Chapter #17The King is Dead, Long Live the King by: imaj   “Ain’t a good look on anybody,” you counter, still channeling his personality. “Seein’ it the mirror’s gotta be a damn sight better than seein’ it in front of you though. Not much though.”
Rick snorts a laugh. “At least you that much right. But I gotta say I’m disappointed with the rest of it, Squirt. Sloppy. Very sloppy. Leaving the bodies to be found so quickly. And you know you only killed the screens in the guardhouse. The cameras were still recording. If I go through that door, am I gonna find Nzinghe and his mistress dead on the floor?”
“You’ll find Nzinghe,” you admit. You’ve been holding Catilindria since this morning. Like any temporary connection, it’s weaker than a true association with ousiarch would be. That hasn’t stopped you casting a weak - very weak in fact given its size - sense of befuddlement across the palace. Now you let that link go and the Catilindrian influence dissipates, like a gossamer spider web blown away in the wind.
Rick senses it too, and you watch his face as he puzzles it over: What was the odd sense of fuzzy-headedness feeling? Where did it come from? How did it disappear so suddenly?
While he thinks, you reach for Arbol and summon forth its burning fire. In your hands, it is little more than a smouldering ember. It is still enough to dissolve your coat and pants into ash as you shrug them off. Your socks and shoes turn to dust too, leaving your feet naked. Only the nightgown you put on underneath your clothes earlier is left. It looks ridiculous stretched and ripped over your copy of Rick’s body.
Those clues are enough for him to start fitting it together though. Or perhaps Eldibria gave him a hint. “What happened in China,” he asks. “You’re back the way you were before.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you smirk.
“You look ridiculous,” he adds, but you can see the change in his demeanour, hear the alien hint of nervousness in his voice. The last pieces have slid into place for him.
“What you’re thinking is right Rick,” you explain, dropping all pretense of character. “I meant to murder the guards in my way. I meant to get your face caught on camera. Just like I meant to leave your fingerprints all over the knife stuck in Nzinghe. Oh, and I used Catilindria to keep you from noticing all this until just right now.”
You’ve maybe pushed him too far, for his face sets into a grim mask of determination. He pulls his knife - the original version of the one one that stabbed into Nzinghe - and holds it ready.
“You’re right,” you add in French, your voice rising in pitch as you speak. “I do look ridiculous. Let’s fix that.” Your skin darkens, shifting to a dark, dark brown. Your hips and bust swell and your waist shrinks as you adopt the imago of Nzinghe’s mistress. Sylvie Keita, you realise that’s her name as her memories come flooding in. Then you scream.
A group of soldiers spill out of a door between you and Rick. You count half a dozen in all and your new memories furnish you with their names. Most are just bodyguards Sylvie recognises from round the palace, but the one at the back is different. He’s older, with a closely shaved bristle of graying hair. A row of ribbons on his shirt denotes his high rank.
“General Abara,” you shout at the chief of the Cabindan army. One of Sylvie’s memories flashes in your mind: The general, on his back naked between your thighs. Sylvie, it seems, has been hedging her bets in the never ending chaos of Cabindan politics. That’s something you can use. Eldibria leaps at your command like you never abandoned it and you send a stream in his direction “That man killed Jabari!”
The general gazes longingly at you, then snaps orders at the guards. They turn with practiced efficiency and train their guns on Rick.
“You win this round Squirt,” says Rick in English. You spot the soldiers’ guns drooping as Rick hits them with his power. Then he turns and flees. A few of the guards manage to summon the energy to fire, but their shots are wildly inaccurate. The rounds pepper the walls harmlessly as Rick piles through a doorway and out of sight.
“Don’t just stand there,” says General Abara testily. “Go after him.”
The other five soldiers manage to lumber awkwardly in the direction that Rick went, still suffering from the effects of his prodigy. He’ll escape, you figure, but you still have enough time to finish what you started here before he comes looking for you again. So you saunter over to the general, swaying your newly ample hips. If that isn’t enough, you liberally douse him in Eldibria again, inflaming his lust. As you lean in and press your breasts against him, you can make out the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
“The airport,” you ask in a breathy voice, far more seductive than the real Sylvie would have managed.
If the general wonders how you know about what’s happening at the airport, he doesn’t ask about it. Instead you feel his engorged cock press against your side. “Secured,” he manages to croak.
“Cabinda is yours,” you whisper in his ear. “If you can just deal with Colonel Kasongo and what’s left of his rebels at the abandoned lab complex south of the city.” You kiss him full on the lips, his mind too addled to consider how you know all this. “Ours.”
*****
With the studio lights on, the press centre is much brighter than when you passed through it two days ago. General Abara, in a suit now rather than uniform, stands at the lectern, his hand gripping the edges firmly. You grip onto his arm firmly too, smiling beatifically at the assembled foreign press and looking pretty for the cameras. Belgian and French journalists make up the largest contingent, but there’s a smattering of journalists from the English speaking world too. Idly, you wonder which ones amongst them are Fane plants.
“With the capture of Joseph Kasongo, we can finally close a violent chapter in the history of our great country and move forward,” explains Abara, smiling reassuringly for the cameras. To the right, an interpreter repeats his words in English. “I only feel great sorrow that my good friend Jabari Nzinghe is not here to deliver this news.”
Like he wouldn’t have killed him if you hadn’t gotten there first, you think without betraying the thought on your face. All the cameras see is a wobble in your lips and the carefully crafted beginning of tears in your eyes.
“We have examined security footage very carefully and identified the heartless assassin who took our dear leader from us,” continues Abara. Even without looking you know that large screen behind you now displays a blurry close up of Rick’s face. “This man is Rick Bredon, an American national. I am pleased to announce that our European and American friends have issued arrest warrants for this murderer.”
Fane’s influence, you are sure. They want Rick out of the way just as much as you do. You simply made sure they had the evidence they needed.
“I am sure he will be arrested soon and brought to justice, “ concludes Abara.
The new president of Cabinda starts taking questions. You barely pay them any heed though. Already, you are thinking of your next steps. Fane will want to establish more control over their new puppet leader. ‘Sylvie’ is the obvious route to that and you have no desire to hang around while Fane plots to put one of their tattooed men in your place. So you’ll be out of the palace by the end of the day. With Rick having to lay low for a while, you can start making serious plans for the future.
Your future and the Stellae’s.
To stop reminiscing, attend to Fi's reports in "A Short Hop" 
  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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