The Last Slayer Read online

  I thought about Jack. He’d probably gotten my note by now. I’d promised to bring Valerie back, and I’d never broken my word to him. Even knowing that he could slip into divination that could mess with my head, I wanted to seek his guidance. He wasn’t the kind of father who kissed your owwie and made it better, but his advice, especially in non-diviner moments, had always been good. And—if I was honest with myself—a comfort. Surely he could offer something to ground me in the surreal situation I was in.

  Finally a floating dragonhold came into view. Its sheer beauty took my breath away.

  Unlike Besade and its sturdy Gothic castle, the Lunar Garden had ornate free-standing Corinthian columns. Some of their tops had been artistically “ruined,” but nothing that had really been destroyed could look that good. A river of silver moonbeams coiled around and through dark green foliage, finally turning into cascading falls near the entrance to the Garden. Sex and the moon permeated the air with an intoxicating combination. According to the texts, it was one that mellowed minds and enchanted hearts the way a well-aged brandy affected sommeliers and alcoholics alike. It certainly had that effect on me. My worries began receding, and a languid peace descended on me. It was an effort to stay focused on the job at hand: saving Valerie.

  Our amphiteres landed in a clearing between the entrance and the moonbeam falls. Night insects chirped in chorus, toads adding a base counterpoint to the nocturne. Our feet touched soft grass and the amphiteres departed. I looked around. There was no sign of dragons, not even a small one like Toshi. Ramiel and I walked toward the gates.

  A young woman stepped out of the darkness from our right, and almost made me jump and reach for my sword. She was stunning, her dark olive skin flawless against the red of her hair. It was cut short, about half an inch below her ears. She didn’t seem concerned about her complete nudity.

  I might not have been either, if I’d looked like her.

  Her gaze skimmed over both of us until it rested on Ramiel. “What a surprise. Lord Ramiel.”

  “Take us to your mistress,” he said.

  The woman pointed at me. “Who is she?”

  Mortals don’t rank high among the supernaturals, but that was just rude. “She is Ashera del Cid,” I said, taking a step forward before Ramiel could answer. “Now will you announce us to Nahemah?”

  She looked me up and down with languid disdain. “Mistress is no longer accepting new liliths.”

  “Works out pretty well, since I’m not looking to become one of her slaves.”

  “Enough,” Ramiel said before she could respond. “Announce us to your mistress or we shall go in ourselves.”

  She stared at us, giving us her flawless beauty. I guess it worked on others, but Ramiel and I met her eyes without blinking. Finally, she bowed to Ramiel, pointedly ignoring me. “Allow me to make your presence known.” She disappeared through the entrance.

  We didn’t have to wait long before a tall graceful woman in a translucent robe came walking toward us. With each of her steps, she exuded a timeless decadence and hedonism, the kind that the Persian and Ottoman Empires, the Sun King and old Hollywood had tried in vain to imitate and possess. Her long curls held no color except black. It was as if someone had spun the night sky into strands of silk and graced her head with them. She held five satin leashes in her left hand. Three naked men crawled on their hands and knees, while two Dobermans trotted beside them. Fresh lash marks crisscrossed one of the men’s otherwise flawless skin. My stomach turned over, and not entirely from revulsion. A small part of me was mesmerized by the display, and I hoped nobody noticed my sordid fascination with the slaves.

  The men were all young and movie-star handsome. They had no reason to humiliate themselves like this. Perhaps they considered it an honor. Their looks of utter worship as they gazed up at Nahemah made my skin hot. I didn’t know what to make of my reaction. Whips and chains weren’t my thing…or so I’d thought all these years.

  Nahemah’s rosy lips curved into a smile, her sapphire eyes amused as they rested on us. “Lord Ramiel. Showing up unexpectedly…and without an invitation! You do like to play dangerously, don’t you? Well, never mind. I’ve been waiting for you…and the daughter of Leh as well, of course. Ashera, isn’t it?”

  “You know who I am?” I said.

  “Why would Ramiel come here to seek my help finding the last slayer if it weren’t for you? Everyone knows about the vow he made and how much he hates me.” She glanced toward Ramiel, and her voice took on a just-us-girls tone. “It’s such bad form to hold a grudge over a trivial matter that happened more than four hundred years ago. But what can one do?”

  “Thank you for your kind welcome, Nahemah,” Ramiel said, his voice flat.

  She extended a slim alabaster hand, and he brushed a kiss across the marble-smooth skin. Her smile widened.

  “At least your manners have improved. Courtly, I see.”

  “For someone as beautiful as you, always,” he murmured and let go of her hand.

  Centuries-old grudge or not, he wasn’t immune to her. I saw the way his pupils dilated, darkening to the deepest jade. Why not? I was straight, and even I felt the pull of her sexuality. But that didn’t mean I felt okay with his reaction to her. I really needed to stop obsessing about him liking someone else. Ramiel was at least half a millennium old, and he had probably bedded every supernatural babe there was.

  Nahemah took a step forward, coming closer to me. She reached out to grasp my chin. I remained where I was, but jerked my face from her hand.

  She laughed. “What a spirited girl! Come. I’m sure you have an interesting proposal for me.”

  She turned around and swayed into the Lunar Garden, leashes trailing and pets competing to be closest to her. Ramiel and I followed.

  A lot of strange night foliage and herbs grew in the garden. The footpath was just wide enough for Nahemah and her groveling samaels. I wondered if any of their names was Samuel. Samuel the samael. Maybe alliteration would make the groveling easier.

  As we brushed by the herbs, the scent of mint and rosemary wafted from the dark leaves. I doubted they were real. I may have a black thumb, but I know what mint and rosemary look like. These plants had silver-white leaves and small clusters of red flowers with petals that hung like drops of blood.

  Finally, we entered a flat, one-story structure. Only the tall engaged columns marked it as the grand hall. The glass between them gave us a gorgeous view of the garden around the building. Liliths and samaels in humble cotton robes watered Nahemah’s plants. It looked paradisiacal—a beautiful magical garden and handsome young people tending it with joy in their hearts, all for their lady. The image tugged at me, and I felt an unexpected pang of longing. Then I shook my head. I was not here to offer myself up to Nahemah.

  Our hostess led us to an intimate table for four by an alcove. A blue and white jade statuette of a unicorn occupied the nook. A lilith in a lavender Grecian shift served us cool mint wine and fresh fruit. When neither Ramiel nor I touched the offering, Nahemah smirked and sipped her drink.

  “Shall I test yours?” she asked, her eyes glittering.

  Her voice held no malice or mockery. Still, I wouldn’t eat anything from her without a guarantee. Despite her graciousness, something about her made my skin crawl.

  She sighed. “Oh, all right. I swear the food and drink you see on the table are safe to consume. No magic, no tricks.”

  Good enough. I finally tried the wine. The red petals I’d seen outside floated on the surface. It was quite refreshing and sweet, with a strong mint aftertaste. Ramiel merely toyed with his glass. It looked fragile in his large hand.

  “So.” Nahemah leaned back in her chair. Her skin positively glowed in the moonlight. “The sky is beautiful tonight, isn’t it? The moon is ripe for harvesting.”

  I took the opening. What was the point of exchanging pointless banter? I wasn’t good at it, and I wanted to get the visit over with. “I’d like your help to enter the Mystic Forest.”
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  Her eyebrows rose, and her mouth formed a small O. Her act didn’t fool me. She knew why I’d come. Hell, I bet the entire supernatural realm knew what I was up to.

  “That’s quite the task. It requires an enormous amount of magic.” She placed her glass neatly on the table. Her red lacquered nails ran over the tabletop before coming to rest on a large sapphire pendant between her breasts. “Furthermore, if I help you, Nathanael, Semangelaf and Apollyon will never forgive me. So why should I?”

  I tensed. Had she been approached by them already? Was she their ally?

  “Because you’re your own mistress,” Ramiel said.

  Something flickered in Nahemah’s eyes. She tucked a wayward tendril behind an ear and gazed at Ramiel with a hint of amusement.

  “So I am. But why give something for nothing?” She gestured at the mortals toiling away around her. “They offer me their service in return for a chance at eternal youth.” She tilted her head in my direction, night-black curls spilling over her shoulder. “Are you offering your service to me?”

  “Most. Definitely. Not.”

  “Then?”

  “I don’t know enough about you to know what you want. But there must be something I can give you.”

  She put a finger over her lower lip and considered. “Well, there is one thing…”

  I sipped my wine and waited for it.

  “Dinner.”

  “Excuse me?” I hoped she hadn’t just asked me to make her dinner. I watched the Food Network when I could, sure, but I wouldn’t serve what I’d made to anyone, unless I wanted to risk earning their enmity for life. Why else would I practically live on General Tso’s chicken from Lotus Blossom?

  “Have dinner with me after you return from the Mystic Forest.”

  Okay, that wasn’t that difficult. Or was it?

  “No,” Ramiel said, his tone implacable.

  Nahemah raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Unacceptable.”

  “But why?” She stretched her arms, palms up. It was a gesture of dramatic yet humble reasonableness, and somehow it fit Nahemah perfectly. “I’m not asking her to dine with me now. She doesn’t have to fulfill her end of the bargain until she comes back. And I promise I won’t drug the food or drinks. It’s just that Weston’s been dying to show off his new recipes, and you know how I love dinner parties.”

  “Weston?” I said.

  “My caretaker,” Nahemah said. “Speaking of which, how is your castellan, Ramiel? What was his name? Wishy…? Washy…?”

  “Toshi,” he said. “Surely you remember him? Senility can’t have set in yet.”

  “It helps me to associate names with certain of their owners’ characteristics. Makes remembering so much easier.” Her smile became a tinkling laugh. “Of course, I undoubtedly have a more difficult time of it, lacking as I do the benefit of the social limitations that come with being outcast.” She turned to me. “But we all fare as best we can. So. What do you say?”

  Outcast? I glanced at Ramiel. His eyes were blank. His long nimble fingers continued to toy with his glass, but their movements weren’t as smooth as before.

  And of course, Nahemah didn’t miss anything.

  “You don’t trust me. How silly.” She waved a hand negligently. “I simply want to be the first to dine with Leh’s daughter and her champion. Is that so hard to understand?”

  Without blinking even once, she took a long swallow of her wine and peered at Ramiel over the rim of her glass. He met her stare evenly.

  “I hope you plan to join us,” she said to Ramiel.

  He opened his mouth to argue, but I said, “We accept.”

  His face turned a dull shade of red, then went absolutely white. A muscle in his jaw started ticking. Nahemah’s trilling laughter rang in the hall.

  I had no idea what was between them, but I didn’t want to get involved. Especially over something that had happened over four fricking centuries ago.

  Still, if looks could kill…

  “The lady knows what she wants,” Nahemah said, still to Ramiel. “She doesn’t see any problem with my proposal, so why should you?” She gestured at the moon. “It’s going to disappear soon. Shall we wait for the next cycle?”

  “No.” By then Valerie would be long dead. “Let’s do it.”

  “You’re making a mistake,” Ramiel said.

  I rose from my seat, ignoring him. I had no choice. “Show me how I can find Leh.”

  The contented look on Nahemah’s face made my stomach clench. But it was too late to change my mind.

  Nahemah signaled one of the liliths by the servants’ entrance. It was the same insolent girl who had greeted me and Ramiel. She was still naked and still beautiful. But next to Nahemah, she seemed as drab as a potato sack. I had to wonder what I looked like compared to those two. Maybe growing up in Valerie’s shadow hadn’t been so bad.

  “India, take Lady Ashera to the Lunar Pool.”

  “Yes, milady.” India bowed, then turned to me and bowed again. I liked her new and improved attitude. “Please give your weapon to Lord Ramiel and follow me.”

  I glanced at Nahemah and then at Ramiel. Regardless of the promise she’d made, I wasn’t naïve enough to think Semangelaf and his buddies hadn’t tried to negotiate with Nahemah. She could’ve turned their offer down—hell, Semangelaf could be gay for all I knew—but I didn’t want to leave my sword behind.

  “Don’t worry,” Nahemah said. “None of my servants will attack an unarmed guest, and I don’t want to add Ramiel’s blade to my collection. Besides, what do you suppose you’re going to do with that thing? Skewer your mother?” She laughed.

  Ramiel’s knuckles tightened around the stem of his glass. Any stiffer and he might snap in half. He nodded at me. All right. If he thought there was nothing wrong with leaving the weapon behind… I handed it to him. “I’ll be back for it soon.”

  “You won’t need it.” He tossed the sword on the empty seat next to him. “Luck.”

  That last word sounded a bit terse, but what could I do about his less than upbeat mood? I was beginning to think Nahemah was right. Four hundred years was a long time to hold a grudge. He needed to either have it out with her or get over it.

  India led me outside. We walked along a smooth stone path into the heart of the dragonhold. Hundreds of tiny orb lights hovered around us and along the path, illuminating the way like so many floating drops of candleflame. The flowers I had noticed earlier had bloomed and shed crimson petals that lay like beads of blood against the black of the stones. Some had been crushed into a pulp that attracted strange beetle-like insects, which I found odd. Nahemah didn’t seem like the type to tolerate bugs in her garden.

  Now that I had some peace and quiet, I started to wonder what “getting ready” really meant. It had better not be having an orgy with a bunch of strangers or enduring sexual torture. You never knew with psycho demigods. The whole porn flick scenario was never my thing—To Save her Sister and Stay Alive, our Nubile Heroine must Submit to Unspeakable Acts she’d Never Imagined were Possible!

  Lame.

  We turned a corner, and I gaped.

  India stopped. “This is the Lunar Pool. Please take off your clothes and bathe yourself.”

  Silver moonbeams gathered and swirled inside the pool and slapped its circular shores gently. Magic, fluid and mysterious, skimmed over the pearlescent surface. Rosebushes lined the banks, providing privacy and a faint perfume.

  It was one of the most beautiful spots I’d ever seen.

  “I will wait for you here,” India said and turned away.

  I stripped quickly. The sooner I got done, the faster I could take care of Valerie and figure out a way to prevent the Triumvirate of Madainsair from killing me. Plus, I couldn’t wait to try out the pool. Its magic lured me, the way a beer would an alcoholic. I took a deep breath and waded in.

  As warm as a mother’s womb. As sweet as a lullaby.

  I nearly swooned as memories cascaded thr
ough me: Jack welcoming me into his home, Valerie putting her arm around me in front of the cool crowd in high school, my being accepted to Stanford, my first kill as a hunter, the moist steaming flavor of General Tso’s chicken, hot chocolate in winter, and nights of singing at karaoke bars. Each of them was pleasurable and special enough to bring a smile to my lips. Put together, they were like mainlining cocaine. I felt giddy, almost drunk. Then it was just silence—comforting sweetness and the lull of the moon, and I felt at peace, inside and out. Spas would kill for just a drop of this magic.

  I could’ve stayed there forever, but the moon began its descent. With a sigh I stood up, automatically checking for any loose hair in the pool. There wasn’t any that I could see. I really doubted I’d lost enough to create a link into my dreams. Finally satisfied, I dragged myself out. My skin glowed. But it wasn’t wet, merely moisturized and oiled. No wonder Nahemah looked so good. Kinda unfair since I was the one who needed the help.

  I glanced at the pool. It had turned a dark crimson. All colors mean something, especially in magical settings. Unfortunately, I wasn’t up on the moon’s color associations. It was something Valerie would know. I really should’ve concentrated more on subjects other than hunting and supernatural taxonomy back in school.

  India held out a silk robe.

  I didn’t take it. “Where are my clothes?”

  “In the lyceum, milady.” She bowed. “I apologize for taking them away, but they aren’t suitable for the ceremony about to be performed.” Her dark eyes flicked toward the sky. “Soon it will be too late.”

  I didn’t want to wear it, but I didn’t want to walk around nude in front of all these perfect physical specimens more.

  I took the robe and draped it over my body. It fell like a wisp of mist around me. I watched India surreptitiously. She looked bored, the way Nathanael had been, and I didn’t trust her. Just the fact that she had volunteered to be a lilith to someone like Nahemah told me everything I needed to know. What kind of person volunteers for slavery?