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The Afflicted Ch. 12

By: ShyChiWriter



Votes and comments are always appreciated. Also, please do add the story or me to your favorites list if you are so inclined. 

I do have a special request this week. My life has gotten very busy these days. 

I want to make it clear, this is a repost of this story, but as I am reposting I am proofreading the story once again. All-told, the tale is over 250,000 words, so there's a lot of story, but also a lot of room for mistakes. For example, the last chapter was over 15,000 words, or a novelette in length. This week's chapter is 20k, so in the novella territory. Recently, the only comments and emails I seem to be getting are either A) Fairly abrupt and insensitive comments on how long I am taking to re-post the story, or B) Critical comments on errors people have found in the stories, even after all of the work I've put in. I will continue endeavoring to post a chapter a week, but if life gets in the way, I can only ask you for patience. 

If you do find an error (typo, name confusion, etc), please feel free to message me and I will correct it ASAP. It is a fairly simple process to submit corrections and revisions to a chapter. 

Thanks, as always, for reading. 

* * * * 

Claude, Abby, Aimée, and Jacob were led into the hearing room and each cuffed to a chair and collared. It was an unusual move, especially since three out of the four could be confined with simple shackles - but this was an unusual situation. Still, to see the four young people chained to chairs and also green from nausea from the dampeners was a disheartening sight. 

Palo and Frederique sat at a table near the edge of the room, having a very animated discussion. 

"I can argue for them," insisted Palo. 

"No, you can't," whispered Frederique. 

"I have studied law all my life and practiced it for a decade before we met. 

"Palo," hissed Frederique, "we are dealing with our children's lives here. If you could step into a mortal courtroom, I would have complete confidence in you. This is an Afflicted hearing. If we are to hope for the best outcome we need someone with centuries of experience - and here she comes." 

A stately woman with an elegant bearing entered the room. She did not try to make a grand entrance, in fact her head was down and she scarcely paid notice to anyone in the room as she crossed to their table. Yet, everyone noticed her and the room grew quiet as every head turned in her direction. 

She placed a stack of books and notes on the table and then turned to smile at Frederique. 

"Hello dear," she said. "It has been too long." 

"Hypatia!" said Frederique. "I am honored that you would offer your assistance." 

"Oh my dear, I was one of thirty Advocates who was ready to help you," said the woman. "You are Frederique, after all." 

"Hypatia, I want you to meet my new mate, Palo." 

"Charmed, Palo." 

"Pleasure to meet you," said Palo. "You were named for a great scholar." 

"Oh, he is new," said Hypatia with an amused smile. 

"Palo," said Frederique. "This is the Hypatia, the scholar of Alexandria." 

"Impossible," said Palo - though he didn't seem terribly sure of himself. "Hypatia was killed by an angry mob in the year 397." 

"Yes, I was," said Hypatia. "And that was a devilishly hard thing to stage." 

Before Paulo could say any more, Hypatia turned to notice the four youths and the room suddenly shook with her angry yell. 

"No!" she cried. "Who the hell ordered that my clients be collared?" 

The head guard crossed over to Hypatia apologetically, speaking in hushed tones. 

"Honorable Hypatia, it was the Council's orders that they..." 

"It was not the Council' orders that they be publicly tortured and humiliated. This is a mate hearing, not a fucking trial." 

"But..." 

"You will unlock those collars on each of the three," she commanded. 

"But..." 

"You will remove the dampeners," she said in a tone that was not to be ignored. "Further, you will escort them to a private room until the Council is here. You will also find a better arrangement for the empath." 

"There isn't one." 

"Oh no? Come here Franz!" she called. 

The inventor, who had been waiting in the wings, came scurrying over to Hypatia and kissed her hand affectionately. 

"Franz," she said. "Can you rig up a field here? One you suspend above her so she can hear and speak without being nauseous, but she cannot influence anyone else in the room?" 

"Yes, I believe I could," said Franz. 

"Good, do that." 

Franz hurried off for his equipment, but the head guard remained standing where he was - paralyzed by indecision. 

"Well?" Hypatia said to him. 

"Great lady, we have very specific orders, and..." 

"Listen to me," she said in a tone that was dripping with venom. "This is the most important day of their lives. Decisions surrounding their very fate will be made. They will not have those decisions made under barbaric duress. They will not be subjected to answering questions with their stomachs turning and their senses addled. If they are, I will see to it there is a trial and you will be the first person prosecuted. Now go!" 

The guard hurried to follow her orders, taking the four out of the room once again. Hypatia sat back down and began reviewing her notes. 

"Do you still want the job?" whispered Frederique to Palo. 

He held up his hands in a surrendering-yet-awed gesture and they both waited silently as Hypatia looked over documents and took notes as she read. Once she was finished, she picked up her notepad and a sheaf of papers. With a nod of her head, she gestured for Palo and Frederique to follow her. She led them to an antechamber, looked about to be sure they were alone. 

"Here is the good news," she said. "You've drawn a good trio for the panel." 

"Who are they?" asked Frederique. 

"Angelina di Bicci," said Hypatia. 

"I don't know her," said Frederique. 

"She's part of the Medici clan," said the ancient scholar. "Like any of that family that we've recruited, she has a great ability to be impartial but fair. I've met her a few times and I certainly don't mind having her here. Next we have Peregrine O'Duignan." 

"Damn," hissed Frederique. 

She explained to Palo. "He is an Irish scholar, but he was also on Christophe's trial. He was the deciding factor in saving Christophe when they discovered how powerful he was. That's not a good thing. He most likely still holds himself partially responsible." 

"Yes," said Hypatia. "He will definitely be our glass-half-empty representative." 

"Why isn't it the whole council?" asked Palo. "Why only three of them?" 

"To avoid games," explained Hypatia. "In the seventh and eighth centuries the entire Council of Twelve was brought into all major decisions regarding mates. Suddenly it became like the College of Cardinals selecting a Pope. Back then, with every mate selection everyone was maneuvering, trying to align families for more wealth or power. Now it is just three. Further, the three are selected by secret ballot on the day of the event, and they are forbidden from speaking with any other members of the Council until after the selection." 

"Who is the third?" asked Frederique. 

"Patroclus," said Hypatia. 

The name carried great weight with Frederique. 

"He's back on the Council?" she asked in wonder. 

"Yes, he found a new mate four decades ago and seems greatly revitalized." 

"Who is Patroclus?" asked Palo. 

"He is among the first-bitten," said Frederique. "Along with Galen, Patroclus is widely credited to be the reason we are still here. It was his wisdom and leadership that saw us through some of our darkest times. He is wise and just, but he can also be ruthless. With almost two thousand years on this earth, he makes his decisions for our overall good and bases them on nothing else." 

"In which direction will he lean?" asked Palo. 

"You can never tell with Patroclus," said Hypatia. "He was almost my first mate, so that gives you an idea of how long I've known him. Yet, I still can't second-guess him. That said, if I was going to guess where these three will go, here are my thoughts:" 

"I suspect that Galen will recommend that the siblings cross families and mate with each other. Claude with Abby, Jacob with Aimée. I've seen his preliminary reports and he feels they will be a strong match Affliction-wise. I'm giving Galen's recommendation a forty percent chance. " 

"Next is the possibility of the siblings blooding each other. Galen did not dismiss it, but obviously spoke against them having children. Such a thing is not unheard of. I can list twenty sibling pairs off the top of my head. I would give Claude being mated with Aimée, and Jacob with Abby a thirty a thirty percent chance." 

"Next possibility is that the Council simply chooses among the many other candidates that Galen, Villepreux-Power, and Pasteur have cleared. That could easily happen and I would put that at a twenty-five percent possibility." 

"That leaves five," said Palo. 

"Yes, five percent - unknown," said Hypatia. It is just that, unknown. " 

They sat in silence for the next several minutes. A great deal more noise could be heard in the assembly hall and they glanced out to see quite a throng beginning to form. 

"Hypatia," said Frederique, "one more thing. Is there a sealed sheet?" 

Her silence was the only answer Frederique needed. 

"I've read of it," said Palo. "But what exactly is a sealed sheet?" 

"It is a potential time-bomb," said Frederique. "If Galen finds something that he deems a significant risk with an unmated youth, he writes a report and makes four copies; one for himself, one for each of the three." 

Hypatia picked up the train of conversation. "It isn't something blatant like young Abby's power. That is a known risk. A sealed sheet is a potential risk. It is up to the three to decide on whether it is worthy of debate. If they view it as unimportant, the sheets are destroyed, all of them. If and when the candidate takes another mate, Galen, or whoever is screening at that time, may choose to re-enter the criteria logged on the sealed sheet. 

"What could he have found?" asked Palo. "Frederique, you were with him this past week. Did you ask?" 

"Oh no, Palo," said Frederique. "There is an expression among our kind - 'safer than Galen's secrets'. When it comes to matters of bloodmates, there is nothing more sacred to him." 

Soon it was time. They entered the room and another hush fell. Partially, because it was the first time many of those gathered had seen the legendary Frederique. With a mere glance, she was able to communicate to the crowd that this wasn't about her, and she would brook no applause. Frederique looked around the gallery and saw many, many old friends. She dearly wished to reunite with all of them, but another whistle sounded and the entire room stood. 

Five minutes later, a whistled sounded. Abby, Aimée, Claude, and Jacob were lead into to the assembly hall. Frederique was pleased to see several younger people giving them signs of encouragement from the separate Cadet section of the court chambers. 

The seats for the three were at the terminus of three separate parallel hallways. The rules were so strict that the three Council members weren't even allowed to see each other during the hearing. Each dais where they sat was set back into each hallway. Behind each Council member was a deplaceur ready to pop the Council member out in case of any emergency. Brolly stood behind Patroclus, Bullet behind Angelina, and Leonora, the beautiful brunette, stood behind Peregrine. 

Patroclus was seated in the center dais. He rapped a gavel and called the event to order. 

"Very well then," he said. "Today we meet to discuss the mate selection of Jacob and Abby Lamont, two of the most gifted Cadets we have seen, as well as Claude and Aimée Dujobe, children of Palo Dujobe and our beloved Frederique who has rejoined our ranks. 

The murmurs raced through the room and Patroclus allowed it patiently before rapping his gavel again. 

"There you go," he said. "Get it out of your systems, because if I hear another word I will clear the hall and have any talkative offenders arrested, maybe even sent out in the sun for a little while." 

There was a bit of nervous laughter, no one being sure exactly how serious Patroclus was with his threat. 

"For those unfamiliar with hearings surrounding a mate selection, and also for our four young people here," said Patroclus, "we will give a brief outline of the reasoning behind this event." 

"In the early days, our numbers grew rapidly. However, after even a century, we realized the implications of long life, unusual powers, and an aversion to daylight meant we needed to be selective with our members and their mates." 

"With the assistance of Galen," continued Angelina, "we have evolved the process down to a very reliable science. The one thing I want to point out, however, is this is a sacred and beloved time. It is our deepest regret that due to the extraordinary nature of your gifts and your unusual sibling circumstance, that this resembles a trial. More often, the mate selection takes place in more comfortable surroundings." 

"I will add," said Peregrine, picking up the narrative, "that it is your own actions that have necessitated the security around this event. Moving on, I will make clear that mate selection is always public. In the huge mass of humanity, we are a tiny and distinct populace. As you step into becoming a full member of the community, you must understand that you will be with us for a very long time. We welcome you to our family, but we also wish to make sure you are set down the correct path with the proper mate." 

"So, we begin," said Patroclus, simply. "Galen, we were given your report this morning. We would like to hear from you directly." 

Galen stood and the gathered crowd room grew even more silent, if that was possible. Galen was taking this very seriously. There was clearly a weight on his shoulders from the burden. 

"These are strong candidates," he said. "Good lineage and exceptional gifts. I will add that the addition of Palo to our kind, though he was not my selection, was an excellent choice. His body and mind are strong and promising, and he has taken to the Affliction well. As such, the children of Palo and the Frederique are fine specimens. As for Jacob and Abby, we all miss their parents deeply. They were two quiet, but radiant stars of our kind. We can only give thanks that Jacob was not also taken from us by Arnet, son of Jacinto, who we now know to be the leader of our enemy." 

"Theirs is a complicated case, however," continued Galen. "It was complicated by the unusual and tragic situation that led to Abby and Jacob's isolation. It was also complicated by the horrible choice of the Council to transport the Dujobes by sea when Claude and Aimée were so close to awakening. I can't remember many decisions as poor as that one and I have been around long enough to see many poor decisions." 

"We thank you, Galen," said Peregrine. "Consider us formally chastised, and please do accept our apologies." 

Galen gave a wry smile and continued. 

"I must say that the intimacy among the children greatly complicated my analysis. It complicated things because of the startling resonance they all established. This made it dreadfully hard to remain objective. My first instinct, of course, was to negate them all as candidates for each other. However, once I stepped back, I saw many strong arguments for them becoming mates. You see, when I select a mate I must evaluate what traits will be reinforced by each other's Affliction." 

"To illustrate, years ago there was an Afflicted girl who was current-adept. Much in the manner of certain aquatic animals like the electric eel, she could generate a significant shock. The council thought, and without my objection mind you, that she would be well-mated with a young man who was a conductor. He had been struck by lightning several times and could let it pass through his body easily. Together, they made a remarkable team in battle. However, we did not anticipate the activities of the cells they exchanged. What happened was a slow build up resistance and those cells began to do battle in the nervous system of the girl. In hindsight, I should have seen it, but it was too late. I was able to minimize the effect, but the girl lived a mere one hundred and fifty years, wasting slowly away as her nerves degraded from the build-up of current. This is the sort of thing we must anticipate and avoid." 

"That said, I can see nothing in these young people that represents a threat to each other. As you will see in my report, I recommend that they marry opposite, Claude with Abby and Aimée with Jacob. Their systems will mesh well, and should they opt for children in a century or two, I think their offspring would be both gifted and balanced in their powers." 

"I also think, emotionally, that their personalities would benefit. Claude is a solid type and his essence would give Abby a dose of impartiality that would help to temper the unusual burden she bears from feeling the emotions of everyone around her. Aimée and Jacob are also a good match. I know this might sound odd, but they are both more impetuous in their makeup. I have found, time and again, that two such personalities will usually be calmer after the blood ritual." 

"That is all good to hear," said Peregrine. "We are pleased to hear that their union would not be detrimental to themselves. But what of the Afflicted? Could we expect an even greater threat from Abby, the empath, after she mates with young Claude here and her gifts invariably strengthen even more?" 

Galen contemplated this and gathered himself. "As you will find in my notes, I do not feel Abby is a threat. By her very empathy, she would be averse to committing harm because she would feel that pain as well..." 

"But..." said Peregrine trying to interrupt. 

"I will finish," said Galen, raising a hand. "I am not interested in the argument of how someone might be used as a weapon should they be taken by Arnet. My argument, even in this specific instance, is that we might well have people who are under Arnet's influence in this every room. Abby is the only one of our kind who might easily detect their presence, so the blade cuts both ways. As to what Abby might gain from Claude, it could possibly be flight - but my experience says it would more likely be an ability to extend her gift the way a flier might. She might be able to touch a companion and allow them a limited ability to connect with others on an emotional level. Claude would likely become an unstoppable fighter in the air, able to anticipate his opponents every move much like Abby does on the ground. In short, I find the logic of the council fallible at best when arguing what might happen with someone as strong as Abby. I would remind you that the failure of Christophe in the last great conflict was not his failure, but a result of the failure of a deplaceur who failed to follow orders." 

A murmur surged through the room at that and Patroclus allowed it. There were few who could chastise the Council so blatantly, but if Galen did so, he had good reason and his reputation was unassailable. 

"Duly noted," said Patroclus. "Now, what of the other two?" 

"Invisibility is tricky," said Galen. "I do not see the ability being passed to Aimée if she were Jacob's mate. I would suspect she might gain the ability to be a bit more quiet in her jumps - which Bullet informs me is still an obstacle. She might gain a good bit of stealth, as well. For Jacob, I am fairly certain he would gain the ability to teleport objects - though not people - over short distances." 


The Afflicted Ch. 12



Through all of this, the four had been struggling to be silent. When they had heard Galen open with the argument that they should be mates, it had been a good thing they were restrained, or else they might have leapt up in joy. Hypatia, however, had sent them a note that they were to show their best decorum in the hearing. 

It did not stop them from exchanging glances, however, and Aimée couldn't help but give a blushing look to Jacob. It was surreal, yet wonderful for her to contemplate that this handsome young man would be her life mate sometime soon. Claude, too, found himself looking at Abby in an entirely different light. Abby personally was struggling, wishing she could reach out to communicate her joy to Claude at the prospect of taking the ultimate step with him. 

The proceedings began to go surprisingly smoothly. The air of the room became suddenly relaxed. The three judges asked questions of the four young people, marveling at the tales they had heard, and teasing them about their amorous adventures. 

"There is an ancient tale," said Patroclus. "In the story, an overprotective king locks his virginal daughter in a tower. A young man finds a magic ring that transports him there every night, where things go... very well. Leave it to two Afflicted women to bring such a fairy tale to life. I would challenge anyone here to tell me they wouldn't have done the same when they were young and newly awakened, if they had access to such powers. Now, turn off the dampener and set these four at ease." 

The hearing went so far as for the judges to consult Hypatia on certain legal matters. Inheritance was a complicated issue among the long-lived, and the three Council members wondered how to interpret the will left by Abby and Jacob's parents, which apparently included vast land holdings and investments. 

Less than an hour later, Patroclus was rapping his gavel. 

"All that is left is for us to discuss our decision and make it formal," he said. "I think all of our concerns have been allayed and we can anticipate a happy outcome. I'm calling a fifteen minute recess, and for god's sake unchain these beautiful young people. They are not a threat, nor are they an escape risk, I would hope." 

Patroclus, Angelina, and Peregrine rose and departed, followed as before by their mandated deplaceurs. 

As the children were unchained, there wasn't a dry eye among them. Palo and Frederique, and even Hypatia, were beaming with happy tears. 

"Well," said Hypatia, "I was hardly needed. 

Claude scooped Abby up in his arms and she wrapped her tiny figure 'round his muscular frame as she kissed him. Jacob, too, lifted Aimée and twirled her about in a joyful embrace. Frederique was already planning the details of the mating ceremony and the four even began discussing where they might live. 

Frederique looked about at all of her friends in the gallery and nodded to many of them, exchanging joyful smiles. 

Then, a three-note, staccato whistle blew and Hypatia looked up in alarm. It was the caution notes, not the regular call which signaled reconvening. 

Abby, more than anyone, detected the shift in the room. Four guards approached, with dampening collars, and pulled the children roughly back to the seats. Each guard remained behind each youth. 

Abby had been so overwhelmed with the joyous news that she had scarcely noticed the crowd around. Just before the guards came back, she felt something amiss, but couldn't quite place it. Then, the collar was locked around her neck and the four youths were once again shackled to the chairs. In the back of her mind, Abby was struggling to place what it was that she'd detected; the odd shift in the emotions of the crowd. 

The three judges returned, and their demeanor was radically changed. Patroclus no longer seemed kindly; Angelina was wearing a frown, and Peregrine appeared outright angry. 

"We have decided we need to investigate a few things further," said Peregrine. "And what we have to discuss is in relation to this." 

He held up a canary-yellow envelope and a gasp went through the crowd. 

"The sealed sheet," was the whisper that went through the crowd. " 

"This is ridiculous," cried Hypatia, leaping to her feet. 

Galen himself and risen in surprise. 

"You made no mention of this, before," said Hypatia. "Why now?" 

Peregrine looked on them all with a haughty expression. "That is the purpose of the deliberations, to discuss. We discussed the situation and arrived at some startling conclusions. I will read now." 

He blew on the end of the envelope to open it again and removed the sealed sheet. 

"I must object," said Galen. "What I wrote there is conjecture only, and the chances are miniscule." 

"Yes, so you mention on the sheet," said Peregrine. "Yet you did feel the need to point it out, so we've decided to discuss it." 

Peregrine unfolded the sheet and began to read. 

"I'll just skip to the important parts," he said. Galen, you wrote, "It should perhaps be noted that there have been rare instances when a gift is passed on from a prior bloodmate. I have found in Frederique strong concentrations of cells from Christophe, the clockmaker. Just as a mother's blood mixes with the child in the womb, so do the Afflicted cells she carries. There is a small chance, perhaps one in ten thousand, that when Claude Dujobe or Aimée Dujobe mate, especially with someone with strong gifts, that they will also acquire the clockmaker's gift." 

There was an uncomfortable shuffling and stirring in the room, but Frederique could not turn - so frozen was she by the findings. 

"I want you to listen carefully to those words," cried Galen, who sat alone to the side. "Small chance. One in ten-thousand." 

"Yet, the chance is there," argued Patroclus. "None of us here needs to be reminded what someone with the clockmaker's gift can accomplish." 

"We have, therefore," continued Angelina, "revised our findings and we have a new decision." 

Frederique cried angry tears and turned to see the crowd. Save for the Cadets who seemed just as shocked as she was, there was not a sympathetic eye to be found. 

How quickly they can turn, she mused. 

Peregrine reached into a notebook and pulled out a carefully written piece of paper. 

"Our new findings are thus," he said. "Because of the clear and present threat represented to the Afflicted by the four disobedient youths, and further because of the threat they represent to our kind, we have made the following decisions in regard to their future." 

"Claude Dujobe, Aimée Dujobe, and Jacob Lamont each pose a significant future threat to our kind. The Dujobes because they may carry the clockmaker's gift, Jacob because he shares the same blood as his sister. It is our recommendation that all three be mated with mortals of average intelligence, so their gifts might not be strengthened; only diluted. It is further recommended that they, and any mates they take, be sterilized." 

"What!" cried Palo leaping not only to his feet, but onto the table. Claude and Jacob also tried to rise. 

"Mr. Dujobe, you will be seated," said Patroclus. 

"Wait," cried Abby. "It all makes sense. Look at their eyes! It's..." 

She was not able to finish, her guard had gagged her with a length of silk cloth. 

"Thank you, guard," said Patroclus. "Peregrine, continue." 

"Thank you, Patroclus," said the Irishman. "We finally must speak of the empath, Abigail Lamont. Experience has shown that no person with such gifts should be allowed. It is therefore the recommendation of the council that she be terminated, as soon as possible." 

"No!" shouted Hypatia. 

She slammed her notebook down on the table in front of Frederique and marched to face the three of the Council. 

"These are not your decisions to make," she said with flashing eyes. "You are here to make decisions in regard to their mates. Decisions beyond that are to be put before the full council, the laws are quite clear." 

At the same moment, Palo looked down at the notebook Hypatia had seemingly thrown down in anger. He quietly drew Frederique's attention to the page - on which were written the words: 

FIGHT 

FREE 

FLEE. 

Frederique nodded in agreement. They gathered themselves, getting ready to spring into action. 

"Yes" said Peregrine, "there are laws, but you'll also note that special councils are allowed to make exceptional decisions in times of conflict. If the threat of Arnet is not an exceptional circumstance, what is?" 

"It is still beyond your scope," insisted Hypatia. "You can have them locked away until another time. You can have them collared, but you cannot make such decisions, you don't have the authority." 

"But we have, and we will," said Patroclus. "Abby Lamont shall be first. Guards, remove her for immediate execution." 

Abby was so stunned, she couldn't even protest through the gag. 

Then came hope. 

She heard a small click and instantly became aware of of the emotions of everyone around her. Her collar had been unlocked, instantly disabling the dampener. She saw the surprised looks of her friends as they also felt the unnerving field around them disappear. Next, came a tiny click around Abby's wrists. She felt her shackles start to fall and quickly grasped them. 

Abby searched the minds of the room in an instant flash. Her first suspicion was confirmed, the entire room, save the Cadets, had been bound to Arnet. As for who had released their collars, she had a few suspicions but could not detect the mind who had done the miraculous deed. 

The others also grasped their shackles and they thought they might not be detected. However, Aimée's wrist-irons fell too rapidly from her narrow wrists and went clanging to the floor. 

It was a moment that lasted for an eternity. All of the room paused upon realizing the implications of Aimée's bonds being released with no one near. 

"Take me last!" rang Abby's voice in Aimée's head. 

There were several bursts of vision. 

First, Palo and Hypatia disappeared. 

Then the room seemed to stop. 

Next, Claude, Jacob and Frederique were gone. 

The world stopped again. 

Back into action, Scaurus disappeared along with the Jeanne Villepreux-Power. 

Another freeze. 

Next, Brana and the Cadets were gone. 

The world stopped again, and now Brolly was standing next to Abby, reaching out for her. At the same moment, Brolly tugged at Abby's right arm and Aimée tugged at her left. 

Time resumed again, and the world was treated to the rare sight of a deplaceurs battle. Aimée winked out and back in again elsewhere, then out and in again - popping in and out with stunning rapidity, Brolly always appearing in the spots where Aimée had just been. 

Bullet and Leonora crouched at the edge of the room, ready to leap into the fray, but like someone trying to jump into a skipping rope in motion, they had to take care to find the right opening. 

Brolly and Aimée and popped in out of the air. The room sounded like small firecrackers were being detonated from the tiny pops. Somehow, Aimée was able to keep one flash ahead of the English jumper. Luckily for her, the other jumpers could not enter the fray. It was too dangerous. 

Finally (as it appeared to all watching) Brolly found an opening. Aimée had materialized at the edge of the room and was facing away from him. Brolly popped in and grabbed her triumphantly. 

"Let go of me!" cried the woman. 

"I don't think... so..." said Brolly. It suddenly occurred to him that the voice speaking was not Aimée's. His head clearing, he suddenly realized he had hold of Angelina. Abby had tricked his mind. 

"No!" he cried. "Bullet!" 

Aimée was standing by Abby, holding her arm. 

Bullet was already in motion, lunging forward with blade in hand as she winked out. 

She rematerialized in front of Aimée and Abby, striding at a full run toward Aimée. The two girls popped out of sight as Bullet's lunge continued through where they had been. 

Bullet looked to her short blade and saw blood upon it. She smiled a grim smile and disappeared on a search for Abby and Aimée, hoping the young deplaceur had chosen a familiar location to escape to. 

Patroclus cursed when he saw that Abby was gone. Peregrine and Brolly strolled to his side. 

"The master won't be happy," said Peregrine. 

"No," said Brolly. "The one person he wanted was the empath. He feels she is the key to it all." 

"We'll find her," said Leonora. 

"Yes, you will," said a thin voice from the entrance. 

The entire room turned as one, and kneeled on one knee before the short figure in the silk cape. 

Arnet walked in, flanked by recently 'turned' Afflicted group on one side, and a mortal group under the influence of his serum, God's Strength, on the other. 

"The empath?" he asked. 

"Gone," said Brolly. "We're sorry, master." 

"Frederique?" asked Arnet, his voice rising higher. 

"Also gone," said Patroclus. 

"Her children?" asked Arnet, the anger boiling in his voice. 

"Also escaped," said Peregrine. "But we think Frederique's daughter may have been injured." 

"Well," said Arnet. "I think you could have done better. Don't get me wrong, though. Brolly, I'm very pleased with you. You're reputation bears up." 

"It was a stroke of genius, I must say, master," said Patroclus. "Infecting our top deplaceur guaranteed you the greatest access." 

"And of course, I quickly enlisted our other best deplaceur," said Brolly. "From there, things have fallen rapidly into place." 

"Reykjavik?" asked Arnet. 

"Surprisingly easy," said another deplaceur walking in. "Those darts are sheer magic." 

"Tell me, did my plan work for the assembly hall?" asked Arnet. 

"Like clockwork," said Angelina. "We were able to watch it from where we sat. The advanced guard injected the back row. Within seconds those people were bound to you, then they took a syringe and injected those in front of them, and so on. It was less than a minute for the whole room." 

"The only people we are missing are some cadets, Scaurus and Galen, and of course those we've mentioned," said Peregrine. 

"Oh, that's all," said Arnet. "The greatest mind in the world, your head general, the empath, and the woman who defeated my father." 

He smacked Peregrine across the face. The great scholar who had lived to see a quarter of a millennium cowered at Arnet's feet like a dog. 

"I'm sorry, Master. We will find them, I promise." 

* * * * 

Abby and Aimée reappeared at the side of a lovely underground swimming pool. 

"Well done, Aimée!" cried Abby. 

Her joy was cut instantly short, however, upon feeling the crippling pain and shock emanating from her friend. Aimée's breathing was heavily labored. There was massive pain in her chest. 

"Aimée!" cried Abby. 

"Warn them!" rasped Aimée. "Warn them first. Do it!" 

Abby understood and gathered her strength. 

She reached out to everyone she knew. She also touched those with whom she was intimately connected, her other three, and through them, she called out to every possible individual that they were connected to. 

It wasn't words, but images. There was no time for words. The images were simple: Arnet; a syringe-like dart; a generic face with a blank, adoring expression; and a sword. The message was remarkably clear. 

Abby gripped Aimée fiercely and sent a face to her. 

"Take us now," she begged her friend through tears. "Take us to Galen before you are too weak" 

Aimée tried to follow the trail of Abby's mind to the physician, but she could not get a fix. 

"Damn it!" cried Abby, "Where the hell are you Galen?" 

Abby concentrated again, this time on Villepreux-Power and this time they were gone, the beloved pool of Aimée's childhood home in Morocco lay empty and lonely once more. A spot of blood lay slowly spreading on the marble surface. 

* * * * 

Frederique's pupils widened to adjust to the darkness. 

"Where the hell?" she whispered. 

"Who's there?" said another voice. She believed it belong to Jacob. 

"Mother? Jacob?," said Claude's voice. 

Her eyes now adjusted, she saw a lantern on a small table with matches beside it. 

She lit the lantern and they took stock of their surroundings. It appeared to be some sort of makeshift office in a mine. The walls were rough-hewn and there was a lot of dust with just a few footprints other than theirs that appeared to be a week or two old. 

"How did..." started Claude, but he never finished his thought. Both Claude and Jacob's eyes suddenly went blank. 

Frederique's mind was flooded with the four images, coming from Claude. Arnet, syringe, enslaved, fight. Almost instantly after that, she received the same images from Aimée, though from very far away. 

"Good girl," mused Frederique, realizing it was Abby. 

"What should..." 

"Come on," she said, picking up the lantern. "We need to leave. If Aimée knows this place, she was most likely introduced to it by another deplaceur. Come." 

Cracks of the sun appeared through the front door. She led the boys to the rear door which opened into the mine beyond. She gratefully saw an insulated emergency kit on a shelf, complete with blood and rations. Remembering their footprints, she gathered her will. With her gesture, a breeze swept through the chamber, swirling the floor and tables clean. 

Perhaps a minute after the door shut, there was a gentle pop in the room. Bullet, on the hunt, looked around quickly and popped back out again, on to the next location. 

* * * * 

Scaurus, Palo, and Hypatia looked around. It appeared to be a wine cellar. 

"Look around!" cried Scaurus. "There's bound to be a passage out of here, or at least a hiding place." 

They started to search. Palo and Scaurus paused as the images passed to them and through them. 

"Good girl," murmured Scaurus as he continued his search. "Be on the ready Palo, Hypatia. We've got less than a minute if I guess correctly." 

Both of the warriors cursed the lack of weapons. None were ever allowed into Council events and since Aimée had deplaced them away, they'd had no chance to gather any arms. 

"Here," cried Hypatia. "Quickly!" 

It was a narrow spot behind wine shelf. In the wall was a door which was locked. 

Scaurus moved behind the shelf first and examined the lock. 

"There's a key here somewhere," he whispered, "but we don't have time to find it. Get back here quickly." 

The three of them squeezed behind the shelves and Hypatia found herself sandwiched between the two men. 

"My my," she whispered. "Wedged between two handsome warriors. I haven't found myself in a situation like this since I got caught in the middle of a Suleiman campaign in Belgrade." 

"Quiet," whispered Scaurus. "Any moment now." 

His prediction was correct, as a quiet pop shook the room. Peering between the bottles, they saw Leonora looking about carefully. She searched for perhaps two minutes before deplacing to the next location. 

"They'll do a rapid sweep first," explained Scaurus once she was gone. "Later, they'll be more thorough, but hopefully we'll be long gone by then." 

They searched the room and it was Hypatia who found the key to the passage, hidden within a false bottle in the racks. 

They opened the door and were pleased to find it didn't lead to a simple room, but to a long tiled passageway. 

"Hold on," said Palo. "I recognize these patterns in the tiles." 

"What do they mean?" asked Hypatia. 

"Follow me," he urged. "I believe they mean we will soon be hiding in a place of great comfort." 

Palo was flying away before he even finished his sentence and Scaurus had Hypatia's hand in his and they were soon following. 




The Afflicted Ch. 12



* * * * 

Brana sat atop Oppo as he raced them through the passageways of below. He flew at a breakneck pace, but she was too worried about the others to be concerned for her own safety. 

Aimée had whisked them back to the West dorm. It had been a tricky bit of jumping. Abby had been immobilizing everyone in the assembly hall, and had needed to stop momentarily to give Aimée a fix on Vickie. Yet, she had done so successfully. Brana had found herself in the West Dorm and slammed down the security gates with only seconds to spare. 

With the West dorm safe, Brana needed desperately to assure that the cadets in the East dorm were safe. Riding Oppo, who was an accomplished flier, they had burst out of the West Dorm at a breakneck speed, emerging so fast that the infected people watching the place had been taken entirely by surprise, allowing the cadets inside to lock down the dorm again. They were being pursued, but those flying after them were far behind. If she was to be with any flier, Oppo was the one. 

Her heart fell when the turned the corner near the entrance to the other dorm. Bodies were strewn everywhere. Peering about, she was both heartened and devastated to see the bodies of three cadets lying among the carnage. Losing even one was too many. Still, it could have been much worse. 

"Brana!" cried a hoarse whisper from a speaking tube mounted in the door. 

"It's me!" she cried. "Please tell me the rest of you are all right." 

"In a way," said the voice which she now recognized as that belonging to Anders. 

"Hurry and let us in," said Brana. 

"First tell me that you hate Arnet." 

"What?" 

"Go on, say it," said Anders. 

"Of course I do," said Brana. "He's a villain of the highest order and I pray I'm the one who plunges the dagger into his chest. But what's that got to do with it." 

The door clicked open and they were pulled rapidly inside. 

"That's how we caught Lissa, there," said Anders once the door was closed. "She bluffed her way in but when we started cursing Arnet's name, Lissa went mental. Once we had her restrained we found a packet of darts in her pouch. They can't say a thing, or hear a bad thing said about their beloved leader, the bastard." 

The restrained and gagged Lissa kicked angrily at the sound, as did another girl and two boys who were also tied up nearby. 

"That's right, I said it," said Anders with a grin. "Bastard. Arnet is a slimy, pathetic, weaselly bastard." 

The captives struggled some more and Brana was actually frightened by the hatred in their eyes. 

"Anders, gently," she said. "It's not their fault. What to do with them, though. Hmm, flier, flier, flier, and shrinker. No unusual risks, carry them and follow me." 

The other cadets bore up their restrained friends and followed Brana into the sleeping room area. 

"We can't lock them up alone," she explained. "They are already half mad from Arnet's contamination. The last thing we would want to do is drive them the rest of the way mad from abstinence. So, Lissa with Pyotr and Imani with John." 

The students were placed in their respective rooms and held with crossbows pointed at them before the doors closed. 

With a resounding 'thud' the doors shut. The sound was even more final when Brana inserted a special key and turned it - triggering a locking mechanism within that was unbreakable. 

"These were designed for both scenarios," explained Brana. "That room is now impregnable. Food and blood will arrive for them via pneumatic tubes for the next ninety days. If I haven't unlocked it by then, the doors will reopen and they'll be left to their own devices." 

Brana turned matter-of-factly to the other cadets. "For your own safety, you will also be locked in rooms. Or, to put it another way, I will be locking others out." 

"But Brana..." Oppo started to complain. 

"It is protocol," she said, cutting him off. I can quote it by heart "In times of strife, such as the Jacinto crisis, cadets are to be secured within dormitory units for their own safety." The statute even references Jacinto, the father of our current enemy. We'll be travelling soon to bring the others here - it is the more secure of the two dorms and I can't flit back and forth between them in this climate." 

Oppo contemplated this. 

"Brana, you can bring the other cadets here," he said. "But you won't be locking us away for our safety. We'll be fighting, and there's nothing you can do about it." 

* * * * 

Jeanne Villepreux-Power had begun gathering supplies as soon as she received the images from Abby. She and Pasteur had been analyzing some specimens at Galen's request. She looked up from her microscope with alarm at the sound of a deplaceur's pop. 

"Madame, hurry!" cried Abby when she appeared. 

Aimée was slumping to the ground, held up only by her friend's arms. 

Jeanne rushed to Aimée and reached out with her senses. Punctured lung, severed veins... and a nick to the heart. 

"Mon dieu," she whispered. 

Her first priority was the heart. 

The lungs were obviously important, but wouldn't do any good if the heart stopped beating. 

Working with the same efficiency as a battlefield surgeon, she reached in with her mind and began weaving a mesh of muscle across the gash in the heart's fourth chamber. 

"What can I do to help?" asked Pasteur over her shoulder. 

"Supplies," said Jeanne. "Medical kit, instruments, anything you can think of. We need to leave here shortly." 

"Already prepared," said the old man, indicating a large doctor's satchel. 

"Should we cut her open?" asked Pasteur. "I could repair things the old-fashioned way." 

"Maybe later," explained Villepreux-Power. "But I'd rather not and we need her soon." 

Jeanne continued mending Aimée's heart with her mind. It was not pretty, but her only goal for the next five minutes was to keep her alive. 

"They're here," said Abby. Fifty people at least just pushed past the guards. 

"I'll bar the door," said Pasteur. 

Jeanne continued mending and gave a satisfied sigh as the last of her impromptu patch was completed. The heart would need more attention, but at least it would keep pumping. 

"We need to go," she whispered. "Aimée. Aimée, can you find the strength to take us elsewhere?" 

Aimée's eyes were half-lidded and her eyes were showing clear signs of shock. 

"I'll try," she murmured. 

"We can't go anywhere she knows," said Abby. "Dr. Villepreux-Power, do you have a place in your mind we could go?" 

"Yes," she said. 

She envisioned a spot and Abby gleaned it from her mind. 

Villepreux-Power then did a last-ditch effort she had only tried twice before. Stretching out with her mind, she grasped hold of Aimée's primary glands. A sudden rush of natural adrenalin, thyroxin, and countless stimulating hormones poured into Aimée's system. Aimée's eyes shot open and she reached out to grab hold of Abby and the French biologist. Abby, in turn, grabbed the wrist of Pasteur who had just picked up his satchel. 

The room disappeared and a moment later they were looking at the floorboards of a dusty attic. A narrow beam of from a cloudy sky was slanting through a lone window at the end. Pasteur crossed to it and threw a large blanket over some convenient nails. 

The attic, thankfully, had an old bed and it was covered with a cloth. They threw the cloth aside and moved Aimée to it. Pasteur quickly removed Aimée's blouse and began cleaning the wound as Jeanne continued her internal repairs. 

"Louis," said Jeanne, "I'll need you to intubate the right lung, it's filling with blood. Abby, I need you to ease her pain as much as possible." 

Pasteur prepared a tube and needle and sat by Aimée. He placed the needle against her ribs. Villepreux-Power placed a hand over his. 

"Perhaps I should do that," she said. 

"I may not be hundreds of years old like other physicians you know, Jeanne," he said, "but this is well within my abilities." 

"Of course," she said apologetically. 

Pasteur inserted the needle and Aimée gave a gasp of pain. Almost immediately, blood began to flow out of her lungs and into the tube which emptied into a sealed jar at the other end. 

Pasteur, satisfied, went back to his kit and set about some other activities that neither of the women could pay attention to. 

(It should be noted that Jeanne Villepreux-Power was, at the time, without a mate. Her initial bloodmate had been essentially a marriage of convenience to bring her into the Afflicted. They had not had great love for each other, nor animosity for that matter. The great biologist had been without a regular partner for some time, which hadn't bothered her since her first love had always been her work.) 

After ten minutes of steady concentration, Jeanne leaned back, breathing a sigh of exhaustion. 

"She is stable," she said. "There is much work to be done, but I need to let her rest for half an hour or so." 

"Thank you, Madame," said Abby. 

Abby hugged the biologist then took a clean blanket Pasteur had found in a chest and covered both she and Aimée with it. She took Aimée's hand in hers and did all she could with her own gifts to heal her dearest friend. 

Madame Villepreux-Power stood up and started to look around the room. She stopped in surprise upon seeing a carefully laid out white surgical sheet on an old dressing table. Upon the sheet were two devices with which she was very familiar. She should have been, for she had helped to perfect them. 

The tubing was of a material that mortal man would not see for another half a century; clear, flexible, and sterile. At the end of each tube was a needle. One needle only allowed fluid to pass out; the other only allowed it to pass in. 

Two tubes. 

The younger-looking woman turned to look at the old man, who stood near the dressing table with a shy grin on his face. 

"Louis?" she gasped. 

"It seems," he said, "that I have seen enough daylight. It is time that I join your kind, and I can think of no one I would rather do it with than you." 

"But Louis..." 

Pasteur silenced her objections. 

"I can help heal the girl more quickly if I am Afflicted, and if this situation is as bad as it appears, any gift I have will give me an extra tool to help in the fight. Besides, I think we would make very good mates. What do you say Jeannie?" 

"Well Louis," said Madame Villepreux-Power, "that is the most odd, unusual, and wonderful marriage proposal I have ever received. Believe it or not, in my day I have received quite a few." 

"Oh, I believe it," said Pasteur. "Shall we then?" 

"We shall," she agreed. 

Abby had watched the entire exchange (via their eyes) and she laid back, continuing to view the events as though living in an exhausted dream. 

The two doctors knelt on a blanket placed on the floor. 

Jeanne was the first. She removed her top, revealing a magnificent torso with high small breasts and perfect skin. Pasteur removed his shirt and his body stood in stark contrast to his soon-to-be mate. Forty-seven was still old in that day and age. 

Pasteur poured alcohol on a cloth and carefully cleaned a spot on her neck as she did the same. They repeated the process on their arms. 

At the same time, they inserted their needles into an artery on the other's neck. 

"Êtes-vous prêt?" asked Pasteur. 

"Yes, I'm ready," answered Jeanne. 

Pasteur reached up to valve on the needle in his neck to let the blood flow through the tubing and out through the needle on the other end. 

Abby wondered at his reasoning, but then realized that Pasteur was setting aside a supply of mortal blood. Once he was turned, they would be forced to venture outside if they didn't have blood at the ready. Pasteur let the blood flow for some time emptying it all into a large liter flask. When it was nearly full, he shut if off the valve. Jeanne raised the vial to her lips and took a sip, smiling. 

She then opened her valve, letting her blood run only long enough to fill the tube and eliminate any air bubbles. Villepreux-Power was first, inserting her needle into a vein on Pasteur's arm. He followed directly after and within moments they had formed an exchange system, each of their blood flowing through the other person and back again. 

"Mon dieu," groaned Pasteur as the Affliction began to take hold. For Jeanne, it was very energizing at first. She had heard of such feelings occurring when a new, non-Afflicted mate was taken. Her cells were rejoicing at the fresh 'food' and her system was both ingesting the foreign cells and infecting them. The euphoria only lasted a few minutes, though, as the Affliction quickly latched onto Pasteur's system. 

With natural-born Afflicted, Awakening was a gradual event, happening over months. With a fully-grown mortal, the transformation was immediate and startling. 

Pasteur suddenly dropped his head and began breathing deeply, almost with a growl. 

"It burns," he panted. "So... strong... so... wrong." 

"Be strong Louis," said Jeanne in a calm voice. "Remember what is happening. Your body may resist." 

"I know..." he said in slow, metered words. "I will... not panic... do not... be... concerned." 

Sometimes the blood ritual with a mortal was seamless and quick, at other times they had to be restrained for several minutes if not longer. Jeanne waited, ready to restrain him if needed. 

He breathed deeply, staring at the floor and willing his body to not revolt at the foreign invasion. At last, after three or four minutes, he looked up with a smile on his face. "It is so clear. Everything is so clear and wonderful. How easy things seem now." 

"I know, dear," she said, "are you hungry?" 

"I am," he said. "I am for everything." 

"Drink first," she urged him. 

Pasteur lifted the flask of his own, mortal, blood to his mouth and began to drink. He was so enamored with the taste he didn't notice Jeanne removing their needles and standing to remove her skirt. 

He certainly noticed her when he finished drinking. The refined, highly educated man - one of the great minds of his day or any day - found himself reduced to base animal instincts. Before him stood a mate; his mate. There was only one thing he wanted or needed, and she was that one thing. 

As he rose, he stepped out of his trousers and stalked her -his erection already stiff and ready. 

He lowered his head to her right breast and sucked hungrily. She gasped with pain and he pulled back. Out of sheer instinct, he had bitten too hard and an incision above her nipple dripped a red stream. 

"It's all right," she purred. "It will heal. This is your time, do as you wish." 

Over the next two hours, Abby chose to focus entirely on helping Aimée to heal, feeling it was not her place to participate in such a sacred event in two people's lives, even empathetically. 

Though she did not enter their minds, she could not help but hear their activities. 

She had witnessed, and been part of, some legendary sexual encounters - but none of them compared to the animalistic frenzy taking place in the spacious attic between the two newly mated scientists. She realized the contrast of their professions compared to their behavior perhaps added to the perceived intensity of things - but they were WILD. 

Abby finally went deep within and pushed herself into Aimée's mind. She sought out memories of childhood days and carefree times. For the next few hours, the two of them dreamed together - finding peace in memories of many lovely days. 

The next thing she knew, she was waking up to the stirrings of Aimée. 

"I had the loveliest dreams," said Aimée. "You were with me and we were girls." 

"Mm hmm," said Abby. 

"I'm so sore," said Aimée. "I've never felt like this before." 

Abby sensed the stirring of the other two people in the room. Jeanne and Louis quickly dressed themselves and came to the bed to check on Aimée. The blanket was pulled back. Through two sets of eyes, Abby looked down on Aimée and had to stifle a gasp. Aimée looked dreadfully pale and the wound was still red and angry. For the first time she realized just how close her friend had been to death. Were it not for having an Afflicted healer and the recuperative abilities of her own system, Aimée would have perished within the hour after her injury. 

Aimée looked up at Pasteur. 

"Hello handsome man," whispered Aimée. "Are you a cadet, too?" 

Abby chalked Aimée's comment up to delirium, but she naturally switched her view over to Aimée's eyes. 

"Who are you?" cried Abby. 

The man standing next to Jeanne was perhaps twenty years old. Strikingly handsome and amazingly well-muscled, he was almost beautiful. 

"Why, it's me, Dr. Pasteur," said a voice more resonant and youthful than the day before, but doubtless belonging to Louis. "Oh my, what has happened to my voice?" 

"Oh my, Louis," said Madame Villepreux-Power, "I imagined you would fare well through your awakening. But oh, that is a mate. 

"What on earth are you talking about?" grumbled Pasteur. 

He walked to the dressing table and even he gasped at his appearance in the mirror. 

"Well, this is embarrassing," he said. "This is hardly dignified, I'll have to speak with Galen and ask him how he trains his body to appear more mature." 

"You'll do no such thing, at least not for a while," said Jeanne. 

It was clear by the expressions on the other two women's faces that they certainly didn't wish him to make any changes to his new appearance. He glanced at himself in the mirror a bit longer. Abby could tell he was emotionally torn between being pleased at his transformation, and fighting the feeling that his very pleasure made him vain." 

"Well," said Pasteur, turning away from the mirror. "More important things at hand. Let's have a look at our patient." 

Pasteur took a seat beside Aimée and examined her closely. 

"Overall, you are doing well given the gravity of your injury. However, I do have some concerns about the wound. There is definitely a level of infection that is surprising for an Afflicted. It speaks to how weakened your system is. I wish I could do something about it." 

"Why don't you try," suggested his new mate. 

"Oh my," said Pasteur. "I am Afflicted. What gift do I have?" 

He touched his hand lightly to Aimée's skin and closed his eyes, willing his mind to look in - to look further. 

He tried several times and Abby could feel his frustration and growing disappointment. Then, like a dam opening, his gift exploded in his mind. 

"There!" cried Pasteur. "I am in! I am inside of her! Can you believe it Jeannie? I'm inside of her." 

"Well, I was hoping we'd be exclusive for a little while," quipped Jeanne. 

But the humor of the comment was lost on Pasteur as he gained insight into a world that wasn't remotely possible to see from the most powerful microscopes of the day. 

"There," he cried. "There are cells that accomplish that. And the skin, it does have bacteria, so much... but much of it is good, too." 

Pasteur continued to speak to himself, uttering a blur of exclamations in both French and English as he made more and more discoveries about his glimpse inside the human body. 

After two or three minutes of that, Jeanne put her hand on his shoulder and he came out of his revelry. 

"My dear," said Villepreux-Power. "Aimée is barely hanging on, and only because of the battle her Afflicted cells are waging. I know we can repair her heart, but there seems to be more going on within her" 

"Yes," he said, "let me look." 

His senses rushed through Aimée's body and he quickly came to focus on the areas around the wound. Here was where his expertise quickly came to bear. The man who had discovered so much about germs and bacteria was now gifted with the abilities to discern Aimée's problem with extreme detail. 




The Afflicted Ch. 12



Through his mind Abby saw a great battle waging between ugly and angry tiny creatures and the guardians in Aimée's body. She almost jumped in fear when she detected that Pasteur felt the infection was winning. 

"No!" he whispered. "You will not continue in this way." 

"What's wrong?" whispered Aimée, who had been drifting in and out of sleep. 

Abby put a soothing hand to Aimée's check and was alarmed again at the great heat emanating from her. 

"She is so feverish," she said. 

"She won't be for long," said Pasteur. "Not if we can help it. Jeanne, can you see the bacteria?" 

"I can," she said. "I see them a bit differently than you, I expect. And I can't kill them. I can only send the Afflicted cells and her fighter cells to help out." 

"Well I should hope I could do something since it has been my lifelong crusade. I am concentrating at the edge of the wound, can you feel me there?" 

"Yes, I can," she said. 

"You watch and monitor the area. Let me know if any of this seems to be harmful." 

He targeted a group of bacteria and went in even further. Happily, he intuited exactly how they functioned. With a tiny twist of his mind, he flipped two tiny components in the composition. Instantly, an entire colony died. 

Good cells rushed in and like conquering an important defensive hill in a war, the 'troops' instantly began pushing out to take advantage of their strengthened position. 

Jeanne kissed Louis on the shoulder and stroked his hair. 

"Perfect," she said. "You help her there, I will get to work on her heart and move onto the lungs. 

Pasteur plodded through the wound, striking out everywhere and destroying bacteria... but there were so many millions of them that it was slow going. Then, he happened on an idea that excited him to no end. 

"Ah!" he cried. "How wonderful would that be?" 

Jeanne was too intently focused on her work to speak, but Abby humored him. 

"What?" asked Abby, sensing he needed to talk this out with someone. "What are you thinking?" 

"You see, my girl," he explained. "Bacteria and viruses, they are not smart. That's part of what makes them so dangerous. They are single-minded warriors. They go in with one job and do it with a vengeance. I believe that same simplicity might also allow me to re-educate them shall we say?" 

He sought out several hundred bacteria cells surging strongly in Aimée's lower dermis. He pierced into the center of all of them at once. 

"Hello my friends," he murmured. "You have been misinformed. You are fighting for the wrong side. You need to seek out those who look like you and destroy them." 

With another tiny twist, he reeducated the cells and urged them to complete a new mission. 

Instantly, they turned traitor and went straight for other bacteria cells. Of course Aimée's own cells did not know they were friendly, so they did not last long in any case, but the havoc they wrought was significant. That tactic proved to turn the tide of battle and Pasteur began a triumphant campaign through Aimée's system, cleansing it of every enemy he could find. 

"What have you done?" asked Jeanne. "I was making good progress, but I just felt her strengthen immensely." 

"I've eliminated most of the other side," said Pasteur. "Her body can now focus exclusively on healing." 

"Wonderful," said Jeanne. "Her heart is doing well. I think I've got it quite near perfect. Her lungs are mending on their own. I think the best thing for her is to simply rest. Congratulations, Louis, you are Afflicted and you are marvelous. 

* * * * 

Frederique cursed under her breath once again. There were countless worries in her head, the foremost of which was Aimée. It was understandable that she hadn't returned in the first hour. She was doubtless hiding as well and would have taken caution to avoid secondary sweeps by the other deplaceurs. If Arnet had been able to infect Brolly and Bullet it was unlikely that any other deplaceurs had slipped through. That translated to global travel being entirely controlled by the enemy. 

Yet, after an hour or more, she knew Aimée would have returned for them. The fact that they were hiding in the mine made no difference, because Frederique had no doubt that Abby would be with her. That meant Aimée could find them anywhere. Abby was empathically connected to Claude and Jacob, and from there Aimée could jump to them, even in deplaceur protected room with shifting walls. 

As the hours stretched into a day, Frederique's second worry grew. They did not know where they were or how close they were to any Afflicted outpost. She was stranded with two stallions, two young men bursting with awakening and on the brink of mating. Who was around to relieve them? Only her. 

She had no qualms relieving them, even with Claude. Sex was simply sex among the Afflicted, but she did not wish to be mated to Jacob, or Claude, or both of them. Not at this moment. 

Even worse, she already had a strong resonance with Claude. She was his mother. This aligned their cells closely, and her times with him aboard the Siren had only created a stronger link which would prove even more troublesome if they had any extended contact. Jacob, too, was on the verge. One day was the rule. Two days was dangerous. Frederique knew that at best, she could satisfy the boys for one day, and perhaps they would be able to resist mating for a second day. If they had sexual relations for three days in a row, mating was inevitable. 

This was complicated by the fact that if the young men weren't sexually satisfied on a regular basis, there wouldn't be any choice in the matter regardless. If she made them wait for even an entire day, they would either take her to mate forcibly, or fly to the nearest civilization and take the first mate they could locate, mortal or otherwise. 

For the first few hours, before sunset, all she could do was keep their minds occupied. She sent Claude and Jacob out exploring the different tunnels. 

In the mine, they found a few comforts of home. The miners had carved out a side cavern for makeshift quarters about a quarter mile into the mine, probably to take shelter from the desert heat. Within were metal beds, blankets, dusty sheets, makeshift couch. There was a lot of mining equipment around, too. Cart chains, ropes, twine, and so on. Frederique kept the boys busy taking inventory and setting up the quarters, but she was growing more anxious as the time kept passing. 

"Jacob," she said. "Can you try and reach your sister?" 

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Dujobe," he said. "It doesn't work like that, especially not from a distance. She can reach me, but I have to wait for it. 

"Hopefully she'll reach out soon," said Frederique. "And call me Frederique, please. Well, I'm going to make myself useful. I'm going to set a trap in case any deplaceurs come to visit. 

She had found a spool of twine just inside the mine, as well as several blasting caps. She had also found a lovely set of oil paints and brushes. 

She looked around the room and tried to think like a deplaceur. They always appeared in the center of a room if possible. She also scanned her thoughts and remembered where the footsteps in the mine office had been located. 

The trick to good trip wires was not to overdo them. If she rigged the entire room there was a good chance a deplaceur would wink in, see the tripwires, and step around them cautiously. She kept her trap deviously simple. It was a simple square at knee height, perhaps six feet on each side with a simple trigger that would set off the caps. For the finishing touches, she stood in the center of the square and looked down at the twine. Mixing the paint carefully, she painted the twine in shades and patterns that blended in with the floor from the perspective of someone standing in the middle of the room. 

With the trap set, she returned to find the boys and she could feel their glances linger longer and longer on her form. She began to invent work for them, having them explore the other tunnels while she examined the cache of supplies in the office and other areas. There was blood, chilled with an ingenious machine created by Franz. There were handcuffs and other restraints. Food, money, even a small cook stove. Just down the second tunnel they found sleeping quarters. It was nothing fancy, no love nest. Simply two rooms separated by an iron door, with bunks in each room as well as a simple couch. 

The boys couldn't be kept at bay forever. Frederique kept checking the sunlit cracks in the office and it seemed like time was slowing, as the sun crawled slowly downward below the horizon. 

She sent the boys off to explore some more. About a half an hour from sunset, the boys returned with smiles on their faces. 

"We found a spring," said Claude, excited. "Far back in the third tunnel." 

"Yes," said Jacob, "and it is no ordinary spring. Someone has carved out a pool. The water is just a trickle from the side of the tunnel but the pool is full. It must have taken years." 

"Well, we'll have to enjoy a nice swim some time," she said calmly. 

She was no empath, but she could practically see the visions racing through Claude and Jacob's heads of frolicking in the water with her. Jacob's eyes couldn't seem to leave her cleavage and she knew his Afflicted-driven mind was working overtime wondering how her full breasts might float in that underground aquatic wonderland. 

"We could go now..." suggested Claude, trying to sound innocent. "It would be good to wash off after all we've been through." 

"No," insisted Frederique, "I've much to do, now leave me to it. I know, go and get the bedding from the bunk room and scoop out some water from the pool you found to wash it. If we're going to be sleeping here, we might as well have clean linens." 

This was not what the boys had been hoping for, but she didn't care. The boys moped off and returned with damp sheets which they'd washed and wrung out. 

"We'll be sleeping on damp bedding," complained Claude. "These will take a while to dry." 

"No they won't," said Frederique. "Watch closely, Claude." 

She held up a sheet and a quick swirl of wind came up. The sheet was soon stretched on a current of air and dried in less than a minute with Frederique's expert gift. She dried the rest and then then ordered the boys to make the beds while she returned to the room at the entrance to the mine to watch the sun continue its slow descent outside. 

As night fell completely and the sun was well below the horizon, she fetched the boys. Claude helped Jacob fly through the room above the trip wires. They exited the mine to find the dry landscape of the American Southwest. 

What the three didn't know was that this was Nine Mile Canyon where Bullet had taken Aimée to train several times. 

"We should have a look around," Frederique explained to the boys. "Your job is to scout out the area and see if there are any possible new lodgings. I'm not terribly hopeful we'll discover anywhere as secure or suitable, but see what you can find. I'm going to see what's around. Now, I want to be quite clear. You are not to have contact with a single human. You have had your nightly dose of blood, so you won't be thirsty. However, there are other hungers lurking in your systems. Do not indulge those hungers. Are we clear, boys?" 

The two boys nodded. Claude took Jacob's hand and they flew off to the south. 

Frederique was glad to fly away from the two boys; their longing was palpable. 

First, she flew to perhaps two-thousand feet in the air. From that vantage point she could see the little dots of light around the rocky countryside, marking the solitary homesteads of hardy ranchers and farmers. To the Northwest, she saw the first collection of lights, perhaps five miles away, and beyond that she saw a larger city some fifty miles beyond. 

She took a deep breath and said a silent prayer. Dropping down, she flew rapidly to the nearby town and decided to have a look around. 

There were few people who were better at aerial surveillance than Frederique. She was a shadow, flitting along the edges of buildings and peering inside in search of a rather unique target. 

She looked at homes and hotels, shacks and 'proper' homes. Finally, she saw several cowhands staggering out of a run-down house at the edge of town. She knew this was the most likely place she would find what she was looking for. 

She landed in the darkness beyond and walked straight up to the brothel. Still dressed in the stately finery she'd worn for the children's hearing, she cut quite a figure when she threw open the door and stood silhouetted starkly in against the darkness of the starry sky beyond. 

Everything in the room stopped. The piano player stopped playing, the girls chatting up patrons stopped giggling, the bartender stopped polishing a glass. They all stopped upon seeing this regal, beautiful woman stepping into a place so unbecoming to her. Across the back of the room were six curtains, four of them were open to reveal a filthy bed. One had the curtain drawn across and she could hear ugly grunts coming from beyond, and the sixth had a black curtain in front. 

The madam walked over to her with an air of authoritative dismissal. 

Everything about the madam spoke of better days. Her face had undoubtedly been lovely once, but was marred by years of hard drinking and hard living. Her dress would have been thought elegant at one time, but was now stained by sweat and smoke. Even her breasts, once her finest asset, were now simply large from excess weight and were pushed up garishly by a corset that had doubtless been loosened many times. 

Frederique did her best to maintain a calm expression but it took every ounce of self-control for her not to gag at the smell of liquor, smoke and human stench that permeated the building. 

"Hello, honey," said the madam. "If you're looking for a gal, we don't cater to that sort. If you're looking for a job, I don't reckon anyone around here can afford you." 

"Well, honey," said Frederique. "I am looking for someone for my son. He's a virgin and I want him to learn things right." 

"I'll be damned," said the madam. "Usually the Pa comes in. Well, come on and have a gander, I'm sure we'll have someone that suits your tastes." 

The girls were called to attention, presenting themselves to Frederique for inspection. 

On first glance, Frederique feared she had made a mistake in coming. The girls in view were a mix of dullards and wantons, not a spark of intelligence showing in any of their eyes. The girl in the busy closet (for it could hardly be called more than that) was soon finished. Her John came stumbling out buckling his belt and the girl, no more promising than the rest, scurried to join the line of girls, readjusting her clothes as she did. 

Frederique was about to turn to leave when she heard the clink of a bottle beyond the last curtain. 

"Who is in there?" she asked the madam. 

"It's just Jessamine," said the madam. "You don't want no truck with her." 

"I'll determine that for myself," said Frederique. 

She started toward the curtain but the madam did all she could to keep herself between the gorgeous woman and her goal. 

"You really don't want her," said the madam. "Jessie's a hard luck case. Come from a hoity-toity society in Kansas City, runned off with a dandy who caught her eye. He took her as far as here and left her for another gal." 

"I'll just have a look," insisted Frederique. 

The madam leaned in close to Frederique and spoke in low tones. 

"Lady, you don't want that gal. She ain't clean." 

Frederique pulled back the curtain and the girl beyond squinted at the light, throwing up a hand to shield her eyes. 

Frederique gasped at the sight before her. Many centuries of life had taught her to recognize beauty in all of its forms, and this girl had truly been beautiful. Now, however, her skin was pocked horribly by sores and pustules, many of them open.  

The disfigured girl barely gave Frederique any notice, but turned again to her cheap whiskey bottle. 

"Leave me alone with her," said Frederique. 

"Like I said, she ain't clean," said the madam. 

The glare Frederique gave her spoke more than any words. The grubby and corpulent madam bowed her head and pulled the curtain closed. Frederique sat on the mattress next to the girl. 

"Would you like a drink?" asked the girl. 

"I don't mind if I do," said Frederique. She waved off the glass and took the bottle in her hand, throwing back a huge swig. 

"So, was he worth it?" Frederique asked quietly. 

The girl looked up at her with sad eyes. 

"It's been six months since I left home," she said sadly. The girl was so utterly defeated she had no energy for tears. 

"Six months," Jessamine repeated in a flat tone. "If I could go back, I'd tell that stupid little girl who was me to listen to her parents. I'd tell her they were right, he was no good. Can you believe that? Six months and everything I had, everything I was is gone and it's never coming back. Syphilis. Some wedding present, right? I saw the sore on his arm and he said it was from a spider bite. What kind of spider leaves an open sore like that? I didn't know any better, but I sure do now." 

"What if I said you could have a second chance?" asked Frederique. 

"Ma'am," said Jessamine coldly. "There's no coming back from where I've ended up." 

"I know you won't believe it, but there is," said Frederique. 

"How?" said Jessamine. 

"Come with me and I'll tell you," said Frederique. 

Jessamine gave a disbelieving shrug, but wobbled to her feet and Frederique offered her a steadying arm. 

They emerged from the curtain to find a silent room, all intent on watching them. 

"The girl is coming with me," said Frederique. 

"When you bringin' her back?" asked the madam. 

"Most probably, never," said Frederique. 

"Now hold on a minute," said the madam. "She's gotta settle up. I been supplyin' her with whiskey all this time. Food, a place to sleep. She's got debts." 

Frederique reached into the coin purse she'd taken from the supply cabinet in the mine and removed three large gold coins and dropped them scornfully into the woman's hand. 

"That ain't enough," said the madam. 

"It's far more than you deserve," said Frederique coldly. "Goodbye." 

Frederique led Jessamine outside. The beautiful, but fierce Afflicted warrior didn't even turn upon hearing furtive footsteps following behind. 

"If you were hoping for more of my money, or some sort of special favor from the mysterious woman in black, by all means keep following," said Frederique. "However, for payment I'll be taking your family jewels. The only decision for me is whether to eat them raw or fry them." 

The footsteps retreated and Frederique led Jessamine into the moonlit desert. 

Frederique took Jessamine's hand and it took some effort for Frederique not to flinch away. Diseases of the flesh were unheard of among the Afflicted. The Affliction would, of course, eradicate such harmful cells, but the stark truth was it wouldn't even allow its host to put itself in a situation where it might get infected. Frederique had known a young libertine among the Afflicted who thought to test the Affliction's aversions. He had attempted to lay with a syphilitic girl and hadn't even been able to finish kissing her before he began retching. 

As they lifted off the ground, Jessamine looked hazily at Frederique. 

"I must be really drunk," she said groggily. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say we were flying." 

"Yes dear," said Frederique. "As we fly, I will tell you of my kind." 

In the air, Frederique gave Jessamine a brief history of the Afflicted, of the life they led, and of the crisis at hand. By the time they had arrived at the mine, Jessamine had sobered up surprisingly as she realized she really was flying, and what Frederique was saying must be true. 




The Afflicted Ch. 12



Her eyes were as wide as saucers when they flew in through the office and over the trip-wires to the tunnels beyond. 

"And you're bringing me here just for the boys?" Jessamine asked. "I've certainly met my share of horny men, but your men become dangerous if they aren't taken care of?" 

"Our women, too, dear," said Frederique. "When I fled Paris after the last conflict, I made the journey without an Afflicted man and I quite nearly went mad. The Affliction has two hungers, blood and lust. When it is denied either for too long, it makes no differentiation. Once the balances tip us over into bloodlust or matelust, it is equally as dangerous. Those natural mechanisms we have in our brains that separate us from the animals begin to break down. Once the Affliction takes hold in your body, you will satisfy their needs - as they will satisfy yours. This is compounded even more by the fact that they are in the mating phase - wakneturst. Had things gone differently, they would be mated as we speak." 

"But, I'll get them sick. Won't I?" 

"No dear," said Frederique. "The Affliction won't allow it. Once you are Afflicted with my blood, it will push out anything that is a threat. It will not be comfortable, but you will be cured of Syphilis." 

"That alone makes it worth it," said Jessamine. "But from what you've told me, won't I be your mate?" 

Frederique noted Jessamine's insight and was pleased at the girl she had chosen. If she had to bring someone into the fold, at least it was an intelligent girl. 

"No," said Frederique. "Just as I passed this on to my children in the womb, you will have my strain but that will be all. It takes a mutual exchange of blood to become mates." 

What Frederique wasn't telling Jessamine was that there was a good chance she would end up being mated to Claude, Jacob, or both if their forced confinement took more than two days. 

"I'm having a hard time understanding every part of this," said Jessamine. "But I understand the basic ideas. I'm ready." 

"Now Jessamine," Frederique said, "I do want to be clear on what you are accepting. You will never see the sun again. You will never see your family again. You will have few, if any children." 

"But I'll be healthy again?" she asked. "And I'll live for a long time?" 

"Possibly centuries," agreed Frederique. 

"Look at me, Frederique," said Jessamine, indicating her scarred and pustule-marked skin. "I've already been disowned by my parents. I've been abandoned by the man who seduced me. Shouldn't the answer be obvious?" 

"I know, but I had to ask." 

"So, how do we do this?" asked Jessamine. "Do you bite me?" 

"I could," said Frederique, "If not for two things. One, it isn't the best way. Two, my Affliction would likely not let me bite you because of your illness. I'll get the things I need." 

Jessamine waited in the tunnel while Frederique retrieved supplies from the office. 

Frederique returned with a bag and then led Jessamine down the second tunnel to the sleeping quarters. They entered the sleeping room on the left. 

"Please remove your clothes," said Frederique. "You won't need them for the next few hours." 

While Jessamine disrobed, Frederique pulled some clean sheets from the pile the boys had washed and she had dried. She made up a lower bunk then beckoned to the girl to lie down. 

The term was the French Disease, which was a term that insulted Frederique to no end. Galen had determined that the disease had been brought from the new world by the crew who had worked for Christopher Columbus, but it was no simple illness. It had been the result of a minor sexual disease in the natives of America intermingling with the smallpox cells endemic in the European sailors. As a result, smallpox had lashed out and created a biological genocide in America, while Europe had received syphilis in return. Regardless of what it was called, the scourge was currently wreaking havoc with Jessamine's once-lovely body and skin. 

Frederique blanched upon seeing the extent of the sores on the girl. Jessamine couldn't help but notice the other woman's revulsion. 

"It's horrible, isn't it," said Jessamine tearfully. 

"It is," said Frederique. "When time allows, I will personally assist you in tracking down that husband of yours if you like. God knows how many women he has infected, or continues to infect. Now lay back dear, I'll need to restrain you." 

Jessamine complied, but looked up at Frederique fearfully. 

"Do you have to?" she asked. 

"I'm afraid I do, dear," explained Frederique. "Afflicting a mortal is usually a quick and often joyful experience. However, when someone has an illness as serious as yours, the body will fight the Affliction. The first stage can trigger a horrible panic in your body, and all you will want to do is run or perhaps even harm yourself." 

"How long?" asked Jessamine. "How long does it take for the first two stages?" 

"One can never tell. I have seen it pass in mere minutes, or it can take as long as a full day. The fact that you have this disease will certainly complicate the issue." 

As Frederique had been talking, she had been cuffing the girl's hands and feet to the bed. 

"With luck, it will not be a full day," said Frederique. "As it is, I will have to make accommodations for taking care of the boys until you are fully turned." 

"Accommodations?" asked Jessamine. "Do you mean... you? But Claude is your son." 

"Jessie," said Frederique, "there are so many intricacies of our kind you will have to learn. For now, I must do what I must do, and pray I can keep them at bay until you are ready. I hope that doesn't disgust you." 

"Frederique," said the girl, "I am hopefully getting my life back after going down a road that took me places no girl like me could have ever imagined. I am in no place to judge." 

"Wonderful attitude," said Frederique. "I believe I am adding a good contribution to our kind this day." 

Frederique removed a large syringe from a medical kit. She found a vein in her arm easily and withdrew a full 100 CC's. 

"Just remember," she said soothingly. "When the fever is at its worst, remind yourself that you will be beautiful again. All of these sores will be a distant memory." 

"I dearly hope so," said Jessamine. 

The young woman winced as the needle entered her arm and the warm blood began to flow into her veins. 

"Hmm, that actually feels nice," she said. "It's so warm. How long until..." 

The girl's eyes fly open in a panic. Frederique quickly pushed the rest of the blood in with the syringe and pulled the needle out just in time. Jessamine's entire body bucked and she cried out in agony. 

"This was a mistake!" Jessamine said. "You, you're a monster!" 

"Yes, dear," said Frederique patiently. 

"You've killed me, haven't you," Jessamine cried. "You want to feed on me, or something worse! Oh my god! It's burning!" 

"I'm so sorry," said Frederique. 

"No you're not!" cried Jessamine. "Get it out! Take it out! Cut my wrists and let this horrible poison flow out of me." 

Frederique did not say another word but stood and made ready to leave. The pustules on Jessamine's skin were beginning to boil. Had Frederique been a biologist, she might have been able to see the tiny spiral-shaped syphilis cells being gathered and pushed out of the open sores. As it was, her stomach simply turned at the sight of the girl's skin roiling like a pot of filthy soup as the Affliction undertook the job of cleansing its new host. 

Frederique calmly walked away to the sounds of the girl cursing her name. She was too long-lived to let it bother her. 

Frederique went and sat down in the mine office. The boys found her waiting for them when they returned about a half an hour later. They eyes were filled with primal excitement. 

"We found another mine," said Jacob. "Two miles up the canyon." 

"We also found girls," said Claude. "There's a cabin two miles or so away. They are very pretty. We can catch them, bed them, and fly off so it doesn't seem like anything more than a dream to them." 

"It wouldn't be enough," said Frederique patiently. 

"But they were so nice," said Jacob. "We could smell them. Their blood was pure, their bodies were lush. It took every ounce of restraint we had not to fly in and take them." 

"I'm proud of you for controlling yourselves," she said. "Now come with me. We've some business to attend to." 

Their hungry eyes had been undressing her since they'd come back. She walked ahead of them and could sense their hot breath as they panted after her. She could practically feel their hearts beating in their chests...and filling their loins below. 

They reached the sleeping quarters and an angry growl startled them from the other room. 

"Is that them," said Jessamine in a raspy voice. "Are those the animals you've brought to feed on me?" 

The boys looked in and pulled back with revulsion. 

Jessamine was a sight out of a gothic horror novel. Her sores had gone from smaller to larger and the skin that wasn't marked was almost glowing from her fever. She truly did not look human. 

"I'll eat them instead," she growled. "Bring them here and I'll show them pain! Let me free!" 

Frederique was thankful the steel door between the two rooms did not have a viewing grate. She closed it with a clang and Jessamine's angry shrieks were greatly muffled. 

"What was that?" asked Claude 

"That is my relief," said Frederique. "She is horrible now, but you'll be surprised in a few hours." 

"Your relief for what?" asked Jacob. 

"Boys," she said. "Go over there. Sit. Remove your clothes." 

"Why?" asked Claude. 

"My son, I know that even through your lust-fogged mind you are smarter than that. We have some things that need taking care of, so let's get it out of the way." 

"But wait," said Jacob. "The other mine, aren't we going to move?" 

"Oh no," said Frederique. "Sending you two on that errand was a diversion. We need to guard against the finest of the Afflicted coming after us. The last thing we want is to be caught unsuspecting in a strange place. Here we can be prepared and have a chance of defending ourselves." 

While the boys undressed, she carefully explained the battle plan of exactly what they should do in the event that the trip wires were triggered. 

"If we hear the alarm, we must act swiftly, no hesitation," she said. "I expect a second sweep will be here in a day or so." 

The two boys were fully undressed now and sat on the plain couch as Frederique instructed them. 

Jacob's cock lay nearly erect on the couch next to his leg, while Claude's was quite full and rested against his stomach. 

"I supposed I should get rid of these pesky clothes, too," she said. 

She grinned a devilish grin at seeing their two impressive members rise up to full height and length when her dress fell to the floor. 

She bent over to pick up her dress, giving the boys a good view of her breasts which were now even more visible beneath her corset. Folding and placing her dress on the table, she crossed over Jacob. 

"Jacob, be a dear and unlace me," she whispered. 

Jacob gulped nervously and was barely able to comply, his hands shaking so much from nervousness and sexual tension. Frederique removed the remainder of her underthings, but decided to leave her high laced boots on, not wanting to make the boys wait any longer and it took quite some time to fully unlace the elegant footwear. 

She sat down between them and reached out, sliding each hand down their youthful, smooth chests and then further down, brushing playfully over their thighs. 

"Well now, it's been a while since I found myself in this position," she said. "This definitely takes me back to my Academy days. So, young cadets, let's see what happens." 

She was soon rewarded with the thrilling sensation of a hard cock in each hand. 

As she began stroking, she tried to keep a clinical perspective about what she was doing. She noted that Claude's tool was indeed as massive as she remembered it and possibly slightly larger than the last time she had pleasured him (probably because it was entirely engorged from his long wait). Her hand took a deliciously long time travelling its length, and her fingers and thumb couldn't quite touch when wrapped around its girth. 

Jacob's cock wasn't as great in circumference. Her right hand could just complete the circle around his hot and pulsating shaft. As she stroked him, she was surprised to note that he had the edge in length. She didn't need a ruler for this. She could tell by feel from the length of the journey each hand took as she stroked the manly tool of each boy. 

"I'm a nurse" she thought to herself. "This is a simple duty and I'm providing a needed service to help them through a difficult time." 

She continued telling herself that hoping it would help her maintain a bit of distance. That worked well until she felt the lips on her right nipple. She had been stroking vigorously with her eyes closed and Jacob had bent his head down to suck hungrily at her breast. His tongue danced playfully over her rigid button and she moaned involuntarily. 

She was suddenly reminded that she too had gone for over a day without a partner. She too, though not in wakneturst, was desperately in need of release and companionship. 

Claude followed suit and the feel of two sets of lips on her nipples caused her to arch her back in sheer pleasure, pushing her breasts harder against their hungry mouths. The boys began to groan and their hums of pleasure sent even more lovely sensations through her breasts. 

Jacob's hand was the first to find its way between her legs and she hissed with delight as his fingers pushed tenderly into her glistening hole. His thumb soon flicked over her clitoris and the randy beast lurking within her was truly awakened. In a surprisingly short time, she felt a spasm beginning. 

Her stroking stopped. Clamping her hands fiercely down around each cock she squeezed desperately as the climax wracked her body. When the strongest of it passed she resumed her stroking, but this time with more intense and strong movements, tugging at each cock with an almost angry motion. Her hand bounced down to the base of each cock with an authoritative thud faster and faster with each stroke. 

Still, she needed more. Pushing the boys' mouths and hands away from her breasts, she slid off the bench and knelt in front of the boys, who instinctively moved a bit closer together. 

She contemplated the two beautiful 'toys' in front of her and debated which one she would put in her mouth first (all the while, keeping a possessive hand on each of them). Claude's she had held before, and even taken in her mouth once when giving an impromptu lesson to her daughter. He was large though, and so big around. 

Jacob, then, she decided. His cock was new to her, and could ease her throat open in preparation for Claude's. 

With her left hand, she continued stroking Claude while she began paying very wet and expert attention to Jacob's long cock with her right hand and her experienced mouth. 

Her tongue worked its way up his long and wonderful shaft before finding its way to the tip. In no time, Jacob was gasping with pleasure as her hand worked him slowly and her tongue tortured him playfully. She started to take him further and further into her mouth and as his long organ began to ask for admission to her throat, she removed her mouth quickly to simply utter the word "stand". 

Jacob did as she asked and Claude followed suit. 

With Frederique kneeling below Jacob, she now had the perfect angle. Many of the girls in the dorms, Hannah in particular, had begun to master the art of taking a man in their throat - but nothing Jacob had ever experienced came close to this. With six centuries of experience behind her, Frederique brought him more pleasure than he could have imagined. 

Frederique's mouth and throat were well trained. She knew just the right moment to swallow, tightening her throat muscles as Jacob slid in and out. She worked him down gradually, but soon his long, very long, shaft was sliding down her throat and his balls were slapping against her chin at the base of each thrust. As she sensed him growing close, she pulled off and turned her attention to Claude. 

Her throat was indeed ready and she moaned happily at the way his cock stretched her raw throat even wider. She pulled out all the stops. Claude made a mental note somewhere far back in his brain, that he needed to revise his comparison of Seiko to his mother. Frederique had tricks of her own that were simply different from the Japanese dynamo's, not better nor worse, just different. 

Frederique slid her son's huge cock down her throat again and again, and she could feel his seed begin dribbling out in tiny drops, signaling a time for a change once again. 

Now was the time. She pulled off of Claude and began pumping both cocks violently in her hand. The boys moaned in ecstasy as she tugged them over the edge. Jacob came first and she pulled his cock into her mouth, inhaling the stunning explosion that followed. She was determined to swallow every drop, no matter how much. She might have, if it hadn't been for Claude who couldn't help but let loose at seeing Frederique sucking Jacob's eruption down her throat. He groaned loudly and a white eruption of fluid shot out with surprising force. It started at her neck, then she aimed his cock with her hand so that it would shoot lower. Gush after gush poured out over her breasts and cascaded downward. The feel of hot cum surging down her throat mixed with the warmth splashing over her quite nearly sent her into another climax. 

Almost, but not quite. With Jacob's cum dribbling down her throat and Claude's white wonder coating her lower half, she was satiated but she knew the boys wouldn't be. Any doubt about that fact was easily proven by the still rock-hard members in her hands. Jacob's cum stopped, but his hips almost immediately began bucking again, urging Frederique to begin stroking him once more. 

"How about a change of pace," said Frederique. 

She stood and with a quick swish of her hand, swooshed the copious fluids from her skin with carefully aimed streams of air. 

She was of average height for a woman, but her boots added a fair amount extra. She turned to kiss Jacob and mentally measured him. He was still too tall for an easy entrance from the front... but what did that mean for a flier? She kept kissing him and levitated vertically, raising herself to the perfect height to lower herself down upon his cock which seemed even harder now than it had been. She let out a satisfied moan as she let gravity have its way and Jacob's lovely cock began splitting her open inside. 

"Oh, so good," she moaned. "So, so very good." 

With Palo (or Galen, for that matter), there was no subtlety. Palo's wide girth spread her wide and the rest was a pleasure, but certainly not a surprise. 

By contrast, Jacob slid easily into her moist passage and it was lovely. The surprise came with his length, which seemed to keep on and on... and on. As she let herself fall further and further upon him, the accomplished swordswoman had the image of a rapier in her mind. Whereas Palo had a broadsword, Jacob had an epée ... but the narrower blade was no less lethal when used with skill. Jacob was indeed impaling her skillfully. 

She gave a joyful cry as his 'weapon' reached the hilt and found places inside of her that seemed to spark nerves in several other parts of her body as well. 

Having been with a flyer for so long, she had long become used to aerial sex. Now, suspended on his lovely, long, slender cock, a memory came back to her of a favorite method she had often used with Christophe. Certainly, she had been able to fly them both (and often had) - but the way she wished to try was a bit different. 




The Afflicted Ch. 12



On the next plunge, she cried out joyfully as he split her even further. 

"Jacob," she moaned, "I am yours to play with. I am weightless and floating, do with me as you will." 

Jacob understood instantly and grasped her hips. Though her hands were wrapped tenderly around his neck, they merely served as an anchor as he lifted her effortlessly up his shaft and then pushed her slowly back down. 

He did it again, but faster this time. 

He did it once more, followed by another, and another. The rhythm grew faster gradually, though she was not descending entirely upon him each time. 

The hunger in Jacob's eyes grew and he paused with her suspended high on the tip before pulling her crashing down violently. 

Frederique cried out with painful joy. 

"Oh God, Jacob," she moaned. 

"Too much?" he asked. 

"No dear, with our kind it is rarely too much." 

She began to shriek out with each thrust as his cock continued to find new spots of divine torture. She felt him reach that critical moment where he could either slow and wait for more, or give in to release. It felt as if he was pushing against her cervix and almost opening it with each long, wonderful thrust. As he paused, she begged him - 

"Don't wait, Jacob, give in. Give yourself to me." 

That was all he needed and he pulled her all the way down once more as he sent a steaming geyser of cum into her inner recesses. Just as before, it kept pouring and pouring out. Frederique was surprised to find herself joining him in climax. The jets of heat pouring deep into her brought on one of the most surprising orgasms she could remember having for quite some time. It was so intense that Jacob couldn't even keep his legs straight. Without a flyer in the mix, they would have collapsed onto the floor - but Frederique did not let them fall. Instead, she lifted him with her powers and let the orgasm play out with the two of them holding each other tightly, drifting in midair. 

Once they were able to speak, she gave a deep but affectionate chuckle. 

"Well done, my young stallion. Well done, indeed." 

Claude had patiently waited through all of this, stroking his manhood slowly as he watched his busty mother put on such an amazing show with his best friend. 

"My turn," Claude demanded when they finally descended to the ground with satisfied exhaustion. 

"Oh Claude," said Frederique. "It really isn't such a good idea if we do any more than we have. I will help you as much as I can, but to go further..." 

"If we can't go further, I'll go take the girls on that farm," said Claude angrily. "They were ripe for the taking. I should have done it when I had the chance." 

The frustrated look on Claude's face tugged at her heartstrings. She knew the burning need in his body. She knew the Afflicted-driven requirement for intimacy, especially with wakneturst behind it. 

What tore at her the most was the very real conflict created by those very needs. She and Claude had natural resonance because he carried her strain of the symbiote. They had even greater resonance because she had sated him a few times on the Siren. With him full of mate lust, it would be a precipitous encounter. 

The reality, however, was that Claude was already a threat. Frustration could turn to anger, and anger could turn into a great danger to either themselves or mortals in the surrounding areas. 

While she knew there were risks, she felt they must be taken. If she made Claude wait much longer for true satisfaction there was the real threat of him taking her by force - both sexually and as a bloodmate. Conversely, if she denied him he would surely go after the mortal girls nearby. If she were to initiate things, at least she could control the encounter as much as possible. 

All of these thoughts raced through her head in an instant before she took her son's hand. 

"Very well, Claude," she said softly. "We will do what we can, but you must let me be in control." 

"I will," said Claude. 

He was sitting on the couch, his proud cock standing tall between his legs. She needed this to be sex, and nothing more. What she didn't want was any sort of emotion to be involved. For that reason, she turned herself around, facing away from him,and sat down slowly into his lap. 

Her interior was stretched and well lubricated from Jacob so Claude slid in easily and the added stretch from his size caused her to moan with pleasure as he spread her further open. She intended for things to be quick, but a small alarm bell went off in her head when she bottomed out on Claude's wonderful tool. 

There was always a silent 'hello' when two Afflicted bodies came together. It was always lovely, magnifying the human body's innate sexual pleasure by blending it with the Affliction - which constantly craved companionship. 

This hello was not that of two friends meeting. This greeting was akin to partners who had been apart for some time. Frederique felt the difference (in contrast to Jacob) and she focused every ounce of her conscious mind on keeping this casual and removed. It wasn't easy, because her Affliction was crying out feelings of love and longing and togetherness that spun through her mind and almost instantly overwhelmed her. That Claude felt it too was obvious. His hands reached around to massage her breasts. His lips were soon kissing her neck and back. 

"No Claude," she insisted (though it wasn't what her mind was crying for). "No kissing. Just this, please." 

That they were both flyers became quickly obvious. Unwittingly, they drifted off of the couch and Claude began maneuvering her closer to him. Fighting through the haze of emotions, she pushed away from him and reached back with her arms so the he could manipulate her with those (and thereby not keep kissing her neck). 

Even that position was overwhelming in the intensity of emotions. Frederique told herself that it was just fucking, just lust, but as Claude pounded her from behind she felt herself falling deeper and deeper in... 

Bloodlust, she suddenly realized. The hypnotic effect of Claude's nerve endings connecting with hers in his heightened state was beginning to win her over. She was forgetting herself, forgetting Palo. All she could think of was Claude and his blood. She longed to take him, to sink her teeth into his neck while he also drank from her. 

In her lusty fog, her mind rationalized her primal needs. She would have none of the doctor's damned needles and exchanges. She was Afflicted and she would take her new mate in the primal way her kind had done for so long. 

She purred as she felt him growing close to climax. 

She released his hands and floated back into him, moaning at the added sensation of her back against his strong chest. As he continued thrusting his cock into her, she turned her head and kissed him over her shoulder. 

The wetness of his tongue against hers stirred her instincts even more. It was time. 

She felt his hotness surge into her and cried out as she joined him with her own climax. 

Then she pulled off of him and spun around. His cock kept pumping viscous fluid into the empty air. It seemed almost comical, because she could have sworn she heard fireworks. As she spun around and slid back onto his still-spraying cock, readying her teeth - she kept hearing a voice calling her name. 

Yet, it wasn't Claude's voice calling her name. It was someone else. Again and again 'Frederique', but it wasn't amorous, it sounded panicked. 

She somehow became aware of Jacob again. In almost a rage, she turned on him, but his panicked face managed to bring her back to some sort of lucid state. 

"The alarm!" Jacob was saying. "It's been triggered!" 

That had been the explosion she had heard. It hadn't been any emotional overload, it had been her trip wires. 

"Fly!" she cried. 

She grabbed Jacob's hand and lifted him off the ground. With Claude directly behind them, they flew to the mine office. 

* * * * 

Elsewhere, Bullet had been making sweeps. Arnet, the master, had ordered them to seek out the witch Frederique and her kin. They had gone through jump site after jump site, and had come up empty. They knew full well that Aimée herself, if she were still alive, would be difficult to find because she could have jumped anywhere with the blind empath. But Aimée had jumped before with the others, and the likelihood was that she would have deplaced to at least one of the common locations. 

Yet they had come up empty again and again. There had been no sign of them. 

Still, something was lingering in Bullet's mind. 

What was the thing? She wondered. What was that key detail her mind couldn't lock in on? 

She was blessed with an almost photographic memory, something that came with the territory of being a deplaceur. The more one could visualize a place the better one could jump, so noticing details became a matter of habit. 

She reviewed the list of places she had been. Mountain hideout- clean, dead volcano - clean, nine mile canyon - clean... 

She stopped. 

Nine Mile Canyon, she realized. It was clean, too clean. There had been no dust, no lingering footprints from past visitors. That was it!" 

She made her preparations and winked out, reappearing in the mine office. It was true. Someone had been there! The room had been rearranged. She had them! She was already visualizing the smile on the Master's face. She headed straight for the storage cabinet to see if any of the supplies had been moved... and then she felt the pull at her feet. 

Clever, she thought to herself. The trip wire was impossible to see, but it was her own fault for not taking greater caution. As she popped back out of the room, she heard the explosions going off. 

She appeared in the Deplaceur's central location and looked about frantically. There was no one there. Protocol dictated she should now bring others. But she was too impatient and wished to please the Master. Bullet waited, frozen with indecision - hoping Brolly or someone else would pass through. After a minute or so, she made up her mind. 

She was a deplaceur. She was Bullet. There was no one who could defend against her attacks. She could immobilize ten people in mere seconds if need be. She would do this for the Master. He would be proud. 

In a blink, she was back in the mine office with her daggers ready. 

The room was the same, but different. She couldn't see anyone, but there was an odd feeling in the room that caused the hair on the back of her neck to rise. 

Her keen senses reached out and she smelled the very distinct aroma of sex. She looked around but couldn't even see a sign of someone there - yet the odor was strong and near. It was a male who had recently been with someone. 

She realized it must be Jacob, the invisible boy who the Master had captured before. All she needed to do was wait. He must be holding his breath and soon enough he would need to exhale and that would give him away. 

"Looking for someone," said a voice. 

Bullet turned and saw her. Knowing the Master's hatred of his father's killer, it was horribly hard not to zap straight out and run her through. Yet, she couldn't. The Master's orders were clear. Frederique must be returned alive at all costs. 

Frederique was standing naked and glistening from passionate sweat. There were splashes of male seed across her hips. She wore no armor, no belt. All she had on were high leather boots and she had a long sword in her hand. 

"Hello Frederique," said Bullet. 

She practically spat the name out. 

"Hello Bullet," said Frederique calmly. "Would you like to surrender now and save yourself any injuries?" 

"I'll risk it," she said with a grin. 

Bullet was evaluating how to best cripple the woman. Frederique was a legendary fighter, but Bullet knew she could take her. The deplaceur decided to aim for the sword arm first. One pass through, and she could sever the tendons and the muscles. 

Without giving the slightest clue she was jumping, she launched herself, arm outstretched with her trademark sword. 

When she materialized in the spot she had aimed for, Frederique wasn't there. 

As Bullet rushed through the spot where Frederique had been, she felt a slash through her shoulder. Bullet winked again into the center of the office. 

Her arm was bleeding profusely. Frederique was floating gently back to the ground, having flown upward with inconceivable quickness. 

"How?" said Bullet, simply. 

"You don't survive an Afflicted war by being slow, my dear," she said. "Care to try again?" 

Bullet switched the blade to her other hand, to her uninjured arm. She jumped again, this time she bounced twice. Once to a spot behind Frederique, though facing her again, and the second aimed as a moving jump aimed at her legs. 

Frederique did not float up this time... but she still parried Bullet's thrust. Bullet was sent careening off balance from total surprise. She winked again to the middle of the office. She felt another pain. Now there was a gash in her left arm. 

"Now, Jacob!" called Frederique. 

Bullet tried to jump, but it was too late. She felt the cold click of metal on her ankle. It was a dampener. She started to thrust toward the spot where she knew Jacob to be, but she was stopped by a battle cry from Claude who now appeared, also naked, flying toward her quickly. She raised her blade with her right arm, now the only one functioning at all. Her eyes followed Claude as he veered off to the right... and that was her mistake. Frederique was directly behind him and swooped in. 

The legendary warrior of the Afflicted batted the short sword away and closed in on Bullet, her hands sliding quickly around the deplaceur's neck. 

Frederique's thumbs instantly closed in on the artery and vein on either side of the neck. Bullet felt her consciousness rapidly leaving her. 

Frederique leaned in close and put her mouth to the deplaceur's ear. 

"You'll be very useful to me," she said. "And who knows, you might just end up with a new mate." 

Blackness overtook Bullet. 

When she woke up, she found herself chained to a bed, cuffs round her ankles and wrists. Her clothes were gone. 

Claude stood nearby, his cock fully enflamed. 

Once she moved past feeling that she had disappointed the Master, Bullet looked defiantly at Claude. 

"Whenever you're ready," she quipped. "It's not like this is anything new for me these days. Chains seem to be my lot in life." 

Claude crawled onto the bed. He did not enter her straight away, but lay between her legs and lowered his head down to her athletic breasts. 

As his lips sucked tenderly at her nipples, Bullet was reminded again of how lust was the only emotion which could drown out the Master's song. 

* * * * 

Thanks, as always, for reading the story. Please do vote, comment, and favorite if you are so inclined.