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Children of the warlock should surround him now while he lay on his death bed. Instead, beside him sat an immortal warrior who had comforted no one in his millennia of existence, a fierce instrument of justice who was soul-weary of an eternity forged by schemes.
From the warlock’s union with Niviane came their offspring Seraphine. Later, in the guise of a red-tailed hawk, the Cambion from Wales impregnated Coye the succubus. The incubus Quind sprang from this union.
From one child would come chaos. Endless rivers of blood, free-roaming beasts hungry for human flesh, and insatiable desires. From the other, order. Quiet nights in the arms of loved ones, calm spirits free of guilt, and the salvation of two species.
The ancient male’s head fell back upon the mattress. “Which will it be, Ohngel? Have I bred the downfall or the beginning of civilization?”
“I wish I knew, old one, but events must play out.”
A pained smile curled the venerable mage’s lips at his mentor’s words. “I do not desire the deaths of mine born either to Niviane or to Coye. Both offspring carry my blood, my heart.”
“I am sorry you are the chosen instrument to fix what Gabriel and Gahya have broken.”
The hoary mage slipped closer to his end. As an immortal, Ohngel could stave off his death for a while. For all his carefully laid stratagems, however, he tried not to interfere in the natural progression of life, believing a fine line lay between guiding the future and creating it. Besides, the Cambion deserved a rest.
“Prophet, I entrust into your care the fate of mankind and my Aeternals. Do not desert our cause.” The old one’s breath stuttered. Then it stopped.
His voice a whisper, Ohngel leaned close to the Cambion to utter his promise. “I will never allow the weight of the past to crush the present.”
Moisture still dripped from the cave walls, disturbing the silence as it splattered on rock. Ohngel’s heart thumped loudly against his rib cage, his throat too dry to swallow. The wind outside whispered across the cavern entrance. The fire sputtered.
But the Cambion’s hand slipped from Ohngel’s fingers to fall lifeless upon the ground. Not wanting it in the dirt, the assassin folded it along with the other onto the old man’s chest.
A tear slid down Ohngel’s cheek. He brushed it away. Strange. In endless eternities, he had never cried. But he had asked much of this honorable male while granting him too little. Not the lasting love of a mate. Not the satisfaction of getting to know or guide his own offspring. Not even the familiarity of friends.
Ohngel straightened to his full height of six-foot-eight. With a flick of his wrist, he set the Cambion’s shell ablaze. The warlock’s spirit swirled, twisting like smoke to waft through the chamber on its way into the surrounding forest. “To a good journey home, old friend. I will escort you to the gate of the Evermore.”
When the flames blazed high, the warrior stepped for the last time into the campfire to rise as the Phoenix, his feathers bright shards of color, an explosion to commemorate a sacrifice.
For duty. For honor.
With a mournful cry, the winged symbol of rebirth circled the cavernous chamber before flying through the opening. Once outside, it shattered again, reforming its molecules, morphing into a red dragon whose hot, tempestuous breath incinerated trees for miles around. Its anger was an inferno. Its despair for needless waste a conflagration. No more, it vowed, riding higher and higher on the air currents, searching for the Cambion’s spirit. Finding it, the dragon lit the path to the Evermore.
The time neared when Ohngel would forge another path, a new destiny. For what was destiny but a carefully laid stratagem set into motion? Order in a chaotic world.
Chapter One
Scath, Present Day
Indigo peeked between the leaves of a thickly foliaged bush, her hand pressing down on a branch for a better view. The greenery tickled her nose. Her eyes narrowed into a squint.
Cheeky bastard. What’s he doing in my river?
With his broad back to her, a male submerged beneath a pool of water created by large boulders and fallen trees. He left behind only a ripple. After several moments, he exploded from the depths. Breaking the surface, he cut through the misty layer which floated atop the river.
Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Thu-thump.
Her heart stuttered against her ribs when he tossed his head from side to side, scattering droplets of moisture. His lazy fingers combed through short, wet, smoky black hair. The muscles of his huge, corded biceps flexed with the movement. Ribbons of water flowed from the top of his broad shoulders to his trim waist until they rejoined the river. Indigo licked her lips, imagining her tongue caressing his moist flesh.
Holy Gahya and hot stuff.
She brushed away dangling leaves to get a clearer view of the hunk.
A huge Phoenix tat in glorious technicolor filled the intruder’s back, from his shoulders to the upper curve of his tight ass. With its head angled upward, the bird’s beak nipped the trespasser’s neck. Wings unfolded from his spine, continuing until they curled around his biceps like decorative armlets. Talons perched atop his squeezable buttocks. And everywhere, the mass of brightly colored feathers glinted in the sun. If it were on his arm, she’d take him for a Scion Firebrand, a warrior who protected her realm, but his mark was bolder. It said I’m the biggest, strongest mutherfucker on Scath.
With a slow sensual pivot, the intruder presented a flawless, densely muscled bronze chest. He remained groin deep in the river. Indigo moaned in appreciation of a thin trail of hair arrowing down from his naval until it disappeared into the water.
Take one more step toward shore, she urged.
