Savannah Sacrifice Page 18

  “This place, this wonderful park has absorbed some of the happiness that goes on ’round here. All that good energy builds up, makin’ this the place you want to be when you want good things to come back to you.”

  “What’s going to happen?” Starling pressed.

  “Only your goddess can answer that,” Jamie said with a mischievous smile. “You must trust in her; she has shown me what is to come.”

  “They be here … ” Bethany looked around like she could see things others could not.

  “Who?” Starling asked.

  I promised I would be waiting… Asclepius’s spectral voice filled her mind.

  “She be comin’ soon,” Bethany whispered.

  “Who?”

  Asclepius’s ghostly figure stepped out from behind a large oak near the fountain. “My wife,” he said as he stroked his long beard..

  “Who’s your wife?”

  “Your goddess. My Epione. Have I never told you?” He smiled gently. “Did you get the books?”

  “Yes, and I’m going to use them to stop you from ever bothering me again.” She reached down and drew the Black from her purse and laid it on the ground next to Jasper’s body.

  “I think you will come to regret having said that. Do you know why Zeus sent me to the Underworld?”

  Starling shook her head. “What does that have to do with you being here?”

  “Zeus was angry when Artemis came to me and offered me gold to resurrect Hippolytus.” Asclepius glanced up at the sculpture of the woman at the top of the fountain.

  “You bring the dead back to life? Can you bring Jasper back to life?” She had learned her lesson for hoping, but this time she couldn’t help herself. She had to hope for Jasper’s return. She needed him back.

  “I could, but only when I was alive.”

  Her heart sank at his rejection. “If you can’t help me bring Jasper back, why are you here?”

  “I wish to help. You have great potential.”

  The wind shifted directions and it blew a faint mist off the water, the moisture wetting her face, drawing her attention to the fountain. The white, iron woman at the top shifted. Her hand, holding the iron dress above her knee, loosened and the changing fabric dropped to her ankle. Her face transformed. The lines of the woman’s face softened and her lips turned up into an easy smile. “Starling, my dear, you must trust my husband. He only wishes to help. Just as I do.” Epione floated down, rod in hand, and stopped beside Starling on the sidewalk. “We will make everything right just as Ariadne has promised.”

  Epione waved for the other women to step nearer. “Lay your hands on Jasper’s body. We need your power.” She gestured to Starling. “You need to put your hand over his heart.”

  Starling put her hands on Jasper’s chest. “I can’t do this … I don’t have enough power.”

  “You must trust in your gift, Starling. Your ability is strong. You just have to believe.” Asclepius flipped the book open and pointed down at the page. “Read the words.”

  Starling turned to the page and ran her finger over the black-inked words. Even though she didn’t know their meaning, they looked beautiful in the way they scrolled across the page. Spiritus, convenientibus terra viventium. Restitue animam et corpus. Benedictus in sæcula. Gratia. Misericordia. Amor … .

  “In order for it to work, you must believe. You must have full intention.” Asclepius kneeled beside her and placed his hands next to hers on Jasper’s chest. The woman all followed his lead until each were touching Jasper.

  Could she do what the ghost wanted of her? Three months ago, sitting in her family’s apartment in Vegas, she would have never believed she had the power to control anything—not spirits, not spells, and barely even her own emotions. Yet, this morning, with her fingers touching the still chest of the man she loved, she knew she had found power in her moments of weakness. She had overthrown her enemies, she had found justice when there seemed there would be none. She had changed.

  She closed her eyes and concentrated on her words. “Spiritus, convenientibus terra viventium. Restitue animam et corpus. Benedictus in sæcula. Gratia. Misericordia. Amor.”

  Power ran through her hands and she repeated the words again. The power amplified, drawing from her heart and draining through her fingers. There was a collective gasp from the other women as they, too, must have felt the power flow.

  Jasper inhaled deeply. A pink hue returned to his cheeks and his eyes fluttered open. “Starling?” he whispered. “Starling, are you okay?”

  The others sat back, taking their hands from Jasper. Asclepius moved beside Epione and laid his wraithlike hand upon hers.

  A tear of relief slipped down her cheek. “Jasper … You’re back. You’re … you’re alive,” she stammered. She lowered her forehead, touching it against his steadily warming cheek. “I love you.” She kissed his cheek. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Jasper reached up and wrapped his arms around her.

  “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I let this happen to you.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I sacrificed myself to protect you. I kept you safe. I would give my life again.” He drew in a long breath, filling his lungs. “Though, next time, I’ll get in the damn elevator.”

  “Next time, I’ll keep Jamie’s stone,” she said, looking toward the psychic.

  Jamie nodded, smiling. “A new one is on the house.”

  “As luck would have it,” Epione said, drawing Starling’s attention, “you’ll never have to worry about giving up your life again. Thanks to Starling, you have joined the ranks of the near immortal. Because she cast the spell, you will have her same weakness—if someone pulls your hair, you will die, but if you protect your weakness, you will be able to live forever … forever at Starling’s side.”

  “But what about the curse of our kind?” Ariadne asked.

  “This can’t happen again. Zeus can’t do this to another of our kind. He has to be stopped,” Starling said.

  Epione gave them a knowing look. “That is a war we will need to fight. All of us. Together. First, we need to gain strength. We need to unify. Do you think you can do that, Ariadne?”

  “Yes. I can’t think of many who would object to the fight.”

  “In the meantime, Starling, I must ask a favor of you.”

  “Anything for my goddess,” Starling said, her tears of relief and joy steadily slipping down her cheeks as she stared at Jasper’s full lips.

  “Would you please help me?” Asclepius asked. “I wish to join my wife, and should you and your kind choose, your fight as well.”

  Starling nodded. “Ladies, let’s hold hands. We need to repeat the spell for Asclepius. He wishes to no longer be merely a ghost.” She gave Jasper a soft kiss to the cheek and stood up. “Stand in the middle of the circle, Asclepius.”

  The ghost drifted to the center of the women as they all joined hands.

  “Spiritus convenientibus terra viventium. Restitue animam et corpus. Benedictus in sæcula. Gratia. Misericordia. Amor,” the women said in unison.

  The wind around them sped up and twisted. In the center of the circle, Asclepius’s body started to form from his ghostly features. His gray-speckled beard filled out and his face took on the hue of sun-warmed honey. Gone was the mistiness of his wraith form.

  Asclepius ran to Epione and took her in his arms. “My love,” he whispered, pressing his lips to hers. He looked over to the women. “I knew you were the one, Starling.”

  “The one?” Starling let go of Jamie’s hand and returned to Jasper’s side.

  “Yes,” Asclepius replied, drawing Epione deeper into his arms. “You are the one who is going to save us all.”

  She didn’t know if she believed him, but it didn’t matter. She had tapped into her powers. She had the man she loved—a man who was now nearly immortal.

  “One more thing,” Epione said, stepping out of Asclepius’s arms with a quick kiss. “You have proven yourself a woman of great strength, courage, a
nd character. As such, I’m honored to give you the gift of the mark.”

  “The mark?” Jasper asked.

  “Every nymph has a tattoo of their totem animal,” Starling explained. “For me, it’s the swan.”

  “Are you ready?” Epione asked.

  Starling lowered the edge of her dress, exposing the back of her neck. Epione touched the spot gently. There was a flash of warmth as the ink moved through her skin, forming her black swan.

  “Be proud. You are Nymph. You are a demigod. You are my sister,” Epione said with a slight bow.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. You deserve the world for returning my love to me.” Epione tipped her head in acknowledgment and returned to Asclepius.

  Jasper wrapped his arms around Starling from behind and kissed the edges of her ears. “I don’t know that I’m the world, but I will give you everything I can.”

  “I don’t want everything,” Starling said, turning around in his arms to face him. “I only want you, my shadow.”

  About the Author

  Danica Winters is a bestselling author of more than ten books. She has won multiple awards and is known for writing books that grip readers with their ability to drive emotion through suspense and occasionally a touch of magic. Most recently, Danica was the winner of the 2013 Paranormal Romance Guild’s Book of the Year Award and is currently a finalist in the Chanticleer Book Reviews Paranormal Awards of 2013 for her paranormal romantic suspense novel, Montana Mustangs.

  When she’s not working, she can be found in the wilds of Montana testing her patience while she tries to understand the allure of various crafts (quilting, pottery, and painting are not her thing). She always believes the cup is neither half full nor half empty, but it better be filled with wine.

  More from This Author

  (From Winter Swans by Danica Winters)

  The chapel of the funeral home was filled with familiar faces, each one drawn into a somber expression as they wandered past Harper Cygnini’s sister’s casket. A blonde nymph laid a single crystal swan inside the box, carefully placing the bird by the hundreds of others. The bird sat with its wings touching those of the one next to it, looking as if they would come alive and fly Jenna to the realm of the gods.

  Harper stood at the head of the casket and shook hands as people passed by, never looking her in the eyes. There were no words to express the sadness that filled the room. This didn’t happen. Nymphs rarely died.

  She dabbed at her stinging eyes. She had cried so much in the last week it came as a shock to her there were any tears left to be shed. Her heart wasn’t merely broken — no, the pain ran much deeper — it was almost as if she had died as well. Maybe she should have — the gods knew she deserved to be struck down. If she had just been more involved with her sister, if she had paid more attention, perhaps this would have never happened. She could have stopped her sister from being kidnapped. She would have noticed that Jenna had been missing. Instead Harper had merely gotten the call that Jenna’s body had been found frozen in a snow bank on some mountain.

  The only comfort she could find was that the men responsible had been incarcerated and awaited trial in Montana. They would pay for their atrocious crimes.

  The only man in the room, Beau Morris, sat next to his fiancée, Ariadne Papadakis, the leader of the Sisterhood of Epione. Ariadne, noticing Harper’s gaze, dipped her head in a humble tribute to Jenna. Harper recognized a few of the other women within the room as mustang, snake, and swan-shifters. It was easy to tell them from the non-supernatural attendees as, even in mourning, most nymphs were perfectly beautiful — unscathed by time and the ravages of living.

  The same couldn’t be said of Harper, but she didn’t care. She glanced down at her black dress. She couldn’t remember putting it on or doing her hair, but what did it matter? Even as a demigod life was short and filled with pain. What difference did her appearance really make — it was like so many other unimportant things that both humans and nymphs seemed to deem worthwhile. She couldn’t strike the impious thought that life was only some god’s sick joke — they merely sat up in the heavens playing around with everyone’s lives, striking down those who displeased them and testing to see how much pain those that remained could withstand.

  A hand touched her shoulder, making her jerk to attention.

  “Harper?” a redheaded woman asked. She was beautiful and clearly a nymph, but she didn’t have the same youthful, healthy glow of the others that filled the room. Instead her face was thin and her eyes tired.

  “Yes. Thank you for coming to show your respect,” she answered robotically as she readied herself for more well-deserved but undesired condolences.

  “I’m Carey Jackson, a friend … I mean I was a friend of your sister.”

  The words pierced Harper’s armor and drove straight to her heart. The tears stung her tired eyes. She could only nod, or any control she had would be lost.

  Carey dropped her hand from Harper’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to have to do this to you, but your sister was my landlord and, well, she promised she would help me. And now I don’t have anyone to turn to, except you.”

  Harper looked around, checking to see if what she was hearing was really happening here, at her sister’s funeral. Some of the pain she had been feeling dissipated and was replaced by red-hot anger. “You can’t be serious. You didn’t come here to ask for a favor. You didn’t come to this place … and this time … and want to use my sister’s death to your advantage. No one can be that callous.”

  The redhead stepped back from the onslaught of verbal strikes. “I’m … I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just need help. You don’t understand.”

  Harper’s gaze dropped to Jenna. Her makeup was perfectly applied and her pale face unmoving, as if she had merely fallen asleep. Her brunette hair haloed around her and, even though she lay there in the white metal box, it was still hard to believe she was really gone.

  Carey reached into her purse and pulled out a picture. “I’m looking for this man. I need to find him, it’s important. Please.”

  Harper didn’t know what to say. She knew her anger toward the woman was based mostly in her own grief. The redhead needed help, even if she had made a mistake in approaching her here on this day.

  Carey offered her the picture. Harper looked down at the image — the man was muscular and tan, almost the color of fresh honey. His copper-tinted brown hair framed his face and accentuated his stubble-covered jaw. He was laughing at some secret joke that had been lost in time and only his smile was preserved. She flipped over the picture and scrawled across the back was the name Chance Landon.

  “Look,” she started. “I don’t think I can help … ” She glanced up, but the redhead was gone. The next mourner in line, a petite woman with a sharp beak-like nose, stepped forward.

  “Where … ” Harper looked past the mousy haired woman in front of her in search of the mysterious redhead.

  “Excuse me?” the mousy woman said with an out-of-place smile.

  “Yes, sorry,” Harper said, forcing herself to look at the gray business suit clad woman in front of her. The top button of the woman’s white dress shirt was fastened and there wasn’t a wrinkle to be seen anywhere on her perfectly put together outfit. “Thank you for coming.” The practiced words tumbled from her lips.

  “You are welcome. I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Dr. Redbird. I was the chief medical examiner on your sister’s case.”

  Harper tried to keep the shock from striking her down. So many emotions invaded her all at once. Anger. Pain. Resentment. Thankfulness. “What are you doing here?”

  The woman’s smile flickered and she glanced over her shoulder, like she was looking for some kind of attack. “I just wanted to say how sorry I am for your sister’s death. I thought I would pay my last respects to her family … and your kind.”

  Something about the woman seemed off, but then again everything that was happening in Harper’s life
didn’t seem to fit. She’d never prepared herself to be standing in a room full of acquaintances, mourners, and a favor-asking redhead — especially when they were all there to pay respects to her sister, a woman she had thought would never die.

  To purchase this ebook and learn more about the author, click here.

  Also check out these Danica Winters titles:

  Montana Mustangs

  The Nymph’s Labyrinth

  In the mood for more Crimson Romance?

  Check out Starlaw by Candace Sams at CrimsonRomance.com.