by Webster, K
“These are…different,” she utters, a small chuckle escaping her. “Never seen white cows with red eyes before.”
One in particular looks right at her and ronks.
“Your rogcows don’t look like this?”
She shakes her head. “For one, our cows have four legs, not eight.” Her hand tentatively reaches out, and she pats the rear of one of the beasts. “And they don’t have two tails.” It lifts its head and nudges her with its snout. “Or, weird, one eye.”
Her rogcows must look strange as these look how they always do. Fatter, though. My mouth waters just thinking of sinking my teeth into a meaty thigh and—
“Stop growling or you’ll scare Eye-lean away.”
She enunciates each part of the name. I cock my nog in confusion.
“Eye-lean.”
The rogcow in question ronks loudly at me.
“Look, one eye,” Molly says, “and she leans in when you pet her. Cute, huh?”
Cute is not the word I prefer.
Delicious, perhaps.
“I can slaughter Eye-lean and check her R-Levels. By sundown, we can feast on this—”
Ronnnnnk!
“Draven, no,” she growls. My mate is fierce in this moment.
I arch a brow. “Why not?”
“Because she’s our pet now! You don’t eat pets, babe.” She pats the beast’s head. “Stop looking at her like she’s food. It hurts her feelings. Eye-lean is a part of our family now.”
I suppress a groan, but I do what my mate wills. With a resigned sigh, I slowly approach the animal. I’m surprised that it doesn’t run from me. Instead, it leans into my touch, too. I roam my palm along her fattened sides.
“She is pregnant,” I tell her.
“Awww,” she coos. “Then we have to keep her. She’ll provide us with the milk she needs, and in favor, we can protect her from those scary cat things. I will take care of the calf. I know how to deliver calves. Did it back home when I was a teenager.” Her bright, hopeful brown eyes meet mine. “Please, handsome. Can we keep her?”
“If that is your wish, my mate.”
Perhaps we can eat one of Eye-lean’s ronking friends instead.
13
Molly
Roooooooonk.
The rogcow ambles between the two of us, securely latched to the tether, but I follow a couple steps behind like a worried mother. I missed having animals to take care of, to tend to. Maybe it’s my mothering instinct in overdrive.
The red-orange dust seems to be easier to deal with now that we’re going with the flow rather than against it. It allows at least a modicum of visibility which allows me to notice every time Draven looks back, his fangs practically dripping with drool.
“Stop looking at Eileen like you want to take a bite out of her. The milk she’ll provide to everyone is more than enough reason to keep her alive. Not to mention the benefits for Sokko. Plus, if we go back for a male rogcow, we can keep breeding them for a herd. Maybe that Oz guy can make a pen for them. I was good at taking care of cows back home when I was younger. Eventually, we may not even have to hunt for them. We can raise some for breeding and milk and some for meat.”
“You mean to keep the animals in cages?” Draven asks.
“Well, no. I mean sort of. What you do is build a large pen, so they can walk around and eat. Hmm. There isn’t much green space like there was on the other side of the crevasse. We’ll have to talk to the others about the best way to do it. Maybe we can build the pen in that grassy area and go back and forth.”
Roooooooonk, Eileen bellows as though she agrees with me.
“Plus, if we do that, it’ll give us another opportunity to stay in the caves by the lake. Maybe I’ll even convince you to let me go swimming.”
I don’t have to see his face to know he’s frowning. For being badass vampire aliens, these morts sure are afraid of anything they don’t know or understand. I guess losing everyone you love will make you hesitant of new experiences. I can certainly relate to that.
“We’ll do no such thing until it’s been thoroughly tested,” Draven says.
I roll my eyes at his back. He’d said the same thing the second night we stayed in the cavern with Eileen on our way back through the crevasse. As we tromp through the dusty, windy path, I wish I had convinced him to let me take a little dip. A swim in the gorgeous, clear turquoise water sounds heavenly at this point.
If we weren’t on such a time squeeze getting Eileen here back to Sokko, I would have convinced Draven to stay another day or two to explore. As it is, we’re moving at nearly double the speed, the fastest Eileen will allow, down the tunnel toward the facility. Thankfully, it’s much easier to travel with the forceful wind at our backs. Even with Eileen, we make good time.
By early afternoon, we emerge from Gunteer Channel at the base of the Phyxer Mountains. The last time we’d traveled, it had taken the better part of a day, but I know we’re quickly running out of time. If we hurry, we should make it by full dark. The vast desert stretches out in front of us, seemingly endless, but we have a life to save, and though I couldn’t protect my own child, I will protect Sokko. It’s with the thought of my sweet Willow cradled in my mind that I tug Eileen’s chain and follow Draven out of the mountains and across the desert.
We travel for many hours. Soon, I forget what it’s like to not be moving forward. Eileen ambles alongside me as though she doesn’t have a care in the world. Her loud bellows are lost in the rumbles from the ever-present geostorm clouds and constant thunder.
Thunder that seems to grow louder with each step.
Great. The last thing we need is to be caught in the middle of a storm.
“Are we going to get caught in that?” I ask Draven over the rumble.
“No, my mate. We will be safe inside the facility before any storms hit as long as we keep going.”
The thunder roars.
“Draven? Are you sure?”
A loud mechanical shriek roars over his answer.
“Draven?”
The thunder sounds closer. Like it’s right on top of us. Eileen roooooonks loudly, and instinct has me whirling around.
A large vehicle is almost right on top of us. I shriek and throw myself on top of Eileen who bellows in protest. Draven whirls around at the last second and, spotting the vehicle, lunges to the side to avoid being run over.
The vehicle rocks to a stop. Draven crab-crawls across the stony earth to my side. Eileen tugs at the lead, but I keep my hand tight around the rope.
“Draven? Who is that? Is it one of the other morts?”
But Draven doesn’t answer. He’s already on his feet with his zonnoblaster at the ready, pointed at the driver’s side door. “Open up, and show yourself.”
The door creaks open, and something flies out in our direction. A second later, it explodes. A grenade or a bomb? Oh my God!
“Arrrrrrrghhhhh!” Draven screams, slumping to the ground.
“No!” I shout.
With Eileen bawling madly, I scramble on the ground to where Draven fell, finding him in a silent heap a few feet away. “Please please please please.”
Draven coughs and sits up. “Get behind me,” he orders before bringing his gun up again. To the person—or whatever it is—behind the door, he says, “Come out! Slowly.”
“Is that you, Phalix? I’ve been looking for you.”
Phalix?
Draven shoots to his feet so fast it’s as though one second he’s sitting and the next, he’s standing. A man steps down from the vehicle, one who looks like a mort, like Draven when he’s in the throes of madness, but worse. So, so much worse.
No outer gear. No mask. Just walking about freely, breathing the air like it’s not going to kill him at any second.
“Phalix?” Draven says, the tip of the gun dipping. Then realization dawns. “Lox? You crazy mortarekker. What the rekk do you think you’re doing? How have you survived since you left Sector 1779? And without your zu-gear or rebreathe
r?”
Sector 1779. Where Emery and Calix had encountered that mad mort who’d killed Calix’s father. The mad mort who was now holding a gun at the both of us. When Draven told me about what happened with them, I’d been horrified.
“Never mind that,” Lox says. “The two of you will take me to the facility.”
“You’re not going anywhere near the facility,” Draven growls. “Calix told us what you did. That you tried to kill him and his mate. Stay where you are. If you come any closer, I’ll blast your rekking nog off without another thought. But if you come quietly, I will speak with Breccan to figure out what we can do with you, so no one has to get hurt.”
“You think I care about Breccan? He’s just as bad as Phalix, leaving me on this planet to rot. You don’t give me orders, you do what I say. Or like I did with Calix, I’ll take your pretty little alien mate and leave you for the sabrevipes.” He motions toward us with his gun. “Now you’ll give me the female. She can ride with me while you and the rogcow lead the way to the facility.”
I see the internal struggle on Draven’s face. “It’s fine,” I tell him. “I’ll go with him.”
“The rekk you will,” Draven growls. Crack crack crack. The sub-bones in his neck begin to straighten, and his ears squash against his head.
“We have to get back to the mortling,” I insist, passing Draven Eileen’s lead. I take a step closer to Lox and the vehicle. The only way we’ll get out of this is for me to take myself out of the equation. Draven and the rogcow are the most important things. “I can take care of myself.”
“Enough,” Lox shouts. He snatches me by the arm, and I let him pull me to his side. “She’s coming with me whether you like it or not.”
“No,” comes a new voice, “she’s not.”
Then all hell breaks loose.
Lox grips my arms and positions me in front of him. Two figures emerge from the shadows, and my bones turn to jelly when I recognize Calix and Emery from the other’s descriptions. Emery’s about the size of Eileen, not that I’d tell her that. What the hell was Calix thinking, dragging her out here?
“Calix,” Lox says as though greeting an old friend. “I thought I left you for dead.”
“You wish, old mort,” Calix replies. “Let her go, or we’ll make you let her go. You tried this once already, and you failed. You’ll fail again because our mates are our family, and no one, not even you, will harm them.”
“I was your family!” Lox shouts. “And you left me for dead.”
“We would have rescued you, but you’ve spent too much time on your own. You’ve lost what little sense you had, if any. Let’s work this out, so no one has to get hurt. There are morts counting on us.” Draven takes tentative steps closer.
Lox raises his gun threateningly. “No. You think I care about you when you’ve shown me such disregard?”
Then Eileen is running, but not away from us. She charges toward Lox, who is still shouting, not realizing the rogcow is aiming straight for him. She headbutts him directly in the stomach, causing him to fall in the ground. Her powerful hooves—all freaking eight of them—trample over his emaciated body. I close my eyes at the sound of bones snapping.
When it’s over, I crack my eyelids and find Eileen at the rear of the vehicle, inching her way back toward me, her one red eye blinking solemnly. I lift a hand and say, “Shh, girl. It’s okay. Come here, sweet, brave girl, I’ve got you.”
Calix and Draven crouch over Lox’s still body. Blood leaks from the corner of his mouth, his eyes still wide-open, looking at the sky.
“He’s dead,” Calix announces, his eyes on his very pregnant wife, who visibly relaxes at the news. “We’ll take his body back and give him a proper burial. He may have been mad, but he was a mort.”
They cover him with a blanket from Draven’s pack and load him in the back of Lox’s vehicle. It’s not big enough to transport Eileen, so they tie her to the back. I guess we’ll drive as slow as she can walk. Emery and Calix load up in the vehicle they had repaired from Sector 1779 and drive ahead of us.
“Emery is leaking colostrum. We hope that combined with the rogcow milk, it will satisfy little Sokko. We’ll ride ahead and update the others.”
When we’re alone, Draven turns to me. “Don’t ever do that again,” he says, pulling me into his arms. “My brave, sweet mate. You took the life straight from my heart.”
I squeeze him tight. “Does this mean you’ll let me keep Eileen instead of eating her?” I ask.
14
Draven
“Her name is Eye-lean, and no, you can’t eat her!” Molly gripes, swatting away Hadrian’s hand as he reaches for her rogcow.
Her rogcow.
That’s the absolute truth.
My mate treats that walking, ronking, meaty beast as though it’s her very own mortling. I’m beyond salivating over it because she made me see reason.
We need it for Sokko.
The rogcow ronks and kicks out her hind legs as Theron hoses her down in the large Decontamination Bay. Galen’s already checked her R-Levels, took a sample, and bounded off to the lab with Avrell and Calix. She’s clean, and frankly, edible. But most importantly her milk is safe for them to work on a special formula for the mortling.
“But you say there’s more?” Hadrian probes. “A whole herd?”
The starved glint in his eyes has Molly whacking at him again.
“They’re her family. Go eat some green bunches, and leave her cousins alone!”
Hadrian chuckles, clearly amused at riling my mate up. I give him a fierce glare that has him slinking away to pester someone else.
“We need to see Avrell,” I urge Molly. “He’s expecting us back to check us over.”
She goes back to arguing with Hadrian, and I rub at my temple. When Lox threw the handheld explosive, I’d been knocked on my rump. Hit my nog pretty hard on the ground. Ever since, I’ve been slightly dizzy, and the throbbing is incessant.
“Hey,” Molly coos, suddenly close, both hands sliding to my cheeks. “You don’t look so well. Let’s get out of here. I’ve threatened Hadrian’s life if he so much as dares look at Eye-lean funny.”
I simply nod at her and allow her to guide us out of the Decontamination Bay. We walk down the hall to the medical bay and into Avrell’s lab.
“Ahh, there you are,” Avrell says, giving us a tired smile.
“Check to make sure my mate is safe,” I grumble. “Please.”
Molly shakes her nog. “I’m fine. But you’re not fine. Hop up on that table, and let Doc have a look at you.”
Begrudgingly, I sit on the table before stretching my body out. The lights are bright, and I wince against them. Avrell’s brows furrow as he sets to running a series of tests on me.
“Draven.”
I blink away my daze and find Molly seated on the edge of the table, holding my hand. “Mmm?”
“He said you have a concussion, and you need to stay awake. Come on, big boy,” she says. “Sit up.”
“The dizziness and confusion will come and go,” Avrell says. “I’d like you to stay awake until it’s time for bed. Just so we can make sure nothing strange occurs. But with rest, you should be fine. I’ll give you some ghan-dust tablets.”
“What are ghan-dust tablets?” Molly asks.
“Ghan are rock-like roots found in the underground wells that can be ground to dust and used for certain ailments,” Avrell explains. “Like rekking nog-aches.”
I swallow the ghan-dust tablets dry and shoot Avrell a firm look that says, “My mate. Now.”
Instead of chuckling, per Avrell’s usual demeanor, he simply nods, his lips forming a firm line. Worrying over Sokko is taking its toll on him.
I slide off the table then pick my mate up. She lets out a little squeal until I set her down on the table.
“I’m not hurt,” she says with a huff. “I’m tired and sore, but just fine.”
Avrell bypasses the machines he used to check me over. After a quick
scan to check her R-Levels—which are thankfully not present—he grabs the wegloscan. I tense and lock eyes with him. Hope flutters inside my stomach, not helping my dizziness whatsoever. Molly is completely oblivious to Avrell’s intent.
Please…
Please…
Please…
Days ago, I would’ve laughed if I saw myself standing here silently begging. Now, I’m not laughing. I’m rekking hoping.
Avrell waves the wegloscan over her abdomen, and it beeps. A green light flashes. Both Avrell and I let out a sharp breath.
“What?” Molly demands, her voice shrill.
“Are you certain?” I ask Avrell.
He nods rapidly, a smile stretching across his face. “The wegloscan is one hundred percent accurate. One hundred percent, Draven. This means—”
I wave off his words. “My mate and I need a moment.”
He frowns but acquiesces. “I’m going to peek in on Calix and Galen to see how the formula is coming along. I’ll be back to check on you both.”
As soon as he leaves, Molly regards me with tears welling in her pretty brown eyes. I stroke my claw gently along her jaw.
“When I was locked in a reform cell, I was hopeless, Molly. Everything was so dark and painful and horrifying.” I squeeze my eyes shut, shuddering at the memory. “I barely made it through. The Rades not only ravished my mind and my body, but it shredded my soul.”
A tear leaks out of her eye, and her bottom lip wobbles. “Oh, Draven…”
“But then, hope came in the form of a beautiful alien with a voice of magic,” I tell her, astonishment in my tone. “She stumbled right into my arms. As though she were my gift. A gift I didn’t know I wanted until I realized it’s all I ever wanted.”
She sniffles and swipes away the wetness on her cheeks.