Free Incarnatio by Lynn Viehl Page B

“That is more likely, my
lady. She is a friendly child, and sympathetic to him.”
    “She’s an idiot and I’m
going to kill her,” Sam promised.
    “That is not our concern
now.” Rafael’s tone changed. “If our lord is in danger, he must be our first
priority.”
    She knew he was right,
but she didn’t have to like it. “I’ll get to the club before you do and see
what’s going on. Send all the men in.”
    “Do not try to get
between Lucan and this intruder,” Rafael warned. “If he is as powerful as
our lord, you will only get yourself hurt.”
    Sam put on her emergency
lights and used them to speed downtown. Along the way she took out the vial
of bone marrow from her pocket and thumbed off the top. Placing the open end
against the gunshot scar in the center of her palm, she turned the vial
over.
    As soon as the fluid
touched her scar, it invoked her talent, which allowed her to see through
Wilson Carcher’s eyes during the last minutes of his life. The first thing
she saw was Luce Figueroa’s face. The missing girl lay under her, her face
blank and her eyes staring up at the ceiling, her body bobbing back and
forth against damp sheets. Sam shuddered as she realized Wilson was having
sex with the girl by penetrating her with strap-on. The device didn’t repel
her as much as the grinding motions Wilson was making with it, as if he were
some kind of screwing machine trying to get as deeply inside the girl as he
could. Two blank-faced boys stood on either side of the bed, their trousers
open and their fists working up and down their erections.
    Wilson climbed off Luce,
unstrapped the artificial cock and watched as the two boys ejaculated on
Luce’s breasts and face. Their semen mixed with tears from the girl’s eyes. Why
do you weep, pretty girl? He was only thinking the words, but somehow Sam knew Luce could hear them
just as well as if they were spoken. This is what you wanted. Was it not enough? Shall I fuck you again?
    Sam didn’t know how she
knew it, but the psychic voice didn’t belong to Wilson Carcher – as if his
mind and body were clothes that the voice dressed itself in. She also sensed
Luce, trapped somewhere inside that mask of a face, was also being
controlled by the voice. The girl was still inside her head, however, and
screamed silently through the revulsion and hopelessness in her eyes.
    Sam felt nauseated, and
pulled over, switching off the emergency lights. As soon as she did the
images took over her vision, blinding her to everything else except what
seemed to be the last hours of Wilson Carcher’s life. He dressed in his
leisure suit, taking care to bind down his breasts and stuff his crotch with
another fake cock. As he did, he also watched Luce get up from the bed and
pull on a sparkling red dress. She didn’t attempt to wipe the semen from her
face or body.
    We
will go out and have dinner ,
Wilson thought to Luce. I
will show off my new pretty girl to the world, and then you may climb under
the table and use your mouth to pleasure me.
    Sam followed them out of
the hotel room, down a flight of stairs crowded with boxes and heaps of
tarps, and out of plywood-covered doors into the night. They walked north
until they reached a traffic light, and Wilson turned to see Luce staring
into the street.
    Who
is that? A pretty boy?
    Sam saw Jamys Durand
sitting in the limo with Chris, who had stopped at a red light. He was
staring back at Luce, who must have had some effect on him, for his pupils
shrank to black slivers.
    Wilson seemed almost
pleased. You
cannot have that one, pretty girl. He is one of my kind.
    Through some impossible
surge of will, Luce broke free of the voice for a moment and stepped down
from the curb, walking in front of taxi that just stopped short of running
her down.
    I am
not done with you, Wilson screamed into
Luce’s mind. Come
back to me at once.
    Luce did the exact
opposite, turning away from him