Claimed & Seduced (18 page)

“I’ve sent the soldiers off in pairs to gather information,” Ellard said. “They’ll meet us at the castle. If you’re determined to go to the lower city, we should stick together. We won’t appear threatening if we have a woman with us.”

“No, it’s dangerous. Keira is hurt.”

“Jarlath, help me up. I’m made of stronger stuff. We should leave before we attract more scrutiny.”

Jarlath and Ellard glanced in the direction she indicated. A cloaked man stood in the square, his attention on them. When he noticed their interest, he reached into his red cloak.

Ellard pulled out his weapon. “You! Move along. No loitering outside the castle.”

When Jarlath trained his blaster on him too, the man hurried away and disappeared around the corner.

“He wasn’t there when I first passed through the barrier,” Ellard said. “Let’s go before he brings back friends.” He waited, his weapon at the ready, while Jarlath lifted Keira to her feet. “Question anyone we see and persuade the able-bodied men to assist in our fight.”

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Jarlath whispered. “I can take you back to the farm.”

“Not before I purchase the charms.” She took a step and staggered, pressing a hand to her head as if it ached.

Jarlath curled his arm around her waist to hold her upright. “You’re not well. I’ll take you home then return to help Ellard.”

“Enough with the lovers’ sweet nothings,” Ellard snapped. “We need to collect information. Organize the soldiers from the lower city base.”

Jarlath was surprised Ellard didn’t insist he stay at the castle. Maybe he’d decided to save his breath and battles for the important things. This was war and objectives changed.

“No more sweet nothings,” Jarlath murmured to Keira. “This is serious.”

A chortle emerged from her, and the small sound heartened him. His Keira was strong and courageous. A true warrior.

* * * * *

House of Cawdor, Planet Gramite

“H
ow is the attack progressing?” Razvan Cronan demanded of the six wizards who stood before a huge scrying bowl. All young, all ambitious, the magic men had volunteered for this job, despite knowledge of his uncertain temper and insistence on results.

Razvan didn’t tell them, but their progress pleased him, made him proud. This was innovative and the scope of his plan unique, a scheme he’d conceived two cycles ago and his father had rejected as impossible. A pity the old man wasn’t around to see his success.

“Most of the security force is trapped in the castle with the royal family,” a man wearing fake cat ears and whiskers said. He was in charge of the wizards’ wellbeing.

“Mareeka and Marjo have reported this also,” Razvan said, speaking of the women in his life—the other members of his triad—who currently acted as his team on the ground on Viros. “Excellent job.”

An unstoppable force and his secret weapon in the war against the House of the Cat.

Razvan studied the magic men. Their bare chests gleamed with sweat and strain showed in their faces. They’d trained for this attack, practiced for the last cycle, but he could see they’d need a break soon. He couldn’t afford to lose any of these men because they didn’t have replacements strong enough to help.

“Thank you, sir,” their spokesman said.

Razvan gave a curt nod and withdrew from the war room, closing the door on his magic men so they remained undisturbed.

“How goes the attack, Razvan? How goes the attack?” His mother, a tall, spare woman with a sharp blade of a nose and golden eyes stared at him in clear expectation of a report. She wore a black mourning suit—a thin tube of fabric that covered her from shoulders to just below her knees—in deference to her husband’s demise.

Razvan bit back his impatience but not fast enough.

“I helped you gained the position of leader,” she spat. “I helped speed your father on the way to the crow sanctuary. I helped. I helped.” Her eyes glowed with inner fervor while her mouth was a thin slash of determination. “The least you can do is to keep me appraised of our progress. Keep me appraised. Keep me appraised.”

Not quite true. Officially, his father had died from the fever that had killed many others on Gramite, a mystery illness, which had flared up during the last cycle around the same time as the increase of mossie bugs. The head scientist had tried to tell him he was at fault with his magical trials and the excess rain they’d caused. The rain, he’d said, had created stagnant ponds, which encouraged the breeding of the bugs. Razvan smiled. He’d soon put the scientist right.

“Razvan, I’m talking to you. Talking to you. Talking to you.”

Razvan bit back his irritation and answered so she’d go away. “The castle and most of the security force is sealed off. No one can enter or escape. The people in the city are frightened. They are rioting and I understand there has been looting. I intend to contact Mareeka and Marjo soon to make sure they are in position. The bombing will resume as soon as I give the word.”

“And his fledgling spawn? His spawn? His spawn?”

“I have located her once and will again.” The fledgling was proving more difficult to find. She’d been clever enough to keep her hearths devoid of fire, but he would find another way. She would be his again. Of course, she was no longer virgin, but he could use her as a plaything for as long as she held his interest. Once he’d rid himself of this compulsion to have her, he’d pass her on to his men. They’d appreciate the gift.

But first, he’d teach her who was boss. He’d teach her she couldn’t escape his might. He’d teach her the true meaning of fear.

“I’ll check in with my women.” Razvan halted when his mother’s hand shot out to grasp his upper arm. Her bony fingers pierced his skin—a sure sign of her agitation if she couldn’t control her crow from bleeding into an appearance. The woman was mad. Useful, but crazy. His gaze went from her hand curled around his forearm to her face. “Yes?”

“Don’t let that woman get between you and success, my son. Your father failed because of the mongrel bitch. I wouldn’t want you to make the same mistake with the mongrel bitch’s fledgling. Same mistake. Same mistake.”

Razvan fought to keep his irritation banked behind a bland smile. “I know what I’m doing, Mother. My planning has been meticulous and nothing will get in the way of my success.”

Becoming one with Mareeka and Marjo had made him stronger and confident. He would not fail.

They would not fail.

She scrutinized his face with a beady gaze, and he barely repressed his shudder of distaste. He didn’t trust his mother, not after the way she’d taken the opportunity to dispatch his fever-weakened father. He might not manage to prove her a murderess but he knew in his gut and that was enough to make him wary.

“Don’t make a mistake. You have the Virosians in a vulnerable state. Don’t ease up and take your boot from their throats. Boot on throat. Boot on throat.”

“Of course not, Mother. We need their resources and workers to man the mines we will seize.”

She gave a stiff nod and hopped from the room, the fabric of her black suit rustling with each bounce.

Razvan didn’t show a flicker of expression until she disappeared from sight.

“Mother isn’t sane,” Carrick, his younger brother, said from behind him.

“How long have you been there?” Razvan didn’t like to think his brother could sneak up on him without his knowledge. Sneaky and unpredictable, Carrick bore some of the same characteristics as their mother. Razvan didn’t trust him either, but he wasn’t stupid enough to upset him with hasty words.

“Long enough,” Carrick said. “Mother is retreating into her other self more and more. I haven’t seen her walk anywhere for ages. She hops.”

“I know,” Razvan said. “Do you have time to help me plan a bombing?”

“Bombing?” Carrick’s wide grin bore a trace of madness. “You’ve just said the magic word.”

* * * * *

“G
rata!
I didn’t think the damage would be this bad,” Ellard said. “The soldiers who reported in before the barrier went down spoke of small disturbances.”

“We have to stop the fighting,” Jarlath said.

“We need more soldiers,” Ellard said. “And Father isn’t about to release them, even if we could get them through the barrier. Keira blacked out after getting us plus the six soldiers through. No, stick to the plan and get to the lower base.”

“Start recruiting men and women to serve as we go through the city,” Keira said, seemingly recovered from her blackout. “Offer to pay them if they will help restore order.”

Ellard shook his head. “I don’t know about payment. Father—”

“The head of security isn’t here,” Keira said. “You can’t expect people to risk their lives for the few who live the high life because that is who you’re protecting. None of you care about the people who inhabit the lower city.”

“I will authorize wages for a civilian army,” Jarlath said.

The upper city streets were empty, and most of the shops had their windows and doors barred. Shouts drifted from farther down the hill and they saw more people on the streets. Some were fighting and others…

Jarlath watched in disbelief as a woman and a child smashed a window and seized the goods they could reach. The woman lifted the child and shoved him through the window. Once through, the child disappeared then reappeared to thrust stolen goods back to his parent.

“Who is that?” Keira asked.

Jarlath looked in the direction she pointed and frowned at the man. He wore a scarlet red cloak, the hood raised to screen his face. He stood motionless, his attention on a fixed point in the distance.

“There’s another man at the other end of the street,” Ellard said. “I should question them. They’re dressed the same manner as the man we saw when we left the castle.”

“There’s something odd about them. They’re standing like statues carved from red onyx. I think we should go,” Keira said. “I’d feel happier if we wore protection spells.”

“Which way?” Jarlath asked. “I’m not familiar with this part of the city.”

“You’re right. Best to get to my soldiers first. This way,” Ellard said. “The main steps will be quicker. Jarlath, you lead. I’ll watch our backs.”

“There are more men in red on this level,” Keira said a few mins later. “Weird. They’re all standing stock still.”

Ellard frowned. “Move it, Jarlath. I don’t like the feel of this. My gut is lurching.”

Jarlath hurried down the steps and paused on each level to scan the shop signs. “Lynx is right. The lack of technology down here is making us weak and vulnerable.”

If they modernized the city and welcomed innovation, then maybe they’d attract more merchants and traders and inventors instead of losing them to other planets. Something to ponder and plan for the future.

“There,” Keira said. “Over there. I think that’s the shop. The sign looks new.” She marched along the street, glancing swiftly at the men in red positioned on the street. She increased her speed, and Jarlath didn’t blame her. The men stood so still he wondered if they were alive, yet their appearance made the hairs at the back of his neck rise in foreboding.

“They smell wrong,” Ellard said.

Keira stopped at the door and pounded her fist on the wood.

Jarlath scented the air, his nostrils flaring. His feline barked out an unhappy sound. Ellard was right. A metallic aroma filled the air. A hint of crow. He thought of the crow tattoo on Keira’s cheek.

No, her scent was different.

Keira thumped on the door again and attempted to turn the handle.

“There is a number. I’ll com it,” Jarlath said.

“No, I hear footsteps,” Keira said. “Someone’s coming.”

A burst of thunder rippled through the air, and Jarlath frowned up at the sky. Earlier, when they left the castle, the day had been clear and fine with reasonable visibility. Now darkness shrouded the solar star and the scent of rain added to the wrongness of the atmosphere.

“I’ve never seen a storm like this,” Ellard said. “Look at the color of the sky. It’s scarlet in places.”

Rain began to fall, large drops full of ice. They sizzled on hitting the ground.

“I don’t like this. This weather smacks of magic,” Keira said with urgency. “We need shelter.”

The men in red didn’t move and their scarlet cloaks began to steam.

Keira banged her fists on the wooden door and shrieked, “Let us in. Please let us enter.”

The door flew open and Keira pushed past the tall, scrawny man standing in the doorway. She ignored his angry bellow to glance around at the shelves of bottles and jars. Jarlath stepped over the threshold and sneezed.

“I’m going to talk to one of those men in red,” Ellard said. “The one at the end of the street looks familiar. The name will come to me once I speak with him.”

“Wait until the rain ceases,” Keira said.

“I don’t have to take orders from you,” Ellard muttered and stomped away.

“She’s right,” Jarlath said. “I don’t like the way this feels.”

“Magic.” The skinny man attempted to slam the door and lock Ellard out.

“No, wait.” Jarlath yanked at the man’s arm. He finally forced his way past and sprinted after Ellard.

“No, Jarlath. Come back,” Keira shouted. “It—”

An explosion cut off her words.

Ellard flew through the air and hit the ground. Jarlath found himself sprawled on his back. Ears ringing, he picked himself up and scuttled toward his friend. The wind battered his body, tearing his hair and making his black cloak swirl as he tried to reach Ellard.

Ellard didn’t move.

Keira appeared beside him. Her mouth was moving but he couldn’t understand what she was saying. She grasped Ellard’s shoulder and glared at him, her lips moving again. Okay. She wanted him to drag Ellard to safety. Jarlath hoisted Ellard up and grunted at his dead weight.

A second explosion went off down the other end of the road, the blast knocking Jarlath down. His knees hit the cobblestones with a painful whack.

“Jarlath, we must get inside.” Keira spoke right next to his ear.

Her panic and determination gave Jarlath a mental push. His gut told him she knew more than she was letting on. Either she knew what was coming or her knowledge was enough to give her a healthy fear. Her terror stirred his feline, and he gritted his teeth and half-dragged, half-heaved Ellard through the open doorway.