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“The Goddess? Do you mean the Great Serpent Mother?” the High Priestess exclaimed. “Because I have served her all my life, Agent Sky’lar, and I assure you that she is not in the habit of speaking directly to her children.”
No, but the Kindred Goddess is. That felt right too. Somehow Sky knew that it was the Kindred deity who had talked to her—who had woken her and warned her.
Just then there was a knocking on the door.
“Is everyone all right in there?” a familiar voice called. “This is Lunk’or—just checking because I heard a noise,” it added.
“There—you see? There’s no danger—Lunk’or is still on duty, guarding us all,” the High Priestess said.
“Oh, Lunk’or…it’s just Lunk’or.” Neen’ya and Soon’ya both visibly relaxed, looking greatly relieved.
“That’s not Lunk’or—that’s not your guard,” Sky told them. “You have to trust me,” she told the High Priestess. “Your life is in danger—all our lives are in danger!”
“Don’t be silly, Agent Sky’lar—you must have had a bad dream,” the High Priestess said, flickering her tongue. “Look—I’ll open the door and you’ll see that it’s just Lunk’or and then we can all go back to sleep.”
“No!” Sky exclaimed. “No, don’t—”
But before she could finish the sentence, the High Priestess called,
“Open!” in the same authoritative voice she’d called for the lights.
The voice activated door swung inward, hampered only slightly by the crumpled up rug Sky had pushed under it to cover the crack.
There stood what appeared to be the Head Guard—Lunk’or, still wearing his silver armor and looking at them mildly.
“Everything okay in here, Your Holiness?” he asked.
“There—see? It’s just Lunk’or,” the High Priestess exclaimed.
Sky’s hand was sweating as she reached down into her boot. At first her fingers slipped and she sliced her index finger on the blade she kept concealed there, but she barely felt the small pain. On her second try she grasped the handle and drew it slowly out of her boot.
“Agent Sky’lar, whatever are you doing?” the High Priestess demanded. “I told you—that’s just Lunk’or!”
Sky took a closer look at the Head Guard. There was black goo in the edges of the shiny silver armor. A warm presence surrounded her and a voice whispered in her ear,
“Trust your instincts, Daughter!”
Striding forward, Sky thrust the super-sharp blade upward, directly through the Serpentine guard’s throat—the only place where the armor didn’t hide his flesh.
For a moment, she thought she’d made a horrible mistake. There were three cries of horror from behind her as the High Priestess and her acolytes clustered on the floating cloud mattress.
“Oh, Mother of All Serpents! She’ killed him—she killed Lunk’or!” she heard Soon’ya gasp.
But then the Serpentine face in front of her began to bubble and run like hot wax. To Sky’s horror, she saw it was reforming itself into another image—a white face with black eyes and black lips was grinning back at her.
“Surprise!” the killer hissed.
FORTY-EIGHT
TORIN
Torin ran blindly through the long stone corridors of the Shrine. Where were they? Where would Sky’lar be? Had the killer already gotten to her? Was he too late? Was she already dead?
His feet were pounding, echoing against the stone walls and he felt like he was in a nightmare, endlessly running but not knowing where he was going. Should he call out for her—try to warn her? But what if that warned the killer too? What was he supposed to do?
“Keep going, Warrior—you are almost there! They are deep within the Shrine!”
It was the Goddess again, and Torin could feel her guiding him. He leaned into the feeling—going where he felt the feminine presence wanted him to be.
Oh please! he prayed as he ran. Just let me get to her in time…
FORTY-NINE
SKY
Sky stared in horror at the white face looming over her own like a diseased moon. The eyes were dead and black with a spot as red as blood in each one, where the pupil ought to be. The teeth, still bared in a grin, were all monstrous, sharp fangs—with black ooze between each one.
Her dagger was still buried to the hilt in the killer’s throat, but this didn’t seem to bother him a bit. Indeed, the stuff he was made of began oozing down her dagger hilt, as though he was using it as a bridge to get to her.
Sky didn’t notice—she was horrified and mesmerized by the eyes staring back into hers. Eyes filled with hatred for all women everywhere, but especially women in power. Women who had “gotten above their place” and “needed to be taught a lesson.”
She didn’t know how she knew these things—somehow the horrible black eyes with their blood-spot pupils told her. The thing in front of her hated all things feminine and wished them death and destruction and decay. He wanted to inflict pain and horror and…
Something that burned and stung was sliding over her skin.
