Dream frowned. “Something’s happening.”
The Master stood with his forearms balanced against the balcony railing. He looked just as he had the last time Dream had seen him, and she understood that what she was seeing was part illusion. He had a chameleonic ability to shift his appearance at will-it was one of the traits of his race-and he’d chosen to present himself the way she remembered him. He was handsome, with fine, chiseled features, and a muscular body with a deep tan. The same thick, broad shoulders that had so turned her on the first time. The same intense, passionate eyes. The strength, confidence, and poise he’d possessed in such abundance was still there too, perhaps even to a greater degree than before.
Because something serious was definitely happening somewhere in the house and he didn’t seem the least perturbed by it. Dream heard more explosions and a rapid, snapping sound she assumed was automatic gunfire.
Still looking at the red sky of the alien world beyond the balcony, he said, “Do you know what this place is, Dream? That world out there?”
She frowned again. “No, but-”
He stood erect and turned toward her, took her gently into his arms. She shuddered and slid with a sigh into the embrace. He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head. “That red-sky world is where my kind originated. Our race thrived there for many thousands of years. Then some ravaging disease blighted it and the survivors took to the stars in silver ships.” He glanced over her shoulder at the barren landscape beyond Razor City. “It is still a dead world, all of my kind are long perished, but for some reason it calls to me. See that pyramid in the distance?”
Dream looked at it. “That’s new, isn’t it? Or relatively new. The slaves were working on it for a long time before I got here.”
The Master nodded. “New, yes. However, it is being built according to ancient specifications. When finished, it will be a precise replica of the pyramids my ancestors used as holy temples. I believe Evelyn intended to eventually use it in an attempt to resurrect my mortal form.”
Confusion creased Dream’s brow. “Evelyn?”
“You knew her as Ms. Wickman.”
Dream stiffened slightly. “Oh.”
Dream stiffened slightly. “Oh.”
“Of course, she had no way of knowing how close I was to achieving that goal on my own.” His smile this time had a rueful quality. “It isn’t easy to send information through the veil separating the mortal world and the various afterlife dimensions. Even those skilled in such things frequently get it wrong. Poor Giselle, for instance.”
Dream shivered and turned her head against his chest again. “What will happen to her?”
“Those sounds you’re hearing? The approach of invaders. They have come for her.” He lifted her head from his chest and stared into her eyes. “And they will have her.”
Dream felt a fresh sense of alarm. It had been so easy to allow herself to be hypnotized by the sound of his voice, to slip into a cocoon of comfort while wrapped in his arms. She pushed away from him a little and said, “Shouldn’t we be doing something? They’re coming here.” She nodded at the open French doors. “She’s in there, in that nasty chamber on the other side of that wall.”
He smiled and stroked her hair again. “We will do nothing.”
Her eyes gleamed with sudden fright. “Why?”
His smile remained unwavering. “We are in no danger. We could repel the invaders, if we so chose. You are strong enough to do it on your own, in fact. But we will not do this. They will take Giselle and de part this place, never to trouble us again. Then we will rebuild this kingdom, perhaps even expand our presence in the land of my ancestors. And we will reign as king and queen for a thousand years.”
Dream laughed. “A
“Yes. It is part of the bargain I made with the death gods.”
Dream stopped laughing. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
The Master shook his head. “I am not.”
Dream shivered. It was a strange thing to contemplate. Suicidal impulses had plagued so much of her younger years, and now she was looking at a potential lifetime stretching across centuries. The concept was initially jarring, but the more she thought about it-and the more she stared into her lover’s intense eyes-the more right it felt.
She smiled and touched his face. “Okay.”
He took one of her hands in his, kissed the back of it. “I love you, Dream.”
She tugged at the sash around her bathrobe and pulled open the flaps, exposing the front of her body.
Her breasts were pale in the alien sunlight. The sound of the gunfire was growing louder as she said, “Come fuck me.”
The Master smiled again.
And did as his Queen bade.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Marcy was in the bathroom with her sister. Ellen was perched on the toilet, with her jeans down around her ankles. Marcy knelt in front of her and coaxed her sister with words she almost certainly didn’t understand. Hygiene was a big problem for Ellen. It had been hard to get her to understand that she couldn’t just squat and shit on the floor any time she felt the urge to go. Nor had it been easy to instruct her on proper use of the toilet. You had to watch for signs indicating she was on the verge of needing to take a dump. She would get restless and start pacing about their room, panting and whimpering like a dog in need of going outside. In fact, the process had been very similar to potty-training an animal.
Ellen whimpered again. “Muhmuh…muh-”
Marcy sighed. “Come on Ellen. Squeeze. You can do it.”
“Muh…muh-”Tears of frustration welled in Ellen’s eyes. “Muh-”
“Oh, the hell with it.”
“Oh, the hell with it.”
Marcy stood and extended a hand to her sister, who accepted it with dumb gratitude, a drool-flecked smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Ellen stood, and Marcy helped her get her jeans tugged back up and snapped shut. They had just reentered the bedroom when Marcy heard the faint sound of something she needed a moment to recognize as heavy metal music.
She frowned.
It was the first time she’d heard recorded music of any sort since arriving at this place. Though the music was muffled, she had a sense that it was coming from somewhere outside the house. She was moving toward the bedroom door to investigate when the boom of the first explosion sent a hot spike of fear through her heart, freezing her hand on the doorknob. The sound was massive and the concussion seemed to rattle the whole house. It was followed immediately by more explosions, just as big and loud, which was followed by the stuttering sound of gunfire. Ellen screamed and threw herself against Marcy, jarring her hand away from the doorknob. Her hands clawed and scrabbled against Marcy’s clothes as she mewled inarticulately. Marcy shoved her away, sent her tumbling to the floor. Ellen landed on her ass and let out a pained squeal. The sound ripped at Marcy’s heart, but the panic engulfing her was too immense to allow any room for coddling her simpleton sister. She had to figure out something to do, and fast, before whatever was happening downstairs got any closer.
Then she had it. The only answer possible.
“Upstairs.” She looked at Ellen. “Get your ass up. We’re going upstairs.
She hurried over to the nightstand beside the bed, yanked the drawer open, and pulled out her Glock. She checked the magazine. Full. She popped it ba ck in and turned around in time to see her sister moving toward the door. Ellen’s hands fumbled with the doorknob for a moment before seizing it. A burst of adrenaline sent Marcy dashing back across the room.
The door came open and the sound of gunfire grew abruptly louder. Screams and confused shouts echoed down the hallway.
Ellen stepped into the chaos and Marcy followed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The straight razor felt good in her hands, like it belonged there. Alicia flicked it open and moved to the head of the bed, where she stared down into the wide eyes of the girl tied to the headboard. She was a young thing, slim and blonde, with a cute face and a nice figure. The ball gag affixed to her mouth and face enhanced her prettiness in a perverse way, emphasizing her youth and vulnerability.
Alicia sat next to her and pushed sweat-soaked strands of blonde hair away from the girl’s forehead. The girl shivered at Alicia’s touch.
Alicia smiled. “Once upon a time, girl, I was in your place. Tied up for no good reason other than the pure hell of it. A damn shame, ain’t it? That there are people in this rotten world who get their kicks this way?”
Tears welled in the girl’s eyes and spilled down her flushed cheeks.
Alicia wiped the tears away and licked them off her fingers. “Mmm. Anyway…as I was saying, it’s a shame there are people like me in the world.” She laughed and placed the blade flat against the girl’s white belly. “A shame for you, anyway.”
She pressed the blade into the girl’s flesh, penetrating just slightly, perhaps an eighth of an inch, and drew a red line all the way down to her hip. It wasn’t a mortal wound by any means, but the girl squealed and rocked against her restraints. Then she was panting in agony behind the ball gag. Her whole face was red and Alicia wondered whether it was possible to scare a person this young enough to induce a heart attack. It didn’t seem likely, but she supposed it was possible. It would be
