by Corin Cain
They’re taking me to you, I telepath.
I keep my emotions hidden from my aura – something I didn’t consciously know how to do, but which comes to me instinctively. I don’t want to give anything away – not even to my triad.
They probably imagine I’m scared and helpless – but inside, I’m actually aching to surprise the Toads with my newfound strength. They probably view me the same way Lord Oblog does – as a weak, little girl.
Let him. I’ll hide my strength – for now.
But there will be a moment I use it – and that will be the moment Lord Oblog regrets underestimating me.
I rein in my emotions – from the Aurelians, and myself. I can’t let the anger take control of me. True, I hate Lord Oblog – but he uses that hate against me. He knows how to make a man or woman furious, and start acting with emotion rather than information. He knows how to make anyone lose their self-control, and it’s one of his deadliest weapons.
Yes, he can press our buttons like he’s programming us. That brilliant, disgusting bastard has been three steps ahead of us since before I even met him…
…but one day, he will stumble – and I have thousands of years to wait for that moment.
When Lord Oblong finally falls, I’ll be the one standing ready to put a knife in his back.
It takes only five minutes of walking to reach the throne room. The huge doors stand before me, guarded by two of the biggest Bullfrogs I’ve ever seen – their Orb-Axes already activated and humming with malevolent, otherworldly energy – as if the weapons themselves are eager to carve me like a roast Womp.
The Bullfrog guards recognize me. I can see it in their dull eyes that they remember watching me get roughly mated by my triad of Aurelians – but they say nothing.
The Toads guarding me tense, nervous in the presence of the warriors of their race. They step back, offering me to the Bullfrogs like a prize – before disappearing off into the fetid darkness of the ship, glad to be far away.
I know how they feel. I wish I was anywhere, but here.
Through those doors is the bastard himself – Lord Oblog.
He’s the puppet master – and my three magnificent, noble warriors dangling from his strings.
At the same time, I can sense the auras of Quint, Lucius and Marcel – physically now so close to me. I can feel their presence – and that means I’m no longer alone.
The Bullfrogs wordlessly stand aside as the doors open. Even with my Bond-enhanced body, I know this is not my moment to strike. I don’t want to try and take on a single Bullfrog – let alone two of them, and armed with Orb-Axes, no less.
Taking on two startled Toad guards would be one thing. Two Bullfrogs with Orb-Axes is another story. I don’t want to test my muscles against over a thousand pounds of beastly, blubbery muscle.
The doors open, and through them I see my Aurelians.
My heart swells. Even bruised, beat-up, and pissed-off, they’re safe, alive, and mine.
I realize it’s not just the Bond that links me to them – it’s the three of them, all by themselves. I can feel their protectiveness. I can feel their honor. They stare at me, grateful that I’m alive, and I look back with pride.
I’m not smiling – but I feel the warmth of their presence, and I know they can feel it, too.
Lord Oblog looms above them on his throne, right at the top of the stairs. To his right floats the other Toad Finger, Lord Qavar.
I remember his name, and every detail of his hideous face. My mind’s sharper now. Details float up to me effortlessly, when before they’d be lost in the maelstrom of my memories.
The doors shut behind me – but the guards don’t follow me in.
I suddenly realize that there are no Bullfrogs in the throne room – only Sentinels.
Why?
I guess Lord Oblog doesn’t want any organic ears to hear what’s about to happen next. Good.
He’d want his men to witness if he was going to execute us – he’s that kind of egomaniac, eager to demonstrate the power of life and death he wields.
Instead, the cold, dead gaze of the robots bear solitary witness – which I find strangely comforting. Oblog loves to show off his power and he craves a crowd. If only the robots are watching, it means we’re safe.
For now.
Even as the dire nature of our situation weighs down on me, I feel an illicit thrill. I love how my enhanced brain is putting all these things together in a way it couldn’t before. My mind is seeing pieces of a gigantic jigsaw puzzle, and they click together effortlessly. I realize the Bond has honed more than my muscles. It’s sharped my instincts – and those are what’s going to get us off this ship alive.
Even as I scheme, Lord Oblog’s lips stretch wide.
“Welcome, Jamie. So good of you to come.”
I snort. Oblog is cocky in his victory. The more certain he is of success, the more mocking his tone. Right now, it’s dripping with disdain for me – but I don’t care.
My Aurelians do. They stand beneath Lord Oblog, and their anger is a hot, red coal burning in the shared aura of our individual minds.
Don’t let him get to you, I warn the triad. He wants you to snap.
It feels like a strange reversal, to be the one guiding these god-like warriors – but they need me right now. They need the scheming mind that Ling crafted – all that she taught me.
Lucius, for example, is a wildfire. That coal is igniting him, and he’s so close to charging up those stairs and trying to rip Oblog’s throat out that one single word could make him snap.
The Sentinel’s have their guns idly at their sides – and for a terrible moment, part of me wonders if Lucius could actually make it to Oblog before those dead-eyed things turned us all to meat and bones.
But I know he won’t risk it with me here.
My triad is still clad in their traditional Aurelian robes – but the crisp, white linen has been sullied by Toad-scum, their own red blood, and the green slime of the slaughtered Bullfrogs.
They stand with their heads held high, and their chins jutting proudly. No matter what Oblog does to them, they’ll maintain their pride.
I walk to stand in front of them – to join them in their defiance. They loom over me – and I can feel their protectiveness and possessiveness even from across the room. They are my guardian angels, watching over me for eternity – three huge, noble protectors who’ll never stop fighting for me.
But not now. Now, we must be still.
Lord Oblog sneers, turning to the fuming Aurelians.
“I believe your Mate,” Lord Oblog gurgles, emphasizing that last word, “told you about our arrangement.”
He repeats it to prove his point:
“Comply with my demands, and she’ll remain unharmed. I brought her here to show you that she is safe and sound – that I’m not a cruel man, and that my word can be trusted.”
Lord Qavar, sitting next to Oblog in his hovering chair, chuckles wickedly.
“The bitch is in heat – look at her! She’s freshly fucked and yet she already wants them again!”
Heat burns my cheeks. The two Toad Lords are playing with me – but they’ve underestimated me, as they always do.
I look up, and force myself to stare the bastards down.
Oblog licks his lips, as if amused by my defiance.
“No, I think she’s had enough – and, besides, I don’t want to spoil her.” His eyes lock with mine. “Go on, Jamie. I brought you here to say goodbye to your triad – but don’t cry. They’ll be back soon enough, with a fresh shipment for me.”
His lips curl.
“Then, your little friend can go free.”
I clench my fists, grinding my teeth. All four of us – me, Marcel, Lucius, and Quint – are like bubbling volcanos, ready to explode.
Suddenly, Lucius transmits an image into my mind – of him rushing up the stairs and ripping Oblog’s throat out with one hand, while he slams the other fist straight through Qavar’s sharp teeth
.
He’s tense – ready to spring to battle – but Marcel lays his hand gently on Lucius’s arm, steadying him. They briefly make eye-contact, and I feel his fervor cool. He won’t snap – not yet.
I turn to face my three men.
They stand over me protectively, but their faces are blank – like masks. There’s now no joy or wonder at seeing their Fated Mate – only the fear of losing her. I made them both stronger and weaker, all at once.
I know they can’t keep me safe if they’re galaxies away – running Lord Oblog’s errands. Once they’re gone, I’ll have only myself to rely on – certainly not Tessa.
That means I’ll have to be the person I used to be – the old me. I’ll have to be the woman Ling forged, enhanced with the power and strength of the Bond. I need to be the best and most focused version of myself - or I’ll doom us all.
But I’m not her yet. The strength and reassurance of my warrior triad are resurrecting her, but the old me isn’t all the way back yet.
Nevertheless, I whisper:
“I’m going to be okay.”
I try to put confidence in my voice – but I know how useless it is. Marcel, Quint, and Lucius can read the pain and worry in my aura more clearly than I can conceal it in my voice.
My triad doesn’t move. They stare down at me like statues – unflinching, with their auras battle-hardened and ready.
Finally, Marcel speaks.
“We will return. We’ll make the shipment as fast as possible.”
“Don’t draw any extra attention,” I warn them, knowing that the urgency of coming back to their Fated Mate might make them consider extra risks – risks that could put them at odds with the Aurelian Empire.
I know they want to be back with me – because I want the same. For a second, I allow myself to imagine being in their arms again – held tight and safe while the world rages all around us.
But, as long as we’re on this ship, that will never happen. We’ll never be safe.
And what happens after the next shipment?
I know Lord Oblog will never be satisfied – not with this shipment, or a thousand more. As long as he has me captive, he’ll keep the Aurelians running his sinister errands; and I know there’s nothing they’ll do if it means placing me in danger.
I’m considering this, when Marcel does something that utterly shocks me.
He leans forward and hugs me tightly.
“Aww,” comes the mocking gurgle of Lorb Oblog, calling over my shoulder. “Look how sweet they are. They are sweet, aren’t they, Qavar?”
“Touching,” answers the second Finger, emitting with a warbling laugh.
Quint hugs me next. His huge, muscular arms close around me, and his aura melts into mine. His solid bulk and warm intensity steady me.
As we hug, Lucius stares at me. Once, he’d had the same slate-grey gaze as all Aurelians. Now, his brown eyes stare back at me – flecked with red.
They’ve changed because of me. I’ve marked him for life. I marked him for eternity.
I have something for you, Lucius telepaths to me. Something that can keep you safe.
His words crash into my mind, and as I hear them, he hugs me harder – lifting me up into the air. I sink into his embrace, melting into it – wishing the moment would never end.
But when Lucius finally puts me down, it’s curiosity I feel, not regret.
I feel something cold in my palm – and I tighten my hand around it instinctively, resisting the urge to look at it, tucking it into the pockets of my pants before anyone sees…
“Come here.”
…but I was too late.
Lord Oblog’s voice is cold and commanding – different to his usual mockery.
I instantly tense up. Whatever Lucius just put in my hand, I sense that Oblog saw. He’s already tortured me with electric shocks – I’m terrified of what he’d come up with to punish me for this infraction.
Making matters worse, Lucius’s calm aura instantly shatters with stress the moment he hears Oblog’s words – confirming my fears. Before Lucius can get control of it, he shares his horror with me – and while that emotion is only out of his control for an instant, the emotion is contagious – infecting my mind.
Do as he says. Regaining self-control, Lucius telepaths to me. I won’t let him hurt you.
I know Lucius is trying to calm me with his thoughts, but that momentary flash of panic revealed that he’s just as scared as I am.
Practically trembling, I turn to face Oblog – my breathing quick and ragged, and panic rising in my chest.
Calm before battle.
It’s Marcel’s voice in my head – his aura hard and ready for war.
I know whatever happens, he’s at my back. It bolsters me. I gulp, stepping up the stairs slowly, heading toward Lord Oblog with my head held high.
Each step is more difficult than the last. It’s like I’m walking through molasses. The thing Lucius placed in my palm is burning a hole through my skin. Whatever it is, I slip it into the pocket of my pants as I climb the steps.
Behind me, all three of the Aurelians’ auras are intensely focused – and I sense that they’re each ready to dive forward, up the stairs, if they think Lord Oblog has any intentions of hurting me.
I stare up at the grotesque creature as I approach him, and Lord Oblog stares down at me with disdain. The closer I get, the more I see how his flesh glistens in the light. A fly lands on his forehead – but unlike last time, he doesn’t even seem to notice it. He remains fixated on me – watching intently as I take the steps one-by-one, my dread growing with every step.
As I reach the top of the stairs, he demands:
“Put out your hand.”
His voice is a cold command without gloating.
My hand is in my pocket. The object is clenched tightly in my fist. I gulp, and pull my hand from my pants – but the moment I do so, I see Lord Oblog reaching into the folds of his loincloth.
Suddenly, the vivid image of him drawing a knife and slicing off my hand as I offer it up to him fills my mind. I see a vision of the punishment he plans to enact – filling my mind so vividly that it transmits to my triad.
The moment I do, Lucius snaps.
He rushes forward, charging up the stairs. I turn in horror, watching as the Sentinels raise their deadly weapons toward him…
13
Thunder. The Sentinel gunfire rings out.
The Sentinels fire deadly blasts toward Lucius, each one aimed with coldly murderous intent. Quint and Marcel move just a heartbeat after Lucius, rushing the same steps – following their battle-brother toward me.
I gasp. I know the Bond has enhanced my strength and speed, but not nearly to the same degree as it has enhanced the prowess of my warrior triad.
Lucius’s body moves like quicksilver – faster than any un-enhanced eye could track.
Faster, even, than the tracking servos of the Sentinels.
Like magic, he weaves through the blasts, dodging and dipping through them as if the deadly projectiles are moving in slow motion. For a moment, I dare to think he’ll make it to me…
…and then I feel the cold steel at my throat.
“Stop!”
Lord Oblog’s voice is sharp and inarguable. Lucius freezes the moment he sees the knife at my throat.
That’s when two blasts impact him right in the center of his huge chest.
I scream.
Lucius’s aura instantly winks out of my mind.
My world disintegrates as he falls to his knees, and then flops lifelessly forward.
“No!”
“Shut up!” Oblog’s voice suddenly cuts through my panic. “He’s only stunned, you mewling whelp!”
He punctuates that statement by pressing the blade of his knife deeper into my skin. I freeze.
The Sentinels are armed with deadly slug weapons – the same ones humans have been killing each other with for millennia – but it wasn’t supersonic lead that impacted with Lucius’s
chest. I remember the blasts of energy – and realize that the Sentinels must have been programmed to disable the Aurelians; not kill them.
As if reading my mind, Oblog nods.
“You’d think I’d slaughter my golden geese, Jamie? I told you – I’m a businessman.”
His bulbous eyes then turn to Marcel and Quint – frozen half-way up the stairs.
“Take a fucking step back!” Lord Oblog orders – and they obey instantly, their eyes never moving from the sight of the knife at my throat.
Only when they’ve retreated to a safe distance does Lord Oblog pull the blade from my neck.
“Good – no more foolishness, I hope.”
Then, licking his blubbery lips, Oblog demands:
“Turn around, Jamie – and put out your fucking hand!”
Beside him, Lord Qavar snorts.
“You’re still fast with a knife, Oblog.” The second Toad Lord is amused. “I suppose with the enemies you make, you have to be.”
Qavar speaks as if in jest – but beneath the illusion of amusement is a hard line of worry. He clearly doesn’t like being in the same room as these three Aurelians any longer. The Sentinels no longer reassure him. Oh, sure – they could slaughter the Aurelians…
…but perhaps not before the Aurelians have slaughtered him.
Lord Oblog ignores the other Toad Lord, though. He’s quivering, and I can taste the scent of the adrenaline pulsing through his veins.
Lord Oblog is shocked that Lucius made it so close to him. The Sentinels should have cut him down in less than a second. No mortal man could have dodged those shots.
But Lucius is no longer a mortal man – or Aurelian.
Oblog understands now that the Bond does more than just link us telepathically.
He understands now just how powerful Bonded Aurelians are.
But Lord Oblog is a careful man – you don’t make it to the rank of Lord in Toad society without being so. With one flick of his wrist, he knows he could open up my artery, and send my life blood spurting across the room. He could gut me like a fish, and then push me down the stairs. I’d bleed out in the arms of my Aurelians – and they’d be powerless to do anything except watch me die.