Chiromancist (Seven Forbidden Arts Book 8)

by Charmaine Pauls

  “Fuck, Sky,” he growled, releasing her lips. “I’m going to come in your pussy.”

  “Yes.”

  “Come with me. Touch yourself.”

  She let go of his shoulders to push her hand between their bodies, pressing a finger on her clit.

  “Play with it,” he said, urgency infusing in his tone.

  She rubbed a slow circle over the nub of nerves.

  “Harder.” He thrust his cock over and over into her body. “I’m too damn close.”

  “Bono,” she cried when her release started building.

  He gritted his teeth and grunted. “Pinch it for me, baby, just like you like it.”

  The minute she obliged, her orgasm exploded. It held her on the crescendo of a contraction that lasted several seconds. Only when the wave broke, did he allow his own release to fill her body. He groaned loudly and drove harder, burying himself as deep as he could go. Leaning forward, he rested his face in her neck, covering her skin with kisses.

  “You drive me crazy.” He bit lightly into her flesh, sending a shiver down her spine.

  They stayed like that until they’d both caught their breaths. He freed his cock and carried her to the bed, positioning her on her hands and knees with his shirt hitched up over her hips.

  “So hot,” he mused, rubbing his palms up and down her inner thighs while his seed dribbled from her body. “I can’t get enough of seeing my cum in your pussy.”

  She flushed at the vivid description, but damn, it was hot.

  “Stay,” he said in an authoritative tone.

  He disappeared and returned with a box of tissues, cleaning her meticulously. When he was done, she started to get up, but he prevented her with a hand on her lower back. “I’m not done.”

  Something cold covered her labia and filled her pussy.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, looking back at him from over her shoulder.

  “I got you an anesthetic cream. I’m afraid I went overboard. This’ll dull the pain.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Now you are.” He emphasized it with a soft smack on her ass before pulling the shirt down.

  When she rolled into a sitting position, she came face to face with his semi-hard cock. His shaft hung long and heavy from the opening of his jeans, so masculine and powerful her mouth watered to taste him. Before she had time to touch him, he zipped himself up and offered her a hand.

  “I’m afraid our breakfast may be cold,” he said with an apologetic smile. “Sit your butt down at the table. I’ll be right back.”

  She sat down on the corner bench while he carried their breakfast inside and dished up.

  “I’ll make coffee,” she offered.

  “You’ll do nothing of the kind.” He gripped her fingers and kissed her hand. “You sit. I’ll get the coffee.”

  While she washed in the basin, he took care of the dishes and tidied the kitchen. By the time she was dressed, he had taken a cold shower under the garden hose. Buttoning up his creased shirt, he looked around the nightstand. Her heart tightened in her chest, knowing what he was looking for.

  He lifted the lamp. “My watch.”

  She walked over and went down on her knees. Lifting the kitchen towel, she said, “Here it is.” She crossed her fingers behind her back and uttered the lie. “I must’ve knocked it down.”

  Wordlessly, he secured it to his wrist, then gripped her shoulders and pulled her to her feet. “I don’t like to see you on your knees, not unless it’s to suck my cock, okay?”

  She nodded, working her lip between her teeth.

  “I have to go,” he said with regret. “Ready? I’ll give you a lift.”

  “You go. I have some things to take care of.”

  He planted a chaste kiss on her lips and pulled away, but he didn’t let go of her shoulders. He seemed to fight an internal battle. After another second, he dropped his arms. “See you later.”

  She couldn’t tell him another lie, so she said instead, “I have something for you, too.” Taking a key from a box on the shelf, she placed it on his palm and folded his fingers around it.

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll know when the time is right.” She started to wiggle the ring from her finger. “You should hold onto this.”

  “No.” He caught her hand. “It’s yours. Don’t take it off. Ever.”

  Her tears threatened to spill over. She couldn’t speak for the fear that her voice would break. With a last kiss, he left, leaving behind a strange emptiness. She stood on the spot until she heard the engine of his bike, and then she pulled herself back into action. There was much to be done.

  Her first stop was at an underground dealer, someone she knew thanks to the club. It wasn’t hard for her to convince the man she was there on Doumar’s order. He handed over the homemade explosive with her guarantee that Doumar would settle the bill at the end of the week. Next, she called Godfrey.

  “Do you have it?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Meet me at the aquarium in an hour. Come alone. I’ll take care of Doumar.”

  An hour later she got off the tram and entered the sea aquarium. Godfrey waited in the hydrozoans room, facing a floor to ceiling tank filled with different species of jellyfish. It was early, and there were few visitors. Except for them, the room was empty. She walked up and stopped next to him.

  “Did you know the jellyfish is the only immortal creature?” he asked.

  “No.”

  He pointed at a transparent, dome-like specie with multiple tentacles. “Turritopsis dohrnii. That one over there is a Laodicea undulata, and this one is an Aurelia. They are capable of reverting to a sexually immature stage after having reached sexual maturity as a solitary individual. This process can go on indefinitely, rendering the jellyfish biologically immortal. Of course, when these three species reach sexual maturity, they prey on other jellyfish. Ingenious, isn’t it? This way, they rid nature of the weaker of their race, until only the immortal will remain. A world-wide silent invasion, to quote the brilliant scientist, Dr. Maria Miglietta from the Smithsonian Tropical Marine Institute.”

  “Is this your plan? Worldwide silent invasion?”

  He turned to face her. “Only the strongest have the right to survive. We need to get rid of the lesser species who serve no purpose other than to diminish our resources. The human race multiply like rabbits with no regard for the future of their planet or the survival of their own species.”

  “How do you propose to do that?”

  “Have you heard of quantumancists?”

  “Their existence is said to be a myth.”

  “Jellyfish have roamed the seas for more than seven hundred million years, making them the oldest multi-organ animal. No wonder they’ve mastered immortality. Quantumancists have been around much longer than that.”

  “You believe quantumancists have the secret to immortality, like vampires.”

  “Vampires don’t age, but they can die. There’s a difference. What I’m talking about is transdifferentiation, a process of renewing damaged or dead tissue. Art practitioners have different stem cells to those of humans. If transplanted into a human, it can kick start the process of transdifferentiation, but you need seven unique cells to complete the chain.”

  “The seven arts,” she said as the realization hit her.

  “Exactly. I know this because I tested the transplant on my son. Unfortunately, the experiment was a failure, because we were missing one cell.”

  “Mine?” she said, her throat closing up in growing concern.

  “Yes. I’ve managed to extract cells from pyro, hydro, aero, scapuli, geo, and necro cell donors, but we’re yet to acquire the chiro cell.”

  “What will happen when you have all seven?”

  “I’ll become a quantumancist.”

  She reeled in shock. “That’s why Bono’s team is trying to stop you. Becoming a quantumancist will make you like—a—a god.”

  “My life has been ded
icated to the research of immortality, and Cain Jones is here to make sure the world doesn’t learn of my big discovery. My purpose is not to destroy the world, Miss Val. It’s to save it from self-destruction.”

  “What are you asking of me?”

  “When Jones and his team are dead, nothing will stand in the way of my victory. You will give me a cell, and I will become God. This is why I saved your life when I gave Doumar the serum. You see, before my scientists found the cure, all mothers of seven arts babies died in birth. I believe it’s all part of the bigger quantumancist plan to control your kind, to ensure you don’t overbreed, or it will be too easy for clever people like me to harvest your cells.”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not if you want your son back. Work for me, and you’ll have your child and everything else your heart desires. You’ll be the most powerful woman on earth. You’ll have your vengeance on Doumar and every other weak human man. We’ll wipe them out, and make a clean and better universe. Together, we’ll rule the world. I’m not the bad guy, Miss Val. I’m the hero who’s going to save the planet.”

  He was nothing short of being deranged. Telling him so, would only get her killed. Forcing a smile, she said, “How is it going to work? How do you extract a cell?”

  “I’ll only need a small piece of tissue. You won’t feel more than a prick on your finger.”

  “When do you want to do it?”

  “First things first.” He held out his hand. “The chip?”

  “On one condition. I want to be there.”

  “Doumar will be there. He insisted. No need for you to witness the massacre.”

  “I need to be there.”

  “You want to look into Mr. Black’s one eye as he dies?”

  “I owe it to him.”

  “Very well. As you wish.”

  Reaching inside her bag, she took out the pen and placed it on his palm.

  His fingers closed tightly around it. “Thank you.”

  “When are you taking Jones out?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  So soon?

  He turned back to the tank and said with a disinterested tone, “I’ll send for you and Doumar.”

  Having been dismissed, she walked to the exit. At the door, his voice paused her.

  “It’s a glorious moment, Miss Val. You’ve just saved your son’s life.”

  “I know,” she said, and then she turned and left quietly.

  Just a few more hours, and all of this will be over. She had to hold onto that and to the belief that Niels would be saved.

  At the club, Doumar waited in the door, Diamond at his side. From the way his left eye twitched as he looked at her, she knew something was up.

  She stepped inside and passed him warily. “Sorry I’m late. I handed the chip over to Godfrey.”

  “Yeah, he called.” He shoved a hand into his pocket. “So, if you got the chip it can only mean you fucked him.”

  There was nothing to say. She could only stare at him.

  “How many times?”

  She closed her eyes and looked away. “Doumar, please.”

  “Look at me!”

  Preparing herself for the worst, she turned her face back to him. His eyes narrowed and simmered. It took her a moment to realize that they were brimming with tears. His arm lifted, but instead of hitting her, he cupped her face. They stood like that for an awkward moment before he dropped his arm and stalked to the hallway.

  At the door, he looked back at her from over hunched shoulders. “I’ve put out clothes for you. Get ready. Godfrey’s waiting. The action’s about to start.”

  A sick feeling settled in her stomach. “He said not until tomorrow.”

  He uttered a snide laugh. “I guess he changed his mind.”

  Chapter Eleven

  After briefing the team, Bono checked on the heli, had lunch, and drove back to Sky’s place with the spare key to her caravan in his pocket. He had a phantom itch that wouldn’t stop. Something felt off.

  Inside, he started searching for the lock where the key she’d given him would fit. It could be a key to something hidden anywhere, but his gut told him he’d find the answer here. Besides, it was an old-fashioned key, the ornate kind that didn’t fit safety deposit boxes or lockers.

  It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. The key belonged to a pirate-like trunk at the bottom of her bed. It turned without difficulty, meaning it had been frequently used. He lifted the lid and looked inside. The contents took him by surprise. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it wasn’t this. He took out the toys, regarding them from all angles. The realization hit him like a boomerang between the eyes. Of course. Why hadn’t he seen that one coming?

  Sky had a child.

  Five toys. One for each birthday. Five years old.

  Doumar’s child.

  It made sense. She’d said she hadn’t slept with Doumar in five years. The fucker had made her pregnant on purpose. That was his hold on Sky. That time when she’d kissed Doumar in front of him, it was to protect her son and maybe even him, Bono, from Doumar. The black and blue marks on her fragile body … she’d taken a fucking beating to protect him.

  Cold fury rushed through his veins. All the more reason to make Doumar suffer before he dies. He reached for the stack of envelopes in the corner. The top one was addressed to him. The rest were addressed to a Niels. He flipped through them quickly. One for each week of the year. That lousy son of a bitch. Sky wouldn’t have written letters if she saw her child. Doumar was keeping him away from her. That was why she’d do anything Doumar demanded.

  Impatiently, he tore open the envelope with his name on it. His fingers shook as he took out the single sheet of paper. The further he read, the bigger his rage became. Cain and Joss had to see this. He crumpled the piece of paper in his fist and rose. He was at the door when his phone rang. It was Joss.

  “Our security has been breached,” the team leader said in a tight voice. “We’re blowing up the building. Where are you?”

  “At the trailer park.”

  “Meet us at the helipad.”

  “Got it.”

  He hung up and got onto his bike, riding with the speed of a mad man, racing for life and death.

  ~ * ~

  Sky sat next to Godfrey in the back of his motorboat. Outwardly, she appeared calm, but inside she was shaking. Doumar was steering. The sun was already setting. Godfrey had insisted on a long, drawn-out celebration lunch after which he kept them waiting several more hours while he took care of business.

  “What prevents those black magic witches from using their art on us?” Doumar had asked during their lunch.

  Godfrey had lit a cigar and dragged on it before replying, “A gas will be released in the aircraft once the doors are sealed. Thanks to their scapulimancist, I’ve discovered that a drug concocted from magic mushrooms renders their art impotent. They won’t be able to lift a finger.”

  “If you say so,” Doumar had replied.

  Godfrey had reached over and taken her hand. A sharp prick had made her cry out. She’d lifted her hand to see her finger bleeding.

  “My cell sample,” he’d said with a grin. “The rest is with my wife in Brazil.” He’d placed the tube pen in his pocket. “When this one gets to my lab, the world will be saved.”

  Sky shivered as the warmth of the day evaporated. It felt colder on the water. The light of the dying day fell in a musky rose on the mirror-smooth surface of the canal. When they passed the old parliament, her stomach contracted into a tight ball.

  Seemingly sensing her anguish, Godfrey patted her hand. “You’ll see your son soon.”

  At the words, Doumar glanced at them, his expression saying otherwise.

  Up ahead was the bridge where they docked and waited. On cue, an explosion rocked the building on the canal front a few miles ahead. Sky watched with growing dread as a motorbike and two SUV’s parked and the occupants exited. They ran for the helipad, Bono in the lead.
The blades started turning as the last of the group piled inside.

  The helicopter lifted and tipped. The terrible sound of a malfunctioning alarm coming from inside the helicopter sounded on the communication device Godfrey held in his palm. A small explosion ripped the blades apart.

  Smiling, Godfrey got to his feet. Doumar grabbed her arm and jerked her up, pushing her behind Godfrey to land. As they approached the craft, Joss pointed a weapon in their direction. From up the road, people with Medusa posters stormed the craft, throwing rotten tomatoes and cabbage at the windows.

  Godfrey fitted an earpiece. “Hello, Cain. I don’t have much to say, but I’m going to enjoy hearing your screams.” He took a box of matches with a Black Lily emblem from his pocket, struck a match, and threw it on the ground where the protesters had sprayed their fuel. A small, blue flame leapt into the air.

  Doumar’s fingers cut into her arm. “Watch,” he said, placing his earpiece in her ear, “and listen.”

  She focused on Bono’s face and felt for the detonator in her pocket, keeping her finger on the trigger button. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, lifting it into the air.

  “No!” Bono’s voice came to her clear through the system. He pressed his palm on the glass of the hatch, a plea in his eye. “Don’t do it, Sky. The situation is not what it seems. You’ll blow us all to pieces.”

  Godfrey jerked around, staring at her with surprise.

  Doumar took a step back. “You conniving cunt.”

  “Don’t move.” She looked between Godfrey and Doumar. “Throw your weapons on the ground.”

  Pandemonium broke out under the protesters as they realized the danger and crushed each other in a stampede to get away.

  Godfrey’s face contorted in cold fury, while Doumar looked at her with hatred as they threw their pistols at her feet.

  “This is the only way,” she said.

  “You’ll not only kill yourself, but all of us, too,” Bono said. “The fuel tank is full.”