Sword- Part Two

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Description

  SWORD: Part Two | SEEKING REFUGE

  CHASING SHADOWS

  AN AWKWARD AFFAIR

  FALSE START

  A MATTER FOR THE AUTHORITIES

  PILGRIMAGE

  CHILD OF PROPHECY

  MAGI’S GAMBIT

  THE WATCHER

  ARKHANGELSK

  A CUNEIFORM CHALLENGE

  SERAPH BLADE

  CONVERSION

  ANGELS AND DEMONS

  BLOOD AND BONE

  CRUSADE

  QUARRY

  THE SIMPLICITY OF EMPATHY

  CULMINATION

  THE RECKONING

  ETERNITY WAS IN OUR LIPS AND EYES

  WANT MORE?

  About the Author

  Also by the Author

  Praise for Keepers of Genesis Series

  Acknowledgements

  BrixBaxter Publishing – Experience New Worlds

  Copyright

  SWORD: Part Two of the Keepers of Genesis Series

  Copyright © DB Nielsen 2017

  First published in USA by BrixBaxter Publishing in 2017

  Cover Design by XLintellect Pty Ltd

  Photograph Copyright ©

  Nikita Levrints/Shutterstock.com;

  June Marie Sobrito/Shutterstock.com;

  Captblack76/Shutterstock.com

  Cover Image Copyright © A. Brix-Nielsen / XLintellect Pty Ltd

  The right of DB Nielsen to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form, or with any binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locals is entirely coincidental.

  Description

  “I had promised St. John that I would trust him. Always. Implicitly. But it wasn’t proving so easy ... Love and trust had been fused to suffering and torment...”

  To be irrevocably in love with a Nephilim is the stuff of dreams and nightmares woven into a dangerous reality for Sage Woods. For now that St. John is enslaved to the Ice Queen, the quest to return the Seed to the Garden of Eden hangs in the balance without its Keeper and the commitment of the Wise Ones. Whilst her fate is bound to the Seed, Sage’s intense passion and profound connection to St. John leads her to risk all through increasingly reckless actions – and will come at a terrible price.

  But is it even possible to save an immortal from madness?

  And what price is too high to pay, even for true love?

  SWORD part two is the sixth book in the Keepers of Genesis Series

  SWORD: Part Two

  SEEKING REFUGE

  CHAPTER ONE

  I found out that it was physically possible to feel your heart breaking. It was a feeling like no other – a tightness in your chest like there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room to breathe; a leaden heaviness in the pit of your stomach that made you feel hollow yet want to vomit at the same time; a light-headedness like you’ve been sucker punched; and a hurt that penetrated so deeply that you felt you’d never ever be able to put yourself back together, like you were shattering into millions of pieces and the tiniest shards – fragments of yourself – those slithers that are often impossible to find, would be missing, leaving you forever incomplete.

  I experienced all of these things.

  How I managed to remain steady on my feet, I didn’t know.

  All I knew was that finally they had broken the kiss and Isabella was now facing me, a look of smug triumph upon her flawless face, malice flashing from cornflower blue eyes. She didn’t seem at all embarrassed at being caught or even slightly displeased with the interruption as she smoothed down her stunning designer gown – a strapless, deep dark purple silk sheath with Grecian draping that hugged every curve of her body lovingly – in a pretence of making herself look presentable but, in actuality, she wished for me to see how superior she was to me in every way.

  In an instant, I took in the unimaginable horror of it all.

  Belladonna’s seductive snare had worked all too well. The purple shade of lipstick she wore, which matched her gown, was smeared across St. John’s mandarin dress shirt collar and jaw. All those kisses – every greeting and parting kiss, every slight physical contact made – transmitted her poison. I had only ever breathed in her foul scent but the others were not so lucky. Yet, even as the stench of her foul perfume assailed me, I cast it off and away from my mind. This time I was strong enough to resist its cloying, seductive pull upon my senses with the knowledge that Isabella was poison.

  ‘Sage,’ Isabella purred a sultry greeting, her silk dress rippling purple-black as she slithered forward. ‘Welcome. We’ve been expecting you.’

  I didn’t answer, just stared back at her. At them. At the damage she was inflicting.

  St. John hadn’t said a word, remaining silent as if struck dumb. Looking at him, I noted the dilation of his pupils to a blackness that seemed to fuse together with his irises as if these disturbingly enlarged, glassy black eyes were rimmed in green, similar to an eclipse. I had heard of women, centuries past, who would drop the juice of the belladonna plant in their eyes for a similar cosmetic effect, risking blindness. The Grigori had taught humans the art of cosmetics and the forging of weapons and other such skills – but they had failed to teach them how to limit their powers. St. John looked ghastly; his skin held a waxy texture and was drained of all colour, emphasising the darkness of his eyes and the bruised, purple rings underneath. And when he spoke, his normally honeyed voice was without warmth or colour.

  ‘Sage. You shouldn’t be here. You’re not wanted here. You should go.’

  ‘What! You can’t mean that!’ I exclaimed, goaded into talking to him. My hands fisted and I felt a frisson of energy escape. Then I realised I needed to calm down, to try reasoning with him. The poison was insidious, corrupting his thoughts. ‘You told me to meet you here. Don’t you remember? St. John, please. Try to fight this. I don’t know what she’s done to you, but you’re not well. I’m here now. I’m here to take you home.’

  He began to tremble at the sound of my voice, at my words, as if struggling internally with himself or something unseen, clenching his fists impotently as they shook by his side.

  ‘This is insane. You need to fight against the poison. Please darling. St. John, I’m begging you. Just come with–’

  ‘No!’ He cried, his face twisted as if possessed by a demon.

  There was recognition there in his eyes for the briefest moment as the pupils contracted to normal, but behind this was a pure horror – that is, until Isabella placed a hand on his cheek to calm him and he fell back into a state that was robotic and trance-like, as if she held him in thrall.

  ‘How touching!’ Isabella mocked.

  ‘Let him go, Isabella!’ I demanded of the Ice Queen. Hatred laced my voice.

  Her cruel laughter tinkled like ice crystals in the wind and her expression bore amusement as she commanded, ‘I don’t think so. I quite like having a pet.’

  ‘He’s not an animal!’ Loathing for her cruelty and conceit was apparent in every word I spoke. ‘Let him go ... and you can still save yourself ... or you’ll face the same punishment as t
he Fravashi soldier ...’

  My arm was twisted viciously behind my back by the Fravashi leader as he pushed me forward in demonstration of my helplessness, perhaps hoping that I would fall onto my knees in supplication before Belladonna. ‘You ought to be thinking of saving yourself, Wise One. Your lover is already gone.’

  St. John struggled at my rough handling as I teetered on my heels but managed to stay upright; green eyes suddenly blazing, burning bright in a too pale face, but Isabella languidly reached out and took him by the hand like a puppet master pulling his strings and said, ‘As sweet as this little reunion is, I’m afraid it’s over. Sariel, have the car brought round and escort our guests downsta–’

  Two long strides and the Fravashi leader behind me reached out and roughly grabbed my shoulders in a vice-like grip, bruising my tender flesh, before Isabella had even finished speaking. It was instinctive to resist – though, in all likelihood, futile. Yet still I struggled in his hold, which was not a total pretence as I was raging over being brutalised, even as I felt a strange lassitude steal over me – not from Isabella’s insidious poison but from the rising power of the Seed, as miniscule sparks of lightning flared between my fingertips.

  It was time.

  The marking on my palm pulsed again, sharply, as if in warning and recognition – and then the large window that looked upon the courtyard shattered inwards with a spray of sharp glass shards.

  In that instant, I threw my body to the side as the window imploded, loose chestnut curls flying across my face, only staying upright because of the Fravashi’s painfully tight grip.

  A series of shouts and a huge commotion came from outside the Asylum Room, from the patio where Finn had been standing earlier, exploding the tension within. Visibly panicked, Isabella turned towards the remaining jagged wooden frame, the blood draining from her fair face. I followed her gaze.

  The Anakim had arrived.

  They burst through the broken window with the force of a hurricane, yelling and screaming orders over each other. It was impossible to focus on what was going on or what they were saying. I saw Gabriel and Anak in the midst of the fracas, merely a blur to the human eye, as the Fravashi guards stormed into the room behind me, attempting to block them off. Flashes of pure energy lit the air like gunfire exploding from many weapons simultaneously.

  The Asylum Room was now a seething, churning receptacle of light as if I were trapped within a plasma ball. The air was filled with the metallic, burning smell of ozone, which hung heavily and oppressively in the room. And there was blood. Lots of it.

  It took a moment for me to recall that this was the plan. Now in full motion.

  The one they called Sariel loosened his grip on my shoulders, thrusting me away in response to the startling intrusion, and it was all the chance I needed to pull free. Wrenching away, I almost stumbled as I took several steps forward.

  Shattered glass and plaster sprayed across the floor, sparkling in the dawn sunlight as I tried to reach St. John. Frightened, I ducked, but more debris rained down upon my back and shoulders. There were screams and shrieks that split the early morning as doors were thrown open up and down the corridor and partygoers were darting out of them, frantically running away from the disturbance. Throngs of people crowded the corridors, pushing and shoving as they took flight downstairs and into the clamorous streets.

  The shrieks rose in volume behind me but I ignored them. I had to get to St. John.

  There were bloody patches on the rug in front of me and I could taste the sharp scent in the air. But I still attempted to crawl through. Then I felt my legs grabbed from behind as someone dragged me back out into the corridor, uncaring of my injuries.

  Sobbing, my last glimpse of St. John before Isabella blocked him from my view was of him staring after me, immobile and unresponsive to the uproar around him, but with a glimmer of something akin to relief in his eyes. The newly-risen sun illuminated the room, shining brightly upon St. John and falling upon his brass coloured curls tinting them with fairy dust.

  The door slammed shut behind us as I turned upon my attacker, working a leg free to slam my foot into his chest with all the force I could manage.

  ‘Oomph!’ Taken off-guard, the recipient of my Louboutin high heel kick did not sound too pleased. ‘What the hell is wrong with you? I’m getting you out of here! This is between Nephilim!’

  ‘Finn? You bastard! That’s for St. John! And this one’s for my sister!’ I kicked out at him again. ‘And this one’s for me!’ Adding one more for good measure before he caught hold of my foot and held it still.

  ‘Stop it!’ He refused to let go of my ankle, so I attempted to kick out with the other foot. He easily caught hold of that one too. ‘I mean it! Stop it, Sage!’

  ‘What the hell is wrong with me? What the hell is wrong with you?’ I threw back at him, aggressively. I was at a disadvantage as I almost lay upon the floor and he towered over me. ‘Get away from me, Finn! You’re one of them! I don’t trust you!’

  ‘Christ, I’m trying to help you! This isn’t your fight!’ he hissed at me angrily and blew out an exasperated breath as he dragged me further down the suddenly empty corridor and away from St. John and whatever was happening within the Asylum Room.

  I turned on him. ‘I don’t believe you! Let go of me or I swear–’

  ‘What? You’ll try to stomp me to death with your high heel shoes?’ he scoffed, regarding me through narrowed kingfisher blue eyes. ‘Not very scary, is it now?’

  There was a bitter taste in my mouth as, taking a shuddering breath, I turned my face away from him. But the power flowed through me and the only thing anchoring me to this moment in time and space was the symbol branded onto my palm. I felt it tingling, flaring to life, connecting me to every individual white and red blood cell in my body and down the threads that were bound to the blood-written symbols on the doors, down the path I had taken earlier. And now Home House began to shimmer as their ghostly presence was revealed, brightening in strength until they lifted from the wood grain and paint and threshed the air with a shower of luminescent gold as they named things truly.

  But before I could call the power into myself and direct its flow, Finn grabbed my wrists and hauled me off the floor. Letting me go abruptly, he uttered a sharp, unintelligible word, and raised a hand that suddenly held dancing blue flame. Muttering in a language long lost, symbols in fire flew from the source to appear on the walls like cursive writing, racing down the length of the hallway and splitting at the junction to continue beyond vision.

  The vacant corridors were now flooded in a lattice of shimmering liquid gold joined to blue flame, issuing a decree I could not read. My amber coloured eyes glowed golden in its wake, even as my mouth fell open in shock.

  ‘Don’t be an idiot. I’m trying to help you. A storm’s brewing, Sage,’ Finn said hostilely, cutting off my attempt to speak with a swift gesture, ‘like nothing you’ve ever seen or experienced before. I told St. John and I’m telling you now – you need help.’

  I was at a loss for words. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I am the son of a Watcher. I did what I had to do,’ Finn said, but his face had tightened.

  Wrenching myself away from him, I shouted, ‘Then you lied! You’re not trying to help me or the Anakim! You’re not on our side!’

  ‘I don’t have a side, Sage.’ He smiled crookedly. ‘Or, rather, I’m on my side. I told you: this isn’t your fight. Not now. Not yet. Come on. Let’s get you out of here.’

  I made a faintly choking noise, drawing back. ‘No. Not till you tell me what you’ve done. How did you–?’

  Finn sighed deeply, speaking without inflection as he answered me, ‘I took a moment from time, and time from the moment.’

  Stumbling back on my high heels, I whispered in shock, ‘You did what?’

  Suddenly I became aware of the golden and blue markings dissolving gradually in a gently flowing stream captured as individual particles like dust motes floating in the sunligh
t, and I felt the strangest sensation that I was there and not there. A haze of colours and shapes rushed past me whilst this happened, and the world blurred and snapped into sharp focus around me. The blood rushed into my head, causing a pounding in my ears and I momentarily swooned.

  ‘Time is not a river flowing in one direction at a constant rate, from the beginning of all things to the end of all things. Newton believed this, but it isn’t true.’ Finn ran a weary hand through his jet-black hair. ‘Think of time as a miraculous, intricate fabric where all the threads of what is, what was, and what will be are woven together, and all existing simultaneously, all co-existing in a continuum. And all the moments exist at once. All times. Past. Present. Future. And all exist in the moment.’

  I felt sick. This was beyond my mortal understanding. I was dealing with angels and demons and gods. And I wasn’t quite prepared for this.

  Seeing my look, Finn assured me, ‘Come, Sage. You don’t have to trust me. You only need to do as I say and you’ll live to see another day and save your boyfriend. We need to get you out of here before my half-sister realises you’ve escaped.’

  Not waiting for either my agreement or protest, he took me by the hand and yanked me forward, leading me through the network of empty, narrow passages and not the way I had come. From one or two of the rooms we passed came the sounds of partying still continuing unawares, but these seemed removed from the threat of the Asylum Room.

  I tried to dig my heels in. ‘We need to go back. I have to help them.’

  He didn’t seem to hear me.

  ‘Finn, I need to go back. I can’t just run away. I have a duty. That’s Belladonna they’re dealing with. She’s poison.’

  The lines of strain around his mouth and eyes told its own shocking story. ‘I know what she is but she has her orders. It’s Elijah she’s after, not the others.’

  Ice raced up my spine as he referred to St. John by his formal first name and I tugged at his hand, trying to force Finn to release me from his strong, stony grip. ‘Let me go! I have to go back! I have to save St. John!’