The Druid Gene

by Jennifer Foehner Wells

  After another beat, she said, “Would you be so kind as to lock the prisoner up so the hymenoptera can retrieve their eggs from that chamber?”

  He inclined his head in a courtly manner and hopped down from his perch. “I’m happy to serve, as always, mistress.”

  She nodded slightly, then returned to her work, stabbing a box of sterile tips with her pipette.

  Raub started to go, then turned around. “Have you decided on a name for this cadre?” he asked her lightly.

  “No, I have not.” She didn’t sound perturbed. She couldn’t. But there was an agitation in her demeanor that he enjoyed.

  “Might I suggest a name?”

  Hain’s mouth parted to reveal a hint of its brilliant interior—her version of a surprised look and something she rarely let slip. As a ginnan, she had no teeth or tongue. Instead, yellow markings shaped like petals whorled down her throat in a golden spiral, so that when her mouth was held open wide, it resembled a flower in bloom. Her ancestors had evolved the stunning pattern, as well as a sweet woodsy odor, to lure nectar-seeking prey close. Trapped by a caustic, sticky resin, they had become slowly digested meals for Hain’s stationary antecedents. The pattern was now a vestigial artifact of evolution. “Yes,” she said finally, her eyes wary.

  “Call them Darcy.” He smirked and, without acknowledging the hymenoptera, left the chamber, heading back to the quarters he shared with the girl. He strolled, taking his time and enjoying the distress that caused his “guards.” There were few things more farcical than watching a grown bug squirm. With so little to entertain him, he had to steal these moments when he could.

  16

  Darcy was sitting against the wall across from the hymenoptera eggs, dozing, when something woke her. She yawned and shifted her stiff limbs. Then she noticed something had changed. She perked up and eased closer to the eggs. They weren’t jiggling the way they normally did. They vibrated with a different kind of intensity.

  She picked up one of the more active ones cautiously. There was definitely something happening inside there. One of the ends of the egg had grown more transparent, and, as she watched, she could see a mouth gnawing on the membrane, attempting to free itself.

  Her heart pounded against her rib cage. For the first time, it occurred to her that when these things hatched they were going to be hungry—and she had nothing to feed them except half a food cube.

  She’d expected Raub or the hymenoptera to be there when they hatched. She wondered fleetingly if the hymenoptera had planned this to happen this way. Was she meant to be the first food these critters consumed? Was this their revenge for killing their brethren?

  She recognized those first few moments of anxiety as potentially triggering a panic attack and forced herself to breathe slowly—in through her mouth, out through her nose, just like she did when she meditated. The jangly feeling started to recede, her tension eased, and she was able to think logically rather than emotionally.

  These things were smaller than her forearm. She could step on them if she had to. She wouldn’t, of course. But she wasn’t about to be eaten alive. She could leave the room or hide in her own sleeping cell if she felt threatened.

  Nevertheless, when the rasping mouth finally did break through, she set the egg down and edged away. But she couldn’t stop watching as a translucent creature emerged. It appeared to be eyeless and bristled with sparse, white hairs. Its body was long and segmented. It had a mouth at one end, but tapered and curled into itself at the other. Its skin was so transparent she could see the dark blobs of internal organs at its core. It undulated and twisted, its mouth contracting rhythmically, searching for food, but it didn’t make a move toward her.

  She was surprised no one had come to care for them. Perhaps she wasn’t watched as closely as she’d presumed. She began to feel sorry for it as it blindly and fruitlessly searched for sustenance on the dirty floor. She took a small hunk of the food cube and crumbled it in the palm of her hand, then poured a little water in with it. She mashed it around to make a watery paste, then hesitantly extended her hand to the larva.

  Instantly, it dove at her hand. She gasped and pulled back, her heart racing. But she was fine. She hadn’t even felt the graze of teeth.

  Cautiously, she proffered her hand again. It slurped at the slurry in the hollow of her palm. It was actually quite gentle. It tickled. She broke into a smile and relaxed a little bit. She could see the mixture sliding through the creature’s alimentary canal in pulses of peristalsis. It delicately sucked her hand clean.

  The larva moved less restlessly now, more like it was simply exploring its environment. She felt a warm, maternal surge of satisfaction at having cared for the infant. Then she looked up and realized several more had hatched while she was paying attention to the first one. They were rooting around frantically amongst the intact eggs and the discarded rubbery shells.

  She didn’t know if the food was suitable for them or not, but she assumed it was some kind of universal chow. So she mixed some more with water and held out her hand to the newest hatchlings.

  “There you go,” she said, and giggled as they formed a ring around her hand, pushing and shoving at each other and sucking up the mixture as fast as she could make it. She touched a fingertip to one of them. Its skin was cool and moist and smooth, not gross or slimy like she expected. The white hairs that stood straight out were soft, like kitten whiskers. She was so entranced by watching them eat that she didn’t hear the door slide open behind her.

  “Halt!” a voice clacked loudly in her ear. “Move away from the young!”

  She froze, her shoulders hunching, expecting the paralyzing feeling of the shock stick to descend on her at any moment. But it didn’t come. Instead she heard rapid-fire clicks and clacks that sounded distressed. She made out a few phrases here and there, like, “This is disastrous,” and “What will we tell the queen?” and “We may have to fertilize another cadre.”

  Darcy slowly stood and turned, confused. “They’re hungry.” She looked down. Seven larvae crowded at her feet, craning up at her, bobbing and weaving and caroming into each other, looking for more food.

  Raub stood there smirking, with four hymenoptera behind him, all gesticulating nervously and clacking nonstop.

  “You had no right!” one of them said.

  “They needed care! If you’re so concerned, why did you leave them without anyone to watch over them?”

  More consternated pops and clacks. “This is the way of things. It’s not your concern. You interfered.”

  She sneered at them. “I—you—I—that’s rich.”

  “Back away from the young,” someone ordered.

  Another gestured toward Raub. “This one will escort you away now, so we may tend to the young.”

  Raub came forward and led her through the door into the hub. “Come, Leebska. Let them retrieve their little grubworms and begone.”

  She looked over her shoulder to see the hymenoptera gathering the eggs and hatchlings and tossing them carelessly into a crude container. She wished they’d treat them gently. “What are they going to do with them?” she asked Raub fearfully. “Will they kill them just because I touched them? I was trying to help!”

  He frowned at her then gestured for the hymenoptera’s attention. “Your mistress is in the foulest of moods. It’ll not be in your best interests to reveal this oversight. I’ll not say a word to her about it, and I’d advise all of you to do the same. The human female only handled a small percentage of the grubs and did not cause any harm to them. It should not affect the psychology of the cadre.”

  The adult hymenoptera stopped what they were doing and looked at each other skeptically. One of them turned to him and said, “Why would you do this? What do you want in return?”

  “I want nothing—from you. I’ve been campaigning for more freedom and more-comfortable living quarters. If you anger Hain further, I doubt she’ll feel generous enough to grant my request.”

  There was a general grumb
ling among the insects as they moved into a tight circle to discuss the issue. They came to a decision quickly and turned as one. “We agree with your assessment. We will not tax the mistress’s patience with this petty mishap. It will be well.”

  Darcy breathed a little easier. The insects resumed gathering the eggs and larvae and then left, shutting the door between them, locking them in.

  17

  When Raub came for Darcy that night, she was ready for him. Instead of catching up on sleep, she’d spent the dark time planning a strategy. They were unevenly matched and she was tired of always coming out on the bottom. In the past she’d managed to gain the upper hand for a while, and a few times she’d even thrown him, but she was rarely able to pin him, unless they were practicing a specific pinning technique. It was time to turn the tables and the only way to do that was with the element of surprise.

  She lay there, breathing slowly and deeply as though she were asleep. When his hand reached in to tap her foot to wake her, she grabbed it and yanked hard to throw him off-balance. Then she swooped her feet out and down, making contact with his head and neck and knocking him out of the way as she slid down to her feet.

  She followed the sound of his movement. He hadn’t vocalized yet, but she could hear his footfalls as he staggered away. She moved in, alternating punches and kicks, and made contact with his midsection. She heard the satisfying hiss of the air being knocked out of him, but she knew that wasn’t enough. She had to keep pressing the advantage. It wouldn’t last long. He’d recover from that blow quickly.

  She kept moving, building momentum. She crouched low and swept her leg with all her strength. She managed to get the timing right and he fell on his ass. Now she knew for certain where his body was, but not any of his limbs. She wasn’t sure if he was sprawled out on his back or sitting. She kicked low, finding only air, and crouched into a low side kick where she hoped his head or chest might be.

  It was a miscalculation. He grabbed her leg and twisted her off her feet. She rolled and slammed into the wall. Bright white stars dotted her field of vision. She heard his grunt of satisfaction and didn’t let herself stop to feel the pain. She followed the sound he’d made and launched herself at him with a roundhouse kick, then hopped back out of range. She seemed to have caught him just as he was getting to his feet.

  He growled, soft and low, and she braced herself in a defensive stance, ears straining. He was coming. All her advantage was gone and he was pissed.

  She realized she was smiling. It was weird how much she’d grown to enjoy these sessions. The fact that she’d actually caught him off guard and even knocked him down felt like such a victory. She’d enjoy it while she could, because she was about to get her ass kicked.

  She was expecting punitive punches and kicks, but he’d decided to mix it up too, because he barreled into her, pinning her to the wall. All the breath went out of her in a whoosh. As she struggled to breathe and worm her way out of his tenacious grip, she realized something was very different about the hold he was using.

  She squirmed, trying to suck in air, and he held her even tighter. She’d naively triggered something in him, something she didn’t really want to experience. “Raub?” she uttered in a strangled whisper.

  He was bigger and heavier. He leveraged that weight at an angle, his upper body pressing into her chest, his hands pinioning her wrists on either side of her head. He crushed her. She could only breathe in shallow gasps.

  She waited for him to release her and give her a harsh lecture. He didn’t.

  She wrenched and twisted, but his grasp was relentless. At some point during the fight her loose ponytail had slipped out, leaving her hair hanging over her shoulders. Raub’s face was pressed against the base of her neck, his breath fanning over her skin.

  Something wasn’t right. He didn’t normally get winded just from sparring with her.

  His tongue, cool and moist, licked her from collarbone to earlobe in one long, slow motion. She shuddered and a strange, cold sensation spread through her body.

  Pins and needles rippled through her extremities. She saw a faint blue glow in her peripheral vision. She opened her mouth, but no words would come out, just a startled wheeze.

  She wondered for a second if she should scream. If the hymenoptera came, would that be better or worse?

  Should she struggle harder or just go limp? If she shocked him, would she kill him, as she had the hymenoptera? Should she reason with him? What would make this end?

  She’d read once that anxious people actually do better in times of crisis than most because they’ve imagined bad things happening so many times that they instinctively know how to act when shit gets real. She’d felt reassured about choosing medicine as a career after reading that and never doubted that she could handle anything thrown her way, even if she ultimately chose a path that led her to work in the ER or the surgical suite.

  Her heart was pounding out of her chest, but her head was cooling and she forced herself to stop struggling. As calmer thoughts prevailed, the blue glow in the margins of her vision receded. That was good. She was gaining control over it. She could call it back if she needed to. She hoped she wouldn’t have to.

  It was the fight that had brought this on. She wouldn’t give him any more fight.

  She should have known. He liked the fight too much. She’d been aware of an increasing sexual tension between them, especially as her skills had improved, but she’d dismissed it because he seemed to dislike her so much and they were different species, after all. That had been naive. She couldn’t really say she knew him or what he was capable of.

  His mouth was open wide against her neck, sharp teeth pressing into her skin, tongue lapping at the curve where her neck met her shoulder. He vibrated with a low growl that rumbled through her upper body.

  She was acutely aware that if he simply clamped down his jaw and pulled back, he could rip open her jugular vein and her life would drain away within minutes. She wondered if he knew that, if that was an implicit threat to keep her quiet.

  His skin was cool to the touch, like always, but there was something pulsing and twitching rhythmically against her thigh. She’d never seen him naked, but knew instinctively that he could use that unseen appendage against her. She didn’t want to find out how that would work. She shoved that repulsive thought aside and focused.

  She pushed away the paralyzed feeling and let her body sag, forcing him to hold her up against gravity as dead weight. She swallowed convulsively and worked spittle into her mouth so she could speak. “I don’t want this,” she croaked. Then she cleared her throat to try again. She couldn’t sound the slightest bit hysterical. “No. It’s time to stop.” She sounded stronger the second time, matter-of-fact, dispassionate.

  He barely loosened his jaw and spoke around his mouthful of her neck. “Come now, Leebska. I won’t hurt you. Much.” She couldn’t see his face, couldn’t read his intention. She sensed there was some humor there. Maybe he hadn’t completely gone off the deep end.

  Possible options spun through her brain. She kept her limbs slack, though she longed to tense up and fight. He’d slowed down. Maybe it was finally sinking in that she wasn’t fighting anymore.

  He pushed her arms up, extending them straight over her head until they touched. He ground her wrists together with one hand while the other clicked the button to loosen the jumpsuit and slipped over her, pulling her garment away until it stretched open to her groin.

  “No!” she commanded. “Don’t do this.”

  Her shoulders ached and her arms burned with the strain of holding all her weight, though dangling her aloft by her wrists seemed to be effortless for him. He eased his upper body back slightly and she breathed deeply, to get enough oxygen, to be ready to fight again.

  It no longer seemed likely he’d set her loose and lecture her on her dreadful tactics. She refused to be his victim. She would not allow him to violate her.

  He groped her.

  She brought her knee st
raight up in a sudden, forceful jab, point-blank into his throbbing junk.

  His teeth tightened on her neck and for a terrible moment she thought that was the end. She squeezed her eyes closed and tensed up, waiting for it. But it didn’t come.

  “No means no,” she grated out. Her voice sounded raspy and she berated herself. She didn’t know for sure what he would find sexy. Clearly, he was hot for aggression from females.

  His breathing was ragged. He pulled his hand away from her groin. His growl quieted. But his teeth were still set into her neck and he kept her suspended there.

  He laughed, a quiet wheezing sound, and she felt his teeth release their grip on her skin.

  A fat tear rolled down her cheek. She sniffed and looked up into the dark overhead in a vain attempt to control her emotions.

  She could feel his breath on her face, knew that he was examining her, though she had no idea how much detail he could see in such pitch-black conditions.

  Without warning, he released her and she fell to the floor, limbs flailing. The sound was so loud in the absolute stillness that it felt like a bomb had gone off. Instantly, she pulled her garment up over her breasts and simultaneously down over her knees. She huddled against the wall, knees drawn to her chest, tears flowing freely. She covered her mouth with her hand so she wouldn’t sob aloud, her body shuddering as the adrenaline subsided.

  She felt him brush against her arm as he settled down next to her. She froze. There was nowhere to run or hide from him. If he made another move, she’d scream bloody murder and bring the hymenoptera running to separate them while she fought him off with every dirty trick she could conceive of.

  If that didn’t work, she’d use the blue light before she’d submit to him, no matter the cost. She wasn’t going to keep being a victim.

  “Your offensive was strong, initially, but that single blunder cost you dearly. Had I been a real predator, you’d have been raped and murdered five times over by now, Leebska,” he murmured into her ear, calmly, thoughtfully. Then he continued more urgently, “You must know your opponent, anticipate every possible approach. You cannot hold back. Once you lost the advantage, your defense crumbled, utterly. You knew what needed to be done. Why did you wait so long to change your strategy?”