Unleashed by the Defender: A Kindred Tales Novel

by Anderson, Evangeline

  It might be a long shot, but it was definitely worth checking out.

  Thirty-One

  J’are’s eyes glowed dimly in the darkened corridor. The effect was a little scary, Imani thought—like the eyes of a wild beast stalking its prey. But she was glad to be able to see anything in the dimness.

  “Are you sure this is where she’d have her bedroom?” she murmured to J’are, keeping her voice down even though they appeared to have the entire top floor of the huge mansion to themselves.

  “Definitely,” he murmured. “The grandest bedchamber in the entire house is up here. Mother Hownow always slept in one of the smaller ones—she said it was more cozy and not so drafty during the cold months. But nothing but the best would do for Lady Bittlebum.”

  “It certainly sounds like she’s a social climber,” Imani said as they walked down the corridor, passing doorway after doorway, all of them elaborately carved and gilded.

  “Which was one reason Mother Hownow despised her,” J’are said, nodding. “She couldn’t stand anyone who pretended to be what they weren’t. She’d come from relatively humble beginnings herself and built an empire—whereas her niece only pretended to have one. Here—this is it.”

  He had stopped in front of a room which had a set of double doors, twice as high as Imani was tall. They were elaborately scrolled and carved with golden doorknobs.

  “Do you think it’s locked?” Imani asked anxiously.

  “Oh, I’m sure it is.” J’are seized one of the doorknobs and began to jiggle it in a deliberate way. “Luckily, I grew up in this house—I know how to get in and out of any room here.”

  As he spoke, Imani heard a faint click and the door abruptly opened.

  “And here we are,” J’are remarked as they walked into the room.

  It certainly was a grand bed chamber, Imani thought. It looked like something you might see in a palace. There was a vast bed with a high canopy, all decorated in rich gold brocade with rubies and emeralds worked into the pattern. The bedclothes were made of the same fabric and the pillows were each as long as Imani was tall.

  But it wasn’t the bed that interested her—sitting on a dressing table across from it, were seven or eight dummy heads, each one wearing an elaborate wig.

  Imani walked over to the dressing table, studying the wigs with interest. Some were high and puffy and some were sleek and straight but all were the exact same shade of lemon-yellow.

  “Well, at least she’s consistent,” she remarked, looking at the wigs. “They’re all exactly the same color.” She wrinkled her nose. “And they all smell kind of musty, too.”

  “That’s not the only thing with a bad smell in here,” J’are growled.

  Turning, Imani saw that he was holding a long black cloak with a hood in one hand.

  “What’s that?” She frowned. “I don’t smell anything.”

  “That’s because you don’t have a Kindred sense of smell.” He sniffed the black fabric and his eyes flashed an even brighter green for a moment. “This is stiff with dried blood—and not just any blood, Lady Zangelo’s blood.”

  “Oh my God!” Imani put a hand to her mouth. “You’re sure?”

  He nodded. “I’d recognize that scent anywhere. I woke up covered in it—remember?”

  “But why in the world would she keep the bloody cloak she was wearing when she, uh, killed Lady Zangelo?” Imani still just couldn’t believe it.

  “I told you—she thinks she can get away with anything. I’ve never met anyone more arrogant in my life,” J’are growled. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a vid of the murder somewhere around here, too. She’d keep it for a trophy to watch later and laugh at the fact that nobody caught her.”

  “Where would that be, I wonder?” Imani looked around the dressing table, which held other things besides the elaborate collection of wigs. There were also a number of pieces of jewelry displayed in a large velvet case. Some of the pieces looked too ostentatious to be real but knowing Lady Bittlebum, they probably were the genuine article.

  At random, she picked up a gold ring with a rounded, opalescent stone about as big as a large marble. She stroked the stone with her fingertip and was surprised when the top flipped open and a tiny insect, no bigger than a gnat, came buzzing out.

  “Oh! What in the word?” she exclaimed, swatting at it.

  “You found a spy fly, I see,” J’are remarked. “Leave it be—it will return to its home when it’s ready.”

  “A spy fly?” Imani frowned, but stopped swatting at the nearly invisible insect. “What’s that?”

  “A recording device,” J’are explained. “It flies all around and takes pictures which it stores and sends back to its home base. It can be very useful when you want to see what’s going on without anyone knowing you’re watching and recording them.”

  “Like a teeny miniature drone,” Imani murmured. “Interesting!”

  “It might have some critical information saved on it,” J’are said. “I say we take it along with the cloak and get back to the hotel where we can look at it more carefully.”

  “Good idea. Er…how do I get the, uh, spy fly back to his home base?” Imani asked, gesturing to the ring.

  “It will come back when it’s ready. Don’t worry about it—they always find their way home,” J’are told her.

  “Okay.” Imani shrugged and tucked the gaudy ring into the tiny pocket in the side of her dress. She was glad she had a place to put it—the outfit didn’t leave a bit to the imagination and there wasn’t much hiding space on it.

  “Now I just need to find something to wrap this cloak in and we can leave,” J’are remarked.

  “Oh, you’ll be leaving, all right. But not with that cloak.”

  Imani’s head jerked up and she felt a shiver of fear run down her spine.

  Standing in the doorway, flanked on either side by huge, pink morphids, was Lady Bittlebum.

  She had a blaster in one hand which she was pointing right at Imani’s head.

  Thirty-Two

  “I swear by all the Gods, if you try to hurt my female…” J’are took a step forward, putting himself between Imani and Lady Bittlebum.

  “Oh, I’m not going to hurt her—you are.” Mistress Bittlebum waved the blaster at them. “Now come out of there, both of you. And drop that cloak, Nightwalker.”

  J’are didn’t do as she asked. Instead, he stood there growling, the cloak still fisted in one big hand.

  “I said drop it!” Lady Bittlebum said sharply. “And don’t think about trying anything. I’ll blast a hole right through you and then my lovely morphids will tear that sweet little Defender of yours apart—just like they tore apart my dear old friend, Lady Z. Why, they ripped her pretty head right off!”

  Imani stared at her.

  “So you admit you were behind Lady Zangelo’s murder?”

  “Of course I was,” Mistress Bittlebum spat contemptuously. “And I had to do the dirty work myself, thanks to this big idiot.” She gestured at J’are. “When I inveigled Lady Z to buy him, I was certain he’d kill her at once. She was never very kind to her bodyslaves and I knew what a wild brute he was—especially at night.” Her eyes gleamed. “But the weeks went by and still she lived! Also, she was beginning to demand that I pay off my loans to her, which was most inconvenient.”

  “Wasn’t that after you stole J’are’s inheritance?” Imani demanded. “Didn’t you have the money to pay her back then?”

  “If I’d sold my new house, of course I did. But I wasn’t about to do that.” Lady Bittlebum sniffed. “Keep moving—get out of there and leave the cloak,” she added to J’are, who reluctantly dropped the dark cloak as he and Imani edged their way out of the bedroom with their hands raised.

  “So you killed her because you didn’t want to pay her back?” Imani thought it was best to keep the other woman talking—maybe it would also keep her from shooting.

  “Well, my morphids did,” Lady Bittlebum said. “I had to be there to direc
t them, of course—and to smear the blood on that big brute.” She nodded at J’are. “This way now—into this room here.”

  She was herding them down the hall and into a vast room much bigger than the grand bedchamber—a room which was completely empty with blank white walls and floors.

  It suddenly occurred to Imani that there was no way the wily Mistress would be confessing this if she intended to keep them alive. Maybe she had brought them into this bare room to murder them because the crime scene would be easier to clean up than in the fully furnished bedchamber.

  “If you kill us, the Kindred will be after you,” she said quickly. “They won’t stop until they get you!”

  “Oh, I don’t intend to kill you—no, no.” Mistress Bittlebum made a shocked face that looked a little too fake to Imani.

  “Then why are you telling us all this?” J’are demanded. “Why are you confessing?”

  “Well, for one thing, because I’m quite sure no one would believe you—especially now that you don’t have any evidence.” She turned to one of the morphids and spoke. “Go and burn that cloak—the one lying on my bedchamber floor.” Running her free hand—the one not holding the blaster—over her hair, she then brushed her palm over the giant insect’s twitching antennae and it bounded away.

  “So you’re not going to kill us because you think no one will believe us?” Imani asked doubtfully.

  “Exactly.” Lady Bittlebum smiled brightly. “But also because, by the time this night is over, I’ll have something every bit as damning on you as you have on me.”

  “What are you talking about?” J’are growled. “We’ve done nothing you can use against us in court.”

  “Oh, but you will. Before the night is over, you most certainly will.” Lady Bittlebum smirked at them unpleasantly. “You, Nightwalker, are going to commit the ultimate crime—the crime of penetration. And if my research about your kind is correct, you’ll be committing the crime of impregnation at the same time! And all with that pretty little Defender of yours.”

  “What are you talking about?” Imani demanded. “J’are’s not going to…to do that to me!”

  “And I’m not one of those damn morphids you order around. You can’t make me rape my Defender,” J’are growled.

  “Oh yes he is and oh yes I can,” Lady Bittlebum said, speaking to both of them. “Don’t you recognize this room, Nightwalker? It’s the simulation area my foolish aunt, Mistress Hownow, made for you so that you’d feel more at home in her house.”

  She snapped her fingers and suddenly the blank white walls and floor and ceiling were gone. In their place was a tropical jungle, complete with trailing vines, tall trees, bushy ferns, and sweetly scented tropical blooms. It was night in the forest, Imani saw, but there was still light coming from over head.

  Looking up, she saw three round, pale moons in the sky. One had a slightly reddish cast and the other two had a blue glow.

  J’are had looked up too and when he looked down again, she saw horror and fear in his pale green eyes.

  “No,” he said hoarsely to Lady Bittlebum. “You can’t do this to us! Don’t make me do this—please, just let us go and I swear we’ll never say a word about what we know!”

  “I’m afraid your oath isn’t good enough for me, Nightwalker,” Lady Bittlebum spat. “I don’t want to kill the two of you—it would invite entirely too many questions, especially since you would be last seen at my party. But I can’t have you blabbing either. So I require assurances.”

  “I…I don’t understand.” Imani shook her head and looked at J’are. “What assurances? What is she talking about?”

  “This is the room I told you about—the one Mother Hownow made to simulate my home world so I wouldn’t get homesick,” J’are said tightly.

  “Okay. So?” Imani shook her head again, still not getting it.

  “So, the three moons are in the sky,” J’are growled. “The Water Twins and the Blood Brother. If they converge, my feral side will think it’s Claiming night. Or worse—Bonding night.”

  “Bonding night?” Imani put a hand to her throat. “J’are, we can’t—”

  “I know!” he exclaimed. “I know that—which is why we have to get out of here!”

  “You’ll get out when the deed is done—not until,” Lady Bittlebum said coldly. “And don’t forget, I’m recording all of this.”

  She made a motion with one hand and the morphid beside her scurried to slam the door. There was a loud click and Imani knew they were locked in.

  “Oh no,” she whispered, looking up as the three moons got closer together. Their edges were touching now, forming a kind of triangle in the night sky. The pink moon was at the apex of the triangle with the two blue moons forming the base beneath it.

  “Fuck,” J’are muttered hoarsely—he was also staring at the moons. “Blood over Water.”

  “What?” Imani stared at him, her heart pounding. “What does that mean?”

  “Water above leads only to Love

  Water above and below, Claiming in the moons’ glow.

  But Blood over water, get ready to flee

  If you enter the jungle, it’s Bonded you’ll be.”

  J’are sounded like he was quoting some ancient piece of wisdom as he recited the strange poem. Imani felt a chill go down her spine.

  “J’are, please—you’re scaring me,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “What does all that mean?”

  “It means that Lady Bittlebum is playing the simulation of Bonding Night.” His deep voice was rough. “And I’m afraid when the three moons converge, my feral side will come out and try to Bond you, Imani.”

  “But you won’t let that happen, will you? You told me you could control your feral side!” Imani said quickly.

  “I’ll try.” He looked up at the sky again, where the three moons were now merging into one. The light they cast was no longer only reddish and bluish, a purplish tingle had entered the mix.

  “You’ll try?” Imani whispered. That didn’t sound good to her.

  J’are nodded grimly.

  “I swear by the Goddess I will. I’ll try with all my might to hold on to my thinking mind.” He looked down at his hands and then back to Imani again. “But I have to tell you, I’ve never heard of a Nightwalker who can hold back his feral side on Bonding Night when the three moons converge.”

  “What…what does that mean?” Imani asked, fear skittering down her spine like a cold, skeletal finger.

  J’are looked at her again, his pale eyes glowing like lamps in the dimness.

  “It means you’d better run,” he growled. “Run and hide like your life depended on it—unless you want to end the night bonded to me forever.”

  Thirty-Three

  For a moment Imani stood frozen, pinned by that pale green gaze like a deer trapped in the blinding glare of oncoming headlights. Then the paralysis that gripped her broke and she turned and ran—ran as hard as she could into the jungle.

  If she hadn’t been so terrified, she would have stopped to marvel at the reality of the scenery around her. The verisimilitude was complete, from the heavy, damp scents of the plants to the humid heat of the jungle at night.

  She felt like she was back in her home state of Florida, running through the Everglades at night. Only it wasn’t gators and snakes she had to watch out for now—it was the male she’d been sent to defend.

  The one who would track her down and breed her if she couldn’t get away.

  No, I can’t let him! I can’t! Imani told herself wildly. It wasn’t that she didn’t want J’are—she found him devastatingly attractive and part of her yearned to give in and give him what they both needed so badly.

  But if I do, that means giving up my future! Giving up my family and career—going to a distant planet where I don’t know anyone!

  She didn’t want that. She loved Earth and she loved her parents—it would devastate them to lose another child. She didn’t want to be stuck light years away from them—didn’t wa
nt to live out the rest of her days on a planet which had been quarantined because of the savagery of its inhabitants!

  One of which was chasing her now.

  Imani knew he was, because she could hear him crashing through the underbrush, not even trying to be quiet. It was as though he was so confident of catching her, he didn’t even feel he had to make an effort to be silent.

  There was a stitch beginning in her side and her breath was turning into ragged, panting gasps. Imani wondered wildly how long she’d been running. How big was this room anyway? How come she hadn’t reached a wall yet? Maybe a wall with a door? A way out? Was she just going in circles?

  She had no answers to her questions and it seemed like everything in the jungle room was against her. The branches whipped at her cheeks and the creepers tangled around her ankles and tried to trip her up and bring her down. It was as though the entire simulated jungle—which felt all too real—wanted her to give up and submit to her fate.

  No! Imani thought again. No, I won’t—I can’t!

  Doggedly, she ran on.

  Thirty-Four

  After she disappeared into the jungle, J’are stood still and held back the change for as long as he could.

  I can’t do this to her—I won’t! he thought, his fists balled at his sides as he struggled to hold the door of the cage he’d locked his feral side into closed. He gritted his teeth, his nails digging into the meat of his palms until they cut the skin and blood pattered down to the jungle floor. His breathing became heavy and labored as he struggled to resist the wild impulses inside. It hurt to hold back his feral side—hurt like all the Seven Hells.

  Despite the pain, J’are held fast. I love her! I won’t betray her—won’t take what she doesn’t want to give! he told himself desperately. I won’t—I won’t!

  But the moons were converging—the Blood Brother was covering the Water Twins. He felt the pull in his blood—the relentless, endless tide which dragged his thinking mind back to the savage, to the animalistic and wild side. The side which had only two functions—to kill and to breed. In the hole it had protected him, but now it would betray him—and betray the female he loved. He couldn’t let that happen!