on the gravel road. She felt his eyes on her as she made it to the metal walk, took the side stairs and walked beneath the archway toward the church’s main entry. Melia glanced over her shoulder. The shuttle’s engine fired up, and it circled before whizzing back into the traffic higher up.
When she was sure he was gone, she backtracked to the service entry and picked the keycode security. She let herself in. Darkness embraced her. She liked it best that way. Most humans couldn’t see in such a place, but she could well enough to move around. The scent of incense clung to the air, old and mystical. A barrier of curtains stood between her and the worship area. Peeking through them, she spied on a few black-clad men placing candles on the stage at the head of the pews. It would be a while before camera crews began setting up for the speeches.
“Perfect.” She slinked along the curtains’ edge to a service ladder and made her ascent to a small platform. It led to a series of access halls overlooking the worship area, and she guessed a choir might use them.
Melia found her spot in a high corner overlooking the backstage area. She imagined the Shiemir in his finest attire, primped and ready to meet his end. “Holy Mother, this is too easy,” she whispered.
Chapter Sixteen
Speaking for the Church
Enrue sighed at his reflection while his attendant adjusted the Shiemir’s sash and inspected his hair. He hated speaking at events such as this. Fundraisers, charities, were all necessary means to an end, and required to keep up his image. The Habiri Church’s dressing room was clean and orderly, if not sparse. He reminded himself he only had to take up fifteen minutes on stage and then he could be done. “I need a drink,” he said.
His attendant froze. “What do you desire, my Shiemir?” His lean features curdled as he waited for an answer. Ever obedient, the man would find whatever Enrue asked for, whether it was in the best interest of Taraf or not. Such loyalty both pleased and disgusted the Shiemir.
“Fury, but it can wait until I’m back in my room, Robert.” He glanced around the tight space. “Sure is dark here.”
“The Habiri believe it soothes the soul.” Robert held the door open for him.
He exited, thinking the darkness was not acceptable or soothing at all. The wide hall leading to the stage was devoid of decoration. The crowd had gathered already, and their garbled voices echoed all around Enrue. He rehearsed his speech in his mind. His attendant hung back at the stage entry. Just past the arch, three of Jorin’s guards stood vigilant and armed in case anything went wrong.
He took the first step. Black curtains at his side moved in the air from the vents, drawing his attention. A familiar scent gave him pause. He halted midway up the stairs. She’s here. With that thought, a cold sliver of metal touched his throat. A body pressed him from behind and tugged him sideways toward the curtains.
“Melia?” he asked, startled.
Her breasts, small and round, crushed into his back. Steady breathing sounded in his ear. She’d caught him. He knew he was dead. Jorin was right about her.
“Goodbye Shiemir,” she murmured, her lips brushing his ear. “It’s been a pleasure.”
He reached up and grasped her wrist. “Say my name.”
The blade pierced his skin. Warmth dribbled down his neck.
“What?” she asked, her voice quavering.
“If I must die, I want to hear my name from your lips one last time.” He took a deep breath, drinking in her perfume and the softer, more pleasing flavor of her skin. Enrue closed his eyes and ran his thumb along her wrist, wishing he’d kept her in the meeting room yesterday and fulfilled his fantasy. “Say it.”
Her words caught in her throat. The blade gouged deeper, cutting into him. He welcomed death, welcomed an end to his life and as he waited, hoping she’d say the one word he desired, he realized there was nothing of consequence he’d be
When she was sure he was gone, she backtracked to the service entry and picked the keycode security. She let herself in. Darkness embraced her. She liked it best that way. Most humans couldn’t see in such a place, but she could well enough to move around. The scent of incense clung to the air, old and mystical. A barrier of curtains stood between her and the worship area. Peeking through them, she spied on a few black-clad men placing candles on the stage at the head of the pews. It would be a while before camera crews began setting up for the speeches.
“Perfect.” She slinked along the curtains’ edge to a service ladder and made her ascent to a small platform. It led to a series of access halls overlooking the worship area, and she guessed a choir might use them.
Melia found her spot in a high corner overlooking the backstage area. She imagined the Shiemir in his finest attire, primped and ready to meet his end. “Holy Mother, this is too easy,” she whispered.
Chapter Sixteen
Speaking for the Church
Enrue sighed at his reflection while his attendant adjusted the Shiemir’s sash and inspected his hair. He hated speaking at events such as this. Fundraisers, charities, were all necessary means to an end, and required to keep up his image. The Habiri Church’s dressing room was clean and orderly, if not sparse. He reminded himself he only had to take up fifteen minutes on stage and then he could be done. “I need a drink,” he said.
His attendant froze. “What do you desire, my Shiemir?” His lean features curdled as he waited for an answer. Ever obedient, the man would find whatever Enrue asked for, whether it was in the best interest of Taraf or not. Such loyalty both pleased and disgusted the Shiemir.
“Fury, but it can wait until I’m back in my room, Robert.” He glanced around the tight space. “Sure is dark here.”
“The Habiri believe it soothes the soul.” Robert held the door open for him.
He exited, thinking the darkness was not acceptable or soothing at all. The wide hall leading to the stage was devoid of decoration. The crowd had gathered already, and their garbled voices echoed all around Enrue. He rehearsed his speech in his mind. His attendant hung back at the stage entry. Just past the arch, three of Jorin’s guards stood vigilant and armed in case anything went wrong.
He took the first step. Black curtains at his side moved in the air from the vents, drawing his attention. A familiar scent gave him pause. He halted midway up the stairs. She’s here. With that thought, a cold sliver of metal touched his throat. A body pressed him from behind and tugged him sideways toward the curtains.
“Melia?” he asked, startled.
Her breasts, small and round, crushed into his back. Steady breathing sounded in his ear. She’d caught him. He knew he was dead. Jorin was right about her.
“Goodbye Shiemir,” she murmured, her lips brushing his ear. “It’s been a pleasure.”
He reached up and grasped her wrist. “Say my name.”
The blade pierced his skin. Warmth dribbled down his neck.
“What?” she asked, her voice quavering.
“If I must die, I want to hear my name from your lips one last time.” He took a deep breath, drinking in her perfume and the softer, more pleasing flavor of her skin. Enrue closed his eyes and ran his thumb along her wrist, wishing he’d kept her in the meeting room yesterday and fulfilled his fantasy. “Say it.”
Her words caught in her throat. The blade gouged deeper, cutting into him. He welcomed death, welcomed an end to his life and as he waited, hoping she’d say the one word he desired, he realized there was nothing of consequence he’d be
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