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  Laughter. “You think I’m that careless? I’m hurt,” he teased. She offered no reaction to his words. “There is a spell of silence cast around this room—they have no idea I’m here. Your screams are wasted!” He stuck a finger in his right ear and shook, cocking his head to the side. “But nice and loud; I’ll give you that much.”

  Losing her will for a moment, he bound her quickly to him. He lifted her with him out the bathroom window. Before she realized it, they were flying out into the cool sea air, moving rapidly through the night sky. Stars were blurring by as they reached higher and higher into the atmosphere.

  Lokee held Alethea tight as she wiggled for freedom. Soon he was flying too fast for her to move. The wind held her there, silent, like a good little prisoner.

  They flew on and on. She could no longer make out their surroundings. She closed her eyes in defeat as Lokee headed for the one place Roman and Devendra would never think to look: home.

  “Evil requires the sanction of the victim.”

  –Ayn Rand

  Forty One

  Bound by hands and feet, and gagged with a dirty chiffon scarf, Alethea looked around the blackness of the room. She was suspended in midair, in a throne, unable to move and wide awake with fear.

  A spotlight came on, blinding her. After a few moments, the light moved from her direct vision. When she regained focus, she noticed Lokee hovering in the air 20 feet ahead with his back facing her. The spotlight crawled around the space until it reached his lingering form, bathing it in illumination, making him appear holy and pure.

  Alethea struggled to breathe under the tight gag. As Lokee turned to face her, she kicked and wiggled around, desperately trying to free herself from the restraints so that she could force herself at him and tear at his flesh with her fangs and nails. She would kill him. She felt the rage surging inside her like a tidal wave begging to be set free of its ocean prison.

  Lokee chuckled under his breath. Realizing she had no hope of getting free, she gave up, weeping in spite of her efforts, coming to terms with her ongoing weakness.

  Breaking his hollow silence, Lokee declared with the utmost sincerity marking his voice: “Welcome, Alethea.” He waved his hands around to display the emptiness of the room. She looked down to find that her throne drifted slowly toward a wooden floor with loose, rotting boards. “Welcome to my lair,” he continued, stifling his excitement.

  Alethea studied her surroundings. They were in an enormous room. The walls and windows were painted black. Although the color was wrong, she recognized the room. The faint smell of women’s perfume made her head swim. It was Elizabeth’s scent. The room began to spin around her. Voices filled her head, memories of her life as Alexandria played out like a movie on a projector screen in her mind.

  Lokee raised his arm toward the large window before him. Obeying his command, the window trembled, then opened slowly to display impeccable beauty. Through the window, Alethea could see what he was so excited about. The beauty told her she was in Aqua. This was the Morgan Castle. She was taken to Alexandria’s room, Alexandria’s time!

  Lokee took her back in time. As the realization hit her, the room began to rebuild itself. Slowly, it became exactly as Alexandria had left it centuries ago. She felt the familiarity of it; the odd sense of being “home” swept over her.

  She panicked, and in trying to calm the look of a wild beast in her eyes, Alethea lost control completely. She groaned, ripped her arms free and then immediately untied her legs. Lokee watched curiously as she ripped the gag from her mouth and screamed as loud as her lungs could handle. Her roar rattled its way up and out of her lungs and esophagus to wrap itself against the walls that confined her.

  When she was finished, she fell over without control onto the castle hard floor.

  “You don’t really think I simply tied you up, do you?” he asked, indicating the cord he had tied around the hem of the freshly cleaned nightgown he placed on her. When he changed her clothing, she did not know. Things moved at an odd pace; she was missing pockets of time.

  “Of course, I knew you would find the strength to unleash yourself sooner or later. That is, once you discovered where you actually were.” He turned his back to her again, musing at her attempts to defy him only to fail miserably. He turned and walked toward the open window. He took in a deep, refreshing breath, before closing it tight. Turning to face her again, he smiled sadistically and walked forward to help her resettle into her throne. Again, she was bound as before, only this time the gag was an apple.

  She hated apples.

  “I know it,” he said, unable to contain his laughter. “Especially the red ones; ‘they’re too mushy,’ ” he mimicked in a girlish voice. He reached over to her mouth and removed the apple to take a bite out of it.

  Alethea spit at him.

  Lokee looked down at the spot where her spit landed next to his shoe and inhaled deeply. He shoved the apple back into her mouth, busting her lip with the force. “I do hope you enjoy yourself here with me. I know I’ll enjoy you.”

  She mumbled.

  “You know I can’t understand you with that apple in your mouth. Why don’t you try to use your mind magic?”

  She mumbled again, the vein in her forehead growing dangerously large as the rage surged.

  “What’s that?” he asked, moving closer to her face. “I can’t understand you; you’ll need to concentrate har—”

  She stopped mumbling.

  “Oh, yes. I almost forgot.” He slapped his forehead sarcastically. “You can’t use that magic either, can you? Forgive me. Let me remove that gag so you can converse more clearly with me.”

  As soon as he removed the apple, she spit at him again, only this time at close range. It went right in his face. “That was charming, my dear, really.” He licked her saliva from his upper lip, his fangs protruding angrily. “Rude, but charming. You ought to learn a little respect. Respect of a captor would be wise, wouldn’t you think? Not spitting at him could buy you favors.”

  Alethea held his eyes locked to hers. She did not speak. She did not want to waste her breath on him.

  Dismissing the intensity of her stare, he mused, “Once we do away with Roman and Devendra, things will change. You only need a little time to adjust, that’s all. And with my coaxing, time will fly for you, Alethea.” He leaned close to her ear, and as if to stir some lost, forbidding passion inside of her, he whispered as tenderly as he could, “Trust me.”

  The hot air from his breath clung to her earlobe, staining it with deception.

  Unable to contain her tongue any longer, she burst out: “No! I will never trust you.”

  Lokee’s lips curved in a wicked smile.

  “Roman and Devendra will save me, I promise you that. Then you can adjust in death!” she snapped, as hard as she could, trying to sound confident in herself, in her words. She looked around again and felt Roman’s warmth around her. He was already searching high and low for her. “I am here, my love. Here,” she mumbled, half-heartedly, trying to send the message to Roman, trying to use her mind magic.

  “Yes, my dear, you most certainly are here. I skipped the dream bullshit and reached for the core,” Lokee claimed, thrusting his fist in the air. “You are finally here, and taking you was easier than I had anticipated. Those two idiots will take weeks, even months to find you, if they do at all.”

  He looked at her closely, noticing the warmth around her like a mist. “That mist is not Roman’s essence,” he implored, pointing at it. “You are only thinking of him,” he said, walking closer to her and placing his hands on the arms of the throne he had her bound to, leaning in, “that’s all. What you see there is fog from outside, condensation. Nothing more!”

  “Liar! Every word that falls from your lips is a lie. You don’t have the strength or mental ability to deceive Devendra. She is much older than you are. And she has the help of our Mother.”

  “Sorry, darling, but you are mistaken. I was taught by Devendra when she played
mother to me.” He plopped down on the floor at her feet. “She shared all her dark secrets with me. And get this,” he looked around as if someone might be listening, “so did Lillith. She’s playing us both.”

  He broke off in laughter, picking himself up from the floor and leaving the room.

  “This above all, to refuse to be a victim.”

  –Margaret Atwood

  Forty Two

  Alethea thought a few weeks passed, although it felt like years. She was unbound and waiting for a chance to escape, but where could she go—she was lost in time, her magic was weak. It was beginning to become clear that, as Lokee said, Roman and Devendra may have given up on rescuing her.

  Lokee’s hiding place was clever, after all. Probably frustrating to them. Would they feel that way about her? That she was frustrating? Were they not true to her in their hearts?

  Lokee pushed the idea that they had rediscovered their love and found it stronger than Alethea’s bond with Roman. At first, she hissed and spit in his face, vowing never to believe his lies. But there remained a faint glimmer in her heart that tested her ultimate fear—that Lokee spoke the truth. She reluctantly began to let her mind run wild with his acerbic suggestions. She became smothered in the guilt of realization—she might have nowhere else to turn.

  Alethea woke to catch the last rays of sunlight dancing across the sky. In the cloud cover, she saw what she thought resembled an angel, filling her with renewed hope. Just as she started calling to Roman and Devendra for the hundredth thousandth time, Lokee barged into her quarters with a look of fury on his face.

  “What?” Alethea asked, sharply, trying her best to sound firm and unafraid.

  “You accuse me with such a tone? I haven’t even said ‘good morning’ yet, my dear counterpart,” he said in his defense.

  She scowled at him. “I will never treat you as you wish me to. Can you not see by now that I despise you with every fiber of my being? You are sick! You repulse me!” She turned her face from him, her eyes searching desperately for her angel in the sky. Help me through this, she begged of the apparition.

  This maddened him even more than the other countless times she had sputtered the very same words to him. Sensing impending danger, she turned her head slowly from the window and gazed into his face. She rose to face him. As he advanced on her, she slowly backed away, searching with her peripheral vision for something, anything, to fend him off with.

  He struck her. The sting settled into numbness across her cheekbone, reverberating in her ear, causing it to hum in resistance. In the flash the strike sent through her sight, she was reminded of an assault given to Alexandria in the same manner by her father. Alethea lifted her hand to the spot, rubbing it tenderly, fighting to regain focus. She stumbled backwards, clumsily, looking for something sharp, something capable of inflicting a return flash of pain, even if only for an instant.

  She wanted so badly to hurt the man before her, to see his face bend in the twisted frame of agony as hers had before him only a moment ago.

  “How can you say such hateful things to me?” he prodded. “Don’t you understand I saved you? Your precious Roman made his decision,” he offered a dramatic pause, “and it wasn’t you.” He stood there glaring at her, letting the words sink in. “Get over it and thank me!”

  His face was flushed and she could hear his heart thumping wildly. It pounded with the deafening beat of a thousand horses galloping across hard terrain, beating in her ears so loudly that she had to cover them with her hands.

  Surrendering her thoughts of revenge, she shifted her stance and moved carefully to the bed. There she sat down and attempted to clear her head enough to think straight. She recovered from his strike, physically, but mentally she felt ruined.

  Overwhelmed with sensations of losing her mind, she couldn’t even remember how long she had been there with Lokee. Her thoughts drifted back to Roman and Devendra. She could not comprehend how they could really just forget all about her as Lokee had suggested.

  No. It wouldn’t turn out that way. She knew it in her heart—every word that fell from Lokee’s lips was a vicious lie based on the artful manipulations of a powerful vampire. Nothing more than lies.

  Again, Alethea sent out her vibrations. She concentrated on Devendra’s face, on her aura. She imagined her own essence flowing out the window and over the valley, through time, back to Roman. She filled him with her light. She instilled him with her presence. She imagined with her mind—as hard as she could—her would-be heroes rushing through the door, releasing her from Hell.

  “Alethea? What are you doing?” Lokee’s voice cut through her meditation.

  She opened her eyes to find him kneeling before her, his face dark and sad. Truly sad. Her heart skipped a beat, but she wasn’t sure if it was from pity or panic.

  “Look, Lokee,” Alethea started, shakily, “let me go and we will never fight.” She did not know what point she was getting to but kept talking. “Let me go and you can live out your life; we will not interfere. Stop this war before it’s too late.”

  He rose and moved onto the bed next to her. She inched herself away from him, beginning to sob, knowing his intentions were not good ones.

  “Crying will do nothing. You use that method for sympathy much too often, Alethea. Can’t you think of anything else with your new mind?” he taunted.

  She looked away from him, hiding her eyes, feeling ashamed.

  Merciless, he continued, “Or, have you not decided to accept the facts about Roman and Devendra? They have no intention of rescuing you, believe me, I have made it easy for them to track you here.” He lied with such ease it sickened her. Reaching for her face, he took her chin in his fingers and forced her to look into his eyes. “They are not here; but I am, and I love you.”

  The room was spinning. Alethea fought the urge to faint. Confusion seeped from her pores. In every possible way, she tried to deny him. “Get out of here!” she cried, angrily, through tears. “Get the hell away from me, you filthy, disgusting beast!” She shoved at him, pushing his hand from her face, disgustedly.

  He laughed. “Oh, and I suppose you’re the purest of angels?” he asked, sarcastically. She stared at him blankly. “You and I are exactly the same, Alethea.”

  “We are not the same!” she spit.

  “Oh, but we are,” he assured her. He put his fingers to his lips, thinking. “You say you want me to leave you?”

  She nodded.

  “Hmm.” He acted as if he was pondering the thought. “No. I think I’ll stay right here with you.”

  She took a breath of air and held it, anticipating his next words.

  “And you will give me what you refused on our wedding night. You forget, Alethea, that you are lawfully mine. In body, mind and soul.” He moved too quickly for her to react. In an instant, he was on top of her, pinning her down with immense strength.

  She tried, but failed, to push him off. “What are you doing? NO! Get off me!” she yelled in panic, squirming under his grasp.

  The harder she fought, the more he forced. She couldn’t breath; he was crushing her. Soon, out of nothing but exhaustion, she knew he would win. “Never!” she tried, crying with all her heart in resistance.

  “Now,” he retorted, panting from growing excitement.

  “NOOOOOO!” she screamed. Her voice echoed against the castle walls.

  He slapped her again, this time across the mouth. She could taste blood draining down the back of her throat.

  By the time he retreated, she was close to unconscious. She couldn’t move her limbs; the fear had her paralyzed, but she could think. Perhaps her mind could take her away from the torment she faced. She was still able to send her essence in abundance to Roman and Devendra. She begged them to hear her, to find her before Lokee destroyed her spirit.

  Sensing her mental pleas, Lokee reappeared above her with a darker face than before. Only, this time, there wasn’t a trace of sadness, only pure evil. “You will pay for that, Alethea.” />
  Taking shallow breaths, she begged of his forgiveness with slurred, broken sentences. He threw her on the stone floor, and as she tried to push herself up, barely regaining the ability to move her limbs, he kicked the middle of her back with his heel, forcing her ribs downward in vengeance against the hard stone floor.

  She caught a sharp, excruciating pain as her ribs cracked like chicken bones. It only lasted a few moments, but those moments were filled with agony beyond belief.

  She gasped for air, struggling to lift her head and face him. Pain shot down to the small of her back. Had he hit her there, too? She didn’t know anymore. Her vision became hazy, distorted. Colors didn’t look right to her. Inanimate objects cackled at her, pointing and whispering. A woman’s terse voice echoed through her mind: Get up, Alethea! Get up and fight him!

  Her hair was wet and matted against her face. “Devendra?” she asked aloud to the voice in her head.

  She heard Lokee laugh. His voice seemed far away, though she knew he was still standing over her.

  Get up!

  “No . . . please, no. I can’t . . .”

  Get up, now! What are you doing? Get UP!

  The pain. Why wasn’t she healing? Oh, pain. Pain that lasted more than only a few moments. What was this?

  “What?” he demanded, without the least bit of softness for the damage he had already inflicted upon her. “You can’t what?” he ordered, crouching down to lean his face closer to hers.

  She could only close her eyes and form words with her lips. The pain in her ribs returned and was too sharp—she couldn’t expend the energy to speak.

  Silently, she begged for death to take her. She visualized an empty grave. She opened her eyes and searched the room for Azrael, the only one she had left to plead with in these final moments of judgment. She half-smiled when she saw him sitting solemnly in the window.