Jordan gasped and took an unconscious step backward. She waved the knife again. “Stay back!”
Angela rose from her chair, stretching to her full height, which was just an inch or so shy of six feet. She cut a very impressive figure, with long, lean legs, a flat, concave stomach, and toned and gleaming muscles. She was the sort of woman people had in mind when they used the term “Amazonian.” She stood still for a moment, smiling softly and holding Jordan’s gaze, intimidating the smaller woman with her physicality. Then she began to approach Jordan, slowly, with a slight sway to her hips.
Jordan was unable to suppress a whimper. The hand holding the knife shook visibly. She was sure it would tumble to the floor any moment. “Stop.” Her voice was a hoarse, desperate whisper. “Stay right there.”
Angela just kept coming.
“I’m about to take that knife away from you, little girl.” There was something hungry in her expression. Something eager. “And I’m gonna put it in a real uncomfortable place.”
Jordan’s body was close to betraying her. Her knees were shaking and the world around her had become soft-focus. The floor felt slippery beneath her, almost insubstantial, as if it could swallow her like quicksand. She felt unspeakably weak, like a failing wisp of a thing, barely alive.
Angela said, “Why don’t you save us both some trouble? You know you won’t be able to do anything to me. Don’t embarrass yourself. Hell, you’re almost down for the count already.” She was within a few feet of Jordan now. She held out her hand. “Just hand it over.”
Jordan’s grip tightened on the knife. She bit her lip hard, and some of her strength and focus came back. Just enough, as it turned out. Animal instinct drove what happened next-she slashed at the extended hand, and the sharp blade cut a deep trail across Angela’s open palm. Angela shrieked as blood gushed out of the wound.
Bridget said, “Shit.”
Jordan pressed her new advantage, moving in to slash at Angela again. The blade opened a deep cut just below the woman’s collarbone. She stumbled backward, blood pouring over her breasts. Her eyes were wide with pain and fear. A part of Jordan thrilled at the sight of it, a savage, primal piece of her psyche she had never been in touch with before. It scared her, but she also knew she needed to embrace it to have any hope of getting out of this place alive.
Angela was holding her hands up for protection.
A torrent of words spilled through her trembling lips, panic-driven cries for mercy.
Jordan loved it.
Reveled in it.
The big, bad bitch was begging.
Jordan slashed her with the knife again, a strike that went deep into the meaty part of a forearm. She had to dig the blade out. Angela screamed some more and staggered backward. Then there was a loud squeal, the source of which wasn’t immediately apparent to Jordan. Then Angela tumbled over something and landed hard on the linoleum. The squeal came again, and Jordan saw that Angela had tripped over the beach ball creature. The thing that had been described to her as one of Lamia’s “minions” opened its wide mouth and displayed rows of sharp, jagged teeth.
Then it took a chunk out of Angela’s left calf.
Angela spasmed on the floor, kicking her leg in a desperate attempt to dislodge the creature, which again chomped down on her leg.
Bridget shot up out of her chair. “Stop!”
Angela tried to rise, but Jordan kicked her in the stomach. Driven again by that savage, unforgiving part of her psyche, she dropped to her knees next to the fallen woman, raised the knife high above her head, and slammed it down. The blade punched through Angela’s chest wall, impaling her heart and stopping it cold.
Jordan watched the life fade from her vanquished foe’s eyes.
A shudder of revulsion made her stomach lurch. The knife slipped from her hand. She pitched forward, her open palms slapping against the floor. Then it came, an awful tide of bile that filled the back of her throat before exploding out of her wide-open mouth. Fluid mixed with partially digested pieces of Todd splattered against the linoleum. The sight of the vile remains of her neighbor made her stomach heave again, and her entire body spasmed as she sprayed more vomit on the floor.
She became aware of a presence close to her. Bridget. The knowledge should have frightened her. She had to defend herself. She knew it, but for the moment she was incapable of doing anything about it. She was shaking harder than ever, her body beyond her control. That sick weakness returned, engulfing her. Sweat bloomed on her brow and a chill swept through her. She ached all over. She was so miserable she didn’t give a damn what happened to her.
She even prayed for her own death.
She turned her head a little to the right, glimpsed Angela’s lifeless, sliced-up body, and experienced another ripple of nausea, but this time it was a less violent dry heave. There was nothing left to throw up. Her eyes filled with tears again. She’d only meant to defend herself. What the hell had possessed her?
Bridget knelt next to her and placed a hand on her back.
Jordan’s breath caught in her throat.
Bridget stroked her, a soothing, sensual touch.
“That…feels nice,” Jordan said.
“Mmm.” Bridget’s hand moved up between her shoulder blades. “Let me guess. Something came over you. You didn’t feel like yourself. But it felt good.”
Jordan shuddered again. She sat up slowly and allowed the other woman to embrace her. “How…how did you know?”
Bridget smiled. “You felt the touch of the goddess. She was inside you.”
“But…how? You said-”
Bridget shushed her with a finger across her lips. “Never mind all that. I was wrong. Wrong about everything.” She smiled ruefully and shook her head. “This will sound nuts to you, but hear me out. I think there’s some things about yourself, about your origin, that you know nothing about. You’ve been lied to about your early life, I imagine.”
“But-”
“Relax.” Bridget touched her face, stroked her cheek. “Think about it. What’s your earliest memory? How much of your childhood do you really remember?”
Jordan scowled, shook her head in disbelief. “What the hell are you saying? I had a perfectly normal childhood.” But now she was thinking about it. A strange feeling came over her. Her scowl became a frown. It was odd, but she never thought much about her preadolescent years. She tried to cast her mind back to that time, but all that came to her were murky, dreamlike images. It was like a kind of mental block. “Well, this is…listen, just because I can’t remember anything…”
Bridget’s smile was full of sympathy. “It’s okay. You don’t need to be afraid. I can help you with this. Guide you. I can show you the truth.”
Jordan shrugged out of the embrace. “Why are you suddenly being so nice to me?”
Bridget’s smile didn’t waver. “There’s been one wild motherfucker of a paradigm shift, that’s all.” Her expression became more contemplative, but she seemed no less serene. “I hated you until a few moments ago. Not for any good reason. That’s just the kind of bitch I am. I’m as close to the goddess as any mortal can be. I think I have a special relationship with her. But the reality is that I’m just a mortal. I can’t know every facet of her grand design. I can only perceive or understand portions of it. You were a part I didn’t understand.” She hesitated, and a flicker of unease was apparent in her eyes. “Until now…I guess.”
Jordan’s expression was a study in confusion. “Oh, give me a fucking break, Bridget. I’ve had enough of this insanity. I’m not a part of anything to do with your fucking goddess.”
“But you are.” Bridget reached out to her, clasped hands with her. “Here’s what I do know. You are Lamia’s daughter. Sired by a human man. She told us you were out there. That one day you would return and become aware of your true nature, and that you would join us in the glory of the Harvest. You should embrace this gift, Jordan. Allow yourself to know the joy that is your birthright. You’re a half-breed, darling. Part divine, part human.”