The Afflicted
A Sweeping New Tale of a New Breed of Vampires.
Hello, and welcome to The Afflicted! This work was up on Literotica a few years ago and was fairly popular. Due to lots of requests, I am now re-posting the entire thing in one work. I hope you enjoy! Please vote and comment if you are so inclined, it is always appreciated.



CHAPTER 1



The Year - 1869.

The steel flashed beneath the setting moon. The clash of the swords was the only noise on the deck of the ship other than the whisper of the wind through the sails.

The family had the ship to themselves every night from midnight until 5:00 am, barring bad weather. The only other persons allowed above were the captain, and his three most trusted mates, all of whom were long-time employees of the Council and were models of discretion. The rest of the crew was essentially locked below during the wee morning hours for the family's protection.

Claude's father, Palo, insisted that the children continue their sword practice throughout the voyage.

Spending the better part of each day locked in their double-sealed quarters below-decks made their time above a welcome relief, regardless of the activities.

"Sword arm higher, Aimée" said Palo in his cultivated English accent, tinged with the rich French tones he'd gained from his privileged Moroccan upbringing. "That's it."

Claude made a quick retreat as his sister came at him with an energetic attack. Their swords flashed in a nearly invisible web. Claude was nearly disarmed but managed to hold on to his weapon. Aimée grew overconfident and Claude knocked her weapon aside. In the same motion, his sword slashed across her forearm, leaving a huge bleeding gash.

"Merde!" shouted Aimée, dropping her weapon.

"Aimée, that was careless," said Palo. "Further, I have told you, English only, in order to be ready for America."

"Well I am sorry, father," said Aimée angrily. "I wasn't exactly thinking of the correct language I should swear in."

"'Damn it', or 'fuck' would have worked," said their mother, Frederique, who was reading by lantern in a chair.

"I'll remember that," said Aimée.

Frederique placed her book down and stood. "Well, I suppose it is my turn. What do you say Palo?"

"Absolutely." said their father.

Frederique stood. She was dressed very properly, which wouldn't do for swordplay. First, she removed her large skirt, and then began unlacing her top, revealing the creamy white skin below. At the same time, Palo removed his doublet, uncovering the well-muscled, chocolate-hued chest below. For Claude and Aimée, their parents were simply their parents. However, even they were aware that there were few to compare with their parents in terms of physical beauty. The difference in the color of their skins seemed to heighten their attractiveness by contrast. Claude and Aimée watched on as their parents prepared. Frederique now stood in petticoats and a corset, loosened for movement. Palo stood in breeches only.

"How is it healing," asked Claude of Aimée as their parents prepared to fence.

"Good, it wasn't too deep."

Claude glanced down at her arm, and the healing was progressing well. The blood had stopped and the wound was already scabbed over and mending.

The Affliction, as their condition was called, always helped things along miraculously. Though they could not live in the light of day, there were many positive trade-offs to make it worth their while. This rapid healing was one of the greatest benefits. In terms of the activity at hand, it made those of the Afflicted some of the most stunning swordsmen the world had ever seen. Not only did the Affliction enhance physical strength and reflexes, the healing it offered gave the Afflicted an unbelievable advantage. First, they could train in 'real' conditions. No wooden swords or blunt edges for them. An opponent in a real battle gave no quarter, so they offered themselves none when they trained. That, and not having to fear injury, made them ferocious opponents. Hunted as they were, 'vampires' (as the rest of the world called them), meant such skills were gravely needed from time to time. In sparring, mortals needed to wear protective clothing and use training blades. With the Afflicted, there was only one rule - avoid the heart or decapitation. Even severed limbs could be grafted back on and would heal in a day or so. Though the Affliction could heal almost anything, there wasn't much to do for any being with a ruptured heart or a severed head.

"Voler?" asked Frederique.

"English, darling." admonished Palo.

"Very well then. Flying? Both of us?"

"I think we should, it has been a while," said their father.

Claude and Frederique shared an excited glance. Their parents sparring sessions usually involved at least one of them staying on the ground, so as to be prepared for mortal opponents. However, fights between the Afflicted were known to happen, so air-to-air flying was practiced as well.

Their father was widely acknowledged as one of the greatest swordsmen from the African continent. Even before their mother had taken him as a mate and blessed him with the Affliction his prowess had been legendary. Still, he was relatively young, being over five hundred years younger than Frederique. On the ground, her greatly superior experience made them fairly evenly matched on the ground, though if Palo was patient he could wear down their mother with his greater strength. The tipping point occurred when they took to the air. As great as their father's reputation was with the sword, all of their friends among the Afflicted spoke even more highly of their mother's flying skills. Her speed and ability, and the ease with which she flew were amazing to behold.

Both Claude and Aimée had yet to 'awaken', as it was called when the Affliction came to full strength, so they had yet to fly (or whatever talents the Affliction might manifest in them). After all of their drubbings at their father's hand, they always looked forward to the observing flight sessions where they knew their mother would emerge victorious.

"Salute," said their father, holding his blade to his forehead.

"Salute," said Frederique, holding her longer blade upward, while readying her shorter sword in her left hand. Her preferred method was always two swords: a longer spadroon and a shorter double-edged sword for parrying. Their father had chosen his favorite this evening, an extra-long curved saif.

One of the most entertaining elements of flight duels was unpredictability. Some duels would start with one opponent rocketing into the skies, the other pursuing them.

Tonight started differently. Their parents stayed on the deck, circling each other cautiously, parrying briefly now and again as they looked for an opening.

At last it was Palo who grew impatient and engaged fully. As always, it was startling to see. To the non-Afflicted, no swords would have been visible in this exchange. Even to Claude and Aimée, the blades were a blur from their speed. They watched in awe as each thrust and slash was met with a parry, as each feint was anticipated and countered. At last, Palo found an opening. Both Claude and Aimée gasped as they saw their father's blade thrusting toward their mother's left breast. They needn't have feared, however, as Frederique sailed backward across the deck and then made for the skies, Palo directly on her heels.

"I wonder how long it will be before we can do that" said Claude wistfully.

"I know," replied Aimée. "To leave the earth, to soar like that; how wonderful it will be."

They watched as well as they could as their parents played a fascinating game of cat and mouse among the rigging and sails of the ship. Here, Frederique would be behind a mast, there Palo would appear from behind a sail. At last, Palo caught her in the open and they soared upward once again.

"He's done for," said Aimée. "I'll give him thirty seconds."

"Agreed," said Claude, "but I'll wager a minute."

"Very well, let's count."

The two of them began counting the seconds as the sound of the clashing swords grew further and further away.

"Thirty," said Claude. "I win."

"It is a long way from a minute," smiled Aimée.

They kept counting and squinting at the skies, not even able to make out their parents in the darkness.

"Fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven..."

"You win," said Aimée.

"Let's see how he does though," said Claude. "He's doing much better recently.

They reached nearly eighty when they heard their father's pained cry far above them.

"Very good," said Aimée, "a new record."

"Below!" their mother shouted. The two of them ducked beneath the foredeck. Afflicted or not, it still wouldn't be fun to be pierced by a falling sword.

"There!" shouted Aimée, pointing at the glittering object, flashing thanks to the waxing moon. It was falling ahead of, and to the right of the ship, straight into the waves.

"Damn!" said Claude, "Father would hate to lose that sword. Send mother after me."

With that, Claude jumped to the railing and watched the falling object. Timing his dive, he leapt and landed in the water about ten feet from where the sword was due to hit. Plunging downward, he looked up and was grateful to see the telltale splash illuminated, and proudly swam up to catch the sword by the hilt. He burst to the surface, surprised at how rapidly the ship had diminished in the distance. Bobbing among the waves, he treaded water patiently waiting for his mother to rescue him.

Back on the deck, Aimée watched as her mother alighted gracefully, followed by her father who held his right shoulder painfully, blood still flowing liberally from a large gash.

Aimée hastily grabbed a cloth and bucket, sponging off the wound and assisting her mother to place temporary bandages.

"I almost had her," said Palo.

"It's true, he did." said Frederique, "and I'm not being generous, you are getting terribly good in the air, my love."

"Someday," said Palo. "Someday I will best you, my beautiful, fierce creature."

"Aimée, where is Claude?" asked Frederique.

"Mon dieu!" cursed Aimée. "He's in the water; he went after Father's sword."

"Oh dear," laughed Frederique. "I'm glad you thought of it now, we could have lost him for good."

She levitated and started off the ship. "Just follow the wake," said Palo.

"I know, dear."

A few minutes later, Claude saw the silhouette against the stars and waived his father's sword in the air, hoping the blade would catch the light of the moon. It served his purpose, and he soon saw his mother swooping down, brushing her fingers along the water as she approached him.

"You know, we can always replace a sword," she admonished him.

"But I have you, Mother," he said, grinning, "the greatest flier in the history of all the Afflicted. You know how much father loves this sword."

"True," said Frederique, "and now you are found. How is the water, by the way?"

"Surprisingly warm," said Claude.

"Good, I'll wash off some of this sweat."

Frederique lowered herself gracefully into the water, letting a swell in the waves engulf her. Soon, she reappeared, water streaming from her hair. She swam about for a few minutes, laughing and chatting with Claude about the duel with his father, among other things.

"How beautiful the moon is this evening."

"Yes," said Frederique, "And just two days until full."

There was more than a hint of worry in her voice, though Claude failed to detect it.

"Well then? Pret? Ready?" she asked.

"Yes," said Claude.

Frederique swam up beside him and pulled him to her, readying to lift from the water.

Claude had swum with his mother countless times in the past. They'd had a pool below ground in their old house and it was a daily activity with all of them. They were also a very 'touchy' family, and had never shied away from physical contact, taking it almost for granted.

Given that, what happened next was a true shock to Claude's system.

As Frederique pulled him close and he could feel her body through her wet undergarments, a startling bolt of energy shot through his system. It was as though his skin was on fire, and down below, he felt himself hardening inexplicably.

Frederique herself seemed to sense something and turned to Claude, her face a fraction of an inch from his. "Claude, is everything all right?"

"Oui mother," said Claude, looking away from her, embarrassed and overwhelmed by his body's reaction.

"Are you sure? If anything is amiss, you should tell me."

"I'm fine."

Frederique pulled him closer as they lifted from the water. Again, his body cried out with strange, anxious longing. He shuddered as they lifted into the air.

"Claude, are you sure?" said Frederique, gently.

"Yes, just the chill of the air, mother." he lied.

"I see," she said, her eyes squinting suspiciously. Yet, she said nothing else and pushed him away, holding only onto his hand in order to extend her sphere of flight around him. "Off to the ship."

Claude was both grateful and sad at their parting. Something inside of him screamed out upon their separation, though it did ease his longing. Still, the point where their hands touched felt electrified, and all his body wanted was to pull her close to him again.

Their flight back was quiet. In spite of what Claude had said, the air was actually warm. By the time they landed back on the deck of the ship, they were entirely dry from the warm breeze they'd flown through. Claude's heart skipped a beat as he looked at his mother, her hair radiant and full in the moonlight. With a last feeling of reluctance, he let loose of her hand.

"So? How are our wounded?" asked Frederique.

"I was all better long ago," said Aimée. "Father is getting there. You dealt him quite a blow."

Palo sat, still holding the bandage to his shoulder.

"It's that damn second sword," he said, half angrily. "Not gentlemanly, I've always said."

"First, I'm not a gentleman," said Frederique. "Second, that second sword has defeated more enemies than I can count."

"True, true. But I had you for a while there," insisted Palo.

"You did, mon cher. You did indeed," she said, snuggling under his strong arm. "Soon, you will be the master of the skies as well."

"That will be quite a while, I fear."

Claude went straight to the cleaning kit. Saltwater was beastly with blades, and he wanted to oil it thoroughly to prevent any damage that might have been done. He had another reason for crossing there, it allowed him to distract his mind from his mother and the feelings their touch had stirred.

Palo stood and removed the staunch on his shoulder. The wound had shrunken to a small hole and would be gone within the hour.

"My thanks to you, son." said Palo. "That one is a gem of a weapon."

"It was my pleasure, father." said Claude, not daring to meet his father's eyes from shame.

"Is everything well with you, Claude?" asked his father, concerned.

"Yes. Yes. I just think that treading water all that time took a bit out of me. I just need some rest."

"The sun is coming soon enough. Take it easy up here while you can. Thanks, once again."

Claude nodded quietly and walked to the end of the ship, leaning on the railing and looking out at stars dwindling into the approaching dawn. He contemplated the odd sensations within him, and then realized something which truly put him in bad spirits. They had to return to below-decks soon.

With her usual catlike silence, Aimée appeared beside him and also peered out at the stars.

"Mother says you must come in,"

"I know. I just want a few more minutes longer in the fresh air."

"I don't blame you," said Aimée. "Each day, it seems longer than the one before down in that horrible hold."

"It's not just being below," said Claude. "Our cabins are like a palace compared to what the crew must live in. No, the problem is our parents. Listening to them all day long, it will drive me crazy. You'd think they could at least be a little quieter."

"They never have been," said Aimée, shrugging. "Why would they now?"

"Because now, we are not in a thirty room mansion with them at the far end. Now, there are only two inches of wood between their cabin and mine. Doesn't it bother you?"

"I have your cabin between mine and theirs so it isn't so loud. Now come down below."

They both walked to her cabin and flopped down upon her bed. Their legs ended up brushing together as they sat on opposite ends of the bed. Again, the familiarity was there, Claude and Aimée had always had a great sense of comfort with each other.

"What do you think it is going to be like when we get there?" asked Claude.

"I'm not certain, but I'm sure it will be wonderful," said Aimée, smiling. "The civil war is over -- there is now equality for all. Mother and father will have a place where they are truly accepted, no?"

Claude suppressed his first response, not wanting to hurt Aimée's feelings. She had always been the eternal optimist in the family. Claude had asked many sources. He feared they were in for a rougher path than Aimée suspected because of their skin color, but he tempered his words.

"What I think," he said, "Is we may still meet many who don't approve of our father's dark skin... but since our dealings are only by night, father will be able to continue to grow our wealth with few people knowing his face. I think I will have a harder time of it, but you... with so much of mother's coloring... I think you can say you are Spanish or Greek maybe, and not worry about the black part of the equation."

"Greek? Why would I say such a thing?"

"You'll see, Aimée. You'll see."

Claude scrutinized his sister. She had changed immensely in the past year. She had been a gangly tomboy not that long ago. It seemed her breasts had appeared overnight, and the curves in her hips had soon followed. He had teased her mercilessly about her newly acquired 'friends'. Sometimes he'd paid the price for his teasing. Her tomboy muscles hadn't disappeared, merely been covered up by more curvy flesh, and she'd come out the victor in several scraps. She wasn't as strong as him, but she was far swifter and used that to her advantage.

When they had learned they were to be traveling to America, the teasing had stopped, though. Knowing they would only have each other as allies for some time had led to a shift in their relationship.

"What are you looking at?" asked Aimée, noticing Claude's gaze.

"Nothing. I'm just wondering how many of the Afflicted's hearts you're going to break before you choose your first mate.

She blushed.

"Claude, is that a compliment?" she asked shyly.

"Perhaps, but don't expect such things very often."

"Oh, I won't. But thank you all the same."

She pushed down beside him, pushing into the crook of his arm and snuggling across him.

"So," said Claude, "We start in New York, there to be auctioned off."

"Oh stop, silly."

"No, not auctioned," Claude continued, "but that's where they will have gathered all of the other single Afflicted. It just feels so odd, being put out to stud, so to speak. It's like when father would breed horses. He would put the stallion in the pasture with the fillies and just see what happened."

"But the fillies will also have a choice here," said Aimée, her eyes flaring.

"I wasn't saying they didn't. That was just the closest analogy I could find. What do you think they'll do? Strip us naked and throw us in an underground room with padded floor and pillows. Leave us there until we've paired up?"

"You'd like that, but I suspect they'll be more subtle in their approach."

"I suppose you're right," said Claude, turning away from her so he was facing out. Aimée hugged herself into his back.
"Where do you think we'll settle?" asked Aimée.

"Father says there are three choices. There is a large community in New Orleans, which mother would love because of all the French. New York is the best because of its size - so easy to blend in and stay unnoticed. Father is most in favor of Boston because of the long winters."

"What does he know?" asked Aimée. "None of us except mother has ever seen snow."

"True, but it isn't the snow that he cares about. The further north, the longer the nights are in winter. You know how father hates it inside. Imagine, nearly fifteen hours outside on the shortest day in December!"

"That would be something," said Aimée.

"Allo? Allo?" They heard their mother's voice echoing down the hallway.

"In here, Mama," said Aimée.

Frederique looked into their cabin; a curious spark crossed her face as she saw them together, but passed quickly. She carried a tray with four glasses full of red liquid. Two were smaller, but two were at least four times the usual size.

"Time for your medicine." she said, serving up the two larger ones to her two children who had sat up to greet her.

"Why so much, mother?" asked Aimée. "Poor Veronica, she will waste away."

Veronica was the blood nurse for this journey. Blood was one of the needs of the Affliction, but not to the extent of all of the stories about vampires. A small vial a day was enough to curb the bloodlust which came with their condition. Every family usually had a blood nurse on staff, or shared one between families. Blood nurses were paid very well for their blood... and for their silence. Veronica was an ample German woman of middle years who had signed on to the voyage in order to join her sister's family in America.

"I think Veronica has plenty to spare. She'll be fine. I just want to be extra careful. The moon is full three days from now."

"Oh Mother, you worry so much. I feel nothing," said Aimée. "Do you, Claude?"

"No. Not at all."

"Better safe than sorry, darling," Frederique said, watching patiently as the two drank their helpings of blood.

"Good. Well, it is time for your parents to get some sleep."

"Good day, mother." said Aimée.

"Good day, mother. Sleep well," echoed Claude.

That greeting was one of the curious phrases of the Afflicted. The meanings were reversed. "Good Night," was something akin to "farewell for now, whereas "Good Day was often accompanied by "Sweet Dreams" or something of the sort, since The Afflicted slept while the sun was up.

Frederique left and they watched in silence until hearing the door to her cabin click shut. Aimée started snickering first, bringing Claude into laughter as well. He fell on his back, laughing, and Aimée climbed astride him.

"Sleep," she whispered, chuckling. "Is this how she sleeps?"

She lifted her hands to her hair and rolled her head seductively. She closed her eyes, snoring but still gyrating her hips.

"Or does father sleep like this?" Claude flipped her over and lay between her legs, moving back and forth comically.

He stopped moving, but lay on top of her, face cradled in his hands. "But tell me sister, how do you know so much about our parents and their habits?"

"I walked in on them once. I told you, didn't I?"

"No!"

"Yes, it was after a party. I didn't see that much, I ran away I was so shocked," said Aimée, smiling.

Lying atop her, for the first time he noticed her breasts. Not with his eyes, but with his body, and they felt amazing against his chest. Claude tried to conceal his shock at the stirrings. With frustration, he sensed his member rising again. He quickly rolled off of her and lay on the outside of the bed, facing away from her, hoping she hadn't felt him springing to life at their contact.

"I have an idea, Claude," said Aimée, wrapping around him from behind, making him once again aware of her breasts and supple body.

"Hmm?"

"Sleep here tonight, with me," she said. "Just like old times, no? Your cabin is the one next to theirs; in here they are much harder to hear."

It would be like old times. There had been countless nights they'd crawled into each other's beds as children, after a nightmare or merely for companionship. It would be just like old times, except for one thing; the very large and rigid thing between Claude's legs.

"Aimée, that is a very nice offer, but I've been sleeping so lightly. I'll be better by myself.

Saying that, Claude rose and walked to the door, keeping his back to her the entire time until he was able to slip around the edge of the door and peek back in with his erection concealed.

"Good day, Sister." he said.

"Good day, Brother. Sweet dreams."

Claude returned to his cabin, stripping off his clothes which were the only thing that made sleep bearable in the heat of below. He was distressed by the emotions rolling through him. She was his sister, his twin sister. This was Aimée, who had tortured him for years with her immature behavior and endless tantrums. This was Aimée, who was currently driving him crazy for very different reasons.

First his mother; and now his sister. What was wrong with him?! He stared at the ceiling of his cabin, trying to envision other girls he had obsessed about: Tatiana, the daughter of the French consul; Amadi, the maid with the huge breasts. Yes, that helped a little. Amadi and Tatiana together, this tack was working to distract him from thoughts of the women in the rooms next to his, but it was also only serving to make him more aroused.

He grabbed a book from his shelf. Plato's Middle Dialogues, perfect. He flipped through and started reading Menexenus. He could be a good student, but not when he was sleepy. This was just the thing for him. Blah blah, Pericles. Blah blah blah, Peloponnesian war... and before long he found his eyes growing heavy. He let the book fall onto his chest, turned the wick down on his lantern, and gratefully fell toward sleep -- praying he would sleep through whatever might happen and then...

"Oh Cheri!" moaned his mother's voice through the wall. "How much I've needed you. Come to me."

The moans began. His mother was not known for being quiet. His father was generally more reserved, at least until the end. His mother would always start with hushed tones, but as the passion overtook her she would grow increasingly louder. As well as their voices, there were their actions and tonight his parents didn't seem too interested in the bed. Soon after they started, they were right up against his wall somewhere, and somehow, someone's head was pounding against it.

Claude turned his lantern back up and sat, helpless, as the enthusiastic pursuits continued. If it were night, he could go on deck but now they were stuck in just these three cabins. He seriously reconsidered his sister's offer, but he was rock hard and couldn't risk brushing up against her with the new surge of emotions he'd felt. There was something in his mother's voice that was almost like a siren call, he didn't know how anyone could listen to those low-pitched moans alternating with the higher register without getting aroused. No, he was stuck here.

He tried Plato again, no luck. He leafed through other books but couldn't read more than a sentence without losing his concentration. He decided to give his cabin a thorough examination. This was a Council ship, designed for the sole purpose of transporting the Afflicted around the world with its secure, dark cabins safe from the sun or inspection, once locked.

He looked about the cabin and wondered how many people had been transported here and to where they had gone. He knew of one for sure, someone named Ojos. Ojos Paredes. Whoever it was had carved their name into the ceiling. Claude's education so far had included the obvious Latin and Greek, as well as French, English, and Italian. He'd had a smattering of Swedish and Spanish. Drawing on his Spanish, he tried to figure out if this person's name had met anything. Ojos... Ojos... what did that mean? He tried to dig back to his tutoring sessions. Eyes. That was it, eyes. What a strange name. Why would someone name their child 'eyes'? Now paredes, that sounded familiar, but he couldn't remember anything directly. He searched through his mind for similar terms in other languages. Nothing in French... Italian, there was 'pareti', which meant walls.

Eyes. Walls.

Claude jumped up, intrigued and gladdened to have something to distract him.

Eyes, walls. This must mean that there were eyes in the walls. So either someone might be watching him, or he could see out.

He began his search, feeling around the walls and the ceiling. He didn't have much luck at first, and then settled back to take a more analytical approach. On the forward wall, against his parents' cabin, was a painting of a sea captain on the deck of a ship, another ship in the background. On the other wall, the one against Aimée's was smaller portrait of a woman in an opulent red dress with a jewel necklace.

Could it be that simple, Claude wondered? Could it be that juvenile? He crossed to the painting of the captain and touched the eyes. Yes! There was a seam there, a rectangle around each eye that was barely visible. He pushed on that part of the painting gently, but nothing happened. Examining the rest of the painting closely, he ran his fingers over the surface. There were no more rectangles, but when he reached the portholes depicted on the ship in the distance, they had circles around them. Pushing on one, he almost shouted in triumphal surprise as the rectangle over the portrait-captain's eyes flipped open. He examined the opening and saw the painting was actually canvas affixed to wood. Putting his eye up to it, he jerked back in fear as he saw the scene of sailors working on deck. He was half-certain his eyes would be burned by the bright sunlight.

Yet, even though it was day, it seemed darker. He realized that the makers of this viewing system must have used smoked glass... so this was surely an invention of an Afflicted. He watched the sailors a little longer and then pushed the next porthole in line. The view switched and looked on the galley. It was an odd sensation to be looking at the daylight world. He watched in fascination as the cook and his assistant prepared breakfast. All of his life, his only view of the world had been in the evening. He had never seen regular workaday life. He watched, spellbound, trying to decipher the words they were saying to each other. The next button led to the crew quarters. Some of the men were still waking up.

"Good morning Pete," Claude said, entertaining himself by guessing the words the sailors might be saying.

"Good morning Jimmy. How did you sleep? -- Not so good, Joules was snoring again. -- Oh that's too bad."

Palo's voice filtered through the wall and annoyed him somewhat, Palo was SO loud when he reached climax. His pleasured cries rose louder and louder, and as always tapered off very quickly into silence.

Claude was immensely enjoying his new distraction... distraction being the key word. He switched to another port, grateful that his father had climaxed and he would be able to concentrate on his viewing.

Next were the captain's quarters. The captain was poring over charts with his navigator, munching on a breakfast that had just arrived. Tiring of this, Claude found a view that he was sure would be one of his favorites. At first, it didn't seem like much. All he could see was the gray fabric of a sailor's shirt. Then the sailor moved out of the way and he realized this view was coming from the crow's nest. Somehow, the painting's brilliant designer had even found a way to run a line up through the main mast. Claude gasped at the beauty of the ocean when seen by day. Even though it was obscured by the smoked glass, it was still amazing in its detail. It was so unlike the views he'd seen, even on moonlit nights. He gazed here the longest of any so far, loving the infinite view of the waves.

Pulling himself away from the crow's nest view, he decided to get an accurate list of where each button led to. He tore out a piece of tracing paper from his notebook, and laid it over the top of the ship and roughly traced the outline of the ship and the portholes. Then he started quickly pushing them one-by-one, noting each.

1 -- Main Deck. 2 -- Galley, 3 -- Sleeping quarters, 4 -- Crow's Nest, 5 -- Stern, 6 -- Mother naked, 7 -- Livestock, 8...

6 -- Mother naked.

He went back to 6. He peered more closely at his parent's cabin which took some adjusting as it was more dimly lit with only lantern-light.

There was his mother, sitting on the edge of the larger bed in her cabin, naked, and brushing her hair. His father was in a post-sex coma, but not Frederique.

"Mon Dieu, she's beautiful," muttered Claude to himself. His mother was not modest and often walked around the house in her silks. Claude had even caught occasional glimpses of her dressing, but had either turned away or she had covered herself. He was riveted. Forget the jokes about older women and their sagging breasts, he knew his mother to be nearly six hundred years old. In all those years, two children and gravity had done nothing to affect the shape of the marvelous objects he was viewing surreptitiously. They were full, yes, and gravity played with them in wonderful ways as she moved, but they were no sagging dugs of an ancient crone. Claude had always thought Frederique was one of the most beautiful women in the world. But tonight, as with Aimée, he found his mind and body responding differently. Never before had he felt an inkling of desire toward his mother, but now he felt an animal attraction toward her and watched her with a new found hunger.

Unbidden, his hand found its way to his cock, which was ramrod stiff.

Forget she's your mother, he thought to himself. Think of her as a woman, a perfect woman, nothing more.

He tried his best to convince himself there was nothing different from this and times he had fantasized over the nude portraits in their house, or the occasions he had masturbated watching through the windows of the local whorehouse when he was in his early teens.

There were differences though. First, none of his other fantasy-subjects had looked anything like this. Second, this was his mother. Third, and worst of all was this destitute feeling in his soul which was calling...shouting for him to do something to fill it. Something sexual seemed what was most needed.

He pumped his cock harder and harder, watching his mother's amazing body through the viewer. If he hadn't known better, he would have thought she was putting on a show just for him. She stood and walked closer to where his viewer led to. He saw her peering right at him, and nearly panicked before he realized his view must come from behind the mirror in her room. She sat in front of the mirror and brushed her hair some more, this closer view was even more stimulating to Claude as he had an even better view of the details of her exquisite figure. The perfection went far beyond her breasts, which were faultless. It was everything. Her sultry green eyes and the way they glowed in her face. Her chin which led to her slender neck... Her skin was inevitably pale, given her lack of sunlight, but it was not stark white.

He watched her reach down and pick up a glass bottle full of pinkish fluid.

"Oh no mother," he muttered softly. "Don't do this to me."

Frederique loved her perfumes and she loved her oils. Their father often teased her about the expenses, and she teased back that he would give up buying her clothes before he would give up what she did to keep her skin soft for him.

That was just what she was doing now. Even though there was a wall between them, he could almost smell the aroma coming from the bottle when she opened it. It was her regular oil, a pure olive-oil base with a mixture of rose and orange essences mixed in.

He felt himself nearly erupt as she poured a dollop into her palm and spilled it down her neck. He slowed his stroking, wanting to extend this torturous pleasure as long as possible, feeding the needs of his body as well as he could.

He gasped as she began to rub the oil sensuously over her breasts and then spread it further, down her arms, on her neck, across her stomach. All of it was exciting him more and more.

Her hands returned to her breasts, and she began to circle her nipples slowly.

My god, thought Claude. Could she be?

She was. He watched her eyes close with pleasure as she circled her nipples with her slick finger then pinch each one in turn. Truly aroused, she kept one hand on her breast, massaging it, and then rubbed her neck with the other, tipping her head back in joy. The opening of the oil bottle was large, and she dipped two fingers into it.

Oh please, say you will.

She did. Claude stroked his full length slowly... keeping himself just on the edge as he watched her drop her oily hand to below her waist. He only wished he could see there, but the view didn't extend that far down.

Still, it was her face that was the most exciting thing to watch as she continued pleasuring herself. Claude nearly went again, but stopped, grasping the base of his shaft desperately. He was able to stop it, barely. A few drops of cum dripped out and dripped downward. He waited, hovering there on the edge as he watched Frederique's own passion increase. Once settled enough, he felt his shaft, grateful for the drops that had escaped... which he now used as lubricant. Frederique's joy was increasing, he watched her breathing quicken and her slow swaying increase in speed. He stroked faster but sadly noticed the cum-lotion dissipating, making him return to straight strokes. He knew he was approaching the point of no return and smiled as he saw his mother doing the same. Her body jerked with the first moment of climax, and he viewed that as his sign to release as well. The pleasure was immense as he and his mother (her unknowingly) came together. The first spray from his cock was immense. The next was almost as large and he sensed the hunger within him being fed. He kept stroking, and with each smaller spurt a disturbing malaise grew. He felt his body subside into a deep sadness. It was as though his body was angry at not having been satisfied in the appropriate way. Claude watched his mother's joy subside and envied her. The content grin on her face glowed as she breathed a happy sigh of conclusion. He pulled away from the view hole, cock in hand. Spent... but not satisfied.

"Shit!" Claude whispered and looked down at the damage he had wrought. Cum was dripping down the wall, but even worse, he had drizzled his cum all over his diagram of the painting, ruining it.

He wadded it up angrily, tossing it into the corner and then grabbing a cloth to clean up the rest.

There was almost a sense of anger inside him. It was like his body was punishing him for not delivering what it needed.

It's not my fault, thought Claude, irrationally trying to communicate with his body. Be quiet, let me sleep.

Of course it wouldn't. He tossed and turned for a while and then pulled out another sheet of paper and took more time, making an accurate diagram of the painting and discovering two more locations.

He went to bed and touched his cock... which was growing erect once more.

"What do you want?" he whispered, staring down at the object in question. "What more can I do?"

He knew what he could do, and almost clinically he stroked himself once more. It was not all that pleasurable, thought it did feed a small part of his longing. His greatest hope was this orgasm might let him get to sleep in the aftermath. His masturbation this time was no pleasure endeavor, though he did get some joy from the images of Frederique's stunning body which fueled his one-minded stroking. Sooner than he thought, he felt the fluid stirring deep within him and gasped with the usual bittersweet joy as the white goo shot forth onto his stomach. He fell asleep like that, cum spilled across his stomach and pooled in his belly button, hand on his cock.
Try though he might, his dreams were occupied by visions of his mother's curvaceous form... and of his sister's body pressed against his... and a bit more.






CHAPTER 2



Claude awoke; disappointed to see it was only six hours later. They were near the equator, so that meant at least another seven hours before they could go above decks. He went to the basin and washed himself of the salty crust that had remained on his belly from his exhausted efforts to get himself to sleep.

He threw some short breeches which were all he could stand to wear in the oppressive heat of the enclosed cabin. He crossed to the painting which offered him views of almost every area of the ship and took a quick survey. He checked his parents' room last and was grateful to see that they were fully clothed. His mother was sewing and his father was reading but there was nothing sexual going on there to arouse things within him.

He picked up his volume of Plato and decided to study the passage from the night before in earnest. He took a few notes as he went, and was just about to move to the next section when someone knocked at his door.

"Entré."

Aimée opened the door and came in, carrying a small wooden box beneath her arm.

She was dressed in a simple cotton shift which she'd had worn most nights since she was maybe thirteen or fourteen. The problem was she had grown in every possible way in the several years since she had purchased it. The hem barely reached her thighs. The neck had once been laced, but the cord had been lost. The open neck was loose and generous; the time-thinned fabric allowed her nipples to show through when she turned in the light a certain way.

She sat down on his bed opening the box, which was her travel chess kit.

"Play with me, Claude. I am so bored."

"Is that all you have to wear?" asked Claude.

"All that works for this heat," she said. "Like you, no?"

Claude nodded, not having a way to argue around his objection to her garment.

"Mon dieu I'm going crazy in this ship," sighed Aimée. "Wherever we settle, if it's with Mama and Papa or with my mate, I'm going to insist on miles of rooms underground.

"Miles?"

"Miles. I even want a tunnel, all the way around where we live so I can run, or bicycle or do anything I want."

"That could be expensive," reasoned Claude.

"I'll build it myself. I'll have time. Half of every day stuck inside. What would you do? For your house, what would you build into it?"

Claude glanced up at the painting, recalling the joy it had given him.

"I would build viewers," he said.

"Viewers?"

"Oui. Periscopes, immense periscopes built into the walls of my house so I could watch the outside world."

"But the sun?" said Aimée, curiously.

"Smoked glass. Pass the light through the right sort, you could still see but you would run no risk."

"That's brilliant!" said Aimée. "Where did you come up with such an idea?"

"Oh, just musing."

"It's perfect. Claude, let's build a house together like the Lumiere's back home. When we find our mates we can build a huge place with our combined money. I get my tunnel, you get your periscopes. I would live in the west wing with my husband; you would live in the east with your wife."

"Perhaps," said Claude. "Now tell me, how many moves do you think it will take for me to beat you today? Four? Five?

"I'm getting better. Today is my day. I can feel it."

Claude had always been the superior chess player. It wasn't necessarily because of brains, but emotions. Aimée played with her heart -- only seeing the chance to take a piece without considering the implications two or three moves later. If she could take a knight, it was far more exciting to notice she might be putting her Queen at risk.

Today would be different, and it was her nightgown that was the culprit. The board set, Aimée leaned over and grabbed a black and white pawn, shifting them behind her back and then holding out her hands.

"Choose," she said.

Claude was still lingering on the seconds before, when her leaning had given him a full view of her amazing breasts, even a glimpse of her nipples. He found himself contemplating the vision from the night before. His mother had a woman's breasts; breasts which had nursed children and filled out with the years. Aimée's were a girl's breasts - or perhaps better described as a young woman's. They were high, proud, pert and round. He found himself contemplating the differences when Aimée's voice re-awoke him.

"Claude. Choose!" she said. "Which hand?"

"Oh, sorry," said Claude and pointed to her left hand. He was already at a disadvantage, the pawn was black.

'Shut up body, shut up!' Claude uttered in his mind.

The voice inside him did not listen. He found himself growing more and more distracted by her sitting across from him.

With mortal girls, there was so much about blood. When he was around them, especially if he had yet to have his daily dose, he was always keenly aware of the odor of their blood and of a dormant longing that wished for it.

With Aimée, there was none of that. He could smell her... but it wasn't her blood his body was longing for... it was her.

"Why did you do that?" asked Aimée.

"Do what?" asked Claude.

"Give me your Bishop? Why did you give it to me so easily? What are you planning Claude?"

He was in fact, planning nothing. She studied the board for clues, while he studied her.

The game dragged on. Soon, Claude made another blunder and Aimée looked down at the board in shock, moving her queen to the base row.

"Checkmate! I won!" she said, exhilarated. "I won! It has been years since I won. Oh my god, there is no stopping me now Claude. Let's play again!"

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, again affording him a magnificent view.

The next game didn't go much better. Midway through, Aimée asked him a question which threw his concentration off even more.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Does what hurt?"

"Your erection. Does it hurt like that?"

"Oh... I uh..."

Claude had been so entranced by her presence he had been entirely unaware of the happenings below. He quickly grabbed his pillow and covered it.

"Don't be embarrassed Claude. I am not an infant. Mother told me of such things. She said that young men, they cannot control this thing. It will get hard at any time it pleases, no?"

"Yes, it can."

"And I know it isn't for me, my frère. Brother of mine." she said, punching his arm.

"No, of course not, you are my sister. I'll tell it to go down."

"But does it? Does it hurt?"

"Uh, yes and no," said Claude, blushing furiously but trying to seem unaffected in his tone.

"What do you mean?" asked Aimée.

"Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"Very well, if it has been a while, since..."

"Relief?" said Aimée.

"Yes, since relief. If it has been a while since relief, it can be almost sore. In general though, it is just... embarrassing, but not unpleasant."

"I see," said Aimée, shrugging her shoulders and focusing her attention back on the chess game.

The embarrassment actually helped to quell the lust that had been distracting him so. He was able to draw the second game out and eventually win.

"My first game must have been luck," said Aimée, pouting.

"No. No, you're getting so much better," said Claude, touching her shoulder comfortingly.

He immediately regretted the touch. Everything which had subsided, the lust, the longing - it was reawakened with violent force. His nerves jangled at the touch, so much that he almost jerked back his hand as if she had been a hot stove. He stopped himself at the last moment, gently removing his hand, fighting every impulse within him that wanted to pull her into his arms.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Nearly five," he said, helping her put away the pieces. He relished and feared the occasional touch of their hands.

"An hour and a half and we can emerge. Fresh air. Do you know something else I'm going to do with our house?"

"Oh, it's our house now?"

"Yes, I've decided and you have no choice in the matter. Here's what I want. No matter where the basement, how large -- I want a way to get fresh air in at all times. In here, it is so stuffy. In our basement back home, it could be stifling. Fans, ducts, we must find a way to always have clean air."

As you wish, mon capitan," said Claude.

She placed the chess board on the bed, and then flopped over, putting her head in his lap on the pillow.

"How long?" she asked. "How much longer until we arrive?"

"The same answer as yesterday, minus one. This is a fast ship. The captain has made this run more than once in thirty-five days. We've been over twenty so far. Twenty more days, give or take, if the winds hold."

"Too long. Are you sure it doesn't hurt?"

"What?"

"This thing I'm feeling through the pillow," she said, laughing.

"Go back to your room and leave me alone," he said.

"So grumpy. I suppose if I was swollen like that, I'd feel the same."

"Get out!"

"Calm down, you great baby. You can tease me about my tits for a year. Tit for tat, Claude. So get some control of your tat."

He slammed the door behind her. He was thankful she'd left. Between his anger and the fact she was no longer present, the blur that had been affecting him lifted.

He lay and read a book for the next two hours. He suddenly noticed an odd feeling in his stomach. Something was wrong. He couldn't figure out what it was, but something was definitely awry. He went back to his painting and looked out at the main deck. Sailors were standing around on deck idly. He switched over to the crow's nest and looked out on the ocean to see the waves. That was it. That was the thing bothering him; there were no waves. They were entirely becalmed. The surface of the water was eerily glass-like; the clouds overhead were reflected in the water below.

Aimée came bursting into his room, barely giving him time to flip the viewer shut.

"What's going on? Why are we stopped?"

"I don't know. It seems there is no wind."

"No wind, but that would put us here longer."

"Yes. We'll have to wait and talk to the captain."

The next hour seemed endless with the quiet and stillness of the ship. Claude dealt with it by reading. Aimée paced endlessly up and down the hall, entirely unnerved by the change and the possibility it would delay them too long at sea.

At last, the bosun's whistle blew and they heard the march of feet upon the deck and down the ladders below. This was a disciplined crew, and part of their terms of service meant that only the necessary men would stay above-deck during evening hours. When the only passengers were men, it wasn't an issue, but with two such attractive women aboard the captain had insisted on invoking that particular rule.

"I'm going up," said Aimée, waiting at the door.

"Not yet, Aimée," said their Father. "Let Claude and I go first and assure the crew is below."

Claude and his father passed through the first door, closing it behind them. Opening the second door brought the usual relief. Claude and his father smiled at each other at the fresh air wafting in. The captain met them at the top of the ladder.

"Well captain Hubert, what seems to be the problem."

The captain was British, but not the stuffy kind. He had worked his way up through the ranks and proven himself in battle. He was one of the best you could find, and enjoyed his employ by the Council.

"Just a touch of the doldrums, Mr. Dujobe," he said, smiling.

"A touch?"

"I'm not too concerned. This isn't the time of year for it. My guess is we'll have our wind back by morning. But for now, we will not move."

"Ah well, at least we have fresh air," said Palo.

"Yes. Tell me Mr. Dujobe, does your family swim?"

"Yes, all of us."

"Excellent. The sails are tied, the men are below... and there's not even any need for me to be here. I give you the ship. Should the wind pick up, I may ask you to return below deck so we can sail again, but for now... enjoy yourselves."

Aimée and their mother had just appeared when Claude was already stripping down to just his short breeches.

"Swimming," said Claude, dashing for the head of the ship.

Swimming twice in two days, such a welcome relief from the daily routine. He dove into the water in a graceful arc and Palo soon dove in beside him.

They splashed away, reveling in the exercise they'd been missing. Soon, Frederique and Aimée appeared on the deck. Frederique wore a loose corset and bloomers, Aimée wore a pair of short breeches and a shirt, tied in the middle.

"What are you wearing?" asked Claude.

"What does it look like?"

"Are those mine? I didn't say you could have my clothes."

"Did you expect me to swim in a dress? Father certainly wouldn't let me swim naked."

"This is true," said their father.

"Now get out of the way."

Aimée dove in with a graceful dive, disappearing below the water and surfacing beside Claude a few seconds later.

Frederique added her own touch of style. She levitated out directly from the ship for a few feet, and then she turned with a wink, shrugging, and released herself, falling whimsically into the water below.

"That's no fair," said Aimée. "I cannot wait until I awaken, then I will fly to the moon and beyond."

They swam together as a family for well over an hour. They had races, and played games of endurance, seeing who could stay below the water for the longest time. During a break, Aimée looked up at the sky and sighed.

"So beautiful," she said. "And the moon, it's so bright I can almost imagine it is the sun... or the closest I'll ever get to knowing it.

"Yes," said Frederique. "It's almost full. The last time I saw a sea like this, it was the Mediterranean. Do you remember? In Tunisia, Palo?"

"Of course I do," he agreed. "It was our honeymoon."

"How did you get there?" asked Aimée.

"In a ship much like this one," said their mother.

"We sailed from Gibraltar and through the Mediterranean to Tunis," said Palo. "There was a family there, a wonderful family. The Massris."

"There were so... hospitable," said Frederique with a gleam in her eye.

"Yes, yes indeed they were," said Palo, smiling. "And their house was so amazing. They had discovered an ancient roman bath house, simply sealed up and forgotten. Like many baths, it was built below ground. They simply built their house above, renovated the baths, and that is where they spent their days."

"Both salt and fresh water, continued Frederique. "They had a large pool of both types twenty-five yards apiece. Plus, hot pools and cold pools. Darling do you remember..."

She nuzzled up against Palo, whispering in his ear.

"Oh yes," he said, "How could I forget that?"

"Children," she said, smiling. "We're going to go for a swim on the other side of the ship. Why don't you stay here?"

"For how long?" asked Aimée, slyly.

"For a while." she said. "We'll let you know."

They rolled their eyes as their parents swam around the prow and out of site.

"Now we can really race," said Aimée. No more of these short bursts.

"What will we race to?" asked Claude. "There is no goal; we can't race around the ship."

Aimée considered this for a moment.

"Wait here," she said.

She swam casually, but efficiently about a quarter mile out from the ship. Claude couldn't make out what she was doing, but soon she was returning... and there was a white object floating back where she'd been. He watched her return, and realized she was no longer wearing the shirt. He could see her bare back as she stroked easily through the water.

"What did you do?"

"I filled the sleeve with air and tied it. It will give us a goal and if you don't go, you'll never see your shirt again."

"What will father say?" asked Claude. You know how he doesn't like you naked."

"You can't see anything. I'm under water."

That was mostly true, though her breasts bobbed deliciously just below the surface.

"And," she continued, "I'm not wearing these either. They don't fit, and they slow me down."

She reached down the below the surface, treading water awkwardly and then pulling up her hand to reveal his breeches. She hung them on the lowest rung of the rope ladder.

"You can do the same," she said. "It might be your only chance of beating me."

She was right. He was physically stronger, and often the faster runner but she was a natural fish and had always been the victor in the water. He considered his mental state, and decided it wasn't much of a risk. He'd had very few 'wrong' thoughts while in the water, and a race would certainly be distracting.

"All right sister," he said, removing his own pants. "Is it a race there, or there and back?"

"Just there, so we can retrieve your shirt."

"Good point," said. Claude. "On your mark, get set... Hey!"

Aimée had already pushed off of the ship and was on her way.

Claude forgot everything but the race, and as he did a curious thing happened. He was so intently focused on what he was doing that he found himself growing lighter. It was as if he was a piece of wood atop the water, he felt so light. For the first time in a long while, he was able to look back him and see Aimée far behind him. He continued his feverish pace and finished a good seven lengths ahead of her. What's more, once he arrived, he was barely winded. He treaded water and waited for her to reach him.

"My god you were fast!" said Aimée, gasping for breath.

"I was...lucky. Besides, you had already swum out to deliver the shirt.

"No, I swam easily then. Besides, I cheated and pushed away early."

"Strange day," said Claude. "First you beat me at chess, now I beat you at swimming.

Aimée really had put everything into her effort. He recovered his breath first while she was still gasping in air in deep breaths.

"Are you rested?" she asked.

"Yes, surprisingly."

"Good, then you can let me rest on you a little while."

She swam up to him and clasped herself to him. Resting her head against his neck, her body floated in against his side.

This time the shock of recognition was like a lightning bolt that went through his body. Every one of his senses cried out for her, ached for her. He did everything he could to suppress his desires, knowing how wrong this all was.

"Claude, is something wrong?" asked Aimée, whose breathing was recovering.

"No Aimée, no."

"But you are shaking. Why? The water isn't cold."

"No, no it isn't cold."

He couldn't even look in her eyes. She kept her hold around his neck, but drifted around to directly face him.

"Claude, what is it?"

"Nothing," he said.

"But it is something. What is wrong?"

Her body drifted into him again and her leg brushed against his cock... which did hurt, from longing."

"Oh my," she said.

"Oh my god, Aimée," he groaned. He pulled her into him, every part of his body loving the feel of her flesh against his. Her breasts on his skin, her leg against his cock; every place where they touched seemed to drive his lust to an even higher level.

He lost his concentration, ceasing to tread water with his free hand. They went plunging into the water as he kissed her desperately below the surface. She struggled and pushed herself away from him. They both surfaced, sputtering.

"What are you doing!" she screamed. She looked at him with a mixture of fear and disgust. Recognition was beginning to dawn on her features.

"Claude, today you were odd, and you were hard. Now, you do this! Claude, I'm your sister!"

"Aimée, I wish could explain," he stammered.

"Do you honestly want me like that? Your own relative?"
"The answer is yes and no. I do not want you. Claude does not want Aimée. But something within me does. Aimée, I am so sorry."

"How could you?" said Aimée. "Your own flesh and blood. What is wrong with you?"

"I don't know. Just... just stay away from me for the rest of the voyage. When we get to America... well, we won't have a house together. We needn't even choose the same city."

He swam dejectedly back to the ship. He grabbed his breeches from the rope ladder, ascended, and walked sadly into his cabin where he lay on his bed impassively. Perhaps half an hour later he heard a knock on his door.

"Entré'" he said.

It was his father.

"What did you say to your sister?" Palo asked.

"Nothing. Nothing, father."

"Nonsense, you said something."

"It's personal, between us," said Claude, not wanting to explain any more.

His father didn't pursue it any further, and left.

Soon Claude heard the women return. It sounded as if Aimée threw herself on her bed and he heard sobbing coming through her wall. Another knock on the door.

"Yes?"

His mother came in, carrying a cup. He turned his head to the wall, not even wanting to look at her.

"Go away."

"If you wish, but first you must drink."

He reluctantly turned to her, sitting up to take the goblet she offered. This was a large serving of blood, mixed with wine this time.

"Would you like to talk?"

"No mother, I would not like to talk. I am sick."

"I talked with Aimée. It is true, you are sick."

"You think so, too?" He turned to hers with tears spilling down his face.

"Yes cheri, you are sick. We all are. It is called the Affliction, as you know."

"That is no excuse. You should have seen the look on her face, mother. Aimée, my sister, I can never repair that. She doesn't understand."

"No, not yet. But she will soon. Do not despair about Aimée. Time heals many things; this will be one of them. "

She reached up to smooth his hair.

"Don't touch me, Mother. Please."

"Very well," said Frederique, smiling sadly. "Listen to me Claude. You are beginning to awaken."

"No."

"Yes. I thought I felt something yesterday. You should have told me."

"Mother, I couldn't."

"Claude. These things, these feelings, they are not wrong, they are inevitable."

"No, they're not."

"Yes, they are and we will talk more of this later. Try to rest."

She returned to her cabin.

Perhaps an hour passed and the boat rocked curiously. Claude went to the painting and selected the crow's nest. The wind was whistling through the ropes. He saw the captain stand on deck and blow a whistle, and the sailors appeared shortly thereafter. It was a marvel to watch them at work, climbing the riggings, unfurling the sails. The reaction was almost instantaneous as the sails dropped down and the wind filled them... he felt a gentle lurch as they began their journey forward once again.

He longed to go into Aimée's room and tell her of the happenings. Sadly, he knew he couldn't and he closed the viewer and sat back on his bed, full of melancholy.

As he sat there in self-imposed exile in the confines of his room, something occurred to him. Though the viewer in the painting led to many areas of the ship, it didn't show everywhere. It just seemed odd that someone would go to so much expense and trouble without accounting for every room in the ship. He turned curiously to the other painting, the portrait of the woman. Running his fingers over the surface, it all felt smooth... except another rectangle around the eyes. She was wearing a jewel necklace. Reaching down to the emerald in the center of the string, he pushed and smiled as her eyes flipped to reveal another rectangle. Looking in, he saw a wonderful view from the aft deck, looking back on the wake of the ship. Another showed the rear deck. Two of the views were equally wonderful; showing the port and starboard views. The next startled him... it was Aimée's room. She was lying on the bed in her nightgown, weeping. He so wished to run to her, to comfort her... but it was too late for that, AND he couldn't trust himself once he was there. He wished he could at least hear her voice, to be that much closer to her. Putting his hand up to the painting as he peered closer into the viewer, he felt an odd ridge under his fingers. Pulling back, he discovered the pearl earring of the woman was also raised. Pushing it, he smiled to see her other ear flip open. Suddenly, the sniffling of his sister was clearly audible.

"Oh Claude," she whispered. "Why?"

She crossed toward him... again, the mirror, he suspected. She wiped her eyes and gazed at herself in the mirror.

"It's these," she said, angrily pushing on her breasts through her gown. "If I didn't have these he would still be my brother and he would not want me."

She was clearly exhausted; her eyes had bags under them and were half-lidded.

"It will be better tomorrow," she said. "Mama said sleep, wait. Things will look better. I don't know how, but I must."

She crossed to her bed and Claude unconsciously caressed the wall as he watched her fall asleep.

Sealing up the wall the painting, he crossed again to the ship painting. This one must also have a listening piece. Searching for clues, he considered the idea of sound. There in the foreground was a bugle, resting on a railing. He reached to feel it, and was surprised he had missed it before. The bell of the bugle was actually metal, not painted, and it was affixed to the painting. Digging his fingers under the surface, he found that it pulled away, and it was attached to a string... or more like a tube below. He looked at the device from every angle then followed his suspicion. Pressing the crow's nest button, he looked in the viewer and held the brass disk up to his ear. He heard wind, footsteps, and a tuneless humming coming from the sailor on watch.

He took a scan around the ship, listening and watching. He did not have the emotional energy to view his parents' room just now, and found he was weary like his sister from the day's exercise and emotional exertions. He lay down, nearly falling asleep... when his parents started up again.

For perhaps five minutes, he resisted. Then, he rationalized his actions, saying to himself: How much worse can I get. I have lusted after my mother, attacked my sister, I might as well watch my parents fucking.

His acerbic wish was certainly granted once he opened the viewer. Directly between the mirror and the bed, his mother was kneeling before his father and taking his cock into her mouth.

"Do you like that, Cheri?" she said, gazing up at Palo.

"You know I do," he said, "now do the thing I enjoy the most."

She licked the tip slowly, then flicked her tongue quicker and quicker. Palo groaned with pleasure as she tortured him that way for several minutes. Then she took him into her mouth. Claude watched with amazement as she slowly took his father's large cock in. First into her mouth, and then toward the back... and slowly, slowly down her throat. She had been kneeling, but as she took Palo further and further in, she leaned back, and sat on the floor. Palo towered above her and began to work himself slowly in and out of Frederique's throat. Claude had seen one or two girls in the brothel who could do this, but only for a few moments before needing to breathe. Frederique had no such need and held her breath for what seemed like a minute at a time.

Claude watched in wonder as she even worked Palo's cock with her throat muscles, swallowing to grip her throat around him and bring him more pleasure. An odd metaphor came to mind for Claude. A few years before, a painter had appeared on their doorstep, offering to paint their portraits. He had allowed Claude and Aimée to watch him paint... and it had been fascinating to see him work. Each stroke, each touch displayed the painter's mastery. Watching his mother, Claude had a similar feeling. She was a true artist in the arena of pleasure. He supposed having nearly six hundred years practice would help one hone their skills, and it was obvious she had been 'honing' studiously over the course of her in her long life.

She worked Palo faster and faster down her throat and his groans increased. Claude felt his own erection growing insistent, but turned away from the view hole to talk to directly to his pulsating member.

"Shut up," he whispered. "I can't give you what you want... and you will only be unhappy with me afterward. I have nothing for you."

He grinned as it actually seemed his cock dwindled a bit on these words. It was probably caused by the pause in watching his parents, but he still was glad for the first chance to smile since the incident with Aimée.

Still with the stethoscope-type device to his ear, he heard his father's groans growing more urgent. He turned to the viewer and looked through to see his mother working his father's cock rapidly up and down her throat, until finally Palo's body tensed and he pulled out of her."

"Aahhh," screamed Palo, and a huge explosion of white burst out of his cock, splattering Frederique's face and down her gorgeous breasts.

"Yes, mon cher, yes." murmured Frederique as Palo spilled volumes of cum over her body. Smiling, she stood and then did a truly amazing thing. She looked down at her breasts, and held her hand in a scooping motion... with her levitating power she swooped the cum off of her body, and then off of her face, so a small shimmering globe of what was suspended in front of her. The volume had been large, and the globe was the size of a very large marble. Frederique pulled the globe toward her face, and opened her lips extra wide to allow it in. She closed her mouth, and then swallowed it all in one gulp.

"Mmm," she said, wiping her lips of the small amount that had dripped out. She whispered, "Delicious. Un down, deux to go. Now Palo, we must be more quiet, it isn't fair to poor Claude."

"I'll try."

Palo took Frederique into his arms, and they kissed passionately. Claude watched with admiration at their two bodies and how they matched together so well. His father was a large, powerful man with rich dark skin and a stunning natural physique that was enhanced even further by the strength given by the Affliction. Frederique possessed her own, feminine strength. Her full breasts and round hips were so perfect, so stunning that Claude felt the desire stir within him anew at her flawless body.

Reflecting on art, the two of them paired were ne plus ultra, Claude could not imagine a more beautiful sight.

Palo reached down with his hand, grasping Frederique's pussy with a firm yet gentle passion to which she responded instantly. Gone was her vocal lovemaking of the night before, to be replaced by hesitant gasps. What she couldn't know was how much more her restraint excited Claude because he was watching and listening with growing excitement. Palo worked seemed to have acquired skills of his own in his shorter life, because his touch on her had her panting with joy. As she neared climax, Palo paused and knelt before her. With his tongue and his hands, he began bringing her to even greater heights. Claude became the student now, watching as his father worked his fingers into Frederique's pussy while licking her firmly. His free hand brushed upward to her breasts; sometimes massaging an amazing breast, sometimes pinching her nipple. Her knees started to buckle and she fell back onto the bed, her legs over the edge. Palo buried his head between her legs and began licking her in long strokes, Frederique gasping every time he reached the top and brushed her clit. He continued this motion without fail and her breaths grew shorter and louder each time, more voice and less breath entering each gasp. Making use of his hand once more, Palo pushed his fingers in and concentrated his tongue solely on her clit with his tongue.

Her moan started low and quiet, but raised in volume as her body began to spasm uncontrollably. Palo stayed with her as long as he could, licking her into a further frenzy until she pushed him away and lay on her side, nearly screaming with joy.

"What happened to quiet?" asked Palo, smiling.

"I know. I am so sorry. I pray he's asleep."

Not likely, mother, thought Claude to himself. You would have wakened the dead with those cries.

Her cries had the expected effect on him though. Unwittingly, he found his hand on his cock, stroking himself slowly. No, he thought, angrily. I don't need this madness, this frustration.

"Time for three," said Palo, smiling.

"Yes, mon cher. What do you think? Shall we fly tonight?"

"I don't know, the swimming took away my energy," said Palo, half-reluctantly.

"For me?" she half-pouted.

"For you, very well."

What followed was something Claude had never imagined... and something he very much looked forward to trying if flight should be his gift.

Frederique began. Effortlessly, she lifted off of the floor and suspended herself horizontally above the floor. Gliding down, using nothing but her mouth, she sucked hungrily on Palo's dark cock... bringing him to full hardness. Palo remained in her mouth, and lifted himself as well. As gracefully as mating eagles, he twisted around to lower his mouth down on her pussy. Uncaring of their place in the room, they glided gracefully around the cabin, sometimes bumping against a ceiling or wall to drift slowly in the opposite direction.

Having excited each other enough in this way, they separated and flew to a vertical position a few feet apart, facing each other.

Frederique grinned and twisted to lie on her back in the air, gesturing with both hands to Palo to come to her. He remained vertical, and drifted toward her. Holding his cock in his hand and pointing it toward her, he entered her... she pushing toward him at the right moment. They began a rhythm there, pushing back and forth toward each other. There was no quickening, rather a slow deliberate motion they found that kept each of them near the precipice of orgasm. Palo soon shifted to match her horizontal state so it appeared as though they were resting on an invisible bed. Though their motions were easier, uninhibited by gravity or the friction of sheets.

The one thing not lacking was imagination. They drifted from horizontal to vertical, then twisted and were fucking inverted in the air. Claude smiled as his mother pulled her legs up to her chest (all the while keeping his father's cock within her) and then twisted around so he was behind her. Grabbing her hips he began pounding into her with a fierce intensity. After an exhausting sequence of these motions, they broke apart, panting for breath.

For the first time, he noticed a strain on his father's face. Frederique's effortless skill was clearly evident, here. Claude realized his parents had been airborne for at least twenty minutes. Twenty minutes was a considerable feat by itself. Add in coupling and Claude was very impressed.

Frederique glided to her dresser before the mirror and scooped up a flask of orange-ish oil and returned to Palo.

"I need you in my ass," she whispered, insistently.

Palo hovered to a horizontal position on his back and Frederique flew above him. She drizzled the oil down onto his cock and he massaged it over the length of his shaft. Claude had never felt any longing for men - but all the same he had to admire the physical beauty of his father's shaft, glistening and proud, black and tall as he held it ready for Frederique.

She took a handful of the oil and poured it into the air, where it stayed suspended. Directing it with her mind, it flew around to her back and landed at the top of the crack in her ass to drip slowly down to help in her readiness.

Palo flew to suspend himself about two feet above the bed, and Frederique glided above him, facing Claude in the mirror.

"I am so ready for this," she whispered, and lowered herself down onto his waiting shaft.

There was no hesitation... no gradual push. Frederique simply pushed him into her ass and groaned at the impact as he split her fully open. Claude had a curious image of a puppet master above them as they worked back and forth in the air. Though he could no longer see his father's face, he could tell from Palo's strained groans that the effort was becoming more and more difficult. It seemed Frederique was only getting started, her face bore an enraptured expression and she pushed more of Palo's length into her with selfish abandon. Her moans changed to girl-like squeals as she pushed down upon him harder and harder.

"Fuck me," she squealed. "Fuck my ass, Palo. I need this... please, please!"

"I'm ready," grunted Palo.

"Oh good. Split me open, my love. You know how."

Palo's groans grew louder.

"Yes," he moaned. "Yes. Yes. Now!!!"

With that, both Palo and Frederique released their flight and came plummeting onto the bed below. Palo screamed a guttural groan of pleasure, but Frederique's scream was one of pure, yet blissful anguish as Paulo's cock ripped into with the force of their falling gravity.

"Mon dieu!" she screamed, "Mon dieu, mon dieu, mon dieu."

Tears were dripping from her eyes from the agony. Had Frederique been mortal, Claude would have had grave concerns for her well-being. However, he had seen enough injuries among the Afflicted and knew what was coming next. He was fascinated by the creativity of this sexual coupling. His mother had intentionally taken the pain because she knew she could. This was such an inventive idea, to use the healing powers of the Affliction to heighten both pain and pleasure and also mix the two at the same time. With this final thrust, Palo's reserve evaporated and his face was a mask of orgasmic bliss as he pumped into his mate's plundered ass.

Frederique pulled off of Palo, sobbing cries which were a mix of ecstasy and pain. Palo took her in his arms.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes, just hold me, darling. I'll be ready soon."

He hushed into her hear, holding her as she rocked back and forth. Soon, as her body rapidly healed, only the pleasure remained and she smiled. Wiping away the tears from her face, she turned and kissed Palo gently.

"Oh my love, you fed my hungry friend well tonight. Very well. You get some sleep. I wore you out, no?"

"Yes. How can you not be tired?" asked Palo, his eyes already nearly shut.

"Practice, my love. Practice."

Palo reclined back, his eyes already drooping from physical exhaustion and post-coital drowsiness.

"There you go, rest."

Frederique reached to the cabinet at her bedside and picked up her hair brush. Claude realized the hair-brushing must be a post-sex ritual for her. Palo was nearly asleep and murmured, "Good day, mon cher." as he drifted all the way gone.

Claude watched his mother with the same fascination as he had the night before. Still, he was able to resist the longing within him and he refused to touch himself with any purpose. It wasn't easy, watching his mother brush her hair there in the nude, recalling the images of the amazing sexual gymnastics he had just witnessed. Perhaps due to the emotional ordeal he had been through, he somehow resisted the urge and simply watched this beautiful woman grooming her beautiful brown hair.

Checking to see if Palo was asleep; Frederique rose and walked toward the mirror. Though Claude had shown great restraint, he closed the viewer when he saw her pick up the rose-infused oil. He knew he would not be able to resist touching himself any further if he watched her oil that magnificent body, just a few feet beyond him.

Claude removed the light breeches he'd donned after swimming and lay down upon his mattress. His cock was still terribly rigid. Had Aimée been there, he would have told her, 'yes, this hurts'.
A great battle was raging inside of him. He was determined not to feed this unnatural hunger. He found his hand moving involuntarily toward his cock several times, but fought the impulse and stared at the ceiling. He looked at the wooden slats, trying to absorb his thoughts in finding patterns in the grain. It almost seemed to be working, when a light tap came at his door.

Could it be Aimée, wondered Claude. He couldn't imagine her being ready to be near him, no matter what his mother had said.

He scooped up the sheet and wrapped it around himself, crossing to the door.

"Hello?" he whispered.

"Claude, it is mother. Let me in."

He opened the door and his mother entered. She was dressed in a silk robe which was tied very loosely and concealed very little of the treasures beneath. In her hand, she had the rose-infused oil and a small towel.

"We need to talk, Claude."

"Very well."

"You come and lay down. We have much to discuss."

"All right mother, I just need to put some..."

"Don't worry about clothes," she said, "the sheet will suffice."

Claude's mother took the key by the door, and locked it.

Claude lay down, curious at his mother's businesslike manner, and also embarrassed by the large erection he still suffered from - much of it due to her. He lay on his side, head propped in his hand, trying to shield his cock from pushing out against the sheet.

She sat beside him on the bed, adjusting her robe slightly, but not really closing it.

"Tonight, my son, I am the professor, and you are the pupil. The topic at hand is morality, specifically, as it pertains to the Afflicted."

With all of his angst, Claude somehow still found a sense of humor.

"Should I take notes, Professor?" he asked.

"I don't think you'll need to. I doubt you'll forget anything I say this evening. I know we are supposed to use English, but would you mind if I switched to Francais, it is so much easier for me to make myself understood."

"Feel free."

Frederique switched to her native language, and it made a difference both in her descriptiveness, and the tone of what was to follow.

(Note; the tale will remain in English for the purpose of simplicity.)

"Claude... the first of the Afflicted appeared on an island in the Mediterranean nearly one-thousand eight-hundred years ago. There were many stops and starts, but by the time of the fall of Rome, the Council was formed and the lives and rules of the Afflicted were formalized. One of the greatest challenges facing the Afflicted was adjusting to a new morality.

To date, you have been raised mostly with your father's morals. You must understand something. Though your father is Afflicted, he is not Afflicted-born and he is young - barely 80 years old. He was raised in a Muslim household, and tutored by Christian scholars. He is still adjusting to the ways and morals of the Afflicted. Thus far, I have acceded to his wishes of raising you with his values because they were not necessarily harmful to you. But now, you are of age, and it is time you learn more. I would ask that you reveal nothing that passes between us in this room to your father."

"As you wish, Mother."

"Claude, mortals have many rules. Some of those rules make sense, and some are ridiculous. Yet, most of them are quite practical at their root. When it comes to morality, many of the rules mortals live by have great justification. Marriage, monogamy, coupling - those rules spring from lives that only last sixty, seventy years and are best served by the institution of marrying one partner who is of distant blood-relation.

As you know, we of the Afflicted live much longer. Many human rules do not apply well to us for that very reason. There is something else that comes into play. That factor is the Affliction itself. Here is where my true lecture begins. I would like to tell you what I learned from Galen."

"Galen? The Greek physician?" inquired Claude.

"The same."

"Mother, I know you are old, but he lived in the time of the Romans and must have died then, too. Wait, do you mean that he was..."

"Yes. He actually was called to assist the very first of the Afflicted. He was able to ascertain the nature of the condition and insisted that he be infected himself. He arranged to have it seem like he died, and continued to study medicine - especially the Affliction. He is still alive and is the greatest scientist in the world after over a millennia and a half to study and research. I've been lucky enough to hear him speak many times. While some us can fly, and some have other abilities given them by the Affliction, Galen's talent is the ability to see into the human body. All he needs to do is touch a patient, and he can tell them if it is their heart that failing, or an unknown tumor, or anything.

"He studied every aspect of the Affliction. He was the first to call it symbiotic. Our condition helps us, but it expects help in return. Now, for the great revelation that I wish to tell you. For so long, people attributed the Affliction to blood. They thought it lived in the blood and lived only for the blood of others.

"Doesn't it?" asked Claude, confused.

"The blood is the means of transmission - but the true place where the Affliction lives is in the nerves of our bodies. It inhabits our very skin. Galen calls it our sensory system. The way he put it, the Affliction is a very simple-minded creature. It only sees things in black and white. Friend or enemy, good or bad, pain or pleasure; that is how it 'thinks'. One of the needs of the Affliction is to kill its enemies. That is why we thirst for blood, to slake the thirst of protection. Galen was the one who discovered it only took a few drops of blood to convince the Affliction it was being nourished. That's why we merely need a few ounces once a day to keep our blood hunger in check."

"He has also discovered that it is pleasure that truly feeds the Affliction. When Galen first looked into the nerves of a mortal, as opposed to the nerves of an Afflicted he was shocked at the difference. The Afflicted's nerves were entirely different; they were teeming with tiny pieces of the Affliction that seemed to be dancing around. Galen looked into the skin, and it was the same. Noticing the pleasure we felt when we touched others of the Afflicted - he theorized that it was a survival mechanism of the illness. If the Affliction can feel others of its kind, it is the most comforted.

"Galen performed countless experiments. Using the methods started by the Greeks, he separated out three groups for one week. The first group, he asked to lay with their chosen partners, those who had been joined in the blood ceremony. The second, he asked to only sleep with mortals - or to pleasure themselves, to masturbate. The third, he asked to entirely abstain. By the end of the week, the group that slept with their kind was full of a healthy Affliction. Looking into their bodies, Galen could see massive life coursing through their sensory systems - especially directly after sex. As for the group that was with mortals -- the healthy 'glow' was drastically less, and he described a red color in the Afflicted elements in their system. It was almost like the Affliction was angry at its hosts for not letting it be in communion with its own kind."

Claude felt a strange recognition, understanding the condition Frederique was describing.

"Now, for the last group, the group that abstained, the nerves were shrunken, smaller than the nerves in a regular mortal. It was as though the Affliction had despaired from loneliness. You see, the Affliction must have that daily reassurance of intimacy with others who also carry it."

"There is one more part of the experiment I need to tell you. Galen ran another test. With this one, he set aside three more groups. The first, were legitimate blood partners - either Afflicted who had taken a mortal to mate by biting them, or Afflicted-born who had joined each other through the blood ceremony. The second group consisted of non-connected individuals; people from vastly different families or geographic locations. These two groups, he asked to have frequent sex, more even than usual. His findings; the first group, the mates; the amount of life in them was stunning and they were more healthy than any specimens he had ever seen. It was as though the Affliction was joyful at the companionship, at the affirmation that it was with its kind. The second group, those who slept with other Afflicted - in general they were fine. They were not necessarily bursting with life, but they certainly weren't suffering either.

"But you mentioned three groups," said Claude. "What of the third?"

"The third, yes that one is important. Claude, as I have told you, you are beginning to awaken. The Affliction has come to life within you. The moon is coming full, you are of age. These things you are feeling, and I know you are feeling them, they are the Affliction calling out for one of its kind."

"But there is nobody here."

"This is true, are there are no other Afflicted aboard -- any member of our kind could certainly keep you sated for the time-being. It is now we must speak of the third group in Galen's experiment."

Frederique reached over and stroked his shoulder; touching him for the first time since she had entered the room. The effect was immediate. Claude's body cried out at her touch. Images of her naked and coupling sprang into his mind and fueled his longing. He shuddered, but tried not to show his reaction.

"Claude, dearest. The third group contained direct relatives. First cousins. Fathers and daughters. Brothers and sisters. Mothers and sons."

With that last she stroked his cheek tenderly.

"Sacre bleu! The monstrosity!" cried out Claude.

In his shock, Claude barely noticed his mother's hand which was now stroking his chest - fueling his hunger even more.

"Call it what you will, but would you like to know the results of the experiment Galen performed among relatives?"

"No."

"I will tell you, all the same. There was no difference in the results between the first and the third groups. The Affliction knew it was close to its own brethren, and it cared nothing for the customs of humanity. It knew what it wanted, and it took it. Whether bloodmates or family members, the Affliction only knew that it was happy and with 'friends'."

Claude stood up, walking away from his mother - still not fully aware of her intentions - nor aware that he was now fully naked before her - a raging erection standing before him.

"But mother," he said, "It is unnatural."

"Claude - we are unnatural. We are not human, not any more. We are different creatures, and different rules apply to us."

"What are you saying?"

"I am saying, my son, that I have followed your father's wishes thus far, but I cannot see you suffer any longer."

She stood and approached him. He backed away from her and she followed, backing him into a corner.

"Mother, no."

"Claude, yes. I am here for you, darling. To ease your pain."

He was fully in the corner now, and she simply walked to him - confident, smiling and strong.

"Remember what I said, don't tell your father."

She reached out to him, and he flinched from her, but had nowhere to go. She pulled him strongly into an embrace, letting her robe fall open so their bodies could touch. His body sang out with joy at the contact - even while a diminishing part of his brain screamed in protest.

"NO!" he muttered harshly. "No!" he said, flatly. "Lo," he whispered, defeated. She took his face in her hands, and pulled him down to kiss her.

Her lips were tender beyond belief. Her breasts against his chest were electric. Her legs touching his sang to every one of his senses. In that one kiss, he had more pleasure than he had ever known. She pulled back from the kiss, still cradling his face in her hands.

"Now Claude, can you truly tell me this is wrong?"

"I don't know what to say, Mother." said Claude. "I don't know what to feel. Oh my god."

He bent down and kissed her once again. His entire body ached for her, but he couldn't bring himself to initiate any other sort of contact.

"Oh my sweet boy," she said, taking his hand and placing it on her breast.

It was as though fire were shooting through his hand, not the kind the burned, the kind that soothed. He leaned in and kissed her once more. Dizziness overtook him and his knees buckled from the overwhelming sensations surging through his body and brain.

Frederique laughed, catching him beneath the arms and hugging him to her.

"My poor boy, come over here and we will take care of you."

She led him to the bed, and had him lay down. She let her robe fall and retrieved the oil. Resting her right hand on his chest, she caressed his cheek with her left, smiling down at him.

"We should establish some rules," she said, calmly. "My job here is to take care of you - that is all. You will not find yourself inside me this evening, or any time soon. Perhaps in fifty, a hundred years if we should meet at a party, who knows? For now, I am still your mother. I know that must sound odd for what we are doing - but I have reasons. Are you comfortable with that?"

"Yes - I think, I don't know. I have no idea what I am comfortable with."

"There is so much, so much for you to take in, I know. Come; let us begin your treatment. Think of it as that. I am the nurse, you are the patient."

Her hand slid down, and he gasped as she brushed it over his cock.

"Claude darling, I just want you to know that I know how you feel; the emptiness, the yearning. I was nineteen at the time of my awakening. My mother and I were travelling together and we were waylaid in the Pyrenees. We got stuck at an Inn because of avalanches along the road. I awoke and I was desperate. My mother caressed me and held me, but could do nothing else to soothe my need for an Afflicted male partner. I was so miserable and it took all of my mother's strength to keep me in our room and stop me from attacking every man in that small village. For two days, I grew more desperate and lonely. The lust was growing in me and I was quite near taking a mortal to mate just to fill my needs. Thank god the pass opened two days later. We made our way to my uncle's house and my cousin Jean was there. I think we made love for three solid days. Now then, fruit of my womb; let me have a look at the handiwork your father and I have created."

She scooted down a bit and took his cock in her hand, lifting it closer for examination.

She inspected his tool admiringly, chuckling a bit.

"What? Does it look funny to you?" asked Claude.

"No dear, it is so beautiful," she said. "The funny thing that occurred to me. Do you know how people see a child and say, 'He has your eyes; she has your mouth.'?"

"Yes, but what does that mean, here?"

"I look at this, and I see your cock is somehow a blend of your father's and your uncle's, my brother."

"Did you lay with your brother?"

"Once. A hundred years ago. It was lovely. Again, I want to remind you of the odd idea of relations among the Afflicted. Henri was my brother, but over five hundred years had passed since the time we were children together. We had each gone through many human lifetimes by that point. But back to your wonderful instrument. It is such a nice size, large but not too gros. You are going to please so many women with this. Now, to business."

She took the oil and drizzled it artfully down the length of his shaft. With her hand she slowly coated his entire cock, not grasping it yet, just assuring there was no spot that wasn't shiny and fragrant. Once completed, she lay down next to him; sending thrills through his body as she wrapped herself around him, her breasts pushing firmly against his side.

"Now Claude," she whispered. "I know what your life has been like, and I know the longing you must be feeling. Do not feel you must hold back this time, understand? It will not surprise me, or disappoint me should you erupt very soon."

She grasped his cock and began sliding her hand up and down his shaft. The artistry he had witnessed through the viewer was now being focused directly on him and he was instantly grateful. He didn't care if there was some scientific reason for the joy he was feeling. Fueled by the Affliction or not, he had never experienced such ecstasy. His body sang out to her, every inch of their flesh touching really did make him feel more alive, more vibrant. As for his cock, he was paralyzed from the rapturous sensations she was eliciting.

"You're doing very well, my beautiful boy," she whispered into his ear after a couple of minutes. "You will indeed serve women well. I think it is time you spilled your cum, darling. Come now; show me that I please you."

She quickened her pace, focusing her hand now on the top of his cock, rotating her hand around his tip and sending him into what he would always think of as his first real orgasm.

"Oh mother, oh mother," he groaned and then gasped with clenched teeth.

The cum poured out of him, splashing its way across his belly and over her hand."

"Wonderful. Wonderful, my boy." she murmured, "I am so happy I can do this for you."

She stayed there beside him, her hand on his cock for several moments before rising to retrieve the towel. She mopped him up tenderly, and then crawled past him and sat against the wall.

"Come here," she said, and pulled him to her, laying his head in her lap.

She ran her fingers through his hair and played with his budding chest hair lovingly.

"You need this too, you know." she said. "The sex, of course, but just this, physical intimacy, it helps."

"So, father does not know?"

"No, and he cannot," she said, firmly.

"Did you ask him?"

"I could not," she said. "Not after the Lehri family."

"The Lehris?" said Claude, surprised. "What did they do?"

"You knew Muhammed?" Frederique asked.

"Of course."

"He awakened early, at eighteen," chuckled Frederique. "And they were visiting their distant holdings at the time and there was nobody else. Mrs. Lehri, Sofia, she took things into her own hands. Good for her, I say. When she told us that at a dinner, it took every ounce of self-restraint for your father to stay the rest of the meal. The entire flight back, he was cursing and yelling about abominations and sinners and God knows what else, poor man."

"Yet you say, this sort of thing happens often among the Afflicted?" inquired Claude.

"Yes. It is the Affliction itself that necessitates the need." she said, matter-of-factly. "As I say, your father is still young. I think America will be very good for him. There are many of us there now, and he won't be able to avoid seeing such things more and more often. He'll learn."

Claude felt the desire growing in him once again. Looking up at her beautiful breasts, he couldn't resist and lifted his head to kiss and suck her right nipple.

"Ooh," she said, closing her eyes in pleasure. "So nice, that feeling." Then she began to laugh gently.

"What?" he asked. "What's funny now?"

"I was just thinking, the last time we were in that precise position was over nineteen years ago, and you were much, much smaller."

He laughed, too, but then kissed playfully at her breasts again.

"I think I've missed these," he said, grinning.

"It seems you have. We should be aware of the time. I doubt your father will be waking any time soon, but just to be safe we should finish things off. I have a treat for you."

She climbed off the bed and retrieved the silk belt from her robe.

"This one, it will take a while - you have no choice," she whispered, slyly. He was already erect, but she worked his cock quickly into full hardness. Then, she took the silk belt and tied it into an ornate knot with a loop in it.
"What's that for?" asked Claude.

"Your treat."

She took the loop of the knot and slipped it down over his shaft. Then she slipped his balls through a loop as well and gently pulled on the knot. Claude gasped as it tightened around the base.

"Let me know if it hurts." she said in a low, sultry tone.

Tighter and tighter she drew it, until he started at the tension.

"Good?" she inquired.

"Yes, very."

Something about the tightness of the knot allowed blood to push into his cock... but delayed the escape. He looked down at his rod, standing very tall from the way the knot was holding it. It moved slightly at each heartbeat.

"Prepare yourself for divine agony, my darling." she said.

Taking the oil again, she lubricated her fingers and palms and began working his shaft with both hands. There was nothing leisurely about her pace. She seemed on a mission. Claude was sure he would cum soon, but the orgasm seemed to be lurking beneath the surface.

"The trick is in the pressure," she said, looking him in the eyes without stopping her rapid massage. "It puts pressure below, blocking where your seed originates. If you ever have the chance, use this when you are fucking - it makes you last wonderfully, and keeps you harder than steel."

Faster and faster she worked him, pausing only to put more oil on her hands. Claude actually felt his cock growing hot from the friction, but could have cared less because of the frightening pleasure she was giving him.

"Tell me when you are ready - you will cum first, and then I will release it."

The pressure built within him, and he felt the cum gather up, only to meet a barrier on its way.

"Now," he gasped.

She pulled the end of the knot and released the pressure. Set free, the cum shot skyward. Another, then another, then another explosion erupted. Claude had closed his eyes during his orgasm, but opened them in surprise after his last spurt. He hadn't felt any cum land.

Looking up, he saw his jets of cum frozen in the air; his mother raised one eyebrow, a mischievous look on her face.

"I hadn't thought I would do this," she said, smiling. "But I work up a hunger too, no?"

The suspended jets began to coalesce into one column of cum, which flew directly over Frederique's head. She tipped her head directly back and then let it fall suddenly into her waiting mouth.

"Mmm," she said, grinning. "A nice nightcap, I must say."

Claude was still lying down on his back and she crawled on top of him, her breasts squeezed against his chest, her face inches from his.

"Now tell me, dear heart. How do you feel?"

Aside from the stunning pleasure of her body against his, Claude realized he felt... content? For the first time since his awakening he felt truly and wholly satisfied.

"My god mother, I feel amazing," he said.

"Not empty anymore?"

"No!" he whispered loudly, "I'm good. What's more, I'm normal. I was a shell, a wraith. Now I'm human again."
"I'm so glad," she whispered, leaning down to kiss him once more.

She rolled off of him and stood. She put her gown back on and retrieved her oil.

"Now remember, Claude dear. None of what we talked about; none of what we did can go past this room. Agreed?"

"Absolutely," said Claude. "Who would I tell, anyway?"

"No one, but keep it that way. Good night, dear.

"Good night, mother. And mother?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you," he said as she was closing the door.

"Je vous en prie," she whispered. "It was my pleasure."

She closed the door and left Claude to contemplate what had just happened. Within moments he drifted off into his first true sleep in days.






CHAPTER 3



Claude was sleeping, dreaming of a woman's lovely touch on his body. Through a haze, he could almost make out her face.

"Claude," she said. "Wake up, Claude."

In his dream he pried his eyes open, to see her sitting beside him. Her touch on his shoulder felt so real, so alive he almost didn't want to wake up.

"Claude!" she said, louder... shaking him.

Claude woke up to see it really was his mother sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Good evening, sleepyhead." she said, smiling.

Claude sat up, rubbing his eyes, then remembered.

"Oh my god, was last night... real?"

"Oui. Very real. How do you feel?"

Claude took stock of himself. "Amazing," he said. "Mother, the satisfied feeling didn't go away. I still feel so alive at peace. And I slept! I could sleep another day, I think. How good this feels."

"I am most gratified. Come here."

She leaned over and kissed him gently. The kiss didn't enflame him so much as reassure the symbiote within him that it was still among friends and needn't fear.

"Last night should carry you through a few days," his mother said, gently. "We will find a discreet time to revitalize you when the need arises. Now, get dressed and come outside. It is such a lovely night."

She left and Claude dressed quickly. Climbing out on deck, he was enchanted by the view. A fair breeze was blowing, pushing the ship along at a good clip. The moon was just beginning to peak its head over the horizon and its trail of light across the gentle waves and swells made the entire scene look almost like a painting. The usual small crew was up top, just a first mate at the wheel and the two other trusted officers. As long as the wind held steady and they could stay on course, the family was allowed up top since the minimal crew could run the ship.

"Good evening, Father," he said to Palo who was standing with his mother at the railing.

"Good evening, Son. Good sleep, eh?"

"Unbelievable."

"That's good to hear," said Palo. "I spoke with the captain, he said the currents have been with us and he believes we'll be to New York in less than two weeks.

"That's wonderful," said Claude.

Palo and Frederique went for a stroll down toward the rear of the ship and Claude started for the front, wanting to take in more of the view.

If the evening was a painting, what he saw next transformed it from a journeyman's canvas to a masterpiece. Aimée stood at the railing, looking out on the waves. The wind blew her black hair about her face. Begowned in an elegant dress, she was framed perfectly by the glimmering ocean and the rising moon.

Claude must have watched her for at least five minutes before she became aware of his presence. She turned and saw him. The calm look on her face turned to one of loathing. She did not run from him, but approached him sternly.

"I spoke with mother," she said, "I don't care what she says. You disgust me. I hate the very sight of you."

His reply surprised her. "I understand," he said, "and I don't blame you."

"What?" she asked, stunned. "You don't justify your actions?"

"I cannot. But Aimée, we must find a way to somehow exist on this damned boat for the next fortnight. There is nowhere else to go."

"How about opposite sides and ends of the boat?" she said. "If I am port, you are starboard. If I am fore, you are aft. I want to be as far away from you as possible."

"Fair enough," he said, and walked back toward the rear of the ship.

They began an awkward dance over the next few hours. Like magnets with opposite poles pointed at each other; when Aimée would approach, Claude would move away from her. When Aimée would sense him coming, she would drift elsewhere.

As dawn approached, Claude was mid-ship admiring the moon which was now full and high. He stood near the hatch leading down to the crew quarters. Leaning against the deck, he was surprised when Aimée brushed right past him, going straight to the hatch.

"Too close, Sister. I was here first."

She ignored him, fumbling with the latch the crew hatch.

"How does this work?" she muttered.

"It doesn't matter, you can't go down there. That's where the crew is."

"I know," she said, turning to him. There was a wild look in her eyes. "They're in there. I can smell them. I'm going to take them all. One by one, I'm going to fuck them. If they don't please me, I'll rip out their throats. If they do please, me, I'll keep them around. That first mate, he shows promise, perhaps I'll bite him and infect him. He would make a good mate, no?"

"Aimée, stop kidding around," said Claude.

"This is no joke, Claude. I must have them. I will have them!"

She redoubled her efforts on the latch, scratching at the wood, trying to pull it up.

"Mother!!! Father!!!" shouted Claude, "Come now! Come quick!"

He grabbed her around the waist, pulling her toward the entrance to their quarters.

"No!" she said "I won't go, let me have them. I must have them!!!"

She struggled with him, showing frightening strength. He pulled her around and clasped her to him, doing all he could to hold her at bay.

"No Aimée, listen to me... it is the Affliction. It is telling you to do these things."

"Bullshit! This is me! I need this. Oh Claude, you feel so good. Touch me some more.

She clasped herself around him, burying her head in his neck. Frederique and Palo came dashing down the deck. Frederique seemed to take quicker stock of the situation. Palo was more confused.

Claude shared a knowing glance with his mother, and then looked to the sky.

"The moon," he whispered.

"Merde!" said Frederique, "She is awake."

"Of course she is awake," said Palo. "She is right here."

"No Palo, awake!"

"Mon dieu!" exclaimed Palo. "Get her below."

'"No! I beg you," pleaded Aimée, "Don't put me down there again, it will kill me. I need more. I need the men. Please?!"

"Come, my love," said Frederique. "We will talk more when we get to your cabin."

With a parent on each arm, Aimée couldn't have escaped if she wanted to, not against the combined strength of Palo and Frederique. Claude's heart went out to her, as she whimpered between them.

"No Mama, no Papa... I need things. I know it is wrong, but I must have them. I need men, Mama."

"I know, Cheri but do not despair, it isn't wrong."

"It's not?" she asked.

"Of course not, but let's get you back to your cabin and sort this out."

Claude followed them down, and watched sadly as they led her into her room and then stepped out to lock it.

"Just a few minutes," said Frederique reassuringly. "We just need to talk some things over."

"Don't take long, mother," Aimée pleaded.

"I won't, dear."

"What if she escapes?" asked Claude as Palo locked the door.

"She won't," said Palo. "These are council locks. Nothing gets in or out of them."

"What are we going to..." started Claude.

"You are going to go to your cabin," said Frederique. "We are going to have a discussion."

Claude almost argued, but caught the look from his mother which told him she would broach no contradictions. He shrugged and went into his room. He locked his door and went directly to the painting to view and listen in on his parent's conversation.

The first few minutes weren't all that productive, as Frederique stormed about her cabin cursing in six or seven different languages.

"I told them!" she screamed. "I told the council that we must have deplaceurs to transport us across. I told them an ocean voyage was unacceptable at this time of their lives. But no, they could not free the resources. 'What if they awaken?' I asked. 'The odds are slim' they argued. 'They are both nineteen,' I said. 'No worries,' they replied. Arrogant bastards, now look where we are."

"It isn't that bad," said Palo.

"Not that bad!" she screamed. "This is terrible. Did you see how close she was to the crew? What would we have done then? Dead sailors - maybe the whole crew. How much worse could this be? She must have a man."

"Nonsense," said Palo. "She can wait."

"Wait!?! She cannot wait!" shrieked Frederique.

"Of course she can. She's a woman, it is easier. We lock the door until New York, and sort it out there."

"Wrong answer, Palo. She must have a man, an Afflicted man. The first days of awakening are critical."

"There are no men," said Palo, adamantly.

"Yes, there are." She eyed him intently, holding her hands on her hips and glaring at him.

"Oh no you don't, woman. I have warned you not to go there."

"I have to go there. Give her Claude. Claude needs it too, he is...he is on the verge as well. They will help each other."

"Blasphemy!" he screamed.

"Blasphemy for what god? What god would create such a condition as this and deny the suffering relief?"

"It is unnatural!" Palo blustered.

Claude smiled at his own words echoing from his father's mouth and listened as his mother repeated her own theories.

"No!" shouted Palo.

"Very well," retorted Frederique. "If not Claude, then you. You go and comfort your daughter in the way she needs."

"You are an abomination!"

"Perhaps I am," said Frederique calmly, "but at least I am an abomination who is capable of rational thought and understanding. You. You are an abomination enfant."

"Enfant!?"

"Oui, a baby. Because only a baby would be so incapable of understanding..."

Just then, Frederique trailed off, an angry glimmer in her face.

"Yes," she muttered. "That will convince you, I am sure."

"What? What are you thinking?"

"You don't understand being denied these things. In the nearly fifty years we have been together, since even before our blood ceremony, I have never once denied you. Even when we've been apart, you have had partners."

"That is beside the point," said Palo, turning away from her.

"That is exactly the point," she said, grinning triumphantly. "If you will deny her this. I will deny you the same. You will get to see how it feels."

"Like you could resist," he said, taunting her.

"Oh, try me, Palo. Just try. I know. I made the journey from Europe to Morocco in the dark. Two months in basements and caves. I couldn't even fly for fear of detection. Two months with no Afflicted contact. Two months of drinking animal blood and satisfying myself with mortal men just to get through. It almost killed me, but I learned to survive. You have no chance. Now get out of my room."

"Your room?"

"Yes. My room. You will sleep in the storage room until you see some sense."

"No, I will stay here," he raged. "You take the storage room."

"We can do this two ways, Palo," she said, in a tone that frightened Claude, even through the wall. "You can go quietly, or I can force you."

"You could never force me," laughed Palo.

"Not physically, no. But do you really want to put yourself up against my powers? Are you so daft as to believe you would stand a chance?"

They stared each other down, not blinking. It was Palo who relinquished first.

"Very well, Frederique. But I keep the key to Aimée's room. I am the only one who is showing any restraint in this madness."

"If you say so, now get out."

Palo grabbed a blanket and pillow, and stormed out of the room. Claude heard him thunder down the hallway and slam the door to the store room.

Pounding began in the room next to him.

"Who was that?!" screamed Aimée from her room. "Where is everyone? Come and let me out!"

She pounded on the door of room, louder and louder. Her screams rising to screeches. Claude sat on his bed, covering his ears. He heard more motions in his mother's room, then footsteps. He opened his door to see his mother walking down the hallway, a wooden box in her hand. He stayed, watching, as his mother walked to the store room and tapped sternly on the door. Palo emerged.

"Back so soon?" he said, "I knew you wouldn't last."

"Don't be ridiculous," said Frederique. "I need to do something to help the poor girl. You need to let me in."

"Don't try anything funny," said Palo.

"You can keep the fucking key, Palo. Just let me in."

He did so, grumbling, and glared at Claude after he locked Frederique in as well.

"What are you looking at?" he snapped.

"Nothing," said Claude.

He shut his door and dashed to the woman's painting, pushing the right buttons for Aimée's room.

He listened intently, straining because his mother was whispering. The two sat beside each other on the bed.

"I am trying to get him to see reason, dearest. Once he does, you will suffer no more. First, let me try something."

Frederique leaned in and kissed Aimée tenderly on the lips. After a few seconds, Aimée pulled away.

"Mother...why would you do this?" Aimée asked confusedly.

"No good reason. It is as I thought. You like boys. Not that there was much doubt, but I thought I would check."

"Check for what?" asked Aimée, confused.

"Aimée, listen to me..."

Frederique proceeded to give much the same lecture as the night before. She told Aimée of the Affliction and the needs it had. As her mother finished, the emotions playing across Aimée's face were so similar to his own, Claude had to smile.

"So you see; we are in a very difficult situation. When you first awaken, your hunger is ravenous. You need to be with an Afflicted a partner who is Afflicted.

"Why not ordinary men? I could sleep with some sailors."

"It would only make it worse. The Affliction knows its own and would be very dissatisfied with mortals. You would have to bite them. In fact, you would have no choice."

"But mother... Claude?"

"Or your father."

"Disgusting."

"Mon dieu, I grow tired of this conversation! We are not human, daughter. We do not live by their rules and we do what we must to survive. Leave your father out of this. Think of Claude. Do you find him unattractive?"

"No, I suppose he is handsome enough."

"Don't suppose," said Frederique. "Concentrate - think of him with only your base instincts. Get your mind and the conservative upbringing your father has given you out of the way."

Aimée tried, closing her eyes. She soon smiled.

"Do you see?" asked Frederique, "He could soothe you, no?"

"Oui. Let me go to him. Now."

Claude felt his pulse rushing, his cock hardening at the prospect of holding Aimée in his arms.

"We must wait. We will wear your father down," she said. "For now, I have some things I hope might help. Tell me Aimée, have you ever pleasured yourself?

"A few times," said Aimée, blushing, "though I've never felt the need that often."

"But you know how things work, yes?"

"Of course, mother."

"Good girl. Look in here."

Frederique opened the small wooden chest to reveal the contents therein. She pulled out two cloth bags, a larger one and one smaller one.

"This is very ancient." Frederique pulled a large wooden cylinder out of the first bag. "This was once attached to a statue of Priapus in Crete. Countless women have pleasured themselves with this. It has served me well. Here is some oil to help with it." Removing the next one, she showed Aimée a gorgeous glass dildo, which was amazingly lifelike.

"This was made by the finest glassmaker in London. It is modeled after - well, after a very wonderful man. Last, is this."

She pulled out a small silver disk, no bigger than a pocket watch. "This is a recent invention, just wind it and put it..."

Palo pounded on the door, shouting. "What's taking you so long in there, woman?"

"I'm almost done, brut! What does it matter to you, anyway -- you won't be seeing me."

She continued. "Anyway, wind this one... and touch the right place, you'll be very surprised."

Frederique rose, hugging her daughter.

"Aimée, I know exactly how you feel. I hope this helps, but I must warn you."

"Warn me of what?"

"Warn you that this will feel wonderful but it might do more harm than good when it is done."

"I don't understand," said Aimée.
"Just try it, see if it calms you at all."

Frederique knocked on the door. "Let me out Palo."

He did, Claude didn't follow the rest of their conversation, instead staying intent on watching his sister.

Aimée sat upon the bed and examined the objects her mother had left. Shrugging her shoulders, she stood and removed her dress. Stripping off all of her clothing, she was beautiful in her candid environment, unaware of being watched by Claude. He was captivated by her beauty in the way it contrasted with his mother. If Frederique's body was a fruit, it might be thought of as a ripe peach... luscious and ripened to perfection. Aimée's body would be more like a nearly ready apple, holding the promise of wonderful crisp deliciousness just around the corner.

She sat on the bed and chose the glass implement as her weapon of choice for her first go-round. Breathing a sigh of resignation, she let her hand brush downward. At first she explored everywhere, touching every place on her body. Claude watched with delight as Aimée massaged her clitoris and she moaned softly. She worked herself higher and higher into pleasure and then retrieved the glass tool. She contemplated it and then deliberately moved it down to the glistening opening it was meant for. She pushed it in a little way, and Claude himself gasped at what he knew was the resistance. Aimée left the tip of the glass there, just at the opening, and then began working herself again with her other fingers. She moaned and breathed faster and faster. Then he saw her gather her courage, grasp the base of the glass implement, and plunge the translucent tool in - taking her own maidenhead.

A pained gasp escaped her lips, but she continued her work with her fingers. Leaving the glass cock deep within her, she started rubbing herself harder and harder. When the pleasure returned, she started working the dildo and moaning on the bed, rolling around, surrendering to this brand new pleasure for her body.

He couldn't resist touching himself as he watched this exciting new adventure for his sister, and worked his cock in empathetic pleasure as she approached what he realized was to be her first climax since awakening. Her body stiffened and her eyes opened in surprise as it overtook her.

"Mon dieu!" she shrieked as the pleasure surged through her.

Claude would never forget that moment... nor would he forget the moments that followed. She ended the orgasm with a smile on her face, but Claude watched as that satisfied smile transformed within seconds. First, her visage altered into surprise, passed quickly into anger, and finally outrage.

"This isn't what I need!" she shrieked.

In one second, hours of a master craftsman's work were destroyed as she hurled the dildo against the wall.

"Let me out!" she screamed, she ran to the door and pounded on it with all of her might.

"Father! Palo!!! I need out! I need to hunt. I need a man! You cannot deny me these things!"

Through the painting, Claude adjusted his view to the floor of Aimée's cabin with concern. She was standing in the shards of glass and her feet left bloody tracks where she stood.

Claude went out into the hallway to find his mother and father there as well. His sister's shrieks pierced through the door. She was no longer coherent, but had descended to angry screams and the occasional curse.

Not sure how to reveal what he had seen, Claude contemplated how to proceed.

"I heard breaking glass in there," he said.

"Oh no," said Frederique. "Aimée, are you hurt?"

"Yes! But I don't care! Fuck that. Let me out of here!"

"Aimée, please keep your voice down," pleaded Palo. "The sailors might hear."

"No they won't. You said yourself our cabins were noise proof. I wish they would though. I wish they could hear me. COME HERE SAILORS. COME FUCK ME. I AM READY!!!!"

"Go in and calm her down," Palo ordered Frederique.

"I cannot. I would no longer be safe," she said. "Send Claude, he would do well at the task."

"Absolutely not," said Palo.

"We need to attend to her, at least," said Claude.

Frederique fetched a dustpan and a small broom, as well as a pair of tweezers.
"Aimée, we need you to stand away from the door."

"What if I don't?!"

"Aimée, dear, just do it." pleaded Frederique.

Aimée called from across the room that she had moved and Palo quickly unlocked the door and tossed the items in, locking the door once again.

"Now we leave her alone," said Palo.

"Idiot," grumbled Frederique as the two returned to their separate rooms.

Claude returned to the painting of the woman and gazed once more into Aimée's room. She had an even wilder look in her eyes. She had set about sweeping the room, in the nude, and was muttering under her breath about men, and fucking, and hunger.

Finishing the floor, she sat upon the bed, examining her feet carefully. One thing that was rarely used among the Afflicted was bandages. Claude watched Aimée pull the shards of glass from her feet, and could see each wound healing as each sliver of glass was pulled. Once done with that chore, Aimée picked up the wooden dildo. She scoffed at it and tossed it the side, then did the same with the small mechanism.

Claude was so concerned for her, his darling sister. He longed to go to her and comfort her; not from desire but from caring. He knew too well how she was suffering.

A thought stuck him, and he put his mouth up to the listening hole.

"Aimée," he whispered.

She looked up curiously.

"Aimée," he said a bit louder.

"Claude?" she said, looking around. "Where are you?"

"I'm in my room, but I've found a place where we might talk. Would you like that?"

"Oh yes," she said. "I would like that very much."

"Come to your wall then, try to find where my voice is coming from."

He spoke constantly until she found the place, concealed directly by her mirror, where his voice was strongest.

"Claude, I am so sorry," she whispered into the wall.

"For what, Aimée?"

"For how I treated you yesterday. Was that only yesterday?"

"Yes," he said. "It does seem long ago now."

"If I had only known. Oh Claude, when we were swimming. The things we could have done."

"Let's not speak of that, Aimée."

"Why? Don't you want to anymore?" she asked, querulous.

"Of course I still want to, Aimée. But if we talk of it, we'll only dwell on it," he said, calmly. "Let us talk of other things."

They began to talk of their childhood; stories of tutors, and adventures. Friends and enemies. Claude nurtured his sister through the rest of the evening and was pleased to see the clock read seven A.M., the worst was over. Frederique arrived with their daily dose. She stepped into Claude's room, giving him a tiny vial.

"So small?" he inquired.

"You have been taken care of in other ways," said Frederique, smiling. She kissed him passionately goodbye and then went to Aimée's room. Palo met her there with the key, and she gave him his dose. Aimée gave her no problems as Frederique slid a very large goblet through the door before Palo locked the door again.

The drama of the night before had taken a toll on Aimée, and he smiled when he heard her yawn.

"Are you growing tired, sister?"

"Oh my, I am." she said through another yawn. "It would be so nice if I could sleep."

"Try," he urged her. "Try and rest. It will pass the time if nothing else."

She was soon asleep, and Claude found himself drifting off as well. Frederique's attentions had indeed been medicine for what ailed him. Though there was a faint stirring of longing beginning to grow, he again slept through the entire day.

What he didn't know was it was not an easy day for Palo. Frederique's theory had been right; Palo had not understood. His Affliction, his friend had never gone without. It seemed the symbiote in his body was greatly disconcerted by being denied its usual companionship. Midway through the day, Palo came creeping down the hallway and tapped at Frederique's locked door.

"Mon cher, open up. Let's stop this silliness."

"That is a wonderful idea," whispered Frederique from the other side of the door.

"You'll let me in?"

"Absolutely, just unlock Aimée's door and let Claude go to her. Then, the silliness will be over."

Palo stormed back down the hallway.

Asleep or not, they were all startled into action by Aimée's screams as the sun set. Whether it could see the sky or not, the Affliction knew the sun was gone and woke with renewed hunger.

"Make it stop!!!" shrieked Aimée. "Help me stop it, I beg you. Claude! Papa! Sailors! Someone come to me, I need you!"

Claude went to the hallway. Palo stood before Aimée's door hesitantly. Frederique leaned against the wall, watching him with a superior air. Palo's face was a fascinating study in character. The anguish he felt for his daughter's suffering was clear, yet his wavering determination also played across his features. His very beliefs were being undermined by awareness of the suffering which one could experience with their Affliction. His old beliefs won out, this time, and with a few curt words he brandished the key at Frederique and stormed up to the deck.

This brought on another fit of screaming by Aimée. Claude dashed back into his room and ran to the hole to speak to her.

"Aimée! Aimée! Can you hear me?"

"Yes, Claude," she said, running to speak to him through the wall. "Find a way to let me out. I don't care how. Kill him. Kill father and come get me."

"You know I can't do that, Aimée."

"So you'd rather I die than him. I'm dying, you know? I'm sure of it."

"I know it feels that way, but you'll get through this somehow. Now talk to me again, like yesterday."

"I'll try -- but I wish I could be there with you, talking on the bed like just a few days ago. I wish that so much."

Claude heard an odd sound, almost like that of a blanket being shaken out. It was a curious whumphh, and then he heard Aimée's voice; behind him.

"Claude?"

Claude turned in surprise to see Aimée sitting on his bed.

"Aimée?"

She stood up, drawn to him with unbearable desire. She pulled him into a violent kiss, crushing her lips against his, melting her body into him.

"But how did you get here?" he asked.

"I wished it," she said. "That's all I know. I wished to be here, and I was.

"Wait here," said Claude.

He dashed down the hall to his mother's room and tapped urgently on the door.

"Mama, come quickly."

Without asking questions, she followed him back and stood in shock upon seeing Aimée in his room.

"Did the stubborn ox relent?"

"No," said Claude. "She appeared here. Just, whoosh, and she was there on my bed."

"Oh!" squealed Frederique. "You are a deplaceur! You can jump from one place to another. This is so rare!"

"We should tell father!" said Aimée. "That will show him what to do with his damned key. He can't keep me anywhere in the entire world now."

"No!" said Frederique, adamantly. "He must learn his lesson. You can have your fun, and I'll have mine."

They heard the doors opening down the hall.

"Quick," whispered Frederique. "Back to your room!"

"I don't know how," Aimée whispered back.

"Just picture yourself in your room and wish it with all your might."

Aimée tried, closing her eyes tightly and concentrating. With the same noise, she disappeared with no time to spare as Palo stuck his head into Claude's room.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Happened?" replied Frederique.

"Why did she stop screaming? I came down to check on her, and no screaming. What happened?"

"I don't know," said Frederique.

"Let me out!!" screamed Aimée from behind the door. "Let me out father, I want to fuck! Let me out so I can fuck!"

"There she is," said Frederique. "Must have been just a lull."

Palo grunted and went back topside.

"All right Aimée," said Claude loudly, as they heard the second door close.

Aimée popped back into his room, Frederique pulled her into a hug.

"Aimée, I am so happy for you. To be a deplaceur, it is such a rare and valuable gift. Then she chuckled slyly. "I am happy for you for other reasons, as well."

"Claude," whispered his mother, "Could you give us a few minutes. Wait in the hall."

Claude waited in the hallway as his mother and Aimée spoke to each other. Then Frederique asked him back in and sat the two of them down on the bed together.

"This is my final lesson for the two of you," she said, quite seriously. "Before one has mated, the urge is quite strong to share blood with another. That urge is not as strong when you are with a blood-relation because the Affliction already feels an affinity. Still, in the height of pleasure, the temptation is always strong to bite before you have gone through the blood ritual. You two must not do this. Not yet. The council would be very angry if two such lovely candidates took each other to mate without their permission. Understood?

"Yes, mother," said Claude.

"Oui," replied Aimée.

"I will keep watch as much as I can, but here is the plan. Claude, you also lock your door. You two must be as quiet as you can. Aimée, transport yourself back to your room and pretend you have been awoken if your father knocks. This nonsense will be over soon enough, but for now we must play the game. Now enjoy, my loves. Enjoy."

Claude followed his mother to the door and locked it once she had left. He turned back to face Aimée and they exchanged smiles.

"So..." Claude said, feeling very awkward.

"So..." echoed Aimée.

Claude moved closer to her, leaning in to touch his forehead against hers, their bodies just inches apart.

It was her turn, now to shudder like he had in the water not even three days ago. As if of one mind, they removed their clothing and now stood before each other naked. They stepped into each other to kiss, and both grew dizzy from the contact.

"Claude, can I say something?" Aimée said in a hoarse whisper.

"Yes."

"I know this is our first time, and I know that common sense, and romance all that says we should take our time."

"But?" questioned Claude.

"But I can't wait, let's save the discovery for later. Right now, I need you so badly I feel like I'm going to die if I don't feel you inside of me."

"I understand," whispered Claude.

He knew the longing she was feeling. He felt exactly the same.

Hand-in-hand, they moved to the bed. Aimée lay down upon her back, and pulled him down to her.

"Are you ready?" asked Claude.

"Please Claude, don't talk. Don't hesitate, I can't wait any more."

He pushed himself against her opening, and already the two of them could feel the rapture singing through their bodies.

"Yes," Aimée whispered. "Yes, yes... ahh!"

Aimée cried out as if in pain, but it wasn't pain. It was the overwhelming sensation of their two bodies joining, and of the Affliction crying out at its reunion with another of its kind.

Tears rolled down Aimée's cheeks, but she was also smiling blissfully.

"Merci Claude. Thank you. I was so...so..."

"Empty?"

"Yes!" whispered Aimée, smiling at the revelation. "I was empty and you have filled me. Not only down there, but in here." She took his hand and put it on her breast over her heart to show him.

"You are filling me, too." replied Claude. "How can I say this? Do you know the jigsaw puzzles we used to do as children?"

"Of course?"

"It is like my body and soul were in pieces like a big puzzle. Yet in one motion, you have put them all together. With you here in my arms, everything makes sense. I am whole."

"Hmm," pondered Aimée, smiling. "I know what you mean... but I fear I am not quite put together yet. There are still some missing pieces. Brother, would you mind helping me find where they go?"

"I would be delighted to help," whispered Claude, moving within her once more.

One might have thought that this first time would be full of adventures and different positions, but like Aimée had said, the time for those things was later. They were so captivated by the sensation between them they couldn't have even considered separating for a second to switch positions. There was a curious side-effect. It was as though the Affliction wanted to revel in its own joy and prolong things as much as possible. Claude found he had an endless reserve of energy and stamina. They moved together with untold joy. Aimée had many smaller orgasms, almost teasing climaxes but it was a full half hour of constant motion before Claude felt the surge begin inside of him.

"Oh Aimée," he groaned.

"Yes Claude," she whispered in reply. "Is it now?"
"Yes."

Aimée's own system sensed Claude's impending climax, and it somehow pulled out the barriers it had put in place to hold her back. She let out a hoarse moan, fighting every impulse not to scream in ecstasy as her body shook with the tremors of orgasm. Claude soon followed her into bliss, erupting within her with surge after surge of cum. It was his turn now, to weep from the profound intimacy of their union. They lay there gasping for several minutes before Claude reluctantly pulled out of her. Sated, they found a different but similar elation at the simple act of holding each other... their skin singing at the contact.

"Oh, I almost forgot," said Aimée, sitting up with a start. She closed her eyes with intense concentration for a few moments, then opened them, smiling.

"What was that?" asked Claude.

"One of the things mother showed me. Just making sure there is no child."

"You can do that?"

"Mm hmm," she said as she pulled him back down to the bed, wrapping his arms around her. "I wish I could sleep here," said Aimée, whose eyes were drifting shut from the peaceful glow of finally being complete.

"So do I," replied Claude, whispering his words into her ear, "but..."

A loud rapping on his door interrupted him. "Claude! Aimée! Now!" Frederique's voice called through the door.

"Oh no," protested Aimée. "So soon? I'll be back as soon as I can."

She stood up and with a whoosh she was gone, leaving Claude sad and alone in his bed.

Palo pushed open the inner door to hear Aimée screaming and pounding on her door, playing the part to the hilt.

"Let me out! Let me out!! I will fuck the entire navy if I can."

Palo looked to Frederique desperately. "Couldn't you drug her? Put her to sleep?"

"Tonight, yes for a little while, though the Affliction would resist," replied Frederique. "Would you have me drug her for the rest of the voyage? Possibly kill her with how much it would take to keep her truly unconscious."

"Just get her through the next few days, until the moon wanes," he pleaded.

"It doesn't work like that." She spoke almost like one would to a young student. 'The first is the worst', that is the expression they use among our kind. Just think of how your body is already yearning, Palo. Now multiply that times ten... twenty even. She is in the thralls of base instinct and if we do not help her, she will turn quickly into a feral beast. Until she is satisfied, none of us will have rest. She might sleep during the day, but the nights will only get worse until she finds relief."

"Then we won't rest, none of us. I won't have it," said Palo. "We are not beasts. We are humans."

"No, we're not. We are hungry, desperate creatures when we are not satiated. You must learn that, Palo.

With a huff, he returned to the storeroom.

Claude had quickly donned clothes to watch the goings-on in the hallway. He had noticed a wearier look on his father's face and mentioned it to his mother.

"Does he look different to you?" asked Claude.

"Oh yes, he is suffering already. I'll give him until tomorrow night, maybe."

Frederique moved to Claude, hugging him close and whispering in his ear.
"How was it? Have you ever known anything like that?"

"God, no. I envy you, having that all the time."

"You will soon, darling. Never seeing the sun, this is the part that makes up for it."

Her hands had been running over his chest involuntarily, and Claude became very aware of her body pressing into his.

"Are you all right, Mother?" he asked, smiling.

"Yes," she pulled back from him, chuckling. "It's just my own longing. One day and I'm already hungry."

"Do you need anything, I mean..."

"No, dearest... I will have no need of your services. Your father will return to my bed in plenty of time. But thank you."

She returned to her room and Claude closed his door. Aimée's cries had been dwindling, and a few minutes later she reappeared in his room, running to him for a hungry embrace.

"Aimée!" echoed his father's voice from the hall, "What's wrong!"

"Excuse moi," said Aimée, rolling her eyes in frustration. She stepped back and deplaced again. Her voice came through the wall. "Why did you wake me?! I was almost asleep, you bastard! If you won't let me out, then at least have the decency to leave me alone!"

"I'm sorry!" shouted her father, angrily, returning to the storeroom and slamming the door.

The night had actually drifted by quickly, and there were less than two hours before sunrise. Claude whispered to Aimée through the wall.

"Aimée."

"Yes, Claude."

"I long for you so much, but I want to breathe the air for just a little while. Would you mind?"

"No, sweet one," she whispered to the wall. "Stretch your legs, regain your energy. You're going to need it."

The ocean was magnificent again, the moon setting now, and had just a touch of its roundness taken away. Claude was full of happiness and completeness, with only a small touch of longing because Aimée was not at his side. He reveled in the breeze at his face and simply watched there at the rail. His mother joined him, standing beside him and letting her arm brush against his. It was as though he could feel the Affliction reaching out to say hello to her, and hers was greeting his as well. With his, it was more greeting. He could sense more desire coming from her, but nothing overwhelming.

"Sometimes this is enough," she said softly. "We all go through times, when desire wanes. My first husband and I once went a full week with only touching, nothing sexual. For a mortal, that is nothing, for someone Afflicted it can be a lifetime. To us, that week was wonderful. We never made love, but we touched almost constantly. It happened accidentally. Neither one of us decided to abstain. It just seemed right at the time. It was beautiful. Of course, when we finally did make love, we fucked each other senseless, it was amazing."

"Mother!"

"What, does my language shock you? My boy, you will learn as you become a man that there are some things that only certain words can accurately describe. Many of those have to do with lovemaking."

They strolled casually on the very small deck for the next half hour. Frederique talked for the most part, telling him about her own childhood and her family in France.

"Mother," asked Claude, broaching a subject she never spoke of. "What happened to your first husband?"

Frederique paused, a pained expression on her face. Then she steeled herself and spoke. "There was a war among the Afflicted. We had a horrible man among us. He... he found a way to control people and bend them to his will. My mother and father, my brothers, and my husband Christophe were all lost in a horrible battle which took place in Paris. I assisted in winning that battle, but we had no idea how many of the enemy remained. So, I ran and I hid. That is what I've been doing ever since. Losing Francoise, it nearly killed me. I wanted to die for several days. Do you know what saved me?"

"What?"

"The memory of my family. Let me put it this way. When you spend time among mortals, they study each other closely. They will point to their son, and say 'He looks just like my father did at that age.' I think that is an important thing, to see your family live on through time. Among the Afflicted, we have that need satisfied in another way. Why wish to see your father reflected in your son's face, if your father will still be standing beside you two hundred years later? Yet, my family was gone. I had to honor them somehow, and so I ran. I wound up in Morocco. It was far enough away from the conflict that I knew I could find safety. The Lehris took me in. Sofia was even so kind as to lend me her husband to revive me. Then, I met your father. He was wealthy, handsome, wonderfully intelligent, and the Council approved of my taking him as a mate. Now I have him, and I have you and Aimée. I see my father in your eyes, and my brother in your chin - and elsewhere. Aimée has so much of my mother in her. I think I have honored their memories well, and today I can still see them thanks to my beautiful children."

Claude stood, contemplating his mother's words.

"Listen to me go on," said Frederique, brushing a few tears from her eyes. "The sun is coming; I have blood to draw; it is time we get on with things."

Claude returned to his room, and was greeted almost instantly by Aimée appearing. He closed the door quickly, but didn't have time to chastise her. She was already wrapped around him, kissing his face and neck eagerly, speaking between kisses.

"I missed you so much," she whispered. "All I could think about was you up there in the wind, how handsome you must look in the moonlight. I can even smell the wind in your hair, still. And the ocean! I kept thinking of the ocean and wishing we were swimming naked again. But what is this?"

She had reached down to feel his very large bulge through his breeches.

"Wait, Aimée..." Claude started... but she was not to be denied. She pulled down his breeches and lifted the simple cotton nightgown she was wearing.

"Now!" she whispered urgently.

Jumping upon him and wrapping her arms around his neck, Claude had no choice but to support her by putting his hands beneath her thighs. She lowered herself down onto his cock, purring quietly as he entered her.

"Oh, that's so good," she muttered in his ear. "So wonderful, so magnifique, don't stop -- promise me you'll never stop."

The sounds of knocking came from the hallway.

"Aimée," their father said. "It is time for your drink. I'm coming in."

"I'm afraid the choice isn't mine about stopping," he said.

"Damn," she said. "Be back soon."

She squinted in concentration, and Claude expected to feel her gone from his arms. However, he had a curious sense of nothingness followed by a dizzy feeling; yet Aimée was still clinging to him, he was still buried deep inside her.

Getting their bearings, they realized they both were now in Aimée's cabin.

"Oh my god," whispered Aimée as she jumped off of him. The door was just starting to open. Aimée jumped and slammed it shut.

"Get out of my sight!" she screamed. "I don't even want to see you father. You sicken me!"

"Now you listen to me," shouted Palo through the door. "I'm not going to..."

"Palo, darling." interrupted Frederique, "Do as she says. You are the one making her suffer. Just stand back a bit; I can contain her if needed. Just let me in and lock it behind me."

Claude pulled up his breeches and squeezed behind the door, praying he wouldn't be visible through the seam. Frederique slipped in quickly and shut the door, looking in surprise at Claude.

"Here you are, Aimée." she said, then mouthed "What happened?"

Claude gestured to himself, then Aimée, then his room. Blinking his eyes, he indicated what had happened.

"Take him back." whispered Frederique. "That's it," she said louder. "Drink it all."

Aimée reached to take Claude's hand, and winked herself out of the room. Yet, Claude remained. Aimée reappeared, panicked.

"How are you feeling dear?" asked Frederique.

"I'm fine," said Aimée, "but I still hate father."

"How did you do it before?" asked Frederique, softly.

"I...oh my goodness," whispered Aimée. "Claude, come here."

"What?" asked Claude.

"Lay down," she said softly.

Pushing him quickly to the floor, she pulled his pants down, revealing his still mostly-erect cock. She climbed atop him and, grabbed his shaft, and pulled him inside of her.

Frederique watched on, amused; then spoke loudly "I also have some brandy to help you sleep better, darling.

With a whoosh, Claude and Aimée were now on his bed, at which point she jumped off of him and blinked back into her own room.

Claude pulled his breeches back up and waited casually, listening to the muttered words in Aimée's room. Soon enough, his mother came knocking. His father did not accompany her, as he didn't need to unlock Claude's room.

"I told her to wait at least two hours," whispered Frederique. "I know how much you two want each other, but I beg you to be patient... and quiet for at least a little while. Your father is about to surrender, I can see it in his eyes. Let's not do anything to spoil that."

Frederique left and Claude stripped off his clothes, pacing about his room distractedly, longing for Aimée's presence and sensing her just beyond the wall.

He crossed to the woman's portrait, pushing the button which led to Aimée. If he couldn't hold her, he at least wanted to see her.

He gasped at what he saw. Aimée stood in the middle of the room, preparing herself...for him, he realized. She had piled her hair on her head in gentle tumbles. Around her neck, she wore a choker of green emeralds which complimented her light brown skin perfectly. At the moment, she wore nothing else, but she was trying different things on. At first, she donned bloomers and a white corset, which pushed up her breasts wonderfully. Next, she tried on a blue nightgown which didn't reveal much, but hugged her body in stunning ways. Still not satisfied, she stripped back down to nothing and donned a pair of riding boots, and a simple leather belt around her waist. When he saw her starting to remove the belt, he whispered loudly into the listening hole.

"Keep the boots."

Aimée looked around, then crossed to speak into the wall.

"What did you say?" she inquired.

"I said keep the boots. I liked the corset, but the boots and belt are my favorite."

"How did you..." she started to ask, then winked out and appeared in his room. He turned to her, smiling.

"Now you know my little secret," he said.

"How did you do that? Oh, let me see," she whispered, going up to the portrait.

"Amazing," she said. "How often have you watched me?"

"Not as often as I would have liked," he said, wrapping his arms around her from behind. "Of course, until three days ago I wasn't all that interested in you. Not in that way."

"Do you want me to go back?" she whispered, pressing her ass against his cock. "So you can watch me some more?"

"No, I couldn't bear it," he said, wrapping his arms around her and cupping her breasts. "But mother asked us to wait."

"Her biggest concern was that we be quiet. I can be quiet, I don't know about you."

"I can be far more quiet than you, sister. I promise you that," whispered Claude into her ear.

"We'll see, put it in me while you show me this contraption.

They were both very new at this - but it took them surprisingly little time to find the right angle for him to enter her from behind. As he slid into her, she sighed and slid her arm around behind her head to caress his. The found a fascinating pattern, where they would work from a slow pace to a more rapid rhythm until they knew they would grow too noisy. At that point, they would cease all motion, and spend a few minutes looking into the viewer, exploring different areas round the ship.

"Poor father," said Aimée, pushing the button for the store room. Palo was pacing up and down the room in only a pair of underpants. His erection struggled against the fabric. Several times, they watched him walking to the door, turning away as his hand neared the doorknob.

A couple of sessions later, Aimée was peering through the viewer and smiled.

"But my, that first mate is handsome."

"You think so?" said Claude.

"Very. If you don't please me, I might just surprise him some night by appearing in his cabin like a desert sprit. I'll mount him, only to disappear as the sun approaches."

"Just like the Arabian Nights, eh?"

"Exactly."

"Are you saying I don't please you?" asked Claude, emphasizing his point with a deep thrust which forced a sign from Aimée.

"No" she said, reaching her hands behind her to guide his hips slowly. "I am not saying that. I could never say that."

She turned then, and they were pleased to find the heels on her boots placed her at just the right height for him to enter her standing.

"This is good," said Claude. "No squeaky bed to worry about. No dresser to rest against."

They stood like that for over half an hour, gazing into each other's eyes, daring each other to be quiet, and covering the other's mouth when that grew impossible. Claude finally surrendered and exploded inside of her, fighting a divine battle of self-control as it took every ounce of energy he had to keep from screaming with the joy of it.

"I wish you had climaxed also," said Claude as his last burst finished.

"I'm fine," she said softly, "Time for me, later."

"No, let me try."

He turned her away from him, pushing one hand downward, the other on her breast. His cum proved good lubrication and he used it well, rubbing his finger over her clit and exciting her even more by pinching her nipples.

"Oh Claude," she murmured, starting to climax. "Oh Claude," she said even louder, "Oh Clau...mmph"

He silenced her by moving his hand from her breast to her mouth, clamping it firmly shut as she screamed out enraptured.

"Who is more quiet?" he teased her when she was done.

"You are," she said, turning to kiss him passionately. "This only means I know how to enjoy myself more than you."

They turned now to the ship's painting. Claude stood directly behind her, loving the feel of his entire body against hers as he showed her the tricks of the viewer, including the bell of the bugle for listening. He kissed her neck and shoulders as she explored her way around the ship.

"Oh dear," said Aimée, "I said poor father, I should have said poor mother, too."

"What?" asked Claude. Aimée kept watching, but handed the listener to Claude. Putting it to his ear, he heard his mother's deep and quiet moans.

"My god she's beautiful," said Aimée, watching intently.

"You think so?" said Claude, cautiously.

She turned to him with a stern look.

"You must be joking. Can you honestly tell me you don't think our mother is beautiful?"

"No," confessed Claude. "She is stunning."

"If I end up half as beautiful as her, I will be thrilled," she said, admiringly.

"You're already to the halfway mark," said Claude, kissing her.

"Thank you," she said, turning back to the viewer. "Those seins. I hope I blossom that way, I'd love to have breasts like that. Come here, be a voyeur for a little while."

They switched places and Claude peaked through the viewer. Frederique was indeed putting on a show. Sitting at the edge of the bed, directly facing the mirror, she wore an open gown and was working herself with the wooden dildo. Her moans were low and earthy and her motions with the ancient tool were slow and methodical. Claude knew the look on her face and also knew her mindset. When one suffered like this, it was better to stay on the brink than deal with the wrath of the Affliction when it was disappointed by an orgasm sans partner.

"Just think," whispered Aimée in his ear. "You could have watched Mother and Father... "

She trailed off upon realizing Claude's secret. She turned him to face her. "Mon Dieu! You did watch them, didn't you?!"

"No." he said, blushing.

"You did!"

"Be quiet," he hushed, "and all right, yes, I did. I watched them. Just starting from a few days ago. I only found the viewer about the same time I came awake."

"That must have been so hard, truly, hard." she said, laughing. "Claude, did you ever touch yourself? Did you ever give yourself pleasure watching them?"

"Yes," he said, blushing even more."

"Ooh! Show me!"

"No," he said, adamantly.

"Please," she wheedled.

"No!" he whispered even louder.

"Yes. I order you. If you don't, I'm going to scream at the top of lungs. Father will discover I can deplace; we will ruin mother's plan; he will tie me up; you will be alone for the rest of the voyage. If that happens, you will be masturbating anyway, so you might as well do as I say."

Claude certainly couldn't bring up the argument that he would be able to call on the services of his mother if needed. Besides, Aimée was so adorable he couldn't help but submit to her wishes.

"As you wish," he said. He started to cross to his bed.

"No. Right here," insisted Aimée. "Stand here, give me a show. I want to see all of you."

She sat down on the floor with her knees pulled up to her chest and looked up at him calmly.

"Aimée, come on." he said, "I would never..."

"Do it, or I scream."

Sighing, he reached down and started stroking his cock slowly. Aimée watched with interest at first, but when she detected he was becoming self-conscious, she put her hand to her mouth in a fake yawn.

"Boring. Do it right. Pretend I'm not here. I can tell you're holding back."

"You are a harsh taskmistress."

"Absolutely, now get to work."

Claude began to work his cock faster, more urgently.

Switching positions, Aimée moved to her knees. She wrapped her arm around his leg and kneeled there, her face inches away from his cock.

"That's better. I know you mean it now."

Feeling her touch also helped. He had been using shorter strokes, but he switched to longer motions. He breathed deeply, the pleasure overtaking him. Aimée leaned her head against his hip, her hand sliding up to caress his ass.

"Are you close, Claude?"

"Getting there."

"I can't wait to watch this. I've never seen it, the spray."

Just then, they heard a knock at their mother's door. Claude stopped and the two of them rushed to the viewer. Frederique was standing at her door, and opened it for Palo--who had arrived, hat-in-hand, so to speak. He looked gaunt and weak. Just the two days had taken a considerable toll on him. His Affliction was feeling lonely, desperate. It was clear in his face.

"Could this be it?" asked Aimée.

"I think so."

"Let's listen," she whispered.

"No, I think this should be between them." Claude said, seriously. It was odd, but even though he had watched his parents' sexual escapades, he felt uncomfortable eavesdropping on what was sure to be a very personal conversation. "Get back to your room; get changed; and keep your fingers crossed. As for your legs, don't cross them, keep them open, I hope to be there soon."

They kissed once more and Aimée disappeared. Claude grabbed a large nightshirt out of his drawer and pulled it over his head, doing his best to will his erection down.

Sooner than he expected, perhaps a quarter of an hour later, his mother knocked on his door. She stood in the doorway, radiant as ever. Palo stood behind her, sullen, but not too angry.

"Claude, would you follow us please?"

Claude nodded, and they moved to the next door. Palo unlocked Aimée's door and pushed it open. Aimée was sitting on her bed in the blue nightgown. She was brushing her hair innocently and the lovely vision stole Claude's heart away.

"Aimée, come here please," said Frederique. She took Claude by the hand, and took Aimée's in her other hand, joining them together. "Key." she said, gesturing to Palo who handed it to her, which she in turn handed to Aimée. "Your father and I had a good talk, and he has something to say."
Palo hesitated, struggling with the words which were still slow in coming to him. "These past couple of days, I was given a glimpse of you must have felt. I would like to apologize for the torture you must have been suffering. Even though it is unnatur..."

"Eh hem." Frederique gave him a disapproving glance.

"Even though these ideas are things I am still getting used to, I am prepared to open my mind to the fact that the Affliction creates different circumstances, and different rules than what most mortals must live by."

"Therefore?" urged Frederique.

"Therefore, I give you two my blessings for the remainder of the voyage, at which point..."

"Eh hem."

"At which point, we will...reevaluate the situation. I wish you much joy, and a good day. Come now, Frederique."

Their parents departed down the hall. Sighing, Aimée closed the door, and locked it from the inside this time. Throwing down the key, she jumped into Claude's arms and kissed him.

"Do you know what this means?"

"It means we can make love?" said Claude.

"No, silly. We were already doing that. It means; we can be loud!"

* * * *

They were loud. They were also quiet, and tender, and rough, and... and countless other adjectives. The sex was nearly endless. Fed by the approval of the Affliction, it gave them boundless energy and renewal.

The next few days were ones of blissful discovery between the two of them. They rarely left their rooms, and when they did they were still inseparable. Around their father, they avoided displaying too much affection. With Frederique, they established a surprisingly frank relationship in very short order. It started the very next day when they forgot to lock Aimée's door. Their mother didn't bother knocking and entered with their daily dose. Aimée was currently atop Claude, lifting herself as high as possible before plunging back down on him.

"Don't stop on my account," Frederique said warmly. "Well, stop for a moment so you don't spill the blood... but please don't stop."

Aimée took the glass and drank it, then took Claude's and tipped it carefully into his mouth.

"Good day, my children," she said, kissing Aimée on each cheek, then kissing two fingers and placing them to Claude's lips.

It was the next day, in Claude's room during a nap between lovemaking, when Aimée woke him up.

"Claude," she said, shaking him. "Claude, wake up."

"What is it?"

"Claude, you awoke before me. By two or three days, yes?"

"True," he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"How did you stay so calm? The first day, I know it was difficult. I saw the look in your eyes when we were swimming. I know that look now. But when you spoke to me through the wall, and when I came into your room. You were calm; content. How did you become so content?"

"Uh...simple. I pleasured myself. I masturbated."

"Don't lie to me Claude. I can tell you are lying, and I also know that masturbating couldn't have truly satisfied you. I tried it myself, and..."

The pieces were falling to place in her head. "I didn't do it. Veronica could not have helped you, she is not Afflicted... MOTHER!" She shrieked in surprise, but not disgust. "Did she help you? Oh my god, Claude?"

Claude nodded, red-faced.

Aimée contemplated the situation and the emotions played over her face. "Well then, tell me."

Red-faced. Claude described the interlude with Frederique. He tried to gloss over the details, but Aimée would have none of it. She insisted Claude give a detailed description of every moment he had spent with their mother.

"So she brought you pleasure?" asked Aimée.

"Yes, much pleasure."

"But only with her hands?"

"Oui. We never took each other... not in that way. Nor did she take me in her mouth -- though based on watching her with father, she is quite amazing at that skill."

"I have so much to learn,' said Aimée. "With the mouth, I have to try it. I want to bring you that sort of pleasure."

She pulled him up out of bed and sat him in the lone chair in the room. Kneeling before him, she put her mouth around his cock and brought him to firmness quickly. Claude couldn't deny it was pleasurable, but it was nothing close to the paralyzing pleasure Frederique had given him with her hands, or the kind she seemed to bring their father with her mouth.

Almost as if on cue, their mother entered and began gathering up clothes. "I'm taking things to the ship's laundry, I'm sure you are in dire need of fresh bed sheets."

She circled around the room, picked up bits of clothing and then stripped the sheets from the bed. She paid very little mind to them... or so it seemed.

"You need to use your hands, Aimée" she said, casually.

"What?" asked Aimée, pulling off of Claude; gasping for breath.

"Use your hands. You'll never please him enough by using just your mouth. Go on, try again, and use your hands this time. Use the fluid from your mouth as lubrication."

Aimée tried again as Frederique looked on.

"Good, good. But twist sometimes too. No, grasp and twist. A little more..."

"Fine, fine, fine!" said Aimée, standing up. "I'm not doing it right, I understand... you show me."

"What, I couldn't!"

"Yes you could, and you have."

Frederique looked to Claude, alarmed.

"Before you go blaming Claude, I figured it out for myself," said Aimée. "But now, the mouth - please do illustrate, Mademoiselle Professor."

Frederique contemplated the situation briefly, then shrugged. She put down the laundry basket; pushed the door shut; and locked it.

"Your father is drinking with the captain, but we should still be quick. Not a word of this to him, either of you."

They nodded.

She was wearing a wide skirt and a loose top. "First, the appropriate outfit for the occasion. Unless the situation dictates otherwise, try to never have a top on when you do this. You'll see why soon." She reached down and removed her top, eliciting a look of mixed admiration and envy from Aimée.

"Let us begin."

She knelt down and began a master clinic on the art of fellatio, imparting nearly six centuries of knowledge to Aimée, by way of Claude.

The use of the lips, of the tongue, of the teeth - she touched on each subject in her lesson. She showed Aimée at least fifty tricks with the hands; grasping the balls; twisting both hands around the shaft; rubbing the fingers across the top; pressing beneath. Aimée took mental notes of everything. For Claude, it wasn't necessarily the most pleasurable experience, as his mother kept stopping to explain things, but if one was to be teased and tormented, there were certainly worse ways

"Now this is something few women can do, and I certainly expect it will take some time to perfect." Frederique performed the deep action Claude had seen her do with their father. She sent him skyward when she swallowed, her throat contracting around his shaft.

Aimée sat beside him on the arm of the chair, kissing him. "Is that good?"

"So good," he gasped, "You have no idea."

"Then I'll learn it, as soon as I can."

"Now just watch for a little while, we're making poor Claude suffer so."

Frederique focused her full attention then on Claude, taking him deep into her throat while Aimée cradled his head against her chest, having a sort of empathetic joy at watching him.

Pulling up and gathering her breath, Frederique looked up to her daughter. Aimée, have you yet to taste Claude's seed?"

"No, not yet."

"Your lover here is very close, it is time you did. I'll tell you two a secret, as much as I love what I just did, this is my favorite thing of all when it comes to oral pleasures.

Frederique leaned up a little and pushed her creamy breasts against Claude's milk-chocolate colored cock, nestling it in between. Working her body up and down, she sensuously slid Claude's cock between her breasts.

"I could never do that, mother," protested Aimée, "I'm not big enough to wrap around him like that."

"It doesn't matter, Aimée, your breasts are more than large enough to nestle him there. I also like doing this." Making longer strokes, Frederique began letting Claude's cock emerge from the top of her breasts. Dipping her head down, she would take his tip into her mouth every time it emerged.

"Now Aimée, you take him in your mouth when it appears" urged Frederique.

The play in colors was a thing of beauty. Frederique's ivory breasts, Aimée's light brown skin, and Claude's darker member merged together in sexual play of hues. If Claude hadn't been near climax, the sight of his cock between Frederique's amazing breasts and his gorgeous sister taking it into her mouth at the top of each stroke surely was bound to push him overboard. Frederique detected his change in breath and encouraged her daughter.

"He's nearly there, Aimée. If you can, take it in and swallow it."

Aimée was certainly game, and when she felt the liquid enter her mouth she sucked fervently and swallowed nearly every drop, missing only the last burst because she thought he was done. The last spurt drizzled lazily onto her chin.

Frederique stood back, smiling, while Aimée looked down greedily at Claude's cock.

"Look at you, my dear friend," she laughed, speaking directly to his penis, "Still hard for me, thank you so much."

"No," protested Claude, "Aimée, I couldn't right now."

"I don't want motion, dear one. I just want to feel you subside while you are in me."

She quickly faced away from him, sliding herself down on his slippery cock, facing her mother with a bemused grin on her face.

"Thank you for the lesson mother," she said, "And I'm sure Claude and any of my future mates thank you as well."

"What did you think of the taste?"

"Different." Aimée replied, honestly. "By itself, I don't know if I'd recommend it... but when it came out of him, knowing what he was feeling, it was like I was tasting his joy."

"I like that analogy," said Frederique. "You'll get used to the flavor, I promise. You'll grow to love it very quickly. Speaking of..."

She bent down and took Aimée's chin in her fingers, scooping up the drops that were still there, then licking them from her finger.

"Yes," she said, savoring the salty taste. "I promise you'll learn to love it quickly."

With that, their mother kissed each of them on the forehead and took her leave.






CHAPTER 4



Claude and Aimée were running about the ship. It was a game of tag and Aimée was 'it'. They needed the exercise and their father had deemed them done with swordplay for the day. Claude went rushing up the ladder to the foredeck when suddenly; it felt as though someone had grabbed him by the shirt and heaved him bodily through the air. He missed the top step by a good three feet and fell crashing to the deck.

Aimée leapt upon him. "Tag!" she shouted, then started to run away. The look upon Claude's face made her pause.

"Claude," what's wrong?"

"The ladder...I didn't trip, I flew."

"Pardon?"

"It was like I'd jumped, but I didn't."

"Nonsense. Stop making excuses. Tag!"

She kissed him this time on the cheek and went racing away. She scurried down the opposite ladder and Claude went dashing after her. As he descended, it happened again. This time he went soaring away from the ladder and flew directly into her, sending them both sprawling to the hard planks.

"Goodness Claude," said Aimée, the breath knocked out of her. "It's only a game of tag, and not that I don't want you on top of me, but father is right there."

"Claude!" called their mother. "What just happened?"

She crossed to them from where she'd been watching the sea.

"I don't know mother," he stammered. "I fell. Twice. It wasn't a normal fall, though."

"No, I saw," said Frederique. "Palo, come here!"

Palo came from the front of the ship.

"Palo, watch your boy."

"What for?"

"You'll see. Claude, that boom there; the one just out of reach. Jump up and touch it."

Claude jumped, touching the boom easily."

"Now look to that hook on the mast. Try and touch that."

"But it's too high. That's a good fifteen feet off the ground.

"Never mind, just try."

Claude gathered his strength, crouched, and jumped. To his surprised he sailed remarkably high and quite nearly touched his goal. It felt quite remarkable to leap so high, until he realized he had to get down. Panicking, he twisted in the air and came down on his side with a frightening thump.

"How wonderful," said Palo. "Our son will be a flyer."

"Yes, my dear," said Frederique.

"Let me try, now!" shouted Claude. "I will fly to the clouds and back."

"Not so fast," said Palo. "Yes, you must start learning, but it will take time."

"Should we go up to the crow's nest where there's more room?"

"No, we'll begin your instruction this evening," said Palo.

"Your father will be instructing you," said Frederique.

"Father? But mother is..." he trailed off, not wanting to finish.

"She is the better flier?" laughed Palo, finishing Claude's thought.

"Yes, father."

"It's true, she is. They say your mother could fly around the moon and still be home before sunrise, but that doesn't make her the best teacher."

Frederique agreed. "I'm not. I get too impatient. I have always been a natural flier, and I have difficulty explaining things. Your father will do a far better job. Come Aimée, let's leave them too it. Flying your first time is difficult enough without an audience.

As they walked to rear of the ship, Aimée looked sullen

"I wish I could fly."

"Oh my dear, don't despair. You may, someday. Other talents sometimes appear at later times -- especially when you undergo the blood ceremony. Often you will acquire at least a portion of your partner's abilities. No need for sadness, though. You are the winner when it comes to first talents. A deplaceur, there are usually no more than fifty among all of the Afflicted.

"Why is it so special?"

"Think of it darling, the ability to go anywhere in a wink. If you had known what a location looked like in America, you could have skipped this voyage entirely. In one blink, you could have put yourself in the New York enclave."

"Then why didn't the council call on their deplaceurs to get us there?"

"There are five thousand afflicted and perhaps half a hundred who can deplace. Deplaceurs have lives too and are only called upon when absolutely needed.

"But mother, how does one move another person? I mean, when I moved Claude he was intimately connected to me, you know?"

"Yes, yes. Not terribly practical is it darling? Let me think, I've only done it twice, very long ago. Ah yes, I forgot. The person simply needs to be inside of the deplaceur somehow. She took Aimée's hand and wrapped it around one of her fingers. "Now, take us to your room."

Aimée winked out, taking Frederique with her. A few moments later, they reappeared in the same spot.

"You see, easy?" said Frederique.

"But this concerns me. Couldn't we wind up in a wall or something?"

"I've been told no. A friend once explained that one simply couldn't be where something else was. What else can I remember? Oh yes, sometimes one might find themselves appearing at a great height. If you are not with a flier, this of course would be bad. If this happens, one of two things should be done. First, look to the ground and see yourself there. Second, simply will yourself back to where you were before. But you have exhausted my knowledge, darling. You will receive instruction in New York, I am sure. Now, our only challenge is how to break this news to your father without letting on you knew how before. He has begrudgingly accepted you and Claude -- I would hate to anger him by revealing you were sneaking around before. Now, let us spy on your brother. This is always such fun."

They crept to a good vantage point behind a railing.

Palo stood before Claude. "Son, flying is three simple things... but that doesn't make it easy. Lift, Collapse, and Push. The lift part is the simplest. Simply reach into your mind and find the place which allows you to lift. Many people use an image, like a hand lifting an object, or a winch. What the image is doesn't matter as long as it works for you."

Claude struggled to find the right image, then remembered the feeling of a wave he'd had swimming with at the beach a couple of years before. The waves had been large swells that lifted him high . Recalling that feeling, he willed himself to rise. With a startling jolt, he flew off the deck and his head pounded into a mast above him. He pinned himself there, and then let the image go, coming crashing down to the floor.

Aimée put her hand to her mouth in concerned surprise. When she saw Claude climbing off the floor, rubbing his head... she struggled to suppress a giggle,

"This is harder than it looks," said Claude, "I'll try again."

Claude tried modifying his image to more of a fountain, and that helped. Though he didn't have the best of starts, he soon was able to float steadily in the middle of the deck."

"Good," encouraged Palo. "That's very good. Now for the other two parts. Collapse and push, they go together.

"Push, I understand," said Claude. "I levitate, and then I push myself from behind and move forward. Here, let me try."

He did, floating into the air; he envisioned a gentle hand pushing him from behind and went sliding forward in the air.

"Very good," said Palo. "But that won't get you going very fast. The air will stop you."

"No it won't, it's only air. Air is nothing."

"Oh, you think so?" asked his father. "How you think birds fly? Do they push their wings against nothing? The air will be your greatest enemy if you try to push your way through it, or it will be your best ally if you use it to your advantage. Here, hold out your hand."

Claude did, and Palo made a quick gesture with his fingers. Claude felt his hand move downward involuntarily.

"What did I just do?" asked Palo.

"You pushed my hand down."

"Wrong, I collapsed the air below your hand. Once I did that, the air above actually exerted pressure from the top. Lift yourself now, move to horizontal, and focus on collapsing the air in front of you.

Claude's father was standing directly in front of him.

"Now," said his father patiently. See the air in front of you, at the same time push from behind, gently."

Claude did as he was told, and suddenly he could see the air shimming before him, a million particles vibrating. He pushed them aside and felt himself drawn in that direction, then he gave a shove with his mind from behind... it was too much. He slid forward with a huge surge and pounded into his father, sending both of them sprawling into a bulkhead.

Aimée couldn't contain herself this time, and burst out laughing uncontrollably. Frederique tried to stop her, but soon fell to laughing herself.

"I thought you were going to give us some privacy," said Claude, though he soon was laughing as well. "Don't worry about it. Stay. Watch."

More laughter followed at his mishaps, but Claude kept working until he could move about the deck with a certain level of proficiency.

"How do you fly with others?" Claude asked. "When you take us for flights, how does that happen? We don't ride you. You simply hold our hands."

"All that is really needed is a touch," said Frederique. "And...I can't describe it very well. Once you touch, they become part of your sphere."

"Can I try with Aimée?"

"If you are careful," Palo cautioned. "Just try lifting at first."

Aimée climbed down took Claude's hand. Standing side by side, Claude imagined the fountain beneath both of them and lifted them easily off the ground. Seeing the air more clearly, he moved them in a gentle circle.
"It's easier with her," said Claude as they touched back down again.

"How do you mean?" asked Palo.

"It just is. With her, I feel stronger, things made more sense. Perhaps it was because I had to take care of her, too. It was just easier."

Their hands still touched, and Aimée shot him a glance which their father couldn't see. The implications of this flight thing had obviously dawned on her as they'd spun in the air. With her hand out of her father's vision, she lifted her hand, palm up slowly toward her mother and raised her eyebrows in question.

Frederique nodded knowingly then took their father by the arm.

"I must say, that was a very good first night's lesson and Claude should be proud of his work. I'm sure he's exhausted though, and needs his rest.

"No, I could go on for..."

"You really DO look tired, brother," said Aimée. "You wouldn't want to overextend yourself. Let's get you to bed."

"Oh. Yes." said Claude, catching on and yawning. "It takes so much energy."

They were excused and went back to Aimée's room. The fact was, it hadn't taken too much energy. While the learning curve was steep, the effort of it had taken very little out of Claude. He felt as if he could fly forever and yearned for the skies instead of the tiny cabins.

"Strip," said Aimée.

He had no choice and followed her orders as she did the same.

"Lie down, in the air. Right here."

She directed him to the center of the room and Claude levitated with his body parallel to the floor, about two feet up. She measured him against her legs.

"Two inches down, please."

He lowered himself down.

"Perfect." She lifted her leg across him and grabbed his cock to guide it in as she moved downward. He had a surprise for her and pushed upward to finish impaling her the rest of the way.

"Ooh!" she said, laughing. "This has definite possibilities."

Combining Claude's newly gained talent with their other pursuits provided hours and hours of new enjoyment. Though they loved their newfound pleasures in the bedroom, their hours on the deck were still a welcome break from the stifling cabins.

Their sword instruction continued, but it became a new adventure for Claude because his parents began to tutor him in the art of airborne fighting. Claude quickly discovered that working in three dimensions was amazingly more difficult. It was though he was learning fencing from square one.

The next few days were grueling as he was drilled in the new techniques. His flying had come along incredibly easily. It seemed he had inherited his mother's natural ability. He would never forget the moment when the idea of fighting and flying suddenly clicked into place in his mind. Hanging in midair blocking blows from his father, all of the motion suddenly seemed to slow down. Palo's strikes had always been a blur to him, and he could only block and parry based on instinct and the discipline his father had drilled into him from a young age. Yet, in one moment, his father's sword was easy to see and react to. With his change in perception he started to go on the attack. It was now his father who was moving backward in the air.

Faster and faster their blades flashed. Watching from below, Aimée sensed it first. She somehow felt it before she heard it. The 'click' Claude had felt resounded within her, and she felt a strange, shared, exultation.

Frederique heard the noise and looked up in surprise. She smiled at the sound and said a silent "Yes."

"What has happened?" asked Aimée.

"He is awake now. Truly awake."

They watched Claude and Palo circle around the crow's nest. Even their bodies were a blur as they retreated and advanced. Aimée and Frederique gasped with excitement, and cheered at times at the amazing swordplay.

"Mon dieu, this is amazing!" exclaimed Aimée. "Could you beat Claude, mother?"

"Oui!" said Frederique. "Today I could. In a few years, we'll see. He has amazing potential."

Yet as amazing as Claude had suddenly become, Palo was not to be underestimated. He also had the advantage of the Affliction and much more experience than Claude. It seemed he had the upper hand as their blades flashed even faster when suddenly, inexplicably, the noise stopped and Palo's curved sword came hurtling downward, sticking into the deck of the ship.

Claude looked to his father fearfully. Palo was a terribly competitive individual and Claude feared his wrath. They hung in midair, facing each other.

"Yes!" said Palo, screaming with joy and pulling Claude into a fierce hug, midair.

"You're not angry?" asked Claude, looking to him bemused.

"Angry? The last person to disarm me, other than your mother, was more than fifty years ago. Today it is my own son who does such a thing! By god I'm proud of you boy. But don't get cocky, Claude. I know how you did it, and I'll take care to not give you such an opening again."

They descended to the deck to the applause of Frederique and Aimée. Palo was beaming with pride and Claude was blushing from his accomplishment.

"I'm so proud of you, Claude." said Frederique, hugging him.

Claude turned to Aimée and kissed her passionately. The mood was so animated not even Palo seemed to notice.

Frederique was looking to the sword in the deck thoughtfully. She took Aimée aside and whispered something quickly. Then she turned to Claude.

"Well now Claude, you've disarmed your father. Let us see how well you manage against me."

They saluted, and then rose into the air.

Claude had sparred a bit with Frederique before, but this was the first all-out fight they were going to have. On the first exchange, Claude saw the difference in his mother's style. Where his father tended to fight horizontally, replacing the earthbound lunge with a quick flight forward, his mother had no limits on the direction she moved. A master flier, her swordplay meshed with her flying perfectly. Up, down, diagonal; the entire sky was her place for fighting. On one particularly heated exchange, she even spun all the way upside down and forced Claude to instantly adjust his tactics to accommodate thrusts and parries coming from an inverted sword arm.

He felt he was acquitting himself well when his mother took a glance beneath them and suddenly moved with such rapid grace he realized she had been merely toying with him. A quick flick of her wrist, an extra push, and his sword was hurtling toward the deck directly toward Aimée!

"Below!" screamed Claude.

In an instant, Aimée winked out of existence -- Claude's sword clanging to the deck where she'd been.

"What happened?" called Palo, surprised. "Where did she go?"

"I'm here!" said Aimée from the foredeck.

"How did you get there?"

"Play along," whispered Frederique.

Claude gazed in amazement at his mother. Not only had she planned this, she had even timed their swordfight and disarming him for the right moment.

They descended to the deck, and faked the discovery of Aimée's rare ability for Palo's benefit. Aimée went through the motions of learning how to deplace.

The next evening, Aimée had been winking in and out everywhere when she made a sudden and profound realization. She walked over to the sword bin and pulled out her favorite blade, as well as a small dagger.

"Attention, everyone. I would like to make an announcement."

"Yes, what is it dear?" asked Frederique."

"I would like to announce that I am officially, the finest swordfighter in our family!"

"Oh, you think so, do you?" said Claude.

"I know so. I will start with you and then work my way up. Come, brother," she said. "Try and best me."

"I think I can." said Claude, smiling.

"If you say so, but do not go easy."

First, they sparred cautiously, looking for openings, but in a flash they engaged in a cacophony of blows. Frederique smiled to Palo with pride, as their two children seemed to be perfectly matched in sword abilities. As a young man, Claude was naturally stronger, but Aimée's superior (and now, also awakened) reflexes countered his strength and gave a perfect balance to them.

The one advantage Claude had was flight, and he found himself subconsciously lifting away and above Aimée when she launched a particularly fierce attack.

With his airborne ability, Claude felt he had the advantage and began circling Aimée, wearing her down then retreating away. Yet, still she seemed to be grinning with unfounded confidence. Claude saw an opening, and lunged with the intent of piercing her shoulder to disarm her. Suddenly he was off balance because his target was no longer there.

"Hello!" he heard Aimée's voice say. He turned to see her standing on the quarterdeck.

"How did you get there?"

"How do you think? You can fly, no? That is your power, I am using mine."

With that, she disappeared and the next thing Claude felt was her body against his back and her sword across his neck.

"Hello," she said into his ear. "I would actually be saying 'goodbye' if you were an enemy."

She dropped the sword to the deck and then disappeared again. Claude looked to see her at her father's throat, her dagger now drawn. Whoosh and she was now behind her mother, hands clasped around Frederique's neck.

"God in heaven!" exclaimed Palo. "I had never considered the implications."

"Deplaceurs are fearsome fighters," said Frederique. "You are very lucky, but I will warn you to be cautious, my girl. Dead is dead, and even power such as this cannot protect you from everything."

"I understand, mother," said Aimée. "So, what will you teach me now?

"Honestly, we can teach you nothing."

"Oh come mother, there must be something."

"No, not in fighting by yourself," insisted Frederique. "Just as flying changes the nature of swordplay, your gift changes everything. To take true advantage of it you will need to wait for New York and proper instruction."

"This week has been a great success," continued Palo. "Claude has disarmed his own father, and Aimée has discovered the most amazing gift and a frightening skill when it comes to fighting. Instruction is through. We've two hours before sunrise, enjoy your time."

* * * **

The following evening, they emerged to a lovely sky. The captain met them on the deck with a polite smile.

"My dear guests, I'm happy to report that we are nearing the end of our voyage. I do wish to tell you we are entering more busy seas and would request you keep your activities to the more normal variety."

"Of course, Captain." said Frederique.

"I also must tell you, there have been greater pirate activities reported in this quadrant. I have stationed Francois in the crow's nest in order to keep a lookout."

"Understood," said Palo.

"Now I will take the helm, and wish you a pleasant evening."

The captain retreated to the enclosed cabin.

"Damn!" muttered Claude. "I was hoping to fly this evening."

"As was I," said Aimée, leaning against him.

The two of them gazed up at the stars, admiring the moon shining through the low-flying clouds.

"I have an idea," Aimée said.

"What?"

Aimée fixed her eyes on the sky, concentrating. Then she turned to Frederique, whispering softly.

"Mother, since Claude can't fly, we've decided spend the night below."

Frederique gave them a conspiratorial grin. "As you wish, children."

Aimée took one last glance at the sky and took Claude's hand, leading him below.

"But Aimée, even without flying, I still want the fresh air." he protested.

"So do, I silly."

"But...'

"Just be quiet and come with me."

Aimée led him into her room and then locked the door behind her."

"There," she said, "Now they'll think we're in here. Take off your clothes."

"Aimée..."

"Stop arguing with me, you silly boy, and do as you are told."

Her clothes were already off, and Claude, passion growing, could find no logic to argue against her. She surveyed him appreciatively.

"There, that's better. Now we can have some fun."

She pulled him close, kissing him deeply, letting her tongue dart into his mouth. With that, Claude discovered her plan. Suddenly, they were plummeting through the air, high above a cloud, Aimée grasping herself firmly to Claude's chest.

"What did you do?" screamed Claude.

"Fly and I'll tell you!"

Claude gathered his wits and stopped their fall.

"Where are we?"

"I memorized the shaped of this cloud, and took us here. The ship is far, far below. Take us to where we can see just to make sure"

Claude flew them to the edge and felt more at ease. The Siren was there. It looked like a child's toy from so high above and left a telltale trail across the water.

'Now that you can really fly," Aimée said. "No one can see you here. Of course, you have to take me with you."

"No complaints there," said Claude. "Come; let's see what life is like in a cloud.

Taking her only by the hand, he flew them directly through the cloud. Due to their tropical latitude, it wasn't as cold as they expected, feeling a bit like the Massri's spa back home, though a bit cooler. They found themselves quickly drenched. Their skin was glistening in the dim, moonlit luminescence of the cloud.

"You know, water makes a good lubricant," said Aimée, smiling.

"Does it now?"

"Oui, on the skin. It makes things slick. I like things slick. Come here."

Claude willingly complied. They pulled into a tight embrace, reveling in the way their bodies slid together. Claude's firmness pushed tantalizingly against Aimée's leg and he found himself involuntarily pushing his way inside of her.

"Wait," she whispered. "I want to do something first."

She slid her way down his body, always keeping contact with him so she could keep flying. The feel of her breasts sliding down his chest made him even more stiff. She took her time arriving at her destination. Contrary to what Aimée said about her envy of Frederique's endowments, her lovely pert breasts were more than up to the job at hand. Pushing her chest into his raging erection, she began to languorously work herself up and down his shaft. Freed of the confines of gravity, she moved in long sensuous strokes. The motion of her nipples drifting across his pelvis brought its own share of pleasure to her. Responding to his moans, Aimée began working herself more and more quickly across his cock.

"Wait," muttered Claude, trying to stop her as he grew close.

"No," insisted Aimée, continuing her long sliding motions. Claude gasped and she felt the first throb of orgasm. Loving the feel of his hardness against her chest, she chose to keep him there. Grasping him even more tightly, she stayed motionless as burst after burst of warmness erupted onto her chest. As his shuddering subsided, she slid back up his chest, mixing his seed with the bath of water droplets they were floating in.

The Affliction had granted Claude great powers of recovery. Not that 20-year old males generally had problems in this area, but ever since Claude had awakened the time from ejaculation to the next erection was only a minute, or less. Taking advantage of this, Aimée slid gently down onto him, loving the feel as he eased into her waiting silky chamber. She rested her head on his chest as he regained his breath and then took his head in her hands to kiss him tenderly.

"My god we're soaking," she said, laughing as she felt his soaking hair.

"Yes," said Claude, running his own fingers through her hair and wringing out streams of water.

They stayed like that for several minutes, floating in their heavenly atmosphere and reveling in the affliction induced euphoria of their intimacy. Soon, Aimée shivered from the water and the temperature.

"Are you cold?" asked Claude.

"A little."

"I can fly us to where it is warmer; we still probably wouldn't be seen."

"No, I like it here," said Aimée, grinning. "I can think of other ways we can stay warm."

"Oh, I'll heat you up." said Claude, understanding her meaning.

They began to move together in a steady, lovely rhythm which grew in intensity. Fed by the affliction's hunger and their own youthful passion, they did not pause for nearly half an hour. Claude found himself emulating her earlier, long strokes, keeping as much contact as possible between their bodies.

"Oh my," said Aimée, feeling the tremors begin.

Slowing his pace only slightly, Claude pushed himself harder against her, striving to brush his pelvis against hers while also filling her completely with his hungry rod.

"Oh my!" cried Aimée, echoing her last phrase but with more intensity. "Oh -- my -- God!!!" she screamed, falling into bliss. Claude increased his tempo now, matching his rhythms with her cries. Louder and louder she screamed with joy, and Claude had no intention of slowing down.

"Oh please, Claude. Stop. Stop!"

Claude laughed as her body shuddered from one final thrust within her.

"You are so bad," she said, kissing him. "Torturing me like that."

"You do the same," he said, cradling her against him.

A very short while later, he subconsciously began moving again.

"Sorry, are you ready?" he whispered.

"Of course," she replied.

Something about her cries of passion, the surroundings, the secret location...perhaps all of it, something truly stirred the hunger within Claude. Keeping himself inside her, he spun Aimée around so she was facing away from him. Grasping her hips, he started pushing her away, then pulling her back into him.

"Oh!" she cried at the impact of his thrust.

Again, and another cry.

Now she reached back with her hands and he took them instead. Sliding Aimée the full length of his shaft, he pushed and pulled her with greater and greater force. Soon, even that wasn't enough and Claude discovered he could push her entirely away from him, off of his cock and jerk her back onto him, sliding down the length of his shaft to slam into his body with frightening force. Her cries drove him on and he continued this motion with something akin to rage in its ferocity. He felt an unquenchable thirst growing within him and it seemed it could only be fed with more of the same.

Aimée felt a similar lust within her. Claude's guttural grunts awakened a primal hunger within her.

"Fuck me, Claude," she screamed. 'Fuck me', 'baiser' and every sexual word in every language she knew came spilling out of her mouth in her lust.

Claude shifted again from his long plunges to a more urgent, rapid-fire attack within her. Both of them were screaming now in staccato bursts with each thrust.

Something shifted within Claude and it was as though a red haze fell in front of his eyes. Forgotten was Aimée, forgotten was the ship, forgotten was even his own name. He was only an animal, and he only knew that he must conquer this woman before him. He could smell her blood. The desire within him wasn't to kill her, but to mix with her. He needed to possess her in the only way possible by taking her as a bloodmate.

Aimée felt the change, but more than that she heard the transformation. His voice was no longer quite human, but animal-like, a snarling growl of challenge. Her own body responded and she pushed against him, inviting him to take her, a crimson veil clouding her own vision.

She was suddenly dizzy too. What she didn't know was they were falling. In his surrender to base instinct, Claude had actually forgotten to continue flying. They were hurtling from the sky, the wind whirling them about -- though they barely noticed. Like two mating eagles, they were plummeting earthward and were entirely unaware of their peril.

Claude was nearing his explosion, and his teeth were bared. Aimée herself was ready for him to take her, to mix his blood with hers with an instinctual bite. She pushed aside her hair, baring her neck in readiness for merging with her lover. As she felt the first hot stream of cum gush inside of her, her soul thrilled in exultation at what was to come.
However, a twist in their motion and the rushing wind suddenly caught her attention. Aimée was jolted back to her senses and recalled her mother's caution.

She tried to deplace away from him, but they were too connected physically. All she succeeded in doing was bringing them back to the cloud where they began falling once more. She struggled and twisted about to face him to try and keep him at bay.

Claude lowered his mouth to her neck, still a mindless being driven by primal needs. As he shot voluminously inside of this woman, he felt something stop him and angrily struggled to reach his goal. He wasn't even aware of her hands pushing him away; he only knew that something was keeping his hungry mouth at bay, pushing him from her neck.

"Claude! No! No!"

Suddenly he came to his senses. There was Aimée, still engulfing his cock and the warmth surrounding it told him he had climaxed. Yet the moments before all seemed like a dream from which he had only just awoken.

"Claude! Please stop. Please!" Aimée wept.

"I'm here. I'm here, Aimée." He righted them and stopped their fall.

She pulled off of him. Both of their faces were pale and frightened.

"It was the bloodlust," she said, wiping the tears of fright from her eyes. "Mother warned us, and we almost succumbed."

"I am so sorry," said Claude.

"No, it was me too. I forgot. I totally forgot myself. I was lost in the passion as well."

She buried her face in his chest, shaking from fear. Claude also was frightened at the startling episode they'd just had.

Having had a few moments to regain their composure, they looked down to the ocean, searching for their ship.

"There's our ship." said Claude. "Mademoiselle, would you care to transport us back?"

"Wait. That isn't the Siren," said Aimée. "Look, there are two ships, that one, and the one far ahead. The sails on this one are different. What on earth?"

Claude took the lead now, taking her hand and flying them down to the water's surface. He had learned the knack of swift flight well and they sped rapidly across the water. As they grew closer to the mysterious ship, the smell of rum wafted over them. Suspecting the worst, they flew directly below the rear deck. Floating up, their suspicions were confirmed. The ship reeked of filth, and there above the mast flew the Jolly Roger. Much to their surprise, a drunken pirate came 'round a corner and stopped upon seeing them. In a flash, Aimée willed them back to her cabin, and the pirate could only wonder if the rum had been stronger than suspected.

"Get dressed," said Claude.

"All right, but we'll be in grave trouble if..."

"Trouble makes no matter," said Claude. "Aimée, think. If that ship overtakes us by daylight, we are beyond helpless. Now, get dressed."

* * * *

"You what?!" demanded Palo. "After we expressly told you no flying."

"But we couldn't have been caught," insisted Aimée. "We never flew within sight of the Siren."

"But still, you disobeyed..."

"Palo, my love. Let us deal with discipline later. For now, we have a very urgent matter at hand."

A minute later, they were approaching the captain.

"Yes, my good friends?"

"Captain, how would you like to go for a flight?" asked Frederique.

The captain looked taken aback, but then smiled earnestly.

"It would be an unprecedented honor."

* * * *

Scarcely half-an-hour later, Frederique and the captain alighted back on the deck of the Siren.

"By god, I have stepped into another world," said the captain. "Thank you, Frederique, I shall never forget this?

"Well, can we outrun them?" asked Palo.

"I sincerely doubt it," replied the captain. "She's not well kept, but she's bigger and faster than us. I know the vessel. It was made in Spain's finest shipyard and was lost perhaps two years ago."

"I see," said Palo. "And how long before they overtake us?"

"In this wind, I'd estimate they'd catch us mid-afternoon the day after tomorrow."

"Palo whistled between his teeth appreciatively.

"What would you wager our chances of besting them are?"

"Fifty-fifty," said the Captain. "I wish it was better, but she is larger and better manned... and if they catch us during daylight, my four best fighters are no use."

"How long until daylight?" asked Frederique.

"Two hours, give or take," said the captain, checking his watch.

"Fifteen minute flight there, fifteen back." said Palo. "That gives us an hour to do our work, building a margin for error."

"Do you honestly mean to tell me the two of you could take on an entire ship? And win?"

Frederique grinned. "The odds are a bit in our favor, captain, but we'll give them a sporting chance."

"Not two, four." said Claude, stepping forward.

"None of that, son." said Palo. "This is no time for..."

"No, they should come," interrupted their mother.

"Darling, I..."

"Palo, please." She pulled him aside to speak in hushed tones. "If this were a battle among the Afflicted, I would say no but you've seen Claude at work. The finest sword arm you've ever seen, you said so yourself."

Palo vacillated, but withered under her gaze. "Very well, Claude may come along, but not Aimée."

"Why not?"

"Because, she's a girl."

Frederique's gaze became even more stony. "Don't make me send you back to the storeroom. 'She's a girl?. "You've seen her ability; she can outfight all three of us, and then some."

"Besides, Papa," said Aimée, sidling up to him and batting her eyes. "I can save us a fifteen minute flight each way."

* * * *

The four of them gathered several minutes later. In Frederique's hand was a jar of cotton balls.

"What is that for?" asked Claude.

"An important precaution," explained Frederique. "There is nothing more dangerous than an Afflicted youth who hasn't mixed blood yet. As you well know, children, the Affliction wants a mate more than anything in the world. Alone, you can control it. However, if you should smell blood -- true, fresh blood in great quantities, that dear friend inside of you will seize control of you in ways you never imagined. It will wish to feast and to find a mate. Stop up your noses thoroughly."

They did as she asked.

"Are you ready?" asked Frederique.

Aimée looked hesitant.

"Are you sure you can get us there?" said Palo.

"Getting there isn't the problem, Father," said Aimée, quietly. "I can still visualize the deck and the sails. The jumping isn't the problem."

"Then what is it?"

"It's the killing. I've never done it, that's all."

Palo cursed a few choice words in Arabic, but Frederique remained calm.

"Darling, don't fear about that. It will be surprisingly easy. Just get us there and you'll be surprised at the rest. Now remember, everyone. No witnesses. No survivors. It is the law of the Afflicted and cannot be broken. Always, the secret must be kept."

"I understand," said Aimée.

Aimée took Palo's hand first, winked out, and in an unbelievably short time she was back and whisking Frederique into nothingness. Before Claude knew it she back with him and with a wink she wrapped her hand around his wrist and they were off.

An instant later, they were all standing on the aft deck of the pirate ship. Looking around, they were pleased to see they had arrived undetected. Peering about with their enhanced vision, they could make out seven men on deck. One in the crow's nest, one at the wheel, and one on watch on the foredeck. The other four were asleep.

Frederique pointed to the crow's nest, and then made a 'come here' gesture, looking to Aimée to be sure she understood.

Aimée nodded, and almost instantaneously they saw her wink out and reappear, holding the man before her, hand clasped over his mouth. He looked at the three figures before him with a frightened and confused gaze.

Frederique held up a silencing finger to her lips and Aimée released her clasp on his mouth. "What is your name, my good man?" whispered Frederique.

"Michel," he whispered the man in a strong French accent.

"Oh, you are French. I am so sorry. At least let me do this for you."

Frederique leaned her face into the man. Stunned, he accepted her tender kiss and then his eyes opened in shocked surprise. Stepping back, Frederique revealed the poniard she had silently plunged into his neck.

"If you had to die, at least it was at the hands of a beautiful woman, no?" she said softly. "Sleep well, my friend. Sleep well."

The sailor slumped and Aimée lowered his dead figure to the deck.

"Wait here," said Frederique in muted tones. She and Palo slipped over the edge of the ship and flew around the sides. Claude and Aimée saw them appear near the two other men who were awake. Palo glided slowly behind the man at the wheel, and Frederique slipped up behind the man on watch. In unison, they each grabbed their man from behind, bared his neck, and sank their teeth into the soft flesh. Though each man struggled briefly, it was soon over. Palo and Frederique lifted their heads and their faces practically glowed with the exultant strength gained from drinking the entire life from a victim.

Claude flew, and Aimée deplaced to the side of two of the men sleeping on deck. Their parents each picked a man and with a nod from Palo, four blades plunged into four chests, snuffing out the lives instantly.

Just as it seemed this was going to be easier than they'd thought, footsteps could be heard and the door to a cabin opened. A startled man looked out at the sight before him.

"Alarme! Alarme! Al..." his last scream was silenced as Aimée appeared behind him, sword already thrusting as she arrived in his space.

"Remember," said Palo, offering one final bit of advice as cries, footsteps and shouts rang from below. "Engage with swords, flee from pistols."

With that, time for talk was over. Armed and panicked men spilled from two hatches. Palo and Aimée took one hatch, Frederique and Claude the other. The first wave of pirates had little chance, each of them felled by a blow before they could even get through the door. Eventually, by force of numbers they were able to push through over their fallen comrades and engage with the family.

Short work was made of most, though some proved to be quite able swordsmen. Claude thrilled at his first true kill, and then his second, reveling at the feel of his blade passing through the flesh. By the time he reached his fourth he was ecstatic.

"Claude, careful!" he heard Aimée shout.

He turned to see a man with a pistol aimed straight at him. Instantaneously he felt Aimée's arms around him and she deplaced him directly beside the man with the pistol. Dispatching him with a quick thrust, he muttered a quick thanks to Aimée.

"Frederique, Voler! Fly!" shouted their father. "You take to the air, Claude and I will engage them on the ground. Aimée, focus on the men with guns!"

The family proved a startlingly efficient team. Claude and Palo were now fighting back to back, their blades weaving an impenetrable mesh that the mowed down pirates like a threshing machine. Frederique made rapid passes over the heads of the pirates, both blades plunging downward wreaking deadly havoc. At the same time, she slashed through the riggings, the sails falling limp and the ship coming to a standstill.

Frederique had another ability that she rarely demonstrated while sparring with the family. Just as she could scoop liquid into the air without touching it, she was able to control other objects. Swords flew out of sailor's hands. Casks went flying into unsuspecting fighters. In a brief moment of respite, Claude watched his magnificent mother at work and realized if she was pressed, she probably could have taken the entire ship by herself.

Aimée winked in and out so fast she was barely visible. Men fell in her wake, pistols and blades rolling out of lifeless hands onto the deck.

Claude was the first one injured. Pushed backward, he stumbled over a dead body which gave the man he was fighting enough of an opening to slash a huge gash into Claude's left arm. Angry at his clumsiness, Claude redoubled his efforts and dropped the man seconds later.

"What happened?" asked Palo, looking down at Claude's arm.

"I tripped."

"Tripped? How do you trip when you can fly?"

If Claude could have, he would have smacked his forehead at that point, but another man came at him and it was back into the fray.

In what seemed like moments, the sounds of fighting dwindled to that of just two blades clashing. Claude and Aimée looked around to see it was Palo fighting a man with handsome, if scarred features. There could be no doubt that this was the captain.

That the captain was an amazing swordsman was obvious, his blade met each of Palo's thrusts with ease. It was a marvelous thing to watch. Aimée, Claude, and Frederique gathered to watch with admiration.

"Why doesn't Father fly?" asked Claude.

"Honor," said Frederique. "It's one thing to use the best tools available to win a battle, but this is a duel. Your father is showing the proper respect due such a fighter."

Soon, however, it was clear that Palo's enhanced strength and ability were winning out, and a minute later the pirate captain's sword came clattering to the deck.

"You are a wonderful fighter," said Palo. "I thank you for the contest."

With that, a final thrust was delivered and the ship was silent.

Palo turned to Frederique. "How long 'til sunrise?"

"Still an hour."

"Good work my children?" said Palo, smiling at Claude and Aimée. "I'm very proud. How's that arm, son."

"Perfectly fine," said Claude. His wound was nearly healed already.

Frederique bent over the body of the captain and looked to his neck.

"There they are," she said, removing a leather cord with several keys on it. "Let's see just how successful these pirates were."

First, they made a sweep of the ship, seeking out any cowards still hiding. Regardless of their reputation, it seemed these pirates had at least been brave, for not a soul was found below-decks.

In the captain's quarters, they found a small chest that contained a few hundred gold-pieces.

"I think there must be more," said Frederique, "this would have been his payroll. Where else?"

Getting an idea from his own cabin on the Siren, Claude crossed to the portrait on the wall behind the desk. It seemed the captain had possessed the ship for some time, because his own portrait was on the wall. It showed him standing on a dock, his foot resting on a large wooden chest. Claude ran his fingers over the painting and felt a raised edge around the chest. Pushing gently, he smiled as the wall swung open, revealing a small room with not one, but four chests filled with coins and jewels beyond anything they might have imagined.

"Well my children," said Frederique, grinning, "it seems you will be making a good start in America even without help from your parents. Aimée, take these to your room."

One by one, Aimée deplaced with each of the chests. As she did so, Claude assisted in spreading gunpowder from the powder kegs around the deck. Finishing the job, Palo found a cask of very strong rum and mixed it with the already volatile powder.

"Palo, why don't you return first?" suggested Frederique. "Let the captain know we are all safe."

Palo nodded and winked out the next moment with Aimée.

Claude looked about the deck and was surprised to find himself more satisfied than shocked at the killing he'd done. It was sort of pre-justice in a way; these pirates would have surely destroyed them given the chance.

He'd been breathing through his mouth this whole time and it was starting to annoy him to no end. Without even thinking he reached up and pulled the cotton from his nostrils.

"That's better," said Claude."

"What's better?" asked his mother, "Claude, no!"

It was already too late. The red that had clouded his vision with Aimée was nothing compared to surge of hunger and lust that exploded in his head the next moment.

Aimée reappeared at that very instant, smiling to him. She was calling to him. The smell of her was overwhelming. 'This is a suitable mate' his body seemed to say. 'This is the one for you.'

"Claude, whatever is wrong?" asked Aimée. "Do you wish to go next?"

"Aimée, get away," said Frederique.

"But why?"

"Do it!"

Her mother's orders were not to be disobeyed. Not a moment too soon, Aimée winked out at the very moment Claude launched himself with a hungry roar to where she'd been standing.

He was met mid-air by his mother who collided with him and launched them both into the sea.

Aimée, who had leapt back to the Siren, appeared once more and could only watch from the deck helplessly as Frederique wrestled with Claude in the waves.

"Let me go!" shouted Claude. His head had cleared just a bit with the salt water, but the smell of blood from the ship was still strong.

"Claude! No! You mustn't. Listen to me! Tell yourself who you are! You are Claude Dujobe. You are a young man from Morocco on his way to America."

"I am in love with Aimée!" shouted Claude. "She is mine and I will take her!"

"You will not!" said Frederique, sternly. "It is forbidden. You must wait."

He continued thrashing against his mother, but Frederique showed surprising strength and kept them floating there in the water.

"Shh," whispered the mother into her son's ear. "Shh, calm yourself. Calm your hunger. You will find your mate soon enough."

Claude tried again and again, but his fighting grew weaker and weaker. Finally, the overwhelming emotion left him weeping in his mother's arms.

"Why? Why can't I have her!?" he sobbed.

"Maybe someday, you never know," she said, kissing him tenderly on the forehead.

With that kiss, a sudden shift raced through Claude's lust filled mind.

"Why should I?" he said. "Why should I have her when you are right here?"

Frederique hesitated for a moment, and then spoke to him tenderly.

"Yes, if that's what you need, take me here Claude. I will not let you bite me, but if you wish, satisfy this hunger upon me."

"I will," said Claude, "But I will taste your blood as well."

With her abilities, Frederique could easily have thrown Claude from her. Instead, she simply isolated his head, not letting it come any closer than an inch or so to her neck or arms. Claude tried and tried, with no success. Finally he abandoned those efforts and concentrated on his purely carnal desires.

Reaching down beneath the water, he removed his mother's bloomers and opened his breeches.

There was no hesitation here. His already stiff member soon found his mother's warm opening.

"That's it, my boy. Satisfy yourself. I'm here for you."

His body sang out at the contact, and though it renewed his thirst for the full blood mating, her barrier kept him back and forced him to think only of their sexual union. She met his challenge and they started coupling with an animal-like intensity in the warm waters of the Pacific.

Claude wanted more, so much more. He wanted to taste her breasts, her skin with his mouth. However, this simple fucking was enough for now. Not realizing it, he suddenly saw that Frederique lifted them out of the water. The loss of the water's resistance allowed them to increase their pace, which they did.

Still keeping him at bay, Frederique spun around, keeping him inside of her all the while. They were now floating before Aimée, who watched with equal parts jealousy, awe, and horror as her lover/brother roared with base lust, slamming into their mother from behind in rapid thrusts, their bodies thudding together with an audible smack with every thrust.

"Now," said Frederique, tightening herself around him. "Spill into me now, my boy. Relieve yourself of at least that yearning."

Claude did. As he came he tried once more to possess his mother. Still she was too strong and his climax was one of both release, but also rage.
As had happened in the sky, Claude's body was intent on spreading as much seed as possible. His balls tightened and his interior swelled. He roared as hot jets of cum sprayed again and again into his mother. It was too much for her to contain and huge droplets began falling from her onto the deck. She spun 'round once more and face him, hugging him to her as the worst of the bloodlust escaped him.

Aimée had been transfixed by the raw and frightening coupling taking place before her.

Claude and Frederique were now panting in the air. Claude especially, given his monumental orgasm, was hard put to even stay awake.

Frederique seized this advantage and put her hand on his cheek.

"There you are," she said gently. "You are tired now, yes?"

"I am, but I still want..."

"Shh..." said Frederique.

Using a technique taught to her by the ancient Roman physician she'd mentioned to Claude when explaining the affliction, she used Galen's knowledge to reach far into Claude's mind.

"Sleep, child," she whispered. "Sleep and find peace."

Claude slumped into her arms and she descended to the deck.

"Aimée. Aimée!" she said, shaking her daughter out of her trance.

"Oui Mama," said Aimée, looking to her mother fearfully. "Mother, will he always be like this until he takes a bloodmate?"

"I don't think so," said Frederique. "This was an unusual day in all respects. I think tenderness is the key. If you keep your activities in check, if you stay gentle, I believe you should be safe."

"How did you... why did he..." Aimée started, then trailed off; her mind too stunned to ask the numerous questions rolling around in her head.

"He unstopped his nose," said Frederique. "The bloodlust overtook him and because he has yet to take a blood mate he lost control. A sexual union has taken away the worst of it, and I put him into a deep sleep. He will awaken much calmer and much safer. Provided you keep things gentle, you should be safe for the rest of the voyage.

"Mother," asked Aimée cautiously. "Why shouldn't we? Why shouldn't Claude and I take one another to mate? It's been done, yes? With brothers and sisters?"

"It has," said Frederique calmly. "The issue is not blood relations as it is mixing the proper abilities and temperaments. Of all the council laws, this is the one I have come to respect more than any other. Our greatest monsters; Bathory; Vlad the Impaler; and certainly the horrible monster who caused the war which took my family; they were all the result of unsanctioned mating. Other than exposing our kind to mortals, there is no action that brings down greater wrath from the council than taking a bloodmate without their and blessing. Understand?"

Aimée nodded.

"Good, now take your brother back to his cabin then hurry back for me. Your father will start to worry."

Aimée wrapped her hand around her sleeping brother's hand and whisked him away to his own bed aboard the Siren.

Returning to the pirate ship, she watched with admiration as her mother scooped a stream of water from a cask she'd found to cleanse herself of Claude's great explosion.

"How lovely it is that our men fill us like this, no?" she said, smiling. "Such fun."

Once finished, Frederique found a wooden match near the cannon supplies.

"It is a pity to waste such a vessel," she said, "but it is in poor enough repair that it is better to destroy it than rid it of the bodies and try to explain things."

Lighting the match, she let if fall. As the flames spread rapidly across the deck, Aimée whisked them back to the Siren. Resting in their quarters, the first explosion of the powder on the pirate's ship shook the air for miles around.

Aimée was terribly lonely; her Affliction was hungering for companionship after such an eventful day. She pictured herself lying with her brother, and soon found herself there, wrapped around her snoring lover. Exhausted, she too surrendered to sleep, dreaming of cloudy liaisons and fierce battles.






CHAPTER 5



Claude was asleep on his back with his hands stretched out over his head.

Something was chipping away at the wall of sleep encompassing his mind. It was a sensation of some sort -- softness - softness touching his chest and his legs. There was a weight upon him. He wasn't sure quite what it was until he felt a delicate hand grasp his already firm cock and position it so it could slide into Aimée's wet and ready interior.

She began moving up and down upon him. As consciousness slowly took over his dreaming state, he was impressed at the way she was taking charge -- doing all the work. However, it soon became too much for him. He lifted his legs for more leverage and then moved his hands to grasp her waist...

That is to say, he tried to do those things. However, his legs wouldn't move very far and his arms wouldn't leave the position over his head.

His eyes popped open and he became instantly awake. He tugged harder at his hands, but they wouldn't budge. Looking up, he saw they were in handcuffs which were affixed to a ring in the wall. Looking around Aimée's torso, he could see ropes around his ankles which were tied to the end of the bed.

"Aimée, what in the hell?"

"Mother's orders," said his smiling sister, who dipped down to teasingly almost kiss him. "After your behavior last night, she recommended this to keep you in control until I've satisfied your hungers each day."

"But..."

"No arguments from you, you wild young man. If mother hadn't been there, we would have become bloodmates and most probably been outlawed by the council."

"Aimée, I'm so sorry about that."

"Don't worry yourself Claude. It's not like we could have prepared ourselves for this. We just need to be careful. Now, for those hungers of yours. First, and most important..."

Without even pulling off of him, she reached across him to retrieve the small vial of blood from the bedside table. As she was doing this, her breasts drifted tantalizingly close to his lips yet she pulled back as he craned his neck to reach her.

"No, no, no," she admonished him.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Moi?" she said, batting her eyes innocently. "My brother, I have nothing but the highest concern for your health and also to safeguard our future. Drink."

She held the glass container to his lips and tipped it, pouring the red fluid from their mortal blood nurse into his mouth. Claude felt the faint red tinge slip away from his mind as he became human once again. The only hunger remaining was for the need she was already feeding. As he had been drinking the blood, she'd begun squeezing his rigid cock with her silky inner walls.

"Do you like this?" she said, bending down to whisper in his ear.

"Oh yes, I do," he gasped as he was stretching his neck again for a kiss.

"Oh no, not allowed," she said, lifting up again.

"What? I can't even kiss you?"

"Not until you can control yourself. Besides, this is incredibly fun."

Aimée was having fun, and worked her way up and down his stiff member with amazing patience. She'd given herself a challenge to make this session last as long as possible. As she milked him with her tightness, she would dip down now and again to brush her nipples across his chest.

"Aimée, please."

"Please what, dear brother?"

"Please stop tormenting me so. Fuck me, I beg you."

His voice was hoarse, his face was taut from the tension of this denial.

"But Claude, we must learn control," she said firmly. "If we are to be lovers for the remainder of this voyage, we must deny our strongest lusts, no?"

"I suppose you're right -- mon dieu," he moaned as she gave an extra squeeze with her inner muscles, milking a few drops of early fluid out.

"Besides, you can't deny this is enjoyable," she said calmly as she kept up her methodical attentions.

He could not deny that. Neither could she, however. She kept up her ministrations and a few seconds later, it was Aimée who was caught by surprise.

"Oh Claude, oh my darling!" she cried, gasping as an unexpected orgasm exploded within her. She collapsed onto his chest and reached up to grasp his pinioned arms with her hands. She cried out into his chest and then her legs began to shake uncontrollably. She jerked her head up and grasped Claude's face in her hands.

"I can't...I mustn't...I..."

She couldn't even speak intelligibly as the climax overtook through her body. All she could do was stare desperately into her brother's eyes as her pussy clenched and unclenched his manhood involuntarily.

"Oh Aimée!" he cried, her orgasm triggering the one she had been teasing from him. For him, it was a tortuous ecstasy, being unable to hold her to him during his climactic throes.

One thing was the same as his last two times making love. Claude felt his loins tighten and a huge gush of liquid surged into his sister. The larger amount was noticeable and made both of them gasp. It happened again, but there seemed to be no subsiding with the second burst. So surprising was the volume that it brought Aimée out of the throes of her orgasm and focused entirely on the eruption happening within her.

"Oh my, Claude! How you are filling me!"

He was about to respond, but a third burst erupted and rendered him incapable of speech. A fourth wave of explosions followed and Claude lay gasping.

Aimée giggled affectionately at the current dripping out of her.

"When I say fill me up, you do just that."

As she pulled off of him they had yet another surprise as the friction of her pulling off of him triggered yet another surge. She slid off of him and grasped his cock quickly.

"Oh my, such an ambitious appendage you have."

It was truly ambitious, for this was no final drip from a withering erection, but a full jet from a still-hard cock.

"Oh my God, Claude! Oh my!" she squealed.

Sensing his need, she kept her hand wrapped around his cock and pumped determinedly as Claude's near painful climax continued -- and continued -- leaving his milk-chocolate-brown chest coated in white cum by the time he was done.

Then, and only then would she release him from his bonds. Though his sexual urges were sated, for the moment, the denial of physical closeness and left him wanting and he scooped her up into a fierce embrace, squeezing her close to him and kissing her desperately.

"That was some performance, my brother," she said when they finally felt normal again. "Perhaps you should be tied up from now on if it gets that sort of results."

"I don't know if I could survive it. It was almost frightening in a way. With a normal climax, I often feel like I am spilling all of myself into you -- with this one, it was like I would have nothing left. Now come here."

He tipped her over onto the bed and pinned her beneath him, kissing her tenderly.

"Claude, you mustn't..."

"I know what mother said, but I'm safe right now -- I promise you. I have no bloodlust or uncontrollable need. Yes, I need you terribly, but I know what I'm doing -- I'm aware of my actions now."

They kissed gently for several moments before hearing their mother's knock on their door. She stepped into the room to see their two naked bodies entwined.

"But my, I have beautiful children - so beautiful. How did the restraints work?"

They informed her it had gone well, and Claude confided in her about his quantity issue.

"Yes, it was a lot when you spilled into me, I remember," said their mother, frankly.

This caught Claude by surprise, it seemed an eon ago when his mother had constrained him and quelled his overwhelming lust brought on by the smell of the blood from the pirates they'd massacred.

"Mother, I'm sorry and grateful for what you did. I want you to know that I..."

"That you don't lust after me?"

Claude blushed, for that wasn't exactly true.

"Well, that you don't wish to mate with me, sweet boy," she said, kissing him tenderly on the cheek. "I know you lust after me and I take it as a compliment."

She was wearing a low-cut frock and Claude actually had to glance away to keep from actively lusting at that very moment.

"As for these gallons of lovely white deliciousness, there is an explanation," she said. It was time to hold another class for her two children.

"As I think I've told you, Afflicted men do have ample volumes. It has something to do with the extreme health of the body."

"In awakening, however, Galen the physician noted that the penis and its attached plumbing works extremely hard. It seems that Claude's lovely member is striving to impress us by putting out as much fluid as it can... it is sort of saying, 'look what I have for you, potential mates'."

She paused for a moment and had to suppress a giggle.

"What, mother?" asked Aimée. "What is so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. Nothing, at all."

"Please. What were you going to say?"

"Very well," said Frederique, giving in. "There is a competition among certain Afflicted women to bed these boys before they find their bloodmate. They love sleeping with men who have so much to give. There is a certain phrase used, and it's quite vulgar."

"Go on," insisted Aimée.

"It is called 'milking the stallions'."

Their father was quite the horseman, so the images the expression brought to their minds were quite vivid. Aimée broke down in peals of laughter at the idea of a bucket beneath her brother's lovely instrument of carnality. Claude tried to be offended at first, but couldn't help but eventually laugh as well.

"Can you blame them, though?" chuckled Frederique. "Who could resist the novelty of so much messy, delicious fun?"

"As for your activities, I realize it is going to be extra difficult with us cooped up here in the hold for the next week but here are the rules. When in doubt, Claude must be restrained. I will check on you two every evening to assess your state. I can sense Claude's level of desire and I will be the one to assess if he can go without restraints. One piece of advice, Claude."

"Yes, mother?"

"Drink as much water as you possibly can. You need to replenish all of that fluid somehow."

Another knock came on the door. Claude and Aimée scampered to don some clothes so as not to upset their father.

"Come then, my fine fighters," he said. "It is time to survey our spoils of war."

They all went into Aimée's room, where she had taken the chests from the pirate ship they had conquered. Aimée examined them excitedly.

"They are very heavy, so I can only imagine what is in them."

"Is it more difficult?" asked Claude. "Travelling with them, deplacing both them and you?"

"Surprisingly, no." said Aimée. "When I deplace, I am nothing and nowhere. There seems to be limits. For example, I don't think I could grab the mast of the Siren and take us all back to Morocco, but the chests and people. They are no problem."

Palo pulled up a chair and sat in it. Frederique stood at his side.

"Claude, Aimée, I can't tell you how relieved I am that we happened across this unlikely windfall. We now know that you will always be able to care for yourselves financially. As you know, we are well off. However, the move from Morocco cost more than we'd hoped, and it is taking longer than anticipated to divest of our assets."

"So, you're saying we're poor?" teased Claude.

"Mon dieu, no." said Frederique. "We are still wealthy by most standards."

"However," said Palo, "It has always been our wish to set you up well in America."

"Now we have this," said Frederique, gesturing to the chests. "Your father and I talked, and we decided, regardless of the contents, these should be yours to have and do with as you wish."

"Oh, mother! That is too generous!"

"Don't speak too soon," smiled Palo. "We've yet to open them. They might be nothing more than copper pieces. Though I doubt the captain would have hidden them so well if they were."

Frederique produced the keys she'd taken the night before and unlocked each of the four chests, but waited to open them. With a great sense of excitement, each family member stood before a chest. Palo's was the largest, Claude and Frederique's were a matched pair, about knee-high, and Aimée's was the smallest, a more ornate chest with gold inlays.

"One, two, three." said Palo, and they flung the chests open.

It was not copper.

Like a scene from a novel by Dumas, they stared down at the glistening treasures before them.

The chest in front of Palo contained a mishmash of currencies; Spanish reales, British coins of many varieties, and the bottom was lined with Italian gold coins.

Claude's box was more uniform, containing primarily gold ingots stamped with the royal seal of Denmark.

"We'll have to melt those down," said Palo. "But this chest alone will buy you each a house as large as you wish to build it."

Claude and Aimée exchanged a private glance, recalling their conversation of nearly a fortnight ago. The ramifications of a shared house had taken on an entirely new meaning.

Frederique's treasure chest was full of silver ingots, not as valuable as the other chests but certainly spending money for more than a few years.

Last came Aimée's little wooden chest. Once open, they all stood back in wonder at the sparkling contents within.

"How does the phrase go?" said Frederique. "Good things come in small packages."

There were jewels of every type. The most common were diamonds and emeralds. There was certainly a fortune in those alone, but the prize piece was a sapphire necklace with six jewels the size of a thumbnail, and a center stone which was a star sapphire as wide as a large doubloon.

"This is a royal jewel," said Frederique, gazing on it in wonder. Such amazing, deep color and the quality is so clear. It looks like a pool in the Mediterranean."

"You should wear it," said Aimée, holding it up to her mother's neck.

"No, you would wear it my dear. But we must treat this stone with caution. Such a prize as this would not be unknown. It has quite likely been seen around the neck of some princess or even a queen at some point. It is best we hold it secret until we can ascertain more about it."

* * * *

Though they were certainly thrilled about their newly won wealth and the prospects of what it could do for them in America, there was also a sadness about this final week. Neither Claude nor Aimée spoke of it to each other, but it loomed heavily for both of them. That this time together was to be their last days of intimacy.

Every day, Frederique would stop in on them and touch their skin -- using her well-trained senses to detect whether they were safe in their lovemaking or whether Claude should be restrained. She sometimes had to suppress a grin when the two young lovers seemed somewhat disappointed when she would announce that that Claude needn't be tied up.

How quickly they learn, she mused to herself.

And with each day, with each moment of intimacy -- the upcoming parting loomed larger and larger. Claude sought out his mother one afternoon to confess his horrible despair, and was surprised to find a weeping Aimée already with Frederique.

"Claude, you have questions, too?"

He nodded, fighting back his own tears as he looked at his beautiful lover resting her head in their mother's lap.

"First, the two of you must know that no one would have ever planned it this way. Certainly, in an emergency taking comfort from a relative is condoned. However, no one would have ever recommended two young, newly-awakened siblings be asked to spend weeks together with no other options. As happens with anyone, you have begun forming a deeper bond. I know that for both of you the prospect of mating with someone else is hard to fathom."

"It's impossible," wept Aimée. "I love Claude!"
She sat up and looked to her brother, taking his hand.

"Claude, I do love you. I can't bear to be with another. I'll petition the Council the moment we land. It must be us, for now and for always."

Claude grasped her hand tighter, letting her know in that small gesture that he felt the same way.

"Listen to me, my children," insisted Frederique. "I know that it seems that way now but I want to put this quite bluntly. You are still animals. Your Affliction is even more of an animal. When you land, you will be separated and introduced to others of our kind. Within a day or so, no matter what your heart tells you, your loins will convince you otherwise."

"How can you say such things?" cried Aimée. "We are not beasts! We are humans! We are more than humans! We have chosen each other and that is that."

"We have discussed this," said her mother, calmly. "It is for the Council to approve of mates and they don't often sanction sibling pairings, especially not as a first pairing. Now enjoy this last day before we reach the harbor. Don't waste any of the time you have left."

That night, Aimée was more restless than usual. They were about to begin their union and restrain Claude when they heard their parents begin their own lovemaking session. Aimée had rarely been bold enough to watch their parents since the first time, but today she felt differently -- knowing it would be her last chance to do so secretly.

"This will be a fine warm-up," she said, crossing to the eyepiece. "Come and watch with me."

She pressed herself against the wall to watch and Claude pressed himself against her. As they took turns at the viewer, they also worked each other into a frenzy. She pushed her shapely ass against him and he pushed his inflexible friend back into her. Clothes were off soon enough and the perspiration on their bodies served as fine lubricant as he worked his rod between her cheeks as she writhed and shoved against him. By the time their parents were spent and Frederique was sitting for her post-lovemaking oil ritual, their hearts were pounding at a furious rate and their hunger was palpable.

"Now I will take you," she said fiercely.

There was something in her tone that raised a small alarm in Claude's mind, but before he had a chance to react to it she had his hands cuffed and was pulling down on the ropes for his legs.

"Aimée, perhaps we should call mother," he said, gently.

"Call her for what? To tell us we are nothing more than farm animals? I don't think so. No, this is between us, Claude."

She mounted him in one move and began to ride him. The look in her eyes truly frightened Claude. The look was frightening because it was familiar. His face had borne that same look in the clouds and on the pirate ship. She was succumbing to bloodlust.

"Moth...!"

His cry for Frederique was stifled by Aimée placing a shirt over his mouth.

"Oh no you don't," she whispered urgently. "This will happen."

She grabbed a silk belt from her robe and gagged Claude efficiently.

"Don't fight this, Claude," she urged, grunting as she pumped her hips feverishly on his raging cock. "This is the only way, don't you see? We will get to New York and they will separate us and likely throw us in a cage with another animal until we are forced to mate with them. I can't lose you. I won't lose you."

Claude was prepared to argue, but the bloodlust was overwhelming his own consciousness. All he could see was her neck. All he could smell was her blood, beckoning him to drink -- to intermingle with his.

He nodded, ceasing his struggles and dedicating as much as he could in his restricted state to meeting her thrusts.

"Have we reached an agreement?" she said, noting the change in his eyes.

He nodded.

"Good."

She reached back to free his legs to allow him more movement. She also removed his gag. They began in earnest, with Claude even adding an extra lift-- piercing further and further into her.

"Ooh, that's it," she growled.

It truly was a growl. Her voice was different. Though she wouldn't have liked to admit it at the time, their mother's words were very true. She sounded more like a beast than a human as the primal urges surging through her body pushed her higher consciousness into a dim corner of her mind and she became more and more like a feral animal in heat.

The hunger within them was reaching a critical level. Instinctively, they knew they would take each other when they came.

For Claude, forgotten was Aimée's lithe body and perfect breasts. All his mind could focus on was the spot on her neck where her pulse was thumping visibly from her exertions.

The same was true for Aimée. Though she was riding her athletic lover with carnal abandon, that was merely a necessity. It was his blood which called to her now.

She lowered her mouth to his neck. Closer and closer, she could practically taste his red water of life spilling into her mouth. Her hips began to twist at the start of a climax and she knew it was time. Down her mouth went for the final bite which would make them one forever.

The bite never came. As she lowered her head, her mouth was stopped not more than an inch from her target.

Frederique had heard the growls through the wall and dashed over just in time to stop her daughter.

Aimée shrieked in frustration. In her ravenous haze, she was unable to comprehend what was happening. She kept struggling, intent only on her brother's neck.

"Stop it. Stop it!" said a voice from somewhere. She tried to ignore the voice but it was so insistent.

"Aimée. You must stop!" said the voice again.

Aimée? She knew an Aimée. It was a name she had heard many times. Oh! It was her. It was the girl she had always been but Aimée could not exist any longer. Not until she became merged with this magnificent male beneath her.

Aimée was suddenly ripped away from him. His huge cock no longer filled her completely and she was borne, by her hair it seemed, away from him and pinned against the wall. She snarled in anger and did all she could to get away.

Frederique contemplated what to do now. Aimée was nothing more than a wild beast and needed to be held down somehow. Meanwhile, Claude was moaning for completion and floating in the air, his cuffed hands the only thing holding him down.

Losing the contact with Claude, Aimée began to feel a bit of her consciousness returning to her. She now knew she was Aimée again, and knew it was her mother who was holding her back. That didn't change her resolve to have her brother. She needed him desperately and was determined to wink out and lose her mother.

Easier said than done, however. Frederique kept a firm grip on her daughter -- so they both deplaced and appeared suddenly in Aimée's cabin. Aimée tried again and they were both back in with Claude..

"Let me go, mother," Aimée growled, insistently.

"I don't think so, Aimée. We're so close to America. Don't ruin it now, I beg of you."

There was a rational part of Aimée's mind which tried to listen to reason. It almost won out, but Claude groaned at that time and renewed her primitive hunger.

"Let me have him!" she cried.

"No!" insisted Frederique.

"Yes!" spat Aimée. "I won't give in. This hunger can only be quenched by one thing. You can't calm me like you did Claude."

"Oh can't I?" inquired Frederique, rising to the challenge. "Just because you aren't attracted to women doesn't mean you're immune to certain attentions. Yes, that's exactly the solution. Thank you for suggesting it."

"But I..."

"Shush, dear. No point in resisting. It's time for a cure - well, a temporary cure, at least."

Aimée tried to argue a bit more, but saw that she wouldn't get anywhere trying to reason with her mother.

Frederique was not gentle. She quickly reached down and slipped two fingers forcefully into Aimée's dripping pussy. Aimée stared at her with a stubborn look on her face, determined not to let anyone but Claude provide her with a climax.

It wasn't easy, though. Her mother's many centuries of experience clearly wasn't limited to the male members of their species. Between her able fingers and her thumb working insistently on Aimée's already engorged clit, Aimée felt the passion returning. With the same powers that had held Claude at bay, Frederique released her hand from Aimée's neck and instead pinned her daughter to the wall with invisible force. Her hand drifted down to her daughter's pert right breast and began massing it, stirring more reluctant moans from her dangerously excited daughter. So adept was the ancient, ageless woman, she was even able to drop her mouth to Aimée's other breast and tease the nipple with her tongue while still inhibiting Aimée's movement.

"Oh Mama," Aimée groaned as Frederique sucked practically half of her breast into her mouth while continuing to tease the sensitive nipple.

"That's it, my girl," she said between attentions. "Surrender to this. Satisfy yourself here so we can make it to our new home safely.

"But I want Claude," Aimée murmured between groans.

"Like this?" inquired Frederique, shifting tactics with the hand which was ministering to Aimée's pussy. She took the two fingers and began pulsing them in and out of her daughter.

"Yes, like that," moaned Aimée. "But he's even bigger."

"Oh? Like this?" Frederique asked, switching to three delicate digits which both filled and stretched out Aimée's tight, hungry pussy.

"Oh yes," moaned Aimée, her body beginning to shudder -- involuntarily or voluntarily - it didn't matter now, she had surrendered.

Frederique had also been pinning Aimée's arms to the wall with her gift. Now, she released them. Aimée did just as she hoped, pushing one hand down to massage the swollen clit her mother was no longer touching.

"Oh Mama. Oui Mama," groaned Aimée as she took her other hand and caressed the back of Frederique's head. Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu!"

The climax her body had been longing for arrived and Aimée cried out softly, falling onto her mother's shoulder just to stay standing. As the last paroxysm shook her body, she drifted down the wall and rested exhausted on the floor.

"I'm sorry, mother," she said as her eyes struggled to stay open.

"I am, too, my dear," said Frederique, her heart going out to her infatuated daughter.

She knew through her own experience that the pain of Aimée being denied her brother as a bloodmate would pass, but that didn't make it any easier at the moment.

"Sleep now," she urged. She reached out with the tendrils of her mind to encourage the natural post-orgasm drowsiness. Aimée responded instantly and slumped to the floor. Frederique wished she had Galen's gifts, which could be used to fool the Affliction into several days without sexual replenishment. The best she could do was send a soothing message to Aimée's 'friend' that would hopefully at least get them through their New York arrival.

Frederique covered Aimée with a nearby robe and then turned to Claude who was watching helplessly -- lost in his own lustful haze which had faded a bit, but was no less urgent.

"Now, stallion," said Frederique, "I have to admit the stories Aimée has been telling me have more than piqued my interest. What do you say I milk that painful looking thing for you?"

Claude was too numb to do anything but nod in agreement as Frederique darted to her cabin to retrieve her beloved oils.

"How far we've come, no?" she said as she sat lovingly beside him on the bed and placed a gentle hand on his swollen member. "It seems a lifetime ago when I first came to you in your hour of need. One more time. One more time and then you'll have so many hungry Afflicted girls after you this will all seem as distant a memory as that time I first soothed your awakened beast."

Claude tried to protest, to insist that he would still need Aimée, but she put a silencing finger to his lips.

"How about we leave it at this. Talk to me in one month's time and then you can tell me how true these words that I have said tonight are. For now, just let me release the floodgates my boy."

She now kneeled between his legs, grasping his swollen organ and lathering it with her scented lubricants.

Six hundred years as an Afflicted. With the sexual hunger attached to their gift/curse - that meant hundreds of thousands of sexual unions -- millions of strokes gone into finding the perfect way to please a partner. Once again, Claude was the grateful beneficiary of all of that experience.

Though expert, she was not languid in her approach. She knew Claude was already near bursting, truly. She also knew Palo could stir very soon and she would rather not walk the path of explaining these activities which he still did not comprehend as anything other than abominable.

"That's the way," she cooed as Claude's breathing began to quicken. "Don't hold back; let me see how much you are holding inside."

She squeezed harder at the tip now while stroking his rigid shaft with her other hand. His hips bucked. She pointed his cock into the air - tilting it ever so slightly in her direction.

Even she was surprised at the stunning eruption which shot forth. Unchecked by a woman's milky walls, the steam shot higher and higher into the air -- coming down on her hair, her face and spilling down across her gorgeous breasts.

"Oh my, Claude!" she squealed with involuntarily excitement. "Again, my boy. Do it again."

His cock needed no persuading and actually shot the next blast even higher, up and over her shoulder. She couldn't help but laugh as the streams kept coming.

"Oh my goodness, where do you keep it all, darling?"

By the time he was done, her front was spattered entirely with white creamy liquid, as were her thighs and his belly. Even her chin still dripped from the one blast she had ducked down to capture in her mouth.

"Bravo, my boy," she said, patting his chest maternally while holding his still hard cock in her hand.

She gave it a teasing stroke; sure he would shudder from exhaustion.

"Oh god," he moaned as her movement brought it back to full rigidity.

"Still?" she said, amazed. "After all that?"

"Yes," he rasped. "Just once more, mother - once more. It seems to never be at peace."

She couldn't believe what he said - but his lovely rod was indeed responding in lively fashion to her attentions.

She pushed her awareness into his body and tried to sense why his 'friend' was still hungry. Reaching out, she still sensed loneliness coming from his Afflicted cells. Though his body was obviously sexually satiated, the Affliction yearned for more -- for companionship. Having been interrupted with Aimée and only satisfied by Frederique's hands and mouth -- his highly sensitized and awakened body was still not satiated in its primal desire.

Frederique sighed and then padded quickly in to her cabin to assure Palo was still slumbering soundly. He was and she returned, locking Claude's door and slinking to his side.

For a second time on their journey, she knew what her son needed and was the only person who could provide it. She had no objection to providing him the services of her hands or mouth. That was merely physical relief. As for full penetration, she knew of the psychological implications but saw no choice. With luck, she could fully satisfy him and send out an extra message to his body that it needn't mate for at least a day or so.

"Very well, my handsome boy. I will do this for you."

She climbed up on the bed and straddled his massive, turgid cock. It was certainly not a 'clean' experience. His belly was still coated, and so much of her skin was still soaked and even crusting over with his copious white emissions.

"Mother? Are you certain?" gasped Claude as she placed his engorged head against her moist lips. "Before, I was in a blood rage. You needn't do this. I will restrain myself."

"No my dear," she said, pausing prior to penetration. "We make harbor tomorrow and we need you fully aware and focused for our arrival. It would hardly do to have you manacled for safety upon our arrival in a new country. But listen, Claude..."

At that point, she paused and pushed down upon her son's cock, the lingering semen serving as sensual lubricant in her acceptance of him into her body. He gasped in pleasure and she took her face in his hands, staring deeply into his eyes which bore the look of passionate panic one might see in a rutting deer or some other animal caught in the throes of nature's compulsions.

"Listen," she repeated, gazing into his eyes to attempt to both bring back his human side and also command the beast within him. "You are not alone. You are here, with others of your kind and you will soon have many mates to choose from. Do you comprehend?"

"Yes," said Claude, confused, "but...:"

"It is important you hear those words with your very soul, my lovely boy," she said, "for that is where this insatiable need originates, in loneliness. So long as you can tell yourself you are not alone, you will be able to keep the craving in check until you find your bloodmate. So - are you alone?"

"No, mother," whispered Claude as he pushed his first stroke into her.

"Good," she said.

She had retrieved the key to his handcuffs earlier and now unlocked his hands.

"Are you alone?" she asked again.

"Oh god, no," groaned Claude in relief as he wrapped his arms around her.

"No, you are not," she said, smiling. She could already feel his afflicted body crying out in relief from mating with one of its kind."

This union was one fraught with much conflict. There was Palo in the next room, who would never understand this gift she was offering out of necessity. There was Aimée, who would be fine while sleeping, but might become dangerously aroused once more if she were to awaken and witness their lovemaking. Finally, there was Claude, who must be carefully regulated in his passion to avoid him losing control and attempting to take her for his own bloodmate. However, if there was any one who could control a sexual union, it was a beauty like Frederique who had a few centuries' experience to draw on.

"That's it," she said softly, using her hips to control his pace.

"You are amazing," said Claude as she gave him the full attention of her body. Tightening on his cock from the inside -- pushing on the proper nerves to both soothe and excite him with her fingers.

"So are you, my boy," she whispered.

And he was, it had been some time -- almost a decade, since she'd lain with someone other than Palo. Viewed objectively, she could hardly do better than the fine specimen her son represented.

She soon signaled with a soft push on his shoulder that they should switch positions and they flipped over, Claude now impaling her from above.

"Slowly now," she said in soft, hypnotic tones. "Soak in this union; let your Affliction revel in knowing that it has a companion."

She was clearly the superior in this situation and he followed her orders to the letter. She had been with dozens of men of many shapes and sizes, and each brought their own benefits. One thing she enjoyed much about men with greater endowment was the length of the strokes it afforded them. Though she was still in control, her body could not help but respond to the strokes her son was pushing into her.

"Oh yes," she moaned as his shaft of pleasure worked all the way from her slippery opening to so far back he was stretching her insides to the point of beautiful pain.

"So good," moaned Claude. "So good, not alone, so good, not alone." He repeated the phrase again and again.

She felt it first, and was surprised that it was her body which surrendered to climax first.

"Oh, mon fils," she gasped, reverting to calling him son in her native tongue in her passion.
"Oui, ma mere," he replied, her voice also sending him over the brink into rapture.

For several moments, the two of them completely forgot each other. There was no mother. There was no son. They were merely two lovers, merging into bliss and assuring one another of companionship in the lonely world.

The heat within her pushed her even further into surrender. The hot jets of cum filling her were unlike any she'd felt since she'd mated with her first husband hundreds of years before. So lost was she in the experience that she nearly forgot herself and could only urge him to fill her more and more.

He did just that, and soon the hot white syrup was positively flowing out of her.
"Keep coming, my love," she begged him. "Don't stop."

"I couldn't if I tried," he groaned into her ear. "Oh mother, this monster is killing me -- it's taking every last drop from my entire body. I will not survive."

She smiled and almost laughed. Sex was the small death in normal situations; she couldn't imagine what it must be like to have such an extreme release.

"You'll survive," she said soothingly, "trust me."

After what seemed an impossible amount, his spurts did subside and she held him close as the last twitches left him nearly senseless.

As she had with Aimée, she again sent a reassuring message into his system as he drifted into unconsciousness.

"Frederique!" called Palo from the hallway. "Frederique, where are you?"

"Mon dieu!" she gasped, pushing Claude off of her and scrambling to put the room in some semblance of order as she spoke.

"Yes, my love. I'm just looking after the children," she called through the door.

"Are they awake?" he asked, jiggling the handle.

"No, no -- they aren't awake," she cried. "Be quiet then, and let me just tidy up."

With her superior strength and levitation abilities, she quickly lifted Aimée to the bed and then covered the two passionate youths with blankets. Grabbing a washcloth from the basin, she cleaned herself as best as she could before opening the door and slipping quickly out.

"Are they all right?" he asked, concerned.

"Yes, yes -- I just gave them a little something extra to assure they slept and are prepared for tomorrow."

"Yes, tomorrow," her handsome, dark husband said, smiling. "Where we can put this escapade behind us and get on with a normal life. As normal as it can be for our kind."

He pulled her into a kiss but pulled back.

"You're so warm."

"Yes, yes -- just the heat of being in these stuffy quarters."

"I'd like to warm you up even more," he said, kissing her again.

She was just able to stop his hand as it slid down her side and tried lifting her gown. A veritable river was flowing out of her and she had to think fast to avoid a very complicated explanation.

"Oh, let me warm you up first, my love," she said, dropping quickly to her knees. "I've been fantasizing about tasting you for over an hour -- just wishing you might wake up."

* * * *

Claude and Aimée awoke much chagrined the following morning. She awoke entwined with Claude and saw her mother quietly doing needlepoint in the chair.

"Mother, I'm so ashamed. I'm so sorry!" she said, standing and crossing to hug her lovely mother.

"So you said last night," replied Frederique calmly. "It is my fault in a way. I was silly to think only the boy in this situation would be unable to control himself. I've seen my share of bloodlust -- and girls are no less immune to primal desire than boys. The good news is, we enter the harbor this very evening and a new world awaits us."

The remaining daylight hours progressed quietly. They packed their things and stacked their luggage in their cabins. They dropped anchor just down the coast from New York, mid-afternoon, at which point the captain cleared the deck and came below to discuss disembarkation plans.

The plan was consistent with usual Afflicted transports. They would enter New York Harbor at twilight and drop anchor once it was dark. Once all was confirmed to be safe, a launch would come to take them to the city. Their captain was so accomplished that he had even timed their voyage to arrive in late afternoon.

"Now listen carefully," explained Captain Brand. "We don't anticipate any trouble, but we must always be prepared. Each of your doors swivels outward and will block the hallway as well. If there is any sign of trouble, you are to move to the innermost cabin -- your parent's cabin -- and lock the two prior doors. These doors are steel lined and Council built. Even the new steam machines of the day will take some time to get through these defenses. If such a thing should come to pass, we trust Council defenses will arrive before they are able to penetrate the inner cabin.

The captain walked them through the lock-down procedures and gave them a few other words of just-in-case advice before offering them his hand one final time.

"My dear friends," he said, kissing Frederique's hand respectfully. "It is always a pleasure to be in the service of the Council and your most remarkable kind -- but I cannot remember such fine gentlemen and beautiful ladies -- as well as such gifted fighters. It has truly been an honor."

"What are your plans after this?" asked Frederique gently. They had all become quite fond of the captain and wished him all the best.

"Well, I had planned on serving another ten years before taking the blood rite. However, after that remarkable flight with Frederique I am tempted to convert as soon as I have enough merit points. That should be two or three more transports after this. I think I am ready to give up the sun after meeting such fine people as you."

(It was the practice of the Council to find and vet trustworthy mortals for daylight service and after a period of twenty or so years, to reward them with the Affliction if so desired.)

"We would also be honored," said Frederique, "to have such an able and intelligent a man as you join our ranks."

"I thank you, and I bid you farewell. Things generally go very fast upon the transfer to a new port."

Upon the captain's departure, Palo had a look of concern on his face.

"Children," he said, "as an extra precaution, we should move your bags and the treasure into our quarters."

Little did he know how grateful they would be for his caution.

Claude and Aimée chose to wait in his cabin while they entered New York Harbor. They took turns at the viewer and gasped with excitement at seeing the vast expanses of buildings which dwarfed anything they'd ever even imagined. They turned in surprise at the sound of their mother's voice.

"And what mischief are you two getting into."

After an initial blush, Claude confessed.

"Well mother, we might as well tell you know -- this remarkable painting gives us a view of anywhere on or off of the ship."

"Anywhere on the ship do you say?" she asked, arching an eyebrow.

Aimée's blush was all she needed for her answer.

"What a remarkable invention. And smoked glass, too, I see. Well, keep watching."

During one of Claude's turns, he looked away from the viewer and to his mother worriedly.

"I think the police are coming," he said. "There's a rather official boat approaching with men in uniforms."

"Nothing to worry about," said their mother. "The Council has relationships with every port authority. No doubt they'll make a show of inspecting us and send us on our way."

Claude kept watching the approaching vessel.

"What strange uniforms they have in America," he said, squinting his eyes trying to make out the details in the setting sun. "Pointed black hats, and the insignia, it's a chalice of some kind. Yes, a chalice with what looks to be a white drop on the side."

"What did you say?" said Frederique, alarmed.

"Yes, a white drop..."

"Let me see," she said, shoving him aside.

She peered intently into the viewer and gasped in alarm.

"Lock us in!" she cried. "Claude, get your father and work with him on locking the doors. We must retreat and pray to whatever gods smile on our kind."

The tone in her voice broached no argument and they quickly followed her orders. They were already sliding the large bolts on the inner door when the small bell rang in the cabin which signaled the alarm.

"What has happened?" asked Palo.

"It is the black guard," she said -- and for the first time in their lives Claude and Aimée saw their mother truly frightened.

"I thought they were just a myth," said her husband.

"Oh no, they are very real. Men trained and indoctrinated by the Vatican to seek out and eradicate our kind."

"I'm not concerned," said Palo. "We must merely wait until the sun sets and then we eliminate them like we did the pirates."

"Oh no we won't," said Frederique between clenched teeth. "Listen to me Palo, whatever you do don't engage these men unless we have no other choice."

A great pounding began and echoed throughout the hull.

"Aimée, take us back home," said Frederique. "Take us to our basement."

"Nonsense,' said Palo, though he didn't sound so confident in his argument.

"It doesn't matter," insisted Frederique. "We'll make our way here again but being in the new world means nothing to us if we are dead!"

A huge crash sounded down the way. It was clear the first barricade had fallen.

"Aimée, now!"

Aimée grasped their hands and envisioned the basement of their Moroccan home, their safe haven for as long as she and Claude and been alive.

Yet, at that very moment there was the curious pop of in the room.

"'Ello me lovelies," said a man's voice. It caused them to turn abruptly and Palo to draw his sword. The man in the black bowler who had appeared snipped out just in time to avoid Palo's thrust. He was now on the other side of the bed in the cabin.

"Would love to have some fencing practice, good sir," the jovial looking man said. "But right now I'd much prefer to get you all to a safe location."

"My good sir, are you a deplaceur?" asked Frederique.

"I am indeed," he said, bounding across the bed and taking two of them by the hand and tucking two of their hands beneath his arm. "I'm a jumper and it is time -- we -- JUMP!"

They all felt the curious pop of the magical transport and were now standing in what appeared to be an underground train station.

"Now if you'll excuse me," said their savior, "I'll just retrieve your luggage."

"I'll help," said Aimée, and they both winked out at the same time. Seconds later, they both reappeared with luggage and chests in tow and covering their eyes.

"Blimey, they had a flasher!" said the other deplaceur. "Automatic suns, them things are. We just got out as they were breaking down the door. Right handy to 'ave another jumper along, or you wouldn't have had those lovely chests to bring with you."

They expressed their deepest thanks to the man, Brolly Smythe he was called.

"My pleasure, good folks," he said, smiling. "Now if you'll excuse me. If the black guard found 'ye there, there's no telling what other troubles they're causing. I've been instructed to ask you to stay here and not go into receiving room quite yet.

He winked out and they now had the chance to take in their surroundings.

They were in a large, vaulted room that looked very much like something that might be found in Grand Central Station. In fact that was exactly what it was. The Council had been instrumental in the planning of Grand Central depot which was still being built. Their involvement allowed them to construct their own great terminal 200 feet below the actual building.

Their room was smaller and looked to be some sort of office. There was a door and it led onto a much larger room with a stunning, tiled, vaulted ceiling. This was the Afflicted equivalent of Ellis Island, where people came to be received into the new country. It appeared to be a busy evening, for there were over twenty families in queues waiting to be checked in.

One curious element was the presence of white dog-like creatures who roamed about the room. They wove their way in between the legs of everyone and would often rub up against the visitors affectionately.

Frederique gave a squeal of delight when one slipped through a doggie door at the base of their door and scurried up to them.

"Oh, come here, beautiful!"

The animal she spoke to instantly jumped into her arms and then rapped itself around Frederique's neck, emitting a growl-like sort of purr. Its eyes were red, its teeth were sharp, but it exhibited nothing but love for any of them.

"What is it?" asked Aimée, petting the cuddly creature with interest.

"It is our ancestor, in a way," said Frederique. "It is a Night Fox, and it was from the bites of such creatures that we first gained the Affliction."

"No," said Aimée. "I can't believe these adorable things would never harm a soul."

"Not one of the Afflicted, no. However, their purpose here is a very real one. They do not like anyone who doesn't share the infection that gives us our gifts and long life. They are both companions and sentries here. If a mortal were to attempt to enter this room, the night foxes would dispatch them long before any of our guards could. I tried many times to get some shipped to us in Morocco, but they need companionship even more than us. The Council couldn't spare a full pack of them, and in truth our lodgings were not suited for that many."

Just then, a rather disturbing screeching noise came from beyond the door. Many heads turned in alarm and Claude and Aimée peered out and saw that the noise came from two night foxes coupling with abandon.

"So, they are very much like us, yes?" said Claude, grinning.

"Oh yes," said Frederique. "They are rare in the dog family. The female is always willing to mate, even when not in heat."

A short while later, the door opened and in walked a beautiful, fair woman who spoke English with a Scandinavian accent.

"I'm so sorry for the delay," said the woman. "We've had a busy day here with so many couples arriving, and now the black guard. I was instructed to give you a private interview, so please do sit."

She walked around to the other side of the desk and sat, inviting them with a gesture to take their seats opposite her. They did, Frederique still stroking the Night Fox affectionately. The woman gave a second look to Frederique, as if she was trying to place her in her mind, but couldn't.

"Name?" she said to Palo.

"Palo Dujobe."

"Lineage?

"Son of Caliph Muhammad Dujobe, Grandson of..."

"Afflicted, lineage," she said, patiently.

"Ah, said Palo. None. First generation."

"Year of birth and year afflicted, name of blood-affliction progenitor."

"Born, 1789. Afflicted, 1823. My wife, Frederique was the one who took me to mate."

"Very good," said the woman, glancing up to Frederique with a spark of interest. "Languages spoken, beginning with primary."

"French, Persian, Arabic, Aramaic, Egyptian, and English."

"Very good. Skills and education?"

"Skills, flying and sword fighting. On ground, I am a master with the seight, long sword, and epee. In the air, my skills are gaining. Education -- privately tutored in mathematics, science and literature. I seem to have a good ability with long term investing which I hope will be of service to our kind."

"Very good, that will be all."

Frederique smiled since she was next in line.

"Welcome, good lady. Your first name is Frederique, yes?"

"Yes," she replied. "Frederique Dujobe."

"I see, so you took this dark-skinned Adonis to mate."

"Yes, I did. He pleased me...and still does," said Frederique.

"I would imagine," said the clerk, eyeing Palo up and down. "May I please have your prior names, and maiden name?"

Frederique hesitated.

"Please, Madame."

"Very well," said Frederique, gathering herself. "My prior name was Frederique La Teilière, before my marriage to Christophe La Teilière, I was Frederique Bonajute, Bonajute from my father, and my mother was of the Georgiou family, first-bitten.

The woman put down her pen and looked up at Frederique in disbelief.

"You are Frederique La Teilière?"

"Yes. For the rest of your paper, I was born in the year fourteen..."

"Fourteen-hundred and twenty-seven. Yes, I know," said the woman, standing.

"Madam Frederique, I am Sigrid Henriksdottir, born of Henrik and Helen of Rotterdam. I think it safe to say I owe you and your family my life, or at least my existence. What you did in Paris is legend. I offer this to you."

The woman had unwrapped a scarf about her neck and tipped her head backwards. It was the ultimate sign of respect and allegiance among the Afflicted. While in some societies one might bow, or in others prostate oneself; Among their kind, to offer one's throat was the equivalent of saying "I offer you my blood, my life, my eternal allegiance."

"Oh my," said Frederique, blushing.

She stood up and bent gently to kiss the exposed throat sensuously and respectfully. This was the act of acceptance.

"I fought well, I suppose," said Frederique. "But I did what anyone would have done."

"No, Madame. The sacrifice your family made to preserve the location of our enclave. By all accounts you saved all of Paris and London. We have long believed that you perished."

"It was meant to be that way," said Frederique, "I have lived peacefully in Morocco for these past decades, and during that time I gave birth to these lovely children as well. Though I am concerned that on my first night in the new world that I have been attacked by the black guard."

"The siren was your transport?" gasped Sigrid. "Oh, great lady, I assure you it wasn't because of knowledge of you. The black guard has been making raids more frequently of late. I assure you that the New York enclave is the safest in all the world."

"That is reassuring, truly," said Frederique, gracious as always.

Sigrid got back to the business at hand.

"I trust these two exceptional young people are your children?" asked Sigrid.

"Oui."

"Awakened?"

"Oui, I mean yes," said their mother.

"All good," said Sigrid. "It seems your papers are in order. I will buzz in someone from the academy."

She pressed a buzzer and shortly thereafter a woman entered from the back door of the office. Her looks rivaled Frederique's in her own way. Not as buxom as Frederique, she was slender and blonde with a strange sense of calm about her. When she greeted them, there seemed to be a tinge of a Slavic accent.

"Good day, travelers. My name is Brana and I am the dame of the New York Academy for Afflicted youth. It is my pleasure to receive you into our system. I will process you and get you on your way at once."

Sigrid whispered into Brana's ear and she looked up with a shocked expression.

"My lady, welcome," she said to Frederique.

There was something hypnotic in her tone, it made one feel safe and at home.

"Now, what is your name my beautiful young lady?" she said to Aimée, taking the young woman's hand.

"Aimée Elisabeth Dujobe. Born, 1850. Languages, French, English, German, and Spanish -- Latin and Greek, of course."

"I see," she said, evaluating Aimée. "Skills?"

"Swords, strong swimming, a few other things, and deplacement."

"Deplacement? Is this true?"

"Yes."

"I am so envious. Could you show me?'

"I suppose, "said Aimée.

Aimée pointed to an empty side office with a glass door. "There."

With a quick noise, she was gone and standing where she'd pointed. Just as quickly, she was back again."

'Oh yes, the council will be taking very good care of you," said the lovely blonde, with a wry grin. What about this handsome youth?"

Claude went through the paces. When he finished, Brana had one more question.

"Can I ask, when did you two awaken? You're not mated with anyone yet, and we've no records of you."
"During the voyage," said Frederique in a taciturn voice. "I urged the council for a deplaceur, but they deemed it unnecessary.

"Ooh, just the four of you on the ship. How did you manage?" said Brana teasingly.

"We did what had to be done," said Palo, defensively. "No more, no less, and now the journey is at an end. Life will return to normal?"

"Very good, sir," said Brana with a twinkle in her eye.

"He is young, isn't he -- still new to our ways?" she whispered to Frederique.

Frederique nodded discreetly, not wanting to upset Palo.

Brana took Claude's hand in one of hers and Aimée's in her other.

"To explain our system," she said calmly. "Were you not yet awake you would reside with your parents and attend the Academy by day. However, with you being awake...and your recent circumstances, we have dorms for those in your situation."

She pushed a button on her desk and continued talking.

"The two of you will be lodged in separate dormitories, away from each other -- and the location of the other dorm will be unknown to you -- especially with your skill at jumping, Aimée."

"So, you are saying we will be saying goodbye to them soon."

"Yes, very soon," said Brana in her soothing tones.

A man entered the room whose face was nearly as kind as the tall blonde.

"Yes Brana, how may I be of assistance?"

"Yes, Tomas. This is Aimée, a deplaceur. She has awakened and I think the Astor residence hall will be the best match for her."

"Very good, Brana."

"As for Claude, I will take him to his lodgings personally."

"I understand," said Tomas.

"But, I can't!" said Aimée, tears streaming down her face. "Please let me stay with mother and father. I'll behave, I promise."

"That isn't the way my dear," said Brana, taking Aimée's face in her hands and talking to her gently, but in a way that communicated no possibility of contradiction. "You will be going with Tomas and you will be well taken care of. The time has come for the next step in your life. Say your farewells."

Aimée tearfully said goodbye to her mother and father as Claude was doing the same. The two of them were the last to face each other and she hugged him desperately, whispering into his ear.

"They can tie me down and make me sleep with a thousand other men, Claude," she said in a voice so soft only he could hear, "but I will return to you and nothing they say will stop me."

They were already being pulled apart. All Claude could do was nod softly in echo of her sentiments.

And then they were gone. Aimée was led out of a nearby door and Claude was lifted off of the floor by Brana as she flew him to where he would be spending the next chapter of his life.

It was all so sudden. Frederique wiped a few tears from her eyes.

"Our children are gone, Palo," she said sadly. "Off to new adventures, new lives...off to find their mates."

"Yes, and that's good," said Palo. "It is time for them to find others. To take the next great step. Come darling; let's find our lodgings for the night. Time for adventures of our own."

Palo was perplexed, however. What had been this business about Frederique saving people? He had known she was a warrior, but the way Sigrid had treated her had raised many questions in his mind. Who was his beautiful wife, exactly? The visitors to their home in Morocco had always treated her with respect, but he had assumed that was simply the way of The Afflicted to those of their kind who had lived so long. It seemed there was more, though. He looked forward to hearing Frederique's side of the tale, but he would let her tell him in her own time. If she hadn't told him yet, she must have her reasons.






CHAPTER 6



Aimée was numb. She followed her guide, Tomas, in a fog of emotion. Less than a month ago she had lived in Morocco with her mother, father, and brother. Aside from the fact that they slept by day and only went outside in the darkness they had been a normal family.

Now, Aimée was alone. Her parents of nineteen years were elsewhere. Her beloved brother (and now lover), had been placed in separate and unknown quarters to protect them from each other. Lost in a new world, ripped from her family, she had never felt such despair.

So, she followed Tomas through the subterranean corridors the Afflicted had built beneath Manhattan. She was walking toward a future which she believed would bring her nothing but sadness.

"Hop aboard," said the kindly Tomas.

"Hop?" she said, confused.

"Yes -- onto the train. It takes us straight below Astor Place. Not much more walking now. Sorry I'm not a flyer, nor a jumper like you."

Aimée murmured something about no need for apologies and they stepped aboard the cylindrical train which fit perfectly into the round tunnel in the rock.

"It's pneumatic," said Tomas, doing his best to pique her interest.

She looked at him with a confused look on her face.

"Have you ever used a drinking straw?"

"Yes," said Aimée, confused.

"We're about to be 'drunk' through a very long tube with a similar concept. It is the quietest system our engineers could contrive which allows us to move at ease beneath the city without creating any curious rumblings that might raise questions."

Numb or not, Aimée couldn't help but watch in wonder as they were whisked down the silent tube with nothing more than a small 'whoosh' to get them started.

They stopped in three stations along the way with. Tomas excitedly explained the New York system to Aimée -- how each stop had a cross station, creating essentially a horizontal ladder of tunnels from the battery to Central Park that allowed people to move freely around the city below ground. Aimée did her best to listen, but the fog of grief made it hard to concentrate.

They arrived at their station and walked a short way to a lovely arch with tiles that read "Astor Dormitory". Before Tomas could even knock, the door opened and a striking young woman stepped out.

"Hello, Tomas!" she said, hugging him affectionately.

"Abby, lovely to see you, as always."

The young woman turned in Aimée's direction Aimée instantly felt a sense of home and of comfort. Abby was a truly lovely girl. Her hair was red and her skin fair. She was close to Aimée's size but her body was quite curvaceous, and it was shown off to full effect with a low-cut blouse and a form-fitting skirt which would be considered risqué for the time (above-ground, at least). The most curious and hypnotic thing about Abby was her eyes which seemed to both pierce through Aimée's very soul, but seemed to see absolutely nothing at the same time.

"Welcome, Aimée," she said taking the new girl's hand in her own.

As soon as they touched, Aimée felt something akin to a sharp pain in her soul -- but not with any malevolent overtones. It was just a heart flutter, a knife-slip of emotion. Somehow, she knew that she had just made a lifelong friend. Tears formed unbidden in her eyes and she saw similar ones forming in Abby's face.

"Oh my dear, Aimée," said Abby, reaching up to brush away Aimée's tears. "I see why Brana sent you my way. We have so much in common. I assure you that it isn't as black as it seems. Now come with me and I'll show you your new quarters."

"Do you need me to come up?" inquired Tomas.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, you old letch?" said Abby teasingly. "Nothing like getting a free peek at some nubile bodies, right?"

"I resent that remark," said Tomas, chuckling. "But just out of curiosity, is Jacqueline wearing clothes yet?"

"Goodness no," said Abby, giggling. "She's still lobbying to make the dorm permanently clothing free -- though it keeps getting voted down. Now off on your way, old man. Go play with someone closer to your own age."

"His own age?" inquired Aimée after he'd left. How old is he?

"Tomas? He was one of the founding members of the Spain enclave in the tenth century."

Aimée shook her head in disbelief.

"It's funny; our little group in Morocco was so small I always knew everyone's age. This will take some getting used to -- trying to figure out how long someone has been around. Do you have any tips on how to tell?"

"Well, I have my own ways -- but for you I'd say just look into the eyes. There's a wisdom in them that only comes with age, regardless of how young the Affliction keeps us. Now, it is time to get you upstairs and force you to lie with one of your young men."

Aimée looked up, alarmed, and then saw the sly grin on Abigail's face.

"Just a joke," she said, taking Aimée's arm. "Not a very funny one at that, but I thought I should disarm you. First, you should know that, yes, there is a lot of coupling going on in our dorm. For that matter, there is a lot of tripling, quadrupling, and other combinations happening as well. Beautiful people, without bloodmates, driven by a mindless organism that only lusts for a companion of its kind - what would you expect?"

"However, there is also a huge amount of respect and love in our little sex hostel as we call it. No one will force you to do anything, and you will be fully allowed to take things at your own pace. Clear?"

"Yes, clear," said Aimée as they paused outside of a great oaken door.

"First, we need to teach you to the door."

"Teach me to the door?"

"Yes, the door is truly an amazing machine put together by our finest engineers. You place your hand on this pad and it recognizes you through the lines on your hand and the presence of the Affliction. Only one person may pass through at a time, and once you are mated, your signature is removed from the dorm door. This place is only for unmated Afflicted and our chaperones. You go first; there is a second door within. I will follow as soon as you are through."

Once the door knew her, Aimée put her hand on the silver pad and the door opened to a small antechamber. Stepping up to the next door, she placed her hand on another glowing pad and pushed gently. Her imagination was running wild at what she might see. An orgy? Girl's being dragged off by their hair? She wasn't quite sure.

What she saw upon the door opening was a bit of an anti-climax to the scene in her mind. It was a large residence in a cross shape. She was standing at the top of the 't' where the entrance was. Walking inward a few feet she saw a wing to the right that appeared to be some sort of gymnasium with a fencing floor and a pool at the far end, opposite that wing looked to be a lounge and eating area with a pantry, tables, and sofas.

Down the long end of the cross appeared to be the rooms where people slept.

There were four people fencing and Aimée, a student of the art, was instantly drawn to watching them. Two were very accomplished, one was an expert, and the fourth was a master. She found it odd to evaluate them, though, because deplacing had changed her approach to fighting entirely. She realized she had an entirely new skill to master.

Her eyes were next drawn to the walls. There were oaken beams and lovely patterned wallpaper, but she was surprised to see that a wall which had been green with a flower pattern when she walked in was now red with a geometric pattern. The ceiling, too, seemed to be moving in some way.

"It's to guard from people like you," said Abby, who was now standing at her side.

"Like me?"

"Deplaceurs. Jumpers. You have to be able to see where you are jumping -- and if it is constantly changing it makes it a bit hard."

"Very clever," said Aimée.

She was so mesmerized by the varying colors that she hadn't noticed the silence that had fallen over the room. The fencers had stopped their practice and were walking toward her, their masks removed. Two of them were young men, and 'ogling' is the only word to describe what they were doing.

"Hello everyone, this is Aimée -- freshly arrived from Morocco and our newest resident. Johnny, Steven," she said to the two male fencers. "Put your tongues back in your head and give her some space. She needs time before having to put up with your none-too-subtle advances."

They looked slightly chagrined, but still continued to eye their newest 'prey'.

Several people nodded their greetings and a few stepped up to introduce themselves. The most brazen was obviously the girl Tomas had mentioned. She had been swimming and had emerged from the pool fully naked. Grabbing a towel merely for the sake of drying off before dropping it, she approached Aimée in a frank, yet catlike fashion. Her body was long and lithe, her breasts settled high and amazingly on her chest.

"Name's Jackie," she said, offering a hand to shake. "Just so you know, clothing is optional."

* * * *

Brana had flown him Claude down several long corridors until they arrived at the entrance to the 46th street dorm. Brana, as lead supervisor of Academy housing and acclimation, was allowed free passage into and out of both residence halls below New York.

Though Claude was also reeling from the emotional upheaval, he also processed things differently. He wasn't as bereft as Aimée but he still felt a curious sense of removal from the rapidly spinning events in his life.

Clouding his thoughts, also, was the growing longing for physical companionship. Brana had been sure that he take an extra dose of blood before they set out for the dorm, but the needs of the lusty 'companion' inside his body were turning into a bit of a loud roar of want -- especially with so many new Afflicted women surrounding him as he walked through the underground streets and passageways.

Foremost in his thoughts was obviously Aimée, but even the touch of Brana on his arm was making him call his mother's words to mind. "You are still animals. Your Affliction is even more of an animal." He was keenly aware of Brana's soft scent and smooth skin and his cock was rising to attention quickly. He was thankful for the loose fitting fashion of the time, allowing him to at least conceal some of his involuntary response.

After being keyed into the door, Claude was immensely impressed with the dorm to which he'd been assigned. Just entering, Claude was impressed with the shape. They stepped into a curving corridor which had individual rooms all the way around on its circumference, and a huge common space in the middle.

"These are the quarters," said Brana, showing them around proudly. "These rooms on the outside are the bedrooms and inside is the area where you meet, eat, exercise, and study. There is a pool one floor down."

"It's amazing," said Claude, gazing around in wonder. "Which bedroom should I take?"

"Frankly Claude, we figured out a long time ago that when you put young, unmated Afflicted in a group setting, sleeping assignments don't make very much sense. Choose a room with an empty closet and wardrobe -- and then just let the pillows fall where they may...or whatever analogy seems fitting."

Claude had turned ashen. He looked down shamefaced at the lustful thoughts he had already felt for Brana -- let alone the smorgasbord she seemed to be describing. He took a deep breath and tried to gather himself. He felt like his body was betraying him, and Aimée.

"Claude, I'm sure your mother has said this too," Brana reassured him, "but it does get easier and the heart does mend. I promise. Now come along, we shall meet your new friends."

They stepped into the common area and, as it had with Aimée in her dorm, the activity stopped. A tall young man with shocking blonde hair and an infectious smile spoke the obvious as several of the girls made no attempt at hiding their admiration.

"Hey girls, fresh meat!" he said, laughing. "Not that I was worried about competition, but I've sure as hell got it now."

A petite girl with a big head of dark curly hair and an angelic smile pushed the blonde boy out of the way and crossed to Claude. She was dressed in a loose-fitting white corset and stockings, nothing more.

"Oh shut up Jacob. Can't you give someone a proper welcome?"

"Boys and Girls," said Brana, "I'd like you to meet Claude -- newly arrived from Morocco. And yes please, a proper welcome would be greatly appreciated."

"Hello Claude," said the girl. "I'm Hannah. Welcome to our little family...of sorts."

She reached up and wrapped both of her arms around his neck, hugged him and then kissing him tenderly on his cheek.

"Welcome, Claude," she whispered tenderly into his ear.

Claude was both touched -- and aroused -- by the lovely girl's greeting. It was obvious that her words were heartfelt, but the touch of her thinly clad body against him had his senses crying out for a more intimate sort of embrace. Claude had to put every ounce of concentration he had into offering his own greetings back to Hannah and the other girls who hugged him. . The other young men who were present stepped forward and offered friendly greetings to him as well.

"Claude, I leave you in good hands. Jacob, if you would come with us I'd like to have a few words."

A great 'ooh' went up and Jacob took it all in stride.

"That's right, that's right -- the Ghost is in trouble again! All hail the Ghost!"

Jacob and Claude followed Brana out to the circular hallway.

"Jacob, I'm putting you in charge of Claude. Show him around, take care of him, look after him. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, sure," said Jacob.

"Claude," said Brana. "Jacob will be a good guide, but also a good confidant. He was recently in...similar circumstances as yours."

Jacob's ears perked up at this and the wry grin he usually wore was transformed to a much more serious expression. It was clear Jacob could be all business if needed.

"I see," he said gently.

"Claude was on a Council transport in the middle of the Atlantic when he and his sister awakened."

"I understand," said Jacob, a pained expression crossing his space. "Well Claude, you and I will have a lot to talk about."

"Claude, I'm easy to reach," said Brana, giving him a hug before departing.

Once she closed the door, Claude breathed a sigh of relief to be out of a woman's presence for at least a short while -- though the girl's in the common room were already beckoning to his subconscious.

"So," said Jacob matter-of-factly, "you fucked your sister."

The blunt statement caught Claude entirely off guard. With all of the turmoil in his soul and the raging passions in his body Claude cried and lunged for Jacob -- but just like that the tall young man wasn't there.

"Easy there, Claudio," said Jacob's voice somewhere behind him.

"My name is Claude!" he screamed, turning to jump to the place where he'd heard Jacob. Nothing was there.

"Come on now, Claude, relax."

Claude leapt again to the source of the sound and was met with thin air once more. Now there was an arm wrapped around his neck, but he couldn't see Jacob. He struggled with all of his might but couldn't break free.

"Relax Claude, relax," whispered Jacob's voice in his ear. "I'm okay with you and your sister. Do you know why?"

"Why?" asked Claude through clenched teeth, still straining to break free.

"Because the same thing happened to me," Jacob said calmly.

Claude ceased struggling and the hand grasping him released him. He looked at where Jacob should have been standing and watched as Jacob slowly appeared where no one had been.

"Are you a deplaceur?" asked Claude.

"A jumper? No," said Jacob. "You know that silly old wives' tale about not being able to see a vampire's reflection?"

"Yes," said Claude.

"Well I'm the living example of it. I can turn invisible, hence my nickname 'Ghost'. My gift is pretty handy and also very rare. Only three people have ever had it, and one of them died two centuries ago.

Jacob faded in and out of vision.

"I see why they call you the Ghost," admitted Claude.
"Mm hmm," said Jacob. "Pretty handy, as far as gifts go."

"I'll say."

"Tell me Claude, a month on the ship -- did you get much exercise? Well, other than...you know."

"We did for a while," said Claude, "but the last week or so we were stuck below-decks."

"I find a nice bit of exercise always does wonders to clear the mind, don't you?" asked Jacob.

"Sure," agreed Claude.

"Come on then."

Claude kicked off his boots, which weren't the best thing for running, and the two of them began jogging around the great circular hallway -- which had been designed for that very thing.

"I'm guessing your story is a lot like ours," said Jacob, falling into a good pace while still having enough breath left for talking.

"Let me tell you the story about what happened to me and my sister Abby. We were in a beautiful village just outside of Quebec City. It was so isolated we thought we were untouchable. Maybe one of us grew careless. Maybe the black guard was just that good at finding people. Anyway, early last year the Black Guard attacked. You've never seen anything like it. What they lack in powers, they make up for in stealth and equipment. The worst thing they had were flash machines. Mechanical suns that lit up the night and blinded and crippled everyone in their path. My mother was a jumper and the first thing she did was grab my sister Abby and me and take us to a safe house. I mean safe. It was a room carved out of a mountain, and the tunnels to it had been collapsed so no one could even dream of getting in."

"Sounds safe all right," agreed Claude.

"Oh, it was. It was also fully provisioned with enough supplies for ten people to be there two years. It even had a powered ice box with frozen and chilled blood to keep us alive. The problem was, Mom winked out to get our father and never came back. Here we were, two non-Awakened kids with a cave full of food and no way of getting in touch with anyone. We kept each other sane, I guess. One month, then two months came and went."

"And then you Awakened," said Claude.

"Bingo," said Jacob. It was actually Abby who woke up first. I resisted her for a day, but she was so miserable I gave in. One kiss from her was all it took for me to wake up, too."

"How long were you there?" asked Claude, astounded.

"A month and a half," said Jacob, amazed. A month and a half we were fully awake and alone before a Council inspector stopped in on a routine round."

"And did you take each other as mates."

"Nope," said Jacob. "Luckily, Abby found a book in the safe house on Afflicted laws. Even more luckily, Abby's gift was especially useful in getting us through."

They picked up the pace and ran several laps more, each pushing the other in an unspoken race. Soon, Jacob slowed his pace and stopped, turning to face Claude.

"Listen, Claude -- I know where you're at. I could barely move for the first couple of days after we were rescued and they separated us. I was in love with my sister. I am in love with my sister, but I've had to move on. If you want to talk about it or not talk about it. I'm here."

"Thank you for that," said Claude, clasping Jacob's hand in his.

"Now, do you feel more clearheaded?"

"Yes."

"Do you feel horny?"

"Horny? That's not a word I'm familiar with."

"Randy? Aroused? Hungry for the ladies?"

"Oh. Not as much. At least not right now," said Claude, surprised.

"Running always helps," said the jovial young man. "But it only gets you so far."

"Thank you," said Claude, seriously. "Thanks for the advice on the running, and sharing your story. It means a great deal."

"No worries. I'm in room four right now if you need to talk any more. I'll leave you to yourself now."

Claude's clothing and belongs arrived. He sought out a vacant room with the idea that he would spend the first night alone. Once unpacked, he said a perfunctory goodnight to the other residents and went to his room to lay down.

As soon as he closed his eyes, visions of Aimée popped into his head and would not leave. All he could picture was her nude form and his mind went down the path of endless fantasies.

He ran.

As he ran he saw several lovely girls in the hallway who smiled warmly at him. He returned to his room and his mind dwelled on each of the tempting bodies he had passed on his circular jog.

He ran some more.

He pushed himself even harder until he could barely stand. He walked, sweaty into the common room and poured himself some cold water. Two couples were entwined on the couch and it was clear they were doing far more than kissing.

Claude ran even harder.

Every time he passed a Room 9, Hannah was there, standing at a door. She was wearing a plain cotton nightgown and she watched him with concern every time he passed.

He pushed himself as hard as he possibly could until he couldn't take one more step. He returned to his room, stripped off his soaking shirt and collapsed onto the bed in his room, his breath heaving. Yet, as soon as his heart rate began to slow the visions of women returned. Aimée, his mother, Brana, Sigrid, Hannah. He punched the pillow on the bed angrily, tears falling from his eyes.

A gentle knock came on the door. Claude opened the door and was not surprised to see that it was Hannah. She stepped into the room, closing the door behind her.

"Hannah, I..." stammered Claude, not sure what to say.

"Shh," she whispered, putting a soft finger to his lips. "There is a line from a great poet of the Afflicted. 'On the road and alone, I ask not for the gift of your heart. If you would but loan me your body, we will quench our night-borne fire and part as friends in the morning.'"

As she walked toward him she unlaced her nightgown. With the word 'morning', she let the gown fall from her shoulders to reveal her tiny, yet beautiful body. Though she was small, she was not slender. Her hips were rounded, her breasts were full and lovely globes on her chest. She was like a tiny China doll in a way...if they made anatomically correct China dolls.

She knelt before him and unlaced his breeches. She struggled a bit to pull to pull them down in their sweat-soaked state, but she eventually succeeded. Kneeling there before him, she was met with his very ready and willing member at eye level.

"Oh my, this will be fun," she said -- taking his ragingly swollen cock into her tiny hands.

She stroked his rigid cock, her tiny hands looking even smaller when trying to wrap around his more than ample shaft. She toyed with kissing it and licking it and then tried to stretch her tiny mouth around it.

"Nope," she said, giggling. "Don't want to get a case of lockjaw -- but I can think of better things to do with this."

She led him to the bed and laid down on her back, beckoning him to her. He placed his cock at her opening and she hissed with desire as he pushed his way into her. He worked perhaps half of his shaft in and then started back out again. Aimée had sometimes had trouble fitting all of his length into her, and she was several inches taller than this girl.

Hannah sensed his hesitation and reached around to pull his hips into her.

"Don't hold back, lover," she urged.

"But..."

"Don't worry," Hannah said in a lustful tone, "I can handle anything you've got to give me."

She pulled him toward her, nodding her head as he worked deeper and deeper in.

"Unnh," she moaned, her eyes practically rolling into the back of her head. "How perfect that is. You fill me up so good, my lover."

Her speaking voice had been high and cute, but she seemed to be the type who truly transformed in the bed. Gone were the high tones, replaced by a low husky rasp that urged Claude further and faster into her slippery chasm of lust.

"That's it, darling," she moaned, "lend me that beautiful body. Lend! It! Harder! Harrrdrrr! Oh my god!"

She shrieked in ecstasy and dug her nails into his back as a practically convulsive climax ripped through her body. Claude could feel the scratches from her fingernails but embraced the pain, knowing he would heal before they were even done.

"Don't. Stop. Don't. Stop," she begged him.

With a full day of waiting behind him, his body had no problem obeying her commands. As her orgasm subsided she kept urging him on with her body, but gave him silent signals to slow into a more sensuous pace.

"So good, Claude," she murmured. "You are so good. This is so good. It is what you need. Surrender to it. Surrender."

Her carnal yet soothing words triggered the release of the great reservoir of fluid waiting with him.

"Oh Aimée," he grunted unconsciously.

A lesser woman would have stopped at that moment -- but Hannah had gone to him for the purpose of comforting him. She simply smiled, taking it as a compliment that he would lose himself so much in their lovemaking that he would cry out another lover's name.

"Yes, that's it Claude. Oh, it's so hot," she gasped as the first gush streamed into her. "Oh Claude! Oh... my goodness."

She couldn't stop herself from laughing at the copious quantities which were already spilling out of her. Her laugh was infectious and Claude began laughing with her, even as he was still in the throes of the waves and spurts that continued.

"Ha ha, you really are a stallion, aren't you my new friend?" she giggled.

"It has been happening more and more the past week or so," said Claude, smiling. "And not just the amount but the number of... mon dieu her comes another one."

"Oh yes," she sighed, accepting his physical joy as her own. "Give it all to me, sweetheart. Then we'll rest and perhaps try it again."

* * * *

Abby slipped her way into Aimée's room and winced at the overwhelming emotion her new friend was broadcasting. Aimée was lying on the bed and crying. She had been sobbing before Abby arrived..

She had promised to return after doing a special favor.

"Well, the favor is all taken care of," she said, trying to set a light tone.

"What was the favor?" asked Aimée, wiping her eyes.

"You see," said Abby, "my gift is that I'm an empath. I can both feel other's emotions and magnify them as well. I owed Christopher a favor so he asked that I help 'enhance' his lovemaking tonight with Rosa. It was...pleasant for all involved, if I do say so myself -- and I can say so since I was one of those involved."

"An empath?" inquired Aimée. "So you feel what other people feel."

"In a way, yes. 'Empath' is the best label they could put on my gift. I can feel what other's feel on both a physical and emotional level. I can also look further in to their bodies and minds. I'm already apprenticing as a physician, since my skills are particularly suited toward healing."

"Can you read minds then?" asked Aimée.

"Yes," said Abby, matter-of-factly, "I can read minds, emotions, feelings, sensations, all of it."

"How amazing," said Aimée.

"For example, I know that you are listening to me, but you are also distracted by thoughts of the boys you've met in the dorm and what you might do with them. You are also saddened because you feel like you are betraying your brother... Claude is his name, yes?"

Aimée looked down, ashamed.

"Yes," said Aimée. "I feel like such a slut."

"Aimée, I understand your troubles," said Abby. "I really do, but you must know that another partner is inevitable."

"I know! I know!" cried Aimée angrily. "Everyone keeps telling me that, but I'm not ready. I will never be ready. Plus, I'm so embarrassed. I just know that everyone is staring at me, talking behind my back and pointing 'There's the girl who fucked her brother. Such a whore, she can't even wait a few weeks to avoid incest.'

"Oh Aimée," said Abby, kindly. "You know that the Afflicted has much different views. All of our kind understand the desperate lust we are cursed with. And, if it makes you feel any better, at least when you're with me they'll be pointing at both of us."

Aimée looked to her new friend in surprise.

"You?"

"Mm hmm," said Abby.

"Which one is your brother?"

"He's in the other dorm, just like yours. It was just as heartbreaking for me to be separated from him. Come here."

Sitting next to her on the bed, Abby put a comforting arm around Aimée's shoulders and let her rest there.

The simple physical contact with another Afflicted had calming qualities of its own, but Abby added a little extra with her empath gifts that helped at to soothe the most extreme emotions of grief and loss that were surging through Aimée's hyper-sensitized mind and body.

"Aimée," said Abby, a look of deep contemplation on her countenance. "I think I have an idea. Your biggest barrier is getting past the idea of sleeping with another man, yes?"

"Yes," said Aimée softly.

"What if I could help you almost sleep with someone else without actually doing it?"

"What? Like pleasing myself while he did the same? I don't see how that would necessarily help."

"Hmm, not a bad idea," said Abby. "But I have something else in mind. Aimée, do you trust me?"

"Of course," said Aimée. "I know we just met today -- but I'd trust you with my life."

"Good," said Abby. "Because what I'd like to do involves a lot of comfort and trust. Do this, take off your clothes and lay back on your bed."

"Very well," said Aimée hesitantly.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to tie you down and bring a young man in here. Relax."

Aimée did as she was asked and was surprised to see Abby also disrobing.

"To be clear," explained Abby, "I'm also not going to personally tie you up and ravish you. Aimée, I've been given a very rare gift and they tell me it is more powerful than most who are blessed with psychic gifts."

"How to explain this," Abby mused, "I know. Just relax and clear your mind as much as you can."

Aimée did and found herself quickly falling into what felt like a daydream, but much, much more real.

She was a little girl and it appeared to be Christmas. There was snow on the ground and the shop windows sparkled on a beautiful snowy night. She looked at herself in the shop window -- but it wasn't her reflection but a young girl with curly red hair who could easily be Abby in her youth.

"I just love Christmas," said Abby, pulling Aimée out of her reverie.

"How did you...did you... wow!" exclaimed Aimée, "That was amazing. Did you put that in my head?"

"I think a better way of putting it is I allowed you to share it -- but it ended up in your head all the same. Now let me ask you -- how did the evening smell? What were the sounds like?

"I -- I don't know," said Aimée. "I can't remember any of that. I simply recall the sight of it."

"Yes, now try this -- "

The lovely redhead then slid onto the bed and straddled Aimée, their two pelvises coming together in a frank yet surprisingly nonchalant manner. She took Aimée's hands in hers, then --

Aimée was back in the village. There were bells ringing in a distant church. Carolers were singing a lovely French song. The snow felt crisp and sweet on her face. Chestnuts were being cooked somewhere nearby and a man was holding a cup of mulled wine just a few feet away and it smelled delicious.

Oh!" cried Aimée, laughing. "Oh! How did you do that? Take me back! I want to go there again."

"Perhaps we'll go again sometime," Abby said, smiling. "As to how I did it -- it was through your nervous system. Because I was touching you at our hips and your hands, it allowed me to share every one of the senses that I recall from that lovely day. The more contact I have with you, the easier it is for me to transfer sense memories and give you a more complete experience."

"I see, but how does that help me with sleeping with men?" asked Aimée.

"Patience, my lovely," explained the empath. "It will soon become clear. It is time to go to a different address on memory lane."

She leaned forward and then lay across Aimée's body so that every possible inch of skin was touching: Their legs; their hips; their breasts. Abby pushed back on Aimée's arms so that even every bit of their arms was in contact.

Aimée felt a lovely drowsy feeling washing over her. The hair on the back of her neck stood up.

"Oh goodness that feels good," she moaned.

"Just my Affliction reaching out to say 'hi' to yours," said Abby. "To ease into this, why don't you tell me about Claude?"

Abby lowered her head down and kissed Aimée tenderly.

"But how do I tell you if...am I talking to you right now?"

"More than talking," said Abby's voice in Aimée's consciousness. "I use the kiss because there are so many receptors in the lips. This will be an intense experience. Now, tell me about Claude."

"Well, we were always fighting and competitive before..."

Aimée needed only speak a few words and Abby followed the trail of that memory and they were soon lost in Aimée's memories of her life. Abby whisked through Aimée's childhood and early teen years and then zoomed to the time on the Siren while crossing the Atlantic. Abby seemed particularly interested in the moment when Claude first awakened. As she dug gently into Aimée's mind, it wasn't just a memory, but as close to real as it could get. The strong emotions washed through both of them, but Abby still lingered -- focusing in on every physical and emotional sensation of when Claude embraced Aimée in the ocean.

Once satisfied with that memory, she leapt forward and began sifting through the various times to follow. Aimée could actually feel Abby's excitement upon the discovery that Aimée could deplace. Next, Abby sorted through the lovemaking memories. Surprisingly, it wasn't the extreme sessions like the lovemaking in the clouds or when Frederique had pleasured Aimée that Abby lingered on. It was one particularly quiet and peaceful time that Abby chose to relive. For some reason, that time had always stood out in Aimée's mind as well so she did not mind Abby reliving the entire session.

Suddenly, she was there, reliving the entire thing, but curiously it was as though Abby were there with her.

Claude had been so gentle, so strong in that union, keeping a slow and steady pace with the occasional deep thrust to keep her off her guard. Aimée's orgasm was slow and intense that time and she gasped once again as the bliss surged through her causing her to moan in ecstasy and also cry from pure joy. Claude had wept then, too.

Aimée suddenly awoke and found she was back with Abby. Abby's lips were still pressed to hers and her naked form was atop her.

Abby's tears were falling on Aimée's face, merging with her own.

"You and Claude are so beautiful together," Abby said, smiling. "So very, very beautiful."

"Thank you, Abby," said Aimée, the emotion still fresh in her mind. "That was almost as good as being with him. Now, I showed you mine, you show me yours."

"Very well."

"How long did that take?" asked Aimée. "How long were we reliving those memories?"

"Perhaps fifteen minutes at the most," said Abby.

"Perhaps a change in position is in order," suggested Aimée. "I am a bit stiff. Not that you're heavy -- but we've been a while like that and my body can feel it."

"Of course," agreed Abby.

Abby rolled off of Aimée and onto her back, allowing Aimée to roll on top. Aimée's thigh slipped between Abby's legs and she felt the moist heat which had built up from reliving the lovemaking memory. Of course, Abby felt the same thing from her and they exchanged knowing grins. Aimée stretched her legs over Abby's. Their arms touched and their breasts pushed against each other warmly -- their soft orbs finding a way to nestle in the same space, squished between their two bodies in a way that would have made any man watching hard instantly. Finally, Aimée reached down to kiss her knew friend and lost herself again in the empath's overwhelming consciousness.
"Jacob and I didn't fight too much as children," began Abby, "but we also weren't close..."

Aimée was swept into memories of Abby's childhood in the small northern Canadian town where summers were spent mostly below ground, but in lavish and expansive Afflicted dwellings where an entire other town existed below the surface. She saw winters, when days had less than a few hours of sunlight. There had been magical times of sledding, skating and breathing in endless fresh air. As Abby had said, Jacob was there, but always at a distance. Still, Abby watched the goofy young boy grow from a cherub faced youth to a gangly teen, to a captivating towheaded young man who wasn't necessarily the most handsome but he possessed a magnetism that drew one's eyes to him as soon as he entered a room.

Aimée could sense that Jacob was annoying to Abby. Abby resented that Jacob was never serious and never studied but he still excelled in their little school. He was athletic while she was studious. Strangely, the memories of Canada were blurry through Abby's eyes and grew more so as time went by. The memories near the end were almost all sounds, the visions coming from those times were like looking at something under water without goggles... and deep, deep below the surface of the water where little light could reach.

Then came the attack: yelling; screaming'; horrible explosions and bright lights seeping through the cracks in a door, ready to destroy them.

And then -- the rock. The safe haven carved in the middle of a high mountain in the Pyrenees -- inaccessible to anyone from the outside world. It was only Jacob and Abby. Nobody else came and their mother did not return. Aimée could feel Abby wondering... in the deepening darkness, if their 'safe' house might become their mountain tomb.

Aimée quickly relived the initial months of despair and then felt the longings begin in Abby's body when she awakened. Abby had been strong and gone almost three days before seducing Jacob.

Interestingly, when they visited the memories surrounding Abby's awakening, Aimée noticed that things were more clear once again. The vision in the memories had been dark and murky, but at a certain point they became clear again. One odd thing, though. The vision seemed to always be looking at Abby, as if she was looking into a mirror or something.

While Aimée and Claude had been stuck for a few weeks aboard the ship, it had been months for Abby and Jacob. This translated into months of sensuous lovemaking. Hours-long sessions, even day-long sessions where Jacob stayed inside of Abby all day and they even fell asleep with his cock still nestled within her.

Remarkably, they did not take one another as bloodmates. Abby's remarkable ability somehow allowed her to commune with the Affliction itself. Though it hungered, it was as though the empath could talk to the symbiote inside their bodies and let it know it wasn't yet time for a bloodmate. Her communion with the Afflicted cells did nothing to quench the overwhelming desire, but it did check the animal instincts and let them somehow resist drinking one another's blood.

Abby had never been the most athletic sort, but in the time together in the safe house, she had learned to be -- and all through sexual means. Her thighs had become stronger through straddling him with her feet on his floor and lifting herself up and down on his beautiful cock. Her arms had become stronger from grasping his neck while he held her and they made love standing up.

When they were not making love, she was exercising, readying her body for him. Every waking and every dreaming moment was about sex. She and Jacob had found a book of erotic poetry and learned the words they had only heard muttered by adults when they thought no one was listening. Cunt was her favorite. She loved exercising her cunt. She would squeeze it tight when she was alone to improve the tone...and she would squeeze it even tighter when it was wrapped around Jacob.

Their sessions had grown longer and longer. Jacob's volume had grown greater and his recovery time shorter. They would often collapse, exhausted, only to find their bodies urging them back into action before their hearts had even ceased racing.

Suddenly, they zoomed in on one specific time that Abby and Jacob had had sex. Before, they'd been leafing through the memories like one might through a picture book. Now, they were right there, in the moment.

Abby had been toying with Jacob all morning. The day before, they had made love for nine solid hours. Today, she wanted to wait as long as she could.

It wasn't easy. Not for her, and not for Jacob either.

They were reading a book, a journal to be exact. She was seated in Jacob's lap, wearing a short dress she'd found in the clothing supply (with nothing on beneath it). She could feel his erection pressing against her, but that was nothing new. He was practically always erect.

The journal was... spicy, to say the least. They'd found it not three days before. It was a woman's journal, a woman who had been left in this same safe house a century before. It had been her, one other woman, and five men. Jacob and Abby had learned many, many lessons and many words as well. My, how this woman had liked the word 'fuck'... and she and Jacob were both still somewhat shocked at the roughness of the sex she described. At one point the woman (named Jorie) had taken on two men at once, while a third man had 'throat-fucked' her in her own words. Also in the mix, had been Jorie's brother. They were not mates, but since they were trapped there without their own bloodmates, they took advantage of the situation to try what they'd always wanted to.

She and Jacob were reading a passage about Jorie having what sounded like an hour-long orgasm. She felt his hand snake around to caress her breast.

"Let's wait just a little longer, Jake," she murmured, though her hardening nipples argued against her reluctance.

"No," said Jacob. He spoke in a deep, lusty, insistent tone that stirred her in surprising ways. "I want you now. I'll take you now, whether you like it or not."

He lifted her up and before she knew it she'd been thrown across the arm of the leather couch, her dress lifted, and her legs spread.

"Mmmm... very well, my insistent brother," she moaned. "Are you ready to make your sister your whore?"

She loved that word... especially when she used it with him. It was so nasty, so naughty.

"Yes," growled Jacob. "Do you like that, my slut? Do you like the feel of me inside of you?"

As he spoke, he was pushing his manhood into her, opening her labia as her hungry pussy swallowed his rock hard cock.

"I would," she moaned. "If you were doing it harder. Is that all you've got?"

"I'll show you what I've got."

Though she didn't have much to compare it to, she knew that Jacob was long. Though he wasn't thick, every time he entered her... especially the first time... it felt like his long, slick pole was never going to stop gliding into her. When it finally did, she groaned as he pushed against her cervix and it seemed he would split her open.

It started slowly, but the pace picked up quickly and soon he was making her shudder with each slam. She pulled her dress up over her head and her breasts were soon bobbing beneath her as each impact sent ripples throughout her entire body.

She could sense he was getting close.

"Now, Jacob," she said. "Cum inside your sister. Make me your whore completely."

"Oh Abby!" shouted Jacob in a strangled cry.

"Yes, my love," she called back over her shoulder. "Pour yourself into me. Don't hold back."

He did with the stunning volume of a 'stallion'. After the first burst he pulled out, knowing from experience that there would be too much if he stayed inside of her. His next jet sprayed out over her back, gushing forth across the small of her back and up to her shoulder blades in a veritable wave of cum. With his rod slickened by their juices, he stayed there between her cheeks and worked himself feverishly, unleashing a third and stunning wave. As he twitched there, Abby felt a strange excitement as he rubbed against her other opening. He was about to pull away when she reached back and took his hand.

"No," Abby growled. "You aren't done yet. Like this," she held his softening cock against her tiny, tight forbidden opening and felt his lovely shaft spring instantly back to life from the excitement.

They had somehow not gotten around to making love this way yet, but the carnal force in her soul demanded more. It hungered for yet another way of being fed.

He pushed slowly and his slickened knob popped in the first inch easily.

It hurt. It hurt so much but she gasped in pleasure, needing this added sensation desperately.

"More," she begged him, and he pushed another inch.

"Oh god!" she cried and he stopped out of concern.

"Abby," Jacob moaned, "We shouldn't..."

"Don't you dare stop, you bastard," she growled in a guttural tone.

"But..."

She put an end to his argument by thrusting backward into his cock and taking the full length into her in one movement. The burning of her flesh was both excruciating and exhilarating. Though it hurt, she could already feel the Affliction healing her tightest canal and strengthening that part of her body so it was more than ready for the taboo fuck she longed for.

The excitement of the forbidden overwhelmed Jacob within moments and he was soon pounding into her ass with rapid thrusts. She met each thrust with even greater force and her ass was red from being spanked by his hips.

She lost herself then, allowing him to pummel away a she took part of her consciousness away and reached into their bodies. When she'd contemplated anal sex, she had speculated on whether it would take her own hand between her legs in order to climax. She didn't need to wonder any more. Being fucked in this fashion brought a different sort of bliss, a more animal and base pleasure.

There was something building and her instincts told her the only way to achieve it was to keep going, to not pause or stop until whatever it was arrived. She willed Jacob's body to more strength. His cock in her ass was no longer foreign, but a beautiful, bestial thing that pushed her even further into oblivion.

"Oh Abby!" cried out Jacob, his hips bucking and his entire body stiffening. If her interior had been burning from friction and torn flesh, it was now fiery from the hot cum he was shooting into her.

That was the thing he had been awaiting.

"Now Jacob! Fuck my ass! Fill me up! Shoot your cum into me, but don't stop!"

Jacob's cock and hips became a blur of motion as he shot hot streams of creamy goo into her innermost recesses. She felt a cry beginning somewhere in the base of her brain. "Aaaiiiiiiaaahhhh!!" she screamed, pulling rapidly off of his cock and falling against the leather of the contraption. It was joy. It was raw bliss. It was something more! The heavenly pleasure made her body convulse with uncontrollable pleasure.

She was hungry.

They had gone too far. She knew it. She had one thing on her mind. She wanted to turn and rip out her mate's neck with her teeth and suck his life into her AND let him do the same so they could merge as bloodmates. There was one conscious thread left in her brain, one tiny area that knew she could not surrender to this need. She bit down on the leather of the couch kept her teeth there, growling with angry lust as the orgasm/lust swept through her. Better to bite the couch than her brother's neck and break the Council laws.

Jacob did not understand. He tried to come up behind her and comfort her. His hips pressed against her ass.

"Get away," she growled, momentarily taking her mouth off of the leather.

"But," started her brother.

"It's just...too much," she tried to explain. "Stay back and let me...let me finish."

Jacob looked down helplessly as the spasms continued to rock her body. Abby gasped and moaned for several minutes, caught in divine conflict. Part of her welcomed the seismic shocks of pleasure rocking her body, while a small part of her mind continued fighting the bloodthirsty hunger that the orgasms were pushing her toward.

After several minutes of this, she finally began to calm and looked up at her brother who had sat down to watch her. She was somehow able to get control of herself again.

"That was amazing," said Jacob, bending down to kiss her.

"That's one word for it," said Abby, wiping the sweat from her face.

Speaking of sweat, Aimée's eyes fluttered and she had to shake herself to remember where she was. Her body was coated with perspiration, as was Abby's. Their two bodies slid against each other as Abby's eyes opened and she gasped at the intensity of the memory they'd just relived

"Oh my," said Aimée, sliding off of Abby, but still staying wrapped around the stunningly sexual redhead.

Aimée realized something... she was calm and satisfied. Because she had been in physical contact with another one of their kind, AND because the sex had been 'real' in terms of how her system reacted to the memory brought to life of Abby fucking her brother. Aimée was no longer longing to find one of the boys in the dorm. Her needs were satiated.

"Oh my, indeed," whispered Abby, leaning over to give a soft, passionate kiss to Aimée as a way of sealing the intimate experience they had just shared.

"Abby," that's some gift you have," whispered Aimée. "I feel like...I feel like you're my sister. More than my sister. How can I ever thank you for that."

"Aimée, dear, it was a gift for me, too. Besides, when I met you I just knew -- I knew we were meant to be friends - intimate friends."

"Do you do this with everyone?"

"Goodness no," said Abby, giggling. "I'll share the Christmas scene or a something like that as a party trick, but I would never share such memories with just anyone. What kind of a slut do you think I am?"

"A very talented one," laughed Aimée. "But tell me Abby, why did you go so far with me."

"Isn't that obvious? Like I said at the beginning, I wanted to let you almost sleep with a man. What do you think?"

"Oh my god!" exclaimed Aimée, sitting up in bed, her eyes going wide. "It took you saying that for me to realize it wasn't me who fucked Jacob... I mean, to put it more properly, that it wasn't me who had made love to Jacob."

"Who is the slut now, Aimée?" said Abby teasingly. "Look at you, a mouth like a sailor, lying naked with another woman while you relive sexual memories."

"Well, I..." Aimée stammered, too embarrassed to even finish what she was saying.

"Don't worry about it -- and trust me, Jacob and I made love a lot, but we fucked a lot more."

They fell back onto the bed, wrapped around each other and enjoying the simple intimacy of each other's company.

"Abby, I do have one question. When I was 'with' you, I kept feeling things through you -- but I saw things through Jacob's eyes."

"Didn't you know?" asked Abby, stroking her hand tenderly through Abby's hair.

"Know what?"

"Aimée dear, I'm blind. I never had very good vision and it faded more and more as I grew older. By the time my gift arrived I had lost almost all of my vision. To me, the world is simply a blur of light and darkness -- which is mostly dark given this dim world that our kind lives in."

"But how..."

"I'm an empath -- I simply borrow other people's eyes to get me around. It's not a problem as long as there is a sighted person with me. However, put me in an empty room and I'm a bull in a China shop."

"So, right now you're..."

"Yes, I'm looking through your eyes. I look quite lovely, by the way, my hair all tussled and my cheeks all aglow."

Aimée took that in and was about to drift off to sleep, but had to say one more thing.

"Abby?"

"Yes, Aimée?"

"I do know one thing," said Aimée, yawning. "I want to meet your brother."

"I want to meet yours, too," said the blind empath. "Now, one more thing I need to show you."

Then, Abby sent a sort of montage of images and memories of Abby sleeping with the other boys in the dorm. She also communicated the emotions she had gone through.

Through this, Aimée also took the journey of emotions that Abby had gone through. She was able to feel how Abby had gone through the same turmoil and sense of betrayal when she had finally succumbed the lust which built up in her body.

Aimée saw how Abby was now lovers with many young men, but her heart was still set aside, still waiting for Jacob to return... or for the mate who might be waiting in the wings.

"You see," said Abby. "It doesn't necessarily get better, but it does get easier... if that makes sense."

"It does," said Aimée as she stifled a yawn.

She still felt the ache in her heart for Claude, and what Abby had shown her provided her odd comfort. She saw that you could be true to your heart while still satiating the sexual hungers of an Afflicted body.

With that, they drifted off to sleep.






CHAPTER 7



Frederique watched her children leave and wiped away more than a few tears.

She and Palo were preparing to find the bank and take care of their temporary housing plans when Sigrid returned from a brief absence.

"Mr. and Mrs. Dujobe, I was sent word that your quarters are ready. It would be my honor to escort you there right away"

Palo shot Frederique a questioning look. They had not put in a formal request, and they had more to do -- but there was subtext in Sigrid's tone that said this was not merely an offer, but something she would insist upon. Frederique gave a gentle nod to Sigrid that they understood.

The tall blonde held a finger to her lips as she took them into a very small office, very small. It was confusing as to what they were doing there until she pulled a lever on the wall which opened a hatch in the ceiling of the office.

"The tubes are small," she whispered, "but they can be navigated easily enough once you are used to them."

Sigrid sailed up into the hole in the ceiling, followed by Palo and then Frederique. They ascended rapidly and Frederique heard a click behind her as the hatch they had passed through closed again.

The flight was disorienting for both of them and they knew they would never find their way back again if they were to lose Sigrid.

They made turn after turn, all of them able flyers and Sigrid leading the way with confidence. Perhaps ten minutes later, they slowed outside a small section of tunnel near an intersection. Removing a key from a pocket, Sigrid opened a hidden hatch which led to another tunnel. The tunnels they had been in had been plain and simply functional.

This was no rough-hewn stone conduit, but a beautifully tiled tube which stretched for miles. Sigrid flew off in what they were to later learn was a northerly direction. After five minutes of rapid flight, they arrived at a widened area that had an ornate, gold-inlaid door. Sigrid took out the same key she had used to enter the tunnel and let them in -- scanning the corridor once more before closing the door.

The interior was no less opulent. They found themselves in a grand, arched corridor which seemed to borrow from every architectural style in an elegant way.

Once inside, Sigrid breathed a sigh of relief.
"My friends -- I will admit that I am probably being overly cautious, but I want to take no chances with your safety."

"Our safety in regard to what?" asked Palo, growing more frustrated by the minute.

"We have certainly been having share of troubles with the Black Guard of late -- but the more I thought about it, the more it concerned me that they knew of your ship so well, given the fact that Frederique was upon it. It struck me as odd that no Council representative or guard was there to meet you. Regardless of whether the harbor envoy was waylaid -- someone of your stature should have been greeted upon her arrival. I looked into it, and discovered that the message of your arrival had been altered to say you weren't due for another day. It was just luck that a detail-oriented harbor watcher noticed the Siren and alerted some people."

"Her stature..." said Palo, in a growing state of confusion over the obvious notoriety of his beautiful wife. "Frederique, what is it you did. People bowing to you, offering their necks... Why have I not been told of what it is you did?"

"He still doesn't know?" asked a surprised Sigrid.

"Not very much, no," said Frederique. "But I realize it is time. I will tell you as soon as our dear Sigrid here has shown us around this lovely place. Trust me Palo, I will tell all."

She placed a soothing hand on her husband's muscular arm.

"My other duties revolve around the property office," said Sigrid. "This place currently belongs to members of the Verplanck family, one of New York's founding dynasties. However, it hasn't been occupied for nearly ten years as there are very few who can afford it. The only people to visit it are the workers who check in on it every month or so for routine maintenance. This was just done. That means we are in a very safe place for quite some time. There will be more than satisfactory emergency provisions in the kitchen, and everything else should be in proper order."

"Since your envoy in the harbor was obviously compromised, it is likely that only Reykjavik is fully aware of your situation."

"Reykjavik?" inquired Frederique.

"Yes, after the Tacito affair, security was raised. The Council center was moved from Copenhagen to Iceland. You can imagine it keeps the deplaceurs busy -- but it also means security is higher than it's ever been. Speaking of security, let me show you around this place."

She crossed to a panel where there were several brass gauges and levers.

"This," she explained, pushing one lever up. "Is a jumper alert. To my knowledge, there are only three other residences equipped with such a system. Should anyone attempt to deplace into any part of this complex -- an alarm will sound and mesh nets with gold fibers will shoot straight for the location of the intruder. The doors are impregnable; the air is internally refreshed and filtered."

"Impressive," said Frederique. "With such security, is there a safe room?"

"There certainly is, great lady," said Sigrid. "If you will follow me."

She led them down the hall past a huge library and an opulent parlor. From there, they proceeded past a stunning statue that seemed to be a mixture of glass and marble, brass and glittering steel. The craftsmanship was truly amazing, but the subject was even more of a surprise. The statue was of a flying woman, her sword outstretched before her. The beauty of its lines and the figure was clear from a distance. As they drew closer, the beauty and the subject of the piece was surprising. It was Frederique. The look on her face was the most amazing. Somehow the artist had captured countless emotions in one frozen moment. There was a grim look of determination on the face of the Frederique in the statue. There was also anger in the depiction, yet a single tear flowed from her right eye as she aimed her sword at some grim destination.

"Ironic, isn't it?' said Sigrid, "that this statue should be the key to the safe room I'm about to show you?"

Frederique was overwhelmed at the sculpture. As for Palo, he looked at his wife and was more confused than ever.

Sigrid reached up and touched two fingers to the lips of the statue. This caused a soft rolling sound and revealed a hole in the wall -- which was more than two feet thick.

"Come in," she urged.

The safe room seemed like a plain room of perhaps twenty feet on each side and the same in height. However, when Sigrid pulled the lever to seal it shut again, an entirely different world appeared. The walls, the ceiling, and even the floor started scintillating with different colors and patterns.

"Magnifique," gasped Frederique. "What a marvelous invention."

"It was based on a note found in one of your first husband's old notebooks," said Sigrid. "It is one thing to keep the location of a room secret so no Jumper can ever find it. It is quite another to make the room so it never exists as the same thing for more than a few seconds."

"My dear Christophe," said Frederique. "Such a wonderful mind he had."

Palo had grown even more contemplative and almost surly. They stepped back out of the safe room and Sigrid walked with them back to the entrance, bidding them to seal the door and activate the alarms until someone from the Council arrived.

"Oh, and one other thing," she said, coyly. "Enjoy the gymnasium."

Upon saying that, she stepped out and closed the door.

"Well? Should we look around?" said Frederique, smiling. "It's such a nice place. Palo, what's wrong?"

Palo paced about -- then finally gathered his wits and took Frederique's hand and led her to a divan in the parlor. They sat, side by side, and as Palo spoke he stared straight forward, not meeting her eyes.

"When we first met, decades ago, I saw you and thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world. I still do. When you chose me as your mate and I learned of the Affliction -- even with my misgivings about taking on this curse of the moon -- I had no choice even then. I would have done anything to be with you. "

"In the early times, I knew you bore some sort of grief in your heart and some sort of secret. When the council delegate arrived to approve me becoming one of you, he was very tight-lipped about you and your past. Always I thought that sometime, someday you would tell me of your past. Yet, the years rolled by and it simply became our life; our wonderful, lovely life with our children. Now, in the course of a month all of it has been entirely changed. Our children are lovers. Our simple home is forgotten. Now, the worst of all is you."

"Why am I the worst?" said Frederique.

"My father always said something," continued Palo, tears forming in his own eyes. "He always said there are two ways to lie. One, is to tell something that is untrue. The other, is to leave the important bits out. That's what you have done to me, Frederique. You have left every important bit out. I have lived the equivalent of an entire mortal lifetime with you and I know nothing about you. You are royalty, as far as I can tell. You are a heroine of a war I know nothing about. I am not threatened or worried by any of your fame or your achievements. I have always known you are a great lady. What I can't believe is that would keep so much from me. If you are keeping so many huge things from me, what else might you be hiding?"

He had finally turned to face her and his heart went out for her at the tears she was shedding.

"Oh Palo," she whispered. "You are right. It was not fair of me to hide so much. At first I didn't tell you because I wanted to protect you. I had planned on telling you everything before we left Morocco. Then the orders came so suddenly for our move that I thought I would wait for the ship. Then, aboard the ship, Claude and Aimée occupied my every thought. But it is time. You are right. You need to know your wife. I promise you one thing; the most important thing. This..." and with that she placed his hand over her heart. "This belongs to you."

"Very well," said Palo, tenderly kissing her. "I look forward to learning more about the great Frederique La Teilière."

"Frederique Dujobe," she said tenderly. "Frederique who looks forward to exploring this fascinating house with her 'Dark-Skinned Adonis', as Sigrid put it so eloquently. Frederique, who looks forward to telling him anything and everything she has been keeping from him."

* * * *

The homes of the Afflicted, the 'belows' as the homes were sometimes called, were fascinating reflections of the unique traits of the species. Lives that can last centuries allow for more luxury in certain areas. Libraries were highly valued, the Afflicted were almost all keen scholars. Further, they certainly gained an appreciation of the finer things. The kitchens and wine cellars were usually provisioned with top-shelf items.

Physically, there was not merely a hunger for sexual outlets. Exercise in general was of great importance. Swimming pools provided a great opportunity for concentrated exercise in a small amount of space so pools, large or small were a recurrent theme in most belows.

There were individual tastes like the arts, such as sculpture or painting. Technology was very popular. Many of mankind's great inventions were often created by the Afflicted first and then 'leaked' to the public via way of a third-party, or by clever guidance and suggestions to human inventors. Science was also a particular specialty, especially in the medical realm.

Of course, there was sex. The Afflicted were blessed with superhuman physiques and gifts. The Affliction also cursed (or blessed) its kind with a superhuman hunger for physical intimacy. Without the daily dose of a few drops of blood and a much larger 'serving' of sexual relief, the Affliction would cause one to grow morose and the more dangerous instincts would rise to the surface.

Frederique and Palo wandered through their temporary home. They looked about in wonder at the opulence. This dwelling was a stunning example of a below constructed with New World wealth.

The kitchen was a palace in of itself. The grand dining room could seat at least fifty and had likely hosted some amazing parties over the years. The library was massive and stocked with volumes and even scrolls in every language.

"Why would they leave their books?" Palo asked as he perused the thousands of titles.

"It's not unusual among our kind," said Frederique. "You see, when you have decades to read a favorite book, you will commit it to memory eventually. Also, since our collections are so rare, if we don't sell it to others among the Afflicted, we will raise troublesome questions if we try to sell them to mortal book dealers."

"Here," said Palo, who had crossed to a writing desk. "Here is the answer, and it is just as you said."

He lifted a note and read it.

"To our lovely home's new occupants: We have decided to give California a try with new names and all that goes with it. We have taken a few of our most prized possessions, but felt an entirely new start was in order. We will miss our library the most -- so if you don't mind, we might come to call now and again when we are in town. Our very best, the Verplancks."

"P.S. We wish you many happy times in the gymnasium."

The gymnasium?" inquired Palo. "Why should they also mention that?"

"I think we'll just have to go and find out," said Frederique.

They wandered past several well-appointed bedrooms with beds large enough to accommodate at least two lovers. They saw a bathroom with a tub that might as well have been a swimming pool. At last they came to an open door that led to a huge room that seemed it could be used as an indoor tennis court, a fencing room, a ballet studio, or anything one would wish to do on smooth wooden floor.

"It seems nice, I suppose," said Palo, "but..."

"Dear, look up," said Frederique.

The door leading into the room that was open had a sign above it which read 'exercise room'.

However, a door right next to it, which was closed, read 'Gymnasium.'

Frederique and Palo stepped up to the door curiously and opened it.

"Oh my word," muttered Palo, glancing into a room which was perhaps twice again as large as the exercise room.

Heat wafted out at them -- and the reason for the temperature was immediately clear. This was not a room where one was meant to wear clothing.

Frederique instantly understood and began disrobing immediately.

"Well?" she said, winking at Palo, "do you need me to spell it out?"

Palo followed suit and they were soon entering the gymnasium -- stepping into a world which few can imagine.

The floor was padded in a soft, silky fabric. It appeared to be upholstered in large squares so that any single meter-wide square could be replaced with ease. (In fact, they later found this to be exactly the case, a hidden closet held spare tiles which could quickly be swapped out -- though it was rarely necessary because the room was so large no one area got too much traffic... of any variety.)

There were swings with velvet ropes. There were raised mattresses...with velvet ropes and rings to attach restraints. There were ample alcoves in the walls -- some at ground level and some fifteen feet off the ground. Three beds were suspended high from the ceiling -- with no mechanism in sight to lower or raise them.

"They were obviously fliers," whispered Frederique, matter-of-factly. There was something about the room that made one whisper.

There were special chairs and benches, restraints and swings -- all of it with one and only one thing in mind.

Perhaps the two most fascinating elements of the room stood in the center. One, was a huge column of glass with metal ribbings, within which was clear, warm water. It seemed the only way to access it was via the top. Its purpose confused them until Palo spied small tubes along the sides for one to breathe indefinitely below the surface -- and in full view of whoever might be in the room.

The other was a somewhat lifelike automaton, with one very lifelike appendage. Frederique appraised the life-sized robotic invention it with an expert's eye. Even the relatively staid Palo couldn't help but find the machine full of fascinating potential -- his fascination with the possibilities quickly became evident -- visibly so.

"Frederique reached down and took him by that very same evidence and kissed him gently.

"Some other time, yes?" she said. "Now, it is story time. Let's go up there."

They flew up to the highest cave for lack of a better word. It was clear that the Verplancks had invested a great deal of time, thought, and money into the Gymnasium. No doubt they had revised and improved it over the years. The large room was clearly meant for larger parties and those more prone to exhibitionist and group tendencies. These little love alcoves were fully provisioned with padded floors, a bench running around the entire wall, pillows, and a sheer curtain which could be left open or closed -- but even closed they allowed for a view to the larger room beyond.

"Sit," said Frederique, leading Palo to a place where he could lean his back against the wall. She knelt in front of him, but it took no more than three kisses and two licks to have him ready.

"Very good," she purred. "It is time for a story."

"While we make love?" asked a bemused Palo.

"We need this as well -- we might as well take care of two things at once."

She climbed up, straddling him on her knees, and slid his lovely, long tool inside. With one satisfied sigh, she settled there and began.

* * * *

"Once upon a time," Frederique said, quite simply. "There was a girl borne of two Afflicted parents. That girl was me. My mother was over a thousand years old and was the daughter of two of the first-bitten who had once lived on a tiny island in the Mediterranean. My mother lost her first husband in battle and in the year one-thousand thirty-five, married my father Georg La Teilière. He was one of the finest scientific minds the world has ever known. My mother was a flyer, but her true gift was that of warrior. She could shoot an arrow in strong wind, from any elevation, and find her mark up to a mile away given a great enough height. No one could cross swords with her and win. Long staff, quarter-staff -- put a weapon in my mother's hand and there was no one who could best her -- no one. Though we do not have royalty among the Afflicted, my parents were as close as one could imagine. They sat in various positions on the Council over their long lives and eventually settled in Paris where they decided to have children.

"Alphonse, my brother, was first, followed five years later by me. When Alphonse awakened, it was discovered that Alphonse's gift was the very rare and highly valued skill of empath. It was lucky he had been borne of such noble and gentle parents, because an empath's power can be used in frightening ways. When powerful enough, and Alphonse was, an empath can reach into the mind of anyone they wish and even control their minds and bodies.

"As for me, I was merely a flyer -- somewhat of a disappointment to my parents."

"After I awakened, I was enrolled at the Copenhagen Academy, the center of European education and government for the Afflicted at the time. Our class was a particularly promising one. Several of the Afflicted's great leaders emerged in the years to come who were part of my class.

"Our instructors were harsh, and they needed to be. Those were rough times with witch hunts still going on and the Black Guard just beginning to form. We needed to be tough and sharp, and we were.

"We also needed each other. I have no shame in saying I broke many hearts while I was there, Palo. I was ravenous for companionship. I slept with nearly every member of our class, often more than one at a time. I felt that it was my duty to welcome any new boys to the Academy in the proper way. Let's just say that in my five years I had a great deal of fun.

"I should mention that there was one student who I never shared myself with. His name was Tacito Fernandez and he was descended from Spanish nobility. His name didn't really matter, because we all simply called him the Weasel.

"The Weasel was by far the most unattractive man I have ever met. When I say unattractive, I don't mean physically. He was slim and of average hight. I suppose he was all right from a pure physical perspective, but once you met him his looks were quickly forgotten.

"None of the girls liked him. He tried seducing so many, but finally ended up settling on two of our class who were the most like him. There was Sanchia, a girl who had come from a poor family in Spain and was attracted by his mortal titles. The other girl was Kuzma, a Russian girl who the boys also couldn't stand. The three of them were among the few who stayed with regular partners, though not by choice. The irony was, The Weasel had very little in the way of gifts. He couldn't fly; he was physically weak for an Afflicted; his swordsmanship was so-so. The only gift he seemed to have was the power of persuasion over simpler minds."

"Is the Academy where you met Christophe, your bloodmate?" asked Palo.

"No," said Frederique, the first hint of sadness in her voice. "Though I tried to find someone, none of my wonderful classmates ever seemed quite right."

"By the time I left, I had learned to become quite the fighter. Aurelius Scaurus, the gladiator trainer from Capua was our sword master. I was a slow student at first, but then something clicked in my head and how I began to learn. I'll never forget the day I bested four of our strongest swordsmen by myself. Scaurus wrote me a letter of recommendation to anyone who wished to hire me as a fighter. So, I returned to Paris. I signed on as a Council guard. I continued to learn to fight from our finest fighters and swordsmen, including my mother. I spent another three years in the guard, again, taking many lovers. However, I still did not take a mate."
"Christophe came from the most surprising place. As I have told you, my father was a scientist and a collector. Shortly after my return to Paris, he became fascinated with clocks. He purchased every sort of clock he could find and began to study them. Any that were broken he would try to repair -- and without much luck. Clock making, even then, was a fine art. He eventually sought out the help of the Compagnons, a society of tradesmen dedicated to furthering their craft. He found a young man, perhaps twenty-five or so, who had served his apprenticeship, been a journeyman, and was now toiling away in Paris. My father offered this young man some much needed cash to pay visits to our house at night and teach him some tricks of the trade. This young clockmaker's name was Christophe."

"A clockmaker? You fell in love with a clockmaker? A mortal clockmaker?"

"The heart goes where it wants to, my dear," said Frederique. "Speaking of, I must pay a little attention to the current owner of my heart."

They had been moving occasionally as she spoke, but now they took an intermission of sorts to pay attention to certain pressing matters. Frederique began moving slowly and up and down Palo's rigid shaft and as she moved he was able to lower his mouth to her large breasts and elicit moans of pleasure from her as he flicked a ready tongue across her ever-sensitive nipples.

Sooner than she expected, Frederique felt the tremor's begin. Pulling her husband close in to her chest, she gasped and cried out his name.

"Oh Palo," she squealed into his ear. "I've needed this so much today. Oh my god!"

She gasped again and involuntarily rolled her pelvis against him as the climax grew even larger. No longer capable of words, she moaned and pulled Palo to her even tighter. When the waves of pleasure subsided, she began riding him again, but he put his hands on her hips to stop her.

"No, not yet," he insisted. "I want to hear more of the story."

"Ooh, you do, my love? I must be quite the Scheherazade -- I knew her, by the way."

"She was real?" asked Palo, surprised.

"Haven't I told you this? She was of the Afflicted. She was sent to distract King Shahryar. Of course she was never in any danger, but many details were true. If you notice in the tale, the king came to her at night. The Harem quarters were actually underground, built at Scheherazade's request. But, back to my story: Christophe the Clockmaker."

"I was still staying with my parents. As you well know, purchasing and financing a below-ground dwelling is quite expensive so I chose to wait for a while before getting my own. So, my father he hired this shy, handsome young clockmaker to come to teach him horology."

"Christophe and I began to talk, and from talking lead to more talking, and from more talking... well, you know how things go. Ironically, after bedding most of the available Afflicted men in Europe and having no luck in finding a mate, I was soon head over heels in love with Christophe, a mortal."

"The petition went easier than you would have expected. Christophe was intelligent, bright, and a very, very gentle spirit. Galen was chief medical inspector at the time and he declared Christophe one of the finest candidates he had ever seen for our kind. No danger whatsoever."

"So, we underwent the blood ceremony and I took him to mate. A few days later, his gift manifested itself. He was working on a clock. He had just put a highly complex mantle clock back together and realized that one gear was out of place. This meant disassembling the entire thing before he could get to the problem piece. At that moment he pondered whether he could manipulate the gears with his mind. He did. My Christophe's gift was that of a mechanic -- he could look inside of anything and manipulate it. I saw him repair many clocks this way. He would look into the clock, the gears would shift slightly, and the gear in need of repair would float into the works, it would all reassemble, and the clock would be fixed. His way took seconds where a regular clockmaker would take hours. It was a beautiful and a terrible gift."

"Beautiful, I understand," said Palo, "but terrible, how so?"

"I will tell you a tale to illustrate. We were still young, still foolhardy. A year or so after we were married we decided to go out and have a good time with the mortals. We intentionally went to the worst neighborhood and the worst tavern in all of Paris. We got good and drunk, one thing led to another, and... well, we were just stupid. Next thing you know, I found myself pinned down by three men so strong that I couldn't even fly. Christophe was held down with a knife to his throat and a gang of twenty thugs was preparing to have their way with me.

"Ten seconds later, every person in the tavern except the two of us was dead"

"How?" asked Palo.

"Remember what I said. Christophe could manipulate inside of things. What is the human heart, but a simple pump made of flesh? What is the jugular vein, but a soft pipe which carries fluid? With frightening ease, Christophe reached in and killed each and every one of those men. He shattered this one's heart, snipped this one's carotid artery, caused the next to have an aneurism. All with the same ease you or I might make slicing a piece of bread."

"It left him quite shaken. Of course, we had to engage the Council to help us clean the scene. When they learned of Christophe's frightening power, a special committee was formed to decide whether someone so powerful should be allowed to live. Galen, the great physician, testified about Christophe's innate kindness. It was probably because of that very testimony that Christophe was allowed to live. The Council has put many of our kind to death over the years who had gifts so great and minds so unreliable that if they used their gifts it would reveal our kind."

"Other than that horrible incident, our time in Paris was beautiful. We had so many friends, saw so many things. Christophe continued fixing clocks and inventing. Oh Palo, he could come up with the most amazing things. Many of his creations were centuries before their time. We travelled often, celebrated life, and of course made love as often as we could.

"We talked about having children, but we always thought there was time."

"Then the first sign came. I still blame myself for not seeing it. I was visited by a friend of mine from the Academy, Bronwyn, a Welsh girl. She was so lovely and so bright. Her mate had been killed in a freak accident and she had decided to come to Paris. At around the same time, the Weasel arrived on the scene. He had been living somewhere in Russia and relocated to Paris. He was just as arrogant and repulsive as ever. He invited Bronwyn out one night, and after that she was absolutely infatuated with him. 'Tacito this' and 'Tacito that'. 'He really has changed, Frederique -- you should join us for an evening of fun.'"

"I knew there was no way the Weasel and changed, so I ignored her requests and she soon ceased calling."

"As I say, in hindsight, I should have seen the signs. There were a number of mortals disappearing -- too many to be coincidence or from simple mortal crimes. These disappearances were different. Usually, if an Afflicted has gone wild or rogue, there are telltale signs that Council investigators can find. Spots of blood... or our specialists can search the rivers and find bodies that no ordinary police could ever discover. There were none.

"There were other oddities: spouses acting curiously; people resigning positions; private parties where the people attending had little in common. As I say, all of the signs were easy to see in hindsight.

"At last, the truth came to light. One day, Galen came to call at our house. Dear, sweet, perceptive Galen. He came to our house by daylight -- obviously he was enshrouded and wearing smoked spectacles -- but that was the only way he could be sure he wasn't watched. He searched our house thoroughly to be sure no one was there. Once he was satisfied, he examined each of us -- laying his hands on us and peering into our blood, into our systems.

Once he was sure we were secure. He told us the Weasel was building an army -- a horrible, frightening army the likes of which had never been seen.

"We asked him how this could be possible, and he explained. Galen's hands were shaking; I can still see him today. The question had always been what Tacito's gift was.

"'It is binding', Galen explained. 'If someone is unfortunate enough to be infected with this man's blood, they will be bound to him eternally.'

"The Council Guard had brought a woman to Galen. She was a poor streetwalker, a mortal who had recently been turned to the Afflicted with no approval from anyone. Galen looked into her blood and saw Tacito's signs within her. Galen began to surreptitiously examine others and discovered at least ten people so marked in his first evening of looking."

"But how?" interrupted Palo. "How could he turn so many?"

"All he needed was the first few," explained Frederique, "He caught Bronwyn in an unguarded state and took her when her defenses were down. With her at his disposal, he could allow her to lure men to a room where he was hidden -- and as the man was in the throes of passion, he would bite them. Tacito's binding was absolute. Once even a drop of his blood entered someone's system, their only thought was to serve him. His numbers grew rapidly. If he could infect a husband, he would soon have the wife. Once you had a couple, they could lure their friends, and so on.

"We knew we had to act quickly and began to set things in motion, though it required absolute secrecy and care because we had no idea of who we could trust or who might be turned. My father, Christophe, and Galen developed a machine that could detect in seconds if someone's blood was tainted by the Weasel. Any conversations we had required that both parties be tested.

"Then one day... then one day..."

Frederique trailed off, tears flowing from her eyes.

"Oh Palo, there is a reason I haven't told you all of this. Even now it hurts so. Please make love to me. I need to feel you inside of me, I need to become one with you for at least a little while. After that I will finish my tale."

Though Palo was anxious to discover the rest of Frederique's tale, he knew he must comply with her wishes. Lifting her and laying her gently onto the silky padded floor of their little love nest, he did just that.

At first, he lay on top of her and they made love tenderly. However, with those tender, tiny signs that lovers learn from each other she let him know she wanted to lift her legs higher. She moved her legs so they were pulled into her chest -- a position which afforded Palo the deepest penetration with his massive tool, which was often too painful for Frederique. However, it seemed this was what she wanted this day and she groaned in the painful pleasure of surrender with each surge deep into her belly. Even this wasn't enough; however, for next she lifted her legs high and placed them above his shoulders -- allowing him the deepest penetration possible.

She closed her eyes then, and let him push incredibly deeply into her. It seemed that was what she needed. She yearned for divine pain as a reminder of being 'here', in a place with a loved one far away from the events she had been recalling. When Palo cried out in ecstasy, she dropped her legs and pulled him tightly too her, crying out her love for him as he spilled into her.

When their hearts were done racing and their breath had returned, Frederique lay on her side and pulled Palo into her from behind, wrapping his arms around her and nestling into his strong body. Staring out like that, she began her tale once more.

"The plans proceeded well," she said in a low, hypnotic tone. "We gathered our forces as we were sure the Weasel was gathering his."

"One day..." and here Frederique hesitated once again, "One day, Christophe came to me and gave me a gift. It was a locket, a simple, round locket. You have seen it before -- I wear it now and again. Christophe ordered me to always keep it on, no matter what the situation. The next day, it was decided that Christophe should be placed in a safe room -- a place where only Remy, our most trusted friend, knew of. It was decided by all, Christophe included, that it was better to not use his Gift at all rather than risk his falling into enemy hands.

"There are a great many more details I could tell you -- but I will get to the end of the tale and paint with broader strokes for now. Several days later, the war began. It was a full moon in Paris and Tacito's forces mounted their attack. We surprised them by being far more ready than anyone would have ever suspected and it seemed, at first, that we would triumph in short order.

"Then came the frightening turn. We had ordered Remy to stay with Christophe -- but he grew too worried and came to join the battle. Remy, a deplaceur, was taken and once he was bound to The Weasel, he took them to Christophe.

"Where we had nearly won, the tide turned with frightening rapidity. Christophe was bound to the Weasel and all he needed to do was gain one view of a fighter and they would fall down dead with their heart stopped or a cord in their brain snapped. Even worse, the Weasel's forces captured nearly every deplaceur and day was approaching. We knew that if we did not defeat them before sunrise, we would surely fall. They had many mortal allies and they would be able to enter any building below and carry on the battle in daylight.

"My father fell first. He had devised a shield which covered him from view, but he turned one bit too far and Christophe felled him.

"I have told you of my mother's prowess, and do not doubt it because the fight she gave that night was unlike any ever witnessed on this earth. Not only did she put her sword to use, she also flew so quickly, never pausing, that no one could discern more than a blur.

"I will not lie -- I was not far behind her in regard to the skill I showed that evening. My sword arm was lightning; my flying was swifter than a hurricane wind. My mother and I cut a swath through their ranks and were making our way toward Notre Dame where the Weasel had established his stronghold. Then, fate turned against my mother and six fliers blocked her path at the same moment. Just a single instant was all that Christophe needed. I can still see the life leaving my mother's face and her body falling from the sky.

"When my mother fell, I was also paralyzed. I hung there, motionless in the air in plain sight. I can still see Christophe's eyes staring at me with hatred from the front steps of the cathedral. Though I could not hear the words, the Weasel was cursing at him to finish me. Though it appeared he was trying, Christophe's gift was having no effect on me.

"My mother and father were gone. My husband was turned by wicked blood into a mortal enemy. I had nothing to lose. Palo, if God does smile on our kind, he surely did that night. My blade found every heart and blocked every blow. A hundred of the finest fighters of every ability threw their full force against me, and still I didn't fall. As I was fighting in the air, I suddenly saw a path straight to the Weasel -- I flew through the gathered Afflicted with such speed that there was no stopping me.

"There was something else that couldn't be stopped. My dear Christophe, now bound to the Weasel, saw me coming and he jumped in front of his 'master'. It made no matter, my sword pierced both of their hearts. I never looked again upon the villain who nearly destroyed our kind except to slash off his head to assure he could never return. "

"My husband, however, I held in my lap as he gasped out his final breaths. "

"As I held him, his eyes looked at me with a mix of hatred for the woman who had killed his master -- and confusion at the memories of his love for me. The last thing he did was to reveal his secret. He lifted his hand to my locket and smiled. It was the same smile I had seen countless times when he finished repairing a difficult clock, or creating a new one.

"'It worked', was all he said."

"You see, Palo, he had known. He had known that he might be turned, and as one final invention, my marvelous clockmaker had created a device which somehow protected me from his frightening gift. That tiny locket generated a field around me which his mind could not penetrate.

"Without a leader and without the weapon of Christophe, Tacito's ranks quickly folded. I killed thirty more and I had to be dragged away, even as the rising sun was burning my face.

"We met in the tunnels below that great cathedral, licking our wounds as we sat on the tombs of saints and kings. Luckily, we still had the devices for detecting those who were still bound to the Weasel -- so we knew we could find them out eventually.

"That meant nothing to me, however. The surviving leaders realized that there was no way I could be safe for any time in the foreseeable future. The victims of the Weasel were not bound by some magical spell that dissipated upon their master's death. They were bound by blood -- Tacito's bite meant eternal love and loyalty for that despicable man.

"So, I was sent away. One of the Council knew of the small enclave in Morocco which was one of the few places he felt might be safe from any corruption from Tacito's followers. Only he knew where I was going, and I decided to travel alone. For two months, I flew through the night. For two months I hid in cellars with a sword always at my side. For two month I lived without blood or Afflicted companionship, drinking the blood of farm animals and sleeping with mortal men to get me through, fighting every impulse to take one of them to mate.

"At last, I found our lovely friends in Morocco. Wives loaned me their husbands, or mothers loaned me their sons for over thirty years until... well, until I found you."

Palo was quiet for a long while. They both were. It had been an emotionally draining experience for Frederique to tell the tale, and a frightening amount of information for Palo to process.

"Why didn't you tell me this before," Palo said, finally, turning Frederique to face him.

"Palo, I don't want you to take what I say the wrong way -- but I lived in Paradise. Christophe and I lived for centuries together in absolute bliss. Just to say his name still pains me. However, it went beyond that. To protect you, I never mentioned the name of Tacito or the war. Morocco was so isolated, that our friend there were lucky enough to be sheltered from the war that nearly ruined our kind. I was ordered not to speak of my history, or even mention my last name, until I was sent word. When the missive came from the Council that we were to go to America, there were three encoded words at the bottom of the page. It is done. That meant that they had proof the last of Tacito's followers had been eradicated and I was safe once more. "

Palo took her in his arms and looked affectionately into her eyes. "I am... how shall I say it... I am concerned for you that you have been hiding such a secret. Yet, I am proud of you as well. No wonder people here show you such reverence. I am so proud, so very proud of you, my love. I am also ready now to shed any selfish male pride because you are the better fighter. A woman who can defeat an army single-handed is one to be admired and nothing else. I am married to a warrior gueen. "

They soon dressed and began exploring the rest of the house. An Afflicted abode is one which must be lived in for days, weeks at a time if necessary. It was evident the prior owners had taken every effort to insure their home could be lived in for years at a time with no desire of ever leaving.
As they watched, a cloud of concern seemed to hover over Palo.

"Darling, what bothers you?' asked Frederique.

"It's just... something isn't making sense. I am confused by the Council."

"What do you mean?" asked Frederique.

"Sigrid is absolutely right. It makes no sense that no one was there to meet us when we arrived. To hide you away for nearly a century, and then have no one there to meet you?"

"It's true," said Frederique, quietly. "I had expected to have some sort of escort to be there when..."

As if on cue, a great bell reverberated throughout the house. They were near the entry and took a look through the viewer. Outside was a man whose face bore battle scars deep in his skin. Upon recognizing him, Frederique let out a gasp.

"Oh my!" she said excitedly. "Open the door, Palo."

The door opened and the gruff looking man stepped in. Once the door was closed, Frederique jumped into his arms.

"Aurelius!" she cried, hugging him fiercely and kissing his cheeks with daughterly affection.

"Frederique, my beauty!" he said, returning the affection in a way that ran contrary to his harsh demeanor.

When he put Frederique back down, she kept his hand in hers and turned to Palo.

"Palo, my husband, I would like you to meet Aurelius Scaurus, the finest warrior and fighting instructor the Afflicted has ever known."

"So this is the man who won your heart after the clockmaker, eh?" said Aurelius, looking Palo up and down with an appraising eye. "Good of you to choose a fighter."

He stepped up to Palo and grasped him by the forearm in a manner of greeting not popular for nearly two millennia. He also took Palo's shoulder in his other hand.

"Palo, good to meet you."

He continued to examine Palo with a steady eye.

"Good shoulders, frighteningly strong arms. Favor the Arab swords I see -- I'd wager to say I wouldn't want to meet you on land with a seight. You'd have me disarmed in less than ten minutes. But as for the air... yes, you'll need work. Frederique never was much of a teacher. Hell of a fighter, but not too good at passing those things along. We'll remedy that, Palo, never you fear."

Frederique watched the exchange with amusement and Palo was taken so off-balance he couldn't do anything but stammer out a half-formed greeting.

"Now Aurelius," said Frederique. "To what do we deserve the pleasure? Surely your visit isn't simply to offer my husband fighting lessons."

"No," said the veteran of more wars than history could even remember. He was much more serious now.

"Frederique, Palo," he said, "we have much to discuss."

* * * *

Aimée waited patiently in the pristine, white room. She was sitting in the plain cotton gown they had given her. To her surprise, Abby poked her head in the door. She was dressed in a plain white dress that seemed to accentuate her curvy body in all the right places.

"Abby. What are you doing here?" asked Aimée.

"I work here, didn't I tell you?" said the vivacious redhead. "With my skills as an empath, medicine is of course my chosen path. I serve here at the clinic two hours a day."

"What are they going to do to me?" asked Aimée.

"Oh, poke, prod, take some samples. Nothing too bad. You'll like Dr. Villepreux-Power. She can come off a bit gruff -- but she's brilliant and has a wonderful heart underneath."

"This doctor, what does she do? What's her gift?"

"As a mortal, she was a biologist who studied the water -- the oceans. So, when she became one of us, as often happens, she found that her gift was to look into fluids. Her gift is similar to Galen's."

"Galen? The doctor who can look into the body? My mother spoke to me about him?"

"Yes. The poor man. He is... how shall we say, he is letting go."

"Letting go?" asked Aimée.

"Yes. Galen was with the first Colony. He was brought to help cure the first Afflicted, but actually had himself infected when he saw the potential of the Affliction. However, after more than two millennia, he has wearied of this life. As people sometimes do, he seems to be fading from us."

"Oh," said Aimée, not quite understanding. "So, this Dr. Villepreux-Power, she has the same gifts?"

"Not exactly," explained Abby. "Where Galen can see the whole system, Jeanne -- Dr. Villepreux-Power -- she sees the fluids. We have microscopes that you can put blood beneath and see the individual pieces swimming around. Our lovely Doctor can see everything swimming everywhere and needs no tools to do so. Between the work Galen did in the past, Dr. Villepreux-Power, and a recent recruit, a Dr. Pasteur -- we are making gigantic strides in understanding the Affliction. Oh!"

Abby had trailed off, distracted.

"Abby, what is it?" inquired Aimée.

"Your brother is here?"

"What?" said Aimée. "How can you tell that?"

"With my gift," said Abby, shrugging. "If I know someone, I can sense their presence within a mile or so. If I know them well, I can detect them very far away. Jacob -- well -- I practically can tell where he is anywhere in the world. With Claude, because I 'met' him through you, I realized just now it was him."

Aimée had thought that Claude was out of her mind -- at least she had tried to convince herself of that. Blushing, she realized she had simply been fooling herself. The very thought of him in the same building dredged up a hundred, contrary emotions.

"Abby," whispered the confused young woman, "can you tell... with your gift, can you tell if he's found someone else?"

"Found someone else, or fucked someone else?" asked Abby. "Neither are questions I think I should answer for you -- but I can tell you that his heart is not given away yet, if that helps."

"It does," said Aimée.

It meant a great deal, actually. She had an odd sense of possession over her brother. She knew, with the sexual appetite brought on by the Affliction that any expectation of fidelity was unreasonable. She also knew taking him as her bloodmate was not in the stars -- but she at least wanted him to wait a while -- and an odd part of her consciousness wanted her to be granted approval over who he might choose.

They shifted their conversation to other topics.

* * * *

Claude was sitting in his own room, in his own white gown when a frightening pop sizzled the air just outside his door. At first, the sound of a deplaceur excited him -- thinking it was Aimée. However, he realized that was a ridiculous thought. To his knowledge, Aimée had never been in this place, so how could she appear here.

His door opened and he was met by a very strange sight. First to enter was a slender, warrior-like woman who had an air about her that said 'weapon', and his assessment was right. The woman's name was simply Mary -- but she was most often referred to as 'Bullet' for she was one of the most feared and respected deplaceurs among all the Afflicted. Along with Brolly, she was the top guard and courier.

Another woman followed her, and this woman gave Claude even more reason to pause.

She was old.

It is not uncommon for the Afflicted to see older people in their dealings with mortals, but even for Claude -- someone new to 'civilization' so-to-speak -- the appearance of such an elderly woman in an Afflicted institution was a bit odd. Even more strange, as the woman spoke and moved, her actions and youthful voice did not match her appearance.

"Hello, young -- Claude is it? My name is Dr. Villepreux-Power and I'm here to examine you as a newly Awakened entry into our society and also to collect the samples for our fluid library. I haven't much time, so let us proceed. Spit, please."

"Pardon?" said Claude, bemused by this whirlwind of a woman who had breezed into the room.

"Take this vial, and spit," she said, handing Claude a tube and stopper. "Stop it up when you are done."

"Yes, all right but..."

Claude was still entirely perplexed by the dichotomy between the woman's appearance and actions.

"What are you gawking at? What seems to be the..."

"Eh hem," said the Bullet, gesturing to her own face.

"Oh, my goodness -- I always forget," said the doctor. "Just one year. One year, young Claude, and I will be able to shed this all forever.

She turned away from him, removed a wig and pulled off a terribly ingenious mask. When she turned back, Claude was greeted by a woman who would perhaps appear mid-thirties in mortal terms, with the same piercing eyes -- but a face that matched her energy much more closely.

"I forgot you were my first patient of the day. A little less than a year, and I will have my official 'death' and be able to step away from my mortal identity. It's been three years now since I joined the Afflicted. I'm very ready to leave the mortal world entirely behind. Now, back to business. Spit please."

She was already pulling out a glass syringe and affixing a needle to the end.

"Very well." Claude spit into the glass tube and stopped it up, handing it over to the Bullet.

"What is that sharp thing..." stuttered Claude.

"Mon dieu, do they tell you people nothing. My task is to compile a library of every member of the Afflicted and that is why I am here. I get your saliva, your blood, and two other samples of course. This is Bullet, my guard. Given the nature of your blood and Gifts, you can well imagine we don't want any fresh blood samples getting captured and let into the wild, so-to-speak. Now, time to draw your blood."

Claude barely had time to react as the doctor pushed back his sleeve and inserted a needle into a vein. The syringe filled quickly and Dr. Villepreux-Power screwed off the needle and sealed a cap onto it.

"Bullet, if you will," she said, handing it to the fierce-looking woman who labeled it and slipped it into a belt she wore around her shoulders that looked nothing so much like an ammo belt, though it held empty and full vials as opposed to ammunition.

"There we go -- two down, two to go."

Claude looked up at her in confusion.

"Two?"

"Yes," said Madame Villepreux-Power. "Pop quiz. What other two fluids could I be thinking of?"

"Well, piss, I suppose."

"Yes, urine -- and what would the other be?"

"Other... No!"

"Oui," said the brusque woman, smiling a bit of a wicked grin. "I'm guessing a young man like you would know how to produce such a thing. "

"Here are these," she said, handing him two sterile jars. "Put one of each sample into each of them and I will return to give you a quick examination."

"I uh... I'm not sure if I can fill these all the way," stammered Claude.

The biologist/doctor rolled her eyes.

"You don't need to fill them," she said. "Just up to the line for the urine and whatever you can with the seed."

With that, she was gone and Claude was left to stare at the chamber pot in the corner, and contemplate the other thing they were asking him to do.

* * * *

By the time Dr. Villepreux-Power had entered Aimée's room, Abby had already gathered the urine, the spit, and the vaginal swab she knew the doctor would want. The doctor took the blood sample from Aimée and peered into it the vial.

"Fascinating," the doctor said, peering into the vial. "A fascinating sample. Now, let me take a closer look inside of you."

Dr. Villepreux-Power put her hand to Aimée's chest and the doctor's eyes blurred as she lost herself. In a way, she was swimming through Aimée's system, taking a microscopic look through Aimée's veins, arteries, and even the limbic system.

"You're damned healthy," said the doctor, stepping away. "Quite the swimmer, I'd imagine. Your blood is fascinating, a mix of old and new strains of the Affliction which I've rarely seen. You've taken a lover, I see, a serious one."

"How can you tell that?" asked Aimée, blushing.

"Resonance, my dear," said the doctor. "The Affliction shines, in a way, and your symbiotic cells are well-aligned and poised to take the next step. You're so ready; I merely need to see the man's chart and I'd recommend the blood rite ceremony whenever you wish."

"Yes, but..."

Aimée trailed off, tears forming in her eyes.

"It's her brother," said Abby, touching Aimée gently on the shoulder.

"Oh dear," said the doctor, her voice softening as she looked to Abby. "Two pairs, no less. Well, I suppose you've been separated from him?"

Aimée nodded.

"Good," said the doctor, and then she took Aimée by both shoulders and looked her directly in the eyes.

"Listen to me, young woman. These emotions you are feeling are just as much biological as they are emotional. Your body and your Affliction have taken the natural steps of fixating on a desirable, familiar mate. The only way you can break that fixation is by finding others. This sexual hunger of the Affliction is just as real as the hunger of your stomach. Don't be stupid and try to deny it because of 'love'. I know how hard this is for you -- but let our brilliant Abigail be your guide -- she will help you get past this."

Aimée wiped away tears. "I'll try," she whispered. "I'm trying very hard to not sulk so much."

"Good girl," said the doctor. "Now, I've still got Tokyo, San Francisco, and Tunisia to visit -- so I need to finish my rounds here."

Though it had seemed abrupt, Aimée actually did feel more comforted after what the doctor said. Being able to tell herself in scientific terms that her longing for Claude wasn't just in her heart --it somehow made sense.

"She's a fascinating woman," said Aimée after the doctor left.

"Oh yes, and absolutely brilliant. You have no idea," agreed Abby. "Once she... Oh dear!"

Abby was blushing furiously.

"What? What is it?"

"Oh nothing," said Abby, "it's just, someone is in need of some assistance."

* * * *

"Come on -- get up! Get stiff you bastard!" muttered Claude angrily as he looked down.

The urine had been no problem. However, the second specimen...

"What's wrong with you," he said directly to his half-flaccid friend. "Every day, I can't get you to go down. Certainly not around Aimée or Mother -- and now that we're alone you're suddenly shy! Come on you god damned traitor!"

Yet no matter what stroking he gave, no matter how hard he tried to imagine things -- the sterile environment of the clinic and the isolated surroundings made it so he couldn't even get his one-eyed culprit even half-interested, or half stiff.

Dr. Villepreux-Power entered the room and found Claude seated in a chair, his hospital gown covering his body. He tried to look casual.

"Very good," she said, crossing to the urine sample and drawing up a vial's worth of the yellow fluid into a syringe. "Now for the other specimen."

"Yes, I just thought we could perhaps do that another time."

"Young man, until my dear friend Galen recovers from his depression, or another suitable doctor is found I am currently the primary physician in twelve clinics worldwide. I don't have time to jump back here when you find it convenient to do something I know young men your age do with amazing frequency. Even mortals. Abigail!"

Abby had already left Aimée and had gone down the hall to wait outside the door. Bullet was waiting outside patiently.

"Hello Bullet," Abby whispered.

The warrior woman simply nodded in return.

"You should tell him, you know."

The woman's hard features softened and she shook her head 'no'.

"How many men will you sleep with just to keep your need satisfied," said Abby, touching her gently on the arm. "You are of the greatest warriors of our kind; it isn't fitting of you to think of yourself as unworthy -- regardless of the target."

Two tears dripped down the stern woman's face.

"Abigail!" said Dr. Villepreux-Power's voice from inside the room.

"Tell him," whispered Abby one more time, before opening the door.

"Abigail, there you are," said the doctor. "How do you get here so fast, it's like you're reading my... never mind, that's exactly what you're doing."

"How can I be of assistance?" said Abby, calmly.

"We have a young man having some difficulty with sample number four, my dear," said the doctor. "Please apply your unusual skills and assist him, if you don't mind."

"I believe I can help things along, doctor," said Abby with a glint in her eye.

"Very good," said the doctor. "Tokyo just has three patients today, I believe. I'll be back in twenty minutes or so. See that it is done, yes?"

"I will," said Abby.

All this while, Claude had been rendered entirely and completely speechless. Two minutes before, if you would have asked him to describe the perfect woman -- he would have been hard pressed to decide between his mother and his sister. Frederique was like a mature wine, with all of its perfections brought about through experience. Then there was his sister Aimée, with her high breasts and athletic body. If his mother was the wine, his sister was the grape; fresh, crisp and full of the promise of life just beginning.

Before him stood a new example. This redhead was a combination of the two ideal figures he had in his head. This... Abigail, had the doctor said? She was more round and voluptuous than Aimée, but still in a youthful way. Her breasts were straining at the white fabric of her dress. Her hips curved out in wonderful ways. Claude was not in love, but he was most certainly smitten.

As for Abby, she was pleased to meet the young man who she had visited in Aimée's memories. Further, she thought she should have a bit of fun with her new friend's brother.

"Hello Claude," said Abby. "I'm here to assist you. First, come with me over to the mirror."

There was a full length mirror in the room. Since she had to borrow others' eyes, she had not been able to see much of Claude because Dr. Villepreux-Power had been focusing more on her notes. She had a good sense of what Claude looked like from Aimée's memories, but she wanted to see first-hand.

"There we are," she said, as they stood in front of the mirror. Claude in front, Abby looking over his shoulder.

"Now tell me, Claude. What's been giving you difficulty about performing such a natural, enjoyable act?"

"I...I was just embarrassed, I suppose," he stammered.

"Oh you mustn't be," she said softly.

Her head was resting on his shoulder now, her breasts were pushing against his back. His breathing was increasing and Claude felt like his heart might pound out of his chest.

As for Abby, she was practically intoxicated with his presence. When she recalled memories from people, it was more often about the emotions. She could certainly retrieve specific images at times from others' memories -- but it was more about the feeling of the experience. With Claude, she had a haunting familiarity with him because of her close bonding with Aimée. Seeing him through his own eyes, she could see that he was the picture of perfection: Broad shoulders, gentle face, and his skin was a captivating, chocolaty hue. Abby was flushed -- and though the scientific side of her realized it might be a mixture of the intense memories she had recalled from Aimée's mind mixed with his physical attractiveness -- scientific objectivity was out the window.

"Claude, I'd like to put a question to you," whispered Abby, feeling particularly bold.

"Yes?" stammered Claude.

"I am an empath, Claude. I usually assist patients such as yourself by simply stimulating certain areas of their mind. I help them dredge up the most helpful memories for this situation."

"So, what's the question?" asked Claude.

"You see, on very rare occasions, I'm willing to help the patient directly. I don't mean to offend you by such an offer --but since time is of the essence, I'm willing to assist in any way needed."

(In fact, Abby had never offered such assistance. Generally, she just sat apart from the patient and sent pleasurable sensations and memories that helped polish the young men off in short order.)
"I'm... I'm not offended by that. I would be... I would be willing to accept your assistance, with gratitude."

"Good," said Abby, stepping back. "But this must be very clinical, you understand that, yes?"

"Of course," said Claude, trying to play it casual.

"As I understand it," said Abby, unbuttoning her dress. "Young men are often aroused by naked images of the female form. Is that correct, young man?"

Her dress had fallen, and now she stood in nothing but shoes, stockings, and garters.

"I think... I think that is an accurate statement," said Claude, who had turned to gaze at her. His imagined view of what was below her dress was nowhere nearly as amazing as the real thing.

"Good," said Abby. "I also understand, from my reading of course, that being naked in the presence of a young woman will often stimulate certain responses. Should we test that theory out?"

"What?" said Claude, still transfixed by her beauty. "Oh! Oh, yes. We should...test that."

He pulled the tie on the hospital gown's neck and let it fall.

While Abby was flattered at the emotions and thoughts he had of her form (in fact, it was an absolute ego booster, the way he was responding to her), with him facing her she was being denied the sight of him.

"Good," she said, turning him back around to the mirror.

Again, she rested her chin on his shoulder, but now there was no fabric separating her full, round breasts from his back. They brushed gently along his skin before pushing more firmly against him.

"Oh my god," whispered Abby very softly to herself at the sight of his muscular arms and chest, the hint of hair coming in at his sternum. And lower, her mouth practically watered at the sight of his beautiful cock. Her breathing had likely doubled in pace and she was sure Claude could feel her heart trying to jump through her ribs.

"What was that?" asked Claude, who hadn't quite heard what she'd muttered.

"Nothing. I believe the documentation on this subject says that manual stimulation of some type is in order, yes?"

"Yes," panted Claude.

Abby reached around from behind him and grabbed the thick, long shaft in her hand. It was all she could do to stop herself from turning him around and forcing him the ground so she could take him then and there. However, she did know that the semen samples needed to be pristine and unmixed with any other bodily fluids. All she could do was duck her head down below his shoulder and rest her cheek against his lovely, strong back.

"Let us proceed," she said and began pumping his long muscular shaft in her hand.

For Claude, it was undoubtedly the most erotic experience he had ever been through. Yes, he'd had lust-filled experiences with Aimée. Certainly the time he had been pleasured by both his mother and sister was beyond memorable, but there was something in this Abigail's touch that made his entire nervous system light up with electricity.

Then came the images. Unbidden, he found images trickling into his mind of him taking Abby in every possible way. From behind, atop her in the missionary position, and so on. The images were both startling because of their intensity, but also because of their vividness. It was exactly like he was remembering making love to her -- but that was an impossibility. What he didn't know was Abby's own fantasies were leaping the gap between them and entering his mind unbidden. She was so disarmed by his presence that she couldn't actually control exactly what she was doing.

How long they stood there like that was hard to say, because it felt like forever that she was pressed against him, working his rigid shaft in her hand. However, it really wasn't more than a couple of minutes before the intensity of the situation led to Claude's balls tightening and a groan flying from his lips.

"Oh, Abigail," he cried.

She barely had the sense of mind to spin around him and grab the wide receiving beaker.

"That's it, Claude," she cried. "Right here, right into here."

His cock was so stiff, so upright, it was actually a bit of a struggle to get him to aim it downward, even with him angling his hips. Yet, Abby pushed down firmly and aimed it just in time as spurt after spurt of the creamy fluid splashed into the glass.

Orgasms were a bit of a challenge for Abby. As an empath, she was naturally more susceptible to such emotional intensity. So, she had felt many male orgasms in her day. Nothing compared to this, however. Abby herself gasped at the desperate release of emotion and cum.

"God yes, Claude, don't stop," she urged him.

Another release came, and both of their knees buckled. Abby wondered how she was still able to even stand, let alone keep his glistening knob aimed into the marked glass.

Again... and again... and again, Claude poured himself out.

Abby was this close to telling this young man that she loved him. That she loved him? She was confused at the emotions boiling in her. It was the empathic link, she reasoned --but no. Bringing this handsome young man to such a climax was the most emotionally satisfying sex she'd had since... since Jacob. She knew that this was a result of her intimate bonding with Aimée, of her diving so deeply into her friend's memories. Yet, she didn't care. What she didn't know was that her empath's gift was running somewhat wild, that her swirling emotions were also manipulating Claude's very being as well. There was doubtless a strong chemistry between them. Add to that Abby's powerful gift, still not fully trained, and it did explain some of their instant connection.

As Claude poured out the last gush of jism, Abby was indeed on her knees -- weakened by the intensity of what had just happened.

"There you are," she said, taking the beaker and setting it on the counter.

"Abigail, I..."

She pulled him roughly to her and kissed him ravenously. The sparks jumping between them were almost visible, so intense was the emotion. Claude's strong arms wrapped around her and she melted into the embrace. Again, there was no sense of time as their bodies sang out for one another. Abby cradled Claude's face in her hands and finally was able to pull away from the kiss.

"I love you," muttered Claude.

"What?" she whispered in surprise.

"I said I love you," said Claude. "I know that makes no sense, but I do. I... I still love my sister, Aimée, but I feel just as strongly for you. I don't know why."

"Oh Claude, I love you t..."

Abby trailed off, growing suddenly pale.

She couldn't make any sense of this. She wanted to blame it upon the fact that she had already slept with Claude. She had shared Aimée's memories and that had somehow jumpstarted her connection with Claude. But, that wasn't it. She had shared sex memories with many other girls, and when she'd slept with that shared lover, it had never been like this.

"I have to go," she said. "I have more work. I must go now."

She picked up her dress and hurriedly buttoned it.

"But..."

"I'm glad I could help, sir," said Abby, brusquely. "However, I have other things to attend to."

"How can I reach you?" he asked.

"You can't!" said Abby, a bit too harshly. "I live, elsewhere and I have dear friends who I must look out for and now I must go."

"But..."

Claude could not finish his sentence, because the beautiful redhead named Abigail, the girl who had just captured the part of his heart that didn't belong to Aimée or his mother... this Abigail was gone.

* * * *

"Come on," said Abby, bursting into the clinic room as Aimée was just finishing getting dressed. "We need to get back to the Academy. Classes start in less than an hour and I need a man first."

"Oh, all right," said Aimée. "Did you see... did you see Claude?"

"Only briefly," said Abby sharply. "But we really need to go."

"Abby..." started Aimée.

"What?" interrupted Abby, practically snapping. "What questions do you have? I said I barely saw him."

"I know," said Aimée, confused at her friend's behavior. "I just wanted to tell you, the buttons on your dress aren't matching the right holes.."

"I'll fix it later, come on!"

* * * *

Claude's head was spinning. Less than a day ago, he had been pining away for Aimée. Then he had lain with Hannah and it had been... well, he had been satiated, for lack of a better word, but he certainly hadn't formed any sort of attachment to her. Now this Nurse Abigail had seduced him, undressing herself, and had 'milked' him so sensuously -- and then the kiss! He knew that his words had been rash, and out of her presence he didn't feel those emotions nearly as strongly. Still, the fact that this redheaded beauty had stirred such emotions in him truly stunned him. Now, she was gone.

He dressed himself and waited patiently for the doctor's return.

"Where is Abigail?" asked the doctor a few minutes later.

"Gone," said Claude, glumly.

"And did she..."

"There on the counter," said Claude, emotionless.

"Is this some sort of joke?" asked the doctor, looking at the beaker.

"No," said Claude, "why would it be?"

"There's too much," said Dr. Villepreux-Power.

"Sorry. Take what you need."

"This really came out of you?" said the doctor. "There's over a deciliter here, or a half cup as they'd say in these parts."

"It doesn't look like that much," said Claude, still morose.

"Trust me, it's a lot, young stallion."

The doctor syringed up as much as she needed and then examined Claude's inner system as she had with Aimée. She looked up, surprised, at the similar traits in Claude's system -- though there was a new resonance that puzzled her

"Young man, may I ask, is your sister perhaps named Aimée?"

"Yes," said Claude, coming up out of his haze. "How did you know?"

The doctor repeated her spiel about biology, resonance, and so on and urged Claude to seek out others.

"I will Doctor," said Claude. "And I'm surprised to say, I think it might be easier than I'd suspected."

"If, " thought Claude to himself as he departed, "I can find Abigail again."

The doctor took one more look at still very full container -- young Claude had produced well more than ten times that which a healthy mortal could produce.

"Ah, those stallions," she said to herself. She contemplated the delicious cocktail sitting before her and considered having a sip, then shrugged and placed the beaker into the cleaning bin.






CHAPTER 8





Aimée was greatly confused by her friend's behavior. Abby had rushed out of the clinic and insisted that Aimée deplace them to the station nearest to their dormitory in order to save time. The time at the clinic had taken longer than usual and Aimée could only imagine that Abby must have a stronger than normal sunset response and was in need of some sort of relief. Though she hadn't heard the term yet, the phrase around the dorm was 'sunset slut', and it was equally applied to both young men and women whose libido was most affected by the setting of the sun they never looked upon.

In fact, Abby was the furthest thing from a sunset slut. Her abilities allowed her to commune more closely with her Affliction and soothe it through such times. Her lovemaking was always planned. Abby chose partners carefully and deliberately. She was not the sort to jump into the arms of any man who caught her attention.

That was not the case this evening. Abby entered the dorm first, and by the time Aimée had passed through the double security doors her friend had already shed every stitch of clothing.

"Oh," said Aimée, surprised. "You're already naked. I see."

"I need a man," Abby said with strong conviction in her voice. "So do you."

"All right," said Aimée, confused. She shed some of her clothes, but wasn't quite ready for parading around in front of all of her new classmates au natural.

Abby walked purposefully into the common area and scanned the candidates with a predator's eye.

"Hooray!" said Jackie, who was sitting naked at one of the tables and eating her breakfast. Jackie had formed a one-person committee to make the dorm clothing-free. "Abby has finally seen the light. Who's next?"

Abby ignored Jackie and zoomed in on her target, Adolfo, a young cadet from Mexico. His nickname was 'Oppo' from the word opposite due to the fact that he was certainly the shortest of their class but arguably the most well-endowed of the boys.

Oppo was sitting on a chaise lounge and reading a book and was quite taken by surprise when Abby tossed the book aside and straddled him, her breasts brushing his face before settling against him as she lowered her face to within a fraction of an inch of his.

"What do you say, Oppo, are you hungry?"

"Well, I just had some bacon and eggs, but..."

"No, Oppo, I meant are you hungry because I sure as hell am."

"Oh...Oh!" cried Oppo, as Abby's hand snaked down his pants and began massaging him to full firmness.

"Would you like to find a room?" he inquired in a low groan.

"No time," she said, already pushing his pants down. "I need you. Now!"

Oppo tried to object, but his arguments quickly dissipated beneath Abby's kisses and attentions. The fact is, few men could resist such an onslaught from a normal woman for long. Add in the power of an empath intent on seduction and Oppo didn't stand a chance.

To the surprise of all, less than a minute later, poor Oppo (though 'poor' is a relative term) was soon being ridden by a sex-crazed Abby, the same Abby who had always been the most demure and discreet of their group.

"That's it baby," growled Abby as she worked Oppo into her, taking in another half inch or so of his massive tool with each descent down his legendary shaft.

The rest of them could only watch on in disbelief and awe, as one would a carriage-wreck or some other inconceivable act. Perhaps the most shocked of all was Aimée, who had just now stepped into the wider world of the Afflicted. Now, her calm friend was mounting a young man in full public with frightening fervor. Aimée feared it was just as her mother had said -- they were animals. Would this soon be Aimée? Would she be a slave to uncontrolled wants and needs?

This conundrum was further worsened by something increasing in Aimée's system -- arousal. The sight of Abby riding Oppo was so exciting. Couple this with the erotic emanations Abby was unconsciously sending out and Aimée was surprised to find herself scanning the boys in the room for likely candidates.

Abby picked up on this thought and suddenly stopped mid-plunge and turned to address Aimée with an angry snarl.

"What are you waiting for?! We both need someone. Pick one and get this over with, you damned coward. It's time. Take Johnny, he's lovely."

Aimée was stunned by the words, but turned to the boy Abby had indicated. They each blushed at the orders of Abby, but Johnny crossed to the lovely girl who was a newcomer to him. Both of their eyes were still transfixed on Abby, but Johnny gave a gentle nudge to Aimée.

"So?" he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Abby seems to have given us orders."

"I suppose she has," said Aimée. She was taken by the boy's winning smile. "If you don't mind though, I'd much rather find a private place."

"Perfectly fine with me," said Johnny, taking her hand.

As they started down the hallway, Abby cried out with her first orgasm.

"It's good, isn't it?" she said, desperately clinging to Oppo. "Us together, isn't it so good?"

Her voice had a strange anxiousness about it -- like she needed validation.

"Yes," said Oppo, "it's wonderful Abby."

"I'm so glad," she cried. "Oh! Another one."

This orgasm rocked her body -- and she unwittingly broadcast the waves of pleasure throughout the dorm, literally buckling the knees of most people around.

Johnny felt it. He'd already been half-stiff watching Abby, her wave of climax got him fully stiff instantaneously. He whispered in Aimée's ear. "We'd better hurry if you want privacy."

They were soon in a private bedroom and were kissing each other hungrily. Aimée thought it would have been more difficult, but Abby had already broken down some of the barriers by sharing her sexual memories so intimately the night before. In a way, Aimée had slept with Jacob (via Abby), and that had eased her into the idea of sharing herself with someone else.

In just a few minutes, Johnny was inside of her. Just like that, there was a man inside of her... and physically it felt oh so good to be filled once more.

What differed was the emotional tone. With Claude, Aimée now knew she had been in love. Desperately, wonderfully, and physically in love.

With Johnny, there was none of that desperate longing. Satisfaction? Absolutely. However, fun was the key emotion. Aimée found herself smiling more and more as they attacked each other with sexual abandon.

He was lovely as Abby had said. He was caring and attentive and had that wonderful smile. He was also a very dedicated lover. He slid in and out of her faster and faster and she was surprised when her climax arrived and then...she couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh my. Oh, ha ha ha..."

"What? What's so funny," asked Johnny, who was certainly confused by the girl who was both trembling and laughing beneath him.

"Oh Johnny, it isn't you," she said, still giggling. "It's just so... Oh my god here it is again. Hee hee. It's not you, keep moving. It's so merry. So fun. I never knew, oh my GOD!"

She arched her back, the laughter leaving her for a moment as the full orgasm shook her body. However, as it subsided, she laughed softly again.

"I'm glad I'm fun, I guess," said Johnny, chortling.

"Oh you are," said Aimée -- giggling. "Now how about you. Now why don't you fill me up with some lovely fun?"

Johnny was certainly willing, and Aimée's urging was all he needed to send him over the edge.

"Oh God," he groaned, and he couldn't help but laugh as well when the last of the eruptions subsided.

"Ooh, you are lovely," cooed Aimée to Johnny in between kisses.

After he left to retrieve different clothes, Aimée found she couldn't stop herself from smiling.

"I'm free," she said to herself. "Free to give in to these damned urges and not have my heart ripped in two. Yes, this is going to be fun."

She began to get dressed. I should wear something provocative she mused. If I'm going to have fun -- I should make it really fun.

She didn't have much, but she did find a blue dress which showed off her cleavage very well. She began working on her hair, pinning it up but leaving some curls hanging on the side in a way she knew had always driven Claude crazy.

Claude -- how she still loved him -- but she knew that for now, she had some nice diversions in store.

She couldn't wait to tell Abby of this revelation -- to share this new discovery with her friend.

* * * *

Abby, however, was not feeling that life was free and fun. She had ridden Oppo through three climaxes and was on the way to a fourth when she felt him tightening up.

"Oh yes, my lover," she rasped. "Let yourself go. Can you love me, Oppo? Do you think you could love me?"

"Yes," said Oppo, caught up in emotion. "I can love you."

"Forever -- do you think you could love me forever?"

"I... do you think we could talk about this later?"

"Of course," she said, "now give yourself to me."

Abby opened her mind and let it merge with Oppo, cashing in on one of the greatest benefits of her gift -- the ability to experience others' orgasms in a way known to very few.

"Oh yes," she cried as she sensed him gushing into her with a powerful climax.

She had done such a thing many times before, but now she wished for it to linger. She clasped Oppo tightly to her and kissed him deeply. She wanted that more... the more she had felt with Jacob, and now with Claude. A connection that ran deep between whatever that thing is we call a soul. But when Oppo was done -- there was no connection. It had only been sex, nothing more. Abby began to weep.
"It's not the same," she said, her tears falling onto Oppo's face.

"What's not the... Abby, what on earth is wrong?"

"It -- isn't -- the -- same!' she cried and jumped off of him. She climbed off of him and ran crying down the hallway until she found a vacant room and locked herself in.

* * * *

Aimée's preparations were complete. She appraised herself in the mirror and knew it was vain, but she was proud of her appearance. Elegant, but provocative... sexy, but a bit trampy as well. It was perfect. She looked forward to a bit of flirting.

Her mood was quickly changed, however, when she stepped into the hallway. There were several residents gathered around the door across the hall with concerned looks on their faces.

"Abby," said Jackie -- who was actually dressed for the first time since Aimée had arrive - "Abby, please open up. Tell us what's wrong?"

There were several residents gathered around the door.

"What's happened?" asked Aimée.

"It's Abby," said Diana, another of the female residents. "She pounced on Oppo, then as soon as they were done she ran off crying and locked herself in there."

"It wasn't my fault," said Oppo, who was also there. "It wasn't even my idea. She came after me."

"We know, Oppo," said Jackie.

Jackie turned back to the door and started pounding again.

"Abby, don't make us break in there."

"You couldn't," said Abby's muffled voice through the door. "They're Council secured. Besides, Brana would have your head."

"I'm so worried," said Diana, wiping away tears. "Abby is the one who takes care of us. I just don't know what I would do if anything happened to her."

"I'm worried, too," said Jackie, starting to cry as well.

Aimée started to cry, too. Then something clicked in her head. She hadn't been sad just a minute ago. She'd been confused, yes, but not sad. Who else but... Abby!

"Abby!" said Aimée, shouting into the door. "We're so worried for you -- but, if you could, could you maybe not umm... I can't think of the English word -- émettent -- emit. Could you not emit your feelings so much?"

"Sorry," said a sad voice muffled voice from behind the door. Suddenly, the faces in the hall brightened and the world didn't seem as dark as before.

"Listen," said Aimée, putting her mouth up to the door. "We are worried. Please, just let one of us in to talk."

The door opened quickly and Aimée found herself being yanked by the arm into the room.

Abby pulled her in, then closed the door and locked it behind her.

Abby was dressed in a simple shift and was pacing back and forth in the room. Her face was blotchy from crying and the tears continued to pour down her face.

"Abby, my dear, what on earth is wrong?"

"Wrong? Everything is wrong. I've been unfaithful to Jacob and I've betrayed my very best friend."

"Unfaithful?" said a confused Aimée, "but you've slept with numerous men since you're arrival."

"Slept with, yes?" said Abby, throwing herself on the bed and crying even more. "But not unfaithful. Not in here."

She rolled onto her back and made a fierce motion, pounding her chest.

"My heart has always been true to Jacob. My body, it does what it will -- but I always thought -- I always thought we would find a way to merge. I thought I was just biding my time, just dallying with these. I was certain that the Council would announce that my brother and I were suitable bloodmates and they would declare us to be a rare exception. I always had this fantasy that Galen himself would declare that Jacob and I were so well matched there was no other possibility and our hearts would be complete once more. But... today, I felt the same intensity, the same love for another boy."

"Who?" asked Aimée. "Oppo?"

"No!" cried Abby. "Oppo was a distraction. I thought if I could couple with him then perhaps my heart would go to him as well. I thought perhaps it might be a phase of the moon, or a new time for me. But with Oppo it was just plain sex. Lovely, physical, lust, but nothing more. But with this other boy there was this instant connection. It was a yearning that hurt. It hurt even more because he returned the feeling. I'm an empath, so I know he felt the same way toward me. He couldn't hide it if he wanted to. You know that yearning, don't you Aimée? "

Of course Aimée did, she had just been musing on it moments before.

"But this is wonderful news," said Aimée. "Why should it be reason for tears, unless..."

Aimée stopped, a horrible thought entering her head.

"Abby, you said something else. You said you had betrayed your best friend. Who is your best friend? Is it Jackie? Diana?"

"No Aimée," said Abby. "I know we have just known each other for a short while but it is you. I've never felt a friendship like ours. We are boon companions, no?"

"I felt like it," said Aimée, coldly. "But if I'm your best friend, how did you betray me? Abby, who is this boy you've begun to love? Who is it you yearn for? Who is this boy who also yearns for you?"

Abby could only lower her face and weep some more.

"Abby!" said Aimée sharply. "Who? Who was it?"

Abby raised her face and in a mere whisper --

"Claude."

Aimée removed her hand from Abby's and stood up, her countenance a thunderstorm of activity.

"I see," she said, coldly. "And when did this happen, this great romance? How did you steal his heart so quickly?"

"Oh Aimée, I knew you would take it this way -- but it wasn't a romance. It was as far from romantic as you can imagine. I don't know if it was because of the memories you shared with me -- but I was drawn to him instantly. But to be clear, it wasn't like I forgot Jacob. It was just like... like Claude took an equal place in in my heart, and I in his."

"And -- he was drawn to you. How exactly, my empath friend. How would he be drawn to you so quickly unless it was by your gift?!"

Aimée's tone was accusatory and venomous.

"You think I would have... Aimée! I would never use my powers to do such a thing. You should know that."

"How should I know that?" yelled Aimée. "I have just met you."

"But I shared my life with you. I showed you Jacob -- my most secret moments with him. You know me. You know me better than anyone could."

"How do I know you aren't just that clever?" asked Aimée. "How do I know you don't also have a brilliant imagination and concoct entire realities to draw people in?"

"How dare you!" shrieked Abby.

"Me? How do I dare? You are the slut, the whore who throws herself around -- stealing the hearts of lovers."

"It's your brother -- and if I remember correctly, you said you wanted to meet my brother, too."

"Meet him, not steal him with some sort of mind trickery."

"I have nothing else to say to you," screamed Abby.

"Nor I, you!" screamed Aimée.

Abby burst out of the door, pushing through several of their friends who had been trying to make out what was being said.

"Well," said Oppo, "at least Abby isn't sad any more. I suppose angry is better."

* * * *

Claude was floating -- literally. He was lying, perhaps six feet in the air with his hands behind his head. He had politely refused the advances of several young women who had approached him for some morning recreation after hearing reports of his prowess from Hannah. His needs were well taken care of for the moment, however.

"What's gotten into you?" asked Jacob, who also wore a smile on his face.

Jacob's recent partner had been Clara, a demure Southern Belle from Georgia who was anything but when the sun went down. She was one of the most infamous sunset sluts of their dorm, and anyone lucky enough to catch her eye at the nocturnal hour was fortunate indeed.

"I think I'm in love," sighed Claude.

"Already? Hannah is a sweetheart, that's for sure."

"No, not Hannah," said Claude. "She's wonderful -- but there's just something not quite there -- a connection I suppose you'd say. I never thought I'd feel it again after Aimée but now this girl comes along."

"Who?"

"A nurse. A nurse at the clinic with the most amazing red hair."

"Ah redheads," sighed Jacob. "You are lost for sure. Was she pretty in other ways?"

"Oh Jacob. The face of an angel, the voice of a siren, the body of a goddess."

"My, my, my," said Jacob. "You are smitten, and bad. Will you have the chance to see this redheaded nurse again?"

"I don't know -- but I intend to go straight to the clinic after classes and find out. Oh Jacob, what if she's already mated with someone else? I don't' know what I'll do!"

"Take it one step at a time, my friend. One step at a time."

* * * *

The Academy was located approximately fifty feet below Castle Clinton in the Battery. The advantages of the old fort were numerous. It had an interior which was uninhabited at night, allowing for outdoor combat practice which was both isolated from the outside and drowned out by the windy conditions and the sound of the waves on the waterfront.

It wasn't time, however, for combat. It was time for school, and Claude and Aimée rode separate pneumatic trains with great anticipation at this new adventure, regardless of their emotional state.

Aimée was the first of the two to arrive. As she entered the building, she was pleased to see Brana -- who pulled her aside.

"Hello Aimée, how has your first day been?" asked the willowy blonde.

"It's been... well, it's been an adventure, I must say."

"I'd imagine. Has our mother hen Abby been taking care of you?"

"I suppose you could say that," said Aimée, suddenly turning cold. "She has certainly gotten herself involved in my life."

"I see...well, I don't see -- but that sort of thing is between you. Oh, Claude!"

Aimée's brother had just appeared and came walking over toward Brana.

"Brana, I'm not supposed to see him," whispered Aimée -- stepping back behind a curtain.

"What? Ridiculous. Our colony here isn't large enough to have two Academies. You two are allowed to see each other on a social basis and here in school -- we just don't want you living under the same roof to avoid temptation. Following along those same lines you are of course forbidden from sneaking off with each other. I think we all know what activities you are to avoid... Claude! How wonderful to see you."

She hugged Claude warmly and pulled the two of them further to the side.

"Hello Aimée," said Claude, moving to hug his sister.

"Brother, it is pleasant to see you, I suppose," said Aimée.

She folded her arms and turned pointedly at an angle so she needn't look into his face. Brana took in the interchange with a knowing eye, but chose not to dwell on it at that specific moment.

"Listen, I know your heads must be reeling but I wanted to check in with you on an important topic. Have either of you mentioned your mother's former name to anyone?"

They both thought back and realized they hadn't.

"Good," said Brana. "You may hear many things but for now I need you to steer clear of even your own last names if possible. Above all else, avoid revealing to anyone that your mother was once known as Frederique La Teilière."

"But why?" asked Aimée.

"Probably for no reason," said Brana in a comforting tone. "A minor security measure, but for now it is easier for all for you to merely be Claude and Aimée, our new arrivals, and nothing more."

The two of them agreed and then were led by Brana into the Academy. Both of them had separate ideas in their heads about what they were going to see -- but the vision they both entertained in their heads had to do with rows of desks and chalkboards.

The classroom they entered had a chalkboard, upon which was written complex equations, but that was where the match between their expectations of going to a normal school and what the Academy was like ended. There were no straight rows of chairs, no strict bells to signal when classes began and ended.

There were large padded chairs, a few benches, and massive pillows strewn about the room. Classes started when the students arrived and ended when the teacher felt the lesson was learned. Greeting all of the students warmly was handsome man with piercing grey eyes and a short-cropped black beard. Brana led them straight to him.

"Jabir, my love," said Brana, kissing the man affectionately on the cheek. "These are our two newest students -- Aimée and Claude. I believe you received a communication of their arrival."

"I did indeed," said Jabir with a knowing look to the two of them. "As always, it is an honor to have new students. Simply find a place and we shall begin. I thank you Brana."

Though it was often a challenge to guess an Afflicted's age, there was no doubt from the wisdom in Jabir's eyes that he had seen many centuries on this earth.

Claude sought out a seat near Jacob, and then he gasped suddenly upon seeing a lovely redhead enter the room.

"Jacob, it's her," whispered Claude. "It's the nurse!"

"The nurse? Where?"

"There, in the red skirt."

"That's not a nurse, that's Abby."

"Yes, Abigail the redheaded nurse," insisted Claude. "What is she doing here? Is someone sick?"

"I am a bit," said Jacob in a stunned tone. "Abby is my sister. Do you remember the redheaded beauty I told you about?"

"Oh," stammered Claude, "Jacob, if I would have known I would have..."

"Forget it," said Jacob softly -- though his face belied some of the emotions roiling beneath the surface.

"Hey, who is that beautiful brunette who's shooting both of us daggers?" asked Jacob.

"That would be my sister," said Claude.

"Well, based on the looks she's giving me -- I don't think you need to fear me stepping into the same territory you have."

Claude was perplexed by Aimée's behavior since he'd seen her. It seemed even odder that she would be exhibiting such hatred toward Jacob as well. He was just about to confront her about it when Jabir stepped into the center of the room and began talking.

"Today, we have a special lesson," said Jabir once all of the students had arrived. "It is a lesson in one of the darkest times in the history of our kind."

Jabir laid the groundwork for the lesson, touching on stories Claude and Aimée had heard. He spoke of the first Colony on an island in the Mediterranean, to the subsequent foundation of the Council, to the times in the catacombs beneath Rome and Florence when they had lived in peace with the early Christians, and even been their allies. He followed on to the days in Petra, where an actual Colony had lived in the open -- the city in the rock allowing their kind to dwell with mortals both night and day, since the city was within the desert rock and no sun was let into the buildings carved below ground. Jabir painted the tapestry of their history with a deft brush and then arrived at the centerpiece of the lesson.

"Then, came the birth of Frederique La Teilière. That is a name you should remember."

Aimée gasped and Claude almost did the same.

"I see you've heard the tale," said Jabir with a smile. "It is a quite remarkable story, and all of it true."

Jabir proceeded to narrate the story which neither Claude nor Aimée had ever heard, but which was surprisingly similar to the one Frederique had told to Palo not a day before.

"And so," said Jabir, concluding his narrative, "Frederique took the life of the Weasel, Jacito, and that of her beloved husband in one blow. The saddest part of that chapter was the fact that there was no safety for Frederique, our savior. The binding to Jacito meant that his followers had nothing but hatred for the one who took his life. Frederique fled her homeland. Some say she perished, some say she has been in hiding ever since. Nobody but the most trusted Council members are privy to the truth. Some say she may be returning soon -- that the last of Jacito's ilk have finally been discovered.

"I heard something," said Diana. "Just yesterday I had dinner with my parents and they said someone had seen a glimpse of the great Frederique in the entry plaza."

"I heard the same thing," said Jabir slyly. "Though the story is as yet unsubstantiated. It did prompt me to refresh our memories of her tale. John, tell me, how would you discover a follower of Jacito?"

"Well," Johnny mused, "I'd use the blood test Galen devised."

"Very good," said Jabir. "An effective method, no doubt, and we are all still tested on a regular basis. But we can hardly check everyone every day. What other means? How else would you discover those who'd been taken?"

"Changes in behavior," said Oppo. "If they are obsessed with someone they'll do things differently. They'll stop going to the theatre, or attending their usual clubs; that sort of thing."

"It's like," started Abby... but then she stopped herself.

"Go on, it's like what?" prodded Jabir.

"I was just going to say; it's like they were in love. Take me, for example. If I was enlisted to seek people out I would try and sense people who were madly, head-over-heels in love. We get like that, don't we? When we're in love we can only think of that one person. But if that fixation had a biological basis it would be even stronger. I would first study someone who was in that first crazy manic love, and then I'd look for people with the same traits -- but magnified."

"Very good, Abby," said Jabir.

Jabir segued into more academic topics, but Aimée and Claude were reeling with so much information, especially having learned that their mother was the savior of their kind. After hearing that information, they weren't the best of students for the rest of the lesson.

For the mid-evening break, the cadets usually went back to the dorms since it only took a couple of minutes to get back. Quite often, the cadets would visit the dorm that they weren't staying in. However, the two brothers and two sisters had no choice but to go to their own dorms. They rode back in silence, especially Aimée and Abby who rode on opposite sides and ends of the train.

Both of them were...flummoxed, for lack of a better word. Aimée was angry at Abby for many reasons that she knew were irrational, but she didn't care. She was jealous, of course. She acknowledged that in herself. However, she was angry, in a way. She had been prepared to let go, to enjoy this time of freedom and simply enjoy sex for a while.

Abby's emotional betrayal had pulled her back into the vortex of swirling and confusing emotions.

Now, there was more to think about; her mother. Frederique... the great Frederique La Teilière. How on earth and why on earth had her mother kept this thing from her all this time?

As for Abby, the young redhead was wrestling with her own share of emotions: How could she long for both Claude and Jacob at such a deep emotional level? She had found such a good friend in Aimée, a kindred spirit and instant friend. In the heat of the moment, Abby was sure she had lost her friendship with the lovely brunette who already felt like a sister to her.

Both of them felt one thing, however, and that was longing. Abby's 'milking' session with Claude had certainly been wonderful but it still left the deep well of her body wanting. Oppo had been a true lust session, but with her mind in the wrong place.

Abby needed Afflicted companionship worse than usual on this day. This was probably due to the emotions surging about inside of her. Though her symbiote did not have an awareness of what she was thinking it certainly reacted to what she was feeling. If she was lonely, that certainly stimulated the afflicted cells within her body and made them want a companion all the more..

Aimée would have been satisfied with her morning romp with Johnny, but the angst raging inside of her seemed to unsettle her Affliction as well and it was calling to her -- begging her to seek out something to soothe her ragged nerves.
When they stepped into the dorm, Jackie had preceded them and she followed the usual custom of removing her dress and undergarments at the entrance and hanging them on a hook.

"What do you say, Abby? Are you going to join me again?" she asked.

"Well, I..."

"I will," said Aimée.

With a glare to Abby, Aimée began unbuttoning her dress. It was a challenge, of sorts -- an irrational, juvenile, immature challenge--but one which Abby rose to.

"Wonderful!" said Jackie, "If this keeps up, I'll have the whole dorm naked in less than a week.

There was the usual buzz in the lounge as the students wolfed down a mid-evening meal brought on by young metabolisms of any variety. The conversation, however, waned quickly as the three beauties walked into the room with nothing to hide; literally.

A couple of the boys whistled, and the other girls wore bemused expressions on their faces.

As for Aimée and Abby, they simply walked through with heads held high exuding a confidence neither one of them necessarily felt. It was more a case of not wanting to be shown up by the other. They grabbed some food and sat down at a table. The conversation among the others soon began again, though it was a bit more reserved and there was more than a little muttering about what was going on.

As the girls ate, they scanned the room. Jackie was usually more of a predatory lover, but Aimée and Abby were quickly learning that if one puts oneself out there -- one needs to be able to return the attention. Aimée found her eyes drawn the most to a shy, blond boy who kept stealing glances at her from a distant table. He was from the other dorm and she hadn't yet learned his name. Abby found her thoughts lingering on Vladislav, the boisterous Russian from their dorm with whom she had only shared a few kisses.

Once finished with her meal, Aimée cleared her dishes and crossed boldly to the blond and held out her hand.

"Aimée."

"Uhmm, Anders," said the shy Norwegian.

"Anders, I like that name. Would you like to go for a swim, Anders?"

Anders could merely nod and follow Aimée who had already started for the pool in the opposite wing.

"Care for a dip, Vlad?"

Vladislav jumped at the voice in his ear. While he had been watching the interchange between Aimée and Anders, Abby had crept up beside him.

"Absolutely," stammered the shocked Russian.

With a cute shrug of her shoulders, Jackie started for the pool as well.

"A swim sounds good, I think," she said to no one in particular. "Who'd like to join me?"

Three boys jumped up and started to follow her.

"Just one for this time, boys," she said, without even looking back. "We've only got half an hour -- no time for any sort of threesome or moresome fun."

The three boys looked to each other and gave the nod to Tony, the boy who had jumped up first.

Aimée and Abby were already in the pool when Anders and Vlad arrived and started to disrobe.

"Race?" suggested Aimée.

"I'd love to," said Abby. "Four lengths."

And they were off.

"Why do I feel like we're being used as pawns in some sort of argument," mused Anders.

"I think vee szhould hope they argue more often," mused Vlad in his Russian accent.

Aimée struck out with a smooth, swift stroke and was prepared to look back over her shoulder and see Abby lagging behind. She just didn't have the look of a swimmer and Aimée was confident she could beat the busty redhead easily.

Aimée was wrong. Since she had awakened, Abby had been overwhelmed with a desperate need to exercise. In part, the constant activity was a good way of shielding herself. One of the disadvantages of being an empath was being subject to the emotions of everyone around. Over time, she had learned to shield herself and focus her receptors, but in the beginning the buffer of the water around her head and the focus on her efforts in the pool had helped filter out the world. Some days she had spent four or more hours in the water. Even her blindness wasn't an issue. She had learned to sense the end of the pool drawing near and had mastered turning. She was more than a match for Aimée. The first length, Aimée led. The second, Abby overtook her and led through half way through the third length when Aimée caught up to her. For the remainder of the race, the two swam exactly parallel to each other.

Meanwhile, Jackie had settled into the water with Tony in the third lane and was kissing him feverishly, barely aware of the competition beside them. By the second lap, she was riding him in the water, making waves of her own.

Vlad and Anders, with nothing better to do, sat down with their legs in the pool at the end of the lanes where the girls who had brought them there were racing. The two girls touched the wall and looked up to them for the verdict.

"Tie," said Vlad.

"I concur," agreed Anders.

"Damn it!" cried Aimée. "One more. Down and back."

"Fine!" said Abby. "Anders, count us off."

"On your mark, get set, go!"

The girls blurred the water. Pushed on by the added strength and dexterity of the Affliction, they practically rose up out of the water from their speed. At the very last second, Aimée, with her more streamlined body pushed ahead -- touching the wall perhaps two hands ahead of Abby.

"Close," said Jackie, who had paused her activities to watch the end of the race. "But Aimée beat you, Abby."

"Ha!" laughed Aimée in triumph.

"Who cares," said Abby. "I'm here for other things."

Abby swam up between Vlad's legs. Though his member had lost a bit of interest, the sight of Abby, hair streaming with water and her breasts floating just on the surface was more than enough to bring him back to full attention.

"Hello there, Vlad," she said seductively.

"Hello Abby," he said in his thickly accented voice. "I like my view."

"Oh, so do I," she purred, "especially when seen from your eyes."

She stepped up to his stiff rod and kissed it lovingly.

The competition continued. Aimée had no choice but to do the same for Anders. Abby borrowed Anders' eyes and saw her 'competition' taking a surprising amount of his cock into her throat for one so new to lovemaking (she hadn't seen the memory of the lessons and tips from Frederique).

"Doesn't look like a bad idea," said Jackie. "Hop up there, Tony-boy."

Tony did as she suggested and Jackie called over to the two girls.

"First to make their boy pop like a champagne bottle is the victor."

"Good," said Aimée between strokes.

"Mmm hmm," hummed Abby, not wanting to even lose a second to speak in the race she had tacitly already begun.

The only sounds heard were the slurp of the girls' mouths on cocks, the moans of the boys as they were brought closer and closer to climax..

Tony really didn't have a chance, since he'd already been making love to Jackie in the water. He soon cried out and Jackie tipped back her head, letting him spray white streams over her face and chest.

"I win!" she cried, then dipped a finger into a large gob on her left breast to taste it, "in more ways than one."

The other two didn't care.

Abby had switched over to long, slow strokes -- swallowing hard to squeeze Vlad's cock with her throat when he was at his deepest. She knew the technique would soon reap rewards. However, she heard a different moan from Anders and sensed he was even closer.

Damn she thought to herself. I won't lose this one, too.

Using a technique she had only employed a few times, she quickly dove through Vlad's mind and found a recent lovemaking session that was fresh in his consciousness. With just a little twist she brought the moment of orgasm straight to the forefront of his mind and senses. Vlad had no choice in the matter and experienced what was in essence a double orgasm.

"Yes!" she cried, perhaps a little too enthusiastically, but she was the victor all the same. She allowed the first blast to fly through the air and splash across her chin (as proof) and then gobbled up the rest of Vlad's delicious cum as Anders cried out with his own climax.

Though Aimée had lost, she certainly wasn't going to neglect her partner. She held his cock a few inches from her mouth and waited for the first blast. Blast was an understatement -- the first stream shot straight to the back of her throat and made her practically gag, not from the taste but from the sheer volume of liquid. What she didn't know was Anders was another renowned stallion of the cadets and his volume certainly rivaled that of Claude. Another blast soon followed -- and Aimée found herself once again infected with a hopeless case of the giggles.

"Oh! Oh!! Ha ha! How amazing you are!"

She kept giggling and then stood taller and pushed Anders cock between her breasts, laughing and loving the feel of his warm eruptions coating her skin.

"What's so funny?" asked Anders, a bit self-conscious.

"Oh Anders," said Aimée, climbing out of the pool and giving him a big kiss. "Not funny, fun. "

"Well, I'm glad you had fun," said Abby, watching Aimée's joy with just a bit of resentment. "Call it the consolation prize for losing."

"Losing?" said Aimée. "I won the swimming."

"Very well then, we're tied," said Abby. "One more then?"

"Yes," said Aimée. "First of us to climax."

"Sounds good," said Jackie -- who knew she wasn't really part of the inexplicable competition, but was happy to tag along. "But we need rules. No hands, and no tongues down below. You have to reach it with just your partner fucking you and nothing else."

"As I said, we're just pawns in this fight -- whatever it's about," whispered Anders to Vlad.

"God willing they keep hating each other," said Vlad.

The girls led the boys to reclining lounge chairs by the pool and sat their partners down.

Aimée had great confidence she could win this one and settled onto Anders' already-recovered cock.

"Ooh that feels nice," she purred. "Now if you don't mind, let me do the work -- yes?"

"You're the boss," murmured Anders. "Clearly."

Aimée slid down to take all of Anders into her and then pushed her pelvis against him. Once he was nice and moist, she lifted back off of him and angled her hips to slide her clit against his stiff shaft.

"Perfect," she gasped as she found the ideal angle to rub herself against his stiff manhood. "Is this all right for you, too?"

"Oh, yes," said Anders.

Abby was also moaning in ecstasy as Vlad pummeled her from below. She knew it would not take long -- but suddenly she sensed the waves of pleasure coming from Aimée. Damn, she was still going to lose.

"That's -- chea -- ting!" she said between the slams of Vlad's cock into her.

"No -- hands," gasped Aimée.

Her eyes were already starting to roll back into her head.

Abby was furious and she riffed through her mind -- actually recalling an overwhelming orgasm she had seen in Aimée's mind.

"Take that, witch," she thought to herself as she opened the flood gates and cried out in ecstasy. Her fervor tipped over into Vlad as well and he poured himself into her.

"Damn!" cried Aimée, angrily, though she was soon to follow. By the time she was finished with her own orgasm and taken care of Anders, Abby had already walked to the kitchen to get something to drink and recover from her exertions.

"Too bad," she said when Aimée walked into the kitchen. "I know how much you wanted to win."

"I could have cared less about winning some ridiculous competition," said Aimée. "Honestly, I don't even know why we were doing it. However, regardless of the winner at least I didn't cheat."

"What?" said Abby, a cold tone creeping into her voice.

"You heard me."

"What? Do you think I faked it?"

"Oh, I know you weren't faking. I'd imagine half of this part of the city suddenly decided to go and find their partners when you had your orgasm -- the way you were emitting. No, I mean to say that you used your little mind tricks to push yourself over. It wouldn't surprise me if you did something like that with Claude, too."

"Pardon?" said Abby, her face flushing bright red in anger. "Do you mean to actually imply I would use my gift to best you in something as trivial as that?"

"I don't mean to imply. I state it outright. You were nowhere near, and suddenly you were full on. I saw the change in you -- and I felt it too. I felt the thought come on."

"Oh, now you are an empath."

"I didn't say that. What I meant to say is that you are a filthy, stinking, slutty, whore of a cheater who has to use her freakish gift to even gain an advantage in a childish game of sex. Who knows what trickery you inflicted on my poor brother."

"Aaahhhh!"

Abby jumped and was on top of Aimée in a second and the two naked girls were wrestling on the ground. With the levels of emotion running through the dorm, fights were not uncommon -- but it was generally the boys who were caught in a tussle.

It was Abby who landed the first blow -- a hard smack across Aimée's left cheek, leaving a clear handprint.

"Oh!" screamed Aimée. She ducked underneath Abby's next blow and landed a hard punch to Abby's chin, knocking her backward. There was an audible gasp of amazement at that -- and it would be later before Aimée would learn why. However, the blow did something to Abby. Where she had been enraged, she suddenly grew calm and frightening in a way.

"You'll pay for that," she muttered.

"Go on and try," growled Aimée.

Abby feinted and then let Aimée take another swing -- but the redhead suddenly wasn't there and had stepped aside to catch Aimée's forward momentum and throw her into a nearby table. Aimée dashed at her again. This time Abby wasn't fast enough and Aimée brought her to the ground, landing a vicious punch to Abby's nose which began bleeding profusely. Abby reached to Aimée's neck and raked a frightening gash from her neck down to above her right breast. Abby had just pushed Aimée off and was preparing her own assault when a loud and angry voice rang out.

"What in the hell is going on?"

The students turned to see Brana glowering from the entryway.

The crowd parted to reveal the two bloodied girls on the floor.

"Really?" she said, sadly. "Two of our brightest prospects and you behave this way? The rest of you, get back to class. Tell them I'll be along shortly with these two."

No one moved.

"Go!" she ordered.

The room was empty in less than a minute.

"Sit," said Brana in an authoritative voice that couldn't be ignored.

Both of the girls sat, side-by-side on a divan, but refused to look at each other.

"Now, which of you would like to explain such outrageous behavior?"

"She stole my memories and used them to seduce Claude," started Aimée.

"She didn't care at all about how I felt," said Abby.

And the two of them were off. Both of them talked at the same time and instead of stopping them, Brana sat calmly and listened to both at the same time.

I thought she was my friend/she took off her clothes first/I've never done anything like that, I wonder if she used her mind to trick me into taking Anders to the pool/I had no intention of falling in love with Claude/I was only trying to have some fun.

Finally, Aimée clapped a hand over Abby's mouth so she could get a word in by herself.

"She knows exactly how I feel about Claude; she's in the same predicament. So how could she do such a thing?"

Abby pushed Aimée's hand away and clapped a hand over Aimée's mouth.

"That's what I've been trying to tell her," Abby said, beginning to weep. "I am in the same predicament and I know exactly how she feels. I don't' know if things will go anywhere with Claude -- but the feelings happened all the same. How would she feel if she suddenly had feelings for someone else? It's destroying me Brana. It is absolutely destroying me."

Brana sat quietly for a little while, absorbing everything she'd just heard.

"Well," she began, "in terms of the spontaneous contest with the boys -- I don't have much to say, other than if you like -- I can show you some tricks that can bring a man to his destination faster than you can possibly imagine. However, with the situation between the two of you and your brothers -- I want to tell you a story of my own."

"When I was your age, I was in one of the first classes at the American Academy at Camp George. There were twelve of us including my sister and the love of my life, Blaine. Blaine and I knew before we even finished our education that we would petition to be bloodmates. I have never been in love like that before.

"Fate had a different plan for us. You see, we submitted our blood samples and there seemed something a bit odd. Galen himself did the approvals those days, and I'll tell you -- no one has ever been as intuitive as Galen in regard to matches. Oh, he had his science as well -- but when you have someone who can see into every cell in your body- and who has seen centuries of Afflicted history -- you tend to put your faith in them.

"So, after examining our blood, he put a hold on the approval. He spent a great deal of time and asked for a day or two to consider all of the variables.

"The next day, he called me into a private conference. He explained that the factor he'd been concerned about had proven to be true. He had discovered that we had a rare combination of blood types and it would be devastating if we took each other as mates. In truth, the words he used were far over my head -- but in the end it meant if we were to merge we would become a danger to ourselves and others.

"Put yourselves in my shoes. Imagine being told by someone that the love of your life, the first love of your life, was now forbidden -- all because of some science that only the Afflicted's finest mind can comprehend.

"We are in your shoes," said Abby, reaching out unconsciously to take Aimée's hand.

"True," said Brana, "but you knew from the start that your brothers were off limits. There was always a small part of your hearts -- even if it is tiny, that kept you from committing everything. Me, I had already surrendered everything. Body, soul, mind, heart -- they already belonged to Blaine. Oh, I tried to be stoic, play the poor sobbing victim of lost love -- but there was something growing in me -- something dangerous."

"Then came the day when I heard the news. Blaine had petitioned for another mate -- and his request had been accepted. The mate was my sister. My best friend in the world, and even more -- a person from the same parents. I couldn't comprehend how this could happen. We had the same blood, we came from the same family. Why shouldn't she be off limits as well? But no, Galen declared them a perfect match. Perfect. You might not know this, but my gift is that I'm a lifter. Give me a spoon or an elephant, it makes no difference to me -- I can put it where you want."

"What happened?" asked the girls, both of them enrapt.

"What happened is; I threw the most terrifying tantrum you can possibly imagine. I started with the furniture in my room and that wasn't enough, so I moved on to the doors. Soon I was outside and had toppled two buildings in my rage.

"In the end, it took three fliers and two deplaceurs to subdue me. I awoke the next morning... and I was sane again. Even more, I had a longing inside of me; a longing for someone else. Who it was, I wasn't sure -- but I knew the moment Roger walked in the door that he was my mate."

"They didn't!" said Abby, aghast.

"Oh yes, they did," said Brana, quite seriously.

"Did what?" asked Aimée, uncertain of what they meant.

"They subjected Brana to a forced union," said Abby. "When she was unconscious, they performed the blood rite with a mate they had selected for her."

"Exactly so," said Brana, "and in so doing -- they most likely saved my life. I was so in love with Roger, right away. You see, once your blood has joined, there isn't much choice. "
"But it's monstrous," insisted Abby.

"No," countered Brana, "it is science. I need you two to listen very closely to. The Council has a great duty laid upon them. The Affliction is dangerous in every one of us. We are gifted with stunning powers and abilities. We heal rapidly, we live for centuries -- and the only thing we give up in return is the sun. However, the very thing that gives us these gifts is also the thing that makes us most dangerous. The Affliction has no intelligence. It wants love, it wants sex, and it wants blood -- in that order. We live a highly structured life and choose our members carefully to be sure that our symbiote does not get the best of us."

Now, she took the girls' hands in her own.

"The two of you, are showing frightening signs of allowing such a thing to happen. Your little exhibition this afternoon was not an instance of two flighty young women being silly. It was two intelligent, powerful women of the Afflicted who let their minds be controlled by an organism swimming in their bloodstream. The day that you let your base instincts win over your behavior is the day that you may be forced to mate with someone against your will, if you are lucky. If you exhibit uncontrolled behavior to a great extent, you may just seal your doom."

"I will say one final thing -- once I was mated with Roger and I was back in control of my faculties, I was visited by my sister and Blaine. Upon seeing this beautiful, happy couple I had a sudden revelation. I loved Blaine, I still do. But looking back -- if I would have been generous...if I would have been human and not Afflicted -- I would have allowed reason to prevail. With reason, the first person I would have chosen for Blaine was my very best friend in the world -- who happened to also be my sister."

"I'm asking the two of you to consider the same. Who knows if this connection Abby felt with Claude is lasting or a momentary crush. However, as you move forward over the next few months -- do not look at your friends as rivals for the brothers you have come to love. View them as potential mates for your brothers. Who would you rather your brother take to mate, a perfect stranger, or your dearest friend in the world?"

The two girls looked to each other shamefaced and hugged in a fierce embrace.

"I'm sorry," said Abby.

"Don't be," said Aimée. "It was me who was being stupid and selfish. "

"Well... perhaps at first," said Abby, kindly. "But later it was me who was the child.

"Good, you are made up," said Brana. "And we actually have a chance to get you to the Academy without being too late. Aimée, do you remember what the Battery station looks like?"

"Of course."

"Perfect, get some clothes on and we'll deplace there with your help. It's so good to have a jumper in our midst."

* * * *

They were there in short order, and Brana bade them a fond, but stern farewell.

As they were walking into the Academy, Abby leaned in to whisper to Aimée.

"I have a confession to make."

"What's that, Abby?"

"I did cheat."

"You did?" said Aimée, amazed. "You actually triggered your own orgasm?"

"Yes," said Abby. "I helped bring Vlad's along, too."

"So you're saying you can bring on an orgasm at any time? In yourself or in others?"

"Yes," said Abby. "It was a shameful way to win, using my gift like that."

"Who cares about the stupid game," said Aimée. "I'm just excited to explore the possibilities."






CHAPTER 9



There was an older man sitting in a chair in a darkened room. He just sat, staring at the wall. He was dressed in his traditional toga, which he had worn since he had been a young man in Ancient Rome.

He appeared to be perhaps fifty years old -- but that was by choice. So powerful was his connection to his body, he could have willed himself to appear twenty years old, young and vibrant -- or just as easily he could have made himself look frail and decrepit from age. He had long ago settled on the appearance e of a middle-aged man with a touch of gray. Such an appearance seemed to always command a greater amount of respect due a doctor.

He was Galen, the great physician, and he was weary.

Having lived the better part of two millennia of life on this earth, he felt there was little left for him to see.

The last blow had been the loss of his mate, Sabina, lost to the Weasel. She had been his fifth mate in his very long life and she had been the most intelligent of the lot. Though he had soldiered on for a fair while after the war, her loss had eventually crippled him emotionally and sent him into an extended bout of melancholy from which there seemed no escape. The worst part of his malaise was the fact that he knew from a clinical standpoint what he was suffering from. However, in the same breath, he could not even muster the strength to treat himself.

He now spent his days in sleep and his nights in contemplation. He had an extremely rare gift among the Afflicted. With his deep knowledge of the human body, he was able to quell his body's symbiote in its sexual hunger. Somehow, he was able to communicate with the cells in his own body and suppress their desire for a mate.

While this kept him alive, it was still not healthy (as anyone among the Afflicted could attest). Though they certainly admired (and somewhat envied) his ability to abstain for long periods of time, they also knew that for an Afflicted to go even a month without sexual release would cause a horrible upset to one's system. Decades? Such a thing was unheard of, and it was a testament to Galen's remarkable gifts and constitution that he was alive at all.

Every sundown, a beautiful volunteer would appear with his Galen's dose. There had been many of these volunteers, each of them hoping to be the one to bring the great Galen out of his shell and into her bed. Every sundown, he would calmly take the vial and curse at the woman in languages few on the earth understood any more.

This day was different. Instead of the naked 'sacrifant', he looked up to see his two prodigies at the door. Madame Jeanne Villepreux-Power, and Louis Pasteur. Jeannie walked with the vigor of a healthy Afflicted. Pasteur walked with the weight of many years of intense study weighing on his mortal shoulders. Pasteur was yet to submit to the blood rite and become one of them. He had a few more years of 'daylight' research to conduct.

"Jeanne, Louis," said Galen, wryly. "To what do I owe this distinct honor?"

"Drink," said Jeanne, handing him a vial of blood. "We must safeguard Louis here even from you."

"Good god," muttered Galen. "You should know he is safe from me."

"We take no chances," said the woman. "You taught us that yourself."

"I suppose I did," said the ancient physician. "Here then, I'll drink it."

Once he had taken his dose, he looked to the two scientists for an explanation of their visit.

"Look at these," said Pasteur.

He held out two sealed vials of blood. They were oddly striated, with the liquid within in two distinct bands -- a lighter and a darker.

"So?" said Galen, not bothering to look any closer. "It is a mated pair. Good for them."

"But they are not mated," explained Pasteur.

"Related?"

"Siblings," explained Villepreux-Power.

"They have lain with each other, there can be no doubt," mused Galen. His attention was piqued more than he would like to admit.

"Oui," said the woman scientist. "Yet the bond is curious. Intense, strong, but not seemingly dangerous."

"Why should I care?" growled Galen. "Let them mate, then. If you see no danger -- grant it."

"If only it were so simple," said Pasteur. "We must also consider the lineage. These two... their genes are not to be toyed with lightly."

"Who are they?" grumbled Galen.

"See for yourself," said Jeanne, handing him the vials.

"You just love seeing me do my little party trick," huffed the ancient physician. "Here, here, give them to me."

He held the samples, one in each hand. The cells were still very active, which was not unusual. The blood of the Afflicted was particularly resilient and could live for over a day outside of the body, should conditions allow.

"Very good," he said. "Yes, they long for each other. Just look at the way the cells have migrated to the side of the vial closer to that of their companion. Good, good. The boy is a flier. The girl is... a deplaceur. How fortuitous. Both are strong with the imitative function -- yes. If these two mated, they would likely take on some of the gifts of the other. A jumping flyer, not a bad set of skills. All good."

"But look who they are," insisted Villepreux-Power.

Galen closed his eyes and allowed his consciousness to zoom in even further. His consciousness was soon dodging in and out among the cells.

"The father," he murmured in his concentration. "Not Afflicted-born. Good. Always good to enhance the gene pool. Tunisian? No. Southern Spain? No. Moroccan! There it is, a Moroccan father of good stock. He obviously passed on some wonderful strengths to them. Now for the mother... the mother was Afflicted, and..."

Galen's eyes popped open in surprise.

"She's returned?" he said, his voice indicating the first excitement either of the two scientists had heard in over a decade.

"Oui," said the two others at once.

Jeanne continued.

"Following your protocols, the Council feels assured that last of the Weasel's victims have been found and eradicated. They gave her permission to join the greater population once more."

"And these are her children?" exclaimed Galen.

They nodded.

"By god, why hadn't someone told me?" he cried, standing up. "No wonder the daughter is a jumper. Small miracle one of the children wasn't born with skills none of us had ever heard of. Where is she? Where is Frederique?"

The transformation in the great doctor was so marked, it would have been comical had it not been so welcomed by the two scientists. This was just what Galen had needed, the shot in the arm that would finally re-energize him.

"New York," said Pasteur.

"Wonderful. Wonderful news," said the legendary physician. "I've not been to Manhattan in some time. I must go there. Tomorrow. No, the next day. No, I need a few days of course. I've much to prepare. I need your notes -- all of them. I've not been following your research for a while. I must see what you've come up with. Proceed cautiously with the children until I arrive and have a chance to examine them directly.

"Very good," said Villepreux-Power, trying to suppress a smile.

Pasteur lingered a bit.

"Docteur, since we do have your attention -- there is one other case we would like to bring to your attention."

"Of course, of course," said Galen, spryly. He himself was surprised at the sudden change in his body.

"It is the matter of Abigail Dumont."

Galen searched through his dim memories -- seen as if through a fog because of his long depression.

"Abigail... Abigail. I'm trying to remember what you said. Stuck with her brother, yes? Awakened in a safe house and isolated?"

"Yes," concurred Pasteur. "Her brother's gift is invisibility."

"Such a rare gift," said Galen admiringly.

"Yes, but it is Abigail who has raised some concern," said Villepreux-Power. "Her gifts are...well, I've worked with her. Her gifts are astounding."

"Remind me," said Galen.

"She is an empath, Galen," said Pasteur. "But not your 'ooh, someone is sad' sort of empath. She is unlike any seen in many generations."

"How powerful?" asked Galen with some concern.

"We still have no idea. She grows more powerful by the day. Mind control. Memory recall and transfer. Every day at the academy she brings another surprise"

"Is she mated yet?" asked Galen, a hint of concern growing in his voice.

"No," said Villepreux-Power.

"Is the Council aware of her?" asked Galen.

"Dreadfully," said Pasteur. "She is all the talk in the chambers of Reykjavik. They fear she could be another clockmaker."

A great sadness passed through Galen's eyes.

"Christophe was a dreadful tragedy," said Galen. "But avoidable. If that damned deplaceur would have kept still..."

"But he didn't," said Pasteur sadly. "Over a thousand of your kind were lost in one night because of the clockmaker's frightening power. The council fears young Abby could pose the same threat. Once she undergoes the blood rite and comes into her full power, there's no telling what she'll be capable of."

"I understand," said Galen somberly. "Bring me her files. Bring me a fresh sample as soon as you can. Make no changes in their living arrangements -- none of them -- neither pair of siblings. Not until I can review the files."

The two physicians agreed and left to retrieve what Galen had requested.

Galen was practically skipping about his quarters. Suddenly, just like that, he was engaged and enthusiastic about life again. He wrote down a few notes on the circumstances around his 'recovery', intending to analyze the variables later. He stopped now and again to examine the contents of the vials with his phenomenal gift. He tried to make sense of the fascinating properties in the blood of Claude and Aimée. This was a new challenge, at last. What to do with them? How to find them proper mates?

For over half a century, the mind of the great Galen had been asleep. He was awake once more.

With this new vigor, other stirrings were inevitable.

Outside of Galen's chambers was a young (for the Afflicted) girl named Colette. She had been coming to Galen's chambers for the past five years, ever since losing her first mate. She satisfied her hungers among the many council guards posted around the great blood bank. As a woman possessed of a keen scientific mind, she hoped her equally impressive physique might be the key to revive the Afflicted's greatest mind.

Her heart fluttered in excitement upon hearing, for the first time in her long vigil, the door of Galen's room open from the inside.

"Hello young lady?" said Galen. A fierce spark burning in his eyes as he examined the curves well-evident beneath her robes.

"Bonsoir, Monsieur Galen?" she said, all the while fighting to keep her voice calm.

"My dear, I know you have introduced yourself many times -- but I have been in something of a funk. Would you mind telling me your name again?"

"Colette," whispered the young scientist, barely able to speak.

"Colette, a lovely name," said Galen. "Would you mind stepping inside please?"

"Absolutment, Monsieur."

The young, buxom blonde stepped into room and had to fight to keep her knees from buckling. For the first time the great doctor was fully focused. As soon his eyes fell upon her, she understood why she had waited with this duty for so long. Every girl who had stood this watch had hoped to have this same gaze fall upon her. There were some women who were seduced by muscles. Others who were infatuated with good looks. Yes, there were still others who judged the value of a man by the size of his member. Colette fell in the other category, those who were most attracted to a man's mind. Among the Afflicted, there was no greater mind than that of Galen. Just one night with Galen was all she wanted (though she certainly hoped for more). Now, with his eyes bright and alert, she understood why she had waited. His presence was awe inspiring. Here was a man who had studied every cell in the body, every creature on the planet... and right now, his attention was focused on her.

"Come here, my dear," he said, gesturing for her to enter his chambers, which she did as though hypnotized.

"Colette, I have a bit of a problem?"

"What is that, Docteur? "

"Disrobe, please, and then sit," said Galen, patting the leather examining table that he was standing next to.

Colette was trembling, but she willingly let her lab coat fall from her shoulders and slowly unveiled her abundantly nubile body to the doctor, then hopped upon the table.

"Very good," said Galen in a low rumble. Try though he might, his body was in control now. Over five decades it had been denied and the ancient physician knew that it would be another organ besides his brain doing the talking for this evening.

"You see, Colette, I've decided to rejoin the land of the living, so-to-speak. As such, it has been a long while since I have examined a patient and I fear I'm out of practice. Can you help me re-familiarize myself with the human form?

Colette sighed, barely able to stop herself from leaping atop the doctor's body at that very moment.

"Yes, doctor," she whispered. "Anything. Anything for you."

"Good, such a helpful girl."

Girl was a fascinating term in this setting. Colette was certainly a great beauty, but she was also one of the most promising minds among The Afflicted. She was also young, only twenty-eight. Compared to Galen, that was indeed a girlish age. Lastly... she certainly felt like a girl. As confident and accomplished as she was in other arenas; here, in front of the great Galen, she was reduced to the equivalent of a giggling schoolgirl, and she didn't mind in the least.

Galen put his hand directly upon her left breast and she trembled with excitement. Her ample breast filled his hand and then some, but he could already feel her beating heart beneath his palm.

"I am a bit out of contact," said Galen in a low, seductive voice. "But let's see what I can discover about you."

He closed his eyes and concentrated... though still caressing her breasts slowly.

"Ah, I should have known who you were sooner," he said with a smile. "Your mother was Kristine Muller and was born in Bavaria in the late fifteen hundreds. Your father was... hmm, interesting. Your mother was mated to Molner Prestiva of Italy, yet I don't detect his strain within you."

"No," said Colette with a blush. "When I was selecting a bloodmate it was discovered that I must have been conceived at the wedding celebration. My biological father was the best man..."

"Benedict Moore," said Galen.

"Why yes, how did you... oh, of course," she said. "As my mother told it, there were three couples who entered the bedchamber on her wedding night and they umm... traded off frequently."

"Of course, of course," said Galen. "Not unheard of... not advisable, but still, you turned out well. Very well."

"Thank you, doctor," she sighed as his hand kept massaging her breast and his other wrapped around her waist. He was now standing between her legs and his face was inches from hers.

"What... what else can you see, doctor?" she stammered.

"What else now... you are, twenty-six, I believe. You awoke at nineteen... your bloodmate is dead, I'm sorry about that my dear, I know the pain that brings. You mated at twenty-one and he must have died within a year or so of your mating, damned shame. You have been laying with many men to appease your hunger, but there are three who you choose most often."

"No, that's all right, doctor," she moaned.

He was touching her, but not in an overt sexual fashion. Yes, his hand was caressing her breast, but not too aggressively. His hand on her waist was also seemingly 'innocent'. Yet, his touch had set her afire unlike anything she could remember. Though Galen could not alter cells in the way that the clockmaker had, he could influence them through his touch... and that was just what he was doing at this moment. Though he could accomplish such a thing deliberately, at this moment he was doing it unwittingly. Her nervous system was lighting up like a firework as his mind pushed and pulled, and explored... and each of those pushes was now stimulating her erogenous system.

"Doctor, I am... I am quite helpless, I'm afraid," she murmured. "I don't know what you are doing, but I feel I may explode, good sir."
"We can't have that now, can we?" said Galen. "We will proceed with our examination."

He lifted his toga and her hand slipped down to feel what was there.

"Mon Deux!," she gasped upon feeling what was waiting for her there.

She gasped at the first touch of his her fingers on his rock hard member. Having him in her hand caused her pulse to race. The nerves in Galen's cock practically sang to her own skin. It was so rigid, too -- each vein practically popping out, and each heartbeat bouncing beneath her fingers.

She groaned as she placed him at her silky opening and felt him slide in the first few centimeters.

"Mmm... now I can see you even better," said Galen as he unraveled his toga and let it fall to the floor.

It was true... now that he was so intimately connected to her, it was as though he could sense every tiniest cell within her body.

He pulled her into a rough kiss and then growled. "I will do my best, my dear, to control myself -- but I must warn you that it may be rough."

"Good," whimpered Colette. "I look forward to it."

On the word 'rough', Galen had pushed his full and impatient length into her.

Decades of waiting stored inside. Decades of a beast suppressed. Colette indeed had a long, heavenly, but athletic night in store.

Galen began to thrust slowly into her and she knew she was lost. Galen's lovemaking was legendary among the Afflicted. He understood every cell, every nerve in the body. It was said that when he had sex with a partner it was as though he was not only inside of her pussy, but inside of her head and every crevice of her body.

That was how it felt to Colette. Every stroke of his frighteningly stiff cock felt like it was massaging every part of her frame. Unbidden, her first massive orgasm arrived just a few minutes after the started. The table top was of the finest leather and her fingernails clawed lines into the surface as she tipped back her head in a silent scream.

"Please... doctor," she finally gasped. "Please, fill me."

"Very well," he said. "It will be the first of many."

He thrust into her several more times and then he pulled her tightly into his body, her large breasts crushed against his chest.

As she felt gush after gush pouring into her tight interior, she knew there was even more. Once her silky cavern was full, she slid off of him and dropped to the floor.

"More, doctor, more!" she cried.

The years of stored seed kept coming and she drank it hungrily as it kept pumping out. When she couldn't even take that, she aimed his beautiful member over her breasts and let it keep spurting until the last of it was gone.

"Sorry it was so much," he said with a wry smile.

"Oh, doctor," she moaned. "It only served to make me more hungry and thirsty. Come to the bedroom so I can get my fill once again."

* * * *

The battle ring in the academy would be familiar to any warrior from any generation. A hard earthen floor, weapon racks around the edge, and all of the usual trappings.

Thanks to Aimée's deplacing ability, they had been able to make it just in time. Aurelius Scaurus brooked no tardiness.

Scare-us as he was widely called, was one of the most feared yet respected among all of the Afflicted. He had trained nearly every swordsman in their ranks and his knowledge spanned all the way back to the times of the Gladiators. The Afflicted had actually recruited him away from the Romans.

"You just made it, girls," he said with a raised eyebrow. The clock had tolled as they fell in.

"Tonight," he said, "we will have a slight change in usual order of things. You have two new students in your ranks. It would be best to begin by determining their skills. Tournament time. Since we have 31 current students in the Academy, Abby will get a reprieve in the first round. I will choose opponents. Grab a weapon and wait until your name is called. Standard rules apply. First blood denotes winner. No torso or head blows. Any blow must be delivered within or directly above the circumference of the battle ring.

The stoic guardswoman, Bullet, stood at Scaurus' side. Bullet crossed to a nearby chalkboard and drew out a simple bracket to track the winners.

"Aimée and Anders," shouted Scaurus.

Aimée had to suppress a blush as she walked into the ring. She couldn't help but wonder if Bullet of their very recent tryst. Whether he did or not, she and Anders were soon saluting each other with their blades and taking guard.

Whatever Anders' skill was, it wasn't flying but he was a very competent swordsman. He moved with the fluid grace of a dancer, but that didn't mean he wasn't a threat. Aimée was hard pressed to ward off his blows which came in almost fluid-like attacks. She was bound and determined not to use her gift for as long as possible. Twice, she was nearly forced to wink out but was able to parry Anders' sword. At last she saw an opening and lunged in. Surprisingly, he actually turned the wrong direction and instead of the mere nick she had intended, the blade sliced across his forearm and ended with a sickening ccrchhh sound as the blade sliced clear to the bone.

There was a universal gasp from the group as Anders turned white and pale from the immediate shock. Abby came running to his side and examined the cut with concern.

"Oh dear," exclaimed Abby. She placed her hand on his face and was stopped very quickly by Scaurus.

"None of your healing, young lady," he said sternly. "You're still fighting tonight and need your energy."

Abby turned and batted her eyes pathetically.

"But it's a two-day wound, Master Aurelius" pleaded Abby. "Can't I please help, just a little?"

"Young lady," said Scaurus without missing a beat. "I've had pretty young things trying to work their wiles on me since before your Great-great-great-great Grandmother was even born; girls with siren-like gifts, pure beauties, and even other empaths. None of their doe-eyes or accidental cleavage or anything else ever worked -- and neither will this. Let him bleed and learn his lesson."

Abby stamped her foot and crossed away.

Aurelius turned to Anders.

"As for you, my Scandinavian friend -- I'd like to remind you that pretty blondes with big tits are waiting for you in Valhalla. Save your weakness for them. While you're on this planet, treat all foes the same, bosoms or otherwise. Understood?"

Anders nodded and scuttled over to a bench to recover.

"You know," whispered a voice in Aimée's ear. "If I knew it was you waiting for me in Valhalla, I would willingly give up my life."

Aimée rolled her eyes and turned to face Jacob, the owner of the smarmy voice.

"That would be a shame," she said, scathingly. "Because I would be the one making you fetch me mead up in heaven -- not the other way around."

"Which I would gladly do," said Jacob without missing a beat.

"Oh my god," said Aimée in disgust. She turned her back on him once more and walked to the other side of the arena -- wanting to stay away from the boy she'd found arrogant and presumptuous since first laying eyes on him.

It was the perceived presumption that annoyed her. To Aimée, it felt as though Jacob knew she had experienced sex with him (by way of sharing Abby's memories). In her mind, it felt like he was assuming that because Claude had found this instant connection to Abby that Aimée would reciprocate in the same fashion with him.

She could also tell that he knew he was charming and attractive, in an offbeat way. It might have been her imagination, but it felt like he was just assuming she would sleep with him.

Next up in the fighting were two fliers who acquitted themselves well. Next, came Jackie against a boy from the other dorm. Jackie had an unusual style of sword fighting, using two blades -- one long and one short (much like Frederique). She did so with surprising dexterity and dispatched her opponent with ease, not even needing to use her flying skills. Aimée took note to take care if she ever had to fight the aggressive young woman.

Next came Claude against Oppo. By appearances, it would seem Claude would win easily but as soon as Scaurus blew the whistle to start - Oppo flew into the air as though flung by a catapult. Shocked, Claude followed him and was at an immediate disadvantage with Oppo constantly maintaining an advantage of height or distance.

There was no doubt that Claude had the stronger sword arm -- but that meant little when balanced by Oppo's superior flying skills. His tactics involved always staying just out of reach -- then darting in at the last moment for a strike.

Still, Claude acquitted himself well and their battle was the longest of the night so far. Five, then ten, then fifteen minutes passed. At last, Oppo seemed to tire and Claude moved in closer to engage. It was then that Oppo showed his clear superiority in the air. Just as Claude thought he was delivering the winning blow, Oppo spun and twisted on the vertical axis. This left Claude foundering in the air and suddenly at a great disadvantage as he attempted to parry blows from angles he had never even imagined.

After a blinding exchange, Oppo flitted to the right slightly and Claude's blade darted toward Oppo's unguarded arm. However, in his excitement, he failed to notice Oppo's own blade surging toward him. Both young men cried out in pain at the exact same moment -- with matching wounds in their left shoulders.

As Claude descended to the ground holding his bleeding arm, he realized two things. One, he had mountains to learn about aerial fighting. Two, his mother had been going incredibly easy on both he and his father. If Claude could be bested by a mere twenty-year old, he couldn't imagine what his six-hundred year old mother could accomplish -- or others with similar experience.

"Let's have a look," said Scaurus.

He crossed over to the two youths and examined the wounds in their shoulders.

"Well Oppo," he said. "I'd usually call this a tie, but since part of the purpose of this is to see our new students in combat, would you mind sitting this out?"

"I concede," said Oppo with a gentle smile. "His flying technique needs some work -- but by god I've never seen a faster sword arm."

The next round proceeded, and it came time for Abby to fight.

"I hate fighting," she whispered to Aimée as she picked up the short sword and chain she had chosen as weapons.

"I'd imagine," whispered Aimée in return. "To have to fight when you're blind; that's terrifying."

"Oh, I'm not scared," said Abby with a grin. "I'm bored, mostly. Plus, I don't like hurting people."

Bored? Mused Aimée as the curvaceous redhead took to the sand. She was fighting Victor, a mammoth boy from their dorm who was visibly shaking in fear.

"How will she win?" asked Claude in wonder to Jacob.

"How won't she win?" replied her brother. "Abby's been champion for three months now. No one can touch her, even when she doesn't cheat."

"How does one cheat in this?"

"Oh, it's not really cheating," said Jacob. "All use of gifts are allowed but Abby's advantages are so frightening, she rarely uses even a fraction of what she can do."

"How?" asked Claude.

"Just watch."

"Now, you know I won't hurt you very badly if I can help it," said Abby reassuringly to Victor.

"I know," muttered the huge boy. "But it doesn't make it any easier."

Victor circled Abby warily. Oddly, Abby made no move to face him. After perhaps two minutes of this -- Victor screamed and made a sudden lunge.

He could have been as swift as a rattle snake but it would have made no difference. Abby was gone before he even began moving and nearly everyone couldn't help but gasp in wonder as Abby knelt, pushed the chain over her head in a loop to wrap round Victor's wrist, and threw him to the ground -- all in a fraction of a second.

Her sword was just as quickly at his throat.

"Good enough, Master Scaurus?"

Scaurus nodded, a grim smile on his lips.

"How did she do that?" wondered Claude.

"She reads minds," said Jacob. "Imagine how difficult that would be. To fight someone who knows what you are planning before even you do."

"What's wrong with her eyes?" asked Claude -- who had noticed Abby's slightly odd stare for the first time.

"I'm blind, big boy," said Abby who was walking past. "But that doesn't mean I don't see things I like."

Jacob looked at the two of them with a curious expression. Claude had confessed to Jacob that he'd fallen for Abby. Knowing Abby as well as he did, Jacob couldn't help observing that there was more in her words than mere flirtation. There had been a different sort of glow on her face when she'd been near Claude. For the first time, he knew that Claude really was something special to his sister. He did his best to make peace with that.

Jacob was soon called to the ring and easily bested his first opponent -- a mousy girl from their dorm whose skills were in the sciences. She never even got a blade near him after he winked out. Within moments, he pinked her forearm gently from concealment, causing a wound that healed before they even left the ring.

A round later, Claude's shoulder had healed. He and Jacob looked at each other with amusement when Scaurus called out their names as opponents.

The two friends crossed to the weapons rack and examined their choices. Claude's eyebrows raised in concern when he saw Jacob grab a belt filled with throwing knives. He could certainly hover high out of reach -- but not indefinitely. Claude decided to keep his sword, but knew he needed other tools to have any hope.

His answer came from an unexpected place. Much like there would have been in Scaurus' time, there was a water bucket at the edge of the ring with a ladle for drinking. He grabbed it and carried it with him to the ring.

"What?" said Jacob, amused. "Do you plan on staying up there so long you get thirsty?"

"Something like that," said Claude with a grin.

While many of the students were laughing at Claude's odd choice, there seemed to be an air of approval on Scaurus's face as he blew the whistle.

Claude quickly ascended to a place high over the ring, all the while facing downward. Soon enough, a throwing dagger appeared out of nowhere -- sailing quickly toward him and barely giving him time to bat the flying blade away with his sword.

"Christ, he's got an arm," Claude muttered to himself as he sailed even higher. Another two daggers flew toward him, but the distance gave him an advantage and he was able to dodge quickly when he saw them emerging from his invisible opponent.

"One chance," he mused to himself. "Better make this count."

Watching where the next blade came from, Claude dodged, then tossed the contents of the bucket into the air. Taking the swing of a batsman, he swung the flat of his blade into the largest bulk of the water -- obliterating it to droplets. At the same moment, he threw the bucket toward the ground and then dove at a frightening rate to take a kneeling, guarded position on the ground.

He watched and listened intently. Jacob wasn't moving -- which was good. Moments later, the first droplets arrived. Claude's senses were more heightened than he ever remembered. He listened intently -- but also watched for what he hoped he would see.

"There," he thought to himself, as the silhouette of a man emerged just to his right -- around three meters away. The figure's arm was drawn back for a throw.

He dove to the left, just avoiding the knife which followed, then sprang as fast as he could, flying swiftly to where Jacob should be.

Claude tackled the invisible figure and struggled to find the arms -- knowing his only hope was in pinning them down. Yes, he had the right arm. However, Jacob twisted out of the way with his left and Claude grasped about in a panic.

It was too late. He suddenly felt a searing pain in his thigh, where Jacob had buried his knife.

"Sorry, my friend," said Jacob. He reappeared at the same instant he pulled out the knife.

"Don't worry about it," said Claude, taking the hand Jacob offered to help him up. Jacob kept Claude's hand in his and pulled Claude's arm around his shoulders, helping Claude limp off the field.

"Is it very bad?" asked Jacob.

"No," said Claude. "It was clean in and out, no slash. I'll be better in less than half an hour."

"Well done, you two," said Scaurus, offering rare praise. "Not that we have points, Claude -- but if we did you would have some extra ones for ingenuity."

Aimée's turn came again. This time it was against a girl named Diana from their dorm. She was aptly named, for she chose bow and arrow as her weapon. She was also a flier. She chose the same technique as Oppo and sailed with frightening speed into the air. As Aimée saw her opponent drawing her bow she realized it was time to reveal her skill and give up the element of surprise she'd been hoping for in later rounds.

It was none too soon. No sooner had Aimée relocated to the other side of the ring than the arrow went plunging into the sand precisely where her legs had been.

"Jumper!" was the phrase whispered by the students with great excitement. It was a rare occasion to meet a deplaceur, let alone have the occasion to battle one.

Diana adjusted quickly, however -- and Aimée was soon winking in and out at a rate of one jump per second.

At first she thought she would have the advantage of exhausting the other girl's quiver -- but she noted with chagrin that there were actually armament shelves placed higher up in the ring for the fliers. She had only a brief respite before Diana had grabbed another quiver and was firing once more.

It suddenly occurred to Aimée that there had been no rules placed on staying within the ring -- merely that the winning blow had to be struck somewhere within the imaginary cylinder of the ring.

She blinked out and found herself at the transport station outside of the dorm. Taking the moment to catch her breath, she devised a plan. Closing her eyes, she pictured the ring in her mind. Then, she visualized the space above it and 'whumphh' she was there, and falling.

She had intended on appearing perhaps one hundred feet above Diana in order to mask the sound of her deplacing. Once in the air, it was clear she had drawn a poor picture in her mind. She was not one hundred, but over one thousand feet above the ring.

She had practiced such things with Claude before, falling freely through the clouds above the ocean. They had learned that if one pulled their hands to their sides and aimed straight down, it was possible to change directions with tiny gestures. Of course, in those times she'd had Claude to fly her away.

She was barreling downward and smiled upon seeing Diana still aiming down toward the ring with her bow.

By the time Diana heard the whistle of air through Aimée's clothes it was too late. Aimée swooped past the archer, cutting a light gash in the girl's leg and at the same moment winked out.

She reappeared in the place she had done so often -- with Claude. All eyes were still watching the sky and no one even saw her as she materialized, wrapped sensuously around him... all from reflexive instinct. He looked down to her and blushed. She patted his cheek and gave him a light kiss on the lips.

Next, she stepped away and walked into the ring. Her appearance was met with enthusiastic applause as people saw her. She stood in the center and waited to greet her defeated opponent who was sinking shamefacedly to the ground.

"Sloppy work," said Scaurus to Diana. "Even if you knew she couldn't fly, that's no excuse for not guarding in all directions. In a real battle, I've seen jumpers drop fliers in exactly the same fashion. Well done, though, Aimée. You're also in luck, for we have Bullet here to instruct you."
The next two rounds were both depressing and exciting. Depressing for the other opponents, for none of them had any clue on how to defeat Abby or Aimée.

Jacob was actually one of Abby's victims.

"Good luck," muttered Claude to his tall, ginger companion.

"I don't have a chance," said Jacob. "She's further in my head than you can imagine and the damned girl is blind, to boot. What does it matter if I'm invisible?"

Jacob's words rang very true once the whistle was blown. As they watched Abby parry an invisible companion, they couldn't help but laugh upon seeing her grab her unseen opponent and flip him around. Jacob soon appeared, his head stuck between Abby's thighs, her dagger poised above his head.

"Good?" she asked of Scaurus.

"Fine," said Scaurus, shaking his head in frustration. "Never in all my days -- and that's a lot of days -- never, did I think a blind girl would be my most frightening fighter. And, she doesn't even care that she is."

Abby shrugged and flashed a Scaurus a cute grin, which exasperated him even more.

The most awe-inspiring demonstration was Abby's match against Jackie in the semi-finals. Abby had defeated her other opponents by simply out-moving the blows she knew were coming. However, her strategy against Jackie gave evidence of the young empath's frightening abilities.

The whistle blew -- and Jackie froze. She stood there, unmoving and unblinking. Abby calmly walked beside the statue-like girl and placed a poniard to her lovely neck.

"Victory, Master Scaurus?"

"Yes," said Scaurus with a sincere nod. "But you must tell us how you did it?

"She slowed things down," said Jackie -- who Abby had quickly released. "All the world stopped and then she moved at lightning speed and was there at my throat.

"But she didn't," protested Diana. "We all watched. She moved normally."

"Not to Jackie," explained Abby. "I slowed down her perception of the world to a snail's pace. Simple."

To the group, it wasn't so simple. It was a dazzling display of their friend's power.

Next, Aimée made quick work of her foe. The two friends realized they were fighting each other for top honors in the ring.

"What the hell," said Abby, resignedly. "We already fought each other once today. We might as well do it right."

"Agreed," said Aimée.

Aimée knew she had little time. Abby would most likely play by the rules, and that meant she wouldn't use her powers until the whistle blew. Aimée steeled herself and as soon as the first tweet sounded, she whisked away -- again to the platform.

It was lucky she did. Already, she'd felt Abby's mind reaching out. It was smoke she'd seen. Abby had intended on blinding her with illusions of smoke in Aimée's mind -- making it impossible for her to see. Aimée shook her head to clear the visions, and gave thanks that Abby's gift worked better with closer proximity to the person. She pictured Abby in her mind, standing patiently in the ring. Determining a strategy, she brought all of her attention to focus.

In.

She materialized not more than two feet from Abby. She thrust quickly, but already Abby's amazing mind detected Aimée's intentions and dodged out of the way. Instantaneously, Abby's mind was reaching out -- this time with the idea that Aimée's legs were stuck in thick mud.

Out.

Aimée was back again at the platform, away from Abby's grasping mind.

In.

Aimée sent out a thrust, missed, and tried to block the mental assault from Abby. This time, it was a gigantic eagle swooping in toward her.

Out.

Peace again.

Aimée tried several more times, but she saw that it was futile. She would never beat Abby in a direct assault, her friend's mind was too strong.

Aimée contemplated what she could possibly do. Suddenly, a memory came to her. She remembered all of the times Claude had taunted her when they were children. When he had descended to his most cruel she had simply plugged her ears and shouted out nonsense as loud as she could. Since she hadn't been able to silence him, she'd had to drown him out.

That was it! She realized the key to Abby's power was in control. The empath controlled her opponent's minds. Even when she wasn't doing that -- she tapped into their thoughts and was able to counter any sort of attacks.

What if there were no thoughts? What if there was no coherent attack? Abby could do many things, but she couldn't manage confusion. If nothing was logical, she would have nothing to hang onto.

Aimée marshaled her thoughts. She closed her eyes and began singing her favorite nursery song from her childhood.

"Frere Jacques, Frere Jacques..."

Keeping her eyes closed, she envisioned herself materializing in the ring near Abby.

In.

"Dormez vous, Dormez vous!"

Aimée's eyes were still closed. She was thrusting about with no plan whatsoever, making horrible sloppy slashes.

Clang. Her sword bounced off of Abby's sword.

Suddenly, Abby was back in her mind -- following the trail of the nursery rhyme and trying to latch onto it to control Aimée's thoughts. Aimée switched.

"La la la! Blah blah, blah!"

The strategy worked, Abby was unable to grasp ahold of anything concrete in Aimée's mind. However, her attempt to control Aimée was almost like someone shouting out their name in blind man's bluff. By following the path of Abby's mind, Aimée could tell with 'hotter' or 'colder' how close Abby was.

More slashing, more unplanned thrusts. Abby's sword arm was strong enough and she had that uncanny ability of some people who are blind. Without her eyes, her other senses had grown more acute. By sound, Abby was able to block several of Aimée's attempts -- but only for so long. After several intense moments, Aimée felt the sickening 'squish' which she knew so well. She opened her eyes in panic, but was gratified to see she had merely grazed the meat of Abby's hip. It certainly wasn't comfortable, but it would heal well and was nowhere near any vital organs.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," cried Scaurus. "For the first time in more than three months, I give you a new champion."

Aimée blushed at the applause and accepted the many congratulations with great humility.

"Sorry," she whispered to Abby.

"Are you kidding," whispered the redhead back to her. "That was brilliant, and I'm SO glad not to be champion for a while."

Scaurus pulled Claude and Aimée aside.

"I must say, I'm very impressed with both of you," said the ancient instructor. "Fighting is one thing, thinking is another -- and you two are first-rate thinkers."

"Now, time for individual training!" called Scaurus to the group. "Fliers with me, others to the sword instructors -- and Aimée with Bullet."

* * * *

Claude followed Scaurus and the others down a long hallway. Their journey ended in a curious, massive square room. It was a cube of at least thirty meters on each side. All surfaces were black -- jet black (or geet black as his mother sometimes said, reverting back to the ancient Anglo-Norman origin of the word). There was one source of light, a huge globe suspended near the ceiling. There were four individuals waiting for them in the room -- and Claude was surprised to see that one was his own father. He started, at first, but Palo simply gave him a tacit nod.

"My friends," announced Aurelius Scaurus. "I welcome you to the flight cube. This is the most important training facility we have available for fliers. Not only am I glad to welcome our cadets, but I am also pleased to see some adult newcomers as well as people returning for a refresher. I will tell you this. I, personally, submit myself to lessons at least once a year. There is nothing more dangerous than a complacent fighter. I would urge all of you to come back here from time to time to reinforce the basics.

"We fight here for two reasons," he continued. "One, because you need confines. Yes, the sky is a great friend -- but there will always come the point when you must engage. Here, you have limits on where you can run. Two, you must learn that flying is an entirely different discipline and that up and down are relative terms. You, and you -- come here."

He had indicated Claude and Palo.

"Before you stand two of the finest land swordsmen I have ever seen. I have told it to this gentleman (he indicated Palo) and I will say it to young Claude here. I would never wish to meet them in combat on the ground. I am fairly certain that either of them could best me on a given day if we were earthbound."

Scaurus levitated into the air and hung above them.

"However, I know I could make short work of either of them in the air. That is what we are here for -- to teach you the discipline of the skies."

"Here," he said, reaching into a bag on the floor. It held several small flasks with attached cords which he shook before handing to each of the students.

"In these containers is a very simple formula. Phosphorus, mineral oil, and a couple of other minor ingredients. Please place this around your neck and secure it around your chest so it doesn't fly about."

Claude and Palo did as he asked and looked curiously as the others did so.

"Please fly," instructed Aurelius.

He flew up to the globe, tapping it on the side which made it retract into the ceiling and disappear -- a cover sliding into place. Suddenly, they were ensconced in darkness, a score of figures glowing in endless darkness.

"Listen closely to my words," said Scaurus. "Up and down no longer have meaning. Up is a means of escape and eventual asphyxiation. Down is a place of refuge among trees and buildings - or the place where non-flying opponents are to be met. However, it is time to forget all lessons you know from the swordsmen Thibault, Destreza, or even Myamoto. You fight in three directions now, not two. Discard the mysterious circle and replace it with a mysterious sphere."

They started by closing their eyes, at which point Aurelius grabbed them by the shoulder and spun them around.

"No up. No down," he shouted. "Now, we learn how to fight as proper flyers should."

For the next two hours they were put through the most grueling, exhausting drills Claude could imagine. Scaurus's gaze was intent and infallible.

"No up!" he shouted at Claude whenever he detected the young man was drifting back toward relying on a vertical orientation. The flight cube really did help -- and Claude soon found himself thinking only in terms of his alignment with his opponent.

"No feet!" shouted Scaurus at Palo, who had just lunged with his body as though he were on ground. "You don't have feet any more Palo. Remember, you have wings! You fly. Do not forget it."

Palo nodded with chagrin and kept working. Palo was actually catching on more quickly than Claude. This impressed Scaurus. Often his older students had more bad habits he needed to break. Palo, at least when it came to swordsmanship, was a quick and receptive learner.

"Very good," shouted Scaurus after a full two hours. "You are all doing well. Now pair up and we'll see if the drills are taking hold."

* * * *

While Claude was in the flight cube and the others were sent to fencing masters or experts befitting their gifts, Aimée waited with the warrior woman who had been by Scaurus' side.

"So, you're called Bullet?" she asked.

"That is what they call me but you may call me by my name, Mathilda. We jumpers don't mind the nicknames, but among ourselves, we insist on our real names. You are Aimée."

"Yes, Aimée Du..."

"I know your surname," said Bullet, interrupting her. "For now, even with friends -- your last name is best not spoken."

Aimée nodded.

"Come with me. We will jump to a place where we can converse in private."

Bullet took Aimée's hand in hers and they winked out. When they materialized, Aimée felt a curious sense of déjà vu. They were in an elegant room, carved entirely from rock.

"I know this place," whispered Aimée.

"Impossible," said Bullet. "This place is inaccessible from the outside world."

"But I do, Mathilda," insisted Aimée. "This is the place where my friend Abby and her brother Jacob were hidden away."

"Yes," said Mathilda, sadly. "I was the one who found them on regular maintenance rounds. So, you know this place. Good. Fix it in your mind and we will go to another safe room."

Aimée did as instructed and then Bullet whisked them off to another place. This one was much warmer, but again it was a room with no entrances or exits."

"Where are we?" asked Aimée.

"This is the original safe room," explained Bullet. "When the very first Afflicted was found to be a jumper, or a trepidon as they were first known -- she sought out a place where she could take people to in secret. Since then, we have built a network of safe places -- the locations of which are only shared among Jumpers. For today, we will use these two. I will teach you a few more every time we meet. First, I must compliment you on your deplacing ability. You are quick and powerful. However, we must work on your noise."

"I know!" exclaimed Aimée. "No matter what I do, I can't seem to be more quiet."

"When in a rush, there is nothing you can do," explained Bullet. "You are displacing a body's worth of air. That air must go somewhere and it will make noise. However, if you take your time, you can ease in."

"But how?" asked Aimée.

"Think of it this way," said Bullet, crossing to the door to another room in the safe house. "If you come from one room to another -- you can jump in, as though you are wishing to startle someone."

With this, she stepped into the other room and then jumped from the other room back into theirs.

"Or," she explained while walking back into the other room. "You can slink in, like a cat."

She eased herself through the doorway gently, like fluid.

"The key," she went on, "is to be in both places at once. To do a standard jump, you just picture yourself in the new place. To do a quiet jump, you must envision yourself in both places and ease yourself in, just like I did in through the doorway."

To illustrate, Bullet slowly faded away and was soon no longer there. A moment later, she was easing back into the room.

She worked on this technique with Aimée for several minutes. Aimée caught on fairly quickly, but was still frustrated at the noise she sometimes made.

"Aimée," said Bullet calmly. "You've been jumping for less than two months. I've been doing it for over two hundred years. Give it time."

Bullet proceeded to teach Aimée five more safe houses, or rooms. She made Aimée recite the names and descriptions of each room. The names were unique and unmistakable from each other. The Aerie, the Tomb, Close Quarters, and so on.

"Now remember. A room is just a room. A safe room has limited supplies, but it is a valid escape in the short term. Also, safe rooms have an emergency exit which can be used. A safe 'house' is supplied, warm, and secure. Safe houses are also ensconced deep within something massive like a mountain with no exit other than by deplacing. Now, for the most important room of all."

They winked out and into a much more comfortable looking room. The walls were lined with maps and papers. There were bunks spread around, and a fully stocked pantry. Brolly, their savior from the black guard, was lounging in a chair, sipping at a beer.

"Brolly."

"Mathilda," said the affable Englishman. "Oh, and the fresh blood. Thank god! It's been nearly two years now since we got a new jumper."

"What is this place?" asked Aimée.

"This," explained Brolly, stepping into the conversation, "is the heart of the Afflicted empire. Everything comes and goes via this very room."

"What he says is true," continued Bullet. "All messages, all transports, they are all coordinated through this very place."

A gentle whoosh sang in the room and a new jumper stepped in. This was a raven haired beauty who seemed to wear a perpetual bemused expression that matched that of the genial Brolly.

"Bullet, Brolly -- new girl! Yay! New girl."

"Aimée," said Brolly, scooping the beautiful new woman into his arms. "This is Leonora, the love of my life."

"Since when?" asked Leonora, though she did return his kiss with her own enthusiasm.

"Since you showed up," teased Brolly. "How much time do you have?"

"A little," said Leonora. "But first..."

She crossed to a huge bulletin board where there were three clipboards labeled 'Transport', 'Message', and 'Sanctuary'. The messages and transports were just that.

"We log everything here," explained Bullet. "All messages, all transports, and they must be reconciled against the central request log in the council headquarters."

"Good. Lesson learned," said Brolly, "Now, if you don't mind, we have some business to attend to."

He scooped Leonora up in his arms and tossed her onto bed.

"Perhaps we should go," said Aimée, blushing.

"If you wish," said Bullet with a grin. "Take us to the tomb."

Aimée whisked them away and was proud of her arrival, which was soft as a whisper.

"Much better, Aimée," said Bullet, proudly.

"I've been wondering. Why the name? Why Bullet?" asked Aimée.

"Good question," said the woman. "Let's go... elsewhere so I can explain."

She winked them out and into a desert canyon.

"Where are we?" asked Aimée.

"It's called Nine Mile Canyon in the Utah Territory,' explained Bullet. "It helps to have some room to show you this. As you know jumping is safe because one cannot jump into anything. As useful as it would be in battle to emerge with one's sword already within an enemy's body, one must first materialize and then strike the blow. We are still fierce fighters, but there are limits."

"I thought long on this," explained Bullet. "When I began, the standard fighting technique for deplaceurs was fairly standard. Materialize, thrust, evaporate -- then repeat. It occurred to me what was missing was inertia."

"I don't understand," said Aimée, perplexed. "We appear instantaneously. What can be faster than that?"

"You see, you are confusing speed with inertia," explained Bullet. "Yes, speed is so rapid with us as to almost seem immaterial. However, inertia is the movement through a system. It seemed to me that movement was essential."

"But you do move when you jump."

"I relocate. I am not moving. Here, let me illustrate -- it will be easier to simply show you. Look out there. Those plants that are called sagebrush. See how they are about the height of a man? Imagine that the top of each plant is a man's head. Now, watch."

Bullet jogged several yards from Aimée. With a great look of determination, she pulled out her sword and began to run. Aided by the strength afforded her by the Affliction, she was absurdly fast. As she whooshed past Aimée, she muttered 'watch the sagebrush'.

Aimée turned to watch the bushes in question. Suddenly, at a full dash, Bullet disappeared. A split second later she reappeared, mid-stride, next to the first bush. Swish, the head of the bush went toppling. Aimée gasped in amazement as the heads of fifteen more bushes fell off in the space of less than a second -- Bullet appearing as a blur beside each one as she dashed past.

"Oh my god," gasped Aimée as Bullet appeared before her, panting just a bit. "You really are a bullet."

"I'm certainly a weapon, no doubt about that," said Bullet, matter-of-factly.

"Have you ever used that technique in battle?"

"Of course," said Mathilda. "We had a skirmish with the black guard about a century ago. I claimed fifty-three lives that day, most in less than ten minutes."

"That must be a record."

"No, not even for a jumper," said Bullet, with a touch of chagrin. "That honor goes to Brolly."

"Brolly?" cried Aimée in amazement. "He's so... he's so..."
"Informal?" suggested Bullet.

"Yes, informal."

"Don't let that casual attitude fool you, young lady," admonished Bullet. "I've seen him decimate a room in less time than I just took out those bushes -- and I mean decimate. The ancient Romans would do that -- killing one out of every ten males in a population."

"We were once pinned down by a group of rebels. Folks got it into their minds to go vampire hunting. They were waiting outside of an Afflicted stronghold. Brolly -- Charles is his real name, by the way -- he called down from the ramparts. "

"'How many men do you have?' 'Five hundred' they called back.'

"Just like that, Brolly winked out. All we heard were thuds. He came back with a frightening grin on his face."

"You've just been decimated!" he yells down.

"There were fifty men dead. Fifty. Ten percent, just like that. Brolly suggested they leave. They refused. Ten percent of four-hundred and fifty -- forty-five. Five seconds later, Brolly was back -- Four-hundred and five men were left standing. In the space of less than a minute, there were ninety five dead with knives to the neck. The rebels departed and never even thought of attacking our kind again."

"This is true?" asked Aimée in amazement.

"I swear it on the memory of Frederique La Teilière," said Bullet.

With a chortle, Aimée caught herself.

"Well, I suppose I'll have to adjust that exclamation. But yes, do not underestimate Brolly. I scare people with my fighting skills. He scares me with his.

"Teach me to be a bullet," insisted Aimée.

For the rest of their session, Bullet walked through the intricacies of her 'trick'. It was difficult at first, but by the end, Aimée had mastered three running jumps in a row.

Soon, it was time to return and Bullet allowed Aimée to whoosh them back to the battle ring.

The others were starting to gather. Claude was beaming with a smile that brightened all the room.

"How were your lessons?" she asked, coyly. "Good?"

"Wonderful," said Claude. "I have so much to learn -- but I'm excited to do so."

Then he dropped his voice to a whisper.

"By the way, father sends his love."

"You saw him? I'm jealous," said Aimée. "How does he look?"

"Very good. And by god, he's a monster in the air. You should see how much he learned in just one day."

"Now then," said Scaurus, calling them to attention. "We've barely an hour left before sunrise. I propose we have a team competition to finish off the day. Who here is healed enough from the tournament?"

Two dozen raised their hands. Seven of the thirty-one cadets were still nursing wounds too deep for battle.

"Very good. I will choose the teams. Six teams of four"

Surprisingly, Scaurus picked Aimée and Abby to be on a team and added Claude and Jacob to the foursome.

"Not fair," protested Oppo. "Two champions on the same team."

"Really Oppo?" said Scaurus with a patient grin. "And the enemy, do you think they'll choose their worst people to send to battle?"

"No, I suppose not," said Oppo. "But we'll still be crushed."

"Perhaps," explained Scaurus. "But, you've all taken enough of a beating for one day. This is just an ink match."

A sigh of relief went up from the cadets. Ink matches were pure fun. The weapons were either long or short dowels, the ends of which had a rubber stamp attached. All that was needed for a 'kill' was to imprint the ink on a vital organ. The ink was bright yellow, so no mistake could be made when someone was touched. There was also an unspoken rule that the ink had to touch skin, not just clothing.

It was a free-for-all match. All six teams against each other. Whoever had the last player standing was the winner.

"We need a strategy," said Jacob. He was suddenly all business and showed none of the signs of the flirtations of earlier.

"I think I have one," said Abby.

"Well, spill it, sis."

"It might be easier, if we..."

Abby leaned forward and put a hand on Claude and Aimée's arms, then snaked out a foot to touch Jacob's calf -- establishing strong mental contact with the three others. Without a single word, she sent out her thoughts to her team in clear, distinct images.

"Perfect," said Aimée, after absorbing plan.

"Worth a shot," agreed Claude.

"All right, team," whispered Abby. "We know the plan. Stick to it."

On the whistle, Abby wrapped herself around Claude and they sailed into the sky.

"Comfy?" asked Claude gently.

"Yes Claude, but I need to remind you. As much as I enjoy your admiring gaze, it does little to help me see the field. I need your eyes down there on the battle arena, not at my cleavage."

"Ah. Sorry," said a blushing Claude."

There were other flyers. Abby concentrated intently on two of them -- Liszta and Janus. Before they knew what was happening, they'd stripped their clothes and were locked in an intense embrace.

"What are you doing?" screamed Oppo, zooming between them. "Don't let that sorceress into your heads, idiots."

It was too late. A flyer from team five had swooped in and tagged Liszta on the left breast over the heart and Janus on the pelvis, marking a spleen hit.

"Damn it!" screamed Oppo as he zoomed just out of reach of the attacker.

Janus and Liszta shrugged. Eliminated, they retreated to a corner of the training room to finish what Abby had started in their minds.

On the ground, Aimée and Jacob were having adventures of their own.

Before the start of the match, Jacob pulled her toward him.

"Come here, we have to be ready to go as soon as the whistle blows."

Aimée nestled under his arm and grasped his hand.

"Don't get any ideas," she said.

"Later," he said quite seriously. "The winners of the group matches get extra privileges.

"Like what?" asked Aimée.

"You never know. Sometimes it's a pass to town, sometimes a day off school. It's always good, though."

"All right, but don't take advantage," Aimée admonished.

"Like I said, I'll do that later," said Jacob with a wink.

"Jacob, can you extend your powers to me?"

"Unfortunately, no," said Jacob. "Flyers and jumpers, they push out that envelope like it's nothing. I've tried and tried, but all I can turn invisible are things that I'm holding, like a sword, or things like that."

"Too bad," said Aimée. "Here's how we'll work it then. "I'll drop you off at places and you dive away as I jump out again. If I can jump near you, I will. Otherwise, you have to be visible for me to pick you up."

"Good plan. Oh, and by the way, get ready for some skin. It's my specialty."

Jacob twirled a knife between his hands with enthusiastic glee.

"I thought there were no weapons in this."

"Oh, this isn't for the fight," he said, laughing. "Just be ready to move in when there's a chance."

The whistle blew and they were off. Aimée whooshed out with Jacob and quickly dropped him at the other side of the ring -- winking immediately out and finding a hiding place behind one of the equipment racks.

As annoying as she found Jacob, she couldn't help but grin as Anders shirt suddenly ripped open and disappeared. Taking her cue, she popped in and inked his chest.

"Aimée, duck and grab Jacob!" rang Abby's voice in her head.

She was instantly down without an instant to spare as Jackie's longer staff came swishing into the air where she'd been. Feeling Jacob's leg at her side, she grabbed it and winked them to the location where Abby had guided them.

"I'm good," whispered Jacob.

Aimée winked out and waited once more.

"Now Aimée!" said Abby's voice in her head.

The image Abby projected into Aimée's head showed two girls from another team standing side by side. She was a bit confused as to the target, but followed orders and jumped to in front of them.

At that very moment, the two girl's blouses sprang open -- much to their surprise. With one stamp in each hand, Aimée scored above their hearts.

Jacob was quickly wrapped around her and she winked them to her hideaway behind the weapons.

"You know, we could just tag them on their necks or on their clothes," she whispered.

"Where would the fun be in that?" he whispered back. "Besides, taking off their clothes distracts them.

"Pervert," she admonished.

"Guilty," confessed Jacob.

"Aimée, Jacob -- we need some help!" said Abby's voice in their heads.

They quickly came back to attention and peered out at the ring. All that remained were Oppo, Claude, and Abby. Abby was riding on Claude's back as Oppo pursued them relentlessly. Alone, Claude could possibly outfly Oppo, but with Abby they were at a bit of a disadvantage. Oppo suddenly poured on a burst of speed and with a frightening maneuver, had Claude's shirt ripped open and marked him.

"Fall!" ordered, Oppo -- for that was the general rule of the game. If a flyer was 'killed' even with a passenger, they had to descend as rapidly as they could to the ground.

They knew Abby was as good as gone.

"Into the center," ordered Jacob. Take us there, and you stay."

"But..."

"Just do it," he insisted. "And stay there. Do not move!"

They winked into the center of the ring and Aimée stood, confused at Jacob's orders as he disappeared.

Claude came hurtling down and paused at the last minute, hoping to buy time enough for Abby to dash away.

It was no use, though -- even with Abby's superior gift, Oppo was fully prepared for her. As she leapt from Claude's back and went tumbling, Oppo was upon her. Pinning her hands, he pulled down her bodice to reveal a fair portion of her lovely left breast.

"Dead," said Oppo, stamping the yellow on her chest.

Aimée was confused. She had been sure Jacob would have taken advantage of the tussle and tagged Oppo there, but he was nowhere to be seen.

"Remember," he suddenly whispered in her ear. "Don't move."

"But..."

A tear instantly appeared in the cloth at the top of her cleavage. Her blouse suddenly flew open, exposing her breasts to all of the world -- and certainly to the cheers of the other cadets. She remained frozen there, both livid and astonished at Jacob's temerity.

Oppo was absolutely and totally disarmed. He stalked her with a grin of appreciation on his face.

"Oh, to mar such lovely chest with ugly yellow dye," he said, shaking his head. "But why do you stay? Are you bound somehow?"

Aimée said nothing, but remained, following Jacob's perplexing instructions. Oppo slowly, seductively reached out his staff and stamped her chest.

"Dead," he muttered.

If breeches could be deplaced, what Oppo's pants did next is what they would have done. Somehow, Jacob was able to slit both sides and remove Oppo's pants in one fluid motion. Oppo stood in bemused surprise -- his mammoth (even while flaccid) cock hanging loosely before him.

"What are you up to Jacob?"

"Just wondering," said Jacob's voice from afar. "Master Scaurus, given the size of Oppo's marvelous endowment -- wouldn't you qualify that as a major organ?"

"I suppose I would," said Scaurus.

Even the ancient instructor couldn't suppress a chuckle at Jacob's impish sensibilities.

"Then would that not make my team the winners?"

"I think so," said Scaurus.

"But how?" asked Oppo. "He didn't...oh no."

He glanced down at the organ in question. It was true. Not only had Jacob relieved him of his pants. In the same move, with the grace of an illusionist, he had marked the end of Oppo's shaft without the young man even feeling it. His bulbous tip was bright yellow.

"And I believe," said Jacob, materializing near Aimée. "That brings the curtain down on one of my finest performances. I thank you. I thank you all."

He bowed to the applause of all of the cadets. Even Claude and Abby were clapping. There was one sole exception.

Aimée had gathered her blouse closed again and stomped out of the ring.

Jacob hurried to her once the applause died down.

"Aimée, what's wrong? We won!"

"You are such a child," she muttered between clenched teeth. "You could have had him when he went after Abby. Instead, you had to embarrass me in front of everyone, and then Oppo as well."

"Well, Aimée. You've certainly nothing to be embarrassed about, not from what I saw. Come on, relax, it was all in good fun?"

"All good fun for you to get a free peek!" Hardly."

She was interrupted by Claude and Abby bearing down on them and swooping them into exuberant hugs which distracted Aimée from her being peeved at Jacob, at least for the moment.

They went to the showers and grabbed new clothes. Aimée finished earlier than the others and went out to the ring. She saw Jacob there, pulling Brana aside to speak about something. This was too much to resist. For the first time, she used her newly found 'stealth' abilities and jumped silently to behind a wall near where they were speaking.

"Listen Brana," said Jacob. "I realize there is a difficult situation. I am not to stay in Abby's dorm, and Claude is ordered to steer clear of Aimée. However, I've been thinking -- it might be possible for at least Abby and I to swap dorms because..."

Aimée had heard enough and stepped out from her hiding place.

"You arrogant, smug, lout!" she snarled. "I don't know what makes you think that I have the slightest interest in you. The slightest! Going to Brana behind my back? Just in hopes of bedding me? That is something I can promise you will never happen.

"What makes you think this is about you?" said Jacob, angrily.

"Oh, please. That trick with the dagger today at the end of the round -- the way you've been pushing yourself at me?"

"Aimée, please," said Brana soothingly. "It is more complicated than you think. Whatever the reasons, I have specific orders to not make any changes in living situations when it comes to the four of you."

"Orders from who?" asked Jacob.

"From somewhere very high in the Council. Who, I don't really know. All I know is I'm to keep things as-is and wait for more information. So, I'm sorry, Jacob. And Aimée, you might show a little more understanding."

Brana left them and Jacob looked down at the floor in frustration.

"What was that about?" asked Aimée. "Understanding about what?"

"Aimée, you are a lovely girl," said Jacob.

His tone was different. There was a catch in his voice.

"However, I fear you flatter yourself a bit. I flirt with everyone. I'm silly with everyone. Would I enjoy spending a night with you? I'd imagine so. But, I don't know what I did, in particular to set this off. My request to Brana was for Abby. It wasn't an excuse to get in your pants. As you must be able to see, there is some sort of deep connection between Abby and Claude. These past months that we've been separated we... well, at least I have been empty. I can only imagine that Abby feels the same. I was simply thinking that if Claude could fill that emptiness a bit, it would be a good thing for my sister who I love dearly. Now, I'm going to go back to my dorm. Goodbye, and I hope that someday we might at least be friends."

It was Aimée's turn to be ashamed. She looked back over the past day and her interactions between herself and Jacob. She realized so much of it had been her fault. Her lingering jealousy over Abby's happiness had thrown a green tinge over her view of Jacob. He truly had acted as he most likely did with any girl. It was her response that had been out of proportion. She vowed to find a way, somehow, to make it up to him.

She waited patiently for Abby to emerge and did her best to guard her mind from her friend's possible prying -- inadvertent or otherwise. If Abby did detect anything wrong, she was polite enough to ignore it and they began chattering excitedly about a night in the 'real' city.

Upon walking into the dorm, they took a look at the hooks in the vestibule and saw a more than usual number of outfits hanging there. Glancing down into the common area, they saw a much higher percentage of unclad figures.

"My, my," said Abby. "The gospel of Jackie does seem to be spreading."

The looked to each other and with a shrug they shrugged off all of their clothes and felt an odd sense of pride as they entered their little world with nothing to hide.

"Did I tell you? Or did I tell you?" said Jackie, who was already busy with a young Greek on one of the couches. "What are the rest of you cowards waiting for?"

Jackie returned to her current diversion.

Abby and Aimée were ravenous, as they all were after such a full day. They filled their plates and sat at a table by themselves.

Even without an empath's powers, Aimée could feel the heat being directed toward her. More than one pair of eyes was roving over her, and the boys' interest was more than visible in many cases. For some reason though, she wasn't interested. She was bone weary and her sexual hunger seemed fairly low.

"Tired?" asked Abby.

"Very," murmured Aimée.

"I am too," agreed Abby. "Let's go take a nap. We deserve it."

They cleared their plates and departed under the glare of more than one disappointed look. Three boys loitered near the hallway which contained the bedrooms. When the girls walked past them without so much as a glance, their faces grew even longer.

"Don't fret boys," said Abby with a smile. "We just need some rest. Forty winks, we'll be raring to go."

They found an empty room and Aimée fell into the bed, sighing at the wave of happy exhaustion that washed through her body.

To her surprise, Abby crawled in beside her. She draped herself over Aimée's body, letting her hand come to rest casually on Aimée's breast.

"Oh," said Aimée. "I... this is nice."

"It is, isn't it?" agreed Abby. "Don't get the wrong idea. I find you gorgeous... but I'm really not in the mood to try anything down that road. It's just -- the Affliction is so needy. Can you feel it? Can you feel the way our systems are singing out to each other?"

Aimée closed her eyes and listened to what her body was telling her. Truly, wherever their skin touched -- it was as if there was an invisible reassurance. It reminded her of the times as a child when her mother had done feather-light scratches on her back to help her get to sleep.

"You're right," whispered Aimée. Her eyelids were already drooping. "Hello, Abby's affliction? How are you?"

"Sleepy," replied Abby in a soft voice. "But it's nice to get acquainted with you too, Aimée's Affliction."

They soon drifted off to sleep, their bodies not aroused -- but comforted by the soothing touch and reassurance of a friend.

* * * *

Hannah was crying out in blissful agony. Jacob had been pounding into her for nearly a half an hour without pause.

She was on her fourth or maybe fifth orgasm, she'd lost count, and Jacob showed no signs of slowing. She was on her back and Jacob was on top of her. His head was next to hers. He was grunting into the pillow as his hips continued to piston -- oddly bringing to mind images of a steam engine she had once seen at an exposition.

"Jacob, now you," she gasped. "Let me feel you inside of me. Fill me up."

"Not yet," grunted Jacob, still not looking at her.

"Jacob?"

She lifted his head and looked into his eyes -- still he wasn't stopping. His eyes held a glossy look of resignation and an almost manic determination.

"Jacob, please," she pleaded. "Give me this. Let me pleasure you just a tiny amount as much as you've pleased me."

"Won't stop. Can't stop."

"Jacob, sweetie. What on earth is wrong?"

"Nothing," he grunted. He was still pounding with all of his might and his skin was glistening.

"Jacob, stop."

He didn't listen, and kept going.

"Jacob! Stop!"

Still, he wouldn't.

"Jacob!"

With an angry shove she pushed Jacob off of her. He rolled to the side of the bed and stared at the ceiling, removed.
"What on earth is wrong with you?"

"I only wanted to make her happy," he said softly. "I thought, at least one of us can be happy -- and they won't even let us have that."

"Oh dear Jacob, tell me what's wrong. Talk to me."

She rolled over on top of him. She slid down onto him, taking him all the way inside.

"Just stay," she whispered. "Be here with me and tell me what's wrong, my friend."

For the next hour, they made love gently and she comforted him. At last, he filled her with his seed and it was enough. She left him there on his own, seeking out her own bed for sleep.

* * * *

Claude was stroking himself. Aimée could tell that, somehow. He was almost near climax and stopped for the third time this day.

Aimée's eyelids fluttered.

She'd been asleep. How did she know this? How did she know Claude was pleasuring himself?

She looked down at Abby's head which was resting on her chest. Abby's hair was different from hers. It had more of a silky texture where Aimée's hair was a bit more coarse. Aimée rubbed her cheek against Abby's red locks playfully.

She closed her eyes again. There was Claude. She could now see his cock standing proud and rigid as he stroked himself to the edge once more. His body tensed and it seemed he was trying to stop it, but he gasped and was unable too. Aimée kept her eyes closed and watched the great spurt from her brother's cock erupt. It sailed high into the air and splashed back down onto his hand, then again. He moaned with the pleasure.

Aimée heard another moan, and this one wasn't from Claude.

"Mmm," groaned Abby at her chest. "I wish I was there."

"Abby," said Aimée -- nudging her friend's head. "Abby!"

"What?" murmured Abby drowsily. "I was having the loveliest dream."

"Was it about Claude?" asked Aimée with a chortle. "Did he just explode with about ten liters of sticky deliciousness?"

"Why yes?" said Abby, her eyes flying open. "How did you know? Was I broadcasting my dreams?"

"You were broadcasting," said Aimée. "However, I don't think it was a dream. It seemed real. I was... I was looking through Claude's eyes."

"How remarkable," said Abby. "It seems I have connected with him, and from a couple of kilometers away. I've never been able to do that with anyone other than Jacob."

"It must be love at first sight, truly," said Aimée with a resigned tone. "But how amazing -- to see what he is seeing. Can I... never mind."

"What? Can you do what, Aimée?"

"Well, now that you're awake -- can I feel what he's thinking as well?"

"Well, we won't know until we try. Come here, my friend."

Abby moved up and placed her hand on Aimée's cheek. She leaned down and kissed Aimée gently and then reached out with her senses.

"Not enough," thought Claude to himself, "that's not nearly enough -- but I'm not in the mood for anyone right now."

His cock was semi-flaccid after the huge explosion. However, it only took a few strokes to return him to full hardness.

"That's it," though Claude to himself. "Now come to me, Abby?"

He began to visualize his encounter with Abby in the clinic. At seeing this, Abby blushed a bit at her friend seeing this scene. Yet, Aimée stayed connected and watched in fascination at the memory as Abby reached around behind Claude and worked his manhood with her tiny hand.

The scene shifted suddenly. Claude was working his cock now with the ample fluid he had just expelled. To match the wet sensations he switched to a vision of Aimée pleasuring him with her mouth. She remembered exactly the time. It was the first day she had learned how to pull his entire length down her throat.

"Oh Aimée," thought Claude.

"How did you get top billing?" asked Aimée.

She had broken off their connective kiss and was grinning at Abby.

"What?" asked Abby, a bit disoriented from stepping back from 'spying' on Claude.

"How come he thought of you first, bitch?"

"No reason for name calling," said Abby. "It's not my fault who he pictures. I must say though, you are servicing him a bit more impressively than I did."

"Let's go back," said Aimée. "But let's try something."

As opposed to a kiss -- Aimée moved her hands up to cradle Abby's face. Abby did the same and the two of them touched foreheads -- even keeping their eyes open."

"Amazing," whispered Aimée as their minds leapt into Claude's.

Claude was struggling a bit. While he was still stroking himself with great pleasure, he was trying to envision what it would be like to lie with Abby.

"Damn!" he thought. "What would you be like?"

"Can I say something?" said Aimée in a determined tone.

"What?" inquired Abby.

"Fuck the Council."

Aimée closed her eyes. As softly as she'd ever done, she and Abby suddenly disappeared and reappeared on the floor of Claude's bedroom.

Abby was very surprised.

"How did you do that?" Abby seemed to say without words.

In response, Abby simply shrugged and pointed to her eyes. This conveyed the sense to Abby that she had merely needed to see the place she was going. Since they'd seen it through Claude's eyes, Aimée had done what was not possible for most jumpers -- go to a place she'd never been.

"Oh Abby, what are you like?" said Claude aloud, his hand working his cock feverishly. Then, "Oh Aimée, how I miss you."

His hand worked faster and faster. Aimée feared he might be near another release and had other plans for such an event.

"Claude," she whispered softly, bending down near his head.

"Yes, Aimée?" muttered Claude, not even aware he wasn't imagining her voice.

"Save that, please. I have a surprise for you?"

"Oh, very well," he murmured. "I can wait."

She could barely suppress her laughter as she bent over to kiss him for the first time in a long while.

In his dreamlike state, Claude returned the kiss. Suddenly, his eyes popped open and he looked into Aimée's with pleasant shock and surprise.

"Aimée, what are you doing here?" he asked. He leapt up and pulled her into a loving hug.

"I'm bringing you a present, silly."

She turned and took his hand while reaching out to place Abby's in his.

"But the council..." said Claude.

"Fuck the council," said Aimée, repeating her words. "Just don't bite each other, agreed?"

Claude nodded.

"Now, before I leave you two," said Aimée. "Abby, can you tell me where Jacob is and what he's doing?"

"He's studying," said Abby, reaching out. "Philosophy. How he loves his Plato. He's alone, in a room with bookshelves and a larger bed. Which one is that, Claude?"

"Let's see," pondered Claude -- who was already greatly distracted at the feeling of Abby's soft skin against his. "Probably three doors down to the left."

"Very good," said Aimée. "How does the hallway look, Abby?"

"Everyone is asleep or otherwise engaged," said the redhead.

"Good then, come here brother."

Aimée pulled Claude to her and wrapped herself around him. Even the sticky wetness of his last orgasm was erotic against her body. She kissed him with every ounce of love and passion she could summon.

"Oh how wonderful you are," she said softly into his ear. "How lucky I was to have you, and how much luckier Abby is to continue with you on your adventures. Au Revoir, mon frère. Goodbye, my brother."

Aimée stayed strong and brave as she stepped into the hallway. Once the door was closed, she dropped her head and wiped away more than a few tears. Soon, she gathered her resolve and started toward Jacob.

Third door on the left, she thought to herself.

Jacob was sitting in a chair with his back to the door. All he wore was a cloth robe. He heard the door open and didn't even look up from his book.

"Occupied," he said. "If you wish to sleep, go ahead, but I don't have any interest in anything else right now."

"That's a shame," said a girl's voice that sounded vaguely familiar. "Because I was hoping very much for anything else."

Jacob looked up curiously to see who it was.

It was Aimée. She was naked. She wasn't supposed to be here. She hated him.

These thoughts raced straight through his mind and out of his mouth.

"You're naked. You aren't supposed to be here," he said. "And, you hate me."

"Correct on all three counts," said Aimée.

She was stalking him. Her hand drifted across his shoulder, sending a shiver down his spine.

"First count. I am naked, aren't I?" she said. "Second count. I'm certainly not supposed to be here -- but I'm not with Claude and you're not with Abby -- so I could give a damn about the Council. Third count. I do hate you Jacob. I hate your juvenile sense of humor. I hate your smug attitude and your cute grin. And..."

She reached down to open his robe.

"I certainly hate this."

Jacob's mind was reeling from the conflicting emotions. He was certainly still angry with Aimée for the way she'd treated him earlier -- but the attentions of the lovely brunette's hand did much to instantly dismiss any lingering anger.

Abby said nothing after that. She merely threw his robe the rest of the way open and swung her leg across him to straddle him in the chair. When he entered her, neither of them could hold back a gasp of surprise.

"What just happened?" asked Jacob.

"I don't know," said Aimée. "I've never... oh God, Jacob, you feel so good."

Though she'd only lain with two other boys since him, this was the first time she'd felt that 'more' her body so desperately longed for. Was the ecstasy with Jacob greater than what she had with Claude? She couldn't tell. It was simply different, but it didn't seem any less intense.

These musings soon dwindled and all that remained was Jacob: Jacob inside of her; Jacob kissing her; Jacob's hungry lips on her breasts; his large, gentle hands on her back. It was a moment she knew she would never forget, that first time with Jacob. Her hands were buried in his hair, her lips were kissing him desperately as she raised and lowered herself on his lovely member. They made love there for perhaps five minutes, but those five minutes felt like a blissful eternity.

Unexpected, but certainly not unwelcome, she felt the shudder begin in her body.

"Oh Jacob," she gasped. "It's here. It's here, already! Aiiii my god!"

Her entire body shuddered. Were it not for his supporting arms holding her, she would have surely fallen over and abandoned herself to the shock waves coursing through her. As it was, she clung to him tightly and cried out his name over and over.

"That was amazing," he whispered to her. "I've never seen anything like it. Just the sound of your voice almost made me cum, too."

"Well why didn't you?" she admonished.

"Would you like me to?" asked Jacob with a grin.

"Oh, so much."

He thrust himself into her. Once, twice, three times. On the third thrust it was his turn to cry out. His hips bucked and he groaned, his back arching.

"Oh yes, Jacob. Please. Please... Oooohh!"

Something about the hot cum shooting into her triggered another orgasm in Aimée. This one was different, though. It was quiet and fulfilling. It was her body's way of speaking with Jacob. As the heat filled her insides, her eyes rolled back in her head.

She knew then, at that moment, that there must be cells of the Affliction in Jacob's very seed. Her inner walls reveled in it, drinking it in and singing out with joy at the hot fluid bathing her interior.

"Jacob," she gasped as the last spurt surged into her. "I have a correction to make on the third point."

"The third point?" he said, confused -- and then he remembered. "Oh, the one about you hating me?"

"Yes. I need to make a correction. The fact is, I feel exactly the opposite. I still love Claude... but I do not hate you. Far from it."

"I know...mmmph, what you mean," murmured Jacob. They were kissing deeply and were already moving again. "I still... love Abby... but you... you're amazing."

They began to make love with a fervor borne of loneliness. Not since they had lain with their own siblings had sex been that intense, or that addictive.






CHAPTER 10



Abby had a small satchel around her shoulder. Both of the girls wore simple sleeping clothes; Abby wore a cotton nightgown while Aimée wore pajama pants and a simple top.

"Ready?" asked Abby, pulling Aimée close and reaching a hand up Aimée's shirt to place a tender hand upon her breast.

"Yes," said Aimée. "Show me."

It had been three weeks now since their first union. It had not been easy to resist, but they had restricted themselves to meeting each other no more than twice a week to reduce the risk of getting caught.

The procedure was simple. Abby would wrap herself around Aimée and through that contact, the two of them would be able to sense exactly where Claude and Jacob were. Once they had a fix, Aimée would deplace them into the room with the boys.

The first couple of times it had been a bit awkward to be in the same room, but they had gotten used to it. It was either that, or risk one of them sneaking to another room in the dorm AND have to sneak back so Abby and Aimée could whoosh back to their own quarters.

It some ways, it was helpful to have them all in the same room because it helped them keep each other in check. The mating lust was rising higher in them each time, especially for the boys, and they had Abby there to soothe their emotions. Abby herself was a bit of a risk, because when she was in the thralls of an orgasm, she tended to emit her pleasure in a broad fashion. Aimée would always warn her when her friend began sending out intense thoughts because Abby's lust would seep over to the other occupants of the dorm if they weren't careful.

In general, they kept it pretty calm. Claude and Abby would take a bed on one side of the room and Aimée and Jacob would take the opposite. The action would be beneath the covers and though it added to the erotic atmosphere to be making love in the presence of the others, things stayed pretty tame.

Aimée wondered how easy it would be this evening, however. It had been five full days since she had lain with Jacob and she was bursting with desire for her tall Canadian lover.

They popped into the room and looked about. It was darkened and they could only see the two beds. How odd that the boys weren't there.

However, as their eyes adjusted to the darkness they noticed the narrow outlines of bodies beneath the bedcovers.

"We see you," said Aimée playfully.

"Damn," said Claude, poking his head out from beneath the quilt. "We were hoping you would have to look a little harder."

"I don't need to look at all," giggled Abby. "Silly boys, as soon as I got here all I could see was the inside of your bedcovers through your eyes. Where else did you think we would look?"

She set the satchel down and rushed to Claude's bed to kiss him deeply.

"Oh, hello," she giggled. "Someone is certainly ready."

Her hand had brushed down Claude's chest and she had discovered he had no shirt, or anything else on beneath the covers.

"What a lovely surprise," said Aimée on the other side of the room as she peeked beneath the covers at the grinning, naked Jacob.

Both girls were quickly in a similar state of undress and beneath the blankets kissing their boys passionately.

"I missed you," whispered Aimée to Jacob. "You're all I've been able to think about."

"Really?" said Jacob. "So much that you kept yourself away from everyone else?"

"Don't be silly," she sighed as she rolled on top of him. "I think I've been with eleven boys since I last saw you."

"Good girl," said Jacob.

She loved this time, the way they drove each other crazy; making Jacob wait until he had to put himself inside of her.

"Who then," he whispered between sucks on her nipples.

"Mm, let's see," she moaned. "Oppo this morning, I'm still sore from that one."

"Sorry I don't measure up to that one," said Jacob.

"God, don't be," she said, pushing his head back down to the pillow so she could at least concentrate enough to speak. "Who else can I remember? Mm, Anders a couple of times."

"Anders? He's so awkward."

"Not in bed, Jacob. Not in bed. "

"Really now? Tell me about it?"

Aimée proceeded to tell him, in great detail, about her most intense encounter with Anders. It served to stir Jacob up even more.

In the other bed, a similar activity was going on -- but in a much more intimate manner. Abby was resting atop Claude, breasts on his chest, pussy upon his cock (though he wasn't inside yet).

"Show me," she murmured, dropping her lips to meet his.

As they established the intimate contact, she began racing through the images of his conquests over the past week.

"Ooh, I wish I could have been there," she said of a certain union.

"I was only thinking of you when I was with her.

"You are such a liar," Abby said with a laugh. "You should know by now not to tell falsehoods to an empath."

"Well, I wished I could be with you."

"That part I believe," said Abby.

A few minutes later, she had seen enough of his sexual encounters from the past few. Now she wanted one of her own. With one move, she slid down his lovely cock and moaned with relief as he filled her up.

Across the room, Aimée had just been flipped over by Jacob. He had also waited long enough.

"So, you're still sore, huh?"

"Mm hmm," she said, biting her lip and nodding. (Though she wasn't really, the Affliction had healed her silky interior within an hour of being ravaged by Oppo's huge member).

"Too sore?" he asked.

"Oh no," she said, shaking her head.

"Good," he said.

And with that, he slowly impaled her, evoking a groan from both of them.

After many heated minutes beneath the covers, Aimée was the first to cry out with pleasure.

"Oh Jacob," she cried. "Oh Jacob," she squealed. "I've needed this so muuucch."

Claude and Abby slowed their rhythm a bit to listen to Aimée's cries. Claude peered across so he could see his sister's pleasure-twisted countenance (and thereby let Abby see as well).

"How beautiful she is," whispered Abby. "Especially when she's like that."

"Like what?" said Claude.

With 'what', he gave a deep thrust into Abby. He knew she was close.

"Oh God, Claude, not yet," she begged.

"Why not?" said Claude, thrusting again.

"Oh Claude, my darling, just a little longer before..."

She stopped speaking. Claude had reached up to take her neck in his hand, carefully choking her enough to bring on a rush but no more. It was all it took to send her over the edge.

"Oh Claude! Oh Claude!" cried Abby as she climaxed in the large way she only could with Claude or Jacob.

"Now our turn," said Jacob. "Our turn to cum."

"Yes, agreed Claude."

Claude started moving within Abby again, but he was surprised to be stopped by her.

"No Claude," she said. "You need to wait..."

"But..."

"I promise it will be worth it," she said.

Abby gave him a kiss as she climbed off of him.

Aimée was also crawling out from under Jacob, who wore a similar disappointed look.

"What's going on?" said Jacob. "Don't tell me you're going back so soon."

"Of course not," said Abby. "We just have a little surprise for you. "

Aimée took over the conversation, and as she did, Abby reached into the bag she had brought with.

"We've been thinking a lot -- and we realized we are more than just a little rebellious," said Aimée. "We said 'fuck the council' and look at all the fun we've had over the past few weeks."

"It has been so fun," added Abby. "But there's one thing missing. I have never truly made love to Claude."

"I would disagree," said Claude.

"But I haven't," argued Abby. "I've certainly lain with you and enjoyed it immensely -- but I've never seen you during sex -- except of course the memories I borrowed from Aimée."
"Okay?" said Jacob.

"The point is," said Aimée, "as long as Abby is unable to see, she can't truly know what it looks like when you are pounding her from above, or riding your cock while she's on top of you."

"And I do want to know that," said Abby. "I want to know it so much -- to see what it is like."

"But..."

"So I'm going to help her," said Aimée.

She started crossing seductively to Claude.

"After all, what are friends for?"

"Oh no," said Claude. "I don't think so. That's forbidden, we've been told not to."

"We've been told not to do a lot of things, brother," Aimée said in a low but insistent tone. "Why stop now?"

The kiss she planted on him silenced any objections that might have remained.

"Jacob?" said Abby beckoning to him.

Like a snake following the charmer, Jacob walked zombie-like toward his sister.

"We also discussed you," she said. "It would hardly be fair for Claude to taste his forbidden fruit and deny you yours."

She pulled him into a passionate kiss.

All four bodies were singing out, calling a new 'hello' to the lovers they'd once known so intimately.

"We have some ground rules, though," said Aimée as she pushed Claude's face away from hers to slow things down.

"Yes," said Abby. "And we thought we would make a little game of it."

She reached into the satchel and removed two glass vials she had snuck out of the clinic.

"We have heard, and we also know first-hand, that our brothers are two of the most productive stallions in the dorms. Is that the right word, Aimée."

"Yes," said Aimée. "I think 'productive' is perfect term."

"One of the key factors in all things to do with the Affliction is fluids," said Abby. "So one thing we must avoid is direct contact of your semen with our vaginal membranes."

"Can anybody translate that?" asked Jacob. He looked to Claude, who also shrugged.

"Umm... if Jackie was saying it, I think she'd say... you can't cum in your sister's pussies," said Aimée.

"Oh my, such a mouth on this girl," said Jacob.

"I didn't say it," said Aimée. "It's what she would say."

"Anyway," said Abby, giggling. "All of my studying in medicine has taught me that the most dangerous aspect of us sleeping together is you actually spending your seed inside of us. From some old notes of Galen's, it appears that specific process is what triggers the most extreme reactions. When the Afflicted cells inside of our... silky walls, shall I say. When those Afflicted cells feel the semen of a close relation, then that's when they cry out the strongest and actually send signals back. That's when we are most dangerous and it is also what raises the mating lust the most"

Aimée picked up the trail of thought. "So, at the end of this little session we will have a little contest. Whoever produces the greatest quantity of cum will have the privilege of both of us for the last go-round of the evening. Are you up to the challenge boys?"

The two young men didn't say anything. They didn't need to. They could only nod in happy shock.

Abby took Jacob by the hand and led him to the edge of Claude's bed to sit beside Claude and Aimée

"It is better when I can touch Aimée," Abby explained. "That will give us the best connection for sharing each other's experiences.

Jacob contemplated the situation and dragged a chair over. Sitting in it, he patted his lap, into which Abby readily climbed, straddling his legs and facing away from him. She positioned his cock at her entrance and then lowered herself down.

"Ooh, how I've missed that, darling brother," she moaned.

Aimée had also climbed astride her own brother. Claude was laying on his back, cock rigid beyond measure from excitement.

She reached behind herself and lifted his long cock up toward the place it had been missing so long. She reached out her other hand to take Abby's hand in hers.

"Ready?" she whispered.

"Ready?" her friend replied.

For the first time, other than through memories, Abby truly knew what it was like to watch Claude's beautiful sliding into her body (though she was borrowing Aimée's body to do so. With direct contact with Aimée, she was able to be exactly in the moment.

She also knew the emotional payload it carried when happening through Aimée.

Aimée's body sang out in rejoicing. Only Jacob had come anywhere close to this sort of rapture for her. Aimée suspected she and Jacob would soon achieve this sort of amazing closeness, but she hadn't had the amount of time with him that she'd had with Claude, locked below-decks on the Atlantic with only each other to feed their insatiable hunger.

Abby felt Jacob surging inside of her. It brought a flood of emotions and memories pouring back from their time in the cave when they were locked away with only each.

Aimée remembered her first time with Claude aboard the Siren. Back then, her newly-awakened sexual longing had been monstrous. It had been Claude, and only Claude who could soothe her need.

Aimée was riding/Abby was moaning.

Abby suddenly realized she didn't know who she was. Because of the stream of sexual energy pouring through her senses, she could no longer differentiate who was who. Aimée felt the same. She knew she was riding Claude, squeezing his long cock with her pussy, but she could also feel Jacob within Abby.

The girls soon gave up trying to tell things apart. Except for when Claude and Aimée switched positions and Abby stood up to let Jacob take her from behind, the next half an hour was a blur.

Eventually, Claude and Aimée were hovering above the bed, truly. They were facing each other in mid-air and he was pulling her forcefully into him with each thrust. Aimée was still holding hands with Abby who was perched reverse cowgirl upon Jacob on the bed. Claude was taking his sister with all of his might and sweat was running down both of their bodies. Aimée sensed a familiar lust in their lovemaking but could not quite pinpoint the familiarity through the truly dizzying intensity of the experience.

Claude's thrusts were becoming more and more insistent and he had an almost angry look in his eyes.

"Abby," she whispered.

"Yes, dear?" her redheaded friend replied.

"Can you calm him down?" Aimée whispered in her mind.

She tried to communicate in images the frightening time she and Claude had experienced in the clouds when they had almost surrendered to bloodlust.

Abby understood the situation and she reached out to place a light hand on Claude's leg.

Abby reached into Claude's mind where she could, but she found it extremely difficult. He was truly blinded by the lust raging within him. She was able to grab hold of a wisp of reason, but it still wasn't enough. Her final resolution was to simply send out a series of sensations which she knew would send Claude over the edge.

"Oh God," Claude moaned between gritted teeth.

"Aimée pushed him away with a mix of pleasure and regret. Her body was also singing out from his contact, but she knew it must end.

She twisted to the ground while Claude remained floating in the air -- holding the base of his cock in a vice-like grip to keep the cum back.

"Hurry," he begged.

Aimée grabbed a vial from the table and knelt beneath his floating form. She aimed his cock into the glass container and cheered him on.

"Yes Claude, pour it out," she urged him.

"Oh God, oh god!" he cried and a huge burst flew from his cock.

It splashed at the bottom of the container and came back up - a few drops bouncing over the top and onto Aimée's skin below. Another, then another, and another torrent spilled out of him and Aimée watched in amazement as he kept pouring the beautiful creamy fluid out.

"One hundred milliliters," she called after the first two gushes.

"Two hundred milliliters," she called as the jism kept flowing.

Claude's body shook with pleasure as it kept squeezing out drops -- now well over ten times what a typical human male could produce. He was finally done and came drifting to back down, settling into a chair with an exhausted smile.

"Two hundred and seventy milliliters," said Aimée, examining the vial. "Over a measuring-cup full."

"Top that Jake," he said, using the American nickname he'd picked up for his friend.

Aimée and Abby exchanged glances which the young men might have simply read as the girls being impressed by the amount. What they didn't see was the hint of caution between the two of them.

"Come on Abby," said Jacob, "do you think you can get it out of me."

"Oh, I think I can," said the blind empath.

She spun around to face him again, never leaving contact with his cock.

"Come on, my brother," she said. "You've got to protect the family reputation."

She started to thrust down upon him.

"An odd choice of words, given the situation," said Jacob.

They both would have laughed, were it not for the desperate fucking they were giving each other. Abby was grinding her hips with all of her might, squeezing her cunt muscles with the idea of milking cum out of her brother's cock. Jacob was pounding into her, rapidly approaching orgasm. Abby detected a similar lust in her brother and she did her best to quell the deepest hunger and simply keep his needs at the base human physical level, soothing his Affliction as best as she could to let it know that now was not the time to take a mate.

"Oh Abby!" cried Jacob as the first surge began. He pulled out of her, but was unable to stop it in time. She shifted forward and gave a cry of pleasure and dismay as she felt the hot blast across her back.

"Aimée, hurry with the vial!" she cried.

She climbed off of him rapidly as Aimée rushed over with the laboratory container. Jacob rolled over on his side, hanging his cock over the edge of the bed as Aimée aimed it into the glass.

Screwing up his face with every ounce of concentration, he willed a huge blast out which poured in a steady stream into the vial. Spurt after spurt poured out and Aimée helped him, squeezing from below his balls upward to get every last drop out.

Aimée examined the two vials carefully, but looked to Jacob with a sad expression.

"Two hundred and fifty five," she said.

"What about the first one?" protested Jacob. "I should get at least fifty milliliters credit for that."

"We can't know that," said Aimée.

"Scrape it off then," said Jacob, "put it in there, too."

"It's mostly dry," said Abby sadly. "And a lot came off on the covers when I rolled off of you."

"Damn it!" cried Jacob, though he was only half upset.

"Oh Jacob, just think of the lovely way you got to lose," said Abby with a reassuring kiss. "How wonderful it was to feel you again."

Aimée had been rather quiet. She was contemplating the two vials in her hand.

"Shame to see all of this go to waste, wouldn't you say, Abby?" she said.

"Mm, that would be a horrible thing," said the redhead.

Aimée crossed to her friend and lifted up the vial holding her brother's seed.

"Mouth open please," she said to Abby.

"If you insist."

Aimée lifted the vial to Abby's mouth, but instead of placing the rim to the redhead's lips, she held it higher, bidding Abby to hold her mouth open. With a slow and sensuous pour, as though dribbling syrup over pancakes, she let the contents begin to slowly drop over her friend's lips. Abby took a few swallows and then just let the cum pool in her mouth before flowing down her neck and breasts.

A hunger began to build in her own belly and Aimée lifted Jacob's vial to her own lips and performed a similar act.

For their part, Claude and Jacob could merely watch and admire as their sisters bathed themselves in love juice. It only got more exciting as Abby turned to Aimée for a taste of Jacob's cum, which she licked from Aimée's glistening nipple.

"It doesn't have the same effect when you swallow it," rationalized Abby. "There aren't as many nerves in the mouth, and they are a different type."

They had a lot of fun with that element before departing for the bathroom attached to that room, bringing the boys with them. Poor Jacob was forced to watch as the two girls bathed each other in the shower, and then pulled Claude in to join them -- giving him his reward. What Jacob didn't see was the way the girls carefully maneuvered things to that Claude would not have the chance to enter Aimée again.

Jacob sat on the counter as each of the girls sucked Claude to the edge, then brought him back down. Next Abby let him take her from behind, the water pouring over both of them as he pounded her so hard the water splashed everywhere.

Finally, Claude took flight with Abby. Aimée used that as an excuse to take pity on Jacob. She sat with him on the counter and stroked him vigorously as her brother fucked Abby mid-air in front of them. It was Jacob who came first this time, and Aimée pondered whether the fountain that poured from his long and elegant organ would have beaten Claude's winning amount.

How much Claude came was hard to tell, but he poured himself into Abby's hungry pussy and a very impressive amount leaked out, Abby's petite form not being able to contain his output.

A few minutes later the girls were gathering their clothes.

"Sorry boys, gotta go," said Aimée. "Maybe we'll see you in classes."

"How about tonight?" asked Claude.

"We talked about that," said Abby. "We can't risk this very often. You'll just have to satisfy your needs on the other girls."

She and Abby nodded in secret agreement.

Preparing to go, Abby reached out with her senses to scan for the presence of people in their own dorm.

"Oppo is... busy and we could startle him. Anders is... I can't get a lock on him. What about Jackie? Oh, there she is. She's asleep by herself, I believe. Here, let me show you."

Abby touched Aimée's shoulder and through the contact transmitted the presence of Jackie.

A few seconds later, Jackie awoke to the sound of a small 'pop'. She looked up drowsily to see Aimée and Abby climbing into other beds in the room.

* * * *

Frederique and Palo had explored every inch of their opulent temporary quarters. The gymnasium had certainly been put to great use, many many times. They had also 'explored' the master suite, the guest bedrooms, and every other room except the main kitchen and the pantry -- which were next on their list.

She tried not to resent Palo, who had had been allowed to attend combat training AND venture out into New York -- both in the Afflicted below areas as well as the surface during the night. His face was not plastered on countless statues and displayed on paintings in nearly every Afflicted household. That was the price one paid for becoming a martyr and then showing up alive nearly a century later.

Though the reports had run rampant through the community, Scaurus and his lieutenants had managed to sufficiently obscure the news that Frederique was alive so that the few who did know kept quiet, and those who thought they knew believed they'd been misinformed. The rumors had begun flying that it was not New York but St. Petersburg where Frederique had been seen. Others said that she was in fact heading up the new Christchurch, New Zealand settlement, and many others thought she was ensconced deep in the heart of the Iceland headquarters. There was also a majority of people who still believed that the rumors were false and their heroine was in fact dead.

Though she had protested, she knew in her heart that Scaurus was right in keeping her secluded. There had been too much odd behavior of late, and the way the black guard had attacked their ship had been too well planned to be coincidental.

All the same, it didn't stop her from being stir crazy. She had spent weeks aboard the Siren, the last two primarily below decks. Shortly after her arrival in New York she had been whisked off to this opulent home and kept there and she was not even allowed to see her children.

At least today, Scaurus had promised she would have a visitor.

She was sitting in the library, reading through a Latin volume she had last seen in her father's library over two-hundred years before. It was elegant poetry, last attributed to Cicero but actually belonging to the playwright Terrence. Reading the verses describing long-past battles, she could almost hear her father reciting it to her in her childhood. The work contained a few racy lines detailing the soldiers visit to a brothel following a battle, and for that reason the Catholic Church had destroyed all copies -- but here was one transcribed by a monk in Russia in the year 987.

The timing was perfect. She had just finished the final lines and closed the book, brushing back a few tears, when the bell rang. She dashed to the secret entrance which was accessible only by a little-known private tunnel. Peering through the prism'd and smoked viewport, she was able to make out Scaurus and Palo. All good, but no one new.

Her heart sank, but it would still be good to see Palo, who her body was yearning for. She moved to the mouthpiece. She contemplated what verification phrase she should use, and then noticed the slender volume of poetry still in her hand.

In correctly pronounced ancient Latin, she spoke:

"Legistis, male me marem putatis?"

She quickly peered through the viewport and was pleased to see Scaurus chuckling before he replied:

"Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo"

She threw the door open and hugged Scaurus fiercely.

"Ooh Scaurus, do you promise? Do you promise to fuck my ass and rape my mouth? How fun that would be, no?"

"Ah my dear," grumbled the old soldier, who tried to frown -- though he could never help himself from smiling in her presence. "I think I'll leave that to your warrior husband."

"Warrior, eh?" she said, leaping into Palo's arms. "That's quite a compliment, my dear; to be called a warrior by Scaurus."

"I'm improving, I think," said Palo humbly.

"He's doing more than that," said Scaurus. "He's risen to the top. He's learned to let the flying replace the footwork and to think on every axis. I'd put him up against anyone, Frederique."

"Even me?" she said, sliding out of Palo's arms and taking his hand in hers.

"My dear," said Scaurus, "I wouldn't put myself against you on a good day."

Palo looked at his wife in wonder. He had been working with Scaurus long enough to know the sort of praise this was.

"All of these years, darling," he said, "how easy were you going on me during training? How much effort were you putting into your fighting? Fifty percent?"

"Perhaps forty," she said. "But you learned well -- as much as I could teach you. As Scaurus told you, I'm not a good instructor. However, I should take you both into the gym right now and teach you a lesson. You promised to bring me someone today."

"Who says they didn't?" said a shockingly familiar voice.

Galen stepped out from behind the corner. Directly behind him was the young woman, Colette.

Frederique's hand flew to her mouth. Tears sprang to her eyes unbidden, but she soon brushed them away and looked at the ancient physician with an upturned chin.

"Who let this quack in? What sort of snake oil is he selling today?"

"The kind that can cure a six-hundred year old French whore of her wanton ways," said Galen, returning the volley. "Look at you, Frederique. Six centuries and you still haven't learned how to be any less beautiful."

"Who are you calling a whore?" she said. "I've never charged for it."

"That's because no one in all the world could afford you, my dear."

She dashed to him and hugged him fiercely, bathing his face in kisses.

"Oh my dear, dear man," she cried. "Where have you been? How I have missed you."

Truth be told, Galen himself was shedding more than a few tears. He pulled Frederique into a fierce hug that neither of them wanted to give up.
"But I was told you were... fading, was the word Scaurus used," said Frederique. "Is this true? If so, what has brought you back?"

"My dear, I was certainly in poor spirits," said the ancient physician. "In regard to what has brought me back, it would be this dear girl here."

For the first time, Frederique noticed Colette who had been standing in the background to witness the loving reunion.

"I would hardly say that," said the curvaceous and lovely woman. "It was you, Frederique - you and your children. When our beloved docteur heard you had resurfaced, and he learned of your gifted children faced with finding a mate -- he was an instantly changed man."

"My dear Galen," said Frederique warmly. "I should hardly think I was worth such attention -- but if I am truly the reason for you being here -- I am glad. But come, come inside. We have much to discuss."

"More than you would know," said Galen. "And I hope you don't mind, but Scaurus has suggested we take up residence here as well until we get everything sorted."

"I don't know," said Palo sarcastically. "We hardly have the room -- but I suppose we can squeeze you in."

"Good," said Scaurus. "The second kitchen will make a wonderful laboratory for Galen, and he has much work to do."

"This will be delightful," said Frederique.

She placed her arm through Galen's and led him in for a tour. At the same time, she couldn't help but notice the sideways glances Palo had been shooting toward Colette. More than a few ideas began percolating in the beautiful Frederique's mind.

"We can just stay a short while," said Galen. "I have something to attend to at the clinic today."

"But you will return today, yes?" asked Frederique, snuggling into him.

"Wild horses couldn't keep us away, my dear."

* * * *

"Again!" cried the sword master.

Her name was Maddie and she was an Irish taskmistress if ever there was one.

Claude dodged in and out, twisting his body at the same time as his thrust. Most other opponents would have been wounded or disarmed, but Claude was once again facing Oppo -- who anticipated the motion and parried Claude's blade aside. It took every ounce of luck and talent Claude could muster to avoid being wounded himself.

"Good, Oppo . Sloppy, Claude!" shouted Maddie. "How many times have I told you not to get fancy. Technique first, strength second."

If she weren't so lovely and didn't have such a hypnotic lilt with her Irish accent, Claude would have felt even more chastised. That was the difference between Scaurus and Maddie. Scaurus was the original old-school, shouting the lessons into them. Maddie was tough, but nurturing.

The only difficulty with having Maddie as an instructor was her beauty.

She was not a slender reed by any means, but that made her even more desirable. Surrounded as they were by youthful and slender bodies which were lovely but had yet to ripen, Maddie's broad hips and ample bosom (earned through two centuries of strong appetites) made her seem more attractive by comparison in many ways. Every one of the male cadets had experienced at least one fantasy-filled dream about what it might be to lay with Maddie. The tightly laced battle corset she wore did not help matters, pushing her ample assets even higher.

Scaurus had once asked her about her choice in clothing for training, and he had found her reasoning was sound.

"It's not like their lives will ever be free of the lasses," she explained. "There will always be a woman round the corner or on their minds. With this damned Affliction driving their loins, sex will always be occupying more of their thoughts than a typical human male. If they've been bedded hours ago in the dorm and can't keep their minds off a nice pair of tits in training, how are they going to be when they've been in the field for three days?"

Of course, she didn't mention to Scaurus that she certainly didn't mind the attention.

She called the trainees to the ground and stood in the center of the group. Maddie began talking and noticed a couple of sets of eyes drifting downward. Claude was one, so she took his chin in her hand and lifted his face so his eyes met hers.

"Now listen, Claude -- you are turning into a good flier and you've got a lightning arm -- but you need to learn to fly just as quickly as you think."

Looking into his eyes, she could sense his frustration and saw he was about to say something, but was holding back.

"What is it, lad?" she asked. "What do you want to say?"

"Well, it's just yesterday you said that I needed to stop thinking. Now you're saying I need to fly as quickly as I think."

"I know, I know," she said, giving an affectionate slap to his cheek. "The point is, you need to make thought and flight synonymous. How to put this? Well, let me ask. How many of you have ever had sex?"

A chuckle went through the crowd. With the sexual hunger brought on by the Affliction, the question was beyond ridiculous.

"The point is," said Maddie, "when you have sex -- when you have terrifically good, stunning sex, you surrender yourself to the moment, right?"

They all nodded, realizing the truth of her words.

"Then think of this, young people," she said. "You are humans capable of flight. Millions of people would give their right arms for that ability. Surrender to flight like you do to sex. Yes, you must be careful. However, it is surprising to learn that caution comes more naturally than you would expect. Birds do not contemplate the consequences should they pull out of a dive too late. They just do. When you fly you must do the same. Just fly. If you fly with the same speed as your thoughts you will be unstoppable. Trust me on this."

She considered what the best course might be to take. She bade them to wait and then swooped up to peer over the top of the fort. It was a clear night, which was bad -- but there was a fairly open path through the harbor among the ships. She made her decision and swooped back down to retrieve the students.

Soon, there was a line of cadets skimming the water toward the marshes in New Jersey. Once there, Maddie spied an island and landed.

With the students around her, she said one simple word.

"Play."

They looked to each other curiously.

"I said, play," she stated quite simply. "That is your assignment. We've got two hours before we need to return. Your job is, plain and simple, to play. It isn't very often that you have the chance to just frolic about. That's what you should do now. No one lives in these marshes so you won't be seen. Go and play."

It took a little while, but one by one, the students departed and began flying off on their own.

At first Claude flew up to get a view of the great marsh. From the ground, it was deceptively tangled -- but when he viewed it from above, he saw that there was a sort of structure to the randomness. There were channels throughout the marsh, some longer than others, but they all joined together for the most part, forming a huge, natural maze.

He studied the pattern at length and decided on a course he wished to set for himself.

Swooping down, he gained more and more speed and then leveled off as he neared the water.

Push and pull, push and pull; that was the trick to better flying. The air was both his friend and his enemy. If he collapsed the air ahead of him, he needed to spend little effort on moving forward. He smiled at the ripple he created on the surface of the water. That ripple came from the vacuum he was creating.

He stopped then, and contemplated what the possibilities might be. His mother was a true master of the craft. She could levitate and grab objects, all by reaching out and shaping currents of air with mindboggling expertise. Claude was nowhere near that sort of talent, not yet. But, he had a good imagination and had a few ideas.

To test this, he reached out with his mind and eliminated the air in front of a small willow-like shrub. It bent toward him. Next, he pushed the air from the other side and he watched with satisfaction as the top bent down toward the water. He grinned as he released everything and the supple shrub sprang back to an upright position. He next tried to single out a single cattail and pull it toward him in a similar fashion -- to no avail. Were he hovering directly next to the shrub, he knew he would be able to coerce the tiny plant toward him. From a distance, he still didn't have the ability to manufacture such precise forces.

He turned his thoughts back to the water. His attention had been caught by the shapes he had been causing in the water. It didn't seem to merely be due to the air that he caused to rush past - there seemed to be other forces working.

He focused on a large circle in the water and collapsed the air above it. He watched in fascination as the surface of the water bowed upward toward the center of the spot he was focusing on. It was only the surface tension of the water that kept it in place. He increased his concentration and pulled even harder, the circle raised even higher, but there was a point where it would go no further.

Though he had been overtaken by bloodlust, he still had hazy memories of once when Frederique had actually scooped a stream of water. He so wished he could see her soon, not only to be near her, but to get her advice on all of the things he was learning.

He continued playing with the water and suddenly made a breakthrough. It came back to the push/pull scenario. Not only did he need to pull the water free with a vacuum; he had to find a way to push at the same time, using inward air to shape whatever water he was manipulating.

Try though he might, he could not get the hang of it. At last, out of frustration, he pulled upward on the surface of the water and sent a great circular breeze in on the sides of the circle he had formed.

The results were almost comical. He had been pulling so hard at the surface that the air he sent downward set a huge amount of the pool free and skyward. Within moments, a small rainstorm was falling down upon him.

He was soaked. There was nothing else for it but to fly around for a while to let the air dry him off.

He flew upward, surveyed the landscape once more, then set a course in his mind. Swooping down, he rushed over the surface of a long channel.

He came to a gentle curve and used a new technique which Scaurus had taught him the week prior. Just as creating a vacuum helped him move forward -- a cushion could help him steer much more effectively than simply directing his body. He banked into the turn and at the same moment pulled air toward him, creating a miniature cushion of breeze that actually pushed him in the right direction. He continued navigating the channels, dipping his finger into water for fun.

Soon, he came to a tighter series of channels, where the turns often came at a right angle or even tighter. Claude slowed his pace, but resolved to not make it easy on himself. He figured that, worst case scenario, he could escape upwards, but the 'track' he had outlined in his mind was one he wanted to complete at as high a speed as possible.

He swooshed one way and another, banking through tighter and tighter turns with growing excitement. He increased his speed and was sailing through the marsh channels. He couldn't help but shout out a great whoop at how exhilarating he was feeling. There were several moments where his flight was truly effortless, or thought-less, his mind and his body working synchronously in flight.

Then he turned a corner, going full speed, and his spirits were suddenly dampened. Before him was a hill he had not seen from the sky. Atop the hill was a copse of thick trees. Impact was unavoidable. Unless...

* * * *

Aimée was exhausted. She had spent two hours in jumping practice and was now supposed to serve as a courier.

"We're short of deplaceurs," explained Bullet. "There's a lot of movement right now and we have too much post to take care of."

"Post?" complained Aimée. "When do I get to start moving people?"

"When the council deems it appropriate," said Bullet. "Deplaceurs are rare enough as it is. Should word get out that we have another, the questions will soon follow about who your parents are."

So Aimée began the rather tedious exercise of postal duty.

She found it ironic that her primary pickup point was Reykjavik, yet the only room she had ever seen in the Afflicted capitol was the central postal room.

The system was actually quite simple. Each center had a room with mail slots around the edges much like a standard post office. The primary difference from an mortal post office was the fact that there was no door into the central room, and no way to enter short of a battering ram. Each slot was safety locked, so that no one could open any of the mail slots while the jump-couriers were retrieving the contents of any single one. The size of the slots ranged from those small enough to hold a small scroll or envelope, up to those which held larger boxes.

While it seemed trivial, the postal service of the Afflicted was anything but. Often it was time-sensitive materials like blood samples or supplies. There was also the issue of correspondence -- long ago it had been decided that no sort of letter was truly harmless in the wrong hands, no matter how innocuous the material might seem. All correspondence, be it a post card, a romantic letter, or a detailed document about Afflicted business, it all had to travel via trusted hands.

Financially, the Afflicted had long enjoyed an advantage with their ability to deliver advanced information about the various markets, though that edge had been diminished by the advent of trans-oceanic telegraph lines. The last item that was often transported was produce and other food items. It seemed pedestrian, but a large amount of what the deplaceurs moved about was food. They sent tomatoes from Italy to Norway, steaks from Texas to New York, rare fish from Chile to the restaurants of Paris. The members of the Afflicted enjoyed a diet of food which was equal to that enjoyed only by the royalty and most wealthy of the day.

One of the skills Aimée was still learning was how to combine different hops between cities. A large box had to be taken on its own. However, if she was taking smaller pieces she was able to combine multiple routes, three to Vienna, pick up, on to Cologne, etc. Brolly showed an amazing aptitude for it, and he tutored her in easy formulas she could use to calculate the easiest and most efficient jumps.

Beyond the calculations, it was relatively mindless work -- so she at least had time to dwell on her times with Jacob over the past weeks -- and also with Claude that very morning.

* * * *

Abby had been kept rather busy at the New York clinic. There had been more fights than usual and two more encounters with the Black Guard. Luckily, they had lost no lives and no prisoners had been taken -- but there were still some significant injuries.

For an Afflicted to be injured enough to report to the clinic meant they were in very rough shape. Today's victim was a severed hand. It was a Cassandra, a cohort of Bullet who had drawn duty guarding a council member who had business above. They had run across two swordsmen who clearly worked for the guard and Cassandra had matched swords with them easily. However, one of the opponents had pulled out a pistol in desperation and in attempting to shield the Council member, Cassandra had lost the advantage.

The end result was a bullet to her shoulder, which was already healing nicely. However, the true damaged was that her hand had been severed several inches above the wrist and the limb had gone a bit too long before they put it on ice.

It was Abby's job to soothe Cassandra, and she was doing that well. Madame Villepreux-Power was doing her best to stem any further tissue loss, but the amount of damage had her greatly concerned. Though the abilities of the Afflicted were remarkable, there were still limits.

Abby had become much better at offloading pain than she had once been. She still remembered the first time she had helped a friend who had a broken arm. The pain had been her own as the doctor had set the bone. Now she knew to let the nervous energy flow through her. She thought of it like a fountain in a way. The pain flowed into Abby's body, dampened, and then she used a mental image of that force flowing out into scattered remnants in the air.

"You are amazing," said Cassandra in wonder. "I felt like I was near death and then you touched me. For all I know I could get up and walk about almost like normal if it weren't for my hand."

"It's the least I can do," said Abby.

Abby watched as Madame Villepreux-Power continued pouring a saline solution over the severed ends. Cassandra was holding the stump in a basin and the hand was in another sink, both of them not unlike those found beside dentist chairs. The water flowed over the ends and then poured into the drain. Being so connected to all things ocean, it was the great biologist's favorite way to work. When she had joined the Afflicted, she had discovered she had great healing powers -- but it still had much to do with fluids. If there was blood involved, she was at her best. When it came to mending bones, she had to work a bit harder and found the greatest success when working her way from the marrow outward.

"What does the water do?" asked Cassandra.

With no pain, she was watching the process with great fascination. The Afflicted, by nature, were seldom squeamish about blood or injuries. It wasn't simply that they were drawn to blood. With their strong healing powers. They were also injured more often in training and battles.

"Blood and the ocean," explained Madame Villepreux-Power, "are surprisingly similar. Both are rich in life and have a strong mixture of salt and water. I have stemmed the flow of blood from your arm inside, but I am keeping the ends as nourished as I can with this solution."

"Will you be able to reattach it?" the patient asked fearfully.

"I have two answers to that," said Villepreux-Power in a frank tone. "It was not a clean cut. I could trim the damage off of both ends but it would be a rather inelegant fix. Your arm would be shorter and the merged portion would be uneven. If I must, I will do just that, but I am hoping I can find a way to make you as good as new and I have a friend coming along to help."

Who that friend was soon became apparent. Abby felt the presence long before he entered the room.

Though the Afflicted maintained youthful bodies, there was a difference when it came to age. Even those with other gifts could tell. There was a different set of the eyes, a different approach to life when one had centuries of experience under their belt. For Abby, the difference was even more magnified. She could still remember the time she had met a first-bitten, Antoninus. His presence had been wise and peaceful.

This presence that Abby sensed was both ancient, but also terribly curious. Antoninus had been content and confident... but also staid. It was as though he had figured this thing called 'life' out and didn't need to learn new things beyond keeping up with the changes in the world. This person that Abby had sensed was certainly confident but he continued to wish to learn. She probed toward it, trying to learn his... yes it was definitely a 'him'. However, as she reached out, she felt her probing rebuked.

She would soon learn who it was. The door opened and a man with a salt and pepper beard entered with a beautiful companion.

"Thank god you are here, Galen," said Villepreux-Power, "I've kept things stable, but I'd desperately like to restore things before grafting it back on."

"Very good, very good," said Galen.

Abby had barely been able to suppress a gasp of surprise at the man's name. She reached out again to see what she could learn of him. This time she was met with a solid wall of resistance.
Galen began to examine the arm and the severed hand, not even sparing a glance for Abby.

"I would thank you, young empath, to mind your manners," he said. "As nice as your gift might be, you need to learn some lessons about snooping where you aren't welcome."

Abby blushed furiously. She had never before met someone who could even detect her gifts, let alone deflect them.

"I am most sorry, doctor," she said.

Cassandra let out a moan of pain as Abby's focus wavered from her embarrassment.

"Apology accepted," said Galen. "Now please see to your patient again, it does make our job so much easier."

Abby reapplied her soothing and Cassandra's face quickly eased again with a smile of gratitude toward Abby.

"Now then, now then -- let us look."

Galen examined the wound.

"Damn. Large blade, clumsy cut, you must have been shielding yourself, ooh, I see a bullet wound. Damned guns, I never did like them."

Galen kept muttering to himself. He looked over the wound before turning to Cassandra herself. He took her face in his hands and peered deep into her eyes. Abby could tell he was doing more, reaching into her system and examining all of her parts, but after being chastised she didn't dare look any more closely.

"Colette my dear," said Galen. "Have a look at her, would you? See what you can do to strengthen her as much as you can."

The lovely younger woman nodded and moved in to sit by Cassandra.

"Now, Cassandra is it?" said Colette.

Cassandra nodded.

"Cassandra, your body has taken a heavy blow. Even though it is healing, your system is still reeling. For us to help you heal and get this hand reattached, it will need all of the help it can get. I'm going to stimulate the proper glands within you to send energy and healing to all the parts that need it. It is nothing abnormal, I'm just tutoring your body, you might say. Are you ready?"

Again, Cassandra nodded.

Abby watched Cassandra's face flush and a smile come to her face as a wash of 'good' began streaming through her body.

"Oh my," said Cassandra. "Can you do that for me any time?"

"It is lovely, isn't it?" said Colette. "But no, it is reserved for emergencies. It is best to allow your body to keep things in balance as it sees fit under normal circumstances."

"Now Colette, if you would do one last sweep through the cuts."

"Of course, doctor," said Colette.

She looked down on the wounds and one by one, tiny bits of dead flesh fell off into the saline solution to be washed away. It took perhaps ten minutes, but soon every remaining bit of flesh was pink and vibrant.

"Very good, dear," said Galen.

"Now are you going to reattach it?" asked Madame Villepreux-Power.

"No, you are," said Galen.

"But I can't," complained the woman. "I mean, I could -- but the loss there, it is uneven."

"And," said Galen patiently, "you are going to regrow it."

"But I don't know how."

"Jeanne," said Galen. "What use are your remarkable gifts if you don't use them to the fullest."

"But Galen," protested the scientist. "I truly don't know how."

"But you do," said Galen. "Tell me Jeanne, what is that nickname the English use for your countrymen?"

"Frogs," said Villepreux-Power with a roll of her eyes.

"Frogs indeed. Think of frogs and you need look no further than those amphibious creatures to find your answer."

"I do not understand, Galen."

"My dear, I am sure you had the pleasure of finding frog's eggs when you were a girl, yes?"

"Oh, I did that," said Cassandra. "We found them in a pond and we put them in a glass bowl. We watched them grow arms and legs, and lose their tails and once they were small frogs we put them back in the pond."

"So did I," said Madame Villepreux-Power. "But I don't see the point."

"The point is," said Galen, "that if I took a frog with its front leg chopped off, I wouldn't be able to help it. However, I was able to watch that same leg grow. Those same cells knew how to grow at one point. Now Jeanne, I know you have peered many times into the womb of a woman who is with child. You must have, with your fascination of the ocean. I would imagine you love paying a visit to that little infant swimming in the waters of life, yes?"

"Of course," said the biologist.

"Then here is the secret. That little human pollywog, it knows how to grow. This is the great mystery of the human cells. How can they know how to do something as remarkable as grow brand new tissue and bone -- and then somehow forget it? The information is still there? Of course, it is a matter of survival. If our bones kept growing indefinitely, we would grow to be giants. The point is, the cells still know how to grow -- you just need to teach them how once more."

Madame Villepreux-Power contemplated the idea and then began reaching out with her mind. Unwittingly, Abby was compelled to follow the train of thought and energy, since she was still connected with Cassandra to ease her pain. She witnessed the biologist's mind reaching out and delving deep into the cells. After quite a bit of experimentation, Villepreux-Power was finally able to communicate with the individual cells. They were not smart. Each had one job, and one job only. Convincing it of anything else was difficult. Abby smiled as she saw Villepreux-Power's thoughts racing through the countless creatures she knew; pollywogs, urchins, clams, mussels, and recalled the times those things grew.

Finally, the scientist hit on the right message and sent it out. The 'minds' of the cells suddenly switched. They were no longer mature -- they were infants. Their job, now, was to reproduce. The slow sequence began.

Madame Villepreux-Power gasped in excitement.

"Why, Galen," she said. "I could have it grow all the way. I could have her grow an entirely new hand!"

"You could indeed," said Galen, giving the woman an encouraging pat on the shoulder. "However, that is a great deal of work for poor Cassandra here. Since we have the hand, let's just let the two ends find each other and do as they wish."

The hand was a bit more of a challenge -- though it was still alive, it was disconnected and seemed to be in a state of deep shock. Madame Villepreux-Power understood, however, and once the end of Cassandra's arm had grown to the correct length, she placed the hand against it. The cells began to commune and the hand 'woke up' for lack of a better word. It also reverted back to some sort of embryotic state and began to grow as well. The two sides began to merge. Perhaps a half an hour later, the hand was reattached, and there was no sign of a scar.

As it had gone on, Abby had felt Cassandra growing more and more drowsy. Her eyelids were barely open when the merge was complete.

"Should I?" she whispered to the other three, indicating what she could do by passing her free hand over her eyes.

Galen gave a nod and Abby willed Cassandra into a deeper sleep so that her body might complete the healing and rejuvenation process.

They quietly slipped into the hall.

"Thank you, Galen," said Madame Villepreux-Power. "I feel I have grown by leaps and bounds today. Thank you for coming back to us."

"You are welcome," said Galen. "Now, if you ladies will excuse us, I would like to spend some time with this rather precocious young empath here. Abby, I believe?"

Abby nodded, awed at the powerful presence Galen continued to emanate. She was also a bit blind. After being remonstrated by the doctor, she was cautious about borrowing his eyes (or anyone else's) after the reprimand he had given her.

"Good then, Abby, please come with me."

He led her into the next examining room and closed the door.

"Well then, strip," he said calmly.

"But I... but you..."

"But, but, but -- what seems to be the problem?" asked Galen.

"It's just, you look into everywhere with your mind, I don't see why I would need to."

"Young lady," said Galen. "You are an empath, by all accounts a powerful one. Tell me, where are you most effective? When you are standing apart from someone? Or, when parts of your skin are touching theirs?"

"I see, yes," said Abby. "If I am touching them, it is infinitely more effective."

"Then you must understand, my role here is to thoroughly inspect you for the Council. I have been tasked with doing a full analysis of you and your little group of friends. If I'm to do so, I need to be most thorough. I will add, I have seen more naked bodies in my life than you can possibly imagine in both erotic and clinical settings. If there is a time for modesty, it isn't now. Please. Strip."

Abby did as he ordered and Galen pulled out a notepad and pen.

"Would you look at this?" he said pointing to the ornate fountain pen in his hand. "The years I spent sharpening quills, I do so love these new inventions."

He began scrawling out a few notes, in Latin, Abby surmised.

"Lay down," said Galen while he was still writing.

Abby felt her way to the bed and got up.

"Why are you stumbling about like that, girl?" he asked.

"You... you were upset when I was 'snooping', so I didn't want to borrow your eyes.

"How remarkable," said Galen. "How we do adapt so quickly. You're like a three-legged dog. No please, feel free to use my eyes or ears, or what have you. Just don't go any further, it is annoying and rude to probe into the consiousness -- especially among friends."

"I'm sorry, Doctor," she said. "I'll be more considerate from now on."

"I understand, dear," said Galen. "And I've heard you've put these talents to quite amazing use in the training circle."

"It does help," said Abby modestly.

"I'm sure it does more than help, dear," said Galen. "Seeing through your enemy's eyes. Thinking your enemy's thoughts. Generals time immemorial would have traded their right arms for that sort of gift. Now, just lay back and relax, we'll have a look. Would you like to look with me?"

"Oh, yes please," said Abby.

"Good. Just so you know, I will keep certain areas of my mind off-limits, but it seems only fair that if I'm going to poke around inside of you that you go along for the ride."

Galen proceeded to work his way from her feet upwards. To an outside observer, it wouldn't have looked much different than a regular physical exam. To Abby, however, she could see that when he placed his hands on different places, for example her thighs, he was extending his consciousness through his hands into her muscle system, examining the muscles, tendons and bones beneath with the expert eye of one who had been studying the human anatomy for the greater part of written human history.

He moved upward from there and stopped at her belly. Pushing in as a regular doctor might have felt for an inflamed appendix or blocked intestine, she sensed his awareness soaring through her digestive and circulatory system. He moved to her heart, then her lungs. Next, he placed his hands on her temples and entered her mind. It was fascinating. Where Abby entered a mind through feelings and thoughts, Galen looked at it from a physical perspective. Abby watched in wonder as she saw a lightning storm of activity as cells in her own head talked to one another.

She then felt him exploring her eyes.

"Fascinating," said Galen.

"What is it, sir?" she asked.

"Please, just call me Galen," said the physician. "I should think the name itself commands enough respect. No sir or doctor is necessary. Abby, what I find fascinating is your vision. When you lost your sight, your Affliction began taking over. In a way, it is like it strengthened your gift for the sole purpose of helping you see again. It was like it couldn't repair your eyes, so it found a way to allow you to borrow others. I have a very serious question for you?

"What is that, Galen?" asked Abby.

"Do you wish to see again?"

Abby gasped. The enormity of the proposal was overwhelming.

"Truth is, there is every chance that I could repair your ocular nerves, and you would still have all of your other remarkable abilities. However, the Affliction is an unpredictable beast. There is a slight possibility that if I cured you, your gifts would diminish. The Affliction might feel you no longer need your amazing talents."

"But don't you know?" asked Abby. "I mean, you are Galen. After all of this time, with all of your knowledge. Don't you know what might happen if you restored my vision?"

"My dear, I am without a doubt the greatest doctor who has ever lived -- and I say that with surprising humility. I say 'with humility' because our knowledge, even that of the Afflicted, is terribly limited. I can simply say that the chances are good of you retaining your gifts if I make the repairs, but I can't promise anything."

"I think for now then, I will stay as I am."

"Good girl," he said. "There is always time."

He moved his hands downward again. One hand, he placed on her right wrist, the other, he placed on her left breast, directly over her heart. Here, his knowledge left her behind. She had understood his earlier explorations but now Galen was diving into the very cellular level, examining the red and white blood cells and their companion cells of the Affliction. He was in a place she could not understand, even by viewing it through his mind.

She did not need to be an empath to sense the change in his mood. Though she was not delving, she could sense a variety of emotions. Concern at the forefront, but also anger and disappointment.

"Galen, what is it?"

"Oh, nothing," he said softly. "I just... I don't like it when people don't follow orders. "

The examination done, Abby put her clothes back on, but was disturbed at how Galen had grown strangely quiet.

"Abby," he said. "I'd like you to stay here. In this room. I'll be back to speak to you in a while."

"Oh, all right," said Abby, confused.

She was going to ask more questions, but Galen was already gone.

In the hallway, Galen turned to Colette.

"Fetch me security," he said. "Be quiet about it. Please get word back to the Academy that I want Frederique's children, and Abby's brother to be sent here." To another guard, he spoke in serious tones. "Please go in and stay with Abby -- do not leave her side."

* * * *

Jacob was invisible. He had been training with the Council's top spies for some time. Of course they envied his gift, but Jacob envied them in return. The way they could hide in plain sight was always amazing.

Here they were in the meat-packing district, the early hours of the morning. They had located a warehouse that they believed was the main New York office for the Black Guard. He was standing next to a light pole, looking directly into the door. The other two operatives he was with were standing about and mingling with the workers at the other butchers. They were so masterful at blending in, not even the people they were working beside suspected anything.

Jacob sensed a sudden flurry of activity.

From all areas of the city, people began to filter in. Though their collars were high and their hats were low, he was fairly certain he recognized at least three leaders of the enemy. He leaned close and watched intently as they began to gather in the inner room. At least twenty guards were posted outside the warehouse. He watched his companions slip away to safer locations down the street. If anyone was to learn anything this evening, it would be him.

* * * *

Claude returned to the rendezvous point at the appointed time. He was still a bit soaked, but had a huge grin on his face as he landed amidst the other students..

"Well now, Claude," said Maddie. "How did you fare with your play time?"

"Better than you can imagine," said Claude. "Wait until you see what I learned.

"We'd love to see it," said Maddie.

"Good, come with me," he said.

"Very well," said their flight/fighting instructor. "But this will be all for the day. We'll need to get back."

Claude flew them to a large pool he'd discovered in the center of the marsh. He bade them to form a circle around it, around two hundred feet up, and simply watch. He flew up, higher and higher until the pond was a mere bull's eye far below, encircled by the others of his class and Maddie.

He began his descent. This was no free fall, but a Peregrine plummet -- his only chore was to clear the air below him so that he didn't reach terminal velocity for regular air - and in the equivalent of a pure vacuum, he began descending faster and faster.

The Cadets watched him approach with concern. He was coming at a speed far too rapid to stop with an air buffer or even a last-minute swoop outward. A couple of them screamed as they saw him growing closer. They were quickly convinced that Claude was on a suicidal mission. Even Maddie couldn't suppress a gasp as he thundered past them.

Then, the impossible happened. The entire pool suddenly surged upward and it was though a thousand jets of air blew into it. Instead of a shallow pool perhaps ten feet deep there was now a column of frothy water more than ten times that height. Claude flipped forward so his back was facing the earth and his classmates saw his smiling face disappear into the huge watery column.

Water shot everywhere. Frothy, bubbly water. By the time his classmates had wiped the water from their eyes, the column was gone and the pool was rapidly filling in again from all of the surrounding channels in the marshes.

Looking down, they saw Claude. He was standing in the center of the pool and just stood confidently as the water poured in and slowly lifted him up as it grew deeper.,

"What the hell was that?" asked Oppo, swooping down.

"That," said Claude, "was the Claude braking process. I'll be filing a patent application next week."

"How did you discover that lovely trick, my boy?" asked Maddie.

"I was going too fast," he explained to the group as they flew back to the fort, low over the water. "I was whooshing through the marsh on a low, tight course and I miscalculated. All of a sudden there was a hill in front of me and there was nothing I could do. But, I'd been playing with water earlier, and I'd been trying out the air-reinforced turns that Scaurus had taught us. Just like that, my mind and my actions were connected. I imagined a wall of water and air that could at least buffer me and I made it happen. Sure, I splashed through it and got the wind knocked out of me in the hillside, but that was all. I started testing things after that, and I arrived at the water brake. Technically, it is air and water -- the bubbles kind of triple soften the blow -- but it works."

"It certainly does," agreed Maddie. "You'll have to teach us all, and soon."

Back at the fort, Maddie pulled Claude aside and led him to a private area reserved for instructors.

"Claude, you lovely young man," she said as they entered what looked to be a small office with its own large tub already filled with water, "I'm right proud of you today. I believe you turned a major corner, and I think that deserves a reward."

"Oh, thank you," said Claude.

Her back was turned to him, and she seemed to be doing something with her hands.

"Now then, boyo, how about you come and claim it?"

She turned to face him and his jaw dropped at least a few inches. Her top was unlaced and quickly slipped off, revealing her massive and wonderful breasts. She then easily stepped out of her fighting breaches to display her full, muscular, ripe figure in all of its glory.

"What say you, Claudio -- care to wash this marsh water off of us and see where it leads?"

Claude could merely nod in assent and quickly step out of his own clothes. She took him gently by the hand and led him into the large, walk-in tub full of steamy, soapy water. She scrubbed him with a tenderness belied by her rough warrior exterior. He also enjoyed washing her down, his hands spreading soap across breasts so large they were hard to imagine.
Eventually, her strong hand came to rest on his swollen member. She pushed her massive orbs into him and purred into his ear.

"Oh Claude, I've heard some wonderful tales about this young stallion's abilities. Please tell me it's true, for I've built up a terrible thirst with all of our flying today. Do you have a nice long drink waiting for me down there?"

Claude could only nod.

"Wonderful," she whispered.

But it was not to be. Just as she was preparing to mount him in the steaming water, a knock came at the door.

"Who is it," she said, with a touch of annoyance in her voice.

"I'm sorry Maddie," said the voice on the other side of the door. "But we're looking for Claude. He is to report to the clinic at once. Full escort required."

"Ah well," said Maddie with a shrug. "Another day, my boy. Another day."

* * * *

Aimée had just completed a seven city run, and was quite proud of herself. The Reykjavik post office was now officially empty for the day, and she had finished every one of her assigned runs, plus three optional routes. With a look of satisfaction on her face, she popped out of the Sitka office and into the Deplaceur hub to log her activities.

The site that met her there was not what she expected. Standing there, with stern expressions on their faces, were Bullet, Brolly, and Dinsen -- a jumper she had only met briefly in passing.

"Hello," she said. "Is something wrong?"

"You're coming with us," said Brolly. "Bracelet ready?"

"Yes," said Bullet.

"Good then, come on," said Brolly.

All three of them placed hands on her shoulders.

"But what's happened?" she asked, confused. "Where are we go..."

She never finished her final word. They had winked out and back into the waiting lounge of the clinic.

Bullet reached over and snapped an ornate looking bracelet around Aimée's wrist.

"That's a dampener," said Bullet. "It was invented by the Clockmaker. No deplaceur wearing it can jump."

"But why would I want to jump?" asked Aimée.

"We wouldn't know," said Brolly, "we just know we were sent a top priority code to bring you here. With luck, we'll see you later."

"With luck? But what do you mean?" she asked in a panic.

Brolly and Dinsen were already gone, popping out with not so much as a goodbye. Bullet remained and led Aimée by the arm down a hallway that twisted and turned until it stopped outside a massive door. Inside, she could hear a man shouting, and what sounded like Brana's voice shouting right back.

Bullet knocked and they were let in.

The sight she saw raised the alarms in her head even more. It was a large, round room with a matching table in the center which formed a huge 'O' with only one opening to the center. Her mother and father were there, sitting with arms crossed in two of the outside chairs. Brana was there, as was Scaurus. Most alarming, Claude and Abby were placed in the center. Claude was shackled to one chair in the center, and Abby was placed in a large glass booth that seemed to shimmer with an unnatural light.

Near Brana was an older looking man with a beard, and to his side was a stunning, buxom woman who was watching with rather patient eyes.

"Ah, she's here," said Brana, snapping at the man. "You can ask her for yourself, Galen."

Aimée was led by Bullet into the center area of the table and then pushed down to sit in an empty chair.

"Is she shackled?" asked Brana.

"She has the bracelet," said Bullet. "She won't be hopping anywhere right now."

"Good," said their dorm mother.

Brana was one of the most nurturing, motherly people in the world, but Aimée had never seen the sort of steely expression she was now wearing on her face.

Aimée tried to catch eyes with Claude but could not, and Abby's gaze was obscured behind the glass in the booth they had her in.

"Now then, let's have a look at these two," said Galen.

Galen crossed to Claude and put his hand on the back of the young man's neck. Closing his eyes, Galen seemed to be concentrating deeply. His hand went from Claude's neck and then drifted down onto the young man's chest as he continued his internal examination. He shook his head in anger when he was done and then moved to Aimée.

He placed a rather brusque hand on her neck and she experienced a very palpable sensation of something exploring every minute corner of her interior. As he had with Claude, Galen's hand shifted downward, beneath Aimée's blouse and coming to rest on her breast -- but there wasn't the slightest sexual overtone. She felt almost paralyzed as the physician's awareness rushed through her body. When he withdrew, she felt violated in a way -- not sexually, but intimately -- she had a feeling at that moment that Galen knew everything about her.

She was about to have her feelings confirmed.

"What were my orders?" asked Galen. "When I sent orders from France, what specifically did I say?"

Brana's chin was raised in defiance.

"You said to keep them separated," she said. "That the siblings were to remain apart AND that they were not to have intimate contact with each other.

"Yes, on two separate occasions," said Galen. "Once in my initial communication, and then in a more specific missive that said the children of Frederique La Teilière were to be kept entirely separate from the empath and her brother."

"That is what we have done," said Brana. "They have been closely monitored at the academy and they have been kept in separate dorms. We log all comings and goings, they have never left the dorms without our knowledge.

"Yet this girl is a deplaceur," said Galen. "What would have stopped her from leaving any time she wished?"

"She could have," interjected Bullet. "But she would not have been able to return, nor would she have been able to deplace into the other dorm. Both buildings have flex rooms fully installed, she would never be able to get a fix."

"Then explain to me," said Galen, his voice raising in volume by the second. "How it is that they have been fucking each other. This Claude has absolutely been spending a great deal of time with our lovely empath and I'm fairly certain that Aimée has been sleeping with Jacob."

"Impossible, I tell you," said Brana.

"Further!" shouted Galen. "I was MOST specific that the siblings be kept apart until I arrived, yet I find a shocking resonance between Claude and Aimée; a resonance that should have diminished by now -- but I find has recently been reinforced."

He turned to Aimée and glared directly in her face.

"Tell me that it isn't true," he said. "Look me in the eyes and tell me that your Affliction, which is singing out with joy that it has been reunited with its first sexual mate, tell me that your symbiote is lying to me. Have you, or have you not lain with your brother within the past forty-eight hours?"

Aimée could only respond by looking down.

Palo and Frederique exchanged alarmed glances with each other. Surprisingly, it was Palo who looked more concerned than outraged.

Galen turned to Claude.

"Tell me young stallion, how much seminal fluid have you been producing of late? A great deal, yes?"

"Yes, Doctor," said Claude quietly.

"Do you know why?" said Galen. "It is because your body is preparing for its bloodmate -- the bloodmate we are to select, not you. The bloodmate who you should not be joined with for another few years at least -- yet you have chosen to take things into your own hands."

"How?" said Scaurus, crossing in to face the three youths. "How have you been able to broach the best defenses of our kind?"

It seemed Abby was trying to speak, but the booth in which she was enclosed -- intended to dampen her empath abilities -- also damped sound. Scaurus opened the door of the booth, but held up a cautioning hand to let Abby know not to step out.

"Go on, speak," said the grizzled veteran.

"It was me," said Abby. "Well, it was Aimée and me together. If I can find a strong enough connection to a person, I share it with Aimée and she can take us there. That is how we were getting into the other dorm -- I would fixate on Claude or Jacob. To get back I would seek out the presence of a classmate who was sleeping. No one else knew about this beyond the four of us, I promise you."

The impact of her statement brought a palpable chill to the room.

Aimée spoke up.

"It was all us, and we are sorry for disobeying. We willingly accept any punishment you wish to give us."

"Punishment?" said Scaurus in a dire tone. "Is that what you think this is about? A slap on the wrist? This goes far beyond demerits, girl. The stakes for the four of you could not be any higher."

* * * *

Jacob had crept closer -- closer than was advisable, but he had to hear what was happening. There was a great gathering inside -- at least four hundred men and women, raptly listening to a speaker at the back of the building.

He worked his way through the crowd. Packed though it was, he was able to slip back and forth to the empty spaces. He eventually his way to the front and was able to get a good look at the man who was speaking.

He wasn't much to look at. His features were rodent-like and he was perhaps thirty years of age. His speaking voice and presence were not nearly as magnetic as Jacob would have thought, given the attention the people in the building were giving him.

Yet, they watched as though hypnotized, hanging on every word that he said.

"The time is near," cried the man. "The lord has led us to this place and the lord has given us the gift to rid the world of the scourge that plagues this planet. Though they have the arrogance to call themselves 'The Afflicted', we all know them to be nothing more than bloodsucking vampires."

A chorus of boos and hisses erupted from the crowd.

"Bloodsuckers!" called one man.

"Soul stealers!" yelled a woman.

"Yes, they sit there -- hiding below. Arrogant in their basements, fornicating endlessly, drawing out their lives to an unnatural span by stealing the blood of your sisters, your brothers, your children; your husbands and wives!"

More boos followed.

"Their time is at an end," said the man. "I am nearly done with the invention that will render them helpless, and we will finish them once and for all!"

A huge cry went through the crowd.

"Arnet! Arnet! Arnet!" they cried.

"Very good, my friends, very good," said the man. "I love your enthusiasm. Now, in order to fortify us for the battles ahead, who wants their dose of god's strength?"

Another cry went through the room, even louder this time.

"God's strength! God's strength!"

"Wonderful," said the man Jacob now knew as Arnet. "Please line up, civilly this time, we don't want any more riots like before. Everyone will get their dose."

Jacob watched as several stations materialized at the edges of the room. Lines were formed and medic-like people stood at each table, syringes in hand. Each person stepped up to get a shot, and when they walked away they had a blissful -- almost arrogant look on their face.

Jacob knew he had to get a vial of the substance. Whatever it was, the Afflicted scientists would find out the properties of this 'god's strength'.

He worked his way closer, and then the last thing he would have ever expected to happen -- did.

* * * *

She had always lived here, in New York. Her first memory was of being a little girl, on a rowboat -- and being very hungry. She had been lost at sea, or something. She could not remember her parents or anything else.

When her rowboat landed in New York, she had scrambled out of it and up the shore to drift into the violent neighborhood of five points.

No one had touched her.

She had walked up to a bakery, attracted by the smell of the fresh bread -- and the shop owner had given her a roll to eat.

That is how things continued. When she was hungry, she simply asked for food and it was given. Sometimes it was given before she even asked. When her clothes grew too small, a sympathetic mother would take her in, bathe her, and give her new ones.

When she was tired, she slept. It didn't matter if it was in a stable, or in a spare bed someone offered, or simply in a flowerbed in the park. Even if a policeman saw her dozing beneath a sheltering tree, he would simply smile and move on.

She knew how to speak, and even read. She would often drift into schools and sit through classes. The teachers who saw her would simply smile at the fair skinned, dark haired, blue-eyed girl who seemed as though she had always been there.

She did not know her real name, but when people asked, she would tell them Glennis -- a name a shopkeeper had called her which meant beautiful and holy.

As she had matured, she had grown more and more beautiful. Her shape had filled out and her face had gained such beauty that people would gasp when they saw her.

Yet, no matter what neighborhood she wandered through -- the bowery, up and down Orange Street, the various districts -- she remained untouched. The roughest, most rapacious thug would be ready to make a lewd suggestion -- but all it took was one look into her eyes and every impure thought would evaporate from his head. Most often, such men would follow her for some time, wishing to protect her from being harmed by men such as themselves -- she seemed safe from all evil.

The corrupt, filthy, and often poverty-stricken world of New York City had always been simply a place of wonder and adventure to her. Many people called her 'the angel', for she would take any extra food that was given to her and share it among the homeless orphans in the slums of the great city.

She couldn't have told you what led her to the meatpacking district that early morning. She had spent the previous day wandering through the higher blocks and been given a new white dress at a dressmaker's shop, as well as a lovely but sturdy pair of lace up boots to go with it. From there, she had meandered south -- feeling that something was calling her there.

Her life was most often like this, a tiny voice would call her somewhere. Following these instinctive urges, she would always find some sort of adventure or a new beauty to behold.

When she heard the shouting coming from the building she had to go in and see. The guards outside paid her no mind (which surprised the Afflicted spies who were waiting for Jacob to emerge), and Glennis simply drifted into the crowd.

She did not like the man who was speaking, Arnet, they called him. She found him greedy and mean of spirit. She also didn't like the people in the place. They were obsessed by two things, this Arnet and the God's Strength he spoke of. How sad, she thought, to only live for two things in the world.

She did, however, like the young man who was hiding. He was happiness. That was the only way she could describe it. He seemed to be a living smile. She found it curious that he hid himself so. She also couldn't see him, not his face or other things -- but she could see his 'him-ness'. She was curious about it, and walked over to ask him about his curious way of hiding. She had played hide and seek many times, but this was a very clever way to do it, indeed.

* * * *

"Why are you doing that?"

Jacob was trying to work his way closer to one of the medical tables, but the moving crowd made it difficult. He wondered who might be speaking nearby him, but ignored it, knowing he was safe.

"I asked why you are doing that?" said the young woman's voice again. "Why are you hiding like a window. You are there but not there. How do you do it, anyway?"

Jacob's heart skipped a beat. This young woman could only be addressing one person.

He turned to look at her and the heart which had skipped a beat now stopped. He had never seen a more heavenly creature in his life. While Abby was earthy and stunning, and Aimée was exotic and graceful, this girl was heavenly, like an angel. His first thought was that she was so beautiful that she shouldn't even be touched.

She was looking at him. She didn't see him... that is, her eyes didn't seem able to focus on his face. She did see where he was, though. She was looking directly at the spot where he stood and she was speaking directly to him.

The interchange did not go unnoticed. Though Arnet couldn't seem to focus on the girl, he was alarmed at who she might be talking to. He had heard tales of the more rare Afflicted abilities. Though he hadn't heard specifically of invisibility, he had no doubt that it might exist. With a quick gesture to two of his best guards, he whispered for them to grab a net.

"I don't want to be seen," whispered Jacob.

"Well of course, why else would you be hiding?" whispered Glennis, matching his tone. "But why are you hiding from them?"

"Because they aren't very nice," said Jacob.

She was exasperating. This girl was a child. 'Why was he hiding?'. How helpful was it that she would just march up and talk to him.

"Look, I need you to go away," he whispered.

He tried walking away from her, but she simply followed.

"But I like you," she said. "You are very fun, I can just tell it. I would like to spend more time with you."

"Maybe later," said Jacob.

Arnet had motioned his guards to follow the girl. He walked up behind one and whispered softly.

"Not the girl. Don't go for the girl. Throw the net over the place she is talking to.

"But I want to spend time with you now!" said the girl, giving a stamp of her foot.

The stamp was almost a signal, and two nets suddenly floated through the air and wrapped around an invisible body. Arnet crossed to the nets.

"Well, spy -- you might as well make yourself seen. It will make it easier on you so we can shackle you without scrambling around too much."

Jacob did as he suggested, and Arnet smiled at the youth.

"How lovely to capture one of your kind alive," he said. "It isn't often we have the luxury."

"You aren't a nice man," said Glennis to Arnet. "You aren't a nice man at all. Someone should tell you that."

Arnet did not know why he didn't order the guards to capture her as well, but it didn't seem like the thing he should do. He simply followed the guards as they took Jacob below, letting the girl make her way back out of the warehouse.

Across the street, the girl spotted a face hiding beneath a hat and crossed directly to the man. It was Peter, one of Scaurus' most trusted guards and spies. He was perhaps more surprised than Jacob had been upon being discovered.

"They took your friend," said Glennis. "They took your friend and I like him. Take me with you, so I can meet him again after you bring him back."

"Took who?" asked Peter.

"The boy, I don't know his name, but the boy who can hide in plain sight like a window. A very mean man named Arnet took him. Come on then, take me to the place where you live. I wish to wait until I can meet the boy again."

* * * *

"Let me see if I can explain this properly," said Galen. "Since we have some time while waiting for your brother, I'll try to pound the seriousness of this situation into your heads."

The three young people were sitting in chairs beside each other. Aimée still wore the bracelet which kept her from jumping, and Abby had been released from the booth but wore a deviously clever necklace meant to dampen her gift.

"Abby here," started Galen, "is the single most gifted person we have seen since a certain man called Clockmaker. The Clockmaker had the most beautiful mind I have ever known, but he also had dangerous powers; powers which were corrupted and put to use against our kind and the Council. Are you with me so far?"

The three youths nodded.

"Good," said Galen. "The Clockmaker's Affliction runs in the veins of Claude and Aimée. Not so much his blood, but his Affliction. Whenever we take a bloodmate, that strain blends with that of our partner. So, Claude and Aimée have the remarkable strains of the Bonajutes, the Georgiou's, the Clockmaker, AND the surprisingly strong blood of Palo here -- who has taken to the Affliction like a duck to water and passed on his strength to you two. Clear?"
He did not wait to see if the three were still with him.

"Now, you tell me that simply through touching each other, the most powerful Empath our kind has ever seen, one who is still developing, I might add, and a Deplaceur with direct ties to the Clockmaker... You are telling me the two of you can jump into anywhere so long as you have some knowledge of the person you are trying to find. The Clockmaker! Our beloved Christophe was turned by a careless Deplaceur.

"But it's not so dangerous," said Abby. "I can only get a fix if I know the person."

"Or if someone else knows the person," said Scaurus, chiming in. "Forgive me, girl, but it is my job to think like the enemy. I've seen you at work. You can pick the thoughts out of an average person the way I can pick cherries off a tree. All you would need is to get near anyone who knew someone you were targeting and you and Aimée could be in, slash their throat, and out in a heartbeat."

"But we wouldn't!" protested Aimée and Abby at the same time.

"Tell it to the Clockmaker!" cried Galen. "Christophe was the most gentle soul you have ever met, isn't that right Frederique."

"Oui," she said quietly.

"We don't know who is out there," said Scaurus. "We don't know who is behind the Black Guard or how they might be able to manipulate people."

"My job was to take care of you," said Galen. "Please tell me how I am going to convince the council that the most talented, and thereby the most danger dangerous of our kind in several generations are practically blood-bonded already. Gifts become stronger after mating. Traits get shared after mating. By every god I have ever seen worshiped, I am clueless at what to do. Were I to go before the council today, I assure you the best I answer I would get would be exile for the four of you. The worst, is the strong possibility of a death sentence."

The room grew even more quiet at the import of his words.

"Speaking of the four of you, where the hell is the disappearing lad? He should have been here by now."

A knock came at the door.

Scaurus opened it, and Peter came dashing in.

"Peter," Scaurus said, "where is Jacob? I gave orders that he be brought here."

"He's been taken," said the spy. "But that's not all -- oh thank God you're here, Galen."

"Why?" asked the doctor.

"There's a girl you need to meet."






CHAPTER 11



Galen had been rushed off to meet a perplexing young woman; they had no other information.

Meanwhile, in the council room, Brana, Palo, and Frederique sat across from Abby, Aimée, and Claude. Claude was shackled to the table, each of the girls wore a golden collar.

"Please let us go and get him," pleaded Aimée. "Take off these damned restraints and let us just go to him. We promise we'll come back!"

"We have no authority to do so," said Frederique. "Before we do anything, you need to explain what the hell you were thinking."

"We weren't," said Abby.

The gorgeous blind empath was struggling in more ways than one. She had always been one of the most responsible of the young afflicted due to her gift. One couldn't be an empath and not feel a sense of responsibility for everyone around. To act in such an irresponsible fashion was truly out of character for her. Beyond her guilt, she was experiencing a myriad of other emotions: Fear for her beloved brother; Angst that Galen seemed determined not to allow her to mate with Claude; and beyond that she was horribly disoriented. They still had the dampening collar around her neck and she was more blind than she had been in years. Her blindness went beyond simply being able to see through the eyes of others. Abby extended all of her senses through those around her, even emotions. A world that had been richer than most would ever experience had been suddenly shrunk down to practically nothing. Added on to this, the dampener was giving her a horrible headache and her stomach was turning worse every minute.

It was even more frustrating because she desperately wished she could truly see Frederique and Palo. Both she and Jacob had known for quite some time who Claude and Aimée's famous mother was, and had heard many stories of their father. Abby had badly wished to see them in person through others' eyes, and to feel them through her remarkable abilities. Now, in her first meeting, she had disappointed them deeply and she was hampered by the horrible dampening devices the Council guards had placed her in.

"I am so ashamed, Frederique," wept Abby, "And now I've called you Frederique. Should it be Mrs. Dujobe? Your highness? I don't even know what to call you!"

She wept uncontrollably and Frederique's heart couldn't help but go out to the young girl.

From weeping, Abby began to choke and she soon had to turn her head and vomit into a bucket which had been placed near them.

"Why is she so sick?" asked Aimée. "I'm beginning to feel the same. Why?

"It's the dampeners," explained Brana. "They confuse the Affliction in a way, so you can't use your gifts. But they also greatly upset the body."

Claude pulled angrily at his restraints.

"We have to get him," he insisted. "And Abby and Aimée are the only ones who can. With their ability, they can go straight to him. They can find him.

"What does it matter!" said Aimée in a defeated tone. "Even if we retrieve him, we'll be returning here to a life without each other. You heard what Galen said."

"You heard incorrectly," said Palo.

It was the first he had spoken since the arrest. In his eyes shone the intelligence of one raised among the scholars of Africa. His father and grandfather had been princes, but among his ancestors he could also count poets and scientists of great renown. As strong-willed and intractable as Palo could be -- his intelligence was deceptively one of his greatest traits -- the very thing which had attracted Frederique to him in the beginning.

"I have studied the laws of the council," he began softly. "They are surprisingly wise and just. You did not hear through to the truth of what Galen was saying. The council values many things, not the least of which is Galen's counsel. He came here to America to test and evaluate the four of you. What you must understand is there is every chance he may well have found that Aimée and Jacob are a perfect match, or for that matter that Claude and Aimée are well-suited for each other."

"Palo, is this my same husband talking?" asked Frederique in surprise.

"It is, my dear," said Palo. "I have thought for a long time about our kind. The implications of endless life are something I am just beginning to understand. How morality is shaded by the possibility of centuries is a complicated thing to consider. The damned hunger of this Affliction is also unique. It would certainly take me some time to get used to the idea of Claude and Aimée being bloodmates, but when I ponder the idea of seeing them still together in one-hundred or two-hundred years, it sheds a different light."

Palo continued.

"No, what these youngsters must understand is the council also places immense value on loyalty and obedience. They are generally lenient when it comes to governing our behavior, but when someone in authority gives orders they expect them to be obeyed. That is what has Galen so upset. Regardless of what he might find, the council could well overrule him because of your little escapades."

"We are so stupid," said Aimée to herself. "So very, very stupid."

"No my daughter," said Palo. "Just young."

"The sun!" cried Abby suddenly. "Just now, a hint of a thought came through. They are threatening Jacob with the sun!"

Frederique crossed to the iron door and knocked twice. The guard peeked in.

"Fetch me Scaurus," she said softly. "Tell him to bring a team and kits of day gear as well."

"Yes Frederique," said the guard in a reverent tone.

* * * *

Galen looked through the one way mirror at the lovely blond girl in the holding room. Two night foxes were scampering up and down her arms and nuzzling her affectionately. She was giggling joyfully at each of their playful licks.

"She must be Afflicted," said Galen to Meurnat, the spy who had brought her in.

"No, she's not," said Meurnat. "She walks easily in the sun and she failed the blood test that determines if someone is Afflicted -- the very same blood test you invented, Galen.

Galen pondered the girl with amazement and said nothing for some time.

"Well," said Meurnat, "what is your explanation."

"What this means is she is not a threat," said Galen. "On the home Island, the Night Foxes nipped the first-bitten when they arrived in the caves, not to harm them, but to infect them. To them, any creature who does not carry the Affliction is an enemy. Once the symbiote is in the bloodstream, a Night Fox will regard you as a friend. However, they do sometimes make exceptions. Dolphins, for example. Though they are mammals, Night Foxes haven't the slightest animosity toward them. I once visited a grotto in Capri with some Night Foxes and they played to dawn's first rays with a school of dolphins."

"I don't understand the comparison," said Muernat. "Are you saying she's a mermaid?"

"I don't know what she is," said Galen with a smile. "But whatever she is, this girl is simply not a threat. The Night Foxes see her only as a friend and see no need to infect her. So, it is time to discover more about this lovely enigma."

He crossed to the door and gently pushed it open. The two Night Foxes bristled at first, but upon recognizing him they scampered to his side. These two foxes were two old friends, each of them hundreds of years old.

"Hello, my lovelies," whispered Galen. "It is so good to see you, again. Would you mind if I paid a private visit to our new acquaintance here?"

The white, fluffy, creatures looked to him with intelligent eyes. They then glanced back at Glennis with a hint of regret, but scurried out to their keeper.

"Hello, Glennis," said the doctor. "My name is Galen."

"It is wonderful to meet you, Galen," said the girl. "Just so you know, I don't know if that is my true name. It is what I am called by many, however, so I make do with that."

Galen nodded and sat beside the girl. The two of them remained in silence for some time. With the practiced manner of a doctor who had cared for thousands upon thousands of patients, Galen somehow knew instinctively how to best deal with this unusual young woman.

He felt a strange sense of peace wash over him as her gaze lingered on his features. He had found a new sense of purpose when he learned of the return of Frederique and her children. Colette had brought a new vitality to his life. However, the peace he felt with this girl at his side...he had not felt so at rest since the two decades he had spent in Medieval Japan living with monks. He felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, but it was a soothing, peaceful sensation.

"But you are so old," said Glennis. "Your face does not speak the truth of your eyes. Your eyes have seen so very many days. How must it feel? Tell me."

Galen turned to the girl with a few tears brimming in his eyes.

"It is very tiring, my dear," he said. "Especially lately. Recently, I have been quite weary."

The young woman put a tender hand on his arm. "But you shouldn't be. You should be happy to have seen so much."

"With you here, I understand that better," said the old doctor. "But as for you? Where do you come from?"

"I remember a boat," said the young woman. "It was long and there were oarsmen. The people were much like me, light hair and blue eyes...and then there was a storm. I can't remember much after that, except landing alone here in New York. I was young, just a small girl. I've gotten by somehow."

"Yes, so you have."

"But I've never seen the likes of you," said Glennis. "In all this time. I've never seen people like yours. You have terrible hungers - frightening, really. This hunger for each other -- I have seen this sort of hunger in the eyes of the men who have been at sea, and of their wives waiting for them on the docks. This fierce yearning of the body. I have seen that sort of hunger now and again. But with your kind, that frightening ache for each other is there every day."

"Yes, it is," agreed Galen. "We have a great need to touch each other, in every way. Tell me Glennis, have you felt such hunger? For others?"

"Not much," said the girl, frankly. "I sometimes wish to hold someone, but when it comes to mating with someone -- that urge has never been very strong, at least not until recently. The past few months, I've begun to feel that it might be time to try it -- this mating that others do. I grow more curious each day."

* * * *

The whip lashed out and cut a vicious gash into Jacob's back. He cried out briefly, then willed himself to ignore the pain and began laughing.

"Excellent," he said. "Your man is improving. That one was definitely deeper than the last. That one will take at least ten minutes to heal."

Arnet sat beside the table where Jacob was strapped and watched with an inscrutable expression. Jacob couldn't tell if his defiance was annoying the rat-like man, or titillating him in some way. All that Arnet did was watch, with no emotion passing his face as the torturer kept whipping for the next ten minutes.

Jacob was secured to the table by three metal bands -- one across his shoulders, one across his waist, and one at his calves. He was socked in tightly with the help of numerous locks.

Jacob kept laughing when he could, and focused on the changing patterns on the walls when he couldn't. Arnet clearly knew the ways of the Afflicted, taking every precaution to assure a deplaceur couldn't find their way into the building.

At last, Arnet called a halt and excused the torturers. However, he stopped a lovely woman assistant before she left and ordered her to stay still. Unquestioningly, she gazed at him adoringly while he cut a small incision on her shoulder. Placing a goblet below, he let a stream of her blood flow out until the glass was nearly full. Setting aside the goblet, he retrieved a bandage and cotton-ball to carefully patch her up. Next, he bent down to kiss her deeply. As he did, his hand reached down beneath her skirt to find its way into her knickers. She moaned as he continued kissing her, and seemed very near orgasm before he removed his hand and forced her to suck his fingers.

"Your full reward will come later," he said, patting her cheek.

"Thank you, master," she purred before she turned on her heel to leave.

Arnet turned his attention to Jacob, grabbing a short section of surgical tubing and placing it into the goblet. He sat beside Jacob, whose face was near the edge.

"Drink," he said, simply. "I wish for you to regain your strength."

"Why, exactly?" asked Jacob.

"I have my reasons. Please, do drink. God knows you must hunger for blood by now."

Jacob was indeed starving, and had felt himself growing more and more aware of the curious scent of the blood of Arnet's assistants. It smelled very mortal, but there was still an odd tinge about it. He had no choice but to drink it hungrily and gave a sigh as his system recovered and the whip marks began healing more quickly.

"We should talk?" said Arnet. "It is so infrequent that I get to have an intelligent conversation. You see, my followers, they are wonderfully devoted -- but God's Strength makes them a bit boring conversationalists, especially around me.

"What exactly is God's Strength anyway?" asked Jacob.

"I love telling this part," said Arnet -- showing the first smile Jacob had yet to see. "I especially love telling it because no one lives to pass it on.

Arnet settled back in his chair and laid out his tale:

"Now then, my young Afflicted named Jacob. I have a lovely tale to tell you.

"Nearly a century ago, there was a great man. A powerful man, by the name of Tacito Fernandez."

"The Weasel," whispered Jacob under his breath.

For the first time, Jacob saw a flare of emotion within Arnet. The small man had to stop himself from striking Jacob -- but he did stop, and checked himself.

"I would advise you not to use that term again, young Jacob. Your death is coming, but it will be all the more painful and come that much more quickly if you blaspheme in such a way. Now, I will continue."

"Tacito was building an empire. He was mere steps away from conquering the arrogant and pathetic Council who never truly understood how great his power was. If it weren't for the witch Frederique, this world would be a very different place."

"Tacito's followers were tracked and hunted. They were quite nearly eradicated. I say nearly, because there was one woman, a remarkably resourceful and wise woman who was able to escape their clutches. She made her way to St. Petersburg and hungered greatly. She knew she must have a bloodmate, but the thought of taking any other than Tacito sickened her. Eventually, she absconded with a pathetic drooling bedlam idiot who was incapable of speech. She infected this poor soul and kept him chained there -- laying with him when she needed to feed her Affliction. She did so, in order to carry on Tacito's line. Because, you see, she was with child... and that child was..."

"You," said Jacob coldly.

"Ah, my dramatic foreshadowing was well done. Indeed it was me. My mother educated me in all things about the Afflicted and kept me hidden away. The greatest thing she taught me was patience. If there had been any flaw in my father's plan it was just that. He could have waited but he grew greedy and met his downfall."

"My mother taught me all she knew and waited until the day I awakened. Patience, you must remember that. When I did awaken, a less intelligent woman would have had me seek out another of our kind -- but no, she knew that might reveal us. Instead, she took me to her bed and to her mate. What a wonderful surprise it was, too, when I put my teeth to her neck. You see, my gift was the same as my father's. She awoke from our mating was bound to me... enslaved to me."

"Patience, remember that word, Jacob," said Arnet. "My mother fed my lust and we satisfied our thirst for blood whenever we needed. I joyfully discovered that my gift also included flying, which I got from her. It became rapidly clear that I would be able to fulfill my father's destiny."

"Sadly, my mother's devotion proved to be her own downfall. When she saw what my gift was, she wished to start down the path of conquest as quickly as possible. I awoke one evening to find she had brought me an Afflicted woman and wished me to blood her so we could follow the same path. I knew that would lead to us being discovered very quickly. Galen had survived. Others had survived. With intellects built over centuries, there would certainly be alarms and tests which would detect any Afflicted person who was bound to one of Tacito's bloodline. I was forced to kill the woman...and my mother as well. She had become a liability."

Arnet gave a cold smile at Jacob's reaction to his ruthlessness.

"Patience, remember young man. I could take no risks. So, I bided my time. Following in my mother's footsteps, I 'adopted' several witless young women and blooded them so I might feed my hungers. Certainly, they weren't terribly imaginative lovers in bed -- but what does the Affliction care when it comes to feeding incessant lust."

"As I whiled away the years, I studied. I moved from St. Petersburg to Krakow, from Krakow to Vienna and so on. I haunted the libraries. Not only did I study science, I was also determined to learn all I could of the Afflicted. I found a surprising number of tomes in the libraries of the great monasteries. It was there that I also discovered some wonderful and delicious secrets about the early days of the Afflicted and how they and the church were intertwined more than the Pope or any of his predecessors would ever care to admit."
"My greatest find, however, was an illuminated manuscript from the time of the Inquisition which revealed a wonderful tale -- and here, dear Jacob, is where the tale gets truly interesting. You see, within that volume was a crude painting of a blazing sun and one who was Afflicted being exposed to its rays. Sketch after sketch showed a charred corpse at the end. But one, the final one, had two words written below it. Tardius Curantur. How is your Latin, young man?"

"Not so good," said Jacob. "I know English, French, and German... but I've yet to get to Latin."

"Pitiful," chastised Arnet. "If you had your Latin, so many of the European languages would fall right in. Just guess Tardius Curantur, what do you think?"

"Umm, tardy means late, so something about late?"

"Close. No, in this case, it means not late, but slow, or slowly. The phrase itself means, 'slowly cured'. I went on to read the most remarkable tale of how they had captured a small group of Afflicted and -- after much trial and error -- had been able to 'cure' an Afflicted man with gradual exposure to sunlight. This 'cured' man lost his gift, but he also lost his thirst for blood and the overwhelming need for copulation. What he gained, however, was the ability to walk about in the sunlight. He was 'normal' once again. He even began to age once more, and he healed more slowly."

"The footnote to that tale was what happened the following winter. The place where the experiments took place was Finland. Of course, the 'cured' Afflicted man was kept in custody. However, in the depths of winter, the sun rarely shines. With the lack of the sun, the Afflicted man's Afflicted cells came back to life. They had simply become dormant, but with the darkness, they returned. On Christmas day, no less, he struck on his captors with a vengeance and left only one to tell the tale."

"So, I had my goal. It was time for me to become cured."

"But why?" asked Jacob. "Why would you wish to be cured?"

"What I needed more than anything was knowledge. I could not learn from Afflicted scholars and one can only learn so much by attending night lectures at Universities. So, I began a slow exposure to the sun. Ten seconds the first, day, fifteen the next. Such agony, you can't imagine. After months of this, I finally achieved my goal and for the first time in my life I took a walk beneath the shining sun. Could I fly beneath that sunlit sky? No, but I could pass among mortals and learn from them."

"That is when my true studies began. I undertook mastering biology, anatomy, every science imaginable. I even studied briefly under the great Pasteur, who I understand will soon be in your ranks. My favorite discovery of all was the centrifuge. You have no idea how much can be learned from that amazingly simple device. The greatest thing I learned was this: The Affliction has two types of cells. One, is the actual Affliction, the other carries the gift itself."

"I don't exactly understand," said Jacob.

"Simply put, there are two types of cells. Afflicted Cells, and gift cells. What that means is I could take your blood, spin it, and extract the cells that give you that remarkable ability to turn yourself invisible, inject those cells into a normal human, and they would have the same talent. Of course, they might not know how to do it -- but the potential would still be there for a few days. You see, I can certainly bite a mortal and bind them to me... but by biting them I also turn them into someone who is Afflicted at the same time. If I just use the gift cells, they are simply bound to me."

"In my case, it is quite simple. One injection and the gift I inherited from my father causes a mortal to identify with me and follow me blindly. The only disadvantage is that the effect does not last forever without the Afflicted host cells to reinforce it. The dosage must be renewed within the week. I have discovered how to synthesize this, or more accurately, to grow these cells in a laboratory so that I can continue increasing my army without draining myself dry to do so. Of course, the Holy See is simply happy that I am making progress toward conquering the Afflicted, they don't wish to know about my methods of inspiring such loyalty in the black guard."

"The Holy See?" said Jacob, curious. "What would the Vatican have to do with your plans?"

"You must understand, Jacob. The one thing I did not have was resources. If I had any hopes of completing my father's mission, I knew I could never accomplish it on my own. What better resource to turn to than the Afflicted's greatest enemy. No one wishes to wipe out your kind more than the Catholic Church. "

"That seems a bit counter-productive," argued Jacob. "Where's the logic in allowing them to destroy us? I thought you wanted conquest, not destruction."

"Let me lay it out for you more plainly, Jacob," said Arnet. "A bit over a decade ago, I walked into the Vatican with an absurd amount of knowledge about the Afflicted. Of course, they didn't trust me, so I submitted to their test of sunlight, which I pass with flying colors. Once I had them in my confidence, I began to build my forces and my people follow me blindly and unquestioningly. I began to capture members of the Afflicted. The church gave me more resources, more money, more people. I now have a force numbering in the thousands ready to move in. There is only one thing the Vatican doesn't know. They don't know that I will soon retreat once again from sunlight. My gifts will return. My blood will reach full strength again and with my superior knowledge, I will be able to produce great quantities of both my Gift Cells, and my Afflicted Cells."

To illustrate, Arnet held up a dart which was essentially a syringe with feathers attached.

"In here, are my cultured gift cells," said Arnet. "I could shoot you with it right now and you would be bound to me, but only for a few days. What is lacking are my Afflicted Cells which would actually make you part of my brood. To date, I have not bound another member of your kind to me because they might be captured and trigger the alarm of the Council.

Yet, once I retreat from the sun, I will create both types of cells. When the Black Guard goes on the attack against the Afflicted, they won't, in fact, be merely giving them God's Gift - as they call it. They will be making each and every member of the Afflicted my bloodmate -- my slave. Each dart will have a mixture of both cells."

"I can safely tell you that by the end of the year, the entire domain of Afflicted will belong to me. From there, I will have the resources to build enough serum to captivate the rest of the world with the serum. I shall own the night and the day. Every person in the world will do my bidding."

"I don't foresee that happening," said Jacob. "They defeated your father, they'll defeat you. Frederique and her children will make sure of that."

Jacob suddenly turned pale from shock.

"What was that you said?"

"Nothing," said Jacob through gritted teeth.

"I had heard the rumors. The official story was that Frederique had perished, but there were countless whispers that she was merely in hiding. Now you tell me she has children as well? Oh, how wonderful it will be to see her, bound by her hands and feet as I make her children my slaves."

"You won't touch them," growled Jacob.

"Them?" said Arnet with a wicked smile. "Can I infer that you have lain with Frederique's daughter? Could it be you have feelings for such a girl? I can see by your reaction that you have. Ooh, I can imagine the whisperings in The Council: 'Frederique's daughter and a boy who can turn invisible? Imagine those two gifts combined.' Would they even let such a union occur? Now this is simply wonderful."

Arnet was practically clapping his hands with glee.

"Oh my dear boy," said the tiny man. "Little did I know you would bring such joyous news. I had thought to kill you this day -- but I may save you a bit longer. What other information can I get from you?"

"Nothing," spat Jacob.

"Oh, you say that now. What will you say when you've felt the sun's rays for the first time on your skin?"

Jacob's eyes couldn't help but flare in fear at Arnet's suggestion. Twice already, Arnet had opened a hole in the ceiling and threatened him. Mortals had their bogeymen and monsters to scare children, the Afflicted had the sun -- and with good reason. From an early age, the fear of the sun was ingrained deeply into their consciousness. As Arnet had stated, it took him months to become ready for the sun. Full exposure to the sun for more than a few seconds was fatal to one of Jacob's kind.

Arnet grinned and looked to the ceiling.

"There's a reason this room is on the top floor of the building," said the son of the Weasel. "I could build prisms and mirrors -- but the effect is diluted as the light travels. No, I prefer my victims to be as close to the source as they can. Jacob, please do tell me the names of Frederique's children."

"No!" cried Jacob.

He rued the day he had learned the truth of the matter. Abby had already known, and Aimée had let it slip one day. He had of course been bound to silence and he cursed himself for his slip, thereby endangering his dearest friend and his closest lover.

"But you will!" cried Arnet.

There was no dramatic build-up, no teasing this time. Arnet simply pulled a lever and a square of light was suddenly flashing across Jacob's barely-healed back. Jacob would have taken a cat-of-nine-tails... a cat-of-billion-tales over the agony he felt at that moment.

Arnet watched in satisfied fascination as Jacob's skin began to boil beneath the surface. His Affliction was both dying and retreating. Ripple after ripple surged as his skin grew darker from the blood rushing to the skin as it might with a blister. Arnet was a practiced hand with the sun, and knew from the tone of Jacob's cries just when to shut the skylight.

He waited until Jacob's sobs had subsided a bit, then moved his mouth close to Jacob's ear.

"Their names, Jacob," he said in a sinister whisper. "Tell me their names."

Jacob lifted his head as if to speak, then spat squarely into Arnet's eye.

"You are resilient, if nothing else. Let's try this again."

Arnet was just reaching for the handle when a sudden 'pop' could be heard in the room.

"How remarkable," said Arnet.

With surprising rapidity, the little man moved his hand over to another lever, and with a quick pull, a trap door opened into the floor, swallowing him up before closing just as quickly.

Jacob could just make out four figures from his peripheral vision. Two popped out of sight just as rapidly.

"I've got the Obscuring mechanism!" said a man's voice with an English accent.

"I'll start on the restraints," said a woman's voice.

"Who's there?" called Jacob.

"It's Bullet," said a woman's voice beside him. How are you tied in here?"

"They weren't messing around," said Jacob. "There are locks underneath."

"Damn," muttered bullet. "Brolly, how're you with locks?"

"Not as good as Seetha," he said. "Obscurers are off, but I don't know for how long. I'll go get her. If I can't get back, send Abby and Aimée to room 5."

"Got it," said Bullet.

There were two simultaneous pops. Brolly's was more of a click, but the sound of others arriving brought Jacob more comfort.

"Situation?" roared the gruff voice of Scaurus.

Another pop of departure.

"All quiet," said Bullet, "But the boy is locked in securely and the table is immovable. It also looks to be rigged with dynamite at the joint, so we wouldn't be wise to pry it. Brolly's gone to fetch Seetha, the lockpicker. She'll be our best hope."

"Damn," said Scaurus, "I was hoping this would be a quick in and out. I don't trust how quiet this is. Spartan formation, everyone, around the table."

Pop, another arrival, more voices.

Pop, this time it was Brolly with the lock picker he had spoken of.

Jacob felt the comforting hand of a woman on his back and heard a soothing voice in his ear.

"Don't worry, Jacob," said a voice in a lilting foreign accent. "My name is Seetha and I'll only need a minute or two to get you out."

Pop, one final arrival. Turning his head one way and the other, Jacob could only see backs facing him, each of them holding up shields that formed a sort of wall around him.

"Dynamite detached," said the voice belonging to Seetha. "I need a deplaceur to get it out of here."

"I'm on it," said Brolly's voice.

He popped out, and surprisingly, did not return immediately.

"Obscuring is back on," murmured Bullet, looking at the walls.

"Damn it," muttered Scaurus. "Seetha, how long?"

"Two more minutes, at least. Damned good locks, these."

"Brace yourselves everyone," said Scaurus. "Day gear stays in place. Cover the lad!"

A dark piece of oil-cloth was thrown entirely over him, and just in time. The entire skylight was thrown. They squinted through their smoked goggles as their eyes became used to the light.

Jacob felt a tender hand on his leg. He didn't need to see her to know who it was.

"You're hurt," said Abby's voice in his head.

"Not badly," he thought back.

"Yes, badly," she admonished him. "I've never seen sun-scar before. Your body is almost in shock."

"I'm fine, Abby."

He could feel her reaching out, starting to heal him.

"Don't waste your energy now," said Jacob. "Help them. You can fix me up later."

They weren't able to converse any further, however, because the room was suddenly alight. The people gathered round Jacob braced themselves.

There was obviously a speaking tube somewhere in the room, and Arnet's voice taunted them from above.

"Do you like my locks, my long lost brethren?" he said gleefully. "They are of my own design, modified from the work of Christophe the clockmaker himself."

Jacob heard a woman's voice curse quietly to his side. He instantly knew it was Frederique.

"Gently, dear," said a man's voice, who he could only assume was Claude's father.

"You might have rid yourself of the explosives, but you will soon pay dearly. Any wagers on how many will survive?"

"I'll say, all of us make it through," said Scaurus, "Let's wager twenty dollars, I'll meet you at the West Docks tonight for payment."

"What a fascinating accent," said Arnet. "The only other time I've heard one like it is when I happened across a fellow named Rutuba. He was quite the quarry. If he hadn't had such a weakness for wine, he might still be alive."

"You'll die for that," murmured Scaurus.

"One lock down," whispered Seetha. "Two more."

"There's a score of people gathering outside the room," said Abby's voice in all of their heads. "They are... odd. They are focused on this Arnet in a curious way. They worship him."

"I don't care about who they worship," said Scaurus. "What about their weapons? What are they carrying?"

"Guns," said Abby. "Crossbows with darts filled with God's Strength, whatever that is."

"Two down," said Seetha. "This last one shouldn't take too long."

Jacob wanted desperately to reach out to tell Abby about Arnet, but she was too focused externally.

"Ready," said Scaurus. "We'll need to spread around the room and present many targets."

"No," said Abby. "Everyone, please, stay here, I can buy us a bit more time. They're coming!"

Two doors burst open and a rush of Arnet's followers burst into the room with weapons drawn. Surprisingly though, they didn't fire. Instead, they stopped and lowered their weapons -- staring fearfully at the table surrounded by the Afflicted."

"What are you waiting for?" cried Arnet through the speaking tube. "Shoot! Destroy them! "

"We're fearful of hitting you," said a large muscular man in the lead.

"How would you hit me," called Arnet's now shrill voice through the speaking-tube.

"We don't know how they captured you, but they did!" cried one of the women in the group. "Oh Master, they truly are pure evil that they could magic you into the place where that boy was."

There was a silence as Arnet processed this.

"Idiots," he cried. "Weak-minded idiots! I didn't think I'd have to do this by myself."

"What's happening?" asked Scaurus.

"It's Abby," whispered Palo who was standing near the front of the group. "The girl has clouded their minds."

Abby herself was not speaking due to the intense concentration it took to place the full illusion into every mind of the enemy.

"How is it coming, Seetha?" asked Frederique.

"Nearly there," panted the desperate woman.

"Now you will pay!" cried Arnet's voice.

He rushed into the room with a huge gun which had at least fifty narrow barrels.

His followers looked to him confused, having been certain he was being held hostage by the group around the torture table.

Arnet pointed the gun toward the ceiling and pulled a trigger. Dozens of darts flew out of the device. They did not fly true, however, but went whizzing about in haphazard fashion. Many of them found the walls or ceiling for their target, but just as many went whizzing in curling paths toward the group.

"Now!" cried Seetha at the exact same moment.

The metal restraints broke free and the deplaceurs grabbed their charges.

Just as the darts thunked into shields and cloaks, the entire group disappeared accompanied by the angry howl of Arnet.

* * * *

The receiving chamber was one of the most feared places in all of Below. The walls were lined with arrow-slots and the ceiling was lined with nets. If there were the slightest sign of compromise, the nets would be sprung -- or worse. Beyond the walls of the chamber, countless weapons were drawn at the huge pop of fourteen people arriving where before there had been none.

"Hold!" cried Scaurus. "Restrain me first, I've been hit!"

A curious lasso descended from the ceiling and wrapped itself quickly around the Scaurus.

"As have I!" cried Colette, who had been brought along on the mission because of her expertise in close combat as well as her medical skills.

Another tether shot out to restrain her.

"Enough," cried Frederique. "Everyone move away from each other. We will all be restrained until we can be evaluated.

Everyone did as ordered and nets and ropes descended. Once they were all secure, Galen and a full complement of guards entered the chamber.

"Tell us what happened," said Galen.

Several people started speaking at once, but it was Jacob's voice that cut through the crowd.

"Let me speak with him!" he called. "Let me explain and we'll be able to settle things more quickly.

Galen and Jacob were taken to a far corner of the room and in muted tones Jacob explained all he had heard from Arnet.

Galen retrieved one of the darts, which had stuck in a shield.

"Ingenious," he said quietly.

The dart was a small glass vial tipped with a needle like the one Jacob had been show. However, with this one, the fletchings were curved and there was one missing. It was a variation on an old archer's trick. Remove one or two of the feathers and one could shoot an arrow round corners. Arnet's needle gun had taken that concept to the extreme. The goal was for the darts to hit something, and if they flew haphazardly, they would prove impossible to block.

Galen turned to examine the contents of the vial. His mind reached into the contents and evaluated it carefully.

"By god, this is a brilliant man," muttered Galen. "To work on his own and decipher so many mysteries -- it's a shame he wasn't with us."

"Unloose me!" cried Scaurus. "I'm fine, and I have a great deal to attend to."
"You'll do no such thing!" cried Galen. "No one is to be freed until I have the chance to examine them."

Galen crossed to Scaurus and put a hand on the warrior's arm. Looking deeply, he breathed a frustrated sigh.

"This will take a while," he said. "This serum the man has devised is fearfully deceptive. It's as though he knew of the tests I'd devised and worked on ways around them. It's going to take hours per person to truly tell."

"It's not so hard for me," said Abby from where she was tied. "I can feel it. Scaurus is definitely infected..."

"Muzzle the girl," shouted Scaurus. "How do you know she isn't the one infected? She was able to fool an entire room of mortals. Who is to say she's not doing the same here?"

"Gag him," said Galen.

Two guards reluctantly did as they were ordered, finding it very difficult to do such a thing to the most respected commander among all of the Afflicted.

"Inspect me first," said Abby. "Have Madame Villepreux-Power sent for as well, between the two of you, you should be able to discover if I am tainted or not. If you find I am trustworthy, I can move things along much more quickly.

Madame Villepreux-Power soon arrived and between herself and Galen, they were able to determine that there was no foreign impurity in the young empath's blood. Once she was cleared, Abby began reaching out and examining the other people.

For Abby, it was both child's play, and a fascinating game of psychological chess. If someone had been hit, their primary thought was of Arnet. Yet, these were intelligent people and they knew she would be looking for that sort of thought. Those hit by the serum did their best to think of something else yet their thoughts kept returning to the small man. Like the old game of not thinking of a white tiger, those who were compromised kept returning to Arnet in their thoughts. After a few minutes, Abby called out:

"Scaurus, Colette, Palo, Seetha... and Bullet."

Each of the individuals cursed vehemently as they were dragged off to more secure chambers. Abby was able to actually assist in linking Madame Villepreux-Power and Galen together so they could do a thorough examination of everyone else in practically no time, and less than an hour later the remainder of the raiding party was free and gathered in a large room to discuss the fate of their companions.

"I am not terribly worried," explained Galen to those around. "From what Jacob has told me, I'm fairly certain the serum Arnet used was the variety he has developed for mortals. Like them, our friends will see the effects waning within the week. However, we should take no chances. They need to be locked in until we can be sure they are free of the effects."

"Poor Bullet," said Brolly with a grin.

"Why poor Bullet?" asked Frederique.

"She's a jumper," he said. "The others can be left to their own devices in secure quarters. Her, she can't be left to roam free or she'll jump... and she can't be left with them or they'll try to break her restraints."

"Very true," agreed Frederique.

Aimée suddenly blushed and was grateful no one saw her. The implications of 'left to their own devices' became clear. Her father and Scaurus were to be locked in impregnable chambers for at least a week...together. Four Afflicted; two men, two women, and they all had irrepressible desires. She looked to her mother aghast, but Frederique seemed unphased by the repercussions.

"Now," muttered Galen, evaluating Aimée, Abby, Jacob and Claude. "What the hell to do with you four."

He gestured to several guards.

"Separate them," he said. "Secure the deplaceur and be careful with the redhead."

"But we saved Jacob," cried Aimée. "We could have easily left if we wished. I could have taken us anywhere in the world."

"Calm down," muttered Frederique, who was suddenly at her side.

"But..."

"This is all a game," whispered her mother," and there is none better at playing it than Galen. Obey all of his orders and do not complain, and be patient."

Abby had detected the conversation and had listened in. She quickly passed Frederique's counsel along to Jacob, and to Claude who was being detained in a room nearby.

Frederique left Aimée to approach the group who had been hit by Arnet's darts who were now fully shackled. Scaurus and Seetha appeared to be fighting internal demons as the serum took stronger hold. Colette had actually taken two darts and was tearfully begging to be allowed to go to Arnet's side. Bullet, as always, was quiet and sullen.

Palo seemed surprisingly calm. Frederique approached him and kissed him tenderly on the cheek -- wishing she could have felt his arms around her once more before he was isolated.

"How are you feeling, my love?" she asked.

"I'm fine," said Palo. "In fact, I don't think the serum took hold at all."

"Perhaps not," she said, "but we can't take any chances."

"Still," he whispered. "I've been thinking, this Arnet is incredibly intelligent. I think we should reach out to him. He could be a good resource for the Afflicted. A good leader, even."

"Perhaps," said Frederique patiently.

A sudden recognition passed over Palo's face. "That's the serum talking, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid so, dear. Galen and that other doctor, Jeanne she called herself. They will visit you periodically to assess you. Now Palo, we need to talk about your time away."

She leaned up on her tiptoes to kiss him tenderly near his ear, and then talked softly so only he could hear.

"A week is a long time for one of the Afflicted," she said lovingly. "Especially one such as yourself."

"Yes, it is," he moaned.

"Galen's Colette is quite the beauty and so well-rounded, and I don't mean her interests. You've always been drawn to buxom women, yes?. Seetha, is also an exotic beauty and I would guess is quite athletic."

"Yes, she is attractive," admitted Palo. "But a week is not so long. I can wait."

"Dearest," she purred. "You could not last two days on the Siren. Besides, we've had our adventures in the past. Our honeymoon. Tunisia. The Massri's?"

"But we were together," argued Palo.

"And we'll be together again. Palo, you have my permission," she said, her eyes full of love. "You have my permission to do anything. When we are together again in a week, you must tell me everything. Then we'll find a time to invite Colette and Seetha and Scaurus along, and you will show me everything. It's an adventure, my love. Enjoy it."

Frederique left him and went to Colette who was muttering to herself.

"I must reach him. I must find him..."

"Colette," said Frederique with a look of pity in her eyes. "I know you'll have trouble making out what I'm saying but I want to let you know that I have given Palo full permission to take care of you in your isolation. I think you know what that means."

Colette stopped rambling and looked up to Frederique surprised. "I couldn't. I love Arnet."

"Yes you lovely girl, I know," said Frederique patiently. "All the same, Palo will be there and he is very skillful. It will take your mind off of things. Trust me. As for myself, I will take care of Galen. Goodbye, Colette."

The five unfortunate casualties were taken off for what everyone prayed would only be a week of quarantine.

* * * *

A half hour later saw a special session gathered together to discuss Claude, Aimée, Jacob, and Abby. Experts of several varieties, as well as Galen, Brana, and Frederique were present.

Galen, as expected, led the conversation.

"What we are dealing with here," he explained. "Is resonance. Just as a singer's voice can set a goblet or a bell to ringing, the more time each of these four spends with someone, the more their Afflicted cells 'ring'. All four are awakened and ready for the bloodmate ceremony and their emotional states are not helping. Times of stress make the Affliction even more ready for the comfort of a mate. If any of them spend even two or three nights with one partner, their mating instinct will be irrepressible. I still need time to evaluate who these young people should mate with and advise the Council. We can't have them jumping the gun, it almost happened once already.

"So they should be kept entirely apart?" asked Brana.

"They should not even be allowed to see each other," agreed Galen. "They are tuned to each to a degree I have rarely seen. I am frankly surprised they haven't succumbed yet. It is likely because Abby has such a remarkable mind and Aimée has such a strong will that it hasn't happened yet. It is my advice that all four be kept separate until decisions are made"

"I agree," chimed in Frederique. "As council representative, that is my advice as well."

It had been a surprising move, but with Scaurus in quarantine due to Arnet's serum, the Council had made a spot decision to appoint Frederique as temporary head of security in the city. With her centuries of wisdom, her years working as a guard when she was younger, and her legendary skill as a fighter, she had been the logical choice. Especially since her presence was now known by the enemy, it seemed in order to let her presence be known more widely.

Frederique continued. "How are we to control them? Again, the girls are the larger threat. We have countless protections against fliers like Claude. Jacob's invisibility appears compromised until he heals from his sun exposure. It is Aimée's deplacing ability that is a bit of a concern, particularly combined with Abby's talents. "

"If I may," said a quiet man who had been staying shyly in the shadows.

Frederique gasped. It was Franz, a man who had served as an apprentice and later a partner to her late husband, Christophe. He had huge, bottle-like glasses pushed up on his head - not to correct his sight, but because he was always working on some sort of tiny equipment. He still wore his leather gear from his workshop, scarred and scorched from countless experiments.

She rushed to him and showered his face with kisses, which made him blush profusely.

"It is so good to see you, great lady," he stammered.

"I am no great lady," said Frederique softly. "I am a woman who finds myself in yet another time of trouble. I am deeply grateful to find you here because there are few who I could trust as much.

Though he had stammered when addressing Frederique, when it was time to speak of the matters at hand, there was no hesitation in his manner. When it came to mechanisms and protection, Franz was all business.

"I have been briefed on the matter," he said, "and I believe I may have a solution. It seems to me, that in the council's view, the primary threat is in the combination of the empath and the deplaceur and how they can team together to jump anywhere. The two of them together are what we fear the most. Am I correct?"

He did not wait for an answer.

"So, the first goal is to keep them separated, and the second is to keep them from jumping. As you all know, dampeners are a tricky thing. They essentially send out a curious vibration that serves to confuse the Afflicted cells in a host. While it suppresses the gift, it also can lead to nausea, sickness, and other adverse effects. We certainly don't want to keep dampeners on these young people for any length of time."

"Agreed," said Galen.

"Then with the deplaceur, I can create a device which stays dormant unless she jumps. On the first jump, it will turn on, and she will not be able to jump again. So, we keep them separated, and even if she jumps to the empath's side -- they have nowhere to go."

"That sounds satisfactory," said Frederique.

"The empath is more of a problem," he said. "Just how powerful is she?"

The room was silent until Brolly spoke.

"She immobilized nearly two dozen people by creating a different reality in their heads," he said softly. "It was wondrous -- but it was also frightening to consider what she could do if she were compromised."

"Yes," said Franz, sadly. "I am very familiar with such a situation. When one of great power can be used for good or evil it is a blessing and a curse."

He thought on the subject for a while, and everyone watched him quietly.

"What I would propose is this," he finally offered. "Barbarians might simply dampen the empath and not worry about the effects until the Council makes a decision. We are not, however, barbarians. We are civilized. I can put up a shield around an area, say, a suite of rooms. I believe I can calibrate it so the empath would be unable to reach beyond that. She will have visitors, of course, but if we keep the quarters under strict guard, as soon as someone exits the area there would be an invisible curtain that would break her control once a person passed outside. That way, if she did attempt to control their minds for the wrong reasons, her sphere of control would still have little reach. I can also create a dampener that activates should she leave those quarters."

"That sounds like a wonderful solution," said Frederique. "We can only hope the situation doesn't last too long."

"Wonderful," said Galen. "Now, there is the issue of companions. As I have pointed out, they should not have sexual congress with any one person for more than one day. We also, however, can't insist on abstinence. If we deny them any sexual partners, The Affliction will view that as a threat and will go fully into mating frenzy."

"So, regular sex with different partners," said Frederique wrily. "The poor dears, such a brutal sentence. Today is Sunday. We meet again in a week.."

"Yes," agreed Galen, "I will continue to study Arnet's serum, and the cells of our four promising young lovers. One week should be enough for me arrive at a conclusion. In a week, we travel to Iceland to stand before the Council."

Orders were given and quarters prepared. Knowing that there were trying times to come, Abby linked the four companions and they exchanged words of love and encouragement. Their connection was short-lived, however, because guards soon arrived to place a dampener around Abby's neck.

As the sympathetic guard approached her, Abby reached out one more time.

"Goodbye my loves."

Her voice seemed to be coming from within each of their bodies.

"Love well and do not despair. I know we'll be together again soon -- if not as lovers, as the brothers and sisters we are and always will be. Goodb..."

But her last words were gone as the ring went around her neck.






CHAPTER 12



Colette, Galen's companion, was pacing about the room frantically.

"I have to see him," she muttered to herself.

Since the rescue party, all she'd been able to think of was Arnet. She kept reliving the moment when the handsome Arnet rushed into the room and gallantly fired the flurry of darts in their direction.

"If only I'd stayed," she whispered to herself. "All I had to do was pull away from the deplaceur and I'd be with him right now."

Palo was standing in the doorway of their locked suite, fighting his own demons. His dose appeared to not be as strong as that which had gotten to Colette or Scaurus, but he was still annoyingly preoccupied with the man known as Arnet.

"Colette," he said softly.

She ignored him and paced past him again, muttering to herself.

"Colette," he said in a louder tone.

Still, she went on about Arnet. Seeking out solitude, she retreated to corner of the room and just stood there -- staring into the corner and musing on what she would do if she could get to Arnet's side.

She felt a man's hand on her shoulder. She turned with a smile, her mind having convinced her that Arnet had found his way to her. Instead, she was faced with this... this Palo. His ebony skin and his piercing eyes were nothing more than annoyances to her.

"Colette!" he said strongly. "It is a sickness. A temporary infection. You must know that. Use your mind, not your heart."

Tears streamed from her eyes.

"I know," she cried. "But it's been a day. An entire day, and... it is only getting worse. My head tells me I am not making sense, but it's no matter. The pain only grows."

"Dear girl," he said, pushing against her, "has it ever occurred to you that perhaps it isn't just this serum which is increasing your longing. Have you ever thought that it might be something else for which you are yearning?"

He had her pinned in the corner now, she suddenly realized what his intentions were...and it disgusted her.

"How could you!" she cried. "If I was going to be with any man, it would be Arnet, and only Arnet. Arnet is perfect and...mmmhphh."

Her words had been silenced by Palo's mouth. She fought him at first, then slowly surrendered to the lust raging in her body. He kissed her deeply and their hands sought each other out. Her hands caressed his muscular arms and chest. His hands pushed down her loose blouse and freed her left breast. His fingers were soon working magic on her nipple and she was moaning with pleasure.

He pulled back, smiling.

"Do you see?" he said. "There is something else you need."

Smack.

Her hand left a dark print on his cheek.

"How dare you!" she said, then she stopped herself.

"Wait," she cried. "Just then, while we were... I'd forgotten. He wasn't there in my thoughts anymore. But now he's back. My god, this is torture! Here!"

She ripped her blouse open, exposing both breasts.

"Please Palo, hurry," she moaned. "Make me forget. Please, please make me forget."

Palo's mouth was already descending to the fulsome orbs she had offered. His tongue was soon flicking across her nipples and her pussy was bucking against his hand which was seeking her out beneath her skirt. Within a few minutes, the remnants of her clothes and his own shirt were lying in tatters on the floor.

Palo worked his way down her body and she gasped as his expert tongue worked its way into her moistened folds.

"That's it," she moaned. "Oh god, that's it, Palo.

One of his hands was still caressing her breast and as he pinched her nipple she begged him for more.

"Pinch harder," she moaned. "It helps. Ooh, don't stop."

Her hips pushed involuntarily into his tongue as the first hint of a climax arrived.

"Oh so good, so good," she cried out incoherently as the first wave crashed through her. "I've never...so good...I can't, oh thank you Palo. I needed this so much."

He stood, kissing his way back up her body as she greedily sought out the huge bulge crying out to be freed from his trousers.

It was her turn to drop to her knees and she cried out with wonder at the rigid 'monster' she freed.

"And I'd thought Galen was the biggest I'd ever see," she moaned. "You certainly give him a run for his money."

A sudden look of frustration crossed her face.

"Damn!" she cried.

"What is it?"

"He's back," she pouted. "Much as I'd like see how much of that I could fit in my mouth, I need more of a distraction. Can you distract me, Palo."

She stood up and turned her back to him, leaning against the wall and offering herself to him as he stepped out of his trousers.

"Is this a good distraction?" he asked, pressing into her from behind.

"Almost," she moaned.

His bulbous head slipped in the first two inches, spreading her eager labia wide.

"This?" he asked.

"Almost," she murmured.

"This!" he cried.

He slid fully into her --pressing deeply into her inner reaches. It was just what she needed, though.

"Oh my god, that's it," she moaned. "Do it again."

He pulled out and thrust in once more. He did it with such force he lifted he almost lifted her off of the ground. Her huge breasts were flattened up against the smooth, cool wall and she cried out in ecstasy.

"Oh yes, Palo," she cried. "Make me forget. Please, please make me forget him -- just for now."
Palo proceeded to do that. In fact, they were helping each other -- letting their consuming lust override the biological hold of Arnet. For the next full half hour, Colette's body shook as Palo took her from behind. Her warm cavern opened further and further and he was soon plunging his full, substantial length into her with great strokes. She found she did not need the pain. The pleasure of his rushing cock erased anything but what they were doing.

For as long as she could, she deliberately put off her orgasm, preferring instead to be lost in the rhythm of mindless coupling they found. Yet, she couldn't go on forever and she felt a guttural moan starting somewhere in her body.

"Oh Palo!!!" she shrieked as the rapture she had put off arrived with a vengeance.

"Oui, Frederique..." he muttered. "Oh, I'm sorry -- he muttered, stopping his stroke."

"No," she gasped. "Don't be."

She turned over her shoulder to let him kiss her from behind.

"She told me you would take care of me, and she gave me her blessings. Oh..."

Her hips began to quiver, the suppressed climax within her fighting to reach full speed.

"So please do, take care of me," she begged. "And you can call me any name you like if you keep this up."

Her arms were against the wall. She laid her head against them and cried out wordlessly as the full orgasm rattled her body. Palo could not help but follow shortly thereafter and his cries mixed with hers as spurt after spurt of his spray emptied into her.

Elsewhere, Scaurus and Seetha were locked in their own lustful battle to fight off the horrible demon which had infected them. This method would prove to be the only effective escape for the four detainees in the days to follow.

* * * *

Galen walked hand-in-hand with Glennis. They were in the long thoroughfare beneath Manhattan and, like always, the two of them were attracting a fair number of stares. Galen, because he was a legend. Glennis, because of her hypnotic and unsettling beauty. They were also constantly followed by adoring Night Foxes, who would dart from their owners to be fondled by the angelic and beautiful girl .

"How is your apartment, my dear?" he asked.

"It is wonderful!" she exclaimed. "Do you know, they bring me food every day? Not once since I arrived here have I had to go out and find something to eat."

"I'm glad," he said. "And I see you have new clothes."

"So many!" she said with a smile. "Every time I stop in a shop, the owners just give me some. That happened above as well, but here they are even more generous."

"Fascinating," said Galen. "Now, will you tell me once again about your childhood -- your earliest memories."

Their few conversations had all been much the same. Galen would prod, and Glennis would innocently deflect his questions. That she remembered something, he was sure, but those memories were buried so far away he wondered if they would ever come back to the surface.

The visits, though, were always pleasant and Galen took great pleasure from simply spending his time with her.

He had his questions and she had hers, which she always asked just before they parted ways.

"Have you decided when I might see Jacob? The boy who can hide like a window?"

"I'm sorry dear," said Galen sadly. "The situation is very complicated."

"But I'm not complicated," she argued. "I'm simple as can be, and I simply want to visit him. What is complicated about that?"

"I'll think on it, dear," he said.

He gave her a tender kiss on her cheek and she hugged him lovingly.

"Goodbye, old man," she said. "You are lucky with years."

Galen made his way back to the house on the park which he and Colette had been sharing with Frederique and Palo since their arrival. The huge underground mansion had been busy since the incident with comings and goings.

Numerous visitors stopped in every day. They consulted with Frederique as well as with Galen on matters surrounding Arnet and what threat he might pose. A full Afflicted raid had been staged on Arnet's building where Jacob had been kept. They had not been surprised to find it empty and gutted. With Arnet's vast resources and his ability to travel by day, it was going to prove terribly difficult to track him down. Especially, due to his serum, they felt they could no longer trust any of their daytime resources.

Galen spent every spare moment in the lab he had established in the mansion's second kitchen. He analyzed and reanalyzed the serum they had retrieved. After two days of work, he felt confident that it was the mortal serum and had no lasting effects. The rest of the time he spent peering into the blood samples of the four children. There were countless candidates for mates for the four of them.

So often the decisions in these cases were more political than biological, and that was more of the challenge. There was also something lingering in the back of his mind that Galen couldn't quite pinpoint.

He arrived back to the underground mansion and gave a cursory greeting to two members of the Council guard who were just leaving. He was surprised to see there was no one else in the building except Frederique, who greeted him wearing a long satin robe.

"Hello Galen, how was your visit with Glennis?" she asked, giving him a very warm kiss on the cheek which he barely noticed.

"Lovely, as always," he muttered.

Still, the stray thought was niggling at him.

"Have you figured out where she came from yet?" asked Frederique.

Frederique had taken him by the hand and was leading him through the house. To where, he did not notice. This wasn't unusual for Galen. He was the original preoccupied scientist, and he'd had nearly two millennia to perfect his absent-minded technique.

"Do you want to hear an insane theory?" he asked her.

"Nothing you say is insane, Galen," she said.

They were in the gymnasium now, though he scarcely noticed. He also scarcely noticed her setting him on a padded couch and unbuttoning his doublet. Frederique found herself making the same discovery that Colette had a few months before. Though Galen's face belied a somewhat older man, his torso was wonderfully fit and trim, looking perhaps like a mortal's body of thirty years of age who exercised frequently.

"This girl, Glennis," Galen mused, "she is exceptionally fair. I don't mean merely the color of her hair and skin. I mean her very being."

"Fair?" asked Frederique. "What do you mean by fair?"

His boots were now removed and his trousers were being unbuttoned.

"I mean... good," continued Galen. "There isn't a thing about her that is dishonest or disingenuous or false. She is pure goodness, through-and-through."

"What does that mean?" asked Frederique. "I mean, scientifically, what conclusions do you draw from that?"

Her hand was now wrapped around his somewhat flaccid, long member. Her tender strokes were bringing it quickly to life, though.

"I don't think she will age," said Galen. "I think she will reach maturity and she will stay that way indefinitely -- but unlike our bodies which the Affliction rejuvenates -- her body is simply too pure to know how to age. Imagine that. Tell me, Frederique, were there any messages for me?"

His cock was now near stiffness and Frederique was enjoying the feeling of such a full, large member in her hand after two days of abstinence.

"Oh yes," she said, kissing his neck tenderly. "Brana is concerned that Jacob is healing too slowly. His sexual appetite is down and he seems a bit moody -- more than can be blamed on being separated from the girls."

"Well sun-shock is no laughing matter...I say, Frederique, what are you doing?!"

Galen, lost in his thoughts, had only then noticed Frederique's activities.

"I'm seducing you, of course," she said calmly.

"But Frederique, I delivered you," he said, somewhat taken aback. "I've known you since you were a baby."

"Oh please, Galen," she said, swinging across his lap to straddle him. "I'm now older than nearly every woman you've ever bedded. Let's put my childhood behind us, for god's sake. Besides, with Palo and Colette quarantined, we've got to do something. It's been two days now. Colette would never forgive me if I didn't see to your needs."

"Fair enough," said Galen. "But can I finish my thought on Glennis."

"Of course, darling Galen. Take your time."

Her robe had fallen open and her breasts were pressing against him. How much time he would be able to take to talk about Glennis was debatable.

"Frederique," he said. "We among the Afflicted are subject to enough legends. Vampires, chiefly, among others. For that reason, what I'm going to say shouldn't be too surprising. I think that Glennis is one of the fair folk."

"A fairy?" asked Frederique. "But she doesn't have pointed ears."

"No," said Galen, "Nor does she have any special powers that I can discern. Yet, she was able to see Jacob where none others could. She could see my great age in a second. The Night Foxes love her. I think the truth of the fairy tales might have some truth to them. I have heard many times of the fair folk. If Glennis is one, then they are very real, very different branch of humanity. The best way I can describe it is this: Imagine if Adam and Eve weren't the only ones in the Garden of Eden. What if they were simply the ones who discovered sin and had to leave, but others remained behind. That is what Glennis's forebears would look like. Innocent, wise, pure. That is just conjecture of course, but whatever she is -- she is remarkable. She... soothes me. "

"I think that is a perfectly logical theory," said Frederique.

She had positioned herself atop Galen's rigid cock. With a sigh, she inched herself downward.

"I have an idea," she whispered.

"What's that, Frederique?" he asked.

"Why don't you send her to Jacob? Not for any reason but to be with him. If she is truly as soothing as you say, perhaps her presence would help move his healing along."

"Frederique, that is a remarkable idea," said Galen. "I will arrange it within the week."

"Oh good," sighed Frederique.

Her cry was not about Jacob and Glennis, but at succeeding in pulling Galen all the way into her.

"Can I confess something to you, Galen?" she whispered.

"Yes?"

"Your mate, Sophia - how lovely she was."

"Yes, she was," agreed Galen. "Her loss is still one of the hardest."

"Yes, but tonight let's not mourn the dead. Let us celebrate them," purred Frederique. "Sophia once confessed to me how much she adored your lovemaking. She, of course, went on endlessly about your marvelous instrument. But what impressed her the most was your knowledge. She said your knowledge of anatomy and the body's inner workings made you the most wondrous lover one could ever imagine. Is that true Galen? I have wondered for centuries just how gifted you are in such matters?"

"I will humbly admit I know a trick or two that are, shall we say, beyond the reach of your typical Afflicted."

"Well then," sighed Frederique. "I look forward to the next hour, or so."

"Oh Frederique," grunted Galen lustily as he stood up, keeping her in place as he did. "An hour won't be nearly enough to show you all the things I know."

"We have time, Galen. Don't you dare leave anything out."

Their lovemaking began, and the thought which had been lurking in Galen's subconscious was pushed back down until another time.

* * * *

Aimée was surprised at how easy it had become to get used to having an observer. On Council's orders, there was to be someone with her at all times -- not out of mistrust, but for her own protection.

Around Aimée's neck was an ornate necklace of pearls and sapphires. What was hidden beneath, however, was the invention of Franz.

Today Aimée was in her quarters and was waiting for the young man she had chosen. Anthony. Every day, Brana came to her with a book full of photographs and sketches, allowing her to choose the volunteer she would take to her bed.

Anthony was a recent graduate of the Academy who had yet to take a mate. Brana had confessed to Aimée that there had always been glowing reports about Tony's attentiveness and especially his stamina.

Aimée had felt the numbness returning again when it came to lovers. She had enjoyed her brief time of freedom in the dorm, but the thrill had waned and she had loved the closeness she had found with Jacob - and Claude. Now, she was only feeding the hungers of her body. Her heart and soul... they were wanting.

Still, it was an adventure in itself to have a new lover every day.

Her guard/observer was Winifred, a stoic-looking, buttoned-up Englishwoman who seemed to lack anything remotely close to a sense of humor. This was day three since Jacob's rescue and Winnie had been her guard for three of the four days. Her other guard, Stenn, had appeared to enjoy his role of observer and she had watched the flush in his face grow more and more red as her adventures went on. She mused that perhaps was why Winnie had been given the assignment more permanently.

Anthony, or Tony as he preferred, entered the room gave Aimée an appraising look.

"She going to be joining us?" he asked, looking to Winnie.

"I don't know," said Aimée with a grin. "What do you say, Winnie? Are you up for it tonight?"

"Thank you, but no," said her chaperone, mouth in a thin line.

Winifred removed a small volume from her handbag and sat down upon a chair.

"Do continue," she urged them. "I'll be right here."

"I know you will," said Aimée.

Aimée had already begun undressing. She felt that with these mandatory trysts it was best to simply dive right in. Teasing and playing, slowly undressing, these were the rituals of someone testing the other person -- of feeling them out, of learning them. She had spent ours with Jacob, and Claude, slowly undressing and teasing. There had been emotional undertones there. Here, she knew it was all for just one thing.

She appraised Tony and wasn't displeased with what she saw. He wasn't as muscular as Claude, nor was he terribly well endowed (though not tiny, by any means). What she liked was that he had an intensity about him. He was like a great cat on the hunt, and his prey was Aimée.

"So, Aimée, what's your number? How many do you want?" he asked.

"How many what?"

Tony grinned confidently. "I detect a hint of French in your accent. How many petit morts? How many small deaths do you want? Six? Seven?

"Why not twelve?" said Aimée.

"Why not?" said Tony. "Of course, that's before I have any myself. No telling where we go from there."

Aimée looked at him with an air of distrust.

"Are you saying you can bring me to twelve before you even have one? Not even if I try to wring one out of you?"

"Absolutely," said Tony.

For the first time, Winnie showed something. She gave the tiniest snort of disbelief, though she never looked up from her book.

"You don't believe me?" said Tony to Winnie.

Her silence was a tacit affirmation.

"Very well then," said Tony. "I'll make it thirteen -- not to say it won't be pleasurable for me. We begin."

Tony dropped down in front of Aimée and immediately set to work.

He was good. Aimée had never experienced a lover with such a talented tongue and fingers. She had one orgasm standing, at which point her knees buckled and she dropped onto the fainting couch behind her (an apt description), before she had even caught her breath she was on the way to a second."

Two hours later, Winnie had not read a single paragraph of her book. She watched in wonder as Tony (also a flier) pummeled Aimée directly above her in an almost scissor-like fashion, Aimée's legs spread wide her body turned perpendicular to his.

"Are you ready for thirteen?" asked Tony.

"Oh please yes, finish me Tony," moaned Aimée. "But you, too. Please you this time -- with me."

"As you wish," he agreed.

An exhausted but rhapsodic squeal escaped Aimée's throat when Tony pulled her into him again and again. He cried out himself this time, and the thrusting grew slower and slower as he poured his cum deeply into her.

Winnie did not notice the droplets that fell onto the open book in her lap.

Tony and Aimée descended. Tony gently set Aimée down on the fainting couch, then bent over to whisper into Winnie's ear -- who was still staring straightforward in shock.

"Thirteen," he said seductively. "I suspect, Winnie, that a great deal hides beneath that prim exterior. Look me up some time and we'll see how things go."

He kissed Winnie's ear tenderly, his tongue snaking out to tease her. Winnie stayed in that spot, staring at nothing for a long while after Tony departed.

* * * *

Abby had never felt so empty. For the longest time her existence had truly been multi-faceted. In a way, it was as though she saw the world as an insect might -- through countless lenses. The lenses were the eyes of everyone around her, and the those views were also tinged by the emotional overtones of each person's eyes she borrowed.

Now, her world felt incredibly small. The majority of her time there was only Yusef, one of the few members of the Afflicted who had had minor empathic abilities. His empath skills were negligible, but he did know how to shield his mind from any intrusions.

At first, Abby found him to be dry and humorless. He was descended from the Afflicted branch who had occupied the city of Petra which they had carved out of the rocks. The Afflicted people living there had been able to live a nearly normal life in the cavernous city until an earthquake had cut off the ancient rivers feeding the city.

In their conversations Abby soon learned that Yusef was a deep thinker and a gentle soul. He was simply deliberate and reserved in his manner. He'd had a brother who had been blind and he was actually very helpful in teaching Abby how to navigate without the aid of others' eyes.

Then, there were the lovers. For Abby, they were the bright spot of her day. Whereas Aimée just viewed her lovers as tools to satisfy her sexual needs, Abby savored each moment a young man came to visit. Her world was truly empty when she was alone, so the young men provided her with the sight, the hearing, and the emotions that she craved so deeply.

By the time each new young man arrived, she was ravenous for contact, and they were the beneficiaries of her longing.

On this morning, man who arrived wasn't as young as the others.

He stopped at the door and saw the beautiful redhead wearing a fine silk robe which was diaphanous enough to hint at the treasures below.

"Hello, my name is..."

"I know your name," said Abby. "You are Sean Blake and you are nearly sixty years old. You hail from Ireland and you were brought into our kind by a woman named Stacia, and... oh dear, I am so sorry for your loss."

"She grew careless," said Sean in his Irish brogue. "She shouldn't have died."

"But you still miss her," said Abby. "You're angry at her, but you miss her at the same time."

Sean dropped his head, looking to the ground sadly. "This is true," he said in a quiet voice.

"Come here, Sean," Abby said. "Sit at my feet and we'll talk."

"You read my mind," said Sean, bluntly. "You seem to know everything about me. You don't need to talk."

"No," agreed Abby, "but you do. Come here, Sean, let's make this a pleasant day."

He did as she bade him, and Abby and Sean began to talk. They talked of his childhood in Cork, of his first loves, of the day he met Stacia and how excited he had been to find his gift was to be a water breather. Once immersed, his skin served in the same fashion as the gills of a fish. This fascinated Abby to no end.

As they spoke, Abby's hands slowly explored his body with him barely knowing it. Her tender ministrations gradually brought him to a point of both relaxation and arousal.
Their conversation somehow naturally evolved into lovemaking, and Sean found himself lost in a fog of erotic and sensual overload. For Abby, her unions were the only time to feel truly alive every day. As such, she was determined that her partners would benefit from her gifts as much as possible.

As Sean's body eventually shook with his third climax, he held Abby close and she reveled in the desperate way he pulled her to his body.

"By the gods, girl, you are one of the most amazing things I've ever known."

"I thank you Sean," said Abby with a smile. "You are also wonderful."

"And you aren't mated yet?"

"No," she admitted.

For the first time that night, he saw a trace of sadness in her face.

"I could ask," he insisted in the heat of the moment. "I could ask if we might be right for each other. I promise you Abby, I'd never treat you poorly."

"Oh Sean, that means more to me than you can imagine. But, I'm afraid my heart does not belong to me. Nor does my life, for that matter. Both of those things belong to the Council."

"The Council?" asked Sean. "But what do you mean?"

"Nothing," said Abby. "Please, Sean. We just have this one time together. Let's make the most of it."

The rest of their time was indeed pleasurable. For their final time, Abby had to satisfy her curiosity. She filled the tub in her suite as full as possible and marveled as Sean sank to the bottom and waited for her there. In the beginning, she rode him with her torso above the water, but he eventually communicated to her that she would be safe below as well.

He pulled her down to his mouth and they moved in slow undulations. They splashed water over the edges with their motion. He was able to pull oxygen from the water and breathe it back into Abby's lungs. They emerged feeling almost reborn in a way.

Around a half hour later Abby walked Sean to the door, Sean was clothed once again, Abby wore a simple terrycloth robe. Her hair was still damp from their adventure in the bathtub.

"You're a darling, that's for sure," said Sean. "I hope our paths cross again -- soon."

"It was delightful, Sean. Thank you for letting me get to know you."

They kissed and Sean departed. Yusef stood by the door, as solid as ever. As Abby turned to return to her bedchamber, his voice rang out.

"Abby, may I say something?"

"Of course, Yusef," she said, turning back to him with her usual smile.

"Young woman, I hope you don't take this for anything other than the compliment I mean it to be. I have seen four men come here as strangers and I have seen four men walk out of here willing to hand you their hearts. I have also seen them treated to the kind of lovemaking that is very, very rare. What I want to say is, if you ever chose to turn your attentions to becoming a courtesan, there would not be a king in the world who wouldn't give his entire treasure house for one night with you. I don't mean to suggest that you should, I just mean..."

"I know what you mean," said Abby, blushing. "And I take it as the compliment it is meant to be. Yusef, can I ask you for a favor?"

"If it is allowed, anything," said Yusef.

"Would you read to me?" said Abby.

"I would be honored," said Yusef with a smile. "And I have just the book."

He reached into his traveling bag and pulled out a worn leather volume.

"The Seven Beauties, by Nizami, he said. "It is one of the great treasures of the East. You will love it. There is nothing more beautiful than hearing it in the native Persian."

"But I don't speak Persian," said Abby, sadly.

"I will open that part of my mind," said Yusef quietly. "I will speak the words, and you will see the meaning in my mind's eye."

"You can do that?" whispered Abby.

"Of course, but don't tell anyone, I'm sure it would be frowned on."

"You can trust me," said Abby.

"I know, dear girl," said Yusef. "I know I am as safe with you as I would be with my own mother."

* * * *

Brana was a bit harried. Running the dorms and all that entailed was a difficult enough job as it was. Now she had the four special cases to worry about and their schedules.

The boys, in particular, were a challenge. Four days now, and every evening she arrived to find a very, very long line of women. As soon as the women spotted her, she would be surrounded with each woman begging to be given a night with one of the young stallions.

"I have work," she said sternly. "Schedules to manage, food to order, stacks of paperwork."

"But..." started one woman.

"I will see you when I can," she said. "Just, give me a few minutes and then you may come in, one at a time, to plead your case."

Brana retreated to her office and angrily worked her way through sheaf of orders and requests on her desk. When she was done, she deliberately poured herself a cup of tea to drink and drank it slowly, determined not to let the circling buzzards outside compromise her schedule. At last she opened her door and called out.

"Very well ladies"

A well-coifed, bejeweled woman in expensive clothes pushed her way to the front of the cue and forced her way into the office.

"Brana, dearest."

It was Irina Neratoff, a woman who had served on the minor council several times during her five hundred years. Brana remembered Irina's granddaughter, Marian, from a decade before. She had been a rather spoiled cadet at the beginning, but had turned out to be quite a dear.

"Word has it that you are harboring some young stallions in need of companions."

"It's true," said Brana. "If Marian is available, just let me know."

"Oh goodness no, Brana -- I wish to volunteer myself. It has been so long since I've been able to drink from a lovely young fountain. Gregor is certainly a wonderful lover, but a stallion he is not."

"Irina," said Brana. "You are twenty-five times the boys' age. Though they are lustful, they are innocent. You know far too much and would spoil them."

"I would educate them," insisted Irina. "How thirsty I am just thinking of it."

"Well, I'll put you on the list," she said. "The final word is up to Galen, of course. We'll let you know."

That was, of course, a lie. Beyond the restriction of no one person for more than a day, Galen had left the choices entirely up to Brana's discretion. She had learned that 'the list' was an answer more easily accepted than a simple 'no'.

The parade of women continued through her office. Some were bored, most were licentious and randy, and then there were the few:

It was the last woman of the day. Brana had thought everyone had left, but stepped into the office to see the woman starting to leave.

"Hello?" she said curiously.

"Oh," said the woman in a trembling voice. "I had changed my mind. I was just leaving."

"No, please," she said. "Do come in."

The woman came closer into the stronger light and Brana had to hold back a gasp. There was a haunted look about the woman that was unmistakable.

The Afflicted always looked alive. Some chose to look younger than others. The shallow and vain usually chose an appearance of around twenty years of age. Others valued a more mature look, but the look of an Afflicted was universally vibrant.

This woman looked weary and spent. It was the look of one who might be dying, who might be growing weary of her time on earth. By mortal standards, she might have looked like an Asian woman in her thirties. By hospital standards, she would have been diagnosed with consumption on first blush.

"How may I help you, good woman," inquired Brana.

She led the sad lady back into her office.

"My name is Seika," said the woman after a long pause. "My mate was Haru Morimoto, he was taken in a raid by the black guard some fifteen years ago."

"I am so sorry," said Brana.

Seika began to break down, tears flowing freely.

"I have tried," she sobbed. "I laid with my brother-in-law because he looked like my husband. I submitted my name to the Council and they sent me many candidates, but none of them were right for me. I even lived in a brothel. I thought, perhaps out of the hundreds of men I might find one who my body cried out for. There was no one. "

"Now," she continued, "now I go to the singles quarters once a week and find someone, just to feed my body, but it doesn't seem worth it. Nothing seems worth it."

She cried some more. Brana crossed to sit beside her and took her hand gently.

"I was ready," said Seika. "I was ready to go. Just yesterday I stared at the door of my apartment. I watched the line of light peaking around the edges of the entryway. I was this close to simply opening it and stepping out. I don't know what stopped me."

"Then I heard of the stallions," Seika said quietly. "It isn't that I wish to take one to mate. I wouldn't presume so much. No, I thought of their seed. I thought back on my times with Haru. We were each other's first mates, and yes, I knew him as a stallion. I still remember the times just before the Blood ritual. I drank from him for days at a time, it seemed. We were so young -- so alive. I thought, perhaps, that is what my body needs. Perhaps if I could taste so much, if my skin could be bathed in that deliciousness swimming with life -- perhaps that could wake me once again. I know it's silly, but those were the thoughts going through my mind. I'm sorry for wasting your time."

She got up to leave but Brana held her arm to stop her.

"Wait," said Brana. "I have to tell you, it's true."

"What?" asked Seika incredulously.

"Seika, I was talking with Madame Villepreux-Power just the other day and she told me just such a thing. She said the seed of an Afflicted stallion is so alive, so curious, that it has often been known to have healing effects. Here."

Brana wrote down an address and slipped it into Seika's hand.

"There is a young man named Claude," she whispered. "He will spill more onto you and into you than you could ever imagine. If there is a cure in this route, he is the one to provide it. Meet me at this address in three hours."

As Seika left, Brana wondered superstitiously if she was bringing bad luck on herself for telling such fibs. Madame Villepreux-Power had said no such thing, but this woman was near death. Brana didn't see the harm in a little white lie if it gave this poor woman hope.

* * * *

It had only been five days, but Claude was growing a bit weary of the routine. Each day, a new woman, each day another goodbye -- and each day he still missed the girls desperately. His mind hopped back and forth between memories of, and longings for, Abby and Aimée in equal measures.

Now, he was being used as some sort of charity worker. Brana had briefed him on this Seika and he wasn't very happy about it. A hopeless woman who might be dying. the idea frightened him in many ways.

Yet the woman who presented herself at the door surprised him. She was dressed in an elegant silk kimono and her hair was pushed up with beautiful jade hairpins. Yes, her eyes bore a haunted look -- but she was certainly lovely.

"Thank you for having me," said Seika demurely. "I know an aging widow would not have been your first choice, but I promise you my skills are not lacking. I have the experience of two centuries and the techniques of five continents at my disposal. I assure you, I will do my best to please."

A half hour later, Claude believed every word she had said. His own mother (a stunning sexual being with six centuries' experience) had initiated him in the ways of expert manual and oral pleasure, but Seika made even the wondrous Frederique look like a highly skilled amateur when it came to pleasing a man. In those mere thirty minutes, Seika had worked him with her hands, her mouth, and even her feet. She had pleasured Claude in ways that left him practically paralyzed in ecstasy. Every time he was near, she seemed to know the perfect time to retreat and leave him at the edge. Several times, she actually let him begin to cum, but squeezed the base of his cock in some way that stopped things at once. Twice, he was sure he felt the surging cum retreat into his system.

Now she was ready. She was kneeling in front of him and sliding his huge member all the way into her tiny mouth and entirely down her throat.

"Now," she gasped as she pulled him out, releasing the vice-like grip she had around the base of his shaft.

It had been a long time coming and with Claude's condition there was a titanic amount. It had been some time since a lover had been able to contain all of Claude's first burst of the day, but Seika seemed hell-bent on doing just that. Stream after stream poured down her throat and she swallowed it greedily. At last she couldn't take any more and pulled back, aiming his cock down her body for the last few bursts (which, by themselves, would have been all a mortal could ever hope to muster).

Claude's eyes were closed in gratified bliss as Seika raised up, rubbing his glistening cock between her breasts as she did. Opening his eyes, Claude almost cried out in surprise. This was a different woman. Her eyes were bright and no longer had circles beneath them. Her smile was genuine and not forced, and beyond everything there was a renewed hunger in her eyes that was undeniable.

"Did I please you well, young man?"

"I... oh my god," gasped Claude. "Can I ask, whoever I end up with as my mate, will you give her lessons?"

"I promise I will," she said with a smile.

Then she blushed and whispered.

"And much to my surprise, I think it is a promise I might be able to keep."

An hour later, she was riding him to her third orgasm. Her tiny frame could not contain all of his ample shaft, but she took in all she could, his mammoth cock bouncing against her cervix with each descent of her slender body.

Claude was near another orgasm and she elicited another anguished groan as she stopped him once more.

"Why do you keep doing that?" he cried.

"It builds up," she explained. "Done properly, you gather even more fluid within you. I want so much, so very much indeed."

Moments later she was squatting above him, bouncing up and down on his shaft with surprising athleticism as she lowered and raised herself in direct vertical motions.

Claude gasped out.

"Please, this time?" he begged.

"Very well, my stallion," she agreed.

She descended down as far as her body would take and squeezed him with her inner muscles, urging his long-awaited eruption to begin.

Perhaps more sensuous than anything she had done so far, the look on her face as she took his cum into her was something Claude would never forget. It was as though she was willing every drop to find its way somewhere into her body -- into her very being. As Claude felt himself exploding, he was hypnotized at the rapture upon Seika's face. Even when he was done, she kept her eyes closed and continued rocking back and forth on his shaft -- milking him with tiny moans escaping from her lips.

After a while, she reluctantly lifted off him and sighed at the sound of his white magic dripping out of her and back onto him. Then she lowered herself down onto the length of his shaft and slid her soaked pussy up and down his length.

"You're still hard," she purred.

"It happens," said Claude. "Especially after seeing what I just saw."

She pondered the situation. "What am I going to do with all of this lovely slipperiness? Hmm."

She reached down and grabbed his shiny pole to maneuver it behind her. He groaned as she pushed it between her cheeks, rubbing his slickness everywhere.

"Brana says you are young," murmured Seika. "Are you so young that you've never done this?"

"No, I haven't," groaned Claude.

"Then we both shall win," said Seika. "You will have your first time there, and I will have you filling me in every place. You will help me with this, won't you?"

"Yes," whispered Claude.

Her tight brown bud seemed both anxious and reluctant to take him. Slowly at first, he pushed his way in, Seika gasping with each fraction of an inch he moved in. Claude felt he was almost past the tightest point and he unconsciously lifted them from the ground. That tiny burst of gravity was all it took and he suddenly felt her tight opening relax, sending him surging into her more sacrosanct passage.

Seika gave a cry and Claude couldn't tell if her subsequent hiss was of pleasure or pain, or a mix of both.

"Hurt?" he asked tenderly.

"Only in a good way," she moaned. "How amazing this feels. And you didn't tell me you were a flier. That will make this way ever-so-much more interesting.

Hours later, Brana arrived at Claude's temporary lodging and gave in inquiring glance to the guard who stood inside. He simply gave Brana an affirmative raise of the eyebrows as she peeked into the rooms beyond.

Claude was splayed out across a couch, lost in exhausted sleep. Seika had risen upon hearing Brana's arrival and was retrieving a less formal, more Western dress from the bag she had brought. Still naked, she turned to see Brana and gave a cry of delight, running to Brana to embrace her.

"Oh Brana, what a lovely night!" she said. "It was just what the doctor ordered, truly."

"I'm so glad," said Brana. "You look wonderful. So energetic, so happy, so..."

"Alive?" offered Seika. "My friend, I don't know if there was any truth to what you said, but I feel like there was. The milk of a young stallion. Good medicine."

Seika still had the dress hanging over her arm and was beginning to put it on when Brana noticed something.

"Umm, Seika, you might want to freshen up... bathe perhaps before you go?"

"But why?" asked the woman.

"You, uh..."

Brana indicated a white, flaky patch on Seika's cheek then her hand drifted down to illustrate further. There was scarcely a patch of skin on Seika's entire body that didn't bear some trace of Claude's voluminous offerings.

Seika gave a girlish giggle that Brana wouldn't have believed could have come out of her not twenty-four hours before.

"My goodness," she said. "I think I'll just keep it there, as a souvenir. I have a wonderful tub in my home, imported from Japan. It will be so much more enjoyable to wash it off there. Thank you again, Brana, this was a life-altering night.

* * * *

Jacob was weary. The sun-shock had taken more out of him than he had realized.

To be tired, truly tired, was unusual in itself for an Afflicted. To feel pain of the sort that he still felt in the darkened patch of his back -- it was unheard of. Two months prior, a blade had slipped in training and the gash had been to the bone of his upper arm. In less than a day there had been no pain, in two days it had been a seam, in four days, not a trace of a scar remained.

His sun-scarred back still ached, so did the cuts that had come from the whip. As one of the Afflicted, having to deal with lingering wounds was a new sensation and one which he detested more by the day. The constant pain put him in a foul mood.

Worst of all were the women. Brana arranged them. She told Jacob that Galen insisted, but even the companions were different. For the first time since his awakening, he did not have a constant hunger for a woman. Of course, it didn't take much convincing when each woman arrived, but his energy wasn't as high and he was perhaps only good for one or two climaxes a day.

The climaxes were the most annoying part of all. He had been a stallion. Since his awakening, the volume of his ejaculations had only gone up and up. However, because of the sun shock his volume had been normal.

He might not have minded, if it weren't for the looks on the women's faces. He was sure what they'd been told. 'Come sleep with a stallion.' The woman on Wednesday, particularly, had not been very good at hiding her disappointment when she had knelt before him and seen the few teaspoons-worth that landed on her chest.
The visits from women had turned into his least favorite part of the day.

Jacob practically cringed at hearing the knock on the outer door.

He knew the routine well by now. Due to his gift, his guards remained outside. When someone wished to enter, they knocked. Jacob was then to sit in the bench directly across from the door so he could be seen through the view hole. Little matter that made, he thought to himself. He hadn't been able to turn invisible since the sun. Rules were rules though, so Jacob dutifully rose up from the couch and crossed to the bench.

Once his presence was verified, the door opened and the inner door, an iron grate that slid from the floor, slid down.

"Hello Jacob," said Brana, stepping in and smiling warmly. As soon as she stepped in, the grate slid back up. Two guards watched ominously from beyond.

"Hello Brana."

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"About the same. Tired. Sore. Balls a bit empty."

"Galen assures me it will all come back," she assured him, patting his cheek. "Jacob, I have a special visitor, today."

"I can hardly wait."

"No Jacob," said Brana quite seriously. "A very special visitor. Unlike any you've had this week, or ever, for that matter. Glennis!"

An ethereal beauty stepped in front of the grate. Jacob's mind searched for where he had seen her before. She gave him a smile that would have melted the hardest of hearts.

"Let her in," whispered Jacob. "By all means, let her in"

The grate slid down and remained down and the girl stepped in. Jacob still couldn't remember her, but he was captivated.

"Jacob, this is Glennis," said Brana. "She has been wanting to meet you for some time."

Glennis walked to the bench to sit beside Claude. She gazed at him adoringly so long it made him uncomfortable.

Without even turning her head, Glennis spoke.

"You may go now Brana."

It didn't sound like an order, but that was undoubtedly what it was.

Brana said a pleasant goodbye and left them to their own devices. Jacob found himself still struggling to remember the girl as the door clanked shut.

"I have been wanting to see you again for so long, Jacob-who-hides-like-a-window."

The dawn of recognition crossed Jacob's face, and it was not a happy one.

"You!" he said, his face turning an angry shade of red.

"You are... displeased with me?"

"No," said Jacob angrily. "I'm ecstatic to meet the girl who almost got me killed."

The expression on the girl's face almost changed Jacob's mind right away, but he was determined to stay mad at her. He turned away so her hypnotic eyes couldn't work their effect on him any further.

Soon, he felt her hand on his shoulder.

Jacob, I... I am naïve. That's a word that Galen used. He said that 'naïve' didn't have to be an entirely bad word, but that being naïve is not such a good thing in the world sometimes. Always, my entire life, I have been lucky -- but you are the first person I have ever hurt because of how naïve I was. People... they don't harm me, I don't know why. But last week, I found out what happened to you because of what I did and I cried for the longest time."

"Oh," said Jacob.

He could hear that she was near crying now.

He turned back to her and it wrenched his heart to see the tears forming in her eyes.

"I thought it was a game," she said. "I love hide and seek, but I had never seen someone hide the way you did. I wanted to get to know you better. I don't understand why people would hurt each other."

"How did you see me?"

"I'm not sure. I just knew you were there... in here," she said, tapping her chest. "In here, I could see you as plain as anything. Though my eyes saw you were not there, it didn't matter. I knew. So, I went to you and caused a great deal of trouble, as I understand it. I'm sorry, once again."

"Who are you?" asked Jacob.

"They call me Glennis, but I think my name is...something else. I can never quite remember."

"Well Glennis," he said, trying to reassure her. "We can look at this two ways. One, you accidently revealed me to Arnet and I was captured, and so on. Two, without you, we might have never known the truth about Arnet and his plans. He has captured many members of the Afflicted in the past, but none of them lived to tell the tale. I was only able to be rescued because of my sister and Aimée with their amazing talents."

"I like to think of it the second way," said Glennis, laughing through her tears.

"So do I," said Jacob.

"But I still don't know you," said Glennis. "That is why I am here, to get to know this boy who can hide like a window."

She reached out to take his hand. It was the first time her skin had touched his and it was electrifying. Jacob gasped at the touch as their two systems somehow exchanged a greeting. Glennis also felt it and her eyes flew open wide at the curious jolt of recognition.

They sat that way for some time, both of them uncertain of what was happening. The closest sensation Jacob could liken it to was the way it felt when Abby reached out to him in intimate times and established a rapport. This was like that, but without the sexual overtones. The possibility of intimate love seemed there, but this was just a 'hello'. This 'buzz' was just their systems getting to know each other. Regardless of what level of sexual attraction they felt, both of them could have let that moment go on forever. Eventually, Jacob's other hand reached out to take hers and they sat there for countless minutes, staring into each other's eyes.

"You're still hurt," said Glennis at last.

"Yes," said Jacob. "It is called sun-shock. Madame Villepreux-Power explained that it is the Affliction's survival mechanism. The Affliction cells retreat from the sun."

"I don't understand what cells might be," said Glennis.

"I'm not sure I full understand it either," said Jacob. "But for now, you wanted to get to know me. Why don't we concentrate on that."

"I'd like that," said Glennis with a smile.

"But I want to get to know you, too" insisted Jacob. "You first. Where are you from?"

Glennis reiterated the same tale she'd told many others, how her early memories were cloudy and she remembered a boat and a storm, and arriving at the base of Manhattan in a small boat.

Jacob relived his times in Canada. They exchanged childhood memories, Jacob's revolved around his family, those of Glennis were more vague but she did remember the various families who had taken her in. She had favorite street vendors who could always spare her a few chestnuts or pastries.

She also told of him of her favorite sleeping places, which had obviously been more important in the winters.

"You slept in a bank?" asked Jacob, in wonder.

"I did," she said. "Three winters running. The first winter, the guard let me in. Then, the bank president found out and he let me sleep in his office every night where there was a fireplace."

"Didn't anyone ever try to adopt you?" asked Jacob.

"No," she said simply. "Some people asked, but I told them I didn't want to be adopted and they left me alone."

"How old are you?" asked Jacob after a while.

"I've never quite worked that out," said Glennis. "It never seemed important."

"We should figure it out," said Jacob. "You said you walked when you came off the boat after the storm, so I can only guess you were at least three or four when you came here. Let's say four. You remember winters fairly strongly, let's count from there."

They began to count over the winters and the places she had found shelter regularly each year. Soon, they had reached twenty, then twenty five.

"Now then, the thirtieth winter I remember, I remember that, it was four years ago. That was the year I had to get new clothes because I got these."

She grabbed her breasts through her blouse to illustrate.

"It didn't make me happy," she went on. "I had my very favorite dress and it didn't fit around my chest or my hips any more. "

"Fascinating," mused Jacob.

"What?" she asked.

"You are probably somewhere near forty years old, but I wouldn't put you anywhere past eighteen if someone asked me to guess," said Jacob. "You didn't start developing until after thirty years, and you've survived all that time in one of the roughest cities in the world -- not a scratch on you."

Glennis shrugged with a bemused smile on her face. It meant nothing to her. It was as though she was living among humans, but not with them. She found them amusing and fascinating, but had never truly connected with them.

Their conversation continued and she kept telling stories of her favorite places in Manhattan, and Jacob's tale soon reached the point in his life of the raid on his village and his confinement with his sister in the mountain bunker. He felt an uncanny sense of trust with Glennis and before he knew it, he was telling her of their awakening and of how they were eventually forced to appease their lusts with each other.

"We knew it was wrong," explained Jacob, "but we didn't have much choice."

"Why was it wrong?" asked Glennis. "Brothers and sisters love each other. That's part of what families do."

"Oh Glennis, I wish I could give you a clear answer on that. Biologically, there are many reasons why incest should be avoided in any species. Our science instructors talk about recessives and dominants, and all of these other things. With the Afflicted, it is more complicated. There have been numerous examples of brothers and sisters and half-siblings becoming bloodmates over the years, but offspring are mostly forbidden. For first bloodmate, the council strongly discourages sibling pairings... and blah, blah, blah. Long story short, Abby and I did what we had to, just like Claude and Aimée. Now, we're trying to find a way past it. I just hope Galen can find a way to work it all out with matching gifts and cells and all of the complications we seem to have created."

"And who are Claude and Aimée?" asked Glennis, patiently.

Jacob explained the complicated relationship with Claude and Aimée, eventually, they had each other's stories caught up to the present day.

"Jacob, can I ask you something?" asked Glennis.

He was surprised to see her blushing.

"I want to know what it feels like, in your heart, when you lie with someone you care for. I know about the sex parts. I have seen the girls who sell themselves in the Bowery. I have watched them raise their skirts for men in alleys. I have sometimes seen husbands and wives through windows. Just a little while ago, I began to have stirrings. What is it like... to want someone in that way?"

"Oh," said Jacob.

He thought about it for a long while and searched for the right words.

"I suppose, it really is like a hunger," said Jacob. "When you are hungry, your body yearns for food and once you've eaten, that longing doesn't just go away. It is more than that. Your body is satisfied. It is better than it was before you ate. When you kiss someone, or you lay with them it is like that. This Affliction, it has terrible hungers. What I would say is, we will often kiss or take someone to our bed... and perhaps we will leave that encounter and it will be like we had a snack. A plain piece of bread or some soup. After those encounters, we're no longer hungry, but there also isn't more. When I lie with Aimée or Abby, it's like a feast. With them, I have that 'more', like I've just had a steak and mashed potatoes and dessert, too."

Glennis pondered his words, and then blushed again. She couldn't even look him in the eyes which was odd, because she had been staring deeply at him the entire time they had spoken. Now, she was looking away.

"Jacob," she whispered. "I have had this stirring, of late. I have wished to kiss someone, but every time I see a boy it doesn't feel right. I have seen no boys who I want to try this kissing and more with. Then, I saw you hiding like a window. I decided I should try it with you. I know your heart is confused and given to other girls, but I am here now. I was wondering if you would teach me how to kiss. I was wondering, if you could help this hunger that has been growing. Will you?"

Jacob contemplated her request seriously.

He finally spoke in a soft tone. "I think that being the first man to kiss you would be an honor higher than few men have ever known."

Jacob took her hand and led her to comfortable couch. He had contemplated the bed, but wanted to be sure there was no intimation that there would be something beyond kissing. In truth, his suppressed system allowed him to keep his lust quite in check.

They turned to face each other and she looked trustingly into his eyes.

"How is it done?" she asked quietly.

"Like this," he whispered.

He placed his hand softly on her cheek and she did the same with her own hand. Very slowly, he pulled the trembling girl toward him and was surprised to find that he was trembling as well. Instinctively and with his gently guiding hand, she turned her head and their lips met. For a lifetime in a minute, they stayed like that, their lips touching. When they pulled back, both of them had tears in their eyes.

"I was lost in the snow once," Glennis finally said. "I was walking for hours and it had been a day since I had eaten. I was so hungry. I came upon a house where a great glow was pouring out the front window. Inside, a family and their friends were gathered for a Christmas dinner. I walked up to the door and found that it was open. I walked in and sat in an empty chair, they didn't even ask who I was -- they just set me a plate. The turkey, the ham, the sweet potatoes. They were perfect."

"I did not know I was hungry, Jacob," Glennis said as she brushed the tears from her eyes. "But this kiss, I know now that I was starving, like you say. Please, feed me some more."

Jacob obliged and the two of them sat on the couch and kissed intensely for the longest time. Eventually, their hands sought out each other -- but it wasn't in a sexual way. Jacob's hands brushed innocently past Glennis's breasts to reach for her waist and pull her closer to him. Her hands played with his face and his hair before eventually finding their way to his back.

Jacob winced when Glennis stopped kissing him.

"What's wrong, Jacob?"

"It's the sun-shock," he said. "It is the oddest thing. There aren't any scars and the skin is just a bit red. Yet, it hurts like it would with a bruise."

"Let me see," she said.

He carefully removed his shirt and turned so she could see him.

"Oh my," she whispered.

She leaned in and tenderly placed her lips to a spot just below his shoulder blade. Jacob was surprised that it didn't hurt at all. Glennis pulled away and giggled.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"Come here," she said, pulling him to a mirror on the wall.

Jacob turned to look over his shoulder and had to laugh himself on seeing the outline of Glennis's lips forming a white patch against the redder sun-shocked portion of the rest of his back.

"What did you do?" he asked.

She thought about what she had done.

"Well," she said, "I tried to picture these cell things that you talked about and I just imagined that they were afraid. When I kissed you, I tried to speak to them in my mind and tell them there was nothing to be afraid of anymore."

"It seems to have worked," said Jacob.

"Come here, Jacob," said Glennis.

She took him by the hand and led him to the one place he had wanted to avoid, the bed.

Silencing any protests he might have, she pushed him gently down so he lay on his stomach and she climbed up and straddled him.

"Glennis, I don't..."

"Shh!" she urged him. "Just let me take care of you."

Jacob grew worried about being in such an evocative position with Glennis, but after about the third kiss, he quickly forgot. Her kisses on his skin were not only soothing, but hypnotic as well. He felt an engulfing sense of peace wash through him with each touch of her lips on his back. For Glennis, it was also satisfying as she saw his skin grow normal once again in patchwork of curved impressions.

The peace evolved from comfort to drowsiness with each new patch that was healed, and Jacob soon couldn't speak or move from being so tired. He started to say something to her, and he wondered if he did or just imagined doing so. As she kept kissing his back, Jacob fell into a deep, profound sleep.

After perhaps an hour, Glennis looked down at his back, fully healed. She had a great sense of accomplishment.

"Jacob, would you like to kiss some more?"

There was no reply. She peered around to look at his face and saw that he was snoring gently.

"That's a good idea, Jacob," she said tenderly. "I am quite tired myself."

She laid her head down between his shoulder blades and soon joined him in sleep.

* * * *

Jacob was fiercely uncomfortable. He took stock of his situation. There was someone lying on top of him. He thought back on the night before and realized it was Glennis.

Was she why he was uncomfortable? He evaluated himself and realized, no, her weight atop him was amazingly reassuring. She was surprisingly light.

That wasn't the problem.

There was an ache. It was a fierce ache.

Were his arms asleep?

No.

Was the problem his back?

No.

His back felt... perfect. Glennis had miraculously healed him with her tender, healing kisses.

He scanned through his body. Head, good. Back, good. Arms, good.

Waist...

There it was.

He was lying atop a raging erection. It was not just hard, it was pulsing. The beast had been reawakened with a vengeance and it was trapped awkwardly in in his trousers beneath both he and Glennis. He was so hard he could feel the mattress bouncing up and down in tiny ways as each heartbeat pushed blood into his aching member.

His cock was crying out for release. His Affliction had been revived and it was firmly reminding him it had been more than a day since a partner.

Did it yearn for Glennis, he wondered?

He evaluated the situation and his feelings. If his body had a voice, it certainly wouldn't complain about Glennis.

He turned his head and looked at small clock on the wall. 8:30 AM. If Brana was keeping to her normal schedule, she would be along any minute. He would be damned if he would let his one time with Glennis be a five minute tryst. He couldn't do that to her either. If was to be her first time, it should be done right.

"Glennis," he whispered. "Glennis!"

She began to stir, and like him, she took a little while to remember where she was.

"Good morning Jacob," she said, smiling. "Oh, what a wonderful night. I barely remember falling asleep."

"Me neither," he agreed.

She rolled off of him and then snuggled beneath his arm, squeezing in to push him up on his side so they were facing each other.

"Jacob?"

"Yes, Glennis?"

"I'm hungry again. In fact, I'm starving."

She moved her face closer to his and their kiss was, if possible, both softer and more intense than their first kiss from the night before.

Jacob felt her hand on his chest and it was as though an electrical current was passing between the two of them. It was not lust. It was something more. Yet, it could easily evolve into something more sensual very quickly, and they were both aware of it.

"Jacob," she whispered. "I want to..."

"We need to wait," said Jacob through gritted teeth. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but now isn't the time. If we are ever to do this, I have to tell you that now isn't it. You are... you are special, Glennis. If we are going to make love, I want to do it right and proper, and not be interrupted. Do you understand?"

"I think so," said Glennis.

She took this with the same peaceful acceptance that she did everything else in her life. They kissed a bit longer, and Jacob felt the longing continuing to grow. He was more than a bit disappointed when the knock came on the door.
He and Glennis kissed a few more times on the way to the bench in front of the door. Out of curiosity, Jacob willed himself to become invisible, and was gratified to see his gift had returned. Brana looked through the view hole and couldn't help but smile as Jacob faded into view on the bench.

Glennis gave Jacob one final kiss farewell and departed.

Just as Brana was about to leave, Jacob called out to her.

"Wait, please," he cried.

She gave a nod to the guards, confirmed he was still on the bench, then stepped back through and let the grate slide closed again.

"Brana, listen," said Jacob. "Glennis and I, we didn't... consummate. It was a lovely night, but if Galen was worried about resonance... we didn't resonate. I mean, we... I just mean if doing things count, we didn't do that many things and I wouldn't want to lose my chance at..."

"At doing more things?" said Brana, with a grin.

"Exactly," said Jacob.

"Well, I'll note that," said Brana. "But you should know, a lot will be decided tonight. Scaurus and the others seem free of the serum, even Colette and will be released this afternoon. The council arrives within the hour, and you will be brought before them this very evening."

"Oh," said Jacob. "Good. By the way, Glennis cured me. She somehow healed all of my sun-shock. I'm feeling better than ever."

Just then, Brana noticed something. It was a very noticeable something. A frighteningly stiff and curious one-eyed monster was desperately trying to peek out above the waistband of Jacob's trousers.

"That's good news," she said, barely able to suppress a blush. "And when you say, better than ever, does that mean... everything?"

She gave a subtle nod to the object in question.

"Oh god," muttered Jacob.

He pushed the offending monster back down... or, more downish and to the side as well as he could.

Brana did some quick mental math. This was going to be a terribly complicated day and there was a good chance that she might not get someone to Jacob at all.. If Jacob truly was recovered, according to Galen's advice, it could be dangerous to make him wait all day... and then there was the trial that night.

She turned to the guard and spoke through the grid.

"Go on and close the door," she said. "I'll be a little while yet."

As the door closed, Jacob was surprised to see her unlacing her blouse.

"Brana?" he said.

"Jacob, dear. As head of the Academy residence program, it is my sacred duty to see that all cadets are properly taken care of."

He wasn't sure what to say, but his body knew the answer it wished to give.

Her blouse was gone and she was soon stepping out of her skirt and undergarments.

"Jacob?" she chimed. "Jacob, love, where are you?"

Jacob realized in the lusty rush, his gift had kicked in on its own. He kicked off his own clothes as he took in Brana's exquisite beauty.

"Jacob," she said, laughing. "I need to point out that I have a very busy day. I'm certainly honored to help out. You'll not hear this sort of thing from a woman very often but I would have no objection to this being fast. Oh!"

She suddenly felt herself lifted off the ground and her mouth meeting hungry invisible lips crushed to hers.

"Oh!" she cried again as she was heaved higher and two hands reached down to support her thighs.

"That's it, Jacob," she moaned.

She reached down a hand to guide him quickly into her. The whole thing had come as a surprise, so she did not have much natural lubrication prepared. She sighed at the contrasting feeling of his long cock pushing its way slowly into her; her pussy reluctantly giving way to him. Yet, with the final plunge she was growing more than wet and she thrilled at his strength as he began lifting her up and down his shaft vigorously.

She continued kissing the invisible young man lustily as she bounced up and down upon him for perhaps a minute. Soon, however, she felt a shift in his body and he started to slow down.

"Don't stop," she urged him. "Remember, quick is acceptable in this instance.

He renewed his pace and moaned loudly just before stopping several thrusts later.

Brana buried her head in his invisible neck as a shocking burst of heat filled her inside.

"That's it, Jacob," she growled into his ear. "Don't stop. Welcome back, young stallion."

* * * *

Frederique was insatiable.

Galen had thought they had made love for their final time in advance of Palo and Colette's return, but Frederique had cornered him in the library when he was reading and ancient play by his old friend Terrence. He had been sitting in a leather chair, fully engrossed in the drama, and the next thing he knew she had him buried entirely in her throat. They were soon floating haphazardly through the mansion as he took her from every possible angle.

As he drew close, she wrapped herself around him and kissed him deeply.

"Once more, Galen. Do it once more before we part. You know what I mean."

Galen acquiesced and reached out with his senses. It was a trick he had learned long ago that even he couldn't quite explain. When buried deeply in a woman, he could establish a more intense connection through the nerves in his penis and her labia. It was almost like he was massaging the Affliction and it responded by sending a burst of satisfied pleasure to the area in question.

Today was extra intense. They both cried out in ecstasy and Galen found his mind drawn deeply into Frederique's body.

This happened now and again. In the height of ecstasy, it was almost as if he was floating among the cells in Frederique's body. He could see her cells and the marks they bore from her parents, whom he had known and loved dearly. He could also see the Afflicted cells marked by her bloodmate Palo. He found it pleasing to see how healthy their bond was. He could also see her flight cells and marveled at how naturally they merged with her human cells. For her, flight was as natural as it was to a falcon. And finally, there was a trace of...

Galen's eyes suddenly popped open. His orgasm subsided quickly and he waited patiently as Frederique's climax rolled furiously through her body. As the paralyzing pleasure left her, she opened her eyes and saw the expression on his face.

"Galen, what's wrong?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing," he lied. "I just... I must... the report for the Council. I have to put the finishing touches on it and I just realized how the time is growing short."

"Yes, of course," she said.

Though she was concerned, she chose not to pursue it further. She lowered them to the ground and gave him a tender kiss on the cheek. He clumsily returned her affection then wandered off to his temporary lab, muttering to himself.

* * * *

The guards outside of Aimée's quarters couldn't help but smile at the beautiful blond girl who had approached them.

"I wish to visit with the girl Aimée," said the girl.

Though it was counter to their orders, they saw no reason not to allow the girl inside.

Aimée looked up at the sound of the door opening. It seemed early. Brana had told her they would be coming to get her as evening drew on, yet it was barely noon. She watched the door open and eyed the lovely, otherworldly girl let in by the guards.

"Hello, my name is Glennis," the girl said.

Glennis flashed Aimée a smile that melted her heart. Glennis leaned in and kissed the surprised Aimée tenderly on the lips. It was not a flirtation, it was a greeting. Aimée could only liken the contact to the times she had pressed her naked body against Abby's when the empath had established deepest contact with her.

However, this kiss from Glennis was not the touch of an empath. It was different, but no less intense. Aimée gasped in shock when the fair girl broke contact with her lips, yet Glennis did not let go.

Glennis lifted her hands to Aimée's face and held it gently, touching her forehead to Aimée's.

"I need to know you," said Glennis. "I don't know why, but it's important. Tell me about yourself. Tell me everything."

Aimée knew she had to comply.

"My first memory was in Morocco," started Aimée. "My mother, Frederique, was swimming with me in our underground pool..."

* * * *

It had been a very long week for Bullet. All week, confined to a dampening table. It had been discussed that she could be kept in a suite similar to Aimée's, but even one jump from the fearsome Bullet was one too many. So, she had been put on the table. It wasn't as intense or nausea inducing as a collar, but it was just as effective.

Bullet understood. She had been entirely enamored of Arnet after the dart had struck her. As the serum had grown weaker, she had accepted her fate -- if not happily, at least without complaint.

Brolly had been her 'caretaker' during the week... and he had been quite the caretaker. She'd been a little surprised at his familiarity with loving someone in bonds. He was quite adept with crops, clamps, and clothespins, among other implements The pain had actually aided in distracting her mind from Arnet. All the week, Bullet also contemplated fun was of exacting revenge on her fellow Jumper.

It certainly did her heart good to see it was Brolly who was sent to retrieve her.

"Well then, love," he said with a jaunty smile. "Madame Villepreux-Power certifies you to be one hundred percent Arnet-free, and it's a good thing, because we're to transport the Council and we need our best."

He leered at her with an appreciative eye. For the entire week, she had been bound, nude and spread eagled on a large rack-like bed.

"Shame really," he mused. "If they'd have let me come an hour earlier, I would have had you once more."

"We'll have other times," she said, flashing him a rare smile.

"Yes, I suppose we will," he agreed.

He leaned down with a curious, wild look in his eyes and kissed her deeply. His hand reached for a nipple and pinched painfully, forcing a hiss of pleasure out of her. She was soon free and she leapt into his arms, kissing him ferociously and reveling the feeling of being free again. As she kissed him, she smiled at the pinch she felt on her 'arse' as Brolly would have said. A dizzying wave of ecstasy washed through her as she kissed him one final time before they had to work.

* * * *

Claude heard the door opening and took it deep breath. He was sure it was time to face the Council, but instead a willowy girl walked in and rushed to him.

"You are Claude?" she asked.

"I am," he said, "but..."

She grabbed him and kissed him fervently. He found he could barely breathe from the intensity. Within moments, she had his shirt off and she had removed her own. Her breasts were high globes on her chest and his breath was taken away once again by the vision of her.

"Lie down," she ordered him.

He went to his bed and did as she asked. Soon, she was atop him and they both could barely catch their breath at the intensity of the way their two systems called out to each other.

"Aimée told me this was how Abby moved things faster," explained the girl. "My name is Glennis and I need to know you."

"Why?" asked Claude. He was beyond confused.

"I don't know," she said. "But I need to know things and quickly. Tell me about yourself, all of it."

Claude began a narration of his life, his naked torso pressed against Glennis, their fingers locked together.

* * * *

Colette was holding hands firmly with Palo as the doors opened.

He tried to pull away, but she held fast.

"No," she whispered. "That's not how it is done."

So, the two of them emerged together, Palo looked sheepish but Colette wore a satisfied smile. Scaurus and Seetha had done much the same moments earlier. They had exchanged a courteous greeting with Seetha's husband Ajmal. Then Scaurus had returned to his duties and Seetha had rushed home with her husband for a proper reunion.

Frederique stood waiting, radiant and lovely. Colette led Palo to her and took his hand to place it into Frederique's. It was a formal gesture among the Afflicted, often used when spouses were separated by duty or confinement.

"Thank you, my proxy," said Frederique, hugging her tenderly.

"And thank you, my proxy," replied Colette.

"Oh, it was a pleasure, trust me," said Frederique.

"Speaking of, where is my wonderful docteur?"

"Working on a report for the council," said Frederique, apologetically. "He became rather focused this morning."

"No surprise," said Colette. "I'd be surprised if he even remembers me."

"Oh, he remembers," said Frederique.

She hugged Colette once more and whispered quietly in her ear.

"If you must know, he confessed to me he is going to apply to take you to mate very soon."

Colette pulled back in surprise and looked Frederique in the eyes to be sure.

"Truly?"

Frederique nodded.

She hugged Frederique even more fiercely as Palo watched on.

"My word," said Frederique. "I thought I was well-endowed."

She reached up and gave Colette's breasts a playful squeeze.

"I mean, I knew they were big -- but feeling them -- those are amazing. Palo, you must have had so much fun with these."

"Oh he did," admitted Colette.

Palo was still speechless from embarrassment.

Frederique gave a teasing nudge to Palo's ribs.

"Well," she said, "when we've put all of this insanity rest, I expect to get to watch first-hand what sort of fun he has. Farewell, dear woman."

* * * *

Abby heard the door and gasped at the presence that had just entered the room.

Abby had a mental trick she used to envision the mind of every person she connected with. When she'd been a child, one of her favorite toys had been a snow globe her father had made. Inside was a small log cabin and pine trees. The swirling snowy scene was one of the last images she could remember seeing with her own eyes. When she met someone, she used the same image to help symbolize that person. One example was Galen, who she visualized as having a snow globe that was half snowstorm, with an endless flurry of activity denoting Galen's infinite curiosity. The other half was placid and still, indicative of the physician's meticulous contemplative scientific side.

This girl who had just walked in, she was unlike any other mind Abby had ever encountered. The image that came to Abby was one of a small golden cottage suspended in the exact center of the globe. Around the edges of the globe swirled silver flecks at a rapid rate. In between the edge of the globe and the center floated a leaf that represented a memory. The most curious thing to Abby was that the golden cottage was shut up tightly. The doors were barred, the shutters sealed. Such beauty with such secrets was a confusing image for the empath.

"Hello," said the girl to Yusef. "I wish to speak with Abby, alone."

To Abby's surprise, Yusef agreed.

"Of course, Miss," he said in his deep voice. "I will wait right outside."

Once he left, the girl crossed to Abby.

"Hello," said the girl's voice. "My name is Glennis...

"No, it's not," said Abby in a kindly tone. "That is not your true name."

"I know," said Glennis sadly. "But I don't know what my real name might be. Do you know it?"

"I can't find it," said Abby. "It is lost somewhere in your mind."

"Can you help me find it?"

"I can try," said Abby.

It was odd, how the two young women had connected. Glennis was not an empath, Abby could tell that, but she was quite perceptive. They established a deep connection immediately and were able to speak in shorthand.

"What is worrying you?" asked Abby. "Something else, besides your name seems terribly pressing."

"I don't know that either," said Glennis. "There is something of great urgency about to happen. I don't know what it is, or to whom it will happen -- but I'm trying to discover it. Aimée, told me how you...how you shared with her."

"Of course," said Abby, understanding what Glennis was asking.

Without another word, the two of them began removing their clothing. Glennis took Abby by the hand and led her to the bed. Instinctively, Glennis laid down first and welcomed the feel of Abby's skin pressing against hers. With so many nerves touching each other, the connection was stunning. Abby nearly cried at the communion she felt with this girl. Whether Glennis was an empath or not, she had never connected with another person so naturally.

She was not Afflicted. Of that, Abby was certain. Yet, Glennis's system was surprisingly similar. There was the same vibrancy about her body, the same added awareness and heightened energy of an Afflicted. The only thing missing was the hunger. This girl had no desire for blood, nor was she driven to have a companion. It wasn't that Glennis didn't wish for intimacy. That need simply wasn't a burning necessity among her basic drives.

As Abby was examining the basic essence of Glennis, she could tell that the girl was doing the same with her. The time came for deeper inquiry, for Abby to try to use her gift to delve for the answers Glennis was hoping to find.

"What do you want to know?" asked Abby.

"Everything," whispered Glennis.

Breast to breast, hand to hand, pelvis to pelvis -- Abby touched her lips to Glennis's and both of them felt the world fall away as they became lost in and intense rapture.

Once connected, Abby saw more clearly the dual nature of Glennis. Her spirit was beautiful and overwhelming. Her ability to love seemed vast, as was her potential in regard to where she might be able to extend her senses and her mind. Yet, for all of this beauty, Glennis's heart was hiding an alarming secret.

"What aren't you telling me?" inquired Abby silently. "What aren't you telling yourself?"

"I don't know," thought Glennis, "please help me reveal it. Don't be gentle. This is important."

Abby raced back through the memories she could see in the fair girl's mind. Every place she turned seemed shrouded. It was as though any painful memory was quickly obscured. Winding her way backward through what Glennis could remember, she finally arrived at the storm.

As Glennis had once described to Galen, there were hazy images of other people like herself. There was a boat and ornate couches on the deck. Abby could make out a sail that seemed to billow without the presence of a breeze, taking the inhabitants from an ancient land to a new one. Then came the storm, but it was confusing. The rain fell and with each drop, the vision became more blurry.

"It is the storm," thought Abby. "The storm is the key to it all. What happened in the storm?"

"Nothing," said Glennis, suddenly defensive. "It was just a bad storm. They must have drowned."

"No," replied Abby, "there is more. Fight through this. Let me see what's hiding beneath."

The two of them struggled together for what felt like hours, though it was only a few minutes by the clock. At last, Glennis pulled back from their embrace. Her face was drenched with sweat and tears were rolling down her cheeks.

"I can't," she sobbed. "I don't know why, but I can't let you go there. I'm so sorry."

Abby was also crying, it would have been impossible for her not to be since she connected on an emotional level first and foremost.

"Glennis, don't be sorry," she said. "This is hard, but you're right, we need to find this out." They tried once again, but again met a solid wall which enclosed this most important of memories.

Both of them were gasping from the effort. Abby contemplated the situation and decided on a highly unorthodox plan.

"Very well Glennis," she said. "Forget about the memory. We are going to establish a deeper contact in another way. Nothing about memories, nothing about your past or your name. This is just about fun.
"How?"

"I need you to trust me," said Abby. "Just trust me and come with me on this journey."

"Very well," agreed Glennis. "What are we to...oh, my."

Abby had lowered her head, and for the first time in her life, Glennis felt the touch of lips and tongue on her nipples. It was lovely and stimulating, but...

Glennis stopped Abby, lifting her head.

"Abby," she said. "I find this nice, but I am not made that way. I like Jacob. I also found that Claude was tempting. You are not tempting. I have seen girls who do this, but I don't know if it is in me."

"It isn't in me, either," said Abby. "But that doesn't mean it can't be nice. Like I said, Glennis, trust me."

Glennis quickly found that, in her or not, she was arching her back to meet Abby's attentions. Her hands were soon seeking out the buxom redhead and their kisses were no longer chaste and sisterly, but deep and ravenous.

Abby's leg found its way between Glennis's long, smooth thighs. Glennis gasped out and unconsciously pushed against Abby's smooth flesh. Their hands touched each other feverishly. Abby's tongue worked expertly on Glennis's breasts and Glennis's fingers instinctively found the perfect pattern on Abby's clitoris

Their pace grew more rapid and intense. Glennis was the first to cry out in ecstasy as the first orgasm of her life ripped through her lithe body. Abby quickly followed, but the remarkably gifted empath had an unexpected trick up her sleeve. Somehow, even in the throes of orgasmic bliss, she was able to reach out with her mind. This reach was no gentle touch, however, it was a powerful grab and once she found the place to latch on, she did not let go. She stayed deep inside, waiting for Glennis to ride the wave of her first time. However, as soon as the last spasm left her bucking hips, Abby struck with a vengeance.

If Glennis's memories were locked in that tiny golden house that Abby envisioned, then in one move, Abby threw open the shutters and unbolted the doors. Both girls cried out in pain as the suppressed memories shot through them. There were faces and homes. There were memories, a different language and... happiness. Glennis's real name in her native tongue was musical and lovely, though scarcely pronounceable. Glennis had lived in a hidden valley in the Fair Country, wherever that might have been. The valley had been discovered and her people had departed for the new world. The voyage had gone well, and then... and then...

Glennis sat up in shock and let out a wail that seemed to rattle every stone within miles.

"It wasn't a storm," she cried. "It was tears. I was crying! They left me! My parents. My people. They set me loose. They told me it was necessary! They tied up my memories and set me loose among these people. I was just a little girl! How could they?!"

"I don't know," said Abby, weeping almost as much. "I don't understand, I truly don't." Abby held the weeping girl in her arms for well over an hour. The one thing Abby feared was that they would come to fetch her to the council before Glennis was done coming to terms with her grief.

They had time, though. Abby sensed a sudden shift in Glennis's mood as she switched from anguish to anger. She stood and began gathering her clothes.

"We should get dressed," said Glennis.

Glennis's mind was now shut off from Abby. Abby did not know why, but she followed the girl's suggestion and began donning her clothing.

When they were clothed, Glennis started taking deep breaths and began to gather her will.

"You might want to cover your ears," she advised Abby.

Abby did, but that didn't mean she couldn't hear the frightening shout that emerged from Glennis.

The word Glennis called out did not have a counterpart in a human tongue. It meant 'mother' and 'father' at the same time and could be used for both with different inflections. The way Glennis used it, it meant both. Abby knew this, because she had seen it in her memories when Glennis had shouted that same word when she was set loose on her small boat when they abandoned her as a small girl.

"Now what?" asked Abby.

"We wait," said Glennis. She sat herself down and crossed her arms, staring angrily into the air.

For several minutes nothing happened. Then, the air began to sizzle and a curious pop electrified the room. The deplaceur warnings immediately went off.

Curiously, Glennis opened herself up to Abby again and let her borrow her eyes. It seemed she felt Abby should be part of this.

Three beings were standing in the room. Two were women, just as beautiful and stately as Glennis. The third was a man who was so fair and well-featured he might have also been called beautiful, were it not for his masculine elements contrasting with the women beside him.

Abby tried to glean who these people might be. The male, she knew to be Glennis's father. With the women, the relationship was perplexing. Both women seemed to have a claim to Glennis in some sort of mother role, and neither one was adoptive. Abby wished she could decipher the relationship further, but Glennis's mind was also unclear in that area, and the others' minds were thoroughly blocked.

"Hello daughter," said the man. "This is earlier than we expected."

"Silence that noise," said one of the women.

The other gave a small gesture of her hand and the noise of the deplaceur alarm stopped.

"What do you mean, earlier?" asked Glennis.

"We anticipated your mind would rouse when you reached full maturity," said the first woman. "The only other way you would have... oh."

She looked at Abby and surmised the situation quickly.

"Surprising, I would say," said the other woman. "But not unexpected among her kind. We're surprised to find you with them. We'd started to believe you would always live with mortals."

"Why?" asked Glennis, angrily. "Why would you leave a little girl to live anywhere other than with her own people?"

Glennis's parents showed no emotion at her question.

"Because it was foretold," said the father. "It was written in the stars that you should walk apart from us while you grew. "

"I would have erased the stars," said Glennis between gritted teeth. "Before I would have left a child to fend for herself I would have wiped the sky clean."

"Go gently with your emotions, dear," said the slightly taller woman. "We understand that you might be a bit upset, but don't let your time among the savages sway your manners."

"That's all I know," said Glennis through gritted teeth. "I hope you'll forgive me."

The door began to open and the man held up a steadying hand. The door quickly pushed shut again and it was clear it would not move again until he allowed it. Pounding could be heard from the other side of the door, and Yusef's voice kept calling for Abby.

"We can discuss this all in good time," said the man. "Now, it is time for you to return with us."

"Why?"

"So you can be with your people again, of course," said the shorter woman. "Now come along."

"But I have friends here," objected Glennis.

"Please, don't be tedious," said the taller woman. "We will go. Now."

The air sizzled once more... and they were gone. The three fair people, as well as Glennis.

Abby would have mourned her departure more, but she didn't have time. As soon as they departed, the door burst open. Yusef and the guards came rushing in to find only Abby in the room.

"What's happened?" asked Yusef.

"More than you can imagine," said Abby. "I don't know if fully understand it."

A few minutes later the Council guard arrived to question her. Though the episode was perplexing, it was decided to explore it further at a later time.

A dampener was placed around Abby's neck.

It was time for the hearing.






CHAPTER 13



Claude, Abby, Aimée, and Jacob were led into the hearing room and cuffed to a chair. Each of them was collared. It was an unusual move, especially since three out of the four could be confined with simple shackles -- but this was an unusual situation. Still, to see the four young people chained to chairs and also green from nausea from the dampeners was a disheartening sight.

Palo and Frederique sat at a table near the edge of the room, having a very animated discussion.

"I can argue for them," insisted Palo.

"No, you can't," whispered Frederique.

"I have studied law all my life and practiced it for a decade before we met.

"Palo," hissed Frederique, "we are dealing with our children's lives here. If you could step into a mortal courtroom, I would wager you could win any case put before you. You probably could have gotten Napoleon acquitted. But this is an Afflicted hearing. If we are to hope for the best outcome we need someone with centuries of experience -- and here she comes."

A stately woman with an elegant bearing entered the room. She did not try to make a grand entrance, in fact her head was down and she scarcely paid notice to anyone in the room as she crossed to their table. Yet everyone noticed her and the room grew quiet as every head turned in her direction.

She placed a stack of books and notes on the table and then turned to smile at Frederique.

"Hello dear," she said. "It has been too long."

"Hypatia!" said Frederique. "I am honored that you would offer your assistance."

"Oh my dear, I was one of thirty Advocates who was ready to help you," said the woman.

"Hypatia, I want you to meet my new mate, Palo."

"Charmed, Palo."

"Pleasure to meet you," said Palo. "You were named for a great scholar."

"Oh, he is new," said Hypatia with an amused smile.

"Palo," said Frederique. "This is the Hypatia, the scholar of Alexandria."

"Imposssible," said Palo -- though he didn't seem terribly sure of himself. "Hypatia was killed by an angry mob in the year 397."

"Yes, I was," said Hypatia. "And that was a devilishly hard thing to stage."

Before Paulo could say any more, Hypatia turned to notice the four youths and the room suddenly shook with her angry yell.

"No!" she cried. "Who the hell ordered that these children be collared?"

The head guard crossed over to Hypatia apologetically, speaking in hushed tones.

"Honorable Hypatia, it was the Council's orders that they..."

"It was not the Council' orders that they be publicly tortured and humiliated. This is a mate hearing, not a fucking trial."

"But..."

"You will unlock those collars on each of the three," she commanded.

"But..."

"You will remove the dampeners," she said in a tone that was not to be ignored. "Further, you will escort them out to a private room until the Council is here. You will also find a better arrangement for the empath."

"There isn't one."

"Oh no? There's Franz. Come here Franz!" she called.

The inventor came scurrying over to Hypatia and kissed her hand affectionately.

"Franz," she said. "Can you rig up a field here? One you suspend above her so she can hear and speak without being nauseous, but she cannot influence anyone else in the room?"

"Yes, I believe I could," said Franz.

"Good, do that."

Franz hurried off for his equipment, but the head guard remained standing where he was -- paralyzed by indecision.

"Well?" she said to him.

"Great lady, we have very specific orders, and..."

"Listen to me," she said in a tone that was dripping with venom. "This is the most important day of their lives. Decisions surrounding their very fate will be made. They will not have those decisions made under barbaric duress. They will not be subjected to answering questions with their stomachs turning and their senses addled. If they are, I will see to it there is a trial and you will be the first person prosecuted. Now go!"

The guard hurried to follow her orders, taking the four out of the room once again. Hypatia sat back down and began reviewing her notes.

"Do you still want the job?" whispered Frederique to Palo.

He held up his hands in a no-way' sort of gesture and they both waited silently as Hypatia looked over documents and took notes as she read. Once she was finished, she picked up her notepad and a sheaf of papers. With a nod of her head, she gestured for Palo and Frederique to follow her. She led them to an antechamber, looked about to be sure they were alone.

"Here is the good news," she said. "You've drawn a good trio for the panel."

"Who are they?" asked Frederique.

"Angelina di Bicci," said Hypatia.

"I don't know her," said Frederique.

"She's part of the Medici clan," said the ancient scholar. "Like any of them that we've recruited, she has a great ability to be impartial but fair. I've met her a few times and I certainly don't mind having her here. Next we have Peregrine O'Duignan."

"Damn," hissed Frederique. She explained to Palo. "He is an Irish scholar, but he was also on Christophe's trial. He was the deciding factor in saving Christophe when they discovered how powerful he was. That's not a good thing. He most likely still holds himself partially responsible."

"Yes," said Hypatia. "He will definitely be our glass-half-full representative."

"Why isn't it the whole council?" asked Palo. "Why only three of them?"

"To avoid games," explained Hypatia. "In the seventh and eighth centuries the entire Council of Twelve was brought into all major decisions regarding mates. Suddenly it became the College of Cardinals selecting a Pope. Back then, with every mate selection everyone was maneuvering, trying to align families for more wealth or power. Now it is just three. They aren't selected until day of the event, and they are forbidden from speaking with any other members of the Council until the selection."

"Who is the third?" asked Frederique.

"Patroclus," said Hypatia.

The name carried great weight with Frederique.

"He's back on the Council?" she asked in wonder.

"Yes, he found a new mate four decades ago and seems greatly revitalized."

"Who is Patroclus?" asked Palo.

"He is among the first-bitten," said Frederique. "Along with Galen, Patroclus is widely credited to be the reason we are still here. It was his wisdom and leadership that saw us through some of our darkest times. He is wise and just, but he can also be ruthless. With almost two thousand years on this earth, he makes his decisions for our overall good... and bases them on nothing else."

"How will he lean?" asked Palo.

"You can never tell with Patroclus," said Hypatia. "He was almost my first mate, so that gives you an idea of how long I've known him. Yet, I still can't second-guess him. That said, if I was going to guess where these three will go, here are my thoughts:"

"I suspect that Galen will recommend that the siblings cross families and mate with each other. Claude with Abby, Jacob with Aimée. I've seen his preliminary reports and he feels they will be a strong match Affliction-wise. I'm giving Galen's recommendation a forty percent chance. "

"Next is the possibility of the siblings blooding each other. Galen did not dismiss it, but obviously spoke against them having children. Such a thing is not unheard of. I can list twenty sibling pairs off the top of my head. I would give Claude being mated with Aimée, and Jacob with Abby a thirty a thirty percent chance."

"Next possibility is that the Council simply chooses among the many other candidates that Galen, Villepreux-Power, and Pasteur have cleared. That could easily happen and I would put that at a twenty-five percent possibility."

"That leaves five," said Palo.

"Yes, five percent -- unknown," said Hypatia. And it is just that, unknown. "

They sat in silence for the next several minutes. A great deal more noise could be heard in the assembly hall and they glanced out to see quite a throng beginning to form.

"Hypatia," said Frederique, "one more thing. Is there a sealed sheet?"

Her silence was the only answer Frederique needed.

"I've read of it," said Palo. "But what exactly is a sealed sheet?"

"It is a potential time-bomb," said Frederique. "If Galen finds something that he deems a significant risk with an unmated youth, he writes a report and makes four copies. One for himself, and one for each of the three."

Hypatia picked up the thought. "Now, it isn't something blatant like young Abby's power. That is a known risk. A sealed sheet is a potential risk. It is up to the three to decide on whether it is worthy of debate. If they view it as unimportant, the sheets are destroyed, all of them. If and when the candidate takes another mate, Galen, or whoever is screening at that time, may choose to re-enter the criteria.

"What could he have found?" asked Palo. "Frederique, you were with him this past week. Did you ask?"

"Oh no, Palo," said Frederique. "There is an expression among our kind -- 'safer than Galen's secrets'. When it comes to matters of bloodmates, there is nothing more sacred to him."

Soon it was time. They entered the room and another hush fell. Partially, because it was the first time many of those gathered had seen the legendary Frederique. With a mere glance, she was able to communicate to the crowd that this wasn't about her, and she would brook no applause.

Five minutes later, a whistled sounded. Abby, Aimée, Claude, and Jacob were lead into to the assembly hall. Frederique was pleased to see several younger people giving them signs of encouragement from the separate Cadet section. Surely these were her children's friends. She had not had the opportunity to speak enough with Claude and Aimée to know it was Oppo and Jackie leading the student delegation of support.

Frederique looked around and saw many, many old friends. She dearly wished to reunite with all of them, but another whistle sounded and the entire room stood.

The seats for the three were at the terminus of three separate parallel hallways. The rules were so strict that the three Council members weren't even allowed to see each other during the hearing. Each dais where they sat was set back into each hallway. Behind each Council member was a deplaceur ready to pop the Council member out in case of any emergency. Brolly stood behind Patroclus, Bullet behind Angelina, and Leonora, the beautiful brunette, stood behind Peregrine.

Patroclus was seated in the center dais. He rapped a gavel and called the event to order.

"Very well then," he said. "Today we meet to discuss the mate selection of Jacob and Abby Lamont, two of the strongest gifted Cadets we have ever seen, as well as Claude and Aimée Dujobe, children of Palo Dujobe and our beloved Frederique who has rejoined our ranks.

The murmurs raced through the room and Patroclus allowed it patiently before rapping his gavel again.

"There you go," he said. "Get it out of your systems, because if I hear another word I will clear the hall and have any talkative offenders arrested, maybe even sent out in the sun for a little while."

There was a bit of nervous laughter, no one being sure exactly how serious Patroclus was with his threat.

"For those unfamiliar with hearings surrounding a mate selection, and also for our four young people here" said Patroclus, "We will give a brief outline of the reasoning behind this event."

"In the early days, our numbers grew rapidly. However, after even a century, we realized the implications of long life, unusual powers, and an aversion to daylight meant we needed to be selective with our members and their mates."

"With the assistance of Galen," continued Angelina, "we have evolved the process down to a very reliable science. The one thing I want to point out, however, is this is a sacred and beloved time. It is our deepest regret that due to the extraordinary nature of your gifts and your unusual sibling circumstance, that this resembles a trial. More often, the mate selection takes place in more comfortable surroundings."
"I will add," said Peregrine, picking up the narrative, "that it is your own actions that have necessitated the security around this event. Lastly, mate selection is always public. In the huge mass of humanity, we are a tiny and distinct populace. As you step into becoming a full member of the community, you must understand that you will be with us for a very long time. We welcome you to our family, but we also wish to make sure you are set down the correct path with the proper mate."

"So, we begin," said Patroclus, simply. "Galen, we were given your report this morning. We would like to hear from you directly."

Galen stood and the gathered crowd room grew even more silent, if that was possible. Galen was taking this very seriously. There was clearly a weight on his shoulders from the burden.

"These are strong candidates," he said. "Good lineage and exceptional gifts. I will add that the addition of Palo to our kind, though he was not my selection, was an excellent choice. His body and mind are strong and promising, and he has taken to the Affliction well. As such, the children of Palo and the Frederique are fine specimens. As for Jacob and Abby, we all miss their parents deeply. They were two quiet, but radiant stars of our kind. We can only give thanks that Jacob was not also taken from us by Arnet, son of Jacinto, who we now know to be their leader."

"Theirs is a complicated case, however," explained Galen. "It was complicated by the unusual and tragic situation that led to Abby and Jacob's isolation. It was also complicated by the horrible choice of the Council to transport the Dujobes by sea when Claude and Aimée were so close to awakening. I can't remember many decisions as poor as that one, and I have been around long enough to see many poor decisions."

"We thank you, Galen," said Peregrine. "Consider us formally chastised, and please do accept our apologies."

Galen gave a wry smile and continued.

"I must say that the intimacy among the children greatly complicated my analysis. It complicated things because of the startling resonance they all established. This made it dreadfully hard to remain objective. My first instinct, of course, was to negate them all as candidates for each other. However, once I stepped back, I saw many strong arguments for them becoming mates. You see, when I select a mate I must evaluate what traits will be reinforced by each other's Affliction."

"To illustrate, years ago there was an Afflicted girl who was current-adept. Much in the manner of certain aquatic animals like the electric eel, she could generate a significant shock. The council thought, and without my objection mind you, that she would be well-mated with a young man who was a conductor. He had been struck by lightning several times and could let it pass through his body easily. Together, they made a remarkable team in battle. However, we did not anticipate the activities of the cells they exchanged. What happened was a slow build up resistance and those cells began to do battle in their nervous systems, the girl especially. In hindsight, I should have seen it, but it was too late. I was able to minimize the effect, but the girl lived a mere one hundred and fifty years, wasting slowly away as her nerves degraded from the build-up of current. This is the sort of thing we must anticipate and avoid."

"That said, I can see nothing in these young people that represents a threat to each other. As you will see in my report, I recommend that they marry opposite, Claude with Abby and Aimée with Jacob. Their systems will mesh well, and should they opt for children in a century or two, I think their offspring would be both gifted and balanced in their powers."

"I also think, emotionally, that their personalities would benefit. Claude is a solid type and his essence would give Abby a dose of impartiality that would help to temper the unusual burden she bears from feeling the emotions of everyone around her. Aimée and Jacob are also a good match. I know this might sound odd, but they are both more impetuous in their makeup. I have found, time and again, that two such personalities will usually be calmer after the blood ritual."

"That is all good to hear," said Peregrine. "We are pleased to hear that their union would not be detrimental to themselves. But what of the Afflicted? Could we expect an even greater threat from Abby, the empath, after she mates with young Claude here and her gifts invariably strengthen even more?"

Galen contemplated this and gathered himself. "As you will find in my notes, I do not feel Abby is a threat. By her very empathy, she would be averse to committing harm because she would feel that pain as well..."

"But..." said Peregrine trying to interrupt.

"I will finish," said Galen, raising a hand. "I am not interested in the argument of how someone might be used as a weapon should they be taken by Arnet. My argument, even in this specific instance, is that we might well have people who are under Arnet's influence in this every room. Abby is the only one of our kind who might easily detect their presence, so the blade cuts both ways. As to what Abby might gain from Claude, it could possibly be flight -- but my experience says it would more likely be an ability to extend her gift the way a flier might. She might be able to touch a companion and allow them a limited ability to connect with others on an emotional level. Claude would likely become an unstoppable fighter in the air, able to anticipate his opponents every move much like Abby does on the ground. In short, I find the logic of the council fallible at best when arguing what might happen with someone as strong as Abby. I would remind you that the failure of Christophe in the last great conflict was not his failure, but a result of the failure of a deplaceur who failed to follow orders."

A murmur surged through the room at that and Patroclus allowed it. There were few who could chastise the Council so blatantly, but if Galen did so, he had good reason and his reputation was unassailable.

"Duly noted," said Patroclus. "Now, what of the other two?"

"Invisibility is tricky," said Galen. "I do not see the ability being passed to Aimée if she were Jacob's mate. I would suspect she might gain the ability to be a bit more quiet in her jumps -- which Bullet informs me is still an obstacle. She might gain a good bit of stealth, as well. For Jacob, I am fairly certain he would gain the ability to teleport objects -- though not people -- over short distances."

Through all of this, the four had been struggling to be silent. When they had heard Galen open with the argument that they should be mates, it had been a good thing they were restrained, or else they might have leapt up in joy. Hypatia, however, had sent them a note that they were to show their best decorum in the hearing.

It did not stop them from exchanging glances, however, and Aimée couldn't help but give a blushing look to Jacob. It was surreal, yet wonderful for her to contemplate that this handsome young man would be her life mate sometime soon. Claude, too, found himself looking at Abby in an entirely different light. Abby personally was struggling, wishing she could reach out to communicate her joy to Claude at the prospect of taking the ultimate step with him.

The proceedings began to go surprisingly smoothly. The air of the room became suddenly relaxed. The three asked questions of the four, marveling at the tales they had heard, and teasing them about their amorous adventures.

"There is an ancient tale," said Patroclus. "In the story, an overprotective king locks his virginal daughter in a tower. A young man finds a magic ring that transports him there every night, where things go... very well. Leave it to two Afflicted women to bring such a fairy tale to life. I would challenge anyone here to tell me they wouldn't have done the same when they were young and newly awakened, if they had access to such powers. Now, turn off the dampener and set these four at ease."

The hearing went so far as for them to consult Hypatia on certain legal matters. Inheritance was a complicated issue among the long-lived, and the three Council members wondered how to interpret the Lamont's will, which apparently included vast land holdings and investments.

Less than an hour later, Patroclus was rapping his gavel.

"All that is left is for us to discuss our decision and make it formal," he said. "I think all of our concerns have been allayed and we can anticipate a happy outcome. I'm calling a fifteen minute recess, and for god's sake unchain these beautiful young people. They are not a threat, nor are they an escape risk, I would hope."

Patroclus, Angelina, and Peregrine rose and departed, followed as before by their mandated deplaceurs.

As the children were unchained, there wasn't a dry eye among them. Palo and Frederique, and even Hypatia, were beaming with happy tears.

"Well," said Hypatia, "I was hardly needed.

Claude scooped Abby up in his arms and she wrapped her tiny figure 'round his muscular frame as she kissed him. Jacob, too, lifted Aimée and twirled her about in a joyful embrace. Frederique was already planning the details of the mating ceremony and the four even began discussing where they might live.

Frederique looked about at all of her friends and nodded to many of them, exchanging joyful smiles.

Then, a three-note, staccato whistle blew and Hypatia looked up in alarm. It was the caution notes, not the regular call which signaled reconvening.

Abby, more than anyone, detected the shift in the room. Four guards approached, with dampening collars, and pulled the children roughly back to the seats. Each guard remained behind each youth.

Abby had been so overwhelmed with the joyous news that she had scarcely noticed the crowd around. Now, she began scanning the minds. She felt something amiss, but couldn't quite place it. Too late, the collar was locked around her neck and they were once again shackled to the chairs. She could not dig any deeper into what was bothering her.

The three returned, and their demeanor was radically changed. Patroclus no longer seemed kindly; Angelina was wearing a frown, and Peregrine appeared outright angry.

"We have decided we need to investigate a few things further," said Peregrine. "And what we have to discuss is in relation to this."

He held up a canary-yellow envelope and a gasp went through the crowd.

"The sealed sheet," was the whisper that went through the crowd. "

"This is ridiculous," cried Hypatia, leaping to her feet.

Galen himself and risen in surprise.

"You made no mention of this, before," said Hypatia. "Why now?"

Peregrine looked on them all with a haughty expression. "That is the purpose of the deliberations, to discuss. We discussed the situation and arrived at some startling conclusions. I will read now."

He blew on the end of the envelope to open it again and removed the sealed sheet.

"I must object," said Galen. "What I wrote there is conjecture only, and the chances are miniscule."

"Yes, so you mention on the sheet," said Peregrine. "Yet you did feel the need to point it out, so we've decided to discuss it."

Peregrine unfolded the sheet and began to read.

"I'll just skip to the important parts," he said. Galen, you wrote, "It should perhaps be noted that there have been rare instances when a gift is passed on from a prior bloodmate to an unrelated child. I have found in Frederique strong concentrations of cells from Christophe, the clockmaker. Just as a mother's blood mixes with the child in the womb, so do the Afflicted cells she carries. There is a small chance, perhaps one in ten thousand, that when Claude Dujobe or Aimée Dujobe mate, especially with someone with strong gifts, that they will also acquire the clockmaker's gift."

There was an uncomfortable shuffling and stirring in the room, but Frederique could not turn - so frozen was she by the findings.

"I want you to listen carefully to those words," cried Galen, who sat alone to the side. "Small chance. One in ten-thousand."

"Yet, the chance is there," argued Patroclus. "None of us here needs to be reminded what someone with the clockmaker's gift can accomplish."

"We have, therefore," continued Angelina, "revised our findings and we have a new decision."

Frederique cried angry tears and turned to see the crowd. Save for the Cadets who seemed just as shocked as she was, there was not a sympathetic eye to be found.

How quickly they can turn, she mused.

Peregrine reached into a notebook and pulled out a carefully written piece of paper.

"Our new findings are thus," he said. "Because of the clear and present threat represented to the Afflicted by the four disobedient youths, and further because of the threat they represent to our kind, we have made the following decisions in regard to their future."

"Claude Dujobe, Aimée Dujobe, and Jacob Lamont each pose a significant future threat to our kind. The Dujobes because they carry the clockmaker's gift, Jacob because he shares the same blood as his sister. It is our recommendation that all three be mated with mortals of average intelligence, so their gifts might not be strengthened; only diluted. It is further recommended that they, and any mates they take, be sterilized."

"What!" cried Palo leaping not only to his feet, but onto the table. Claude and Jacob also tried to rise.

"Mr. Dujobe, you will be seated," said Patroclus.

"Wait," cried Abby. "It all makes sense. Look at their eyes! It's..."

She was not able to finish, her guard had gagged her with a length of silk cloth.

"Thank you, guard," said Patroclus. "Peregrine, continue."

"Thank you, Patroclus," said the Irishman. "As for the empath, Abigail Lamont, experience has shown that no person with such gifts should be allowed. It is therefore the recommendation of the council that she be terminated, as soon as possible."

"No!" shouted Hypatia.

She slammed her notebook down on the table in front of Frederique and marched to face the three of the Council.

"These are not your decisions to make," she said with flashing eyes. "You are here to make decisions in regard to their mates. Decisions beyond that are to be put before the full council, the laws are quite clear."

At the same moment, Palo looked down at the notebook Hypatia had seemingly thrown down in anger. He quietly drew Frederique's attention to the page -- on which were written the words:

FIGHT

FREE

FLEE.

Frederique nodded in agreement. They gathered themselves, getting ready to spring.

"Yes" said Peregrine, "there are laws, but you'll also note that special councils are allowed to make exceptional decisions in times of conflict. If the threat of Arnet is not an exceptional circumstance, what is?"

"It is still beyond your scope," insisted Hypatia. "You can have them locked away until another time. You can have them collared, but you cannot make such decisions, you don't have the authority."

"But we have, and we will," said Patroclus. "Abby Lamont shall be first. Guards, remove her for immediate execution."

Abby was so stunned, she couldn't even protest through the gag.

Then came hope.

She heard a small click and instantly became aware of everyone around her. Her collar had been unlocked, instantly disabling the dampener. She saw the surprised looks of her friends as they also felt the unnerving field around them disappear. Next, came a tiny click around her wrists. She felt her shackles start to fall and quickly grasped them.

Abby searched the minds of the room in an instant flash. Her first suspicion was confirmed, the entire room, save the Cadets, had been bound to Arnet. As for who had released their collars, she had a few suspicions but could not detect the mind who had done the miraculous deed.

The others also grasped their shackles and they thought they might not be detected. However, Aimée's wrist-irons fell too rapidly from her narrow wrists and went clanging to the floor.

It was a moment that lasted for an eternity. All of the room paused upon realizing the implications of Aimée's bonds being released with no one near.

"Take me last!" rang Abby's voice in Aimée's head.

There were several bursts of vision.

First, Palo and Hypatia disappeared.

Then the room seemed to stop.

Next, Claude, Jacob and Frederique were gone.

The world stopped again.

Back into action, Scaurus disappeared along with the Jeanne Villepreux-Power.

Another freeze.

Next, Brana and the Cadets were gone.

The world stopped again, and now Brolly was standing next to Abby, reaching out for her. At the same moment, Brolly tugged at Abby's right arm and Aimée tugged at her left.

Time resumed again, and the world was treated to the rare sight of a deplaceurs battle. Aimée winked out and back in again elsewhere, then out and in again -- popping in and out with stunning rapidity, Brolly always appearing in the spots where Aimée had just been.

Bullet and Leonora crouched at the edge of the room, ready to leap into the fray, but like someone trying to jump into a skipping rope in motion, they had to take care to find the right opening.

In and out Brolly and Aimée and popped, Aimée always one flash ahead of the English jumper.

Finally, as it appeared to all watching, Brolly found an opening. Aimée had materialized at the edge of the room and was facing away from him. He popped in and grabbed her triumphantly.

"Let go of me!" cried the woman.

"I don't think... so..." said Brolly. It suddenly occurred to him that the voice speaking was not Aimée's. His head clearing, he suddenly realized he had hold of Angelina. Abby had tricked his mind.

"No!" he cried. "Bullet!"

Aimée was standing by Abby, holding her arm.

Bullet was already in motion, lunging forward with blade in hand as she winked out.

She rematerialized in front of Aimée and Abby, striding toward Aimée. The two girls popped out of sight as her lunge continued through where they had been.

Angrily, she looked to her short blade and saw blood upon it. Bullet smiled a grim smile and disappeared, hoping the young deplaceur had chosen a familiar location to escape to.

Patroclus cursed when he saw that Abby was gone. Peregrine and Brolly strolled to his side.

"The master won't be happy," said Peregrine.

"No," said Brolly. "The one person he wanted was the empath. He feels she is the key to it all."

"We'll find her," said Leonora.

"Yes, you will," said a thin voice from the entrance.

The entire room turned as one, and kneeled on one knee before the short figure in the silk cape.

Arnet walked in, flanked by recently 'turned' Afflicted group on one side, and a mortal group under the influence of his serum, God's Strength, on the other.

"The empath?" he asked.

"Gone," said Brolly. "We're sorry, master."

"Frederique?" asked Arnet, his voice rising higher.

"Also gone," said Patroclus.

"Her children?" asked Arnet, the anger boiling in his voice.

"Also escaped," said Peregrine. "But we think her daughter, at least, may have been injured."

"Well," said Arnet. "I think you could have done better. Don't get me wrong, though. Brolly, I'm very pleased with you. You're reputation bears up."

"It was a stroke of genius, I must say, master," said Patroclus. "Infecting our top deplaceur guaranteed you the greatest access."

"And of course, I quickly enlisted our other best deplaceur," said Brolly. "From there, things have fallen rapidly into place."

"Reykjavik?" asked Arnet.

"Surprisingly easy," said another deplaceur walking in. "Those darts are sheer magic."
"Tell me, did my plan work for the assembly hall?" asked Arnet.

"Like clockwork," said Angelina. "We were able to watch it from where we sat. The advanced guard injected the back row. Within seconds they had seen the light. They took a syringe and injected those in front of them, and so on. It was less than a minute for the whole room."

"Besides those we've spoken of, the only people we are missing are some cadets, Scaurus and Galen, and of course those we've mentioned," said Peregrine.

"Oh, that's all," said Arnet. "The greatest mind in the world, your head general, the empath, and the woman who defeated my father."

He smacked Peregrine across the face. The great scholar who had lived to see a quarter of a millennium cowered at Arnet's feet like a dog.

"I'm sorry, Master. We will find them, I promise."

* * * *

Abby and Aimée reappeared at the side of a lovely underground swimming pool.

"Well done, Aimée!" cried Abby.

Her joy was cut instantly short, however, upon feeling the crippling pain and shock emanating from her friend. Aimée's breathing was heavily labored. There was massive pain in her chest.

"Aimée!" cried Abby.

"Warn them!" rasped Aimée. "Warn them first. Do it!"

Abby understood and gathered her strength.

She reached out to everyone she knew. She also touched those with whom she was intimately connected, her other three, and through them, she called out to every possible individual that they were connected to.

It wasn't words, but images. There was no time for words. The images were simple: Arnet; a syringe-like dart; a generic face with a blank, adoring expression; and a sword. The message was remarkably clear.

Abby gripped Aimée fiercely and sent a face to her.

"Take us now," she begged her friend through tears. "Take us to Galen before you are too weak"

Aimée tried to follow the trail of Abby's mind to the physician, but she could not get a fix.

"Damn it!" cried Abby, "Where the hell are you Galen?"

Abby concentrated again, this time on Villepreux-Power and this time they were gone, the beloved pool of Aimée's childhood home lay empty and lonely once more, a spot of blood on the deck.

* * * *

Frederique's pupils widened to adjust to the darkness.

"Where the hell?" she whispered.

"Who's there?" said another voice. She believed it belong to Jacob.

"Mother? Jacob?," said Claude's voice.

Her eyes now adjusted, she saw a lantern on a small table with matches beside it.

She lit the lantern and they took stock of their surroundings. It appeared to be some sort of makeshift office in a mine. The walls were rough-hewn and there was a lot of dust with just a few footprints other than theirs that appeared to be a week or two old.

"How did..." started Claude, but he never finished his thought. Both Claude and Jacob's eyes suddenly went blank.

Frederique's mind was flooded with the four images, coming from Claude. Arnet, syringe, enslaved, fight. Almost instantly after that, she received the same images from Aimée, though from very far away.

"Good girl," mused Frederique, realizing it was Abby.

"What should..."

"Come on," she said, picking up the lantern. "We need to leave. If Aimée knows this place, she was most likely introduced to it by another deplaceur. Come."

Cracks of the sun appeared through the front door. She led the boys to the rear door which opened into the mine beyond. She gratefully saw an insulated emergency kit on a shelf, complete with blood and rations. Remembering their footprints, she gathered her will. With her gesture, a breeze swept through the chamber, swirling the floor and tables clean.

Perhaps a minute after the door shut, there was a gentle pop in the room. Bullet, on the hunt, looked around quickly and popped back out again, on to the next location.

* * * *

Scaurus, Palo, and Hypatia looked around. It appeared to be a wine cellar.

"Look around!" cried Scaurus. "There's bound to be a passage out of here, or at least a hiding place."

They started to search. Palo and Scaurus paused as the images passed to them and through them.

"Good girl," murmured Scaurus as he continued his search. "Be on the ready Palo, Hypatia. We've got less than a minute if I guess correctly."

Both of the warriors cursed the lack of weapons. None were ever allowed into Council events and since Aimée had deplaced them away, they'd had no chance to gather any arms.

"Here," cried Hypatia. "Quickly!"

It was a narrow spot behind wine shelf. In the wall was a door which was locked.

Scaurus moved behind the shelf first and examined the lock.

"There's a key here somewhere," he whispered, "but we don't have time to find it. Get back here quickly."

The three of them squeezed behind the shelves and Hypatia found herself sandwiched between the two men.

"My my," she whispered. "Wedged between two handsome warriors. I haven't found myself in a situation like this since I got caught in the middle of a Suileiman campaign in Belgrade."

"Quiet," whispered Scaurus. "Any moment now."

His prediction was correct, as a quiet pop shook the room. Peering between the bottles, they saw Leonora looking about carefully. She searched for perhaps two minutes before deplacing to the next location.

"They'll do a rapid sweep first," explained Scaurus once she was gone. "Later, they'll be more thorough, but hopefully we'll be long gone by then."

They searched the room and it was Hypatia who found the key to the passage, hidden within a false bottle in the racks.

They opened the door and were pleased to find it didn't lead to a simple room, but to a long tiled passageway.

"Hold on," said Palo. "I recognize these patterns in the tiles."

"What do they mean?" asked Hypatia.

"Follow me," he urged. "I believe they mean we will soon be hiding in a place of great comfort."

Palo was flying away before he even finished his sentence and Scaurus had Hypatia's hand in his and they were soon following.

* * * *

Brana sat atop Oppo as he raced them through the passageways of below. He flew at a breakneck pace, but she was too worried about the others to be concerned for her own safety.

Aimée had whisked them back to the West dorm. It had been a tricky bit of jumping. Abby had been immobilizing everyone in the assembly hall, and had needed to stop momentarily to give Aimée a fix on Vickie. Yet, she had done so successfully and Brana had slammed down the security gates with only seconds to spare.

Wisdom said that Brana should have barricaded herself in with the Cadets of the West Dorm, but all Cadets were her charges and she would do anything in her power to see they were protected. She had fired the wall-mounted rifles around the entrance and she and Oppo had escaped through a split second opening in the gate. That they were being pursued was doubtless, but if she was to be with any flier, Oppo was the one.

Her heart fell when the turned the corner near the entrance to the other dorm. Bodies were strewn everywhere. Peering about, she was both heartened and devastated to see the bodies of three cadets lying among the carnage. Losing even one was too many. Still, it could have been much worse.

"Brana!" cried a hoarse whisper from a speaking tube mounted in the door.

"It's me!" she cried. "Please tell me the rest of you are all right."

"In a way," said the voice which she now recognized as that belonging to Anders.

"Hurry and let us in," said Brana.

"First tell me that you hate Arnet."

"What?"

"Go on, say it," said Anders.

"Of course I do," said Brana. "He's a villain of the highest order and I pray I'm the one who plunges the dagger into his chest. But what's that got to do with it."

The door clicked open and they were pulled rapidly inside.

"That's how we caught Lissa, there," said Anders once the door was closed. "She bluffed her way in but when we started cursing Arnet's name, Lissa went mental. Once we had her restrained we found a packet of darts in her pouch. They can't say a thing, or hear a bad thing said about their beloved leader, the bastard."

The restrained and gagged Lissa kicked angrily at the sound, as did another girl and two boys who were also tied up nearby.

"That's right, I said it," said Anders with a grin. "Bastard. Arnet is a slimy, pathetic, weaselly bastard."

The captives struggled some more and Brana was actually frightened by the hatred in their eyes.

"Anders, gently," she said. "It's not their fault. What to do with them, though. Hmm, flier, flier, flier, and shrinker. No unusual risks, carry them and follow me."

The other cadets bore up their restrained friends and followed Brana into the sleeping room area.

"We can't lock them up alone," she explained. "They are already half mad from Arnet's contamination. The last thing we would want to do is drive them the rest of the way mad from abstinence. So, Lissa with Pyotr and Imani with John."

The students were placed in their respective rooms and held with crossbows pointed at them before the doors closed.

With a resounding 'thud' the doors shut. The sound was even more final when Brana inserted a special key and turned it -- triggering a locking mechanism within that was unbreakable.

"These were designed for both scenarios," explained Brana. "That room is now impregnable. Food and blood will arrive for them via pneumatic tubes for the next ninety days. If I haven't unlocked it by then, the doors will reopen and they'll be left to their own devices."

Brana turned matter-of-factly to the other cadets. "For your own safety, you will also be locked in rooms. Or, to put it another way, I will be locking others out."

"But Brana..." Oppo started to complain.

"It is protocol," she said, cutting him off. "In times of strife, such as the Jacinto crisis, cadets are to be secured within dormitory units for their own safety. The statute even references the father of our current threat. We'll be travelling soon to bring the others here -- it is the more secure of the two dorms and I can't flit back and forth between them in this climate."

Oppo contemplated this.

"Brana, you can bring the other cadets here," he said. "But you won't be locking us away for our safety. We'll be fighting, and there's nothing you can do about it.

* * * *

Jeanne Villepreux-Power had begun gathering supplies as soon as she received the images from Abby. She and Pasteur had been analyzing some specimens at Galen's request.

"Madame, hurry!" cried Abby when she appeared.

Aimée was slumping to the ground, held up only by her friend's arms.

Jeanne rushed to Aimée and reached out with her senses. Punctured lung, severed veins... and a nick to the heart.

"Mon dieu," she whispered.

Her first priority was the heart.

The lungs were obviously important, but wouldn't do any good if the heart stopped beating.

Working with the same efficiency as a battlefield surgeon, she reached in with her mind and began weaving a mesh of muscle across the gash in the heart's fourth chamber.

"What can I do to help?" asked Pasteur over her shoulder.

"Supplies," said Jeanne. "Medical kit, instruments, anything you can think of. We need to leave here shortly."

"Already prepared," said the old man, indicating a large doctor's satchel.

"Should we go in?" asked Pasteur. "I could repair things the old-fashioned way."

"Maybe later," explained Villepreux-Power. "But I'd rather not and we need her soon."

She continued mending the heart with her mind. It was not pretty, but her only goal for the next five minutes was to keep her alive.

"They're here," said Abby. Fifty people at least just pushed past the guards.

"I'll bar the door," said Pasteur.

Jeanne continued mending and gave a satisfied sigh as the last of her impromptu patch was completed. The heart would need more attention, but at least it would keep pumping.

"We need to go," she whispered. "Aimée. Aimée, can you find the strength to take us elsewhere?"

Aimée's eyes were half-lidded and her eyes were showing clear signs of shock.

"I'll try," she murmured.

"We can't go anywhere she knows," said Abby. "Dr. Villepreux-Power, do you have a place in your mind we could go?"

"Yes," she said.

She envisioned a spot and Abby gleaned it from her mind.

Villepreux-Power then did a last-ditch effort she had only tried twice before. Stretching out with her mind, she grasped hold of Aimée's primary glands. A sudden rush of natural adrenalin, thyroxin, and countless stimulating hormones poured into Aimée's system. Her eyes shot open and she reached out to grab hold of Abby and the French biologist. Abby, in turn, grabbed the wrist of Pasteur who had just picked up his satchel.

The room disappeared and a moment later they were looking at the floorboards of a dusty attic. A narrow beam of from a cloudy sky was slanting through a lone window at the end. Pasteur crossed to it and threw a large blanket over some convenient nails.

The attic, thankfully, had an old bed and it was covered with a cloth. They threw the cloth aside and moved Aimée to it. Pasteur quickly removed Aimée's blouse and began cleaning the wound as Jeanne continued her internal repairs.

"Louis," said Jeanne, "I'll need you to intubate the right lung, it's filling with blood. Abby, I need you to ease her pain as much as possible."

Pasteur prepared a tube and needle and sat by Aimée. He placed the needle against her ribs. Villepreux-Power placed a hand over his.

"Perhaps I should do that," she said.

"I may not be hundreds of years old like other physicians you know, Jeanne," he said, "but this is well within my abilities."

"Of course," she said apologetically.

Pasteur inserted the needle and Aimée gave a gasp of pain. Almost immediately, blood began to flow out of her lungs and into the tube which emptied into a sealed jar at the other end.

Pasteur, satisfied, went back to his kit and set about some other activities that neither of the women could pay attention to.

(It should be noted that Jeanne Villepreux-Power was, at the time, without a mate. Her initial bloodmate had been essentially a marriage of convenience to bring her into the Afflicted. They had not had great love for each other, nor animosity for that matter. The great biologist had been without a regular partner for some time, which hadn't bothered her since her first love had always been her work.)

After ten minutes of steady concentration, Jeanne leaned back, breathing a sigh of exhaustion.

"She is stable," she said. "There is much work to be done, but I need to let her rest for half an hour or so."

"Thank you, Madame," said Abby.

Abby hugged the biologist then took a clean blanket Pasteur had found in a chest and covered both she and Aimée with it. She took Aimée's hand in hers and did all she could with her own gifts to heal her dearest friend.

Madame Villepreux-Power stood up and started to look around the room. She stopped in surprise upon seeing a carefully laid out white surgical sheet on an old dressing table. Upon the sheet were two devices with which she was very familiar. She should have been, for she had helped to perfect them.

The tubing was of a material that mortal man would not see for another half a century; clear, flexible, and sterile. At each end of the tube was a needle. One only allowed fluid to pass out; the other only allowed it to pass in.

Two tubes.

The younger-looking woman turned to look at the old man, who stood near the dressing table with a shy grin on his face.

"Louis?" she gasped.

"It seems," he said, "that I have seen enough daylight. It is time that I join your kind, and I can think of no one I would rather do it with than you."

"But Louis..."

Pasteur silenced her objections.

"I can help heal the girl more quickly if I am Afflicted, and if this situation is as bad as it appears, any gift I have will give me an extra tool to help in the fight. Besides, I think we would make very good mates. What do you say Jeannie?"

"Well Louis," said Madame Villepreux-Power, "that is the most odd, unusual, and wonderful marriage proposal I have ever received. Believe it or not, in my day I have received quite a few."

"Oh, I believe it," said Pasteur. "Shall we then?"

"We shall," she agreed.

Abby had watched the entire exchange (via their eyes) and she laid back, continuing to view the events as though living in an exhausted dream.

They knelt on a blanket placed on the floor.

Jeanne was the first. She removed her top, revealing a magnificent torso with high small breasts and perfect skin. Pasteur removed his shirt and his body stood in stark contrast to his soon-to-be mate. Forty-seven was still old in that day and age.

Pasteur poured alcohol on a cloth and carefully cleaned a spot on her neck as she did the same. They repeated the process on their arms.

At the same time, they inserted their needles into an artery on the other's neck.

"Êtes-vous prêt?" asked Pasteur.

"Yes, I'm ready," answered Jeanne.

Pasteur reached up to valve on the needle in his neck to let the blood flow through the tubing. He let it flow for some time emptying it all into a large flask. When it was nearly full, he shut if off the valve. Jeanne raised the vial to her lips and took a sip, smiling.

She then opened her valve, letting her blood run only long enough to fill the tube and eliminate any air bubbles. Villepreux-Power was first, inserting her needle into a vein on Pasteur's arm. He followed directly after and within moments they had formed an exchange system, each of their blood flowing through the other person and back again.

"Mon dieu," groaned Pasteur as the Affliction began to take hold. For Jeanne, it was very energizing at first. She had heard of such feelings occurring when a new, non-Afflicted mate was taken. Her cells were rejoicing at the fresh 'food' and her system was both ingesting the foreign cells and infecting them. The euphoria only lasted a few minutes, though, as the Affliction quickly latched onto Pasteur's system.

With natural-born Afflicted, Awakening was a gradual event, happening over months. With a fully-grown mortal, the transformation was immediate and startling.

Pasteur suddenly dropped his head and began breathing deeply, almost with a growl.

"It burns," he panted. "So... strong... so... wrong."

"Be strong Louis," said Jeanne in a calm voice. "Remember what is happening. Your body may resist."

"I know..." he said in slow, metered words. "I will... not panic... do not... be... concerned."

Though she was not, she still waited tensely. Sometimes the blood ritual with a mortal was seamless and quick, at other times they had to be restrained for several minutes if not longer. Jeanne waited, ready to restrain him if needed.

He breathed deeply, staring at the floor and willing his body to not revolt at the foreign invasion. At last, after three or four minutes, he looked up with a smile on his face. "It is so clear. Everything is so clear and wonderful. How easy things seem now."

"I know, dear," she said, "are you hungry?"

"I am," he said. "I am for everything."

"Drink first," she urged him.

Pasteur lifted the flask to his mouth and began to drink. He was so enamored with the taste he didn't notice Jeanne removing their needles and standing to remove her skirt.

He certainly noticed her when he finished drinking. The refined, highly educated man -- one of the great minds of his day or any day -- found himself reduced to base animal instincts. Before him stood a mate, his mate. There was only one thing he wanted or needed, and she was that one thing.

As he rose, he stepped out of his trousers and stalked her --his erection already stiff and ready.
He lowered his head to her breast and sucked hungrily. She gasped with pain and he pulled back. Out of sheer instinct, he had bitten too hard and an incision above her nipple dripped a red stream.

"It's all right," she purred. "It will heal. This is your time, do as you wish."

Over the next two hours, Abby chose to focus entirely on helping Aimée to heal, feeling it was not her place to participate in such a sacred event in two people's lives, even empathetically.

Though she did not enter their minds, she could not help but hear their activities.

She had witnessed, and been part of, some legendary sexual encounters -- but none of them compared to the animalistic frenzy taking place in the spacious attic between the two newly mated scientists. She realized the contrast of their professions compared to their behavior perhaps added to the perceived intensity of things -- but they were WILD.

She finally went deep within and pushed herself into Aimée's mind. She sought out memories of childhood days and carefree times. For the next few hours, the two of them dreamed together -- finding peace in memories of many lovely days.

The next thing she knew, she was waking up to the stirrings of Aimée.

"I had the loveliest dreams," said Aimée. "You were with me and we were girls."

"Mm hmm," said Abby.

"I'm so sore," said Aimée. "I've never felt like this before."

Abby sensed the stirring of the other two people in the room. Jeanne and Louis quickly dressed themselves and came to the bed to check on Aimée. The blanket was pulled back. Through two sets of eyes, Abby looked down on Aimée and had to stifle a gasp. Aimée looked dreadfully pale and the wound was still red and angry. For the first time she realized just how close her friend had been to death. Were it not for having an Afflicted healer and the healing abilities of her system, Aimée would have perished within the hour after her injury.

"Hello handsome man," whispered Aimée. "Are you a cadet, too?"

Abby chalked Aimée's comment up to delirium, but she naturally switched her view over to Aimée's eyes.

"Who are you?" cried Abby.

The man standing next to Jeanne was perhaps twenty years old. Strikingly handsome and amazingly well-muscled, he was almost beautiful.

"Why, it's me, Dr. Pasteur," said a voice more resonant and youthful than the day before -- but doubtless belonging to Louis. "Oh my, what has happened to my voice?"

"Oh my, Louis," said Madame Villepreux-Power, "I imagined you would fare well through your awakening. But oh, that is a mate.

"What on earth are you talking about?" grumbled Pasteur.

He walked to the dressing table and even he gasped at his appearance in the mirror.

"Well, this is embarrassing," he said. "This is hardly dignified, I'll have to speak with Galen and ask him how he trains his body to appear more mature."

"You'll do no such thing, at least not for a while," said Jeanne.

It was clear by the expressions on the other two women's faces that they certainly didn't wish him to make any changes to his new appearance. He glanced at himself in the mirror a bit longer. Abby could tell he was emotionally torn between being pleased at his transformation, and fighting the feeling that his very pleasure made him vain."

"Should I tell him it is an easy trick?" whispered Jeanne.

Both Abby and Aimée shook their heads in a definitive 'no'.

"Well," said Pasteur, turning away from the mirror. "More important things at hand. Let's have a look at our patient."

Pasteur took a seat beside Aimée and examined her closely.

"Overall, you are doing well given the gravity of your injury. However, I do have some concerns about the wound. There is definitely an infection. That is surprising for an Afflicted, and speaks to how weakened your system is. I wish I could do something about it."

"Why don't you try," suggested his new mate.

"Oh my," said Pasteur. "I am Afflicted. What gift do I have?"

He touched his hand lightly to Aimée's skin and closed his eyes, willing his mind to look in -- to look further.

He tried several times and Abby could feel his frustration and growing disappointment. Then, like a dam opening, his gift exploded in his mind.

"There!" cried Pasteur. "I am in! I am inside of her! Can you believe it Jeannie? I'm inside of her."

"Well, I was hoping we'd be exclusive for a little while," quipped Jeanne.

But the humor of the comment was lost on Pasteur as he gained insight into a world that wasn't remotely possible to see from the most powerful microscopes of the day.

"There," he cried. "There are cells that accomplish that. And the skin, it does have bacteria, so much... but much of it is good, too. What of the heart, how is it doing?" Oh dear, there is much damage still. Jeannie, perhaps you and I can repair it together."

Jeanne and Abby watched on; amused, as Pasteur's excitement continued to grow. He eventually fell to muttering to himself for a while, then stopped speaking altogether as his mind explored further and further into her system.

"My dear," said Jeanne, finally breaking him out of his revelry.

"Yes, what?"

"Her wound, you had concerns?"

"Oh yes!" he cried. "Let me look."

His senses rushed into the spot, and through his mind Abby saw a great battle waging between ugly and angry tiny creatures and the guardians in Aimée's body. She almost jumped in fear when she detected that Pasteur felt the infection was winning.

"No!" he whispered. "You will not continue in this way."

"What's wrong?" whispered Aimée, who had been drifting in and out of sleep.

Abby put a soothing hand to Aimée's check and was alarmed again at the great heat emanating from her.

"She is so feverish," she said.

"She won't be for long," said Pasteur. "Not if we can help it. Jeanne, can you see the bacteria?"

"I can," she said. "I see them a bit differently than you, I expect. And I can't kill them. I can only send the Afflicted cells and her fighter cells to help out."

"Well I should hope I could do something since it has been my lifelong crusade. I am concentrating at the edge of the wound, can you feel me there?"

"Yes, I can," she said.

"You watch and monitor the area. Let me know if any of this seems to be harmful."

He targeted a group of bacteria and went in even further. Happily, he intuited exactly how they functioned. With a tiny twist of his mind, he flipped two tiny components in the composition. Instantly, an entire colony died.

Good cells rushed in and like conquering an important defensive hill in a war, the 'troops' instantly began pushing out to take advantage of their strengthened position.

Jeanne kissed Louis on the shoulder and stroked his hair.

"Perfect," she said. "You help her there, I will get to work on her heart and move onto the lungs.

Pasteur plodded through the wound, striking out everywhere and destroying bacteria... but there were so many millions of them that it was slow going. Then, he happened on an idea that excited him to no end.

"Ah!" he cried. "How wonderful would that be?"

Jeanne was too intently focused on her work to speak, but Abby humored him.

"What?" asked Abby, sensing he needed to talk this out with someone.

"You see, my girl," he explained. "Bacteria and viruses, they are not smart. That's part of what makes them so dangerous. They are single-minded warriers They go in with one job and do it with a vengeance. I believe that same simplicity might also allow me to... re-educate them shall we say?"

He sought out several hundred bacteria cells surging strongly in Aimée's lower dermis. He pierced into the center of all of them at once.

"Hello my friends," he murmured. "You have been misinformed. You are fighting for the wrong side. You need to seek out those who look like you and destroy them."

With another tiny twist, he reeducated the cells and urged them to complete a new mission.

Instantly, they turned traitor and went straight for other bacteria cells. Of course Aimée's own cells did not know they were friendly, so they did not last long in any case, but the havoc they wrought was significant. That tactic proved to turn the tide of battle and Pasteur began a triumphant campaign through Aimée's system, cleansing it of every enemy he could find.

"What have you done?" asked Jeanne. "I was making good progress, but I just felt her strengthen immensely."

"I've eliminated most of the other side," said Pasteur. "Her body can now focus exclusively on healing."

"Wonderful," said Jeanne. "Her heart is doing well. I think I've got it quite near perfect. Her lungs are mending on their own. I think the best thing for her is to simply rest. Congratulations, Louis, you are Afflicted and you are marvelous.

* * * *

Frederique cursed under her breath once again. There were countless worries in her head, the foremost of which was Aimée. It was understandable that she hadn't returned in the first hour. She was doubtless hiding as well and would have taken caution to avoid secondary sweeps by the other deplaceurs. If Arnet had been able to infect Brolly and Bullet it was unlikely that any other deplaceurs had slipped through. That translated to global travel being entirely controlled by the enemy.

Yet, after an hour or more, she knew Aimée would have returned for them. The fact that they were hiding in the mine made no difference, because Frederique had no doubt that Abby would be with her. That meant they could find them anywhere.

As the hours stretched into a day, her second worry grew. They did not know where they were or how close they were to any Afflicted outpost. She was stranded with two stallions, two young men bursting with awakening and on the brink of mating. Who was around to relieve them? Only her.

She had no qualms relieving them, even with Claude -- but she did not wish to become their mate. She loved Palo deeply and had no wish to cloud that love with unwanted biological entanglements.

Even worse, she already had a strong resonance with Claude. She was his mother. This aligned their cells closely, and her times with him aboard the Siren had only created a stronger link which would prove even more troublesome if they had any extended contact.

Jacob, too, was on the verge. One day was the rule. Two days was dangerous. How had the old expression gone? One and Fun, Two and You, Three and We. It was old rhyme from a bawdy Afflicted tale about a scenario similar to this one. In it, a woman was stranded with a young man on a desert island. He had awakened, and it had gone fine, she had cared for him. He had turned into a stallion -- and oh the rhymes the author had found for the young man's output. Then, he had reached the mating stage of his development.

One and fun, was obvious. The moon had turned full and the young man in the story had grown ready for mating, the two in the story had enjoyed a sensual and athletic night.

Two and you meant that if you lay someone in such a state twice, your own system would begin crying out for the partner. This is what happened in the tale. The woman became enamored with the young man in a way she never would have imagined, though she was still able to resist.

Three and We -- on the final night, she had succumbed.

In the tale, they had been found less than a week later. The woman had returned home to the difficult situation of having two mates. It had been passed off as a bonus scenario in the tale, but Frederique wanted no such bonus.

This was complicated by the fact that if they weren't satisfied regularly, there wouldn't be any choice in the matter. They would either take her to mate forcibly, or fly to the nearest civilization and take the first mate they could locate, mortal or otherwise.

In the mine, they had found a few comforts of home. The miners had carved out makeshift quarters about a quarter mile into the mine, probably to take shelter from the desert heat. Within were camp cots, several blankets, and a bench. There was a lot of mining equipment around, too. Cart chains, ropes, twine, and so on. They'd even found books, which they were able to read thanks to the three barrels of lamp oil they'd found. There was no concern about running out of light any time soon.

She had kept the boys busy taking inventory and setting up the quarters, but she was growing more anxious as the time kept passing.

"Jacob," she said. "Can you try and reach your sister?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Dujobe," he said. "It doesn't work like that, especially not from a distance. She can reach me, but I have to wait for it.

"Hopefully she'll reach out soon," said Frederique. "And call me Frederique, please. Well, I'm going to make myself useful. I'm going to set a trap in case any deplaceurs come to visit.

She had found a spool of twine just inside the mine, as well as several blasting caps. She had also found a lovely set of oil paints and brushes.

She looked around the room and tried to think like a deplaceur. They always appeared in the center of a room if possible. She also scanned her thoughts and remembered where the footsteps in the mine office had been located.

The trick to good trip wires was not to overdo them. If she rigged the entire room there was a good chance a deplaceur would wink in, see the tripwires, and step around them cautiously. She kept her trap deviously simple. It was a simple square at knee height, perhaps six feet on each side with a simple trigger that would set off the caps. For the finishing touches, she stood in the center of the square and looked down at the twine. Mixing the paint carefully, she painted the twine in shades and patterns that blended in with the floor from the perspective of someone standing in the middle of the room.

Looking outside and seeing that it was night, Frederique decided to take quick stock of their surroundings. She stepped out of the mine and flew straight up to around a mile in height. She had never been there before, but based on the startling rock formations and the distant line of mountains to the north she could only conjecture they were somewhere in the American Southwest.

Around ten miles to the north she could make out the lights to a town, beyond that, perhaps another fifty. At least they knew where they could restock on blood and other provisions when needed.

She flew back to the mine and remained in the air to stay clear of her trap. The boys looked up when she came back and the appreciative stares that swept over her body did nothing to allay her fears.

Plainly put, she was stranded with two young stallions. Less than a day before, they had been told they would be allowed to take their mates. They were ready.

As the hours passed, she could feel their glances linger longer and longer on her form. She began to invent work for them, having them explore the other tunnels while she examined the cache of supplies in the office and other areas. There was blood, chilled with an ingenious machine created by Franz. There were handcuffs and other restraints. Food, money, even a small cook stove. Just down the second tunnel they found sleeping quarters. It was nothing fancy, no love nest. Simply two rooms separated by an iron door, with bunks in each room as well as a simple couch.

The boys couldn't be kept at bay forever. Frederique kept checking the sunlit cracks in the office and the earth truly seemed to be turning more slowly as the sun crawled downward below the horizon.

"We found a spring," said Claude, excited. "Far back in the third tunnel."

"Yes," said Jacob, "and it is no ordinary spring. Someone has carved out a pool. The water is just a trickle from the side of the tunnel but the pool is full. It must have taken years."

"Well, we'll have to explore it some time," she said calmly.

She was no empath, but she could practically see the visions racing through Claude and Jacob's heads of frolicking in the water with her. Jacob's eyes couldn't seem to leave her cleavage and she knew his Afflicted- driven mind was working overtime wondering how her full breasts might float in that underground aquatic wonderland.

"We could go now..." suggested Claude, trying to sound innocent."It would be good to wash off after all we've been through."

"No," insisted Frederique, "I've much to do, now leave me to it."

The entire situation was exacerbated by the fact that if the boys weren't satisfied soon, there wouldn't be any choice in the matter. Their brains would revert to a primal state and they would either take her to mate forcibly, or if she was able to somehow resist them, they would fly to the nearest civilization and take the first mate they could locate, mortal or otherwise.

She gave thanks that it wasn't necessary they stay in one room. There were three separate tunnels, all solid.

She did have a job to do, and not just to keep herself away from the boys who sulked as they watched their one potential partner walk away from them.

Frederique went to the office with a spool of twine, several blasting caps and a lovely set of oil paints and brushes that had been in the stores.

She looked around the room, trying to think like a deplaceur. There was a natural phenomenon that happened with deplaceurs. When they jumped into a space, they always appeared in the center of the most spacious area of the room. Frederique evaluated the room and carefully readjusted the furniture, moving a chair here, a table there. It all looked natural but if it worked it would cause the deplaceur to arrive in the exact location Frederique wanted.

The trick to good trip-wires was not to overdo them. If she rigged the entire room there was a good chance a deplaceur would wink in, see the tripwires, and step around them cautiously. She kept her trap deviously simple.

Her area of twine formed a simple square at knee height, perhaps six feet on each side with a simple trigger that would set off the caps. For the finishing touches, she stood in the center of the square and looked down at the twine. Mixing the paint carefully, she painted the twine in shades and patterns that blended in with the floor.

As night fell completely and the sun was well below the horizon, she fetched the boys. Claude helped Jacob fly through the room above the trip wires. They exited the mine and saw that the entrance was cleverly concealed. Chances were, the mine had been a mortal endeavor to begin and had been hidden for other reasons. When the mine played out, the Afflicted had probably assured that none of the previous owners with knowledge of the location were alive and then established it as an entry point to this part of the country.

What the three didn't know was that this was Nine Mile Canyon where Bullet had taken Aimée to train several times.

"We should have a look around," Frederique explained to the boys. "Your job is to scout out new lodgings. I'm not terribly hopeful we'll discover anywhere as secure or suitable, but see what you can find."

Frederique was glad to fly away from the two, their longing was palpable.

She flew straight up to a few thousand feet above the ground where she could get a good view of the surrounding landscape. Around ten miles to the north she could make out the lights to a town, beyond that the next inhabitation was perhaps another fifty miles distant. Here and there she could see the smoke of a chimney or a dim lantern in a window, and she could also see several mines in the hills around them.

She took a deep breath and said a silent prayer. Dropping down, she flew rapidly to the town and decided to have a look around.

There were few people who were better at aerial surveillance than Frederique. She was a shadow, flitting along the edges of buildings and peering inside in search of a rather unique target.
She looked at homes and hotels, shacks and 'proper' homes. Finally, she saw several cowhands staggering out of a run-down house at the edge of town. She knew this was the most likely place she would find what she was looking for.

She landed in the darkness beyond and walked straight up to the brothel. Still dressed in the stately finery she'd worn for the children's hearing, she cut quite a figure when she threw open the door and stood silhouetted starkly in against the darkness of the starry sky beyond.

Everything in the room stopped. The piano players stopped playing, the girls chatting up patrons stopped giggling, the bartender stopped polishing a glass. They all stopped upon seeing this regal, beautiful woman stepping into a place so unbecoming her. The brothel reminded Frederique of the stories she'd heard about the cheaper places in Rome. Across the back of the room were six curtains, four of them were open to reveal a filthy bed. One had the curtain drawn across and she could hear ugly grunts coming from beyond, and the sixth had a black curtain in front.

The madam walked over to her with an air of authoritative dismissal.

Everything about the madam spoke of better days. Her face had undoubtedly been lovely once, but was marred by years of hard drinking and hard living. Her dress would have been thought elegant at one time, but was now stained by sweat and smoke. Even her breasts, once her finest asset, were now simply large from excess weight and were pushed up garishly by a corset that had doubtless been loosened many times.

Frederique did her best to maintain a calm expression but it took every ounce of self-control for her not to gag at the smell of liquor, smoke and human stench that permeated the building.

"Hello, honey," said the madam. "If you're looking for a gal, we don't cater to that sort. If you're looking for a job, I don't reckon anyone around here can afford you."

"Well, honey," said Frderique. "I am looking for someone for my son. He's a virgin and I want him to learn things right."

"I'll be damned," said the madam. "Usually the Pa comes in. Well, come on and have a gander, I'm sure we'll have someone that suits your tastes."

The girls were called to attention, presenting themselves to Frederique for inspection.

It didn't take much of a look before Frederique feared she had made a mistake in coming. The girls were a mix of dullards and wantons, not a spark of intelligence showing in any of their eyes. The girl in the busy closet (for it could hardly be called more than that) was soon finished. Her John came stumbling out buckling his belt and the girl, no more promising than the next, scurried to join the line of girls, readjusting her clothes as she did.

Frederique was about to turn to leave when she heard the clink of a bottle beyond the last curtain.

"Who is in there?" she asked the madam.

"It's just Jessamine," said the madam. "You don't want no truck with her."

"I'll determine that for myself," said Frederique.

She started toward the curtain but the madam did all she could to keep herself between the gorgeous woman and her goal.

"You really don't want her," said the madam. "Jessie's a hard luck case. Come from a hoity-toity society in Kansas City, runned off with a dandy who caught her eye. He took her as far as here and left her for another gal."

"I'll just have a look," insisted Frederique.

The madam leaned in close to Frederique and spoke in low tones.

"Lady, you don't want that gal. She ain't clean."

Frederique pulled back the curtain and the girl beyond squinted at the light, throwing up a hand to shield her eyes.

Frederique gasped at the sight before her. Many centuries of life had taught her to recognize beauty in all of its forms, and this girl had truly been beautiful. Now, however, her skin was pocked horribly by sores and pustules, many of them open.

The disfigured girl barely gave Frederique any notice, but turned again to her cheap whiskey bottle.

"Leave me alone with her," said Frederique.

"Like I said, she ain't clean," said the madam.

The glare Frederique gave her spoke more than any words she might have spoken. The grubby and corpulent madam bowed her head and pulled the curtain closed. Frederique sat on the mattress next to the girl.

"Would you like a drink?" asked the girl.

"I don't mind if I do," said Frederique. She waved off the glass and took the bottle in her hand, throwing back a huge swig.

"So, was he worth it?" Frederique asked quietly.

The girl looked up at her with sad eyes.

"It's been six months since I left home," she said sadly. The girl was so utterly defeated she had no energy for tears.

"Six months," Jessamine repeated in a flat tone. "If I could go back, I'd tell that stupid little girl who was me to listen to her parents. I'd tell her they were right, he was no good. Can you believe that? Six months and everything I had, everything I was is gone and it's never coming back. Syphilis, some wedding present, right? I saw the sore on his arm and he said it was from a spider bite. What kind of spider leaves an open sore like that? That little girl from Kansas City didn't know any better, but I sure do now."

"What if I said you could have a second chance?" asked Frederique.

"Ma'am," said Jessamine coldly. "There's no coming back from where I've ended up."

"I know you won't believe it, but there is," said Frederique.

"How?" said Jessamine.

"Come with me and I'll tell you," said Frederique.

Jessamine gave a disbelieving shrug, but wobbled to her feet and Frederique offered her a steadying arm.

They emerged from the curtain to find a silent room, all intent on watching them.

"The girl is coming with me," said Frederique.

"When you bringin' her back?" asked the madam.

"Most probably, never," said Frederique.

"Now hold on a minute," said the madam. "She's gotta settle up. I been supplyin' her with whiskey all this time. Food, a place to sleep. She's got debts."

Frederique reached into the coin purse she'd taken from the supply cabinet and removed three large gold coins and dropped them scornfully into the woman's hand.

"That ain't enough," said the madam.

"It's far more than you deserve," said Frederique coldly. "Goodbye."

Frederique led Jessamine outside. The beautiful, but fierce Afflicted warrior didn't even turn upon hearing furtive footsteps following behind.

"If you were hoping for more of my money, or some sort of special favor from the mysterious woman in black, by all means keep following," said Frederique. "However, for payment I'll be taking your family jewels. The only decision for me is whether to eat them raw or fry them."

The footsteps retreated and Frederique led Jessamine into the moonlit desert.

Frederique took Jessamine's hand and it took some effort for Frederique not to flinch away. Diseases of the flesh were unheard of among the Afflicted. The Affliction would, of course, eradicate such harmful cells, but the stark truth was it wouldn't even allow its host to put itself in a situation where it might get infected. Frederique had known a young libertine among the Afflicted who thought to test the Affliction's aversions. He had attempted to lay with a syphilitic girl and hadn't even been able to finish kissing her before he began retching.

As they lifted off the ground, Jessamine looked hazily at Frederique.

"I must be really drunk," she said groggily. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say we were flying."

"Yes dear," said Frederique. "As we fly, I will tell you of my kind."

In the air, Frederique gave Jessamine a brief history of the Afflicted, of the life they led, and of the crisis at hand. By the time they had arrived at the mine, Jessamine had sobered up surprisingly as she realized she really was flying, and what Frederique was saying must be true.

Her eyes were as wide as saucers when they flew in through the office and over the trip-wires to the tunnels beyond.

"And you're bringing me here just for the boys?" Jessamine asked. "I've certainly met my share of horny men, but your men become dangerous if they aren't taken care of?"

"Our women, too, dear," said Frederique. "When I fled Paris after the last conflict, I made the journey without an Afflicted man and I quite nearly went mad. The Affliction has two hungers, blood and lust. When it is denied either for too long, it makes no differentiation. Once the balances tip us over into bloodlust or matelust, it is equally as dangerous. Those natural mechanisms we have in our brains that separate us from the animals begin to break down. Once the Affliction takes hold in your body, you will satisfy their needs - as they will satisfy yours. This is compounded even more by the fact that they are in the mating phase - wakneturst. Had things gone differently, they would be mated as we speak."

"But, I'll get them sick. Won't I?"

"No dear," said Frederique. "The Affliction won't allow it. Once you are Afflicted with my blood, it will push out anything that is a threat. It will not be comfortable, but you will be cured of Syphilis."

"That alone makes it worth it," said Jessamine. "But from what you've told me, won't I be your mate?"

Frederique noted Jessamine's insight and was pleased at the girl she had chosen. If she had to bring someone into the fold, at least it was an intelligent girl.

"No," said Frederique. "Just as I passed this on to my children in the womb, you will have my strain but that will be all. It takes a mutual exchange of blood to become mates. Of course, given your age you will become Afflicted and awakened at the same time. With luck, you will have some time before you yourself enter the mating stage."

"I'm having a hard time understanding every part of this," said Jessamine. "But I understand the basic ideas. I'm ready."

"Now Jessamine," Frederique said, "I do want to be clear on what you are accepting. You will never see the sun again. You will never see your family again. You will have few, if any children."

"But I'll be healthy again?" she asked. "And I'll live for a long time?"

"Decades, even centuries," agreed Frederique.

"Look at me, Frederique," said Jessamine, indicating her scarred and pustule-marked skin. "I've already been disowned by my parents. I've been abandoned by the man who seduced me. Shouldn't the answer be obvious?"

"I know, but I had to ask."

"So, how do we do this?" asked Jessamine. "Do you bite me?"

"I could," said Frederique, "If not for two things. One, it isn't the best way. Two, my Affliction would likely not let me bite you because of your illness. I'll get the things I need."

Jessamine waited in the tunnel while Frederique retrieved supplies from the office.

Frederique returned with a bag and then led Jessamine down the second tunnel to the sleeping quarters. They entered the sleeping room on the left.

"Please remove your clothes," said Frederique. "You won't have need of any for the next few hours."

While Jessamine disrobed, Frederique pulled some clean sheets from a small linen cabinet. She made up a lower bunk then beckoned to the girl to lie down.

The term was the French Disease, which was a term that insulted Frederique to no end. Galen had determined that the disease had been brought from the new world by the crew who had worked for Christopher Columbus, but it was no simple illness. It had been the result of a minor sexual disease in the natives of America intermingling with the smallpox cells endemic in the European sailors. As a result, smallpox had lashed out and created a biological genocide in America, while Europe had received syphilis in return. Regardless of what it was called, the scourge was currently wreaking havoc with Jessamine's once-lovely body and skin.

Frederique blanched upon seeing the extent of the sores on the girl. Jessamine couldn't help but notice the other woman's revulsion.

"It's horrible, isn't it," said Jessamine tearfully.

"It is," said Frederique. "When time allows, I will personally assist you in tracking down that husband of yours if you like. God knows how many women he has infected, or continues to infect. Now lay back dear, I'll need to restrain you."

Jessamine complied, but looked up at Frederique fearfully.

"Do you have to?" she asked.

"I'm afraid I do, dear," explained Frederique. "Afflicting a mortal is usually a quick and often joyful experience. However, when someone has an illness as serious as yours, the body will fight the Affliction. The first stage can trigger a horrible panic in your body, and all you will want to do is run or perhaps even harm yourself."

"How long?" asked Jessamine. "How long does it take for the first two stages?"

"One can never tell. I have seen it pass in mere minutes, or it can take as long as a full day. The fact that you have this disease will certainly complicate the issue."

As Frederique had been talking, she had been cuffing the girl's hands and feet to the bed.

"With luck, it will not be a full day," said Frederique. "As it is, I will have to make accommodations for taking care of the boys until you are fully turned."

"Accommodations?" asked Jessamine. "Do you mean... you? But Claude is your son."

"Jessie," said Frederique, "there are so many intricacies of our kind you will have to learn. For now, I must do what I must do, and pray I can keep them at bay until you are ready. I hope that doesn't disgust you."

"Frederique," said the girl, "I am hopefully getting my life back after going down a road that took me places no girl like me could have ever imagined. I am in no place to judge."

"Wonderful attitude," said Frederique. "I believe I am adding a good contribution to our kind this day."

Frederique removed a large syringe from a medical kit. She found a vein in her arm easily and withdrew a full 100 CC's.

"Just remember," she said soothingly. "When the fever is at its worst, remind yourself that you will be beautiful again. All of these sores will be a distant memory."

"I dearly hope so," said Jessamine.

The young woman winced as the needle entered her arm and the warm blood began to flow into her veins.

"Hmm, that actually feels nice," she said. "It's so warm. How long until..."

The girl's eyes fly open in a panic. Frederique quickly pushed the rest of the blood in with the syringe and pulled the needle out just in time. Jessamine's entire body bucked and she cried out in agony.

"This was a mistake!" Jessamine said. "You, you're a monster!"

"Yes, dear," said Frederique patiently.

"You've killed me, haven't you," Jessamine cried. "You want to feed on me, or something worse! Oh my god! It's burning!"

"I'm so sorry," said Frederique.

"No you're not!" cried Jessamine. "Get it out! Take it out! Cut my wrists and let this horrible poison flow out of me."

Frederique did not say another word but stood and made ready to leave. The pustules were truly beginning to boil. Had she been a biologist, she might have been able to see the tiny spiral-shaped syphilis cells being gathered and pushed out of the open sores. As it was, her stomach simply turned at the sight of the girl's skin roiling like a pot of filthy soup as the Affliction undertook the job of cleansing its new host.

Frederique calmly walked away to the sounds of the girl cursing her name. She was too long-lived to let it bother her.

The boys found her waiting for them in the mine office. They returned with wild-eyed excitement.

"We found another mine," said Jacob. "Two miles up the canyon."

"We also found girls," said Claude. "There's a cabin two miles or so away. They are very pretty. We can catch them, bed them, and fly off so it doesn't seem like anything more than a dream to them."

"It wouldn't be enough," said Frederique patiently.

"But they were so nice," said Jacob. "We could smell them. Their blood was pure, their bodies were lush. It took every ounce of restraint we had not to fly in and take them."

"I'm proud of you for controlling yourselves," she said. "Now come with me. We've some business to attend to."

Their hungry eyes had been undressing her since they'd come back. She walked ahead of them and could sense their hot breath as they panted after her. She could practically feel their hearts beating in their chests...and filling their loins below.

They reached the sleeping quarters and an angry growl startled them from the other room.

"Is that them," said Jessamine in a raspy voice. "Are those the animals you've brought to feed on me?"

The boys looked in and pulled back with revulsion.

Jessamine was a sight out of a gothic horror novel. Her sores had gone from smaller to larger and the skin that wasn't marked was almost glowing from her fever. She truly did not look human.

"I'll eat them instead," she growled. "Bring them here and I'll show them pain! Let me free!"

Frederique was thankful the steel door between the two rooms did not have a viewing grate. She closed it with a clang and Jessamine's angry shrieks were greatly muffled.

"What was that?" asked Claude

"That is my relief," said Frederique. "She is horrible now, but you'll be surprised in a few hours."

"Your relief for what?" asked Jacob.

"Boys," she said. "Go over there. Sit. Remove your clothes."

"Why?" asked Claude.

"My son, I know that even through your lust-fogged mind you are smarter than that. We have some things that need taking care of, so let's get it out of the way."

"But wait," said Jacob. "The other mine, aren't we going to move?"

"Oh no," said Frederique. "Sending you two on that errand was a diversion. We need to guard against the finest of the Afflicted coming after us. The last thing we want is to be caught unsuspecting in a strange place. Here we can be prepared and have a chance of defending ourselves. Which reminds me, this is the plan..."

She put off removing her clothes while she went over the action plan in the event her trip wires were triggered.

"If we hear the alarm, we must act swiftly, no hesitation," she said. "I expect a second sweep will be here in a day or so."

Now, it was time. The two boys were fully undressed now and sat on the plain couch as she had instructed. Jacob's cock lay nearly erect on the couch next to his leg, while Claude's was quite full and rested against his stomach. She grinned a devilish grin at seeing their two impressive members rise up to full height and length when her dress fell to the floor.

She bent over to pick up her dress, giving the boys a good view of her breasts which were now even more visible beneath her corset. Folding and placing her dress on the table, she crossed over Jacob.

"Jacob, be a dear and unlace me," she whispered.

Jacob gulped nervously and was barely able to comply, his hands shaking so much from nervousness and sexual tension. Frederique removed the remainder of her underthings, but decided to leave her high laced boots on, not wanting to make the boys wait any longer and it took quite some time to fully unlace the elegant footwear.

She sat down between them and reached out, sliding each hand down their youthful, smooth chests and then letting it drift beyond its target to brush playfully over their thighs.

"Well now, it's been a while since I found myself in this position," she said. "This definitely takes me back to my Academy days. So, young cadets, let's see what happens."

She slid her hands back up and felt the thrilling sensation of a hard cock in each hand.

As she began stroking, she tried to keep a clinical perspective about what she was doing. She noted that Claude's tool was indeed as massive as she remembered it and possibly slightly larger than the last time she had pleasured him (probably because it was entirely engorged from his long wait). Her hand took a deliciously long time travelling its length, and her fingers and thumb couldn't quite touch when wrapped around its girth.
Jacob's cock wasn't as great in circumference. Her right hand could just complete the circle around his hot and pulsating shaft. As she stroked him, she was surprised to note that he had the edge in length. She didn't need a ruler for this. She could tell by feel from the length of the journey her hand took as she stroked the manly tool of each boy.

"I'm a nurse" she thought to herself. "This is a simple duty and I'm providing a needed service to help them through a difficult time."

She continued telling herself that hoping it would help her maintain a bit of distance. That worked well until she felt the lips on her right nipple. She had been stroking vigorously with her eyes closed and Jacob had bent his head down to suck hungrily at her breast. His tongue danced playfully over her rigid button and she moaned involuntarily.

She was suddenly reminded that she too had gone for over a day without a partner. She too, though not in wakneturst, was desperately in need of release and companionship.

Claude followed suit and the feel of two sets of lips on her nipples caused her to arch her back in sheer pleasure, pushing her breasts harder against their hungry mouths. The boys began to groan and their hums of pleasure sent even more lovely sensations through her breasts.

Jacob's hand was the first to find its way between her legs and she hissed with delight as his fingers pushed tenderly into her glistening hole. His thumb soon flicked over her clitoris and the randy beast lurking within her was truly awakened. In a surprisingly short time, she felt a spasm beginning.

Her stroking stopped. Clamping her hands fiercely down around each cock she squeezed desperately as the climax wracked her body. When the strongest of it passed she resumed her stroking, but this time with more intense and strong movements, yanking each cock with an almost angry motion. Her hand bounced down to the base of each cock with an authoritative thud faster and faster with each stroke.

Still, she needed more. Pushing the boys' mouths and hands away from her breasts, she slid off the bench and knelt in front of the boys, who instinctively moved a bit closer together.

She contemplated the two beautiful 'toys' in front of her and debated which one she would put in her mouth first (all the while, keeping a possessive hand on each of them). Claude's she had held before, and even taken in her mouth once when giving an impromptu lesson to her daughter. He was large though, and so big around.

Jacob, then, she decided. His cock was new to her, and could ease her throat open in preparation for Claude's.

With her left hand, she continued stroking Claude while she began paying very wet and expert attention to Jacob's long cock with her right hand and her experienced mouth.

Her tongue worked its way up his long and wonderful shaft before finding its way to the tip. In no time, Jacob was gasping with pleasure as her hand worked him slowly and her tongue tortured him playfully. She started to take him further and further into her mouth and as his long organ began to ask for admission to her throat, she removed her mouth quickly to simply utter the word "stand".

Jacob did as she asked and Claude followed suit.

With Frederique kneeling below Jacob, she now had the perfect angle. Many of the girls in the dorms, Hannah in particular, had begun to master the art of taking a man in their throat -- but nothing Jacob had ever experienced came close to this. With six centuries of experience behind her, Frederique brought him more pleasure than he could have imagined.

Frederique's mouth and throat were well trained. She knew just the right moment to swallow, tightening her throat muscles as Jacob slid in and out. She worked him down gradually, but soon his long, very long, shaft was sliding down her throat and his balls were slapping against her chin at the base of each thrust. As she sensed him growing close, she pulled off and turned her attention to Claude.

Her throat was indeed ready and she moaned happily at the way his cock stretched her raw throat even wider. She pulled out all the stops. Claude made a mental note somewhere far back in his brain, that he needed to revise his comparison of Seiko to his mother. Frederique had tricks of her own that were simply different from the Japanese dynamo's, not better nor worse, just different.

Frederique slid her son's huge cock down her throat again and again, and she could feel his seed begin dribbling out in tiny drops, signaling a time for a change once again.

Now was the time. She pulled off of Claude and began pumping both cocks violently in her hand. The boys moaned in ecstasy as she tugged them over the edge. Jacob came first and she pulled his cock into her mouth, inhaling the stunning explosion that followed. She was determined to swallow every drop, no matter how much. She might have, if it hadn't been for Claude who couldn't help but let loose at seeing Frederique sucking Jacob's eruption down her throat. He groaned loudly and a white eruption of fluid shot out with surprising force. It started at her neck, then she aimed his cock with her hand so that it would shoot lower. Gush after gush poured out over her breasts and cascaded downward. The feel of hot cum surging down her throat mixed with the warmth splashing over her quite nearly sent her into another climax.

Almost, but not quite. With Jacob's cum dribbling down her throat and Claude's white wonder coating her lower half, she was satiated but she knew the boys wouldn't be. Any doubt about that fact was easily proven by the still rock-hard members in her hands. Jacob's cum stopped, but his hips almost immediately began bucking again, urging Frederique to begin stroking him once more.

"How about a change of pace," said Frederique.

She stood and with a quick swish of her hand, swooshed the copious fluids from her skin with carefully aimed streams of air.

She was of average height for a woman, but her boots added a fair amount extra. She turned to kiss Jacob and mentally measured him. He was still too tall for an easy entrance from the front... but what did that mean for a flier? She kept kissing him and levitated vertically, raising herself to the perfect height to lower herself down upon his cock which seemed even harder now than it had been. She let out a satisfied moan as she let gravity have its way and Jacob's lovely cock began splitting her open inside.

"Oh, so good," she moaned. "So, so very good."

With Palo (or Galen, for that matter), there was no subtlety. Palo's wide girth spread her wide and the rest was a pleasure, but certainly not a surprise.

By contrast, Jacob slid easily into her moist passage and it was lovely. The surprise came with his length, which seemed to keep on and on... and on. As she let herself fall further and further upon him, the accomplished swordswoman had the image of a rapier in her mind. Whereas Palo had a broadsword, Jacob had an epée ... but the narrower blade was no less lethal when used with skill. Jacob was indeed impaling her skillfully.

She gave a joyful cry as his 'weapon' reached the hilt and found places inside of her that seemed to spark nerves in several other parts of her body as well.

Having been with a flyer for so long, she had long become used to aerial sex. Now, suspended on his lovely, long, slender cock, a memory came back to her of a favorite method she had often used with Christophe. Certainly, she had been able to fly them both (and often had) -- but the way she wished to try was a bit different.

On the next plunge, she cried out joyfully as he split her even further.

"Jacob," she moaned, "I am yours to play with. I am weightless and floating, do with me as you will."

Jacob understood instantly and grasped her hips. Though her hands were wrapped tenderly around his neck, they merely served as an anchor as he lifted her effortlessly up his shaft and then pushed her slowly back down.

He did it again, but faster this time.

He did it once more, followed by another, and another. The rhythm grew faster gradually, though she was not descending entirely upon him each time.

The hunger in Jacob's eyes grew and he paused with her suspended high on the tip before pulling her crashing down violently.

Frederique cried out with painful joy.

"Oh God, Jacob," she moaned.

"Too much?" he asked.

"No dear, with our kind it is rarely too much."

She began to shriek out with each thrust as his cock continued to find new spots of divine torture. She felt him reach that critical moment where he could either slow and wait for more, or give in to release. It felt as if he was pushing against her cervix and almost opening it with each long, wonderful thrust. As he paused, she begged him --

"Don't wait, Jacob, give in. Give yourself to me."

That was all he needed and he pulled her all the way down once more as he sent a steaming geyser of cum into her inner recesses. Just as before, it kept pouring and pouring out. Frederique was surprised to find herself joining him in climax, and the gushing heat inside her brought on one of the most surprising orgasms she could remember having for quite some time. It was so intense that Jacob couldn't even keep his legs straight. Without a flyer in the mix, they would have collapsed onto the floor -- but with Frederique there, she did not let them fall. Instead, she lifted him with her powers and let the orgasm play out with the two of them holding each other tightly, drifting in midair.

Once they were able to speak, she gave a deep but affectionate chuckle.

"Well done, my young stallion. Well done, indeed."

Claude had patiently waited through all of this, stroking his manhood slowly as he watched his busty mother put on such an amazing show with his best friend.

"My turn," Claude demanded when they finally descended to the ground with satisfied exhaustion.

"Oh Claude," said Frederique. "It really isn't such a good idea if we do any more than we have. I will help you as much as I can, but to go further..."

"If we can't go further, I'll go take the girls on that farm," said Claude angrily. "They were ripe for the taking. I should have done it when I had the chance."

The frustrated look on Claude's face tugged at her heartstrings. She knew the burning need in his body. She knew the Afflicted-driven requirement for intimacy, especially with wakneturst behind it.

What tore at her the most was the very real conflict created by those very needs. She and Claude had natural resonance because he carried her strain of the symbiote. They had even greater resonance because she had sated him a few times on the Siren. With him full of matelust, it would be a precipitous encounter.

The reality, however, was that Claude was already a threat. Frustrated could turn to angry -- and angry could turn into dangerous to either themselves or mortals in the surrounding areas.

While she knew there were risks, she felt they must be taken. If she made Claude wait much longer for true satisfaction there was the real threat of him taking her by force -- both sexually and as a bloodmate. Conversely, if she denied him he would surely go after the mortal girls nearby. If she were to initiate things, at least she could control the encounter as much as possible.

All of these thoughts raced through her head in an instant before she took her son's hand.

"Very well, Claude," she said softly. "We will do what we can, but you must let me be in control."

"I will," said Claude.

He was sitting on the couch, his proud cock standing tall between his legs. She needed this to be sex, and nothing more. What she didn't want was any sort of emotion to be involved. For that reason, she turned herself around and sat down slowly into his lap.

Her interior was stretched and well lubricated from Jacob so Claude slid in easily and the added stretch from his size caused her to moan with pleasure as he spread her further open. She intended for things to be quick, but a small alarm bell went off in her head when she bottomed out on Claude's wonderful tool.

There was always a silent 'hello' when two Afflicted bodies came together. It was always lovely, magnifying the human body's innate sexual pleasure by blending it with the Affliction -- which constantly craved companionship.

This hello was not that of two friends meeting. This greeting was akin to partners who had been apart for some time. Frederique felt the difference (in contrast to Jacob) and she focused every ounce of her conscious mind on keeping this casual and removed. It wasn't easy, because her Affliction was crying out feelings of love and longing and togetherness that spun through her mind and almost instantly overwhelmed her. That Claude felt it too was obvious. His hands reached around to massage her breasts. His lips were soon kissing her neck and back.

"No Claude," she insisted (though it wasn't what her mind was crying for). "No kissing. Just this, please."

That they were both flyers became quickly obvious. Unwittingly, they drifted off of the couch and Claude began maneuvering her closer to him. Fighting through the haze of emotions, she pushed away from him and reached back with her arms so the he could manipulate her with those (and thereby not keep kissing her neck).

Even that position was overwhelming in the intensity of emotions. Frederique told herself that it was just fucking, just lust, but as Claude pounded her from behind she felt herself falling deeper and deeper in...

Bloodlust, she suddenly realized. The hypnotic effect of Claude's nerve endings connecting with hers in his heightened state was beginning to win her over. She was forgetting herself, forgetting Palo. All she could think of was Claude and his blood. She longed to take him, to sink her teeth into his neck while he also drank from her.

In her lusty fog, what she now wanted made sense. She would have none of the doctor's damned needles and exchanges. She was Afflicted and she would take her new mate in the primal way her kind had done for so long.

She purred as she felt him growing close to climax.

She released his hands and floated back into him, moaning at the added sensation of her back against his strong chest. As he continued thrusting his cock into her, she turned her head and kissed him over her shoulder.

The wetness of his tongue against hers stirred her instincts even more. It was time.

She felt his hotness surge into her and cried out as she joined him with her own climax.

The pulled off of him and spun around. His cock kept pumping viscous fluid into the empty air. It was as though an explosion of guns had sounded the feeling was so intense. As she spun around and slid back onto his still-spraying cock, readying her teeth -- she kept hearing a voice calling her name.

Yet, it wasn't Claude's voice calling her name. It was someone else. Again and again 'Frederique', but it wasn't amorous, it sounded panicked.

She somehow became aware of Jacob again. In almost a rage, she turned on him, but his panicked face managed to bring her back to some sort of lucid state.

"The alarm!" Jacob was saying. "It's been triggered!"

That had been the explosion she had heard. It hadn't been any emotional overload, it had been her trip wires.

"Fly!" she cried.

She grabbed Jacob's hand and lifted him off the ground. With Claude directly behind them, they flew to the mine office.

* * * *

Elsewhere, Bullet had been making sweeps. Arnet, the master, had ordered them to seek out the witch Frederique and her kin. They had gone through jump site after jump site, and had come up empty. They knew full well that Aimée herself, if she were still alive, would be difficult to find because she could have jumped anywhere with the blind empath. But Aimée had jumped before with the others, and the likelihood was that she would have deplaced to at least one of the common locations.

Yet they had come up empty again and again. There had been no sign of them.

Still, something was lingering in Bullet's mind.

What was the thing? She wondered. What was that key detail her mind couldn't lock in on?

She was blessed with an almost photographic memory, something that came with the territory of being a deplaceur. The more one could visualize a place the better one could jump, so noticing details became a matter of ha bit.

She reviewed the list of places she had been. Mountain hideout- clean, dead volcano - clean, nine mile canyon - clean...

She stopped.

Nine Mile Canyon, she realized. It was clean -- too clean. There had been no dust, no lingering footprints from past visitors. That was it!"

She made her preparations and winked out, reappearing in the mine office. It was true. Someone had been there! The room had been rearranged. She had them! She was already visualizing the smile on the Master's face. She headed straight for the storage cabinet to see if any of the supplies had been moved... and then she felt the pull at her feet.

Clever, she thought to herself. The trip wire was impossible to see, but it was her own fault for not taking greater caution. As she popped back out of the room, she heard the explosions going off.

She appeared in the Deplaceur's central location and looked about frantically. There was no one there. Protocol dictated she should now bring others. But she was too impatient and wished to please the Master. She waited, frozen with indecision -- hoping Brolly or someone else would pass through. After a minute or so, she made up her mind.

She was a deplaceur. She was Bullet. There was no one who could defend against her attacks. If there were five, or even ten people she could immobilize them in seconds. She would do this for the Master. He would be proud.

In a blink, she was back in the mine office with her daggers ready.

The room was the same, but different. She couldn't see anyone, but there was an odd feeling in the room that caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise.

Her keen senses reached out and she smelled the very distinct aroma of sex. She looked around but couldn't even see a sign of someone there -- yet the odor was strong and near. It was a male who had recently been with someone.

She realized it must be Jacob, the invisible boy who the Master had captured before. All she needed to do was wait. He must be holding his breath and soon enough he would need to exhale and that would give him away.

"Looking for someone," said a voice.

Bullet turned and saw her. Knowing the Master's hatred of his father's killer, it was horribly hard not to zap straight out and run her through. Yet, she couldn't. The Master's orders were clear. Frederique must be returned alive at all costs.

Frederique was standing naked and glistening from passionate sweat. She wore no armor, no belt. All she had on were high leather boots and she had a long sword in her hand.

"Hello Frederique," said Bullet.

She practically spat the name out.

"Hello Bullet," said Frederique calmly. "Would you like to surrender now and save yourself any injuries?"

"I'll risk it," she said with a grin.

Bullet was evaluating how to best cripple the woman. Frederique was a legendary fighter, but Bullet was she could take her. The deplaceur decided to aim for the sword arm first. One pass through, and she could sever the tendons and the muscles.

Without giving the slightest clue she was jumping, she launched herself, arm outstretched with her trademark sword.

When she materialized in the spot she had aimed for, Frederique wasn't there.

As Bullet rushed through the spot where Frederique had been, she felt a slash through her shoulder. Bullet winked again into the center of the office.

Her arm was bleeding profusely. Frederique was floating gently back to the ground, having flown upward with inconceivable quickness.
"How?" said Bullet, simply.

"You don't survive an Afflicted war by being slow, my dear," she said. "Care to try again?"

Bullet switched the blade to her other hand, to her uninjured arm. She jumped again, this time she bounced twice. Once to a spot behind Frederique, though facing her again, and the second aimed as a moving jump aimed at her legs.

Frederique did not float up this time... but she still parried Bullet's thrust. Bullet was sent careening off balance from total surprise. She winked again to the middle of the office. She felt another pain. Now there was a gash in her left arm.

"Now, Jacob!" called Frederique.

Bullet tried to jump, but it was too late. She felt the cold click of metal on her ankle. It was a dampener. She started to thrust toward the spot where she knew Jacob to be, but she was stopped by a battle cry from Claude who now appeared, also naked, flying toward her quickly. She raised her blade with her right arm, now the only one functioning at all. Her eyes followed Claude as he veered off to the right... and that was her mistake. Frederique was directly behind him and swooped in.

The legendary warrior of the Afflicted batted the short sword away and closed in on Bullet, her hands sliding quickly around the deplaceur's neck.

Frederique's thumbs instantly closed in on the artery and vein on either side of the neck. Bullet felt her consciousness rapidly leaving her.

Frederique leaned in close and put her mouth to the deplaceur's ear.

"You'll be very useful to me," she said. "And who knows, you might just end up with a new mate."

Blackness overtook Bullet.

When she woke up, she found herself chained to a bed, cuffs round her ankles and wrists. Her clothes were gone.

Claude stood nearby, his cock fully enflamed.

Once she moved past feeling that she had disappointed the Master, Bullet looked defiantly at Claude.

"Whenever you're ready," she quipped. "It's not like this is anything new for me these days. Chains seem to be my lot in life."

Claude crawled onto the bed. He did not enter her straight away, but lay between her legs and lowered his head down to her athletic breasts.

As his lips sucked tenderly at her nipples, Bullet was reminded again of how lust was the only emotion which could drown out the Master's song.






CHAPTER 14



Palo's hunch had been correct. The tunnel they found had led straight to the underground mansion where he and Frederique had been living. It was the perfect headquarters. Not only was it opulent and well-stocked, it was also impregnable.

Scaurus knew the designers and had consulted on a few of the security components. In normal times, the sprawling underground mansion was the ultimate in hospitality. The parties that had taken place there in decades past were legendary. Everything about it was welcoming.

Locked and armed, it was completely the opposite. The prior tenants had lived through the past war and had built the home with every possible security measure. It was surrounded by false passageways, traps, and snares of every imaginable variety. Once they were inside, Scaurus activated the security. The place had deplaceur alarms as well as shields against jumpers created by Franz. Scaurus was certain that only Aimée could find her way in if she had Abby with her and a person to fix on.

In the deep basement, they inspected the dungeons. There were over fifty large cells. Akin to the design of the dorms, each cell locked with a timer and delivered blood and supplies on a regular basis. The locks could be set for various intervals and could not be tampered with once they were set. Worst case scenario, if they were besieged and the mansion was somehow compromised, they could lock themselves in and wait indefinitely.

"Why these?" asked Palo. "Why would any private home need such an elaborate dungeon?"

"A private home wouldn't," said Scaurus. "But the owners of the home were not private, they were part of the upper circle. The council funded these dungeons for just such a time as the one we are in. There are two others in New York that I know of, but I would wager they are already held by the enemy. I know that at least one owner was in the courtroom."

Once the security around the mansion was activated - Palo, Scaurus and Hypatia rested briefly and then the three of them took care of their daily 'dose', wanting to make sure their minds were sharp.

Scaurus was an old friend and lover. He and Hypatia had gone on many missions in the past and found their way into each other's arms now and again. Palo was new and she found him refreshing, though she could sense him pining for Frederique. She met Scaurus in the gymnasium, but went with Palo to a guest bedroom where their lovemaking was lovely, but perfunctory. Palo certainly stretched her to the limit and she gave thanks for the rapid healing powers of her kind. Had she been mortal, she would have been sore for days.

When they were done, they met in the study and mused on what they should do.

Hypatia spoke first. "At the bare minimum, we need to venture out to get at least one other woman in here. But, I suspect you'll want to muster the troops, yes General?"

"Indeed," said Scaurus. "My suggestion is this: I will instruct Palo here in guerilla tactics and we start a two-man campaign. We capture where we can, recruit where possible, and maim if necessary. Hypatia, you can help when you want, but we need your brains more than your battle skills."

Scaurus took Palo to the training gymnasium (not the other one) and gave him a crash course in the type of battle they would be engaging in. This was somewhat different than the lessons he gave at the Academy.

"Collar, cut, then kill," he explained. "If we can, we want to take the best fighters completely out of commission with collars and bring them back to our dungeon here where we will keep them until we find a cure. Barring that, a well-placed slash helps to take them out of the mix for a while. I prefer to hamstring. The Achilles tendon is famous for a reason. It is terribly hard to heal and the Affliction puts all of its energies into rebuilding those tissues. One snipped tendon at the heel knocks out an Afflicted warrior for three days minimum."

"As for kill, we will doubtless come into situations where that is our only choice. Yet, avoid killing someone whenever possible. If you take the life of an Afflicted, you are taking away many lives they have already lived, and even more they might go on to."

Scaurus taught Palo several moves that were surprising in their simplicity. If Palo had been impressed before, it was nothing compared to his newfound admiration of the warrior whose years outnumbered his own by more than twenty-fold.

When night fell, they met Hypatia at the hidden entrance.

"What are your plans?" asked Scaurus.

"Oh, I thought I might fight with you for a while until Palo gets his feet wet, then I'll head off for some reconnaissance and research."

"Excellent, it will be good to have you along."

Palo wondered what sort of fighting Hypatia might do. She had no sword or weapon, and only carried a satchel over her shoulder, plus a stack of notecards in one hand.

One of their primary concerns was differentiating between friend and foe, but their first encounter didn't pose such a problem. In the warehouse district of western Manhattan, they spied a group of ten people. Four were on the ground and six were in the air. Even from their hidden vantage point they could smell the mortal blood of those on the ground.

Hypatia started pulling notecards out of her stack and looked comically like a card dealer preparing a game. They were hiding on a rooftop and she laid ten cards out carefully on the ground.

"What are you doing?" whispered Palo.

"You've heard the pen is mightier than the sword?" said Hypatia with a grin. "My feeling is the page is mightier than the bow."

There was nothing comical about what happened next. The notecards shot up in the air and flew to a spot several yards in front of the party they had spotted. They began to fall, fluttering around the group. The people looked at them curiously, but paid them little mind.

"Get ready," muttered Scaurus.

He had dampeners draped over one arm, as did Palo.

"Now!" whispered Hypatia.

Palo and Scaurus sailed silently and rapidly toward the group. At the same moment, the notecards flew suddenly toward the faces of their enemies. The cards flapped flat against their eyes, pulling in tight like a mask. In the confusion, Palo and Scaurus had five of the flyers dampened within seconds. Their helpless bodies fell up to twenty feet to the cobblestones below, crippling three of their cohorts on the ground. The one remaining flyer was able to pull the card from his face and quickly took flight with Scaurus in pursuit. Palo sensed something and instinctively dodged just in time as a dart went whizzing past his head. He swooped down and bashed feet first into the man who had shot the dart. The man had no time to recover because Palo followed his tumbling body pinioned him a few moments later.

He quickly hogtied the man and then went after the other injured mortals to subdue them. He removed all weapons and was rather pleased with the mass of bound bodies he had accumulated. Looking up, he saw the most unusual sight. More notecards appeared and formed a stair-like pattern descending down from the rooftop where they had been hiding. Hypatia stepped off the edge of the building and onto the first card -- which bore her full weight. She calmly, but quickly, descended the improbable stairway, each card returning to the stack in her hand once she had used it.

She crossed to the pile of weapons Palo had compiled and examined them closely. Her keen mind immediately noticed a difference in the ammunition that had been loaded. There were darts with blue rings and others with red rings. Both contained clear liquid, but there was surely a difference. She crossed to the mortal Palo had tied up who looked at her with hateful eyes.

"Red and blue, what do they mean?" she asked.

"Master said not to tell," said the man.

"Red and blue. What do they mean?" she said again. "Red darts and blue darts. What's the difference?"

The man pressed his lips tightly shut and looked away from her.

She reached into her satchel and removed a sheaf of papers. She pulled a narrow strip out and examined it lovingly.

"You know, they're making more and more paper out of wood these days," she said. "It is lovely in its own right, but I still long for papyrus. I know a maker in Alexandria. He has perfected this paper I hold which combines rags, wood and papyrus. It is more suited for flat sheets. You see, full papyrus tends to roll. My favorite thing about this is how crisp it is. Crisp is good, don't you think?"

There was something in her tone that was frightening the man -- and for good reason. Hypatia let the sheet of paper fall from her hand but it stayed suspended in the air. His eyes grew wider and wider in panic as the paper began to slowly fall toward him.

Around this time, Scaurus arrived back with the final prisoner in tow.

Hypatia spoke in a disarmingly calm way, keeping her eyes on the prisoner all the while. "Scaurus, do you remember Tomonari?"

"Of course," said Scaurus. "He was the best swordsmith I've ever known. I carry one of his blades today, as a matter of fact."

Hypatia continued to speak with measured tones. "Do you know, he once told me he wished he could forge a blade out of paper? That was how he measured the edges of his swords, against the thinnest paper. I even saw him kill a man once with a blade he had shaped from paper. The paper blade was useless afterward, of course, but for that first slash it was marvelous."

The paper was now resting on its edge against the side of the man's neck. One flick of her wrist and Hypatia sent the blank page sliding across the man's skin. He cried out and a line of red appeared on the side of his neck which began to drip slowly.

"That was just regular flesh," she said in a threatening tone, "and I've got three more good edges on this piece of paper alone. Imagine what it might do to a vein or a windpipe."

The paper floated above the man's face and started to twist, landing edge up against his forehead.

"It's for your kind," he cried out. "Please, I'll tell you, but I beg of you, no more with the paper."

"Our kind? What do you mean?" asked Hypatia.

"The blue is God's Strength. It's for us. The red has more. I overheard the Master say it had two parts, one that would bind you to him in the mind, the other in the body. It's for your kind. It will turn you devils to the Master's will forever."

"There now, was that so hard?" said Hypatia.

The paper hovered back up into the air.

"Successful first mission, I'd say," said Palo, looking about at the bodies which were tied up around them.

"Absolutely," said Scaurus. "How about you and I go do some more damage?"

"Sounds perfect," said Palo.

"I'll go do some fact-finding," said Hypatia. "Let's meet back here at 4:00 a.m."

"What do we do with these?" asked Palo.

"Easy," said Hypatia. "Just bring them over there."

Palo and Scaurus lined up the prisoners in a pile, and with a wave of her hand Hypatia summoned the broadsheets and other papers in the alley. Moments later, their quarry was buried beneath what looked like nothing more than another pile of garbage in the grimy streets of New York.

"Let's hunt," said Scaurus.

Hunt they did. Within the hour they had subdued another fifteen Afflicted. During that time, the only close call they had was when Scaurus suddenly found himself facing a pistol. The mortal bearing it even pulled the trigger but the hammer came down with an empty thump.

"I thought I was going to the Elysian fields for certain," said Scaurus. "The gods were with me."

Palo nodded with a grim smile and off they were for more of the chase.

They were doing so well that they eventually grew careless. They flew down to capture two Afflicted women who had just entered a train tunnel. They were just about to attack when they heard the rush of feet.

At the entrance were several flyers and at least twenty people on the ground. In the darkness beyond the women, they also heard the approach of a large group.

"Remember, dodge the darts first," said Scaurus. "You can fight through an arrow in the leg, but not through being infected by the little man's injections."

They hovered up to mid-height in the tunnel, buying themselves the most possible directions of maneuverability. Looking beyond the group at the tunnel's entrance in the street beyond, Palo saw a tiny figure in the darkness a good thirty paces behind the people approaching them. The figure raised a sword in its hand and slashed. The back row of people cried out in pain and fell to the ground. In the confusion, Palo and Scaurus still held their ground.

Another swipe of the sword and the next row of enemies fell, all of them grasping at their heels. Another slash, another row.

Not having time to discover who their unknown benefactor was, Palo and Scaurus swooped into action. A flurry of darts flew out of the darkness beyond them and Scaurus willed a blast of air that caused every one of the projectiles to swoop straight up and go rattling off the ceiling of the tunnel. Scaurus gave an ancient battle cry and soared into the darkness of the tunnel.

Palo swooped in on the group in front who were also firing. Several of the dart guns failed to fire and Palo was able to avoid the rest of the projectiles with some fancy flying.

Once the darts were dispatched, Palo's arm sought out victims. There were no ankles for him to target, but his blade stabbed downward, severing shoulder muscles and shattering collar bones, crippling mortal and Afflicted alike.

It was a fierce battle and the clattering of swords rang for several minutes. At last, Palo and the diminutive figure who had come to their rescue were standing alone among unconscious and moaning bodies. Scaurus came flying back from the darkness.

Having survived the last war, Scaurus knew the simple test to administer each other upon meeting to assure they hadn't been caught by a dart.

"What do you think of Arnet?" asked Palo.

"He's the son of a weasel and a rat himself," said Palo. "You?"

"I'd feed him to the dogs of Hades sooner than lay eyes on him."

The angry groans around them affirmed the undying love the serums instilled in Arnet's followers.

"What of you?" said Scaurus to tiny figure. "What is your name and how much do you love Arnet?"

The figure was wearing a mask which looked to be Asian in origin. It was a theatrical mask of a fox, used in kabuki theater. Their helper removed it to reveal a lovely woman's face with shimmering green eyes.

"My name is Seiko," she said. "I hate Arnet and would sooner throw him to the wolves than look upon him. I am pleased to be of service. "

"Of service?" laughed Scaurus. "By god that was some of the most amazing fighting I've ever seen, rivaling even a deplaceur. Where have you been hiding?"

"I was the mate of the Samurai Haru Morimoto," she said quietly. "He did not approve of me fighting, but I learned much in my time with him. While I am a talented healer, especially with the art of massage, I discovered my true gift was to create blades of wind."

"This Affliction will never cease to amaze me," mused Palo. "Can you show us your gift once more now that we aren't under attack?"

"Of course," said Seiko.

They walked to the entrance of the tunnel and she pointed to a young tree some twenty paces away.

"There is my target," she said. "I can do this without a blade, but I find that a real sword helps to focus the blow."

Her sword had been sheathed across her back. Scaurus saw that it was a wakizashi, the shorter of the blades a Samurai would carry. He surmised, correctly, that the blade had belonged to her former husband. Given her tiny frame, it made sense that she would choose the smaller blade as opposed to the katana.

Seiko focused and then made a downward diagonal stroke. She looked like someone at sword practice rehearsing their moves but there was no rehearsal about what happened to the tree. Seconds later, the top of the tree slipped to the ground and went toppling over. All that was left was a slender trunk, with a diagonal slash at waist height.

"Can you strike, too?" asked Scaurus. "With an open palm, can you send a blow?"

"I don't know," said Seiko. "I've only ever played with the sword."

"Played," muttered Scaurus. "If only we could all play so dangerously."

They debated over what to do with the mortals prisoners, but realized that even with fifty cells in the dungeon below the mansion they would fill up too rapidly. They patched up the mortals and left them tied up to be found in the morning. Then, they gathered the Afflicted victims they had restrained.

Morning was drawing near and they had quite a chore ahead of them. They gathered up the wounded and tied them together in a chain. They flew slowly through the streets, gathering wounded bodies as they went. By the time they arrived back at the first site, both Scaurus and Palo were pulling a chain of over 20 people behind them in the air.

"Oh thank god," said Hypatia upon seeing Seiko. "Another woman to help service these two. I'll survive a few more nights. I'm still sore from last night -- god help you, girl."

Seiko simply blushed as she started helping tie the wounded Afflicted who had been obscured below the garbage and papers.

Keeping a vigilant eye out, their trip back to the mansion was thankfully uneventful. They floated their captives into the dungeons and placed them four to a room (two men, two women). If future evenings proved as successful, they would have to double the occupancy of each room before longy.
Back in the kitchen, they became better acquainted and Hypatia briefed them on her findings.

"If there is any good news," she said, "Arnet at least moved his headquarters out of the city. He has found a castle or something 30 miles north on the river, near a place called Tarrytown. That will keep this conflict out of mortal's eyes to a certain extent."

"What news do you have from any others?" asked Palo.

"Very little," said Hypatia. "The dorms are locked down tight which means the cadets are safe. It certainly seems like all deplaceurs are captured, which is a disadvantage. I overheard mixed news about Reykjavik, that most of the Council has been taken, but there are still numerous fights."

"This all happened so fast," said Palo.

"Yes," agreed Hypatia. "Faster than with the Weasel, and there is a surprising element about that. With Jacinto, if he bit a follower they were also contagious. I haven't seen that here. Everyone who follows Arnet has been injected. The fact that he has been able to work so quickly speaks to his preparation, but it also points out a flaw. So long as we can eliminate the darts -- we eliminate the threat. I wish I could find out how he creates so much serum, though."

"Any news of Galen?" asked Scaurus.

"None," said Hypatia, sadly. "I suppose that is good news, though. I would have heard something if Arnet had captured him. The same can be said of Frederique and your children. If Arnet caught them he would be crowing the news to the skies. Wherever they are, they are safe."

Scaurus pulled at his shoulder, wincing.

"Sore?" asked Seiko.

"Afflicted or not," said Scaurus, "These old bones still feel it after a night of battle. I'll be right as rain tomorrow, not to worry."

"But I can help things along," said Seiko. "Come, let me attend to you. I've cared for many warriors after battle."

"If you insist," said Scaurus.

He gave Palo a knowing wink as they departed for the gymnasium.

The air hung heavy with anticipation between Hypatia and Palo.

"Come on then," she finally said. "I suppose I have to attend to you as well. Not that I wouldn't mind some attending myself."

* * * *

Aimée and Abby were just beginning to grow restless. Aimée was still healing, and Abby was offloading as much of the pain and discomfort as she could into her own system which also repressed her desires. The wakneturst in them was not as strong as in the boys -- but as Aimée recovered, it would soon grow to full force.

They might have been able to go another full day, but it didn't help that Louis and Jeanne were newly mated. The entirely transformed Louis Pasteur was now the equivalent of an insatiable nineteen-year-old.

The two scientists were currently examining a sample of Aimée's blood, Jeanne seated on Pasteur's lap, his cock buried deeply inside of her.

"I'm fairly certain he has spent fewer moments outside than in," Abby communicated to Aimée.

"Patience," said Aimée, even her internal voice weary. "When this is past, we will also know what it is like to be newly mated. If it is worse than simply being Awakened, imagine how fierce our desires will be."

Still, it was growing increasingly difficult to be in close quarters with the two lovers. Pasteur and Jeanne had at least created a small room with a dressing screen and a mattress in the corner of the attic. The sounds were no less intense, but it spared them the visual elements.

After several more of their lovemaking sessions, Abby pulled Jeanne aside.

"Jeannie," she said. "I think we need to find some more of our kind."

"But why?" asked Jeanne, naively. The lust was fogging her thought processes a bit.

"Because you are newly mated," explained Abby patiently. "We find ourselves caught with wakneturst. As I understand it, fresh mates should only lie with each other until the bonding is complete -- which takes many days -- so Louis isn't an option for us."

"Oh, I see," said Jeanne, blushing. "Of course, I knew that. I just..."

"You don't need to explain yourself," said Abby. "Besides, I think Aimée needs to get out for a walk. The exercise will help stimulate her system to complete the healing. Won't you take us for a walk around Paris? Neither one of us has ever seen it and both of our mothers were from here. I assure you, I can provide quite enough protection for us all with my gift, even if Aimée can't jump yet."

"That is a lovely idea," said Madame Villepreux-Power, who now seemed to be leaning more and more toward wishing to simply be called Jeannie. "It is a bit stuffy in here and evening is coming on."

"Yes," said Abby drily, "stuffy."

"Louis," said Jeannie, "get dressed. We're going for a walk."

The attic was in the house of Jeannie's childhood friend. Jeannie had purchased it when her friend had moved to Spain. Jeannie had bought it and sealed it, hoping to return someday to convert it to a full Afflicted domicile with a below-ground dwelling. She hadn't gotten around to that yet, however. When the sun set, they descended below and were able to find clothes for the two girls in abandoned trunks. After the battle, Aimée's clothing had been cut away and Abby's were badly stained. The clothes they found were somewhat ill-fitting but they would do for a casual walk in the darkness.

They stepped out onto the street and breathed in the fresh air with happiness. They were in the Montmartre district and Jeannie and Louis pointed out their favorite spots excitedly. Louis, especially was almost like a young child. The renewed energy of youth had infected him entirely and the slow methodical scientist he had just recently been fell away. He pointed out favorite haunts from his childhood and stopped in several cafés to buy bread, which he swore tasted differently with his newly awakened senses.

Their travels took them past countless shops and restaurants. One, in particular, caught Aimée's eye.

It was a clock shop. Though it was closed, a streetlight was right outside its window. The light shone in on clocks of every shape and variety. There were pocket watches and mantle clocks, grand brass clocks and tiny ones meant for a dressing table.

Aimée stood transfixed, staring at all of them. She stood for so long that Abby urged Jeanne and Louis to take a seat in the café across the street.

"What are you thinking Aimée?" asked Abby.

"Shouldn't you know that?" asked Aimée.

"Not really," said Abby, "there are a million emotions in your head."

It was true. The top emotion, perhaps, was fear. For the first time in her life, Aimée had come to know what it was like to be mortal. She had been one step away from discovering that death was indeed possible. She was also roiling with emotion. She loved Jacob, but she also loved Claude. There had been a small part of her that had felt... unfaithful? She hadn't thought of it at the time, but when the three from the council had announced she was to be mated to Jacob, her heart had soared. Now, looking back, she wondered how she could have turned so quickly from Claude.

Above all, she realized that she missed her mother. Less than a quarter of a year ago, she had been swimming carefree in the underground pool of their home in Morocco. In those times, boys had been a playful daydream and her mother had been her closest confidant. Now she was half a world away from her mother and she wanted nothing more than to talk to her, to lay with her head in Frederique's lap and let her stroke her hair.

Looking at the clocks, she was also reminded of her mother's stunning legacy. Her mother was the savior of their kind. Yet, Frederique had never spoken a word of her romantic, yet haunting past.

Aimée realized that her mother had also once been an uncertain young girl. Looking at the clocks made Aimée think of the handsome young clockmaker her mother had once loved in the very same city where she now stood.

As if on cue, the door of the shop creaked open. A man stepped out. He was not as young as them, but he certainly hadn't reached thirty yet. He looked up with surprise upon seeing the two lovely young women. He was not the sort to notice that their clothes were not of the current fashion, or of the right fit. What he saw was their faces and their undeniable beauty.

"Bonsoir ladies," he said with a tip of his cap. "Do you like clocks?"

"Yes, we do," said Abby before Aimée could say anything. "I'm guessing you like clocks, too."

"Oh yes," said the man. "But where are my manners. My name is Martin Lepine."

"I am Aimée," said the taller girl, introducing herself. "And this is Abby."

"Pleased to meet you," said Martin. "You are lovely, both of you."

"Merci, Monsieur," said Aimée.

"You are unusual," he said, looking at Abby. "I could swear your eyes are blind, but you still see things. None of my business, I suppose, but I wonder how you do it, all the same. But clocks, yes, I do love clocks. My great grandfather made them and though I was a bastard child, my mother insisted I take his last name."

"And you," he said, turning to Aimée. "You seem to have been hurt but are on the mend. The way you hold yourself is cautious in a way. It's like when Old Isabella across the street broke her hip. She's never carried herself quite the same -- she always guards that side. You, you're guarding your chest."

He suddenly blushed.

"Not that I was looking at your chest, though I'm sure it is lovely, but where was I... Oh, yes. Clocks. I love clocks. Would you like to play a game?"

The girls wore bemused smiles as he rambled on. It took them a little while to realize he had stopped talking and had actually asked them a question.

"Oh, a game?" said Abby. "I suppose we could."

"Certainly," said Aimée. "What sort of game?"

"Here is the game," said Martin. "What is the best clock you can see? Look in the window and pick out the best one."

"Best?" said Aimée, "Isn't that a matter of opinion."

"It is, but I'm judging by clockmaker's standards. Using that gauge, there are three criteria. Length, Longevity, and above all accuracy. Length means, how long can it run between windings. Longevity, how long it can go between repairs. As for accuracy... well, that's fairly self-explanatory."

"Very well," said Aimée. "We shall play your game. What is the prize?"

"If you guess correctly, I give you the clock," said Martin.

"And what if we don't?" asked Abby.

"Oh, I don't care," said Martin. "It's just a game I like to play."

"How about if we don't guess the right clock, you get a kiss from two lovely young women?" suggested Abby.

Martin blushed furiously and stammered out a response. I suppose that would be reasonable stakes."

"Let the game begin, then," said Aimée.

She stepped up to the window and began peering intently at the clocks.

To make a show of it, even though he knew something about Abby's vision, Abby also stepped up to the window and placed her hands on the glass in the same fashion as Aimée.

"I could pick it out of his brain," suggested Abby in Aimée's mind.

"Don't you dare," came Aimée's response. "That would be so unfair, and what do we need with a clock, anyway?"

Aimée peered intently into the window. The clocks were mostly made of brass. The majority of them had at least some exposed gears. Such open cases were the clockmaker's way of bragging. By exposing the interior of the clock, he let the world see his finely wrought handiwork.

Aimée felt a curious buzzing at the back of her neck. The clocks suddenly seemed to be living and breathing things to her. She stared more intently and became aware of each gear and each spring. She thought, perhaps, she might take up clockmaking herself when all of the excitement was over.

As for Abby, she was too curious to stay neutral. She reached into the clockmaker's mind and tried to find his answer. Surprisingly, she couldn't find it. As he waited patiently for Aimée's decision his mind flitted in many different directions. His primary focus was on a new wishbone-shaped escapement that he'd been working on for a new line of clocks. His mind flipped back now and again to the pretty features of the two girls, but he somehow cleared his mind any thoughts about the actual clock in question. Finally, Abby gave up trying to pry and simply enjoyed the simple-yet-complex workings of his mind.

"That one!" cried Aimée suddenly. "The small one in the back that has some wooden gears!"

"Upon my word!" said Martin. "You are the first person who has ever guessed after hundreds of people have tried? How did you know?"

"I don't know," said Aimée. "It just seemed... shinier, I guess you would say. Even with the wooden gears, it was more slick."

"Exactly so," said Martin.

He was already opening the door to his shop again and was walking in to retrieve the clock. He lifted it carefully into his hands and delivered it proudly into Aimée's arms.

"It's a trick I learned from studying John Harrison's work. The gears are made of a wood called lignum vitae. It is a very hard wood, but it is full of oil. The natural lubrication it provides keeps the clock maintained naturally. It never needs to be stopped for maintenance, or at least it hasn't for five years. I only need to wind it once a year, but my guess is it could go three years if needed. I hope you enjoy it."

"But, I couldn't," said Aimée. "It is too fine a gift for a mere game."

"Young lady," said Martin, "it is the fondest hope of a clockmaker that each of his creations finds a good home. The fact that you knew which was my finest work means you deserve it. Please, stop in again sometime so I can show you more of my work."

With a tip of his hat, he was gone. Aimée stood cradling the clock in wonder.

"I have a clock," she said with a smile. "What an odd thing? To be in the middle of all that's going on and 'win' a clock on the streets of Paris."

"It is odd, isn't it?" agreed Abby.

Aimée continued to be contemplative. "Abby, what do you think it means? This man, this mortal -- why did our paths cross?"

Abby considered the question carefully. "I think, in the simplest form -- this just means that we have that much more reason to fight. If there are mortals like this in the world, it is our responsibility to be sure they stay safe and are assured of a normal life. What a shame it would be for Martin to be enslaved by Arnet."

"Could it mean more?" asked Aimée. "Could there be a reason we met him?"

"I wonder," mused Abby. "For now, let's just enjoy it for what it is."

They crossed the street and retrieved Louise and Jeannie.

"I have a clock," repeated Aimée with a smile.

They wandered a bit further through the streets, and then Abby discovered what she was looking for.

"Oh my," she said with a giggle.

"What's that?" asked Jeannie.

"There's a safe house just down the next street. Inside are six men... and two women."

"Oh my, indeed," said Aimée. "Just the thought makes me... hungry."

The fresh air had had the exact effects Abby and Jeannie had been hoping for. A near-mortally wounded Afflicted was always slow to heal, but there was always a point when the Affliction revived fully and the healing was accelerated to its usual phenomenal pace. That was just what had happened to Aimée in the past few hours, and her system was quickly surging toward recovery.

Abby retrieved the secrets to the safe house from the mind of one of the occupants. They stepped down the steps to the garden entrance and Abby rapped out a secret pattern on the door. A panel slid open and a lovely pair of eyes looked out.

"What do you think of Arnet?" asked a woman's voice.

Ironically, none of the four were old enough to know of the trick from the last war. They looked to each other in confusion.

"I... we hate him!" said Abby, sensing the required answer. "He is a scourge on our kind."

"Thank god, please come in!" said the woman.

The door opened and they were let quickly in. Instead of a garden apartment, the stairway led down a spiral staircase to a great 'below.' It was opulent and spoke of great comfort. As they descended the stairs, they felt the hungry eyes of six confined Afflicted men on them. Since it had been some time, those lustful looks were actually welcome and quite stimulating. Aimée and Abby's senses perked up and they returned the men's stares with equal hunger. The two women looked at each other with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. So many men, so much fun to be had.

"One moment," said Pasteur -- wanting to head off any overexuberance. "This girl needs to be treated gently and we need to examine her once more before anything happens."

Louis and Jeannie sat Aimée down on a sofa and put their hands on her skin, examining her interior down to the minutest detail.

"So, docteurs, how am I?" asked Aimée.

"You are doing wonderfully," said Jeannie. "Better than I could have imagined. I think, in large part, because of Louis' efforts. Had it just been me, you would have another three days at least. As it is, I think you will be fighting ready by tomorrow night."

"I will be able to deplace, too?"

"But of course," said Louis. "What your system needs now, is a certain sort of attention, the kind only these men can provide."

Louis and Jeanne excused themselves, wanting a full day of privacy in their attic domicile. Abby reached out through the minds of the six men and could sense who had received the least amount of attention from their willing, but weary companions.

"You... and you," she said, pointing to the two men who looked at the girls with happy relief. "You first."

They took the men's hands and led them to a single bedroom. With both of the girls' hunger and Abby's empathic link to Aimée, the men in the hidden apartment were in for a very fun time.

* * * *

Glennis felt like a great, clumsy child. The Elders, as they called themselves, were all about patience and grace. Having been raised among mortals, Glennis felt like she was always clomping around like a bull in a china shop. The thinly veiled looks of disapproval she often received let her know she was constantly speaking too loudly or walking too heavily, or something.

She was not happy, not with anything. She was clumsy and loud, she could barely speak the musical language of her people, and she did not like her name. Shoenweil was how it might be spelled, but there were musical elements to it as well. Though she could pronounce it, she didn't like to hear it. Just the sound of her real name dredged up suppressed memories that she preferred not to visit.

Her parents, if that was what one called them, were a frustrating mixture of loving and aloof. Her father Loenshellen, was one the most respected philosophers of their kind. For all his studiousness, he was actually the most outwardly expressive of the three. Her birth mother, Sheireh, was courteous for lack of a better word, and her egg-mother, Monshellen, seemed to want to have as little to do with her as possible.

New Valley, as their home was called, was a feast of wonders. The old home, as she had been told, had been nestled snugly in the hills of Wales. It had also been lovely, but it had evolved over time. New Valley was a chance for their very long-lived builders and craftsmen to start over. The homes were wondrous to behold, some built from stone and wood, others built from glass and suspended seemingly in mid-air.

Her days were her own. Her parents were always preoccupied with their own affairs and it was only at the evening meal that they spoke.

One day, she saw a young man who seemed to be following her. As with the Afflicted, youth was a relative term and it was more in the eyes that one could tell someone's age. This young man's eyes were bright and excited... not calm or jaded.
"Do I know you?" she said, after seeing him peek around a tree at her for the fourth time.

"I... hello Shoenweil, it is good to see you. I am Kenloen. We are... we were friends in the time before."

"Oh," she said. "For now, I am Glennis and you are Ken. I would be happy to walk with you for a while, if you are agreeable to that."

"Of course, of course," he said with a smile.

He fell into step beside her and she spared him a sidelong glance. He was, as all of the Elders were, beautiful. His skin was a rich brown, which made his piercing blue eyes stand out all the more. He was more broad of chest than many of the Elders, but it suited him.

"How are you fitting in?" he asked after they had walked for a while.

"Not well," said Glennis. "Everyone seems to hate me. They glare at me and seem to loathe every move I make."

"Is that what you think?" asked Kenloen. "You mustn't think that. You are beloved to all of us. You have no idea how much we care for you."

"You have funny ways of showing it," she said softly.

"This is true," he said. "We aren't good at showing our feelings. However, what you are mistaking for loathing is shyness. When you live as long as we do, in such a small community of only a thousand or so, it takes a great deal of time to gather up the courage to say anything. You are noisy, but in a good way. The looks people give you... they are surprised and pleased by your boisterous nature, but they are too shy to tell you so."

Glennis stopped and turned to face him.

"Is that really the case?" she said in disbelief. "You won't speak to me because you are shy?"

"I'm afraid it is," he said. "It's taken me a full day to gather the courage just to allow you to see me, Shoenweil."

"I see," she said.

There was something in his face which suddenly stirred a memory. She had a quick glimpse of him as a young child of three or four.

"Oh my, Kenloen. I know you now! How you've grown!"

She pulled him into a fierce embrace and though he was slow to respond, he eventually did and she found herself basking in the comfort of his strong arms.

She wasn't surprised to find that her cheeks were wet. She looked up to find that his were the same and she tenderly brushed the teas from his cheeks.

"Why didn't you come to me right away?" she asked.

"It... it's difficult," he said.

"Kenloen! What was the game we played? There were marbles... and a grid, or something."

"Oh yes!" he cried. "The game does not have a name, but it was created by your father. Come along, I'm certain it is still in his possession."

They dashed back to her home, laughing as they went. There were quite a few stares following her, but she didn't take any notice.

They came dashing into the house and her father looked up from his meditation at the excited pair bursting into the house.

"Why hello Kenloen," he said. "To what do we owe the honor?"

"The game," said the young man. "The game you made for us. Do you still have it?"

"Oh, the marbles? Of course."

Loenshellen went to a cabinet pulled out a medium-sized wooden box.

"I don't know why I didn't bring these to you before," he said. "These were all yours."

Glennis gasped upon opening the box. If remembering Kenloen had triggered a trickle of memories, the box opened the floodgates. Inside were childhood trinkets: rocks, feathers, games, hair combs. She had to wipe away a few tears.

"Come along then," said her father. "Why don't you play?"

"I think we should," said Kenloen. "Right here."

They sat on the comfortable, backless couch and laid out the board.

The game was akin to what would later be called Connect Four, but it worked in three dimensions and it was necessary to put five marbles in a row either vertically, horizontally, or diagonally. There was also not the requirement of stacking the marbles. As soon as they put the game board down, a three-dimensional grid appeared in the air. As soon as one put a marble into a position, it remained floating there. The only tricky part was later into the game. If one was trying to put a marble into the center of the grid there was a penalty if a marble was touched. Touching one of your own marbles caused it to be replaced by one of your opponent's. Touching one of your opponent's marbles allowed them to swap any of your marbles with one of theirs. When someone won, the five connected marbles even lit up with different colors

The game began, and Glennis was soon laughing happily with Kenloen. She won the first game and looked to him suspiciously.

"Did you let me win?" she said.

"Of course not," he said, but his blushing cheeks belied otherwise.

"Don't do it again," she admonished him.

"I won't. Now, let's play."

They were fairly evenly matched. Where Kenloen was a perhaps a bit more logical, he also had an impetuous streak and would sometimes let his emotions get the better of him. They played for nearly two hours. Their last game was particularly tense, and the entire grid was filled -- with one extreme complication. There were two spots left, in the exact center of the board and it was Kenloen's turn. If he could get the marble to one of the spots, he would block one route, but that would leave her a win if she could reach the final opening.

That was the problem. With the board so closed, Glennis couldn't imagine how he would get a marble in. His hands were much larger than hers and she knew he wouldn't be able to reach it.

Then came the surprise. Kenloen's face took on a fierce look of concentration and he focused on one of his marbles. It slowly lifted up into the air and then slid gracefully into the slot. All that remained now was to fill the final hole -- and Glennis would win.

"That's not fair!" she cried. "You can't use your mind!"

"Actually, that is allowable."

Her father's voice brought her out of the intense concentration she'd been in. She looked up to see that not only was her father watching, but so were both of her mothers. There were several other people gathered around as well -- including two who she knew to be Kenloen's parents. They were all watching with smiles on their faces -- clearly relishing their memories of when they'd last seen the two youths playing together.

"But that's not fair," said Glennis, once she had recovered from seeing all of the people. "I can't do that."

"Who is to say you can't," argued Kenloen. "You are one of our kind, there's no reason why you wouldn't be able to."

"But I've never been taught," she argued.

She detected a hint of movement out of the corner of her eye. It had seemed like Monshellen, her egg-mother, had started to say something, but stopped.

"What is it, mother," said Glennis. "Do you have something to say?"

Monshellen said nothing and simply shook her head.

"Come on then," said Glennis. She crossed to her mother and took her hand tenderly. "Teach me, mother. We never had the chance for you to teach me so many things. Teach me this, now."

Still, Monshellen hesitated.

"Please mother," said Glennis. "Think of all of the things you never were able to teach me. Let's start again, show me how this works."

Monshellen squeezed Glennis's hand and nodded. They went back over to the game board and the mother held a marble in her hand. Reaching out with the inner speech of the Elders, she linked up with Glennis and sent the 'how' into her mind. The method of communication was somewhat similar to how Abby had communicated the crisis out to the Afflicted. It was a mixture of images, but feelings and sensations, too.

The marble floated into the air, and Glennis suddenly understood.

"Oh!" said Glennis, playfully clapping her hands in childlike fashion. "How easy that was!"

She took over control of the marble and sent it spiraling playfully around the room before hovering it over the game board. It descended, weaving between the many marbles suspended above the board. When it settled into the final spot, five of her marbles lit up with a blue nimbus around them.

"You win," said Kenloen.

"Indeed I do," said Glennis, squeezing her mother's hand.

Trumpets sounded and a very official looking woman walked into the room.

"It has been decided," she said. "Tonight will be the feast for Shoenweil, for Glennis."

"Oh," said her Monshellen. "That is simply wonderful."

Yet again, Glennis sensed the odd feeling of hesitation among her newly-found people. Her mothers' next words soon made her forget that, though.

"Come daughter," said Monshellen. "We will prepare you."

"Yes," said Sheireh. "We have created many gowns over the years in hopes of your return. I'm sure we will find one to your liking."

Off they went, to bathe and prepare for a great feast.

* * * *

Oppo waited with his cohorts around a corner. He was very excited to be donning the 'decoy suit', as they had dubbed it.

It was quite ingenious, created from tightly wound rolls of paper and cloth perhaps a half inch in diameter. It was jointed with metal at the knees and elbows, and even came with a lifelike wooden mask, complete with hard glass goggles.

"Are you sure about this?" asked Yolanda, a newer cadet.

"Of course I am, why shouldn't I be?" he asked.

"Because you're our best flyer," she said. "You should let me take the risk. If there's anything wrong with the suit and I'm infected with Arnet, I won't be nearly as great a loss."

"The armor will hold," said Oppo. "We tried it again and again. It is perfect."

The idea had come from Jackie. They had survived several skirmishes with metal armor which they had salvaged from the armory. The problem was that as soon as Arnet's people saw the glistening metal, they dropped their guns and attacked. They wanted to reduce as much of their dart supply as possible, and so they had come up with the suit.

Once Oppo had it on, they put clothes on over the top. Once he put on the mask, he looked odd, but life-like enough.

"No time like the present," he said once he was dressed.

He flew high up and then descended directly into the middle of a large contingent of Arnet's followers. As one, they gave out a cry and shot at him.

His flinches were actually quite lifelike. Armored or not, the sight of the darts shooting at him made him cringe -- realizing what would happen to him if even one needle made it through.

Yet, he felt no prick. Upon seeing him stay in the air and continue to resist, more and more darts flew out until gun barrels and crossbows were clicking emptily.

There were at least three hundred darts in him, but he was unscathed.

"Now!" cried Oppo.

With the darts gone, the Cadets poured out and fought with joyful abandon. They did not fear injury for they were Afflicted and would heal. They did not fear death. They would rather die fighting for their cause. The only thing they feared was becoming enslaved to Arnet, and Oppo had eliminated that threat.

The battle was heated, and frightening. Two pairs of flyers and apportaires skirted the periphery and their sole job was to eliminate any darts people were trying to load. Apportaires were not as common as flyers, but there were enough of them among the cadets to be dreadfully useful. An apportaire could transfer objects from one place to another, but not people. These teams focused their poers and dart after dart disappeared to be shattered on the streets below or the walls of surrounding buildings.

In a brief lull, one of the apportaires relieved Oppo of his worries. The needles, all of them, flew out of his padded armor and were sent shattering to the pavement below. He was transformed from porcupine to padded warrior and began attacking with a vengeance.

It was a shame Scaurus did not get to see the Cadets in the battle, because they did more than right by their drill instructor. The Afflicted among the group who had seen them were relaxed upon seeing it was only cadets -- and that was their mistake. The cadets fought with a frightening determination in the name of their four friends, and of their kind. It was less than twenty minutes later when a full fifty Afflicted lay moaning upon the ground. The Cadets had only suffered three injuries, only had to kill four Afflicted, and none of them had been hit by a dart.

"I am so proud," said Brana. "Let's round up the wounded and bring them back to the dorms. We are filling up rapidly. Well, better them locked inside than risk killing them."

* * * *

Frederique was hunting. She shouldn't have been, and she knew that. She knew she should be in the mine, keeping an eye over the boys -- making sure they didn't harm themselves or either of the girls.

Bullet had proven very useful. It was good that she needed to be restrained. Having Bullet bound helped to quell any response that she might have to the boys' condition. Being bound to Arnet helped even more -- though she submitted willingly enough the sexual attentions of Claude and Jacob, her mind was strongly bound to Arnet so her emotions did not lean easily toward the boys. She had proved to be a good sexual partner without resonance growing between herself and either of the boys.

Jessamine was already proving to be very promising. Her skin had not only recovered, but the Affliction had done marvels for her complexion. Her breasts were very full and round for one her age and her legs were long and sensuous.

It was with the newly turned young woman that Frederique had left the boys. Yes, yes, she should have stayed, but the mother of Claude could not bear to be near them, especially her own son.

The problem was, Frederique could not trust herself.

Bullet had arrived just in time -- truly. Frederique had been within moments of biting her son Claude and taking him to mate.

Frederique's mind kept lingering on her coupling with Claude. They had floated in the air and he had pummeled her from behind. Frederique's mind had kept returning to their aerial exertions. All she needed to do was close her eyes and the sensations returned. She could feel her son's hot cock sliding into her, splitting her open. She could smell Clause's musky scent made rich from exertion. She longed to feel his cum again... and to taste his endless spray sizzling down her throat.

She knew it was the biological effects of matelust. She knew, just as dogs and wolves were susceptible to the biological signs of mating season -- her own system was responding to the primal scent and aura that Claude was emitting. Her mind knew that this was resonance, plain and simple.

Her body didn't care. She needed him... wanted him... lusted for him. Jacob, too, was looking more and more appealing to her as new bloodmate.

Her logical mind, trained with centuries of Afflicted discipline, was the only thing keeping her from her son and his friend.

So, to distract herself she hunted. In the desert night, she flew with sword and bow from the mine cabinet over the landscape. Two antelope had fallen to her sword as she swooped from above. Now, she decided to set herself a true target.

There was a white-tail deer, a buck, over a mile away. For a mortal, it was an impossible shot because of distance. Frederique was not a mortal. She was Afflicted, and the daughter of the greatest archer her kind had ever known.

Plus, she had one other advantage.

It was a trick her mother had taught her, one which she believed was unique to her family.

As she pulled back the steel bow, she gathered her will and poured it into the arrow.

The secret was the wind and the trick was to attach it to the arrow.

She tipped the bow up, crossed her eyes, then let them separate again, and as the speck of a deer came back into focus she let loose.

Just as a good flyer cleared the air in front of them, with Frederique's powers, the arrow suddenly had a clear path. The inches ahead of the projectile and the air surrounding it were emptied. The arrow sped through the night unencumbered by friction from the air. It was encapsulated in an envelope of silent perfection. Only the slightest hiss escaped from the arrow's assisted flight. The deer looked up, hearing the curious sound.

It was the last noise the buck ever heard. The arrow buried itself in his heart and he fell down dead within seconds.

Frederique had left the antelope where they lay, but she was in the mood for venison. She flew to the carcass, quickly cleaned it, and flew back to the mine office, letting gravity naturally drain the body of blood as she flew.

When she reached the mine office, she quickly carved out the best cuts and left the rest to hang on a beam. She fired up the stove in the small kitchen and began to cook.

She tried focusing on the task at hand. There were a few spices, so she tried seasoning the meet as well as she could.

But always, her mind drifted to the occupants back down the tunnel and what they might be doing. How much she wished she might join them.

She finished the meat and put it on five plates. She went first to Bullet and fed her by hand. The naked warrior lay calmly chained to a bed. The sheets were covered in stains from the two boys pleasuring themselves (and Bullet) feeding the hungers in their body. Frederique retrieved a basin and cloth and carefully washed the white crust from Bullet's belly and face, and between her legs.

The other three were not in the other room. Frederique knew where they must be. She took the other four plates and walked slowly toward the pool Jacob had found.

Upon hearing the sounds echoing up the gently sloping tunnel, her footsteps grew slower. Again, she knew the wisest path would be to turn around but her lust-clouded mind wouldn't let her.

She stood in the shadows watching them. They stood just above knee deep in the water. Jacob's cock was buried in Jessamine's throat...and Claude. Claude was taking Jessamine from behind. His great and beautiful cock was spearing her with long, elegant strokes. With each plunge into her, a high-pitched squeal escaped from her mouth gurgling around Jacob's cock.

Frederique still stayed in the darkness beyond the light of the lamp near the pool. Fearing she might drop it, she set the tray holding the plates down on the tunnel floor.

Something unusual was happening, too. The water was forming the oddest shapes; not waves, but bulges. Frederique peered more intently and noticed that the bulges grew with each of Claude's thrusts and as the intensity of the three-way sexual union grew, the water raised higher and higher.

She wondered if it could be Claude. With his flying skills he could be shape the water -- but the way the water was moving didn't look like something a flyer would do. A flyer shaped water from the outside. These shapes seemed to be coming from within.

She soon had her answer. The water began to form tendrils and shapes that began working their way up the boys' legs, caressing them. Jessamine's eyes flew wide when she saw the first tendrils reaching Jacob's hips.

"Wait," she said, pulling her mouth off of Jacob. Claude stopped, looking down at her curiously from his rear vantage point.

The water went splashing down to settle into stillness again.

"Was that..." she paused and looked at the water intently. Squinting her eyes Jessamine held out her hand and looked to the surface of the water. Magically, like the lady of the lake, a translucent hand emerged from the water.

"Oh boys, look," she cried excitedly. "I'm doing that. Me!"

The boys expressed their amazement, and Frederique had to suppress a giggle. It truly was a comical sight. Jessamine was still bent over with Claude buried deep inside of her. Jacob was still sporting his longs erection, now free of Jessamine's mouth. The three of them remained like that as Jessamine explored her savant-like gift, forming shapes with water ranging from flowers to faces.
"Goodness!" Jessamine cried, suddenly remembering what they had been up to. "Where were we? Hmm, Jacob, I think I have a nice surprise for you."

She made a gesture and a hand snaked out of the water, arm attached, and wrapped itself firmly around Jacob's 'javelin'.

"How does that feel?" she asked.

The watery hand was stroking him.

"So good," said Jacob. "It's like... with a woman, she's wet and slick in most places. This is wet and slick in all places."

"I'm glad you like it," she said.

"Oh, and watch this," said Jacob.

He started to disappear, but he kept the slightest amount of visibility and he looked like water himself, the dim light shining through his translucent shape.

"Now I match my mermaid lover in looks," he said.

"I'm glad," said Jessamine, "Ah!"

Claude had been waiting quite long enough. He had pulled back and slammed into Jessamine with a thrust that let her know he would wait no longer.

Surprisingly, the hand Jessamine had formed kept its shape, even with Claude's thrusting.

Frederique mused that yes, she had chosen well. To see one transform so beautifully, and then be so adept with their gift -- Jessamine would truly be an asset to their kind and would have no problem getting formal approval to join the Afflicted when the time came.

Frederique could not muse on the situation much longer though, because the lust-driven part of her mind eagerly and hungrily took control.

The sight of Claude pounding into Jessamine had her practically drooling with envy, wishing it were her. She could not help herself and her hand found its way downward. She lifted her dress and stepped out of her knickers. Dipping her finger into her moist folds, she used her own juices as lubrication and began rubbing the wonderful nub that she hoped would bring her some relief.

'Relief' however, was a relative term. As she watched Claude pummel Jessamine, she found herself gasping in time with each one of the young girl's moans. Surprisingly fast, an orgasm exploded in Frederique's body. She leaned against the side of the tunnel and closed her eyes, barely able to stand as the paroxysms shook her body.

When it finished, though, she felt more empty and hungry than she had before. She looked back to the young lovers. Jacob was no longer being serviced by a hand, but now a water doppelganger of Jessamine's face was wrapped around his cock and Frederique could see him pushing his way into the back of the liquid head's transparent throat -- and still Claude pummeled.

He pulled off of Jessamine and flipped her around... still, Jessamine was able to keep the watery figure intact for Jacob.

Claude held Jessamine by the hips and dropped her slowly down onto his shaft. She wrapped her arms around him and cried out with pleasure at the way his monstrous cock split her open from a new angle.

With Claude's abilities as a flyer, Jessamine was nothing more than a ragdoll, a weightless fucktoy. He lifted her weightless form up and down on his cock with rugged force and Jessamine screamed with pleasure as an orgasm ripped through her body though Claude showed no signs of slowing. By now Frederique was not surprised to see tender, watery hands reaching up to caress Claude's thighs as the two lovers fucked incessantly

A motion caught the corner of her eye. Jacob now seemed to be pistoning his hips, and Frederique saw that Jessamine had completed her watery doppelganger and it was bent over while the Jacob took her aqueous double from behind.

Frederique's hand began its efforts again...but it was not enough. She had the perfect angle to see her son's turgid member sliding into the young woman's dripping slit and the unreasonable biological forces were overriding any sensible notion in her head.

She slipped a finger into herself.

It wasn't enough.

She slipped in two.

Still, she yearned for more.

Now three, now four. She pushed her fingers into herself and moaned quietly. It was almost enough, the sharp sensation of her vagina being pulled wide. She started to fuck herself with all four digits, still timing it with her son's thrusts into his young lover.

She lifted her hand to her mouth and tasted her own juices. Her hand was now slick from her own lubrication and her saliva. She moved her hand back down, forming a sturdy knob with all four fingers and her thumb.

She had never done this. Not in six centuries of life and endless sex. She'd had friends who could take an entire hand, but even with the many well-endowed lovers she had accommodated (including her husband and her son), she had never been able to fit an entire hand into herself.

Now, she needed it. She pushed her hand in further. She gasped from the pain...but also from the pleasure. The pang of sensation as her hand stretched her impossibly wide was just the thing she needed... to make her forget.

Her tight muscles resisted a she pushed harder and harder. She gritted her teeth as the blissful agony grew and then --

"Mon dieu," she moaned quietly as the fullness of her hand inside of her rocked her senses.

Her hand was now completely inside of her and the sensation was overwhelming. With her other hand she began rubbing furiously at her clit as she moved her whole hand within her inner chamber, fisting herself into a haze of pleasure.

Even with the fierce and stupefying feelings her body was experiencing, she could not shake Claude from her mind. As she fucked herself with her balled up fist, she could only fantasize that it was his cock, grown to even larger proportions inside of her.

It still wasn't enough. Clinging to her last vestige of reason, she pushed for even more intensity. Now, she balled her fist and pulled slowly out until the knuckles of her elegant hand were rubbing against the painfully stretched outer regions.

Yet it wasn't painful, it was welcome. She was already stretched wide and the added sensation of her fist seemed to almost make her labia suck down on her hand.

Claude and Jessamine seemed near completion. Frederique sank to the dusty floor and started rubbing at her clit with a violent motion. Soon, she lifted her hand and started slapping her clit rhythmically as her fist moved ever so slightly.

For the piece de resistance she had one more trick up her sleeve. When Claude began to roar with his orgasm, she began twisting her hand. The ridges of her knuckles rippled over her taut nerves and she couldn't help but cry out as well. Her pussy clamped tighter and her glistening fist popped out.

She didn't need it any more. She fell completely over onto the ground and shook with uncontrollable spasms. Her moans went unnoticed as her voice mingled with the orgasmic cries of Claude and Jessamine.

Eventually, her orgasm subsided and she lay gasping on the floor, still moaning softly as the pain and pleasure of her self-induced encounter dwindled.

It was quite possible that she would have been discovered were it not for Jacob. He was still engaged with his watery lover, sliding with fluid motions in and out of its translucent cavern.

Claude and Jessamine were collapsed in the water.

"Oh finish, Jacob," purred Jessamine. "Finish yourself with my creation."

Jacob renewed his efforts and began thrusting faster and further into his watery lover. He benefited from Jessamine's full attention as well. Now that she could concentrate entirely on him, her aqueous creation took on even more lifelike attributes. The water in the cave was naturally warm. Not hot, but comfortable. Jacob felt the water around his cock grow warmer and it was as if there were more natural flesh-like ridges within which began massaging his cock as only the most skilled lover could do. He was even more surprised when two more lovers appeared and raised from the water to caress and kiss him. The trio of naiad creations soon proved too much for him and he gasped as his orgasm began.

His watery partner looked over her shoulder with loving smile as he pumped ounce after ounce of his enhanced system into her water chamber. It seemed there would be no end to his ejaculation... but there was also no end to the capacity of the water woman he'd been fucking. Within her, the white fluid pooled into a larger and larger ball. He finally finished, and while the two additional girls returned to the pool - his unique partner did not. Instead, she turned to give Jacob a (truly) wet kiss before walking seductively over to Jessamine.

"You know," she mused. "Before, my dreadful husband and the men in the whorehouse would want me to take their seed in my mouth. I always found it disgusting. Now, with these new skills, I am fascinated with everything to do with water or liquid in general. How thirsty I am right now."

She stepped up to her watery creation and pressed her lips to hers. A throat-like tube appeared in the creature's body and Jacob's white seed began streaming up into the mouth. Jessamine's kiss with her living statue deepened and she sucked deeply, letting his milky ejaculate flow into her own mouth and she drank deeply until she could handle no more. It was certainly one of the most unique cum-swapping experiences the world would ever see.

"Dinner!" cried Frederique's voice from the darkness.

In the interim, she had dusted herself off as best as she could and put herself into some sort of order.

"I'm sorry that it's cold," she said as she walked into view. "I had some things to attend to, but it should be quite tasty. Oh my goodness, look what you've done. That's quite a gift Jessamine."

"I certainly am pleased," said the young girl.

The four ate in relative silence. Frederique felt as if she was in a trance as she willed herself to constantly avert her eyes from Claude's still-naked form.

"Are you feeling well, mother?" he asked with concern, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"I'm fine," she said -- not wanting to admit how even that touch inflamed her senses.

"Please Aimée," she said in silent prayer. "Please get well and rescue me."

The problem was, she did not truly mean those words. All she could think of was herself and Claude stranded in the mine forever. Jessamine could have Jacob, she could have Claude, and the rest of their kind could be damned. He was all she needed.

"No," she chastised herself. "You have a husband and another child. You have saved your kind once and you will do so again. Focus!"

Yet, she needed something. Her well-exerted pussy was now fully recovered from her pyrotechnic pleasure and she was desperately longing for more.

"How," she wondered. "How will I get through this? I must have something."

At last, she decided on a plan.

Jessamine, would you come with me?" she asked.

"Of course," said Jessamine.

"You boys wait here," said Frederique.

When they were out of earshot of the boys, Jessamine began to babble on excitedly.

"Oh, they are both so wonderful, Frederique," she said. "Jacob is tall and... adorable. And Claude! Claude is just handsome beyond belief. And his thing! How wonderful it feels inside of me. When he's inside of me I can't even tell where I end and he begins. Is it wrong of me to hope? Is it wrong to hope that the other will be too late in reaching us and I can take one of them for my own?"

"Of course not," said Frederique. "It is... natural. Quite natural."

"Frederique, is it possible... no, that's selfish."

"What is it, my dear," asked Frederique.

"Is it possible that I could mate with them both? I just can't decide who I would rather have."

"Not very likely, dear," said Frederique. "The way Galen once explained it to me, the first mate is the strongest bond and it is very powerful in the first few days. Say, for example, if Jacob exchanged blood with you first. Your system would instantly start replicating his cells and they would fight off any others for the first few days. So, if Claude bit you even a minute later, your cells would reject them because Jacob's would already be winning. Of course, if you were to take another mate in a few months' time, it would be a different story. The problem is, we don't have months."

"I see," said Jessamine. "But listen to me babble on, what is it you needed?"

"My dear, let me tell you a story," said Frederique. "I once had a friend -- Nicole was her name. Nicole, Rosé. She was the most genteel, well-mannered woman one could ever meet. Well, at least until she was recruited by the Afflicted. Once Nikki joined us, she was still the model of propriety, except in the bedroom. As soon as she allowed herself to be taken by lust, she was an animal. Truly, she was almost impossible to control. Her lovers would emerge from their sessions happy, but cut and bruised. Eventually, it even became too expensive because her chambers would be in tatters by the time she was done. Steps had to be taken."

"What steps?" asked Jessamine, her eyes wide.

"Effective steps," said Frederique. "I need you to help me with such steps now. I need relief so desperately, but I also have to be contained. You will help me, won't you?"

"Of course," said the young woman.

* * * *

Aimée was on man number four, and she was back. Her first lover had been gentle and caring. She had taken him into her arms, with Abby riding another lover beside them. That first lover had finished and Aimée had purred as he filled her up with his warmth.

That lovemaking had begun the last of the healing. By the time she called the next lover in, she was beginning to feel her true energy return -- as well as her true hunger.

With her second lover she had chosen to be on top. She loved the feeling of control it gave her and she rode him with a furious pace. It was in that session that she felt the first true pangs begin. His name was Gerard, and she found her mind focusing on him.

"He would be a good mate," she'd thought. "If I take him now, all of this nonsense will be out of the way. We'll be happy together."

"Aimée!" had come Abby's mental warning. "Slowly. No mates today."

Aimée had opted to switch positions at that point, with Gerard on top of her, he was more in control and she was better able to surrender to the lust.

With the third, she and Abby had decided to take turns. Abby, too, had felt the frightening urges overwhelming her. With the two of them supporting each other, they were able to keep themselves in check. They would fuck one partner for perhaps a minute or so, and then switch to the other as soon as they felt bloodmating urges beginning.

Now she was mounting her fourth lover of the day. They had fucked through the daylight hours, feeding their hungry bodies. It did not help that this one, Klaus, was a strong, muscular flyer with a darker complexion. His biceps, especially, she mused, were much like Claude's.

He took her into the air. Any thought of going easy was over. Both Abby and Aimée knew that the young deplaceur was officially recovered. Like a sexual circus act in the air, she and Klaus put on a remarkable show in the vaulted bedchamber that had been built for a nobleman during the renaissance. Aimée had ridden his cock for a while, but had eventually decided to flip around. The two lovers pleasured themselves with each other's mouths in mid-air and when Aimée felt the red haze begin again Abby tripped Klaus's orgasm early. The salty fluid shooting down her throat brought her back to awareness and she gratefully descended to Abby's side.

"This is getting almost impossible," she murmured to Abby.

"Tell me about it," agreed the lovely redhead. "Let's pray that Jeannie and Louis return soon. Sundown will be here shortly."

* * * *

Franz was a tortured man. He had long ago vowed that if the likes of Jacinto should ever return, he would kill himself before letting his gifts be used against their kind. Yet here he was, bound to the Master's will. He was doing his work willingly, happily, but there was still that tiny compartment in his brain where his true self was screaming out in protest.

"How is it coming?" asked Arnet.

Arnet had decided to pay a personal visit to the lab. The reports from the streets were not good. The Afflicted were proving to be amazing fighters, and it seemed that Arnet's bond was a disadvantage. While those who were bound to him were unquestioningly loyal, they also were so obsessed with him that they made frequent errors in judgment.

After decades of waiting, Arnet's patience was finally beginning to wear thin. He was nearly ready to take New York, but he needed the full strength of the Afflicted to do so and hence move from there to Europe. Yet, every day, a few newly captured trickled in, while dozens of Afflicted who he had bound to him disappeared as prisoners.

"It is coming well, Master," said Franz. "I took the dampening projector I used on the young Empath and I expanded its range."

"Is it replicable?" asked Arnet.

"I have one now," said Franz. "But I can have you ten more within a day."

"Show me," said Arnet. "Show me the one."

Cora, as always, was with him.

"Cora," he ordered. "Stand over there, let's see how effective this is."

"But Master," she protested, "couldn't we use someone else? I wish to be at your side always."

"We have too many injured," he said. "Your gift is not all that useful in the field, so I can spare you for the hour or so it takes."

Cora stepped forward into the testing area. Franz lifted up a megaphone-looking device. In the end was a tiny transmitter. Just as the megaphone was meant to focus sound over a broader area, this device would also spread the effects of the dampening field - which had been strengthened to ten times the healthy dose.

"Now," said Arnet.

Franz pointed the cone at the sultry woman and turned a switch. The effect was not immediate, but within half a minute or so, she began to grow very pale. As it grew worse, she fell to her knees and moaned. At last, she began to wretch painfully. Her heaves continued long after Arnet had turned off the switch.

"Time her," Arnet said to an assistant. "See how long it is before her gift returns."

A miserable Cora was led off to an isolated cell.

"Are you pleased, Master?" asked Franz.

"Very," said Arnet. "Give me this one and we'll field test it right away. Keep working on the other devices."

* * * *

Frederique had removed her clothes and prepared the single bed in the room. She did not want it to happen on a bunk, she wanted the extra space above.

Claude watched with hunger in his eyes. She knelt on the bed, and then fell forward onto her hands and knees.

She could feel Claude's gaze on her round hips and her exposed pussy below. She moved, just slightly, to give him an even better view.

"Bind me," Frederique said to Jessamine. "This is what we used to do with Nikki, and she never had any complaints."

Jessamine retrieved the handcuffs.. Frederique closed her eyes and her body shivered with pleasure as she felt the cold metal close around her wrists, and then attach to the iron headboard.

"Jacob, attend to Claude," Frederique ordered.

Claude felt Jacob behind him. His friend's strong arms reached around and Claude saw the rope. He willingly took it into his mouth and waited patiently as Jacob tied it firmly. Claude was now gagged for the primary reason of not allowing him to use his teeth to take his mother as a mate.

"I will be safe, I think," said Frederique. "But we must assure that you are as well. We can't tell what you might try in the heat of passion, my son."

Claude nodded in agreement.

"Now please," she said in a pleading tone. "Help me. I'm suffering so desperately. I know that none of us can last much longer in this situation, but this might just buy us enough time."
Claude went to the bed to kneel behind his mother. When he did, Jacob took the leg irons and tied Claude's ankles to the bed -- assuring that he also could not escape.

Claude wanted desperately to kiss her ass and her back, to taste her amazing flesh with his tongue and lips. As it was, he had to satisfy himself with her flesh alone. He pushed his bulbous head against her already-drenched opening and she gasped as the first of his wonderful cock found its way within her.

"That's it, my boy," she moaned. "Let me feel you, oh god, please let mother feel you."

Claude did as she ordered willingly. It was even worse than before when she had tried to soothe him in the days prior.

"Oh god, I love you in my cunt," she moaned.

Such language from his mother made the blood in his ears boil. He pushed into her further, going deeper and deeper in until he felt her warm interior resist his thrust.

"Again, but harder," she moaned. "Fuck me, Claude, I need this."

He pulled back and pushed in again, faster this time. She yelped with painful joy when he bottomed out.

"Again," she hissed.

He did, one, two, three, five times he pulled back and hurled his battering ram of a cock into her.

"Unchain me," she said suddenly. "It's alright, Jessamine, this is what we need to do."

Her eyes looked to Jessamine imploringly. Frederique knew this wasn't reason talking, but she had to have him.

"No Frederique," said the young woman, "you yourself ordered this. Just finish and you will be better afterward, I promise."

"Fine!" Frederique said in an annoyed tone, raspy with lust. "Just take me, Claude. Take me, my son. Fill your mother's cunt with your white seed."

Claude did just that. He began thrusting once more and how he did shake the bed and Frederique's body.

She could feel her breasts below her. With each thrust, her large and legendary breasts shook below her. Countless statues of her had been constructed, and though they all displayed her ample cleavage, none could have ever captured the fluid motions that rippled through them as a man shook her from behind.

She started to meet his thrusts and they moved together. Now her breasts not only rippled, but swung pendulously, slapping against her chest and nearly to her chin with each stroke.

"Fuck me," she growled. "Fuck me, Claude. Fuck me harder, oh god I need this! Oh please!"

Claude would have joined in the dirty conversation, too, had he been allowed. As it was, he could only moan out his agreement and grunt lustfully with each collision of their hips.

The orders had been for Jacob and Jessamine to stand at the ready with dampeners. That was not exactly what happened. The dampeners were there, and Jacob and Jessamine were there, but at-the-ready... not quite. Within a minute of Frederique's torrid and stunning dialog they had sought each other out. Jacob sat in a chair and Jessamine lifted her skirt and lowered herself down upon him, so they could enjoy each other, but both still watch (and somewhat guard) Frederique and Claude.

The first orgasm was unlike any Frederique had ever known. It was a combination of lust, rage, and frustration. Her mouth opened in hunger as the climax started into her, but what the mouth wanted she couldn't reach.

"Come to me," she cried, even as her body began to shake. "Come down and let me taste your neck."

It would have been a difficult reach anyway, but Claude found he couldn't even obey her. Jacob's rope was not just a loop, but a full lariat, the end of which was tied at the perfect length to the bunk. Claude could not bend his head any more than a foot or so toward his mother's perfect neck and body.

"Please!" cried Frederique. "Please, take me!"

Claude wanted nothing more than to take her for his own, but he had no other choice than to continue as he'd been doing. The orgasm in Frederique grew and she was soon beyond pleading to Jessamine, or Claude. A frightful, guttural, orgasmic growl emitted from her throat and she bucked fiercely against her bonds.

She was a flyer. Her body lifted up and she pulled back angrily against the handcuffs. Her orgasm and her anger were merged into one -- like a beast her mating instinct was one with her passion.

Yet, the bonds would not yield. As strong as she was, the restraints chosen by the Afflicted were of ample strength for nearly any situation. As strong as she was, cast iron and forged steel was more than a match for her.

But her wrists were a different story. As she pulled angrily at them, they dug deeply into her flesh and a trickle of blood began to drip down from where the sharp steel touched her.

She had been the first to fully succumb. The scent of her blood was what sent Claude into the hopeless abyss of instinct.

Roaring through the rope which gagged him, he tried to drop his head down closer to her, but the rope drew tight. Not having any other choice, he simply kept fucking. He pulled back his hips and began slamming into his mother. If he could not have her to mate, he would at least own her as a lover -- completely and entirely.

"Yes! Fuck! Me!" cried Frederique with each slap of his hips against her. "Fuck me, son. Fuck your mama's cunt!"

He desperately wanted to cum. It was his only desire in the world. He began sliding in and out as fast as he could. Both of their hips were a blur.

Another climax attacked her system and she was once again reduced to animalistic moans.

Claude pushed in and out. It was time. He wanted to cum, to paint her insides and outsides with his white seed -- but something was blocking him. He could not achieve release.

Even though he could physically feel the fluid built up in his system, his body would not cut loose. It had not seemed possible that he could thrust any harder, but he did, and Frederique's cries echoed through the tunnels as he tortured her with endless orgasmics.

Finally he was forced to rest. His heart seemed to be beating out of his chest and his muscular torso was glistening with perspiration. Beads of his sweat were rolling off of his nose and chin to fall and mingle with the droplets on his mother's back.

He was ready to quit. He was ready to pull back and surrender, feeling his orgasm would never come -- but then he felt a sudden swelling.

"Oh Claude, what are you doing?" cried Frederique. "Oh, it feels so marvelous, so... Ooohhh! How it is splitting me open."

Claude in fact, was not 'doing' anything, not voluntarily. However, in an odd, rarely heard of response to his frustration, his cock had done something akin to the mating rituals of the Night Foxes, those animals who had first infected their kind.

His already stunning member had grown.

Two inches or so above where he entered her, his cock had swollen to much larger proportions and he could not pull out. He had somehow grown a vulpine knot. There was only one thing that would let him out -- and that was a climax. Further, there was only one thing that would allow him to climax -- and that was a mate, a bloodmate. His body's needs had been put off too long, and his system had reverted to the base animal mechanisms which drove it.

He tried to pull out, and as he did, he yanked Frederique back toward him. He pushed forward again, and his cock relaxed, letting him slide in further. It was only when he tried to escape his mother's glistening canal that his cock served as a brake.

"Do it," growled Frederique. "Do your best and take me, you stunning beast."

Their fucking was now not rapid, nor slow. It was rhythmic and insistent. First five minutes, and then ten minutes, then a half hour and an hour, Claude shattered his mother's body with fervor and bliss.

At the hour and a half mark, Frederique looked to Jessamine imploringly.

"We will die soon," she moaned. "His -- oh -- body -- ooh- won't let -- ahh- him surrender -- ooooohh -- without me."

There was no way of counting Frederique's orgasms, they had all merged into one continuous wave of sublime pleasure.

Claude, too, was not exactly suffering. Though he had not been able to physically cum, he had experienced many, many orgasm-like sensations in the epic coupling.

Jacob and Jessamine had been busy themselves. Jessamine was surprised to look down and see a pool of cum at her feet, from the second time Jacob had filled her without losing any firmness or vigor.

"I think it's time," Jacob whispered into Jessamine's ear. "We can't wait any more. If they go much longer, they will surely die from exhaustion."

Jessamine, showing remarkable flexibility, flipped around in Jacob's lap, lifting her leg over him and ending up facing him, without ever removing him from within her.

"I'll agree, but on one condition," she said, kissing him hungrily.

"What's that?"

"That I get you, too."

"Agreed," he said.

"I'll get the keys," she said. She had intentionally left them in the front office to avoid the temptation of using them too early.

"I'll untie him," said Jacob.

While Jessamine went for the keys, Jacob tried to untie the rope which bound Claude. It was harder than he expected. Claude's struggles had tightened the knot firmly and Jacob saw that the quickest route would be a knife.

Through all of their conversation, Frederique and Claude had been unaware. They only knew one thing now: each other. With rhythmic, almost machine-like thrusts, they pounded into each other.

"Fuck. Me. Fuck. Me," moaned Frederique again and again.

Just then, Claude felt a tender hand on his shoulder.

"Let go," said a voice, "it is not time yet. Surrender."

The voice seemed to speak not only to his mind, but to his tortured system. He felt the knot in his cock go down and the haze in his mind release. Whatever dam had been blocking his cum from flowing was now gone. The knot in his cock receded he knew it was time.

He was also freed from the rope. He'd heard a blade whizzing through the air and his mouth and head were suddenly free.

"Yes!" cried Claude. "Now!"

He slammed into Frederique with full force once more. Then a second time, and on the third he cried out with relief as a fountain of cum finally flowed out of him. One burst after another flowed into Frederique and when she could contain no more, he pulled his massive and purpled cock out and let it spray with abandon over her. Her hair, her back, every inch of her lovely posterior was soon coated in her son's pent-up seed.

Jacob and Jessamine had met each other in the tunnel and when they'd heard Claude's cry. Dashing in, they were met with a wonderful sight. Aimée and Abby were standing beside the bed, watching in bemused fascination as Claude poured himself into, and over his mother.

"Girls!" cried Jacob.

Both of them ran to Jacob, hugging and kissing him joyfully.

A somewhat disappointed Jessamine quickly surmised the situation and walked over to the bed to unlock the cuffs. Claude had fallen exhaustedly onto Frederique, caring nothing about the sticky film between them.

Once they were reunited with Jacob, Abby rushed to the bed and put a hand upon both of the unconscious occupants.

"They are both fine," she said quietly. "Jeannie told me how I might soothe them temporarily, I've done all I can. Let's just leave them to sleep for a little while -- I could feel them from half a world away, I can't imagine how exhausted they are."

Perhaps half an hour later, Frederique woke up to see her daughter watching her with a bemused expression.

She looked up and gave a joyful gasp.

"Aimée!" she whispered. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, how about yourself, mother? Tired? Wet?"

"Oh hush," said Frederique.

She pushed out from beneath her son and stood up. It seemed the girls had anticipated her needs and were waiting with a basin of warm soapy water, two cloths, and a change of clothes.

"My, my, I feel like a queen with two girls attending to me so," said Frederique as Aimée and Abby washed her carefully.

"You deserve it," said Abby. "You resisted where few could have. You should be applauded."

"It wasn't easy," said Frederique. "Aimée, not a word of this to your father."

"Of course not, mother," said Aimée. "Oh, would you look who is up?"

Claude had rolled over and was met by the sight of his two young lovers bathing his voluptuous older lover.

"You're here!" he cried. "I thought it was you, but nothing seemed real at all."

"Come here," said Abby, "you need to get cleaned up, too."

She started to wash him down, but he stopped her hand.

"Abby," murmured Claude. "I think it might be best to let me take care of this myself unless you wish to mate with me this very instant."

Another girl might have been hurt, but Abby instantly understood. Frederique was still in the room, being washed down by Claude's lover-sister. His system was fiercely attuned to all three of the women in the room and his wakneturst was barely suppressed, and that only thanks to Abby's input.

"Yes of course," said Abby. "Here."

She handed the cloth to Claude and he washed himself off. When he had reached all of the spots he could, Abby gingerly washed his back.

"Where are Jacob and Jessamine?" asked Claude.

"Jessamine ran off crying," said Aimée coldly. "It seems she ready to take Jacob to mate before we popped in and spoiled the party. He's trying to calm her down."

"Jealousy doesn't become you," said Abby softly. "I should remind you that both of us know what it is like to have a mate snatched away at the last moment."

"That's true," said Aimée, reluctantly, "and I must admit she is a remarkably lovely girl. So, I will give her the benefit of the doubt. Now, as for you mother, we must get you dressed."

Aimée reached into a small travelling satchel they had arrived with and pulled out some opulent red fabric. Frederique cried out in excitement.

"Where did you get it?" she said. "I had meant to have that retrieved once we settled in.

"You forget your daughter is a deplaceur ," said Aimée. "After seeing all of the paintings and statues of you wearing this, it occurred to me that you might want to wear this for another battle, yes?"

"Oh, yes, I would!" Frederique said. "You went to the old place in Morocco? How was it?"

"Dusty," said Aimée. "Mostly, it was sad and empty without our family."

The girls brought clothes for Claude as well. Aimée and Abby left to find the other two, and Claude found himself alone with his mother. He could not help but glance as she carefully laced up the bodice of her dress, pushing her wonderful breasts into view.

She was a woman and a warrior. As she put on the crimson battle dress, there could be no doubt of either. Claude had seen three illustrations of that very dress rippling in the breeze as his mother sailed toward the last mortal enemy the Afflicted had faced. Taking in her loveliness, he had confidence that she could quite likely save the Afflicted once again.

"Claude. Claude!" said Frederique.

He had been lost in the revelry of her legend... and the sight of her bosom standing so proud and tempting before him.

"Claude, dear," she said softly. "I want to tell you something. I know how close we were to taking each other. I must tell you that I have no shame. As complicated as it might have been to have you as a mate while I was still bound to your father, I would have been honored all the same. To have as strong, and as handsome, and as gifted a bloodmate as you would be an honor for anyone. Come here, my boy."

She pulled him into a tender and dizzying kiss.

"Oh my," she whispered. "If not now, maybe someday."

Footsteps approached and she gently pushed him away. The four others entered the room.

Doubtless with the assistance of Abby's empathic skills, Jessamine now looked much calmer -- though certainly not happy.

"It is time," said Frederique with grim determination. "Time to join the battle."

"Take us first," continued Frederique, indicating Jessamine. "I need to get back to my husband's side. I really, really need to get back to his side as soon as I can."

They all understood her meaning very well. Abby and Aimée took the other women's hands in theirs.

"Now we find Palo," said Abby. "Think of him, Aimée. Think of your father."

Aimée did and with surprising ease, Abby sent a 'spot' to Aimée's mind. A second later, they were standing beside Palo, Scaurus, Hypatia, and Seiko. Deplaceur alarms were going off and all four had weapons out, which they lowered upon seeing the arrivals.

"Palo!" cried Frederique.

She rushed to him and hugged him fiercely, showering kisses on his face and lips.

"Umm, what do you think of Arnet?" asked Palo.

"He's a dog and a monster," said Frederique. "But you! You are a sight for sore eyes."

"We'll get the boys now and make this reunion complete," said Abby.

She and Aimée winked back out and into the mine.

They took the boys hands in theirs and Aimée focused once more. Having just been there, the fix was easy to get.

"What do you say?" said Jacob. "This might be our last chance. Off to Morocco, or Alaska... wait this thing out together, as mates?"

"As if you would do such a thing," said Abby. "You could never let our kind down, especially the cadets."

"True," said Jacob with his usual wry grin. "But if I don't take someone to mate soon, old Claude here and I might soon be quite the fetching couple."

"Soon, dear one," said Abby. "But first we have a fight."

Aimée focused in on her mother this time, but just as she was about to jump -- a strange vision suddenly popped into her head. It was of a glade and torches in the distance. Unbidden, she found herself taking them to exactly that place.

The group looked around in confusion.

"This isn't New York," said Claude.

"Aimée, I was only joking," said Jacob. "Come on now, take us home."

"I didn't take us here," she said, quite seriously. "I mean, I did, but it wasn't what I wanted. It was like my mind made me."

"Well take us away," said Abby, "get us out of here -- back to the mine, or to the Academy, or wherever."

Aimée tried, but she found every time she tried to focus on a location, her mind went skipping away. She was perfectly lucid in every other sense, but when she tried to jump her mind refused.

"I can't," she said in a panic. "I can't get anywhere."

"Welcome," said a deep and resonant voice. "I am the father of the girl you know as Glennis. We are about to begin a feast in her honor, and you are our honored guests."

"We can't," said Aimée. "We have to get back to our people."

"No, you don't," said Loenshellen. "Not tonight. There will be time. Follow me, the Elders are waiting."






CHAPTER 15



Frederique, Palo, and company waited patiently outside for Aimée to return with Brana. In New York, Palo, Scaurus, Seiko, and company had made great progress, but now, with Aimée's deplacing abilities, they looked very forward to mounting an even more efficient campaign against Arnet.

When a few minutes passed, they began to suspect something was amiss. Then, Frederique and Palo both turned to each other with concerned looks in their eyes.

"Did you see it, too?" asked Palo.

"I did," she said, sadly.

"What?" asked Jessamine. "What has happened?"

The newly-turned Afflicted girl was feeling particularly vulnerable. Only a few days before, she had been ready to live out her limited days in an Arizona whorehouse. Now, she was healed of syphilis and blessed with remarkable powers -- but she found herself in the midst of a secret war among an unknown race and a madman of whom she had only heard whispers. Now, her two lovers had been whisked away.

"They won't be coming back any time soon," said Frederique. "It was another one of those picture messages, but it wasn't from Abby. I think it was from the people Glennis belongs to."
Palo wore a concerned look. "All I saw was them in the woods, and the gist of the message was that they were among friends... and that they wouldn't be returning for an indeterminate amount of time."

"Fat load of good that does us," said Scaurus, cursing. "One deplaceur - one bloody deplaceur at our disposal and she's 'safe'. I don't give a shit about 'safe', we need a fucking deplaceur! I was sure we were about to turn the tide."

"There's nothing to be done about that now. I'll get to Brana," said Frederique. "We'll start with the cadets, get them organized for the fight, and work our way out from there."

Moments later the legendary heroine was standing at the entrance to the underground mansion. She was dressed in form-fitting, black and red battle leather. Every curve and every muscle of Frederique's body was magnified by the reinforced leather. Made by the finest craftsmen of the Afflicted, it would even serve as protection against blades. Only her exposed cleavage and neck were at risk from any darts.

"What about there?" asked Palo, pointing to the heart-shaped cut-out which revealed her fulsome breasts.

"Palo dear," she said, "I am Frederique. I have a reputation to uphold -- and an image to keep. Besides, there will be no darts getting near me."

"Let me come with you," said Palo. "My flying has improved immensely, ask Scaurus."

Scaurus put a reassuring hand on Palo's shoulder.

"I would put you up against the finest flyer among the Afflicted," said Scaurus. "But there are our finest, and there is Frederique. I would pit her against the North Wind - but it wouldn't be a fair fight. Poor wind, how sadly it would fail."

The upward hatch was opened and a black streak sailed across the night sky. At the same moment, Arnet, in his stronghold to the north, felt a chill on his neck. He had good reason. Frederique had come to the fight.

* * * *

Aimée, Claude, Abby, and Jacob followed the man who led them into the clearing. There were torches set around the edges and in the center was a brightly glowing fire. Curiously, around the fire were several smiths who were attending to different mounds of coals and had anvils and hammers ready.

There were perhaps ten smiths and they were made up of an even mix of men and women.

Gathered around the clearing were hundreds of people. All of them were fair of skin, like Glennis, and they were all youthful in appearance. Yet, they were not young. (As one often noticed among the Afflicted, the eyes of the more long-lived people reflected the experience of many more years than the average human had ever seen.) Some stood, but most sat on their own chairs which were placed around the clearing in a pattern of intricate, yet indecipherable design.

The four were led to some chairs near the fires and it was indicated that they should sit. There were seven chair and they were shown the four which were meant for them.

Drums began to pound and music began. The players held implements which ranged from violins to lutes, from horns to recorders -- many of the instruments were of an origin none of the four had ever seen. In fact, no mortals or Afflicted had ever been witness to such music.

As the music reached full tempo, the smiths removed molten hunks of metal and began pounding in time with the beat. What they were making was soon forgotten. The cadence of the music changed and, as one, everyone assembled in the clearing rose and faced to the North as a procession entered.

There were delicate banners festooned with ornate lace and weavings. Four on each side bore a splendid canopy under which walked a gorgeous assemblage, at the heart of which walked Glennis.

Glennis had always had a regal, ethereal bearing about her, but now, begowned in white satin, her hair piled high in in ornate arrangements, and a delicate jeweled tiara in her hair, she was every inch a princess from the fairy tale books.

The procession continued and the canopy reached the four Afflicted. Glennis nodded to each of them with a smile and then sat down in her appointed chair. The poles which held the canopy were placed in pre-made holes in the ground. As they settled into their resting points, the edges of the canopy fell, leaving them obscured behind a curious mesh. The fires beyond the nearly-transparent glimmered through the fabric.

"Stand," ordered a woman whom they did not yet know to be a mother of Glennis. "You must be prepared for the feast."

Two of the fair ones kind stepped up to each of their garments. Though they were in plain sight of those in the tent and likely visible to those beyond, there was something in the manner of the people with them that made them lose any trace of self-consciousness.

Aimée smiled at the man and woman who removed her clothes. They gave her polite nods in return as they removed every trace of clothing. The woman picked up a bowl of what looked to be soap foam and began lathering it over Aimée's entire body from her neck downward. It tingled, and almost burned in a way, but not with any discomfort. The man took another sort of foam and began massaging into her scalp. When they were done, another attendant arrived with a bucket of warm water and poured it over Aimée's head. The water washed the suds from her hair and poured down over her body, removing the foam. Her hair was now glistening and her body had never felt so clean. She looked down to discover it was indeed 'clean'. Not a trace of hair remained anywhere on her body below her neck. The same had happened to the other four and they looked to each other with bemused expressions over what was being done to them.

Abby's own attendant toweled her hair and they began to braid it on either side.

"You may use my eyes," said the woman, with surprising understanding.

The woman touched her hand to Abby's temple and the blind girl could suddenly see what the woman saw. Surprisingly, Abby could feel nothing else. Usually, when she borrowed other's senses she could detect other emotions and often would pick up on memories. With this woman, it was the sight alone. This was much like what Abby had done with Yusef in her recent confinement.

Abby watched the woman's deft fingers braiding wonderful patterns into her hair. 'French' braid was an understatement, for the patterns the woman wove in Abby's locks had clearly been perfected over centuries. Parts of the braid were in the five weave, parts in a seven, and all in intricate loops and curls.

"You have lovely hair," said the woman. "It is the perfect thickness for our patterns.."

The boys were getting their own treatment, their hair being combed and gently trimmed.

As their hair was being finished, four attendants arrived with beautiful chests akin to what we might call steamer trunks. The containers themselves were the work of master craftsmen. None of the four could suppress a gasp when the lids of the casks were removed. Within the chests were garments of such fine make that the cloth alone was more beautiful than anything any of them had ever seen.

Their attendants began dressing them. Undergarments first, piled on by an inner layer, then another, and a final outer lay of clothing. Each layer by itself was substantial, but together the clothing was heavy. It wasn't a bad sort of heavy though, it gave them a similar emotional feeling as one might feel with a heavy quilt on a cold winter's night. It was protective and well-made.

Aimée's skin thrilled at the luxurious feel of the opulent clothing against her skin. She looked at the others and saw they wore involuntary grins from the feeling as well. These were not princely, nor even kingly robes. These were clothes built by the finest craftsmen the world had ever known. Even the finest work of the most talented Afflicted paled in comparison.

The curious thing about their new clothing is that it was not formal in purpose. Aimée had been given a deep blue dress with high boots. She felt more beautiful than she ever had in her life, but she knew that if she were in a race or battle, she would be able to move easier than in any clothes she had ever owned. Abby was likewise attired, though her dress was of a light green. Claude was dressed in a crimson doublet and black trousers, and Jacob had been given an outfit of dark green.

When the four were fully clothed, a separate smith approached each of them. Jacob and Claude were given wristbands with intricate patterns and countless jewels. The girls were given more delicate bracelets.

Curiously, there were still two empty chairs. The smiths set a wristband on each of the chairs, each one more generic in make -- as though the sex of the recipient was unknown. They noticed that there were small suitcases for clothes on each of the chairs as well. Before they had much time to ruminate on the missing players in this curious chess game, the music stopped.

Glennis, unbidden, stood. The tent walls rolled back up again and they looked around to see that all of the hundreds who had gathered there were now standing. The man who had met them beyond the clearing stood at the center of the entire gathering and raised his hand for attention.

"A welcome," he said. "A welcome to all of our kind, in this, our first full gathering in the new world. A welcome to our four guests, Abby, Aimée, Claude, and Jacob -- four bright stars among the newer, remarkable race who call themselves The Afflicted. Finally, a welcome to my daughter Shoenweil. As the heavens decreed, she left us as a child, but returns now -- confirmed as a bringer of destiny -- for good or for bad."

"I am Loenshellen," he said. "It falls on me to tell the story."

"We shall hear the story," said the gathered people as one. "We shall hear it and learn it again."

It occurred to Claude at that moment that the man was not speaking English or French. Yet, he understood him perfectly. It also occurred to him that Loenshellen was not speaking loudly, yet the hundreds gathered around them heard every word.

He listened more closely to his words and realized his words were going out to people's minds.

"Now sit," said Loenshellen, "for when the tale is told, it is told completely. It is a long story and I will not stop until I have completed the tale."

Everyone returned to their seats and he bade the five honored guests to sit as well.

Loenshellen bowed his head and prepared. A hush fell over the crowd. The story was about to begin. He lifted his head and spoke:

"In the beginning, we were one people. In the place now called Mesopotamia, on the great rivers of the Tigris and Euphrates, all the people lived."

"Those were times of peace. Food was plentiful and possessions were few. Man dwelt in the sun with few cares. Even the beasts and the serpents were happy. Man knew of them and befriended the peaceful ones, and avoided those who might harm us."

"Eventually, things changed. Leaders became chiefs and chiefs became kings. Kings spawned greed, and greed produced war. Many stayed and fought, but an unhappy few did not wish to watch the sad state man had descended to. "

"Those few left. They left that land travelled to the north. As they travelled it became colder and food became less plentiful. They learned to hunt and eat the meat of their prey, as well as make clothing from the skins of the animals they had regretfully slain. Further and further north they travelled. Children were born on the journey and parents passed on from age. Over hundreds of years they worked their way northward. At last our people found a beautiful valley. It was not full of eternal summer, nor was it perfect. Life there was hard, but food was plentiful enough and great homes were built from the trees which stood as tall as fifty men. The water there, especially, was clear and refreshing."

"For many years the people dwelt at peace in the valley and they prospered. They still kept the tales of the old home alive, however, and the tales were told every year, just as I am telling you our tale tonight."

"One year, during the telling, a surprising discovery was made. The storyteller was relating the tale of the journey to the valley, and the death of the parents. His tale was interrupted by a young girl who asked why the people had died."

"He replied that they had died from old age, at which point the girl asked what old age was. "

"The storyteller paused and at that moment they all realized the truth of the matter. In all of their time in the valley, only three people had perished; one from an accident, and two from attacks of the great bears that lived in the valley. The storyteller counted and was astonished to learn he was well over a hundred years old, but he was not bent, nor were any among them."

"They continued to live and flourish. Years passed into generations, generations passed into centuries. Ours was a peaceful existence."

"After countless generations, we began to miss our brethren from our ancestral home and it was decided that a party should be sent out to retrace our steps from long past. Twenty went out, and I was among them. For nearly a century our people in the valley waited and when we returned it was with more stories of war, greed, and abuse of the gifts of the planet.

"A few of our kind returned with mates from beyond. They were saddened to discover that those we brought back did not gain the ability to live forever as we had, nor did their children. Whatever had been in the water or the soil when we arrived at the valley had dwindled, and now only ourselves and children of our kind would be immortal."

"It was then that we began to call ourselves the Elders -- a race of men who had seen more of man's history than any others. We resolved then to set ourselves apart from mankind. We would observe from afar, but for the most part we resolved to dwell in our valley and seek to improve ourselves. With time and patience we began to discover the potential of the human mind and form. A few of us learned that we had the gift of flight (which is so common among your kind), others discovered the ability to levitate objects and from there the list goes on: reading minds; shaping metal; reading the stars; and on and on."

"We established outposts among the mortals and watched their wars and conflicts with sadness. In various nations of man, we saw women rise to positions of power and scholarship, only to be subjugated once more by ensuing generations."

"Eventually, mortals began to encroach upon our valley, though we put up wards around it to push them away. It became too much of a burden and we moved -- settling in a lovely valley in the land you know as Wales. Our time there was peaceful and fruitful. We gained knowledge in the arts and the sciences and still we studied the stars."

"It was in Wales that we saw the birth of your race. Though your hungers disturbed us, we were fascinated by your powers and your potential. We were pleased to see your kind evolve. However, we remained cautious as to what direction your path might take and we chose to remain unknown to you."

"Then, the sign came. From a great distance, our astronomers saw two comets approaching our system. One foretold that we would need to leave our valley in Wales and venture forth to the new world of America. The other carried dire portents. It told of a child of our kind who would be bound to leave our care at a terribly young age. The signs told us she would be safe and would flourish... and that she would find friends among the hungry race."

"The signs in the stars indicated a time of great peril to come, and that our child would play a great role in those times. Further, they pointed to the constellation known as the Pleiades - six stars in the heavens visible to naked eye, and a seventh obscured but no less important."

"We knew the names of the stars: The Elder, the Bird, the Blind Caretaker, the Spirit, the Grasshopper, and the Mechanic. The seventh, the hidden star, we still do not know its identity."

"Tonight, we welcome you. You are five of the seven in our prophecies. Our beloved daughter, Glennis, is the Elder of whom the prophecy spoke. Of that there is no doubt. The others among you are fairly self-explanatory. The Blind Caretaker is Abby, the Spirit is Jacob who can make himself invisible like a ghost. The Bird is Claude, who can soar in the skies, and the Grasshopper is Aimée, who can jump where she wishes about the planet. As for the mechanic and the unknown one, we do not know nor is it our lot to decipher. It will fall to you five to find the two missing from your number. That is the tale of the Elders and our path on this planet. The time draws nigh for you to fulfill your destiny. Succeed or fail, we are on the brink of monumental events."

The five listeners blinked and looked around at each other, stretching their limbs. The story, as described above, is merely an overview. The entire tale had taken Loenshellen many, many hours to tell and had described every episode in great detail. The telling had not been only the words of Loenshellen, but images as well. All who were gathered there had seen hundreds, if not thousands of images and scenes from the history of the Elders as he spoke. The sides of the tent were now being lowered. The sun was rising, but the four Afflicted realized they had nothing to fear. Even though they could see the rays of the bright, ascending orb, the mesh surrounding them would filter anything harmful to them.

"Loenshellen," asked Abby, "You said 'succeed or fail', what did you mean by that?"

"Caretaker, Abby, it is time now to explain the chore ahead of you," said Loenshellen in a very serious tone. "We have watched our kind with curiosity and concern. The stars ordained that we were not to interfere or interact with the progress of the Afflicted until the greatest crisis occurred. We quite nearly stepped in during your last war with the one known as Jacinto, but the woman Frederique averted that disaster before we had to interfere. Jacinto's son, it seems, is fulfilling the prophecy his father began. He is threatening the balance of the very planet and we have grave concerns."

"What do you plan to do about those concerns?" asked Claude. "It is obvious you are a powerful race. What will you do if Arnet does gain full control?"

"You are a perceptive young man," said Loenshellen. "I will confess to you that we have often wrestled with the decision surrounding what to do with the Afflicted. There were many times in the early days where, just as your kind debated over the fate of the clockmaker, we wrestled with letting your kind continue. "

"As a rule, we do not interfere with other beings upon our planet. However, the Afflicted came as a surprise in both your powers, your rapid growth, and your potential dangers. It has often been debated whether we should let your kind continue."

"Wait," said Aimée, "what do you mean, continue?"

"I mean just that," said Loenshellen, "it is not our wish to do such a thing, but if we should combine our powers, we are capable of eradicating the Afflicted from existence. Arnet is the final test of your kind. The stars have ordained that if Arnet should triumph, your kind will have failed the final test and it will fall to us to eradicate the Afflicted once and for all."

"But why?" asked Jacob. "There is so much good in us."

"There is no good in anything being controlled by one being or force. Should Arnet triumph, his strain will pass down through his children and this planet will become an ugly place. We cannot let that happen. So, the task falls to the seven who have been foreordained. The five of you here, and the two remaining who are yet to be found. You will soon join the battle and should you fail, your kind will be erased. You must understand that we are the interpreters of prophecies and the adjudicators of the outcome. While we truly hope that you triumph, the signs decree that we cannot interfere in the final battle. You may win, or you may lose, but we can only watch and wait at the ready. "
The four Afflicted youths looked at each other in fear. They never could have imagined such responsibility would be placed on their shoulders.

"We will now prepare you for battle," said Loenshellen. "There is an ancient prophecy which we still struggle to understand. 'When four make five and search for seven, the final choice tells hell or heaven.' You are the four, my daughter is the fifth, and we will prepare you as well as we can. What we know is the sixth and seventh of your number will be key in determining the outcome."

* * * *

"I get to be pincushion!" insisted Jackie. "Petra has done it three times in a row, it's my turn."

Frederique watched in with amusement. The cadets had explained the unique strategy they had happened upon.

A decoy was sent in wearing the padded suit and mask. They would fly into the midst of a group of Arnet's followers and allow dart after dart to be shot into them. Once the decoy was sure the majority of weapons had been ejected, the rest of the cadets would swoop in and attack.

"That's a wonderful strategy," Frederique exclaimed with approval. "I think we should give Jackie her turn -- but I also think I should go in as a decoy."

"But we only have one suit," argued Oppo. "If you wish to wear it, we wouldn't say no, but..."

"I won't need a suit," said Frederique. "Just let me go in and draw more of their fire. With two targets, we'll empty their weapons more completely."

"But..." argued Brana.

"Trust me," said Frederique. "Now let's go wreak some havoc."

A few minutes later, they were waiting in doorways and windows, on rooftops and chimneys as a squadron of Arnet's followers approached.

"Are you sure about this?" asked Jackie. She and Frederique were waiting patiently in the middle of the street."

"Absolutely dear," said Frederique. "I have been hiding for decades. I long for this fight."

Two advanced guards turned the corner and gave a shout of warning. At least fifty mortals appeared within moments, as did several Afflicted fliers and others who kept to the edges of the larger group.

"It's her," cried one of the Afflicted. "It is Frederique herself. The master will be so pleased!"

"Come and get me then," called Frederique. "Let's not waste any time."

She flew into the air and a great cry rose from the throats of the enemy, fearing that she might escape them.

Dart after dart flew toward Frederique, and their aim was surprisingly good. However, Frederique had no fear. Since facing Bullet in the mine, she had discovered a new level of awareness. She had been fierce and amazing in the prior war against Arnet's father, Jacinto. But now, she knew she was all but invincible. Her senses and reflexes had reached a new peak. She felt like a tigress must feel against a human opponent, watching their slow and clunky motions in comparison to the superior raw, wild reflexes of a wild animal. The darts flying at her seemed to be moving at the rate of a gently hit badminton shuttlecock.

Frederique dodged the first missiles easily. The second wave, she redirected, pushing out with her flier's ability to manipulate the air. She watched with satisfaction as these darts looped around and the red ones, filled with Arnet's Afflicted cells, looped their way around and shattered on the ground over and over. It seemed these special darts were quite rare, doubtless because Arnet had yet to find a way to replicate his Afflicted cells.

The next wave came and to the enemy's surprise, they found their mark. A triumphant yell grew as they saw both Frederique and her odd companion become a pincushion of darts.

What they did not know, however, was none of those darts had any effect. Jackie was protected by her massively padded suit. Frederique was so in tune with her powers that she was actually able to slow each dart's progress at the very last moment, so it only stuck into her black and red leather outfit -- never having any chance of grazing the luscious skin beneath.

Still, she knew how to play her part and she drifted down slowly, seemingly defeated as she settled upon the paving stones below.

Arnet's followers encircled Frederique and an air of triumph washed through their ranks as she looked up at them with a beatific smile, her face a mask of innocence and bliss.

"I never knew," she said melodiously. "I never knew what it was like to know such love. Tell me, have you all looked upon the master's face?"

"Yes, we have," said the woman nearest her. "It is such a wondrous sight to behold."

"I can only imagine," said Frederique. "And you must just hate to disappoint him."

"It is the saddest thing in the world," said the woman. "To please him is our only goal."

"Then you will all be sad this evening," said Frederique.

"Why?" said the woman. "We are delivering his mortal enemy to him in a very short while."

"That's where you are mistaken, my dear," said Frederique. "But I promise; we will do our best to take no lives. Does that bring any consolation?"

"What do you..."

The woman didn't have the chance to complete her sentence before she fell gasping in pain with an arrow to the thigh.

In the distraction of Frederique's ruse, the cadets had surrounded the larger group of Arnet's troops.

With surprising swiftness, the ranks began to fall. Arrows, thrown daggers, and then swords soon saw Arnet's devotees succumb.

Within a few brief minutes, Frederique was hamstringing the last two fighters -- two of the finest swordsmen the Afflicted had ever known -- but they looked like rank beginners when faced with her sword.

"I am impressed," said Frederique to the cadets. "Scaurus has obviously trained you well, and the battlefield has completed your education. Where do we go next?"

The cadets beamed at her praise and they were off to the next skirmish.

* * * *

Across the city, one hundred soldiers marched in rows of ten en route to a building where Scaurus had been spotted.

"Scaurus, come out," shouted Brolly. "Once we get a fix within the building you know you are no match for my sword -- no matter how many centuries you've been fighting."

"I'll take my chances!" boomed the gravelly voice of the ancient general.

"As you wish," said Brolly with a grin.

The back row of soldiers fell gasping to the ground. Either their calves or their thighs had been severed.

"What in the world?" muttered Brolly.

The next-to-rear row fell at the hissing sound of a blade -- yet Brolly's finely tuned ears knew there was no ghostly warrior in their ranks. He had sparred against the invisible Jacob before, and he knew it wasn't him. He also knew it wasn't a jumper, for the air indicated no such implosions of one deplacing.

Yet there could be no doubt someone was there as a third row went tumbling with crippling injuries.

Brolly had been the one who found Bullet chained in the Arizona mine and was glad to have her rejoin their ranks.)

"Bullet," he whispered. "Do you see the shadow upon that roof? That's our foe."

The stoic woman warrior gave a grim nod and whooshed to the spot Brolly indicated.

There were few who could even hope to stand up to a jumper with superior abilities -- and Bullet was one of the best. The problem was, when she came up against someone who could match her talents, it came as a shocking surprise. Such had been the case with Frederique -- and Bullet suddenly found herself facing another formidable opponent.

Seiko, with her senses very in touch with anything related to air, instantly felt the change in pressure near her as Bullet materialized ten feet away. Without even a moment's hesitation Seiko shifted her focus and sent a battering ram of air toward the intruder. As a very surprised Bullet went sailing through the air, Seiko turned once again and sent one, two, three, and four rapid slashes through the air. She grimaced sadly as she saw several heads go rolling -- in her distracted haste she hadn't been able to be as careful.

Bullet winked out just before crashing into a wall and rematerialized next to Brolly.

"A woman," she said. "Fights with air, or something. "

Brolly nodded his understanding and watched with chagrin as two more rows went falling with slashed legs. He jumped to where the woman had been seen, but she was no longer there.

Turning back to look at the ranks, he grinned with wonder upon seeing the woman being carried by the flying Palo, suspending her below him as she sent out shots toward the soldiers below.

"This is a good fight," Brolly said with his usual smile. "I like good fights."

He winked back to the front and gave a great battle cry. Suddenly, from the sewers and the skies, the Afflicted he had been holding in reserve appeared.

Seiko effortlessly swung around to ride atop Palo as he swooped down. The mistake of the fliers approaching them was to think that the diminutive Japanese woman's abilities only worked beyond her reach and that she wouldn't be a good swordswoman in close quarters. The descending fighters soon felt the sting of Seiko's two shōtōs, her paired short swords which wove an impenetrable web of steel around the two of them.

For his part, Palo had made the unusual decision of taking up two revolvers. Given the enhanced abilities of the Afflicted, firearms were still against their general battle code. However, since Arnet's followers had been using guns with increasing frequency, he and Scaurus had decided they were allowable.

Palo's aim was infallible. He had quickly developed an uncanny knack for sensing the greatest threats in a crowd. His shots rang out and with each one, another opponent fell who had been leveling a shot at either them or at Scaurus who had entered the fray.

Within moments, all guns had been neutralized and Palo had descended to the ground, depositing Seiko before rising again for the aerial battle.

He and Scaurus fell into a familiar pattern, which Scaurus had perfected over the centuries. Their backs to each other, perhaps three or four yards apart, they circled slowly in a counterclockwise motion and fended off aerial attackers as they approached.

The battle proceeded with surprising ease. Palo and Scaurus thwarted airborne attackers while Seiko wrought great havoc on the ground while showing surprising skill in fighting the legendary deplaceurs. Even Bullet's legendary swiftness was met with resistance from Seiko. Time and again, Bullet came up against the Japanese woman and found her attacks parried in ways she had only seen just a few days before against Frederique. Even when Bullet materialized directly next to Seiko, the woman sensed it and fought the deplaceur off.

There was only one frightening moment. That was when Scaurus found himself face-to-face with the barrels of two guns. Both barrels, however, clicked emptily when the triggers were pulled and Scaurus quickly dispatched those opponents.

A quarter of an hour later, all resistance had been eliminated save the jumpers -- and it was clear to Brolly and Bullet that they would have to wait for another day before facing the fierce trio again. They winked out and returned to Arnet's headquarters, not looking forward to their Master's ire.

After retrieving as many prisoners as they could to place in the now-burgeoning dungeons -- Scaurus, Palo, and Seiko retreated to the kitchens in the great mansion below where they had set up headquarters. They were joined there for the first time by the cadets, Brana, and Frederique.

It was a joyous time, as the triumphant fighters gathered. This evening, they had suffered only one casualty, a wounded cadet who would be fighting-ready within two days.

"Any news from our four refugees?" asked Scaurus.

Frederique shook her head, as did all of the closest companions from the Academy. They were all hoping for some mental word from Abby, but no one had received the slightest whisper.

"Well, tonight, we celebrate," said Frederique. "The last time I saw such battles was above Paris, and I would wager that had we possessed such fighters we would have triumphed much sooner. I am so proud and impressed with all of you. Let us retire to the wonderful gymnasium for some much needed other activities. We must keep our minds sharp for the battles ahead, and we can't have them clouded by too many lustful thoughts.

As the de facto beautiful and sensuous leader of the Afflicted led the main group of the American resistance to the gym, Scaurus held Palo back for a moment.

"You know Palo, for a moment there today -- I was sure I would be waking the next moment in Elysium."

"It was a close shave there, for certain," agreed Palo.

"The odd thing," continued Scaurus, "is the way both weapons misfired. I suppose that wasn't unusual in the days of muzzle-loaders, but revolvers rarely fail these days -- the cartridges are so reliable."

"It was odd, I'll agree," said Palo.

"Too true," said Scaurus. "But oddly, this has happened every time we've fought. I've never had so many close calls or ever seen so many misfires."

Palo said nothing.

"It occurred to me that only a clockmaker could make something like that happen," said Scaurus. "Then I got to thinking about the young ones at the trial. I recalled the way their dampeners and cuffs fell away. Frederique carries the clockmaker's strain, but it couldn't be her, she hasn't been fighting with us."

Paulo spoke softly. "At the hearing, when they were speaking about the clockmaker's gift I had a sudden transformation. One moment, the world was plain and normal and the next I could see into every machine in the room. I realize now that this ability had lingered at the edges of my consciousness for some time, but the stress of the moment seemed to bring it out. I was afraid to say anything because of Christophe's dreadful legacy. I was even afraid to use it too often to avoid being discovered."

"How much?" asked Scaurus. "How much can you do?"

"I won't lie to you," confessed Palo. "I reached out and tried to look into people's bodies. My mind doesn't work like that. Machines, gears, they all make sense to me. However, I don't think I will ever to be able to stop hearts from afar."

"That's good," said Scaurus. "You are a good fighter and a good friend. But do me a favor."

"What?"

"Stop fucking around," said Scaurus. "When we get to a battle, break everything. Every crossbow, every gun, every bloody stopwatch for that matter. Our job is to win and it will be much easier if you disable all of their weapons before we start."

"Agreed," said Palo.

They proceeded to the gym.

"Scaurus," asked Palo, "do you think we will win?"

"In truth, the odds are not looking good," said Scaurus. "Every day we take out scores of Arnet's people, and like a hydra he appears with two for every one we cripple. I've been through many tight scrapes and this is tighter than any I have ever seen."

They opened the door to the gym and were treated to a sumptuous banquet of flesh. As soon as the door closed they were met at the door by two who had waited for them.

Jackie took Palo's hand in hers.

"Come with me, masculine and impressive Palo. I've always admired your son's wares. Let's see where he gets his gifts from.

Seiko was also standing there, robed in elegant silk.

"It's been a while, Scaurus," said Seiko demurely. "Hypatia has been keeping you too much to herself. Come on, then."

She let her robe fall, reminding Scaurus of the lovely treasures she possessed. His clothes were off within moments and she leapt into his arms, impaling herself upon his ready member.

Buried within her, he lifted her off of the ground and they flew to a raised cubby, well above the fray.

A few moments later, on a couch-like softly-upholstered piece of furniture designed with only one thing in mind, Jackie hissed with pleasure as she pulled Palo's massive cock into her waiting silky folds.

Palo looked over to his right. With a curious sense of removal he noticed his longtime mate riding lustily above a cadet she was straddling. Standing beside her was another young man, his shaft buried deeply in her throat. For a moment, he and Frederique caught eyes and in that moment they exchanged volumes.

"Not now," her gaze seemed to say.

Palo realized she was right. Their bodies were in a curious blend of in-between. They were out of phase. Should they lay with each other, it would cause confusion in their hearts and their minds. For now, they only needed two things -- focus for battle, and relief from the ever present lust of their kind.

Frederique removed the cock from her mouth and began working it vigorously with her hand. She gave a nod and a smile to Palo before turning her focus back her two lovers.

What Frederique knew was something only someone who had been through campaigns was aware of. In times of war, it was not unusual for the body to go out of phase. It was a survival mechanism, in a way. The Affliction sensed the stress and grew 'anxious' itself and kicked the body into full lust mode. Galen had once explained it to a group of fighters that she had been part of during a minor skirmish in Mexico. He had explained that they needed to think of that delicious anticipation that happens during a date when both people know that lovemaking is to follow. The senses are raised, the heartbeat is quickened. It seemed that the Afflicted symbiote kicked the body into a state much like that. So, during battles, people experienced enhanced awareness. Connected to that, during the daylight hours, little sleep occurred and the libidos of the Afflicted were kicked into overdrive.

Palo, too, turned his attention to the more important matter at hand. Jackie moaned as Palo plunged fully into her and began pushing in with almost violent rhythm. There would be no doubt that Jackie would remember, and feel, the encounter for days to come.

"Give me everything you've got," purred the young woman. "Trust me, I can take it."

This was not the first time Palo had heard such a request, but he knew better than to grant such a request upon asking. Even his magnificent Frederique had taken some time to become used to his size. So, he eased slowly into the aggressive young woman, waiting for the telltale signs of resistance. It took far longer than he expected, and he looked down to see less than an inch of his massive cock remaining to push into her.

"Keep going," she whispered. "I need it all. Give me everything."

With raised eyebrows, Palo pushed the remainder of his monstrous/wondrous tool into his hungry lover and she took in in with a grateful moan.

"Oh yes, Palo," she panted. "It feels so good! I can't even begin to describe it."

These were urgent times and the lovemaking most often took on that urgency. Though sex was a requirement, there were also countless duties to perform. Palo began thrusting in and out of Jackie with a distinct sense of purpose. She met his deep gaze with equal intensity, wrapping her hands around his muscular buttocks and pulling him into her.

His cock pulsed through her glistening chamber, spreading her wide and stretching her deep anew with each thrust. She cried out with joy with each push within, and he wondered how soon it would be before she tipped over into climax.

To his surprise, it was longer than expected. She urged him to faster and deeper thrusts and he was the first to feel the twinges of orgasm beginning.

She felt it, too, and cooed into his ear to let himself go.

"That's it, my warrior," she moaned. "Spill yourself into me. Give me every drop."

Palo gave a strangled cry as the first, white hot seed shot deep into her. His hips bucked and seemingly buckets of his cum poured into her. He was paralyzed, briefly, as waves of pleasure seared through his body. Yet, she urged him on more once his climax subsided.

"Can you keep going?" she begged. "I'm so close and with your heat inside of me, it won't take much."
Palo was, indeed, up to the task. His cock had lost little of its stiffness and he began pumping himself into the nineteen year old vixen once more. The added slickness of his first load truly had a magical effect on their coupling. He now pistoned into her with cum-lubricated perfection, allowing him to go faster and somehow even deeper into her willing chamber.

Echoing the intensity of the battles in which they'd been participating, their lovemaking took on a battle-like rhythm. There was only one sabre in this duel, however, and it was piercing its foe to the core.

"That's it," moaned Jackie. "That's it, Palo, I'm almost there. Almost... almost... almost... there!!!"

His slickened tool kept pulsing in and out of her cum-soaked pussy. Her climax, like her personality, was not one to die quietly. She shrieked out now as each plunge rocked her body and sent crippling waves of pleasure through every nerve she possessed. Just when she thought she was near the end, she felt his body stiffen again.

Keeping him within her, she rolled them over so she could ride atop him for this second bout. She cried out anew as a second helping of cum began emptying into her.

There truly was no room left for any of the fluid Palo was pouring from his surprising reserves. As she bounced up and down on his pulsating shaft, first drops, and then rivulets began dripping down his dark, shimmering shaft.

"Oh god," she cried!

The most surprising orgasm washed over her. It was beyond her control now and she involuntarily slid off of him, capable only of writhing in seizure-like pleasure.

She did have, somehow, the ability to see that Palo was also still mid-orgasm. With whatever vestiges of control she possessed, she rolled over to pull his massive cock into her mouth -- sucking hungrily at each spurt as the waves of pleasure still kept her reduced to a twitching mass of orgasmic ecstasy.

What the two of them didn't notice, was the deafening silence of the many groups of lovers throughout the room. Palo and Jackie's coupling had been so intense, everyone else had either stopped, or at least slowed and continued fucking as they watched the intense scene of the two lovers.

One person who was watching with great interest was Jessamine, who was currently being pummeled from behind by Oppo. Jessamine had been with Claude a few times, and she couldn't help but compare and contrast the attributes and techniques of father and son.

From her high perch, Seiko watched with... not jealousy, for that was an inaccurate emotion. Not envy, for she had also enjoyed Palo many times before. Perhaps it was anticipation. The young girl Jackie had illustrated what might be possible.

For her part, Frederique had witnessed the wonderful session with a somewhat removed feeling. She'd had decades with Palo and countless of their sexual unions had been more intense and beautiful than what she'd just witnessed.

She was too numb for an emotional response. Her children were missing, she had drifted apart from her mate through no fault of either of them, the son of Jacinto had risen to power... it was too much. There was only here, only now, only physical pleasure for this brief respite to feed her hungers and recharge her body for the battle to come. Her out-of-phase condition

She stood up from the two cadets, who she had already finished off, and crossed to two young men who had just arrived from the battle and had the undeniable look of lust and need in their eyes.

Her brain was in something very similar to matelust... but take out the 'mate' element. It was pure, forceful, and almost frightening lust. She wanted one thing, and one thing only. To fuck as hard and as fast (and as many) as she could in order to quell her hunger and allow her to focus on battle plans as soon as this haze of need had passed.

For the cadets, Frederique was a mixture of everything that was tantalizing. First, of course, was her beauty. Her face was perfect, her eyes sublime. Her body curved in ways more beautiful than any of the statues they had seen. Her impossibly large breasts seemed to defy gravity. There were the statues, countless ones, spread across the realm of the Afflicted. Paintings in every room, statues on mantles -- and the artists had spared nothing in depicting her beauty and fulsome figure. Countless adolescent fantasies had involved her image. To be in the very presence of the legend who had flown through countless impure dreams was exciting to say the least. To cap off her mystique was the fact that she was a mother. All of them knew either Aimée or Claude -- and though the idea of an attractive older woman had a different tone among their kind -- the temptation of a friend's attractive mother was a universal aphrodisiac, whatever strain of humanity one belonged to.

And so, it was with a stunned, hypnotic feeling that the two new arrivals walked toward the naked Frederique who was beckoning to them with an insistent finger. They stumbled out of their clothes as quickly as possible and walked into her welcoming arms. One of them bruising his lips on hers, the other sucking hungrily at her left breast.

A few moments later, Palo awoke to two different stimuli. One was the eager licks and kisses of Jackie, who seemed intent on cleaning up every last drop of his cum. The other sensory input was of sound -- it was the familiar moans of his longtime mate, mixed with the voices of the two cadets she had chosen.

He looked down to discover his current companion actually wasn't Jackie -- she had already left to attend to her weapons duties. Instead, it was Colette, the lovely French scientist who had been his relief during their forced confinement.

"Do you have anything left in there?" she asked, kissing the tip of his cock playfully.

It was a silly question, a fact made obvious by the way Palo's massive cock sprang resiliently back to attention.

"I know we haven't much time," Colette said. "But I came in at the end of your fucking, and I just have to try you once today."

She crawled up onto the padded platform and looked over her shoulder expectantly. There could be no doubt about her desires.

Perhaps twenty feet away, Frederique had crawled on top of one of the young men.

"Tell me something," she whispered. "Do you know either of my children?"

"I know Claude," said the young man. "He was in my dorm."

"What's your name?" she purred into his ear, snaking her tongue in to punctuate her question.

"Jens," said the young man.

"Jens, have you ever lusted after a friend's mother?" she whispered.

"Many times," he stammered.

Her moist labia were already caressing his stiffened cock and he found it difficult to form a sentence.

"Did you ever follow through?" she asked. "Did you ever fuck a friend's mother?"

"I... ah!" he moaned.

Frederique had just pulled him into her warmth.

"I wanted to," he moaned as she pulled him in even further. "And... ah... and my friend Belinda's mother has left me an open invitation for when I return from... ah...Academy."

"How lovely," said Frederique. "What a warmhearted woman. Tell me, Jens, did you ever pleasure yourself while thinking of her? Did you?"

"I ah... many times, Frederique," he moaned. "Oh how do you do that?"

She had just squeezed him below.

"Trade secret," she whispered.

"Can I confess something to you?" he asked.

"Of course, Jens. I insist."

"I pleasured myself over you as well. We had a portrait of you in our entry way. You were in a soft yellow dress and your...ah... breasts were so lovely. I can't... I can't believe I'm doing this if you must know the truth."

"My breasts, hmm?" she asked. "Which look better, the way the artist painted them, or these?"

She pushed them into his face and hummed out in pleasure as his lips and tongue tickled away.

"No artist could even get close to this," he moaned between licks and sucks.

"Then that is where you must spill yourself," she said with a tender smile. "Promise me when you are ready, you will cum all over these objects of your youthful fantasies."

"I will," he whispered.

"Now your turn," she said to the other cadet who had been waiting patiently nearby. All the while, she had been expertly stroking his rigid cock with her free hand.

"Tell me your name, my handsome devil."

"Abdul," was all the young man could croak out.

"Well Abdul, have you had similar fantasies?"

He could only nod.

"Then let's make them come true."

She guided him to kneel behind her and his eyes grew larger as she guided his cock toward her, guiding him into a place he had never been before.

"That's the way," she moaned as his cock slid into her tight and ready ass.

For Frederique it felt good, so good, to be sandwiched between two young fighters ; to be fulfilling fantasies they had never imagined might come true.

"You two are so lovely," she said in dulcet tones. "If I had lived near you, I would have made it my mission to be your awakening presents. Would that have pleased you? To have me be your first when your body woke to the hunger?

They both agreed.

"Let's pretend that it's now," she moaned. "Let me fuck you in ways you've never fantasized or dreamed."

With imperceptible touches, she guided their two bodies. Taking on two men at once was not an easy task. Those unused to it would often find one man or the other slipping out because it took a coordinated effort.

She was used to it. In her slutty academy days, she had reveled in threesomes and had loved taking in two boys at once.

The old rhythms returned to her quickly and she gasped with the intense pleasure of two cocks dancing inside of her. She could feel them battling for space against the thin wall which separated her two orifices. She even knew ways to use that to her advantage, creating greater pleasure for all three as she squeezed her pussy and rocked her hips.

The warm bodies sandwiching her increased her pleasure even more. Jens, below her, continued sucking her breasts and pulling at her hips.

Abdul's warm back felt comforting and erotic as it rubbed against her.

"Oh god, here it comes," she gasped.

The first orgasm with the two boys came on like thunder. Her ass tightened down on Abdul and she pulled him tightly into her as she rose slowly up and down, moving a fraction of an inch with each orgasmic pulse, upon Jens's cock.

Once it passed she started pleasuring the boys afresh.

She knew what she was doing. She could feel the pleasure of each young man and could measure exactly how far away he was from his own climax.

She controlled them. She would stop one and let the other quicken his pace, then slow that one and clamp down on the other's cock to push his pleasure even higher.

Four times, she had her own orgasm, but masterfully held each boy back

Several yards from her, the show she was putting on served as a reciprocal aphrodisiac to Palo and Colette. He was pounding into the buxom French scientist from behind. He was not pummeling her with deliberate and full strokes. His cock slid in so far and his hips smacked into her round cheeks with a small slap each time. Her breasts were swinging pendulously below her body, rippling with each slap against her.

It was Palo who was in control with this pairing, and having cum twice already, he knew to the fraction of a movement how close he was -- and always he would pull back just in time.

Colette, however, was at his mercy. Twice already she had climaxed and his strong hands on her hips had held her up, refusing to let her fall to the padded surface below.

She didn't mind. Her interior seemed to be in a constant state of 'quiver' and her heart seemed to be pounding through her chest, creating its own ripples in her huge breasts. She was loving it, surrendering herself to the pleasure for just a short while against the madness above.

Palo was a wonderful lover. She knew he was not good mate material, not for her. She still held out hope for her darling Galen, though she worried horribly for him as the days went on. For now, Palo's muscular body, his muscular personality, his muscular cock, it was exactly what she needed. She needed his strength to overwhelm her as he had in their enforced isolation. He rocked her again and again, and again for a few seconds she was only here and their bodies sang together.

Across the gym, Frederique felt Jens growing close once again. She pondered slowing her pace and delaying him for a bit more. However, he remembered the strategy session she had scheduled with Hypatia and Scaurus in a quarter hour and sadly admitted to herself it was time.

She paused him for only a moment and allowed Abdul to begin thrusting faster again. With one final squeeze of her tightest muscles, she knew it was time. Both boys cried out and she pushed them away. The boys stood quickly and she took one cock in each hand. Jens screamed with pleasure, while Abdul was more quiet in his release.

There was nothing 'quiet' however, in either of their eruptions. She held their cocks high and she gasped with surprised pleasure as the first wave splashed into her face from both directions. The next spurt she aimed lower and she almost laughed from the pleasure of feeling their hot cum splashing over her breasts. Another wave, and even more kept spilling out across her perfect skin. Pure rivulets of young seed dripped down and coated her raw pussy -- soothing it and enflaming it at the same time.

The sight of the white syrup cascading over the beautiful Frederique's body was all that Colette could take. Not even Palo's muscular arms could keep her up this time and she collapsed to the padded surface as the next orgasm shook her body.

"Please, now Palo," she was able to gasp out.

Following the example of the young men in front of him. Palo pulled out and aimed his cock over the writhing woman's back. Though it was his third shot of the day, it was no less impressive and the Colette groaned with joy as she felt the hot streams lacing white ropes across her back.

With that, it was over. The other lovers in the room had finished their biologically required fucking of the day. With scarcely a word, individuals retrieved their clothing and retreated to the many shower rooms around the edges of the great 'gym'. Interestingly, the men and women went to different showers. Time for sex was over, and the showers would undoubtedly prove to be distracting. It was time for work.

Frederique was surprised to find herself in a bathing chamber with Colette and Seiko -- her mate's recent proxy, as well as his de facto 'mate' in this odd time.

They said nothing as they started the water. However, Colette gazed at Frederique with an odd hungry, expression, licking her lips at the tasty concoction coating the great beauty's skin. Frederique smiled with a shrug and started toward the streaming water.

She was stopped, however, by Colette's hand on her arm.

The woman dipped her head and began licking off the cum at the top of Frederique's breasts. Frederique was so surprised, she could do nothing but allow it. Her breathing quickened as Colette's hungry lips found their way to her nipple, cleaning off the slick remnants with more in mind than cleansing.

Frederique moaned even louder upon feeling kisses further down. Seiko had knelt below her and was sucking the cum from Frederique's engorged and tender pussy lips. The Japanese woman's tongue soon worked upward and began flicking insistently at the perfect spot. Seiko kept kissing and flicking as Colette kept up her 'cleaning'. A few short moments later, Frederique surrendered to a silent, intense orgasm, supported by the loving arms of the two women who were with her.

"Well, that was interesting," she said with a laugh.

"I know," said Colette with an innocent shrug. "It just had to be done."

They washed each other off in contented silence, and emerged from the showers with a secret glow.

* * * *

There were three men in the room. Twelve hours before, they had all been mortal. Now, they were Afflicted. None of them were bound to Arnet. They had been affected by Arnet's serum 'god's gift' and then Cora had held them aside in her chambers until its effects had left their systems.

It was a curious mix of loyalty and selfishness which coursed through Cora's system. She was bound to Arnet through his bite and followed him with unquestioning loyalty. At the same time, she was enamored with her newfound powers -- which were directly reflective of her former profession. For her entire adult life she had survived and flourished by bringing men pleasure. It had come as little surprise that her Afflicted gift had been tied into pleasure as well. Upon turning, her lovemaking skills went from legendary to hypnotic and she could also alter her shape, either subtly or in great ways in order to please her lover the most. She had worked her way through Arnet's followers, but had grown tired of them quickly. Those bound to Arnet only engaged in sex for their bodies' natural needs. However, when they made love her there was still always part of them that was focused on 'the master'. When Cora made love, she wanted her partner to be focused entirely on her.

So, she had begun turning men for her own personal pleasure. She now had a full dozen men who she had turned all by herself. Interestingly, Arnet's strain was passed on and they did show him fealty, but it was to Cora that they were most bound. It was his strain, passed on through her, that they carried. She had coached them carefully as to how to behave around Arnet . They were expected to exhibit the same blind devotion as all of his followers, and since the pleasures of Cora were their reward, they put on a perfect act.

At this moment, Cora moaned with pleasure as her current lover pounded into her, pinning her arms to the mattress as he took her missionary style. For her, each coupling was a challenge to bring as much pleasure as possible to her lover. She urged the man on with moans and nudges, squeezes and caresses.

"That's it, my darling, cum for me," she purred. "Give me everything."

This man had a particular fondness for more lithe women, so Cora was currently in a shape of tall blonde with smaller breasts.

The man cried out in rapture and she smiled as she felt his hot volumes of seed surging into her ready interior. He gave a strangled gasp as wave after wave of pleasure rocked through his system.

"Oh Cora," he cried. "Oh...my... Cor...AHHH!"

His eyes rolled back into his head and she gave a satisfied smile as she felt him collapse on top of her. He had fainted, losing consciousness from the overwhelming pleasure she had given him.

This had been two in a row with the same result. She was anxious to try her expanding techniques on her next victim, but chose to revel in the lovely feeling of the unconscious man atop her for a few moments more.

She returned to her own shape just as her door burst open and Arnet stepped in. He took in the scene with an impatient glance. He had no room for jealousy. Nor did it concern him much. Every woman who was now bound to him gave herself willingly and unequivocally. To him, Cora was an able lover, but she had many other useful purposes.

"Cora," he said, "there have been more casualties. Please join me in the lower chamber as soon as possible. I could use your counsel."

"Yes, Master," said Cora. She rolled the man off of her and donned a sheer robe, leaving several disappointed lovers behind.

When she arrived at the chamber, Arnet was already questioning the first survivors who had managed to limp back from the encounter with Frederique and the cadets.

"Master, they were formidable before," said a massive, muscular flier who was cradling an arm which had nearly been severed. "The cadets are good fighters -- good fighters. But Frederique, I have never seen such a warrior."
"It's true," said a woman who had almost as many injuries. "The demoness Frederique flies with such speed that I would suspect she was a deplaceur if I didn't know better."

Two pops echoed through the room. Brolly and Bullet, relatively unscathed, appeared and knelt instantly before Arnet.

"Our apologies, Master," said Brolly. "We have lost another battle."

"Numbers?" asked Arnet.

"Twenty-three initiates dead, over a hundred injured, at least ten Afflicted captured, and two score gravely injured and being retrieved."

"Tell me, Brolly," said Arnet with contempt. "How is it that you deplaceurs always return with barely a scratch?"

"Barely or buried, is the expression we use, Master," said Brolly. "As deplaceurs, we are trained to jump away at the slightest hint of a wound. It is instinctive. Even if it means simply sliding a few inches to one side or the other, if one of us can miss a thrust or a bullet, we will. If we can't... we're probably dead."

"Please explain to me, Brolly, with your legendary abilities, along with Bullet. Why are we still fighting? I had assumed we would be done by now."

"With all due respect, we are still fallible, Master," said Bullet. "And we are facing a steepening curve."

Brolly picked up the thread. "Master, the first wave was easy, but the second was more difficult. The odds say, that the gifts and abilities of those remaining will make each victory that much more difficult. I foresee a victory, but it will take time, and based on the abilities of those remaining -- our last battle will be against Frederique, and it will be a long and bitter battle indeed."

There was a young, innocent-faced maiden waiting and watching Arnet with adoring eyes. Almost casually, he beckoned to her.

"Come here, my lovely," said Arnet.

Arnet loosened his trousers and his stiff member stood up, waiting and ready. The innocent follower climbed atop him. She moaned as she felt her Master pushing his way into her.

No one paid any attention to this. Arnet's followers were used to him indulging his whims whenever and however he wished. He continued to speak, looking past the girl's shoulder as she began riding up and down his cock.

"I have to say, I agree with your findings," said Arnet. "We definitely have a tough battle ahead of us. It is a tough battle based on the rules of the game we are currently playing. So, we change the rules."

"Master?" inquired Brolly.

"We need to move up our timetable,' said Arnet. "Today, we unleash the serum into the New York water supply."

"But dear," said Cora, soothingly. "The supplies will not reach all of Europe until a week from now. All it will take is one cable to London and all of Europe will be on the alert. You are the one who said we must wait -- be patient."

"We can't wait," said Arnet. "There are only isolated pockets of Afflicted left in Europe and Asia. The battle that matters is here -- now. Frederique is the key. If we can capture her and the damned empath, the rest will fall in time."

"But..."

"I will brook no further argument," said Arnet -- emphasizing his point with an angry thrust into the girl on top of him. "This is the plan. Today we take New York which will give us an unlimited army. Tonight, we battle and begin to test Franz's device, and tomorrow we use our one million initiates to tear apart the underground brick by brick -- pouring sunlight into any crevice which might contain our enemies. By this time tomorrow night, the world will be ours. Make it so!"

Arnet's word was final. Deplaceurs and runners were sent off to put his plan in motion.

The room emptied. Only Cora and a dark-eyed lieutentant remained. Arnet continued enjoying the attentions of the young beauty who was still riding his cock with pleasure.

"How are supplies?" asked Arnet of the lieutenant.

"Greatly depleted," said the young man. "It was a costly day."

"I'm so sorry, my lovely," said Arnet, whispering into his current lover's ear, "but I need you for the cause."

The meaning of his words never registered on her. His teeth sank into her neck and sent a surge of orgasmic bliss through her bod. As the pleasure overtook her, his teeth ripped into her neck and he began drinking deeply. With practiced familiarity, Cora retrieved syringes and tubes -- replenishing the war supplies of Arnet by way of a shriveling young woman whose life poured through the ruthless leader's system.

* * * *

Abby, Aimée, Jacob, Claude, and Glennis stood at the edge of the lovely wood. They had been clothed in rich, light garments possessed of armor-like properties. They had been given weapons of the finest make, as well as jewels with unknown properties. Though they had pleaded for more assistance from the Elders, the ancient race was adamant.

"It is not our path to interfere in this battle," Loenshellen had patiently explained one final time. "My daughter's part was preordained by the stars themselves. Beyond her part in this, it is only our role to observe and hope that your kind somehow triumphs. It would be a shame to lose you. We wish you luck, truly."

They had been sheltered beneath a travelling sun-shielding canopy, carried by four of Glennis's kind. One of them was the young man, Kḗrnlōcln, who Glennis had known in her earliest childhood. He gave her a gentle nod, and smile. It gave her an odd feeling of reassurance as they prepared to set off on an adventure upon which both their lives, and thousands of others, depended.

The sun eventually set and the canopy was removed. Loenshellen gathered the five friends into a circle and spoke in low tones.

"We have told you all we can," he said in a solemn voice. "However, I wish to impart to you one other piece of advice. Do what is right."

"What does that mean, father?" asked Glennis.

"In each of us is a compass -- an infallible, flawless compass which points us to what is right. Follow yours. When the greatest questions confront you -- follow where that compass points you. Trust it. Good luck, children."

Loenshellen stepped away from them and they took each other's hands. The sun set fully below the mountains. Abby felt her awareness of the rest of the world growing again.

* * * *

Louis Pasteur and Jeanne were now inseparable -- though that had little impact on their work. They had worked for many years together in laboratories. Newly mated, it simply meant there was far more 'inadvertent' touching as they peered into microscopes or prepared cultures.

"Do you have them?" asked Jeanne as Louis returned.

"I do," said Louis.

In his hands he held a tray of blood samples -- none of them were labeled with the donor's name. Rather each tube had a number which would be cross-referenced against the master ledger.

The numbers of these few specimens, however, did not need to be looked up. Each catalog number was burned into their minds.

"So you think the key is in one of these?" asked Louis.

"I do, absolutely," said Jeannie. "At least for the mortal serum. If we can discover how Arnet synthesizes the serum from his own blood, one of these will counteract his. If my theory is correct, a serum derived from another Afflicted host will cancel the binding effect of Arnet."

"I see your logic," said Pasteur. "And I also agree with your analysis that one with strong gifts -- a more natural bond with their symbiote -- will prove to be stronger. "

He pointed to the six vials in the tray.

"Galen, bless him," he said, pointing to the first vial. "Thank goodness he submitted this sample and kept it in the incubator before it disappeared. Then there is Hypatia, Palo, Brana, the young flier Oppo, and of course, Frederique."

"Perfect," said Jeannie. "Each of them displays a unique strength in their strain that would absolutely negate Arnet's serum."

"Except..." said Louis.

He drifted off, contemplating an interesting possibility.

"Except what?" asked Jeannie.

"Except, if for some reason the donor's serum proved stronger -- we could end up with mortals flying around."

"True!" said Jeannie with a laugh. "But only for a few days, a week at the most -- and I would think it could only happen in a small few. If this proves successful, I would say that's a small price to pay."

They started working, extracting a few drops from each vial. When they were done, they placed the tray of precious vials into a combination safe. The safe was kept at slightly below body temperature to allow the vibrant Afflicted cells to continue living for days, even weeks.

* * * *

Palo had become appointed chief of communications, coordinating missives going to and from the pneumatic tubes, as well as those coming and going with their best fliers. There were large pockets of below which had been taken, but the secret tunnels connecting their underground mansion had yet to be discovered and coordinated communications with the others in the resistance had gone smoothly.

He opened the second missive which had arrived from their daywatcher near the banking district. His brow wrinkled with concern and he dashed to the library.

Frederique, Scaurus, and Hypatia were deep in planning. They looked up with concern upon seeing Palo dash in.

"What is it dear?" asked Frederique.

"It's the city. He is starting to turn it. Our daywatchers report increasingly large groups gathering, all of them with the same glazed look. Arnet's lieutenants deliver the word and that's all the people need to hear. They are being organized -- in massive numbers."

"But how?" asked Frederique.

"I don't know," said Palo, "I didn't think he had that many darts."

"They don't," said Hypatia. "Get Colette in here."

The voluptuous young scientist was called in and read the reports which continued to stream in.

"It can't be darts," she murmured. "Too many and the spread is too rapid. Let me see the map."

In their possession, they had what was perhaps their most valuable tool. It was a comprehensive map of New York. In truth, it was actually several maps, all drawn on transparent material which allowed them to be overlayed atop each other. One was of basic New York, the surface, another mapped out the Afflicted Below-world, another transportation routes, and so on.

"Get me a new map," said Colette. "Hypatia, could you help?"

A new, generic map was placed over the overlayed version below. Colette asked for the reports from the daywatchers and Hypatia did her best to sketch out the reports of where the changes had been witnessed. There was a distinct pattern, but looking at the maps below they couldn't discern what it meant.

"Well, thank god for one thing," said Colette.

"What?" asked Scaurus.

"It isn't airborne. If he had succeeded in aerosolizing the serum, or -- god forbid -- attaching it to a virus, we would have had a bona fide plague on our hands. No, the ways this is spreading is coming from a source. A distinct source. It's radiating from these spots on 42nd Street and way up town at 86th Street in the park."

She thought for a little while then snapped her fingers.

"Radiating!" she said. Pull everything away but the map of the water supply.

Hypatia did, and their answer immediately became clear. The strongest concentrations were nearest the two city reservoirs and pushed outward from there.

"It's the water," cursed Frederique, "Damn that son of a weasel. Palo, as quick as you can, we need you to shut off the valves. Aim at the places yet to be infected."

Palo nodded with a smile.

"I'll get to it at once."

"But this evening, use bleach," said Colette. "That should be all it takes to erase his serum."

She was already sketching out a formula.

"That many parts per gallon," she said. "Any less, it won't be effective, any more -- it will be unhealthy."

"Yes, of course," said Palo.

An idea was already forming in his head and he dashed off to gather the personnel and resources he needed.

Frederique cursed again, as something suddenly dawned on her.

Scaurus made the realization at nearly the same time.

"What is it?" asked Hypatia.

"Fear the day," said Scaurus. "To date, Arnet has lacked sufficient numbers to come after us while the sun is shining. Now he will have no problems. He will throw every body he has at us with no regard for life. Tomorrow, during daylight hours, he will come with mirrors and prisms and fry us in our dens."

"So it is tonight," said Hypatia.

"Oui, it is tonight. Even running would serve no purpose. We must stop this, now."

"Carpe Noctum," said Scaurus softly.

"Yes indeed," agreed Hypatia. "Seize the night. If we don't seize this night, we might never have another night to seize."

They all looked grim, but a slow grin slowly spread over Frederique's face.

"We might just have a better chance," she said, grinning. "Hello dear."

It was a bit perplexing. Frederique seemed to be talking to empty air.

"Who is she talking too?" asked Colette.

"I think I know," said Scaurus. "Let's leave her be for a moment."

"Frederique, we are here," said Abby.

"I'm so pleased," said Frederique's voice, echoing through all of their heads.

"We are getting ready to jump to you," said Abby. "I sense you are in a large, underground house? And many of the cadets are with you?"

"Yes, we are safe, but wait," said Frederique. "There are odd things going on. It seems Arnet has found a way to spread his serum more widely. As dearly as I would like to see you all, I think you may be safer, and more use to us elsewhere."

"Very well," agreed Abby, "We will stay in touch."

Frederique smiled.

"My children are coming home."

* * * *

"Somewhere safe," mused Aimée. "I'm trying to think of somewhere safe we can go."

"I don't know about you," said Jacob. "But I say, to hell with being safe. I've been locked away for far too long. I want to do something."

They all agreed. Being cautious was one thing; none of them were in the mood for 'safe'.

"But let's be smart about this," cautioned Claude. "What do we have that no one else does? We have an empath who can read minds -- and more. We have someone who can become invisible. We have a jumper -- the only one left on the good side from the sounds of it. I can fly. Lastly, we have Glennis. Among her many other skills, she can walk about in the daylight. Let's do our best to make the most of our gifts in this fight."

"Agreed," said Abby. "I have an idea."

Abby reached out with her mind once more and had a quick exchange with Frederique.

"Abby, what's your closest jump point to 42nd Street?"

"I... I don't know," said Aimée uncertainly. "Most of our jump points are underground; we don't always know their exact topside location."

"I know one," said Glennis. "It is a building with an abandoned top floor. It is on 41st. I don't usually remember those things, but I loved the way the '4' and '1' were carved into the front of the building."

"Forty-first it is then," agreed Abby. "See it in your mind, Glennis, and I'll give it to Aimée."

The information was passed they were soon standing in the dim final rays of a setting autumn sun which shone into the higher windows of the building. The four Afflicted stepped quickly aside. The light had been dim enough that it had presented no real danger, but it was still unsettling. Once out of the light, Abby quickly reached out with her mind.

"Oh, this is bad," she said softly. "There are so many -- so very many -- and they are entirely single-minded. Arnet is their only thought. Almost every single person on the street has been bound to him."

"Almost?" asked Jacob.

"Yes, there are some who aren't yet under Arnet's spell and they have learned to mask their behavior. There are others hiding in their buildings. It is so sad, really, the lack of thought in their heads."

"But they're still thinking, obviously," said Aimée.

"But not in a right way," explained Abby. "It's just like I said, so long ago. He is all they think about. Think about when you are in love. Your studies suffer; your mind keeps drifting back to 'them'. That's what it is like with these people, but multiplied. All they can think of is him."

"Something's going on out there," said Glennis.

She had been standing at the window. The sun was now entirely set and the others moved to the window.

Below, ad hoc platoons were being organized and weapons were being distributed.

"Where are they getting them?" mused Claude. "If we could track down the source, we could do a great deal of damage."

"Indeed," agreed Aimée.

"Him," said Glennis, pointing down to the street.

There was a man directing activities from a central vantage point.

"I can tell," said Glennis, "of anyone in the crowd, he would be the one."

"How do you know? Are you an empath, too?" asked Jacob.

"Not exactly," she said with a shrug. "I just... I see things and they make sense. He is the one.

"Very well, let's wait then," said Claude. Let him finish his business."

They watched patiently as the captain, or whatever his equivalent rank might be, continued giving orders. Aimée watched the most intently and waited for the man to turn to walk to his next location.

"Now," she whispered, "be ready."

She snatched him so smoothly that none of his companions even noticed he was gone, but merely looked about thinking he had gone ahead or taken his own path to their next location.

As for the man, he certainly noticed something was amiss. He was midstep one second, and the next he found himself being pinned to the floor by a redheaded young man, and another with brooding eyes and a dark complexion.

"Where is it made?" asked Aimée, who towered above him. "Where is Arnet making the serum?"

"I'll never tell," he said. "I would rather die than betray the master."

"You don't need to do that," said Abby. "We don't wish to kill you."

"No we can do this the easy way, or the easier way," said Aimée.

"What's the easy way?" asked the man.

"I could beat the daylights out of you and torture you until you talked," she said with a coy grin.

"What's the easier way?" he asked, confused.

"We let our lovely little redheaded friend here suck the thoughts from your brain as easy as a mosquito pulls out blood."

"You!" cried the man, suddenly struggling. "The master wants you desperately, almost as much as the demon Frederique. Ow!"

Claude had punched him squarely on the jaw.

"I would thank you to not speak of my mother in such a tone," said Claude.

"Well," said Jacob, "it looks like the easier way it is."

Abby reached down and touched her hand to the man's cheek. As much as he tried to push his mind away from what she was seeking, she found getting the information as easy as finding a four year old playing hide-and-seek.

"Where are you?" she purred.

With that, the location came to the surface of his mind. It was a great warehouse with endless machines. The view of it was distinct and clear. She passed it on to Aimée.

"I can get us there," said the deplaceur. "No problem."

"But what do we do with him?" asked Claude.

Aimée pondered the question.

"Well," she muttered. "It seems almost immoral in a way, but it is the one place I can think of that no other jumper would know about. Give him to me."

She took the man by the lapels of his coat and wrapped her hand around his neck. An instant later, the man found himself lying beside an opulent underground swimming pool. There was a thin layer of dust, and a spot of dried blood on the tiles, beyond that, he was alone.

She returned to her companions and explained where she had taken the man.

"Brilliant," exclaimed Claude. "There's food there, and certainly more than enough water. I think I understand now why the Council never sent deplaceurs to retrieve us. Our location was always a secret. The good news ; it still is."

"I have an idea," said Jacob. "Scaurus always said, cut off the snake at its head. What say we get as many 'heads' as we can. I hear Morocco is lovely this time of year -- let's give them a holiday."
That is just what they did. With Abby's empath abilities, Glennis's unique talents, and their other skills, Arnet's leaders began disappearing at an alarming rate. By the end of a single hour, there were more than fifty men and women -- both Afflicted and mortal, locked away in a grand home, in a tiny village of Morocco as far from civilization as one could imagine.

They relayed news of their activities to Frederique. She expressed her pride.

"Let us take it from here," she said. "I suspect our jobs will be much easier. Go and find the source, be careful, but do what you can."

Aimée affixed the image Abby had given her. A moment later, the five of them were in the middle of a great and wonderful factory. Brass pistons and well-oiled gears clanked and hummed all around them. Overhead, electric bulbs burned brightly. They dodged into a darkened corner and looked around -- both awed and overwhelmed at the complexity of Arnet's operation.

They were lucky, in a way. The factory operated around the clock, but the first few hours after sunset were the quietest times, when the Afflicted workers satiated their hungers, and the mortal workers took some rest.

"So, we need to break this," said Jacob.

His tone reflected the overwhelming feeling they all felt. Short of a massive fire or explosion, the factory was not an easy target for them to take down.

"Wait here a moment," said Aimée.

"Where are you going?" asked Claude.

"For help," she explained. "I'll be right back.

She disappeared. A few moments later, she was back with them and beside her stood a handsome, shy-looking Frenchman.

"Bonjour Martin," said Abby. "How lovely to see you again."

"Lovely to see you, too," said Martin. As before, he showed the same unflappable oddness which made him so good as a craftsman, but often awkward in social situations.

This was clearly evidenced by the fact that he'd just been whisked half-way around the world with no way to explain how, but he was now studying the situation around him instead of panicking.

"What is this place?" asked Martin.

"It's a factory," said Aimée. "We need to break it."

"Ah," he said calmly.

He pondered the amazing machinery around them.

"I think first you should explain all of this," he said. "This seeing without seeing -- this popping through the air and traveling to places unknown. This... flying?"

He pointed to Claude with a piercing expression.

"How do you know I fly?" Claude asked.

"There are a few things -- but most of all it is your hair -- it is pushed in such a way that could only happen if the breeze hit you from above. No wind blows from above. None, so you must fly."

He looked at Jacob and Glennis.

"As for you two -- I can't discern what might be different about you, but you both are just as unusual as the others -- so I'm sure there is something. So please, explain to me what this is all about -- and then we can discuss what might be done with this odd factory."

"We don't have much time," argued Claude.

"We don't need much time," said Abby.

"But..." argued Claude.

"Trust me, Claude," said Abby.

She took Glennis's hand in hers.

"I need your help."

Glennis nodded.

They approached Martin. The two girls stood on either side of him and leaned into him. Abby placed a hand to Martin's temple and Glennis echoed her movement. Martin's eyes flew wide open and a surprised smile crossed his lips.

"Such wondrous things," he said. "Such wondrous, wondrous things."

His eyes closed then, as years' worth of information flew into his mind by way of Abby's empathic abilities, and the unique picture-speak of Glennis's people.

A mere two or three minutes later, Martin gasped and he looked about at the companions with a smile.

"Do you see what this means?" he asked.

"What?" asked Aimée.

"It means I am the mechanic from the prophecy."






CHAPTER 16



The companions looked at each other with surprise. Martin had just given them a glimpse into his unique, analytic mind by deducing so quickly that he was the mechanic in the prophecy of the Elders.

"It makes sense," said Claude. "Loenshellen told us to follow our compass. Aimée felt she had to get Martin, but she didn't know why. He is our sixth."

"I agree," said Jacob. "You have an actual clockmaker. How do you know him?"

"It didn't seem important at the time," said Abby. "We met him in Paris. He was charming and gave us a clock -- but it just seemed like a random encounter."

"Until just a little while ago," said Aimée. "Then, all the pieces fell into place in my mind."

For his part, Martin, in his usual distracted fashion, was peering at the complex machinery around them.

"There," he said. "No, there," he continued.

He was pointing to various spots on all of the machines, attempting to reckon the best spots to cripple the equipment.

"Yes, I have it now," he said. "I know every spot we need to hit. It won't take much, really. Just a loosened nut, or a bar in just the right places and we'll have this place useless to them. I'll know how to fix it if we need it, but it will take them weeks to figure it out."

"We can help. Just tell us what we can do," said Aimée.

"I wish I could describe it," said Martin. "But it's too complicated."

"Silly clockmaker," said Abby. "How quickly you forget who you are dealing with. Show me, and I'll show them."

"Oh, of course," said Martin.

Abby kissed him chastely which allowed her to lift the images and ideas out of his head. She transferred one image and idea at a time to each of her companions. As luck would have it, there were five precise spots that Martin believed would render the serum factory useless for at least a few days.

Now it was Abby's time to influence Arnet's followers. She was masterful at her job. Each person in the factory suddenly realized they had something to do -- somewhere other than near a spot that needed to be sabotaged. One by one, they drifted off to other places and looked away in other directions.

Each of the five arrived at their spot with an implement in hand and set to work.

Aimée and Jacob's work was easiest -- they simply had to toss in metal bars which fell into gears and began to slowly gum up the works. Glennis and Claude's sabotage operations involved snipping cooling tubes which would lead to massive overheating within the equipment within a few moments. Martin's work was the most complicated, he opened a gear box and reversed several gears as well as disengaging others. He had surmised that the operator would come to this junction first. The changes he was making within the gears assured that whoever tried to stop the entire assembly would actually set in motion the final death commands for the factory.

They didn't need to walk back to Abby, with four quick 'zips' Aimée had them back to their friend and with a small pop they were back at their abandoned hideout in Manhattan, ready to join the troops in the city.

"Where are you?" called out Abby to Frederique's mind.

"Fighting," said the beautiful fighter. "But don't come. I have a curious feeling. Lay low. That's an order."

As disappointed as they were in being denied the chance to fight, they felt they had accomplished a good amount of work that evening -- and Frederique's tone left no possibility of argument.

The companions took a survey of the building where they were hiding. They found a back, internal stairway, and were pleased to discover that the ground floor was a dry-goods store and the basement was well stocked with wine, food, and even a secluded store room which seemed to have been closed for years based on the amount of rust on the hinges. No one would seek them out there.

* * * *

The battle plan for the resistance was different this evening. Since combining forces with the Cadets, they had begun a more systematic approach. This evening, Seiko was leading ground forces while Scaurus and Frederique took two different flying contingents.

Palo had been asked to oversee the water supply issue and finish that before joining the battle. He was working with Karl, the finest inventor among the Afflicted (other than Franz).

Palo explained. "We need to be sure we have a steady supply of bleach going into the water for days so that we kill the serum as soon as it enters the system."

"These will work," said Karl.

They had devised large canisters with slow drip mechanisms.

"We just need to find a place to conceal it near the outlet valves."

"Can it work under water?" asked a voice in an Irish accent.

They turned to see Sean the swimmer approaching.

"I heard about your task and I thought I might be of assistance. Can you fix that so it comes out under water?"

"Well, yes," said Karl. "We would just need a better seal and a pressure spring, but it could be done fairly quickly. I have some concerns about just dropping it in, though. I would want it at just the right place."

"You worry about getting the equipment working-- I'll get it to the bottom of the reservoir. Trust me."

"Very good," said Palo.

"Palo!" cried a woman's voice.

It was Hypatia, and she was sailing upon a huge sheaf of newsprint as though it were a magic carpet.

"What is it, Hypatia?" he called.

"Scaurus needs you, quickly. "

"We'll take it from here," said Karl. "Go."

Palo took Hypatia's hand in his. The paper she'd been riding upon rolled up neatly and floated into one of many scroll tubes she had slung on her shoulders. Off they flew.

* * * *

The battles were proceeding well. Aimée's efforts to snatch the leaders had paid off with phenomenal returns. Without clearheaded, well-prepared leaders, Arnet's (now) thousands of followers had taken to generally milling about.

For the resistance, the night was proceeding with surprising ease. Arnet's Afflicted warriors were being hit with disabling wounds at a steady pace and it seemed that the evening would be a clear, decisive victory.

Suddenly, however, the course of battle turned. The Afflicted members of the resistance suddenly began to wither.

It happened with two flying fighters first. They had been fighting strongly but they simply began to fall. The resistance fighters around them watched in shock as the two warriors fell in fits and starts, eventually crashing to the street with a force that wasn't fatal, but certainly damaging.

On the next street over, two more fell and then non-fliers began growing nauseous and dropped to their knees.

"Disengage!" cried Frederique. "Something is wrong! "

All who were able scrambled or flew away. Frederique felt a brief flash of weakness herself, but was able to outfly whatever force was pulling at her.

From a great height, she retrieved a spyglass and looked down sadly to see over forty crippled Afflicted have needles put to their necks and succumb to the infectious, hypnotic spell of Arnet's blood.

Scaurus saw her and flew to meet her.

"This is bad," he said. "It seems like they've gotten portable dampeners that can project the field over some distance."

"Bordel de Merde!" cried Frederique. "If they can cover too large an area with that thing we don't stand a chance. "

"Ah, but they don't know about our secret weapon," said Scaurus. "And here it comes."

Palo and Hypatia ascended rapidly upward and hovered beside Scaurus and Frederique as Scaurus explained the situation.

"Can you sense any of them?" asked Scaurus of Palo.

Palo reached out with his senses and found the first of the dampeners. The workings quickly made sense to him.

He gave a wry chuckle. "I see exactly how to disable it, but I can't do it from this distance. I'll need to be closer."

"See what? Do what?" asked Frederique.

"My dear," explained Scaurus, "it seems that the clockmaker's gift has appeared again in a mate of Frederique. Palo, I'll take Hypatia, you explain it to Frederique -- but quickly."

Hypatia could support herself on pieces of paper suspended in air, but it was not the effortless energy of the flyer and it was easier to have help when available. Scaurus took Hypatia's hand and floated a short distance away as Palo explained things in gentle tones to Frederique.

Frederique took the new information in calmly; resolving to face the greater implications of Palo's new ability after the battle was won.

"Very well," said Frederique. "Here is what we do. Scaurus and I will fly ahead of you to distract the people with the dampeners. They will aim at us, and we'll simply pray to god you can knock out each one before we hit the ground so we can return to flying again."

"Sounds like as good of a plan as any," agreed Scaurus. "Hypatia, why don't you go check on the progress of Pasteur and Jeannie? If we make headway, any counter-serum they can give us might prove to be critical in this battle."

Hypatia gave him an understanding nod and unfurled her 'carpet' once again. She flew swiftly back to the underground mansion.

* * * *

In the forgotten storeroom below the dry goods store, Claude was pacing about manically.

"I want to go!" he said between gritted teeth. "I want to help."

"You heard mother," said Aimée. "That wasn't just an overprotective mother. That was a general giving very clear orders. For whatever reason, she wants us out of it. But still, I could help, too. They have no deplaceurs. I could move people around."

"I could attack from within," said Jacob.

"I could guess their very thoughts," insisted Abby.

"I'd rip them to shreds," said Claude. "I would slash their throats and drink their blood and it would make me stronger."

"Indeed," agreed Jacob.

Glennis and Martin watched the four with more than a bit of concern. Their four companions had a frightening look in their eyes that bordered on madness.

"We should go," said Aimée.

The four Afflicted debated back and forth, but Glennis perceived there was something deeper which needed fixed. She searched through some of the crates near them and found what she needed. Pulling Martin aside, they conferred -- turned their backs -- and then turned to their companions.

All four Afflicted suddenly stopped and turned toward the unmistakable scent which hit their nostrils.

Glennis and Martin each held a goblet in their hands and approached their friends. Each of them had a slashed finger and had filled their container with blood.

"You need this," said Glennis. "That's what has you so upset. It's been two days since you drank. Come on then."

Abby was the first to comprehend the need for this and was able to send out a soothing signal to the others.

"Of course," she said. "Give me some."

She lifted Glennis's goblet to her face, but quickly pushed it back toward the fair girl.

"No," she said. "There's something different about your blood. My body doesn't want it. Let me try Martin's."

She sipped from Martin's offering and gave a sigh of relief as her senses cleared. A few drops was all they needed. Yet, those drops came just in time. They had been on the brink of being very dangerous to their companions and others.

The others followed suit, drinking their ration. They were soon much calmer, but not calm enough.

There was still another hunger which was growing within their bodies.

They were in such an odd state they couldn't even recognize what they were feeling. Glennis, who had spent more time among the Afflicted, knew exactly what they were in need of.

"I know what's wrong," she said. "Come here Claude."

She walked to Claude and took his hand in hers. She pulled him to Abby and put that same hand on Abby's breast. The singing of nerves and the way their systems cried out to each other was instant. Aimée comprehended the situation and was quickly in Jacob's arms.

There were no doubts as to where things would go from there. Claude took Abby's hand and led her to a row of crates where they dipped down out of sight. Aimée took Jacob's hand, and led him to another corner that availed them of some privacy.

The sounds of passion began to grow louder. Glennis and Martin sat side by side on a crate.

"They have to," said Glennis, blushing. "It comes with the Affliction. They can't help it."

"I gathered that," said Martin, his cheeks also red. "Still, I suppose if you have to do something -- a few drops of blood and lots of that -- not too shabby."

"True," said Glennis.

They sat in more awkward silence as several pieces of clothing flew over the crates shielding Aimée and Jacob.

"Do you need to?" asked Martin.

"Oh, no," said Glennis. "I'm not made like them. I've been considering tryingthat. To tell the truth I never have."

"Neither have I," said Martin after a pause.

The moans grew louder.

"We could kiss," offered Glennis. "I like kissing and it might help distract from...them."

"I would be agreeable to that," said Martin.

They started kissing. It definitely helped to distract.

Behind one row of crates, Claude hadn't even gotten his trousers off. He was lying on his back and Abby was sucking hungrily at his cock.

"Don't hold back," she insisted. "You've got plenty more."

She twisted his cock in her hands, gave a simple lick, and reached out to give a tiny mental nudge. The gushing began.

She was so randy, so hungry, there was no volume of cum Claude could produce that she couldn't swallow. Like one stranded in the desert tasting their first water in days, she let this lovely white fluid pour down her throat and swallowed with abandon. Before the last drops had finished streaming, she had climbed aboard his massive, resilient cock, and was riding him to satiate her own needs.

Across the room, behind their own crates, if one hadn't known better they would have thought Aimée was having a delicious erotic, solo, fantasy. She was lying naked upon the ground and moaning with pleasure and seemed to be kissing an imaginary lover. However, there were a few telltale signs that this was no flight of fancy, no sensuous daydream. As she moaned and twisted her body, her breasts grew flatter and more round as though they were being crushed from above. She kissed, too -- her lips crushed by her invisible lover, her tongue dancing with his imperceptible moist and hungry mouth.

Above all, if one were looking for signs of how real her lover was, they needed to only look at her bald and glistening pussy. Her lower lips were spread wide and open, gaping from the presence of a long and powerful tool. Piercing her inner sanctum, Jacob couldn't help but be somewhat visible as his juice-soaked cock slid in and out, her sweet nectar creating a diaphanous shaft that continued parting her down below.

Evident, too, was the impossibly long path Jacob's cock was taking in and out of her. He was taking full thrusts, and with each push her skin rippled from her pelvis to far up her belly as his invisible snake plundered her Garden of Eden.

The invisible intruder started to slow and she moaned with ecstasy as her own orgasm gripped her body.

"Cum with me Jacob," she pleaded, "cum right now."

The invisible cock within her held one more surprise. Jacob's moan rang out and the young stallion began to empty torrents of seed into her belly. At the spot where the long raised protrusion of his invisible rod terminated in her womb, a bulge began to grow as two days' worth of cum filled her more than she could have possibly imagined. Her hands clawed at his invisible back and bright red stripes hung in the air as Jacob poured himself into her. He was soon spent and he collapsed on top of her, coming back into view as he did so. Aimée sighed at the comforting feeling of his body atop her, and the boiling hot volumes of cum within her.

On the other side of the crates, things had progressed surprisingly quickly with Martin and Glennis. Their tops were now off and they were kissing passionately. Her hand reached curiously down his pants to find a lovely, warm, stiff surprise within.
"Does that feel good?" she asked.

"Oh yes," he concurred. "Does this?"

His own hand had sought out her treasures below her skirt. His hands displayed surprising tenderness as he found her secret spot. Being a 'mechanic', after all, he had long ago sought out clandestine books that taught him the workings of the mysterious machine called 'woman'.

In answer to his question, Glennis could only nod and gasp, leaning in to kiss him fervently. She pushed his pants down to allow her better access.

Behind the other crates, Abby was now seated lotus-style, mid-air. With only Claude's index fingers touching hers, he was lifting her up and down his monstrous shaft with his extended flight abilities. Each plunge sent a ripple of pleasure through her frame. She knew if she wished, they could go on for hours, but now it seemed best to hurry things along. She reached down with her free hand and began rubbing her clit slowly in time with Claude's cunt-splitting manipulations. She felt the orgasm beginning. In her pleasure she forgot to put up the usual mental precautions.

Like a shock wave from a bomb, her orgasm ripped through the others in the room. Jacob and Aimée, who had been drifting in post-coital slumber found themselves awakened with lovely gasps. Jacob's cock, which had been slowly softening within Aimée, went from half-hard to unbending in a second, and from there to spraying another impossibly huge load into Aimée's cavern as she also gave into every pleasure center in her body being flipped to 'on'. Claude, too, though he had climaxed scarce minutes before, tipped over into climax and filled the tiny redhead to overflowing.

Most surprised of all were Glennis and Martin, who had certainly been engaged in heavy petting, but hadn't been near climax. Martin groaned out in surprise as his cock began shooting ropes of cum onto the dusty floor. Glennis, too, was paralyzed with pleasure -- and the two virgins' only regret was that they weren't able to watch their partner's climax more closely due to being in the thralls of their own.

"Sorry, "whispered Abby's embarrassed voice from behind the crates.

The entire room began to giggle and from there collapsed into laughter. This was probably a good thing, because it distracted the randy companions from the dangerous mating lust that lingered, as always, in the background.

Their needs satisfied, they all began to get dressed again.

* * * *

Hypatia gave a cursory nod to the guard. As usual, the guard dispensed of the customary security checks with the great scholar. She started toward the kitchen-now-lab to check on the progress of the two scientists.

Pasteur was carefully placing the vials back into the incubating safe. There was now a seventh in the mix. The vials were no longer red, but had been spun out on the centrifuge, separating the red from the white cells, and settling the almost amber cells of the Affliction at the very bottom. The top layers had been suctioned away, leaving only the unique cells of the Afflicted in the bottom fourth of each vial. Also within the safe was Pasteur's emergency kit which he had used when saving Aimée's life after her encounter with Bullet. Pasteur closed the safe door and was about to lock it when he heard the footsteps.

"Hypatia, hello," said Jeannie. "How does the battle go?"

"Back and forth, but I believe that triumphs is near."

"Good."

"How are things going with you?" asked Hypatia. "Any progress on the counter-serum?"

"You're about to see for yourself," said Pasteur. "Jeannie has prepared the culture and we think we have it this time."

Before them was a large, ten-liter beaker. The thermometer in the fluid showed it to be just over body temperature. Pasteur took a syringe and squeezed a few drops of light amber fluid into the liquid.

"Who is the donor?" asked Hypatia.

"Surprisingly, it is the new girl Jessamine. The others showed some promise, but we suspect that her being newly Afflicted had something to do with the way her cells took more readily to being synthesized."

"Then why not you?" asked Hypatia. "You were turned not that long ago."

"I was fairly good as well, but still not as strong. Now watch as we add the catalyst."

Jeannie did so, squeezing in some solution from a dropper. The change was instant and dramatic. The amber/gold-ish color began to spread from the place where she'd put in the new fluid and within less than twenty seconds the entire beaker was changed and remained stable with the new color.

"It worked," said Pasteur. "And I'd wager this is ten times faster than whatever method Arnet's people are using."

"That's wonderful," said Hypatia, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. "I'm so proud of you. You will be such a great addition to the cause."

"Will be?" asked Jeannie.

She looked to Hypatia with a curious expression.

Pasteur started to realize the peril, but it was too late. He felt the sharp prick in his shoulder. A second later, his whole world changed.

Jeannie bent over in pain as Arnet's blood rushed into her system. Even with her resistance it took less than a minute for her to look up at them with the blissful, mindless gaze of adoration. Her whole being was now intent on pleasing 'the Master'.

As one, the three of them looked at each other with a clear sense of purpose. Hypatia left the room to inject the guards.

Pasteur and Jeannie began shattering equipment. The container of amber liquid that was potentially world-saving was dumped down the sink. Vials and beakers were smashed. Even the ledger book, which had been on the counter, was burned.

By the time they were done, all that remained was medical equipment which they would retrieve at a later time.

In their obsessive focus, as happened with so many people under Arnet's spell, they did miss one element. The safe remained unnoticed with the door open a tiny crack; its precious contents were still untouched.

* * * *

Frederique, Scaurus, and Palo were cutting a swath through the city. Frederique flew point and was hit more than once by the debilitating rays of the dampeners. However, Palo was able to latch on just as quickly to the source and send a destructive impulse to the individual power supply for each unit.

Soon, they had knocked eight dampeners out of commission and began sweeps around the city seeking out more. Frederique carried a bow. As she flew over the city, she surpassed her legendary status as she disabled foe after foe with impossible shots from obscene distances. Her arrows swooped around corners, dipped, dodged, all of them guided with her mastery of anything to do with the air.

She had just dropped two Afflicted marksmen from a quarter mile away when Palo and Scaurus came zooming out from a block of buildings with shouts of triumph, calling her toward them.

"We've found him," said Scaurus. "We've found the dog! He's barely guarded, no less. This is our chance!"

Palo and Scaurus flew like the wind with Frederique on their heels. Scaurus stopped abruptly on one side of a building.

"He is around this corner," he whispered. "My dear, would you like to do the honors?"

"Like father like son, eh?" said Frederique with a grin. "I would like that -- to see them both meet the same end by the same hand -- mine. I relish the thought."

Frederique flew up and peeked around the corner. Arnet was indeed there. He was surrounded by a mere four bodyguards. Frederique considered flying backward and taking him out with her bow, but decided she would rather have the challenge of taking out the bodyguards and looking directly into the rat's eyes when he died.

At the speed of thought, she whipped around the corner, sword drawn, hurtling toward the worst enemy the Afflicted had yet to see.

She felt slow... sluggish.

She instantly realized the sensation and called out to her former mate.

"Palo, they have dampeners! Take them out!"

The sensation continued and she continued to fall.

It took every ounce of her strength to stay in the air. She feared for the worst and turned as she was falling to see where Palo and Scaurus might be.

What she saw was beyond the worst. Scaurus and Palo were there -- hovering -- their arms folded smugly as they watched her fall.

The last of her strength left her perhaps ten feet from the ground and she fell with a sickening thud. Though she tried, her limbs had no strength to fight Arnet's servants who rushed in and clamped a dampening collar around her neck.

Once she was secure, the area dampeners were shut off. However, Arnet's people took no chances. Frederique's hands were bound behind her, and she still had four attendants, each with a chain connected to her collar.

Palo and Scaurus entered the street and landed by her side. Angry tears were falling down Frederique's cheeks.

"Oh my friends," she sobbed. "How? How did this happen?"

"I was struck in the beginning of this night's battle," explained Scaurus. "But it occurred to me that the best way to serve the Master was to continue the ruse for as long as I could. No one would question or test me during the heat of battle. I infected the ground troops first. Then I got Hypatia while you were talking with Palo about his new gift. Just now, a few minutes ago, Palo joined us as well."

Palo's eyes glimmered with the familiar, mindless gaze so common among Arnet's followers.

"It's for the best, Frederique."

He was smiling and certain -- absolutely convinced by a biological bond that Arnet was the perfect leader for the new order.

Arnet had reached them.

"Master," said Scaurus, kneeling. "I beg your forgiveness. I spoke of you in unflattering ways. As hard as it was for me to do, I fought through it. I had to call you such names in order to lure them in."

"You are forgiven, great general," said Arnet. "It speaks of your strength that you were able to do so for my sake."

Arnet turned and leered at Frederique with a mixture of lust, triumph, and disgust all rolled into one.

"The great Frederique," he said. "You thought you had saved your kind so many years ago. In fact, you were just paving the way for greater things."

"I suppose if you consider a thin-faced, pasty, rat better than a pathetic sniveling weasel -- then yes, this is much greater, you scab of humanity."

A growl went up from everyone around, but Arnet simply grinned.

"Oh, Frederique; as much as it seems you should be punished for such words, I am patient. You yourself will remember saying such things after you are bound to me, and you will beg to be punished for such thoughts. However, I can't have you upsetting my followers. Gag her please."

A length of rope was placed around Frederique's head and pulled tight through her mouth. Arnet stepped aside to speak with Scaurus, Palo, and other lieutenants.

Cora, who had been waiting in the wings, stepped forward to examine Frederique closely.

"So," she said softly, so only Frederique could hear. "This is my competition. Your reputation precedes you, and I see why. Gorgeous, athletic, and..."

Saying this, Cora paused. She removed a razor-sharp poniard from her dress. With a malicious glint in her eye, she pushed it down Frederique's cleavage to slice the leather top wide open.

"My, oh my, those are amazing," continued Cora. "I'll have to learn how to take this shape, at least in the breast department."

If Cora had thought she would be demeaning Frederique, she was mistaken. The proud heroine now stood even taller, her bare breasts indeed 'magnificent'. Her refusal to allow the slightest hint of shame to enter her expression simply made her more beautiful, more dignified.

Several pops lit up the air. Bullet, Brolly, and every other deplaceur appeared.

"Report?" asked Arnet.

"We are nearly complete," said Brolly. "Tonight was the snowball night. Once we turned the first few, they revealed the locations of their friends, and so on. By our count, there are fewer than ten unaccounted for. "

"May I ask, are the four young ones among the number we are missing?"

"I fear they are, Master," said Bullet.

"Good," said Arnet.

"Why good, master?" asked Scaurus

He turned back to Frederique and leered at her now exposed breasts. Then he moved close to her, his chest brushing against hers suggestively. He spoke into her ear.

"You see, Frederique, I am waiting to turn you," he explained. "I have taken your mate, but there are still your children. The problem is; if I turn you now, you will be happy when I bind them to me with my blood. What I want is to see you suffer the ultimate loss. I want you to watch your children fall to my needle. Once I see you in absolute despair, then I will bring you over to the light."

Fear flashed through Frederique's eyes. This was duly noticed by Arnet and his pulse quickened.

"Oh yes, that will be just the thing," he said.

He lifted a hand to caress one of Frederique's breasts. Then he gave a firm pinch to her nipple.

"Of course, I might also let a few men enjoy you before that moment as well. The great Frederique, taken against her will. What do you think of that?"

Her eyes showed no hint of fear at this. To Frederique, her body was nothing. It could be ravaged, tortured and abused in any way. She would heal and her mind was too strong to worry about such insignificant things as her body. To see her children succumb to Arnet was truly her greatest fear.

Arnet turned to Brolly. "How is the tracker coming along?"

"It's good," said the jovial deplaceur. "We have very good news. The serum factory was sabotaged today, by six people, four of whom we believe to be our targets. Franz's equipment was able to get an imprint of all of them. As soon as they jump again we'll be able to find them."

"Perfect," said Arnet. "You set things in order here. Let us return to Lyndhurst. The entire world should be ours within week -- two at the most."

Bullet reached out and took Arnet back to the American castle he had appropriated on the Hudson River.

Brolly evaluated Frederique carefully.

"We could fly you, I suppose," he said. "The problem with that is there is more risk in transport. What should we do? I know."

With a seemingly casual swipe of his fist, he caught her across the jaw and her form went limp.

"On the count of three, turn off the dampener," he said. "We'll jump, and the instant we're there switch it back on. One. Two. Three."

* * * *

Abby looked up fearfully.

Something is wrong. Something is very, very wrong, she thought.

She reached out with every sense she possessed.

"Your father has been turned," she said to Claude and Aimée. "So have Scaurus, Jeannie, and Pasteur. Nearly everyone has been taken."

"It's time then," said Claude. "We fight now."

"No!" rang a voice in their heads.

To whom it belonged, they couldn't tell, but it seemed unwise to contradict the voice booming in their minds.

"Wait," said the voice. "Soon."

They waited in silence, their anxiousness growing by the moment.

For five, then ten minutes, they sat in silence.

"Now!!!" cried the voice. "But do not deplace yet. Good luck!"

Galen, in his enforced hibernation, also heard the voice cry 'now'. Though his body had been slowed, his mind had spent the past few days pondering the possible scenarios and he had arrived at what he believed was the best solution to their peril. Now he just needed to tell someone. Upon hearing the disembodied voice, he allowed his system to speed up enough to give him some energy.

"Abby!" he cried with his mind. "Abby! Are you there?"

"Yes. Yes, Galen! I am here. Where are you?"

"I haven't much time. Now listen!"

Galen sent out a rapid and intense series of thoughts and images to Abby. The others could simply stand by as she received the message.

"I see," she said when he was done. "We'll do our best."

"Must go," said Galen's voice. "Must sleep or be turned. God speed."

"What is it?" asked Jacob. "What do we need to do?"

"I... it's big," said Abby. "I'm not sure how to explain it now and I have to stay focused. Galen put a great deal of information in my head, but I'm not the scientist he is. I need to focus on that. First we need a lab. Take us to the clinic."

Their search began. With Claude's help they flew close to buildings, a chain of six bodies snaking about through the shadows. As the others kept a watchful eye, Abby simply let herself be flown about, her face was a mask of concentration, focused entirely on the information Galen had pushed into her head.

When they arrived at the clinic, their first target was the laboratory. They landed on the roof of a building across the street. Peering over the edge, Claude cursed angrily. The building was heavily guarded.

"Perhaps a hospital," suggested Jacob. "Would they have what we need?"

"I doubt it," said Abby. "They wouldn't have the technology that is necessary."

The blind girl screwed up her face in frustration.

"Damn it!" she whispered. "Keeping track of all of these instructions is so hard."

Aimée pulled the others aside.

"This is beyond frustrating," she said. "We need her abilities to help us get into the lab, or at least to help us find somewhere else where there is a lab. But if she can't speak without losing her concentration, how is she going to reach into other's minds?"

"Might I make a suggestion?" said Martin.

"Anything is welcome," said Claude.

"I don't mean any offense by this," said the clockmaker. "But, it is likely that I have the most scientific mind of all of us. Is there a chance that the lovely redhead could put these same ideas she's speaking of into my mind? I could probably retain them easier and she could use her abilities to help in this adventure."

They nodded in agreement and Aimée made the suggestion to Abby.

Though her brow was wrinkled with concentration, Abby agreed that it might be possible.

Martin went to her.

"How should we do this?" he asked.

"Kiss me," said Abby.

As they had a few hours before, when Abby had related their entire tale through her unique connection, Abby drew Martin close and pressed her lips to his. She was cautious, at first, putting just an image or two into his head while still focusing on the information Galen had given her.

"It's working," she said softly. "But we need more."

She put her hands up, cradling his face in her hands while they kissed.

"We need more," she said. "The connection happens through our nervous systems."

"Oh," stammered Martin. "I'm not sure how we would..."

"Come here, dear," she whispered.

She pushed her bodice down, revealing her lovely right breast. Martin, in full innocence, blushed furiously.

Abby would have been gentler in other circumstances but expedience was necessary at the moment.

"It's alright," she whispered. "Just fall into me, it will be easy enough."

She took his hand and guided it to her breast. He cupped it tenderly and was then pulled into a kiss so passionate Martin had no chance to think about being embarrassed.

From his hand to her breast, from her lips to his, from where their bodies touched, their bond was suddenly complete. Over those pathways, Abby sent the information and images Galen had given to her.

They were frozen in that way for what seemed like minutes, but they were actually only merged for a few seconds. When their lips parted, Martin nodded in the affirmative.

"I understand," he said. "It makes sense."

"All of it?" asked Abby.

"I think so," he said. "I don't think we need fear me forgetting it."

"Wonderful," said Abby.

Now free from having to remember every last detail Galen had given her, Abby turned her attention to trying to find the minds of Afflicted nearby.
"I found the woman, Sigrid. She's here, but she's been turned. In reading her mind, I discovered that there is a lab in a home where your parents have been living. Galen and the other scientists set up a lab in the second kitchen. Sigrid has seen it and she even knows a secret way to get to the place."

"Show me the way," said Claude. "I'll get us there."

They were soon diving below ground and zooming through the opulent, tiled secret tube that few people knew about. Within a quarter hour, they arrived at the recessed hatch which led to the entrance to the underground mansion.

Curiously, the lavish mansion was entirely abandoned. It seemed that once Hypatia had turned the guards, they had abandoned their stations and joined the battles above. The companions were able to walk in unnoticed. Abby could detect no guards anywhere within range.

They searched the house until they found the makeshift lab and were shocked and saddened to see the destruction.

"Where else?" asked Claude. "Could we raid a hospital, or a pharmacist for supplies?"

"I suppose," said Abby. "The frustrating thing is; all we need are some extra vials and syringes. We have the centrifuge and everything else right here."

Martin, with his innate curiosity for machines had noticed the safe. Not having anything else to do, he stepped across the fragments of glass and looked down at it. He wondered whether he could sound out the combination. To his surprise, the door swung open at his touch.

"My friends," he said. "In here might be what we need."

He began removing the contents and placing them on the counter. The tray of vials, standing with shimmering amber contents, was a glistening beacon of hope. Beside it lay Pasteur's medical kit which held the syringes and tubes which might allow them to complete their task.

"So," said Claude, "what exactly are we supposed to do?"

Abby took a deep breath.

"My dear companions," she said. "Galen sent me some curious instructions and I hope you are prepared for what he suggests."

She gestured to the entire group. "We are going to become mates."

"Who with who?" asked Aimée.

"All of us," said Abby. "He communicated that it was dangerous, but he proposed that all of us be mated together, Glennis included. He did not know about Martin, but he did say we would need to include the blood of a mortal. When you consider the words of the prophecy, it makes a great deal of sense."

"How?" asked Jacob. "How is it possible that all of us should mate at once? As I understand it, once the first mate's blood takes hold, any cells from another donor are blocked out for at least a few months."

"Those are the instructions that are now in Martin's head. Ordinarily, first mating can only happen with one person. However, if we combine our blood we can all be bound at once. Galen only sent me the process without much explanation as to why. His mind seemed to be thinking along the lines that our combined gifts might become the weapon we need against Arnet."

Events were moving so rapidly, they didn't have time to debate. They simply knew that it must be done. They agreed on the spot that they should proceed.

"We need six containers," said Martin. "So we should sterilize these seven in the rack and get started."

"Wait!" cried Aimée. "Is the fluid in these vials from others of our kind?"

"It would appear so," said Abby. "The markings and numbers are the same they use at the lab to identify each donor."

"Don't you see!" cried Aimée. "In here is our seventh? One of these is the seventh in the prophecy. We need to take the Afflicted cells from one of these and add it to the mix. What's even worse, the seventh is unknown. Just as it is in the prophecy."

They stood in bemused silence at the realization. The events in the past days and hours had been unfolding with a startling sense of purpose. That they would find Martin in Paris; that Aimée would feel the need to bring him to them; that the clinic should be guarded and they would find themselves in this place where there were seven vials -- all of these were inevitable signs of fate. They were puppets on a great stage. Were their strings being held by the Elders, or someone else, or the universe itself? They couldn't be certain of any answers, but they knew that something had been guiding their lives to this very moment.

"So our seventh mate is in one of these vials?" asked Claude.

"They are," said Abby. "To make the plot even thicker, we need the other vials to process our own blood. We must choose now."

"Do you know who they belong to?" asked Aimée of Abby.

"No," said Abby. "Without the ledger, it is impossible to know. Plus, I don't have Madame Villepreux-Power's gift of looking into cells. Our choice will have to be a guess. We also have to realize that the cells in whichever vial will determine someone who will be our mate for life."

The six of them stared at the vials, overwhelmed by the implications of their choice.

"I say we let Glennis choose," said Jacob. "She has that thing, just a natural ability about her. If anyone can pick the right one, it would be her."

"I agree," said Claude. "Go on Glennis. Don't be afraid. Just choose. I'm sure the one you pick will be the correct one."

Glennis nodded and held her hand over the vials. She lifted and felt each one. After a few moments of deliberation, she picked one and placed it at the end.

"This one," she said. "It just feels right."

The decision was made. The cells of their seventh mate waited expectantly in the one vial.

The other vials were scrubbed and sterilized with boiling water from the other kitchen.

It was now Martin's turn to act. Following the instructions Abby had transmitted to him, he began the careful preparation of drawing the blood and preparing it painstakingly before placing the vials into the centrifuge. The interval while they watched the heavy machine spin was fraught with anxiety and inner conjecture about how this might go, and who their seventh mate might be.

Abby sensed the disquiet in her friends and as the machine spun down, she sent out a soothing feeling to each of them. When the centrifuge made its final revolution they were calm and ready for what was to come.

Martin's spun blood was 'normal'. There was an upper level of plasma, a narrow 'buffy' coat in the middle, and a dark red layer at the bottom. With the four Afflicted, there were four layers -- the amber stripe at the bottom being their target. Glennis also had four layers, white at the top, a buffy coat, a nearly golden layer below that, and then red.

Martin carefully extracted the Afflicted amber layers, his central layer, and both of Glennis's middle layers. The contents of all were added to their donor's tube and then the vial was spun once more, forming a multihued, glistening mixture which seemed to scintillate with complementary life.

"We should go to a safe place," said Abby. "We don't know what will happen."

They retired to a parlor that had several couches. Each person rolled up their sleeve.

"Are we prepared for this?" Abby asked. "I know the four of us have been ready to join with each other for some time. Glennis and Martin, this is a huge decision. Do you make it freely?"

"I can't speak for Glennis," said Martin, "but as I understand it, this world is at risk. If I can help, I will."

Glennis nodded, silently agreeing with his Martin's sentiments.

"Very well then," said Abby. "Martin will inject each of us, then me, and finally himself."

The syringe was 10 ccs and it was carefully marked. The final product of their combined fluids had come to almost eight. Martin went to each companion and carefully pushed the plunger down putting just a cc into each of them. He finished all but Abby, and using his own eyes, she carefully put his dose into his arm. Last, he injected the empath. When he removed the needle, he carefully set it back in a protective case from Pasteur's bag, knowing that the contents were the most precious thing on earth.

They waited a few minutes and it was actually Jacob who felt the effects first. He gasped and began rubbing his arm where he'd gotten the shot.

"What's happening?" he asked. "This isn't supposed to feel like this. It feels wrong."

"It's the new blood," said Abby calmly. "Especially Glennis's. Your system is fighting it, but it will come around."

"Get it out!" he cried. "This is wrong! This is so wrong!"

"Jacob, calm yourself," she urged him in her mind.

She pushed out powerful, drowsy thoughts to everyone in the room. One by one they collapsed on their couches until it was just her. Anyone else might well have panicked and done harm to themself. However, Abby had spent her life controlling her own emotions. She was able to remove her thoughts to a quiet place as the conflict within her raged. Soon, she grew sleepy too and fell asleep as her system was transformed.

Fifteen minutes or so later, all save Glennis awoke. They looked at each other with a renewed sense of connection, longing, and love. Curiously, the overwhelming lust for mating that came with the blood ceremony was muted. It was there, but not so primal, nor insistent. Each of the boys felt a longing for the girls that was like the ultimate puppy love, a hundred times over, and vice versa with the girls. For those of the same sex, the young men felt they had gained new brothers for they truly were 'blood brothers'. Abby and Aimée felt the same. They had always loved each other and felt a distinct connection, but now it was at the core of their beings.

Claude felt something beyond that. He felt a curious sense of completion beyond those in the room.

"Mother," he said, softly.

"What do you mean?" asked Aimée.

"Our seventh mate. That's who it is."

"How do you know?" asked his sister.

"The best way I can explain it is that I have lain with mother enough to know what she feels like. When I was inside of her, I could feel her cells speaking to me. Now, they are speaking all of the time, they are singing to us."

"This is true," said Jacob. "I was having a hard time putting my finger on it, but that's exactly it. I can feel her there."

"Well," said Aimée with a bemused grin. "My mother is now my mate... and the mate of my mates as well."

"Does that bother you?" asked Martin.

"No, not at all. It is lovely," said Aimée. "It will just take some getting used to. For now, I'm a bit worried about our other new mate. What is going on with Glennis?"

All of them looked at Glennis with concern. Abby felt the fair girl's skin and was alarmed at how hot she was burning.

"I think it's because she's so different," Abby explained. "Her kind last mixed with the main branch of humanity many thousands of years ago. Though she's human, it seems like her system is fighting with our cells. She might reject us."

"What will happen then?" asked Jacob.

"She might just be sick and go back to being just 'her', or she might die. Only time will tell."

They sat beside her, deeply worried. Aimée retrieved a cold cloth to mop Glennis's forehead as their friend's body fought off what it viewed as intruders.

"Isn't there anything we can do?" asked Martin.

"I'll try," said Abby.

She reached into Glennis's system as well as she could.

"It's alright," she said, sending out soothing messages.

She could not speak on the cellular level like Pasteur and Jeannie, but she liked to believe her message had some effect. She kept sending out soothing thoughts to every part of Glennis's body. Friends, she kept saying. We are friends.

It was perhaps an hour later when Glennis's eyes fluttered open.

"Hello, my loves," she said with a smile.

They were overjoyed. Hugs and kisses abounded.

"Oh my goodness," said Glennis suddenly. "What world is this?"

Her question made sense to all of them. The world seemed transformed. It wasn't just that colors were sharper and sounds were clearer. The world was magnified -- times six. Everything each of them saw, the others saw, too (except through Abby's eyes, of course). Curiously, it wasn't even confusing. It was as though the entire world was being seen through six sensory lenses and their newly transformed brains were more than capable of processing all of that data.

"Wait, let me try something," said Aimée.

She furrowed her brow in great concentration, but nothing happened.

"Claude, help me please," she said. "I wish to fly."

He was several feet from her, but he understood her meaning. With their new connection, he sent instructions, in a way, and her body suddenly knew how. She floated into the air effortlessly. Floating back down, she landed. She had never been able to do such a thing before. Claude had always needed to touch her to extend his flying gift.

"Now, stop telling me," she said.

He did, severing the secret connection with his sister's system.

She could no longer do it. It seemed they could connect in some way -- like flipping a switch on a train track -- and they could give each other their abilities but it wasn't permanent. Not yet, at least. They had to will their separate skills to each of their companions.

Martin wondered; he was newly Afflicted, what might his skills be? He reached out with his senses, and there it was. Everything, everywhere, made sense. He could see every gear in the clocks on the walls. He could see the water flowing below the house and through pipes. He reached out with his mind and turned the faucet in a bathtub on and off. Next, he decided to look into Aimée.

He saw everything. He saw her heart and her lungs. He saw her breasts and her sexual organs. He saw the lovely nerve pathways stretching out and connecting them all.

He looked even closer.

He saw cells. He saw each membrane, each nucleus, each ribosome -- everything.

Abby sensed his probing and she was unable to hide her alarm. Everyone felt her emotions and knew her thoughts at once. She relayed the clockmaker's history to Martin quickly.

"No," he said aloud. "I will never do that. Never. Let's be clear. Even if it means we can't overcome Arnet, I will never take a life in that way."

They nodded. They were bound to him and knew he was speaking the truth.

"What should we do?" asked Jacob.

"I think we should wait," said Claude. "It is about an hour until daylight. We should rest here today. Learn our new skills, and form a rescue party tomorrow."

"No," said the mysterious voice once more. "The Elders grow impatient. It must be now. Tomorrow you will all be lost."

"Who are you?" asked Abby.

There was no reply.

"Tonight it is, then," said Claude. "We could fly, but that will eat precious time."

"We'll jump," said Aimée. "But where, I'm not sure."

"Let me get a fix," said Abby.

She reached out with her mind and was stunned to find that distance was suddenly no issue. Perhaps it was her strength mixed with Aimée's. Before they had mated, Aimée could jump anywhere in the world as long as she could get a fix. Now, Abby's senses could do the same. It was like Aimée's jumping ability had meshed with her own empath ability. She had been able to sense Jacob or Claude from great distances due to her intimacy and love for them. Abby now realized she could push her mind to Japan if she wished, and pick out the thoughts of a complete stranger. Using this new ability, she scanned past thousands upon thousands of minds until landing on one familiar to her.

"It is Anders," she said. "He's standing guard outside the place they call Lyndhurst. I'm looking through his eyes and there is a meadow nearby. Aimée, can you see it?"

"Yes, Abby," said Aimée. "It is very clear in my mind."

"Are we ready?" asked Claude.

"We're ready," said Glennis in a calm and confident tone.

The voice didn't seem to place any restrictions on deplacing now, so they jumped. An instant later they were standing in a quiet grove. Lyndhurst was just beyond.

Aimée felt the start of a pop. Though they weren't even physically connected, she whisked them out again. They were back at the underground mansion.

"What happened?" asked Martin.

"Jumpers, they... wait, they are coming!"

She deplaced them again, this time to the factory they had sabotaged. Several people, busy with repairs, looked up in surprise and started toward them.

"They're tracking us!" cried Aimée. "Fly! We have to fly!"

Claude lifted them all, guiding them, and whisked them out through an open window. The factory was in a warehouse just outside of Lyndhurst. An alarm claxon went off and several fliers on the ramparts immediately took to the air. Claude took them higher and higher. An aerial battle was soon underway.

The companions were at a clear disadvantage. They could all fly now, so long as they were connected to Claude's mind. That was the easy part. The hard part was none of them had been trained for flight combat except Claude. Abby was able to obscure some of their pursuers minds, but more and more opponents took to the air and any protection she could give them was soon diminished because of the numbers.

They climbed higher and higher, being pursued by growing numbers. Looking down, they saw that the skirmish had moved out over the river. Jacob, Claude, and Aimée placed their friends in the middle and moved outside of them, circling warily as Arnet's followers moved in.

Abby became alarmed when she sensed the approach of Franz. He was being flown toward them by Oppo. Reaching into their thoughts, she knew they were carrying a portable dampener and Franz would soon have the crippling beam pointed at them.

She passed on this information to the companions. They exchanged worried looks as they saw the inventor's hand raise and reach for the trigger.

A moment later, Franz watched with satisfaction as the six enemies crumbled under the effects of his dampening beam and went tumbling toward the river below.

* * * *

Below, Arnet had rushed to the courtyard of Lyndhurst and was watching the skies with interest. Franz had given him a pair of red-enhanced binoculars that allowed him to see amazingly well at night. Though the figures were a great distance up, Arnet could still make out some of what the shapes were doing.

He watched with satisfaction as six bodies began to fall from the great distance above.

They plummeted toward the Hudson River, and he couldn't help but laugh as they hit the water with a phenomenal splash. Fliers descended to retrieve the unconscious bodies from the water.

The courtyard soon filled with hundreds of Arnet's followers. Frederique was retrieved and chained by Arnet's side. She wore the dampening collar and her magnificent breasts were still bared for all to see. Even through this, her amazing beauty seemed to sparkle even more from her defiance and pride.

The six companions, dragged from the river, were revived and forced to kneel before Arnet. Dampeners were placed around their necks.

The companions exchanged private glances as if to say 'do you see them?'

Each of them nodded and looked at the daunting figures that had been appearing.

On every wall and every rooftop in the area there were cloaked figures which went unnoticed by Arnet and his people. In these figures' hands were curious metallic rods. Each device glowed with an ominous nimbus that spoke of dire portents. The Elders had arrived and they were preparing for the worst.

"Here are your children, Frederique," said Arnet. "Kneeling before me, and soon their great power will belong to me as well."

"I beg of you, not them," sobbed Frederique. "Take me. I will be your slave for eternity, but leave these children to live a free life."

"Who is really free?" asked Arnet. "We are all bound by rules and restrictions, by hungers and needs. Now, they will simply be bound to me. It will be simpler that way."
It was clear that none of her pleas would have any effect on Arnet. Having nothing to lose, Frederique lashed out one final time.

"I remember your father," said Frederique through gritted teeth. "He was a sad, pathetic, weasel of a man who everyone hated on first sight. He was pathetic in bed as well. I can't tell you how many times I caught him pleasuring himself outside of the girls' bathing rooms, or watching other cadets fuck through a keyhole while he pounded his twisted noodle of a cock."

"Stop," said Arnet.

"It was no wonder he developed the gift he did. The gift matches the person. I flew because I was unafraid and wished for the clouds. He was so pitiable, so contemptible, so laughable -- the only way he would ever have any love or respect in this world was to compel others to do so through his pathogenic infection of self."

"I said stop."

"I won't," cried Frederique. "He was a human contagion. He was syphilis and gonorrhea personified. He was a pox on The Afflicted and humanity. I lanced the pathetic boil called Jacinto and I swear on all that is holy I will snuff out your miserable life as well."

"I -- said -- stop!" cried Arnet.

With the back of his hand he smacked Frederique so hard her neck looked almost like it snapped. The sound of the blow rang in the silence of the courtyard. When she raised her face again it was flushed and angry but she was no less proud.

"Do it now!" cried Arnet. "The sun approaches. When the moon rises again, I want it to reveal a world where every member of the Afflicted is entirely loyal to me."

Six attendants stepped forward and placed needles to the necks of the companions.

Frederique sobbed quietly as the needles sank into veins and the syringes plunged the eternal bond of Arnet into the friends.

Their bodies twitched, their faces blanched and they slumped where they were kneeling, and then...

"Master," said Abby, raising her face with an angelic smile. "Will you forgive us for resisting you? How foolish we've been."

"Master, forgive us," said Claude. The others chimed in, speaking words of worship and obeisance.

"Ah, my children. How wonderful to finally have you aboard, especially you, my lovely empath. What wonders we will work with your marvelous mind."

"Anything for you, Master."

"Free them," said Arnet. "Unloose their collars. I want her children to have the honor of bringing their mother -- the Great Frederique -- under my control."

The attendants did as ordered and unchained the companions.

"Have her son do it," said Arnet. "How wonderful it will be for him to deliver the final blow."

Franz and his assistants unlocked the collars and the companions stood.

"Very good," he said. "Now Claude, come and help your master."

Claude walked to his mother's side and accepted the syringe which was offered to him by Scaurus.

"It will all be over soon, Mother," he said.

The needle started toward her neck.

"Master!" said Franz in alarm.

"Not now, Franz," said Arnet.

The needle was already in Frederique's neck. Claude pulled it out and held it aloft, displaying the empty glass cylinder.

Frederique looked at Arnet, her face aglow with a joyous, angelic smile.

The figures on the rooftops raised their peculiar weapons to the sky. The glow between each rod began to grow.

"Behold!" cried Arnet. "Frederique: the mighty Frederique. Murderer of my father, coward who waited in hiding for nearly a century -- Frederique is mine now. "

"Master!" cried Franz.

"What is it, you fool?" asked Arnet.

"These collars, they weren't working. The power was on, but the field wasn't being generated. They've been tampered with internally."

"What does that matter?" asked Arnet.

"It means that these six very powerful young people were not being suppressed when they were brought into your presence."

"No, they weren't," said Frederique.

The reason for her smile was now apparent, and it wasn't borne of adoration for Arnet.

The collar around her neck fell to the ground and she stood, bare breasted and towering over the rat like man. Everyone there could see that the wonderful glow illuminating her skin was also reflected in the faces of the other six companions.

They were complete now. Their seventh had been found and after Claude had injected the syringe filled with their cells, she was bound to them. They could feel the strength surging through their systems as their final mate completed their powers.

"Take them!" cried Arnet. "Kill them!"

But he was too late. In their immediate vicinity, the fifty or so people closest to them found themselves paralyzed by Abby's powerful mind. The rest of the people began rushing in with hopes of protecting their master.

It was Glennis who struck next, sending out a wave of sleep through the ranks around them.

For those on the ground, it simply meant a slow collapse. For those in the air, the issue was more alarming.

"Claude! Aimée! Catch them!" cried Frederique.

Claude reached out with his arm and even from the distance, cushioned the fall of at least twenty fliers. For those he missed, Aimée winked into the air. Zip, zip, zip. Miraculously, she appeared in the air by each of them and transported them to the ground. Taking a fraction of a second each, they were able to save all who had been in the air.

This all happened in a few seconds.

Frederique was a sight to behold. Now no longer manacled, she simply ripped off her tattered leather top and looked around at the frozen people near to them in a rage.

Arnet, specifically, was the target of her ire. His body was frozen, but his eyes darted about fearfully, looking between the companions and the fierce Frederique. She crossed to him and growled into his ear.

"How should I kill you," she said in a low voice. "A blade is too kind. I could rend you into pieces with wind. I could drop you from the heavens onto the rocks? Like Prometheus, I could cut out your liver each day for the rest of your life and watch you writhe in pain as it grew back."

Glennis put a hand on Frederique's bare shoulder.

"My sister, I beg of you, deal with him compassionately. It is important."

With her eyes, Glennis indicated the ominous figures standing on the rooftops. Frederique was seeing them for the first time.

"Who are they?" she whispered.

"They are my kind," said Glennis. "I have reason to believe that how you deal with him could have a great impact on how they deal with us."

"I see," said Frederique.

She tempered her rage.

"Get him out of my sight," she said through gritted teeth. "We'll deal with him later, but if I have to look at him one second longer I can't be held accountable for my actions."

A moment later, Aimée, Abby, and Martin reached out to touch Arnet -- the four of them disappeared.

Far away, in a cave known to no one, Arnet awoke to find himself bound to a table. He felt a cold drip of water hit his face.

"The water will drip once a minute," said a voice that seemed to belong to the empath. "It will give you enough to survive on until we return for you."

The four returned and the companions looked up with relief at the rooftops. The Elders who had been readying their weapons were fading away. It seemed they were confident in the companions' abilities from that point forward.

"What do we do now?" asked Claude.

"Daylight approaches," said Frederique. "Whatever we do, we need to get our kind below."

They agreed. They found that by touching each other, they could increase in strength so they could transport ten or more people at a time to down below. The problem with that was the people were spread so far around it wasn't that easy to find ten people together.

The sky was growing brighter and there were still several hundred of the Afflicted to get down below.

"Damn it!" cried Aimée. "We're not going to make it."

"Let me take a look, come here daughter," said Frederique.

Frederique focused on the sleeping people all around them.

"Jacob, come here," she said.

Jacob came to her side and Frederique took his hand in hers. She took Aimée's with her other.

"There is something more here," she said. "We are combined now. There may be more we can do."

Through three pairs of eyes they examined the problem. They felt a fourth presence joining them, it was Martin.

"Hello, my new mate," he said to Frederique. "I am Martin, the clockmaker."

"Ah, hello Martin. I have a particular fondness for clockmakers. I look forward to getting to know you better. Right now, however, we need to find a way to move these hundreds of people below in a hurry."

"Ah, I see," said Martin. "Glennis, would you mind helping?"

"Of course," said the fair girl.

Abby and Claude joined them peripherally. Claude had risen to watch for anyone approaching and Abby was scanning all of the minds around them. The five companions focused in on the problem. As rapid as she was, Aimée simply didn't have time to transport the hundreds of bodies into somewhere below ground before the sun rose.

"How do you move someone?" asked Martin, aloud.

"Well, I... I think it would be easiest to show you," said Aimée.

"Show me, too," said Glennis.

Aimée opened her mind, took their hands, and jumped to a spot a few feet away.

"I see," said Martin. "Well, I think I see. I don't know if I could do it myself yet, but I understand the concept."

"So do I," said Glennis. "You just... like this."

She kept hold of their hands and they winked out and back to where they had been -- but it was Glennis who did it.

"Well done," said Aimée.

"I think I only did it because I was touching you," said Glennis.

"Yes, but we don't have to. With our powers, we can move them without touching them. Just... see them elsewhere and they will go. Trust me."

"Alright," said Aimée skeptically. "I'll try."

"We'll help you," said Frederique.

Aimée focused in on a large group of forty people. In her mind, the companions saw her envisioning the floor of the factory they had sabotaged. She gathered in her focus, and they bolstered her energy.

Whoosh!

The people were gone. They knew in their minds that the forty people had reached their destination safely.

"Yes!" said Aimée in triumph.

With that discovery, they quickly moved every person from out in the open back to someplace below. It was a tight fit. The hallways and outbuildings of Lyndhurst were stuffed to the brim with sleepers, but by the time the sun rose, everyone was indoors and all windows had been closed and curtains pulled tight. Everyone was safe.

They found the unconscious bodies of Madame Villepreux-Power, Pasteur, and Colette.

"We must try and cure them first," said Abby. "If we can cure them, they can help us with the rest."

Abby focused her senses in on Villepreux-Power. The others joined her. With Abby, they could sense the 'feeling' of the biologist's body. With Aimée's abilities, it was as though they could jump from one place to the next within her system. With Jacob's invisibility gift, they could pass among Jeannie's cells undetected. With Claude's flying ability, they could zoom through passages of the body as though they were soaring. With Glennis, the gift was intangible, but no less important. Glennis added a calm to the mix. Frederique, beyond her flying, added confidence and strength. Last, and the most important in what they were trying, they were able use Martin's skills to decipher the very structure of Jeannie's cells. This was the second set of knowledge that Galen had passed to Martin by way of Abby.

The companions flew and swooped, jumped and 'felt' through the entire bloodstream of Jeannie. After a short while, they were able to see the different cells. There were red cells and white cells, nerve cells and muscle tissue. Pulsing with a different sort of light, there were the cells of the Affliction. They saw Jeannie's own unique cells. Next, were the cells of Pasteur; there were far fewer of them, but they were there -- pulsing with love and reinforcing her mated bond with the other scientist, but that love was suppressed by the last. Pulsing and angry yellow, were Arnet's cells. The companions followed the trail of those cells, and, not surprisingly, found the greatest concentration in Villepreux-Power's brain. If there was a spot for loyalty in the human brain, that's where Arnet's cells were gathered. In a way, they were like a horrible lamprey, attached to the cells within the brain and feeding off of them, forcing them to think of only one thing. Martin dug in and could actually sense images of Arnet himself burned into the code of the parasitic cells.

"We should simply kill them," thought Frederique. "We have the power, we canburst every last one of the problem cells."

"We could, but it would take too long," chimed in Abby's voice.

"It's true," said Martin. "There is a problem with that. Even with our combined power, there are too many countless cells in this body. If we should leave even one of Arnet's, his infection will return. What we need to do is infect his actual cells, to use them against themselves. These are the last of the directions from Galen, and I think they make sense to me. Can you find me someone who is sick? Someone who is noticeably ill? We need an aggressor. We need something that attacks...and replicates."

Aimée looked at the sleeping enemies around them. She saw a young mortal woman with pox on her face and they turned their attention to her.

With their combined minds, they peered into the young woman's system and it took everything they had not to pull back out in shock. The blood of this young mortal was a seething mass of infection, smallpox to be exact.

"I think I see a way," said Martin.

They were all silent as he studied the virus cells causing the pox.

He looked for several minutes, examining the inner workings of the cells, applying his analytical mind to their functions. Finally, he looked up with a grim smile.

"I'm ready," he said, calmly.

They joined him as he turned his attention back to Villepreux-Power.

In the brain of Villepreux-Power, Martin focused his attention on a concentration of cells that bore Arnet's mark. With his companions' power behind him, he began altering one of the cells. In the center of the Arnet cell, a dumbbell-like shape modeled after the smallpox virus began to form. However, it stopped taking shape and the cell died. Martin tried again, and again he failed.

Finally, he pushed into a third cell and it transformed. Once the transition was complete, the cell suddenly had a new purpose. It no longer wished to bind its host to Arnet. Now, it merely wished to make all of its brethren like itself. It turned on its new mission and found the nearest Arnet-Afflicted cell.

Because the cell approaching it was of its kin, the next Arnet cell did not attempt any sort of defense when the newly-infected cell pushed up against it. By the time the cell suspected anything, it was too late. The 'infected' cell had injected new DNA, and now there were two cells with a new purpose. These cells were now a virus, but not one that would be targeted by the 'native' Afflicted cells in the system of Villepreux-Power. For one thing, they were of the same kind. For another, they weren't causing harm. In social terms, all that the infected Arnet cells were doing was talking amongst each other. There was no cause for alarm within the biologist's system.

With surprising rapidity, the new virus spread. It did not wish to attack other Afflicted cells, nor did it wish to attack its host. Its only mission was to find cells marked with Arnet's code and 'convert' them to a new purpose.

It was, however, a true virus. Though Abby had put a deep sleep suggestion upon her, Jeannie still woke up from the fever and she looked visibly pale. Crying out, she fell to her knees and wretched. Next, her face became flushed with a rosy pox-like bloom, as did the skin on her arms and hands.

"What's happening," she choked out.

"We're bringing you back," said Abby.

Her breathing was labored. An internal struggle, both emotional and physical, was raging through her body. She gasped for breath, as though being choked and then... it was gone. Arnet's modified cells were still there in her system, but they now wandered without a purpose. They had done the new job they had been programmed to do. The Arnet-cells had released their grip on her mind and within a few days, they would perish, having no further purpose to exist.

Villepreux-Power released a great sigh from her lungs and lowered her head. When she lifted it again, her eyes were clear. She no longer bore the glazed expression so common among those bound to Arnet.

Those clear eyes filled with tears.

"Oh Frederique, oh children" she sobbed. "I'm so sorry. I would have taken my own life a thousand times before putting you at risk."

"I know, Jeannie. I know," said Abby.

Abby cradled the scientist as she sobbed into her shoulder.

They looked up in surprise to see that the sun was once again setting. The work had been exhausting and painstaking. One thing was clear. They could not cure the world in this fashion. It had taken a great deal of work to cure Jeannie and it would take days, months even, to cure the rest of their kind of they used the same method.

With Jeannie, they started working in the laboratory Arnet had constructed. It gave them great satisfaction to know the equipment Arnet had used for such horrible things was being turned against him. Villepreux-Power solved the first part of the equation, but they needed to cure Pasteur as well to continue. Once they altered the cells in Pasteur's body (a very tiring process) he and Jeannie were able to nearly perfect it. Colette, Galen's companion, was also cured 'by hand' and her phenomenally sharp mind provided the final part of the equation. Extracting the altered cells from the systems of Jeannie, Pasteur, and Colette, they were able to create what was best described as an infectious vaccine.

First, they sought out all of the deplaceurs and cured them. The jumpers would be their best assets in the days to come.

Near the end of that night, the scientists had replicated the anti-serum for New York's water supply and had perfected an airborne Afflicted cure which was loaded into atomizers.

Shortly before sunrise , the compound around Lyndhurst was a chorus of awakenings. The Afflicted woke with shame at having turned against their race. The mortals woke as if from a bad nightmare, especially for some who had witnessed Arnet's greatest atrocities.

At the 'suggestion' of Abby (along with the added help of her new mates), the majority of mortals found themselves wandering toward the town. They would soon board trains and return to their homes and families, their days or weeks with Arnet a curious blip, an odd shared dream that none could explain.

Next, the companions and the other deplaceurs began a sweep of the globe. Many among the Afflicted never even saw the people delivering their cure. For the majority, all they were aware of was a mist spreading before their faces. Once they breathed in, they felt sick for a little while, and they awoke free and no longer bound to Arnet.

It took nearly three days, cleansing every place from Reykjavik to Copenhagen, Tokyo to Paris, and even in Aimée and Claude's old house which had become ade facto Moroccan prison. They also went into the locked cells of the dorms and the dungeons below the underground mansion.

By the end of the fourth day the world was recovered. The bad dream was truly over.
Patroclus, once cured, had been directing the activities. Things went surprisingly smoothly with his expert guidance. The supplies of Arnet's serum that had been bound for the European seats of power were found and destroyed and everyone was surprised to find that the stain of Arnet had left the world even more quickly than it had entered.

Cora, the famous courtesan, was also cured. She was also put under arrest, along with her ten mates, whom she had infected with her own strain. She was to be dealt with at a later time, and re-educated if possible. She could not be blamed for breaking rules she hadn't known, but there were also some concerns regarding her hypnotic abilities with men... and her shapeshifting powers. She was left to her own devices for the time-being though, locked in the largest dungeon beneath the underground mansion with her ten playmates to keep her company.

On the fourth day, they gathered in the opulent underground mansion once again. Abby reached out with her mind and swept the globe repeatedly. With her companions' energies joined with hers, the task had become easier with each try. She finished her final sweep, reaching out in search of minds that were entirely focused on Arnet. She found none.

"It is done," she said softly. "There is no one left with Arnet's variant, save for Arnet himself."

"We'll continue running sweeps," said Scaurus. "The necessary mortals have been gathered. Surprisingly, because of Arnet's strong hold on their minds, not that many carried clear memories of what happened to them, or of our kind. Of those who did, if they were amenable and trustworthy, they have been enlisted in our cause. Those who we deemed unreliable have been relocated to far off places. Even if they try to tell our story, none will believe them.

"Now for Arnet," said Patroclus. "We need to deal with him, and also set things right with our seven wonders here. I'll summon the Council at once."

"Patroclus," said Frederique. "Arnet is sequestered in a safe place and poses no threat. Right now, I want to mention an important fact. Our group is newly mated, all seven of us. I will concede that the fierce Afflicted mating hunger does not rage within us. Yet, the need is there and it grows stronger by the hour. It has been days now and we still have not consummated our bond."

"How rude of us," cried Patroclus. "You are quite right. Legal proceedings can wait for a bit longer."

"Might I suggest something?" said Scaurus.

"By all means, my friend," said Patroclus.

"What about Dougga?"

A smile brightened the ancient man's youthful face.

"An excellent choice," Patroclus said.

"What is Dougga?" asked Jacob.

"In the waning days of Rome, we undertook the construction of several underground strongholds," said Patroclus. "Petra was the most conspicuous, but we also commissioned complexes below Cairo, Granada, Ellora, and Dougga. We abandoned the majority, but Dougga has been maintained."

"Are you suggesting the Governor's Chamber?" asked Hypatia.

"Indeed I am," said Patroclus. "Give us half an hour, you won't be disappointed."

Bullet, Brolly, and several others were summoned. They were given quick instructions. They winked out and began preparations of the finest bridal chamber anyone could ever expect.

The companions waited, though it wasn't easy. They had been so busy curing the world of Arnet's curse; they had been too distracted to notice each other. Now they were at rest, they were keenly aware of each other's presence.

The chance to be alone could come none too soon.

* * * *

Almost exactly thirty minutes later, Patroclus joined the companions in the library of the underground mansion.

"The Governor's Chamber was a peace offering," he explained. "The Roman governor of Dougga knew of our work below his city and he welcomed it. Those were times when we still had friends in Rome. The governor wished for only one thing: a pleasure palace for himself. We accommodated his wishes and several generations of governors were always grateful. When the Empire left, the chamber was sealed, along with the vast underground complex we had built. We have maintained it, however, cleaning it every ten years in case the occasion should arise that we would need it. This seems like a good occasion."

Bullet stood beside him.

"We have spared no expense in preparing it," she said. "I am certain it will be to your liking."

"You have twenty-four hours," said Patroclus. "That should suffice. After that, we have much business to attend to."

Abby reached out and retrieved an image of their destination from Bullet's mind. A moment later, the seven companions stood alone in the middle of a stunning room. There were several beds and couches. The room was divided by colored silks which created the sensual illusion of individual but fully visible spaces, each space containing beds or couches, or chairs with a very clear purpose.

There was a lingering hint of dust and cleaning in the air, but both odors were overridden by hypnotic incense which filled the room. The bedding and curtains were clearly new and freshly laundered.

They all wandered about the great chamber with a mixture of excitement, awe, and shyness. There was no doubt about what would soon be happening, but it was a new situation for all of them. In fact, it was a situation unique in the history of the world. Seven 'newlyweds', mated on a biological level -- forming what was essentially a unique new race.

They looked around the quarters in wonderment. The Council had truly appointed the chamber with every luxury.

Frederique gave a cry of excitement when she spied what was at the far end of the chamber. A large, sunken bathing pool was already filled with steaming water.

After many days of battles, and pressure, and fear -- the bubbling water beckoned and sang to them in practically primordial tones. Come to me, it said. I will ease your fears and comfort your weary muscles.

The women went to one end of the pool, the men to the other.

Frederique was first to remove her clothing and the other women followed her lead. They took their first steps into the water and stood knee deep; four lovely, singular sirens.

There was Frederique, the legendary beauty, her wondrous breasts perfectly complimenting the curves of her hips below. Beside her stood Abby, at least a full head shorter but no less curvaceous -- and in a way, her lesser height accentuated her assets. Next to Abby stood Aimée, her form reminiscent of her mother's, though not yet as full. That fullness would surely come with age, but her nubile figure was no less lovely. Finally there was Glennis, her willowy length and fair features could only be described as perfect. Her breasts were not as large as the others and her waist was slender and straight. That didn't matter at all. Glennis was Glennis, and her beauty held its own unique perfection.

Because of their recent ritual purification treatment at the hands of the Elders, the three girls were devoid of hair anywhere below. Only Frederique sported a neatly cut V between her legs.

At the other end, the boys willingly shed their own clothes. The women were treated to their own delicious visual treat. Claude and Jacob's muscular bodies seemed to have become more defined and chiseled from their recent adventures. Their already hard cocks stood out beautifully, nude of hair. Martin was the shortest of the three, though not much shorter than Claude. His chest was surprisingly muscled for a clockmaker and his cock was -- appetizing -- was the first thought that came to Abby's mind. She shared that description mentally with just the women, and they all concurred. It was not as large as Claude's, nor as long as Jacob's. Yet, it had a perfect shape to it. The tip was bulbous and tempting; the shaft seemed almost machined, even the veins appeared symmetrical and designed to please.

The women waited on one end while the men entered the other. The pool had wide, gradual steps. Each group went from knee deep to waist deep, to chest deep. It was at this depth that they met in the middle of the ancient pool.

They bathed, alternating amongst each other. What would happen soon was a foregone conclusion, but there was a silent reluctance to break the seal of Eros. With soaps and oils found on the sides of the great pool, they washed each other, teasing at the more tempting parts, but avoiding full stimulation for as long as possible.

It was Frederique who tipped into full passion first. Claude moved to her and he carefully cleaned her legendary breasts. His strong hands caressed and massaged her in such a way that it enflamed every part of her body.

Their lips approached slowly and tentatively. This was to be their first kiss ever as true mates. No longer was she a sympathetic Afflicted older woman caring for a young stallion in his urgent need. They were equals.

Their lips met softly.

The seven experienced another surprise of their new bond.

Abby, Glennis and Aimée, who had been tenderly washing the other boys' backs, felt their own knees buckle. The sensation rushing through each girl's body was identical to what Frederique experienced upon feeling the tender pressure of her son's lips against hers.

The boys, too, felt the undeniable synchronization. Though they knew they were with someone else -- had Jacob or Martin closed his eyes, he could have sworn Frederique's breasts were pressing against his own chest.

Frederique pulled back from the kiss. Her head was buzzing and she felt as lightheaded as if she'd just had a large glass of strong liquor. The sensation went beyond her simply sharing the feeling of the kiss. Because the others had felt it, the cumulative feeling of pleasure had been magnified, at least by four.

"What just happened?" she asked softly. Her head was still fuzzy.

"Something wonderful," said Abby. "Something so, so, wonderful."

She was nearest to Jacob. She leapt into his arms (an easy feat in the deep water), and kissed him intensely. Given that she was the empath of the group, the magnifying effect was even greater than what they had felt with Frederique. Glennis actually fell into Martin because she was so dizzied by the feeling.

"Wooh," sighed Aimée. "This is going to take some getting used to."

The interchanges became more passionate. They learned that their new paradigm did take some level of selection. Like the sheer silk curtains dividing the room, if they didn't at least put up a mental filter in their minds, they found themselves uncertain of whom they were kissing. For that matter, they were sometimes uncertain of who they were. At one point in the steaming pool, Aimée opened her eyes to find herself wrapped in Martin's arms, her tongue buried in his mouth. The moment before, she had been certain she was Glennis, kissingClaude.

Eventually, Abby was in Jacob's arms and found herself inching down toward his long, shaved, beautiful cock.

"Wait," she whispered. "Not here. As much as I love the water, our first time should be on a bed."

Our suddenly had a new meaning. By 'our' she meant all of them. She had been with two of the men in their mate-group, many times, but this was still all brand new.

The group emerged from the pool in the same manner they had entered it: the ladies at one end, the men at the other.

The women helped to towel each other off. Frederique, with her many centuries' worth of experience with scents and oils, examined the various unguents and perfumes waiting on an opulent table. She instructed the girls carefully in preparing themselves, picking each scent and oil with care, matching each to the girl's skin and nature

The boys, meanwhile, had toweled off and had watched the sensuous display with extreme interest.

"Now girls," said Frederique. "We must be sure our men are properly prepared. I'm going to sing a song taught to me by a woman who lived among the last descendants of Babylon. This was the song which welcomed warriors back to their homes, and to their beds. I'll sing, and you prepare them with oils."

"Frederique, we can sing, too," said Abby.

"But it will take me too long to teach you, it is in an ancient tongue."

"You forget who we are now, dear sister," said Glennis. "You are 'you', but you are also part of 'we'. We will know the song, have no fear."

It was true, as soon as Frederique began singing, the notes and words were clear in the others' minds. So, too, was the ritual of oiling down their 'warriors'. Taking up vials of oil, they sang and prepared their men for the evening to come. They oiled their chests and arms, their legs and back -- and even their members -- but with only a hint of stimulation. Once they were done, the women led the men back to the center of the room.

The centerpiece of the room resembled a flower, of sorts. At the middle was a circular bed and against it were five rectangular beds, forming a shape like the head of flower. Abby was closest to Claude, and Frederique led the two to one of the 'petal' beds and bade them lie down. Next, she took Aimée, who was with Martin, and led them to the bed one away. Finally, she led Glennis and Jacob to the third bed. As for herself, she crawled into the center bed and knelt, prepared to watch the three couples together.

"But what about you?" asked Glennis.

"My dears," she said in a gentle tone. "What you must understand is I have already mated -- twice. Taking a bloodmate to your bed is an intense experience. For the first time, it makes the most sense that you take someone else who is new. I will have my turn, trust me."

Had they been in a more lucid state of mind, they might have attempted something of an argument. As it was, the blood was pounding their ears. The bath and the preparations, combined with the many days of waiting since becoming mated, made it nearly impossible to form a coherent thought. They were incapable of argument. All they wanted now was the person beside them.

Frederique was truly more than content to wait. She had seen over forty decades pass in her time on the earth. Though this was a new situation and her body yearned for completion, she had learned patience over all those years.

Glennis was the most eager. For all of her life, she had lived with the peaceful nature of the Elders pervading her system. More recently, she had felt stirrings begin. Now, however, the hungry insistence of the Affliction had entered her body. Jacob began kissing her and she gasped at his touch.

"Oh Jacob, don't wait," she moaned. "I need this so badly. Please. Now."

Jacob complied. Glennis rolled onto her back and he lowered himself down to her.

"I'll go slowly," he whispered.

She could only nod her agreement. Biting her lip in anticipation at what was to come.

He entered her easily then paused, but there didn't seem to be any need. Whatever she had in the way of a maidenhead was apparently negligible. His long cock kept gliding in with almost no barriers apparent. Deeper and deeper he plunged until the tall girl, surprisingly, took his entire length on his very first thrust.

She hissed out in ecstasy as his huge cock filled her entirely.

"Oh Jacob," she whispered, "I never knew. I never knew anything could feel like this."

Tears filled her eyes at the all-engulfing sensation. Her inner muscles began to spasm as they reacted to the newfound pleasure. She gripped at his back with pleasure. It wasn't an orgasm, but it was close. The joy she was feeling was so intense she could barely breathe.

She gasped with even further pleasure as Jacob pulled back out. The rippling sensation of his cock within her elicited another moan, but she reached down to grasp his waist and pull him toward her again, longing for the completeness his cock gave her.

"Again," she urged him. "Again. Again. Again."

Two beds over, Abby was laying side-by-side with Claude. They were kissing tenderly.

"Look at us, we're the old hands," said Abby.

"What do you mean?" asked Claude.

"Well, we've been together before," she said with a gentle kiss on his lips. "Jacob and Glennis, it's their first time together. Aimée and Martin, the same. For Glennis and Martin, it's their first time ever. I hope I don't bore you."

"You could never do that," he said.

Reaching down to feel his wonderful firmness below, she gave a loving squeeze. "Well, at least one part of you isn't bored."

"No part of me is bored," he said with a laugh.

Flipping her around with his muscular arms, he faced her away from him. Both of them still lying on their sides, he spread her legs apart from behind and pushed his way into her. This was made easier because the two of them instantly levitated a slight amount to allow him the perfect angle. Though parts of their skin still touched the silky sheets, gravity would pose no barrier to anything they wished to do.

Abby moaned with pleasure at the familiar 'hello' of their nervous systems. It was always intense, but this time it was even more so. For days, they had gone without, and now their systems were not just saying hello to another Afflicted, but to a mate. She arched her back, pushing her hips back against Claude to welcome his massive cock into her for the first time as a true, bonded, biological partner. Every nerve in his cock sang out and every tiny part of her moist and ready within cried out a welcome.

Claude's hands reached around to cup Abby's breasts and with their weightless advantage, he began pulling her into him. His cock bottomed out with over an inch remaining with each thrust. Sometimes he was able to push himself completely into the tiny redhead, but other times, like this, it took some time for her to work up to accepting his full broad length.

Aimée had been kissing Martin tenderly, but their kisses had been growing more urgent.

She wrapped a hand around his shaft. Linked as they were, she detected a hint of self-consciousness about his size. He certainly couldn't help but be aware of his companions' endowments.

"Dearest, don't be ridiculous," she said in his mind. "You are more than large enough and harder than steel. It's what you do with it that matters."

"How did you do that?" he asked in her mind. "How did you speak just to me? Oh, I'm doing it, too."

"Lovely," thought Aimée. "Now Abby isn't the only one who can speak to others this way. Let's see if you can gather my next meaning without me speaking, with my voice or otherwise."

She kissed a trail down his chest to the rigid member they had been discussing. Her lips wrapped around its tip and she began working it with the expert technique her mother had shown to her. Aimée had perfected that technique with her brother, then Jacob, and several partners in the dorms. She worked him further and further into her mouth and was soon pulling him all the way in. Savoring his taste and reveling in the rawness as his beautiful cock parted her throat, she looked up at him with satisfied eyes.

She suppressed a gag and pulled him back in. The look she gave him needed no words, spoken or unspoken. 'You see', her gaze said, 'more than big enough.'

He was inclined to blissfully agree with her.

Simply her mouth wasn't enough, however. Aimée needed more and only lingered for a couple of minutes before lusting to feel Martin in the place she needed it most. Kissing her way back up his chest, she lowered herself down and gave a jubilant smile. It was not only their first time, but she was his first lover ever. Like the others, their systems cried out for each other and they were both nearly paralyzed with the sensation of Martin's first full penetration.

He began to move. Without a doubt, he was clumsy at first. However, with his clockmaker's analytical mind and the fact that such things come naturally to us all, they were soon moving together in a perfect rhythm.
Had anyone been watching, they needn't have felt sorry for the lovely Frederique. She was, in fact, the woman experiencing the most pleasure. While the others were somewhat isolated, lost in their own couplings, she was still bound to them all. As had happened in the bathing pool, she was tied to them -- especially her sisters (for lack of a better word). She was kneeling in the center bed, and was lost entirely to sexual bliss. She could feel the sensations of all three of her female mates being fucked and it was a dizzying and intoxicating sensation.

The intensity increased. The boys, driven by the awakening hunger, began pummeling their partners with harder, longer, more violent thrusts. The girls matched their intensity plunge for plunge. The level of pleasure infusing them was already greater than any orgasm they could remember. Yet, it wasn't a climax. The three couples (and the one non-coupled participant) were all moaning and crying out with joy, but the release of climax eluded them.

Driven on by such bliss, they kept fucking. Their bodies were all glistening with sweat and the urgency of their union kept increasing. The room seemed to be almost filled with drumming, but it was actually the intense pounding of their blood in their own ears. A new sensation, other than pleasure, began intruding into their minds. As hard as they fucked, as long as they fucked, their bodies were still telling them it wasn't enough.

"Wait," cried Abby. "Wait!"

Her cry brought them to a reluctant stop.

"Something's wrong," she said, "or, if not wrong, needed. Yes, something else is needed. We must discover what it is, or I'm afraid we'll never have any sort of release."

Claude had pulled out of Abby. Martin and Aimée had also broken their union.

Glennis and Jacob paused, his long cock still buried in her.

As the other couples were contemplating what might be wrong, Glennis found herself struck by the oddest thought. Here she was, joined with her first lover ever, but the sight of Martin and Claude was more appetizing to her.

'Appetizing' she thought to herself. 'But why should I be hungry?'

"Oh!" Glennis suddenly cried, aloud. "We are mates! All of us are mates! I suspect that we must all lie with each other before our bodies will be satisfied. Our blood is joined and I would think that our bodies are expecting to 'meet' each other in this way -- all of us."

"I think that might be a good idea," said Frederique. "Bloodmating is only complete with the physical union. We are certainly all joined. I can attest to that."

They then rotated. Now it was Claude with Glennis, Jacob with Aimée, and Martin with Frederique. Abby sat out that next round. With this next session, they were that much more complete. The longing within them was diminished to a certain extent, but they still needed more.

"Wait... wait, I suspect something," said Claude.

"What?" asked Glennis.

"Just bear with me," said Claude. "Who has been with whom?"

"Umm... that's a big question, with seven people involved," said Abby.

"Let's just focus on the boys then," said Claude. "I have been with Glennis and Abby. Jacob?"

Jacob thought about it. "Aimée, and Glennis."

Martin answered as well. "Aimée and Frederique."

"Very well," said Claude. "That leaves Mother and Abby with for Jacob. Glennis and Abby for Martin, and Aimée and Mother for me."

"Very well, let's get started," said Aimée, crossing to Claude with a hungry look in her eyes."

"We... we should wait," explained Claude.

"Wait for what?" asked Aimée, pouting.

"Just, trust me," he said. "For now, Mother, you lay with Jacob and Abby, go to Martin."

"And me with you," insisted Aimée.

"No, not yet," he said. "Like I said, Sister, trust me."

She wasn't happy about it, but she complied.

Claude, Glennis, and Aimée sat near each other, but not touching as Abby and Martin took each other for the first time, and Frederique fell into the familiar arms of Jacob once more... but this time as a mate."

The three non-participants were hard pressed to keep their hands off of each other, but Claude was quite insistent that it be this way. The pleasure continued to grow, but also the frustration. The two sets of lovers reached a climax... of sorts, but it was more a plateau with something still waiting to be done.

"Now, can we?" said Aimée, practically panting.

"Yes, my beautiful sister. Now. Jacob, go to Abby. Martin, go to Glennis, and Aimée, come to me. Mother, you wait one more time."

"My, my, so authoritative," said Abby.

"Yes, I suppose I am. But, I know what needs to happen."

Though they had been fucking on the outer beds, they now gathered on the huge circular one in the middle. To make room, Frederique levitated slowly up into the air and hovered there easily.

"Go ahead, my mates," she purred. "I sense we are nearing completion."

The three couples knelt, facing each other. As though they were responding to each other's impulses, they leaned in to kiss each other all at the same time. A group sigh emerged as the spark between them was almost tangible.

"What's happening?" asked Aimée, her head buzzing.

"It makes sense," Claude said. "We are all mates, but we must return to the beginning. In order to seal the bond completely, we must go to the ones we started with. Glennis and Martin seem to be the most suited for each other for some reason and they shared that climax together when we were hiding. Abby and Jacob were trapped together in the mountain, and you and I first joined aboard the Siren. We need to go back to the beginning to complete our union."

They kissed again, and the sigh returned. Claude pushed Aimée down and her eyes widened in surprise. There was a new force in his manner and a new hunger in his kisses.

"Take me, Brother," she sighed. "Let us become true mates."

"I will," he said with great authority."

She moaned as his cock pushed into her, spreading her wide in the way that was so familiar, but such a surprise every time.

Abby, too, moaned with pleasure as her brother's long manhood slithered deeply into her and plundered depths she so loved to feel.

"There you are, my Jacob," she whispered. "At last, we are as one. Our dreams are coming true."

Glennis was beneath Martin and she practically growled on feeling his shaft split her pussy.

"Yes, Martin," she ordered. "I've been waiting for you."

The lovemaking began to grow in intensity. Martin's hips began hammering into Glennis with an insistent force.

"Do you like that," she growled. "Do you like fucking my tight cunt?"

"My, my. Such a mouth on such a lovely girl," he said.

"I was raised on the streets of New York. Though I never did these things, I heard them and saw them. Just you wait, lover," she said. "I will say things and do things that will surprise you, indeed."

Jacob was taking long and strong strokes into Abby's warm depths. She had been stretched out enough by Claude that she was ready to take his full length.

"That's the way," she moaned. "Take your sister. Make her your own. Do it. Do it. Do it!"

The last 'do it' was said between clenched teeth as she began to grind her hips insistently against Jacob's and the heat continued to grow between them.

Beside them, Claude had Aimée pinned to the mattress. Though they could fly, the particular moment called for more power... more constraint... more dominance. Aimée's arms were pinned beneath his wrists and his hips were thrusting his manhood deeper and deeper to her with each thrust. In his eyes was a hunger she had seen before.

Though it seemed like it was a lifetime ago, it wasn't even a month before that they had been floating in the clouds high above the Siren and they had almost surrendered to bloodlust. In her haze, she wondered why they hadn't just done it then.

Faster and faster, the three couples fucked... deeper and deeper three hungry cocks pummeled three hungry pussies. Louder and louder the moans grew until it was clear that the moment had arrived.

Three women's mouths opened and in a siren-like shriek the three girls surrendered to true and amazing bliss unlike any they had ever known. With the start of their climax, the three men, too, succumbed to the release their bodies had been craving since the moment the needles had plunged into their skin with the mixed cells of the Seven.

'Stallion' was an understatement, at least for Jacob and Martin. The cum began spraying into their partners and something about their cum pushed the pleasure even higher. As the girls felt their hungry cunts being bathed in cum, their cries actually stopped because they pleasure was so great they could only bury their faces in their lovers' shoulders and begin shaking with pure and unadulterated pleasure.

Aimée, too, was caught in the throes of this same climax... so much so that she was unaware that her own lover, her handsome brother, had only ejected one jet of delicious seed into her. After that first burst, he had stopped coming. Though it was pleasurable for him, he made it his goal to keep fucking her until she was absolutely and completely pleased. Her pleasured squeals and the eyes rolling back into her head were certainly signs that he had succeeded.

The other couples were now lying exhausted in each other's arms and there was a glow of completion about them. Aimée, too, felt it.

"Oh, my Claude," she murmured when she was finally able to speak at all. It is done. We finally belong to each other, we are finally mated, completely and entirely."

"Yes," said Claude in a gentle voice.

Her eyes fluttered open and she saw that there was still something wanting in his expressing... still that lack of completion.

"But... why aren't you done, yet?" she whispered.

"Remember what I said," he said. "We needed to go back to the beginning. Martin with Glennis, Jacob with Abby, and us together."

"Yes, but..."

"But Aimée, it was Mother. She was the one who first pleased me, the one who first gave me blessed release after I awakened."

"Oh, I see," said Aimée. "I do. I understand. So, now you must take her and we will all be complete."

"Indeed," said Claude. He stood up on the mattress and gestured to the stunning woman who had been floating above them like an angel; watching them with love and lust in her eyes. "Come here, Frederique."

He gestured with an insistent finger. It was worth noting that he used her first name. Though she would always be the woman who gave birth to him, at that moment their relationship subtly altered. She was now his lover, his mate.

"Yes, my love," said Frederique, softly.

She descended to stand before him. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were downcast. She was responding to the newfound commanding tone in his voice. Her reaction actually surprised her a bit. All of his life she had been the figure in authority but now her body was thrilling at the idea of being ordered by him.

The other five stood and formed a circle around them, Aimée, Jacob, Abby, Martin, and Abby, all in a circle, holding hands.

He reached over and lifted her chin with his fingers so that she had to look into his eyes.

"Kiss me," he said in a low, urgent tone.

"Yes, my love," she whispered.

Their lips met and the other five felt the kiss. All of their knees practically buckled at the feeling of the last of their mates reacting to each other. It was clear that after Claude took Frederique, their group would be complete and the prophecy of the Elders would be entirely fulfilled.

Her breasts pressed into his muscular chest as they pulled each other closer. His hand reached around to the back of her neck and he pulled her even more tightly into the kiss.

"Take me," she murmured. "However you wish, hard, soft, deep, long. I don't care how, but please, do it soon. I feel I will burst if you don't."

"I know how you feel," said Claude with a chuckle. Slowly, in an almost acrobatic dance, they lifted from the ground and into a slowly rotating embrace. The other five stayed below, their hands still joined. They were now mated and were content to watch as the last piece of their puzzle was completed.

Claude's hands roved over Frederique's body, and she did the same. Her fingers explored his muscular chest and strong arms, while his hands caressed her amazing ass, back, and legendary breasts. Her hands soon found his way to his manhood, still slick with his cum and the juices from her daughter.

"Please," was the only word she needed to say, and Claude knew what she needed.

With the grace borne of gifted fliers, and two people now connected at the cellular and emotional level, she descended on his swollen manhood and gasped at the feeling as her nerves sang out at having this, her final and strongest mate, inside of her.

The group felt it, too. The five people below them slowly dropped to their knees. They knew instinctively that they wouldn't be able to stand for much longer.

"Yes, Claude," Frederique moaned. "Yes, I needed this, so."

They began moving slowly together. There seemed no need for speed at the moment. This was the final and critical component to the bond of the Seven being finally completed.

"I have a confession to make," she whispered in his ear.

"What's that?" whispered Claude in return.

"That very first time aboard the siren, when I felt your lovely manhood in my hand... I wished for this."

"You did?" asked Claude.

"Oh, yes," replied his mother. "As you know, with the Affliction comes patience. In the moment I felt your amazing stiffness, and when I saw your jets of delicious cum pour out of it. I wished for nothing more than to meet you in a few decades and take you to my bed as a mate."

"Well," said Claude with a groan as he thrust a bit deeper. "I would be lying if I said that wasn't at least part of my fantasy."

"Let's make it complete then," murmured Frederique. "Let us complete those fantasies and make them real, much sooner than either of us could have hoped."

She hissed with pleasure as he lifted up and she slid further down his shaft.

"That's it, my lover," she moaned. "My son, my lover, my mate... take me now."

Slowly, slowly, slowly, the pace increased. From slow, intense glides of their bodies, Claude and Frederique began to really and truly fuck each other in the air above the bed where their other lovers waited.

As could only be done in the air, the thrusts were long and complete, each of their bodies reacting to the other. At one point, the only parts of their bodies touching were their finger tips and below. Claude's rock-hard manhood slid in and out, glistening from his mother's hungry interior and was soon dripping from her juices as they continued on.

Frederique had always been mercurial in her lovemaking. At times she was forceful and assertive, her voice low and sultry. Not this time, however. As her son's cock slid deeper and faster inside of her, it seemed to be raising the pitch of her voice until the cries escaping her mouth were nothing but girlish... as though she were a young lover being taken for the first time.

"That's the way Claude," she panted. "Fuck me... fuck your lover... your mother. Do it! I neeeed this so much. I need you... please, please, please cum for me. Fill Mother with that delicious spunk."

The taboo nature of the words made it all the hotter, and those below them were breathing deeply with lust and were scarcely able to keep their hands off of each other.

"Yes!" she finally hissed and her body began to twitch in spasms of pleasure and she fell back, only her cunt speared on his cock as she stayed suspended in the air as she succumbed to the ultimate pleasure.

As for Claude... he still wasn't finished. Like the tumblers in a lock falling into place, six out of the seven were there. The group felt more alive, more complete, and more connected than ever, but there was still that one thing missing.

Frederique started moving on him once more, sliding slowly up and down his long, glistening shaft.

"Cum for me, please," said Frederique. "Fill me up, Claude. Fill me."

"I'm trying," moaned Claude. "But something... something won't let me."

His body was glistening with sweat and it was clear there was a bit of frustration on his face.

"Oh, silly," said Abby, "you thought you knew everything. You need one more thing.

She moved to Aimée and whispered in her ear.

"Go to him," she said. "You must help him here. He was right about returning to the beginning, but he wasn't quite right. Frederique was his first, but not entirely. She pleased him first with her hand, but it was you who first took him inside. He must have the both of you, together, to complete the circle. Go to him."

Abby gestured upward and before Aimée even realize what was doing, she ascended from the ground to their sides. Their bond was now so near completion that the skill of each of the others was available.

Aimée flew behind her brother and whispered in his ear.

"What's wrong, Brother," she teased. "Can't finish?"

"It isn't for lack of trying," he complained.

"I know, baby," she said, giggling. "But we'll get you there."

Aimée looked down at the lovely sight of his cock buried inside of their mother and she instantly knew what needed to be done.

"Mother, dear, could you please back off as far as you can without letting him fall out of you?"

"Oui," said their mother, and she did. Now, his long wet shaft separated them and only his round head was there in her pussy, anchoring them together.

Aimée's flew lower, her hand wrapped around her brother's waist and her eyes coming even with this lovely sight.

Her other slender hand reached out and grasped Claude's massive shaft.

"Now then brother, poor mother is suffering so. She needs your cum to fill her up. You wouldn't deny her that, would you?"

"Never," complained Claude. "It's just..."

"Shh!" insisted Aimée. "You just let your little sister take care of things."

Her hand began stroking him slowly. The skin of his cock rippled in long, sensuous strokes beneath her expert hand.

"Oh my god," groaned Claude. He was overwhelmed by the vision of his sister stroking him, her lovely face looking up at him while his cock was still within his mother, who was watching him with adoring eyes.

"Good girl, my daughter," she said. Now her voice was lusty, deep, and naughty. "You know what to do. Pump your brother's cock, my girl. Fill up mother with his seed."

"Oh, I will," Aimée growled in return. "It is time. We need to be complete, all of this, and that is the final thing that is needed. Once your cum fills her, our union will be done."

She pumped faster now. Her hand was traveling the full length of his shaft. At one end, she was bumping against her mother's swollen clit, at the other, her brother's balls were slapping against his body.

"Come on Claude, you need this," she moaned. "You need to cum inside of her. It will tell her body that you are hers; it will let her truly surrender to you. Let me pump it out of you. Let little sister pump that jizz into Mother's tight cunt."

Harder and faster, her hand moved. Claude's eyes were frozen to the vision and he was groaning. He wanted it so much, but still his body resisted. It seemed that if they wanted this bliss, they would have to truly work for it.

"So... good," he moaned. "Feels... so...good."

Echoing the motions of earlier, Frederique reached over and lifted his chin to lift his face away from watching Aimée's hand pumping his cock, to her own eyes."

Frederique did not speak, she only nodded. That was all that was needed. It was time. His body stiffened.

"Yes! Now, Claude!" Aimée cried.

She stopped her rapid stroking and waited for the perfect moment. Then, her hand resting at the base of the shaft, she gave a slow, deliberate stroke. She gasped as she physically felt his urethra expand as the cum surged out of him.
"Oh, yes!" cried Aimée and Frederique at the same time.

Claude was beyond words. At last, his body released... and release it did. One, two, three, four, five great surges of seed filled his mother as his mouth hung open in a voiceless cry. Aimée released his shaft then and Frederique descended upon it, taking him fully into her as he poured his seed into her hungry, hot, pussy.

He was suspended there, gasping in the air from the intensity. They surely would have fallen had it not been for his mother and sister supporting him in the air. When he recovered, slightly, Frederique spoke to Aimée.

"Now you, darling," she said.

Aimée knew exactly what she meant. Though Claude had cum once inside of her, it had not been enough.

Frederique slid off of Claude and Aimée switched places with her and it was now Aimée who felt Claude's cock inside. Again, not too far, so that several inches of his massive shaft were visible between the two.

"That was rather cleverly done, my daughter," said Frederique. "Like this, yes?"

She reached down and grasped Claude's drenched cock in her hand. She stroked him a few times and then she felt Claude's shaft expand as he poured out even more.

"Oh god," he groaned.

"Good boy," she purred. "Fill up your sister's pussy, too."

At that first spurt, the final 'bell' went off in their heads.

"Done!" cried a voice beyond them. They were not certain if it was the voice of their unknown benefactor, or the voice of the prophecy itself signaling that the union of the Seven was complete. Whatever it was, at the moment the first drops of Claude's cum, mixed with his mother's juices, shot into Aimée, the seven people in the room knew they were now joined inextricably together for life.

They knew something else. They were absolutely, and undoubtedly one unit. They were all mated together in a way that none had ever been before. Yet, at the same time, they were partnered off as well. Yes, Claude loved Glennis and Abby deeply, but it was to Aimée and Frederique that he was most deeply joined. Jacob and Abby knew they had completed the journey they had begun long ago trapped deep in a mountain. Lastly, Glennis and Martin knew that while they loved the other five intensely, it was to each other that they were bound in ways that only the two of them would be able to understand.

Claude, Aimée and Frederique descended to the bed once again and there was much kissing and hugging among all of them. However, a great exhaustion fell on them now that their union was complete. They all collapsed in a heap upon the great bed, not caring for the wet spots left from so much lovemaking. It was worth noting that when they awoke, each pairing was sleeping together, and Claude was cuddled on each side by his mother and sister respectively. As they drifted off, his manhood stiffened once more and Claude fell asleep with Frederique's hand gripped possessively around his shaft, while Aimée cupped his balls lovingly.






CHAPTER 17



Claude awoke first. He felt amazingly rested and he was sure that they must have slept for a half a day or more. He was soon to discover that he was mistaken about the time.

His naked mother and sister were still snuggled in tightly on either side of him. Upon feeling him stir, Frederique's hand tightened possessively around his shaft, but she did not wake yet.

Claude felt that someone else was awake and he lifted his head slightly to see that it was Martin, who had Glennis wrapped around him like a gorgeous blonde blanket.

"We must have slept forever," he thought.

"No, we've barely been asleep an hour."

Claude inquired back. "How do you know?"

Martin responded. "I always know what time it is. I'm not sure what time it is here, but when we went to sleep it was 3:49 pm in Paris, and it is coming up on five pm now."

"That's some trick you have, Martin... Hey! We're talking in our heads! I guess we can do that now."

"Yes, but you're not being very quiet." The voice that said the last statement belonged to Abby. She had awoken and she was peeking up from where she was nestled with Jacob. She was looking cuter than ever, but there was a curious glow about her as well.

"Sorry," said Claude and Martin together.

"Don't worry, darlings," she chirped in their heads. "We'll figure it out as we go."

The three of them were able to extricate themselves from their lovers and they padded over to the bath. The two boys each exchanged a long, sensuous good-morning kiss with Abby before they stepped quietly into the water.

Abby took each of their hands and led them into the water. They reached waist deep and then she released their hands and moved her hands to their hard cocks, leading them the rest of the way until the three of them were about chest deep in the great tub.

The water was delicious, the scents were magical.

The world was so new to them all. Their senses seemed to have been quadrupled in terms of sensitivity. Just as colors were brighter for a mortal who was turned Afflicted, they had undergone an even further transformation. Now, sight, sense, smell... all of it was heightened. Add onto that the fact that they were now sharing portions of each other's gifts and the world was indeed very, very different.

"How did you sleep?" whispered Claude to Abby.

"Wonderfully," said Abby. "But I'm not happy with you."

"No? Why not?"

"Well, with that complicated ritual of us mating, I still feel incomplete, dear Claude. Though you might be Aimée's prime mate, and Frederique's, for that matter; I still hold a claim over you. You too, Martin."

"I agree," said Claude. "It is undeniable. We can all feel the bond between us. I do love you, but what is it that's bothering you?

"Well, my muscular mate, the union was complete when each of us felt the seed of our first mate."

She had put her arms around his neck and lifted herself up, wrapping her legs around his waist.

"And?" asked Claude.

"And, lover," she whispered in his ear. "You never came inside of me last night.We are not yet fully mated, and I desperately need you to complete the rest of our bond."

She kissed him deeply, but then turned to Martin.

"You, too, clockmaker," she said, reaching out a hand to pull him to her. "You and I have unfinished business as well. You wait right there."

She groaned as she lowered herself, impaling her cunt on Claude's broad cock. She had a surprised look on her face as she lowered down.

"What's wrong?" murmured Claude.

"Nothing... it's just that, you fit."

"Oh, and that's different how?"

"You never did before, Claude. It always took me a while to adjust to your size."

"Oh, well... perhaps it's the water."

"Yes, perhaps."

She began fucking Claude slowly, their motions matching the slow, sensuous nature of water.

"Claude dear, don't hold back," she said after several minutes. "We have a big day... I just... I need this so badly."

"Yes... Yes... Abby," growled Claude.

He sighed as his body stiffened and his seed poured into the shapely redhead.

"Oh my... oh my!" hissed Abby. They were striving to be quiet, but it wasn't easy. As soon as Claude's seed poured into her, she pitched into her own climax and it was unlike any she had ever known. Her eyes flew open upon feeling his heat coat her silken walls.

"So good," she whispered. "It has never felt so gooooood."

A hunger awoke in her eyes and she rested there for a short time before sliding off and hopping straight into Martin's arms.

"Now then, Clockmaker, you and I need to complete our bond as well."

She slid down upon him and had another surprised look.

"What is it, now?" asked Martin.

"Oh... nothing," she said with a grin. "Nothing at all."

"No, it's something," said Martin. "Tell me."

"No."

"I'll read your mind then," he insisted.

"Oh Martin, you'll never be able to do that if I don't want you to, no matter how many gifts we gain. Now, just fuck me, darling."

She rode him quicker this time and the waves splashed in the pool. In short order, Martin was spending his seed within her and she was gasping with pleasure.

"So ungodly good," she moaned. "You've never... I've never... you boys don't know what this is feeling like."

She couldn't describe it to them, but each spurt of their seed within her was like a shot of energy.

"What is it like?" asked Claude. "What do you mean?"

"I... I can't describe it other than this. When you cum inside of me, the closest thing I can compare it to is when we would get our daily dose of blood. That satisfaction, that fulfillment, that comfort is like that, but with energy as well. I feel more awake with each jet of your lovely seed."

"Do you need more?" asked Martin. She was still suspended on his cock, which had lost none of its firmness. "I mean, how awake do you wish to be?"

"Very awake, my Martin. "Yes, let's go again."

She rode him for a few strokes, but then paused.

"Wait," she said. "I want both. Come here Claude."

She pulled Claude to her and guided him to a place he did not suspect she would.

"In there, are you sure?"

"Oh yes, Claude," she said in an almost animal-like growl. "Yes, please."

Claude eased slowly into her, his cock pushing insistently against her brown bud as he began to take Abby in the ass for the first time. It was made all the more wild by the fact that Martin was filling her other chamber.

With Claude's strong chest against her back, and Martin taking her from the front, Abby was soon sandwiched between her two lovers and being plundered in ways that she'd only fantasized about before. Faster, deeper... and louder, their lovemaking grew until Abby's voice was coming out in shrieks as the two cocks filled her in overwhelming ways. She came at least three times before the boys felt the force building in their cocks. First Martin, then Claude exploded inside of her and Abby got that curious high that was so new to her.

"Oh, my lovers," she said. "You are so good. We have such adventures ahead of us."

She kissed Martin deeply and then turned over her shoulder to kiss Claude.

They were surprised then to hear soft applause nearby. They turned to see their four companions seated at the edge of the bathing pool.

"Now I'm not the only one in trouble for being noisy and waking up our mates," said Claude, teasingly.

"Oops, sorry," said Abby, blushing.

"Don't be sorry," said Glennis, licking her lips. "That was quite a sight to wake up to, and something I want to try very soon, myself."

The next couple of hours were spent focusing on 'completion' as Abby had put it. Each lover paired off with someone who they hadn't experienced a full ejaculation with post-mating; it did indeed seem to finalize all that had happened between them. There was the undeniable bond between the seven of them, with the slightly stronger bonds that seemed to run along family lines. Martin and Glennis, of course, weren't family, but being originally outsiders, they seemed to be destined to be each others' 'primes'

After the next round of lovemaking, the women gathered in a lounge area to get dressed while the three young men went off to examine the armory near the entrance. Not that the women weren't interested in the weapons, but boys will be boys.

"Can I say something?" said Aimée, quietly. "When we were making love just now, did you notice that the boys were..."

"Different?" asked Glennis. "Yes. All three of them."

"I did too!" exclaimed Frederique. "Claude just... well, he fit better. It was still tight and he was just as huge, but there was something about it. And Martin, he was..."

"Bigger," said Abby. "He was no slouch before, but the way he filled me, it was just heavenly. Yes, I noticed. And what about it when they came inside of you?"

They were all in agreement that there was something decidedly different about their lovemaking. They had also all felt the lovely cum-buzz as soon as their mate's seed touched them.

"I noticed it in my mouth, too," said Glennis. "I sucked Jacob off after he came in me the first time, and when I swallowed his spunk it was like the one time I had a shot of whiskey, but a hundred times better. Mmm, just thinking about it makes me want to go down on him again."

"Oh, our angelic little Glennis," said Frederique with a chuckle. "How quickly you are taking to dirty talk."

Glennis shrugged her shoulders, giving an innocent smile belying the raunchy potty-mouth she was becoming when it came to sexual matters.

"Well," said Frederique, "the others will be arriving shortly and there are many preparations to make. We'd best put on a few clothes so we don't drive any men who arrive insane." She looked at her three female partners and shook her head in wonder. "My goodness, but I do have some attractive mates."

They retrieved their clothing and Glennis was the first to make a realization. She, Abby, and Aimée were still possessed of the clothing the Elders had made for them. However, when she went to put on her dress Glennis gave a grunt of annoyance.

"Come on, then," she said. "Get on. Hmm, the laces must need loosened."

She started loosening the laces of her garment while Abby and Aimée started putting on their own clothes. They too, were having a bit of problem, especially in the chest area.

"This doesn't make any sense," said Abby. "A seamstress who has been practicing her art for twenty-thousand years made this. Why shouldn't it fit?"

"I know what you mean," said Aimée. "Here, help me with my bodice."

Frederique watched on with curiosity

"It couldn't be," she mused. She cupped her own breasts in her hands and her head cocked to the side with curiosity. She considered putting on her clothes, but instead she pulled a silk robe out of a drawer. When the deplaceurs and company had gotten the governor's suite ready, they had spared no expense.

The boys arrived back with tales of battle axes and crossbows and swords from every era. They were also distracted by the view of the girls, whose bosoms were very, very noticeable in the clothing they'd finally managed to squeeze into.

"I like what you're wearing," said Jacob. "Or rather, I like how you're filling it out. That's the same thing you were wearing yesterday, right?"

"Oh shut up, Jacob," said Abby.

"Touchy! I was speaking the truth. I do like it."

"I don't. They hurt."

She squeezed her breasts with annoyance.

"Speaking of uncomfortable, are any of you thirsty?" asked Claude.

"No, but there's some water right over there," said Aimée.

"No, not that kind of thirsty. Thirsty. All three of us are just craving something. We tried the blood stores they put here, but blood just doesn't smell right to us anymore."

"No, we're not thirsty at all," said Frederique. "In fact, as soon as we made love today, we were better. Hmm, Abby, could you call Galen for me?"

"Of course," said Abby. "But, you could too, I would imagine."

"I could? Oh, I suppose so. Let me try."

She reached out with her mind. She did not have the global reach of Abby, who could sense anyone anywhere now. However, Frederique was able to reach out with her mind and sense the minds of those close to her. She found Palo, who was running security sweeps with Seiko, Hypatia, who was reviewing some sort of plans with Patroclus, Franz, busy at work on some gadget as always. And then, Galen..."

"Galen, I need to talk to you," she said in his mind.

"Who is this and hasn't anyone ever told you it's rude to enter without knocking,"said Galen.

"You know very well who it is, Galen," she said. "And we need to talk to you, now."

"Alright, alright little girl, just send your daughter to me and I'll come right away."

"Who are you calling little girl, Galen of Pergamon? I'm almost six-hundred and I've lain with you."

"Well call me a dirty old man, because I've still got over a thousand years on you. Go on then, send Aimée my way and I'll be right there."

Moments later, Aimée appeared with Galen at her side.

"Oh my," said the physician. "Look at these busty beauties."

"That's part of what I called you here for," said Frederique. "Something is different and we need you to tell us what it is."

"Well, go on."

They told him about completing their mating, then went on to describe their clothes not fitting, and the surge of energy... the buzz they received with the boys' seed. He listened patiently.

"Plus, they are different," said Abby, indicating the boys. "You know, down there?"

"We are?" said Claude. "You could have mentioned it to us?"

"Hmm," said Galen, contemplating the situation. He put a hand on Claude's chest to feel his system.

"Different down there, clothes not fitting... and you boy, you've got bloodthirst going on. Go and have your daily dose."

"That's part of the problem," said Claude. "I don't want any blood, yet my body continues yearning for something, even after I've had some water."

"I see," he said. "But you women have no thirst?"

"No," said Frederique. "It stopped once we made love."

Galen's analytical mind was turning. He evaluated all of the variables and kept thinking. He went to Frederique and opened her robe with no worries for modesty. He placed his hand on her abdomen and evaluated her system, then he took her breasts in his hands. He whispered in her ear so no one else could hear.

"Those are a bit heavy and full, don't you think?"

Frederique nodded quietly.

Galen went on with his musings. "So, Martin, please, would you please take lovely Abby here. I think having her on top would be best."

"What? I..."

"Come on then, no time for being bashful, not among our kind."

"I'm ready," said Abby. She already had her dress off and tossed it on a fainting couch. "It was bothering me, anyway. Come on then, Martin."

She crossed to him and unbuckled his trousers and had him naked in short order. Though he seemed embarrassed, certain parts of him certainly weren't all that shy.

"Mmm... very nice," said Abby, fondling his cock. "Let's get this back where it belongs.

She pushed him down onto the couch next to her dress and mounted him with ease.

"Very good," said Galen. "Now, if you would, please make yourself invisible, my girl."

"Oh, if you insist," she said.

She was sighing from the feel of Martin inside of her but she scrunched her face in concentration to make herself invisible.

There in seemingly mid-air, was Martin's cock, held up at an improbable angle, moving back and forth, and compressing in fluid-like patterns.

"Hold still, my girl," insisted Galen.

"You're no fun," said Abby's disembodied voice as she stopped moving.

"I would place him at 16 point 5 centimeters, give or take," said Galen. "So, right around six and a half inches and just shy of 13 centimeters in circumference. Now, if you will please, make yourself translucent, Abby."

"I'm... I'm not sure I can. Using Jacob's gift is still something I'm learning."

"Help your sister out, Jacob,' said Galen.

Jacob nodded and put his hand on Abby's shoulder. She slowly came into view, looking something like a water-creation.

"Just her pelvic region is all I need, from her labia to her abdomen."

"No problem," said Jacob.

Abby's body reappeared except for her midriff, which looked sort of gelatinous and transparent. Martin's cock was still there, but so were her diaphanous internal parts. Everyone watched on in fascination.

"There, you see. A relatively normal vaginal canal, she still has two centimeters before he hits her cervix, even fully inserted."

"Point being?" asked Claude.
"Now, Frederique. If you would please replace our randy redhead."

"With pleasure," said Frederique.

The two women shifted places. Frederique mounted him, rode him for a few strokes, and then turned herself invisible.

"Oh... so good," she moaned from empty air.

"And would you look. Our young clockmaker's pendulum is now 19, no, it keeps going, 20 centimeters or approaching 8 inches, and 16 centimeters in circumference."

Frederique followed the same process and Jacob turned her translucent. Galen peered down with a critical eye.

"Look at that, just a half a centimeter to go to her cervix."

"What? I grew?" asked Martin.

"All will be revealed in time, young lad. Now, Abby, please mount your brother, if you will."

"Oh Galen, you are so demanding."

Jacob was already undressed and quite erect from watching the goings on.

"I would estimate Jacob to be nearly 23 centimeters, so please do take him in, you ginger minx."

Abby mounted Jacob and at Galen's command, she was again 'clear' in her middle section.

"And look at that," said Galen. "All of him fits, but her cervix is still a bit higher. So, to explain; I have looked inside of your systems, and I have seen remarkable things. Your bodies are smart. Your Afflicted Cells, and Elder Cells, AND Human cells have merged... truly merged. Something about this union makes your bodies infinitely adaptive. The reason why your lovemaking has been so pleasurable is because your sexual organs are adapting dynamically to each other. If a larger man enters one of you women, your interior will expand... I would wager to say that even your internal organs might shift. If a man enters a woman who is naturally smaller, then your penis will adjust."

Claude seemed a bit concerned.

"But, Galen, I don't exactly want to get smaller."

"Oh good god, young Adonis, never fear. Even if you adjust, you won't stay that way. Did you not just see what Martin did?"

Martin was still lying with Frederique astride him. His cock was still visible through Frederique's translucent mid-section. "Wait, that is the case, then..."

He concentrated on his own body and within Frederique's translucent middle, his cock surged upward and wider.

"Oh, my, Martin," moaned Frederique. "So... so very big. Ooh!"

Martin had been watching down and had seen the reason for her exclamation. His cock had surged upward and pushed against her hymen, compressing her womb beyond.

"But, she didn't keep expanding," said Martin.

"Because, young gadget boy," said Galen in a sly tone. "Sometimes girls likebeing filled all the way."

"They do indeed,' purred Frederique.

She returned to 'regular' opaqueness and stood up, letting Martin slide out of her. His now huge member flopped out of her onto his belly. He looked down at it and focused on making it grow and shrink at will.

"Don't play with it dear, there will be time for that later," giggled Aimée.

Galen was contemplating the situation and mused out loud. "I would wager that these young men could get quite large. Think of it this way... you know how a man's member can go quite large after a long wait? With an Afflicted male, think of how stiff he gets after just a day of abstinence. He is, in fact, measurably larger at that point. Not significantly, but still, it is an observable difference. The point being, that is what is referred to as hyper-tumescence. I suspect your young men will be able to achieve that state at any point. They'll be able to grow quite large, and you will most probably be able to accommodate them, regardless."

"But what about our thirst?" said Jacob. "Why do we feel this way? Like we need blood, or something? And why don't the girls?"

"Ah, there's the other question, isn't it? You see, you seven do retain traces of the Affliction in your bodies. The two central traits of our symbiote are lust and thirst. Lust doesn't seem to be a problem, but thirst. Well now, when the Affliction tastes blood, it is sensing the living cells of its prey in the fluid and it is satisfied that it has 'hunted'. However, you are now civilized, for lack of a better word. The Elders are a highly sophisticated race. Since you now carry their strain, your bodies reject the idea of blood, quite possibly because the Elders have been vegetarians since before there were written languages. However, you still have that thirst for living cells."

"For the women, they have slaked their thirst many times today. Where are there living cells if not in the millions of little swimmers in a man's seed? Either on your tongues or in your nethers, you girls have satisfied your thirst today."

"So, does that mean we need to pleasure them with our mouths?" asked Claude. "I have no objection, but is that what it will take to satisfy the three of us?"

"I'm sure the ladies wouldn't mind, but no," explained Galen. "Though a woman's secret garden is certainly delightful, it does not carry the sort of vibrant life that your bodies are now craving."

"But, what then?" asked Claude. "How are we going to quench this thirst? I love my new brothers and they are certainly my mates, but I love women. I have no desire to satisfy my needs through them."

"No indeed, but there is another solution. Frederique, if you will?"

Frederique had a sly grin on her face.

"Come here, my boy," she said in a sultry voice.

Claude went to her and she kissed him deeply before pulling his face down to her right breast. He kissed and sucked hungrily, and with a wry grin she reached down and gave her breast a squeeze, at which point Claude came up spluttering, his mouth full of white fluid and his cheek spattered with the same.

"What in the..." he stammered.

"What, don't you remember the flavor, my son?" she teased.

He chuckled. "Of course not. I was just a baby. I never knew it was so sweet." Claude stopped then with a different sort of surprised look on his face. "However, I feel so much better, already. My thirst is not nearly so bad; my body doesn't crave something nearly as much."

The other girls were looking down at their breasts with bemused expressions.

"Galen!" said Aimée with some concern on her face. "Please tell me we are not with child already! We've just gotten our mates; I wanted a little while before children."

Galen smiled a patient smile. "No, Aimée, I can assure you that you are not expecting."

"Then how? Why?"

"Life, my friends," explained Galen. "You are full, absolutely full of life. And, as I say, your bodies and your very cells are terribly smart. The Elder part of you rejected the 'barbaric' idea of drinking blood, but your womanly bodies sensed that the males would need sustenance. So, they started generating the perfect thing to take care of your mates. I believe as an added bonus, you most likely will not experience your monthly cycles any more. However, you'll still need to take the precaution if you don't wish to have a child. I would imagine you would need to take extra care, as full of life as your bodies are now. I say that with one caveat, I do not believe you girls will be able to get pregnant by a human male, nor an Afflicted male for that matter. Your egg cells would reject the sperm cells as anyone other than these three here as too foreign."

"Well, I suppose we shouldn't mind," said Aimée. "I mean, look how I'm filling out my dress. I guess I shouldn't complain."

"Yes, and we've got a free pass to sleep with as many men as we want," said Glennis lustily.

"Really, Glennis?" said Claude.

"No, dearest, not really," said Glennis. "I wouldn't mind dallying now and again, but you three are so appetizing, I can't see myself wasting too much time with others."

The boys, especially Martin and Jacob, were eyeing the girls' cleavage quite hungrily. Frederique sensed their need and took Galen by the arm, leading him to Aimée. "Well, we have some thirsty boys Galen. You may go while we take care of things."

Aimée whisked Galen back to New York and reappeared again in a moment.

"Want to see a nice trick?" said Aimée.

Without waiting for an answer, her clothes were suddenly hanging in the air still retaining her shape and Aimée was standing next to Claude, fully nude. Her breasts were rounder, fuller, than they had been the day before -- for good reason. The clothes, freed from her form, fell in a rumpled heap to the floor.

"Are you still thirsty, my brother?"

Claude could only nod as she took him by the hand and led him to a free couch.

The other girls each took their 'prime' lover by the hand. Abby was mounted upon Jacob in no time and Glennis went to Martin where he sat and slid down on him.

The boys took drinks, and like the girls with cum, each young man experienced an intoxicating buzz as soon as the milk hit their tongues. As for the girls, they felt that lovely release of pressure (generally reserved for nursing mothers) as their lovers drank hungrily of the substance that was to replace blood in their lives.

"Don't neglect the right one, Jacob," purred Abby as she slid up and down her brother's cock. Jacob willingly switched sides and she purred as he drank her sweet offering.

"How does it feel?" he asked after a long draught. "I mean, for you."

"Well, physically it tickles a bit, but it is lovely, too" she said. "But emotionally, it is very fulfilling to know I have something to give to you. All of this time, I've been drinking from that beautiful cock of yours, I like having something to offer in return."

On the next couch over, Martin was buried in Glennis. He had drunk his fill from Glennis and they were staring deeply into each other's eyes.

"Bigger," said Glennis.

She moaned as he swelled his cock within her.

"Smaller," she giggled.

She groaned at the wonderful feeling of her pussy contracting to fill the void his cock had just left.

"Ooh, this will be fun indeed, my Martin," she said. "Bigger again."

Claude, having drunk from Aimée, now had her legs up over his shoulders as he pounded her.

"Fuck me, Claude. Fuck me harder!" she growled.

The excitement of him drinking from her for the first time, mixed with the burst of energy he received from her milk had sent them into a frenzy.

"Hey, now," said Frederique. "I'm still in need of a little release, too."

"Of course, mother," said Claude. "Come here."

As he continued pounding his sister, Frederique stood beside him and offered him her breasts... but it was a bit awkward.

"Oh, here," she said, and climbed up to straddle Aimée on the couch. Now, up on her knees, she was able to give him very good access to her breasts which now were perfect, full orbs that stood out even more improbably because of their added 'filler'.

"Oh, gods, mother," groaned Claude as he kept gliding into his sister while he drank her sweet and revivifying nectar from her perfect and legendary breasts.

"This feels so good," she moaned. "You know what would feel better... since you're down there, daughter?"

"I - was -- just - thinking the same thing," said Aimée, her speech coming out in bursts between Claude's thrusts.

She raised her head to find the perfect angle to her mother's pussy and the three of them made a stunning triangle, Claude gliding into Aimée, Aimée pleasuring her mother, and Frederique having her tits sucked by her son.

Harder he fucked, faster Aimée licked, and deeper he sucked until a burst of milk sent him over the edge. All three of them came with such intensity that they could barely even speak and they fell into a heap, arms and legs all jumbled together.

They all soon rose and separated, exploring their temporary home once more. 'Opulent' was an inadequate word for the sumptuous quarters they were in. The Afflicted had indeed kept up the maintenance of the place. It had been designed as something of a Xanadu for the Roman governors and over the centuries, the Council had seen to it that the place was maintained. Silks had been replaced every few decades and it had been kept clean as well. All of them hoped, more than a little, that they would be allowed to set up home here. From the quarters, they went down to the small city below, and though it wasn't as fancy, it was still an impressive gallery of quarters and passageways which could easily accommodate hundreds, if not thousands.

Eventually, they returned to the Governor's Chamber and pondered when the others might be arriving.

Suddenly, the world seemed to slow down. An alarm went off in their heads. Aimée felt it first and the four of them winked out and were back in the Governor's chamber.

"There," she said in their minds.

Abby focused in on the spot Aimée was indicating. With their hyper senses, they saw a figure blurring into view. In a nanosecond, Aimée had jumped to her clothes to retrieve a sword and jumped again to the place where the person was materializing. Frederique did the same, and the four of them formed a square around the person. All of this happened in a stunningly short amount of time.

It was Bullet. She looked about in surprise at being surrounded by the four beauties.

"Interesting," said Bullet. "I'm assuming your new state of being gives you some extraordinary powers. I've never been that anticipated. I was just sent to bring ..."

She drifted off, amazed.

"I'm sorry," she said. "But wow, I mean, what the hell happened to you?"

She was reacting to the visible transformation the women had undergone— full, high breasts, round hips. They were beyond womanly, but even with that there was a hint of muscle below the surface. When they walked, their motion was akin to a wolf or a large cat. Each motion was a perfect blend of strength and grace. Even their faces seemed a bit different and there was still that indefinable glow about them. None of this was lost on Bullet who was clearly awestruck by their beauty.

"It seems the Elders and the Afflicted make a good match," said Frederique simply.

Bullet nodded, shaking her head in wonderment. "I would agree with that statement."

She was suddenly distracted and looked past them.

"Oh my, my, my!" she exclaimed.

The boys had been in another area and were no walking toward them. Theirnew forms were no less impressive; chiseled chests and arms, perfectly defined abs. In similar fashion as the women, they were not musclebound, but there could be no doubt as to their strength.

Having lived in the dorms, Claude and Jacob were less modest and simply walked to the women without putting anything on. Their cocks seemed to be in a perpetual state of near readiness and hung down partially full, swinging temptingly as they walked. Martin wrapped himself in a bed sheet and in a way it made him more appetizing to the women, wondering what was waiting below.

Bullet shook her head to clear her mind. "Why I came. Why did I come here? Oh, yes," she said. "Yes, absolutely. There is to be a conventus."

"How large?" asked Frederique.

"All," said Bullet.

"What are we talking about?" asked Aimée.

Frederique explained. "A conventus, translated convening, is a gathering of a great number of our people. I have been to a few. Usually, a conventus means five hundred people, where different areas of our kind will send representatives to the gathering. The last full conventus was in the year 632. There has never been one in my lifetime."

"It is beyond a full conventus," said Bullet. "The Elders are sending fifty of their kind as well. Mortal friends are also being invited. For example, your friend Captain Brand from the Siren will be along."

"He's alive?" said Aimée and Frederique at the same time.

"Oh yes," said Bullet. "He somehow managed to evade the black guard and was one of the strongest mortal fighters in the resistance. Countless day-helpers will be along as well. We'll be meeting right here. The old Roman theatre is still standing and in fair condition. We will gather there. I was sent to inform you and ask if there is anything you need."

"Are we to be presented to the crowd?" asked Frederique. "I mean, will they put us before the group."

"I would suspect so," said Bullet.

"Then we need clothes," said Frederique.

"Well," mused Bullet. "You would actually make quite an impression as you are. But, I suppose we can arrange something."

"Do they need our help with transport?" asked Aimée.

"No," said Bullet. "I have strict orders to not engage you in any work. The deplaceurs will handle the individuals and the Elders have some machinery that can assist in moving larger groups."

"Machines that can deplace people?" asked Martin.

"Yes, Franz is practically drooling for the chance to dig into their workings."

"So am I," said Martin.

"Well, we'll see," said Bullet. "The Elders are a curious bunch. They are warm and courteous, but also very guarded about their culture and their technology. But, I've got to get going. Between spreading the cure and this conventus, I've covered more of the globe in the past week than I had in the past century. I'll send along the tailor, a dressmaker, and as many seamstresses as you need. They'll be here shortly."

Perhaps ten minutes later, Brolly arrived with the personnel Bullet had mentioned in tow. He arrived first with the dressmaker (a mortal man named Florian) and his assistants. Then Brolly brought the tailor, who was an Afflicted woman. Finally, two other deplaceurs arrived with at least a dozen assistants and countless bolts of fabric.

Brolly leered playfully at the women, but said nothing before popping out again.

"You boys are lucky, indeed," said Frederique. "You get the tailor."

"What's her name?" asked Claude.

"That is her name," said Frederique. "She's been making the finest men's clothes for the Afflicted since before I was born. No one knows her real name, and I'm not sure if she knows it herself. Oh girls, we're going to have the finest dressed men on the planet."

The women were called over to be fitted. Florian, the dressmaker took in the women with a cool, appraising gaze. After a few stunned moments, his face broke out into a joyful grin.

"I have dress forms," he said. "Back in my shop, I have forms that are shaped like the ideal women. I have the buxom form, the girlish form, the pixie-like form. Far too often, I cut the dress and sew it, only to find that I need to make adjustments. Of course, it is my job to flatter each woman's body and I do so very well. Yet, today I am presented with four beauties who I feel I could never flatter. Not with silk or finest cotton, not with flax, jute or modal. No dye, no stitch, no cut will ever give you ladies what you deserve. However, I will do my very best, and I offer you my gratitude now at giving me this opportunity."

In another part of the room, the tailor was examining her charges. With her, she had brought a barber.

"The hair and the suit go together, you see," she explained. "You two have been recently shorn, but Jonathan here can still do some work. You, the clockmaker, you need the most fixing up. Jonathan, take him first."

She evaluated Claude. She moved close to him and began running her hands across his chest and arms.

"I used to use a cloth tape," she said in a low voice. "Five centuries back, that's how we did it. It's still how most people do it though I have no use for that any more. You see, if I can feel you I can dress you."

"This is fine," said Claude.

It was actually a soothing sort of feeling, the way her capable hands were exploring and evaluating every inch of his body. He stood patiently while she ran her hands over every inch of his skin. She even 'measured' his face and neck. While she was doing so, Claude could almost see the gears turning in her head as she took mental notes of his dimensions.
Her hands ran down his belly, past his hips, and down to his feet. From there, she measured his calves and thighs. Eventually, she came back to his inseam. As was generally the case, Claude was semi-erect. There was no denying the object staring her in the face.

"Cock is a good word, I've always thought," she said. "The way these delicious things strut about and puff themselves up. Tell me, does this lovely Bantam like to puff himself up from time to time?"

Claude blushed furiously. "I'm afraid so."

"Of course he does, and why shouldn't he?" said the tailor. "What you need then, is loose fitting trousers. Too tight, and it's like you're taking out an advert every time he perks up to take a look around. Trust me, we know. Oh yes, us girls know what's down there. No need to shout it about with a scroll-cylinder in your pants. Yes, looser fitting trousers are what you'll be needing, and I'll put in a special inner sleeve I devised a while ago. For blokes like you, it helps to keep the boy pointed down if you can."

She moved on to Jacob and by the time she was done with him, Martin had returned. At her order, he removed the bathrobe he'd been wearing. The other boys couldn't help but notice that Martin was clean shaven... everywhere.

"I uh... I thought we should match," he said in a shy voice.

The tailor finished measuring them and then rubbed her hands together in anticipation.

"Right then, let's suit you up."

Bolts of fabric began to levitate from their resting places. They unfurled in the air, and as though an invisible pair of shears was slicing through the fabric, the pieces of various suits, shirts, and pants emerged from the flat fabric and went sailing into the arms of her assistants, who waited until all the pieces for one garment arrived before sitting down to begin stitching. The tailor herself began stitching away at a waistcoat.

Martin's curiosity couldn't be contained and he had to ask the tailor about her methods.

"I was wondering," he said. "If you can cut the fabric without tools, why don't you stitch it together that way, too?"

"Excellent question, lad," said the woman. "In fact, I can do that."

She paused from her work and picked up two scraps of different colored fabric. She knitted her brows and suddenly, their edges meshed together and one wouldn't have known that it hadn't been woven on the same loom.

"The problem is the clothes just don't hang the same way. The threads are part of the construction. I do blend the fabric in some problem areas, and it's dead useful with silk. Still, the old ways are often the best."

On the other side of the Governor's Chamber, it was a flurry of activity. Florian, too, had brought along his own hairdressers and over twenty seamstresses. Each of the four transformed women was assigned her own attendant.

Glennis was assigned a lovely, quiet girl with deep blue eyes and a somewhat somber disposition.

"What is your name?" she asked.

"Resi, my lady," said the girl with a hint of a German accent.

"What a beautiful name. How long have you been a day-helper?"

"It has always been so, my lady," she said.

With a hint of pride, Resi added, "We have been helpers for nine generations with not one betrayal. We count six among our family who have joined the Afflicted. My mother was a bloodnurse before she joined, and I am apprenticed here in hopes of taking a mate someday."

"I think you will," said Glennis. "You have a gentle soul and a true heart."

Glennis's kind words brought a glowing smile to the girl's face.

"I can only dream, my lady," she said. "It is my fondest hope."

Though the tailor had the advantage of her gift, Florian's scissors seemed possessed of their own special magic.

The four women were to have three outfits apiece: one formal, presentational gown; one more casual evening dress; and finally a dressing robe (or as the dressmaker called it, an 'undressing' robe), complete with lingerie.

The needles flew and the scissors clattered incessantly. Their hair was piled, curled, trimmed, and braided.

At her insistence, Frederique's attendant also took care of down below to assure she also 'matched' her mates.

Miraculously, as the three hour deadline approached, they were nearly prepared. They had new wardrobes, were perfectly coifed, and the Seven looked very much like the godlike creatures they had become.

With five minutes remaining, Frederique was the last to don her dress. As was her custom, she had chosen red. Her red, silken gown was perfectly cut. Florian actually was the finest in the world at his craft and Frederique's ensemble would be his finest creation to date. It needed to be; more paintings and more statues would undoubtedly be borne from this evening. He was designing for posterity, not just for the event.

The gown was lifted over her head and they began lacing and buttoning her in. It was tight in every appropriate place, lifting her angelic bosom perfectly.

"Do we need makeup?" Frederique asked of the dressmaker.

"God forbid!" he said. "Michelangelo couldn't have come close to recreating the colors in your skin. I won't allow a brush near any of you."

Just then, a small tearing sound was heard. The young woman who had been helping Frederique into her gown looked up fearfully.

"What was that?" asked Florian.

"I'm so sorry," said the young woman. "I was being so careful."

The dressmaker rushed to examine the damage and cried out with dismay. The entire back was ripped.

"We'll never make it!" he cried. "This will take at least twenty minutes to repair."

"Hold on," said the tailor.

She walked over and looked at the damage.

"Do you have any more of this fabric?"

"Well, yes, but..."

The tailor held a silencing finger up to Florian.

With a flick of her wrist, the back of Frederique's dress was cut out and fell to the floor. A new piece of the red silk was fetched. The tailor picked up a sketchbook and made some quick drawings.

"What about this?" she asked the dressmaker.

"Oh, that would be lovely," he said.

"Very well then," said the Tailor

Six strips appeared from the fabric and wove themselves into an intricate lattice -- the new construction flew against Frederique's back, and with barely any effort, merged with the dress. The new effect was even more becoming. Frederique's creamy skin shone elegantly through the fabric.

"Not as nice as stitching," said the Tailor. "But it'll do in a pinch. When you need to get out, just cut it with a knife. Florian can repair it before the next time you wear it."

"Thank you so much," said Florian, hugging the tailor gratefully.

"Professional courtesy," she said gruffly. "Now, we should go. It is nearly time."

Everyone left the room and the seven companions found themselves alone.

"What's going to happen now?" asked Martin.

"It is hard to say," said Frederique. "We may be getting some honor, or we may be put on trial -- though that isn't too likely. For the Council to call a conventus means they feel this is of great importance."

She felt the anxiety in the room and touched her companions reassuringly.

"Now, we must calm ourselves," she said. "It is important that we be calm and collected for what is to come. Everyone close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. Just like before a battle, you must find composure."

They all closed their eyes and breathed slow and steady breaths into their lungs. Abby sent out gently soothing thoughts. When she felt them still, she opened her eyes and looked around at her companions. All of their eyes were still closed.

They are so beautiful, she thought to herself. Each of them is beautiful in a unique way. How did I get so lucky?

She stopped for a moment upon realizing something.

They're so beautiful... how do I know that? How am I seeing them? All of their eyes are closed."

"Oh, my! I can see!" she cried out.

The others' eyes popped open in surprise.

"I can see!" Abby cried. "I don't even know how long I've been able to. All this time I've borrowed the eyes of others. Oh! Look at you! Look how beautiful and handsome and amazing you all look!"

They all shed a few tears of joy, but tempered themselves because of what was coming.

A messenger came running down the passageway.

"Excuse me, your honors," he said. "They are ready for you now."

"Are they all seated?" asked Frederique. "Is everyone settled?"

"Almost," said the messenger.

"Come back when they all are," she said.

The messenger was about to protest but decided it was best not to argue with the great Frederique.

"This is a performance," she said when met with the questioning looks of her mates. "Make no mistake, this is a performance. Anticipation is a key element to any public presentation."






CHAPTER 18



While the companions had been preparing in the governor's chamber, things had been very busy outside.

Wave after wave had been arriving at the plain in front of the same crumbled temple of Saturn where Frederique had greeted the evening moon. With the assistance of the Elders' remarkable machines, groups of forty to fifty were arriving in the center of the huge field. There were several circular areas on the outskirts where deplaceurs were popping in with smaller groups.

The ancient Roman theatre could still hold around three thousand people. Various Council members and other great minds of the Afflicted were supervising the activities of the many hundreds milling about.

"Be sure to get the blood rations out," said Peregrine. "We can't have Afflicted snacking off their neighbors now, can we?"

Elsewhere, Hypatia was considering the seating sections.

"Of course, the Elders get their own section," she said. "But as to the mortals, I think it will go better if we mix them up with us."

Reports of the true numbers started coming in and Patroclus found himself besieged from all sides, including by Sigrid.

"These are the numbers, Patroclus," she said. "Between day-helpers and Elders, we are over capacity by nearly seven hundred. The theater seats three thousand and we are approaching three thousand seven hundred. Where do you want me to put them? Who do you want me to make sit outside of the theatre?"

Patroclus viewed her with an amused expression.

"My dear Sigrid. What is the most common gift among the Afflicted?"

"Flight, but..."

"So where do you think you could put a people if you were out of space on the ground."

"Well, I would...never mind."

She scurried off to make new arrangements.

The theatre was filled. The Elders had a place of honor in the lower right hand portion of the seating. The rest of the seats were filled with much intermingling between the day-helpers and the Afflicted. It was actually a lovely opportunity for the Afflicted to mix with the mortal helpers who were integral to their way of life.

Many day-helpers were particularly thrilled to be sought out by fliers. Resi, Glennis's attendant, could almost feel her heart leap from her chest when a handsome flier who called himself Oppo swooped down and offered her his hand. She would watch the rest of the proceedings from a vantage point fifty feet above the ancient seating.

Trumpets sounded and all talking ceased as the crowd stood. Seven members of the Council were fliers. On cue, they swooped in from the sky and descended to the stage. Each Council member carried a lantern. Just as their feet hit the stage, the five remaining Council members appeared in the gaps between them, set there by deplaceurs who delivered them without ever being seen themselves.

The crowd applauded until Patroclus gestured for them to be silent.

All on the stage except Patroclus sat, and the crowd (those in seats) followed suit.

"My friends," he began, "and I truly mean that word -- 'friends'. We are gathered here today to celebrate and to give thanks. Less than a week ago, our way of life and our very world was at the brink of destruction. How much peril, few of us realized at the time, but tonight we will learn how close we all came to annihilation."

He went on with some general formalities; official greetings and the like that politicians the world over are always obligated to do. When he was done with his eloquent speech, he turned to the matter at hand.

"Now, it is time to welcome our saviors who risked all so that we might be here today."

The crowd stood again. There had been no command or suggestion; they simply rose.

Backstage, the Seven waited. Beside them stood Galen who was waiting to be called to testify about the events that had taken place.

Lights from one of Franz's inventions flooded the stage. Frederique started to step forward, but she was held back by her mates.

"You will stay here," said Abby's voice in Frederique's mind.

"No, we will enter together," insisted Frederique.

"It isn't up for debate," said Claude's voice, forcefully. "We will enter first, you will follow. We listened when you said we should make them wait. You will listen to us when we say you deserve your own entrance."

Frederique lowered her eyes in acquiescence. Her mates wished it to be so; she would obey.

The six youths started forward and stepped into the light.

The crowd gasped at their beauty. Even the young men were 'beautiful' if one considered that term from an aesthetic point of view. Handsome, too, of course, but the six of them could have been statues carved by the finest sculptors of any great culture. The fact they were living and breathing statues made them even more wonderful to behold.

It was clear that the tailor and dressmaker had known what they were doing. Each of the young men was dressed in the perfect style for his look and personality. Martin's suit called to mind the fashions of the prior century, but with many modern flourishes. Claude's suitcoat accentuated his broad shoulders, but with an open shirt that hinted at the muscled chest below.

Jacob's clothing tapered from his feet to his shoulders, and was of a shimmering green that complemented his red hair and lighter features.

His sister stood next him, and though they wore similar colors, their contrast was notable. She was more than a head shorter than him and was round in every way that he was straight. Her ample breasts were accentuated by the perfect curve and cut of her dress. Interestingly, the dressmaker had chosen not to reveal any cleavage, but he had left fabric out in her midriff and that glimpse of skin proved even more tantalizing for anyone interested in what Abby had to offer (and a there were a great many interested.)

Like Jacob, Glennis had also been attired to emphasize her lithe and long form. The skirt of her gown was slit to the thighs. When standing, it revealed nothing, but when she walked, hints of her incredibly long legs peeked out. Florian had taken his inspiration from a sketch of an Egyptian dress he had once seen. At Glennis's insistence, her neckline plunged deeply to reveal her newly burgeoning breasts.

Aimée had been given boots with heels and the added height gave her a regal presence. She held her head proud and high. This brought focus to her magnificent long neck. Dressed in a slightly lighter red than her mother, the fabric cast an almost russet tone on her light brown skin. Her breasts seemed to want to fly out of the fabric of her bodice and their roundness seemed to glow from within.

For all of the sensual nature of their clothing, there wasn't a stitch or an opening that wasn't tasteful. Each piece was suited perfectly to the person who wore it.

The applause was deafening. Though few people in the audience knew the complete story, they knew that the people standing before them had saved their kind.

The six took in the applause with gratitude and when it died down they turned and gestured to Frederique who stood beyond the lights.

Frederique was about to step forward, but something felt wrong. She saw Galen's beaming face who was gesturing for her to step forward and she knew what it was.

She walked to him and took his arm in hers.

"You're coming with me," she said.

"What? Gods no!" he said. "This is your moment."

"This moment wouldn't be if it weren't for you. Now come on, you old coot."

"It wouldn't be as pretty," said Galen. "All of you beautiful people and me. I would spoil the picture."

"Now Galen," she admonished him. "You are more than handsome and you must know it is your mind that makes you the most attractive man of our kind."

"Poppycock."

"Dear Galen, this is not the time or the place. Right now, you are coming with me. I'll have Abby compel you to come with me if need be -- and with our new strength, she could do it."

Galen acquiesced.

The crowd beheld Frederique first and the cries that flew from their mouths left them hoarse. There had never been such a beauty; nor such a warrior. It was almost as if the fabric of her dress was electrified, for a nimbus glowed around her. The artists indeed had their work cut out for them to recreate the vision before them in paintings to follow.

When it seemed the ovation would never stop, she turned and gestured to beyond the lights. When Galen appeared, the noise grew even louder. Swords were rattled, trumpets blared, and people's hands were sore from clapping. Frederique took Galen's hand and lifted him from the ground to float him above the stage. It was not in the great physician's nature to accept such attention, but he managed to bow his head in gratitude.

Eight chairs appeared behind the companions and they all took a seat.

At last, Patroclus held up a silencing hand and everyone on the stage took their seats.

"We have had a rough few weeks of it," he said. "Further, the tale of what has happened is not complete for most of us. Hypatia and her friends have researched these horrible events and have reconstructed the sequence as well as she could. Hypatia, if you will."

Hypatia, resplendent in scholarly robes, stood up and recounted what they now knew. How Arnet's mother had escaped after Frederique had destroyed Jacinto. How Arnet had schemed and learned and patiently infiltrated the Vatican to form the black guard with the serum he had perfected. From there, he had continued his slow, persistent march toward conquest -- and all the while he had been seeking Frederique. The Council had not known exactly what it was, but they had suspected enough that their reasons for transporting Frederique's family by ship had been justified.

Hypatia went on to describe the events in New York and the shameful lapse in security that had allowed the deplaceurs, their most prized resource, to infect the Council and from there nearly their entire kind. Also, she told of Arnet's horrific practice of draining all of the blood from people, filling his body to a near corpulent burst, and using that fluid to supply his fighters to infect others.

The battles of New York were detailed and analyzed, all the way up to the point where Frederique was taken.

"From there," said Hypatia, "I think is best to hand this story over to Galen. He can shed the most light on the details of our salvation."

Galen stood and paused thoughtfully.

"I was infected," he said. "When the skirmish washed through the hearing, I knew I had been taken. However, I was able to stop it. Before the fight I skulked away and found a hiding place where I stopped the flow of blood as much as I could. In my studies of the Norwegian bat, and bears and squirrels, I had learned the trick of slowing my system to almost nothing."

The fascinating thing about Galen was the way he stated this feat matter-of-factly. The crowd buzzed in wonder, but he didn't even notice and continued his tale.
"Having nothing else to do, I meditated on the events transpiring around us. Iknew that our four wonders here were part of the key. I also knew that Frederique held part of the puzzle. Glennis, however, this fair beauty, occupied the center of my thoughts. I had studied her system and it was fantastic. At the same time, and no offense to our new friends, her body was lacking something. Humanity and the Afflicted have been advancing, constantly changing. For over three myriad -- thirty millennia -- the Elders have been static. Pristine? Yes. Pure? Absolutely. Their systems are beautiful, their powers are gentle but impressive, and above all their knowledge is vast. Yet, with all of this knowledge, the lack of diversity in their systems had taken its toll. It seemed to me, that if the Affliction and the Elder strain could mix, it might create something wondrous."

"I knew, though, that Glennis could not simply mate with an Afflicted. If we were to simply inject her with our blood or take her by a bite, her body would reject the Affliction immediately. However, if we were to concentrate the Elder cells with a mix of Afflicted cells -- as well as a human source to serve as a cushion between the two -- I thought there might be chance."

Galen paused and shook his head in disbelief.

"Here, my friends -- is where I step beyond the boundaries of any science I know. I could have spent ten years to find the proper mix of donors and I still could have easily gotten it wrong. Call it luck, call it fate, call it the hand of God. However, if any of the donors had been different, we would not be standing here today. I stand here, a man of science, and I tell you that I believe the prophecy of the Elders played a tangible role in this. Each strength of each donor balanced some weakness of the others. Even down to the fact that Glennis chose Frederique's cells as the seventh donor. The fact that there were two families involved made the cells seem more friendly to the Elder cells. Martin himself is also an innocent, of sorts, and his purity assisted in helping the Elder cells agree to cooperate. When that final injection was sent into Frederique's system, it completed a profound and deep bond that marked the beginning of a new race."

"Explain that, if you will," interjected Patroclus. "How exactly did the serum get delivered to Frederique?"

Galen turned to the companions. "Would one of you care to elaborate?"

Claude seemed to be elected to the task and he stood to address the crowd.

"There was one frightening moment," he said. "When we were being pursued in the air over the river and we saw the dampeners. We thought at that moment we might have been lost. However -- and this is hard to describe -- when we all became joined it was as if our minds were multiplied when we needed it. In that moment, when the dampener appeared, all six of us were thinking about the problem simultaneously. It felt like hours, like that moment when your life flashes before your eyes. Yet, in that moment we suddenly had a solution. In a flash, Martin reached out and reconfigured the dampeners so they still appeared to be on, but the field was harmless. We faked being stunned, and, if I say so myself, I invented a neat little trick that allowed us to hit the water without incurring any harm. We continued the ruse when they dragged us from the river. Martin readjusted the dampening collars they placed on us, also."

"What about the blood?" asked Scaurus from a seat near the front. "We saw you injected with Arnet's blood."

"We killed it," said Martin. "Before they got it to our necks, we froze the blood and warmed it again so there was nothing alive in it."

"Just a point of interest," said Galen. "You needn't have worried about Arnet's blood. Your new systems would have crushed those cells almost before they were out of the needle."

"The last piece of the puzzle was my mother," said Claude. "If we were magicians, it could have been called sleight-of-hand, but what we did was real magic. When they placed the syringe in my hand, Aimée 'jumped' the syringe which held our combined cells and swapped it with the one holding Arnet's infection. When I injected mother the effect was immediate. Though the six of us had taken a few minutes to adjust when we injected each other, our bond with her was instantaneous."

Frederique spoke up.

"With my addition, we came to full strength. In the moment afterward, we immobilized the hundreds around Lyndhurst with little effort."

Hypatia spoke.

"Speaking of those hundreds, this brings us to the Elders. What no one saw except our saviors here, were the people gathered around us at that time. Loenshellen, this is your part of the story."

The leader of the Elders, father of Glennis, rose from where he was seated with his kind and ascended to the stage.

"First, I would like to say that we are overjoyed to be here this evening. We have studied your kind from afar, and it pleases us to greet you in this peaceful moment. Before I detail what we had prepared for such dire circumstances, I would like to put a question to all of you. How many of you would have taken your own lives first before succumbing to Arnet's contagion?"

No hands were raised, but the nodding heads and the ominous silence was all the answer he needed.

"Just as I thought," he said. "Were we in that situation, we would have done the same. Now, multiply that same sentiment times the billion-plus inhabitants of this world. Ask yourself what you would do to stop them from being enslaved to one man."

The silence was still heavy with contemplation.

"What Galen said is true," said Loenshellen. "We are a delicate race. In truth, our hyper-natural abilities are not as great as your own. We have some powers of levitation and relocation, among others, but the secret behind our strength is in our machinery. We have had thousands of years to perfect mechanisms which magnify our lesser strengths. Frankly, we have also created a few frightening weapons which we have never wished to use. It was just such a weapon that we were preparing at Lyndhurst. We were following the prophecy and every soul there, our own kind included, was within moments of perishing. It was only Kenloen who convinced us to wait a few moments more. We are glad that we did wait. Had Arnet triumphed, he would have been destroyed and we would have waged a war to stamp out the rest of your kind. As I say, we are grateful the prophecy has turned out in this way. We are glad to be here this night and count you as allies and friends."

From there, Galen and Hypatia picked up the tale again. They detailed the healing process and sang the praises of the heroes once more.

The tale was nearly done, but Abby interrupted.

"We have one question," said Abby. "Who was the voice?"

"What voice?" asked Galen and Loenshellen at the same time.

"The voice. It spoke to us with very helpful instructions. Was it one of you?"

Loenshellen shook his head.

"No," he said. "Our laws are quite strict on this. The prophecy dictates that we were to give our daughter to the world, but we were forbidden to step into these affairs in any other fashion."

"Well someone did," said Aimée. "And we wouldn't be here if they hadn't."

"I know of no one who would do such a thing," said Loenshellen.

There was a rustling in the ranks of the Elders. Kenloen stood and his people parted, leaving him standing alone.

"It was I," he said. "I know we disagree on these points, but I also saw signs among the stars. They dictated that one of us should take a hand in these events."

"I am saddened to hear that," said Loenshellen. "Then you must also know that the stars dictated you would leave us. 'The helper shall be set apart. They shall dwell in loneliness for four and twenty turns before walking a path forever apart from his people'. Those were the words, set down thousands of years before you were born."

"I know," said Kenloen. "I knew this before, but I also knew I was the helper foretold by the stars."

"He is welcome among us," said Patroclus sadly.

The fair young man walked silently away from his people and took a seat next to Palo and Scaurus, who greeted him with kindly smiles.

"It seems, then," said Patroclus, "that we have reached the end of our tale. We only have one matter left to attend to: the author of all of this misery. My friends, would you please retrieve Arnet."

Aimée nodded. This time it was the seven of them. They all winked out and were standing in the darkened room where they had left him.

Arnet was still bound to the table. He looked thinner, and of course he was near madness from blood-thirst. Worst of all, was the stench. It had been many days, and he had soiled himself countless times.

"Oh my god," said Aimée, stifling a gag. "How will we deliver him this way? I'm certainly not going to take the time to bathe him."

"I know," said Frederique. "I have just the thing."

Pop. Arnet was naked. Every bit of clothing and filth was sent away from him. Pop. Arnet was gone. Pop. He was back, soaked with water and whimpering and moaning.

"Nothing like a dip in Victoria Falls to get cleaned up," said Frederique. "Now we deliver him."

A moment later, they were back on the stage in Dougga. Before them stood a dripping, naked Arnet. He was shivering and covered his privates. He would have been laughable if he weren't so pathetic.

"Bring him blood," ordered Frederique. "We need him in a lucid state for sentencing."

A vial of blood was retrieved and Arnet swallowed it hungrily. The strength it gave him returned a hint of his arrogance to his eyes, but what he heard next removed any trace of confidence.

"Arnet," said Patroclus. "You stand before us a guilty man. This is no trial. Your victims stand around you. Your crimes are undeniable. What remains to the Council is to decide whether your punishment should be swift or slow."

"I will bite you again," growled the pathetic man. "I will find a way to bind you to me again. If it is not the Afflicted, I will take the mortal world. Trust me, I will find a way."

"How will you do that?" asked Galen. "We are all immune. We have created a vaccine that destroys your cells and prevents them from ever returning. Our new counter-serum for the mortals did much the same thing. Were you to inject anyone in New York, they would not be turned."

Arnet said nothing, but his eyes flared in fear. He knew Galen was speaking the truth.

"Fair Glennis asked that your life be spared," said Patroclus. "Out of deference to her, we agreed. Hypatia, our fine scholar and expert in the law has suggested a sentence for you. Three centuries ago, we had to deal with the abomination of Elizabeth Bathory. Our solution was to lock her away, alone in a tower. We will do the same for you. You will be placed in a secret location where you will live out your days, alone. Safeguards will be placed so no one can reach you. You will have the means to sustain yourself through a small crop. It will be a simple life and more than you deserve. Or, we could kill you now. What do you say?"

Arnet was silent and finally spoke through gritted teeth.

"I accept your terms," he said.

"Good," said Patroclus. "We only have one more thing to take care of."

Galen approached with a syringe.

"In here is the same vaccine we used as a cure," he said calmly. "For us, it removed your tinge from our systems. For you, because it seeks out your native cells, it will remove the Affliction entirely. Any remnants of other cells in your system will simply die off naturally. With this needle, you will be mortal and human forevermore."

"Not that," begged Arnet. "It is the only thing that is me."

"Yes," said Patroclus sadly, "and that only thing is what nearly destroyed our kind."

Arnet did not struggle or try to run. He was surrounded by every last member of the Afflicted. He knew that if he tried anything, he would be instantly killed. Galen raised the syringe and placed the needle in the rat-like man's neck. It only took seconds before a rosy rash bloomed on his face. He gave a strangled cry and fell to his knees, defeated and Afflicted no more he lost consciousness.

Patroclus thought of the location, a narrow, enclosed valley in the foothills of the Himalayas. He passed on the image to Abby and she gave it to her mates. Arnet awoke from his fever to see the walls which were hundreds of feet high which could not be scaled. He would never be seen again.

"Now my friends, this adventure is truly at an end," said Patroclus.

"Not quite," interrupted Frederique. "There is one more matter of business. As we all know, we have become mated, but it was without the approval of the Council. I would like to ask for that approval, officially."

The Council cast concerned glances among themselves. It was Angelina, who finally spoke.

"Frederique," she said. "I'm afraid that is something we can't do."

The angry blush on Frederique's beautiful cheeks was undeniable. The entire audience could feel the rage emanating from her and in another few seconds, the entire Council might have been simply obliterated had Frederique's furor gone unchecked.

Angelina rushed to the great woman's side and touched Frederique's arm tenderly.

"Frederique. It is something we cannot do because we do not have the right."

"What do you mean?" asked Frederique.

"I mean, that the Council's power is over the Afflicted. You are no longer Afflicted. We have consulted with Galen. You are new. You are not Elders, you are not us. You are your own race, your own species for that matter. We hope to count you as friends, but our jurisdiction over you ended the moment Claude plunged that needle into your neck."

"I see," said Frederique.

Frederique was now pale.

"Galen, is this true?" she asked. "We are no longer... but you are my kind, all I've ever known."

"It certainly is, my lovely," said Galen. "You are now unique. As I mentioned, if you were to try mating with one of us, it would fail. However, I want you to also remember that I said you are fertile. You four women can begin having children as soon as you want, and they will be 'you' -- whatever it is you will be called."

At his last words, Loenshellen had stood with an overwhelmed look upon his face. Glennis's mothers, too, had stood and a buzz was circulating among the Elders.

"What is it?" asked Galen. "What did I say?"

"Did you say that Glennis would have children?" asked Loenshellen.

"Of course," said Galen. "I think her system may take some time to fully adjust to this new form, but after that she can have children whenever she likes. Why do you ask?"

"Because she couldn't before," said Loenshellen. "This is a secret we had not shared. Ever since we left the valley, children have been growing fewer. In truth, only the last inhabitants of our original valley were fertile. All subsequent generations have been long-lived, but unable to procreate. Glennis was the product of the last viable egg among our entire race. How difficult do you think this was for us then, when the prophecy said we must give her up? It foretold that, the wandering child will lead them to the replenished spring," but we never knew what that meant. Now we do. Though she is 'new', it gratifies us to no end to know that our line will continue. Thank you. Thank you to Galen, and to all of the Afflicted for this gift."

After this momentous revelation, the crowd was abuzz until Patroclus stepped forward once more.

"These past weeks have been filled with miraculous events," said Patroclus. "Something within me wonders if instead of the end, this just the beginning of many more adventures. For now, we can simply offer our eternal gratitude to these seven, and Galen. Whatever you need, we will give. No gift will be denied, no favor refused."

"No gift will be denied, no favor refused!" cried the entire assemblage.

"Now, it is time to celebrate!" cried Peregrine. "The city below us has been prepared. One week of festivities. Drinking, drunkenness, and debauchery. If you don't participate and if you leave before that time is up, you'll have me to answer to!"

A final cheer went up from the crowd and it was louder than before as the seven were escorted through the crowd and back to the governor's chamber.

The companions filed into the Governor's Chamber. When the door closed, and shut out the beginning sounds of revelry outside, they found their minds in a curious overwhelming haze.

"We are 'new'!" exclaimed Glennis. "I can have children! I didn't know I couldn't, but now that I do -- when should we start?"

Martin also seemed excited, but the other five seemed more somber, especially Frederique.

"What's wrong?" asked Glennis. "Don't you see how wonderful this is?"

"You're right," said Abby. "It is. It is beyond wonderful. The problem is: we are alone."

"Oh," said Glennis. "I suppose that's true. I guess it doesn't bother me as much because I've always been alone. To be one of seven -- and such a wonderful seven -- I think it is magnificent."

"I, too," agreed Martin. "I mean, I suppose I was one of a billion when I was simply human, but I always worked alone in my shop. Plus, we won't always be alone. There will be children."

The four siblings turned their thoughts inward. They realized that much of what they were feeling was absurd.

The thought of never having another bloodmate outside their group: who cared? They loved each other beyond measure and couldn't foresee ever needing anyone else. Even the idea of one of them dying was a silly proposition. They were now as close to immortal as anyone could ever be. The brothers and sisters seemed ready to be at peace with their new status. Frederique, with her six centuries, was having the most difficulty adjusting. She brushed tears from her cheeks.

"I had a friend once," she said. "She was a devout Catholic but she was also a day-helper. The local priest started suspecting the family she was helping and demanded that she tell him everything she knew. She refused and she was excommunicated. Bell, book, candle, all of it. I took her from that place. I can still remember her anguish at being denied something that was so deep a part of her. A month later, she joined the Afflicted. It still took her years to recover and she still attended evening mass at least once a week -- though she never took communion again. For the first time, I understand how she felt. I'll... I'll be fine. This will just take a little while to absorb, that's all."

A gentle knock came at the door and Resi poked her head in.

"My lady," she said. "We were wondering if we could help you change into your evening wear?"

"Of course," answered Glennis. "Come in."

They were soon changed into their new evening attire and ready to venture out into the underground city beyond the Governor's Chamber.






CHAPTER 19



Because it was in their honor, the next week was actually not the honeymoon they might have hoped for. In a way, it was more like an endless wedding reception. As they traversed the streets of the underground city, they were constantly met by stares and wonderment. They also kissed countless necks, which were offered to them in the ultimate gesture of deference known among the Afflicted. They were invited to party after party, meeting after meeting. To have an audience with one of The Seven, as they were soon known, was something highly sought after. They found themselves placed in the category of celebrity or royalty. Eventually, they had to call on one of Hypatia's students to help them schedule their time.

The Elders lingered for a short time. They attended a few more social events, but seemed to be mostly sexless and almost prudish. The overt sexuality of the Afflicted seemed to bother them after a time and they all soon returned home.
The one exception was the banished Kenloen, or Ken, as he was generally called. He was a particularly popular young man. He might have been sterile, but his equipment certainly worked; which well over a dozen girls could attest to.

In terms of the Seven, their thirst had not abated. It wasn't unusual for one of the girls to find herself thrown into a dark corner and have her bodice pushed down so one of her mates could have a quick drink. Or, one of the boys might find himself deplaced away to a closet where his partner could slake her thirst kneeling in front of him.

The boys also continued discovering their new, adaptable members and their mates had no complaints.

All of the companions learned to hydrate themselves very well due to the large amounts of delicious fluids they were producing. The men continued coming in great volumes, and the women's full breasts certainly needed replenishment.

The 'proportional achievements' of the boys were still a simple rumor. A few people had gotten wind of the phenomenon, but it was yet to be verified. The Seven thought decided to keep it that way for the time being.

They actually didn't see that much of their old friends from the dorms, who seemed to be keeping themselves busy -- many of whom had taken mates in confinement.

Oppo was certainly busy, and they learned he had taken a shine to Glennis's dresser, Resi. While he had his share of 'required' Afflicted lovers, he developed a habit of calling on Resi for his daily ration of blood.

They didn't know about it until the fourth day, when Resi cringed a bit after brushing against Glennis while helping her get dressed.

"Whatever is wrong?" asked Glennis.

"Nothing, my lady," said Resi.

Glennis forced the issue though, and Resi finally confessed. The quiet young German girl rolled up her sleeve to reveal several cuts on her arm. They noticed she was also quite pale and she confessed that Oppo had quite a thirst.

"He says I'm too delicious to stop," she said. "How can I say no to that? Besides, he drinks when he is inside of me. When he is filling me with his lovely manhood I'm helpless to say anything at all."

"Send for him at once," insisted Aimée. "No. I'll find him."

She jumped away, found him, and a moment later, a confused Oppo was standing before a disgruntled 'jury' of women, including Frederique.

"What do you mean by this?" demanded Aimée, rolling up Resi's sleeve.

"I..." stammered Oppo.

"Don't you know how sick you can make her?" chastised Abby. "It's called anemia."

"But..." Oppo said, still unable to get a word in.

"Young man, I had heard such good things about you," said Frederique. "Where are your manners? Our kind has a reputation. Explain yourself."

He said nothing.

"Well?" said Frederique.

"Can I speak now?"

"Yes, do."

"I love her," said Oppo. "I can't help it. All of the young Afflicted girls I could have and she's the one who captured my heart."

"Well, when are you going to make an honest woman of her?"

"I'd planned on applying for her joining us at the end of the week," he said. "However, I know it won't be easy. Too many people lost mates and I know they want us to mate among our kind, first."

"Ridiculous," said Aimée.

Within a half an hour, they had Galen, Peregrine, and two other Council members in a room, along with Oppo and Resi. Aimée was coming into her own and it seemed she would be giving her mother a run for her money when it came to assertiveness.

"No gift denied, no favor refused. Correct?" asked Aimée of Peregrine.

"Of course," he said.

"Then allow them to mate. Now."

"There are papers," objected Peregrine. "Proceedings, and so on; and I have more drinking to do."

"No favor refused," repeated Aimée. "That was your promise. Galen, how are they matched."

Galen shrugged and put a hand on each of them.

"Wonderfully," he said. "Oppo's a flier. She'd become... a healer, if I surmise correctly. This is an easy match. No mysteries here. "

"Good then," said Abby, picking up where Aimée left off. "Sign the papers, make it so. It's a favor."

An hour later, Oppo and Resi were flying above the opulent beds of the main portion of the Governor's Chamber. The companions lent it to them for their honeymoon night. Oppo was in need of a new mortal bloodnurse, but he had no regrets.

* * * *

That same evening, they ran across Scaurus who had made it his personal mission to run the final security sweeps. He still felt so guilty about having allowed himself to be turned that he wouldn't rest until every loose end was tied up. He made it his habit to report to them every day just before sundown.

"How are things going?" asked Frederique.

"Very well," said Scaurus. "Believe it or not, we have accounted for all but two. Two swimmers. One was Sean, who was last known to be helping with the water supply."

"I know him," said Abby. "He's... lovely."

"Is he now," said Claude, recognizing what 'lovely' meant.

"Oh, yes," she said. "If I could get him into the pool in the Governor's Chamber, now that would be time well spent."

"Anyway," said Scaurus. "We're also missing Jessamine. She was last seen in the underground mansion just before Hypatia struck."

"Oh dear," said Frederique.

"Oh dear, indeed," said Claude. "Now, if you want to talk about lovely."

"Agreed," said Jacob.

"Well," said Abby, "since we both seem to know their 'loveliness' first-hand, I should be able to find them."

She reached out with her mind. Her face screwed up with concentration for several moments and then she sighed with a smile.

"Interesting," she said. "I've found them. They are safe and... hiding, together I believe. They are deep underwater. It seems that the liquid shields them in a way and it makes it hard to pinpoint them. No, wait, I see that they have taken up residence in a water pumping station in New York City. With the water around them, I can't reach them entirely so I can't let them know it is safe to return."

"Well, at least they are safe," said Scaurus. "That's enough to go on. We'll find them and bring them back in."

* * * *

One person who had been conspicuously missing was Palo. They had last seen him at the opening audience of the Conventus. Scaurus assured them he was fine. Palo had felt even more guilty than Scaurus at his involuntary betrayal of his family. He had been instrumental in rounding up rogue mortals who had been trying to use the knowledge they'd gained while serving Arnet.

Frederique suspected Palo's reasons might also have something to do with his grappling with the new scenario; his former mate was gone and she was mated to their son. For someone recently turned (relatively speaking) this would indeed be a shock to the system.

At last, the week ended and people began returning to their homes. It had been too long since a Conventus, and the week had been beneficial for all. The Council had been busy, with nearly thirty new matings and at least as many undergoing evaluation. A tired and happy community returned to their homes with new friends and lovers, as well as a feeling that there were brighter times to come.

After the last group was transported away, the companions found themselves alone once again, standing at the abandoned Temple of Mercury outside of the Governor's Chamber.

"Where now?" asked Jacob.

"We can stay here," said Frederique. "The Council said they will appoint it as we wish and staff it as well. In truth, it is only a place to sleep. Where we travel to is obviously unlimited."

"Oh, I'm not just going to sleep," purred Glennis. "It's been a very frustrating week. I'm a newlywed, or newly-mated, after all. I need something very badly, and a lot of it."

Her hands were already caressing both Jacob and Martin, who she was standing between.

They all raised their heads at a shift in the air. They quickly knew who was approaching.

"Brolly," they said to each other in their minds. The next moment, the jovial English deplaceur appeared before them.

"Hello lovelies," he said. He handed an envelope over to them. "Nice to find you all here. I come with an invitation. Your father and his new mate Seiko have purchased the great mansion below Manhattan. As a housewarming, they are hosting a liaisongangen to which you are cordially invited. I hope to see you there."

He winked out again.

"Oh my," said Frederique.

She looked at the envelope with some trepidation. Tears were brimming in her eyes.

"Mother, are you alright?" asked Aimée.

"I am," she said. "It is just odd. I knew this day was coming. Of course it was. It is just so final. The chapter is closed. My darlings, please don't think this is anything against you."

She wept softly for a few moments before steeling herself again. She raised her chin proudly, defying any more tears to escape from her eyes.

"To focus on the positive; he is mated to Seiko, one of the loveliest women I could hope for him. They are well suited in nature and she is a fierce fighter."

She looked at the invitation again. "How simply marvelous. There is to be a liaisongangen."

The others looked at her, unsure of the word.

"It's another Afflicted word, like wakneturst," she explained. "Liaison for 'link', or 'union' in French, and gangen likely from indgangen, from 'entrance' in Danish. It is a term used for a group mating reception. It happens rarely, only when many couples have been bloodmated at around the same time. I have to say that I am impressed with Seiko for being so astute. This is the perfect occasion."

"What happens at a 'liaisongangen' asked Aimée.

Frederique gave her daughter a sly look.

"The better question to ask is what doesn't happen, daughter. Just you wait."

* * * *

They dressed in the governor's chamber. They had been given a new set of clothing just for the occasion. Florian showed up in person to be sure the silky attire he had created fit perfectly.

He finished fitting the four women and stood back to admire the women. He had dressed them in layers. As he put it, a good evening ensemble was like a nesting doll, though not as bulky; you wanted to open it and see the next surprise within.

He specifically examined Frederique and Abby and shook his head in wonder again.

"You know," he said. "I use perhaps a third of the support in your garments that I do with other women. Your breasts defy logic, age, and gravity in ways a dressmaker could only dream of. I'm already making a fortune from the orders that are rolling in after your audience last week. The difficult part is explaining to my buxom customers that no corset or one of these new-fangled brassieres can replicate what the gods have granted to the ladies of the Seven. Thank you, though, for making me a rich man. Call on me any time, day or night. I hope to have the honor of dressing you beauties for centuries."

"It is our honor to wear your creations," said Frederique. "When you say centuries, do you mean..."

"Yes," said Florian. "I've been approved. I think it was what you wore at the audience that assured it. Now, if I can only find the right man. I've a particular fondness for Russians."

"We'll keep our eye out," said Frederique with a wink.

The men were dressed simply. Silk trousers, medium length long silk robes to go over it, and nothing else.

"I like the way those pajamas fit you," said Aimée of Martin.

Why she liked it was clearly evident.

"Yes, well... I," Martin stammered, his cheeks three shades of red.

"Sweet Martin," she said, kissing him tenderly while cupping his growing friend through the silk. "I love that you still get embarrassed. I hope you never lose that."

"If you keep doing that," he protested, "I'll have even more reason to be embarrassed."

"Perhaps I could relieve you now," she said in a sultry tone.

"Not yet," said Frederique. "You've never been to a liaisongangen. Trust me, he'll get plenty of relief -- and if I know anything about these events -- our dear Martin will have shed any modesty he ever possessed within a few hours."

In a flash, they were standing at the entrance of the great mansion that now belonged to Palo and Seiko. Frederique's words proved apt when the door opened and they were greeted by Jackie, in her usual garb, or lack of it.

"You're here!" she shrieked. She hugged Abby and Aimée fiercely, kissed Frederique on the cheek, and introduced herself to Glennis warmly. The next thing they knew, she was leaping into the arms of Jacob, whom she had partnered with many times in the dorms. Her kiss was a passionate, loving greeting. Rushing into the scene, Hannah appeared and threw herself into Claude's arms. Hannah had been Claude's first partner in the dorms.

Martin was a bit surprised. He looked at his mates with concern, but they simply smiled at the interchange. Like Palo had done, Martin was still learning the different levels of morality among the Afflicted. Among such a sexual race, a deep kiss could be the equivalent of a warm hug among mortals. Even a sexual union could simply be product of necessity or convenience, or even whim. So long as a mate's heart stayed true, jealousy was far less prevalent. That wasn't to say that mates didn't stay monogamous for months, years, or lifetimes. It was simply that the strong drives and long life of the Afflicted created a new paradigm of faithfulness.

"Jacob, I've been hearing rumors," Jackie purred. "Tell me, are they true? Is 'little Jacob' really adjustable?"

"Well..." he said, trying to deflect the question.

"It is true, isn't it?" she squealed, looking to Aimée for confirmation.

Aimée nodded with a wry grin.

"Oh my god!" said Jackie. "You have to show me later. Promise you will!"

"I suppose we could," said Abby.

"You suppose," said Jackie. "I'll remind you that I covered for you in the dorms. Iknew you two were popping in and out and I never said a word. You owe me."

"Alright then," said Abby.

"Wonderful," said Jackie. "I have greeting duty for the next hour. I'll find you later, maybe in the gym."

They agreed and started into the party.

Any prudishness left over from Martin's mortal days would indeed be mostly shaken away that evening. The celebrations in Dougga had been licentious, no doubt, but sexual activities had been kept mostly to private spaces. The mansion, it seemed, was a place where no holds were barred.

In the first hallway, there were at least three couples fucking in chairs or on the floor, and two more floating above them, bumping off walls now and again, oblivious to anything but each other. Each bedroom was full, the kitchen was well used, and even the safe room had been opened for business.

First, they did a tour of the home, greeting friends and kissing many necks -- often the neck of a woman riding a man, or two necks where a woman was being taken from behind. There were, of course, couples not engaged in amorous activities, but not that many.

Frederique was overjoyed to see many old friends whom she had missed in Dougga, but she was also relieved to be one of seven now. Before, she had been the main celebrity. Now, she was one of a group and it made her more normal in a way.

"I feel overdressed," she said, after they passed through a parlor where three couples were enjoying one another.

They all agreed. It wasn't just being overdressed, but so much passion had certainly begun affecting them, and that coupled with the heat caused them to need some relief from their clothing. The women removed their loose gowns and the men were soon shirtless and wearing only their pajama pants. This new state of undress only increased the number of stares aimed their way.

They were wandering toward the gym when they happened upon Bullet and Brolly, who were coupling in a corridor. Bullet's muscular frame was pushed up against the wall while Brolly took her from behind.

"Oh, hello luvs!" cried Brolly. "So good to see you."

"Brolly," said Aimée. "Are you and Bullet..."

"No," said Bullet unequivocally. "Just settling a wager is all."

"See you soon," said Brolly.

He began his thrusting again. Bullet rested her cheek against the cool marble of the wall and gave in to Brolly's assault. Her face, however, bore a placid, almost bored look.

"Damn!" muttered Abby as they walked away.

"What's wrong?" asked Glennis.

"I'll tell you later -- but the whole thing is a shame."

Just then, Seiko emerged from an intersecting corridor and smiled lovingly upon seeing them.

"I've been looking for you," she said. "I'd heard you were here!"

She was nearest to Jacob and gave him a loving hug which transitioned into a tender kiss.

"Hello my stallion," she said, smiling. "I still believe your marvelous seed is the reason I am here. To think, I was this close to surrendering to despair. One night with you, and now look at me: a new mate, a new life. I will be forever grateful."

She turned to Frederique and hugged her firmly, caressing the taller woman's face.

"I must thank you again for how gracious you've been with Palo."

"No," insisted Frederique. "I must thank you. I could only hope that my former mate would find such a woman. Where is he, by the way?"

"He's around," said Seiko. "Since we are the hosts, we've barely seen each other, but you'll see him at the sharing."

"There is to be a sharing?" exclaimed Frederique. "How wonderful!"

"What's a sharing?" asked Glennis. "Is it where you share each other's partners?"

"That goes without saying," said Seiko in a droll tone. "No, a sharing is sometimes a part of a liaisongangen where people share the gifts they've acquired from their new mates. It's a chance to show off, of course, but it is going to be so fun. By the way, I saw Galen and he is in the library. He wishes to speak to you when you get the chance."

"We'll go there right away," said Frederique.

As they walked toward the library, Aimée considered what was to come.

"Sharing," she said. "What special skills might we share?"

"I think if we put our seven heads together, we can come up with something," said Frederique.

They arrived at the library and opened the door. Within were Galen, Colette, and Glennis's three parents. Though Galen and his mate were fully nude, the Elders were still robed in their usual elegant attire.

"My goodness, you're here," said Glennis. "I wouldn't have expected that."

The three Elders rose.

"I am Sheireh," said the slightly taller woman, introducing herself to the group. "I am Glennis's egg mother."

"I am Monshellen," said the other woman. "I was her birth mother."

The three, while not necessarily embarrassed, possessed what could only be described as 'tolerance' for the blatant nudity and the activities happening just beyond the door to the library.

"We were duty-bound to come," said Loenshellen. "When news of this event circulated, members of the Council strongly suggested we should attend. They said it was the closest thing to a wedding reception among your kind. Though our relationship is unusual, you are our daughter and agreed that it was important that we be here."

"I see," said Glennis calmly. "I'm sorry to put you through such an ordeal: to be forced to mingle with the naked heathens."

"Gently daughter," said Sheireh. "You judge us too harshly. We have long separated ourselves from the base passions of humanity, but that doesn't mean we look down upon you."

"We simply have other priorities," said Monshellen. "While the Afflicted spend so much time in carnal pursuits, we prefer to dedicate that energy toward more intellectual endeavors."

Glennis seemed ready to offer a retort, but Abby sent a thought to Glennis that she should let the matter rest.
"Seiko said you wished to speak to us," said Frederique to Galen.

"Yes, I did," said Galen. "I was wondering what you might be doing for the sharing."

"Oh, we have a few ideas," said Frederique. "Will you be coming?"

"Of course!" said Galen. "Seeing all the new pairings, all the new gifts. I wouldn't miss it."

"Good," said Frederique. "What else?"

"I received your note," said Galen to Frederique.

"What note?" asked Abby.

"It was to discuss a breeding chart," said Galen.

"A breeding chart?" said Aimée. "Mother, what are we, horses?"

"No, said Frederique, patiently. What we are is Seven. Seven people who cannot produce offspring with anyone else on the planet. Three of us are related. Problems can occur, just ask the Hapsburgs, and they were only close cousins. It is essential that we breed outward from this group, so that when we do begin to have children, we plan accordingly."

"Were you planning on having children soon, Frederique?" asked Glennis.

"Not necessarily," said Frederique, though she was blushing a bit. "We have all the time we need. I wasn't not planning on having children either. I simply want to be prepared."

"A wise choice," said Galen. "However, I don't think it is something you need to worry about -- ever."

"What do you mean?" asked Frederique.

"First of all," explained Galen. "You are new. I keep using that word, but I need you to understand the full meaning. Your very genetic code has been rewritten. Yes, you Claude and Aimée share similar pieces -- similar building blocks -- but by becoming a new race, much of the slate was wiped clean. Further, as I pointed out, your bodies are damned smart. I am fairly certain your systems would not allow for a flawed child to develop. Just -- don't -- worry. This is Galen talking, trust me."

"Really?" said Frederique, incredulous.

"Really," said Galen. "Just, have babies when you wish. We'll revisit this say, in a century or two. When we start talking about grandchildren, we'll see how things are going."

A knock came at the door; Jackie poked her head in.

"The sharing is about to begin," she said. "Don't' be late."

"And that's our cue," said Galen. "My advice: don't worry about breeding charts. Blessings on you all."

They arrived at the gym and Jackie was there standing guard, supervising the queue of people waiting to get in.

"No clothes," she said. "No clothes in the gym, especially not for the sharing."

"Damn," said Jacob. "I was looking forward to taking more time opening up these nesting dolls. Oh well, another time."

The Elders, surprisingly, agreed to adhere to the rules of the gathering and disrobed with great formality.

The gym quieted as the Seven walked in. They were among a truly beautiful race, and they still stood out. It helped that they were flanked by three Elders as well, who shone with their own rare beauty. The conversation began to pick up again and they walked around, looking for a good vantage point to watch the evening's festivities.

They looked at tall cylindrical tank in the center of the room and both Abby and Claude shouted out at the same time.

"It's Sean!" shouted Abby.

"Jessamine!" shouted Claude.

In the tank, two figures were swimming with each other. Jessamine saw them first, shot up through the tube rapidly, and started to climb down the tall ladder.

"I'll get her," said Claude.

He reached out with his gift and Jessamine smiled upon feeling herself become weightless. Sean soon followed and Frederique reached out to help the Irishman down.

"How's that for an entrance?" said Jessamine when her feet touched the ground.

She was lovelier than ever. The streaming water running from her hair and down her body enhanced her beauty even more.

"Towel?" asked Aimée.

"No need."

With a tiny flick of her wrist, the water flew off of her body, as well as Sean's, and evaporated into the ether. It seemed obvious from the look on her face that Jessamine was anxious to properly greet the boys, but she wasn't sure how to proceed. Abby helped pave the way.

The lovely redhead jumped into Sean's arms and kissed him intensely. Pulling back from the kiss, she held his face in her hands and peered at him intently.

"My, you are handsome," she said. "You always felt handsome, but to see you. Amazing. Jessamine, you have a fine mate."

"Thank you," she said.

"You're mated?" said Frederique to Jessamine. "How wonderful!"

Hugs of congratulation were offered around. Jessamine exchanged deep kisses with Jacob and Claude. These embraces were tinged with multi-hued overtones. They had, after all, been within less than a day of mating.

Sean and Jessamine had found each other when Jessamine had slipped into the city water system to escape Hypatia. The two of them had helped each other. Being able to breathe below the water, they had taken refuge in the pumping station near the Hudson River. They had surfaced now and again to look for the resistance, but had remained cautious. One thing had led to the other, and they had taken each other as mates. They were perfectly suited for each other and were planning a home with rooms above and below the surface of the water on an island off the Virgin Islands.

Just as they had finished telling their story, the companions felt a surge of emotion in Frederique's heart. Palo was approaching. This was the first time he and Frederique had seen each other since they had taken other mates. The fact that they were both naked didn't necessarily help the situation.

Frederique felt a million emotions stirring in her system. Less than a month before, he had been her mate. She could not simply wash away the love and the passion, and the countless times she had made love to his Adonis-like body.

He couldn't necessarily suppress his emotions either. He had been mated to the greatest woman the Afflicted had ever known and now she wasn't even attainable, she had moved onto an entire other race which also included his children.

"Palo," she said quietly.

"My Queen," he whispered back.

She pulled him to her, hugging his muscular body to hers. When they broke the embrace, both of them had tears flowing down their faces.

"Are you sad?" he asked.

"No," she said, though her voice was shaky. "I can't describe it. I'm so happy, so very happy. You are too, yes?"

"Every day with Seiko is a delight," he said. "I think what you and I are feeling is just the shock of it. We had Morocco, we had the children, all of it was so lovely. Now, we have this. I can't help but wonder; who was that man? Who was that couple?"

"True," she said. "But look what we do have. Look at our amazing children."

"They are amazing, aren't they?" said Palo.

He turned to his son and daughter and took them in, in all of their beauty and radiance.

"There has never been a father more proud," he said.

He hugged Aimée to him fiercely. It wasn't until halfway through the hug that Aimée realized she was hugging her father -- naked.

It made no difference. Her time in the dorms had pushed the last of her inhibitions aside. He was still her father, and his strong arms enfolding her felt so comforting.

Palo hugged Claude next and then turned to the others.

"I offer you my congratulations," he said formally. "I doubt if there has even been a father whose children were 'married' and he gained three daughter-in-laws and two son-in-laws from the union, as well as one of his daughter-in-laws being his former mate. However, I think it is an amazing predicament to be in. I look forward to getting to know all of you better in the future."

He took special notice of Martin.

"Especially you, young man. If you are amenable, I would love to start lessons with you when it is convenient. It seems we share a similar gift."

"I would be honored sir," said Martin.

"More later," said Palo.

They were interrupted by the approach of Cora, the stunning courtesan from Arnet's reign. She bore a humble look on her face. Cora was now alone. Her system had been cleansed of the stain of Arnet and the mortals she had taken to mate had been deemed unsuitable so they had also had their bodies purged of her Afflicted cells and had their memories wiped.

"Great lady," she said, approaching Frederique. "I fear I did you great wrong when I was with Arnet and I wish to offer you my apologies and my eternal promise of loyalty."

"Can I trust her?" asked Frederique of Abby in their minds.

"I think you can," replied Abby. "She has been educated in the ways of the Afflicted and has taken the lessons to heart. She is aware of the chance she has been given. Yes, she can be trusted."

This mental exchange happened very quickly, fast enough for Frederique to reply to Cora without pause.

"War is an ugly thing, Cora," said Frederique. "And Arnet made it all the more unpleasant. I am pleased to have you among our kind. Well, to be accurate, to have you among the Afflicted."

"I thank you, Great Lady. I offer my greetings to the rest of the Seven as well."

Brolly suddenly appeared on a large raised cushion that was unoccupied.

"Attention please, attention! Come to order, you naked savage bloodsuckers, oh, and you others as well."

He said it with a grin on his face. No one could help but smile at the jocular Englishman's style. He rang a bell once more and people began to settle (and stop fucking in many cases).

"There has been a great number of pairings recently," he said. "I'm afraid you must interrupt the activities for a bit. You see, tonight, is a sharing. When one takes a mate, they often gain new, extended, or complementary gifts. Newly turned mortals, of which I understand there to be a few, discover their first gifts. Tonight, we'd like to see what you got. And, we get to see your private bits as well. I am the emcee and the judge."

"Judge? Is there are prize?" called out Oppo, who was seated in one of the high 'nests' with Resi.

"There is!" said Brolly. "The winning woman gets an evening with me. The winning couple gets a threesome with me. Finally, the winning male gets... to share his mate with me. No offense fellows, but ladies only for me."

"That's not much of a prize!" shouted a woman playfully.

"Oh sweetheart, once you've deplaced, your man is replaced. In truth, tonight is just for showing off. Though my personal prize offer still stands to any of the ladies. Now then, who would like to go first?"

Anders, their friend from the dorms, stepped forward with a chocolate-skinned young woman named Jasmina whom he had met during his brief time with Arnet. When the cloud had cleared from their minds, they were swiftly taken with each other.

"My name is Anders, and this is Jasmina," he said, smiling. "I am a flyer, and my beautiful mate is a spinner."

A chorus of 'oohs' went up from the crowd. Before Martin could ask what it meant, Frederique cut him off.

"Just watch," she said.

One end of the gymnasium had been covered with targets. There were bulls-eyes on the wall and rings of every size suspended in the air. There were also several full-sized mannequins. Boxes holding every sort of object ranging from weapons to simple household implements were held in containers at that end of the large room. Scaurus was standing by the weaponry. Naked, the several deep scars on his chest somehow made him even more fearsome -- and magnetic to look at. These were wounds he had taken on as a mortal in battle and the ring --he had never allowed his symbiote to erase the marks of his time as a Roman warrior.

Palo stepped over to Frederique and whispered into her ear.

"I forgot to mention one thing. Though we fairly certain we are safe, Scaurus asked that you keep a gentle eye out for ill intentions."

Frederique nodded with understanding and passed on the message to the others. The room was peaceful at the time, but Abby and Glennis easily turned on the equivalent of a mental tripwire that would go off if anyone began expressing thoughts of malice toward anyone else in the room. With their new level of power, it was a simple thing and did nothing to distract from their watching the events.

The objects Jasmina picked up seemed as unremarkable as could be. The first thing she picked up was simple lump of unformed clay.

She held it in her hand and focused her attention on it. Dropping her hand, the clay stayed in the air and began to spin slowly. Once it reached a certain speed, as though on an invisible potter's wheel, the clay began to take the shape of an elegant vase. When done, she stopped the spinning and the pot hung beautifully in the air.

"This, I could always do," said Jasmina. "But I had to fire it in a kiln like anyone else. Since I have become one with Anders, we discovered we have some unique attributes as a team."

She picked up a jar of glaze and began painting it onto the vase.

Anders picked up the narrative. "As any flier knows, there is a great deal of friction involved with the manipulation of air. When I mated with Jasmina, the new gift I received was the ability to see how I might rub two streams of air together. If done fast enough, even though they are merely air molecules, a great deal of heat can be generated. With practice, I soon learned how I might shape those streams."

Jasmina nodded to Anders that she was finished. He turned his focus to the pot. For the few fliers in the room who could see wind currents, they saw two opposing streams of air begin to encircle the vase. For the rest of the attendees, they simply saw the vase begin to glow a deeper and deeper red. When it was at a full glow, Jasmina lifted up a bowl of water and held it near the vase and spoke.

"We could let this cool gradually, but I'm a fan of a crackled glaze. The best way to achieve this is to cool the glaze quickly. What better way to cool something than by evaporation?"

Anders swirled the air differently now, swooping the stream over the surface of the water and aiming the cool air at the vase. Those same flyers who could detect currents could see that the air was below freezing in temperature. In only a few seconds, the vase cooled and the surface crackled into a lovely red -- reminiscent of the hues Frederique had worn. Anders took Jasmina's hand, and with their other hands, they each took hold of the vase and flew over to Frederique.

"Great lady, please accept this as a gift," said Jasmina.

"We will make one for each of you soon," said Anders. "Now we would like to show you the defensive implications of what we can do."

Anders and Jasmina went on to illustrate how they could form disks and projectiles which Jasmine would spin at obscene rates and then Anders would send them flying toward targets with frightening effect.

The demonstrations continued and ranged from pure beauty to deadly, and artistic to bawdy. One woman, Alexandra, had found that she could take anything she was seeing and project that image into thin air somewhere else. One couple discovered they had chameleon-like properties, but only when he was inside of her. The man joked that they were willing to volunteer for any surveillance activities at any time.

There were other gifts of creation and material manipulation. The Seven were somewhat embarrassed to see a growing pile of gifts at their feet. They'd had no intention for the evening to be a tribute to them, but it seemed to be the wish of those whom they had saved.

Brolly had obviously been briefed on the displays they would be seeing and proved to be adept at varying the bill to provide a phenomenally entertaining evening that no one in attendance would ever forget. Not only did he vary the presenters, but he also started with some strong 'acts' then went to the less impressive feats and then allowed the impressiveness to build, one following the other. As the number of those who had shared began to dwindle, it was clear that whoever was left must indeed have something spectacular to share.

"Now, my lord and ladies, I would like you to meet one of the newest additions to our group, the frighteningly lovely Cora. Once one of the most renowned Courtesans of the Continent, she now joins us with gifts she is just beginning to discover."

"Hello, my new friends," she said. "I thank you, Brolly, for that lovely introduction and my former profession is something I boast about with pride. It does my heart good to know that I am now among people who value lust as much as I do."

"Oh, the poor girl," said Abby in mental-speak to all of her mates..

"Why poor girl?" asked Martin.

"All of her life, she has been seeking approval. That was what led her to becoming a lady of the night, and what has driven her ever since. Now that she is free of material needs and is as lovely as ever, she still needs to please at the very core of her being. Do you see it, Frederique?"

"I do indeed," replied Frederique. "Young Cora and I will be having a conversation before the evening is done."

"As for my gift," said Cora. "I can fulfill your ultimate fantasy, your wildest dreams."

"That's quite a boast," said Brolly.

"Oh, is it now?" asked Cora. "Why don't you just see for yourself, my charming Englishman?"

"Very well," said Brolly, taking up the challenge. "How, exactly, are you going to make my dreams come true?"

"Well, we certainly don't have the time to truly make that happen, but my gift allows me to take the form of the woman you desire the most. I propose to kiss five men, and by doing so, I will take the form of the woman with whom they are most taken. But, I will warn you that there can be peril down that road. If you are mated, as most of you are... do you dare take the test to prove it is your beloved who occupies your topmost sexual thoughts? If you are unmated, are you brave enough to reveal the one you've been pining after in front of this great assemblage?"

The impact of her words actually brought a hush over the room and both men and women alike could be seen fidgeting at the implications of what secrets Cora's gift might reveal.

"Well, I'm not bothered," said Brolly. "No girl has my heart for the time being, at least not that I'm aware of."

"We'll just see about that," said Cora.

She moved to him and put her hands around his neck.

"Come on now, you handsome jumper. Who really holds the key to your heart?"

She pulled him into a deep embrace and as their lips met.

As she kissed him, she melted into his body. Slowly her form changed to look very much like that of Leonora and everyone ooh'd and wolf-whistled, but they were soon cut short as Cora shifted again to Bullet (briefly), then Jackie, then a Council member, and then she shifted to something that looked very much like Frederique.

"My goodness, you really are a slut," said Cora, pulling away from the kiss.

"Guilty as charged," crowed Brolly proudly. "Now, who is your next victim? And I should add, with the way she kisses, 'victim' is a lovely, lovely word in this instance."

"Take my husband!" said a brown-skinned woman who looked to hail from India or somewhere in that region. "I've wanted some questions answered for a while."

Her husband, a tall Russian tried to protest but she would have none of it.

"Come on then, Sergei," she said. She led him by the hand and presented him to Cora.

"Come here, then," said Cora boldly.

She kissed him and as she did, her skin slowly turned brown and when she stepped away from the kiss, she looked very much like the man's wife. The two of them were standing side-by-side and they could easily have been twins, though Cora's version was slightly more busty.

"You see?" said the man defensively.

"Wait... there's more," said Cora.

She started shifting again. Her skin tone remained the same, but she grew perhaps three inches taller and a bit more svelte. Her face changed, too, she now looked much younger and had a face that was much more open and innocent looking.
"My, my, who am I now?" said Cora's voice from the new face and body.

"My niece," said the woman. "Just turned nineteen and newly awakened."

"I... I'm sorry," stammered Sergei as he was led away by his ear.

Abby and company listened in on the conversation as the couple retreated to a corner.

"I'm not upset at your lustful thoughts," said the mate. "I'm upset at your dishonesty. I've seen how you look at her. You just have to tell me these things."

It turned out that Sergei, much like Palo, was fairly new to the Afflicted and was still adjusting to their way of thought.

"Next time we're home," said the woman. "You will take her... and I will watch."

Cora's next two revelations were equally revealing, embarrassing, and humorous and it came time for her fifth choice.

"Who will be the final one? Anyone? Anyone?" cried Brolly.

Nobody would step forward.

"I nominate General Scaurus!" cried Abby.

"No!" said Scaurus at once.

"What? Our bravest general, afraid to submit to the test of love?" asked Abby.

"Of course I am," said Scaurus. "I'd face a sword before a tryst any day of the year."

"Boo!" sounded the crowd, soon to be followed by chants of "Scaurus! Scaurus! Scaurus!"

"Fine!" he finally said, surrendering. He crossed to Cora and took her hand in his.

"No doubt, she will turn into my first wife, Julia," he said. "Fat load of good that will do, she's been gone almost a thousand years now."

So saying, he turned angrily and gave Cora such a kiss that her knees buckled. When she stepped back, she was indeed very Roman looking with her hair piled high in the intricate style of the time.

"Do you see?" said Scaurus, almost angrily. "What use is this, breaking my heart once more?"

"One moment, General," said Cora. She pulled him into a tender kiss, made all the more poignant by the fact that the onlookers knew the context of Cora's form. This time, however, when Cora shifted there could be no doubt about the athletic figure she became.

All heads looked at the figure of Bullet now in his arms. Then those same heads turned to look in surprise at the real Bullet, who was blushing six shades of red upon seeing that the owner of her heart returned her feelings... with undeniable evidence standing before them.

"Well, aren't you going to do something about it?" shouted Abby.

Bullet stood and walked to Scaurus as Cora slowly shifted back to her own form.

"Is this true?" she whispered, though the room was so quiet all could hear her.

"It... it is, I was too afraid to say anything."

"So was I," said Bullet. "How I've longed for you, my wonderful General."

"As have I," replied Scaurus. "I...I suppose we could apply for mating."

"Approved!" cried Galen. "You two have been pre-approved for a quarter century. What's taken you so bloody long?"

"Oh, if that's the case," said Bullet.

She winked out and was seen briefly in the dressing area, then returned with a dagger in her hand.

Within moments, she was in his arms, kissing him voraciously. A dagger appeared in her hand and she dipped it down, slicing a gash in the side of his neck and bending her lips to suck deeply. Scaurus followed suit and they took each other in the old way.

"If you'll excuse us," said Scaurus. "We'd best finish this process in private."

They winked out to a more private location to finish the ritual of mating.

While the room buzzed at this development, Frederique indicated Cora to the rest of her mates.

"Look at her, poor girl," she said.

Cora was standing alone, looking downhearted. Many men were eyeing her hungrily, but for her, she seemed to have lost her enthusiasm.

Abby reached out and listened gently to the courtesan's thoughts.

"Always someone else," thought the malleable woman. "This will be my life now. Before, I was just a whore, now I am just to be the girl they want. Why couldn't one of them have wanted me and just me?"

"I'll be having a talk with her later," whispered Frederique to her mates.

Brolly continued the proceedings and was indeed quite gifted at working a crowd. At last, they were nearing the end.

"Next," announced Brolly. "We have our two mermaids."

"Couldn't you at least say Merfolk?" shouted Sean.

"I don't know," said Brolly. "Put you in a corset, and I think you would make a delightful maid. Who agrees with me?"

Sean was met with wolf-whistles and whoops all around, to which he shook his head with a playful smile.

"Well then, lords and ladies, lovelies and letches," said Sean. "First of all, I would like to introduce you to my beautiful new mate, one of the newest members of our kind."

"And I might add," said Brolly, "sustainer of our friends Claude and Jacob over there in their time of isolation. Oh, to be sustained by one such as Jessamine."

There were hearty, lusty cheers from all around, but Jessamine held up her hand to silence them.

"It was my honor," she said. "And each day I feel more honored to be a part of this amazing community -- and eternally grateful to Frederique for plucking me from a life from which I thought I would never escape. I thank you, my lovely friend."

"It is us who are lucky," said Frederique. "It was my honor to find you. If what you showed me in the mine was any indication, I can't wait to see what you have to show us."

"We need volunteers," said Sean. "Three women, to be exact -- and they must be willing to participate in sexual activities."

Jackie's hand shot up before Sean was even done speaking and two other volunteers were easily found.

Two men went to a square section in the floor next to the glass water column and lifted it up. Concealed below was a square pool perhaps three meters across. Like the pool in the Governor's Chamber, it had gradual steps. Jessamine led the three women to the pool and they stepped into the pool one on each side. They waited in ankle deep water as Sean prepared.

"I had some ability in manipulating water before," he said. "But Jessie here came to it like -- well, like a duck to water. Once we mated we found that our powers were greatly enhanced."

He took Jessamine's hand. They nodded to each other and the show began.

Tiny jets of water suddenly shot from the surface of the water, as if propelled from some fountain equipment below -- though there was none.

The patterns of the fountain began to be more complex and the crowd applauded as more and beautiful shapes emerged. That demonstration would have been quite enough, but it was clear there was more to come after a grand finale of fountain-works that ended in the three volunteers being surrounded by a sphere. They looked like something akin to three snow globes, though the contents were anything but a Christmas scene.

"What we are about to do is a product of the two of us," said Jessamine. "Apart, we can do some impressive things, but together... well,.. I'll let you see for yourselves. This works best when we are underwater, so we will be adjourning to down below. We hadn't thought of this, but we would like to call on Alexandria to use her lovely talent to help you see us as well."

Alexandra nodded and walked to the edge of the pool. Jessamine and Sean dove down to the deepest part of the pool, at which point Alexandra took what she was seeing and projected it into the air high above the surface of the water suspended equidistant between the three globes.

Sean and Jessamine swam to each other and he pulled her into a kiss. Within a few moments, he was inside of her and they were making love. It was a quiet lovemaking between two swimmers.

Next, three men made of water rose from the surface of the little pool. Their translucent shapes were all reminiscent of Sean, but each one seemed a bit different; one had broader shoulders, one was a bit taller overall. The water-man with Jackie grasped her by the shoulders and turned her away from him, kissing her neck and pushing himself against her ass. The one with the next woman over pulled her into him and began kissing her, and the third water-man knelt down to begin lashing away with his watery tongue. This made Frederique gasp and Galen also sat forward in wonder.

"What is it?" asked Glennis of Frederique.

"I have seen this sort of thing before," said Frederique. "There have been other water masters who could create lovers, or fighters for that matter. However, they were generally only able to create one figure. I knew one man who could do two, but they were identical. They moved identically, too. If he had taken two women like this, they would be getting pleasured simultaneously with the exact same motions. To create three independent shapes, that approaches a level of wizardry."

The companions watched in wonder as the three women began copulating with their watery lovers. Jackie was soon bent over and was being pummeled from behind by her aqua-man. The globe around her muffled the majority of the sound. Her isolation actually made the sight more erotic. It was as though they were being offered a glimpse into some alien world where the lovers rose from the sea.

The woman facing her lover had initially been a bit too tall for him to take her easily facing each other, but when it came time for him to enter her, he simply sank down a few inches in the water to be at the perfect height to take her facing forward. The last woman was laid down on a bed of water which somehow supported her and her lover climbed atop her and plunged his aqueous cock into her. All the while, Sean and Jessie's image kept slowly making love up above.

There was no doubt that the lovers were capable. The looks on the women's faces was clear evidence that they were experiencing some wonderful pleasures. It seemed Sean and Jessamine were timing things, because the pace and level of passion grew within each globe. As the moment of truth was coming close, the spheres slowly receded around the women and the sounds of their moans now reached their ears.

Jackie was crying out with pleasure at each slam of aquatic hips against her. The other women, were also gasping out the stuttering cries preceding the inevitable orgasms that were just around the corner.

Though the motions had not been synchronized, it was clear that Sean and Jessamine were timing things to a true climax, in every sense of the word.

Just as the face of the projected Sean contorted into an orgasmic grimace, the women gave out three shrieks of joy as three liquid cocks tipped them over into joyful paralysis. Jackie fell over into the water and lay moaning as her water man dissolved back into the pool. The other women's lovers left them, too. Sean and Jessamine's heads soon rose from the surface of the water. They were met by a slow applause that grew thunderous as they stepped from the pool. The display had been erotic, yes, but the complexity of what they had done was the true reason for the ovation.

"I just have question," said Brolly when things had died down. "When do the men get a turn? I want my very own water Jessamine. Who agrees?"

There were roars of approval. Jessamine held up her hand.

"We're almost there," she said. "Getting the ladies right is just a bit more complex."

"Isn't it always?" said Brolly. "When you do, the queue will begin here in New York and stretch all the way back to Dougga, trust me. Now then, who do we have next on the docket? Who hasn't gone?"

Three hands were raised. Palo's, Galen's, and Frederique's.

"Not you," he said of Frederique. "You lot don't count, not in this part. Super beings not allowed. Hmm, I say -- Galen."

Galen nodded and stood. He beckoned to Colette, but also gestured for Pasteur and Villepreux-Power to join him as well.

"I'm afraid we don't' have much of a demonstration," said Galen. "Instead, I have something of an instructional lecture."

A groan rose from the audience.

"Trust me, trust me," said Galen. "This crusty old scientist will offer something of interest, I promise. My friends, our companions from the Elders, would you join us?"

He gestured to Loenshellen and his two partners, and also to Kenloen (Ken), who was seated among three Afflicted girls in another part of the room. They all looked confused, but stood and joined Galen in the center of the great pleasure dome. Padded chairs (meant for many delightful activities) were retrieved and the Elders were asked to sit in them. Galen stood by Monshellen, placing a hand on her shoulder. Pasteur went to Sheireh, Colette went to Ken, and Villepreux-Power went to Loenshellen. The chairs were facing the audience and each Afflicted had a hand placed on a shoulder.

"As you know," began Galen. "The Elders are a dying race. They revealed this to us recently and our hearts went out to them."

"Being who we are," said Jeannie, "we had to study the reasons for this, and we believe we've found an explanation."

Pasteur spoke next.

"It begins with the female reproductive system. While men produce a new sperm every day of their lives, women are born with a finite number of eggs. These aren't actually eggs, but follicles which develop into eggs, one a month."

Colette spoke next.

"Each woman begins with perhaps four hundred thousand viable follicles, though the number is difficult to determine. With one a month while she is fertile, that equates to perhaps four-hundred eggs that are ever released in a mortal woman during her fertile years. Those phenomenal numbers even make any problems a moot point for the Afflicted. Our oldest are approaching two millennia in age, so our women still have an ample supply."

"The problem comes down to numbers," said Galen. Four hundred thousand, divided by twelve months in a year -- that comes out to somewhere over thirty-thousand. Factor in unknown variables, and it makes sense that the Elders would begin to lose the ability to reproduce some time in the past few millennia."

"It is indeed an odd phenomenon," continued Pasteur. "Your systems are burgeoning with life, but the original members of the valley somehow skipped this very essence of vitality. Later generations were even born sterile. That this basic building block of life would fail is truly a mystery, and one to which we will never know the answer. Even more mysterious is that your children should lose vitality and even the original men lost their ability to produce seed which was alive. It was as though your race itself gave up the idea of continuing."

Jeannie Villepreux-Power spoke, addressing the four Elders in the room.

"Now is the time for a bit of chastisement," she said. "Your kind has long been aware of us, but you have set yourselves aside. Our powers are far-reaching and diverse. To not befriend us; to not avail yourselves of what we could offer has been to your detriment, not ours."

Colette spoke next.

"We feel you may have misinterpreted the prophecy. The words you used were -- "the wandering child will lead them to the replenished spring." By your reckoning, Glennis is the next line in the Elder continuum. By our reckoning, Glennis is no longer of your race. We believe that Glennis has led you to us."

"You see," said Galen. "We have great abilities when it comes to healing. We can regrow limbs and any other parts. You are still incredibly alive as individuals, the only part that is 'dead' are the components that bring new life. We have rectified that."

Loenshellen looked to Galen in surprise.

"You mean you might be able to rectify that?"

"No," said Galen calmly. "As we've been speaking, we have healed you. The four of you can now have children, with no difficulties. We will do the same for any of your kind who so desire."

The cheeks of the two women were wet with tears. The men, too, were certainly weeping. In fact, there was barely a dry eye in the house.

"You see," said Galen, "the wandering child was Glennis, but the spring that has been replenished is yours."

"Well then," said Brolly. "It seems we have a clear winner. I'm not sure how you can exactly top reviving a race. Dr. Villepreux-Power, Colette, my place tomorrow evening. You can collect your prize then. Looking at the docket, it seems we only have our hosts Palo and Seiko remaining, other than our amazing seven. Palo, what exactly do you have to offer?"

"Yes," said Palo, standing. "Seiko and I have gained some new significant skills upon mating. For our sharing, we propose to battle any other pair -- other than members of the Seven, of course."

"Any takers?" asked Brolly.

The room was abuzz. Different couples were discussing whether they would like to take up the challenge, but it wasn't an easy choice. It wasn't from cowardice, but common-sense. Word of Seiko's windswords had spread quickly and Palo's ability in the air had grown exponentially during the past weeks of battles. To brave fighting them meant to also fulfill an obligation of being able opponents.

Just then, Bullet and Scaurus reappeared, both of them flushed from recent exertions and Bullet, especially, was aglow with happiness. Perhaps it was because she was usually so stoic, the perpetual smile on her face made her seem exceptionally stunning.

"And there we go!" cried Brolly, seeing the couple return. "What do you say, you two?"

"Say to what?" asked Scaurus.

"Seiko and Palo have challenged any other duo to a battle.

"Ah..." said Scaurus. "Excellent. I'm game."

"So am I," agreed Bullet. She kissed the General fondly on the cheek. "With my new mate at my side, I feel I could conquer the world."

"Very good!" said Brolly. "I understand we have a few preparations to make. So, we will have a half hour break for food and refreshments, and then continue with our evening."

In the break, Frederique had gathered her mates about her and ordered them to drink as much fluid as they could, especially the boys.

"We have a crowd to please," she said. "We had best be prepared."

Everyone actually reassembled early, excited for the events to come.

"Oyez, oyez, oyez!" cried Brolly. "We will now continue our festivities." If I could, I would ask you to gather either in the nests or at the far end where appropriate precautions will be put in place."

The crowd moved to where they were directed. Two people with gifts in shielding set to work and wove an invisible fabric across the end of the room where everyone gathered. Brolly was on the opposite side. He tossed a dagger toward the crowd and watched it clang off the invisible fence.

It had been decided that clothing was allowed for this special event, so Palo and Seiko were preparing themselves in one area, strapping on swords and weapons over sleek leather armor. In another part of the room, Bullet and Scaurus has chosen more traditional battle armor. They had actually gone to another place for a brief time, evidently to spar with each other and test out their new skills.

"In this corner," he said, "possessing more than two and a half millennia in battle and countless kills among them: Bullet and Scaurus!"

The crowd cheered wildly.

"In this corner, having far less experience, but a dazzling pedigree and a frightening reputation, new mates and our hosts: Palo and Seiko."

The cheering was just as loud.

"There are a few rules. One, you may only jump within this room behind the screen for evasion. No retreating elsewhere for your team to rest."

Bullet nodded grimly.

"Two," continued Brolly, "the battle will be no more than ten minutes. Three, the first seven-day wound will end the battle and the other team will be declared the victors. Now, I'm going to get the hell out of here and leave you to it."

He popped out and reappeared on the other side of the screen with the crowd.

The two pairs started out circling each other. Each flier floated above his respective mate. Though there were no attacks, it wasn't as though nothing was happening. Both pairs were tensed and ready, knowing the battle could easily end with one swift attack if they weren't careful.
It was Palo who made the first move. In the blink of an eye, he shot out a lunge toward Bullet. It was an air lunge, right out of Seiko's book. Bullet was quick to move, but there could be no doubt about Palo's new gift. A harsh tear ripped through the fabric of the padded floor, and there was actually a trace of blood upon it, showing just how close Bullet had been to losing the match right away.

Scaurus spared no time in countering. He flew toward Palo the instant he sent the blow toward Bullet, but he moved with such speed it was uncertain whether he flew or jumped. Seiko was ready, however, and she had slashed through the air above her directly in front of Palo creating a wall of air that Scaurus rebounded off of.

He quickly zipped to a safe location.

"I'm fine!" cried Bullet from a corner. She was sporting a tiny slash on her arm, nothing more.

She zipped out and appeared near Seiko who sent a thrust her way, zipped out and was behind Seiko a split-second later. She drew first blood for her team, but only a little, nicking a scratch into Seiko's shoulder.

Seiko evaded Bullet's attack with the move that would gain her a new nickname: 'Cricket'. She could not fly, but the gift she had gained from Palo's blood was an uncanny leaping ability. As Bullet attempted to fly a blade through her arm, Seiko popped up vertically, quite nearly hitting the ceiling of the gym which was a good nine or ten meters in height.

Palo swooped in to catch her and the two of them hovered, ready to counter any attacks.

Scaurus held back, which gave Palo and Seiko reason for concern. It had been a perfect opportunity for Scaurus to attack, yet he had waited.

Bullet was waiting below. She pulled her hands apart and then clapped them together quickly.

At the exact same moment, Scaurus lunged. The confusing thing was, he was clearly aiming for a spot below them. Palo and Seiko prepared to parry an upward attack, thinking he would swoop up at the last minute.

The reason for Bullet's motion became clear. Suddenly, they fell sharply and were directly in the path of Scaurus's lightning attack. Only Palo's amazing sword arm allowed them to escape unscathed.

"What happened?" asked Seiko.

"She took away the air," muttered Palo. "Somehow, she deplaced every bit of air below us and created an instant vacuum."

"Well then," muttered Seiko angrily. "How would they like to feel the opposite?"

With a tiny nod of her forehead, Seiko sent out an attack that was almost the deciding strike. Two areas of air near their two opponents suddenly seemed to recede, and then expanded. Both Scaurus and Bullet were sent reeling, buffeted by the instant shockwave of a mini-storm.

Palo darted toward Scaurus and Seiko sprang toward Bullet. Scaurus felt Palo's blade pierce his shoulder and it might have been the end of the battle had Bullet not deplaced away from Seiko straight to him and popped him out to a safe location.

The battle was officially 'on' and the attacks began in earnest. There was no more circling or planning; there was no time.

It should be noted that a common myth surrounding sword fighting is the idea of prolonged battles. For the most part, long battles are a creation of literature. In truth, the majority of battles and duels, even among the finest of swordsmen, are ended within one or two exchanges.

The ten minute limit placed by Brolly was actually an absurd number. It was a mark no one would have thought would be reached. Yet, the minutes ticked by and the fighting grew more intense. In flashed Bullet; up jumped Seiko. Swoosh, came a deadly air-strike from Palo. Impossibly, Scaurus evaded it. Then Bullet would attack Palo, and Seiko would seize the distraction to leap for Scaurus.

The wounds grew more and more numerous. Soon, there wasn't a limb or a face without a gash in it.

Nine minutes, and the melee continued. Nine minutes and thirty seconds, they still fought. Brolly reached down for his bell, preparing to ring it; something he had never imagined he would be doing.

With less than ten seconds, the opponents commenced a series of attacks and counter-attacks so swift that even the Seven had difficulty following the action.

Suddenly, it stopped. Palo and Scaurus sensed something was wrong and stopped to look down at their mates. Seiko's face was an angry grin, and Bullet's teeth were gritted in determination.

Each of their blades pierced the other's breast. Each blade had sunk into the heart of their opponent.

"Now!" cried Abby in several minds. "I need you all, this instant!"

The two fierce female warriors froze; fully immobilized down to the cellular level by the Seven. Both Scaurus and Palo were frozen, too. The rest of the room looked on in horror, but an instant later, they could see little because Bullet and Seiko were surrounded by the seven as well as Galen and the other scientists who had recently cured the Elders.

"How should we proceed?" asked Abby.

"First the blades," said Galen. "We need to remove them as gently as possible. They can do just as much damage going in as going out."

"Easy," said Jacob.

With a quick blink, the blades disappeared from the women's hands (and flesh) and dropped harmlessly to the floor beside the group.

"Now we need to stitch," said Galen. "I'm a bit slow at it, but I can do it."

"No need," said Martin. "I think I can see what to do, but if Abby can pass on the knowledge from you, I can do it right."

Galen quickly transferred the information and Martin nodded grimly. In less than a heartbeat, the women's hearts and flesh were mended.

"While we're at it," said Martin. "We can do some cleanup."

With the combined power of his mates behind him, he reached out and 'stitched' every wound on the four warriors together. The blood remained on their skin, but below, their flesh was returned to exactly the way it had been before the battle.

They released Bullet and Seiko and the two women gasped in surprise. They had been one iota away from death and now they were healed.

"I feel I must declare this a tie," said Brolly. "As such, I award a special prize to these two women, very lucky women, I might add, you may join me at my abode two evenings from now."

"Good battle," said Scaurus to Palo.

"Indeed," said Palo. "Never again will I fight against you, sparring or otherwise."

"Agreed," said the old general.

The two women expressed the same sentiment to each other.

* * * *

"Now," said Brolly. "The grand finale -- the pièce de résistance -- our amazing seven are going to take the stage."

"What are they going to do?" shouted a voice from the back.

"Anything they bloody well want," said Brolly. "In advance, I would also like to declare them special winners and..."

"And we can come over to your place in three days' time?" said Aimée.

"How well you know me, young Aimée," said Brolly. "But actually, it is an open invitation. Any night, any time. I have one condition, however, it must be the four of you ladies together. Any less and I'll bar the door. Well then, have at it, you marvels of manhood, you luscious ladies. Show us what you've got, gifts or otherwise. We can't wait to see."

The crowd was bidden to take up the more casual seating of before and couples and groups gathered around the edges of the room to watch whatever was about to transpire.

The seven companions felt full-to-bursting. They had consumed around a pitcher of water apiece which their systems had absorbed almost gleefully in readiness. As if their bodies knew, the women had felt their breasts slowly swelling in anticipation of something lovely to come. The men had felt their balls aching and their inner systems preparing 'lively' fluid which their bodies now wanted to share with a vengeance.

They walked around the room in an impromptu parade, nodding greetings to their friends and acquaintances and humbly accepting the compliments the awe-stricken stares represented. Each companion was possessed of the general humility innate to most people. To each of them, they were still just themselves. However, there could be no denying the attractiveness of their mates and there was certainly an undeniable pride in having such wonders as life partners.

Once they had circled the room, they met in the middle, facing each other in a circle.

They had debated whether they would begin with demonstrations of their powers -- but those were fairly well known. They had finally agreed that, with the rumors flying around, it made sense to simply cut to the chase and 'give them what they wanted' as Jacob so aptly put it.

The fact they were being observed by so many people seemed to merely increase the excitement of the companions. Martin, the most modest of the lot, seemed to have the hardest cock of all from the vision of perfection before him, and his member was already achieving a certain level of hyper-tumescence and attracting many comments.

Frederique walked to the middle of the group and then slowly levitated above them. With her round breasts, ready to burst with sweet milk and her round hips and perfect figure, she was a goddess of fertility, lust, and carnality all rolled into one. Whatever she was, she was perfection as she waved to her mates with a simple gesture of blessing.

"Begin," she said.

The couples remaining on the ground turned to each other. Aimée turned to Claude, Abby to Jacob, and Glennis to Martin. Each girl pulled her young man's face to her lips and kissed him deeply. Each boy's lips soon worked a trail down to his current partner's breasts. A sigh of pleasure escaped each girl's lips upon feeling the warm nectar flow from her very body into her lover's mouth.

It was undeniable, the thirst for blood had been replaced for other fluids, but the need was no less. Each boy felt the surge of energy and satisfaction as the vibrant cells touched their tongues and enervated their systems. Satiated in that need, now they felt strong and undeniable lust. The taste of their mate simply stirred greater needs in their system.

The boys kept drinking thirstily from their mates who were moaning with pleasure. The girls' hands reached out instinctively and began tugging at the rigid cocks beckoning to their most base instincts. Frederique descended from above and went to Aimée and Claude. With an almost evil glint in her eye, she pushed Claude's face aside and dipped her own mouth to her daughter's breast.

Aimée gasped out at the strong pull of suction as Frederique took a long sensuous drink.

Perhaps drink was an inaccurate word, though. Once she had taken a long pull she knelt down before Claude and placed her sensuous full lips against his swollen tip.

At least half of the room let out an involuntary groan of envious pleasure as Frederique opened those same lips and let a warm trickle of milk flow down her son's cock. Looking up into his eyes with a mix of adoration and challenge, she raised up higher and with her hands lifted her perfect breasts up to surround Claude's milk-soaked cock. She had saved even more and opened her mouth further, letting the remaining cream drip out, down her chin, and into the chasm between her massive breasts. Claude could barely stand from pleasure as she began working his cock between her fabled orbs. With Aimée's tasty lubricant, she dipped down and up, titfucking her son in ways that would haunt the dreams of every man present for years to come.

Aimée followed suit and crossed to Glennis, drinking from her bloodsister before kneeling to service their new clockmaker. Glennis then moved to Abby, drinking from the pixie's round breasts before pouring the stuff she'd drawn down upon Jacob and working him between her newest, proudest attributes. Abby then moved to Claude and caressed him from behind while Frederique pleasured him.

Claude's cock was soon sliding a wet and joyful path, disappearing between Frederique's softness and then popping up again for a quick dive into her mouth. When he was close, she took him into her mouth and begged him with her mind.

"Just give me one drink, beloved," she pleaded. "I hunger for you so much. Grant me a taste."

Claude complied and released one, perfect gush into her mouth. The young men truly had a faucet-like ability now, and could turn their cum on and off at will.

Frederique drank her son's salty syrup and groaned out with pleasure. She had received her first dose, but it only made her thirst even more for the flavor of her other mates.

The women moved on and made quick work of this ritual (not that anyone in the audience was bored). The first stage concluded with Frederique returning once more to kneel before Claude while he drank lovingly from Aimée's breasts. The relationship between the three was certainly well known and -- admitting it or not -- served to set the blood pounding in the watchers all the more. Beyond that, people responded to the pure animal way Claude was titfucking his mother. His massive cock also began with the long slide between her breasts, but with each thrust a bit more of cock slid into her mouth. Eventually, the breasts were left behind and it was only her throat that was skillfully taking his full manhood.

She could taste everything on his shaft. The milk of her bloodsisters, their luscious spit lingering from their tongues, and even the traces of her other mates' cum which the other women had swallowed. There was no gagging and no obstacles. The only small barrier was the angle. Claude's ramrod stiffness allowed for no bend, so Frederique accommodated by adjusting the angle of her body. Not having any desire to pause long enough to lay herself upon one of the raised couches or platforms, Frederique simply created her own, invisible mattress. Her body levitated up into the air, horizontally, allowing her to open her throat in one straight path for Claude. His long tool simply slid in and out of her mouth and down her throat with ease. Only the wet swish of his cock against her glistening tongue could be heard. To add to the 'show', Frederique began rotating her body in the air, letting Claude continually throat-fuck her as she turned like a perfect feast upon his pulsating 'spit'. After completing her revolution, she slowed him down and lowered herself again to the ground. Gazing up at him with her luminous eyes, she said nothing in his mind but simply nodded to give him permission to fire his sturdy musket.

His single, forceful eruption of cum poured down her throat. She gobbled it up with a vengeance, and she was ready. They all were. They were ready to take each other completely and absolutely before their gathered friends.

Claude pulled his milk/cum/spit-soaked raging rod out of his mother's throat and lifted her up to kiss her intently. As their tongue's danced they instinctively began to float in the air.

Below, Aimée and Abby moved to Jacob, the two dear friends (now bloodsisters and mates) moved to each side of Jacob and snuggled into him, ready to attack.

Glennis stalked Martin hungrily. The three strains of cum coating her tongue had her newly awakened libido roaring like an animal in her breast. To her, at that moment, Martin truly was prey; prey she wished to devour with her cunt and control completely.

In deference to their audience, Glennis moved to one side while Abby, Jacob and Claude moved to the other. They realized they could all fly, connected as they were, but chose to offer greater variety to their audience.

The audience was justifiably enrapt. They had started quite a distance from the mates, but they had crept in closer and closer, and the lovers found themselves surrounded by a ring fascinated observers.

As they had discussed before, there seemed no reason to delay things any more. It was time for the big event.

Glennis pushed Martin down onto his back and she squatted down above him, pulling his raging cock into her dripping cunt with a hungry growl. There was a reason for this position and it would soon be evident.

Abby and Aimée were trading kisses with Jacob. As the passion heated up, Aimée decided to cede this first round to Abby. She led her bloodsister to a padded platform and bent Abby over, making her offer her shapely ass to her brother. Aimée crawled up on the platform and lay down on her back, her face directly below Abby's. She held one of the empath's hands in hers and they both sighed as Jacob slid his slim, tall cock into his sister's cunt.

"Is it good," whispered Aimée.

Abby leaned down and kissed her bloodsister's upside-down face.

"So good," she murmured.

Above them, a second sigh joined the group as Frederique descended upon Claude's beautiful cock. To the other side, Glennis purred as she raised herself up on Martin and descended again.

Claude concentrated on his cock and willed it upward. Frederique gasped as she felt the slick shaft begin its expansion. Of course, her flexible interior welcomed it and stretched accordingly. More and more, Claude grew until she felt him impossibly pushing against somewhere that was surely somewhere mid-belly, but she had no discomfort, she simply stretched and adjusted within.

Grinning, Claude shrank himself back down to his usual impressive size.

"Oh my boy, how did you manage that so easily?" asked Frederique. "Again, please," she whispered.

She moaned as she felt him filling her and receding again.

Those observing Abby saw her eyes widen as she felt Jacob's immenseness fill her, then recede only to push again.

"Oh my god," moaned Abby.

"What happened?" asked Jackie, who was sitting right beside Aimée. "What did he do?"

Abby could only shake her head mutely. She couldn't speak as Jacob started filling her once more.

Across from them, Glennis was still squatting all the way upon Martin. Perhaps a few people had noticed the cylindrical outline beneath her skin extending far above her navel. However, few people watching them had any clue about the monster that was currently occupying her lovely belly.

As Martin started to shrink himself again, Glennis spoke through gritted teeth.

"Don't you dare," she hissed. "I know you can do it, but don't even think about taking any of that away. We can play later. Right now, I need you to fuck me senseless with that thing -- all of it."

Glennis made the first move. She started to raise herself up and Martin's cock kept on emerging and emerging and emerging. Glennis raised her hips up higher and higher until her tight, hungry pussy was a full twelve inches above Martin's hips. Only then was the tip of Martin's elongated shaft beginning to show. The onlookers gasped at the incredible sight before them.

With their new gifts had also come resilient muscles. Glennis needed them as she lowered herself back down on Martin's behemoth. She settled upon him and moaned, wriggling her hips a bit with pleasure before ascending again.

The crowd around Jacob, Abby and Aimée were just as spellbound. As they had for Galen, Abby actually made her mid-section transparent so the onlookers could watch the length of Jacob's stunning cock make the full trip out of her tiny body and back in again.

Argue as one might about the benefits of length, there could be no denying that the long trip of Jacob's cock into his sister was providing both of them an obscene amount of pleasure. She cried out as his hips met hers each time; her cunt spread wide open, her insides pierced beyond any normal human limit.

Above them it seemed Claude's colossus had once again assumed the swollen proportions of no-escape. Frederick was facing him and with each ascent up his shaft, she stopped with a squeal of joy as his angry tip bumped against the inside of her pelvis, too large to escape.
His hands were on her hips and she was nothing but his toy.

"Is Mama your fuckdoll?" she growled in his mind. "What do you want to do with me, what's my bad boy going to do?"

In response, Claude worked her faster and faster on his shaft.

She was glowing -- truly. They all were. It was as if stage director had come in with footlights to illuminate them, but there was no such person. Some mysterious glow lit them from within and Frederique's face was radiant with lust and ecstasy as Claude slid her up and down his shaft to her first orgasm. She moaned loudly with joy as her body began to rock. Her entire cunt clamped down on him as she slapped and scratched at his back in a shuddering climax. Claude simply held her then, saving his reserves for a later time.

Below, Jackie was peering closely at Jacob's shaft. "Unbelievable," said Jackie, watching Jacob's long cock slide into his sister's translucent interior. Jackie had a look of half-envy and half-fear on her face.

Jacob plunged into Abby again and she rocked back to meet him. Before he had even finished his plunge she cried out. The ridges of his lovely cock had done the trick and Abby's legs locked up with sheer pleasure. She couldn't even stand and Jacob could only smile as she fell onto the platform and cried out with pleasure. The crowd respectfully watched her moan as she writhed upon the padded surface. The climax seemed to possess her, leaving her gasping in exhaustion.

Jacob laid back down on one of the raised cushions and shrank his cock back down to his usual size, knowing Aimée would be hard-pressed to take his hyper-tumescence into her body on first fuck.

Emulating Glennis, Aimée placed both of her feet on either side of Jacob's hips and then lowered her hips down to push Jacob's ophidian magnificence into her aching pussy.

Before, that first descent would have taken some time. In days past, it had sometimes taken her two or three minutes to inch her way down onto him. Now, her moist canal opened hungrily to accept him. Her eyes rolled with pleasure as her hips met his.

"Ready?" he whispered.

"More than ready," she moaned.

She sighed at the familiar fullness. It was like normal lovemaking but multiplied. She had always relished the delightful feeling of her lover becoming a part of her. With this way, it felt as if their flesh was doing something beyond meshing. Every inch of his massive cock was touching something inside of her.

"Now Jacob," said Aimée. "Make me invisible -- or better yet, clear."

It was no problem for Jacob to communicate his gift to her; they were as one. It was like the directions were sent directly from his cock, because that was the point where she began to disappear. From her belly outward she shimmered into a transparent being.

Suddenly it was as if Jacob was being ridden by one of Sean and Jessamine's water creations. Only a shimmering transparent outline of Aimée remained. But there, clearly inside of that outline, was a beautiful and massive cock.

"Can I please move?" gasped the ghost-like Aimée's lips. "I need to so badly."

"By all means," said Jacob.

The translucent figure of Aimée began raising herself up and then down again. The diaphanous lips of her pussy spread wide with each descent and pulled hungrily as she rose. She didn't even rise fully up at first, perhaps only riding half of the length with each bounce.

She began working longer strokes, though, and she was soon nearing the end of his cock. She squealed with disappointment when she rose too high and his cock slipped out of her and fell with a sticky 'thwack' onto Jacob's belly -- providing another illustration of its length.

Abby had recovered enough by then to reach out and take the monster into her tiny hands. Like a soldier raising a flag, she held it upright for Aimée to lower herself down.

Aimée seemed to understand and with a switch, her internal workings came into view. The onlookers were suddenly witness to a new-being anatomy lesson as Galen came close and pointed.

"You see," he said. "Her vagina is massively extended, stretching upward. Her internal organs have almost magically repositioned themselves to allow for space. The same thing happens when a woman is pregnant and makes way for the child, but that happens over months and it still isn't comfortable. Whatever changes they gained, they are almost mystical in nature."

Aimée felt the 'lesson' was over and gave up on turning herself any sort of invisible. She phased back into view and then begged Jacob.

"Please, can we fly," she sighed. "My legs are getting tired."

"Absolutely," he said with a smile.

Using the intimate connection with their mates, the two of them drew on the gifts available and ascended to the sky just as Frederique and Claude were returning to earth. Claude still had yet to release another blast which meant he had to will his cock back down, especially the tip, before he could leave Frederique's well-worked interior.

Always a student of human nature, Abby had been taking some of the time to observe the reactions of the people in the room. In the women, similar to Jackie's reaction, she detected overtones of both lust and fear. For the most part, they were salivating with each thrust of the long and delicious cocks, but they also were filled with trepidations about what one of those titans could do to their non-hybrid interiors. The men's thoughts were a mixture of envy and... perhaps something best described as inferiority feelings. She did her best to push out an aura that quelled those views.

She didn't have much time to dwell on it though, because Claude grabbed her hand and flew her to the skies.

Jacob was now lifting Aimée up and down his cock in the air, and below them Glennis continued riding Martin with indefatigable energy, her body shaking from a never-ending orgasm.

Claude lifted Abby up and put her feet against his shoulders, pulling her back down on his 'normal' cock.

"How is this going to work?" she asked in his head.

"Like this," he replied. "Push away from me."

Abby pushed away with her feet and smiled at being pulled back toward him. It was as though Claude had wrapped an invisible elastic band around them and with each push, the force pulled them back in with little effort.

"Now that's nice," she said.

"I thought you might like it," he said. "Much less tiring than what our athletic nymph Glennis has been doing."

"Agreed," said Abby. "Though she doesn't seem to get tired at all, not when it comes to sex."

Claude nodded and then pushed his redheaded lover away from his body. As he did, he expanded himself and gave her a larger target to descend upon. They were off.

Glennis, in truth, wasn't growing tired. She was impatient though, and needed Martin to fill her soon.

"Please Martin," she pleaded. "I need the rest of you. You've filled me with your cock, now I need your deliciousness. I need the energy your cum gives me."

"Soon," said Martin.

Frederique had left her post on the platform and decided to join their two 'new' mates.

"What's happening here," she purred. "Is this nasty young man teasing you, dear sister?"

"He is," complained Glennis. "He's holding back on me."

"I can go all night," said Martin.

"Oh can you now," said Frederique, slyly. "That sounds like a challenge."

"No, I wasn't saying..." started Martin.

"We know what you were saying," said Frederique. "And you should know better than to play with fire."

She got down on her hands and knees and bent over to watch her mates fucking from a closer angle. Of course, this also meant her perfect breasts were now dangling directly over Martin's face. He moaned and surrendered, accepting the delicious nipple Frederique offered to him. He kissed it tenderly, but couldn't help but notice the few drops dripping tantalizingly toward his tongue. Her milk dribbled into his mouth and his body tensed. Such sweetness could only stir on one thing.

Next she reached out and grasped his massive shaft. At first, she used one hand, and then two. Glennis, watching from above, began to only bounce on the upper third of his hyper-cock. This left both of Frederique's hands free to manipulate him as Glennis worked him faster and faster above, squeezing herself on his elongated tip. The two hands, the hungry pussy, and the milk pouring into his mouth -- that proved the end for Martin on that go-round. He stammered out a cry of joy as he released his first uncontrolled blast of the evening.

Glennis joined him with her own orgasm, his heat triggering an instinctive climax. Glennis tipped back her head and cried out in pure and stunning bliss as the cum-buzz hit her system. Soon, exhausted, she lowered her body down his length, letting the jism pour into her. As she rose slowly, Frederique leaned forward and licked hungrily at the fluids pouring out of her pink cunt down Martin's pole. This excited him even more and another load poured forth, practically flooding down his cock onto Frederique's waiting tongue. She licked as much as she could and then moved to the side.

Glennis finally dropped down and stretched out her legs on the floor for the first time since she had mounted Martin. She looked into his eyes sadly as she felt his manhood shrinking down again.

"Oh no. Goodbye," she whispered.

She pulled herself off of him and, like Jacob, his leviathan smacked down on his belly.

All of this had happened while Claude and Abby, and Aimée and Jacob had been completing their first full orgasms in the air. They landed beside their mates and Frederique looked to them for approval. They agreed and she turned to the audience.

"Thank you for being with us, our friends," she said. "There is an old Afflicted saying: 'there are few moments as intimate as those that are shared.' It has been a true delight to share our new 'gifts' with you. To conclude, we have one more thing we would like to show you."

Aimée stepped forward and spoke thoughtfully.

"As you may have noticed, there is a slight discrepancy in our number," she said. "There are four girls and three boys. I ask you; is that fair?"

The men in the audience roared their approval and the women booed playfully.

"In truth," said Aimée. "We have no problems with the dynamics of our lovely group. It has worked out very well. There is no jealousy and we don't expect there to be. I think I speak for all of us when I say the love we feel, each for the other, is indescribable. However, we did wonder about the parity of lovemaking and how we might work things out. Tonight, we would like to try something that has never been done."

So saying, Aimée and the other three women laid down in a plus-sign formation, their heads in the center. Claude went to Abby, Jacob went to Frederique, and Martin went to Glennis. Each boy laid between his partner's legs and slid his 'tumescence' into her hungry opening. Meanwhile, Aimée was without a partner.

"Ready?" asked Aimée in their minds.

She stayed, for the moment, alone and had a look of concentration on her face.

They all replied that they were.

The boys began to move. They were in unison, the reason for which was to be seen soon.

They pulled out as far as they could, then thrust in again, each partner's hips matching theirs to maximize the effect of their lovely appendages. After a rhythm was established, Aimée called out in their minds.

"Almost there," she called.

One.

The boys rocked their hips forward.

Two.

The boys mounted another thrust.

Three.

The change was so subtle, most of the people didn't even notice. It was Bullet who pointed it out first.

"That's impossible!" she cried.

"What?" asked Jackie.

"Look who is with who," said the fighting woman.

Claude was now making love to Glennis, Martin was with Abby, and Jacob was buried deep within Aimée.

One. Two. Three.

Now the crowd gasped because they had seen the lovers switch again. Now it was Abby who was alone.

One. Two. Three.

Glennis was solo.

Scaurus, who was standing with Bullet, leaned over and whispered in her ear.

"Now that looks like fun," he said in a sly tone.

"No it doesn't," said Bullet with awe in her voice. "It looks lethal. No deplaceur would ever try such a thing. It would be dangerous enough if you attempted to materialize so close to someone; chances are you'd just bounce somewhere else in the room. Look at them, though. The boys are materializing inside the women. I suppose you'd call that jump fucking, and it is something I would never try... ever."

That was exactly what was happening. After every three thrusts, each woman willed a change and another mate's outsized cock was inside of her. For the odd one out, the thrill of anticipation was almost as lovely.

That the Seven could do such a thing spoke of their amazing connection. The pace grew slower. They switched from every three thrusts to every five, and from there to every ten. Soon, they began to float. After reaching a ten-count, they stopped counting and simply switched when it felt like an organic moment, and they did not necessarily all switch at once.

The entire gym was quiet as everyone watched the beautiful coupling above them. Soon, fliers began to lift their friends so they could watch from the same level. The only sound in the room was the moans of the companions, and the swish and slap of their bodies together. The next orgasms arrived; Claude was in Glennis, Jacob in Aimée, and Martin in Frederique. The combined cries of their climaxes rippled through the building along with a wave of passion that was infectious. Frederique's shrieks, especially, were so erotic that any man who had dared to be soft was no longer so.

As she felt Martin's delicious seed fill her entirely, Frederique surrendered completely to her orgasm and fell back, trusting only to her instinctive flying ability to keep her aloft as his cock pumped load after load into places she didn't know existed. When she recovered, she looked around at the people watching her in awe.

"For god's sake, join us!" she cried. "You must want each other so badly it hurts. This is a liaisongangen. It's time for some liaisons! Take each other!"

She didn't need to tell them again. The fierce carnal atmosphere they had engendered in the sexual gymnasium needed to be released; released it was.






CHAPTER 20



That gathering would be forever divided into two sections in the memories of the participants. The first half, including the amazing gifts displayed in the sharing that culminated with the stunning display of the Seven; that first half was crystal clear in the minds of all who were there.

The second half... was very muddy. Liquor, lust, and cum flowed freely for the rest of the gathering and many people were hard pressed to remember what they did, or who they did it with for that matter.

There were a few events that stuck out, though.

Seiko sought out Frederique at one point and took the great lady by the hand, leading her to Palo who was exchanging war stories with several other fighters. Seiko took Palo's hand too and pulled the two of them aside.

"Once more, please," she pleaded. "I have heard tales of how lovely you two were together. Please let me see. It would be a great honor for me."

"Well, I don't know," stammered Palo.

"Palo," said Seiko. "This is your mate asking you to lie with the most beautiful and powerful woman on the planet. If you don't, I will always wonder what you were like together and it will drive me crazy. Please."

Frederique contemplated the lovely woman's request and she knew what the woman was asking for. It was actually more than that; this was for Palo. She and Palo had never had full closure. This was to be the closing event they had never had.

"Come on, Palo," Frederique said.

Frederique took Seiko's hand in hers and flew with her to one of the unoccupied nests, not even looking back to see if Palo was following. They landed and waited patiently until Palo appeared.

"Come here, my dear," she said, gesturing for him to come to her.

"I never thought I'd be saying this," said Palo. "But I'm sorry if I'm not as large as your partners."

"Oh hush," said Frederique, slapping his chest. "It doesn't work like that. Just wait and see."

She kissed him fiercely and any misgivings he had were soon erased. He kissed down her neck and to her nipples. He looked up with a smile as he got a sweet taste.

"I haven't tasted that in a while," he said.

"No, not since the children were little but we had fun with it, didn't we?"

"Oh yes," said Palo.

Frederique turned away from him and felt the familiar circle of his arms around her and sighed as his cock pressed against her ass and his hands caressed her full breasts. His muscular chest felt just as strong as she remembered. His rock hard cock nestled just as snugly against her ass.

"You always liked it like this," she purred. "Come on then, Palo. Once more."

She reached between her legs and pulled him to her. Any doubts he'd had were silenced by the tightness of her cunt wrapped around him. Any concerns about how he might adequately fill her were erased at her passionate moan as his stiffness filled her wonderfully.

"There you go," she whispered, turning over her shoulder to kiss him.

She moaned as his wonderful cock found its familiar way into her.

"How -- uh -- many -- mmph -- times -- ooh did we do this, my lover?" she purred "Decades together, three, four, five times a day? It was so lovely, every time."

"Oh -- yes!" grunted Palo. "Always beautiful. Always."

Frederique spun around on his cock -- a feat only possible with a flier. She was now facing him, her legs resting on his arms, his hands beneath her ass as he heaved her up and down on his cock. She kissed him fiercely as she fucked him with every ounce of intensity she could muster.

She squeezed down on him with muscles made more supple and strong by her transformation.

"What do you think Palo," she asked in a husky voice. "Do you think those boys with their massive cocks have stretched me out too far?"

"God no," moaned Palo. "You're amazing."

"And so are you," she panted.

They took to the air next and many of the things they did were not that different from the airborne endeavors Claude had seen them perform many months before above the Siren. This, however, was for a different audience. Seiko watched enrapt as the two lovers fell together in patterns perfected over many years.

"Palo, would you do something for me?" she begged.

She had felt him growing close.

"Yes. Anything."

"Would you cum in my mouth? I long to taste you once more."

"Oh yes," moaned Palo.

Her request was all it took to trigger his orgasm.

"Oh god, Frederique."

She quickly dropped to the floor of the nest and Palo followed. His blast sailed into her mouth and she savored the familiar flavor. More spilled down her neck and onto her heavenly tits. Palo roared out with pleasure as his balls emptied another load onto her.

"Well done, lover," she said.

She stood and looked down at herself. With her practiced move, she scooped the coating on her skin up and rolled it into a ball. Smiling warmly, she sent the pearlescent marble floating toward Seiko, who gave a coy smile and opened her mouth to receive it.

"Thank you," she mouthed.

Frederique simply nodded and smiled. She flew away and didn't need to look back to know that Seiko was already in Palo's arms, enflamed by what she had witnessed.

* * * *

Another event that evening was unforgettable. Martin had been making the rounds with the girls... well, with one of the girls at a time. He would be kissing one of them and 'pop' another one would appear in his arms. Most recently, he had been taking Abby over the back of a couch when 'whoosh' she was gone and it was now Glennis enveloping his cock.
"Well don't stop," she had chastised him. "Abby certainly wouldn't approve of you slowing down. Now, fuck me senseless."

He did -- as Glennis ordered him -- fucked her senseless. She climaxed loudly, but just as he felt himself nearing the edge she held him back.

"Oh Martin," she moaned. "I know your supply is nearly endless, but hold back for a little while. I think I may have a job for you."

She took him by the hand and they walked down a less-traveled corridor which seemed to be where some spare guest quarters had been built.

The corridor was deserted, save one lone figure who sat in a great overstuffed armchair. It was Monshellen, Glennis's egg mother. She was still naked from the sharing, and her body was slender and beautiful.

"Hello mother," said Glennis warmly.

"Hello dear," she said.

"Why all alone on such a night as this?"

"Oh, not too alone," said the elegant woman. "Loenshellen and Sheireh are in there."

"Why aren't you with them?" asked Glennis. "Aren't they your mates?"

"No," said Monshellen. "We are partners. They are mates. My husband died in our crossing from the great continent to Wales. I have been without a mate for all of these years, my only role was being keeper of the last viable egg."

They sat in awkward silence for a little while. The sounds of lovemaking that was far from staid drifted through the door.

"It's interesting," said Monshellen. "We have been a mostly sexless race for so many years. It is hard to describe, but with no hope of children we also lost the desire in the act that makes them. It wasn't always so. Our times in the first valley were not unlike what is happening here this evening. Harvest festivals, midwinter's eve, engagement celebrations; it was common and even expected that we would lie with many people on such evenings. I hadn't even thought of those times until earlier this evening when Galen and the others cured us. Suddenly my mind was racing with licentious fantasies."

"That makes sense," said Glennis.

"I wonder how much of it is biological," mused Martin. "I know my body has awoken in strange ways since I've been transformed."

"You know, mother," said Glennis after a pause. "Galen's theory is that there is no chance of an Elder becoming pregnant by one who is not of her own kind."

"True," said Monshellen, not picking up on Glennis's train of thought.

"Soon you will return to the new valley. You will rejoin your kind and you will likely choose a new mate with whom you will have children."

"True. I hope so, at least."

"But for tonight," continued Glennis. "You have scores of men with whom you could lay for fun and fun alone."

"Oh!" said Monshellen, finally understanding Glennis. "I suppose you are right. But I would be too shy. I could never."

"But you could," said Glennis. "Right now."

She took her egg-mother's hand and led her into the next unoccupied bedroom. Martin watched her, confused, until she nodded with her head for him to follow.

The sheets were smooth and cool. Monshellen crawled into the middle and Glennis slipped in beside her. Martin slipped in on the other side and looked over at the two women. His skin against Monshellen's seemed to almost spark with anticipation.

"Come on, beloved," Glennis said to Martin. "My mother needs this."

Monshellen's heart raced in anticipation as Martin moved above her. She kissed him tenderly and sighed as her body arched to meet his.

"Thank you, my daughter," she said.

"It makes me so happy to do this," said Glennis.

"I'm worried, though," said Monshellen. "It's been since before the time of the Romans that I knew a man in this way. I'm especially nervous after what I witnessed in the gym."

"Have no fear," said Martin with a smile. "It will only be as much as you want."

She moaned upon feeling him press against her. Her tender flower opened for him easily enough and she cried out as he pushed further into her.

"Hurt?" he said with concern.

"Gods no," she moaned. "It's so good. So good. Please, come further in."

Her hands clawed at the sheets as he inserted himself further. When he pushed fully into her, she arched her back and clasped him to her desperately.

"Are you, you know?" he whispered.

"I'm afraid so," she said.

Her body was so surprised by the renewed feel of a man that the simple entrance of him had given her a small orgasm.

She recovered and looked up at him with a smile.

"There. I'm ready. How does this go again?"

"I'll help you remember," growled Martin.

Martin slid out of her and back in, sending more waves of pleasure through her system.

"Indeed you are very helpful, mechanic," she said. "I believe my memory of how to do this is returning."

Their bodies moved together very well and she submitted to another orgasm before long. Martin couldn't help but grin as the lovely blond woman shook with spasms of pleasure for the second time in a few minutes.

"Let's try it like this," she said when she was ready again.

She lifted up her legs and pulled them back to her breasts, opening herself wider for his thrusts.

"Do you want more?" he asked.

"No, you're doing fine," she moaned.

"No, not more sex -- more, you know, of me?" said Martin.

"Oh, I forgot," she giggled. "Yes. Perhaps just a little bit. Can you?"

"Of course," said Martin. "How much."

He focused on his cock and let it slowly grow. He knew before she did, feeling his tip start to push against the back of her pussy.

"There?" he said.

"Mm hmm,' she nodded.

Martin raised up on his knees, allowing him a better angle to descend down into her.

All the while Glennis watched. She watched her mate with adoration in her eyes, marveling at the pleasure he was bringing this woman from whom she was descended. Her hand stroked Monshellen's hair as Martin pounded into her. The fair, ancient woman began squealing out with pleasure on every down stroke.

"So good, so good," she kept repeating. "I'd forgotten it was so good."

"Oh! OHH!" she finally cried.

She turned to Glennis, a helpless look of pleasure on her face.

"Now?" asked Glennis.

Monshellen could only nod.

"Now Martin" said Glennis.

Martin cut loose the flood gates. His cum lashed the walls of Monshellen's pussy like a milky storm and the woman's cries rose in volume. His own orgasm gripped his body and he fell upon her, but she still kept her legs in the air, reveling at his deep cock inside of her, filling her to overflowing.

At last, Martin pulled out and fell down beside her.

"Thank you," she said tenderly. "I waited two thousand years for that, and it was worth it."

"I need to sleep," said Martin.

He collapsed in post-coital exhaustion, his head cradled on the fair woman's breast, Glennis caressing his cheek.

* * * *

Frederique was making the rounds. Besides Palo and her mates, she had not partnered with anyone else. Those gathered were treating her with a formal reverence, but she had many lovely conversations and witnessed countless wonderful couplings that had her thirsting for her new mates.

She wandered into a sitting room and found a young male cadet coupling with a beautiful black woman of Amazonian stature. Frederique sat in a chair in the corner to watch. She quickly realized that the woman was actually Cora, who had shifted to satisfy this boy's need. Their moans of pleasure grew in volume, but Frederique sensed that Cora's were the well-practiced sounds of someone who knew how to convince lovers that she was enjoying it as much as they were.

"You are amazing," gasped the cadet when he spilled into her at the end.

"So are you, my stud," she purred as they kissed one final time. Cora hadn't noticed Frederique sitting in the shadows and once the boy left, she reverted to her own form and brushed tears from her cheeks.

"Don't change," said Frederique softly.

"Oh!" said Cora in surprise. "Hello, great lady. I didn't know you were here. What did you say?"

"I said, 'don't change'," said Frederique. "Just because you have the gift, doesn't mean you have to use it."

"Oh, but I do," said Cora. "As soon as I kiss them, I feel my body shifting and I... I have to."

"But it makes you sad, Cora," said Frederique. "You must learn to fight it. You are already a stunning, intelligent woman. All of your life, you've survived by pleasing men; by giving them what they want. Now is your chance to escape that. I can show you how, especially with Abby's help. We can show you how to resist it. You are Afflicted now, Cora. Our kind does not go hungry. The Council fund provides you with ample funds to live independently. Do not sell your body any more, my dear. Use your gifts for fun, but not for gain and not out of this desperate need to please someone."

Cora wept some more.

"It started when I was... well, I was young. My mother was widowed and married out of necessity. When I saw my stepfather lusting for me, I was afraid that he might leave us if I didn't... if I didn't..."

"I know," said Frederique. "And one thing led to another, you were good at it, and here we are now. Take this chance, Cora. Seize it and make the most of it."

"I... I'll try," said Cora.

"Good," said Frederique. "Now, come with me."

She led Cora to the hallway and as the two women walked they passed a handsome group of three young men on the prowl. Frederique's consciousness flitted through their minds and she saw that the he one on the left, a handsome young German, was enthralled with Cora exactly as she looked.

She snagged the young man by the hand and presented him to Cora.

"Here's one who wants exactly what you have to offer. What you have to offer, if you catch my drift."

"I do," said Cora, snuggling up to the young man. "Thank you, Frederique."

"I'll be in touch to check on you," said Frederique. "Remember what I said. Now, I have a young man of my own to attend to."

* * * *

Martin awoke less than half an hour later. Glennis and Monshellen had crept out while he slept. He was lying on his back... but he wasn't alone. Someone was beneath the covers and her tender, full lips were wrapped around his cock, willing it easily back to life.

"Frederique?" he asked.

He didn't need to ask, her touch was unmistakable.

"Yes, it's me," she said, throwing off the covers. "Now come to me, Martin. I need you terribly."

He didn't need to be asked twice. She crawled up on top of him and pushed his cock into her.

His cock knew its home and expanded willingly to fill her.

"No need to go slow," she purred. "I want this, and I want it now."

She rode him with a sense of purpose.

"Fuck me, Martin," she purred. "Fuck me with that big cock. I need you so badly; I can't even put it into words. Now fuck me and fill me so full it feels like it's coming out of every part of me."

There was something in her words and her touch that made her intention very clear. She wished for him to hold nothing back and when Frederique wished for such a thing, it couldn't be denied. She did not lift off of him now, but slid up and down his body, her breasts gliding across his chest. She kept this up, working his cock with her hips and pulling him into her with her hungry cunt.

"Almost there," she growled. "Almost there, my Martin. Will you cum with me? Will you?"

"Yes, my love," groaned the clockmaker.

"Now?!" she cried.

"Yes!" he moaned.

"Oh god, please," she uttered.

She crushed her mouth against his and kissed him intently as she felt his heat spray into her.

"More," she moaned into his ear. "More. As much as you can give me."

Martin cut loose with every reserve in his body. It had already been a 'draining' night, but he held nothing back as he emptied what felt like his very soul into her warmth.

Tears splashed onto his face.

"That's perfect, my handsome clockmaker," she wept. "Stay here. Stay inside of me and we'll sleep. We're both tired."

They did just that. Martin wasn't sure how long they slept, but he did know when he awoke. There was the familiar gentle pop and the body on top of him had changed. He had remained hard and a tight pussy was still wrapped around him.

"You're so wet," Aimée's voice whispered to him in the darkness. "That's delicious. Nothing like cum to serve has a lubricant. How much more do you have?"

"I'll make love to you," said Martin. "But I'm not making any promises about how much I'll cum until I get some more to drink."

* * * *

Jacob had spent more time with Abby that evening than he had anticipated. It wasn't a complaint; it had just been something of a surprise. The seven had divided into groups of two, with Frederique going on her own rounds, reacquainting herself with countless old friends. Of course, a different girl might pop in at any moment to be with him, but a large portion of his time had been with his beautiful sister.

They had certainly made love enough. By his count, he had spent his seed in each of his mates at least twice (after the sharing), but with Abby it had to be three or four. Their last session had been in the middle of an orgy. They had walked past a room filled with naked bodies in every position imaginable. Not wishing to disturb the proceedings with their celebrity, they had turned fully invisible before entering the room. It was there, unseen, they took each other in the midst of at least twenty others who were fucking on the floor, on sofas, or even in the air. The energy in the room had spurred Jacob on and his eruption had been particularly intense. They had snuck back out of the room and walked to a kitchen in search of liquid replenishments. As they walked, Jacob looked down to see streaks of white on the inside of her legs.

"Do you need a cloth?" he asked.

"Oh no, I love it," she said in a lusty tone. "I love it. I love the feel of you dripping down there. It is such a tasty reminder."

They practically poured pitchers of water and fresh juice down their throats to replenish their resilient systems.

They wandered back into the gym and found Sean and Jessamine languishing in the pool, obviously resting between sessions. Sean sat in the water and Jessie floated about, using Sean's stiff rod as an anchor that she held on to while luxuriating. Abby went to the pool and sat on the edge, dipping her feet into the water. Jacob followed suit.

Jacob wasn't jealous, but almost amused at the way Sean's eyes lingered on Abby's curvaceous body. He couldn't fault the man. Nor could Jacob deny that his eyes were drawn inexorably toward Jessamine whose breasts floated temptingly in the water.

"So what's your story again?" asked Jacob of Sean. "How do you know Abby?"

"I was one of her daily rations," said Sean with a grin. "Since I was without a mate, Brana asked if I might be willing to volunteer for duty. I tried to avoid it, but duty is duty and I felt I owed it to my kind to service a pathetic little blind girl."

"I should remind you," said Abby with a playful edge in her voice, "that with my gifts you could wake up tomorrow thinking you are a squirrel or an otter. Jessie here would find it a shame to have her mate running away from the 'terrible human'."

"Point taken," said Sean with a grin. "The truth -- I experienced the most delightful night with Abby that I had spent since losing my mate, or until finding Jessie."

"That's better," said Abby. "Now Jessie, as I understand it, you were in difficult straits before Frederique found you."

"Oh yes," said Jessamine. "I can say for certain that I would not have lived out the year if she hadn't found me. Like an angel, she found me. Within the day I was cured of syphilis, I was Afflicted, and given the honor of servicing our two young stallions of legend."

"Did she service you well?" asked Abby, looking at Jacob with a wry grin.

"Wonderfully," said Jacob, without hesitation. "However, I would have to qualify that by pointing out how possessed I was with mating lust. She could have just lain there, and as long as she was Afflicted my body would have been thrilled."

"But I didn't just lie there, did I?" asked Jessamine.

"No, you absolutely didn't," said Jacob.

"Alright, that's it," said Abby. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" asked Jacob.

"Why, underwater, of course. I've always wondered about a second time with Sean, and I can tell you are just aching to sample Jessamine's wares again."

Sean and Jessamine looked at her in disbelief.

"But, you are the seven," said Sean. "You're new, different."

"We're still made the same," said Abby. "Besides, no cross-mating, as Galen has pointed out. No risk there, so let's just have fun."

The four met in the center of the pool which was shoulder deep. Abby wrapped herself around Sean and kissed him intensely.

"Shall we?" he asked.

"Absolutely," she agreed.

Resuming their kiss, Sean fell backward and they sank to the bottom.

"Can you do that, too" asked Jacob.

"Oh yes," said Jessamine. "But I can do Sean one better. He has to kiss to help his partner's breathe. As Madame Villepreux-Power puts it, I can transfer oxygen through different membranes."

"How?" asked Jacob.

"I honestly don't know. She and Pasteur were fascinated by it, and I even took Pasteur down below. We fucked under water for ten minutes and he never needed to take a breath. They had a very complicated scientific explanation that I still don't' quite understand, but I'll learn the details later."

"Alright then, how does this work?"

To reply, Jessamine jumped easily in the water to wrap her hips around Jacob's. She settled down upon his 'normal' length and sighed.

"Now that feels familiar," she moaned. "Get ready. When we go under, just remember not to breathe. You'll have the instinct at first, but if you just wait it out, you'll be fine."

They also sank down. Looking over, they could see Abby riding in water-imposed slow motion upon Sean.

Jacob was met with a couple of surprises. One, they didn't sink all the way to the bottom. Jessie seemed to possess something of a flying ability below the water. With her affinity for the substance, it made sense in a way. Like a fish, she could probably control her depth without even thinking about it.

The other surprise was the feeling of his cock inside of her. Jacob had certainly spent his share of time making love in the water and there was always a difference in the texture of making love. The water seemed to strip away a woman's natural lubrication and made for a less slick feeling. Usually, this made for a rougher, more rubbery friction as opposed to the usual slickness. Jessie wasn't that way though. He found himself sliding in and out of her with the same ease as he might have with a very well lubricated woman in a normal situation. He could only guess that her body had naturally adapted to her favorite environment and was providing the perfect lubricant.

Like she had warned, Jacob felt the urge to breathe and fought through it. It was difficult, but she touched his face reassuringly and just as quickly, it passed. He didn't worry about breathing for the rest of his time with her.

He started pumping into her and her eyes went half-lidded with pleasure. She was naturally very deep and had always taken him in easily, so he thought he might put the question to her.

"Do you want more?" he asked in her mind.

She immediately understood his meaning and nodded with a smile. It seemed she couldn't reply in like fashion, but held up her fingers to indicate an inch or so. Jacob expanded himself and as he did, she pinched her fingers together and finally smiled and nodded to let him know it was perfect.

They floated there, perhaps a foot or so below the surface of the water and made love in aquatic redolence. They exchanged smiles with Abby and Sean from time to time, and the intensity between the two couples grew over the next few minutes.
Sean was the first to pop. Abby pulled off him and floated down to hover above the tip of his cock. As silky strands floated up from his cock, she sucked in and drank his lovely mix of water and semen.

They surfaced while Jacob continued to fuck Jessamine down below. Looking up, they could see the shimmering, blurry images of their mates; the waves they were creating obscuring the view.

Jacob was prepared to continue making love for some time to come, but he was interrupted suddenly.

"Jacob, I need you," said Frederique's voice in his head.

There was a certain emphasis on the word 'need' that left no doubt as to her meeting.

"One minute," said Jacob.

"Very well, but hurry."

Jacob began longer thrusts and let Jessie know with his eyes that he was coming. She nodded and urged him on. His cock emptied several bursts of his usual load. Below the water, tiny ribbons drifted out from where his cock met her moist labia. He allowed himself no more than four bursts, knowing he would soon be called upon. Before rising, he gave one final kiss to Jessamine and then left her. His cock escaped her with little fanfare; not much more cum floated away. She remained below, smiling at him through the water -- a mermaid if ever there was one. Before emerging, Jacob opened his mouth wide and took a huge drought of the clear water, replenishing his system.

"Frederique is looking for you," said Abby.

"I know," he said.

"Here," said Sean.

Sean touched Jacob's skin and the water shot away from him, leaving even his hair dry.

"Thanks," said Jacob.

"That was lovely, Sean," said Abby. "Now, I think Claude is missing me."

She winked out. Ever since their 'jump-fucking' as Bullet had so aptly called it, they had all found that a jump to each other was getting easier each time.

Jacob reached out with his mind and found Frederique. She was standing alone in a luxurious bedroom somewhere in the north part of the mansion. Thinking he might have a bit of fun, he shimmered out of view, then he 'slid' into the room where she was waiting as quietly as possible. She didn't seem to notice his presence and stood playing idly with the bedcovers as he snuck toward her.

His love for his mates was complex. Abby was his prime, but when faced with only one of his female companions, he found her to be the most divine creature in the world.

This was certainly the case with Frederique at that moment. Her hair was tousled and her body exuded the familiar glow as well as the blush of recent passion. Her tongue danced absent-mindedly across her full lips. Her other lips were also full; her pussy was gently enflamed between her legs and the tempting pinkness beckoned to Jacob.

He watched her for at least a minute, stunned by her beauty and also contemplating how he might take her.

Should he attack? Pin her down and ravish her? Of course, that could only happen if she wished it. Even if she didn't have the new gift of deplacing, there wasn't a man in the universe capable of forcing her to do anything.

Should he kiss her? Let her find an invisible lover?

She shifted positions and her new stance inspired his plan.

She had taken a wide warrior's (or dancer's) stance and kept waiting patiently for the lover who she had beckoned.

Jacob's cock, which had been hanging half-full, now filled again to his standard proportions. The sight of her, though, made his hungry demon start to ascend even further.

Wait a minute big boy, he thought to his cock. We should try something new.

He padded silently up behind Frederique and bent his knees a bit.

With his long slender cock, he had often found he could work it into a bit of a curve but since his new discovery; he hadn't toyed with such angles. Hard was hard, and that had been his perpetual state whenever aroused since mating.

Now he chose to concentrate on his proud member and see if the same manipulations he had been learning with size and length might also apply to shape.

Interestingly, Jacob was always able to see himself. Though he knew when he was completely invisible to others, his eyes always saw a shimmering outline of himself.

Crouching behind Frederique, he focused on the outline of his cock and willed it forward. It stretched out and stuck horizontally between her legs.

Now curve, thought Jacob. Curve for me, straight up.

He had to suppress a noise of excitement as he saw his rod began to curve.

That's it. Perfect. Now you know where you're going.

His cock stretched and curved upward and Frederique jumped a bit upon feeling Jacob's hot tip pressing into her.

"Oh," she said. "Hello there. I was wondering when you would show up. Come on in, won't you?"

Frederique arched her hips backward to allow him better entrance. Still, though, he kept the curve in his cock and began sawing in and out smooth strokes. The invisible Jacob kissed Frederique's neck as he pushed deeper and deeper into her.

"Did you know I was there?" he asked.

"Of course," she purred. "But I wanted to see what you would do. I like what you came up with."

"Do you now? You like the 'up' part?" he asked.

To emphasize the word, he shoved even further and she yelped out with pleasure as his cock filled her.

"Ooh, I like this," she moaned. "How about we stay here, just like this?"

She rose up then, levitating herself and spreading her legs even wider. Though she was facing away from him, Jacob had no complaints. It afforded him a view of her beautiful back. In different ways, she was almost as stunning when viewed from behind. Her legs were so lovely and her ass was perfectly rounded. The small of her back and her narrow waist tapered from there and up to her feminine yet strong shoulders. Her breasts, so large and buoyant, were two half-moons (or at least quarter-moons) peering out from either side of her chest when she lifted her hands to run her fingers through her hair -- which she loved doing in this position.

Under her own power, she slithered up his massive rod, floating up to the very top and then reversing course. With this new angle, he allowed his member to straighten and began gliding even further in.

Jacob felt that something was different. Her inside was wetter, or smoother than he remembered. He wondered if he was simply noticing the difference between Jessamine's unique lubrication and his other mates, but he wasn't sure if that was it. He also knew what he was feeling wasn't the remnants of cum. With their recent adventures, he certainly knew that sensation -- and this wasn't it.

"Is anything wrong?" she asked, peering with her perfect eyes back over her shoulder.

"Oh no, nothing," said Jacob. "You just feel so good."

"I'm glad," she purred.

Frederique shrugged and turned around again, concentrating on the lovely ride she was about to begin. She started slowly, working his great length with long strokes, but then she picked up the pace. She was a flier, one of the greatest in the world. She took advantage of that skill as she began bouncing up and down Jacob's extended cock in faster and faster motions. Soon, she was nothing but a blur enveloping his shaft, possibly moving faster than he could have moved under his own power. Such delicious friction couldn't be resisted for long and Frederique began to cry out as her orgasm began.

"Oh Jacob," she shrieked, suddenly slowing her pace.

She pulled her legs in and moaned as her body shuddered. She moved almost into a fetal position, her arms resting on her legs as she stayed hanging on the air, impaled on his fleshy stake.

"Keep going if you would," she stammered. "But if you could do the work; it's all I can do to keep myself up in the air."

Jacob nodded and reached up to take her hips. The entire time, he had scarcely touched her, but now he grabbed her hips and pulled her to him, forcing her weightless body down on his cock and tipping her climax even further down the slope of bliss.

"That's it, my Jacob," she stammered between ecstatic shudders.

Her cunt locked down on him and seemed to be doing its own pulling, tugging him inward, sucking him forward.

He'd had enough of the view of her gorgeous back and spun her around on his shaft so he could see her face which was lost in a mask of delight. She pushed out her legs to rest against his chest and then wrapped her arms around his neck.

"This is so good," she cried. "So beautiful."

Jacob had had enough of standing and he flew them gently up. He spun their bodies gently from vertical to horizontal and then laid them down, side by side.

She cradled his face in her hands and kissed him softly.

"Will you cum for me Jacob?" she whispered. "Will you?"

"Of course," he replied.

To urge him on, she squeezed him again. Her silky sheath seemed to be increasing its skill by the day, because the pink wetness wrapped around him seemed to be working him like another set of hands. Jacob moaned with pleasure as her interior massaged his cock.

"Work with me," she pleaded.

He knew just what she meant. Lying on their sides, movement wasn't as easy, but they had other ways. He willed his cock to retreat and then grow again; her tight muscles reacted to every change and complimented it with perfect wet friction. His cock was the piston and her cunt was the fleshy cylinder. Their 'engine' was generating an increasingly combustive supply of lustful energy.

"That's the way, my Jacob," she moaned. "Let me make you cum. Will you? Will you cum for me and give me every drop you can find?"

He groaned and could only answer by doing exactly as she wished. His cock shot a huge load and also expanded upward into her.

"Smaller," she said urgently. "Make it smaller. I want more room for your cum."

Barely conscious, Jacob somehow complied and pulled his cock back. Yet, Frederique didn't close back around him. Within, her stretched pussy stayed open and she gasped as she felt blast after blast of his cum pooling into the cavity remaining. Even Jacob felt it; his long slender tool was soon bathed in cum within her. She did something then, reaching into his body and giving an indefinable squeeze which triggered further blasts that Jacob wouldn't have believed possible.

"That's it, my Jacob. All of it. Give me all of it."

Jacob exhausted anything left within him and started to pull out.

"Oh stay," she moaned. "Stay for as long as you can."

"I will," moaned Jacob. "I'll do anything you want."

His lids were growing heavy and he surrendered to sleep, his cock buried in Frederique, soaked in his own seed.

Like Martin earlier, Jacob woke up uncertain of his surroundings. Something was waking him though.

"Jacob," said a lovely voice. "Jacob, wake up!"

Jacob opened his eyes and peered at the ornate clock on the wall. It had been less than half an hour, but it felt like days since he'd fallen asleep.

"Jacob!"

"What is it Glennis," he moaned.

She slid on top of him and kissed him fiercely.

"I need you awake," she pouted.

She massaged his softened member.

"All of you," she insisted. "I need all of you awake."

She slipped down under the covers and kissed him to firmness.

"There we go," she said. "That's just what I needed."

She climbed back up to sit astride him and reached down to play with his cock behind her.

"Remember Claude and Abby in the bathing pool?" she said.

"Yes," he murmured.

"People do it here, too," she said.

She pushed his cock back against her ass to illustrate.

"Oh," said Jacob. "Yeah, they do."

"Have you ever done it here?"

"Umm, a few times."

"Well I haven't," she said in a determined tone. "And I want to do it every way possible. Let's go."

Without any fanfare, she pushed the tip of his cock firmly against her brown bud. Pushing down, she grimaced as her sphincter resisted.

"Almost... almost.. there!" she said as her ass opened up to take him in.

"Well, that's different," she exclaimed. "Let's try this. Let's see how much of you we can fit into me this way."

* * * *

Claude found himself alone for the first time in weeks. 'Alone' was a relative term; he was surrounded by many members of the Afflicted, but this was his first time without one of his mates since they had merged.

Claude thought back over the events since the sharing and his cheeks glowed with revisiting them: Abby in the gym; Glennis in the gym; Aimée in the corridor; Aimée in the lounge; Aimée in the safe room; Frederique in the library; and then Glennis again... he had a hard time remembering where.

"Hello there, hero," said a familiar English voice.

It was Brolly. He was curled up in a lounge chair with a jumper whose name escaped Claude at the time.

"Oh, hello, Brolly," said Claude. "It's been a wild night, hasn't it?"

Brolly laughed heartily.

"Night," he said. "You're the second bloke who's said that. Nights, plural. We've been down here in this lovely Xanadu for two and a half days now. That's the advantage of not having the sun interfering, you don't know what day is what."

"Two and a half days? Really?" said Claude, amazed.

His mind revisited the same sessions he had just been thinking of. There had been marathon sessions, and besides, the sharing must have taken a good portion of the first night all on its own.

"I wonder why I'm not more tired," said Claude.

"It works that way, doesn't it?" said Brolly. "Especially with the old Hampton Wick involved, yeah? Nothing like having four ladies keeping you going. It catches up though. I'd imagine even with your kind, you'll be taking a full-day nap once this is done. But ever onward, young hero, ever onward."

Claude continued wandering said hello to several friends from the Academy and then went to the kitchen for a snack and a much-needed drink. He was just refilling his glass when a tall blond woman walked in.

"Brana!" he said in surprise.

They hugged warmly and took each other in. With Brana, always efficient and busy, there was much more than met the eye. Unclothed, she was surprisingly slender but with breasts larger than her shape seemed to justify.

"Where are your beautiful mates?" asked Brana.

"Oh, around," said Claude. "Some are busy, some are just resting."

"Yes, busy," said Brana in a dry tone. "There are a lot of busy people around here."

"Haven't you been busy?" asked Claude.

Brana blushed a little, but just a little, and her eyes met Claude's proudly.

"Yes, young Claude," she said. "I have enjoyed more than my share of busy-ness. In fact, I just busied two young men into exhausted slumbers."

"I see," said Claude with a raised eye brow. "And you don't' have a mate yet?"

"Not yet," she said. "The dorms are a full-time job, as you well know. I don't have time for much else. Usually it is an unmated person who takes on the duties and we do so for five years. I have two years left. After that, I'll be ready to pair up again."

"I see," said Claude.

They remained in the kitchen for a few minutes, chatting about where various cadets had ended up, lamenting those they had lost, and reminiscing in general. "Well," said Claude, as the conversation wound down. "I think I'll take another tour around, see who I might find."

"Very well, Claude," said Brana. There was a hint of disappointment in her voice. "It was wonderful talking to you. I hope to spend more time with you and your mates in the future."

"Me too," said Claude.

"Take her," said Abby's voice in his mind.

"Pardon?"

"Just take her, she's exquisite," said Abby. "I fully approve."

"Me too," said Frederique's voice in his head. "Enjoy her and then come to me."

Claude considered the situation. When two of your mates pretty much ordered you, there wasn't much room for argument.

"You know, Brana," said Claude, stopping by the door.

"Yes?" she said, looking up expectantly.

"I was thinking, perhaps we could find a bedroom."

Her eyes flashed with excitement.

"Why wait?" she said. "I'm sure we can work something out here."

A few seconds later he was throwing her up on the counter. His cock was the perfect height and her legs were wrapped around his ass.

He didn't even bother with asking if she wanted a different size. Once his cock was in, he naturally adjusted to the perfect length for her and she moaned as her hips began rocking with his thrusts.

They could have flown, they could have dropped to the floor, they could have done a thousand other things, but there was something that was sheer perfection in that moment with that position. Brana was able to wrap herself around Claude entirely. The counter and his adjusted proportions gave him the perfect angle. From fast to slow, from playful to intense, they fucked each other in that exact position for the next ten minutes. By the time she was ready to cum, he was too.

"Do it," she growled. "Do it for me, Claude! Fill me with that beautiful cum."

Claude did just that. She held his face in her hands and stared intensely into his eyes as he practically cauterized her interior with his hot spunk.

"Oh yes, Claude. That's so wonderful. And so much. Oh god!"

When he finished, the two of them were breathing heavily and kissed some more as their hearts stopped pounding. Claude remained buried inside of her and showed no signs of softening.

"Wow," she said softly. "Can I ask, Claude; did you give me everything? Did you give me all of your cum?"

Claude looked a bit embarrassed. "No, I'm sorry," he said. "I have a... an appointment shortly."

"Don't apologize!" she said, laughing. "You practically had it spraying out of my ears and you were holding back? How amazing you are."

She looked to the skies, addressing his absent mates. "Thank you, ladies."

To her surprise, four voices sounded in her head.

"You're welcome."

After a couple more minutes, Claude slowly removed himself and kissed her a final time.

"Thank you, Claude," she said.

He winked out and was gone. She blushed from the memory and wondered if she would be so bold as to boast that she had slept with one of the Seven -- or simply keep the fact to herself. She decided on the latter. The act was reward enough.

Claude deplaced to where Frederique was waiting. It was the guest bedroom of the mansion. In Afflicted homes, the guest bedroom was often the most finely appointed sleeping quarters, and this was no exception. The bed was huge, beyond king-sized, and the sheets were made from the finest cotton on the finest looms known. In the center of the bed, Frederique waited.

She looked as if she had spent a few hours making herself beautiful. In fact, she had simply taken a shower and then spent a few minutes doing wind-work with her hair, swirling it up and dry with her gift and letting her natural curls fall as they would.

Regardless of the amount of effort she had put in, the results were magnificent. The glow was even stronger now. Her face truly seemed to be lit by some ethereal light and Claude could only stand in stunned admiration at the vision lying before him.

"I've been waiting," she said in a low voice. "Come to me, my son."

He crawled into the bed and kissed her gently.

"Let there be no rush," she said. "I want this time to be beautiful and perfect. Let's take all the time we need."

* * * *

Outside, it was evening. Abby had deplaced to their first group hideout, the empty floor above the dry goods store. She waited patiently for the others to finish and called to them.

"Please, my dears," she called. "I wish you could join me."

Glennis, Martin, Aimée, and Jacob appeared.
"Where are Mother and Claude?" asked Aimée. "Oh..."

She had reached out and sensed their situation.

"Well, they will certainly be a little while," she said.

"They can join us later," said Abby.

"Aren't you cold?" asked Glennis.

"Oh, yes," said Abby. "I suppose I am - here."

With casual off-handed gesture, a large bed suddenly appeared in the room as well as a stack of blankets and robes. She also retrieved some heavy black velvet curtains and rods. She had found all of the items lying in a storehouse nearby.

"Martin dear," she said. "Would you please cover the windows?"

Martin nodded and the curtains went sailing toward the windows. He easily affixed the rods to the existing windows and the curtains were soon covering the panes against the sun which would come in an hour or so.

"Come, let's get comfortable," said Abby softly.

They all joined each other in the bed, donning robes or snuggling beneath the covers. Abby sat beside Martin and took his hand in hers, but she was clearly preoccupied and met none of their eyes.

"I'm so tired," she whispered.

"It's been a busy few days," said Jacob.

"No brother," she whispered. "I'm not tired that way. I'm weary."

"Weary from what?" asked Glennis.

"I...I can't find the words," said Abby. "Sleep with me, will you? We'll talk more when the other two join us."

They all felt an overwhelming drowsiness enveloping them. Within moments, they were drifting off. Abby's head was cradled on Martin's; his arm was draped across Aimée's leg. Jacob's head was pillowed on Aimée's belly, and Glennis was snuggled between both of them. They fell in to a deep, insistent slumber brought on by three days of intense sexual activity and months of intense emotions.

* * * *

Back in the opulent bedroom, Frederique was laying atop Claude. Her arms were touching his and her shapely legs were across his muscular ones. Every part of her body that could touch his, was, as she kissed him tenderly.

"I want to devour you," she murmured between kisses. "I want to kiss and touch and know every part of you."

"So do I, ma mère," he whispered in return. "You feel amazing, mother."

"So you'll call me mother now?" she muttered into his ear as she nibbled his lobe. "You'll acknowledge who I am?"

"I will," he said with a groan as her tongue darted into his ear. "But it won't always be that way. Sometimes you'll be mother, sometimes you'll be Frederique -- and others you'll be my whore."

"I can be all of those, my mate and son," she purred.

She shifted her body to lift her breasts to his lips. He teased her lovingly for several minutes before taking her left nipple further into his mouth and pulling more insistently. As the sweetness spilled over his tongue and he felt the stunning energy it always supplied she gazed into his eyes with love and affection.

Nothing needed to be said. She had once pointed out that he'd been 'there' twenty years before. Now, however, he was a man, and her mate.

"Has this happened before?" asked Claude after finishing a long drink. "Have other parents mated with their children?"

"That I know of? Let me think," said Frederique. "I know that with awakening, it would probably be impossible to count the number of mothers who helped their sons like I did for you on the Siren. Our situation was particularly isolated, but to be locked in the house with a raging young man, sun outside, no one else there. Trust me, the hands and the mouths of mothers have been necessary countless times over the years."

She shifted to move her right breast into Claude's mouth, letting him drink from there as well.

"The cocks of fathers have been enlisted, too," she said. "I think in some ways, Afflicted girls are more dangerous. They have the same drives, the same hungers, and the same powers, but we still have this impression of girls as shrinking flowers. Awakened, there is nothing so dangerous as unsatisfied Afflicted woman."

"But what of mates?" asked Claude. "Has anyone ever mated?"

"Yes and no," said Frederique. "There are three I can think of. Two mother-son, pairings and one father-daughter where they took the children as first-mates through necessity. However, they quickly took another mate at the insistence of the Council. Wait, I can think of one other. We knew a woman whose husband died. Shortly after, her son returned home. She never took another mate, yet they lived together for the rest of their days. We had no doubts about the situation, but since they never had children and they never underwent a physical mating procedure, the Council never pressed the issue. Now, I'm getting thirsty."

She dropped down and took his stiff manhood into her mouth. She kissed and caressed it as she spoke.

"But Claude, you must remember that we are not Afflicted," she said. "As Galen has said many times, we are new."

She gave a few quick licks to the tip, sending him into bliss.

"I like being new with you," she murmured. "I like it very much."

Pushing her mouth down on him again, she pulled him in. First his tip pushed against the back of her mouth, then deeper, and deeper again. She rocked up and down, taking his manhood in. This way of pleasure could often be rough -- and she enjoyed it that way -- but, today there was nothing violent about it. She opened easily for him and the way it spread her throat was not raw, but welcoming.

She pushed down further and when he was almost all the way in, she swallowed. The moans her constricting throat spurred from Claude brought a smile to her cock-filled lips. She kept working him with her hands and throat, swallowing at the perfect time with each bob of her head. She felt the first trickle of cum from his tip and she increased her attentions.

She was about to pull off of him to speak when she realized there was a lovely benefit to their new connection.

"Don't hold back, Claude," she crooned in his mind. "Give me as much as you wish, but I need to taste you right now."

"Y...yes, mother," he answered back. "Anything you want."

He allowed his body to surrender and she hummed her approval as she felt the gentle stream turn into a torrent down her throat. Her body responded hungrily, the scintillating salty taste caused her system to sing with joy.

'Yes' her body seemed to say. 'Feed me.'

She swallowed his loads, relishing the taste and sensation, but when she pulled off and looked at his cock she jumped back in surprise.

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed, staring at his cock.

"What? What is it, mother?" asked Claude.

"You... you're glowing!"

Claude looked down at his cock which was striped with streams of spit and jism. It seemed normal to him. Yes, he was still fully stiff, but that was normal these days. Other than that, he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.

"Don't you see it?" she asked.

"See what? Glowing? No, I see nothing unusual."

Frederique bent down close to his stiffness and examined it more closely. She suddenly had an understanding of what Galen and his compatriots saw when they looked into someone's system. The harder she looked, the more the dripping fluid seemed to magnify in her consciousness. She realized that the glow she was seeing was not necessarily with her eyes. She was seeing it with her consciousness. She had become more aware of the life around her, especially in this delicious fluid.

"Oh my," she said with a smile. "How lively they are, those millions of cells. So ambitious, so joyful in their swimming."

Separated from their host and outside of a warm environment, those swimmers were already dying off, yet it wasn't a sad thing. That was their job, to swim with their millions of brothers/sisters with little hope of succeeding. They only knew the joy of living and being released.

She pulled back her focus again and looked down at Claude with wonderment. Indeed, there was a glow emanating from his cum, at least to her eyes. She saw other things, too. She could sense that his testicles were practically roaring with activity, churning out more 'swimmers' in a few minutes than a mortal man might in a month or even a year. Within, she could sense his other glands pumping out fluid to mix with those swimmers. Already, he was almost entirely 'full' and could easily produce another ejaculation that would dwarf any mortal's output or even an Afflicted 'stallion'.

"Mother, what are you talking about?" asked Claude.

"Something beautiful, my boy. Can I ask: can you give me a little more? Just one gush?"

"Of course," he said. "But..."

"Please, stand for me," she said, interrupting him. "Give me some and I'll show you."

Claude stood on the bed and she stroked his cock with assertive tugs with one hand, twisting her other around his lovely shaft using the fluid still there as a lubricant.

"Now?" he said in an almost helpless grunt.

"Please," she said. "In here."

She put her hands together and indicated for him to aim there.

He barked out a joyful cry and let his cock release again. He pointed his round tip toward the cup she had made with her hands. She watched with delight as he poured the warm fluid into her cupped palms.

"My, my," she said. "So wonderful."

To Frederique, the salty broth radiated with a blue-white light.

"Do you see now?" she asked.

"I see my beautiful mate with a handful of my seed," he said. "Is there more?"

"Ooh, you have to see this! Here, let me show you."

She reached into his mind and tried to show him what she was seeing. Claude struggled to see it but at last, it all made sense and he could see it, too.

"Oh my!" he exclaimed. "That came out of me?"

"Mm hmm," she said.

She lifted her hands to her lips and sucked in the liquid. Having seen it, she could truly feel the life dancing down her throat.

I know where I want to feel that dancing next -- she thought to herself.

She stroked his cock again. With her new awareness, she sensed the reaction of his system to the pleasure she was bringing. Pleasure centers fired up in his brain and sent messages to his body to send even more blood, to 'maximize tumescence'. Sensing all of this could have made it clinical, but it didn't. It made it even more erotic to be so keenly aware of what each action had on her lover's system.

"There we are," she purred, knowing he could get no stiffer.

She floated up and then wrapped herself around his body. Her hips were high on his belly; her breasts were right at his mouth. He sucked lustily and she moaned while also 'watching' the lovely fluid flow into his mouth.

Her milk had a glow, too. Not as bright or rambunctious; more of a soft, pink glow. There were proteins and nutrients, but life as well. Galen would call them ferrins and lysosomes and other names, but to her they were just life and she reveled at the way it sparkled over Claude's tongue.

Claude lifted off the bed and his rise pulled her down upon his cock.

"Yes," she whispered. "That's what I need now."

He was an inch or so in and then he released her hips. She slid down so easily it was a surprise.

"My god you feel good," moaned Claude. "You're so slick."

"You made me that way," she said into his ear.

He lifted her up and pulled her back down.

"I'd like to think so," said Claude. "But this isn't just wet. You are different. It's like your slickness is beyond excited."

"And it feels good?" she asked seductively.

"Oh my god, unbelievable!" he said.

In response, he started to grow himself within her.

"No, not yet," she urged him. "Let's just enjoy this for now. We'll work our way up to that."

He receded, but couldn't help lifting her up and pulling her back down again, eliciting a squeal of pleasure.

"Again, please," she said.

He did.

"Again, please."

He did.

"Again."

With the grace of perfectly matched lovers, and the freedom from gravity granted to those who could fly, they began taking each other in earnest.

Frederique had thought this time would be gentle, but it was clear that Claude (and her own body) disagreed. His first fierce thrusts awakened the vixen within her, and she quickly changed any plans for calm lovemaking.

It was time to fuck.

He coursed into her, but avoided a full impact. He knew, or his body knew, that quick strokes in and out were what would excite her the most at this moment. His cock sawing in and out of her was almost a tease. Had she been conscious of her own internal workings (which she wasn't; she was too aroused to give any thought to such things), she would have seen similar activities going on within her. Her body was ramping up every nerve, every gland, every enflamed tissue in preparation for her mate. Blood was rushing to her own body parts, swelling her moist lips below and expanding her interior canal to prepare for more of her lover -- much more.

Claude continued his rapid plunges and his cock practically scorched her interior with friction. He wasn't even using the full portion of his normal length. Instead, it was perhaps a hand-span of cock that was working in and out of her so quickly.

"Please Claude, a little more," she begged.

"Like this," he teased.

He gave her perhaps another half inch.

"Enough?"

"For now," she sighed.

Yet it wasn't enough. Her hips were already quivering on the brink of her first orgasm of that session, but Claude's teasing cock only offered more delicious torment. Each partial plunge had her pink lips aching for the first impact of his sturdy base against them. There was a mirror in the room and in it she could see his huge, bald cock sliding in and out of her, his hairless swollen testicles swaying oh-so-close to slapping against her.

"Oh please" she implored. "Give it all to me. Let me feel you against me."

"Like this?" said Claude.

He slowed his hips and then began his first slow full push into her. She sighed with relief upon feeling his hips finally touch hers. His hot skin brushed against her clit and those nerves cried out for more. They ached to be touched, to be rubbed, to be slapped.

"Is that what you want?" asked Claude. "For me to be right here?"

"No, my baby. I want more."

"More? More how?" he growled.

"Fuck me harder," she rasped. "I need your cock to tear me open. I didn't think I did, but I have to have it."

"Here?" asked Claude with a thrust.

"Oui," she cried. "Oh god, do I need you."

Claude's body instinctively knew what she needed. Picking up the same rhythm he had been using before, but deeper now, he began pounding into her. She shrieked at the incursion of his cock and rejoiced at the impact of their hips. Though his shaved pelvis was only smacking briefly against her clit with each thrust, it was enough. Between that and the sizzle of his flesh sliding in, she could only moan with vague coherence as he rocked her body in the air above the bed.

"Almost," she murmured into his ear. "Almost there."

He kept pounding, but dipped his head down to her breasts. With his lips he sucked hungrily on her left swollen nipple, and with the hand not wrapped around her waist, he pinched her right nipple. That was all it took to send her over and she screamed out with passion. Her hips tried to lock around his, but he would have none of it. With the same persistent cadence he continued pummeling her as her climax electrified every inch of her body.

"Tu me rends folle!" she cried. "You're driving me crazy. So crazy. Oh!!!"

She cried out with surprise at the feeling of a warm gush down below. It wasn't him. She had, from time to time, had a bit of ejaculation, but now she poured herself over him in the thralls of such pleasure.

He kept pounding into her, clearly having no intention of stopping unless she asked otherwise.

"Wait. Wait." she finally pleaded. "Just a little rest, that's all I need."

Claude smiled a deliciously evil grin and ceased his full-on attack. Now in control, he flew them down to the bed (to a dry patch) and spun them around so that he was lying on his back. He stretched out and she came to rest on top of him, his rod still nestled within her.

She rested upon him, her head on his shoulder, her huge breasts crushed warmly between their bodies.

She did not sleep, but laid there gathering her strength and letting her heart approach something of a normal rate.

Claude was patient. He was also certainly sweating from the exertion but he felt he could have gone another day without pausing. After a few minutes she raised her head up and gave him a bleary smile.

"What did you do to me?"

"Only what you asked," he said.

"I wouldn't even know how to ask for what you just did."

She leaned up to kiss him tenderly and as she did she gave him a tight squeeze down below.

"Does that mean you're ready for more?"

"Absolutely," she murmured. "You simply made me more hungry. And, I have an idea of just what I would like to do next."

"What?"

Frederique's mind had lingered on a particular sensation from the sharing. When they had demonstrated their 'jump-fucking', it had been a wonderful sort of shift to find another man deep inside of her after each jump. However, the most unusual sensation had been when she had been the odd woman out. One moment, she had been empty and the next (even though she had known it was coming) she was suddenly filled.

It had been a great subject of debate among the deplaceurs. In considering whether it was possible for one man to replace another inside of a woman, they ceded that it could be possible -- especially if the cocks were similar sized -- which they had been with the boys' 'extended' abilities. However, Bullet and Brolly saw no way that a man could materialize with his shaft inside of a woman who was not currently 'occupied'. They were certain that the man's stiff flesh would become enmeshed with her soft walls and they would become fatally merged. Yet, the Seven had accomplished that. They had proven it was possible before the eyes of everyone at the sharing.

The sensation Frederique felt when being entered 'dry' was what she wanted to try again. What she recalled was the quick shock in her pussy felt much like when a lover slammed into her with surprise, but multiplied many times over. She'd been empty, then FULL with an improbably large appendage. Even the shock of the cock's sudden departure had held its own pleasures.

"Well, I'm ready," said Claude.

"Just wait," said Frederique. "This will take a bit of planning."

She sat up, straddling him, his cock spearing her from below. She bit her finger in thought.

Claude was blessed with this heavenly view of Frederique in the dim light of the lavish bedroom. Her hair tousled, her breasts looming above him, his hands around her waist, his cock nestled within her.

"If this is what you want to do, I'm fine with that," said Claude. "I'll just keep looking at you and we can stay this way as long as you want."

"You're sweet," she said, while still concentrating. "Now, just wait. Here. We. Go!"

She winked out and appeared at the spot she had envisioned.

"Oh!" said Claude. "Why did you..."

Before he could finish his sentence, though, she had jumped back to ride him again.

It didn't quite work out. Frederique was straddling him, true -- but because his cock had flopped out when she left, her return found her pink lips riding atop his horizontal member, not swallowing it up.

"Hmm," she said. "Get back here."

She lifted up and pushed him back into her.

She tried again with the same result.

"Maybe it's because we came from on top," ruminated Claude. "When all of the boys were jumping into you, our angles were the same."
"No, that's not it," said Frederique. "You were just there each time. The angle had nothing to do with it."

They tried again with the same result.

"I think I know," said Frederique, sliding down him again. "At the sharing, we were connected. We were talking. All of us were...I don't know how to describe that feeling, but do you know what I mean? When we're all linked?"

"Yes, I do," said Claude. "But how do we do that?"

"Just open that part of yourself to me and we'll work together. Ready?"

"Yes," he said.

She jumped away and looked at him with glowing eyes. Staring at each other intensely, they felt the dizzy buzz of connection that suddenly helped make sense of their objective.

"Now!" she called in is mind.

They succeeded. She deplaced and squealed with pleasured surprise. She was riding him again. Claude also seemed to have enjoyed the 'leap' and gasped at the sudden squeeze of her pussy around him.

"Again?" she asked.

"Oh, please," he moaned.

She jumped away for a few seconds, then reappeared astride (and around) him.

"Oh, mother, what sort of wonder is this?" moaned Claude.

"You like it?" she asked.

"God yes, don't you?"

"I love it," she said. "Let's do it again."

Frederique deplaced away and back again, it was easier this time. She did it again, then again. It was amazing, to feel him in then out again, like a perfect thrust into her depths, but with no hesitation. That wasn't to say there wasn't sensation. When he appeared within her (or perhaps she appeared around him), it was as though he was approaching from a distance -- from all directions -- and expanding outward into her.

If she liked it, Claude loved it. The sensations of her enfolding and leaving him had him gasping in near paralysis.

Frederique discovered she could enhance the pleasure even more by targeting her deplacing to a bit higher on his cock. Jumping there, then letting the simple force of gravity take over, created a sensation neither of them had ever felt.

It was her turn to drive him crazy. She kept up her drop-jumps for a few minutes and then decided to up the ante again. Concentrating fiercely, she executed a series of jumps so quick she was barely visible. Like the flicker of the early motion pictures which were yet to come, she became a blur of images, and Claude's cock never even had the chance to fall down. The staggered motion was enhanced by the way Claude's moans stayed steady while Frederique's cries had an almost echo quality, chopping in and out and also coming from different locations.

"Wait!" Claude finally cried.

"Are you there, aimé?" she gasped, stopping atop him.

"Yes, mama. Yes!"

Claude released an unbridled primal roar as his next load of cum was unleashed.

'Geyser' was the perfect word for his explosion. Frederique gasped as a fountain of spunk and manly flesh rose and expanded within her. The jolt of energy to her system was almost shocking in intensity. She joined him in climax and released a scream of her own as his expanding flesh surged into her, lifting her off of him before her voracious insides expanded to make room.

It was too perfect to stop. This was not his surrender, but merely his first few blasts to grease her insides with creamy lubricant.

They couldn't stop. This was not actually a 'climax', but a plateau -- a landing stage in advance of the summit to come.

She had already put her feet on the mattress. Without flying, it was the only way to ride his 'hyper-tumescence'. It was fun besides. She squatted over him, lifting up her dripping pussy high above him and sliding back down. Her hips riding up and down his cum-slickened pole, her face in his, she kissed him deeply, her tongue wrestling with his.

"Did you like that, my baby?" she asked.

"You know I did," he replied. "But not as much as what I'm going to do to you."

"I can't wait," she said.

She bounced up and down on him like that for several minutes, varying her speed from rapid-fire to slow, letting her cunt enjoy the full distance of his cock.

The pleasure for her was intense. She reached up to find a few tears on her face at one point, not from emotion but the sheer physical ecstasy as he filled her again and again with his massive cock.

Her legs began quivering and she had to drop down upon him again, sliding her feet back across the sheets to lie on top of him.

"Shall we go up?" he asked.

"I'd love to."

He flew them back into the air. He slowly pulled out and they kissed and caressed each other in a teasing fashion, exploring each other in preparation for the next adventure.

They kissed and spun around, eventually drifting into an aerial sixty-nine. They started with just their faces kissing upside down and then worked their way down, licking and sucking at each other's nipples.

"Just so you know, I won't be taking that monster down this throat, no matter how nicely you ask. So keep him at that size for now, thank you very much."

"Understood," said Claude with a laugh. He let his cock shrink back down to his 'normal' size, still more than enough to fill his mother's throat many times over.

They sucked at each other for several minutes. Claude's tongue on her pussy would have had her screaming, were it not for his cock stuffed in her mouth to muffle her cries. There could be no doubt that Claude's tongue knew what it was doing. Lapping away, he seemed to have gained another supernatural gift: a perfect knowledge of where and how to lick. He tongued away at her clit with firm strokes across her dripping opening in ways that had her hips twitching and bucking letting him know he was getting close. Her rising voice humming around his cock and her hips locking around his head told him he had succeeded in his goal.

"Oh my god," she moaned upon recovery. "If you will, please put that monster inside of me."

She spun around in the air and then floated backward toward him, pushing her flawless ass against his cock. His hands wrapped around and sought out her breasts. As he massaged them, she pushed her hips back and worked him between her lovely cheeks. The feel of his stiff wand worked its lusty magic and she was aching to have him inside of her once again.

He dipped down and put the tip slowly into her. Once there, he let his cock grow inside of her and she shuddered as he slid his super-human fullness into her.

"Enough?" he growled into her ear.

"Mmm, just a little more," she cajoled.

She felt him grow by another fraction in length and push out a bit more. She knew he would not be coming out of her again until the final burst -- the torrent of lust that her cunt was aching to milk from him.

Evolved as they were, any illusions about being sophisticated higher beings were erased at that moment. Though they still flew, they were not people but eagles or dragons controlled by nothing more than their primal needs.

Claude grabbed both of Frederique's arms and pinned them behind her. She whimpered from the pain but moaned from the excitement of him controlling her. His thundering staff pulled back and shoved into her with a force that sent a shock through her body and made her breasts bounce several times from the impact.

"That's it, fuck me," she growled.

He slammed into her.

"That's it, my baby. Fuck mama harder."

He slammed again.

His 'knot' had returned. Now, the tip of his cock was absurdly large and there was no way he would escape from her, even if he wanted. He would not be leaving her cunt until he came another time.

Her arms still pinned behind her, she closed her eyes and willingly submitted to his animalistic pounding. His cock and hips rocked her body so hard that she grunted with the impact of each thrust. He began grunting too and the sounds coming from them were the undeniable sounds of rutting. There was no 'making love' at that point. The words were also base and bestial. Frederique, raised in the aristocracy of an ancient race, was no lady. She was a whore and a servant to lust, nothing more.

"Uhn -- fuck -- uhf -- my -- aanngh -- cunt,'' she growled. "Fuckmycunt, fuckmycunt, Fuck mama's cunt. Fuck me harder!"

Claude switched things and now grabbed her hands. Pulling her arms back behind her so far her shoulder blades were squeezed together. Her soft and perfect hands were now clawed handles with which he could manipulate her body. He pushed her away and back again rocking her perfect form at the end of each thrust.

Her ass was reddening from the slap of his hips, but she relished the sting. In the other direction, his rock hard tip was pounding in its attempts to get out. Counter to what one might have thought, the bruising impact of his tip against the inside of her pelvis was pleasurable. It was as though her inner walls had girded themselves for the battle of flesh she was engaged in.

Smack. His hips spanked against her.

Thunk. His stiff knot slid to a startling halt inside of her pelvis.

Smack. He rocked her again.

Thunk. She cried out with the exquisite torture of his cock trying to escape, but not being able to.

He dropped her hands and reached down instead for her thighs.

"That's it baby," she said in almost a whimper. "Fuck me with that cock. Fuck me so hard I can't remember who I am."

Little did she know how prescient those words would prove to be.

With his strong hands gripping her hips he had even greater leverage. With her flying abilities, she was able to fling herself on his pole with a violent passion. Her head was being whipped around with each blow of his hips. Her entire body shuddered with each impact.

"Would you cum for me?" she pleaded. "Just a little? You know you can? Please give me another 'taste'."

Claude grunted to the affirmative. Pulling outward until the firm thud against her pelvis. He moaned and she felt a hot jet spray out of him. His cock followed the blast in and the viscous syrup coated their connection with a new slickness that enhanced their pleasure even more.

"Oh Claude. How wet you've made me. Oh god I love riding that cock," she cried.

There were other curses and exclamations in more languages, growing more guttural with each thrust. They kept fucking in the air. First it was five minutes, then it was ten. Though they didn't realize it, they reached the half hour mark with no signs of stopping. Their natural lubrication was in good supply, but every once in while Claude would augment it with another simple blast.

At around the half hour mark, they entered the next phase of pleasure. Claude felt his orgasm beginning and prepared to unloose his final blast but Frederique reached out to him.

"No, wait," she urged him in her mind (though even forming those words mentally was difficult). "Just let yourself release, but don't let the cum follow."

She had known one or two men, the first from India, who could achieve a climax without ejaculating. She figured that if any men were capable of replicating that achievement, it would be her mates. She also knew that even Claude, with his massive member and full system, still had limits and that his next full climax would be his last for a few hours. She wanted things to go on a bit longer.

He paused and she showed him what she meant in her mind. He wondered if such a thing was possible but he was decided it was worth a try.

They started fucking again and her slick suction on his massiveness took almost no time before he felt the eruption beginning again.

He knew how to do it -- how to stop his ejaculation. He had already done it several times that session alone, but this was a different chore. He knew his body wanted a full release of a complete orgasm.

He roared out with joy.

"Oh god!" he cried. "It's so good."

The cum started shooting out of his cock. He could physically feel the white mercury traveling as the climactic instinct tried to unleash everything.

"No," he said out loud. "Not yet!"

He gritted his teeth and wrestled with the cum struggling to get out. He clenched whatever part it was that contained his cum, but it felt like the dam was going to burst.

Suddenly, the dam held. He smiled upon feeling the hot stream begin to recede back into his cock.

"Yes," he said. "I was able to... Oh my god!!!"

The stream of fluid had stopped, but the explosion of pleasure would not be denied. He pulled Frederique back into him and groaned. His eyes rolled into the back of his head as the climax overtook him.

"Oh Claude, are you?" she moaned.

In response, he could only grip her tighter. His hips began bucking involuntarily as the practically obscene pleasure sent him to the rough equivalent of an orgasmic seizure. He pulled her up and closer to him, kissing her neck as if in pain. He wrapped one arm around her waist and clasped one of her breasts fiercely with his other hand.

"Oh mère," he groaned. "Oh god, I've never... Oh god!"

The pleasure kept pulsing through him. Because there was no cum to signal the release, his body kept doing what it thought it should do. Frederique was gasping along with him, basking in the pleasure of her lover.

She could feel him coming. His hips kept bucking and she could feel the muscles in his massive tool contracting again and again as the equivalent of a dry-firing musket brought him endless pleasure, but none of the usual conclusion.

"Yes, my boy," she groaned. "Oh yes, cum for me. Cum again and again and never stop."

When the climax finally receded enough for him to have some semblance of focus, he reached down to touch her enflamed clit.

"Now you," he insisted. "You must join me."

"Yes, my boy," she moaned. His fingers traced a perfect circle around her clit. His other hand massaged her breast and a few drops escaped from her nipple. Using that fluid, he pinched her hard nub with slippery pressure and made her moan even louder.

"I'm almost there," she gasped. "Oh you're so big in me and the way you... ah... ah... Oh, here I go."

They were moaning together as the endless climax kept climbing higher.

Sensing her orgasm, Claude's body seemed to want to push things beyond where either of them could envision going. His hips pulled far out and slid in slowly; oh so slowly.

Her inner walls were contracting constantly from ecstasy, so the inner glide of his cock was all the more pleasurable.

He pumped into her again, and she cried out with delight.

"Oh god, Claude. I can't... I can't breathe," she stammered. "But I don't' want to. I don't need to. All I need is this!"

His hand reached up to caress her neck.

"Yes, like that," she murmured. "Just like that."

She grabbed his hand and showed him what she meant. As increasing waves of pleasure shook her, she pushed his hand tighter on her neck. At her bidding, he choked her slowly. As the oxygen left her brain, the pleasure increased still more. She felt the blackness coming and she didn't care. She had surrendered.

Yet, the blackness didn't come. She almost fainted and then her eyelids fluttered open again. She was different though. Sound had stopped. All she could hear was her heartbeat meshing with Claude's. She pushed his hand away and breathed. She heard the whoosh of air into her lungs.

Swish...

That was the sound of his cock pushing into her.

Above all there was her heartbeat.

She pulled her leg up to her breast and twisted. Her leg went up over Claude's head and she was now facing him. The only sound in her head was the rasp of their breathing, the drum-like pounding of their hearts (which seemed to be in synch), and the gliding, hissing music of his manhood sliding in and out of her. Loudest of all was the beating of their hearts.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

He started to speak, but she knew she wouldn't be able to answer him, or even comprehend his words. She pulled his lips to hers. That was all she wanted.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

She was like a prize fighter who had just taken a blow to the jaw. It wasn't a blow, however, it was pleasure. Her body was so overwhelmed with ecstasy she was in a heavenly state of orgasmic shock.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

Claude laid them out horizontally as he kept thrusting into her. They descended slowly down. Frederique was vaguely aware of the feel of the sheets against her back, but only so much as to lift her legs up to give Claude easier access. Claude himself did not yield completely to gravity, but kept his lower half suspended a few inches off the ground. It was the only way he could still take full strokes of his entire shaft.

Frederique watched him above her as though in a dream. He slid forward, his manhood plundering her completely. He slid back and the outward journey simply stimulated both of them even more.

He slid back in and she was coming. Or, he was coming, or they were coming. Frederique couldn't tell any more. His hips were surging involuntarily with his endless orgasms and as his cock pulsed into her with each spasm, it would perpetuate her own climax, which in turn would spur on her muscles to pleasure him and continue the cycle.

Her hands pulled desperately at his back and his ass. Buried though he was inside of her, she still wanted him closer. Her arms pulled him to her fiercely wanting him as tight against her as he could get.

Still, there was the silence. She knew she was moaning and that he must be as well, but she could not hear it. All that existed was their heartbeats, their breath, and his cock inside of her. Then, the pleasure increased so much that she wasn't even aware of those things. Neither was Claude.

Their eyes were open and their bodies were still making love, but they were no longer there. The untold pleasure had catapulted them into another place. Their slumbering mates were taken too. In their dreams, they joined Claude and Frederique.

They sailed up and over the globe, looking over it as if they had flown miles into the atmosphere. They sailed up and over time, too. The future was obscured by a white curtain of light, but the past was a coherent tapestry of life that they could look down upon. They went back first. They were able to see back to the valley that had been the home of the Elders and the peaceful times there. They saw the history of the Elders as though it were a river of life flowing from the valley, to Wales, and then on to their hidden place in America.

They saw the Afflicted. They watched the island in the Mediterranean; a shipload of well-bred soldiers who were forced to take refuge there. They saw those soldiers bitten by the Night Foxes and infected by the symbiote which nearly turned them into bloodthirsty killers until Galen was fetched and discovered how to quell their hungers. They saw Galen infect himself, wishing to study the Affliction more closely, but also taking advantage of the long life he knew it offered.

They travelled forward and saw Frederique with her first mate Christophe. They relived the madness of Jacinto and the heartbreak of Frederique.

They went forward again, and saw the battered and numb Frederique finally find love again in the arms of Palo. They saw their childhoods: Abby and Jacob in the lovely forest town in Canada; Claude and Abby in Morocco; Martin apprenticing as a clockmaker; and even Glennis, wandering the streets of New York in complete innocence.

They saw their awakenings and their hungers. They saw their lovemaking. The battles they had recently lived through were a blur, but the singular moment was the instant Claude injected their combined fluids into Frederique's neck. That was the moment they had truly become 'them', and also the moment when the past they were watching began separating from the present they were stepping into. With a sudden rush, they left their distant view and came rushing back into their own bodies.
"Oh Claude!" moaned Frederique.

They were back. The silence was gone. They were back in the present, making love to each other. Claude was still taking his long strokes into her and she was still clinging to him passionately.

"Oh, mother," he moaned. "Oh, Frederique."

Their bodies were drenched in perspiration, but it simply added to it all, lubricating the motion of their bodies.

"Are you ready, my love?"

"Yes," groaned Claude.

"Then it is time," she whispered.

They were so connected; she didn't even wait for Claude to release. She reached down into his system and unlatched the gate blocking his white lively fluid.

On the next spasm of his cock, the first huge gush arrived. She was so aware of it; she could physically feel the blast splash against her elevated cervix. The hot fluid spurned on her own penultimate climax.

"Yes, Claude, yes," she moaned. "Give me more!"

He complied with her wishes and that blast was followed by another and another. She gripped so hard at the sheets that she actually tore handfuls of fabric from it. The feeling of her son's beautiful cum and his massive cock inside of her gave her infinite pleasure.

His manhood retreated, then slid in again, sloshing into the growing pool of seed. With Jacob, she had asked, but now she ordered directly: Claude's cock shrank down to its standard, impressive stiffness. She clamped herself tightly around the base, but kept room in her chamber for even more of his semen to pour within.

"More," she moaned. "Give mama as much as you can, and even more after that."

"Anything for you, mother," he groaned.

Wave after wave after wave gushed into her and it still wasn't enough. She was ravenous and there was only one thing that would satiate her hunger. His seed was filling the very place where his life had taken shape and that knowledge seemed to spurn her pleasure on.

"More," she moaned. "More, my darling."

He urged his system on, doing his best to milk every drop he could. With one final scream of pleasure, he poured the last he could and fell on top of her, panting with exhaustion.

"Well done, my lover," she murmured into his ear. "Very well done."

A few moments later, he started to get up.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Water," he moaned. "I'm dying of thirst."

"Oh, don't go," she implored him. "Stay here, inside of me."

"But..."

"Come here, my boy," she purred. "I'll quench your thirst."

She pushed his mouth down to the place they both enjoyed. His lips pulled hungrily at her breast and she gasped as the stimulation brought a final wave of climax through her system.

"So good," she murmured. "So, so good."

His parched throat eased, Claude lay down and they adjusted their bodies in a way that they could sleep comfortably while Claude still stayed inside of her. Claude, justifiably, surrendered to sleep within a few seconds.

For Frederique, however, the warm comfort of sleep would descend more slowly. As she lay with her son-now-mate-and-lover in her arms, she realized she couldn't recall a time when she had ever been so peaceful and happy. She was full of life. Her body was singing with the universe in ways she had never felt. Her lover's cock was still pulsing and hard within her. Glowing within her womb was an effervescent pool of life. Closing her eyes, she could envision the blue glow of life teeming within her belly. These seeds of life were slowly dying, but as they did, each cell fired off a burst into her body, passing on its energy to her grateful system. Tiny though it was, she felt her system reinvigorated by each flash.

She knew this would be a thirst that would never be quenched. The seed of her mates would forever be a touchstone of existence. They would feed her and she would feed them; their bodies would sustain each other.

Her eyelids finally began to drift closed. Her mind reached out once more in search of her other mates. Her sisters smiled in their sleep at feeling her touch. The cocks of the other males stiffened at the gentle caress of her thoughts.

She fell asleep in Claude's strong arms, her son's cock still buried within her.






CHAPTER 21



TWO MONTHS LATER

The Seven had set up a permanent residence in the Governor's Chamber. In truth it wasn't a simple chamber but a suite of rooms that provided ample space while also allowing for privacy (though that need wasn't all that high). Their lovemaking had been frequent and wonderful. The women's bodies had become even more stunning and the men's physiques had followed suit.

They had discovered that there were limits to what their bodies could do... the hyper-tumescence allowed the young men to expand to over 15 inches, but not much more. The women's bodies could only accommodate them so far, and after that there was no room regardless of how flexible or expandable their new interiors were. Nobody was complaining.

On this day, the boys were near Cape Town, South Africa. On a jump to Hawaii, they had discovered something called surfing and it was now their mission to travel at least one day out of the week to discover new places to surf. Though they could now travel by day, they found that surfing at night gave them greater anonymity. With their long wooden boards, they popped in and out all over the globe. Martin was currently working on inventing a lighter type of board with a hollow interior.

This evening, the boys were reveling beneath the moonlight at Cape, St. Francis, where the waves seemed to never end.

At the same time, Frederique was visiting the lovely Cora, who needed counsel now and again on adjusting to the ways of the Afflicted.

"You three!" shouted Aimée's voice in the boys' minds. "We need you home. Now!"

"In a little while," complained Claude. "This is the perfect spot, and..."

"I don't give a damn about it; you have all of eternity to get better at this surfing thing. This is important. Get back here, NOW!"

Her tone left no room for argument. The boys grabbed their boards and deplaced to a freshwater stream to rinse the saltwater from them, then back to the Governor's chamber.

Frederique, too, had received an anxious call from Abby, but the empath would not reveal what it was about. She excused herself from Cora and jumped back to their home in Dougga.

She arrived to find Aimée standing with hands-on-hips, confronting Claude.

"How could you?" shouted Aimée.

"How could I what?" asked Claude. "I have no idea what you are going on about."

Frederique tried to reach out and discover the source of Aimée's irritation, but she was met with a steel door in her daughter's mind.

"Come with me!" said Aimée, giving an angry nod of her head for the young men and Frederique to follow her.

They walked into what had been the governor's office and were met by quite a crowd. Galen was there with Colette, as were Pasteur and Jeannie. Palo stood with Seiko, both of them beaming, seated quietly in chairs to one side were Jessamine, Monshellen (Glennis's egg mother), and Brana. Their moods were hard to read.

Glennis and Abby were seated on the other side with folded arms and fairly angry expressions.

"Would you mind telling us what's going on?" asked Jacob.

"Sit!" screamed Aimée.

Abby pointed to three separate chairs. The boys did not argue and sat down fearfully. They had never seen such rage in Aimée, at least not since their mating.

Frederique went to sit with the girls and put a soothing hand to Aimée's arm.

"Now then, dear. What is this about?"

"Well, mother," said Aimée through gritted teeth. "How do you feel about being a stepmother... and a grandmother? I suppose that's what it means if you look at it accurately."

"Stepmother?"

"Yes, our virile young men there have conspired to sire some children! One apiece."

"What?" said Frederique. She had an inscrutable look of puzzlement on her face. "Do you mean, you, my sisters?"

"No! It's not us," said Abby. "It's them."

She pointed an accusing finger at Jessamine, Monshellen, and Brana. The three blushed, but didn't look all that ashamed. There was actually more an air of pride in their eyes.

"Them, but..."

"It turns out your new cells are more deviously clever than even I could have foreseen," said Galen. "I never would have predicted that your hybrid cells would be compatible with an Afflicted woman's, nor an Elder's. However, the seed of these young men doesn't seem to care much for my opinion of cellular structure or whether they are technically another species. Those little swimmers had a job to do, and they did it."

"When did this happen?" asked Frederique.

"At the liaisongangen," said Monshellen, shyly.

The lovely blond woman from the Elder race was blushing fiercely and could not look up to meet their eyes.

"Madame Villepreux-Power has confirmed mine to be Martin's child. I coupled with Martin just the once, but it seems that is all it took."

"What about you two?" said Frederique to Brana and Jessamine. "Didn't you use the precaution?"

"Of course I did..." said Brana, but there was a hesitation in her voice. "Well, I did with everyone else. Claude was my last at the gathering and I didn't bother because of what Galen had said."

"It was similar with me," said Jessamine. "Jacob was my last after many men. I still remember floating there in the water with his warm seed inside of me. It felt so nice it didn't even occur to me to use the precaution."

"How could you do this!?" Aimée demanded of the young men.

"Now Aimée, I think you know very well how we did it," said Jacob.

"Don't you get smart with me, Jacob," said Aimée.

The other two girls were just as flummoxed, but they were reacting differently. Abby, with her innate empathy was reacting to the pride she sensed in the three pregnant women while also wrestling with the odd mix of happiness and jealousy in her own mind. She was certainly overjoyed that her mates were going to be having children, but there was that part of her that wished she might have been the first to bear a child with one of them... especially Jacob.

Glennis was more accepting of the fact. Perhaps because she came from a race that had been mostly childless, to see her egg-mother flushed with the pride of motherhood was joyous in its own right.

Most visibly shaken, was Frederique. Abby sensed it and she went to her bloodsister's side.

"Frederique, what is it? What bothers you so?"

"I need to talk with Galen, and the other doctors. Please, come with me sisters."

The beautiful warrior stood and walked to a private bedchamber, not even looking to assure that the others followed. They did. The boys were left to offer clumsy congratulations to the Afflicted women who were now bearing their children.

In the bedroom, they shut the door.

"Throw up a block," said Frederique to Abby. "I want to be sure the boys do not know what we discuss in here."

"Of course, Frederique," said Abby calmly.

The empath threw up a mental shield and they were isolated within the room.

"Now, what is bothering you, Frederique," asked Galen.

Frederique brushed tears from her eyes.

"I... I was with child," she said. "At the liaisongangen I took each of my new mates to a bed and I welcomed their seed within me. I was determined to have children as soon as possible. I even bade my body to release three eggs and I felt each one take life. I was certain that in nine months' time I would be delivering triplets, one from each father. Yet, by the next morning I could not feel the life there anymore. Just as quickly as I was with child, it was gone... and don't question me on this, doctors. I know what happened."

"I believe you," said Galen.

"Then what is it? Has something gone wrong? Will these new bodies of ours never bear children?"

"Hush," said Galen. "I could never see that happening. As full of life as you are, I am truly surprised that the four of you aren't already pregnant, even with the precaution. Let me examine you and we will find out the truth."

They laid Frederique back on the bed and her clothing was removed. Four doctors laid hands upon her and their minds examined every aspect of her reproductive system. Galen, Jeannie, Colette, and Pasteur all put their profound knowledge to use and examined every aspect of her system.

They looked for almost a quarter hour and then stepped aside for a conference. With such serious matters, none of the women felt it was in order to eavesdrop. At last, Galen stepped forward with a calm smile on his face.

"First, Frederique, you must know that nothing horrible happened when the fertilized eggs did not grow. At this very moment, all throughout the world, countless women have conceived, their bodies have determined the pregnancy isn't viable, and the fertilized ova has been reabsorbed into the body. It is the body's natural way and it happens far more often than you think. You were simply aware of conceiving, is all."

Jeannie picked up the thread of conversation. "For you, we are fairly certain what happened." She looked at all four of the women. "You are all continuing to change. Though your initial transformation was abrupt and dramatic, it is no simple thing for a body to alter itself to the very core. For the young men, they produce their seed at a rapid rate and within one or two ejaculations, they had cleansed their systems of mere Afflicted sperm cells and were soon producing 'new' sperm cells that echo the cellular code of your kind."

Pasteur spoke next. "However, women's bodies are different. When we re-awoke the reproductive systems of the Elders, it was just that, waking their bodies up again. With you, there were still several developed cells in your bodies that retained your old genetic code. For whatever reason, your altered systems have decided to wait. It seems they wish to wait until you are producing cells that are absolutely and undeniably encoded with your new form before they will allow conception."

"You speak of our bodies as if they are intelligent," said Abby. "That they have minds of their own."

"In a way, they do," agreed Colette. "You are unlike any creatures that have ever existed."

Aimée was still full of angry jealousy. "But, why didn't the bodies of those women out there reject the pregnancy?"

"Because their bodies are not as smart," said Galen patiently. "To them, these fertilized eggs are not only good enough, but superior. In truth, I wouldn't doubt it if the fertilized eggs were 'smart' enough to send masking signals to their systems to assure that their bodies don't reject them."

Aimée was about to complain some more.

"Aimée," Galen said calmly. "Before you continue down this trail of juvenile jealousy, I want to remind you that you have been aware of your mates taking many women to bed, even in your relatively young life. It is unbecoming to show such emotions just because these three lovely women are now with child by them. While I have stated before that I wasn't all that concerned about the genetic problems of such a small gene pool because of how smart your systems are. At the same time, as a scientist I am far from displeased that there will be more diversity to choose from for the sake of your children. For example, Monshellen now carries a child that is quite likely a girl. She will be Martin's daughter. Imagine if you ever have a son by Jacob or Claude. There will be a wonderful mate waiting for him when he is grown."

"When?" said Frederique in a quiet voice. She had sat up and was now hugging her knees to her chest. "When might we conceive? One year? Two years? A hundred? When you spoke of the Elders, you spoke of thousands of egg cells waiting."

"Hundreds of follicles, actually," said Colette. "Follicles become egg cells. By our reckoning, only a handful of your old egg cells remain and we see the new follicles awaiting. It will be soon, my dear. Very soon. I would wager within the year."

* * * *

The three women were moved to Dougga. It had seemed proper that the mothers of this new race would be near the founders until they delivered. Sean was the only mate involved, since Brana and Monshellen were unmated.

Sean was kept rather busy. Brana, Monshellen, and Jessamine experienced no morning sickness, but massive amounts of pregnancy hormones and the attached libido.

Claude, Jacob, and Martin were otherwise occupied with the needs of their four mates. Once the other women started showing, Galen postulated that 'genetic competition' kicked in for Frederique and her bloodsisters. Whatever it was, the boys got little rest.

At last, the day arrived. Monshellen went into labor first, but Brana and Jessamine followed soon after. The doctors were called, but many midwives arrived as well. Everyone wanted to be involved on such a momentous occasion.

The deliveries were flawless. A few hours later, the Seven were gathered in a room where Brana held Claude's dusky-skinned baby girl on her chest, Monshellen was nursing Martin's fair young boy, and Jessamine was comforting a whimpering redheaded little girl who already looked very much like her Aunt Abby.

Frederique, Abby, Aimée, and Glennis cooed over each of the babies with adoring eyes.

Palo also arrived. He and Seiko were already making plans on how they would spoil his first granddaughter.

"Still upset?" asked Abby of Aimée, nudging her gently with her shoulder.

"Of course not," said Aimée. "Look at those darlings."

Abby gave her a warning glance and nodded toward Frederique. She was looking at the babies with absolutely love. How couldn't she? They were the children of her mates, after all. However, mixed in that same gaze was desire. It had been nine months now since she had wished to conceive. Though she had gone over 500 years before having children the first time, once she'd made up her mind to start anew, the wish had been burning in her breast. Though she had all of the time in the world, she was the one most aware of how harsh fate could be. Though they seemed to be invincible, she had lost her first husband before they had children. She was determined not to let it happen again.

At the end of the examination, Pasteur examined each of the babies carefully, looking at the most basic cellular level. He smiled to the Seven. "They are indeed of your kind. Their cells bear your code down to the last strand. You are no longer the Seven, but the Ten. We're going to have to find a better name for your race."

* * * *

Elsewhere, far to the south of them, Ken was watching the stars outside of his simple hut high on the slopes of Mount Kilimanjaro. Since being banished by his people, he had spent some time among the Afflicted, but enjoyed the peace of the stars for the most part. Glennis would reach out to him every couple of weeks, but he always assured her that he was doing well and needed nothing.

A moment before, a shooting star had burned across the horizon, seeming to almost pierce the Pleiades. Ken smiled. It was the sign. The prophecy had foretold he would walk alone for four and twenty turns.

Translated, that meant that one of the girls just born was destined for him. When she turned twenty-four, Ken would have his mate and he would never be alone again.

For most people, that would seem like an interminable time. For someone born to the Elders, it would feel like hardly any time at all. Besides, Ken had a great many more stars to study.

* * * *

Brana's daughter was named Hajar, after Palo's grandmother. Martin and Monshellen's son was named Pwellstosn, meaning 'new sun' in the Elder's language, and Jacob and Jessamine's daughter was called Tara to honor Sean's Irish heritage.

The Elder's petitioned to have Monshellen return to their valley to raise Pwellstosn. Though there were already almost thirty babies on the way among their kind, they felt it would do their people good to hear the cries of a baby once more echoing among their homes. Brana would not be returning to her duties in the dorms, except in an advisory capacity, and the Council felt that her presence in the New York community with a child of the new race would also be a very wise move in terms of good will. As for Sean and Jessamine, they truly felt like family and it was decided that they would raise young Tara in Dougga with the help of the Seven.
In truth, where the children were raised didn't matter. Any member of the Seven could now deplace at will and would be able to visit the children at a moment's notice.

When the children turned a month old, goodbyes were said and tears were shed, but it felt right that their children were already spreading out into the world. Galen and company were there for the leave-taking and pronounced the babies stunningly healthy and in capable hands.

After they left, he did a cursory examination of the Seven. The young men didn't take long, but he did dwell a bit on the women, especially Frederique.

"So?" she asked, intrigued at how long he had taken.

He just chuckled in an almost evil laugh.

"Prepare yourself for some surprises."

"What does that mean?" asked Frederique.

"Let's just say that your new race perhaps isn't as 'civilized' as I initially thought."

"What does that mean?" she asked in an exasperated tone.

Galen would say no more and a moment later he winked out with Bullet, offering no further explanation.

* * * *

Three days passed in business-as-usual fashion. They made love often and continued exploring the world. For the five former Afflicted, it was especially wonderful since their new forms were no longer averse or harmed by sunlight. It was quite an adventure to be able to explore a world they had only known by moonlight.

Galen's cryptic comments hovered above them though, making them wonder at his meaning.

On the fourth day, the meaning became incredibly clear. Frederique had gone off to visit Monshellen and little 'Sunny' as they called him, when she got a rather fierce message from Aimée.

"Mother, stay away," growled her daughter's voice in her head.

"What do you mean? Are you in danger?"

"No danger," Aimée replied. "Not for me, but I can't vouch what I'll do to you if you interfere with what I'm going to do with Claude."

"Oh... very well, daughter," she said, perplexed.

Frederique reached out with her mind to try and contact her other mates and get some explanation. However, she was met with a wall of lusty obsession. Her mental connection was always a bit stronger with her 'sisters' as they called each other. So, she tried Glennis first.

"Just try and find me," was the topmost thought in Glennis's mind. The fair girl's emotions were a mix of challenge and longing. Challenge, because she didn't want this to be easy... longing, because she wanted something, or someone, very badly."

"Oh, I will," growled a voice that sounded like Martin's.

Next, Frederique reached out to Abby.

"You'll have to catch me first," snarled the redhead's inner voice. "And I'm not going to let you. I'll never forgive you for what you did with Jessamine."

Frederique contemplated what she was hearing. All three of her sisters were evading their prime mates and the boys' thoughts were so lustful, so one-dimensional, that she couldn't decipher much more than 'mine' as the primary thought in her male mates' minds.

She tried to get a fix on them, but it proved impossible. Between jumping, flying, and plain running, it seemed that the girls were hopping all over the planet to evade their partners.

She jumped back to the Governor's Chamber and was aware of a strange scent. She could not place it, but suddenly what she was witnessing called to mind a very familiar scenario. In her life she had witnessed many animals mating, and the emotions her mates were emitting was shockingly similar to the mating dance she had witnessed between Lions and Wolves. The male had to prove himself, either by fighting off a competitor, or by plain and simply catching her... if he could. Was this what Galen had meant?

At about the same moment that she realized this, a flurry of indescribable emotions suddenly took hold of her system.

"Damned right they should have to catch us," she cursed. "They think they're good enough for us. Fuck that. They'll never be good enough, those cheating bastards. You show them, sisters!"

In hindsight, she would realize it was the pheromones in their quarters that flipped her mind into an animal-like state. That didn't matter at the moment though, for the next hour she would find herself pacing back and forth in the Governor's Chamber, monitoring the events of her mates from afar as well as she could.

* * * *

Glennis had jumped to the valley, to Palo and Seiko's mansion, and to the mine at Seven Mile Canyon. Martin had been in hot pursuit but she had stayed a jump ahead of him.

This time, she materialized in the narrow cavern directly behind Havasu Falls in the Grand Canyon. As soon as she did, she wiped her mind clean of any thoughts. She sensed Martin's arrival, but kept her mind as empty as she could. She knew he was standing in the water beyond the falls but did not try to find out any more. Because of the strong mineral content in the water, it shielded her from his detection.

"Where are you my little whore?" he growled. Sweet, gentle, Martin who was the last to use such words was possibly the most effected by the mating stage the girls had passed into.

"You think you'll have Jacob, or Claude, well you're wrong. You're mine and if either of them tries to take you I'll stop every cell in their systems until I've had my way with you and your tight little cunt."

Glennis's breathing quickened at the hungry tone of his thoughts. She was the most 'saucy' of the group and to hear Martin going on like this... to claim his dominance and ownership of her... the juices in her pussy were practically flowing already.

She could just see his silhouette through the curtain of water she was hiding behind. She knew she shouldn't say anything if she wanted to evade him again... but did she really want to do that.

"What if I want Claude?" she teased. "He might be a much better father to my child."

She saw the shadow of Martin turn toward the falls. She sensed his rage and jealousy... and it made her glad. She wanted him angry... but she didn't want him quite yet.

Martin watched as her lithe figure suddenly ripped through the falling water and up into the air.

"Come down here!" he cried.

With a flip of his hand, he gestured for her to fall and she came splashing down into the deep pool beyond him.

"Fuck you!" she cried when she came up spluttering and treading water.

"Soon," growled Martin. "I will be fucking you soon."

"Not likely!" she yelled back.

At that moment, she envisioned the warehouse back in New York and prepared to jump. Yet, when she tried she suddenly found herself blocked.

"A little trick I learned from your kind," said Martin. "If you're going to get away from me now, it won't be by deplacing."

Glennis tried to fly, but was too bogged down by the water. Flying not being her primary gift, it was sometimes more difficult. So, she started swimming for the opposite shore in long strokes. She climbed out of the water and started walking up the bank. She knew she would soon be dry enough to fly.

Suddenly, everything slowed. As she tried to move her leg, she felt it suddenly go numb. It was something like when her leg fell asleep due to resting in an odd position. Then, her other leg froze and she found herself standing like a statue, absolutely paralyzed.

"You thought you would run, did you?" said Martin over the roar of the water.

She was frozen, turned away from him, but his voice was now at her ear. She thrilled at the feel of his nearness.

"Are you mine?" his voice rasped in her mind.

"Never."

His hand rubbed over her ass through her wet dress.

"I'll repeat the question," he said. "Are you mine?"

He lifted the wet fabric and caressed her cold buttocks. She would have moaned, had she any control of her body.

"Go fuck yourself!"

"Why would I do that, my mate, when I can do it to you?"

She would have protested, but could only stand in numb silence as her dress disappeared from her body, then reappeared to fall in a splat on the rocks beside them.

She felt his hands on her body... felt him spreading her legs apart and then bending her body over to place her hands on the bank above her. She might as well have been a store mannequin, the way he was manipulating her.

Her breathing quickened and her heart started beating strongly. Her eyes were the only things she could control and all she could see was his shadow. Slowly, she saw the motions of him removing his shirt and trousers, and saw them fall down beside her dress.

She breathed even more quickly on seeing him approach behind her.

His shadow turned and she would have swallowed if she could on seeing the added appendage in his silhouette.

She heard him step closer and would have whimpered if she could have. His warm, round head pressed up against her enflamed labia.

"Please," she moaned in his mind.

"Please, what?" he replied.

"Please, take me. Make me yours. Make me your mate, your lover, your whore. Fill me with your seed and make me with-child."

He pushed slowly into her; his cock intruded perhaps an inch into her already glistening tunnel.

Though there were no words, her moan of ecstasy reverberated in his head and her inner gasp at him stopping almost made him chuckle.

"Please, my Martin," she moaned. "You have caught me, now make me yours."

He released her head, but nothing more. He slid in another inch.

"Yesss..." she hissed at feeling him go further. She turned over her shoulder to see his lusty smile.

"Are you mine?" he asked.

"You know I am," she panted. "Now please, please, please, stick that cock in me all the way."

"Like this?" he asked as he thrust entirely within her.

"Oh God, yes!" she yelped. Even over the water, her voice echoed against the rocks.

Martin released her body and she pushed back into him. She bent her supple back and reached back over her shoulder to wrap a hand around his head.

"Take me, Martin," she moaned. "You've caught me, now take what's yours."

Their bodies began a slow, insistent rhythm and she yelped as his cock expanded within her.

* * * *

Aimée was livid.

She had awoken from their nap to the feeling of Claude nuzzling her neck, his cock nestled between her ass cheeks and pushing insistently.

How dare he?

This... this bastard who had gotten Brana with child.

This Oedipus who had slept with their mother... who had let their mother service him before turning to Aimée.

"Get away from me, Claude," she growled angrily.

"Come on, Aimée," he insisted.

"No, I'm not in the mood."

"Since when are you not in the mood?" she said, teasingly.

It was true, she had never denied him, not in their time on the Siren, and certainly not since they were mated. He flipped her around and pinned her playfully to the mattress.

"Since, right now!"

Her hand escaped his grasp and he was met with a stinging slap to his face.

The next thing he knew he was grappling with empty air.

"You'll need to catch me to prove you deserve me."

These words sounded in his mind. The voice definitely belonged to Aimée, but he could not tell where she was. This was unusual in itself. Generally, the Seven were aware of every other partner's location regardless of distance. For Aimée to be so hidden meant that she was intentionally blocking them.

Claude was off on his search. The dorms, the fort, Seven Mile Canyon, and so on.

It was during his search that Aimée warned her mother off.

After searching in perhaps twenty places, Claude had a sudden moment of inspiration.

He knew where he could find her, and how he was going to make her pay. Her slap had awakened something in him. She was no longer his mate, she was his prey, and his goal was to dominate her in ways she would never forget.

* * * *

Aimée was hovering. She was high over the Atlantic as near to the spot as she could possibly get. It was where she and Claude had almost taken each other. There were few clouds this day, and she hovered there in the sunlight, looking down at relatively calm ocean.

She could not explain her emotions, other than that she was livid with Claude. Yes, Brana was part of the picture, but for the most part she had this odd primal anger that he would assume she was his.

Illogical, yes. She was arguably the more randy of the two. But something had snapped in her mind that morning and it was something that she could not seem to reason with. She would

This was what Galen had sensed. When he had last looked into Frederique's system, he had noticed some profound changes. Yes, their bodies were the most sophisticated, efficient and amazing organisms he had ever examined. When viewed in terms of technology, it was like the human body was the stone wheel, the Afflicted body was a horse drawn cart, and the Seven were flying machines which were yet to be invented. However, when he looked into Frederique he saw marvelous cocktail of hormones. As sophisticated as they were, there was a mating cycle coming upon the seven that was not that different from a cat or dog in heat, or another wild animal. He wasn't sure how the mating frenzy would manifest itself, but he was certain it wouldn't be civilized.

That was exactly what was happening to the first pair. Like a lioness or a she-wolf, both Glennis and Aimée were determined that their mate should have to fight to claim their bodies.

Aimée remained suspended in the air. Though she was angry, she was also aroused in ways she'd never felt. Her pussy was practically dripping with lubrication and her breasts felt like they were on fire from the need to have a man's lips upon them.

She heard a whistle and couldn't quite pinpoint it. She turned to the West... and it was too late. Claude came ripping through the air with the speed of a falcon and collided with her before she could deplace.

"Let me go," she growled between her teeth as the two of them began plummeting toward the ocean.

Her hand lashed out and swiped at his cheek. Four angry trails of blood followed where she scratched him, but rather than drive him away it only served to make him more angry.

"What right have you?" he growled back. "We are mated, this is my right!"

They continued tumbling.

"What right? You don't deserve anything, yet. Do you think because you can pour your seed into the belly of someone of another kind that gives you the right to take me?"

Still, they were falling. Claude was blocking her from deplacing and had her hands pulled tightly into his. Though she tried kicking, he pulled her in tight to him. She could feel his enflamed, angry cock pushing into her hip.

"I have every right," he snarled.

"No, you don't!"

The ocean approached at an alarming rate.

He pulled her into a rough kiss and cursed when he came away with a bleeding lip from where she bit him.

Though she was strong, she could only keep him from her. She knew she couldn't escape.

"I'll fuck you right here," he cursed. "I'll take you in the air, as I did so long ago."

"You will never do that!" she retorted between clenched teeth.

The ocean was almost there. Though they were invincible, they would doubtless be injured when they hit.

"Claude!" she suddenly cried out, seeing that they were within moments of smacking into the salty water.

SPLASH!

The world went dark and they did crash into water, but it wasn't salty.

Aimée came spluttering up from the foamy bubbles and took in her surroundings. It was their pool back in Morocco. It was the place they had spent countless hours in, in the innocence of their youth. Claude was sitting at the edge of the pool with an angry look on his face. The scratches she had left were nearly healed over.

"How did we get here?" she gasped, momentarily forgetting her anger because of the sudden shock.

"I took us here," he said in calm but menacing tones. "And don't try to deplace. I switched on a dampener that Martin installed last week."

He dropped into the water and started wading toward her.

"Now Claude," she said, softly in a tone she hoped would soothe him. "You seem upset. Let's talk through this."

"There's nothing to talk about," he said. "There's no sort of talk that can solve this problem."

He had reached her and he yanked her to him. His arms felt like iron as he crushed her body to his and pulled her into a lip-bruising kiss.

"Why here?" she murmured. The fight had gone out of her.

"I've been thinking," he said. "All of that wasted time. Why did it take awakening on the Siren for me to take you? Mother and father were often busy with their own diversions when we lived here. How many times could I have taken you in this very pool?"

"Father would have known," she whispered. "And this was before, remember? This was before he was accepting of the needs of The Afflicted."

Claude's massive member was poised at her entrance. She couldn't deny him any longer.

"But who would have told him?" Claude whispered in her ear. "He would have only known if we'd have told him. Would you have told him, sister?"

He pushed into her. She whimpered from pleasure.

"I..." started Aimée.

"Would you?"

He slid another three inches in. Aimée felt as though her entire body was being filled with his cock.

"No, brother," she mewed. "I wish... I wish we would have known how beautiful this was. I would have let you take me every... mmmfff... every day. Every night... every time father's back was turned, I would have given myself to you."

"That's better," said Claude, burying himself entirely in her hungry cunt. "You do need me, don't you?"

"So... much," she purred.

The slowly raised up out of the water and he slid in even deeper. Then, with his masterful control over his body, he let loose one long, steaming burst of cum into her inner chamber.

The energy and pleasure that shot through her body caused her eyes to roll back in her head and a desperate moan to bubble from her throat.

"What are you?" he growled.

"Your cumslut," she purred. "I'm your horny, desperate, slutty, cumslut of a sister."

"What else are you?" he rumbled into her ear.

"I'm... I'm the mother of your future child."

"That's right!" he roared.

His cock slammed into her so hard she saw stars. Her hips reacted in kind and they began to fuck in earnest.

* * * *

Abby awoke and sensed that something was amiss with her bloodsisters, but she was too preoccupied with her own worries to pay attention.

Jacob was awoken by a tearful Abby.

"Jacob, don't you love me?" she whispered.

"I... what?" he asked. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked at her in confusion. "Abby, of course I do. How can you ask that?"

"If you really love me, why didn't you take me back in the mountain?"

"Because it was against the law," said Jacob. "We were already playing with fire. If we had taken each other as mates before they found us, we could have been executed by the Council."

"Excuses, excuses," she said. "I just don't understand. You're my brother and my mate. We wasted all of that time when we could have been mates."

"But, even beyond the Council, we wouldn't have our other mates now if we had... and we would have lost the war against Arnet and the Elders would have eradicated the Afflicted. Do you need more reasons?"

"Those reasons don't matter. We also wouldn't have had your damned bastard girl by Jessamine if we'd have been mated."

"Please don't speak of Tara that way," said Jacob. "She's the most beautiful child you could ever see, you say so yourself."

"I... I still just don't understand. That day, you had me captive. You could have tied me to that wonderful chair and had your way with me in every way imaginable. You could have placed your teeth to my neck, or my breasts, and known me as a mate forever. You must not love me, or you would have."
Jacob was also upset. He was also succumbing to the illogic of this new mating phase, as well as responding to his empath sister's emotions.

"I wished I would have," he sighed. "I can't tell you how many nights I laid awake in the dorms. After they separated us, I stroked myself endlessly, always fantasizing about what if I'd taken you that time."

"Mmm... really?" she said, somewhat mollified.

"Oh yes. Remember the chair with the restraints? I would have done it there. I would have bound your hands and feet and I would have bit your neck while I was fucking you senseless."

"Would have," sobbed Abby, the emotions returning again. "But you didn't!"

Whumph!

Abby was suddenly lying on cold leather cushions.

The surroundings were familiar, but somewhat removed. It was like a sense of déjà vu, like she'd been there, but not in this way.

She was so busy looking around; she didn't even notice the restraints being placed on her wrists.

"Where is this?" she pondered.

"You don't know?" asked Jacob's voice.

She looked up. There was his charming face. This was all so familiar, the smells, the sounds... but there was something not right about it. Her mind was so foggy, so confused, none of this made sense.

Leather cuffs were now tied on her ankles and she was held with her legs wide.

"Where... how...?" she murmured.

Then, for the first time in months, she borrowed someone else's eyes.

Suddenly, she was looking down at herself through her brother's eyes. Yes, now it all made sense.

They were back in the mountain safe room, where they had been captive for many months. This was the very place she'd just been talking about... and seeing it through Jacob's eyes, this was the very position they'd been talking about.

"Oh, Jacob, we... ooonnfff!"

His cock glided into her and she gave an involuntary scream.

"Is this what you wanted?" he said. "You wished that I would have taken you like this?"

"No... I mean yes... I mean, oh fuck Jacob!"

He rammed fully into her. She longed to wrap her legs around his waist but she couldn't. They were tied to the stirrups in the sex chair they had spent many hours in.

"You were saying you wish I would have taken you as a mate?"

"I... I did, but we already are. Ooh, yes, Jacob. Drink from me. Taste me. Taste my milk. It's all for you, my brother, my lover. All for you."

Jacob sucked hungrily at her breasts and with each sip he felt stronger and more aroused.

"Just think... mmmfff, Jacob, mmmfff," she moaned between thrusts. "We might still be here today. Mated and just fucking each other, not knowing anything else in the world."

"Well, I can't make you my mate again," he said, thrusting his growing manhood into her. "But I can bind you to me further."

"You can?" she said. "But how?"

He thrust again and let a hot burst coat her insides. He waited for her to catch on to his meaning.

"Oh!" she said suddenly. "Yes, my Jacob. Do it. Let us create a new life together."

* * * *

The Havasu Tribe had many mystical tales around the falls, but none came close to those told in the next few months after Martin and Glennis chose that location.

Just as Martin had started fucking Glennis from behind, a young Havasu couple had approached the lower pools with similar intentions. However, upon hearing the pleasured cries echoing through the canyon, they were sure that there were angry (or aroused) spirits nearby and chose elsewhere to pursue their own pleasures.

Martin took Glennis from behind at first. They had been standing on the bank of the falls and she'd been able to put her hands on the bank and provide the perfect angle to let him plunder her deeply with each and every stroke. He had cum once, but now she found a grassy spot on the bank to let him take her in a way that she could see his face.

Her naughty vocabulary had returned with a vengeance.

"Come on. Fuck that pussy. Fuck that pussy, Martin. Fill me with that big cock. Fill every part of my cunt with that big tool. Come! On!"

Martin responded in kind.

"You sound like you need it, my slut," he growled. "Do you need that big fuckstick filling you up? Does my little whore need a cock? Does she?"

"So... much," she grunted.

Martin pulled all the way out and let his cock expand a full inch before he began the next thrust. Glennis's squeal came out in a high-pitched animalistic tone as she felt his expanded cock push into nerves that sang throughout her entire body.

"Oh, Martin... please. Again! Fill my cunt again!"

Martin complied and made her squeal once more. His long, deep strokes soon had her gasping and her gutter vocabulary left her because she could not utter the words any longer.

Her feet wrapped around his waist and pulled him into her with each thrust. Her hands held his face as she looked up at the mate who was fucking her... rutting her... taking her like the animal she had become.

All she could feel was his cock splitting her open. All she could see were his hungry eyes, looking down at her with an undeniable sense of ownership. All she could hear was the ragged breathing in her mouth, the pounding of her heart in her chest, and her lovers' deep groans.

The next climax caught her entirely by surprise. Her back arched and her hands grasped. Had there been sheets below them, they would have surely been shredded. As it was, she came up with handfuls of grass and sand as her hips bucked and her pussy tightened around his massive shaft, sucking at it for what it needed.

"Now!" she cried. Her mouth could not form the words, but her brain was able to beg him to fill her.

Martin fell down upon her and cried his own scream as cock unleashed what was surely the most violent orgasm of his young life.

She was crushed beneath his weight, but even that brought comfort as she felt his cock begin pumping hot and slick streams of seed into her. His hips rocked back and forth, helping him shoot more and more... and more cum into her which she welcomed with moans and tears.

"Yes, my Martin. Yes!"

When he finished, she felt his sweat pouring down on her.

"Where did that come from?" he gasped. It had already been five minutes, but he was just getting his breath back.

"I don't know, but I liked it," she giggled.

He started to remove himself, but she stopped him.

"No, darling. Stay inside of me. Fuck me again. Fuck me as many times as you like, but don't let a drop of you spill out of me. Not one drop."

* * * *

Claude and Aimée had settled into a deck chair beside the pool in Morocco. She was astride him with both feet on the ground and she was riding the full length of his elongated cock for all she was worth. The echoes of their fucking were reverberating across the tiled room.

"Every day," she whispered. "I would have had you down here every day when we lived here."

It was a fantasy, of course. They hadn't ever thought of each other in such a way until they awakened, but it was certainly good fodder for fantasizing about what they might have done.

Claude had cum twice within her already, and the cum-buzz had her feeling practically drunk. He, too, was somewhat intoxicated from the delicious milk she had been feeding him throughout their session.

She continued riding up and down his slickened pole.

"Are you still jealous of Brana?" he asked.

"Hmm... a little," she mused. "I can't explain it, either, because I love her as a sister, and I love my little niece desperately."

"What about Mother?" he asked. "Or Abby or Glennis?"

"I can't explain it," she said. "But we are so connected, I find it impossible to be jealous of them. That would be like being jealous of myself, or part of myself, anyway."

"So... you wouldn't have objected if mother would have caught us fucking down here and then joined us?"

"Well... I wouldn't have been jealous, but I might have been envious. I mean, it's not like 18-year-old me could compete with that body."

"You had pluses of your own, sister," he moaned between thrusts. "And now, your body is so stunning I could never say which of you is more amazing."

She sank down on his shaft and groaned upon feeling him fill so much of her insides.

"Thank you, Claude," she murmured. "I'm sorry I was so crazy earlier. I don't know what came over me."

"That's alright," said Claude. "I was a bit possessed, myself."

"It's funny," she said. "All I could think about was getting with child. That was the only thought on my mind."

"And now?" he asked.

"Not so much," she said. "The only way I can describe it is that I would not complain if I got pregnant, but I'm not sure it is time yet. I was caught up in the heat of the moment, but I wouldn't mind a few more years before I take that leap."

"Pity," said Claude. "Because I was ready.

"I know, love," she whispered in his ear. "But be patient. Besides, I'm not the only one you might get with child today."

She rose up on his cock then fell down with a moan.

"Now fuck me, brother," she growled, "fuck your sister senseless and fill her up with that delicious cum."

Claude did just that. The finish came rather suddenly. Faster and faster, she dropped down on him and he thrust into her. Soon, his hips were a blur of motion and as she screamed he grabbed her waist and let his cum shoot upward. The orgasm that followed left them both dizzy and exhausted.

* * * *

Jacob had been fucking Abby for forty-five solid minutes. He had started with a slow, steady rhythm and all he had done since was slowly increase the pace.

Abby had experience two 'identifiable' orgasms, but the last fifteen minutes had been one solid plateau of pleasure that she had no choice but to surrender to.

"Jacob," she whispered. "Jacob." She said about louder. "Jacob!"

He finally paused and had to shake his head to remember where he was.

"Oh, Abby. I... I didn't.... wow, how long have we been going?"

"Quite a while," she whispered. "Jacob, do you... do you want to? I know what I said, but we were caught up in some sort of frenzy. Are you ready for this? For what we might do?"

"I have only dreamed of it since we became mates," he said softly. "Of course I'm ready."

"Me too,' she said. "So get me out of this contraption and take me to the bed. If we're going to make a baby, let's do it right."

He released her and then scooped her up into his arms. Laying her down gently into the bed, he climbed atop her and buried his rod deeply inside of her one more time.

"Now, Jacob," she whispered. "Let us remember our parents. Let's make the grandchild they never got to see."

* * * *

All this while, Frederique had been waiting as patiently as she could. She could sense her mates and their activities, and knew she should allow them their time together.

Martin and Glennis returned first. Their skin was glowing with a light sunburn and their bodies were covered in grass and sand. Frederique looked on them with amusement as they walked with tired steps straight into the great bathing pool. A few moments later, Jacob and Abby materialized. Abby was in Jacob's arms and he carried her tenderly into the water. The four of them formed a tight square and looked at each other with loving and admiration.

Perhaps five minutes later, Claude and Aimée returned.

Frederique knew. She could sense the tiny lives already taking shape in Glennis and Abby's bellies. She also knew that no such life was evident in her daughter's womb.

"I'm not ready," said Aimée. "Besides, now I'll be able to take care of the men in your final months when you aren't in the mood."

Leave it to Aimée to offer such a simple, pragmatic, yet bold answer to her decision.

Aimée went to the bathing pool and joined her other mates. Claude, however, had a hungry look in his eyes that made it clear what his expectations were. If Frederique had any illusions about making him pursue her, she quickly gave them up. Claude's demeanor was of one who was not to be trifled with.

He took Frederique, his mother, by the hand and led her to the edge of the bathing pool.

"Clean me," he ordered.

"Yes, my mate," said Frederique, bowing her head in acknowledgement.

She took a soft cloth from a basket and knelt beside the pool to dip it in the warm water. However, the scent of sex upon his hanging cock was too much. She started to wash his thighs, but when it came to his manly flesh, no cloth and water would do.

She leaned forward and gave it a gentle lick. The taste of his seed, mixed with the juices of her daughter brought a dizzying rush to her brain. Slowly, she cleaned every last inch of her son's cock with her tongue and lips so that by the time she was done, he was fully erect. His rod stood tall and proud, hanging in tight to his belly all the way over his navel.

She finished washing his limbs and his chest, and then wrapped her arms around his neck.

Gone was the strong Frederique, the warrior. Gone was Frederique the mother. Claude had continued transforming over the past few months and his strong arms called to her. Now, she was only Frederique the lover... hoping to service her mate and to have his seed find its way into her womb.

Her lips rose slowly up to his and his arms pulled her close as their lips and tongues met.

"Take me," she whispered in his mind.

"Soon," he replied. "But first, you need to do something for me."

He sent an image into her head. She blushed, but nodded in agreement.

The five other mates emerged from the pool and dried themselves. As a unit, they went to the large collection of beds in the center of the chamber. Aimée, Jacob, and Abby took to one bed. Glennis and Martin went to the one next to them.

Claude took the center bed and laid there. Propped up on the pillows, he looked very much like the governors who had once waited there for courtesans, virgins, and wives... though no governor had ever been so muscular or attractive.

Frederique arrived with a wooden box and sat at the end of the bed. The box was very familiar, for it held her oils.

It now seemed like an entirely different lifetime that she had used these same oils in front of the mirror in her cabin on the Siren. The effect was the same, however, and she looked even more lovely as she prepared herself for Claude. With fingers dipped in oil, she coated her skin and massaged the scented unguents into her breasts.

With more oil, she let her fingers explore down below and Claude could barely contain himself as he watched his mother shudder from self-induced pleasure.

At last, she looked up with a satisfied smile.

"Enough?" she asked.

"Perfect," replied her son.

She set her box of oils aside and crawled onto the bed... stalking her son in a kittenish sort of way.

He sat up, his massive cock standing full and proud between his legs. She climbed into his lap and lowered her oiled and slickened tunnel upon him.

"You were my son, but now you are my lord and master," she moaned as she felt him spread her open. "Take me as you will."

The other mates took no offense. Jacob and Martin both knew that Frederique was their mate, but her heart most belonged to her son."

With no effort, they slowly ascended into the air over the bed. They were both fliers and airborne lovemaking came to them as instinctively as swimming to a fish. They were soon horizontal and Frederique was gliding her body up and down his full length with increasing moans as his staff of flesh rippled through her belly.

The others could only watch in wonder at the beauty of the coupling happening over their heads. While they watched, they stroked and massaged each other but this was not the time for their own lovemaking. This was for Frederique and Claude, alone.

He then gave her a gift. He linked minds with her and showed her, in minute detail, what it had felt like the first time she had pleasured him with his hand.

"Oh my, I did do a good job," she whispered. "How could I not with such a fine cock in my hand?"

They fucked harder and faster... and then gentler and slower... for well over an hour they spun in the air, Frederique coming several times and Claude spraying the occasional burst into her to enervate her. He also drank from her quite frequently, the pull of his lips on her breasts being one of the most rewarding things she had ever felt.

They increased pace again and she felt the urgency in his thrusts growing.

"Fuck me! Fuck me!" she growled between clenched teeth as her hips met every motion of his athletic torso.

Suddenly, she became acutely aware of her body in a way she had never known. His cock buried deeply inside of her and she knew exactly how she wished things to proceed.

The tip of his great member was pressed directly against her cervix. She could feel it there, and in a way that no mortal woman had ever known, she willed that tight muscle to open just a fraction.

"Don't move, my mate," she said. "Stay right there."

She could sense it. She could reach into her body and already felt the warm seed finding its way.

"Now!" she cried in his mind. This was not a mere mental cry. This was a plea to his entire body to release, and release he did.

Claude threw back his head and gave a primal yowl as the cum shot up his cock. Jet after jet poured into the opening she had made and the hot stream of life surged directly into her hungry womb.

"One," she said to herself, feeling a divine 'click' in her system.

More. More. MORE seed filled her and she physically felt her womb expanding to hold all of what he gave her.

"Two", she whispered in her own mind. Another click and now she could only hold him and scream as the shared ecstasy brought on by her son's seed tipped her into a dizzying orgasm that she could not describe if she wanted to.

Soon, it was all blackness.

She awoke in Claude's arms. They were lying on the huge bed. Claude's strong arm was around her and the rest of her mates were gathered nearby. Abby's gentle mind reached out to reassure her. Frederique looked up to see the beautiful redhead on the next bed over.

"How long?" she whispered.

"Only a few minutes, dearest," said Abby. "You succumbed entirely to pleasure. Not a bad way to lose consciousness, I dare say."

"I fully agree," said Frederique.

Frederique reached down and felt her belly. There was a knot the size of a fist there and she knew it was her womb, still full of Claude's volumes of seed.

She knew something more; there were two lives growing in there; a boy and a girl. She had given up her son and daughter in a way, one was now her blood-sister and the other was now her lover. Now, there were two more children on the way. Her son and daughter, by Claude, would be born into a new race.

What adventures were to come, Frederique could only imagine. These children, as well as those of Glennis and Abby would soon join with the three children already born. They would age and grow, and join their parents in new endeavors.

Aimée was with them again. Claude was between and Aimée had her head on her brother's right shoulder.

Frederique snuggled into his left side and kissed him once more. Her hand stayed on her belly.

As she fell asleep she had a curious vision.

In her dream, she was stroking her son's cock. She pumped him harder and harder and when he climaxed, his cum shot higher and higher into the air.

In that dream, she watched the life dancing in that seed as it spread out across the heavens. The sparkling cells turned into stars in a sky that she knew was real.

No constellations she saw in this sky were familiar to her. However, she knew that someday she would stand beneath that sky with her new race.




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