Chapter 59
Maya withdrew immediately from her mother’s touch. It was the right path. The voice would be the same if it wasn’t playing in slow motion.
But the words-the explanation was all wrong. It had to be. You couldn’t go to the tree of souls unless you were dead.
And she wasn’t dead. Her heart was hammering loud-too loud. The pain in her body was real. She had been poisoned.
Maya knew it was still burning through her system. And how could that be if she had been healed properly? Where was the greatest healer her people had ever known? Surely, the latter would not have allowed poison to remain in her body, no matter what the risk to herself.
She pulled her shirt from her body and stared down at the scars on her chest. Her kind is rarely scarred. The wound was over her heart, a jagged, ugly scar that spoke volumes. A killing blow.
Could it be true? Had she died and been drawn back into the world of the living? She had never heard of such a feat. Rumors abound of course, but she hadn’t known it was truly possible.
And what of her mate? He would have journeyed with her.
Panic edged her confusion. Grief pressed her hard.
“Maya.” Her mother’s voice was demanding in her head, but was still distorted and slow.
She jerked her head up, her body shaking. The shadows moved again, sliding through the trees and shrubs.
Every muscle in her body tensed and knotted. What now? This time she felt the danger as forms began to take shape in a ring around her.
Dozens of them, hundreds, thousands even, so there was no possibility of escape.
Red eyes blazed at her with hatred and malicious intent. They swayed as if their bodies were far too transparent and thin to resist the slight breeze rustling the leaves in the canopy above them.
Creatures, every one. She recognized them. Some were relatively young by her standards, and some very old. Some were childhood friends and others teachers or mentors.
She had killed every one of them without pity or remorse. She had done it fast, brutally and any way she could.
One pointed an accusing finger. Another hissed and spit with rage. Their eyes, sunken deep in the sockets, weren’t eyes at all, but more like glowing pools of hatred wrapped in red blood.
“You are like us. You belong with us. Join our ranks,” one called.
“Think you’re better. Look at us. You killed again and again. Like a machine, with no thought for what you left behind p>
“So sure of yourself. All the while you were killing your own brethren p>
For a moment Maya’s heart pounded so hard in her chest she was afraid it might burst through her skin.
Sorrow weighed her down. Guilt ate at her. She had killed. She hadn’t felt when she did so, hunting each, one by one and fighting with superior intellect and ability.
Hunting and killing were necessary. What her thoughts on the subject were didn’t matter in the least. It had to be done.
She pulled herself up to her full height, forced her body to stand straight when her gut clenched and knotted.
Her body felt different, more leaden, clumsy even. As she shifted onto the balls of her feet, she felt the tremors start.
“You chose your fate, dead one. I was merely the instrument of justice.” She stated.
The heads were thrown back on the long, thin stick necks, and howls rent the air. Above them, birds lifted from the canopy, taking flight at the horrible cacophony of shrieks rising in volume.
The sound jarred her body, making her insides turn to gel.
A trick, she was certain. She knew in her heart her life was over. There were too many to kill-but she would take as many with her as possible to rid the world of such dangerous and immoral creatures.
The mage must have found a way to resurrect the dead. She whispered the information in her head, needing her mother to send a warning to the prince that armies of the dead would be once again rising against them.
“You are certain of this p>
“I have killed these in centuries long past, yet they surround me with their accusing eyes, beckoning to me as if I am one of them.” He replied.
From a great distance away, Her mother gasped, and for the first time sounded like Her beloved mother.
“You cannot choose to give your soul to them. We are so close,Maya, so close. I have found my lifemate. It is only a matter of time for you. You must hold out. I am coming to you p>
Maya snarled, throwing her head back to roar with rage.
“Imposter. You are not my mother p>
“Maya! What are you saying? Of course I am your mother. You are ill. I am coming to you with all haste. If those creatures are playing tricks on you p>
“As you are?” Maya interrupted harshly. “You have made a terrible mistake, evil one. I have a lifemate. I see your filthy abominations in color. They surround me with their vile blood stained teeth and their blackened hearts, wizened and shriveled.” Content originally comes from
“You have no lifemate,” Her mother said in denial. “You have only dreamed of him p>
” You cannot trap me with such deceit. Go to your puppet master and tell him I am not so easily caught.” Maya answered, and broke off the connection immediately and slammed closed all pathways, private and common, to her mind.
Spinning around, she took in her enemy, grown into so many faces from her past. She knew she was facing death.
Death for a crime she was not sure about.
A part of her still wasn’t in tune with the whole happenings in the strange place. A part of her sang that she had never killed, not to mention feed on blood; but the other part of her, the part that was visually sound in this dream believed that she had done so.
How?