Dominic (15 page)

Beside him, his mother whimpered. “Look at you. Forcing the poor girl like some heathen.” The men ignored her, but they’d al heard.

Dominic cheeks slowly stained with red as he watched himself play the role of stud. He’d never seen himself display so much passion. Once,

during Moonful, he’d chanced to see his reflection in a pond as he’d mated a Shimmerskin. He’d been startled at how little emotion his face had betrayed,

even in the heat of orgasm.

“Your glove,” the Facilitator accused softly. “Why didn’t you bespel it?”

Dominic’s eyes flew to his hand where it embraced Emma’s abdomen. “It’s visible?”

“Of course, fool!” his mother blurted.

“But I
did
bespel it, as always,” he admitted, mystified.

“Perhaps not wel enough to counteract the strong emotions that were engendered that night,” the Facilitator murmured with his usual tact.

“Not yet.” It was Emma’s voice. In the mirror, his hand slipped between her legs, opening her for his impalement. She sucked in a quick breath.

The look on her face indicated the instant he breached her.

The Facilitator and Acolytes evinced no reaction at this, but Dominic felt his mother’s repugnance as she beheld him in the throes of rut. Her horror

was no greater than his own at this public reprising of last night’s events.

“Turn it off!” he ordered. A muscle in his jaw jumped, the only sign of anger.

Instead, the Facilitator forwarded from this scene to later events, eventual y pausing on a clear view of him holding the child Emma had just birthed

for her inspection.

“A female Chosen One?” his mother bemoaned, finding a chair and fal ing into it. “We’re doomed! What use is a female against the likes of

demons?”

“You have little faith in your own gender,” Dominic chided, ignoring her hysterics. “I would concern yourself more with her age. A babe, whether

male or female, cannot possibly take my place. It’s crucial that she have time to mature before I’m destroyed.”

“True enough,” said the Facilitator. “And therein lies the crux of my worry and the reason for this hasty betrothal. Until now, you’ve been of great

service to the citizens in Else World. But with the unfortunate exposure of your identity and that of the Chosen One as wel —”

“How many saw this?” Dominic asked.

“Anyone who possesses a scrying mirror.”

“Hel s.” He traced the scar along his jaw with cal oused fingertips. “Al is ruined.”

“My status as Honored Mother wil not be taken from me, wil it?” his mother worried anxiously. “I’ve done nothing wrong! My son’s the one who’s

brought ruin on al our heads.”

“You’re both overstating matters,” the Facilitator placidly argued. Then to Dominic, he continued. “More to the point—your life wil now be at even

greater risk and could be lost to us at any moment. The Chosen One is far from ready to defend us in such an eventuality. The family of your betrothed can

offer us much in the way of weaponry and troops.”

“Of what use are those?” Dominic countered. “Neither can cage the evil of demon souls.”

“Times grow more desperate. What could it hurt to wed the girl!” his mother persisted. “There is talk that some of the demons are evolving, taking

disciples as hosts. Soon they may walk undetected among us.”

The Facilitator shushed her. “Those are rumors, best ignored.”

Gods.
Dominic turned away, frustrated. Things were moving so fast. In the span of twenty-four hours, al seemed to be precipitously teetering on

the verge of utter chaos.

From the corner of his eye, he watched himself lift Emma’s nipple to her daughter’s ravenous pink lips. His expression as he gazed at them was

besotted.

“Cease this display if you don’t wish to see it splintered into pieces!” he roared, slapping the side of the mirror so hard that the scene upon it

sputtered and jumped.

With the wave of a hand, the Facilitator obliterated the image.

Another took its place—the gold disk. It pivoted there in the mirror’s center once again, endlessly exhibiting its alternating sides. The figure of

Bacchus was etched in low relief upon its front, and the grapevines of the ancient Satyr on the reverse.

“It’s larger than I expected,” his mother commented after a bit. She was studying the amulet, obviously uncomfortable with the taut silence that had

fal en in the room.

“It’s been enlarged so its engravings are more easily discernable,” she was informed. “We’re hoping someone wil report having seen it. But thus

far, nothing.”

Dominic stared at the screen, his mind elsewhere. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn’t eaten.

“I need food,” he grunted irritably.

The Facilitator snapped his fingers. One of his minions instantly arrived, and he began requesting Dominic’s usual morning repast of fruit,

vegetables, meat, bread, and goat’s milk. It was an unvaried menu that had been delivered to him here twice a day for the past fifteen years. He didn’t

question it, for the notion had been instil ed in him long ago that he was a weapon, and that food was therefore to be taken in for the sole purpose of

maintaining his powerful physique.

Dominic only half listened to the request for sustenance, the remainder of his attention on the mirror. He watched the image of the disk flip over

and over with mesmerizing slowness.

Bacchus. Vines. Bacchus. Vines. Gold glinted each time it flipped as if tossed by an invisible hand….

“Bacchus!” he muttered as realization struck. Without turning his head, he spoke, “Mother, go to the kitchens and oversee the preparation of my

meal.” When she didn’t move, he rounded on her, his expression fierce. “Go!”

At that, she stepped back so quickly she dropped her hood.

He retrieved it with his gloved hand and held it out to her.

She glanced at it, backing away. “Never mind. I have others like it.”

He captured her wrist, slapped the piece of fabric into her palm, and closed her fist on it.

She let out an involuntary sound of distress and shrank from him, snatching her hand away. “Why must you be so offensive?”

“It’s my nature. Now go, Mother, and leave us.”

She went, grumbling. “I’l go, al right. I’m leaving. I won’t stay to dine with the likes of you.”

Dominic spoke to the Acolytes once she’d gone, pointing toward the mirror. “Go back to the image you showed me of last night in Earth World. To

the moment before Emma’s husband departed his bedchamber.”

Gazing at him curiously, they nevertheless complied, and the scene sprang into view again. Carlo’s hand reached into view at the side of the

mirror, moving toward the dressing table. There was a clinking sound.

“There. Stop!” Dominic instructed. “Enlarge and look closely at the object he is about to pick up.”

When they obeyed, he saw it was as he’d thought. There, lying on the table, was a gold coin. On the displayed side was the figure of Bacchus, an

engraving identical to that on the disk that had been a revolving exhibit on this mirror just moments ago.

“The amulet!” the Facilitator said, dumbfounded. Beside him, the Acolytes murmured in gentle excitement.

“Continue watching,” Dominic told them. After an interval, the table once more came into view. The gold disk was gone.

“Where is it now?” The Facilitator’s eyes searched him. “Do you have it?”

Dominic shook his head. “Carlo must.”

He’d said he kept it close to remind him of how he’d been duped when Emma had attempted to utilize it as a contraceptive. She’d done that a

month ago, immediately after the temple had been vandalized.

“But how did he come by it to begin with? Do you believe he and his wife were in league with the demons responsible for its theft? It would explain

how she came to bear the Chosen One—the amulet’s magic. Perhaps the two of them uncovered the mirror intentional y to expose you and make the

location of your successor known to al .”

The notion fil ed Dominic with a shocking sense of betrayal. He could readily believe Carlo might act so deviously. But not her. Please, not her.

At his bleak expression, the Facilitator hedged. “Forgive me. This is al conjecture. We needn’t assume—”

“Last night when I came out of the tunnel, five of our enemies were waiting,” Dominic informed him.

“You were attacked?”

In reply, he gestured to his fresh wound. “They were expecting me. They knew I’d be returning through the gate.”

The Facilitator and the others shook their heads, tsking. “It was strangely quiet here last night. We’d begun to hope they might’ve gone

underground.”

“They’l go underground only once we’ve buried them al .” Dominic pivoted on his heel.

“What of your breakfast? Where are you going?” the Facilitator cal ed after him.

“To locate Carlo. I suspect he’l have the amulet or know its whereabouts.”

“I must have your agreement first. On the marriage.”

“You have it. When?” Dominic asked, not faltering in his departure.

“At next Moonful.”

He was to wed in one month. With a brusque nod, Dominic assented. Striding through a series of arches, he located his jacket and a shirt. Then

he was through the nave and beyond, outside the temple. Passing the empty pedestal upon which the statue of Bacchus had once stood, he hurried down

the nine marble steps.

At the base of the staircase, something caught his eye. His mother’s gem-studded hood lay discarded on the dirt. She’d lost no time in ridding

herself of something he’d touched. Something he’d tainted.

He crushed it underfoot and walked on.

14

S
even days later, Dominic knelt on one knee alongside Carlo’s decomposing body. A dozen soldiers stood guard nearby just outside the guly, darting

sidelong glances at him.

Two hours after leaving the temple, he’d located the regiment in which he’d served with Carlo only to learn that his comrade hadn’t reported in

upon his return from Earth World.

From there, his search had taken him to Carlo’s unoccupied home, where a neighbor had disclosed the news that he didn’t live there alone. It

seemed that Emma’s husband had also wed himself to an Else World husband in secret. That he served with the
cinaedi
and had a cal ing toward men

had been wel known. Most of the
cinaedi
bound themselves to an assortment of wives, husbands, and concubines. There was nothing scandalous about

this in Else World. Why had Carlo kept the relationship hidden?

A series of leads had brought Dominic here to this gul y. And this body.

Taking the point of Carlo’s chin in his fingers, he rotated the lifeless head, noting the tel tale gouges at the throat. A puff of rust-colored powder

escaped them, pressured by the motion. The blood in his veins had turned to dust.

His suspicions were confirmed. Demons had done this. He nudged the naked body, flipping it to lie facedown. As he expected, it had been brutal y

sodomized.

And it had been discarded here a week ago, if he was any judge. Yet vultures and insects hadn’t yet begun to feast. Another indication that

demons were responsible, for their peculiar stench kept predators away.

“The work of demons. Probably a lord,” he announced loudly enough for the ranking officer to hear. A few gawkers had gathered beyond the gul y

where the soldiers kept them at bay. Everywhere he went now, he was recognized. Because it was too draining to keep himself constantly disguised with

a bespel ing, the Facilitator had insisted that he travel with this entourage of two-legged watchdogs.

He thrust his left hand inside the gaping wounds on the body. The soldiers paled and looked away as he methodical y searched cavities and

innards for the amulet.

“Nothing,” he announced at last.

Standing, he went to the stream running in the lower part of the gul y, cleansing himself of offal. “Cordon off the area and search the surrounding

grounds!” he ordered.

“What are we looking for?” asked the Peacekeeper who led the guards.

“The amulet that was stolen from the Temple of Bacchus.”

Every eye widened, flying to Carlo’s body in surprise. “He was involved?” one of the soldiers ventured.

“Move it!” he barked, and the contingent immediately ceased their questions and scurried to do his bidding.

An exhaustive search commenced that continued far into the fol owing day, but the amulet remained elusive.

“Stop. It’s not here,” Dominic said at last. “The demons have it.”

They’d drawn a crowd by now—peasants, farmers, three goats, a pair of milkmaids. Even the wel -to-do occupants of a passing carriage had

paused to watch from their windows. Wel aware that he was the focus of their furtive stares and whispers, he ignored them.

He’d kept his dual identity secret from everyone outside his sect for a quarter of a century. But judging by the ripple of excitement he caused

whenever he ventured near to the onlookers, everyone here was aware of the spectacle he’d made of himself that night he’d spent in Earth World.

It had endangered his people. Exposed his fleshly weakness for a woman who didn’t want him. He didn’t know which disturbed him more.

“Where are his remains to go?” one of the soldiers asked him, nodding toward Carlo. His body had been wrapped but not yet removed for

cremation.

“To the family. In Earth World. Send his ashes to Nicholas, the eldest of the Satyr lords who dwel there. Include a request that I be invited through

the gate for a meeting with him as soon as possible.”

Dominic straightened to his ful height, only then al owing himself to consider the ful ramifications of Carlo’s demise.

Emma.

His heart skipped a beat.

She was a widow.

15

Satyr Estate in Tuscany, Italy