Lothaire (Immortals After Dark #12)(115)

“You will pay, Dorada! My sister—”

“Sends her regards.” Dorada shut her eye and snatched closed her fist.

Blackness spread before Saroya, the prophecy repeating over and over as her consciousness began to dim.

It is foretold that La Dorada, the Queen of Evil and of Golds, a sorceress of great power, will destroy Saroya the Soul Reaper, Goddess of Divine Death, condemning her to the Ether that spawned her, forever as formless as the chaos whence she sprang. . . .

Foretold. A self-fulfilling prophecy. Dark. Silent. Cold.

Nothingness.

Saroya’s last thought: My actions had a consequence.





47


Elizabeth collapsed to the ground, her body limp. Hours seemed to tick by as Lothaire—and Dorada—waited for her to wake. Waiting . . .

At last, she rose, shooting upright in a rush, anxiously patting her chest. “Saroya’s gone?” Elizabeth faced him. “Ah, God, she’s gone!”

Lothaire’s jaw slackened as he gazed upon her, taking in her radiant skin and vivid eyes. Those lips shaped like a bow . . .

Before, her allure had tantalized him. Freed of Saroya, his female was irresistible.

The being inside Elizabeth must have diluted his need for her. Now it was as if the fierce desire and protectiveness he’d felt for her had been multiplied exponentially.

Then injected straight into his heart.

My Bride. This was what everyone spoke of.

Elizabeth’s face . . . as if a stained-glass window had shattered to let pure light shine in; she was ablaze with utter beauty— “Kill her, Lothaire,” Dorada said.

Fighting her control, he made his tone scornful. “Why would I bother? You’ve taken Saroya from me.”

“In case this mortal is your actual Bride.”

Before, his own vows had chained him—now that he was freed of them, he felt more powerful than he’d ever been. Elizabeth was a beacon focusing everything inside him. “I will never harm her. And you know I can’t lie.”

“I suspected she was your Bride. Now I command you to kill her.”

“I don’t give a f*ck, sorceress.” The only thing stronger than Dorada’s hold over him? Elizabeth’s hold on me. “You can’t compel me to hurt her. You’re not fully healed, and you’ve just debilitated yourself to kill a goddess. I will fight you till neither of us has any strength left to hurt Elizabeth.”

“I will make this simple,” Dorada snapped. “You kill her. Or I will force you to kill yourself.”

He laughed. “Then make it slow for me, súka. I like foreplay.”

“Slow, Lothaire? I have all the time in the world to watch you peel your skin from your body.”

“No!” Elizabeth rushed to stand protectively in front of him. “Please don’t do this, Dorada!”

The sorceress didn’t even acknowledge her. “I want you to remove your flesh like a shirt, vampire. I’ll make one of my beasts wear it till it rots from his body.”

“You are the one who dresses them in . . . skin?” Elizabeth swallowed repeatedly, like she’d be sick.

“Start with your neck, Enemy of Old,” Dorada said. The Wendigos eased their ghastly bodies to the floor, settling in for a show—and his remains.

He found his own claws slicing his skin at his neck. Can’t stop myself. . . .

“Wait!” Elizabeth cried. “Why not bargain with us?”



“You dare address me?” Dorada swung her creepy one-eyed gaze on Ellie.

“We have something you want,” she said, having no idea what she was doing.

Between the Wendigos, this mummy lady, Lothaire’s confession, and Saroya’s exorcism, her mind was so opened it’d nearly cracked wide.

Still she was trying to hold it together to save her vampire. “Lothaire’s accounting book of blood debts. Just stop with the mutilation for a minute, and let me tell you about it.”

Dorada waved at Lothaire to stop, then addressed her. “Explain.”

“There are thousands of debts. He’s worked forever on this. In exchange for lettin’ both of us live and troublin’ us no more, we’ll give you . . . half of the book.”

“And who is in debt? Lorean dregs?” Dorada unraveled a length of gauze, peeked at the seeping wound beneath, then sighed. “Weak-willed immortals?”

Ellie shook her head. “We’ve got kings, queens, gods. Good ones too—the ones you’ve got no hold over.” Making her voice stern, she said, “But you can’t be forcin’ Lothaire to hand it over just because he’s evil and you can control him like a Muppet. This has got to be an even trade.”

Dorada blinked her eye. “Why must it be?”

Good question. Think, Ellie, think! “For you to collect on these debts, they have to be willingly, uh, bestowed upon you.” That sounded logical. “If you take away his free will and steal the blood vows, they won’t be worth the paper they’re scribbled on.”

To Lothaire, Dorada said, “You may speak. Does this book exist?”

Ellie had expected him to roar over this, refusing to trade his life’s work.

Instead, he’s gazing at me as if with . . . awe.

“The book is exactly as my Bride says.” Lothaire-speak. The book part was, but the free-will part wasn’t.