Immortals After Dark 12 - Lothaire

spell.
    “You’re no longer decent to look upon. Fitting that you keep the company of drooling beasts.”
    “Regeneration.” Dorada shrugged. Her customary adornments were nearly blinding, gold plates so heavy they looked like they’d crush her putrefied form. “Your male harmed me quite thoroughly. I wanted revenge on Lothaire. I had no idea I could mete it out to you as well.”
    This couldn’t be happening. It is foretold . . . It is foretold . . . Dread inundated Saroya, but she forced herself to give a dismissive wave. “What can you do to me?” Am I sweating from fright? “I am a goddess.”
    “You have no powers. And you’re pure evil. Easy for me to control. Shall I do as was divined so long ago?”
    Saroya swallowed. “If you attempt this, you will fail. And then I
will smite you with a god’s wrath.”
    Dorada smirked, her face drawn into a repellent mask. “I believe I will risk it.”
    Saroya turned to Lothaire. “Vampire, do something!”
    His muscles were knotted, his expression strained, but he remained unmoving. Dorada clearly had him under her thrall.
    “Don’t take Saroya, sorceress. There must another way to settle this!”
    Comprehension hit her. Lothaire was acting as if she were his Bride, because he knew that Dorada would cast her out to punish him.
    Sure enough, he’d discovered a way out of his vows. “Dorada, I am not his Bride! If you seek vengeance against Lothaire, then you must kill—”
    “Why do you deny me now, Saroya?” Lothaire yelled.
    Dorada raised her hand, her splayed fingers directing mystical energy at Saroya. The gold jewelry on her body reverberated, her sole eye glittering. The Wendigos howled as the air grew electric.
    “No!” Saroya shrieked. “Do not do this!”
    “I never would have harmed you, goddess, never would have targeted you, had you not beset me with your assassins. Fool! You turned me onto this path. You fulfilled this prophecy.”
    “You will pay, Dorada! My sister—”
    “Sends her regards.” Dorada shut her eye and snatched closed her fist.
    Blackness spread before Saroya, the prophecy repeating over and over as her consciousness began to dim.
    It is foretold that La Dorada, the Queen of Evil and of Golds, a sorceress of great power, will destroy Saroya the Soul Reaper, Goddess of Divine Death, condemning her to the Ether that spawned her, forever as formless as the chaos whence she sprang. . . .
    Foretold. A self-fulfilling prophecy. Dark. Silent. Cold.
    Nothingness.
    Saroya’s last thought: My actions had a consequence.

47
    E lizabeth collapsed to the ground, her body limp. Hours seemed to tick by as Lothaire—and Dorada—waited for her to wake. Waiting . . .
    At last, she rose, shooting upright in a rush, anxiously patting her chest. “Saroya’s gone?” Elizabeth faced him. “Ah, God, she’s gone!”
    Lothaire’s jaw slackened as he gazed upon her, taking in her radiant skin and vivid eyes. Those lips shaped like a bow . . .
    Before, her allure had tantalized him. Freed of Saroya, his female was irresistible.
    The being inside Elizabeth must have diluted his need for her. Now it was as if the fierce desire and protectiveness he’d felt for her had been multiplied exponentially.
    Then injected straight into his heart.
    My Bride. This was what everyone spoke of.
    Elizabeth’s face . . . as if a stained-glass window had shattered to let pure light shine in; she was ablaze with utter beauty—
    “Kill her, Lothaire,” Dorada said.
    Fighting her control, he made his tone scornful. “Why would I bother? You’ve taken Saroya from me.”
    “In case this mortal is your actual Bride.”
    Before, his own vows had chained him—now that he was freed of them, he felt more powerful than he’d ever been. Elizabeth was a beacon focusing everything inside him. “I will never harm her. And you know I can’t lie.”
    “I suspected she was your Bride. Now I command you to kill her.”
    “I don’t give a fuck, sorceress.” The only thing stronger than Dorada’s hold over him? Elizabeth’s hold on me. “You can’t compel me to hurt her. You’re not fully healed, and you’ve just debilitated yourself to kill a goddess. I will fight you till neither of us has any strength left to hurt Elizabeth.”
    “I will make this simple,” Dorada snapped. “You kill her. Or I will force you to kill yourself.”
    He laughed. “Then make it slow for me, súka . I like foreplay.”
    “Slow, Lothaire? I have all the time in the