by Kim Petersen
Triumph shone in her eyes as she smiled at him. She turned her attention back to her quarry, brushed back her blood-clotted hair and ravished the dead man’s chest with her gnawing teeth.
Zane was mesmerized. She will make a suitable queen indeed.
Zane awoke with a squint and shielded his eyes from the glaring windows. He lifted his head slightly and instantly flopped back onto the pillow with a groan. His head felt as if a hammer thumped against his brain, his mouth parched and dry with the faint aftertaste of blood lingering on his tongue. Keira wriggled next to him and tossed an elbow his way, conveniently connecting against the soft flesh of his temple. He grumbled under his breath and rolled out of bed, blinking repeatedly at his surroundings until the events of the night before seeped into his consciousness like a hazy mirage.
They were still in the apartment belonging to Arella’s friends. Things had got a little wild after he and Keira had made their first kill together. Images of her naked and grinding beneath him in a bath of sticky blood flashed through Zane’s mind. They had totally succumbed to the instinctual urges of their mutated forms, feasting on human organs and quenching their thirst on blood between hard, fast fucking. He sighed contentedly as he remembered how liberated he had felt.
Zane looked down to inspect his body, expecting to look like a gory movie, yet he was clean. He sniffed under his armpit and frowned. Black hair fluffed and poked into his nostril as he breathed. Odd, he thought. He smelled like a mango coconut milkshake. It was then he recalled the long shower he and Keira had taken together. He smirked. Long indeed. There was nothing like a freshly washed pussy cat after hours with a savage tigress.
He rose and headed to the bathroom in search of an aspirin. He thought his head would split in half as he flung open the mirrored vanity and rummaged through bottles filled with organic skincare products, shaving lotion and jars of beeswax. He paused and frowned when he spotted a can of whipped cream next to a bowl of honey. Who are these people? The thought vaporized from his mind when he discovered a little white basket filled with various medications on the top shelf. He found what he wanted and popped two little pills into his mouth, washing them down with gulps of water. He splashed the icy water into his face, inviting the chill against his skin while he huddled over the basin. His mind flew into action, twisting and turning like a frisky wind as he contemplated his position. What if Regan gets his hands on the seed before him? No! He shook his head, immediately wincing in pain and cupping his face in his palms.
He straightened his body and closed the vanity. His shoulders slumped as he took a long, hard look at his reflection. The skin over his head was wrinkly, his black eyes sullen under a dark baggy rim. Blemishes scattered over his nose and chin while his morning stubble spiked silvery from his jawline.
Funny. I’m sure I looked better than this last night, he mused, taking a razor and a handful of shaving lotion. While he ran the edge of the blade against his tired skin, it began to dawn on him what he would need to do if he were to have a chance at obtaining the Serenity Seed. It was simple really. He needed to remain the serpent-hybrid. No more interludes of his weaker human form; he couldn’t afford that liability. But how could he make that happen? He knew he risked certain death if he were to constantly inject Shabu into his system to maintain his mutation. Argh!
There must be another way.
Focus, Zane.
He turned the faucet on full heat. Billows of steam clouded over the large mirror, concealing his reflection while he pushed his mind to the brink of his desire. All at once he became aware of another presence in the bathroom. Its dark force curled with the vapor steeping throughout the tiled room.
An icy chill bit against the back of his neck like an Arctic breeze. His chest tightened, and he whirled around to peer behind him. Nothing. When he turned back to the mirror he thought his blood would drain from his body then and there, as he came face to face with glowing yellow eyes. He knew at once they weren’t the friendly kind of yellow you would see in a field of daisies. These were the kind of yellow that lingered in nightmares; the kind that struck into the core of your soul and twisted it like a sour lemon.
The yellow eyes slanted and pierced at him from the fog over the mirror. Zane stared back, feeling like a frightened rabbit. A voice rattled through his head, drowning out all other thought and dominating his attention. His trembling fingers became still as he closed his eyes and gave himself over to Apepsis. The deep voice hissed and lashed into his mind until he could not mistake its wicked intonations nor the deliverance of its message.
‘Selina Knowles. Go to the coven and you will find her. She has what you want to stay the serpent-hybrid,’ Apepsis jeered.
‘What does Selina Knowles have that can make this happen?’
A hiss whistled through Zane’s head and vibrated against his ears. ‘Selina Knowles has created a potion … a potent potion. Together with your Shabu, you will stay my serpent-hybrid and create your posse. Then you can defeat the angel-woman.’
‘Yes! I will kill her!’ Zane shouted.
He was suddenly jolted back. He dropped to his knees, and scraping his fingers along his scalp, screeched as an agonizing pain stabbed through his skull. It was as if he were perforated internally. The voice intruded through Zane’s torment and fizzled into his head. ‘If you kill her now, the Serenity Seed will be forever lost. There is only one chance to possess the seed. You must keep the woman alive until the seed comes into fruition.’
Zane nodded frantically. ‘Okay, okay! Keep her alive until I have the seed … got it. And what of the Dark Star?’
Silence gracefully bloomed through Zane’s mind. He peeped cautiously toward the mirror as he gathered himself to his feet, cringing when the yellow eyes flared at him.
A long hiss prevailed and cramped through Zane’s mind.
‘The Dark Star is the son of Apepsis; his powers surpass your morphed condition.’
Zane’s lips tangled with his grimace. His eyes darkened as images of Regan flashed in his mind.
‘I know I can take him down.’
The sound of laughter echoed in his head. He winced, squeezing his eyes closed until the noise began to fade out, leaving the contents of his mind void of the intruder. Zane’s eyelids fluttered open as the vapor dissipated from the glass and the glow of the serpent’s eyes were no longer visible. He let out a huge sigh as relief spiraled through him. His reflection returned in the mirror, bringing with it a wide toothy grin.
He was startled as the door opened and Keira slinked into the bathroom behind him. He spun around and flashed her a smile, noticing her drooping shoulders, tangled hair and the dark circles lugging under her eyes. Her face crinkled while she rubbed her hair.
‘What’s with all the fucking noise in here?’
He handed her an aspirin. ‘Time to pep up and pack up, sweetheart; we’re going on a road trip.’ He grabbed her and twirled her around as she wailed and protested.
Keira scowled at him as he set her down. She gave him a dirty glance and swallowed the pills greedily while bending into the basin and lapping up mouthfuls of water. When she was done she looked up at him, her scowl deepening at the grin on his face.
‘What’s up with you?’
He chuckled. ‘I have all the answers you need, sweetheart. Shower up, we have to get going.’
Her face screwed up in suspicion.
‘Where are we going?’
Zane gave a triumphant look before breaking into a little victory dance. The pasty skin on his cheeks wobbled slightly.
‘We’re going to the serpent’s den; into the coven baby!’ he laughed.
Selina Knowles, here we come.
Regan stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling hotel window, his naked body gleaming incandescent in the early morning light. The call of cockatoos and parrots drowned in his ears as he clicked the play button on his phone and the soothing tones of Jarryd James filled the gaps in his soul. He gazed at the stretch of trees before him, foll
owing the dips and peaks of the mountain ranges with his eyes. Gigantic sandstone boulders rose high in clusters, their sheer cliff faces concealed by the thick rolling mist that clung and scattered around the base of the dense wilderness below. The serene mountain scene spoke to him. Its soft whispering leaves swept into his soul and impressed upon his consciousness like a paintbrush dipped in gold. He felt like a stranger in his own skin. Like an impostor had scraped past his awareness and hijacked his life. His control. His emotions. But then again, he wasn't even sure he ever really knew who he was. Perhaps he had been the stranger all along. Perhaps his life was destined to know more meaning than he’d ever dared imagine.
Perhaps. Perhaps I can make this chaos count.
Regan’s eyes fell to his toes as he tried to push the tide of conflict bubbling below the surface of his mind. It was becoming harder to pretend to know who he was. And he was growing tired of trying.
He turned his back to the view. The collection of thick tendons along the back of his neck stretched as he gathered his clothes and made for the shower. He wondered if Arella was awake at this hour. His heart skipped even with the thought of her. Arella with her dark fiery temper and violet stare. She was a woman gifted with abilities he suspected were much more powerful than his own. What a surprise that turned out to be. Yet, with all her hot-blooded temperament and outbursts, there was a certain vulnerability about her that shook him to his foundations. She was everything he never knew he wanted. The foreign feelings she provoked in him unsettled as much as excited him. Sometimes truths were heavier than fiction.
Regan stepped into the shower, his mind buzzing with the events of the night before. He’d had enough time to evaluate the change in events during the drive from the city. Arella and the guys in the back of his car had kept silent for most of the ride, each of them adrift in their own thoughts. He had always felt at home driving late at night, finding a strange affinity with the stripy lights reflecting against the charcoal road, especially when he wasn’t in the city. Those were the times he could silence his mind the most. Those were the times when he almost felt normal and left old shadows behind.
Almost.
He had felt anything but normal with Arella only a few feet away from him. His mind reeled with her brooding presence, his pulse looping through him with every shift in her consciousness. It was as if he could feel what she was feeling. As if they were somehow connected. Was it possible?
He had cursed himself inwardly and focused on the road ahead, and when every now and then he had to glance at the GPS, he tried not to steal a look her way. By the time they left behind the outer western Sydney suburbs and snaked their way into the Blue Mountains, it was almost midnight.
He remembered Arella curled up in her seat, her head lulled to the side as she napped. Regan had snuck a peek at Jacques and Lenny in the backseat. They were leaning over each other in a muddle and snoozed restlessly. He rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck from side to side, feeling the tension ease as he relaxed a little. He was sure Zane and his gang hadn’t bothered to follow suit. He would have noticed them by now. That fact alone wedged a sliver of curiosity in his mind. In his experience, most rival gang members would have scrambled for their cars and chased them down given half the chance. Yet Zane and his men had remained at the apartment. That could only mean Arella’s magic was more powerful than what he’d first imagined. He was keen to find out more.
Then Arella stirred next to him. She uncurled her body, rubbing her eyes with balled fists as she yawned.
‘Where are we?’
Regan had glanced at her. ‘Just passing Lawson. We’ll stop mid-mountains for the night.’
Arella shook her head. ‘No way. We drive right to Ace’s.’
The faint scent of mango shampoo wafted from her hair, and combined with the heating, skimmed into his nose. He wanted more than a bite.
‘Sorry beautiful, isn’t happening tonight. You’ll have to wait for the morning to see your uncle.’
‘I’m not your beautiful, and like hell I will! You said you’d take us there.’
He could feel her anger crawl beneath his skin. He smiled.
‘I said that before I knew how far away he lived. Relax, we’re all tired, better to get some rest before tackling your uncle,’ he said, shooting her a quick look. ‘Besides, I think it would be a good idea for us all to sit down over breakfast and assess the situation – don’t you?’
‘What’s there to assess? My boyfriend was eaten alive, my best friend is a blood-thirsty hybrid with a psychotic boyfriend who thinks I have some magical seed that can either destroy the earth in the wrong hands or banish evil, and you are a complete mystery!’ She paused to take a breath before grimacing at him through the dark.
Her tone became suspicious. ‘Why are you here anyway? What’s this got to do with you? You want the same thing as Zane Crais, I bet.’
He was quiet. Jacques and Lenny mumbled in the background as they straightened up.
Arella gasped. ‘Hello?’
Hello indeed. He stifled another grin. ‘I thought you didn’t know anything about the seed?’
‘I didn’t until yesterday, turns out Google knew more than me.’
Regan’s brows raised. ‘Ha! The seed can be Googled? How about that!’
‘How about you answer my question?’
He slowed the BMW as they met with a dense mist crawling toward them along the road ascending through the mountains. A set of lights beamed red through the haze. He hit the brakes, taking the opportunity to look at her.
‘I’ll tell you what. We break at Katoomba, find a hotel for the night and we’ll discuss everything over breakfast before we go visit your uncle. Deal?’
Her dark brows crossed furiously, shadowing her eyes as she glared at him.
Jacques poked his head between them.
‘Sounds like a great idea, Button. Lenny and I both agree; a hot shower and bed will make everything a little better.’
Arella glared at Jacques, who raised his eyebrows in response before he sank back into the seat. She turned her head back to the windscreen and the collection of dew spreading over the glass.
She crossed her arms against her chest and sighed.
‘Fine.’
Regan accelerated when the lights switched to green. Her frustration simmered across his skin like a scorching flame, yet still he wanted to smile.
‘Fine,’ he repeated softly.
She whirled around to face him, her eyes smoldering against his face. ‘But tomorrow you tell me everything you know or …’
‘Or?’
She glanced at the window again. ‘Or I’ll make sure you’ll be sorry.’
‘Oh, a threat?’
‘Nope, a promise,’ she retorted.
A grin broke across his face. ‘Even better.’
The following minutes were muted as Regan concentrated on maneuvering the car through the foggy winding highway until he spotted the turn-off for Katoomba – the heart of the Blue Mountains.
Katoomba was known for its majestic mountain views, bush trails and waterfalls, as much as for its underlying retro-hippie sub-culture. Artist and muses alike flocked to Katoomba in droves, drawn by its lazily seductive charm and laid back lifestyle. The colorfully bewitching community played cool and passive by day yet partied like only mountainfolk could when the sun went down. If it was a quality stash of weed you were after, this was the place to get it.
Regan was interested in neither weed nor the mountain sub-culture. All that was on his mind was space. He needed some time alone. He needed time away from Arella. He needed a long stretch of hours to breathe, gather his thoughts and recoup. And a soft bed would go down nicely too.
Years before, Regan had stayed in this mountain town when scouting out a new deal for his uncle. A young group of guys had set up a nice little cannabis venture for themselves. The fellas had some low-level connections cashing in for them around Sydney. The stuff was grade A shit. Carefully manicured b
uds slowly filtered through to the family. When thick rolls of potent dark green leaves shaded with purple reached Vincent’s hands, he had to find the source.
That was before ICE had hit the scene and marijuana still pulled in a decent dime.
Vincent always had a soft spot for the green stuff, swearing by its self-medicinal qualities. Regan remembered how his uncle said it helped him grasp a different perspective. He said it opened his mind to new and endless possibilities that benefited the family and his ability to serve their serpent god. His uncle was always on the lookout for the purest stash around. He went to great lengths to control and deal the most organic smoke in town, cursing the ever-popular hydroponic craze with such fervent distaste that it sent shivers down a young Regan’s spine.
When Vincent had sent Dorian and Regan to the Blue Mountains to secure an exclusive agreement with the young stoners producing the best weed to hit Sydney’s back streets in years, they didn’t take the responsibility lightly. As it turned out, the weed growers were more than accommodating toward their newly acquired business partners, treating them to a night out crawling through the boozy joints along Katoomba’s main roads. The deal went down without a hitch.
Unfortunately, Regan couldn’t say the same about the state of his head the next day.
Regan directed the car through the main road until the shopfronts were behind them and the valley loomed gaping and black ahead, and finally pulled the car to a stop in front of a big hotel.