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The Bloodsong Experiment

Page 9

by Mariam Al-Masri

Perhaps I had calmed him down a bit too much. Still, I had enough foresight to ask, “What happened to the rest of Cathor’s barrier-men?”

“Some were killed by the abnormalities and others are too injured, receiving emergency medical care in the mines.” Without my assistance, Yareth once more looked away.

Mindreading, however, was not my gift. He also refused to open up a telepathic channel and likely would not without my verbal agreement. If I wanted to continue my charade, I had no choice but to agree to something so obviously complicated.

“I’ve changed my mind,” my lips said in rebellion of what I should be saying, but I saved myself by adding, “I’ll go if you be my eyes.”

The air began to reek of Yareth’s perspiration. “Your eyes?” he asked.

“Yes. With your gift it will expedite the cleanup. More to the point, I have research and experimentations and other matters of greater importance.”

“Like your newfound interest in obstetrics?”

“Something like that,” I said.

“Then if I must.” Interesting, no usual fight nor disagreement or even a grumble about needing to return home to his mate and sons. Did he perhaps wish for the suggestion I just made to come from me? Why? Just what was he planning? What did Shareth have on him?

It made no difference; neither of us had a choice in the matter. I would go, just as Yareth would go because to do otherwise would be to invite inquiry and trouble. Maybe that was why I had fostered a collegial relationship with Yareth for so long.

We were the same, him and I: trapped.

* * *

“What, no commentary?” he of the shadows asked.

The woman yawned. “This one sounds like a bore.”

“What if I said that he weeps?”

She grinned ear to ear. “Now that would be interesting.”

Chapter 3

The Sound of Freedom Was a Lot Like Death

The Musician

When I returned to my room after a much-needed shower and change of clothes, there was something odd about my cabin. It wasn’t that my handlers were gone. With escape near hopeless and my agreeable nature recognized, the two had taken to extracurricular activities with one of the human male train attendants in whatever train corner they could find. Nor was the oddness related to the chatter, laughter and snoring seeping in from the neighboring rooms. Cabin walls were thin.

My eyes trailed to my violin case—upon my bed exactly where I had laid it. Unconsciously, I opened the case to find it untouched, not so much as a single hair on my bow out of place. Then what was it?

I almost lost my footing when the train car shook. Steadying myself, I discovered my cabin door had closed. My eyes scanned the room once more for any discrepancies with my memory. The piece of fabric the nameless blood slave used to tie her hair into a bonnet at night was on the little desk next to her bed. My empty tray from breakfast was still on my own desk, meaning the blood slave making rounds hadn’t entered.

These details did nothing to quell the sheer sense of wrongness overwhelming me. Like any rational human being, I grabbed my violin case and made my way for the door, fully intending to spend the rest of the day in my handlers’ company, no matter how uncomfortable my accent made them.

My hand unlatched the lock I didn’t remember setting, but when I tried to open the door, it wouldn’t budge. I tried once, twice and even thrice but there was no movement. I lifted my free hand, prepared to hit it, but unclenched my fingers at the last second. They were too important. If whoever did this wanted to harm me, the damage would have already been done.

I revolved back to where I’d came from, prepared to forego my planned practice session and sleep off whatever was going on, but I was met with the obstacle. The perpetrator had revealed him-self. This was a normal passenger train, but the strigaix guarding me had threatened any other male away from me. On further reflection, the man lazing around on my bed looked nothing like either a human or strigaix male. What was he? More importantly, why was he bothering me? From the door, I tried to inspect him further.

Skin as dark as the deep expanse of space.

Eyes as bright as starlight. Hair like tendrils of shadow.

All features held the reflection of light. Even in an area which should have been dark, he shone with a brilliance that was beyond mortal.

Before I could think to speak, he said, “What a lovely description. I’ll be sure to implant it in your suitor when I meet him later.”

“My suitor?” I said. That word shouldn’t have been in my vocabulary. How did I know it? I frowned at the thing masquerading as a man. “How can I understand you?”