by Martin, CJ
“Yes, High Lady,” said a Perazim bowing low in the doorframe.
She turned even as she knew it was not the general. He had sent a surrogate.
By the weaving of the fabric of the cloak that the Perazim was wearing, she was looking down on a low-ranking messenger. The general, no doubt, had predicted—quite correctly—that she would be displeased by his performance. The fool had not wanted to risk anyone beyond a mere messenger.
“Where is General Carritos?”
“High Lady, he is coordinating with the Perazim groups. He commanded me to report to you in his stead.”
“Report, then.” She deferred her wrath over the slight, waiting to mete out punishment until after gaining the needed information. Even still, her words dripped venom.
Although the Perazim could not see her—he had his head low—she made sure he knew that she was in a dangerous mood.
“High Lady, all units have reported in this hour.”
She already knew what message the creature before her had brought, but she would have him spit it out. It was always amusing to her how fear could affect one’s actions. This Perazim had great cause to fear and yet, she saw no evidence of that very rational fear.
Since the recreation of the old orders, little was known of the Perazim order. Even Kaileen who had rediscovered the ancient paths lacked a good understanding. Of course, she knew the words and the motions that would transform a pitiful Nephloc into a masterful Perazim, but not the whys or hows.
The Perazim before her sparked the interest of the scholar within. Curious. This one had quickly shorn off the old Nephloc fears and weaknesses. She had not been present at his ascension, but she could tell the ceremony had been recent.
“And?”
“No additional targets have been discovered as of yet.”
She took a few steps forward, intentionally amplifying the sound of her heels as they clicked upon the rock floor.
“Rise.”
The Perazim obeyed but kept his head low. She noticed that he modified his size to remain a few inches below her height. It was a minor point of protocol, one often overlooked.
“And the general still could not take the time out of his schedule to visit me? One would think his failure to find more Temporal would allow the general ample time to report to me.” She waited a few seconds before adding, “How...inconsiderate.”
The Perazim immediately fell to one knee, a type of wordless apology.
She took a step forward and was mere inches from the kneeling dark figure. She leaned over and with two fingers, she lifted his head up.
He had been given a glorious face. Rotted flesh had been replaced with an inorganic substance that resembled flesh, flesh that was far stronger. Perazim were the butterfly; Nephloc were the worms. He, as a worm, had survived the crucible and had come out strong and beautiful. He was very much to her liking.
The Perazim kept his face up even as she removed her fingers. His eyes never flinched. She knew he understood how dangerous a predicament he was in, and she marveled at his self-control. She would research the archives to learn what manner of Nephloc he had been. If she could discover a pattern, then perhaps she could create others in a similar mold. With just the right recipe, she, with an army of fearless and strong warriors under her command, could rule the Underworld, perhaps even overtake her master in power.
Her thoughts moved from admiration to a desire to test the warrior. She wondered how long it would take to break him.
Her right wrist twisted inward, drawing something from her pocket. In a flash, the hand held a metallic object. The sound it made as it sliced through the air was pleasing to her. But the sight of it slicing into his throat was more so.
Perazim had no blood. Except for parts of the brain, all organic matter was burnt away during the initiation, leaving only a pure spirit to be imprisoned in a new artificial body. Even still, only the most experienced and the most hardened Perazim can face death and laugh.
His laughter was loud and inspiring. Her lips turned upward as she licked them moist. Without thought of the propriety of the act, her right hand extended out, caressing his cheeks with her fingers, bidding him to stand at her level. Her lips followed, locking with his in a long exchange.
She expected everything. She felt nothing.
The momentary grip of lust loosened. Her general was failing her and the remarkable specimen before her could not placate her desire to mete out punishment. Instead of the general coming to her to admit failure, he had sent a toy. An offering, perhaps? Or more likely a way to convert her rage into lust. General Carritos knew too much about her, about her weaknesses. He had grown dangerous and had outlived his usefulness. Too often he had failed to deliver; too often he had failed to give her proper respect under protocol. And now he was attempting to play with her. She would punish him and then replace him.
But first this pet...
The hand that had caressed his cheeks a moment before withdrew into a fist. She took a step back and without physical contact, she lifted her hand up. With it, so rose the Perazim, unwillingly.
She had grown powerful over the centuries, far more powerful than if she had stayed under Marcus. Still, there were days she wondered… Her current master was cruel…
She never allowed any female Nephloc to be selected for the crucible. She hated competition and lived for the power she had over males. Exercising this power, the Perazim before her writhed in agony as his face contorted. Her laughter was met by violent growls and spittle.
She was far more powerful than even the strongest Perazim. She knew that; but she also knew that even a fool could get lucky.
The Perazim was struggling to breathe. There were rules to follow while existing in the physical realms, and even a body with little organic matter had to follow the natural way. Even her masters had to obey; even the Dark One who had created the Perazim order and who sustained life within the Nephloc and Perazim ranks had to obey.
She jerked her thumb and the Perazim’s head snapped. If it had been a mere Nephloc or human, he would have died instantly. The unnatural position of his head instilled in her a desire to peek inside the cut her blade had made. The Perazim before her had obeyed and he had even pleased her. But the general had chosen him to be a messenger to her; she would turn this messenger into a message for the general...an unfortunate necessity.
The Perazim’s hands flew to the sides of his head. Even as he was struggling to breathe, he had the presence of mind to reposition his head. The pain would be intense—again the result of the limitations of being in the physical world. A broken neck could be mended. But not a severed head...A separation of the brain and the space that had once housed the heart terminated the connection between a Perazim and its master. He had to correct his head before she could complete the decapitation.
The pain she was witnessing gave her deep pleasure. Yes, this pet from the general was pleasing to her. She would send the general a note pinned to this Perazim’s headless body.
Her hand again tightened and lifted higher; her other hand pulled lower. The gagging sounds were more desperate and yet weaker. His head was being pulled in one direction and the rest of his body, in the other. The tension was becoming unbearable.
Now, it was her time to laugh. The Perazim’s face showed abject horror.
With each popping sound, she laughed louder.
A single beep echoed in the small chamber, causing her attention to break. She dropped her victim, alive but broken.
“Leave! Tell General Carritos that I will come for him soon.”
The Perazim tried to pick himself up. He had some use left in his legs, but his sense of direction was gone. He lurched toward the doorway or what he thought was the doorway. The unnatural position of his neck caused him to go headfirst into the wall. Disoriented and flush with pain, he rebounded from the wall directly to the floor.
“Go!”
She was becoming impatient. Her rash show of mercy was quickly regretted
. With the flick of her clenched fist, the Perazim was lifted from the ground and went flying out the door, its legs taking a chunk of rock with them. She only released her fist when he was beyond the doorway and the wooden door was closed as best as it could.
Once alone, she knelt and, pulling an object from a pocket, she placed it on the floor in front of her and quickly stepped away. The black box was no more than a few inches wide and deep. It was no taller than her thumb. It had the curious consistency of some thick, black viscous substance and yet it retained its shape as if a solid. By touch, it felt like smooth marble, but as one touched the object, an oil-like liquid went swirling around, creating beautifully circular patterns.
“My lord,” she said to the box. She had one knee and one fist touching the ground. Her head was bowed. Her eyes were lifted enough to examine the patterns that would soon appear.
The box began to sizzle. Above it rose a musky gray cloud that swirled from the black liquid until it reached the height of a few feet. The motion slowed until it was a constant and gentle stream, flowing up and then to the right in a smooth clockwise fashion.
“You caused me to wait,” came a disembodied voice from the shadows.
“Apologies, my lord. I had a guest to attend to.”
“I hope you were not too rough with him.”
She despised her master. He had promised her freedom—something a woman of her original culture and station couldn’t have hoped for. Now, she was truly a slave. He was cruel and a show of mercy, while not without precedent, was unpredictable. And yet, his was a power that none could deny. A power even the Temporal were not aware of. An ancient power that would destroy her enemies. For that, she worshipped him and participated in his twisted games.
“Have you punished General Carritos yet?” His voice was calm, almost as if the subject matter was of some minute and mundane detail of business.
“My lord?” She knew Carritos was her master’s favorite of the turned Temporals.
“He has failed. He had ample opportunity to destroy the Temporal based on the information I provided and yet, he failed. You thought I would not know? Tsk. Tsk. How disappointing.”
“He will be dealt with.” Her mind thought of the torturous things that awaited her. She had tried to hide failure from him, something she would not tolerate from her own subordinate.
“You may punish him, but do not overly harm him.”
Carritos had been discovered and turned by her master. Like her, Carrritos had been a Temporal.
She did not know her master’s true identity. If she did, she could send all Perazim—her Perazim—to destroy him. He was powerful, but not invincible. He always appeared at unpredictable times and in various forms. Like Kaileen, her master had morphic abilities. It had been him who had taught her the dark arts many centuries before. It had been him who had taken her away from her husband with the lures of libertine freedom.
“Do not fear. I know and I am not displeased with you, my pet. I have information. But I want you to personally lead the charge—not that fool Carritos.”
“Of course,” she said keeping her head low. “I will not fail you.”
“Of course,” he said, parroting. “Reach your hand into the column of smoke. I will instruct you regarding the enemy locations.”
“Master,” Kaileen said, not wishing to receive the information through a mindbend. It was a direct connection of pure information and her mind, but the path that the information took ripped through her physical body. It was pain incarnate. “Could you not…”
“My dear pet, you will initiate the mindbend. I will not repeat this as if it were some petty request. You will internalize this information, find the Temporal, and destroy them.”
Keeping her left fist on the ground, she lifted her right hand, fingers extended toward the cloud. She stopped an inch away from the smoke. It was never a pleasant experience—she was not Perazim who would feel no pain during the procedure; under a morphic layering, her flesh was real. Pain notwithstanding, this was the quickest way to absorb knowledge and accept training. It was the only way to both ensure an accurate transmission and be absolutely sure no one else would learn the information that had been coded with her unique signature.
Thrusting her hand in, she was inundated with wave after wave of energy pulses, tearing and pulling at her. It was pure information ripping through her body—bone and flesh—until it was at last absorbed by her mind.
An instant later, the smoke was gone and the box, silent. Only her trembling hand remained of the experience. Despite the pain, she smiled. She knew the locations. It was time to hunt.
Chapter Eleven
After entering the waiting room, Dr. Bracker spoke with each of the Temporal briefly before retiring to a lonely corner with the phone to his ear. He was far enough to be out of Sam’s earshot. And this only made Sam curious.
Seeing an unusually harsh look on Dr. Bracker’s face while on the phone, Sam grew more curious. He trained his ears and his gift toward Bracker’s conversation. But the more he tried, the less he got. As before, Sam could sense nothing from Dr. Bracker. No thoughts. No feelings—no trace of the man’s signature. Nothing.
Dr. Bracker slipped his phone into his pocket. He looked across the room and met Sam’s staring eyes. While concentrating on the echoes, Sam became oblivious to common social mores. He had been absentmindedly staring at the president’s advisor while attempting to spy on his thoughts.
Making his way toward the now squirming Sam, Dr. Bracker said, “You are wondering with whom I just spoke and about what subject.”
Sam suddenly felt a flush of red embarrassment. Practicing his gifts very often took his mind from his surroundings, but he had never been caught in such an awkward moment.
“I first spoke with one of the president’s aides—an old friend. The president was on the phone with some foreign dignitary and so we chatted a while. I then gave the president a full update as he requested.”
“Of course. Sorry for being rude.”
“Not at all. This is a very sensitive matter.” Dr. Bracker leaned in slightly and lowered his voice. “Sam, I understand your caution, but the only people who know of your group and of this mission are in these two rooms. General Gordon and the president also, of course. These are all trustworthy people—even if I may have disagreements with the good general.”
Sam smiled a reply and turned to sit nervously next to Suteko while Dr. Bracker returned to a seat across the room.
“So, what was his call about?”
“He talked to the president, so he says.”
“You don’t believe him,” Suteko said in a voice just over a whisper.
“No. I mean, yes, I believe him. I have no reason to not believe him.”
Sam felt ashamed for having any doubts. Not only did the president trust Bracker, but Marcus had also spoken with him and allowed Bracker to stay. He knew Marcus would not allow any threats to their safety.
“But something is bothering you?” She saw that Sam’s muscles were tense; he was holding on to the edge of his seat with a grip nearly tight enough to tear the fabric. “Tell me,” she said while her fingers made contact with and then slid over the back of his hand. Her touch alleviated some of the tension, but not all.
“Suteko, I can’t read him.”
“Dr. Bracker? What do you mean? You can’t read just anybody’s thoughts…”
“Yes, that’s true, but I can always get a sense of any person’s overall state of mind. In most cases, I can even know their specific intentions. I’m not talking about hearing thoughts or even vague feelings; with Dr. Bracker, I get nothing.”
Suteko’s puzzled face amplified the concern in her voice. “And this bothers you?”
“I don’t know. It could be meaningless. It isn’t like I have met all the people in the world. Maybe short, yet distinguished looking gentlemen intimidate me and my super powers?”
Sam looked up at Dr. Bracker on the other side of the large room. T
he man had his eyes closed and his right hand was resting on his crossed legs. He drew his lips in tight, like a clamped vise. He was rubbing his fingers together as if impatiently waiting for something to happen.
Suteko squeezed Sam’s hand. “Is it,” Suteko said thinking back to the Nephloc attack. “Is it similar to how the Nephloc were masking their true intentions when they came for me?”
“No,” Sam answered without pause. With the Nephloc, he could see them and know their feelings. He had known their minds were being shielded. With Dr. Bracker, there was nothing. His mind wasn’t being masked; it was like his thoughts—his being—didn’t exist. Sam shook his head partially in answer to her question and partially to wordlessly express his bewilderment. “It is like how it was for me before the earthquake, when I was just a normal everyday sort of guy. I get nothing from him. With those Nephloc that night, it was jumbled and noisy, but it was there.” Sam kept his eyes on Dr. Bracker who was still cross-legged but now the nervous fingers were thumbing his cell phone.
General Gordon returned, interrupting their conversation. Marcus entered the waiting room with him. Sam saw Gordon’s upper lip contort at the sight of Bracker who had opened his eyes but kept the vise-like lips closed. The general quickly shook that expression off and, turning to the Temporal, he said, “Everything is set in motion, you are all welcome to stay here, but I believe you will be more comfortable at the lodgings we have prepared for you. A car is waiting upstairs for anyone who would like to go.”
Sam felt tired. It was well past midnight, but that was irrelevant. The time of the day rarely affected him anymore. But he was drained, exhausted like he used to feel after a long day of physical work. He had another reason for leaving. He was concerned about Catherine. Why had she lashed out like she did? What was her problem with Suteko? More importantly, what was her history with Suteko and Ian? Something was wrong and being near her, he might be able to help while also answering some burning questions related to Suteko’s past. He stood and walked out, accepting the general’s offer.
“Lieutenant, would you mind?” Gordon said to the young man standing beside him while keeping an eye on Bracker. “I’ve already made the trip once and I really ought to be here protecting sensitive information.”