CHAPTER TWENTY
Neferet
“Thank you, Judson. I knew you would find exactly what I needed. You may leave it on the table there, beside the door to the balcony. Oh, but please don’t go. My need for you is not finished. As you can see, here comes Kylee, right on time with the little group I asked her to fetch for me.” Neferet’s smile included the frightened-looking group of humans who were reluctantly entering her penthouse, as well as her male staff members, though she truly smiled only at her children who possessed the men. “I do appreciate punctuality, Kylee. Pour me a glass of wine.”
Neferet counted the humans. Twelve of them. Out of more than two hundred worshippers, twelve were genuinely kind enough for Lynette to make note of them. The Goddess wasn’t upset by that low number, she simply had to be sure her math was accurate and that there were enough of them. “Yes,” she spoke aloud as she ran the numbers in her head. “One every five minutes should suffice. It’s a short distance from here to the House of Night. That will give him plenty of time and incentive.”
“Goddess? Is there something you’d like us to do? A dance you’d like us to learn?” an attractive young woman asked, curtsying gracefully.
“You were one of the waltzers, were you not?” Neferet said.
“Yes, Goddess. My name is Taylor.”
Neferet sighed in disgust. “Oh, no matter. I’ll let you keep that name.”
“Th-thank you, Goddess,” Taylor said hesitantly.
“And yes, Taylor, there is something monumental I want the twelve of you to do before sunrise, which is only a little more than an hour away. In celebration of such an extraordinary event, I shall break my own decree and speak her name. Lynette”—Neferet spoke the name carefully; to her it tasted of betrayal—“noted that each of you is especially kind.”
Taylor’s smile was hesitant but genuine. “That was nice of her.” The woman glanced around the penthouse. “Where is Lynette?”
Reminding herself that she might need all twelve of them, Neferet did not strike Taylor down. Instead, with enormous patience she said, “Taylor, I said that I shall break my decree and speak her name. I did not say anyone else could.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Goddess,” Taylor said quickly, bobbing another curtsy.
“That is quite all right, and quite understandable. I should have made myself clearer. Think nothing of it, Taylor. So, as I was saying, Lynette made note of each of you. I wanted to be sure you understood that you are here because of her.” A shiver of fear began to move through the group. Neferet felt it with them and smiled. “Why don’t you sit in the living room? I prefer you to be comfortable. Kylee, would you pour champagne for my supplicants, please. Judson, go to that clever little writing desk that is in my bedchamber and bring me one of those lovely Tulsa postcards and a pen.”
While her servants did her bidding, Neferet opened the glass door that led to the balcony. Wind whipped inside, carrying the scent of rain with it. Neferet opened her arms, reveling in the power in the atmosphere that foretold a storm. As if she’d drawn it through her desire, thunder rolled in the distance and lightning followed it, gleeful and bright, across the sky. “This is a truly magnificent night! A predawn storm is my absolute favorite. I do adore Oklahoma in the springtime.”
“Goddess, your postcard and pen.”
“Thank you, Judson.” Neferet took the card, and in her flowing script she wrote four words on it. When she was finished, she looked up, smiling at the frightened group. “Now, who shall be first?” Neferet tapped her chin, as if considering. “Taylor! It will be you!”
“What can I do for you, Goddess?” Taylor asked nervously, though she added her honest, kindhearted smile to the question.
“Come here, my dear. First I want to give you this.”
Taylor trembled as she approached Neferet. “Let’s see, yes, I think the front pocket of those slacks will do. They are made of such a fine-quality material with nice deep pockets. Lynette was right, I am going to ban the wearing of jeans. Let us hope she was just as right about this little group.” She smiled at Taylor and handed her the postcard. “Put this in your pocket, please.”
Taylor glanced at the card, put it in her pocket, and asked, “What does ‘one every five minutes’ mean?”
“Well, Taylor, if my calculations are correct, it means one of you is going to die every five minutes. Judson and Tony, bring Taylor along.”
Neferet strode onto the balcony, glad the wind carried away Taylor’s pathetic screams. “There”—she pointed to the front of the balcony—“throw her from there. Swing her several times so that you give her a good toss. If I understand the intent behind the wretched spell that binds me here, kindhearted Taylor should pass through the barrier untouched so that she can fall, shrieking, to the pavement below.”
With no emotion, the two men swung the hysterical girl once, twice, thrice, and then heaved her up and over the balcony. Curious, Neferet watched her windmill her arms and legs until she landed almost exactly where Neferet had imagined.
“Next time aim a little more to the right,” she commanded the men. Then she returned to the penthouse door and the screaming, panicked people within. “The loudest of you will go next!” Like snuffing a candle, they muffled their own screams. “Kylee, set the kitchen timer for five minutes,” she said, then she shut the door to the penthouse, took the Glock that Judson had found in pharmaceutical representative’s room, and sat at the wrought-iron bistro table she’d chosen earlier for its height and stability.
“Come to me, children,” Neferet commanded.
The tendrils obeyed her immediately, swarming to her and circling around her bare feet. She studied them carefully, finally bending to pick up an especially fat one. Neferet placed it on the top of the little table before her.
“This will be over swiftly,” she told the waiting tendril. “I will honor your sacrifice with my own blood.” Though it trembled, the creature did not struggle or try to escape. Neferet smiled. “You are brave and strong—exactly what my spell needs. And so it begins!” She pierced the black, rubbery flesh near the tendril’s open mouth, and then, in one swift motion, Neferet ripped a thin thread of skin from her child.
Precious flesh filled with magick power
Obey my command; fulfill my will
Kalona’s end I prophesy within this hour
The masquerading immortal I shall kill!
Neferet lifted the Glock and wrapped the bloody thread of skin around its muzzle, covering the weapon in Darkness. Then she pursed her full lips and blew on it. As her breath touched the tendril, it rippled and then disappeared, having been fully absorbed.
“If I am right, and I am rarely wrong, that should do very, very well.” Absently, Neferet slit the inside of her forearm and offered the scarlet slash to the wounded tendril, who eagerly began to feed and heal itself.
Then Neferet sipped her wine and waited.
Kalona
“Do her eyes always bleed like that when she has a vision?” Marx asked him.
Before he could respond, his son answered for him. “Yes. The visions cause her a lot of pain. Stevie Rae and Zoey worry about her, especially because the intensity of them seems to be getting worse.”
Kalona and Marx hadn’t left Nyx’s Temple, but they had moved to one of the candlelit meditation alcoves, along with Rephaim, making way for Stevie Rae and Damien, whom Zoey had called to bring wet washcloths, fresh clothing and, after much discussion, a bottle of red wine. Aphrodite had gotten sick when Darius had tried to move her, so Darius had announced it was in the Goddess’s Temple his Priestess would remain until she was recovered.
Truth be told, Kalona had been glad for the excuse to stay within Nyx’s Temple. After so long being absent, he couldn’t seem to get enough of the Goddess’s presence, even if it was only through the blessed energy that, as surely as vanilla and lavender, permeated the air.
“Father, the vision troubles me.” The worry in Rephaim’s voice brought Kalona’s attention from the ethereal to the tangible.
He smiled at his son, enjoying the warm feeling it gave him to accept the boy’s affection. “It is no more than symbolism. You know how much Aphrodite dislikes symbolism. That is why she prefers a literal interpretation.”
“But she saw you fall and die.”
“And she said it was a real death, not a symbol,” Marx added.
Kalona shrugged. “Yet here I am, two feet solidly on the ground, very much alive.”
“But not completely immortal.” Rephaim spoke the words so softly that Marx said, “What was that, Rephaim? Your father isn’t what?”
“My son worries too much.” Kalona cut Rephaim off, giving him a look that stopped whatever else he might have said. “The truth is, Aphrodite has seen Zoey’s death twice, as well as her grandmother’s death. There stands Zoey. And you know Sylvia Redbird is alive and well.” Kalona put his hand on his son’s shoulder, pleased by his concern but also wanting to alleviate it. “It is less than an hour until dawn. Should you not be—”
The detective’s phone rang. Marx glanced at it and excused himself to take the call.
“I won’t be silenced about this, Father,” Rephaim said.
“About what?” he prevaricated.
Rephaim frowned at him. “Your impending death.”
Kalona chuckled. “Immortals do not die. Or did you forget why Neferet is causing us such problems? Were it otherwise, Stark could simply direct an arrow to kill her and we would be done with it.”
“You changed in the Otherworld, enough that an oath you swore on your immortality was no longer binding.”
“Son, I have battled Darkness since then and survived what would surely kill any mortal. I appreciate your concern, but your worry is needless.”
Marx rushed into the Temple. “Neferet is throwing live hostages from the balcony of the Mayo—one every five minutes. Two are already dead. We have four minutes until a third is added to that number.”
A sense of calm came over Kalona. “She must be trying to break the protective spell.” He turned to Zoey. “Get your circle to the Council Oak Tree. Strengthen Thanatos and the protective spell. No matter what happens, do not let that spell fail.”
“I’ll drive,” Stark said. Already they were all running for the door.
“Go with them!” Aphrodite said, pushing Darius away from her. “If Neferet gets out, we’re all dead.”
“Rephaim, go with Stevie Rae. Be sure your Priestess is safe,” Kalona told his son.
“You riding with me?” Marx asked him as they jogged toward the parking lot.
“No,” Kalona said. “I’m flying. It’s faster. I’ll meet you there.”
“Be careful up there,” Marx said, offering his hand.
Kalona grasped it. “You stay safe as well, my friend.”
Then he turned to Rephaim and pulled his son roughly into an embrace. “You are the part of my life of which I am most proud.” He released Rephaim, but before he could launch himself skyborne, Kalona felt a soft hand touch his arm. He looked down to see Zoey Redbird watching him with wide, knowing eyes.
“I’m glad you got your second chance with us,” she said. “I’m glad you’re on our side.”
He smiled at her, surprised by how much her words meant to him. He touched her cheek. “As am I.” Then he took to the sky, beating the air powerfully with sweeps of his mighty wings.
Kalona streaked across the billowing thunderclouds almost in time with the lightning. The storm’s winds buffeted him, but Kalona took no heed of it. He had one duty, one responsibility, one edict from his Goddess. He would protect the people in need. No matter the cost, he chose to stand between Neferet and those he had come to value, even to love.
Suddenly, the clouds before him began to boil and change form until Kalona was staring into the glowing eyes of the White Bull. His body was an enormous cloud, his horns dripping with a rain of blood.
Though it has been eons since last we met, you are as predictable now as you were then. The voice blasted through Kalona’s mind. What mutually beneficial deal shall we make this time, Kalona?
“None, bull. Last time we met I rejected you in words, but not in my heart, nor in my deeds. Last time we met I allowed your Darkness to feed that which was weak within me and poison my life. This time I am different. This time I reject you in words, in heart, and in deeds.”
Really, Son of the Moon? Would you still reject me if I told you I had the power to restore to you everything you lost during the eons you have wandered the mortal realm?
“There is nothing you can give me that would be worth the price.”
But you haven’t even heard my price. It would be so very little in comparison to that which you have lost.
“Hear me, and hear me well, bull, though you will never truly understand what I say because your spirit is diseased. Even if I do not get everything I desire—even if I cannot control everything around me—the end does not justify the means. It is impossible to capture love with evil. Once and for all, I choose Light!” Kalona lifted his arm and his onyx spear appeared. “Now, begone and leave me to the consequences of my choice!” He hurled the spear into the bull-shaped thundercloud. With a roar of pain and anger, the creature disappeared.
Kalona fisted his hands to control the tremors that cascaded through his body. “I have no time for fear. I have my duty to complete.” Resolutely, he flew on.
Kalona landed on the rooftop of the taller ONEOK building in time to see two men dragging a struggling girl across the Mayo’s balcony. Neferet was seated at a small table in the middle of the balcony, sipping from a crystal goblet.
What is she doing? Why is she throwing people from the balcony? Kalona tried to puzzle it through as the men holding the girl watched Neferet expectantly, obviously awaiting her sign. Kalona could see nothing but madness behind Neferet’s actions. It is not unlike her to torture humans. And death gives her power. Perhaps this is an amusement and an energy gain for her. Perhaps she is simply bored and playing her macabre version of a game.
Neferet nodded. One man took the girl’s arms. Another took her legs, and they began to swing the girl so that she could be tossed over the edge. Even above the howling wind and the rumbling thunder Kalona could hear her screams.
Kalona stood, spread his wings, and readied himself to dive—to catch the girl.
Neferet’s goblet shattered on the stone floor as she saw him. She picked up a handgun and sighted it at him.
Then Kalona understood her game.
He also understood Aphrodite’s vision. The Prophetess had been correct. It had been literal rather than symbolic.
Thank you, Nyx, for allowing me a choice. But this time, I will uphold my duty. This time, I choose Light, no matter the cost.
Kalona leaped from the rooftop of the ONEOK building, arms and wings spread, a clear target as he hurled forward to save one more human from the consequences of Neferet’s madness.
But the men didn’t throw the girl. Instead they ducked down, giving Neferet a clear line of sight. The red laser lit up the center of Kalona’s chest instants before Neferet began to pull the trigger over and over and over again, emptying the weapon into his body.
Darkness-coated bullets slammed into Kalona, piercing him and sending poison to scorch his heart. He tried to remain upright, but his body, driven back by the force of the bullets, tumbled head over feet, disorienting him. He commanded his wings to catch the sky and hold him aloft, but all control over his body and its preternatural strength had been severed.
For the second time in his eons of existence, Kalona fell.
Detective Marx
“He’s down! The winged guy is down! We need a bus to the Mayo—now!” The radio in Marx’s unmarked car blared the news and he floored the accelerator, turning left down Seventh Street. He picked up the mike and shouted, “This is Detective Marx, clear the blockade on Seventh and Boulder—I’m coming through.” As his car fishtailed, he prayed silently, Let your warning have saved him, Nyx … Let your warning have saved him …
As he sped through the roadblock and the street in front of the Mayo came into view, Marx tightened his grip on the steering wheel. A sickness gripped his stomach. Kalona lay crumpled in a heap in the middle of the street. Heedless of his own safety, Marx maneuvered his car between the Mayo and Kalona, forming a shield. He ran to Kalona’s side and knelt. The big guy was still breathing, but it was bad. Worse than bad. He didn’t seem to have any broken bones, and his head hadn’t split open. But the center of his chest was a jagged burned and bloody wound, obviously made by multiple gunshots. The brunt of the fall had been absorbed by Kalona’s enormous wings. They lay around him in pieces, shattered as if they had been made of black porcelain. Blood seeped from the broken bones that protruded through the raven-colored feathers. Marx did the only thing he knew—he pressed both of his palms to the chest wound an applied pressure.
“Hang on, Kalona. There’s an ambulance coming.”
His amber eyes opened and he focused on Marx. “Tell Aphrodite she was right.” He had to force the words, and the effort made him cough and moan.
“Save it. Tell her yourself. Just stay with me. I’ll get you to the hospital.”
“No hospital. Take me to Thanatos.” Then he closed his eyes and didn’t speak again.
Marx kept talking to him, though, and kept pressure on the wound, even as Kalona’s blood pooled around them in an ever-widening tide.
The ambulance finally got there. The EMTs who got out looked confused and afraid, hesitant to approach.
“What the fuck is your problem? Get him on the gurney!” Marx exploded on them.
“Detective, he’s too big. He won’t fit on the gurney,” said one of the EMTs.
“We’ll lift him with you, Detective.” Marx looked up to see young Officer Carter and a dozen or so uniforms.
Marx nodded a grim thank-you. “Get the gurney out of the back. We’re gonna put him in there, and then we’re taking the bus.” Not giving the EMTs a choice, he said to Carter, “Let’s get him in there. On three, lift him.”
The officers circled Kalona and lifted him, leaving broken pieces of his wings in the blood pool. Kalona didn’t make a sound as they slid him into the back of the ambulance. Marx would’ve thought he was dead had he not climbed in beside him and saw that his heart was still pumping fresh blood from the terrible wound. Marx ripped open HemCon pads, pressing them against Kalona’s chest while he shouted through the open window at Carter, who had taken the driver’s seat. “Get us to the Council Oak Tree, stat!”
Neferet
“Up, children! Lift me so that I may witness my plan come to fruition!” The threads of Darkness swarmed to her, swirling, lifting her high enough that she could see over the balcony to the street below while being careful to keep her far enough away from the edge not to be singed.
“How magnificent! He landed perfectly in the center of the street. Almost in the same spot from which he so recently and arrogantly mocked me, disrespected me, and stole my favorite servant from me. Well, my children, he will not do that again. No man will ever betray me again.” The girl Judson and Tony had baited Kalona with was sobbing hysterically, still collapsed where the two men had dropped her. Neferet sighed and motioned for her children to lower her. “You are safe now,” she told the crying girl. “What I did was to keep all of us protected. Kalona was my enemy, thus he was also yours. You should rejoice in my victory.”
The girl wiped at her eyes with trembling hands, but she was unable to stop crying. “Kylee!” Neferet called, and the servant hurried from inside the penthouse to her. “They simply cannot grasp the fact that what I do is to protect us all. Get rid of them. Immediately. They’re giving me a headache. Judson will help you.”
“Would you have us throw them off the balcony together?” Judson asked.
“No, no, no! There is no need to waste them. Just escort them back to their rooms.”
“Yes, Goddess,” Judson and Kylee intoned together before Judson dragged the hysterical girl from the balcony and herded the remainder of the weeping mortals from her penthouse.
“There. That is so much better,” she said as blissful silence returned to her domain. She addressed the chef who had been standing there, obediently waiting for her next command. “Tony, you may return to the kitchen. In celebration of my victory, I’d like cake. Chocolate cake with night-blooming jasmine flowers decorating it. Can you do that for me?”
“It will be as you command, Goddess,” he said woodenly. Neferet smiled. Tony’s possession had definitely improved his personality.
Still smiling, Neferet strolled leisurely back to the little bistro table to retrieve her glass of wine, and then frowned in annoyance. She’d forgotten that in her haste to shoot Kalona she’d broken the goblet. “Kylee is never here when I need her,” she said and sighed. She considered commanding one of her children to bring her a new goblet. “If only you had opposable thumbs,” she muttered, more to herself than the snake-things that were never far from her. Neferet stood, and the atmosphere of the balcony utterly changed.
The balmy wind turned frigid. The scent of the spring thunderstorm was lost in the reek of a grave. Her children swarmed to her, coiling around her body fretfully.
“You have nothing about which to worry,” she told them. Neferet moved gracefully to the middle of her balcony. Straight and proud, she waited for him to materialize.
The White Bull took form before her. She shivered as his massive body solidified. His opal horns were wet at their tips, touched ever so slightly with the scarlet of fresh blood. His coat was luminous in the predawn light. Each spike of lightning that speared the sky glistened across him. White was too simple a description for his magnificence. The longer Neferet gazed at him, the more iridescent colors she saw within him—and the more she longed to stroke him.
“My lord,” she said, curtsying ever so slightly to him. “Welcome to my Temple.”
Thank you, my heartless one. I have been watching. His voice rumbled through her mind, putting to shame the power of the impending thunderstorm. You have surprised me—twice since last we met.
“I am so glad to hear it, my lord.” Neferet moved closer to him. She reached one slender finger out and touched it to the point of a razor-tipped horn. Delicately, she took her finger into her mouth and tasted the blood. “Vampyre, old vampyre. Very old and powerful. So that is what has been keeping you from me, though I cannot believe this ancient vampyre gave himself to you as freely as do I.”
The bull’s laughter echoed around them. The Scots never give themselves easily. Though when I pluck them from the Isle of Skye, they are especially succulent and worth the effort.
Neferet showed no outward sign of the inward shock his words made her feel. She smiled and dipped her finger once more in the blood. “The Isle of Skye,” she began contemplatively, pausing to lick her finger. “If you have been hunting on Sgiach’s island, it must mean that the balance of Light and Darkness is truly shifting.”
You are as wise as you are heartless—and surprising. He licked the soft flesh inside her arm.
Neferet shivered in pleasure. “Thank you, my lord. And that is twice you have mentioned surprise. Tell me, what have I done that is worthy of your divine notice?”
The first time was at the church. I have long wondered whether you would truly embrace your nature as you embrace your immortality. Watching you do both in such a spectacular display of carnage impressed even me.
Neferet smiled seductively. “You flatter me.”
You surprise me, and so I enjoy flattering you.
“And the second of the surprises?” she coaxed when he seemed more interested in tasting her skin than continuing to flatter her.
You know very well that the second just happened.
“Kalona’s death.” Neferet said the words reverently, as if praying to herself. “I haven’t enjoyed anything so much … well, so much since last I worshipped you.”
Ah, now you flatter me, my heartless one.
“Always, my lord. I choose to always flatter you,” Neferet said.
Would you truly choose to always worship me? The voice inside her head intensified so that it was on the edge of causing her pain.
“What is it you propose?” she asked, stroking his muscular neck and enjoying the frigid feel of his coat.
I can take you from this cage in which they have imprisoned you. You could roam all of the realms with me. I would call you Consort, as you once desired.
“A tempting proposition, my lord,” Neferet said, dipping her finger in the blood on his horn again and buying time as she tasted it. Why should I be Consort when I have already proclaimed myself Goddess? Why should I be bound to serving a god when I am immortal? “Might I have time to consider?”
Of course you may, and I would like to give you a gift while you are considering my proposal. I would free you from the protective spell that entraps you.
“My lord, that is very generous of you,” Neferet said, thinking, and binding of you, as that would put me in your debt once more. “But I would rather break free myself. It would be another opportunity to surprise you.”
Instantly Neferet felt the bull’s displeasure. Ah, a third surprise.
“I hope not an unpleasant one.” Neferet stroked his neck again.
Think nothing of it, my heartless one. Throughout eternity I have found that the more something is desired, the dearer the sacrifice must be to attain it.
Then he drove his hoof into the stone balcony, causing the rooftop to shake. And with the sound of a deafening thunderclap, the White Bull disappeared into the roiling clouds, leaving his cloven imprint behind.
Thanatos
“Zoeybird?”
Thanatos heard the worry in Sylvia Redbird’s voice. She opened her eyes. Shaunee was already peering through the tent flap. The wind had increased and thunder rumbled in the distance. The women had been working to secure their makeshift shelter against the upcoming storm while she and Shaunee rested within.
“What is it?” Thanatos asked tiredly.
Erik, who hadn’t been far from Shaunee all night, called back from just outside the tent, “Zoey’s here. So’s the rest of her circle plus Stark, Darius, and Rephaim. I’d better—”
“Hurry!” Zoey shouted above the wind. “Neferet is trying to break the spell. We have to circle and channel more energy to you.”
Thanatos sat, grasping the table to steady herself. She was dizzy and weak, but she felt no new drain against the spell. “Zoey, circle if you believe you must, but I sense no disturbance in the barrier.”
“Neither do I,” Shaunee said. “Actually, it’s gotten better since it’s so late and there’s obviously a bad storm brewing. People are finally staying home.”
“We’re circling,” Zoey told Thanatos decisively. “You don’t have to cast it. I’ll take the spirit candle and channel the elements to you.” As Damien, Shaylin, and Stevie Rae took their places, Zoey entered the tent for the spirit candle. “Sorry about this, Shaunee. I know you’re tired, so sit just outside the tent. I’ll do my best to channel as much of fire as I can for you.”
“Come on, I’ll help you.” Erik offered his hand to Shaunee. She leaned on him for a few feet, and then she sank to the ground, facing the tent.
“Zoey, explain to me what has happened. Why are you so frantic?” Thanatos asked.
“Neferet’s throwing hostages from the roof of the Mayo. She’s trying to break the barrier,” Zoey explained quickly as her circle took their places and she retrieved the long wooden matches from the altar table.
Struggling to clear her thoughts, Thanatos stood, leaning heavily on the table. “No, as Shaunee said, the barrier is secure. There is no disruption within it. Neferet must have other motives. She—” Thanatos gasped with shock and fell to her knees.
“Darius! Stark! Help me! Something’s wrong with Thanatos. She passed out.”
“No,” Thanatos fought to speak. “Not me—Kalona!”
“What did she say?” Stark asked as he and Darius tried to make her comfortable.
“She said Kalona’s name.” Zoey’s voice was hushed, as if she already had guessed what Thanatos knew.
The scream of an ambulance siren drew closer and closer. “Help me stand. Help me stand!” Thanatos said. “Zoey, ready your circle. I am going to need its borrowed power, though not for the barrier.”
“I’m really sorry,” Zoey said, and grasped her hands, squeezing them briefly before she took the ritual matches and moved to stand before Damien in the east.
Thanatos grounded herself and made ready. Zoey returned to the center to face her, called spirit, and invoked, “Air, fire, water, earth, and spirit! Please fill our High Priestess, Thanatos, and lend her strength for what is to come.”
Thanatos straightened, drawing a deep breath and feeling the power of five elements flowing through her veins as if replacing her blood. She stepped free of Stark and Darius and their helping hands. The ambulance lurched to a stop in the middle of Cheyenne Avenue.
“Rephaim, come here to me, please.” The boy had been standing close to Stevie Rae, just outside the circle.
“You want me to enter the circle?”
“You must. And quickly, too.”
With a worried look at Stevie Rae, Rephaim approached the glowing silver thread that joined the elements and drew the circumference of the circle. The thread of light rippled and drew back on itself, opening just wide enough for Rephaim to step within before closing once more.
“Something is very wrong,” Rephaim said to her.
Thanatos held the boy’s gaze. “It is your father. Be strong for him.”
Rephaim’s face drained of color as the wide rear door of the ambulance opened, and police officers, led by Detective Marx, carried Kalona from within.
“Father!”
Thanatos put a restraining hand on his arm. “He needs to come to us. The circle will welcome him as it did you.” Thanatos raised her voice and called, “Detective Marx, bring my Warrior to me.”
There was a terrible crack of thunder, and lightning flashed across the sky, making the torches that Sylvia had lit throughout the park seem as insignificant as fireflies.
“I can’t carry him alone,” Marx said from just outside the glowing circumference of the circle.
“All who bear Kalona are welcome within,” Thanatos said.
Marx didn’t hesitate. He stepped forward. His men moved with him, bringing Kalona to her and laying him gently on the ground at her feet.
Rephaim was weeping. Thanatos looked from Kalona’s shattered wings to the scarlet soaked pads that did little stop the blood that seeped down the sides of his chest. Finally, her gaze rested on his colorless face. Still not looking away from her Warrior, she said, “Detective Marx, thank you for bringing him to me.”
“She shot him while he was in the air! Emptied a Glock into him. He was trying to save the people she was throwing from the balcony. There was not a damn thing I could do.”
“You have done what he needed. You were a good friend to him.”
“Wish I could have been one longer,” the detective said, wiping the tears from his face.
“He’s dying?” Rephaim’s eyes were glazed with shock and grief.
“Yes,” said Kalona, opening his eyes. “Come here, son.” His hand lifted weakly.
Rephaim dropped to his knees beside his father, clutching his hand. “No! You can’t die! You’re immortal!”
Kalona coughed, and foam flaked with blood came from his lips. His voice weakened as he spoke. “Knew this could happen. My choice, Rephaim. Remember, my choice.” Kalona’s gaze left his son for a moment to go to Stark, who stood silently beside Thanatos. “Use the piece of immortality I gave you for Light. Protect your Priestess.” His eyes seemed to be losing focus. He blinked, struggling to look around, then he found Zoey. “Forgive me—the pain I caused.”
“With my whole heart I forgive you,” Zoey said.
Kalona coughed more blood and grimaced, then he touched his son’s face. “You are the best of me. Find your brothers. Care for them. And watch over Stevie Rae. If you lose her, you will lose yourself.”
“I will do as you say, Father,” Rephaim said, sobbing. “I love you.”
“I will always love you. Always,” Kalona said. Finally, his fading gaze met Thanatos’s. “Thank you for trusting me.”
Thanatos’s chest felt heavy with grief, but she smiled at him. “I have never accepted a Warrior’s Oath before you, and there will be none to come after you. You have been a fine and worthy Guardian.”
Kalona’s red-flecked lips lifted in a satisfied smile. “I did not break my oath…” He drew a gasping half breath, and then his bloody chest did not rise again, his amber eyes lost their light, and Kalona died.