Shield of Fire (A Bringer and the Bane Novel) (30 page)

“She’s really angry,” Luc said. “Go after her.”

Rhys shook his head and peeled his gaze away from the now-empty stairwell and looked at the two men. “No. It needs to be this way.”

Chapter Twenty-four

After changing into her leathers, Ravyn found refuge on the second floor above the Great Hall. A dark alcove fashioned into the wall was a perfect spot to wallow in self-pity. She didn’t know how long she sat curled up on the stone bench, railing about Rhys and contemplating her future. But as the shadows of the pillars grew long and the walkway darkened, her anger began to fade.

Irritated by her own weakness, she struggled to come to terms with her displeasure. She’d spent over two decades living in a place where she rarely received a kind word, and she’d been fine. Strong, as a matter-of-fact. But the second Rhys said an unkind word, she fell apart. Some soldier she turned out to be.

Unrequited love hurt too much. He’d destroyed the walls she’d built around her heart and ruined her. Not because he’d taken her virginity. She’d given that freely. But because she now knew she wanted love and to be loved. And after a few hours of silent misery, she realized it wasn’t just love she wanted, but
his
love.

Voices from the Great Hall rose above the walkway and pulled Ravyn from her depression. She stood. Her back and hips ached from sitting on the cold stone for so long. She stretched and shook the feeling back into her legs. With an uneven gait, she limped to the railing and peered down into the hall.

A sea of gray swirled around a group of white-robed people. Ravyn recognized them immediately as The Order’s superiors. She took a step back, her heart galloping, threatening to tear away from her chest. Why were they here? Surely not for her. Possibilities raced through her mind but nothing made sense.

She scanned the crowd for Rhys or Luc but didn’t see them. They had to leave—tonight. A chill skittered through her and she rubbed her arms, trying to chase away the unease. She inched forward and leaned over the rail.

A black-robed figure amongst the sea of gray drew her attention. The hint of biting tapped against her arm.
No, it couldn’t be.
Before she could step back, the figure turned and stared up.

Bile rose, and his name hissed from her lips, pushed from her body by shock. “Powell.”

The monk stripped away whatever sense of security she’d had. He was here. Powell placed a hand on the shoulder of one of The Order’s Superiors and whispered in his ear. The figure nodded but made no further move.

Ravyn backed away from the rail and flattened her body against the cold marble. She had to find Rhys. Her mind raged with questions, demanding to know why Powell had come. But Ravyn knew why. He’d come for her.

Movement across the walkway drew her attention. She ducked into the alcove, frightened. Had Powell brought other minions? Panic made it difficult to breathe.

A man appeared in the walkway directly across from her. Sir Gregory James. What was he doing up here? He ignored the crowd below, his attention focused on somebody she couldn’t see.

Ravyn ducked behind a pillar and waited. A woman glided out of the shadows and Ravyn leaned forward, trying to get a better view. Her gaze narrowed as the woman stopped in front of Sir James. Were these two in league with Powell? She’d been so close to Lord James this morning. Surely she would have felt some disturbance from him. Or maybe not. He’d fed her his name. Maybe he was able to keep things locked behind his impenetrable wall, including his association with the Bane.

The woman turned in her direction and Ravyn’s breath caught.

Long black hair plaited in a braid just like her own hung down the woman’s back. She was the same build and height as Ravyn, and she wore pants, not exactly like Ravyn’s leathers, but similar. Staring at her was like looking at a mirror. The woman’s gaze turned in her direction and Ravyn gasped. Pale eyes reflected in the dim afternoon light. Though Ravyn couldn’t distinguish their color, she’d bet her life they were pale blue—like hers.

Sir Gregory’s head snapped toward Ravyn and pinned her with his stare. She couldn’t move, overwhelmed but not quite knowing what she had seen. The woman melted into the shadows, and after a second, he followed and disappeared.

She raced after them, needing to know who the woman was. A sense of the familiar drove her forward as she hurtled down the staircase. She stopped and scanned the crowd for Powell’s black robe, but only gray ebbed around her. Seeing Sir Gregory’s head towering above most of the throng, Ravyn barreled into the Bringers and pushed against the flow, trying to keep up. She made her way out of the crush and into the open courtyard. The echo of running footsteps spurred her on as she careened down the walkway and around the corner of the building. The tingle of biting subsided as she raced away from the Great Hall.

Hooves thundered as the mystery woman kicked her horse and raced away from Sir James, down the trail of Illuma Grand. Ravyn bent and braced her hands on her knees. She wanted to yell, wanted to shout for the woman to stop, but her heart pounded and her chest burned.

“Damn.” She was too late. She straightened and walked over to Sir James. They both stared down the now-empty lane. “Who is she?”

The question hung in the air. Gregory peered at her for a few seconds, making Ravyn think he wouldn’t reply. “All in good time, Lady Mayfield.”

Without another word, he walked away, leaving her alone on the front steps of Illuma Grand. She contemplated finding a horse and chasing after the woman, but knew her effort would be wasted. She was gone.

Her powers flared, shaking her to the core. She stumbled and lurched forward, grabbing a stone balustrade. Fire raced up her spine and down her arms as she fought the urge to vomit. An arm wrapped around her neck and wrenched her backward. Her feet dangled a step below her attacker. She clawed at the arm around her neck, scrambling for a foothold. The sensation of falling unbalanced her as she struggled to breathe. Blackness crept in at the edges of her vision like dense smoke. Screams couldn’t push past the arm crushing her neck.

She latched onto the arm choking her and released her heat. The fire raced along her arms and into her hands, willing her attacker to burn.

“Not this time, girl.”

The words whispered in her ear as a damp cloth covered her mouth and nose, filling her lungs with a sickly sweet odor. A single name screamed through her mind an instant before she slid into unconsciousness.

Powell.

Chapter Twenty-five

Powell laid Ravyn’s limp form at the edge of the clearing and stepped away from her as if offering food to a deadly predator. He pushed his hair out of his eyes and searched the surrounding woods. “Icarus.”

“I’m here, Brother.” Icarus stepped from the shadows. He circled Powell and came to a stop in front of him. Only inches away, Icarus smelled his fear, tasted his desire to please. “You’ve done well. You’ll be greatly rewarded for your service.”

The words rushed out. “Thank you, Icarus.”

Euphoria and anticipation of what Icarus’s praise would bring shone in the monk’s eyes. He’d seen it a hundred times—the promise of power, the taste of glory. Powell postured at being stronger than other minions, but he was just a puppet, an addict to the Bane’s essence. The good Brother hadn’t disappointed tonight, and, for that, Icarus would give him his fix—but not with Ravyn. He wouldn’t share the Ritual of Taking with a greedy minion who watched and panted for his prize.

Icarus glanced at her unconscious body. No, tonight he’d join with the Bringer in private. He moved toward her and crouched, then glided a talon over her cheek to brush a wayward curl from her face. Tonight would be for him.

His talon lingered over her skin. Forbidden tenderness rolled over him as he laid his hand flat against her cheek. So much softness and power contained in such a beautiful package. His fingers slipped to her neck. Her pulse beat strong and steady.

A familiar and unwelcome voice wafted out of the darkness. “Isn’t this a touching scene?”

Slowly rising, Icarus turned and faced Sha-hera. She leaned against a tree, her arms crossed, lifting her ample breasts nearly out of their sheer covering.

“I thought I told you to stay out of my business, whore,” Icarus said.

“Yes, I remember you saying something like that.” She pushed away from the tree and sauntered into the clearing. “You didn’t really think I’d heed your warning—” She stopped in front of Powell and looked at Icarus. “Did you?”

“Actually, I did. Stupid of me to think you were smarter than that.”

Sha-hera replied with a throaty laugh. She looked back at the monk and cocked her head. “So this is one of your pets?”

Powell swallowed heavily and took a step backward. His gaze cut to Icarus and back to the female demon.

“Icarus, haven’t you ever explained to your minions the dangers of leaving holy ground?”

Powell sent a pleading look to Icarus. She paced in front of him. He really should help the monk, if for no other reason than to best Sha-hera at her own game. But showing any type of favoritism would only provoke her. Though he hated to admit it, he’d been overzealous in acquiring the Bringer and hadn’t given his minion’s safety much thought. Not that he normally would, it’s just that Powell had become very useful and well-placed within The Order. He had bigger plans for the monk, and losing him would mean starting over.

“Sha-hera,” Icarus said, lacing his words with boredom and menace. “What are you doing here?”

She dragged her talons none too gently across Powell’s neck as she circled him. He whimpered and flinched away from her touch.

“Your father sent me.” She stopped and wrapped an arm around the monk, drumming her talons on his upper arm. “He didn’t trust you to bring him the woman.”

Icarus sneered. “You lie.”

“Do I?” She sauntered toward him. Powell inched toward the trees. “Do you actually believe your father doesn’t know of your hunger for the throne?”

“Ironic coming from you. A viperous snake, waiting to strike,” he retorted.

She laughed and walked toward Ravyn’s body. Icarus stepped in front of her and bared his fangs, warning her off. She stopped and her laughter died.

“He knows, but as he cannot destroy me without an immortal weapon, he chooses to keep me close.” She crouched and surveyed Ravyn. “He understands me because we are the same.” Standing, she pinned him with her yellow stare. “Unlike you.”

Icarus narrowed his gaze, wondering at her tactics. “He understands me. I am his son.”

She shook her head. “You’re wrong. Vile neither trusts nor understands you and do you know why?” A smile of genuine pleasure crept across her full lips. “I do.”

He held her gaze, wondering if she knew of Vile’s plans to open The Abyss of Souls. Uneasiness sifted through him. There was something more in her smile, some knowledge she held that he didn’t. “Enlighten me.”

Sha-hera’s head snapped to the right as Powell ran for the trees, obviously realizing his poor judgment of being in the presence of two demons off sanctified ground. Her shrill laughter filled the clearing as she pounced; taking the monk down before he’d reached the tree line.

“Going somewhere, Brother?”

“Please, I’ll do anything.” The words stuttered in rapid promises. “I can help. I know people.” His promises melted into sobbing. “Please don’t kill me.”

She clutched the front of his robe and lifted Powell to a stand, bringing his face an inch from hers. Despite his struggles, he was no match for Sha-hera’s strength.

Icarus stepped toward her. He knew the look in her eye. A hunter on its prey. “Do not anger me further by killing my minion, Sha-hera.”

She ignored him and sniffed Powell. The monk cried out as she ran her tongue up the side of his cheek. “You taste like sin, Brother.”

Prayers tumbled from his lips and he squeezed his eyes shut.

Icarus growled, not wanting to lose his servant but unwilling to leave Ravyn. That would be the opening Sha-hera wanted. One wrong step to swoop in and steal his prize. “Release him.”

Her head twisted toward him with an unnatural bend. He stilled himself against her horrific stare.

“Come and get him,” she hissed.

Icarus didn’t move.

“Icarus, please.” The man’s begging stirred a twinge of protectiveness inside him, but he didn’t allow himself to respond. She dropped the monk. He fell to his knees and folded his hands. Like a drowning man, he reached again for the only lifeboat he’d ever known, and began to pray.

Sha-hera laughed again. “It’s a little late to make amends, Brother.”

The demon grabbed Powell’s hair and yanked his head forward to expose the back of his neck. With a lightning quick move, she rammed a talon into the base of the monk’s skull and severed his spinal cord. His eyes went wide, his mouth open in a soundless scream. She held Powell by the hair, keeping him upright as she glared at Icarus and slowly spun her talon inside the monk’s head. Her hook scraped from his skull as she pulled her talon free and smiled. A generous set of fangs glimmered in the moonlight seconds before she slid the brain-coated claw into her mouth and sucked.

“Mmmm, I must say, Icarus, you have good taste in friends.” She let Powell’s body drop to the ground.

Icarus seethed. The bitch didn’t know when to mind her own business. He stilled himself against his rage. She wanted him angry and unbalanced. “Are you quite finished?”

“Not quite.” She prowled toward him. “I’ll take the Bringer, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, but I do mind.” He snarled and crouched. “If you want her, come and get her.”

Sha-hera mirrored his fighting stance and bared her fangs. “I’m going to enjoy this,” she purred.

“Not nearly as much as I am.”

She sprang as Icarus launched toward her. The two demons collided in midair, wings flaring and talons clashing. She slashed at his throat, but Icarus dodged her deadly attack. He twisted her arm behind her back and as he landed, Icarus spun and released her. Sha-hera soared across the clearing and slammed into a tree. The trunk exploded in a spray of splinters and split down the center. She slid to the ground and rolled, coming to her feet.

“You will never rule the Bane.” She crouched again. “You are Vile’s private joke.” She launched herself at him again.

Icarus met her attack, keeping himself between Ravyn and the she-demon and ignoring the sting of uncertainty her words caused. Razor-sharp fangs sank into his shoulder as she speared him in the sides with her long talons. Pain tore through his torso as Sha-hera punctured flesh and bone, ripping and tearing at the muscle around his ribs. He grabbed her by the horns and dragged her head back to pull her fangs free.

“You are a Bane whore and nothing more,” he said into her face. She snapped, trying to sink her incisors into him. “The only worth you have to the king is when you spread your legs.”

Rage rolled off her and she screamed, pushing her talons deeper, burrowing farther into his body.

“And you are nothing but a lost soul. An idiot dangling at the end of the Demon King’s strings.”

Fire burned as she stripped the flesh from his bones. Still gripping her horns, he pressed her to the ground. Sha-hera braced her legs against their descent, but Icarus used his weight to tip forward and knocked her offbalance. They went down, even though Sha-hera’s talons remained buried. She flared her wings and extended their tips in an effort to impale him, but Icarus levered his knee against her neck and crushed her to the ground.

The she-demon kicked and flopped under the weight of his body, choking as he applied pressure to her throat. Icarus pressed his other knee against her stomach and pinned Sha-hera under him. He seized her wrists and pulled away, extracting her talons from his body. The succubus bucked, trying to unseat him, but Icarus had the advantage of weight and position.

“I am the son of a king,” he gritted out.

She stopped struggling and began to laugh. The sound rubbed against him like sand against his skin. He yanked Sha-hera off the ground and threw her into the air. Before she had time to recover, he pelted her with spinning balls of energy. Tiny bolts of lightning consumed her body as she hung frozen in midair, jerking. Icarus settled on his haunches, crouched for another attack. Her piercing cry made him smile. He catapulted into the air, digging his talons into her neck, and ripped out her throat.

A sickening, sucking noise gurgled from her mouth as she clutched at her neck. With another spin, Icarus blasted her with energy. For the second time in as many days, Sha-hera exploded into a million glowing bits. The embers swirled and twisted, picking up speed. Icarus hauled Ravyn into his arms and braced himself against a tree. Within seconds, the glowing vortex plunged into the earth and disappeared.

He’d defeated Sha-hera, but if what she said was true, his father would be expecting betrayal from him. Sha-hera’s words echoed through his mind. More than likely she’d been baiting him, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she knew more.

As the sands of time ran out, his plan crumbled with it. He bit back a curse. It looked like he’d have to crawl into bed with the enemy. With Ravyn cradled in his arms, he launched himself into the sky.