Forsaken: The World of Nightwalkers (19 page)

Dax bellowed out in the sheer agony of it, but immediately regretted it because he could not draw another breath inward. His adversary came over to him and sat gingerly down on the stool, as if concerned about hurting him. The female Bodywalker looked down at him and smiled beatifically.

“You should thank me really,” she said conversationally. “You’re about to father a demi-god.”

Dax wanted to rage with his anger and impotence, but blood was filling his throat and lungs and it was all he could do to just draw in the smallest amount of breath. So in lieu of anything else, he spat a mouthful of blood at the bitch and wheezed out: “Fuck you!”

“Well now, that’s the spirit!” She clapped her hands together like a gleeful child. “I tell you what, you don’t have to lift a finger.” She giggled. “Actually, you do have to lift something. But I’m going to do all of the hard work, never you fear.” She fluffed at her hair. “Yes. You just sit still and this will all be over before you know it.”

And that was when Dax truly realized that he had lost. That there was nothing he could do. He could feel his strength ebbing away on the tide of the blood spreading beneath him into the tile. He found himself looking up at the ceiling, at the lights shining there, and through all of his agonizing pain he felt her reach out and touch him along the fly of his pants, cupping him, feeling him. And in spite of the agony he was in, in spite of the fact that there was nothing but revulsion running through him at the sensation, he felt himself responding in a way that shouldn’t be possible.

That
wasn’t
possible.

That was when he realized he was going to be raped and there was nothing he could do about it.

Leo was floored. Not because she was royalty, but because, if Grey had been showing them a truthful version of the future, it meant that she had turned her back on all that she was in order to be with him. And from the sound of it, it was a very expensive price to pay.

“Jesus,” he said softly, not knowing how to feel about that. “What…so explain how this thing works…with your people.”

Your people. Not you people. It was a gentle sign that he wasn’t looking at her like some kind of massive negative entity that needed to be guarded against. Needed to be regarded with prejudice.

“There are seven Night Angel prefects. One prefect for each continent. Each prefect rules his continent under a sketched-out series of laws, we call them principles, but otherwise each prefecture is run as a monarchy. A prefect can do whatever he wishes, with only the other prefects able to make him answer for any actions he might take outside of the principles. A prefecture is not inherited, it is earned, but children of prefects always get first opportunity to prove themselves worthy of the seat if something should happen to their parent or if their parent chooses to step down.”

“And you are the daughter of a prefect?” Leo asked, although he realized he already knew the answer.

“Yes. Actually…two prefects,” she lowered her eyes and Leo could swear that if she hadn’t been black she might have blushed just then. “Australia and North America had what you might call a…uh…”

“Summit meeting?” Leo couldn’t have possibly passed that one up, even if she was clearly uncomfortable.

But she laughed, a good hard laugh that made her eyes dance and shine.

“Yes. They had quite a torrid affair, from my understanding. But eventually…eventually my mother brought an end to it. I tend to think that…” She stopped and Leo looked at her with a discerning eye.

“You blame yourself for it. You think you were responsible.”

“In a manner of speaking, yes. My mother found out she was with child and ended the affair. I wish I could tell you why, exactly, she felt it necessary to do so, but she has never given me a satisfactory answer. I could speculate, but it only gives me a headache.” She frowned and looked down at her hands, which were sliding together in nervous activity, as if what she was discussing made her feel cold inside and she was trying to warm herself up.

“You know, I actually find it comforting,” Leo said. “to know that your kind have the same complex emotional pitfalls as any human might have.”

“Of course we do,” she said, jerking herself awkwardly to her feet and away from his reach. “We’re not animals. And even if we were, animals have emotions, too! If not, then explain the devotion of a beloved pet, or…or the way a wolf mourns the death of its mate. We’re not cockroaches just scurrying about concerned with nothing but the finding of food!”

“I didn’t say I thought you were an emotionless cockroach!” Leo erupted, standing up and reaching for her arm. But she moved out of his reach and backpedaled away from him.

“You don’t have to say it,” she hissed at him, her fiery eyes burning like two yellow flames. “Your contempt oozes out of you like a tide. From the instant I met you you’ve done nothing but batter me with your obvious derision toward me and all of Nightwalker kind! But never you fear,” she said, her hands balling into fists. “As soon as this wish is made you’ll be quit of me and you’ll never have to set eyes on this
thing
”—she indicated herself with a jerking hand gesture—“any longer.”

She turned her back on him and stalked angrily away. He opened his mouth to recall her, to argue with her that she was overreacting and being too sensitive, but instead he went quiet and felt a forlorn sort of regret birth inside of him. He couldn’t argue against the truth. But neither could he help his feelings nor the horrifyingly overwhelming distrust that seethed through him whenever he came close to any one of these breeds.

And it was for the best that he hold on to that, he told himself. It was best that he never forget to be cautious, that he never turn his back on any of them. There was no telling if he, a simple mortal man, would ever survive if he did. He did not belong in this world of titans and demigods. He didn’t even want to know such things existed.

But it was better that he did, he argued with himself. His ignorance had cost him dearly, had scarred him in a way he might never recover from.

But as she stopped at a desk across the room, shuffling through the books that were laid upon it, he found himself remembering things about her, things that told him what an honest, valiant heart she had. He remembered how she had wept in devastation as she had clutched their dead child to her breast.

No. It was an illusion,
he whispered fiercely into his own psyche as the memory of the agony he had felt in that moment threatened to overwhelm him.
It was all pure fantasy. Pure fiction.

And yet he couldn’t seem to stop himself as he crossed the distance between them. He stood behind her, struggling with himself so hard it was exhausting him.

“I was tortured.” Leo jerked with surprise as he said the words aloud. Why should she know that? Why would he want her to know that? She could just use it against him…

Faith turned around slowly, her surprise written all over her face. But he thought she was more surprised that he had confessed the thing to her than she was about the nature of the thing itself. Then he remembered she could see those words being written onto himself over and over again, and he knew there was no way she could have missed something so deeply ingrained onto his scroll…onto his soul.

“A Bodywalker named Chatha. He’s…on the outside he looks like a Down syndrome man. I don’t know if you know what that is…but suffice it to say, it’s sheep’s clothing. I let my guard down because I thought he was harmless. He got the drop on me and he…” Leo trailed off, his heart racing and sweat breaking out over every surface of his skin. “Anyway…it’s just going to take some time…I can’t be expected to just forget it.”

“No. I don’t expect you to forget it,” she said quietly. “But I do expect you to realize that one Nightwalker made of pure evil does not mean all Nightwalkers fit that same definition. And I expect you to be intelligent enough, evolved enough, to understand that.”

“That’s not fair,” he snapped. “Why don’t you run across that sick fuck and let him fillet you like a fish for a few days and then we’ll see if…”

Leo’s anger slipped away on a sheet of cold shock when he heard his own words ringing out into the room. He would never, no matter who and what they were,
never
wish Chatha on anyone for any reason. And suddenly the idea of her being at Chatha’s mercy blossomed horrifyingly within his imagination and he thought he might be sick onto his own boots. He staggered away from her, dizzying nausea trying to win the day.

But then she was there, stepping up against him, her warm, vital body burning its strength into him. She felt like a tether, a lifeline. He didn’t know why he would see her as such, but just the same he found himself wrapping his arms around her. He hugged her to himself brutally hard, his face against the softness of her neck, his entire body quaking under her touch. God, he had never known such weakness. Such fear.

“I’m sorry,” he said on fast breaths. “I’d never want you to know even half of what I was forced to learn at Chatha’s hands. I don’t even want to speak his name aloud in your presence because I’m terrified it would conjure him up.”

“It’s all right,” she said softly against his ear, her breath spilling over every curve and hollow of it.

“No. It’s not.” His shaking hand traveled up to the back of her delicate neck. She was strong and she was powerful, but she would be just as fragile as he had been under Chatha’s vicious blade. The thought was obscene as he stood there bathed in her warmth, the sweet scent of her filling his senses. “It will never be all right for as long as that thing lives. I will never rest easy as long as it’s alive.”

She drew her head back just far enough for her to see into his emotion-ravaged eyes.

“I’m going to say something, and you might hate me for it, but I want you to think about it. Okay?”

He felt a wary sense of dread, but he nodded awkwardly just the same.

“When a Politic Bodywalker is reborn, it Blends with the soul of the human that hosts it. Then they see the world together with joined eyes. But when a Templar Bodywalker is invited into their host’s body, they do not Blend in the same way. They subjugate the host soul, forcing it to lie in complete and utter helpless submission. The originating soul must simply stand by and watch everything the Bodywalker says or does.” She drew a breath. “So somewhere inside Chatha there is a sweet, innocent soul, the soul of a Down syndrome male, who has been watching everything this psychopathic Bodywalker soul has been doing. He will feel it all, smell it all, and remember it all. He will suffer under it every single day until someone puts Chatha down like the rabid dog he is. As much of a victim to Chatha as you were, that innocent is a thousand times more a victim because he has to watch as his very own hands and eyes do to others what he did to you.”

Leo didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want to know it. Anger and outrage warred within him, sick disgust their companion. He wanted to sit down, his legs weak beneath him, his body shaking uncontrollably as his mind struggled to reconcile what he had been feeling every minute of every day about that monster that had brutalized him with the image of innocence and sympathy she was forcing onto him.

“No. No, God, I can’t do this. I can’t do this!” He shoved himself out of her hold, staggering to the desk, his hands gripping at it as if it might suddenly be snatched away from him and along with it all of his strength and composure. “Don’t do this to me!”

He felt her hands on his back, felt her warmth ebbing into him as she slid her touch to his shoulders and gripped him tightly there. She didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. She’d said it all already, hadn’t she? Hadn’t she forced the idea onto him that was currently ripping away at him?

The idea that there was a victim out there suffering a thousand times more than he was.

“He should be killed,” Leo rasped out, his neck tight with tension. “I already thought so…already knew that I wouldn’t rest until I had destroyed him, but now…” Leo fought back the burn of tears as he forced himself to keep breathing. “That kid. Andy. The real Andy…he’s stuck inside that thing. Isn’t there something we can do? Isn’t there some way we can rip Chatha out and leave Andy intact?”

“No,” she said gently.

“What about what Apep did to Jackson? He severed his souls, right? What if we sever just the one and leave the other intact? Couldn’t that—”

“That’s too simplified, Leo. It doesn’t work that way. The Blending, however much or little has taken place, makes it impossible to separate the souls. Although there are two separate tethers for Jackson’s souls, the souls themselves are like conjoined twins. Each twin has its own umbilicus, but they can’t be simply pulled apart. There isn’t any way of ejecting Chatha without killing Andy. It’s been tried before and it’s never succeeded.”

“Are you sure?” he said, turning toward her, knowing his every emotion was stricken across his face…written across his scroll for her to see.

She nodded, gentle fingertips reaching to smooth through his hair at his temple. His eyes slid closed for a moment as he fought to understand why, in this sea of horror and misery, that single touch had the power to soothe him. She did it again, like a mother comforting her child, like an owner petting a beloved companion. It exuded strength and affection, bringing them together to provide a shield to fortify him and armor to protect him.

When he looked into her eyes he was not offended by the sympathy he saw there and that was surprising. The idea of someone feeling sorry for him should have enraged him. But he knew it was not pity she was feeling when she looked at him like that. It was understanding. It was commiseration. She knew it was a hopeless situation, just like he did. She knew that she had taken away the clarity of his hatred for Chatha. She knew that it was no longer so simple for him to want Chatha at his cold mercy.

He had imagined thousands of ways he wanted to visit revenge on Chatha, but now…knowing what he knew now…he could no longer have the satisfaction of the fantasy of it. It was no longer black and white. Good and bad.