“Look,” he’d finally said, “your fiancé’s father has a great desire to understand all things human—especially the younger generations. Teenagers to be specific. A lot of it probably has to do with the fact that we kelvieri look sixteen and will forever. But I’m sure it’s more. Over the centuries, he’s witnessed the younger generation become smarter and smarter while they’ve grown lazier and lazier. It’s made him curious. So here I am—an experiment.”
Venus nodded. Her parents had talked about sending an expedition to Earth for the same sort of reasons. They had questions about why humans seemed to die at such a young age.
“So you’re here to study the humans? You’re a Discoverer?”
“Well, yes and no. My official title is Geneticist, but I’ve gone on several expeditions before this one and discovered many different worlds, so Discoverer fits, too.”
“What have you learned? Are humans bound to become extinct?” Her Earth Studies teacher had given humans another century at most before they destroyed each other and their beautiful planet.
“Probably, though I find their take on emotions fascinating.”
Venus shrugged and went to bed. She’d had more questions, but Dervinias seemed anxious to get to the high school party and Venus had been tired.
Still was.
But so far sleep eluded her. Two hours of tossing and turning, trying to get comfortable enough, relaxed enough, to close her eyes and drift. Without success. A faint mildew odor tickled her nose and the bed wasn’t as comfortable as it’d looked. Kind of lumpy. She’d changed into pajamas for sleep, a black tank and boy shorts. The material, though softer than the clothes she’d been wearing, scratched her skin. And human underwear—awful! Talk about riding into areas they didn’t belong. No wonder humans were grouchy. She missed her silky unisas and her lovely, comfortable bed that read her body’s every need, both internally and externally. She guessed that if clouds weren’t vapor, but as soft and squishy as they looked, they’d feel like her bed back home.
“Cret,” she swore and flipped onto her back. Forcing her breathing to slow, she closed her eyes. If only I didn’t have to breathe. If only there was a switch to turn off my mind.
But it refused to shut down. Scenarios on how she’d ended up on Earth coursed through her. Who would’ve done it? She knew her family had enemies. That went along with being royalty. What they did about it was a different story. Their counselors, chancellors and especially her parents had always kept that part of ruling the kingdom away from her. They’d said she was too young to understand. Now she was on her own and she didn’t know where to start. It could’ve been anyone. How could she help them if she didn’t know where to begin?
And Sadraden? Her irrihunter’s baby? Both dead. Venus felt tears form in her eyes, a human thing to do—cry. She tried to blink them back, but one escaped and she wiped it away. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.” Another tear. Pain wrenched and twisted her heart. The tears flowed and she let them.
For the first time ever, she cried herself to sleep.
15. Electric Blue
Kelarians can tell the difference between a dream and reality. A part of their minds always remained alert. For this reason Venus knew she’d pierced someone’s consciousness. What she didn’t know was whose. They weren’t hers. The images she witnessed guaranteed that, but this hadn’t happened before. Like a child hiding in a corner, she tried to stay out of the way. She had no doubt getting involved in a dream or a memory could be detrimental.
She watched.
A little boy with a shuck of black hair sat on the floor playing with cars. He looked like he was three. The dark wood floor felt cold against his bare feet and he wriggled his long toes against the tingling numbness. He wore a yellow t-shirt and khaki shorts. Venus could hear yelling in the background and felt the boy’s mind fill with fear. He was scared of the angry voices—of his parents. He didn’t think they loved him. That he was bad and was to blame for their constant fighting. Suddenly, the voices got quiet and then the man called for him.
“Son. Come here.” A command. Venus watched the boy stand and followed him into a bedroom. Smoky haze and the smell of cigarettes overpowered his senses. A man sat in a stuffed orange and white flowered chair. Black hair, like the boy’s, covered his head. Gray peppered the edges, near his ears. He was clean shaven. Handsome even. Across from him, a woman sat on the edge of a bed, rocking back and forth, her eyes red and puffy. “Sit on the floor.” The man pointed to the ground. The boy obeyed, head lowered. Afraid. And the man knew it. He looked away, like he had to gather himself. Venus watched the man’s eyes. They were the eyes of a devil.
Fear for the boy slashed at her heart. He was like a lamb to the slaughter.
“Let me see your feet.” The words dripped with malice.
“Why?” the boy asked. Innocent.
“Don’t question me, stupid.” He grabbed a foot and lifted it with one hand. In the other he held what looked like a thick piece of glass. “Catherine, this is your fault. Yours and this boy’s. You two make me do this.” Then he cut the boy’s foot.” Blood poured onto the floor—a red river.
Venus turned away, unable to watch the boy’s suffering. She could still hear him scream. Sorrow filled her for the tortured boy. How she hurt for him—with him.
The memories continued. And so did the abuse. She witnessed, experienced every cut and bruise, externally and internally. Years and years of his suffering strangled her, like rope on a noose. She struggled to breathe. He’d been right. His father blamed him for everything.
By the age of seven his father left and Venus felt a momentary relief. He’d be safe. But, no. The mother, Catherine, continued with the abuse.
In spite of his parents, he managed to stay kind. He began playing football so he could feel like a winner in some area of his life. It’d worked. People flocked to him. A born leader. He escaped the pain by reading. Developed a love of poetry: William Blake, Emily Dickinson. He devoured books. All of Shakespeare, War and Peace, Frankenstein, anything by Hemingway, Faulkner, Mark Twain. He also held a secret hope that his mother, in her way, still loved him.
Venus watched him grow, felt his losses, experienced his crushes on girls. He decided early that they used him. Many of his decisions were a product of his mother’s hurtful words, which taught him to never let himself get too close. Still he’d fallen for a beautiful girl. Cheverly! These were Michael’s dreams. Michael’s memories. Deep down, she’d known. She watched the two of them together. He seemed to love her and she loved him. Venus also witnessed the day he’d seen Cheverly with Dervinias. The pain he’d experienced. And though hate seethed within, she felt his underlying love for the girl.
She also saw the way his mother treated him and felt the intense rage he harbored. Like a ship in a storm, he’d been pummeled and beaten at every turn in his life. With every relationship he dared have. He was growing weary. Ready to sink and disappear into the churning waves . . .
Unexpectedly everything in his mind went dark. His heart began to beat fast, like a frightened rabbit. Excitement? Fear? She didn’t know. Maybe both. It was as though a blindfold had been placed over her eyes. Venus couldn’t comprehend, nor see what happened.
Only felt his confusing emotions.
Then his soul soared with an unexplained pleasure. And when she finally understood why, she was devastated. He wanted to die. It saddened her to realize he considered death as a means of relief. She tried to dig deeper, see if there was a specific reason, but he wouldn’t let her in any further. Frustrated, she pushed, trying to advance further into the recesses of his mind, but she wasn’t sure how and didn’t want to hurt him or herself.
She’d almost given up, but like a light bulb, his mind flipped back on. She heard birds singing, a fast moving stream, smelled the Larkspur and the Sunflowers. He was remembering that day on the mountain. The day the two of them met. Venus stayed on the fringes, now familiar with the sounds. And then she saw h
erself, moving toward Michael.
It was strange, seeing herself as he did: long blond hair flowing behind her as she ran. The sun hitting the strands made him think of a glowing halo. Ethereal was the word he used. His heart quickened as he watched who he believed was the Angel of Death.
Michael believed she’d come to kill him. Take him from his pain. Save him.
When he first saw her, he’d thought she ran naked toward the stream. The sunlight had blurred her skin and her cream-colored unisa together. All he noticed were her Kelvieri’s Boots. Her skin shone, radiant. And the way the light hit her eyes, he kept thinking of a song—Electric Blue—by some group called Icehouse.
As she drew nearer, his heart softened. But, almost as quickly he cursed himself for having any sort of feeling. Once they’d started talking, he hungered for an emotional and physical bond. Craved it worse than the alcohol he’d been drinking. So tormented.
He longed to be taken from his forsaken life. It caused him pain to realize she hadn’t brought relief. Hatred. Agony ripped through his body. She watched him pull out the gun, tap it against his forehead. Venus wanted to reach out and take it from him. Then she heard the word he’d heard: coward. It’d saved him, but where did it come from?
She was drowning with him in his sorrows. So much about their first meeting made more sense.
And then she saw him again at that diner, where he noticed her. Desire coursed through him whenever he pondered their kiss. Apple cider. But Venus shook her head. That didn’t matter. What was of the upmost importance, he’d gone to the party with Cheverly. They’d talked. He’d allowed his feelings for her to bubble to the surface, though he hadn’t wanted them too. He had so much pain, yet he still cared.
How Venus hurt for him. The more she learned, the more her soul connected with his. He needed her help. He needed love more than anyone she’d ever known. And, Venus wanted to help him.
She had no idea how or where to begin. Love was an emotion foreign to her, at least the true, everlasting love that could exist between two people . . .
She woke abruptly, covered in sweat. Entering Michael’s mind had been exhausting. She felt damaged, having suffered his every cut and each emotional cruelty, as he had. Venus felt the inklings of understanding ripple inside her mind. There was a reason the Gods, Ith and Aetha, had linked her to this boy. It wasn’t merely a punishment. It was much more.
A whispered confirmation enveloped her. “Yes.”
The Gods hadn’t sent her here, but they would allow her to learn from the experience. This had become part of her immortal’s journey—part of her quest toward becoming kelvieri. If immortality were to be hers, if she wanted to return home and find the truth behind what’d happened to her family, her irrihunter, and, if she wanted to someday rule Alayeah, Venus needed to do this.
16. Here I Go Again
“C’mon, hurry up.” Dervinias stalked out of the house, grateful for a break from the electronic dance garbage shaking the walls. Three of his supporters followed. One was Kelvin, the large lug he wasn’t sure about. The others were called Tawny and Selena. He went past the steaming hot tub full of screaming girls in bikinis and smelly chlorine and headed toward the far end of the yard.
“Hey baby,” one of the wet girls called, waving. Stephanie was her name, Dervinias remembered. Hot body. She’d make a perfect candidate for his plan—whether she wanted to or not. They had Trig together. He ignored her, for now, and continued toward a large tree.
The bark appeared thick and brittle. Almost all of the leaves had fallen. They crunched under his feet sending a faint tang of nutmeg into the air. At the tree, he stopped and pressed his back against its trunk, propping a foot.
“What is it, Dervinias?” Tawny asked, looking peeved. He knew she wasn’t happy with the group dynamic—Chev being his leading lady.
He let a smile curve his lips. “I have a job for the three of you.”
His father had failed to mention that the princess’s Formytian had followed her to Earth. That made killing the girl even more difficult. The over-protective guardian had discovered the treachery and followed her. His exuberance would be the death of him.
“Tell us,” Tawny said in whispered excitement. He knew she lusted after the chance to kill. Though she’d never know, that was the reason she hadn’t been chosen to rule by his side.
“Well darling, before we can move forward with our plan, you have to kill a kelarian princess. You think you can handle that?”
“Isn’t she l-like you?” Kelvin asked.
“No, she isn’t.” Dervinias breathed, trying to keep his patience. “You don’t need all of the details, but trust me when I say she’s vulnerable. She can be killed. This planet’s atmosphere will take care of her in seven days, but I want her murdered corpse brought to me tonight.”
“Uh, Dervinias, sir?”
Give me strength. “What is it, Kelvin?”
“If Earth will destroy her in a week, then what’s the big deal? Why do we have to kill—again?” Dervinias noticed he shuffled his feet; his shoulders slouched inside his letterman’s jacket.
You’d think the way he hacked off body parts, Kelvin would be excited at the prospect of another death. But, apparently not.
“Because, Kelvin. She has a mega-enthusiastic guardian who is like me, and he’s going to do everything in his power to help her get back to Kelari. What happens if he finds a way before she dies? Mmmm?” Dervinias crossed his arms and stomped his foot on the hard ground.
“I guess,” Kelvin said.
The quiet one, Selena, stepped forward. “What’s she to us?”
“Let’s just say if we don’t kill her our plans will be ruined. Good enough?”
Tawny stepped forward. “How do you want us to do this?”
Ferocious, beautiful Tawny. He pulled a slip of paper from a back pocket and handed it to her. “Get the knives I’ve given you. You’ll need them. And then get your butts to that address and kill her. You’ll have the element of surprise. She’ll be tired. Murder her while she’s sleeping.”
Tawny unfolded the paper. Kelvin and Selena leaned in to read the address.
“Isn’t this your house?” Selena asked, giving him a strange look.
“And her name’s Venus?” Tawny confirmed. “Right. But that doesn’t matter. Follow the map. You’ll find her in the far bedroom.” Dervinias pushed away from the tree, moving closer to the humans. “There.” He pointed at a large X.
“Is she the girl from the diner tonight? Wow, she’s fine,” Kelvin said.
In an instant, Dervinias grabbed Kelvin by the throat and hefted his large body in the air. “Yeah? Well I need you to shut up and destroy that fine girl. Got it?”
“Yes,” he gasped.
Dervinias dropped him and spoke to the girls. “Good. Remember to be careful. Her guardian can read her mind as well as yours. I’ll make sure he’s incapacitated. So if you make it quick, he won’t realize anything’s happened until it’s too late. I’d kill her myself, but I’ll need an alibi.” They each looked at him with uncertainty. He was sure they wanted more information. Like little children, he could almost hear their whining.
But there was no way he’d kill her. Not with the curse the Gods had placed upon him. He’d rather live eternally amongst humans than forever in the lowest realm of Helker. A fate worse than death.
Besides it wouldn’t be long now before he’d created a new race. A species that would call him a God.
“We’ll do it,” Kelvin said.
“Of course you will,” Dervinias agreed.
17. Another One Bites The Dust
Venus had no idea what time it was. The dreams and memories she’d witnessed in Michael’s mind hung over her thoughts like wet clothes. She pulled back the covers, about to get out of bed and get a drink, when she heard a shuffling noise in the hallway, outside her bedroom. If it’d been Zaren, she wouldn’t have heard him, so it had to be someone else.
“Dervinias,” she w
hispered, figuring he’d come home from the party.
The noise stopped, but she watched the door handle turn slowly. Moving forward, she went to see what Dervinias wanted. He bugged her with his incessant cheerfulness, like an obnoxious Mary Poppins. Worse, Venus knew he made Zaren uneasy. That’s all the warning she needed about the guy.
Three. Two. One. She flung the door open and immediately took a step back, shocked to see a very tall, very bulky person at the threshold. It wasn’t Dervinias. She knew this because of his height and width, but she had no idea who he was. His face covered in shadows by the hood over his head.
Her body was still heavy with sleepiness, but she worked to sound tough. “Who are you? Are you one of Dervinias’s friends?”
“I’m the death of you, gorgeous,” he said, softly, his tone and inflections exposing his youth and confidence. Hulking, but obviously a teen. From behind his back, he revealed a large knife, the blade long and curved, like a sickle.
Venus felt her pupils grow large—not in fear—but in preparation. This boy had no idea who he planned to murder. She’d been trained in more than one form of what humans called martial arts, but the warriors she’d studied under weren’t from this little planet. If she wanted to, she could slaughter this poor kid with his own knife before he knew what happened.
“I think you’ve got that backward, you overgrown mingtar. If you don’t leave now, I’ll be the death of you.”
He raised his head and Venus squinted, working to see his face. “That’s not what he told me. He said you’d be easy to kill. You’re tiny. Killing you will be like snapping a hummingbird’s bones.” He sounded less sure of himself, though. The knife in his hand drooped slightly.
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