by Linda Welch
No wonder demons refused to speak their makers’ name, a name synonymous with everything the Mothers were not. They used one they considered more appropriate: Dark Cousins.
This was it, the answer to questions which plagued me since I first met Gia Sabato and Daven Clare, heard the name Dark Cousins and knew they must be related to Gelpha.
I leaned back in the chair as I shook my head in awe. Man, oh, man. Fantasy movies I’ve watched paled compared to the reality of Otherworldly creatures really abducting, enslaving and breeding with human beings to populate another dimension.
Yes, I should laugh. A rational person would. Laugh, and agree with Lance’s conclusion this was a sci-fi novel. But I see dead people and I love a man from another dimension, and I’ve always known he’s not human. I’ve walked the Ways between worlds.
When I had the time, I’d take Lance a big box of donuts. Hell, I’d take him out to supper, get him drunk, then ask him to translate the rest of the book. Whatever it took. I’d even pay him.
I smoothed the paper with my palm. Chaldean. Chris said Gelpha writing derived from an archaic form; was this it? Did the Cousins come to my world back in BC and adopt early Chaldean as their written word?
So much came together, I wonder my brain didn’t implode.
“We heal at a rate your mind cannot encompass,” Gia said as we sat in the High House’s infirmary. Healing your body must be easy when you control the process.
Gorge, when we talked in his apartment: “Tradition has a depth of meaning only those who were slaves could understand.”
The reason demons, Dark Cousins and humans were so similar, at least externally. Internally was anyone’s guess. Why Gelpha hated, fought and banished Dark Cousins, and still feared them.
“We are altogether remnants of what the Mothers were.”
Remnants. Gelpha are fast, but not as fast as Mothers. Almost as strong. Both have heightened senses. I pictured their differences, minor differences, really. I would not be surprised if Cousins glittered way back in the beginning. Perhaps they had bright metallic hair and pointed teeth.
Dagka Shan and Teo-Papek had very sharp teeth. I thought Jacob’s teeth were filed into shape, but they weren’t. They were a vestige of a heritage he chose to keep.
I heard Gia: “We change with the times, Miss Banks.” But Dagka Shan and Jacob existed in the depths of primitive Burma. They did not change to blend with modern society.
Memory swept me back to the infirmary again. “We heal. It is a natural biological function. We do not die easily.”
Holding up the paper, I found the sentence: “Unlike natural evolution, they control their metamorphosis.”
This is why Shan did not die when he was buried beneath Nagka. They controlled their bodies as I control my car. Extraordinarily accelerated healing - they morphed their damaged organs into healthy ones.
And Jacob wasn’t stuck as an adolescent boy, he wanted to be one.
I think I took it all calmly. The revelation was little more bizarre than being kidnapped and taken to another world, killing a demon assassin in my backyard, defeating a psychotic Cousin in the High House.
But the information was useless. It contained no clue to what happened to Royal. It didn’t tell me why Orcus wanted to kill Lawrence.
No, Lawrence didn’t deliberately give me that piece of paper. Like his people, he would not want me to know what Dark Cousins actually are. He didn’t realize he gave me the connection which linked the symbols I saw in the Gelpha city to this book, and woke a memory. I imagined him bent over a notebook as he painstakingly penned the questions and his answers in Gelpha. He hears I’m coming to the High House, he wants to get a message to me, so scribbles his little note and rips out the page. He’d tell his tutor he ruined the page, tore it out and threw it away.
Another flash of enlightenment hit me. He wants a bedtime story. Gorge didn’t read Lawrence a fairy tale, he gave him a history lesson.
Oh, Gorge, what have you done. Unknowingly broken a major Gelpha taboo, that’s what.
I created a new folder: Demon 101. What I knew about the Dark Cousins until then, all I’d obsessed over, was locked in my brain, but I could save this on my computer. After all, anyone would think they read fantasy if they saw it.
Not that anyone would see it, unless I didn’t return from Bel-Athaer. Clarion PD would eventually go through my possessions if I disappeared.
I saw Mike, head sunk in his hands. “What has she gotten herself into this time?”
I slapped the desktop. I refused to sink into morbidity. I would come home. But, not surprisingly, I had misgivings.
I was going into Bel-Athaer with the mutha of all Mothers.
God help me.
CHAPTER NINE
Royal smiled wryly. What was I thinking?
Commonsense and logic became obsolete when he fell in love with Tiff. Little else mattered. When he had to obey the High House, knowing he risked his relationship with her, it chafed like an inflamed wound.
He made a grave mistake. He should have told Tiff and let her decide for herself. If she left him, so be it, but she should make the choice, not let Orcus decide for her, for them.
He should have stayed with her, not let her out of his sight, but Lawrence’s message roused an uncontrollable passion to confront the man who deceived him and threatened what he held dear, his woman and his Lord.
Royal grunted as he pulled up until his chin touched the door’s horizontal frame. Rivulets of perspiration ran down his naked, gleaming torso. Every muscle screamed in protest as if about to rupture his skin.
Taking in a deep breath, holding, letting it seep out, he let himself down, then dropped to the floor.
It was a comfortable prison, as prisons went. A little cluttered for his taste, with a fully stocked bar, television, music, books, plenty to while away the time. He had all the average couch potato could wish for, except his freedom.
The walls closed in on him. The sound of the clock ticking away the seconds became so irritating, he wanted to rip it from the wall. The television was a big, blank, watching eye.
He unbuttoned his Levi’s, eased them and his briefs down over taut, muscular thighs, peeled off his socks and went in the bathroom, one hand untying the leather cord which bound his hair.
Why did Orcus hold him? Ryel Morté Tescién, obedient servant to the High House who did as commanded. The man did not know why Royal sought an interview; for all he knew, Royal did everything asked of him, including deny the woman he loved. What gave him away?
Fool, he told himself. Orcus foresaw your coming and motive. He was ready for you. You walked into a trap.
He used the Ways to get near as possible to Orcus’ lair, then went swiftly. Orcus’ minions awaited him. They were polite but firm. Their master was occupied but would be available later. He was shown to a guest room. This suited him admirably. He could take a look around later when all was quiet. But they locked him in.
He could not break through a steel-reinforced door. He had tried in the depths of night when he hoped no person would hear.
He saw only the man who brought his meals twice a day.
Stepping in the shower cubicle, he twisted the control until the water reached body temperature. Hands braced on the tile, he bent beneath the deluge. Water pounded his head “Oh, Tiff, what have I done?”
He let out a frustrated yell muffled by the jetting water and pounded one fist on the tile. He would lose his mind if kept here much longer.
Closing his eyes, he felt her long, slim fingers slide over his water-slicked back, circle to his chest, roll his nipples. The length of her slippery body lay along his spine, buttocks and thighs. She held to him so tightly, a hair could not come between them. Her hands came together and slid down his belly.
Gasping, fumbling for the faucet, he braced for the shock and turned the water to cold.
Chickenshit, she said in his mind.
I miss you, he told her.
Stra
ightening, Royal began his ablutions as ice-cold water sheeted him. He doubted Orcus would see him now. He had to break out, go to Tiff and tell her the truth. Water blurred his eyes. Where to begin? The first time he saw her and said nothing? Later that evening when he went to her house, and said nothing? When they made love for the first time, and he said nothing? He would be forever damned in her eyes however he couched his words.
Then so be it. As long as she was safe… .
He’d take her to a place where Orcus could not find her. Then … Lawrence. How could he help Lawrence? He needed proof to substantiate what Lawrence had told him in the text.
He turned the water off, stepped from the shower to the cool tile floor and took a large, soft towel from the rack. Drying off took seconds as his warm skin performed most of the job for him. His hair took longer. He used the same method as on Tiff’s hair, smoothing hanks between both hands.
He went into the bedroom for clean clothes. How considerate of Orcus to provide them. He would have left them in the closet, but had worn his clothes for three days and could bear them no longer.
Now, instead of annoying him, he watched the clock, willing the minutes to pass. His meal would arrive soon.
Did Orcus’ men wield arcane powers? He’d discover soon enough.
A soft clunk as a key turned in the lock. His shoulders bunched beneath his shirt.
The young man who entered was tall as Royal but lacked his bulk. A brown robe tied with rope at the waist covered him from neck to ankles. His hands were occupied with a silver tray bearing dishes, silverware and a large glass. He did not seem particularly alert. After all, Royal was the model of decorum, and no person dared attack Orcus’ aides; to do so was tantamount to attacking their master.
Royal rose to meet him with a smile. “Will he see me today?”
The man visibly tensed. “He may find time later, my Lord,” he replied in a low, gruff voice.
Royal nodded pleasantly. “I understand. The burden of his duties weigh heavy upon him. Please tell him I await his pleasure.”
The man relaxed. He took one pace nearer Royal, the tray held out to him.
Royal took the tray in one hand, but seemed to fumble so it tipped. The dishes slid off. Crockery and glass exploded on the floor, food splattered.
Royal acted chagrined. “I’m terribly sorry!”
As the man gawked at the mess in dismay, Royal swung the tray and clipped him on the side of his head. To his surprise, the aide flew across the room, his spine hit the wall and he bounced off, landing in a sprawl on his face.
Baffled, Royal approached the man cautiously, wondering if he faked unconsciousness. He’d hit the man hard, but expected the blow to temporarily incapacitate, not render insensible. Alert, he felt for a pulse, then gently turned him.
He sat back on his heels, stunned to see the young face disfigured by a shattered cheek, ruptured eye and bruised forehead.
Royal hesitated with indecision. He regretted wounding the fellow this severely, but could not linger and forgo this chance to escape.
He sprang to his feet, opened the door and looked along the deserted corridor. He did not sense another person in the complex but that did not surprise him. You could not sense Orcus’ presence or that of an aide as you could a brother or sister Gelpha.
He hurried along the corridor, around the corner and found himself face to face with Orcus.
“Oh, Ryel. What have you done to Joshua?”
Royal refused to fall to his knees. He stood tall, but Orcus was the Burning Man - Royal’s nerves quivered within his flesh. What ghoulish creature hid inside the flames?
“Move aside and I will leave peacefully.”
“Return to your room, Ryel.”
“Why do you hold me captive?”
“I may still need you.”
“For what purpose?” Royal growled.
A laugh came from the flames. “As bait.”
Royal thrust past him. His shoulder hit soft, resilient flesh.
Colored lights flashed behind Royal’s eyelids. Every nerve ending sizzled as if short-circuited. His heartbeat increased, so rapid he could not breathe. He thought his heart was bursting. His muscles became loose and he fell into darkness splintered by stars.
CHAPTER TEN
Mel and Jack stared at me, aghast. Their expressions told me nothing as those never change, but their posture and overall tautness mirrored their distress.
“I thought you should know.”
“In case you don’t come back?” Mel wailed.
I flared my eyes. “Course I’ll be back, dummy.”
Jack’s knuckled hands went to his mouth. Wordless, he gazed at me with a stricken expression, the one he wore as he died. Jack doesn’t silence easily. My roommates were not bolstering my confidence in the upcoming expedition. The opposite, in fact.
Mel shook her fist at me. “I can’t believe you’re going there with that woman, or whatever she is!”
I could say the same. Maybe it was a bad dream and I’d wake in a sweat. Pinch me, someone.
“I know, Mel. But I need her.” I squeezed the bridge of my nose with my fingers. “I’ve got nobody else.”
“You could wait a little longer. Maybe he’ll be back tomorrow,” Jack said. “And where will you be? Off with Morticia Addams.”
“I wish. But I don’t think so, Jack. He’s in trouble. The text on his cell is a clue.”
I heard Royal say, That’s my girl, best detective in the American North West.
I went to the refrigerator for a diet cola and stowed it in my backpack. A bar of milk chocolate went in my back pocket. I like to be prepared.
No sense delaying. I had to take Mac to Janie and get back to Montague Square by nine. I went in the hall and took Mac’s leash off the peg, which brought him trundling to me with a bright look in his brown eyes. He even wagged his tail.
I bent to slip the Martingale collar over his head, straightened up and turned to say bye to my roommates. They were no longer in the kitchen.
They hate good-byes. So do I.
If I was going to be emotional, I should do it in private. I gathered Mac to me, one arm beneath his barrel chest, the other supporting his hind quarters. He struggled a little, then settled into my embrace. Mac is not the cuddly type.
“Mac,” I whispered in his ear. “You know I love you, right?”
He grumbled. I hugged him tighter and buried my nose in his brindle-black fur until he grunted in protest.
I towed him into Janie’s office, the racket from dogs in the kennel overwhelming. Mac stopped at the door, ears perked, deciding whether to be enthusiastic about other dogs in the vicinity or miffed I took him there.
Janie runs a nice facility. Unlike most kennels where the staff go home in the evening and are only there to feed the animals on weekends, Janie lives on the premises. Each dog has a comfortably sized room with an outside run attached, and Janie lets the dogs out in a communal play area for part of the day. She knows which dogs can go in together, and with Mac, that’s important. She could be in trouble if he jumped on some little furry puff of a dog.
Janie is a petite woman in her early forties who wears her birch-brown hair cropped to within an inch of its life and always has a smile in her hazel eyes. I’m so accustomed to seeing her in worn, hair-covered jeans and sweatshirt, I didn’t recognize her the time I saw her at the market wearing a smart two-piece suit. You’d never believe that small, neat body can put a boisterous Rottweiler on its back.
I spotted her in the dog play area so went through the office and out the backdoor. Now came the worse part, at least for me. We went into the kennels, where I had to keep Mac away from the cages and the dogs yapping at him. He balked when we came to his kennel. He saw the open door and knew what happened next.
I had to pick him up, put him inside and quickly close the door. And see my baby with his nose pressed between the bars and a look of betrayal in his eyes.
I squatted and touched his wet
black nose with one finger. “I’ll be back. See you later, Mac.”
I say that each time I leave the house or take him to the kennel. I tell him I’ll return and I always do. So he’d believe me this time, right? God, I hoped so. Leaving him felt worse than leaving Jack and Mel. He couldn’t tell me his thoughts or feelings, but his eyes said it all.
“Okay. Enough. Suck it up, Tiff,” I said to the empty car as I drove along Janie’s drive to Pineview Canyon.
The snow’s brilliance dazzled me so I put my sunglasses back on. The canyon road was clear but for a big black pickup, but it was far enough behind me that I had plenty of time to whip into the right lane and drive west to Clarion.
Sunk in gloom, I left my foot off the accelerator and let the decline take me down. If you know the canyon, when to give your car a little gas on the flats, when to ease off, you can coast down most of it and not have to apply your brakes.
Clint stood behind the wall which follows the Snake River down Pineview. He waved. I waved back. A quarter mile on, I flapped my hand at Dave and Mindy who squatted on an ice-frosted boulder in the middle of the river.
So many dead people in the canyon.
I glanced in the rearview mirror. The hotshot behind me came down fast, too fast. He’d have to wait; I don’t increase my speed for anyone and he couldn’t overtake till we hit the next flat.
Pineview Canyon is beautiful at all times of year. In some places it is wide enough for a dozen or so homes to sit on the riverbank and cluster among the scrub oak farther back. On other stretches, there is barely space for two lanes and the Snake River flowing parallel. It is a riot of color in spring and summer when wild flowers bloom on the gentler slopes below where the rock face soars, and trees stretch their branches from their precarious hold on the vertical gray, white and ocher sides. Tourists come from all over the state to see the fall foliage. Now, with snow on the ground, sparkling along branches, gathered in the irregularities on the canyon walls, it was a winter wonderland.