by Karen Glista
“That’s admirable.”
“I suppose, but his true hope was that she would bear a female which might grow up to be mine, but things went from bad to worse, especially for Nara. The baby was born, and we were delighted, unmarked Durent females are rare, but five days after birth a rogue Iridescent from Detroit broke into the house, attacked the baby and drank her blood in…”
“Hopes of becoming a Sirun,” Donja interrupted with downcast eyes.
“Yes, it appears you’ve done your homework,” he mumbled moving around the table, inches from her face.
“And what happened to Nara?” Donja asked, praying to buy precious time, for in her mind, she knew what was coming.
He leaned in and sniffed her hair. “The Council tracked the rogue down and beheaded him. Five days later at my father’s insistence, I married Nara, hopeful that she might get pregnant, but since we couldn’t find a blood relative for a transfusion, Lion’s antigens blocked all attempts for us to conceive a child.”
“I found a ring, Donja chimed in, “a gold band with the initials Z.M. on the inside.”
“That was mine, she stole that as well. Let me guess it was in the attic with the pictures.”
“Yes.”
“After I left her, Nara took in the French woman as her caregiver. I bet that old hag constructed this fake attic. She was quite handy with such.”
“But Nara was your wife. Why did you leave her?”
“She insisted and to be honest, I was relieved. She hated all things Iridescent and,” he paused, “she was of no use to me.”
“No use, she was your wife.”
“She couldn’t give me a child and anyway, I had a lover.”
Donja instantly thought of Kevin and though it no longer mattered, she blurted without thinking. “I can see why she insisted, infidelity hurts.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps you’re right because just after I left her, the album and the pictures came up missing. One year later, she cut her wrists after ingesting ten bottles of pills. She died in that bear claw tub in the upstairs bathroom.”
Donja’s hand flew to her mouth.
“She left a note,” he continued, “stating that the baby’s remains as well as those of Lion were inside a trunk, though none was ever found and believe me, I searched that house because two crates of solid gold candelabras and some expensive Spanish silverware which also belonged to the Council, came up missing.”
Donja felt prickles on the nape of her neck.
Oh my God, that wasn’t dirt we found in the trunk.
“There was a locket with a small hand-painted picture of the baby. Did you find it?”
“Yes,” Donja whispered.
“I gave that to Nara. It was the only thing I ever did that she appreciated,” Zaroc said as he stepped toward her. “You’re shivering,” he whispered so close she could feel his breath. She spun and looked up into his dazzling eyes. “Are the candelabras and silverware worth a lot of money?”
“Yes, the candelabras are crafted of solid gold and were used for consort weddings. The silverware was also quite rare and dated back to the Spanish Armada.”
“I can get them for you if you let me go. I promise.”
“Good try, but that’s not going to happen, Donja. You’re the Red Queen, more important than all the gold in Fort Knox.”
“Red Queen, what does that mean?”
He gripped her shoulders and spun her to face the wedding album. “Do you see these women?”
“Yes,” she whispered her heart fluttering.
He bent at the knee, his chin on her shoulder. “Look into their eyes.”
Donja exhaled, his hands tightening, his face so close.
“They’re your blood ancestors,” he breathed softly, his lips to her ear.
“Mine?” she whispered.
“Yes, and just as it was prophesized so long ago, they have all perished leaving only one last female of the Durent Clan. Don’t you see? Your Rh-null is a rarity which could easily lead to an all-out war, every Iridescent hoping to get his hands on the Red Queen. You are the last of your kind and believe me, there will be no more.”
“Why?”
“Didn’t the Midewiwin tell you?”
“How did you know I saw one?”
“Professor Bapttise from the university, phoned me.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because I am the Seventh Miigis and he fears me.”
She wrenched herself from his grasp and spun face to face. “You can’t be.”
“Oh, but I am,” he said, his eyes looking right through her.
“The seventh was all powerful.” She swallowed hard, studying his face. “He was a demonic spirit…a killer.”
“Yes, the other part of me is all that and more,” he breathed, his smile fading.
“You’re confusing me,” she mumbled leaning back onto the desk as he placed a hand on both sides of her hips. “You speak as if you’re both Zaroc and the Seventh Miigis.”
“You’re quite perceptive, my dear.”
“Lies,” she sputtered, clutching the table, leaning farther away, her head turned to one side unnaturally. “The Seventh Miigis was the most powerful thing on earth. You’re just an overgrown boy,” she said, cutting her eyes to him, “terrified of your own father.”
He grabbed her, his hand sliding around to the back of her neck, pulling her toward him. “Perhaps I am terrified of him, but the Seventh Miigis fears no one.”
“That’s not possible,” she said gripping his arm. “Release me,” she huffed with more authority than she possessed.
His demeanor shifted. “What’s not possible,” he breathed, his face pressed to hers, “is getting the seventh out of my body without a baby.”
“A baby? Are you crazy?”
“Crazy, no—fact of the matter, once I sire a baby and drink of its blood, I will become a powerful Sirun. Omniscient.”
“And what happens to the Seventh Miigis?”
“He will take host of the child’s body as it takes its last breath.”
Donja staggered, wishing she could unhear his words. “So that’s what you meant about me being the last because even if I gave birth to a female, a Durent female, you would kill her.”
He just stared.
“You’re insane,” she whispered.
He suddenly released his grip and stepped back. He shook his head as if trying to escape an agony she could not see. She slid around the table, gripping the edge for support. He took a step forward as if gaining control of himself. She met his gaze. “You would drink your child’s blood…a newborn baby, kill it and let that…that demon, have its body?”
“Yes.”
“No,” she screeched, her voice breaking, “that’s murder.”
“So, what would you have me do,” he pleaded with desperation in his voice, “because if we don’t get him out of me, I’ll die!”
“Surely that’s not the case. If this Miigis is all powerful, why doesn’t he just take the body of someone who’s dying of natural causes?”
“He can’t,” he said grimacing, “he already tried to take a female Iridescent, Antonio’s daughter, but it failed miserably.”
“So, he does leave your body at times?”
“At times, yes.”
“Why don’t you just run when he’s out, hide and hopefully the Council will track him down and kill him.”
“I can’t run because he’s used his powers to take possession of my organs, my heart and brain. I’m trapped between the two of them.”
“The two of them?”
“Yes, the spirit of the seventh and Scarface who was his original symbiont. When Scarface departs my body, I am shackled within him by the spirit.”
“So as Zaroc…right now, Scarface and the spirit are…inside you?”
“Yes, and if I don’t comply with getting them a baby, we all die!”
“I can’t believe this…how the hell did he get in you?”
�
��Afghanistan. I was visiting my father who can never pass up the spoils of war, bloody battlefields, the wails of death, he loves it. Three days into my visit I got caught by a land mine and was near death. The seventh’s symbiont host also sustained injuries and was weakening. The seventh made a deal with my father, to not only heal me, but to help find a Chippewa and make me a Sirun.”
“But why Scarface, why not just the spirit?”
“The two of them can’t separate until there’s a permanent host. I’m just temporary and I can’t sustain them. That’s where you come in, Donja. You and I make a baby and it’s done, the spirit takes the baby and Scarface and I walk away, free.
“You’re crazy…even crazier than I thought.”
“Careful, Scarface might not appreciate that,” he whispered.
“Scarface,” she huffed. I don’t believe you, he’s not inside you. You’re crazy.”
“Oh, but he is, and he fell hook, line and sinker the minute he laid eyes on you. He would have had you already and saved us the time and trouble of abducting you if not for that fucking Mancini. Sadly, the bastard marked you, so now you’re tainted by his antigens, but don’t worry, that can be fixed. In the meantime, you and I can get to know each other,” he grinned with his smoldering eyes washing over her, “and after the transfusion, I’ll mark you as my own.”
“Transfusion…what are you talking about?”
“Your brother’s blood, surely you knew.”
“Frankie! Don’t you dare touch him!” Donja screamed.
“Sorry, my sweet, but there’s no other way. Mancini and his goons may have the manor protected, but after a feeding to gain power, which your Durent blood will provide, the seventh will be far too powerful for them.”
“Zaroc, please,” she pleaded. “You’re a good and decent person and I can tell that you’re a victim. Help me, please,” she begged, “my brother’s just a kid. Torin and Gage will help you find a way to get rid of this demon. No one else has to die.”
“No.”
“I won’t do it, I hate you…both of you,” Donja sputtered, tears welling in her eyes. “I’d rather die myself,” she mumbled backing away.
“It is better to be hated for what you are,” he growled with a voice that sounded foreign, “than to die a sniveling coward like Zaroc.”
She blinked, unwilling to accept it as fact, shaking her head and then, a gasp escaped her as Zaroc’s face and hands flickered. She narrowed her eyes and it happened again. Suddenly he transformed, his dark skin evanescing to a soft golden tan. She stepped back from the table and bumped into a chair which fell to the side. Stumbling, with a near fall, she righted herself with unbelieving eyes as he completely transformed to Scarface. A scream tore from her. She spun, her heart stampeding, racing for the door.
“We meet again, my pretty,” he said as he moved with lightning speed and blocked the door with his hulking body.
Donja slid to a stop. Fear gripped her like a vice. Weak in the knees, she took a step, backing toward the desk. “Don’t touch me,” she sobbed hysterically.
“Just give me a little taste of that Durent blood, bitch. “I’ve waited so long.”
“No,” she cried, tears welling.
“I’ll be gentle,” he said with a quirk of his face, “for a while,” he laughed, taking steps toward her.
“Don’t come any closer, she trembled, weak in the knees. “You’re a sadistic, cold-blooded murderer . You killed Becky and all those other girls.”
“They were just treats, blood and sex to keep me alive, but you…hmmm, so young and ripe.” He stopped midstride and twisted his head almost to his shoulder. He shuddered and as his demeanor shifted, he appeared to be fighting an internal battle. He clenched his fists into weapons of steel, his body shaking. “Shut the fuck up you cock sucker, you had your time with her, this is mine. No!” he wailed, “forget it,” he grumbled as if talking to something or someone. “I won’t damage the merchandise.” He shook his head violently. “Just watch and learn, faggot,” he growled as he turned back, a vile evilness leaching from his eyes.
“Stay away from me!” Donja screeched, her voice wavering. “Zaroc! I know you can hear me. Come back…please!”
“He can’t help you, hell he can’t even help himself. Now get over here and get on your knees before I forget that we need you alive.”
“No, I belong to Torin. He marked me!”
His face twisted in anger.
“Help me, somebody help!” she screamed, her voice reverberating. She glanced around, searching for a weapon, anything.
Suddenly he flashed toward her, his body a blur. He seized her as a scream rippled her lips. He spun, wind whipping her hair as he flashed to, and slammed her to the wall. She felt the impact, the breath all but knocked from her lungs. She flailed her arms, beating his massive chest as his eyes flipped to a gold, blinding light. She saw his fangs and then with her gut churning she gasped for air, which was all she could do as he shackled her to the wall, shoving her up with her feet dangling. He sank his fangs deep in her neck. Her eyes widened, the pain supreme. She gripped his shoulders as he fed upon her like a rabid dog. He relinquished his bite, then with bloody lips found her own and kissed her, long and hard, his emboldened hands roaming her body. She tried to scream as she beat him with her fists, but the fight was over, her stamina gone, swallowed by his greedy lips. He ran his hands under her dress and ripped her panties from her body. She screamed, and he stuffed them into her mouth, growling like a beast. He grasped the neckline of her dress and with power not of this world, ripped it, the fiber cutting into her shoulders as he reduced it to yellow threads.
He moaned his delight, the more skin he saw, the more he wanted. He ripped her bra from her chest, using his teeth. He bit her shoulder and she tried to fight, but it was useless. She felt blood trickling over her breasts and down her stomach which sent him into a frenzy, licking and sucking. He seized her waist, lifting her higher, hungry lips on her belly slurping up every drop. Suddenly as if he was struck by lightning, he released her, his eyes wide as he streaked backward and slammed into the table. His face contorted.
Donja hit the floor on her side, her head whacking the baseboard so hard that she saw stars. She scrambled to her feet, then stumbled and fell. She was weak, so weak. Bleeding from her head and shoulder she rolled over, the room spinning. Terrified, she crawled on hands and knees for the door. Midway across the room, with his howls which bordered on agony, forcing her to glance back, she focused on him as best she could, tears streaking her cheeks.
“No!” he wailed, gripping his head, muscles bulging. He spun, crouched at the knee then turned facing her, wiping his bloody lips with the back of his hand. He shook his head violently, locks flying. “No!” He roared so loud that she cowered, hands over her ears. She scooted backward, her nape prickled, goose bumps dancing as his body began to flicker, evanescing between Scarface and Zaroc.
From the hallway, someone kicked the locked door and it shattered. Donja raised a hand to shield her face, splinters flying.
“What’s wrong?” Garret yelled, wide eyed as he rushed to Zaroc and gripped him tightly.
“She’s pregnant!” Zaroc sputtered wildly, spit flying from his lips. “Scarface tasted her blood. It has hCG!” He flailed his arms, Garret trying to contain him.
“That can’t be.” Garret groaned. “Mancini didn’t petition the Council.”
Donja sat up in a near convulsive state, arms crossed over her exposed breasts.
Garret met her gaze then dropped his eyes to her stomach with an impenetrable stare. “Pregnant,” he whispered as he raised his eyes to meet her own. His lips trembled. “You bitch! You’re fucking pregnant!”
Donja’s stomach lurched. “Pregnant?” she stuttered, the very word sucking the air from her lungs.
Garret pulled Zaroc close, an arm across his shoulder. “It’s okay, son. Mancini will pay, of that you can be damn sure. He’ll pay with his life for defiling her!”
/> “That won’t help me!” Zaroc whimpered.
“Garret smoothed Zaroc’s hair and pulled him tight. “I’m going to take care of this, son, you’ll…”
“How?” Zaroc screamed, pulling back and staring into his eyes. “I’m losing this battle!”
“The boy,” Garret snarled. “We’ll snatch him, drain her blood and infuse it with his. Once Torin’s antigens are diminished, she won’t be able to sustain the embryo. She’ll abort naturally and then…you can have your way with her.”
“I don’t have time for that,” Zaroc whined, tears streaking his face. “He’s killing me, father, eating me from the inside out!”
Donja crawled toward the door unnoticed.
No, not Frankie…no!
Just past the shattered door jamb, she saw six-inch black heels. She stopped and slowly raised her head. It was Zaroc’s mother, a hand to her hip. “Going somewhere,” she whispered.
Donja covered her face and her tears fell. She felt the woman’s hand come to rest, gently on her arm.
“Come, she whispered, “let’s get you up and get you back to your room.”
“What are you doing, Larkspur? The bitch is pregnant!” Garret’s voice boomed behind them.
“I’m taking her to her room,” Larkspur said, “she’s of no use to Zaroc in this condition.”
“I’ll fix that!” Garret shouted. “I’ll get the boy!”
Cold Hard Truth
Anna’s arrival at Hampton Manor was bittersweet. Torin opened the back door to the vehicle and when Anna’s spiked heels came to rest upon the uneven stones of cobblestone drive, she wobbled, saved from a fall by his hands, gentle but firm. Steadying herself as Torin and Carson retrieved her luggage, Anna noticed the silent faces of men, emerging from the shadows, lured by the scent of Durent blood.
“They are loyal to me,” Torin said, detecting her fluctuating pulse. There’s nothing to fear.”
Hearing a screech, Anna saw Lisa emerge from the open front door, arms spread, tears glistening in moonlight as she raced toward her. They fell together, tightly bound with an embrace that lingered. Finally, Anna pulled back, eyes on the open door where a soft glowing light warmed the steps. She swallowed tears, finding her voice. “Where’s Frankie?”