Sticks and Stones

by Tamsin Ley

  Instead, the icy sensation she’d felt during Lab Guy’s blood draw seemed to fill her bones and her skin prickled like static electricity raced across it. It hurt enough to bring tears to her eyes, but instinct told her the sensation was not harmful. It was more like the way growing pains used to feel when she was a kid. She listened to the men talking around her.

  “When is the equipment arriving? I need x-rays.” That sounded like Lab Guy.

  “Thunderstorms are keeping flights from coming in. I told you we should have waited.”

  “Secure her.” That was York. “I don’t want her escaping.”

  “I’d advise against anything except a backboard,” Lab Guy said. “If she vomits we need to be able to turn her. Besides, a fall like that breaks bones. She’s not getting up anytime soon.”

  “What about the baby?” York asked, and she had to force herself not to reach for her belly.

  Was she really pregnant? Or were they mistaking her hybrid DNA for pregnancy? Either way, she knew these men would never let her go. Letting them believe she was unconscious might be her only advantage at the moment.

  “I can’t tell you anything without equipment,” Lab guy was saying. “We don’t even know how far along she is yet. Are you certain she wasn’t hit with one of the darts? I need to administer the antidote right away if she was. The dose is too much for someone her size.”

  “I don’t know, Sir.”

  A frustrated sigh. “Take another blood sample and figure it out. Right now I need to deal with the creature. I want every pair of handcuffs in our possession on him until the rest of our equipment arrives.”

  Sten! They were talking about Sten. Keeping her eyes closed was one of the hardest things she’d ever had to do. Was he okay? She consoled herself with the thought that if they were talking about restraining him, that meant he was still alive.

  “How long will the sedative from the dart keep him under?” The voices moved away and she felt someone slide a backboard under her. How many men were left with her? She waited until she felt herself being carried before cracking one eye barely open.

  They moved her between the towering rows and into a brightly lit area surrounded in clear plastic, like one of those sterile tents on TV shows. A table with a microscope and other lab equipment sat on the far end. She sealed her eye shut as they set her on an exam table.

  “You need me for anything else?”

  Lab Guy’s voice replied, “I’ve got it from here. Go help with the alien.”

  She listened to retreating footsteps while fingers prodded the crook of her elbow. Cracking one eye again, she saw Lab Guy bent over her arm with a needle. If she was going to do anything, now might be her best chance. Whipping her free arm up, she balled her fist and drove it against his temple with a sickening crack.

  He crumpled to the floor. While he was still writhing, she swung her feet around and slid off the table. The medical tray next to her held a pair of handcuffs, so she grabbed them and yanked his arms behind him. She bound his ankles with the rubber tubing he’d looped around her upper arm. He groaned, and she knew all it would take was a cry for assistance and she’d lose her advantage. She snatched some cotton balls off the medical tray and stuffed them into his mouth before strapping a piece of tape across his lips. Not bad for her first tie-up job. Hopefully, it would be her last.

  She stood and looked at her fist, expecting mangled fingers, bloody knuckles. Her hand was unmarred, but her skin looked gray. Stone-like. Sten-like. She let out a breath of a laugh. Had she just made her fist into stone? Was that how she’d survived the fall? She looked down at the rest of her below the hem of her gaping robe, but her skin looked normal and pink. She didn’t have time for self-contemplation, however. Feeling naked in nothing but her lingerie and robe, she tightened her sash and looked around the tent.

  The butt of a pistol hung part way out of the pocket of Lab Guy’s coat. It looked a little different from the handguns she’d used in the past, and when she pulled the magazine, she saw three tiny darts instead of bullets. She transferred it to the pocket of her robe, regretting not stealing his lab coat before cuffing him.

  Glancing around the sparse lab, she found a scalpel and tucked that into her other pocket. Whether she could shift her fist to stone or not, she didn’t want to go face the rest of these men without weapons. Then she picked up a syringe filled with a clear liquid from the tray. It must be the antidote they were talking about. She didn’t need it, but they’d said Sten had been hit with a dart. The antidote might be useful if she found him.

  As she left the lab area, she glanced toward the ceiling. Had she survived that fall unscathed because she’d shifted to stone? Or had she healed like Sten had that first night she’d shot him? It didn’t really matter. It seemed as if her Khargal heritage was finally emerging. What else might she be able to do?

  Voices came from somewhere deeper in the warehouse, and she moved cautiously down the row toward them. Nearing the end of a line of pallets, she peered around the edge to find one of the men in suits talking to York. “—sure you’re demoted to data entry by the time this is over.”

  York sneered at him. “You were in charge of firepower in this operation.”

  At the men’s feet, Sten lay on his belly, hands cuffed behind him and wings bound to his torso with multiple coils of rope. Angie sucked in a breath and pulled back so she wouldn’t be seen.

  The agent’s voice could be heard from around the corner. “Operation? This isn’t an operation, it’s a complete fuck up. We don’t even have a full team, and that storm’s keeping air traffic grounded. If this thing wakes up, ropes and handcuffs aren’t going to hold him. I don’t know what they were thinking letting you loose in the field.”

  “I requested backup days ago and they sent me you. Even when I warned them the gargoyle was on the move. I’ve analyzed enough cases to know when we’re about to lose a lead.”

  The agent’s voice became a mutter that Angie had to strain to hear. “You hired people outside of the organization, and now not only do we have to create a cover up for the woman you abducted, but that guard at the door is dead. That’s not going to be cheap or easily swept under the rug.”

  “It will all be worth it in the end.” York was all but crowing. “We’ve put our hands on the trifecta the Syndicate has been looking for since its inception. A living alien specimen, his technology, and a female carrying his hybrid spawn. We’re going to go down in history.”

  Angie felt sick. Her hand slid to the gun in her pocket. She had three shots, but she only needed two, right? Taking a deep breath, she prepared to swing around the corner.

  Someone shouted from down the row behind her. “Hey!”

  She spun, gun ready, and squeezed off a round at a man running toward her. The missile flew true, sinking into the man’s shoulder. He made a gargling sound and sank to his knees. Behind her she heard York and the agent’s footsteps approaching at a run. She whirled again, coming face-to face with the agent.

  His teeth were bared, and he knocked the gun aside. It clattered to the floor. He reached for her.

  Angie screamed, more of a war cry than fear, and ducked beneath his grasp. He seemed surprised when she dove into him instead of trying to get away. She slammed into his belly, sending a whoosh of air from him.

  Tripping backward under her attack, he collided with York, who was right on his heels. York let out a startled cry, hands flying out. All three of them tumbled to the concrete floor, the men grappling for her. She squirmed free of the agent, only to have her head yanked back by the hair. York shouted, “Don’t let her get away!”

  “Sten, wake up!” she screamed, twisting against York’s grip. “Sten!”

  “Is that what you call him?” York twisted her head hard to one side and pressed her face against the concrete.

  “Get off me.” She drove an elbow into his gut and rolled to one side.

  The agent had gotten to his feet, pulling his gun out and pointing it down at
her. Thunder rumbled outside. “Don’t make me shoot you.”

  She laughed, heart hammering as she stared down the barrel only a few feet from her face. “You won’t shoot me. Not if you want this baby to live.”

  Once more baring his teeth, the agent swung the gun away from her—toward Sten. Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he said, “Then don’t make me shoot him.”

  She’d been calling his bluff when he’d pointed the gun at her. Now it was her turn to bluff. “Go ahead. I already shot him once. He’s bullet proof.”

  The man’s face twitched with indecision.

  That was all she needed. She kicked him in the kneecap, willing her foot to be as strong as her fist had been.

  The crack of bone filled the air and he let out a strangled cry. “You bitch!”

  Instead of falling away from her, he collapsed on top of her, pinning both arms around her thighs. Shit! She hadn’t expected that.

  York pounced again, wrestling her hands up over her head. The agent belly-crawled up her body, holding her down with his weight while his hands pinned her arms. “Go take a pair of cuffs off that gargoyle so we can secure her.”

  “Is that wise?” York sat back on his heels. “You said he could break free even with his current bindings.”

  Angie struggled uselessly. This guy was heavier than he looked.

  “Secure the female and we’ll use her as leverage if he wakes up.” The agent’s breath smelled like stale coffee.

  Desperate, she clamped her teeth onto his shoulder, wishing she’d developed a Khargal’s canines. She couldn’t break through his suit’s fabric, but he shouted and tightened his hold. “You’re going to pay for that.”

  An explosion of movement erupted near York. Angie released her jaw and turned her head as York fell back. Sten had risen, wings shuddering and claws extended. His emerald eyes gleamed as his gaze met hers.

  Ignoring the fallen York, he reached her in a single bound.

  “Don’t come any closer.” The agent grabbed her throat with both hands. “I’ll strangle her.”

  Her hands flew to his, trying to pry him free. For the briefest moment, her airway cut off. Then Sten ripped the man free. One handed, he flung the guy into the nearby row of pallets. The impact rocked the stack, and for a moment Angie feared it might collapse and bury them all.

  She scrambled to her knees, spotting her gun on the floor a few feet away. As she lunged for it, she saw York rise, wielding his own gun.

  “Sten, behind you!” she shouted.

  Sten spun, but it was too late.

  York fired. Sten shuddered and collapsed to one knee. A deafening roar escaped him. He reached for York. His frame shuddered and he toppled sideways.

  “No!” Angie brought her own gun up and squeezed the trigger. York’s mouth formed a perfect circle as he gargled something that might have been an attempt at speech. Body stiff as a board, he tipped forward onto his face.

  Angie rushed to Sten’s side. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing. “Sten?”

  The agent made a sound, and she looked over her shoulder to find him on his belly clawing his way toward his gun. Gritting her teeth, she darted over to where York had dropped his weapon and fired a dart into the agent’s backside. He wilted against the concrete. Part of her wished the gun had real bullets.

  Dropping to Sten’s side, she shook him, expecting his usual stony exterior, but his flesh was warm and pliable. Definitely not the duramna. Grabbing both of his arms, she tried to drag him. They had to get out of this warehouse before backup arrived. But even moving him a few inches left her breathless. He might not be stone, but he was still too heavy for her to move.

  “Sten, wake up!” She smacked his cheek, breathing hard from her efforts. No response. She had to find a way to get him out of here.

  Rising, she scoured the immediate area. Rain beat a heavy staccato against the roof, echoing through the vast building. Certainly a warehouse had handcarts or something? All she could see were pallets. She looked down into her mate’s face. “I’ll be back.”

  Dashing toward the lab, she skidded to a halt, scanning the warehouse for something to use. Lab Guy still lay bound on the floor, eyes closed. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed, and her heart skipped a beat.

  Then she remembered the syringe in her pocket. She fumbled it free, staring at the clear liquid inside. It wasn’t labeled, but she assumed the antidote. What if she was wrong? Kneeling by Lab Guy, she shook him, but he was unresponsive. Dammit. A tiny refrigerator sat on the table next to the microscope. She opened it, but the bottles and vials inside meant nothing to her.

  Was the siren drawing closer? She darted toward the door of the nearby office. No handcart. Not even a rolling chair.

  She let out a frustrated scream, then spun and ran down the other side of the warehouse, eyes peeled for a forklift or cart or even a skateboard. Anything that might help her move Sten. By the time she’d made a full circle and stood next to Sten once more, she knew she was out of options. She could hardly catch her breath past the stitch in her side. As she pulled the cap off the needle, her ragged breathing became a sob.

  “Please don’t die,” she whispered, and jabbed the needle into Sten’s arm.

  Sten jolted awake.

  Angie was pressing kisses against his forehead. Her face was wet with tears. “Oh, God,” she kept repeating. “Oh, God.”

  He reached up and touched her cheek, unable to believe he wasn’t dreaming. He’d seen her hit the floor. Had been sure he’d never see his beautiful mate again. “How are you alive?”

  “We don’t have time to talk. More of them are on the way.” She grabbed his arm and tugged until he sat up. “Can you walk?”

  Whatever tranquilizer had been in that dart was powerful. He felt drunk, but wavered to his feet.

  “Do you feel okay?” She ducked under his arm to support him. “They talked about an antidote, but I wasn’t sure what that injection would do to you.”

  “I will be fine,” he said, despite the way he was having trouble focusing. His gaze swept the two men on the concrete. “Is this all of them?”

  “There are two more through there.” She pointed past the stacks. “York said something about not having a full team yet.”

  “Fortunate.” He took a wobbling step, regaining his equilibrium as she guided him. His wings hung numbly against his back, and he didn’t have the strength to retract them. “I must get you away from here immediately. Especially if you are with child.” He’d believed finding his Hondassa was the ultimate gift; the thought of a family, of fledglings of his own, gave him new strength.

  “You don’t really think I could be pregnant, do you?”

  He gave her a sideways smile. “The fecundity of your species has always amazed me.”

  “Could they just be mistaking my hybrid DNA for a pregnancy?”

  “I do not know enough about the tests to judge, but I suppose that is possible.” His chest tightened, surprising him. He would be disappointed if the test had been a mistake. “Either way, I must get you out of danger. Last night I received word that my people have sent a rescue ship. We will go back to Duras where it will be safe.”

  “D-duras?” She paused. “Leave Earth?”

  He turned to her, taking her face between his palms. He knew how much her home meant to her, and now he was telling her she needed to leave it and her entire planet behind. “I am sorry, my love. You will never be safe here. Not with men like these after you.”

  “Is the ship here now?”

  “Not yet, but soon.”

  She nodded mutely. He could tell she was trying her best to be brave, and he wanted to talk to her about it, but now wasn’t the time.

  They continued to the exit and he pushed open the door to peer into sheets of water falling from the sky. The smell of ozone and wet pavement wafted inside. “I hid my sigil inside the seat cushion of a nearby vehicle. We must retrieve it before we go.”

  “Oh, no! The sigil! They
took mine.” Without warning, she turned back and disappeared between the row of pallets.

  “Angie, wait!” Sten careened into one of the stacks in his unsteady pursuit of her, wing cramping. “You don’t need it.”

  Angie had already dropped to her knees next to York and was rummaging through his pockets. Thankfully, both men remained prone and unmoving. “What about your Prime Directive?”

  “Any sigils left behind when the rescue ship teleports us onboard will self-destruct to prevent them from falling into the wrong hands.”

  “Doesn’t matter now. I got it.” She held the red-faceted necklace up. “Let’s go!”

  A wave of vertigo rocked him, and he had to pause and lean against a pallet.

  “What is it?” Angie hurried to his side, once more placing his arm over her shoulders.

  “I believe the drug they gave me is still having an effect.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This was no time for weakness. Not when his Hondassa was in danger. “I will be fine. Proceed.”

  They wove back toward the office and exited into the driving rain. Lightning flashed somewhere in the east, and a few moments later, thunder rolled through the air. Somewhere on the next block, a truck’s backup signal beeped. Although the sky was still dark, morning was upon them, and the city was awakening. They had to get far away from here.

  Sten took Angie in his arms and extended his wings. White-hot pain lanced through him. He stumbled forward, nearly tripping.

  Her feet backpedaled as his weight slammed into her. She let out a sharp breath. “What is it?”

  Sten tested his wing again, realizing why he’d felt so numb. “I believe my wing is dislocated. I cannot fly.”

  14

  At every intersection, Angie peered around the corner of the building, praying for no traffic while they crossed to the next block. Sten was not only injured, he couldn’t retract his wings to hide them. They had to find a place for him to rest and heal. At least the downpour and the early morning light made it more difficult for people to see them, even if it made walking miserable. Her robe hung against her shoulders in irritating folds and stuck to her thighs, reminding her of how naked she was. If Sten didn’t attract attention, then she surely would.