Eros Descending: Book 3 of Tales of the Velvet Comet Read online

  When he was finished, he stared at his face in the mirror. It evinced no excitement, no unnatural longings, no immoral intent whatsoever. He spent a moment experimenting with each feature—mouth, jaw, eyes—and carefully set them into a mask of total disinterest.

  Finally, satisfied, he returned to the foyer.

  “Oberon will be another few minutes,” said the Steel Butterfly. “His quarters are almost half a mile away, and even if he took the tramway instead of the slidewalk he's still got to get up to the fifth level, find the translators, and then come back.” She paused.

  “How is Kozinsky?”

  “Unconscious,” said Gold, suddenly cognizant of the fact that he was staring at Titania, but unable to tear his gaze away from her. “I have a feeling that he's not going to wake up again.”

  Titania, aware that she was the focus of Gold's attention, looked directly at him, trilled something, and grinned.

  “What was that all about?” he asked uneasily.

  “Who knows?” replied the Steel Butterfly with a shrug. She turned to Titania. “It's your own fault. If you'd stop forgetting your translator, people could carry on a conversation with you.”

  Titania laughed.

  “Of course,” said the Steel Butterfly wryly, facing Gold once again, “sometimes not being understood can be a distinct advantage. For all I know she's busily insulting both of us.”

  “What's her real name?” asked Gold.

  “I couldn't pronounce it even if I knew it.”

  Titania touched her finger to her chest and uttered a brief, melodious whistle.

  “She looks so human!” said Gold. “I don't know how she can make such sounds.”

  “She's just chattering now,” said the Steel Butterfly.

  “You should hear her when she sings.”

  “How can you tell the difference?”

  “Show him, Titania.”

  The little faerie shook her head.

  “This is a hell of a time to be shy,” complained the Steel Butterfly. “Usually we can't shut you up.”

  Titania turned to Gold, a questioning expression on her face.

  “Please,” said Gold, trying to hide his eagerness.

  She smiled at him, looked directly into his eyes, and began to sing. The melody was slow and atonal, and her alien words sounded like the cold clear chimes of ice against fine crystal. As the tempo became faster, she began swaying her hips and torso in time with the music, while Gold, fascinated, stared at her intently with unblinking eyes. He felt that his hands were about to start shaking, and he quickly clasped them behind his back, which seemed to amuse Titania to no end. She placed her own hands behind her back, which caused her pubescent breasts to jut out at him, swaying suggestively as her undulations continued.

  Gold watched her for another few seconds, aware of an insistent pounding inside his head.

  "Enough!" he yelled suddenly, startled by the volume of his own voice.

  Titania stopped singing, puzzled.

  “I will not be subjected to this!”

  “To her singing?” asked the Steel Butterfly uncomprehendingly.

  “To the lascivious display that accompanied it!” snapped Gold.

  “Lascivious display?” repeated the Steel Butterfly.

  “You know very well what I mean, continued Gold.” He glared at Titania. “Did you really think your sexual posturing would affect me as it does your unsavory customers? I am a moral man, and will not be treated in this manner!”

  “Calm down, Doctor Gold,” said the Steel Butterfly in a soothing voice. “I'm sure it wasn't her intent to sexually entice you. She was simply caught in the rhythm of the music.”

  “Rhythm be damned!” he snapped. “She was flaunting her body at me, deliberately trying to tempt the one man in the Republic who is fighting to save her from a life of humiliation and an eternity of hellfire! I won't have it!” He thrust his jaw out and glared at Titania. “I'm immune to you, you little jade! Do your worst—it will make no difference!”

  Titania, terrified, scampered to a position of safety behind the Steel Butterfly.

  “You're losing control of yourself, Doctor Gold and I won't have that,” said the madam firmly.

  “I will not be led from the path of righteousness!” declared Gold.

  “Nobody's trying to lead you anywhere. You're overreacting, Doctor Gold. She was singing to you, not seducing you. And if anyone's overstepped the bounds of morality, it's you.”

  “Me?” he demanded.

  “Or am I wrong about the Jesus Pures not listening to music?”

  “God forgive me!” he muttered, stunned. “I forgot!”

  “If Thomas Gold can forget what he believes in, can't an Andrican female sway her hips when she sings?” said the Steel Butterfly.

  “I forgot!” he repeated unbelievingly. He continued to stare at Titania, his chest heaving as he gulped huge mouthfuls of air after his outburst.

  Finally he turned to the Steel Butterfly.

  “I want to go home now,” he said weakly.

  “Oberon is due back any minute.”

  “I don't care. Please take me to the airlock.”

  The Steel Butterfly shrugged. “If you wish,” she said.

  Suddenly her bracelet beeped.

  “Just a moment,” she said to Gold. “What is it, Cupid?”

  “We have a problem in the casino which, in my judgment, requires your personal attention.”

  “Why not tell Tote Board about it?” she replied.

  “Tote Board is asleep in his quarters, and I am compelled under these circumstances to contact the highest-ranking member of the Comet's staff.”

  “I'll be there as soon as I attend to Doctor Gold.”

  “The problem is not serious, but it is urgent,” said the computer.

  She sighed. “All right. I'll be there immediately.”

  She turned to Gold. “It's probably nothing more than a counter at the blackjack table, but I'm afraid I'll have to leave you.”

  “I don't know if I can find my way back to the cargo airlock,” said Gold.

  “That's all right. Titania can take you.”

  The little faerie trilled something and continued to hide behind the madam.

  “It's all right, Titania,” said the Steel Butterfly. “He won't yell at you again.”

  Titania peeked around the Steel Butterfly and made a delicate chirping sound.

  “I won't harm you, child,” said Gold.

  She made a large semicircle around him and walked to the elevator, gesturing for him to follow her. She continued to watch him warily as they descended to the storage level, then turned to her left and began walking. He fell into step behind her, hypnotized by the motion of her buttocks and wishing the distance to the airlock were even longer. Finally he forced himself to stare at the floor, and tried to bring forth a mental picture of Corinne—but his mind's paintbrush, after an initial approximation of her face, kept giving her pointed ears and silver skin and small, youthful breasts.

  A few minutes later Titania stopped at the airlock, but Gold, his gaze still glued to the floor, continued walking. She ran after him, trilling rapidly, and grabbed his hand.

  He felt as if an electric current had shot all the way up his arm, and he jumped back, wild-eyed and trembling. This in turn startled the faerie, who also leaped back. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then she trilled again, visibly frightened, and pointed to the airlock.

  He stared at it uncomprehendingly, and then the haze slowly lifted from his mind.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  She forced a nervous smile and stepped back as he opened the door and walked into the airlock.

  A few minutes later the private shuttle took off for Deluros VIII, with Gold as its sole passenger. He sat in the luxury section, his feet propped up on a cushioned footrest, his back muscles massaged by the almost imperceptible vibration of the seat. He stared dully at a viewscreen, his hand still tingling fro
m the faerie's touch, desperately trying to recapture the instant in the theater of his mind. Twice he caught himself inadvertently humming her melodic song.

  He should, he knew, be preparing himself to face the righteous wrath of an outraged God, but instead he spent the entire trip wondering with an exquisitely aching eagerness if he would ever see Titania again, or perhaps even touch her once more.

  Chapter 9

  “Doctor Gold?”

  Gold stared at the holographic image that his computer had projected in front of him.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “Richard Constantine. I've been trying to contact you for hours.”

  “I'm a busy man.”

  “So am I,” said Constantine. “And I don't especially like to be kept waiting.”

  “Your likes and dislikes are of very little concern to me, Mr. Constantine,” replied Gold.

  “And what of Vladimir Kozinsky's fate? Is that of any concern to you?”

  “I left the Comet almost eight hours ago,” said Gold. “I'd be very much surprised if he's still alive.”

  “He died five hours ago,” said Constantine.

  “I want it known that he did not represent the Church of the Purity of Jesus Christ, and that we totally disown his actions.”

  “You don't sound terribly broken up about it,” noted Constantine sardonically.

  “He tried to destroy a human life—in fact, quite a number of them. This was in direct opposition to everything we believe in, and while we pray for his soul we condemn his actions.” He reached for his computer controls. “And now, if you've nothing further to say...”

  “I'm not through yet,” said Constantine.

  Gold leaned back and stared at his image curiously. “Go on,” he said.

  “What would you like done with the body?”

  “You speak about it as if I had some proprietary interest in it,” said Gold. “May I suggest that you contact his family on Declan IV?”

  “I've tried. He seems to have no living relatives.”

  “Then I recommend that you dispose of it in the most efficient way possible.”

  “Doctor Gold,” said Constantine coldly, “personally, I don't give a damn what happens to his body. But I thought I owed you the courtesy of seeing if there is any method that is preferred by your church—or if there is any particular means of disposal that would cause distress to a Jesus Pure.”

  “I apologize,” said Gold. “We have no particular strictures—burial and cremation are both acceptable.”

  “Then, with your permission, I'll give the order to cremate his remains,” said Constantine. “Burial plots are running at a premium, and I imagine his funds will be tied up by the courts for some time.”

  “That will be fine,” said Gold dryly. “I certainly wouldn't want to put a financial strain on the Vainmill Syndicate.” He paused. “Have we anything further to discuss?”

  “Just one thing.”

  “And what is that?”

  “You are in possession of something that doesn't belong to you,” said Constantine. “Since you seem disinclined to use it, I was wondering if you had any intention of returning it?”

  “I don't know what you're talking about,” said Gold coldly.

  Constantine stared at him for a moment, then shrugged.

  “Thank you for your time, Doctor Gold,” he paid at last. “I'm sure we will meet in person one these days.”

  “I doubt it,” replied Gold, breaking the connection.

  He sat motionless for a few minutes, then got to his feet, commanded the door to open, and walked out into the living room, where Simon was seated on a high-backed chair, reading.

  “I just heard from Richard Constantine,” he announced.

  “Oh?” said Simon, placing his book down on a table.

  Gold nodded. “Kozinsky's dead.”

  “Well, that's hardly a surprise,” replied his son.

  “Did he say anything else?”

  “Not really,” said Gold. “Oh, he asked me to return the video footage of the faeries’ training session, but that was all.”

  “Oh,” grunted Simon. He reached for his book.

  “Doesn't that seem curious to you?” asked Gold.

  “Curious?” repeated Simon. “In what way?”

  “Why would he have taken the time to tell me Kozinsky was dead? He could easily have delegated the responsibility. And the only other thing he did was make a request that he knew I'd turn down. Why?”

  “You're an important man,” said Simon. “And, more to the point, you're an important thorn in his side. Maybe he felt it was time to speak to you face to face.”

  “I don't think so,” said Gold. “There has to be another reason.”

  “For instance?”

  Gold shrugged. “I don't know. He didn't seem inclined to continue the conversation, so obviously he learned what he wanted to know. But for the life of me, I can't imagine what it was.”

  “Maybe he wanted to make sure that you hadn't told any other Jesus Pures about Kozinsky,” suggested Simon. “I imagine Vainmill is scared to death that his little exploit will become public and that someone else will pick up the gauntlet, so to speak.”

  Gold shook his head. “He never mentioned it. And even if I had told anyone, it's hardly the kind of information I'd volunteer to him.” He lowered his head in thought. “He never mentioned the incident with Titania, either. I wonder what he could have wanted.”

  “Titania?” repeated Simon. “You mean the Andrican female?”

  “Yes.”

  “What incident?”

  Gold looked uncomfortable. “A little misunderstanding aboard the Comet.”

  “You never mentioned it.”

  “It wasn't important.”

  “What happened?” persisted Simon.

  “I'm afraid that I scared the living daylights out of her,” admitted Gold.

  Simon frowned. “Why?”

  “I misinterpreted her actions, and she then misinterpreted mine. As I say, it was just a misunderstanding.”

  “What did you do to frighten her?”

  “I thought she was flaunting her body for my benefit, so I yelled at her,” said Gold uncomfortably.

  “Are you sure you misinterpreted her actions?” said Simon. “After all, she is a prostitute. Perhaps the madam told her to do that in the hope of weakening your resolve.”

  “Weakening my resolve?” exploded Gold. “Do you think I had to resolve not to be tempted by her?

  “I meant that such an act might weaken your resolve about removing her from the Comet,” said Simon carefully.

  “I'm more determined now than ever,” said Gold adamantly. “She can't begin to know the effect she has on human men.”

  “You might be overreacting. When all is said and done, she's an alien.”

  “'A very erotic alien,” responded Gold.

  “No human could find her sexually attractive.”

  “Why not? In point of fact, she's quite attractive.”

  “I trust you're not speaking from personal experience.”

  “Remember whom you're speaking to!” snapped Gold.

  Simon stared at his father. “What exactly did she do?” he asked at last.

  “Nothing,” said Gold. “I told you—it was a misunderstanding. The subject is closed.”

  Simon continued staring at him for another moment, then shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

  “That's what I say,” replied Gold, aware that he should let the subject drop, but unwilling to let his son have the last word. He paused. “Anyway, Constantine never mentioned it.”

  “I'm sure that the customers scare the prostitutes all the time,” suggested Simon. “After all, the people who frequent such places aren't exactly normal. Probably they go there supplied with whips and chains and the like.”

  A picture of Titania, arms and legs bound, flashed across Gold's mind. He couldn't decide whether he was horrified or fascinated by it.


  “That's enough,” he muttered at last, shaking his head in a physical attempt to eradicate the image. “Let's get back to the important question: why did he contact me personally?”

  “I've already given you the most likely answer,” said Simon.

  Gold shook his head. “That's not good enough. There's got to be something more. He mentioned that he'd been trying to get through for a while, but that I hadn't answered his page. Why would a man who's in charge of such an enormous operation take two or three hours out of his day trying to tell me that Kozinsky was dead? The only unexpected news he could have given me would have been that Kozinsky was still alive.”

  “You're making a mystery out of a common courtesy,” said Simon with certainty.

  “Perhaps,” said Gold. He tensed suddenly. “How long have you been here, Simon?”

  “About half an hour.”

  “Where were you before that?”

  “At my apartment. Why?”

  “That's where Constantine contacted you before, isn't it? When he told you that Kozinsky was in the Comet's hospital?”

  “Yes.”

  “He could have spoken to you again, instead of trying to get through to me. Why didn't he?”

  Simon shrugged. “I'm sure I don't know.”

  Gold smiled triumphantly. “Suddenly I'm sure I do.”

  “Oh?”

  “He didn't want to relay any information to me,” said Gold. “We both knew Kozinsky couldn't last out the day. He just wanted to make sure I was at home.”

  “Why?”

  “I don't know—but it's got to have something to do with the Comet. And, more to the point, it has to have something to do with Constantine himself.” He paused. “Put it all together and what do you get? That Constantine is going up to the Comet, and he wanted to make sure I wouldn't be there!”

  'What difference could it possibly make to him?”

  “I don't know—but it's important to him that I remain on Deluros, or he wouldn't have checked up on my whereabouts.”

  “Well, he's got his wish.”

  “Not for long,” said Gold. “I want you to book me passage up to the Comet while I change into some fresh clothes.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “I don't know yet,” replied Gold. “But if he doesn't want me up there, then that's exactly where I belong. If he's afraid I can disrupt whatever it is that he's doing, then the very least I can do is try to make his fears come true.”