Blood of Jackals (Lords of Legan Book 2)

by Todd Marcelas Moreno

  Armed with the items the Soror had made her gather, her only task was to get Derrick out of the palace. Once out, they would be met, with Derrick taken to a hiding place by someone whom the Soror left unnamed. A precaution, in case Lilth Morays discovered her involvement.

  When she discovers my involvement, Vialette thought grimly. For that, she knew that she too would have to go into hiding as well at some point.

  She stopped at the hidden door leading to where Derrick was kept. So far, there had been no surveillance to worry about, as the passages were secret, and meant for use by only those who knew about them. Beyond this door however, her presence would be known. Breathing deeply and pulling on the hood of her cloak, Vialette opened the door and entered the final corridor.

  “Hold!” ordered a guard as she walked toward Derrick’s cell. As expected, the guard was alone, though others would be nearby. “Who are you? How did you get here?”

  Vialette waited until he was next to her before facing him, mindful of where the camera monitors were located. When the man saw her face, he held up his weapon and stepped back in surprise. Her expression of grim determination was one few had ever seen. Summoning all the sense of command she could, she gestured for the guard to open the door. He moved to obey, but then hesitated. Vialette’s right hand shot forward and tightened over the man’s wrist.

  “I am to check on Lord Derrick’s condition,” Vialette said with her thoughts, safe from outside detection by the link she had established when touching the man. “My aunt expects a report.” She tinged the last with the air of a threat.

  The guard’s eyes widened. “She sent you here?” the man asked between gasps of breath.

  Vialette’s answer was a cold stare and a grave nod.

  The man shook his head, as if to clear it. “I should check with—”

  She cut him off with a pointed gesture toward the door.

  “I—I will at least have to accompany you—”

  Vialette again cut him off with preemptory wave of her hand, not wanting him to say her name. Unlocking the door, the guard silently followed her inside.

  Derrick lay in bed with his arms suspended by his wrists. He was unconscious. Next to him was a large, reclining hover chair, presumably used by someone watching over him.

  Aware that surveillance cameras were again absent, Vialette removed her hood. “Lower his arms,” she ordered, her hands going to the pockets of her cloak. “I must speak with him.”

  Standing by the door as the guard obeyed, Vialette noted where the room controls were, gripped one of the objects the Soror had told her how to find, and stepped forward. Derrick groggily moaned as his arms were lowered, but he did not open his eyes.

  “Shall I wake him for you, Lady Vialette?” the guard asked, turning and finding her right beside him with an unknown object in her hands.

  “No,” Vialette replied, pressing a hand-held stunner to his ribs. The man froze, his muscles locked by the electrical current. Once the discharge was expended, he collapsed in a twitching heap. “That will not be necessary,” she added, stepping over him to get to Derrick.

  Vialette paused as she drew near, noting the outline of Derrick’s form beneath his clinging white sheet. The way Derrick was sprawled out, he looked as if he had been beaten. There were no marks on his body however, aside from the cuts on his wrists and ankles.

  Taking a moment to gaze upon his pale face, Vialette touched one of his hands. It was cold. So was his cheek. Vialette undid the restraints and gently massaged the blood back into his hands. She had just about finished with the last one when Derrick jerked his hand away and sat up, swinging his arms as if to continue his battle with an imaginary enemy.

  Instinctively Vialette reached around and pulled him close, sitting as she rocked him back and forth. Keeping her head next to his, she sent out a calming emotional projection. Finally Derrick relaxed in her arms, further soothed by her caress. Suddenly he held her tight as a spasm overtook him. She returned his firm embrace, one of her hands moving along his back and the other patting his bare shoulder as tears ran down her face.

  His strength fading, Derrick’s arms slowly fell away from her. Vialette gently let him lay back down, ignoring his nakedness as his dark haunted eyes looked searchingly into hers.

  “Whhh-who are you?” Derrick finally asked, his voice a dry rasp. Vialette closed her eyes to quell the onslaught of new-formed tears.

  “Vialette,” she replied, her eyes sparkling as a tear brimmed over in escape. With visible strain, Derrick reached up to wipe the droplet away, allowing his fingers to feel the softness of her skin as he convinced himself that she was real. Tilting her head to where his hand rested along her neck, Vialette winced as his hand withdrew and his arm dropped back to his side.

  “Vialette,” he whispered, his eyelashes flickering as he tried to stay awake. “Please,” his body heaved as he again began the descent into unconsciousness. “Please,” he managed again, his eyes now closed. “Take me away from here.”

  Vialette’s breath caught as she closed her own eyes. And opened them again. She did not have time for any more emotional indulgences. Gently she shook Derrick awake. He mumbled something as he tried to focus his vision. Pulling a hypo-needle from a pocket, Vialette looked at Derrick in the eyes. “For strength,” she said, showing him the hypo before administering the stimulant.

  Derrick cringed once but said nothing.

  “We are leaving now,” Vialette said as she stood and went to the unconscious guard. She began to undress the man. “Here, help me with this. You have to put on these clothes and pretend to be my escort.” Vialette was halfway done tossing parts of the guard’s uniform on the bed for Derrick when she noticed that he had not moved. “We need to hurry,” she said, again looking at him in the eyes.

  Derrick was afraid. “I do not know how to be a guard,” he said, tightening his grip on his blanket. “She told me she would kill me if I tried to escape.”

  “She will also kill you if you stay,” Vialette replied, removing the guard’s trousers. “All you have to do to pass yourself off as a guard is keep your back straight and look serious. You will not have to say a word. I will do all the talking.” Vialette gathered the guard’s uniform closer to Derrick. “Put these on,” she said firmly. “I have to take care of the guard.”

  Derrick gave her a puzzled look, but Vialette turned away before he could ask her any questions. Still looking at her nervously, Derrick finally started to get dressed. Sighing in relief, Vialette crouched over the guard.

  In her sharing, the Soror had taught her how to excise a portion of the guard’s memory, so that her identity might be kept hidden. The difficulty was not only in the technique being new to Vialette, but in the fact that she did not have much time to accomplish her task. If she failed, she would be forced to kill the guard, or immediately go into hiding herself.

  Taking a calming breath, Vialette reached out to the guard with her thoughts. The man had some training, but his shields ultimately gave way after two focused bursts of power. The first step was done. Next, she had to enter his—

  With a sharp cry, Vialette was thrown back from the guard. Derrick backed up against the wall as he watched the guard’s body spasm. By the time Vialette got to her feet, the guard was completely still.

  “What happened?” Derrick asked, staring at the guard. “Is he dead?”

  “Yes,” Vialette breathed, wiping the hair from her face. “My aunt ‘proofed’ him.” She saw Derrick’s incomprehension. “She made it so that his mind could not be tampered with,” Vialette explained, “except by her, of course. There was nothing I could do.”

  “Who is your Aunt?” Derrick asked wearily.

  Vialette looked at him, seeing again the fear about to immobilize him. “Get those boots on,” she said, adjusting her hood and cloak. “We must leave now. We only have so much time before they discover that this guard is not at his post.”

  -

  Having re-entered the hidden pa
ssageway Vialette used to get to Derrick’s cell, at last they came to the point where they would head in a new direction. As they continued walking, Vialette took Derrick’s hand.

  “Soon we will use another secret door,” she said with her thoughts. “That is when you will need to act like my escort. Are you ready? Squeeze my hand once for yes, twice for no.”

  Derrick squeezed her hand once just as they reached the hidden door.

  - - -

  IX

  Jordan rushed into Crucidel’s military command center, nearly tripping over the body of a dead officer. Two other bodies lay strewn nearby. Sister or no, Jordan resented having to come all the way from Pablen, and from the thighs of his latest dalliance, just for Lilth.

  “What kept you?” Lilth snapped at him before issuing further orders to a sweating security officer. Crucidel was on full security alert. Reports were coming in on screens and through com-channels from all over the viscounty. While defenses were heightened however, Jordan instantly knew that the real objective was search and destroy.

  “When?” Jordan asked as he stepped closer to his sister.

  Lilth whirled. “Almost two hours ago.” She glanced about the room before saying more. There were too many ears. “He had help from someone who knew the palace very well,” she added psychically, her response for Jordan alone.

  “Someone on the inside then,” Jordan surmised.

  “Take over the search, Jordan,” Lilth said. “You know what must be done.”

  “But how am I supposed to know what—”

  “Major,” Lilth called. A man came forward and stood at attention. “Brief Lord Jordan on the situation, and follow his orders.”

  “Yes, m’Lady.”

  “Where are you going?” Jordan asked as his sister walked away.

  “To check on a curious little girl, one who just recently went missing.”

  - - -

  Lilth entered her meditation chamber and inhaled deeply. Releasing her breath as she opened her awareness, she searched with her thoughts for Vialette.

  Derrick was unique among the scions of House Possór in that Lilth had never had the access she had with ones like Vialette. Derrick’s mother simply would not allow it. Even now, Lilth kept her psychic connection with Derrick to a minimum. If their plan failed, Lilth could not afford to have anything linking her to what had happened to him. There were no such concerns regarding Vialette however. Indeed, with her, Lilth had placed psychic implants that she would never have inserted into Derrick. It was one of those implants that Lilth used now.

  “Vialette?” Lilth whispered telepathically.

  Nearly half a planet away, Vialette’s breath caught.

  “Why did you run, Vialette?” Lilth asked, seeing through Vialette’s eyes where she was. Lilth did not recognize the area, but it did not matter.

  “Who is this?” Vialette asked, a sudden dizziness about to overtake her.

  “Do you not know, Child?” Lilth replied. “Who else could it be?”

  “Aunt Lilth?”

  “That is right, Child. Now, tell me what happened to Derrick.”

  “But Aunt Lilth, I—” Vialette choked on her words. Lilth could feel that inside, Vialette wanted to flee, but that her muscles would not obey.

  “Tell me,” Lilth repeated. If not for the urgent circumstances, Lilth might have smiled as Vialette fought against a compulsion she could not control.

  “I—no, Aunt Lilth,” Vialette replied.

  “What, Vialette?”

  “I mean, I do not know...do you mean his kidnapping?”

  The Viscountess seethed at her niece’s defiance, made more infuriating because the girl had found a way to overcome the psychic conditioning she had implanted. Not wanting to waste time convincing her to talk, Lilth tried another one of her controls. “Return to Crucidel.”

  The images Lilth received through Vialette’s eyes became unsteady. “I...” Vialette shook again as the psychic command took hold.

  “Return to Crucidel, Vialette.” Moments passed, but the compulsion held.

  “Yes, Aunt Lilth,” Vialette said finally.

  - - -

  Vialette sat in the small circular room, lit only by a focused beam emanating from the ceiling. There were no sounds other than her own. Tracing faint lines along the wall with her fingers, she was sure there was a door, but saw no way to open it. Other lines ran along the circular wall as well, but she knew they were not for decorative effect. After all, she was in a criminal detention chamber. Behind the wall hid interrogation devices: machines for torture, tools of pain and pleasure. Vialette was about to try again to contact her aunt with her thoughts when Lilth entered the room from somewhere behind her.

  “Aunt Lilth!” Vialette cried as she stood from her chair.

  Lilth Morays made a halting gesture. Vialette fell back in her chair, silenced and bound. Stepping forward, Lilth placed a hand on Vialette’s forehead without a word. Having failed to catch her aunt’s eye, Vialette sat stunned as Lilth silently removed her hand and left the room.

  Vialette shivered in a sudden chill.

  - - -

  “It was you,” Lilth accused, glaring at the doll she had made of Soror Barell. She psychically floated the doll from its shelf and suspended it in front of her. Securing her mental shielding, the Voxny Viscountess opened the psychic link to the Soror. “You tricked my niece into betraying me,” Lilth menaced. There was no reply. “Speak to me, Bitch, or she will suffer my full wrath.”

  “Your goddaughter thought only to help her cousiné,” Soror Barell replied through the doll. An image of the Soror formed in Lilth’s mind. “And her rightful sovereign,” she added.

  Lilth waved her hand dismissively. “All that matters is that she disobeyed me. The question now is, what do I do with her?”

  “Vialette does not know where Derrick is,” Barell stated flatly.

  “So she may say,” Lilth replied, “but how can I believe her without resorting to unpleasant questioning? Maybe if you tell me, I will not have to believe her.”

  “I do not know where he is either,” said the Soror.

  “So I face two know-nothings,” Lilth breathed. “Pity. You cannot find him?”

  “Even if I could, I would still not give him to you.”

  “Poor Vialette,” said Lilth. “You use her, put her at risk, and now fail her.”

  “Your niece is innocent,” Barell insisted. “The sin is yours, if you harm her.”

  Lilth sighed. “You disappoint me, Soror. You were her last hope.”

  With a wave of her hand, Lilth created a transparent sphere, shrinking it to encase the doll in a psychic prison. There would be no more wanderings for the truthseer at Crucidel. The right corner of Lilth’s mouth lifted slightly. Soon Vialette would be sealed away as well.

  - - -

  Vialette had been brought back to her aunt’s private apartments under guard. As the once forbidden doors opened before her, Vialette shuttered at what she saw. Even at a distance it was clear that something had happened to the dolls. Entering, at first it looked as if the dolls had been through a fire blast, though the rows of shelves themselves were undamaged. Looking closer, Vialette imagined the awareness trapped in each doll having suffered its own explosive blaze, struggling in torment, only to leave its broken prison as it lay.

  “Come in, Vialette,” Lilth said from further in the room.

  Vialette obeyed, trying to shut out the images of the dolls from her mind. “Yes, Aunt Lilth,” she said, her eyes downcast.

  “I have questions I need answered, Child,” Lilth began, stepping away from a table behind her. At the center of the table was again a lump of white clay.

  “But Aunt Lilth, I thought you already—?”

  “I only did a surface scan, Child. Now listen carefully. You must answer honestly. At the first lie, I will take the information from your mind directly.”

  “Please, Aunt Lilth, I do not—”

  “Listen to me, Vialet
te!” Lilth roared, her voice echoing off the walls. Lilth leaned closer. “At the first lie...” she whispered.

  Vialette swallowed, nodding her understanding.

  “Where is Derrick?” Lilth asked.

  “I have no idea,” Vialette replied. The white clay on the table began to move.

  “Who helped you to get him out of Crucidel?”

  “I acted alone.”

  Lilth smiled as the white clay continued to form. “Careful, Vialette,” she said. “The truth, when used to mislead, is still considered by some to be a lie.”

  “Soror Barell helped me,” Vialette said as sweat appeared on her forehead.

  “To whom did you deliver Derrick once he was out?”

  “I do not know.” The white clay was shaping into a figure.

  “How many were there?”

  “One man. I could not see his face.” The figure was one of a woman.

  “Was his voice familiar?” Vialette shook her head. “Where did they go?”

  “I do not know!” Vialette yelled, falling to her knees as she stared in terror at the thin, recognizable female figure wearing the same clothes as she wore.

  “I believe you, Child,” Lilth soothed as color spread over the porcelain figurine. “You see, I also have a little truthseer ability. But you still betrayed us, so something must be done.”

  “Please, Aunt Lilth,” Vialette begged. “I am sorry.”

  “If you want mercy, Child, you must give me a reason.” Vialette looked down, unable to think of one. “At least you spare me an insulting excuse for the inexcusable,” Lilth breathed.

  “What will you do, Aunt Lilth?” Vialette was surprised by her own calm.

  “First, one last question, Child. Did you tell anyone else about Derrick?”

  “About his being a prisoner?”

  “Clever girl. About him being here. About needing help. About escaping.”

  “I only spoke with people working with the Soror. They knew already.”