Dead of Eve (Trilogy of Eve 1)

Through the haze of pain, I sought the closest aphid in the psychic cosmos. There, a jolt. I followed the source. The corridor. Near the stairway to the lab. The link iced the heat racing through my veins. Come.

Hands traveled up my thighs. An influx of power spread through my limbs, calming me. Come.

A green shape filled the doorway. Translucent skin rippled over quivering forearms. Its spear extended in response to the blood dripping down my leg.

Attack, I pushed and layered it with images of the Imago.

The Imago jerked his mouth from my thigh, face bloodied, and reached for the dart gun slung on his back.

I dipped into my power. Attack. My heart rate crashed as I drove the command over and over.

Blurred snapshots of insectile arms wheeled around me. The dart gun clattered across the room. A warm gush poured from my nose. My chin fell upon my chest and I clamped my mouth shut to hold back bile.

The Imago dropped at my feet, held down by the crouching aphid. He babbled incoherent sounds, staring at my eyes, and I wondered what he saw there, if they were filled with solid black.

“I’ll call it off if you release me.”

Eyes round and glassy, he nodded.

I sucked in air and sent a prayer to hell for enough juice. Back.

The bulbous body rose to its full height but didn’t back away.

The Imago jumped to his feet and freed the key ring from his belt. His clammy hands gripped mine as the locks sprang open.

Beside me, Michio grunted, eyes on the mouthparts arching from the depths of the aphid’s gullet.

Stay. A weak command, wrapped in numbness. The link was disintegrating. “Hurry. I’m losing it.”

He dropped to his knees and released my feet. My languid body crumpled into his arms. A metal click told me he’d returned the keys to his belt, then he spun, clutching my back to his chest, hiding his trembling frame behind the cover of mine.

Idiot. I slumped against him and collected spurts of energy from multiple points of contact. His vitality energized my weakened limbs, the very weapons I would use against him. A deep breath. Attack.

I ducked. The first claw swiped the crown of my head and knocked the Imago to the ground. The second landed in my chest. I stumbled back, tripped over the Imago’s legs and fell upon him.

Hold. I sent images of his arms, locked down by claws. If I killed the Imago, I’d lose my Yang source and the aphid would turn on me, a risk I hadn’t considered when I called it down there. If I killed the aphid, I’d lose my weapon against the Imago. To buy time, I chanted, Hold, aloud or in my head, I wasn’t sure.

Pincers hooked around the Imago’s arms, pinning him to the floor just as I envisioned. But my effort to maintain the choreography caused an exodus of energy.

I slid my hands over the Imago’s belt, his chest, his arms. Finally, I bumped his dagger, clutched it. Dizziness and gelidity crept through me. Consciousness began to slip. I cut away his shirt and rolled onto his bare chest.

Warmth and light infused my senses. I fought the revulsion from the slime of his skin and soaked up his Yang. Then I strengthened my hold on the guard.

Its wavering pincers stilled, clamped harder on the Imago’s arms. Its head bobbed inches from mine. Frown lines, eyelashes, even a pierced ear reminded me this creature was once human.

I gathered my strength and scooted down his legs, cutting away his pants as I moved. His flaccid cock flopped on his hip. I gripped it and raised the knife.

The zagged scar on his forehead reddened. He writhed under the guard’s hold. Tears slicked his lashes.

The fucker was responsible for billions of deaths. He stole Annie and Aaron from me. Corpses rotted feet away, a reminder that his delivery of the virus was only the beginning of his bloodshed.

I brought down the edge. An arch of crimson spurted from his groin and striped his chest. His pathetic shrills stung my ears as he convulsed under me. I wanted to stuff his dick in his mouth, but my vision swam with black dots and my body shook. I tossed the severed flesh.

With numb fingers, I unhooked the key ring from his belt and pushed to my feet. My legs gave out.

Should I kill them first? What if the key didn’t work? Would I need to use the Imago as a hostage?

I scraped the Jambiya, the keys and my knees over the dirt floor and crawled to Michio.

The aphid yanked on the link, testing its snapping point.

Hold, goddammit. With each dragged limb, my vision dissipated in strobe-flashes. Minutes felt like hours. The beat in my ears pounded out the Imago’s tongueless cries. Just had to hold the aphid, move toward the wall. Deep breaths.