The phantom, p.28
The Phantom, page 28
“Ladies.” Penelope clapped twice. “Chop, chop. Feed, feed. Our illustrious guest is impatient to leave us.”
The females zoomed over, glomming onto him. He withstood the newest feeding with ease. Though each bottomless pit of spectrals took more than usual, he had plenty more hatred at the ready.
As they fell away from him one by one, overfull and moaning, Penelope glided a circle around him. She tilted her head this way and that. “There’s something different about you.”
Before he could respond, not that he’d had any intention of doing so, she swooped in and sniffed at his neck. Licked. Sucked down a mouthful of strength.
With a groan, she eased away from him and wiped at her mouth. “You’re tastier than usual tonight, which means something happened with the phantom. But what?” Gliding around him again, she looked him up and down. “What, what, what?”
“If you are finished eating...” He yearned only to return to Blythe and Isla.
“Not quite yet.” Circling, circling. “After this, you’ll owe me one more fine dining experience. Unless I decide to break our deal and drain your female at her most crucial moment, of course. Or anytime afterward. Even if you manage to get her out of the realm, my link to her will remain.”
Trying to provoke him?
Then she added, “Perhaps you should give me a new reason not to harm her.”
Ah. She sought to herd him into a new deal, and he could guess the parameters. “You expect me to take you with us.” A statement, not a question.
“Not me. All of us.” Grinning at last, she swooped back in, feeding once again. This time, however, she stumbled away with a gasp, her eyes wide with astonishment. And perhaps envy? “You carry the scent of a child on your skin. A girl. Why? How? Tell me!”
“You are done,” he stated flatly. As she sputtered, he flashed to the bedroom.
A quick scan revealed mother and child lay on the bed. Heart pounding, he padded over as quietly as possible. Their eyes were closed, with Isla curled into Blythe’s side. The sight left his chest clenching worse than ever...and inspired his mystery prisoner to issue a high-pitched scream.
He bit his tongue, tasting blood, but he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and gently smoothing a lock of hair from Blythe’s brow. Protective, possessive instincts clawed at him. Will never give her up.
Thinking to take a post in the center of the room and remain on guard all night long, Roux straightened and stepped away—Blythe shot out an arm and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, stopping him.
He craned his neck to meet her gaze and nearly lost his breath. With one gentle tug, she drew him toward the bed. Understanding, he crawled onto the mattress and molded his front to her back.
The protectiveness and possessiveness sharpened. And yet, at the same time contentment spread through him, the scream tapering off.
“What are we going to do?” she whispered.
We. He liked that.
Roux told her the truth. “Whatever it takes.”
* * *
The day came. The final round of the tournament. Blythe opened her eyes to find Roux standing sentry in the center of the bedroom, framed in the golden outline of dawning sunlight. A sweet gesture, but she’d rather have him molded to her.
The Astra sensed her awareness and cast her a burning glance. Heart drumming, Blythe gently extracted herself from her sleeping daughter and padded to her consort. They had much to discuss, but now wasn’t the time. Hungry for contact, she wound her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his.
Immediately he settled his hands on her waist and yanked her closer. Warm shivers rained over her spine. The desperation in his spinning eyes thrilled her...and it had nothing to do with Laban. It wasn’t the manticore she considered when she breathed in his spicy, sweet scent.
“I think I should be gone when Isla wakes, to keep my mind on the coming battle,” she whispered. A barbed lump grew in her throat. “Whatever happens to me, get her home.”
His fingers flexed on her, a thousand emotions flashing over his face in a split second. The one she savored? Tenderness.
“Nothing will happen to you,” he told her, low and fierce.
Deep breath in. Out. “Make sure nothing happens to you, either. I’ll be very upset if my victory peach is bruised. I have plans for him.”
“Do you now?” He flashed her to the private bathroom, spun her around and molded his body to hers. His tantalizing heat engulfed her. “He has plans for you, too.”
A soft cry parted her lips as he ran her earlobe between his teeth and ground against her backside. “By all means,” she rasped, “proceed with yours.”
“Very well. I’ll do as I’m imagining and get you good and frustrated so you’re extra mean on the battlefield.” He dragged his fingertips up her thigh and tunneled his fingers under the large shirt she’d worn to bed. Under her panties.
“Yes,” she mewled, arching into his touch. She lifted her arms and combed her curling claws through his hair.
Playing, playing. His warm breath fanned her cheek as he brought her to the brink of climax. “After you kill everyone, I’ll finish you off.” With that, he flashed off, leaving her throbbing with need.
Argh! Bad Astra. Bad. But good and frustrated? Check.
What was she going to do about that male?
Vibrating with aggression, Blythe cleaned up to wake up and strapped on an array of weapons. Then she flashed to the underground arena, at the edge of the battlefield.
Two hours till showtime.
The four other combatants had beaten her here. Of course. Each stood on one of five small round pedestals forming a circle in the center of the sand.
Blythe claimed the only free pedestal for herself. The one that put her back to the royal dais. Spectators—the few who hadn’t participated in the tournament—trickled in.
“Nice of you to join us,” Lucca offered with a jaunty salute.
“It’s to be a straight-up battle to the death, then?” Blythe asked. A clash between a gorgon, an Amazon, the Phoenix, and the harpy. Anticipation acted as boiling fuel.
“That’s my guess,” the Amazon said.
As the minutes ticked by in terse silence, Blythe’s mind tumbled from thought to thought.
To save or not save Lucca. A question she must answer. Soon. What she knew? She’d be a fool to do as the Phoenix planned and let herself be taken out. Sure, she would survive the sting of fatality, if anything but trinite was used to end her life. But. For help home, Carrigan demanded Lucca’s ultimate survival. Allowing the harpy to win the tournament and don the crown would only lead to her murder.
Speaking of the trinite, which of her opponents would wield it today? Surely the royal council had given it to someone.
Blythe sensed the moment Roux and Isla appeared. The air changed, thickening with shock. Murmurs arose from the stands as well as the other combatants.
“Look at her,” Carrigan breathed with wonder. “So tiny. So adorable.”
“I want one,” Lucca said, making grabby hands. “Give her to me.”
The Amazon shrugged. “I’ve seen cuter.”
“Smart move, bringing a cute kid here to distract everyone,” the gorgon spat at Blythe, “but it’s not going to help you.”
She ignored them all, mapping out a strategy in her head. No outcome had ever been so important. Nothing would dissuade her from the prize. Total victory.
“So, when you hear the horn, go for gold or whatever. I don’t really care anymore. There are no rules. No time limit, either. Last one breathing wins.” Tonka’s preoccupied tone poured through the stadium. Then she began to baby talk with far more focus. “You are too adorable. Yes, yes, you are. Come here to me. Let me rock you to sleep.”
“Stranger danger!” Isla cried. Then, sounding almost smug, she added, “My mom says I get to disembowel strangers anytime I want.”
Tonka laughed, as though delighted. “Such a spicy little pepper. I’m still going to hold you—” Her pain-drenched scream registered next. “You cut off my hands!”
“You shouldn’t have reached for the girl,” Roux stated flatly, and Blythe might have fallen in love with him that very nanosecond.
Sexy Astra. Did he or did he not carry Laban inside his head? What did it mean for her either way? He wasn’t Laban and...she didn’t want him to be. She liked him. Somehow, he just fit her.
Focus! Head in the game.
Perfect timing. The horn pierced the air, and the fight was on. Blythe launched herself at the Amazon.
Carrigan and Lucca went for the gorgon. Clearly, the Phoenix and the harpy had the same plan as Blythe. Remove the two other competitors, then figure everything else out.
Didn’t take long to deduce the reason the Amazon had made it all the way to the finals. The power of her punch and concrete-like fist shattered Blythe’s jaw and knocked out several of her teeth. As she wheeled backward, spitting blood and enamel, the other woman followed the punishing blow with a vicious stab that would’ve slammed a blade through the underside of her chin if she hadn’t misted. By the time she materialized, a split second later, her bones had healed, and her teeth had regrown.
The Amazon used her warp speed momentum to throw another punch. Blythe expected the action, ducked, dove through the other woman. Upon landing, she flowed to her feet, solidified, and kicked backward.
As the other woman stumbled forward, Blythe spun and lifted her sword. Her opponent had already recovered and swung a sword of her own. Their blades met with a clang, metal to metal. No trinite.
“I’m not letting you win,” the Amazon snapped.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Blythe replied. Taking time to trash-talk allowed her to regain her bearings and do what needed doing. “I enjoy my victories so much more when there’s resistance.” That said, she misted into the Amazon. As she’d done to so many others in the past, she took control of the inhabited body and forced the woman to hack off her own head. Then, she slipped free just as Carrigan and Lucca finished off the gorgon.
Was the gorgon the one to wield the trinite?
She intended to check the fallen warrior’s array of weapons. Instead, she was forced to concentrate on the scarlet-splattered Phoenix and harpy, who’d locked in, stalking a circle around her.
“Well?” Carrigan demanded. “Have you made a decision?”
Had she? What to do, what to do? Was the gorgon the one to wield the trinite? Or did Carrigan and Lucca have an agenda of their own, as Erebus suggested? Did the royal council intend to betray Blythe afterward, as Roux believed?
Guess she’d have to roll the dice and trust the only person who had safeguarded her since his arrival. “I have, yes,” she said, lifting her sword. “No deal. I’m taking no chances. I’m going to kill you both.”
28
THE WINNER
Roux sat next to Isla on the dais, white-knuckling his knees. Blythe blocked attacks from both of her competitors. But the partnered pair worked well together, driving her in different directions throughout the arena, and it wasn’t long before the two landed a series of blows.
When one struck, the other prepared to do the same a split second later, leaving their foe little time to think, defend, or render a strike of her own. In a matter of minutes, she was stripped of all weapons. No. No. Maybe she’d shed them willingly for some brilliant reason he couldn’t compute.
Most of her wounds healed in seconds but several remained, gushing crimson. He gripped the arms of his chair. Why? Still she fought, using her claws and teeth.
“She’ll win,” Isla announced with her usual pride and confidence. “She’s the best.”
“She is,” he agreed. But watching her suffer pain, the day after he himself had inflicted more than she’d ever before braved...it wasn’t easy or fun. He would rather endure a thousand more centuries of his former blessing task.
“Yes!” he and Isla shouted in unison when Blythe dodged Lucca’s strike while swinging a sword she hadn’t held a moment ago. Suddenly the harpy’s head flew across the arena, minus her body.
His jaw dropped as realization dawned. Somehow, she’d misted the weapon without misting herself, hiding it from view. Not something he could do. Pride flooded him.
Carrigan bellowed her rage and anguish, wings bursting from her back as the headless body hit the sand, spurting blood. Flap, flap. Those wings produced a gale force that knocked the harphantom to the other side of the arena. As Blythe came to her feet, the Phoenix strolled forward, hips swaying.
“You will pay for what you did to Lucca. One life for another.” Without a pause in her step, Carrigan held up a dagger. Flames spread over her hand. The hilt. The blade. Metal melted, dripping down her arm.
A curse exploded in Roux’s head. The trinite blade, hidden beneath the metal now hardening over her flesh. Beware of the monster underground. Hello, monster.
The Phoenix had never found a way out, had she? Instead, she’d hoped to trick Blythe into trusting and sparing the harpy, allowing Carrigan to end the harphantom without much of a battle.
No wonder the worst of Blythe’s wounds had yet to heal. If the Phoenix sank that blade into the harpy’s heart...
At his knees, his claws cut through his leathers. His skin. Muscle. The tips embedded in bone.
“Well, well,” Blythe said without fear. “Aren’t you the tricky one? I’m going to enjoy burying you in a grave of your own making.”
“As final words,” the Phoenix replied, “those are pretty terrible. Care to try again?”
“I’d rather show you my final words.”
Both Blythe and Carrigan picked up speed, jogging...running...sprinting at each other. Slammed together. Exchanged blows and sprang to their feet. Ducked and dodged. Moved at speeds he struggled to track. He knew when Blythe attempted to ghost inside Carrigan because she bounced back.
The Phoenix possessed a block, similar to Roux’s, though surely not as strong. Bet she’d paid a witch good money for hers. Too bad it wouldn’t save her in the end.
“Do you think we can stop for donuts or something on the way home?” Isla asked him, her calm unshakable. “Momma loves sweets.”
“Victory first, home second, sweets third.” How he maintained a composed facade, he might never know. The combatants fought on with skill and cunning, and completely without mercy.
Isla wiggled in her seat. “Have you talked to your secret prisoner yet?”
He stiffened. Of all the topics to bring up... “I have not.”
“You should.”
He wouldn’t ask if that secret prisoner happened to be her father. He refused to get her hopes up, just in case he was wrong. Please be wrong.
“I knew you brought a child here!” Penelope’s gasp hit his ears, and he growled. The wraith hovered off to the side, staring at Isla as if she’d finally found her holy grail.
Isla regarded the spectral without fear. “Who are you?”
“She is our chosen one. Our key. Give her to me.” The wraith jerked her attention to him. “Give her to me now, Astra, or I drain your gravita.”
Chosen one? Key? He knew of no such lore among the wraiths. Especially considering a young phantom-goddess from Chaos and Erebus’s line.
A cry of distress rose from the battlefield, claiming his focus. He swallowed a roar. A pale Blythe stumbled, without taking a blow. She was being drained right this second. He leaped to his feet, grating, “The girl is mine. So is the mother. You will keep our bargain, wraith, or I will—”
“What?” Penelope demanded. “Time is running out, Astra. You can have mother or child, but not both.”
“I don’t like you,” Isla remarked easily.
“Kill her, kill her, kill her,” the councilmembers chanted.
“Last chance,” the wraith spat at him. “I’ll do it. I’ll let your woman die.”
Rage boiled in his chest as Blythe wobbled on her feet. “Mistake, wraith.” He might not be able to touch her, but he could reclaim what was his. He flipped a switch in his mind, and the hatred she’d stolen in her nightly feedings—what she hadn’t burned through—ripped free of her, slamming into him.
Suddenly Penelope was hit by weakness. Her mask of beauty slipped, revealing the skeletal creature beneath. Another underground monster unearthed.
Too late. Laughing, the Phoenix cut Blythe’s throat with a brutal slash of trinite as she spun—the roar barreled from Roux as one of Carrigan’s fiery wings sliced through the harpy’s belly, cauterizing the edges of the wound at the same time, slowing the healing process.
As Blythe dropped, hitting her knees, the Phoenix executed another spin, clearly intending to use the other blazing appendage to remove her head. But Blythe misted in and out again, avoiding the blow.
Penelope bellowed, rallying. “You think this stops me? Say your goodbyes to your gravita, Astra.”
Breath congealed in his throat as Blythe shot to her feet. She punched the Phoenix, nothing more, but Carrigan wheeled back as if she’d been gutted. A bright gleam of red glittered from her throat as she toppled. The ruby! It had come off the harpy, who had adhered it to the Phoenix. Now Penelope had no idea she drained Blythe’s competition.
Picking up a sword, his woman smiled as Carrigan lumbered to her knees. Swing. Too weak to defend, the Phoenix lost her head. Literally.
Panting, hands fisted, Blythe stood fast as the body of her foe toppled a final time. Whether the Phoenix could heal from such a wound while being drained by a wraith or not was irrelevant. Blythe had done it; she had delivered a death blow, winning the tournament!
But how had the ruby fallen from her perfect skin? The only way would be for Blythe to have forgiven him. Acquitting him of all charges. Which meant...she had.
His eyes widened. Wonder bloomed through him.
