Suburban Cyborg

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Suburban Cyborg Page 106

by Gloria Martin


  “STOP! Stop at ONCE!” demanded the King. He got off his golden throne, walked down the main aisle of the theatre, and hopped right onto the stage. “You wicked, wretched little siren! How dare you terrorize my people in this way!” He unsheathed a long, glinting blade from beneath his silken robes, ready to slay her, without any further questions. Arielle stood frozen in tremendous fear; her life was flashing right before her eyes as her dreams, too, were about to be sliced in half. More of the others screamed and ran out, not wanting to witness the gory horror.

  Zefelli leapt in front of Arielle to protect her from his own father. “Stay away from her, Father,” he sneered, baring his dragon fangs in both fear and anger.

  “No! This human is a witch! She is cursed, and must be banished from Ansuul – at once!” his father bellowed, with his sword still held in swinging position.

  Aadall now fell to Zefelli and Arielle’s aid. “Your majesty, if only you could understand that Arielle has a special gift, meant to bring harmony to us – not harm. She means to bring us all LOVE!” Aadall pleaded.

  The king gasped in utter shock, with his heavy sword still ready to strike, wondering if Arielle had poisoned the minds of the two, and that they too, needed to be exterminated as well. But, the King hesitated, feeling unnerved and haunted as the three looked up at him, pleadingly. Perhaps Arielle had managed to tap into the King’s inner empathy, at least enough to keep him from murdering the three.

  He quickly threw the sword to the side, where it hit a marble column; and shattered into shards of broken metal. He said, “Then you, my boys, are TRAITORS. Go and frolic with this nasty seductress, and you, too, will be banished from Ansuul. FOREVER.”

  Zefelli actually felt relieved. He said, “Maybe I don’t want to be here anymore, anyway!”

  His father’s face reddened with fury and secret hurt, stopping to stare his son in the eyes. “Then, LEAVE!”

  Zefelli looked back at his father one last time, realizing this was the last time he would ever see his family, and all that he had ever known. But, Zefelli wanted a change. He was not happy. In fact, had he ever been happy in this kingdom of cruelty? Aadall and Zefelli guarded Arielle until the King turned away with no more words to say, but had shaped into his own majestic dragon form in his sheer fit of anger, blasting away bits of the sturdy columns in his path of fury.

  As stone and marble crumbled and began to fall from the monumental structure and fires broke out, Zefelli and Aadall quickly shifted themselves, guarding Arielle beneath their mighty spread wings, before escaping Ansuul. Behind them, the palace theater had erupted into a scene of terror, panicked screams, and fire. The blaze spread to all of Ansuul as the King raged.

  Aadall quickly informed telepathically Zefelli that he had another plan and would be back. Zefelli carried Arielle back to the cave in the Outlands; the one, refuge left between the two breaking worlds. Arielle clung to Zefelli’s shiny, black mane, closing her eyes and trying to calm herself in the silent bi-atmosphere, with only the comforting sound of Zefelli’s swooping wings to be heard. She knew they were both still in shock, and relieved to be away from the terror in Ansuul.

  The woods surrounding the forbidden forest and cliffs were eerily quiet. But, nearby shouting from town echoed in the valleys, letting Zefelli and Arielle know they were still in grave danger. Zefelli assured Arielle that Aadall, always the more logical one and quick thinker, had a plan and promised to return to them as soon as he could. But nonetheless, Arielle had begun to sob, feeling defeated as she sat alone in the darkness at the back of the cave, while Zefelli had been standing near the entrance, on the lookout. Upon hearing her sudden deep and desperate sobs, he immediately went to her, hugging her and trying to calm her, but she was terribly shaken, as reality began to finally sink in.

  “I am a terrorist, by Ansuul’s standards; the cause of the King’s anger. In Denbyshire, I am considered a missing victim. But, please know this, Zefelli. I could not ever deny my love for you or Aadall. Just take me down to the valley, right now, and I will just run and tell them what has really happened!”

  Zefelli looked at her sadly. “Arielle, no. They won’t believe you or try to understand; they are too angry. Besides, we would never be able to see you again. And it would leave you behind to a life of enslavement from the Dragonruu. I do not even want to think about what they would do to you now for punishment. Too, you would be outcast forever from Denbyshire, and disowned by your own family...You don’t deserve that, and I am never leaving you...” He held her beautiful, pouting face in his strong hands. Her bottom lip wavered, and tear drops continue to spill down her cheeks.

  “What is it, that brought us three together, Arielle? The yearning for CHANGE. The yearning for ACCEPTANCE, among ALL. The yearning to know how to LOVE. And it was your beautiful voice that brought us all together. It has proven that you are as powerful as the Dragonruu. We three may be the only ones in this messed up universe that are such radical thinkers. But, we are pioneers in this effort for a better world, and damn it – we’re going to go find a better world!”

  Arielle sobbed gratefully with relief into Zefelli’s strong shoulder as he slowly rubbed her back, thinking about how wonderful Arielle truly was, and how he would never regret their dangerous adventure together. The sun was beginning to set, and the two had fallen into a weary sleep, still holding each other.

  All of the sudden, a huge rumbling overhead awoke them with a start. Aadall signaled with a roar that it was him. Aadall quickly flew in, shifting and panting. “I forced the fairies currently in Ansuul to steal a ship for us from Azure Harbor. I threatened to smash and obliterate them into oozing piles of goo they could not ever resurrect from. I simply told them that I would collect them into a container, and release their slime into the pool next to us. Sinking to the bottom, they would emit healing powers from their remains, and finally be at peace. I told them they were traitors to Arielle and all humankind. The wicked and conniving fairies were not phased by my accusation, but only by my threat of putting them to final rest.”

  Aadall finally took in a breath, trying to calm down. “Perhaps we, too, can be seen as traitors to our two cities, but you know what? Then, we do not belong here. So, we must hurry. Rumors and bullets are both flying: The humans are angry at the Dragonruu for allowing Arielle’s unauthorized escape to Ansuul to promote her talent. The Dragonruu are angry at the humans, suspecting them of trying to overthrow the King’s rule with some type of witchcraft from Arielle’s performance. Look, we tried to make a difference for the better, but these two ancient worlds are doomed. Let us go now, in peace.”

  Zefelli felt proud of the new and heroic attitude that Arielle had brought out of Aadall. He and Arielle somberly nodded in agreement that it was indeed time to go.

  The dragons quickly helped swoop her into a large spacecraft that Aadall had docked onto the massive cliff top overhead. It was as large as a cruise ship. Once aboard, Aadall and Zefelli frantically worked the control panels in preparation for final launch. A few minutes later, an explosive takeoff took the ship far out of the atmosphere. Arielle looked back one last time at the two cities, now both far below, where smoke and fires were seen rising from each.

  Once they were at cruising altitude, sailing over planets with new horizons, where beautiful glowing sunsets with shooting stars blazed over peaceful clear skies, and lush, green islands with crystal pink sand shimmered at them welcomingly, Arielle felt her bravery and strength being renewed.

  She began to hum a melody, and the three embraced in relief. She guided her two lovers’ faces against her ample breasts, feeling overwhelming relief and desire be exchanged between the three of them.

  “We are going to be leaders of a free world, and that means we can start a family of our own, that shares traits of both of our races...” she stated calmly, and a bit seductively.

  “Yes...,” Zefelli said with his warm mouth muffled against her chest. “Let’s start right now.”

  Aadall moaned hi
s agreement, as he helped delicately position Arielle over the guardrail in front of him, that gave a lovely view out their balcony of three moons suspended over a shimmering jade and purple sky. Arielle began to receive Aadall and then Zefelli, in turns of sheer, shared bliss, as they all whispered chants of their love for one another through breathy kisses and slow thrusts, as their ship sailed peacefully onwards towards a new destination to land upon, and call their very own.

  THE END

  Bonus Story 33/40

  Out of Bounds

  A notification flashed on Skye’s phone, telling her she was invited to a school reunion at the end of the year. “Come and see how everyone is doing ten years on...” read the message.

  Great, thought Skye sarcastically. Unmarried, no children, and about to take my clothes off in a bar full of men just to pay the rent. She cringed as she imagined all the ex-classmates that would end up at the reunion; boasting about their careers and rich husbands. The joy mixed with pity on their faces as they asked: “So Skye, what are you up to these days?”

  She pushed it out of her mind, and concentrated on the job at hand. Peeking out through a tiny gap in the stage curtain, she could make out the sea of eyes waiting for her to step out on stage. Hungry male eyes.

  With a deep breath and silent prayer, Skye stepped through the curtains and onto the stage. Her black, strappy monokini left little to the imagination, and she felt exposed. But Skye knew how to fake confidence, and to the feverish audience, she looked like an Amazonian goddess with her tall frame and long black hair.

  Although it was a far cry from any career she’d envisaged for herself, she knew it played to her biggest strength: her ability to read men. And as she moved across the stage, it wasn’t difficult to see why Skye Wilder had become the star attraction at this bar.

  Skye knew that many of the men here weren’t bad people. Some of the regulars, such as Joe, a computer programmer on a six-figure salary, were just men with high-pressure day jobs looking for release.

  Except something was different tonight. As Skye looked out over the jeering crowd, banging their beer glasses and groping her legs, she knew something had changed. This was not what she wanted for herself.

  Without a word uttered, Skye grabbed the few clothes she’d shed, and left the stage.

  Ten minutes later, Skye’s aunt, Margo was waiting for her in the parking lot. Skye got into the passenger seat of Margo’s car, and the two women sat there for a while as she caught her breath.

  “What did your boss say?”

  “He was furious!” said Skye, shaking her head and trying to find the levity in the situation. The truth was she didn’t take pleasure in letting people down–and she’d never quit a job in her life.

  Margo gave Skye a reassuring look in the way only she seemed capable of giving. Growing up with two alcoholic and self-destructive parents, Skye always felt grateful to have one stable figure in her life: her aunt, Margo. Almost forty years older than Skye with a hefty build and strong jaw, Margo was a big, imposing woman. Yet despite that, there was something gentle about her face–a protective quality, which seemed to radiate from her.

  “There’s just one problem now of course,” began Skye. “I’m jobless.”

  Margo laughed warmly. “Well, that would be a problem!” she admitted. “Although, I do have a secretarial role to fill for one of my clients across town. At that new golf resort which opened up recently.”

  “Secretarial? I don’t know the first thing about being a secretary!” said Skye.

  “I need someone I can rely on. Someone who won’t let me down. And you fit that bill, don’t you?”

  Skye smiled at how Margo posed the question. It was so hard to win an argument with her.

  “One of your clients? Doesn’t that mean they’ll be super sophisticated?”

  Margo ran an agency that provided specialist staff to big businesses around town.

  “As sophisticated as they come. This one is Cace Arrington. He’s the leisure tycoon, who took over his family’s business. They own hotels and resorts all over the world. Have you heard of him?”

  Skye shook her head. She couldn’t say she followed the lives of high-flying executives.

  “I don’t speak their language, Margo,” Skye protested. To Skye, it seemed like the conversations of the wealthy always revolved around wines and investments and other things she knew little about.

  “You speak to people, Skye. And that’s what you’ll need to do well on this job. I’ll send a cab to pick you up next week.”

  *****

  Arrington Woodlands was a sprawling, luxury golf resort in the countryside. From the back of the cab, Skye struggled to see where the boundaries of the golf courses ended; the landscape seemed to roll on for miles.

  She was wearing the smartest white blouse she owned, and had applied just a touch of make-up to her face.

  Prior to taking on the assignment, Skye had been required to sign what felt like an endless array of non-disclosure and confidentiality agreements. Margo had told her that the Arrington company was being extra-careful at this time as it was under investigation. Local residents had been complaining of ‘scare tactics’…arson attacks at night, poisoning livestock…all designed to scare these residents into selling their houses. Rumor was that these actions were being sanctioned by the Arrington company itself, which wanted the nearby land to expand the golf resort. It was even said that approval for these acts was coming from the very top of the company. Skye wondered what kind of man that made Cace Arrington. I guess I’ll find out soon enough, she thought.

  Dee, the friendly doorman at the entrance of hotel, couldn’t hide his delight as Skye stepped out of the cab. He had seen little of interest all day, and even in her simple blouse, Skye had a natural beauty that resonated with men. He helped her with her bags, and directed her into the lobby, where she was to ask for ‘Head of Staff, Petra Runington.’

  What Margo had only told Skye about this secretarial role, much later on, was that it would be for approximately three weeks–as the club prepared for the grand opening of a special golf tournament to be hosted at the resort. During those three weeks, Skye would be required to reside at the hotel so that she could be ‘on-call’ for any urgent assistance.

  The inside lobby of the hotel reminded Skye of a hunting lodge with its mahogany walls, leather couches and fireplace. To the back of the lobby was an impressive bar area with seating. A man and woman were the only other people in the lobby; both wearing suits and both chatting noisily to one another. The woman was in her fifties with shoulder length blonde-hair, whilst the man, similar in age, was tall with thinning brown hair. The woman had a tendency to burst into a loud, throaty laugh every time the man said something she found amusing.

  The woman glanced over at Skye, and as though to apologize for the noise, said, “Lawyer talk!”

  Skye fidgeted uncomfortably in the lobby, feeling more and more out-of-place with every passing second.

  Suddenly from the top of the lobby’s staircase, came an attractive woman only a few years older than Skye. She walked with the poise of someone who had been privately-educated, and wore the hair of someone that could afford an expensive salon.

  “Hi. I’m Petra,” she announced, almost pushing past Skye to get to the man and woman. “It’s an absolute pleasure. My colleague down the hallway will show you to the conference room!”

  As the man and woman headed off to the conference room, the woman who’d identified herself as Petra turned to face Skye.

  “Hi, I’m Skye. The new secretary,” said Skye offering her hand to shake.

  Petra immediately took Skye by the arm and pulled her to one side.

  “Yes, Skylar. I need to just pick you up on something straight away. Those two people were Margaret Landry and Paul Kingsley, two of the most esteemed criminal attorneys in the country. I would have hoped you’d have taken your luggage directly to your room before clocking in with me as it doesn’t look great for our staff-
members to be loitering around in the lobby with their suitcases. Especially with all the bad press that seasonal workers get these days. I hope you can understand?”

  Before Skye could respond, she continued, “I know you’re not going to be with us for very long but here at Arrington we do expect that level of attention to detail. Now Mr. Arrington is about to begin a conference with his lawyers so if you could drop your things to your room, I’ll need you down in the conference room in five minutes to take notes.”

  With that, Petra turned on a heel and walked off. Welcome to Arrington Woodlands, thought Skye. What a place.

  *****

  Adjusting her blouse to look presentable, Skye turned the golden handle that opened the door to the conference room.

  Inside, the two attorneys from the lobby, Margaret and Peter were huddled with Cace Arrington around a small television set. There was a form of grainy CCTV playing on the screen.

  On the other side of the conference room, Petra was barking orders at staff members as they laid out refreshments. Where Skye came from, refreshments meant donuts and potato chips. Here, refreshments meant gastronomical snacks served on little spoons, and brightly-colored macarons.

  The food, however, was not what caught Skye’s attention. What caught her attention was Cace Arrington. When she’d heard her new boss was a leisure tycoon, she’d automatically assumed he’d be a round-bellied, middle-aged man. He was not.

  In his late thirties, Cace was a good-looking man, with piercing green eyes and a wave of short brown hair, combed back. He had a strong jaw covered in stubble and there was, Skye noticed, a little dimple in his chin.

 

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