Carpathian 17 - Dark Curse

surrounded her, uplifted her, gave her renewed confidence with their offer of sisterhood.
    Lara looked to her spirit guide. Without hesitation, the little frog who had started in water and transformed to land, began the journey along another root. She felt the warp of time and knew the frog was taking her back so that she would appear as an infant to the assassin.
    At once the acid stopped raining down, but now the attack was different, sharp and focused and very complex.
    It began as a feeling, dread stealing into her mind. A voice whispered to her in the Carpathian language, a repetitious message of hatred. The insidious tone was poisonous, seeping into her mind even though she knew she wasn\'t an infant. The disgust was all too reminiscent of her childhood.
    She forced herself to continue up the taproot, knowing the microbe followed, feeling its presence as it whispered hideous things. No one wanted her. She was worthless. The body carrying her rejected her, fighting to rid itself of such a parasitic creature. Go! Go! Abandon the host. She detested carrying such a weak, pathetic foreign object. Not a person, an object.
    Without warning, something stabbed at her, a vicious hot poker that tore through her outer shell to her soul.
    The microbe had gotten close enough to attack with a retracting stinger. She saw the probe disappear back into the chameleon of an extremophile. The pain was excruciating. Lara stumbled. At once sharpened points raked at her ankle. She nearly panicked, terrified of being injected with a mass of parasites. It was only the crystal in her hand and the sound of feminine voices rising in melodious harmony that kept her from abandoning her infant state.
    She moved faster, her baby cries clearly spurring the microbe on to more vicious action. The murmur of the voice continued, relentlessly pushing at her to give up, to go away, that the body she resided in wanted her gone. Despair was an ever-present companion and now her environment became hostile as well. Attacks came in the form of an army of antibodies. Small chains lashed at her, beating at her in an attempt to drive her out.
    She realized the stinger had tagged her for attack and now the chains of proteins whipped around and through her.
    This was happening to Raven\'s son and Savannahs daughters.
    Outraged, Lara pushed upward toward the traveler\'s entrance where one realm met the other. No matter the Page 155

    Christine Feehan: Dark Curse
    cost to her, she would be bait and bring this hideous killer to the surface where Natalya waited.
    As she moved upward, she felt a burning sensation, not on her outer shell, but deep inside, as if her blood was boiling. The stinger had injected her, not with a parasite, but with an incompatibility to her host\'s blood.
    Already cells were breaking down, causing hemorrhages. And all the while that voice continued to tell her how worthless she was and how much her host didn\'t want her there. Waves of despair swamped her continually.
    Sound began to drown out the voice as pressure built all around her, squeezing down on her while the sound thundered in her ears and her heartbeat picked up pace. The comforting sound of the ebb and flow of life-giving fluid changed to a fast, hard race that roared in her ears, sounding like a frightening freight train coming at her from all sides.
    Lara struggled up the tree, clinging to the sound of the lullaby, forcing the pads of her fingers into the crystal to maintain some semblance of reality. She wept, spurring the microbe on, letting her baby cries whip it into a frenzy so that the organism didn\'t realize she was doing anything but trying to flee its presence. In response, sensing victory, the killer increased its attacks, pressing despondency deep into her mind while it increased its assault.
    Terrified, she fixed her sight on the smoke and mist swirling all around just out of reach. Time slowed, and she felt as if she was wading through quicksand. Her environment became less and less stable, small earthquakes rocking her, pressure squeezing down on her, shrinking her world from every side, fluid building all around her so that she felt as if she was drowning. A swarm of tremors shook the tree from branches to root deep within the ground.
    Just when she thought she might not make it out, the little frog was there, swimming beside her, guiding her through the crumbling walls as violent shock waves attacked her. Fissures opened up around her as stability decreased.