Blood Prize (12 page)

U
ta relaxed her shoulders and continued on through the shadows, checking the perimeter of the safe house. She stopped and squatted in the darkness. The buzz in her left ear acute, yet it didn’t alter her trained expression.

“My darling, Uta. What happened at Varful Pietrosu? What happened there that binds us with the curse of our blood?”

“They executed a killer.”

“Yes, but who?”

“Our glorious father, Vladimir Remus Cel Rău.”

“Yes, and …?”

“They put him to death in the shade of the Carpathians, amongst the piles of severed heads and the tortured bodies of his victims.”

“Our Vladimir. Our Remus the Decapitator. The Assembly kill any threat in the name of their God; their ambition. Never forget this, my beloved. They’re the ones that took him from us.”

“Their time draws to a close, sweet Réz. Retribution is coming.”

She raised herself and began rechecking the immediate area.

“Our last mission proved to be successful. Based on the clues we found in the broken watch, the PMSG travelled to Fox’s childhood home in the mountains, west of Sydney. That’s why I haven’t been able to contact you. The mission proved to be a success. Fox remembered a secret hiding spot and we found a locked metal box with his name engraved on it.

“Did you find it? The location …”

“No. They have to check the box for chemical traps and explosive devices before opening it. As soon as I know what’s in it, you’ll know.”

“Good. As soon as possible.”

The transmission ended.

Uta spat on the pavement as she crept through the darkness. She despised ordinary people and she detested pretending to be one. She belonged with her sister and the cardinal; amongst intellectual equals. After her communication with Réz, she felt intense anger tighten her body.

I’m Uta Cel Rău the best of the best.

Uta remained the finest of the elite SRP commandos and the most experienced of their field agents; so clever that she operated her trade for three different organisations without any of them knowing about the other.

I’m The Raptor for a damn good reason. I’m the perfect instrument of death and soon I’m going to prove it.

Frederick Vogel gave her the nickname and she detested him for it at first. He told everyone that he derived the name from a species of dinosaur called an Utahraptor. The pronunciation of the two names sounded similar so the name stuck amongst her SRP comrades. This made her furious, until she discovered the Utahraptor’s killing abilities. Their similarity intrigued her.

I’m reborn from the Cretaceous to kill.

She loved that the raptors ruled their world with violence. She began to love everything about them, especially their formidable killing weapons; the large, curving, single claws on each of their hind feet and the razor sharp teeth. They also possessed stealth and incredible speed, despite weighing up to a thousand kilograms.

Uta derived another reason for her growing attachment to the name. Utahraptor’s similarity to the fabled
Dracul
, the dragon also filled her with pride. The infamous
Dracul
, known as Vlad Ţepeş, or sometimes Vlad the Impaler, or even Dracula in the West; her own kin; her own blood.

She hated the female line of her family, often feeling matricidal. Yet her mother died years before, denying her the opportunity.

Phlegm rose into her throat and it tasted foul. It made her sick thinking about the imbecile of a mother that squeezed her out. She never understood what brought them on, but her subconscious continued to drag disjointed recollections into her conscious mind.

Bitch …

On the very day of her birth, the people of the village gathered in the town square, demanding her removal or worse. They considered her bloodline to be evil. She survived and as a tiny girl, acted like any other. Her differences emerged as a duality of traits. She could be sweet and alluring, yet in private, she loved to kill small animals and to play with their entrails. Despite this morbid behaviour, her true nature didn’t fully reveal itself until she met the priest.

Uta spent her early years in the town of Borsa in the north of Romania, near the Ukrainian border. She considered the townsfolk there to be superstitious fools, but in the end, their folklore proved to be correct. She couldn’t deny the evil in her nature.

When she reached ten years of age, the Church intervened and took her away from her mother; pretending to be afraid that the townspeople might kill her. They argued that many families still harboured revenge for her father’s murderous deeds.

The Church placed her in an orphanage, which she viewed as a prison and sweatshop for slaves. The brothers made money out of her through the day and abused her in the evenings.

Sadists and rapists.

She detested her incarceration almost as much, as she despised the brothers. She could still feel the darkness and the cold damp walls. Each day her dreams of the world tempted her and in the end, she simply walked out.

Once free, she discovered the power of her body. The men acted like pigs and smelt worse, but at least they paid for their pleasure. Uta the dirty little angel, too young to bleed, yet every woodcutter and shopkeeper’s desire.

Her mother disowned her when she reappeared in Borsa, forcing her to rely even more on her body for food and survival. She remembered making a lot of money; more than any enterprise in her village, which didn’t endear her to the local female population.

No wonder the men wanted me.

Their disgusting wives wobbled with fat and tucked their ugly tits into their pants.

Uta laughed at the thought.

She mocked these women at every opportunity; attacking any courageous enough to return her barbs with her fists, or any other makeshift weapon at her disposal.

She remembered biting a piece out of one girl’s ear; an action creating unwanted circumstances. The local policeman beat her close to death for injuring his daughter. When she recovered, he locked her in the back of a cattle truck and transported her to a foul smelling reformatory institution on the outskirts of Bucharest.

The fools couldn’t break me.

Instead of reforming her, the place served as a steel-hardening furnace.

She inflicted her first bloody murder at the orphanage.

The violence of her incarceration grasped any remaining innocence and ripped it out. Uta knew what awaited her. Capitulate no matter the cost, or be prepared to fight the worst creatures imaginable.

Uta laughed as she remembered her first day. She killed the toughest of the girls before dinner.

Lovely Lucifer … It felt so good.

She could still feel the rough handle of the knife and the power it granted her. She shivered with pleasure, just thinking about it.

Her older enemy hissed and cursed, as she attacked with her knife, but the heavier girl couldn’t match Uta for strength or viciousness. She remembered the look of astonishment in the girl’s eyes and the feeling of the knife, as it sliced into her stomach. The experience captivated her. She felt more excited than at any other time in her short life; an intoxicating taste of things to come.

Towards the end of that year, her vicious exploits came to the attention of a priest.

My beautiful man with the body of a boy and the rod of a god.              

Her obsession still drove her after all of the years. This magnificent cultured male overwhelmed her with his ruthless and terrible power. He radiated a force that held her in wonderment and commanded her complete obedience; his fiery passion burning away any chance of redemption.

She trembled, remembering her education under the priest. It began the first night and she enjoyed the beating more than anything in her life. After this experience, she disappeared into his hedonistic world of pleasure, which become the very purpose of her existence. From that day on, she serviced his will, no matter its objective, or its cost.

T
om dressed with a growing sense of excitement and bounded down the stairs.

Late the previous evening they opened the box he found at his parents old house, but after many hours of unyielding research, they gave up their attempts to decipher anything meaningful from the artefacts inside, until this morning.

When he arrived in the living room, he spotted Isobel sitting alone; staring at him with an intense expression that he found difficult to interpret. He thought it unusual that he couldn’t comprehend her feelings towards him, as well as annoying. Women liked him naturally, even loved him. This phenomenon occurred without any extra effort on his part. Love’s infatuations affected his partners, but not him; never him.

No damn way.

Tom winced at the lie. Every time he saw Isobel, he reacted; a feeling akin to a hand squeezing his heart.

I liked it better when it just pumped blood.

He cringed at the thought and skulked closer, sliding down the wall until he sat next to her on the floor. Neither spoke for some time.

“So, Isobel. What’s going on?”

“The blond girl with the wide eyes …?”

“Petra?”

“Yes. She discovered something this morning, while you slept in.”

“Hardly, I …”

“Do you want hear this or not?”

She paused until he nodded.

Tom felt his face flush and he looked away.

“The name on the key tag isn’t a code. It’s an alpine hut. Apparently, it belongs to a federation of walking clubs. Bushfires burnt it to the ground on several occasions, although it hasn’t been destroyed since the 2030’s.”

“And,
this is relevant, how …?”

Tom immediately regretted his sharp condescending tone.

“Because, smart mouth, after the last fire your father rebuilt it. Whatever you’re looking for is probably up there in that hut.”

“Hell …”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“Something good. It’s about time.”

Tom felt a sudden flush of wellbeing. Without thinking, he put his arm around Isobel’s shoulders and pulled her towards him.

“Don’t.”

He felt her body stiffen. She threw his arm over her head and tossed it away from her.

“Sorry.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

Tom didn’t know how to answer.

“Just keep your hands off me.”

“Don’t worry. It won’t happen again.”

“Good.”

They stared at each other with fury; neither looking away.

Hey … What?

Tom tried to stand, but before he could, Isobel reached over and grasped his head with both hands. Her kiss felt soft and moist, and his body shivered.

She straddled him and he tried to wrap his arms around her, but she took hold of his wrists and forced them against the wall.

“No … Don’t hold me.”

She kissed him again. Wider, harder, wetter; her hands and knees pinning him. Tom surrendered; letting go to her need.

“Hey? Where are you going?”

Isobel disentangled herself, stood and backed away from him.

“Isobel …?”

She turned and kept walking, not responding or looking back.

_____________

Noah appeared and halted Isobel’s retreat. His entire face beamed with amusement. He may have witnessed their intimacy, Tom couldn’t be sure.

“Are you ready for a trip into the mountains, lass?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Noah pulled back from her in surprise.

“We’re all going, young lady. It’s not much of a climb. We’ll fly to an adjacent mountain and trek across a connecting ridgeline. Our march shouldn’t take any more than five or six hours, depending on the weather.”

Tom tried to concentrate on Noah’s descriptions, but couldn’t focus.

That kiss has put a spell on me.

He fought with his emotions. Could the others see his anguish?

Relax. Control your breathing.

Tom stood and thought about walking off, but something in Noah’s expression stopped him; a warning of clenched teeth and deep creases of concern.

“Is there a problem, Noah?”

He leant forward, turning his face from Isobel and whispered to Tom.

“Aye, there’s a problem. Even if things go well, we’ll have to spend two days trekking across those mountains; exposed with no backup. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Tom nodded; surprised. Noah rarely confided in him. He understood the man’s anxiety. This could be a fatal journey. He tried to think of something meaningful to say until he felt Isobel brush past him, halting his thought processes.

“What are you two whispering about?”

Neither answered.

“Look, you can’t be serious about this, Noah. I heard on the news that the mountains got weird early snow and wild storms. It’ll be dreadful up there. I’m not going.”

Noah relaxed and smiled at her.

“We’ve got no choice, lass. We have to go.”

Isobel frowned and folded her arms, ending the conversation. Noah smiled at her and turned to leave, but Tom grabbed his arm and manoeuvred him into a quiet corner of the room.

“Tell me, Noah. Is this the end of it?”

“I don’t know, Tom. I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.”

Tom turned to see if Isobel could hear them. She stared back at him with the same intense impenetrable expression that kept him baffled.

“Can you be honest with me, Noah?”

“That depends on what you’re asking.”

“What’s going to happen to Isobel and me? Are we going to be killed?”

Tom maintained his eye contact with Noah, as the man struggled with his answer.

“Look, lad, I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do everything in my power to see us all through.”

Noah’s eyes dropped away and Tom thought he understood the underlying message.

Only a bloody miracle will save us.