The words died on her lips. For a moment she could have sworn she saw a pair of eyes behind her in the mirror. Red eyes.
She whirled around, her heart pounding, to see…nothing.
“Of course it’s nothing. There’s no one here but me.” The sound of her own voice made her jump and Lauren put a hand to her chest to still her beating heart. It was time to stop being silly and get down to business. Today she had a brand new recipe she wanted to try out—a strawberry hazelnut with cream cheese frosting. She’d tried a small batch in the kitchen in her condo and they had come out nicely but—
Suddenly there was a popping, humming sound like electricity and the air around her seemed to be full of lightning. Every hair on her head stood on end and her nerves twanged like plucked strings. Danger—you’re in danger! an inner voice shouted. The voice of instinct—the same primitive voice that must have warned the cavemen when a fire or flood was on the way.
Lauren wanted to run—tried to run—but everything happened too quickly. The crackling electrical charge seemed to close around her, like a vast hand, and suddenly she felt herself dissolving. Looking in the mirror she could almost see it happening in slow motion—her body had been broken into a million tiny particles that were all vibrating against each other in deadly harmony. Her clothes, however, remained unaffected. In fact, they fell away from her, landing in a heap on the floor.
No! No, what’s happening?
There was no answer but suddenly she saw the eyes in the mirror again. Red eyes—blood red and laughing at her pain, her fear. She could almost feel the evil in that crimson gaze—the intent to cause harm—the desire to wound and mutilate and kill.
Before she could think anything else, the tiny white tiled bathroom of The Sweet Spot disappeared and she felt herself flying through the air in pieces. It was the most bizarre sensation she had ever felt in her life—as though someone had put her entire body through a cheese grater and shot the results into the air at supersonic speed.
I’m dying. This is dying, right?
Again, no answer. But suddenly she felt herself reforming—all the tiny particles finding their places and sticking together again. Oh, thank God! She felt her arms and legs frantically, making sure she was all in once piece. She was naked but she was whole and at least nothing seemed to be missing.
“Here ssshe isss at last. Sssee, my ssson, ssshe bears the mark. The mark the prophesy ssspoke of.”
A long, skeletal finger suddenly appeared in front of her and pointed between her breasts. Lauren looked down to her small, pale birthmark reflexively—it was shaped like a star and stood out against her creamy brown skin. She’d always had it and never even thought about it anymore, though it looked strange when she wore a bikini.
A feeling of dread filled her as she looked up, up, up the long arm clothed in billowing cobwebs and into the burning red eyes she’d seen in the mirror.
“Yesss,” hissed a voice Lauren knew she’d been hearing in her dreams for the past few weeks. “Yesss, ssshe isss the one. At last I have her. Ssshe isss mine.”
Chapter Four
Kat was flying again but this time she wasn’t looking down at herself. Instead she was hovering inside a narrow stone tunnel. There was a faint light at one end that illuminated the pinkish brown stones and she could hear footsteps coming, echoing down the long enclosed corridor. Who’s coming? Will they see me?
Looking down, she realized she couldn’t see herself. She was silent and invisible again, just as she had been before. Maybe I really am dead and this is my funeral. But why would they bury me in a cave? For some reason the thought held no fear, only fascination. Then the echoing footsteps grew louder. Kat pushed her morbid musings aside when she saw who was coming down the tunnel.
A massive male—she couldn’t really call him a man because there was nothing human about him—was leading the way. He had pinkish mottled skin and he was wearing a loincloth of large, flat leaves. In his hand he carried a fiery silver whip that snapped and crackled as though it was made of lightning.
What the hell? The question was driven out of her head when she saw someone familiar following the huge male. Deep was shirtless, his muscular chest gleaming in the light cast by the strange whip. Kat could see the silver light reflected in the black pools of his eyes too, which were otherwise completely impassive.
“So this is the Stone Throat, eh?” he said to the giant who only grunted noncommittally. “I’ve heard of this place. Never thought I’d see it in person. Not that there’s much to see.”
The enormous male didn’t even grunt this time. He just passed through the stone hallway, ducking his head to avoid hitting the ceiling where Kat was still hovering in her invisible form.
For some reason, she felt a stab of fear. What’s going on? What are they going to do? Without making a conscious decision to do it, she found herself gliding noiselessly after them down the stone corridor until they came to a thick green wooden door. Deep’s guide grasped the tarnished silver ring in its center and pulled it open easily though it looked immensely heavy to Kat.
The door swung to one side revealing a vast, round room made of the same brownish-pink stone as the corridor. The ceiling curved up but instead of forming a perfect arch, it elongated into a tall stone chimney far above. From that small opening, a perfectly round spot of sunlight streamed down to rest on the floor at the exact center of the room. It illuminated a rough obelisk of white stone streaked with reddish-brown mineral deposits.
The obelisk was at least ten feet tall and it pointed up toward the chimney like a jagged, accusing finger. Kat saw that someone had affixed two thick, rusty rings in its center. A feeling of cold dread filled her when she saw the thick chain running through the rings. What went on in this room? Why would anyone need to be chained to the strange white obelisk? She was horribly afraid but she didn’t want to let herself acknowledge it.
“Will you be chained or will you stand?” The huge male’s voice was high and almost effeminate but it echoed eerily in the vast chamber.
“I’ll stand.” Deep went to the obelisk without hesitation. Facing it, he gripped one of the rusty rings in each hand. His broad, muscular back presented the perfect target. “I’m ready.”
Ready for what? Oh dear God, please no! Kat didn’t particularly like Deep—in fact, she thought he was kind of a jerk. He made her more uncomfortable than anyone else she’d ever met in her life. But no one deserved to be whipped with that hissing, crackling silver whip. There were freaking spikes on the end of it, for God’s sake. Was it some kind of punishment Deep was about to be subjected to? But what had he done? And who had decided he had to be punished?
“Ready yourself,” the other male advised, raising the whip.
“I said I was ready.” Deep’s voice held not a trace of fear—only irritation.
How can he not be afraid? What’s wrong with him?
Kat watched in horror as the massive arm rose and the whip cracked, lashing around Deep’s ribs with a hungry hiss. Deep made a similar sound himself—a low hiss of pain—as the barbed silver tongues bit into his flesh, but no other noise escaped him.
The giant yanked the whip back, splattering crimson droplets against the white obelisk. Suddenly Kat understood that the brownish red streaks on its rough surface weren’t mineral deposits. Blood, my God, it’s blood! He’s bleeding! Stop it—stop!
But the whip rose again, ready for another blow. “Scream,” the huge torturer advised. “Release your pain into the Throat.” He nodded at the stone chimney above. “It will make the agony less.”
“Don’t want it to be less,” Deep growled. “Just get on with it, damn you.”
“As you wish.” The whip cracked again, biting and tearing the smooth, tan skin of Deep’s back, shredding it to bloody ribbons. He barely flinched.
No! Nooo! Kat tried to shriek but no sound came out. Deep didn’t cry out either. He stood at the obelisk, grasping the rusty rings in a white-knuckled grip, his jaw clenched and
Kat felt like she was going crazy. Rushing at the giant, she tried to grab his hand and keep the whip from falling again. But she was helpless to stop him—helpless to even touch him. It was as though she was trapped in a bad dream, one which she couldn’t wake up from.
Please, she begged silently as invisible tears fell down her cheeks. Please, please don’t. Please stop hurting him…
But nothing she said or did made any difference. The whipping went on and on…and on.
* * * * *
“She’s crying.” Lock looked down at Kat’s still-sleeping face in alarm. “Look, tears are running down her cheeks.” He cupped her jaw and brushed them tenderly away with the pad of his thumb.
“So she is.” Mother L’rin didn’t sound unduly worried.
“But what does it mean?” Lock looked at her anxiously. “What’s happening to her?”
“A bad dream, perhaps. I’m more concerned with what’s happening with that brother of yours.” Her wrinkled face creased in a frown. “I haven’t heard a single scream.”
“That’s because Deep won’t scream. He won’t give in to the pain that way.” Lock wiped Kat’s other cheek gently. “He’s too damn stubborn.” He closed his eyes. “I can feel his pain but he won’t share it with me—he’s closed tight, turned inward.”
Mother L’rin shrugged her bowed shoulders. “His choice. If he’d release the pain into the Stone Throat it would dissipate much more quickly.”
“I tell you, he won’t scream. He’d probably rather die.”
“He won’t die.” The old woman spoke with certainty. “That would put your life in danger as well and I wouldn’t do that, Lock. But he may well wish he was dead by the time the whipping is over.” She looked at him. “Are you wishing you could take his place?”
“Yes.” Lock swiped away tears of his own, blotting them angrily on his deep green uniform sleeve. “He doesn’t deserve this. He thinks he does, but he doesn’t. I know he’s a bastard a lot of them time but he’s my brother and I love him.”
“Of course you do.” Mother L’rin’s voice was suddenly softer and she laid one wrinkled old hand on Lock’s arm. “Never fear, you’ll both come out of this alive.” She looked grim. “I just wish I could promise the same for your lady Kat here.”
“Please.” Lock felt as though his heart was breaking. “Can’t we save her? Won’t it be easier for her now that Deep has taken her pain?”
“She’ll still be weak and even if you managed to complete the soul bond with her the pain may return in time.” Mother L’rin frowned. “You’ll need to take her someplace quiet and let her rest for a little while before you attempt that.”
“Of course. Deep will be in no shape for any kind of bonding activity for awhile anyway.” Closing his eyes again, Lock could feel the echoes of his twin’s agony. But Deep was still shut tight, conserving every ounce of his strength to bear the pain.
“His wounds will heal fast,” Mother L’rin predicted. “Lashes inflicted with psychic pain always do and Twin Kindred are quick healers anyway. The strokes hurt three times as much as physical wounds but they mend three times as fast as well. When Deep’s back is mostly healed, then you may attempt to finish your soul bond with the lady Kat.”
“And after we do? What then?”
“Bring Kat back and let me examine her.” Mother L’rin put a withered hand on Kat’s shoulder. “I’ll tell you what to do then if she survives.”
She has to survive. Please, Mother of All Life, let her survive, Lock prayed fervently. Do not let my brother’s sacrifice be in vain. Do not let the pain he feels count for nothing.
Kat was crying again. Tenderly, he wiped the tears from his cheeks, wishing he could ease her pain, wishing he could share Deep’s agony. But he was shut out from both of them—unable to help either of the people he loved.
Lock had never felt more alone.
Chapter Five
The human female was troublesome.
It annoyed Xairn the way she cried when he came near her. Later, when he offered her no harm, she began to talk to him and that was even worse.
“Please,” she whispered the third time he brought her food and water. “Please, I’m so cold. It’s freezing in here and I don’t have any clothes.” She was huddled in a corner of the bare nine by nine metal cell she was being kept in. Her knees were drawn up to her chin and she had her arms wrapped around her legs but even so her smooth, light brown skin was covered in chill bumps.
“It is the AllFather’s wish to keep you as you are,” Xairn said stonily. “I only obey his orders.”
“But you’re not like him.” She leaned forward, her eyes wide.
At least they aren’t green. Instead they were a brown so light it was almost golden. Amber, maybe. Xairn shook his head. “You’re wrong. I am exactly like him. I am his son.”
“That doesn’t matter. You may have his…his eyes…” She swallowed nervously. “But you don’t feel like him.”
“I haven’t laid a hand on you. Nor will I.”
“I didn’t mean feel in a physical sense.” She picked up one of the nutra-wafers he’d pushed over to her and began to nibble it. “I meant, whenever he’s near me I sense this…this evil. Hatred, malevolence—call it whatever you want, but he carries it with him like a cloud. With you…” She shrugged and took another nibble. “I don’t feel that.”
Xairn thought of telling her she would soon feel a great deal more. The AllFather was only abstaining from taking her until he reached his peak, when his seed would be most potent. It was only a matter of days—weeks at the most—before this human female became the new mother of the Scourge race.
She would probably lose her mind in the process.
It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.
“I am his son,” Xairn repeated, not having anything else to say. “I obey his commands and do his bidding.”
“Not always,” she said softly. “Yesterday I told you I was hungry. Today you brought me three of these cardboard pop tart things instead of just one.”
Xairn frowned. “I have to keep you in good physical condition for the AllFather. I have been charged with your wellbeing.”
“Still, I want to thank you.” She looked at him earnestly. “Maybe someday I can return the favor.”
“You will never be in a position to do me any favors.” Xairn turned to go.
“Please…” Her voice tugged at him for some reason and he looked over his shoulder.
“What is it? I have other duties besides you to attend to.”
“I’m cold,” she repeated. “If you could just bring me some clothes. Or even a blanket.”
“Your constant complaints are annoying.” Xairn reached under his chin and unfastened the black cloak he always wore. It was cold on the Fathership—not that any of the vat grown soldiers noticed. Finding a new cloak would be difficult, if not impossible—he’d bought this one by chance from a clothier on a fringe colony. Still, he told himself, being a little chilly was better than listening to her whining. “Here,” he said and tossed it to her.
“Thank you.” She reached up to catch it and he caught a glimpse of her full breasts and berry brown nipples, tight with cold. The sight bothered him for some reason but he didn’t have to see it for long. She huddled quickly beneath his cloak, pulling it tight around her. “I really mean it, thank you so much,” she said.
“Keep your thanks,” Xairn said coldly. “I’ll get the cloak back when the AllFather is through with you.”
She drew in a sharp breath and her large amber eyes filled with fear. Xairn didn’t wait to hear if she had anything else to say. He slammed the heavy plasti-steel door and keyed in the lock code.
The girl was nothing to him. Nothing.
But as he walked down the bare metal corridor, he couldn’t help thinking that amber was almost as troubling a color as green.
Chapter Six
Kat was floating.
Not in the disembodied sense. This time she could feel her body, her limbs heavy with unspeakable exhaustion, her skin tender to touch. She wasn’t fully aware of her surroundings but one thing was clear—someone was taking care of her.
Gentle hands lifted her into warm water and strong arms held her securely while someone else washed her hair. The sensations were so soothing she wanted to drift away to sleep. But I am asleep, aren’t I? If not, why can’t I wake up?
The same hands dried her off and put a straw between her lips. Kat sucked reflexively and a delicious, fruity flavor that seemed to be a cross between watermelon, strawberry, and some other fruit she couldn’t name filled her mouth.
“That’s right, my lady,” a deep, somehow familiar voice murmured. “Drink deeply. Nourish yourself. It’s almost time to attempt the bond.”
What bond? Kat wanted to ask, but she was stuck, held in the same, strange limbo she sensed she’d been in for days. Was it a coma? They said that people in comas retained some consciousness and heard everything that was said to them. But would she be able to drink from a straw if she was truly unconscious? Kat didn’t think so. It was all very confusing.
She finished the drink and someone fluffed a pillow behind her head and drew a light blanket over her naked body. “Sleep now,” the familiar voice murmured. “I must tend to my brother. He’s almost healed so maybe next time…”
But he didn’t finish what he was saying.
“Next time what?” Kat wanted to demand. But she felt so warm and comfortable she couldn’t be bothered to form the words. Instead she slid into darkness and let herself dream.
* * * * *
“You’re healing well.” Lock eyed the broad expanse of his twin’s back critically. “Of course, there will be scars. Extensive scars, I’m afraid.”
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