Dead of Eve (38 page)

His hands stilled. “Allah’s chosen race will not drink the blood of mortals. I am perfecting the genetics.”

“Perfecting what genetics? You mean trial and error?”

All at once, he stormed to the back wall and stooped over a dark mound, hands digging through shapeless blobs. Fleshy smacks and revived decay filled the air. A baby’s cry escaped the pile and tiptoed up my spine.

He flung something at the cage. It clipped the bars and flopped to the floor.

“Look closely, Eveline. Look at the abomination.”

Heart pounding, I leaned forward. A tiny genderless body curled on its side. A bony leg angled backwards, jerking. Small wet noises crept from a fanged mouth. The human chest deflated. The spasms ceased.

I buckled over and buried my mouth in my shoulder. A succession of gagging pushed through. “This child’s not any less human than you.”

He charged the cage and kicked the baby across the room. Bones cracked when it hit the wall. My heart cracked with it.

“You are the key to fix this.”

His DNA was altered with aphid and spider genomes. Didn’t that make him the very thing he considered unworthy of survival? If the doctor were there, would he have defended that shit?

A pinch yanked my gut, like a hook on a line. I followed it to the torment strung to the ceiling. She didn’t move, but her soul flickered and clung to me. I embraced the connection. The beat of her heart fell in sync with mine. Then it slowed. The thread between us snapped. Energy scattered through the room and dissipated.

The Drone followed my gaze. In a blur, he was at her side, hand on the pulse at her throat. “Eveline,” he called without turning around. “Bone in or bone out?”

“What?”

“Bone out then.” He jumped, cleaving to her body. The hooks ripped through her palms. He landed, gripped her neck and cracked it over his knee. The protruding spinal column gleamed in the artificial light as he swung the corpse toward the wall, where it joined the decomposing mound.

More bile pushed past my teeth, splattering my lap. My hands wrenched in the binds as I screamed, “The baby. Her baby.” Oh Christ, why didn’t he save it?

He stared at the ceiling, exhaled, then shot me a piercing look. “She was only two-weeks into gestation.”

Impossible. “Why did she die?”

“Few survive the gestation period. She was especially weak. “

“She was a child.” The burn in my throat roughened my voice as I asked the question my survival hinged on. “Why do you want them broken?”

A wave rippled through his cloak. “A broken winged bird cannot fly.”

Neither could a heartbroken woman. Roark was the bandage that bound my wounds and held me together. My scars ripped open when I thought he was dead. Was there a limit to what I could endure to save him? And if I failed, would I have anything left to save myself?

The empty hooks rotated lazily, waiting.

He leaned closer to the bars. “I will break you.”

I’d make damn sure he wouldn’t. But when he unbuckled his brother’s straps, my gut ignited.

The naked man stood on wobbly legs and swiped sputum from his chin. Muscles bucked in his chest and his red-veined eyes narrowed on the Drone.

“Lower your eyes!” The Drone’s shout was a thunderclap, sending my chin into my chest though I knew it wasn’t directed at me. “Very good. Now we had an agreement. You have earned your reward.”

I could guess what that meant. I readied my muscles. Get him on his back. Put him in a choke hold. Then what? Use him as a hostage to get past the Drone? Piece of cake.

The Imago sauntered toward my cage, erection guiding his way. He dismantled the lock and gripped my ankles with sweaty hands. Gravel scraped my back as he dragged me out. I twisted a leg free, hooked it around his.

He stumbled but stayed on his feet. His foot shot toward my face. I rolled to my stomach, panting. He panted, too, crawling atop me, crushing the air from my lungs.

The Drone’s boots paced by. “Dear brother, shall I retrieve her incentive?”

Roark. My cheek touched the floor, exhales steaming on the crumbling stone. “That won’t be necessary.”

Hard-on jabbed in my back, I lay on my stomach and absorbed the enormity of my nightmare. First, he would rape me. Probably in the next few moments. Probably on the sawhorse. Then he would repeat the violation day after day until my womb rounded with…what? A child? A monster? Between coitus, they’d hang me from the hooks. If I fought them and lost, they’d bring in Roark. If I cooperated—my stomach lurched—I’d have nine months to plan my escape. They wouldn’t kill me until I delivered. Or worse, they would never kill me.

The ice cold hand of fear took hold of me. It closed my eyes so I couldn’t see and clung to my skin in cold beads of sweat. I tasted it on my tongue as my back teeth carved more gashes in my cheeks.

He flipped me over, gripped my jaw and widened his own. A purple stump bobbed around the shouts gargling in his gullet. His other hand held his dagger at my throat, slid it down my sternum. As it cut through the robe and chemise, it caught the leather string around my neck. My turquoise rock spun through the air and landed on the heap of bodies.

My muscles screamed to retaliate. Inhale. Exhale. I would survive whatever they dished out, with Roark and my soul intact. “Do your worst.”

The hilt jarred my teeth, whipping my head back. Pain shot through my neck. He used that moment to force my legs apart and kneel between them.

I writhed and bucked, tried to roll from under him. His hand captured my throat and squeezed. My lungs labored and the room dimmed.

“Siraj.” The familiar voice pushed through the wave of pain.

The doctor’s black eyes came into focus above us. “My recommendation stands, stronger now than ever, that we run more tests before our human host conceives.”

Human host? I wanted to stab him. And hug him.

The Imago released me and threw up his hands, eyes flashing. “Ro ew ell.”

“I agreed to help you under my terms, Aiman. I expected your trust in this partnership. I will not wager our only human host for your brother’s lasciviousness. If you value my expertise and this partnership, you will heed my counsel.”

Lines formed below the ridge of the Drone’s cap. “Imago, leave us.”

Spit landed on my face through the Imago’s incoherent utterance.

“Now.” The Drone’s voice sent a shiver through my bones.

He rolled to his feet and stomped out.

The Drone hauled me up. “I’ve told you before,” he said to the doctor, “you will refer to me as the Drone. And our host is evolving.” He spun me, pointing my back to the doctor. “You see?” His finger dug into my shoulder blade. “We cannot wait. You have one week to validate your tests. In that time, we will not compromise her.” He shoved me toward the doctor and bent over to clutch his side. “One week.”

A shirt fell over my shoulders. The doctor tugged me up the stairs, the lab, more stairs. I tripped and spat blood on the landing. He caught my waist and didn’t slow.

I kept his pace. “They were pretty intent on breaking me and impregnating me. How did you deter them so easily? And why?”

A tremor moved through his arm where it wrapped around my shoulders. “They celebrate and fear your survival in equal measures. My warning gave the fear more bite.” He gave me a sidelong glance. “The why is more complicated.”

Moonlight showered the quadrangle. The proximity of the fortress’ exit arrested my feet. The tide howled. The scent of sea plants and stranded shellfish invaded my nose.

He looked out toward the stone archway, conflict waging in his face.

The Imago stood at the center of the open area formed by three main wings of the fortress, blocking the exit, surrounded by aphids. He raised his dart gun, shooting them at random.

Glowing green skin hissed. A series of exploding bodies popped. Insides became outsides. Cooked organs and flesh simmered where they once stood. The remaining aphids skittered back.

“Let’s go.” The doctor gripped my hips and heaved me over his shoulder. I kneed his chest. He tightened his hold and proceeded down the corridor, back to my cell.

We ascended the stairs. The wound on my heart flared as Roark’s door disappeared from sight. The last few hours burrowed further inside me with each step. By the time we reached the chamber, images of the raped nymph and the baby’s twitching leg had burned into my eyes.

He locked the gate and removed my shackles. If he noticed his comrades’ brutality in my swelling face, he didn’t show it. He stood a punch away, watching me, expressionless. A barricade to my freedom.

I shot a straight right jab and startled when the punch connected.

He bounced backwards. Blood gushed from his nose. His eyes crept up to meet mine.

I shook out my hand. “I. Hate. You.”

He winced. “Anger and hate are signs of weakness. You’ve witnessed that first hand today.”

I charged. He lifted his forearm to block his face. I hooked my arm under his, twisted and used the bottom of my foot to sweep the back of his leg. His shoulder collided with the floor.

Surprised by the easy take down, I jumped up and away. He rolled to his hands and knees and stared up at me.

“Why aren’t you fighting back?”

He dropped his head. Blood gathered on the tip of his nose and dripped to the floor.

I slammed a knee to his side and knocked him over. “I don’t care if you are giving this freely so long as you’re feeling pain.”

He lay on his side, offering an easy kick to his gut. “
Nannakola,
this is not as painful as the hate in your eyes every time you look at me.”

I froze in mid-kick and dropped my foot. His expression transformed, swamped with warmth, compassion, attractiveness even. It wrapped around me like a hug. Did he lie to the Drone about my IUD? At the very least, he stopped the Imago from raping me.

There was the corroded wobble in my gut again. “What do you want?”

“To give you something. It’s in my pocket.”

At my nod, he pulled himself to his feet and dug in his pants. He reached for my palm and uncoiled a leather strap over it.

Black and tan hairs matted the ties. My throat burned as I turned it over.
Darwin
was seared in the tanned skin.

Eros will have naked bodies; Friendship naked personalities.

C.S. Lewis

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE: EROS’ NEEDLE

“Where’s Jesse?”

“The savage? No doubt he’s sharpening the axe he threatened to use in the removal of my manhood.” The doctor crossed and uncrossed his arms. “He intends to rescue you.”

“And you intend to stop him.”

“No.”

I chewed on my lip and tried to suppress the hope offered by the collar in my hand. I thought I lost Jesse in Dover.

“He sent a message.
Wanunhecun
for the third time.”

Three mistakes. He said
wanunhecun
after he misjudged my ability to handle weapons. I scratched the scar on my chest. I knew he would take responsibility for my attack in Dover. The third? My kidnapping? “He was at River Tweed?”

“He arrived as we boarded the chopper. He almost freed your priest but the army pushed him back.”

“And what? Now he’s here? On Malta? How’d you get this?” I held up the collar.

“Last night. When I left here, I crossed the quad to my quarters.” His jaw clenched. “An arrow missed my head by millimeters.”

A smile tipped the corners of my mouth. “He doesn’t miss. He wanted your attention.”

“Mm.”

Jesse tried to free Roark and didn’t kill the doctor. Apparently, he wasn’t threatened by either man. Giddiness rushed through me. “What did he say?”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the next.

I laughed. “He threatened you. Tell me.”

A sigh. “He said if you get so much as a scratch while on my watch, he will scalp me slowly as he asphyxiates me with my own intestine.”

I touched my swollen jaw. “You’ve got more problems than I do.”

His face fell. Something flooded his eyes as they drifted over my injuries. Then it was gone.” He demanded the combinations to yours and the priest’s cell. He has a chartered boat. And bodyguards. He’s thorough.”

How would he get through undetected by the Drone’s network of aphid communication? Through them, the Drone had eyes and ears everywhere.

“I gave him the combinations.”

My pulse jumped. “So he’s coming?”

“He came this morning.”

That morning. My eyes shot to the door and the shreds of splintered wood on the floor. “Fuck. The Drone retrieved me around dawn. That was my fault.” My hand went to my stomach. “I called him somehow.”

His face remained empty.

“But Roark…he’s—”

“Free.”

“Free? Jesse got past the guards?”

A watchful nod. “Right under Aiman’s nose. You had him thoroughly distracted.”

Air whooshed from my lungs and with it a heavy weight. I sat on the bed and rubbed my temples, the leather strap wound around my fingers. It caressed my cheek and brought a flood of remembered scents. Dog breath. Mountain yews. Hickory coffee. The same memories stirred by my turquoise rock.

“That Iraqi bastard took my necklace.”

He regarded me as closely as I him. “I’ll get it back.”

I couldn’t see past the damn facade that always blanked his face. How could I trust him? Could he have overpowered Jesse? Captured him and collected the collar? No, I had Jesse’s message.

“I wasn’t the only one distracting the Drone. Did you know they have an incest thing going on?”

A stray lock fell over his brow. “It’s not consensual.”

“No, figured that much out.” My fingers itched to brush his hair back, to see if it was as silky as it looked. And why was that? Jesse remained an unreachable fascination. Roark filled in the void in my heart and kept his off limits. I didn’t need the doctor to make things more confusing. Focus, Evie. “Why did Jesse give you the collar if he planned to rescue me himself?”

“Backup plan. In case he didn’t make it. He wanted you to know you could trust me. Like I said, he’s thought of everything.”

“Why would he trust you?”