Red: A Dystopian World Alien Romance

by S. J. Sanders

  That was why it was his job. Although light spilled from the windows, his dark coloring would conceal him well in the shadows as he made the climb.

  “I still think I should accompany you,” Warol muttered, his yellow eyes narrowing to slits as he looked up at the higher window.

  “We both know why that is a bad idea,” Rager said, tugging at his brother’s silvery scruff. “You will be too visible.”

  Warol chuffed without humor. “And I won’t be coming through the front door?”

  “That part of the plan doesn’t rely on subterfuge. You will be the necessary distraction while I move down to locate our mate.”

  His brother bared his teeth, clearly affronted to be regulated to “the distraction,” but it couldn’t be helped. Rager began to scale the stone walls of the human den, ignoring the four gleaming yellow eyes watching him from below. The Guild had sent their own to scout the den, providing valuable intel on the structure they called “the mansion.” It was with this information in mind that he climbed until he reached the first roof. He crouched, observing the window just below the upper roof that led to what the Guild had called the fourth-floor attic.

  He carefully slid the window open. It was going to be a tight fit, but he would manage. He did not know why he glanced down, and upon doing so he immediately regretted it, feeling the overwhelming desire to kill Warol. He turned away from the window with a snarled curse and pulled himself up to the main roof, where he knew a guard was stationed. A guard he had purposely been working to avoid.

  His idiot triad brother was going to be spotted at any moment.

  With his peripheral eye, he watched Warol, the silver fur clearly visible in the low light of the evening, climbing up the side of the building some distance from where Rager had made his ascent. Even as he watched his brother, he crept closer to the guard. The guard had his back mostly to him but enough of the man’s face showed that Rager could see the small frown on the man’s face as he glanced down and over… right at Warol. It wasn’t merely a guard, but a huntsman, his identity betrayed by the blue cloak he wore. Before Rager could get close enough, the human raised his crossbow and a dart snicked by, grazing Warol’s flank.

  A ribbon of blood appeared on his brother’s side, but the projectile did not find its mark. Rager watched Warol sway from the shock of the pain but then his brother climbed faster. The huntsman took aim again, but this time he never got the opportunity to take his shot. Rager drew up behind him and snapped his neck, letting the body fall limply into his lower arms. He lowered the human and descended once more to the lower roof and waited for his brother to join him.

  Warol slipped into the shadows of the attic and flashed his teeth in a quiet, apologetic grin.

  “Next time, I’m not saving your pelt,” Rager whispered furiously. “You had your instructions. What do you think you are doing?”

  “I want to get to our mate as much as you do, and this is the quicker route. Besides, I couldn’t let you have all the fun.” Warol winced as he probed where the dart had grazed him.

  “Fun,” Rager repeated flatly. He gestured to the window. “Hurry and enter, before another sees you.”

  Warol’s tail flagged behind him with an arrogant flair, and he flashed his fangs just before his pale hide disappeared through the small window. Rager followed, entering a dusty room stacked with a maze of forgotten human possessions. He made his way through and found himself facing a tiny body looming near his head from where it was perched on a dark wooden piece of furnishing. His heart sped up at the blank, soulless eyes staring at him from a badly cracked smiling face, until he realized it was a lifeless thing created to resemble a human. It was harmless.

  Warol joined him, his lip curling in revulsion at the thing. “That is absolutely hideous. Looks like something that will get up and murder you for the fun of it when you are sleeping. I will never understand humans.”

  “It is disturbing,” Rager murmured in agreement.

  Warol leaned closer, sniffing at it. His nose wrinkled and he sneezed. “There is a passing scent attached to it as if it was touched a lot, but it is nearly nonexistent, faded as it is. I wonder if humans use it as vessels for the spirits of their dead,” he asked with a sudden interest.

  “Now you are being disturbing,” Rager said with a snort. “You and your strange obsessions.”

  “There is nothing strange about a healthy interest in the observations of honoring the dead,” Warol said. “Imagine it could be a strange human fetish meant to call the spirit of a departed one inside of it. It could even contain ashes or bones of the dead inside its sewn body!”

  Warol leaned forward as if to pluck the small figure draped in long white coverings. Rager knocked his hand aside as he reached for it.

  “Leave it be, Warol. We do not have time to satisfy your curiosity.”

  A pained expression crossed his brother’s face. “You are right. Let’s find our mate.”

  They continued into the recesses of the attic with a fluid synchronicity. Until that moment, Rager hadn’t realized how much Arie’s presence had harmonized his triad. Despite their familial bonds, Warol’s eccentric tendencies had often been beyond Rager’s comprehension and frequently vexed him. The shared bond with their mate seemed to have drawn all of them closer in a shared understanding and new appreciation of each other and what they provided their family. He understood Kyx’s strange insecurities and could enjoy Warol’s sharp wit and fascinations.

  They had always been a strong triad, but Arie made them a better and more cohesive family.

  Without her, their family was broken, grievously injured. He knew with certainty that their triad would never recover from the permanent loss of their mate. He closed his eyes and conjured to his mind the image of her beautiful face as she broke into her familiar melodious laughter. He could not imagine their family without her. They could do no other than recover her and destroy the threat.

  Holding that idea firmly in his mind, Rager made his way to the furthest end of the attic where they, at last, found the trap door. Even with Rager’s keen sight, he almost missed the pulley for the door tied against the wall. With infinite care he eased the door open, his fur bristling as it moaned in protest.

  Warol could see the male’s hackles also raise seconds before he closed his eyes and shuddered. “This whole den is cursed or possessed,” he growled. “At this rate, someone is bound to hear us.”

  Rager wasn’t inclined to disagree. The noise was terribly loud, and even he couldn’t ignore that it seemed almost otherworldly in its complaint against their intrusion. He flattened his ears. Although he was confident there was a simple explanation, the more time he spent in the human dwelling, the less comfortable he became. Not because he was as superstitious or spiritually inclined as his brother, who was the most reverent of their triad, but because of the sheer strangeness of it.

  Once the door was sufficiently raised, Rager tied it off once more and stalked down the steps, his every sense seeking anyone who might oppose their presence. They descended the long, winding staircase, their steps measured to evenly disperse their weight after the first loud creak of a step under Rager’s foot. His ears leaned forward, alert for any noise. At first, he heard nothing, but as they descended, he eventually caught the sound of impatient shuffling just below them. He paused, every nerve alert.

  Leaning over the side of the rail, he glanced down and caught the edge of a flared head covering that many of the huntsmen seemed to favor while in the Citadel. Before he had an opportunity to devise a method of attack, Warol leaped over the side of the banister directly down onto the huntsman. His feet caught the human in the back even as his lower arms caught ahold of his shoulders, wrenching him back against the forward propulsion of Warol’s weight. His brother’s upper arms gripped the head and simultaneously yanked it back too. The double crack of spine and neck were audible, followed by the impact of the human’s body weighed down by his Ragoru attacker.

  The door below s
wung open and two huntsmen barreled through, alerted by the noise. Rager dropped down beside his brother. As one cohesive fighting unit, they surged forward, teeth bared, as they lunged against the huntsmen. The men shouted out in panic, but their alarm was silenced under the assault of fangs and claws. They tore through their enemy, merciful only in the quick manner in which they dispatched their enemy.

  Pushing the bodies further against the staircase, they entered the next level of the great den and shut the door behind them. This floor was empty, other than the huntsmen they had slain, but had several doors lining the walls. At the other end were the stairs that led down to the next level. He proceeded directly toward them until he caught the sweet scent of their mate.

  Although he knew it was unwise to deviate from the plan, that every second counted for the retrieval and rescue of their mate, he couldn’t resist the call. Perhaps their mate had not yet descended to the lower chambers to begin the ceremony. If they could remove her safely, further away from the conflict, it would be all the better. Swayed by that logic, Rager burst through the door.

  To his disappointment, the room was empty, but what remained chilled his blood. The window had metal covering it to cage their mate within, but the bed was even worse. A metal chain hung from it, one end terminating in a band that lay open on the bed. Dried blood crusted it, and the scent permeated the room. Anger rippled through him, his entire body vibrating as a savage growl echoed through the room. The ferocity was so unlike anything he ever heard that, at first, he did not realize it came from him.

  “What is this place?” Warol choked out around his obvious horror, backing away at the sight of the bed. “The humans that dwell here must be mad to do such a thing…” He turned to look at Rager, the yellow light of his eyes brightening with rage. “I will destroy whoever did this to our mate.”

  Rager nodded sharply. No longer attempting to keep silent, they moved only with the stealth that nature afforded them as they raced down the steps to the lower floor. They sped along, their bodies colliding with anyone who dared to stand between them and their female. They did not attempt to be merciful any longer, nor to provide clean deaths. They ripped through the humans, leaving them to choke on their blood as they made their way down to what they were told would be the grand ballroom.

  They were still a short distance away when they heard the screams begin, and Rager knew that the Guild and Kyx were in the thick of their own assault. The metallic smell of blood hung heavy in the air, and the atmosphere rang with the sounds of projectiles firing and the wet thumps of falling bodies. It was tempting to join the fight and strike like spirits of death among the huntsmen, but Rager knew he couldn’t deviate from his course, no matter the temptation.

  Instead, he veered away from the commotion, the bulk of his body colliding with the pair of doors leading to the ballroom at high velocity. The doors swung open, breaking free of their anchors as they crashed into the walls. Dozens of wide-eyed faces turned and stared at them and chaos immediately ensued. Well-dressed, decorated huntsmen of what he suspected to be of elevated status shouted for the males under their command as they drew their weapons, not realizing those orders would never be heard.

  Rager had no care for them, though. They were nothing but a nuisance to be dealt with. Nor did he give any attention toward the round priest attempting to hide. His entire attention was caught on the red-clothed female on the raised floor. Her tresses were an unfamiliar shade, almost as dark as his own fur, but the face and scent of her was his mate.

  Her eyes widened at the sight of them, tears leaking out to run down her face as a smile split her lips. She pushed away from the elderly, malevolent female at her side as she tore her hair away, revealing the red stubble of her shorn mane. His heart hurt at the sight, as it represented just another torment she had to endure in their absence. At the same time, he was filled with the euphoria of simply being in her presence once more, despite how much his triad had failed to protect her.

  A large human male with silvering dark hair, likewise adorned in red, stepped in front of her, sword brandished as a cruel smile twisted his lips. Rager had no doubt as to who he was facing. This could be no other than the First Elite. His rival in intent. Rager’s lips pulled back from his fangs as he growled menacingly at the human who would dare to steal his triad’s female. The human seemed unconcerned, a confident smirk on his lips.

  “So you have come, beasts. I half-suspected that you might. However, it is for naught. In the end, you will have accomplished nothing here other than blessing our joining with the anointment of your blood.”

  Rager leaped forward in his rage, but panic swelled in his breast as Arie jumped onto the back of the huntsman, her fingers tearing into him. The male cursed and knocked her aside with little effort, sending her careening into the wall. The impact of her small body against the stone inflamed Rager’s fury. He would make certain that no one human would ever have suffered at the hand of the Ragoru like this one would.

  He was distantly aware of Warol leaping forward to bring down the squealing priest in his deep purple robes. Let his brother drink long of his enemy’s death. It was all that Rager could taste—the bitter bile of longing in his own mouth, the desperate need to quench it with the flowing blood of his enemy.

  With a snarl, he lunged at the huntsman. At that moment it seemed that the very earth seemed to shake, and the world stilled as he focused with a singular intensity on the First Elite Edwar.

  Death would never taste so sweet.

  36

  Kyx was more than a little annoyed at Warol. Once again, his triad brother had flouted the plan to do what he wanted, not that Kyx could blame him. He understood his reasoning. Kyx wanted nothing more than to be there when they liberated their mate. Yet he knew his task was an important one. Unfortunately, that didn’t make him resent Warol any less.

  The stench of gore filled his nose, and his fur grew slick with the gruesome spray from all those he brought down. The desperate screams and vulgar shouts of the huntsmen rang in his ears, mingling with the death cries of those fallen among the Guild. He wondered if he would be haunted in his sleep by dreams of the terrible sounds of the battle.

  He just thanked the Blessed Mother that Cyrus had talked some sense into Maddi. She lingered a safe distance away, waiting for their signal. Kyx didn’t want to imagine what could have happened to the female. She was no hardened warrior like many of the females among the Guild. Although her desire to join the melee was admirable, he was certain Arie would have mourned her loss had anything happened to her.

  Further within the great den, he heard the savage roar of Rager and knew his brother faced their enemy. Kyx surged forward at the head of the Guild, striking through the huntsmen as if he were cutting water. Humans fell, and yet the Guild shouted their jubilant cheer and they followed behind him, their blades drinking deep from their enemies. Kyx peeled his lips back in a grin.

  He needed no blade; his teeth and claws cut through any who stood before him.

  His heart picked up as he found himself facing the huntsman who’d attempted to kill him. The young male seemed to tremble in the face of Kyx’s fury. No longer caught off guard in the embrace of his mate, Kyx was now a force to be reckoned with, and the huntsman recognized it. The male threw down his sword.

  “Mercy!” he cried out.

  “I will give you equal in share of what you gave me,” Kyx promised. He struck lightning quick, his claws tearing through the belly and throat of the human. He did not finish him, but watched as he fell to the floor, his lifeblood pooling around him. Blood dripped from the huntsman’s mouth and he stared up at Kyx with eyes full of pain. Kyx crouched down until he was eye level with the male.

  “I will not kill you, but will leave you injured as you have left me. Pray that the Mother is merciful upon you.”

  “No, please. Don’t leave me this way. It hurts.”

  Kyx narrowed his eyes on the huntsman dispassionately. “You wish for the end of your p
ain?”

  “Please.”

  Finally, Kyx nodded. “Very well. Because Ragoru are not the monsters that the huntsmen are, I will do grant you this request.” Whipping his arm forward, Kyx tore out the male’s throat and watched as the light faded from the male’s eyes. He spat on the ground in front of the corpse. “You deserved far less.”

  His eyes sharpened and his belly lit with excitement as he looked up the door leading into the den. He roared with victory, echoed by the cheers of the men and women of the Guild all around him. Like a tidal wave, they rushed for the entrance to face the final confrontation with the elite huntsmen and the First Elite.

  He would look upon his mate again. He would join his brothers in tearing apart the male who would use and harm what was theirs. He would finally satisfy his vengeance and help usher forth true justice for the people of the Citadel.

  His breath came out in sharp pants, his muscles coiling in his body as he sprang into the heart of the enemy, the ornate room already painted with arcs of blood from his triad’s conquest. Kyx passed a male in a purple robe staring sightless at the ceiling, his body shredded in Warol’s brutal signature. On a risen platform, Rager was locked in deadly contest with the one male who he had come to tear apart and utterly destroy even as Warol battled a number of elite huntsmen circling him. Warol laughed, his voice sharp with mockery as Kyx joined into the fray, pulling an elite huntsman away from his brother before savaging the human with his own fangs.

  His heart beat out a song yearning for his mate. Arie, it bellowed with every move he made. With every human he brought down, his heart sang to his mate. He turned his head and his eyes locked for but a moment with her own. He watched her lips part before she fell to her knees, wracked with visible sobs. He pushed forward to get to her, slaying any who stood in his path until his body knocked her back, his arms wrapped firmly around her. Her cries were sweet in his ear as he just barely prevented them from crashing together onto the floor.