by Rita Vetere
The next time she came around, squinting in the gray afternoon light, she looked out the window to see they were on a highway. The car turned off at an exit marking the docks in New York. She had no idea how long she'd been out. “Where ... are you taking me?” she managed to croak.
"Out of the country. I've booked our passage on the ocean crossing to Southampton. You'll remain under Dr. Stronik's care during the voyage, and afterward, until the child is born. In seclusion, as per Ahriman's instructions. Isn't that right, doctor?"
In the rearview mirror, Jasmine caught a glimpse of Stronik's shifty eyes as he said in cold voice, “Yes. For your own protection. As well as that of your unborn child."
Christopher snickered, a sound that ripped through her heart like a knife. She closed her eyes and sank back into oblivion.
* * * *
When she next awoke, she found herself in bed, her head resting on soft pillows, a low thrumming noise in the air around her. To her left, through sliding glass doors, she could see a small balcony and, beyond it, the ocean. Christopher and Stronik were in the room with her, she noted, as her head lolled to the right. Confusion raced through her until fragments of her conversation with Christopher in the car earlier drifted back to her. They were on board a ship, crossing the ocean, headed for England.
Nausea assaulted her the minute she opened her eyes. She tried to get out of bed when she realized she was going to be sick, but too weak to move, she soiled the bedding. Immediately, she heard Christopher's irritated voice. “For Christ's sake, clean her up."
She watched Stronik get up from chair in the corner and move toward her. A spark of anger and thoughts of revenge passed through her when the strange doctor arrived at her bedside, but they were quickly extinguished by the drugs in her system. She closed her eyes, not wanting to know or understand anything more.
The entire remainder of the ocean crossing was nothing but a blur. On one occasion, she awoke to find herself hooked up to an IV. Her state of almost total inertia meant Stronik had pumped more drugs into her. She slept through most of the remaining six days. On the few occasions she came round, either Christopher or Stronik were in the stateroom with her, guarding her. She wondered bitterly what story they had concocted to explain her bedridden condition on board the ship. She supposed Stronik had been able to come up with a plausible explanation and the necessary paperwork to explain why his patient needed to travel to England by ship.
On the seventh day, they made landfall. Jasmine was carried off the vessel on a stretcher and deposited into a waiting car. Soon after, the car sped off as they began the journey to their ultimate destination, which she heard Christopher tell the driver was in Northumberland.
* * * *
Carla sipped champagne from a fluted glass and double-checked her reflection in the gilt-framed mirror over her dressing table. The red silk night gown and matching robe had arrived an hour earlier, delivered by Emma in her usual courteous manner, along with the champagne, on instructions from Ahriman. Carla twirled around in front of the mirror, admiring the way the smooth fabric clung to her thighs and complemented her long black hair. Ahriman would be here any minute, and she wanted to look perfect for him. The past two weeks awaiting his arrival had felt like an eternity.
As she turned away from the mirror, she was startled to see Ahriman standing just inside the doorway. She'd not heard him enter. At the sight of him, her heart began to pound madly and a pleasant warmth spread through her southern regions. His gaze travelled up and down her body before he looked into her eyes. When he fixed her with a stare, desire erupted in her like hot lava. He moved toward her, impaling her with those eyes of his. The world swam around her.
"You're here,” she murmured.
As if from outside herself, Carla noticed his lips did not appear to move when he spoke to her. So strange. Yet the images that sprang into her mind were incredibly delicious and spoke to her of his love. She leaned into him as he covered her lips with his own. The images intensified. She felt faint just being close to him. He slipped the silk straps from her shoulders, and her gown slid to the floor. He lifted her, and backed her against the wall, driving into her as she moaned her pleasure. Glancing at his face, she noticed the odd, almost sly look that crossed his features, but dismissed it as one of passion.
* * * *
Christopher was right. Carla would prove to be a most pleasant distraction while he waited for his child to enter the world. Tonight, he would tell Carla who he really was ... what he really was. He intended to keep her around, for a while at least. Although her beauty was no match for Jasmine's, Carla was malleable as warm putty. He liked that about her. And he delighted in the idea of Jasmine arriving later tonight to find Carla here. Pity he wouldn't be here to see it with his own eyes, but by the time Christopher arrived with her, Ahriman would probably already have disembodied. His sexual appetite being what it was, he preferred to spend his time fornicating.
He reminded himself that, in the meantime, he will have planted another seed in Carla. Another Cambion to stand beside him, while he perfected his new race with Jasmine and her offspring.
Carla cried out again, and he returned his attention to her, chuckling under his breath. Life was good. And getting better.
* * * *
A couple of hours later, Carla floated awake and ran her hand along the mattress next to her. She found the spot still warm, but Ahriman had departed. The scent of the peculiar aftershave he favored still lingered on the bedding, though, and every delicious detail of their lovemaking burned brightly in her memory. Suddenly, she started, and sat up quickly in bed, remembering.
Christ, what a crazy dream. In it, Ahriman had told her ... But had it been a dream or had the strange conversation taken place? She tried to clear her mind so she could remember, but the details remained fuzzy. Confusion muddied her thoughts as she tried to recall his words. She could have sworn Ahriman had confided something to her ... something that had struck her as bizarre. Then the sound of his voice returned to her, telling her ... No, that's impossible. Had he really told her was not human? That he was a spirit who had the ability to mutate into flesh and blood ... or had she dreamt it? That's insane, you idiot, you were dreaming.
From the open window of her third floor bedroom, she heard the sound of a car door slam shut and caught snatches of low conversation coming from outside. Three-thirty in the morning. What could be going on at this hour? She moved sluggishly as she slid out of bed and covered herself with the red silk robe which she'd discarded on the floor earlier. Thoughts of Ahriman clouded her mind. Ahriman. Just thinking about him caused her heart to speed up.
She opened the door to her room and padded along the dimly lit hallway to the staircase. The sound of voices traveled up to her and she wondered again what the commotion was about. When she descended the stairs and stood in the main entryway, she found the staff lined up in the large foyer, uniformed and ready, obviously awaiting someone's arrival.
* * * *
Jasmine jolted awake when the car stopped. Through her drug-induced haze, she glimpsed the dim gray walls of a massive stone structure towering above her. Darkness had fallen, but exterior lights revealed the enormous façade of a gothic building. She could see hilly terrain and a dark forest behind the palatial edifice. There appeared to be no other houses nearby, and she discerned no other signs of life, no sound of cars—although somewhere nearby she heard dogs barking.
Dr. Stronik emerged from the car first, and hurried along the wide cobblestone walkway to the front steps. Christopher lifted her out of the car and followed him, carrying her. Jasmine was awake, but her arms and legs dangled uselessly as Christopher moved with her toward the massive entry doors of the manor. Her body felt numb. What did they give me? Not only had her physical strength been sapped, she felt oddly emotionless, her reactions blunted. Try as she might, she was unable to summon the anger which she desperately required. Whatever drugs they'd administered had caused her emotions to become as f
lat as the line on a monitor attached to a dead heart.
Stronik held the heavy doors open as Christopher carried her across the threshold, like a nightmare groom ushering her into hell. Jasmine gazed up at the carved oak ceiling of the entry way that soared three stories high. Soft light infused the great hall and Jasmine caught glimpses of heavy furniture and an elaborate staircase that circled up to encompass all three floors.
As Christopher swung her around, Jasmine came face-to-face with a line of uniformed maids and stewards. Christopher addressed them in a matter-of-fact voice. “This is the woman I spoke to you of. You are all aware of the instructions regarding her?"
When they murmured their assent, he said, “She's sedated. Is her room ready?"
One of the gray-and-white-clad maids stepped out of line and said, “Yes, sir, just as you and Mr. Ahriman requested."
Jasmine's head flopped to one side. Barely conscious, she caught a glimpse of a dark-haired woman standing off to one side, dressed in a red silk robe. Something about the way she held herself seemed familiar and Jasmine strained to focus her vision.
Then it dawned on her. Carla. How ... Jasmine struggled to gain her attention, even though she wasn't sure what she was seeing was real or imagined. “Carla...” she mumbled in her direction. But Carla only stared back at her, a shocked look on her face. Then Carla swung out of sight again as Christopher turned to carry Jasmine up the circular stairway. Dr. Stronik followed them, his heavy footsteps echoing loudly in the large open space.
* * * *
When the main doors opened, Carla took a step back, caught off-guard by the sight of Christopher, who entered the house in a proprietary manner. What the ... What's Christopher doing here? Then she saw the semi-conscious woman he carried in his arms, and blinked in disbelief. As soon as Carla saw the long mane of blond curls and the graceful curve of the arms dangling at the woman's side, she gasped. Jasmine. What the fuck was going on? Why was Christopher here—and what had happened to Jasmine? She opened her mouth to speak, but could only watch, astounded, as Christopher issued orders to the staff. Jasmine was to be confined to her room, under the care of the strange doctor, Stronik, who had arrived with him. As Christopher turned to carry Jasmine upstairs, Jasmine looked directly at her and called out in a barely audible voice.
Carla, shocked by the sight of her friend, did not react quickly enough. “Jasmine!” she called back, but Christopher was already halfway up the stairs with her. Stronik stopped her with an icy command. “Wait here,” he said, giving her a stony stare.
Intimidated by the strange-looking man, Carla backed down.
"You. Come with me,” Stronik said to one of the maids, who hurried to follow him up the stairs.
* * * *
Christopher carried Jasmine into a bedroom that would have done justice to royalty, save for the leaded-glass windows which revealed it for the prison it was. He placed her on the edge of the bed and helped her to sit up until the chestnut-haired maid who had addressed Christopher downstairs a moment ago entered to assist in undressing her.
Jasmine tried again to elicit help as the woman tugged at her clothes to undress her. “Holding me ... against my will."
The woman appeared taken aback by her comment and glanced at Stronik.
"It's the medication,” Dr. Stronik explained. “The only type suitable for pregnant women, I'm afraid. I'll keep an eye on the dosage. It can cause strange behavior sometimes."
"Yes, sir,” said the servant, as she placed a soft cotton nightgown over Jasmine's head.
The maid helped Stronik to position Jasmine's limp body on the bed and pulled the bedcovers up to her chin.
"Thank you, that'll be all,” said Christopher, with a dismissive nod.
After the woman left, Christopher whispered something to Dr. Stronik, who also left the room, closing the heavy wooden door behind him.
When they were alone, Jasmine struggled to speak. Staring at Christopher, she said, “Won't ... get away with this."
The sound of his laughter in response made her skin crawl.
"Who do you expect will help you ... Carla?” He bent over her, bringing his face close to hers. “Ahriman's taken quite a liking to her. I think I can safely say she won't be lifting a finger to help you."
Oh, Carla. Her mystery lover ... Ahriman.
"As for your confinement, be thankful you're here, and not where others who've betrayed him ended up. If not for the child you're carrying, your fate would have been much worse, you ungrateful bitch."
His despicable words flowed through her, eliciting sparks of anger. “Where's ... the pendant?"
"It's safe,” he assured her with a sneer. “Ahriman left it with me for safekeeping on the day you betrayed him. It'll be returned to you when it's time for the baby to arrive. After all, Ahriman will want to witness the birth. Then he'll decide your fate, my love. For the time being, he's engaged in other ... pursuits."
He turned to leave, but stopped before he reached the door. “Oh, and just in case you get any bright ideas, you should know you're being watched. The same guardians that kept your mother company while she waited for you to enter the world will be watching over you. Ahriman's faithful ones."
Just before he exited the room, he flicked the switch on the wall next to the door, leaving her in darkness. The sound of a deadbolt clicking into place told her she was locked in.
Moonlight poured into the room from the large window on the wall to her left. Only the tops of trees from the forest beyond were visible from the window, lined up like sentinels beneath a brightly-lit moon stationed high in the night sky. As Jasmine watched, a dark shadow drifted past the backlit window. Then another, and another.
Gooseflesh rippled along her body. As she looked on, the room filled up with shadowy outlines of malformed creatures that jerked and crawled about with quick, strobe-like movements. The sound of their whispering, snickering voices reached her.
Disjointed thoughts flitted back and forth behind her eyes as she stared at the grotesque faces of the damned souls. One of the evil creatures appeared at her bedside and ran a withered hand along her face, but Jasmine hadn't the strength to fight him off. The remaining phantasms lurched toward her as she watched their advance, helpless to move. She tried to focus on conjuring her anger to keep them at bay, but only succeeded in fending them off for a few moments before exhausting herself. Mercifully, after the first few blows struck, she passed out.
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Chapter 25
Carla waited at the bottom of the staircase, pacing back and forth like a caged tigress. After a couple of moments, Christopher returned downstairs, and she hurried over to him.
"What are you doing here? And what's wrong with Jasmine?” she shot at him. He grabbed her by the arm and led her outside, away from the staff, who were still milling about and within earshot.
Once outside, Carla shook herself loose and turned on him. “What are you doing here? What's happened to Jasmine?” she repeated, her heart racing. Something was terribly wrong with this scenario.
She heard him chuff in annoyance. “I guess Ahriman left it me to tell you."
"How do you know Ahriman?"
He looked at her calmly, but did not answer right away.
"Answer me,” she demanded, her voice rising in frustration.
"Keep your voice down!” His look silenced her.
"Okay,” she said, struggling to hold back her anger at his imperious tone. “What's going on? How do you know Ahriman? And what the hell's wrong with Jasmine? She looked totally out of it.” Her thoughts raced like bullets as the questions tumbled out on top of each other. She paused to afford him a chance to answer.
"Just for the record, I don't have to tell you anything,” he snarled, bringing his face close to hers in a threatening manner. “But seeing as Ahriman's seen fit to have you brought here, I suppose it'll be made clear to you eventually."
Carla took a step back. “What do you mean?"
&nb
sp; "I do know Ahriman,” he said calmly. “Rather well, in fact. I've known him for over two centuries."
"Two—what are you talking about?"
"Stop interrupting me, if you want to know."
Carla bit back her resentment, and waited.
"Ahriman is my father. This estate is my home. I share it with Ahriman."
"Your father.” Carla stared at him.
"Look, hard as this may be for your little mind to absorb, I'll try to lay it out for you."
He stopped to glare at her, and it took all of Carla's self-control to hold back from lashing out at him for his insulting manner and condescension. She waited for an explanation of his absurd statement of a moment ago.
"I am not,” Christopher continued calmly, “a mortal. I'm a halfling, a Cambion—half mortal, half incubus. You are aware of Ahriman's nature, by now, I hope?"
Oh my God. The dream. What Ahriman had told her. She hadn't dreamt it? He'd really said those things?
"He told me something,” she said weakly, “but it's not possible. It can't be."
"What did he tell you?"
Shock washed over her like ice water. “I think he told me earlier tonight that he was a spirit who could become flesh and blood. But I thought I'd dreamt it, that it couldn't possibly be..."
"True?” Christopher sneered. “It is. Ahriman is an incubus, an old soul. Or at least he was, until the fifteenth century. That's when he learned how to materialize. Since then he's been able to travel between the spiritual realm and the mortal world. Ahriman's been mating with mortal women since the fifteen hundreds. I'm living proof. This estate belonged to my mother before me. Her portrait hangs over the mantle in the drawing room—perhaps you noticed it. Ahriman mated with her in this very house in 1789. I was born the following year. Unfortunately, my mother died shortly after my birth. For the first twenty years of my life, Ahriman visited me on a fairly regular basis. Then, early in the eighteen hundreds, he disappeared, and I thought that was it, that I'd never see my father again. I found out later that something had happened to him. He kind of got stuck between the two worlds for some reason. He resurfaced again just over twenty years ago. Over the past two decades we've grown close again. Halflings live a long time, you understand. I'm almost two hundred and fifty years old, but from what I know of the elders who went before me, that's only about half my life span. Something about our unique nature, half spirit, half human, slows down the aging process in our bodies.” He spoke with undeniable pride, and looked at her as if to ensure she was suitably impressed by all he'd told her.
