Intensity Read online

  And to think, his mom had once blistered his butt for painting on the walls at home. She'd have a fit if she ever saw this.

  "Well ain't this the thing ..."

  Now the question was how had he gotten here?

  More importantly, how did he go about getting out? Last thing he wanted was to be stuck in this book forever, like someone else he knew.

  His stomach drew up tight at the thought. Yeah, that really was the last thing he needed. To be stuck in here a few thousand centuries like her.

  "Nashira!"

  She didn't answer. Not that he really expected it. Even when she'd been trapped in the book like this, she'd been less than forthcoming with information. And not always swift to answer his summons.

  But at least he knew his blood was still relatively powerful here and that it could continue to perform spells and sigils. That at least explained why he was able to channel the things he'd been channeling, and have some of these less than fun delusions. The book allowed him to see his past and a part of the future. It was a guidebook of sorts. So this was all beginning to make a little bit of sense to him now.

  Yeah, it was a guidebook that had been passed down through generations. From one Malachai to another ...

  "Dad," that one word left his lips before he could stop it.

  What are you doing, Nick! Your father hated you. Have you lost your mind?

  Maybe, but his dad had also given his life for them. So maybe, just maybe, he wasn't a total lunatic for thinking his dad might help him now.

  Maybe ...

  After all, his dad had loved his mother. Maybe that love would overcome Adarian's innate hatred of him. Miracles were possible.

  Nick stood in indecision for several minutes before he decided to take a chance he prayed didn't come back and bite him on the butt. Like they normally did.

  'Cause out of all the idiotic ideas he'd had over the years, this was the granddaddy boss leader.

  Power up, bruh.

  Closing his eyes, he summoned what little was left of his strength.

  "What have you done now?"

  Yeah, he'd know that deep, guttural hate-filled tone anywhere.

  "Good to see you, too, Dad."

  Adarian materialized so that he could stand there with malevolent red eyes that seared him to the core of his rotten soul. "Didn't I tell you to watch your mother?"

  "You did, and I'm trying."

  "Then why are you trapped here where you can't help her, huh?"

  "I wish I knew."

  Hissing, Adarian took a step forward, then froze. He cocked his head as if he heard something strange. "You have no idea what you're doing, do you?"

  That was one massive understatement of fact. Of course he didn't. Never had. And at this point, he'd wager that he never would. Least the odds were looking that way.

  "Was hoping you'd have some idea on that. I'm thinking we're in the Malachai's grimoire. Am I right?"

  With a dark scowl, Adarian held his hand up to glare at it as if it were some foreign object. "How is this even possible?"

  "Again, clueless. Was hoping you could enlighten me as to what would suck me in here."

  Adarian grabbed him by his arm and yanked him up against his chest. Then flew with him up toward the dark sky.

  Nick started to protest, but he was too weak to break his father's hold. Something that really concerned him. "Hey!"

  "Stop struggling!"

  Normally, he'd never obey anyone who held him like this, yet there was a note in his father's voice that said he needed to listen. And when they reached the outer edge of the paper, Nick saw why.

  There was a thin membrane that allowed him to see through the worlds in a way he'd have never thought possible.

  Similar to Takeshi's map, this was like a starchart to the multiverse.

  Nick gaped as he tried to make sense of it all. "What is this?"

  "Everything." His father's wings flapped loudly in his ears, rushing a cold wind around them.

  "I don't understand."

  "The grimoire is the lifeblood of our species, boy. It's all and nothing. What is and was and could be. The darkest of magick, it was forged from the living skin cells of Cam by Lilith during the Primus Bellum and given to Monakribos so that he could defeat the Kalosum."

  Nick groaned in frustration as he tried to follow that. But it still didn't make sense. "You've still lost me on this one, old man."

  Hissing, he spoke to Nick through gritted fangs. "The grimoire is a living book, you imbecile. Made from the flesh of Lilith's sister. She hated her siblings for what they'd done to her and her children. For the curse they placed on her that turned her children in to monsters, so our book was her revenge on them. Since her children couldn't attack the Source and lacked the ability to kill them, she was hoping the first Malachai would use her knowledge and its powers against her siblings to destroy them for her."

  "Why didn't he?"

  "He never had the chance." Adarian pulled Nick to a page where a pair of lips were imprinted on the ancient vellum. "Before Monakribos could use it against them, Cam had Rubati place a note to her husband in the book and seal her letter with a bit of her blood that binds her to it. It's part of her, too. After that, he couldn't bring himself to destroy this bit of her being. Like you, it now contains a balance between them and so it has become our guide. A conscience of sorts for our species that confuses more than it helps. It's Rubati's pure soul that keeps us from using the book's knowledge to destroy the world. It's also why we have to keep it near us. Why we can't be without the cursed thing."

  "Is that why you put Nashira in it?"

  He nodded. "I was hoping her hatred of me would override Rubati's spell and allow me to either destroy the book or use it as it was intended. Instead, she only vexed me more." He shoved at Nick. "Like you!" Adarian sneered the word, yet this time Nick felt the love that undercut his father's derision.

  "So how do I save Mom? Please, you have to help me figure out a way to do it."

  Sadness darkened Adarian's eyes, turning them orange. "Have you seen that night?"

  Nick shook his head. "I can't."

  "It's not what you think. And it's not what you know."

  He scowled at his father's cryptic words. "For the love of God, can you not tell me a straight answer? What is that supposed to mean?"

  Adarian roared in anger. His breathing labored, he grabbed Nick's shoulders and forced him to meet his gaze. "If you want to fix this, forget what you think you know about your life and the future, moron. Find Cyprian before he finds you, and stop him. It's that simple!"

  "How?"

  "The same way your mother saved you, Nick. No child is born rotten. No matter what they say. We all come into this world the same. Cold and hungry, seeking warmth and comfort. Every last one of us. We're snatched out into this madness, dazed and confused and all we want is for someone to hold us and tell us that it's going to be okay. A steady hand to keep us from falling. You were lucky that you found one that held you instead of slapping you at every turn."

  Nick scowled at his father as he realized for the first time the difference between them. While his mother had wrapped him up in her love and held him close to protect him from the world, his father had been shunned and left to fend for himself. With no mother to care what happened to him. Nobody had ever protected Adarian.

  Not once.

  Rather they'd all taken turns abusing and using him until he'd become the very monster he'd been foretold by destiny.

  "I'm sorry."

  He growled at Nick. "I don't want your pity, boy."

  "That's not what I'm giving you, old man." Nick swallowed hard as the full tragedy of his father's life hit him square in the chest. Adarian couldn't even recognize what it was he was offering him. He had absolutely no concept of it. Couldn't even recognize what was right in front of his face.

  And that burned Nick most.

  "In spite of it all ... in spite of you, you worthless piece of dung, I do love you, Dad. I just wanted you to know it. You weren't much. But you were my father. The only one I'll ever have." And before he could stop himself, he hugged him.

  At first, he thought Adarian was going to throw him against something. But instead, he fisted his hand in Nick's hair and held him tight to his chest. "You ever tell anyone about this and I'll rip out your throat."

  Nick laughed at a very typical Adarian reaction. "Don't worry. No one would believe it, anyway."

  Not even Nick really believed it. Maybe all of this was some hallucination. Maybe he was dead already. That would explain it.

  But even so, he savored this one rare instance of being held by the man who'd fathered him. Even if he wasn't really a man.

  You can't choose your father. You can only choose how you deal with him.

  Nick was at peace with Adarian for the first time in his life. He finally understood his mother's way of thinking and how it was that she managed to live the way she did. No wonder her soul was so beautiful.

  If only his was.

  But then that, too, was a choice.

  Try as he might, he still wasn't a creature of forgiveness. He had a monster to stop. One who was determined to ruin him.

  One who was out there, right now. Plotting against him and his friends and family.

  "How do I get out of this book?"

  "How did you get into it?"

  Nick snorted. "Like I know? It's why I asked you here. I was hoping for some insight."

  "Then you'd best be figuring it out."

  "Well you're just all kinds of unhelpful, aren't you?" Nick rolled his eyes as he did his best to think of something, anything.

  Sadly, nothing came to mind. How could this be?

  He needed real help and he had no idea where his help was. Or how to find it. He was about as lost as he'd ever been in his life.

  "Where is Nick?" Caleb turned toward Kody.

  "I don't know. He was supposed to be at the station with his mother. She said he left to go do homework and no one's seen him since."

  "I've got a bad feeling about this." Aeron glanced up at the darkening sky over their heads. While storm clouds in New Orleans were nothing new, there was something ominous with these. Low hanging and jet black, they seemed a bit denser and more threatening than normal.

  Not quite a natural phenomenon.

  Kody nodded. "I hear you. Especially since I know Nick didn't have homework and he doesn't normally do any without a great deal of protesting."

  "And whining," Caleb added. "Let's not forget the painful whining."

  Kody scowled as a deep rumble sounded. "What exactly does a Sephirii army look like when it attacks?"

  A tic started in Caleb's handsome cheek. "Honestly? A lot like that." He jerked his chin toward the storm clouds as he subconsciously rubbed his stomach where he'd been wounded earlier. "Aeron?"

  "I see it, demon. Me hackles are up. Vawn!" he shouted. "Kaziel!"

  Instantly, his companions materialized by his side, and took up defensive positions as they knew that whenever he called for them in such a manner it usually meant that danger was approaching. Fast. And their appearance like that probably wasn't the best thing for an afternoon in a crowded tourist town. But they were lucky enough that no one was paying attention to them. Rather they were all focused on the crackling electricity in the air, and seeking shelter from a storm that sounded deadly.

  Threatening.

  In human form, Kaziel dwarfed Kody. His long, pale blond hair framed a beautiful face that was marked with Celtic symbols for protection. Trained by the lady Shadow herself, the goddess Scathach, he was the fiercest of the battle cwns ever unleashed in war. And his pale green eyes showed the depth of his skills, and the tragedy that had been his harsh, tragic life.

  As part of the infamous Arswyd Gan Drindod-- the Terror by a Trinity--that consisted of him, Aeron and Vawn, Kaziel was legendary in Celtic lore.

  Likewise, Vawn was ever as ready and eager to battle. But then the Rhyvawn Ddu--dark passionate one--was known for his love of all things deadly. Hence his current curse that had resulted in him being cast into the body of a woman. Because of his unrequited love for her, the sorceress had killed herself, and with her dying breath, had made it so that Vawn would be forced to spend eternity in her body, lamenting the fact that he'd never once paid attention to her. Now, he was forced to walk the earth as a female wraith who warned those about to die of their coming doom.

  Tall and thin, with stringy red hair and dark eyes and lips, he was pretty enough as a woman--which irritated him to no end as men constantly came on to him, and he had no interest whatsoever in male attention.

  And while Kaziel had an open sun tattooed on his forehead that aligned him to the light Celtic powers, Vawn held the tattoo of a black elongated star between his eyes that marked him firmly as belonging to the darker fey side. Indeed, the sorcerer preferred to play with the deadliest of magick, and had been known in his day to delve into things best left undisturbed. Things such as necromancy and death magick.

  Aeron swore loyalty to both sides, and neither. It was what had made the three of them virtually invincible in their time. An unstoppable army of three no one had wanted to face in war.

  Kody was glad to have them on her team. Even though they were weakened by curses and binding spells. They were still formidable.

  And terrifying.

  That lethal combination and their ability to remain calm and amused no matter the threat reminded her of her brothers. It also made her homesick at times.

  "So ..." Kaziel passed an irritated smirk toward Caleb. "Who's taking odds on Shadow not finding them swords anytime soon?"

  Caleb scoffed. "Oh I'm taking odds on them being found. In my back or gullet, again. Possibly my head. Or another extremely uncomfortable body part. At the worst possible time."

  Aeron snorted. "Have to say I'm in agreement with that, knowing our luck as I do."

  "Aye, to that." Vawn was braiding his hair so as to keep it from his eyes. Or her eyes, rather. It was ever confusing as to how to refer to him as Kody was never quite sure, given his situation. Luckily, he was forgiving when it came to his gender, and only took offense whenever someone intended to offend him about it.

  And for the first time, Kody considered how long the three of them had known each other and battled together. Nigh on an eternity. Brothers-in-arms. They would die before they failed each other. Die rather than betray. And bleed for each other without hesitation or faltering.

  Everyone should have a friend like that.

  It was a sad testament to the world that there were so few who did. Especially given the fact that they'd come together through adversity and from vastly different backgrounds. Indeed, Vawn, Aeron and Kaziel should be mortal enemies. Instead, they were bonded tighter than most families.

  Vawn paused to scowl at her. "You all right, there, lass?"

  Kody smiled. "Fine. At least as much as I can be given the unrivaled beauty of this particular day." Her tone dripped with her intended sarcasm.

  "Truth to that. Me gaping wound be throbbing already. Can't wait for the next one to joining it."

  Kaziel snorted as he moved to stand nearer to Vawn. "No worries, mate. I'll be tearing the throat of the next one what comes at you."

  Caleb's gaze darkened. "We need to find our Malachai. I'm thinking this portends something foul."

  Aeron cast a droll stare toward Caleb. "What are you? Mad, demon? I'm thinking this portends something ate our Malachai. Why else would he be missing?"

  Kaziel nodded. "Agreed. He be in the belly of some beast most foul."

  As much as Kody hated to admit it, they might be right. Because deep inside, she couldn't feel Nick, either. "Caleb? Can you contact him?"

  The expression on his face confirmed her bitterest fears. "He's not on this plane, is he?"

  Caleb swallowed hard. "No. May the gods help us. I think Noir has him."

  And if he did ...

  This world was doomed.

  CHAPTER 9

  Closing his eyes, Nick felt himself falling through the aether. He was so lost to the grimoire now. To the power of it, and to his past and future.

  All at once in his mind, he saw the lives of every Malachai. It filled him with so much anger and hatred that it was explosive. And at the same time, it saddened him that this was what his lineage had been left with.

  Why?

  Because of a war they hadn't started? Because two people had loved each other and it had angered others? How could so much tragedy come from something so simple and basic? Something so innocent and good? It staggered his mind.

  Monakribos's father, Kissare, had been a Sephiroth of unquestionable loyalty and supreme power. The kyri of the Mimoroux--their top leader before Myone. He, alone, had given a heart to the darkest of all the gods, and taught her to love and care for something other than herself.

  Just as Myone had done for Xev. No wonder the two of them had been so scared and paranoid. They had already seen how this played out. If the Source powers had been so cruel to their own over it, then they had held no hope for themselves.

  Nick couldn't blame his great-grandparents at all.

  Before time began, Kissare had been so pure of heart that he'd been chosen by the sword-spirit Takara as the first of the Sephirii to wield her in battle.

  And, after Kissare's unjust death the gods had demanded because he'd dared to fall in love with the goddess Braith, who had outed their relationship when she'd birthed their son Monakribos, Takara had refused to serve another warrior. The sword had taken a stand for the couple and the injustice done to them.

  For centuries the sword had lain dormant, willfully silent, refusing all the Sephirii who attempted to activate and use her.

  Until Jared.

  Nick's maternal grandfather. How ironic, really. It made him wonder if Takara had known that Jared would be the last Sephiroth whose life would be bound to the final Malachai. That the sword had chosen her war partner intentionally with full knowledge that Jared would be used in the future for such a nefarious scheme by the very gods who'd first cursed Nick's lineage.

  As it begins, so it ends.

  Everything seemed to move in such cycles.

  In his mind, Nick heard Jared's anguished shout in the past as Takara had been ripped from his hand and he'd been punished for trying to spare Jaden from his siblings. Heard Takara's own cries of misery when she'd been forcibly pried from his grasp. Whenever a Sephiroth bonded with his or her sword, their partnership was indivisible and eternal. To lose one was like having a limb ripped from the body.

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