by Elsa Jade
The guards lumbered forward, their knuckles brushing the ground.
Luc stepped back, pushing Amy with him. The satchel slid from his shoulder into her grasp, and in the same flowing move he pulled his blaster.
The guards paused to look back at Rickster, who frowned. “Luc baby,” the assistant producer said. “C’mon. You’re an accountant. I know you won’t—”
A pale orange beam sliced across the alley, striking the starfish and sending all the tentacles waving in a spasm.
Amy gasped as Luc pushed her harder. “Run,” he growled, a deep threat from his drakling. “They aren’t getting the prism. Or you.”
Rickster thrashed harder, burbling, until the words came clear. “Get them!”
The monkey-guards loped into pursuit.
One of them sprang off the side of the nearest building, cutting off her escape to the street. She wheeled around to find Luc firing a stronger beam of energy from the blaster. The second monkey-guard squealed as the tangler caught him mid-jump.
Glancing back over her shoulder, Amy cried out a warning to Luc as the first guard stalked toward her, monkey arms reaching out for the satchel. She backpedaled frantically and ran into the wall.
The guard looked up. And up.
Not a wall. The low warning rumble against her spine almost melted her knees. She hazarded a peek up at Luc’s huge triangular head and shining teeth. And the familiar jade eyes touched with gold. When he unfurled his mighty wings, the arched pinions blocking the alley, the gust of wind knocked the guard to his haunches.
Amy scooped up the blaster from between Luc’s claws and flattened the monkey-guard with a stun shot.
As one—the infamous interstellar explorer tucked between the drakling’s legs—they whirled to face Rickster.
Idrin shot the assistant producer with another tangler blast, and the starfish went down in a small fountain of bubbles.
Amy sighted down her blaster at the smuggler, her aim unwavering. “We’re not giving the prism to you either,” she growled, not quite as low as drakling-Luc but still pretty menacing, if she did say so herself.
Slowly holstering his weapon, Idrin lifted his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Didn’t ask for it.”
She quick-glanced at Rickster, frothing helplessly. “You stopped the raiders in the Jessup Void. Now this?”
Idrin shrugged. “I might be just an independent, low-overhead, alternative-legalities hauler—”
“A smuggler,” she interrupted.
“A smuggler,” he agreed. “And bounty hunter too. But I always do the job I’m paid for. And Rickster keeps forgetting to pay me. He also kept forgetting our agreement to get me a date with the Malabrankian female from last season’s Great Space Race. Dinner only! I don’t believe in this true love prism larf-spit.” The smuggler shook his head. “What is the universe coming to when an assistant producer of a criminally deadly holo-vid show won’t keep his word?”
Amy pressed a little closer to the curve of Luc’s breastbone where the amethyst-edged scales were almost as big as her spread fingers, and the mighty pounding of his heart strengthened her voice. “Part of the Flamewalker Clan’s riches will be yours if you get us out of here.”
Idrin smiled, his white teeth almost as shiny as a drakling’s. “Now that I believe in.”
Chapter 21
They didn’t get to see the Great Space Race Grand Gala.
Idrin had a trans-dimensional portal rigged with Octiron tech that whisked them out of the Paragon Galaxy—with their clothes this time, not to mention the prism—probably before Rickster even shook off the aftereffect stun of the tangler beam. His velocious-class scouter paced the Blissed back to the drakling homeworld as security detail—although he told them that he doubted Rickster had the remaining resources to mount another pursuit—and to claim his reward.
Luc hadn’t been able to leash the restless beast inside him until he’d had Amy safely back on the Blissed. The wild spirit inside him had been so incensed he hadn’t even thought about the prism until she unwrapped it from the satchel and held it out to him.
“Into the Arms-Arms-Arms of Love,” she sighed. “I would’ve watched that show.”
More than the rainbow memory of the Firestorm Queen and her blacksmith, the wistfulness of Amy’s words returned him to himself.
And now, returning home, the beast had never felt further away.
This had been what he wanted: the admiration of his clan, the envy of his brothers, a bit of bragging.
He had more than that—he had the true Firestorm Queen’s Prism.
But something was missing.
Not just the drakling spirit either. Amy was quiet and withdrawn, her dark eyes shadowed when he caught her looking at him. He assured her that they hadn’t permanently harmed Rickster or the guards, and that Octiron wouldn’t come after them—probably didn’t even know about them—but she’d just nodded.
“And the Flamewalker Clan will do everything in its power—which is vast—to get you home,” he finished. Just saying the words had the beast within him roaring a denial, but he would do anything to return the light to her eyes.
But his promise had made her unusually quiet.
Even when she’d been confused and scared, she’d never been so distant, as if the Blissed was suddenly out of phase with her spacetime and they were passing each other in different dimensions. The estrangement ate at him like mite acid, plasma burns, and the airless, icy cold of dead space.
He managed to get a message out to his cousin who had mated the Earther through the Intergalactic Dating Agency. Amy and the other female talked for awhile, and afterward, she seemed a little more animated.
“Tisha told me all about the Intergalactic Dating Agency.” Amy shook her head. “I can’t believe there was an alien mail order bride service happening in Sunset Falls and I never knew.”
“If you did know, it would’ve been a breach of galactic council closed-world rules,” he pointed out.
She shrugged. “I’m not sure how much longer they can hide it, considering how many different people clean Mr. Evens’ bathroom.”
While he didn’t understand that cryptic reference, he wondered if she might be right about her planet. And if other Earthers were anything like her, they’d be a fine addition to the trans-galactic community.
She went on, “Since some of the intergalactic dating agency brides are stolen against their will, Tisha told me there’s a support group for abducted Earth girls.”
A shaft of anguish tightened his throat. The thought that she might need support from anyone else pierced the wild spirit in him like a plasma cannon. “Maybe you should meet with them before you go back to Earth,” he said diffidently. “I know this has all been hard on you.”
She glanced away. “It wasn’t that bad.” The fleeting touch of her dark gaze skated over his wounded nerve endings like shattered quarry crystal, agonizing and yet precious to his treasure-seeking drakling self. “Maybe I’ll talk to them, but maybe just to share my experience and tell them…what it meant to me.”
What had it meant to her? She’d given him his drakling wings, and even if he gave her the prism, that would never repay what it meant to him.
They landed the Blissed at the private landing pad outside his clan’s compound, and Idrin’s ship settled beside them. When they all emerged, Luc expected the smuggler to fall into step with them, unwilling to let the source of his reward out of his sight.
Instead, the other male hung close to his ship. “I hear there’s a big mating ceremony happening,” he said. “I’m, uh, not into that sort of thing, so I’ll wait here.” He scowled. “Don’t forget who saved you.”
“I won’t,” Luc assured him, but he was watching Amy who had turned to look over the terraced fields that stretched down into the long, sloping valley below the hilltop compound.
“It looks like home,” she murmured.
“Sunset Falls?” Leaving the smuggler behind, he joined her at the edge of
the landing pad. There was no railing, since draklings weren’t bothered by heights, but he kept his hand close to her in case he needed to grab her.
The beast so wanted to grab her.
She shook her head. “Sichuan province, where my grandfather lived. We have rice paddies that look like this.”
“These are kyapa-sho fields.” The golden leaves swayed gently in the warm breeze, a gorgeous contrast to the low, dark stone walls that contained them, and a faint, spicy fragrance drifted upward. “Their ripening cycle echoes the drakling claiming season, which is why my brothers’ ceremonies are happening now.”
Amy glanced over her shoulder at the winding path up the hill. “Your family lives in a castle.”
He squinted at her careful tone. “In our more primitive past, we draklings attacked each other’s fortresses to steal treasure. If only we’d had Octiron shows to keep us entertained.” He tried for a smile.
For the first time in what seemed like days, she smiled back. “Now you’ve had your very own adventure to share with your brothers. Not to mention the Firestorm Queen’s Prism in hand.”
He nodded as he gestured for her to join him on the path up to the house. It was a castle, he realized. It had just been home to him, or more like a prison he’d been eager to escape. Now that he was back, he could see it for what it was: a big, old house that had only the power he gave it.
The staff at the landing pad had called ahead, obviously, because as they approached the main wall which curved defensively against attack from above, the huge, drakling-sized gate stood wide. His brothers, all twelve, stood shoulder to shoulder, blocking the way.
Stiffening, he fisted his hand over the satchel, the hard lump of the prism filling his palm. With no skin contact, the matrix-imprinted memories of the queen and the blacksmith didn’t trigger, but the fledgling still in him was comforted that he had a weapon like the rocks he used to hurl at his torturing siblings when they teased him for studying. He was otherwise unarmed since Amy had the blaster tucked into the sheath of her leg wrap. He had the beast to call on, and he was sorely tempted to bring it to the fore now, where all could see.
Never mind that the odds were still twelve to one against him.
But Amy made a small noise of consternation, and he took her hand instead. She’d asked for him to give her courage once. He could use a little of that now himself.
With a steadying breath, he kept his boots on target although maybe one of his footsteps faltered halfway when his eldest brother broke from the ranks and strode toward them.
“Lucayilano.” Red hair bristling and scales flushed crimson, his brother stopped an arm’s length away.
“Yannlunnio.” Luc eyed his tormentor-in-chief warily. “You received my messages?”
“I did.” Yann lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Luc’s shoulders. “Brother, you’ve returned! The thirteen are one again!”
Luc grunted as his brother’s powerful chest slammed into his in a smothering hug. Amy made another small noise, and when he glanced at her, she seemed to be snickering. Not helpful.
Carefully, he edged one arm around his brother and gave a perfunctory pat-pat. Somehow, that seemed to release the inertia holding the other eleven, and they poured down the steps to surround him.
The buffeting and loud welcomes of twelve drakling males was too much for any being—even another drakling. But Luc held his ground. Until he realized Amy had been pushed to one side, her eyes wide and her hand hovering over near the butt of the blaster.
He shrugged free of his brothers to reach for her. “Amy, let me introduce you to my clutch-brethren. Yann is the eldest…” He ran through the other eleven with ever-quickening speed as he watched her dark eyes glaze over at the darkling names before turning back to his brother. “Yann, is there an open room where Amy can stay? She’s been through a lot to help find the prism.”
“Of course.” Yann gestured them toward the open gate. “We set aside one of the cottages. Although I’m afraid the compound is overflowing with relatives here for the mating ceremonies. Everyone will be thrilled you’re home, but it means no place is exactly peaceful right now.”
When had the compound ever been peaceful? Luc managed not to snort. Maybe that was after he left. As for his clan being thrilled at his return… Only because he had the Firestorm Queen’s Prism.
They walked through the inner courtyard, skirting the high curved wall to stay out of the bustling preparations for the mating ceremonies. Sheaves of kyapa-sho were strung above the yard with ribbon and pathways of coals were laid underneath; when the firewalking paths were lit, the unripe kyapa-sho would open, showering the newly mated couples with golden dust more sweet than hot.
“I didn’t realize the ceremony is tonight,” he remarked.
Yann clouted his shoulder. “The last full moons of the harvest month. I thought you were good with numbers.”
Luc grimaced. “I’ve been otherwise occupied.”
“Transcribing a poem to galactic coordinates.” Yann’s red hair bobbled as he waved dismissively. “You’ll have to explain it all to us again. With pictures this time.”
“If only we’d had a video crew following us,” Amy muttered.
Yann guffawed. “Because you thought you were competing in the Great Space Race. What a splendid tale!”
They left the commotion in the courtyard behind as they crossed a small bridge to a row of dwellings. The brightly tinted modular domes were draped with more bunting that celebrated the upcoming nuptials and the harvest. At the far end of the row, a pack of younglings ran with a long length of ribbon—obviously purloined from the courtyard decorations—unspooling behind them.
Amy cooed. “It’s so pretty.”
Yann grinned at her. “And so are you. My runt brother chose well.”
Bristling, Luc turned to face him. “I didn’t—”
“He’s not a runt,” Amy said curtly. “And he’s not unlucky. An unlucky runt would never have found the Firestorm Queen’s Prism.” When Luc touched her elbow, she shrugged him off.
Looking down at her, Yann cocked his head, his pupils narrowing to slits. “Or maybe only an unlucky runt would be chosen. That’s how it usually goes in splendid tales.” He stopped at the last cottage that bordered a small stream. “Your abode. Rest. Freshen up. The cottage is fully stocked so avail yourself of whatever you like. The mating ceremony starts at dusk.”
While Amy pushed open the oval door and peeked inside, Yann nudged Luc.
“I like her,” he hissed. “The other females are eager to meet her, but we told them they have to be patient.”
Luc hadn’t met any of his brothers’ chosen mates, but he knew drakling females. “You told them to be patient? How’s that going?”
“Terribly,” Yann said with a cheerful groan. “You might still be an unlucky runt, but taking an innocuous closed-worlder to mate is clever of you.”
“Actually, she’s an infamous interstellar explorer,” Luc murmured as she disappeared into the cottage. Then he actually heard what his brother had said, and he stiffened. “She’s not my mate.”
“Not until the ceremony, of course.” Yann strode away. “Don’t be late. And don’t forget the prism.” He hooted. “What a splendid tale!”
Luc gritted his teeth. This was why he’d left. Yann was the worst, but all his brothers were impossible to talk to, rolling roughly over everyone around them.
One of the reasons drakling females had to be equally impossible.
Which was not why he’d chosen Amy… He hadn’t chosen Amy. They weren’t mates. Not even teammates, not anymore.
Chapter 22
A bath in the sonic shower. Food. Another message to Tisha, the Earther mated to Luc’s cousin, a drakling incongruously named Honey. Amy ticked through her to-do list on autopilot like she was back in the bathroom at Mr. Even’s Odds & Ends Shop.
She was by herself, Luc having slipped out after telling her he wanted to look around. She would’ve liked to ha
ve gone with him, to see another new planet and all the drakling shapeshifters, but she understood his need to reacquaint himself with his home and his family.
His brothers, whew, what a handful. Well, with twelve of them, it was more than two handfuls. So loud, so big, and the way they’d swarmed him had been alarming at first. And sort of made her wonder about the stories he’d told of being the unwanted runt. Because, really, they seemed to be genuinely excited about him coming home.
She didn’t have anyone waiting that eagerly for her. And she wouldn’t even be able to tell anyone about her adventures. She’d be just little Amy Long, part-time dreamer and full-time toilet cleaner, again.
Tisha had told her that since Earth was a closed world, kept clueless about the sentient, spacefaring beings beyond the immediate solar system, her memories would be wiped upon her return.
But she didn’t want to lose these memories, not ever. This adventure had made her who she was now.
When Luc hadn’t returned by the time the daylight faded, her heart sank as if drowning in icy water. Maybe he’d forgotten about her. After all, he’d gotten what he’d wanted when they plucked the last gemstone from the whirlpool. They weren’t teammates anymore, and he didn’t need her for anything…
But even as the old, useless thoughts of insignificance flooded her, she rejected them. He wouldn’t abandon her. He was just catching up. Unless… Another uneasy thought. What if his brothers were a little too eager about keeping him? Worse yet, what if Rickster had found a way to come after them?
Tension zipped through her, tightening all the places that had gone momentarily slack with dejection. She wasn’t wait-around-and-worry girl anymore. Yann hadn’t been kidding about the cottage being fully supplied; she found an array of colorful, beautifully adorned outfits clearly intended for the ceremony. And clearly intended for shapeshifters—the belted robes were stylish but cut for easy removal for anyone who suddenly turned into a dragon. She found a pale lavender one that wasn’t too long and dressed quickly, adding her own arm and leg wraps and tucking the blaster in the sheath.