Targeted

by Evangeline Anderson

  “But why not?” Y was bewildered. “Why bother to track the Verrak here and get the girl alone if not to kill her? I thought you wanted her dead, Master.”

  “And so I do—but I also wish to punish that meddling assassin whom I hired to kill her in the first place.” The master’s voice sounded shrill and petulant. “How dare he refuse to kill her after he promised he would? I paid a lot for that contract I put on her!”

  “Then I will kill him too,” Y said. “If it pleases you.”

  “What would please me is if you’d stop being so stupid and appreciate the subtleties of the situation!”

  For the first time, Y felt the sting of irritation at the Master who was always with him. But it was wrong to feel that way—he knew it and subdued the feeling quickly.

  “I am only newly made, Master,” he said, humbly. “I do not know the ways of the universe as you do.”

  “Very well, that’s true. It took me a little while to train X as well.” The master sighed. “Here is what you must know about the Verrak—if they do not kill their target, they must kill themselves. If they refuse to do that, another member of their order will be dispatched to kill the rogue assassin. Either way, a death is necessary to fulfill the contract.”

  “So you want to wait and let another member of the Verrak kill the girl? Or kill the assassin who was sent to kill her in the first place?”

  “No, it won’t come to that. We will dispose of her long before the Verrak dispatch another assassin. But we’re going to have some fun first.”

  “What fun?” Y still did not understand.

  “I believe our faithless assassin is beginning to have feelings for the little Earth female,” the Master hissed softly. “Feelings that are just starting to develop. We must nourish those feelings…feed them so that when he loses her, his pain will be all the worse.”

  “You prefer to see him in pain rather than to see him dead?” Y asked.

  “Indeed. You are very young, Y, but you will learn that some forms of pain are worse than death. In fact, I believe our Verrak assassin has already experienced something of the sort so his heart is guarded now.” The Master gave a hissing laugh. “We must break down the barrier he has built and allow him to care for the girl before she is snatched from him.”

  That seemed like needless torture but Y knew better than to object.

  “I thought you simply wanted them both dead,” he said neutrally.

  “And they will die—but they must suffer first” the Master insisted. “And I will be watching it all and savoring their agony before the end.”

  “If you’re done muttering to yourself, tell me what you want to do with the Earth girl,” the witch said, interrupting his conversation with the Master. “She cannot stay in Grandy’s hut, no she can’t! Twill be trouble from the Wulven elders if she’s found bespelled here on my property!”

  “Make certain the girl is under our control—that she will do as she has been told to do,” the Master directed. Y repeated his question and the old female nodded quickly.

  “Yes, yes—she drank some of Grandy’s special medicine, so she did,” she said, nodding at the cup of green, noxious smelling ooze the Earth female still held in her hand. “And I have a lock of her hair, so I do! She twill do what she’s been told—well, mostly anyway.”

  “What do you mean, mostly?” Y asked sternly.

  The old female frowned. “Well, she’s a Khalla, so she tis. You can put suggestions into a Khalla’s mind but they don’t always stick. Still, I did my best and so I did. And I have the lock of hair to help when it comes to it.”

  “As good as we’re going to get, I suppose,” Master Two sighed in Y’s head. “Very well. Tell her to take the girl someplace else. Someplace…dangerous. Let that fool of an assassin find know exactly how much he cares for her when he realizes what peril she’s in.”

  “She must go someplace dangerous,” Y said aloud to the witch. “Where is the most dangerous place on this planet?”

  The witch raised her grizzled eyebrows.

  “For an unmated female in heat? The Howland that would be. Full of Wulven males closer to their change, so it tis. Of course the chafing shaft will mask her scent some but they’ll find her right enough if she’s put in the middle of them.”

  “Perfect!” The Master’s voice was positively gleeful. “Send her there! The Verrak’s pain will be unimaginable when he finds her after the other males have their way with his precious Khalla!”

  Y felt a twinge of disgust and some other emotion he could not name when he thought of what the little female would endure.

  “Master,” he sub-vocalized. “I still do not understand this—I thought you wanted her dead. Aren’t you taking a chance—even a slim one—that the Verrak will get to her in time and she won’t die?”

  “I am counting on him getting to her, you fool!” the Master snapped. “If he’s too late to save her from being ravaged, so much the better. But even if he finds her before that happens, he will know how much he truly cares for her…and his emotions towards her will grow exponentially.”

  “But her death—”

  “Will come all in good time. The devices this old crone fitted her with will cause no end of pain and trouble and despair. And even if those fail, there is still the suggestion I had her plant in the female’s mind. She will die, either sooner or later and the Verrak will die with her…or another member of his order will finish him off after she is gone. But first he will know how much he cares for her and that he has lost her irrevocably. Which will be extremely entertaining.” He gave a mental yawn. “Which is a good thing. Riding around in your head unable to do anything is most dreadfully boring! I must see to that eventually…”

  “Are you ever going to stop muttering to yourself long enough to tell me what to do with the girl?” the witch demanded, frowning at Y. “Even now her male will be looking for her—yes he twill!”

  Y felt another twinge as he looked at the Earth girl, still frozen in place. But the Master was to be obeyed, always and forever.

  “Fine,” he said stolidly. “Take her to the Howlund.”

  “Take her?” The witch looked at him as if he was mad. “I’ll not do that, no I won’t! Grandy See-er can’t expose herself that way—I’ll have to put a scent-blocker spell around my hut, so I will, to keep folks from suspecting me as it tis!”

  “She must get there somehow,” Y growled. “It is imperative!”

  “Well, I can’t take her…but I can send her.” The witch got a crafty gleam in her faded blue eyes. “She’s bespelled now—she’ll do what she’s told, so she twill!”

  “Very well—do it,” Y commanded. “Send her then—and be quick.” He knew his Master wished to savor the Earth female’s pain but he just wanted to get this over with.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Emily blinked and found herself walking down the middle of a crowded street. No, not a street exactly—almost more of a marketplace. But not a nice, neat farmer’s market like they had at the park in South Tampa on Saturdays—more like some kind of a Middle Eastern bazaar.

  The hard packed dirt road was crowded with stalls on either side and the vendors behind them were shouting their wares.

  “Palla fruit—get your palla fruit! Ease the change when it comes—the palla gives you ease!”

  “Collars to hold, ties to bind. Keep those you love safe—don’t change unrestrained!”

  “Scent blankets—get your scent blankets here! A scent that soothes—calm the beast within.”

  Emily couldn’t help noticing that all the vendors were male…and then she noticed that all the customers were male too. They were all huge men—as big as Tragar at least—and they all seemed to have bright blue eyes—eyes that glowed when they looked at her.

  And more and more of them were looking. Why were they staring at her? For that matter, how had she gotten here in the first place? The last thing she remembered was sitting in the shuttle, feeling bored and wondering how much lon
ger Tragar was going to take. And now…this.

  “Where am I? What am I doing here?” Emily muttered to herself. Looking down, she saw she was walking down the dusty road barefoot and she had on only her old blue nightgown which someone had cut holes in.

  Wait—that was me. I cut holes in it, didn’t I? But why had she done that?

  A closer look answered the question. Her nipples were poking out of the two ragged holes in the silky blue material but they were covered in little silver caps with golden metallic tassels hanging off them. The blue sunlight flashed off them, making it look like her breasts were tipped with fire.

  Emily frowned. Well, this didn’t seem right. What was she doing, walking down the middle of a busy street filled with strange men wearing nothing but a thin nighty with her nipples poking out? Why was she…?

  Abruptly, the daze she’d been in lifted and she gasped in horror. Oh God, she was walking half naked down a street filled with strange men! Huge, strange men…huge, strange men who were looking at her with lust in their eyes!

  It was like every nightmare she’d ever had in her life—every dream of walking through the middle of high school naked—only this time it was real. And from the way the men were beginning to look at her and sniff the air, she was about to be in real trouble if she didn’t get out of there, fast.

  The only problem was, she had no idea how she’d gotten there in the first place. And no idea how to get away.

  * * * * *

  “Where is she? The scent ends here!” Tragar walked in a circle, sniffing the air with increasing desperation. They were deep in the forest and Emily’s scent , so strong just a moment ago, was suddenly gone. “Where is she?” he repeated. “How can she have just disappeared?”

  “Just because her scent disappeared doesn’t mean she did.” Xen’dex sounded grim. “I can still smell the witch—she must have covered your Khalla’s scent but she didn’t bother to hide her own. Come on—this way.”

  He led the way deeper into the woods and Tragar followed. He was looking alertly as he went, his weapons ready, but inside his gut was churning and his heart was pounding.

  Lost her…I lost her, chanted a little voice in his head. She’s in danger…possibly in pain or even dead all because of me—because I didn’t protect her. Because I didn’t keep her safe. Just the way I didn’t keep Jalex and Landra safe.

  He tried to push the thoughts to the back of his mind but they wouldn’t go. Guilt and self-loathing filled him like a rush of dirty water, making his jaw tight and his fists clench. Gods, what had he done? How could he have left her alone in the shuttle, especially after the fight they’d had? He should never have let her out of his sight, even for a moment! She was precious…delicate…and in the middle of a change that frightened and upset her. He should never have left her, even for an instant! He should never—

  “Here.” Xen’dex was pointing to a dirty little domicile that appeared to be made of mud and sticks. “The witch’s scent leads here.” He started to knock at the wooden door but Tragar was already ramming it open with his shoulder.

  Inside it was dark and dank, the air filled with the bitter, dusty scent of dried poison-plants and mold. An old Wulven female with stringy gray hair and a hooked nose was hunched over a cluttered table, counting golden credit coins. She jerked when the door crashed open, her faded blue eyes wide and startled.

  “Where is she?” Tragar demanded, striding forward. “What have you done with Emily?”

  “What? Grandy See-er doesn’t know what you mean, my Lord!” the old female protested, scrambling to get the golden coins back into a bag with her long, dirty claws.

  “Tell me!” Thrace growled, glaring at her. He lifted his head to sniff and nearly retched at the foul odors. Under the dried poison plants and mold was the sharp reek of urine and the smell of an unwashed animal. A sound down by his boots led him to the source of that particular odor—a segmented beast with glowing eyes which was plainly some kind of a pet was hissing at him.

  But under all the stench of the cabin—and the rank smell of the unwashed witch which was also none too pleasant—Thrace thought he could catch just a whiff of Emily’s sweetness. She had to be here somewhere—she had to!

  “My Lord, please,” the old female wheedled. “I have no one here—no one but my sweet Tatum.” She picked up the hissing animal and stroked its round body segments. “Hush now, Tatum, everything’s well, so it ‘tis.”

  “No, it’s not.” Xen’dex stepped up, scowling at her. “Grandy See-er—I might have known you’d be behind this. Anything for a credit, eh? Tell me—what did you do to earn that bag of credit coins you were counting when we came in?”

  The faded blue eyes took on a frightened, crafty expression and her cracked voice became suddenly soft and soothing.

  “Why, my Lord Xen’dex, how nice to see you. Tis a lovely day for a visit, so it tis. And you don’t want to bother me, do you? You just came to say hello—sure and you did.”

  “Your voice tricks won’t work on me, witch,” Xen’dex growled. “Tell us what you’ve done with the young female you found out in the shuttle.”

  “A young female?” The faded eyes brightened. “Why now that you mention it, I did meet some such, so I did, as I was on my way back from market. I sold much of my best medicine and made a tidy sum—that’s where the coins came from.”

  Tragar paid her no more attention—he was already searching her domicile. Besides the cluttered main room, there was a sleeping area which consisted of a grubby pallet on the floor, strewn untidily with dirty blankets, and a cooking area with a blackened heat-flat in one corner.

  On the grease smeared flat was a pot filled with some dark green sludge that made him gag when he sniffed it. There was a bark cup half full of the stuff beside it. He picked it up and looked at it. Then for some reason, he sniffed it again. Under the foul odor was something else—something familiar. It was another faint whiff of Emily’s scent.

  She held this cup—possibly drank from it! But what in the Seven Hells is this stuff that she drank?

  Tragar carried it into the main area where Xen’dex was still questioning the witch.

  “What is this?” he demanded, thrusting the cup in front of her. “I can tell Emily held it—what did you give her? What did it do to her? Where is she?”

  For the first time, the old female began to look really scared.

  “That’s just my medicine, so it tis!” she protested, backing away.

  Xen’dex took the cup, sniffed it, and made a face.

  “A medicine made with dark-weed and lyer juice? I don’t think so. What have you done with her? What have you done with the Khalla?”

  “Only helped her, like she asked!” the old woman who called herself Grandy See-er protested shrilly. “She didn’t want her nectar to flow, nor her honey neither. So Grandy See-er stopped them, so I did! Gave her my best star-silver nubbin pinchers! Twere most expensive but I gave them for free, from the goodness of my heart!”

  “Star-silver!” Xen’dex looked so grim that Tragar demanded,

  “What? What is it?”

  The other male looked troubled.

  “So many Beast Kindred have settled here and bred with the Wulven in the past thirty cycles that several Khalla have been born. It was one reason I came here—to offer my expertise. Because the Wulven didn’t understand what was happening and some tried to stop the process—to halt the Tenrah in its tracks.”

  “Well, you can slow it down some, right?” Tragar asked. “That is what you taught us.”

  “Yes, but stopping it completely is incredibly dangerous. This metal—this star-silver she’s talking about—will do that. It’s a natural hormonal retardant. But if it isn’t removed in time…”

  Tragar felt sick. “What? What happens?” he made himself ask.

  His old master sighed deeply.

  “If it isn’t removed in time, the Khalla may die.”

  “She won’t die of the star-silver, so she won’t,
” Grandy See-er said. Her face broke into a crafty smile. “Though she might have a hard time surviving where she went.”

  “What? What are you talking about?” Tragar demanded.

  “Why—I’m only talking about the direction she was headed when she and I parted ways,” the old female protested. “Twas none of my doing—I tried to warn her. But she wouldn’t hear anything I said—so stubborn she was!”

  “Where?” Tragar wanted to shake her. “Where did she go? Tell me, Goddess damn you!”

  The witch gave him a wide-eyed innocent look.

  “Why…to the Howlund, my Lord. Leastways, that’s where she was headed when last I saw her.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Hello, little female—are you lost?”

  The voice from behind her made Emily jump and gasp in surprise. She whirled around, putting an arm over her ridiculously capped nipples and stared up at a tall, muscular male with piercing blue eyes and a smirk on his face. She was lost actually—completely lost. But somehow she didn’t think asking him directions would be a good idea.

  “Um…I’m fine.” Slowly, she began to back away, only to bump into something hard and warm.

  “What’s your hurry, little female?” another deep voice rumbled behind her.

  “Leave me alone,” she managed to say, though her mouth was so dry it was hard to talk. The bright blue sunlight beat down on her, making the whole scene seem horribly surreal but she knew she couldn’t afford to believe this was all just a really vivid nightmare. Thinking like that would get her killed…or worse.

  “We would, but clearly you don’t want to be left alone.” There was a third voice now—another male was closing in, cutting off her escape route.

  “Jey’s right,” said the first male. “If you wanted to be left alone, why would you come to the Howlund just at this time dressed like that and smelling so hot? I think you want to try love with a changed one—is that right, little female? You want to rut with a male in his fur-form?”