Читать книгу Blood of the Sorceress - Maggie Shayne - Страница 9

After five weeks, Demetrius was finally beginning to feel at home in the mansion.

He was lying on the chaise on the balcony outside his third-floor suite, basking in the Arizona sun. Below him, scantily clad models and actresses and various hangers-on frolicked in the pool, in the fountains, in the spa. So did Gus.

So had he, at first. And for quite some time over the past five weeks. But now he was bored. And extremely restless.

“Excuse me, Mr. D?”

He didn’t blink. Didn’t turn. He’d come to rely on Sid, the limo-driver-slash-man-Friday, more and more. Sid explained things to him when he didn’t quite follow them and didn’t ask questions about why he didn’t quite follow them. He didn’t ask questions about anything. Not when Demetrius had sawed off the cast on the jet. Not when he’d managed to make a starlet he’d seen on a television show appear at his front door and, later, in his bed. And not when he’d left a pile of caviar cans with holes burned through their bottoms on the ground out back after target practice with his amazing double-edged blade. Nothing.

“What is it, Sid?”

Sid hesitated before answering, which made Demetrius curious enough to turn and look up at the young man. Sid had a caring nature, Demetrius thought. Why anyone would care about him, he couldn’t have said, but it seemed that Sid did. Or maybe that was just considered part of his job.

“Well?”

“I’ll get to it in a minute. First, if my asking doesn’t piss you off too much, why so morose?”

Demetrius averted his eyes.

“You look like your puppy just died.”

“I don’t have a puppy.”

A burst of air escaped Sid’s lips. “It’s an expression. You take everything so literally.” He hurried to the opposite chair and sat down. “You might feel better if you talked about what’s bothering you.”

By the Gods, Demetrius thought, he’d made a huge mistake in telling this one to relax and be himself and not behave so formally. Sid was acting like a confidant and best friend, even an advisor.

Then again, what harm would it do to share his restlessness with the boy? “I feel as if I am … missing something.”

“Ahh.” Sid nodded slowly, eyes falling closed. “The love of a good woman.”

“Oh, hell no.” He’d borrowed that phrase from Gus. It was one of his favorites.

“A good man? But you already told me you play for Team Straight.”

Demetrius rolled his eyes, laid his head back and ignored Sid’s attempts to draw him into humor. “I’ll try to explain, though I’m not entirely sure myself what’s making me feel this way. But … take last night for example. Everyone was raving about those steaks that Gus grilled for us.”

“They really were amazing, God protect my heart from my love of red meat.” Sid crossed himself, then looked at Demetrius again and tipped his head to one side. “You didn’t like them?”

“I didn’t see what there was to like. They tasted just like everything else. No better, no worse. As far as I can see, the only real variations in food are the differences in texture. Some is mushy, some is chewy, some is crisp, some is crumbly. But it all tastes the same. Some is a little bit sweet, some a little salty, but that’s about it.” He looked at Sid, saw the absolute disbelief in his eyes, the way his mouth gaped open. “Isn’t it?”

Sid snapped his jaw shut. “No, boss. It isn’t.”

Demetrius sat up, put his feet down on either side of the chaise and rubbed his chin. “And what about the sex?”

Sid coughed, reached for Demetrius’s glass and helped himself to a sip of soda liberally spiked with vodka. He made a face. “Gawd, that’s strong. How many of these have you had?”

“Six. And I feel nothing. No different. I’ve seen the way others react to large quantities of alcohol, but not me. I have a feeling this is all connected. So tell me about the sex, Sid. And be honest. What does it … what does it feel like?”

Sid set the glass down, his face going completely serious. “Haven’t you had sex, boss?”

“Numerous times. I should have asked, what is it supposed to feel like?”

“Amazing. Incredible. Like nothing else can feel, so there’s nothing to compare it to. It’s like …” Sid searched his mind for a comparison, then snapped his fingers when he got one. “It’s like an earthquake in your crotch. A really good earthquake. Isn’t it like that for you?”

“No earthquake. More like a bump, like hitting a pot hole in the limo.”

“Oh.”

“I wanted a life of sheer pleasure,” Demetrius said, thinking aloud. “But I’m beginning to think there’s a price to be paid for the gifts I’ve already received. I think I might be incapable of experiencing the pleasure all around me. It’s as if the curse lives on.”

“The curse?” Sid got up. “Come on, Mr. D. There’s no curse.”

“I know perfectly well Gus told you about me. Where I come from.”

Sid was silent for a long moment, which never happened. Then at last he admitted, “He told me where you said you come from.”

“I was imprisoned in a dimension of darkness and sensory deprivation. By whom, or for what crime, I have no idea. I had no form, no shape, no physicality. Only consciousness, endless consciousness. And the knowledge that one day I would escape—”

“With the help of three witches,” Sid whispered.

Demetrius nodded.

“Frankly, sir, I thought Gus was a little crazy. Harmless crazy, but still, completely nuts, you know?” Sid drew a circle around one ear with a forefinger. “If you believe it, too, though—well, that scares me.”

Demetrius searched Sid’s face. “Why would my insanity be any more frightening than Gus’s?”

“’Cause you’re not Gus.” Sid shrugged and averted his eyes.

Demetrius heaved a deep sigh and got to his feet, noticing that Sid took a step closer to the French doors that led back inside the mansion. “What was it you came to tell me?”

“Oh. Right. Well, there’s a man who keeps calling. A priest.”

Demetrius felt a frisson of fury race up his spine, and the thought that accompanied it was, I detest priests. But he didn’t know why he should feel that way. “What does he want?”

“He refuses to tell me. Says he can only talk to you, but that he has information you need.” Sid shrugged. “I figure he’s going to try to save your soul and change your sinful ways, or maybe he’s just looking for a hefty donation. But he’s been so persistent that I finally took his number and promised to pass it along. I sent it to your smartphone.”

“Thank you, Sid.”

Sid sighed, started to go back inside, then hesitated. “You probably shouldn’t mention all that Underworld stuff, or the three witches or the rest of it to anyone, okay, boss?”

“Gus told me much the same thing when were in New York. Don’t worry, Sid. I’ll keep it to myself from now on.”

“Okay. Good. Later, boss.”

“Later, Sid.”

He sat there for a long moment, thinking. He wondered why he hated priests, and why one was trying to contact him now. He wondered where the third witch had gone after she’d flashed into existence in that alley—for that was surely who she had to be. He hadn’t been able to shake her from his mind since. He saw her every time he closed his eyes and in the face of every woman he bedded. She haunted his dreams, dancing exotically in ribbons of sheer fabric on the desert sands. Seducing him with her eyes. What did she have in store for him? And what was she waiting for?

And now there was a new player in this game of his earthbound existence. A priest. Demetrius wondered what information the priest had for him and realized there was only one way to find out. So he took out his smartphone, a device that frankly amazed him with its capabilities, pulled up the text message Sid had sent and then called the number.

When a male voice answered, deep and raspy, another inexplicable shiver crept up his spine.

“Hello. This is—”

“I know who this is,” the priest said. “I’ve been waiting for your call.”

Demetrius blinked down the odd sense of revulsion that rose in him. He didn’t know this man, so why should he feel so repelled?

It was as irrational as his fear of the woman who’d appeared in the alley. The witch. He’d been struck with such terror at the sight of her that he’d run away, straight into the path of Ned Nelson’s car.

Then again, he wouldn’t have all of this—this mansion, this lifestyle—if he hadn’t. He’d expected the third witch’s task would be to help him make his way in this world. And in a way, that was exactly what she had done. Maybe she was finished, then. Maybe he would never see her again.

The thought twisted his heart into a painful knot that confused him even more.

“Demetrius?” said the voice on the phone.

“Who are you? How do you know about me?” he demanded.

“I’m a priest, my son. You may call me Father Dom. I know your story. I know about your time in the Underworld. I know about the two witches who helped you escape. And I know about the third one, who will soon come for you yet again. She’ll offer you something, that witch. Something you must refuse or you will end up back where you started.”

Demetrius narrowed his eyes as suspicion blossomed and whispered a warning into his ear. Despite that, he couldn’t deny the relief that had preceded it. She’s coming back. Thank the Gods. “How do you know this?”

“Let me come to you and I’ll explain it all, my son.”

Demetrius thought about that and decided it would be all right. It wasn’t as if a mortal priest could do him any harm, after all. He had the dagger, and he was strong. Immortal. An ordinary man couldn’t hurt him. “Where are you?” he asked.

“I’m standing at your front gate.”

Demetrius couldn’t prevent his slight gasp, and he was sure the priest heard it. He rose from his chair, walked to the edge of the balcony and looked down the hill. A thin, frail-looking man with white hair stood just beyond the gate. He wore a black suit with a white collar. As he looked, the man waved, and Demetrius suppressed an involuntary shiver.

Looking down at his phone, he sent a text message to Sid.

Man at front gate. Bring him to me.

Spring was coming to Milbury, New York. There were only a few days left in April, and the snow was long gone. The rains came heavily and often, but left days in between their soaking visits for the sun to reign supreme. Daffodils and tulips surrounded Magdalena’s big old house at Havenwood, and the trees around Indy and Tomas’s cabin were covered in newborn leaves, still small and pale, but growing rapidly. Much like Ellie, now nearly three months old, with chubby cheeks and frequent smiles, and red curls just starting to twist to life all over her little head.

Lilia had grown to love it there, among her family, though the entire time she had been fighting the constant pull of Demetrius. The part of his soul she held inside her wanted to return to him, wanted to reunite with the rest of the pieces and become whole again.

So she’d been biding her time, trying to be completely present in the moments she was given. Loving her sisters and “their” mother, her brothers-in-law and Tomas’s sister, Rayne, who was a frequent visitor. Loving her baby niece. Those things distracted her a little from the dire challenge she would soon face. But always it waited in the back of her mind like a demon to torment her nights and add to the already huge heartache of missing her beloved. When must she leave her family? Would she ever see them again once she did? Would Demetrius let her win his trust again? What if she failed?

And then, one night it just happened. Her eyes popped open an hour before dawn, and she simply knew. It’s time. Her heart seemed to jump a little inside her chest, just for an instant. It felt like a trapped bird, flapping excitedly.

She pushed back the covers and got up, unable to wait. She would take a shower, pack her things, all of them beautiful gifts from her newfound family, and be downstairs when Indy and Tomas awoke, so she could break the news. Then they would go down to Lena’s place together and tell everyone else. It wasn’t going to go down easily. They loved her so much.

As it turned out, however, she didn’t need to tell them. When she came down, showered and dressed, her long hair hanging in a braid over one shoulder, wearing a white sundress and a turquoise cardigan, she didn’t see Indy and Tomas pouring coffee as she’d expected.

There were only her two sisters waiting for her, and she knew by the dampness on their cheeks that they already realized she would have to leave them today.

Lena hugged her hard, sniffling. Indy went next, saying, “I don’t know why you won’t let us go with you. You’re stubborn as hell.”

Lilia gnawed her lip, tempted. “He’s far away. I don’t even know where. But when I get there, I’ll let you know.” She held up the cell phone Lena had bought her. She’d been added to their family plan and would forever be grateful. “And if I need you, I’ll phone you.”

“Be on guard, Lilia,” Indy said. “We still don’t know where Father Dom is, and if he’s recovered his health, he could be dangerous. Trust me on this. Bastard almost killed me.”

“I know. I’ll be careful.”

Lena took her by the hand and led her to the kitchen table, where a large map of the United States was spread out. From her pocket she took a black velvet drawstring pouch, then pulled a long length of chain from it. At the end of the chain hung a cone-shaped amethyst pendulum.

“Show me Demetrius,” she said, and then she held the chain over the northeastern section of the map. The amethyst was still at first, but slowly it began to swing from side to side, its momentum making it sweep wider each time.

Snapping it up into her palm, Lena moved to the southeastern part of the country and repeated the procedure with the same results. Ditto to the Midwest, the center of the country, the Northwest, and the West Coast. It was only when she suspended the pendulum over the Southwest that it began to move in a different way. Not back and forth this time, but in ever widening circles.

“He’s in the Southwest,” Lena said.

Lilia nodded, her eyes on the map as Lena stopped the pendulum and glanced at Indy, who brought her a pair of scissors. She cut the map into pieces, cutting out Arizona, New Mexico, Utah, Nevada and Colorado, then spreading the states out on the table. Then Lena repeated the process, holding the pendulum over each one. She got a positive result over Arizona and lifted her head, looking at her sisters.

“It’s a start,” Indy said.

“Thank you. It’ll save a lot of time. And once I get there, I’ll know which direction to go. I’ll feel him.”

“I’ll cut the state up into sections and call you when I get more details,” Magdalena said. “Just in case you need to narrow it down.”

“Thank you,” Lilia said softly.

Indy was typing on her laptop computer by then, and nodded. “There’s a flight to Phoenix leaving in three hours.”

“Then I should be on it.” Lilia brushed away tears she couldn’t help shedding. By the Goddess, she hoped she would see her sisters, her family, again. But she knew too well that if this didn’t go well, she might not. Not in this lifetime, at least.

This might be goodbye.

So she held them a long time when she hugged them, then held them again after the huge breakfast Selma insisted on making for her. Saying goodbye to the woman she accepted as her mother in every way that mattered was painful. Seeing Selma’s tears was almost too much to take.

And then her sisters drove her to the airport and walked her to the security checkpoint, which was as far as they could go.

Magdalena kissed her cheek. “Come back to us, okay? You have to come back to us.”

“If it looks like he’s gonna refuse,” Indy said, “call while there’s still time, so I can come try to … persuade his sorry ass.”

“I will.”

“You’d better.”

“I … love you both so much,” Lilia said. “You kept your vow to me, to him, even when it nearly cost you everything. I’m so grateful to you for that. And for taking me in now, so many lifetimes later. For everything you’ve done for me. Teaching me how to live in this time, the quirks of the language, how to dress, buying me clothes, the phone, lending me money. So much money.”

“Hey, Lena married a billionaire,” Indy said. “Ryan can afford it.”

“Still …” Lilia looked at the clock. “I have to go.”

“Say the word and we’ll be there,” Magdalena said. “Goddess, Lil, I don’t want you to go.”

“We haven’t come this far to fail now, brave sisters. Trust me, we will be together again. And soon.”

As she turned to make her way through the security check, Lilia wished she felt as sure of that as she had sounded.

Demetrius looked out from his balcony over the property and remembered Father Dom’s arrival three days ago. The old priest had waved a hand expressively to indicate the beautiful grounds spread out below the small patio table where the two of them had been sitting over coffee. “This place is like a fantasy come true,” he’d said with a nod. “Obviously you’ve figured out how to use your … powers already.”

Demetrius, who’d been sitting across the table from the old man, had tried to read his face. He didn’t know Father Dom, hadn’t trusted him, and he’d had no intention of giving anything away. But he’d very definitely wanted to know what the old cleric knew, or thought he knew, about him.

“I wished for this. Visualized it in great detail. And it came to me. Is that what you mean by my … powers?”

“You have the chalice and the blade,” the old man said. “Using the two together can bring desires and ideas, anything from the astral plane, into physical form. Did you use them before you acquired all this?”

“I was messing around with them.” Demetrius shrugged, unwilling to reveal that he’d performed a rite according to a voice in his head, a female voice, and that he had apparently brought her into physical form from the astral plane, as well. And yes, all of this, too. But first, her.

“Have you noticed any other powers attached to those tools of yours?”

“The chalice and the blade?”

“And the amulet, of course.” The priest nodded at the piece Demetrius wore around his neck.

So he knew about that, as well. “They have other powers?”

“That’s what I was asking you. Do they?”

“Not that I’m aware of.” It was a blatant lie. “Are they supposed to?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” the priest lied back.

And it was a lie. The old man knew. Demetrius was sure of it. That priest knew the blade could blast energy like a laser, could set things on fire and even blow them up. And he must know what the amulet did, as well. He was dying to ask.

All in good time, though. I have to be careful. Men would kill to possess tools like these.

“You said you knew about me, about where I come from,” Demetrius said, choosing his words with care.

The priest nodded slowly. “Everything that has brought you to where you now find yourself springs from another lifetime, Demetrius. A lifetime in the distant past. You have been human before, you know.”

“Have I?” He had to hold himself still in his seat, will himself not to lean forward and gaze at the old priest in rapt interest. He tried to keep a cool demeanor, to relax and not look too eager.

“You lived in ancient Babylon, in the sixteenth century, BC.”

A flash came and went in his mind. Swirling veils, bronze-skinned bellies, feminine arms twisting like snakes. Dancers in the desert. Just like his dreams. The blonde woman, she’d been there—though she hadn’t been a blonde then. And two others with her. The three witches?

“What did I … do there?” he asked, aiming for a skeptical, nearly bored, tone.

“You were the First Soldier of King Balthazorus,” the priest said. He lowered his head as he said the name, the way Demetrius had observed other people did when mentioning someone they’d known who had died.

“I was a Babylonian soldier. Fascinating.” He tried to sound amused, as if the notion were silly. But deep down he felt a stirring of … something. Memory?

“You were seduced and then betrayed by three women. Witches, all of them. Slaves in the King’s harem.”

So they had been there with him, those three. Those same three, they had to be. Was that why they had to help him now? Because they had betrayed him in some long ago existence he didn’t even remember? Or want to remember.

“What did these … witches … want with me?” he asked at length.

“What any witch wants. Power. They wanted power over you. For though they lived in luxury, they were, after all, slaves. Owned by the King, forced to serve him for his pleasures. They wanted what any enslaved person wants. Freedom.”

“Freedom,” Demetrius repeated. He knew about wanting freedom. He’d wanted it even before he’d known what it was.

“They used their charms to seduce you to the point where you would do anything for them. Even murder the King you were sworn to serve. Which you did, my friend. Which you did.”

“I murdered the King?”

There was another flash in his mind. An ornate room that belonged in a palace, golden relics and rich fabrics everywhere. Exotic oil lamps out of one of the tales about Ali Baba sent thick black ribbons of smoke into the air. A bearded man stood before him, shaking his head sadly while Demetrius struggled against the soldiers who held his arms.

“You cannot have them killed! Blame me for this. Take my life, not theirs. Not Lilia’s!”

But the King wouldn’t even look him in the eye. “You betrayed me. You, my most trusted soldier. My … my friend …” When the King finally raised his eyes they glinted with fury. “They die.”

“No!”

Demetrius ripped free of his captors and yanked the blade from one soldier’s belt. He lunged forward, brandishing the dagger before him, and he heard the slight hiss of the razor-sharp edge slicing the air—and then the King’s throat.

It happened so fast. Blood from Balthazorus’s neck sprayed like water from an elephant’s trunk, and Demetrius’s arms flew up in front of his face as its warmth spattered him. The man he’d sworn to serve, his friend, dropped to his knees, one hand grasping uselessly at his blood-pulsing throat, his mouth working soundlessly, eyes wide with shock.

Demetrius moved forward, falling to his own knees. The knife fell from his numb hand. “No. No, I didn’t mean—”

The King toppled sideways and lay still, and the blood flow slowed as his body emptied itself. Only then did the guards snap out of their shocked paralysis. One shouted, “Fetch the high priest,” and another brought the hilt of his sword down across the back of Demetrius’s head.

A soft hand patted the back of Demetrius’s neck and snapped him out of the vision or memory or whatever it had been.

“Are you all right, my son?” Father Dom asked.