Ancient Evil (The First Genocide Book 1) (11 page)

Simple sterilization would have been a
fairly meaningless punishment. It was also unlikely that Caleb and Clea would
have ever been allowed to breed with others unless they managed to prove
themselves in some exceptional way. His unconventional appearance and her light
coloring would have made it much more difficult for them to be authorized to
breed, even without a trial. Her fair complexion indicated that she had some
Host blood somewhere in her lineage. Cross breeding between Host and Guest had
been outlawed a few generations ago after the Emergence, but the fairer
coloring of the Host still turned up now and then among the Guest.

Subjecting them to the Nightfeeder Curse
was harsh, but in this way they would continue to be useful to the City and
Empire. As Sela, their mother, was past her optimal breeding window and had
been sterilized already, she was exempt from the curse.

Hael could understand the logic, but that
did not mean he agreed. He could not let this happen to Clea.

Hael started to get up. He needed to see Mi
Donta.

His pleading with Donta had borne no fruit.
He was, however, required to witness the execution of the sentence. As Donta
was not willing to spare Clea, Hael would do as he was told. The Debt required
obedience even when it was difficult to obey.

The sentence was carried out in the temple
beside the Academy. The temple was functional rather than magnificent. It could
handle a Working of moderate complexity and power, such as the Nightfeeder
Curse, and it could serve as a focal point during the annual Renewal
Celebration, but it could not support a major Working, such as a Gaes, on its
own.

Hael was expected to bear witness from the
front row bench, so he did. The victim was supposed to have an unobstructed
view of the convicted.

Caleb and Clea were dragged from the depths
of the Temple into the massive inscribed granite circle that housed the four
altar stones. Only two would be used today. Clea looked up and her odd blue
eyes locked on Hael’s. She was a terrified vision of white robes, pale skin and
golden hair. She was looking for a savior but she only found Hael, obedient
Hael. He looked back impassively, as was expected. He saw the last of her hope
wither in her eyes and the bloom of hate replace it as she and Caleb were bound
to the altar stones.

Nine Host adepts entered the ring of
granite, heads bowed and cowls drawn forward to obscure their faces. They
silently made a circle around Caleb and Clea. They joined hands and minds. They
broke open Caleb and Clea’s mental shields and performed the Nightfeeder Curse.

Caleb and Clea were cursed to never breed.
They were cursed with absolute obedience to their makers. They were cursed to
crave pain and suffering in others. They were cursed with indifference,
remoteness and emotional shallowness. They would be unable to experience joy or
love. And finally they were cursed to live and serve in the resulting,
miserable half-life for eternity or until destroyed.

Clea sobbed once as the ritual started.
When it was done she was dry-eyed. She and Caleb were unbound and they walked
without complaint out of the temple and, presumably, out of the City. It was
likely that they were had already been assigned to a Legion in the field with a
Nightfeeder Brigade. The priests would mentally transmit their control patterns
to the commander of the Legion that they were assigned to. A control pattern
was a complex image that was used to command one of the Cursed. When issuing an
order, the commander would project the control pattern into the mind of the
Nightfeeder to guarantee obedience. A command linked to the control pattern was
irresistible. Each of the cursed was issued with a unique control pattern to
ensure that only one of those authorized could issue commands. Thus, the reigns
of control could be passed from master to master ad infinitum.

The two newly created Nightfeeders would
fight in the war until they had been destroyed or the war was over. And the war
was eternal.

Brightly colored rugs covered the entire
floor, which was a shame, as one would presume the floor would be made of the
same creamy marble that covered the walls of the room. Cushions of red and
yellow were piled at strategic places around the room. A low table in the
center of the room was covered with bowls of grapes, oranges, figs and
cherries. Scattered amongst the fruit were a few small platters of grilled meat
on skewers. Shallow bowls with dipping sauces accompanied the meat platters.

Alcoves lined the walls. Within the alcoves
were various objets d’art like clay statuaries, golden trinkets and vases
decorated with hunting scenes. On the marble walls were frescoes depicting more
hunting scenes and a few battles. The north wall, however, was covered by a
graphic and forbidden scene depicting the Cleansing, during which Mi Zabab’s
people had achieved preeminence over their makers.

The aroma of the meat made Donta’s stomach
rumble as he entered the room. Donta had not eaten for several hours.

Mi Zabab looked up from where he lounged
beside the table on a pile of cushions.

Donta grabbed a meat skewer and walked over
to the north wall and studied the fresco, his back to Zabab. “I wonder, what
would happen if one of your Orthodox brethren were to visit you and see this
wall?”

Zabab projected his mental response
directly to Donta in the private mode.

Zabab –> Donta:
Unlikely, Donta. One
of the Orthodox would no more visit me than they would sully themselves with
visiting you. The only way they will get in here is if I die or I retire. I
have no plans of retiring and if I die, what would I care?

“Remind me to paint this room if I decide
that I have had enough of your ancient bones and decide to supplant you.”

Zabab snorted.

Zabab –> Donta:
Please, you may as
well supplant the entire Host. You are only Patron of the Academy because of my
influence and because Eligos sees your appointment as a way to insult Malphas
and Vassago.

Donta did not reply immediately. He kept
his thoughts tightly shielded as his eyes devoured the fresco, thinking.
Eventually he broke the silence. “You did not call me here to discuss politics,
nor to remind me that I owe my position of, shall we say, virtual equality with
you, at your sufferance. What is it you wanted to discuss?”

Zabab –> Donta:
The boy you
sentenced. The sentence was harsh, harsher than it should have been.

“What would you have me do? His petty,
impulsive action could have set back our plans a generation.”

Zabab –> Donta:
Surely another
punishment would have served?

“No. None has come close to the potential
of our current candidate.” Donta turned back to face Zabab and gestured with
the untouched meat skewer in his hand at the fresco he had been studying. “You
and I both know that the City is changing. It has changed more in the two
thousand years that my people have been among you than it had in the thirty
thousand years since the Cleansing occurred. We both know the Orthodox are
nervous; if we need to wait for another generation, there may not be another
generation.” Donta’s voice had gained volume as he spoke. He took a breath and
continued in a more measured tone. “What makes you care so for one of my
people?”

Zabab –> Donta:
You overstep
yourself. All of my efforts are directed to rebalancing our society. I yearn
for a new Golden Age as much as you do. You know this.

“Apologies. I know the Guest have no
greater supporter among the Host than Mi Zabab, and I know our cause would be
lost before it began without you.” Donta dipped his head in a cursory bow.
Donta had secret misgivings that Zabab’s intentions were not entirely
altruistic. He also secretly felt that if he ever voiced this opinion, Zabab
would need to find someone to fill the position created by the untimely death
of one Mi Donta. “I am still puzzled about why you would concern yourself with
the oaf? He is patently unsuitable for this society, or for the one we plan to
give birth to.”

Zabab –> Donta:
I just want to ensure
that we do not reveal our interest in the candidate too early. Did you need to
curse the sister too?

Donta turned back to the fresco, happy his
thoughts were still shielded. The sister. This was about the sister. The old
lecher. That must be it.

Donta could see that she was beautiful, but
her coloring was enough to dampen his ardor. Blue eyes, golden hair and pale
skin; it was unnatural in the Guest.

However, her coloring may have actually
made her more attractive to Zabab, rather than something to accommodate or
overlook. Perhaps he had some sort of perverted interest in Donta’s people.
Donta had not spoken for a few seconds, and he needed to respond before Zabab
decided to take note of his thoughtful silence.

“Yes, the girl. It may have been harsh to
make her into a Nightfeeder, but I needed to make an example.” As an added sop
to Zabab’s vanity he added, “I will consult you in the future on anything
involving the boy.”

Zabab –> Donta:
Thank you, Donta, I
could ask for no more. I am the servant of our cause; I care nothing for myself.
The rewards of service in a noble cause are sufficient for one of the
Enlightened, no matter how influential they are.

Donta stifled a groan. He would need to
give the girl to the ancient pervert and then cover his tracks. He would need
to call in a lot of favors to make this happen and even owe some new ones as
well.

“Mi Zabab, it has occurred to me that we
may be able to do something to make the sentence less harsh for the girl.
Although we cannot reverse the Nightfeeder Curse, perhaps if she served in your
household rather on the field battle, she would have a better life. Being able
to spend time in your noble presence should be recompense for being cursed.”

Zabab pretended to consider this for a
minute.

Zabab –> Donta:
Although I hate
cleaning up after your messes, Donta, I will take the girl off your hands. I
will accept her into my household. Arrange for it, quietly.

The old bugger’s thought was tinged with a
slight crumb of lust. Zabab had been controlling his thoughts in Court for
longer than Donta cared to guess, so he must have been creaming in his robe to
have let even that crumb slip through. Donta knew Zabab was one of the
ancients, but he was not sure exactly how ancient he was. Some wild rumors even
claimed that Zabab was close to the Emperor’s age. A ridiculous thought, or so
Donta had presumed when he first heard it; now he was not so sure.

Donta dipped his head again.  “Thank you,
Mi Zabab, you are most generous.”

Baby
wondered where Charlie was. She had not seen her for a few days. This was not
particularly unusual. What was unusual was that she was late again to a meeting
of the coven. After the last meeting she was sure that Charlie would never,
ever be late again. It looked like she may miss the meeting altogether. Being
late to one of Leader’s meetings was rare, but absent was unheard of. They sat
in the pub at their regular table and waited.

They were not all living together at the
moment. They altered their living arrangements fairly frequently to avoid
attention. Sometimes they lived together like a bunch of students. Sometimes
they would marry one of the Herd and live in the suburbs and sometimes they all
lived as single professionals in tony urban areas.

After her satisfying little fling with Ray,
Baby had transitioned to single professional mode, which was Baby’s favorite
way to live. It gave her the most independence, and she only needed to meet
with the coven a couple of times a week. Although they all detested each other,
proximity to others in the coven made them all feel more secure. More
importantly, it allowed them to get more emotional fixes as they shared their
latest conquests with each other through their Soul Catchers.

Tonight was not a scheduled meeting; Leader
had sent out a Summons, which compelled them all to turn up.

Leader’s face gave nothing away, but Baby
could feel her unease seeping through as the time passed and Charlie did not
show. After an hour of waiting, Leader leaned forward and said, “Nothing?”

Lewis, Donald and Little Eve all shook
their heads, then turned towards Baby. She hesitated, then shook her head.

Other than Leader, they all knew that she
was the most sensitive, as well as the most powerful, of their little coven.
Actually, even Leader’s superiority was debatable. When Leader and Baby were
not present the others hypothesized about whether Baby could take down Leader
in a fair fight. The debate was, of course, academic; none of them could defy
Leader, much less fight her, as they were Bound to her will. Even if they had
not been Bound, the likelihood of Leader engaging in any fight that could be
considered even close to fair was inconceivable. If any being in existence
could be considered a survivor, that was Leader and survivors did not follow
the rules … they made up their own.

Leader:
Why did you hesitate? Did you
feel something?

Baby took a deep breath and centered
herself before replying. She would control the power of her mindspeech today.
She would.

Baby:
Nothing tangible. I just feel she
is nearby. No direction or location.

Leader
: Could she hide from you?

Baby
: She has never tried.
[pause]
But, no, she’s neither subtle enough nor strong enough.

Leader
: I thought as much. Could she be
hurt? Try calling to her, loudly.

Baby:
CAN WE RISK IT?

Baby flushed with embarrassment as the
others flinched. She tried again.

Baby:
Can we risk it?

Leader
: We need to. I need to know what
happened.

Baby:
OK, if you really want me to.

Leader:
Just fucking do it. Alright?

Baby:
CHARLIE! WHERE ARE YOU?

The others shook their heads a little as if
to clear out the cobwebs. The other patrons in the bar had all paused in what
they were doing and there was silence. Then the barman dropped a glass. The
sound seemed to return everything to normal. Conversations restarted, quieter
than before.

Lewis
: Impressive, Baby. Leader, we need
to move. Every hunter, sensitive, acolyte and bogeyman within 500 miles would
have heard that.

Leader
: I decide what we need and what
we NEED to do is to find Charlie. Baby, any response?

Baby:
I FELT.

She stopped and visualized crimson rose
beaded with morning dew, regaining control of her emotions. Then she tried
again.

Baby:
I felt a faint tingle that could
have been her. I can’t be sure. It could have been some curious sensitive or
another coven. If it was her, it was close.

Leader
:
We would know if she was
truly dead. Do you think it was her?

Baby nodded.

Little Eve:
Could another coven have
snatched her?

Lewis
: She would have screamed her head
off, unless they managed to damage her badly and quickly. I doubt even another
coven could do that without her getting a squeak out. What could take her down
so quickly that she could not get a mindshout out?

Leader:
I can think of a couple of
things. Only a couple.

Leader closed off her thoughts and then Commanded
them.

Leader:
Find her.

Donald:
How? Lewis is right, we need to
move. Others may come to investigate Baby’s shout.

Leader leaned forward and unleashed her
will on them at full force, and said, “Find her.” It was a Command they could
not ignore.

Leader split them into two teams. Baby and
Eve would search remotely. Donald and Lewis were responsible for the physical
search, street by street, sniffing after Charlie’s psychic scent.

Little Eve’s flat was closest to the pub,
so Baby and Little Eve went there after scoring some ganja from a skinny bloke
with a scarce beard who had set up shop in the darkest corner of the pub. Baby
worked better when she was relaxed. They had both flirted with him, getting his
hopes up while getting his price down. In the end he practically gave them the
skunk for free. Once they paid him they taunted him and called him a pathetic
pervert, and his anger and shame had been mildly satisfying. They could have
just compelled him to hand over the drugs, but they needed to have some fun,
didn’t they?

Baby would be vulnerable as she searched,
so Little Eve would make sure her body was safe while her spirit went
wandering.

Looking at Little Eve you would not think
that she was Leader’s enforcer. She was small of size, lush of body and
innocent of face. She looked about seventeen years old and would no doubt have
needed to show an ID to buy a drink if she lived outside of Britain. Her flirty,
quick smiles often made her victims drop their guard. When they did she was
just as likely to pull out their heart as give them a hug. Baby would be safe
with Little Eve to watch over her. Anything that tried to get past Little Eve
would be broken into tiny, little, bloody pieces.

Baby started to prepare for a deep trance.
She took a couple of tokes on Eve’s purple plastic bong, settled into a lotus
pose in the middle of the Moroccan rug that covered the center of the floor in
Little Eve’s lounge and closed her eyes.

Her breathing deepened and slowed naturally
as she visualized a rose bud against a black background. The bud rotated and
began to bloom. When she had a perfect carmine rose centered in her mind, she
followed the stem back and added the rest of the rose bush to her
visualization. She added more and more plants until she had visualized an
entire garden.

The garden was surrounded by a thick
fieldstone wall that would have stood taller than her head, had she been
standing. A heavy iron gate guarded the only breach in the thick encircling
stone wall. The gate was covered in black iron roses and black iron foliage.
This imaginary garden refuge was her safe zone and it was where she would flee
if she ran into trouble. While Little Eve protected her body, her refuge would
serve to protect her mind and spirit if she was attacked.

The risk of attack on the etheric plan was
rare however, these were rare times. It was not a time to skimp on precautions.
After all, someone or something had managed to neutralize Charlie without it alerting
her brothers and sisters in the coven.

She moved her refuge to the back of her
mind and became more aware of her body again. She loosened the connection to
her body, limb by ethereal limb. When she was ready she flung her consciousness
up and out and found herself looking down on her cross-legged body sitting on
the rug in Eve’s apartment.

With her inner vision she could see the
glowing outline of the pentacle taped to the bottom of the rug her body was
sitting on. Her spiritless body looked no different than normal, except for the
glowing silver strand that anchored her spirit to a point near her navel.
Little Eve, however, no longer looked quite so innocent.

Little Eve’s spiritual aspect, the image
that represented her on the ethereal plain and overlay the physical image of
her body, was twisted and bloated by the misery she fed on. It was the soul of
an ogre surrounded by a purplish-black, bruise-like aura. Her aspect was
massive, dwarfing her petite physical frame. The size of her aspect indicated
her strength, and she was strong, stronger than all the others, except for
Leader and Baby. Donald and Lewis’s aspects were no less hideous, but they were
about half the size of Eve’s. Leader kept her aura shielded at all times, so it
was hard to tell where she fell; however, they all assumed that she was in the
badass heavyweight category.

Baby was grateful she could not easily see
her own aspect. She knew it was not as twisted as Eve’s. It was not pretty
either. She was no innocent, but she was not as steeped in evil as Little Eve.
Not yet, anyway.

She willed her spirit up and floated
through the ceiling and into the night sky. The city glowed softly below her.
Colored lights, representing the souls of the city’s inhabitants, flowed
through the streets. Here and there, some brighter lights indicated Latents
with high potential psi.

The city’s hospitals drew her attention.
Random bright flashes indicating births and deaths, agony and addiction,
pleasure and pain. She pulled her attention from the hospital and instantly
noticed the dark jewel-like colors of Donald and Lewis; they had neglected to
shield themselves.

Baby –> Donald, Lewis:
Cover your
auras, boys, there may be other seekers out there.
She spoke to their minds
in the private mode.

Donald –> Baby, Lewis:
Yeah, yeah, we
were just going to,
Donald sent back, then more softly,
Uppity bitch.

She pretended she did not hear the last
part. She saw Donald and Lewis’s auras briefly flare, then dim until they were
dark, almost invisible smudges of charcoal.

Not noticing anything else obvious, she
started to scan the rest of the city in a grid pattern, looking for Charlie.

***

Charlie was on the beach.

It was a beautiful day. The deep blue sky
had a couple of puff ball clouds. They would pass between her and the sun once
in a while, resulting in a slight chill that made her appreciate the sun all
the more when they returned. The sea was shallow, green close in and blue
further out. The sand was white. A light wind was coming off the water. It was
more than a breeze but still not strong enough to blow sand up onto her face or
body.

It was Charlie’s favorite spot, her refuge,
and it was deserted. It was always deserted because that’s the way she liked
it.

She was not sure why, but there was a knot
of anxiety radiating from her gut. The feeling intensified whenever she started
to consider possible sources of the anxiety. She really did not want to think
about where it was coming from, but, like a loose tooth, she could not stop
probing and the anxiety was starting to feel a little like panic.

She was used to anxiety. Leader induced
anxiety in everyone she came into contact with. Panic was something alien to
her, something, until recently, she had no longer thought herself capable of.

Out on the water clouds were gathering.
Black, oily clouds that twisted around a vortex in the sky. The wind picked up
and the sand started to plink off her bare skin.

Charlie lay back on the sand, closed her
eyes and tried to ignore the hole in the sky. She took a deep breath and
focused. The wind waned for a second then surged back with a roar. Charlie
peeked out at the ocean and saw a water spout form between the clouds and the
hole in the sky.

As the water spout approached she both
started to sink into the sand and was stretched towards the gaping maw in the
sky. Her reality was losing substance.

She poured all of her willpower into
normalizing her environment to no effect. She would not give in, she would not
wake up. She could not wake up.

No.

No.

No.

She woke up.

She was in a cage. She was in a fucking
cage.

She had woken up in the cage before, she
knew that now. She had been blocking knowledge of this place from her
consciousness.

She tried to broadcast a call for help but
her thoughts were trapped in this room. The cage held her — mind and body. She
was limited to the normal five senses, in a way she had not been for centuries.
Not since Leader had decided that she was more than just food and Turned her.
She was proud of living long enough to be Turned. She knew very well the odds
of surviving were miniscule.