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Rated: 13+ · Book · Sci-fi · #2309248
Continuing the story
Well, here is a little taste of part two of the Never Verse story arc. This picks up directly at the end of part one, no edit done yet, raw from my mind.


Marcel shuddered feeling the last vestiges of the soul pass into the gate held by his Ellin master. Where it had been a bond of mutual benefit with Estelle the one with this alien mind was that of servitude. The creature snared at the man’s desiccated corpse effortlessly held in its hand before he tossed it aside like so much trash. ‘Find its bond mate,’ it said hissing laughter, the effect was not dissimilar to sandpaper rubbed on glass. Marcel knew better than to argue with the creature, it had tossed him against a wall breaking his arm and tearing his restored eye out before it healed him just to make a point not a day before. ‘Pray I find it worthwhile healing you human for should I not you will wish for a thousand days in the chamber of testing than what I inflict upon you.’ Marcel glanced quickly at Millicent as he set off following the passage out of the storm drains. The woman was utterly petrified of the Ellin. Still Marcel could only wonder at her inclusion in the group, though he had his suspicions. The woman’s mind was not that strong, not that Marcel’s was either he had other uses that kept him alive. The problem as he saw it was her usefulness, he could only conclude it had to do with her involvement in the failed harvesting of that Jessica girl, but when he had asked she had simply ignored him.

Here deep in the maze of passages and drains Marcel was in his natural element. The one gift other than the curse that was walking worlds he had was the gift of sight. His eyes could discern the smallest movement in the near total dark. He could almost smell where the boy had gone. It brought a smile of satisfaction to his face. The hunt aroused him, filled him with completeness like no other earthly pleasure could. Remy seemed disinterested in his walled off section of mind, Marcel knew all too well his brothers interests lay elsewhere. A feral grin gracing his face Marcel followed the faint traces his prey had left in its flight from them. He could smell the fear as a pungent tang drifting up the tunnel, the boy was petrified and confused. With a growl Marcel pushed down the arousal the scent gave him, all he would have is the hunt his master would have the kill. The thought of it gave him a longing for his days in Britsamia. The prey had been abundant for him and his brother in that colossal city to indulge in their passion. The thought stirred his brother in his prison. Soon Remy, we will return as I promised. Then we will hunt as you would wish. The feeling of longing from his brother near overwhelmed his concentration. Settle brother this is not the time, we have work to do.

With an evil chuckle Marcel turned to the left taking the narrower of the two choices. The prey had switched back in an attempt to hide. The other must be a dead end. He could smell the boy was close now. His gate must be depleted for him to still be here. The thought brought a surge of arousal, his prey was trapped. Running his hands along the walls he made the image of the hunt concluding clear in his head and felt the Ellin hiss its laughter in return. It was close behind tracking his thoughts. Even Remy was stirring a little the thrill of the final moments of a hunt even if it were not to his tastes rousing him from his slumber. Feeling the walls widen Marcel crouched low a hint of light revealing a sharp turn in the passage. ‘He is there. His fear is so strong.’ He whispered to himself sniffing the air and growling in pleasure at the scent. It was delicious. The shadow of movement caused him to break into a run the boy had sensed him. ‘You cannot escape me boy,’ he said laughing in delight as he sprinted to the sharp turn. Skidding to a halt he grinned at the young man backing up toward the edge of a fatal drop. The tunnel had ended with a sharp fall to a river below, little more than an open sewer really in this damp rain ridden world. The sounds of the metropolis filtered down from the streets above as sleek aircraft and airships moved between the towering monoliths tearing at the rain hazed sky. ‘Nowhere to go boy,’ Marcel chuckled as he edged forward. The mental slap pushed him a good dozen feet back down the tunnel to slam against the concrete wall. The boy was strong Marcel would grant him that, but not strong enough to survive. ‘You will regret that,’ he growled picking himself up from the damp tunnel floor. The boy only curled his lip up at him and slapped him again. This time Marcel was ready throwing up a weak shield against the psychic blow. He had no real talent in the craft but he had just enough, if he had not he would have died along with his brother in that warehouse weeks ago. The boys blow only caused him to stagger a little brining a smile to Marcel’s face. ‘Time to die boy,’ he cackled as he edged closer. With a growl the boy tore his gate from around his neck, ran a finger around it and vanished.

Marcel dropped to his knees as the boy disappeared, a look of anguish on his face. He had only moments to wallow in his failure before the pain hit him. The Ellin ground his mind with the force of its will. Imbecile you will suffer for this. But now we follow. He felt the creatures hand curl around his hair and haul him to his feet. ‘Fail me like this again and you will die human that is a certainty.’ The Ellin let go of his hair and beckoned to Millicent, the woman flinched at the creatures gaze. Marcel caught a glance from her as she touched their master’s arm. The woman’s eyes were pools of fear and disgust the realization it had used her striking him as they vanished in a flash of light.
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