Evil Seed

"Dr. Thornton-Kramer, where are your manners?" he said with coolly feigned offense; left eyebrow ever so slightly raised--as if the effort wasn’t worth the trouble. "That’s quite an interesting connection you have with Tara," he observed, ignoring her order. "But you really shouldn’t be wasting energy trying to talk to her. You know we’re scrambling her signals--the same applies to Darya and Payne. I do look forward to meeting him . . . I’ve been sitting here scanning your brain for the secret of your powers, but Tara has cleverly installed some protective shield inside your lovely skull--one that even I can’t penetrate. Imagine!" he chatted blithely, as his steely eyes absorbed her every detail--her heavy robe concealed nothing.

"What do you want?" she spat, alarmed by the certain meaning of his look.

"Nothing complicated or unusual. Not only do you have something I want, but also I am drawn to you like a honeybee is to a nectar-laden "Tiare Tahiti" gardenia--isn’t that one of your favorites? Ah, but you see, the trouble is that by taking what I want I risk destroying you--something I loathe to do. Such is your power over me, dear lady. Few women on this planet enjoy this rare gift. So sorry the gown we laid out for you didn’t appeal to your refined tastes. The intention certainly wasn’t for you to wear it long, much less to actually sleep in it. Yet, somehow what you are wearing is infinitely more enticing," he added lasciviously, "how delightful."

"Get out!" she demanded, flushing angrily. Arming herself with the brass lamp on the bedside table she warned, "You’ll have me over my dead body!"

Finding her valiant stance quaintly amusing, Rypan laughed quietly. His disturbing black eyes glowed with pleasure as he blissfully drank in her feelings of fear--something he found to be far more satisfying than the finest bourbon. "What must you think of me, Carlin? I never elect to use force on any woman and find that I rarely need to. So please relax and put down the lamp. You won’t be needing it," he consoled. "I was merely testing the waters. My approach and timing are all wrong. I misread the cues..."

"Cues? What cues, Mr. Rypan?" she recoiled with haughty indignation.

"Forgive me, please. I misunderstood. Mea culpa! I’m very sorry!" he repented convincingly. Seeing her guarded body language ease slightly he ventured, "Please call me by my first name, Pephredo. I expect us to become rather closely acquainted." Rising from the chair as if intending to leave he observed with satisfaction, "Tara has selected an excellent collaborator." Watching Carlin’s grip on the lamp slacken, he added, "Allow me to leave you with one thought. Do not be too quick to judge our work here. As an educated person, you must value making informed decisions. I welcome the opportunity to answer all your questions. Who knows? Some of your pesky preconceived notions might change for the better. Will you please hear me out?" he asked with remarkable sincerity. Curiously, his unsettling black orbs now reflected a warm, friendly glow, and his hard thin mouth had softened into a disarming smile.

Quite the magician! How often does he use this mask? Carlin wondered as her defensive alarm blared loudly. There was no way she could make a dash for the bathroom and lock the door--he blocked her path. She tightened her hold on the lamp again. Eyeing him with a mixture of suspicion and contempt, she tried to anticipate his next move.

Recognizing that his efforts to charm her had failed, and being a man of no patience, Rypan’s demeanor changed abruptly. Carlin froze as she watched his face reveal its hideously raw, unbridled cunning and naturally cruel expression. At that moment, the meaning of his name leapt to the forefront of her mind with disturbing clarity--Pephredo, a masculine Latin name for dreaded, and Rypan, Anglo-Saxon for plunderer. Her mind raced through a thousand scraps of evidence--dreaded plunderer! Could he be the Evil One? she thought. Tara and Shait’s cosmic psychic vampire? That explains his obsession with Tara--and now me! Oh lost!

Jarred from these disturbing conclusions, she sensed herself stepping involuntarily toward him as the lamp fell from her grasp. Using his psychic powers, Rypan reeled her in. Rendered helpless, she gasped with despair when the intense energy of his demonic grip closed about her wrist. Feeling like a butterfly ensnared in a black widow’s sticky, deadly web she languished. Yes, Rypan spun his psychic cocoon about her, drinking in the fear captured in her terrified expression. Leisurely untying her robe, he let it slip off her quivering, delicate shoulders.

"Will you please hear me out, clever lady?" he mocked. Increasing the firmness of his grip, he wrapped her arms behind her lower back and pulled her into a full body embrace. The unearthly intensity of this intimate contact dazed her completely.

She flinched at the blackened soul mirrored in his eyes--cold-bloodedness, raw cruelty, monstrously inhuman. "Rama!" she cried, triggering a surge of fierce resistance. Alas, it was useless! Rypan’s supernatural cosmic powers were not to be stymied, not even by the collective strength of those mighty deities who had so quickly answered Carlin’s cry for help--Artemis and Athena from Greece; Bast, Hathor, Isis, and Neith from Egypt; the Norse goddess Freyja; Juno and Minerva of Rome; and the mighty Kali of India--none of these defenders and protectors of women could save her! Rypan mocked them all with his diabolical laughter.

Holding her fast, she did notice that his terrifying touch betrayed the merest trace of a shunned lover praying for reconciliation. With whom--Tara? Equally disturbing was the fact that his embrace ignited in her a volatile mix of primal sexual craving coupled with fathomless fear. Realizing that he had taken control of her mental faculties she panicked, "Stop, I’m not Tara! Let me go!" How was she to do battle with this terrifying thing?