Blood Domination (Page 12)

What I found was a warren of rooms and offices. Had they promoted everybody? I didn’t see any spaces for the common herd. Nobody was getting a corner office, that much I knew since the temple was almost round. The sound of voices chanting drew me down a long narrow hall and then down more stone steps into inky blackness. Beneath the temple, I found spaces for the common herd—there were multiple levels with mazes of sleeping cells and rooms on each level, many of them holding sleeping priests. I discovered that night that there were more priests there than the local authorities or media suspected. The darkness throughout the lower cells and cubicles might have discouraged anyone else, but I could see just fine, no flashlights or torches needed, thanks.

I found the torches eventually, along with the chanting priests; there were burning torches placed at all four corners of an altar. A man was chained naked to its stained marble surface. It stank of blood, both old and fresh. This was a regular occurrence, I could tell. There was no mercy or clemency for this poor soul; he’d already been tortured. Burns and slices that oozed blood covered his chest and arms, while something had been branded across his face right over the eyes, rendering him sightless. Some schmuck was drawing out a lengthy, sharp knife as six of his best buddies, all dressed in the red robes of the priesthood, recited an ignorant litany that the sacrifice would feed the god. As of now, that god was on my shit list.

Schmuck with the knife was the first to go; he didn’t have time to squeak before his head, along with a lot of his blood, was splattered against the stone wall that surrounded the circular chamber. The six remaining priests all tried to flee through the door at the same time, making it ridiculously easy to pick them off. They still hadn’t seen their enemy and that was fine with me. They were all relieved of their heads; it was obvious they weren’t using them to think with anyway.

My claws sliced right through the chains that held the prisoner and he moaned just before I turned him to mist and got the hell out of there. I felt his fear and pain as I misted away faster than I’d ever gone anywhere before. I had no idea where the nearest hospital was and that made me want to weep. The man was probably dying but I wanted to give him as much of a chance as I could. Dragon! I sent out a shouted message. Where’s the nearest hospital from the temple?

Two miles, south and east, came the swift reply. I misted in that direction as quickly as I could. The building was taller than those surrounding it and I dived down and right through the sliding doors into the Refizani version of an emergency room. Someone was waiting for me and it surprised me greatly. Karzac was there, dressed in physician’s blue. He knew I was there, somehow, although I was still mist.

Follow me, he instructed, his mindspeech terse. He strode down a hallway as quickly as he could, turning into a room on the right.

I’m in, I sent as I zipped past Karzac. He closed and locked the door behind him. There was an examination table inside the room so I rematerialized, laying the tortured man as carefully as I could across the surface.

Karzac can multitask—he was cursing and examining the man at the same time. "Young woman, please make yourself invisible or leave. I must call for assistance. This is the Vice-Governor of the realm." Karzac was a doctor, all right. He was used to giving orders. I went immediately to mist while Karzac lifted a small communicator and shouted into it, calling for additional personnel and medical supplies. He unlocked the door, too, so they could all come inside.

Karzac was elbow deep in treating the man when I left. Misting back to the temple, I found it angrier than a kicked anthill. Three vans pulled out of a nearby rectangular building; it was a garage, I discovered. I followed the vans, thinking along the way that if the god had been hungry, I’d left him plenty to snack on.

The vans traveled northward outside the city, following a road that ran alongside the river much of the time. The last of the houses and warehouses were left behind after an hour and we traveled another hour beyond that before coming into wide farmland. Four priests stepped out of each van after pulling to a stop, and together they all walked toward an open field.

"We beg the god to come to us," one of the priests lifted his arms in prayer. He and the other eleven went to their knees in the pasture, waiting for something to come. I hovered as mist, waiting to see who (or what) the priests were waiting for. Ten minutes went by, with all the priests remaining on their knees before anything happened.

Eight men showed up. Right out of nowhere, just as I’d seen Pheligar do and what Griffin could do as well. One walked ahead of the other seven. Was that the god? I misted closer for a better look.

"You have disappointed me," that one said. He was tall—nearly as tall as Gavin, with dark hair and pale, yellow eyes. The scent that washed off him was one I’d never forget, either. If somebody else could smell more evil than that, I didn’t want to meet them. "You were to bring me the one I requested, yet here you are empty-handed while he receives treatment for his wounds. Explain this!" he shouted.

"We cannot." The one who’d invoked the god spoke, his head still bowed. "Something invisible crept past our guards."

"That is a lie. My enemy would give away his presence if he were to do such a thing," the man snarled. "Tell me and I will consider sparing your lives."

"We speak the truth." The man was terrified. He was speaking the truth. I knew that. This wasn’t much of a god if he didn’t know the truth from a lie.

"You will return to the others and inform them that they must perform better or your life and theirs will be forfeit. You will leave me now but the others must remain." The god stared speculatively at the other eleven priests.

"Of course, lord," the priest rose, bowed several times and took off swiftly across the field toward one of the vans. He was inside it and backing up when the god lost his façade of humanity. I might have shrieked if I could have, when he became a monster.

A gleaming, copper-scaled serpent he became, nearly fifty feet in length and at least three feet thick, with spikes surrounding a crest on his head, more spikes at the end of his lengthy tail, and teeth—they were many and each was long and sharp. He had two priests gulped down his thick throat before they could even contemplate running. Another two followed the first two, but they’d gotten up and tried to get away by that time.

Four was the giant snake’s limit, I guess, because he slithered back, allowing his seven apprentices to come forward. They changed, too, just not into giant serpents. These turned into something ugly, their human-like skin splitting while the ugly thing emerged, like a butterfly’s chrysalis bursting open to reveal a monster. They kept their humanoid shape but were a muddy brown in color, were completely hairless and had fangs wide-spaced in large mouths. They fell on the seven remaining priests, ripping and tearing into them. They weren’t as neat in their table manners as the serpent had been, either. The monsters clawed the priests apart before eating them, and it was difficult listening to the screams before they died.