Tis stared down at that little head, the soft curve of Illyana’s cheek, listened to the complacent sucking noises, and an almost frighteningly powerful emotion shook her. There was nothing she had loved as she loved this child.
Shaking back her hair, she looked desperately up at Trips. “Mark, I don’t think I can do it. I can’t give her up. I have to be with her now.”
“Hey, that’s cool, Doc. We can just split with Jay and Hastet.”
“Oh, that’s great,” Jay exploded. “All of us squatting on that space station trying to thumb a ride home. I don’t think your cousin Zabb’s going to offer one after we fucked him over.”
“Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!”
The attack from Mark was so unexpected that it had the desired result. Ackroyd subsided.
But the cock fight had given Tisianne time to think. If she chucked it all, fled with Illyana, she could forget about ever recovering her body.
Maybe my love for you is tainted, selfish. But I must be myself again. Can you understand and forgive me?
Illyana, replete, sighed and opened her aquamarine eyes. And sent a burst of love and acceptance to her mother. Setting her jaw, Tis thrust the baby into Hastet’s arms. Dashed away tears with the backs of her hands, and throwing back her hair ordered, “Do it! Just do it before my resolve fails!”
And she was back in her bed in the women’s quarters. Roxalana shot out of a chair. A soft pop and Mark appeared.
“Tis, are you…” Roxalana began. Then she saw her brother/sister’s face. Gathering Tisianne in her arms, Roxalana rocked and soothed the distraught girl. “My dearest, dearest one. It will be all right.”
“I may never see her again!”
Roxalana held Tis at arm’s length. “At least she’s alive.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
It was a hell of a place to hold a wedding, with generations of dead Vayawand peering down from their glass condo tombs at the proceedings. They were all arranged as if for Victorian portraits – seated in chairs against attractive backdrops, but with one outstanding difference. They were all buck naked. Kelly would almost have preferred skeletons in rotting finery. It would have been preferable to this macabre audience of the stuffed and mounted dead.
At least the living attendees got to stay dressed. Kelly really couldn’t have gotten through the ceremony if he’d had to strip down. What kind of people hold a wedding in a catacomb? Kelly wondered. And what kind of people have the bride and groom spend the night together before the ceremony? He guessed it was designed to be a last chance for the prospective bridegroom to sample the wares and make sure he wasn’t buying a pig in a poke. Well, he’d viewed, he hadn’t sampled, and if he had his way, he was never going to sample.
Mon’aella sek Vanbrian sek Ana caught his thought and gave him her Lady Dracula smile. She’d already warned him that Takisians had drugs for everything. They could put starch in a wilting penis, and neither she nor Blaise would hesitate to mind-control Kelly and force him to perform. Kelly couldn’t figure it. Mon’aella was L’gura’s daughter, but she didn’t seem to give a shit that Blaise had killed her father. When Kelly had alluded to this, Mon’aella had merely shrugged and opined as how her father had lasted longer than most Raiyises.
The three members of the Ajayiz of House Vayawand approached the happy couple. Perhaps by virtue of the Vayawands’ long stint on the top of the Takisian political heap, they weren’t all old biddies. There were two old coots and a biddy. The old woman took Mon’aella’s hand and led her off to the left. The two ancient men each took an arm and propelled Kelly off to the right.
He was grateful for the support. He’d drunk most of the night, and he was now enduring the purgatory of a hellacious hangover. It took a long time to circle the room because they stopped before each glass cage and presented the couple to the ancestors.
Kelly hoped they liked what they saw. Blaise had decided to dude Kelly up in the Vayawand style, and the skin of his cheeks was still raw and puffy where green and amber jewels had been inset. Personally he thought he looked like a chipmunk on the morning after.
There was a moment of silence while everyone observed the form of waiting to see if any ancestor had any strenuous objections to the marriage. Kelly wondered if it would be really bad form for him to object. A glance over to Blaise, an arm around each of his wives, made Kelly release that lovely fantasy. His shattered arm and ribs had just healed. He didn’t need another “chastisement” from Blaise.
Kelly and Mon’aella were led to Blaise. They knelt, and he laid Kelly’s left hand on the top of her bowed head. Mon’aella touched her forehead to the stone floor, signifying her submission to her husband. Kelly knew that was a laugh. Eight hours in Mon’aella’s company had given him a pretty good idea of her disposition.
Blaise raised them both to their feet and kissed them. There was applause from the several hundred witnesses, and even the holocam crew. Blaise dug Kelly in the ribs with an elbow.
“Fill her belly quick, Kelly, my little man.” Several bottles of wine tried to climb back up Kelly’s throat. “Don’t worry Kel. You need any pointers, I’ll provide them. I’m told I’m very good.” He winked at his wives.
Now Kelly really wanted to puke. Yeah, you’re a real champion at rape. Several people in the crowd swiveled nervously to look at him. So strong had been the emotion, it had punched right through their shields. Yeah, be uncomfortable, you fucking hypocrites. You’re supposed to be so fucking shocked by sexual violence, but Blaise is conquering the planet for you, so you can wink at an inconvenient little rape along the way. Psychopathic rapist. Sociopathic rapist. Crazy motherfucker!
The wedding party wove its way through the geometric maze of the catacombs. They had just reached the wide stone staircase when Kelly became aware of a nobleman easing forward like a racehorse nosing through the pack at the finish line.
The surface thoughts bubbling off the man were those of hunger, stiff legs from standing in the cold so long, a need to pee. But… Kelly kept his eyes on that elegant figure closing behind Blaise.
With a shout Kelly threw himself on the man’s back. The sudden assault knocked him off his feet, and he went down. The tip of a knife scraped across the floor. Kelly wanted to vomit. It had been extruded from the man’s wrist. Wriggling like a snake, the assassin shifted positions. Kelly was now beneath him. The whole scene was ratcheting past like a broken movie film. The knife sliding another inch out of the arm, the point descending. Kelly snatched desperately for the hand and caught it, then immediately felt his fingers slipping in the blood that coated the man’s wrist.
He closed his eyes, and then the weight was suddenly plucked off his chest. Kelly risked a look. Durg was holding the now-limp body of the assassin. The other members of the wedding party were all bristling with drawn weapons. Sekal holstered his pistol and snapped his fingers. Durg dropped the man and kicked him toward Sekal.
“Diverous, help me examine him.”
Diverous joined Sekal, and they knelt by the unconscious man. Kelly rolled over and vomited up stale wine. Mon’aella grabbed him beneath the armpits and hauled him to his feet. For the first time Kelly risked a glance at Blaise.
The young man had that look. Tendons in the neck stretched tight, face gone white, the pupils of the dark eyes gone wide. Entire body shaking with suppressed fury. It had sent jumpers scuttling for cover out on the Rox, for when the storm did break, people got hurt. Kelly knew, he remembered that day on the balloon. This time it wasn’t turned on Kelly.
Breathing in sharp pants, Blaise forced out, “Who?”
“Alaa,” Sekal answered.
“I thought you said nobody could get an assassin past your security!” This was screamed into Durg’s face.