Intensity Read online

  Takeshi said that as if Nick should know exactly who and what he was talking about, but again he had no clue. Maybe he should have been playing closer attention to all those Grim lessons, after all, and not ignoring the ancient being who hated him. There had been a reason why his father had sent Grim to tutor him--other than as another form of creative abuse. "Who?"

  "The god of Time who was in charge of us back in the day."

  Ah ... but it still told Nick nothing as he'd never heard the name before. It wasn't exactly something they referenced in his manga or fighting games. And God forbid they ever covered something useful in school. "From the bitterness in that tone, I take it that he screwed you over somehow."

  "No. His sister, Tiva did. She's the Untime to his Time. And unlike her brother, she can't stand to see anyone happy."

  "As a chaos goddess, she's the one who cursed me into a book." Nashira's eyes glistened from unshed tears. "It was her way of keeping me away from my husband. For no reason other than she was a jealous harpy."

  Man, that sucked. Nick couldn't imagine anything worse than to be banned from Kody.

  Well, maybe being locked in Caleb's laundry room with three week old dirty football jockstraps.

  In August.

  Yeah, his eyes watered just thinking about it. However, he'd veered off topic again.

  Not that it mattered as Takeshi was quick to bring them back to it. "You, as a Malachai, never released Nashira before this. In any known timeline or universe. Yet now she's here." He sighed. "I knew when she showed up out of the blue that you'd changed something about the past, probably major, but didn't really want to investigate. I was too grateful to have her back, whatever the cause. Now that you're here, I have no choice, but to face the fact that you've veered off the highway. So back to what I said ... what have you done, boy?"

  Nick shrugged with a nonchalance he didn't feel. "Stopped a couple of apocalypses. Fought a butt-load of demons. And managed to stay alive, much to my daily and eternal surprise."

  Takeshi laughed.

  And when he did so, Nick scowled as his powers kicked in with some unexpected disclosures. "Itzal Tsuneo." The name was out before Nick could control his involuntary verbal diarrhea.

  It had a most chilling effect on his host. Takeshi manifested a dagger and had it to his throat so fast that Nick had barely blinked. "I will not be enslaved to you, Malachai!" He growled those words between clenched teeth.

  His eyes turned an unholy red.

  Nick held his hands up in surrender. "Wasn't trying to. Seriously." He needed to be more careful in the future. Of all beings, he knew the difference between common names and those used to summon, bind and control demons.

  Itzal Tsuneo was the one that could be used to summon and control Takeshi. Worse? It could be used to enslave him the same way Nick's father had once enslaved Caleb and Grim.

  "I would never do that to anyone. Dude, really. Not into using people or demons."

  Nashira placed her hand over Takeshi's and pulled the blade from Nick's throat. "He's telling the truth, Neo. Ambrose is not his father or any of the others. It's why he freed me when he didn't have to." She leaned forward to whisper loudly in his ear. "Kill him, husband, and you know what horror will grow to power in his stead."

  "You are ever my wisdom, Shira." He dissolved the dagger, yet continued to glare at Nick.

  Nick glanced over to Simi. She didn't appear to be the least bit concerned by Takeshi's violent outburst. So much for her protecting him.

  Or she knew Takeshi really meant that he wasn't going to kill him.

  Hoping for that, he let out a nervous breath. "Okay then. At least now we know your parents didn't really name you Bob."

  Which was the English equivalent to Takeshi, not so much in meaning as just in the routineness of it.

  Takeshi finally laughed. "You're not as stupid as you look."

  "Nah, thankfully, right? And what can I say? I'm addicted to manga." Nick winked at him. "And since you're not gutting me, I'm here to understand what was broken and how. Most of all, I want to repair it."

  No sooner did he finish speaking than the room around them lit up with transparent and elaborate charts and lists that hovered in mid air. It was a spectacular display like something in a science fiction movie, only much better done. And a lot brighter and more intricate.

  "What is this?" Nick breathed in awe of it.

  "The time line of your life."

  Nick's jaw dropped yet again. It was like looking out onto a foreign galaxy. Or the inside of a computer. Some spots were brighter than others. Some were white. Some blue. Some red and others orange. All were punctuated by writing he couldn't read-- which was never supposed to happen to him. As the Malachai, he should understand all languages and writing. "What do the different colors signify?"

  "The orange ones are your pith points." Those were the virtually unchangeable events. Things that were for the most part set in stone, and that could only be moved with the most catastrophic consequences and Herculean efforts. "Blue are the ones that will forever change your core personality." Takeshi cut him a sarcastic grimace. "Believe me, you don't want to tamper with those ... Red are the ones that define your character." Takeshi grinned. "Some of those, you might want to consider changing."

  "Thanks."

  He didn't comment on Nick's interjection. "White is your original path. Yellow are breaks where you've veered from what your timeline once was."

  Crap. There was a lot of yellow and yet while it veered away a bit, it always looped right back to its original course. Like a snapped rubber band. Kind of weird, really. 'Cause from what Nick could see, he hadn't really changed anything. It was what Ambrose had said. For everything he tried, it went right back to where it'd started.

  Nothing ever really changed.

  The lines stayed basically where they'd been. Time didn't want to be changed. It fought back with a vengeance.

  Nick stepped closer to the lights. "How can you see all this?"

  Simi tsked at him. "He a zeitjager, silly demon-boy! They can always see time maps. It why the Simi brung'd you here! They's much better for this than them Greek godlings."

  It was impressive. He'd give her that. Scary, but impressive.

  Nick held his hand up to touch the timeline. His hand passed painlessly through the twinkling lights the same way it would go through some laser light show. The moment he made contact, though, bright green sparks lit up from his hand, across his chart.

  Takeshi sucked his breath in sharply.

  "What? What'd I screw up now?" That was the typical answer whenever things went haywire around him.

  His features pale, Takeshi shook his head. "All that green ..."

  "Yeah? What about it?"

  Nashira turned as white as her hair. "Is that what I think it is?"

  Takeshi swallowed hard. "Yes." He met Nick's gaze and the feral fear that was deep in his eyes made Nick step back from him. "The green is where someone's trying to throw your life out of alignment."

  That didn't sound good at all. In fact, it was making his ulcer bleed--not that he had an ulcer, but at this rate, one might be developing.

  And having babies.

  Nick swallowed hard. "I thought that was the yellow."

  "No, the yellow is where you've changed it with the decisions you've made. And as you can see, it didn't really alter anything. That green is someone else. Someone who shouldn't have the ability to change anything in your life. And, kid, they're shifting your future even as we speak."

  CHAPTER 2

  Cyprian froze as a strange sensation went up his spine.

  "Is something amiss, my lord?"

  He cut a stinging glare to his obsequious minion. With greasy brown hair, and pock-marked skin, the slug demon was repugnant enough. That nasal tone only grated his nerves all the more. To the point, it was all he could do not to rip its head off and feast upon its organs. "Where's my mother?"

  "In her war room."

  He snorted at the pun given the fact that his mother was Laguerre ... an ancient battle-goddess who didn't so much as invent the art of war as she'd perfected it.

  It was what she lived for. Blood. Mayhem. Utter and extreme violence. Those were her happy, go-to places.

  Like him.

  Reversing his course, Cyprian headed for the paneled study that held some of the deadliest artifacts in the known universe. Ancient artifacts that currently included his mother and her ex-husband, Grim.

  Cyprian hesitated in the shadows of the doorway as the two of them poured over some matter with great intent. They were ever plotting against someone--many times for no other reason than they'd been given the wrong order at the local coffee shop.

  Since his mother was a goddess, she didn't appear more than a few years older than his teenaged body. But her beautiful, young looks were definitely deceiving.

  As were Grim's.

  Much like Cyprian's mother's long languid movements that belied her quicksilver lethality. She'd deceived many fools to their graves with her slowness. They never realized just how swift she was to anger or stab.

  Until it was too late.

  Her dark hair fell to her waist in thick waves. It was a stark contrast to Grim's lighter shade and stocky, muscled body. Together, the two of them had once led armies over the ancient world, destroying everything and everyone they came into contact with.

  Good times that.

  And why not? They were ancient gods of War and Death--the original riders who'd brought those concepts to the world of man and demon. Turmoil and chaos were what they lived for and what they both sought with every breath they drew forth into their not-so-human bodies.

  Some thought that only Death could defeat War.

  But Cyprian would take odds on his mother winning any fight between the two of them. She was vicious that way. Not to mention, she cheated.

  They paused mid conversation to stare at him.

  "Is something wrong?" his mother asked, making no attempt to hide her annoyance over Cyprian's interruption. Which made sense, given that she could barely stand her son and had never glossed over that fact for anyone's benefit.

  Especially not Cyprian's. Indeed, she'd gone out of her way to toughen him up with insults and degradations to ensure that his skin was thicker than any tank brigade on the planet. At the rate she'd set fire to his more tender feelings, he should have bought stock in flame retardant Kevlar.

  "Do you not feel it, Mother?"

  Laguerre hesitated before she punched at Grim. "He's right. We've been discovered."

  Rubbing his arm where a bruise was no doubt forming from her blow, Grim shook his head. "Not possible. Besides, look again. It's just another nosy zeitjager who's uncovered our most recent actions. Ignore him and he'll go away. Or we'll kill him if he pursues it. Either way, it's of no consequence to us. I wouldn't spend three seconds worrying over it."

  "I'm not so sure about that." Cyprian's gut remained tight with his uncertainty. "What if this younger Ambrose has found another way back to challenge us?"

  "So what if he has?" His mother gave him a tolerant, yet irritated smirk. "It would be centuries before your birth. He has no memory of you or his precious wife as neither of you has been born yet. And in our time he died in battle only minutes after he learned of your existence. So even if Ambrose returns here, there's nothing to warn Nick about the future he's trying to avoid--we've shielded it too carefully. None of them have a clear vision of what we have in store for them. Our magick is too strong. Not even his little Nekoda remembers it clearly, thanks to our allies. Everything is working as it needs to. Therefore, we don't have to fear his interference. He knows nothing of his real destiny or any of those that are truly important. Trust in me."

  She said that, but the Ambrose Malachai had already screwed things up by coming to the past so unexpectedly and had forced them to venture here in order to repair the changes he'd wrought that had caused a fracture in their plans.

  Altered the world where Cyprian had ruled as the grand demon overlord and fulfilled the Malachai prophecy that his father had forsaken. He couldn't allow his father to screw things up again. This was what he'd been bred for and it was what he wanted.

  All he wanted.

  He jerked his chin at the red sfora on the desk near his mother's hand. It'd been taken from the Atlantean god, Acheron, when they'd defeated him in the guise of Ambrose. With that orb, they had access to all destinies, as Acheron had been born the final fate of everything. "Have you looked at it lately?"

  "At what?"

  "To make sure everything is fine?"

  She leaned back in the chair with a peeved glare. "You doubt me?"

  Of course he did. The only thing he didn't doubt was the sensation in his gut. That was irrefutable.

  She was not.

  More than that, she was expendable.

  So he decided to call her bluff. "Well, if you're so sure, can we not go home? Why are we still in this godforsaken time period if all is right in the universe, as you say? Surely, we've spent enough time here?"

  The light in her eyes went out as the smile faded. "Don't get cheeky with me, boy. I am your mother."

  To whom he owed nothing as her maternal instincts amounted to the size of the head of a tiny pin.

  Which made the Malachai in him rear up at her confrontation. "You need to remember who serves whom ... Mother. You may have given me life, but I allow you to live. And to serve at my leisure." He cut a glare to Grim. "Both of you. Therefore, I suggest you do as you're told and remember that though I might be in the skin of a teenager ..." He exploded into his real demonic body, complete with horns and wings. "It's only an illusion. I am the Malachai. Fully formed and unlike my worthless father, fully aware of who and what I am, and of all my abilities. And more than capable of destroying you both, even with your powers combined. Do not push me. Do not cross me. You are both my servants and nothing more."

  Never one to be intimidated, his mother rose to her feet to glare at him while her breath came in sharp, brittle gasps. "And you'd best damn remember that even with all your magnificent abilities as you proclaim, a Malachai cannot travel through time without assistance." She raked a less than impressed stare over his body. "Even one who's fully formed. You have no other allies who will work with you by choice. Nor do you know anything more than your father's memories as they were." She glanced to Grim then sneered at Cyprian. "Like it or not, boy, you need us. So don't threaten me again, unless it's your wish to remain here and never reach the future you want to return to."

  In that moment, it took everything he had not to choke her with his powers. To rip out her cold heart and feed it to the worthless snipe beside her.

  But sadly, she was right. Every bit of it. For now, he needed her, whether he liked it or not. And he definitely didn't like this bitter taste of gall in his mouth.

  His breathing labored, he turned on a hostile heel and stalked from the room. Yet with every click of his combat boot heels, he plotted their deaths in his mind.

  And his father's.

  "Your day is coming, Ambrose. The darkness dawns and I intend to ram it straight down your throat."

  Again.

  The memory of their battle to come was what he lived for. Especially after having been forced to endure in this primitive time period. Gah, it was amazing that mankind had survived as long as they had. Why they were so upset with his eradication was beyond him.

  Honestly, he'd done them all a favor by wiping the human scum from the planet. They should have given him a medal.

  Had they?

  No. Instead, the thankless beasts had sent an Arel back in time to stop him.

  Cyprian cocked his head as he heard his mother speaking with Grim.

  "He's getting too big for his britches."

  "Shh!" his mother snapped. "He'll hear you."

  "It's ridiculous. We were riders of the Apocalypse. The chosen usumgallu! You were the Sarru-Tahazu and I the Sarru-Namus. Now ..."

  "We will ride again. My father's almost dead. All we have to do is ensure the timeline remains as it should and return to our time period. Once Noir is weaker, we can take his blood and use it against Cyprian to bind him to us. Once we do that, we'll be the ones in control. Have patience, my love."

  Cyprian felt the Malachai surging, wanting their blood. But as his mother said ...

  Patience.

  He'd come this far. He could make the distance. And if they thought to overthrow and enslave him as Noir had once done his grandfather, then they were about to learn the truth behind the Malachai.

  Only one of his own blood could stop him.

  That would be a son, which he didn't have.

  Or his father ...

  "Not on my watch, old man." Just as that day in battle when he'd driven his sword through his father's heart and kicked him away to die, he would emerge victorious again.

  It was the Malachai destiny to reign over this world. And while his father might be weakened by the kindness he'd learned from his Seraph mother, he was not.

  Forget dancing in the rain. Before all was said and done, Cyprian intended to dance in the blood of every living creature.

  And none more so than Ambrose Malachai.

  Nick jumped as his phone rang. Stunned, he glanced to Takeshi, then to Simi and Nashira. "Um ... anyone have any idea how there's a cell tower in this dimension?"

  Takeshi snorted. "It's magick."

  "Seriously, bruh? You took it there?"

  He shrugged nonchalantly. "You asked. That's the answer. I have to allow it for all the times Acheron comes to visit. Those Dark-Hunters of yours never leave that poor boy alone. I don't know how he stays sane."

  Simi made a rude noise. "Ain't that the truthest? Ring. Ring. Ring. That ole phone ring so much, I swear The Simi hears it even in her sleep. I et it once and it made him real unhappy. Didn't make the Simi as happy as the Simi thought it would either. And no one wants to know what happens when it has to come back out 'cause them phones are not biologically degradeable."

  Not wanting to think about that comment at all, Nick pulled his phone out. "Hey, Ma, sorry I'm--"

  "Where are you, Boo?"

  Nick winced at her hysterical tone. That was what his mom was most famous for. If he ever got out of her sight, she was like a bloodhound, tracking him down to the farthest reaches of the cosmos. He was surprised she hadn't tethered them together on his arrival from her womb, and insisted, rather than cut the cord, they find some way to fuse it together permanently so that he could never leave her side.

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