“As far as your physical services are concerned, I will decide if they are required.”
When he did not reply, she moved to the second marker and continued. “I am sure you thought you would be assigned this project. However I am in charge now,” she reminded him rudely.
“I will suffer your presence only because you have been inside One Nine. Is this clear?”
He nodded. Just being alone with her had done something inside him. The depth of his feelings was no surprise, but the swiftness of its control was an issue. What is this? He needed to adjust. He would not open himself to danger until he knew just what these feelings were.
“Your answer is required, Hunter Kimraig.”
“Replace me immediately. I choose not to take orders from a witch.” It is time to find out how much she needs my help.
“You do not have a choice.”
Leader Breen turned back to the copy of his proposal. Ignoring him, she moved to the third marker and continued. “My attack force will form in the basement of Number 5 Building tomorrow morning before the Wicca Council meets.”
They would not begin their journey from Number 4 Building as Kimraig had outlined for the Crosser doctor on the roof last night. Did she draw this line to mark the project as her own—or something more serious? He allowed his block to crumple slowly. Testing her ability again just as he often did when she approached his building sites. When he felt her begin to probe, he let his block collapse, daring her to follow.
You will not catch me this time. Leader Breen slowly withdrew from him. It was useless to pretend. She could not keep the memories of her first mating away from her thoughts. Aroma hit first, his freshly scrubbed body trailing a light dusting of mint.
As he stepped behind her, she closed her eyes as if this were not happening; she wanted to be somewhere else. Hands lightly but firmly held her shoulders as his tongue raked the nape of her neck. A broken trail of hot wetness traced her spine. There was less than two inches from her shoulders down to the first press-close fastening holding the top of her throw away gown. Nipping teeth tugged it open.
Breen’s arms locked tightly against her sides...
“Leader Breen, for the second time, you will be assembling our force in full view of Crosser observers. You are letting them know our intentions before we start.”
She stared at him as if she had not heard; she had not. Looking away, lost in thought, and then quickly recovering, Leader Breen flipped to the third marker and spoke.
“They were paid handsomely to ignore my troops, one time only.”
“Leader, did the Wicca authorize this bribe?”
“Let me rephrase.” Breen had remembered the spilled blood of two other Leaders this man had murdered when they committed treason. She needed another, more subtle, approach.
“My explanation has been arrogant at best, Hunter Kimraig. All these arrangements cleared the Wicca Council weeks ago. They thought it best to tell no one until this afternoon.” Okay, I can work with this. Breen continued, “They have requested you and I need your help.” There, the worst part is over.
“You are exposing our troops needlessly.” There it was again, quick crushing emotion signaling loss when nothing was missing. Kimraig was, for the first time, overly protective of a female.
“You must be prepared to sacrifice anyone for the good of this mission.” Breen steeled herself to ask her final question. “Can you do that?”
“It makes little difference. If we must remain at One Nine, then we will all die protecting you until the Wicca sends reinforcements.”
“Answer my question.”
“I will not sacrifice another Queen or a Leader. That is the best I can offer.” He thought for a moment. “You should find another Hunter.”
“That is not an option.”
Why had she asked? It was academic but the women somewhere inside had to know if she was safe.
“Viral-1 was a traitor. She deserved to die,” she said trying to fill the void.
“Not by the hand of the Hunter sworn to give his life for hers,” he said.
“Did you service her?” That question had nothing to do with anything. Why did she keep asking these stupid questions? It did not matter that Viral-1 did not like males as lovers. “I did not. I would have done my duty, if she had wanted that from me. It would not have been obligation but pleasure. We had a different bond, a bond of equals not Queen and consort.”
“If she was your equal, then why did you kill her?”
“You know why. You were there that day. The battle was not lost. If our group had stood down, the Wicca would have ceased to exist. Viral-1 chose to betray her government.”
“How could you think I would know? You didn’t even see me that day.”
“I saw. You, a novice Queen, had taken the high ground, the landing above the steps leading to the Council Chambers. Only a suicide attack would drive you from that position. Three Battle Groups and our commanding Queen lay slaughtered around you. They had taken twice again as many with them. The novice Troopers of your Battle Group pulled spears from their own flesh and threw them up to you. Weapons—so your remaining five could kill again. You were outnumbered; twenty one against your six, but the battle was still in doubt.”
Kimraig paused and pointed towards Breen’s left shoulder and sword arm where he knew the puckered scars remained from that battle. “Viral-1 was not the only causality.”
“I thought you were their rear guard.” Leader Breen fought back the old fear, as she was once again back on those steps. Wounded, fighting shoulder to shoulder, resigned to death when additional troops arrived to finish them; instead, reinforcements.
“You killed the two Gender Leaders when they would have surrendered.”
“It had to be. After killing Viral-1, the Wicca’s only course of action toward me was a death sentence. I had nothing to lose. We learned in the same classroom, you and I. ‘Gather your enemy’s weapons before you celebrate victory.’ Those two were weapons.”
Leader Breen repeated the mantra all Troopers learned in the classroom. “No Trooper leaves the enemy’s weapons on the field of battle where they can be gathered and used against him!”
They each took a quiet moment over a shared victory. Leader Breen sensed an opening.
“Kimraig, please don’t speak until I’m finished.” For once, a new tactic for her, she waited. Receiving no response, she held the enlarged battle plan out to him, open at the fourth and final maker. “Reports from the Wicca’s security teams indicate there will be an attempt to terminate you, tonight.”
He took the report from her and began to read. A low chuckle once, then twice until he finished. He had one comment only. “A complete report—this just might work.”
She could see his course of action was quickly forming and chose not to wait.
“You will stay in this room tonight. As a Leader, I have certain rights. One of them is to take a permanent mate. I will introduce you at Wicca Role Call as that mate. This is for their benefit and your protection only. In practice, you remain my Hunter, which may or may not require you to be my consort.” A small mound of seed held out to a foraging crow.
“I will take my chances out in the hallways.” Kimraig turned to leave.
“Too late for that, your gear is being moved at this moment.”
“Do I have a choice?” Kimraig asked. He had not had one yet tonight.
“None, your uniform and battle armor will be delivered to you tomorrow morning in plenty of time for you to get to the basement for our departure.” Leader Breen was in control now. She knew she had to soften her stance.
“Just as you are reluctant to sacrifice another Leader, I cannot risk losing you until we have examined One Nine.”
“You will be here with me, I suppose.” he eyed the double sleeping mat as he spoke.
“My Hunters and I will spend this last evening together. Tomorrow they report to their new Queen.” When he did not answer, she left him an ope
n invitation. “There will be other evenings.”
“Yes Miss.” Always address females with the proper grace. He would not be controlling her with sex as he had before. Oh well, a good night’s sleep would have to do.
She turned her back on him and made her exit from a door hidden behind the mirror. She hoped to leave Kimraig behind, but it was not to be. Memories of him would not leave her alone.
Flattened hands force their way between her biceps and ribs, being careful not to tickle. Gently, her elbows lifted away from her gown, finally letting it slide to the sleeping mat. Hands, with his fingers leading, lightly stroked every inch of her.
Warm hands—open lips with flicking tongue—working its way down her back.
No air, knees are paste, falling.
Arms twist her to face him, loss of balance, automatic reflex, open legs seeking.
Finally—release.
It made no difference. She knew she could not stop what would happen tomorrow, but at least she had kept him away from the hallways.
Along the five different approaches to Kimraig’s quarters, teams of assassins melted back into the nooks and crannies of Number 4 Building.
* * *
Number 5 Building
Inside the Builder’s Council Chambers
10:15 AM next morning
Seven votes in all and no decision. For the first time in over two hours, the multitude fell mostly silent. When quiet had fully settled, the Sergeant at Arms noticed the imposing woman standing in the open chamber doors. One glance was enough to send the Sergeant running towards the Leader of Leaders who stood addressing the assembly.
Mistress Ann had not worn her indigo blue robe identifying her as a Superior. Instead, she had dressed in the travel jacket and trousers she favored when alone in her building. She would not be here, had Leader Breen not called her with a problem.
The teleprompter was in total control of Leader Pace, the Leader of Leaders and number one in the Wicca Council. She did not hear the quiet suddenly descend around her. She did not feel, or choose not to feel, tugs to her clothing. Her speaking consumed her completely. Only a loudly shouted command and pointing arms brought her out of memorized preparation.
Had the Sergeant at Arms shouted at her?
Once the identity of the old woman forced itself into her conscious mind, Leader Pace almost flew down the two small steps to fetch the old woman. The reigning Mistress of the Five Superiors must not be kept waiting. Mistress Ann designed this ruling body, and took time to make sure no one changed the rules. A majority vote from these Superiors, who reported to her, could override any decision made on Council floor. And they did just as she demanded.
“Mistress Ann, 1st of One. Welcome.” Leader Pace tried to gloss over her lack of attention with a fawning smile.
Mistress Ann held her right index finger to closed lips. Leader Pace wisely shut her mouth and led the way to the podium.
Mistress Ann mounted the two steps and adjusted the microphone to her height. As if on cue, the double doors opened again. In parallel lines, Number 1 Building’s troops marched in to fan along the wall. The double doors remained open. Two full Battle groups entered, without their male Hunters. There was no sign on the door; every male knew not to enter this room.
“There are a dozen males in this room. Leave now or die.” Her voice was strong, vibrant for a woman just into her seventies.
When there was no response, one Battle Group broke into pairs and began to climb the steps. They knew exactly where they were going and so did fourteen individuals who quickly stood and headed for the double doors.
Mistress Ann nodded. She knew the extra two would not take a chance on staying.
Waiting for them to clear the chamber, she surveyed this house of laws designed and built to her own specifications. On each side of the lectern sat six additional Leaders. The single high backed chair at the back of the podium barely contained the portly body of Leader Pace. Twelve females were in their place...the ruling Wicca with one seat empty.
Leader Breen, the newest, should be sitting next to Leader Sala. She was in the basement waiting for the order to start a mission the Wicca had authorized. Now they were holding it up.
An additional twelve council members represented each of the five structures. Five tiered rows of seats, arranged in a large horseshoe, rose above the podium. Each of the tiered rows should hold twelve females. Now dozens of extras were sitting on the stairs and lounging against the railings. There should have been one empty seat in front of each tier, this reserved for that building’s single Superior. Not today—that seat and the visitor’s seats were filled with riffraff.
“There are people in this room who do not belong.” Mistress Ann paused, surveying the room. Her lips drew tightly together, biting off her anger. When she did this, all the work her secret beauticians did with their creams and salves was wasted. She looked more than her age.
“Out...now!” When they failed to more, her lips faked a thin smile. “Now.”
The offenders were not quick enough. With a negligible signal from her at the podium, pairs of Troopers used the butt of their spears to prod anyone not wearing a robe. There were a few wannabes in ill-fitting robes. There were a few obviously nervous individuals. One spear tip jabbed to the shoulder of an obnoxious female—a little blood—and the general exodus began.
When the doors closed, Mistress Ann’s Queens made a quick survey of the aisles and tiers. One turned to her, indicating the count was correct.
She addressed the assembly.
“You have all forgotten who you are!”
Then, ever so softly into the microphone, her voice rising at the end of each thought.
“You have a task before you! Yet here you sit. For three hours you sit, arguing about who should have the honor to govern One Nine.”
The Wicca seemed nailed to their seats. As if she did not have their attention, Mistress Ann clapped her hands once, close to the microphone. Ears hummed. No one moved. She had their attention now.
“The Wicca, all thirteen of them, chose yesterday. Leader Breen will govern One Nine.” She paused again, her arm rising along with her voice. A pointing finger circled the five tiers of seats.
“This assembly will not delay our expedition any longer.” Her pointing arm darted towards the double entrance doors.
“Because of you, I am forced to make one change.”
Massed troops formed in the open doorway. The four remaining Building Superiors entered, striding purposely in their ebony blue robes. Behind them, one, the youngest of the four, broke away to join Mistress Ann at the podium.
“The Wicca had chosen The 5th of Five, the Mistress of this very building.” She stopped for a moment, resting her hand on the shoulder of the woman beside her.
“She was to assist Leader Breen and oversee the interests of the Five Superiors. You made her wait.” Mistress Ann’s voice left no opening for questions.
“Instead, I will assist Leader Breen. She will stay and watch you.”
Shocked babble was instant. This was unacceptable. The Building’s Superiors could only make a decision like this if there was an impasse on the floor. They were not finished with their discussion. A general unrest began to spread.
“All five of your superiors are before you—a quorum.” As she spoke, the remaining troops who were massed outside the open double doors began to filter in.
“You have three seconds to state your case.”
The 1st of One kept time by rapping her knuckles on the microphone. Once, twice, then she spoke.
“I thought not. Our decision is final.”
Mistress Ann left the Chambers heading for the basement, her C-link at her ear.
* * *
Basement staging area
Below the Council Chambers
11:30 AM
We should have been on our way to One Nine by 7 AM. Kimraig continued to pace in the lower garage level. Instead she walks away and takes another call on her C
-link. At least this time she is just listening.
Where was that Mistress who had demanded to be part of this Journey?
Leave it to Leader Breen to come up with something else to delay our schedule. Inspect her two Hunters; she says, as if what I thought of them mattered. Kimraig had already seen enough, they were standing twenty yards away with their backs turned guarding the entrance down from the upper level parking. Leader Breen assigned them here, over four hours ago, before his guards had escorted him—unarmed—from her rooms. Good defense, it would give the two of them a chance to fight or run if the expected troops proved less than friendly.
Fine, then I will inspect them.
His heels clicking on the deep gray concrete, Kimraig completed a circle around them. Then he made the circle one more time, slowly.
Two young Hunters, two of them, almost mirror images.
He looked slightly up to each of them. The face on his right side was full, with muscles set in concentration. Only a twitch in the hooded nose betrayed his awareness of the man circling him. On the left, the second was all angles under the fullness, and dead eyes. Eyes set just a beat apart that revealed nothing. Their hair, he could not get his mind around their hair. Copper fire cropped close to the scalp. The close cut had failed to stop the curls.
Kimraig stared at himself, twice.
“This is forbidden,” he breathed, all thought of departure time forgotten.
“Not this time,” Leader Breen said moving to his side. “After that day on the training quad, when we saved the Wicca from capture, they were willing to grant me anything. I asked for my twin sons.”
“But they cannot serve...they must not serve...you should not...”
“Hmm. Service me you mean?” Leader Breen left Kimraig’s side, moving to her sons.
“Not all Hunters service their Commanders sexually, and certainly not my sons. But, an interesting concept,” she said as she trailed a soft finger along an angular, clenched jaw.
“Cullen here extended his service to the Mating Ritual well into his sixteenth year. You might think he was dedicated. I think he enjoyed his participation more then he let on.”
The 6th of Six (The Legend of Kimraig Llu) Page 6