Captive Moon (35 page)

The snow was nearly waist high as Antoine pushed his way through to the cliff face, followed quickly by Ahmad, who hadn’t even asked why they were hurrying.

In the cave, Giselle’s voice rang out from the far corner. He couldn’t quite catch her scent, but her voice was cold and haughty. “Your kind has never bested the Sazi or the Hayalet people, spider—at least not in fair combat. You skulk in the corners, hiding in the shadows to ambush your prey. If you had any true courage, you would unchain me and face me one on one. But then, I suppose we already know that you’re a coward. Requiring silver shackles on a woman of my age speaks quite clearly of your abilities.”

The woman turned with fury etched on her face. “Silence, old cat! I could hunt you and eat you alive before you could make a single move to defend yourself.”

Giselle laughed lightly, and it sounded like crystal bells tinkling. The sound made the tiny, dark-haired woman clench her fists and jaw simultaneously. “I highly doubt that. But I’m not concerned, since I’ll be the one living to tell the tale of your failure in battle.”

Antoine was startled, because the thick, sarcastic tones didn’t sound like Giselle at all. But after a moment, he realized what she was doing. She was being faithful to her oath. She would die to protect the others, and was ensuring that she would be the first one chosen to be drained. Regardless of their disagreements, she was his Grand-mère. She was Giselle, leader of the lynxes, and she deserved a better fate than that. He raised his long legs high out of the snow and bounded across the landscape fast enough to leave Ahmad struggling to catch up.

He slowed as he neared the mountainside, and gathered as much moonlight as he could into his eyes, searching the darkness for a portion of the cliff that had matched the vision.

“Very well done.” A voice from the darkness seemed somewhat familiar, but he couldn’t quite place where he’d heard it. It was a warm rolling hiss with ominous edges, and he saw Ahmad stiffen beside him.

A figure glided out from the shadows with remarkable grace and stopped just out of view of even Antoine’s sensitive eyes. “Of course,” he said, “I wouldn’t have expected any less. Normally, I would have simply killed you both before you reached this far, but I find myself in a bit of a quandary. I’m in need of your help, so killing you would be counterproductive.”

“Ssshow yourself!” Ahmad’s voice was a vicious hiss that was filled with warning. He held the sword and was gripping it with white knuckles while his power flared enough to press against Antoine uncomfortably. Antoine brought his own power to bear in response to the threat.

The laugh was both light and low. It was a pleased sound, like a teacher whose student had done well.

“It sounds like I don’t need to. But stay your blade unless you do wish to die here in the snow. You know I’ll win.”

Ahmad’s eyes narrowed. The sword stayed where it was. “That was long ago, in another life. I don’t share your … confidence.”

The figure stepped out from the trees into the brightly fit field of undisturbed white. Antoine gasped when he saw who it was and started to walk forward, but Ahmad slammed an arm against his chest and stepped slightly in front of him with the blade out. Antoine felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he asked, “Larry?”

“No, Antoine,” Ahmad said. “I should have seen it earlier, but I was blinded by time and ego. The man standing before you is named Nasil—Ea-Nasil, the Tormentor of Akkade. We’ve found our true traitor.”

CHAPTER Eighteen

Larry, now Nasil, raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips in satisfaction. His entire bearing was different from the man Antoine had come to know over more than a dozen years, and his scent was even different. Gone was the warm, caring, slightly overweight man who smelled of fresh pecans and helped feed his cats. The man before them was slender and confident, self-assured. His scent was the thick, bitter scent of a viper, and his body was loose and ready, as though he expected to fight, and expected to win.

“I’m flattered that you remember my name and title. It’s been a very long time, Prince Rimush. Ahmad suits you better.”

Ahmad didn’t move, but the arm on Antoine’s chest was trembling just a little. From his scent, it was in anger rather than fear. Disdain and hate in his scent were strong enough to choke on as he spit the words across the snow. “How could I forget you when I’m reminded by the scars I see in the mirror every morning?”

Nasil shrugged and took a step closer. Even burdened by the weight of snow, he seemed to move effortlessly. Ahmad held his ground and raised the blade to a slightly different angle. “They made you strong. You survived where your brothers did not.”

Ahmad snorted. “I might have known that it would be someone like you who would steal my guards away with threats and empty promises. You’ve come into your own quite well to have a were-spider as a lackey. Or are you the lackey of the spider?”

Nasil burst out laughing, and it was so similar to Larry’s laugh that it made Antoine wince. “Hardly, Ahmad. While I appreciate your so high opinion of me, I am as I always was—loyal in service to my lord.”

Ahmad faltered, and the blade dropped from his suddenly limp hand. He clutched at Antoine’s jacket to keep from falling.

“What am I missing here, Ahmad? Larry? What’s happening?” Antoine held his blade a bit higher and put his other arm under Ahmad’s for support.

“He’s dead!” Ahmad whispered the words so passionately that they should be true just by the saying of them. His frantic eyes stared at Nasil, and his tongue flicked out over and over. He picked up the sword from the hole in the snow, being careful to watch the other man’s every movement.

Nasil’s tone was chiding after he tsked and shook his head. “Ahmad… surely you didn’t believe that two lesser guards of the youngest prince could somehow manage to kill him? Sargon of Akkade is the most powerful king the world has ever known. But if it helps any, your father was impressed by your cleverness in planning the attempt on his life. He ceded you the throne as a prize, and we sought other adventures.”

“Putain!” hissed Antoine in anger and frustration, startling them both. He didn’t care who he needed to fight. Tahira was in danger, as were the others, and the conversation was going nowhere useful. “You’re welcome to reminisce and trade insults until you’re both frozen solid, but I will be finding a way into the cave to save my people. If this is an attempt to stall us from facing the spider, then attack and be done with it, Larry. Only death will stop me from saving Tahira, Giselle, and the others.”

He turned to walk toward the cliff, the vision from the past repeating in the present. He clutched the sword in tight fingers, and made sure of his balance as he stepped, in case he was attacked. What he didn’t expect was that Larry, or Nasil, would simply move in front of him so quickly that he couldn’t draw a full breath.

“The spider is now the least of our worries, Antoine,” Ahmad said quietly, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. “I don’t normally urge caution in battle, as you well know. But while most asps are slow moving, Nasil has the blood of a black mamba flowing through his veins as well. It’s only from constant attacks that I was able to increase my speed enough to keep ahead of his teeth. You would be dead before you hit the ground if he wanted you that way. He was my father’s primary enforcer and that he’s still living is a testament to his skill.”

Nasil acknowledged it with a graceful shrug. “Quite true. But as I said, killing you would be counterproductive to my goal.”

“You killed the man in the jail.” Antoine’s voice was filled with fury. “So apparently, life means little to you. I’ll wager that you don’t have an aunt in Stuttgart, either. You’ve lied to me, hidden your abilities, and probably spied on my council activities for your lord.” His eyes narrowed, and it was only through sheer force of will that he didn’t pounce and cut off the head of the man who betrayed him, and Tahira, and mostly… “I just can’t understand how you could lie to Bruce. He’s never done a thing to deserve this. He’s loved you every day of the past twelve years.”

Ahmad’s voice was cold with hatred and some other emotion that might have been pain. “He has no morals, Antoine, no conscience, no heart with which to grasp another’s suffering.”

Nasil sighed and crossed his arms over his chest, looking once again like the Larry Antoine thought he knew so well. “And that is where I made my mistake. Ahmad knows that I was never a lover of men. Finely curved women were my taste for centuries. But I played the part of a homosexual when my lord Sargon commanded it, and infiltrated your troupe by attaching myself to the one person who desperately craved attention. Twelve years, when you’ve lived for countless centuries, is a small price to rule the world. No, I have no aunt in Stuttgart. She was sacrificed to the greater cause several months ago.” He let out a small, pained laugh that felt wet and heavy. “But I didn’t expect to enjoy myself. I didn’t plan to admire the way you treat your people. It actually bothered me to feed the information to Giselle that would force her to challenge you.” His voice lowered to a soft warmth. “Most of all, I didn’t expect to fall in love. And now, because of that, I need your help.”

Antoine and Ahmad both let out bitter laughs, nearly simultaneously. Antoine pointed his sword directly at Nasil’s neck. “Why would I help you after you’ve just admitted that our entire relationship has been a lie?” Antoine couldn’t afford to continue this. The ritual was starting in earnest, and he could see a light glow form over Tahira’s body as the chanting grew in force and volume.

Nasil’s scent was a blend of determination and anger. “You’ll help me because I can get you inside tile cave unseen. I can give you the positions of all of the guards and their weak points. Sargon took Bruce and plans to torture and eat him—most likely at the insistence of Dr. Rachel Portes, who, as you saw in your vision, is indeed a were-spider. We’ve come to loathe each over the years and she wants to hurt me with Bruce’s death. As loyal a servant as I’ve been to Lord Sargon for these many years, I’m actually willing to go against him to save a mere human companion. You and the young prince might actually be a match for him—at least long enough to weaken him. But most of all, you’ll help me because if he manages to use Tahira’s abilities, he will be unstoppable. The Sazi council, even the great Charles Wingate, would be nothing more than cannon fodder.”

Antoine couldn’t help but remember the first vision in the tunnel. “And the world would burn to ash.”

He nearly whispered the words, but Nasil nodded.

“Indeed. I’ll even sweeten the deal. I’ll slay the spider and free the others while you distract Sargon. Perhaps with the help of the cats, Sargon might be brought down at last.”

“And what do you get out of it?”

Nasil smiled, and his scent was filled with a dozen different emotions that all fought for dominance. “I’ll avoid getting tortured for helping you. I’ll get my freedom from an eternity of slavery—and I’ll get Bruce back. I don’t need anything else.”

Antoine let out a snort of derision. “Do you really believe that Bruce would have anything to do with you after this? If anyone dies here today, he’ll hold you responsible. Even if we survive, he’ll never forgive you.”

“If he doesn’t remember, he will,” Ahmad said thoughtfully. As Nasil once again gave a pleased expression to the cobra, Ahmad continued. “Nasil is one of the very few who can make a person black out and not remember short periods of time. Very likely, Bruce has been Nasil’s alibi for any number of events that might otherwise have raised suspicion.”

Nasil nodded and smelled pleased. “Just as the police didn’t remember me walking in and killing their prisoner while Bruce was asleep in the car. I returned and woke him up after digging out the SUV. He didn’t remember falling asleep, or me leaving.” He raised his arm to his face and checked his watch. “But we’re nearly out of time. If you both want to do this, it needs to be now. If you don’t, I can’t afford for you to interfere, so I’ll have to eliminate you.”

Antoine pushed his way into the vision again, while Ahmad ground his teeth, smelling of hate so strong it could kill on contact. But mingled in the scent were anger, a dark glee, and indecision.

Once more, he tried to manipulate the vision, moving backward through the shadows until he could see the cliff face once more. With sudden intensity, he saw more than he intended—Nasil leading them around the edge of a boulder and pulling away brush from the rock to reveal a small opening where the stream he and Tahira had fought near originated. “I don’t trust you, but I do trust my visions. I’ll know immediately if you’re leading us wrong, and then we’ll see if you’re able to eliminate me.”

“As much as I would relish the challenge, I might actually regret killing you. So let’s not go there.” He turned his back on them and walked away, expecting that they would follow.

Antoine turned to Ahmad. “Tell me everything you know about your father and how he fights. Any weaknesses that he might have would be especially useful right now.”

Ahmad let out a harsh, angry breath. “I thought I knew the one he had. I spent nearly two millennia planning his murder, to avenge the thousands he slaughtered. I believed I’d succeeded a few hundred years before you were born.” He stared at Antoine’s suddenly shocked expression. “Yes, you heard right. I’ve been alive for longer than most of the council believes, save Charles. And yes, we do need to talk or we’ll both die a very slow and painful death.”

Tahira was starting to feel strange. The more the woman read the words from the moldy book she was holding, the more light-headed she was getting. She’d finally found Rabi, so that was something. But she’d also just argued with the one man who might help them, and she couldn’t be sure that he would come.

I shouldn’t need saving. There must be a way out of this.

She looked around the room carefully. The manacles that held her had already burned the first few layers of her skin, providing some protection against further damage. But the pain was incredible, and it made her wonder again about Antoine. He’d fought so hard against the chains, using his power to change her. It must have weakened him a lot to do that. She vaguely remembered changing back to human form after the men took her from the house. Did that mean Antoine was already dead? Just the thought of it made her sick to her stomach and a pain filled her chest. Ahmad had been right. She’d made her choice, even though it didn’t matter anymore.