by Lea Kirk
He surprised her with a genuine smile. “You will get past it, sora, and you will move on.” He pushed himself off the rock and stepped back.
“What...what about you, Graig?” she sniffed.
His face hardened again. “I will get past it, too. The moment I give Haesi our regards—just before I open her throat with my blade.”
~ * ~
Five days, but it seemed like ten. Alex leaned against Gryf, snuggled close to his side for warmth. Peace and safety radiated from him, and the scent of pine clung to his uniform. The first time he’d climbed into the trees to check for Anferthian search ships had scared the bejeezus out of her. The thought of him falling and breaking his neck was a real concern, until he’d proven what an adept climber he was. Or maybe she worried less because she felt like crap all the time. Weak, nauseated, and sharp pains in her abdomen. And every day was worse than the one before. What the hell was wrong with her?
Graig dozed on her other side, the blanket over all three of them to trap their collective body heat. A safe port in the storm. A swirl of snow blew past their small leeward facing hollow; not quite a cave, yet more than an overhang. Outside, nature was working itself up to a full-fledged spring blizzard, a common occurrence in the high Sierra-Nevada mountain range. They must be near seven thousand feet by now.
“Ithemba.” Gryf’s voice rumbled under her ear.
Graig stirred. “Outlawed five centuries ago. And the drug is very difficult to obtain even in the underworld market.”
Alex frowned. What were they talking about?
“I doubt Kotas would bother,” said Gryf. “But Haesi...it is conceivable that she would have connections.”
It was too much trouble for Alex to raise her head, so she tapped her fingers against Gryf’s chest. “What are we talking about here?”
Gryf’s other arm encircled her and drew her closer. His hand idly stroked up and down her arm. “A method once used throughout the known galaxy to interrogate prisoners.” He paused to clear his throat. “This drug, ithemba, is injected. It intensifies the pain, making the victim more amenable to answering questions. As long as booster injections are given, the drug will not cause internal damage. But if left in the system unattended, the victim’s internal organs will atrophy.”
Nausea churned in her stomach. “You’re right. Haesi does like her needles.” She swallowed hard against the fear rising in her chest. “I’m dying, aren’t I?”
Gryf’s arms tightened around her. “Not if we can get you to a healer in time. We are only a day or two from Ora’s coordinates. Dante should be there by now.”
The tiny shelter seemed to shrink and the air became stifling, like Kotas’s chamber. A slow rise of panic crept up her throat, and her heart thumped in her ears. I’m suffocating. She shoved away from Gryf.
“Alexandra…?”
“Going to barf.” Her words seemed muted to her ears, probably by the snow and the altitude, but their effect was instantaneous. Gryf released her and she stumbled several steps away out of the hollow before falling to her hands and knees to retch the remains of her Anferthian protein bar into the fresh snow. Unbelievable. It tasted worse the second time around. And the third...fourth. Ugh!
The attack passed, leaving her panting. A cold sweat dotted her upper lip and her arms trembled. She became aware of Gryf’s hand gliding up and down her back. He’d seen her at her worst more than once, and hadn’t run away yet. At this point, there was probably nothing she could do that would scare him off. She flopped over onto her back and lay panting. The sting of the cold snow cooled her hot cheeks.
“Compa.” He leaned over her, lines of worry creasing his forehead as he smoothed his hand over her hair. “Come back to the hollow. I have an idea.”
“But I can breathe out here.” Her protests wouldn’t work. He would take her back to the shelter. But the sting of the cold snow hitting her hot cheeks felt so good.
Gryf wouldn’t let up until she was on her feet and moving toward the hollow. If the ground didn’t stop spinning, though, he’d end up carrying her. Left, stop, repeat. Oh, god.
“Captain.” Graig stood in front of the hollow, his telum in hand and trained on something behind them.
Oh, crap. Someone must be there—unless Graig had a history of pulling his weapon on imaginary snowmen, which wasn’t likely. Gryf turned to look, keeping his body between her and whoever was there. She leaned forward just enough to see around his head.
Beyond him, two well-muffled, dark-clad shadows hovered in the failing light. Or were there four people there? Her eyes must be crossing. She reached up to rub them and blackness swooped in.
Chapter Twelve
Ora Solaris shivered as she contemplated the swirling snow beyond the mouth of the main cave of the refugee camp. In the darkness, the sound of the wind roaring through the trees confirmed the storm was intensifying. She had learned the names of many of those trees...aspen, cedar, Douglas fir, pine. Cedar was her favorite. The sharp scent of the bark smelled invigorating. Truly, Terr was a planet of incredible beauty. Not too different from Matir, although she did miss the lavender sky of home.
She compressed her lips and narrowed her eyes. Beautiful or not, Gryf was out there somewhere. How was he faring in this blizzard? Her cousin had been in harsh climates before, and she could not bring herself to believe he was anything other than safe.
And Bodie too. She nibbled her lower lip. Yes, Bodie was another invigorating life form on this planet. Not that she would share such thoughts with the Terrian male.
“They’ll be here, ma’am, don’t worry.”
She glanced at the Terrian male standing with her and gave him a small smile.
“I am that transparent, Gunner?” He stood with his feet apart and his hands behind his back, relaxed but ready for action in an instant.
“No, ma’am,” the Army Colonel replied, his breath fogging in the cold air. “Just a good guess.”
Garrison “Gunner” Reed was a good man, and an excellent soldier. Thank the Mother that he and his platoon had been in the area on training maneuvers at the time of the invasion. They had gathered all the civilian survivors they could find. It was nothing short of a miracle that his ragtag group had crossed paths with Bodie and Duck two days later.
She gave him a nod. “I will feel much better once they get here, certainly.”
Gunner grunted in apparent agreement, and a comfortable silence fell between them.
“Camp One, come in.” Ora’s handheld radio crackled to life. “Song Bird to Camp One.”
Her heart rate leapt at the sound of Bodie’s voice. Whether he was speaking, singing or whistling, the effect he had on her was always the same. Sometimes just looking at him was all it took to mix up her head. Maintain yourself, Captain Solaris. Truly, she was a captain, and her response to this alien civilian entertainer was unseemly.
Ora yanked the radio off her belt and depressed the button. “Camp One. Go ahead Song Bird.” The code words were not necessary, of course—it was unlikely the Anferthians would bother to scan for the weak Terrian band-waves that the handhelds transmitted. But it had seemed prudent to err on the side of caution.
“We’ve located the treasure in Cave Twenty-eight—two, eight. One of the pieces is tarnished and may not make it back. She’s a beauty, and worth sending in the expert.”
Alex. Gryf’s Terrian required medical assistance. It had been what the Terrians called a long shot, but Ora had so hoped they would all arrive unscathed. “What is the problem, Song Bird?”
“Ithemba.”
Ska! Her heart plummeted to her boots. Hells take Kotas. If what Dante told her about Alex was true, there was more at stake than any of them imagined.
“Gunner, get Dante. Tell him it is a code one emergency and to dress warm.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He turned and took a step in the direction of the tunnel leading to the infirmary, but stopped when she touched his arm.
“And Nick too. He will want to be w
ith his sister.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Gunner left to carry out her orders, and Ora lifted the radio to her mouth. “Song Bird, the expert is en route. Stand by.”
“Standing by, Sunshine.”
Ora suppressed a smile. Bodie had come up with her code name, and it pleased her ears to hear him use it now. She gave herself a mental shake then shivered. This would not be a pleasant hike, but the fates of two worlds depended upon Alex’s survival.
~ * ~
Alex fought her way through a thick, oppressive blanket of fog. Voices spoke around her, one of them Gryf’s. And he held her right hand between his, chaffing her frozen fingers. She’d recognize his touch anywhere. But who had her other hand?
“Duck, move a lutep closer to her feet.” Gryf’s voice washed over her. As long as he was with her, she’d be safe.
“Would Dante have something to counteract it?” This voice she didn’t recognize, the unknown man warming her left hand.
“It’s been over two hours. We cannot afford to wait for Dante any longer.” Gryf’s response was harsh. He must be pretty stressed.
She forced her eyes open, and blinked at the rocky ceiling above. A cave? And horses, she definitely smelled horses. How did they get here?
A familiar, wiry, dark-haired man in his mid-thirties sat on her left, massaging her hand. One brow winged up above his hazel eyes, and his mouth quirked in the midst of his rough goatee. “Never thought a face-plant could be graceful, but you did it—in the snow, no less.”
Where did she know him from? Her brain didn’t seem willing to cough up the answer, so she turned her gaze to the man sitting at her right. Gryf.
“I fainted.” In case he hadn’t figured that out already.
His I’m-in-charge-and-everything-will-be-all-right face faltered. “Indeed.”
“How’d we get here?”
“Bodie and Duck,” he indicated to the man next to her, and another larger man setting a glowing cube by her feet. “They braved the storm to find us and take us to Ora’s camp.”
“We’re there already?” How long had she been unconscious?
A mixture of sympathy and regret rose in Gryf’s eyes as he smoothed his hand over her hair. “Not yet. We are sheltering in this cave until the storm passes.”
That made sense.
Warmth penetrated the blanket around her feet and she glanced down at the glowing half-foot square cube. “Is that some sort of heater?”
“A lutep. It provides both light and warmth.” Gryf’s hand returned to the job of defrosting her fingers.
Technology. Cool. God, her head hurt, and her stomach was empty. Would she ever eat real food again? Not that it mattered; she probably couldn’t keep it down anyway.
“Beats starting a fire,” the man named Bodie said with a grin.
She squinted at him. “Bodie...Jones?” Nicky’s favorite R&B singer was here, in this cave, restoring circulation to her fingers? “How…never mind. My brother must have keeled over when he met you.”
Bodie’s grin widened. “He was a little tongue-tied at first. Good kid. I promised to get you back to him in one piece.” His grin faded as he glanced at Gryf. “But your captain doesn’t want to wait for the healer to get here.”
“I have healed her before, Jones,” Gryf growled.
He had, once. But the stakes were higher this time. Could he do it again?
“Dude, all I know is that this ithemba drug is some serious shit. It’s out of control in her system, killing her.” Bodie jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “And Roble back there said only a trained healer can neutralize it. You are not a trained healer.”
“Words I now regret,” Graig muttered from somewhere behind Bodie.
The singer glared at Gryf. “I’m not letting you mess her up more.”
“The choice is not yours.” Gryf’s jaw tightened.
Good grief. Alex allowed her eyes to close, shutting out the tunneling effect of her vision. “If you two don’t shut up, I’m going to throw up again.”
An unfamiliar snort came from somewhere near her feet. Must be the other man...Duck? “I’m thinkin’ you should drop it, Bode. Ya ain’t gonna win.”
Bodie made a growling sound, but said nothing. Good.
“Gryf?” His name fell from her lips like a sigh.
“I am here, compa.”
“Stay with me.” Fix me. Make me better.
“Always.” A gentle pressure from his fingers squeezed her hand, then darkness descended once more.
~ * ~
Alexandra’s face relaxed as she once again faded into the realm where he could not reach her. It would be better to have her verbal approval before attempting a healing, but he had not the heart to push her past her endurance.
He lifted his gaze to meet Bodie’s. “Step away. I will be using my Gift to heal her now. Commander Roble’s orders are to stop you from interfering, by force if necessary.”
The smaller man’s jaw clenched then relaxed. He threw his hands up with an exasperated sigh. “Man, it’s on you. I hope this works.”
As do I. Gryf gave him a nod, and the Terrian retreated to sit with his back against a stone wall.
Graig took the vacated spot at Alexandra’s side. “I had hoped to have this conversation in private, but even so must share my concerns...no, do not interrupt, Gryf. It is vital that you know what I suspect before you begin.”
Gryf ground his teeth and bit back the acidic words vying to be spoken. Graig was his friend since childhood, and a man of few words. Never had his counsel been detrimental or lacking, why would this time be any different?
He gave Graig a sharp nod. “Continue.”
“There’s something unusual about your relationship with Alex. Would you not agree?”
Unusual was an understatement. Intense and soul moving were more apropos. He drew his brows together and frowned. “Soul moving.” The murmured words teased at his memories. “At times it is as though my soul reaches out for hers.”
Could it be? “If you are suggesting anim tros, I must point out that Alexandra is not Matiran. Therefore, soul mating between us is impossible.”
Graig shrugged. “You say this only because it has never happened. But, unlike any other races in the known galaxy, Terrians are our genetic cousins. Only by our skin tones and Gifts do we differ. Why would soul mating be impossible between us?”
Leave it to Graig to find a sound counterargument. “But anim tros are rare, only occurring in times of desperate need. The last pair were joined two-hundred years ago during the famine.”
“During times of darkness, two are joined to right wrongs,” Graig said cryptically.
Times of darkness. The Anferthian invasion of Terr could be considered a dark time. But he and Alexandra were stranded on her planet. What could they do to right this…? “Mother, help us.” He stared wide-eyed at Graig. “Are you suggesting the Profeti?”
Graig’s expression turned sympathetic. “It is the conclusion that has turned in my mind since your illness. Dante and I discussed and dismissed the possibility, but since then I find my opinion has changed.”
Which meant Dante likely had a similar change of heart. And Ora...holy Mother, she was an avid believer in the Profeti. There was little doubt where she would stand on this issue.
Like it or not, there was a certain logic to Graig’s conclusion. And it would explain much about the depth of Gryf’s relationship with Alexandra. I cannot believe I am considering this.
“What the hell is a ‘Profeti’?” Bodie asked.
Gryf released a sigh and shifted from sitting on his knees to his buttocks. “Ora must have told you about our history with your people.” He paused long enough for Bodie to nod. “The Profeti is an ancient Matiran prophecy made a century after The Leaving. A dark time will befall Terr and Matir, and two will be chosen to reunite our peoples. One from each of our worlds.” He cast a glance at Graig. “This is an insane idea. What if you are wrong?”
&nbs
p; Another shrug. “Can we afford to take that risk?”
“There is one large impediment you have overlooked. Alexandra and I are stranded here on Terr. There are no resources we can fall back on to win back her planet or save ours.”
A rare mischievous grin brightened Graig’s face. “As your cousin would say, who are we to question the will of the Mother?”
“Of that there is no doubt. I will consider your words.” He allowed his gaze to rest on each of the three men. “None of you are to discuss this with Alexandra. As her potential anim tros, it is my responsibility to do so.”
He pushed himself to his feet to stretch before attempting the healing. Chances were the damage to her organs was significant and would take time to heal.
“One more thing, Gryf.” Graig paused until Gryf made eye contact. “Eno anim—the soul mating—has not occurred for you yet. Each time you and she have a preternatural encounter, your souls have tried to bond. It is only by the blessings of the Mother that it has not occurred.”
Here-in lay the problem. To heal her now, he would run a great risk of their souls joining without her consent. Alexandra should have a choice in the matter. To deny her would rob them of the open and honest relationship he desired to have with her. It was vital that he not betray her trust in this manner.
He gave Graig a curt nod. “I shall do all I can to avoid this situation.”
Gryf knelt over Alexandra, his knees cushioned by the rough horse blankets under her. His hands rested on her mid-riff as he inhaled a deep, centering breath and allowed his Gift to flow over, then into, her.
His mind recoiled. It was one thing to talk about the damage caused by the ithemba, but quite another to be immersed in its oozing, sickening depths. There was not a chance in all the hells that she would survive until Dante arrived. Healing her now was the right course of action, even without her verbal permission. But, now that he was carrying out this plan, his path was not so clear. How would he remove the poison?
His Gift surged deeper, as though it knew where to go and what to do. Perhaps this would be easier than he had anticipated.
In his chest, something moved, pressing forward as though seeking egress from his body. Beneath his hands, Alexandra’s body lurched and her eyes opened, glowing like warm amber.