Khirro’s gut churned. She died in his arms, no doubt about that, but magic lurked in Lakesh, and especially in the Necromancer’s underground keep. Maybe something in the cursed land brought her back, or someone. The thought sickened him.
We left her behind.
They’d collected wood and built a pyre, lit the flames and released her soul to the Gods. If this was really Elyea, then some powerful magic was at work, and Khirro only knew one way to find out if this was her or a trick.
He slid forward a step, but Athryn grabbed his arm, stopping him.
“Who are you?” Athryn asked in a commanding tone.
A moment of silence passed as they both held their breath, not sure if they should hope for the worst or the best; Khirro didn’t even know which was which. Finally, the silhouette spoke again.
“It is I, Elyea.”
***
“Who are you?”
This one is called Athryn. The woman in black didn’t ask me to kill him, but he’s been with the man called Khirro in many of my visions, and he’s with him now. That’s enough to doom him. But do I surprise them now and take their lives with my sword? I’d enjoy watching their blood drain from them like I did so many other men in this place a day ago. No. That’s good enough for others, perhaps good enough for the magician, but I want to feel the man’s life leave him, not merely watch it.
“It is I, Elyea,” I say and watch them both go tense. They have trouble believing I’m their lost little whore, and they are right to. It’s not really who I am, but who I’ll pretend to be to exact my revenge.
The man called Khirro looks like he might drop his sword at my words, then run behind me and sniff my ass like a homeless dog. The blade droops in his bandaged hands. Concern springs to my chest at the sight of the cloth wrapping both of his palms, catching me off guard. I push it away. Why should I be concerned for the man I’m about to kill? Injured hands will soon be the least of his concerns.
“How do you come to be here, Elyea?” the magician asks.
I move toward them, the floor tacky beneath my feet, making me smile. I let them think the smile is for them, not for the memory and thrill of the blood I’ve spilled.
“It doesn’t matter how, what matters is I’m here.”
Khirro moves a step toward me, breaking away from Athryn’s protesting grip. Fifteen feet separate us and I see his features despite the darkened room. The curve of his cheek, the shape of his nose, everything is familiar about him, not just from my dreams and visions. My heart begins to ache and I swallow hard, attempting to quash the unwanted reaction.
This man raped me, killed my friends. Killed me.
“Elyea, I’m sorry,” he says, startling me. Can he hear my thoughts? “If I thought there were any chance you lived, we never would have left.”
He can’t. He’s trying to save himself, begging like they all do. It won’t help him, though I wouldn’t mind hearing him beg and plead. Yes, begging would be good.
“You couldn’t know,” I say keeping my voice sweet and gentle. It’s difficult.
We close the distance between us, coming close enough either of us could reach out and touch the other. Neither of us do, not yet. I see the desire on his face, the yearning gleam in his eyes, but he’s careful, too. A man as evil as he didn’t live this long being reckless. I’ll have to take the lead, so I grit my teeth to bite back my disgust and reach out with my left hand, stroke his cheek with my fingers. A feeling runs down my arm leaving goose flesh in its wake. He flinches at my touch.
“Khirro,” the magician says and I cast a look at him over Khirro’s shoulder, but not one carrying a threat; I can’t warn him away, not when I’m so close. It doesn’t matter, though, the man called Khirro doesn’t take his eyes from mine.
“I’ve missed you,” I say looking into his eyes. They gleam and glisten in the red glow of his sword, flickering as though alight with fire.
“And I’ve missed you.” He moves closer until a few inches separate our faces. “I dream of you every night.”
“And I of you.”
I feel his breath on my face and suppress a shudder, but I can’t do anything about the tingling that springs to life at the bottom of my abdomen. I attempt to ignore it, but it becomes more insistent when his lips brush mine. He kisses me gently. I kiss him back, then our lips press together more firmly. My breath shortens, my body burns. This doesn’t feel like the other men whose souls I ripped out of their bodies. I close my eyes and see him doing things I haven’t seen him doing in my dreams: stroking my bare thigh, gently biting my neck, cupping my breast. I imagine him pressing his body into mine and my eyes snap open.
He killed me.
Latent anger blossoms in my chest, fills my lungs. He tries to end the kiss and pull away, but I hold him close, making him believe I desire him.
Do I?
Making him believe I want him.
Do I?
Not letting him know I mean to kill him.
Do I?
I do.
With our lips joined almost as one mouth, I inhale deeply, exhilaration filling me as I feel the first piece of his soul find its way into me.
***
“I dream of you every night,” Khirro said. He didn’t doubt that Elyea stood before him. Her hair was different, chopped short, but the rest was her.
“And I of you.”
He took a shuddering breath and leaned closer. Night after night he wished to have her back, to have the opportunity to tell her how he felt, show her in a way he never did before. He told her of his love only in the moment of her death, and he’d carried the fact with him like a rock in his heart ever since.
I won’t miss the opportunity again.
Their lips touched, lightly at first, but passion overwhelmed him. He knew this was neither the time nor place, but he couldn’t help himself. He kissed her deeply, felt her body against his. Love swelled through him, forcing weariness out of his limbs and pain from his hands. He’d have kissed her forever, dying happily of old age in her embrace, but the words he heard ended his thoughts.
He killed me.
He heard them spoken by her voice as though she’d whispered them directly into his ear, but he knew the words didn’t come from her lips because his lips sealed them closed. Khirro tried to pull away and end the kiss but she held him close, eager for more. He indulged her, pushing aside the voice raising a warning in his head. Her lips felt so good on his, until something tore loose inside him.
His body stiffened. Pain in his chest, a feeling like part of his lung separated, leaving behind a burning trail up his throat and out through his mouth. He dropped the Mourning Sword and pressed his hands against Elyea’s shoulders to push her away, the pain in his fingers excruciating, but she wouldn’t release him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Athryn beside them, trying to separate them, but Elyea sent him stumbling away with a stiff shove.
The pain grew. He felt his rib cage, his entire torso, compressed, squeezing his innards, leaving them no choice but to escape through his mouth. He punched at Elyea, but she pinned his arms at his side.
Why is she doing this?
Athryn came at her again. This time, she connected a foot to his midsection; Khirro heard his ribs crack and he went down in a heap. Khirro continued to struggle but strength drained from his limbs. He twitched. Sweat formed on his brow, running down his cheeks. The room grew hot.
Khirro didn’t see the flames engulf his head, but he felt them, hot to the touch. They didn’t burn him, they energized him. The same wasn’t true for Elyea. She released him and stumbled back, her face twisted with rage.
***
His life fills me.
He struggles but he’s no match for me. Neither is the magician. I’m disappointed it’s so easy, I expected more of a fight from a man with such evil flowing through his veins. As his soul enters me, seeping into every crevasse of my body, I see all the things he did to me all over again: the torture, the pain, the anguish. No fantasy of bare flesh and ecstasy this time, that will come when my work’s done and the woman in black comes to reward me.