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The princess leaned into him, her forefinger rubbing over the barb at the base of his arousal. "Whoever that female is in your head, she can't compete with what we have."
Rehv put his hands up to the sides of his blackmailer's neck and pressed in with his thumbs until she gasped. "I could snap your head off your spine."
"You won't." She moved her red, glossy lips over his throat, the crushed-pepper lipstick she wore burning him. "Because we couldn't do this if I were dead."
"Don't underestimate the appeal of necrophilia. Especially where you're concerned." He grabbed onto the back of her chignon and yanked hard. "Shall we get down to business?"
"After you pick up-"
"Not going to happen. I don't bow." With his free hand, he ripped the front of her robe open, exposing the fine mesh weave of the bodysuit she always wore. Spinning her around, he forced her face-first into the door, fishing up through the folds of red satin as she gasped. The weave she wore over herself was soaked in scorpion venom, and as he worked toward her core, the poison soaked in through his skin. Hopefully, he could f**k her for a while with her robes still on-
The princess dematerialized out of his grip and re-formed right at the window Trez could see through. In a shifting rush, her robes left her, removed by her will, her flesh revealed. She was built like the snake she was, sinewy, and altogether too thin, her shimmering bodysuit giving the impression of scales as the moonlight reflected off its interlocking threads.
Her feet were planted on either side of the bag of rubies.
"You're going to worship me," she said, her hand going in between her thighs and stroking her slit. "With your mouth."
Rehv came over and got down on his knees. Looking up at her, he said with a smile, "And you will be the one who picks up that bag."
Chapter EIGHTEEN
Ehlena stood just outside the clinic's morgue, arms banded around her chest, heart in her throat, prayers leaving her lips. In spite of her uniform, she was not waiting in any kind of professional capacity, and the STAFF ONLY sign that was at eye level barred her as much as it would have anyone in regular clothes. As the minutes passed slow as centuries, she stared at the letters as if she'd forgotten how to read. The word staff was on one half of the doors, the only on the other. Big red block print. Underneath the English was a translation in the Old Language.
Alix had just gone through them, with Havers at his side.
Please...not Stephan. Please let the John Doe not be Stephan.
The wail that filtered through the STAFF ONLY doors had her shutting her eyes hard enough to make her head spin.
She hadn't been stood up after all.
Ten minutes later, Alix came out, his face white, the stretch underneath both eyes red from his having wiped away many tears. Havers was right behind him, the physician looking equally heartbroken.
Ehlena stepped forward and took Alix into her arms. "I am so sorry."
"How...how can I tell his parents...They didn't want me to come down here... Oh, God..."
Ehlena held the male's shuddering body until Alix straightened and dragged both hands across his face. "He was looking forward to going out with you."
"And I with him."
Havers put his hand on Alix's shoulder. "Do you want to take him with you?"
The male looked back at the doors, his mouth flattening into a slash. "We're going to want to get started on the...death ritual...but..."
"Would you like me to wrap him?" Havers said softly.
Alix closed his eyes and nodded. "We can't let his mother see his face. It would kill her. And I would do it except..."
"We'll take excellent care of him," Ehlena said. "You can trust us to take care of him with respect and reverence."
"I don't think I could..." Alix looked over. "Is it bad of me?"
"No." She held both his hands. "And I promise you, we'll do it with love."
"But I should assist-"
"You can trust us." As the male blinked quickly, Ehlena gently led him away from the morgue doors. "I want you to go wait in one of the family rooms."
Ehlena walked Stephan's cousin down the corridor to the hallway that had patient rooms running off it. As another nurse passed by, Ehlena asked that he be taken to a private waiting room, and then she returned to the morgue.
Before she entered, she took a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. Pushing inside, she smelled herbs and saw Havers standing by a body covered by a white sheet. Ehlena's stride faltered.
"My heart is heavy," the physician said. "So heavy. I didn't want that poor boy to see his blooded family like this, but he insisted after he identified the clothes. He had to see."
"Because he had to be sure." It was what she would have needed in the same situation.
Havers lifted the sheet, folding it back to the chest, and Ehlena clapped a palm over her mouth to keep her gasp in.
Stephan's beaten, mottled face was nearly unrecognizable.
She swallowed once. And again. And a third time.
Dearest Virgin Scribe, he'd been alive twenty-four hours ago. Alive and downtown and looking forward to seeing her. Then a wrong choice to go one way and not another and he ended up here, lying on a cold, stainless-steel bed, about to be prepared for his death ritual.
"I'll get the wraps," Ehlena said roughly as Havers took the sheet completely off the body.
The morgue was small, with only eight refrigerated units and two examination tables, but it was well stocked with equipment and supplies. The ceremonial wraps were kept in the closet by the desk, and as she opened the door, a fresh waft of herbs drifted out. The linen strips were three inches wide and came in rolls that were the size of two of Ehlena's fists. Soaked in a combination of rosemary, lavender, and sea salt, they let out a pleasant enough smell that nonetheless made her recoil every time she caught a whiff of it.
Death. It was the smell of death.
She took out ten rolls and stacked them in her arms, then returned to where Stephan's body was fully exposed, only a cloth over his loins.
After a moment, Havers came out of a changing room in the back wearing a black robe tied with a black sash. Around his neck, suspended on a long, heavy silver chain, was a sharp-edged, ornate cutting tool that was so old, the filigree work on the handset had blackened nooks within its curvilinear design.
Ehlena bowed her head as Havers said the requisite prayers to the Scribe Virgin for Stephan's peaceful rest within the tender embrace of the Fade. When the doctor was ready, she handed him the first of the scented rolls and they started with Stephan's right hand, as was proper. With every gentleness and care, she held the cold, gray limb aloft as Havers wrapped the flesh tightly, doubling up the linen strip upon itself. When they worked their way up to his shoulder, they moved to the right leg; then it was left hand, left arm, left leg next.
As the loincloth was lifted, Ehlena turned away, as was required because she was female. In the event of a female body, she would not have had to, although a male assistant would have done so out of respect. After the hips were wrapped, the torso was bound up to the chest and the shoulders covered.
With each pass of the linen, the scent of the herbs hit her nose anew until she felt like she couldn't breathe.
Or maybe it wasn't the smell in the air; it was more the thoughts in her head. Had he been her future? Would she have known his body? Could this have been her hellren and the father of her young?
Questions that would never be answered.
Ehlena frowned. No, actually, they had all been answered.
Each one of them with a no.
As she handed another roll to the race's physician, she wondered whether Stephan had lived a full, satisfying life.
No, she thought. He'd been gypped. Totally gypped.
Cheated.
The face was the last to get covered, and she held up Stephan's head as the doctor slowly wound the linen around and around. Ehlena's breath was hard in coming, and just as Havers covered the eyes, one tear left her own and landed on the white wrap.
Havers put his hand on her shoulder briefly and then finished the job.
The salt in the fibers of the linen worked as a sealant so no fluids seeped through the weave, and the mineral also preserved the body for entombment. The herbs served an obvious function in the short term to mask any odor, but they were also emblematic of the fruits of the earth and cycles of growth and death.
With a curse, she went back to the closet and retrieved a black shroud, which she and Havers used to wrap Stephan up. The outer black was to symbolize the corruptible mortal flesh, the inner white the soul's purity and incandescence within its eternal home in the Fade.
