Oblivion
by Part 5
by Lyraine
E-Mail: lyraine@yahoo.com
Chapter Five
The lust had risen like a bloody
tide, as strong and inexorable in its way as the hunger had been. David spun
through a vortex of sensation, lost to consciousness. There was only the feel
of the woman in his arms, her silken skin beneath his hands and the liquid fire
of her touch. She tightened around him like a glove, caressing and squeezing as
he rocked back and forth in long, deep strokes. There was no sound at all, but
for the thunder of his heart and the rushing of hot blood through his veins. The
scent of her permeated his soul, teasing, inflaming him further. Her heartbeat
pounded, throbbing against his questing lips, filling him with a need to
consume her. The taste of her flesh under his tongue drove him past the edge of
reason. With perfect synchronicity, her sank fangs deeply into his throat in
the same instant his bit down into her jugular. The essence of her seared
through him, changing him, blinding him momentarily. For a single blazing
instant they were one, melding, burning; two forces building to completion. Wildfire
burned, raging through them, leaving both spent and shaking.
They tore themselves from one
another, their unnatural lust sated. As passion faded to nothing, the horror of
his actions crowded in on David. There was no escaping what was left of his
conscience. He could not bring himself to spare even a glance for the lifeless
bodies in the henge. Something in him shattered and died; maybe the last
forlorn glimmer of hope, maybe the last spark of humanity. He would never find
peace; never feel the beautiful oblivion of death. Anne had taken his soul as
surely as his body, leaving him forever torn asunder.
He agonized over the last few
days, realizing that he had given Anne exactly what she had asked of him. Her
demon child was a certainty now. He could already feel it growing inside her,
pulsing strongly with inhuman life. He knew that he would have to take it from
her, that he could not allow such an abomination to flourish. The child he'd
always dreamed of, the child that he had been unable to have with Meredith,
grew now in the womb of a monster. He could not bear the thought. This child,
his child, would die before it drew a single, independent breath.
He wept uncontrollably then,
accepting no solace or consolation. Finally, Anne left him to his grief and
went hunting on her own. Much to her surprise, he was still lying motionless in
the cool, damp grass when she returned just before dawn. When she held out a
hand to him, he took it in his without a word. His movements were stiff and
mechanical, and his eyes were dead, completely void of expression. It was as if
all sense of warmth or life had been driven from him.
He followed Anne back into the
crypt, then flopped carelessly into one of the huge chairs. Stark naked but for
his cloak, he made no effort to cover himself, no pretense of false modesty. The
cold stillness in his eyes chilled even Anne as he watched her every movement
without blinking. His eyes were predatory, and his attention never wavered. It
made her hair stand on end, an effect she was not used to. She could almost
feel him thinking; feel his thoughts upon her as if he stripped away the thin
veneer of her civilization and knew her for a ravening beast.
It was only in her uneasiness that
she realized the enormity of what she had done. It was unthinkable, raising a
male to the Anakarre. There had been a reason why they had never taken a male
into their numbers. She should have known better; instead, she had let rage
blind her. Meredith had been her first daughter of body, her only child ever
born of love. In unthinking, intractable grief, she had done the only thing she
had ever forbidden to the Anakarre. Now, oath-broken, her life would be
forfeit.
It was a reasonable price. Millennia
ago there had been both males and females of her race, or at least of her
ancestors. The males had been savage, uncontrollable brutes given to berserk
rages and cruel fancies. Solitary by nature, they had ravaged their lands,
stripping them clear of human life. Devoid of food, they had begun to
infighting, devouring one another. They had been so vicious that some of the
younger females had splintered off, vowing never to bring a male to live among
them. This was what had allowed them to survive while the rest of their race
perished. Under Anne's rule, they had held that oath as law for centuries. She
had violated the sacred vow, and now David appeared to be well into the first
stages of the Rage.
Her daughters would be Hunting her
soon. They had a sworn duty to fulfill. Death was the only penalty for breaking
clan law. She would not make it easy for them, but they would win in the end. Their
numbers were to great for her to resist alone. Desperately she tried to think
of a solution. With this new life growing beneath her ribs, she had no desire
for death. For the first time in centuries, she actually had something to look
forward to. Somehow, she had to live to enjoy it. Rage built behind her eyes,
then died abruptly as if checked by some outside force. Anne shook off the
bizarre thought, she'd have to find time to puzzle it out later.
David's anger was a direct result
of her meddling. In her implacable fury, she had pushed him too far; tormenting
and torturing him to the brink of rage. Her only hope now was to hold the anger
from him; find some way to rekindle warmth and emotion. It would take all her
skill at deception, but perhaps she could reclaim the situation somehow. Coldly
rational in her thoughts, she knew what it would take to rectify her mistake
before it was discovered. Gathering her thoughts to her, she moved carefully,
aware of the fine line she trod. If David had sunk too far into the Rage to
listen, the game was already over. This could so easily blow up in her face,
damning them all. If his rage exploded, there would be no stopping him, no
going back. He would become a barbarous monster, incapable of compassion or
conscience. She had to make him believe there was hope.
She could only trust that his
modern upbringing had allowed him to hold to some small shred of sensitivity,
something that would combat his innate male aggression. Mankind had changed a
lot over the last several centuries, becoming far less brutal. With any luck at
all, that change would be enough. "David." She spoke softly, her tone
as reassuring as she could make it. It took all she had not to let loose the
rage she felt rising in her. It never occurred to her to wonder why she tried. "What
are you thinking?"
He looked at her silently for a
moment then laughed bitterly. "Thinking? To think would be to live, to be
human. There is no thought left in me now. I am the creature of your revenge, a
vicious beast." The timbre of his voice was rough, oddly abrasive, and
tinged with madness.
"That's not true, you know."
Her reproach was mild, but brooked no argument. "You have an eternity
ahead of you now. Find the joy in it, the wonder. It still exists; you have but
to touch it. Reach out and the world can yet be yours." She strove to make
him see the endless maze of possibilities. It went against every fiber of her
being not to just strike him down, but once again, something held her back. It
was beginning to annoy her.
David pointedly turned his back
and faced away from her, physically repudiating her statement. "Dress it
up with all your pretty words, its still a tapestry of lies. You made me what I
am out of spite. You meant it as a curse, not a gift, and so it has been
received. There is no wonder left in me; just horror, cold and dark. You've
left no shred of life for me to hold, no hope."
Anne saw the faintest flicker of
doubt go through his eyes before he looked away from her. She made no comment,
but she could feel the stirring of promise as she realized that the battle was
not completely lost. He still owned some small scrap of reason; she just had to
find and nurture it. If she did the job well enough, she could set him free
before her children even knew what she had done. A fleeting thought crossed her
mind and was gone before she could grasp it. It was the merest whisper of a
notion; she could have just killed him, thus destroying any evidence. Deep
inside her, the nascent embryo shifted, settling itself to wait, radiating smug
contentment.
•••
(c) M.C.
Sak 1999