A Warlord's Lady (11 page)

‘Have you spoken to Maggie? Whose side is she on? Where is her allegiance? Mafia or government?’

‘I haven’t spoken to her since I blew her brains out the second time. She was disguised as a government official during the raid. I didn’t recognise her until I caught her scent, but it was too late. I’d shot her.’

Neither man bothered to grimace. ‘I’ll do it a third time, if she’s hurt Sabra,’ Cain growled.

Jürgen shook his head and looked as though he were about to speak, but Cain interrupted. ‘Find her, Jürgen. Make her talk. If you can’t do it, then bring her back here and
I
will.’

Jürgen stilled, in that strange way only a predatory animal can, and for a moment Cain wondered about him, what he was thinking and if his loyal general would stay as such. A
legere intus
spell would tell him without a doubt. Alas, delving into the minds of his most trusted supporters would in itself be a significant breach of trust. Cain prided himself on being a man of honour, and use of the
legere intus
spell could be tantamount to torture. He dismissed the thought, and waited for Jürgen’s response.

‘It will not be so easy to find Maggie. She’ll probably have shifted form, and who knows what she will look like?’

‘Locate her by scent then; you’re an Aufhocker, too. Or perhaps I should get Christy to do it for you?’

The mention of Christy’s name made Jürgen’s face contort, and an animalistic visage shimmered over his features. Every muscle in the bulky German tensed. Jürgen did not like Christy, Cain’s second-in-command, who was currently out surveying the perimeter of the territory.

‘A…werewolf could not hunt an Aufhocker,’ Jürgen growled.

‘Could it not?’ Cain shrugged. ‘Why is that?’

‘An Aufhocker’s sense of smell is better than a were’s by several million times.’

‘Ah…’ Cain felt his lips curl with a smile. ‘The old aufhocker-versus-werewolf. I thought you two would have got over that.’

Again, Jürgen bristled and his face contorted, revealing his twisted true features. Aufhockers really were quite ugly. Canid features erupted pale and hairless from Jürgen’s face. His snout lengthened and Cain could hear muscle and cartilage pop and stretch with the change. Jürgen’s white teeth grew and sharpened. His little eyes sank and moved back on his head and his ears lengthened.

Cain dug in his pocket for his smart phone, observing his shifting guard with dispassion. ‘I see you’re having some issues with all this.’ Cain paused. ‘I understand the conflict of interest you may be suffering here. I’ll call for Christy, shall I?’

Jürgen growled, and somewhere in the depths of his small blue eyes Cain could see he was baffled by his own reaction. It had been many years since Jürgen had shifted into his true form without willing it.

‘I can track Maggie,’ he growled, sounding more dog-like than human.

It was true, Jürgen
could
track Maggie, and probably much quicker than Christy could. Aufhockers had some basic magic skills but a werewolf had none, and as such, Christy would have to be accompanied by one of Cain’s other magicians.

There was little doubt in Cain’s mind that Maggie would know where Sabra was. It seemed that she stuck to Sabra like shit to a sneaker. Jürgen would be able to sniff her out — if he wanted to.

Jürgen looked uncomfortable but his temper was calming, allowing his features to twist and return back to the usual ruddy, unattractive Aryan he chose to appear as.

Cain knew what he was asking Jürgen would be a betrayal amongst his traditional community. There were very few Aufhockers still in existence; those who’d survived the European Middle Ages had been swiftly executed in post-holocaust Germany for their ties with the fascist regime of Hitler. Jürgen himself had barely escaped the Hague alive.

Jürgen, Maggie and a small number of others had escaped, some to Brazil, others to Mexico and Canada. Jürgen had headed to South East Asia, where he’d met Cain, and Maggie fled to Australia, where she’d probably ingratiated herself with the Australian chapter of the Magical Mafia and eventually the government.

They were a fragmented group of magical beings to be sure, but Cain didn’t doubt for one moment that the ties amongst them were strong. He’d seen Jürgen’s instant reaction when Maggie had come up to him in that bar in Vientiane. He’d been pleased to see her and the kiss they’d shared was genuine. Some part of his general loved Maggie South, despite the fact they always seemed to be on opposite sides.

‘I understand this sits badly with you, Jürgen. All jokes aside, I am giving you a bail-out option. Christy can do it if you will not.’

He watched Jürgen carefully for any further indicator of unease.

Jürgen, it seemed, had learned his lesson from their scuffle earlier and merely inclined his big blond head.

‘I will do as you wish, my lord.’

Days had passed. Sabra stared out the window, feeling numb. Maggie would come for her injection soon. The regular visits from Maggie had been the only thing that broke up the monotony of her day. Her belly was swollen, and her breasts sore. Sabra knew without asking that they could come and harvest her eggs soon. The thought made a cold sweat erupt over her body and shiver down her spine.

Countless times she’d tried to use her special talent to try and escape, but something — she was not sure what — stopped it from occurring.

Her room was not so different from the linoleum-lined medical room she’d first awoken in. The grey linoleum covered the floors and the first half of the walls. A single, lonesome-looking camp bed with a white hospital blanket completed the picture. They had taken her clothes, so she was dressed in a white hospital gown, tightly done at the back. If she did happen to escape she would attract serious attention dressed as she was. There were no books, there was no television. Nothing, until Maggie brought her a meal — a small metal tray presented and laid down on the cold linoleum.

Again she tried to camouflage — her body shifted to grey, but otherwise she didn’t sense the peculiar sensation. Was it because no one was there? Could she only use her mental ability when someone was present? She had no idea.

The scene outside the window was a dull one. Through the institutional beige of the vertical blinds, safety mesh patterned the world outside. All she could see was the rippling surface of a pale cement-sheeting fence, and a weed-ridden red paved path below. She could see the top part of a wall and the roof of the next-door house, but that was it. There were no other distinctive features. She had no idea where she was. Why, she may even be out of Perth for all she knew.

Sabra heard her own sigh echo around the horridly boring room.

‘Maggie!’ she called, and looked directly into the small camera situated in the far corner of the room. ‘Please come, I’m bored. You know this is a form of torture, don’t you?’

There was no reciprocal noise. Nothing stirred but the dull hum of the ducted heating system that warded away the cool autumn nights.

‘Agh,’ Sabra groaned, feeling increasingly distressed. ‘Please! I know I’m just your oocyte production machine but…seriously!’ She stomped down on the hard floor and her foot slapped against it. It made her wince.

Then the tears came.

Hormones
.
So many freaking hormones.
The daily injections were wreaking havoc with her mental state. She was alternately as horny as a puppy, or overwhelmingly distressed.

I should have gone with Cain.
Her body cramped with sexual tension. She felt wetness seep into the utilitarian white underpants she’d been supplied with.

Had she been at home she may have touched herself to relieve the pressure, but her blurry teary gaze caught the camera in the corner of the room. She would not lower herself to that.

She felt such a fool.

***

From the control room upstairs, Maggie watched the grainy image on the screen dispassionately, as Sabra hunched on the bed and rocked.

Faustus had returned to headquarters and left her in charge of the oocyte harvest. From the smell of Sabra, the first harvest should occur in two days’ time; she’d give her an ultrasound tomorrow, just to check.

She glanced to her left. The cook had made Sabra a meal, a healthy one at that. Leafy greens and vegetables spilled over the plate and lean steak seeped bloody juices that soaked into the pile of mashed potato. Her own stomach growled, not for the vegetables, but the steak. With a red-clawed hand, she picked up the steak between her thumb and forefinger. The meat dripped, leaving a bloody trail. Maggie brought the meat to her nose and flared her nostrils, inhaling the rich odour. She could feel a trickle of saliva dribble down her chin in anticipation. Carefully, ignoring the droplets that fell onto her jeans, Maggie took a bite. Moist, meaty heaven. She groaned, almost sexually, and chewed slowly before swallowing. Reluctantly she placed the bitten steak back down on its plate. She’d have to eat soon.

Brushing her blonde hair from her face, Maggie turned away from the monitor and gazed at the gloomy space behind the open door.

‘Felix?’ she called. ‘Would you be so kind as to go and deliver our little breeder her meal?’ she called.

From the dark shadow behind the door, something oozed into form. Mags watched, only mildly interested as the shadow took human form.

Within a moment, a man, tall with sharp strangely craggy features, stepped from the shadows.

‘There you are,’ Mags muttered, licking her lips surreptitiously and rubbing the greasy droplet of meat juice into the thick denim of her jeans.

‘Here I am.’ Felix’s voice was soft and almost as incorporeal as his shadow form. He had narrow, black eyes that never blinked. Mags found him unnerving.

‘Take this to the breeder. I can’t leave the control room until Faustus returns.’

Felix looked at Mags, his eyes narrowing further to thinner slits, the only indication of his displeasure as the rest of his face remained immobile and mask-like.

They both knew that Shadow Men weren’t meant to serve, but debts had to be repaid and the Shadow Man community owed Faustus a great deal of money — and the mafia made sure
all
debts were repaid.

‘As you say.’ He bowed slightly, but his body posture emanated displeasure.

Felix approached soundlessly. His hand, an inhuman grey in colour, reached out and clasped the tray on which Sabra’s food and drink sat. He held it with difficulty.

Mags sniffed the air, trying to scent the Shadow Man. Not one molecule of his scent hit her olfactory senses. She shivered.

Felix’s cold eyes held hers unblinkingly, his face shadowed by the brimmed hat worn by all his kind.

Shadow Men were universally hated, incorporeal at will, highly intelligent, expressionless and scentless — they were a threat to all and sundry and Mags hated them.

‘Are you going to feed her? Or do I get a laser ray and zap your head?’ Mags drawled, picking up a cigarette from the packet and toying with it.

‘I’d like to see you try,’ Felix hissed. ‘Do you know what happens if you miss a Shadow Man’s head? I’m sure you do…’

Mags fought her creeping unease, and lit a cigarette as she uttered a spell. Pale white smoke circled up around her head, and she blew it in the direction of the Shadow.

His grey shadowed face did not flinch.

‘You get split up and form more Shadow Men, I know. Doesn’t sound like a fun way to reproduce…’ She paused, smiling. ‘But you should also know, I’m a damn good shot — I never miss.’ She took a drag from her cigarette while her other hand fondled the laser pointer that hung from the keys clipped to her belt.

Felix continued to stare, expressionless. ‘Maggie South,’ he whispered in his creepy voice. ‘You know as well as I — that all magical beings supposedly have rights and were afforded the same protection as their human counterparts. To harm me would be not only breaking the Living Rights conventions implemented by the United Nations, but break the pact we Shadow Men have with your Magical Mafia and your
boss
.’ The word boss hung in the air like a web.

‘Yeah,’ Mags agreed and exhaled a plume of smoke. ‘But, you’ve got to admit, accidents can happen in the sunniest city in Australia.’

It was strange hearing a chuckle from an expressionless face, but Felix managed it. ‘Do you intend on forcing me into full sunlight, just because you don’t like me?’

‘Nobody likes Shadow Men,’ Mags retorted. ‘That’s why you’ve slipped through the gaps of the Living Rights conventions, and that’s why there’s a Bright Light Taskforce active in Perth attempting to destroy your kind. That’s why your numbers are dwindling.’

Felix moved silently closer and he leaned down close to Maggie’s face.

‘
That’s
why
we
made a deal with your mafia.’ With his free hand, Felix caressed a line down Mags’ cheek. His hand was long, thin and grey. His touch slid like an ice cube down her skin, leaving a wet slimy trail. ‘
That’s
why
you
won’t hurt me…’

‘Fuck off!’ Mags growled, and rolled her chair away. The touch of a Shadow Man was toxic. She was an Aufhocker, and a particularly robust one at that, but the trail left by his touch wasn’t healthy even for her. ‘Go and feed Sabra.’

Without another word, Felix slunk from the room.

Mags twisted her chair back around to face the monitors and watched him slink away, a grainy amorphous shadow, down the dimly lit corridor.

***

Sabra heard the door creak open, lifted her head, and wiped the crystals of dried tears from her cheeks.

‘Maggie?’ she asked, as she rubbed her bloated stomach and stood to greet her.

The smell of food wafted in with the momentum of the door opening and her stomach growled audibly. However, instead of Maggie’s familiar worn face, a dark shadow crept from beyond the open door.

Sabra felt her stomach clench and her throat tighten.

What the hell is that?

She backed away towards the bed, staring.

‘Don’t be alarmed grey-eyed one.’ The shape gained form; the shadow grew into a tall man holding the silver tray of food. ‘I bring you food, not harm.’