by Lita Stone
“Lynn is mine,” Isaac said.
A three-foot tall boy child—Ben?—hovered near the waist of his stout father. “Daddy?”
“Not now,” Joe said. “Go watch TV. Daddy's got to take care of something.”
Tears pooled in Lynn’s eyes as she watched the boy disappear into the house. She kicked at the windows. Pounding. Grunting. Clawing. Screeching.
Black fur suffused Isaac, his body contorting into a regal panther. Wings sprung from his shoulders and folded against his backbone.
Pride blossomed in her core. Isaac, her twin, her mate, magnificent in his honest form.
“Holy Mary shit!” Joe slammed the door.
Lynn heard the steel deadbolt slide into place. She pressed her face closer to the windshield, entranced by Isaac's new form crowding the porch. The incredible beast resembled only something she'd seen in drawings, something mythical.
A furious Minotaur, Isaac plowed through the locked door. Hinges screeched as wood violently splintered.
Lynn’s supernatural hearing punished her with the screams of her husband. She covered her ears but it did little to drown the soul-piercing cries and gory splashing like a bucket of slop being spilled, followed by the ravenous snorting and grunting of a starved boar.
And the sound of skin ripping.
The crunch of bones.
Four-year-old Madison sobbed, “Daddy! My Daddy!”
Lynn stamped her feet, rocking back and forth. “Make it stop.” Salty tears streamed down her cheeks. Her body shook. A grumble of helplessness rattled the windows. “Make it stop! I don’t want to be a monster!”
A blinding green light flooded the car. The agonizing sounds vanished.
She glanced down at the lush greenery beneath her feet. Fruit bearing trees and vibrant blossoms sprouted all around her. She stood in a garden of beauty surrounded by plants and trees she could not identify. The greenery and buds shimmered with an unearthly beauty.
Mighty trees stretched to a lavender twilighted sky. A congregation of stars twinkled against the purple heaven. Moisture purified the earthen soil. From the forest canopy, songbirds sang sweet hymns and a summer breeze curled around her, carrying the comfort of Frankincense and myrrh.
Lynn walked along a path that led deep into the Eden-esque grove. She came to a clearing, a perfect circle etched in the untouched garden.
A black kitten played with a fallen leaf, its eyes large and watery. Lynn scooped the animal into her arms and it purred with the ferocity of a tigress, drowning out the songbirds. The kitten pressed its soft fur against her chest, and for a still moment she felt safe.
A child screamed.
She whirled and saw a black panther dash through the clearing, its predatory breathes amplified by the trees.
The lush foliage wilted and fell to ash on barren dirt. Like quicksand, the ground imploded, sinking into the center of the opening where she stood until nothing remained but the stars in the charred sky.
The kitten in her arms meowed. Lynn gritted her teeth before snapping its neck.
She fell through the sinkhole.
The car’s passenger door flew open and Lynn tumbled out.
Chapter Twenty-One
Atticus stood in the center of the room that Rourn and he had shared for almost two decades. Rourn’s bureau, black walnut with golden trim, had been emptied, his robes and garbs that once hung in the closet gone. One of his sheathed long sword rested peacefully on top of the bureau, waiting obediently for its master’s return.
Atticus held up the Silver Selector long sword gifted to him by Elder Cai. The sword had been hand forged by the Grand Smithy of the Templar Court the day of his birth. Though it possessed no arcane powers, it had been specifically crafted for the battles surely to face a Twin warrior. According to some antiquated lore a warrior was to name the sword he intended to carry into battle, then he was to prick his finger with the tip so the named blade would know its master’s blood, and never accidentally harm him in the throes of war.
But Atticus neither possessed the imagination nor concern for folkloric nonsense. Two swords had been crafted on that day long ago, but only one would ever be wielded—Rourn’s counterpart was doomed like its master to remain somewhere deep within a vault.
He placed his unnamed sword on his dresser and crawled into the bottom bunk. Rourn always took the top. He said he liked being closer to the sky than to the ground.
There is more knowledge and faith in the stars above, than in the Earth below our feet.
But it had been a long day and though Atticus couldn’t stop thinking about his lost blood-brother, the inauguration, Elder Cai, and the Time of Reckoning, he soon drifted into a restless sleep.
Somewhere in an unknown desert, he found himself bound to a tall wooden stake. A nightmare of a beast that towered above mountain shadows, burned him at the stake. Just as the flames engulfed him, a harsh shaking woke Atticus. “Screaming locust!” He jolted awake.
“It is time.” Bathed in light from a kerosene lantern hung on the end of his hornbeam staff, Elder Cai stood beside the bed. “You must depart for Texas immediately.”
Atticus knuckled sleep from his eyes.
“There has been a murder,” Elder Cai said. “It would appear the Geminus is behind the massacre. Come with me, now, Selector. We make haste to the Knightwood Coliseum.”
Atticus threw some common clothes in a duffel bag. He paused before grabbing the Silver Selector long sword and fastening the scabbard to his belt. He tucked Rourn’s journal into a deep inner pocket of his cloak before staring out the open window. If he’d known he was going to depart so soon, he’d have gone to Venora, and said his farewell. And he would also deeply regret missing Rourn’s funeral.
From his robe pocket, Elder Cai pulled a chained pendant. The Glorious Seal was carved into the pendant’s pearl. He draped it around Atticus’ neck. “I have enchanted it with arcane magic…to aid in your mission. Use it sparingly. Use it wisely.”
Atticus nodded.
“Come, boy!” Elder Cai said. “We’ve no time to spare.”
Crossing the desert sands of the compound, Atticus asked, “Rumors fly as to the safety of teleporting.”
“It is as safe as any magic.”
“Will it get me to Texas in one piece?”
Elder Cai tilted his head. “Either that or you could land in the Arctic Circle. But we are praying for Buckeye.”
“Such comforting words,” Atticus said.
“You’ll be fine, boy. But you did pack winter clothes just in case, didn’t you?” Elder Cai gave a playful wink.
Atticus and Elder Cai strolled through the bronze arched tunnel and into the Knightwood Coliseum. The electric automobile waited in the open arena. The most exalted warriors from times past and other cadets who’d been stirred from sleep gathered in the bleachers to see Atticus’ grand departure.
They came to offer their support in the most honorable fashion. Two raised platforms hosted eight men, four on either side. Adorned in elegant green mantles and silver ceremonial helmets that masked their aged faces; the High Templars of the Templar Court, all held the posture of statues.
Prefect Cauldrick, in his own large ceremonial garb, hands clasped behind his back, said, “The Court...” He eyed Elder Cai. “...pledges its support of the lone Twin.”
Atticus bowed. “I accept my duty with honor, Prefect.”
Elder Cai coughed into his fist. He threw a mock smile at Prefect Cauldrick. “And you support the Court, do you not?”
Prefect Cauldrick ignored Elder Cai. “Please take your position inside the vehicle.”
Atticus stepped toward the driver’s door. He hesitated before turning. “I wish to speak with the High Templars.” He knelt on one knee before Elder Cai and the Prefect. “This burden weighs on me. I am the grasshopper beneath the cobblestone from the fables.”
Elder Cai waved his hand. “Go then and speak with the Templars, but do not linger.”
“The
lone Twin is not ready,” Prefect Cauldrick said. “We cannot send him on this assignment for it was meant for Twin warriors to reckon the Beast.”
“Do not second guess my pupil any longer, for I know this is Atticus’ destiny and so knew Rourn.”
“Foolish insolence,” Prefect Cauldrick said.
Atticus strode toward the platform on the left. The four sagacious warrior priests stood six feet above. He craned his neck to view their masked faces. They remained solid as stone.
Atticus held himself straight. “I ask of you, the High Templars of the Court: am I ready for the Reckoning?”
In unison the four warriors replied: “Alone you shall stand.”
Atticus gave a curt nod and approached the four warriors on the other side.
“I ask of you, the High Templars of the Court: am I ready for the Reckoning?”
In unison the four warriors replied: “Together we shall fall.”
Atticus sighed. These elder warriors will not give me their truths, only more ceremonial proverbs.
He marched back to the car.
“Do not let the pressures of politics cloud your faith,” Elder Cai said to the Prefect.
“You’re a fool, Cai!” Cauldrick said as Atticus approached them. “Nothing but a drunken poet!”
“He is no fool,” Atticus said. “He is my mentor, and my friend, and my only father. Rourn is dead, and now I must carry on without him. And I will do so with or without your blessing.”
Prefect Cauldrick gawked at Atticus then at Elder Cai. He shook his head.
“We have the utmost faith in you, Selector Atticus. We only—”
“I haven't the time, Prefect. I must go now.”
Cauldrick nodded, straining a smile. He neared Atticus and handed him a blossoming white rose. “Then as the Prefect I bless you. Under the rites of the Order of Abel I bestow the Rose of Validation, Selector Atticus; and shall the rose wither, so shall your triumph; but shall the rose remain vibrant, then so shall your virtues.”
Atticus placed the stem between his teeth as custom dictated and slid behind the wheel. The sweet scent of the flower filled the car’s small interior. The ritual claimed that if it did not wilt after he went through the portal, he beheld the inner strength of a true warrior, able to channel his life force even to a delicate rose. But if the flower wilted...
Through the windshield, he watched the High Templars rotate their hands while reciting incantations.
At the far end of the Coliseum a small white star appeared and expanded.
The swirling portal continued inflating, concealing the far walls of the arena. Elder Cai stood beside the driver’s side. The portal spiraled with a multitude of colors, a swirling kaleidoscopic wheel.
Elder Cai gave him a comforting smile, tipped his flask and gulped. “Go!” he shouted as he waved his arm.
Atticus floored the gas pedal. The car rocketed forward, accelerating. Like a pebble from his slingshot while Horny Toad Popping, the car hurled toward the massive star that shined ahead of him.
The speedometer climbed.
Fifty-five...
His teeth clenched tighter around the rose.
Sixty-five...
The rose would show him the truth.
Seventy...
The portal’s energy was so bright he could no longer see the Coliseum.
Eighty-one.
Atticus snapped his head to the right and spat the rose.
Eighty-six.
A sea of whiteness and beams of electric blue engulfed him. A deafening silence rolled over the car. The light faded, replaced by darkness. Headlights beamed in the distance like the eyes of a charging automatonic wyrm. Atticus gripped the steering wheel while releasing the gas pedal.
A massive oncoming vehicle blared a howling horn as it passed. He clutched the wheel. The car swerved chaotically. He missed a guardrail and careened sideways across a grassy median; and came to a stop on the other side of the road. His eyes widened as two cars raced toward him. Gunning the gas, he sped to the other side of the highway and into the break down lane.
Shifting to park, he exhaled a lungful of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
“This is quite different than training in the desert.”
Atticus glanced to the digital screen above the radio and waited for the GPS to upload his location. A flashing blue circle appeared, indicating he was just outside Houston, Texas.
Thank the angels above I am not on a glacier. Gripping the steering wheel at and ten and two, he sighed. But I have to get the lotus off this highway.
A billboard advertised Dr. Pepper. Poisonous serum for the masses, he recalled from his Contemporary Studies. The phone clipped to the visor above him rang, a Celtic hymn. He answered.
“Are you in Texas?” asked Elder Cai.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then it worked!” Elder Cai’s voice sounded distance as he retold of Atticus’ success to those in the Coliseum. “And what of the rose, Atticus?”
He glimpsed the dead flower in the passenger seat, petals dry and stem broken. The sweet scent no longer present. “It remains vibrant; white as your beard, Elder.”
“Splendid! I knew it would be. I knew it would be.”
“I am overwhelmed at your confidence in me.”
“Waste no time with pleasantries, Selector. Onward to the murder scene and report back with your findings.”
“Yes Elder.” Atticus hung up and reached under the seat. He retrieved a paper folder, full of topographical maps and data he’d need for his mission. Before. He removed Rourn’s journal from his pocket and laid it on the passenger seat next to the dead rose, then shifted to drive and swerved onto the interstate. Headlights flooded the dark highway ahead. “I guess you’ll still be accompanying me,” Atticus said to the darkness. “We will defeat the Geminus together, my brother.”
Atticus tapped the radio and a voice came through: “You're listening to The Eagle, Houston's only classic rock station. Here comes Judas Priest with ‘You Got Another Thing Coming’”
Chapter Twenty-two
On her hands and knees, Lynn panned her new environment. The burnished concrete that formed a crescent drive in front of a four-story mansion. Graphite columns lifted a gable like pallbearers holding a casket. Wrought iron barred windows prevented entry from the outside, or escape from the inside. A sprawling lawn stretching a couple acres beside and behind her, giving the mansion a foreboding remoteness. Yet, Lynn saw other neighboring properties.
She shot upward and latched onto Isaac with clawing hands. “You murdering bastard!” Her fingernails peeled flesh from his neck. Through burning tears she aimed for his face, screaming and flailing.
A sardonic groan served as Isaac’s only protest.
The back of her hand smashed into his lips. Blood trickled.
Isaac clutched her wrist. A glint of moonlight reflected off her diamond ring. With a menacing crunch, he bit her finger at the knuckle, leaving behind an amputation of surgical precision. He chewed, swallowed, and spat remnants of the diamond and gold onto the concrete driveway.
Searing pain and ghastly fright overpowered her body and mind. Lynn saw the blood on her hands, the blood on his lips, the blood on the ground; she smelled the metallic aroma. Shrieking and jumping, the world blurred as tears seized her eyes.
But the intoxicating scent of the blood broke through the agony, driving her into a new frenzy. She lunged, nipping at his parted lips, and grasping for his crotch. The jewel in his chest rapidly pulsated and turned a brighter crimson red.
Tongues tangled, her blood on his lips. Saliva poured from their mouths, and spilled down their cheeks and chins.
Isaac hurled her against the front of the car. With a swipe of a claw, he shredded her blouse, severing her bra, exposing her erect nipples.
With ravenous delight, his lips clasped around her right breast, his hands gripped her hips. He forced her shorts and panties down her thighs. A smooth claw flicked her labia, grazi
ng her sensitive folds, and sending satin strands of electricity through her body. Hot wetness—pungent and exhilarating—gushed from her insides, coating his claws and fingers in creamy fluids.
Her throat unleashed a deep and powerful growl—a promise that she would erupt with the most fantastic orgasm.
Isaac lifted her, placing her on the car hood. He palmed her breast, forcing her to lay on the warm metal, the hot steel delivering quivers throughout her naked skin.
Using his torso, he pried her legs apart. Each of his firm hands held her wrists, his snarling face lingered near her collarbone. He was about to rip her throat open, but with a ruthless jolt, he shoved her higher until she sat upright, her back against the cool windshield. With a needful panting, he dove between her legs where his feral mouth clasped onto her labia. He flicked his rough tongue along her engorged clit.
A thirsty beast, he greedily drank from her frothy well.
While nibbling and sucking, he breathed throaty moans. Her body surrendered to orgasm, pleasure charging through her. Over and over and over. A haze of ecstasy shrouded her mind. Her struggle to regain her senses was almost over when...
A zipper and the shuffling of clothes.
“Master! No!” a strange female voice cried.
Isaac glared at the intruder, a pale naked and bald young woman standing behind him. He swiped a claw at the woman, but she leapt away.
“You mustn’t take her yet.” The naked woman further floated from his reach.
Isaac snarled, and terrifying canines flashed.
Lynn’s body throbbed with need. Between her thighs, the blood in her veins pulsed. Stickiness seeped from her sex—her sex that mercilessly craved more.
Isaac looked back to Lynn. A softness glazed over him before he ruthlessly tossed her to the ground. As Lynn crawled to her feet, she saw a shadowy blur. Once again, Isaac morphed into a panther. Dark wings soared him over the trees.
Lightning flashed in the night sky.
“Isaac!” Lynn called after him. “Don’t leave me alone. I’m frightened.” As the hormonal hysteria dissipated, an agonizing throb hummed from the void of her missing finger.
