THE CRAVING

Chapter Seven

Reunion

Roxton wasn't entirely sure what to think when he saw both Finzure and Annay approach. Part of him
wondered if they too had been searching the jungle for Marguerite. A wry part of his mind decided they
were engaging in a mid afternoon hunt. Often they brought Calista a warm half-living creature back to
the palace after a run, rather than their esteemed mistress going out and stalking her own lunch. It was
one of the little privileges, she once told a silently disdain spewing Roxton, that made their slaves feel of
value.

When Roxton asked the two underlings, as they stood uneasily before him, what they were about, they
glanced at one another. Finzure told him they should, all three, go back to the palace. They had evaded
the question and for good reason. Neither could lie, especially to one they served, so they simply chose
not to answer.

Instantly, Roxton was on alert. Deception was afoot. "Where is she?" he growled, grasping Finzure by
his fur clad chest, "What has been done with her?"

"We were only following orders!" Annay called from behind, frightened. "Please Master, you must come
with us and forget her."

Roxton blazed and he pushed Finzure from him, turning to the female. "Forget her?" he questioned in a
nearly inhuman bellow, "Did Calista order you to destroy her?" At the woman's silence he approached,
his eyes alight with a red fury. "Did you kill her?" he speculated further with a strangled groan, although
he knew better. Roxton and Marguerite were so closely connected these days he would know, intuitively,
if she was dead. Still, his breathing was harsh and filled with menace and demand, "Where is she?"

"Near the creek." Annay whispered, casting eyes downward, waiting for a physical blow. "She's not
been harmed ... yet." Annay told Roxton what they had done, glancing at Finzure who appeared both
dismayed and relieved that the truth was revealed. Yet, when Roxton made a move to start his own
search Annay grasped his arm, "No. You mustn't! The mistress won't allow it. We have our orders."

"Damn your orders." Roxton shoved her away, watching as Annay fell to the ground. "Stop me again
and I'll flay you!" he threatened. Then, with preternatural senses, Roxton felt Finzure converge from
behind. He held a sharp dagger. Roxton caught its sharp glint with the corner of his eye. He turned
quickly, punching out at the big man, knocking the weapon from his hand. Roxton knew his servant didn't
intend to kill but Calista had obviously told the underlings if violence was necessary she would
understand and accept injury to her prize. Still, infuriated, Roxton launched himself at the big man and
grasped his throat, shaking him vigorously, "You bastard! I swear, if Marguerite's been harmed ..."

Pain suddenly exploded through Roxton's lower leg. Annay had picked up the dagger and, crawling over
to he and Finzure, she stabbed Roxton several inches above the right ankle. Annay might have tried
more but Roxton's left hand swung outward, slamming her hard in the face, proficiently knocking the
woman out.

With no time to lose, Roxton did the same with Finzure - watching the big man fall flat on his back - then,
picking up the dagger and sliding it into his belt, he stood painfully to his feet. They wouldn't remain
unconscious long but, hopefully, long enough to give him a good head start.

Roxton bolted, running for miles, sensing Marguerite, feeling her fear and need ... and her misery. He
was almost there but, instinctively, knew she was going to need more than his presence to stop an over
powering hunger that, by the hour, grew more and more out of control.

Halting suddenly, standing his ground and sniffing the air about him, Roxton heard noise and smelled
adrenaline. A predator. On the prowl. More than one. Yet, not Annay or Finzure. Not Calista. A lower
order of beasts. As he perceived them they smelled the blood from his wound ...

He ran. They were right behind him. His breath ached in his chest; sweat ran in rivers down his face;
muscles burned beneath his skin; his leg bled in a slow, warm gush with each step. But he couldn't stop.
She was waiting and counting on him. Under those conditions she wouldn't last long. He couldn't let her
down.

Ignore the pain. Don't think. Just run. Survive.

*****

"Marguerite?" she heard Malone's gentle voice, "Is that you?"

They had struck the chain with heavy rocks, twisting a link, snapping it apart then pulling the binding
from the wooden box. They then tugged aggressively at the door, crying exclamations of relief, throwing
it aside when they saw her.

The world stood before her -- the sun pouring in as it danced upon the leafy trees above. Flowers
bloomed all around. Her friends were smiling ... and Marguerite wanted to run and hide. With what
appeared to be humility or sickness, she bowed her head low, pushing herself from the box and away
from them. Marguerite's long hair hid her face. She couldn't look at them. She had to avoid her friends at
all cost; not think of them.

"Are you all right? What happened to you?" she heard Veronica ask.

A gentle hand, probably Challengers, touched her shoulder, trying to guide Marguerite over to them but
she pushed it away. No contact. If she felt their tender flesh ... their oh so tempting warmth she would not
be able to contain herself. Marguerite's shoulders were raised high, like a jackals, and she was slouched
over slightly, looking to the ground. She needed something. Anything. Even if it was just a small animal
or bug.

"Marguerite, do you know where Roxton is?" Malone asked, glancing at both Challenger and Veronica,
obviously worried. "Talk to us."

"Go away." Marguerite said curtly, with a near growl, distracted as she searched the ground. "I'll be
okay. Roxton is well. Go away."

Veronica, exasperated, reach over and roughly seized her arm, "Marguerite!" She pulled the woman up
so they could could see her face, then gasped. She was so pale ...

With a powerful snap, Marguerite reared back and drew her arm away. She snarled, "Will you listen to
me? Go away!" but her face was pure anguish, "You *must* before I hurt you!"

"Your eyes! They're *gold*." Veronica murmured, astonished.

Challenger stepped slightly closer, noting her glistening forehead, remembering something from a past
experience. "Do you have a fever?"

"I tried to warn you ..." Marguerite began to breath heavily, her vision taking in all her one time
companions now, her teeth gnashing together, trying desperately to fight the need that was consuming
her. "I'll give you a running chance!" she cried, "Then I'll have to eat you." A small smile began to grow
on her face at the thought of fresh meat.

"What is she talking about?" Malone asked, totally in the dark.

"Calista ..." Challenger began to recall, "Is she here, Marguerite?" he asked, despair in his voice, "Did
she somehow survive? Does she have Roxton?"

Tentatively, Veronica pulled the knife from her boot.

Without warning, with a strength no one could have imagined, Marguerite reached forward and grasped
Malone, who stood closest to her, tightly by the throat. She pulled him in front of her, stalling the others.
"I can break his neck as if it were a matchstick." she announced to her stunned friends. Then
Marguerite whispered in his ear, strangely teasing: "Ned, you have a delicious way with syntax ... Are
you delicious in other ways as well?" She giggled, delirious with hunger, her fingers rubbing up and down
his neck, feeling the younger man's jugular vein.

"Marguerite!" came a cry in the distance.

Releasing her hold on Malone and propelling him in Challenger's general direction, Marguerite looked
to where the call came from. It was her love. He had come to rescue her ... Marguerite saw only foliage
but could hear other sounds as well. Howling. Barking and savage growls. "Roxton?" she asked in a
whisper. "Who is with you?"

By the time Marguerite uttered Roxton's name the explorers could hear the howls too and looked about
the area, uneasy. Both Challenger and Malone had their firearms drawn.

Then she saw them, several sets of eyes looking at them from behind trees, bushes and other plants.
"Wolves ..." Marguerite murmured, a grin radiating her face. She might have been overjoyed at the
contest between beast and beast if it wasn't for their numbers. A large pack were descending upon she
and the others. "Roxton?" she questioned again, sensing he was near.

The wolves, their ears high and aciculate, slowly crept forward. They had scrutinized their prey long
enough and now wanted to feast. They were large animals, bigger and more intelligent than the wolves
from beyond the plateau. They continued to move forward, their lips curled back, revealing sharp teeth;
ready to bite and tear.

"Steady ..." Challenger warned as he and the others backed up, slowly.

"Pretty, pretty boy." Marguerite's grin was huge and knowing, her hands splayed wide in front of her, as
her eyes locked onto those of a young male who decided she would be his to relish. "You want me bad,
don't you, handsome?" she coaxed.

"Marguerite, stop it." Veronica pleaded, part of her attention on a black canine with harsh green eyes.
He appeared to be studying the jungle girl's shapely legs as if they would make a nice appetizer.

When hell eventually broke lose it was with the very familiar roar of Lord John Roxton as he vaulted
from a huge boulder and landed directly in front of Marguerite. He struck out with his dagger, catching
the wolf skulking up to her, with super-human force. He drove into the male's belly then ripped the blade
swiftly upward. Its death, with only a single yelp, had been instantaneous and satisfying. Roxton then
tossed the beast to the ground in front of his beloved and shouted only one word, "Eat!" before he and
the others fought off the rest of the pack. Roxton felt warmed when Marguerite, taking less than a
moment, reached up and planted a small kiss on his cheek, before throwing herself on all fours in front of
the dead wolf.

The struggle was tough but surprising brief. The wolves seemed to know they were outmatch, particularly
with a ghoulishly adept hunter-creature against them. Five of their numbers lay dead from the cursed
human weapons that had been turned against them. Also, the sight of the subhuman female, happily
feasting on their brethren, was a bit too much for even this seasoned pack of predators to endure.

Forgetting the others for a time, as they finished off the last of their attackers then turned their attention
to their fated friends, Roxton knelt beside Marguerite. He gently patted her back and stroked her hair
as she drank from the wolf's neck. He always loved watching her devour prey. She was delicate but
ruthless and divinely greedy. She made him hungry just watching her.

As she fed one of Marguerite's hands snuck away and touched the area of Roxton's leg where Annay
had stabbed him. The blood on his pant leg had dried. Already, do to their cabalistic powers, the wound
was healing and Roxton sensed Marguerite's gratitude for this and the fine meal he had presented to
her.

"No, Marguerite, stop!" Veronica cried as she and the two men watched her, horrified.

Simultaneously, both Roxton and Marguerite looked up at their treehouse companions. This was a
moment Roxton had been dreading. They wouldn't ... *couldn't* begin to understand what he and
Marguerite were. Superior life forms always had to explain themselves to the uninformed and close
minded.

"We can help you." Challenger said, momentarily stunned by the sight of his friends, their pale skin,
glowing eyes and now the blood that trailed from the corners of Marguerite's mouth and dribbled onto
the front of her clothes. "Let me do what I can to bring you back to us."

"No, George." Roxton's tone was absolute but quivered. He had fed earlier but already, watching the
three tempting forms standing before him, Roxton was feeling hunger puncture his senses. "Marguerite
and I are happy. You have to leave."

"You're possessed." Malone murmured, both concern and disgust thinly etched on his good-looking face.

"No." Challenger corrected, "They're infected and can be cured."

"Belladonna." Veronica recalled a conversation she had with Challenger two years previously after he,
Marguerite and Roxton returned from the journey where Roxton was infected by that vampire-like
being. The plant, carefully prepared, had cured Roxton's illness but it had also almost killed him.

"Not this time." Roxton tugged on Marguerite's arm, "Come, love." he directed, preparing them both
for a getaway. Yet, he was quite suddenly stricken when she did not move. Roxton looked down at the
woman and met her uncertain eyes with his, "Marguerite?" he questioned.

Marguerite glanced down at her smeared hands and wiped them in the grass by her sides. She then
looked at the blood stain on the front of her robe and gown. Eventually and tentatively, her vision took in
the dead wolf laying at her knees. She pushed it away. 'What is wrong with this picture?' she pondered
for a moment. "Look at me, John." Marguerite whispered, childlike. "What have I ... *we* become?"
She looked up once again, taking in his concerned and somewhat horrified expression, "I have nowhere
to go but home to the treehouse. I cannot return to the palace. You understand that, don't you?" Her
bottom lip tremble slightly as she looked from Roxton to her other companions, "Can you see what we
are to them? How they look at us as if we ..." she asked.

"But they're wrong." Roxton whispered gently, close to her ear. "You know they're wrong."

"No." she murmured back, "They're right. We've become animals, John. What we think of as superior is
only in our minds. We may have predatory abilities and have fooled ourselves into believing we can talk
to the elements, to the moon and stars, but we're merely *beasts*. Animals. We've become the sort of
creatures you and I used to look down on once upon a time."

"No ... No Marguerite." Roxton lifted his hands to her shoulders, turning her to him.

"John, if we stay this way," Marguerite continued, "one day, as hard as we've tried to avoid it, we're not
going to be able to stop ourselves. We will go after the Zanga - not sparing a man, woman or child - and
all the other peaceful tribes on this plateau. And we will also ..." she glanced again at Veronica and the
others, " ... stalk those we love most. I know that now."

"Together we're strong and can overcome anything." Roxton attempted assurance but suddenly didn't
seem so certain himself anymore.

"Or together we will cause more damage and destruction than we could have ever thought possible. Our
souls will be damned for all time, John. Can't you see ..." Her golden eyes looked up into his ambers,
pleading for understanding. "I want to be human again. I want to feel all those imperfect things I felt
before the change. I want to be with my friends, my true family, who love me and *you* and would never
attempt to hurt or destroy us because of anger or jealousy."

Roxton stared into her eyes, "I can't let you go."

"Then come with me. Please." Fingers raised to touch his cheek, "I love you, John Roxton." and it came
from her heart. It didn't matter who was watching. It was true and as much as he could not fathom the
thought of being without her Marguerite knew if she did what was right, became the human she was born
to be, thoughts of a life without her precious Lord Roxton was something she would never get over.
Especially if she knew he was still alive out there somewhere, existing as a creature of the hunt. "If we
don't do something now we *will* become evil, John." Then she added, "I've been evil before and I don't
want to go there again."

"Roxton ... come back to us." Malone called over to them and crouched a few feet in front of the couple,
"You're my brother in so many ways. Marguerite is my sister."

Veronica, beside him, did the same. "We love you. It's not the same at home without either of you.
Please come back." Her vision focused on Roxton, "Be our savior, John."

Finally, Challenger kneeled beside Malone and Veronica and also looked from Marguerite to Roxton.
"We miss you. We need you. We're lost without you. For our sakes, please come back."

Roxton closed his eyes. The certainty of everything he held important and dear was being slowly
shredded before his very eyes. He could refuse them, allow them to cure Marguerite, then come for her
again some day. They could run away together ... and, as much as she loved him, Marguerite would
detest him for the rest of their unnatural lives. She forgave his selfishness once but never again. She
would hate him and he wouldn't blame her. What was his other option? He could try to do without
Marguerite, live with Calista and their servants, always the master; always in command ... yet very bitter
and furious, in pain, never feeling the depth of affectionate Marguerite and, yes, his other genuine
friends elicited from his soul.

'You would be deliriously unhappy.' a voice whispered in his head. This time is wasn't Calista who spoke
to him or even the imagined voice of Marguerite. For the first time in a long while John Roxton heard his
own voice. He opened his eyes and looked down at his beloved who was still gazing up at him, patiently
waiting for his answer.

"I go where you go." he said, touching Marguerite's hair. Roxton then looked to Challenger, Veronica
and Malone. "And I live where I'm supposed to be, with my family, with the people who have taught me
more in the past three years than any others I have ever known in my life." He took Marguerite by the
arm and helped her stand by his side. "Yes," Roxton exhaled with a shuddering blast of air, "cure us."

Marguerite slid her hand in his and gently squeezed Roxton's fingers.

*****

Many eyes from the deep dark jungle, which lay about them, stared as the humans proceeded to gather
belladonna and build a fire.

"He has betrayed me for the last time ..." a voice whispered through the breeze. "He will regret his
actions forever."

No, this wasn't over. Not yet.

****