Lord of Capra (25 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

As soon as she
arrived, Evana cast a sweeping glance around the courtyard. Everything seemed
normal. She noticed a front door was cracked open and slunk toward the opening
to peer outside. A familiar cart and strider waited near the entrance. There
was no driver. She crept back to the center of the room, listening intently for
any sounds. Faint shuffling noises came from her bedchamber, and she heard
Suri’s voice. It sounded as if the native woman talked to someone, a male, but the
man’s voice was barely audible. Perhaps it was the driver of the cart or Suri’s
mate, Ronnan. If so, she needed to get them to leave the palace immediately.

Evana decided to
take a chance. “Suri!”

More shuffling
sounds came from the upper room. Evana called out again. “Suri! Are you there?”

“I’ll be right
down, my lady,” her friend responded, and something fell to the floor with a
soft
thud
. A door opened and slammed shut before Suri appeared at the
banister.

Relieved, Evana
called up to her. “Bring whoever you have helping you and come down. You must
leave the palace. Quickly! It’s not safe to stay here right now.” When her
friend didn’t react, Evana urged her again. “Hurry!”

“Yes, my lady.” Suri
started down the stairs.

Slightly annoyed
that Suri used the formal “my lady” title, Evana scowled, but decided to not
waste time chastising her friend. As long as Suri escaped, she was happy, but
she thought it was a bit odd that her friend hadn’t gone back to the bedchamber
to retrieve the other person. In fact, it was more than odd. Suspicion made
Evana wary.

Suri reached the
bottom of the stairs and approached. Not allowing her concern to show, Evana
sidestepped the woman while voicing her intentions.

“I’ll make sure no
one is left in the back rooms.”

The scent she
caught was definitely not Suri’s. Evana whipped around in full vampire form,
power sword activated and laid eyes on something she couldn’t begin to
identify. Thankfully, she knew her use of power had set Nemesis’ plan in
motion, the proof evident by the sudden appearance of her battle-ready mate at
her side.

* * * *

Alerted by his
pilot’s transformation, Bayal came out of hibernation and gathered all his
power. The new strength coursing through him gave him added confidence in his
ability to destroy his larger enemy. He left the safety of his hiding place and
swept around the moon of Capra in search of Nemesis.

Kill.
He screamed the
mental order to his pilot on the surface.
Kill the Pilot Evana. Now.
Bayal’s
thoughts touched Grendhal’s mind, compelling him to execute the ghost ship’s
pilot. At the same time, the wraith located Nemesis and strengthened his
shields to defend against her expected assault. When no bolts fired at him, he
launched his own, throwing massive shocks of dark energy toward her. What her
shields didn’t deflect, they absorbed, taking tremendous amounts of the deadly
force into her defenses.

In his insanity,
Bayal rejoiced at his assumed success. Nemesis couldn’t possibly contain the
power of his attack. She’d rupture. Her shield first, then her outer barrier
would shred, destroying her in a brilliant display that would rival the
explosion of a supernova. Such a shame no one but another ghost ship or wraith
would be able to see it and enjoy the spectacle, he thought. The idea of her
imminent destruction filled him with pride. His confidence soared as he closed
in on her, his pilot forgotten, for the time being, in his haste to destroy his
enemy.

*

Pathetic.
Nemesis spared the
single thought for the wraith as she impatiently waited for him to come closer.
It was apparent the foolish little smudge of dark matter didn’t know she had an
inner shield, which was much stronger than the outer one. His creator would
certainly have kept him ignorant of that fact. He was nothing but an annoyance.

Her real concern
was for Evana and Drake. With both shields at full power, she was unable to
retrieve either one of them. Alternatively, the overconfident wraith couldn’t
rescue his pilot. So, like a spider watching its next meal fly into an
inescapable web, Nemesis anxiously waited for the suicidal wraith to come
nearer.

Chapter Thirty-Two

What seemed like an
eternity spent sizing each other up was, in fact, accomplished in a split second.

Evana took in the
sight of the semi-naked alien, instantly analyzing each and every feature. His
only garment was a wide cloth sash supporting a triangular-shaped breechcloth
that passed between his thighs, concealing his genitals.

In vampire form,
the male pilot was much taller than Drake and slighter in build, but the iron-hardened
appearance of his muscled body was impressive. He was humanoid, but that was
the only thing that could be said about him resembling a human. He was red from
tip to toe. The short hair covering his head was a darker red as were his leathery
bat-like wings. A serpentine tail coiled down his right leg. His yellow eyes
glowed. A second later, they turned to an orange color, and he lifted his upper
lip in a snarl, showing bright white fangs. The slight movement catapulted
Evana into action. Drake moved with her to attack.

*

Their sword strokes
angled toward their enemy with such supernatural speed it took a second to
realize they’d sliced through empty space, missing their target completely. The
intended victim had instantly retreated across the room, or so it seemed, and
now brandished his own weapon—a black power blade twice the length of theirs.
The hilt was long and thick, the bottom end obviously doubling as a club. The
sword appeared to rest comfortably in his large hand. There was no doubt he was
its master.

“Surrender to me,
Evana. I’ll be merciful.”

The being’s voice
was silky smooth, unbelievably nonthreatening in tone. It sent chills up and
down Drake’s spine. And the fact its eyes had shifted to bright yellow again
was just as eerie.

“Not going to
happen,” he told the red monstrosity.

“He killed Suri,”
Evana gritted out, keeping her gaze locked on her enemy.

“That female lives,”
the being informed them. He pointed the tip of his giant sword at Evana, and
said, “You must die—now.” Streaks of orange color slithered across his yellow
gaze.

“The wraith compels
him,” Evana whispered.

Nemesis had spoken
to him about the three ways her kind could control the actions of their pilots.
They were possession, a mental co-existence, restraint, a physical restriction
of immobility, and compulsion, complete control over a pilot’s body and mind.
Of the three forms, only compulsion involved pain, and a great deal of it. The
wraith pilot had to be in agony.

Still by his side,
Evana snarled in defiance. “Do you have a name, pilot? Or does your wraith call
you slave?”

“I’m Grendhal, pilot
to the wraith Bayal.” He responded with a sneer and inclined his alien head in
a cynical gesture. He tightened his wings closer to his back and gave her a
mocking bow. His lips curled upward in a malevolent smile as his gaze locked on
Evana. “Your executioner, my lady.” Orange light blazed from his eyes,
replacing any hint of yellow.

The whole situation
was too much for Drake. Not even the devil himself was allowed to threaten his mate.
He wouldn’t stand for it.

He charged Grendhal
and kept his attention on his enemy’s sword arm, taking care to avoid the blade
as he swung his own sword up to defend himself. Evana was a split second behind
him. He hoped to distract the self-proclaimed executioner long enough for her to
rush in for a lethal stroke.

A crushing blow
struck his raised sword. The bone-shattering power of Grendhal’s strength
traveled down to his hand and ran through his arm all the way to his shoulder.
The hilt wrenched from his grasp, and he was unable to avoid the steely force
of Grendhal’s arm as the alien swatted him away easily, treating Drake as if he
were nothing more than an annoying insect. He crashed into the side wall of the
great room, shaking the stone structure to its foundation with the impact.

Pain shot through
his entire body, but was most intense on his right side. The shoulder was dislocated,
if not crushed, and several ribs were cracked, making breathing difficult. As
he slid down the wall and tumbled to the stone floor, he fought to remain
conscious in order to see if his mate had more success. What he saw filled him
with despair.

*

Since Grendhal kept
his sword high to protect his neck, Evana managed to inflict a lengthy cut to
his side with her sword while Bayal’s pilot threw her mate into the side wall.
No cry of pain came from her enemy, no indication that he’d even felt the
wound. His only reaction was a swift well aimed blow to the side of her head
with the bottom of his sword hilt. She hit the floor and rolled aside, barely
avoiding his follow-up swipe at her neck. The giant black blade hit the floor,
its tip inches away from her face. Sparks erupted at the point of impact.

Evana ignored the
explosive pain in her head and the sticky wetness of blood trickling down her
face as she scrambled to put some distance between them in an effort to gather
her strength for the next confrontation. She wasn’t fast enough. Grendhal’s
speed was incomprehensible. He was behind her in an instant. He grabbed a fist
full of her neck with his free hand, his claws digging deep into her throat as
he brought his sword arm around her upper body, trapping her arms to her sides.
She tried to swing her sword downward for a strike at his thigh, but he
anticipated her move. He threw his own weapon aside, snared her forearm with
his now empty hand and stuck his claws into the muscles and tendons, forcing
her to lose her grip. Her sword clattered to the floor. Drake’s deep voice howled
her name.

She expected to
feel her throat being ripped away and was stunned when the room seemed to spin
about. Air rushed around her and Grendhal’s body hit against a hard surface. He’d
retreated into the nearest corner, carrying her with him.

She struggled to
break free, but his arm banded tighter, almost crushing the breath from her
lungs as he drew her closer against his chest. In that instant, she realized
her feet no longer touched the floor. She kicked back and forth with her legs
in desperation. In response, two leathery wings came around and crossed over
her, immobilizing her completely by binding her to him.

And then Grendhal
did something totally unexpected. Beneath the cover of his wings, he released
her arm, withdrew his claws and slid his hand across her body. It came to rest
on her stomach, just over her womb. The small life within her jerked and then
recoiled as if trying to hide. She expected his claws to rip into her abdomen
at any moment. An involuntary whimper slipped from her impaled throat.

Frantically, Evana
searched the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of her mate. She spotted him a few
yards away. Drake stood on shaky legs, looking as if he was about to charge
despite his injuries. Grendhal’s use of her body as a shield was the only thing
keeping him at bay.

Grendhal’s head
dipped, bringing his lips close to her ear. “I have no wish to destroy the life
you carry, but one of us must die this day.” His voice held no anger or threat,
only a sure determination of what must be done. “The timing is unfortunate. I
would have spared your child. Don’t struggle. I promise to make your death as
painless as possible.”

 She couldn’t move.
Grendhal’s strength was unimaginable. No matter how much she strained against
his vice-like arms, she was unable to escape. Evana took one last look at the
man she loved. Their gazes locked, hers tear-filled, his desperate. She held
his image in her mind, closed her eyes and relaxed, accepting her fate.

Grendhal stiffened
and he gasped from the pain of compulsion. His claws slowly sank deeper into
her neck.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Closer and closer
the wraith entered her trap unaware of his danger. Nemesis gave a shudder,
faking signs of weakness to lure him in. She sent a feeble bolt of dark energy
his way, making sure she missed. He responded by increasing his attacks. Powerful
bolts slammed against her shield more rapidly. One thing surprised her. The
wraith was stronger than she had expected. In response, she gathered her
battered defenses inward, drawing him in even more. He rushed to his death.

Like an amoeba
encircling an unwary morsel of nutrition with pseudo pod-like arms, Nemesis
reached beyond the wraith to encompass him within her outer shield. Once
encased in her trap, she could call upon her pilot to help her consume his life
energy as she crushed his dark matter body into harmless particles. She watched
as the wraith halted, his attacks ceased and he tried to retreat. Too late.

*

Bayal shrieked his
rage and frustration at being trapped by the ghost ship. He could not retreat
fast enough to escape through the thin opening slowly closing behind him. His
only hope was his pilot. Without Evana, he was positive Nemesis would not be
able to contain him for long.

Before he became
fully entombed and cut off from Grendhal, Bayal reached out and touched his pilot’s
mind once again. The contact was weak, but it would suffice.
Kill
, Bayal
commanded.
Kill. Kill now.

*

Grendhal gasped as
Bayal attempted to compel him yet again. Hate filled him along with the pain.
His grasp on the female pilot tightened as he glanced toward her mate.
Kill
.
The compulsion took charge. Bayal desperately tried to exert his will,
shrieking his orders. The wraith was in danger. He might be dying. Grendhal
sensed it through the pain Bayal inflicted on him. The idea appealed to him.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t enjoy the thought for long, nor fight the compulsion
any longer. He didn’t want to resist it any more. Kill. He must kill, now.
Grendhal had to obey.

*

Drake gathered what
strength he had left and prepared to make a last-ditch effort at rushing
Grendhal. He realized he was no longer armed, no sword or dagger to fight the
pilot, just his bare hands. His only thought was to free Evana from the alien’s
grasp, and he was fully prepared to die trying.
She must not die.
The
thought screamed inside his mind. Nothing else mattered. The sight of her
surrendering her life to the murderous pilot was too much to bear.

As Grendhal glanced
toward him in triumph, and Drake saw the orange glow taking over once again, he
sprang forward without a second thought. One stride, two more, and he’d use
both his legs to spring forward. Just before he became airborne, a pain like no
other he’d ever experienced erupted low in his
gut, left
side, just below his waist. He dropped to the floor, screaming in agony.

He writhed and
clutched the wound, and felt a small projectile embedded in his skin. He grasped
it and pulled it free. Without even attempting to look at it, he realized amid
the unrelenting pain gnawing inside him he’d been shot with a dart, injected
with something. Drake looked at the alien who held Evana in a death grip. A
tiny pistol-shaped weapon caught his attention. It rested securely within a
coil of Grendhal’s tail, the tip still pressed against the trigger. The next
projectile, filled with golden liquid, aimed straight at him in readiness. He
let the spent dart fall free from his hand as he gave in to the pain once more,
unable to hold back a gut-wrenching scream.

*

Evana renewed her
struggles, crying for her mate as she desperately tried to free herself.
Surprisingly, Grendhal retracted his claws from her throat, but he didn’t
release her.

“I’m free.” Her
captor spoke softly, his voice filled with wonder and relief. “Free at last.”

Ignoring him, she
howled, “Drake!”

An agonized scream
answered her call. Evana struggled harder. “Let me go!” she yelled, unable to
move within the cocoon of Grendhal’s wings.

“Be still, pilot.
You can’t help him.” He spoke to her gently. “I’m sorry for your loss, but you’ll
live, as will your child.”

“No! You evil
monster!” Evana cried, suddenly understanding what had happened to Drake. “You
killed him. He’ll turn into… No!” She struggled and twisted against his arms as
she tried to get away.

“Please don’t waste
your energy, pilot. Nemesis will need you shortly. I’ll ease his pain as best
as I can, slow the process. Return to him when you’re done.”

Evana slumped in
defeat, her eyes focused on Drake. Tears coursed down her cheeks as he suffered.
Unable to help him or go to him, she cried helplessly.

Pilot, come to me
now. I cannot destroy the wraith alone.

“No, Nemesis.
Please help him.” She pleaded out loud before the ghost ship took her from
Grendhal’s hold.

She reappeared
inside the pilot bed, sobbing in grief. “Help him, Nem.”

I am weakened.
Focus the energy. Help me crush the wraith who has caused your pain.

Help him
. Evana repeated
her request before Nemesis funneled the dark energy into her. So much, the
amount came at her so forcefully her only option was to send it out into the
ghost ship’s hungry barrier.

I cannot save him, pilot,
but he will have Justice,
Nemesis assured her.
We must first destroy the
wraith. Focus.

Focusing intently
on the object of her hate, Evana threw every particle of energy Nemesis sent
her toward the wraith. Justice for Drake took the form of vengeance in her
mind. For the next few minutes, her grief had to wait.

* * * *

Even in the midst
of his pain, Drake was aware Grendhal had kneeled down beside him. He felt the
alien touch him, holding him still with one hand.

“I can ease your
pain.”

He forced his eyes
open and focused on the red alien. Grendhal had shed his vampire form. His eyes
were no longer orange or yellow. They were black and glistened like highly
polished obsidian.

Grendhal raked one
of his forearms across two non-vampire fangs, opening deep furrows into his red
skin. Black blood poured from the two lacerations, and it quickly flowed down
to drip into Drake’s open wound. He opened his other arm in the same manner.

He choked back
another scream and jerked from the contact as Grendhal’s blood seeped into his
body. A warm, soothing sensation flowed into him, replacing the freezing,
shard-like pain that had been creeping up his side, crawling within his gut and
pushing down into his groin.

He sucked in a long
welcome breath, his first easy one since being injected with the golden poison.
He didn’t bother trying to stand since he couldn’t feel most of his body
anymore.

“My blood won’t
save you. It’ll only ease your pain for a while and slow the action of the
poison. I deeply regret your death.”

He looked at
Grendhal, and begged, “Then kill me now. Don’t let me turn into one of those
things.”

Grendhal shook his
head, his expression sad. “No. I want you to have the chance I never had.”

“What?” He was confused
by the alien’s response.

“To say farewell to
the ones you love. I’d die a thousand times for one chance to tell my mate and
infant daughter of my feelings for them, but I’ll die and they’ll never know.”

He stared hard at
Grendhal, as if seeing him for the first time. The winged being was still very
powerful in appearance. Without the vampire influence, his body was slightly
smaller and his muscles rippled smoothly under his red skin. He thought
Grendhal would have been one hell of a basketball player if he were human.

A little shocked by
his thoughts, Drake wondered if there was some hallucinogenic quality included
in the wraith’s deadly elixir or the red alien’s blood. He became more
concerned about the possibility as he studied Grendhal’s face.

His features were
flawless, perfection come to life. Brilliant black, almond-shaped eyes with
long, dark lashes were topped by angular brows. He had a straight nose and an
expressive mouth with lips that weren’t too thin. They tilted up slightly at
each corner. No wrinkles marred his countenance. Every feature was placed and
sized to faultless proportion on a head equally perfect. His forehead was
smooth, his cheekbones high and sloped just right to offset a strong jaw line
that angled toward a chin that was both delicate and masculine. His ears were
elegant, long and pointed, sweeping back close beside his head. In one word,
Grendhal was beautiful.

“What are you?”
Drake managed to ask.

“We’re called
Sayers.”

“Sayers,” he
repeated.

Before he could
ask, Grendhal explained. “Our world is far away, in a galaxy much like this
one. It’s part of the super-cluster that includes your Milky Way. “

Still staring,
Drake blurted, “You’re beautiful.”

Holy crap. I’m
definitely poisoned.
He tried to rationalize his thoughts.
I’m dying and my only companion is the
one who killed me. And I’m complimenting him on his looks.
He clenched his
jaw, preventing any further inane comments from escaping his mouth. Since he
was doomed, he could at least try to die with his dignity intact.

Grendhal smiled. Of
course it was a perfectly gorgeous one. “My female told me the same thing.” He
sighed. “On my world, I was considered ordinary, not fit for a breeding mate.”

Drake thought the
females of Grendhal’s world must all be blind. He kept his lips sealed tight,
drew in another deep breath and caught Grendhal’s scent for the first time. The
smell was definitely alien, hardly comparable to anything he knew. Except…he
closed his eyes and inhaled once more, tasting the scent. There was something
vaguely familiar. It conjured up images of a happier time from his childhood.

Perhaps this was
it, the end, he thought. Maybe what he’d always heard was true. As long as you
were alert, your entire life flashed before your eyes as you died. If so, why
did his rerun have to begin with remembrances of holidays spent at home with
his parents? Suddenly, it all made sense. Grendhal smelled a little like
Christmas—spice cake and pine cones with a hint of rum. How could he have
forgotten the rum?

Yes, he was
definitely dying now. Sadly, instead of a jolly old elf dressed in a red suit,
he had a crimson alien Ghost of Christmas Past for a guide into the great
unknown.

Fuck.

He chanced another
look at the alien and saw a painful grimace flicker across the perfect face.
Grendhal smiled in spite of the obvious discomfort.

“I think Bayal is
close to death,” he explained and moved away to settle against the wall. “The
ones I love are safe from him. I’m content to die.”

A cold shard of
pain pricked Drake’s side. He groaned with the next stab. Grendhal’s blood was
giving way to the poison. He glanced at the alien. Grendhal’s eyes had changed
to a dull black color, his lids partially closed. His mouth moved. The voice
that came out was steady but weak.

“Tell Evana if she
ever meets my people, don’t judge them by my actions. We’re a peaceful race,
kind and gentle.” He heaved a tired sigh. “Bayal stole me from my planet and
forced me to do unthinkable acts of evil. I was his instrument of torture for
centuries.”

“If I see her
again…”

Drake’s attempt to
answer was cut off by another sharp pain coiling in his gut, cutting off his
breath. He feared he’d never see Evana again in his present form.

He heard Grendhal
choke and gasp for air. “Drake,” the alien called. Then in a fading voice said,
“Tell her…Lilitu…seeks to destroy…Nemesis. She comes…soon.” He stopped speaking

Amidst his pain,
Drake shouted. “When?”

As he looked to
find him, all he saw was a black fog hovering over the spot where the alien’s
body had been. It dissipated before his eyes.

The pain he’d experienced
before came rushing back with a vengeance. Poisonous cold tendrils of agony
uncoiled inside him, expanding and spreading like cancer as it continued its
quest to consume him. His last coherent thought was of Evana and his unborn
child. The ones he loved were safe and would survive.

* * * *

Nemesis closed the
tomb of Bayal’s destruction tighter around him. She fed joyously on the life
force seeping from the doomed being as the crushing force of her shield pressed
him tighter and tighter against her protective barrier. She enjoyed the wraith’s
final death throes before she pulverized the dark husk of his lifeless body.

Satisfied it was
now safe to de-energize her shields, Nemesis relaxed her defenses. Justice
sprang to life.