Watcher's Web

by Patty Jansen

  She searched for his thoughts, but a wall had gone up around him—to protect himself from her, she realised. “Don’t worry. I’m controlling it now. No more sparks or anything.” She laughed, meeting intense dark eyes, the irises so black that the edges of the pupils showed up only as a ghost of a ring.

  “I still don’t think . . .”

  “Please, I need to do this.”

  He closed his eyes, blew out a forceful breath through his nose and leant back against the tree, his chest heaving.

  “I won’t harm you.”

  Slowly, he undid the fastening of his collar and pulled aside the fabric. His hands trembled; a vein throbbed in his neck.

  Jessica leant closer. She breathed humidity. Then the smell hit her . . . fresh rain in a forest, running hand in hand with a lover, rolling in the grass. Blood throbbed in her cheeks. The glow spread down her chest.

  She leant closer still, breathing on his pale skin. His curls tickled over her cheek.

  His voice rumbled close to her. “Are you convinced we’re of the same people?”

  She nodded, unwilling to withdraw. The glow now crept over her shoulders, down her arms. “Can I feel your back?” Her voice sounded hoarse.

  “Oh no.” He slid a step sideways, holding up his hands again.

  “Please. I need to know if you have . . . those muscles over your back.”

  His dark eyes met hers, and seemed almost desperate, bewildered. She still received no images from his mind.

  Finally, he nodded. “Make it quick, then.” He looped his arms over his head.

  She reached behind him and ran her hands flat over his back, feeling the depression created by the V-shaped muscles. Saw herself standing before the mirror as twelve-year old girl, saw herself swimming through the eyes of someone else.

  He whispered, “Wait,” and took off his tunic. His skin, pale but firm, almost glowed in the dim light. Soft under her hands, the muscle tensed and relaxed, and tensed again. Just like hers. He stood perfectly still, his eyes closed, his chest heaving with deep breaths. Breathing her scent, like she breathed his. He let out his breath in a long hiss, lowered his arms and ran his hands over her back. His touch sent shivers through her.

  Her tunic was wet and dirty and clung to her shoulders when she tried to take it off. She wrestled it up as far as her chest before she realised what she was doing . . . outside . . . in the pouring rain.

  Daya gave a sheepish grin. “You better keep that on. They’re not keen on public nudity in this town.” But his hands slid over the naked skin on her back.

  She whispered, “It’s dirty.” Before turning away. The blood pounded in her ears. Rain ran down her forehead into her eyes. She rested her head on his shoulder.

  He mumbled, “We better go inside.”

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  He didn’t move except his hand, which drew small circles over her side in a mesmerising rhythm. His cheeks had gone red.

  Jessica turned her head towards his neck so his curls tickled in her face and her breaths were laced with his scent. The most beautiful thing she had smelled in her life. The only thing she ever wanted to smell for the rest of her life, most precious, most special, most—

  He traced his nose from the top of her head. Moist and warm, his tongue licked raindrops from her forehead, her brow, her nose. She turned her face up. He didn’t waste the opportunity. His wet and cool lips tasted like rain. His tongue pushed inside her mouth. A soft groan rumbled in his chest.

  Her body acted as of its own accord. She replied to his kiss with all the vigour she could muster. Arched her back so she pressed against him, raking her fingers through his hair, feeling his readiness through the thin fabric of his trousers.

  His mind-voice spoke inside her, Do you want to go inside?

  Jessica didn’t protest.

  23

  JESSICA OPENED one eye.

  A soft noise had startled her, as if someone was in her room.

  The first thing she saw was a very tall ceiling that was definitely not the one in her guesthouse room. There was a window in the room—very dirty. She lay on a bare mattress on a dusty and cracked mosaic floor. There were other mattresses around the perimeter of the room, where Pengali slept, rendered in shades of grey in the semidarkness.

  What the. . . ?

  Jessica pushed an elbow under her. Her stomach gave a protesting growl, bringing with it a surge of bile. Sweaty skin puckered into gooseflesh as a heavy and warm weight slid off her thigh: a male arm, which twitched with her movement.

  Daya. His eyelids relaxed and closed, his long eyelashes arranged in perfect sliver-moon crescents. Bluish light silvered the curve of his shoulder, moving slowly up-down-up-down with his deep breaths.

  A black tattoo of thorned branches encircled his upper arm. She hadn’t seen that last night. Then again, she hadn’t seen much at all.

  Hell, she didn’t remember half of what had happened last night. Only shards of images and fragments of conversation. They had gone inside the house, where a group of Pengali silently retreated. Daya had offered her a drink. The blue stuff was called zixas and its acrid smell hit her face like a cloud of chloroform. He had downed it in one gulp. Laughing with the effects of his maddening scent, she had tried to copy him, but the stuff was so strong she couldn’t help coughing. He had licked the coughed-up splatters from her face and chest. Hell, when had her shirt disappeared? It lay in the dust on the floor.

  The images. There was something about images they shared. Images in his mind, and hers. Something about soaring through clouds and thundering rivers, and her face, her hair backlit by golden sun.

  How had she ended up on her back on the mattress, his skin sweaty against hers?

  She breathed with him; her heart beat against his; his lips explored her naked skin.

  How could this have happened? I don’t even know who he is.

  And what were all the Pengali doing here, sleeping curled up on mats along the walls?

  A shiver went through her.

  She reached for her tunic, but as the fabric unfolded, an empty bottle tumbled out and rolled clang, clang, clang over the stone floor.

  Shit.

  Daya’s eyelids fluttered and opened. He looked around, confused, and smiled as his eyes met hers. Warmth flooded through her. Not her warmth.

  That’s how it happened. His mind addled hers. His smell clouded her senses. His blue drink had completed the task. She’d been his for the taking, and he had taken her.

  He pulled her closer. His mouth still tasted of that vile liquid. She wanted to push him away, but stroked his hair instead. Soft, gorgeous.

  If he noticed the confusion in her, he didn’t show it. His lips glistened when he broke the kiss. “Let’s get dressed and go.”

  Jessica stiffened and wanted to ask go where? But she was afraid of waking up the Pengali. She scrambled to her feet and yanked on her tunic.

  Even the corridor was full of Pengali, sleeping two or three to a mat. Seeing them brought uncomfortable memories. The Pengali featured in the happenings of last night. They’d come in, worshipped her; they had watched. In the dark, Jessica stepped across legs and bundles of clothes. Somewhere outside, a gutter overflowed.

  Daya opened the door to the courtyard.

  Raindrops made concentric circles in puddles. Clouds scudded over the city like grey-purple fluffs of cotton wool.

  The door rolled shut behind them.

  Only then did Jessica dare speak. “Where are we going?”

  “Out of here.” He sloshed through the puddles. “I have a unit at Hedron. You can stay with me.”

  A feeling of discomfort crept over her. “But I need a permit. That’s why I haven’t been able to leave so far. I was going to—”

  “Don’t worry about permits. I’ve got an override code.”

  “You . . .” Jessica gulped. This was all going way too fast for her. She still didn’t understand the rules that kept her here. If there were any such rules a
t all. Her brain felt as thick as porridge. That damn drink.

  Now at the door into the alley, he beckoned. “Come on, let’s go. There won’t be much time before we’re discovered. We really should have left last night, but . . .” A sheepish grin crossed his face. God, he looked gorgeous like that. His scent, the love in his eyes, the warmth in her mind that possessed her, soothed her . . .

  She shook it away and clamped her arms around herself. Get real. A man who said he’d known her all her life, but had never talked to her, who said he knew her parents, but lied to them, and then fed her some sort of drug so he could sleep with her.

  He spoke in a whisper. “Come. I love you so much it hurts. I’ve waited so long for this moment.”

  “Then why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “You don’t accept the apology I gave yesterday?”

  Jessica couldn’t remember an apology, just a lot of talk about things he had done wrong; a lifetime covered in five minutes before that smell had overwhelmed her senses.

  He tugged her arm. “Please come. If we’re to get out of here before anyone finds you—”

  Anyone. The soldiers—Iztho, who was going to help her get Union citizenship and then go home. The Pengali and the keihu women who still had a story and knowledge to share. “Leave? Just like this?”

  “Yes.”

  “And can you take me home, too?”

  “Your home is with me. Now come.”

  “And then what?” Where did he get the idea that because of one night spent together—

  “We’ll discuss it later, when we’re out of here.”

  “No—now. I want to know what’s going on. You . . . took advantage of me. You gave me this blue stuff that made me all dizzy and—”

  He held out his hands. “Don’t you feel the bond of kinship, the smell of sharing, of being the same? Didn’t I share my memories in your thoughts? Didn’t you ask me to take you? I didn’t fight you; you wanted it, too.”

  Memories of his smell clouded her. Throwing back her head, casting sweaty hair over her shoulders, while she sat astride him . . . She shuddered. “I was drunk, for God’s sake.”

  He crossed the sodden courtyard and took her in his arms, stroking hair out of her face. “I am still drunk. Drunk for you, drunk with happiness.”

  While he spoke, a string of memories assailed her: a metal door set in stone, sliding the lid off the basin and finding the baby inside, floating in a bath of green, his hands shaking as he dipped them in the green fluid, her limp body enmeshed in arcs of life energy and her piercing wail as she drew her first breath. That’s where he had found her, and saved her, and hidden her away for his own use.

  Clenching her jaw, Jessica gathered strands of energy and pushed them down the mind link. Stop that! “And that is a reason to assume that I belong to you? Just because you . . .” The words raped me were on her tongue, but he hadn’t really raped her. This was something else, something much deeper than that, for both of them. It scared her.

  She stared up into his eyes, their black depths swirling with longing. Just like last night. She remembered his beastly cry of pleasure when he spilled himself inside her. A cry of conquering, victory. Breath tickled over her face. His earthy scent enveloped her before warm lips met hers in a hungry kiss. For a moment, Jessica forgot her objections. She pulled him closer, shivers of desire running down her back.

  He released her, chest heaving. “We’ve got no time for this. You’ve got to come. We’re in danger here.”

  Jessica pushed him away with all the strength she could muster. “See, you’re doing it again!”

  “Doing what?”

  God—he was so addled he didn’t even notice. “Bewitching me with that smell. It makes me want to . . .” Rip off her clothes, and his, too. Throw him on the bed. Feel his tongue between her legs. Hear his laughter. Be thrown on the floor. Scratch and hit and bite him while he slammed deep into her. Revel in his conquering howl. Again and again. Until she bled and he cried and begged for forgiveness and they fell asleep in his other’s arms. And whatever else had happened last night. No, it wasn’t rape; if anything, he had more scratches and bruises than she did.

  A look of understanding came over his face. “It’s the scent. It’s hormonal and it drives you mad. You’ll get used to it.”

  And he expected her to come with him? Like this? He’d kill her within days, if she didn’t kill him first. “Please get away from me.”

  He grabbed her arm. “Come on! I swear you’ll get used to the scent. There is no time for this. Miran is after us. I almost ended up a prisoner there. Come with me before that Trader finds us here, or the soldiers he’s sent. If they do they’ll lock us up, or kill us.”

  Iztho, kill her? “He told me they would take me home.”

  “And you believe his promises?”

  “Why the hell shouldn’t I?”

  “Because I’ve seen what the Mirani are doing. I’ve just come from there. They use weapons powered by life energy. I saw it. I fired one. And they’re using us to get the energy. Please, for the last time: come with me.”

  “And what do you want with me?”

  If he caught her sarcasm, he didn’t show it. “We are Aghyrian. We can study our ancestors’ knowledge, rebuild our civilisation, our cities, rebuild our race. All of the other known Aghyrians are men. With you—”

  Blood rose to Jessica’s face. “So that’s what it’s all about? You’ve been following me all these years because you want me to be your breeding cow?” Wait until I tell you I’m infertile.

  He stared at her, his mouth open. When he spoke, his voice was soft.

  “Oh. I should have left you to be examined by researchers on Asto? Left you to die a painful death like Ivedra? Or I should have left you to face a prison sentence for Stephen Fitzgerald’s death? Is that what you wanted?”

  Jessica reeled back, choking. “You did—what?”

  “When that boy died because you lost control—”

  “He tried to rape me.”

  “You lost control. He died. You don’t want to know what I did to fix it up. That boy’s insides were cooked. The parents demanded a postmortem. I falsified all of it.”

  “You—what?” A wave of dizziness took hold of her. Deep inside, she’d always known that she’d been responsible. But I had no idea what I was doing. She felt the blood draining from her face.

  “Now come. There won’t be another chance to escape.”

  Jessica ducked to escape his grasping hand. Was he going to hold the threat to reveal her guilt over her head whenever she disagreed with him?

  “Regardless of what you think, you don’t own me. Leave me alone and stop bothering me.”

  She turned on her heel and ran out the gate.

  24

  JESSICA SPLASHED through ankle-deep puddles, kicking up sprays of water. The high walls and doors on either side of the alley blurred before her eyes. It was so dark today; with the thick cloud cover, everything ran into shades of grey and black.

  She charged around a corner, almost crashing into a group of Pengali. Although they sported the short haircuts of domestic servants, males and females wore only skirts and wreaths of white flowers.

  One of them held out a hand and whispered, “Anmi.”

  For a moment, Jessica felt like joining them in whatever they were celebrating, shoving a wreath of flowers on her head, stripping off her sodden clothes and dancing in the rain, showing her bruised and scratched body for all to see.

  See what he has done to me? He only wants me to be his breeding cow.

  But it wasn’t that simple. What he had done to her was deeper than that, and he was still there, in the core of her mind, a seed that would once more grow into passion, or violence. He was still listening.

  And I invited him in. It was the truth, and if she had a chance to go back in time, she would do it again. She’d had no other choice. His maddening scent still lingered in her clothes, begging her to go back. She wanted to go ba
ck.

  Tears flooded her eyes.

  The Pengali male extended his hand further.

  “Oh, just leave me alone.” Jessica ran on, down the street where more Pengali were setting up food stalls. Others had put out baskets with garlands made from white flowers. Others still had climbed up trees and were hanging out decorations.

  In the shops, young keihu women tried on white dresses. Pengali females sat on benches re-braiding each other’s hair.

  Some major festivity was in the works.

  In her mind, Jessica heard the thumping drums and the shouts and yells of the Pengali tribe. A small circle cleared in the heaving mass of striped and spotted bodies where a young male danced with Maire, bodies intertwined, moving to the beat.

  A hot rush came over her.

  . . . wet lips pushing hers apart, her hands sliding over soft skin, feeling the V-shaped depression in his back . . . his memories flowing through her while the earthy scent of his body enveloped her . . .

  She wanted him so badly.

  He only wants to use me.

  Jessica sank down on the pavement in an alley, knees drawn up against her chest. Water seeped into her underwear, the only place of her that was still dry. She didn’t care. She buried her face in her hands but tears wouldn’t come.

  Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  There were footsteps in the alley. A familiar deep voice rumbled, “Looks like I’ve found the little bat who flew away.” Iztho.

  His voice sounded like home, like cups of lukewarm tea taken in the civilisation of a colourful courtyard, like sumptuous dresses and talk of lessons and learning, promises of education, Union citizenship and returning to her parents. Civilisation, real help, reliability.

  He was alone like a big, wet, forlorn grizzly bear. No soldiers, no gun. Just a long-fingered hand with many glittering rings reaching out for her. Dark patches under his eyes stood out against sallow and pale skin.

  Jessica scrambled to her feet. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have . . .” Her voice would no longer cooperate.