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Azar stood, unsheathed a dagger, stomped over and, after a savage fight, cut out Rathbone’s tongue. For some reason, Hades allowed it.
A thousand protests bubbled inside Neeka.
The Memory Keeper returned to Lore, presenting the goddess with her prize.
“Marvelous. Marvelous indeed.” Erebus widened his grin and clapped. “Do you want to proclaim me the winner of this task yet, or shall we continue?”
The remaining Astra went quiet with shock.
“That’s better.” Lore took the dagger Azar had used and licked the blood from the blade. Crimson smeared her cheek. A ghoulish sight, she stood slowly, almost chest to chest with Azar. “Oh, how I’ve longed for this day.” She traced her fingers over his jaw. “Stop fighting your desire for me. Unleash it.”
The Astra huffed and puffed, as if he wrestled with her command with all his strength. But in the end, he couldn’t stop himself from obeying. Desire heated his eyes as he swooped in to kiss her.
“Mmm. That did it.” She laughed as she pulled away, calling, “My sweet army. Come!”
Her laughter mutated into a scream as her head fell back, her body curved, and her feet lifted off the floor. She hovered there, nothing but a vessel as the shadow monsters burst from her abdomen. Wow. More than before. So many more. They swarmed the audience, attacking the Astra, Taliyah, Hades, and the chained Rathbone. Still no sign of Neeka herself. Chaos had vanished.
Though their group fought hard and dirty, the members were devoured until every trace of them vanished.
In reality, rigidity invaded her limbs. She might be dead in the future, but the vision chugged on. Erebus was the sole survivor of the feast.
“We did it,” Lore grinned at him as the shadow beings surrounded him. “A war far easier than we anticipated.”
The Deathless winked at her, evincing no hint of anxiety. “Which makes our victory sweeter.”
Our victory? They worked together?
The vision dwindled to nothing, allowing the world to whoosh into focus once more. Neeka was panting, sweat drenched and crushed. She’d changed the future all right, just not for the better. Somehow, she’d made everything worse.
Rathbone had yet to move a muscle. Blood still leaked from his wounds. At least he survived these wounds. How else could he attend the ceremony and shout his love for Lore?
Obviously, Neeka hadn’t utilized the elixir in this current fate. Thanks to their most recent trips, she’d already gathered the proper ingredients—items she carried around in a weapon sheath. With the acquisition of the water droplets, she now possessed everything. Was the elixir the answer to her dilemma?
There was only one way to find out. So, she would do it, no matter the cost. Once his obsession with Lore ended, they could collect and destroy the remaining bones. Along the way, Neeka could kill her mother. Not Azar, though; she’d promised Taliyah. But Mother Dearest was a hundred percent fair game. In fact, her death would mark another positive change.
There was a wrench in Neeka’s plan, however. What if the General was right, and Rathbone was her consort?
Her breath hitched. He wasn’t her consort, no way, no how. But he could be. But he wasn’t. But he could be. But he wasn’t, not while he loved another. Though there was always a chance, right?
IfNeekawas his fated one, not Lore...if the goddess had tricked him into feeling what he felt, or would feel, which was a strong possibility... That meant Neeka would sever her own bond to the male when the two of them consumed the elixir, exchanging it for an artificial bond. She craved genuine, or nothing.
Was that the reason she’d forgone the elixir in the last vision?
Maybe shewouldn’tdo it, no matter the cost. There must be another way to win. What should she do, what should she do?
Taliyah appeared a few feet away, a vial in hand. She opened her mouth to speak but stayed quiet when she noticed Neeka’s agitated condition. “No need to worry, Neeks. Your non-consort will heal, you have my word.” She tossed the vial.
Neeka snatched the thing from the air, rasping, “Thank you.” She didn’t tell Taliyah what she’d seen as she poured the contents down Rathbone’s throat. She’d thrown enough at her friend already.
Finally, his wounds began to heal, and Neeka sagged with relief. He didn’t awaken, but he did sag over the floor and sleep, tension seeping from him.
“See? My part of the bargain is complete,” her friend said. “Now work on yours.”
19
As excruciating pain downgraded to mere discomfort, Rathbone’s thoughts unscrambled. A memory rose to the fore, carrying him back to the day he’d met Lore...
Eons ago
