“Ahh!” She rolled on the sandy ground, all dignity lost as the agony overtook her. “Ahh, you little bitch!”
“Oh!” At the sight of her pain, Lissa’s eyes were abruptly normal again. “Oh dear…I didn’t mean to…to do that. But you can’t talk to me that way.” She knelt to try and help Minverna up but the ex-high priestess shook of her hand.
“Leave me!” Staggering to her feet, she managed to get back inside her room. “Leave me or I swear by all that is unholy—by the Blackness that Eats the Stars—I will end your miserable existence and count the universe blessed to be rid of you.”
They were empty threats and both women knew it. But Lissa nodded her head and withdrew. “Perhaps I was a little hard on you—I will give you a few more days to yourself before you begin your new duties. Think about what I have said.”
“Oh, I’ll think about it, all right.” Minverna slammed the door closed with a booming thud. “I’ll think how best to make you pay you ungrateful little bitch.”
“Bravo! Well played.”
Minverna turned to see the apparition of Draven, who she had completely forgotten about, laughing and clapping with apparent delight.
“You again,” she growled.
“Yes, I never left, as you know. I did enjoy that little scene, although it was rather naughty of you to take my name in vain towards the end there.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Though I rather hope the fact that you invoked it means you’re willing to consider my offer?”
Minverna nodded. Any reservations she’d had before had been burned away by her encounter with Lissa. “What is it you need? And what are you prepared to offer me in return?”
“I need a tiny bit of information about someone who visited First World a few solar months ago—just before you got your shiny new Councilor, I believe.”
Minverna frowned. “We have many pilgrims who visit. Can you be more specific?”
Draven’s apparition made a mournful face. “Alas, the only thing I know is what kind of ship this particular pilgrim was flying. A small, unassuming star-duster.” He cocked his head to one side hopefully. “Ring any bells?”
“Well, no. I—” She frowned. “Wait. I do remember someone flying that sort of ship. He was no ordinary pilgrim, though.”
“Oh no?” Draven made an expansive gesture. “Do, please continue.”
Minverna shrugged. “I don’t know why you care to know, but he was a hybrid—half Beast Kindred and half Blood Kindred.”
“Mmm.” Draven’s silver eyes were bright. “Better and better. Hybrids are exceedingly rare, are they not?”
“I don’t believe there is more than one born a generation. Possibly two.” Minverna frowned. “Which is a good thing.”
“Oh? How so?”
“The male in question was an exceedingly crude specimen, unworthy of my time or attention. Surprisingly enough, however, the Goddess chose to send him a prophesy.”
“Oh, a prophesy. How dreary. Won’t you Kindred ever tire of them?” Draven sighed. “Still, you’d better tell me what it was.”
“Not until you tell me what you’ll give me. What is this ‘once in a life time reward’ you spoke of?”
“Don’t think of it as what I will give you, but what you will give yourself, my dear, by your cooperation. I cannot name it aloud just now but I assure it will be a most enriching experience.” Draven looked at her intently. “The prophesy, if you please?”
“An enriching experience, hmm?” Minverna frowned. She’d gained much from the items she’d exported to the Ganda system but a little more credit to cushion her account couldn’t hurt. “Very well. The prophesy had to do with a female.”
Draven frowned. “A female? What kind of female? What was her significance?”
“None as far as I know. She was destined for him—for this hybrid, I believe.”
“And why should that matter?”
“It doesn’t—not to me.” Minverna sniffed. “But hybrids, as you know, are generally unable to form bonds with females and have offspring. Supposedly this one was to be the exception.”
Draven raised one eyebrow. “So he flew off in his star-duster to look for his true love? How exceedingly prosaic.”
“Not exactly.” Minverna smirked. “Not before I cursed him. This female—this love—will bring him pain beyond imagining and will threaten his very life.”
Draven nodded approvingly. “Turning a blessing into a dire curse—nicely done. I’m not much of a cursing male myself but I do recognize a master at work when I see one.”
“Thank you.” She nodded stiffly. “But I don’t see how knowing any of this will help you.”
“Oh, but it will,” Draven assured her. “Just think—on his own, a hybrid Kindred is a very dangerous creature. A killing machine that won’t stop until the job is done—why, you should hear what he did to the bunch of Trissian pirates who attacked his ship. You know, I wondered what kind of creature was capable of such slaughter…but I digress. The point is, if he’s distracted by hearts and flowers he won’t be watching his back.”
Minverna nodded doubtfully. “I suppose…”
“Suppose? Don’t you see? Love is in the air…but so are pain, treachery, and death. Just my kind of weather.” Draven beamed. “It’s perfect.”
“I’m glad you think so.” Minverna drew herself up. “And now I’d like my reward.”
“Certainly. You’ve earned it.” Draven smiled and nodded at her. “Open your hand.”
Raising her right hand, which had been clenched loosely at her side, Minverna opened her fingers. Lying on her palm was a large rectangular gem as silver as Draven’s strange eyes. She caught her breath at the beauty of it. “A mirror-mere! And such a large one!” It was one of the rarest gems in the universe, harder than a diamond and yet more malleable than gold. She closed her hand greedily around the cool, reflective stone.
Draven laughed. “Quite large enough to keep you in style for the rest of your natural life, my dear Minverna. Are you happy you helped me now?”
She nodded. “I’m quite satisfied with our bargain.”
“I’m so glad.” He nodded. “Unfortunately though, satisfaction is often fleeting.”
“What do you mean?” Minverna frowned.
“Exactly what I said.” The apparition of Draven made a sudden gesture and the mirror-mere jewel suddenly began to elongate in her hand. As Minverna watched, stunned, it doubled in length and one faceted end suddenly became a long, needle sharp blade.
“What…what is it doing?” She tried to drop the mirror-mere, which now looked exactly like a dagger. But she found her fingers wouldn’t unclench from its cool surface. Instead of obeying her and throwing the strange new weapon away, her hand rose and hovered in the air in front of her face. To Minverna’s horror, the tip of the mirror-mere dagger was pointed directly at her right eye. “Stop it!” she sputtered. “Make it stop!”
“Didn’t I tell you it would be a gift you gave to yourself?” Draven’s solid silver eyes had grown as cold and blank as new coins. “Alas it will have to be, as I cannot be with you in person.”
“Wait…stop!” Minverna gasped as the silver dagger began to push itself toward her eye. But her hand and arm refused to obey her.
Draven chuckled coldly. “Don’t fight it, my dear. After all, it’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience—death always is.”
The dagger suddenly accelerated, slicing forward in a silver blur that ended in darkness. Pain exploded as her eye popped. Minverna shrieked but the sound came out oddly muffled.
“Now, now.” Draven chuckled in her ear and she realized the apparition’s ghostly hand was across her mouth. It felt like something dead and rotted pressing against her lips. “Can’t have them finding you before the job is finished,” he murmured. “Well, do go on.” He gestured with the hand not pressed to her mouth and Minverna felt her hand tighten on the cool handle as it prepared to press forward again. Suddenly a familiar feeling flooded her, the feeling of power
she’d been stripped of so recently.
The vision in her one remaining eye went suddenly emerald until everything had a green tinge around it.
Draven, she cried and the voice was not her own.
The chuckling apparition suddenly stopped laughing. “Is that you, Goddess? What do you want? I thought you no longer spoke through this one.”
Even a broken vessel can serve some purpose. I say to you now, Draven of the Hoard, that I know of your desires and you will not succeed.
Draven’s lips curled into a sneer. “You mean you hope I will not succeed. For if I do, there will be no one left to worship you.” He frowned at her. “Besides, have you forgotten the prophesy you yourself placed on me at my creation? That no one—male or female—born of woman could best me?”
I remember that day well. The Goddess’s voice, issuing from Minverna’s mouth, was soft and sad. And how happy I was to have you by my side. We were both happy, my son…until you traded your soul and your wings for damnation and hatred.
“Traded them for freedom, you mean,” Draven scoffed. “Why should I stay with you, always as your second in command, when I could rule my own kingdom?”
A kingdom of darkness and hatred and loathing. A kingdom of evil. The Hoard you have created are no true creatures—they cannot be, for they have no souls.
“They need none,” Draven snapped. “I don’t miss mine at all. It did nothing but fill me with guilt and remorse—it was the instrument you used to control me.”
It is true that those with no souls cannot feel guilt, but they cannot feel love, either. An emotion I give to all my creations in abundance.
“An unnecessary one, I assure you, my dear creator,” Draven said dryly. “One really doesn’t need it to enjoy life—not when there are so many other pleasures to be found in this vast universe.” He grinned. “Such as crushing your enemies beneath your heel and watching them squirm like squashed bugs.”
Do not go so far, Draven. I have loved you as a son, but if you attempt to harm my other children, I will have you destroyed.
“In what way?” Draven scoffed. “I know your restrictions and limitations. The way you must allow your ‘children’ to work out their own problems with hardly any help. How little you are allowed to intercede, especially in large matters. Unfortunately for you, I am not content to reign from afar. I’d much rather be in the thick of things than looking in from the outside.” He grinned. “But then, you already knew that. It’s why I left in the first place.”
So be it. The Goddess’s voice was cold and terrible. I see you are determined it is to be war between us. But remember, Draven…remember how the last war ended. I had hoped you would learn something in your thousand years of isolation, but I see that you have not.
“Oh, I learned something, all right,” Draven spat, his silver eyes flashing. “I learned to loathe you even more. It is not a lesson I will soon forget.”
Farewell, then. I will not try to reason with you again.
The emerald light in Minverna’s one good eye faded leaving a dull, light brown orb in its place. “What…what happened?” she gasped.
“Nothing that concerns you, my dear,” Draven snapped. Really, he was most put out. “Finish!” He made a commanding motion and the ex-high priestess drove the dagger violently into her own brain.
She had an almost comically surprised look on her face when she dropped to the ground, but Draven was not amused. Indeed, even the satisfying scraping sound of the mirror-mere knife tip scratching against the back of her skull couldn’t make him crack a smile. Speaking to the Goddess always put him deep in the doldrums, especially when she tried to remind him of how wonderful things had been before his defection from her oh-so-glorious realm.
Still, there is one thing that always cheers me up, Draven thought. A nice bit of killing and maiming. And if I can just find that Kindred hybrid, I’ll have the perfect person to practice my favorite pastime on…
Thoughtfully, slowly, the once solid apparition turned ghostly and faded from the room, the strange silver eyes disappearing last.
Minverna was left in a lifeless heap, the mirror-mere dagger protruding from one eye socket and a widening puddle of blood cooling around her body.
Chapter Thirteen
Slowly but surely, bit by bit and day by day, Elise was starving to death.
She could feel it happening, could feel the hunger inside her growing stronger, more demanding, but she was helpless to do anything about it.
No matter how much she ate, there was always a gnawing sensation in her stomach, the feeling that she needed to eat more, even when she was full. That was nothing though, a mere symptom of the bigger problem. After throwing up twice, as quietly and privately as she could in the tiny bathroom, she made sure she stopped eating before she got sick, even though she still felt horribly hungry.
Nights were a little bit better because she and Merrick could touch. Not much, though—he still slept by the side of the bed with his hand on the mattress so she could hold it. Elise always started out in the middle of the bed with just their fingers entwined but often she woke in the middle of the night to find her entire body curled around his large, warm hand and muscular forearm. It was almost as though her unconscious body was getting as close to her only source of nourishment as it could when she wasn’t awake to stop it. It was pathetic but Elise couldn’t seem to help it. And she couldn’t risk having Merrick up on the bed with her.
At first it was because of the memories—the ones that threatened to come flooding back, pouring out from under the door of her mental vault like overflowing sewage seeping up from some underground tank. The night she’d awoken to see the huge, black male shadow standing over her bed they had nearly drowned her.
It had come back in tattered flashes—all of her disgusting past she didn’t want to think about or admit. Like a slideshow of horror she couldn’t get away from.
Seeing the shadow in the door, knowing he was there. Knowing what he wanted, what he was determined to get. Buck standing over her protectively, his mismatched eyes—one blue and one gold—glowing in the night, a low growl rising from his shaggy throat. Her sweet Buck, who’d protected her as long as he could…and then…
The vault! Have to keep it in the vault! It had become a constant mantra with her now. The vault door was bulging, the corpses in there were unquiet, demanding in louder and louder voices to be let out. But I can’t let you out, Elise thought desperately. If I let you out I’ll drown!
She thought she knew why the vault door was getting weaker and weaker as the days went by. Part of it was the hunger, which she refused to feed. But the hunger wasn’t the only feeling that was growing inside her. There was something else—that same, strange, heated feeling between her thighs she’d experienced right before Merrick had come for her in the IHOP. But it was also akin to the feeling she’d gotten while sitting on his lap, during the ride back to the Mother Ship, when he’d been explaining what he wanted to do to her—how he wanted to taste her…
Somehow that feeling—that sexual need—was even more frightening than the memories of Buck and the black shadow-man who wanted to hurt her. I’m not like that, Elise told herself over and over. I don’t do those things. Don’t even think about those kinds of things.
But though she tried hard to keep the thoughts out of her head, her body kept responding to the feelings, which she had a much harder time suppressing. Feelings of desire whenever Merrick was near, whenever she smelled his warm, fur and smoke scent, so masculine and so completely desirable. Whenever his arm brushed hers as they passed in the narrow corridor or when he looked into her eyes and she had to turn quickly away, blushing, so that he wouldn’t read the need on her face…
Elise tried telling herself it was just a side effect of their artificial bond, but she knew that wasn’t true—or not completely true, anyway. Somehow her hunger for his touch had mutated into something else—something stronger and harder to deny or ignore. That was why she continued
to ask Merrick to sleep on the floor, the reason she shied away from his touch, and refused to do anything more than hold his hand.
The memory of the black shadow-man had long since been banished to the vault—an uneasy corpse, to be sure, but at least it was no longer loose in her psyche, walking and talking and ready to wake her screaming with nightmares. Elise had it under control—for now.
What she didn’t have under control was herself. And that scared her—scared her almost to death. Because the feelings of sexual want and desire weren’t natural for her. The deep, maddening yearning in her soul to be touched, to be stroked and tasted, to lose control in another’s arms, was wholly foreign—wholly wrong.
I don’t do those things. I’m not that way, whispered a voice in her head—the high, trembling voice of a much younger girl. Of a victim. I don’t want to be that way. I can’t. I won’t.
She knew Merrick had some idea that things were wrong and going wronger by the moment, but still Elise struggled to control and contain her embarrassing problem. After all, she couldn’t tell him she was terminally horny. Even though her pussy was constantly wet and her nipples ached with need, it wasn’t something she was prepared to admit to herself—let alone him.
Still, she saw his nostrils flare sometimes when they were close to each other and wondered if he had other ways of sensing her problem. If he could tell how difficult her life was becoming, how the hunger and its new companion, lust, were tearing her apart inside even as she strove to keep a calm outer façade…
* * * * *
The night before they were supposed to make orbit around Rageron, Merrick decided he couldn’t take it anymore.
He’d been patient and calm and kind and the Goddess knew none of those qualities came easily to him. But he couldn’t sit by and watch Elise die because she was too frightened and proud to take what she needed from him.
He could feel the hunger coming off her in waves. Their bond might be fake but it worked just fine for conveying her needs and emotions to him. Holding hands with her every night wasn’t enough to feed the immense need he felt growing inside her. It was like throwing a starving man a few crumbs of food every day and expecting him to survive—it wasn’t going to happen.
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