Chad wanted to call after him, but it was too late.
He dimly heard Bai’s screamed exhortations over the buzzing in his ears.
And then they were moving forward, all of them.
Gunfire erupted from both sides.
Chad lifted his weapon, aimed quickly, and squeezed the trigger. The weapon chugged and the scent of blood was heavy in the air as Chad and the woman he loved rushed into the thick of battle.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
They were out on the long balcony overlooking Razor City as they heard the muffled thumps of the first explosions.
Dream frowned. “Something’s happening.”
The Master stood with his forearms balanced against the balcony railing. He looked just as he had the last time Dream had seen him, and she understood that what she was seeing was part illusion. He had a chameleonic ability to shift his appearance at will—it was one of the traits of his race—and he’d chosen to present himself the way she remembered him. He was handsome, with fine, chiseled features, and a muscular body with a deep tan. The same thick, broad shoulders that had so turned her on the first time. The same intense, passionate eyes. The strength, confidence, and poise he’d possessed in such abundance was still there too, perhaps even to a greater degree than before.
Because something serious was definitely happening somewhere in the house and he didn’t seem the least perturbed by it. Dream heard more explosions and a rapid, snapping sound she assumed was automatic gunfire.
Still looking at the red sky of the alien world beyond the balcony, he said, “Do you know what this place is, Dream? That world out there?”
She frowned again. “No, but—”
He stood erect and turned toward her, took her gently into his arms. She shuddered and slid with a sigh into the embrace. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “That red-sky world is where my kind originated. Our race thrived there for many thousands of years. Then some ravaging disease blighted it and the survivors took to the stars in silver ships.” He glanced over her shoulder at the barren landscape beyond Razor City. “It is still a dead world, all of my kind are long perished, but for some reason it calls to me. See that pyramid in the distance?”
Dream looked at it. “That’s new, isn’t it? Or relatively new. The slaves were working on it for a long time before I got here.”
The Master nodded. “New, yes. However, it is being built according to ancient specifications. When finished, it will be a precise replica of the pyramids my ancestors used as holy temples. I believe Evelyn intended to eventually use it in an attempt to resurrect my mortal form.”
Confusion creased Dream’s brow. “Evelyn?”
“You knew her as Ms. Wickman.”
Dream stiffened slightly. “Oh.”
Dream stiffened slightly. “Oh.”
“Of course, she had no way of knowing how close I was to achieving that goal on my own.” His smile this time had a rueful quality. “It isn’t easy to send information through the veil separating the mortal world and the various afterlife dimensions. Even those skilled in such things frequently get it wrong. Poor Giselle, for instance.”
Dream shivered and turned her head against his chest again. “What will happen to her?”
“Those sounds you’re hearing? The approach of invaders. They have come for her.” He lifted her head from his chest and stared into her eyes. “And they will have her.”
Dream felt a fresh sense of alarm. It had been so easy to allow herself to be hypnotized by the sound of his voice, to slip into a cocoon of comfort while wrapped in his arms. She pushed away from him a little and said, “Shouldn’t we be doing something? They’re coming here.” She nodded at the open French doors. “She’s in there, in that nasty chamber on the other side of that wall.”
He smiled and stroked her hair again. “We will do nothing.”
Her eyes gleamed with sudden fright. “Why?”
His smile remained unwavering. “We are in no danger. We could repel the invaders, if we so chose. You are strong enough to do it on your own, in fact. But we will not do this. They will take Giselle and de part this place, never to trouble us again. Then we will rebuild this kingdom, perhaps even expand our presence in the land of my ancestors. And we will reign as king and queen for a thousand years.”
Dream laughed. “A thousand years?”
“Yes. It is part of the bargain I made with the death gods.”
Dream stopped laughing. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
The Master shook his head. “I am not.”
Dream shivered. It was a strange thing to contemplate. Suicidal impulses had plagued so much of her younger years, and now she was looking at a potential lifetime stretching across centuries. The concept was initially jarring, but the more she thought about it—and the more she stared into her lover’s intense eyes—the more right it felt.
She smiled and touched his face. “Okay.”
He took one of her hands in his, kissed the back of it. “I love you, Dream.”
She tugged at the sash around her bathrobe and pulled open the flaps, exposing the front of her body.
Her breasts were pale in the alien sunlight. The sound of the gunfire was growing louder as she said, “Come fuck me.”
The Master smiled again.
And did as his Queen bade.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Marcy was in the bathroom with her sister. Ellen was perched on the toilet, with her jeans down around her ankles. Marcy knelt in front of her and coaxed her sister with words she almost certainly didn’t understand. Hygiene was a big problem for Ellen. It had been hard to get her to understand that she couldn’t just squat and shit on the floor any time she felt the urge to go. Nor had it been easy to instruct her on proper use of the toilet. You had to watch for signs indicating she was on the verge of needing to take a dump. She would get restless and start pacing about their room, panting and whimpering like a dog in need of going outside. In fact, the process had been very similar to potty-training an animal.
Ellen whimpered again. “Muhmuh…muh—”
Marcy sighed. “Come on Ellen. Squeeze. You can do it.”
“Muh…muh—”Tears of frustration welled in Ellen’s eyes. “Muh—”
“Oh, the hell with it.”
“Oh, the hell with it.”
Marcy stood and extended a hand to her sister, who accepted it with dumb gratitude, a drool-flecked smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Ellen stood, and Marcy helped her get her jeans tugged back up and snapped shut. They had just reentered the bedroom when Marcy heard the faint sound of something she needed a moment to recognize as heavy metal music.
She frowned.
It was the first time she’d heard recorded music of any sort since arriving at this place. Though the music was muffled, she had a sense that it was coming from somewhere outside the house. She was moving toward the bedroom door to investigate when the boom of the first explosion sent a hot spike of fear through her heart, freezing her hand on the doorknob. The sound was massive and the concussion seemed to rattle the whole house. It was followed immediately by more explosions, just as big and loud, which was followed by the stuttering sound of gunfire. Ellen screamed and threw herself against Marcy, jarring her hand away from the doorknob. Her hands clawed and scrabbled against Marcy’s clothes as she mewled inarticulately. Marcy shoved her away, sent her tumbling to the floor. Ellen landed on her ass and let out a pained squeal. The sound ripped at Marcy’s heart, but the panic engulfing her was too immense to allow any room for coddling her simpleton sister. She had to figure out something to do, and fast, before whatever was happening downstairs got any closer.