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With
a harsh snort, Leda Melancowski eased her body over on the couch. That dammed
Carl. Run out on her and back to his old lady. Damn him.
Leda
shuddered, fearing Anna more than she feared even ‘Spider' Ryan. Ryan would
kill her some day, but Anna . . . Anna could make the years ahead a living
nightmare for someone of her class and quality.
Already
ravens haunted the small greenish cottage.
Life
is bitch enough.
Tired
and disgruntled she heaved her body over. How could he? Hell, Carl might only be
about twenty-five, but he couldn't get it up for squat. Not for her anymore.
He loved that she-wolf Anna more than he loved living. And Carl loved living. He
took the fast lane every chance he got.
Leda
sniggered. Now he could prove it. If he didn't return to her, him and that
wolf-bitch of a wife of his were both dead. And Benny would go on the Witch
Stone as meat for the dark-sun lords.
Maybe
she should take up where Benny's Grandfather Grey failed. Leda's blood
chilled. Too bad Anna did the dirty deed and sliced old man Grey's heart in
two on that dark, frightening night almost ten long years ago. Leda sniggered
and muttered a drowsy, “Not.” The
dark lord Owl made ceaseless demands she cut out Benny's heart on the
‘Stone. He was upping his promises, for whatever that was worth.
Maybe
she could sell Carl to the Project again, if she sold them Benny. Leda stretched
and yawned. Maybe she could invest the money this time, instead of blowing it.
It was rotten, having to go back to blowing. Only problem was, if Benny didn't
have his stepdad, Carl Ivanovitch, to protect, no telling what the punk might
do.
Carl
was as much a control on Benny as the electronic training collar the brat had
worn. All the directors had to do was jerk Carl's chain and Benny fell right
in line.
She
grumbled to herself and rolled over. Benny was worth his weight in fissionable
material, and maybe then some. Why did he have to be so dammed hardheaded about
a little thing like wearing a collar?
“Little
fag.”
Her
hand reached down and scratched a buttock. Leda shivered. Dammit, but Carl had
better get back here. She didn't have a clean dish in the house. At least he
was OK at cleaning up her place. When the mood hit him. More often than not
these days the bottle hit him first.
Leda
dozed off. A drool of spittle pooled under the fleshy, pampered face.
The
Warrior-Guardian eased off the massive Uohali/Macana Gold Sun that had to weigh
over a thousand pounds of silver and jet black iron. A worn blue denim jacket
strained across broad shoulders. Huge arms bulged and gleamed through ragged
holes where the sleeves of the jacket had been torn off. It was a gift from a
friend. Benny's dad, Ben the Second. And last, for a fact. Ain't no more
o' old man Greylov's line allowed to live.
Two
Sword picked up the motorcycle by the bars. A flash of sapphire lightening
cracked. Over his head the Guardian now held a fiery blue sword. The silver
chasing on the double blades and two-fisted haft swarmed and changed scenes.
It
warbled at him. He grinned and made a few practice swings at a snooping demon.
The obnoxious and malignant spirit hissed, fleeing without bothering to
unsheathe his sword.
Two
Swords unceremoniously shoved a-Heart-a'-Fire into the harness on his back and
moved through the rain-dampened forest.
He
sidled up to a wet, mossy black oak, bare feet making no sound.
“O:tsi:Yu,
Guardian Two Swords -”
“Shahdap.”
He
bit his tongue and froze.
The
Guardian snarled an apology and ducked his head. The golden mohawk flopped over
his eyes in the fastest bow he ever made since creation.
“Sorry,
Aga:Wya.”
The
God, Sun Wolf, Lord of Light, son of the Adodarse and the Tsi:Yu, chuckled,
whispering conspiratorially, “Bro aka:ki,
what gives?”
“They
got him, man.”
Two
Swords looked down at the lean, dark Aga:Wya from his nine-foot height and his
eyes burned a cherry red.
The
Aga:Wya nodded. He saw it all from beyond the Veil of the Sun. He smiled to
himself and waited to see what Two Swords was up to. Two Swords in action was
awesome. And so was Mom-Eagle when she caught him out of character. Ani:Aka:ki,
the Warrior-Guardians of the Sun, were supposed to be scholarly and prayerful.
Technically. Two Swords at times was a little farther south than Ma allowed as a
rule. Still, the Warrior-Guardians were in unending combat down on this side of
the Veil of the Sun, trying to keep humanity and every living thing safe from
the destructive forces of the dark lords. Allowances were made. But from time to
time the big guy did stretch things . . . just a little.
He
faded out and the warrior breathed a sigh of relief. Bad enough to have to look
over his shoulder all the time to make certain the Eagle-Woman wasn't around
when he needed to get nasty, but Wolf, too? Wolf was a great bud, but with folks
like his he had to walk the straight and narrow all o' the time.
Several
tens of deer stood frozen, standing shock still, hoping that the car and
motorcycle would leave them to finish stealing from Stiller's sweet tasting
clover meadow.
“Hello,
Benny.”
Trembling
with the shame of fear and on the verge of hate, Benny stared at the pretty
blond. Relief billowed in her heart. She brightened and a real smile glowed on
her well-tanned face. He appeared to be in satisfactory condition, but Cindy
wouldn't be convinced until he had been examined by a battery of specialists,
both those of the Project and her own private group.
“You
took me quite a chase, young man,” she said, her voice firm to show she was
angry, her eyes smiling so he would know she meant to forgive him. Gently, she
ask, “Are you ready to go home now?” Cindy VanTur stroked the shaggy, dark
brown hair of her pet, Benny Wya Grey.
“Dear?
If only you would come to realize how very important you are to . . . to us
all.” He really was exquisite, quite passionate. He was the best stallion in
the Project. All his were boys . . . even the one she had birthed. If they were
like their sire, they were born to serve. Sig heil Darwin. It was about time the
UN admitted his was true science, and not wishful thinking.
Only
time would tell if they, too, held Benny's flawless powers. And, Cindy hoped,
his flawless dark beauty. She snapped her fingers.
“Come,
Benny.”
Benny
crawled from the saddle of the Night Sun. He winced at the pain, but dared not
move any slower. Ghostly flames would grow, expanding until there was an inferno
raging within. The conditioning did not allow him to rebel.
Cindy
led him by the hand, relishing the firm bone and muscle. She smiled faintly.
Perhaps she should tell him he was a father. It might be enough to make him
pliable. They stepped back to the rear of the Spider's limousine. Benny's
eyes widened at the sight of the chauffeur.
“Bro-Henri?”
Benny's voice cracked. “Dude-”
Benny
choked and blanched in fear for the big ex-line backer. Henri was like a father
to him. The huge man must have been tracked down, caught and enslaved by the
Project again. So much for the Witness Protection Act. Bitter and hate-filled,
Benny sagged against the sharp black of the Duesenburg.
Teeth
showing in a fierce scowl, Henri shook his head. “You chill, bro-Wolf.” He
pulled a set of plasti-steel shackles from the trunk. “All will be cool. God
is here. He:wa, ayotli.” Listen to
the Wolf, my son.
Benny
snorted. He threw a cool glance at the woman. Just barely, he could make out old
man Ryan's leering face in the rain spotted window next to Cindy's bowed
head. Not in prayer. He knew that much about her. Counting out the old man's
reward, no doubt.
Benny
shouted, “Hey, you old goat.” Ryan glanced up and Benny snarled a grin.
“lowering yourself to accept paper instead of gold coin, now? Getting:
desperate, ain't you?” The old man offered an innocent smile and the finger.
Benny muttered a cold laugh. “Like, how are the nightmares coming? Like, still
seeing Mom riding your soul to Hell?”
Ryan's
head shot up, his eyes wide. A white tongue moistened gray lips. He rubbed his
withered chest and his gaze slid back to what Cindy was saying.
“How'd
they get you, Pappy Henri?” Benny's voice filled with misery. It had to be
his fault they nabbed ol' Henri. They wanted him to take Carl's place as
Benny's restraint.
Carl
had been one hell of a point-man in the war with the drug lords in America del
Sud, but he was terrified spitless of the Project and their nasty way of
punishing unnecessary slaves for infractions of the rules. They castrated them.
Man had no dig-nit-tee.
Benny
didn't much care for that one himself. He nearly lost the family jewels when
one of the administrators, the Arab they called him, tried to ruin Benny in a
fit of rage.
Maybe
they did that to Henri -
Benny
gave the big man a sorrowful look. His eyes went wild with fear and guilt.
As
if reading the fifteen year old's mind, Henri cuffed him sharply on the side of
the head.
“I'm
fine, you little jerk. Got all o' my all's. Got it?” Golden brown eyes
snarled at Benny and Benny gulped in relief. Wiping imaginary sweat from his
brow, he and gave Henri a broad grin.
A
massive Uohali-Gold Sun rider roared down on them from the forest. The deer
leaped straight in the air, bleated in terror at the horror. The animals were
maddened into a blind panic.
They
charged the limousine, crashing into it, leaping over it. They reared, knife
sharp forehoofs slashed at the men.
Henri
gaped in disbelief. Deer? With tiny injun elves riding them? He chanced one last
look at the . . . elves? Lord have
mercy. Why, God, was he foolish enough to drop acid in high school? Henri took
Benny by the arm and darted away into the forest.
Benny
plunged in an attempt to obey the strict domination of the control. The big man
held Benny in an easy, unshakable grip.
Benny
shuddered, vomit rose in his throat. “Can't . . . can't.” He choked on
rising vomit. A fist jerked up at Henri's face.
“Please,
Pappy. It h-hurts.”
“Boy,”
Henri snapped. He gave Benny a hard shake. Henri groaned, shook his head, and
lost the argument he was having with himself. He popped his fist in Benny's
face.
Stunned,
the pains receded from Benny's scorched nerves. Henri swung him up and over
one shoulder. The hefty ex-full back darted with surprising grace through the
woods, nimbly dodging fallen logs and hurdling boulders.
His
neck tingled.
Henri
staggered, clutching at the near invisible collar around his throat. His eyes
bulged, protruding from a face gone gray and slack. Dropping to his knees, Henri
carefully lay the boy on a mass of sodden leaves before turning to answer the
summons from the woman.
He
fell against a rough shag-bark hickory. The loose gray bark shattered under his
groping hands.
The
burning call faded, dying. It was only momentary reprieve. He raised his head,
say in a straining voice, “I love you, boy. So do Carl and your mama. He has
to go back to Leda, Benny, for your sake. You do right by your mama. Anna,
she's holy . . . and so too shall you be some day, ayotli.”
“Huh.”
The
chauffeur looked up and his eyes widened.
Shriveled
and walnut dark, a small man stood on a jutting chunk of red-rock. His arms
crossed, condensation dripping off the brush around him. The tsi:ge:O
was ancient, his face withered with age, impassive, seamed and fragile. The
black eyes were almond-shaped and brittle with anger. He turned, fingers in
mouth, and uttered two shrill blasts.
Others
slipped through the trees on silent feet. The Little People of the Adohi:yi,
the forest, were short, no taller than Henri's arm. The knifes they held were
less than a finger-length, but sharp and deadly. A raccoon tumbled from the
hollow tree and yawned sleepily. The whisky brown of his eyes brightened at the
sight of the ani:tsi:ge:O. He walked
down the side of the old oak to join them.
The
Old-One grinned at the sight of his good friend. Hands moving with a slow grace,
he signed, Welcome, masked raider. He
turned to gaze at what lay before them.
“Leave
him to us. We will see the child remains safe.”
Henri
scowled and shook his head. “Ain't leaving no kid of mine in the charge of
no sawed-off stump.”
The
warriors, both men and women, hitched up their loincloths and prepared to
attack.
The
Old-One's grin hardened, his teeth sharp and white. Wisdom and compassion
brought on by ages of living shone in his ancient and bird-bright eyes.
“This
child is ours, also, Little-King grandson. You go now. We watch our child. He is
the Grey-Wolf of our Forest. He will lead us all to freedom, my friend.”
He
squatted on his heels next to Benny, and patted one slack cheek.
“We
love him, too.”
Henri
nodded. He staggered up, staring at the little man, and fell over a tree stump.
Thin
giggles came from all around Henri. Scowling at the stump, he got up, dusted
himself off and stumbled away.
“Where
is he?”
Henri
dared a brief look into the rage pale blue of the woman's eyes. She was
transformed from angel to demon. The eyes of a cobra. He dragged his gaze away,
staring in near fright at the ground.
“I
. . . I chases him, yas m'. Sho I done it. He too quick-like, ma'am.”
Cindy
made a noise of disgust and threw herself back in the car.
Old
man Ryan glanced at her, then at the awkward, shifting Henri. Henri could talk
down to a professor of English, if he so wished . . . .
With
a sigh of regret, Ryan looked at all that lovely money the VanTur woman had with
her. Ah, well. Life was an adventure, and one lived it to the fullest. Still, if
he ever found the chauffeur to be lying, he would deal far more severely with
him than had the delightfully formed Cindy.
Henri
shoved his bulk into the driver's seat. He surveyed the damage with a woeful
eye. A gaping hole let damp chill air in through the roof where some
sheep-brained, klutz hoofed doe had leaped on the car and smashed out the rag
top. He glared at his partner and Guardian. The angel had the audacity to scowl
back and shrug.
“What
‘re you lookin' at?”
Henri
gave him a hot, annoyed glare.
“Man
. . . Thought you were supposed to watch out for me.”
“Huh?
I do, you jerk. You, not this pile a junk. The kid OK?”
Henri let the ire fall and he grinned.
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