Ignis

by Lula Monk

  Clea.

  Chapter 15

  Clea

  The Ardan slept for another long stretch of time, half on and half off the charred mattresses. The weight of his body was so heavy that the already damaged mattresses had given way until the alien was practically lying flat on the floor.

  While Ignis slumbered, Clea set to work attempting to clean the chamber. It was a difficult task, for there were no cleaning implements, no chemicals. No trash can. Nowhere to put the broken pieces of glass and twisted hunks of metal.

  Clea did as best she could, using a larger hunk of metal to slide and push the smaller pieces to a corner of the room. She took the ruined remains of Ignis’s bath towel, which had survived the onslaught of his flames only because it had been partially protected by the ruined tabletop. She went to the cleansing chamber and soaked it in water, returning to the room to scrub the tattered fabric over the soot and scorch marks, trying desperately to remove all traces of the fire that had raged from the room.

  It wasn’t that she wanted to get rid of all signs of Ignis, or that she was even afraid that the insectoid Slep would be upset that the room was in ruins. No, Clea struggled so hard to clean the room because she could not bear to exist in a space that reminded her so much of the night that changed her family forever.

  When she was confident Ignis was asleep and would not awake if disturbed, she crept over to the mattresses and shoved her hand between them at the bottom, searching for the little pouch of pills. Not finding anything, she shoved her arm in deeper, up to the elbow, careful not to get too close to the area of the mattress where Ignis’s legs were.

  Nothing.

  It’s not as if the pills would have made it through all that, anyway, she thought bitterly. All that heat… nothing could have made it through unscathed.

  She stood, discouraged, rubbing her soot-covered palms on her now filthy pajama bottoms. Then her eyes fell on the blackened and ruined towel. The towel had made it… maybe the pills could have too. But perhaps when Ignis had thrown the mattress, they were still together, and maybe the area she’d just been searching had previously been the head of the bed.

  She had to look on the other side, where the alien was stretched out and – hopefully – sleeping soundly.

  Clea crept to the opposite end of the bed, her bare feet feeling every bit of slick grit and grime on the fire-scorched stone. The sensation of the debris particles underfoot sent shivers up her spine. The last time she was in this situation, she’d had on good shoes with thick rubber soles; no part of that night affected her flesh. Not like Kyesha’s.

  Her vision blurred. The tears sprang to her eyes unbidden once more, and she blinked them away.

  As if sensing the change in Clea’s demeanor, Ignis stirred, rolling his great and muscular body over, taking up more surface area on the mattress.

  Clea crouched down, praying the warrior wouldn’t awaken. She gently slid her hand between the mattresses a second time.

  Just she was about to give up, Clea’s fingers brushed across the little cloth bag. She extracted the pouch slowly – ever so slowly – careful not to disrupt the mattresses. When the pouch was free, she dumped the little white pills out onto her palm, pleased to find that they were miraculously all intact. She still didn’t know how she would use the pills or what purpose they might serve the revolution, but it was nice to have something on her side. Something she could use to help out.

  Her eyes darted around the room, unable to see where else she could possibly hide the pills.

  Ignis rolled over.

  Panicking, Clea shoved the pouch in her bra. Since arriving at the Hub, she’d been pleased that she’d been abducted – wow, she never thought she’d think those words – on one of the rare nights she wore a bra to bed. For had she not had a bra while doing all of these walks around the Rim and exertion that she was doing, she would’ve been extremely uncomfortable. Now, it served the additional function of being her hiding place for the medicine from the Quadra.

  As if summoned by the sheer force of her mind, a loud bang sounded at the portal wall.

  Clea hurriedly covered herself, concealing the pills in the cup of her bra just as the portal opened.

  One of the Cephs. “What occurred here?”

  Clea furrowed her brows at the creature. Every time someone from the corridor knocked on the portal wall, that sound was enough to let Clea know someone was about to enter. How was it that she could hear the guards every time they knocked, but they could not hear when Ignis raged, throwing tables and mattresses and chairs against the wall and ceiling, his flames splaying out to scorch every square inch of the room?

  Clea glared at the Cephalopod. “Ignis woke up.”

  The Quadra scurried passed the guards, entering the room with the only instruments it was permitted to bring Clea clutched into his four hands. It’s eyes widened looking at the room. He handed Clea the small portion of pills and set the canister of combustible fluid on the floor.

  “What happened here?” it asked, echoing the Ceph’s words.

  Clea flared her nostrils, breathing in deeply and out slowly. Again, she said, “Ignis woke up.”

  The Quadra trilled. “How is he feeling?”

  Clea rolled her eyes, sweeping an arm wide to gesture at the blackened room. “Not great.”

  The creature scurried over to Ignis, frowning as it went. “This will not do.”

  “Yeah, I know,” said Clea, thinking the creature meant the state of the room

  But that wasn’t the healer’s concern.

  “The Ardan needs exercise – exertion – in order to heal. His wounds are vast. Apparently sleep was not the accurate form of healing for the Ardan.” The Quadra bent down, running its hands over Ignis’s body. “His wounds are already much healed from his display.”

  Display, thought Clea with a sneer. I would hardly call trashing the room a ‘display.’

  Give him the benefit of the doubt, she reminded herself.

  “So, what do you suggest?” she asked the Quadra. “Because he can’t keep waking up and incinerating the room. I barely escaped last time.”

  The Quadra turned its head to Clea. “How is it that you came to escape?” It looked around at the black soot covering every surface except the ones Clea had already cleaned. “His power was expansive.”

  Clea shrugged, crossing her arm. Something about the Quadra’s question seemed to go past mere small talk; it seemed to be fishing for something. For information. “Just did.”

  “But how?” the Quadra persisted, rising to its four feet.

  Clea jerked her chin to the cleansing chamber. “In that.”

  The Quadra wasted no time. It hurried on its many feet across the small expanse of the room, thoroughly analyzing every inch of the metal cubicle. When it was done, it turned back to Clea. “You were able to stay safe in such a device?”

  “Obviously,” Clea said, her tone saturated with frustration. Why the hell did everyone ask the same questions over and over and over again? Then, assuming she knew what the Quadra would ask next, Clea said, “It also keeps his flames in, for what it’s worth.”

  The Quadra trilled. “Is there no escaping of the flames at all?”

  What a stupid fucking question… the thing is made to pump combustible fuel over his body, which he then burns off. If it was made to function with that purpose, it would only make sense that it would contain his flames.

  But she said none of that, settling instead for a simple, “Yeah.”

  The Quadra nodded, wringing its pairs of hands together. After a moment or two of deep contemplation, its double brows furrowed. The creature went to gather the medical supplies it had brought into the room.

  “Where are you going?” Clea asked, her eyes jumping from the Quadra to Ignis’s unconscious body.

  “The Ardan will no longer need the sleeping pills,” said the healer. “And he should be exerting his powers, it would seem. Not suppression them.”

  The Quadra wal
ked to the portal, and Clea dashed across the room, grabbing it by one of its elbows. “So how do I help him?”

  The Quadra shrugged her off. “You do not.”

  “But how will he get better?” Clea’s heart skipped a beat in her chest. Was she actually concerned about the fiery alien? No. She couldn’t be. She was just …. Displaying residual sympathy from tending to his wounds for so long. Yeah. That was it.

  “I will speak to the Chief Officer to prescribe periods of extreme exertion for the Ardan.”

  Clea still did not understand. “What does that mean?”

  The Quadra stepped through the portal and nodded his head to one of the Ceph guards. The beefy creature lifted a tentacle to the wall, and the portal began to close.

  “It means,” said the Quadra from the other side of the ever-reducing portal, “that the Ardan will have the space and time necessary to let his flames free. To heal.”

  Then the portal sealed shut.

  Clea stood blinking at the metal for a long, long time. The idea of Ignis getting to let out some of his aggression and pent-up energy sounded well enough, but did she really want the Ardan to be out in the Hub? Subjected to the whims and will of the insectoid? And what if he saw that alleged bastard prince, Cyndar, again?

  What would happen if Ignis tried to attack the Smold for a second tie?

  That’s not your concern, Clea. You have a purpose on this station, and it is not to protect the Ardan. Or to even care about him farther than his ability to help you get what you need. So you just stop this bullshit line of thought right the hell now.

  She turned on her heels, determined to do just that. But as she picked up the tattered towel to begin cleaning the room again, her eyes fell on Ignis. Seeing the network of scars still healing across his body – and the stark dark marks of the scars that wouldn’t seem to fade – Clea knew that that was a lie.

  She did care about Ignis, as much as she really, really, really did not want to.

  Fucking Florence Nightingale Syndrome.

  She grumbled under her breath as she worked at cleaning the blackness from the surfaces. There was nothing she could do about her present situation, being cooped up in this stinking hellhole of a room with the bitterness of her past tugging at the fringes of her mind, trying to drag memories better forgotten back to the surface.

  But she could try her absolute damnedest to push the feelings growing for Ignis down deep, deep inside and pray they fizzled out.

  It took several dozen trips to and from the cleansing chamber to rinse the towel and continue cleaning the walls and floor of the room. But, after what felt like a hundred hours of scrubbing, rubbing, and rinsing, the room began to look somewhat normal.

  “You are doing a good job, Earth woman.”

  The deep and gravelly voice made Clea flinch.

  “Would you fucking stop doing that?”

  “Doing what?” asked the Ardan as he used the wall to pull himself up from the floor. Once on his feet, he gave Clea a mischievous grin. “Observing you in strenuous activities?”

  “Observing me at all.” She glowered at him. Who the hell did he think he was, breeching their unspoken contract of avoidance? Because creepily staring at her while she trained or cleaned was definitely not part of the boundaries they had silently established between them.

  She gave the alien a once over, assessing him from head to foot from across the room. He was healing nicely; even though his body apparently needed exertion and the releasing of his flames to mend, the nap had improved his disposition, it would seem. The extremely long length of his nap struck her suddenly.

  “How long have you been awake?”

  Ignis shrugged, stifling a yawn with his broad hand. “No Idea. You were scrubbing the portal wall, though.”

  Clea sucked in a sharp breath, her temper spiking to its utmost limit. If she had flames in her body like Ignis, they would be swirling around the room right now, released by the Ardan’s words and her resulting anger.

  “That was hours ago!” she said her voice coming out more high-pitched and whiney than she’d intended. She cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and spoke again. “Why the fuck did you just lay there and watch me clean? This was your mess,” she said, shaking the blackened towel reeking of soot in his direction. “You could have at least gotten up and tended to something.”

  “But why?” Ignis asked. “You were doing such a superb job.”

  Clea’s mouth fell open, and taking in the sight, Ignis laughed.

  “Don’t be so angry, Earth woman. I’m only teasing.”

  Clea tossed the filthy towel across the room, relishing the astounded look on Ignis’s face when it hit him square in the chest.

  “Fuck you,” she said.

  “Gladly,” he replied with a feral grin.

  He took a step towards her, but Clea retreated, keeping her eyes trained on his face.

  “I don’t think so, man.”

  Ignis reached a fist up and pressed against his chin, sending the bones in his neck to cracking. “And why not?”

  The anger flared back up in Clea, only temporarily dampened by the thought of the Ardan forcing himself on her.

  Now she wasn’t angry. She was pissed.

  “I have spent day – days – tending to your barbequed, crispy ass, and the first thing you do when you wake up is have a fucking hissy fit and tear the room to pieces. Your damn flames fucked up everything in here, Ignis. In case you have lost the ability to use your eyes.”

  He had the decency to look embarrassed. “I was… out of sorts, from my altercation with…”

  His voice trailed off, and fledgling flames burned in the orbs of his eyes.

  Whoa.

  Clea took a step back from the alien, both entranced and repulsed by the constrained flames in Ignis’s eyes. She said, “We don’t have to talk about that.”

  “Good.”

  Clea gave the Ardan a sharp nod, not knowing what else to say.

  She was surprised when he was the one to bring the subject back up.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to know the history behind the me and the bastard prince?”

  Clea thought back to the Ardan’s anger at mentioning Cyndar, the evidence of his fury stacked high in the farthest corner of the room, the mangled pieces of metal standing as a tribute to the alien’s rage. “I’m good.”

  Ignis shrugged. “I won’t offer such an explanation again; I’m only doing so now because you have been so diligent in caring for me while I was…”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Clea said, her face burning. Something about the way Ignis was looking at her – with his eyes soft and his gaze intense – was making her feel a way she never thought the Ardan could make her feel.

  She racked her brain for something to say, something to take the alien’s attention off her. “The Quadra came not too long ago.”

  Ignis snarled. “What did that over-imposing creature desire?”

  “It was just doing a routine check on you. It’s come frequently, while you were passed out. Brought more gasoline and sleeping pills.”

  Ignis glanced around the room. The Ardan narrowed his eyes at Clea, the accusation in them evident. “Where are the supplies?”

  Well, that was fast. Looks like I don’t have to worry about any good feelings between us anytime soon.

  “It took them back. Said you didn’t need them anymore”

  “Stupid creature,” Ignis said, holding his arms straight out and observing his still-marred flesh. “I still have healing to do. The sleeping pills would have been useful.”

  The small pouch of pills Clea had stashed in her bra seemed to begin to radiate heat, as though the Ardan knew of their existence and was making her aware of their presence.

  She cleared her throat. “The Quadra said you needed to use your powers, not sleep. It thinks letting your flames free more often will allow you to heal faster.”

  Ignis nodded, cracking his neck in the other direction.

&
nbsp; He must be stiff from sleeping so long, Clea speculated.

  “What was his solution for that then, eh?” Ignis asked suddenly, his tone tight and clipped. “It is obvious you will not allow me to flex my flames here, in this chamber. You moan of cleaning, and I’ve seen the way you cower at my fire.”

  Clea’s spine went rigid.

  Give him the benefit of the doubt.

  Ignis didn’t know about her past, did know the reason fire terrified her so much. If he did, perhaps he wouldn’t call her a coward. But the accusation still stung, and Clea found that she couldn’t help herself. She had to address it.

  “I’m not a coward,” she said.

  Ignis scoffed. “Only a weakling would balk in the face of nature’s true power. And you always do, Earth woman. Your words are lies, which make you doubly a coward.”

  Clea’s blood roared in her ears. “Maybe I have a reason for being afraid of your flames. Did you ever consider that?”

  “I’m certain coming from a warrior of my size and stature, my flames must be even more terrifying to your coward mind than the flames of other Ardan’s would be,” said Ignis, his words twisting the blade in Clea’s mind.

  “You can be such an asshole,” Clea said, tears pricking at her eyes. She blinked them back, using her anger as fuel to burn them away.

  Ignis sucked in a sharp breath, his nostrils flared. “What did I say about calling me that?”

  Clea crossed her arms, a cocky smile tugging at her lips. Gotcha.

  “You said I could call you whatever I wanted.”

  Ignis stared at the floor, his brow furrowed. Realization dawned across his face bright as morning, quickly followed by the dark look of a man who has placed himself in an unwanted situation of his own making. “Fine,” he said. “But I shall also call you a coward.”

  Clea flinched. “But I’m not a coward.”

  “But you are,” said Ignis, the wicked grin back on his face. “You flinch at my flames, and you lie about your fear. Both make you a weak-spirited, shallow-hearted coward.”

  Before Clea knew what she was doing, before she was able to stop herself, her fist flashed out and landed square on Ignis’s jaw.