WARNING, EXPLICIT ALIEN SEXUAL CONTENT You must be at least 18 years old to read the excerpt due to the nature of the content.  Thank you.

Prologue

 National Voice, 05/13/2032, Space Alien Body Saved for DNA Analysis

 Biologist Ricardo Gonzalez confirmed the arrival yesterday of a partially decomposed animal at the Centro Medico/Escuela de Medicina in San Juan, Puerto Rico. 

After a careful examination, specialists described the animal as an unknown species with yellow hair-like fronds on its short tail, large eye-sockets, soft, scaled skin, large claws, fangs, and a crest on its main vertebrae. Could this be one of the famous blood-sucking chupacabras?

"The creature appears to be a hybrid of reptilian and mammalian species, possibly designed in a laboratory by means of genetic engineering," said Captain Leonardo Mendoza, head of San Juan's Crime Lab. “A team of veterinarians and biologists from the Department of Forensic Medicine will study the remains.”

New Gotham Times,05/17/2032, Chupacabras Urban Legend Rears its Head Again

Like other creatures in the cryptozoologist's barnyard, chupacabras have numerous conflicting descriptions. Anonymous witnesses describe a small half-alien, half-dinosaur animal with quills running down its back; others cite a panther like creature with a long snake-like tongue; while another segment of the population will swear they’ve seen a hopping lizard-like animal which leaves a trail of sulphuric stench. Such creatures are known as Anomalous Biological Entities [ABEs] in UFO circles.

Evidence for these so-called chupacabras remains little more than speculation.

Chapter One

The throbbing bass of the brothel’s sound show roared through Rulagh’s bones along with the pulsing lights above the mating rooms. Acrid stim-smoke saturated the air and made his eyes water. A holographic display of a high caste whore filled the ceiling. The crest on her scalp had darkened to a shade of red-black that matched the distended nipples of her scaled breasts. Rulagh flicked his tongue out. The display’s pheromonal musk tasted stale.

Most of the rooms at the first level had discreet ‘In Use’ signs flickering over their entrances. A selection of whores, male and female, strutted on the ramps wearing glitter-crusted sensilk slit open, front and back, to display their aroused crests and the spunk-drenched scales of their pubic wedges. Rulagh’s ipex hardened in anticipation of mating and three-inch long claws slid out from the slots under his nail pads. He chose the tall female with small breasts whose iced melon scent promised passion. She pulled him after her into the nearest unoccupied room.

Her name was Shrusia. Her drugged pupils were dilated so wide, her eyes looked black instead of red. He ran his claws cross the tips of her crest, down the iridescent scales of her belly and sliced her sensilk robe apart. She stretched her body out upon the mattress that took up most of the space in the room and opened her legs. He unfastened his pants, slipped them off his hips, then knelt between her legs and bent his head. Her cool taste exploded into flames against his tongue.

Shrusia laughed and pumped her hips while he savored the sweet taste of her sex. Finally, he could wait no longer. He plunged his engorged ipex into her wet slit. She twisted under his eager thrusts, raking her claws across his back when he spurted his first load of spunk into her slit and upon her scaled belly. 

He lowered his head to her breasts and licked the white trails of spunk from her soft, scaled skin and engorged nipples. His ipex hardened again.

This time he turned her around, pushed her to her knees, gripped her tight muscled hips and slammed his erection into her ass and slit like a Shrennan in full mating fury. Shrusia dug her claws into the padded floor, ripped more holes in it and screamed with pleasure. “Yesss. That’s the way I like it. Give it to me hard and fast.”

A klaxon blared from the upper floor level. The last thing he needed was to be rounded up in a police raid. Rulagh jumped off the bed, grabbed his pants, pulled them on and raced out the door into the hallway.

An over muscled male staggered from the adjoining room, hissed with anger and aimed his clawed hand in a wild blow. Rulagh shifted his head and the other male’s claws glanced along his jawbone. The claws would leave a bruise, but for the moment, Rulagh scarcely noticed the pain under his own adrenaline rush. He flung himself backward as if he’d been hit square in the face.

If his opponent were sober, he’d unsheathe his toe claws and try to disembowel Rulagh with them. Instead, the drunken fool turned around and peered up the crowded ramp while the raid klaxons blared their warning. Taking advantage of this distraction, Rulagh kicked the fool aside with his foot claws fully extended, ripped a disabling gash in the male’s leg, and made a hasty exit out of the brothel into the hot, steamy air of the mid-summer’s night.

Two blocks away, he stopped, extended his hand and foot claws and climbed to the roof of an abandoned warehouse. There he lay on his belly while lights and screams below him heralded the arrival of the local law enforcement androids. A quigral climbed over the edge of the roof and flicked its tongue at Rulagh. The tiny red-furred mammal settled on its haunches and started grooming its six-legged body.

Rulagh pulled in his claws and stroked the creature’s fur with a blunted forefinger. It nuzzled his wrist, and a purr vibrated through its body. Rulagh curved his clawed forefinger and scratched the half-grown quigral behind its ears. It purred harder and deeper and leaned against his hand for more. His people looked to the stars to find alien life and forgot about animals. In their own way animals were aliens too. They looked at you with alien thoughts behind their eyes and did their best to communicate their needs without speech.

Rulagh lifted his head and peered at the chaos below. Tomorrow morning was his first day at the Interstellar Veterinary Academy. Instead of wasting his life running drugs or working mindlessly at a factory, he planned to see the other star systems, meet their inhabitants and animals. He anticipated numerous opportunities to meet and pursue suitable long-term mates of equal intelligence among the spacers. He’d heard cross-species marriages were common among spacers. Technology and gene splicing solved the dilemma of incompatible DNA very nicely.

***

Six planetary years later, Rulagh inserted his index claw in the door's access slot. A soft green light glowed above the ID panel and granted him entry to the Interstellar Humane Society.

The sensilk fabric of his pants whispered against his scales. He quickened his stride past Hajna's work area but couldn’t stop his tongue from flickering out to taste her scent and know that Changuh's male spunk saturated her iridescent scales. She must have come straight into work after a long night of sex with him.

A teasing tinge of black traced the sweet curve of her crested scalp. Rulagh shifted his erect ipex to a more comfortable position beneath his robe, ducked into his cubicle and muttered, "Data dump on, stats three, archive four." A holographic image materialized in mid-air and the requested data scrolled up.

Fully trained as an exo-biologist, he could quote from memory the genetic matrices, diseases, feeding, territorial and breeding habits of over thirty thousand animal and sentient species. And with four planetary years in veterinary surgery, he knew how to heal many different species. And kill.

All of his training meant nothing to his supervisors. By the time he gained enough seniority to bid on a fieldwork position, his claws would be worn down to mere nubs. His chances of a fieldwork assignment rated a hundred percent higher than the possibility of Hajna inviting him to stay the night with her.

A series of lost-and-found reports from the star systems within thirty light years flowed past his bored gaze. A lost and found notation scrolled past. He leaned forward, tapped the data flow slot and scrolled back to study the anomalous item. A hiss escaped his parted lips. Wealthy tourists had misplaced six Shrennan during a visit to a proscribed solar system.

The Humane Department had paid them an exorbitant sum for their loss and then buried the report in the archives. Why? What had happened to the Shrennan? Did anyone retrieve the animals before they disrupted the ecological balance of the alien planet? He keyed in a second data slot and rerouted the entire report to his station.

***

Sub-sector supervisor Zesci strolled through the rotating holographic display and swiftly changing streams of data as if she wandered in a garden of wondrous blooms. Brilliant blue and red cyanjewels sparkled on her wrists and reflected the colors of her scaled skin. A sleeveless metallic robe woven from spun gold filaments hung straight and heavy from her shoulders to her jeweled sandals. Green and gold with silver embroidery, it shimmered with every step she took.

Rulagh's tongue itched from the acrid scent of her anger.

She reached up. A cascade of calculations flowed under her hand and extrapolated the population growth potential for six feral Shrennan during the time span of eighty of the obscure planet's years. She inserted her foreclaw into the holographic data control grid and tweaked the parameters. The image shifted and displayed fluctuations in population growth based on hurricanes, tornados, fires and contact with the natives.

“Rich tourists and lost pets.” Zesci raked her hand through her crest. She seated herself in a black resin wood chair and stretched her arm upon the gilt carved armrest. The heavy robe fell into sculptured folds over her slender legs and ankles. “Our department should have sent an agent to retrieve those animals as soon as the report arrived. If this news reaches the interstellar council, they might decide to reduce our funding and reroute animal control to another department.”

Zesci’s scent screamed rage and Rulagh's claws unsheathed themselves in automatic reaction. His muscles clenched, and his heart readied his body to answer her challenge. No one would notice or regret his demise, if she clawed out his throat for compiling this extrapolation and bringing it to her attention. He sheathed his claws and deliberately shifted his thoughts to mating instead of fighting.

Zesci stared at him and flicked out her tongue. She stroked her chin. “Your scent brings memories from my first season.”

Rulagh let his gaze skate past her face and focused on the floating display of ever-changing calculations. It was enough to know he'd used his wits to derail her rage. Now he needed to damp it down. No matter how much he wanted to gain ranking, seducing his supervisor wasn't his style.

Zesci surged to her feet and circled him, letting her heavy robe brush against his leg. She trailed a blunted finger down his arm and deepened her scent to pure musk. His ipex responded with a painful hardness.

She murmured, “The problem will not disappear if we ignore it.  Of course, if we remove the Shrennan, we solve the problem. The only question is how are we going to accomplish this task.”

Rulagh ran a quick and dirty estimate of the cargo space needed to ship anywhere from ten thousand to thirty thousand Shrennan to headquarters containment facilities. Did they have the spacecraft, agents and funding available for the scope of this project? He doubted it.

Zesci positioned herself in front of the holographic data field. “There are too many Shrennan to remove. Our best option is to minimize the damage by hunting them down and destroying them.” She sighed. “I hate to do that. They're such beautiful creatures. ”

She slid her index claw in the wall data slot and turned off the image. “The team will consist of four agents. You will be the fourth member. ”

Rulagh's heart slammed against his chest. He took a deep breath and retracted his claws.

Zesci rubbed her chin with her index claw and stared at him. “Don't celebrate too soon. I estimate at least ten solar years on that planet before the task is completed. Also, you must keep your presence secret. You know the rules. An interdicted planet cannot be admitted to the Interstellar Council until it achieves the proper technological level without outside assistance.”

“There will be no communication, no trips home for those ten planetary years. Your fellow agents will resent the restrictions and time frame for this assignment and will shunt the bulk of the work upon your shoulders rather than sully their claws with menial tasks.”

Rulagh mentally reviewed the funds in his private accounts. Hopefully he had enough to purchase adequate gear. He'd be lucky if the other team members allowed him access to the ship's emergency supplies.

Zesci lifted her bejeweled hand and gestured at the exit. “Report to medical for decontamination, a full health scan and immunizations. Tomorrow, you will report to the sleep-learning facilities. Hopefully, our cultural, biological and geographical information for that planet won't be too outdated.”

He bowed and carefully backed out of the room. His first fieldwork assignment. The successful completion of this task would accrue numerous honors and increase his official orros ranking by at least three levels.

***

The mothership positioned itself behind the solar system's ninth planet and transmitted a confirmation hypersignal to headquarters. Rulagh leaned against the bulkhead on the opposite side of the bridge from the others and waited for their briefing to begin. He reminded himself not to snarl or let his scent reflect his irritation. Seven weeks confined in the ship smelling Changuh's spunk on Hajna's and Anci's skin had him ready to climb the walls.

The ship's Artificial Intelligence announced in dulcet feminine tones, “Supervisor Zesci coming online.”

Zesci's image coalesced in the center of the bridge. A jeweled corset clinched the waist of her full-skirted cloth of silver. She lounged in a chair carved from a solid block of crystal. An attendant painted the tips of her finger claws with glitter. Her gaze focused on Hajna. “I've agreed to give a final briefing during non-work hours rather than delay your mission. Don’t dawdle over your presentations. I don't want to miss my great-grandson's naming day festivities. Show me your disguises.  Detail your preparations.  Are there any last minute changes in the plans?”

Hajna strutted across the floor. A sheath of red fabric alternated with transparent panels spiraled from her left shoulder to mid thigh. The red spirals barely concealed her breasts and hips while exposing the rest of her skin under the transparent sections. A torrent of white blond hair covered her scalp and flowed down her back.

Rulagh studied the soft pale skin, pink lips and heavy breasted body Hajna now wore. The soft flowing lines of the species she’d copied had its own unique beauty akin to the elegant curves of a purebred racing Summazian. But despite the fact that to all intents and purposes her physical appearance duplicated the native species, he could still identify her distinctive ochre grass scent.

Zesci tapped her chin and studied Hajna’s appearance. “Why so pale? Are the natives an albino species?"

Hajna touched the blue stone on her left earlobe and twisted it counterclockwise. Her skin darkened to golden brown then into a blue-black shade. She twisted the earring on her right earlobe and her hair shifted color from white blond to reddish blond, to brunette and true black then returned it to blond. A clockwise twist on the earring shifted the hair from straight to kinky and back to straight. She flexed her hand and displayed painted fingernails. “These non-retractable claws are dangerous. I almost poked my eye out a few minutes ago. ”

“Very impressive.”  Zesci smiled, turned her head and peered at Anci and Changuh. “Your camo-skins look natural. The natives will never suspect your true identities.”

She shifted her gaze to Rulagh's outfit of jeans, sandals, and a hooded jacket over his arm. “Why aren't you wearing a camo-skin?”

Rulagh stepped forward and bowed. Soon, very soon, he'd be free to accomplish his job without interference. There was no need to verbalize his lack of personal urros within the team’s structure. “The finance department gave the team only three camo-skins. My assigned sector is a small rural island.”

He unfolded the hooded jacket and held it up for her approval. “Using the facsimiles of native clothing we created from reviewing their commercial broadcasts, I will conceal my face and skin during daylight hours and hunt only at night. I foresee no difficulties with hiding my appearance.”

Anci circled the bridge and displayed her coal black skin, kinky hair, skin-tight jeans and tube top. “I like this skin color better.” She spun on her heel and looked down her nose at Rulagh as if he were a piece of trash dumped on the bridge. “His assigned location contains the largest concentration of Shrennan. Instead of wasting the time sending him in to kill them off one by one, I think we should use a low radiation bomb on the island. We shouldn't have too much trouble mopping up the stragglers after that."

Changuh adjusted his business suit, wrapped his arms around Anci's and Hajna's waists and pulled them close. “That sounds like a splendid plan to me.”

Rulagh gritted his teeth. If they goaded him into losing control, he'd spend the entire mission confined to the brig.

Zesci lifted her hand. “Changuh, Anci and Hajna, you need to place the agency’s urros above your personal urros. Bombing an island of sentient beings in order to eliminate a population of feral Shrennan would cause a black mark on your next performance evaluation and force me to fire you for flagrant disregard of common sense, agency urros and departmental regulations. The last thing I need is an interstellar inquiry and review of my department’s funding because of your stupidity.”

Chapter Two

            The bookcases covering an entire wall of the living room remained empty, a constant reminder for Sonia to watch her back and never trust anyone again. The blank shelves represented fifty thousand dollars worth of Star Wars statuettes, original masks and movie props stolen six months ago by her ex-boyfriend to finance his cocaine addiction.

            God damn him to hell. Daniel had played her for a fool. With his pretty face and hunky bod, he’d sweet-talked his way into her life, her apartment and her bed. That’s what hurt hurt the most, she didn’t find out he was a drug addict until after he’d ripped her off.  Throwing Daniel out of her apartment after the fact was a bittersweet victory at best.  Before she let another man into her bed and her heart, she’d hire a detective agency and let them do a complete background check of his entire life.

            She’d had no contact from her father for over a month now. Had he become engrossed in a new business venture? When was he going to invite her down for another visit in his mansion in Cabo Rojo? The last time she visited him was when she was ten. But that trip had been short-lived; he’d hustled her back to Texas two weeks later saying the political climate was too dangerous for her to live with him.

            She was twenty-one now, old enough to take care of herself. Not the year old baby she’d been when her mother ended up dead during a drive-by shootout between two rival drug gangs in San Juan. A handful of faded holopics and a vague memory of a soft voice were all that remained of her mother’s existence.

            Oh yes, her mother’s death had transformed her father. He’d sunk all his money into security systems development. Now, twenty years later, he owned five plants in Puerto Rico that produced the latest developments in home and corporate security systems.

The trust fund he’d set up to pay Aunt Joan and Uncle Ernie to raise her had blossomed into a corporate entity. She now owned ninety percent of the stock in his corporation, Rodriguez Ltd. Because Rodriguez corresponded to the surname Smith in English, the connection between her and his business interests remained hidden behind an elaborate security screen.

            Sonia sighed, pushed her knee length braid over her shoulder and turned on her sofscreen. An ‘urgent’ icon blinked in the email box.  Could it be from her father?

She opened it with trembling hands.

It was from her latest customer/employer, Jake Desmond at Nowan Corporation.

What was he up to now? Requesting a VR conference at this stage of the game meant trouble. She moved the email into a special folder as evidence of his request, closed all of her files, double-checked her computer’s firewall, flicked her camera system to VR conference mode, and clicked a link open between her and Nowan Corporation’s webnet site.

The VR screen lit up with a real-time camera view showing Jake Desmond seated at an oversized teak and marble conference desk. Blond haired and blue eyed with a sapphire glinting at his left earlobe, he straightened the cuff of his impeccably tailored slate gray business suit and flashed a predatory grin. “Ms. Rodriguez, your work is excellent but I regret to inform you that I’ve received notification that the funding for website development in my department was terminated today.”

            Sonia leaned closer to her camera lens and stretched her lips into an equally predatory smile. “That’s all right, Mr. Desmond. I rigged up a private backdoor for that website when I designed it.” She poised her hand over the keyboard. “One keystroke will cause a fatal error and wipe the contents down as if it never existed.”

            A flicker of admiration appeared in Mr. Dawson’s cold gaze. He sat back in his chair, propped his hands under his chin and inclined his head in a barely perceptible nod. “You take no chances, Ms. Rodriguez.”

            An arched eyebrow was her response. “Where’s my fee?”

            He yawned, reached for his keyboard and typed in a few words. “I’m sending it now to the account number you provided.”

            Sonia glanced at the smaller sofscreen set up beside the one she was using for their VR conference. The fund transfer dump flickered across the second screen. The screen flashed blue then emptied the entire amount from that account into a subsidiary one controlled by her trust fund. “Thank you, Mr. Desmond. It’s always a pleasure doing business with you.” She tapped the close key and ended their conference. No sense in leaving the VR window open long enough for him to place a trace on her program and try to retrieve his funds.

            “Yes.” She spun around the room in a dizzy whirl and collapsed on the bed. “Now I can shut everything down and have fun.”

The Renaissance Faire was scheduled to begin tomorrow morning with two solid weeks of jousting competition. She hoped to win first place this year in journeyman level in quarterstaff. Two weeks of camping in her pavilion at the Faire with no cell phones, no computers, no email, no VR games, no news vids, nothing whatsoever to remind her of modern civilization or her ex-boyfriend, Daniel.

***

            Sonia adjusted her tunic for the eleventh time. No matter how hard she tugged at the hem, she couldn’t disguise the full curve of her breasts and wide hips. Tights and soft leather boots completed her attire. Thin-soled boots were the best and hers fit her like gloves. She could feel every stone, every textural change through the soles and maintain a secure grip with her toes during a bout.

 A blazing July sun climbed to high noon position in a cloudless pale blue sky. Sweat trickled down her neck. The man in front of her bowed to the Field Marshall and stepped onto the roped off grass enclosure surrounding a five foot deep swimming pool with a single log balanced across its fifteen foot width.

She took a deep breath, stepped forward in the line and handed her staff to the Field Marshall. Her beloved quarterstaff measured six feet long and was carved from solid oak. Two years of sweat during daily practice bouts stained the center. It met the rigid standards of tournament level competition.

The Marshall’s tight brown tunic and leggings emphasized an incipient beer belly and well muscled legs. A salt and pepper mustache matched the thinning hair on his scalp.

            He lifted the staff above his head, a chilling fluidity of movement that showed a lifetime of weapons skill, before twirling it between thumb and forefinger. A grin of pure delight at the staff’s perfect balance lit up his craggy face. He lowered the staff, returned it to her, dipped his quill into the inkpot on his table and checked off her name on the parchment list. “Merry meet, young maid. I wish thee well on the tournament fields.”

            She tightened her grip on the staff and strode forward. Colorful pennants and ribbons decorated the poles and fluttered from the ropes keeping the general public off the jousting area. She ignored the brightly dressed men and women in their tunics and gowns pressing against the ropes and studied her competition instead. There were only five men lined up ahead of her with four more waiting to pass the Field Marshall’s inspection before they entered.

            She propped her staff against a pole and dropped to the ground in a full split, leaned forward, grabbed her foot and stretched with her forehead resting on her knee for a full count of ten. Then she leaned backwards and repeated the stretch in reverse for another count of ten. Strength was all fine and dandy but speed and flexibility mattered more in the long run when it came to this particular type of bout.

            Two fighters climbed the crude wooden steps at opposite ends of the log suspended over the swimming pool.

Sonia stood and continued her stretching regimen. The taller red-haired man wore a black and silver tunic and tights, and had the thick musculature of a body builder. His shorter, black-haired opponent in blue tights had a similar build.

            She couldn’t stop the smirk that formed. Their bout wouldn’t take long. They’d lunge forward and pummel each other until six blows were counted or one of them toppled into the water. No finesse, just brute strength.

            Sonia checked her braid. Coiled four times around her head, it remained securely pinned into position. The last thing she needed at a critical moment was to have her hair flying loose and getting in the way.

***

            IV lines dripped fluid, nutrients, morphine and antibiotics into wasted veins. Wires and electrodes linked the man’s cancer-ridden body to computerized screens that monitored and recorded brain, heart, blood pressure and lung functions. The man’s voice came out in a labored whisper between wheezes and gasps for air. “You’ll like Sonia. She’s tough and smart and she’s really into Science Fiction and aliens.”

            Rulagh flicked his tongue out and tasted the putrid scent of this human’s dying body. “Your daughter sshould be here with you now. Sshe sshould be the one to talk with you, ssit by your sside and hold your hand while you die. Not me, not a sstranger, an alien to your sspecies.”

            “No. I don’t want her to see me like this. Besides, you’re the reason I’ve lasted this long. Without you, without your selkieskin, I would have died six months ago.”

            The scent of death, of decaying organs burned Rulagh’s tongue. “I wish there was more I could do for you.”

            Roberto Rodriguez shook his head. “Too late. By the time I met you, it was already too late.”

Even though he knew it was true, Rulagh still wished they’d met two years ago when the disease was in its early stages. Then, he would have been able to do more than give this human a selkieskin to handle his body wastes and save him the constraints and indignity of a catheter and diapers.

Roberto managed a feeble twitch of his fingers. “It was worth it. At least, this way I met you, got to know you, and became your friend. I arranged it with the trustees. Sonia will move here after I die. She’ll help you kill the chupacabras.”

***

It was time. Sonia pulled a padded leather vest on over her tunic and accepted the leather helmet.  Two men exited the large tent behind the jousting field decorated with streamers of multicolored flags and joined the audience.  An ambulance and paramedics waited discreetly inside that tent.

            The Field Marshal’s voice rang loud and clear over the crowd’s excited murmur. “Our next contestant is Sonia ‘Ladyhawke’ Rodriguez.”

            She climbed up the ladder, stepped onto the log and held her quarterstaff across her body in a protective stance. The crowd roared their enthusiastic approval. “Ladyhawke! Ladyhawke! Ladyhawke!”

            Her opponent posed on the opposite end of the log. He flexed his oversized muscles. He lunged forward, with his quarterstaff spinning like a propeller in his hands.

            She grinned, dropped to her knee on the log and whipped her staff between his ankles. The fool toppled into the water with a mighty splash.

            She rose to her feet and the crowd roared.

***

Rulagh looked away. This human, his friend, was dying. Nothing he could do now would stop this death. If he attempted to bring his ship from its hidden location under the ocean and transport Roberto Rodriguez to the mothership and back to his home planet, it would still be too late. The human would die on the flight out. The disease had progressed too far.

            The only thing he could do now was wait and talk while the man’s body slowly shut itself down. Six months was all the time they’d had together, all the time they’d had to get to know each other’s hopes and fears and dreams.

             “Rulagh?”

             “I am here.”

            His friend gasped for breath. His voice came out in a wistful whisper. “Tell it to me again. Tell me about the Void.”

            The Void, the end and beginning of all life. Rulagh bowed his head and said, “When we die, our essence leaves our body and goes into the white light of the Void. Our sscientists ssought to disprove belief in the Void as a primative ssuperstition. They recorded thousands of brain waves sseeking the answer. They recorded the brain waves of those who died, of those who’d been revived from death and of newborns. They determined that every person of every sspecies has a unique brainwave ssignature.”

            His friend reached for him. “Like fingerprints and DNA.”

            Rulagh slipped his hand into his friend’s grasp and tightened his pewter gray-scaled fingers around the smooth- skinned brown human hand. “The ones revived from death all ssaw the ssame thing, a tunnel and a white light at the end of the tunnel.”

            His friend chuckled. The chuckle deteriorated into a hacking cough.

            Rulagh waited.

            The cough ended with a wheeze. “Finish it, Rulagh. I want to hear you tell it again.”

            “After years of testing, the sscientists found repeats in brain wave patterns. Those who had died, five to ten years later, their patterns sshowed up in newborns. The Void is real. The white light of the Void accepts the memories and prepares the essence for a new birth.”

            His friend smiled. Hope glittered in his pain-haunted eyes. “Sometimes it misses a few memories.”

            Rulagh flicked his tongue out and tasted the slow rot of cancer in his friend’s body. “This is true. Ssometimes a random memory ssurvives in the new body, a random memory triggered by ssight, ssound or ssmell.”

            A long shuddering sigh wheezed out past the background murmur of the machines hooked to his friend’s wasted body. “Deja-vu.” The sigh turned into a gurgle, then stopped. The hand within Rulagh’s grasp went limp.

            The machines beeped. Rulagh stood up. Three flat lines scrolled across on the monitor screens. He turned around. A smile of pure happiness lay frozen on Roberto’s mouth. Lifeless eyes stared out into forever. His friend’s essence had left the body and gone into the Void.

***

            The Field Marshall announced her next opponent. “Jason “Wolfhead” MacDougal.”

Dark-haired and dark-eyed with lean, compact muscles, he flowed up the ladder with lithe grace, shifting his staff from his shoulder with a deft move that made Sonia blink. She’d better watch her step with this one.

            The thick tip of his staff came whistling at her chest. She danced forward, swatted it aside with hers and swung the butt end up to his stomach. He moved sideways and his staff moved like a snake for her ankles.

            She jumped up, reversed her staff, knocked his aside and landed without a wobble. Her opponent leaned back, a look of respect flashing across his face. He expected that one to knock me over, didn’t he?

            Time slowed to a crawl. She batted his staff aside then ran at him with her staff spinning and whistling between her hands. Right, left, right, left, each blow landed true on his ribs. He wobbled. She flipped the staff into her right hand, braced it with her left hand and jabbed it in his stomach like a pool cue. He staggered back, his ankle twisted under him and he slipped off the log. A fountain of water splashed up and soaked her from head to toe.

            “Hold!” The Marshal shouted.

            What the hell?  Why was he stopping the meet? All of her hits had been within the legal strike zones.

            The crowd opened up. Two figures stepped forward, a man and woman, one dark-haired and slim, the other blond and buxom, both dressed in modern garb totally out of place against the Renaissance Faire finery. Aunt Joan and Uncle Ernie!  Why were they here? This wasn’t like them. Faires were not their thing.

            Sonia climbed down in a daze. The aching sadness on Aunt Joan’s face held her captive. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

Chapter Three

Printouts of local newspapers adorned the ceramic-topped table. The word ‘chupacabras’ appeared numerous times in their headlines.

Sonia pulled a sofscreen computer from her breast pocket, unfolded it and keyed in a request for the English version of that word. The translation, goat-sucker, scrolled up on the screen, followed by a sketch and description of gray-skinned, red-eyed, reptilian vampire creatures three to four feet tall with spiny crests on their backs.

“Ugly little shits.” Sonia positioned her computer over the newspapers, scanned them and requested a translation of every story containing the word chupacabras. She laid the computer face up on the table, tapped her fingers and waited. Exactly one hundred seconds later, a list of translated stories scrolled across the screen.

She read them from beginning to end. Some were short and succinct. Most were filled with contradictions and had no real documentation to support their wild claims. Finally, Sonia shut down the computer, slumped in her chair and lifted the heavy weight of tangled hair off her neck. Even with the air-conditioning, she felt stifled and uneasy, as if someone observed her from the shadows.

A faint cinnamon scent teased her nostrils. She pushed the chair back and stretched to work out a cramp in her back from sitting so long. “It’s too quiet. No wonder I’m jumpy.” She raised her voice. “Computer, what kind of music do you have?”

            A pleasant baritone voice responded from the wall panel. “Señorita, the data banks contain complete set of operas, concertos and popular music.”

The climate control panel on the wall displayed an ambient temperature of sixty-five and the current time, ten p.m. “Starting at eight hundred hours tomorrow morning, play random selections until I give an order to stop.”

The extensive library of triple-X holovids in the recreation room may have suited her father, but getting all hot and bothered with only sex toys to relieve her sexual tension wasn't the way she wanted to live. By tomorrow afternoon, she planned to order a decent selection of science fiction holovids to add to the collection. In the meantime, she’d brought her computer files and wouldn’t have any problems linking to her father’s system. This way, she’d be able to manage her website design commitments while satisfying the conditions of his will.

As Sonia moved from room to room, the house computer turned the interior lights on and off for her like an obedient servant. She stood in the foyer beside the marble-topped end table and found nothing changed from the last time she’d checked the room. The carved bas-relief of a rooster over the fireplace in the library looked exactly the same as it did eleven years ago during her last visit to the house. The only thing that had changed was the fact that her father was dead and the empty house made her jumpy.

Sonia retraced her path to the dining room, strolled around the table to the balcony and went outside. She leaned against the wrought iron railing, pulled a holographic picture disc of her father from her jeans pocket and rotated it between her fingers. She took after him. They had identical reddish brown hair, café-au-lait skin and dark eyes. "Dad,” she whispered into the night. “You never told me you had cancer. You never called me. Why didn’t you call me? I would have come down here and taken care of you.”

She returned the disc to her jeans pocket. The terms of his will were very specific. In addition to the regular monthly stipend of twenty thousand from his trust fund, in order to inherit over a billion dollars in stocks, bonds and property, she must move to Cabo Rojo, Puerto Rico and live in his home for one year. She'd rather have had the chance to be with him during the last year of his life instead of coming to an empty house and being handed his money.

Coconut trees soared above the courtyard. The setting sun gave the stucco wall a blood-red tinge. Solid steel gates barred the driveway. Streetlights flickered on. Sonia tapped her fingers on the balcony railing. A rooster crowed and a second rooster answered him. Caught between their territorial instincts and the confusion of artificial lights, they'd exchange strident challenges all night long. She sighed. Only three hundred, sixty-four more nights to go before her year was up.

A low-pitched howl shattered the calm of the evening. Goosebumps raced across Sonia’s arms. She hugged herself, took a deep breath and exhaled carefully. The howl swooped down into a crazed cackle, and the rooster's crow skittered into a terrified screech that stopped in mid-squawk.

She shook her head and squared her shoulders. No way was she going to back down now and return to Texas like some whipped puppy. A swift shadow moved in the corner of the dining room. She spun around ready to defend herself.

A basketball shaped auto-cleaner trundled across the floor into the next room. Sonia snorted and opened her clenched hands. The damn things kept scaring her every time they popped in and out without warning to dust and clean. Programmed to her father's specifications, they sprayed cinnamon scent in the oddest corners of the house. And no matter how many times she lowered the toilet seats, she kept finding an occasional raised one.

Sonia exited the balcony, closed the doors behind her and hurried through the dining room, past the heavy wooden table and carved chairs.

* * *

Crisp sheets on a cold, empty bed crinkled under her body. Six months since she broke up with Daniel and she still missed sleeping with him. She tried to remember the last time she’d had sex and actually enjoyed it. Was it really a year ago? She wasn’t cut out to live like a nun.

            She opened the night table drawer, pulled out a nine-inch vibrator, cradled it against her chest, then closed her eyes and sorted through the possibilities for tonight’s fantasy lover. Would it be Lynx with his cat slit eyes and mottled brown and black furred chest? Or Ariel with his bronze dreadlocks and perfect angel wings glowing in the moonlight? Maybe she’d imagine it with both of them tonight. What would it be like to handle two luscious cocks at the same time?

She stretched out on the bed, turned the vibrator on and rubbed it over her breasts. The delightful purring sensation rolled over her skin. Mmmmmm. She tweaked her nipples and imagined Lynx’s hot, rough mouth sucking and nipping at them. Moisture puddled on the sheets between her open legs.

She moved the vibrator lower, spread her pussy lips apart with her fingers and imagined Ariel’s strong fingers probing before he latched his mouth onto her too. Softly, ever so softly, she ran it across her clit and bit back a moan under the exquisite torture. More moisture dripped from her crotch and soaked her hands.

            She teased her body with the hard silicone instrument, over her breasts and nipples, down her stomach, inside her crotch, and moved it faster and faster across her engorged clit. In her mind’s eye she visualized Lynx’s round, mushroom shaped cockhead pressed against her pussy. He smiled and exposed his fanged eyeteeth. Tiny moans exploded from her mouth.

            Her breasts were hot and swollen. Her dark nipples jutted straight up and itched for a real mouth upon them.

            She imagined Ariel’s satin soft wings stroking her skin while he turned her sideways and lay down behind her with the wet tip of his cock sliding along the cleft of her ass. The image of Lynx jamming his cock inside her filled her mind and she plunged the slippery vibrator deep inside her pussy.

            She glanced over at the mirror and saw her hands moving fast over her swollen pussy in a blur. The bed creaked under the frenzied thrusts of her writhing body. The tension within her pussy increased to a fever pitch.

            She closed her eyes and imagined her body sandwiched between her fantasy lovers.  Lynx kissed her and spread her legs apart.  His hard cock filled her pussy.  Ariel ran his hands down her back, cupped her buttocks and slid his erection into her from behind. The strong muscles in Lynx’s furred ass bunched while he moved himself faster and faster into her. She wrapped her legs around him and met him stroke for stroke. Ariel’s wings thrashed against the bed while he banged her from behind.

            A low keening sound built up in her throat. She turned the vibrator up to its highest setting and held on for dear life. A ragged scream exploded from her wide-open mouth while she imagined Lynx and Ariel’s hot cum jetting into her at the same time. 

            She froze for a moment with her body curved in a fetal position around and both hands buried in the wet, wiry curls of her pussy. A final shudder rippled through her from head to toe. She turned the vibrator off, slid it out and collapsed against the sheets with her sweat-tangled hair clinging to her skin.

Too bad Lynx and Ariel were just imaginary lovers. Sonia opened her hand, let the vibrator fall to the floor and roll under the bed. “Computer. Lights off.”

The room lights clicked off. Sonia blinked and waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. White curtains fluttered at the windows. Soft moonlight filtered itself through the curtains and pooled on the floor.

Sonia sighed. She’d never meet an angel or a cat man but maybe, one day, she’d find the man with the power to truly love her and wouldn’t need those fantasy lovers anymore. She rolled over and hugged the pillow to her chest. Until that man appeared in her life, she’d lay in the darkness, hold onto her adolescent fantasies and pray for the magic to begin.

                                                                     ***

Rulagh stood at the bottom of the staircase. He’d been alone too long. His alien appearance and physical differences had fascinated Sonia’s father but he had no way to predict her reactions.

Now more than ever he regretted not having a camo-skin to wear. If he disguised himself as a human, he might be able to approach her without frightening her with his reptilian appearance.

Her tantalizing scent had filled his mind with fantasies, a totally unexpected reaction. He’d watched her for sixteen hours and waited for reality to break the illusion. He’d memorized the fragile texture of her golden brown skin. Her dark eyes and the rich red-brown tones of her hair filled his thoughts. His fingers ached to stroke the soft golden fuzz on her arms.

The bedsprings creaked in the upstairs bedroom. “Ssonia,” he whispered. Her ripe female scent exploded in his mouth as if he’d bitten into a cool, moisture-laden melon.

Rulagh opened the door to the miniscule bathroom tucked under the stairs and unzipped his jeans. His erect ipex curved up into his hands. He groaned at the feel of the engorged skin sliding between his fingers.

How would it feel to join Sonia in her bed and taste her sweet mouth and slit? He moved his hands in tune with the increased creaking of her bed upstairs. Would she smile when she saw the two-pronged erection of his ipex and circle the swollen tips with her hands? Would she push her hips against him in a heated frenzy while he plunged his ipex deep inside her?

He thought about turning her pliant shape around on the bed and plunging his ipex deep into her slit and ass from the rear. His hands moved in the familiar motions of slip, slide, and slip of skin against skin. His balls tightened and pulsed for release. He spread his legs apart to brace himself, threw his head back and pumped his hands harder and faster. Twin streams of white spunk jetted out from his ipex and splashed the sink. 

Rulagh slumped against the cool porcelain edge and waited for his heart to stop thundering.

Finally, he straightened up, tucked his ipex inside his pants with shaking hands and a sad hiss whistled from his mouth. It was just pheromones. It was just her scent that made her appear so attractive to him. It would never work between them. One look at his reptilian face, and she’d flee from him, screaming with terror.

            A sullen howl echoed in the distance. Rulagh cocked his head at the sound and stretched his lips into a grim smile. A Shrennan hunt would burn Sonia’s seductive influence from his brain and allow him to function in a rational manner again. He turned the faucet on and rinsed his spunk down the drain, closed the faucet, then pulled his jacket’s hood over his head and strode away into the shadows.

***

            The persistent chimes from the vidphone woke Sonia from a deep sleep. She squinted at the time displayed at the bottom of the blank screen. Who the hell was calling her at three thirty in the morning? Could it be a wrong number? Only two people knew where she was and how to contact her…Aunt Joan and Uncle Ernie.

            She tapped the caller ID button. The phone number scrolling across the glowing screen turned out to be the one from her apartment in San Antonio, Texas. She selected ‘accept’ on the conference line but kept the screen off. That way if it were her aunt or uncle on the other end, she wouldn’t embarrass them with her nudity. “Hello?”

            Daniel’s mellow baritone blared from the speaker. “Hey, it’s about time you answered. How are you doing, darling?

            Sonia climbed out of the bed and switched the lights on manually instead of telling the house computer to do so. Daniel was up to no good. She knew better than to believe any of his sweet talk now.

She slipped on a pair of sweatpants and tube top. “What are you doing in my apartment? Who let you in?” 

            “I called your Aunt Joan and told her I needed to get the rest of my things out of the apartment. She let me in. Turn your phone screen on so I can see your pretty face.”

            “It’s three-thirty in the morning, Daniel. I’m not dressed.” She unfolded her computer, logged on and pulled up her private link to her old apartment’s security system.

            “You don’t have to be shy with me, sweetie pie. Ain’t nothing I haven’t seen a hundred times already. I miss you, honey. We used to have some real hot times together. Remember when I took you on the kitchen table and you screamed for more? How about booking a flight for me so I can visit you?”

            Sonia sighed and counted to ten, very slowly. His false endearments made her want to scream at him. “How did you get this phone number? Who told you I’m in Puerto Rico now?”

The connection to her old apartment went through. She keyed in her password and told the system to activate the roving spider cam. It clicked on and gave her a view of the empty bathroom. She typed in another command.  The device unfolded its spider legs, climbed down from its web in the corner of the bathroom and slipped under the door and entered the living room.

The camera focused on Daniel’s surfer boy face first. His long brown hair had come undone from its usual ponytail. He had his head thrown back and his eyes closed.

Sonia changed the focus on the spider cam to a full panoramic view instead of close up. It showed Daniel sprawled in a chair in front of the vid-phone with his legs stretched out and his pants pulled down to his ankles. A skinny woman with long black hair knelt between his legs. He had both hands buried in the woman’s hair and jerked his hips against her face while she sucked his cock.

It was a pity her mobile spidercams weren’t heavy-duty security models equipped with electric shocks. If they were, she’d use them on him right now and watch him flop around like a dead fish. Sonia seated herself on the bed and switched her vidphone from receive to live transmission. An enhanced profile view of Daniel’s flushed face while he gasped and panted his way to orgasm filled the screen.

She braced her arms on the night table and leaned closer. “Hi Daniel. I can see you now.”

His eyes flew open. He straightened up and flashed a brilliant smile into the screen for her benefit. “How’s my beautiful little Sonia doing all alone in her daddy’s house?”

She felt sick to her stomach. How could she have been so stupid as to believe his insincere flattery? Cold dark anger flooded her brain. Too bad he was over there instead of here. Cutting off his balls would feel so satisfying right now.

She stretched her lips into an evil leer, pulled her tube top down and cupped her breasts. “Do you miss me, baby?”

His eyes widened, he leaned closer to the screen and he licked his lips. “Oh yeah,” he breathed.

She moved her hands up and tweaked her nipples taut. Twinges of pleasure jumped from her big sensitive nipples down to her clit. She squirmed under the sudden moisture in her panties. This was supposed to be turning Daniel on, not her. She gave a soft moan and flashed a seductive smile. “Remember that time we got zoned out on weed and I fucked you all night long?”

Another reason why she left him. She’d smoked pot one time with him just to prove she wasn’t a sissy and felt like a total idiot for letting him talk her into it. Another time when he’d used her and played her for a fool.

Daniel pressed his face to the screen as if he wanted to climb through it. “Yeah baby. I miss your sweet loving. Buy me tickets, and I’ll come down on the next flight and give you what you need.”

The skinny brunette’s head popped up into view. She yelled “Bastard!” and slapped Daniel’s face.

Sonia grinned, pulled the tube top up and covered her breasts. Seeing the total shock and pain on Daniel’s face as his head snapped back under that resounding slap was well worth the temporary distraction of getting all hot and bothered. “Sorry baby. I found somebody new, and he gave me more loving in one night than you ever managed to do during the entire two years you had with me. Get the hell out of my apartment before I call the cops.” She reached for the switch and shut the phone off.

“Damn, damn, damn.” Her hands shook while she mangled her hair into a braid, pulled on sweatshirt and slipped her feet into sneakers then tucked a can of pepper spray in her pocket. If she masturbated now, it would make her feel like she still wanted Daniel to make love to her. So what if it was almost four a.m. She was too keyed up to go back to sleep. What she needed to do was run, away from Daniel, her father’s ghost, this house, this island, and most of all, from herself.

The bathroom door under the staircase stood half-open. Sonia stopped in mid-stride. She didn't remember leaving that door open when she went upstairs a few hours ago. Slowly, she pulled the pepper spray from her pocket, held it out with her thumb on the nozzle and nudged the door open with the top of her sneaker.

She turned the light on and wrinkled her nose at the strong cinnamon scent that saturated the air within the cramped bathroom. It must have been a closet at one time. A sink and toilet took up most of the space.

A droplet of translucent white cream marred the faucet. Sonia moved closer. She returned the pepper spray to her pocket, rested her hands on the sink, bent down and sniffed at it. This was the source of that strong scent. Why was it in the sink? Was it perfumed hand cream or a special cleanser left behind by one of her father's automated cleaning devices?

She cleaned the faucet with a piece of tissue. One more odd item for her to look up in the house computer files.

Liquid Silverbooks

Site Map:

♦Home Page    ♦Biography    ♦ Photos     ♦Writing Tips    ♦ What's New?     ♦Guest Book   ♦Domestic Violence Awareness     ♦Favorite Links    ♦Available from Loose-ID!    ♦On the Edge of Time Excerpt     ♦Out of the Dark Chapters 1-3     ♦Down Came A Blackbird 1-3    ♦Covenants Chapters 1-3     ♦Do Not Go Gentle     ♦The Huntress Chapters 1-3     ♦Out of the Dark Chapters 1-3    ♦Christmas Noir Excerpt     ♦Email

Copyright © 2001 Barbara Karmazin
All Rights Reserved

Site designed by The Web Goddess, specializing in websites for writers.  Email The Web Goddess.