Mystik Warrior: (Dark Warrior Alliance Book 2) (9 page)

The boat lurched, sending them stumbling and throwing out their arms and swords for balance. Jace stayed low to avoid friendly strikes. “Shit, they’re under the boat—” his words died off as they were all sent toppling into the water. He dropped his sword and frantically swam to the bottom of the murky swamp. He searched as best he could with the limited visibility, feeling around for his weapon. He was completely at their mercy without it. Several agonizing minutes passed, but his search yielded nothing. He cursed fate for his luck.

Fate be damned, he wasn’t going to fail Cailyn. He kicked up and gulped in mouthfuls of fresh air when he breached the surface. Zander was perched on a pylon wielding his claymore, while Bhric stood on a fallen log, together facing ten monsters. Gerrick was on the other side of the swamp fighting off four beasts.

At that moment, three of the Wendigo battling Zander and Bhric broke off and headed Jace’s way. He called his staff to him and grasped the Alder wood below the leather grip, hefting it to shoulder height.

When the first beast reached him, he shoved the end through his throat and sent a wave of power through the staff. The hole widened and Jace wrenched it from side to side. He felt his magic draining, and was relieved when the head plopped backwards into the water, sending the torso splashing after it. As he swiveled the staff and turned to the last two, a flash caught his eye. Gerrick had taken out two with one sword stroke. That warrior was a beast.

Refocusing on his own combatants, Jace put all of his force behind his next swing and took off a quarter of one Wendigo’s head, but the damn thing was still coming after him. Directives were definitely imbedded deep in their DNA. Otherwise, survival instinct would kick in and send this one scrambling. He was able to slow it down by pushing it back into the water.

Zander and Bhric were cutting through their numbers rapidly, and Gerrick was down to one opponent. That small distraction cost Jace as claws dug into his biceps. The zombie was pulling Jace up to his dripping fangs. He managed to grab the small
sgian dubh
he kept sheathed at his ankle and sliced into the creature’s carotid, ducking to avoid further contamination.

He was in trouble, he thought, as he felt the excruciatingly painful movement of the acid through his veins. Wrenching his arms free he cried out and sliced his knife through its neck, finishing it off before he staggered and fell face first into the murky water.

He couldn’t fail Cailyn. He needed to get to the salt in his medicine bag. His arms felt like lead, but he managed to plant his palms into the soft ground and heft himself over onto his back. Stars glinted in his vision and he heard splashing close by. A thousand-pound weight kept his body immobile.

“Salt,” he whispered, hoping one of his fellow warriors heard him. He was unable to do anything but turn his head.

He watched Gerrick jump over downed bodies and race after the Wendigo missing part of its head. The idiot hadn’t seen Gerrick, thinking it had an easy target in Jace. Jace noticed Bhric and Zander were not far behind. Bloated bodies floated all around them. Bhric made it to his side while Gerrick attacked the last Wendigo.

“Fucking hell, Jace. You were clawed. What do we do now?” Bhric sputtered.

“Grab the…salt, it’s…under…my
wampum
,” he breathed.

“Och, where exactly is your
wampum?
” Bhric asked, concern etched into his features.

“Grab the bag under his belt,” Gerrick bellowed as he fought.

Zander had already pushed his brother out of the way and Jace could tell from the King’s expression that he looked bad. “Bluidy hell, I have the salt. Jace, hang in there. What do I do, Gerrick?”

“Bhric, grab his forearms below the affected areas and cut off the blood flow. Let’s get his jacket and shirt off,” Gerrick instructed, coming to their side.

Silver glinted from Zander’s hand and before he processed what was happening, Jace felt warm night air skate across his burning flesh.

Gerrick grabbed his legs and gave further instructions. “Good, now Zander, rub as much salt as you can into the wounds. This is going to hurt like hell and instinct will have him fighting back. Hold tight, Bhric.”

“Get ready, buddy. This will be over before you know it,” Zander encouraged as fire exploded in Jace’s right arm before he could brace himself.

Jace’s back arched and his legs kicked out at the iron bands holding them. The fire spread, and his body began bucking wildly against Bhric and Gerrick’s hold. He turned his head, expecting to see the flesh of his arm seared to the bone. Zander was grinding another handful of salt into the affected area. It pulsed white-crystalline light, like a strobe light as it devoured the poison. Zander leaned across his body to reach his other arm. Without the command leaving his brain, Jace was biting into the muscles of Zander’s chest. White powder went flying into the misty night air.

“Shite, let go of me,” Zander snapped. Without taking the time to break Jace’s hold, Zander rummaged through his medicine bag and then the fire renewed in his left arm. Twin blazes collided and felt like they were eating him alive.

“How long will this take?” Jace was unable to focus on Zander’s voice or any response that was given. His body writhed in pain for what seemed like an eternity. All the while, he imagined Cailyn’s beautiful smile to get through it. Barbs of black magic from the Wendigo venom left his blood one cell at a time, and finally, the fire began to cool.

He blinked open his eyes and assessed his body. Expecting to find bloody stumps instead of arms, he was relieved to find them whole and at full strength. His head was pounding out a fierce beat of pain, but otherwise, he was surprisingly good for nearly becoming one of the flesh-eating Wendigo.

Jace raised himself on one elbow and ran his hands across his bare chest. He gazed around the swamp and noticed the zombies had been piled up and he watched as Gerrick threw a match on the heap. Within seconds, a bonfire was eating up the remains. The warriors hovered close, swords at the ready.

Bhric interrupted the silence. “Are you okay? Do you have a craving for my flesh?”

“I’m okay. I’m not infected.” Jace shook his head to clear it.

“Thank the Goddess. I didna want to tell my mate or her sister that we lost you,” Zander replied. Jace wondered if Zander was aware of the connection between he and Cailyn.

Leaving that issue for another time, Jace assessed their situation. “Now what? She has to be close…” he trailed off as the air to the south of them shimmered and an old, rustic cabin materialized. It looked as if the big bad wolf could huff and puff and blow the house down with its thatched roof and weathered appearance.

“This woman courts death with the creatures she uses for protection,” Bhric surmised, motioning to the enormous, black wraith floating above the sagging porch.

“Shut up, she can hear you,” Zander’s whisper was barely audible even to their supernatural hearing.

Bhric sheathed his sword and voiced what no one wanted to. “We’re fucked.”

Kyran stalked the night looking for skirm, trying like hell to forget one hot little human female. The moment he had seen Mackendra, he had wanted to do things to her he had never once fantasized about in his seven hundred forty years. He wanted to carefully take her while looking into her beautiful, whiskey-colored eyes. The thought made him shudder.

For centuries, he’d indulged in his carnal pleasures with dominance and power, not sweetness and caring. He was a twisted bastard, and he liked it that way. So did some of the females at Bite, for that matter. It made him perfectly happy. Change wasn’t something he dealt with well, and he had taken off the second his desire had taken this turn.

That wasn’t to say he didn’t get hard imagining Mackendra secured to his cross, or hanging from his swing. In fact, he was harder than he’d ever been at the thought. He imagined her flesh turning pink as he brought his leather crop down across her breasts and ass. He groaned at the thought of her submitting to him. She was a strong, independent woman who would not break easily, and winning her submission was a temptation that he had to deny, even though he relished the thought of being the one to bring her to that erotic place. His every instinct cried out for him to go to her.

It was going to be a battle to stay away from her, one that he was unsure if he was going to fight. He was not magnanimous enough to stay away from her for her own good. He would claim her before he suffered…suffering was for his women.

Thoughts of women being tortured always brought him to the reason for his perversions…his mother’s rape and murder. He had been but mere days beyond his stripling years when the demons and their skirm attacked their castle in the Scottish Highlands. His mother had placed him in a hidden room that was concealed in a wall of his parent’s suite while his father had taken the twins to hide them in a different location.

When his father returned to the bedroom, he had been overtaken. Skirm beat his father then held him down while more skirm tied his mother to their bed. The thuds of the Behemoth archdemon’s boots had echoed loudly in Kyran’s young ears. It was a sound that tormented him to this day.

The demon stormed into the room and began fileting his mother as if she were a piece of meat. He cut the flesh from her rib cage, making sure to slowly remove her breasts. As his mother screamed, Kyran had slammed his eyes shut, unable to shut out her whispered gurgling plea, “please don’t hurt me.” His eyes then opened to the sight of her lying there with her throat being torn out, and the demon shoving body parts where they should never go. He was unable to look away as his mother was violated, then murdered.

Witnessing something like that changed a male. Witnessing it as a child twisted his desires, and fucked things all to hell. He had accepted what he was long ago.

Leaving the past behind him, Kyran looked around and realized that he was deep in a residential neighborhood, and he sensed that there was a skirm nearby. There was no mistaking the pins and needles that accompanied their presence. Perfect, he had steam to work off and no time to go to Bite.

Sgian dubh
in hand, he stalked around the shrubs and evergreens to find a skirm stalking a young human. He sifted behind a detached garage and yanked the idiot behind the building as he passed. They were so focused on the orders of their masters when they were on a hunt that they were easy to pick off. He muffled the skirm’s cries and waited to hear the female resume her trek down the street.

“You picked the wrong street, arsehole,” Kyran breathed into the skirm’s ear as he plunged the blade through his heart and watched the creature turn to ash and blow away in the wind. He glanced down, cursing at the residue on his favorite silk shirt. That had been too easy, and didn’t give him the relief he needed.

He glanced at the lightening sky. Thanks to modern technology and his internet stalking, he knew that Mackendra’s house was on his way home. He needed to see her before returning to Zeum. He had left his brother’s treasured mate vulnerable, and he would never forgive himself if anything happened to Elsie, but he had a burning desire to see Mackendra before he retired for the day.

*****

“Please tell me that one of you knows how to deal with these creatures because I doona have a clue,” Zander said as he looked from Jace to Gerrick to the top of the house. The skeletal creature was clad in a black mist that cloaked all but its face and hands. Jace knew the eye sockets peering out at you from under its hood may appear empty upon first glance, but you saw your destruction in their depths, moments before it sucked your soul from your body and left you a dried up husk.

Jace tried to focus enough to respond to Zander, but his pounding head took all his attention. He did a quick scan and noted that his throat was dry as a desert and his arms burned with pain. He felt as if a cement truck had parked across his chest, and it took all his strength to sit up. Luckily, he had mastered the art of appearing perfectly fine many centuries ago, despite being in utter agony.

“Evzen gave me a way to handle these creatures. We are going to need the boat again, unless we want to swim up to the dock, but I wouldn’t advise that. I can only buy us enough time to get from the dock into the house before the wraith rains hell on us,” Jace relayed as he conjured himself a shirt and considered the best approach to the house on stilts.

“He couldn’t have given us more time?” Bhric grumbled.

“We will be lucky to get those few seconds. You can’t kill wraiths, and it’s near impossible to stun them,” Jace replied.

Gerrick turned an eye on the boat. “Get your ass over here and help me, Bhric.”

“I canna believe I have to go back into that water. I already smell like swamp-ass,” Bhric complained as he headed towards the boat.

“You and me both,” Gerrick agreed as they righted the boat and they all climbed back in.

Once settled in the boat and closer to Bhric, he noted the warrior did smell foul, they all did, in fact. He may not know women, but he knew that they couldn’t enter the Voodoo Queen’s house smelling like this and expect help. He dried and cleaned his leathers and shit-kickers with a quick spell. Gerrick cleaned his own clothes as Jace muttered another quick spell to clean the king and his brother as well.

“That’s much better,” Bhric said, plucking at his shirt. “You sorcerers come in handy. I could shrink you and carry you around in my pocket. Or, we could start hiring you both out. You’d make good maids,” the warrior joked.

Jace bit his lip to hold back his laugh as Gerrick muttered a reversal spell and added a noxious bit of pus.

“What the fuck?” Bhric roared. “Why’d you do that?”

“
Brathair,
I believe they are telling you they didna appreciate being degraded to mortal cleaning elements. Thank you both for the help cleaning. Now what, Jace?” Bhric shrugged at Zander’s comment and smiled.

“Gerrick and I need to cast a confounding spell to blind the wraith, and once it can’t track my movements, I will immobilize it with these agates,” Jace retrieved the banded black and white agates from his bag. “It will only be paralyzed momentarily, so be ready to act fast and get through the door. Gerrick?”

Gerrick’s nod was interrupted by Bhric. “Wait, are you going to clean me again?”

“No, I’m not,” Gerrick muttered before turning to Jace. Zander grabbed the ruff of Bhric’s thick neck in a hold only the powerful vampire king could get away with before Bhric caused more problems. Gerrick held the crystal quartz to the prow of the boat and it resumed its trek to the cabin.

For the third time that night, Jace had his staff in hand, ready to chant the words to a spell. He loved using his sorcery so freely, but regretted that he was going into a dangerous situation with his energy depleted. It couldn’t be helped, and hopefully didn’t put them at a disadvantage.

Belatedly, he realized he had been so focused on what they would encounter on the journey to her door, that he never asked how best to negotiate with her. The lack of knowledge didn’t sit well with him.

There was nothing he could do about that now, so he made sure Gerrick was focused and began chanting the spell. Gerrick quickly joined in, and the sudden shriek told Jace that the wraith had been blinded by their spell just as the boat bumped into the dock. There was no mistaking the creature’s anger.

Jace said a silent prayer to the Goddess that the stones found their mark before they left his hand. Less than a second later, an eerie silence descended over the bayou. Not even the ever-present crickets and bull-frogs made a noise. “Move it, now. We only have seconds,” Jace yelled, shoving Gerrick out of the boat.

Moving at supernatural speed, Zander was knocking on the door within a millisecond. Jace had planned on barging in, but Zander’s way was probably better for their chances. She had better open the door quickly because there was no telling how long the wraith would be frozen. A couple seconds passed and he silently screamed in his head at the delay.

Forcing a breath through his nostrils, Jace caught a whiff of how putrid Bhric smelled. He was about to take pity on him and clean the poor bastard when the door slowly creaked open. There was no one in the dark doorway greeting them. Four pairs of wary eyes met each other, conveying the apprehension that none would ever admit to out loud. They had to enter before the wraith attacked, so Jace shrugged and quickly walked into the darkness before anyone else, thinking it was the lesser of two evils.

If they stayed out with the creature, even now re-gaining movement, they would be killed. And not only killed, their souls would be devoured. He’d be damned if he allowed anything to harm his Fated Mate’s soul. It was his duty to keep it safe.

The door slammed shut once they had all crossed the threshold. Hundreds of black candles flared to life in the next breath. They stood in a large entryway. From the outside, you would never expect to be in such a large space. Clearly, there was a dimensional spell at work here. The room was one massive open area, and if possible, this space was even more cluttered than the shop on Bourbon Street.

Countless shrunken heads and dolls surrounded them while a cloying sweet smell of incense permeated the air. Jace turned his head and gaped at the jars of chicken feet, eyeballs, and unknown skulls. On the set of shelves next to that, he saw what looked like the embryos of various species. He didn’t want to know how she used those, given that an embryo was only used in black magic.

Everywhere he looked there were antique bookshelves and sideboards with miniature skeletons, masks, jars of ash and dirt, and random figurines. Jace was amazed at the amount and variety of magical paraphernalia that surrounded them.

There was only one thing missing. Where was Marie Laveau? There were no stairs, no doors, and no hallways. The only place to sit was a velvet-covered armchair set before a blazing fireplace. He looked to Zander and the others.

A soft feminine throat clearing brought all their attention around to the maroon chair before the fireplace, which was clicking shut as the regal female took a seat. She wore a tignon of vibrant gold. The elaborate headdress was adorned with numerous rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and diamonds. She kept her hair under a wrap, but Jace saw that it was black. As she situated herself, she adjusted the luxurious gold and red shawl more firmly around her shoulders.

“I thought you’d have headless chickens hanging from the rafters,” Bhric blurted into the quiet. Jace turned incredulous eyes to Bhric. Did he have a death wish?

“A headless vampire runnin’ ‘round be bettah,” she purred in a heavy Cajun accent. Her creamy café-au-lait skin glowed, and Bhric’s eyes widened as the pulse of her power nearly knocked him off his feet, and had him gritting his teeth in pain. “Dem chickens is in da soup pot over der,” she chuckled and the oppressive power dissipated.

The message was clear, they were in her territory and she tolerated their presence to an extent, but would take them out if need be. They needed to tread carefully.

Zander bowed deeply and addressed the queen. “Your majesty. We come to you in peace and ask for help. We have encountered Fae troubles, and need your expertise. I would bargain for an antidote.” Zander reached his massive height once more, and met the female’s gaze firmly.

“Me tink you too readily make bargains, young king.”

“With respect, my mate is worried that her sister will be lost to us. Cailyn is her only remaining family. And there is nothing I won’t do to ensure my mate’s happiness,” Zander vowed.

“Ta have such love and devotion,” Marie shook her head. “Da body fails because Cailyn’s soul has been taken ta da place not of death, but of imprisonment. Da fate in such a place can stretch on foreva. Tell me, what would you bargain ta me?”

Zander was silent while he pondered his response. Jace had no idea what to offer and was completely out of his element here. He was a healer, not a politician.

“I have wealth and jewels to offer but I suspect that will no’ do. What I offer is a formal alliance with your voodoo nation.”

“I tink I would hear what young Jace has ta offer.”