Dream Warrior (5 page)

*   *   *

Azura walked a small circle around Jericho as she smiled proudly.

He closed his eyes, letting the power from the Source fill him again. It had been so long …

Too long.

He was whole once again, and it felt incredible. How he'd missed this. The sights and smells of his powers. The feeling of it coursing through him like living fire. Flexing his hand, he watched as his fingers turned into metallic claws that were razor-sharp. Gone were the words his mother had burned into his flesh, and in their place his tattoos glowed brightly in the dim light.

No one would ever control him again. He was back and he was furious.

Ferocious.

And he was ready for revenge.

Azura cupped his cheek in her hand. “Would you like me to repair your face and eye?”

“No,” he growled. He wanted the reminder of what being weak had cost him. He would never make that mistake again.

“Very well. You are completely restored to your godhood. Do us proud.”

He intended to.

She stepped back so that he could see himself in the mirrored wall. Gone was the grimy human who had to beg for jobs and satisfy himself with scraps of food and ragged clothes, all the while waiting for Zeus's assassins to slaughter him at night.

His hair was no longer black. It was once again the pure white of the gods and it contrasted sharply with his black clothes.

Azura handed him a sword and whip. “Not the ones you were used to, but I think you'll find them to your liking.”

He felt the life blood of the universe in the blade. It hummed like a living being. “What is this?”

“It was forged from the pit of the Source. The very essence of the universe is inside it. That blade will cut through anything. More to the point, it will cut through any
one.
”

He ran his finger along the edge, appreciating the sharpness of it. Hissing, he saw the bead of blood that welled up. Blood that quickly evaporated as his body healed itself.

Like that of a god.

More to the point, the blade absorbed his blood as if it were feeding on it.

“You will have to feed the sword regularly,” Azura explained, dragging one nail down the blade. “The sword requires fresh blood to thrive. With it, you can kill Zeus and absorb his powers.” She paused and met his gaze with one as hungry as his soul that begged for justice. “You could be king of the Olympian gods.… Imagine, Cratus. All of them prostrate to you.”

He curled his lip at her words. “Cratus is dead,” he said in a guttural tone. “My name is Jericho.”

She laughed. “I could think of no better name for you. Cursed and reduced to ashes. And like the mighty Phoenix, you're rising out of the destruction of your past to rain fury down on those who cursed you.”

And he would relish bathing in their blood. The sword in his hand would never go hungry so long as he wielded it.

Azura stepped back. “For now, you will command my army of Skoti. We want to neutralize Olympus and use their gods of sleep to attack the ones we need to control.”

“Consider it done.” He was more than willing to throw Zeus and his crew to the wolves. They deserved it and more for all their cruelty.

A flash of light almost blinded him. Raising one arm to shield his eye, he frowned as the black mist formed into the only being he knew to be more evil than Azura.

Noir.

Tall and dark with black hair and eyes, Noir exuded supreme merciless power. Even Jericho had to admit he was handsome in a way only the gods were. But this was one of the first beings created.

Or more likely in Noir's case, the first being spawned.

Dressed in ornate burgundy armor, Noir wore a dark red cloak that was trimmed in gold. Noir's cold gaze narrowed on Jericho until it went from him to Azura.

“Congratulations, little sister.”

“I told you I could convince him to our side.”

Noir inclined his head to her. “And I've scored another haul from the other side.”

“Really?”

“See for yourself.” He spread his hand to show her in his palm a dark hole where a group of Oneroi were lying in utter misery.

Jericho expected the sight to make him supremely happy. But as he looked at their torture and damaged bodies, an unwanted wave of sympathy went through him.

Why?

He couldn't imagine. The gods knew they'd never had mercy where he was concerned. More times than not, they'd laughed as they killed him. But as he scanned the prisoners, one in particular caught his eye.

Without thinking, he took a step forward.

Azura snapped her attention to him. “You see something you like?”

Jericho turned away from the woman whose face he couldn't even make out. He didn't know why she'd called out to him. It was another stupid move on his part. “No.”

“Then I'll have one of my servants show you to your new accommodations. I think you'll find them much more to your taste than the hovel you were living in.” Azura snapped her fingers and a young girl around the age of sixteen appeared.

At least that's what she looked like at first. But her tanned skin held an iridescent quality to it that reminded him of a dragon's eye.

She was a beautiful demon.

“Follow me, my lord,” she said quietly.

He did and was amazed at the opulence of the golden palace that Azura and Noir called home. Unlike the Olympians, they lived in the darkest pit of the earth's core. Yet it was far from dark or gloomy.

“How long have you been here?”

She glanced back over her shoulder. “I was born here, my lord.”

“And how old are you?”

“A little over two thousand years.” She opened a black door with gold hardware.

Jericho let out an appreciative breath at the sight of his new room. Lush and rich, it beckoned him inside. Stepping past the demon, it was all he could do not to run to the bed and throw himself across it. It'd been so long since he'd slept in a bed that he couldn't even remember the sensation.

The girl closed the door and moved to the fireplace. Throwing a burst of flames out of her hand, she started the fire. Then she turned toward him with a calculating gleam in her dark eyes. “Is there anything else I can do for you, my lord?”

He understood her meaning immediately and had no intention of going there. At least not with a demon and not right now. “No.”

She looked relieved. “If you should change your mind, call my name. Rielle. I will come immediately.”

“Thank you.”

She appeared baffled by his thanks before she vanished.

Alone, Jericho set his sword down on the dresser. He moved around the room, running his hand over the finely polished wood of the bedposts. This reminded him of his bed on Olympus. Of the time before recorded history when he'd been respected and feared.

He was back.

And he was pissed. May the Source take pity on those who'd caused his mood.

Because at the end of the day, he would have none for them.

*   *   *

“What are you doing?” Noir asked gruffly.

Azura paused as she had her servant lay the body of the Olympian bitch on the table before her. “Did you not see the way he looked at her?”

Noir shrugged. “She's attractive. It's to be expected.”

“Yes, but we need to keep our new tool happy. The last thing we want is to have him turn on
us.
Without your Malachai, we will need him when we attack the Source.” She dragged her hand over the woman's unconscious body, appreciating her slight stature. “She is a beauty, isn't she?”

“If you like pale, pasty women. Personally, I prefer ones with more color.”

Azura smiled as he pulled her close and ran his tongue along her throat. Chills erupted over her skin. Even though they called themselves brother and sister, there was nothing that united them in blood except their mutual quest for power and hunger for death. In that, they were family.

Reality was a different story.

“Not now, lover. I want to present her to Cratus.”

“Dump her into his room, then. Or kill her. Either way works for me.”

Azura conjured a containment collar for the woman's powers. The last thing they needed was to have her loose in their home. Not that she could do that much. It was merely the principle of the matter.

As soon as she had the Olympian's powers restrained, she undid the woman's pale hair so that it would cascade over her shoulders. “Yes, very pretty.”

Satisfied, Azura teleported to Cratus's room. He was looking out the window as if trying to find an enemy of some sort. The moment she popped in, he swung about as if ready to fight.

She had to suppress the urge to mock him for something that was actually admirable. He was intelligent to not trust them. Most people, to their extreme detriment, did. The fact that he alone suspected treachery said much for why he was a valuable ally.

“No need to be so jumpy.”

His face was absolute stone. “What are you doing here?”

“I've brought you a gift.”

Jericho scowled at her, wondering what game she played—and he knew she was playing something. Her entire demeanor warned him that she was about to make him even angrier. And he wasn't jumpy. It was just that he knew the treachery that lived in the hearts of all creatures. It was all he expected of them.

No one could be trusted.

Actually, that wasn't true. They could be trusted to screw over the people around them when it served their purposes.
That
he would bank on.

“Gift?”

Her smile was wicked and it was colder than ice. “Bon appetit, precious,” Azura said as she snapped her fingers. The sound was still ringing in his ears when a small form materialized at his feet.

Jericho gasped at the sight of the tiny woman …

One who was completely naked.

CHAPTER 3

Delphine stiffened as she came awake to find herself sprawled face down on a cold marble floor. Naked. Mortified. Terrified.

Rising slightly, she tried to cover herself with her hands, but she lacked enough hands to do it. And if that wasn't bad enough, she was more than aware of the pair of black men's boots she couldn't take her gaze off of. Mostly because she didn't want to see this man, whoever he was, eye to eye after he'd seen her completely naked.

Heat spread over her as she wanted to crawl into a hole, one that hopefully had some clothes in it, and hide.

Cursing so foully he made her jump, the man knelt down. She tensed, expecting the worst and ready to fight him to the death.

But he didn't touch her.

Instead he pricked his finger with a small knife, and the blood from his fingertip wove itself around her to form a warm crimson cloak that covered her completely. She still didn't look at him. She couldn't while she was this embarrassed.

“That was unnecessary,” he growled in that deeply masculine tone she'd recently learned belonged to Cratus. His voice rumbled like angry thunder.

It was Azura who answered him. “She's our offering to you to show you our thanks for your loyalty.”

Completely covered now and finding some semblance of dignity, Delphine rose to find Jericho glaring at Azura, who stood in the corner by the door. The evil goddess looked entirely too pleased with herself.

Smirking at Delphine, Azura gestured toward her. “She's your slave.”

Delphine gaped at her disclosure even though Jericho didn't say anything.

“I've bound her powers and delivered her to you,” Azura continued. “Do with her as you please. But you should know she's one of the Oneroi and friend to the Dolophoni you hate so much … the ones who have tortured you for centuries. I've restored all of her emotions so that you can take pleasure however you see fit…” She started to leave, then paused. “Oh, and you'll probably want to know she's one of Zeus's favorites among the goddesses. I'm told he values her greatly.”

Delphine opened her mouth to deny it, but no words would come out. Azura had her voice blocked.

Oh, to have one second of her powers …

And a minute alone with that deceitful bitch.

Her features smug, Azura vanished in a cloud of blue smoke.

Jericho glanced at his new “present,” intending to return the woman to Azura immediately, but the moment his gaze met hers, he was frozen in place.

Long, wavy blond hair contrasted sharply with the red cloak he'd made for her. But it was her eyes that held him prisoner. A deep hazel green, they showed him a potent fear that she, as a Dream-Hunter, shouldn't have been able to experience. More than that, they showed her spirit and her fight. She was tensed to hold her own even though she had to know she didn't stand a chance against him. The fact that she was willing to fight anyway said a lot about her.

Her form was slight, her face porcelain smooth with high cheekbones and a small widow's peak. She looked so much like a Dream-Hunter he'd once known that he couldn't help asking, “Leta?”

She frowned at him. “My name is Delphine.”

Delphine …

She took a step back and again he was aware of exactly how frail she was in appearance. He could crush her and yet, even given her relationship with Zeus, he couldn't bear the thought of harming her and damned if he knew why. Kindness wasn't something he made a practice of. It was his nature to strike the first blow.

As if sensing his thoughts, she put more room between them. “I won't be your slave.”

Her defiance amused him. “I don't think you have much choice.”

She lifted her chin defiantly. “I will fight you until one of us is dead.”

He was consumed by an overwhelming urge to soothe her. It was something he hadn't felt since he'd comforted his sister when they were younger—and he'd never felt that for another person.

Until now.

It made no sense that he'd want to reassure Zeus's pet after what that bastard had done to him, and yet he couldn't stand the thought of her being afraid of him. “I won't hurt you.”