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Part 10-a 

Week Two:

Peter peered into the fog.  "Are we lost?  I can't see more 
than a foot in front of me."

The steersman's voice came from the back of the raft 
punctuated by the steady splash of his oars, his form a 
barely visible shadow in the mist.  "We're due West of 
Mark's island and on course.  The compass won't let us get 
lost."

"Where did this stuff come from?" Peter asked.  "It was 
perfectly clear when we left the island."  He had asked 
Beth to come with him but she declined for some reason.  
Looked like she had better instincts than any of them.

Beth was a good worker and had assumed command of Peter's 
island the times he was gone, even staying in his tent 
where everyone could find her easily the night he stayed on 
Ace's island.  A shy little thing.  But he was patient and 
his patience had been rewarded.  He smiled, remembering how 
well it had been rewarded.

The steersman broke into his musings.  "Fogs come up 
unexpectedly sometimes.  We've been lucky to have a week of 
clear weather."

"We wouldn't be stuck in this fog if Gene was being 
sensible," Peter grumbled. "There's no need for all of us 
to be on his island first thing this morning.  There's no 
reason Ace should have to drag Shandi off his island.  
Gene's just trying to show he's in charge.  Marooned in the 
middle of nowhere and Gene Simmons still has to pull all 
the strings."

The steersman said, " The girl is our only source of 
information on this place."

"She doesn't know anything," Peter replied.  "Me and Ace 
have tried to find out stuff from her.  She's been alone on 
Ace's island, except for her monkey Coco, for as far back 
as she can remember.  She's visited some of the others, not 
sure which ones; but she's never run into anyone else."

"But where'd she get some of the stuff she had?" the 
steersman asked.  "She had the remains of clothes.  And she 
knew some English."

"Maybe she was a castaway like we are," Peter answered.  
"Maybe she fell overboard and hit her head and has amnesia.  
But badgering her isn't going to help and you can bet 
Gene's going to push for answers."  He suddenly turned and 
gazed out into the fog.  "What's that?"

"What?"

"That steady beat," Peter said, trying to hear it clearly.  
"Stop paddling!"  He listened in the silence.  "It's not 
drums.  Not someone pounding something either."

"We're not near any of the islands.  Maybe it's one of the 
other rafts."

Peter cupped his hands around his mouth.  "HELLOoo!"  He 
listened.  "No answer.  But I still hear it."  He turned to 
say something to the steersman.

Strong hands grabbed Peter and yanked him into the air.  He 
got out a single cry before a hand covered his mouth.  

"PETER!"  the steersman threw himself to the front of the 
raft, searching the water for a sign of the missing man.  
Had he seen a shadow or not?  Had Peter fallen overboard?  
He leaned over the edge of the raft, trying to see into the 
water below.  Where was he?  What had happened?

He suddenly grabbed the engine and kicked it into noisy 
life.  Fuel was precious since they did not know how long 
it would have to last, but this was an emergency.
*	*	*	*	*	*	*
Gene looked around the clearing.  "Everyone's here but 
Peter.  He's taking a page from your book, Ace."
	
"I haven't written my memoirs yet," Ace answered with a 
chuckle.  Shandi sat on the ground by his feet, her monkey 
hiding behind her and she was looking like she wanted to do 
the same behind Ace.

 "Peter had the longest trip, all the way around Paul's 
island to get here," Eric Carr pointed out reasonably, 
sitting next to Tiger.  "And with this fog they might have 
missed their turning point and had to double back."

"Probably overslept."  Gene glared at Vinnie and Angel 
sitting to one side of the clearing.  He would have loved 
to not invite Vinnie, but this was something that involved 
all of them.  He had to put his feelings aside and try to 
get EVERYONE to work together if they were going to keep 
things going until rescue arrived.

Paul gazed at the fog surrounding the dormant volcano peak 
on Gene's island.  "Maybe we better have the signalers send 
a message and check on when Peter left.  Can the lights be 
seen through the fog out there?"

Mark St John laughed.  "Only if you're the one holding it.  
The fog is strange.  It comes in patches, and those patches 
are so thick you can't see your hand in front of your face.  
If we hadn't had a compass you'd be wondering where I was 
too."

Gene sighed, annoyed by the wasted time.  "Okay.  We wait."

Vinnie sat and carefully hid his smile.  He loved watching 
Gene squirm.  And soon Gene and Paul would be squirming a 
lot.
*	*	*	*	*	*	*
Peter tried to roll with the impact when his captor dropped 
him on the ground.  He scrambled to his feet, turning to 
get his first good look.  He had to have imagined this.

No, he hadn't.  The woman had long midnight black hair that 
fell around her shoulders and matched the black leathery 
bat wings on her back.  Her pale skin just made the raven 
hair stand out more.  Tattered remnants of cloth barely 
covered the necessary areas, and exposed a figure that made 
Peter's throat go tight.  There was a savage wildness to 
her that called to his basest instincts.


"Who you?"  she asked.

"That's what I'd like to know."  Peter gazed around them.  
The fog enclosed them on all sides.  He was unsure what 
island they were on or how far she had carried him.  "Where 
are we?"

She smiled, exposing sharp fangs.  "Safe."

Peter edged back.  "Uh, you any relation to a girl who can 
turn into a cat?"

"No," she said.  She stalked across the clearing, cornering 
him with his back against a boulder.  

"My name's Peter," he said quickly, a little frightened by 
the hungry look in her eyes.  "What's your name?  Do you 
have one?"

She thought a moment.  "Darkraven.  Others call me 
Darkraven."

"So can you get rid of the wings?"  he asked, trying to 
keep her talking.  "Or turn into a bat?"

Darkraven shook her head.  "This all I am."  She turned 
away.

Her obvious discomfort touched him, removing his fear of 
her.  He reached out and touched her arm.  "I think you 
have nice wings."

She turned back and looked at him.

"Very useful," he continued.  "You flew me here.  You could 
fly me to any island couldn't you?"

She nodded.

"That's better than turning into a cat or bat or anything," 
he said, taking her hand.  

Something chuckled in the fog.

"Drakkon!"  Darkraven snarled, moving to place herself 
between the fog and Peter.

A dark shadow appeared in the mist.  It grew and became 
solid.

The man looked at them, his mahogany-colored feline eyes 
cold and unreadable.  Even with his mouth closed, his upper 
fangs were prominently visible over his lower lip.  His 
clothes were faded but still in reasonably good shape, and 
worn with sartorial dignity befitting the finest silk.  His 
long blonde mane was carefully groomed.  He walked into the 
clearing with a smooth grace that spoke of strength and 
power.  "You have captured one of the New Ones," he purred.

"Mine!"  Darkraven snapped.  "You not have!"

Drakkon smiled with confident superiority.  "There are many 
others.  You may keep this one.  If the Beast lets you."

Darkraven gave the fog a terrified look.  "Beast walks?"

"The Beast walks," Drakkon agreed.  "There is safety in 
numbers."

"The Beast hunts well with herd," Darkraven spat.  "I need 
no others."

"IT is not bound to any island," Drakkon reminded with a 
chilly calm.  "IT walks wherever the mist gathers."

Darkraven gave the fog another worried look.

"Still want to be alone?" Drakkon asked softly.

"Go!" Darkraven hissed.  "I protect me and mine.  This one 
mine!"

Drakkon chuckled.  "Try not to break this one."  He turned 
to go.

"Wait!"  Peter stepped to the side so he could face the 
strange man.  "Who are you?  Where am I?"

The fanged man turned slightly, looking at Peter over his 
shoulder.  "Drakkon Fyre."  He raised a hand and 
contemplated the sharp claws that suddenly sprang from his 
fingertips.  "Remember my name."  He looked up, eyes 
catching Peter's and sending a cold chill down the 
drummer's spine.  "If you're lucky, I will be close enough 
to hear you when you scream it."  He stepped into the fog 
and was gone.

Darkraven turned and grabbed Peter by the arms.  "No trust 
Drakkon!  Trust only Darkraven!  Promise!"

"What's this Beast?" Peter asked.  "I have friends on the 
islands.  Are they in danger?"

Darkraven gave a fast look at the fog.  "Beast in the Mist.  
It slept.  Why wake?"  She gave Peter a suspicious look.  
"You wake?"

"I don't know anything about any beast," Peter assured her, 
shaken by the fear he saw in her eyes.

She stood frozen for several seconds, her eyes searching 
his.  She finally relaxed.

Peter relaxed.  Just because this strange woman kidnapped 
him and had fangs to make Dracula proud, he did not have to 
fear her.  Shandi could turn into a giant cat and she 
protected Ace from those dogs.  Perhaps the dogs were what 
Drakken was talking about.  "Listen, if there's something 
loose that's dangerous I need to get back and warn the 
others.  I was on my way to a meeting with the rest of KISS 
when you, uh, when we met.  If you'd take me to one of the 
central islands I can easily get there and warn them."

"Much life on other islands now," Darkraven warned.  "Only 
we here.  Safer here.  The Beast will hunt where life 
plentiful."

"All the more reason I need to get back," Peter insisted, 
deducing he must be on what they had mistakenly thought was 
the uninhabited Island Ten.  "I need to get back and warn 
Beth.  I left her in charge on my island.  And we don't 
have a bunch of musclemen like Vinnie does."

"Beth?"  Darkraven's eyes for a second had a reddish gleam.  
"You have woman?"

Peter glanced away.  "We met since we got marooned here.  
It's not anything permanent."  A hand touched his arm.

The bat-winged woman stepped closer, a come-hither smile on 
her lips.  Her voice was velvety warm.  "Peter say 
Darkraven have nice wings.  Peter like Darkraven?"

It was obvious he was not dealing with an innocent like Ace 
had with Shandi.  "Peter thinks Darkraven is very 
beautiful."

"Peter want Darkraven?" she whispered, hands settling on 
his shoulders.

He cupped his hand on the side of her face.  "Peter would 
love to make love to Darkraven."

Darkraven pulled him close, her wings wrapping around him.  
She unbuttoned his shirt and ran her fingers up his chest, 
ending with a caress of his neck.  "Darkraven know how 
pleasure."  She kissed him.

Her fangs worried him for just a few seconds, and then her 
fingers migrated down to his jeans and started unfastening 
them.  He could overlook small differences when it was 
quite evident this lady was hot and ready for action.  He 
eagerly helped her remove what little clothing she wore 
along with all he was wearing.  This was definitely turning 
into a cruise to remember.  

Peter woke wrapped in Darkraven's arms and wings.  A 
strange metallic taste was in his mouth.  He remembered 
some intense sex, and Darkraven biting his arm, drinking 
his blood as they made love; and then everything went dark.  
He hesitantly pulled his arm up to see where she had fed.  
Thin stripes of blood wound across his lower arm but the 
skin was unbroken.  "What?" he asked weakly.

"You gave your blood, I gave mine.  If not life fades.  No 
life, no food."  She grimaced.  "Sea not provide good food.  
No taste."

Peter tried to sit up and failed.

"Rest."  She carefully picked him up and carried him 
through the mist.  They entered a cave and she lay him on a 
bed of branches and leaves.  "You safe here.  I find 
manfood, water.  You rest."

"I have to get back."  Peter tried to sit up again and 
failed again.  "I have to warn everyone.  The Beast in the 
Mist."

She gently pushed him down, pulling a tattered blanket over 
him.  "Rest.  I go warn your others."

"Thank you," he whispered, grateful for the warmth and her 
assurance.

Her fingers caressed his arm.  "Rest.  I feed you, you feed 
me."

"Can we do that again?" he asked, remembering the wild 
sensations and feeling the hunger stir inside.

"Rest.  When you stronger we feed again."

Peter smiled, content to lay and rest as long as she 
promised to give him that pleasure again.  Darkraven would 
warn the others.  He could concentrate on recovering his 
strength so they could again experience the feeding.  He 
licked his lips, savoring the lingering taste of her blood.  
Gazing at the cave wall he realized what he had thought 
were shadows were actually figures painted on the rock.  
Rock art.  For some reason the figures gave him a feeling 
of safety.  He closed his eyes and surrendered to sleep.


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