Nothing could quell Zabb’s hatred of the man who waited beyond that threshold. Twice Zabb had held his cousin as she slept her unquiet sleep, and read in her dreams the horrors that Blaise had visited upon her. Now the monster was going to pay.
Zabb stepped through the door.
Blaise turned, and the dark purple eyes widened briefly in surprise. He lunged for the archaic Earth weapon that rested on the desk. Zabb lashed out with his mentatic power – felt it strike, hold briefly, then slip, under the onslaught of Blaise’s own mental strength. It had been enough to get Zabb across the room, his hand gripping Blaise’s wrist. Killing Blaise would have been easy. Capturing him another matter. Blaise was battering not only at Zabb’s body, but at his mind. The Takisian had no strength for a counterattack; every bit of his mentatic power was given over to defense.
Blaise’s breath puffed hot in Zabb’s face. Their minds were knotted, everything that either one had ever done or known was shared. Tisianne lay between them. Memories of love and memories of rape coiled and shattered against each other.
Blaise’s lips skinned back in a grimacing smile. “Didn’t I teach her great for you?” he whispered.
Rage exploded in Zabb, and for an instant his concentration broke. Blaise was in his mind. Desperately Zabb threw up a death lock and forced the abomination back out. Blaise would have to kill him to pierce these shields, and the fight on the physical plane was going to end far earlier than their mentatic duel.
Grimly, the silence punctuated only by their harsh gasps, they fought for control of the gun.
An eerie silence had settled across the House.
Kelly and Tis had tried Blaise’s private quarters and found only the naked body of a murdered La’b sprawled in the blood-soaked bed. The long, curly red wig askew over her eyes left both of them a little queasy.
Their footsteps rang off the marble walls. Almost to the door, and they heard the boom of a gun being fired and wood splintering. A yell of pain. Tis grabbed the jamb for support and spun around the corner and through the door.
Blaise and Zabb were locked in a bizarre waltz of death, grappling between them a.44 Magnum. Blood was pouring from an ugly, ragged hole in Zabb’s thigh. If the round had struck bone, it would have shattered it. That he was still on his feet was a testament either to his reflexes or to Blaise’s lack of marksmanship.
Back and forth they staggered, the barrel of the gun angling first one direction, then the other. Tis was bringing up her rifle when, with a grunt of effort, Zabb bent Blaise’s wrist almost backward and squeezed. With an earsplitting explosion of sound, blood and brains exploded out the back of Blaise’s skull. In his forehead gaped a round black hole.
Kelly’s shrill screams ripped through air still echoing with the aftermath of the gun’s blast. Zabb dropped Blaise’s body. Tis fell on it in a bizarre parody of grief. Gripping the corpse by the shoulders, she shook it, beating the shattered head on the floor.
“No! You can’t die! You can’t die! You can’t die!” Kelly knelt at her side, gathered the weeping Takisian into his arms. His tears were hot against her neck. Tis stared up at Zabb with a Medusa’s face. “You betrayed me,” she said softly, but each word was edged with ground glass.
“I had no choice.”
There was a telepathic call like a clarion bell. Council summons. All their minds were filled with an offer to negotiate with the Ajayiz of House Vayawand.
Chapter Forty-Three
“Well, I don’t get to be Raiyis of House Vayawand,” Bat’tam said brightly.
“Did you want to be?” Tisianne asked, with very little interest in the answer.
Illyana was a warm presence in her arms, and Tis wanted to be alone with her child to see if a baby’s primal and uncomplicated love would be enough to restore her to emotional life.
It was that cold gray hour before dawn, and Tis was exhausted. Unfortunately she couldn’t sleep. Her mind would not let down, wouldn’t stop replaying the events of the night, analyzing, rearranging, indulging in agonizing “if onlys,” and “what ifs.”
Then there were the ships. Even to as feeble a telepath as Tisianne, the mentatic plane was a scene of telepathic cacophony, for the ships of the Ilkazam were singing the victory. The seniors had left the ship farm and were gathered like giant butterflies in the air above House Ilkazam. There was only one minor note in all this giddy celebration – Baby, reading the misery from the minds of Kelly and Tisianne, and singing their grief.
“No, not really,” Bat’tam continued. “But you must admit it was a wonderful ploy. Any other claimant was too busy fighting. By pressing a claim at such an absurd moment I gave the council a chance to free themselves of Blaise without actually surrendering to the Ilkazam. Of course, effectively we’ve become a cadet house to Ilkazam, but face was saved all around.”
“It was very well done of you.”
“I’m sorry about how things turned out for you -”
“Yes, me too.” Tis rose and walked to the door of her suite. Bat’tam got the hint.
“After you’ve rested, we’ll try to sort out your situation.”
“I’d say you’re the one with the larger problem. My mind is in one place, my body in another. Maybe a triad is the only solution.”
“I think we’d shock Kelly.”
The door closed behind him, and Tis sagged against the carved wood surface. Her guts were jumping, and laying Illyana gently in her crib, Tis bolted for the bathroom and vomited up her stomach’s meager contents. A knock brought her head up from the toilet. She rinsed and wiped her mouth, listened while the guard answered the door. It was Mark. With a sigh she walked back into the sitting room.
“You got a minute?” the human asked.
She made a strange sound: half laugh, part moan. “All the time in the world.” She laughed again. “I’m not going back to being me anytime soon.”
Concerned, he cupped the back of her head in one bony hand. “Are you cool?”
“Yes, absolutely. But you, I think, are not.”
Mark walked ponderously over to a sofa, slumped on the edge, his hands clasped between his knees. “Durg’s dead. He turned…” Trips tapped his chest. “For me. Wonder what that does to a Morakh?”
“Well, I’m sure his psychic pain was brief. He died quickly.” It came out far more acid than she’d intended.
Mark looked miserably up at her. “This whole thing is my fault. I abandoned Durg, and he hooked up with Blaise. Blaise would never have thought to come here if it hadn’t been for Durg. Now Blaise is dead, and Durg is dead, and you’re trapped, and -”
The pressure of her fingers digging deep into his shoulders drew a faint cry from Mark. “Don’t be stupid. I’m too tired to deal with stupid. I’ve spent almost fifty years wallowing in guilt. Didn’t accomplish a damn thing. I’m in this situation because I misread, misjudged, and mishandled Blaise. You had nothing to do with that. As for Durg… yes, you did abandon him, but not maliciously, not deliberately. If there was a sin, it was one of ignorance.” She released him, combed back her hair in a desperate gesture of anger and confusion. “I don’t know what I’m saying, if any of this makes any sense. I guess the point is, don’t waste time on guilt. You want my forgiveness? You’ve got it. You don’t need it, but you’ve got it.”
Mark stood, wrapped his arms around her. “I’m sorry. You didn’t need me laying my trip on you.”
“I love you, Mark, but for the Ideal’s sake go away.”
He kissed the top of her head and went. Tis summoned Gena and took a bath. For a long time she just floated in the hot, hot water, then paddled over and allowed the maid to soap her hair, and her body. The plump fingers were just unknotting the kink in her neck when there was another hectic rapping on her door.