Rider In The Night free porn video

Authors Notes: This story contains scenes of child abuse, human sacrifice, and other nauseating things. If such offends, or if you are prohibited by age or location from reading such, then don't read it. For those in Arizona, I hope I got the information correct. I apologize in advance to any of the readers who are of Indian descent for any offense they may perceive in this work. No slur is intended against Indians or any racial group. If you want to read what has been written so far as one continuous story without interruption, then get hold of Steve Zink. He has it all archived. I owe another deep debt of thanks to Steve for his ingenious editing, and for pointing out an error to me before I sent this off and made a total fool of myself. I also owe deep thanks to Dr. Isocolese whose suggestions continue to inspire and assist. RIDER IN THE NIGHT by JDG ([email protected] (Webster)) editor in chief SteveZ Chapter One (ONE OF THOSE THINGS) It was the summer of 1989. I had just made Detective Captain. It would have been really impressive, if not for the fact that the department I worked for had only four Detectives, myself included, and sixteen uniformed officers. So it was small time, so what? I would rather be a big fish in a small pond, and all that crappola. I was off duty and out celebrating with my family. My wife, my son, and my daughter...real normal, just sitting in a pizza joint, having a deep dish pepperoni with the salad bar (gotta watch the weight, you know), and some cold diet cokes. Did I mention that I was a diabetic? No? Sorry. I had let myself be maneuvered into violating a couple of cardinal rules for cops. I came out without my gun, and I had my back to the door. My son and daughter were arguing over the last piece of pizza, and my wife was smiling at me. So proud...so full of love. Then her eyes got wide and her mouth opened. Just a sliver, a tiny opening that told me that something was going on behind me...something bad. I started to turn. They say you never see or hear the one that gets you. I sure didn't. * * * * * I don't remember meeting any great cosmic entity that sent me back to finish the job, to do the job that only I could do. I don't remember anything until I woke up, on a bed, in a hospital room. I had a tube down my throat, another piercing the wall of my abdomen, and a third in my...well let's just say that going to the bathroom was no problem. I didn't hurt. I remember thinking that with all those wires and tubes coming off of and out of me, I should hurt like Hell. There was a pale blue curtain pulled around my bed. A nurses call button rested on the small brown table beside the bed. I couldn't see anything beyond the curtain, except that the room was dark. It was either nighttime, or the drapes were very heavy, and closed. I didn't know what had happened to me. I remembered my wife's face...that look of shock or fright, starting to turn, and then nothing. I figured I must have been injured. No duh. I'm wired up like the Six Million Dollar Man, and laying in a hospital bed somewhere. I remember thinking that Nena must be worried sick. I didn't know, then, that she was beyond worry...they all were, and I should have been, also. I heard the susurrus of the air through the tube that went down my throat. A respirator, apparently. I also heard what sounded like a faint beeping...extremely slow. I counted them. Just two beeps a minute...barely. I couldn't figure out what was making the noise, only that it came from the same general direction as the wires, as they disappeared through the curtain. Well, if I wanted answers, then I had best press the call button, and let them know I was awake. I reached over and grabbed the white, plastic handled, all purpose bed adjuster and nurse caller, and pressed the button above the nurses symbol. I was very proud that my hand didn't shake. I must not have been out as long as I had assumed, if I wasn't shaky after just waking up. But if I wasn't out all that long, then why all the tubes and wires? I heard the cushioned steps of the nurse as she hurried down the hall. It sounded as if she was walking right beside my ear. Geez, I thought they were supposed to wear rubber soled shoes, not army boots. Another set of clod hoppers joined hers, and I heard a whispered conversation. I could tell they were whispering, even though their voices carried plainly. Great acoustics, I thought at the time. Nothing like magnifying the noise, instead of muting it. The other patients must love that. "Where are you hurrying to, girl?" I could picture the speaker just from the sound of her voice. Black, middle aged, heavy set, if not quite fat yet. Her jerry curls rustled against her stiff starched collar, which also scraped against her skin. I shook my head. No way was I hearing that, it had to be my imagination. "The patient in room 306. His nurse call button just went off." This one was white/oriental, petite, middle twenties. Rather large breasted from the way her bra creaked in complaint against the bounce of her chest. I was having a great time fantasizing about what these two women looked like. Yeah, just fantasy, that's all. "306! You know he couldn't have pressed that button. If his heart rate went up, it would set off an alarm so we would know he was waking up. I ain't heard no alarm tonight. Have you?" Great grammar, that one had. Was that what they were teaching in nursing school, these days? "I know, but the call button went off. I have to check it out. Probably just a malfunction. With all those wires in there, it is probably just some sort of electrical interference." What was taking them so long, anyway? They must have been right outside the room, if not in it, when they started their conversation. How else could I have heard them? I got tired of waiting, and grabbed the tube in my mouth and pulled it out. I thought it should have made me gag, but it didn't, despite the fact that it was easily long enough to go all the way down my throat. Bully for me, repressed gag reflex. If I was a woman or a homosexual, I might be able to capitalize on that talent. I wondered if I could find a way to teach it to my wife? It felt wonderful to breathe on my own again. I thought, just in the nick of too late, that it might not have been so wise to pull the tube out. What if I couldn't breathe independently yet? Oh well, born lucky, I guess. The thunderous footsteps got louder and louder, and then the curtain was whipped back. I almost feinted at the sight of the two women; one, a middle aged, heavy set, black woman with jerry curls, the other an occidental/oriental, petite, girl/woman with ponderously large breasts for her small frame. I probably would have feinted, but she beat me to it, and I thought maybe the black woman could use some help with her. Why was everyone so surprised to see my baby blues open? I'd been opening my eyes all my life. An hour later, the room was full of doctors and specialists of all types. There seemed to be some dispute going on regarding the heart monitor (the source of the mysterious beeps earlier) and whether or not it was working properly. Hell, I could have told them it was on the fritz. According to it, my heart was only beating twice a minute. That's not enough to maintain consciousness, possibly not even human life. I didn't know then just how true those words were. Really, I didn't. I kept answering inane questions, like my name, my age, where I lived, what I did for a living, until I began to lose my patience. Clearly, I had my memory intact, and wasn't suffering from senile dementia or anything else. I demanded to know where my wife was, and if she and the kids were okay. The doctors suddenly got quiet. Oh God, but that hurt. They tried to lie to me, but it was too late. I guess they were afraid the shock might finish me off or something. But I knew. My wife and kids were dead. Why them, and not me? I had no answers then. Now I do, but it still stinks. In the days and weeks to come, I was tested three ways from Sunday. They quickly found I could sit and stand unaided, without even any dizziness. My manual dexterity was at least 10 times better than the top rating they had. My reflexes were off the charts. My hearing was extended far beyond normal human sensitivity and range. (That first night I had heard the first nurse as she left the nurses station, half a floor away from me.) My visual acuity enabled me to see as well at night as normal people could on an overcast day. I hesitated to tell them, that in the total absence of light, I could see their body heat. I figured they were shook up enough as it was. Oh yeah, after they removed the stomach tube? The hole healed up in less than a day. The men from Uncle Sam came to see me about 5 weeks into the testing. They just wanted to have a friendly little chat. Yeah, right. I trust Uncle Sugar's boys about as far as I can toss a Buick. Which isn't as far as you may think...honestly. Seems they were on a recruitment drive. You see, there are night walkers among us. Shape shifters...Vampires, Lamia, Lycanthrope's of every type and flavor. Others, too. Real witches and sorcerers, Dark Sidhe, Zombies, Trolls and Ogres. It was enough to make your skin crawl. There were elite, specially trained teams that hunted them and sanctioned them. Exceptional men and women. Mutants, you might say. People with genetic anomalies. Things that set them apart from the rest of us...of you. They explained that to the rest of the world, I was still in a coma. They could make it seem that I never came out of it. That I just died, peacefully in my sleep. I could then go through some intensive training, and join such a team. Yeah, and what if I had said no? I think they would have still released that story, only in that case, they would make sure it was true. They had told me too much to let me leave. I had been a cop for far too long not to know when I wasn't really being recruited, I was being drafted. So I joined up. What else could I do. The life insurance went to my mother. How they got the doctors and nurses to dummy up, I don't know, and I don't want to know. I hope they are all lolling on some sun drenched beach somewhere, and not laying in some dirt filled hole. But I'll never know. I won't let myself. So I'm a coward...so sue me. It was in their training camp in Tennessee that they discovered that I had preternatural strength and stamina. I heal really quickly from virtually any wound. I'm highly resistant to poisons and drugs. I was drilled on firearms, crossbows, swords, firebombs, C-4, flame-throwers, computers, languages (I seemed to have an unusual facility with them too - wish I had that back in High School), scuba, vehicle operation, horseback riding, various gasses, poisons, and other delightful things such as garrotes and guillotines. I was found to be completely impervious to influence and hypnotism. Bully for me. Hand to hand training was a joke. With the skills I already possessed, and my enhanced reflexes, the best they had fell before me like small children. And so it was that I graduated, and joined my first stalker team. See the world...kill a few monsters...wonder just what the hell makes you any different from them. Try and drown the pain of losing, not just your life, but all that made it important, in an ever growing sea of blood. What more could a guy ask? If they could see me now, that old gang of mine. Nah...I'd just have to kill 'em. And wouldn't that be a shame. What really bothered me, was that it didn't really bother me. Not at all. Callous, jaded? Nah, not me. I'm just one of Uncle Sugar's little Night Riding Soldiers. Just doing my job, Ma'am. Pardon the bullet holes in your chest. Collateral damage, ya know. Ain't life fuckin' wonderful? Chapter Two (SECOND COMING) I hate school. Hell, I had hated school when I was a kid. Elementary, Jr. High, High School...I hated every minute of it. Sitting in cramped, hot little rooms counting dust motes as they danced in the sunbeams that shone through the dirty jalousie windows. Having some insipid, sallow faced man or woman try to tell you all about life instead of letting you run free and live it. That's the problem with being a cop, you know. You never graduate from school. First college, then the Academy, then training schools, legal updates, required courses, promotional study groups...feh, it all sucked. Of course, without the schools, every cop in Florida would be in a world of hurt. You see, the law changes so fast, and so often, that you don't have a Chinaman's chance of keeping up on your own. The law is very specific about that, though...if a cop should have, or even if he/she only could have known about a law change, and that cop violates it? Well, then they hang you out to dry. Ignorance of the law is no excuse, even if it only changed hours before you made the boo boo, in strict compliance with the previous law. You're screwed, end of story. So I was back in school again. At least the scenery was nice to look at. The leaves on the oaks, maples, and black walnut trees were turning all sorts of fiery colors in the early autumn. The air up here in the mountains of Tennessee was crisp and sharp. A light sprinkling of frost coated the ground underneath my booted feet as I jogged up the steep trail. Funny, but I had always hated the cold before. Now it just didn't seem to faze me. As we jogged together under a sky so blue that it made your eyes ache just to look at it, I heard the rasping breaths of my instructors. They were just along to make sure nothing happened to me, you know. All on the up and up. Why, a person could get lost on a clearly marked trail in the mountains, if left to their own devices. That is, if they were a total moron, or if they wanted to run off. Of course, that was not why they stayed so close by me all the time. Noooo. Paranoid? Me? I was thinking that I should be getting winded about now. We had been jogging for over 5 kilometers, according to my estimations. I had always hated jogging, too. Never jogged more than a mile in my life. Now 5 kilometers, and I was still going strong. Just like the little engine that could. "Let's take a breather!" That was Jackson S. Jones, head instructor of our little group. He was a former Para Recon from the Marines, and 6'6" of the meanest black man this side of Bad Leroy Brown. He was all hard angles and sharp edges. Ripped to the bone, not more than 4% body fat, tops. Big, but not the inflated physique of a bodybuilder. He had lean, long, rip-cord muscles that bunched and played under his ebony skin like steel cables. His head was vaguely bullet shaped, and he kept it clean shaven. He had the whitest teeth I had ever seen. Everyone seemed to be grateful for the rest break. They may all be able to run for miles on level ground, but running a bit over 5 kilometers up a steep mountain grade will take the starch out of even Superman's shorts. Only here, I was Superman, and I wasn't tired at all. That bothered me...a lot. The cold had no effect, the steep incline, the thin air, the vigorous effort only 2 weeks out of the hospital, none of it fazed me in the slightest. The team medic, a cute little dirty blonde haired woman named Jess, took my blood pressure and pulse. It was the same...always the same. My heart beat two beats a minute, barely. My blood pressure practically didn't register at all. My blood sugar was a constant 120/80. Picture perfect. Even my diabetes had deserted me. Shit, I must really be losing it if I was missing that damned disease. "So, Doc, will I live?" It was the standard question I always asked her. Her quick and ready smile told me she didn't mind the gentle ribbing. "I think I can venture out on a limb, and say that there is definitely every possibility that your life force will continue on beyond this immediate point in time." Now it was her turn to grin at me. Tit for tat, when it came to teasing. She walked over to her small pack and took out her computer log and made the latest entry. I didn't know why they bothered anymore. The results were always the same. Always. I looked around at the rest of the group of trainers. They all wore sweats and tennis shoes, and most had light packs. I was in gabardine shorts, a sleeveless olive green t-shirt, heavy white socks and jump boots. If they sat for too long, the cooling sweat on their bodies would chill them. I didn't seem to sweat anymore, either. They were supposed to test and train me to catch monsters. Set a thief to catch a thief? I wondered, for the thousandth time since waking up, just what the hell I was anymore. I noticed Rodriguez staring at me. He didn't look away when I turned my gaze in his direction. Rodriguez didn't like me, and he made no bones about it. He considered me just another monster. Just another thing that should be put down for the good of humanity. He was a slim, light skinned Puerto Rican. Not an inch over 5'8", he seemed to constantly hum with barely repressed power. Rodriguez thought I was a monster. I knew he was a sociopath. He had been transferred to this organization, against his will, from the Navy Seals. He was a deadly infighter, and an expert with a garrote wire or a knife. He was one I would never willingly turn my back to. Master Sergeant David Chaffin, lately of the U.S. Army Rangers, rounded out the team. He was a Cherokee half breed with dark good looks. He was so handsome that he was almost pretty. He was built like Stallone in Rambo. Tight and hard. He wore a perpetual scowl that was belied by the laughter lurking just behind his oh so brown eyes. Unlike the others, he wore his black (and I do mean BLACK, not dark brown) hair in long ringlets that hung to his shoulders. A woven Indian headband kept it out of his eyes. Hey Cochise, seen any broken arrows lately? His specialty was small arms and languages. He spoke at least 5 fluently, not counting Cherokee. And why should we count that? Hell, we had never respected the Cherokee Nation enough to count them as human beings in our treatment of them. Grumpy? Me? You gotta be kidding. Jones called it, and we all started the trek down the other side and back around to home base. Home base in this case being staging and training area designation Alpha 5. You think Area 51 has secrets? No one who wanders into the area around Alpha 5 would ever be seen again. Of course, any civilians were carefully maneuvered out of the area before they could get close. Can't have too many people disappearing in any given area. Might attract undue press attention. Can't have the good people of the U.S. of A. finding out that monsters really do exist, or that their government trains their very own special ones. Hunter killers like good dogs. Down boy. Here fido. Low self esteem? Maybe...just a little. Losing everything you hold dear in life will do that to you. We got back to base, and I headed to my "cell" to get changed for self defense class. Master Lao taught this course. He was so high up in martial arts that he was beyond the need for belt designations. I wasn't quite sure what his discipline or disciplines were. It seemed to have bits of Akido, Jui Jitsu, Karate, Savate, Chinese Boxing, even Tai Kick Boxing in it. It was fluid and graceful and deadly. He attacked nerves and joints. He was incredibly fast and agile for an old man. Now, when I say old, I mean old with a capital O! He looked like a walking mass of beef jerky. Yellow, parchment thin skin stretched over bones. His ligaments and tendons appeared to stand out all over his body. He could do one hundred 1 finger push-ups without breaking a sweat. Hey, so could I, but then, I wasn't really human any more. Was I? Colonel Jacobson, commander of the base, was waiting for me in the cell. He looked up as I walked in. "You mind not doing that?" I asked. "What?" He looked confused. I had taken him off guard with my request. "Not coming in here when I'm not around. You know there are cameras in here, and you guys can get in any time you desire, and I know it. But I like to keep up the illusion that this is really MY room, and I have some privacy rights." My smile wasn't fooling anyone. "I didn't realize you were so sensitive about your privacy, considering that you have been caught skinny dipping in the pool twice since you got here!" His voice was gruff with repressed anger. He almost spit the words at me. "I wasn't referring to my privates, but my privacy. My ability to retreat to somewhere where I can pretend I am alone and unmonitored. Some place where I can feel that I have some control over my life." My words were soft, but my eyes had grown hard, threatening. I could feel it. Many a person had told me that when I gave them "the look" they almost shit themselves. It was an innate ability I had always had. My eyes conveyed the threat far better than words or dramatic actions could. The Colonel backed off. Bully for him. If he could make the effort so could I. I hooded my eyes and pulled it back in. Of late, I had begun to think of it as my beast. Sometimes it was very hard to reign it in, but this time, it went back into it's cage docile enough. "I, um, I was just checking up on you. Seeing if everything was satisfactory." I had never seen a full bird Colonel get so flustered that they had to clear their throat when speaking to someone who was, effectively, less than a buck private. I was just a civy, after all. "It's fine. Thanks for asking." I went and got out my Gei for practice as I said it. I never saw the sense in a Gei. You wouldn't be wearing one when you had an encounter on the street, so why practice in one? Still, it was their game, their rules. "I am getting excellent reports on you, Taylor. You are performing at levels far beyond our initial expectations." He was back in full Colonel mode again. I thought of taking him down a peg or two, just for shits and giggles. But why? Just to prove that I could be a decent and dedicated man's personal boogey man? Nah, not my style. "Your reaction times, stamina, and strength are off the scale. More than human." There was something in the way he said, "more than human," that made me stop and look at him. His face was his professional military mask. It betrayed no clue as to his thoughts. A perfect poker face if I ever saw one. Just why was he here in my room? "Well, I had better get back and let you get on to self defense class. You start training in familiarization with all known types of paranormals tomorrow night. Carry on." And he was gone. Just like that. I just stood there, staring at the door, as it swung closed behind him. "More than human," kept ringing in my head. And that last thing he had said...all known paranormals. Was he telling me something without meaning to? If I wasn't really human anymore, then just what the hell had I become? A shiver ran down my spine. I wasn't at all sure I wanted to find out. Chapter 3 (THREE PART HARMONY) Lies. They are so easy to say, and so hard to live with. They say the great thing about telling the truth is that you never have to remember what you said. Lies can hurt, even when you tell them with the very best of intentions. I found that out. I was in the training room of the facility. I wouldn't really call it a Dojo. It had tatami mats and wooden Kendo swords, but it also had free weights, machine weights, heavy and speed bags...everything you might need in a modern gym. I was facing off against Rodriguez. He was trying to get in close to use his knife on me. It was supposed to be just hard rubber, but the last time I checked, rubber didn't gleam in the same manner as the finely honed edge of a combat knife. He feinted to my left, and then slithered in under my guard to plant the big knife under my sternum...right in my solar plexus. A killing blow, employed on any normal human being. Good thing for me that description no longer applied. I knew he was faking. If asked how I knew, I would be hard pressed to answer; I just knew. So when he doubled under my extended left arm...with the intention of skewering me on the "rubber" knife...I pole axed him with my fist. I pulled the punch, but not enough to keep him conscious. Hey, like they say, no pain...no gain. Jess was there in the blink of an eye to check his vitals. She gave me a dirty look. "You might have killed him, you know." It wasn't really an accusation. Not quite, but there was something there...something I could not place. "If I had wanted to kill him, I would have taken his knife away and stuck him with it." "It's only hard rubber, see..." Her face went pale as she lifted the big Kaber knife. The very big, and very sharp, steel Kaber combat knife. "Oh my God. He was trying to kill you!" "Not really. He just wanted to try and hurt me. If he had wanted to kill me, he would have used a LAW's or something that might have a chance of finishing me off." My smirk was just short of sincere. I wasn't all that certain that I could survive being gutted like a fish, despite what the doctors kept telling me. "I'm going to have to report what he tried to do to the Colonel." She was all efficiency again. "No need to do that." "What do you mean? It's against regulations to use a lethal weapon, or lethal force for that matter, in a simulated training environment." Her face was flushed. Her hair in disarray. I was suddenly very aware of her pulse, and the heat from her oh so womanly body. "You don't have to tell the Colonel, because..." Dramatic pause here for effect, as I lifted my left arm and pointed at an innocuous looking row of metal reinforcing straps that were riveted at the joint between the steel girders that crisscrossed the ceiling, and the wall. A tiny glint of light reflected off the camera lens there. "He already knows." I may have sounded paranoid, but then, you're not really paranoid when people are out to get you. I turned then, and walked out. Odds were good that the Colonel had instructed Rodriguez to use the Kaber, or at least gave him his blessing. I was pissed. I was tired of being kept in the dark about everything. I headed back to my cell for a shower and a nap before evening chow call. Evening chow call? Gee, didn't I just sound like a good little soldier. I put the shower on as hot as it would go. I barely felt the scalding water as it cascaded off my back. The steam billowed out of the tiny bathroom in thick white clouds. I should have been startled when I felt the tiny hands encircle my waist from behind. I wasn't. I had smelled her before she entered the shower with me. Her scent was heady, and heavy with desire. I turned and looked down at Jess. She wasn't really what you would call beautiful. Her face seemed...off somehow. Almost like when it was designed, the designer didn't really quite know how to put a girl's face together and make it beautiful. She was cute as all get out, but no one would ever call her beautiful. Her hair was damp from the steam. Droplets hung heavy, on the ends of the strands. Her hair was darker when wet. I tried to push her away from me, but my hands were soapy and slid across her small, firm, breasts. On a bigger woman, they would have been too small. Barely the size of small apples, with surprisingly large pink nipples. She moaned when my soapy hands slid across her skin. I felt the air rush out of my own lungs. A stirring from below let me know that if I didn't stop this soon, I wouldn't be able to. I suddenly felt hot in the shower. The air seemed too close, almost as close as her satiny skin felt to me. I ran my hands down her sides and grasped her firm buttocks in both hands. She gasped at the sudden lifting and opening of her nether regions. She ground her pubis into me. I shuddered with the effort of keeping from responding to her. It wasn't right! My wife wasn't dead and gone barely 5 months! With a groan that was equal parts frustrated desire and guilt, I grabbed her upper arms and pushed her off of me. I turned and stepped out of the shower...into the clouds of steam. "You're rejecting me!" It wasn't really a question. She almost hissed it at me. "Jess...it isn't that you're not desirable. You are. But my wife..." I couldn't finish, suddenly overcome with guilt and grief at the loss of my wife. It must have been the sudden surge of lust that blinded me to it at first, and the guilt that kept me from catching on after that. I couldn't see Jess through the steam. The steam. Steam from a shower that would peel the skin off of any normal human. Jess didn't even flinch at the temperature. I suddenly felt cold inside those suffocatingly hot clouds. I stepped back quietly, and stumbled over something that lay behind my feet. I twisted and caught myself, or rather, I should say I would have caught myself, if the large coil behind me hadn't wrapped around my legs and lifted me into the air. The shower stopped. Out of the mist swam a vision out of Dante's worst nightmares. The body of a gigantic snake, with the head of a cute little blonde haired woman attached. A forked tongue flicked out from between her lips. Jess was a Naga. I would have tried to talk to her, reason with her, really, I would have, if she hadn't chosen to smash me into the walls at that moment with such power that the air was forced from my lungs, and my head rang like a church bell at a Baptist preacher's convention. So much for being impervious to injury and pain. I saw starbursts of light behind my eyelids. "It could have been so easy for you. If you had slept with me, you would have been corrupted, and my Master could have claimed you for his own. Just like the Bitch!" "Jess..." I was having trouble getting words out past my lips. You see, while I was dazed, she had thrown several coils of her body around me, and was applying enough pressure to crush a hot water heater. Each coil of her body was thicker than a telephone pole, and immensely strong. I tried again to speak to her. "Jess, we're friends, remember?" Oh yeah, that was brilliant. What can I say? My brain was not working too well, due to concussion and oxygen depravation just then. "You stupid little man. You don't even know what you are...or who made you. Made you and another. My Master made the Bitch, too. His Bitch now...once yours." I heard that distantly, as if she was speaking from deep inside a well. "Once yours." Once mine! I felt a sudden surge of energy, and began to flex my arms against the crushing pressure. Jess squeezed back. It became a test of wills and strength. Me pushing out, and her pushing back. If I had a weapon, I might have done better, but who takes a weapon into the shower with them? Me, if I survive this encounter. I heard a pounding at the door. Jess had locked it when she came in. Others must have heard the crashing and banging. My room was trashed. Hey, it's hard to fit over 35 feet of snake into a room this small. It would take them time to get the pass key from the Colonel. He was three floors up. It was time I knew I didn't have. "Pledge your soul to the service of my Master...your maker, and I will release you. He will see us safely out of here." "No fucking way, you BITCH!" I screamed in her face. Big mistake. Great for a show of bravado, but let me tell you...if you ever find yourself in the coils of a Naga...don't call her the "B" word. They REALLY don't like that. With a shriek, she transformed her head fully into a snake's head. The sides flattened out, and I saw the unmistakable outline of a cobra's hood. Okay, time for plan B. Too bad I had never made even a plan A, much less a plan B. The gigantic head weaved back and forth toward me. Venom dripped from the extended fangs. Where it fell on the linoleum floor, it sizzled and melted. Great...acid venom. Where is Segourney Weaver when you really need her? The giant head reared back, readying for the strike. If I was gonna try something, it had better be now. With a final wrench, I freed my right arm. I also almost dislocated it in the process. I had no weapons except my body, and only a second to act. As the head began it's lightening quick descent toward me, I drove my stiffened fingers into her body. Exactly as Master Lao had taught me. Have you ever owned a super ball? You know, those high bouncing ones made of super dense rubber? Now imagine trying to drive your fingers through a super ball that was thicker than a phone pole. I did it, but it hurt like Hell. My first knuckles had to be jammed on every finger in my hand, but I kept the pressure up and worked the hand through to the spine. Her strike faltered from the pain, but then her head continued it's descent. I didn't scream when her fangs pierced my chest and left shoulder, just missing my heart, but spearing my lung nicely. I'm rather proud of that. She did though, as I closed my right hand around her spine and ripped it out of her body. Ever cut a snake in half? The two halves tend to thrash around and flop all over the place, long after it is dead. Venom kept pumping out of the fangs where they stuck out of my back. At least that's what they tell me. I don't know, because I had blacked out by then. The last thing I remember was the door crashing open, accompanied by concussive blasts from a large bore weapon, and Rodriguez screaming something in Spanish. That's when the darkness swam up behind my eyes and claimed me. Who would have thought a tough guy like me could faint? Chapter 4 (FOUR WAY DANCE) Distantly, I could hear voices shouting. One was definitely Rodriguez, and one was Colonel Jacobson, but the third voice I could not place right off. I was still in that fuzzy sort of separated plane of consciousness that hovers between wakefulness and sleep. You know the place...when you are not sure if you want to wake up fully or go back into dreamland? Then something strange happened. The voices faded and I found myself somewhere else. Ahead and to the left was the cashier and take out pick up station. To the right was the salad bar with the dining room and tables beyond it. On the sides were video games followed by booths with red vinyl seats. Families were dotted about here and there. The air was pungent with the aroma of maranera sauce and pepperoni. God no. My head turned of it's own volition, as if I was no more than a marionette and another was manipulating my strings. Sitting at a table, just to the right side of the middle, sat my wife. Please no! God no! Not again! NOT AGAIN!!! I suddenly found myself sitting at the table, my back to the door. My son and daughter were arguing over the last piece of pizza and my wife was smiling at me. So proud...so full of love. My heart seemed in that moment to be beating a thousand times a minute instead of it's predictable 2 beat rhythm. I couldn't get any air into my lungs, and I felt as if I was boiling in my own juices. My wife's eyes got wide and her mouth opened. Just a sliver, a tiny opening that told me that something was going on behind me...something bad. I couldn't stand it. It just wasn't fair. Must I fail again? Must I lose them again?! I started to turn. * * * * * "Colonel Jacobson! Over here, quick!!" Jacobson stopped his argument with Rodriguez with a look that promised that another word from the former SEAL could very well be his last. Rodriguez got the message. He knew what kind of power Colonel Jacobson held on this base. To the people assigned here, he was God. With absolute power over life and death. "What is it Doctor?" "Colonel...look at these readings. His alpha wave activity is spiking off the charts. His temperature has shot up to 106 degrees, and his heart...look at his heart rate!" Jacobson looked. Taylor's heart that had beat at a steady, if lethargic, two beats a minute through the most extreme physical stress they could create, was up to 180 beats a minute. "Can he survive this?" "I don't know. If he were a normal man, I would say that his life would be endangered, but...with Taylor...who knows?" "God help us all if he dies." With that last, the Colonel turned on his heel and stalked from the room. Doctor Thompson looked at the Colonel's departing back. "That's one cold blooded son of a..." "Careful Doc," Rodriguez cautioned. "He has ears everywhere." Then Rodriguez, too, was gone. Leaving Doctor Thompson to monitor his patient's progress as best he could. "Can even a man like Taylor survive the wounds he received? Not to mention the acid poison that was pumped into him. He's always healed up within minutes or hours at most. But he's never been the victim of a preternatural creature's venom before. God help us all indeed, Colonel," Doctor Thompson mused silently to himself. Then he started barking orders at his two nurses. Soon they had Taylor's body packed in with bags of ice. * * * * * As my head began it's slow, molasses like revolution toward the door behind me, Nena's hand shot out with incredible speed to arrest my motion. I looked into her azure blue eyes. "Come find me, Lee. I'm scared, please, come find me soon. I love you. Time is short." Her eyes got really big then. "No!" she shouted. "It's too soon. Lee. LEE!" * * * * * I was shooting away from her at incredible speed. Something, some force, was pushing us apart. Whirling me away somewhere I did not want to go. Her words ringing in my ears, I found myself clawing aside bags of ice and ripping wires and tubes loose as I sat up screaming, "NENA!!!!" I looked around me at the spare, cold, antiseptic room I was in. I was at the base, in the infirmary. Nena was dead, and I was all alone...again. Or was I? I remembered what the Naga had said. My maker and another's. My Bitch? My...woman? There seemed to be four major players in this mystery. The Colonel, me, my beloved Nena, and this mysterious "Master". But there was only one I could immediately get my hands on, and he was going to come clean with me one way or another. As I walked from the infirmary room trailing tubes and wires, as well as an entourage of medical personnel, I didn't even notice the hole that was just now closing up in my chest. Hey, when you're going to beard the lion in his den, you can't sweat the small stuff. I would have answers tonight, or someone was going to die. I just hoped that someone wouldn't be me. Chapter 5 (FIVE OF A KIND) I sat on the bunk in my cell. I was shaking uncontrollably. I just couldn't seem to control the tremors that ran through my body every few seconds...any more than I could hold back the hot tears that coursed freely down my cheeks. I almost wished I had not confronted Colonel Jacobson. Almost? I must be a masochist. What a can of shit I had opened with that visit. I had stormed into his office, all righteous indignation, demanding answers in a snarling voice that sounded more like a band saw ripping through hardwood than a human voice. Human, me? Yeah, and if you buy that, I have some swamp land I'd like to unload. When I ran out of rant, the Colonel looked at me with haunted eyes. Shaking his head, he sighed deeply. I had never seen him look so completely human, frailties and all. "We always knew that sooner or later you would be asking these questions. I guess I was selfish enough to hope that you would ask them after you left here. After you were no longer my sole responsibility. Sit down Taylor." He gestured at the empty leather chair in front of his massive, gun metal grey, desk. That sounded too much like an order to me, and I was not in the mood. Still, the tone of his voice, the softness of his speech caused me to swallow the sharp retort I was preparing to spit in his face. I took the chair indicated. As I sat, I couldn't help noticing the softness of the leather. I kept envisioning Recardo Montalbon intoning about the "rich Corinthian leather". I would have smiled at the thought, if I had any smiles left in me. "Taylor, I have gone over the interviews taken by various personnel right after you recovered consciousness, and over the intervening days, until your assimilation within this organization. You have no idea what happened after everything went black. You assumed that you had either been shot or struck over the head with a blunt instrument with enough force to render you unconscious." I nodded my head, even though he clearly wasn't asking a question. "When the police arrived, summoned by a man who had stopped by to pick up his take out order, they found a scene of carnage. The bodies of the patrons were literally torn apart. Blood was everywhere. Forensic examination would find that some had been exsanguinated, and others had been partially eaten. The teeth marks were not even vaguely human. That was when our people got involved. We had our forensics experts inform the authorities that the teeth marks were from a German Shepherd or other similarly large and viscous dog. In truth, they were the bite marks of canis lupus." "A wolf? You're saying that the people in the restaurant, including me and my family, were all attacked by a wolf?" "Not 'A' wolf...but a pack of wolves. Nor were they ordinary wolves. You have been studying lycanthropy long enough now to know that as a practical matter, "weres" are real. If nothing else, your own encounter with the Naga should bear that fact out." Seeing my eyes flash at the mention of the Naga, he hurried on. "We believe that someone, someone very powerful, came to that restaurant that night with a specific purpose in mind. But I am getting ahead of myself." He rubbed his eyes and suddenly seemed very tired. "Forensic evidence suggested that a ritual took place at that restaurant. The police think a group of Satanist's, accompanied by a large and well trained attack dog, entered and slaughtered everyone there with the exception of you...and one other." I could feel my throat tighten up and threaten to close off the passage to my lungs. My stomach muscles clenched and I guess my face betrayed my emotions. "Yes, Taylor, your wife's body was never found. Her purse was found beside the table you were sprawled out near. You were unconscious and had runic symbols painted on you in blood. Blood had also been leaked into your mouth. Genetic analysis confirmed where some of the blood came from, but another part was anomalous. We don't know what it came from." For the first time, it hit me. In all this time, I had barely given my kids a thought. I had recognized that they were dead, but I never wondered how they died. Other than brief flashes, it just never occurred to me to wonder about it at all. Where were they buried? I had been told they were buried during the time that I lay unconscious, but I had never once asked to be taken to their graves. What kind of a monster was I? My own kids. "I told you that some of the people had been exsanguinated, ritualistically, and that their blood had been leaked into your mouth." Here he paused, and licked his lips. A fine beading of perspiration coated his upper lip. He seemed moved by some strong emotion, but whether sympathy or fear, I could not tell. "The victims of this particularly heinous act...they were your kids. It was their blood mixed with the other that was found in your mouth." I don't remember much after that, until I came to my senses sitting on my bunk, sobbing into my hands. Something about virgin sacrifices needed for a ritual summoning and binding. I didn't care. I didn't want to hear anymore after that. It's too bad that I didn't, it may have saved me some pain later on. I suddenly felt sick, and ran to the head and retched violently. The dry heaves are never pleasant, more so when you are heaving because you were just told that you had swallowed your own kids' blood. When I felt like I could stand, and not start a round of puking again, I washed off my face. As I looked up, into the small mirror above the sink, I wondered how a monster could look so normal. I collapsed on my bed in exhaustion. I didn't dream any dreams that night. At least, none that I can recall. I never seemed to dream any more. Pity the man who cannot dream. It only magnifies the pain when you're awake. It wasn't too long after this that I was informed that I had completed my training. No pomp and circumstance, just a call from the Colonel to report at 0630 hours the next morning to be processed and shipped out to the team I was to join. After the flash of humanity that he had showed the night he told me what had happened to me and my family, he returned to being the coldly efficient military machine that we had all come to know and hold in highest contempt. Hey, who was I to tell people that he really was human under all that spit and polish? At the processing desk, they issued me a duffle bag and several sets of clothes, weapons, I.D., money, and a credit card. I was given a number and told to memorize it. The clothes ran the gamut from ordinary civilian clothes (including the size of underwear I now wore in the brand I preferred) to military field duty gear. Black, white, dun colored, and regular cammo, I had all the military clothing I could stomach. In addition, I got a pair of black "walker" friendly shoes, military jungle and jump boots (with steel reinforcements), and a set of perfectly ordinary Nikes. The weapons were more interesting. I selected twin Desert Eagle .44 auto mags, a 9 round magazine for each, with extra magazines that I could store in my issued web belt. I also took a Mossburg, 12 gauge, pump action shotgun. It was stainless with a walnut stock, fashioned into a pistol grip. The barrel was sawed off so short I had trouble believing that the pump action slide would work, but it did. It would hold five shells with one in the chamber. I took a titanium alloy Kaber knife, with a coating of genuine silver inlaid with strips of ordinary iron. The fey are friends of the moons metal, and only cold iron will stop one of them. The pistols I carried in a jackass shoulder rig, with the web belt being reserved for ammo and other gear. I was told I could draw more gear if I needed it when I got to my destination. The I.D. case held a valid Ohio drivers license, as well as an international one. It also held cards that identified me as working for the C.I.A., the F.B.I., Interpol, the Secret Service, and Border Patrol. Impressive stuff. I again had to wonder about the extent and power of the organization I now worked for. I was surprised to see Sgt. Chaffin getting similarly outfitted. Only he didn't mess around with a measly .44. No siree, he went for the biggest and baddest gun I had ever seen. I had heard about them, but had never before seen a Raging Bull Cassull .454 before. It was made by Taurus Firearms, and was basically a cut down big game rifle found in a titanium alloy, K- Frame pistol, with Santoprene grips. It was in a matte grey finish, and didn't reflect a photon of light. I noticed it seemed to have been modified, and wondered if this was his own personal weapon. It had Magna porting all along it's 8.375 inch barrel, and Partridge type, front micrometer click, adjustable rear sights. The gun was a revolver, and could only hold five rounds, but what rounds they were. 360 grain hot loads that would punch through an engine block, and then the next three houses it encountered. I whistled at the sight of it. Chaffin looked over at me and grinned. He next drew a 14 inch hunting knife, with the same adaptations my own Kaber had. I had seen knives this size called Arkansas tooth picks. If they were, then I didn't want to run into the guys picking their teeth with them. As I turned from Chaffin, I almost bumped into Master Lao. He was the only man I knew who could sneak up on me now. Startled, I almost dropped my duffle. "Master Lao," I said, bowing deeply to hide my embarrassment at my reaction. "Have you come to see me off?" Now, looking at him, you would expect him to have some sing song, hokey, Chinese accent. Instead, he had a rich baritone voice, cultured, and without a trace of accent. His voice reminded me of Tony Randall. "No, Lee, the good Sgt. and I are going with you. The team we are going to was heavily hit on it's last mission, and they could use some additional buttressing." I knew all team members had to have some special 'talents' or other adaptations that gave them an edge that not all the training in the world could give. Master Lao I could believe. He looked ancient, yet moved with a grace and power that I had never seen. He could drive his stiffened fingers through a leather bag holding 300 lbs. of sand as easily as you might do the same to a tissue paper. He was the only one at the training base who had ever managed to score a blow on me. Despite his power, I had barely felt it, but I HAD felt it, and he had scored the blow. "It was very careless of the organization to allow a Naga to infiltrate this base. Don't you think so, Lee? It is hard to believe that either their medical personnel or their pet psychic's did not detect it for what it truly was." The odd change in topic threw me for a moment. What was he saying? Did he know something I didn't about the Naga? Did they let the thing in on purpose, or were they so careless that it slipped through. Either way, I began to feel as if there was a target painted on my back. I would have to be very careful from now on. I started to ask about this, when we were advised that our transport had arrived. I never got a chance to talk to Master Lao alone during the transport to our new temporary headquarters. But I vowed that as soon as I got the chance, he and I were going to have a very serious talk. As we left Tennessee, enroute to Kentucky in the large motor home that was provided to transport both our group and our gear, I couldn't help but wonder what the future held in store for me. Worried? Me? Nah, after all, what does a monster on a team of monster hunters have to worry about? After all, the team wouldn't be hunting me...I hoped. When we arrived, I found myself staring at an old southern type antebellum mansion. Inside, I met the team leader and the rest of the "team", one Cora Jansen. The team leader was a big, and by big, I mean huge, bear of a man who went by the name of Dan Johnson. He was 6'8" and at least 320 lbs. of solid man. His hair was red, as was his full beard. His eyes were a kind of washed out green, and they seemed to twinkle when he talked. His voice was well suited to his body. Big and booming. He was built on the heavy side, though by no means fat. He reminded me of nothing so much as a humanoid bear. Cora, on the other hand, was a rather nondescript woman. Mid sized, moderate figure, mousy brown hair, and brown eyes. She seemed so unremarkable, that at first I didn't even notice her. I found out later on that not being noticed was her special gift. If she remained quiet and unobtrusive, you just didn't seem to notice her. I could understand that on sight, but what about sound and smell? Until I had been introduced to her, I hadn't heard her or smelled her. Weird. After we all got settled into our rather lavish rooms, we met in what used to be the library. The carpet was thick and lush in there, and seemed to hush the sounds of movement. The room was done in beige colors with darker shaded, heavy drapes hanging in front of the almost floor to ceiling windows. The bookshelves still held the rows upon rows of old, leather bound books that must have sat there for many years. Had the house come fully furnished? Did it belong to the organization? Too many questions, and not enough answers by half. A large mahogany table was covered with maps and charts. Dan waved us all over to it. It seemed we were located near a city in Kentucky called Allensville. Our objective was to check out a breeding ranch nearby. It was called Worthington Stables. The name fairly dripped money. It seems that some of the local citizens had gone missing recently. All men. The only thing tying them all together was a trip to Worthington Stables within a month of their deaths. "What do you all know about the mares of Diomedes?" Dan's face was dead serious as he asked us about our knowledge of mythical horses. Of course, a few months ago, I would have said a Naga was a mythical creature also. So who was I to judge? "The mares of Diomedes were a herd kept by King Diomedes, who lived in Thrace, near the mouth of the Nestus River. Diomedes, of the Bistones, I believe, fed the mares on human flesh. Gradually, he bred most of the characteristics associated with horses out of them, save for their form, strength and speed. They had flashing red eyes and sharp needle-like teeth. Herakles had to capture the herd as one of his twelve labors. He drove them away, but had to turn back and deal with pursuers sent by King Diomedes. When he did, he left the horses with his current 'boyfriend', Abderus. The mares devoured the lad. When Herakles returned, he was incensed. After producing the herd, he killed Diomedes and fed him to his own mares. This supposedly changed them all into docile horses again, which he released near Tiryus." I looked at Master Lao with my mouth hanging open. Who would have guessed he would be such a font of knowledge about Greek myths? Oriental I could understand, but Greek? "Thanks, Lao, you are spot on with that." Hearing Dan say spot on seemed as incongruous as Lao's knowledge of ancient mythology. My, but weren't we all just full of surprises today. "However, one mare had wandered away from the herd before Hercules returned." I noticed Dan preferred the Roman pronunciation of the legendary hero's name. To each their own. "At least, that is what the researchers, and psychic's at headquarters, have indicated. It seems this mare was young and inexperienced. She got separated, and was soon lost. She must have wandered for many days, finally finding her way to the edge of the sea. At this point she must have been near starvation. Remember, she could only eat human flesh. Or at least, humanoid flesh." I didn't much care for the way Dan looked up at me when he said the word "humanoid". But then, no one was asking how I felt about much these days. "There is a very localized and little known legend of one of the Siren's. It told of how she was a particular favorite of Poseidon, and liked to sun herself on a lonely little beach. We believe this mare found her way there one day while the Siren was present. She must have somehow been able to attack and overpower the Siren, and consume her flesh. Just how, we will never know. It is a well known fable that if you eat the flesh of a mermaid, you become immortal." "Okay," I said. "Let's say this happened just that way. So the flesh eating horse could be alive today. But how did such a creature end up in Kentucky, on a snooty horse farm, with nobody noticing that she had a peculiar look? Not to mention her dietary requirements." Dan smiled at me. "That's where the legend gets really interesting. It seems Poseidon found out, and cursed the mare. She would become human in form. Pleasing and comely, he made her the twin of the dead Siren, but with two perfectly formed human legs. He erased her memory of what she was. She would wander the earth, always drawn to horses. Being such a babe, she would be a natural man magnet. But whenever she began to get interested in a man, the next full moon would transform her again into the flesh devouring horse, who would then consume her lover. The next morning, the girl would have no memory of what had happened, and would believe that the man had been untrue and had deserted her." "How incredibly cruel," I muttered to myself. "The ancient god's were petty and cruel," Chaffin intoned in a voice like a television announcer. I was glad that I wasn't the only one who gave him a peculiar look. "Tonight is the true full moon for this month, so we need to be in position well before nightfall. When the latest young swain comes a-calling at Worthington Stables, to see their recently hired young female groom, we will waylay him and force the horse to come to us." "You believe, then, that this young woman is the cursed immortal horse?" Master Lao made even obvious questions seem somehow important. "Yes. She is the only random element in this. The disappearances started about one month after she arrived. She is said to be quiet, with a voice like liquid velvet." Dan's description made it almost sound like risking getting chomped on by her would be worth it. Almost. So we weren't even going to get any time to acclimate ourselves to our new teammates, before we had to get the truth 'straight from the horse's mouth', as it were. A pun as bad as that should have made me feel better. Of course, I was going out with a group that I didn't really know two-fifth's of, to face an ancient and allegedly immortal demonic horse that ate human flesh. Hey, why should I worry. I was the only one on the team that wasn't really human any more. How lucky can one guy get? Chapter 6 (WITH SIX YOU GET EGGROLL) The plan was simple enough, though it did reveal some things I never would have suspected about Sgt. Chaffin. It seems he was the great great great Grandson of an ancient Shaman. A man who could talk with the spirits and command them. He could tell them to go here and to go there...and they would. Like ethereal will o' the wisps bound to his will. Sgt. Chaffin had inherited much of his ancient Grandsire's prowess. Additionally, he was an almost supernatural tracker. He was said to be able to track a single snowflake through a blizzard. Who knew that such a quiet guy was so deep? Cora was going to stand by the van at the front gate to Worthington Stables, with the hood up. When the young swain (a Mr. J. Bently Steele, electric guitarist for a locally popular Pop/Rock Band) approached, she would flag him down for assistance. Being the southern gentleman that he was, he would have no choice but to stop. Then Dan and I would bag him, gag him, and stuff him in the van. While I stood guard over the young serving of horse chow, Dan would man the flame thrower (a last ditch weapon that none of the group seemed to have much faith in), Chaffin would set up a power circle - but not quiet close it, and Master Lao would...would...well, I really wasn't quite sure what he would do. But whatever it was, I would hate to be the guy he did it to. At dusk we were all in position. The "ranch", as I thought of it, was beautiful. A thick carpet of the deepest green grass I had ever seen stretched as far as the eye could see. Funny, I always thought the grass in Kentucky was supposed to be blue. Real split rail fences surrounded much of it. The gate was modern and electric, with one of those pads you entered a series of numbers in to release the latch. The outbuildings, I could see, were whitewashed to within an inch of their lives. How could you keep buildings so white, with hundreds of animals and people going in and out of them all the time? The horses were spectacular. Glistening coats of ebony, roan, and cream covered rippling masses of muscles. They had a regal air that belied their station in life as beasts of burden. A keen intelligence seemed to spark and flare in their dark eyes. I was lost in their majesty and magnificence. "They are incredible, are they not?" Lao's voice was as soft as a rose petal against my ears. "I never appreciated horses before." "It is a rare thing in life to have a moment to reflect on the true beauty of the world around us. Many cultures believed that horses were the vehicles that the Gods used to communicate with man. Some say that only the horse knows the true path to Heaven." His smile was as gentle as a June bride at the declaration of her beloved's troth. I had never seen this side of him. A remarkable combination. The iron hand in the velvet glove, perhaps? Or just the man within the living weapon. I hoped we would all live long enough for me to find out. "He's coming!" Dan called us to our duty. I hid behind the van, out of sight. Cora looked suitably pathetic and helpless beside the supposedly stalled vehicle. Young Mr. Steele didn't have a chance. The plan went off flawlessly. Chaffin dug in his medicine bag, and began to sprinkle a strange dust around in a circle. He was chanting in an eerie singsong voice as he hopped about. It would have looked comical, if the situation wasn't so serious. In the night, I heard a high pitched whinny. Down the path, through the gloaming dusk, came a vision out of some aberrant God's dream. I had thought she would be black. She wasn't. She was a brilliant white with flint grey hooves. Her mane whipped wildly in the wind as she ran, and her eyes glowed red. The air around her seemed to ripple like heat waves off of a roadway in August. Your eyes kept wanting to slide to the side, and it made my stomach cramp and lurch. I was suddenly glad I hadn't had time to eat. Down the road she came, and time seemed to slow. She was eighteen hands high at the shoulder. She was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life. On some level, I realized that it was partially the magic of the Siren, but in that moment...I just didn't care. Oh, Odysseus, how did you endure, and not go mad? Fortunately, not all of us were waxing rhapsodic at that moment. She entered the circle, and Chaffin closed it. Blue light seemed to flare all around her. She reared and whinnied in distress. I wanted to go to her. To help her...my life...my...my love? No. NO! I shook my head and the spell was broken. If she could do that to me as a horse, then what could she do as a woman? No wonder poor Mr. Steele was helpless to resist her charms. She strained at the wards that bound her within the circle of power. She gnashed her teeth, and her coat was rapidly lathered with the effort. Chaffin stood to the side, still chanting. Sweat poured from his face as if a hose was attached to the back of his head, turned on full. He was trembling with the effort of holding the immortal beast captive within his circle. Dan stood ready with the flame thrower if Chaffin should fall. Where Lao was, I had no idea. Then she looked directly at me. Something responded deep within me. I could feel it roil and rage within the confines of my body. Heat shimmered off of me in waves, and I was drenched in a second in my own perspiration. I could feel something slide behind my eyes and beneath my skin. The beast had just heard the dinner bell, and wanted freedom to dine. My guts clenched, and felt like I had swallowed hot coals. I began to shake, droplets of sweat flying off of me in