Buried Alive Page 2

  The Creature shivered as he took the last turn in the tunnel. He would have thought that Nexanthon’s home would be hot, like the depths of Hell, but no, it was cold—a cold that seeped into the marrow of his bones and made his teeth rattle and his skin turn blue.

  As the Creature entered the cave, Nexanthon looked up from what he held in his hands. “You took your time getting here.”

  The death deity spoke a language so ancient it was lost in the beginnings of time, but the Creature understood. He had made his life a quest for understanding, and his choices had led him here.

  “I’m sorry, My Lord.” The Creature sank to the floor at Nexanthon’s feet, prostrating himself to the being who held death in thrall.

  “I hunger, yet you have brought me nothing.” Nexanthon kicked out with a booted foot and the Creature’s ears rang as the blow sent his body flying backward.

  He landed on his back and didn’t even take a breath before he was up and bent on the ground in front of Nexanthon again. It wouldn’t do to anger the god.

  The blow had been glancing in Nexanthon’s book, not meant to hurt.

  “I am sorry, My Lord. I have sent others to bring sacrifices to you.”

  He had sent out priests. Gods needed worship to gain power, and Nexanthon had been asleep a long time.

  It didn’t mean the god was powerless. No, the god had a lot of power, and the Creature was sure that the world would die in flames for Nexanthon to get more power.

  “You may rise and look upon me.”

  The Creature didn’t want to. He closed his eyes and drew a fortifying breath before he rose to his feet and lifted his chin, opening his eyes as he did so.

  What stood before him was straight out of a Frankenstein nightmare. Nexanthon was a large creature, topping eight feet. His body was made up of a mismatched collection of parts.

  As the Creature looked at his master, he amended his thoughts. No, not Frankenstein, since there were no sutures or bolts.

  Perhaps a better analogy would be that some force had thrown a pile of bodies on the ground so that they shattered into pieces, then picked the parts that were wanted and glued them together haphazardly, and that was how Nexanthon got his form.

  One eye was larger than the other, one blue, the other iris a deep, horrific red. Both of his arms hung longer than they should, but the skin tones were different on each limb. He had a third arm coming from his chest where his breastbone joined, and it tended to wave around as if it had a mind of its own. Even that wasn’t the most sickening thing about the god.

  Some areas of Nexanthon’s skin were jaundiced and some areas looked like they were about to slough off. All of the colors of ethnicity were on his body. Each part was a different color, from a pale Caucasian to a deep African brown. His hair was equally mismatched with all colors and textures. It was as if Nexanthon was everything evil in all parts of humanity. Nexanthon was all that was evil, and it showed in his form because where the pieces of his body joined—and there were many joined pieces—yellow-green puss oozed, and the smell... It was beyond description. The Creature was glad for his strong stomach.

  Nexanthon spoke. “I have a new task for you. This one is paramount. You will not fail. I do not care how long it takes you. You will find what I’m looking for.

  “My Lord—” the Creature began, but Nexanthon cut him off.

  “I am looking for a phoenix.”

  The Creature let out an involuntary gasp. If this was the task that would be given him, he would fail. Phoenixes were extinct, but before the Creature could utter a word, he was slammed with a scent so hard that it pushed him down to his knees, bruising them with the force of his landing.

  Flowers, and heat, like a campfire, intertwined with the wild smell of the ocean. It was a grouping that should cause a stench, but it didn’t. In fact, the scent was so lovely that it was something the Creature clung to amidst the stench coming off Nexanthon.

  “This is the scent of the phoenix that woke me from my slumber. Find her and bring her to me.”

  “I...” The Creature didn’t know where to start looking.

  “This.” Information poured into his brain with such velocity that he groaned and clutched his head between his palms, squeezing it as if it would cut off the flow of information and the pain. It didn’t work. Images blasted his mental eye, making his physical eye water. Did Nexanthon do nothing with a light touch?

  He clamped down on the thought. He didn’t know how far into his mind the god could read, and he didn’t want to die for one critical thought.

  With the images came facts. He knew the last place that Nexanthon had found the phoenix was in a town called Crossroads, CT. He knew the phoenix was young and female and what she looked like. What a beauty—but then immortal women were often beautiful, especially those who were predatory.

  “My Lord,” he hedged, not sure how to ask why Nexanthon couldn’t get a lock on the female and instantly transport her here.

  “She has some kind of shielding. I can no longer find her, which is why I’ve given you this task.” Nexanthon had read his mind and answered his question. That was the only explanation.

  “Do not fail me in this. Or I will end you.”

  I will end you.

  Those words did not offer the blessed kiss of death. No. They offered resurrection. Then death. Then resurrection. Until Nexanthon became tired of his games, and if there was one thing the god did not tire of, it was torture and pain.

  “I will do as you have bid me, Master. I will bring the phoenix female to you.”

  Nexanthon said nothing, merely looking down at the Creature as if trying to decide whether he should skip the task and start the torture.

  Then the world blurred, and the Creature found himself in the warehouse district of Crossroads, CT

  * * * *

  Cool sand crunched under her bare feet as Athera raced down the beach toward the ocean water.

  From behind her she heard Grave calling for her to slow down, but she ignored him.

  The waves were calling to her, pulling her in, making something deep inside of her wake up and demand attention.

  There was an itch in the layer between muscle and skin that she couldn’t deny, and the only thing that would soothe it was the salty ocean.

  Athera knew this like she knew her own name. She didn’t know how, but it was a fact.

  The full moon, bloated and fat, seemed to smirk down at her as she started stripping off her clothes. Her tee-shirt went first, the material feeling constrictive, and then she reached for her bra strap.

  Because she knew he was right behind her, she yelled over her shoulder, “Turn around, Grave.”

  She heard him skid to a stop and assumed he’d turned his back, so she unclasped the bra and pulled it off, her fingers going for the button on her jeans before the bra hit the sand.

  She hobbled as she yanked the pants off and then she was in the water. She gasped as the cold Atlantic waters touched her skin. She dove underneath the moment there was enough depth in the water.

  She broke the surface after a few underwater strokes drew in a deep breath and felt the transformation start.

  It was new to Athera, her body a separate entity with the mind of a dormant predator.

  She wouldn’t call the transformation painful, but it was not a pleasant experience, either.

  Her muscles contracted, then seemed to expand and stretch to the point that she expected to hear the pop-pop of tendons snapping away from bone.

  The first thing she realized when the feeling passed was that she was breathing underwater. She flicked her tail and felt the rush of water over her gills, her body torpedoing forward at a speed she’d never get in human form. Then Athera realized her senses had changed.

  She felt little electrical zaps from her left.

  Wait, isn’t that port?

  Laughing was impossible in her form, but she opened her mouth in a tooth filled grin and saw little fish dart away from her.

&nb
sp; The electrical zap caught her attention again and she knew there was a Great White—natural, not shifter—shark near her.

  Best she avoided that area. As a bull shark, she could take on the Great White and come out tops, and with her human intellect, she’d be far more cunning, but there was no point coming out of this excursion with fresh wounds.

  She swam down toward the reef. She wasn’t hunting. Hunger was not her motivation. She wanted to explore, to feel the water sluicing over her streamline form, to see everything around her. Even though it was dark, she could still see clearly.

  She watched an octopus flow boneless out of a crevice and snatch up unsuspecting prey. She watched the plants and the fish in the reef interact, ignoring her presence as if she was some floating sign board, there but not there.

  All the while, her extra senses were feeding her information about her environment. If she had these senses in human form, she’d never be taken by surprise.

  Humans thought sharks were a dangerous nuisance, but they were living works of art, sleek and super sensed. Humans had no right to feel superior to sharks.

  In her current form, with her usually dormant beast half in control, Athera was superior to any human, and her teeth ached to take a bite out of one to prove it.

  * * * *

  Grave glanced over to ask Josy, “What is taking her so long?”

  The witch sat on the sand, her knees pulled up, her toes digging into the damp sand at the waterline. Her arms were wrapped around her knees and she stared out at the waves, her dark hair blowing in the breeze. She was a pretty picture, but Grave was too worried to pay much attention. His mind was on Athera. He wanted to know where she was and how long she’d been gone.

  He stared out at the water and waited, the intensity of his concentration absolute, as if he could make her appear by sheer willpower alone.

  He had no doubt that his will was strong. He’d proved it to himself earlier when he’d actually turned around when Athera had asked him to.

  Grave hadn’t wanted to, but he’d turned just before she’d unclasped that wispy piece of lace that had covered her breasts. Gods, what will power that had taken. His body was still screaming from the damage that image had done, his cock a fucking steel pipe in his too-tight jeans.

  How was he going to survive this assignment without giving in? He’d come close too often already, and his lauded willpower was a joke when it came to kissing Athera.

  “It’s going to take her as long as it takes her,” Josy said.

  It took Grave a moment to realize she was answering his question. He’d gotten so distracted in the turmoil of his thoughts he’d forgotten he’d asked her one at all.

  “Sit down, Grave. She won’t get back faster because you are standing.”

  Josy patted the sand next to her and Grave glanced down. He looked up again, taking another look out to sea before he sat next to Josy.

  Athera’s piles of clothes were folded neatly between them. Josy had collected all the articles and done the folding before she sat down.

  “Did she tell you what her animal form is?” he asked.

  Josy shook her head. “No.”

  Damn, he was curious. Not normally one of his failings, but with Athera, nothing seemed to be right with him.

  Perhaps he should go to the reaper realm while he was waiting for Athera to come back. Recharge his proverbial batteries a bit

  Who was he kidding? There was no way he’d be able to relax enough to absorb any of the reaper energy while he was worrying about Athera.

  If only he knew what she was when she took animal form, because she could be a seal or an otter or a dolphin. A shark could be stalking her at this very moment.

  Grave shot to his feet, his hands fisting the neck of his tee-shirt as he pulled it up and over his head.

  Josy was looking up at him, with frown lines between her eyes. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going in,” he answered.

  “Duh.” Josy rolled her eyes, then averted them as Grave reached for the button on his jeans.

  “Why are you going into the water?” she asked as she made a point of looking away from him down the beach.

  “I have to know she’s safe.” He pulled off his jeans and walked to the water in his black tight trunks.

  Josy got to her feet. “Don’t be a moron. She’s safer in the water than you are.”

  “Stay here and wait, I’ll be back when I find her.”

  “Idiot!”

  Grave grinned because she actually stamped her foot on the stand to emphasize what she thought of his intellect.

  He took a few big strides to get past the breakers, then dove into the icy Atlantic waters. He came up spluttering from the shock of the cold, but his body soon warmed up as he used breast strokes to get deeper.

  He filled his lungs with air and dove again. The water was as clear as it could be in the dark, the full moon helping to illuminate it a bit.

  The only question now was... How was he going to find Athera in an ocean full of sea creatures when he didn’t even know what she was?

  Chapter Three

  Grave was in the water. Athera could sense his heartbeat. She could feel the electrical discharge of his body, and even though she couldn’t explain how she knew it was Grave, she knew it.

  She angled her body, banking her sleek form to swim toward him. A twitch of her tail and oxygen rich water rushed past her gills, invigorating her. She swam through a school of brightly colored reef fish, and it delighted her as they darted away. Little arrows of color in the gloom. It was akin to holding a bunch of flowers in her human hands.

  He was quite far away. She must have traveled further from the beach than she realized. There was no way she could move as fast in human form. Her shark body was designed for sleek speed.

  In comparison, her human form was slow and clumsy. She was still processing the difference. It was like she had to learn to walk—or in this case, swim—all over again.

  Athera was getting closer to him; she could smell him in the water. To her shark senses, he smelled interesting. To her, he smelled divine. Male, dark and exotic, with an element of wildness that strangely made her feel safe.

  There!

  She saw him as he dived under the water, his back to her, his body moving with grace. He wasn’t wearing much, and the human in her took a moment to appreciate all the muscular glory of his form. Wow, he was built like a masterpiece.

  Strong and lithe, muscled without being overly bulky.

  His wasn’t looking in her direction, his body angling down and away from her as he dived.

  Athera wanted to touch him, wanted to get close and swim with him.

  A flick of her tail and she was next to him, her body brushing against his.

  His reaction was so fast she didn’t have time to process it.

  Grave pulled up from his dive and turned. Those deadly scythes appeared in his hands before he’d finished the motion.

  He scissor-kicked and attacked.

  * * * *

  Fuck!

  He was being attacked by a shark. Grave twisted and called his scythes as he tried to see what kind of shark was doing the attacking.

  Not that it mattered. Jaws was frigging Jaws, and the creature wanted him for a snack.

  He turned enough to see the dead doll eyes of a bull shark. A damn Zambezi. They were some of the most aggressive on the planet, and Athera was somewhere in this water. No way in hell would he let this shark make a meal out of him or the phoenix. He was going to take it out now.

  Grave ignored the burning on the skin on his arm where the shark had brushed up against him. He lunged, using his legs to propel himself forward and swung the scythe.

  It wasn’t much of a blow. The water felt thick and viscous and he couldn’t get much strength behind it, but the scythe bit into the shark. Not deeply, but enough to get through that tough sandpaper like skin.

  Grave kicked his legs, shooting backward away from the shark. He
didn’t want to be in the way of those teeth when the pain of its wound registered.

  Shock registered on the shark’s features, and Grave was amazed. How did a creature like a shark have expressions? They were notorious for their lack of expression, but he could have sworn he saw the shark’s eyes widen for a moment.

  The water seemed to warm against his skin and Grave frowned. How was that possible? It was the Atlantic Ocean, so it was supposed to be cold water. The momentary distraction made him nearly miss it.

  The shark went up in flames.

  What the fuck!

  The water sizzled around the creature and formed an underwater fireball.

  A dark realization started to dawn on Grave.

  It wasn’t a shark. It was Athera, and he’d attacked her. Oh, gods, Josy was right. He was an idiot and a moron.

  By now, the lack of oxygen was becoming a desperate thing for him and he couldn’t afford to gray or black out so he darted to the surface, sucked in some air and dove down as fast as he could again.

  The fireball had started to dissipate and as it cleared, he could see Athera’s naked form. He expected her to swim to the surface and yell at him for being a stupid ass, but she didn’t.

  Her body started to sink down into the depths of the ocean.

  She was unconscious.

  Grave kicked, propelling his body forward as fast as he could. He knew he’d get burns on his skin from the heat of the water around Athera, but he didn’t care.

  All that mattered was getting the phoenix to the surface so she could breathe.

  Blood floated in a dark mass around her in the dark, almost obscuring her.

  How badly had he wounded her?

  His arms closed around her and her skin still felt warm from her flames.

  He propelled them to the surface and sucked in a breath of air.

  “Athera.” He looked down at her face. Was she breathing?

  No.

  “Athera.” He gave her a little shake. Nothing.