Stealing Shiloh

by K. A Knight

  They aren’t allies, that much is clear.

  I need a weapon or I’m fucked. Looking around, I see Nul is the closest, so I crawl towards him, my body protesting the movement.

  Gritting my teeth, I keep going. I need to get a weapon. I can fight them off long enough for help to come, someone must have seen us crash…right?

  The sound of a flare comes, a hiss and pop, and I realise they are cutting through the wall to get inside.

  Fuck!

  I grab Nul’s hand and pull myself towards him, reaching across his back and hating how still he is. I can’t do anything to help him yet, I need to protect him. Protect them all. So even though it shatters my heart not to check on him, I grab the blade at his hip. A sob escapes me when it gets caught in the leather sheath, his body blocking it.

  No!

  Crying now, I feel snot drip from my nose as I hear the metal get wrenched away. The stomping of boots and heavy breathing draws closer, and that awful chittering noise grows louder, grating against my aching head.

  My breathing speeds up as panic surges through me, and I desperately tug at the blade. Come on, come on!

  It finally comes free, and I flip over to see a dozen looming, grotesque aliens standing above me. I scream, I can’t help it, and hold out my blade. One of them steps forward, and I stab. It steps out of the way, avoiding my attack, and grabs my arm then injects something into it.

  My eyes widen as I flounder on the floor like a dying fish, fighting the numbness that seems to be travelling from the injection site to my head. Searing pain courses through my limbs, rendering them useless. That noise comes again, are they talking? I feel their slimy hands grabbing my legs and they start to pull me away from Nul.

  Away from my mates.

  I try to fight, but my body is so cold and numb. At least the pain has stopped. The will to fight diminishes as my limbs no longer respond to my commands. Blackness rolls across my eyes and into the back of my head as they drag me through a hole in the ship.

  I couldn’t save them…

  I wake up shivering, the cold startling me into consciousness. I’m never cold, my mates make sure of it. They are so attentive that even if I shiver once, they are instantly there like giant, alien blankets, warming me with their hard bodies and large hands…

  My four mates…

  Where are they?

  My lids are heavy, and it takes a while, but when I finally force them open, I squint, trying to see, except everything is dark. Why is it dark? Feeling along the floor, I freeze for a moment. The floor is icy, and it’s not the normal chill of the spaceship vessel I now call home, but something new.

  Something alien.

  Something arctic cold and dirty. My mates would never let me tremble on the ground covered in filth. They’re generals, after all, and have a reputation to uphold, not to mention the cleaning bots, which I’ve started to name… So if I’m not with my mates…where the fuck am I?

  Shuffling backwards, I bring my knees to my chest and wrap my arms around them as I wait for my eyes to adjust, scenting the air for the potent smell of my mates. Sweet and spicy, exotic and foreign. I gasp in horror when my eyes finally adjust to the darkness, freezing in terror.

  It’s a cell.

  I’m in a cell.

  I raise my hands, finding them tightly chained together. A shimmering glow emanates from around the chain, and when I try to break them, it only tightens further around my wrists. A hiss escapes my mouth through clenched teeth as the restraints cut into tender skin, making me gasp in pain before I seal my lips shut.

  Something is really wrong.

  This isn't like when I woke up on Forsaken Mountain, this is something worse. I can feel it, like a blur of a memory shielded by fog, and panic builds inside me the more it slips away. It’s telling me to flee, to run and get free.

  But…from what?

  Or who?

  I desperately reach for the memory, trying to remember what happened to land me here, did I do something wrong? No, Trov wouldn’t care even if I did, and he would never allow anyone to take me from them. Cryk would distract them and run away with me, while Joss amazed them with logic, and Nul snuck up behind them.

  Swallowing, I realise my mouth is really dry, I’m beyond thirsty. Wherever I am, I’ve been asleep for a while. My whole body aches and shivers, my empty stomach rumbling. Rubbing my bound hands together to try and warm up my frozen fingers, I cry out in pain when I catch on a painful patch of skin on the back of my left hand.

  Lifting it up, I turn it to see what’s wrong with the small amount of light in the cell. There, across my skin, is a burned spot—no, it’s eroded. Like acid was dripped on it. I blame my fogginess and disorientation for not noticing it earlier, but now that I have, my eyes sting and tears well at how painful it is. The top layer of my skin is missing.

  Fucking gone.

  And that’s not the only place. I feel it on my legs and arms too.

  What happened to me?

  Where are my mates?

  Where is my Klan?

  A noise interrupts my thoughts, and my head snaps up. I’ve heard that sound before, and somewhere deep inside me, something is screaming at me. I shut my eyes and grasp the memories, like barbs sticking through my skull as I peel back the grogginess.

  “No.” The word escapes my lips before I can stop it as images piece themselves together in my pounding head. Terror rolls through me as tears stream down my cheeks.

  My eyes fly open, and my heart skips a beat as the last piece of the puzzle completes the horrifying picture.

  I’m no longer with my Klan…

  I was stolen.

  Thirty-Three

  Joss

  “Shiloh!” My frantic shouts bounce around the broken hull of our decrepit ship. Glass is scattered everywhere, electronics are sizzling, and fires burn all over. This vekking thing is going to blow, with us inside.

  I can barely move, every muscle seizing, every joint aching. My wings feel as though they’ve been ripped off and stuck back on. All I can do is lift my head. My vision blurs, but not because of the acute pain plaguing me, it’s because of the vacant seat where Shiloh sat before we crashed.

  It’s empty.

  I feel hollow inside and try to move my body, but it’s unresponsive.

  “Cryk! Nul! Trov! Somebody, wake the vekk up!” My shouts fall on deaf ears as my Klan lies injured and unconscious. I crane my neck off the ground and look for something, anything, I can throw at them to get them up.

  “Shiloh! Are you here? Answer me!” I call for my mate, but I know in my heart she’s gone. Those Yarek vekks have taken her. The thought brews an anger so potent inside me that I feel as though I might explode. My scales flare brighter than I’ve ever seen, waking up Nul on the floor not too far from me.

  “Sh-Shi…” He tries to call for her.

  “She’s gone, Nul. We’ve got to get out of here. We have to find her!”

  I growl in frustration at my immobile frame. Nul rolls from his stomach to his back, showing off a massive wound in his leg that is spurting blood all over the floor. Our eyes meet, his unfocused pupils dilated. He needs medical attention, and he needs it now.

  “Can you reach Trov?” I glance at the big guy slumped in his chair. Other than a contusion on his head, he looks unharmed.

  Nul groans. “I’ll try.” His jaw clenches with determination as he drags himself across the debris filled floor to Trov’s seat. With a grunt, he pulls himself into a sitting position, his chest heaving from exhaustion.

  An explosion rocks J-Lo somewhere deep within her depths.

  We need to get out of here fast.

  Nul shakes Trov’s leg, trying to wake him. “Trov! Trov, wake up!”

  Much to my relief, Trov groans in response, then quickly bolts upright. His gaze darts all around us, his eyes wide and feral as he rips the straps securing him to his seat.

  “Shiloh’s gone,” Nul informs him.

  “The Yarek must hav
e taken her,” I growl. “We need to get off this ship before it becomes our tomb.”

  Trov snarls. “No! First we must search the ship for Shi—”

  “She’s not vekking here, Trov!” I shout. “Think about it! They didn’t come for us or for our tech. They have stealth and leap already. They came for Shiloh. And we need to get out of here to vekking find her. We won’t do her any good as charred remains.”

  Trov’s eyebrows shoot up at my forwardness. Now is not the time to allow the voices in my head to control me.

  I control them.

  Trov nods. “Can you move?”

  I shake my head. “No. I think my whole body is broken.”

  “Bot one!” Nul yells, and I want to smack myself in the face. Why didn’t I think of calling on the bots for aid?

  “Bot two!” I call, when the first fails to answer.

  “Bot three.” Nul’s voice becomes weaker and weaker.

  “Nul, how much time do you have until we can’t repair you?” Trov asks.

  Nul’s throat works, and he blinks long and hard. “Ten percent survival in thirty minutes.”

  “Vekk!” Trov runs his hands through his hair and stomps over to Cryk when a rummaging noise disrupts us.

  “Show yourself!” Trov demands, pulling a bakket from his hip. I want to laugh and cry all at once when it’s bot three.

  “Thank vekk,” I mutter in relief. “Bot three, inject Nul with adrenaline and carry me out of the ship.”

  The robot complies, injecting Nul before scooping me up. Its metallic arms feel hard against my broken body, and I wince, fighting the urge to scream and shout.

  I look back and see Trov carrying a limp Cryk in his arms. Bot three lays me on the ground outside before going back for Nul. In any other situation, this would be a beautiful place to visit. Soft beds of lush grass overlook the Lomons mountains, their peaks stretching into the clouds above.

  Shiloh would love this place.

  My chest aches at the thought.

  What are the Yarek doing to her?

  Are they hurting her?

  Touching her?

  Is she scared and crying and alone, wondering why we didn’t save her?

  Bot three emerges with Nul, who is tapping on a tablet with a broken screen, but I can see the faraway look in his eyes. He’s not far from losing consciousness. A deep rumbling sounds, and a moment later, a land cruiser drives from around the side of J-Lo.

  Smart little mishan.

  Trov picks up Cryk and places him in the back, then grabs Nul and me. He takes bot three as well, then jumps in the driver’s seat. After pressing a few buttons, we lift off into the air.

  “Where are you taking us?” I question, grateful to be flying. My body can’t handle all the bumps on the terrain right now.

  “We’re going to see Klan Marix, then we’re getting the vekk out of here.”

  “Do you think Shiloh is there?” Nul questions, sounding hopeful.

  Trov shrugs. “She could be. If Shiloh was lost and couldn’t find us, going to find Carmen would be the first thing she’d do.”

  Could she really be there? Could she have escaped our attackers and fled to her Harvest sister’s house?

  It’s a long shot, but I hold on to the small line of hope.

  Then it dawns on me. “We need Vrid to heal us.”

  Trov nods. Nul stays busy on his tablet. “I’ve informed the kings and sent warnings out to the other commanding officers. Everyone is—” Nul grimaces, pausing to take a breath. “Is on red alert.”

  “Good work,” Trov growls, as the cruiser picks up speed. The land hurries by below us, making me feel dizzy.

  We fly over Albenos, and soon see the large buildings in Lorenthis. Trov maintains manual operation of the vehicle all the way to Klan Marix’s house. During our journey, Cryk awakened and is now groaning by my side.

  Trov pops the cruiser’s doors, and we file out, broken and beaten. Trov helps me disembark while Cryk assists Nul, who is haemorrhaging at a rapid pace. Cryk gets to their door first and knocks hard.

  Kronk opens the door butt ass naked with his pants in his hand, and for a moment, I feel bad about interrupting them. “What’s wrong? Is it the Yarek?” Kronk rumbles, pulling on his pants and grabbing weapons from his belt as we push him aside and invade his home.

  “I-Is sh-she here?” Nul stutters, his voice panicked.

  “Shiloh?” a confused Carmen asks, her eyebrows arched in interest. “No. Why would she be?”

  “She’s gone!” Trov roars, as the final thread of hope shreds.

  Shiloh’s not here.

  “What?” Carmen falls to her knees, her head in her hands.

  Cryk speaks next, confirming Carmen’s fear. “Shiloh, she’s gone. Someone has taken her.”

  Carmen looks up, her eyes misting with tears as her Klan pulls on their pants. “Who? When? Was it the Drykken, the Yarek? Who took her?” Carmen’s voice grows loud when we are unable to answer her questions.

  Trov growls and steps over to her. “We don’t know,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “But we will. And when we find them, we will kill them all.”

  “We’re helping,” Carmen declares without hesitation, jumping to her feet. “Shiloh is my friend, my family. I’m helping.” She turns to her Klan and says something about a baby and to ready the weapons.

  Klan Marix bursts into movement, grabbing their clothes which are strewn across their floor, arming their bodies.

  “We need your help first,” Trov says, nodding to Vrid who is sheathing a bakket. “My Klan is injured. We can’t fight in our condition. Will you help us?”

  I’ve never seen Trov so humble. Neither have they, because Vrid’s eyes widen in surprise. “Of course. Who needs help the most?”

  Just then Nul collapses, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. “Vekk!” Trov shouts, as Vrid springs into action, injecting him right in the heart. Trov nods to me next, and before I can blink, Vrid’s tail is imbedded in my chest.

  A soothing, cool feeling trickles through me, followed quickly by pain. My broken bones mend with audible cracks, and my muscles knit back together. The worst pain are my wings, each little joint snapping into place as they mend themselves. It’s over in moments, and I feel better than I have in days.

  I look around and see Nul is healing, his body no longer bleeding, and watch as Vrid’s tail leaves Cryk’s heart. Carmen goes to Vrid, who pales, sweat forming on his brown. “He needs to rest after healing three of you. Healing that many wipes him out.”

  “We understand,” I say. “We appreciate you offering to help, please allow your mate to rest.” I turn to Vrid. “On behalf of Klan Avuk, I thank you for healing us.” Vrid nods and slams his fist to his chest, and I repeat the gesture back to him as he allows Carmen to assist him upstairs.

  “Do you have a tablet we can borrow?” Nul asks Ryx. Ryx nods and hands him one that’s lying on a nearby table. I’m happy to see he has been found and am anxious to hear what happened to him, but that will have to wait for another time. Right now, all that matters is Shiloh. Every moment that passes is another minute where she’s scared in captivity, another second where my heart is dying.

  I know we told Klan Marix we aren’t sure who took her.

  But we are.

  They might have won the battle, but we will win the war.

  It was the Yarek, and we’re coming for them.

  Thirty-Four

  Shiloh

  My head swims.

  No.

  This can’t be fucking happening.

  That awful chittering noise I heard on J-Lo grows louder.

  Closer.

  I try to slam my hands over my ears, thinking they might bleed if the sound gets any stronger. Heavy steps take precedence over the screeching, and I lower my hands.

  Fear crawls through me, freezing my blood in my veins. I scramble towards the back of the cell, throwing my spine against the cold metal. I curl my knees up to my body and hug
them, wanting to hide, to be as small as possible so that maybe they won’t see me. I know it’s stupid. They know I’m here, but I can’t help the desire to conceal myself.

  The smell hits me first—a retched, putrid odour that has me gagging, reminding me of the time Carmen placed a dead fish under Gren’s pillow. We’d never seen him so mad.

  Whoever was walking has stopped in front of my cell. I don’t want to look up, scared of what I might see. It’s like if I don’t look, then I can pretend this is just another nightmare. But if I see my captor, then all this is real. My mates are truly gone, and I’m held prisoner.

  The thing outside my cell drips a thick liquid onto the ground. I can hear it sizzle when it hits the floor, making me wonder what the fuck it is.

  “Feeemaaaleee.” Oh God, it’s talking to me. “Ssssstand annnnnd shhhhhowwww yourrrsssselffff.” Its voice is as awful as its smell. Sounding like a snake trying to talk underwater, it gurgles its words.

  “Fuck you,” I growl, finding my voice.

  “Ssssooooonnn.” The word is said with a threatening promise. Oh, God! Trov, Nul, Cryk, and Joss. Where are you?

  A beep sounds, and the door to my cell slides open with a clank, leaving nothing but air between me and the giant creature stepping inside. Still, I don’t look, too scared to see the nightmare stalking towards me.

  It stops in front of me, the tips of three boots resting before my toes. My eyes ignore my brain’s desire to claim ignorance and drag up the creature. Three legs sprout from a blubbering body covered in slime. It reminds me of mucus you cough up when a bad virus has settled in your chest.

  Thick, green, and yellow, the slime oozes from its grey skin, covering its clothes. I shiver in fear as my gaze goes higher. Tentacles hang low over its wide chest, twitching and moving like worms as I gape in horror. I will my eyes to stop there, not wanting to see what they are attached to.

  My scream lodges in my throat when I see its face. It looks like a mutated catfish. The worms hanging down its chest are some type of whiskers. Huge, gill-like slits line the sides of its face, allowing anyone looking to see inside their grotesque heads. My gaze crawls up farther, connecting with black, empty eyes at least five times the size of my own.