Ghost in my Heart [Darklands Book 4] Read online

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  New Concepts Publishing

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  Copyright ©2005 by Autumn Dawn

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  GHOST IN MY HEART

  By

  Autumn Dawn

  © copyright by Autumn Beaudrealt, March 2005

  Cover Art by Jenny Dixon, © copyright March 2005

  ISBN 1-58608-356-2

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  Chapter 1

  "The situation is getting grim, Dagon."

  Dagon turned his back on the fire streaked sky. The night breeze ruffled his short dark hair, caressing his damaged cheek with a lover's promise.

  Pity it was the only lover he was likely to have in his lifetime.

  Not that he wanted a wife. Unfortunately, to get what he did want, a wife was required.

  "And you expect me to do what, Ser? Conjure more women from vapor? Personally impregnate our few surviving women with female babes?” His hands curled around the stone balcony rail. It was as unforgiving as their future. Even if the women who'd survived their enemy's virus managed to conceive—a feat in itself—none of them ever dropped girl children. If by some miracle all of them gave birth the next day to twin girls, there still wouldn't be enough women to go around, and those babes would take years to mature.

  Ironically, they couldn't even steal women from their enemy, for the virus had infected their women as well, devastating their population. It looked as if their generation's long war was going to end in total destruction.

  The double moons cast a pale light over Dagon's scarred face. The shiny acid burn ran in a narrow, long streak from his left eye and curved behind his ear. The arc looked like whimsical silver paint, but there was nothing smiling in Dagon's manner as he listened to his friend Ser's arguments.

  "We find women or we die out. I, for one, am not willing to give up hope.” Ser leaned forward as he argued, intent on winning.

  Oil torches sprang to life as their companions lit the darkness. There were more than a dozen warriors gathered that night; grim veterans desperately seeking some hope for the future.

  "What of the tunnels?” an older man asked.

  "What would we do with them?” Dagon countered. “Our enemies have the same problem as we do. Their women will be of no use to us.” The tunnels had been useful for teleporting into their unsuspecting enemy's territory in lightning-fast strikes. Unfortunately they had developed counter-technology and the tunnels had fallen into disuse. He couldn't see how they'd be any use now.

  "There were rumors,” the man, Xcallion, said slowly. “That the tunnels had been used to explore other worlds. Worlds with no lack of women. Compatible women, who could breed daughters."

  Silence met his words. No one wanted to speak of their sudden hope.

  "I've been there; to a place called Earth,” Xcallion went on. “We were not allowed to talk about it, but I saw the women. Some of them were very beautiful."

  The lone female among them, an aged, revered lady called Ellyn, spoke up. “If you speak the truth, Xcallion, and you go after these women, as I'm sure many of you are already thinking of doing, you must find a way to do it without causing more pain than must be."

  Still stunned by the idea of available women, a whole world's worth, Dagon demanded, “What do you mean?” He wanted to find the tunnels tonight and see these women for himself. Perhaps choose a dozen.

  "Some of these women will have families, friends, perhaps even husbands or children. You need some way of discovering which are free to come. You can not make them leave their husbands or babies."

  There was a general murmur of agreement.

  Dagon nodded. The laws of their world decreed a slow, painful death to a man who stole someone else's woman. Besides, he wanted a woman who was eager for his touch, not wasting her energy pining for another. She'd need all her energy just to keep pace with him. “We need a trap."

  "You are not hunting, Dagon,” Ellyn said sharply.

  "Oh, but we are. For young, lusty alien women. It will be one of the finest hunts of our lives."

  Male laughter and appreciative murmuring accompanied that. Already they felt hope.

  It had been a long time since Dagon had felt hope.

  Heated arguing about the best way to get the women broke out. Finally they decided to send out scouts. Once they had more information they would act.

  * * * *

  "I've said it before, Ser. I don't think women are going to be attracted to something like this.” He would have overruled the council's decision if he'd had a better idea.

  They'd remained behind in the new Earth based command center after everyone else had left, arguing over details. There was still a lot of work to be done in preparing the site, but the workers were eager. Already letters of invitation had been sent out to selected marks. The women would begin arriving very soon.

  Nothing about the coming project made Dagon feel easy.

  Ser glanced up from his plans. “I agree. Unfortunately the elders have gotten involved. They looked at the information and decided that the best way to screen women was to pose as a military-type academy offering incredible incentives. ‘Dreams come true', as they put it. A woman wants to own a home, we offer to make it possible. She wants education, we promise it."

  "Empty promises,” Dagon said with a frown.

  "No, they'll just take place in a different manner and on a different world than they anticipate."

  Dagon grinned. “True. But why the pretense at being a military academy? What if only brawny, ugly women apply?"

  "We'll screen them,” Ser said quickly, obviously disturbed by the idea himself. No one wanted an ugly wife. “And the military ruse will give us a chance to give them medical examinations. We don't want anyone with disease. A few days of calling you ‘sir’ will also train your woman to automatically look to you for authority."

  "You hope,” Dagon muttered, arms crossed. He'd seen the attitude of some of these Earth females in the two months they'd been hunting. He was used to protecting women, treating them with consideration. These Earth women almost demanded a man take them in hand before they would give him any measure of respect.

  On the other hand, these American girls were also quite relaxed in their morals. Remembered temptation heated his blood. He was surprised at himself. One would think that he'd have jumped at the chance to revel in the beds of the many women who'd offered themselves since he'd been here. Unfortunately he found himself strangely reticent. He could kiss them, caress their soft and eager bodies, but always something would stop him long before the final act. Maybe it was disgust at himself, the woman's easy virtue ... who knew? He only knew that once a woman started snaking her hands under his shirt, he had to disengage. Often to her loud protests and even curses.

  Most likely it was his religious training that was hard to break free of. It was easy to follow the credo of chastity outside of marriage when there were no women to sin with. A part of him had always looked askance at the rule, and he'd wondered how he'd f
eel if the opportunity to sin arose. Well, now he knew. Some virtuous piece of him had survived the years of vicious warring and was set on having a woman of his own to claim and defend, and forget the hard won lessons of deceitful women and politics. That part of him was like a starry eyed, smooth-skinned choir boy, and would take more effort to smash than it was worth, considering that he was about to have the pick of their captives in a matter of weeks. He was a man. He could wait that long.

  At least he didn't have to worry about pleasing a woman. That niggling worry had been completely burnt out. Now he just had to find one that wasn't eager to share herself with any likely male who wandered by.

  Papers shuffled as Ser slid a folder out of the haphazard pile on his desk. He handed it to Dagon, an amused gleam in his eye. “By the way, we've finished our list of those in charge of physical training. Your name is on it. As program ‘director’ we decided it would be expected."

  Tension gripped him as he looked at the list. “The only training I know is the hard kind, Ser. These women will not appreciate it. How will I find a wife when they will all hate me?"

  Unperturbed, Ser sent him a sly grin. “You're clever. You'll think of something. Besides, it will keep them occupied while we gather all the women. It will only be for a few days, but we don't want to miss any of the women who are delayed."

  They couldn't afford to. Once the women started disappearing, the Earth authorities were bound to get suspicious. They expected nearly a thousand women to arrive—an ambitious number. It would take a great deal of manpower to handle them, but the volunteers were more than eager to do so. If they could get two more groups of that size in, they would have enough women for the remnants of their population. Barely. The youth of the next generation might have to import their own wives in a few years, at least until the female babes of the Earth women grew up. Thanks to their science, they would be able to assure the sex of the children. They couldn't afford not to be selective.

  Dagon closed his eyes at the nebulous image of the woman who would be his. Very soon, he would slake this endless hunger. Soon, the loneliness would end. The hope of future generations rested on him getting her pregnant as soon as possible.

  Anticipation made his blood race, his head light. He couldn't wait to do his part.

  * * * *

  "Girl, you need a new hobby."

  HelVana Clue looked up from her microscope and blinked as her eyes adjusted. “This isn't a hobby, Kelsa. It's my job."

  Her roommate splayed one hand on her workshop counter and peered at her microscope slide. “How can you sit and stare at bug guts all day? Look at this poor guy. He's spread out and pinned down like some sort of sadistic sex experiment."

  Her clipboard made a poor shield, but Vana grabbed it and jotted down a few notes anyway. “I study microbes, insects, and lower life forms,” she said in her best ‘you are not going to get to me’ tone.

  "Bugs, girl. You study bugs.” She grimaced. “Do you know how hard it is to fix you up with anyone decent with a hobby like yours? And don't call it a job. You've yet to get a paycheck from it."

  Annoyed, she tossed aside the clipboard. “As if I'm dying for a date with one of your weird friends. Thanks for the thought, Kelsa, but no thanks. That last guy had a pierced nipple."

  "He showed you?” Kelsa asked with a naughty grin.

  Vana grimaced. “Unfortunately. It blended in well with his bleeding skull tattoo."

  "Yeah, but could he kiss or what?"

  "Why are you pestering me?” Vana asked, dodging the question. Of course she hadn't kissed the guy, especially not after he'd wiggled his pierced tongue at her. Thank God they'd been on a double date. She'd hate to think what he'd have been like if they'd been alone.

  She braced her feet on the bottom of her stool and scowled at Kelsa. “For that matter, you usually knock before you invite yourself into my lab."

  "That's because I never know what might be running around. Remember that two foot centipede that chased me that time?” She shuddered. Even her short blond locks seemed to quiver.

  Vana grinned. That little breeding experiment couldn't have gone better. Chasing her hyper roomie around had been a perk. “Millipede."

  "Whatever. This came for you today.” She took an envelope out of her backpack, handed it to Vana and waited expectantly.

  It was from the recruitment department of Dagon Academy, Science Division.

  Hands shaking, Vana took a deep breath to calm herself. This was it. Her one chance at greatness. With luck all her years of study in a much denigrated branch of science were about to be rewarded.

  She tore open the envelope, scanned the contents, and then squealed.

  Alarmed, Kelsa straightened, ready for action. “What is it?"

  "Yes! I did it!” She did a little victory dance and pumped her arm in the air. “Yes, yes, YES!"

  As if afraid she'd lost a few screws, Kelsa sent her an odd look and quickly snatched the letter away. Her expression turned skeptical. “You're not seriously thinking of going."

  Vana shot an incredulous look at her for that stupid remark. “If you think I'm giving up a once in a lifetime chance to further my education while paying it off, you're sadly mistaken. All I have to do is get accepted and they pay off my loans. It's like an army thing."

  A pen flipped rapidly between Kelsa's fingers as she cocked her head. “I don't know about those military types. They're all a horny bunch. I say, ‘trust them with your hide, but not your virtue'."

  Vana's mouth dropped open. “My what?"

  Kelsa slashed a hand through the air. “You never date. I'm your all knowing roommate, remember? It's my job to keep creeps away from you."

  "Creeps like your friends? Might I remind you of Eric the Irritating? King of the Arm Pit Noises?” Vana batted her eyes rapidly in a way that said she was really something special. “And you don't have to worry. My virtue is perfectly safe. Besides, you're just annoyed that you won't be able to keep tabs on every little detail of my love life."

  "Maybe, but I still can't picture you in army green. You hate to get up earlier than eight in the morning. How do you plan to stay awake when they get you up at five am to run?"

  "It's a mission, not combat. I don't see why you're so worried—it's not like I'll be running around in combat boots with a gun."

  * * * *

  "Oh no, oh no, aw ... nuts!” Vana whimpered in frustration and leaned her throbbing head against the steering wheel. It figured that the only spur of the moment trip she'd ever taken would end with her car dying on a deserted back road in the middle of nowhere. It was late, though the Alaskan midnight sun didn't know it. The prospect of sleeping in her car made her reach for her recycled water bottle and dig a painkiller out of her purse.

  No phone, no money, no car. The phrase thrummed through her skull as if set to bass. She got out of the car and looked around. Kicked her tire for good measure. Not a 7-Eleven from horizon to horizon. What had possessed her to leave Anchorage?

  The sound of a motorcycle downshifting brought her out of her reverie. Stiff and wary, she stared at the black helmeted man who pulled up like some dark knight sent to rescue her. Or something worse. Where had he come from?

  "Trouble?"

  I don't know, are you? She bit her lip, wondering about his smoky, rough accent. She'd never heard anything like it. “My car broke down. You wouldn't happen to have a cell phone, would you?” she asked hopefully. It would end the dilemma of whether or not she would have to accept a ride from a complete stranger ... if he offered.

  He shook his head and removed his helmet. Vana stared. Oh, he was trouble all right. From his short dark hair to his ice blue eyes, it was written all over his handsome face. It took just a touch of five o'clock shadow and—was that an earring?—to tilt him into the dangerous category.

  Spank me, a naughty part of her whispered.

  Shut up! Vana hissed back. He could be a mass murderer for all we know.

  She stepped back as he g
ot off the bike. The black leather of his jacket creaked. My, he was tall. And built. She swallowed.

  Although he wore a black leather jacket, she could tell by the fit of his jeans that the man worked out. And when he popped her hood and bent over....

  She looked away and searched for something to say. “Um, do you think you can fix it?"

  He looked at her in disbelief. “Who's your mechanic?” He gestured to the guts of her car. “This looks like a kid threw it together out of scrap parts."

  A cool fall breeze kicked up and she hugged herself. Irritated at his attitude and the situation, she kicked at a rock. “I bought it from a neighbor kid.” The kid had needed the money, and she'd liked the restored old vehicle. At the time it had been all she could afford.

  The hood slammed shut. “Well, you can't stay here.” He looked at her as if judging her caliber. “Are you going to stay here or take a chance with me?” A tilt of his head indicated the bike.

  "I.... “She let out a frustrated breath. It was either go with him or wait around for another stranger. “Okay. Thank you,” she said reluctantly. After all, he was being helpful. “Let me just get my back pack.” There was no point in grabbing her duffle bag, since it was loaded with more books and stuff than could ever fit on his bike, so she nabbed her pack with her essentials and locked her doors.

  "Hop on.” He made room for her on the seat as she gingerly placed a hand on his shoulder and threw a leg over. He handed her the helmet. “Stick your hands in my pockets if they get cold,” he told her, and started the engine.

  Vana swallowed hard. Uh, no, she thought. She'd have to be mighty chilly to do such an intimate thing. It was hard enough to grasp his waist and not think about how close they were on the bike. Nothing like that had ever happened to her. Handsome men didn't get close to her. Neither did anyone else.

  The helmet was too big. Worse, it smelled like his aftershave. The intoxicating scent of man and male teased her nose. Eyes closed, she inhaled the rich musk as the pavement whizzed by.

  She just hoped she didn't make an idiot of herself before the night was done.