Tales From Otherworld: Collection One (3 page)

As the sound echoed again, this time from the common room, Rozurial slid from beneath the comforter, softly edging toward his duster which he kept near the bed. Everyone joked about his arsenal, but he knew they appreciated the weaponry when the shit hit the fan. And truth was, he only felt comfortable when he was armed to the teeth. He’d been a mercenary and bounty hunter far too long to ever feel comfortable unarmed.

A moment later, he slid into the duster, covering his boxers, and tiptoed toward the door. All the time, the noise continued, the low fall of steps, pacing evenly, never varying.

It could be Vanzir, or Shamas, of course, but in his heart he knew it wasn’t. There was something out there, all right. Someone—
or some thing
. With all they had been facing lately, with all the ghosts they’d fought, Roz wouldn’t have been surprised to find one hitching a ride home.

He leaned against the wall next to the door, his hand on the handle. Then, taking a deep breath, he yanked it open, leaping out into the living room, long dagger ready.
 

There, pacing the floor, was Hanna, and the front door of the studio was wide open. The woman was from the Northlands, she was sturdy and strong, pretty in a plain way, with the clearest eyes he’d ever seen. But right now, she appeared unaware of him, her face a mask of fear. Roz lowered his blade, then slipped off his duster. She was sleepwalking, so he took care to be as silent as he could as he padded softly to her side.

Hanna didn’t wake. She paced blindly, murmuring something beneath her breath. After a moment, Roz was able to make out what she was saying.

“Kjell, can you forgive me? Please, forgive me, my son. Please, understand why I did what I did.” Her voice cracked, full of tears, but the look on her face said it all: strained and lost, in search of something to quell her guilt.

Rozurial knew what had happened. Camille had told them, once she was capable of talking about her ordeal. She’d told them how Hanna had helped her escape Hyto’s evil lair. How Hanna had tended to her wounds, had helped Camille cope with the aftermath in the wake of the torture sessions the crazed dragon had put her through. And finally, Camille had told them how Hanna had saved her own son by ending his life. There had been no other choice, but everybody knew she carried the stone of that memory around her neck.

And now, apparently, guilt and regret were driving Hanna out of her bed, into a waking dream.

Roz encircled her shoulders with his arm, and led her into his room. She quieted at his touch, and as he tucked her into his bed, she let out a soft sigh and fell into a deep sleep.
 

That night, Rozurial sat by her side, holding her hand as she slept. He could feel her need. She was lonely. She’d lost her husband, her children, and her home. She’d followed her conscience and it landed her in an alien land, far from where she started. As he reached out to brush a stray hair from her forehead, it occurred to him that they had a great deal in common. They had both lost everything and everyone they loved, and both of them carried memories of the torture and death of their families.

At that moment, Hanna opened her eyes and pulled back, startled. But as her gaze fell on his, Roz leaned down to gently press his lips to hers. Hanna hesitated a moment, then she opened her arms, and welcomed him in.

A CRACKLE OF FLAMES

This scene—from Delilah’s point of view—takes place shortly before Autumn Whispers…

Shade had kindled the bonfire in the fire pit and now we sat around the flames, watching them crackle and pop as they spit their way up the wood. The night was cool and leaves were deserting the trees, caught up in the whirl of the wind. It was clear for once, and stars littered the sky overhead, sparkling in the chill of the mid-October evening.

I fiddled with the ring on my finger, the smoky quartz hadn’t come off since I’d first accepted it and now it was like a part of me—it was a part of my nature and bound me to Shade in ways I still didn’t understand.

He handed me a stick and the bag of marshmallows, and I impaled four of them, then held the candy over the flames, catching the sugar alight. I watched the marshmallows char and bubble up, and then pulled my bounty back, blowing out the flames. I always bit into them too fast, always ended up burning my mouth, and this time I told myself I’d wait. But the scent was too tempting and, once again, I had a mouthful of molten sugar and fanned my tongue.

Shade laughed. “You never learn, do you, Delilah?” But his eyes were warm and I knew he was teasing me. He seldom called me sweetie, or love, or honey—almost always my name, though he did call me Kitten like the others. Or when he was in the mood for sex, he’d call me Pussycat.

I shrugged. “What can I say? I like to live dangerously.” I took another bite, but the candy had cooled enough and this time, I happily finished it off.
 

We were down by Birchwater Pond, where we’d installed picnic tables and the fire pit and a covered shelter. Tonight, Shade and I had felt the need for some privacy, other than in our rooms, so we’d decided to spend the evening here, under the shadow of the night.
 

This was our time. Autumn, the season of our master, The Autumn Lord. Hi’ran was strong with us tonight, looming like a great shadow of fire and smoke. I could feel him in the trees, in the flames, in the very air with its chill tang that bit into the skin ever so slightly.

“He’s here.” I glanced at Shade.
 

“I know. He’s watching us. He’s watching the world. There’s something afoot and the Harvestmen are alert.”

“Samhain is coming—perhaps that has something to do with it?” The season of death was upon us, the season of the Witch, the season of the cauldron. Camille’s season, with her death magic. Menolly’s season—the time of the vampire. And now…now that I was
 
a Death Maiden, my season, too. We lived in a world of darkness and flame, but it was comforting as well as melancholy.

Shade closed his eyes, leaning back to listen to the wind. After a few minutes he shook his head. “This is not in the natural order of things. I sense something approaching.” He scooted closer to me and draped his arm around my shoulders. His skin, the color of a strong latte, blended into the night, and his honey-amber hair gleamed under the pale starlight.
 

I reached out, placed my lips against his, and gently kissed him. Then, he was holding me close, pulling me into his embrace, his mouth fastened against mine. I slid off the bench onto the ground, pulling him down with me, and there, against the wet grass, in the light of the flames, I pulled off my jacket and shirt, as he tugged against the snaps on my jeans.
 

Struggling out of them, I slid astride him. He had shoved his jeans down, and now his cock was erect. I lowered myself onto him, hungry. I needed his touch, needed his thrust. I moaned as he took hold of my waist, guiding me as I rode him in the dark of the night. And then, Hi’ran was there, with us, staring up at me from Shade’s eyes.
 

I could feel my master, feel him through my lover, and the swell of his energy rose up to embrace me like a warm shroud, encasing me in the shadows of death and repose, that solemn embrace that welcomes everyone at the end of their life. I cried out as Shade’s fingers raced over my body—burning brightly. The sparks set off my desire, and I cried out, wanting it harder, faster, deeper.
 

Hi’ran laughed, his voice echoing through Shade’s, and I answered the call—riding him now, my wild dragon, my shadow walker who had come through worlds to walk by my side. I loved him, fiercely, like the predator I was.
 

Panther snarled, reveling in our passion, and as I came close to the edge, Shade rolled me over, thrusting deeply from behind, driving himself home into my pussy as his balls thudded against my ass. And then, a wild shriek pierced the night and I realized the shriek had come from me—my voice echoing as it hung in the air before the wind snatched it away. I let go as Shade gave one final thrust, and we were swept up into the night, fueled by the fires of Hi’ran.
 

As the ripples of orgasm slowly left my body, a stark fear hit me. Something was headed our way, and this might be the last time we’d be able to let go of control before we had to face the oncoming danger.

DREAMING DEATH

Another short scene taking place shortly before Autumn Whispers, between Delilah and her sister Arial…
 

I knew I was wandering in my dreams. The more I trained at Haseofon, the more I seemed to blur the lines between dreaming and waking during the sleep state. Greta hadn’t summoned me, for once, but still, there stood the temple—huge and beautiful and stately. I looked up at it with pride in my heart. I’d come to love my calling, to take pride in the fact that I was the Autumn Lord’s only living Death Maiden.
 

Slowly climbing the steps, I examined my feelings. A knot of dread filled the pit of my stomach. I knew I hadn’t made any mistakes, but there was something wrong—I could feel it to my core. I prayed it wasn’t anything I’d have to get embroiled in—my sisters and I had enough on our plates right now.

As I entered the temple, everything seemed normal. Maybe the stress of life had been getting to me. Maybe it was really just my imagination. The other Death Maidens seemed to be going about their normal business—training, talking, reading, making music…everything looked perfectly fine on the surface.
 

A noise to my right startled me. I turned to find Arial standing there.
 

My twin sister who had died at birth, Arial looked like me except that her hair was waist length and sable brown, and when she was in her Were form, she was a leopard. Only here in Haseofon, the temple of the Death Maidens, could she appear in her two-legged form. Whenever she left, she had to wander the realms as a spirit leopard.

But now, she threw her arms around my neck. “Sister! I hoped you would come. I need to talk to you.”
 

While she was smiling, her brow crinkled with worry, and her voice was guarded. She pulled me back into the private chamber in which she made her home. It was done up in rich browns and rusts, in aubergine and sage. The bed was huge and I sank into the mattress, wanting nothing more than to turn into my Tabby self and go to sleep.

But Arial joined me on the bed, cross-legged, leaning forward. “I’ve had a dream. A bad one. I need to tell you about it.”

I frowned. “A nightmare? What was it?” It seemed odd—sitting here with my dead sister discussing bad dreams, but let’s face it. My world was made of odd and not likely to calm down any time soon.

She played with the hem of her gown. Arial liked to dress in floaty gauze skirts and peasant blouses. She wore flowers in her hair, too. She would have made the perfect Bohemian back Earthside, even though she would have been a few decades out of date.

“I dreamed of fire and smoke. Of buildings crashing to the ground. I dreamed of people screaming, trying to escape the lightning. I dreamed a powerful death. And another, and yet another. And ten thousand more atop that.” Arial looked over at me, but I had the feeling she wasn’t seeing me. Instead, she was looking through me, into a vision where I could not follow her.

“Do you know where? When? Who?” My voice was a whisper.
 

I knew better than ignore her warnings. Nobody in Haseofon dreamed just for fun. Whether visions of the future or from the past, all of the Death Maidens who lived here dreamed of realities spinning out on the web. Or of events that had a good chance of coming to pass. Because she lived with them, my sister dreamed the same way.

She paused, as if listening to a voice inside her head, then frowned.
 

“The spirits won’t tell me. But be careful. You and Camille and Menolly. Death is coming, and not with easy grace. Death is coming in on the wings of flame and storm and fury. And you will be in the thick of it. Walk softly, sister. I do not want to see any of you cross the veil.” Pausing, Arial seemed to be deciding whether or not to say something else, but then she just smiled softly. “That is all I’m allowed to say.”

Burning with curiosity, I wanted to ask her more, but I knew it would be useless. So we talked of other things, and finally, late into the night I kissed her and prepared to return to my body.
 

As I left her door she called softly, “You won’t remember this, when you wake. But…some part of you will be aware, and your reactions will be swifter than they might. Maybe it will help you through the coming days.”
 

I nodded, hoping she was wrong, though those living in the temple never were. As I hurried home to my body, a raven caught my attention. It screamed loud and long, and I could feel the storm on the horizon. And it was heading directly for us.

SURPRISES

This takes place about a month before Autumn Whispers, one year after Trillian and Camille’s wedding…

“You what?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Trillian could
not
have said what I thought he just said. But he smiled at me, in that cunning way he had and I knew I’d heard right.

“I’m crossing over to Otherworld for a few days. I leave right now.” He slipped his backpack over his shoulder and gave me a horribly perfunctory kiss, then dodged out the back door before I could say another word.

My temper at a low boil, I clenched my fists and whirled around as Kitten tapped me on the shoulder.
 

“You okay?”
 

My expression must have screamed
No, I’m NOT okay
because she grimaced and took a step back, holding up her hands. “Whatever it was, I didn’t do it!”

I exhaled slowly, trying to calm down. “I know, I know. I’m just furious at Trillian right now.”
 

I wanted to kick something, or maybe throw something like his new Waterford clock he’d bought that I didn’t really even like. But throwing things? So not my style.