Page 21 of Benet

“When you meet this Alpha you must tell him the blood is the magic,” she said, turning partway toward him. “For what he desires most. His mate will need his blood.”

“I don’t understand, my lady, but if I am ever blessed enough to find an Alpha, I’ll tell him.”

Now she turned all the way and he caught a glimpse of her face, beautiful beyond imagining, austere, regal. Dmitri gasped as if he’d been struck by lightning and struggled to maintain his balance. Truly a man couldn’t look fully upon the Great Mother and remain in this life. He understood what the healer had meant now when he would utter the pronouncement.

“This message is for you as well,” she said, raising one hand as if casting a blessing. “Don’t hesitate when the need arises.”

“I—I won’t. The blood is the magic,” he repeated, confused but determined not to disappoint her.

“You’ve done well here,” she said in a kindly tone. “Your honor is intact and you’ve followed my commandments even in exile. You’re a worthy son of the original Badari. Your ancestors would be proud. I’m proud.”

With a rush of terror such as he hadn’t experienced before in any situation, Dmitri realized she was walking toward him. Hastily he lowered his head and her fingertips brushed across his hair as she passed. The caress left him paralyzed and the world faded out around him.

He came awake in his bed in a convulsion, talons and fangs deployed, a growl on his lips as he shredded the silken sheets with his motion. “The blood is the magic,” he said in a voice he scarcely recognized as his own. Shaking, he crawled from the bed and staggered to the kitchen, where he poured himself a stiff shot of the best feelgood and drank it in one long gulp. The glass fell from his hand and shattered on the tile floor.

His beast snarled and Dmitri allowed himself to slide to the floor, where he sat shaking his head and trying to remember each tiny detail from the vision. The Great Mother hadn’t exactly answered his prayer nor had she provided any answers except her mysterious statement about blood. He gave up trying to parse what she might have meant. He was no healer, to stand in close proximity to her and translate her dictates for the other Badari.

One thing he did know with unshakable truth—the moment where he’d need to take action upon her veiled warning must be close at hand. As the sun rose over Throne he vowed to be ready for anything. He’d allowed himself to backslide somewhat from the strictest observance of Badari pack law over the centuries he’d been here. The broken feelgood glass shards all around him spoke eloquently to his lapses. But now the time had come for him to be all Badari once more, not a partially assimilated Outlier and he would be equal to the task.

He would not fail in whatever battle the Great Mother foretold.

Chapter Eight

Benet had knocked out a satisfying, grueling practice today, finishing with power lifting in the athletes’ village weight room. He was heading to his apartment in a satisfied mood, on top of which Dmitri had sent him a com he expected tonight’s event to end early and he’d be coming to visit Benet for a while. Since Dmitri’s life currently revolved around Marushka, Benet hoped his friend would be bringing her with him. He saw so little of Marushka now and there was no chance to be intimate so he’d take whatever snippets of time he could get with her and be grateful.

The area of the village where his apartment was located seemed strangely empty tonight and Benet’s instincts fired the closer he got to his building. Even so, the men waiting managed to take him by surprise. There must have been ten thugs wielding clubs and although he killed the first man to run at him, the others piled on and he knew he was in deep trouble. With no one to watch his six, he couldn’t defend himself adequately and although he sent more than one assailant reeling away clutching a broken arm or howling in pain from a direct blow to a sensitive area, he was getting pummeled unmercifully.

The attackers were mostly silent and once they got him on the ground the blows rained down, augmented with kicks from heavily booted feet. He curled up to protect his vital organs as best he could and clung to consciousness. There were no sirens or screams. No one was out strolling or running errands and no one was going to call for help for him.

When the remaining attackers withdrew, taking their dead and wounded with them, one man squatted beside Benet, yanking his head off the ground by the hair to get his attention. Benet could hardly see him for the blood pouring from his various wounds.

“Prince Vasili sends his regards,” the man said with a laugh. “Let’s see you use your magical powers of healing to recover from this, Badari. The betting is you can’t, odds are high you aren’t even the same species as Dmitri, despite what he and Nichevsky are saying.”

“Fuck you,” Benet said despite his split lip and broken jaw.

His enemy allowed Benet’s head to drop against the hard ground. One final kick to the ribs for good measure and the man sprinted away.

Benet didn’t know how long he lay still but he was getting cold and the growing realization crept over him that he was going to die in this spot if he didn’t move. He refused to die in the street like a dog. Getting to his feet unaided was impossible so he crawled in fits and starts until he reached the building. He was able to leverage himself to his feet against the wall despite the pain spiking in every inch of his body and got through the door. The halls were as deserted as the grounds had been but he wasn’t expecting help now. Obviously residents in this area had been warned off tonight. He was going in and out of consciousness but the innate stubbornness which had served him so well all his life kept him moving until he got to his apartment and opened the door. Then he toppled to the floor, completely out of strength.

His thoughts as he shivered and the world grew ever darker around him were of Marushka and he prayed to Lords of Space for her not to be the one who found his body.

* * *

Tonight’s entertainment at the imperial palace had been a play, to be followed by refreshments and mingling. Dmitri had been restless the entire evening, his beast snarling and prowling and insisting they needed to be somewhere else. In his long centuries living in Outlier he’d attended many such performances and while they usually bored him, he’d never felt this kind of agitation before. Marushka kept shooting glances at him as he fidgeted behind her chair.

“What is the matter with you?” she asked when the applause for the end of the final act would cover her words.

“I need to go. Something’s wrong,” Dmitri said. “I know it. You’ll be fine for the rest of the evening, stick close to the empress and her ladies in waiting. I’m out of here.”

She snagged his arm. “I don’t understand any of this.”

“I think the goddess is telling me I’m needed elsewhere right now. Please, devochka, let me be on my way.” His talons were close to deploying of their own volition, which he’d rarely experienced before, not to be used against her but in response to the agitation roiling his nervous system.

Eyebrows raised, she noted the tips of his massive claws were visible. “You can’t display those in here.” Marushka kept her hold on him and got them both walking quickly toward the nearest exit, which led to a garden. Once they were outside, she stopped. “Does this have to do with Benet?”

“It must,” Dmitri said, all his worries crystallizing. “I think he’s in trouble.”

“Come on then, there’s no time to waste.” She picked up the massive embroidered and embellished skirt of her gown and broke into a run, heading through the garden and toward the groundcar parking lot. “We can take the vehicle assigned to me—it’ll be quicker than going to the village on foot.”

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