Brood of Vipers, Maggie Claire [e novels to read .TXT] 📗

“I’ve been waiting and watching for this moment for a long, long time. But I am not a liar,” the woman’s soft voice hisses as she slinks out of the shadows. Her skin is mostly scales, similar to those of a Ddraig. Iridescent green, black, and gold, she practically shimmers when she moves into the moonlight. Everything about her is ethereal. She watches me with a cold, calculating gaze, her lips pulled into a tight, hostile straight line. My hair raises on end as I watch her creep closer, my feet glued in place. It’s like she has charmed me into submission, forcing me to stand still as she comes close, drawing power from my fear.

“Wh…what do you w…want with me?” I stutter through the question, half afraid that her answer will be that she wants me to die by her hand right here and now.

“I want revenge,” the lady whispers, the word reverberating through the cavern ominously. She stands in front of me now, the long, dark claw-like fingers on her left hand reaching up as if she plans to trace my jawline. “We have a mutual acquaintance, and more importantly, a common enemy,” she explains, her talons hesitating as they hover over my eye. Her smile gleams with malice, and I wonder if it takes a great deal of restraint on her part to keep from digging my eye out of its socket. The thought nearly buckles my knees.

“I…I don’t understand,” I confess, hoping my words don’t frustrate the intruder, causing her to attack. “Please, lady, explain what you mean.”

“My name is Vatusia,” she hisses, leaning close as she inspects the Dadeni lines that trace patterns on my face. “And I knew your mother.”

Surely to the gods, my mother never befriended a monster like you, I think to myself, my face growing pale as the Lady Vatusia begins to laugh. Can you hear my thoughts?

“Of course I can, child. The people in Déchets have spent years perfecting our abilities to see into minds, while you Cassians have been scratching away at the dust, struggling to survive.” Lady Vatusia ignores my sputtering outburst at her revelation, clearly not seeing me as any kind of threat to her safety. She sounds rather bored as she adds, “And you are right; I was never friends with your mother. She was weak, too full of pity and empathy to be useful to me.” Lady Vatusia stalks around me, and I feel like a cow she’s sizing up for the slaughterhouse. “But the real reason I am here is the enemy we share.”

“The king of Déchets?” I ask, guardedly watching her reaction for any signs of deception. She sounded so loyal to that other land just a few moments ago. Was she lying then, or is she lying now?

“I am loyal to my country, not the king,” Lady Vatusia snarls, turning hostile. Yet, almost as swiftly as her fury awakens, it fades into nothing more than a tight smile and a frigid stare. “Alaric and his war mean nothing to me or my people.”

“What do you know of the king and his plans?” I wonder, hoping I can glean some useful information from the lady before she attacks me. No matter how I imagine this interlude, it always ends in a fight. So if I can learn anything of significance before the battle begins, everything I endure at her hand will be worth it.

“I am one of his most trusted, child. Alaric values me above all others in his court. I’d be his queen if I could condescend to take such a despicable man to my bed.” Her slender nose wrinkles while she speaks as if the idea of tying herself to the king of Déchets is as detestable as a garbage heap.

“Why do you hate him so?” I question, unsure whether or not I believe what she says. Yet I am careful to keep a tight rein on my tongue and my thoughts, hoping I do not give away my suspicions.

“Do you know what I am, child?” she murmurs, looming in front of me once more.

“She doesn’t. But I do,” Cyrus growls, appearing behind the Lady Vatusia with a wicked looking club in his hand. Before I have a chance to shout, before the lady even has the opportunity to turn and face her unseen threat, Cyrus swings the club at her head.

I watch in horror as he moves, completely frozen in place. Breath rushes from my lungs as I anticipate the moment when the club strikes her. I wait for the dull thud as it pounds into her skull, and I pray it causes an immediate death. I cringe and close my eyes, waiting for the inevitable moment of the lady’s demise.

Yet the bat passes through her as easily as if she is made of air. “You think I’d be so foolish to come to you in person?” Lady Vatusia laughs, waving off Cyrus as though he is a nuisance pest buzzing around her face. “If you truly are that naïve, then you should surrender now. You will definitely lose any fight you attempt against Alaric without a high dose of cynicism, mistrust, cold-hearted cruelty, and paranoia.”

“How are you here?” I wonder, flinching when the stranger’s ethereal eyes focus on me once more. “How is any of this possible?”

“I am a powerful Vibría, child,” she replies, offering me nothing else as if her words require no further explanation. I feel my face grow cold as the lady scoffs at Cyrus, recalling all the atrocities he endured at the hands of the Vibría. “So, you must be the one that battled with my kinsman.” Lady Vatusia waves a dismissing hand at Cyrus, declaring, “You don’t look like you could have put up much of a fight.”

Cyrus raises his club, uncaring that it will not damage the Lady Vatusia. I think he fully intends to swat at her ghostly visage until his limbs grow too weary to