Part 15 (1/2)
Blood scent filled his nose and made him lick his lips. ”No,” Carlos whispered.
The throne whispered back, its call like a siren's. ”Come, and know all.” Multiple voices wafted out to him, offering the blood scent as a lure. The slow ooze that had pooled on the floor instantly rippled across the marble to Carlos's feet, covering his Timberlands, circling his ankles. Blood soaked into the hem of his jeans, climbed up his legs, lapped at his thighs, stroked his groin, then wet his T-s.h.i.+rt to travel up his neck and stroke the place along his jugular until it burned like a lover had caressed him there.
Carlos weaved and caught himself against the edge of the table. The scent was intoxicating, but didn't make him nearly as heady as the hint of power the throne begged to share. He'd always secretly wondered what gave the Chairman such absolute reign over the other councilmen. If each of their thrones held the wisdom and collective knowledge of their lines on a given continent, then what the h.e.l.l did the Chairman's throne hold?
The blood that teased his throat spread under his nose and across his face in delicate tendrils, licking at his nostrils. Carlos held his breath for a moment, fighting the urge to inhale deeply as he staggered away from the table and kept his lips sealed firmly shut against b.l.o.o.d.y invasion. He shook his head no as he turned to stare at the throne. No... he was out. The book wasn't there.
Standing there, soaked with blood, tears forming in his eyes, his body began to shudder with feed desire. He hadn't sipped in any air, and was suffocating. He angrily wiped the blood away from his mouth, took in a huge gulp of air, and closed his mouth quickly. But the taste in the scent lingered on his tongue... made him close his eyes, slowly part his lips, and a tiny tendril entered his parched mouth where air was allowed to seep in.
Flavors and colors from all the blood consumed from generations of vampires coated his tongue, opened his mouth wider, until the blood ran over his face like a river, pooling in his opened jaw, lowering fangs, and he swallowed.
The throne pulled him blindly as a deep, sensual moan came up from Carlos's abdomen. Blood washed his face; it was impossible to see. The rush of it was so intense that it deafened him, filling his ears, invading every orifice, until he sank against the crimson velvet panting, swallowing, shuddering, crying, laughing, his palms welded to the hand rests.
His body arched as a black electric volt ran through him. It s.n.a.t.c.hed open his third eye, bludgeoning his senses, burning out his cerebral cortex with so much information transmitting so quickly that he sat there like a vegetable, twitching and jerking in the horrible seat. His spine groaned, writhed to the surface beneath his skin, and then snapped, tearing away from tissue anchors and cartilage, making him scream as vertebra became one with the high-back marble throne for a moment, and then reentered his body, regenerating with new circuitry and bits of black matter.
Carlos slumped forward, panting, sweat pouring down his frame, his clothes burning away while blue-black flames scorched his skin, but he was unable to move. Then the surface of his skin became suddenly cool. A new torrent of blood filled his mouth, and he greedily gulped it, regenerating more as he did so.
Pain abated. The room again went still. Strength slowly crept into his naked limbs. Fear fled his heart. Knowledge from every throne in the room had a new lord. A sly smiled graced his face. Information poured into his mind in streaming, endless still frames... then with agonizing pleasure. Every carnal act that had ever been committed on the planet sent shock waves of ecstasy through him. Depraved or otherwise, it didn't matter. He could feel the impact of it all, every touch, every shudder, every moan, every gasp, every whimper-it all collided and fused into one sensation. He came so hard his heart stopped. His pulse was measured in elongated wails each time his body jerked and emitted thick, black emulsion from his member that wriggled in a slimy wash of tiny black tadpoles over his stomach, his lap, and his thighs.
Carlos's fingers gripped the hand rests; his nails grew, carving into the marble with hooked talons. His eyes were sealed shut, but as he opened them, a black gleaming ray covered the floor where his line of vision went, scorching new sections of marble away.
Battle-bulked to proportions he'd never dreamed possible, Carlos stood abruptly. Dark e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.e slid from his body, splatting to the floor in thick, wriggling plops from his thighs. He stared at it dispa.s.sionately as his legs turned into granite. A scaly, spaded tail swished a razor-bladed tip at what was moving at his feet, making the knots on his spine feel tender as he flexed his spine.
Then his toes welded together into gleaming, black, cloven hooves. Interesting. He chuckled, his voice booming like thunder and sending small rocks to the floor from the abraded walls. New, leathery wings unfolded from his shoulder blades and cast a dark shadow from their broad span. He spun to face the throne that had consumed him, fury at the treacherous invasion closing his talons into a fist.
He hurled a punch that exploded against the marble and decimated the throne to bits of stone once more. Breathing hard, he could feel sudden heat flare from his nostrils. He covered his nose with his hand, and it came away with blue flames. ”Well... I'll just be d.a.m.ned.”
Yonnie touched down and stared at Tara in the moonlight. ”Something major just happened.”
She nodded, glancing off into the distance. ”I know.”
”We've gotta find our boy before the others do,” Yonnie said, worried. ”f.u.c.k all that bulls.h.i.+t with Rider. I ain't even thinking about that right now. We need to get back to the group and let 'em know something big is going down.”
Tara nodded and disappeared.
CHAPTER TEN
”He should have been trailing blood, from the looks of this accident,” Damali said, her keen eyes to the ground as their Hummer b.u.mped over the rough, off-road terrain.
”Not picking up anything,” Rider said, hanging his head out the window like a hunting dog.
”Hold up, y'all,” Mike said. ”Tara's voice.”
Shabazz brought the Hummer to a stop. ”Be cool, man,” he said toward Rider. ”She's not alone, dig?”
”Yeah, peace, whatever,” Rider said, and sat back in the Hummer.
Damali jumped out and Yonnie and Tara materialized. ”What's the word?” Damali said, her gaze going from Yonnie to Tara and back.
”No sign of him,” Tara said nervously, ”but Yonnie picked up a significant power surge.”
”Subterranean,” Yonnie said, glaring over Damali's shoulder toward Rider. ”Ain't felt that since the Chairman went topside.”
”What does it mean?” Damali clutched her baby Isis blade tighter.
The rest of the team piled out of the Hummer.
”Everything all right, D?” Shabazz said, looking at Yonnie hard.
Rider c.o.c.ked back the safety on his weapon. ”Any problem, li'l sis?”
”Everybody be cool,” Big Mike said. ”What happened underground, man?”
Yonnie shook his head, but kept a lethal glare on Rider. ”That's just the thing. I don't know and don't have an underground pa.s.s no more to go check it out.”
”Where is my f.u.c.king book!” Carlos bellowed, making the table shudder as his fist tore away a section of it.
The crest rolled back, opened again to the vacant s.p.a.ce in its vault, and began to smolder as Carlos's glare remained on the emptiness.
”I know it's not here!” he shouted. ”Tell me!”
Within seconds white mist began to form within the empty s.p.a.ce, and Carlos blew on it, sending plumes of cloudlike smoke away from the opening so he could see the bottom of the vault. But instead of gleaming black marble, blue, snow-covered mountains appeared in a wavering hologram-like form. He stared at the illusion, his eyes narrowing as he received sensations, judged distance, and homed in on a location. The Himalayas. He nodded and waved his hand over the opening, and it sealed.
The crest looked at him and bowed its head, s.h.i.+vering.
”Very good,” Carlos muttered. ”Very, very good.”
”Transport!” he bellowed, and wrapped his wings around his naked body.
The doors to the chamber quickly opened, and several hooded messengers rushed through, b.u.mping into each other, stumbling, and falling prostrate on the marble before him.
”Your Excellency,” the one closest to his feet said in a s.h.i.+vering croak. ”We are humbly at your service.”
As his temper receded, Carlos's form began to slowly normalize.
”Mr. Chairman,” another said, and then looked up, screamed, and covered his head as a black bolt of energy snuffed him from the floor, leaving ash in the ent.i.ty's wake.
”Please, we beg you, Your Excellency, have pity on us. Do not take out his foolish mistake on the rest of us, we know who you are,” the lead messenger groveled. ”He was new, insane; please accept our apology on his behalf for t.i.tling you beneath your esteemed Level-Seven rank.”
Carlos folded his arms, not sure how to respond. He thought he'd acquired the Chairman's t.i.tle... but clearly that was not the case. He used the end of his spaded tail as a toothpick, cleaning a twelve-inch fang, thinking, then clothed himself as a distraction. The black designer suit and custom-tailored s.h.i.+rt felt good as they slid into place, and all evidence of his brief tryst with the throne did as well. He retracted his wings and tail, then walked around the messengers cowering on the floor, the sound of his black, alligator-skin slip-ons making soft taps against the polished stone. He smiled. Yeah, much more genteel than the clatter of hooves. A brother always had to be smooth.”I want to check out the response on all the levels as I go up,” Carlos said evenly. ”Need to be sure respect is in the house across the board.”
”Yes, sir,” the lead ent.i.ty whispered. ”We a.s.sure you it is, though, sir.”
”Good.”
The messengers hadn't lied. When Carlos's funnel cloud came to a swirling rest at the edge of the were-demon realms of Level Five, all howling ceased. Heads lowered, bodies shuddered, and he stared at an old werewolf senator that came out of hiding, his tail between his legs in dog-pack submission. A were-jaguar senator crept forward from the big cat clan and crouched low, holding his breath.