Daughter of Gods and Shadows (31 page)

They continued strolling for a while longer before he asked the next question.

“What is the second Omen?”

“Ah! The second Omen is his rage. It's strong and chaotic. Angry and vicious. But it's that part of him that has no sympathy or empathy. It's the part of him that's the most destructive, the warrior in him, and without the first Omen, it would rip the Redeemer in two.”

“The first Omen can control the second?”

“It must. For the Redeemer to survive the second bond, she has to discover this. She has to know it, or the second Omen will undoubtedly kill her.”

“And what is the third Omen?”

They stopped walking, and Andromeda turned to face him. “The third Omen is his passion, Kifo.”

Kifo was confused. “Passion? I don't understand. Passion seems silly, Andromeda. Sakarabru has telepathic abilities; he's got the power of influence. How would his passion serve the Redeemer in his destruction?”

“Think of it as his ego. It is the audacity of the Demon that gives him his power. Sakarabru is able to do what he does because his ego is massive. He desires to do these things and he's driven to do them because they please and satisfy his true nature. His pure nature is evil, Kifo. And that is all it is. Without this third Omen, the Redeemer is simply a very introverted girl prone to fits of destruction. The third Omen makes her believe in the powers she possesses. It gives her the confidence that she has every right to use her abilities to whatever end she sees fit. She has to be poised to understand the depth of her powers and that it is her right to destroy the Demon and her privilege.”

Kifo thought for a moment. “In this case, the end she should see is the end of Sakarabru.”

Andromeda winked. “That's the plan.”

“But … why her? Why couldn't any one of us make these bonds with the Omens to defeat Sakarabru? I could've made them. Knowing what I know now, I would've. Mkombozi was just a royal. This reborn is just a human. My mystical powers are unmatched, Andromeda. Someone like me could've ended this long ago.”

Andromeda pressed a warm hand to his face. “But you are not his child, Kifo. You are not his flesh and blood. Mkombozi, and now Eden, are natural extensions of Sakarabru. Imagine that they are all pieces of the same puzzle. Of course they fit. The Redeemer is and has always been an extension of her father. And they will fit until the very end, until not only the destruction of the Demon is complete but the destruction of the Omens as well.”

“What do you mean?”

She smiled, looped her arm in his, and began walking again. “I mean that Sakarabru's destruction is only a part of a much bigger adventure. And your role in it has just begun.”

Andromeda lay in a heap on the floor looking nothing like the pretty woman he'd brought here. She wasn't moving. Sakarabru motioned for someone to bring him a drink, which he guzzled greedily. He looked over at Kifo and raised his glass in a toast, then nodded at the pile that was Andromeda.

“She never ceases to amaze me,” he said, breathless. “Sometimes, I get the feeling that she enjoys our visits as much as I do.”

Kifo felt like vomiting. “Did she tell you where to find the Omen?” he struggled to ask.

Sakarabru laughed. “Weren't you paying attention, Djinn?” Sakarabru finished what was left of his drink. “She
is
the Omen.”

He came over to Kifo and towered over him. Kifo noticed that the Demon didn't stand as tall as he had when he was first brought back. Sakarabru's stamina wasn't very impressive either. He tired easily, and the weight of this atmosphere was starting to affect him the way it had affected all of them when they'd first come to this world.

“I think we have just found our advantage, my friend.” Sakarabru placed a bloody hand on Kifo's stark white sports jacket. “If the Redeemer wants to make her bond, then she'll have to come here to do it,” he said menacingly. “You're the only one I trust, Kifo. Bring me my little reborn. Convince her that you know where the third Omen is.”

Kifo looked stunned. “She won't believe me, Sakarabru.”

“Make her.” He thought for a moment and then suddenly came up with what seemed like a more reasonable idea. “Tell Khale where it is,” Sakarabru finally said. “She'll see to it that the reborn comes for it.”

“Here? You expect Khale to come here?” Kifo asked. “She'll suspect a trap.”

Sakarabru considered what Kifo had said. “Yankee Stadium,” he finally said, looking at Kifo and grinning. “Tell her that the Omen is in Yankee Stadium.”

Kifo nodded. “Yankee Stadium.”

 

TROUBLE ON THE WAY

There was something strangely melancholy about coming to an end of a thing. Sakarabru had been living on the edge of a precipice for far longer than he should have been. He had been born for one purpose, and that was to rule, his way, in his world. But fate obviously had other plans for him, and Sakarabru was here now, in this new world, but the one constant remained. To rule was his destiny.

This place disgusted him. Sakarabru's shoes were covered in the debris of disobedience and failure. Paul Chapman had proven to embody both. What was left of the Brood lay shredded on the floor at Sakarabru's feet. He had failed to stop the reborn from bonding with the other Omens and let her live for the opportunity to make the final connection.

Sakarabru squatted to look into what used to be Paul Chapman's face and shook his head, disappointed. “I had such high hopes for you, Brood. You were to have been my greatest general. But you failed me.”

The beast wallowed in his own piss and weakness and the Demon desperately needed a shower.

*   *   *

“I should wash your back.” Lilith appeared as if by magic in the shower behind Sakarabru.

The succubus had always been there for him, in whatever way he needed her. And she'd waited here for his return, all these many years later. She and Kifo had been loyal to him, unwavering and unquestioning.

He sighed as she slathered soap over his back, down his arms and legs, across his buttocks. Naturally, she paid special attention to his balls and cock. Lilith was an impossible habit for any creature to break once he or she had had a sample of her. She was the nectar where he was the thorn. She was the prize at the end of a long and agonizing journey. Lilith could be whatever an individual wished her to be. To Sakarabru, she was Khale n
é
e Khale in her natural and perfect state.

Her flawless sky blue skin reflected the light beautifully. A long flowing stream ran down her back, and she had round hips that lengthened into strong toned legs. Her eyes! He could never tire of gazing into her beautiful eyes, the color of violet, wide and bright. They had caught him and held him captive. Khale parted her lips slightly, raised them to his, and swept her delicious tongue against his. Ample breasts offered erect, ripe nipples primed for suckling. Sakarabru dropped to his knees and took one in his mouth and then the other.

He parted her soft thighs with his hand and eased his long finger into the delectable folds of her most precious self. Khale raised one leg and draped it over his shoulder. Sakarabru lowered his head and drove his tongue deep into the recesses of her flicking it against her thickening clit.

“Yesssss,” she hissed. “Oh … yessss!”

He fucked her with his tongue, the way he'd remembered she'd loved it. But he would not let her come. Sakarabru pushed her back against the wall, stood up, reached around her thighs, and raised her off the ground, then lowered her on his throbbing shaft.

Khale cried out. Her violet eyes bore into his as she thrust her hips against him, pounding him with the same force that he pushed into her. He was going to explode inside her! He was going to hurt her in the most fantastic way! He was going to own her, make her his, and dare any male to even try to enter her after he'd finished with her. Khale would want no other! She would need no other. And she would only ever crave him with the same passion that he craved her.

She cried out and bucked wildly against him. Sakarabru grunted deep in the back of his throat, closed his eyes, and flexed from his shoulders to his feet, as he released himself inside her. She was his. Khale n
é
e Khale would always be his.

*   *   *

It would all be over soon and there would be nothing standing in the way of him and the domination of this world. He glanced back at Lilith sleeping in his bed, still disguised as Khale. She was a tool with which he could live out a fantasy, a memory, or maybe even his own version of a prophecy. He might kill all of the other Ancients, but not her, not willingly. Khale had been the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen, and his love for her had been true. But she'd used him to create the abomination that was Mkombozi, and now this reborn.

He couldn't help smiling in his admiration of her. She had been as cunning and as conniving as a Demon, and yet she had managed to pass herself off as one of them—one of the Ancients. Maybe in her heart, that's what she had hoped she was, but deep down, she hated him because he recognized herself in him.

Kifo could be convincing. He was a good liar. He had even lied to Sakarabru by saying that he'd seduced Andromeda, tricked and captured her. The Seer could not be captured. She could only surrender, and for whatever reason, she had surrendered to Kifo. And he had gone along with it. Maybe Andromeda was the one setting the trap. She was certainly cunning. Sakarabru had peeled her like fruit and found nothing that would cause him concern. How many times had he taken the Seer apart in the past? And how many of those times had she stolen from him and used her prize to create her Omens? Had she stolen from him tonight?

It was a mangled mess of “what-ifs” tangled in his mind. Sakarabru was tired, and maybe he was overthinking things. He had always been suspicious of everyone around him, but it had saved his life on many occasions. It was exhausting being so solitary, but necessary. But if he ever did discover that Kifo had betrayed him, the Djinn would pay dearly for that betrayal at the end of Sakarabru's most brutal and sadistic wrath. And as for Andromeda, he was through playing her games. She'd survived and escaped him so many times before. He'd like to see her escape after he took her head.

“Sakarabru,” Khale moaned seductively.

A beautiful hardened nipple pressed invitingly against the bedsheet.

“Yes, my love,” he responded.

“Come to bed,” she begged. “I'm getting cold.”

Tomorrow he would kill a seer and a reborn. Tonight he would fuck Khale until she begged for him to stop.

 

FIGHT THE POWER

Eden had grown more sullen and moody with each passing day. And of course the Guardian was never far from her side, watching over her as if he were waiting for something to happen. They were no closer to finding the third Omen now than they had been three days ago, when Eden and Prophet had come back to lower Manhattan.

“Eden, concentrate,” Khale gently coaxed her. “The first two Omens should lead you to the last one. That's how it worked before. The first two led Mkombozi to the final one. The Omens need to be complete. They need each other.”

Eden pressed her lips together in frustration; they were well beyond the point of coddling her. Khale studied her, wondering if she weren't somehow blocking any messages that the other two Omens might send to her out of spite to get back at Khale for what she'd done to her at the house of the Seer twins. But surely she wouldn't be so petty. Eden had come so far, and she had to understand the gravity of this situation, especially now.

“Maybe you aren't recognizing what they're telling you,” Khale continued. “Do you see a place in your mind that seems random? Is there a word that keeps repeating to you, or a song? Anything?”

“Nothing,” she said resentfully. “I'm getting nothing, Khale.”

“Try harder,” Khale urged.

“I don't have time for this,” Jarrod said irritably, getting up to leave. “I've got my own kind to check up on, Shifter,” he said, gathering his things to leave. “You know where to find me if you need me.”

“Since you're so into fates and prophesies, Khale, maybe you should take this as a sign,” Isis said indifferently. “The fact that Eden doesn't know might mean that this isn't meant to be.”

“We're not alone,” Aelia said suddenly, sitting up straight in her wheelchair. “Someone's here.”

Prophet sensed it too and immediately stood up and prepared himself for whatever might materialize in that room.

“Show yourself,” Khale commanded.

In one corner of the room, Kifo gradually revealed himself. They all knew him. He was the chief mystic to Sakarabru, and he had been the one to build this new army. Prophet lunged at him and immediately took to shoving his elbow into Kifo's neck and slamming him back against the wall. Isis pulled out a Colt .45 and pointed it at his head. Out of water, Aelia was pretty much useless.

Khale approached him. “Sakarabru's taken to sending spies, I see.”

Kifo tried shoving the Guardian's arm from across his throat, but of course it wouldn't budge. So he did what came naturally. Kifo disappeared and then reappeared on the other side of the room.

“Fuckin' Djinn,” Prophet muttered.

He adjusted his shirt and tie. “I'm not a spy,” he retorted.

“Yeah. You'll understand if we don't believe you,” Isis said sarcastically.

“What else would you be doing here if not spying, Djinn?” Khale probed.

Kifo looked at each one of them around the room, until his gaze finally landed and lingered on her. No one had to tell him who she was. Kifo was looking at the reborn. Andromeda had told him that the reborn had survived the bonds with the first two Omens. Being this close to her now, he could feel the familiar essence of Sakarabru emanating from her aura. Kifo could see the Demon's dark nature reflecting back at him in her eyes.