“Your captor?” Grandy See-er suggested, her faded blue eyes sparkling. “The male who stole you away from your home world and left you stuck in a shuttle while he went to do male-talk?”
When she put it that way, Emily couldn’t help but agree.
“Well, yes,” she said. “But he’s helping me now. I mean, he brought me here to see someone who could help me with my…my condition.”
“What condition, little Mistress? Ah, wait—don’t tell me…” Those silvery eyebrows arched once more and her nostrils flared. Emily reflected that she hadn’t noticed what a long, hooked nose the old lady had back when she was seeing her through the shuttle window. “You be in heat!” she exclaimed triumphantly, poking a long, crooked finger at Emily. “Isn’t that so?”
“Well…kind of, I guess.” Emily was beginning to feel uncomfortable. This really wasn’t something she wanted to be discussing with a stranger, no matter how kind and sweet she seemed.
“Not just any heat either—you be a Khalla—one of the rare females that embodies the Goddess herself!” She sniffed again. “And you be in Scintil—soon to enter Vlammen if you don’t do something to stop it—and that right quick!”
Emily stared at her. “How do you know all that? How do you know all the, uh, terminology? I thought this was a strictly Beast Kindred thing and we’re not anywhere near Rageron.”
“Ah, but your male’s friend be not the only expert that the Khalla come to see to help them in their Tenrah.” The old lady nodded sagely.
“But I thought only one or two were born in a generation.”
“Is that what your male told you?” The old lady frowned. “Then he must not know much about the Wulven. Many Beast Kindred come to bond Wulven females and so more Khalla are born here.” She pointed at herself. “That’s why Grandy See-er knows more than most anyone about stopping the flow of the nectar and reversing the Shift.”
“Excuse me, what?” Emily felt a surge of hopeful excitement. “What did you say? Did you say you could reverse it?”
“Well, certainly I can, little Mistress! With the proper tools and treatments, of course—I don’t have them with me, though.” Grandy See-er pointed into the forest. “They’re in my humble little hovel, a few steps from here—just beyond those trees. Would you like to come and see?”
“Oh, uh…” Emily bit her lip uncertainly. “I really shouldn’t…I mean, Tragar told me to stay in the shuttle…”
“You’ll be safe enough with me.” The old woman patted her arm comfortingly. “Nobody bothers Grandy See-er. I’m like a second great-mother to the whole town.”
The moment she said it, Emily could see how it must be true. Probably all the little children adored the sweet, kind old lady and all the mothers in town called on her for advice. She was probably like some kind of alien Mrs. Piggle Wiggle. Still, something made her hang back.
“I just…I’m not sure.”
“Well, suite yourself, little Mistress.” The old lady shrugged her boney shoulders, her long white dress rustling. “But I can’t help those as don’t want to be helped.”
“But I do want to be helped!” Emily protested. “I want to stop this…this whole process. And I want to go back to normal and live my life and not feel like my whole body is turning against me!”
“Well, of course you do.” Grandy See-er took Emily’s arm and stroked it comfortingly. “Tis a strange and scary change you’re going through, little Mistress and old Grandy would like to help you if you’ll be let her.”
The touch of the soft, wrinkled hand somehow decided her. Surely nothing bad could happen to her while she was with such a sweet old lady!
“All right,” she said, smiling. “I guess it can’t hurt, as long as you promise we’ll be back soon.”
“Of course, little Mistress.” Grandy See-er patted her arm again and her faded blue eyes seemed to sparkle strangely. “Of course. Now come along—we have much to do.”
* * * * *
“Tragar! So good to see you again!” Xen’dex ushered him into the small domicile with a smile. “No, don’t shut the door. We leave them open here—it is the Wulven way.”
“Xen’dex, my old master!” Tragar clasped arms with him in a warrior’s greeting, glad to feel that his old teacher’s grip was still as strong as ever. “You’ve scarcely aged a day,” he remarked, looking at his master.
Indeed, except for his long hair being iron gray now, Xen’dex was much the same as Tragar remembered when he’d learned from him as a young male.
“The years have been kind.” Xen’dex nodded.
“To some of us,” Tragar muttered. He broke the warrior’s clasp and stepped back a little to look around. The domicile was long and low and the same moss that carpeted the forest floor served as a floor covering inside. On a small table stood a holo of Xen’dex with his arm around a pretty, petite female with brilliant blue eyes. “Is that your mate?”
“Yes, that’s my Saskia.” His master’s chest swelled with pride and his eyes shone with love. “She’s off visiting her kin this day so I’m afraid you won’t get to meet her.”
Tragar wondered if his master’s mate being out of the house was pure coincidence…or something planned. He supposed he wouldn’t blame Xen’dex if it was the latter. He wouldn’t want any female he loved being around an assassin of the Verrak either.
“She’s lovely,” he said shortly. “Couldn’t find a female on Rageron you could bond with?”
“They’re scarce and getting scarcer. How many years since you were home?”
“I have no home now,” Tragar said grimly. “But I haven’t been back to Rageron since Landra and Jalex…” He shook his head. “I haven’t been back in a while.”
“I understand,” Xen’dex said quietly. “It must be difficult for you to go back now.”
“Difficult but necessary.” Tragar sighed. “I must get Emily to the Holy Mountains before she enters the fourth stage of her Shift. In fact, I’d like to get her there before she enters the third stage—or even gets to the last part of the second.”
“That may not be possible. Tell me about her—where did you find her? How did she come to be so far from Rageron?” Xen’dex asked, leading him further into the domicile.
“She was a target—is a target,” Tragar admitted heavily. “I don’t expect you to understand or approve,” he added quickly, seeing the flash in his old master’s golden eyes. “I took her contract because the male who contacted me claimed she was dangerous and deserving of death.”
Xen’dex arched an eyebrow at him as he led Tragar into a small, comfortably furnished room with low, legless chairs. He lowered himself with a warrior’s grace and sat back against one, letting his legs rest on the purple moss. He motioned at Tragar to take another.
“So is she? Dangerous?”
“Of course not! Emily’s sweet and kind—she teaches younglings for a living. She loves them and cares for them deeply. She’s always gentle when they’re hurt or upset and she—” Tragar stopped abruptly, realizing that his old master was staring at him with a small smile playing about his lips. “She’s not dangerous and she doesn’t deserve to die,” he finished. “Obviously, the male who convinced me to take her contract lied.”
“And what do you plan to do about that?” Xen’dex murmured. “My understanding was that if you don’t kill her, you must kill yourself. Or one of your order will come after you and do it for you.”
The narsh on Tragar’s arm burned but he ignored it.
“I’m on my guard against any such eventuality but right now I’m more concerned with getting her safely to Rageron,” he said. “I don’t know how long she was in the first stage, Kalor, but she passed into Scintil very quickly and I’m afraid she’ll speed through the rest of the stages before I can get her to the Holy Mountains where the elders can…” The words seemed to stick in his throat but he forced them out anyway. “Can help her find a mate to bond with.”
“And this is what you truly want? For h
er to find another male to bond with and mate?” Xen’dex raised his eyebrows again and gave Tragar that piercing stare he remembered from his youth. That stare that seemed to see right through him.
“Of course it’s what I want,” he protested. “Emily is beautiful and kind and gentle. She deserves a male who is worthy of her.”
“Only the Goddess can say if a male is worthy…or unworthy,” Xen’dex said softly.
“Maybe she can say that for a male who hasn’t renounced her,” Tragar growled.
“Just because you have renounced the Goddess doesn’t mean she has renounced you, Tragar.”
Tragar wondered what his old master would think of him if he knew how very unworthy he really was…if he knew how he had whipped the Khalla he was supposed to be protecting with his belt in order to drive back her Kit’tara… He would probably be horrified and justifiably so.
He shrugged irritably.
“That’s no concern of mine. I’m only taking Emily to Rageron because I am biologically unable to do other than help and protect her. That and the fact that I’ve never been able to get your damn teachings out of my head.”
“Protect a Khalla at all costs, for she is more precious than any jewel in the universe,” Xen’dex said, nodding. “Speaking of which, where is she?”
“I thought I’d come and get the equipment you said you had first.”
“Oh yes. Just a moment.” Xen’dex got up from the low chair and left the room for a moment. When he returned, he had a small wooden box filled with various articles. “Now, here are the clamps I told you about,” he said, holding up two small clear clamps with soft, white fur lining their insides. “That’s tala fur—it’s charge-neutral so they won’t hurt the Khalla’s sensitive peaks. Of course, you can only hold back the nectar for so long. Eventually her breasts will become too full and she will have to be eased.”
Tragar cleared his throat and shifted in his low chair. He couldn’t help flashing on a mental image of himself kneeling before Emily and massaging her full breasts to help the nectar flow. Still, he knew he shouldn’t want to do such a thing—he didn’t deserve to.
“Hopefully we’ll be on Rageron in the Holy Mountains by then,” he said in a low voice.
Xen’dex gave him a sharp look. “Yes. Hopefully.” He got something else out of the box. “This is tanda-berry ointment. It can be used to ease her extreme sensitivity both above and below. Although you are aware if she passes through Scintil and into Vlammen before you can get her to Rageron, only the Healing Kiss can truly ease her pain.”
Tragar cleared his throat again. “Of course.”
He refused to let himself even picture that, though. Giving Emily the Healing Kiss…kneeling between her legs while she spread her thighs wide for him…inviting him in… No! He had to stop—it wasn’t right to think of such things.
Xen’dex pulled something else out of the box. “And this—”
“Forgive me, Master Xen’dex, but what I really need right now is the scent dampening cape you said you had the second time I called you,” Tragar interrupted. “I left Emily out in the shuttle for safety but she won’t be content to stay for long. Her scent is dangerous right now—as sweet as honey and hot as fire. She…” He frowned, lifting his head and drawing in a deep breath. “She is…” He inhaled again and looked back towards the open door of the domicile. “Gods, I can smell it—I can smell her scent!”
Xen’dex lifted his nose as well and breathed deeply. He nodded.
“That’s it, all right—the scent of a Khalla in heat. Didn’t I tell you it was unmistakable?”
“It is but what I’m most worried about now is that we can’t be the only two males smelling it!” Tragar growled, jumping to his feet. “And I know how sharp Wulven Kindred senses are—she’ll draw every male in town to her!”
“Most of them are at the Howlund right now,” Xen’dex said, getting up as well. “But you’re right—it’s better not to spread the scent around too much. Especially now when Trilee, the second moon is in phase. Most of the Wulven are close to their change right now.”
“Come on.” Tragar was already hurrying out of the domicile, retracing his path through the forest with his nose high in the air. The closer he got to the hidden place he’d parked the shuttle, the stronger Emily’s scent became. Xen’dex was right behind him but when they got to the shuttle, he stopped.
“Where is she?”
“She should be in the shuttle.” Tragar was already pushing the purple and silver leaves aside, trying to get to the door. When he pulled it open, a fresh gust of scent rushed over him, making his jaw clench and his shaft grow painfully hard. But the owner of that sweet, maddening scent was nowhere to be seen.
Emily was gone.
Chapter Fifteen
“This is a…um, a nice place.” Emily hovered in the doorway, looking around the tiny, crude hovel uncertainly.
“It’s no flower-palace but it’s good enough for old Grandy See-er.”
The old woman bustled around, bending her head so as to keep from knocking it against the low ceiling which was hung with many different bunches of drying herbs. The air was thick with the sweet, spicy scent of them as well as something that was faintly bitter and resinous like pine. The smell reminded Emily of a Christmas shop—like the one she and her sister visited in Saint Pete that was open all year round.
The thought brought tears to her eyes. What would her sister and parents be thinking? She’d been missing for long enough that someone would have noticed by now—probably even filed a missing person’s report. Her family must be worried out of their minds—she hadn’t even had a chance to say goodbye or explain where she was going or why…
“Come now, come in and Grandy will find what she needs.”
The sweet voice broke her train of thought and Emily looked up, blinking tears out of her eyes.
“Come now, come now,” the old woman urged her to come all the way in and shut the door behind her. “Mustn’t let the scents out—all Grandy’s fine herbs would be ruined.”
She led the way and Emily tried to follow. But after being out in the bright blue sunshine, she could barely see in the dark little house. She stumbled over something soft which hissed at her angrily.
“Oh!” she gasped as she jumped away from whatever it was. She would have fallen if Grandy See-er hadn’t caught her under her arm and held her up. She was remarkably strong for such an old woman.
“Now, don’t mind my little Tatem,” she said, nodding down at the floor where the thing Emily had tripped on was still hissing. “She’s not used to strangers, so she isn’t.”
“What…what is that? Your pet?” Emily tried to get a better look at it but her eyes were still adjusting. As far as she could tell, the animal in question looked like four or five brightly colored balls strung together with multiple legs sticking out on all sides. It had a sharp, pointed face and large round eyes that glowed in the dim cabin. All together, it looked to Emily like someone had crossed a caterpillar and a cat and the animal, whatever it was, was still hissing resentfully at her.
“She’s a good girl, is my Tatem,” Grandy See-er said comfortably. “She’ll warm to you in a moment. Just give her time, so you must.”
“I…um, okay I guess.” Emily eyed the caterpillar-cat doubtfully. “If you say so.”
“So I do. So says Grandy See-er. Now sit right down here while I find what you’re needing, little Mistress.”
Grandy pushed her down, again with surprising strength, into a low, legless chair in the corner of a crowded room. There were more legless chairs as well as other pieces of furniture Emily couldn’t identify. In the middle of the room was a vast, low table strewn with all kinds of papers and equipment. It looked like a jumbled heap of junk to Emily but the old lady got on her knees in front of it and began sifting through the clutter as though she knew exactly what she was looking for.
“Now then, now then…where are those nubbin pinchers?” she muttered under her breath. �
��And the chafing shaft—we’ll need that as well.”
Nubbin pinchers? Chafing shaft? None of that sounded very appealing to Emily but she had other things to worry about. The caterpillar-cat Grandy had called Tatem had apparently decided it liked Emily after all. It jumped up in her lap and began making a low, throaty humming sound while it kneaded her knees with about a dozen sharp little paws.
“Oh…hi.” Emily looked at it, not sure what to do. Finally she tried patting its long, segmented body of puff balls which seemed to have a good effect. The creature’s humming increased and it arched its back in obvious pleasure so Emily stroked it again. “Maybe you’re not so bad after all,” she murmured as it continued to hum and knead her legs. “You’re just a sweet little catapiddy-kitty, aren’t you?”
“Tatem’s a little lovey, aren’t you Tatem?” Grandy See-er cooed, coming over. “All right now, little Mistress—here’s what you need.” She was holding several things in her hands and by this time Emily’s eyes had adjusted to the gloom well enough to see them. They still didn’t make sense, however.
“What are those?” she asked blankly, nodding at the two small silver things in the old lady’s right hand. They looked a little like old fashioned thimbles—the kind her grandma used to wear on her thumb while quilting to keep from pricking herself. Hanging from the end of each “thimble” were many fine golden chains that looked a little like metallic tassels.
“Why these are star-silver nubbin pinchers, little Mistress.” Grandy smiled at her, showing teeth that were surprisingly white. “They’ll stop the flow of nectar right quick, so they will. Look.” She split one of the silver thimble things at its side and spread it open, holding it up for Emily to see. Inside, it was studded with tiny bumps. “Here,” the old lady urged. “Try and see.”
Before Emily could stop her, she flipped up the blue scarf that covered Emily’s breasts and slipped the silver thimble over her right nipple. With a swift, decisive click, she snapped it closed.
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