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his feet. His dart gun was in his belt, his right hand hovering near the butt.
"Only a mutie could have known it was me," he said quietly, looking around the
chamber suspiciously. When he was satisfied he and Krysty were alone, he
perched on the edge of her bed, one foot dangling.
"Who else could it be? Your father? To move so quiet? Your mother? I think
not.
Her liking for jolt would keep her to her room at night, unless she had some
vital errand." Krysty stared at Jabez as she spoke, looking for a clue that he
knew about
Rachel's nocturnal visit to Ryan.
But the pallid face betrayed nothing. The distorted eye blinked furiously. His
left hand toyed with the beautiful amethyst set in gold at the end of the long
chain about his throat.
"Blood and bones! You are one of& If you were not marked for death I could& "
Krysty felt her pulse rate rising. There was something truly sinister about
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the young man who sat so relaxed on her bed. There weren't many reasons why he
might come to see her at this hour. And none of them were good.
"What is it?"
"I came to see you. To see if my brief and interrupted memory of you was
correct." He paused, but she didn't reply. "And it is," he concluded lamely.
"You've seen me. Now you can go."
"Ah, no. That's stupid of you. Stupid to anger me."
"You know I'll be dead by tomorrow, lordling," she mocked. "You think any
threat can frighten me? Go and sleep with your mother, like a good little boy.
Go
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Jabez drew the dart gun and leveled it at her. "It can be tomorrow. It can be
now, you flap-mouth slut! It can be easy or I can make it hard."
Krysty continued to deliberately provoke him, feeling her own tension
mounting, knowing she was flirting with an instant chilling.
And not caring.
"Hard, Jabez? I can't believe you can make anything hard, least of all your
pathetic cock."
"Bitch!" he screamed, taking a half step toward her and squeezing the trigger
of the blaster. But his feet slipped on the edge of the large carpet and threw
his aim.
The cluster of darts hissed venomously across the room, burying themselves in
the door of the wardrobe, missing Krysty by a hand's breadth.
She backed away from him, whispering to herself, watching Jabez Cawdor through
slitted eyes. "Earth Mother, help me. Aid me now, Gaia! Help me and give the
strength and the power."
"Prayers won't help you, slut! I'm going to open your belly and rip out your
tripes.
But first I'm going to show you how a Cawdor can fuck. Sit on the bed and keep
your hands still. No, take off your clothes. Fast! Before I waste you, here
and now."
Moving as slowly as she could, Krysty concentrated on slipping into the trance
of power, the way her mother, Sonja, had taught her. The dark blue top came
off, revealing her splendid breasts.
Still chanting the invocation to the Earth Mother, the girl started to unzip
her pants, slipping off the low boots and kicking them into a corner of the
room.
"Faster!" The slit barrel of the dart blaster gaped at her as Jabez waved it
angrily.
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"Give me all the power. Let me strive for life," she was whispering, eyes
closed now, feeling the familiar surge. An almost indescribable sensation
flowered in her loins, spreading like a slow fire through her belly and thighs
into her chest and arms and down to her ankles. It finally filled her head
with a scything hiss, as though her brain were floating. She felt unbelievably
light and potent.
Jabez Pendragon Cawdor, baron designate of the ville of Front Royal, saw none
of that. He saw a sexually attractive young woman with a wonderful body, who
had stripped naked at his bidding and sat patiently on the big bed, waiting
for him to take his pleasure.
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He licked his lips as he stared fixedly at the junction of Krysty's thighs, at
the curling nest of blazing pubic hair that tangled and concealed and aroused.
"Lie down," he said, voice trembling.
"Don't," she said, now calm, her breathing steady and relaxed. It would be
better if
Jabez left the room without touching her. But if it happened, then she was
ready for it.
"Beg for mercy, whore. It adds to my pleasure. Beg." Clumsily, holding the
dart gun in his right hand, the young man shrugged off the rich velvet jacket,
kicking the slippers to one side. "I don't hear you begging, you useless mutie
slag."
"Come then," Krysty whispered, holding her arms out to Jabez.
"Blood and bones! You'll weep for death this very night." He unlaced the satin
pants and tossed them to the floor, grinning as her eyes fell on his
near-erection.
The blaster was steady in his hand as he knelt on the bed and leaned over her.
Krysty was ready.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
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WITH A SHORT, STABBING BLOW from the heel of her hand, Krysty Wroth crushed
Jabez's larynx, rendering his vocal cords useless. It was a savage and
crippling attack that flung him onto the floor, his mouth flopping open in a
silent, anguished scream. His eyes opened wide, the drooping lid flicking up
like a window blind suddenly released.
Krysty's most awesome mutie trait was her ability, under certain
circumstances, to call on a reserve of incredible muscular power for a short
time. The cost was dreadful, and always left her exhausted and drained for
hours after. Therefore it was an ability she hardly ever used. But she knew
the baron's son intended to rape her in the most violent and humiliating way,
and then kill her. She didn't have to be a doomie to see that.
Her right hand jabbed at the arm that held the dart gun, snapping both radius
and ulna above the wrist. One splintered end of bone protruded through the
skin, surrounded by flags of torn and bloody flesh. The fingers opened in a
spasm of shock and pain, dropping the dart gun to the stones, where it landed
with a hollow, metallic clang.
Krysty was barely in control of her own body. The devastating power of the
Earth
Mother was released in such a rush that it almost blanked her mind: all that
reg-
istered was that she had to kill this man in the most absolute and total
manner.
Jabez struggled to his feet, chest heaving as he battled for breath. His eyes
stared blankly at the staggeringly beautiful woman who stood across the bed
from him.
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