Chained (Brides of the Kindred) (20 page)

“Oh,” Maggie said softly. He looked so
upset she wished she could comfort him in some way. “I’m sorry, Kor…” She
turned to him and put a hand on his muscular bicep. “I didn’t think.”

“It’s all right.” He covered her hand with
his own, much larger one. “I’ll be fine. And as long as you stay out of the
deep end, you should too.”

“I wouldn’t go in even if I
didn’t
have
the scratches,” Maggie said. “I’m not exactly the best swimmer—I’m not much
good at
anything
athletic.”

“Unless there was an athletic event for
tripping in ridiculously high heels.” One corner of his mouth went up, taking
the sting out of his teasing words.

“Stop it.” Maggie slapped at his chest
playfully, glad he seemed to be shaking off his gloomy mood.
“You
should
try walking in these things and see how well you do.”

“I’d rather watch you in them,” he murmured.
“Why do you think I don’t mind walking behind you, pretending to be your slave?
Those things might be a health hazard but the way they make your hips sway is
damn sexy.”

The sudden heat in his eyes made Maggie
look hurriedly away, heart pounding.

“Oh—I think the master of the spa is calling
me,” she said, a bit breathlessly.

The Sensorian was indeed, waving her over.

“You go and have fun,” Kor said softly.
“Just be careful, blondie.”

“I will.” Maggie smiled at him. “And you
stay dry.”

He nodded gravely. “I sure as hell will.
Don’t worry about that.”

Maggie nodded and turned away.

* * * * *

“No, no, no!” Xandra
hissed, glaring into the surface of her cauldron. “He must get in—must submerge
himself for the seed to be planted!”

“Problems?” A pair of
glowing red eyes rose to the surface and stared at her.

“It’s Therron—he
refuses to get into the Remembrance Pool!” Xandra was thoroughly frustrated.
“And after I took so much trouble with my spell to influence that Sensorian
fool to get him there in the first place. It’s maddening!”

The eyes glowed
brighter. “Something must be done. I have not planned so carefully and worked
so hard to get the male ready for nothing.”

“Well, what am I to
do? My influence only extends so far—working magic from light years away is
difficult.” Xandra frowned.

“Is the Remembrance
Pool really a necessity? After the life he has lived—the pains and agonies I
have ensured were inflicted upon him and especially after all the kills he has
made—he ought to be thoroughly corrupted and ripe for invasion by now.”

“Well, he’s
not
,” Xandra snapped. “And you know
you cannot inhabit a being that is not willfully evil.”

“True…” The eyes
glowed thoughtfully. “Well, if he will not get into the pool himself he must be
forced in.”

“Don’t you think I
thought of that? But how?” Xandra demanded. “Therron is not yet ripe for
invasion and until the seed is planted my magic cannot influence him—only those
around him.”

“Those around him…”
The glowing eyes blinked. “That is the answer. The girl with him—the one who
named and claimed him—is she—?”

“That softhearted
little wretch?” Xandra spat on the floor of her hovel. “Not a chance. She
barely let Therron touch her during the banquet and yet her mind is a turmoil
of guilt.” She frowned. “I must find a way to separate her from Therron—she is
a bad influence on him. Or rather, a good one. He cares for her too much to
allow himself to turn dark.”

“Perhaps there is an
answer to both our problems. If Therron cannot be invaded and the girl with him
is also a closed vessel, another must be found.”

“There is one whose
mind and heart are evil,” Xandra said thoughtfully. “She feels nothing but
jealousy and spite and hatred—the perfect vessel. But she is certainly not
strong enough to force Therron into the waters of Remembrance.”

The red eyes were
half lidded with evil amusement. “And who said it was Therron who must be
forced in?”

* * * * *

Maggie turned away, heading for the
shallow end of the pool. But she hadn’t gone two steps before Lady Ponce’beast
suddenly appeared at her side. She looked strange somehow—her eyes were wild with
a reddish tinge and her wig was twisted around until it was nearly backwards.
Her slave was trailing behind her with a worried expression on his face.

“Mistress?” he said. “Mistress, I really
think—”

“Nola
Pope’nose,”
Lady Ponce’beast snarled, glaring at
Maggie. “How
are
you, my dear? Did you
enjoy
the Pillow Fruit?”

“Lady Ponce’beast,” Maggie exclaimed,
turning to face the other woman. “Yes, I did. I’ve never tasted it before and
it’s really quite—”

“Taste this, you little bitch!” Lady
Ponce’beast shouted. With a stiff, jerky movement—almost as though her body was
being controlled by someone else—she lunged forward and shoved Maggie into the
deep end of the Remembrance Pool.

Chapter Sixteen

It happened before Kor could stop it. The
crazy bitch pushed Maggie into the Remembrance Pool and then laughed
maniacally—a strange, ugly sound that seemed to be too deep to come from a
female’s vocal chords.

Kor didn’t stop to think twice. As the
blood red waters closed over Maggie’s head, he dived in to save her. Bad
memories or not, he couldn’t let her drown. Couldn’t let her—

“Deeper! Thrust the spear in deeper—pierce
his heart!”

Kor looked around wildly—the voice
belonged to his old master. Where was he? And what was he saying?

Suddenly he was in a large private
sparring chamber which had been made up to resemble an arena. There was a
spectator box at one end and plenty of weapons hanging on the walls. There was
even sand on the floor to soak up spilled blood. Sitting in the box were
several rich patrons—as well as his old master.

“Harder!” his old master insisted, the
light of greed growing in his small, piggy eyes. “Our young patron has decided
that your opponent must die. Finish him, Korexiroth!”

Kor looked down and saw that the point of
his spear was penetrating another male’s chest. No—not just another male. It
was his dearest friend in the world—it was Lairtez. The one who had stood by
him time and again and saved his life in the arena more times than he could
count.

It all came back to Kor now. They were
fighting a private exhibition—a manhood gift from one of their richest patrons
to his son. It was supposed to be a harmless show—a mock battle in which Kor
brought his opponent to his knees as only The Demon could. They had performed
in this way countless times but this time things had gone wrong…terribly wrong.
The patron’s son had called for death instead of leniency. It wasn’t part of
the performance but apparently Kor’s master had been offered enough credit to
make the loss of a valued fighter more than worth his while.

“Lairtez,” Kor gasped, his own voice
sounding choked in his ears. “I cannot—”

“You must.” Blood seeped from the other
male’s mouth, trickling down his chin. His eyes were glazed but his voice was
firm. “If you don’t, Master will have us both killed.”

Kor looked up and saw the light of anger
growing in his master’s eyes.

“Why do you hesitate, Korexiroth?” he
demanded. “Finish him! The patrons pay good credit to see blood—do as you’re told.”

Kor felt sick. He and Lairtez had been
thrust into the area together at an early age—too young, really to be trained.
They would have been killed if they hadn’t banded together. As they trained and
grew into their new roles as fighters in the Blood Circuit, they had protected
each other. Kor knew that no matter what else happened, Lairtez always had his
back. And now he would be forced to kill him, on the whim of a bloodthirsty
patron who cared only for the spectacle of death.

“No,” he croaked. “I cannot.”

“You must. I’m dead already. No sense…”
Lairtez choked, bringing up more blood. “No sense in us both dying, Brother.”

His master came out of the box, striding
over the blood soaked sand with a grim scowl on his face.

“Do it,
slave,
” he snapped. “Finish
him or you both die.”

“I—” Kor never got to finish his words.
With a groan, Lairtez threw himself forward, using the weight of his large body
to drive the spear point deeper into his chest. More blood gushed out, wetting
the sand. In the private box, the patrons cheered.

“Good. It’s done.” The master dusted his
hands together and glared at Kor. “You were much too slow to obey orders, Korexiroth.
I’ll see to you later.”

“Not if I see to your first.” Kor’s eyes
got hot and a red veil dropped over his vision as he reached for his master’s
throat. Distantly, he heard the young patron crowing—“The Demon! Look at his
eyes—they’re glowing! The Demon is finally showing his colors! He’s—”

…too big to hold off.
Too strong.
Kor felt a rush of
sick fear. A huge male he recognized as Taurex—the prize fighter of his
master’s stable— came lumbering after him.

Kor looked down at himself. He was younger
now—much younger than when he’d been forced to kill his friend and had
subsequently murdered his master as well. In fact, he had just started fighting
in the arena a few days before. His record wasn’t good—the worst in the stable.
Which was why he had been given to Taurex as fresh meat.

“Best submit, boy,” someone called through
the bars of the cage. “You might be faster than old Taurex but he’s stronger
and a hell of a lot more persistent. Give in now and he might not tear you up
too bad.”

Taurex lunged for him again and Kor danced
nimbly out of the way. His younger self was just beginning to develop the
muscles that would turn him into a fearsome warrior later in life. But he was
nowhere near big enough to fight off the older male’s huge bulk.

With a feint to the right, Taurex suddenly
cornered him against the thick wooden table. He grabbed Kor by the shoulders
and spun him around, pushing him down so that his face was smashed against the
scarred wood. Rough hands fumbled for the waistband of his breeches and ripped
them down. Something hard and hot thrust into him, penetrating him, tearing him
open…

“No!” The cry came from deep inside him
and Kor felt the rage overtake him again. His eyes were hot and his vision was
suddenly blood red. Reaching down, he grabbed one of the table’s legs and
wrenched it as hard as he could.

There was a deep
crrrackkk!
and the
table lurched to one side. Kor looked down and saw that he was holding a thick
piece of wood. A club with one jagged, splintered end.

The motion of the table had caused Taurex
to lose his hold. He staggered and Kor managed to get away, though the sudden
separation felt as though he was ripping his insides out. Ignoring the pain he
turned on the older male, holding the makeshift club in his hand.

“You, boy!” Taurex roared, lunging for him
again. “Come here! Wasn’t finished with you yet.”

“You never will be.” With all his might, Kor
jabbed the jagged wooden shard deep into the other male’s eye. It popped with a
wet, viscous sound and suddenly whitish red jelly was running down Taurex’s
scarred cheek. He bellowed and staggered backwards and Kor felt a ferocious
surge of joy. With a hoarse shout, he surged forward, driving the stake deeper
into the other male’s brain, not stopping until he felt the sharp wooden end
scrape the back of Taurex’s skull.

Bastard will never
bother me again,
he thought, looking
at the dazed faces of the other slaves who had crowded around the locked cell
to watch the show.
None of them will. None of them will ever…

“…see you again? Never?”

“I’m afraid not, my darling.” The soft
voice belonged to Niomie—the female slave who had raised Kor for as long as he
could remember. Her big eyes were wet with tears and there were restraints
around her wrists. She was being sold.

“But Mother—”

“I told you, sweetheart,” she said gently.
“I’m not your mother. Not really.”

No, but she had been the only mother Kor
had ever known. The one who had raised him from a baby. Who had cared for him
and dressed the little scrapes and wounds he got playing Blood Circuit champion
with the other slave children. The one he ran to when he was hurt or upset. The
one who cuddled him and sang to him after the lights went out and it was dark
in the slave quarters.

She was the only mother he had and she was
leaving him. Going away with her new master forever.

“I have to go.” Niomie stroked his hair
gently with her bound hands. “I’m sorry, darling boy. You know I don’t want to
leave.”

“Then don’t!” Kor’s eyes were getting hot
for some reason. He was younger still than he had been when he had killed
Taurex—only six cycles old. Too young to lose his mother. “Don’t leave me—let’s
run away, Niomie! You and me.”

“Shhh! Don’t talk so!” She cast a fearful
glance at the guard who was standing by the door, waiting for her. The man was
glaring back at them balefully—clearly he had heard Kor’s words.

“I
will
talk so!” Kor shouted, his
eyes growing even hotter, his vision growing red. “Why should we stay and let
ourselves be sold? What makes Master any better than us? Why should he own us?
We should own ourselves!”

“That’s enough of that kind of talk.” The
guard came forward and grabbed Niomie roughly by the arm. “And enough goodbyes.
Time to go, slave—your new master awaits.”

“No!” Suddenly the rage fear and grief all
came to a point inside him. Kor felt them burst out, coming from his eyes in a
concentrated blast. The guard stared at him for a split second, a shocked
expression on his face…

And then he had no face, only a smoking,
seared crater where his features had been. The lipless, burning hole that had
been his mouth opened wide and a howl of pure anguish came out.

Kor didn’t know what he had done or how he
had done it—he only knew the guard was incapacitated. He turned to Niomie.

“Come on, Mother—quickly, let’s go!”

But she backed away from him, a look of
horror on her lovely face.

“Oh, no—no, what have you done? How did
you do that? Your eyes…
your eyes…”

My eyes!
Suddenly Kor came back to himself and realized that the
red beams coming
f
rom his eyes weren’t just a memory—they were blasting
through the blood red waters of the Remembrance Pool, causing it to boil on
contact. The water roiled and churned until he closed his eyes for a moment,
willing the beams to stop.

He tried to think. What was he doing in
the pool when he’d been determined not to go in?

With a flash he remembered—he’d jumped in
to get Maggie. And oh Gods—she was down there now, sinking slowly in the bloody
depths. What if the strange beams that shot from his eyes had harmed her? What
if he’d killed her? Cut her in half with the strange lasers that somehow shot
out when he got angry or upset?

Kor dived frantically, trying to see
through the viscous red water, desperate to find her.

With a rush of relief he finally saw the
faint outline of the dress she was wearing. She had sunk nearly to the bottom
and she wasn’t moving, only her hair floated around her head like seaweed. Gods,
was she hurt?

Kor dove down, reaching for the trailing
edge of the white lace dress, praying he wasn’t too late to save her. Praying
that he hadn’t hurt her—that he wouldn’t lose the female who had come to mean
so much to him in such a short time.

* * * * *

Someone was tugging on Maggie’s dress,
pulling her up to the surface of the blood red water—but she barely noticed.
She wasn’t at the bottom of the Remembrance Pool at all.

She was back in the Microbiology lab at
USF and Donald was facing her.

“You’ve been an exemplary lab assistant,
Margaret,” he said formally.

“Thank you, Dr. Mahoney.” Maggie looked
down shyly. She’d been in love with her brilliant, aloof professor for
ages—almost ever since she started working for him. Was this just his end of
the semester speech? Or was he—
gasp
—finally beginning to notice her? She
waited breathlessly, hardly daring to look at him as he went on.

“You’re such a good assistant, in fact
that I…” Donald cleared his throat, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing up and
down nervously in his thin throat. “I think it would be beneficial if we saw
each other outside work. In a social setting.”

“Professor Mahoney…” Maggie finally dared
to look up at him and make eye contact. “Are you…are you asking me out on a
date?”

Donald cleared his throat again. “Yes…I
suppose that’s the socially accepted term for it. Will you go?”

“Oh, yes!” Maggie felt a huge joy swelling
inside her.
He noticed me! He finally noticed me!

“Excellent.” Donald looked relieved. “Well
then, you may pick me up at eight tonight. As you know, I do not drive.”

“Yes, I know.” Maggie didn’t even care
about that. It was just that Donald was so brilliant he could never concentrate
on the road well enough to get his driver’s license. Of course, when your head
was always filled with advanced theories and complicated hypotheses, it was
completely understandable that something as mundane as driving should take a
back seat. And she…

“…has some excellent theories which
deserve to be pursued,” Donald’s dry, flat voice explained as he talked to the
review committee. “I have no hesitation whatsoever in recommending that
Margaret’s research be given funding.”

Margaret’s heart swelled as she listened
to him defending her. Not everyone on the review committee believed she ought
to be given a green light on her project. But when Donald had heard she was
having trouble getting funding, he hadn’t hesitated a bit.