Chapter Fifty-two
We left the door open, she realized.
All this time, they’d been concentrating on the wrong things. They’d been focused on the changes occurring when the worlds collided and they’d been focused on Cain. But what they should have been remembering was that before any of this had happened, Helena had used her power to stop Time in the alternate dimension.
And opened the door to the Dark World.
Now there were just over two dozen strangers in the field who’d apparently been transported there unwillingly, and there were monsters surrounding them a good quarter-acre deep in every direction around the edges of the field.
It would have taken her full days to sit down and describe the multitude and myriad of monsters that inhabited the realm she went to in that cursed sleep. There were fae, both Seelie and Unseelie, there were hybrids and dires, there were nightmarish conglomerates of a person’s worst fears, and there were the same run-of-the-mill supernaturals that she found as a warden in the waking world, such as vampires and werewolves.
In the Dark World there were eight-foot-tall beasts with extremely soft rainbow colored fur but mouths filled with rows of razor teeth and claws of chipped black stone that sliced an opponent to ribbons without trying. They had eyes the same iridescent white as the walls of a transportation portal and they were called Fearfells.
There were floating, tendril-wrapped clouds of purple gas called Cantorips, but in slang terms referred to as Sleepmists. If they managed to wrap an incorporeal tendril around you, it would slice into your flesh despite its gaseous state, and infuse your system with its slow-acting poison. It hurt. And when it made it to your heart, you would lose consciousness. The Cantorip would then proceed to envelop you and slowly absorb your vitality until you were in a coma.
The most beautiful or visibly impressive of the Dark World monsters were inarguably the Alacans. These magnificent beasts were equines the size of draft horses, replete with the furry legs of Clydesdales. Their eyes were bright burning yellow like the sun, and their fur was either jet black, snow white, or slate gray.
Then there were the massive wings, which against all reason were literally composed of not feathers, but flower petals or leaves. The petals and leaves were resistant to damage, holding up against wind and wear, but as soft and malleable as actual flower petals and leaves. They came in a rainbow of colors that shifted from one end of each seven-foot wing to the other and gave every Alacan a unique but ultimately pleasant fragrance.
Some smelled like springtime. There were even Alacan scents specific to certain blooms such as roses, cherry blossoms, or lavender. And some smelled like autumn, their orange-to-yellow plumage reminiscent of cinnamon, apple trees, and pumpkin patches.
These same flower petals or leaves composed an Alacan tail, thick and full, long and luxurious. It was a proud Alacan's most prized possession, despite the magnificence of their wings.
The one thing all Alacans had in common was their horn. The Alacan horn was two feet long, wound in a spiral of crystalline deep blood red, and was composed of pure gemstone similar to garnet or ruby. Most significant of all was that the horn was as sharp as razor blades.
There were countless tales in the Dark World of how the beauty of the Alacan had lured a victim in only to leave it impaled on the beast’s horn without warning. They were unpredictable and rumored to be apathetic. But that was an Unseelie fae for you.
The Peyton was an amber colored stag with shining fur, griffon-like wings, antlers with jagged edges like knives, and feathers cascading in more long, luxurious tails. As far as griffins were concerned, there were those in the DW too. But the Dark World’s griffons were all black, and rather than half eagle, half lion, they were half vulture, half dire dog. They were enormous and terrifying, giving off an aura of fear that kept would-be thieves away from their finds or kills.
There were so many beasts in the alternate dimension, both kind and unkind. And there were so many monsters in the Dark World. As Helena’s gaze skirted the outline of the trees around the field, she realized the creatures gathered there were a mix of both. Good and bad. Animal and monster.
What she didn’t see any sign of were the ones she simply called the Terrors.
But Helena didn’t want to think about those. She’d never come up with another name for them, and as far as she knew there was no other name for the monster. She was the only person she had ever heard of who’d come face to face with one and lived to tell about it.
Right now, these beasts and a host of others she had never even encountered during her time as warden gathered in thick droves around the outskirts of the field and stayed there. As if waiting.
At the center of the field, the man called Ahriman remained as he was, arms out, eyes closed. Even from where she stood, Helena could feel that man’s power. It was immense, almost stifling. The women beside him felt no less powerful. The blonde was Amunet. Cain’s mother. And then there was a redheaded woman who was apparently her sister.
Amunet turned to Helena, bypassing her “sister” to slowly walk toward the new Time Queen. “So tell me, Miss Dawn,” she said, “how are you liking your stint as sovereign so far?”
Helena’s chest pounded. The closer Amunet got, the thicker the air and the harder it was to breathe. William tried to nudge her behind him again, but she wouldn’t let him. Something in her reared its stubborn head again, and she stood her ground, staring the woman down.
“Because I hope you know it’s a difficult job,” continued Amunet. “These men and women aren’t welcoming you into their fold out of love. Not like I would have.” She shook her head. “They’re doing so because they need you. They think you’re the final piece to their evil-killing puzzle.” She glanced over her shoulder at the others as she continued to walk. “Isn’t that right?”
But no one said anything. So she turned back to Helena.
“You see, some of your new friends are seers, like my sister Katrielle,” Amunet continued. “And those seers claim they’ve beheld a prophecy.” She laughed. “That only Thirteen Queens can defeat us.” She shrugged. “I don’t know how fast you can count, but without you, they’re only a dozen. You, my dear, are lucky number thirteen.”
She stopped about ten feet away, and Helena could see the slowly burning fire of hatred at the center of her honey colored eyes. “You destroyed my family to be a part of these people,” she told Helena with a sweeping gesture of her arm to indicate the other couples on the field. “And you don’t even know who they are, do you?”
Helena blinked. She was well past confused. She’d sped by confused going two hundred miles an hour at least thirty miles ago. And now she also suddenly felt very out of place. Amunet had her on this one. She didn’t know who anyone here was. Except William.
“Allow me to introduce you to your new teammates,” said Amunet, turning away from her as if she had all the time in the world to stall the monsters and hold the fight at bay. Based on the easy, calm manner in which her male companion controlled the Dark World and other-dimensional beasts at the tree line, Helena was thinking that might be the case.
“That over there is the Vampire King Roman D’Angelo and his little vampire bride Evelynne,” she said with a smile that was nothing if not mocking. She shot Helena a look. “Believe it or not, D’Angelo is considered the ‘king of kings’ amongst this motley lot.” She laughed derisively. “But there’s no accounting for taste.”
Roman and Evelynne, for their parts, just watched her in silence.
Amunet moved a little further away, her attention on the next couple now.
“That one there is the Goblin King, Damon and that’s his wife Diana. He’s an outcast, and she’s a veterinarian.” She gave the information as if she were reciting lines from a dating show, and the amusement in her tone was palpable.
She glanced back at Helena briefly. “If you recall, they were the first couple to join us after I sent out my summons. Damon must be so lonely as the Banished One, the two were probably just rearing to be included in something.”
Damon and Diana did what Roman and Evelynne had done. They watched and remained silent, clearly refusing to be baited with the sabre rattling.
Amunet moved on. “That is the Phantom King and Queen, Thanatos and Siobhan. If you think her name is hard to pronounce, you should try spelling it,” she joked. “Thane is in charge of the wrongly dead – did I get that right, handsome?”
Thanatos said nothing. His gaze was silver-white and starkly beautiful, but his handsome face showed no emotion at all.
Amunet smiled. “I’m betting I’ve kept you busy these last few days.”
She turned away from him and moved to the next couple. “And these four are the rulers of the Seelie and Unseelie fae realms. This is Avery and Selene. And this is Caliban and Minerva. The fae sisters here are Wishers.” She looked back at Helena. “Do you know what a Wisher is, young Time Queen?”
Helena of course had no freaking clue what the hell a Wisher was, but the name alone gave her hope. Because if a Wisher was named for what it could do, then maybe they had a chance against all of those monsters after all.
“Yes, they can grant wishes,” Amunet supplied happily. “But only in anger. Only in revenge.” She turned back to the two women who appeared to Helena to be polar opposites of one another – one with black hair, the other with hair so fair it was white. “You can only exact pain and suffering, isn’t that right?” she cooed as if the two were babies. “But that’s okay, sweethearts. I know how you feel.”
She looked back at Helena. “As for their husbands,” she shrugged, speaking of the two men behind her as if they weren’t there. “Well they’re Tuathans. Fae known for being fae, basically. They stand around and look beautiful and tough in their layers of glamour, but it’s their wives who pack the punches.”
She left the four fae and moved on to the next group without a care in the world, and Helena has never, ever felt so bewildered. All she could think was that everyone else in that field was standing there allowing Amunet to go on and on for the same reason she was. They had no idea what else to do.
After all, if Amunet and her friend were powerful enough to bring all of these kings and queens to the field without their consent, and stronger still in that they controlled the Dark World monsters, what would possibly hurt them? Were they as immortal as William? As un-killable? More so? What else did they control? Did she even want to find out?
“These two are the Demon sovereigns, if you can wrap your head around that,” said Amunet with a snarky tone. “And not only Demon but Akyri. Now I know what you’re thinking. Or at least I know what you’d be thinking if you knew anything about this world at all. You’d be thinking, ‘Wait, aren’t Akyri and demons the same thing?’ And you’d be right. But Steven – yes, Steven, I know – and Dahlia here rule over not one kingdom, but two. And believe me, the two realms are nothing alike.”
She left the blond man and dark haired woman and made her unending way to the next couple in the field. “And here we have the Winter Kingdom’s finest, Kristopher Scaul and Poppy Nix. She’s the migraine-suffering, coffee-drinking warlock with a temper, and he’s the formidable former Viking with a chip on his shoulder. Don’t they make a lovely pair?”
She moved on.
“Here is the Shadow Kingdom’s darkest inhabitant, Keeran Pitch. Also known as Wolfram. Or Lovelace. Hell, he has more names than a Nomad,” she laughed. “And this is the lovely and shrinking Violet, his wife.” She waved her hand dismissively. “She’s a warlock or something too.”
She’s more than that, thought Helena. She could sense the inhuman in the beyond beautiful woman named Violet. And it was the same vibration of energy she got off Dahlia, the Demon Queen. It was so similar in fact, Helena couldn’t help but wonder whether these two might be related as well.
“Here we have the Nightmare King and Queen –” Amunet stopped and glanced again at Helena. “Not your kinds of nightmares, mind you, but pretty grotesque all the same.” She turned and eyed the Nightmare King with obvious approval. “Though I have to admit that in their human forms, they’re pleasing to the eye. It makes sense; Nightmares are actually incubi.”
Helena couldn’t argue with any of that. They were hot. The Nightmare King could give a ninety-year-old hot flashes.
“This one’s double the trouble in bed, too,” continued Amunet. “Seeing as how he’s actually two Nightmares in one. Aren’t you Nicholas? Or do you prefer Nero?”
Nicholas or Nero – whichever he was at the moment – simply narrowed his gaze on the dark haired woman. His face was passive, but Helena caught something in there anyway. It was distaste or displeasure, as if he were seeing something in front of him that no one else could see, and it was butt-ugly.
Amunet ignored the look and moved on. Helena was trying very hard to not only compartmentalize the information but to search amidst it for a clue that would help her, help them all, defeat the Night Terrors.
“There you have the Shifter King and Queen, all ready to pop and grind into new forms this very minute, I’d imagine. Samantha is the legendary ‘magishifter,’” she said, making the quotes sign with her fingers, “and can take on the forms of any supernatural monster. Supposedly.” She winked at the woman. “I’m betting you’ve never had a crack at some of these guys.” She gave a little nod to the tree line and its crowd of beasts and made her way to the next waiting couple.
They were running out of sovereign couples now. It would soon be time for Helena and the others to do something once and for all.
“And this is the Warlock King Jason, and his little sex slave Chloe. Oh yes, don’t think I don’t know all about your particular tastes in the bedroom, handsome. After all you share them with half the Kings here.” She grinned. Then her grin slipped and she raised both brows and nodded. “Make that pretty much all of them.”
Helena, for her part was utterly flummoxed by the woman’s behavior and introductions, but the Warlock King and Queen seemed completely unfazed. They continued to stoically watch Amunet just like everyone else there.
“And at last we come to the Dragon King… and the Dragon Queen.” Now Amunet stopped before the couple, and she zeroed in on the Dragon Queen with the kind of attention that could only be personal.
The Dragon Queen was a beautiful woman, one of the most lovely Helena had ever seen – but then every woman in that field was gorgeous. The Dragon Queen shared Helena’s blue-black hair and fair skin, but her eyes were such a luminous purple, Helena could see the color across the field. She was tall and she looked strong. And right now she stood perfectly still, her arms crossed over her chest, her expression readily defiant.
“You could have been so much more Evangeline,” Amunet told her, clearly speaking to the Dragon Queen alone. “But you spurned your chance at greatness for this.” She glanced meaningfully at the man beside her, a tall, dark and handsome man like most of the men in the field. Helena felt the woman’s hatred swell. “And so you will get… this.”
Amunet stepped back.
Her companion at the center of the field raised his arms a little more. He opened his eyes, and illumination flashed from them like they were lighthouses. The Night Terrors all along the tree line slowly ebbed inward like a tide of death.