by Jake Stone
“And now we must kill it,” Petronelous says. “Before it can escape.”
“Yes,” the beshai agrees. He quickly pours himself a glass of Cranish, his hand trembling as he handles the almost empty bottle, and throws it back, grimacing as the hot liquid burns down his throat. “How soon can you be ready?”
“Within the hour,” Atia says.
Her eyes are stained with streaks of red. She’s exhausted. But you wouldn’t be able to tell that from the fire in her voice.
“Good,” the beshai says. “Take Xander with you. You’ll need him.”
“Why?” I ask. “Why should I go now?”
“Because you’re the only one who can detect the demon,” he replies. “We need you.”
“And what about what I need?”
“That’ll have to wait.”
I’m about to tell him to fuck off, when the doors to his chamber bursts open and the gaideck with his men come marching in. They surround us in a half-circle, their spears drawn, Eligor standing at the front.
“What’s the meaning of this?” the beshai demands.
“I should be asking you the same question,” the gaideck replies. “Authorizing a high-level operation in the Frontier without the consent of the church? It was only a few hours ago that my own nephew informed me of your little adventure.”
“He knew well what our intention was,” Atia accuses.
“I was misled,” Eligor responds.
“By your own ambition,” Atia shoots back. “You could’ve warned his Holiness at any time, yet you chose to wait until we were gone, when it was too late to stop us and the only recourse left was to have us be punished.”
“What a surprise,” Eligor says. “A Purifier placing the blame on the Palace. Oh come now, Atia, I expected more from you.”
“Yes,” the gaideck says. “Tell me, Captain, where are the rest of your Purifiers? Surely you’ve brought them all back.”
“They’re dead,” Atia says wearily, her gaze lowering to the floor.
“And the vehicles?” Eligor asks.
“Gone,” Atia replies. “All but one.”
Eligor laughs. This is a sweet victory for him. But his amusement isn’t shared by his uncle.
“What must I do now?” the gaideck says.
“If anyone is to be punished it is me,” the beshai says quickly.
“And so you shall,” the gaideck says. “As of this moment, you are stripped of your position and sentenced to serve out your penance with the rest of the sinners in the poorer districts.”
“A privilege I shall cherish,” the beshai says.
“Do not test me, Tulgas,” the gaideck warns. “You’ve already pushed me to my limits. Do not push me further.”
“Your holiness,” Atia says, stepping forward with a bowed head. “If you’ll allow me to speak.”
“Why?” he asks, his brow furrowed. “Why should I allow someone who has continually lied to me to speak? And after all the leniency I’ve shown you in the past?” He snorts. “And to think, I actually thought you could restore the Frontier to its former glory. But now you’ve proven me the fool. And for what? Chasing demons?”
“I have the proof,” she protests.
“What proof?” the gaideck asks. “More white jackets? More hearsay from radical zealots?”
“No,” Atia says. “This.”
The gaideck’s eyes narrow as Atia holds up the necklace for all to see. She’s defiant in her gesture, and I can tell the satisfaction she draws from the moment by the smugness of her face.
It takes the gaideck a few seconds to realize that she’s holding the beloved queen’s necklace, but when he does, the stoniness of his features melt away, leaving a look of pure astonishment.
“How can this be?” he whispers.
“We found it at a slave auction,” Atia reveals. “Lying amidst a chest of jewels. Luckily, I was able to steal it before we escaped. And now it is here, with us.”
“Thank the heavens,” the gaideck says, carefully taking the necklace away.
By the adoration in his eyes, I’m expecting the old man to start crying. This is an ancient heirloom, a priceless artifact from a time of great sacrifice. I wouldn’t blame him. But he doesn’t. Instead, whatever anger or doubt or frustration he once showed disappears in a blinding flash, replaced by a look of heartache, like a man who’s just learned that his long-lost child has returned.
“Where is it?” the gaideck asks, his eyes veering toward the corner.
“Where is what?” Eligor asks.
“The demon!” the gaideck yells. “Where is it?”
Eligor shudders at his uncle’s voice, and he lowers his gaze, ashamed by the public scolding.
“Before we left this morning, I took two tracking devices with me, just in case,” Atia reveals. “When I stole the necklace, I inserted one of them into the frame of the chest. We should be able to pick it up where ever it is.”
“Good,” the gaideck says, nodding. “Very good.”
“Should we notify the Republic?” the beshai asks.
“No, of course not,” the gaideck replies. “The last thing we need is their involvement. If they come, it’ll be the end of us. Better to find the demon and root it out beforehand. As my grandfather always said; never introduce the problem; only the solution.”
“Very well, your Holiness,” Atia says with a bowed head. “When can I lead my troops?”
“Never,” he says.
“What?” she asks in shock. “But I don’t understand.”
“I’m entrusting the mission to my nephew, Eligor. He will lead the palace guard, soldiers whose first loyalty is to myself and the church.”
“Uncle…” Eligor says in surprise. He drops to a knee and bows his head in gratitude. “I will not fail you,” he promises.
“See that you don’t,” the gaideck says.
Atia’s head nearly spins off her head as she looks to Eligor. “Him?” she asks. “The first demon to appear on this planet in five-hundred years, and you want him to handle it?”
Eligor raises his chin in defiance.
“The Palace guard doesn’t even venture out of the palace,” Atia says.
“An aspect that is about to change,” the gaideck replies. “My nephew has shown great progress over these last months. I believe he’s more than qualified to lead this little mission.”
“But Demetrius—” Tulgas begins.
“The church has spoken,” the gaideck says. “If anyone wishes to quarrel with it, may he speak to heaven itself.”
“Of course.” Tulgas concedes with a bow.
Everyone in the room quickly follows his example, bowing their heads in prostration to the holy man. Only I remain standing, refusing to look away from the wretched old man. After a while, the gaideck’s eyes narrow.
“What are we to do with him?” Eligor asks, motioning to me.
“Arrest him,” the gaideck says.
“On what charges?” I ask.
“On the grounds of heresy and treason. Candatoria was obviously negligent in her interrogation of you, an error she will not repeat again.”
“But tomorrow is the anniversary,” the beshai points out. “A holy day that should be respected with peace. Besides, we need him.”
“For what?” the gaideck asks.
“We believe he has information that can help us find the demon,” Atia replies.
The Gaideck examines me for a moment, his lips twisting to the side as he determines my fate. “Very well,” he says. “Take him with you. But once the mission is over, I want him in chains. The church will not be made a fool of anymore. Enjoy this last trip, off-worlder, for it will be your last.”
And with that, he leaves the chamber, taking the entirety of his men with him.
We linger in silence, each of us devastated in our own way by the gaideck’s decree. They’re going to lock me up again? With Candatoria? I rest my head in my hands, wondering how life is going to be without my eyesight.
How can this get any worse?
“There’s nothing we can do?” Petronelous asks, breaking the silence.
“Not if you want to go against the church,” Atia says, already resigned to her fate. She’s a soldier, her duty the most important thing to her.
“I’m not going,” I finally say.
“What are you talking about?” Atia asks.
“The mission. This,” I say, gesturing to the chamber. “I can’t. I have to find Rachel. She’s still out there. And I’m all that she has left. Besides, I kind of like being able to see and that crazy bitch, Candatoria, wants to burn my eyes out of my head.”
“But you made a promise,” Atia says.
“If you helped me save Rachel,” I remind her. “But you haven’t.”
“Sexy has a point,” Zorel says, frowning as she peaks into one of Tulgas’ empty bottles of cranish.
“This is ridiculous,” Atia says.
“I’ll tell you what’s ridiculous,” I say. “You serving a bunch of men who are just as dirty as the criminals you kill.”
“And what would you have us do?” Atia asks. “Accuse them?”
“Yes!” I say. “Bring the matter into the light!”
She throws her head back in frustration and crosses her arms. “It would take years for the church to hold an interrogation,” she says. “Time that the clergy would use to buy their innocence. We’re better off focusing our efforts on eradicating actual evil, like this demon.”
“How convenient,” I say. “The one thing that’ll give you a second chance at becoming a Battle Saint is the exact same thing you need us to help you do.”
“I could do more good up there than down here,” she shoots back.
“But what about the oath?” I ask. “To protect the weak and guard the Frontier? Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“My days of sacrifice are gone,” she says. “Now, I must do what I can to advance myself so that I can finally do some real good.”
“Good luck doing it alone,” I say.
She draws her sidearm. “If you try to leave, I’ll have no choice but to kill you.”
“After everything you saw?” I ask. “After everything you know about your superiors, you’d still do this?”
It’s in that moment, as I see the pale guilt on Atia’s face, that I realize the truth. “You’ve known about this all along, haven’t you?” I say. “You knew about the hypocrisy, the slavery, the corruption, and yet you did nothing.”
“The demon’s our only concern,” Atia says. “Nothing else matters. Now, return to your chambers, where you’ll be watched for the rest of the night.”
“I’ll take him,” Petronelous volunteers.
“No,” Zorel says. “I’ll go.”
“No,” Atia says to the both of them. She turns to Chun Hei who’s been watching me silently from the corner and signs her a lengthy command. “Chun Hei will take you. I don’t want you trying to sweet-talk your way out of this.”
The walk to my room is a long one. We climb up flights of stairs, past empty chambers, ignoring the high-ceilinged murals, majestic paintings and immaculate sculptures that meet us at every turn.
Chun Hei trails behind me, her sidearm raised to my back. Whatever camaraderie I thought we’d once shared during our mission has apparently vanished. Now, I’m just her prisoner.
As we reach a long hallway decorated with large framed paintings and lush red carpet, I begin to despair over my fate. What’s left for me? Blindness?
I can’t let that happen. I need to do something. But what? The entire palace is crawling with guards, and Atia has decreed that if I don’t go with them, she’ll kill me. Whether or not that’s true, I’ve seen enough people killed over the last couple of days to know not to press my luck.
When we reach my room, I open the door to find it already prepared. Oil lamps hanging from the ceiling burn softly with tiny flames, while a cool breeze blows in from the desert through the opened balcony. It’s nice. But not enough to calm my concerns.
Chun Hei closes the door behind us.
I spin around to look at her. “Wait, what are you…”
She faces me, her pistol still in hand, her purple eyes piercing through the darkness as she studies me, catlike. My first thought is that she’s going to kill me. But when she lowers her weapon and holsters it on her belt, I realize there’s something else on her mind.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
She raises a hand to silence me. Then, using two fingers, she points at her eyes, then at me. The message is clear: she’s going to watch me.
“From inside my room?”
She nods.
Great. Even in privacy, I’m still being watched. “Fine,” I say. “I’ll take the floor.”
Walking away, I rub my face, suddenly aware of how tired I am. It must be close to morning by now, and the sun’s going to be coming up soon. I won’t have that much time to figure out what I’m going to do, how I’m going to get out of all this.
I’m already kneeling to the ground to sleep when I feel a hand on my shoulder. The grip tightens, and I’m suddenly being led back to the bed.
“No,” I say, wagging my finger at her. “I’ll take the floor. It’s fine. You really don’t—”
But she’s strong, and apparently, unwilling to accept my refusal. I stumble back against the bed, watching as she stands before me. She’s stunning in her stance. Long black hair raised above her head. High, round cheeks. Pouty lips. She unlocks the clasp around her neck, and her cloak drops from her shoulders, falling around her feet.
By now, I’m freaking out. What the hell’s going on here? What’s she doing? But she’s so damned gorgeous, I can’t help but stare at her beauty. She pushes me back against the bed, forcing me onto my back, but I quickly sit up, propping myself up on my elbows.
Piece-by-piece she begins to remove her armor, stripping down to just her white bodysuit. Her body is amazing. She might not be as tall as the other girls. But she’s got long, athletic legs, curvy hips and a pair of narrow shoulders, that make her D-cups pop out. Incredible.
“What are you doing?” I ask again.
But she ignores me, seeming not to care. I have to admit, it’s pretty hot.
Cupping my chin, she raises my gaze from her breasts to her face. Our eyes lock. It’s then that she motions to the inside of her left forearm, and I see the tattoo of a snake writhing across her skin.
It’s the same one that Rachel had, the same one that the slave girl we saved had. And then it hits me. Why she never trusted me, why she’s been so guarded, why she was so adamant about coming with us into the auction. She, herself, was a slave.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
She places a finger to my lips, shutting me up in an instant, then shakes her head as though my pity is not welcomed. She’s not a victim. Not this one. She’s fought back against her pain and came out the other side whole, or as whole as any of us can ever be in this life.
“You killed a fuck-load of those assholes last night, huh?”
She blushes, her gaze lowering to the floor.
“Good,” I say. “I wish you could’ve killed them all.”
I watch her for a while, unable to ignore the curves of her body. We’re so close now, she might as well be straddling me.
It’s then that she musters the courage to look at me, her gaze following mine as I shamelessly take in her shapely hips and impressive breasts.
“I’m sorry, it’s just—”
Before I can finish, she presses her lips against mine, her warm hot tongue slipping into my mouth. Fuck it feels good.
The sensation is overwhelming, and my urgency to push her away dissipates as my lust for her begins to rise. My hands slide down the length of her back, relishing the smoothness of her tight suit.
Before I know it, their sliding over the curves of her hips and then across her ass. She gasps into my mouth, as I begin to squeeze. Her entire body is sensitiv
e, as if she’s new to the feeling, or better yet, has forgotten how it feels.
I need to be gentle, slow.
I pull my mouth from hers, checking her expression to see if she’s okay. Her eyes are closed, and her lips are parted, her breathing deep and steady. She’s into it.
I move my mouth down her neck and over the warm skin of her chest, calming her with tender, soft kisses. I need to let her know that I’m not going to hurt her, that she’s safe in my arms. In response, she begins to grind her crotch against mine, making my cock hard.
I reach to unzip her suit, pulling the zipper down slowly to the top of her ass, then gently sliding the cloth down over her shoulders so I can see her round tits. I shove one into my mouth, my tongue circling around the nipple, as my hand digs into the back of her suit. I slip a finger down the crack of her ass and she quickly claws my hair, seemingly ready to explode from the sensation.
Without wasting any more time, I yank the rest of her suit down to her ankles, leaving her completely naked, and heft her up onto the dresser behind her. She quickly spreads her legs, begging me to sink my hard cock into her tight pussy as I hurry to unzip my pants. Her pussy is beautifully trimmed, and her clit is rising deliciously over a pair of parted lips dripping with cum. It’s one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen before.
Fuck she looks good!
By now my cock is like steel, and my heart is pounding like a motherfucker. She parts her legs even farther now, her suit hanging around the ankles of her boots, as her hand reaches behind my waist. Her pussy takes my cock with one thrust, her mouth falling agape as her brow creases together in overwhelming pleasure.
It's tight and warm and wet. This is heaven.
Holding her in place, I begin to thrust my hips, fucking her in building waves that result in the clumsy sound of shelves banging. She can’t hear it. But I can, so I slow down.
I’m trying to be gentle, so I hold back the instinct to grip her tits, and instead, kiss her softly on the neck. I guess it works because, after a while, she begins to pull herself up, rising to meet my thrusts.
Soon, we’re working together in tandem. We grip each other as if our lives are depending on it, thrust after thrust, banging as hard as we can, desperate for the relief we’ve sought after since our escape.
