“You've wronged the Godhunter?” Gish asked. “Listen to yourself; you're talking crazy.”
“Listen to yourself,” Qaus countered. “You want to continue to persecute an enemy who was never our enemy, to begin with, simply because you don't want to admit to being wrong. Those are the motivations of a weak man.”
“I'm not wrong or weak,” he snarled. “I was following you. If any of us were wrong, it was you.”
“Fine, Gish.” Qaus held up his hands. “I was wrong. Now, shouldn't we focus our efforts on something more worthwhile?”
“You spent five years planning this!”
“I wasted five years.” Qaus sighed. “Damn. All for a broken prophecy foretelling a future that will never come. I'm sorry that my plotting has brought you to this end, Godhunter.”
“Call me Vervain,” I said as I held out a hand. “And this isn't my end; far from it. Peace between us, Qaus?”
“Peace.” Qaus smiled and shook my hand. “For now, at least.”
“The fuck with this!” Gish lunged forward.
Chapter Forty
The pool in the center of our seats spewed up a wall of water between Gish and me, but he disappeared before he could reach the barrier. I relaxed out of my defensive position as the water fell back into the pool, and then I noticed that Qaus was gone too.
“You sent them both away?” I asked in surprise.
“I didn't like what either of them was saying,” Narcissus murmured as he stared at me thoughtfully. “I don't think I shall let any of those three into my territory again. I've got what I want now, anyway; my freedom and you.”
“Narcissus, why are you doing this?”
“Power and love?” He shrugged.
“Love of power more like.”
“You don't think I'm capable of love?” Narcissus asked as he moved onto the loveseat beside me and took my hand.
“Self-love,” I said warily.
“Isn't love of the self a foundation for all other love?”
“Sure; if you have the materials to build on it.”
“I think I'm falling in love with you, Vervain,” he whispered and then leaned forward as if to kiss me.
“Back up, Psycho Killer.” I pushed him away. “I'm still not interested.”
Narcissus roared as he stood and then kicked one of the couches across the room. He loomed over me and then backhanded me into the wall. As I shook off the blow, he tromped over to me with fury in his eyes. I scrambled to my feet and faced off with him, but his stare lowered to my belly. Cold fear shot through me as he smiled wickedly.
Narcissus balled up his fist and pulled it back. “I think you're about to become far more accommodating, dearest. If not, your little bundle of joy will feel my wrath.”
“You fucking, psychotic, zombie motherfucker!” I hissed. “You touch my child and will fucking gut you!”
Narcissus laughed cruelly. “I don't have the restriction the Mirror did. I can kill your baby without laying a hand on you.” He lowered his fist. “One thought, and I could sever a limb... or his head.”
I went still.
“Now, I'm going to escort you to your room.” He held out an arm to me, and I trembled as I took it. “And you are going to bathe and primp yourself until you're perfect.”
Narcissus started leading me down the maze of hallways. Unlike the Mirror's world, these corridors didn't shift from reflective mist into substantial matter; they remained solid. I would have been reassured by this if there hadn't been an unsettling abundance of mirrors hung on the walls. Oh, yeah; and if I wasn't on my way to get dolled up for my date with a serial killer narcissist.
“I shall return for you when I have everything ready for our liaison. Don't fret, dearest, you will enjoy it. I have had years to perfect my performance, as you've already seen.” Narcissus opened the bedroom door and gently nudged me in. I turned to stare at him warily.
“Put that on after you bathe. I'll be back soon.” He pointed at a crimson dress, draped over the bed like a fresh spill of blood.
Why do villains love to dress me in red?
The door shut, and I had to stop myself from screaming.
Chapter Forty-One
“Every gods-damned time!” I snarled. “Can't I have one single pregnancy go by without someone threatening my baby?”
I was shaking with fury and fear. The last thing I would do was be more accommodating to that piece of murdering filth. But I couldn't let him hurt Vero either. Inside me, my son stirred as if he could hear my thoughts.
With my other pregnancies, my children had been very active and had communicated with me through our bonds. Vero, however, had been silent. I could feel him there and sense our bond, but he was content to just concentrate on growing and let me handle the rest. He was a lot like his father in that regard. Except now, he was making his feelings known.
Vero wanted me to fight.
Of course, he did. From the brief time I'd been given with him in the future, I'd learned that he was the most like me out of all of my children. Vero would sooner have the both of us beaten to a pulp than have his mother lay down and peacefully spread her legs for an enemy. Even as a growing baby, he could sense the horror of that.
“All right, baby Honey-Eyes,” I said. “We'll fight. We may not have a lot available to us in the way of weapons, but we'll do what we can. I just wish I had my fighting gear. It's easier to be strong in leather than gingham.”
Just as I was smacking at the gingham dress despondently, it disappeared and my old fighting leathers were suddenly on my body. I gasped and looked down at the black vest—a little snug around the waist—and my worn pants; exact replicas of my old fighting gear. I even had my boots on
