When he surfaced, she was standing beside the ladder waiting. Pulling himself up the steps, he took the towel she was holding out to him.
“I assume the attraction to you will be gone now,” he said, beginning to rub himself down. “As will what has been causing the other Prime females to be interested in me.”
“Yes,” she said quietly. “What can I say or do to make you believe it wasn’t me, Kusac?”
“Nothing,” he said shortly, blotting the worst of the water from his hair. “I thank you for removing the marker, but that’s it. I want nothing more to do with you, Zayshul, except on a professional level.” He threw the towel at her and headed back to the cushions for his tunic.
As he bent to pick it up, both their scents, heavy with pheromones, rose from the cushions to greet him. With shaking hands, he snatched his tunic and belt up, keeping his thoughts firmly locked behind the strongest mental shields he could erect. Without looking back, he hurried from the clearing onto the path that led off the island.
Litany to Banish Fear
Fear is my adversary,
It brings the death of reason,
It clouds my senses and slows my actions.
I will face my fear,
I will embrace it,
Absorb it and conquer it.
I will use it against itself
To strengthen my resolve
And enhance my Gifts.
Fear is my adversary,
But it is not my enemy,
For where it once was, is my strength.
—Attributed to Sister Zylisha, from the Brotherhood’s Book of Pathways
CHAPTER 8
ZAYSHUL watched him leave, tears still slowly rolling down her pale cheeks. She’d tried to act honorably toward him—the risk she’d taken in meeting him here was considerable, even with Kezule off-station. She rubbed her hands across her face then took off her robe, folding it over the topmost handrail of the ladder. At least she’d done the right thing and turned off the scent marker, even if he hated her for doing it.
The water surrounded her, warming and caressing her naked skin the way her body had surrounded Kusac’s when they coupled. She treaded water, reliving the sensations until it suddenly occurred to her to wonder how she knew what he’d been experiencing. Shivering, she sank under the water, trying to dismiss the notion as her overactive imagination. A rogue part of her mind acknowledged to herself that the late N’koshoh hadn’t been wrong on one level when she’d scent-marked Kusac. His skills as a lover were beyond anything she’d encountered—the silky feel of his long fur against her skin, the way he seemed to know from moment to moment what would please her—all marked him apart from the Prime males she’d known.
She surfaced, realizing from the first she’d sensed his innate sensuality. Knowing he had an alien wife, she’d been curious about him—a curiosity admittedly enhanced by the scent marker. Tears sprang to her eyes again as she remembered his accusations of betrayal. It hurt that he should turn away from her in anger and disgust. She wanted—needed—his belief in her innocence, but had no idea how she was going to achieve it.
“My message you get. Too late is now for talking,” a voice out of the darkness accosted Kusac. It was the TeLaxaudin, Giyarishis.
“I was in the shower,” he said lamely, slowing down as his eyes picked out the faint form of the alien from the darkness at the end of the corridor. “I got lost in the dark,” he added.
“Tomorrow we talk. Come, Sholan. Go down elevator your level.” One thin hand beckoned him forward before Giyarishis turned back toward his office and the elevator beyond.
He followed the TeLaxaudin, thankful only that Giyarishis hadn’t asked more and had inadvertently provided him with an alibi for being on this level at that time of night.
Giyarishis left him at the junction of his corridor and stalked off without another word. Though he could see no curious Primes or Sholans about, Kusac padded quickly along the dimly lit passageway toward his quarters. The first thing he saw was the message-waiting light on the vid com blinking at him.
He stood under the shower, saturating himself and his tunic until he was sure it no longer held her scent, then he stripped it off and let it fall to the cubicle floor. Never before had he paired with anyone out of pure lust: always there had been some gentler feeling for his partner. But he felt nothing for Zayshul, nor she for him he was sure—and he’d debased himself, and her, by meeting her in the full knowledge of what he wanted to happen. It mattered not at all that he’d been drawn to her by the scent marker, nor that she was willing, he’d still gone. They had merely used each other to satisfy their own personal needs. Angrily, he reached for the soap and his washing brush.
Three times he scrubbed himself all over, but he couldn’t wash away his guilt—he felt soiled inside and out on a level he couldn’t clean. The chemicals in the soap, designed to prevent vermin infesting his pelt, stung his injured arm as well as the scratches and bites she’d inflicted on him in her passion. He winced, feeling it was at least a form of penance for what he’d done. As he scrubbed, he tried to forget how she’d obsessed his thoughts and dreams, how he’d searched daily for her scent whenever he entered a public area. Instead he kept telling himself that the nightmare was over and that he could finally get on with his life and build a meaningful relationship with his son. Unless someone was purposely looking for Prime DNA in Shaidan’s blood, they wouldn’t find it, masked as it was by the unique hybridized Sholan/Human genetic codes. If he could accept Shaidan as his son, so could everyone else, Carrie and Kaid included.
At the thought of them, his hand seemed to lose its grip and he dropped the brush. Bending to pick it up, he saw with shock that there was a tinge of pink in the water pooling round his feet. Now the chemicals really began to bite and sting as he realized he’d rubbed himself raw in several places.
Turning the water pressure higher, he sucked in his breath as the needles of water pounded against his body, beating the chemicals out of his pelt. He suffered it for several minutes, but finally it became too painful even for him and he had to turn the shower off.
Drying was as much of a problem as his roughened skin couldn’t take even the gentle abrasion of the towel. Still dripping, he padded into his bedroom, dabbing gently at himself until he found his toweling robe in one of the drawers. Wrapping it around him, he tied the belt loosely and lay down on top of his bed, purposely turning his mind away from all thoughts but those of his son.
For the first time, he was in no rush to leave Kij’ik. While they were here, he had time to put his energies into building on the tenuous relationship he and Shaidan were beginning to form. He wanted no outside interference, and that would be impossible at home under not only the watchful eyes of the rest of his family, but the distraction to Shaidan of meeting his sisters and triad parents for the first time.
The other cubs would be settled on his estate by now. Shaidan would fit in as well as they no doubt did. Everyone would assume the cub had the same background as the others—there was no need to tell anyone the true story. Let her think Shaidan was just one of the hybrids created by the Directorate. After all, one of the other five was her cub, and another was Kaid’s. If he locked his knowledge of Shaidan’s true parentage deep in his subconscious, no one need ever know the truth. All it would take was ensuring he never thought of Zayshul and Shaidan in the same breath. Then, gradually, even the memories of what had happened tonight would fade.
He winced as he rolled over and reached for the covers to pull across himself. The bandage round his injured forearm was soaking wet and uncomfortable but he was too tired to do anything about it even if he’d had the necessary dressings. Closing his eyes, he began planning a future on Shola for himself and Shaidan, one that included no repercussions between himself and his family over the way he’d had to leave.
Vartra watched with satisfaction, just a little tinged with concern, as Kusac began to build a wall of dreams around himself. At least he was
moving away from the Camarilla’s web of deceit. Even if his view of reality was idealistic, Kusac felt no sense of shared parenthood with the Prime female, and therefore no responsibility toward her. He began to relax, turning his mind to other matters though still keeping a portion of it on Kusac and his son.
Zhal-Kuushoi 25th day (December)
The insistent buzzing of his wrist comm finally roused Kusac from sleep; until he began to sit up, it refused to be silenced. He’d spent the night tossing and turning and now tiredness clung to him like ice in his pelt in winter. Banner’s face looked back at him from the tiny screen.
“It’s third hour, Captain,” said Banner formally. “We’re in the mess now. Had you forgotten we’re meeting in the temple in an hour to start decorating it for the festival tomorrow?”
“Ah,” he said. “Be there in ten minutes.”
Banner acknowledged him with a flick of an ear then the comm went dead.
He had forgotten, he realized, as he pushed himself stiffly out of bed. Grimacing, he pulled his still damp robe off and staggered over to the drawers for his black one.
Dousing his face in a basin of cold water helped him wake up. He felt like death warmed over—served him right for falling asleep while his pelt was still soaking wet, he thought wryly as he pulled his brush through his long hair. Despite what he tried, it rose, crackling with static, around his face like a full U’Churian mane. Sighing, he gave up and put the brush down on the shelf. As he did, the glint of the jewel in his ear caught his eye. Reaching up for it, he hesitated briefly, then resolutely removed it, leaving it lying on the shelf. That belonged to her and the night before—it had no place in tomorrow’s celebrations.
Banner kept nudging him throughout the meal, drawing his attention back to the ongoing conversation about the preparations for the festival.
“You decide, Jayza,” Kusac said finally as the discussion moved to the choice of candles they should use. He couldn’t keep his mind on the matter at all—his thoughts kept drifting off in irrelevant and unimportant directions. “You’ve been running the temple for us, your decisions should count for more than mine in this. I have no preferences.”
“But Captain, as Priest, you represent both Vartra the Consort, and the son of Ghyakulla and Vartra. You should be the one to decide,” objected the young male.
“You decide,” he said, pushing his chair back and getting to his feet. “I have the service to write, and deliver, since it won’t be the usual traditional festival with dancing and hunting.” Damn Jayza for reminding him he represented the fertility aspect of the God at this festival—instead of meditating on this responsibility, he’d been pairing with the Prime doctor.
“I thought you’d written the service already,” said Banner quietly when he caught up with him as he headed along the corridor to the temple.
“I made a start,” he said, “but I didn’t anticipate getting injured before finishing it.”
Banner looked sideways at him from under lowered brows. “I made some notes, too. Perhaps I can help you while the other three finish weaving the rest of the greenery we brought from the hunt into garlands. Jayza brought some clay back from the hunt and has made it into pretty good little statuettes of Vartra and Ghyakulla so at least we can represent Them properly tomorrow.”
“That’s good,” he said, nodding briefly, unable to speak any further.
They’d no sooner got settled into the Priest’s office when one of M’zynal’s young security officers arrived to remind him that he had an appointment with Giyarishis.
“Can’t it wait?” asked Banner. “We’ve only just started working on the sermon for tomorrow.”
“I’d better go,” he said, pushing his notes over to his Second. He’d completely forgotten about his meeting with the TeLaxaudin the night before. It would be extremely embarrassing if Giyarishis came down to get him and mentioned they’d met up on the hydroponics level late the night before. “Check this over for me.”
Giyarishis was waiting for Kusac in his office.
“I hope this won’t take long,” he said. “We’re finishing our preparations for tomorrow’s festival. Why do you want to see me?”
“Not take long. I do for Kzizysus. We go next door to medical room.”
Marshaling his thoughts, he followed Giyarishis into the room next door. He had a few questions of his own he’d like answered.
A slim, bronze hand pointed to the low examination couch. “Sit. Torc works well?”
“I have some questions I’d like to ask first,” he began.
“Answers you have later,” said the TeLaxaudin. “This first.”
The scent Giyarishis had emitted had quickly rendered the Hunter unconscious. He’d then been able to administer the drug needed to keep him like that for two hours. That achieved, he placed a sleep tape headset over his eyes, connected his Camarilla-made scanner to it and began to monitor the Hunter’s brain while running him through a series of virtual scenarios to test his psychic abilities.
What happened concerned him. The Hunter had initially tried to resist the dream scenarios—his willpower now was stronger than they’d anticipated, given his state of mind when Kzizysus had conducted the operation on him. But even that didn’t account for the periods when he was effectively invisible to the monitoring devices he’d placed throughout the outpost. He couldn’t put it down to a malfunction of the torc because it was performing as expected.
As they’d hoped, the Hunter’s abilities were spreading to enhance all his senses—not just his sense of smell. A body scan had shown several tiny anomalous nodules—too small to cause concern, and certainly benign in nature, they would cause no danger to his well-being. As for the cuts and grazes on his body which the sand-dweller female had left, and those where he’d washed himself too vigorously, they could be ignored.
Reaching for the final recording, one prepared by medics within the Camarilla itself, he inserted it in the headset with many misgivings. His colleagues wanted the Hunter’s training completed now, giving him access to the portions locked away by Naacha because he’d been too unstable at the time to control his expanding abilities. They had all hoped he would come to realize by himself how to unlock the memories, but that had not happened. Now it was time to give him the final clues and stimuli so he remembered everything.
While the tape was playing, he took the time to dress the Hunter’s injured arm. It was healing nicely, and as fast as they’d expected. It might be a good idea to fetch some of the pool water before restoring the power to the elevators and doors because then he could genuinely claim the chemicals in the Primes’ Holy Pool had aided the healing process.
As he made his way there, he was still troubled by the whole procedure, afraid that in awakening the Hunter fully, they’d unleashed a wild element, one they couldn’t control, that could cause the end of civilization as they knew it rather than making him the savior they hoped he would be.
“What do you mean there’s been a power failure on the hydroponics level?” Zayshul demanded of M’zynal when he finally arrived at his security office by the Command Level’s main elevator. “I want to talk to Giyarishis now!” She banged her hand on the counter between herself and M’zynal as he edged round behind it.
“I’m afraid you can’t, Doctor,” said M’zynal apologetically. “The engineers are working on it, but for now, we have no contact with that level at all. It’s effectively sealed off.”
“Who’s up there, and how long have they been trapped?” she demanded in frustration.
“Apart from the regular staff there, the TeLaxaudin and Captain Aldatan, and they’ve only been cut off for an hour. They’re in absolutely no danger, of course,” he reassured her. “Nor are we. It’s a temporary, localized fault.”
She stared at him openmouthed for a moment, then looked from him to M’kou. “What about the stairs? Aren’t those doors on a different circuit so this can’t happen?”
“They are, but their power is down, too.
We aren’t operating under normal circumstances, Doctor,” said M’kou patiently.
“We’ve had a crew working on sublevel five engineering deck all night rerouting the last of the main relays to the bridge and our new substations on this and the Officers’ level. Obviously something was either faulty or damaged after so long in disuse. They’ll locate the problem shortly and all will be back to normal, Doctor. We still have access between this level, the Officers’, and the main flight deck,” M’zynal explained.
“But none to hydroponics!”
“Not at the moment,” said M’kou soothingly.
“Actually, there is a way in,” said M’zynal, leaning forward to punch some keys on his console. “Look at the screen behind you.”
Zayshul turned round to see a cutaway plan of the asteroid exterior and the interior for the hydroponics level.
“Surrounding that deck on the outer surface of the asteroid, there are twenty concealed laser bays—all connected by maintenance tunnels. At least eight of them correspond to ground level for that deck.”
“There’s no need to go cutting through rock fused when they hollowed out the asteroid,” said M’kou firmly when Zayshul looked at him. “At worst, we can dismantle the locks on one of the stairwells—if we can’t get them out in the next two hours. There’s air, water, and food in there, Doctor, enough for them to survive for far longer than we can. They are in no danger. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we can get back to monitoring the engineers. I have informed Lieutenant Banner of the situation.”
Between Darkness and Light Page 29
