Burning Dawn
Page 23
Forgiven, yes, but not forgotten. “What will you do?”
Zacharel sighed. “Koldo was whipped when he enslaved his mother. What kind of leader would I be if I allowed another of my warriors—even if he is my second-in-command—to forgo the same?” He met Thane’s gaze dead-on. “Therefore, you will receive a lash of the whip for every warrior being tortured on your front lawn.”
That was to be a punishment? “Very well.” He wouldn’t let Zacharel know how much he enjoyed it. He would control his body’s reaction. Somehow.
“You won’t release them of your own volition?”
“No.”
“Even though you rush headlong into disaster?”
Even though. One day, the king of the Firebirds would return to camp, find it deserted, hear of Thane’s macabre courtyard, and come gunning for him. There would be a gruesome battle, for Ardeo’s decree that Thane be spared from a deathblow would give way to vengeance. But Thane would not relinquish his captives, even then.
And everyone around you will be placed in the line of fire.
He didn’t want to care. Wanted to glory in the same casual disregard he’d harbored before.
But...what if Bjorn or Xerxes were hurt? It would be his fault.
They are strong. They can protect themselves.
And what of Elin? The fragile human was now his responsibility. Unlike his friends, she would not recover if the Phoenix burned her alive. Their preferred method for eliminating someone of another race.
He worked two fingers over his jaw, the action so fierce he left welts behind. She is nothing. Means nothing.
A foul taste coated his tongue, and this time he knew what it was. An indication of a lie. Despite the fact that he hadn’t spoken a word. Irritated, confused, he ground his molars. She. Means. Nothing.
The foul taste intensified.
“I will take the lash,” he announced.
Zacharel’s nod was grave. “Very well.”
Leave us, he projected to Bjorn and Xerxes. He didn’t want the two to see this. They’d witnessed enough of each other’s torture.
Both shook their heads no. They would stay. They would watch. And they would support him.
“I played a part in this,” Xerxes said. “I will take the lash, as well.”
“As will I,” Bjorn said.
“No.”
“Yes,” they said in unison.
Guilt rose. They weren’t like him. They found no solace in pain, and had suffered too much already, when Thane had been unable to help them. Now, he couldn’t let them take his deserved punishment—especially since they were utterly undeserving.
Don’t do this, he pleaded. Go.
It’s already done, Xerxes said with a determined shake of his wings.
Together until the end, Bjorn said, his rainbow eyes fierce.
In unison, his friends removed the top half of their robes, gave Zacharel their backs, and sank to their knees. Ready.
Thane closed his eyes. He should let the Phoenix go. He—
Couldn’t.
Very well.
Hating himself, Thane followed suit. He spread his wings and wound them forward, around his arms and out of the way. He was lashed first, the leather biting into his wings, and then, when they were shredded, into his skin.
Any pleasure he felt was negated during Xerxes’s turn, then Bjorn’s. Neither displayed any type of reaction, but Thane couldn’t help but cringe with every blow.
“Now. Business,” Zacharel said after they had dressed. As if nothing had happened. He motioned to the cars driving along winding roads. Nothing more than ants on a hill beneath them. “A few days ago, William the Ever Randy’s daughter, White, was killed by the same Phoenix responsible for slaying King Ardeo’s beloved concubine.”
Thane focused. William. An immortal of questionable origins. A male without allegiance or conscience. A man with unequaled power. Thane had always admired him. He lived his life the way Thane wished to live his. Without regrets.
“The killer’s name was Petra,” Zacharel continued. “I say was, because William and his three sons ensured she would not regenerate.”
“How?”
“I’m not yet certain.”
Still, an interesting bit of knowledge Thane stored away. When he finished with Kendra, he wanted to ensure she was unable to regenerate, as well.
“William’s daughter, White...” Zacharel sighed.
She was the embodiment of subjection, and upon her death her spirit broke into millions of pieces, each like a bug, spreading throughout New York, infecting the humans unfortunate enough to be in the way. Their leader pushed the words inside their heads, perhaps not wanting the information floating away on the breeze to panic those who didn’t yet know. Demons used that subjection to their advantage and more easily possessed human bodies. Crime is now at an all-time high, and I have since learned from the Most High that one of the demons responsible for killing Germanus is using the violence as a cover, attempting to shield his whereabouts.
What do you want us to do? Bjorn asked.
All members of an army could communicate this way. Meaning, all members of an army were bonded through mental highways. Thane had never liked it, had only ever wanted such a connection with Bjorn and Xerxes. Because if voice could travel those roadways, so could thoughts. Memories. No one had a right to his secrets.
Go to New York and hunt the demon, Zacharel said.
And we’re, what? Xerxes replied. Supposed to bust into random homes and businesses, and hope we get lucky?
Thane scrubbed a hand down his face. Did the Most High offer any specifics?
A shake of Zacharel’s dark head. “I can tell you that evil always leaves a trail. Find the start of it, follow it, and then you will find the end of it.”
He made it sound easy. Thane knew it wouldn’t be. It never was. But he and his boys would persevere. They always did.
“Koldo, Axel, Malcolm, Magnus and Jamilla are already there, waiting for you.”
Thane arched a brow. “Waiting?” The most impatient warriors of all time? “Rather than hunting?”
“I realized I made a mistake, sending my people to different locations. It thinned our efforts. So, from this moment forward, we will work together. We will concentrate on catching only one of the six demons responsible for killing Germanus. Once that’s done, we will turn our efforts to a second, and so on.”
The snowball effect. One victory would prime everyone for the next.
Zacharel sighed. “Koldo was whipped when he enslaved his mother. What kind of leader would I be if I allowed another of my warriors—even if he is my second-in-command—to forgo the same?” He met Thane’s gaze dead-on. “Therefore, you will receive a lash of the whip for every warrior being tortured on your front lawn.”
That was to be a punishment? “Very well.” He wouldn’t let Zacharel know how much he enjoyed it. He would control his body’s reaction. Somehow.
“You won’t release them of your own volition?”
“No.”
“Even though you rush headlong into disaster?”
Even though. One day, the king of the Firebirds would return to camp, find it deserted, hear of Thane’s macabre courtyard, and come gunning for him. There would be a gruesome battle, for Ardeo’s decree that Thane be spared from a deathblow would give way to vengeance. But Thane would not relinquish his captives, even then.
And everyone around you will be placed in the line of fire.
He didn’t want to care. Wanted to glory in the same casual disregard he’d harbored before.
But...what if Bjorn or Xerxes were hurt? It would be his fault.
They are strong. They can protect themselves.
And what of Elin? The fragile human was now his responsibility. Unlike his friends, she would not recover if the Phoenix burned her alive. Their preferred method for eliminating someone of another race.
He worked two fingers over his jaw, the action so fierce he left welts behind. She is nothing. Means nothing.
A foul taste coated his tongue, and this time he knew what it was. An indication of a lie. Despite the fact that he hadn’t spoken a word. Irritated, confused, he ground his molars. She. Means. Nothing.
The foul taste intensified.
“I will take the lash,” he announced.
Zacharel’s nod was grave. “Very well.”
Leave us, he projected to Bjorn and Xerxes. He didn’t want the two to see this. They’d witnessed enough of each other’s torture.
Both shook their heads no. They would stay. They would watch. And they would support him.
“I played a part in this,” Xerxes said. “I will take the lash, as well.”
“As will I,” Bjorn said.
“No.”
“Yes,” they said in unison.
Guilt rose. They weren’t like him. They found no solace in pain, and had suffered too much already, when Thane had been unable to help them. Now, he couldn’t let them take his deserved punishment—especially since they were utterly undeserving.
Don’t do this, he pleaded. Go.
It’s already done, Xerxes said with a determined shake of his wings.
Together until the end, Bjorn said, his rainbow eyes fierce.
In unison, his friends removed the top half of their robes, gave Zacharel their backs, and sank to their knees. Ready.
Thane closed his eyes. He should let the Phoenix go. He—
Couldn’t.
Very well.
Hating himself, Thane followed suit. He spread his wings and wound them forward, around his arms and out of the way. He was lashed first, the leather biting into his wings, and then, when they were shredded, into his skin.
Any pleasure he felt was negated during Xerxes’s turn, then Bjorn’s. Neither displayed any type of reaction, but Thane couldn’t help but cringe with every blow.
“Now. Business,” Zacharel said after they had dressed. As if nothing had happened. He motioned to the cars driving along winding roads. Nothing more than ants on a hill beneath them. “A few days ago, William the Ever Randy’s daughter, White, was killed by the same Phoenix responsible for slaying King Ardeo’s beloved concubine.”
Thane focused. William. An immortal of questionable origins. A male without allegiance or conscience. A man with unequaled power. Thane had always admired him. He lived his life the way Thane wished to live his. Without regrets.
“The killer’s name was Petra,” Zacharel continued. “I say was, because William and his three sons ensured she would not regenerate.”
“How?”
“I’m not yet certain.”
Still, an interesting bit of knowledge Thane stored away. When he finished with Kendra, he wanted to ensure she was unable to regenerate, as well.
“William’s daughter, White...” Zacharel sighed.
She was the embodiment of subjection, and upon her death her spirit broke into millions of pieces, each like a bug, spreading throughout New York, infecting the humans unfortunate enough to be in the way. Their leader pushed the words inside their heads, perhaps not wanting the information floating away on the breeze to panic those who didn’t yet know. Demons used that subjection to their advantage and more easily possessed human bodies. Crime is now at an all-time high, and I have since learned from the Most High that one of the demons responsible for killing Germanus is using the violence as a cover, attempting to shield his whereabouts.
What do you want us to do? Bjorn asked.
All members of an army could communicate this way. Meaning, all members of an army were bonded through mental highways. Thane had never liked it, had only ever wanted such a connection with Bjorn and Xerxes. Because if voice could travel those roadways, so could thoughts. Memories. No one had a right to his secrets.
Go to New York and hunt the demon, Zacharel said.
And we’re, what? Xerxes replied. Supposed to bust into random homes and businesses, and hope we get lucky?
Thane scrubbed a hand down his face. Did the Most High offer any specifics?
A shake of Zacharel’s dark head. “I can tell you that evil always leaves a trail. Find the start of it, follow it, and then you will find the end of it.”
He made it sound easy. Thane knew it wouldn’t be. It never was. But he and his boys would persevere. They always did.
“Koldo, Axel, Malcolm, Magnus and Jamilla are already there, waiting for you.”
Thane arched a brow. “Waiting?” The most impatient warriors of all time? “Rather than hunting?”
“I realized I made a mistake, sending my people to different locations. It thinned our efforts. So, from this moment forward, we will work together. We will concentrate on catching only one of the six demons responsible for killing Germanus. Once that’s done, we will turn our efforts to a second, and so on.”
The snowball effect. One victory would prime everyone for the next.
