Captive Moon

by C. T. Adams

  But he hadn’t considered the consequences on his vision. He saw the image in front of his eyes fast forward and knew that it was the future rather than the present. But he was also transported inside the torchlit chamber. Like in an earlier vision, Tahira was naked and bound to a massive boulder by silver manacles with spiked chains driven far into the stone. She struggled violently against the shackles as the small spider-shifter read from a book with a leather cover dyed a whitish-green that reminded him of mold.

  The words she spoke were in a tongue so ancient that they weren’t quite language. He heard hissing and snarling in the background and looked up. For the first time, he could move about in the vision, doing what Tahira had suggested. Giselle was also chained down, but had been blindfolded and had a silver collar chain in addition to the wrist and ankle bindings. He reached out to touch her, but his hand slipped through her like a hologram.

  A tall, olive-skinned man was behind bars, as well as in chains. His features matched Tahira’s, and looking carefully, Antoine could just see a single emerald stud in his ear underneath the unkempt hair. He was screaming and pulling at the shackles, staring frantically at Tahira. His eyes were wet, and his expression was enough to tear at Antoine’s stomach, but no sound was coming out of the man’s mouth.

  There was still time—he could feel it. He could still save her if he hurried. He tucked the case back in the stone and pushed it back into the wall until it was flush with the others. After he replaced the painting, he considered whether he should check to see if there were any more useful items on this floor, but Matty’s voice stopped him at the doorway.

  “You’d better say something up there, mate, or I’m coming up! Babette’s looking at Ahmad really strangely, and I don’t know if it’s good or bad.”

  Merde! That wasn’t a good sign. Babette was always the first one to know when there were problems with the other cats. He took a deep breath and ran down the stairs, intentionally staring at the front door and not looking at his feet. When he reached the ground level, Matty stared at him in shock.

  “Fuckin’ oath, Antoine! What in the hell sort of witches’ brew did you find? All of those burns—they’re just gone!”

  Antoine looked down and realized Matty was right. The burns had faded to long lines of new skin, pink and shiny. “Let’s see if we can put Ahmad back on his feet, too.”

  They hurried inside the library. Matty had been correct that Babette was standing over Ahmad, nudging him with her nose. He pressed his mind into hers and she looked up and snarled in greeting and then bounded to stand by the fireplace. Antoine took her place. Ahmad was worse by far in the last few minutes. His eyes were nearly glazed, but there was recognition deep inside them. It was quite possible that even the Rabbet wouldn’t be enough, but it was worth a try.

  “Ahmad, can you hear me? Can you swallow at all?”

  He saw the man’s tongue press against the roof of his open mouth as he tried to get his throat muscles to respond. Finally, after several agonizing moments, he managed to swallow and relaxed back in relief that closed his eyes and flooded his scent enough to cover the bitter scent of the venom.

  Antoine held the vial so Ahmad could see it. Distrust rose to the surface and if Ahmad could have frowned, he would have. Antoine asked, “Have you ever had a Rabbet? I know you’ve read the report on how it works.” He turned the tube so Ahmad could see the lettering in Fiona’s strange blend of calligraphy and cursive. “You might recover from this on your own, but you might not. I’ll leave that choice up to you because I have no idea what the Rabbet will do to the venom. It might well kill you quicker.”

  Ahmad’s eyes went steely with determination and he nodded, but just barely. But his scent was clear. The hot metal scent of determination was enough to make Antoine slip an arm under his neck to raise him up enough so he didn’t choke. He flicked the vial lid off with his thumb and opened Ahmad’s mouth a bit wider. “I’ll try to make sure that you don’t hurt yourself while it’s taking effect.”

  The were-cobra took a deep breath and blinked his eyes. While it would be easier to pour it down slowly so that he didn’t have to work at getting it all down, the taste was likely to make him gag, and his throat might seize. “Bottom’s up!” he said with false humor and poured the entire contents directly down Ahmad’s throat.

  The reaction was much as Antoine had expected. Ahmad tried to gag, and Antoine massaged his throat to get him to swallow it all into his system. He ignored the scene still playing out, ghosted in front of him, concentrating instead on physical sensations to keep him grounded.

  Placing Ahmad back down on the floor, Antoine used brute strength to keep him steady as his body began to speed up. It was like riding an insane bucking bronco or a rabid bull. Foam flecked on his mouth and every drop that touched Antoine burned and instantly scarred his skin, making him wince. Ahmad’s muscles soon began to convulse as his system tried to rid itself of the poison. As he strained his muscles enough to hurt, Antoine finally resorted to using magic energy to help hold the cobra to the floor. He could see Matty pacing in the background, his eyes wide and panicked. But he didn’t offer to help, knowing that he might wind up with broken ribs or worse.

  Babette wasn’t worried in the least, and it almost made him smile. She had flopped down by the fireplace and her cubs were happily nursing while she cleaned herself with long strokes of her tongue. Her Rex was wrestling with a rabid cobra against the wall, and that was just fine.

  It took a few moments for him to realize that Ahmad had stopped struggling. He leaned back tentatively, taking some of his weight from the lightly twitching arms, just as he heard the snake’s hoarse but clear voice.

  “That was an experience I should not like to ever repeat. You can let me up now. I think I can stand.”

  Matty let out a low whistle. “Holy dooley! That drug is bloody is amazing! Could it help Margo heal?”

  Antoine shook his head as he moved back, giving Ahmad room to stand. “No,” he told Matty strongly. “This would kill a human. It would probably kill an ordinary Sazi. Only alphas are allowed near this stuff.” He put a light note of teasing in his voice and said to Ahmad, “Aren’t you glad now that you voted to approve funding the research on Rabbet?”

  Ahmad’s hand, bearing a large gold and ruby ring, appeared on the back of the chair, and muscles strained as he pulled himself to his feet. He continued to lean heavily on the leather upholstery as he spoke. “I can’t imagine ever being tired enough to consider it worth the price to use this on a mission. But for healing purposes, it’s an excellent product. I presume that I’ll wind up with a massive headache tomorrow?”

  “Or worse. But you’ll recover. Now, I have to start finding weapons to go and save my people. Obviously, you should probably stay here until—”

  Ahmad took a tentative step and found his legs would bear his weight. He stood up and took another step, forcing his spine straight. His face was cold, and fury blended with determination in his scent. “Oh, no. I fully intend to go along with you. My most trusted guards have defected and tried to kill me. I want to know who managed to secure their loyalty, and then I want to see all of their heads rolling on the ground, loose of their bodies.”

  “What you didn’t bother to find out, Ahmad, is that our foe is another spider. I scented it when it tried to capture Tahira, and touched it within a vision. I’m still having a vision, probably because of the Rabbet. I can see all of the people taken, superimposed over this room. Presently, you’re standing inside a stalagmite. It’s really quite an interesting image.”

  Ahmad staggered a bit as he realized what Antoine was implying, but remained standing despite the shock on his face and in his scent. “I find it difficult to believe that my snakes would work for a spider. I thought at least that would be beneath them. But unless we have more than one enemy—which is a possibility to consider—then I’m forced to accept it. Therefore, we need weapons. We’re in a castle belonging to an ancient swordsman. Surely Char
les has suitable weapons somewhere about?”

  “The broadswords over the mantel were purchased in Chicago. Apparently, Charles thought we might need them and brought them here. They’re quite sharp.”

  “Yes,” Ahmad said, nodding. “I remember you purchased them yourself and had them sharpened. We didn’t need them then; it is almost fate that we have them now, when we do. I’ve spent many years behind a blade, but would feel better if I were stronger. I presume that by the time we arrive…wherever we’re going, the Rabbet will have me back at full strength?”

  “It should, but I make no promises.”

  Matty held up his hand behind Ahmad. “I’d like to go along if you think you need a strong arm.”

  Ahmad shook his head, surprising Antoine with the response. “No, you need to stay here and watch over the woman while she’s unconscious. The tiger will eventually need food, and it might not be wise to leave that particular combination in the house if we don’t return. It would also be best to keep someone here at the house for when Raven arrives. Once again, if we don’t return—”

  Matty nodded with quick little movements that made Antoine know that he had truly grasped the situation. “Yeah, I see your point. In fact, I should get downstairs and get something warming for her for dinner, before she considers me on the menu.”

  Ahmad looked at Antoine and raised his brows as Matty darted past them to go down the back stairs. “And now, I need to go upstairs and dress for the weather. It might take a few minutes. Afterward, how would you suggest we proceed?”

  “Afterward,” said Antoine with fire in his voice and a cold smile on his face, “we go to war.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  NASIL WAS OUT of breath as he approached Sargon, who was reclining almost lazily against the pillows in the main chamber. “Dr. Portes is nearly ready to begin. Taking the other cat from the house was very useful.”

  Sargon watched him carefully, and he couldn’t decide what his scent was. “Yes, it was a successful operation. I wondered if you would agree with my decision.”

  He bowed low. “I’m pleased you value my opinion, but your word is law. My agreement or disagreement does not change that. But I am concerned that we’ve not heard from the sleepers that they’re on their way with the girl.”

  The dark face showed the first sign of annoyance. “No, we have not. Loyalty that can be bought can be outbid as well. Unlike you, they have not proven their loyalty in a very long time.”

  “I’m pleased you were satisfied with my effort. I have to admit that I hadn’t had a sufficient challenge in some time. The fools in the police station had no clue that anyone had even been in the jail.”

  “Where on the body did you bite him? Will they discover it quickly?”

  Nasil chuckled. “I doubt they will discover it at all. I bit him in one of the healing wounds from his battle with the girl the other night. Then I used power to heal over the wound without affecting the poison. They’ll discover the venom but have no idea where it originated.”

  Sargon graced him with a rare smile of warmth. “It’s quite remarkable what you can do when you put your mind to it, Nasil. I hope you’ll be as expedient on the prisoners in the other room after their power has been taken. While I do enjoy the sound of screams, I find whimpering distasteful, and that seems to be common lately.”

  “Was Zuberi reduced to whimpering? I haven’t seen him since your last chase.”

  Sargon sighed and readjusted himself on the pillow. “Sadly, I wounded his throat too much for him to be good prey afterward. I believe he drowned in his own blood shortly after the first strike.”

  Dr. Portes walked in the room wearing a sleek black spandex outfit that hugged every curve. She dropped to her knees in front of Sargon’s legs and then bit the finger he used to touch her lips, causing him to inhale sharply and then smile as the tiny wound started to swell.

  “My lord, all is in readiness,” she trilled in fear. “We only wait for the girl to complete the ritual. I believe she is truly the one. I felt her depth as we touched, and I’m sorry I was not able to bring her from the city.”

  Nasil’s voice was steady, but there was more than a bit of satisfaction in watching her squirm. “I’m sorry that you didn’t deign to inform me of your plan. I was already in town and could have assisted.”

  Sargon’s eyes were beginning to bleed as red fire caught the light. “He is correct, Rachel. With Nasil’s assistance, we would not have been forced to expose our hand by attacking the others at the house. The old cat will be useful, but I’m not confident that our sleepers are powerful enough to overcome the Monier cub. You’re fortunate that you’re the only one capable of reading the old text to perform the ritual, but that good fortune will end rather abruptly if we have no power well to perform the ritual with.”

  She looked up at him and widened her eyes, then brushed her chest slowly along his leg sensuously. “I’m certain that you can think of some way that I may make amends for my failure, my lord.”

  “If the ritual goes well and I gain the power I seek, you will be forgiven. I will probably even gift you with the lesser beings we captured for our shared entertainment. But if the power well is lost, then you will be the entertainment. I can assure you that you haven’t seen my full abilities in our games.”

  Nasil felt his heart beat just a bit faster but quashed any emotion in reaction to the image that popped into his mind. “My lord, shall I go outside and find the sleepers and the girl? It might be that the trail we used earlier has become impassible in the snow. They’re barely alphas, so the cold could also affect them.”

  Sargon sighed deeply and then nodded. “That would be best, Nasil. If you discover that the girl has escaped again, then make certain that everybody in the house is eliminated. We will have to continue our search if we fail here, and that would be easier without being tracked.”

  He held out his other hand and Nasil dropped to his knees beside Dr. Portes and kissed the cool, bitter skin fervently before speaking. “Your will be done, my lord.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “AHMAD! ARE YOU nearly ready?” Antoine knocked once again on the locked door to his room, watching the torchlight from the vision flicker on the wood. He was growing more accustomed to the dual images, but movement in either reality was still disconcerting. “If you don’t open this soon, I’ll have to break it down to see if you’re dead.”

  He heard a small thump behind the wood that concerned him, but moments later the door opened. A chilly blast from the window hit him square in the face and made him shiver. “What in the world are you doing in here?”

  Ahmad still seemed to be breathing a bit heavily, and Antoine could hear his heart racing from the Rabbet. “There’s such a thing as being too warm, which is a concept I’d never imagined. Unfortunately, this drug has sped up my metabolism to the point that I’m actually flushed for the first time in my life. When winter wind feels good to a snake, especially an alpha of my caliber, it’s time to consider a different formula for our agents.”

  He pulled on a heavy woolen coat and then nearly stripped it off again in frustration. He blew out a blast of hot air that smelled heavily of creosote and the Rabbet drug. After a moment, he stood next to the window and closed his eyes to the icy breeze as sweat painted his brow.

  “You don’t have to go, you know. You’re looking a bit pale.” Antoine was growing concerned. The drug had made him feel nearly at his peak of strength, but what would happen if Ahmad couldn’t carry his own weight in a battle?

  By the time Ahmad turned to him, his voice had dropped into snide tones. “I didn’t ask for your opinion of my condition. If you’ll hand me my weapon, we’ll be off. Once I’m outside, this miserable layer of clothing will be acceptable.”

  Matty met them at the bottom of the stairs and put a hand solidly on Antoine’s shoulder while Ahmad easily sliced the nearly five-foot sword through the air with one hand. The resulting whistle pleased him. He pursed his lips and nodde
d with the slightest scent of approval as a nearly transparent sliver of skin was carved from the surface of his thumb when he slowly ran it across the sharpened edge.

  “I’m sorry I can’t go with you, mate,” Matty said with mingled relief and annoyance. “But I’ll save a slab to share when you get back.”

  Antoine chuckled darkly. “If we make it back, I think I’ll want something stronger than beer. Rare or not, I think that the cognac might be opened.”

  Ahmad was at the door, holding it open behind him. His voice was nearly back to its arrogant best. “If you’re quite done with your camaraderie and male bonding, I’d like to leave. I want this sword bloodied before dawn.”

  The tracks were easy to follow. Tahira’s limp body had forced the men to walk instead of taking to the treetops. That meant they were to deliver her in good condition, which was useful knowledge. Antoine pointed toward the mountain. “We go that way.”

  Ahmad stopped and gave him a look of condescension. “The tracks go in the opposite direction, Antoine.”

  He started toward the distant hill, speaking over his shoulder. “And my vision says that this is the way. Maybe the tracks double back or disappear again to lead us off course while they complete the ritual.”

  “What ritual?” Ahmad’s voice was curious now. The wind was too strong in their faces to get any scent from him.

  “In my vision, I saw Tahira and the others chained down with the same silver that tied me. The spider is reading from a book in a sing-song way and power begins to flow into Tahira like water.”