We set off, me in the lead this time, Syl backing us up. It’s exactly where I wanted her, and the fact that we’re all working together so well after how hard it was to reign her in is a boost of confidence I really need right now. Having her at our backs, watching for traps or fuckery, makes the most sense.
We move at a light jog, fast enough to eat the distance to the distant light but slow enough that if something happens we can react without bowling each other over. With the curveballs this place has thrown us, I fully expect something horrible to happen at any moment; the crowd descending on us at some random point, the ground swallowing us up just before we reach the end of the path, something.
But what follows is as anticlimactic as our passage past the beast when it was chained in the square. We reach the edge of the crowd with no incident. Still, I don’t let down my guard. Not for a second.
I remember what happened last time I thought we were in the clear.
We pass from dense neighborhood into a vast park. Dark trees hunch, spindly branches reaching like grasping fingers. I wrinkle my nose at the smell of good soil gone to rot. Rolling hills obscure the view in most directions, and the path we walk is half broken, paved with shattered rock that crunches under our feet like bones.
It’s like Central Park in New York, if it’d been designed by a serial killer. What lurks behind its low hills and desiccated trees? What’s watching us?
We pass into the wood. I’m not sure this is much better. Now, I can’t see anything, can’t tell where an assault might come from. My shoulders are so tight with strain that they ache, and my head pounds at the stress. “I’d almost prefer a fight to this,”
“What? No way. This place is making you crazy,” Mika says, elbowing me.
“No, I know what he means.” Syl moves ahead of us, already scouting the path now that we’ve left the mob behind. “The anticipation of battle and the stress of waiting can be worse than the event itself. Your body is tense and alert, and when nothing happens…” She turns a grin over her shoulder. “Like intercourse.”
“Blue balls for battle.” I laugh. “Who knew that was a thing?”
Her eyes fix on me. “Warriors. Soldiers. They know.”
Damn. That feels kind of fucking great.
Mika’s laugh is brittle. “Yeah, well, if it’s all the same to you guys, you can be the warriors. I’ll back you up with some fire.”
“Hey.” Her bare arm is clammy under my hand. This place has really done a number on her. “After all this? Everything we’ve been through? I know you have my back. Our backs.”
“I panicked back there. You’re right. After everything we’ve done? All we’ve faced? I should have been… better.” She shakes her head, looks up at me, more miserable than I’ve seen her since the moment we woke up together.
“Congratulations, you’re human.” I lean in, sudden, kiss her. A quick press of our lips that she returns eagerly. It lasts only a moment; all we can afford. All I need. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Sam. I don’t…” Her breath hitches. “Thank you.”
“And thanks for not mentioning the half dozen times I’ve fucked up and almost got us killed in here.”
That earns a laugh. Finally. “Yeah. Get it together, man.”
Syl watches us, patient. I love that, despite the time limit on us, despite the fact that she must be chomping at the bit to be off, she waits. Knows how important this is. My estimation of her rises another notch.
She touches Mika’s arm, claws snicking inward as she does. “I have been with you less than half the time Sam has, and I have already… Fucked up… More than either of you. Leaving you behind. Not communicating.” Her gaze lowers. “For that, you should have left me, but you have not. And I will fight to earn the trust you place in me.” Her grip tightens. “None of us are perfect.”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” Mika takes both our hands. “You’re both complete screw ups and would be lost without me. Let’s go. I’ll be ready. And… I’m so happy you’re both here.”
I look between them, struck momentarily by how fucking lucky I am, despite where we are. Struck by how connected to them both I am. I’m not sure when we became a true trio, but we are. It is what it is.
My blood heats a moment as I wonder what that means for… Later. When we’re all alone.
Not now. We continue forward, moving faster now that our goal is in sight.
A cottage, I come to realize. Squatting like one of the hills it rests between, it’s a low pile of wood and thatch, completely at odds with the brickwork and industry of the city behind us. The inviting glow of a fire spills through its little windows, bathing us as we draw close. The smell of something delicious settles over us like a warm blanket. Stew, maybe. Despite not being hungry, my mouth waters. The door is cracked invitingly, tempting us to open it like a beckoning finger. There’s no sound from within, no movement.
It’s so perfect, so lovely.
It’s definitely a trap.
The women appear to agree. We stop together about twenty feet away.
“Scout it?” Mika says, voice hushed.
I glance at the clock, afraid of what I’ll see.
00:59:29
Less than an hour left. “Not sure if we have time to explore other options. Syl?”
“I agree. We have been led here. If this is the challenge of this trial, we should meet it head on. Attack.”
“Alright. Let’s go.”
17
Somewhere Between
Room Timer: 00:59:22
Astra paces her study, watching and wracked with indecision.
The aspirants have already cleared the first challenge of the fifth trial. Leaving the main boulevard, venturing off the beaten path showed daring. Courage. Intelligence. Not doing so would have killed them, eventually.
But that was the easiest part. What’s coming…
Astra grinds her teeth, sits. After a moment, she stands and resumes pacing. Wishes she could cast away the worry, the fear, the anger. Wishes she’d never been granted the ability to feel. To worry.
To care.
No aspirant has ever finished the fifth trial. Few have ever made it this far, and though its appearance always changes, its challenges and temptations remain the same. And, for the two thousand, two hundred and thirty-eight aspirants that have come before, they have been insurmountable.
And after this, there are four more trials. Trials that no soul has ever reached.
Granted, there have been none more promising. Astra remembers every soul that’s ever run the Citadel before Sam, Mika, and Syl. There were some that she held hope for. Some stronger, more aggressive, more intelligent. But in every case, the teams failed. Through arrogance, or lack of trust in each other, or simply because they weren’t good enough.
At first, Astra simply thought humans were weak. That their failures and inevitable deaths were simply a byproduct of a system built to weed out those who weren’t worthy. A system built to elevate the best and strongest.
A system meant to find the ones who would save those that were left.
Over time, her opinion has changed. There have been teams that have come before that were incredible, that cleared the challenges faster than Sam’s. Teams that, though less cohesive, Astra thought could go all the way.
All failed. All died.
How many? How many did she watch perish before she realized that the deck was stacked the whole time?
That none were meant to succeed?
She doesn’t know why. Why a system meant to save the world was built to fail from the start. Ambition? Corruption? Or perhaps they simply overestimated the aspirant’s abilities.
In the end, the why doesn’t matter. Time is running out.
And Astra has already cheated once.
She’s lucky, that the Shepherd did not notice. That she slipped between the rules of the Citadel, her quicksilver attention brief enough that she got away with it. But will it be enough?
But watching now, knowing what’s coming, Astra is increasingly convinced of one thing.
She will have to cheat the rules again.
Even if it kills her.
18
Chamber 5
Aspirant #2239
Room Timer: 00:53:01
I pause at the cottage door, hand on the rough wooden handle. I give the women a long last glance. Syl’s onyx claws are almost invisible blades in the dim light, and Mika holds Inferno tight, its gem banked to a low glow. I heft my rifle in my offhand, check that it’s on shotgun mode
We’re ready.
Just before I yank the door open, ready to burst in, a voice rings out. Lilting and soft like a caress. “Oh, do hurry up.”
I cast a bewildered glance back at the women. Their wide eyes mirror my surprise. After a few pregnant moments, Mika shrugs. Syl’s tongue flicks out, a movement I’m increasingly associating with caution, before she purses her mouth. “As before, what choice do we have?” she whispers.
“Well, if you’re going to be like that, maybe we’ll rescind our invitation.” This is a different voice than the first; deeper, husky, amused.
“Yes. It’s been long since our hospitality was so abused.” A third voice, higher than the first two, older and sophisticated. At her words, the door moves suddenly, slowly closing.
“Wait!” I say, pulling the handle a bit too roughly. I’d expected resistance, someone closing it from the other side. But there’s no resistance, and it swings wide so fast I almost lose my grip on it.
“Well, that’s better. I’ve never been averse to a little male… enthusiasm.” The second voice, purring like a cat.
I step into the doorway, and it takes my eyes a moment to adjust as parts of the room coalesce a bit at a time. A firepit, wide and banked low at the center of the room with a small black cauldron hanging above it. Some kind of pink and purple smoke drifts lazily upward toward the chimney at the center of the domed roof. A chimney surrounded by thousands of bunches of tiny herbs of a hundred varieties, hanging like pointing fingers bound with twine. There are shelves full of little pots and pestles and books and scrolls, bracketed by a few chairs layered in furs and pillows.
And resting in those chairs? Perfection.
It’s not an exaggeration to say that that the three women watching us with languid stares are the three of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. All three are utterly different, and all three are too perfect to be real. They are utterly silent as we take them in, jaws slack. Their clothes are so thin they’re basically invisible, somehow obscuring yet displaying every inch of their flawless bodies.
The first, in the middle of the room at the far side of the fire, is the eldest. She is maybe in her early thirties. She rises first, a little smile on her face as she saunters toward us. “Astrid.” From her thin ruby lips, the word is foreplay. Long blond hair falls around her shoulders, framing high cheekbones and flashing, intelligent dark eyes. She’s taller than me, with a dancer’s body; small, high breasts, a tiny but muscled waist widening to the kind of hips it’s impossible not to imagine fitting your hands around, and legs that really do seem like they go on for miles. She looks like the fantasy version of someone’s headmaster, the kind that spanks you for getting math problems wrong.
I try to swallow, mouth suddenly dry.
The next to rise is at Astrid’s right. Much shorter than her, she’s plump, thicker than Mika even with curves that look like they want to rip through the invisible silk that drapes her. “Agetha,” she breathes, showing teeth as she takes me in. Her hair is as long as Astrid’s and is the same almost clear blond. It’s curled to tease and bounce around wide blue eyes and the fullest, lushest lips I’ve ever seen. She joins Astrid on the other side of the fire, shrugging in pleasure at its heat with a jostle that threatens to pop her magnificent tits clear out of her dress.
Mika’s hand tightens in mine.
“And I’m Annabelle,” says the last, drifting upward like she’s weightless. The youngest of the three by far, she comes forward far more demurely. Her eyes are cast downward, obscuring a smattering of freckles and a tiny, pert nose. She’s not quite as tall as me, and her body is developed but still lacking maturity; full, per breasts, and wider proportions than Astrid’s that somehow hint at not being finished filling out. She’s barely a day past eighteen if I’m any judge, something I got pretty good at figuring during long nights at the bars hunting for someone to take home.
Three women, beautiful and alone. A comfy, folksy cottage filled with herbs and books. A cauldron over a low fire, complete with smoke that’s already worming its way into my lungs, slowing my thoughts. These must be…
Astrid stops before me. “And we are the…”
“Witches!” I blurt.
Mika giggles, against her will, by the way it bursts free. I think the smoke is affecting her, too.
Momentary annoyance flashes across Astrid’s porcelain face before disappearing like a stone dropped in the ocean. “Well, yes. There are some that call us that. But we prefer to be called The Wayward Sisters.”
Something about that tugs at my memory, but my thoughts are sluggish, and I push it aside for later. I bite my tongue, hard enough to draw a bead of blood. The pain sharpens my attention and I blink. “We’re very pleased to meet you.”
“Ohh, so handsome, and with manners, too.” Annabelle bounces close, puts her hands to my chest and raises her face up to mine. Her full lips are parted, and her tongue darts out in a little lick. “Please, sisters, may I have this one? It’s been so long, so long since one came this far. I still have so much to learn.”
Before I can protest, Agetha’s voice cracks out like a whip. “Annabelle. Manners.”
The young witch colors deep red, reluctantly releasing her grip on my shirt. She backs away, but not before brushing my cheek with a little kiss that burns like I’ve been branded. It lingers with heat and pleasure that worms its way into my blood.
I back away a step, taking Mika and Syl with me. Mika’s face is red, fixed on Annabelle like she wants to kill her right now. Syl is silent and waiting, face perfectly composed, but she grips my wrist tight. She senses it, too. This is more dangerous than what we left behind in the city. I don’t know how we know. We just do.
Astrid watches me, smiles deeply. “Mmm. Cautious, too. It’s no surprise that you’ve made it so far after so many have failed before you.”
Despite the fog trying to wrap my brain, something about this shouts for attention. “Wait. Those that have come before? Do you mean… Other aspirants?”
Agetha comes close, eyes raking Mika before turning to me. “Indeed. What else would we mean, mighty hero?”
“It’s just…” I don’t know how to explain it, or how much I should reveal. Everything about this seems so obviously wrong; the smoke, their bodies, like it’s all built to batter at our defenses. And once they’re lowered? I swallow again, wish I had water. Annabelle’s gaze rests at my crotch where my cock already throbs, straining against my pants. I have a feeling that if we succumb, we won’t survive.
“It’s just that, so far, within these… trials,” I say, gesturing out toward the city, “no one knew who we were. Or at least, these places don’t really exist, do they? This is all fake, to test us?”
“Fake?” Annabelle laughs, a high, amused lilt that tries to carry my heart with it. “I certainly hope not. It’d be so much harder to enjoy you later if I was a figment of someone’s imagination,” she says, giving me a little smile. Her face is soft, so young. Despite only being a few years younger than Mika she seems impossibly more innocent, making the way she’s looking at me feel so… wrong.
“Let me clear a few things up, as I know that time is not our friends, tonight,” Astrid says, nodding to my wrist display.
“You know about this, too?” I say, tapping the display. “We’ve only met one
other who…” I stop myself, suddenly sure I don’t want to give them anything more than I already have.
“The silver one?” Agetha purrs, eyes rolling back. “Mmm. So delicious. We will have her one day soon.”
“Take hold of yourself, sister,” Astrid says, lips pinched. “Don’t be unseemly.”
Agetha rolls her eyes, strolling back to her seat as she blows a kiss at her sister’s back.
“How do you know about her? About us?” Syl asks, words sharp and unslurred. Is the smoke not affecting her?
“Hmm,” Astrid says, walking up to Syl so smoothly it's like she’s floating. “Interesting. You, my dear, are an aberration.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, frowning.
“I’ve never seen her like before. The silver one must be desperate.” Syl crouches low as Astrid circles her, which seems to amuse the witch even more. “Personally? I don’t think it’ll make a difference.”
“Then you don’t know Syl very well,” I say, stepping between them.
“Yes, yes. Don’t be tiresome.” Astrid finishes her circuit and returns to her chair. She sits, crossing her legs in a motion that almost impossible to tear my eyes from. “To business. You have a goal, of course. To escape this dead city of ours.” She leans forward, steepling her fingers. “We can help you.”
“But you want something in return,” I finish.
“How delightfully astute. I swear, most that come through here are absolute brutes. Capable of swinging a sword or their manhood around, but when it comes to brains?” She looks from Syl to Mika. “Let’s just say that they never would have made it this far without the fairer sex at their side.”
“There’s something to be said for dumb brutes, though,” Agetha says, her words almost a moan. “Such stamina.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Annabelle bites out. “Some of us are greedier than others.”
“Yes, yes, we all know you’ve got your sights set on Sam, my dear,” Astrid says.
“Of course you know our names,” Mika says, lips tight. Her eyes are slightly unfocused, but it looks like she’s staying afloat on a raft built of anger.
Aspirant: A Sci-Fi Harem Adventure Page 24