“That’s comforting.”
“Indeed.”
Polyxia ran her hand along one of the trees and looked up into its branches. She frowned slightly and said: “I am truly sad about what happened to your father. He was loyal and honest. I only met him on one occasion, but I liked him.”
“Thank you.”
They fell into silence again as they walked, Saul in the lead. They came to an area that dipped a bit, giving way to a thin, meandering stream. Saul looked in all directions, hoping to find some sign of the Guard’s passing.
“Can you not sense them anywhere?” he asked Polyxia.
She shook her head, disappointed. “No. It’s much like my inability to teleport myself. The power that we shared among us has been severed. They have cut me off. I’m nothing more than an old witch now.”
“An old witch that still has quite a bit of power,” Saul said, smiling slightly. Magdeline certainly had been surprised.
“That I do.”
“Then let’s find them,” Saul said, “so you can make them regret ever crossing you.”
The old woman smiled.
Saul was happy to see that there was more than just a little malice in that smile.
3
Kara pulled her patrol car off onto the side of the road and slammed it into Park. She was irritated and knew that it was showing. She rarely lost her cool but she felt herself slipping closer and closer towards an anger that she didn’t think she’d be able to get a grip on. She did her best to keep calm; she sensed that the other members of the Marked were looking to her for some sort of guidance and it wouldn’t do any good for her to lose her patience.
Before she stepped out of the car, Kara took a deep breath, looking out towards the forest. The car was silent and she was thankful when Penny opened the passenger door and stepped out. Any sort of movement or noise was welcome. It helped alleviate the tension within the car.
When Kara finally stepped out, she joined the rest of her group at the car's hood. She noticed that Penny and Ray were staying close together. Kara didn’t know if there was some sort of thing between them, but they had certainly been acting as if they had a vested interest in one another for the last day or so.
“Any idea where we’re going?” Paul asked.
“Or, for that matter, what we’re doing?” Penny added.
“Well, I started thinking,” Kara said, “and it came to me just before we went to Saul’s cabin.” She said Saul with a bit of an edge, as she was still quite pissed off at his reaction to her – extremely logical, given the circumstances! – request.
“What is it?” Ray asked.
“Well, if Red Creek really is as special as we’re being led to believe, I asked myself if there were any true landmarks within the town that might hold a certain degree of power that would attract the Guard.”
“Are there?” Ray asked. “I certainly wouldn’t think so.”
“Well, you’ve got to think in terms of the weird,” Kara said. “And because I had the duty of serving on the police force, I got to know a lot about the lay of the land. There are stories I heard that I never paid much attention to—stories that I thought were nothing but ghost tales. And I started to wonder if—”
“Oh my God,” Penny said, slightly incredulous. “You’re not seriously thinking about the Old Wright Barn are you?”
“I am.”
Ray and Paul both looked towards the woods. As locals, all of them knew about the Old Wright Barn and the local folklore that went along with it. It was a structure that would have been familiar to Nikki and Jill, had they been there to take part in the conversation. They had read much about its history during their time in the library before the Guard had interrupted.
“But that’s just an old spooky story,” Paul said. “People have been telling ghost stories about that place ever since I was a kid.”
“Well, the stories had to start somewhere, right?” Ray asked.
“I know for a fact that the stories about the imprisonment and burning of women who may or may not have been witches are true,” Kara said. “There are some very brief and hastily put together reports on that at the station. And the library. They’re sort of historical relics. But Old Wright Barn had a pretty bizarre history before that.”
“Like what?” Ray asked.
“Just weird stuff,” Kara said. “People getting sick, disoriented, and things like that. Basic haunting sort of accounts. Every small town has them. And these stories go pretty far back.”
“Please forgive me for saying so,” Penny said. “But this is starting to seem silly.”
“I agree,” Paul said. “But then I think about the fact that we’ve been fighting fucking vampires for the last few days and nothing seems to be out of the question.”
That comment left them all at a loss for words. They stood there in silence, looking out at the woods.
“The Guard are not vampires,” Kara said. “We aren’t going to be able to kill them by staking them through the heart. Well—we might be able to, but I’m hoping there are easier ways.”
“Like?” Ray asked.
Kara went to her trunk and unlocked it. The rest of the Marked huddled around her and saw that she had brought along four guns. They were all very basic side arms, taken from the Red Creek PD. There was also a shotgun that Kara divvied out to Paul. He seemed like the type of man who had spent time on hunting expeditions in the Red Creek woods.
“Everyone know how to use these?” Kara asked.
“I know how,” Penny said. “But it’s been at least twenty years since I fired one.”
“Guns haven’t changed much in the last twenty years,” Kara said. “You just aim and pull the trigger.”
Everyone snickered nervously at this as they turned back to the woods. They were completely silent as Kara took the lead and led them out into the forest.
Kara stepped quietly through the foliage, knowing that the Old Wright Barn was roughly a mile away from their current location. She was truly hoping that her hunch was wrong. She would love nothing better than to get to the Old Wright Barn and find it just as empty as ever, with nothing to offer them but its grisly history.
But there was something in the air—something not too unlike electricity—that made Kara think she was right. As a cop, she had long ago learned to trust her gut instincts. This terrified her to no end because as she led the Marked deeper and deeper into the forest, her gut was telling her that there was some very severe trouble ahead.
4
Gestalt sat in the living room of the wrecked Benton cabin and watched Nikki sleep. He looked at her adoringly—not unlike how a scientist might look at a particularly perplexing equation to be solved. He could tell that she was recuperating, thanks to the work Polyxia had done. Still, she looked weak and powerless.
Nikki’s state was not what had Gestalt so transfixed. Instead, he was wondering how this woman, in her mortal form, had managed to so powerfully ensnare a supernatural entity like Saul Benton. Gestalt didn’t know Nikki well enough to make presumptions: all he knew was that she was pretty in a very plain yet distinctive way and that she was one hell of a fighter.
Gestalt thought about love as he looked at Nikki. He wondered what the relationship between Nikki and Saul must be like; what it was like to have an unblemished connection that altered the way you thought about someone and the lengths you would go to in order to protect them.
Gestalt also began to wonder, for the first time in his life, if there was in fact some form of a higher power—higher than The Guard or the council that oversaw them—that orchestrated things in some invisible realm that no one else could manipulate. How else would lovers as well-suited as Nikki and Saul have met? How else could Gestalt explain randomly selecting Paula as one of his Rogues—as the Rogue he had elected to serve him as a slave—and then find himself developing an emotional attachment to her that he had never felt in his life?
It was these questions that had ultimately made Gestal
t decide to help Saul Benton against the Guard. And while he would much rather be out fighting those bastards, he was also more than happy to help keep Saul’s apparent soul mate safe.
Gestalt looked away from Nikki and to the bedroom door along the back of the hall. Paula was sleeping there, the first real rest she’d had in about three days.
Gestalt was suddenly struck with a paralyzing thought – a realization that made him horribly, unbearably sad.
He had turned Paula to be his slave—to be devoted to him with the reckless abandon. Because of that, he would never be able to experience being with her, not in any way that counted. The time she spent with him, the things she did for him would always be because she had to, not because she truly wanted to be near him.
Gestalt wondered if the emotion he was currently feeling was what people called “self-hatred.”
Looking back at Nikki once more, Gestalt stood up and walked to her. He placed his hand on her head, found that she was considerably cooler than she had been when Saul and Polyxia had left, and then removed his hand.
Gestalt looked down the hall, then – mind made –walked toward the bedroom. He opened the door quietly and looked in on Paula. She was sleeping in the nude, the sheets covering everything from her thighs down. She stirred as the door opened but remained asleep.
Gestalt went to the bed and lay down with her. Still fully dressed, he placed himself at her back. He wrapped an arm around her, resting it just beneath her breasts. She settled into him and arched against his body.
“Is everything okay?” she asked sleepily.
“Yes,” he said. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep, my dear.”
Paula made a sleepy noise and then turned to face him. She wrapped an arm over him and clung tightly to him. Gestalt tried to imagine it was an embrace of yearning and, just maybe, love. But he could tell that it was nothing more than obligation.
“Paula?” he said.
“Yes?”
“Kiss me.”
Gestalt knew Paula had to obey and that she would allow him to set the pace. She opened her eyes and looked at him, a bit confused. But in the end she was happy to serve, leaning in and meeting his mouth with her own.
Gestalt kissed her softly, savoring her lips. When their mouths opened against one another and he found her tongue overlapping his, he pulled her closer. He felt her naked breasts pushing against his shirt, her nipples hardening against the fabric that rested between them.
Gestalt was getting hard but made himself wait. He wanted something more this time, to maybe feel whatever it was that Saul and Nikki shared – even if it was but a shallow mimicry. He held Paula tightly, kissing her and enjoying the feel of her body against his without the force and power that he usually used.
After several minutes of slow and lingering kisses, Gestalt began to let his fingers explore Paula’s body. He did not grope and demand as he usually did; instead, he ran his fingers along the curve of her neck, across her collarbones and along her breasts. As he did, he felt her tense up against him and it was the first time he had ever felt her body respond in such a way.
It was a response that spoke of want—of a need to have him.
As Gestalt's hands continued to survey her, Paula's hands began to do the same. She grazed his bicep and then traveled up to his shoulder where she began to gingerly pull at the neck of his shirt. He angled himself up and let her remove it. When it was over his head, he met her eyes and did not look away. She ran her hand over his chest and his own hands found her hips. When he rested a hand there and softly pulled her forward, she moaned and arched into him.
Their mouths met again, the kisses harder and more passionate this time. Gestalt savored each moment, trying to extend it as long as he could. But when Paula’s hand began to trace the waistline of his pants and cupped his manhood through the denim, he pulled her on top of him. She let out a gasp and instantly began to writhe, still kissing him and trailing her hands along his body. Her hair was in his face and their breaths were intermingling in a wave of heat. Gestalt felt his heart surging and he began to feel like he was no longer in control of himself. He was dimly aware that Paula was unbuttoning his pants. As they came undone, he felt her breasts pressing against his abdomen and then felt her breath on his navel. He knew where she was going and what she was intending to do, but he reached down and stopped her just as he felt her breath on him.
“No,” he said.
She looked at him, disappointed and confused. The look on her face was similar to an obedient dog that had just been corrected by its master.
“What is it?” she asked. “What do you want?”
He grinned at her and then gently rolled over so that he was on top of her and she was planted firmly on the bed under his weight.
“You,” he said.
He kissed her face, her jaw, her neck. He ran his tongue along the area on her back where he had bit into her several nights ago, wishing he could take it back. He cupped her breast and felt her tilt her pelvis towards him. He moved his free hand from her breast to the slight thatch of hair between her legs where he simply rested his hand and applied the briefest amount of pressure against her. Paula let out a moan. He responded by placing his pointer and middle fingers slowly inside of her. She bucked against him and shuddered.
“Please,” she said.
At that point, Gestalt could take no more. He withdrew his fingers and positioned himself on top of her. She still looked confused but, to his delight, also seemed to be genuinely enjoying what was happening. She looked like she was going crazy as she waited for him to slip inside of her.
Slowly, and as gently as he could manage, Gestalt gave her what she wanted. She gasped and threw her arms around him. He drew back and thrust again, over and over, with the same slow speed. Once he found a rhythm that they both liked, still slow and painstakingly timid, he lowered himself to her and kissed her again.
Gestalt had never had a woman like this. He’d never wanted a woman for anything other than the last few seconds of the act. But now, with Paula, he understood what he had been missing. Every nerve in his body seemed to be on fire. He could only imagine what this experience might be like if Paula had been a willing participant.
Paula rocked against him, lifting her rear in the air as if to urge him on. But Gestalt remained slow and steady, loving every torturous moment of it. Finally, she understood what he wanted and relented, letting the slow pace wind her closer and closer toward completion.
When Gestalt reached the point of no return, he gave one final hard thrust. Paula screamed in ecstasy, her cry cut short by his mouth. They kissed passionately, both finding their completion in the other.
When it was done, Gestalt slid off of Paula to lie beside her. He looked into her eyes, enjoying the look of satisfaction on her face.
“How do you feel?” he asked, not understanding the absurdity of the question until it was out of his mouth.
“Good,” Paula said. She was slightly out of breath, her legs still trembling a bit. “I am yours.”
It was spoken with the emotion of a robot. He nodded, disappointed. He drew her close and breathed her in.
At some point, spent and unusually content, Gestalt fell asleep.
5
Jill was no longer able to distract herself with pristine images of making love to a perfect man on some imagined beach. The sense of danger was too great now. She was more aware of her pain and her fear, the heavy emotions pushing anything else her brain could conjure far to the darkest corners of her mind.
Jill sensed that the Guard had put up some sort of block; she was unable to reach Saul, no matter how she strained her mind. The fear had done well enough in clearing her thoughts, however, and Jill found herself able to escape the daze that had followed her capture and think rationally.
First and foremost, Jill sensed the power contained in the place to which the Guard had brought her. She was pretty sure it was a barn, and the more she thought about that, she b
ecame oddly certain that she was being kept in the Old Wright Barn—the barn she and Nikki had read about in the library. Perhaps there was some sort of magic in this location after all. But there was little joy in this revelation. If there was magic here, the Guard had already manipulated it and were even now using it to their advantage.
Jill felt confident that Saul would find her. Her only concern was that he might not be able to do much when he arrived. She tried one last time to reach out to him through the mental link they shared, but she found it just as dead as it had been ever since the Guard had entered the picture.
Jill glanced around the barn, barely opening her eyes. Benali and Dominiscus were seated in a far corner of the barn, discussing something. Aimon, Moorcheh and Magdeline were nowhere to be found. She imagined that they were likely outside, keeping an eye out for Saul.
That’s when Jill picked up a scent. It was a recognizable one that came to her very weakly through her pain and fear. While the Guard may have blocked her link to Saul, they hadn’t taken away her abilities.
Jill smelled humans approaching. Their scents were familiar, as she had spent the last two days with them, killing Rogues. Kara and the Marked were on their way. If Saul was with them, Jill couldn’t tell. She couldn’t pick up his scent.
She thought about calling out to them, to warn them. She knew Kara was one hell of a fighter, but there was no way that four mortals would be able to stand a chance against the Guard—even if it was the fabled Marked fighting against the Guard in their mortal forms.
But Jill thought it best to remain quiet. Maybe the Guard hadn’t sensed them yet. She wasn’t sure how becoming mortal affected their powers. Maybe they hadn’t figured out that Kara and the Marked were close. And if the Marked came in with the element of surprise then maybe they would stand a chance. It was a long shot, but anything was possible.
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