Seaborn 02 - Seaborn

by Chris Howard

  Something was different ... about the zipper. It lifted the soft material away from her skin when he tugged on it. I'm not wearing my wetsuit. They've taken my gear. Someone's dressed me in something else. It felt like sweatshirt material.

  The zipper growled open to her navel, where the thick cloth folded and hung up the zipper's progress. The intruder gasped in frustration, hitting Corina's sense of smell with a gush of wine.

  He's been drinking ... a lot.

  She processed everything like an observer, with detached analysis, breaking down the intruder's movements on her body, studying every bit of information coming in through her senses. Her anger stirred slowly, but it was a deep volcanic rumbling that sent shivers and twists seismically through the terrain of her mind.

  Then her motor functions kicked in.

  She stamped her left foot flat against the bed, throwing the bottom half of her body into the air, brought her right leg against her chest, and hooked his neck in the crook of her knee, holding the intruder's head in place with her thigh.

  Crush his throat.

  She heard the words in her inner voice but wasn't certain they were her own. She gritted her teeth and thrust her legs together.

  "Wait, Corina. I have thought of something more suitable.” Her own lips moved, and made the sounds, but the thought behind them wasn't her own. “A broken man would be of no use to me."

  Her body came alive and released the intruder, kneed him in the face, and kicked him away. Pinnet staggered across the room, falling backward. The keys went flying. His hands went to his face, and Corina sprang into the air, bounding from the bed to the center I-beam running the length of the ceiling. Her fingers curled around the flat blade of metal, snapped open, and dropped her to the floor. She landed in a crouch like a cat.

  Corina hadn't made her body jump six feet in the air to the ceiling. Aleximor was awake and in control.

  "He is a most disagreeable person.” Aleximor straightened and closed the zipper, sniffing with distaste, watching the man on the floor. “Thank you, Corina. You have undoubtedly saved us from a painful and humiliating experience. For my part, I will see that our unwashed, groping friend never again has the chance to take an innocent young lady against her will."

  Pinnet crawled away, shaking his head, as if to throw off confusion. His nose hurt and he couldn't stop his eyes watering. He backed into the far wall, pushed off the floor and stood up. He tried to focus on Corina and his lips pulled away from his teeth, yellow stumps lining his mouth.

  Aleximor watched him coolly, digging blue-painted fingernails into his palm and then tapping softly with the pads of each finger, the thin webbing between each undulating with the motion. He sang softly.

  There was a sound like fingernails tearing loose and hooks materialized in the air in front of Aleximor's hands, four hooks that looked like jagged coral. Two of them drifted together and joined along the stem with the deadly sharp arcs a finger's width apart.

  Across the room, Pinnet stared back, the muscles in his face slackening in wonder. His eyes—starting to clear—went wide and fixed on a point just beyond Aleximor's fingertips.

  The hooks shot away and looped around Pinnet's head. He started to twist his neck around to follow them when they stopped sharply, the double hook an inch from the tip of his nose, the two singles aligned with each ear.

  Pinnet's brows ground together. His eyes crossed slightly, trying to focus on what was obviously some kind of weapon floating in front of him. He reached a hand up cautiously.

  The double hook dipped as it drove in and caught his nostrils. The singles punched through his ears into the sides of his skull. The four of them went rigid, stems toward the ceiling on invisible line, and lifted Pinnet off the floor.

  Pinnet wriggled around in the air, struggling in silence a few seconds, as surprised as Corina. Then he shrieked, his fingers clawing at the hooks.

  Aleximor sang a swift stream of words, calling his familiar, something that looked like a cross between a monkey and a clawed hand of metal. It dropped out of the air and scuttled across the floor on ten legs like a crab.

  The thing hopped, caught hold of Pinnet's swinging ankles, and crawled up the front of his body. Its pointed claws worked through Pinnet's uniform like a walking pair of scissors. It dropped blue threads and snipped wedges of material in its wake.

  It circled under Pinnet's left arm and walked along his shoulders, ducking under his arms, puncturing and scissoring, severing tendons, until his arms hung loose at his sides, dead weight with reflexive twitching in his hands. It crawled up Pinnet's spine and emerged on the top of his head, its ten arms extending and clenching like a giant's armored fist, getting a firm seat.

  The thing dug six of its legs into the back of Pinnet's head while four in the front extended, swung in over Pinnet's pain-contorted face, and neatly scooped out his eyes, juggling them on sharp metallic points.

  It stuffed the white lumpy knots into Pinnet's screaming mouth and, edging forward over Pinnet's brow, it forced the eyes down his throat. Pinnet gagged and spit, biting the metal arms as they plunged at the back of his throat. His teeth broke against the crab's legs, crumbling in his mouth like chalk.

  Then Aleximor's pet lifted its body a few inches off Pinnet's forehead. A glowing faceted orb of blue fire ran down the wrinkled bridge of the engineer's nose, burning a dark line along the skin. It stopped against the stem of the hooks in Pinnet's nostrils. The forward fingers caught it, rolled it around the obstruction, and pushed it past Pinnet's lips to the back of his throat.

  The blue fire scorched his esophagus smooth. It settled in the pit of his stomach, cutting through the lining, muscle tissue and bone, cauterizing as it passed through each. The blue ball of fire dropped from between Pinnet's legs and spun smoldering across the floor. A quart of thick brown bubbling fluid followed, seeping down his legs, the combined liquid contents of his stomach, intestines, bladder, mingling into a oily runnel.

  Aleximor made a few gestures with his fingers, snapping them into his palm, and the hooks vanished, dropping Pinnet inelegantly to the floor. He ignored Corina's screaming for him to stop. He walked over and dug one foot under Pinnet's corpse and gave it a shove.

  "Skatophagoi surfacers. They will pay for sending this animal to threaten me. They will all pay."

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  Chapter Fifteen

  Lady Kallixene

  The Seaborn use several names to identify their power, with goeteias (sorcery, magic) the common term used. The bleed-holder can maintain his or her power as long as there are no genetic descendents able to receive it. The bleed selects the recipient, not the bleed-holder, and although in almost every case, the bleed line is restricted to direct descendants, it is possible to jump branches on the family tree and flow to a niece, nephew, grandchildren. As awful as this sounds, there are many stories of siblings killing each other over the bleed of a parent, either to eliminate competition, or out of hatred of the one who finally does receive it.

  —Michael Henderson, notes

  * * * *

  "What did she say?” Kassandra tried to read the look on Nic's face. Nicole was digging through short-term memory for the sounds Jill had made over the phone a moment before. The sounds formed words that were repeatable but incomprehensible. “She said ... something about reverse French ... and glitter something...” She showed her teeth with a tentative smile. “I don't know. You talk to her."

  Kassandra stared blankly. “Reverse French ... braids? Her hair? Is that what she's talking about? Something with her hair?” She shook her head, convinced. “Lady Kallixene isn't going to want glitter in her hair."

  "I don't think so either.” Nicole's expression softened, thinking back on her only memories of the Rexenor ruler, commanding soldiers on the front steps of St. Clement's. “Kah-lix-uh-nee. I love her name. She's a classic Queen Elizabeth I archetype."

  "Right-o,” said Kassandra in what she thought sounded like a British accent. �
��But with a sword she's actually killed with. And don't forget to put ‘Lady’ before her name. Always."

  Nicole hesitated, then said, “Are you Seaborn always fighting? Always at war with one another?"

  Kassandra frowned and rolled her eyes as she punched in Jill's phone number. “Apparently. The nine dominate politics and their cities back up against each other inside one giant city, someone's idiotic idea to pack them all into one place and hope they behave."

  "The Nine-cities. Enneapolis. The silent cities,” said Nicole in awe. “Is it beautiful?"

  Kassandra slid her phone against her ear, nodding. “Beyond anything you can imagine, and I've only seen it from a distance.” She pointed at Nicole and gave her a steady gaze. “I will see to it that one day you will get a view from the most commanding position in the city. I'm working on it. For now, picture a curvier, taller, floating New York City against a pure black sky, lit up blue—hang on, Nic. Jill? I can tell you right now, Lady Kallixene isn't going to want sparkles or whatever you have planned for her hair.” Kassandra nodded again, staring into the distance. “But Nic said you said something about reverse French something with glitter. Oh. Okay.” She tilted her phone down, jutting her chin at Nicole. “Not hair. Jill's made a nail appointment for Lady Kallixene."

  Nicole pulled her mouth into a worried upside-down smile. “And that's going to go over better than the hair?"

  "We'll ask her and see what happens.” Kassandra shrugged. “In fact, I have a few questions for Grandma myself."

  * * * *

  "She's here?” Gregor called over his shoulder halfway down the basement stairs.

  Kassandra opened her eyes and released a breath, focusing on the kitchen and the faces of her sisters. She nodded her head.

  Zypheria, who didn't like the defensive shortcomings of the kitchen, stood off to one side unarmed, her hands curled into fists. Gregor had sent Michael Henderson to the store for wine and, on the way back, a pick-up order for a couple boats of sushi and sashimi at Shizuko's.

  "She's here."

  "Kassandra, stand in the middle. Girls, I'll get the—"

  "She's already through the gate, Dad.” Kassandra was the only one who seemed relaxed.

  Gregor's cheerful voice came from the basement. “Oh. Hello, Phaidra!"

  Gregor's sister was the first to appear at the bottom of the stairs, dressed ... like a surfacer, in shorts and a tight orange Lycra shirt that showed off her muscular build. She held a drawn sword like a dagger, point down. Seawater drained out of her black braids, splattering the concrete at her feet. She didn't smile but her eyebrows jumped when she saw Gregor. She gave his arm a squeeze then her eyes lifted warily to the kitchen.

  "I have to secure the location myself, Gregor. You know Mother."

  He followed her up the stairs and leaned against the fridge, waiting beside Nicole, Kassandra, and Jill.

  Phaidra gave short bows to the three girls standing with their backs to the counter in the center of the kitchen and nodded to Zypheria. She paused to scowl at the crossbow bolt sticking out of the ceiling above the sink, made a signal with her left hand, and headed into the living room. A dozen soldiers in silver-scaled armor climbed the stairs in two rows, swords drawn, eyeing Gregor, his daughters, and Zypheria unemotionally, dividing into several groups to search the house.

  Kassandra felt Andromache respond to the armed men. The warrior queen within her forced a sheathed sword to appear in Kassandra's left hand. She clutched it tight and quickly hid it behind her back.

  Zypheria gave her a nod and her lips stretched into something close to a smile. She mouthed the words, “Do not ever bow first."

  Gregor breathed in the strong ocean scent coming up from the grotto and sighed.

  Jill leaned forward in front of Kassandra with a grin at Nicole. “Did you see what Aunt Phaidra was wearing?"

  Nicole nodded and jerked her head to the stairs. At the same time a piercing whistle came from somewhere in the house.

  Both of them snapped to attention.

  Lady Kallixene moved into the kitchen as if she was floating on the air, her long gold brocaded gown rustling like seaweed on the concrete steps. Even her arms moved fluidly as she lifted one over her head, her elbow slightly bent, her fingers spread, webbing tight. Her other arm slipped low in the opposite gesture, making a large S.

  "What does it mean?” Nicole leaned against Kassandra's shoulder and breathed the words through her smile.

  "Think it's a formal...” Kassandra whispered back, her voice trailing off as she spotted three young men in silver brocaded tunics with the Rexenor seabird stitched in black, following Lady Kallixene, several steps behind her.

  Jill did her “worried scowl without appearing to scowl expression"—a hardening of the skin around her eyes. Nicole simply glowered at them. Kassandra let the smile that was forming inside her rise to her lips.

  Damn you, Grandmother, you are bold to bring them along. She noted that two of them had the Rexenor family appearance, the dark hair, the wider buttonish nose with blue-green eyes—and the third had lighter shoulder-length curly hair. Obviously from an unrelated noble family, no doubt intended to be Kassandra's escort.

  Lady Kallixene stopped a few paces from her granddaughters. Her hair was a lot grayer than they remembered and her braids were nearly cotton white with a few granite stripes. Her eyes were as dark as ever, piercing points of infinity scanning the kitchen with a mother's it'll-do borderline approval. They rested on Zypheria and then each of the girls in turn, stopping an instant too long on Kassandra, before moving past Nicole to Gregor.

  "You look well, my son."

  "As do you, Mother."

  "Except for your eyes, which seem to have lost most of their ability to perceive. I am old as the sea, Gregor."

  He smiled. “You will not hear it from me."

  A smile pulled at her lips. She bowed her head and he bowed back at almost the same time. She bowed to Zypheria who managed to bow her head right before Lady Kallixene. She bowed to Jill, met her eyes, and, taking in the thousand-dollar pale yellow skirt and jacket she was wearing, said, “You are stunning, Jillian. Your skill with sailing boats, and your keen eye and candor are welcome in my family. You remind me ... of myself when I was young."

  "I'm very honored, Lady Kallixene,” said Jill, curtsying. She straightened, leaned forward, and whispered loudly and conspiratorially at the same time. “By the way, I love your gown. Is that silk? We're going to have to get you down to Newberry Street for shopping. I've also made you an appointment with my manicurist to get something fancy for your nails."

  Kallixene nodded. “I look forward to it."

  Jill's eyes slid to the right and met Kassandra's for a moment. She gave her a thank-you nod for advising her to change into something more conservative, taking Kass's recommendation that a short skirt with fishnets would not necessarily be received as “going for an ‘oceany’ look."

  Kallixene bowed to Nicole, held her eyes while the seconds ticked by, and a smile came to her lips before she released her. “Nikoletta? You have grown wiser. I welcome your strength and understanding in my household."

  "You honor me, Lady Kallixene,” said Nicole and bowed low, grinning at the Hellene form of her full name.

  Phaidra and her troop of soldiers appeared in the kitchen, swords in scabbards. Three of them slipped behind Kallixene to stand beside Zypheria, hands behind their backs, legs braced apart.

  Kallixene took a step closer to Kassandra, and they locked eyes for nearly a minute. Jill shuffled nervously. Phaidra and Zypheria wore identical suspicious expressions. Some of the Rexenor soldiers and all three of the young men in her wake exchanged wondering looks. Kassandra blinked, tilting her head down with a warm, genuine smile, and Kallixene followed her, but with tears pouring from her eyes.

  "Lady Kassandra, you are truly Poseidon's Chosen."

  Then Kallixene bent down and got on her knees.

  There were several gasps, but Kassandra's shocke
d yelp drowned them. She dropped to the floor and threw her arms around Kallixene, her sword still in her hand, the scabbard digging into the gold brocade as she squeezed.

  Phaidra and her soldiers snapped alert, their hands going to their swords. The three young men backed up to the top of the stairs. Zypheria kicked open the cabinet below her and the stock of a loaded crossbow fell against her thigh. She didn't reach for it. She pulled an entire drawn sword out of nowhere, and gave Phaidra and the entire Rexenor guard a look that clearly said: who wants a window seat on Charon's boat?

  Kassandra kissed the tears off her grandmother's cheeks. “Do not do this, Lady Kallixene. Please, get up.” She released her grandmother, helping her up with her right hand. Kallixene noticed the sword in Kassandra's left hand. She blinked, the sight of the weapon right in front of her taking her by surprise.

  Kallixene swung her head to Phaidra, who had her blade half-drawn. “The house is clear of danger, daughter? You gave me the signal!"

  Kassandra took in Zypheria's stance and weapon and then tossed her sword to her. She grabbed Kallixene's left hand and helped her to her feet, still scowling at Zypheria. “What the hell's going on?"

  Zypheria bowed low, leaning back at the same time, surreptitiously shoving the crossbow inside the cabinet. She flipped the two swords she now held, hilt out, and slid them onto the kitchen counter behind her.

  Kassandra's eyes moved over the Rexenor soldiers, to Phaidra, then back to Zypheria. “Answer me!"

  Zypheria tilted her head down. “Milady. The Rexenor guard moved in offensive preparation when they noticed you had your sword."

  Kassandra held her gaze another moment. Nodding curtly, she said, “Very well. Sorry, Grandmother. Sorry, Phaidra. Queen Andromache got a little tense when your guard came up the stairs with weapons drawn. She summoned it. I did not."

  Kassandra sighed and let her gaze stop on her aunt, and then moved to the guards. She rapidly curled two of her fingers in, a hand-me-my-sword gesture, to Zypheria, who slid it off the counter and tossed it back to her. Halfway across the space between them it dissolved in the air, vanishing, and every Rexenor guard blinked in surprise. The three young men at the stairs gaped.