Extinction had already sunk its teeth into the living things of this land. The only question was if it was to be a quick or slow process.
Chapter Seventeen
The tendrils wrapped around Cole’s insides changed the experience of teleportation into something that left him dizzy. Mystic natural forces tugged at his clothes, pulled at his skin, and drew him forward like a massive intake of breath. Not only did he feel like he was falling from one temple to another, but it seemed as if something was shoving him forward even faster than anything as commonplace as inertia. The sounds he heard didn’t just assault his ears. The pulsing rhythms invaded his skull, slid against the back of his tongue and extended probing fingers beneath his clothes and rib cage to stroke his heart until his next breaths welled up and finally exploded outward into . . .
“What in the
He had to shout because that was the only way to be heard over the driving beats coming from no fewer than ten towers of speakers situated strategically around the perimeter of a cavernous room. Soon, Paige staggered through the curtain as well, to grab her ears and wince.
Theirs was one of a dozen curtains, each at the edge of a large stage teeming with dancers of all shapes, sizes, colors, and states of undress. When Cole looked around at them, all of the dancers’ bodies congealed into a writhing mass of smooth, glittering flesh. There were definitely several bodies on all the stages, and he knew they weren’t combined into a single entity, but between all the writhing arms, strutting legs, and twirling hair, his eyes simply didn’t know where to start.
“I think we got fried in transit,” he said to anyone within earshot. “Because if this isn’t heaven, then I don’t want to know what is.”
Normally, when Cole felt the Dryad influence tugging at every Y chromosome in his body, he looked to Paige for support or at least a swift knock upside his head. This time even she was speechless as they were approached by a group of four girls dressed in nothing but ankle bracelets and streaks of metallic paint applied expertly to make it seem as if their skin had flaked away to reveal solid gold chassis. These women may not have been robots, but they were anything but human.
One of the dancers, a thin Hispanic nymph with a narrow upper body and perfectly rounded hips, smiled and said, “Oh my. Looks like Taylor wasn’t kidding. The new guy’s cute. Think you can keep him under control?”
“To be honest,” Cole said, “I doubt if I’ll be able to keep myself under control.”
The other three dancers consisted of a taller woman with coffee-colored skin and a full, generous figure; a petite young blonde; and a more mature blonde who seemed to have stepped out of the pages of
Cole followed the tallest nymph toward a corner at the back of the room. It was tough taking his eyes from the swaying perfection of the Hispanic nymph’s backside, but there was plenty more to catch his attention. Women climbed poles that stretched down from the heights of a cathedral ceiling, or they crawled along horizontal bars without the slightest lapse in balance. The entire latticework glowed with colors that shot through the structure to illuminate it like pipes filled with blue and green luminescent water. Three cocktail bars were worked by six tenders, all of whom were human women, still gorgeous despite the supernatural competition around them. They smiled at the Skinners who passed, not seeming to notice the weapons strapped to their bodies or the gear they carried.
“Where the hell are we?” Cole asked.
The tall Hispanic Dryad pivoted toward him, which did nothing to break the line of her stride. “Didn’t Taylor tell you?”
“She said something about a hub.”
“There you go,” she replied with a flourishing wave toward a sign hanging above a towering wine rack made of gnarled wood. The sign looked to have been pulled from a vein of ore and crudely bent into two words: THE HUB. It was spelled out in smooth, yet rugged letters accentuated by the curving glyphs Cole had come to know as Dryad script. Now that he’d seen those markings, more of the symbols could be found etched into the walls, floor, and pillars stretching up past the poles from which several nymphs swung or twirled. If he could see the ceiling through the bank of milling steam hanging like a smoky layer of clouds, he guessed there would be markings on it as well.
Now that the smaller Hispanic nymph was closer, Cole couldn’t tell if she might actually have a Middle Eastern background. The more he looked at her, the more he wanted to learn. Being an expert in every sort of worshipping stare, she took his hand, shook it and said, “I’m Marissa. I know you’re probably a little dizzy right now, so just keep your eyes on me and we’ll take you to somewhere you can think straight.”
Since his eyes were already glued to Marissa’s swaying hips, Waggoner said, “That ain’t a problem, sweet thing.” Three of the nymphs pretended to think that was funny, as the tallest of the group cut a path through the crowd. When Waggoner was distracted from where he was walking, the younger blond nymph placed a hand on his back and kept him from walking straight into a group of businessmen. “What should I call you, honey?” he asked.
“Alyssa,” the blonde said with a smile.
The Hub was massive. Even more impressive was the amount of business it was doing. As far as Cole could tell, nearly all of the seats were filled, every stage was working to capacity, and there was plenty going on in the VIP lounges alongside the main room. The place was even big enough to have more than one climate. As he and the others were led toward the back, the air became cooler and the thumping bass lines of the music gave way to softer jazz tracks played from speakers embedded in the walls and ceiling of an insulated room.
“This is one of our private suites,” the taller Hispanic nymph said as she turned around and extended both hands to encompass the space around her. Generous curves tested the limits of her flimsy outfit and a wide smile put the Skinners at ease. The room felt like a plush cave that was insulated well enough to keep all but the lowest bass lines from seeping in. Dark red velvet lined the walls, and tastefully subdued carpeting muffled all footsteps into soft, whispering impacts. There was barely enough space for the Skinners to stand without crowding each other or bumping their shins against low, sumptuously overstuffed couches along both sides of the room. Another door, outlined in dimly glowing green neon, was at the opposite wall.
“I’m Lexi,” the tall Hispanic beauty said. “If there’s anything you need, just ask for me.”
“What we need is to get to Hungary,” Paige said.
“It’s being arranged,” Lexi replied. “Wait here and make yourselves comfortable.”
“I thought the arrangements were already made. We’re on a schedule here.”
“You’re also on our ground, Skinner,” Lexi said. “Mind your manners or we’ll mind them for you.”
Temporarily stunned by the tone in her voice, Cole moved toward the group of nymphs. He was immediately cut short by armed men who’d swarmed into the room from behind the other three girls. Although dressed in windbreakers bearing the Hub’s logo, they carried assault rifles rivaling the ordnance carried by the IRD.
“What the hell?” Paige said. “When did this shit start?”
The other blonde moved forward to directly challenge Paige. A gold one-piece swimsuit wrapped around her as if painted on by a narrow roller that had been placed on one shoulder then moved across her large breasts and over her stomach to barely cover her below the waist. Despite the lack of clothing, her eyes gleamed even brighter than the necklace that spelled the word STARR in gold letters. “It started when you took advantage of our gratitude by corrupting one of our most beloved sisters!”
“You must have us mixed up with someone else,” Cole said.
“No,” said a woman who eased past the armed men as if they were just another pair of slack-jawed customers. “They know exactly who you are, but their anger may be somewhat misdirected.”
Then Tristan, one of the leading members of the Dryad sisterhood, stepped into the room. She moved gracefully on high heels and wore her flowing chestnut hair loose over both shoulders. A flawless body sculpted from skin that begged to be caressed was wrapped in a relatively modest purple dress that gleamed like water hugging her breasts and hips to flow freely across her torso and legs. Something about her wasn’t the same,
