Needle Rain (23 page)

“Ha!” Kengshee cried. “You’ve done it haven’t you? Duped the poor bastard. Let me loose! Let me see this!”

As he crawled past Kengshee, a booted foot thumped into his ribs but he barely acknowledged it. So close to her, nothing meant more to him than her touch.

“Look at that!” Kengshee purred. “Your new pet. Are they all like that?”

“No. The abstinence has undone him. Too much, too quickly.” She was smiling down at him. “Never mind. That can be remedied. Can’t it, Samos?”

She touched him, caressed his hair, and he shuddered, close to ecstasy. Though somewhere, deep inside, he knew, he knew...he knew, that this was wrong. Oh, how he knew.

Her lips moved. “Captain, take the pendant off the boy and throw it overboard.”

Fascinated, intoxicated, Samos wondered why there was sadness beneath her words. When she leaned over and studied his face, trailed a finger across his mouth, he licked and kissed her hand. “And now, Samos, carry me back to my bed.”

Yes, the command he’d been waiting for. He stood, found that he was stronger now, recovered from his shock, and he easily scooped her up in his arms. So light. So precious. As he strode past them the crew backed away, some cheering. Teo was silent and impassive, only Kengshee laughed. Beyond them, Joss stood, scratching his head and puzzled.

The door slammed open, banging against the wall. He entered and kicked it shut. In four strides he crossed the room and bent to lay her down on the bed. She clung to his neck, both arms wrapped around him and pulled him down. Nuzzling and kissing and licking with her tongue, she slowly headed south.

By then his own thoughts had returned to him and he understood what had happened to him, and had not the slightest wish to reverse it. He wanted her, wanted to plow her body hard and fast, wanted to make her cry with joy.

“Fuck!” He grabbed the back of her hair in one fist, pulled her away, and with his other hand tore away her shirt and shoved down her pants, baring her body. For a moment he stopped to admire the view. The long curvaceous body, full breasts, the muscles strongly formed, the smooth skin across her belly, the dip of navel, the triangle of hair. His nostrils flared. He could smell her properly again, after days of almost nothing. He ran his hand through the pubic hair and between her legs. Wet.

She smiled that half-smile of hers that barely touched her eyes. “Fuck? Exactly, Samos.” She spread her legs.

He pulled off his clothes and covered her, his mouth owning hers while at the same time he thrust and entered her.

****

Waking up in her bed this second time, he blinked and thought about the previous night. This was when he should run away. He should dive over the rail into the blue sea and never dare to come within a mile of Tatiana again. That was logic. But he wasn’t ever going to do that. He couldn’t.

Her hand lay across him and he slowly turned until he faced her and watched the slow rise and fall of her breasts and the light-brown areolae. Her breathing was clear of those liquid sounds that meant her lungs and heart were failing. Peeking out from her cleavage was the gold heart of the trinketton.

She was perfect.

Her eyes opened and he stared into those gray irises, rapt, gloriously happy. She yawned and stretched, making her breasts jiggle in a most disturbing way.

Yet something compelled him to speak. “You betrayed me.” Gently, he spoke, as if he asked the time of day. He didn’t want to disturb the peace of this morning. That she’d betrayed the Imperator too, that went without saying.

“Did I?”

“How? I thought I could tell if you lied.”

“But, I didn’t. I didn’t lie, Samos.” She reached out and curled a finger through his chest hair, bent her head and ran her hot tongue round his nipple.

“Yes, you did.” He gasped. “Why can’t I leave this time? You know I can’t, don’t you?”

“How many times, how many men do you think I’ve done this with? There are consistencies I could bet on. The power grows exponentially. And right now, you are mine.”

Between the lapping of her tongue and where her hand had strayed, his mind lost track of all but pleasure.

Until she looked up at him. “Oh, Samos...” To his surprise her eyes shone with tears. “I will miss you so when you’re gone.” She lowered her head again. He didn’t stop her this time as she slithered around and forged a path to his groin with her lips and tongue.

****

By mid-afternoon Samos was exhausted. Satiated. Full of the languor of more sex than he had ever imagined could happen in one day. Tatiana crackled with energy.

“Come.” She grinned at him, having bounced out of bed. “Get dressed. I have a meeting to attend. And you are coming. No pun intended.”

“I am?”

Samos almost groaned, but he was an Immolator and immune to fatigue.

Slowly he rose, rolling first onto elbow then sitting on the edge of the bed. The woman was insatiable. He knew why. He could see the results.

“Is this how it goes?” he croaked. “We screw and you light up like a lamp?” Funny how he could calculate and run down the paths of logic, yet do nothing about it. “And then, eventually, I die?”

Hopping on one leg, she dragged on those red leather leggings and laced them up. “Unless you want to be naked, get dressed. Here.” She picked up his clothes from the floor and tossed them over. “You want to know? This.” She spread the collar of her shirt down to her cleavage and tapped the disc of the trinketton. “Is beginning to activate. Once it’s ready, it feeds. What’s happened so far is only the start.” How calmly she stood, arms folded, reciting the means of his death. “My own ailing heart was the first that it consumed when the trinketologist let it loose. But it’s like oil in a lamp. It runs down and I can’t stop it from wanting to feed.” She hooked her thumbs in the top of her pants and stared at him through her saw-toothed fringe of hair. “I hate it. I hate what I have to do to survive.”

He sorted out his pants and shirt. “Sure you do. Then stop.”

“Hah! Stop? Oh, no, that won’t do. Then I’d die.” She stepped closer and ran a sharp fingernail down his chest. She leaned in and nuzzled his earlobe. He shivered. “And I don’t aim to die until I’ve made the Imperator hurt, a lot.”

So that was it. She blamed the Imperator. “That’s why you’re working for the Sungese? To get revenge on the Imperator?”

She bit his earlobe. “Clever boy. Now, I want you to listen, stand still, and don’t do anything naughty.”

The meeting was only a few feet away, in the main room of the cabin. Attending it were Kengshee, Captain Hujja Sadorey and two crewman, who stood either side of the outer door.  One was Sungese, one was from the crew of the
Freespear
. The table in the center was the one on which they’d first made love. That made it hard to concentrate.

Listen. She’d told him to listen.

Standing with her legs shoulder-width apart and a shot glass of brandy in hand, Tatiana coolly asked Kengshee to report.

“I have very bad news. The memory worm has not survived intact. It was crushed in the fighting.”

“You’re sure?” Tatiana’s forehead creased. To most she’d seem calm but to Samos the way her fingers tensed on the glass and the speed of her breathing told him the news had stunned her.

Kengshee nodded once. “Very sure. Alas. The lady trinketologist only gave up on rescuing any data from it yesterday. And without that...” He shrugged.

“We can’t fight through the Imperial ship blockade,” Tatiana continued.

“But I forget! Perhaps –” He swept a hand round to include Samos. “Perhaps, your pet Immolators could do it?” His gaze was insolent, creeping from Samos to Tatiana and slowly travelling up her body. “Perhaps you have some more of them packed away in storage?”

The man had designs on Tatiana. Samos tensed, but unless she gave an order he would do nothing.

She smiled. “A novel idea, Mr. Kengshee, but no, my two Immolators cannot take the place of a whole shipload of them. Besides, what would be the point? Without the recipe for Immolators, we have no reason to go to Sungea.”

They were going to make a whole shipload? Kengshee’s crew, it must be them, Samos decided. To simply convert people without selection made it certain many would be unsuitable. Many would’ve died. Did Kengshee not care? Or didn’t he know? But they had no worm so it didn’t matter. Despite everything, despite the haze of desire that clouded his mind, that pleased him inordinately. They had no worm. No data. No way to create Immolators.

“Why are you smiling, Samos?” Tatiana asked.

“Because...” Though he tried, his tongue betrayed him and he said it, the words coming out thick as treacle, “You have no worm. You have failed.”

“My, my, you do have a mind of your own, don’t you? Come here and kneel, Samos.” She crooked her finger.

He couldn’t disobey, and oh, he really didn’t want to. He knelt and she tilted his head up with a hand beneath his chin.

“That’s better. Now stay there while your masters talk.”

Kengshee watched them, eyes smoldering. He licked his lips.

“You like that, Mr. Kengshee?” she said.

“Very, very much. I can only imagine his performance in bed.” He paused as if to see if she would check him. “Though men alone do not interest me, what they do with women, does.”

“Hmm. You are a curious man, Mr. Kengshee, but we digress. There is one other source of the Immolator recipe that is free for the taking. Isn’t there, Samos?” She gave his hair a tug.

He mouthed the answer, quietly. Perhaps she’d forgotten, perhaps she didn’t remember. His thoughts, as defiant as he could steer them, ran willy-nilly through his head.

“Louder. Louder so Mr. Kengshee can hear.”

He closed his eyes. “Thom Drager also has the secret. Through Pela you know where he is.”

“Yes! Oh, yes. Precisely.”

“Where?” snapped Kengshee. “Where is that bastard! I’d have thought he was dead from the somm withdrawal by now.”

“The far north of Burgla’le. A small hop, skip and jump east from here, across the Million Isles. And no one else knows because my Samos’s girlfriend is tucked away under my surveillance. Isn’t that clever of me? Captain Sadorey!”

“Yes, Commander?”

“Prepare the
Freespear
. As soon as Mr. Kengshee has embarked as many of his men as we can find quarters for, we sail east as fast as is safe.”

The men left. Kengshee, the last of them out the door, sent a questioning look to Tatiana as if hoping to stay.

Once the door was shut, the air of superiority and self-indulgence fell away from her. She laughed. “Ah, Samos. Get up from there. You look ridiculous. Though gorgeous still.” She grasped his bicep with one hand. “Like a rock. Mmm.” Her fingers barely encompassed a quarter of the muscle.

He rose then leaned over to kiss her, mouth melting against mouth, her lips warming his, her body arching into him and putting delicious pressure on his cock. Panting, she pulled away, stopped short by the edge of the bench pressing against her back. “What did you think of Mr. Kengshee? I do believe we’ve hooked him.”

“What...” He bent and gently bit her neck, smelled her skin, wormed a hand down the back of her pants. “Do you mean?” His hand shaped to her curve and slid further.

Her voice was husky. “I think, he’d like to watch us.”

“Never!” he growled.

“Ah. Naughty. You can’t say no. Besides, I have my reasons. Good ones.”

It took all his willpower to put space between them. “What reasons?”

She chuckled and sucked her bottom lip, wetting it well before she whispered, “You’ll see. Now come here and let me lick you.”

She hooked her fingers into the front of his pants, using the bunched cloth as an anchor point as she lowered herself to her knees.

Quagga
– a type of riding or pack animal similar to a zebra in markings.

*****

Collecting bugs to feed the somm beetle had turned into a daily trek and when Mara saw what he was doing she asked him politely, in that small, firm voice of hers, if she could come too. Eventually, an entire squadron of smaller children had tagged along to help him look for bugs.

On the third day, his somm beetle disappeared in the undergrowth while he and the kids were marveling at some bright green and yellow caterpillars.

“Right! All of you back to the quadrangle while I search,” he commanded.

Bryan, a red-haired boy dressed only in drawstring pants, piped up, “Can’t we help you look?”

“No! Course you can’t! This thing is dangerous!”

“No they’re not, Mr. Noname.” Mara frowned at him. “I’ve never had one bite me, and there’re lots of them here.”

“You’ve never what? They bite. Now.” He pointed. “Back there, all of you!”

Bryan waved his hand in the air. “Found it! This it? Is this one yours?”

But it wasn’t. Somm beetles had small differences in the markings on their backs. Mara was right. There were beetles throughout the trees, camouflaged against the brighter flowers, doing nothing more than decimating the other bugs in their search for food. After all, the Clandom Forests were barely a few miles away and somm beetles were native to the area.

The next time Momma Abeywa arrived for classes, he waited until late afternoon, when she was packing up her chisels, and went to her.

“Excuse me.”

“Yes, crazy man? Are you going to delay me, because look up there.” She jabbed a finger at the sky. “Them clouds is going to dump rain on us all soon.”

“Uh, yes. Well, just a few questions. Let me help you.” He picked up the rest of her tools.

“Not long ones?” She scowled, tucked her blue shirt into her trousers, and indicated that he sit, before sinking to the ground and crossing her legs.

“No. Not long ones.” He pulled up a log seat for himself. “Um, the somm beetle.”

She twitched an eyebrow at him.

“Is it true they don’t bite, unless...unless you want them to?”

She smacked her lips together. “Yes.” She paused and eyed him as if wondering at his worthiness. “You seem to be a good man. I see how you are with the children. Not many of your people can say no to the somm once it gets you. The somm is used by seers to help us make decisions. We ask the ancestors which way to go.” She made her hand swim slowly forward, like a fish. “But, you must ask the beetle to bite you. It will not bite you if you do not!”

“Oh. Then I guess I asked it.” And he had, in a way. He’d wanted to see and speak to Ami so very much. “And it won’t bite the children?”

“No. Never. Unless maybe they sit on one. Or stick one up their nose.” She grinned, showing her red-stained teeth.

“Right. I’ll make sure they don’t do that.” He tapped his fingers on his knee a while. “Okay. My other question. Is it true your people somehow stop ghosts from coming here?”

“Yes. We do it for Omi. Is that all? I must go.” She rose, tucked her roll of tools under her arm.

We? Was she one of these seers? “But how?”

A cry went up at the gate. “Visitors! People coming!”

And Momma Abeywa waddled away.

“Come on.” She beckoned. “This one is for you.”

He didn’t ask her how she knew that, for there was only one visitor who could be for him. Heloise. He was one of the last to arrive at the opened gates. Omi looked over his shoulder and shot him a sidelong glance.

Through the gate rode a massively built man with the lead of a laden donkey tied to his saddle. Close-shorn dappled hair, gray breeches and shirt which bore no emblem, though his sword sheath was stamped with a purple spiky echidna. The debt collectors. Thom fought an impulse to shrink back into the shadows. The clouds above rumbled. Night and a thunderstorm were coming on fast.

Another horse ambled in, this one ridden by a young woman. Each time the horse swayed she seemed ready to fall from the saddle. Yet, though ill or exhausted, with eyes half-closed, she scanned the crowd. Thom felt her gaze lock on him. She sat up, both hands staying folded over the saddle pommel. The other man dismounted. Bull, that was his name, Thom remembered. Another hired thug from the debt agency.

Heloise stayed mounted and staring at him. Thom stared back. Emotions warred. Anger, dismay, fear, even an irritation that she had the impertinence to look so...so arrogant and expectant. He approached her slowly. Around her eyes were new-wrought lines and shadows and within the eyes themselves dwelt a fatigue that went deeper than mere physical tiredness. He felt the lines of power crossing within her that arose from the twenty-five needles he’d broken off inside. And he stopped and blinked. He could sense needles again.

With a grunt of resentment, Bull made as if to come between them, but she waved him back. She pressed a hand to her face and it was as if a spell had been broken. Thom wanted to see those eyes again, no matter how much they accused him.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

She took away her hand, chewed her lip, and he saw her lip quiver.

Gray eyes with the slightest hint of blue. Yes, they were worth seeing. What had she done to him? Been the bearer of bad news; led an attack on his clinic; and carried his only child into danger, even unto death. Yes, to all of those. Yet, he forgave her then and there. He could see now that most, no, all of it had arisen from his own actions. Even Leonie’s death. And he’d done far worse to her. A pang of remorse ran through him. If she’d yelled at him in those first seconds, chances were he would’ve said hard words back at her. And still, she said nothing.

He took a step closer, and bent his leg and slowly knelt in the dirt. “I’m so very sorry for what I did to you.”

Tears rolled down her face.

****

Heloise put her hand to her face again, covering her tears. How dare he be so contrite? Did he expect her to forgive him? For so long she’d dreamed of this meeting, of sticking her dagger in him. Seeing his blood. Dreams always did have a habit of not coming true. If she hadn’t been on the verge of collapsing she’d go over and at the very least slap him a few times.
Argh!

Showing weakness, to this man of all people!

Very well. She wiped her eyes. Willing her legs and arms not to shake, she dismounted. Bull jogged over and put an arm around her.

Thunder rumbled. The cursed storm had followed them half the day. With dusk almost on them the blackness of the cloud was hard to gauge but the wind was picking up. This storm wouldn’t miss them. A gust swirled her hair into her mouth and she pulled the strands away. She needed a haircut. It had grown during the past weeks to reach her shoulders.

Drager was still on his knees and it was getting dark very quickly.

He’d said sorry. What was he waiting for? Some sort of acknowledgement? How could a man so reasonable looking, so damned
handsome
with that long black hair, have done what he’d done?

With the approach of night, returned her awareness that ghosts might soon appear. This man had attacked her, driven his needles into her, and now he apologized and thought he’d set things right?

She glared, willing him to shrink away, instead he stayed, big and ever-so smug. No that was wrong, he was centered. He gave the impression a cart could drop on him from the sky and he’d not flinch.

And what else could he do, right now, except apologize? She looked at him, really studied him. It was obvious Thom Drager was somehow free of his addiction. There’d been a haggard world-weariness about him before and a brittle smartness that seemed ready to snap. Now he was human, softer, calmer.

A young girl weaved through the other children and wriggled her small hand between Thom Drager’s arm and body then leaned into him with her cheek. “You can get up now, Mr. Noname. The lady knows you’re sorry.”

Startled, Heloise paused as she limped past Drager. She drew in a breath then let it out without saying anything. With that little girl hanging off him, he looked like a father, not a traitor or a man of violence. A father.
Leonie
.

It was as if she’d been sluiced by ice water. Overhead the sky cracked with a jagged strut of lightning that pegged the sky to the land. The wind picked up more and cold rain sprayed across her skin. Typical. The weather decided to make a fuss on the day they met.

Leonie.
Thom Drager wasn’t the only bad person here.

She opened her mouth. Found her throat had closed over. She tried again. “You apologized, I guess that should go for me too.” That had come out so stupid. “What I mean is, I am sorry too. Your daughter, I tried to keep her safe, but I didn’t do it well. I wasn’t good enough. I will never
ever
forgive myself for her death. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” He raised his eyes to meet hers. Someone had brought lanterns. The light shone on tears that limned his lower eyelids.

A tear or two of hers trailed onto her cheek. This time she didn’t bother to hide it.

Leaves and dust scattered past, stinging her legs. The temperature was dropping fast and the wind howled, high and threatening.

“Come this way, miss,” said a man in a priest’s red robe. “I am Omi. Welcome.” Then his eyes lifted to see something behind her. “Not possible,” he gasped. “Not here!”

Without looking, she knew of what he spoke. He saw them, somehow. The ghosts came. As always, they approached with the lessening of the light. Sighing, she turned. Choosing time. Not something she wanted anyone here to see, yet here and now it would happen.

Only there were no ghosts. Just a squirming, half-human blot of darkness that crept like quicksilver up the sloping road. Deceptively fast; it left the eye behind. The twisted Thing. Frantic, she searched for others. Nothing. Where were the ghosts? Her heart beat against her sternum and up inside her throat, pounding like a prisoner on its door.

“Come!” screamed the priest. “There may be sanctuary inside. The Bloodmen’s ancestors protect this place!”

“No.” She shook her head, paralyzed by fear and the certainty that this time, escape was beyond her. But the priest and Bull took her arms and forced her to turn and run.

“That way! Not with us!” The priest directed the screaming children to the side to shelter in a long low building. Though certain they could not be seeing the ghostly Thing, the panic had spread to them and they ran, white-faced and with pattering feet.

Together with Bull and the priest, a plumpish Bloodwoman, and Thom Drager, Heloise fled to a large, A-shaped house, up the front steps and inside. They slammed the door. The priest carried a lantern. Held high, its swinging yellow light painted tortured shadows on the walls of the hallway.

“This way,” he said, hurrying along the hall and leading them into an open square room populated with bookshelves, desk, and chairs.

The high windows were glassed-in and rattled in the gusts. Within seconds rain battered against the panes, bleeding drizzles of water sideways across the glass in defiance of the laws of nature.

“You cannot hope to stop this thing.” Heloise gasped for breath and pressed her hand to her side. “Drager...” She cast a bitter glare at the man. He barely noticed, so engrossed was he in some other line of thought. “Has cursed me with it. I face it now whether I want to or not.”

As one they all spoke – the Bloodwoman, the priest, and Drager, only Bull was silent. The shouted words jumbled into confusion.

“Stop! One at a
time
! And, we may not have much of that.” She smiled thinly. A chair...she looked about, dragged one to her, and sat. Her muscles almost melted with relief. “I doubt if you can help me, but if you can, please, tell me.”

“Very well,” Omi said. “What is this thing? It’s not merely a ghost. It reeks of terror.”

“You can see it? How many of you can? All of you?”

Except for Bull, they nodded.

“What it is?” She clasped her trembling hands together between her knees. “I really don’t know. I fear it. It comes each night when the other ghosts come. Perhaps it too is a ghost?”