Deathstalker 04 - Deathstalker Honor

Owen’s human hand went for his gun, and a shocking spasm erupted in all his muscles. He cried out in pain despite himself, agony burning in him like a golden, consuming flame. He fell to the floor and lay there convulsing, his teeth bared in a straining rictus. Hazel went to help him, and immediately half a dozen Hadenmen grabbed her. Others grabbed Bonnie Bedlam and Midnight Blue and held them fast. Owen cried out again in pain and horror as his body betrayed him, until finally even his voice was silenced. Someone else’s orders moved in his brain, and he rose smoothly to his feet, a prisoner inside his head. He could feel the golden filaments stirring within him, threaded through every part of him like parasitic metal worms. He couldn’t even turn his head or move his eyes to see what was happening to Hazel, until the Hadenmen did it for him. Hazel was struggling in the grip of the Hadenmen, and they were having a hell of a time holding onto her. Tobias Moon moved unhurriedly forward to stand before her, holding something in his hand. Owen recognized what it was, and tried desperately to call out a warning, but his voice was no longer his own. Hazel was so busy fighting to be free, she didn’t see Moon till it was too late. He gestured to the other augmented men, and using all their strength they were able to force Hazel to her knees and hold her there for a moment. Just long enough for Moon to press his spray hypo against Hazel’s neck and inject her with a massive dose of the drug called Blood. She cried out in shock and horror, tears running down her face as the old cold bliss of Blood coursed through her system again. And all Owen could do was watch.
    Moon stepped back from Hazel and gestured for the other augmented men to let her go. “Enforced Blood addiction will control her for what remains of her life. She will not fight us. She won’t want to.” He looked at the empty hypo in his hand and then let it drop to the floor, as though embarrassed by it. He glanced at Owen, still frozen in place. “We do… what is necessary, Owen. That is the Hadenman way.”
    He turned back to study Bonnie and Midnight. “You are new factors in the equation. Your presence was not anticipated. Remain calm, and you will not be harmed as events progress to their inevitable conclusion.” “Don’t… believe him,” said Hazel on her knees, and everyone turned to look at her again.
    Her face was pale and drawn, dripping sweat, and sudden shudders wracked her body, but her mouth was firm and her gaze was steady, blazing defiance at Moon. “You made a mistake, Hadenman. Blood is old news to me. I beat it before, and I’ll beat it again. Watch.”
    Black Blood spurted suddenly from her nose and ran down over her mouth and chin. More welled up
    from under her eyelids and slid slowly down her cheeks. She opened her mouth, and Blood spilled out in a jerking stream as she drove the drug from her body by sheer force of will. Black drops beaded on her skin, oozing out of every pore. The drug pooled on the floor before her and soaked her clothes until finally it stopped, as suddenly as it began, and Hazel rose to her feet, the last of the Blood dripping from her. She smiled at Moon, and anybody else would have stepped back several paces.
    “You screwed up, Hadenman. I’m not the Hazel you remember. The Maze changed me in ways you can’t even imagine. Now release Owen, or you’re all dead. You might have an army, but I can be an army if I have to.” “So we’ve heard,” said Moon. “That’s one of the reasons why we must have you.
    But we won’t fight you. Owen will do that for us. Won’t you, Owen?” And Owen’s hand drew his sword from his scabbard and held it steadily as his body turned to face Hazel. She started to reach for her own sword and then stopped herself. She faced him squarely, her eyes locked on his. “Don’t do this, Owen. Fight it. You can beat what they did to you, just like I beat the Blood. We’ve been through the Maze. Nothing can command us anymore. Owen, stop. Please. Don’t make me fight you.”
    But he was helpless in the grip of the golden filaments, a prisoner in his own head. He struggled to make even the slightest move of his own and couldn’t, and his helpless screams of protest never left his mouth.
    He stepped smoothly forward and thrust his sword at Hazel’s unprotected breast. It was a killing blow, launched with inhuman speed, and anyone else would have died. But Hazel