She chuckled and the monster on the throne smiled. His tongue wagged inside of his mouth and words formed. 'I go now to Source. All pieces are in place. Soon, this body is no more. Soon I am real boy again!'
Ayaan's hands were grabbing at the air before she realized what she was doing. She was pulling energy toward herself, gathering power for a massive death bolt that would destroy the two of them and probably turn the throne into dust as well. She could do it, there was absolutely nothing stopping her.
It had not been her own decision, however, to gather that energy. Maybe, she told herself, her subconscious was so disgusted by the sight of the Tsarevich that she just wanted to destroy him, to put him out of everyone's misery.
Or maybe Semyon Iurevich had put that thought in her head.
Does it matter?she heard, the words blasting through her cranium like a chill wind off a freight train's passage.This was the deal. From the beginning, this is the way we played the course. You put on a wonderful show, lass. You made so nice even I started to believe it. I honestly started to believe that you had come around to his side.
She didn't turn around and look at the brain in its jar. Instead she looked at Semyon Iurevich. His eyes tracked hers perfectly.
Destroy him. Do it now.It could have been either of them saying it.
'No,' she said, out loud, and folded her hands in her lap.
Monster Planet
Chapter Two
Everyone was staring at her. She found that mildly unnerving.
'Why are you to saying 'no'?' the Tsarevich asked. His voice sounded like rotten peaches being poured out of a rusty can. Cicatrix had a look on her face of deep concern. Did she understand? Did she realize this had all been a set-up?
The voice of the disembodied brain raged and railed inside Ayaan's head, but she refused to move.How dare you, I've given you a command! You will do as I say, and you'll do it now, lass, because there is one fucking lot more riding on this than you think. I'
You'll what?she asked, silently. No reply was forthcoming. The voice had disappeared with as little warning as it came. She turned and stared at the brain. It didn't move at all, of course. Its energy was unchanged. Why had it stopped in mid-sentence?
Before she could even begin to wonder she was knocked off her seat. Semyon Iurevich had come at her with a spike in his hand, growling for death. She rolled across the floor and came up in a stiff-legged crouch only to realize that he wasn't trying to kill her after all. He'd been aiming for the Tsarevich.
His plan had failed'his programmed assassin had refused to kill on cue. So he had gone with a contingency plan. He would throw away his own life to murder the Tsarevich. Unfortunately there was one problem with his thinking. Like all liches, like all undead things, his motor skills were quite poor.
The spike in his hand was little more than a sharpened metal rod. One of the crudest weapons imaginable. He probably had meant to push it through the Tsarevich's eye but his hand went wide and he caught the point in the skin of Cicatrix's neck. Bright red blood erupted from the wound and splattered Semyon Iurevich's bath robe, pooled in the Tsarevich's twisted lap. The hypnotist lich tried to pull his spike free for a second attack but the green phantom swooped into the middle of the room and held out one hand and the would-be assassin collapsed in a volitionless heap.
The lights flared up'Erasmus had switched them on. MAD-O-RAMA's dark corners were speared by floodlights that showed every speck of dust and curl of old peeling black paint.