Ghost in my Heart [Darklands Book 4] Read online

  Nikon glanced sharply at Vana. Grumbling started among his men.

  To egg him on, she raved, “What are you talking about? I'm not crazy!” she fired a shot into the air to prove her point. Instantly the warriors leveled their guns at her.

  The blonde screamed and grabbed her head, apparently sure she was dead.

  Vana gulped. Hoo, boy! She was toast. Maybe she was too good an actor ... either that or she'd watched too much garbage on TV.

  Vana grabbed the back of her captive's hair, trying not to be too rough. “Relax! Play along,” she whispered. Though the girl probably thought she was nuts, she didn't fight. That was good, because the sight of all those rifles pointed at Vana made her light-headed. Heaven help her, she'd never pulled a stunt like this in her life! What had possessed her to act like a Wild West gunslinger?

  "You see?” the warrior shouted. He waved his gauntleted hand at the other women, most of who still looked drugged and befuddled. “She's crazy and the minds have gone on the rest of them. Give them to Nikon. He deserves a crazy mate,” he sneered.

  Without another word, Nikon turned and mounted his dragon. With a roar, it leapt into the air and winged away. As one, his warriors rode off. Whatever appeal the women might have had seemed to have disappeared.

  The instant they were out of sight, the girl pulled away from Vana and slapped away the hand with the gun. “What did you think you were doing? You could have killed me!"

  "They left, didn't they?” The words were pure reflex. Shock was setting in. She was half-surprised the blonde had the energy left to fight.

  "You were pulling my hair!” the blonde shouted, outraged, and by the look in her eyes, terrified of what was happening.

  The warrior broke into their conversation by snatching his gun.

  "You know each other?” he growled, seemingly uncertain of whether he ought to tackle Vana or not. He grasped her biceps just in case.

  "No,” the girl said, eyeing him with wide, wild eyes.

  "Bind that one,” Dagon snapped, pointing at Vana. “I want no more trouble from her until we reach the citadel."

  Before she could protest, the warrior who held her arm produced a pair of cuffs and secured her hands in front of her. Without a word, he took her arm and started marching with the rest of warriors, herding the women along with them.

  The blue shield moved with them as they walked, though Vana couldn't detect the source. It was easy enough to see the alien shape of the naked trees. Wind bent the tops and snatched the few remaining leaves, though the temperature inside the shield remained tolerable, as if it held in their body heat.

  Dagon didn't look at her again. She resented that. Not only was she scared, but it was his fault she was here. If he'd really been a nice guy, he'd have....

  What? Reassured her? Her inner voice demanded. That was stupid. He'd as much as said they'd been captured and lied to so these men could have sex with them. Did she expect him to say that it wouldn't happen? That she was an exception?

  Grow up, the tough side of her demanded. You're nothing but a piece of meat to him. You're better off using your time to plan an escape.

  She looked around and shivered at the alien landscape. She didn't even know how they'd gotten there. How would she ever get back home?

  They'd walked about two miles before she saw a glowing blue city in the distance. The walls of the city were laid out in a ring, and the whole thing shimmered with what she suspected was another shield. As they got closer she discovered that the walls were truly massive and completely smooth, like metal.

  Those inside must have seen them coming, because the walls opened up and men on silver hover sleds with animal head cowlings poured out. A large transport accompanied them.

  "About time,” Dagon snapped at the warrior who reached them first. “I've been trying to raise you on the communicator for an hour."

  "You must have been jammed. We received no transmissions,” the man answered.

  The transport stopped in front of them, and the tired, frightened women were loaded inside and seated under guard.

  The beast who'd escorted her reached for her cuffs.

  "What? You don't think I'll try to hijack the transport?” Vana asked sarcastically.

  He paused, stared at her—and left them on.

  She shot him a look of disgust and let herself be herded onto the transport. They placed her alone on a bench seat, presumably so she couldn't cause more trouble. More nervous than she cared to admit, she turned to stare out the transport window.

  Fear skipped along her veins, making her shiver as they entered the city gates. Spires and domes passed by, reminding her just how far from home they were. God, I want this to be a dream, she prayed, but this is far too real.

  Chapter 2

  "You can't leave her chained forever,” Dagon's friend Ser said quietly, using the private link built inside their helmets to speak to Dagon alone. His expression was hidden behind his helmet, but Dagon knew that chiding tone well.

  Dagon sent him a dark look, also hidden behind his gleaming helmet. Their generation had grown so accustomed to battle and surprise attacks that they felt naked without their armor. No one willingly removed it in public.

  "I hadn't intended to. We will reach the Bride House soon. I will free her when we offload the others.” The Bride House was heavily guarded and in the center of the city. There would be plenty of men on hand to make her behave.

  He wouldn't have thought she'd turn into such a cunning ball of fire. Everything about her had screamed ‘introvert’ and ‘desperate hope'. Or maybe he'd mistaken her shyness for a lack of courage. Her swift metamorphosis had been a nasty shock. Were all Earth women like that? He sent a quick look around, just in case.

  Though Ser had told him the woman's plan to end the standoff, he could hardly credit it. For all he knew, she'd planned to use her hostage to affect her own escape. Maybe she had lost her nerve at the end and given it up as hopeless. Maybe not. Whichever it was, he planned to keep a sharp eye on her until she was married off. They didn't need a repeat of that morning's performance.

  Ser's helmet was turned toward the blonde woman that Vana had held captive. “They are very different from our women."

  "Women are women,” Dagon said dismissively.

  "I think not. I had time to talk with the gold haired one, Jen, when I transported her to the ‘academy'.” He paused. Talking with a woman was a rare thing. It was obvious from Ser's tone that he'd found it quite an experience. “She has a keen sense of humor, and she kept looking at me when she thought I wouldn't notice.” He sounded smug.

  Amused, Dagon grinned. Ser had always been a romantic. “Be careful. If she's anything like her friend, you could have a firebrand on your hands."

  Ser remained silent, probably thinking that truth over.

  The spiraled towers of the Bride House came into view, and the transport slowed down as the shields were lowered to let them through. Nothing was being left to chance with the precious cargo.

  The ‘precious cargo’ gave her captor a dirty look as he removed her cuffs. Unease prickled her skin as he remained beside her on the way down the ramp. Twin women carved of stone, implausibly tall, held the entrance door's capstone above their heads. A whisper of carved silk swathed their bodies, doing very little to disguise their nipples. She could see the dip of their belly buttons, for pity's sake!

  Of course Vana's sudden fascination with art was more a way of dealing with her growing fear than a study of alien sculpture. Her breathing became harsher the deeper they moved into the building.

  As if sensing the fear radiating from her, the warrior next to her looked at her. As if by magic, his helmet slid back into the collar of his body armor, leaving his face exposed.

  "Dagon!” She hadn't realized he'd switched places with the other man. They all looked alike in their armor. Even more disturbing was the long, silver scar on his cheek. Perfectly smooth and covering most of the left side of his face, it hadn't been the
re before. Though it looked more like paint than healed skin, somehow she knew it wasn't cosmetic. At some time, someone had hurt him badly.

  She shivered.

  He regarded her through lowered lids. “No man here is going to harm you, adajah. You are far too precious to my people to abuse.” His eyes moved to the triple file of women moving across the sunlit, pink marble floor, silently including them in his statement.

  Massive white marble columns carved with twining vines and flowers soared to the arched ceiling. Skylights let in light and warmth, providing the perfect environment for the brightly plumed, long tailed birds which flitted about overhead. Potted plants perfumed the air with their delicate blossoms.

  Had she not been a virtual prisoner, Vana would have appreciated the place more.

  They were escorted into a large, circular room strewn with carved benches upholstered in geometric tapestry. The men waited until the women were seated, then ranged themselves around the perimeter of the room. Dagon stood on a dais before the long windows.

  "My name is Dagon,” he said. His words didn't quite match the moving of his lips. For the first time she realized that she'd always heard a faint, almost whispered echo whenever he spoke. She'd put it down to his accent, but now she wondered....

  "We are using translators to communicate, as our languages are very different. Our needs, however, are much like that of your Earth men."

  The women rustled with a ripple of fear. Vana tensed.

  "We need wives,” Dagon went on, his ice blue eyes taking in their action, but revealing none of his thoughts. “You were chosen because you have no families, no one who will miss you. We also have no families. Our women are unable to produce female offspring, a result of an engineered virus wrought by our enemies, the Dark Ones.” His eyes glittered with the first glimpse of emotion—hatred. “You will be given everything you need during your adjustment phase. Our men will court you, selecting wives for themselves. You will have some say in the matter, but be aware—you will choose a man.” While the women still reeled with shock, he gestured. Two elder women came forward and joined him on the platform. “This is Ellyn and Adibi, two of our few surviving women. They will act as your counselors and teachers. That is all.” With that abrupt statement, he and all the men filed out of the room.

  The moment he was gone, a buzz of frantic whispers began.

  Ellyn stared after his retreating back. “I see we will have to work on his reassuring skills,” she said drolly. Her pale eyes moved over the crowd of frightened women. By the light streaks in her black locks, she must have been on the far end of forty, or perhaps a well-preserved early fifty. “You see what happens when a generation of men is raised without a woman's gentle hand. Our words carry great weight, but there have not been enough of us to soften their hearts. You have the power to change this."

  "No one is going to harm you,” Adibi, the smaller of the two women, said quickly. She was dressed in a gown of muted colors, unlike Ellyn's bright lavender and pink robes. “We are all hoping for happy matches, and Ellyn and I have been chosen to be your counselors in this matter. Both of us enjoy harmonious marriages, and hope to guide you into making good choices. After all, your match is to be for life.” She beamed.

  Vana scowled, not in the least pleased. Happily married to an abrupt man like Dagon? Ha! Then she caught sight of a huddled girl who couldn't have been more than sixteen. A quick glance around showed more like her. Her blood boiled.

  "Are you so desperate that you have to marry children?” she snapped at Ellyn, indicating the girl with a jerk of her head. “Where we come from that's not legal."

  Ellyn sighed as if put upon. “Our customs are different here. We most certainly match up girls of her age. She is physically mature, and even in your culture young women of her age are known to take lovers. Besides, it is very difficult to find women in your “United States” who have not known men.” Her mouth tightened a fraction. “We do not approve of promiscuous intercourse here."

  A dreadful suspicion bloomed in Vana's mind. “How would you know who has and hasn't...?” she trailed off, too nervous to outright say it.

  With a kind smile, Ellyn said, “Our men are very resourceful. I'm told they tracked down each woman and observed her, doing remote medical scans to check for health and ... other things. You would not be here if you were not pure, believe me."

  Face burning, Vana looked away. That was not the sort of information she wanted to be public knowledge.

  "Now, let me show you to your sleeping places and help you get settled. We'll have a meal soon, and then you'll have a chance to get to know your future husbands."

  Oh, joy, Vana thought grimly.

  Their rooms were actually curtained and screened off sections of the larger chamber. The gel-filled beds were thermostatically controlled, allowing the sleeper to adjust the temperature and density for their comfort. Each woman was given grooming supplies and urged to choose from a colorful array of dresses, sarongs and alluring tops.

  Vana balked. No way did she want to dress up like some virginal, sacrificial harem girl. “I'm quite comfortable in my own clothes, thank you,” she said firmly to Ellyn. At least her jeans and sweater hid her belly button, which was more than she could say for most of the clothes they were offered. And even if they were hot, at least they were familiar.

  The older woman considered her calmly. “What will you do when your clothes become ragged and worn? You have only the one set. Besides, your rebellion would gain Dagon's notice. He might feel the need to compel your obedience—personally."

  The subtle threat did its dirty work. With a glower, Vana chose some clothes and retreated to her ‘room’ to change.

  The wrap-around skirt was gorgeous. Black silk with gold fringe hugged her legs from waist to ankle in loving detail, allowing just a glimpse of sandal-clad feet. Also of black silk, the sleeveless halter top with hidden support was attached to a golden embroidered, choker-like collar. The top ended inches above her skirt, allowing for an enticing glimpse of skin.

  She didn't like how exposed it made her feel. She liked it even less when she entered the dinner hall and saw how the men looked at the women. Suddenly she felt like filet mignon at an all-you-can-eat buffet.

  There were many tables scattered throughout the huge banquet room, so she was surprised when Ellyn personally escorted her to Dagon's table. His enquiring look as she climbed the dais told her that it had not been at his request.

  "I think you should keep a close eye on this one,” Ellyn said firmly, seating her in the empty place on Dagon's right. Throughout the hall women were being paired with men. “I do not trust her not to escape during the banquet and get captured by Nikon. She's just the sort he would fancy."

  Vana sent her a look. If only she knew.

  Dagon's eyes moved leisurely over Vana's long, loose hair and subtle makeup—Ellyn had insisted on cosmetics, and had done Vana's herself—then dropped briefly to take in the rest of her. With a gleam in his eyes, he murmured, “I can think of more difficult hardships."

  Eyes narrowed, Vana looked away, over the heads of those at Dagon's table.

  "So you are Dagon's warrior woman,” the handsome, dark-haired man seated across from her drawled. “I've heard all about you. My name is Ser. It's a delight to meet you, Vana."

  Not trusting herself to say anything civil, Vana acknowledged him with a curt nod. The blonde head at his side caught her eye, making her eyes widen. Now there was someone she needed to speak to.

  "I'm sorry if I scared you earlier,” she said quietly to the petite woman. “I didn't want us to get hurt in a war between ... them,” she concluded, her voice dropping an angry octave on the last word. “Name's Vana."

  With a stiff nod of her own, the woman showed her agreement. “My name is Jennifer—Jen.” That seemed to be all she had to say.

  The high table was served. Reluctantly, Vana chose from the array of dishes being passed around, and then stared at her plate. The four basic foo
d groups, in an unfamiliar but tantalizingly scented array, stared back at her. It looked good. Her mouth watered.

  "Is there a problem?” Dagon inquired.

  "I'm trying to decide if this is going to agree with me. I've never had alien food before."

  A half smile curved his lips as he watched her working up the nerve to try a bite.

  Swallowing hard, she speared a quail sized stuffed egg with what looked like a long, skinny hair pick and nibbled a cautious bite. It was ... odd. Rather reminded her of pickled herring and egg yolk.

  Still hungry, she scraped the thing off her pick and stabbed a cube of green vegetable and tried it. Bewildered, she moved the pick away and examined the nibbled cube as she chewed. It tasted like honey-mustard potatoes, heavy on the mustard. Her eyes watered. A sip of the water helped, fortifying her for the rest of the dinner.

  Fortunately, she did find some items she liked. The meats were all very good, tender and perfectly spiced. Most of the vegetables were exceptional, as well as the grain dishes and breads.

  The only sticky point came during dessert. The servers cleared away the remains of the meal, and then brought out platters of enticing looking layered desserts, confections and sweets. A plate was placed between each pair of diners.

  "It is customary for the man and woman to feed each other,” Dagon said with a faintly challenging smile.

  Vana eyed the plate, then him.

  "And it's grossly rude not to at least try the desserts,” he added in warning. “Our chefs are temperamental. They've been known to poison those who scorn their cooking."

  She raised a skeptical brow, but reluctantly allowed him to feed her a bite of a brown, creamy dessert.

  Her eyes widened in surprise. It was ... mmm! As rich as cream, complex as roast hazelnut and as addictive as chocolate. Her eyes drooped shut, and she actually purred.

  Fascinated, Dagon watched her intently. Chills broke out on his skin as she moaned low in her throat. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, and suddenly the room ran short of air.