Do Or Die [Nuworld 4] (13 page)

Andru’s heart about exploded. Suddenly everything seemed to move in slow

motion. He couldn’t get his hand to the doorknob and open it fast enough before the

explosion hit him from behind.

“What did you say?” Darius pushed away from the window just as Andru opened

the door. “Shut that damn door, I say. Ana, turn around and face me.”

Ana looked up at her brother and then turned around and looked questioningly at

her parents. “I just wondered what a Bachula was.”

“The Bachula.” Tara whispered the words and her face contorted. “Why do you

want to know about the Bachula?”

“I just wanted to know what it is,” Ana mumbled timidly. She didn’t like the hostile

look that suddenly crossed her parents’ faces. “Lara mentioned it and she said it was

illegal.”

“It’s just the most repulsive, disgusting tradition that Gothman can brag about in its

history.” Tara threw her hands up in the air and looked at Darius. He didn’t look at her,

though. His fury turned on his son.

Andru saw the fury growing in his papa’s eyes but refused to look away.

“Lara said something about you and Gilroy.” Ana glanced from the outraged look

on her parents’ faces to the contorted look on her brother’s face, and tears fell down her

face. “I didn’t understand what she was talking about.” She whispered the words and

simultaneously buried her face in her brother’s chest.

“You arrogant, pompous ass!” Tara leapt at her son.

Andru released Ana, and she backed up just as her mama’s fist hit her son square in

the face.

Ana screamed uncontrollably. “Mama, no!”

She leapt to her brother to protect him just as the door flung open. Gilroy flew in

wild-eyed. He stopped instantly as he saw the irate look in Tara’s eyes. She straightened

and looked at the man who’d claimed her daughter.

“Gilroy, have you participated in the Bachula?” Her question threw him so off his

guard his mouth fell open and he turned a ghostly whitish-gray.

“Mama, no! You’re out of line here and you’re upsetting your daughter.” Andru

held Ana firmly to his chest and tears streamed down her cheeks as she looked from

Gilroy to her mama. “If you wish to conduct this preposterous interrogation that is one

thing, but it will not happen in front of Ana.” He looked at his papa and Tara spun

when she saw the unspoken message being sent from papa to son.

Darius moved forward and grabbed Tara by the arms. “Gilroy, take your claim

upstairs and see that she rests.”

Ana went willingly from Andru to Gilroy and he literally lifted her into his arms.

Gilroy glanced at Darius almost waiting to see if there were further orders. But Darius

held Tara with her back to the young men. His eyes rose slowly as he looked from

Andru to Gilroy but he didn’t say a thing.

“Gilroy, what is a Bachula?” Gilroy sat with his back leaning against the headboard

of their bed and held Ana in his arms. Her cheek rested against his powerful biceps and

she felt his muscles tighten.

“It’s an ancient ritual that doesn’t happen anymore.” He planted soft kisses in her

hair and massaged her breasts with his hands.

“What was the ritual? Lara said it looked like you and Andru performed it. What

did she mean?”

“Hundreds of winters ago there was a practice where a soldier could buy higher

rank by offering his claim to his leader. It was a gesture of pure loyalty—the soldier’s

way of saying he would do anything for his lord. In return, the lord would improve the

station of the soldier.”

Chapter Eight

Darius held Tara firmly in his hands while Andru stood silently on the other end of

the conference room.

“Your thoughts need to be clear right now, my lady,” Darius whispered to his

claim.

“Why would she say such a thing by what she saw in the field?” Tara shook her

head and continued to ramble, her fury drawing on the edge of hysteria. “Andru and

Gilroy were at the edge of the clan site talking to my soldiers while Ana and Lara were

over by the trailers. Ana is pregnant and…”

“There was no Bachula, I say,” Darius said firmly.

“How do you know? Were you there?”

Darius looked up at his son—the quickest of glances, his charcoal eyes on fire.

“Mama, there was no Bachula.” Tara turned around in Darius’ arms with hesitation

in her eyes.

“Always, Andru, since you were toddlers, you have showered your sister with your

graces and charm. You hold her and caress her…and you always have. I’ve never

thought anything of it.”

Andru could see hysteria begin to consume his mama. He moved in quickly.

“Mama,” he spoke quietly. “I’ve never touched my sister in that way. You may

believe me.” He put his fingers under his mama’s chin and brought her gaze to his. “I

love Ana as I love you, and I would hurt myself before I would hurt either one of you.”

“Lara will try to blackmail you with this. What could she possibly have against you

to imply such a charge?” Tara leaned against the strength of her claim and looked up

into her son’s handsome face. Lara looked so much like her older sister, Tasha…Beel’s

mama. Tasha’s evil ways and the birth of Beel, Darius’ bastard, had brought him misery

for winters. She wouldn’t let that same misery fall upon her son.

Andru smiled his papa’s crooked smile at her and then looked up at his papa.

Darius watched him with a hawk’s eye.

“Now that’s thinking clearly, Mama. Lara has hatred and evil and that is it. She has

nothing else on me—there is nothing to have. Crator always defeats hatred and evil.”

He continued to smile, his expression confident and relaxed. “Why don’t you go find

out what Balbo has learned? We need to contact her people as soon as possible. I’m sure

we can find grounds to arrest her before the day is over. This matter will be solved

before you go to sleep tonight.”

Tara pulled away from Darius and walked away from both of them, casting a

skeptical gaze over her shoulder.

“Andru, your only fault is that you are the spitting image of your papa and I have

known him for more winters than I have known you. You have created the perfect

creature in Ana, what your papa wanted in me. She will submit to you in any way you

ask.” Tara straightened her shirt and looked at Darius. “This matter is in your hands.

It’s your blasted tradition—you can handle it. I don’t want to hear about it again.”

Andru turned to look at his papa after his mama left and the look Darius gave him

about slammed him to the floor.

“Get Gilroy and meet me back in here in ten minutes.” Darius’ words were ice and

then he walked out of the room to check on Tara. Andru’s hands shook as he reached

for his comm and called Gilroy to the conference room.

When Darius walked back into the room ten minutes later, he stopped to stare at his

son before casting his gaze to Gilroy. The two men looked powerful. Their bodies were

deadly machines and the two of them had worked to obtain powerful positions in his

army. They earned every promotion they gained, but Darius saw more than that. Andru

had gained the respect and loyalty of every Gothman soldier out there and Gilroy had

been his right-hand man since they were boys. They would be an undefeatable team. If

scandal such as the Bachula were cast on them, his son would annihilate the source. Tara

was right. Andru was his spitting image and he wouldn’t put something like the

Bachula past his capabilities.

But such an act was atrocious and rightly outlawed. Conviction of such a crime was

punishable by death, a law his papa, Lord Jovis, had implemented and Darius had

never changed. The ritual didn’t work. It inevitably would cause the two men to turn

against each other. His son would learn this lesson and he would learn it now.

Darius moved quickly. He didn’t hesitate, he didn’t bat an eye, and his expression

gave no indication of what his next move would be. He lunged at his son and pounded

him so hard against the side of his cheekbone that blood splattered when skin hit skin.

Andru took the hit square on and literally flew backwards into one of the chairs.

The chair broke under his weight as he fell to the ground. Gilroy clasped his hands

tightly behind his back and didn’t take his eyes off Darius, anticipating that he might be

next.

Andru rose slowly, his eye quickly swelling shut. “There was no Bachula, Papa.”

“Liar,” Darius hissed. He looked like he would lunge at Andru again and he saw

his son brace himself for the impact. He turned quickly and paced to the other side of

the room, running his fingers through his hair. When he turned back to face Andru, his

fury was under control.

“Andru, you do not own her. She is not yours.” His voice was a stricken whisper

and he saw his son wince. “She belongs to Gilroy and you will leave her alone.”

Andru fought the panic that rose inside him. He could sense Gilroy standing next to

him but knew his friend didn’t look at him. He didn’t dare. Gilroy had given Ana to

him in payment for being named commander over the Gothman army. No man ever

reached such a high rank with as few winters as he had. Gilroy had approached him

and offered him something he never could have obtained on his own—and Gilroy knew

he wanted it with all his heart. Gilroy saw the only weakness Andru had and had

dangled it in front of him. He had offered him his sister. Andru couldn’t refuse. Gilroy

had made the offer winters ago, not knowing exactly when it would happen but

assuring the plan would play through. It had played through at the fools’ festival.

“The Bachula is outlawed for a very good reason…it doesn’t work, no. You start

sharing a woman and passion and obsession will cloud your thinking. Gothman almost

fell to its knees at the hand of obsession and I won’t have it happen again, I won’t.

You’re powerful, Andru. You have what it takes to rule Gothman, hell, to rule Gothman

and the Runners, I say.” Darius stared hard at the two men standing in front of him.

They were strong, handsome, and willful. They would take what they wanted out of life

and discard the rest. And they would work well together as long as they didn’t let a

woman get in their way. Darius turned his attention to his son. “I want you to name a

claim before the next new winter.”

“Papa, I—”