Page 57 of The Last Slayer
“You won’t need it.” He tossed the sword on the empty seat next to him. “Luck.”
That last word sounded a bit terse, but what could I do about his less than upbeat mood? I was beginning to think Nahemah was right. Four hundred years was a long time to hold a grudge. He needed to either have it out with her or get over it.
India led me outside. We walked along a smooth stone path into the heart of the dragonhold. Hundreds of tiny orb lights hovered around us and along the path, illuminating the way like so many floating drops of candleflame. The flowers I had noticed earlier had bloomed and shed crimson petals that lay like beads of blood against the black of the stones. Some had been crushed into a pulp that attracted strange beetle-like insects, which I found odd. Nahemah didn’t seem like the type to tolerate bugs in her garden.
Now that I had some peace and quiet, I started to wonder what “getting ready” really meant. It had better not be having an orgy with a bunch of strangers or enduring sexual torture. You never knew with psycho demigods. The whole porn flick scenario was never my thing—To Save her Sister and Stay Alive, our Nubile Heroine must Submit to Unspeakable Acts she’d Never Imagined were Possible!
Lame.
We turned a corner, and I gaped.
India stopped. “This is the Lunar Pool. Please take off your clothes and bathe yourself.”
Silver moonbeams gathered and swirled inside the pool and slapped its circular shores gently. Magic, fluid and mysterious, skimmed over the pearlescent surface. Rosebushes lined the banks, providing privacy and a faint perfume.
It was one of the most beautiful spots I’d ever seen.
“I will wait for you here,” India said and turned away.
I stripped quickly. The sooner I got done, the faster I could take care of Valerie and figure out a way to prevent the Triumvirate of Madainsair from killing me. Plus, I couldn’t wait to try out the pool. Its magic lured me, the way a beer would an alcoholic. I took a deep breath and waded in.
As warm as a mother’s womb. As sweet as a lullaby.
I nearly swooned as memories cascaded thr
ough me: Jack welcoming me into his home, Valerie putting her arm around me in front of the cool crowd in high school, my being accepted to Stanford, my first kill as a hunter, the moist steaming flavor of General Tso’s chicken, hot chocolate in winter, and nights of singing at karaoke bars. Each of them was pleasurable and special enough to bring a smile to my lips. Put together, they were like mainlining cocaine. I felt giddy, almost drunk. Then it was just silence—comforting sweetness and the lull of the moon, and I felt at peace, inside and out. Spas would kill for just a drop of this magic.
I could’ve stayed there forever, but the moon began its descent. With a sigh I stood up, automatically checking for any loose hair in the pool. There wasn’t any that I could see. I really doubted I’d lost enough to create a link into my dreams. Finally satisfied, I dragged myself out. My skin glowed. But it wasn’t wet, merely moisturized and oiled. No wonder Nahemah looked so good. Kinda unfair since I was the one who needed the help.
I glanced at the pool. It had turned a dark crimson. All colors mean something, especially in magical settings. Unfortunately, I wasn’t up on the moon’s color associations. It was something Valerie would know. I really should’ve concentrated more on subjects other than hunting and supernatural taxonomy back in school.
India held out a silk robe.
I didn’t take it. “Where are my clothes?”
“In the lyceum, milady.” She bowed. “I apologize for taking them away, but they aren’t suitable for the ceremony about to be performed.” Her dark eyes flicked toward the sky. “Soon it will be too late.”
I didn’t want to wear it, but I didn’t want to walk around nude in front of all these perfect physical specimens more.
I took the robe and draped it over my body. It fell like a wisp of mist around me. I watched India surreptitiously. She looked bored, the way Nathanael had been, and I didn’t trust her. Just the fact that she had volunteered to be a lilith to someone like Nahemah told me everything I needed to know. What kind of person volunteers for slavery?
Instead of taking me back to the lyceum, she led me to a gazebo in the back garden. It looked big to me but probably seemed small to dragonlords. Eight red columns—each made of smooth unbroken cedarwood that had an exceptional fragrance—supported an octagonal emerald roof. Translucent ivy vines crawled up the gazebo and covered the rooftop, dragon motifs wrapping the area where the columns and the roof met. The structure’s Eastern style should’ve created an aesthetic imbalance with the Greco-Roman architecture of the lyceum and the garden. But somehow everything managed to complement everything else.
Nahemah was waiting for me in the center of the gazebo with eight more liliths. India went to her mistress and knelt before her, whispering words I couldn’t hear. Nahemah put a gentle hand on India’s shoulder and smiled at me.
“I hope you enjoyed the bath,” she said, ever the gracious hostess.
“It was lovely.” I stepped inside the circle created by the liliths.
They stood stock-still. Only the soft graze of the wind created any movement—a gentle flaring of their dresses. Even their hair was bound tightly and remained motionless. If I hadn’t known better, I might have mistaken them for statues.
India rose and stood on Nahemah’s right. Nahemah looked at me without any expression. It was a little spooky. I was used to more vivid emotions from her, mostly a faintly mocking amusement.
“Do not, under any circumstances, break the circle,” Nahemah said.
Great. I hoped this wasn’t going to be like Ramiel’s teleportation. Otherwise somebody would have to carry me to Leh on a stretcher.
Nahemah’s hand traveled over India’s belly. India’s stomach muscles began to jump and jerk under the caress, and her breath hitched, turned uneven and labored. Her pupils dilated and she gave every indication of sexual arousal.
