by Casey Wyatt
The storm lasted about fourteen hours. By the time it was over, I was well-kissed and thoroughly sated. I hadn’t been this blissed out. . . well, ever.
The dark voice of doubt warned me to guard my heart. Ian could hurt me now. I told my inner nanny to shut the hell up.
“I think it’s time we ventured outside.” Ian pressed me tight against his body. He sighed contentedly. “Maybe in another minute.”
I relished the moment too. Once we returned, finding privacy at base camp would be difficult. Too soon I heard myself say. “Let’s do it.”
We reluctantly untangled ourselves. Regret filled me.
Ian stroked the side of my cheek, then planted a light kiss on my lips. “Things will work out, Cherry. You’ll see.”
He climbed into the front seat and studied the dash. After a thoughtful few minutes, he typed a series of commands into the hovercraft’s computer. The barrier hissed, then retreated.
Bright sunshine burst through making me squint. “You’d think after such heavy wind, the landscape would seem different.”
“Look down.” Ian hopped out of the craft, shovel in hind.
Criminy. The entire downwind side of the hovercraft and the shipping container were buried in soil. I couldn’t complain. On The Scale of Cosmic Suckiness, it could have been a lot worse.
When I pointed this out to Ian, he chuckled in agreement. “Right you are. It could be shit instead.”
That’s the spirit.
Hours later, with my muscles screaming for me to stop already, we finished shoveling. During the trip back to base camp, he taught me the craft’s general operation: how to access the computer, navigate off the GPS and steer the thing. We switched sides and I drove the last quarter of the trip.
Good news is we didn’t crash. The bad news – the camp was wrecked.
“Bloody hell.” Ian said, head swiveling from side to side taking in the destruction. Most of the domes had sustained wind damage, large holes punctured the sides. A few had lost support beams and had partially collapsed. The dome’s hamster tubes were in various states of disconnection. Either completely torn away or ripped in a patchwork of tears.
I landed on the outskirts. The whole colony worked outside, clearly in repair mode.
Louis ran over, “This was the worst storm we’ve had to date. The current structures are inadequate. We are low on building materials. If this happens again anytime soon, we’re screwed.”
“Thanks for your sunny assessment and positive outlook, Louis,” I steered him away from the workers. Pearl was among them. Filthy and bedraggled, she wore pissed off like a new suit.
I pretended not to notice. That way, I didn’t have to go dominate on her. She hadn’t openly challenged me. And she could have been glaring at Louis. Or angry she was on Mars, dirty and performing manual labor.
Hell, I could understand the feeling. I made a mental note, to find a way for everyone to have some sort of fun, otherwise morale would go down the toilet.
“Louis, in the interest of everyone’s mental state, please deliver bad news somewhere more private.”
Louis looked crestfallen, but he didn’t argue or disagree.
“Where is Prior?” Ian asked. “I don’t see him out here anywhere.”
“He’s over in the main dome working out cement formulas with Marron.”
“I think I’ll join them. I know a thing or two about rocks and cement.” Ian gave me a wink and strode off. We had decided to refrain from displays of public affection in front of the others. Turned out to be a wise decision. Pearl tracked him with a feral gaze, then looked up and gave me a cold smile.
“Cherry!” I turned around to see Nina, formerly the Naughty Nurse, running my way.
Jonathan’s voice rang in my head, make them show proper respect. He was a firm believer in following propriety. He allowed exceptions to his rules in private. “Nina, how do address me now?”
Nina bared her neck, “My blood is your blood.” Filth ringed her throat like a red necklace. Like I would drink from that. “Sorry, Sire.”
I tapped my foot.
“We received a message from the ship last night.” Nina, our resident nurse, had volunteered to learn about the ship’s communications systems since there wasn’t much call for medical attention among the undead.
My ears perked up. “From Jay?”
“No, Sire. A name I didn’t recognize – Kasia. She said to tell you, find the caves. And snap to it.”
“Have you told anyone else this message?”
“No, Sire.”
“I order you not to discuss this with anyone. If you receive any more messages from Kasia, come and find me immediately.”
When I arrived in the main dome, which was surprisingly undamaged, Ian and Prior were huddled over a large blueprint, scribbling formulas. Louis stood nearby, attention absorbed in paperwork.
“Prior, why is this dome okay?” I asked standing behind Ian. Enticing memories of our earlier intimacy flooded my mind, tightening my nipples. Dampness pooled between my thighs. I pressed my fingernails into my palm.
Ian’s back straightened. His thoughts seeped into my brain. He wanted to pin me to the floor, tear off the red jumper and ….
How the hell—
“Ms. Cordial? Are you listening to me?” Prior’s irritated voice shifted my attention back.
“Mr. Prior, I would appreciate it, if you did not scold me like a headmaster,” which I suspected was his former occupation, “please continue your report. I am listening to you.”
Ian let out a soft snort, but otherwise remained silent.
Prior cleared his throat. “As I was saying, the main dome was constructed with new material designed to withstand Martian windstorms. Last night was the first time it was put to the test and I’m happy to say, it passed with flying colors.”
I stared at the dome’s gray interior. “This is from the ship.” Did we vampires have any technology that didn’t come from Kasia, the Wonder Ship?
“Why, yes,” Prior didn’t even bother to hide his surprise. “How did you know?”
“I’m not as stupid as my profession would lead you to believe. I was an educated, aristocratic lady at one time Mr. Prior.” One whose family wouldn’t have given a person of Prior’s social status the time of day.
And herein lay the crux of the problem. Old, human hang-ups didn’t vanish overnight, if ever. Prior clearly disliked me because of something. I had thought it was because I was a stripper. Now, I suspected my rich family upbringing may have been part of the problem. He seemed the J. Edgar Hoover type – a dossier on friends and enemies. See, he was a total creep.
“Total wanker,” Ian muttered under his breath. I shot him a dark look. Damn what he had said about mind reading. Or emotional sensing. Whatever. I wasn’t sure I liked this kind of familiarity. It was too much like the sire bond I had worked so hard to control.
“Please accept my apologies, Ms. Cordial,” said Prior with a tilt of the head, hinting more of FU than sorry.
I took a deep cleansing breath, which was silly since I didn’t need to breathe, but it calmed me anyway. “Do we have enough of this material to use for the rest of the colony?”
“Possibly. If we consider reinforcing the structures with cement, then we can make our limited supply of this material go further. We’ve discovered we can mix the alien matter with other things like sand or metal to create stronger buildings.”
I held up a finger. “Wait. You need water to make cement.”
“Correct, Ms. Cordial.” Prior beamed with an expression that said I had graduated to being smarter than a fence post. “We have teams out right now preparing to extract Martian permafrost. Again, thanks to newly discovered technology, we can replicate the water molecules and increase our supply.”
More ship tech, pawned off as Prior’s genius. “Why don’t you use the ship’s technology to duplicate the building material?”
“We haven’t progressed enough to understand every a
spect of the science. So far, we’ve successfully replicated simple molecular structures. To date…”
My skin itched. Either from Prior’s non-stop blathering or from the dirt coating my skin. I cut in, “Louis, are my quarters still standing?”
Prior switched his attention to Ian and continued to discuss the merits of vampire technology. Poor Ian. I had to get clean before I hurt Prior. We needed the obnoxious jabber-jaw.
Louis appeared behind me. “You’re quarters are fine. I took the liberty of clearing out the shower room so you could clean off.” Past the point of caring if I was rude, I did an about face and walked away. Louis followed close on my heels.
A sour odor permeated the air as Louis and I entered what was left of the access tube leading to my quarters. Several zombies were engaged in repairs.
Louis wrinkled his nose. “Which one of you is molting?”
Molting? Sounded gross and I really didn’t care to know the details. I left Louis behind to deal with the guilty party.
After peeling off my dirty clothes and grabbing fresh ones, I tossed on a robe and tip-toed down to the shower room. The name is a bit of a misnomer. It implies running water, soap and luxurious cleanliness. None of those things happened in this space.
Instead, the “shower” was a type of torture chamber. Once inside the booth, a sonic cleaning device vibrated removing dirt from skin and hair. A series of concentric rings of energy passed vertically up, then down your body. In order for it to work effectively, I extended my arms over my head, gripping two straps for stability.
Why?
Because it tickled like hell, worse than any kind of tickle torture your demented Uncle Frank could ever inflict.
I howled with the laughter of the insane until crimson tears leaked out of my eyes, causing the machine to initiate another round of cleaning. Before I found myself standing there all day, I ended the session with a sharp verbal command. The final step, a spray of scented air, left me clean and smelling vaguely of flowers. Better than filthy and reeking of dirt.
I stood in front of a long mirror and brushed my hair until it gleamed. I twisted it up and off my neck with pins, making me appear more officious.
I made another mental note to self – find out from Kasia, if there were other clothes on the ship. Red hair, red uniforms and red earth. More red than a whore house. Which reminded me – I needed to locate a map and start searching for the caves. I tapped the stupid cuff bracelet, eerily quiet since we landed. “Do you have any other purpose than to drag me into portals?”
“Ms. Cordial? Are you ready to come out yet?” Louis’ muffled voice said through the door.
See, a girl can never get a moment to think. Not even on Mars.
~ * * * ~
About halfway through the day, I grew to believe repair work, while hard and dirty, would be preferable to sitting behind a desk besieged by numerous requests, sign-offs and disputes. We’d barely arrived and already I had paperwork? What on Earth or Mars for? I half expected an auditor to come through the door and request a look at my files.
Louis was no help. He dutifully recited the timeworn mantra of bureaucrats throughout the ages – that’s the way it’s always been done. I tossed the papers on his desk and stormed back into the cubby designated as my office. At least it had a door I could slam, in a wimpy metal barracks kind of way.
One by one, members of my family found time to visit me in the cubby. They offered their necks, which I politely declined, then each one presented a series of either complaints or requests. Some didn’t have a real purpose for visiting, only wanting reassurance from their sire.
The woes, mostly grievances about the primitive living conditions, I resolved by a creating The Improvement Committee or what I called them privately: the Complainers. The Complainer’s mission: come up with enhancement opportunities both short term and long range. My mother always believed, idleness was the Devil’s playground. This would give the whiners something to do.
The non-complainers, or Clingers, were placed in the newly minted, Morale Committee. Their job: brainstorm ways to make life more tolerable and to create a support group for likeminded individuals.
What’s the difference between the two groups? Not a whole heck of lot except their attitudes. In any case, it got them out of my office and made them responsible for owning their happiness. A nice mix of old world wisdom mixed with modern sensibilities. At least I liked to this think so.
If only my life were that simple.
The revenants and zombies also made their way into my office. Their concerns were nearly identical. I sorted them the appropriate committee. Quite easily done. The sooner everyone learned to get along the better.
One final petitioner remained at day’s end. Beckham provided me with a firsthand education on zombie molting. He stank of decay on a hot summer day. Large patches of skin and hair had flaked off. Newer, gray flesh lay underneath.
“So, how can I help you, Beckham?” I assessed the zombie, trying to place him with either the Complainers or Clingers. He stubbornly defied classification. It probably had something to do with a tray of seedlings he held on his lap. The plants were about four inches high, quite impressive growth. They must have been started on Earth and nurtured on the ship.
“I’m a Botanist,” he fidgeted, “but, I bet you guessed that.”
“Those are very impressive plants. How long did it take for you to grow them?”
He cleared his throat. “That’s why I’m here. I sowed the seeds last night.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
We stared at the tomato plants. Prior actually seemed a little scared since being confronted with a phenomena he couldn’t explain. Ian and Louis talked quietly between themselves. Harmony appeared not to give a rat’s ass and read the reports in her folder.
When Beckham first displayed his plants, Prior reacted as if he had been presented with a six foot tall, vampire eating Venus Flytrap. “Not possible,” he muttered over and over, until Ian poked him in the ribs.
I wished Jay was there. He’d be delighted. No doubt full of theories. The satellite receiver had been badly damaged in the storm, so until I found Kasia’s Cave of Wonder, we had no alternate way to communicate with the ship. I imagined Jay would be worried and attempting to find a way down. Hell, he might decide to fling himself out in a bubble.
“Beckham, tell us about the seeds,” Ian suggested.
While the hapless zombie outlined his planting procedures, lust washed over me. Psychic fingertips teased the skin along my exposed neck, trailing down my collarbone. Heat seared my breasts, then settled on my nipples. Warm wetness pooled between my thighs.
My head jerked up. Ian mouthed the words, “Later.”
I gripped the edge of the table to steady my quivering knees. Thank goodness vampires weren’t capable of blushing.
“Cherry, I suggest pairing Beckham with Marron. Isn’t he a scientist?” Ian asked, innocence on his face.
No fair. I would make him pay next time we were alone. “Yup. Great idea,” I squeaked. The psychic fingers skimmed the top of my panties, sending another spasm into my hot core. Anticipation heightened my need. Slow exquisite pressure crept closer to my clit. Then he touched me there. Sweet mother of—
“Are you feeling well, Ms. Cordial?” said Prior, his attention still fixed on the mutant tomato plants.
“Fine,” I gritted through my teeth. “Louis!” I shouted, startling my assistant. “What’s on the schedule for me today?”
Ian smiled broadly. My clitoris throbbed. I clenched my thighs together to ease the ache further inflaming the sensation.
Louis listed a series of appointments and one activity – attend the Moon Clan’s dedication ceremony. “We’ll attend. Right now!”
On the way out I heard Prior say, “She’s very dedicated to her job.”
Ian responded, “You have no idea, mate.”
Bastard.
~ * * * ~
Once out of the dome, the psychic love
connection severed.
Louis studied me, a half smile on his face.
“What?” I snapped.
He shook his head, “Maybe it’s the light, but your face is flushed.”
I reached for my face and confirmed the heat on my cheeks. “Vampires don’t blush.” Denial was a beautiful thing. “Which way is this temple? And if materials are so scarce why did Prior authorize it?”
“He didn’t. They’re building a stone foundation. And they have carte blanche from the benefactor to use whatever materials they find on Mars.”
I bet that drove Prior’s need for order crazy.
The Moon Clan’s temple was already under construction. Ringed in stone, the ankle high foundation was partially submerged in the dusty Martian terrain. Revenants clad in orange robes worked in units of four, fetching, passing, and stacking the stone.
Harmony, as head priestess, stood in the center of the circle, hands raised in worship. Her eyes tracked our approach, yet she continued with her prayer.
While waiting I studied the Martian sky. A misshapen moon pockmarked with a large crater hung shockingly close to the horizon. It reminded me of a dough ball with a thumb print.
“Phobos,” Harmony informed me. “It circles Mars three times a day. Its brother Deimos appears less frequently. Thank you for coming.” I grudgingly admired Harmony’s cleanliness. Not a grain of dirt clung to her pearlescent skin. Grime already coated my neck, wrists and ankles.
“We appreciate the invitation.” I didn’t want to miss a chance to see a ritual unknown to vampire society. “What do you need us to do?”
Harmony draped a wreath of braided grass, intertwined with tiny stones and bits of either shell or bone around our necks. “We shall stand in a triangle. Each point dedicated to blood, flesh, and spirit.” A triangle had been etched in dirt and filled with smooth white stones, which must have originated on Earth. So far I hadn’t seen anything on Mars that clean or white.
After we were arranged in the appropriate fashion, a pair of priestesses approached. The taller of the two, with elfin features and dark hair, held earthen jars in each hand. The second, more buxom, female held clear glass orbs. Harmony held out two crimson stones, motioning for me to take them. The dark haired priestess handed Louis the jars, while Harmony palmed the orbs.
