The four of them had just walked up the stairs to sit beneath a wooden pavilion on one end of the gardens. Now Trazen and Jet sat directly opposite of Anslom and Tyra, with a stone table filling the space between them.
The pavilion sat at the bottom of a hill, surrounded by trees on all sides but one, where a lake lapped close to the stone steps.
Above, a waterfall cascaded down, too symmetrical to be anything but Nirreth or man-made. Watching the falling sheets of water, Jet had a strange feeling of déjà vu.
She remembered her first meeting with Anaze behind the Trevi Fountain on the compound of the Royals, when he told her who he really was.
Here, too, the sound of gushing and roiling water filled the ambient space, making it difficult to think.
Distracted now by Trazen and whatever was going on with Tyra and Anslom, Jet barely glanced at the fountain other than to note it would be difficult to climb, if they needed to get out of there in a hurry. Each level was made of wide, steppe-like stone flats and seemed to be cut into the mountain itself.
Those steppes were steep, and looked slippery from moss and spray.
So, yeah… difficult to climb.
She had another flicker of realization that this wasn’t her home.
She didn’t belong here.
She belonged in the north, where the water flowed more freely, where oceans stretched to the west and the north, where the monsoon turned everything green and black with plant life and mold, where the only water didn’t come from Nirreth-made fountains and lakes.
Jet knew the land up there. She knew the trees.
She knew how to get out of places if she needed to.
She didn’t belong here.
She finished arranging her seat and looked up, only to find Trazen staring at her again.
The look in his dark eyes made her wonder if he’d heard her somehow.
But that was impossible. He wasn’t even touching her.
Even if he had been touching her, there was no possible way the venom from her training would still be in her system.
Even as she thought it, he wound his tail around her waist.
She flinched slightly when he pulled her closer, the feeling behind the gesture less of a question than insistence. She didn’t protest, but felt her expression harden briefly before she forced herself to relax.
“You should have stung me,” she muttered to him, once she was close enough.
He gave her a sideways look when she glanced up.
“Not with you wearing that,” he said, smiling faintly.
She snorted, rolling her eyes.
She felt the barest edge of a peace offering in his words, but couldn’t say she really understood how he’d meant them. Was he flirting with her to appease her in some way? Did he really think she was jealous?
Feeling her jaw harden, she clenched her hands on the tops of her thighs.
Hell, maybe she was jealous.
His tail tightened around her, pulling her closer.
“I’ll sting you now, if you want,” he said, his voice a murmur against her ear. “Maybe I should. I’m a little tired of this sparring match.”
“Fine,” she murmured back out of the side of her mouth. She looked up, staring at him unflinchingly. “Go ahead. Sting me.”
He tensed, not looking away from her eyes.
Before he could answer, Tyra spoke up from the other side of the table, speaking louder to be heard over the gushing fountain.
“Stop flirting, you two,” she said, grinning.
Trazen turned, his expression noticeably hardening.
“Why are we here?” he said. “Jet said something about modifying the challenge match?”
Tyra grinned, winking at him.
“All business, are you, Ringmaster?” she said.
Jet saw Trazen look over Tyra’s face, then glance at Anslom.
It struck her that they’d all been speaking English, and that the choice in language probably hadn’t been an accident.
“Why are we here?” Trazen said again.
Jet felt his tail tighten around her, squeezing her where she sat. She almost wondered if he would sting her, or if he was thinking about it. She could almost feel his indecision through the bare skin of his tail where it pressed against her arm.
That time, Anslom answered him instead of Tyra.
The other male Nirreth slung an arm around the back of the stone bench where he and Tyra sat, flicking his tail sideways through the opening between the backrest and the bench’s seat.
“We know who you are, Trazen,” Anslom said.
Jet couldn’t help noticing that Anslom spoke English with a near-perfect skag accent. He could have been from the pits in Vancouver BC.
“…We also know who you really work for,” Anslom said.
Trazen gave him an amused smile.
Even so, Jet felt a perceptible tightening of his tail.
“That’s hardly a secret, friend,” Trazen said.
“I don’t mean the Rings Board,” Anslom said. His dark blue eyes held a denser meaning as he glanced at Jet, then back at Trazen. His narrow mouth hardened. “I don’t mean First Son Laksri, either, who we know you and Jet met with recently.”
Next to her, Trazen tensed more.
Jet felt herself tense too, although if it was due to Anslom’s words or Trazen’s squeezing her around the middle with his tail, it was a toss-up.
“We have people in that part of town, Ringmaster,” Anslom added. “You were spotted. All three of you. Your friend, ‘Montan,’ didn’t do as well as you’d hoped, covering his tracks. We were able to determine that he’s still working with Richter in some way, too.”
At that, Jet felt her own muscles tense.
Before she could decide whether to speak, Trazen pressed the end of his tail to the top of her thigh, revealed by the dress. Without warning, the barb shot out. He stung her, pressing enough venom into her that Jet had trouble keeping it off her face.
She could tell he wanted her to keep it off her face, which is the only reason she tried.
Even so, it hurt like hell getting stung in the leg, through muscle instead of softer flesh.
Once the venom hit her system, her mind flashed into a sharper clarity.
So did his.
Jet, we might be in trouble, Trazen thought at her at once.
Jet shot thoughts back at him, equally fast. Who do you work for? Who does he mean?
She felt hesitation on him.
Then he seemed to make up his mind.
The Shinkara, he thought at her. I work for the Shinkara.
Jet’s mind lurched into confusion.
The Shinkara?
That holy sect among the Nirreth? That same sect that formed the storyline for Anaze’s Retribution? The Shinkara supposedly commanded the Royals themselves.
Some Nirreth believed they ran everything from behind the scenes.
Trazen couldn’t possibly have surprised her more if he’d said he worked for the Holy Eagle Church up in White Horse back home.
The Shinkara don’t run things, he corrected her. They evaluate. Monitor. Shift the broader historical direction of the Nirreth in small steps. But only on occasion and only when absolutely necessary. I’m just a foot soldier, Jet. I work for them. I follow orders.
He hesitated, and she felt his awareness of Tyra and Anslom.
We should not talk about this here. Now is not a good time for me to explain this. I just wanted you to know I don’t work for either prince. I don’t work for Richter, either.
Jet didn’t answer.
Trazen’s hand wrapped around her thigh, pulling her nearer to him.
We might have to fight our way out of here, he thought at her. If they really do know who I am, then neither of us is safe––
I understand.
Do you? If they work for Isreti, they will want to use me to legitimize this war against humans and any factions among the Nirreth they deem “disloyal.” It is a purist movement they want. A re
turn to the old ways, the old laws. Humans as food. Humans solely as slaves. They wish similar fates for the other colonized races, and even the lower clans of Nirreth. They would have your history erased, all talk of assimilation outlawed…
Trazen’s thoughts grew more grim.
They will have you and I stung, Jet. We will be kept in a cell. They will try to use both of us to say the Shinkara are in favor of this… that enlightened humans want it, too.
Jet thought about this, frowning. They won’t intervene? The Shinkara, I mean. They wouldn’t come for you, if you got caught like that?
Trazen hesitated. That is… complicated. They would. They would intervene. But I cannot predict in what ways. They must think of the broader picture, Jet. You and I would factor in as a part of that, but we would only be a detail.
Jet was about to ask him more, but his thoughts cut her off.
We cannot talk about this now, Jet. Not here.
Turning that over, Jet felt herself agree.
She focused back on Anslom, right before she glanced at Tyra. Seeing the narrow look in the muscular woman’s eyes as she assessed her and Trazen, Jet found herself thinking Trazen was right. This wasn’t the time to grill him about this.
I’m sorry I could not tell you before, Trazen sent. I am sorry, Jet.
She felt a flicker of heat from him, a more complex array of emotions. For the first time, she found herself noticing the other effects of the venom.
What do they want from us? she asked him. Now, I mean. Do they intend to kidnap us?
I don’t know–– he began.
“––We know you work for the Shinkara, Trazen,” Anslom said carefully.
Next to Jet, Trazen tensed for real.
Not in alarm.
They were past that now, Jet realized.
Trazen’s muscles bunched up, as if he was gearing for a fight.
Every muscle in his long body clenched in those few seconds, until Jet could almost envision his next move. In her mind she saw him leap over the table at the other male, knocking him to the ground so they could both run away.
Trazen didn’t loosen his tail or hand around Jet’s waist or thigh, though, and before she could make up her mind about that, Trazen stung her in the leg a second time.
As the venom let go, she let out an involuntary gasp.
When it hit her blood stream, her mind grew crystal clear.
Diamond clear. Even clearer than before.
She gave you something, Trazen said. Something in your drink. I can feel it.
Jet’s mind wrapped around that, examined it.
He was right. Even now, her thoughts were a little… off. Jet hadn’t noticed the fogginess until it began to clear in the seconds following Trazen’s first sting. The difference crept over her so subtly she hadn’t known anything was wrong.
Will it slow you down? he said.
Maybe, Jet said. Where do we go?
She felt him thinking about that, assessing the waterfall the same way Jet had done. His mind showed her what he’d already looked at with the fence around the estate’s grounds. Jet didn’t fully get the mechanism there, but she got that the fence was electric, although it had been shut off when Trazen first looked at it.
They couldn’t assume it would stay shut off, though.
Anslom and Tyra and whoever they worked for might have air transport.
It might be why they’d brought them up to the mountains.
They likely have others with them, he told her, thinking at her with more direction again. They must have others, Jet. Someone gave me a drink too. They gave you the drug to slow down your reactions. They would not think they could take me with only one…
Jet felt her muscles tense, bunching up like Trazen’s.
She knew her and Trazen’s postures fed off one another, amplifying one another.
We’ll risk the waterfall, he told her. There’s another road up there. I can help you––
“Calm down!” Tyra said, sharp, causing Jet to turn. “Both of you! Right now! Calm down and don’t freak out until we finish!”
Jet turned, staring at her.
From beside her, she felt Trazen do the same.
Tyra held up a hand, her voice and eyes an open warning, but also holding something like fear, mixed with a deliberate reassurance. She motioned both of them down, as if Jet and Trazen were standing and she wanted them to sit, though neither Trazen nor Jet had moved from their spots on the bench.
“We don’t want you dead,” she added quickly. “We don’t plan to kidnap you, either. We don’t work for the First Son, okay? Either of them.” Her smile widened slightly, growing more shrewd. “Quite the contrary.”
“Meaning what?” Trazen said, his voice a low growl.
“Meaning, we’re allies,” Tyra said coolly, meeting his gaze. She looked back at Jet, as if still trying to measure her response. “We want to talk about this fight you have coming up with Bukka…”
“What about it?” Jet said.
Her voice came out aggressive, sharp.
Tyra’s eyes flickered from Trazen’s face to hers.
She frowned, glancing at Anslom. “I thought you were going to have them drugged? So they’d be calm for this?”
Anslom shrugged, his tail making a warier arc as he watched Trazen.
“I did have them drugged, companion,” he said calmly.
He motioned at Trazen.
“He is stinging her… repeatedly, from her eyes… and from how heated he is getting. It is off-setting the effects of the drug. For both of them.”
At Tyra’s frown, Anslom lashed his tail.
“You said you did not want them to be impaired. Just calm. So I did not give them much. Not enough for what he is doing now.”
Jet watched the two of them warily, studying their eyes.
Could they be telling the truth? she asked Trazen.
I don’t know.
But what do you think? she thought at him, exasperated.
“––We have something we want you to do for us, Jet,” Tyra said, jerking Jet’s eyes back to hers. Tyra pressed her palms to the stone table, then surprised Jet by chuckling.
“Well,” she said wryly, glancing over her shoulder towards the fountain as someone walked out from behind the rocks.
“…He does, really. He has something he wants you to do for us.”
Jet stared at the figure approaching through the dark.
She frowned before she’d even made sense of his face, watching his familiar steps as he walked towards them out of the cluster of trees and rocks by the edge of the lake.
As he walked up the steps of the pavilion, his grav-boots creaked on each plank, even as the gold streak in his hair caught the lamp-light that illuminated the snaking path that led up the hill towards the main house.
Meeting Jet’s gaze with his coffee-colored eyes, he smiled.
“Hello, kitten,” Richter said. “Miss me?”
12
The Devil
Jet didn’t think.
She was on her feet, leaping up from the bench and darting around the stone table before Trazen could pull her back.
She moved fast enough, she managed to startle Trazen, causing him to release her probably more in shock than because he’d made the decision.
That, or maybe her emotions hit at his, too.
Or maybe she’d pushed him to let her go, using the venom in the other direction.
Either way, the surge of fury that rose in her made the emotional reaction she’d had when she’d first seen Laksri seem like nothing.
Richter had her family.
He had her mother. He had her brother, Biggs.
He’d killed Laksri.
He pretended to kill him anyway, even if he hadn’t succeeded. He’d been the real reason Jet got taken prisoner on Astet. He left her behind, taking Anaze and Laks to safety and ignoring her. He’d left her there––knowing full well what would happen to her.
He’d left her, k
nowing full well that she’d probably die.
He’d lied to her. He’d lied to her about…
Well, everything.
He’d used her. Manipulated her.
He was her own race, and he’d done all of those things.
She didn’t think, swinging a fist at him as soon as she was near enough.
He moved, fast. Not as if he was expecting it, more like someone trained to fight moves in reflex to evade a blow. He ducked and wove, then came back at her like a boxer with a hard jab with his left fist, hitting her smack in the middle of her sternum and cutting her breath. He didn’t wait but followed with a cross that caught her in the jaw.
Jet had forgotten she was wearing heels.
She also forgot she was still pretty beat up from her one and only Rings match in the past several months… and out of shape, at least when it came to fighting someone who knew what they were doing. Someone hungry. Someone who could survive in the skag pits, like her.
It shouldn’t have escaped her mind for even a second that Richter would be able to fight, and fight well… but somehow, in the heat of her fury, it had escaped her.
She found herself kneeling on the wooden floor of the pavilion, gasping, the wind knocked out of her, her jaw aching from the cross and jab to either side of her jaw.
She hadn’t fully gotten her wind back when he kicked her in the gut, too, making her gasp. When she glared up at him, about to lurch to her feet, he snarled at her, one hand held out forcefully in front of him.
“Stay down, goddamn it!”
He was panting, staring at her with angry eyes, his other hand held out to the other side of the table, presumably at Trazen.
“Just calm down! Both of you!”
Jet saw movement on the side of the table where Trazen sat.
In an instant, Richter had a gun in his hand, aimed at Jet’s head.
“Get up from that bench and I’ll shoot her dead, lizard-skin,” he warned coldly, still panting, maybe partly in recovery from her attack. His eyes never left the other side of the table, where he appeared to be in a standoff with Trazen, although Jet couldn’t see the male Nirreth from where she knelt.
“Don’t test me on this!” Richter snapped, reacting to something Trazen had done, or maybe just the look on his face. “I know damned well you’d kill me… so don’t think for an instant I won’t take her with me!”
The Complete Alien Apocalypse Series (Parts I-IV Plus Bonus Novella): An Apocalyptic, Romantic, Science Fiction, Alien Invasion Adventure Page 80