“Poison,” the Healer stated succinctly.
* * * * *
Tamara jumped as a heavy hand fell on her shoulder. She dared not glance around even though she knew—by the musky scent—whose fingers were kneading her shoulder in far too intimate contact.
“So where did he go?” Sagira demanded. “His horse is still here.” She pointed to the black beast tied beside Tamara’s own bay gelding.
“Tell her he is crazed and is no doubt wandering the desert searching for them,” Kaibyn said softly.
Even though she knew her sister could not see the demon, Tamara winced, fearful they could hear his low voice, but the six women facing her did not appear to have heard him speak.
“Why are you so skittish, Tamara?” Luka queried, her eyes narrowed. “You jump at every sound.”
“You saw him,” Tamara said between clenched teeth. She shrugged off the heavy hand on her shoulder and put distance between her and the demon. “Is that not reason to be edgy?”
The Daughters of the Night exchanged glances. They had already searched the tent, not finding their quarry. The fact that his very costly steed remained troubled them. No warrior would leave behind such a valuable mount.
“Did you talk to him?” Oriel asked.
Tamara shook her head. “He is not in his right mind. The evil you did to him obviously stole his senses.”
“But what a way to lose one’s mind, eh, wench?” Kaibyn chuckled. “I can think of worse things than being fucked into insanity!”
Ignoring the demon, Tamara told the women the warrior had wandered off into the desert, not even recognizing her.
“Where he will die,” Luka pronounced. She looked out across the dark landscape. “Mayhap we should go after him to make sure.”
“Mayhap you should leave him the hell alone and let him die in peace!” Tamara snarled. She took a step toward Luka. “Haven’t you done enough to the poor man?”
“Easy, now!” Sagira, who had pronounced herself in charge, cautioned. “We do not need to fight over a man, Sisters.”
“Especially not an Akkadian,” Lanoi commented. “They are of no importance to our plan.”
Tamara turned toward the tall woman. “And what plan is that?”
“To have dominion over…” Reva began, but Sagira cut her off.
“When we return to Bandar, you’ll learn all about what is planned,” Sagira stated. “As a tenth degree adept, you will be made privy to all our queen’s tactics.”
“Ah, well, she wouldn’t have risen to that degree if she had not murdered Sylviana,” Luka murmured.
“They fought fair and square, Luka,” Sagira admonished her half-sister. “Tamara proved herself a better woman than your friend.”
Luka cast Tamara a hateful glance but said nothing more.
“That one is your enemy, wench,” Kaibyn warned. “Best keep a close watch on her.”
“I will,” Tamara said beneath her breath.
“You will what?” Sagira inquired, her forehead crinkled.
“I will wait to hear what plan our queen has engineered,” Tamara responded. She steeled herself not to react as the demon strolled casually over to the women and began eying them up and down.
“This one is a bit hefty in the hips but then there’s more flesh to pinch,” he said and reached out to do just that to Reva’s broad ass.
“Ow!” Reva screeched, putting a hand to her plump butt. “Something bit me!”
Tamara bit her lips to keep from laughing. She covered her mouth with her hand.
Lanoi jumped, grabbing her arm where a vicious pain had suddenly twisted her flesh. “That hurt!”
Oriel rubbed vigorously at her face, swatting away an invisible touch that had lightly slapped against her cheek. “Stop it!” she ordered.
Luka’s head jerked back as though someone had yanked brutally on her long hair. She fell backwards, landing on her rear end.
“I’d snatch her baldheaded for you, wench, but I’ll save that pleasure for you,” Kaibyn quipped.
“What is this?” Sagira asked in a fearful voice, her head swiveling side-to-side as she looked for the unseen assailant that was suddenly plaguing her Sisters.
“Demons,” Trista spoke up for the first time. “There are demons about!”
“Mount up!” Tamara suggested. “Let us be away from this accursed place!” She headed for her horse, casting Kaibyn an amused look as she went.
Every woman save Tamara was being assaulted by unseen beings moving amongst them. Too busy with trying to get away from the physical attack, the women barely noticed Tamara mounting her horse.
“I’ll take this brute with me,” Tamara called out. Already Kaibyn was seated on Evann-Sin’s huge black destrier. “I claim him as my right since Sylviana slew my would-have-been lover!”
The Daughters of the Night rushed to their own mounts, leaving behind the invisible terrors that had bruised their flesh. As they galloped away—fast on the heels of Tamara’s racing steed—they glanced back at the tent where demons had come out of nowhere to torment them.
“That was my tent,” Oriel complained as she lashed the flanks of her mount.
“You want it,” Luka told her. “You go back for it!”
Sagira whipped her own horse until the beast was running alongside Tamara’s. “You were untouched!” she accused.
Tamara turned her head as the wind tore at her hair. “Mayhap it was the Akkadian come back to get even,” she shouted. “He was the son of the Panther, you know.”
All the color drained from Sagira’s face. She could do no more than stare at Tamara, so stunned at such news she allowed her mount to fall behind Tamara’s.
“I don’t think that piece of information set well with the bitch,” Kaibyn remarked.
“Good,” Tamara said in a normal tone of voice, knowing the demon would hear despite the thundering of their horses’ hooves and the rush of the wind coming at them. She glanced at Luka and Oriel as they raced by, their heels drumming into the flanks of their mounts in order to put distance between themselves and the place where hidden powers had attacked them.
One by one, the other horses passed Tamara’s until she was a hundred yards or so behind her Sisters.
“Are you spurring on their mounts, demon?” Tamara asked, amusement rife in her voice.
“Let them outdistance us, wench,” Kaibyn advised and reached over to grab the reins of Tamara’s horse.
Annoyed that the demon would take such a liberty, Tamara was about to admonish him but in the next instant, they were no longer galloping over the desert sands and were sitting astride their mounts at an oasis she did not recognize.
Blinking to rid her head of the strange spinning feeling that made her a bit nauseous, she reeled in the saddle only to feel the demon’s hand steadying her.
“Easy, wench,” he said and in the next instant, she was lying cradled in his arms as he lifted her down from her horse.
Though at first glance the oasis was barren of all but a few sweeping date palms, glistening water from a wide pond, and soft-looking sands, a large multicolored tent suddenly appeared.
Unable to speak for the nausea that welled in her throat, Tamara felt herself being carried into the tent and was immediately assailed with the sweet scent of gardenia and a pleasant warmth leeching from a fire in a glowing brazier. As she was laid down on a soft, plump mattress she knew must be stuffed with goose down, she stared into Kaibyn Zafeyr’s dark eyes.
“The feeling will pass, Sweeting,” Kaibyn said gently.
Knowing she had been transported in much the same way Evann-Sin had, Tamara wondered if her lover had felt the same disorientation.
“Aye,” Kaibyn said, reading her thoughts. “You will get used to it.”
“Will he?” she couldn’t help but ask.
Kaibyn shrugged as he stretched out besides her, turning to lie on his side and look at her. “If he doesn’t get too prickish with me, he will.”
Tamara
swallowed, closing her eyes. The strange feeling was passing. Even though she was alarmed at what the demon had done, she could see the advantages of such immediate travel.
“Where did you take him?” she asked, putting a hand to her forehead.
“Just outside the gates of the Akkadian palace,” Kaibyn replied as he took her hand. “I waited until his men found him. He’s being taken care of, wench.”
Firmly, Tamara removed her hand from his grip. “I belong to Riel Evann-Sin, demon.”
“Kaibyn,” the demon said on a long sigh. “My name is Kaibyn.”
She opened her eyes and looked over at him. “Kaibyn,” she repeated but when his eyes lit, she put steel into her voice. “I belong to him.”
Kaibyn’s forehead puckered for a moment as he looked deeply into her amethyst gaze. When he found what he searched for, he sighed again. “You can’t stop a man from trying, Sweeting.”
“There is a woman for you somewhere,” she said. “But it isn’t me.”
Kaibyn shrugged. “Things change.”
Tamara wanted things straight between them so against her better judgment she sat up. The dizziness was not as bad as at first but the nausea still lurked in her throat. She swallowed, willing it to pass.
“We’ve time to discuss this,” Kaibyn reminded her.
“Nay,” she insisted. “We will discuss it now.”
Kaibyn listened as she told him how she felt about the Akkadian warrior. There was a pleasant, respectful look upon his handsome face and he nodded in all the appropriate places, murmuring his agreement to her assertions that she would never love another man save Riel Evann-Sin. He assured her he would behave, would not attempt to seduce her, while actively plotting how he could take her away from the warrior.
“Do you understand?” she asked.
“I do,” he said, putting a hand to his chest. “And I swear I will do nothing that will ever cause you the first moment’s hurt, Sweeting.”
“Then bring Evann-Sin back to me,” she said then added, “Now.”
“At this moment, he is being taken care of by his father’s Healer,” Kaibyn informed her. “If I should journey there and grab him up, he will have one helluva time explaining it.”
Tamara knew that was true. As much as she wanted to be with her lover, he was many miles away. Despite the demon’s assurances he would leave her alone, she didn’t trust him.
“Then where is Rabin?”
The mentioning of the darkling put a harsh frown on the demon’s face. “Where he was when the Hell Hags came back to your encampment,” he replied. “He circled behind them and was waiting not far away when they left. He is following them at a safe distance. They can’t see him but they can see a riderless horse following them.” He chuckled. “They no doubt think it hell-sent.”
“Go fetch Rabin, then,” Tamara ordered. “There are things that need to be done.”
Kaibyn groaned. “You don’t want to be alone with me. Is that it?”
“Aye,” she answered truthfully.
One moment he was lying beside her, the next he was seated across the tent, probing at the fire with a poker. He didn’t look at her but kept his attention on the flames in the brazier. “He’s outside,” he said.
Rabin entered the tent at that moment, staggering just a little as he sat down on a thick cushion. He cast the demon an angry look. “Don’t do that again,” he warned.
Kaibyn clucked his tongue. “You men are such babies.” He cocked an eyebrow at the dark man. “Are you going to allow me to do what you can’t?”
Narrowing his eyes dangerously, Rabin squatted before the fire. “I find my hearing has vastly improved, wench,” he told Tamara and ignoring the demon’s challenge. “I heard one of the Hell Hags say Kebul is firmly entrenched. Do you think that means Kebul and its inhabitants are now under Lilit’s spell?”
Kaibyn looked up from the fire. “If Kebul is entrenched, does that mean Dakhla and her bitches are now blood-drinkers?”
Tamara nodded slowly, disturbed by Rabin’s news. “I believe so, Lord Kaibyn.”
The demon grinned. “Well, now. That is good to hear.”
“Why?” Tamara questioned.
“I wasn’t planning on killing Dakhla, but rather making her suffer for what she did to me. But if she is no longer human, we will need to kill her. Correct?”
“To put her soul to rest, aye,” Tamara agreed.
“And one way to kill a vampire is to stake it out in the sun,” Kaibyn reminded them.
“Just as you were staked, eh?” Rabin asked.
“Tit for tat,” Kaibyn replied with a chuckle then his eyes clouded. “Will that also mean my beloved Lilabet is now one of those things?”
“If she’s been turned,” Tamara replied. “And if the court is firmly entrenched as Rabin has reported, no one will be left that is entirely human.”
“None?”
“It is highly doubtful, Kaibyn,” Tamara answered. “I would think…”
One moment the demon was sitting beside the fire, the next a rush of wind blew across Tamara’s cheeks and Kaibyn was gone.
“Rude bastard,” Rabin remarked. His forehead crinkled. “Do you think I could learn to…?”
Tamara’s mouth dropped open as Rabin disappeared before her eyes.
Chapter Eight
Queen Lilabet was hunkered down as close to the wall as she could press her pregnant body. Her hands were clapped over her mouth to stifle the scream that threatened to escape at any moment. Beside her, her last surviving Lady-in-Waiting was trembling so violently, the queen could hear the woman’s teeth clicking together. The two were squatting over a small pool of their own urine—released when a hulking warrior had shuffled aimlessly by their position, his neck gaping open from multiple bite wounds.
The dark corridor was silent now, the last of the screams and skirls of metal as soldiers fought to save their own lives stilled as the day neared its birthing and the ghastly inhabitants of Kebul slithered into whatever hidey-holes they could find to escape the rays of the sun. Here, beneath the palace, Lilabet knew they would not be safe for the darkness was their enemy.
When the sounds of the attack came, palace guards had come to barricade the doors to the seraglio. As it became apparent the palace would fall, word was passed to Fareeq, the Head Eunuch, to get the women to safety. The queen and her women fled the seraglio, following close behind the Head Eunuch as he led them—some forty-five strong—through the curving stone corridors of the palace and into the vast underground cavern that would see them safely outside and to the docks. Hopefully there would be a ship waiting to take them to Akkadia.
But the invaders had been waiting in the cavern and the women were attacked, scattering to the four winds as glassy-eyed warriors attacked like scavenging beasts. The queen and two of her ladies-in-waiting had stumbled through an open door and into the corridor where they now hid. Where the second woman had disappeared to was anyone’s guess.
Easing her hand from her mouth, Lilabet reached out a shaky hand to touch the woman beside her. Without a word, both women got quietly to their feet, the lady-in-waiting helping her queen to stand. Silently, they eased down the corridor, careful not to make a sound.
It was damp and dank in the corridor and the horrid stench of spilled blood wafted over them. The floor was slick beneath their sandals, sticky between their toes as they waded ankle-deep through the congealing fluid. Broken bodies littered the pathway and the women stepped gingerly over the obstacles, knowing well that come the night, the dead would begin to stir.
A startled moan came from the woman at her side, and Lilabet looked to where she was pointing. Beneath the sputtering light of a dying torch, the sight was a grisly one.
Dead eyes wide, mouth open in a silent scream, Lady Dakhla was sprawled like a broken doll, her neck twisted, the flesh hanging in tatters where fangs had ripped eagerly into her throat. Lying near her was Lilabet’s daughter, Meritaten.
Meritaten had f
ared no better than her best friend Dakhla. Her gown had been ripped down to her waist and her breasts were bloody with puncture wounds.
The queen would have knelt beside her child, but her lady-in-waiting grabbed her arm and tried to pull her forward, away from the horrific find. When Lilabet resisted, her companion hissed beneath her breath and laid a firm hand on the protruding mound of the queen’s belly. The reminder of her unborn child stiffened Lilabet’s resolve and she nodded curtly.
Though she was loath to leave her daughter without one last touch, Lilabet understood the urgency of quitting the corridor and making their way into the bright sunlight. The door to the outside was still fifty feet away and that end of the corridor was devoid of light save the thin sliver of illumination that marked the portal’s header.
Stumbling over a corpse, Lilabet would have fallen had not her lady-in-waiting reached out to steady her. Something squishy—spongy and slick—coated the bottom of the queen’s sandal and she had to force herself not to retch. In her mind’s eye, she envisioned a human organ clinging to her foot and her bile grew hot and cloying in her throat.
From behind the women, a harsh rush of hot air buffeted their retreat and each turned, expecting a cadaver to loom up out of the darkness, but when Lilabet recognized her lover, Kaibyn Zafeyr, she could not stop the shriek of hopelessness that overcame her.
“Nay, Lady!” Kaibyn told her, holding his hand out in entreaty. “I am not one of them!”
Relieved that the man she had come to love so desperately—and rely upon so thoroughly—was untainted by the blood-drinkers, the queen threw herself into his arms.
“Oh, Kiabyn!” she cried, clinging to him. “Take us from this evil place!”
“Hold to me,” he said, soothing her back with his strong hand. “I will place you beyond danger.”
“Karmaria!” Lilabet cried out, reaching a hand toward her Lady-in-Waiting.
“Milady, what are you doing?” the lady-in-waiting cried, stepping back. “Why do you call the demon?”
Kaibyn snagged the other woman’s arm and in the blink of an eye, the three supernaturally fled the dark corridor, spinning like dervishes into the Void between space and time.
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