Due to yesterday's problems with the server... I am loading a second chapter today. --elle
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Chapter 75
Niebos
Madame Kouris knocked gently before entering with the dinner tray. Beneath her dark scarf, her dark eyes twinkled merrily. The patron had asked her to care for this child and this man. She would do so. They were a strange pair. The crippled man was evidently mad and had to be kept in restraints. Elena Kouris also thought she'd seen drugs in a bag near the bed.
"You will see strange things Madame," the patron had told her. "The child is in charge as long as the man lives. You must listen to her and do whatever she asks."
Elena Kouris had agreed. The patron was said by the elders to be connected to the old gods who'd once called this island sacred. Even her grandmother had spoken of him with awe. "As long as he dwells among us… we need never fear," her grandmother had said to Elena when she was a girl, barely as big as this child was. Elena had grandchildren now. She'd grown old on the island… aware that magic still seemed to dwell here… a magic neither she nor any inhabitant would ever mention to the outside world. "To tell the world… would be to bring about the end of the magic," her grandmother had warned her with a wink. So the inhabitants here said nothing. And the magic still protected them.
"Thank you," the tiny one said. Her Greek was passable, if a little old-fashioned.
Elena watched her set the tray on the small chest next to the bed and pull up the small wooden chair. She spoke quietly to the man. This must be a good day. He nodded and the girl began to break apart food for him to eat and fed him.
Elena watched for a moment more and then turned away, closing the solid wood door behind her.
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For Valeraine, the days since Phillip had left with Ursa and Denara had been filled with despair. Nothing seemed left of Nick at all. Even this tired and complacent man strapped to the bed did not seem to be him. Phillip had warned her to use her best judgment about releasing him… but Valeraine still feared to do so.
Nick made no wild gyrations… nor did he snap at her fingers hungrily when she fed him as he had done so at first. He seemed to simply be waiting… as if the thing within him was currently occupied somehow. But what remained was no longer Nick.
Valeraine shivered as she recalled the way he'd suddenly thrown himself at her and groped with a strangled snarl the night of the attack. She'd fought him off… but he'd kept coming… as if seeking death. That was when she realized that Nestor was using the Watchers' attack as a means to call attention to himself… to be free once more.
She'd cast away her sword and clung to him… desperately trying to keep him quiet… keep him from bringing anyone else. She'd endured the groping and the slobbering as she'd held to him and focused only on the memory of the Nick she'd first met… the charming young American expatriate… still a green immortal for all his bravado and strength. His longish brown hair and unshaven face had intrigued Valeraine… as had his sparkling eyes and his sense of humor. Valeraine had found it amusing to latch on to such a young immortal… given that she was the one who appeared to be so young and so helpless.
When the quickening that she'd later learned was Luke had erupted… Nick had redoubled his efforts… pawing at her insistently… desperate to be found. Somehow she'd managed. Valeraine still shuddered at the memories. And all the while she had wanted to kill him… to end his torment. Had it gone on much longer… she might have been tempted.
As it was… Phillip had arrived and dragged a wildly swinging Nick off of her and impaled him. Together they'd managed the restraints… getting him strapped down in his bed before he'd awakened and begun to struggle once more. He'd kept it up for several hours.
Only after Phillip had left with the others had Nick calmed down, as if finally accepting the situation… that Valeraine would never let him free. Only then had he quieted. Now he seemed withdrawn. Valeraine knew it was simply the calm before the next storm.
His palm rose slowly in the restraint and lay softly on her arm.
Valeraine pulled back. For a moment… it was Nick once more… trying to let her know. Then a hard smile crossed his face and a hum erupted from his throat. Nestor was back… and in control… and he didn't care if she knew. The palm reached for her again… sliding along her arm like a snake. Then it dropped to her leg and began rub her inner thigh.
Valeraine pushed it away. "You must not be hungry. In that case… maybe we'll read for a while." Scooting the chair back she reached for the next book in the stack and opened it to the first page. This was a long one… and it was in English… Nick's first language. "Chapter One… I am born," she began.
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He tuned her out. This one was easy. She read in a modern language that the host body was familiar with… but one he did not really know.
He could be patient. He'd learned patience over the millennia. She'd have to take a break eventually. He'd work on the mortal woman then. Meanwhile, he used the time to worry away at the mind of his young bride. He hadn't been able to finish with her… to make the connection permanent… but it had been enough to link her to him once she'd died and had become immortal. He could whisper in her dreams now and send her images of glorious carnage. Eventually she'd strike out and condemn herself before the others. Eventually… she would be drawn to find him. At that time… she'd kill him to be rid of him and then she would become him. Nestor would be beautiful once more… and he would engineer the endgame. Even now she slept. He focused on a particularly lovely image of one of his early kills. She was so close… soon… she would join him of her own free will.
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Paris
Alisaunne moaned within her dream as the blood from the gash pooled like ruby droplets on the stone floor. The knife was cool in her hand. She reached forward to dip her fingers into the cooling blood and felt the slickness of the fluid. She raised her fingers to her face and ran them along her throat. "Lick them… taste it," the voice oozed. "So rich… there's nothing like it. Bathe in it… drink your fill."
"No!" She struggled out of the dream and sat up shuddering. She buried her face in her hands and began to sob. She felt Amanda sit beside her and hug her. But it wasn't Amanda she wanted. Shrugging her off, Alisaunne rose and paced the room… looking about. "Where's Duncan?"
"He went to get us some food." Amanda sat back on the couch, eyeing Alisaunne evenly. "Who haunts your nightmares?"
Alisaunne's head snapped up and she hissed at Amanda. "What do you know?"
"I know what Nestor did to you… what he wanted to do to me… what killing him did to a friend of mine." Amanda shrugged. "Maybe it would help to talk to another female. As I understand it from Duncan… you've been with him and Ian since becoming immortal. I just thought you might just need a shoulder to cry on."
Alisaunne glared at her. "I need no one's shoulder. Duncan has trained me to be an effective killer. That's what all of this is about… isn't it? Killing one another?"
Amanda's eyes widened. "Perhaps. But from my perspective of almost twelve hundred years… it's more about living… and continuing to live."
Alisaunne blanched. "Twelve hundred… years?" She sat heavily in one of the chairs. "Could anyone live so long?"
"I'm not the oldest. There are several older than I am." Amanda offered a little smile and a shrug. "We survive by being very, very careful."
"How old was Nestor?"
Amanda shook her head. "I don't know for certain. The body he was using came from a battle about two thousand years ago. I was told the immortal who took him was very young. My friend, the one who killed Nestor a few years ago, was also very young."
"Duncan said when we die… that's it. When we lose our heads, it's all over. How can he still exist?"
Amanda shifted. "I take it Duncan never explained dark quickenings to you?"
"He mentioned them… but he seemed uncomfortable with talking about them."
Amanda leaned forward. "He's had personal experience with one. Overcoming it was a testament to his sense of self and strength of character. Usually… no one dares take the chance."
"Duncan was like Nestor?"
Amanda straightened, running a hand through her short dark hair. "I didn't see him then. He's never really talked to me about it. He remembers it all… and I think it worries him. Nestor taunted him at the end… that the darkness was still there, that all he had to do was reach for it."
Alisaunne sat back thoughtfully. Was this the dark attraction she'd felt for him since the beginning? He had been touched by the darkness of evil as she had been. He'd fought free of it… but it was still there… smoldering beneath the surface. Did he sense the darkness welling up in her… and wish to possess it? She closed her eyes and thought of how he'd felt yesterday leaning against her and consoling her. She licked her lips. "Where's your friend now?"
Amanda shook her head. "I don't know for certain. But Alisaunne… he cannot hurt you. Not now."
Alisaunne smiled. His hurting her was not a worry. But she'd have to find him… kill him… and consume him. She knew that now. In order to be free of him… she'd have to consume him.
At that moment, Duncan returned with a bag of fast food, newspapers, and maps. "Good," he said with a smile, "you're up. Let's eat, and then we need to make some plans."
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Within the dream
Carl Robinson was tired of running. He'd been running through the swamps for longer than he could remember. Behind him the sounds of the baying hounds and the angry Klansmen punctuated the night. Slipping on the muddy bank he fell once more into the brackish water. He counted to three and then rose once more with determination and began to run through the water once more.
Before him was more swamp. In fact… Carl could almost swear that although he'd been running in a straight line, he'd passed this stand of trees before. Pausing, he considered climbing the bank and exploring the trees. Something was amongst them… something he needed.
The sounds behind him closed in again… louder and more urgent. Carl snarled back at them. He had to get away. He moved powerfully through the knee-high water… swinging his arms back and forth as he ran. He was so tired of running… but what else was there?
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Watcher Compound
"He still refuses to enter the scenario. He's too caught up in his fear," Wilderman managed to say.
Rawlins glared at him. "Next time… force him in."
"I've told you before… sometimes their nightmares are stronger than any scenario I can devise. He knows that he needs what's there… but his fears keep causing him to run. Already his vitals are weak. He'll die before much longer."
Rawlins shrugged. "And then he'll regenerate… and we'll start again." He rose and came within an inch of Wilderman's face. "I want results. Force the issue… make him enter the game." Rawlins' eyes narrowed with hostility. "He's shown the most aggression of all of them… I want him in the game."
Wilderman swallowed and nodded. This job was getting worse all the time. He nodded at Claire. "Bring him around to the gateway again… I'm going to try a different drug combination." He busied himself with the vials and a syringe, and when Claire indicated that Robinson was coming around once more… Wilderman injected the new drug solution into the IV and ran it full open. The results were astounding.
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Within the Dream
Carl fell forward into the water. A huge sonic boom and a white-hot fire that singed the earth silenced the sounds of the hunt behind him. The clothes were burned from his body… and he felt as if he were on fire. Carl stood in the sizzling water and stared at his glowing hands.
To his right… in a stand of trees a siren's song that spoke of cool water and joy wavered on the air. Slowly Carl looked back at the burnt landscape. He alone remained. The Klansmen had been destroyed… and he would now claim the prize that awaited him.
He climbed the bank and entered the copse of trees… seeking the source of the music… and the light that had saved him… the light which had chosen him… to be the one.