Encore (Descendants of Ra: Book 4) Page 11

  Roman patted Frederick down and found his phone.

  “How are you two so powerful? What are you?” Frederick coughed.

  Roman glanced at Reign who stood on the opposite side of Frederick. Reign raised an eyebrow; no other expression betrayed his stoic countenance. They were still working on that question. “We’re half-breed bastards.”

  Frederick wheezed and shook his head, which caused pieces of scorched skin on his neck to crack and flake off. “Who sired you?”

  A wind kicked up and swirled around the room. Apprehension had Roman rising from his crouch and Reign clutching his blade. They both felt the peculiarity that tightened the gut and made a warrior brace for impact. Together they faced a dark corner of the room.

  “What is it?” Reign grunted.

  “Don’t know.” Roman paused.

  The edge of Reign’s black serrated blade glowed blue while Roman’s blazed with the intensity of the sun. Together, they stalked toward a suspiciously dark corner. Roman thought of McIntosh and the man’s ability to move within shadows and bend the night to his will.

  The dread rising in his gut like a putrid ulcer wasn’t the same sense he registered when McIntosh appeared. Fear touched him in a place where it had never reached. He forced the unwelcome emotion away and zoned in on the patch of night clinging to a corner of the room.

  The darkness receded the closer they approached and finally vanished, revealing the bare wall of the establishment.

  Dragging sounded behind them. The twins turned. The room had cleared, except for Frederick who crawled toward the exit. Reign placed a foot on the center of Frederick’s back, halting his progress and causing him to scream.

  Roman walked around Frederick’s thrashing body. He crouched and gripped Frederick’s face hard.

  “Tell me who sired you, before you kill me,” Frederick whined.

  In unison, the twins said their father’s name, Desakenthos Helios Nicoli Gaidres. Roman laughed at Frederick’s confusion. He wanted a God’s name and they refused to give it.

  Roman’s phone range. It was Quin. Roman walked away from Frederick as he swiped his thumb across the screen. “You’re interrupting me.”

  “I’ve found EJ.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hathor, The Goddess of Love, coalesced inside the kitchen of her Harlem brownstone and breathed in the lingering scent of lemon furniture polish. Home. To her, she hadn’t been gone long, yet a command appearance in Chemmis, the moveable isle, and home of the Egyptian Pantheon, at the behest of the matriarch of the pantheon, a few hours in that alternate realm equaled days here. The floating isle was a microcosm of the best Earth had to offer: dense forests, waterfalls, hot sands, and sultry breezes with a view of the cosmos.

  Still, she missed the simple things that filled her human life: her favorite chair, slippers, pillow top mattress, the sounds of the city, and coffee. She floated over to the Keurig and picked her favorite pod, caramel vanilla crème, and waited. There is something about the smell of freshly brewed coffee even her power couldn’t duplicate.

  So she leaned her hip against the edge of the counter, tapping her fingers until the last drop completed its journey into her mug. With a thought, she added a dollop of cream and two spoonfuls of sugar. She cupped the warm mug, blew across the steamy surface, and took the first delicate sip.

  A rapturous sigh escaped. A mouthful was savored and swallowed as she sauntered from the kitchen to the living room. Her human shell occupied her favorite chair. She brushed a hand over a wrinkled cheek. Thank Ra, the body had survived the abrupt separation when Great Goddess Nu called for aid. If it hadn’t, she would have left this plane of existence and returned to Chemmis permanently.

  The spiritual ties to Chemmis bonded all gods to the isle. Without a host, she couldn’t stay in this realm. Such was the will of Ra before he abandoned the pantheon. Too soon, the body of her host, Hathoria Gregory, would die and Hathor’s link to this world would end. Chemmis would reclaim her, possibly for internment at Aten’s whim, if he remained Regent in Ra’s stead. She’d broken too many rules. Made too many enemies. She shoved the morbid thoughts away.

  Now to make amends with her son. She’d stolen his power, had to in order to defeat Khuket, The Goddess of Chaos, otherwise, the battle at RockGate would have been lost, and Nu. Unlike her vis’Ra, her son’s had no constraints on killing; however, she couldn’t call on them again. Those powers had been returned to Tau.

  Tau would understand. He had to, though his anger would be great. Since his birth, she’d blocked his vis’Ra to protect him. She had no choice. It was the only way to shield him from the wrath of the pantheon. Plus, she’d learned the hard way that an infant was too young to wield the power of life and death. She never regretted her decision, especially not when she breached the barrier shielding those powers. It was the only way to kill Khuket.

  Hathor used her son’s power, and now those destructive powers were free, reclaimed by their rightful owner. Tau, the child of her heart, was a good man. He would not abuse his gift now that he was older, mature. She thought of her handsome son and held the image in her mind to draw him close.

  Chaos brushed her senses. The same chaos she’d recently defeated. She pivoted and gathered her vis’Ra. Her power swirled, ready to strike as she floated into her hallway and stopped yards away from her front door. With a thought, the door opened.

  The man on her doorstep appeared to be Avery Nicolis. The thing standing in her doorway wasn’t all man. It was more.

  “Great Goddess Hathor, may we enter?”

  The deep tone of his voice sounded the same. His aura, the hint of blackness she’d always sensed in his soul, now coated every inch of his being. Yet, that was not what made her insides shiver. Chaos layered and amplified his darkness. The same kind of frenetic energy Khuket, the Goddess of Chaos, wielded during their battle. A battle Hathor, despite borrowing her son’s power, won only with the aid of the Great Goddess Nu.

  Instinct warned her not to let Avery into her home, but if this meeting descended into a fight, the battle would be best fought behind closed doors. Not recorded on someone’s smartphone and posted on YouTube.

  “Enter,” she said.

  The woman with him stepped forward. He grabbed her arm and moved in front of her, clearly shielding the female. The woman meant something to him. Hathor could use her as leverage.

  Technically, the Goddess of Love couldn’t kill. Once, love and hate coexisted within her. After a fit of depravity, Ra wisely stripped her more toxic powers, leaving her only the powers of love. Hathor could maim, incapacitate, curse—her favorite punishment—and lastly, strip all traces of love from a person’s soul, leaving a husk behind.

  Hathor backed into the living room while wondering what had occurred to alter the human she knew as Avery Nicolis, and had he come seeking retribution for Khuket’s demise?

  Avery’s gaze never left her, but the woman gasped when she entered the room and saw Hathor’s human shell. She rushed forward. Once again, Avery stopped her.

  “Don’t, Emeline.”

  “She’s dead,” Emeline whispered.

  “She’s not. Isn’t that correct, Goddess?” Avery moved further into the room. “The elderly Hathoria Gregory is the Goddess’s human shell. Much like Ember is the Goddess Nu’s human shell. Tyrone, I mean Tau, explained how you coexisted with the human using her to shield you from the other gods.”

  Hathor grimaced behind her passive face. Tau was rather chatty about her existence. She would deal with his lapse of discretion later.

  “But how long can she stay like that? An empty shell? It’s still a human body.” Emeline pressed for an answer.

  “The host of a god, indefinitely,” Hathor replied without taking her gaze from Avery. “You are no longer Avery Nicolis. What has transpired since we last met in the wine cellar at RockGate?”

  “A lot.”

  Hathor bristled at his arrogance. “Explain your altered DNA.”

&nb
sp; “I defeated Khuket, Goddess of Chaos, and absorbed her powers.”

  “You lie.” Such a thing was impossible. A goddess could only bestow divine-like powers to her offspring. “I killed that pestilence at RockGate in the room that held Nu’s young host.” Hathor gathered her vis’Ra, prepared to strike Avery down. Whatever he pretended to be, she would stop him.

  “No. She survived the battle and came after me.” The level of Avery’s power soared, causing the room to rumble in response and his lower half to morph into a score of writhing bands.

  Hathor leapt back and rose to hover near the ceiling. He’d spoken the truth. He had absorbed Khuket’s power and become the God of Chaos. A ball of her vis’Ra collected in the palms of her hands. Avery rose to meet her. His hands were open, palms exposed in supplication.

  “Goddess, I didn’t come here for war. I came for answers. For your help.”

  Her eyes narrowed. She didn’t believe him. “Why come to me when Tau could provide all your answers?”

  Avery’s brow furrowed over his intense stare. “Tyrone—Tau—is missing, along with Brayden. We’ve been searching for weeks.”

  What? “How long was I gone?”

  “Well, the battle at RockGate was over nearly three months ago,” Avery said.

  The news stunned Hathor. Three months! And all that time Tau was missing.

  Avery’s cell phone rang as Hathor stretched her senses to their utmost limits for her son. Within seconds, she’d scoured North and South America, Europe, and Asia.

  “You’ve found him?” Avery said to his phone.

  Hathor listened to the response from Quin on the other end and knew Tau and Brayden weren’t whom they spoke of.

  She kept searching for her only child until she caught a trace of him in Egypt, the last place on Earth she ever wanted him to go. She flashed from her home, leaving Avery and his woman to find their way out.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The sun rose and set while EJ measured the slow rise and fall of Ridley’s chest. After she had fallen unconscious, he stripped her down to her black lacy panties and bra. He retrieved a fresh washcloth and a large bowl from the kitchen.

  She’d ordered him to protect her from any harm. That included sickness. He washed her face and limbs with cool water. It worked to reduce her fever. The instant he stopped, the fever came back. So he continued, never tiring in his duty to preserve her life.

  By the time her temperature broke, he couldn’t tell whether he cared for her out of duty or earnest concern. If he had to be honest, he liked her body relaxed as if his touch comforted her. And the way she smiled at the sound of his voice. Though she’d probably give a limb before admitting he affected her.

  She damn sure affected him. More than he liked. Too bad nothing would ever come of it.

  He covered her with a comforter and picked up the clothes he had stripped from her. The weight of her red leather coat stopped him. She’d mentioned to be careful of the blades.

  EJ patted down the pockets and found none. He moved to the sleeves, then lower. He struck gold at the bottom of the coat with the discovery of twelve slits. A release mechanism was secreted inside one of the sleeves. A tug and a row of blades dropped free.

  SWEET!

  Twelve openings. Ten blades excluding the one she’d used to slit her throat. He traced the flat surfaces with a finger in awe of the intricate workmanship. The weapons were ancient, crafted by a master. Where did she get them and where was the missing weapon? Another tug and the blades retracted.

  Wicked coat for a wicked woman. He expected no less.

  Seated next to the bed, he rested his eyes and tried to unplug his brain. For the first time since he’d entered the home of the Order, he was tired. Maybe the battle with Daniel had drained him. That dickless bastard needed to die. Painfully.

  A familiar tension gathered in the air, derailing the explicit images playing on the big screen in his brain. A vortex was about to open. His eyes snapped open, and he stood. Positioned in front of the bedroom door to protect Ridley, EJ waited to see who exited. He shielded his eyes from the blinding light that accompanied the vortex and the rush of frigid air.

  Two men stepped from the opening. Roman and Reign. Relief spread over Roman’s face, and he stepped toward EJ. Reign stopped him and whispered, “Something is awry. Why does he not move?”

  “Ridley must still control him.” Roman moved closer and peered around EJ into the bedroom.

  Ridley’s orders to protect her superseded any welcome he would’ve given the men. He studied Roman, allowed his brotherly embrace because he didn’t consider him a threat. Reign—new to the family—was still an unknown entity. His loyalty to his twin was undeniable; did that same loyalty extend to the rest of the family? To EJ?

  If he had his free will, EJ wouldn’t have questioned. He didn’t have his free will, and the small amount of doubt he had about Reign multiplied until he was deemed an unacceptable risk. EJ shoved Roman aside and stormed toward Reign. He locked both hands around Reign’s throat.

  EJ didn’t block the fist aimed at his chin but absorbed the blow that knocked his head back. He shook off the pain, as Reign freed himself and ducked under the next roundhouse. He slammed his shoulder into Reign’s abdomen. EJ lifted the taller, heavier man and flung him to the ground. He pinned him and then began a systemic assault on his face and neck. Reign blocked as best as he could instead of attacking.

  Roman wrapped an arm around EJ’s throat. Quickly, air became a precious commodity. Now, Roman became a threat. EJ brought his hands up, positioned his thumbs over Roman’s eyes, and grabbed his head. The move gave Roman two choices, release EJ, or lose his eyesight.

  “Cease or forfeit your life.” Reign had his black sword poised over EJ’s heart.

  If it were only so easy. The only way to stop him was to kill him. The order to protect Ridley was the only thing EJ’s mind accepted. This was not the way he wanted to die, at the hands of one he loved as a father and the other whom he’d begun to respect…but he had no choice. He pressed his thumbs into Roman’s eyes—earning an anguished cry— at the same time, he leaned into the blade.

  “STOP.”

  Every muscle in EJ’s body clenched onto his skeleton in a paralyzing grip. He recognized that voice and had never known such joy.

  “Release Roman now,” Avery ordered.

  Happily, EJ dropped his hands to his sides. Only then did he wonder how his brother had achieved the power to supplant Ridley’s orders.

  “Reign, remove your blade from my brother’s heart,” Avery ordered.

  EJ stared down into Reign’s blue eyes and the indecision raging within. He didn’t trust Avery, and he damn sure didn’t trust EJ. Who could blame him?

  “Drop the blade, Reign. It’s all right,” Roman said.

  Slowly, Reign eased the tip of the weapon from EJ’s chest. Roman released the pressure from EJ’s throat and backed away. EJ sucked in a few deep breaths and climbed off Reign. In unison, the three of them stood, and EJ faced Avery.

  Big, bald, and grim, his brother hadn’t changed. He’d never been able to completely mask his ‘kill you first, question you later’ persona. Only now, menace literally oozed from his pores as a toxic cloud undulated around him.

  What the hell happened to him? Fear slithered through EJ. Not of Avery, but for Avery. Back at the vault in the Order, Ridley said Avery had absorbed Khuket’s power. Called him the new God of Chaos. Is this what his brother had become?

  Avery crossed the room and pulled him into a fierce embrace and held him for an awkward moment while EJ stood, confused by the unknown, and emotionally overwhelmed, though he couldn’t show it. They’d never hugged like this. Never.

  “I found you,” Avery whispered so only EJ could hear.

  Yeah, you did. And damn, it felt good.

  ~~~~~~

  The dull ache in her muscles wasn’t new to Ridley. It signified she lived another day. The sand still trickled, counting down the unknown
number of hours left in her life. Eyes closed, she stretched her tender muscles and noticed the thin mattress under her back. Who could possibly sleep on this, she wondered, ungrateful for the temporary safe haven. She sighed, and the events of last night flickered through her mind.

  Ridley couldn’t believe it. She’d actually chosen EJ over the blade. The one thing that could save her life.

  What was I thinking? So close. Shit! I should’ve grabbed the blade. And left EJ.

  Ashamed, she winced. Now the pain lodged in the vicinity of her heart. Saving EJ was the right decision and she wasn’t sorry. There would be another chance. Now that she’d seen Daniel and touched him, she could track him. With her speed, stealing the Dagger would be easy. She wondered where EJ was but knew he wouldn’t be far. Having him near reassured her in a way she’d never imagined.

  Don’t get accustomed to it, girl.

  Ridley rolled onto her side, wanted to slip back into unconsciousness; instead, she finally allowed her eyelids to rise. A plain, brown wall greeted her. She didn’t question the person’s decorating tastes, though didn’t remember the walls being brown when they entered the home. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and squelched the unkind thoughts. Who was she to criticize someone else’s taste? She’d broken into the house for safety, not decorating tips.

  She only hoped the place had food because she was way past starved. Getting nicked by one of her blades didn’t kill her, just left her incapacitated for hours, sometimes days depending on the severity of the cut. A stabbing pain erupted between her eyes. Her fingers pressed to her temples, blocking her view, Ridley sat up slowly—and froze.

  She wasn’t alone. And it wasn’t EJ.

  Emeline sat, legs crossed, in a metal folding chair at the end of Ridley’s cot.

  Ridley’s chest tightened from the pounding of her heart. Fear would only slow her down, and right now, she needed every millisecond of speed. In her periphery, she took in the square-shaped room bare of everything, except for the cot she lay on and Emeline’s chair. Not the typical prison cell and not a room in the Order’s home.