In unison, they responded, “Mistress, we will, gladly.”
Lillian touched the rune, but it did not glow. Not yet. Soon. After. She swallowed hard, knowing what was to come, then opened the door to the chamber. She’d prepared for this moment her whole life, and now, like it or not, the time had come.
All The Conclave members, save her and her attendants, knelt in a circle around the mangled body of a woman, the former high priestess, Suzanne. Only four years older than Lillian, Suzanne should’ve continued in the loftiest role of her kind, co-ruler of The Conclave with the high priest for two more years. But she’d been murdered last night.
“Who dares challenge the high priestess?” Feandan, the high priest, rose to his feet. Tall, with beady dark eyes. Young, at twenty-two. Eight more years before he would be stretched out in the middle of this very room just like Suzanne, unless he died earlier at the hands of the monsters, as Lillian’s predecessor had.
“I do, Lillian Devereaux.” She knelt beside the body of the woman. Her hands shook as she pulled the dagger out from its scabbard home. “Let The Conclave know that Lillian Devereaux is high priestess from this day forward.”
Damn my genetic time bomb. Bloodliners lived such short lives. Lillian had known for years this day would come, though it had arrived two years earlier than expected. The attendees seemed restless for her to continue the ceremony. Feandan glared. He wouldn’t allow any hesitation.
Lillian clenched her jaw, and plunged the blade into the dead woman’s chest. The action made her queasy and dizzy, even though she understood the reason for this part of the ceremony. All new high priestesses sliced their predecessor’s dead flesh with the dagger to signify the burden of a bloodliner’s short life and the gravity of becoming a high priestess. Someday, this would be her fate, too. Tonight was just the first step for Lillian’s future. She still had to survive the next hour if she was to have any tomorrows.
The members of The Conclave rose to their feet. “The high priestess is dead.”
Another plunge of the blade. Lillian dared not look.
Since Suzanne’s body had been prepared for the ceremony, the scent of citrus and roses filled the room.
Louder, those gathered in the room shouted, “Who shall ascend?”
A final plunge. No blood seeped out from the piercing.
The smell, the sounds, the feel of the knife cutting flesh, all of it invaded her body like a sickness. She breathed through her mouth and forced the bile back down.
All but Feandan fell to their knees.
The high priest looked at her and said, “Lillian Devereaux is our new high priestess. All hail Lillian.”
In unison, the crowd responded, “Hail Lillian, holder of the dagger and tormentor of the abominations. Hail Lillian. We live to serve you and our high priest for the good of The Conclave.”
Feandan smiled, his knowing eyes glittering with anticipation, causing her nausea to increase. “You have proven your worthiness. The Conclave has acknowledged you as high priestess. Will you stand by me?”
His duty was to hunt immortals, leaving only two alive for her. She would use the two abominations to perform her duty. Lillian shuddered.
“I will.” She forced the words out.
“Will you share the bed of our prisoners to ensure their power is our power?”
Her heart skittered with fear. Oh God! “I will.”
“I, Feandan Karvis, high priest, acknowledge you, Lillian Devereaux, as high priestess of The Conclave.”
Still kneeling, The Conclave shouted, “Take her to the Rogues!”
Dread filled every part of Lillian. Distaste crowded in as Feandan took her hand and led her to the cell where Suzanne had been murdered—and she would now be expected to surrender her virginity.
Chapter 2
17) I asked the angel, Rijiah: What sustains immortals? 18) The angel answered: All immortals must form a triad with a human to remain in the world. A triad of The Alliance has one angel, one jinn, and one human lover. 19) I asked: And the immortals of The Dark? How do they form a triad? 20) He answered: A triad of The Dark has one demon, one ifrit, and one human victim. 21) I pondered his words, then asked: And the Rogues? How do they form a triad? 22) Rijiah answered: A triad of the Rogues has one phantom, one shade, and one human. 23) I asked: Is the mortal of the triad a victim or a lover? 24) He answered: Only the Rogues know.
The Book of Timu: Verses 17 through 24—Chapter 7
* * * *
Once again, Reno tried to pull the chains out of the wall, but they didn’t budge. The new strength he felt should’ve broken almost any type of restraint. Not these. He wasn’t sure why, and it only added more unanswered questions about the craziness he’d experienced since his accident.
His tormentors had moved him to a new cell with another prisoner several minutes ago. He studied the place and its contents. The cell’s only entry, a door of metal bars, was bolted and locked. Strange symbols covered the floor, walls, and ceiling. There was a wooden table with an odd assortment of what appeared to be sex toys and lubricants in one corner. Reno spotted in the opposite corner another prisoner chained up like him.
His cellmate looked like immovable granite. At least six-six. Short white hair. The guy appeared to be in his early-thirties, but probably not true since he was an immortal.
My life-after-death really sucks big time. Reno’s ironic thought might’ve made him grin had things not gone from bad to worse as of late. Especially after he died.
How long had his wardens held him captive? He’d lost count of the days and nights in his windowless cell of walls of stone and iron bars. It had to be at least a month. His memories were fading fast, but he did remember being a U.S. Marine. As he had in life, Reno refused to give up.
Unlike Reno’s limited freedom in his former accommodations, here they’d restrained him with manacles. The metal cuffs were connected to chains that went around a pulley on the ceiling then dropped to a ratchet with a handle on the floor. The other immortal had similar bindings. Why? Reno didn’t know, but he’d bet the screaming he heard last night had something to do with it. His jailers had been tough before. Now they were brutal. For hours, the humans had tortured him and the other immortal with wooden sticks that burned like branding irons, but left no mark. Before leaving, they’d tightened the chains so his arms hung immobile above his head.
Reno sensed something big was about to happen that wouldn’t be good for him. Somehow, some way, he had to get out of this mess. With the other prisoner chained up like him, the odds of escape were stacked against them. Still, with they guy’s help there had to be some chance, no matter how slim, to win both their freedom. Reno remembered the quote from Churchill he’d memorized from his previous life.
Never give in. Never give in. Never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or small, large or petty—never give in, except to convictions of honor and good sense. Never yield to force. Never yield to the apparently overwhelming might of the enemy.
Reno wasn’t sure how this supernatural stuff worked. Perhaps his cellmate had the answers they needed.
Hoping not to alarm their jailors, Reno whispered, “Buddy, how long have you been here?”
No answer. The guy didn’t even look up.
“I’m Reno. Can’t remember my last name. In fact, a lot of things are missing. Is that normal?”
Still, nothing.
“You’re dead, like me, right?”
Gotta keep talking. Something will reach this guy.
“The last thing I remember before coming here was floating and spinning in a dark place. I knew that I’d died. Some kind of accident, I think.” Reno vaguely recalled that the cause of his death had something to do with an explosion in a Humvee in Iraq, though he couldn’t recall any other details. “Hell, I can’t remember. Anyway, I fell back to earth. Gray smoke surrounded my body, and then it disappeared. Can you explain that?”
The other immortal didn’t move a muscle, but his chest rose and fe
ll, so Reno knew he was breathing.
“Come on, buddy. These fuckers haven’t said a single word since they hijacked me.”
“Until you’ve been here two hundred ninety-four years, shut up.” The guy opened his eyes. His steel gray orbs revealed nothing. “Then, and only then, will I answer your idiotic questions.”
Reno felt his jaw drop. “Holy crap, that’s how long they’ve had you?”
The granite man didn’t answer, but simply turned away.
Reno tried another avenue. “What’s your name?”
“You can call me Mr. Fuck Off.”
Reno couldn’t help but grin. Despite the attitude, he had an instant liking for the guy. Might’ve also been a soldier in his previous life, like him. “Okay, Mr. Fuck Off, what can you tell me about these pricks?”
“Shut up.” The immortal’s hands curled into fists. “They’re coming.”
Reno heard a door open, then footsteps. What now? His body turned icy.
* * * *
Titus guarded his mind with a speck of his remaining silver energy.
Though he hated to deplete his resources, he didn’t have a choice. The newborn shade, Reno, likely didn’t know how to access his power but better safe than sorry. No one would get into his head. Ever again.
Last night’s debacle had drained him. The previous shade had been foolish to venture an escape and had killed the woman in the process, but Titus had been foolish, too.
He didn’t miss his tormentor. Her delight in delivering torture disgusted him. She and the high priest held no mercy in their hearts. Good riddance to Suzanne.
He’d never agreed to the previous shade’s plan, but that didn’t matter. The other immortal had suffered for two decades and wanted to be free. The shade had taken advantage of Suzanne’s hesitation after her climax to siphon off the energy quick enough to save herself. The former shade had built up enough power to break free of his restraints. Titus had gotten some of the power, but not enough. The shade had communicated silently to Titus that he wanted to take the high priestess hostage and force The Conclave to let them go. That plan had backfired in a big way.
Instead of stunning her, the stupid shade had killed Suzanne. Titus had failed to save the immortal from Feandan’s banishment spell, and he’d also suffered for the attempt. The high priest had stopped just short of sending Titus to the Ether. Mercy? No. Feandan saw him only as a thing to exploit for power.
Now, Titus and this new shade would face angry Conclave members and a new tormenter.
The footsteps told him there were eight bloodliners coming. He knew the drill very well. He’d been through it time and again with the short-lived fuckers. Different faces, same assholes. He tried to brace himself for what was coming, though he knew it wouldn’t help.
The Conclave’s high priest came into view, followed by his entourage. There were seven of them, three males and four females, one of the latter being the new high priestess. Through the steel bars, he stared at the woman.
Long coffee-colored hair fell to her uncovered pale shoulders. She wore the traditional blue and white dress that would be on the floor in minutes. A thin, almost sheer fabric covered her perfect breasts. To his shock, Titus itched to touch them. Her plump lips looked red and lush. Compelling. They demanded tasting. Transfixed by her wide, blue eyes and the seeming innocence in them, his hunger rose. Not just for satiation and power, but also for the need to possess her. This wasn’t fucking good, at all.
What kind of new spell has she cast on me?
The new high priestess lifted her chin until she took on a regal pose, but the slight tremble of her hands revealed her fear. She obviously wanted everyone, including him, to believe she was unafraid and ready. The woman wore bravado fairly well, but he sensed real courage underneath. That only added to his unexpected desire. He tried to quell his growing curiosity, his need for her, but the urge to drive deep inside her erupted within him like an unstoppable volcano. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before, and he reeled. In spite of that, to be with her, to really want her…that, he couldn’t ever allow.
“I am Lillian Devereaux, your high priestess.” Her voice sounded shaky, but the sweetness of her tone added to his lust. “You will give me your power, and I will give you life.”
A cruel joke, at best. Only enough to barely sustain him. The Conclave had learned well the perfect recipe to keep immortals alive to steal the magical power they craved without endangering themselves by allowing their prisoners too much energy before draining it. Well, until Suzanne. He doubted the bloodliners would make that mistake again.
Reno smiled. “Sweetie, release me from these chains, and I’ll do whatever you want.”
The new shade didn’t have any idea what was about to happen. Three hundred years ago, Titus would’ve tried to help the guy out, but he no longer had the sanity for chitchat. Besides, Reno would vanish like all the other shades before him. Titus had stopped trying to bond with other prisoners to avoid the pain of their inevitable demise.
He wondered how and why he’d been able to survive so long when other immortals couldn’t. At first, he’d held onto hope for escape, just like Reno. As that faded over the years, he began longing for the oblivion of the Ether. But it never came, either. He just lived on in this never-ending hell.
The high priest raised his hands, and balls of fire shot from his fingertips straight to Titus’s chest, filling his body with pulsing pain.
The familiar torture seared him through skin, muscles, organs and bones. Agony. He looked over at Reno. Pain and shock contorted his face, but he didn’t cry out. That impressed Titus.
“I am Feandan, high priest of The Conclave. Prepare the prisoners for our new high priestess.”
The attendants moved cautiously toward him and Reno, their nasty pain sticks positioned defensively. They were still unsure after the death of the former high priestess. Good, except they had no cause to worry. After Feandan’s spell, he didn’t have enough strength or energy left to hurt a kitten.
Without fanfare, they stripped his clothes, and then prodded him onto his back. Four men pulled the chains connected to the metal cuffs on his wrists and ankles taut, leaving him in a spread-eagle position on the cold stone floor.
He watched the bloodliners move Reno into a standing position at his feet. The shade’s ankle cuffs were secured to large metal rings bolted to the floor, his wrist cuffs attached to the ceiling so they dangled from the manacles. The shade would be made to crouch all too soon. Once the high priestess moved between them, he and Reno would be given just enough slack to move their hips. After all, what good would it do The Conclave if he and Reno couldn’t doubly penetrate the high priestess so she could steal their energy for her own use?
Fucking barbarians!
Once the high priestess climaxed, the sexual ceremony would end. Neither he nor this new immortal would find an iota of satisfaction. Titus suspected that once Reno understood his role here, he’d be irate and very frustrated. Perhaps the previous shade hadn’t been stupid at all. Yes, the shade’s immortal life was over, but at least Titus’s former cellmate was free of The Conclave.
As the new high priestess drew closer, she shook and her eyes welled up with liquid. If he could use her nerves to his advantage, so be it.
Chapter 3
1) Now behold, I, Timu, write, so that the truth of The Children of The Divine and The Children of The Damned may be known to those who seek. 2) It came to pass, at the time of harvest, that I, Timu, came upon a wounded angel in the midst of my field. 3) My wife and I welcomed the angel to our house. Showing mercy on the creature, we offered our best incense and balm, and the Divine showed mercy, and the angel was healed. 4) The angel told me his name was Rajiah, and He spoke unto me, saying: Listen! And I listened. 5) These are Rajiah’s words, about the nations of man and the kingdoms of the Everlasting. 6) And the prophecy he imparted unto me.
The Book of Timu: Verses 1 through 6—Chapter 1
* * * *
>
“The phantom and the shade are ready and under control.” Feandan grasped Lillian’s arm. “It’s time for you to disrobe.”
His hold was tighter than it needed to be. Lillian had never cared for him. His harshness and arrogance had always put her off. But tonight, he was directing the show with her as the lead actress. All she had to do was say her lines, find her mark, disrobe, and…lose her virginity to immortal monsters. Anxiety squeezed her tight. The men she was about to clench with her pussy and ass would terrify even the most worldly woman, let alone a virgin.
Feandan pulled her close and whispered, “Make haste, Lillian. Once done, we can join together.”
She jerked free of his hold. “I will take whatever time I need. Don’t rush me.”
Lillian had never seen either of the prisoners, though she’d been part of The Conclave her entire life. Only those of the inner circle were allowed access to the abominations. Now, she was one of the chosen few.
The shade had just been captured only weeks ago, but the phantom had been imprisoned for nearly three hundred years, providing magical power for bloodliners. She hated the unfairness of the monsters living so long and her family dying so young.
The scene looked like a medieval dungeon. No cell phones or laptops here. Her two unwilling lovers, restrained by chains and stripped of all clothing, only added to the vision. She’d never seen such muscular bodies. Their desire for her evident by the lengthening of their massive—Oh God!
She knew the phantom's name was Titus. His stare bore through her. What was he thinking? Without the chains and Feandan’s spell, he could kill everyone present in a split-second.
The other immortal, the shade, seemed bewildered about what was happening. The oddest urge sprung up in her to tell the shade what was about to happen to him. Very strange. She shoved it down. Feandan would never agree to her stopping the ceremony for anything, especially something like that.
She'd always known her virginity would be lost in this ceremony elevating her to high priestess, and now that moment was here. She hadn’t had time to prepare, to brace. With Suzanne’s death, her readiness didn’t matter.
Cook, Kris - Lillian's Rogues [An Eternally Three Novella] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 2
