A Warlord's Lady (12 page)

However, Sabra could not help but be alarmed. As the creature moved effortlessly and soundlessly across the room, she realised what he was and the danger that he posed.

It was then that she felt it happen. She stood still and waited.

‘Grey-eyed one?’ the Shadow asked. ‘Where have you gone?’

Sabra stood still, steadying her rapid pulse.

The Shadow Man gently placed the food tray down on the floor at her feet. Sabra looked down at the top of his wide-brimmed hat.

‘Where are you?’ he asked again, and stood towering above her, looking around the room, his face blank but his voice curious.

He turned swiftly to look at the camera on the wall. His movement did not so much as stir the air.

‘Maggie South?’ He spoke up to it. ‘Your grey-eyed breeder has disappeared.’

***

Maggie stared down at the monitor. She could see Felix and Sabra standing there, though Sabra was standing statue still. She moved a red painted fingernail to press on the intercom button, when she saw Sabra start to move. Her hand hesitated, and she watched, expecting Felix to catch her. Instead, Felix stepped closer to the camera and repeated. ‘Maggie, your grey-eyed one has disappeared,’ without a flicker of emotion.

As Maggie pressed down on the intercom to tell Felix that Sabra was, in fact, just behind him, she saw Sabra slip around the tall shadow and through the open door.

Shit!

Maggie slammed down on the intercom. ‘She’s gone into the corridor behind you, Felix. She’s using her sentience activated body armour!
All men into the corridor
. I will guide you, she is still visible via the cameras!’

There was an explosion of activity around her and Shadow Men leaked from every dark nook and cranny.

***

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God,
Sabra mentally screamed as she slipped out the door behind the horrendously creepy Shadow Man. She padded barefoot up the corridor. It was the same institutional décor, but doors lined it. What was behind them, she didn’t have time to find out. She heard Mags’ familiar voice come over the intercom, and swore under her breath.

Still visible through cameras. Damn.
She looked up at the small circular camera at the end of the corridor and flinched.

‘I can see you, Sabra…’ Mags’ voice chortled over the intercom.

As she spoke,
things
started to ooze from the shadows and form — more of the Shadow Men. The corridor was filled with them. They were beginning to make a wall around the corridor, blocking all doors.
Am I still invisible
? she wondered and hurried forward, away from the forming dark mass of shadows.

Mags’ whisky and cigarette voice crackled over the intercom. ‘She’s heading towards the last door at the northern exit of the corridor.’

As one, the Shadow Men’s heads all turned in the direction Sabra moved, although none of those strange grey faces ever looked directly at her.

‘Block that door,’ Mags ordered, ‘I’m coming down.’

‘She is invisible,’ the Shadow Men said all at once. ‘If
we
cannot see her, nor will you.’

There was no response, and Sabra stood paralysed with indecision. What should she do? Could she push past one? Would they then be able to see her? How long did she have until her power gave up and rendered her visible again?

A door creaked to her left and Sabra spun her head around to see Mags enter the corridor holding a mobile telephone up to her eyes and looking through the camera directly at her.

‘Move forward, you, against the far door. She is directly in front of you.’

Sabra turned to face the Shadow Man before her. His face was half shadowed by the wide-brimmed hat they all wore, but his narrow eyes flickered, searching around her vicinity.

‘I do not see her,’ Felix said.

‘Put out your left hand,’ Mags barked, ‘and grab her.’

Sabra let out a startled squeak as the Shadow Man raised his left and slashed it through the air beside her.

‘Must I do everything myself? You useless, vaporous
things
,’ Mags hissed, making a clumsy path directly towards Sabra, never once taking her eyes off the camera. ‘I see you, Sabra. You cannot escape.’ Mags sighed, ‘Really, do we have to be so awkward?’

Sabra’s stomach lurched and with all her might she pushed the Shadow Man before her and attempted to get around him. Alas, as her skin came into contact with the toxic flesh of the Shadow Man, she gasped and slumped.

‘I felt something,’ Felix said, looking around blindly to see what had caused the strange sensation. ‘Is she
touching
me?’

‘Sabra!’ Mags growled a warning, ‘Do not touch Shadow Men!’

It was too late. Felix spun around. ‘Mine!’ he hissed at Mags and took a swipe. ‘She’s mine.’

For one instant, Mags took her eyes of the camera and stared at the blank face of the Shadow Man.

Sabra curled on the floor, cursing her stupidity.

Who willingly touches a Shadow Man?

Still, not allowing herself to panic, she took advantage of Mags’ moment of distraction and scooted on hands and knees towards the door.

Mags dropped the telephone camera and screeched inhumanely at Felix. ‘She’s not yours, you fool! She’s ours! She’s the breeder the mafia want!’

‘She
touched
me,’ he hissed, his narrow eyes searching the corridor.

‘Yes, she touched him,’
the brother shadows echoed.

‘It doesn’t matter!’ Mags screamed, before Sabra catapulted up the stairwell.

The sounds from the corridor receded and Sabra prayed she was still invisible as she made her way up the stairs. She had no idea where she was heading, and going upstairs always seemed like such a bad idea in horror movies. Weakened somewhat by the toxin of the Shadow Man, Sabra stumbled as she reached the landing. There was an open door to her right and she hurried in.

Monitors blazed all around her.

Central Control — boo yeah!
She smiled weakly, and pushed the heavy, vault-like door closed behind her. It clicked with grave finality. Some luck at last.

Within a moment Sabra felt her strangeness shift, and she knew that with no one around she was visible again. Dressed in the same terrible hospital gown, she looked like an escaped mental patient.

She paused on that thought.
Perhaps I am mental
. She mused — the whole situation was so bizarre and unreal. Shadow Men? Maggie South a henchwoman for the Magical Mafia? It was all so ludicrous. Yet as she looked around, Sabra knew it was not madness. The monitors before her flickered with activity. She could hear Mags’ tinny shrieking of rage as she peered through the face of her mobile telephone, scouring the corridor between the Shadow Men.

It wouldn’t be long until they realised she’d probably escaped through the open door and had gone up the stairs.

Sabra scurried over to the vaulted door and studied it, hoping against hope it might be Shadow Man-proof, but as she looked she saw tiny gaps where it joined the door jamb and brushed over the linoleum. The rubber sealing around it was worn and brittle, and tiny holes perforated what should have been solid. A Shadow Man could easily pass through. Sabra shivered and rubbed her sore stomach again.

Keeping half an eye on the monitors, she paced around the room and noticed there were no windows to allow natural light. That was a shame — the Shadow Men could be killed by concentrated natural sunlight. There was a fire extinguisher hanging on the far wall, and an old white coffee cup on a dusty desk. The cup came complete with greasy red lipstick marks and a ring of mildew around the dregs; clearly no one had cleaned up in here for some time. There was a wheelie chair, a telephone, a flickering modem, computer keyboard, hard drive and the intercom. That was it.

I could ring the government, perhaps they could get me out?
Sabra realised. She toyed with the idea for a brief moment but it was interrupted by an intense longing for Cain. She should have gone with him. The truth behind the thought ripped through her like razor wire. She wanted to call
him.
She wanted
him
to save her. Alas, she had no number, and doubted the Warlord would be listed under international direct inquiries.

***

[Excerpt from
Memoirs of a Warlord’s Love Slave
, Chapter 6]

I would often watch him, as I noticed he would often watch me. Sometimes, when I thought I was alone, I’d turn and see him there, watching with hungry eyes. Those eyes. I cannot imagine a description that could possibly do them justice.

‘Sabra,’ he said one day, as I stared over the forest from my balcony. The sound of his voice surprised me; he didn’t often speak at length with me, though sometimes I felt as though he wanted to, but couldn’t find the words.

I turned to face him. He was dressed in army-style cargoes, a far cry from his usual tee-shirt and jeans. He had a mean-looking gun of some description slung over his shoulder, his hair was dishevelled and sweat glistened on his forehead.

‘Yes?’ I croaked, because that was literally all I could do. ‘Is everything all right?’ I asked.

Stupid question.

A slight smile tugged at the corners of Cain’s mouth. ‘Yes,’ he replied.

We were silent for a moment, but I can’t stand silences for long.

‘What do you want?’ I asked, brushing a sticky hand down the silk of my wrap nervously.

‘I want you…’ he murmured, shrugging the gun from his shoulders and laying it down on an ottoman strewn with damp towels, then stepping towards me.

Later, much later, when Cain had gone and I was browsing in post-coital bliss among the books in his den, I heard some of his guards speaking in the corridor. They were discussing the day’s victory over the government. Cain had gained territory and freed a number of naga’s who had been kept in poor conditions, being milked for anti-venom. He’d fought hard, they said, and fought alongside his men, not as something above them, but as one. They spoke in hushed awed tones. Then I heard them mention me. Their tone changed. He’d fought for me, they said — a fat, western Chameleon — and then they’d laughed. I felt something pinch behind my eyes…tears?

The book I’d been holding slipped from my hands and clattered on the stone floor. Silence. As I stooped to pick up the book, I saw the face of one of Cain’s guards poke around the open doorway. His tanned skin flushed as he saw me. He muttered an incomprehensible apology and both men scurried off quickly.

He’d done it for me? Why? Why would he do such a thing if it made him — the glorious warlord — the butt of his guardsmen’s jokes?

I didn’t know then, and I still don’t.

***

Sabra shook her head to clear her mind. Another flashback.

I know now,
she realised grimly.
He wants me for my eggs, just like everyone else.
With that thought she dismissed the desire to phone him.

Taking a deep breath, she glanced at the monitors; the corridor was empty. The Shadow Men had leached into other rooms and were looking for her. Mags was walking up the stairwell towards the control room.

Sabra’s heart began to hammer.

The grainy image of Mags was followed by a shadow. No doubt the one she’d touched.

‘The door is locked.’ Mags’ voice sounded muffled though the thick door. Sabra stared at the door handle wiggling in futility.

The shadow must have said something, but Sabra couldn’t hear him. Suddenly there was a leaching of darkness from beneath the door. Liquid blackness oozed from hundreds of tiny perforations like smoke in your worst nightmare.

Sabra stared around the room, willing herself to become invisible again, but it didn’t seem to work. Not a tingle.
Why?

As a shadow, the Shadow Man isn’t sentient
, she realised with horror. She knew when he reformed his shape he would be more sentient and her ability may kick into gear, but in the interim, what was she to do?

After a moment of deliberation, Sabra stripped off her clothes and began a rapid camouflage job; she didn’t know how successful it would be against a shadow, but it was worth the try. At least if she camouflaged, the cameras wouldn’t be able to see her either.

As her hospital gown fluttered to the ground along with the utilitarian underpants, Sabra shrank back against the wall.

‘She’s in here,’ the Shadow Man said as his body formed from the darkness. ‘Where are you?’ he hissed.

A shiver ran over Sabra’s skin and it puckered with goosebumps, but she didn’t dare move.

The Shadow Man knelt silently and touched the discarded hospital gown with his grey hands. ‘Where are you?’ he repeated. Each syllable was like a splash of cold water sending a fresh burst of gooseflesh over her body.

‘Open the door, Felix!’ Mags’ voice screeched from the other side of the door.

Felix’s head swivelled around and he stared at the door with no expression.

‘Come to me, little grey eyes,’ he crooned.

What did he want?

The door knob jangled as Mags clearly tugged on it to gain entrance. ‘Felix, open the damn door!’ she barked.

The shadow stalked around the room, his darkness affecting what dim light the room contained. Long grey fingers stroked the air, as if checking where she may be. He cocked his head to the side and listened.

‘I won’t hurt you…’ he hissed, ‘come out, come out wherever you are…’ He stepped closer.

Sabra did not like the sound of it.

There was a sudden bang and activity exploded on the screens; the Shadow Man spun away and stared.

Sabra became riveted to the screen, too. Mags appeared to be struggling with an enormous figure.
A familiar figure.

‘Jürgen!’ Sabra breathed, realising belatedly that she had just announced her whereabouts to the shadow. She felt her visage falter and she struggled to create some level of invisibility, but it was failing. The ability was too fickle by far. ‘I’m in here!’ she cried redundantly at the monitor.

Cold hands reached for her, and the smell of dried fish and dust assailed her nostrils. She looked up and found herself staring into the shadow’s face, darkened further as it was by the brim of his hat.