It was the middle of the night. Cities slept across Trinan. The moon hung high in the sky. Blaine stood in her tower and stared out at the moonlight scenery. A chill wind blew through the open windows but she did not shiver. She turned from her window and looked toward the one that stood on the other side. Sitting on the edge was a bat. "So you came."
A sinister red glow flickered and the bat became a man. He was tall and beautiful, and his long dark hair was tied at his neck. His body, though perhaps not expressly powerful, was still trim and fit. A woman would look happily at him more than once . . . unless she saw his eyes.
Even Blaine did not like his eyes. They were narrowed, cruel, and dead. The smoky gray color should have been appealing, but there was nothing inside it. His eyes were as dead as his heart. The only heart that beat in the room belonged to Blaine.
The man bowed elegantly as his dark cloak flared around his body. He took Blaine's proffered hand and brought it to his lips. A bit of light glinted off his teeth as he smiled. "I always try to answer when a beautiful woman summons me. Are we having a drink together?"
"Save your wiles, Lord Beelzebub." She tugged her hand free. "My blood is of no use to you." She sat down on the side of her bed and crossed her legs. The silk of her robe slid over her skin enticingly.
He eyed her legs with a touch of wistfulness. He had always liked long legs on a woman. They ran so fast that the chase became that much sweeter. He knelt briefly and then stood. "Why have you summoned me, Lady Blaine? I would not think that any deliberately ask for my presence. How did you find me?"
"You have been in hiding," she said coolly, "but you leave a trail when you seek prey. I am offering you a deal. The Imperial Army will turn a blind eye to anything you choose to do if you will remove the thorn in our side. I want Tyrian Southerwind's head." Hate gleamed across her eyes. "And his relic. The rest of him is yours to deal with. I know you don't like men, but the blood of a Kaiten Star must surely interest you."
The blood of a Pure Relic user. He was, indeed, intrigued. "Is that my repayment? Ha. Lady Blaine, surely you can offer more. Why should I care if the Imperial Army pursues me or not? They have not caught me in five years, have they?"
"Let me put it this way: I care not for the Empire. It may rise, it may fall, it may become your own personal buffet of terror and blood." Her eyes narrowed. "I want only the Pure Relic. When I have that, you may do whatever you wish with this pitiful land. I have something more important to tend to."
The thought appealed. He was tired of hiding. His castle buried in the mountains would look so much lovelier in the middle of the country. His own personal valley. He would turn it to endless night. "You do have my attention, my lady. Is there anything else I should know?"
"Ewan Grizmar is a Destined Star."
His dead eyes lit with hate and anticipation alike. "My loose thread," he purred sibilantly. "How delightful. 'The last survivor of the Commune.'" He chuckled deeply, though the sound held no amusement. "The one person I was looking to destroy was the very one who survived. Lady Blaine, my services are yours. How should I draw out our enemy?"
Her teeth bared in her smile. "Do what you do best, my lord."
When his teeth flashed in his smile, the moonlight glinted off fangs. "I was hoping you would say that." He drew his cloak around himself as he turned and a flash of light transformed him once more to a bat. He flew out the open window, and the chill wind went with him.
Blaine shut the windows and went to bed. She had no doubt that she would sleep quite peacefully now. Things were looking up.
©Stacy J. Garrett. Do not reprint or redistribute without permission.
No comments:
Post a Comment