{Earth | Now}

One week passed since Twenty-One pinned Kyle to the floor and cuffed him. The hulking Icarus carried Silence to safety, much to the stricken Progeny’s relief. Even in his weakened state, when he recalled it, Story Taker smirked hard at Celindria until she prompted, “What makes you smile so?”

“Even the First Progeny has her limits.”

The mindscape they shared from which she piloted his body shimmered. White beads and coils ornamented her black dreads and braids trailing to her waist. Skin black as a purple calla lily. Eyes the same arresting blue as her descendant, Rayne. Her melodic voice dropped to an unimaginable depth as she assured, “We shall see.”

Presently, Andrew called to them in the cage, “Silence remains asleep, and soon Kyle will require feeding. How much longer do you want to stretch this stalemate out, Celindria?” Despite her stony front, they guessed the identity of his controller.

Inside Kyle’s head, she tsked. “Xelan should have taught his children some manners.” To Andrew, through Kyle’s mouth, she demanded, “Eminent Celindria.”

Story Taker lowered his head back to the floor, resting. Resisting her will’s enforcement throughout his body exhausted him. He spent most of his time on his knees with his shoulders sagging from the weight of despair. Now, he hungered as Andrew predicted. His body dehydrated like a dessicated husk. So thirsty.

This fucking sucked.

To get himself through it, Kyle entertained fantasies of feeding from Silence. His current favorite? Pushing the woman’s shiny black hair with its single blue streak over her shoulder, baring it. Kissing the exposed dark gray skin along her collar until he sucked against her carotid. Teasing. Tasting. Maybe she’d purr for him. Or, even better, moan. Either way, he’d endeavor to make it good for her. Show his appreciation with his hands on her. Inside her—

“Oh, please. She’s out of your league, and you’re tiny mind can’t even fathom by how far.” Celindria liked to jeer and jab at him. As spiteful as she was beautiful. Unfortunately, that was a significant measure.

Fortunately, Kyle’s skin was thick. And his comebacks devastated her. He stuck his tongue out and returned to his fantasies about a woman out of his league who last said she wanted him.

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That’s all that mattered.

He felt the First Progeny’s eyes roll. May they roll right out of her head—

Lynn stepped into the nacre-glass Faraday cage. It wasn’t like her to endanger herself since she and the Doc made their heavy vows. Everyone respected that. But perhaps that massive rifle aimed at his chest imbued her with some confidence.

Celindria’s approving smirk flatlined the hopeful spike in Kyle’s pulse. What was she planning now?

“Do you recognize this?” Lynn asked and raised aim between his eyes.

The psycho in his head humphed and responded, “An Imminent rifle enhanced with a nacre disabler. The sword.”

The younger woman’s brown eyes narrowed with her corneas contrasting against her deep skin. “If I shoot him, it’ll disable his nacre. And you’ll lose control. Am I right?”

“Correct.” Again, Celindria sounded far too confident in that silken response from his awkward mouth. Why would she affirm that information? “But you won’t.” What?! “You want intelligence on Imminent while you have me.”

God damn it! It made perfect sense, but Kyle was beyond ready to return control of his body to himself. In all honesty, he deserved this torment for letting the Progeny down in the past. But come on—

Doc Pablo entered behind his wife. His Nicaraguan complexion paled as he made eye contact with the abomination that was Kyle’s living, breathing puppet body. Couldn’t blame him. Mustering his courage, Pablo cleared his throat and approached with a medical kit. “I need to examine his health. You’ve depleted his nacre. I need to restore it.”

“He wishes Silence to feed him.”

Did Kyle’s body flush while he mentally reddened at that revelation? Or did Celindria control his physical responses to that level of minutiae?

Pablo scanned her with warm brown eyes and scratched his curly black hair in confusion. “We can’t wake her. Will you tell us how to undo what you did?” Humorously, he held out a tongue depressor for which Celindria opened Kyle’s mouth, as if nothing was odd about the doctor receiving permission from a person within a person to examine their tonsils.

Afterward, Celindria assured, “I did nothing. The mother desires the archive. Speak to her of the Atheneum. She will wake.” Again. Not loving the smile. Twisted and jubilant as if in celebration. But of what?

Cautiously, the Doc nodded his appreciation to her. “I’ll try. Thank you. But he won’t be fed from her.”

Well, that knocked the smile off the bitch’s face.

“I won’t risk—you called the disabler ‘the sword,’ no? I won’t risk ‘the shield’ on him. And drop the act. You know what I mean.” With that cool and professional performance, Pablo and Lynn left him alone once more in the cage.

And it suddenly hit Kyle all at once. “You tried to seduce Silence while in my body. You tried to drink from her blood. If you contract the virus from her that locks down nacres, I’d be stuck with you permanently. You fucking sociopathic, megalomaniac bitch—”

“The limits of your vocabulary are about as impressive as the pathetic timing of your deductive reasoning. Now quiet. The actual show begins.” Celindria kept Kyle’s gaze on the door with heavy intensity.

Actual show? Oh, fuck. Silence. He groaned and tried to lift his heavy head—to put up any kind of resistance. “What have you done to her?!”

“I fulfilled a promise made to a friend a very long time ago.”