Bridging the Distance

by Evangeline Anderson

  “I don’t care—I don’t want to be hearing your excuses!” The Countess drew herself up and gave the serving male a withering look. “Be bringing the sweet course at once.”

  The serving males’ faces turned positively white.

  “Yes, my Countess. At once, my Countess,” they both said, bowing rapidly. Then they ran off in what was presumably the direction of the kitchen.

  Lorelei hoped they came back soon. Her mouth, throat, and esophagus felt like she had swallowed a flaming sword. She wouldn’t have been a bit surprised to look down and see black smoke billowing out from between her lips every time she opened her mouth. Oh God, why had she downed the tiny shot glasses of tingle and burn so quickly? This burning was a hundred times worse than the slimy fish-eye taste. A thousand times worse!

  Finally, a servant came running up to the pod, holding a white glass dish about as big as a cereal bowl in both hands. Balanced in a quivering mound, three feet higher than the sides of the bowl itself, was a bright blue, swaying mountain of what looked like some kind of meringue.

  “Here you are, Gentlewoman,” he said, leaning over the edge of the pod and setting it down in front of Lorelei. “The sweet course. Only I pray you take care, for—”

  But Lorelei had already picked up the most likely-looking utensil to eat the quivering mountain of meringue—or what she assumed was meringue, anyway. It was a kind of long-handled spork, with a rounded bowl like a spoon, tipped with long, sharp tines like a fork. Recklessly, she leaned forward and opened her mouth as she stabbed at the wobbly blue mountain.

  With a muffled bang! the whole thing exploded in her face.

  Lorelei gasped, drawing in a big breath in surprise and a good chunk of what turned out to be extremely-sweet custardy stuff as well. She coughed and choked, wiping at the blue, smeary chunks which were sliding down her face. It was like she had decided to have a facial with runny blue tapioca pudding—that was the consistency of the stuff which now coated her face, hair, and shoulders.

  “Oh My Lady!” Bound exclaimed and at the same time, the Countess du’Montrive cried out in shock,

  “Oh dear, this is being the worst mess I have ever been seeing in all my days!”

  “All right…I’m all right,” Lorelei managed to choke out. The one good thing about the exploding dessert was that it seemed to have stopped the burning in her mouth. It had a sort of berry-watermelon-mango flavor that reminded her of kid’s too-sweet bubblegum. But it was a hell of a lot better than feeling like she’d been sucking on a blowtorch.

  “This is being terrible!” the Countess exclaimed. “Why my dear Gentlewoman Daniels, I would not be blaming you if you chose to leave the Fren and Chulk and never be darkening our doorway again!”

  “No, no!” Lorelei hastened to reassure her. “Please, my Countess, please don’t think that I am, uh, being upset. None of this is being your fault—it’s all on me. I should have been more, uh, careful with the food. It’s just that we…we are not having anything like this dinner in Haska.”

  “So…you still wish to stay for the sale?” the Countess inquired, looking greatly relieved. “Oh, I do so hope you will be staying!”

  Lorelei wondered why she cared so much. Was she concerned about the reputation of the Fren and Chulk or was Femalian society particularly litigious and she was worried about getting sued?

  Either way, maybe they could use the Countess’s concern to their advantage.

  “I do want to stay,” she told the Countess, wiping away the blue, runny dessert with a golden foil napkin, which didn’t do much more than smear the stuff around. “For I have heard, er—have been hearing a rumor that you intend to be selling a Kindred warrior who has been modified by the V’radors.”

  “Oh no, my dear.” The Countess shook her head, her white plumes bouncing—somehow, though she wasn’t seated that far from Lorelei, her entire outfit was still spotless. “Oh no, we do not be intending to be selling any Kindred at the sale today.”

  “What?” Lorelei exploded. “No Kindred?”

  “Sadly, no.” The Countess shrugged. “We did have one, you know—quite a fine specimen too—a Kindred with black hair and green eyes.”

  Lorelei’s breath seemed to catch in her throat.

  “He sounds…beautiful,” she finally managed to say.

  “Oh, he is—he is being quite the most gorgeous male I have ever seen,” the Countess exclaimed. “But I cannot be selling him. He is much too savage.”

  Chapter Nine

  Bound’s heart leapt in his chest.

  “Too savage?” he heard Lorelei saying. “Whatever do you…I mean, what can you be meaning by that, Countess?”

  “Why, just what I am saying, my dear. The V’radors modified him to be a bodyguard/love-slave but he is being simply uncontrollable! Why, he killed two of my male slaves—simply snapped their necks like twigs! I cannot be setting such a creature loose with a good conscience. And unfortunately, the V’radors are absolutely refusing to take him back. So…” She shrugged. “I’m planning on having him put down.”

  “Put down?” Lorelei and Bound exclaimed at the same time.

  The Countess du’Montrive looked at both of them strangely, as though she thought their reaction was too extreme, and nodded.

  “Well…yes,” she said, speaking only to Lorelei. “Of course it is representing quite a financial loss but only be thinking of the legal ramifications if I was selling him and he was killing more people. Why next time he might be killing a female! Imagine that!”

  Hot words about killing an unarmed male rose to his lips but Bound had to swallow them down and remind himself he was a slave here and nothing more. He must not speak or he would “blow their cover,” as the humans said. He had to be quiet and let Lorelei do the talking. But it was hard—so damn hard when he knew his brother’s life was on the line!

  “I want to see him.” Lorelei said, putting down her gold foil napkin. She had gotten most of the blue stuff off of her face and though she looked rather odd, beauty and determination still lit her lovely features.

  “See him? Why my dear Gentlewoman Daniels, whyever for?” The Countess looked genuinely mystified.

  “Countess…” Lorelei leaned across the table, looking at the other woman intently. “What if I told you that you could still turn a profit on this particular Kindred with absolutely no legal risk to yourself?”

  The Countess looked at her suspiciously.

  “How can you be making such a claim?”

  Lorelei lifted her chin. “I am a member of PETOM—People for the Ethical Treatment Of Males—and I am here to rescue any unwanted males you have today, specifically your Kindred. I will be paying top dollar for this male and taking him far away with me to a different solar system where you will never be hearing from him ever again. And I am willing to sign any legal document you will be producing to clear you of any and all liability. What do you say?”

  “Well…this is sounding like a good offer…” The Countess du’Montrive looked like she was wavering. “But really, my dear Gentlewoman—why would you want such a savage beast? Everyone knows a male who cannot be controlled is worthless! I have some lovely, malleable Jinoshins who have been trained in the art of female worship. They’ll spend all day sucking your toes if you so command them.”

  “I’m sorry,” Lorelei said firmly. “I don’t care about toe sucking—I only want the Kindred.”

  “Well…” The Countess threw down her own napkin with a sigh. “I suppose we can be seeing if he is still alive.”

  “Still alive?” Lorelei’s big brown eyes widened in alarm.

  “Why yes. I ordered him destroyed an hour ago. But you know my dear, my head guard is being so lazy. I really would consider replacing her if it wasn’t being such a pain to find good help…”

  “Can we go?” Lorelei asked. “Can we go to see him right now?”

  “Oh, very well. I am considering this meal spoiled anyway.” The Countess looked at her slave-mate. “Tingor, if
you please?”

  Without a word, the tall male stood and lifted his mistress over the side of the pod they were sitting in and then climbed over himself.

  Bound did the same for Lorelei, his hands shaking as he lifted her. Was Torn all right? Was his Twin dead?

  Surely not, he thought, trying desperately to convince himself. I would have felt it if our bond was severed by his death.

  But their bond had become so very weak and tenuous lately. Would he have felt it? Bound just wasn’t sure.

  Please, Goddess, he prayed, his stomach clenching like a fist as he deposited Lorelei gently on the main floor of the dining area and climbed up after her himself. Please let my brother be well! Please let us be in time!

  He heard no answer and could do nothing but follow Lorelei and the Countess du’Montrive out of the dining area and into the back of the club.

  * * * * *

  Lorelei’s heart was in her mouth as she followed the Countess out of the red fur-carpeted dining area and into a warren of hallways at the back of the Fren and Chulk. They twisted and turned back and forth, the Countess walking unhurriedly ahead of them, her high-heeled boots tap-tap-tapping on the scuffed wooden floor with maddening regularity until Lorelei thought she was going to scream if the other woman didn’t hurry up.

  She resisted the urge to push the Countess out of the way and go running ahead, looking for Torn herself. For one thing, she had an idea that such an act of rudeness would turn the other woman against her completely. And for another, she wasn’t at all sure where they were going. The back of the Fren and Chulk was like a maze and she could easily see herself getting lost and never finding the Dark Twin—or her way out for that matter.

  So she held onto her patience grimly until at last, to her relief, they finally came to a large, open area at the end of the winding hallway. It looked like a storage area—there were boxes and barrels of dry and wet ingredients for the kitchen and cleaning supplies stacked in a corner. But the main focus of the room seemed to be the large, metal cages which were scattered around.

  There were all kinds of males in the cages—one with pale blue skin and pointed ears, another with long blond tresses and the gorgeous, androgynous face of a Tolkien elf, and another who bore a more than passing resemblance to the Incredible Hulk except he had purple skin instead of green. But where was Torn?

  “There! My Lady, there!” The cry seemed ripped from Bound’s throat and he raised his hand and pointed with a trembling finger.

  All alone in a cage that was well distant from the others was a towering, dark shape with shaggy black hair and the burning green eyes of a demon. A low, angry growl was coming from his mouth.

  Standing in front of the cage was the same tall woman who had escorted them into the Fren and Chulk in the first place. She was pointing what was clearly some kind of weapon between the bars at the figure.

  “No! NO!” Lorelei gasped, running towards the tall woman, who must be the head guard. “No, stop what you’re doing! Put down the gun—or rifle—or whatever it is! Put down that weapon and don’t shoot!”

  “What?” the woman turned her head, frowning a little but she didn’t lower her weapon.

  “Put it down,” Lorelei insisted. She rushed forward, her arms out, thinking she might tackle the tall guard and take her to the ground.

  The guard swung around so that the long weapon—it definitely looked like some kind of rifle—was pointed right at Lorelei’s face.

  “What is the meaning of this? What do you want?” she demanded.

  Lorelei stopped abruptly, her heart skipping a beat as the woman’s finger tightened on the trigger. Was she going to die here? Was this the end?

  “Yallah, you fool—be putting down that ash-rifle at once,” the Countess du’Montrive exclaimed in obvious annoyance. “Never aim a weapon at a guest! I cannot believe I have to be telling you this!”

  “But my Countess,” the tall guard protested. “I was only for to be obeying your orders and killing this Kindred.”

  “He is not to be killed—not yet, anyway,” the Countess said sharply. “Now get away, Yallah. I’ll be ringing for you later if I am needing you.”

  With a sullen look on her face, Yallah slunk away, taking the long, lethal-looking ash-rifle with her. Lorelei wondered if it was called that because it incinerated people. Maybe all that was left after you shot someone was a pile of ash?

  The thought didn’t bear thinking of. Instead, she turned her attention to the huge, wild-looking Kindred in the cage. He was huge—well over seven feet tall, Lorelei was certain. His long, dark hair was shaggy and unkempt and his deep green eyes, ringed with pure black, burned with hatred. Their effect was intensified because someone had put lots and lots of black eye makeup all around his eyes, hiding them in shadows that looked almost like a mask.

  The prisoner’s chest was bare but instead of being smooth, like Bound’s, Lorelei could see a patch of crisp, dark curls between the flat copper disks of his nipples. He was just as fit as Bound though—his broad chest and long arms were heavy with muscle and his abdominals rippled as he growled—yes, growled—through the bars of the cage.

  Something had been done to one of his arms, Lorelei saw—it was coated in silver and a heavy black glove covered the fist. It was strapped securely to his side by a broad band of some metallic black fabric that looked made to withstand a lot of abuse. But only having one hand free didn’t make the prisoner any less menacing. He apparently didn’t need the silver arm to kill or maim and the wild look in his eyes said he was ready to do both.

  Staring at the metal arm strapped to his side, Lorelei thought about how Bound had said the V’radors modified their victims. Had one of his arms been removed and replaced with an artificial one somehow? If so, what else had they done to him? She would have to get him someplace where she could try to interface with whatever AI system had been added to him before she could find that out—if this was the right guy.

  He was so wild-looking, Lorelei had to glance at Bound to be certain.

  “Bound?” she said in a low voice. “Is this really him?”

  But Bound had eyes only for the male in the cage. He came forward, reaching a hand towards the bars, his intense blue eyes filled with shadows and pain.

  “Brother?” he whispered. “Torn, are you well?”

  The wild man in the cage—or wild Kindred, Lorelei supposed she ought to call him—roared in rage and threw himself at the bars. His hair flew around his face and his eyes burned out at them, seeming to promise terrible things if only he could get his one free hand on them. Even his scent was wrong, Lorelei thought—it smelled musky and dark—like a cornered animal prepared to kill to protect itself. He reached one long arm through the bars and swiped at Bound, just barely missing the other warrior.

  Bound stood back, his eyes suspiciously bright.

  “He…he doesn’t even know me,” he murmured in a low, broken voice. “My Lady, I cannot reach him—even through our bond, which is nearly gone.”

  “Oh, Bound…” Lorelei put a hand on the big Kindred’s arm, wishing she could ease his pain. How awful to have finally found his brother after all these months of searching and now the other male didn’t even recognize him.

  The Dark Twin in the cage roared again and made another grab through the bars with his free hand. All of them stepped back hurriedly and the Countess du’Montrive tsked and shook her head sadly.

  “Do you see what I mean, my dear? This one is being much too savage to save. Best you should look over here at my lovely Jinoshins and let my head guard do what she must to end this wretched creature’s life.”

  “No!” Lorelei said quickly. “That is…I’m still interested, my Countess,” she said quickly. “I’ll pay your price and sign your paperwork but I must have him—I must,” she emphasized.

  “I’m more than happy to be getting him off my hands,” the Countess said, frowning. “But how will you be getting him back to your ship, my dear? He’s quite wild and uncontr
ollable, as you can see.”

  Lorelei was stumped. How would they get the huge, angry Kindred back to their shuttle? The cage was much too large to fit in their little ship so simply keeping him confined was out of the question. She thought hard.

  “Do you have any kind of sedation?” she asked at last.

  The Countess frowned.

  “I have some light doses we use, mostly when the males first come in, but we’ve already been trying that. Nothing is seeming to affect that brute.” She sighed. “When they brought him in, the V’radors swore that he had been programmed to imprint on a single mistress but he certainly hasn’t done so with either me or any of my guards.”

  A light bulb went off in Lorelei’s head. Those shadows around his eyes—they aren’t eye makeup at all! They’re nanites. And nanites mean a touch-interface!

  “Imprint on a single mistress?” she asked, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. “Has anyone—either you or any of your female guards—touched him at all? I mean, skin-to-skin contact?”

  “Well, no my dear Gentlewoman!” the Countess exclaimed. “I mean look at him. After he was killing the two male slaves none of us were wanting anything to do with such a beast. We had all we could do just getting him into his cage and that was with one arm strapped down.”

  Nanite-driven touch-interface, Lorelei thought again. It was a technology so new on Earth that she’d barely had any time to study it before the new laws had been passed, banning it. She was almost certain the black shadows she saw around the huge Kindred’s eyes were nanites—tiny machines which were supposed to work with the AI interface. But for some reason, instead of doing their job and helping the AI and organic parts of their host to communicate seamlessly, they were all gathered around Torn’s eyes.

  Something wasn’t right with them and the way they were working inside his big body. But if what the Countess had said about the big Kindred imprinting on a single mistress was true, maybe Torn could be put back into some kind of balance simply with a touch.