Pushing it open, he fully expected to find a body hanging from the showerhead.
But there was nothing.
Homicide Detective Butch O'Neal had disappeared. Without a trace.
Chapter Fifty-four
Darius looked around himself. The peaceful mist of the Fade had dissolved, revealing a courtyard of white marble. From a fountain in the center, water fell in a twinkling dance, catching the diffused light and sending it back out in flashes. Songbirds called sweetly, as if both welcoming him and announcing his arrival.
So this place actually exists, he thought.
"Good day, Darius, son of Marklon."
He dropped to his knees without turning around and lowered his head. "Scribe Virgin. You honor me with an audience."
She laughed softly. As she stepped in front of him, the hem of her black robes came into his view. The glow spilling out from under the silk was as bright as direct sunlight.
"Darius, how could I refuse? It is the first congregation you have ever asked for." He felt something brush his shoulder, and the hair on the back of his head tingled. "Rise, now. I would see your face."
He got to his feet, towering over the slight figure. He kept his hands clasped in front of him.
"So the Fade is not to your liking, princeps?" she asked. "And you want me to send you back?"
"I humbly tender such a request, if it would not offend. I have waited the required period. I would see my daughter. Just once. If it would not offend."
The Scribe Virgin laughed again. "I must say, you make a better presentation than your king. Quite a way with words that warrior has not."
There was a pause.
He used the time to think of his brothers.
How he missed Wrath. Missed them all.
But the one he wanted to see was Beth.
"She is mated," the Scribe Virgin said abruptly. "Your daughter, she is taken by a worthy male."
He closed his eyes, knowing not to question. Dying to hear. Hoping his Elizabeth would be happy with whatever mate she had chosen.
The Scribe Virgin seemed delighted at his silence. "Look at you, ne'er a query in sight. Such control you have. And for your etiquette, I would tell you what you pine to know. It is to Wrath. Who is ascending. Your daughter is queen."
Darius dropped his head, not wanting to reveal his emotions, not wanting her to see his tears. Perhaps she would think he was weak.
"Oh, princeps," the Scribe Virgin said softly. "Such joy and sadness in your breast. Tell me, the company of your sons in the Fade is not enough to feed your heart?"
"I feel as if I have left her behind."
"She is no longer alone."
"That is good."
There was a pause. "And still you wish to see her?"
He nodded.
The Scribe Virgin moved away, over to the collection of birds that sat, trilling and happy, on a white tree with white blooms.
"What do you wish for, princeps? Are you seeking a visitation? Something quick? In her dreams?"
"If that would not offend." He kept his words formal because she deserved the reverence. And because he hoped it would sway her.
The black robes moved and a glowing hand emerged. One of the birds, a chickadee, hopped onto her finger.
"You were killed in a dishonorable fashion," she said, stroking the tiny bird's chest. "And after having served the race well for centuries. You were an honorable princeps and a fine warrior."
"That my deeds pleased you gives me great reward."
"Indeed." She whistled to the bird. The bird whistled back, as if answering. "What say you, princeps, if I were to offer more than you have asked for?"
Darius's heart beat faster. "I would say yes."
"Without knowing the gift? Or the sacrifice?"
"I trust in you."
"And why could you not be king?" she asked wryly, putting the bird back. She faced him. "Here is what I offer you. Life anew. An intersection with your daughter. A chance to fight once more."
"Scribe Virgin..." He went down to the floor again. "I accept, knowing I do not deserve such favors."
"I will not hold you to that answer. Here is what you will sacrifice. You will have no conscious memory of her. You will not be as you are now. And I require one token of faculty."
He didn't know what the last one was, but he wasn't about to ask.