15 Targeted (34 page)

“What do you mean, mostly?” Y asked sternly.

The old female frowned. “Well, she’s a
Khalla,
so she tis. You can put suggestions into a
Khalla’s
mind but they don’t always stick. Still, I did my best and so I did. And I have the lock of hair to help when it comes to it.”

“
As good as we’re going to get, I suppose,”
Master Two sighed in Y’s head.
“Very well. Tell her to take the girl someplace else. Someplace…dangerous. Let that fool of an assassin find know exactly how much he cares for her when he realizes what peril she’s in.”

“She must go someplace dangerous,” Y said aloud to the witch. “Where is the most dangerous place on this planet?”

The witch raised her grizzled eyebrows.

“For an unmated female in heat? The
Howland
that would be. Full of Wulven males closer to their change, so it tis. Of course the chafing shaft will mask her scent some but they’ll find her right enough if she’s put in the middle of them.”

“
Perfect!”
The Master’s voice was positively gleeful.
“Send her there! The Verrak’s pain will be unimaginable when he finds her after the other males have their way with his precious Khalla!”

Y felt a twinge of disgust and some other emotion he could not name when he thought of what the little female would endure.

“Master,” he sub-vocalized. “I still do not understand this—I thought you wanted her dead. Aren’t you taking a chance—even a slim one—that the
Verrak
will get to her in time and she won’t die?”

“
I am counting on him getting to her, you fool!”
the Master snapped.
“If he’s too late to save her from being ravaged, so much the better. But even if he finds her before that happens, he will know how much he truly cares for her…and his emotions towards her will grow exponentially.”

“But her death—”

“
Will come all in good time. The devices this old crone fitted her with will cause no end of pain and trouble and despair. And even if those fail, there is still the suggestion I had her plant in the female’s mind. She will die, either sooner or later and the Verrak will die with her…or another member of his order will finish him off after she is gone. But first he will know how much he cares for her and that he has lost her irrevocably. Which will be
extremely
entertaining.”
He gave a mental yawn.
“Which is a good thing. Riding around in your head unable to do anything is most dreadfully boring! I must see to that eventually…”

“Are you ever going to stop muttering to yourself long enough to tell me what to do with the girl?” the witch demanded, frowning at Y. “Even now her male will be looking for her—yes he twill!”

Y felt another twinge as he looked at the Earth girl, still frozen in place. But the Master was to be obeyed, always and forever.

“Fine,” he said stolidly. “Take her to the
Howlund.”

“
Take
her?” The witch looked at him as if he was mad. “I’ll not do that, no I won’t! Grandy See-er can’t expose herself that way—I’ll have to put a scent-blocker spell around my hut, so I will, to keep folks from suspecting me as it tis!”

“She must get there somehow,” Y growled. “It is imperative!”

“Well, I can’t take her…but I can
send
her.” The witch got a crafty gleam in her faded blue eyes. “She’s bespelled now—she’ll do what she’s told, so she twill!”

“Very well—do it,” Y commanded. “Send her then—and be quick.” He knew his Master wished to savor the Earth female’s pain but he just wanted to get this over with.

Chapter Sixteen

Emily blinked and found herself walking down the middle of a crowded street. No, not a street exactly—almost more of a marketplace. But not a nice, neat farmer’s market like they had at the park in South Tampa on Saturdays—more like some kind of a Middle Eastern bazaar.

The hard packed dirt road was crowded with stalls on either side and the vendors behind them were shouting their wares.

“Palla fruit—get your palla fruit! Ease the change when it comes—the palla gives you ease!”

“Collars to hold, ties to bind. Keep those you love safe—don’t change unrestrained!”

“Scent blankets—get your scent blankets here! A scent that soothes—calm the beast within.”

Emily couldn’t help noticing that all the vendors were male…and then she noticed that all the customers were male too. They were all huge men—as big as Tragar at least—and they all seemed to have bright blue eyes—eyes that glowed when they looked at her.

And more and more of them were looking. Why were they staring at her? For that matter, how had she gotten here in the first place? The last thing she remembered was sitting in the shuttle, feeling bored and wondering how much longer Tragar was going to take. And now…this.

“Where am I? What am I doing here?” Emily muttered to herself. Looking down, she saw she was walking down the dusty road barefoot and she had on only her old blue nightgown which someone had cut holes in.

Wait—that was me. I cut holes in it, didn’t I?
But why had she done that?

A closer look answered the question. Her nipples were poking out of the two ragged holes in the silky blue material but they were covered in little silver caps with golden metallic tassels hanging off them. The blue sunlight flashed off them, making it look like her breasts were tipped with fire.

Emily frowned. Well,
this
didn’t seem right. What was she doing, walking down the middle of a busy street filled with strange men wearing nothing but a thin nighty with her nipples poking out? Why was she…?

Abruptly, the daze she’d been in lifted and she gasped in horror. Oh God, she was walking half naked down a street filled with strange men!
Huge,
strange men…huge, strange men who were
looking
at her with lust in their eyes!

It was like every nightmare she’d ever had in her life—every dream of walking through the middle of high school naked—only this time it was real. And from the way the men were beginning to look at her and sniff the air, she was about to be in real trouble if she didn’t get out of there,
fast
.

The only problem was, she had no idea how she’d gotten there in the first place. And no idea how to get away.

* * * * *

“Where is she? The scent ends here!” Tragar walked in a circle, sniffing the air with increasing desperation. They were deep in the forest and Emily’s scent , so strong just a moment ago, was suddenly gone. “Where
is
she?” he repeated. “How can she have just disappeared?”

“Just because her scent disappeared doesn’t mean she did.” Xen’dex sounded grim. “I can still smell the witch—she must have covered your
Khalla’s
scent but she didn’t bother to hide her own. Come on—this way.”

He led the way deeper into the woods and Tragar followed. He was looking alertly as he went, his weapons ready, but inside his gut was churning and his heart was pounding.

Lost her…I lost her,
chanted a little voice in his head.
She’s in danger…possibly in pain or even dead all because of me—because I didn’t protect her. Because I didn’t keep her safe. Just the way I didn’t keep Jalex and Landra safe.

He tried to push the thoughts to the back of his mind but they wouldn’t go. Guilt and self-loathing filled him like a rush of dirty water, making his jaw tight and his fists clench. Gods, what had he done? How could he have left her alone in the shuttle, especially after the fight they’d had? He should never have let her out of his sight, even for a moment! She was precious…delicate…and in the middle of a change that frightened and upset her. He should never have left her, even for an instant! He should never—

“Here.” Xen’dex was pointing to a dirty little domicile that appeared to be made of mud and sticks. “The witch’s scent leads here.” He started to knock at the wooden door but Tragar was already ramming it open with his shoulder.

Inside it was dark and dank, the air filled with the bitter, dusty scent of dried poison-plants and mold. An old Wulven female with stringy gray hair and a hooked nose was hunched over a cluttered table, counting golden credit coins. She jerked when the door crashed open, her faded blue eyes wide and startled.

“Where is she?” Tragar demanded, striding forward. “What have you done with Emily?”

“What? Grandy See-er doesn’t know what you mean, my Lord!” the old female protested, scrambling to get the golden coins back into a bag with her long, dirty claws.

“Tell me!” Thrace growled, glaring at her. He lifted his head to sniff and nearly retched at the foul odors. Under the dried poison plants and mold was the sharp reek of urine and the smell of an unwashed animal. A sound down by his boots led him to the source of that particular odor—a segmented beast with glowing eyes which was plainly some kind of a pet was hissing at him.

But under all the stench of the cabin—and the rank smell of the unwashed witch which was also none too pleasant—Thrace thought he could catch just a whiff of Emily’s sweetness. She had to be here somewhere—she
had
to!

“My Lord, please,” the old female wheedled. “I have no one here—no one but my sweet Tatum.” She picked up the hissing animal and stroked its round body segments. “Hush now, Tatum, everything’s well, so it ‘tis.”

“No, it’s not.” Xen’dex stepped up, scowling at her. “Grandy See-er—I might have known you’d be behind this. Anything for a credit, eh? Tell me—what did you do to earn that bag of credit coins you were counting when we came in?”

The faded blue eyes took on a frightened, crafty expression and her cracked voice became suddenly soft and soothing.

“Why, my Lord Xen’dex, how nice to see you. Tis a lovely day for a visit, so it tis. And you don’t want to bother me, do you? You just came to say hello—sure and you did.”

“Your voice tricks won’t work on me, witch,” Xen’dex growled. “Tell us what you’ve done with the young female you found out in the shuttle.”

“A young female?” The faded eyes brightened. “Why now that you mention it, I
did
meet some such, so I did, as I was on my way back from market. I sold much of my best medicine and made a tidy sum—that’s where the coins came from.”

Tragar paid her no more attention—he was already searching her domicile. Besides the cluttered main room, there was a sleeping area which consisted of a grubby pallet on the floor, strewn untidily with dirty blankets, and a cooking area with a blackened heat-flat in one corner.

On the grease smeared flat was a pot filled with some dark green sludge that made him gag when he sniffed it. There was a bark cup half full of the stuff beside it. He picked it up and looked at it. Then for some reason, he sniffed it again. Under the foul odor was something else—something familiar. It was another faint whiff of Emily’s scent.

She held this cup—possibly drank from it! But what in the Seven Hells is this stuff that she drank?

Tragar carried it into the main area where Xen’dex was still questioning the witch.

“What is this?” he demanded, thrusting the cup in front of her. “I can tell Emily held it—what did you give her? What did it do to her? Where is she?”

For the first time, the old female began to look really scared.

“That’s just my medicine, so it tis!” she protested, backing away.