Part 14 (1/2)
”Cret!”
Like a fish out of water, she gasped, struggling to get enough air in her lungs. The quick breaths helped, until a tickle in her chest forced her to cough. And cough. Her body shook, whether from weakness or adrenaline, she didn't know.
Blood misted the snow like spray paint, a reminder of her mortality. A reminder of how far from home she'd been taken. And, a reminder that she didn't have much time. She closed her eyes against the truth. Didn't want to face it. In fact, she wanted to lie down and curl into a ball. Pretend none of this was happening. She'd about decided too when the crunch crunch of footsteps interrupted. Probably Dervinias. Come to help, or, more likely, gloat.
”For someone who has people bow before her or die, you seem to spend a lot of time on the ground.”
How'd Michael get here?
Venus tried to stand. Of course, if she looked at the situation from his point of view, she understood his sarcasm. The last time he'd seen her, she'd been on the floor. ”I-you're right.” She tried to laugh it off, but coughed again. ”It must be like opposite week or something.”
Embarra.s.sed and frustrated, she scooped a handful of snow over the blood. On shaking limbs, she went to stand, but fell back onto all fours.
”Wretched! Infuriating! Cold, stuff,” she said through chattering teeth.
”What's wrong with you?” Michael moved so that his booted feet were inches from her nose. Placing his hands under her arms, he helped her up.
”Now there's a loaded question.” She laughed as she pushed him away.
He didn't join in with her fake merriment, but grabbed a portion of his t-s.h.i.+rt, exposing leather-belted jeans, and a part of his hip bone and chiseled stomach.
She couldn't help but notice a small line of dark hair that began under his belly b.u.t.ton and disappeared into his pants. Flus.h.i.+ng, she looked away. He hesitated a moment before he turned her face back to him. Using the t-s.h.i.+rt like a cloth, he gently dabbed her lips.
The sun etched his outline, making his eye lashes glow gold. His eyes were so intent on her lips, they quivered. Venus fought against the ache in her belly at his nearness. The G.o.ds obviously picked the wrong kelarian for this job. ”I just ran the horse too hard. All of the exercise-”
”And your excuse for yesterday?”
”Crazy red-head. She kicked me. Ringing any bells?” She pursed her lips.
He dropped his s.h.i.+rt and ran a hand through his hair. ”I meant . . . forget it.”
”Fine.”
”Fine.”
Wobbly, like a colt on new legs, she started over to a table. ”Chev should be here in a few-” She slipped, sailing backward into his outstretched arms.
”You're a mess.” He wrapped his arms around her. Held her tight. For a second, she sank into him. Allowed herself to give in. Glazed pears. He smelled good enough to eat. To kiss . . . Her heart started beating faster.
What's wrong with me? Why does his nearness affect me so much?
”Let me go,” Venus said, hoa.r.s.ely. The words had come out with less harshness than she'd planned. To make up for the lack of severity, she turned and pushed his chest with her hands. She wanted him to fall back, show some weakness.
He remained upright and Venus fell against a table. He moved toward her, as though to help, but must've changed his mind.
”So tell me, your highness, how did you know my mother's name?” The egotistical anger was back. That was better than concern, or worry, or . . . any of his other stunning looks.
”I think Cheverly or Dervinias told me.” Holding onto the table, she moved around and sat on the cold, snow-covered bench.
”Michael,” Cheverly called, cheerfully as she and Zaren rode up. ”You made it.”
Zaren and Chev slid off their horses, tethered them and walked over to Venus and Michael.
”Hey Chev.” Michael waved slightly and then stuck his un-gloved hands in his pockets.
Venus scanned the area, unsure what she was searching for, but something felt off. The halfway point consisted of a hefty concrete slab surrounded on all sides by a two-railed wooden fence. Five picnic-styled tables were interspersed around a firepit. A fine layer of snow glazed the landscape like sparkling diamonds.
Venus peered up at the sky. It went on and on-a clear blue-without a cloud in sight. The smell of pine swirled on the wind. A horse whinnied. She looked in its direction and it wasn't something but someone she searched for. There were five horses and only four of them.
”Michael. Is that horse yours?” She pointed at a tall, gray with dark freckles and knew it had to be his. Which meant Dervinias was missing. ”Anyone see Der-Vinny?”
They turned in different directions to look for him. He wasn't anywhere to be found.
”Cheese, the guy's a nut. He probably rode further on. Or went back on a different trail. It wouldn't be the first time.” She gave an indifferent shrug. ”Who wants hot chocolate?”
31. Cult Of Personality.
Dervinias walked determinedly down Michael's street. When he reached the bus stop, he sat next to a nervous old woman. He gave her a smile. ”Lovely weather, isn't it?”
”Oh, my dear, it sure is.”
He turned away, done with niceties. He had a lot to think about. The Humieri Project hadn't been moving along as planned. Still, as a scientist, he continued his work-testing and reevaluating. Patience was the key in any scientific experiment. And he had time. An eternity.
His next live test would be to inject a female human with eggs fertilized by a combination of kelarian and human DNA. He'd already tried mating with human females. Though he didn't mind the physical experience, the copulation proved lethal. Several had died during the process. One had become pregnant; at least he'd thought so, until a paternity test proved the child belonged to another human.
Over the last several months he'd made some headway. He knew he was close. And when he succeeded, he'd be a G.o.d. The author of a new race. Creator over a species that respected the gift of immortality. Humieri's would be his masterpiece. Like an artist, he used humans as his canvas and the DNA of kelarians as his brushes.
Kelarians and their obedient wors.h.i.+p of Ith and Aetha disgusted him and his followers. The blinded kels were like bees in a hive-working, mating, existing without question.
Immortality wasn't to be given freely. Yet the unthinking kels received the ultimate endowment-and for what? Some were Discoverers, sure. Others were given the right to be Formytians. But immortality should only be awarded to leaders, those who'd proved themselves worthy of eternity.
Creating a new race would be the perfect solution, Earth and its similarities to Kelari, the perfect worldly candidate.
A kelarian/human hybrid-able to heal more quickly and live longer, as kels did, yet inhabited with the humanity the humans possessed. He'd chosen the girl-the vessel-the one who'd be the mother to his new race. Cheverly.
The theory would be tested on her.
And then there was Michael's mother. Whoa! She'd been a total surprise. He'd intended to kill her as a means of separating Venus and Michael. During the process, he'd discovered the woman had many, many secrets. Through her, he was able to see just how far reaching The Order's tentacles went. Images of the crusty old Thomas Jefferson and his interest in Native Americans . . . There'd also been something to do with an illegitimate child . . . But the more juicy tidbits were blocked away from him. It'd been frustrating that, even with torture, he couldn't break her. The skill had to be taught. He knew of one other kelvieri, before Zaren, who knew a human's mind could be read and probed.
He had a feeling Catherine knew more about his planet and kelarians than any human he'd ever met. In fact, Dervinias had a feeling she knew more about him than most.
Her death left him with more questions than answers. Two pieces of information he was able to extract: The man Michael knew as his father was also the leader of A.L.T. and, on top of that, he wasn't even his real father. Who his father was . . . he'd been unable to ascertain.
It seemed likely, though, that his hypothesis had already been tested and proven. What exactly was Michael?
He looked forward to finding out the truth.