Targeted

by Evangeline Anderson

  Tragar started to protest but it only took a moment. After a second, Kate dropped Emily’s hand and nodded.

  “Okay, I understand now. Hey, guys,” she said, turning to her mate and the other pair he had introduced as Solar and Kaylee. “Seems we came kind of in the middle of things. Emily’s okay but we’re going to have to wait until the situation here gets resolved before anyone goes anywhere.”

  “What’s this? Who are these people and what do they want?” The High Priestess came striding up, her long robes swishing over the grass.

  “We’re just spectators, Priestess.” Rone bowed his head respectfully. “For now, anyway.”

  “We’re here for Emily—to back her up.” Kate gave Mother Chundra a very unfriendly look. Emily wondered if she’d seen what the High Priestess had been up to during their brief handshake. What kind of gift did she have, anyway?

  “Well, you cannot stay! No one outside the Temple may witness the Right of Conflict,” Mother Chundra declared.

  “A-hem.” Brother Hurx, who had followed her over, cleared his throat. “Actually, I am afraid you have gotten that particular law backwards, Mother Chundra. It clearly states that anyone can come to view a Right of Conflict, even if they are in no way affiliated with the Temple. In fact, having completely unrelated persons present was often encouraged in the past as it proved the veracity of the contest.”

  “Oh, very well.” The High Priestess was looking angrier and angrier. “But whatever you do, stay out of the way. This is a contest to the death and we cannot have any outside interference.” She stalked away.

  Emily felt her mouth go dry as she watched Mother Chundra leave.

  “To…to the death? Did she say to the death?”

  “Do not worry about it.” Tragar’s eyes gleamed. “I will dispatch the other candidate and we will be together before you know it.”

  “No, it’s not that!” Emily took his arm as Kate and Rone and the other couple went to sit on the benches. “I know you can slaughter him in no time flat—I just don’t want you to!”

  “What?” Tragar frowned. “Have you suddenly developed feelings for him? Do you wish me to step aside and let you mate him instead?”

  “Of course not!” Emily exclaimed. “Would I threaten to kill myself if they wouldn’t let me be with you if that was how I felt?”

  He shook his head. “Well, then why—?”

  “Because he’s a really nice guy,” Emily said earnestly. “And because Lit’aal over there is in love with him. Just look at the two of them!” She gestured to where Lit’aal was holding Daro’s arm much in the way she was holding Tragar’s. There was an anxious look on her face and she and Daro were talking softly, leaning in to each other to get closer.

  “Seven Hells,” Tragar muttered savagely. “I had hoped to be fighting against an opponent who deserved death. I thought that anyone who dared to take you away from me fell squarely into that category.”

  “He only agreed to take me on because Lit’aal told him how hard this whole process has been for me,” Emily said in a low voice. “All the other candidates think of me as damaged goods—you saw how they looked at me.”

  “They are fools,” Tragar growled. “The worst kind of fools if they could not see how beautiful and perfect you are, my Khalla.”

  “Thank you for that,” Emily said, smiling a little. “But that still doesn’t solve the problem—what are you going to do? How can you win the Conflict without killing Daro?”

  He shook his head. “In truth, I do not think that I can. If the High Priestess would clear you to bond with the male of your choosing, the Conflict might be put aside. But I doubt she will agree to that.”

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Emily said grimly. “Come on.” She grabbed him by the arm and led the way to where the High Priestess and the other two members of the Holy Council were standing.

  As they walked up, Emily saw that Brother Hurx was holding open a long case lined with some soft black material like velvet. Inside it were two long metal instruments that looked like swords with four, long, sharp hooks poking out just above the hilt. Her heart dropped into her stomach as she watched the Kindred priest beckon to Daro who came up and took a weapon. He hefted it in his hand uncertainly. There was a look on his face that said he’d never seen anything like it before.

  Though all Kindred were warriors, Daro was also a medic—the Kindred version of a doctor, Emily reminded herself. And a pediatric one at that. So this fight was going to be a mild-mannered pediatrician versus a deadly assassin. It was going to be a massacre if the High Priestess didn’t back down. Emily just hoped she could make her see reason.

  “Excuse me, Mother Chundra?” she murmured, coming up to her. “Could we please have a word in private?”

  “What is it now?” the High Priestess snapped. “Have you thought of another way to profane the ceremony?”

  “No, that’s not what this is about. It’s about saving someone’s life,” Emily said evenly. “Will you please at least listen to what I have to say?”

  Mother Chudra gave her an angry look.

  “Fine. But be quick about it—the contest is about to begin.”

  Emily took a deep breath.

  “Mother Chundra, I know you’re not very happy with me right now but can’t we just forget about this whole fight and go our separate ways?”

  “Forget about the fight?” The other woman’s eyebrows raised high in skeptical surprise. “Do you not recall, Khalla-to-be, that it was your inferior male who demanded it in the first place by invoking the Right of Conflict rule.”

  “Yes, but we don’t have to do it—you can end it with a word,” Emily said pleadingly. “This fight—this conflict—is going to be a massacre! Just look at them.” She pointed at Daro who was still eyeing his blade uncertainly and Tragar who was swinging his in deadly, efficient arcs. Doubtless he was just getting warmed up.

  “Yes, I see the contestants. What of it?” Mother Chundra snapped.

  “What of it is Tragar is going to kill Daro in the first five minutes. He’s a trained assassin with hundreds of kills under his belt and Daro is a pediatrician. They’re not evenly matched at all!”

  The High Priestess sniffed. “That is not my problem.”

  “But…don’t you care that Daro will die?” Emily demanded. “You handpicked him to come here as a candidate and he gave up his whole life to answer your call.”

  “Which is only as it should be.” Mother Chundra lifted her chin and looked down her nose at Emily. “I am the Head of the Holy Council. My word is law.”

  “Right,” Emily muttered. God, she couldn’t believe the power trip this woman was on! Still, she tried to keep her anger in check. “But Daro doesn’t deserve to die—he’s a really nice, upstanding, honorable guy.”

  “Not ‘nice’ enough, apparently, for you to want him as your chosen mate,” the High Priestess said sarcastically.

  “Well, no. He’s not Tragar. I told you when I came here that we were already together. I can’t—”

  “The solution to this problem is simple,” the High Priestess snapped, cutting her off. “Renounce your intention to bond with that filthy assassin and return to the Sacred Grove to continue your bonding ceremony with Daro.”

  “You know I can’t do that,” Emily said. “Tragar and I are meant to be together. He found me on my home planet light years from here where there has never been a single Khalla before. He saved me. Please, just try to understand.”

  “No, you understand me.” Mother Chundra stabbed a long, boney finger in Emily’s face. “Either accept Daro as your chosen mate or watch him get slaughtered before your eyes. Those are your only choices.”

  Emily felt her eyes starting to burn as the other came forward.

  “Don’t you care at all that an innocent life will be lost just because you can’t have your way? Are you really that heartless?” she demanded, the voice of the other coming from her lips. Emily found she didn’t mind though—they were
in complete agreement about this.

  “The conflict is about to begin. Go and find a seat, Khalla-to-be. Your whining bores me.” Mother Chundra waved her away.

  Numbly, Emily left the High Priestess and went to Tragar.

  He stopped making the short, deadly practice swings and gave her his whole attention.

  “What is it, my Khalla? Your eyes are golden—are you all right?”

  “She won’t do it,” Emily said, feeling like she might cry tears of pure rage. “She won’t call it off. She doesn’t care if Daro gets killed.”

  “So the High Priestess refuses to cry off the Conflict.” Daro came up to them, the spiked sword held loosely in one hand. “Forgive me,” he added. “I could not help overhearing.”

  Tragar sighed. “Emily here fears for your safety.”

  “As well she should.” Daro nodded gravely. “Even if I had spent the last five years training instead of practicing medicine, I still would not like my odds against a member of the Verrak.”

  “Daro, what are you saying?”

  The soft voice was familiar—Lit’aal. Emily groaned inwardly when she saw that the little priestess had crept up behind them to listen in.

  Daro sighed and put an arm around Lit’aal’s slight shoulders.

  “I am only saying that now may be a good time for us to say our goodbyes, Lit’aal.”

  “What? No!” She shook her head, her indigo eyes wide. “No, you can’t give up like that! You can’t—I won’t let you. I…” Her lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears. “I love you, Daro! I didn’t have the courage to admit it before but it’s true—it’s true.”

  “I love you, too,” he said gently. “I am sorry we could not have more time together.”

  “Oh my God…” Emily put her head in her hands. “Oh, Tragar—I don’t think I can do this!”

  “Do you wish me to step down? To let you…” His throat worked as though he was forcing the words out. “To let you bond with another?”

  Emily opened her mouth but Daro spoke before she could answer.

  “No!” He shook his head firmly. “No, you must not do that.” He looked at Emily. “I want to tell you how inspired I was by your actions in the Sacred Grove this morning. You would rather choose death than being bonded to the wrong person.” He lifted his chin. “I feel the same way. Though being a chosen mate to a Khalla is a great honor, I would rather die than be with anyone but the female I love.” He squeezed Lit’all’s shoulders and she burst into fresh sobs.

  Tragar nodded, a look of respect gleaming in his golden eyes.

  “You speak truth from the heart, my Brother. Though we cannot avoid this conflict, I give you my oath as a Kindred and as a member of the Verrak that your death will be swift and painless.”

  “Thank you.” Daro held out his hand and Tragar took it in a warrior’s clasp. They gripped hard for a moment, each male’s fingers digging into the other’s forearm.

  “I salute your courage,” Tragar told him.

  “And I, yours.” Daro nodded.

  “Enough of this endless talking!” The voice of the High Priestess rang out, interrupting the solemn moment. “This Conflict must begin soon. I have noticed that the Khalla-to-be’s eyes are glowing gold steadily now. She must have a chosen mate very soon!”

  “Fine,” Tragar growled, throwing her an angry look. “We will begin.”

  He released Daro’s arm and the two stepped back and faced each other. Feeling wretched, Emily put her arm around Lit’aal’s shaking shoulders and led her back to the benches. Somehow she got the sobbing girl seated beside her and found that Kate, the girl with the curly red hair was on her other side.

  “What was that all about?” Kate murmured from the corner of her mouth.

  “Mother Chundra—the High Priestess—could stop this with a word but she won’t,” Emily muttered back, her eyes never leaving the arena where Tragar and Daro were circling each other warily. “She’s determined that I should be with Daro but he’s in love with Lit’aal here and of course, I can’t be with anyone but Tragar.”

  “Of course not,” Kate said sympathetically. “He found you in the first place, right?”

  “Yes. Well, I mean, he was supposed to kill me,” Emily said in a low voice. “But he couldn’t. At first because of biology and the way Beast Kindred feel about a Khalla and then later because, well, we fell in love.” She gave the other girl a sidelong glance. “I know that sounds like the worst case of Stockholm syndrome ever—falling in love with your assassin slash kidnapper—but you have to understand Tragar. He’s had a terrible past and he’s so sweet and kind and—”

  “Deadly,” Kate finished for her in an awed voice.

  Emily looked up and saw that the battle was in full swing now. Tragar and Daro were circling each other, their weapons flying in sweeping arcs. Tragar moved with ease and skill, deflecting every blow the other Kindred threw at him with hardly any effort at all. His own blade was a blur but as yet, he hadn’t even attacked. He was simply moving around the arena as Daro hacked and slashed desperately, trying to find an opening.

  But there was no opening to find. Emily had never been a big fan of action movies—fight scenes bored her to tears. But even to her untrained eyes, Tragar’s technique was fluid, flawless…and deadly, just as Kate had said. The air was filled with the sound of metal on metal and sparks flew from their blades every time they met. But try as he might, Daro couldn’t make any headway.

  Tragar fought silently, a look of intense concentration on his face. As they watched, he made a sudden move, too fast to see, and Daro’s spiked blade went flying and landed harmlessly in the grass several feet away. The sun glinted off it, blinding Emily for a moment.

  Daro scrambled for his sword but again, Tragar was too quick for him. In another fluid move, he was behind the other Kindred with his sword pressed to his throat.

  “Oh God,” she breathed too softly for the weeping Lit’aal to hear. “He’s going to die—Tragar is going to kill him.”

  “Looks like it,” Kate murmured back. “Now I can see why Rone and everybody on the Mother Ship was so worried about you—these Verrak fellas don’t play around.”

  “I don’t want to watch,” Emily whispered, her throat dry and her heart pounding. “I can’t…” But somehow she couldn’t look away. The bench felt hard under her behind and the sunshine was hot on her shoulders. The heavy scent of flowers and herbs coming from the nearby garden turned her stomach. She became aware that her eyes were burning again—the other was as upset as she was.

  “This isn’t right—he should not have to do this. Tragar, the one we love, he should not have this death on his conscious as well.”

  I know, Emily told her. But what can he do? His hands are tied.

  She waited anxiously for the final blow to fall—for Tragar to sweep the sword blade across the other man’s neck and cut his throat. She could almost see the crimson droplets pattering down on the dusty grass and smell the metallic tang of blood in the air…

  Then, to her surprise, Tragar stepped back and threw down his sword.

  “No.” He looked up, looked around the arena at the watching spectators. “No, I will not take this male’s life. Through all my years in the Verrak, I have spilled enough blood to fill a fountain but I have never taken the blood of an innocent.” He glared at the High Priestess. “I do not intend to start now.”

  “You must, warrior!” She stood up from the bench she’d been sitting on and pointed a finger at him. “It was you who demanded the Right of Conflict! You must see it to its end or forfeit the hand of the Khalla-to-be!”

  “I will do neither!” Tragar’s voice was a low, angry growl. “Daro shall go free and I will bond Emily to me despite your spiteful demands. You may be the head of the Holy Council but you do not have the right to ruin the lives or cause the deaths of others.”

  “Then your Khalla-to-be will be denied access to the breeding suite.” Mother Chundra pointed at Emily. “Without the lo
vesuckle blossoms to ease the final stage of her Tenrah, she will have almost no chance of survival. So go on and take her if you wish—take her far from the Temple and never return. You may live a long and happy life together—if she survives.”

  There were low gasps from some of the priestesses nearby.

  “Can she do that?” Emily heard one of them whisper to another. “Denying access to the breeding suite is tantamount to signing a death sentence for the Khalla-to-be!”

  “She is the High Priestess,” her friend whispered back. “She can do as she pleases.”

  Emily felt sick. Was this really how it was going to go? Was she going to die after all when the final stage of her Shift hit her?

  “I do not accept this—” Tragar began, glaring at Mother Chundra. He seemed about to continue but he was interrupted by a muffled shriek from one of the priestesses. Emily winced at the sudden noise—then the girl beside her began to shriek too.

  “Oh merciful Goddess—look at it!” the first girl gasped. “What is that?”

  Emily followed their eyes and saw something strange and horrible and somehow familiar appearing over the crest of the hill.

  First came a huge, triangular black head as big as a beach ball. Black compound eyes glittered in the sunlight, flashing first bottle green, then gold, then neon blue. A long, narrow thorax with two insectile, chitinous arms folded close on either side followed. The body segment was striped in midnight black and red the color of old blood.

  Finally, as the creature made its way nimbly up the hill on its long, skinny black legs, Emily saw a sleek abdomen that was partially transparent. Within its swollen curvature was a pulsing, bright green liquid. The final segment of the body ended with a barbed, inward curving stinger as long as Emily’s arm. It’s deadly, sharp point dripped with the green venom she could see seething in its abdomen.

  The sight made her sick with fear.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered faintly and she felt the other’s horror as well.