An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication www.ellorascave.com Almost Human ISBN # 1-4199-0513-9 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Almost Human Copyright© 2006 Cat Marsters Edited by Kelli Kwiatkowski. Cover art by Syneca. Electronic book Publication: February 2006 This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 44310- 3502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously. Warning: The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This book has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers. Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E- rotic), and X (X-treme). S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination. E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature. X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart. A H LMOST UMAN Cat Marsters Cat Marsters Glossary The Wall—Separates the Realms. A shining violet curtain that can’t be penetrated except by Faeries, or by humans under heavy enchantment—and even then only at weak places known as Bridges. Realm of Euskara Galatea—Romantic, aristocratic country where the Association is based. Paseilles—Capital of Galatea. Severeges—Galatean coastal town. Iberia—Hot, sensual country to the west of Galatea. Colacochea—Iberian town at the foot of the mountains. Basque—Kelfish tribe living in the Iberian-Galatean mountains. Dacia—Northern country. Dacstein—Dacian town near the Third Bridge. First Bridge—leads to Asiatica. Third Bridge—leads to Peneggan. Realm of Peneggan Port Jaret—Southern port, city closest to Koskwim. Koskwim—Island by the Wall on the south coast, secret home of the Order. Believed by most Realms to be inhabited only by dangerous dragons. Site of the Second Bridge. Peneggan City—Capital of Peneggan. Elvyrn—Second city, famously genteel. Srheged—Northern city. Second Bridge—leads to Asiatica. Third Bridge—leads to Euskara. Fourth Bridge—leads to Angeland. Sixth Bridge—leads to Zemlya. 4 Almost Human Realm of Zemlya Vaznafjörður—River port closest to the Sixth Bridge. Tir na nÓg—Castle fortress, home of the Empress. Saoirsefjörd—Capital city, near the Fifth Bridge. Fifth Bridge—leads to Angeland. Sixth Bridge—leads to Peneggan. Realm of Angeland Lorekdell—City on the River Lorek. Fifth Bridge—leads to Zemlya. Fourth Bridge—leads to Peneggan. Organizations The Order—Based on the island of Koskwim, Peneggan, the secretive Order takes in orphans and young volunteers and trains them as Knights—an elite military. Standard rank is the Dragon, advanced rank is the Phoenix. The Association—A collective of highly desirable women, known as Associées, for hire as male companions. Trainees begin as Fillies and can rise to the rank of Lady. Based in Paseilles, Galatea, in the Realm of Euskara. The Federacion—Mysterious rival of the Order. Based in Iberia, Euskara. 5 Cat Marsters Prologue I knew it was going to be a lousy day when I woke to a woman screaming in my ear that I was a fucking pervert, but I think the real highlight came when I fell five hundred feet and smashed my skull into half a dozen pieces. Still, as Lady Belleveuve was so fond of telling me, there’s no such thing as lousy. The word is “difficult”. It was a difficult day. There was a deliciously soft, warm bundle of smooth skin in my arms and a hot, sweet mouth suckling gently at my breast. The lady of the house. Not that I’m usually into girls, but they do pay well and they’re so grateful. It’s awful what these wives have to go through, a gilded cage of sexual neglect. Just dreadful. There ought to be laws against it. Anyway, there we were, lying all tangled together under her silken sheets, her ladyship quite obviously up for doing the naughty again, when the maid came in and started screaming. I opened my eyes and glared sleepily at her. “Do I tell you you’re a fucking pervert for doing your job?” “I cannot work under these conditions!” the girl cried, her words carrying a slight Iberian accent. “It is dreadful, a house of perversity! First the stable boys and now this— this puta!” “Hey,” I said severely, “I am not a whore, I am a registered Associée. Gimme some respe—” What she’d said before that suddenly registered, and I turned to her ladyship, who was cowering beside me. Cowering in her own bed. Dear oh dear. “Stable boys?” “I thought a younger man might help,” she whispered. I rolled my eyes. Her efforts were commendable, but if you like girls, you like girls, and no amount of strapping young men will help. Now, me? I love strapping young men. Really love them. They’re something of a hobby of mine. The maid flounced out and her ladyship yanked on a robe and ran after her, pleading in Iberian. At first I thought it was pathetic—then I thought about how hard it really was to find someone who could do your hair properly, and relented. I wandered downstairs, where the rest of the staff were suitably subservient, and snagged some breakfast from a hot young thing in the kitchen. “You are my lady’s guest?” he asked, bowing as he poured more tea from a silver pot. 6 Almost Human “Guess so.” “It is an honor, madam.” See, that’s why I like working in Galatea. They respect me here—the maid notwithstanding. They understand what an Associée really is. Not a geisha, not a whore. Something in between. You need a beautiful woman for any purpose, I’m yours—at a price, anyway. I suppose I ought to introduce myself. Since you’re paying, I’ll do it the traditional way. Belle jour. I am Chance, Lady of the Association. Your desires are my pleasure. A Lady is a senior member. High-ranking. One of the best. I started as a Filly when I was a day over the required age. It didn’t take me long to rise to my current position. They say I have natural skill. Well, it’s only to be expected. By the time I wandered back upstairs the screaming had died down and her ladyship was sitting at her writing desk, dressed in a beautiful brocade robe. I stepped up behind her silently, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. She shivered delightfully. “I’m sorry about all the screaming.” “It’s all right,” I said. “I’ve had wives come after me with crossbows before.” “I didn’t know your lifestyle was so dangerous.” “You have no idea.” I left her and went in search of my clothes. Mirabella, the shocked maid, had politely taken them away last night before she realized how sinful things were going to get. I found them in the dressing room, in shreds. “Can I borrow a frock?” I called through. Her ladyship laughed throatily. “Ma cherie, after last night, you can borrow anything.” Hmm. Appropriately dressed—for an Associée is always appropriately dressed—I took my leave of her. She was glowing, beautiful. Yesterday when I’d arrived she’d been ever so shy, a little mouse. It’s good to get some job satisfaction. In several ways. The most sophisticated form of transport available in the Realm of Euskara these days is the horse-drawn carriage. In Peneggan you can fly on dragonback. In Angeland they even have an iron railroad. But here in Euskara it’s horses all the way. Quaint. Lazily, I penned last night’s details in my log as the carriage rattled away, occasionally staring out the window at the scenery. It’s pretty here, hazy lavender fields stretching into the distance, scenting the air. Soothing me. I had a hotel room in town, from where I could take messages from the Association headquarters in Paseilles. The coach was halfway there when my scryer buzzed. I pulled the hemisphere of rock out of my bag and turned the polished black surface to my face. It shimmered red for a second or two, then cleared as the connection came 7 Cat Marsters through. The image was hazy and green, which meant my caller was off-Realm—and, seeing as how I was being contacted by scryer, obviously it was someone from my other job. The less fun one. “Phoenix 20572?” I sighed. I just love dealing with the Order, they’re so warm and personal. “Tyra, my love. Eaten any men lately?” She gave me a stern look. Tyra is a siren, but I only know that because I’m special. To the rest of the Realm she’s a buttoned-down librarian in sensible shoes. “They give me indigestion. Where are you?” “Euskara.” “Yes, I know that, but where exactly?” “Galatea. On my way to Severeges. Why? Got a job for me?” “I have an extremely important meeting for you. The Order is calling all Knights of Phoenix rank and above.” Tyra looked troubled. “This has never happened before.” “Sure it has,” I said lazily, “when that psycho chick tried to take over the island. Everyone was on red alert.” “This is different,” Tyra said. “How soon can you get here?” I frowned. “I guess I could get a ship to Dacia and then…I don’t know—it’s overland to the Bridge. A day and a half at the least. More like two, maybe three.” “Can’t you manage any faster?” I narrowed my eyes at her. Tyra might be scary as shit but I’m no slouch myself. “I travel at the same speed as everyone else,” I said levelly. “You know that.” She gave an impatient sigh. “Can’t your father—” “No,” I said firmly. “No, he can’t.” That was a direct lie. He could. Whatever the task, he could. But I didn’t let him. I made a solemn vow a long time ago that I’d never let myself turn into my father. I’m halfway to becoming my mother—which is still a faintly scary prospect—but I refuse to give in to my father’s heritage. I told Tyra I’d be there as soon as humanly possible—stressing the “humanly”— and signed off. Dammit. I was enjoying my sojourn in Galatea. Euskara is my favorite Realm, courteous and beautiful and highly sensual. I loved the grace and pomp of the high court in Paseilles, the bronzed Iberian beach bodies of Puerta Nueva, the dark menace of the Carthageans, the all-out hedonism that swarms through southern Sisilia. I didn’t want to go back to Peneggan—backward, dusty Peneggan, with its antiquated government systems and its high monster population. No doubt my parents would be there, adding to said monster population. The coast road to Severeges winds steeply down the cliffs as it nears the town. Up ahead I could see the tall, murderous mountains rearing above me, the town sliding 8 Almost Human precariously down the lower slopes toward a sea that sparkled and shone like diamonds. I sighed and started planning my trip. If I sent a runner to the docks as soon as I arrived at the hotel, by the time I got packed, ship passage could be sorted out. I’d need to send a copy of my log to the Association’s HQ in Paseilles—the hotel Kelfs could do that for me. After which I’d need to— There was a sudden jolt and the carriage wobbled alarmingly. I was thrown into the far corner—thank the gods the carriage was so soft and squishy on the inside or that would have hurt a lot more. As it was I felt bruised, and I hammered on the roof of the carriage, yelling to the driver Kelf. “What the hell was that?” “I’m sorry, my lady, the road is uneven.” “Well, find a more even bit! I don’t want to go plunging into the sea.” “Yes, my lady.” I glanced out of the window. The road was separated from the sheer drop down to the sea by a wooden fence. Great barrier. I’m sure that will stop me plunging headlong to my death. We started along again, slowly, unsurely. Things didn’t feel right. “Is something wrong?” I called up. “I think one of the horses was injured when it stumbled,” the Kelf said. “Okay, stop the coach,” I said. “Maybe there’s something I can—” Another heavy jolt had me losing my footing as I stood up, and I tumbled to the floor of the carriage. “Can you steady it? I’m trying to get out,” I said, but either the Kelf didn’t hear me or—well, he must not have heard me. Kelfs don’t disobey. Even outside of Euskara, where they’re not starved and demeaned as part of the training process, it’s part of a Kelf’s intrinsic nature to be helpful to humans. When I moved to the door I sent the carriage tilting to the right, which made me fall against the door. Which made the door open. I swung out, heart hammering, clinging to the doorframe. The carriage tilted with me, and I felt it slowly start to waver. Then air was rushing past me and we were falling, hard and fast, down through the clouds and the mist and the spray to the water below. The water—and the jagged rocks. 9 Cat Marsters Chapter One Unconsciousness is not something I’m unfamiliar with. In fact, we’ve become quite good friends over the years. People who try to come between us usually get short shrift from me. The guy who woke me in the fierce waves by forcing air into my lungs was, therefore, down for a hell of a kicking. As soon as I got my legs moving, anyway. I knew I was in a bad way when he tied me on his back and started climbing back up the cliff. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t see—couldn’t do anything at all except breathe pain. So I slipped back toward the arms of the familiar and hung out with unconsciousness again. I woke once more possibly hours later, possibly days. Now I appeared to be in a bed. Not a particularly comfortable bed, but then I have become accustomed to sprung, feathered mattresses with the highest quality sheets. Silk if possible. Yeah, I’m expensive. I cranked my eyes open, which hurt like death, and tried to focus on the room. I was at least able to move, which was a slight improvement on my earlier condition. Still, when I raised my hand, I felt the bones of my arm shift and slide against each other in broken shards. Something was pressing against my lungs. Maybe pressing through them. It was hard to tell with all the hurting. “What are you?” The voice came from the darkness. A lamp burned low by the bed, but it didn’t illuminate all corners of the room. He was out there somewhere, in the blackness where my hazy vision couldn’t penetrate. A deep, dark voice, bringing with it a resonant shudder that jarred my shattered body. “Hurt,” I replied. My voice was a whisper. “Why aren’t you dead?” Ah. Interesting question. “I’m…different.” Movement in the corner. From the shadows a figure emerged. I couldn’t see him well. I think my skull was cracked or something—vision was blurry, moving, swaying. Like being in one of those fairground haunted houses where the walls move. He came toward me and I guess I should have been frightened. He was powerful, this much I could tell. Gleaming skin, dark hair—and that was all. My swaying vision was making me nauseous, so I closed my eyes. 10