Worshiped By The Bear Kings - Complete (17 page)

CHAPTER FIVE

Thin ice.

Gaspar placed
his hand to the lake, and Jasmine heard the tiny little cracks in the ice as he
did so. Since he hadn’t asked her a question, she figured he just wanted her to
watch this for some reason. She leant over the side and saw that he had formed
a perfectly round hole.

“Pass me that
glass, would you?”

Jasmine
blinked. “Huh? What glass?”

Footsteps
emerged from the shadows.

A young man
in a buttoned up shirt advanced presenting a single glass upon a round tray.
His face was cold without emotion.

Jasmine
looked back to Gaspar who had his palm open and outstretched. She got up and
took the glass. The man carefully backed away into the shadows.

Gaspar
snapped the glass up from her, and then quickly filled it with the contents
below. He handed it back to Jasmine. “Drink it.”

She inspected
the liquid closely. It was clear, somewhere between a shade of purple and pink.

Or that may
have just been the lights reflecting off of it.

“What is it?”

“It’s good
for the baby,” Gaspar said.

Jasmine put
her nose to it and sniffed. It was fruity but she couldn’t detect any alcohol.

“This won’t
hurt me will it?”

Gaspar glared
at her. She gave an exasperated sigh and put the liquid down the hatch.

As she did
so, her anxieties began to fade, and she felt a radiant sense of well being.

Looking at
Gaspar now, his face seemed much softer. His eyes more passionate.

He was
smiling and she liked his smile.

“How was it?”
he asked her.

“Surprisingly
good,” Jasmine answered quickly. “Are you going to have some?”

Gaspar shook
his head. “No. I need my wits about me.”

“Is it … is
there alcohol in it?”

“There’s
something magical I can assure you.”

“Magical?”

“Yes.”

Jasmine felt
giddy. Something was happening in the air. Something was happening to all the
sounds swimming around her. Tiny sounds. Sounds she could barely hear.

Now they were
all she could.

“You’re not
dreaming,” Gaspar said. “You’re wide awake.”

“This is … I
feel kind of funny.”

Gaspar
chuckled.

Jasmine
giggled back.

“Of course
you do, my princess. But you must be tired. It’s been a long night. Perhaps you
would wish to sleep now?”

“Oh…” Jasmine
murmured. “What about…?”

“Yes? What
about…?”

She had a
thought. She was about to ask about something that concerned her.

For some
reason, she couldn’t think of what it was.

Probably
didn’t matter anyway.

“It’s
nothing,” she said. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Good,”
Gaspar replied.

He stood and
took her hand. He bowed his face to it, and then pressed his lips tenderly
against it.

Jasmine felt
shivers all over her body.

The kind of
shivers she liked.

She blushed.

“It is
familiar to you, isn’t it?” Gaspar asked. “This place?”

Jasmine got
up off the ledge.

He was still
holding her hand.

“I’ve been
here before, haven’t I?”

“Yes you
have, my dear,” Gaspar said. “It will come back to you soon.”

“I was happy
here,” Jasmine said. “So happy.”

“Of course
you were. And you’re happier still now. Aren’t you, my sweet petal?”

“Yes,”
Jasmine bowed her head.

“Yes,
what
?”

And although
she was forgetting things faster than she could keep up, she did remember what
it was the Arch Baron wanted to hear.

“Yes,
Master,” Jasmine said.

CHAPTER SIX

Dennis wasn’t exactly having what
he’d call a good night. Dara hadn’t given him a kiss goodnight as he walked her
up the steps to her parent’s double-story home. He told her all the usual shit.
That everything was going to be okay, that sleep would fix some things, and
that she should call him once she was feeling better. She wound up slamming the
front door in his face. Dennis didn’t know why he bothered trying.

Later on,
driving back to the city, he laughed that thought up a bit. Of course he knew
why he tried. Because Dara was smoking fine – just the type of ditzy party girl
he needed to get over his broken heart and meaningless existence. Sure, he knew
he was an asshole and life wasn’t going to give him a break, but sometimes it
just seemed to have it out for him. If he was a deeper person he might have
tried to analyze why he kept running into these problems – these freak of
nature occurrences, but Dennis wasn’t necessarily a deep person. Only on
occasion.

He stopped
off at a liquor store that was still open, knowing full well how late it was,
and bought himself a six pack of whiskey and cola cans. He should have still
had plenty of these in the car somewhere already – had it not been for their
hasty departure that afternoon.

Stepping
outside the store, walking back to his car with the bag of cans, he had to
shake his head. Dennis was annoyed. Before – he’d been pretty much powerless
against those sick creatures. He’d acted the coward. Now, it was just digging
at him. And he hadn’t even had his first drink yet.

At the car,
he let out a deep sigh. Looking up, he could see the standing presence of a
clock tower not too far away. It was almost eleven pm. He probably should just
call it a night. Take some of the advice he’d given Dara. He jangled his car
keys about, unsure. On one hand it didn’t feel right to leave things here. On
the other, he knew that getting drunk in his state of mind was absolutely
wrong.

Still
undecided, he climbed into the driver’s side of the car and closed the door. He
then looked outside the car and saw a couple walking side by side. That curly
brown hair. The gorgeous smile. For a second he thought it was Stacey with her
dragon-man.

“Just look at
him,” Dennis muttered. “I bet he’s having a good night.”

The couple
walked by the car, oblivious to him, laughing together.

Dennis
thought instantly of the rifle that was still in his trunk somewhere. He
thought about what would happen if he got it out and just pointed it at them.

“Shit,” he
gasped.

He looked
down at the drinks beside him, and then realized he didn’t have a choice at
all.

CHAPTER
SEVEN

The panthers hadn’t decided to play
fair with Spike. Instead of allowing him to show them where the Lion Guardian
was hiding out, they elected to beat it out of him. Spike hadn’t given it up
yet – he knew it was the only thing keeping him alive – but the panthers were
persistent. Presently he was crawling through broken glass on Jasmine’s front
lawn, having just been chucked through the window. He winced in pain as his
hands connected with the shards of glass, the small pieces imbedding as he
dragged himself along.

The front
door opened and the group of panthers filed out. Twelve, fifteen, seventeen,
who was counting? The taller one, whom Spike had heard referred to by the name
Wheeler, appeared to have taken control of the group, and was still insistent
on his demise. He signaled to his fellow panthers and divided them into two
groups. About a quarter of the panthers were to remain, while the others were
given free passage to depart. Spike watched in horror as each of them shifted
into their panthers, and revealed hideous, bony wings, from their backs –
before jumping into the air and sailing the skies.

Spike rolled
out onto his back.

Even with the
lesser numbers he knew he could not beat them. He was too wounded. Too tired.

He was done.

Wheeler
walked over, and placed his foot over Spike’s neck. When Spike looked up and
into the panther’s eyes, he saw nothing he could connect with.

There was
only black.

“I know
you’re in a lot of pain,” Wheeler droned. “We can end it right now, just tell
me where he is.”

“I tell you,
I die,” Spike choked.

“You’re going
to die if you don’t tell me,” Wheeler said pressing his foot down.

“Then what’s
the difference?” Spike growled.

Wheeler
continued his descent, but soon a hand was placed upon his back.

“Why don’t we
just let him show us?” the subordinate questioned. “Think how pleased Gaspar
will be when you bring that lion’s head to him.”

Wheeler shot
him a mean look.

The panther
backed away.

“If he knew
anything he would have told us,” Wheeler declared.

“Bullshit,”
Spike hissed.

“I’m going to
ask you again, Wheeler, don’t do it.”

Wheeler shot
a ball of fire from his mouth at the other panther. The shirt he was wearing
caught fire, and in a pool of smoke, he reverted to his panther form.

The other
three men stood their ground, looking confused.

The panther
growled at Wheeler and made a swipe motion.

Wheeler
chuckled. “So be it.”

He then
raised his foot over Spike’s neck and jammed his foot down.

Just in time,
Spike shifted out of the way, Wheeler’s foot missing. He flashed Spike a
maniacal grin, and then went to lunge again.

As he did so
however, his eyes suddenly rolled back and pool of blood gushed from his
forehead.

Spike could
barely hear the rifle’s echo over the commotion, but there was no question
about it.

Wheeler had
been shot.

As Spike sat
up the three men and the panther stared at Spike suspiciously as if he had
caused it. He put his hands out to defend himself – from them, from the next
bullet, from anything.

Soon the gun
cracked again from the darkness, and the panther falling to the ground in a
pool of blood.

As a third
shot sounded, the remaining three morphed into their panthers, and spread their
wings to fly up to their escape.

A figure came
running out from the footpath to the garden, as Spike looked at him, terrified.

Dennis put
the gun to his head. “Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Jasmine! Is
she in the house?”

“No.”

Dennis bashed
him across the face with the rifle.

Spike fell
back to the ground, his cheek bleeding.

“Where the
fuck is she? What have you done with her?”

“Nothing,”
Spike pleaded. “I was trying to protect her.”

Dennis stared
back at him, disbelieving.

“I’m sorry,”
Spike said. “I failed.”

CHAPTER
EIGHT

The door to Jasmine’s new bedroom
opened with a long hair-raising creak. Gaspar, who was behind her, ushered her
inside. He remained in the doorway while she walked along the carpet towards
the bed. It was the only room in the palace not covered in ice and snow that
Jasmine had seen so far.

The bed was
large, king sized, with royal blue covers. There was a window, big enough to
fit through on the wall opposite the door, but she couldn’t see anything out it
from where she was. On a table beside the bed she saw there was a candle
burning.

Gaspar
entered. He walked over to the wall opposite the bed and went to the mantle. He
stopped in front of a small ornament. A blue harp. Gaspar moved his finger over
its strings and as he did so, a faint orchestration began to build in all
corners of the room. Jasmine stared at the harp.

Then at her
master.

Fascinated.

“This is your
home now,” Gaspar said. “You will remain in these quarters until your dragon is
born.”

“And then
what?”

“And then you
shall join me in the throne room. As we shall raise the child together, as
husband and wife.”

“But I –”

“Everything
is fine,” Gaspar said, standing in front of her. He touched the side of her
face. “Everything is perfectly normal and fine.”

“Everything
is fine,” Jasmine whispered.

“You are
happy.”

“I am happy.”

“You are in
love with this place.”

“I am in love
with this place.”

“You are in
love with me.”

When Jasmine
didn’t respond immediately, he grabbed a hold of her throat. “Ah…” he murmured.
He gave her a slight shove and then went back to the doorway. He snapped his
fingers.

Seconds later
the young man appeared with his tray and a glass on it.

It was filled
with the purplish liquid.

Gaspar took
it off the tray and walked towards Jasmine with it.

“You look so
thirsty,” he mused. “Here have this drink.”

Jasmine sat
down on the bed and accepted the glass.

“Drink up,”
he instructed.

She drank it.

Smiling,
Gaspar took the glass from her and handed it back to his servant. He then moved
round to sit beside her.

He squeezed
her hand.

“What about
my bears?” Jasmine heard herself saying from a distance. “Where are they?”

Gaspar stared
at her. His eyes were so cold.

“You will
soon forget all about them,” he said to her. “Because they don’t matter
anymore.”

“But they …
worshiped me…”

“No, they
abandoned you,” Gaspar said. “They didn’t love you. You were nothing to them. I
rescued you from them. I saved you.”

“You did?”

“Yes, of
course.” He snapped his fingers at her. “Look at me, petal dearest. Would I lie
to you?”

Jasmine held
his gaze. “No,” she said dreamily.

“Why not?”

“Because … I
belong to you. You’re going to help … my baby…”

Gaspar shook
his head. “
Our
baby.”

“But you’re
not the father.”

“He is my
blood.”

Jasmine
shivered. She knew she should be afraid.

But she was
so far away…

“I understand
your apprehension,” Gaspar said. “But soon that will all be over. Give me your
hand.”

“My hand?”

“Place it
behind my head.”

Jasmine did
as he commanded.

“Now, pull me
into you,” Gaspar said.

She pulled
Gaspar’s face to hers. Their lips soon kissed.

And Jasmine
forgot everything.