Dark Journey

Isis spread her own delicate hands on the table. “I can assure you that they are.” She spoke with sympathy, and Daniel was aware that his body was responding to her naturally seductive body and the warm scent of her skin. His mind was clear enough, but his heart was beating too fast, and another part of his anatomy was very much at attention.

“What are you afraid of?” he asked, bringing his body back under restraint.

It was the wrong thing to say—certainly nothing a wary and frightened former serf would have asked. Maintaining the balance was tricky at best.

He wasn’t sure he could keep up the pretense.

She studied him, her dark eyes intent on his face. “I told you—we make certain that newcomers can live with our rules and will be comfortable beginning a new life here,” she said. “The same concerns apply for both humans and Opiri. But there are those who have come to observe our city in secret so that they can take reports back to their people.”

“You mean spies?” he asked in a much quieter voice, edged with alarm. “Why would anyone do that?”

“Some of them fear us, Daniel. We believe that the Enclaves and the Citadels throughout the west have learned what we have accomplished and may regard us as a threat to the separate worlds they have built, though those worlds are built upon hostility and a truce that might fail at any moment.”

Isis was right, Daniel thought. He remembered the mad Bloodlord in the northwest who had nearly started another war because he had stolen half-blood children and recruited rogue Freebloods—lordless Opiri—with the intent of attacking the Citadels and, eventually, the human Enclaves, as well. The Armistice had always balanced on the head of a pin, and a stiff wind could blow it off and plunge the world back into chaos.

“Do you think some Citadel or Enclave would attack you?” he asked.

“We do not know. But it is possible they may send agents to observe us, so you see that we must screen everyone who seeks sanctuary in Tanis. There can be no exceptions.”

So they must have screened Ares, Daniel thought. “What do you want from me?” he asked with feigned anxiety.

Her expression turned grave. “At the causeway,” she said, “you said you escaped from Vikos.”

“Yes,” he said, after a calculated hesitation.

“That is at least a five-hundred-mile journey,” Isis said, “much of it through mountainous territory. You came so far alone?”

“Yes,” Daniel said, looking past her at the drab wall.

“And your supplies?”

“I left them behind when I came into the city.”

“Your clothes are not too worn. Did you steal them?”

Daniel didn’t answer.

“You must have had help along the way.”

“There are...humans hiding everywhere,” he said. “Trying to survive and keep away from Opir hunters.”

“And none would come with you?”

Daniel shook his head. “They were afraid this was a trap.”

“But you were not?”

“In Vikos,” Daniel said, “there were rumors that humans here were more than—”

He broke off, but Isis completed the sentence for him. “Chattel?” she said, her lush mouth setting in a thin line.

“Yes.”

“And you chose to risk coming here, based only upon a rumor?”

Daniel swallowed, as if debating whether or not to continue. “It was a risk I was willing to take.” His jaw tightened. “But I will never let anyone take me prisoner again.”

“I understand,” Isis murmured.

Daniel imagined that he heard pity in her voice. He had never needed or accepted pity from any human or Nightsider, and he wanted none of hers.

“Do you think I am a spy?” he asked. “Who would I spy for? The Enclave that cast me out as a criminal and sent me into slavery? Vikos, where I was treated no better than an animal?”

“It seems unlikely,” she said soothingly.

“Very unlikely.” He laughed with half-feigned bitterness. “What do I have to do to prove myself?”

“We will keep you in a quiet room for a time, and others will speak to you. Once we are certain you are no threat, you will have the opportunity to—”

Daniel jumped out of his chair, nearly knocking it over. “You’ll lock me up?”

“You will be comfortable. Nobody will—”

“No manacles,” he said, working his fists. It was barely an act.

She rose slowly. “We have no intention of binding you. That is not done here, except when it is absolutely necessary.” She moved toward him, her white-and-gold robes swirling around her feet. Before he could back away, she touched his hand, her fingers—warm and soft and gentle—stroking his arm. Her influence washed over and through him.

“You must understand that not all Opiri are like the ones you knew in Vikos,” she said. “I will prove it to you.” She released his hand. “Can you trust me?”

Daniel knew how easily she could make most humans accept anything she said, do anything she bid without the need for compulsion.

He let her believe she was succeeding.

“I trust you,” he said slowly.

“I am Opir,” she said.

He put the length of the room between them, keeping his gaze unfocused and his voice on the edge of panic. “You have...dark hair,” he stammered. “Your eyes...”

“Nevertheless,” she said, “I am what you humans call a Nightsider, and I would never do you harm.”

Don’t overplay it, Daniel told himself. “You tricked me,” he said, pressing himself against the wall.

“It is easier for new humans if one of their own kind introduces him or her to our world, but it is the work I have chosen, and my appearance makes it possible.” She removed the caps from her teeth. “You did not guess, Daniel?”

He dropped his eyes. “No, my lady.”

“I am only Isis here.” She searched his face. “You never suspected? You were not playing a game to deceive me?”

“How could I?” he whispered.

“Because I think you know that most Opiri never consider the possibility of being deceived by a human.” She paused, as if carefully choosing her words. “Even if you had attacked me when I found you, there would be no punishment. We understand a former serf’s justifiable fear and anger.”

“We? Did you feel the same when you owned serfs?”

“I never kept any human in bondage, nor did I take part in the War.”

“But you hunted humans for blood.”

“I never killed,” she said. “But I saw much suffering. Six years ago I was among those who discovered this Citadel after it had fallen into chaos and savagery. I began to realize what life on our world could be.”

“And you changed it?”

“I can take little responsibility for what Tanis has become. All our citizens have shared in the work. We established new laws, expelled the worst of the Bloodlords and freed the serfs, giving them the choice of whether to remain under a new regime based on equality, or go their own way in freedom.”

“How many stayed?”

“Most chose to take a chance with us.”

“And the Opiri? Did they agree to abide by your new laws and give up their Households?”

“Those who did not were quickly removed from the city.”

“But you’ve still got former serfs living with their former masters.”

“We have many immigrants from other Citadels and Enclaves, people who have no experience of Tanis as it was.” Her eyes were bright and earnest. “There is safety here. Safety we must maintain.” She stroked his arm. “I see more than one man in you, Daniel. You are an enigma. I think you pretend to be a fearful and defiant serf now, but that is not what you were when we first met. Whatever the purpose of this act, it is unnecessary...unless, of course, you mean us ill. And I do not believe you do.”

If she had been any other woman, human or Opiri, Daniel would have interpreted her lingering touches as an invitation. But he already knew better, even if his body continued to react as if she might invite him to her bed as a willing partner.

Manipulation. Deception. She was as controlling as any Bloodmistress with dozens of serfs at her command.

Once again he shut down his body’s response. “You will still hold me here,” he said, “whether you believe it or not.”

“I would understand your true nature, Daniel, and your reason for coming to Tanis.”

“I’ve given my reason.”

“Yet now you doubt that what you sought is real, simply because you were brought in for questioning.” She lifted his chin with her soft hand. “I do not expect you to understand this all at once. But if your hope brought you here, it will help you to see with new eyes, and leave behind your old habits of servitude. If you choose to stay.”

“When you haven’t even decided whether or not to make me leave?”

Isis sighed and shook her head. “You are in need of fresh clothing, a good meal and rest. We shall discuss these matters in greater detail at another time.” She let her hand drift down his arm. “Let me show you to your quarters here at the Center. When you have been cleared, you will be given a tour of the city and time enough to see what we have to offer. Then you shall be granted a chance to apply for citizenship...if that is what you desire.”

He dropped the mask completely and straightened, glad to shed the false weight of fear and submission. “And what is the price?” he asked.

“As you must know,” she said, “every citizen is expected to do his or her part, human or Opiri.”

“Humans have to give blood,” he said.

“Willingly,” she said. “But you must have known that.” She tapped on the door, and the guards opened it.

“I will take Daniel myself,” she said.

The guards’ faces tightened with worry, but they made no protest. Isis, Daniel thought, had them in the palm of her hand.

He followed her along the corridor to a door at the rear of the building. A second, smaller building stood on the other side of a narrow garden. Summer flowers nodded gently in the breeze left by Isis’s passing as if they, too, offered obeisance.

“These are the visitor’s quarters,” she said. “They are used only until the prospective citizen has been properly introduced to the city and is assigned a permanent residence. I hope you will find your room comfortable.”

The room she indicated was near the back of the building. She opened the locked door with a key hidden somewhere among her robes and invited him inside.

It was more or less what Daniel had expected: a bed, a small table, two chairs, a small chest with a lamp. An inner door led to a bathroom. There were no windows.

A thread of real panic worked its way through Daniel’s gut. He hated small, windowless rooms. He hated being a prisoner. But he’d known it might come to this, and so he stepped inside.

“I will see that food and drink are brought immediately,” Isis said. “Clothes will come after I report the sizes you require.” She looked him up and down with a faint smile. “I think I have already made an accurate estimate.”

An intensely physical tension rose between them as Daniel realized that she had been as fully aware of his body as he had been of hers.

Her smile faltered, and he had the sense that she was startled by the change in the air, as if she had suddenly lost the use of a tool she had wielded with ease all her life.

What would she do, Daniel thought, if he let her see just how little under her influence he really was?

She must have seen something in his eyes that alarmed her, for she looked away and backed toward the door. “I will speak to you again soon,” she said. “Rest well, Daniel.”

In a moment she was gone, and the door lock engaged. Daniel sat down on the bed and stripped off his boots, dirty shirt and pants, trying to distract his thoughts from Isis and the sense of walls closing in around him. He stepped into the shower and imagined that the water was washing away the memories, but they were never far from his thoughts. Part of him still lived in that tiny, dirty cell Lord Palemon had kept him in when Daniel wasn’t being used or punished for defiance. Even his good years with Ares and his time in Avalon and Delos hadn’t erased that cell from his mind.

When he walked out of the bathroom, Isis was standing by the door. A tray of food and a pitcher of water lay on the table, but Daniel barely noticed them. Isis wet her lips and stared at him, and his body reacted exactly as it had before. This time there was no concealing it.

“I am flattered,” Isis said huskily.

“It’s no less than you expect from any man who comes near you,” he said.

Her brows drew down. “You are discourteous, Daniel.”

“And you aren’t used to discourtesy, are you? You don’t have to order anyone to get what you want.”

Her dark eyes sparked with anger, bringing out the deep purple lurking within them, and Daniel laughed inwardly. She wasn’t so different from the Opiri he’d known in Erebus, or even some of those he’d met outside in the colonies. She summoned respect, even if she didn’t acknowledge it.

“You’re a Bloodmistress,” Daniel said bluntly. “You were born to influence others.”

He was surprised to see distress in her expression. “What do you know of it?”

“Do you deny it?” he demanded.

She wrapped her arms around her chest and shivered. “You are wrong.”

“A pity you never had a chance to own another intelligent being,” Daniel said. “Then you could have had absolute power.”

“I do not want it!” She gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles turning white against her golden skin. “You do not know me. You see only what you wish to see.”

“Then you do deny it, in spite of all the bows and smiles and deference everyone shows you, as if you were the goddess your name implies.”

“I made no attempt to influence you,” she insisted, her golden skin turning pale.

“Maybe not consciously,” he said, relenting a little, “but instinctively. Because you are what you are.”

“That is truly what you think of me?”

“We’re strangers,” he said. “What should I think?”

To his astonishment, she worked at the fastenings of her robes, and they fell like water to her feet. Beneath them she was naked. And breathtaking. Her body was sweetly curved, full-breasted and hipped, her legs shapely and strong, her waist supple.

“You cannot abide losing control, Daniel,” she said. “That is your rebellion against your old life. Now I give you a choice. You may prove to yourself that I cannot influence you...because I want you, and I will do nothing to make you want me.”

Chapter 3

Lust shone in Daniel’s pale blue eyes, but he made no move toward Isis.

He was disciplined, she thought. Disciplined and proud, yet willing to set aside his pride to play the serf if he thought it was to his benefit.

But he had also accused her of trying to dominate others with her influence. Surely that could not be true; she had sworn to give up such power long ago.

At the moment, Daniel had all the power. Dangerous was the word that kept coming to mind, even though he was still a prisoner. His body fascinated her; every part of him was whipcord muscle and lean grace, like one of the wildcats that roamed the wilderness. His skin had been bronzed by exposure to the sun, and his eyes were bright and keen in his tanned, handsome face.

She had never met a human who had such an effect on her, not in all her long years of life, though she had known thousands upon thousands of men; men who had worshipped her as a goddess, laying gifts at her feet, willing to serve her in any way she desired.

This man would never serve her. There was a hardness in him, scars she could feel but not see, experiences she could only imagine in spite of her time spent with former serfs. She had always been able to sense what lay in human hearts, had regarded them with sympathy and pity. But Daniel...

He would reject her pity, her sympathy, and any offer to guide him as she did the thousands she had sworn to protect. And still she reacted to his proximity as if she were a starving Opir in the presence of fresh, pumping blood.

How could it be that she should desire a man who was not only a stranger to the city, but an utter enigma to her? How could her body betray her so cruelly? What had she meant to prove by stripping herself and standing before him, a living offering to one who could so easily disdain her?

“Enough of these games,” Daniel said in a husky voice, his gaze never leaving hers. The back of her neck prickled as he drew closer. His steps were nearly as silent as an Opir’s, his stride loose and easy.

But he was no more relaxed than she was. The physical evidence of his desire had not abated, and his nearness stiffened her nipples and brought her to aching readiness.

“What do you want, Isis?” he murmured. “What are you hoping to gain from this? Are you hungry for blood that doesn’t come from a storage unit? Or do you think you’ll learn something about me you can’t get any other way?”

Anger blurred her vision. He mocked her, but she had made herself a target. She could ignore Anu or Ereshkigal when they derided her for her lack of objectivity in her devotion to mankind, but this was different. This was very personal. She had thrown aside all her pride to prove to this one man, this human...

She reached out and took his hand, laying it on her breast. He sucked in a sharp breath, and his gaze fell to his hand on her skin.

“I want nothing,” she whispered, “except to prove that I—”

He caught her lips with his, pressing his palm against her breast. There was no hesitation in him now. His tongue plunged inside her mouth, and she felt for the table behind her, her knees going weak. He cradled her head in the crook of his arm while he stroked her nipple with his other hand, kissing her mouth and her throat and her shoulder.

Then she noticed the thick scar tissue on his neck, the residue of hundreds of bites never properly healed. She flinched, sickened by the implications of those scars. Not only had he been bitten hundreds of times, but the Opiri who had used him hadn’t bothered to mend the wounds they left in his flesh. It would have been a simple matter of altering the chemicals in their saliva to close the wounds and set them to healing.

But Daniel didn’t seem to notice her concern. He swept her up in his arms, carrying her easily to the narrow bed. He laid her down and immediately knelt over her, his eyes clouded with hunger. A moment later his mouth was on her nipple, licking and then suckling it while he eased his body over hers. She parted her thighs and arched up against him, moaning deep in her throat.

He kissed her again and slid his hand down her belly to the moistness between her legs. He knew exactly what to do, and in seconds she was gasping, at the mercy of her body’s reaction as if she had never known such sensations before. Daniel knew she had surrendered; he pinned her arms above her head, almost tenderly, and kissed his way down her body from breast to hip, pausing only for a moment before his mouth found the center of her pain and pleasure.

His tongue was an expert tool, licking and exploring, making her tremble violently in anticipation. When he dipped it inside her, all she could think of was taking the rest of him, drawing him in, feeling him moving and thrusting and carrying her to the heights.

As if he’d read her thoughts, he slid his body up over hers and braced himself on his arms. He looked into her eyes and brushed a strand of her hair away from her lips.

“How long has it been?” he asked gently.

Isis didn’t want to talk. But she felt him waiting for her answer, withholding himself until she gave it up as she gave up her body.

“Not...since I came to Tanis,” she whispered. “I must...remain apart...”

“Why?”

“It is my place...to guide them, show them...the way to live in peace and harmony.”

“Humans?”

“They...they need—”

Suddenly his warmth vanished, the weight of his body gone as he rolled away. Instinctively she closed her legs and covered her chest as if she herself were a serf on the block, ready for claiming.

“I am honored that you chose to suspend your noble chastity with me,” he said from across the room, “but I wouldn’t want to interfere with your work.”

She sat up, meeting his steady gaze with shattered dignity, stung by emotions that had seemed so distant for so many centuries: wounded pride, regret, confusion.

But she could not let him see. He must not know how deeply she felt his rejection. The rejection of a human, who should have been grateful—

No, she thought. That was the old way, the wrong way. This small error in judgment changed nothing: not her commitment to aiding the humans of Tanis, nor her attitude toward Daniel. It would be as if this had never happened.

She would learn who and what Daniel was, why he should have such power to make her forget herself so completely. She would learn his weakness.

Rising from the bed, she gathered up her robes and pulled them on, letting them hang loose.

“I thank you for reminding me of my purpose,” she said. “I will not make such a mistake again.”

To her surprise, Daniel looked away. He turned and walked into the bathroom, and for the first time Isis saw the other scars he carried on his body: the raised pink and brown welts from numerous savage beatings crisscrossing his back, and lower, layer upon layer.

Ill and dizzy, Isis reached for the bed table. Memories. He carried them with him every day, and he could never escape their mark.

Someone tapped on the door behind her. She fastened her robes and opened the door.

“Lady,” the human attendant said, color rising in his cheeks. “I have the visitor’s clothes. Should I come back at another—”

“No.” She smiled at him, and his body relaxed. “I am just leaving.” She took the clothes from him and laid them across the bed. Daniel had not emerged from the bathroom when she left.

Still bewildered by the intensity of her feelings—the lust, the fascination, the pity—she gave brief instructions to the guards and sought her own quarters. Unlike most of her peers among the Nine, she preferred to live near the humans with whom she spent so much of her time, in a fifth-floor apartment that held little of the extravagance some high-ranking Opiri enjoyed.

Supposedly, such ranks did not exist in Tanis, and most Opir citizens preferred to live in the towers under the half dome. It was only sensible, since they could not tolerate sunlight.

Once in her apartment, Isis bathed and dressed in fresh robes. Daniel’s earthy scent had become entangled with the fabric, and she instructed her maid to have them washed as soon as possible.

She sipped the blood from her small personal store and found it almost unpalatable. Of course there was no comparison to taking fresh blood from its source, but that was considered a transaction between two private individuals and carefully regulated.

Had Daniel known that, when he mocked her about being hungry for his blood? Did he think she would take it without his express consent?

Her mouth went dry as she thought about what he had done and how tempted she would have been if he had completed the act. If she had so much as touched his neck with her lips...

But that had not happened, she reminded herself. Nor was there any chance of it happening in the future. She would simply find someone else to finish questioning him.

Gathering her composure about her like a heavy day coat, she prepared herself for the meeting of the Nine. She was in no mood to deal with Ereshkigal’s sullen manner or Anu’s arrogance, but it couldn’t be helped. The Elders of Tanis had set policy for the city, and though they did not enact or enforce laws, their opinions had weight with the elected Council of ordinary Opiri and humans. She must be there because she was one of the Nine most personally sympathetic to humans and most protective of their dignity.

She laughed quietly. Had she respected Daniel’s dignity? Was she so unaware of her own flaws that a human must point them out? Was she so careless with her power, so accustomed to the influence that she didn’t even realize she was still using it?