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bit he would break her neck. "You will give her to me. You will obey me.
Deceive me and I will take your na'halaef instead."
"Yes. Yes. She's yours. I swear it."
Mephistis savored the taste of terror rising from her as he ripped her shirt
open, fondling her breasts. He would teach her a lesson she would never
forget. Banewitches did not rise undead as the sa'necari did. He tore the
sword belt from her waist as if it were tissue paper, casting it far from her
reach. He bent over her, sinking his fangs deep into the large blue vein in
her breast barely an inch from where Bodramet had fed. Linden moaned. He
rolled her over on her back, straddling her.
Mephistis sensed the change when she began to mistake this for a rough nibble
game, a token act of dominance. She rubbed against him as he moved to another
vein when that one collapsed. Her guard dropped and then it was too late.
Mephistis lunged into her mind, took her completely to the smallest cells of
her brain, and made her his creature. He could have taken her mind at any
point, but he had not wanted to tear it to shreds getting there. He wanted her
as intact as possible. Otherwise she would have been of no use to him. She
would still have free will, but not when such conflicted with his desires. He
probed deeper and found that part of her mind and memories was warded by a
power that rivaled his own. That troubled him. A sa'necari had been here
before him and set wards. Which one? Why? His sire had led the occupation
force when the Waejontori held Danae for a few years. Could it have been him?
Or one of his lieutenants? Mephistis moved around them, pressing cautiously
for an opening he could not find. Then he simply gave it up. The strength it
would take to break them might destroy Linden.
Linden realized instantly what he had been done to her, but would never be
able to tell anyone. For the first time in her adult life she was frightened.
She tried to pull away, praying that he would let her go. He drank in her
fear.
"Foolish little knight," Mephistis said. "I'm not done with you yet." He
opened his pants, lifted himself out, and slit the crotch of her trousers with
his belt knife, then pushed into her. He could beat her to death and she would
simply lie down and let him do it. Mephistis did not intend to go that far,
nothing that would not mend but much that would. He felt her delicate tissues
tear as his thrusts turned savage. He cut away a piece of her shirt, balled it
up, and shoved it in her mouth. Then he began to strike her in the stomach and
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chest without missing a beat as his cock slid in and out of her. Blood coated
his member, ran down her thighs, and pooled beneath her buttocks. A feeding or
ten would heal much of the damage, but she would hurt a very long time. He
pulled his blade and began to systematically slice her.
* * * *
Everything was as he wanted it when Mephistis entered the south dining
chamber. The remains of last night's dinner had been removed. Hoon leaned
against the wall near the foot of the bleeding-table. The noble's heir lay
chained to the table, nude. She had a fine strong body that reminded him
vaguely of Aejys, but without the scars. She was barely eighteen, and when
Mephistis learned her identity, Linden's audacity startled him: The young
ha'taren was Meredouyn Dovane, only child and heir of Anaria Dovane, Regent of
Danae on behalf of Reynan Dovane, daughter of the exiled Tomyris the Lionhawk.
Mephistis could hardly believe his luck. An impressive catch  no wonder
Linden had tried to keep the young woman for herself.
"Only Reynan, herself, would have pleased me more," Mephistis remarked. "The
child must be about eleven by now."
Reynan's ma'aram had masterminded the conquest of most of Waejontor  but not
even Mephistis' best agents and most powerful arts had been able to uncover
where Anaria had hidden the child. Once he finished with Aejys Rowan,
Mephistis intended to find Reynan and kill her. The lineage of Danae would
soon end, just as Rowan would.
"I have never been able to find her," Linden answered. "You are setting this
up different than any rite of mortgiefan I have seen."
"Aejys Rowan is alive. I was interrupted in mid-rite, we are linked. Josiah
Abelard is abroad once more. He called her back from death. I intend to kill
her through the link, but I may have to fight Abelard to achieve it."
Linden stood at the farthest side of the chamber where the bed had been,
dressed to hide her bruises and wounds. She held a brazier already billowing
with fragrant smoke. Mephistis placed the empty hilt of the Blade of Nine
Souls between the victim's breasts. Then he disrobed. Hoon came forward,
drawing arcane symbols on Mephistis' body in black paint mixed with sacred
oils. He placed an obsidian blade in Mephistis' hand and withdrew to lean
against the wall again. Linden circled the prince and the bleeding-table
intoning, her stride faltering and limping.
Mephistis caressed Meredouyn's body with the blade, drawing a hot glance from
her: as instructed the woman was fully aware, Linden had neither drugged nor
spelled her. Mephistis contemplated the woman's body, focusing, remembering
each place where Margren had shoved the blade into Aejys, wanting to repeat it
as closely as he could.
The vampire moved to his side. "Whatever happens, you must complete the
mortgiefan. I will stand at your side, put my hand on your shoulder. Should we
encounter resistance, I will initiate rapport and draw on your strength to
fight them through the eye of the mirrors." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]