Marcun

by Sadie Carter

  He moved inside, gesturing to her to follow. “As you can see there is no need to worry. No one has stolen from me or wrecked anything.”

  She stared down at the lamp that lay smashed on the floor.

  “I did that the other night.”

  “Right. Um, and you didn’t think to clean it up? It’s glass. If you stood on it with bare feet you’d cut yourself.”

  Hm, on the ship they had bots who took care of that. He should have considered that here he would need to do his own cleaning. He cursed himself for that lapse.

  “I have nothing to clean it up with.”

  “I’ll go get my broom and dustbin.”

  He should not have allowed her in his apartment. That was a foolish move. He was not used to making such simple mistakes.

  She returned quickly she held some primitive cleaning apparatus. She quickly brushed the glass into the pan while he picked up the bigger pieces.

  Eden snuck a curious look at him as she brushed up the glass. He really was a strange one. Lecturing her on safety one moment and then not even bothering to lock his door or clean up some broken glass the next. It was like he didn’t understand the most basic things and yet he wasn’t stupid. Far from it.

  She finished and looked around for more shards. Seemed to be clear. Nope, there was one more glinting in the light. She reached for it without thinking and sliced her finger on the sharp edge.

  “Ouch.”

  “What is wrong?” He was suddenly beside her. She caught her breath in a gasp. She hadn’t even seen him move.

  “Nothing. Just cut myself on that piece of glass.”

  He reached for the piece.

  “Watch you don’t do the same,” she warned.

  He gave her look of disbelief. Right. Because she was treating him like a child. Good one, Eden. He threw the piece of glass into her pan then reached for her hand. “Allow me to see.”

  “It’s nothing. Just a little cut.”

  “It bleeds.”

  “Well, yeah, it will stop.”

  He looked unusually alarmed for such a small cut. Sure, it was bleeding quite a bit —surprising how much a small cut could bleed—but it was nothing to be alarmed about. She wasn’t in any danger of losing a finger or anything. Blood welled, running down her finger onto her hand. Crap. “Can I use your bathroom? If I don’t stop this, I will bleed everywhere.”

  His eyes widened.

  “I just mean that I don’t want to get it on your floors, and if I try to walk next door it will probably end up dripping everywhere. Mind you, might improve the décor, right?” she joked.

  And that went right over his head.

  “Blood is used for décor?”

  “In this neighborhood, sometimes. Um, bathroom?” She knew where it was. Their apartments were mirror opposites of each other.

  “Yes. I have one.”

  “May I use it?”

  “Yes.”

  She quickly made her way past him, glancing over at his bed, noticing it had no sheets or bedding of any sort. She guessed he could be in the middle of doing laundry. But considering he hadn’t bothered to clean up a broken lamp she couldn’t see him being that concerned with washing sheets. Was it possible he had no linens? Worry filled her as she ran her hand under the tap. How little money did he actually have?

  Maybe that’s why he’d stuck around at the bakery today even though she’d told him to leave. No doubt he was hoping she could afford to pay him something. Guilt tightened her stomach.

  She sighed. She guessed living on ramen noodles for a few weeks wouldn’t hurt her. She’d use her grocery budget to give him some more hours of work. She ripped off some toilet paper and pressed a wad against the cut. There, that should hold. Unless he had some first aid supplies. A long shot, but she opened the bathroom cabinet, blinking for a moment in surprise.

  There were no first aid supplies. There was also no soap, no razor or toothpaste and toothbrush, no cologne. Not that she’d scented any on him. None of the usual stuff that you might expect to find in a bathroom cabinet.

  Instead, all she saw were rows of gold-colored bottles. She counted them. There had to be at least twenty. What the hell? Reaching for one, she pulled it out.

  Dr. Newman’s self-tanning solution. Guaranteed to give at least five days of radiant tanning glow.

  He used self-tan? Okay, so he did have a nice tan, but why would he need this much? Especially when they were heading into summer? Or was he preparing for lots of days spent on the beach this summer? She shook her head in confusion. Unless this wasn’t his? Maybe the same female friend visited each night and this supply belonged to her. But why would she keep it here when she didn’t live here? And there were no hints that a woman stayed here. There were no feminine touches at all. Surely there would be something.

  Feeling like an amateur sleuth, she searched the bathroom for stray hair or smudges of make-up. Nothing.

  Huh.

  Why would he spend all this money on self-tanning lotion and not even have linen on his bed? He really didn’t seem the type to care that much about his appearance. Unless he was

  aiming for a career in stripping.

  Actually, that wasn’t such a stupid thought. He’d make a damn sight more money than he would working for her. She wished she knew, but she had the feeling she wouldn’t get a straight-out answer if she asked him. Besides, she didn’t want to insult him—or be accused of snooping. She put the bottle back, careful to make certain that it was just as she’d found it. Each bottle had been lined up perfectly, which kind of surprised her considering the mess he’d left in his main living area.

  She closed the door then left the bathroom.

  Marcun was waiting just where she’d left him. He stood so still it was almost unnatural. Alarm bells were beginning to chime, but she wasn’t certain what her instincts were attempting to tell her.

  “I guess I’ll head back to my apartment. Have you got a rubbish bag for the glass?” She took in more of his small apartment. There were two ripped shirts on the puke-brown couch that had definitely seen better days. A few dirty glasses sat by the sink, as well as her plate, which held crumbs of the brownies. So he’d been telling the truth when he said he liked it.

  Or maybe he was just hungry.

  Sympathy stirred. She couldn’t stand the idea of anyone going hungry.

  He looked down at the dustbin filled with glass.

  “Never mind, I’ll take it with me.” The toilet paper against her finger was beginning to grow red. She held her hand against her chest and crouching, grabbed the pan with the glass, and made her way to the door. Don’t look back. Don’t say anymore. You don’t owe him anything.

  She glanced back. Still standing there. Still staring at her.

  Like a lost little puppy.

  She sighed.

  “Why don’t you come over to my place for dinner?” She did a hasty inventory of what she had. She was an awesome baker but a useless cook. “Give me an hour and I’ll whip something up.” That would give her enough time to get to the market and grab a few things. A man his size probably ate quite a bit.

  He blinked. “Dinner?”

  “Yes, that meal you eat at night. Look, if you don’t want to come over you just need to say so, I won’t be insulted.”

  “I don’t.”

  And she’d lied. She couldn’t help but feel highly insulted.

  “Right. Okay. I guess you have other plans.”

  “No.”

  Jeez, would it have hurt him to lie? To spare her feelings a little? She’d almost thought they were getting along. She’d offered him a job. She was keeping his secret for him. She’d even given him everything left over from the bakery and cleaned up his broken glass.

  So yeah, it wouldn’t have hurt him to make up some fictional excuse. Instead, he’d simply rather be on his own than eat dinner with her.

  What an asshole.

  “See you tomorrow then.” She stormed out, barely managing not to slam
the door behind her.

  Rude. Inconsiderate. Jerk.

  She strode into her apartment, pacing up and down the room, ignoring the throbbing in her finger and the way her stomach grumbled. Urgh.

  What was wrong with her? Why did she keep trying to be nice to him? He kept her up all night. He’d ended up with all the leftovers from the bakery that she’d been planning on having for dinner and breakfast tomorrow. He kept lecturing her on safety, he wouldn’t let her take the elevator, and he was a jerk. Enough was enough.

  If he wasn’t the rudest man she’d ever met then he was close.

  And to think she’d felt sorry for the jerk. No more. From now on they were next door neighbors and employer-employee.

  Nothing more.

  Marcun had the feeling that the little human was upset with him. Perhaps it was due to her cut. It was only a small cut but these humans were remarkably fragile. It was a wonder they had survived as a species if they bled so much from one nick. Surprisingly, he had been rather alarmed to see blood on her.

  When she had offered him dinner, he had no choice but to say no, because the longing to say yes was too great to give in to. He shook his head, perplexed at himself.

  This was not him. He never had problems focusing on the mission.

  Perhaps he needed to remove himself. He pressed a button on his communicator and watched as the female paced back and forth in the room next to his. She looked upset. Angry. Her lips moved. Was there someone else there? He moved the camera around. He could not see anyone. Was she all right? Should he go check…no.

  This stopped now.

  He turned off the video feed and then pushed another button on his communicator.

  “Yes? What is it?” Tecan’s voice sounded stressed. Distracted. The sound of gunfire and screaming made Marcun immediately tense. What was going on? Were they under attack? Who would attack them here? No one knew where they were.

  “Tecan! Tecan what is going on? Do you require assistance? Are you under attack?” he asked urgently. He raced out of the apartment and down the stairs.

  “What? Die! Die!”

  “Tecan!” he half-roared as he pounded out onto the pavement. His back tingled, his wings seconds away from bursting free. Flying would get him to his pack mates in seconds. Right then did not care that they were supposed to keep their presence a secret. Tecan and Sacaren needed him.

  “I am coming.”

  “Wait. What? Marcun, what is the matter?” Tecan’s voice sounded puzzled. “You sound stressed. Do you need us?”

  What?

  He paused. His whole body tense, his heart pounding. Around him, people came to a stop and stared. He backed into the shadows.

  “Are you under attack?” he asked urgently, still prepared to come to their rescue.

  “Attack? Why would you think that?”

  “I heard screaming. The sound of lasers being fired.”

  “Huh? Oh, um … yeah …” Tecan sounded hesitant. Almost embarrassed.

  “You said, ‘Die! Die’.”

  “That’s because I was beating him for once. And I would have if you hadn’t interrupted us.”

  “You were in a training session?” He started walking towards the place where they were staying. It would take much longer on foot but now that he knew they were not in immediate danger, he could not risk flying.

  He turned to cross a road and one of those hovercars came to an abrupt halt, a horn blaring. The owner of that vehicle really should get that looked out. The noise was most obnoxious.

  “Hey, buddy! What the fuck do you think you’re doing? You could have gotten killed.”

  Marcun kept walking. He had gotten used to ignoring these humans and their loud, strange ways. Nax would not last a day without murdering someone.

  When he entered the living area where Sacaren and Tecan were staying, he heard more squealing and lasers firing. Someone shouted. A triumphant yell.

  He stopped as he caught sight of them. They both sat on a large dark brown sofa. The screen that was called a television held some sort of vid. Small figures raced through an austere-looking spaceship, firing red lasers at each other. One figure fell to the ground, unmoving, and a red light flashed.

  Tecan groaned, flopping back in his seat. “Dead, again.”

  “Winner! Undefeated champion!” Sacaren stood and threw his arms in the air, his wings moving up and down as though to emphasize his joy.

  “Best out of twenty,” Tecan demanded.

  “What are the two of you doing?”

  They knew he was here and it irritated him further that neither of them acknowledged his presence.

  “Playing this simulation game.” Tecan turned and held up a case.

  “A game? You are playing a simulation game when we are on a mission?” He could not believe them.

  Sacaren held his hands out. “What else should we do? There is no need for all of us to watch the female. You are close to her most of the time. We are growing restless.”

  “This simulation relieves tension,” Tecan told him. “Or at least it would if I could win.”

  “What can I say?” Sacaren shrugged. “I am as skilled in a simulation as I am in real life.”

  Tecan gave a low, warning noise. “Shall we test that?”

  Marcun sighed. It seemed he was not the only one growing tense and short-tempered. And if playing this simulation game kept them occupied and from fighting then who was he to say they could not play it?

  “You could have warned me,” he told them. “When I called, I thought you were under attack.”

  “And you rushed over to rescue us.” Sacaren placed his hand on his chest. “I am touched.”

  “What?” Marcun frowned. “Touched by what?”

  “It is a human saying,” Sacaren explained. “I heard it on a vid. How are you managing to pretend to be human when you know nothing about them?”

  “I do not need to know about them,” Marcun said, irritated. “I need to contact Ioin. I cannot do it where I live and risk having the female hear.”

  Tecan shrugged and sat, pressing something on his communicator. In a few seconds, a holographic image of the flight deck in their ship appeared. Ioin stared down at them. He had been their pack leader for years. He wasn’t the oldest or the fastest or even the strongest, but he had a level head. He was smart and he always put the pack first.

  Which is what Marcun should do. Pack before all else. Even before sweet human females with eyes like sparkling jewels and hair the color of fire.

  Was he becoming poetic? Maybe he was ill. It was the only explanation he could think of.

  Behind Ioin appeared Brogan and Nax. Brogan grinned at them, while Nax was as serious as always.

  “Greetings. You have news?” Ioin asked, jumping straight to the point.

  “Yes. I wish to be removed from this mission.”

  There was silence. Brogan no longer smiled. Ioin now had a frown to match Nax and beside him both Tecan and Sacaren had grown tense.

  “You wish to withdraw from the mission?” Ioin asked, his voice filled with surprise. No one ever withdrew from a mission.

  He let out a deep breath. “Not from the mission. I misspoke.”

  “You misspoke? You?” Ioin sounded even more shocked. Marcun never misspoke. And he always followed orders.

  “I do not think I am the right person to keep watch over the female.”

  “Why?” Ioin raised an eyebrow. “Has she discovered your presence?”

  “Yes.”

  “What?” Both eyebrows had risen now. Marcun winced. He was getting this all wrong.

  “What I think Marcun is trying to say,” Tecan interjected. “Is that the female came to him.”

  “She brought him brownie,” Sacaren added. “He has not shared any since.”

  “That was two risings ago. She has not made me more.” Yet. And if he withdrew then he would not get to sample any more. Hmm, he had not taken that into consideration. But no, he could not let the brownie swa
y him. He needed to withdraw before she messed with his mind any further.

  “So you say,” Sacaren said suspiciously.

  “Enough,” Ioin told them firmly. “Tecan, since you seem to be the only one making sense you will give me a report.

  Tecan told their pack mates all that had happened. Well, all that he knew had happened. Marcun had not told them that she had been in his apartment. Or about their conversation while walking home. Or inviting him to dinner a second time. Did that have some meaning? In some cultures, food was very important. Humans certainly seemed to enjoy their food. And it was quite good. Especially in comparison to what they got when they were on board their ship.

  “So you are now working with her as well as living next to her? That is even better, is it not? You can stay closer to her without worrying she will notice you.”

  Actually, after the first day he had ceased worrying that she would discover him trailing her. She was not terribly observant, but he did not say that to Ioin. For some reason he did not want to point out her shortcomings to his pack mates.

  “I do not see the issue.”

  “It is difficult to keep a human form for such long hours,” he said carefully.

  Ioin nodded. “I understand the challenges. But hopefully this should not take too much longer and you are not with her all the time. You have Tecan and Sacaren to call upon if you have need for support.”

  “You have not found the courier?” That would be the simplest solution. To grab the jewel before it made its way to the female. He refused to think of her by her name. It was too sweet and feminine. Too intimate.

  “No.” Ioin shook his head. “He is difficult to pin down. But he will surely be here soon. Then you can grab the jewel and we can leave. This mission has already taken too long.”

  It seemed they were all growing tense with waiting.

  “We are on our way to Earth now. We should arrive in three or four risings. Is there room for us where you are living?” he asked Tecan.

  Tecan nodded. “There is plenty of room here.”

  “Is it wise for all of us to be on planet?” Marcun asked. Nax was the oldest among them and the least adaptable to others’ ways. He would not be able to hold his wings for long.