Targeted

by Evangeline Anderson

  “You must not speak so of the High Priestess.” Lit’aal looked shocked.

  “Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?” Emily demanded.

  “Well…” Lit’all bit her lip. “Yes, in a way, I suppose. The Khallas are an extension of the Temple and the High Priestess’s power. They are beloved of the people and their support comes back to the Temple, making Mother Chundra one of the most powerful females on Rageron. I suppose that is why she keeps such tight control over the Khallas.”

  “Why does she get to run this whole place and say who the Khallas get to bond with?” Emily demanded. “She’s not even a Khalla herself, is she?”

  “No.” Lit’aal shook her head. “But she has been in charge here for a very long time. It is said that things were different before she took control but that was so long ago people can scarcely remember it.”

  “So she gets to tell everybody what to do, even if it makes them miserable.” Emily frowned. “What about the candidates? Do they come here of their own choosing?”

  “Some do,” Emily said carefully. “But some are handpicked by Mother Chundra. She goes all over Rageron looking for the best and brightest males. They are made to come here to the Temple where they must stay until they become the chosen mate to a Khalla.”

  “But I thought that Khallas are really rare,” Emily protested. “What if they don’t get one?”

  Lit’all shrugged sadly. “After a time they will be sent from the Temple but they must remain celibate all of their lives, as a sacrifice to the Goddess. It is…not a happy life.”

  “For the candidates or for the Khallas either, apparently,” Emily muttered. “Why don’t people just rebel? Run away? Leave her boney ass here and go do their own thing?”

  “Oh, we cannot do that!” Lit’all looked shocked. “The High Priestess is the Mouthpiece of the Goddess and the head of the Holy Council. She must be obeyed.”

  “Even if it means getting married, uh, bonded to someone you don’t love and spending your whole life on an endless publicity tour?” Emily demanded. “No, I don’t accept that!”

  “There is nothing you can do about it, my Khalla,” Lit’all said sadly. “My friend protested too loudly and Mother Chundra made sure she was bonded to the male least suitable for her.” She sighed. “At least you will be getting Daro. He will be kind and supportive of you, my Khalla. And I hope…” She bit her lip. “I hope you do not mind if we speak to each other from time to time. Not extensively, though.” She sighed. “Though I will miss our walks in the garden at night.”

  The garden… For some reason, the idea of a garden…of plants and growing things seemed to resonate in Emily’s head. Suddenly she heard a voice whispering, “Milk…you must drink the Black Milk. Tis the sap of the Bitter Sorrow flower—it grows only on Rageron in the Holy Mountains.”

  “The garden?” she asked, clearing her throat. “Is it filled with all kinds of flowers or what?”

  “The Temple has extensive flower and herb gardens,” Lit’aal said eagerly. “There you will find every kind of plant that is native to the Holy Mountains.”

  “That actually sounds pretty interesting,” Emily said. “You know, I think I will take that walk with, uh, Daro. But only if you come with us,” she added quickly.

  “Oh, I couldn’t!” Lit’aal protested. “You need time alone with your chosen mate to get to know him, Khalla.”

  “No, I need the only friendly person I’ve met since I came to this awful place to stick with me,” Emily said firmly. She hooked her arm through Lit’all’s. “Come on—show me the gardens.”

  Lit’aal looked suddenly uncertain. “I don’t know, my Khalla. I believe I am supposed to call a retinue of guards to accompany us if we go out of the Temple at all.”

  “Why bother?” Emily asked, trying to sound like it was no big deal. “Daro is going to be with us, isn’t he? And we’re not going anywhere dangerous—just out in the gardens. That’s not a big deal, right?”

  “Well…” The other girl seemed to be wavering. “I suppose not.”

  “All right then—let’s go!” Emily started pulling her down the long marble hallway. “Tell me more about Daro. How long have you guys been talking?”

  Lit’aal’s indigo eyes lit up and she began to tell all about the man Emily was certain she loved. She pretended to listen but inside, she kept hearing the voice in her head urging, “The Black Milk, child—drink the Black Milk and you’ll never be unhappy any more. You’ll never feel anything ever again.”

  * * * * *

  Tragar frowned as he flipped off the viewscreen. That had certainly been a strange call he had received. Apparently the contract on Emily’s life had been cancelled—just like that. In all his years working as an agent of the Verrak such a thing had never happened.

  It must be true though—the male who had called, identifying himself as an agent of the Dark Kindred, Two, had known all the correct information. He had even possessed the secret pass code that only the one who placed the contract would have. It was the only way other than death to end a contract but this was the first time anyone had called Tragar back and used it. Usually when someone wanted another person dead badly enough to bring in the Verrak, they didn’t change their mind.

  He lowered the energy dagger he’d been handling before the call came through. Since Emily was settled with another chosen mate he had felt there was no choice but to go through with his earlier promise and sacrifice himself to fulfill the contract.

  But what now? If the contract is void and Emily is safe?

  Yes, what could he do now? He doubted Tier Shan would welcome him back with open arms. He had showed too much reluctance to follow orders lately. He thought of calling his superior just to inform him of the cancelled contract but there seemed to be no point. The emissary of Two had assured him he had already placed a call to his Verrak superior so there was nothing to say.

  Nothing to say and now, nothing to do. No way to serve the female he loved, even by his death.

  She’s gone, he thought bleakly. Gone beyond my reach and I cannot even sacrifice myself for her. I do not even have an honorable reason to end my own miserable existence.

  Closing his eyes, he saw her lovely face twisted with sorrow, her eyes glowing gold with pain.

  “Fight for me!” she’s said. “Why don’t you fight for me?”

  The memory stirred something in his brain—something under all the guilt and self-recrimination. Fight for me… It made him wonder. Hadn’t his old Master once told them of a law…? But no—what good would it do to even think of such a thing? Emily was with the male she deserved…and one who truly deserved her. He would never see her again.

  Tragar studied the energy knife in his hand again and thumbed on the blue, humming blade. Maybe he didn’t need an honorable reason to take his own life after all…

  Suddenly the indicator light to the viewscreen started blinking urgently. Tragar almost decided to ignore it but then it occurred to him that the call might have to do with Emily in some way. What if she was ill or hurt or in danger? He doubted very much anyone at the Temple would contact him in such a case but he supposed there was an outside chance…

  He hit the button and the viewscreen sprang to life revealing the face of the very male he had been thinking about moments before.

  “Master!” Tragar looked at him in surprise.

  “Tragar.” Xen’dex’s eyes dropped to the glowing blue energy knife in Tragar’s hand. “What are you doing? Where is your Khalla?”

  “She is not my Khalla any more—she never was.” Tragar tried to keep the bitterness out of his voice but could not. “She has been given to another—not that it is very surprising considering my past.”

  “Yes, your past.” Xen’dex was frowning. “What of it?”

  “What do you mean, what of it? You know what I am. You know what I have done.”

  “And I know why you did it.” His old Master nodded. “You had a terrible tragedy, my student, but you cannot allow
it to define you.”

  “It already has.” Tragar contemplated the knife again. “There is no point in pretending otherwise.” He started to raise the blade.

  “No!” Xen’dex’s voice was a roar. “No—you cannot do this, Tragar! Not now when the Goddess has given you a second chance.”

  “What do you know of the Goddess?” Tragar growled, lowering the knife.

  “I know she still loves you, despite the fact that you turned your back on her. I know she grieves for your pain and loss as deeply as you do yourself.”

  “Then why did she let it happen in the first place?” Tragar demanded. “Why did she take Landra and Jalex away from me?”

  Xen’dex shook his head. “I do not know. We live in a broken universe, my student. It is not perfect and the Goddess cannot always keep us from loss and harm and sorrow. But she still loves us and grieves with us. And there are some things that are beyond our understanding—things we will not know the reason for until after we have passed from this life to the next and we stand in her glory.”

  “I am contemplating such a passing right now,” Tragar admitted. “Emily is with another—a chosen mate who truly deserves her. There is no reason for me to continue.”

  “And is she happy?” Xen’dex’s sharp gaze bored into him. “Is she truly happy being given to this other male?”

  “Well…” Tragar frowned. “No. No, but he is a fine, upstanding male and he deserves her.”

  “More than you? More than the male who rescued her from certain death?” Xen’dex demanded. “If you had not found her, she would be passing through the stages of Tenrah alone and unaided—doomed to die because she had no male of her own kind to breed her once her Kit’tara comes forth.”

  “To breed her…” Tragar’s jaw clenched and his teeth ground together as he imagined Emily being taken by some other male. No matter how worthy this Daro might be, the thought of his hands and mouth on Emily’s body made Tragar want to kill the son-of-a-bitch.

  “You don’t like the idea of another male breeding her…guiding her through the mating lust, do you?” Xen’dex’s eyes flashed. “Nor should you. The Goddess gave Emily into your hands and that is where she needs to stay all the way through her Tenrah and beyond.”

  “How can you say that? Why would the Goddess trust me with one of her most precious females when I failed to protect the ones she gave me to love before?” Tragar demanded.

  “Tragar…” Xen’dex sighed. “My student, you cannot keep blaming yourself for their deaths. You did all that you could to protect them and afterwards, you avenged them. It was a terrible tragedy but it’s time to let go of the past and look to the future—your future with Emily.”

  “She is out of my hands now,” Tragar said dully. “It wasn’t just my past the High Priestess objected to. She also saw the truth—that I spanked Emily to keep her Kit’tara in line and that I…” He cleared his throat. “I sucked her peaks and drew the nectar from them.”

  “I told you that might be necessary,” Xen’dex remarked.

  “Yes, but you told me not to swallow any of it. I…” Tragar sighed. “I swallowed every drop. I couldn’t bear not to. It was so sweet…and I could not dishonor her by expelling it from my mouth.”

  “Of course you couldn’t,” his old Master said sympathetically. “Didn’t I tell you that in the past chosen mates always partook of their Khalla’s nectar?”

  “We are not in the distant past—we are in the present and my actions were not approved of by the High Priestess, Mother Chundra. In fact, she called me a blasphemer and had me driven from the Temple.”

  “Then you must go back,” Xen’dex directed. “Has the Bonding Ceremony taken place yet?”

  “No.” Tragar shook his head. “I believe it’s scheduled for tomorrow.”

  “Good. There is still a way you may win your Khalla’s hand—a very old law that even the High Priestess and Mouth of the Goddess cannot circumvent. Listen carefully, Tragar…”

  * * * * *

  “…visit the Deep Blue sometimes. My people would love to meet you,” Lit’aal was saying as she walked side by side with Daro in the flowering, ornamental garden. It was, as she had promised, filled with exotic herbs and flowers. Their mingled fragrances were heavy and rich—a melody of alien scents in the deepening twilight.

  “I am certain that would be fascinating,” Daro murmured, his eyes shining as he looked down at the little priestess. “I have always wanted to go into the Deep Blue.”

  Emily allowed herself to drop further and further along behind the pair until she was almost in another part of the garden. She didn’t worry about them noticing her quiet defection—it was clear to her that Lit’aal and Daro were completely infatuated. They had eyes only for each other which meant she had a chance to find exactly what she needed.

  “You can tell the flower by the fact that it’s all black—root and stem, petal and piston—as black as night without another color in sight,” whispered Grandy See-er’s voice in her head. It sounded so real that Emily could almost believe the old woman was standing right over her shoulder, telling her what to do. For a moment she seemed to see her—hunched over a fire in the dark hovel she’d called her home, feeding pieces of long brownish-blonde hair—Emily’s hair—into a strange, green fire. “Take it, child, so you must,” she was whispering. “Drink deeply of the Black Milk and all your trials will be over forever.”

  Emily shook her head and the vision faded. Could it be that Grandy See-er was really whispering to her, from so many light years away? But no—surely not. She pushed the ridiculous thought to the back of her mind. The Black Milk was all her own idea. It was the only thing that could halt her Tenrah in its tracks—permanently.

  “What if it doesn’t just stop the Tenrah…what if it stops us?” whispered the voice of the other in her head. “What if it kills us?”

  “That’s a chance I’m willing to take,” Emily muttered fiercely. If she could find that damn plant that was…

  “Well, Khalla-to-be, it has been a lovely walk. Should we be getting back to the Temple?”

  Emily’s head jerked up and she realized that Lit’aal and Daro had turned and were looking at her. Just then, she saw what she needed—a thick stalk of pure black with a silky black bloom growing from it was just by the little priestess’s foot.

  “Well, sure—I guess,” she said casually, going to meet them. “Don’t come back—I’ll come to you. I haven’t seen that part of the garden yet.”

  “Of course, my Khalla. We will wait for you.” Daro nodded his head respectfully.

  “No, go ahead.” Emily made a shooing gesture. “You two go on to the gate—I’m right behind you.”

  “As my Khalla wishes,” Lit’aal said. Turning back to Daro, she said something else and the two of them moved slowly towards the elaborately wrought metal gate at the far end of the garden.

  Emily took the opportunity to get to the stalk of the Bitter Sorrow plant and then she leaned over for a moment, as though smelling a flower next to it. As casually as she could, she broke off the thick stem and hid it in the flowing white robe of her sleeve.

  A pungent smell that reminded her of some kind of industrial cleaner immediately assaulted her nose. Emily nearly choked. Ugh—what a horrible stink! She just hoped the fabric of her robe would mute it somewhat. Looking down, she saw that an inky black stain was growing on the white fabric. Hastily, she hid it with her other hand.

  “The Black Milk,” whispered the voice of Grandy See-er in her head. “The Black Milk, it is the only way.”

  “Yes,” whispered Emily, hurrying to catch up with the other two. “Yes, the only way.”

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  “Hurry, my Khalla—you don’t want to be late for your own bonding ceremony.”

  “No, I certainly don’t. Just a minute, I’m almost ready.” Emily looked in the viewer, taking stock of herself one final time. Her hair was put up in a curly updo that Lit’aal had worked all morning on and
she was wearing the traditional bonding robes of a Khalla which looked kind of like a deep red kimono with golden patterns embroidered all over it. There was a gauzy white slip that went under it which Lit’aal told her was meant to be torn open by her bonded mate before they began the breeding cycle, whatever the Hell that was. Emily didn’t know and didn’t care and she wasn’t going to stick around long enough to find out.

  She had other plans.

  Carefully, she checked that the stalk of Bitter Sorrow was still concealed in her long red sleeve. She’d almost taken it last night, as soon as she got back from the garden. In fact, she had stood right here, in front of the mirror and lifted the thick, pungent stalk to her mouth, ready to drink the inky liquid that dripped from it like oil.

  “Drink it,” the voice in her head which sounded remarkably like Grandy See-er had muttered. “Drink it now—you must! You MUST!”

  But for some reason, Emily had hesitated. She wasn’t stupid. She was pretty sure the plant in her hand wasn’t just going to stop her Tenrah and make everything go back to normal. In fact, she thought it very likely that the inky black goo dripping from the ragged plant stem spelled certain death. Nothing that smelled that much like an industrial cleaner could be safe to ingest—it would probably be like drinking Drain-o.

  She didn’t want the other to take over, but she didn’t want to die, either. Maybe some small remnant of her own personality would remain after the fourth stage of her Shift was over—Emily didn’t know. But she thought she might be willing to find out if she had the right person to find out with.

  And that person was Tragar.

  Though she was still hurt and angry at him for giving up on them, she understood why he’d done it. The loss of his wife and child ten years ago had devastated him and he still blamed himself, just as Emily had blamed herself for the rape.

  But I can help him get over it the way he helped me get over what Grayson did—I know I can! If only we could be together.

  But how? And what if he was already gone? What if he had flown away in his ship? Or worse, what if he had decided to fulfill her contract by taking his life after all?