The Tenth Legion (Book 6, Progeny of Evolution)

by Mike Arsuaga

  Aliff had a single thing on his mind when he stepped into their separate area, casting aside his cloak, a complete bear skin he’d taken in a hunt the winter before. With fervor, he closed the distance to his young mate, covered in another bear skin, naked and yearning underneath.

  “Oh, my lord,” she gasped in feigned surprise. “What brings you to me tonight?”

  He stood tall before her, his vast shoulders tapering to a delicious, rippled abdomen, which glistened in the faint lamp light as if oiled. Leather britches laced in front with a huge bulging codpiece covered his loins. Thick copper tresses hung behind in two tight braids falling halfway to his waist.

  He stopped. “What is that?” He pointed to the symbol of the running serpents inscribed with the shape of the woman.

  “It is the goddess Mari, accompanied by consort Sugaar, to bless our special night.”

  “If Sugaar agrees to watch only, he may stay. As for the goddess, I have nothing to spare for her satisfaction.”

  Ignoring the blasphemous overtones of his proclamation, Cithara smiled at the compliment of forsaking the region’s dominant female deity for her. Nevertheless, religious decorum of the faithful required an admonishment. A simper accompanied the token. “Forefend, you must not speak so in the presence of a goddess.”

  Aliff grunted. Throwing off his britches, he stood naked in front of her. His magnificent masculine shape never failed to thrill. The scars he’d acquired since they became a pair added to his allure. Cithara judged the deities mollified with sufficient obeisance. She turned from them to the need she shared with Aliff.

  “Join me, my lord?” She lifted a corner of her covering.

  Shuddering once in the chill of their room, he wasted no time slipping under the bearskin. His manhood slipped into the warm cup of her lean hands. Her nearness warmed and soothed the windburn from the dry cold outside. Two wanton visages came together in a long, soulful kiss while each body, at the end of its capacity for denial, accommodated the other. Rolling him onto his back, she climbed on top.

  “Will you ride me like a beast of transport?” he chided playfully.

  Her thighs wrapped his hips, and their mingled sexual readiness saturated the small closed room.

  How fortunate I am to have the love of this man, the only one I’ve ever wanted.

  Finding his member, she moved it toward her yearning female cavity. The rod felt warm and smooth in her hand. Before inserting it, she ran a sharp-nailed finger down its length. When his body trembled under her touch, she marveled how she, so small, possessed such power over one so great. Then she pressed his sex into her hot wetness.

  Turbulent with passion, he writhed beneath her.

  Like holding a wolf by the ears.

  She rode up and down on his strained shaft, like a war club within her. His rising passion threatened to boil over into a morph. Abandoning restraint, she leaned forward to scrape her clitoris against his swollen, lubricated member. The raw contact of their intimate and sensitive parts brought on the culmination of their love. Her female core repeatedly embraced his masculinity, triggering a mutual climax. The best part of him gushed forth to slake the appetite of the beast that can never be sated, into a place where it was eminently cherished and appreciated.

  * * * *

  “Ms. Winters. Ms. Winters.” Donatello jabbed her awake. “It’s almost six. We have a lot of work to do.”

  Groggily, she sat up. “Sorry, I usually catch my sleep in the afternoon, right after shift.”

  “No problem, love,” he answered. “We have time. Let’s create Cinderella.”

  While Donatello worked on her, Lorna sensed a quickening tempo throughout the house. Servants scurried by in the hall, accompanied by a buzz of conscientious voices.

  “All right, darling,” said Donatello. “The masterpiece is finished.” They were in the passage between the walk-in closets. He turned on the last of the lights. Perched on the vanity stool, the hot glare pressed in on Lorna from everywhere. An opaque plastic sack covered her hair. “Let’s see what we have.”

  With a snatch of his wrist, he ripped away the cover. Lorna couldn’t help but gasp. The result more than justified the discomfort. The hairdo was still OPD regulation, but with subtle differences. The color deepened into a glossy, chestnut shade. The texture appeared thicker, framing her face in a more attractive way. Raising eyes heavenward in gratitude, she promised herself to cover this work of art at night to make the style last until the next century if she could, because for sure, none of the tonsorial idiots she dealt with back home could duplicate it.

  “Donatello, it’s beautiful!”

  “No more than you deserve, darling. Now, you’re perfect.”

  At ten–to–eight, a heavy knock rapped on the door. Donatello stepped back to admire his creation a last time. “Showtime.” He smiled. “Knock him dead, Princess.”

  Somehow, coming from him, the “P” word seemed appropriate. Maybe because he gave her the feeling of being one.

  The blond giant of a man who’d driven the car taking her from Floubert’s stood in the doorway. “Hello, Ms. Winters,” he said amiably. “I’m Ethan White. I’m pleased to meet you at last. Officially, that is.”

  “Hello, Ethan,” she replied, offering a hand while appreciating how well he cleaned up.

  “I see Father installed you in the First Parents’ room as I recommended.” Donatello raised a portentous eyebrow. “We dine tonight in the Green Room.”

  “Will there be others?”

  “No, ma’am, you are the only guest on the card.”

  Lorna turned to accompany Ethan, but paused when Donatello touched her arm. “Remember,” he whispered in her ear. “The room spoke to you as it has to no other. Let what you learned guide you.”

  Guide me? Guide me to do what?

  Passing the portrait of The First Parents, Lorna asked, “What do you do for the corporation, Ethan?”

  “Whatever Father needs. At present, my main task is participation in a research project to investigate extra sensory abilities of our kind. I did well on some screenings.”

  Rumors about the phenomena floated around. Once in a while a documentary popped up on the news feeds. According to them, a small percentage of The Others demonstrated clairvoyant or telekinetic powers. The corporation wanted to conduct further research. CI’s tight security lid kept public knowledge at the rumor stage. The world had more facts to support the validity of King Arthur’s court.

  “Now let me get this straight,” Lorna said. “You are from your father’s first wife.”

  “From his only wife. Mother was a hybrid. They were married fifty-one years. Father stayed with her until the end. Several times, she offered to set him free to seek a new mate, but he refused. A few years ago, she passed away. Since then, he’s been all work. He’s driven. It’s like there’s a countdown clock running somewhere and he has to be finished before it reaches zero.”

  The Green Room was about forty by twenty feet. A table of black, polished wood ran the long side. At the far end were two place settings. A massive high-backed chair sat at the head, while a smaller, daintier one occupied the first place to its right.

  How cozy.

  Ethan stated the obvious. “Your place is to Father’s right.”

  Lorna took her seat. For an instant, a devilish inspiration urged her to shift the settings around, even of occupying the place at the head of the table.

  Were you supposed to sit here? I’m so sorry.

  But the outcome of her temerity would undoubtedly be to hold some innocent employee responsible, so she took her place.

  Ethan chuckled in a tone suggesting he understood her plot. Taking his departure, he said, “Enjoy your evening.”

  Within a minute or so, two men dressed in formal wear threw open a set of massive wooden doors at the other end of the room from where she had entered.

  “The Chairman enters,” one of them announced at the top of his voice. Edward White, CEO of Coven Interna
tional—by some accounts the largest corporation in the world—strode into the room. Even taller than she imagined, he stood well over six feet.

  Upon seeing her, his face lit up with an anticipatory expression, the kind that accompanied chance encounters with a dear friend or lover knowing you have the rest of the day to enjoy each other. Why he acted this way, she had no clue. They’d met for the first time during their morning conversation via closed circuit television, hadn’t they? Could she remind him of someone? Was he being polite? Maybe it’s the magic wrought by the talents of Fairy Godmother Donatello.

  Or could he be nervous about this meeting too?

  “I apologize for the formal announcement,” he told her lightly. “It’s easier to let them stay with habit than to retrain them for the rarity like you.”

  Lorna tilted her head to one side. “A rarity like me? What am I, a dodo bird?”

  “Oh, no,” he answered, nonplussed. “What I meant to say is…well…I don’t often have guests for purely social reasons.”

  Talk about a first. A police lieutenant backed the most powerful critter in the world into a corner.

  His backing and filling reminded her of the man from her dream. The name and face floated on the fringes of her consciousness. A clear image, when she didn’t think too hard about him, but when she concentrated, the vision bolted into unexplored parts of her mind like a deer fleeing into forest undergrowth. However, beneath the silk shirt, gold cufflinks, and studs, she suspected there’d be a familiar, smooth-skinned, rock-hard chest like in the dream.

  A busy little server in a white chef’s hat brought out a silver tureen containing a mutton soup flavored with broccoli.

  The waiter placed a steaming bowl before Lorna. Dipping in a spoon, she sniffed the soup before tasting.

  “I’ll say this,” Lorna said. “You’re good feeders.”

  Ed smiled introspectively. “We try our best.”

  “Karla tells me you’ve shipped your Aunt Claire’s letters to your grandparents.”

  “That’s correct. And I’m sure soon they’ll express their personal thanks.”

  Lorna paused to appreciate the fibrous salty creaminess of the soup. “Does that mean I get kidnapped and hauled off to Mars?”

  Ed chuckled. “Oh, nothing as dramatic as that. More likely, a memento with a handwritten thank you.”

  “Tell me about your Martian colonies.”

  “There’s not much to say. The corporation, in joint venture with General Electronics, resumed the space program in 2046, after the government abandoned the project. We rebuilt the space station and the moon base. By 2060, we were ready to challenge Mars. General Electronics opted not to participate. Weapons contracts were more lucrative, so we bought them out. Did you know our kind make ideal astronauts, especially for voyages beyond the moon? Were she alive, I think Aunt Cynthia would have been the first to go. Ever the adventuress, that one.”

  “She’s Karla and Thomas’ mother, the one who died in the Great Plague, isn’t she?”

  “Yes. From childhood, my father adored her. Just after he turned eighteen, my grandparents blessed a union between them.”

  “And you’re their half-brother.”

  “That’s correct. My mother is Rebecca. Before I came along, she carried Karla and Thomas to term.”

  “To carry someone else’s children, that’s pretty unselfish.”

  Ed broke off a piece of bread to float in his soup. “That’s how much she loved my father.”

  The sincerity of Ed’s voice confirmed a depth of character, attractive to Lorna. Was this incident contained in a vignette of the room with the round bed?

  “Cynthia Meadows wasn’t actually your father’s aunt, right?”

  “Correct, Cynthia was a close friend of my grandparents. She met them in the early days before her emergence. My father and his siblings called her Aunt.” Sipping the soup, he turned an almost hypnotic green stare on her. “What about you? What’s your life like?”

  Before answering, she took a last spoonful of soup. “You already know what I do. I try to stay one step ahead of the bad guys, but it seems to be a losing battle lately. The cold case files get bigger and bigger.”

  “Any interesting cases you can talk about?”

  The Gomez case popped to mind. “Yes, there is one. Maybe with a little help from your records, especially the DNA base, we could solve the mystery.”

  “Oh?” he asked, leaning forward. “Tell me. I love to solve whodunit mysteries.”

  She almost burst out laughing at the idea someone who called serious crimes “whodunits” could contribute anything useful. “Really?” Putting the spoon down, she wiped her hands on the napkin, and then righted her position. “Well, we think we have a feral coven working the area. The record shows, there hasn’t been one outside of a Third World country in sixty years, but this one appears real. Two families, six people are dead. All are human. The attacks appear to be made by lycans. They abduct one member of each family, killing the rest. A few days later, the missing one turns up, minus the parts that were eaten.”

  “Tell me, what parts are consumed on those who’ve been abducted?”

  Lorna stroked her chin. “Let me see. The liver, kidneys, and lungs from the first and, if I remember correctly, the eyes, liver, and uterus of the second.”

  “Were the organs torn out, or was it a clean extraction?”

  His interest impressed her. “They were removed with almost surgical precision, as a matter of fact. We have DNA samples from the attackers. If we run them through your database, it’ll save time. You have a DNA file on almost every member of the community.”

  “I see. The DNA, if it’s in our files—and it probably is—closes your case.”

  “Otherwise, we have to run the samples through larger, less-reliable bases, which take a lot longer.”

  “How intriguing. Tell me more,” he said, with obvious fascination. “Remind me, before you leave, to give you access to our DNA base. Please, go on.”

  “Well,” she continued. “There’s a symbol we found, along with one of the Tenth Legion.”

  “A symbol? What kind?”

  “It’s hard to describe. Picture two serpents. Each shaped in an ‘S’ and placed at right angles and…”

  By then, he’d smoothed out a linen napkin worth three days’ pay, and with a pen, drew the symbol, complete with the female outline. “Is it this?”

  “Yes, that’s it. What does the glyph mean? Do you know?”

  “Those are representations of the goddess Mari, accompanied by her consort Sugaar. These are pagan deities of the Basques. They predate Christianity. My grandfather, Jim White, after spending some time with a feral pack in the Pyrénées, translated a collection of documents given him by Malvina Arriago.”

  “Yes, I remember. She was one of the founders of the corporation From Basque country, if memory serves.” Another tidbit dredged up from recent Internet searches.

  “She lived to be almost three hundred. Throughout her life, she kept journals and collected documents for the purpose of collating them into a definitive history of The Others. The formal title was The Other Kind but that one has fallen into disuse. Anyway, Grandfather Jim completed the work fifty years ago, but he now believes there’s more to the story.”

  “More? In what way?”

  “The documents are written in four languages, a good part of it in archaic forms. A few months ago, Grandfather announced a discovery. In the papers, he found what he believes is a reference to an earlier set of First Parents.”

  “How can it be? The story’s well-known. Until Jim and Sam met, vampires and lycans each believed the other to be a myth.”

  “All true, but there are references in Basque, as well as Latin texts, to a couple, a vampire and a lycan. According to legend, the future emperor Vespasian discovered them in Spain. The pair joined his entourage and counseled some of the greatest emperors.”

  “Are you saying my kind and vampires interbred fre
ely back then?”

  “No. The large majority of us arrived in the old-fashioned way, by mutation. In all the Pyrénées, there may have been three or four of each kind. Lycans called their groups packs. Vampires used the term coven. Unaware of each other, both kinds ranged from the Bay of Biscay to the Mediterranean. When they hunted, they also kept eyes opened for pre-emergent children, knowing enough to take them along. But what if a pack carried away the wrong kind? Suppose for once, instead of using the error for prey, when they realized their mistake, they allowed it to emerge? There are hints such an event happened.”

  “I don’t understand the advantage.”

  As he spoke, her stare never left him. For sure, he wasn’t hard to look at. Her impression of Ed White took a sharp turn for the better when Ethan told her how he’d stayed with a hybrid wife until the end. Few of The Others, especially males, showed such loyalty. The night before, Lorna was ready to give her heart and body to a two-timing lowlife like Jerry because he threw a few roses and a fancy meal her way. Ed’s passion blended with the sincerity in his eyes to create an attractive effect. She decided his chances improved by the minute.

  “If there were hybrid children, they’d be indistinguishable from humans. They could blend in, inoculating the human gene pool. Since hybrids are able to breed with humans, they’d spread our genetics around the world. The bottom line is the mutation is local to Europe, but the inoculation isn’t.”

  “How does the symbol of the god and goddess enter the picture?”

  “It might lead to learning the identity of the earlier First Parents. At least, Grandfather thinks so.”

  “Well, he’s a little far away to be any help, so I guess it’s up to us.”

  Ed sighed. “I have staff working on the details. My son Toby left for Mars five months ago at his great-pop’s request to follow up, but nothing must interfere with the Mars project.”

  Wanting to ask him why he led the corporation to put so much importance on the colonies, instead she said, “What’s the rush? It’s not as if the earth is going anywhere.”