Christophe stood next. My heart was fit to burst in joy at the sight of his handsome face.
I’d thought my ears were numb from the explosion until Rowena’s voice screeched, “Christophe! My baby!” and dashed past me. She launched herself through the ruined windows, oblivious to the jagged glass shards. When she stumbled and fell to her knees, she popped back upward into a run so fast I doubted she felt the gash on her thigh.
I started forward after her until Cyril groaned from the floor, “Wait, Bozena.”
Guilt pricked at me. In my rush to see my brother, my father, and his possible injuries had been forgotten. Izzy wasn’t wearing her scrubs anymore but she wordlessly volunteered to clear away the two-by-fours and sheetrock as if she were a real first responder. Dom did most of the heavy lifting. He helped Cyril sit upright and checked him for obvious injuries.
My father’s dark gaze shifted from himself to the flattened garden and air hissed through his teeth in the beginning of a growl as he pushed Dom’s offered assistance aside. “Move! I can get upright if you’ll jussst get out of my way.”
We all stood at once. Izzy chucked a chunk of split wood over her shoulder, “Whatever, man. You don’t have to tell me twice.”
Rowena’s confused protests drew all of our attention.
Her hands were raised in supplication, as if she weren’t sure if she should touch Christophe’s cheeks or wrap her arms around his neck. “What’s wrong, honey? Don’t you recognize your own momma?”
Christophe and—shit, I didn’t have a name for my mother besides ‘Mother’—okay, my mother, were now side by side in a crater that had once been the muck-filled koi pond. The bridge no longer existed. Now the excess amount of wood in the kitchen made sense.
My brother knocked Rowena’s hands away as she went in for a hug. His brows were drawn together in confusion. As I watched he turned away from Rowena to gaze at the green-skinned goddess for guidance.
Dom breathed out the question we were all thinking, “Why doesn’t he recognize Rowena?”
There was a clatter as Cyril pulled himself to a pain-hunched position behind me. In his natural shape he resembled a flour-coated ghoul.
Sibilant words issued from him without prompting. They sounded like a guess, not an answer. “If the sssituation on the other world required a permanent memory wipe to sssave hisss life…”
“Sa? Sa! Where are you?”
My mother’s voice was clarion clear. My ears still felt as if bees had made a hive in them but I could discern well enough how beautiful her words were. Images of sirens wailing into waves on foam-splashed rocks leapt to mind. Immediately I was filled with a desire to go to her.
Izzy held me back by an arm. An impulse hit me to strike at her. Reality swamped me in a cold deluge, Iz was my best and only friend. Why would I hurt her? The urge to run to my mother left me to be replaced by a rush of unease. I thought a tight band at Cyril, “Can she influence me?”
I needn’t have bothered to ask him. The information from the earlier learning session in the library was stored in my head. When I asked the question mentally it manifested without any bidding. The slaves had been bred for different purposes. Some planets were conquered by seduction rather than force. My mother was a biological construct meant to enchant prey. Beautiful and deadly—she could make you grin at the idea of genocide.
Cyril answered out loud, “I would advise treading lightly.” His eyes gleamed with a reflection of the daylight sky overhead. “She is not always herself, Bozena.”
Whatever that meant.
He raised his chin and winced with an arm over his stomach before he called, “Neith, we are in here!”
Okay, Neith? It sounded like teeth with an ‘n’ at the beginning. That word was a new one on me. Was it her actual name or another title? I intentionally asked my inner information bank this time and it came back with ‘goddess of war in ancient Egypt, protector of marriage, women and children’ as an answer. I was a freaking portable search engine. This had to be her name. The familiarity as it issued from Cyril’s lips hinted that direction at any rate.
When Neith bent inside the half demolished table nook, her movements appeared practiced and graceful. Unlike Rowena’s had been as she scrambled to Christophe moments earlier. Navy blue circles watched me with an unwavering interest. Her regard was too intense. I took a step backward and snatched at Izzy’s grime covered hand.
Neith paused. Her hair, which I had thought was carried by the breeze outside, curled and flexed on her shoulders and neck, alive.
Cyril straightened and moved with shuffling steps to offer her a stiff bow of welcome. “My Nut, why did you not draw in your power when you came through?”
She caressed her purple locks like a pet as her expression turned guarded. “They attacked without warning. Your sa and I barely escaped. Would you rather we died? I am most hurt.”
Funny, she didn’t sound hurt. Her tone was absentminded as if she were reading from a script that didn’t interest her. Cyril bowed again but kept his attention trained on her face. Watching her for a sign of something.
Neith made a clicking noise. I wasn’t sure how since her mouth didn’t move. Christophe approached as if summoned, with a weeping Rowena pulling on one arm.
Cyril’s thoughts intruded into mine with some urgency, “Please ask Dominic to separate Rowena from Christophe. I fear until we have had time to discover the extent of Neith’s tampering it would be safer for all. I cannot show my wife favor or Neith may react. Please, Bozena?”
His emotions rolled across me. Fear was prevalent, followed by a deep worry. The expectation of violence was heavy like a previously undiscovered cousin to gravity.
I leaned close to Dom. As I whispered into the hair covering his ear my nose was left with the fleeting but comforting male scent of him, “Get Rowena.”
He jerked in surprise and a fog lifted from his hazel eyes. I realized too late that Neith’s siren song had worked its magic on him. No wonder he’d been so quiet. He’d been entranced.
I threw an arm around his waist and squeezed for him to stay still as I spoke fast and low, “You’re okay. Nothing happened. You’re okay, Dom.” When his breathing began to settle I added, “Stay calm if you can and get Rowena. Okay?”
Dom’s head turned and he searched my face.
I hugged him harder. “Please trust me?”
He nodded and I let him go. My body felt colder without Dom’s heat. Neith watched Dominic pass and I held my breath. When her attention bounced back to me I breathed again.
Cyril hummed another lullaby, this one “Mary, Mary Quite Contrary,” and Neith’s shoulders began to sag.
21 TRICKORY DICKORY DOCK
Neith’s lids dropped and her whole body swayed in place.
Cyril mentally urged, “Hurry! We have but minutes, Zena—until she wakes.”
Dom had reached Rowena, and Christophe was distracted by her loud resistance as his unrecognized best friend attempted to drag her away.
“Minutes to do what, Cyril?”
“Touch Christophe now!”
“What will that do?”
“Just do it, sa!”
I stumbled in my bare feet across sharp crumbs of broken glass and tile. A splinter dug in to my heel and I approached Chris with a limp. When his cornflower blue eyes met mine they held no knowledge of my identity. No brotherly love. They were vacant.
There were other physical differences too. His muscles were evident under his tan skin. The babyish fullness of his cheeks was gone to be replaced by a harder, leaner version of my brother. Chris looked finely honed.
As a distraction, I darted one hand toward his squared off jaw, which he knocked aside, as the other gripped his bare forearm. Skin to skin contact created a buzz in my sinus cavity. My nose scrunched up as if a sneeze were imminent. Christophe’s body went rigid. Well, now what?
Cyril whispered in my head, “Talk to him, Zena.”
Out loud I asked, “About?”
>
I looked over my shoulder to see Cyril roll his eyes. It was an oddly human expression of irritation on his base shape’s alien face. Now that I had seen my father change his body more than once I noted the behaviors he couldn’t quite ditch from one persona to another. His earlier scolding about physical ticks came to mind. He needed to practice what he preached.
I cleared my throat and caressed Chris’s chin to nudge it down. I wanted to see his eyes. They would tell the fastest if anything I did helped free his mind. How I would do that I wasn’t sure. I would just have to trust Cyril. Easier said than done.
My voice began a husky ramble, “Hey, Brother. I’ve missed you. You’re back home but I don’t think you know yet.” Tears pricked and burned before I swallowed to continue, “Can you remember me at all? Rowena and Dom are here. So is Dad.”
Perspiration beaded on Chris’s upper lip. I still had a grip on his arm as it trembled under my hand. I leaned forward and wrapped my other arm across his bare back. He wasn’t clad in much more than a silky soft kilt with an intricate knot below his belly button.
A heavy copper necklace dug into my chest and I shifted to speak in Christophe’s ear, “I know you’re in there somewhere, Chris. Come home for real, brother. We’ve all been waiting for you. We love you.”
Christophe’s hands settled on my hips and his fingers squeezed once then went stiff. It hurt but I wasn’t about to complain. Something inside told me he’d heard and he was fighting an invisible battle. Hope swelled in me.
Cyril hissed a warning just before nails dug into my shoulder and ripped me from Christophe’s embrace. Neith’s angry words blew in a pleasant wind against my lips as her nose pressed into mine. It was hard not to go cross-eyed so I relaxed and listened instead.
“Sa, you may be my blood but do not think to trick me again!”
I closed my eyes and said, “I didn’t trick you mother. Cyril did.”
She pushed me away by the shoulders. “Do not attempt to justify your actions by placing blame on your father. You participated.”
Neith glared at Cyril. “And do not attempt to sway my sa against me again or I will make you regret it.”
I heard the familiar crackle and grind of shifting bones. At first I thought it was Cyril changing to human again until I realized my mother’s hair had gone from vibrant purple to sleek and waving black. The green of her skin faded to a light cinnamon hue and her facial reconstruction was slight. Just enough to seem human and no more. Her eyes stayed the same entrancing dark blue.
She let me go and clicked for Chris’s attention. He was shaking all over now and I was worried he might trip and hurt himself. Dom darted forward to cup one of his elbows and my brother didn’t even seem to notice the help.
I turned in place as Izzy covered her mouth and hugged her waist. Cyril whispered something to her and her back straightened. He totally missed the ‘go to hell’ look she aimed at the side of his dreadlocked head.
The partially demolished ceiling shifted over us and a chunk of tarred shingles and insulation fell. Rowena jumped out of the way. She stared vacantly at her bleeding leg. I wondered if she were in shock? The cut was serious. We needed to get the wound closed and the flow of blood stopped. No, I didn’t like my stepmother but I didn’t wish her dead.
Well, not all the time.
I stepped closer to Izzy and farther away from the threat of my angered mother. “It would be better if we all got settled inside. I’m not sure if the cops or the fire department will show after your big entrance or not. Plus, Rowena needs to be bandaged up before she faints again.”
Cyril attempted to smooth his ruined clothes, realized it was futile and bowed to Neith, “Where are my manners? Please, let us be civilized.”
She nodded her head like a queen. The effect was ruined however when Cyril turned to lead the way and she noticed the split in his trousers. Neith’s comical smirk of appreciation wasn’t lost on me. Deep down in my crazy mother’s psyche she must be decent some of the time. Maybe. I hoped. But at least she had a sense of humor.
Izzy advised, “Dom, you might wanna carry Rowena.”
Sure enough, as if on cue, the whites of my stepmother’s eyes showed and she crumpled sideways. Before Dom could move to catch her Christophe was there, cradling Rowena’s head in the bend of his elbow. My heart soared for a moment. Did he remember? When he rose and settled his mother against his stomach his expression remained blank.
Neith motioned for Chris to follow Cyril into the hall with a pointed finger. Her nails shone as if polished. Beauty was built into her DNA, though, so she had a head start on any other female in her vicinity. Had Chris been himself on their return Rowena would’ve burned with quiet hatred anyway.
Cyril threw words over his shoulder, “The grounds are protected, Bozena. As far as the outside world is concerned, this is just another quiet, peaceful day.”
Izzy growled, “Well, your kitchen is still blown to hell.”
Dom laughed from beside me. I jumped. I hadn’t noticed him until he made a noise. His smile was crooked and he ended it by biting his bottom lip.
I bumped him and then Izzy with my hips. “Ya’ll don’t worry about it. We look out for one another and we’ll be okay—okay?”
Iz coughed into her elbow and sniffed, “Yeah, if we don’t come down with mesothelioma from inhaling asbestos.”
Dom smacked her on the back of the head, “Quit watching legal infomercials, chica. This house was built long after that kinda stuff was banned.”
I raised an eyebrow and he shrugged. “My dad worked in construction, remember?”
Neith was behind us and I wasn’t comfortable with her there. To reinforce the creep factor, she grazed my dangling hair. My feet stopped like I’d forgotten to walk and I turned so quick I almost lost my balance. I would have if Dom and Izzy hadn’t steadied me.
“What do you want from me?”
I winced at how loud my question came out.
My mother took two long blinks then met my eyes. Her expression was one of longing and despair, lips parted as her breath caught in her chest. The arm she’d raised to touch my hair hovered as if put on pause before she pulled it back.
“I only want to know you, sa. Is that so much for me to ask?”
I clamped my lips together between my teeth and stared down at the dark green dried blood on the front of my cardigan. One of the buttons was missing and it gaped open right in the middle of my cleavage. Neith touched my hair again and I smacked her hand away.
“You don’t get to touch me. You might be my biological mother—”
She interrupted, “There is no ‘might’! I carried you in my womb! The first natural born of our two kinds in centuries. How could Cyril have not shared this with you? Do you not remember any of our time together?”
The way Cyril had reacted when he’d felt a memory surface had me wondering now if he’d erased or buried my time with Neith in my head. Son of a bitch! It didn’t matter right now. Christophe mattered. What she’d done to him needed fixing. Obviously my mother felt drawn to me. I could use that to my advantage. God, when had I become so calculating?
Pure rage, at my life, at the surprises around every turn, reared up and made blood rush to heat my head like a match, “Memories don’t mean anything to me, Neith. You made my brother a slave. The only family who ever really loved me, who took care of me and you’ve made him your pet! How am I supposed to trust anything you say if you leave him like that? How?”
Neith cocked her head and smiled. It didn’t match up with our conversation.
She purred, “See, you are my daughter. You think I can’t recognize manipulation? Since you have much to learn I will grant you a boon in this. Christophe can be restored and he will. Then you must agree to be with me until I have taught you all you need know.”
Dom snorted, “Not likely. Z’s not going anywhere with you, lady.”
Iz seconded his objection, “Don’t agree to this, Zena. What if Cyril can fix Chr
istophe up and you don’t need her at all? There’s a reason she’s making this offer when he’s not around.”
Neith gave a dainty yawn, showing teeth and tongue before smacking her lips together in boredom. “If you listen to your heart, you’ll come with me. If you listen to these humans, then you’ll remain ignorant–just as Cyril intended. You have great power, sa. Power to rival the greatest of Masters.”
Izzy dodged in front and shook a finger in a ‘no-no’ gesture, “Lady, you best back off. If you’re gonna heal Chris, then prove it and do it. This conversation is over.”
My mother walked past us all with a side to side hip motion any belly dancer would’ve envied. “Well, come along then.”
22 CURVE BALL
Izzy waited until Neith was in the hall before she rounded on me.
She ground her teeth as she spoke, “I can tell you’re considering her offer, Z. Are you nuts?”
I started walking carefully over the debris, making an effort to avoid the glass chips, “Well, I did just get released from a mental institution.”
Dom caught up, almost rolling an ankle on some wood. “Be serious, Bozena!”
I snapped, “Don’t call me my full name, Dominic!”
Izzy snatched at my sweater and happened to squish some of Dobbin’s still tacky blood, “Oh yuck! What the hell is all over you, chica?”
“You’re quick, Iz.”
Dom supplied, “Dead alien. Cyril chopped some guys to ribbons earlier and then disposed of the bodies through a portal.”
Izzy’s jaw dropped and she stopped walking.
I kept going. The floor of the hallway was pretty clear of debris so I increased the pace. Voices were echoing from the library, but I couldn’t tell if they were unintelligible due to distance or if they were speaking in a foreign language.
Two sets of stomps were behind me so I figured it was safe to assume Iz had recovered from her shock. Some friend I was turning out to be. At most, when she’d left the institution she’d probably thought the press would be the worst part. Oh, how wrong we’d both been. Why the heck had she even come back to this chaos? She could have pretended to forget and I would’ve never known better. I paused to collect myself and let Dom and Iz catch up at the open door to the library. Out of sight to those within, I put a hand to the wall and counted my heartbeats. The memory of the day Chris disappeared flashed and a strong sense of déjà vu gripped me.
The Blood Key (The Wander Series Book 1) Page 12
