The hunger rolled inside her, commanding her to move with greater speed. Prey lay everywhere, but which should she choose? Which would scream the loudest and be the tastiest as their fear flowed from them in waves? Her gaze raked over the waiting choices.
That one—that one would do nicely.
With the decision, she changed direction, the dirt crumbling beneath her large claws. There, in the larger of the clustered houses—an enclosed gaggle of prey.
Without slowing she plowed through the wooden door barring the entrance, sending splinters flying. Startled screams heralded her arrival. Two older prey turned shocked faces to stare, but what drew her attention the most were the eight young, tender tidbits.
Saliva dripped from her maw to the floor and bubbled there. Savoring the anticipation of the coming feast one moment longer, the waves of fear rising deliciously around her, she leapt forward.
Razor-sharp claws swept left and right. Cries of pain and screams of terror filled her ears like music as streams of red splashed in rapid strokes against the floor and walls. The scent of blood made her nostrils flare with ecstasy. The rapture surged as she sank her fangs into the moist and oh-so-tender flesh…
* * * *
La’tiera’s scream rang in the enclosed space, merging with the voices of the victims in her nightmare. A quickly fading greenish glow showed her dilated eyes that she was still in the wagon.
The taste of blood was in her mouth; she felt it cooling on her hands. She had killed them, killed them all. Her stomach retched, hot acid rising in her throat.
“La’tiera?”
Something warm touched her arm, and she almost screamed again.
“Child, it’s me—Bentel.”
La’tiera pulled away, her breath coming and going in harsh gasps. The door to the wagon flew open. The stars and streaming moonlight brought light into the dark interior, but also enshrouded the form filling the doorway in shadow.
“What’s happened? What’s wrong?”
Dal’s panicked voice pulled at her attention. What was he doing there? How did he come so quickly? Could he have been sleeping just outside her door? She felt comforted and angered by the thought. It helped drive the images of her visions back where they belonged.
She couldn’t stop her hands from shaking.
“She’s all right. It was only a nightmare,” Bentel explained.
“Are you sure?” He stepped farther into the wagon, as if needing to verify it for himself.
“Dal, there was a light,” Bentel’s voice was almost a whisper. “The Eye…”
La’tiera pulled her sheet up to her chin. Bentel was right, there had been a light. But what did it have to do with her visions or the Eye?
Suddenly, the doorway was crowded with the other members of the troupe, Rostocha at the forefront.
“What’s going on?”
La’tiera shrank into herself, not used to attracting this many people’s attention.
Dal answered. “She’s had a vision. Bentel said she saw a light.”
“I see.” Rostocha relaxed, though he threw La’tiera a pitying look. “I don’t think they will have heard the scream at the village, but I’ll take care of anyone who might decide to come take a look.”
He turned around to face the others as Aya finally was able to wriggle past enough of them to get a look inside.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, little one. It was just a bad nightmare.” He picked her up then looked at the others. “The rest of you go on back to bed.” He shooed them out of his way.
Bentel stood up. “I have some wine in one of the other wagons. Let me get you some to drink.” She eyed Dal, who had yet to head for the door. “You’ll stay with her?”
“Yes.” He never took his eyes off La’tiera.
Bentel nodded, satisfied, then left. Dal sat down on the vacated bed, moving his loose hair back over his shoulder. La’tiera said nothing, but was grateful for his presence.
“Was it very bad?” He asked the question very quietly.
She didn’t answer him.
“With the time so close at hand, it must have been very vivid.”
“How do you…?”
“Know? The Order keeps records of each of the Bearers. I read a number of them during my training.”
She glanced at him in surprise. He’d read accounts of others like her? But she’d been told…
Lies, all he said must be lies—only another scheme to get her to do what they wanted. She turned her face away.
His quiet voice reached for her again from across the wagon. “We were taught that the visions are part of the cycle, part of the covenant the Gods made with the demons. It’s a way for the demons to put fear into the Bearer, so he or she won’t resist them when the time comes—to speak to the Bearer’s inner demon, to entice them with the power that is theirs to command and which they might share if the Bearer doesn’t interfere.”
How could he know these things?
“You need to stay strong, La’tiera.”
“I am strong,” she replied hotly. “These horrors only serve to shore up my resolve, not weaken it. I will die when the time comes.”
“No!”
His protest brought her up short.
“That’s what they want. That’s how they win. If you don’t fight to live, if you’re paralyzed with fear or give yourself willingly to them, the gate will remain open and the world will be theirs. Then all your nightmares will be reality.”
“No. You’re wrong.” How many times would they have to go over this foolishness? “Whether you take me back where I belong or not, when the time comes I will do what’s right.”
Suddenly, he was there, right beside her. So close she could feel the heat radiating from his body. Here in the darkness, alone, it felt intimate in a way it hadn’t during their dancing. She didn’t understand what she was feeling as her heart beat loudly.
“You’re meant to live, not die. The Gods are not that cruel. I’ve seen it.” His voice was low, his face almost touching hers, as if by sheer proximity he could get her to accept his point.
Before she could ask him what he meant by his last remark, they were no longer alone.
“Sorry I took so long.”
As Bentel’s voice rang out from the doorway, Dal moved away as if he’d never been there. The other woman gave no indication she’d noticed anything amiss.
“Here, drink this. It’ll help.” She sat on the edge of La’tiera’s bed and handed her a small cup.
La’tiera took it then hesitated as she saw the dark liquid, her mind telling her it would taste like blood—a faint echo of her dream still nibbling at the edges of her consciousness. The moment the slightly sour flavor hit her tongue, however, she sighed and drank the wine down eagerly.
“I’m going back outside.” Dal left on silent feet, closing the door softly behind him.
La’tiera tried to forget the things he’d done and said, instead concentrating on the warm sensation the wine brought to her as it slid down her throat.
Bentel’s gentle fingers moved a few stray strands of hair away from La’tiera’s face. “Did that help a little?”
“A little,” she conceded. She gave the woman back the empty cup.
“Good.” It sounded like she meant it. “Try to get some rest, then. I’ll be right across from you if you need anything.”
Though it was dark inside the wagon again, deeper darkness outlined the other woman. As she relaxed from the wine, the knowledge she was not alone made her become more so.
“Thank you.”