Horn of the Unicorn Page 18

  Chilly and dim, the room boasted only a single flickering torch and a narrow bench where Zarnak sat with his back braced against the wall, holding Tess upon his lap, wrapped safely within the circle of his arms. The air was heavy with silence, but they did not speak. They simply waited, taking comfort in the warmth of the other’s body, until the door finally opened and a tall man stood in the archway, his brawny arms folded casually across his broad, bronzed chest. He wore nothing more than a pair of black pants that molded his powerful thighs, along with high black boots—and Tess tried not to gasp as she instantly recognized him from her dreams of Emily.

  He entered the room with arrogant authority—a hard, powerful figure—and her heart lurched with fear at the thought of her little sister being alone with this intimidating creature.

  “Where is Emily?” she demanded, moving from the security of Zarnak’s arms to stand, feeling him rise to his full height behind her, one hand upon her shoulder.

  The man tilted his head to the side as he studied her with piercing green eyes, his gaze moving curiously over the flushed features of her face, then said, “In my rooms, but I am having her brought to the Chamber for your challenge.” His voice was deep, rich and husky, as if he’d spent too many years shouting in war.

  Yes, Tess could very well imagine this man roaring out orders upon a bloody battlefield, swinging his sword as he slashed at his enemies with brute force and violent passion. He was built like a soldier, with muscles over muscles—hard, solid slabs of them stretched taut beneath the dark skin of his wide chest and ripped abdomen—and yet, he didn’t look overblown. He wasn’t…bulky. No, he moved with a fluid, lethal grace that one would have expected to see in a stalking predator. In fact, he was mesmerizing, she grudgingly admitted, in a dark, dangerous, deadly way. Tess’ stomach tightened as she recalled the chaotic tumble of feelings that had swirled through Emily for this man who served the devil herself.

  “Did you touch her?” she asked in a stiff, hoarse voice.

  His lips twisted into what might have been a smile, though the expression never quite reached those brilliant green eyes. “I could have raped her,” he said with a dark laugh, “but she is hardly to my taste.” The corners of his mouth twisted then, and he added, “She almost looks more child than woman.”

  Tess didn’t argue that in her dream, he had hardly been staring at Emily like a child. No, she had recognized his look as nothing short of feral, sexual hunger for her very much grown-up little sister, but she also wasn’t foolish enough to argue with him over it. If he’d managed to fight and deny his lust for Emily, for whatever reason, she was going to be thankful and leave it bloody well alone.

  “It’s time for you to follow me,” he said then, abruptly putting an end to her interrogation. He turned, fully expecting them to do as he announced and follow. Zarnak nudged her ahead with his hand in the small of her back, and they followed the black-haired soldier through a series of dim corridors until they reached a large, open chamber that was lit by roaring towers of fire in each of its four corners, the roof partly open to allow the cloud-streaked red of the sky to burn through, those demonic birdlike shapes drifting like haunting silhouettes against the dark blood color above. Towering stands packed with a motley assortment of cheering, bellowing spectators lined the chamber’s sides, and on the far end, upon a raised dais of black marble shot through with crimson veins, sat an impossibly tall woman upon a colossal throne of dark mahogany. The high back of the wide chair had been carved into the fearsome head of a dragon, its wide wings rising into the air, flanking the sides, so that it looked as if the wooden creature was about to carry her off in flight.

  And on the far end of the dais, huddled in the shadows of a flapping banner depicting a monstrous black dragon with deadly claws and fire bellowing from its gaping jaws, sat Emily. Tess started the moment she spotted her, ready to run across the raucous chamber, but Zarnak gripped her arm, his fingers biting into her skin in warning to remain at his side. She glared at him, then stared hard at Emily, who had risen to her knees at the sight of them. She was still dressed in the jeans and pale pink sweater she had been wearing when they had set off for Ireland, her wild curls tangled around her fey, tear-streaked face. She smiled tremulously at Tess and mouthed silently, “I’m so sorry.”

  Tess shook her head, her throat clogged with emotion, and tried to send her a look that conveyed strength and love.

  “Thank you, Alyx,” a low, sultry voice called out over the roaring of the crowd, and the sound hissed across Tess’ skin with an unsettling sensation, like a serpent’s slithering body. With a gasp, she jerked her gaze from Emily to the terrifying image of the woman sitting upon her beastly throne. The Blood Goddess slipped a shimmering cloak of silver and gold from her shoulders, then smiled, the twin, sharp points of her incisors peeking wickedly from between her lips as she said, “You may take your place.”

  The man named Alyx walked to the edge of the dais, and Tess took a moment more to study him. As they had followed him in the dim corridors, she had glimpsed, all across his broad shoulders, the same artistry as that she had observed on the stairs leading down to the Dragon Lands. She’d been unable to piece together the symbols until they’d entered the chamber and he’d stopped just before her, facing the Goddess. Only then did she realize that the symbols actually created an image of a dragon, the magnificent head lying upon his large left biceps, the scaled body sprawling across his broad shoulders, and the long, spiked tail wrapping around the corded length of his right arm. Without doubt, he was intimidating—and yet, strangely beautiful, with his bronzed skin and ebony hair that looked warm and soft. Like silken mink, it curled around his strong, chiseled face, his features far too handsome for her peace of mind, despite the cruel cut of his mouth, the arrogant line of his nose. He was scarred from battle, and those damn eyes were the most piercing green she had ever seen, as if they had been stolen from the purest grass and set within his head with an angel’s touch.

  But he was no goddamn angel.

  Though he was indeed beautiful, Tess could feel the evil surrounding him, like a second skin that coated his flesh. And from the tension vibrating through Zarnak, she doubted he felt much differently about the soldier who’d been holding her sister.

  So then what in hell were they going to do about her? Emily, the little heartsick fool, jumped to her feet the moment Alyx climbed the steep steps encompassing the entire front half of the raised marble platform, and Tess could only stare as the grim-faced soldier moved to Emily’s side, standing with his feet braced and his powerful arms crossed over his chest. Even from the distance separating them, Tess could see that Emily’s big blue-grey eyes glistened with tears and her ruby mouth trembled with emotion. Tess tried to assure her with a look that everything was going to be okay, but Emily only shook her head sadly, and moved to stand closer to Alyx. He turned his head and looked down at her, his green gaze cold and hard, yet she stared unblinkingly up at him—and it did not take a mind reader to see that Emily Laurent was all but dazed by the Goddess’ soldier.

  Damn it! What was the little fool thinking? Did she not see that he cared nothing for her?

  “He’s a very bad man, isn’t he?” Tess asked softly, for Zarnak’s ears only.

  “I do not know his heart,” he answered quietly at her side, his eyes never leaving the figure of the Goddess as she settled herself more comfortably upon her throne, still ignoring their presence. She wore a diaphanous robe of silken black material that curled around her pale limbs and the thick legs of the majestic seat as if the ends were comprised of long, slithering tentacles. Their slow, sensuous wriggling made Tess squirm, as if she could feel them inching wetly along her skin. “But he is a henchman for one of the devils herself.”

  Her mouth turned down at his words, for that was exactly what she had been thinking, but then her thoughts snagged on a particular phrase.

  “Devils? As in plural? You mean there’s more than one bad guy…or girl…or Goddess?
” she gritted out in a low hiss that could barely be heard over the strange, disturbing chanting of the crowd, their guttural, rasping language one she did not recognize but which sounded eerie enough to creep her out. Not that this entire place didn’t creep her out, she silently snorted, but then one hardly expected to be charmed by hell. “More than one of whatever the hell she is?”

  Tess simply couldn’t believe that he was only getting around to telling her this now! Christ, she wanted to kick him in his bloody shin for never bothering to mention it before.

  “Yes, unfortunately, there are,” he sighed, and though his words were for Tess, his watchful eyes never left the Goddess. “It is my fault for not explaining to you earlier, little one, for I must remind myself that you are not familiar with my world, since it seems as if you have been a part of me for so long. But the Lower Realms are ruled by the sole remaining elders of an ancient tribe, each one more evil than the next. They are the Goddesses of Blood and Darkness, of Death, Plague, and Destruction. To be honest, there are even more, but we’ve not the time to go on about them all.”

  Her mind spun with the enormity of it. “Then we can never defeat them all,” she whispered, her voice heavy with despair.

  “No,” Zarnak murmured gently, turning for a brief moment to smile down at her. “There cannot be an absence of evil, just as there cannot be an absence of good. Our world is a duality, Tess, and there must always be a flipside to the coin. Love and hate. Life and death. Good and evil. Peace and war. Without one, the other simply does not exist.”

  “Well,” she muttered, thinking of her uncle, “I hope we can at least deprive her of one spineless little minion.”

  Before Zarnak could agree with her, the Goddess motioned for one of her guards to move closer, spoke briefly in his ear, and Tess watched as the man descended the steps and walked toward them. “It is time for your challenge,” he said without inflection, and Tess had the feeling that he was hollow, without a soul. Nothing more than an empty, lifeless shell to mindlessly do the Goddess’ bidding.

  Clutching Zarnak’s hand, she said, “Let’s go and make our challenge, and get Emily the hell out of here.”

  “No.”

  She had started to move forward, but jerked to a stop at that one word, turning to look back at him. He hadn’t moved a single step. He just stood there, staring down at her with burning, absolute intensity. “What do you mean?” she asked, aware that her voice now shook.

  “I offer my challenge alone, Tess.” His voice came hard, low, heavy with command. “You wait for me here.”

  She blinked, wondering if she had heard him wrong. “Are you crazy?”

  “Hardly,” he growled.

  “If you care for me,’” she panted, staring into the searing blue intensity of his gaze, “even a little, then you will not ask me for the impossible. I will not let you go before her alone, Zarn.”

  He looked at her as if he could not believe his ears. “If I care for you a little?” he rasped, the words almost too low to hear. “You are my life…will be so for all eternity, and you ask if I care for you a little? Perhaps the real question should be how much you care for me!”

  “If you would but give me your trust, Zarnak,” she answered with all honesty, “then what you seek would be yours. It already lives inside me, but I will not give it freely knowing you believe me less than worthy.”

  “Worthy?” he grated, his voice raw. “This isn’t about you being worthy, Tess. It is about you trusting me to deal with something that you have no place being a part of. Svarqak, woman, you are no soldier!”

  Knots of frustration twisted her stomach. “It’s true that I’m not as physically strong or experienced as you, but why can’t you see that together we will be so much more powerful than alone?”

  His beautiful mouth flattened with savage emotion, the deep blue of his gaze shadowed like a storm-darkened sky. “Because I cannot fight when I am eaten with worry that you’re in harm’s way. Why is that so fucking hard for you to understand, Tess?”

  “Zarnak, we’re in hell.” She laughed a harsh, dry sound of disbelief. “What makes you think I’ll be safe if you leave my side to go and fight without me?”

  “Your safety is assured so long as you do not break the rules of the land. They will not dare harm you.”

  She shook her head in confusion. “Evil cannot have morality, Zarnak.”

  “Damn it, will you just listen to me. It’s not about morality, it’s about rules, and even hell is governed by them. Now are you going to do as I say or do I have to put you over my knee in front of everyone here?”

  Her eyes narrowed at the threat. She breathed deeply for a moment, aware of the avid attention of all those around them, and finally whispered, “At least let me stand by your side until the fight begins, and then I will step away.”

  He stared, clearly disbelieving.

  “I give you my word, Zarnak,” she said softly. “On my parents’ grave.”

  He blew out a frustrated breath, but clasped her hand tighter, wrapping her in his hold. “Very well,” he rasped in her ear, his warm breath shivering across her sensitive skin, “but if you do not move when I tell you to, I’m thrashing you myself, audience or not.”

  “I promise,” she whispered, and they began making their way across the murky, viscous, moss-covered ground. As they neared the dais, the details of the Goddess became clearer, and Tess realized that she was the perfect picture of evil. Exquisite in a hard, cruel way, her face shone white as death, the wide line of her mouth crimson, like blood, and her tilted eyes glittered with the brilliance of twin black diamonds—just as hard, just as cold. Her long, ebony hair flowed around her like a living thing, the curling ends wrapping around her hips and thighs like the caressing fingers of a lover, and when she smiled, Tess could see the twin tips of her long, lethal incisors gleaming whitely against the blood-red of her lips.

  Tess shivered, and the malevolent woman laughed when she witnessed her reaction. “Explain to me again why you believe we can trust her?” she muttered beneath her breath.

  “Because even the devil herself is bound by the laws of hell, Tess,” he answered. “Look to the right of her throne, little one.”

  Her gaze moved, and she saw the thin, pasty figure of her uncle. And in that moment, she knew that something was terribly wrong. Not that anything could be right, she mentally groaned, when in hell, but this wasn’t something she’d expected.

  “Zarn,” she said tightly, “there’s something different about him. Something…preserved, if that makes any sense. She’s done something to him.”

  The warrior at her side studied the figure of her uncle with a cool gaze, missing nothing. “She’s let him take blood.”

  Tess didn’t like the sound of that. “She’s what?”

  “She’s let him feed from her veins. Her blood, in doses, will make a mortal man powerful, fearless and aggressive.”

  “Ah, like evil testosterone,” she muttered. “Great. This is just peachy. Any other good news?”

  “Yeah,” Zarnak murmured, “he’s going to be harder to kill now, depending on how much he has taken.”

  “Well of course he is,” she choked, and her face felt so brittle with terror that she was amazed it didn’t crack when she spoke. “I tried to tell you that you were going to need my help, but I won’t say I told you so.”

  He sighed heavily. “You just did, but I did not say that he could beat me, Tess. Simply that he would not be so easy to kill. It will be a fair fight, and honestly I prefer it this way. I’ve no desire to strike down a sickened old man, no matter how evil he is. At least this way I’m going to be able to enjoy it,” he added with a hard smile, and Tess only wished that she could share his confidence.

  But that was impossible. She understood Montgomery for what he truly was, and she knew he’d fight with none of the honor that would govern Zarnak’s actions. No, her lover was going to need all the help he could get, and as she spotted the serpent-headed dagger secur
ed at her uncle’s waist, she suddenly remembered the dagger tied to her thigh. Lifting the edge of her skirt, Tess quickly pulled it free and tucked it back within the top of Zarnak’s boot, where it belonged.

  “You’re going to need this more than I will,” she said, giving him a tremulous smile. “And remember, don’t trust him, Zarn. If anything…if anything happens to you,” she stammered thickly, “I’ll never forgive you.”

  “I love you too,” he laughed softly, and lowered his mouth to press a quick, fierce kiss upon her lips. “Have faith, Tess.”

  She nodded as the Goddess motioned Montgomery forward, and he walked with a surer step than Tess had ever seen him use. Zarnak motioned her to the side of the arena, and she went, reluctantly moving to take a place beneath the surrounding wall that made up the bottom portion of the stands. Above her head the crowds roared as Zarnak loudly declared his challenge against the Chancellor of The Order of Dragomaene, and she watched as her uncle descended the steps, the two men moving to the center of that foul field that reeked of misery and death, of nightmares and terror.

  Zarnak gave her a long, meaningful look, his heart clearly revealed in that mesmerizing blue landscape, then turned to his opponent. They circled one another, and Montgomery puffed up his chest, calling out, “You will fight me for the life of my niece as a Death Courter, and though your power may be strong, you will not prevail. For the Blood Goddess’ might knows no equal.”

  “Or so you say,” Zarnak drawled casually, clearly unimpressed, and Tess could see him testing the weight of his sword in his mighty hand, the heavy steel obviously no strain for the power of his muscles.

  But then Montgomery drew his own sword, and she wanted to throw up as the battle began, with her uncle making a lunging move toward Zarnak’s middle that he swiftly outmaneuvered. Tess painfully dug her nails into the vulnerable flesh of her palms, felt her teeth sink into the trembling curve of her lower lip, and with her heart in her throat, she watched the battle unfold.