by Karen Glista
Watch your mouth.
Antonio gave him a direct look. “I think for the first time since Anstosa died, I can smell your anxiety. What’s happening, do I need to pull you off this case?”
“No, it’s not the case. I will get this bastard.”
“Is it the female?”
Torin stiffened then turned up the stein and quaffed the sweet, red nectar. He stood up and threw the stein which crashed into a tree, shards flying. He leaned on the bannister. “She’s killing me.”
Antonio rose to his feet and inched to his side. “I suspected as much. Gage said she was of the Durent Clan.” He raised his hand which came to rest on Torin’s shoulder. “It must have been hard for you.”
“Her eyes all but sapped the life out of me,” Torin groaned.
“Take her,” Antonio whispered.
Torn grimaced. “I can’t.”
“Anstosa is dead, Torin, hundreds of years dead.”
Torin spun to face him. “She’s not dead to me, Antonio. I still love her, she’s part of me.”
“And perhaps she loved you, though I must add, that emotion was hard to read in her.”
Torin dropped his head.
“You know that I offered her immortality,” Antonio said softly.
“She couldn’t,” Torin mumbled with his eyes squeezed tightly.
“And we both know why. Face it my friend, she never accepted our life and for damn sure, she never wanted you to be a Sirun. She killed your child, Torin, threw herself off a cliff when she learned she was pregnant.”
“No!” Torin wailed as he rocked his head, teeth gritted. “It was an accident, she wouldn’t.”
“She did it, Torin, and you need to face it. Even your father saw what she did and…”
“Don’t bring my father into this,” Torin interrupted bitterly.
“All right, I won’t, but I stand by the facts. She chose not to give you a child. She chose to fight our kind at every turn, warning the Chippewas of our existence, spreading her tales of the Seven Miigis and in the end, she willingly chose to leave you, seeking death over your heart.”
“Stop it!” Torin snapped, fury in his eyes, spit flying from his lips. “She was my life!”
“Yes, she was, but that part is forever gone. Open your eyes, you’re still alive and you have needs, this female proves that. Please,” he said, as he planted his hand firm to Torin’s shoulder. “She will make you strong.”
“No,” Torin wailed, fist balled, ready for battle. “I buried those needs alongside Anstosa. I cannot, and I will not, forsake my vows.”
“Your vows ended when she took her last breath.”
“No,” Torin moaned, the fight within giving way to a palpable torment. He dropped his head and with his eyes spilling misery, combed his hair with his fingers.
“Look at me,” Antonio said.
Torin slowly raised his head, his eyes veiled. Silence grew between them. Antonio seized and gripped Torin’s upper arm. “Take her,” he whispered forcefully, “make her your own and from that union, bring forth a child, your own flesh and blood. You can be a Sirun.”
Torin shook his head. “That’s not important to me, it never has been.”
“That will change when you behold that child’s eyes.” He paused and took a haggard breath, “which brings me to the truth of this visit. I need you, Torin.”
“Need me? Why would you need me?”
“Because I need a Sirun I can trust, one with integrity.”
Torin’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand.”
“Well understand this. Garret is intoxicated by power and the day will come when he makes a move, I can see it in his eyes.”
“He could never defeat you,” Torin said.
“Not alone, but he has gotten very close to Maxum and if the two of them join forces, they could take me out and you know the rules of engagement. He would then destroy my bloodlines and after that, he’s home free. The other Siruns would be easy prey and then when Maxum least expects it, Garret would kill him as well.”
“Then he would combine the armies of the four dead Siruns and dominate the west,” Torin whispered.
“Exactly, which brings me to you. You’re an honest Iridescent one of kind, not seeking power, but love which sadly has evaded you. If you would become a Sirun,” he paused, if you would take a stance at my side, Garret would think twice.”
Torin dropped his head.
“You deserve happiness,” Antonio whispered, “and from your reactions to this girl, she’s the very one who can give that to you.”
“And if she doesn’t?” Torin retorted.
“Then two birds with one stone. You will have saved me, possibly the death of my family not to mention this girl’s life. Isn’t that what Anstosa requested of you with her last breath—to save her lineage?”
Torin squeezed his eyes tight and dropped his head.
Antonio released his grip. “I’ll hold Garrett off as long as possible and give you time to catch this bastard, but don’t take too long with the girl. Word is spreading of a Durent female which you know is all but nonexistent. Within weeks, there will thousands of Iridescents swarming the Soo and one is bound to nab her. End this before it starts.” he sighed. “Take her.”
Torin raised his head and they locked eyes. “I can’t, she’s too powerful. Hell, I can’t even get close to her, the need to feed and mate is overwhelming.”
“You can do it.”
“No, you don’t understand. It’s the scent of her blood, so damn beguiling,” he flung his head, “even more powerful than Anstosa’s.”
Antonio cocked his head. “What do you mean, more powerful?”
“Her red blood cells aren’t round like Anstosa’s, they’re oblong with a hint of gold.”
Antonio narrowed his eyes. “Oblong? Then her Rh-null has mutated. There must have been inbreeding in her lineage, first cousins or who knows, even father to daughter.”
“I don’t know,” Torin shuddered, “but it’s the most powerful thing I’ve encountered.”
“My God,” Antonio mumbled, eyes glazed, staring at nothing. “She’s the Durent female prophesized over five hundred years ago.” He gripped Torin’s arm. “Don’t you see, she’s the last one standing. She’s ‘The Red Queen.’ It was said that her blood would be so rare that she would spawn a world war, Iridescents killing Iridescents for the last chance of becoming a Sirun. You must take her!”
“You’re not listening,” Torin growled, his dark eyes numinous. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t, I’ll snap and there will be no stopping me. She’s like a drug, Antonio, she’s in my head, she’s taken control.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Don’t you see, a little could never be enough, I would have her…all of her. I might kill her!”
“Make an elixir of boiled cannabis, primrose, garlic, willow with a pinch of arsenic. Feed one hour before your encounter with her, then drink the potion. It’s good for four, maybe six hours. The desire will still exist, but your ability to resist will save you, that is until she consents and once your antigens bind her cells, you couldn’t kill her if you tried. Now, I suggest you get moving. Before you know it, there will be thousands of power-hungry suitors and the queen will be brutally dethroned.”
Torin gripped the bannister.
“You know it’s true. She’ll be an abused consort warming an Iridescents bed.”
Torin growled, his chest expanding. He threw his head back, fluorescent green eyes penetrating the thick, overhead canopy.
“See,” Antonio quipped. “I knew damn well she was the one. Just look at you, unable to control your fury, the thought of another having her driving you to madness! Charm her, Torin, win her heart. Embrace your destiny.”
Consequences
Donja was munching Doritos, shoulders hunched to the computer screen, scrolling page after page. “Hey, check it out, we have some hits on the pictures.”
Makayla looked up from her laptop. “Let’s hope it’s not
more idiots. I read one last night that said it was his girlfriend.”
Donja laughed. “There’s one from a man here in the Soo who says they are family members. He says the album was stolen. He wants to meet with us, and wow, he’s offering a reward.”
Makayla’s cell rang. She picked it up.
“Hey honey,” she whispered.
Donja turned to look, certain that it was Gage. She wondered if he was with Torin. She bit at her lip and she knew it was wrong, a thousand times wrong, yet try as she may, she couldn’t rid her mind of his eyes. She watched in silence as Makayla’s demeanor shifted from joy to shock, followed by a palpable horror.
“Okay,” Makayla said, tears welling in her eyes. “Donja and I will take a walk outside.”
“What’s wrong?” Donja asked.
“The girl we heard about on the news,” Makayla sobbed, “the one found down by the river.”
“Yeah,” Donja whispered, her heart thumping wildly.
“It was Becky.”
“Oh, my God!” Donja leaned forward to softly grip Makayla’s arm. “Does Heather know?”
“I’m not sure,” she cried, “but Torin and Gage want us to take a walk outside and meet them. They have to question me.”
“Question you? Why?”
Makayla raised her tight fist to her lips, her head down contemplating. “I made a phone call, that’s got to be it.”
“What phone call?” Donja asked.
“Friday night I called Becky’s cell,” she sobbed, her voice breaking. “She didn’t answer so I called her home and left a message asking her to join us on Saturday for Heather’s going away party. I also sent a text begging her to come.” She raised a hand wiping at her face. “Her parents must have turned over the messages to the police or, they have her cell phone—”
“And since you were probably one of the last people to call her, they want to question you,” Donja cut in.
“I can’t believe this,” Makayla said shaking her head, “she’s dead,” she wailed, with tears streaking her cheek. “Dead!”
“So, are Gage and Torin questioning you for the Council, or are the police coming as well?”
“Just Torin and Gage, I think,” she sobbed. “They’re worried I might crack under the pressure and say the wrong things.”
“This is all so crazy,” Donja mumbled. “Let’s hurry and get outside before Mom sees you crying. She finds out about this and she’ll never let me leave this house again.” She stood up, her mind reeling.
Damn I need a cigarette!
~~~
Donja, dressed in skimpy shorts, a crop top and flipflops with her dark tresses pulled tight into a ponytail, opened the front door. Maestro bolted past her. She stepped off the stoop and paused on the flag stone walk, gazing at the picturesque sky. She exhaled, it was unseasonably warm and as the sun’s rays caressed her skin, she blinked with heavy lids, momentarily escaping her fears. She raised a hand to shield her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup which today, was more goth than glam.
Maestro suddenly barked an alarm.
Donja winched, then spun expecting the scar-faced demon, but instead saw Maestro in hot pursuit of a rabbit. She exhaled. “Maestro! Get back here! Come here, boy!” she pleaded clapping her hands.
Makayla who had been sunbathing earlier, was donning shorts over her bikini bottom, a bikini top, flipflops and pigtails. “Maestro!” She called out, joining Donja’s pleas. They took off across the yard, following Maestro’s sharp barks. Donja cast a stealthy glance and Makayla was pale as a ghost with a shell-shocked look in her eyes. She wanted to help, reach out and comfort her but she couldn’t find words. She bit at her lip and it occurred to her that though Becky was a stranger, news of this death had affected her as well.
This girl’s dead, it’s not like the movies, there won’t be a happy ending. Dead...she’s not coming back.
She hugged herself with arms tight to her chest, suddenly aware that if nothing else, this was a wakeup call, a true testament to the dangers, not only for her, but her entire family.
Hearing the rumble of tires on the cobblestone drive, Donja turned, Makayla at her side. She shielded her eyes from the sun as a black Charger came rolling up the drive.
“I’m going after Maestro,” Donja said as the car pulled up and Gage and Torin got out. Makayla grabbed her with fear dancing in her eyes.
Donja hugged her. “I’ll be right back, I won’t leave you.”
“Promise,” Makayla whispered with pleading eyes.
Donja noticed she was shivering. “I promise,” she said, forcing a smile. “Sisters don’t desert sisters.”
Makayla hugged her tight.
Donja pulled back. “Now take a deep breath, this too will pass.” She walked away, eyes squeezed tight, praying she bought it, for truth be known, she was terrified. She heard Torin’s voice adrift in the wind as he questioned Makayla. She forced herself to keep walking, wandering the verdant meadow. “Maestro!” she called out, wading thick grass dotted with yellow and white wildflowers. Winds whipped her ponytail to lash her face and she brushed it away scanning the landscape. “Maestro! she called with both hands flanking her mouth. She listened and then heard his barks. She hurried deeper into the meadow, winds billowing the tall grass. She spied him, just shy of a majestic spruce, digging feverishly. She cut the distance between them. “Maestro, you bad boy. You’re going to be so dirty and you know you hate baths.”
Maestro ignored her, ears pricked, whining excessively while digging at what looked like a gopher hole. She scooped him up in her arms, struggling with short whimpers. “That’s not nice Maestro, that’s just a little rabbit, you shouldn’t chase him.”
“And you shouldn’t be out here in this meadow unprotected,” a deep masculine voice resonated. She spun and faced off with Torin as he removed his sunglasses. She lowered her eyes and struggled to contain Maestro. She angled her head with a fleeting glance but didn’t fail to notice the dark hair on his chiseled chest, visible beneath a partially unbuttoned plaid shirt. She dropped her eyes to Maestro, but by no will of her own, they crept back to his faded jeans which were so tight, they left nothing to the imagination. She dropped her head again, heat rising from her chest all but forcing a gasp. “I had to stop him…he…would kill that poor rabbit.”
“That is the nature of things, predator feeding on prey,” he said as Donja slowly raised her head. “It’s all around us,” he said, his eyes washing over her, “cheetah and gazelle, lion and buffalo, yet we ignore it, it’s a part of life, so woven into our existence that we don’t give it a second thought.”
She noticed his fingers tremble. “That doesn’t make it right,” she mused.
“Right, wrong, when you’re hungry, you eat.”
She shivered as winds whipped her hair and she noticed Maestro had ceased his struggle, ears pricked with his eyes locked on Torin.
Does he know that he’s not…human?
“I’m sorry to hear about Becky,” she said suddenly remembering why he was here.
“It was a senseless killing.”
“Was it the same guy, the scar-faced man?”
“Yes, and he will kill again.”
Donja grimaced.
“I need you to think,” Torin said. “Did he give you a name or mention where he is from?”
“No.”
“Think, Donja, what did he say to you?”
“Oh, I—hmm, let me think. He had a slight accent and used a lame pick up line, something like, ‘I never expected to see a beautiful girl like you.’”
“Anything else?”
“Yes, I was staring at his scar, I couldn’t help myself and he said it happened in Afghanistan.”
“Afghanistan?”
“Yes, I’m certain of it,” she said. She noticed that Maestro was sniffing the air. He growled with his eyes locked on Torin.”
“Maestro,” she whispered holding him tighter.
“It’s okay, he knows I’m an Iridescen
t,” Torin said, “animals know all species.”
Donja exhaled. “This is all so unbelievable.”
“It’s not to be taken lightly, your life’s in danger.”
“I know, and I just pray that you catch him soon.”
“I will,” he said softly, the words explicit.
They shared a look, broken only as his gaze washed over her, head to toe.
“Do you promise?” she whispered so softly that he cocked his head, sunlight glistening in his hair. “I must confess, I’m pretty terrified of every bump in the night.”
He grimaced. “Yes, I can see that. Even now, you have goose bumps, not to mention tremors and a rising pulse.”
“How can you know that?”
“It’s who I am.”
“Very well, since we’re being honest, if you’re so powerful then why are you scared of me?”
“I’m not.”
“I don’t believe you. Even now, you keep a great distance between us.”
He averted his gaze, left then right, then licked his thick lips. They shared a look. “It’s for your own good,” he grimaced. “You don’t know it, but you’re a tantalizing temptation and I fear…”
“So, you do fear me?” she interrupted as she took a step forward.
He took a step back. “You just don’t get it. I don’t fear you, I fear the predator within me. If I get too close,” he shuddered, “I might snap.”
“But what if I wanted to get close to you?” Donja asked boldly, betrayed by her own words. She dropped her head, shackled in chains, her confession shocking. She could feel his eyes upon her, winds whipping the grass at her feet. Time stood still and then by no will of her own, she raised her head, the winds tossing her ponytail to one side. They locked eyes, lost in beguiling fantasy. Finally, with his hands trembling, his jaw tight and his mysterious eyes undressing her, he took a step forward.
“I would like to get to know you, Donja.”
“Know me,” she mused, searching his face which held her captive.
“What I really mean is that I want to learn about you, your desires, who you are, and,” he paused, “teach you of my life.”
“That sounds good,” she whispered in a barely audible tone.