"These is my powers," Dymas said. "What's yours? You're a dog. You hunt and sniff and follow the scent of blood. You ain't one of us. You're fodder. I weren't happy when your mother died, but at least she didn't see the wretch you are!"
Holding back his tears, Alden looked away from the man who claimed to be his father. Dymas moved with unbelievable speed and agility, leaping to his son's side and kneeling beside the boy as Alden recovered from the slight dizziness he felt after watching Dymas in motion.
"I want to see Pieraccinni," Alden said firmly.
"That old woman has hawked you enough. Don't you mention his name."
Furiously whirling on the flayed man, Alden shouted, "Pieraccinni was there for me. Where were you?"
Dymas laughed. "You call yourself his, but you ratted on the pig when you knew he was one of us. I bet you weren't pleased none to learn you wasn't exactly much better." He frowned. "Come on now, boy. Admit it. Ain't you happier knowing your blood ain't tainted with humanity?"
To the night people, humans were monsters, Alden knew.
Dymas's features softened. "Ah. You never seen the lands of your people. Our kingdoms make this world look like nothing. If I could take you there, you wouldn't act like this at the thought of your true sire. %u'd be happy with what you are. You would, you know."
Raising his misshapen hands before him, Alden found he no longer could hold back his tears. His gentle hands, which had caressed the soft flanks of a dozen women, now would tear bloody gashes in their skin. He was becoming more of an animal with every hour.
"If it was such a paradise, why leave?" Alden asked.
"We didn't have no choice," Dymas said ruefully. "The prey we had ate for as long as we could remember was dying off. All we could do was eat off each other or find new worlds with new prey. There was somethin' of a war. All this energy was released. The sages said our reality was torn. Doors opened, gateways to other realms, like this one. Most of us fought the new order. I mean, it would've bred the hunter from us, would've made us less than we are. We left our homes for these new worlds. We've been quiet, secret like, you know, but we've grown. Don't fool yourself, we've-"
"What is the apparatus?" Alden said, interrupting.
Dymas smiled. "That you'll know tonight."
Alden thought of the scene he had witnessed at the cavernous retreat, the plans Tamara and Zeal had made to betray Lord Sixx. He had kept his silence. Staring into the flayed man's deceptively soft eyes, Alden said, "I look forward to that, father. I do."
"Maybe there's hope for you," Dymas said as he took the young man in an embrace that startled Alden.
"Yes," Alden said as he looked out over his father's shoulder, his red eyes blazing, his sharp teeth grinding. "Perhaps there is, after all."
From outside he heard the sound of thunder and the siren's call of Bellophat's music, which raised a longing in his heart that sickened him. A familiar scent came to him suddenly, one that he had not expected to breathe ever again.
Krystin was nearby.
The proximity of her blood made him tremble. Overwhelmed by new and terrible desires, he clutched at his father, praying that he would be able to keep his inhuman needs under control long enough for Krystin to escape.
Myrmeen, Krystin, and Ord could tell they were getting close. They had taken shelter beneath an overhang of a warehouse overlooking the docks. The music overpowered the thunder and the driving, insistent strumming of the rain. They had passed dozens of men and women who wandered about entranced, and Myrmeen wondered if Calimport would become a city of sleepwalkers; even the dour men of the city guard had succumbed to Bellophat's sweet music, their eyes squeezed shut, smiles of transcendence on their faces. In the harbor, ships had floated toward the docks and crashed, the men on board falling over like dolls on an unsteady surface. The survivors calmly drifted into the water, many approaching shore, where they were drawn by the music.
Myrmeen could feel the intoxicating lure of Bellophat's call. She took Krystin's hand and said, "I'm betting there will be no guards with Bellophat. No one is expecting a fight. I want you to stay here."
"That's suicide," Krystin said.
"No," Myrmeen said, Tamara's blood causing a swelling of confidence within her breast. "I can do this alone."
"If there's no risk, why not let us come with you?" Ord said as he felt his own need for action rise.
Krystin touched Myrmeen's arm. "You said you would never doubt my abilities in a fight again. You said-"
"Just shut up and wait, all right?" Myrmeen screamed, her rage bringing her to the verge of embracing an all-too-familiar sensation: The last time she had experienced such a killing frenzy, such a taste of ecstasy, of blind animal release with no human guilt and no human feelings to bar her from her pleasure, had been the time she had slipped on Shandower's gauntlet and felt the apparatus's magic surge through her.
Myrmeen bit her lip hard enough to draw blood. She shuddered as she fought the impulse to run screaming through the streets, killing anything that moved in her way.
"It's not just Tamara's blood," she said softly. "Bellophat's music affects the night people, too. It helps release what's in their hearts."
And what's in ours, Krystin thought, frightened by what she saw in Myrmeen's eyes.
"Please," Myrmeen begged, "I don't want you to see me like this. Let me go alone."
Krystin backed away.
"Protect her, Ord!" Myrmeen cried. He nodded. Unable to contain her murderous desire any longer, Myrmeen bolted from them, her boots splashing through rapidly forming puddles as she hurtled through the streets and vanished.
Ord touched Krystin's shoulder. She looked up and saw that not all the moisture on his face had come from the steady flow of the rain.
"They're gone," he said, "all of them."
Krystin knew that Ord finally was allowing himself to feel the grief he had been denying over his parents' deaths. She wondered if perhaps Tamara's blood and the call of Bellophat's music had pried loose his buried emotions. For whatever reason, he had begun to cry.
Krystin felt a strength and compassion in her heart that was bold and true. She reached up and smoothed away the tear that was drifting past his cheek, then took Ord in her arms. They held each other, Ord whispering that he was sorry, so very sorry, for the things he had said and done, and Krystin's words echoed his. The rain lessened slightly and they became aware that they were no longer alone.
"A Harper and his slut," a voice called.
Krystin whirled to see a horribly wounded man standing before her on the street. The glow of lanterns created pools of light on the cobbled street where rainwater had gathered. The maze of buildings surrounding them suddenly felt tight and claustrophobic. Staring at the man who was lighted from behind by an overhead lantern, Krystin saw that he was not wounded, but had been burned or flayed.
"Time to come out and play, my son," Dymas called.
Ord spun and stared straight up as he heard the scrape of claws on the fragile roof beneath which they had taken shelter. Krystin clutched at his arm as the roof was torn in half. Above, the creature that had been Alden McGregor looked down at them and licked its lips.
Krystin had time only to scream as Alden leapt.
Several blocks away, Myrmeen crouched in an alley, where she had forced her berserker's rage under control. These are not the thoughts of a rational woman, she had repeated in her mind until she was able to think clearly. The irony of the statement that brought her under control was not lost on her; these were hardly normal, rational circumstances. At the end of the alley she saw people gathering and realized that she had come close to one of the many outdoor shopping pavilions. Naturally, this is where the greatest concentration of people would be found in the city at night.