“I’m not sure,” Genevieve ran a hand through her golden hair as various explanations worked their way through her head, none of them very good. “Perhaps they smell her uniqueness.”
“Look at their faces, Gen,” Rachel breathed, leaning over the railing. “They look orgasmic. Can a human ever have that kind of charisma?”
“No,” Gen said simply. "But Celeste's not fully human anymore; at least, I don't think she is."
“Perhaps you should discuss this with your mother when we get home.”
“I don’t think that is a good idea,” Gen shook her head. “Whatever she is, whatever her purpose is, I do not know if the Others should be made aware of it just yet.”
“What do you suggest?”
“We wait and see,” she said with a brilliant smile, watching the show take place right below them. “It should be an interesting place back at the Adytum tonight; especially if these poor slaves forget to fuel up. I would almost kill to see the looks on those foul Apocritae faces when they get nothing.”
“The Apocritae aren’t all bad,” Rachel reminded her. At Genevieve’s doubtful snort of disgust, she laughed, “I've heard that the Vespari brothers are pretty awesome.”
Genevieve shrugged her shoulders, reluctantly agreeing with her friend over her own objections, though they had never met either man. From what she had heard they were as different from the other Apocritae as night and day and were notoriously private. With a delicate sniff, she sighed, “They have too much influence on our world. I do not trust a creature that can cause so much destruction and care so little."
Chapter 7
The human slave cleared his throat, interrupting the Queen's private contemplations. Narrowing her jewel-black eyes, she faced the slave intruding upon her inner sanctum. If he failed to have a very, very good reason for being there, she would have his head. No one was allowed beyond the throne room, especially not a… human. “What is it, slave?”
“There, uh, um,” he coughed, covering his mouth with his hand, unable to hide the tremble of fear that snaked through his body at having to be the one to tell the Queen something might be wrong. But there was no other choice; if his findings were right, she would be far more furious if she were to find out later. Clearing his throat, he began to explain. “There is a… wrinkle, Your Majesty.”
“A wrinkle?” she asked, her voice throaty and rich, deadly, as she raised a delicately arched eyebrow. Her exquisite features were perfect: pale, pale skin; large, all black eyes; a lush red mouth which housed a wicked set of fangs; all in a smooth, slender face. Her body was long and lean with a very narrow, waspish waist; her limbs were long and lean as well. Long, pale blond hair hung like fine silk to her hips, satiny smooth and straight. She wore a silky dress that seemed to slither along her skin, almost as if it were a living thing. She was all that was graceful, fluid, lethal.
As she uncurled from the chaise lounge on which she reclined, the man felt the cool hand of death slide down his spine. Swallowing past the growing lump in his throat, he tried not to notice the Queen’s long, long red and lethal nails, the way her body seemed coiled and ready to strike beneath her cool exterior. One wrong word and she would unleash all of that barely restrained power and he would be ripped to shreds. Clearing his throat again, he explained, “Something, we're not exactly sure what, isn't quite right and you wished to be informed of any potential problems.”
“I see,” she murmured, the words wrapping around his throat as she took another step closer to him. Her movements were mesmerizing, molten. Seductive. “Go on.”
“There seems to be a… twist in the Fabric that did not exist a few weeks ago,” he said quickly, sticking two fingers down the front of his shirt and tugging at the suddenly too-tight collar as beads of sweat gathered on his brow. Was a man supposed to feel arousal so near his own demise? Was death as glorious as passion? He closed his eyes to the incongruent thoughts; passion was dead to him. “We don’t know much….”
“Is there anything you can tell me about this… twist?” she interrupted, curling her lips around the last word, stalking closer. As he followed her with his eyes she watched a bead of sweat glide over his haggard face. Would he taste as good as he smelled? All of that pent up energy would burst in her mouth like the freshest sun. She rolled her tongue over her lower lip, almost tasting him in her mouth.
“It’s… it’s a mere shadow, really; without any known substance,” he continued, trying to explain something that was unexplainable to a being who was not very understanding. His heart was raging in his chest sweat dampened his hair; he could almost smell his own demise. Knowing he could die at any moment did nothing to lessen the erection straining against the front of his pants. Was she aware of his attraction? Fighting back the urge to whimper, he continued, “It might be a hiccup or a glitch, but there is no way of knowing just what it could be.”
“So it may prove to be nothing of consequence?” she asked and he knew that his answer would mean his life or death. Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure which answer would displease her more. He wasn’t sure which answer would please him; would death at her hands be glorious?
“We… are… not… sure,” he said slowly, desperately trying to gauge her response, to know whether he was going to live or die. He wasn’t at all successful; her face remained a perfect, cruel mask, giving nothing away. Still he lusted, his passion re-awakening after so many years. Would it be worth it? “It might be meaningless or it might not be; but it does seem to be… growing.”
“Growing?” she asked, with another graceful arch of her eyebrow. But she had stopped stalking him and he felt he could take his first real breath since entering her chamber.
His heart thudded painfully in his chest as he tried to pull himself together. It wasn’t passion he felt but fear. “Uh,” he swallowed hard, his chest tightening. “Yes, growing.”
“When did it first come to your attention?” she asked, still standing in one spot. He took that as a positive sign; at least his death wasn’t imminently imminent. He had to continue treading carefully; she was unpredictable at the best of times and this was not the best of times.
“Uh, er, this morning, Your Majesty,” he managed. Fumbling with a small, black box, he pressed the little button on the side and an image of various bio-rhythms popped up. Scanning the image quickly, he found what he was looking for and pointed at it with his index finger. “There, Your Majesty.”
Her black eyes focused on the spot at the tip of his fingers, the little blip that pulsated with a slight irregularity; at least compared to the surrounding rhythms. There was nothing special about it. “It is hardly anything.”
“Yes, I realize that,” he stammered, pressing another button, this time bringing up another hologram. “So I checked it out: it has been there for just under two weeks but it just recently became visible to our normal readers.”
“You had the Monoliths track it?” she asked, the venom apparent in her voice as her black eyes focused on him once more. His cock leapt in his pants and he closed his eyes as a wall of lust washed over him. “Answer me!”
His eyes widened and a little whimper managed to escape as he squeaked out a meager, “Yes.” He forced his voice to return to semi-normal, though it was still pathetic, even to his own ears. “Yes, I… took it upon myself to approach the Monoliths because I had never seen anything like it before. It took several hours for them to track it back to its origin, but….”
“SILENCE!” she cried out, raising her hand and turning her head away, not wanting to hear the man speak anymore. She needed a moment to comprehend what was being said.
The man watched as the lethal queen walked over to the glass wall that separated them from the swarms of wasps beyond. She placed a hand on the glass, staring at the yellow and black bugs as if they could offer her some comfort. A shiver of repulse tripped down his spine; the insects were terrifying, but far less terrifying than the Queen. He swallowed, hoping to recover some of his wits before she r
emembered he was there, waiting her judgment.
The Queen did not like wrinkles, they always left a bad taste in her mouth; and she really did not like having a bad taste in her mouth. The slave standing behind her had that deep well of energy but he also had a stench that spoke of deep, profound sadness. And she hated cleansing her palate with sadness, it was much too depressing. After this horrid meeting, she would have a college student sent up; they always seemed to satisfy her. Maybe she would even let it live when she was finished. Her lips curled into a wicked smile; or maybe not.
Softly, her gaze fixed on her lovely insects, she asked, “Does it continue to grow?”
“Er, yes,” he answered. Thoughtlessly, he added, “The Monoliths tried to project its course but it seems to be… unpredictable.”
“Impossible,” she breathed, her breath fogging the glass briefly before the smudge of air disappeared. Perhaps she was worried over nothing; strange things that had no significance to her had been occurring for several years now. Perhaps this was just something along those lines. Closing her eyes, she took slow, deep breaths; perhaps it was necessary to have two ripe humans sent up. She would drain them dry and then kill them; she had no need for anymore Calices, vile creatures that they were.
“It doesn’t seem to follow any known pattern, Your Majesty,” he muttered, taking an awkward step backwards towards the door, away from the queen, the lust receding from his mind.
“Continue to study it,” she murmured, opening her eyes and tracing a pattern on the glass with the tip of her long, tapered fingers. “Put my sons on it.”
“Your Majesty?” he asked meekly, wondering if she truly meant what he hoped she didn’t really mean. The thought of working with the Vespari twins filled him with even greater disgust then the thought of being fucked to death.
“Bring Adam and Auberon in,” she clarified, putting names to his nightmare.
Another whimper escaped, but he managed to sound relatively at ease with the mention of the two abominations. His hatred for them had fed his obsession and he knew their schedule, almost down to the minute. “They will be leaving Paris within a week, but they are scheduled to return to the Eastern division. They are not due back any time soon; ….”
“No, I will have them here,” she said quietly.
“Yes,” he bowed. “I will send for them and give them the information as soon as….”
“Very good, slave,” she purred, turning around to face him, her black eyes fathomless in her white face. “Instruct them to deal with it if it becomes necessary to do so.”
“Of course, Your Majesty,” he murmured, feeling that he might yet make it out of there alive. “Is there anything else?”
“Give them all of the information you have,” she demanded, taking away the secrecy and anonymity he had relished. Worse, he had to open his research up to the Vespari twins. “Allow them access to everything in your department.”
“But….” he began to protest; one glance at the queen’s face ended any and all thoughts of rebelling on the spot. He simply nodded once. “Of course.”
“And slave?” she said in her smooth, deadly voice that promised all kinds of bloody retribution should he fail. “Find this wrinkle and smooth it out.”
“Of course,” he muttered, bowing low, keeping his eyes on the floor so he wouldn’t have to look into the terrible beauty of her face, her wholly black and alien eyes. “Your Majesty.”
*****
Stephen Lincoln walked out of the suite, his legs visibly shaking; two decades of hard work and dedication nearly came to an end because of some fuckup in the Bio-Fabric. Worse, he nearly came just being in the Queen’s presence and it wasn’t his fault. He only wanted to see his beloved Gloria again; everything he did was for that purpose. Yet he was still hardly any closer to her than he was when she “died” over twenty years ago. Damn them for refusing to take him as well back then; now he was too old to be of use to those selfish pricks. And now he almost died because of something beyond his control.
Strolling through the halls as he made his way back to his laboratory, thoughts whizzing through his head, he came to the conclusion that he was going to have to solve this mystery himself. That way he would be able to request a favor, no demand a favor; demand the right to see his beloved Gloria once more. His lips curved into a wry smile; perhaps this hiccup could actually prove useful. But first he would have to deal with the Vespari twins.
His features morphed into a grimace at the thought of those two. He knew that one of them had been responsible for his wife’s demise, he just hadn’t discovered which one. Yet. From what he knew of the twins, though, he was leaning towards Auberon, who seemed more rebellious than the ever-reliable Adam. Auberon's records proved his impetuousness and irresponsibility on any number of occasions, so taking a pregnant woman would hardly have been anything new.
Thank God the child survived unharmed, though it might have been for the best had she perished alongside her mother. Or instead of Gloria. Maybe if Gloria had been able to receive treatment she would not have succumbed to the lure of becoming a Calix.
“Oh, Gloria,” he mused softly, entering his sacred laboratory, where he could someday find a cure for what Apocritae did to humans, what they created; where he would find a way to bring Gloria back. Damn it; in another week or so, the twins would be interfering in his life once more. Glaring at the beakers and lab equipment, he decided he needed to come up with another plan.
*****
“Cel, do you have any extra tampons?” Kim asked Sunday morning, holding her stomach as cramps ate away at her belly. She crossed the room and lay on the mattress next to her friend, grabbing the comforter and burrowing under it.
“Sure,” Celeste smiled, grabbing a piece of paper to mark off where she stopped. Setting the book down, she slid out of bed, padded over to her dresser and pulled out an unopened box before making her way back. “I haven’t started mine yet so you can use as many of these as you need.”
“I thought we were synchronized,” Kim mused, grabbing the box and glancing up at Celeste with a little bit of confusion.
Celeste’s lips parted in a smile as she crawled back onto the bed, under the still-warm covers, “Is that like a new Olympic sport? Synchronized bleeding?”
“Ha ha,” Kim muttered, not wanting to leave the comfort of Celeste’s bed. “You know what I mean; we’ve always had our periods at the same time. Always.”
“I just recently started a new job,” Celeste said with a nonchalant shrug, resting her hand over her abdomen, knowing the true reason that her monthlies had not started, even without the benefit of a little stick and a bit of pee. She had known since late Friday night, the moment the embryo implanted itself in her womb after its long journey; she had felt it. It had been a huge relief to realize she wasn't the one who wasn't human; that it was the baby.
All of the symptoms, her heightened sense of smell, could all be attributed to the Apocritum baby in her womb. A peaceful smile graced her lips at the thought; while being pregnant with an Apocritum baby was impossible it was still better than not being human.
"Are you sure you're okay?" she asked doubtfully.
“I’m fine, Kim,” Celeste grinned. “Really, truly, I am. And I don’t want you worrying about me anymore.”
“Well, I can’t promise I won’t worry,” Kim told her. “You’re like a sister to me, Cel; it’s my job to look after you.”
“And I appreciate it,” Celeste smiled warmly, grateful for her friend. “It’s just been stressful adapting to a new job and all but in a good way.”
“Ah,” Kim nodded with understanding, still holding the box and still not wanting to move. Groaning, she squeezed her eyes shut, “Maybe I should get a new job so I can have a break from this agony.”
Celeste laughed again, resting her cheek against the top of Kim’s head, “Don’t you just love being a girl?”
“Most days,” Kim grinned. “Just not when I’m bleeding to death.”
“I’m so not ready for motherhood,” Kim quickly protested, finally sliding off the bed. Staring down at Celeste, she shook her head and smiled ruefully, “I’m having too much fun being a girl. What about you? Do you want to have kids?”
Celeste swallowed, her eyes widening at Kim’s innocent question. Before she could answer, though, Kim laughed, “Of course, in order to have kids, you’re going to have to have sex again and you decided that that was out of the question.”
Celeste offered a tentative smile, “Perhaps.”
“Well, at least it’s a reason to find a fuck buddy,” Kim said, raising her eyebrow knowingly. Walking out the room, she said over her shoulder, “But not for a few years, I think.”
Grabbing her book, Celeste burrowed beneath her covers once again, willing herself to get lost in the story so as not to deal with anything that was in her life right now: not her uniqueness, not Adam the Apocritum, and definitely not the baby that absolutely should not be in her womb but was. Reading the same sentence that she must have read at least a dozen times already, she came to the not-so-startling realization that her mind was otherwise occupied.
With a sigh, she placed the book next to her on the pillow and closed her eyes, wondering how in the name of all that was holy she could be pregnant and so happy to be so. Being that there was no doubt in her mind of her status, she wondered what the baby was going to look like, if she was going to look like her daddy or take more after her mom. Smiling to herself, Celeste rubbed her flat belly, grateful for at least some part of Adam; even if such a piece should not exist. She was just glad it did.
*****
“We’ve been ordered to return to the main Hive by the Queen,” Adam said as he walked into Auberon’s bedroom. Reclining on his bed, Auberon glanced up with an annoyed expression and a raised eyebrow. Adam answered the unasked question. “Apparently there’s a situation that requires our attention.”
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