Excessica Anthology BOX SET Winter (42 page)

"I
can see you're quite anxious to secure your prize and be on your way, Eve, so
if you'll just follow me into my cabin, I'll fetch the donation. Right this
way, if you please."

Eve
took a last look around the inside of the ancient ship's hull, seeing yet more
curious items, yet turned sharply on one high heeled boot, and dutifully
followed Nathan into his cabin.
Perhaps on her way out, she might take a
peek...

The
tomb-silent temple endured a sharp snick as Nathan closed the door behind Eve,
and turned to the business at hand. In the old temple, several long moments of
pregnant silence dripped by. And then, the first bronze statue bristled,
flashed a hungry snarl...and moved.

"It's
just in here. Now, if you wouldn't mind waiting on the other side of this
cabin, Miss. Only take a minute to work the password, open the chest, and then
I'll see you safely on your way, Miss Finche."

"Eve.
You were going to call me Eve. Miss Finche makes me feel old remember?"

"You're
hardly that...Eve."

Behind
his broad back, Eve smiled. The strange church's 'safe' was an old sea
chest–the pirates' treasure chest kind Eve read about in her dime novels.
Yet, instead of a huge rusty old lock, Nathan bent over an elaborate keyboard,
deftly working his fingers, and whispering an occasional alien-sounding phrase.

In
seconds, Eve heard the whirr of tiny gears, and watched as the silver keypad
expelled a small puff of dusty steam. At the same time, the battered sea chest
popped open.

"Here
we be, Eve. Your prize, all safe and sound."

On
the other side of the spacious cabin, Eve tried not to stare at Nathan's unmade
berth, and busied herself checking out a rack of most unusual weaponry. At the
moment Nathan announced he had her documents, she'd been happily discovering
the bleached jawbone of a huge Sand Tiger shark.

"Oh–that's
splendid, Nathan." Whirling around to secure her prize, the tips of three
of Eve's fingers accidently brushed across the razor points of the dead shark's
teeth. "Ouch! Oh my God–this really hurts!"

"Here,
let me look," commanded Nathan. "What've you done to yourself, my
dear?"

Nathan
Squalus bent his head over Eve's damaged fingers, and gently slipped her
blood-stained pearl grey glove off her injured hand. Seeing her bloodied
fingertips, he rose, crossed the room to a small mahogany cabinet, and returned
with a small tray loaded with medical supplies.

For
her part, Eve realized the wounds were mere scratches, but discovered the
concerned priest was even more attractive close to, so she began to whimper,
making the most of her mishap. Escalating her dramatics towards a wavering
faint– what with her corset so very tight, she really couldn't breathe
this close to such an arousing man–she totally missed Nathan's sly
acquisition of a blood sample.

Finished
administering first aid, he packed up his medicinal jellyfish ointment, and
deftly smeared his sample of Eve's blood on a glass slide. Blocking her
semi-conscious view with his broad back, he manipulated a half hidden brass
microscope until he saw the results he'd hoped for. She was perfect

Turning
back to Eve with a smile befitting a cat about to devour a caged canary, he was
pleased to see the young woman barely clinging to consciousness. Carefully
lifting Eve, he carried her across his cabin, laying her gently on his bed.

Eve
managed to throw both her arms around Nathan's neck, clinging desperately to
her hero, and brazenly drawing him down to the rumpled bed on top of her.

Nat
let his long fingers stray to her high silken collar, and begin undoing its
tiny buttons. With Eve's graceful neck finally bare, he tried to ignore the
giddy pull of her rich blood pulsing through her pale throat, as he began
fumbling with the long parade of pearly buttons still protecting the modesty of
her straining breasts.

Eve
slapped away his clumsy digits, refusing to notice the translucent webbing
quivering between his fingers, as she finished unbuttoning her fancy shirtwaist
herself. Murmuring endearing encouragement, she shimmed herself out of her long
hobble skirt, and lay back on his unmade bed, beckoning him to join her with one
long slender red-tipped finger. Her heart thundered like a cavalry charge as
she eagerly awaited his hesitant invasion, clad only in her flimsy shift,
over-tight corset, and high-button boots.

Impatient
to begin, Nathan drew a small knife as well as a startled gasp from Eve, and
deftly snipped apart the silk ribbons lacing her corset. Tossing the useless
garment aside, it fell like a forgotten flounder corpse against the wall,
instantly forgotten. He smiled, and began milking Eve's young breasts as he eased
her pale thighs apart, and prepared to ram himself inside.

Their
sex was primitive. Bestial. Half mad with desire, Eve pulled him down into her
feverish body. He answered savagely. They swept into a frenzy, grabbing
fistfuls of clothing or tumbling hair, kissing with enough force to bruise
hungry lips, and grinding their bodies into each other with enough force to
flatten bone. At one point, Eve tried to speak; Nathan quickly smothered her
lips, and her urgent words bled out of her head. She tried to rise again; he
shoved her back into the rumpled bed clothes, spread her legs, and stabbed
himself inside. Eve screamed, yet when he moved to retreat, she dug her claws
in and hung on like a remora, urging him to dive deeper, so very much deeper.
She screamed again, as much in crazed ecstasy as outright pain.

Nathan
recovered first. He remembered instantly all that had happened, and smiled. His
smile held no warmth.

He
lay atop Miss Finche, still buried deep inside her. Her nails were still in his
shoulders, half-burrowed deep in his flesh. He could still behold her wide
disbelieving eyes when she'd first seen the size of his beast, and he'd first
plunged it into her. Ah, the sheer joy of taking a virgin! A remembered joy too
long in returning. He could tell he'd thrilled her; given the little spitting
hellcat more joy in the last ten minutes than she'd experienced in all her
eighteen years. The naive little bitch owed him! Big time.

* *
* *

As
Eve fastened the last tiny button to her torn blouse, she heard scuffling and
low whispering behind her. Turning around, she discovered Nathan had been
joined by two silent brothers, their leering faces lost in the looming shadows
of their kelp green cowls.

"N-Nathan–what
is this? Who are these men–why are they here?"

"These
are some of my fellow shipmates, Evangeline, my dear. They've come for
you
.
I'm afraid it's time to
pay
for our most generous donation. Mr. Irons,
Mr. Smiley, if you please–seize the poppet!"

"Nat–what
are you doing? I let you have your way with me! Surely, as their captain, you
can stop this!"

"Alas,
girlie, I'm not the captain–merely her mate. But don't worry my dear, I
make it a policy never to
share
my pleasures."

But
I-I trusted you! You seemed so...nice!"

“I'm
afraid I lied, my dear. Don't worry. Your cause will have its worthless coins.
Our god does not seem to like the clink of gold. But there is
something
I must demand, Miss Finche. There is always a price. Nothing is ever quite
free.
You
will pay that price Miss Finche. I was really quite surprised
when Agnes sent someone so young and pretty. Most generous of her, Spinster
Snodgrass. But then, she has been a church elder for eons, and knows exactly
what I require. Bring her, my brothers. Bring her to the altar at once.”

"W-what
are you going to do to me? You're not going to–I have money! My family is
very wealthy!"

Miss
Finche, this isn't one of your cheap romance novels. We're not about to ravish
you, or murder you, if that's what you fear. Oh no, you'll serve a far more
important need. Your blood assures me you were a virgin, the perfect choice. Of
course you were. Barely eighteen, a ripe bud about to bloom as another of the
society's hothouse beauties. I'd guessed you had no experience of men yet. How
utterly charming. You really are quite perfect!"

Eve
shrieked and squirmed, but to no avail. Her brief struggle bled sound as the
weird chanting priests dragging her away were swallowed by shadows as black as
the darkest soul.

* *
* *

Nathan
Squalus kept his word. His followers had no interest in ravishing Eve. Though a
few of the baser crewmen did indulge in a little subtle fondling, their reason
for luring the young woman into their trap had nothing to do with the carnal.
Through the fish-barren years they’d all been forced to make sacrifices in the
hope the vast schools of menhaden, cod, and bluefish might return to their
shores. Long dark rituals whispering ancient best-forgotten mantras, forbidden
couplings with vile partners from the sea, the spawning of repulsive
freaks–oh yes, all the hooded crewmen now shuffling into this dark
chamber had 'sacrificed'. Now, it was Eve's turn. Perhaps the blood of an
innocent, a recent virgin, would finally satisfy their need.

Eve
grew quiet as they dragged her back into the belly of the ancient ship. She should've
seen the trap they’d laid for her, and guessed what they were about. She’d been
so naïve, but then, the desire to feel Nathan's gorgeous body on top of her had
bewitched her. Glancing heavenward, she verified it was late; as though part of
this vile treachery, the sun had long fled the sky. At home, her family would
be stirring to action, desperate to find what had happened to her. Father would
be questioning her maid, Bridget, as to his irresponsible daughter's
whereabouts. No doubt Bridget would soon bleed the information. Father could be
very persuasive.

Oddly,
Eve chose to cease struggling, no longer exhibiting fear. Believing she knew
what was to come; she hung limply between her rough captors, gathering her
strength and observing all around her. She already knew that the mutating
sailors around her had once been ordinary men, and most of the fish, their
parish's livelihood, had vanished a good twenty years back. She learned they’d
turned to their god–some sort of disgusting marine deity it seemed–
for salvation, but so far, he’d never listened to their cries and pleas for
salvation. So little by little, they’d sacrificed their humanity, committed
unspeakable acts and been rewarded with nothing but some disturbing body
changes and disgusting spawn. In the dim light of a hundred candles she’d
glimpsed webbed fingers, unblinking eyes, over-wide mouths, and strange
pulsating slits beneath a number of chins. Then out of the festering shadows
oozed a strange wet shambling, as one of their repulsive spawn slithered into
the greenish candle light. Oh God, did they expect her to couple with this
disgusting…thing?

It
was obvious the bent and misshapen creature was not a mutant off-spring but
some pitiful obscenity who'd once been human. Nathan was talking to her now,
proudly declaring the revered Ancient before her was founder of their temple,
and their original ship's captain.
A woman.
The thing had flat dugs, all
that remained of her once much-coveted breasts. She'd once been known as
Lavinia Katarina Ironweed, captain of the privateer,
Heathen Princess
.
She had brought an ancient stone idol to their shores, hoping to bring them
salvation with some primeval god. Instead, it seemed she’d cursed them all with
a slow death. Until now. It seemed only fitting as their founder, her maw
should be the one to first partake of Eve's pure virginal blood.

Commanding
two brood-brothers to lay Eve on their coral-encrusted altar, and hold one of
her arms rigidly straight, Nathan ripped open one lacy leg of mutton sleeve. Tapping
up a fat vein, he drew his obsidian black coral blade swiftly across her arm,
cupping the scarlet fountain in a verdigris rich goblet. Once full, Nathan
quickly took this to his captain, and gently urged his palsied elder to drink.

Weak
from blood loss, Eve lay meekly and watched the goblet find the old blind
beast’s maw. As Nathan's repulsive mate quaffed her rich red blood, Eve gaped
at the strange transformation that had afflicted Captain Lavinia. That she was
more fish than woman was obvious; she had all the signs: webbed clawed hands,
unblinking eyes, thick lipped wide mouth…even flapping gill slits. With
something akin to hopeful joy Eve noticed Lavinia's human afflictions as well.
Her obvious blindness as thick barnacle-like encrustations crowded in on both
opaque eyes; but there were other problems too, evident in her weak reed-thin
limbs, bloated yellowed belly and mottled slimy flesh. The old cod bitch was
dying, and Eve doubted anything even as rich as her own stolen blood would save
her. With vengeful glee, she heard Lavinia begin to vomit, stumbling in her own
puke, and knew she was right. Nathan ran to Lavinia's side, knelt a few
moments, mumbling frantic chants, and then pounded his way over to the slick
coralline-crusted altar.

He
ranted at Eve about his dying mistress, raging her vile tainted blood would be
the death of their beloved captain. He screamed at her; calling her murderess,
yelling how she was no virgin, and her blood had been poison.

Eve
smiled smugly. For the first time Nathan noticed how her smile was different
from other young ladies of refinement.

 She
assured him she'd been a virgin until he'd taken her moments ago. She thanked
him for ending that curse. Merely eighteen, she had no knowledge of men, save
her “father”. And that had been so very long ago she barely remembered. Had she
been truly just like the other young women in the suffragette march, she would
have been moldering in the Old Raven's Rest Burial Ground these past hundred
years. As it was, she seldom got out, and then mostly after dark. A hundred
years…and then some. A hundred years to learn her…
place
, and how to
handle her curse. A day walker, these last fifteen years, though the intense
noon day sun still troubled her.