Number of the Beast (Paladin Cycle, Book One) (8 page)

“
Madness!” Prefect
Cauldrick’s face flushed with crimson. “How could you know such
things without having consorted with devils?”

“
The other genuine Twin
will be revealed...in short time.”

Four healers rushed past, robes red as
blood. They knelt around Rourn, checking vitals, as if they had not
already concluded the Twin was no more.

“
On what authority do you
proclaim this lunacy?” Cauldrick asked.

With the hook of his staff
dangling from his wrist, and his arms over his head, Cai cast his
wide-open eyes skyward and proclaimed, “By the authority of the
Dark Trinity!”

Concealed amongst a flock
of bl ackbirds, Isaac soared across the evening sky. Obeying the
call of his Mother’s shrine that served like a lighthouse, he flew
westward until he reached a gated community near the province of
Houston.

A modest four-story
mansion sprawled over a twenty acre estate. In the center was an
open stone courtyard. Galmoria’s sculpture glowed with a purple
mist.

Still masked by the birds, he alighted
and set down on the circle drive. Now that Isaac morphed into
humanoid form, the flock of escorts returned to the sky.

He
entered the front door and stepped into a foyer large enough to
serve as a banquet hall. His loyal wraith servant Ira had furnished
the interior with his treasures from kingdoms and realms across the
stars, using her inherit wraith powers to pull inanimate objects
through the voids. Several slender white snake-like skins of
yag-yagts hung like wall art. And
an enormous
gorgon rat’s skull was mounted above the corridor’s threshold. The
ashen skull blended spectacularly with the dark marble walls rimmed
with almond trim.

Isaac admired the mounted
rat skull as he recalled the last time he had encountered one of
the ancient beasts from the barren lands on Pelodrimch—a fierce
beast whose acid saliva had nearly cost Isaac his face, leaving
behind a splotchy scar along his right cheek. But the meat of a
gorgon rat was more succulent than a human’s first born
child.

The wraith Isaac had
acquired nearly two centuries ago floated toward him. Her nude
silhouette hovered above the stone floor. “Evening,
Master.”

“
Food.”

“
Of course.”

Isaac followed her down
another long corridor and into a spacious dining area. When she
disappeared into a neighboring room, he ran a finger along the long
cherry wood table which he had acquired from the last king of a
Brimstrahdt clan nearly a century ago, days before the king’s
assassination by the Reingar Legions, the king’s own nephew’s
army.

Ira returned, rolling a
dinner cart with a raw female child strapped to it. The child’s
tongue had been removed which pleased Isaac. The small girl could
only protest with wordless utterances. Otherwise, her pathetic
pleading would grow tiresome and sour his stomach.

Chandelier light reflected
off Ira’s scalp as she stood beside the table. “I have stocked the
freezer with the freshest of meats. The master bedroom’s closet is
full with plenty of garments of this world and era.” She gestured
to a stack of neatly folded clothes on the edge of the
table.

Clothes. A temporary annoyance he
would be forced to endure before returning to his lair.

Isaac’s gaze slid down
Ira’s naked body. His finger traced her inner thigh until it
stopped at her hairless groin. “Continue.”

“
Your private sanctuary
has been prepared as you instructed: third floor, west wing, fourth
door on the right. Your Mother’s altar has been constructed. It is
located in the courtyard.”

“
You have done well,”
Isaac said.

“
This was once my home
world. I am very pleased to have returned.”

“
Turn around.”

“
Yes, Master.” Ira turned
and braced her palms on the wall.

He positioned himself
behind her and pressed his erect penis against her naked backside.
He gripped her hips, steadying her as he thrust into lithe folds.
The black specks in his Narkush stone turned ruby once again as he
shoved inside her phantom but corporal sex. She eternally smelled
of fresh lavender and felt like silk petals, unappealing. But she
was tighter than any living creature he had ever fucked, so he
tolerated the lack of primal aspects.

Claws grew from his fingers. Pools of
frothy saliva oozed from his snarling lips.

Ira dipped her head to the
side, opening herself for him. She panted and whimpered, squealing
like a helpless hare.

His teeth bit into her
cold, spongy shoulder. His body shook when his seed exploded into
her phantom womb. Claw marks were left etched into the wood
walls.

Isaac
tore away from his wraith and turned toward the child on the
serving tray. He bore his canines and licked her tear-stained
cheek. But she did not move. Not so much as a flinch.
Pathetic.

How he longed for the hunt
and detested being fed like a caged animal.

A light knock resounded from the
foyer.

Isaac snorted and snatched
slacks from the table. Claws retracted as he stepped into the
pants. He strode down the long hallway. Ira followed. Isaac opened
the front door and was greeted by a slender human female with dark
hair and glasses standing on his doorstep. “I’m Waverly, head of
the subdivision management committee.” She extended her tiny
manicured hand.

Isaac waited.

The woman nodded and let her hand fall
to the side. Her gaze drifted past him and found Ira. Naked.
Smiling. Recently fucked.

The human’s complexion
flushed red. She played with the hem of her white shorts, diverting
her attention back to him. “Just stopped by to welcome you and your
wife to the neighborhood.”

Isaac said, “Ira is my
oath bound servant.”

Waverly grimaced. “I see.
Yes, well, I’m not one to judge. This is a friendly community and
we welcome all kinds and accept all lifestyles.”

Isaac waited.

She shuffled her feet and
fidgeted with her bare arm. “I hate to trouble you any more than I
already have, but have you seen my little girl? Her name’s
Madeline.”

A low growl vibrated in
his throat. “No.”

“
Well, if you see her will
you please tell her to hurry home? She’s got black hair, blue
eyes—”

Isaac slammed the door.

With a crooked finger, he
motioned Ira closer. When she neared, he slipped his finger under
her chin, lifting her head. He looked into her pale face. “You have
done well.”

Ira smiled. It was the
same sincere gesture she had always given after receiving praise.
His attention returned to the child on the cart. “Take it to Sacred
Oaks and release it so that I may hunt it.”

“
As you command, Master
Isaac.”

The Rising Bull was a square warehouse
of a building nestled right off the highway. A wooden corral
surrounded the side and a large gateway led to the parking lot.
Mounted above the gateway was a big red longhorn skull with heavy
duty chains wrapped around the horns. One eye socket was a bright
yellow bulb and the other remained hollow. Sick’em, the Rising
Bull’s mascot, glowed against the darkened sky, enchanting all who
met his gaze. And Carmen was bewitched every time she saw
him.

The place was slap full,
so Carmen parked in the back. She patted Amy on the knee and said,
“Time to cut loose.” Without waiting for a response, she stepped
from the car and shimmied her short black dress down her thighs.
Cowgirl hat straightened, she cupped her breasts, giving the girls
a quick lift. And for the final primp, she ran her fingers through
her black hair and fluffed.

As Amy rounded the front of the car,
Carmen entwined her arm with Amy’s. She just needed to get a few
drinks in the girl and maybe Amy’s bad day would be a distant
memory. Arm-in-arm, they headed toward the bar’s
entrance.

“
Get ready to put yourself
two sheets to the wind and drink your worries away,” Carmen
said.

With a small smile, Amy
nodded.

Carmen stopped and twirled
Amy to face her. She stomped her heel on the gravel lot.

Amy shrugged.
“What?”

“
You better not let that
damn rat ruin the whole night.”

“
I’ve been
thinking…”

Carmen pointed a red
fingernail at the building where a caricature of Sick’em was
painted on the side. A silver horseshoe hung from its nostrils and
ammo belts wrapped around its horns. “This is a bar,” she said in a
mother-to-child tone. “No thinking allowed.”

“
But maybe that week I had
all those terrible nightmares, maybe it didn’t have anything to do
with the dead rat I had found back then.”

“
Brilliant revelation. Now
let’s go.” Carmen’s heels clicked as she strutted toward the bar’s
front door.

Amy caught up to her.
“Maybe the rat from today won’t haunt my dreams. Could be last time
I was fighting off a cold or something?”

“
Exactly.” Carmen tugged
Amy’s arm once more. “Cold meds can give you some trippy
dreams.”

Carmen spotted Derrick standing at the
entrance. She let go of Amy’s arm.

But damn, he looked good. He wore a
black muscle shirt with tight black jeans that showed his lean but
muscular legs, and those rugged steel toe work boots.

Derrick was heavy into
conversation, his hands animate. Last time she’d seen him, a week
and two days ago, he’d gone home with Miss Suzy Slutbags from
Whorelane. Long legs. Blonde hair. Big breasts. How fucking
original.

“
You and Derrick on the
fritz again?” Amy asked.

“
No,” Carmen lied and
stopped to light a cigar.

Where had he been this
time? Rock climbing? Skydiving? Running with the fucking bulls? She
watched Derrick until he ducked inside the club then continued
walking.

“
Who was Derrick talking
to?” Amy asked.

“
Cinder. He’s been a
regular at the Bull for a few months now.”

Amy hesitated before
asking, “Have you—”

“
No.” Carmen shot Amy a
stern glance. “I think he likes the poles.”

Cinder wore a blue
rhinestone suit and yellow suede shoes. In one well-manicured hand
he held a large cigar and in the other, a moon pie that he’d
already taken a bite from. Cinder had to be the second most exotic
dresser who frequented The Bull.

“
How fares this splendid
eve for Lady Carmen and her consort?”

Carmen took a drag of her
cigarette. And she’d give him the number one slot for being the
most eccentric talker. “Just dandy.”

“
May I offer a
guess?”

The guy always got her
costume right but she never took it further. He seemed harmless
enough, but she had zero attraction for him and she sensed he had
even less for her.

Her game
of ‘
guess the costume and answer the
trivia = get laid
’ was a bit juvenile but
entirely entertaining. And in this podunk, backasswards town, a
little excitement could curb a strong desire to tie oneself to a
train track.

She nodded.

“
A sexy cartoon madam with
poodle-like hair and nose...with a bit of a western
spice.”

She shook her head. “How
do you do that?”

Cinder winked. “I have
traveled stars beyond dreams; your eyes make me quiver
still.”

Carmen nodded
indifferently. “Cinder, sweetheart, you need more Daniels and less
Cummings.”

“
Your Daniels I have
known, but your Cummings is much a bore.” He moved his face close
to Carmen. “But she walks in beauty like the night; of cloudless
climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and
bright.”

Carmen laughed and placed
a light kiss on Cinder’s cheek. “Byron. Now that’s more my
style.”

Cinder took another bite
of the moon pie and looked into the sky. “Tis a night of a thousand
stars and destinies aligned that we find ourselves one day afar,
but it will never forsake whom we are.” He leaned to look around
Carmen where Amy stood. From his minty cigar, Cinder swirled a
cloud of icy white smoke. “I must know the name of your lady
friend.”

“
I’m Amy.” She gave a
wave. “What will never forsake who we are?”

“
Our sign from the stars
that we are eternally aligned.” Cinder’s face scrunched. “Such
unorthodox vibes pour forth this moment in time. Is it too forward
to ask of your sorrows and pains?”

Amy’s eyes grew wide,
gawking at Cinder as if he were some sort of celebrity.

Carmen snatched her by the
wrist. “Her day’s been awesome. Catch you later.” She dragged Amy
through the door as Cinder gave his verbose farewell.

Just inside, surrounded by
country music, drunken chatter, cigarette smoke and dim lighting,
she pulled Amy to the side. Carmen fished through her own purse. “I
have something for you.” She found the purple vibrator, still in
the package. “Meet Bastet.”