08 Alaska Kingdom Read online

  Her life was so different now—a restored Warling, part of Steven Drokharis’s Escort, in a war to end the greatest evil in the universe.

  Uchiko knew she should be grateful. Yet seeing the Shadow Archer, being close to her, had brought back enough bad memories to choke her.

  A noise quickened her pulse. Clicking and whistling filled the air. The sound brought the ninja to her feet.

  A swarm of Shaze, huge six-legged demons with beetle-like buzzing wings and green grubs glowing in their bellies, flew through the moonlight, about a mile away.

  Steven and Tessa had used their magic to create warning signals in case the Zothoric descended on the airport. Uchiko thought that was fine. However, she wanted to be outside in case those defenses failed. She could murder the demons from behind while Steven’s other wives engaged them from the front.

  Two figures emerged from the tangle of levels and roads connected to the main terminal. The pair walked across the weed-ravished tarmac. Uchiko retrieved her binoculars, though by the walk, she knew who was coming to check up on her: Steven and Sabina, Uchiko’s cariño. The ninja’s heart swelled; her love for the woman surprised her. Both were older women who’d been wounded and had fought on.

  Sabina had nearly been killed by her Prime and his minions. Uchiko knew how that felt. She’d had betrayals of her own. She’d never forget the gardener’s beating, only he hadn’t been a gardener, not at all. Niwashi had been an ancient Dragonsoul, Paanga Komang, who followed his own code.

  Steven and Sabina changed into their True Forms and flew up from the ground, winging through the air. Sabina was half as big as Steven, about fifteen feet long compared to his thirty.

  Her scent, lavender and sage, perfumed the air as they grew closer, until the pair landed on the edge of her perch in the control tower. Steven turned into his dear self, complete with a shock of black hair, light gray eyes, and a nice mouth, good lips to kiss. He was in his jeans and boots, with a wool sweater over a black hoodie, the new teardrop amulet working to help transform his clothes. He’d left his bastard sword back at the airport.

  As for Sabina, when she shifted, she was in a thick dress with tights and a parka, which covered her swelling belly. Sabina’s breasts had gotten heavier, and Uchiko marveled at how dark her nipples had become. The tanaquil had given Sabina a boost to her libido, and yet, that was nothing compared to the pregnancy hormones. Uchiko knew that something sexual would happen with the three of them in the perch. Her heart quickened.

  Prudence Wayne would’ve tried to take care of Sabina’s insatiable needs while Uchiko had been away. The ninja Warling wasn’t jealous. She’d been around Dragonsouls long enough to understand their passionate ways.

  Sabina’s eyes glowed like emeralds from her Divinatio magic. The Latina Magician threw her arms around Uchiko. She whispered, “Mi cariño.”

  Uchiko kissed her long and sweetly. That lavender and sage smell drifted off her along with an unmistakable musk. Uchiko eased herself back and touched Sabina’s round belly. “She’s growing. Every day she is growing.”

  “She is a spark of life in this dead world. Reggie will rule this world one day, long eons from now. I’ve seen it.”

  Regina Drokharis, the life in Sabina’s womb, was one of the reasons why they kept close to the Denver International Airport—Sabina said they were safe there. She’d never seen the Zothoric attack their base in her many visions. She’d also been quick to point out that there would be fighting there, just not with the Zothoric.

  Uchiko had a better understanding of that prophecy now. They’d invited not one but two enemies into their home: Tara Heridan and the Shadow Archer.

  Steven held Uchiko tight, kissed her, and she smelled his smoky orange blossom scent. He was delicious. Every part of him. Uchiko understood part of the attraction she felt was the Dragonlord magic binding her to him. She didn’t care. He’d been kind. He’d offered her a home. And in the end, he’d healed her, along with sweet Tessa, using ancient Alpherian magic that defied her understanding of the world and her place in it.

  Steven smiled at her. “Uchiko, I know you like being alone, but you don’t have to be. We are having a meeting in the airport. You should be there.”

  Uchiko walked to the edge of her perch. She gazed out into the night. “I serve you, Steven. You have your schemers, you have your dreamers, and all I am, all I ever want to be, is your eyes, your shield, a dagger thrust in the darkness.”

  Sabina murmured a melody, a haunting tune, which she said was Reggie’s song. The Magician’s eyes winked off. She was blind again, and yet, her senses were so sharp, it was like she could see. She sat down in a chair taken from the terminal. “Mi cariño, I don’t blame you for hating the Shadow Archer. We never fought her until recently, but you spent hundreds of years going up against her. We feel bad.”

  “We do,” Steven agreed. “But she can help find a way to get to the Lyra home world. And she can help me with my Morta core. At this point, we need her.”

  Uchiko turned to face them, Sabina sitting, Steven standing. “She will betray us.”

  “To be honest, I’m more concerned about Tara Heridan,” Steven said. “There’s a good chance we were too late at the Leadville Cruxis. She might not switch to our side.”

  “She will,” Sabina countered. “I’ve seen it. She is torn. She is working to heal her mind. It will take some time, mi amor. We must be patient.”

  Steven sighed. “I’ve caught glimpses of her future too, Sabina. And in some of my visions, it doesn’t go down that way. She tries to kill us all. Tessa shoots her, and not with one of her nice bullets.”

  Sabina smiled, facing forward. “I ignore those possibilities. There are only a few, and if it comes to that, Tessa will take care of us. One last word on this. I like to win. Heridan could tell Zothora, the Horror Mother, where she is at any time. If she did, the Shaze would blacken the sky. She hasn’t. She won’t.”

  The Magician reached out to Uchiko. “Come here, mi cariño. Let me touch you.”

  Uchiko went to her, standing close enough to feel her heat.

  Sabina’s hands settled on her hips. “I worry for you. I worry you are alone too much, and you believe your fear.”

  “I am not afraid,” Uchiko protested.

  “But you are. I know you, Uchiko, and your fears made you stay with me while Steven and the others went to confront Spider Finger. You must have faith in us, in our strength. We will win this fight, like we’ve all the others.”

  Uchiko hated for Steven to hear Sabina’s words. She wanted him to believe she was as strong as all the others.

  Sabina’s hands went into Uchiko’s robes, feeling her skin there.

  Uchiko shivered. “It’s cold.”

  “I can help with that.” Steven grew into his True Form, careful to keep his massive clawed feet from destroying anything. He towered over them, and the heat of his body settled down onto Uchiko.

  What a mighty creature he was, thirty feet long, brimming with fire and power.

  Sabina slipped down onto the floor, pulling down Uchiko’s pants until her sex was exposed. “I know how to make you feel better, mi cariño.”

  Uchiko gasped when she felt Sabina’s warm mouth between her legs.

  Steven’s heat, his presence, was as comforting and exciting.

  Sabina pushed her hands up to cup Uchiko’s small breasts. Her sensitive nipples hardened. The erotic electricity ran back and forth from her tits to her slit. It didn’t take long, and she was shaking, shivering, into Sabina’s mouth. Her skin glowed a reddish-yellow, growing more intense until the colors melted into orange. She felt fresh energy fill her healed core.

  Sabina rose and kissed Uchiko. The ninja smelled herself, tasted herself, on the Latina’s lips.

  This was good. They all needed the Animus, and that included Sabina.

  Uchiko eased Sabina back into the chair. She pulled down the Magician’s tights and lifted her dress.

  “The others are waiting,” Sabina whispered. “But we have time for this. Lick me, mi cariño. Make me feel good. Eat me while Steven watches.”

  Steven’s heat made Uchiko’s hot body sweat more.

  She bent and tasted Sabina’s essence. At the same time, the ninja wiggled her small, tight ass at the dragon.

  He knew what she needed.

  Steven shifted human. “This was easier when I could just shift naked. Oh well.” He dropped his pants.

  Without Steven’s True Form there to heat the perch, the cold air of the autumn night descended on them.

  He sank his length into Uchiko. She found herself whimpering as he thrust into her, over and over, the pleasure growing. When Sabina finally reached her climax, a green light glimmered across the sweat on her skin. Her orgasm was so hot, so delicious, Steven couldn’t help but lose himself to his own. He didn’t glow, but smoked, as darkness leaked from his satisfied flesh. Was this new? The ninja wasn’t sure.

  They dressed. Uchiko needed more touching. “Hold me,” she said to the Magician and the Dragonlord. The ninja was so happy when Steven shifted again, this time into a Homo Draconis, to hold them against his hot scales.

  This was the warmth Uchiko needed. Her fear was freezing her. Sabina was right. She was spending too much time alone. Yet, that was her fate, to be on the outskirts of the Escort, to keep her friends and lovers safe.

  As for Nefrinasia, the others might be tricked by the Shadow Archer, but not Uchiko. She would watch the villain, closely, and when she betrayed them, Uchiko would drive the sickle of her kusarigama into her treacherous heart.

  Chapter Four

  GIDEON SCARAMANGA SOMEHOW had found jeans, but he didn’t remember putting them on. He didn’t remember much after his death.

  Steven Drokharis had melt
ed his flesh from his bones and reduced his beautiful BlackBlood magic to ash. There had been nothing for a time, nothing, and then pain, so wonderful, so delicious, better than any orgasm, better than any meal. It was sweet suffering that forged him anew in its fire until he didn’t want it to end because the agony had become his identity.

  Gideon had long gray fingers, the nails black and splitting his skin, which oozed black Morta fluid. It dripped onto his jeans. His jeans were already wet but not with Morta.

  He sat on the bank of a lake. In the middle, built up from the murky depths, was the hard shell of a Cruxis dome. Inside would be Shaze in spit chambers, stewing until they were ready. Other creatures were being forged there as well—Splackers, Zalarfang, the Toufulkor. That wasn’t all. The Zothoric took Dragonkind—Warlings, Morphlings, and Magicians—and turned them into Hybrith.

  Dead mountains lay behind Gideon. Dead plants surrounded the lake. Beyond that were dead houses on dead streets. Even the bacteria were gone.

  Gideon wondered which lake this was.

  Standley Lake.

  The voice whispered through his mind. The ancient goddess had been with him during the pain. She had soothed him. She had shown him worlds he would be allowed to devour. He could eat them, burn them, fuck them to death. The pain would be worth it. The pain was all he was.

  Gideon gazed down at his chest. Above his left nipple, a black button on his chest, was a knife buried in his heart. He touched it, and the Animus swirled around him, and he felt his old spells at his fingertips.

  The Animus center of him was the source of Magica Defensio, Cura, Impetim, Incanto, Divinatio, and Porta.

  Yet, he had a second core, of Morta, inside him. The orbs were like planets drawn to each other, caught in each other’s orbits, a power that crackled and spit and spun.

  The Morta core let him access BlackBlood, NecroMend, and four other skills—he rejoiced at his power, the sheer power, and he had her to thank.

  Why me? He asked the goddess, who was coming, who was on her way, but moving was difficult for the Horror Mother, the Uterich, the Womb Mistress... Zothora.

  The mother of the Zothoric.

  Her very existence made him want to weep for joy, wail in sorrow, and cut himself with his new knife—not the one his chest, no, that was a special knife. He knew of it, the Resurrection Blade, some called it. That was why he had the Animus.

  No, he had a foot-long black dagger now. His old steak knife was gone. He couldn’t remember why it was important. This new knife was sharper, bigger, and it had a serrated edge he could use to saw through his arm.

  He would grow it back. He had grown back his heart, his lungs, his brains, and all the sinews that pulled him around, a grateful puppet to a horrific yet perfect puppet master, a master he was grateful to serve.

  He no longer had hair, but chitin, covering his scalp, which was horned and misshapen. He no longer had teeth, but needles in his mouth, for he would not have to eat human food again. He would rend the Animus grubs and suck down the life-giving force. Their energy would fill both his cores.

  Gideon wouldn’t be alone in his new existence.

  Wriggling across the surface of the lake came an old friend, a snake with hardened scales, each scale razor sharp. Fifty feet long and two thousand pounds, the snake lifted itself out of the water and writhed its way through the air, dark smoke coming from its eyes, and more fluid dripping from its mouth.

  He hissed and spun around Gideon, who looked up, laughing, at the wonderful perverted thing Karlos Butcher had become. Gideon sat under the cyclone of the dark snake, until the Hybrith vanished. A boar appeared in the dead weeds of the bank, an armored boar, with sharp hooves, spiked like a goathead thorn.

  Butcher sniffed and snorted. He lowered his head and ripped up the ground with a tusk. He then came over and sank down next to Gideon.

  Gideon reached out and petted the chitin covering the pig. “Butcher, we lost Kai Charon to the fucking kid. He was the weakest of us. If you fail, you will die too. Or perhaps Zothora will bring you back?” Gideon coughed and retched black from his mouth. His insides were still being fixed.

  Why bring me back, Queen Zothora? he asked again. That awful entity was millions of light years away and as close as his breath.

  I enjoy your love for me, Gideon Scaramanga. I am alone.

  But that was impossible. She had quintillions of creatures to keep her company. And her Prosha, two on each planet, only on the Battle World, there was only the one.

  You are not alone, my love. Gideon relaxed into the words.

  You are special, Gideon. When you were human, you wanted to kill the world. Then, when you were a Hybrith, I made you perfect. And now, I’ve made you something else. Something more. Something that will serve me well.

  Black tears leaked down Gideon’s face. “I want to serve you, Mother! I want to serve you, lover! I want to serve you forever!”

  He screamed out the words.

  He didn’t need to, but he wanted to use his new lungs to scream it.

  Shaze whistled from the Cruxis at the center of the lake. They shivered their insect wings and raised themselves on their back legs, showing the glowing green grubs in their bellies. The grubs turned Morta into Animus. He would learn to do that trick.

  Butcher snorted and chuffed beside him.

  Butcher didn’t need to talk, or turn human, ever again. He had been made perfect by the Zothora.

  A Shaze broke off from the Cruxis and came over, its wings buzzing.

  Gideon realized he should be cold. It was autumn, the water was freezing, and the air was chill. He didn’t feel it. Actually, he felt it, but didn’t care, because his Morta core was far colder than that. It was a relentless void inside him.

  The Shaze’s eyes flashed red. Twin gleaming rubies ignited in the insect demon’s face.

  Gideon could sense the presence filling it. Ulita Rozhenko spoke in her Russian accent. “Gideon Scaramanga, are you enjoying your first night out of the Cruxis?”

  “I am, Ulita. Zothora whispers to me. She fills me. She loves me.”

  “Da, she loves us all,” Ulita agreed. “We serve her. She feeds us. She gives us eternal life. We will not fade as the Animus creatures fade. We will not be eaten as the Animus creatures are eaten. We will endure.”

  Butcher shifted from a boar to a bear covered in millions of black spines, more like a caterpillar than anything mammalian. He opened his mouth to reveal the poisonous fangs of a cobra. Yet he still emitted a decidedly ursine roar.

  “We will endure and enjoy the sweet torture.” Gideon lifted his hand to examine it. “You know, I’ve enjoyed my nerve endings before, fucking, but what a waste that was.” He unsheathed his serrated dagger and cut into the back of his hand. His nerves sang sweetly. “Pleasure is elusive and temporary. But the pain is enduring. Like you said, we will endure. My pain will endure.”

  Gideon accessed his Morta core, and he used NecroMend to heal the wound he’d given himself. Ageless, timeless, he would never grow old, never die, but if the Resurrection Blade were pulled from his chest, his cores would try and flee, his soul separated from his body. Zothora would catch the wisps of energies like fireflies and hold his soul to her withered breasts.

  “Da, I am glad you have already learned much.”

  Gideon wondered if there was envy in her voice. There had been, before, when he, Butcher, and Kai Charon had dealt with her.

  Zothora’s murmurs tickled his mind. There is no envy. There is only love among us. Ulita is needed in what the apes call Russia. You need a third in your Terror Trio, do you not?

  Gideon’s eyes fluttered at Zothora’s voice. He grew erect. His penis would be as perfected with Morta as the rest of him.

  Butcher whined next to him.

  “Come forward and join us, Dragonknight!” the Ulita presence in the Shaze called out.

  A figure limped toward them, in a cloak and medieval armor, the golden plates covered in Morta fluid. The cowl of the cloak covered his face as he limped up. On his arms were golden bracers, as stained as his armor.

  Gideon had heard of the Dragonknights, but he never thought he’d see one. Yet, this ghostly figure seemed like he’d stepped out of a storybook.

  A gauntlet rose and swept back the cowl to reveal a face torn to shreds, bleeding black blood, and writhed in green flame. That green reminded Gideon of the bulbous back of an Animus grub. Lips hung from his skull, revealing even yellow teeth. So this knight had been human at one time. The eyes, bloodshot, bleeding, burned in his skull with that same green fire. A golden circlet, a crown, covered the remnants of his scalp. Most of the hair, greasy and stinking, had been torn away.