She smiled silkily. “Not according to the High Council.” She met his eyes. “This is what is going to happen. I need you to regain your strength quickly. By dusk tomorrow I will have to report to the High Council that your soul has returned to your body, and that you confessed to me you killed the human boy because you thought his hatred for me a threat. I will tell them because you believed you were protecting me, I was merciful in your punishment. I only had you flogged one hundred strokes and then banished you from my side for one century.”
Kalona struggled to sit. Neferet was pleased to see anger flash in his amber eyes.
“You expect to be bereft of my touch for a century?”
“Of course not. I will graciously allow you to return to my side after your wounds have healed. Until then I will still have your touch; it will simply be away from the prying eyes of the public.”
His brow lifted. She thought how arrogant he looked, even weakened and defeated.
“How long do you expect me to skulk in the shadows, pretending to heal from nonexistent wounds?”
“I expect you to be absent from my side until your wounds do heal.” With a quick, precise movement, Neferet brought her wrist to her lips and bit deeply, instantly drawing a circle of blood. Then she began to make a swirling motion with her uplifted arm, sifting through the air while sticky threads of Darkness slithered greedily around her wrist, attaching to the blood like leeches. She ground her teeth together, forcing herself to remain unflinching, even when the sharpness of the tentacles stabbed her over and over. When they seemed bloated enough, Neferet spoke softly, lovingly to them. “You’ve taken your payment. Now you must do my bidding.” She looked from the throbbing strands of Darkness to her immortal lover. “Lash him deeply. One hundred times.” Neferet hurled Darkness at Kalona.
The weakened immortal only had time to unfurl his wings and begin to vault for the edge of the castle’s roof. The razor threads caught him midstride. They wrapped around his wings at the sensitive base where they met his spine. Instead of leaping from the rooftop he was trapped, pinned against the ancient stone of the balustrade while Darkness began to slowly, methodically, slice furrows into his naked back.
Neferet watched only until his proud, handsome head sagged in defeat and his body jerked convulsively with every cutting stroke.
“Do not mar him permanently. I plan to enjoy the beauty of his skin again,” she said before turning her back on Kalona and walking purposefully from the blood-soaked rooftop.
“It seems I must do everything myself, and there is so much to do … so much to do…,” she whispered to the Darkness that flitted about her ankles.
From the shadows within shadows Neferet thought she caught the outline of a massive bull watching her with approval and pleasure.
Neferet smiled.
CHAPTER THREE
Zoey
For the zillionth time I thought about what an amazing place Sgiach’s throne room was. She was an ancient vampyre queen, the Great Taker of Heads, uber-powerful and surrounded by her own personal Warriors known as Guardians. Hell, way back in the day she’d even taken on the Vampyre High Council and won, but her castle wasn’t a nasty-outdoor-plumbing-medieval-version-of-camping (gross). Sgiach’s castle was a fortress, but it was—as they say over here in Scotland—a posh castle. I swear the view from any of the sea-facing windows, but especially her throne room, is so incredible that it looks like it should be on HD TV and not in front of me, in real life.
“It’s beautiful here.” Okay, talking to myself—especially so soon after being, well, kinda sorta crazy in the Otherworld—might possibly be a not-so-good idea. I sighed and shrugged. “Whatever. With Nala not here, Stark mostly out of it, Aphrodite doing stuff I’d rather not imagine with Darius, and Sgiach off doing something magickal or kicking ass in superhero-like training with Seoras, talking to myself seems like the only option.”
“I was simply checking my email—nothing magickal or ass-kicking about that.”
I suppose she should have made me jump. I mean, the queen seemed to materialize from the air beside me, but I guess being all shattered and crazy in the Otherworld had given me a pretty high spookiness tolerance. Plus, I felt a weird bond with this vampyre queen. Yeah, she was awe-inspiring and had mad powers and all, but in the weeks since Stark and I had come back, she had been a fixture by my side. While Aphrodite and Darius played gross kissy-face and walked hand in hand on the beach, and while Stark slept and slept and slept, Sgiach and I had spent time together. Sometimes talking—sometimes not. She was, I’d decided days ago, the coolest woman, vamp or not, I’d ever met.
“You’re kidding, right? You’re an ancient warrior queen who lives in a castle on an island no one can get to without you letting them, and you’re checking your email? Sounds like magick to me.”
Sgiach laughed. “Science often feels more mysterious than magick, or at least I have always thought so. Which reminds me—I have been considering how odd it is that daylight affects your Guardian with such debilitating severity.”
“It’s not just Stark. I mean, it’s been worse with him recently ’cause, well, ’cause he’s hurt.” I paused, tripping over the words and not wanting to admit how hard it was to see my Warrior and Guardian so obviously messed up. “This really isn’t normal for him. He can usually stay conscious during the day, even if he can’t stand direct sunlight. All the red vampyres and fledglings are the same about it. Sun does them in.”
“Well, young queen, it could be a distinct disadvantage that your Guardian is unable to protect you during the daylight hours.”
I gave a shoulder shrug, even though her words sent a shiver of what might be premonition down my spine. “Yeah, well, recently I’ve learned to take care of myself. I think I can handle a few hours a day on my own,” I said with a sharpness that surprised even me.
Sgiach’s green-amber gaze caught me. “Do not allow it to make you hard.”
“It?”
“Darkness and the struggle against it.”
“Don’t I have to be hard to fight?” I remembered skewering Kalona to the wall of an Otherworld arena with his own spear, and my stomach clenched.
She shook her head and the fading daylight caught the streak in her silver hair, making it glisten like cinnamon and gold mixed together. “No, you must be strong. You must be wise. You must know yourself and trust only those who are worthy. If you allow the battle against Darkness to harden you, you will lose perspective.”
I looked away, staring out at the gray-blue waters that surrounded the Isle of Skye. The sun was setting into the ocean, reflecting delicate pink and coral colors across the darkening sky. It was beautiful and peaceful and looked utterly normal. Standing here it was hard to imagine that hanging around in the world out there was evil and Darkness and death.
But Darkness was out there, probably multiplied times a gazillion. Kalona hadn’t killed me, and that was really, really gonna piss off Neferet.
Just the thought of what that meant, that I was going to have to deal with her and Kalona and all the horrible bullpoopie that went along with them again made me feel incredibly tired.
I turned away from the window, squared my shoulders, and faced Sgiach. “What if I don’t want to fight anymore? What if I want to stay here, at least for a while? Stark’s not himself. He needs to rest and get better. I’ve already sent that message to the High Council about Kalona. They know he murdered Heath and then came after me, and that Neferet was all involved in it and has allied herself with Darkness. The High Council can handle Neferet. Hell, adults need to handle her and the nasty evil mess she keeps trying to make out of life.”