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The Afflicted Ch. 09

By: ShyChiWriter



Slight warning, this is a longer chapter with a lot of plot. So, if you like the story, have fun. If you're just here for the sex, you might need to skip around a bit. Votes and comments are always appreciated. Also, please do add the story or me to your favorites list if you are so inclined. Also, do check out my other stories here on Literotica. Thanks, as always, for reading.

* * * *

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.


The Afflicted Ch. 09



"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.




The Afflicted Ch. 09



"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?




The Afflicted Ch. 09



"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.




The Afflicted Ch. 09



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."

* * * *

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