Vendel Rising Omnibus

by L A Warren

  She buried those she loved. Outside, the city might be desolate. She was too tired to find out if it was as bad out there as it had been within her home. There was no movement. No people. No dogs barking. Not that she would hear them. Comwell Estate was too remote, but she would need to explore beyond the gates.

  She would face the isolation of her world tomorrow.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tuesday morning, February 8, 2035:

  Elise forced herself out of bed by noon. Lying around accomplished nothing; there were things to do. The internet still broadcasted, but it delivered no new content. The entire world had gone silent. Fortunately, Comwell Estate had been built for self-sufficiency. She had wind, solar, and a deep geo-thermal well, not to mention a self-contained power plant. But it wouldn't last a lifetime. For that, she'd have to make it to the island, to the place she hoped Tom had escaped with the girls. If he’d made it there in time.

  She had no idea how much fuel the power plant held, but when that ran out, she'd be reliant on wind and solar. In that, she felt comfort. Wind and solar would keep her comfortable until she was certain she wasn’t contagious, then she would venture to the airfield and see about flying to the island.

  There were other issues to deal with. Survivors provided more of a threat than anything else. Looting by people bigger, stronger, and better armed than her was her biggest fear. Down in the basement, she opened the vault. As an avid hunter, her grandfather had taught her the basics of how to handle a weapon. She wasn't good, but she had time to learn. She took stock of her assets.

  Shelter: check.

  Food: check. A quick inventory showed more than a year’s worth of supplies. More than she cared about right now.

  Water: check. There was a spring on the property. She counted this as limitless.

  Power: check. Too tired to look at her fuel supplies. That could wait.

  Protection: double check. Gramps kept an arsenal, and she had an active surveillance system.

  Time to leave the safety of the estate and see how bad it was outside the gates. If there were other survivors, she would need their help… if they were friendly. Before that though, she double-checked the defenses for the grounds. The surveillance system functioned flawlessly. She locked all the house doors and set the intrusion alarms.

  Thirty minutes later, she stowed an over and under shotgun on the dash of the car within easy reach. She strapped a pistol to her side, loaded, safety on. Her grandfather's side-by-side went in the passenger seat. And she had two back up pistols, one in her lap and the other nestled beside the side-by-side.

  With a deep, trembling breath, Elise powered up the car. When it asked if she wanted to run the autopilot or drive in manual, she had a moment of indecision. While it would be easier to scout if she wasn't driving, her nerves hummed with restless energy to do something.

  She thumbed off the autopilot and gripped the steering controls in her hands.

  It was time to see what laid beyond the gates of the expansive Comwell Estate.

  Elise's fingers ached from gripping the steering wheel. It'd been five minutes since she exited and locked the wrought-iron gates of the estate. Still another ten minutes before leaving the long winding road that circled down the hills. Usually Mark drove, and despite teaching her how, she still felt uncomfortable behind the wheel, preferring to let the autopilot take control. Her grandfather commuted via helicopter. She never learned to fly a helicopter and regretted that now.

  As it was, she was stuck with the car. Depending on what she discovered, she might drive out to the airfield. She could cover more ground in her stunt plane than she could by car. There was the problem of refueling. Shit. Considering how hard it had been figuring out the backhoe, what problems would she run into refueling an aircraft?

  The winding road emptied into a narrow two-lane highway. She stopped. It was so quiet. Her chest vibrated with unease as her shoulders inched up to her ears. She checked her mirrors twice and her doors were locked.

  Thankful for her grandfather's insistence on fortifying all their cars with bullet proof glass, she felt secure heading out. The car wasn't a tank, but nothing would get to her unless she opened the door. She navigated the tight turns heading down the ridge. When gaps in the trees occurred, she peered down at the city below.

  The first abandoned car appeared when the narrow road dumped into a four-lane commuter highway headed to town. She slowed, curious about the vehicle sitting on the side of the road, wondering what had happened.

  She pulled behind it. After making certain no one was around, she opened the door of her car. Her pistol shook in her hand.

  "Hello," she called out. Her eyes narrowed as she spied a person in the car. "Hello?" Her voice croaked, sounding weak and unsure to her ears. She kept her pistol held in front, angled down, as she approached.

  A little firmer, she raised her voice. "Hello?"

  No response.

  She moved up the side of the car, hopeful, but expecting the worst. A person sat in the driver's seat, but no one alive sat that still.

  Blood sprayed across the front windshield. The seatbelt held the body upright. There were no other passengers. She slumped against the side of the car, her gaze flicking up into the brilliant blue sky.

  A mile down the road, she came across the first wreck. Nearing town, the number of wrecks outnumbered the cars pulled off the side. Who’d been luckier? Those who died from the plague, or those who died in the crashes?

  The lump in her gut grew heavy. Bodies filled the street in addition to the cars. Her mind created a grisly scene, her imagination filling in the gaps. A man in front of her opening the door of his car, coughing and sputtering blood, dying before he could climb out. To the left, a mother running with her children, dodging cars as they crashed around her, until she was struck down, her children flung from her arms. Over there, a trucker, one boot tangled in a rung of the ladder when he'd fallen out of his cab. The worst had to be the bus full of children. Those inside were dead. Outside, a string of small bodies led away into the grass at the side of the road.

  Her stomach clenched as bile rose in her throat. Tears, so many tears, streamed down her face. Wrecks choked the streets, and the dead were everywhere. She had no choice but to turn around.

  The metal gates swung closed behind her as she allowed the autopilot to carry her home. A watery veil of endless tears blinded her to the gathering storm clouds overhead. She forced herself out of the car and made it to the door of the mansion before the first drops fell.

  She stood there for many long moments and lifted her fist as the first peals of thunder sounded all around.

  "What have you done?" Her cries sounded pitiful and frail against the gathering storm.

  Somewhere up there, the Vendel orbited in space. They had done this. They had destroyed her world.

  But even worse than her tears, was the rising desire she felt when her thoughts turned to the Vendel Emperor. The skin at her wrist burned and her vision swirled with multicolored lights. Shame burned in her veins. How could she desire a monster? A glance at her wrist had another more concerning question blooming in her mind. What had they done to her?

  Chapter Twelve

  Wednesday, February 9, 2035:

  Elise sat in the parlor reading one of her grandfather's books. Her body was weak from not eating, but her appetite was nowhere to be found. A deep listlessness sunk deep into her bones as she wondered about her future.

  Were there other survivors?

  She had tried venturing out again, heading in the other direction. Once again, devastation forced her back to the estate. She was a prisoner, unless she attempted walking to the airfield, but then there was the issue of how to fuel up her plane. Was the runway even clear for takeoff?

  The internet console flicked to life. Blip!

  Her head swiveled.

  Blip-blip.

  She bolted from her seat, hands shaking to adjust the controls.

  "Hello? Is anyone ou
t there?" Her voice cracked.

  Silence. She leaned toward the console, panting with the need for human contact.

  A female voice called out in a foreign language. "Ist da jemand?"

  German? She fiddled with the controls and instituted a translation subroutine. Is anyone there?

  Her heart leapt into her throat. "My name is Elise."

  "Ist da jemand," repeated the voice in a different inflection. The voice was live.

  Elise jumped with excitement. She responded, but the woman's voice faded. Whoever it was didn't understand or couldn't hear her reply. She recorded her greeting and had it translated into German.

  Nothing.

  She screamed her frustration as she struggled to be heard. For two painful hours, the voice kept reaching out, rising in desperation. Nothing Elise did elicited a response.

  But, there was another survivor.

  She wasn't alone.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sunday morning, February 13, 2035:

  Elise gazed out the front bay window. The sun rained down cheery brilliance, bathing the garden in bright light, but like her hope, that too would fade. Storm clouds were rolling in. Four days ago, she had heard the woman's voice through the console, but nothing since.

  In her lap, one of Gramps's romance novels laid open and forgotten. She pulled her knees to her chest and sat back on the couch. Her eyes were dry, devoid of tears. With a deep sigh, she extricated herself from her melancholy. Her stomach rumbled, but she wasn't interested in eating. Ten in the morning, it was past time for breakfast. She had to force herself to eat, telling herself good nutrition was the key to survival. Instead, she walked out the front door and into the sunlight. The comfort of its warmth helped a little. Inside, she was so bitterly cold.

  A gentle breeze blew across her skin, relaxing her mind. It felt like any of the countless days before it, bright, blue, and beautiful with a hint of chill. Her gaze turned skyward, seeing nothing but the clouds rolling in, coming to block the sun.

  The world might be dead, but she was alive. The estate could sustain her, but eventually she'd have to move on. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not even for months to come. Before next winter, she decided. Staying put forever wasn't an option. Before the food ran out, she needed a plan. The rumbling protestation of her stomach forced her back inside.

  Food.

  Gramps always enjoyed eggs and bacon, but she didn't have the energy to mess with that. Instead, she pulled out a packet of instant oatmeal. She combined water and oat flakes, mushed it around, then shoved a spoonful of the paste into her mouth. It would do.

  A red light flashed on the corner security monitor. The sensors showed an intruder in the entry foyer. Her breath caught. She'd locked the doors. How'd they get in? How'd they get through the gates without the outer perimeter alarms going off?

  She placed the bowl on the counter and crossed the kitchen to grab the pistol she kept close at all times. Then she opened the drawer to retrieve a Taser.

  Flee or fight?

  One deep breath, one step forward. She crept out of the kitchen to investigate.

  Male voices sounded from down the hall.

  "Are you positive of your readings?" a deep baritone accompanied the tread of heavy boots.

  "Absolutely," a second voice answered.

  Elise sidled up against the wall, trying to make herself small. Two males weren't good odds against a single female.

  Frustration filled the first voice. "I've never seen readings like these. I think the whole device is acting up."

  "Talk any louder and you'll run her off," came a third male voice. It seemed familiar, but she couldn't place it. Silence.

  Her breath thundered in her ears.

  "The outside is secured, my lord," a fourth called out.

  And now there were four. Four Vendel males in her home. No way these were humans… earthlings. Whatever!

  Her gut clenched.

  She edged back toward the kitchen, deciding on flight, and thumbed off the safety of her pistol.

  The second male sounded frustrated. "Snarking detector is acting like there are hundreds of them here."

  "Not hundreds… just the one." That voice, a rich timbre, had been in her dreams from the night she'd met him and he rubbed that perfume into her wrist. An aphrodisiac he'd called it, and something much more. "Now maybe you can get about the business of collecting her?"

  Silver eyes. Black hair. Strong hands. Fingertips which had left a trail of fire on her wrist massaging that perfume into her skin.

  A surreal calm swept through her body as her vision narrowed into a singular focus. The hammering of her heart, the quickness of her breath, her shaking hands, all of it stilled. Reason fled and rage took its place. She tightened her grip on her weapon and stepped around the corner.

  The High Tender stood at the end of the long hall, to the side, halfway in another room. Two men flanked the front door. Between them loomed the man responsible for murdering her grandfather, Elenor, Dale, Mark, Angel, the Jameson's, and God help her if Tom and the girls hadn't survived.

  Gregor Ulysses vlor'Malita's dreadfully handsome presence filled the space at the end of the hall, standing dead center and lined up for a kill shot. He destroyed her entire world. Now, she would kill him.

  She lined up his chest with the sight of her pistol.

  A slow inhale. A breath hold, just like her grandfather had taught. Her finger squeezed.

  With a loud retort, the gun recoiled and pushed her back.

  One of the men dove in front of the Emperor. Her bullet appeared in midair a couple feet in front of him, surrounded by a green light. It crept forward, slowly, inexorably pressing through a barrier of light.

  The man protecting the Emperor grunted as the bullet slowed, hit his chest, and bounced—bounced?—to the floor.

  The Emperor's head snapped up. His gaze locked onto her.

  She kept firing. The large man grunted as the bullets bounced off his flesh. She aimed the last bullet high. It pressed its way through the green haze as if moving through molasses to land between the Emperor's eyes.

  His head jerked back and then whipped forward. Fury lit his face as the spent bullet bounced—what was with the bouncing bullets?—off his brow to land at his feet. A tiny red dot marred his forehead. He should be dead.

  He rushed her.

  Beside him the High Tender screamed, "Sire, no!"

  The pistol fell from her hand to clatter against the marble tiles. She seized the Taser, thumbed it on, and shot at Gregor's stomach. Electricity flashed between them.

  His eyes widened in pain. It should have dropped him to his knees. Instead, he gritted his teeth and leaned into her.

  Power thrummed through the insulated handle of the Taser. With deliberate care, he grasped her wrist and yanked the Taser away. The stubby weapon flew and rattled off the wall, falling beside the discarded pistol.

  The High Tender rushed up behind the Emperor. He reached an arm around the Gregor's tall frame to press a slim sliver rod under her jaw. "Sire, you must let me deal with her. She is not yet—"

  The Emperor ground his jaw muscles, holding her gaze. He flicked his eyes down to focus on her lips. "High Tender, know your place."

  One of his hands secured her wrist over her head, his other cupped her jaw. He stroked her skin and pressed her body against the wall. "By the gods, but I am glad to see you."

  She flinched against the intimate touch.

  "Someday, you'll forgive me, but know this… you are, from this day forward, mine."

  Electricity pulsed between his hand and where he gripped her skin. The shock waves thrummed along her nervous system, building with each beat of her heart until she felt like she would explode. Beneath it, an unreasonable desire for him sprang forth. It was unwelcome, yet undeniable. She fought the sensual craving and struggled against his grip.

  "I belong to no one, least of all you." Even if he was all she wanted.

  She closed her eyes and thou
ght of her grandfather's lifeless body. It helped to push back the longing. Opening her eyes, the intensity of her desire reflected in his gaze, causing her to suck in her breath.

  The corner of his mouth twisted up. "Elise Comwell, you very much belong to me. Do not fight what comes next. There's no way to avoid the inevitable and I don't want to see you harmed."

  He gazed at her wrists and his eyes closed. "Do you feel it? Thrumming in our veins? Our connection is so strong. It's intoxicating."

  "I feel nothing."

  His eyes popped. "You lie."

  Her heart slammed into her throat. Lying to him wasn't working. He saw right through her. "I don't know what that is."

  "It's what ties us together… our bond." He closed the distance between them, his lips hovering over hers.

  A single word filled her mind. No! But she had no time to voice it before the heat of his mouth was upon her.

  The High Tender cried out. "No! You must resist the impulse. I must confirm her status before you stake your claim."

  Sparks of color spiked through her brain. A frisson of heat exploded and raced outward, traveling along her nerve endings from the base of her neck down her spine. Energy gathered in her body, trapped without an outlet, and vibrated with pulsating potential.

  He invaded her mouth, pushing his tongue inward to explore, to taste, to take. His body pressed her against the wall. She had nowhere to run, but she didn't want to flee. She wanted to kiss him back, to wrap her arms around his neck and hold on tight. Her self-loathing had never been so intense, but it didn't stop her from opening her mouth and letting him take what he wished.

  Pressing her against the wall, he held her in place. All the while, when she should have been beating at his chest trying to free herself, she clutched desperately at his belt.