by Tracy Tappan
“Ah, hell,” he breathed, anguish burning into his temples like a soldering iron. Screw it. Surging to his feet, he carefully set the Sorbera on its guitar stand, then crossed to his office closet. Hunkering down on his hands and knees, he rummaged through the junk inside, cursing and grunting. The small chest was way in the back, purposely buried under a crapload of stuff to keep it away from easy reach. With a final huff, he pulled the chest out, flipped open the lid, and…just about fell back on his ass.
Holy Christ, The Book.
He’d all but forgotten about the thing. He hadn’t opened it in years because…well, whenever he did, it was kind of a bizarre-o trip-out for him; for several nights afterward, his dreams would be filled with strange, fantastical pictures.
It was an amazing book, though. The cover itself was striking, sandy-colored and grainy in texture, the center decorated with a dark blue crescent moon and star that shimmered almost supernaturally. On the pages inside were wondrous and detailed drawings of dragons, fairies, kings and queens, labyrinths, and…a people so magnificently stunning, he couldn’t quite figure out who they were. Or what they were. Because he had a strange sense beauty like that didn’t come without a mystical element attached to it.
He’d originally thought The Book was a fairy tale written in some extinct language. The lettering looked like a mixture of ancient hieroglyphs, Runic markings, and, hell, something J.R.R. Tolkien might’ve invented. But when he’d taken it to the language department at UCSD for analysis, the linguist had told him it was utter gibberish, nothing at all readable. Although the thing was…he could read it. Sometimes, at least. Or more like, “see” pictures in the lettering, although he didn’t know how. And, well…it was no fairy tale, he’d figured out that much. More like a history of sorts, a prophesy, maybe, somehow a commentary on his own life, which was the really freaky part.
Temptation pulled at him to open The Book, but he forced himself to set it aside. He didn’t need that kind of distraction right now. He rooted deeper in the chest and found the piggy-backer. Sitting back on his heels, he stared at the disc. Maybe he should try fixing it first…. But beta testing generally took a long time, and time was exactly what he didn’t have right now. No, that precious commodity was rapidly ticking away.
He crossed to his desk and sat down, pulling the piggy-backer out of its sleeve. He filled his lungs with a long, deep breath, then slid the disc into his computer tower.
Time to set a trap.
Chapter Fourteen
Beth Costache hauled open the gymnasium door and planted herself inside, her face schooled as best she could into an expression of displeasure. The grunts of men exerting themselves flowed over her at about the same moment as the humidity of six sweaty bodies training.
Gábor was working out at the punching bag, the bull skull tattoo on his arm flexing with each hit; Nỵko was at the weight rack, bench pressing what looked to be the poundage of a Hyundai; Thomal and Sedge were sparring in the boxing ring; and her husband was wrestling with Dev across the room, the two going at it relatively easily since Arc had just woken from his hibernation state today.
Gábor noticed her first. “Yo, Arc,” he called out, backing off from the bag. “Looks like trouble in paradise, Bro.”
Arc peered up from his pretzeled position on the mats. “Beth!” He untangled himself from Dev and jumped to his feet, snatching up a small towel as he crossed to her. “Hey, honey, what’s up?”
“I tried to arrange a lunch date with Toni for tomorrow, but couldn’t.” She scowled at her husband, but his lack of reaction made her feel, as usual, like some low rent actress hired for her looks and not her ability to pull off anger with any believability. “Apparently, I have to get my husband’s approval before I’m allowed to be alone with her.”
“Aw, no worries, baby.” He scrubbed the towel over his sweaty blond hair. “You can go. I’ll let Roth know everything’s cool.”
She grrred beneath her breath. “Oh, well, thank you so much for your permission.”
Arc flipped the towel over his shoulder. “Don’t get all bunched up, Beth. It’s just that Roth knows there’s some discontent among the wives right now, so he wants all requests to see Toni to go through the husbands.”
“Don’t get bunched up?!” she repeated hotly. “You’re controlling my actions, Arc.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “Frankly, I don’t appreciate it.”
His mouth turned down slightly as he skimmed his eyes over her. “What’s up with you?”
Oh, yes, God forbid I should ever complain about an unfairness…or anything else! “You wouldn’t have to ask me that if you ever bothered to listen to me.”
“What are you talking about?”
She couldn’t believe this! “The other night I tried to tell you how unhappy the Dragons are about the kidnappings. It’s more than just discontent, Arc, but you didn’t pay any attention. You just started kissing me, and…and…. Honest to Pete…sex, sex, sex! That’s all you ever think about or want to do.”
Arc opened his mouth…then just left it hanging open.
“Dude, Arc,” Thomal snickered from a few feet away, “you dawg.”
Arc blushed a mottled shade of red. “Shut the fuck up, would you, Thomal. Maybe nearly thirty years of not getting laid after reaching physical maturity took a big toll, all right.” He swept a glower across the other warriors.
“Hey, man,” Dev threw up his hands, “no need to explain it to me.”
Arc turned back to her. “Can we talk about this later, please?”
“You mean alone in our bedroom?” She made a hah noise. “I’m not falling for that again.”
Arc passed a hand over his face. “Beth, I’m sorry, okay. You’re…God, an incredibly beautiful woman, and I…just can’t help myself sometimes.”
“I’m glad you’re attracted to me, Arc, of course. But you’re my husband, and I’m supposed to be able to talk to you about anything.” A tight feeling caught in her throat.
“You can, baby.”
She was tempted to leave it at that. He looked and sounded so genuine, and it’d be the easiest thing in the world to allow her husband to tell her “everything’s fine,” then just go home and pretend it was. To let the other Dragon women burn their bras and instigate change so that she wouldn’t have to spend a single moment feeling uncomfortable. God, she was pitiful; she wasn’t even sure she knew how to confront her own feelings anymore. Had she really wanted to get pregnant? She loved the child growing inside her, of course, now that the baby was there, but she hadn’t thought the matter through much more than to acknowledge that being pregnant would please Arc and the community at large. And being the girl who pleased people was the skin she felt safest in. Trouble was, she was also getting fed up with how pathetic that made her feel.
The tightness slid into her chest. Her next breath strained out of her. “For five years we’ve been married and I’ve hardly ever argued with you. I hate to fight, so I…I’ve never told you certain things, like how much it hurts me that you don’t share the details of your work with me or that we don’t talk about anything deep, about books or the news or culture. It makes me feel like you think I’m weak or stupid.”
“C’mon, honey. I don’t think that.”
“Really? Did you ever talk to Roth like you said you would?” She saw his expression. “No. Of course you didn’t. Because you didn’t think I’d call you on it; you didn’t take me seriously! Heck, you probably didn’t even mean it. You just said it because you wanted to put your thingy in me.”
There was a muffled snort from one of the warriors.
“Jesus, Beth.” Arc’s face went up in smoke. “What the hell do you want me to say to Roth, anyway? Excuse me, sir, but the Dragons don’t agree with the method you’re using to try to save our entire race from extinction.”
“It’d be a start.”
Arc looked toward the ceiling for help. “Would you please be reasonable.”
“As so
on as you stop being unreasonable and start speaking out against something you recognize is wrong.”
“You know,” Sedge butted in, “Kimberly says the same thing to me, Beth, and it’s frustrating, because this isn’t our decision to make. We’re not the men in charge.”
“Exactly,” Arc agreed enthusiastically, obviously glad for the support. “What you’re asking me to do would be like me asking you to tell the President of the United States that he needs to fucking shape up.”
Her stomach fluttered nervously. Facing down more than her husband hadn’t been in the plan. And it wasn’t just Sedge on Arc’s side; all of the warriors were. She could see it on their faces. “Y-yes, well, at least in America we have a say, a vote, about matters that affect our lives, and…and we have certain freedoms. The President of the United States sure as heck doesn’t get to tell me who I can or can’t have lunch with. Or when I can or can’t use the Internet. Here in Ţărână, Roth has way too much power, and the Dragons are sick of it. We need a voice, and if you can’t stand up to the leadership for us, if…if….” She made herself push the words out, “if you’re too damned weak to do that, then we will.”
Arc’s cheeks flushed a dull, furious red.
One of the warriors made a low sound in his throat that resounded into a weighted silence.
Her eyelashes started to quiver uncontrollably, and she fought to keep her stomach where it belonged.
“You know what—” Arc yanked open the gym, door. “Go ahead, then.” He invited her to leave with a sweep of his hand. “Do your worst, Beth.”
Her lips parted. She gaped at him for several erratic pulse beats, unable to believe he was being so cavalier about her—or any of the Dragon’s—ability to wreak havoc on Roth or the community. It was insulting beyond measure, and it put steel in places she’d never had it before, like her spine.
Snapping her mouth shut, she moved stiffly into the doorjamb. “In five years of marriage, I think I’m seeing you clearly for the first time, Arc.” Tears surged into her eyes, but she fought them back.
A muscle quivered in Arc’s jaw.
“You Vârcolac males like to make us Dragons think we’re so special to you, but the truth is,” she lowered her voice to a hiss, “we’re not even worth the effort for you to fight for us.”
Arc opened his mouth, but she was done arguing.
She whirled and stormed down the hall, her heart beating as fast at her feet.
Chapter Fifteen
Toni opened her bedroom door and popped her eyebrows up. “Jesus, what’s going on?” There were half a dozen warriors standing on her doorstep.
The group of them looked like a communal nightmare, dressed from neck to boots all in black, their chests and backs crisscrossed with leather straps and holsters for a dozen wickedly sharp knives.
“Is there a problem?” She swept the group with a questioning gaze, recognizing all of them from the “family” meals she shared with the residents of the mansion in Roth’s lavish dining room. A huge, scary man called Nỵko, who was Jaċken’s older brother; Vinz, a dark-haired hottie despite his 70’s sideburns, now fully recovered from some injury she’d heard he’d suffered; Gábor, whose left biceps sported a tattoo of a bull skull that was “attached” to his arm by a thickly braided ink rope; two others whose names escaped her, and then…
The King of Nightmares himself, Jaċken, planted right in front, wearing a headset, like the other men, and, unlike the others, dark sunglasses. His jaw was set in its typical default mode, steely and immobile.
She narrowed her eyes on him, wanting to smack the hard right off his face, the urge no doubt intensified by five days of nursing her embarrassment over their last run-in. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and leaned one shoulder against the doorjamb. “Let me guess, Mr. Brun, you’ve finally managed to unclench your sphincter enough to offer a kindness. You’re here to lend me The African Queen.”
Vinz rubbed a hand over his mouth to hide a smile, while Jaċken’s eyebrows disappeared behind his shades, a sure sign he was—here was a shocker—scowling at her. Guess he didn’t like being reminded about their last run-in, either.
“You’re being allowed outside of the mansion,” Jaċken informed her tautly.
She straightened abruptly. “What? But I thought I was only being permitted out tonight?” She had a date with Buns of Steel Thomal at the ever-popular Garwald’s Pub. It could’ve been at a butcher shop for all she cared, as long as she was getting out of this hateful building.
“Last night you proved you were serious about dating your mate-choices,” Jaċken went on, still tight-lipped as somebody with a corn husker up his butt.
Ah, yes, her romantic dinner with Dev in a cozy corner of the mansion’s Garden Parlor. Roth’s chef had cooked the meal and Dev had brought a bottle of wine from his collection, an outstanding Tuscan red. To her surprise, she’d actually enjoyed some parts of the evening. Dev’s lively anecdotes and unexpected level of intelligence had proved entertaining. His ability to make her feel naked with the merest glance had not.
“Dr. Jess has requested some time with you.” Jaċken crossed his arms over his chest full of knives, one corner of his lip curling. “But hey, lady, if you’d rather stay in your room and flick the bean all day, or whatever it is you do in there, be my guest.”
Gábor made a huff noise that sounded suspiciously like a stifled laugh.
Her face warmed, but she regrouped quickly. “And you need five other men to help escort me? Sheesh, ’fraidy cat! A girl brandishes a letter opener one time….”
The small town of Ţărână was full of activity at this time of “day,” people bustling about with their chores and on errands, although without any real sense of urgency. There was always time to pause and chat, call out a greeting and wave. Toni, of course, received plenty of stares. But then, how was a girl supposed to pass unnoticed when she was towing an entourage of Xbox 360 characters with her?
She spied the first older folks she’d yet to see in the town when they passed Aunt Ælsi’s. Several clusters of gray-haired men and women were sipping cappuccinos and lattes at small tables and laughing. One group of women was engaged in a lively game of canasta. A lady dressed in a frilly apron with her grayish-blonde hair swirled into an extravagant French knot, strode back and forth from the counter to the tables, clearly the owner and Grande Dame of the place.
“That’s Ælsi, Kasson’s mom,” Vinz provided from off to her right. “Your future mother-in-law if you play your cards right.” He chuckled.
She didn’t join in. She was too busy trying not to fall further down the rabbit hole into this surreal Alice in Wonderland experience. How could everything and everyone look so damned normal, for Pete’s sake? These people thought they were “vampires.” Shouldn’t they look like Trekkie conventioneers or squint-eyed after-hours clubbers? Shouldn’t the town be some sort of cross between Transylvania and the movie Blade Runner?
Not Pleasantville.
One pill makes you larger and one pill makes you small….
At the end of Main Street the road forked, the right fork expanding into a gigantic cavern. The left continued into a dimly lit tunnel, making it impossible to see what was further down. An exit, maybe? One of her guardsmen probably had a key card on him right now.
They headed to the right, strolling past an aluminum-sided diner with pink awnings, a grocery store with a banner of happy faces strung in the window, and a schoolhouse that could’ve been peeled right off the screen of a Little House on the Prairie episode. Jesus, just…über weird. She didn’t know how she’d ever manage to describe this place to the police and capture its true essence: yes, officer, just try to imagine a bunch of Dracula wannabes living on the Good Ship Lollipop.
Go ask Alice when she’s ten feet tall….
The hospital came into view, and wow. It was a beautiful four story building, glass-fronted on the upper stories, with a pristine white façade and arched portico on the bottom floor. She
couldn’t believe how many impressive buildings she was finding inside a cave. Further up the road, she glimpsed the beginnings of a residential neighborhood, brightly painted houses lined up in a neat row, each with a cheery white picket fence and a lawn of AstroTurf.
Okay, whoa. Somehow they’d switched to the set of the 1950’s Leave it to Beaver sitcom.
And any minute the Mad Hatter was going to jump out and invite her to tea.
No, just a young boy riding by on a Big Wheel. Dear God, she was going to weep from the sheer insanity of it all.
And if you’ve just had some kind of mushroom and your mind is moving slow….
Once inside the hospital, Jaċken led her to a lab while the other five warriors took up positions at various points in the building. For the most part, the laboratory was furnished like any other she’d spent too many hours in over the course of her career: incubator, centrifuges, microscopes, autoclave…. Ah, but here, too, the concept of normal failed her. There were also several newfangled models of apparatus she’d never seen before. How on earth was there a piece of lab equipment she didn’t recognize?
When logic and proportion have fallen sloppy dead, and the White Knight is talking backwards and the Red Queen’s ‘off with her head’….
Dr. Jess was standing near a metal cabinet, his lab coat bleached to near sun-blinding whiteness. He was talking to two other people: another lab-coated fellow and a cute brunette. He broke off as she entered to come welcome her. “Dr. Parthen!” He gave her hand a warm shake and smiled broadly, all big, toothy grin now that he didn’t have to hide his fangs. “What a delight to have you here finally.”
