by Bevan Greer
Jace occupied a private cell. Her father wanted the man separated from the strengthening presence of his crewmates, anything to weaken Jace’s impressive mental abilities. Bayna currently tortured a Fenturi in another cell, leaving three remaining prisoners that Naria should have seen moments ago. Yet there had been only Koneru and Castor. Where was the fifth member of the crew?
Puzzling over this new mystery, Naria didn’t hear her sister calling until she knocked into her.
“Oomph.”
“I’m sorry Carinna. I didn’t see you there.”
“Obviously. So how did it go?”
Naria described her encounter, leaving out her confusing fascination with Jace. “All in all, I think Father was pleased. I hope to revisit the prisoner later to see what more I can learn.”
Carinna studied her. “So he really withstood Father’s power?”
“Yes, at least until Father unleashed a physical wall of rage that knocked Jace unconscious. I’ve never seen anyone stand up to Father like that.” She wanted to talk to Carinna about what she really felt, except she didn’t know. And until she got a handle on her emotions, there was no sense embroiling her sister in the mess. “What have you been doing? Has Lord Feera been running you ragged again?”
“Just doing my duty to Dark World, Naria.” Odd for Carinna not to react to a subtle jibe about Lord Feera, her less than subtle would-be suitor. “Did you see Bayna’s handiwork with the Fenturi?” What was that inflection in her voice?
“I did see Bayna,” Naria admitted. “Our sister is quite adept at torture.”
“Wasn’t my information about the Fenturi correct?”
Naria couldn’t contain a blush. Untouched she might be, but a Dark Worlder’s knowledge of the carnal started at childhood, sexual awareness a way of life and a necessity for successful continuation of the planet. Since a demon could only reproduce every hundred cycles, sexual techniques to increase fertility and performance were practiced incessantly.
Lordess Xeche hadn’t pushed Naria toward sexual relations, content that in Naria’s ignorance she would remain apart, ever the embarrassment to Lord Demise that Xeche’s three progeny could never be. For his part, Naria’s father ignored her virginity. Naria thought he gave her a choice over her first mating out of deference to her deceased mother. His lust for Zena was the stuff of legends, and for that reason she suspected he let her off easy when he’d have taken his other offspring to task.
Carinna continued, “The Fenturi are legendary for their stamina and sexual prowess. All that energy they possess, the glow in their eyes, their skin, stems from an internal source. It’s apparently very erotic.”
Her words turned to incomprehensible chatter as Naria’s thoughts turned to sex and Jace. Perhaps her response to the stranger stemmed more from his Offworld presence than his maleness. She had never before felt such attraction for a male, and his alien presence would certainly account for such an anomaly.
She tuned back into her sister, aware Carinna seemed inordinately interested in all things Fenturi.
As they walked back to their father’s dwelling, unbeknownst to them, a silent alarm sounded.
-3-
Jace stretched his arms to the ceiling as high as his chains would allow him in an attempt to ignore the hunger pulling at his belly. He had no idea how much time had passed since his last altercation with Lord Demise, but it was enough to leave him famished. Worried too, since he hadn’t seen or heard from Naria. She’d been the only pleasant companion he’d found in this hellhole and would undoubtedly be the last.
He leaned back against the cold rock, bemused to feel attraction to the female in this awful place. Despite his harsh treatment in Dark World, his libido managed to live on. His crew would be proud, he thought with a snort.
Jace had been attracted to Naria’s beauty, for certain. She possessed a fine sensuality, delicate in form and feature. Narrow eyes slightly tilted at the corners, a straight nose, high sculpted cheekbones and strong jaw sat amidst an oval face with the smoothest, palest skin.
Though the lighting in the cell had been dim, Jace had studied every nuance of her looks. Her time on Dark World hadn’t marred her beauty. Did the demons realize how precious such allure held? Or was she a tempting seductress meant to tease him into telling her all his secrets? He couldn’t be certain she’d actually been imprisoned, but that bump on her head had been real.
When she’d opened her eyes, he’d been instantly intrigued, the deep purple depths of her gaze reminding him of the purple lakes of Mystique. The sudden and overwhelming longing for his homeworld she’d instilled had shocked him for its intensity.
Mystique. The name pulled him as nothing did. If only the planet would call to him, draw him back. But no. Mystique remained as out of his grasp as if he’d never been born there. Jace swore, his mission to save his homeworld never far from his mind. And in this hellish cell, further from solution than ever.
Thoughts of Dark World and the Cazeth persisted, entangling his reasoning. How likely might it be that the Cazeth originated in a place like this? As much as he wanted to escape the miserable planet, Jace couldn’t help a certain morbid curiosity for the inhabitants and their existence on Dark World. Lord Demise certainly fulfilled the horrific tails associated with the planet. Jace could easily imagine the Cazeth at home in such a place as well.
Footsteps sounded outside his cell, and he focused on shoring up his mental shields.
The door opened to admit the object of his latest nightmares.
“Jace. It’s good to see you’re awake again.”
“Lord Demise.” He wondered what the demon lord had in store for him.
With a wave of his hand, Lord Demise unleashed Jace’s bonds. Then the demon sat at a wooden table and invited Jace to sit with him.
Wary, Jace sat across from his jailer and rubbed his sore wrists.
“You interest me…human.” Demise’s cold, black eyes focused intently on Jace’s face. Jace felt a mental push against his barriers and held firm. Demise’s eyes blazed a bright red, the power behind his probe strong and fast, but Jace remained in control.
“Yes, you interest me,” the demon murmured, his eyes regaining their night-black color. “You are the first human I’ve encountered with such mental gifts. Your crewmates do not have such abilities.” He paused, as though waiting for Jace to answer him. When Jace said nothing, Demise continued, “You also seem to have a remarkable well of patience, yet I know seething deep within you is a coil of hatred waiting to be let loose.”
Jace said nothing but allowed that hatred release through his mental shields.
Demise chuckled. “Well can I appreciate the feeling. But I have to wonder why someone of your immense skills would lead his crew to certain death. No.” Demise forestalled comment. “Dear boy, let me finish. It’s obvious you are the captain of the SpaceStalker, even had your Second not confirmed such from his feeble mind.”
Angered though not surprised Demise had invaded the crew’s minds, Jace narrowed his eyes and asked, once more, “What is it you want from me? You know my crew fled a battle with the Meklens. We had no ulterior motive for landing here.”
“True. But you possess a mind as deep and dark as our core. Tell me where you come from, what exactly you can do with your abilities. In return, I’ll order my soldiers to be easier on your companions.”
Jace was aware that nothing he said fazed the demon lord. Whether he gave information or not, Demise would do as he wished. So how best to play his canny jailer?
“Perhaps I could tell you a bit about Dark World,” Demise surprised him by offering. “Like for like, hmm? I’ve sensed your curiosity about our planet. I’m more than willing to share.”
Jace gave a tentative nod.
“You are currently on Lysst, the first moon of Dark World. This is where we harbor prisoners. I can see by your surprise that you thought you remained on the planet.” Demise shuddered—and that was something to see. “Nothing but parasi
tes and predators live on Dark World proper. We higher beings occupy Dark World’s five moons.
“What you’ve been most fortunate to encounter in your time here are we of the elevated fold. Demon existence. We are the members of Dark World who control the mental planes of existence. Had you been discovered by our distant brethren, the devels,” he sneered, “you would most likely be dead now.”
“Devels?”
“Those foul creatures maintain control over the physical realm. Whereas demons delve into the psyche, devels control the elements and baser poisons deep within our moon and planetary surface. Had Devel Keeper Krital found you, he would have frozen or burned you to a crisp before tearing you apart limb by limb.”
Jace kept his face blank, his imagination soaring into overdrive. He should be thankful the demons had found them? Not likely. At least the devels would have provided a quick if not painless death.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Demise said. “But the devels are a tiresome bunch. Trust me. My thirst demons you’ve met already. We have succubae, incubi, wraiths, and many more who straddle the physical and ethereal realms.” Demise paused. “I wonder, can your System possess any creatures like us at all?”
“I’ve never met your like before.” Jace shook his head. “And hope never to meet it again.”
Demise grinned, showcasing long, pointed white teeth that stood out prominently against his dark red lips. Though he possessed human features, his skin had a pale tint that likely never saw the light of day. The expansive black wings now tucked against his back confirmed his demonic background.
Seeing Jace’s gaze on his wings, Demise flexed them and held up one hand. His nails lengthened into talons. “My body has a far more advanced protective system than that of any human offworlder.”
Demise slid the long, black chitinous claws against each other, over and over again. Jace frowned, feeling something…off. But the sound kept him from thinking too hard about it. It was mesmerizing—too much so. Before Jace could add yet another layer of mental defense, Demise struck him a jarring psychic blow with the force of a whip.
Jace did his best to resist while Demise worked to steadily chip away at his inner shields. Like tiny knives chiseling at his brain, Demise’s insidious curiosity beat at Jace’s head.
Weakened from his time in captivity, it was no surprise Jace had faltered. Needing to stop the pain and prevent Demise from accessing his thoughts, Jace threw out a random image.
Demise immediately stopped his assault. “The Cazeth? What do you know of them?”
The vision of his hated enemy faded, and Jace settled behind his inner shields. A glance at Demise showed all pretense of amiability erased from the demon lord’s face.
“Tell me what you know of the Cazeth,” Demise ordered, his eyes tinted red, burning at the centers.
“They aren’t real. They’re just rumors and myth,” Jace answered coolly.
“Just as demons and devels are myth, hmm?”
Jace waited but Demise said no more. The demon lord stared at him as if searching for something. Finally he stood, his wings flared in what seemed like agitation before settling against his back.
“We’ll talk more later, boy. You will tell me what I want to know,” Demise promised. He moved to the door, paused, and turned back to Jace. “While I’m gone, think on what else I saw for that split second your mind lay open to me.”
Jace waited until Demise left before sagging to the floor. He sat, searching for an inner balance that seemed to have vanished.
It was only a matter of time before Demise wore him down. And he needed to do everything within his power to prevent Demise from learning the truth about his background.
The Psi, a mythical race of men and women with mental abilities beyond that of most System inhabitants, seemed as unreal as the Cazeth to most. Yet Jace knew all too well they were real. He’d been born a Psi, on the thirteenth Nearworld—Mystique.
No one actually believed that his kind existed, though rumors spread about mentally gifted beings alive and well on the outreaches of the System. But people attributed them to space anomalies, to those rare instances in life when odd mutations occurred.
Jace was one of a handful of Psi that lived away from Mystique. He had left the planet involuntarily, due to the soulless scum-sucking Cazeth and their leader, Orsan. He’d done his best to repel the invasion, but against such power, he’d been overpowered. The Cazeth had been a hairsbreadth from killing him when Orsan had stepped in. Orsan, in his wisdom, had sentenced Jace to a worse hell than death— to a life away from the living planet no Psi could do without.
Ripped away from his homeworld and sold to Kre pirates intent on slavery, Jace had wanted to die. Apart from anything that mattered, psychically blinded by the loss of his beloved, sentient planet and those he called family, he’d lived only for revenge against those who had caused such pain. But the pirates hadn’t appreciated his hostility. At all. Only with the help of a Fenturi girl not much younger than himself had he escaped. And with her, he’d started to find pleasure in the simple things again.
Dare had saved him, and the two had become best friends. In the time since, he’d served on the SpaceStalker as her Second, until a cycle past when she’d found her destiny on her homeworld of Bylar, and in the arms of her mate.
The cold floor of his cell seeped into his bones, and he sighed. Why wouldn’t his planet call him home? Mystique had a living soul, one that existed within all her inhabitants. Without Mystique’s will, Jace could never again find or live on his planet. For ten cycles he’d been growing his powers, practicing and readying for his confrontation with Orsan and the hated Cazeth.
He could only pray they hadn’t destroyed Mystique and any survivors that remained on the planet. At thoughts of his family, he concentrated on the present. No sense in inviting more unnecessary pain. He had enough to worry about in the here and now.
Were Castor and the others still alive? He couldn’t sense them. He was too drained from Demise’s punishment and too far away to feel their energy. He knew none of them would inadvertently tell Demise of his Psi abilities. No one except Dare knew of his gift. And he intended to keep it that way.
When Mystique called to him, and he prayed in his heart that she would, Jace would leave everything behind to save his dying race. Until that time, he would prepare for the coming battle.
And I can’t do that from within a dark prison cell.
Cursing himself for succumbing to weakness, he stood slowly and paced his cell, trying to figure out a way out of this mess.
He shivered as an icy breeze blew past him and quickly turned around. He felt another presence by him. Something insubstantial, yet there. He knew it. “Who’s there? What do you want?”
Silence answered him. The air around him returned to its normal coldness, but he wasn’t fooled.
Just what other creatures might exist on Dark World? Demise had mentioned succubae and wraiths, incubi and devels. Would Jace have the strength to overcome those as well as the demons guarding him? By Mystique’s Light, grant me strength.
And he thought of Naria, and what she might be feeling this moment. He swore again and continued to pace.
Naria spent much of the day restless. She needed to see Jace again, to test his resolve and pinpoint his strengths and weaknesses. She’d asked the guards some discreet questions and knew his ship remained intact. His crewmates were not expected to survive the moon’s waning though. Once they died, her father promised to make short work of Jace. Apparently the earlier session with Jace hadn’t gone very well. Her father’s dour expression said as much.
Her father sent a mental command. “Naria, come here.”
Naria found him sitting in his meditation chamber. He floated in the air wearing a thin black robe, his wings fluttering, his talons exposed, and his eyes blood red. Not good.
“I want you to revisit the prisoner. Jace.” Her father frowned. “He blocked me earlier with an unexpected image. Fortun
ately he was too slow to completely seal his thoughts, and I saw beyond what he’d meant to disconcert me. Effective, but not enough to deter me.”
She swallowed a smile. Her father and his pride. “Of course not, Father. You’re a mighty demon lord.”
“Yes, I am.” He smiled, but his joy seemed at her expense. “Oddly enough, in the prisoner’s mind, I also saw a vision of you.”
“Me?”
He seemed more than satisfied. “Yes. You made an impression on your last visit. I want you to go back. Talk to him. Do what you did before.” His eyes narrowed. “But before you go, rid the light from your body. You know what I’ve told you about the light cell, Naria. It’s not for you.”
He didn’t give her a chance to do as bid. In a flash, he drained her of the energy so recently accepted into her body. The loss made her weak, and her head throbbed in pain.
“If I find you’ve visited that cell again, repercussions will be swift. Demons do not gravitate toward the light.”
Foolish to argue, but it had to be said. “My mother was no demon.”
“Demons hate the light,” her father repeated and reached out to stroke her hair. Instead of grazing her hair, he reached past her forehead into her mind with his long-fingered hand, much as he had reached into Mrasha’s stomach. He twisted his fingers and ripped through her psyche.
Naria sank to the ground and screeched at the pain, unable to keep silent. Excruciating, humiliating, and another lesson learned. She knew better than to refute her father in one of his moods.
After what felt like forever but was likely no more than a few heartbeats, she blinked up at him.
He had removed his hand and stared down at her, his visage stern. “You are my daughter, Naria. The fruit of my seed. Zena merely carried you.” He said softly, “Demons hate the light, don’t they?” This time when he caressed her hair, she knew better than to talk back.