by Unknown
“Her name was Perse Cean,” he told her. “She was half Saurian and half something even more bizarre.”
Shanee had only met one Saurian and she had been uncomfortable with the reptilian warrior. With his black, elliptical eyes, hairless face covered in thick, shiny scales, broad and fleshy tongue that was four times the length of a normal humanoid’s and long, spatula-like fingers, the Saurian was the ugliest creature she’d ever seen. When he spoke with a hissing sound, she nearly gagged seeing the pebbly warts and double rows of sharp, spiky teeth inside his mouth.
“I overheard her and the three assistants who came to R-9 with her discussing their homeworld. From what they said it is where Raphian is worshiped as the primary god.”
Shanee frowned. “Where is that?”
“A place far beyond Esvaria in the Diamhair Galaxy,” he replied. “She called it Chiaroscuro but I’ve studied every star map I could get my hands on since I came to Theristes and I can’t find it listed anywhere.”
“Tariq has star maps here?” she asked.
“The Burgon gave him an entire library of information. He said he never again wanted Tariq and his people not to know where they were in relation to others in the megaverse.”
“Makes sense,” Shanee said.
“It had been Bakari’s predecessor who brought Cean,” he continued. “The gods only know where he found her but she was the one who did the first Transference.”
She remembered what Tariq had told her…
“The only explanation I can give you for what happened on R-9 is that Raphian was involved. He influenced the Alliance to create the hell that was Riezell-Nine.”
“Were you among the first ones they did that to?” she asked.
He ran a hand through his hair and she was glad to see he was no longer shaking.
“When they brought me in—more dead than alive—they threw me in a holding tank with eight other men. All of us had been severely wounded and none of us were expected to live. There was one among us who took it upon himself to make sure we knew who each of us was. He said we shouldn’t die alone without having friends to mourn us. His name was Creighton and he and I swam against one another in a couple of meets. Marcus and Damian were about the same age as me—twenty-four, twenty-five. You’ve met them, haven’t you?” At her nod, he continued. “Three others were older by a score of years and the remaining three were in their mid to late thirties. When Cean and her assistants came to take a look at us, she pointed to the three older ones and they were taken out first. The next day they came back for the next three and then finally the day after that for Marcus, Damian and then me.” He took a deep breath then released it slowly. “I was the ninth to receive a parasite.”
There was no need for him to tell her about that again but there was something he was holding back, something that bothered him so deeply his eyes were filled with tears. She broke down and laid her hand on his thigh.
“Tell me,” she said gently.
“It was her hands,” he said. “Her hands were ice cold and even through the latex gloves I could feel that chill and the roughness of those gods-awful scales.” He shuddered and a solitary tear slid down his left cheek. “She would put those terrible hands on me, Shanee. She would drain me and there wasn’t anything I could do about it because I was shackled to the exam table with my legs pulled wide.” More tears fell down his cheeks. “She would flick that long, forked tongue over me and I would scream until I was hoarse but she never stopped until I ejaculated.” He buried his face in his hands. “The gods help me but I couldn’t hold it.”
She scooted closer to him and put her arms around him. “It’s over with, ehemann,” she said. “That won’t ever happen to you again. Don’t think about her impaling herself on you. Think about…”
“She didn’t slither her warty cunt on me, Shanee,” he denied, looking at her. “Oh god, I would have died if she’d touched me like that! She masturbated me. I would lie there and come and one of her assistants would harvest the sperm.”
That seemed worse to Shanee but she tried not to let her revulsion show. She stroked his back and crooned to him, feeling his tears falling on her thigh as she held his head to her shoulder.
“It is over, Ailyn,” she said. “Let it go.”
“I wish I could but I dream about Cean and those three bastards she called the Ceannus. One of the males was the most savage, cruel being you could ever imagine. His name was Lexis Acklard and he really liked to hurt me. He stank like a nest of vipers—he had that odor about him. He would scrape his hands over me and those scales would rip open my skin. When the nightmares come, it’s as though I can feel the scales dragging over me again, cutting me.”
She wanted to get his mind off such things. “Where did Cean and her assistants go when that portion of R-9 was shutdown?”
He drew in a hitching breath. “When Bakari became Burgon and ordered the Transferences to stop, the scientists received word that he was sending in an inspection team to make sure the Reapers were being cared for. We had all been in isolation cells all along but Tariq had been able to keep in contact with all except three of us—the first three men Cean took from our holding cell.”
“The older men.”
“Aye,” he said, and straightened up, moving away from her touch. “Malachi was the youngest of them then Klaus. The oldest was Jules.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember last names or where the others were from but Jules was from Serenia.”
“What happened to them?”
“She had reserved a special place in hell for those men,” he said. “She had used them for an entirely different set of experiments than just the Transference of the parasites. She knew once he found out what she’d done, Bakari would charge her with crimes against humanity and so she and her Ceannus just vanished along with Malachi and Klaus. They had gone into Jules’ cell to retrieve him too but he was in such bad shape they didn’t want to bother with him. To cover up what they’d been doing to him, they doused him with an accelerant and set fire to him, hoping to destroy the evidence of their evil.”
“Oh my god, did he die?”
Ailyn shook his head. “No, he survived. His queen healed him of the burns.” He let out a ragged breath. “He’s here on Theristes but he keeps well away from the villagers, never allowing them to see him. He is…” He wiped a hand over his face. “Before Cean got her hands on him, he was a nice-looking man. Now? Now, he is not a pleasant sight.”
“Oh Ailyn. What did she do to him?”
“It would be easier to tell you what she didn’t do to him,” Ailyn said. “At some point, she broke every bone in his body. She tortured that man in ways you couldn’t begin to imagine. The most revolting thing was to somehow mesh a portion of her DNA with his, mutating his body and changing the complete physical structure. The results are horrifying. She performed her hideous experiments on him before she gave him a parasite else the queen would not have allowed his body to change as it did.”
“And she got away with it,” she said, shaking her head.
“No one knows where she went but Bakari put a five million cúirs bounty out on her. With the gods’ help, maybe one day she’ll be brought to justice.” He shrugged. “Wherever she is, I don’t even think Morrigunia can touch her. The Burgon told us he won’t bother charging her with her crimes if she’s ever found. He will simply burn her alive as she did Jules.”
He fell silent and finally lay back down, putting his hands over his face. She could tell he was exhausted and got up to blow out the candle again. Returning to the bed, she held her arms out.
“Come here, ehemann,” she said. “Let your lady hold you.”
Ailyn turned over so his head rested on her breast. His right arm went over her waist, his right leg over her thigh. He went to sleep with her arms around him.
The next morning, they made the trek back over the mountain to Ailyn’s cave. They had another week and some odd days before the LRC would return for Shanee and they wanted to
spend it alone together. It was on the third night they were home that Shanee woke and could not get back to sleep. She tossed and turned then finally got up from their pallet, not wanting to wake Ailyn for since his confession to her about Cean and her assistants, he had been sleeping soundly all through the night.
Brewing herself a cup of tea, she took the mug and walked outside the cave and to the banks of the stream. She sat down on a rock, stretched out her long legs and took a sip of the piping hot beverage. There was a full moon overhead and the water was like a silver ribbon as it flowed past the place where she sat.
It was the sudden cessation of the chirping and clicking of insects that caught her immediate attention. The night air was perfectly still, not a leaf rustling on the trees. Turning her head slowly to the left, she was surprised to see a crouched figure passing furtively through the stand of trees. She watched it move with quiet stealth toward the cave’s entrance, completely unaware of her presence there at the stream.
As cautiously as she could, she set the cup of tea down and stood. She mentally cursed herself for she’d brought no weapon with her. The threat that was moving toward the cave entrance both angered and alarmed her. Her mate was inside and sleeping, unaware danger was lurking nearby.
Moving just as carefully and silently, she followed, her hands doubled into fists at her side, her naked body tense and primed for a fight. If her ancestors could fight unclothed and unarmed, she thought, so could she.
She stopped when the figure stopped. Holding her breath, she stood perfectly still as the one she’d been following slowly turned and looked straight at her. She didn’t think she could be seen for she was hidden beneath the spreading branches of an orange tree. For the longest time there was no movement from either the dark figure or Shanee. There was no sound. Finally, the one at the entrance to the cave seemed to be content there was no danger and turned around, sweeping aside the hanging curtain of vines that hung over the cave entrance. As the vines parted, moonlight glinted off something in the figure’s hand and Shanee’s heart accelerated. She lunged forward, intent on tackling whoever or whatever was trying to gain access to her home and Ailyn.
Startled by the sudden rush of sound behind it, the figure sprang aside and started to dart back into the lush foliage to the side of the cave, dropping whatever it had been holding. It turned back, bent down to scoop up what it had dropped and it was at that moment that it came face-to-face with Ailyn Harmattan’s bride.
Shanee was running so hard she nearly slammed face first into the cave. Her hands slapped against the rock but years of military training pivoted her around, expecting the figure to attack her. It was only a few feet away from her—its face fully lit by the moonlight—and what she saw made the Amazeen cry out in shock.
Time stood still as Shanee stared with wide eyes and opened mouth at the nightmarish form. Her heart seemed to have ceased beating and for the first time in her life knew what true fear was. She nearly fainted when she felt strong hands on her shoulders—tightening almost painfully—and dragging her back against a rock-hard body. She would have screamed had not Ailyn’s soft voice shushed her.
“Good eve, Jules,” she heard her husband say.
The deformed man half hidden in the thick bushes moved backward another step and made a grunting noise as he straightened out of his crouch. He was clutching something metallic against his broad chest.
“My lady-wife was intent on protecting me,” Ailyn said. “She is an Amazeen.”
Shanee could not take her eyes from the monstrosity facing her. Over seven feet in height with very muscular arms and legs, he had pale gray flesh covered in what appeared to be wiry tendrils that covered him from head to toe. He had leathery lips and a broad, flat nose with a triple row of vented nostrils thrust out from beneath almond-shaped black eyes that had no pupils. His ears were pointed and twitched like those of a cat. His very large hands had exceedingly long fingers though his thumb was short and flanged out at the tip. One thick, strange-looking plait of jagged scales fell from the top of his head to just below his hips. He wore a breechclout over his genitals and it was obvious to her that he was very well endowed.
“This is Shanee,” Ailyn said.
There was a low, warbling grunt from Jules. He took another step back as though prepared to run at any moment.
“Would you like to come inside?” Ailyn asked.
The horror that had once been an exceedingly handsome man shook his head vehemently, his long plait whipping as though it were a viper.
Shanee shook off her husband’s grip and stepped forward, stilling when Jules once more stepped back. She held out her hand. “Hello, Jules,” she managed to say. She tried to smile but her face felt frozen.
Jules looked down at her hand then cocked his head to one side. His dark eyes were like stygian pools in his cinereous face. When she came closer, he thrust what he was holding out to her.
Taken aback by the sudden movement, Shanee jumped. Her gaze fell to the thing in his overly large hands and she had to caution herself not to cringe when she saw the long, pointed red claws that grew from his fingers.
With another grunt and one step toward Shanee, Jules straightened to his full height and his chin lifted. He moved his offering toward her.
Shanee realized what he was holding out to her, what had flashed so dangerously in the moonlight, was an eight by ten piece of flattened tin. Her forehead wrinkled as she reached for it. In her hands it was very warm and she realized that like Ailyn and all Reapers, his body temperature was much higher than a humanoid’s. She felt her husband move up behind her.
Jules seemed to be swaying back and forth from foot to foot and his movement reminded her of a little boy anxious for his mother to see what he had brought her.
She held the flattened tin so she could see it clearly in the moonlight and her lips parted. She stared at the surface of the tin then slowly lifted her gaze to Jules. “You did this?” she asked.
The hideously deformed man bobbed his head and grunted again.
Shanee turned her head and looked at Ailyn. “Look,” she said.
What she held in her hand was an intricately designed and executed punched and pierced tin portrait of Ailyn and Shanee looking at one another during their Joining. They were holding hands with the waterfall and the lake in the background. The portrait was so lifelike, so perfectly precise and carefully crafted with an oval Gaelach knotwork pattern enclosing the couple. At the top left corner was an ancient Claddagh symbol and on the top right was a trinity knot of entwined hearts. On the bottom left corner were their names and on the bottom right the date. The craftsmanship was superb, the most beautiful thing either Ailyn or Shanee had ever seen.
“Oh Jules,” she whispered. “It is exquisite.”
Ailyn met the other man’s eyes. “Thank you, my friend. We will hang it in a place of honor in our home and think of you.”
Jules grunted again, shrugged and then turned to go.
“Wait!” Shanee called out and before the misshapen man could flee, she was in front of him, standing on tiptoe with her hands on his upper arms so she could place a soft kiss on his leather tendril cheek.
Too astonished that this beautiful woman would deign to touch him much less put her lips to him, Jules just stood there staring at her. She was smiling at him as though he were a normal man and he put his hand up to the place where her lips had touched him.
“Thank you,” she said. “I will treasure your gift always.”
With a sound that was more whimper than grunt, he whipped around and was gone, leaving nothing behind but an eerie black mist that fell like rain to the jungle floor.
Shanee turned back to her husband and just looked at him.
“He comes here now and then,” Ailyn said. “Not often. Only I suppose whenever he can’t take the loneliness. It’s been months since I’ve seen him. He lives at the base of the stream.”
“C-can he talk?” she asked.
“Aye, but it is s
o garbled you have to listen carefully,” he replied. “I’m used to it.”
She came toward him and he took her hand. The wedding gift from Jules was clasped to her chest. Together they went back into the cave and when they were in the chamber where they slept, Shanee took the portrait and propped it on a stone ledge in a prominent place. She ran the tips of her fingers across the lovely artwork.
“He is so talented,” she said.
“Aye, he is,” Ailyn agreed.
“And so very lonely,” she said.
Ailyn didn’t answer. He had heard her voice break and when she turned and threw herself at him, sobbing as though her heart would break, he enclosed her in his arms and crooned to her.
“I hate that bitch for doing that to him!” she said.
He held her for a long time as she cried for a man whose plight had touched her very soul.
Chapter Eight
The LRC Midian returned for Shanee far sooner than she would have liked. Her thirty days of R&R were over and she had to leave the paradise that was Theristes and the friends she had made on the lush, tropical world. She would miss Tariq and Bahiya, Jared, Damian and the others. And though he had not returned to visit again, she would miss the lonely man who lived at the base of the stream.
Dressed once more in her gray Riezell Guardian uniform that she had not worn since her first days on Theristes, her entire bearing seemed to be changing as she stepped on board the LRC. Her face was rigid, her lips clamped together.
Ailyn—clothed in the immaculate black uniform of a Reaper—was characteristically quiet as he walked with his lady up the ramp and onto the ship.
Captain Bartlett met Shanee and Ailyn on the bridge and put out a hand to the Reaper. “I am pleased to hear you will be returning home, Lieutenant,” he said, shaking Ailyn’s hand. He nodded at Shanee and acknowledged her with a quick nod. He knew the Amazeen did not shake hands with men.
“Thank you, Sir, but I think my commission ended when I was believed dead,” Ailyn said.
“Not so,” Bartlett replied. “You are still on the roster since no body was ever found and you might be interested to know that you will be receiving all back pay due you upon your return to Riezell.”