A Warlord's Lady

by Nicola E. Sheridan

  ‘What do you want?’ I asked, brushing a sticky hand down the silk of my wrap nervously.

  ‘I want you…’ he murmured, shrugging the gun from his shoulders and laying it down on an ottoman strewn with damp towels, then stepping towards me.

  Later, much later, when Cain had gone and I was browsing in post-coital bliss among the books in his den, I heard some of his guards speaking in the corridor. They were discussing the day’s victory over the government. Cain had gained territory and freed a number of naga’s who had been kept in poor conditions, being milked for anti-venom. He’d fought hard, they said, and fought alongside his men, not as something above them, but as one. They spoke in hushed awed tones. Then I heard them mention me. Their tone changed. He’d fought for me, they said — a fat, western Chameleon — and then they’d laughed. I felt something pinch behind my eyes…tears?

  The book I’d been holding slipped from my hands and clattered on the stone floor. Silence. As I stooped to pick up the book, I saw the face of one of Cain’s guards poke around the open doorway. His tanned skin flushed as he saw me. He muttered an incomprehensible apology and both men scurried off quickly.

  He’d done it for me? Why? Why would he do such a thing if it made him — the glorious warlord — the butt of his guardsmen’s jokes?

  I didn’t know then, and I still don’t.

  ***

  Sabra shook her head to clear her mind. Another flashback.

  I know now, she realised grimly. He wants me for my eggs, just like everyone else. With that thought she dismissed the desire to phone him.

  Taking a deep breath, she glanced at the monitors; the corridor was empty. The Shadow Men had leached into other rooms and were looking for her. Mags was walking up the stairwell towards the control room.

  Sabra’s heart began to hammer.

  The grainy image of Mags was followed by a shadow. No doubt the one she’d touched.

  ‘The door is locked.’ Mags’ voice sounded muffled though the thick door. Sabra stared at the door handle wiggling in futility.

  The shadow must have said something, but Sabra couldn’t hear him. Suddenly there was a leaching of darkness from beneath the door. Liquid blackness oozed from hundreds of tiny perforations like smoke in your worst nightmare.

  Sabra stared around the room, willing herself to become invisible again, but it didn’t seem to work. Not a tingle. Why?

  As a shadow, the Shadow Man isn’t sentient, she realised with horror. She knew when he reformed his shape he would be more sentient and her ability may kick into gear, but in the interim, what was she to do?

  After a moment of deliberation, Sabra stripped off her clothes and began a rapid camouflage job; she didn’t know how successful it would be against a shadow, but it was worth the try. At least if she camouflaged, the cameras wouldn’t be able to see her either.

  As her hospital gown fluttered to the ground along with the utilitarian underpants, Sabra shrank back against the wall.

  ‘She’s in here,’ the Shadow Man said as his body formed from the darkness. ‘Where are you?’ he hissed.

  A shiver ran over Sabra’s skin and it puckered with goosebumps, but she didn’t dare move.

  The Shadow Man knelt silently and touched the discarded hospital gown with his grey hands. ‘Where are you?’ he repeated. Each syllable was like a splash of cold water sending a fresh burst of gooseflesh over her body.

  ‘Open the door, Felix!’ Mags’ voice screeched from the other side of the door.

  Felix’s head swivelled around and he stared at the door with no expression.

  ‘Come to me, little grey eyes,’ he crooned.

  What did he want?

  The door knob jangled as Mags clearly tugged on it to gain entrance. ‘Felix, open the damn door!’ she barked.

  The shadow stalked around the room, his darkness affecting what dim light the room contained. Long grey fingers stroked the air, as if checking where she may be. He cocked his head to the side and listened.

  ‘I won’t hurt you…’ he hissed, ‘come out, come out wherever you are…’ He stepped closer.

  Sabra did not like the sound of it.

  There was a sudden bang and activity exploded on the screens; the Shadow Man spun away and stared.

  Sabra became riveted to the screen, too. Mags appeared to be struggling with an enormous figure. A familiar figure.

  ‘Jürgen!’ Sabra breathed, realising belatedly that she had just announced her whereabouts to the shadow. She felt her visage falter and she struggled to create some level of invisibility, but it was failing. The ability was too fickle by far. ‘I’m in here!’ she cried redundantly at the monitor.

  Cold hands reached for her, and the smell of dried fish and dust assailed her nostrils. She looked up and found herself staring into the shadow’s face, darkened further as it was by the brim of his hat.

  ‘What do you want from me?’ she whispered, unable to control the shivers that wracked her, and the horrid sensation that she may lose control of her bladder.

  The narrow eyes watched her — there was no smile, no twinkle, no animation at all. ‘You touched me,’ he said.

  ‘That…that…was an accident,’ Sabra stuttered. ‘I’m sorry if I offended you.’

  An ordinary person may have smiled at that, but the shadow’s face did not shift.

  ‘Please, just let me go. That man out there is here to rescue me.’

  ‘Rescue you?’ If he’d been capable of it, Sabra would have thought he sounded amused. ‘He cannot rescue you, you are mine. You touched me.’

  ‘So you keep saying, but what do you want from me?’

  She had a sickening thought that he may want to have sex with her, but he was a Shadow Man. Shadow Men didn’t have sex, did they? She wished she’d paid more attention during magical biology lessons in school.

  ‘You must come with me.’

  ‘Why?’

  His cold grey hands bit into her arms tightly, his touch toxic and making her weak. ‘Your touch can change me.’

  ‘Change you?’ Sabra dared a glance at the monitor, and then wished she hadn’t. Instead of Mags and Jürgen, two beasts snarled and snapped and tore at each other beyond the door.

  I’ve entered the Twilight Zone! What had happened to Jürgen and Mags? Why were they suddenly beasts?

  She stared again — their clothes had torn and, even on the black and white monitor, Sabra could see blood dripping steadily from both.

  The shadow was still talking. ‘You can make me more corporeal. It gives me strength. The willing touch of a human is — ’

  Sabra interrupted. ‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly human.’

  ‘Human enough. I must take you from here…my brothers will help me. You will give me strength, I will become stronger and you will become a shadow.’

  Sabra wanted to shake her head, cry and crumple. What the hell was it with her? One minute she couldn’t even get Jayden to marry her and the next everyone wanted something from her. It was a new and uncomfortable feeling.

  ‘You can’t get me out of here, just look!’ She pointed at the monitor and tried to block out the hideous snarling sounds coming from beyond the door. ‘How do you intend to get me past them?’

  ‘Aufhockers,’ the Shadow said softly.

  ‘I couldn’t agree more, but swearing won’t help. Even if you could get me past those things — I don’t want to go with you.’

  ‘They are Aufhockers, shape-shifters.’ The Shadow said softly, ‘I am Felix, and together we can get past them. You make me strong.’

  Sabra hesitated. She vaguely remembered Faustus explaining about Mags being an Aufhocker, but Jürgen too? Screw this, Sabra thought angrily, and willed her ability into action. She felt a slight tingle, but didn’t wait to check. She wrenched her arms from Felix’s sickening grip and twisted towards the door. The guttural snarls and snaps sounded truly horrific.

  Felix hissed behind her, but she didn’t care. Using a
ll her gumption, Sabra wrenched the door open. Then instantly wished she hadn’t.

  Chapter 10

  Blood.I It was everywhere.

  My blood? She felt drowsy. The sounds of the Aufhocker fight receded. She could hear Felix’s angry hisses. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. She’d just have a sleep now.

  ‘Look what you’ve done!’ Mags’ voice shrieked from behind a haze of tiredness.

  ‘It was you!’ Jürgen’s German accent sounded panicky. ‘Heal her, before she dies!’

  Mags growled, ‘I can’t, and the only other magician is Faustus and he’s…he’s…’ She faded off. ‘Look, we need to get her to a hospital. There is no one here who can heal this.’ Sabra felt hands on her neck, presumably stemming the blood-loss.

  ‘Isn’t there any other magician in the house?’ Jürgen’s tone was urgent and it made Sabra want to giggle, but when she did, something bubbled in her throat and she choked and spluttered instead.

  Best just have a nap, she thought dully, naps make everything better. Sabra tried to drift away but the conversation around her was jarring and stopped her.

  ‘No, Faustus is the only one. It’s just me and the Shadow Men.’

  ‘Shadow Men?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What the fuck are you doing collaborating with them?’

  The conversation was getting boring now, and the urge to sleep was strong.

  ‘Can you call this Faustus?’

  ‘No, he left me in charge…’

  The hands at her neck tightened. Jürgen spoke again. ‘She’s bleeding too much, we have to go to the hospital.’

  Hospital? I just need a sleep.

  ‘Oh…’ Mags groaned. ‘This can’t be happening. Look, I can try some of my magic but…’

  ‘Do it,’ Jürgen growled, and the hands eased on her throat. A nauseating spurt of blood exploded from the severed vein and it pattered around like warm rain.

  ‘Oh dear,’ she heard Mags whisper before a hum and a slight, slight tingle of magic. Aufhockers, however, were magical shifters, not magicians — the blood still boiled down her throat and pain as hot as molten steel seeped through her body.

  ‘That’s all I can do,’ Mags whispered, as if far in the distance. ‘She’s going to die without stronger magical intervention, and they’ll have healing magicians and doctors at the hospital. Gods, Faustus is going to kill me if I lose those eggs.’

  Again with the eggs. Scarlet and black spots danced behind her eyelids as the thought drifted by.

  ‘What fucking eggs?’ Sabra heard Jürgen growl. She couldn’t hear Mags answer. An immense wave of tiredness swept over her. It was like a suffocating black blanket, snuffing out the pain and speeding her rapid heartbeat. The arguments faded into darkness; Sabra sighed peacefully and allowed herself to fall into the black silence.

  ***

  ‘Miss Westwood,’ a male voice called. ‘Miss Westwood, can you hear me?’

  Another crippling smash of pain tore through her body. Sabra released a small cry, but otherwise didn’t respond. She couldn’t.

  ‘Miss Westwood,’ the voice repeated. This time she felt hands on her face, peeling her eyelids open. Flashes of bright white light scorched her eyeballs and she tried to wrench her head away; the hands reluctantly released her.

  ‘Let me speak with her,’ said a gruff and familiar voice.

  Hollis. Where the hell am I?

  Sabra blinked, her eyes sore and flash burned. She twisted her head to the sound of Hollis’s voice and stared. There he was, large as life, his cropped grey hair neat and his eyes hard.

  ‘You are in the hospital, Ms Westwood.’

  Sabra gaped at him, as if he were speaking another language. She noticed her surroundings and registered the intensive care unit of the Fremantle Hospital. She’d been there once before when she was younger, and it hadn’t changed much. The smell of disinfectant and sickness remained the same and the buzz of activity never slowed.

  ‘Sergeant, please, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. She is quite safe in here, and you have guards at the doors. The ICU is no place for interviews.’

  Hollis looked as though he’d just tasted earwax; his lips tightened and he gulped.

  ‘Miss Westwood will be transferred to secure rooms within the hour. You may speak with her then.’

  ‘How long until she can be transferred to Cerebral Management?’ Hollis asked.

  Sabra shuddered.

  The doctor clearly noticed Sabra’s reaction. ‘I’m not certain she requires admission to Cerebral Management. She’s the victim of an attack.’

  ‘She’s the ex-concubine of the Warlord, Cain Dath. She was kidnapped four days ago and hadn’t been seen until she turned up here with her throat sliced. She needs all the protection the government can afford her — and the safest place is the Cerebral Management Facility.’ Hollis growled something profane under his breath. He was leaning close to the bed and Sabra could feel an uncomfortable electricity in the air around him. It buzzed on her skin. Hollis’s steel cold eyes met hers and narrowed. She stared blankly back. With another curse, he looked away and glared at the doctor before striding from the room.

  Sabra turned her head and watched him go. Strange. He looked remarkably fit and healthy, a far cry from the injured man calling for back-up she’d seen at her house a few days beforehand. She frowned, confused, and her eyelids began to fall. As she closed her eyes, bits of memory started flitting back through her mind: Faustus and Mags, her swollen belly from the fertility drugs. Had they harvested her eggs while she was out? she wondered. Then she remembered the Shadow Man, Felix, and her desperate attempt to get to Jürgen.

  Then nothing.

  Wearily, she opened her eyes and turned her head again, and this time felt a strange tightness in her neck. She raised a hand tentatively to the spot only to find it was swathed in bandages.

  ‘What happened to me?’ she croaked.

  The doctor, an indescribably handsome blond, narrowed sea blue eyes at her. ‘Some sort of animal attack, we believe. The person who rang the ambulance didn’t elaborate or leave a name, apparently. The police are investigating.’

  ‘Of course they are,’ she grated. ‘Where was I found?’

  Damn, my voice is husky.

  Sabra looked at the doctor’s badge. Doctor Elliot, it read.

  The doctor hesitated and took a wary glance at the door where the two policemen stood, hands on holsters, ready for action.

  ‘I’m sorry, Miss Westwood, I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Sergeant Hollis later.’

  ‘Doctor, I don’t want to go to Cerebral Management. I’ve done nothing wrong.’

  Dr Elliot’s eyes softened. ‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. ‘I’m just the Magical Being Specialist on call tonight. The regular doctor is due back tomorrow. When she comes in, perhaps you can speak with her. I’ll put your request in your notes, and have a word with the legal liaison when my shift finishes, but there’s not much else I can do.’

  He looked genuinely sorry. Sabra’s gaze fell and lingered on his hand; a shiny new wedding band sat on his ring finger. The good ones are always taken.

  She felt her skin fluctuate in colour at the thought. Damn hormones.

  Dr Elliot smiled at her knowingly. ‘Relax, Miss Westwood, the magician doctors did a great job sealing up the wounds, and once you’ve had a little more saline you’ll feel a lot better.’

  Sabra doubted that, but she allowed her head to sink back into the stiff pillow and close her eyes again. There wasn’t much she could do right now, anyway. She had the awful feeling that she was just sinking deeper into the proverbial pile of shit.

  With only one nostril above the sludge line.

  ***

  ‘How could you let this happen?’ Cain bellowed. His cargo pants were ripped, lines of dirt were smeared across his face and a jagged cut ran through an eyebrow. While Jürgen had been hunting down Maggie and Sabra, he’d headed a successful surprise attack against th
e government and asserted his domination in another quarter of Vientiane. Alas, the victory was tremulous, and the situation unstable. As if this was not irritating enough, Jürgen had returned — without Sabra, without Maggie and filled with bizarre stories of mafia harvesting human eggs.

  ‘You’re telling me that the mafia and Maggie South are planning on taking out Sabra’s…Sabra’s…eggs?’ What kind of sick animals were these people?

  He wondered what they could possibly want with Sabra’s genetic material. Do they know about the prophecy and are trying to thwart it?

  Jürgen’s face reddened as he nodded. ‘They are after something in her genetic make-up.’ Blood dripped steadily from the wounds on his face and arms. ‘I don’t know what, though,’ he added quickly. ‘They’ve been pumping Sabra full of hormones to make the extraction possible.’ He faltered and his pale blue eyes met Cain’s shakily. ‘But you must understand, my lord, I fought Maggie hard to try and get to her.’

  Cain ignored his words, anger spiking. ‘But you didn’t get her, did you?’

  Jürgen’s gaze turned shifty and he looked away.

  ‘What happened, Jürgen? What happened to Sabra?’ Concern spiked in Cain’s veins. Every passing minute made him feel increasingly impotent. What if Sabra has been killed or harmed while Jürgen was discovering this sick plot to steal human eggs?

  I’d know if she were dead, wouldn’t I? After all, they were prophesied to be together, he’d known it from the moment he’d first seen her.

  Jürgen’s pale eyes darted away and Cain couldn’t miss the nervousness in the look. His guard swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he rubbed his top lip, smearing more blood around his face.

  ‘Tell me,’ Cain grated again.

  Taking a steadying breath, Jürgen answered in a rush. ‘I did get her briefly. But…’ He looked away again before continuing. ‘But now she’s at a hospital.’

  Cain was silent. A gamut of emotions floored him: instant anger, then relief.

  Not dead. Thank the Gods. The thought brought a level of peace he hadn’t expected, but it was quickly shattered when reality dawned. ‘What happened? How was she hurt? Did those bastards hurt her?’