The ground rushed to meet us. The individual clumps of vegetation fused together into an emerald smear. My kundalini noir vibrated like a tuning fork, pulsating ever faster the closer we approached.
I strained to rotate my eyeballs as far up as they could to track our point of impact. The side of the building filled my field of view, and my kundalini noir compressed in anticipation of the crash.
A square window opened and we sailed through. We were bathed in brilliant white light. The cage abruptly stopped and snapped open. Jolie and I tumbled forward, to spin on our bellies across a hard floor.
The paralysis gone, I extended my arms to halt my rotation, and once I had stopped, I lay with my face against the cool tile floor. Everything remained out of focus; my eyeballs still quivering in their orbits.
Jolie lay sprawled beside me.
My vision slowly clearing, I lifted my head to take in our surroundings. We were in a gigantic atrium made of translucent orange material. A matrix of white lamps hung from the curved ceiling. Rows of balconies terraced the walls. Everything seemed made of the orange stuff.
Jolie sat up, her parts jiggling. She blinked, no doubt as dazed and astounded as I was.
A rapid, slapping noise drew our attention, and we turned to face it.
Someone sprinted toward us … a woman as far as I could tell, dressed in a white tunic, the soles of her bare feet swatting the glossy floor. Her legs pumped between folds in the tunic. She shrieked, her voice very much human.
I rose to a crouch. She lunged at me, snagging my neck and knocking me over. She hooked Jolie’s neck and fell on top of us, pulling us close until our heads bumped. Her shriek softened into sobs of joy and then into laughter. Smooth, firm hands caressed my torso and neck. Moist kisses slid over my face. Curls of black hair tickled my skin. Fangs raked across my shoulders and throat. Her red vampire eyes glistened with elation and darted from me to Jolie. My kundalini noir melted with a welcome and familiar warmth.
Our vampire host sat back and squashed Jolie and me to her breast with a superhuman hug. “What took you so fucking long to get here?”
We had found Carmen.
***
Chapter Nineteen
Carmen Arellano held us close, and I surrendered to gratitude. Despite the odds, Jolie and I had found her. The years of guilt over losing Carmen evaporated, and I soaked in the heat and cheer of the moment.
Carmen let go and sat back. Her dark eyes pulled at us, shiny and irresistible as polished magnets. Her cheeks were flush, steaming with happiness. The white gown clinging to the curves of her physique did nothing to stifle her provocative vibe. Except that her hair was shorter—her tresses barely raked her shoulders—she looked the same as I remembered her. Sleek. Sexy. Seductive.
She helped Jolie and me get to our feet. “How did you guys get here?” Her voice was giddy.
Jolie and I took turns telling her about Coyote and the psychic portal.
“Coyote?” Carmen asked, brow furrowed, her eyebrows tilting. “Never heard of him. And how did he know I was here?”
“He knew the aliens had taken you, plus he can access the psychic plane,” I answered. “Have you had a dream or a feeling that someone was reaching out to you?”
“I wish I had, but no. I spent many days and nights praying someone would find me. Maybe that’s what Coyote heard, though I don’t understand how.” Her eyes turned from me to Jolie. “This portal that brought you here, is that how we get home?” she asked, her voice hopeful.
Jolie and I glanced at each other.
“Not sure,” I answered, trying to keep an optimistic tone. “Getting here was a one-shot deal, and we had to leave before Coyote could explain how to return using a portal.”
“Had to leave?” Carmen deadpanned. “I’m getting the impression there’s trouble back home.”
I went on to tell her about Phaedra, the vampire civil war, Coyote’s injuries, and Cress Tech. At the mention of Cress Tech, Carmen’s lips pursed angrily and her eyes slit. They were the reason why she was here. Jolie finished bringing her up to speed on events back home. Carmen winced and blinked as she took in this synopsis of our bad news.
She shook her head. “Phaedra? You mean a sixteen-year-old has the Araneum on the ropes?”
“Not just any sixteen-year-old.” I described her powers.
Carmen wrinkled her nose like she needed more convincing.
Jolie added. “Remember Phyllis and Natacha De Brancovan?” She drew a finger across her throat. “Both of them. Phaedra’s doing.”
Carmen’s eyebrows nicked upward.
“And that’s the other reason we’re here,” Jolie added. “To bring you back so you can help us defeat her.”
“How?”
Jolie shrugged. She pointed at me. “Ask genius over there.”
I also shrugged. “Coyote only said you were needed.”
“I don’t understand,” Carmen replied. “But that doesn’t matter unless we can get back to Earth.”
I studied the atrium. The immaculate floor was as large as a football field. The window we had flown through was about fifty feet up on the wall and was now covered by a pane of the orange crystal material. Dozens of doors stood equally spaced behind the balconies.
“Are we on D-Galtha?” I asked.
“You are,” Carmen said. “How did you know the name?” Before I could answer, she replied, “I know … Coyote.” She spread her arms. “Welcome to D-Galtha, which means in the local language: Planet Pleasure.”
Our surroundings gave me the creeps. “Planet Pleasure? Then why am I not feeling amorous?”
“Is this a prison?” Jolie asked, adding her heebie-jeebies to mine.
“Technically, Facility Two-Four,” Carmen said. “But in reality, yes it’s a prison.”
“Run by who?” Jolie pressed.
“The Nancharm.” Carmen cocked her head toward the distance. “Have you seen those red-and-yellow creatures outside? They run D-Galtha.”
I gave Carmen the once-over. “Planet Pleasure and you. I’m not surprised, but what’s the connection?”
Carmen replied with an uneasy smile. “There will be plenty of time to answer that question. But for now …” Her gaze ranged over our naked bodies. “Oh my, I never dreamt that you guys would arrive so perfectly—undressed.”
“It was unintentional,” I explained.
“Don’t be modest,” Carmen said. “To be fair.” She lifted her tunic and flashed us her toned body, the choice parts deliciously firm or delicately coiffed. She dropped the hem and started walking toward a door at the far wall. “Both of you look fantastic.”
“As do you,” Jolie replied, grinning.
“How much of our superpowers do we have?” I asked. “We can’t see auras but we can levitate. How about you?”
“We retain our speed and strength,” Carmen replied, “but don’t use them unless you have to. Let’s not tip off the Nancharm about what we can do.”
A door slid open in front of Carmen. We passed over the threshold and into a hall. The walls were painted in pastel hues, a blue carpet covered the floor, and bright flowers (at least I thought they were flowers) stood in vases on console tables. The colors were a welcome relief from all the orange in the atrium.
“These are my private quarters.” Carmen continued through another doorway and into what resembled a luxury hotel suite. A young woman in a silken robe lay asleep on a chaise longue.
I raised an eyebrow.
“That’s Juanita,” Carmen said. “My chalice.”
“One of the women you were kidnapped with?” I asked.
“No. None of them are on D-Galtha.” Carmen’s expression took a sad cast. “Truth is, abducted women seldom survive, wherever they are sent. They might live in opulence but they go mad with loneliness and either waste away or kill themselves.”
“There’s another alien home besides D-Galtha?”
“Hundreds,” Carmen replied.
“And Juanita?�
� I asked.
Carmen gave her a sanguine look. “I didn’t ask for chalices, but the Nancharm brought them to me anyway, knowing that I need the sustenance.”
“There are more?”
“The other three are in their rooms.”
“And you? What’s kept you from losing it?”
“Two things. One is the hope that I will be rescued, and here you are. And two, I have an important job.”
“Job?”
A chime interrupted.
Carmen said, “This way,” and ushered us back to the atrium.
One of the Nancharm waited for us, large white eyes glaring from its cylindrical head, with a small gray box sitting on top like a cap. A hover scooter floated behind the creature, and on the back end rested a wire crate with our clothes and belongings … including our pistols.
The creature’s dreadlocks began to undulate and a moment later, a surprisingly dainty voice emitted from the box. “Carmen, I trust your friends are doing well?”
Carmen slapped my naked butt. “Go on,” she whispered, “pretend you have manners.”
I acted like I was tipping a hat, as coyly as I could considering my junk was on display. “Thank you for the hospitality.”
Jolie did a little bow.
“This is Doctor Moots.” Carmen spread her arms to encompass the building. “This is her research laboratory.”
Her? I studied Moots the way I would an exotic zoo creature. Her torso looked smooth and hard, and her body articulated in sections like an exoskeleton. Her thin arms and hands were coarsely textured and swayed in graceful sinuous movements. But I saw no evidence of female parts. She seemed to communicate through her dreadlocks and used the gray box on her head as a translator.
She crooked a finger, and the scooter drifted around her and toward us. “I brought your ornamental coverings and toys.”
“You mean our clothes?” Jolie asked.
“The Nancharm don’t understand human modesty.” Carmen glanced at me and pointed to the crate.
I took the crate and placed it on the floor. “Isn’t she curious about why we’re here?”
Moots’ cluster of dreadlocks spread like the tentacles of a sea anemone, and after a short delay, her voice emitted from the gray box. “You are guests of Carmen, no? To help with our research, no?”
“Of course,” Carmen answered.
Planet Pleasure research?
Moots waved her spaghetti arms. “I do wish someone would tell me when new specimens arrive.”
Specimens? That didn’t sound good.
“Next time,” she continued, her voice cross, “please advise your friends not to wander off the Path of Conformity. I get charged by the Safety and Aesthetics Patrol every time they return a specimen, and my anal chute is already taking enough of a pounding from the Budget Oversight Committee.”
The hover scooter lowered to the floor, and Moots glided onboard. “We’ve dawdled enough for one day.” The scooter lifted and floated to a door that scrolled open on the side of the atrium. “We’ll get a fresh start tomorrow. Be ready.”
***
Chapter Twenty
Moots drove her hover scooter out the building and onto the paved apron outside. A door on the ground swung upward, and she floated down the opening. The door closed after her.
Carmen stared blankly at where Moots had disappeared.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Moots mentioned something about research and specimens. What research?—”
“… And what specimens?” Jolie pointed at herself. “Us?”
Suddenly glum, Carmen’s let her shoulders droop. Witnessing her spirit sag caused a sharp pit in my gut.
“It will probably be best for me to start at the beginning.” She gestured to the crate with our belongings. “Get dressed if you want.”
Jolie and I plucked our clothes and began to put them on. Carmen gazed in our direction, but the distracted look in her eyes revealed her mind was elsewhere.
I pulled on my pants, feeling more at ease because I was no longer naked. “I know the aliens had trapped you in suspended animation and teleported you off Earth.”
Jolie had her panties and tank top on and was slipping into her jeans. “And you’ve been here since?”
Carmen shook her head. “First I was sent to a processing center with all kinds of weird creatures—both in and out of cages. Then I was pinballed from planet to planet until I got here a few months ago.” She named the places she’d been, using awkward sounds like grunts, whistles, and clucks.
I asked, “Weren’t you considered contraband?”
“As if that made a difference. The penalties against interplanetary smuggling are a joke. Smuggling contraband out of a quarantine zone like Earth is illegal. But once contraband is in circulation, trafficking in it is not against their law. Figure that out.”
I buttoned my shirt. “I thought the Galactic Union put Earth under quarantine because humans were too warlike and a threat to the rest of the galaxy.”
“True.” Carmen pointed a finger in emphasis. “The quarantine was put in place to keep advanced technology away from humans. Compared to the rest of the galaxy, humans are still in the Stone Age, and the Union aims to keep it that way.”
Jolie smirked. “So we’re a danger?”
“Don’t get carried away by that thought,” Carmen replied. “The Nancharm are the bad asses of the Union. They want something, they take it. This planet used to belong to another species, a rather advanced one. The Nancharm offered a deal, which the inhabitants refused.” She turned her eyes toward the door and the sky beyond. “You noticed the planet’s ring. That’s what is left of them. After demolishing their cities, the Nancharm blasted the debris into space as a monument to the victory and as warning to everyone else. Don’t fuck with us. And in a touch of irony, renamed this planet D-Galtha: Planet Pleasure.”
I slipped on my boots and reached for the magnum revolver. It lay in the crate beside Jolie’s pistols and our ammo. I swung open the cylinder and checked that the cartridges remained chambered. I snapped the cylinder closed and tucked the revolver back into my jacket. “Trusting souls, our hosts.”
“Moots called the guns, ‘your toys,’” Carmen reminded. “For good reason. Shoot one of the Nancharm, and they’ll reassemble your molecules into dung worms.”
“Thanks for the notice,” I replied. “I’m already in deep shit.”
“Why are you here?” Jolie was dressed except for her cross trainers, holster harness, and jacket. “You couldn’t be a pet. Not if you’re helping Moots with research.”
The building’s door scrolled closed. When it thumped against the threshold, the noise echoed in the cavernous interior of the building, sounding exactly like a cell door slamming shut in a prison. Carmen extended her arms and took Jolie and me by the hand. I felt the longing in her touch. Here we were, the three of us, so far from home with no idea how to save ourselves.
Carmen kept quiet, and I waited for the familiar, mischievous twinkle to appear in her eyes. It didn’t. She let us go and exhaled, her expression heavy with melancholy and anxiety. “I’m here as the Nancharm’s last hope.”
“What?” I asked.
“Two centuries ago, the Nancharm faced a rebellion from within the Galactic Union. They barely beat the rebels, and the slim victory shook them up. As a result, the Nancharm males altered their genome to hone their warrior characteristics. Speed. Intelligence. Sensory acuity. Strength. Ruthlessness.”
“I take it things didn’t go right,” Jolie said. Like me, she didn’t get into her jacket. She carried her holster harness draped over an arm.
Carmen nodded. “They had made a deal with the devil, a devil they didn’t know even existed. It took three generations for the unintended consequences to become apparent.”
“Which are?” I asked.
“The Nancharm men lost their mojo.”
Their predicament sounded so ridiculous I snorted. “Seems like an easy fix to me. A t
rip to the drug store for the right meds.”
Carmen started back to her quarters. “Exactly, but it’s not an issue with faulty plumbing. The problem is here.” She tapped her head. “Or with the Nancharm …” She touched a spot below her neck. “This is where their brains are.”
“Basically,” I replied, “the Nancharm men can’t get it up, whatever ‘it’ is?”
“That’s correct.”
When we passed through the threshold, I estimated the size of the door, human-sized and too small for the Nancharm, and commented, “At least you get privacy.”
Carmen frowned. “They can come and go as they please. You’ll see.”
We entered her suite. Juanita was gone. At the moment, my guns seemed useless. I hung my jacket, with my revolver still inside, over the back of the loveseat.
Jolie followed my example and dropped her jacket and her holster harness close to mine. “You still haven’t told us why you’re here.”
“Apparently, I put off some kind of a sexual vibe.” Carmen at last grinned. “The aliens really get off on us Earth women. You know how dogs and cats can pacify people, somehow read your mood? Earth women have the same gift, only more so, which makes us quite valuable. And me? Apparently, I have the extra-special touch.”
She led us through another door and into a kitchen with a sink and cabinets on one end and a bar on the other. The counters and ceiling hooks glittered with shiny utensils like a display at Williams-Sonoma. My gaze ranged to the bar and its rows of bottles: scotch, rye whiskey, bourbon, vodka, gin, and tequila. All in my favorite brands. The possibility of a good cocktail smoothed my worried edges.
Jolie ran her fingers along pots and pans hanging from the ceiling and made them clatter. “What do you cook?”
“The Nancharm import all sorts of grains, fruits and vegetables, meats, fish. We grind our own flour to make bread, tortillas, and pasta. Keeps us occupied and breaks up the monotony.”
She proceeded through yet another door and into a dining room with a massive wooden table and five matching chairs. The interior was decorated in Tudor-style: lush carpets, dark paneling, heavy wooden beams, and wrought iron fixtures. Still no sign of Juanita. A man’s sport coat rested over one of the chairs. Carmen had mentioned she had other chalices and perhaps the coat belonged to one of them. If so, who? And why a sport coat?
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