Stolen By The Cursed Alien

by Roxie Ray

  And to be fair, Ginger probably would have had news for me during our next session… if I hadn't been snatched up by a fucking alien vessel on the way there, flown off to some Godforsaken ice planet, and sold to a vampire bartender.

  Now, I'd never know whether that one chance would have panned out.

  Instead, I was stuck in the depths of outer space, trying to solve magical mysteries with my clairvoyance and getting a splitting migraine for my trouble.

  Oh, and falling for a different space vampire.

  When the hell did my whole life take a trip to the Twilight Zone?

  The door opened, and I sat up. Zark entered, carrying a tray with a small crystal cup, a bowl, and what looked like a loaf of artisanal bread. “I hope I'm not intruding,” he said. “I was telepathically monitoring you… just so I'd know when you regained consciousness, I mean. I wasn't reading any of your specific thoughts. That would have been an imposition.”

  “Well, that was very considerate of my privacy, thank you.”

  “How are you?” As he asked, he came closer, setting the tray down on the edge of the bed. When he bent down, even slightly, I could see that he was in pain but trying to hide it.

  “My head hurts a little, but I'll be fine. How are you? It looks like you're not doing so well yourself.”

  “It's nothing,” he assured me. “My limbs are a bit stiff, that's all.”

  I knew he was lying, but I didn't press the point – I didn't want to injure his pride. Instead, I asked, “What did you bring me? It smells fantastic.” My stomach growled loudly, as if on cue.

  “Spiced tea, served in a cup carved from healing gemstones – it should help you get your strength back more quickly. Green stalk-broth, to fortify you further. And a loaf of bread sweetened with blood-berries. Named only for their color, I promise,” he added with a chuckle, “so no need to worry that you're consuming actual blood. We wouldn't waste that on dishes prepared for Earthlings.”

  “So, you're going to personally nurse me back to health, are you?” I asked coyly. “How adorable.”

  “After everything we've been through together, do you honestly believe I'd trust anyone else with such an important task? Now go ahead, eat. You need sustenance.”

  As I lifted the cup to drink from it, I noticed that it glowed faintly in my hands – I could feel its warmth, its soothing and healing energies, flowing into my palms and throughout my body. When I took the first sip, it felt like pure heaven pouring down my throat and into my stomach. After a couple more, I started to feel stronger, renewed.

  “That's amazing,” I said, breaking off a piece of bread and dipping it in the broth. The flavor was sugary and hearty. “All of this is absolutely incredible. It's some of the best food I've ever tasted!”

  “I've sampled human food during my visits there,” Zark commented with a grimace, “so I know that's a rather low bar to clear. But still, thank you for the compliment.”

  I finished the tea eagerly, then wolfed down more of the bread and broth. “How long was I asleep, anyway?”

  Zark hesitated, and then said, “Two sun cycles.”

  I gasped, nearly choking on breadcrumbs. “Two days? But we didn't have that kind of time to spare! The clock is ticking, and the curse is clearly getting worse! Why the hell didn't you wake me sooner, so we could go find the damn book?”

  “Because I felt it could wait,” he replied simply.

  “But it can't, Zark! Your life is at stake! Oh, wait, shit, I probably shouldn't say things like ‘stake,’ should I? What with you being a… you know.”

  He laughed loudly, shaking his head. “Merely a human myth, my dear. We Valkredians do not fear wooden stakes through our hearts. Well, no more than any other species would, anyway. And to address your main point, your health is more important. Putting aside my own feelings for you, you're no use to me in this quest if you're catatonic and your brain is bleeding out your ears. So please, rest.”

  “That's sweet of you, and I appreciate it, but...”

  Zark held up a hand. “No ‘buts.’ We will continue our search for the book when you are ready, and not before. And remember, if you try to lie about how you're feeling…” He tapped his temple lightly. “I'll know.”

  “Yeah, except that if you open a connection between our minds in order to read my thoughts, I'll be able to read yours, too,” I reminded him. “And that means I'll know just how deep this curse has its hooks in you. I can already tell you're trying not to let it show. Given how severe it looks, I doubt you'll be able to keep that pretense up for much longer.”

  “Then let's enjoy the brief period when I will be able to, shall we? I'm in no hurry to appear as an invalid before you. That wouldn't be terribly romantic, would it? We can leave for Macur at dawn – but only if you're absolutely feeling up to it… that's about ten hours from now. Until then, perhaps you should attempt to sleep a bit more? Or at the very least, rest. I… cannot see you fade like that again, Miranda.”

  “After being passed out for two whole days, Zark, more sleep is the last thing I want. Do you have anything else around here that could help pass the time?”

  Zark thought it over for a moment, then smiled, crossing the room and opening a drawer. “Funny you should ask, actually! I almost forgot. Carly wanted you to have this. Another amusing trifle the Svanteians imported from Earth.”

  He rummaged for a few seconds, then exclaimed triumphantly, pulling out an object the shape and size of a dime and holding it between his thumb and forefinger.

  “What is it?” I asked, puzzled.

  “The technology is Svanteian,” he explained, bringing it over to me, “but the contents are Earthling. Motion pictures, I believe they're called? Of many different types, from many different eras. Over the years, the Svanteians have found that their human mates value these artistic artifacts tremendously. They tend to have strong emotional connections to many of them, as they do with certain books.”

  “Movies,” I said, looking at the tiny device in awe. “How many of them are on this thing?”

  “Roughly twelve thousand, if I'm not mistaken.”

  I couldn't believe my ears. “Have you ever seen any of them?”

  “I have not,” he confessed, dropping the small disc into my palm. “Perhaps you might choose a suitable one to introduce me to them?”

  “How can I see which ones are on here?”

  “The circuitry is synapse-intuitive.” Zark saw my confusion and added, “Essentially, the controls are thought-based. If you ask to see the contents, they will be displayed accordingly.”

  I stared down and concentrated, and sure enough, a glowing holographic screen blinked into existence, hovering above my hand. There were so many titles listed that I almost felt myself going cross-eyed as I scrolled through, trying to read and process all of them. A lot of them were familiar, and a lot more of them weren't. Comedy, drama, action, horror, science fiction…

  “Wait,” I said with a grin. “I think I've found the perfect one.”

  “Is it something you've seen many times before?” he asked, tilting his head.

  “Actually, I've never watched it. But I remember hearing about it once or twice, and somehow, it seems appropriate. Here, do I have to touch the screen to select it, or…?”

  “No, just think the title and it should begin to play.”

  I did, and then set the disc down on the bedspread as the screen expanded and the film began to play. When he saw the name of the movie in the opening credits, Zark cackled gleefully. “Oh, Miranda, your sense of humor never fails! What a perfect choice – I can't wait!”

  I'd selected Planet of the Vampires, a 1965 B-movie. Half the cast was made up of American actors, while the other half were Italian. Why? I had no idea. But it was hilarious – the performances were ridiculously hammy, the sets and costumes were cheap crap, and the gore was fake, splashy, and completely over the top.

  Zark loved it. He couldn't stop giggling through the entire flick. At one point,
he laughed so hard that he actually fell off the bed.

  As it turned out, it wasn't about “vampires” exactly – it was more about alien spirits who possessed dead bodies and used them to stalk the living astronauts who landed on their planet. Even so, we both had a lot of fun watching it together, and when it was over, Zark asked if I knew any other movies that were as entertaining as that one had been.

  I was tempted to pick out another vampire-themed classic, but I didn't want Zark to feel like I was trying to make fun of him. Instead, I went with Gone With the Wind. This time, Zark didn't laugh much – if anything, he seemed profoundly affected by the depiction of the Civil War, saying it reminded him of the recent prolonged conflict with the Mana and the horrible toll it had taken on his people. He also pointed out that the stormy relationship between Rhett and Scarlett made him think of how Akzun's courtship of Carly had begun.

  Despite what I'd said earlier about wanting to stay awake, it turned out that I was still feeling pretty drained after my recent ordeal – and halfway through the movie, my eyelids started to get heavy. As I drifted off, I felt Zark's fingers running through my hair gently. He didn't say anything, but I could still hear his thoughts whispering in my mind.

  A pity. I may not even have one lifetime to live… yet I would gladly spend a thousand of them with you.

  16

  Zark

  The next day, when Miranda woke up, she insisted that she was ready for the voyage to Macur – and, hopefully, the long-awaited end of our quest. I'd been bluffing about reading her mind and determining whether she was truly healed… she'd gotten so familiar with my telepathic patterns that she was able to block them, so I had to take her word for it.

  The truth was, I selfishly wanted – no, needed – to believe her. It was taking all of my self-control to hide the symptoms of the curse. Every movement was agony, and I needed to make sure I’d be strong enough to face off against Torqa if it came to that. And most importantly, I needed to maintain my ability to protect Miranda.

  I tried to banish these waking nightmares from my mind as I settled into the command chair of the Angel's Wrath, keying the coordinates for Macur into the navigational computer. Miranda sat next to me, stroking the back of my neck with one hand as she read from a data pad with the other.

  I didn't have the heart to tell her that thanks to Respen's curse, even her tender touch felt like needles being shoved deep into my flesh.

  Before we came aboard, Miranda said she wanted to know more about the planet we were traveling to, and its natives, as well. I certainly couldn't blame her – she'd had more than enough nasty scares from strange new worlds and alien races since her abduction, so it made sense that she'd want to be as prepared as possible going forward.

  But how could I possibly explain an entire planet and its civilization to her in the time it would take for us to get there? What if I left out crucial details that she specifically wanted to learn? For that matter, what if I didn't have the answers she needed? I was a prince and a diplomat, after all, not an encyclopedia.

  The data pad I gave her was programmed with all known information about Macur, as well as every other inhabited planet in the galaxy.

  “Are you learning anything interesting?” I asked as the ship lifted off and headed for Macur.

  “A lot, actually. But I still haven't gotten the hang of the search options, so it's hard for me to get the answers to specific questions.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, for starters, what's Valkred's history with the Macurians?”

  “Ah. There's not much to tell where that's concerned.” I stretched my legs, hoping it would help with the pain. It didn't. “They're not quite as advanced as we are. They're tribal, somewhat primitive in certain ways. We trade them low-grade technology in exchange for some of their more valuable natural resources, including several edible delicacies. This relationship has been in place for centuries.”

  “And there have never been any hostilities between your planets?”

  I nodded. It was a sensible question, given everything she'd seen recently. “We've never had any trouble with them, no. Not officially, at any rate. Like every race, there have been a few random offshoots who've taken to the stars as pirates and raiders… but even in those infrequent cases, they tend to avoid altercations with Valkredians, since they know they'd be hopelessly outgunned. On Macur itself, each tribe has its guardians, its warriors. As a whole, though, they have no organized military. They're largely a peaceful people.”

  “If that's true, what does Torqa want with them?”

  “I don't know,” I replied, frowning. “Nothing good, that's for sure. She could potentially dominate and enslave them. Arm them with advanced weaponry, and turn them into expendable soldiers for her cause. Unite them as a force to help her conquer the Mana and seize political power on Valkred.”

  Miranda's expression darkened. “That's a grim thought. If she does, what are the chances she'd succeed?”

  “Hard to say. Under normal circumstances, even with a cadre of mercenaries and an army of Macurians at her command, she'd still be soundly defeated by the Valkredian forces. But these are hardly normal circumstances. Our empire is still recovering from our war with the Mana. And there are several factions within our own fleets that share Torqa's ideology and might choose to support her.”

  “Makes sense,” Miranda said quietly, returning to the data pad.

  We sat in silence for a long time – she kept reading as I watched the stars streak by at faster-than-light speeds. At one point, I glanced over at her and saw that her nose was scrunched up.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “I, uh, just got to the part about Macurian mating rituals,” she said.

  I laughed. “Ah, yes! Intriguing, isn't it? In fact, in my capacity as a diplomatic envoy, I'm one of the few off-worlders who's actually seen their annual mating ceremony firsthand. It was quite an honor. Five sun cycles of feasting, dancing, music, celebrating…”

  “Is that before or after they see who can lift and hold the most weight?”

  “The bulk of the festival takes place afterward. The females chosen by the winners use that time to pamper their new mates… often by soothing the males' strained muscles with ice, salves, and herbs. This provides adequate time for healing before the consummation occurs. In private, of course,” I added quickly. “It's really quite a sight. They lift bundles of sticks, heavy stones. They spend many moon cycles training for it. If we manage to survive this journey, perhaps I'll take you to see it some time.”

  Miranda giggled. “I'll pass, thanks. So, what about you Valkredians? What are your mating rituals? I'm assuming it doesn't involve lifting weights.”

  “No, it doesn't. Our rituals are far more simple and straightforward – not so different from those of humans, in fact. We believe that a predetermined mate exists for each of us, someone we're meant to dedicate ourselves to forever, and we spend our lives searching for them. Generally, when we finally encounter them, we know because our feelings of desire and passion overwhelm us almost immediately.”

  “Which is why you threw me over your shoulder and hauled me out of The Vein the moment you saw me?” she guessed.

  “Correct.”

  “So you're totally convinced I'm your mate, then. That we're meant to be together.”

  I nodded. “I realize this must sound bizarre to you…”

  “No, like you said, we have a similar notion on Earth,” she mused. “Well, some of us do, anyway. ‘Love at first sight.’ We just… don't necessarily act on it the same way you guys do. Which is funny, since our life spans are shorter than yours, so you'd think we'd be in more of a hurry. Does everyone on Valkred eventually find their mate?”

  “Not everyone.”

  “What do they do if they don't?”

  I shrugged. “Some choose to settle for mere companionship. Others decide to remain alone. It's a personal preference.”

  “But Zark…” She paused, lick
ed her lips nervously, and went on. “Let's say your instincts are right, and we're meant to be mates. I mean, I still don't know if I believe that a hundred percent, because the idea basically ignores a zillion other factors… even so, I've certainly seen weirder stuff in my life, so okay. Fine. What if I die while we're on Macur? What if we don't find the book, and the curse kills you? Or shit, what if we do find the book and you have to hold up your end of the bargain to send me back to Earth? Either way, it would mean that one of us lost our one true chance at happiness in the universe, wouldn't it?”

  “That is the way of things everywhere when species mate for life, even on your planet. It is what it is. Sometimes, we simply have no control over such things.”

  I tried to sound matter-of-fact, but even saying the words made my heart ache. She was right, of course. If she were killed, I'd be alone for the rest of my life, even if I returned the book to Respen and he lifted the curse. If that happened, would I even want to keep on living?

  And if I died, but she lived on? Who would protect her in such a harsh and unforgiving galaxy?

  I could sense her sadness at this line of questioning, her sudden desire to change the subject. “What about feeding? You know… blood? How long has it been since you had any? Won't you be needing some soon, in order to survive?”

  I laughed. “Ordinarily, you'd be right. But that seems to be the one positive side effect of this thrice-damned curse – I haven't had any true appetite for blood in quite some time. One less distraction to deal with, I suppose.”

  She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. But even though I wasn't trying to read her thoughts, I still heard the faintest whisper of them flit across my mind: You could drink from me, if you needed to. I wouldn't mind. Really.

  17

  Miranda

  I tried to focus on the data pad, but I kept thinking about the things Zark had said.