18
Underworld
Moonlight washed the stretch of quiet, empty field. Snow swirled around the large, dark mound of earth that was Westwarden Barrow. And within it was one of the few magical entrances to the labyrinth that led to the Underworld.
With her goal in her sights, Miranda lengthened her strides, until she was almost running across the uneven field, holding her sable-lined velvet cloak tightly at her throat, trying not to stumble.
Zayan grasped her wrist and pulled her back with such force, she fell against him. He stopped dead. “Wait, Miranda,” he cautioned. Maelstroms of snow spun at his face, but his silver eyes fixed harshly on her. “I sense he was here, but I am not letting you rush into the Underworld to save Lukos from himself. You will wait out here while I go within.”
“I would have thought you knew me better by now, Zayan.”
Miranda pulled her hand free of his grasp and sped up her pace.
“I faced the Pravus Semper. I might be afraid to face Lucifer, but I’m not going to cower in fear. And if it is true, that we have all bonded through a love shared between three, then I believe our best chance to defeat the devil is to be together.”
Zayan growled, and she knew he had no argument against her logic. She appreciated his need to keep her safe, but there were some things worse than death. And she knew of one—living a lifetime of regret and sorrow for not being there to protect a loved one.
Both Zayan and Lukos had lived through an eternity of grief and regret—Zayan over his children, and Lukos for his sister, Ara.
During their voyage here, when Zayan had magically shifted her shape again and allowed her to fly, he had insisted, in her thoughts, that she should turn back. She knew he had only allowed her to come with him because she had glimpsed this place in his mind. He had tried to shutter it from her, but she believed his worry over her had weakened his mind and allowed her to see his thoughts when she had touched his chest.
She was certain he knew she would have come alone if necessary.
Ahead, the barrow looked fancifully like a slumbering dragon that had curled up on the field. Zayan had sprinted ahead of her, making it easy to find the entrance—in seconds, he stood in front of it with his arms crossed over his chest.
Shouldn’t love mean she and her men would not be adversaries again? It didn’t, though. Lukos has flown away before she could argue with him. Zayan was determined to do nothing but argue with her tonight.
Behind Zayan’s broad body, Miranda spied the narrow opening topped by a thick stone lintel in the earth-covered banks.
Fallen rocks filled part of the doorway.
“Let me pass,” she said simply.
But like the rocks piled there for a millennium, he did not move. Sighing, Miranda stepped to him, rested her hand on his crossed arms, and leaned up to kiss him. She brushed a tender peck to his firm, unyielding mouth.
“Flirtation will not weaken my resolve.” But his voice sounded hoarse, as it had done in their shared bed when he was aroused for her. “I intend to wait until you turn around and walk back to the carriage.” He had summoned a coach from the nearest village by the will of his mind, when they had flown there.
She’d wondered why he had wanted a carriage—now she knew. It was a place to deposit her, to keep her out of the way.
“I could follow you in,” she argued.
“I’d sense you, love. Give me your word that you will not.”
She tried darting around him, but when she moved quickly, dizziness struck her and she lost her balance. She almost fell headlong on the pile of rocks in the doorway.
Zayan grabbed her arm. “Whatever your power is, you are not a witch or a demon. You give life—which, in my mind, makes you closer to a goddess. Entering the Underworld could suck the power from you. It could destroy you.”
She wished the fiercely protective gleam in his eyes did not leave her breathless. “I am dying anyway, Zayan. This is my last hope.”
But his grip tightened. “I am afraid this is a trap, Miranda.
The Pravus is considered the feminine form of evil. I believe she lied to Lukos to lure him here; she tempted him with the one thing that would send him stupidly back into Lucifer’s lair.
Lucifer gambled you would follow. Lucifer and the Pravus could be two halves of one whole. Man and woman. Combined, they represent the whole of evil in the world. I think Lucifer wants your power.”
“You think he wants to capture me?” she asked slowly. At Zayan’s curt nod, she tipped up her chin. “Then I had best go in. How else will he capture me if I don’t?”
Zayan’s jaw dropped. Her cavalier words had left him so stunned she readily slipped past him and scrambled up the rocks. At the very top of the pile, she spotted a small hole. Fortunately, she was slim and tiny. In a blink of an eye, she was inside.
* * *
Blasted snow. It whirled around Zayan suddenly, blinding him. It had changed to hail, into stinging lumps of ice that pelted him. Snow could halt an army in its tracks. It could crush a man and smother him. It had the power to destroy a mountainside and raze trees.
And, damnation, he had tried to stop the snow with his magic, but it had not worked. Which meant that here, so close to the Underworld, his power was drained.
Zayan ripped out a large rock from the walled-up entrance and tossed it over his shoulder. Three more quickly followed, shaking the ground as they hit. Hades, this threesome magic was not going to work. He wanted to possess Miranda for his own. He had captured entire civilizations for Rome. He had taken thousands of slaves, treasures worth a king’s ransom. He was not a man who willingly shared.
But he had to. That was the madness of it. If he did not learn to play nice with Lukos and share, Miranda would die.
Cursing below his breath, Zayan plunged into the tunnel that led into the burial chamber of the burrow. He scented Miranda—the sweet, fresh smell of her. Here in the dark, with the snow hurtling behind him, Miranda smelled of sunshine.
Her gown swished, revealing to him she was striding somewhere in the dark ahead. In a heartbeat, he could see her—the gold of her hair, the fluttering movement of her cloak. He rushed forward with inhuman speed, caught her as she ducked low, and stepped into a stone chamber.
At least she did not try to outrun him, or even to shake him off. She looked relieved on seeing him. With a shudder, she whispered, “I glimpsed Lukos’s thoughts before. I saw what he went through to enter the Underworld. I saw what we have to face to get from here—”she swept her hand to encompass the room—“to Lucifer.”
Zayan surveyed the chamber they were in. Primitive. Large stone blocks fashioned the walls, and long, broad flat stones had been laid across them to make a roof. Dirt had been mounded over top. Inside, there was nothing except a stone table that held a chalice and spear. There were hundreds of these burial chambers across the country. But this one was not a grave. It was an entrance.
“There is a portal,” Zayan said gently, “but mortals do not survive passing through it.” Miranda was not entirely mortal.
Did that make her safe? If Lucifer did want her, he would acquire her. For now, Zayan would play the devil’s game. He would make it appear he was allowing Miranda to go in search of her beloved Lukos. “Most mortals, though, do not possess magic.” He heard the heart-wrenching sound of Miranda swallowing. To moisten a dry, frightened throat, he suspected.
“Have you been here?” she asked.
“No.” But he had heard the tales from demons who had.
“There are tests. The very instant you cross the threshold of the labyrinth, you will believe a thousand insects are crawling on your skin. Most people rake themselves bloody tearing at them.
But they exist only in your mind. You have to remember that, Miranda.”
She gaped at him, and he could hear the rapid beat of her heart—an undercurrent to the motionless air in the tomb and the suffocating sensation of silence.
“It’s a test, love. Entering the Underworld is not as simple as rapping on the doorknocker of a London home.”
Miranda looked grim. But her lips lifted in an ironic smile, and he knew she had found courage. “I know that. I am not afraid. But I truly hate bugs.”
Zayan clasped her hand in his and led her to the most easterly side of the chamber. He quickly found the rough circle, made of stone laid in the earthen floor of the chamber. Miranda stared at it, slowly turning to examine it. Zayan crouched and touched four of the stones, one after the other—the stones that would make the points on a compass. Suddenly the earth dissolved beneath their feet but instead of falling, both he and Miranda lowered slowly to a chamber below. As their feet touched the rough, rocky surface beneath them, the hole above them sealed over. His vision easily detected the series of pitch-black tunnels leading off in different direction. And his demonic senses allowed him to immediately select the one they wanted.
“Welcome, Miranda, to the labyrinth,” Zayan murmured.
Something was crawling up her neck. It moved slowly, a tickle along her skin. It was driving her mad. There had to be something there. It felt so real. It even . . . slithered . . .
Miranda choked down a scream. In the darkness of the tunnel, she couldn’t see anything, not even her own hands, but her mind could not possibly play tricks like this. She had to get it off her neck—
Zayan’s hand closed around her forearm, restraining her.
“Don’t touch. Don’t scratch. Once you begin, you won’t stop.
You’ll claw at your skin until you tear through it. Until you are so desperate and mad, you gouge your eyes out.”
“It’s real,” she gasped. She knew what he had done . . . “You lied to me when you said it was all in my mind. You did it so I wouldn’t panic—” Something tickled her cheek. “This is real.
All these horrid little legs are really walking on my skin.”
Zayan’s left hand, surrounded by a faint emerald green glow, settled on her shoulder. The glow slowly washed over her body, and the revolting sensation of a million little insect feet on her flesh vanished.
She turned gratefully to Zayan, then shrieked.
He was covered in insects. These were real—awful, crawling, smelly ones. And everywhere on his body.
Casually, he blew one away from his lips, before grinning at her. In the dark, his eyes had turned an eerie blood red—the same vivid red as the Pravus. She reached out, intending to brush a—a large, ugly, furry spider off his back—
He caught her hand. “Don’t,” he repeated calmly. “Once we pass far enough, they’ll vanish.”
“Aren’t they biting you?”
“Of course. I’m undead, so they can fill me with as much venom as they want.”
He was mad, utterly mad. Bugs were literally dripping off him, clinging to his cloak, vanishing into his long, thick hair, yet Zayan stormed relentlessly onward. Every inch the Roman general. Yet now, when she looked at him, Miranda saw more of the devoted father.
She cringed with her every step. Zayan waited, then grasped her hand.
Once they had soldiered onward for another yard along the rocky passage, the insects began to buzz, and the sound heightened until it was a high-pitched scream that rattled Miranda’s teeth in her head and made her ears pound. She clamped her hands to her head to block out the sound.
It grew so bad, she feared her head would burst.
Then it stopped and the bugs had vanished. The green glow faded from her body, and she felt . . . normal. Her skin no longer felt as though it were alive with insects, and the horrid, rancid smell of them was gone.
Zayan had protected her from the worst of it, and as she looked up, he gave her a slow smile.
“What’s next?” she asked.
“The succubi.”
Shuddering, Miranda remembered the vision she’d had of Lukos and the woman in this place. Zayan inclined his handsome head. “What would the devil be without an army of female slaves designed to fuck you to death?”
She caught her breath at his coarse word, and his smile—a smile that would encourage any succubus to leap upon him.
“You are enjoying this.” It was a battle—and he had lived for battle. He all but burned with excitement now. Was that who
Zayan was at his core—a general in constant need of a war? Did it mean he could ever accept peace and happiness? Could he ever be content with love?
Miranda swallowed hard. She had to find Lukos, or she would die. Her world, for the last few days, had shrunk down to the immediate—live or die, fight or be destroyed, seek the truth or perish if she didn’t find it. She had not thought of the future.
She had an impoverished baron for a brother, and a lovely, thoroughly normal sister-in-law. But she was in love with two vampires. How could she ever think to blend those two worlds? Did loving Zayan and Lukos mean leaving her family forever? And she did not have forever. As far as she knew, she was mortal.
She would die and they would live on without her.
She shook off the thoughts. Right now, she was very, very mortal—she felt her strength fade with each passing minute.
Come forward. Come to us. Oh, come to us, please.
Soft, melodic feminine voices seemed to fill her mind. The sound was lovely, like the whisper of a breeze through leaves on a decadently warm summer’s day or like the gentle music of a brook. Their voices, while faint, were low-pitched and filled with aching need.
Miranda tensed, certain the women would appear around Zayan.
She was not prepared for a female hand to come out of nowhere, reach out, and squeeze her breast. This one is delectable.
Her breasts are full and ripe. The nipple puckered as soon as my fingers brushed. And it is so perfectly round.
A flush swept down from Miranda’s cheeks to bathe her throat and chest. “Show yourselves,” she demanded, hoping the waver in her voice was not so obvious.
Of course, came the melodic answer in a chorus of high-pitched voices. Mist streamed through the dark, then swiftly took solid form. Six women. They stood in order of height. All were naked—why was she surprised? Each was an astonishing beauty. All possessed glossy hair that flowed to their hips. Two had red hair, two were dark haired, and the last pair had golden blond tresses, paler than hers.
One of the blondes clapped her hands. Look at him. He is so very beautiful—
Wait! Look at his eyes.
The naked women all stared at Zayan. His dark, reflective eyes had become narrowed slits and the irises glowed red between his lids.
This one was made by the power of blood. By the Pravus Semper.
One of the redheads moved forward, her hips swinging alluringly. I am strong enough for him. Come, sisters. Three of us together can have him. The power of three will be enough.
Miranda jerked in surprise. The power of three?
Three women rushed to her. She was pulled to a divan that appeared out of nowhere, that looked like a soft, white cloud.
Six surprisingly powerful arms pushed her down on it. The softness broke her fall. Hands hurriedly tore at her clothes, opening her cloak, then wresting the buttons of her gown free.
“Stop!” she cried. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied one succubus drop to her knees in front of Zayan’s crotch, and another bend to fondle, then kiss, his derriere. All the while he laughed, while the third woman lifted her large breasts to point her nipples suggestively at his mouth.
“Leave me,” he rumbled. “Pleasure my partner. I would like to see her with six naked women intent on making her come.”
Miranda sputtered in shock. The women chorused, “No, sir.
We have waited so long for another man to venture here. We have been so lonely, so empty inside. We wish you to fill us, fill us all.”
“Our cunnies,” the blonde cried.
“And I would like your rigid rod inside my rump,” added the brunette.
“It would give me the greatest pleasure to suck you,” whispered the redhead.
Miranda gasped as a warm waft of air teased her breasts. She had been so intent on watching Zayan, she hadn’t noticed the women ease down her bodice. Two women bent to her breasts as one, tongues out, licking her curves. Eagerly, they both took her nipples into their mouths and suckled vigorously.
She melted. There was no other word for it. As the women teased her erect nipples with their hot mouths, her lower body felt like liquid honey. An orgasm rippled through her—in slow, deliciously gentle waves of pleasure. But they did not have time to waste. “We want to go to the Underworld,” she said crisply, pushing the women away. She felt like a puddle of desire, but pulled up her bodice. “We must go to Lucifer. I believe,” she added, “that he wants me.”
Five of the women retreated, but one of the brunettes stepped forward. An evil smile played on her lips. “Indeed, he does.
And we should not delay you from your appointment with our master. But there is only one way to enter his lair. You must be either dead—or undead.”
“I am not either.” As she spoke, she backed up on the divan.
She saw a red mist suddenly wrap around Zayan. He roared, struggled against it, and threw magic at it, but it held him. She’d expected a blow from the brunette—but another hand launched out and a blade glinted. The blade hit her throat and dug into her flesh.
Then the lethally sharp edge swiped across her neck. It tickled at first, then stung. Coldness seeped into her throat. Then the pain was excruciating and her throat filled with fluid.
It must be her blood.
She couldn’t breathe.
“Damnation!” Zayan stumbled toward her, as she helplessly clutched at her throat. Sickeningly, the blood poured over her hands. A pass of his hand, and searing purple light hit her throat.
The blood stopped, but her hands fell away. She couldn’t control them. They were numb. She could not focus on the women anymore. Her body was limp.
Zayan pressed his arm to her mouth. She could not understand why. Magic? What did he want her to do?
“Drink, angel. Drink now.”
Something smeared her lip. She tasted copper and sweetness, and it flowed suddenly. But she was growing weaker—
“It’s not working,” he roared.
Miranda felt her arm lift. She had not commanded it to do so—Zayan had clasped her hand and he was moving it. He pressed her hand to her heart and laid his overtop. “Don’t—”
His raspy voice broke. “You can’t die. I won’t allow it.” Dimly, she saw him tip his head back and shout to the darkness, “I will trade my life for hers. My power—damn you, you can have it all.”
Warmth. She knew the familiar warmth of her own power, but it flowed down her arm, through her heart, and back to her arm again. A circle. An impossible loop giving her life.
She struggled to sit up. Suddenly, her hand flew up. She’d been trying to lift it, and it unexpectedly moved at her command.
She touched her throat. Afraid. But her fingertips skimmed over smooth skin. There was no wound.
“You’re alive,” Zayan said in amazement. Then she heard the choked laughter. A broken sob of relief. In his eyes, she saw joy—the same deep happiness he had shown toward his children.
She managed to nod.
“I couldn’t change you.” He sounded more frightened than she had ever heard him. “I could not make you into a vampire.
It was your own power that saved you.”
“I’m not undead.” And, thankfully, not dead. But she couldn’t enter hell unless she was.
Wrong, my dear angel. A deep baritone flooded the room, echoing in her head.
Miranda felt the air whip around her, like frothed cream.
The succubi disappeared. The divan remained beneath her, thank heaven, for she was laid out on it, her arms spread wide, her chest heaving to catch breath.
She flew up into the air off the sofa. She reached down and clasped Zayan’s wrist, as though he could keep her moored to the ground. He held her tight, and she saw his stark fear.
Then everything around her, the chaise, the rock walls and floor and ceiling of the passage, vanished.
The darkness melted away.
Miranda was aware of white. White surrounded her, so pure and gleaming it was almost painfully blinding. It wasn’t a bright light—it was a solid space with a floor and walls. A gentle rushing sound flooded her ears. For several moments, she could not believe what she was looking at.
This was the Underworld?
Miranda felt as though she was in a seraglio; she had seen paintings of the eastern harems. She stood in a room entirely covered in white tiles, though fanciful patterns of small colored tiles decorated the arched openings and the floor. The scene reminded her of the ones she had seen through the eyes of Mucius Gaius. Water cascaded down a series of steps, to splash in a luxurious pool in the center of the massive room. Women reclined around the pool or sat on the edge and lazily kicked their legs in the blue depths. The soft sound of their conversations, the hushed murmurs, the giggles, danced like seductive music in the humid air.
Where were the fires? The eternal darkness? The brimstone?
Desperately, Miranda turned in a slow circle. She could not see Zayan. There were no men at all in the room—except one.
He was naked, and horns rose from his sharp-featured and merciless-looking face. He reclined amongst silks and pillows, but steam in the air from the water hung like a veil in front of him. Through it, she could make out the long, curved horns, then broad shoulders, a chest heavy with muscle. She’d expected a creature like a satyr, with the hindquarters of a beast, but he possessed human legs. And a massive erection that had to be two feet in length.
“Approach, my lovely Miranda,” he urged. His voice filled the bathing room. It wasn’t loud, it simply consumed her every sense. It was as though she could also taste his voice and smell it. It sent a quiver of awareness down her spine. Though she tried to fight her instinctive reaction, her nipples tightened, her quim grew warm and wet.
“Where is Zayan?” she called out, and her voice echoed off the tile. The other women ignored her as though she did not exist. “And Lukos? What have you done to him?”
“No curiosity about me, my dear? Or perhaps you would like to see me in a more palatable form.”
He changed—she watched him the entire time, stared at him, and she could not explain how his face distorted, how his body took on a new shape, how his hair changed from an unearthly red-black to a pale silvery blond.
In mere moments, the transformation was done.
She was staring in to the handsome sky-blue eyes of Mr. Ryder.
“After all, my angel,” Lucifer said through Mr. Ryder’s beautiful mouth, as he rose from his silver throne, “all people who surrender to the temptation of evil have a little bit of the devil in them. You are perhaps one of the few mortals I have encountered who does not. Which is why you can walk here without harm, and why you have the power to give life. The Pravus was the embodiment of evil. I do not know what you are—there are more things in heaven and hell than even Satan can contemplate.” He stopped and bestowed a wicked smile on her. “But I believe you are the embodiment of love. When you love, you give life.”
The embodiment of love. The words stunned her, stealing her capacity to speak.
Lucifer clapped his hands again and the wall behind him disappeared. Miranda saw a sheer wall of gray rock. And Lukos chained to it, hand and foot.
An evil chuckle rippled up her spine.
“You are too late, Miranda. Lukos made his deal with me.
His sister has been freed, and he is now mine. Your love cannot rescue him. I won’t take anything in trade. You are mine, whether I free him or not.”
No, she wasn’t. She would not be. “Where is Zayan?” she croaked.
“Imprisoned within rock in the labyrinth.”
Damn the devil and his bloody silver shackles and his damned cell carved into a wall of rock. Zayan roared his anger, but the rock in front of him was brushing his nose. His shout bounced around in the narrow opening in which he was confined, almost deafening him.
Two stoop-backed stinking demon serfs had chained him here; then Lucifer had clapped his hands and a wall of rock had slammed down in front of him.
Where was Miranda?
He’d been a damned fool to let her come here. The devil was the most powerful evil being in existence. How could he have dreamed he could protect Miranda from Lucifer?
Miranda, who had, against all odds and all that was possible, given him his children back. He would do anything for her.
There had to be a way out. He’d defeated the Gauls with his wits more than his might. Even the most powerful army would fall if led by an idiot.
He had to think . . .
Whatever Lucifer wanted from Miranda, he would not take it quickly. The devil would believe he had all eternity to do it.
Zayan?
He heard it. The whisper of Miranda’s voice—that soft, husky, bewitching sound. She spoke his name. She was searching for him.
He threw his thoughts to her—a reassurance he was safe and alive, but imprisoned. A promise he would escape to rescue her.
Where are you?
Essentially I am in the devil’s bathtub.
What?
I thought hell was a place of putrid brimstone and fire. But the devil actually resides in a pristine-white bathing chamber like an indulgent sultan.
He marveled at the trace of humor in her voice. Miranda was remarkably strong. The devil shows you what he believes you want to see, to entrance you and entice you before he takes your soul. Stay strong, love, and resist him. I will come to you . . . Miranda?
But no answer came to him. Panicked, Zayan dragged hopelessly on the shackles and chains once more, but the magical silver held him tight. In anguish, he slammed his forehead against the rock.
Freeing Ara was worth his life, but he’d never dreamed Miranda would come for him. Lukos let his head lean back against the rock behind him so he could see Miranda’s face. Blood oozed from slowly healing cuts. In the Underworld, his vampiric powers were reduced. Pain lanced him everywhere. He had been beaten by Lucifer’s demons and tortured by Lucifer himself with burning rods.
Where was Ara? Lucifer had released her, but to where? As soon as the devil had agreed to the bargain—his life for her release and her safety—Lukos knew the mistake he’d made. He had not been specific enough. Lucifer could have sent Ara anywhere. She would be lost, alone, in a world that had changed drastically in the thousand years of her imprisonment.
She could be in danger.
And Miranda was in deadly peril. The feisty woman had faced Lucifer with her chin tipped up and courage gleaming in her blue eyes. He could sense her fear, but also her mastery of it. She amazed him.
Lukos, can you hear me?
Miranda’s words came to him. Yes. Are you hurt? he answered. How did you pass through the labyrinth? Christ Jesus, angel, the only way to enter Satan’s world is to—
No, not for me. Some horrid woman sliced my throat, but the wound healed and I survived. I was able to heal myself—
With your strength.
With all our strength, I think. Now that I have heard your voice and Zayan’s, I feel stronger again.
Not strong enough to defeat the devil, love.
No, she answered. Strong enough to save him.
Save him. What in blazes did she mean? Then he remembered her touching the small village children, and he remembered her resurrecting Zayan’s son and daughter. He knew what she was going to do. Don’t. Christ, Miranda, don’t go near him.
I love you, Lukos.
God, no. Miranda—don’t. Don’t touch him. He’ll kill you—
he’ll take your power. Stop, Miranda. Then desperately he shouted to her, I love you.
Miranda— Zayan’s hoarse voice broke into his shared communication with Miranda. I love you. I love you too. I believed I had to have you for my own. But my love for you is so great, so all-consuming, I’m willing to share.
“I am too,” Lukos hollered aloud. “Anything for you, angel.”
He fought in vain to free himself, and as he watched, magically, the scene in Lucifer’s lair, he saw Miranda calmly approach Lucifer—the being who had taken his life, then his soul, then his precious sister’s future and hopes and sanity. He would be damned if he let Lucifer take Miranda, the woman Lukos loved.
And then he saw something else.
Sparks of light crackled in the air around her.
Miranda had never felt so powerful before.
The declaration of love had heightened her magic. Her feet were not even touching the tiled floor. She moved her arm and her body floated. She felt as though she were sizzling. She felt like—like a bolt of lightning.
How could she have summoned so much magic here, in this place that was under Lucifer’s control?
It didn’t matter. Only one thing did.
“Stop there, woman. Do not approach me.”
Miranda obeyed Lucifer, and saw the slow smile of power come again to his mouth. Before her eyes, he shifted form again.
He was no longer handsome Mr. Ryder, but a beast with horns and fangs.
Confident, arrogant, the devil turned his attention to the woman splashing in the pool.
Miranda leapt into the air and flew across the room, quickly enough that Lucifer did not move or defend himself. In an instant, she was before him. He jerked around to her, his eyes blazing red. But she reached out and touched his chest, over his heart.