Legends of Astræa: Cupid's Arrow Book 1 (Legends of Astræa Series) Read online

  “Now pay attention, my friends, since we don’t have much time.” Émil moved the flashlight onto the next fresco of the upper dome, interrupting my bubbling cauldron of anger.

  The fresco there was the coronation of a maiden in the cosmic heavens. She looked like Our Lady of The Stars. Instantly, I was transported to the night of my birthday, when I dreamed I was among the stars. It couldn’t be. Too coincidental. But then, I paid closer attention and discovered something astounding. The celestial maiden had a heart in her left hand that glowed an aureole of divinity. And from a distant cloud, the hand of God aimed an arrow at her, just like the golden arrow that had glowed inside my chest where my hearts were. I turned my gaze toward my covered chest. It seemed impossible. Questions, truths, many interpretations… and I hated what my gut was trying to tell me, but I wasn’t listening.

  “No. It just can’t be,” I muttered.

  “Astræa is the legend, and so are you, my dear,” Émil said, correcting my disbelief. I gasped and stepped back. No. It just couldn’t be. But then I looked back at the irrefutable and foretelling truth behind this fresco. I was the virgin in the heavens. How could it be? I. Was. Not. Human.

  “It is said she was one of the first immortals to live among humans during the sagacious Bronze Age. Though Astræa was associated with the Greek goddess of justice, she was also associated with Ishtar, the goddess of sexuality, innocence, purity, fertility, and warfare,” Émil recited, then he illuminated the next piece.

  The third fresco was a complex composition of a vignette with two smaller top corner scenes and a larger one in the center. The top left scene portrayed a maiden mourning the death of a man, and in the background was a familiar Fallen Angel, the dark one with golden wings—Ash. The air felt stagnant, and I had stopped breathing altogether. I felt nauseated.

  She held a medallion in her hand. I knew I had seen something like this before, but for the life of me, I could not remember where or even when.

  “What is that in her hand?” I asked Émil.

  “I knew you were going to ask me that.” Émil sighed, defeated.

  “The Sidhe Medallion,” Francis said.

  Fuck. Gavril snarled viciously at the sound of it.

  “Yes, my friend, there are inevitable things, and this is one,” Émil explained to Gavril. Oh my God, Émil knew Gavril was more than a pet. If Émil knew, then Francis… Oh geez, did he?

  The nutcase is right. You should not be here. This whole thing has been a huge mistake. Gavril fidgeted nervously and whinnied.

  The second small scene to the right portrayed the maiden inside a dark cave like the one we were in, except she held the shining powerful medallion. The centerpiece scene portrayed the maiden walking outside the cave hand in hand with a being that resembled the demigod Pan, half animal half human. Underneath their feet lay a mountain of bones and corpses.

  “Astræa, or Ishtar, was said to have crossed into the place of darkness, known as the land of no return, in search of her beloved spouse, Tammuz. Against all rules of nature, she broke the balance between good and evil. Too late, Ishtar realized that she had brought back a demon instead of her beloved spouse, Tammuz.” Émil the Templar recited the story too well. On one hand, it was a relief this was ancient history and not related to me. On the other, I realized this was all about me. Crap.

  The third vignette depicted a different Ash, no angel with golden wings, just his creepy, red hooded cloak and gold mask. He held a chain in his hand connected to a half-naked man’s collar. The man was on his hands and knees like a slave. He bore a strange tattoo or signum, depending if it was a birthmark or not, on his back shoulder that resembled one of those barcodes on a product.

  Émil moved the flashlight to the fourth fresco.

  The last fresco portrayed a battle between thousands of demons and three angels outside a cave. The maiden radiated aural light against the demons as she held the same medallion in her hand The scene was open to many interpretations. Could the medallion be used against demons? I had seen what the golden light had done to those demonic monsters. Could it work against Ash?

  If anyone were to observe the almost religious scene, they would assume that the celestial maiden was vanquishing evil. The medallion could be the answer to my prayers. I was going to find it and vanquish Ash with it.

  “Where is the Sidhe medallion?” I asked them.

  “That, my dear, is the million-dollar question and what many have searched for, for many millennia. Most encountered a tragic end,” Francis forewarned.

  “It is said the medallion was given to Tammuz by the Unseelie King,” Émil explained.

  “Unseelie?”

  “The Strzyga kingdom is one of the last earthly kingdoms of the Dark Court that coexist in the human world,” Émil said.

  “Seriously? Faeries do exist?” I asked them.

  Francis exchanged glances with Émil. “They practically disappeared after the Iron Age. Only their stories are left to us,” Francis said.

  Not exactly true. The Unseelie Court, or Unblessed Court, contains the most malicious, malevolent, and evil of the faeries, a large number of horrible monsters with fearsome abilities that take great pleasure in harming humans. Those ghouls you encountered in the forest, for example, Gavril said, correcting Francis and Émil.

  I gasped at the unwelcome flashback. Are you saying that those demons were faeries?

  Ghouls not faeries. Promise me you will not look for the medallion. Gavril was serious about this.

  This is how I can vanquish Asmodeus, I told him

  This is how you end the world, Gavril warned.

  I rolled my eyes at him. He was such a drama king lately. I was about to retort something sarcastic when a loud distant banging and racketing echoed into the chamber, interrupting us. I exchanged glances with Francis. Then a louder ground rumble shook the floor underneath.

  “Well, our tour has ended. We better get out of here before they cross the second door, and we all end up like fishes in the water,” Émil said. Gavril had been right, Émil had set up those tunnels in a way that if anyone would force their way in would perish at the intent.

  Our special awards points and travel tour of Saint Émilion had officially expired. Émil led us out of the cathedral, as he’d called this chamber, urging us to walk faster by his side.

  We stopped in our tracks, barely reaching the fourth turn out of the tunnels.

  Two monks in blood-red hooded robes held us at gunpoint.

  “Hands up,” the closest one to Émil warned us.

  Chapter 26

  “Primordials.” Émil grunted with distaste. I had no idea who or what primordials were.

  I held the basket with my crossbow, but I didn’t have enough time to prepare before one of them could shoot at us. I wasn’t quite sure if Francis and I were the only ones with guns. Although Émil, the not-so-blind and crazy hermit monk, didn’t present himself as an immediate threat, he would be the direct first casualty.

  The second primordial took aim at me specifically. They both hid their faces under their wide hoods.

  Francis exchanged a minimal glance with me. He shook his face to warn me again. His gaze directed toward the guns. The dim light of Émil’s flashlight allowed us to see the distinctive shapes of their guns.

  Remember what I taught you about guns, Francis said in his mind, knowing I would be listening to him.

  They each held an Italian Benelli Mp 90, a target-shooting professional type of gun designed for rapidfire used by Olympian experts, military snipers, and professional assassins. They could round us in less than two seconds without a miss. They had been hired to kill us, and I was the main target. They were here to leave no one alive.

  The primordial aiming at me slid his hood down. A strange tribal tattoo covered half of his face. He drew a cynical and gleeful grin. I had seen the same type of grin before—Ash. I narrowed my eyes. Somehow, I knew we had the advantage. We were four against two of them. We were not going lights-out
without a good fight first.

  Get ready, Francis said.

  Gavril muttered a growl in agreement.

  Suddenly, Émil shone his flashlight in their eyes. It was unlikely to happen, so this was the opportunity we had to take. Everything happened simultaneously.

  That split second of unseen distraction had Gavril launching himself at the tattooed primordial pointing the gun at me. Gavril had put himself between the gun and myself. I didn’t breathe for what seemed a very long instant, then I realized Gavril had saved my life as he wrestled with the primordial monk on the floor. This small window gave Francis and me the chance to go for our own personal artillery, except we were still short on timing. I acted on instinct rather than thought. There wasn’t any time to examine anything.

  I took the flashlight from Émil’s hand and struck the second primordial, slinging the flashlight at him right when he aimed at Francis who was quickly reaching for him. A shot fired. I turned to see Francis. The shot had missed him. Francis reached for him, disarmed him in a quick ninja maneuver, and twisted his neck. Ugh, I realized the sudden but almost imperceptible sound had disabled the monk permanently. While Gavril maimed the other primordial’s arm, I took the gun from the floor and pointed it at him. The other monk will be dead, my brain seemed to repeat. My hand shook. I had never killed anyone before.

  “Great shooters, terrible hand combat skills,” Émil said.

  Uh, Ailie. Don’t kill him. Give the gun to Francis, Gavril warned me.

  No, I must do this. My hands shook more.

  Well, you shouldn’t. I, for one, will not allow you to tarnish your soul, Gavril said, now protecting the moaning primordial monk. Was he insane? He was going to kill us-me.

  Émil stood in front of the gun with his hand open to me, ending our quarrel.

  “Émil, let her,” Francis commanded.

  I looked Émil in the eye and swallowed hard.

  “NO. You of all people must protect her innocence,” Émil admonished. What? This was all so screwed up.

  A loud booming sound, and the ground under our feet rumbled, and rocks fell from the ceiling, stopping our argument for a second time. The subterranean catacomb was collapsing.

  “Nuckin Futz—RUN,” Émil ordered.

  “What?” I felt somewhat disoriented. I didn’t get what he meant by that.

  If he says run, I believe him, Gavril said, pushing me to move. There was no time, not for arguing or shooting anyone. Even the moaning primordial didn’t argue. We all sprang with apprehension on our feet and followed Émil.

  Then, we heard a loud, dreadful, end-of-the-world-type rumble from underneath our feet coming our way. I dared turning to see behind us, a mistake on my part. There was a bubbly darkness in the far distance approaching fast. I wasted a second or two. I was the last one of the group to react. Francis grabbed my arm and pulled me out of my thunderstruck gaping.

  “Move faster,” Émil warned us, as the rumble became almost a deafening train on its way. We were not going to make it. A wall of water was about to swallow us up.

  Émil reached a set of stairs inside a tunnel and extended his arm to Francis, who held mine as the water almost caught up with us.

  Hurry, Gavril urged me, standing next to Émil.

  I suddenly felt the crazy primordial with the tattoos holding me back from Francis.

  “You are not going anywhere. You are an abomination,” the crazy primordial monk said. He fought me for the gun. Was he daft? Terror seized me. We were about to die.

  I tried to defend myself, but I had Francis pulling me on my right and the primordial holding me hostage on my left, making the task impossible as time ran out. Francis was only one step away from safety. He could make it if I let him go. I let him go. He tried to reach back for me, but Émil held him back against his will.

  “You will kill us both—” My voice drowned with the noise taking over us. I watched Francis’s horror as the water struck us, taking us away. I fought the impacting rush of water, but it was futile. The current was too strong.

  I couldn’t see anything under the deadly cold embrace. It was dark and chaotic everywhere. My first thought was that I was going to drown. Drowning wasn’t how I wanted my life to end.

  Suddenly, we hit a wall. I held onto the little air left in my lungs, as I felt my body slamming against the monk’s, and as he lost his hold, he released me. My garments were heavy, dragging me with the force of the current. The rushing waters took me away in the pitch-dark chilling water. I had no control over the whirling water rapid. I knew then I was going to die, and there was nothing I could do about it. I was scared.

  My head slammed yet another hard surface. I had slammed into a one of those columns holding the catacombs from caving in. I swore I heard the inside of my head crack. It almost knocked me out, but adrenaline must have kept me in a state of alertness. There was nothing I could do except to hold my breath until I could not. That didn’t help me keep calm.

  Francis’s words came to me. People who panic in a crisis are people who die.

  Clear your mind. Calm down, I ordered myself in the midst of chaos. Obeying my commands, I closed my eyes and forced my thoughts to go blank, slowing down my heartrate. A calm came over me.

  My head found enough clarity to understand that the rapid current had pushed me into a small niche behind the column. I found a bit of protection from the direct current. Then, with sudden astonishment, I realized I was not drowning, even though I was still submerged. I held onto the column, wondering how I had survived this far without air. I realized my lungs must had a larger capacity. I took this particular moment to recount my blessings.

  I remembered the weapons under my robes. The impact had taken away the basket with our lunch food, the crossbow, the gun in my hand, and my shoes. All gone except for my hand blade on my leg and I felt relieved it was still there. I carefully shucked my nun’s robes off without breaking loose from the spot I was hanging on to or losing the hand blade strapped to my leg. That was half of the task. I was beginning to feel a tad hypothermic. I needed to move.

  I put my hand blade back on my leg holster and began climbing the column with my bare hands, but the rushing water pulled me back down, hurting them in the process. Crap. It was useless. I panicked—again. Stop. I was going to survive. I focused on surviving instead of feeling helpless or sorry for myself.

  I had learned with Francis about density of a body. I was no different than a cork if I had enough impulse to get out. The current was still strong, but the water height had receded some. It wasn’t much, but there might be enough space to get me to surface. I hoped. I sank farther down until I felt my feet touch the rocks on the floor. There, I bent my knees and pushed upward, hoping to grasp the highest part of the column with enough momentum. I couldn’t see much in the dark as I launched. I prayed the rushing water wouldn’t take me again as I fought the current, moving my feet and using most of my air from the effort.

  At this point I began to feel the intense need for air. Also, I felt the burning on my hands from the porous rock of the column as I continued to push myself upward. I knew they were scratched, but I ignored the burning pain and climbed again and again, desperate to reach the surface. My lungs felt like they were about to explode.

  Suddenly, I felt the chilly air on my hands and face as I reached for the domed ceiling and tried not to choke with water as I breathed again.

  After a couple of choking breaths, I examined how much space was available between the ceiling and the water. No more than a yard at most. Navigating against the current was practically impossible. Had Francis and Gavril survived the wall of water? What if they died? The waters were dark. I had a moment of self-doubt. Crap, I was going to be lost in this dark cold-water labyrinth forever . . . Calm down!

  Ailie, please tell me you are alive. Gavril’s voice inside my head broke in the middle of the strenuous underwater noise around me. He was alive. There was great chance Francis and Émil had survived too.

&
nbsp; I think I will live to kick your butt. I should have finished my job back there. I was scared and pissed off, but in all truth, I was so happy to hear my best friend. It wasn’t really his fault the crazy primordial monk was a hardcore lunatic. I hoped that would teach me never to hesitate again.

  Hum, I think Francis wants to come out there and try to rescue you, Gavril announced.

  I grinned. Good. No. Not good. My grin died. I doubted he could sustain underwater or heal like I did.

  Is he insane? Hold him back. I am on my way back. Right. I tried to wipe a curtain of hair from my face. Crap. My hair was growing fast as a consequence of my body healing the back of my head where I had slammed it.

  Huh. How do you suggest I should hold him without him turning me into steak tartare with his Rambo knife?

  Francis’s life was on the line. Think…

  Anything not involving a knife would be greatly appreciated, he added.

  Shush, I have my own problems here. Do something. Anything. He would die in this cold mess. Hold him! Then my eyes caught clear sight of a bedrock carving above the water. There was a stone footing wide enough for me to travel above the water and below the dome.

  I crawled along it on my hands and knees.

  Gavril gave me a mental grunt. Shit. Hurry, before he juliennes me.

  “I AM OKAY,” I yelled, praying my voice would travel far into the tunnels. And I prayed this would work. It was a long way to travel. Fortunately, there were enough ridges to hold on to.

  “I WILL TRY TO REACH YOU,” Francis yelled back. Ugh.

  “NO. I. Am. On. My. Way,”

  Here we go. The man won’t take your word, Gavril informed me.

  Crap.

  Exactly my thoughts. Hurry, Gavril said.

  I exhaled and shook my head.