Last Kiss Goodnight

by Gena Showalter

  "Calm."

  It should have been easy for him. In his line of work, he'd seen the effects of domestic abuse a thousand times before, and had thought himself too hardened to ever care. He'd always told himself the people who stayed in that type of situation deserved what they got. Now, having seen the bruises on Vika, learning she was deaf, knowing she had been raised in such an insular world, suspecting she had no idea there was something better out there . . .

  But even if she had known, she would not have left the circus. He remembered what she'd said. You would also sentence the other captives to death.

  She wanted them freed. She wanted them safe. Even at a terrible cost to herself.

  Suddenly a puzzle piece slid into place, and a clear picture of her character began to form. She cared for her charges with all of her heart. Not just to assuage a guilty conscience, but because she placed others before herself. She stayed here, accepting her father's abuse, Matas's abuse, even the otherworlders' abuse, to save those under her supervision. And yes, there were probably other reasons, maybe even a thousand more, but the otherworlders were a big one, he was sure.

  Even more miraculous, she understood why the otherworlders acted as they did and didn't hold a grudge. How could she, and still be willing to break the rules to distribute cookies and chocolates?

  What kind of person could do that?

  An answer immediately formed. The kind his mother would have loved.

  A pang erupted in the center of his chest, deep and burning, probably leaving a scar. One he welcomed.

  "What did you do to her?" he shouted with an emotion he'd never before used. An emotion he couldn't even name. It was too hot for mere fury and too cold for something as controlled as calculation, springing from a place deep inside him, where instinct proved to be the dominant force.

  Jecis stopped a few feet away, huffing and puffing with his own rage. "You. What have you done to my daughter, beast? How have you bewitched her?"

  "Give her to me," Solo demanded.

  "Don't you dare." Matas, who was clutching his bleeding side, opened his mouth to say something. Shadows rose from him, high and higher, reaching toward Jecis . . . but the misty skull hiding under Jecis's skin turned--without Jecis moving an inch--and snapped its teeth. The shadows retreated and Matas closed his mouth.

  "She deserves better than the likes of you two," Solo snarled.

  Matas leapt forward, grabbed the bars, and shook the cage. "Keep talking, I dare you. I'll do even worse to you, you--"

  Moving faster than either man could track, Solo closed the distance, wrapped his fingers around both of the man's wrists and squeezed. In seconds, the bones were crushed.

  Matas howled, sending black birds scattering from their perches on top of the motor home. "Stop!"

  "When I'm done," Solo growled, and he definitely wasn't done. He twisted one of Matas's arms, forcing the man to spin around or lose the limb, and slammed the lower part against the bars, breaking those bones as well.

  This time, Matas screamed.

  Solo still wasn't done. He jerked and slammed the upper part of the arm against the bars, breaking the bones there, too. Matas released another scream, this one high-pitched.

  The entire tussle lasted less than three seconds.

  Solo could have reached out and raked his claws across the man's jugular. He definitely would have, if he hadn't feared Vika would be penalized for his actions.

  Tears leaked down Matas's cheeks, and his knees buckled. But the man didn't fall--he couldn't. Solo kept hold of his arm, applying pressure to each of the new wounds.

  "P-please," Matas begged.

  Had he made Vika beg before he'd hit her?

  Solo lifted the male's arm a few inches higher.

  As if she sensed the tension, a moan rose from her. It was the first noise she'd made, and one that proved she lived, that she was still in pain.

  "Give the girl to me," Solo repeated. "I would never hurt her."

  "Please . . . please," Matas said.

  Teeth bared with masculine aggression, Jecis said, "Oh, I'll give her to you all right. She thinks she wants you, and a little alone time with you should change her mind, teach her better, and make her appreciate what she has."

  Without hesitation, Solo placed both hands in the air, palms out. Matas collapsed into a groaning heap, cradling his arms to his chest and attempting to slither away.

  "Vika," Solo said. "Give her to me. Now."

  "No," Matas managed to shout past his sobs. "She's mine! You said--"

  "Silence!" Jecis boomed. "I have made my decision, and it will stand. Twice she has chosen the animal over you, and so I will give her what she thinks she wants. And you," he said to Solo. "I'm placing my very heart in your hands. You will guard it."

  Vika was not the male's heart. A man guarded the treasures of his heart, fawned over them, placed their welfare above his own. Jecis had done none of those things.

  "He's a beast," Matas cried. "He'll maul her. Look at what he did to me!"

  Ignoring him, Jecis said to Solo, "If she dies, you die. If you injure her in any way, I will injure you a thousand times worse. You are only to scare her. To make her hate you."

  He was done talking. He wanted the girl. "Give! Now!"

  "Open the cage, Matas," Jecis demanded. "You've still got one working arm, yes? After that, change the lock. I don't want Vika able to set herself free during the solar flare."

  Murmuring, still crying, Matas lumbered to his feet.

  Every muscle Solo possessed tensed, his body readying to jolt into action the moment the lock disengaged. He would grab Vika, and he would run. He would get her to safety, and he would return. He would save the otherworlders, just as she wanted, and he would destroy her family, just as she didn't. Or hadn't. Maybe she'd changed her mind.

  Only, the now glaring man pushed the button that caused the cuffs to pump him with sedatives, and strength abandoned him in an instant. His arms and legs became too heavy to move, and black dots winked through his eyes.

  "Touch her," Matas snarled, even as he whimpered in pain, "and I'll slice you into pieces."

  "Enough," Jecis said, closing the distance and peering into Solo's eyes. "When the solar flare hits, you'll discover there are monsters worse than you out there. They'll come for you, and they'll try to eat you. Keep Vika in the center of the cage, and they won't be able to reach her. You, on the other hand . . . you're so big, I bet they'll be able to get you no matter where you're lying. You'll have to fight them." He grinned, but there was no amusement to the expression. "That should be just the thing to scare her and keep her from ever wanting anything to do with you."

  Solo cared nothing for the warning. He collapsed, saying, "Will . . . kill . . . you both . . ."

  *

  Eyelids splitting apart, Solo sat up with a jolt. Residual sparks of fury blazed in his chest, each one serving as a reminder. Vika. Beaten. Carried into the cage. His to save. He twisted--and found her lying on her back on the opposite side, still, too still.

  Despite the aches and pains in his body--new aches and pains that proved he had not imagined Jecis setting Vika down and giving Solo a beating of his own--he scrambled over to her.

  There were two cuts in her bottom lip. One was from before, and it had opened up, and the other was new. But that was it, the only damage that he could see. For her to sleep this deeply, to have moaned so thickly, there had to be more. He gently ran his fingers over her scalp, and felt two egg-size bumps. Between one heartbeat and the next, he'd partially morphed.

  As gently as possible, Solo checked her vitals and the intense trembling of his hands surprised him. At least her heartbeat was strong, granting him a measure of relief. As X had said, she would survive.

  He should wake her up. She needed to remain alert for the next six hours. At least. But only if Jecis hadn't given her any of the new medications available for just such a human head injury. Solo hated that he didn't know.

  For once, X did
n't appear with an answer or an encouragement in a time of need and Dr. E did not appear to tell him why he should be angrier. As if he needed any help with that.

  How he wished he possessed the ability to heal others, as Corbin Blue did, taking her injuries into himself. Or, like John No Name, the ability to hypnotize with his voice, forcing people to do anything he wished. But no. The Allorians apparently came with many flaws, and very few benefits.

  He glanced around. Night had fallen. His cage hadn't yet been moved, so Jecis's trailer was still in front of him. No one was outside. Which was strange. The circus was supposed to be packing up, moving to a new location. There should have been a ton of activity.

  In the far corner of the cage, he found medicines, bandages, a blanket, bottles of water, and food. As gently as before, he doctored Vika's lip, then folded the blanket to put it under her head. Only once did she make a noise, and that noise was a low, mewling whimper.

  "Vika," he said. "Wake up for me, honey." He caressed her cheek. "Come on."

  Another moan, but she blinked open her eyes. They were iced over, glassy. "Solo?"

  Good. This was good. She knew him; that part of her memory was intact. "I'm here."

  "My head hurts."

  "I know."

  "And I'm tired."

  "Did your father pour a sweet-tasting liquid down your throat before carting you to my cage?"

  "I don't--" A pause as her features scrunched. "Wait. Yes. He did."

  "Sleep, then."

  "Thank you," she said with a soft sigh. Her head lolled to the side.

  He traced the delicate curve of her jaw. He'd found her beautiful before, but now, knowing what he did about her, feeling the warmth of her skin surround him, inhaling the delicacy of her scent, mint and jasmine, she was exquisite. She was everything he'd ever wanted in his woman, and everything he'd never been able to have.

  X claimed she belonged to him. Despite everything, Solo wanted to believe that. He no longer wanted to fight the knowledge.

  And he wanted to believe she would be happy to wake up--really wake up--and find herself inside his cage, that she would not scream and cry and beg for mercy. After all, there was a big difference between seeing to an animal's care and getting close enough to be bitten.

  His ears began to twitch. Finally, sound. Mumbling.

  Solo looked around, but saw nothing. Still the mumbling continued. And it was nearby. Frowning, he stood and approached the bars. He found Jecis on top of his trailer, meaty arms spread.

  Lightning flashed in the sky.

  Jecis's voice rose in volume. The wind kicked up several notches. More lightning flashed, this time arcing toward the human, as though drawn to him. Maybe he would die, Solo hoped, but the moment the bolt made contact, the man's body seemed to expand, black shadows bursting from him. A thick white fog formed at the edges of the shadows and rolled from the trailer to the cage. Solo listened, heard a whoosh of air, the patter of footsteps and slam of a door. Jecis must have gone inside.

  Next he heard the crackle of flames. Even felt the heat. He heard the soft rustle of shuffling footfalls, and there were enough to form an army.

  Uneasy, he stood guard. The fog began to thin . . . thin . . . and then everything changed--though nothing was for the better.

  Seventeen

  You will not be afraid of the terror by night, or of the arrow that flies by day.

  --PSALM 91:5

  A WASTELAND APPEARED.

  Solo looked around. He could still see Jecis's trailer, but it was now surrounded by barren hills littered with dead trees, fat insects flying from one gnarled branch to another. There were fire pits in every direction, yellow-gold flames dancing in the hot, dry wind.

  The footsteps grew louder and louder in volume, until a crowd of men and women finally appeared, cresting over one of the hills. They tripped and raced in his direction.

  The monsters Jecis had mentioned.

  Solo had traveled the world, had seen terrible races, but never anything like this. The creatures were humanoid, with sagging, paper-thin skin that smelled of rot. Worms slithered along their scalps, and their eyes were dark and soulless--if they had eyes, that is. Some were blind, their sockets empty. But one thing every creature had in common, he realized as they converged on the cage: a hunger for prey. Moaning, snapping their too-sharp teeth, they reached through the bars in a desperate bid to grab him.

  Moving quickly, Solo slid Vika and the supplies to the center. Then, for the first time since his capture, he put his claws and teeth to good use. He slashed, and limbs fell. Blood sprayed. He bit, and had to spit out fingers. A foul taste coated his tongue.

  Adrenaline surged through him, burning, blistering, causing the drugs in the cuffs to activate. His motions slowed, but he managed to remain on his feet. Either he was developing an immunity or his determination was too great to be denied.

  For hours he continued to fight, his arms bruised from banging against the bars so many times, his shins cut and bleeding, but his opponents continued to drop like stones in an ocean, so the pain was worth it. And yet, the moment he felled one of the creatures, two more stepped up to the plate. How long would he be forced to do this without any visible results?

  The battle raged so long two suns began to rise in the burnt-orange, smoke-filled sky. He renewed his efforts, attacking with more fervor, desperate to protect the woman who had been placed in his care. Only, he next swiped and bit at air. The monsters were backing away from him, hissing as though their skin was too sensitive to tolerate more than the barest hint of light. They dragged their fallen with them, leaving only blood behind.

  Solo stood in place for the longest while, waiting, panting, but the monsters never returned.

  What were those things?

  There was no need to rack his brain about what they'd wanted. He knew. Him and Vika, a smorgasbord of delicious.

  Vika.

  His muscles and bones protested as he rushed to her side. There were specks of fresh blood on her cheeks, but none belonged to her. She still slept, completely unaware of the turmoil around her, with no new injuries, and relief speared him.

  He used the bottle of enzyme spray to clean her, then himself, then the cage. He didn't want her to wake up and see a single hint of devastation--or fear him any more than necessary. He wouldn't play her father's game. All the while, he kept track of the seconds ticking by, needing to know how much time would lapse between the light and the dark, the peace and the chaos, just in case the monsters returned.

  He paced, swatting at the insects brave enough to try and bite him.

  He watched the hills.

  One hour passed, two, three . . . eight, nine. He woke Vika every sixty minutes to check her vitals, and she always told him that her head hurt and she wanted to sleep. He always let her.

  At the tenth hour, the suns began to descend. Within minutes, footsteps could be heard shuffling in the distance. Moans and groans arose. The monsters once again crested the hill. Only, they were now hungrier and far more determined to dine, chomping their teeth with more force, trying to slink through the bars to reach him.

  Rather than fight them, he tested the parameters of the cage by stretching out beside Vika and using his body to shield her. Jecis had hoped they would still be able to reach him, but Jecis had hoped in vain. And Solo liked this much better.

  Perhaps this land wasn't so bad, after all.

  *

  For what seemed the most painful of eternities, Vika drifted from consciousness to unconsciousness, vaguely aware that someone was carefully tending to her needs. But that couldn't be right. No one had ever carefully tended her needs.

  Oh, her father always appointed someone to bathe and bandage her after a beating, but usually that someone was Audra, who would only sit in her trailer, paw through her treasures, or torment her with the spiders.

  Was she imagining this?

  No. No, she couldn't be. The sandalwood scent she'd added to Solo's enzyme spray mixed wi
th the unique fragrance of peat smoke he emitted, penetrating the stupor around her mind. Solo must be with her. That would certainly explain why she kept imagining that she was talking to him. Well, she wasn't imagining, she realized.

  They were together, and the knowledge relieved her--but it also confused her. How were they together? She needed to wake up, find out.

  Sleep, X whispered. I'm doing what I can to enhance the medicine your father gave you, and I'll do better work without any interference from you, thank you very much.

  She . . . remembered that he'd tried to help her inside the tent, with Matas. Yes. That's right. Matas had hit her, and--she wasn't sure what had happened after that. She only knew she had failed to listen to X and she had suffered. She wouldn't make the same mistake.

  "I will. Thank you," she said, and drifted off.

  *

  An eternity later . . . or perhaps mere minutes . . . the darkness faded from Vika's mind and a fantastical dream took shape around her. She stood inside a shaded courtyard, jewel-toned flowers blooming in every direction, interspaced between towering white columns. On her right was a tall, muscled man she'd never before seen. He had dark hair and eyes the color of the purest ocean. His skin was a deep, rich shade of bronze, flecked with shimmers of gold. He wore a bright white robe and held a double-edged sword.

  On her left was another robe-wearing male, and though he, too, was tall and muscled, he lacked the first male's beauty. Pale, tangled hair shagged around a face with hollowed cheekbones and chapped lips. His skin was chalk white, and his eyes so light a green they would have reminded her of diamonds set inside polished jade if they had possessed any kind of sparkle. Instead, they were dull, lifeless. He was without a weapon.

  Heart slamming against her ribs, she backed away from both. "Am I dead?"

  Both males faced her.

  "You're here," the dark-haired one said, motioning to the garden, "and you see me." There was a layer of surprise in his tone. "Not even my charge has come here, and no one but him has ever before seen me."

  "That means you can see me, too, can't you, pretty girl?" said the blond, grinning a siren's grin despite his ragged appearance. "Let's make out to celebrate." He reached for her.