away. And Geoffrey had taken Huguenot, though he'd been reluctant to leave Haven on Olympus alone. But taking Silas's powers had exhausted her and there was no way in hell she was in any sort of shape to join them tonight.

Most of Kyana's tracers had been sent to every other cemetery in the area, and hopefully, they had enough bases covered that one of them would find something that would finally give them an idea of where Cronos was hiding out. If they could catch him while he was weak, they might have a chance at stemming the brewing battle to come.

Not an optimistic person by nature, Kyana wasn't counting on it. But right now, it was the only plan they had.

She craned her neck to peer at the moon. It was nearly sunrise already, and with every minute that ticked by, the chances of finding anything amiss lessened. Soon, Ryker would come for her and they'd be forced to return Beyond and wait another full day to do this all over again. Irritation didn't begin to describe what that thought did to Kyana's already testy mood.

The faint echo of footsteps on the sidewalk outside the cemetery made her sigh. Ryker was early. That meant the military cemetery had been a dead end too. Lovely.

As she turned to face him, however, something struck the back of her skull, sending her to her knees. Before she could make sense of what had happened, something thick and black and foul-smelling was thrown over her head. She breathed in to yell as her fist struck out, catching the culprit on a bony bit of his or her body, but as the air traveled down her throat to settle into her lungs, panic burst like a balloon inside her. Whatever she was breathing in was slowly stealing her consciousness—her ability to move. She felt her arms turn to lead, felt her eyelids close before her mind shut off and she felt the cold cemetery grass against her back.

W
hile it had been a foul stench that had put her to sleep, it was an altogether different odor that slowly brought Kyana out of the comatose state that had overtaken her in the cemetery. One of rotting flesh and dirt.

The fog in her brain slowly lifted, but as her body was flung belly down over a hard, bony shoulder, her silent command to her legs to kick out wasn't obeyed. She felt as though she'd been dipped in concrete, her limbs heavy and stiff. Her mind raced, desperate to find the goddess inside who could stop this. Deep breaths. In and out. In and out as she tried to focus her mind and energies.

The person carrying her had an uneven gait, causing his shoulder to dig into her ribs and squeeze the air from her lungs. Even thinking became difficult. She tried to scream. Her tongue was too thick to do more than make a guttural groan. She was useless. She was vulnerable.

She was in deep shit.

A heavy amount of jostling rattled her bones, a sharp tug yanked at her hair. In the next instant, she was blinded by lamplight. When she saw the face staring down at her, she prayed for the blindfold again.

Bile rose in her throat, burning her nose and making her eyes water.

No longer the gloriously beautiful man she'd once thought him to be, her husband still had the same piercing black stare that had haunted her dreams for centuries. Though Prince Mehmet's face was gaunt and near yellow, his cheeks sunken and nose half missing, he was still as recognizable to her now as he'd been then. Still as monstrous.

“He raised you,” she hissed, pleased that her tongue was back under her control. She tested her hands and feet and found them still dead to her. Cronos had done this. The small glimpse she'd seen of Mehmet in Haven's dream had been
real
. The bastard had gone out of his way to make this war even more personal, and murderous rage threatened to suffocate her.

Mehmet smiled and stepped aside so his partner could move into Kyana's view. Azime, his first wife and Kyana's past life tormentor.

This had to be a nightmare. Mehmet and Azime couldn't really be standing in front of her in this, this . . . where the hell were they? Kyana shifted her gaze, searching for escape. Brick walls surrounded her on all sides. One window directly to the left of her chair and a door to her right. If she could just make her legs move, she could—

Azime's cold hand slapped Kyana across the cheek so hard her eyes watered and her head jerked violently to the side. She wasn't given a second to breathe before Azime grabbed a handful of her hair and forced her head back with such brutality, she thought her neck bones might snap.

“Yooooou,” Azime whispered, her breath hot and as putrid as the rest of her body, “bitch!”

She slapped Kyana again, then stepped back and flung her hands in front of her. “You see what you've done? Look at me!”

This time, Kyana was ready for Azime's fist. She stiffened her back, pressing her body against the chair. Braced, the impact barely moved her head at all. She stared up at Azime, focusing all her hatred on the living corpse, wishing she could project some piece of the goddess within her out and into the creature's heart.

Once so beautiful as the Haseki Sultan, it had been hard to stare too long at Azime—her beauty nearly blinding. Now her outside was as filthy and rotted as her insides had always been. The stunning Mediterranean coloring had a greenish tint, her long, silky black hair matted and streaked with dusty gray. She looked so brittle, Kyana was surprised her hand hadn't shattered upon impact with Kyana's face.

She was the devil's handmaiden. Just as she'd been in life.

“What
are
you?” she asked, revolted by the sight of the gaping hole in Mehmet's cheek as he turned to look at his wife.

“More powerful in death than even in life,” Mehmet said. He leaned down and kissed the wife who'd beaten Kyana when she'd pleased their husband, and had nearly killed Kyana when she'd angered him.

Kyana caught a glimpse of blackened tongues stretching out from blacker mouths to touch one another and her gagging resumed. This time, she couldn't control it. She vomited, the bile splashing onto Mehmet's filthy robe.

Well, there was a little satisfaction at least.

Mehmet jerked away from his wife and backhanded Kyana, sending her chair toppling over. He pulled a wand from the sleeve of his robe. “
Temizlemek!
”

With his words, the vomit disappeared and understanding dawned on Kyana. Mages. They'd been risen as Mages and Cronos had made certain they'd become Dark.

“Did you think that killing us would keep us from your life?” He tucked the wand back into his sleeve and smiled. “He is raising only those he knows aren't opposed to violence. He raised
us
because he knew we'd take great pleasure in being the ones to deliver unto him
bas¸in
.”

Your head.

Kyana flinched and tried to back away as he stepped even closer to right her chair.

“
Seni sik
,” she breathed, surprised at how easily the language of her human years came back to her.

“Tsk tsk.” Azime pulled a similar wand from her robe and held it in a hand that was missing its middle finger. “Such language for a wife of a prince. A pity to see all these years haven't tamed your wild ways.”

Wild ways? When they'd known Kyana, she'd been docile and obedient and spineless. “Release me, and I'll let you see for yourself how much your little whipping post has grown up.”

“Mm.” Azime's smile revealed yellow teeth, and her black tongue flicked out to wet her dark, flaky mouth. “You killed us once. I knew it was a mistake to bring that bastard into our home. He changed you and you bit the very hands that kept you fed, you ungrateful
hayvan
.”

“Ah, she is no beast my love,” Mehmet said. “Merely an irrelevant pest I mean to squash.”

He slid his fingers down the shoulder of Kyana's vest and pressed his nail to the seam, ripping the fabric in two.

“If I'm so irrelevant, why would Cronos bother raising you two just to come after a fucking mosquito?” The leather material slid into her lap, leaving her breasts bare and her skin icy. Kyana let her anger burrow into her marrow, warding off the fear that threatened to break her. “There's a reason Cronos wants me out of the way.”

She watched him smile, watched Azime sneer. Kyana's whole body trembled, but try as she might, she couldn't lift a hand to cover herself. While nudity hadn't been an issue in years, suddenly, she was a young girl preparing to be violated by the man she'd married all over again.

“Still so supple and young. I am almost pleased Henry betrayed my trust and made you his that night, for it kept you ripe and blooming for me today.”

He hunched over, dropping to his knees. Then the sickly sensation of heat on her breast, followed by sticky moisture, made Kyana scream out. He was suckling her, groping her like a sixteen-year-old virgin, his hands clumsy, his mouth too eager.

Kyana retched. Fought to pull away and cried out when she couldn't.

She looked to Azime, praying the woman would be disturbed to see her husband so blatantly fondling another woman, but the bitch looked pleased. Her fingers dropped to cup her own breasts and her hips swayed back and forth in a mockery of love play.

“You're fucking insane!” Kyana screamed.

Mehmet's teeth pulled violently on Kyana's nipple as he moved to his feet, taking the tattered remains of the vest with him, leaving her exposed and scared out of her mind. She'd have rather opened her eyes to see Cronos than these two. No Dark Breed ever created had the ability to shake the core of Kyana's foundation as Mehmet and Azime.

“If you plan on killing me, get it over with,” she whispered.

“Not yet,
hanim
.”

“I am
not
your wife.”

“Ah, but you are and always will be. Immortality tends to bind marriage vows when till-death-do-you-part no longer matters.” He pointed his wand at her again, this time speaking some word that ripped her pants directly from her body in shredded ribbons onto the floor.

A look passed from Azime to Mehmet that fed Kyana hope. The old woman was getting irritated now. Apparently, fondling Kyana wasn't as big a deal as Mehmet thinking of Kyana as his wife after all these years. Azime had loved being the Haseki Sultan, had loved being number one over Mehmet's other wives. But she'd loathed sharing his titles and gold with the other girls.

The bed, sure. The power? Never.

Kyana focused on Azime, whose black and gray hair was tumbling from her ancient, broken combs to settle about her emaciated shoulders like a death shroud.

“You don't want me in his life again, Azime. Why are you helping him?”

“You won't be in his life again, whore. You'll be dead as soon as—”

“Don't spoil the surprise. He'll be here soon enough.”

Cronos? Were they really waiting on Cronos?

The knots entangling Kyana's guts gave a painful twist. If Cronos showed up here, fully in power or not, she was as good as dead. Whatever spell they'd used to bind her had made her so useless, she didn't stand a chance.

“Cronos doesn't scare me,” she bluffed, snatching Mehmet's gaze with hers and pinning it in place by sheer will. “I'm surprised you let him control you. The husband I remember never obeyed anyone, and now you're nothing more than a scion for a god you never prayed to.”

Mehmet simply grinned and leaned toward her, his rotting mouth brushing her ear. “I'm not obeying anyone, pet. This little reunion was my idea.”

He stepped back and pulled Azime into his arms. “Death does not stop the wish for revenge. Nor does it hinder the mind from planning just how your demise will be played out.”

Azime's grin pulled her decaying flesh tight and caused the cartilage in her nose to shift at a grotesque angle. She pulled out her wand and waved it before Kyana. “
Yer deg˘is¸tir
.”

Before Kyana's brain could translate the words, she found herself supine on a pile of musty blankets. She struggled to stand, to roll over, to shield herself from the hate-filled stares weighing her down. Her bare ass was cold despite the sweat breaking out all over her body.

“Oh, where is the
hayvan
now?” Azime gripped Kyana's chin, tilted her head back.

Like the rest of her body, she suddenly had no control over her eyelids and she found herself staring once again at the pair. They wore matching evil leers as they glared at her with black eyes.

Azime reached around her husband and unfastened his cloak, letting it fall to the floor. “After much debate, we agreed that you should leave this world as you were meant to over two hundred years ago. This time when you're left bleeding and broken, there will be no one to save you. This time when the demons come to claim your soul, it will be the savior of your past leading the way.”

Kyana didn't need them to fill in the gaps. She would be beaten, raped, and tortured, just as she'd been the night Henry had turned her. And when they tired of the game and left her bleeding in a corner, no one would care. There was no one to save her, and for once in her new life, she was unable to save herself.

She always thought that when it was time to face her final death she'd do so on her feet fighting. Not once had she dreamed that the evil killing her would be the very two people who'd destroyed her life the first time.

A long, slow creaking caused chills to slither over her naked shin. Somehow she managed to find the will to fight Mehmet's command and squeeze her eyes tightly closed. If she would have an audience when she died, she certainly didn't want to see in their eyes that her violation had entertained them.