by J. D. Dexter
“Yes, we can make any part of our bodies any size we want,” Drake answers, his voice overly loud.
He and Brockten are as tall as Brian. Dressed in black cargo pants, combat boots, and tight black t-shirts, they look like Hollywood’s version of off-duty Special Warfare operators. Brockten’s black hair has morphed to match Drake’s brown hairstyle: shaved on the sides with a thick braid down the middle. The long tail hanging down between their shoulder blades. Their bicolored eyes of contrasting blues stand out in a spectacular fashion against their swarthy skin.
Everyone glances around, surprise and confusion clear to see. Brian’s flushing cheeks tell me he’s the one who thought the question.
“I should mention that they can all read your minds,” I pipe up from the back.
Male growls of outrage flow around the room.
“You couldn’t have said anything sooner?” Brian practically yells, his hands thrown in the air, his deep blue eyes wide.
“Forget it, man. I just wanted you to know that we can hear your thoughts,” Drake answers. He sounds way too familiar with Earth lingo and colloquialisms.
Brockten’s looking at Brian like he’s almost disgusted with him. I imagine a lot of the guys in my own life have been on the receiving end of similar looks from the men across the table from us. I stifle my giggle, not wanting to embarrass Brian any more than he already seems to be.
He’s hiding it well, but he is definitely interested in Keziry. The sideways glances, the questions directed at her more than the guys. The careful way he keeps track of his body. He’s got the hots for her.
Keziry turns slightly. Giving me a sly wink, I realize that I didn’t shield my own thoughts.
Crap, crap, crap.
She bursts out laughing, the sound bright and happy. Her laugh brings everyone else’s until the entire room is full of lightness and joy.
“I am intrigued by your gentle giant as well. Have no fear.” Keziry’s feminine voice floats through my mind’s eye, like closed captioning on the bottom of a screen.
I mentally wipe my forehead of invisible sweat. Whew, that could have ended poorly. I really need to learn how to mentally shield myself; this could turn into a fiasco in no time flat.
“That is one of the things we have come to help with,” she answers my mental statement.
“You’ve really got to stop doing that, Keziry. It’s creepy, not to mention rude.” I cross my arms over my middle.
“I apologize. Although, on Ankarrah, it is considered rude not to shield your mind, to display all your mental goings-on. It is thought to be the indicator of a flawed, weak personality.” She gives me an appraising look.
My back stiffens. I’m no weak sister.
“Indeed, you are not. You are of Anixia’s bloodline. Weakness is not a part of that makeup,” Brockten says. His dark midnight blue and lapis lazuli eyes serious. “You are merely uneducated and untried. Her father asked us to come and help train her.”
The man doesn’t talk a lot, but when it does, it makes an impact.
“What’s his name? He said I wouldn’t be able to pronounce it. But I’m assuming you guys can,” I say.
“He says you call him Jessica,” Drake responds, his blue on blue eyes twinkling with humor. He takes a step in my direction. “He had to give us a name that was pronounceable in our languages as well. He uses the name Shavix, and instructed us to share this name with you as well.”
Hunter sneers at the man.
“Jessica’s real name is Shavix?” Nods from the three Ankarrahi. “What’s his last name?” I ask.
“His full name is Shavix S’Renti. He has been living on Ankarrah since before your beginning, Finley,” Keziry explains.
“Do you guys have last names as well?” Brian asks, still looking at Keziry.
“No. It is uncommon for Ankarrahi to have more than one name. There are only one of each name on our world. We have no need for last names,” she says.
“Then why does Shavix?” I ask.
“How do you guys know what names are taken?” Brent’s words cut over mine.
“We keep a registry of names. Once someone dies, that name can then be reused. But there is only one person per name on Ankarrah,” Keziry says.
“Man, that would have been nice growing up. We had three girls named Amy, four Jennifers, and five Ashleys in my school. And they never spelled their names the same way. It was awful,” Brian adds.
Brockten, Keziry, and Drake all look horrified. “Names are deeply personal on Ankarrah. That is why there are no repeating names.” Brockten shudders.
“So, if Jessica has two names, does that mean he is not Ankarrahi?” I want to know.
“He has never answered that question for us. But, to be fair, we have never asked that question either. Asking that personal of a question to someone in higher authority is the height of ill-grace and manners.” Keziry looks like she’s stepped in a pile of fresh dog poop.
“It’s a pretty common question around here. Sorry for offending you,” I say. “In other news, did you know who I was when Hunter and I were in Ankarrah? You know, like two days ago?”
“No,” All three Ankarrahi answer together.
Stepping forward from their small huddle, Keziry clears her throat. Lifting her right hand, touching her index finger to her forehead, and bowing her head slightly, she says, “Mistress Fyndrexia, please accept our most humble apologies for not recognizing you earlier. We were unaware of your being alive, but that should not happ—”
“I’m going to stop you right there.” I lift my hand at her. “Pull the stick out of your butt and just talk to me. What’s going on? What’s with the formal greeting?”
Brockten looks a little scandalized, probably because I’ve interrupted his boss. Drake looks like he’s about to wrap me in his arms and plant a big, sloppy one on me. I suppress a shudder.
But I really dislike formal, uptight women. Men, too, really. Formal and uptight are my least favorite kinds of humans—er, humanoids.
Keziry smiles at me.
Dang it! I really need to get this mental shield thing figured out.
“Thank you, Finley. I do apologize. As the Captain of House Guard One, I should have recognized you.”
“Why? You’ve never met me before, and I’m pretty sure my picture isn’t plastered all over what passes for social media on Ankarrah,” I say.
“I’ve heard of that, but don’t understand why people would do it willingly. They should have better things to do with their time.” He winks at me as he slides closer.
“A platform online in which people share way too many intimate details about their personal lives,” Brent offers.
“Online?” Keziry asks.
“Yes. Like our ISS systems,” Drake answers.
Keziry and Brockten both nod, their expressions thoughtful.
“How do you know so much about our world?” I ask Drake.
Hunter interrupts him. “Back to Finley’s question.”
Drake winks at me again.
“We have a picture of you from when you were very young. Your beginning was a world celebration,” Keziry explains.
Just the thought of that makes me want to punch people and yak on their shoes.
Snickers sounds from every single person in the room. All my boys know me well enough to know that I would hate that with a passion deep in my soul. And I can only assume the Native Three read my mind again.
“Yes, shoe yakking would be an acceptable response.” Drake smiles at me.
Hunter growls at him again, while pulling me into his side. I have no idea what’s going on between them. I’ve made myself pretty clear in that I’m only interested in Hunter. The rest they’ll need to work out between them.
“So, you have pictures of me as a newborn?” I ask Keziry, shoving the two squabbling men from my mind.
“Indeed. You were a very cute, fat baby.” She chuckles.
“Thanks.”
“You are most welc
ome.”
I don’t know if this woman understands sarcasm.
“Sarcasm is not used on Ankarrah,” Drake answers.
“Dude! Stop reading my mind!” I shout at him.
“Stop projecting, and we will not be able to read it.” He quirks an eyebrow at me.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. We’re trying to get to that point. You were explaining how you knew my fa…er, sperm donor?”
“Sperm donor.” Drake chuckles. “We know Shavix is your sperm donor because all mergings are recorded.”
“Seriously, how do you know about our phrases and sarcasm and social media? Have you been here before?” I ask Drake.
Another sly wink.
“How did you come to be informants for Shavix?” Brent asks, talking right over me once again.
“My father, Peprange, is his Master at Arms,” Keziry answers.
“How did you end up working for the House Guard for Anixia then?” Brent asks.
The three Ankarrahi look positively hostile. “The House Guard does not serve Anixia,” Keziry snarls. “We serve the Ankarrahi people.”
“Then who gives you orders?” Brent asks.
“The Trium.”
“The try-um?”
“Yes.” She nods her head. “Anixia was once a member of the Trium. She was One of Three.”
“Oh.” The light bulb goes on over my head. “Like a triumvirate. Three rulers for an entire region.” I nod. “Gotcha.”
“Of course,” Keziry says tightly.
“The Trium are the highest in power, both by beginning and acquired power,” Brockten explains.
“So, a lot of corruption and abuse in your legal system, huh?” Brent asks.
“No. The Trium only rule on matters of world-defense, Ankah Health, and public welfare. Clans oversee policing their people.” Keziry says.
“What about wages, or poverty, or healthcare, or gun control, or sexual orientation?” Brent lists off issues rapid-fire.
“We have no wages, but an open barter system. You trade with others for what you need. Everyone is expected to contribute to the betterment of society. We have no poverty because everyone has something to offer. We have no healthcare because our bodies allow us to heal ourselves and we never get sick. I have no idea what guns are, or sexual orientation is,” Keziry explains.
“Wow. So, what all is involved in being a House Guard?” I ask her.
“We provide defense to our borders, both on and off Ankah. Ankarrah is rich in many minerals and metals that allow us to trade with other worlds. It also makes us targets from attacks—from both inside and outside our borders,” Keziry explains.
Drake and Brockten simply nod.
“Fascinating,” Brent says. “What happens when someone doesn’t contribute to the betterment of the society as a whole?”
“They are Cast Out. There is a small portion of our world that has been sectioned off away from everyone else. What they do there is up to them. We suffer no drains on our society. We would not be as prosperous as we are without the input of each of our citizens,” Keziry says. It sounds like she’s ready to hear some arguments from us.
“That sounds like a fair way to live. I wish Earth was more like that. Especially in terms of wages and poverty,” Brian says.
Keziry’s whole body loses some of its starch. Her spine relaxes, and her shoulders drop back down.
Brockten raises his hand.
Everyone goes quiet.
“What are guns and sexual orientation?” Brockten asks.
I catch Drake rolling his eyes where Keziry and Brockten can’t see him.
“Guns are the predominant weapon here on Earth.” I hold up a finger.
The guys and I give them a quick and dirty lesson on guns. I get mine out of my gun safe for show and tell.
“And to answer your other question, Brockten, some of our men and women are attracted to others of their own genders.”
A variety of expressions cross Keziry and Brockten’s faces. Drake looks like he’s about to burst out laughing.
“Ankarrahi are…how did you put it?...heterosexual,” Keziry declares.
“That’s a pretty blanket statement for an entire world of people,” Josh says.
Keziry shrugs and clears her throat, shaking her shoulders as if throwing off a great weight. “We have come to begin teaching you how to use your powers,” she smirks the last word. “Adira is what we call them. There are three common adira traits for all Ankarrahi: telepathy, shifting, Psy-Matrix.”
“Anixia mentioned the Psy-Matrix. Hunter found me there after I passed out from healing him,” I mention.
“You healed Hunter?” Brockten asks, his face almost showing a full expression.
Oh, crap. This can’t end well if Brockten spoke up so quickly. I look at him. Now I’m not sure I should have said anything. I peek at Hunter from the corner of my eye. His nod is so small I almost miss it.
I clear my throat. “Yeah. We walked through a blue, electrical net thingy after we were kidnapped, and his nervous system began fracturing,” I explain. I hold my breath waiting for their reaction.
Keziry and Brockten are having a serious stare-down with each other. I can only asume they are communicating telepathically. Drake is busy staring at me, a glint in his eyes. Having his undivided attention causes my stomach to swirl uncomfortably.
“Have you ever healed anyone before Hunter?” Keziry asks. She looks around the room. Her eyes resting on Brian for an instant longer than anyone else.
“She’s healed me.” Josh raises his hand in an awkward wave. “I got shot, and she put me back together.”
“No one else?” Keziry asks quickly.
“No, just those two,” I answer.
“Have you noticed any changes in your adira?”
“What changes should I have noticed?”
“Anything. Getting fatigued more quickly; an increase in range of effect; speed in accessing and using adira. Anything at all.”
“I’m not sure that I’ve used my adira since then. At least intentionally,” I answer her.
“Finley-babe…you went all Cyclops on Whittier,” Brian says, pride evident in his voice.
All eyes are back on me. I try to keep from squirming.
“What does that mean?” Keziry asks.
“He’s a superhero from the X-Men.” Brian crosses his arms in an X in front of his chest.
“She shot a piece of white thread into a bad guy and he erupted like a volcano before turning into ash,” Josh says, explaining before Brian could lead into a three-hour discussion on the inhabitants of the Marvel Universe.
“Please explain this white thread, volcano, and ash,” Keziry says impatiently.
“When I was a rage monster,” I see a smile stretch across Drake’s face, “my vision turned white, and I floated off the floor. When I went to defend myself, a piece of white energy ran from my palm into this man. Once the white energy was inside him, his body began erupting from the inside out. It was full of a thick, viscous black-colored goo. After all the black was gone, he just evaporated, like snow falling to the ground before it freezes,” I explain. “He was literally a pile of particles left on my floor.”
Drake looks around on the floor. He looks a little disappointed after a second.
“Have you done anything like that before?” Keziry asks.
“No, not the turning-someone-to-ash part anyway. My vision went white when I found my parents on the floor.” I swallow harshly, the sound loud in the silence. “Anixia had already killed them by the time I made it back from Ankarrah. She slaughtered them.” I can feel the rage backing up my throat once again. The edges of my vision begin bursting with color. I try to take some deep breaths.
“Was their blood decorating your walls? Drenching your floors?” Drake asks, glee in his voice.
“Drake, stop this at once. You don’t speak to her that way,” Keziry orders.
I just blink at him, my brain struggling to catch up.
&n
bsp; “You’d better watch yourself, Drake. You’re already on shaky ground. You do not want to push me over the edge,” Hunter says quietly.
“Did she dance around the room, slashing at their bodies? Did you hear her laughter as she butchered them?” Drake asks, ignoring Hunter completely.
How could he possibly know what happened here?
My vision flares white; I can feel an unseen wind thrash my hair, whipping the strands around my head. My toes leave the floor.
All the colors of the rainbow emanate from the bodies around me. Most of the colors are rimmed in red, tinged with oranges and yellows. The colors of anger and hate.
Drake’s Spectrum has a fuzzy quality I’ve never seen before. Instead of the normal seamless blending, his appears almost pixelated. A coal-colored center begins to heat. It’s like looking at the base of a bonfire right before it begins to blaze.
Two jewel-toned rainbows step from the group, their colors sharp and bright. Emerald and amethyst are the dominant colors for Keziry—the colors echoing her bi-hued eyes. Her Spectrum flares as her body shifts, growing taller once again.
Dark midnight blue and lapis twist and twine around each other in a mesmerizing swirl of blues. Brockten’s huge frame has shifted again, his head almost touching my ceiling.
“What the hell is going on?” Brent’s tight voice slices through the tension like he’s delivering the final remarks at trial.
“Anixia took them from you. Ripped their lives away as if they were trash. Simply pieces on her playing board, to be thrown around the room when you disobeyed her,” Drake cackles.
“Lieutenant Drake, stop,” Keziry orders him again.
“Your fake parents were nothing to her. They were less than nothing to her. Garbage of which to dispose to create space for more important things…like her pottery collection,” he sneers.
I can feel tendrils of energy move around my body, snaking around my torso and limbs as if they’re alive. Threading and weaving in and through my body, I can feel the adira in a way I never have before. The pulse and pump of it heats inside my veins. Every molecule of my body feels alive.
“Is this what happened to her previously?” I can feel Keziry’s words slide through my mind at the same time the sound of them hits my ears.