“Fourteen inches?” Lucien whispered. His stare went to the big man’s crotch and he shuddered.
“Makes your measly little ten insignificant, huh?” Macmillan chortled. He reached down, freed that mammoth weapon, and laughed manically at Lucien’s gasp. “Seven inches in diameter, if you want to know, boy!”
“I had forgotten how well-endowed you were,” Sibylline said with a shiver.
Stuffing himself back into his britches, Macmillan folded his arms over his chest. “Fetch the boy’s playpretty and be quick about it else I’ll find another bitch to take To The Ground with me!”
Sibylline shot Lucien an annoyed look then shrugged. “You can’t compete with him, Luc,” she said.
A bright flash of light lit the cave almost as bright as day then broke apart into myriad sparkles of multicolored lights as Sibylline took her exit.
“She has a nasty habit of doing that,” Macmillan complained, scraping a hand over his eyes. “Makes my fucking eyes water every time.”
“Will she return with my lady to me?” Lucien asked, his heart thudding painfully in his chest.
“She’d fucking well better,” Macmillan growled. He hefted the dripping uterus in his palm. “If she wants this back.” He leaned closer. “Actually, this is nothing more than magic, wagtally, and she knows it. As long as she just thinks I’m holding her babymaker in my hand, she’ll tow the line.”
“I’m seeing it, too,” Lucien said, a little sick to the stomach at looking at the bloody thing.
“You’re seeing what I wanted you to see,” Macmillan said. He waved his hand and there was no longer anything in it nor was there blood pooling on the floor where Sibylline had been standing. The giant laughed.
“Then you didn’t really pull out…”
“Of course, not! It was a mind-curse. Symbolism, you twit!” Macmillan said with narrowed eyes. “You really aren’t too smart, are you?”
Lucien shook his head. “There was blood…”
“Aye there was blood!” Macmillan agreed. “How else was it to look real?”
“She was bleeding,” Lucien reminded him.
“Of course she was and she’ll continue to bleed even knowing damned well I didn’t pull nothing outta her! It’s the
thought
of it, wagtally. The
thought
that I could if I was of a mind to!” He slapped his meaty thigh. “I always did enjoy putting one over on that frisky whore!”
“Why would you want to hurt her like that?” Lucien asked.
“Hell, she knows I’ll be here when she returns and then I’ll lift the mind-curse and she’ll have that silly womb of hers back.”
Lucien pushed away from the wall. He was leery of the giant man—terrified of him if truth be told and that was a novelty for Lucien Korvina. He licked his lips, swallowed, and then asked what was to become of him.
“To you?” the Revenant king inquired. “Why the fuck would I care what happens to you, boy?”
“Will you let me take my lady and return to Modartha?”
Macmillan waved away the question. “You can go to hell for all I care.” He yawned. “I have been away from my grave too long and this world is worse than I ever imagined.” He turned toward Lucien, one eye screwed up, the other blazing with speculation. “Just what kind of Revenant king will you be on this fucked-up world, boy?”
“Reluctant, but I hope fair,” Lucien answered truthfully. He rubbed at the excruciating pain over his right eye, wincing for that area had become bruised from all his rubbing.
“Headache, eh?” Macmillan asked, his head to one side.
“I never had the damned things until I met Sibylline,” Lucien confessed.
Macmillan grinned. “That bitch could give a head of hog cabbage a headache.” He crooked his fingers at Lucien. “Come here, boy.”
Lucien came forward reluctantly. The giant glaring at him was too intimidating by far for Lucien to ever be relaxed around him.
Huge lips twitched. “Let me guess,” the colossus said. “You’re considered a warrior among warriors on this puny world and you are ashamed your bowels feel watery around me.” He laughed. “That isn’t a sign of cowardice, boy. That’s just a smart man knowing his limitations and acknowledging superiority.”
“I thought you said I had the brain of a gnat,” Lucien reminded him.
The laugh that rumbled out of Macmillan’s chest shook the ground and when he slapped a hand on his knee, the crack was deafening as it echoed around the cave.
“I like you, boy,” Macmillan chuckled. “You’ve got balls after all.” He winked. “Tiny little balls, I’ll grant you, but balls nevertheless.”
Standing in front of the tall man, Lucien felt like the child Macmillan considered him. In truth, the vast age difference between them certainly underscored the big man’s opinion. He had to steel himself not to flinch when that giant paw of a hand covered the top of his head.
“I don’t remember how it came about that Sibbie learned to cause headaches, but it’s one of the meaner tricks in her arsenal,” Macmillan commented. “I can’t tell you how many of her wagtallies I’ve cured of the ailment.”
Lucien opened his mouth to speak but the sudden sensation of a great suction sweeping from his chin to the top of his head stunned him and he staggered, reaching out to grab hold of Macmillan’s wide leather belt.
“Easy does it, boy,” the giant growled. “I don’t take to men putting their hands on me.”
Snatching his hand back as though he’d touched a hot skillet, Lucien swayed but realized the headache was gone, though the inside of his skull felt numb.
“It’ll take a moment or two to settle back to normal. When I remove the source of the pain, it doesn’t ever come back.” Macmillan put a rigid finger on Lucien’s chest and pushed. “Now get the fuck away from me. You humans stink.”
Stumbling back from the push, Lucien mumbled his thanks although he felt the insult to the very bottom of his heart.
Macmillan stomped over to the cave entrance and poked his head out. “Dawn’s coming, Sibylline! Get your pussy back here, bitch!”
Lucien frowned. “You don’t think she will stay at Croì Cloiche, do you?”
Macmillan snorted. “I know she won’t. Most likely she lost a bit too much blood and is having to—”
A bright spray of skittering blue lights exploded through the cave, causing both men to throw a hand over their eyes. When they lowered their arms, Christina was standing in the center of the cave, her eyes wide as saucers.
“Shit,” she said. “I’d never get used to traveling like that.”
Lucien rushed to her for Christina’s legs gave way beneath her. He caught her before she could hit the ground.
“You stink of female,” Macmillan complained, sniffing. “You’re one of those that gets her kicks from muffing.”
Christina gaped at the huge man. She shuddered, alarmed at his immensity. “Who is he?” she whispered to Lucien. “
What
is he?”
“I am your king, muff eater,” Macmillan introduced himself. He sniffed again. “And you smell of disease.” His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Are you diseased, muff eater?”
“She’s a healer,” Lucien said quickly. “She’s been working on finding a cure for the plague victims.”
The thunderous look on Macmillan’s face slowly disappeared. “A healer, eh?”
Christina clung to Lucien. “Why is he here?” she whispered.
“He came to fetch Sibylline.”
Nodding, she seemed reluctant to take her eyes from the mountain of a man but turned her face up to Lucien. “I was no party to your lady’s disappearance, Luc,” she said in an earnest tone. “I am no spy for…”
“He knows that, muffie,” Macmillan interrupted. “Tell me more of this plague.”
“Why?” Christina asked.
Rolling his eyes. “I believe the one thing I hate most about muffers is that they think they have balls.” He squinted. “You don’t and never will ‘less you strap ‘em on.”
“He cured my migraine,” Lucien told her. “He might be able to cure the plague.”
A suspicious look folded over Christina’s face. “Or make it worse.”
Macmillan strode forward, jerked Christina away from Lucien, spun her around and lifted her to his eye level and held her dangling in front of him by her upper arms.
“Not that I give a fuck what happens on this backward little planet of yours, but if Revenants are to thrive here, they will need good, rich sustenance. Diseased sustenance is of no use to them.” He cocked a head toward Lucien. “If he’s to be an effective king on your shitty little world, he needs to repopulate it with thralls that will provide him with a comfortable lifestyle.”
“And you can do that?” Christina challenged.
“I have fourteen inches of pecker that says I can!” Macmillan stated.
Christina’s mouth dropped open. “You’re joking,” she whispered.
“Wanna see?” Macmillan countered.
“No!” the healer denied, shaking her head. “Not even in my nightmares!”
Macmillan grinned. “It’s a sight to see, lemme tell you, muffer.” He lowered her to the floor then draped a heavy arm around her shoulder. “Let us talk about this plague.”
Christina looked as though she had a boulder resting on her shoulder but she allowed the giant to lead her to one of the rocks and they sat down.
Lucien breathed a sigh of relief that Christina was all right but he was still nervous as he waited impatiently for Khamsin to be returned to him. He paced the confines of the cave, going often to the entrance to look out.
“She will bring the girl back, won’t she?” Christina whispered, sensing Lucien’s worry.
“As far as she knows I have her babymaker in my pocket,” Macmillan said. “She’ll be back for it.”
Christina looked around at Lucien. “He’s a good man.”
“So I keep hearing,” Macmillan said with a grunt. “You females are always being misled by a pretty face.”
“He has that,” Christina agreed.
“Aye, well if I was a cocksipper, I might be tempted but give me a dripping snatch any day,” Macmillan said.
“Me, too,” Christina agreed with a giggle.
“Have you ever tried…”
Lucien ignored the whispering and tittering going on behind his back. He knew the two were beginning to bond at his expense but it was better than having them glaring suspiciously at one another. He stood at the cave entrance, his forehead resting on his arm, staring out and—for the first time in centuries—prayed to a God he suspected had forsaken him long ago.
Chapter Fourteen
Khamsin turned over and drew her knees up to her chest. Her fetal position helped to control the violent spasms that were rippling through her body.
“The reaction will pass soon and when it does, I’ll take you to Luc,” Sibylline told her.
The coppery smell of blood permeated the chamber for Sibylline had lost a copious amount before packing her empty cavity with all the cobwebs she could gather until she became too weak to stand.
“Son of a whoring bitch didn’t think about me bleeding when he pretended to pull out my womb,” Sibylline complained.
Shuddering, Khamsin reached up a trembling hand to wipe away the tears that flowed from her eyes. “When he pretended to do what?”
Sibylline waved away the question. “Sometimes he goes a bit far in making his fucking point!”
The sight of the blood on the chamber floor was too much for Khamsin and she put her hands over her face and sobbed. It wasn’t just Sibylline’s blood but her own that was smeared on the floor.
“Don’t you realize yet what a gift I’ve given you?” Sibylline snapped. “Stop that blubbering, girl!”
Her throat was on fire, aching with a pain Khamsin could barely tolerate. It was an agony that made it hard for her to breathe and she was so weak, her heartbeat so slow, she feared she was dying.
“Well, you aren’t!” Sibylline snapped. “You should thank me instead of lying there cursing me, you cunt!”
The punctures in her throat throbbed with a life of their own and the venom from Sibylline’s fangs spread hot acid through Khamsin’s veins.
“Perhaps I took a bit too much but, hell, I needed it,” Sibylline muttered. “I sure couldn’t take it from another Revenant. You were my only choice.” She shrugged. “Unfortunately, my bite is more potent than even that of Lucien’s so that’s why you’re having a bit more reaction to it. My venom isn’t diluted as it would have been from sweet Luc.”
Khamsin closed her eyes to the misery undulating through her. It was more than just the Revenant venom spreading through her, turning her into an undead creature, it was fear of the unknown that disturbed the young woman.
“You won’t age and you won’t ever gain weight,” Sibylline lectured. “You will be immune to every illness.” She glanced at Khamsin. “And you will be with your lover for all eternity.”
Opening her eyes to that statement, Khamsin felt a moment’s relief from the wretchedness that had washed through her.
“He won’t thank you for doing this to me,” she said weakly.
“The hell he won’t!” Sibylline disagreed. “He might have loftily agreed to grant you free will, girl, but he would have found a way to have you ask for the turning. He wants to spend his lifetime above ground with you.”
“My blood was important to the Revenants,” Khamsin reminded her. “Now, you’ve made it worthless.”