by Webster, K
“And he sent you here to take us back, is that it?” Zoe interrupts.
“He sent us here to bring back family,” Hadrian answers quietly, a preternatural stillness settling over his muscled frame. “Aria’s and Molly’s. They’re our family.” He catches Willow’s eyes. “Which means you are, too. We won’t be leaving without you, that is true. I won’t let Aria down that way. No matter how long it takes to convince you.”
“By convince, you mean kidnapping us.”
“Let him talk, Zoe,” Willow says.
“I am letting him talk. All I’m hearing are excuses.”
Willow rolls her eyes, but they’re too bright with excitement to be dismissive. “Are you having any luck?”
“The system seems to be similar to the one we use at the facility. I should be able to patch into the comms system at the facility—or at least Sayer said as much.”
“So you don’t even know if you can talk to them? Great,” Zoe says.
“Are you always so negative, little one?” Hadrian says. “I want this to work as much as you do. I don’t want to stay here. My life is back at the Facility. The sooner I can get in communication with them, the faster I can go home.”
Home. Back to Aria.
The excitement at the prospect of talking to her again dulls a little when I remember Hadrian loves her. I try not to think about how it had felt having Aria always in the spotlight. Having everyone constantly telling me I’d never be as good as her, make as much money as her, live up to her.
The thrill I’d felt with Hadrian pales knowing he loves her. Of course he does. Aria has always been beautiful, talented, and kind.
How could I ever compare?
Pushing the thought from my mind, I cross the room to Hadrian’s side. I don’t understand one iota of what he’s doing, but I’m too anxious to pace around the room. No matter how I feel about myself, I love my sister. All I’ve wanted since she was taken from me was to get her back.
Hadrian lifts the microphone to his mouth. “Facility. This is Hadrian Alosius, please respond.”
Blank, white noise fills the speakers. My heart beats a rapid tattoo in my chest. Hadrian repeats his call and we wait. Still no response.
“Are they sleeping?” Willow asks, disappointment evident in the downturn of her bowed lips.
“No, there will always be someone stationed in the communication bay, especially since we’re out on the Mayvina. Even if there’s not, Uvie, our computer, will notify Breccan the moment they receive a communication. Something must be wrong with the equipment.”
“The antenna on the mountains sustained damage during a recent storm. It will need to be repaired if we want to communicate beyond that boundary. We haven’t tried up to this point as we haven’t seen the need.”
Zoe motions for me to follow her to the hall. With a regretful look at Hadrian and the microphone that will connect me with my sister, I join her.
“If he wants to repair the antenna, that means someone will have to go outside the prison—to the mountains. He’ll have to go too. You can’t consider it. It’s not safe.”
Travel outside the prison. I’d never gone farther than the walls surrounding the prison—not even after we overthrew the guards. The land surrounding us is simply too dangerous, the radiation too deadly. Incredibly, the prison is the safest place for us.
“I’ll do what I have to do,” I answer.
“You’re crazy. These monsters show up and you’re willing to throw away everything we’ve worked for.”
“You know me better than that, Zoe. I’m trying to do what’s best for everyone. If the mountains are blocking the signal and we do have to travel in order to communicate with our families, I will do what’s necessary to ensure that happens.” I cut her off before she can argue. “End of discussion. Go check on the rest and make sure they’re okay. I’ll stay with Willow and Hadrian.”
She gives me one last beseeching look, then does as I ask.
A headache begins to brew just behind my eyes. I haven’t had much sleep since I heard the first call from their vessel. Excitement, fear, anticipation have all been thudding through my system, leaving me unable to sleep, unable to do anything other than wait.
I push off from the wall and go back to Hadrian and Willow. The white noise still fills the speakers. “Any luck?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Willow says, forlorn. “Something’s wrong.”
I nod. “Zoe mentioned we may need to go to the top of the ridge for the signal to get out of the valley.”
At this, Hadrian swivels around in the chair to look at me. “I thought we were only allowed to roam in our section?”
“I didn’t say you were going to go alone.” I swallow hard. “I’ll be going with you.”
6
Hadrian
“No.”
Her eyes bug out of her nog. “What do you mean no? Must I remind you that you’re a prisoner here until we can make contact with my sister?”
I stop my spinning and rise from my seat. Willow eyes me warily as she inspects the zap stick. They see me as some sort of angry beast. But these aliens have no idea what lies beyond the safe walls of this prison. No idea.
“Female—”
“Lyric,” she bites out.
I roll my eyes, earning an exasperated look from her. “Impossible female, have you ever been out there?”
Her gaze hardens. “No. The prison is self-sustaining for the most part. We haven’t had the need to leave just yet.”
I walk slowly to Lyric in the doorway. The buzz of Zoe’s abandoned weapon crackles in the air behind me in Willow’s grip, but I ignore it. When I reach Lyric, I bare my fangs at her. Her eyes widen.
“These double fangs are nothing compared to that of a full grown sabrevipe. They’re vicious, hungry, and ruthless.” I wiggle my clawed fingers at her. “These claws are nothing like the sharp teeth of an armworm. Did you know armworms prefer it high up?” I glower at her. “Like in the mountains.”
She swallows, a glimmer of fear dancing in her eyes.
I grip the top of the door, leaning closer to Lyric. Rather than moving away, she tilts her nog up at me, her pretty lips parting. My chest barely brushes against hers.
“There are predators out there much larger than you, female,” I warn, inhaling her sweet scent.
Her eyes dart somewhere behind me, but I’m not afraid of Willow and the worthless zap stick.
“Oh, whatever will I do out there in the wilderness?” Lyric taunts in a high-pitched voice. “Being a lowly female and all…” She snarls at me. “That’s right. I’ll survive. I’m really fucking good at that.”
With those words, she knees me.
Right in the rekking sac!
I roar in pain, falling to my rump hard, tenderly clutching my sore sac. It’s happened a few times in training—getting hit there—and it’ll knock a grown mort to his knees. I’ve even seen Breccan go down after a hit to the sac.
Willow presses the end of the zap stick to the side of my neck. It pulses with energy, slightly irritating the flesh there. “This can go to a hundred,” Willow warns. “We’re at two. Don’t test me. I really don’t want to hurt you.” She sounds just like Molly, which makes my chest pang.
Lyric sneers down at me. “We leave at daybreak. I’ll pack for us. I want no argument from you.”
“Lyric,” I try, hissing through the pain that pulsates between my thighs. “Rethink this. Let’s try reaching them from the ship.”
“You can fly it?” she challenges.
“No,” I grumble. “Not yet. I’m learning.”
“Neither can I,” she says. “And I’m not going off with two aliens. I’m not stupid.”
“You’re not smart either,” I growl. “You’re willingly setting off into treacherous areas to prove a point. That you’re the leader. That you’re the strong one.” It’s unwise to argue with a woman who looks like she wants to smash my sac some more, but I must. “I have been trained to become a l
eader. Learned from the very best.” Pride surges through me. Breccan is the very best. It’s why Aria chose him. Ignoring the pain, I continue. “You don’t know what’s out there.”
“Don’t underestimate my power of intuition. I’m a leader, kid, and I know how to keep myself safe. You’re still learning how to be one.”
I bristle at her words, scowling. “When I save you from a rekking beast, I’m going to say I told you so.”
She grips my hand and helps me to my feet. The warmth of her skin seems to make my skin buzz with energy. “And when I have to save you, I’m going to make you eat your words.”
Arrogance will get you sent to The Eternals. Breccan drilled that into my nog more times than I can count. Unfortunately, it’s something you have to learn on your own. I of all beings know this.
Giving her an easy grin, I flash my rogstud horns symbol and nod at her. “After you, leader.”
Her eyes narrow, but she lifts her chin in a way that reminds me of her sister. Defiant. Calculating. Strong. I just hope I can keep her safe out there.
* * *
I have a bad feeling. A sense of foreboding. Negative pulsing making its way through my bones. And it’s not because Lyric and I are leaving this solar to try to communicate with the Facility.
Something else.
I try to remember my mother, but it’s always a useless endeavor. She went to The Eternals long ago. I can’t remember her voice or her scent. I’d like to think she was something like Molly. Sweet, funny, caring. Breccan raised me as his own, and though he boils my blood sometimes because he has what I want, I love him with every part of my being.
If my mother were here—if Breccan were here—they’d feel it too. I wanted to speak with Theron to ask if he felt the same, but Lyric was in a rush at dawn to leave. Our packs are loaded down with supplies, by the east decontamination bay door, and my sub-bones vibrate with the need to pop, readying my battle stance.
But why?
The sound of wind whistling makes me stiffen. Lyric lets out a huff, storming over to the bay. As soon as she starts to fling the door open, I know why.
The outer door is standing wide-open.
“Lyric!” I roar, racing over to her. “No!”
My shouts alarm her and she freezes as she practically melds her body against the door. I slam my palm on the surface, making sure it remains shut, my breaths heaving.
“Why don’t you have your zuta-gear on?” I rasp, my heart racing with fear. What was she thinking going out there unprotected?
“My what?” she whispers, her eyes glassy with unshed tears.
I frightened her. Tough, strong, mouthy Lyric. I made her afraid. It makes me feel sick inside. I shouldn’t care because she kneed me in the rekking sac the solar before, but I can’t help it. Gently, I raise my hand and stroke a claw through her hair, tucking it behind her ear so I can see her face.
Wide blue eyes. A pert, freckled nose. Pale pink skin that darkens with her moods. Soft brown hair.
“Hadrian,” she murmurs, her voice soft.
Not alien or monster or whatever else she likes to call me.
Hadrian.
It has my spine straightening, the need to protect her intense. “You can’t go out there unprotected. It’s not safe. There’s more than just beasts.”
Her brows furl. “More? Not safe? Explain.”
“Mortuus has high R-levels. They’re responsible for mutations and disease,” I tell her firmly. “You absolutely cannot go out there unprotected. These decontamination bays exist for a reason. All food must be checked before entering as to not poison the people.”
I can’t believe she nearly went out there unprotected. If Calix knew this, he’d have a fit. These aliens are alone here in this prison without proper knowledge of our planet. They’re in danger.
What would Breccan do?
He’d put his foot down and take control.
Yeah, rekking right. Like Lyric will allow that.
Think.
“Lyric,” I say softly, so she doesn’t react again and knee me in the sac. “I need you to pass on to the others how important it is to stay indoors. Allow Theron to explain to Zoe and Willow and the others the decontamination processes. He can give them insight on the harmful things your people are up against.” I give her a pleading look that has her relaxing.
“Okay.”
Okay?
I cock my nog in confusion. Did she just agree with me? Without argument?
“Now move, you big, ugly monster before I make you,” she hisses, pressing a magknife to my sternum.
There she is.
Bold. Fiery. Brave.
Fierce female.
Flashing her a wide grin that shows my double fangs, I let my gaze peruse her face for a lingering moment, pausing at her lips. She licks them, causing a rumbling growl to vibrate through me.
“Hadrian,” she rasps. “Step away. We have a mission.”
“Thanks for trusting me,” I murmur, leaning in to her ear. “I won’t let you down.”
Instead of tossing a snarky comment back at me, she nods. “Thank you.”
* * *
As the females discuss the newest development—the rekking door being left open—I pull Theron aside. Our mission has been delayed slightly. Both Theron and I’d been shot down when we again suggested we take the Mayvina up so we can reach Sayer and the rest.
Stubborn females.
“Work on Willow. She’s a lot like Molly. If anyone can see some sense, it’d be her,” I instruct, my voice low. “Get into the Mayvina and make contact with the Facility. We need Calix’s insight and advice.”
Theron smirks at me.
“What?” I demand.
“Nothing.”
I whap him upside his nog with my hand. “Sure doesn’t rekking look like nothing.”
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yeah, you piece of rogshite. You’re the only you I’m looking at.”
“Are you going to elaborate or are you going to make me beg?”
“Begging is nice.”
I glower at him until he laughs.
“That. Right there. You, my little mortling, are growing up. You have the Breccan scowl down pat. I can’t wait to tell him.”
I chuckle and shove him. “You’re annoying.”
“You like it.” He waggles his brows at me.
“Okay, Tweedledee and Tweedledum, quit playing. It’s time to roll out,” Lyric barks out.
I pull Theron to me and hug him. I’m not sure what we’ll run into out there, but I need to draw strength from him. He hugs me back.
“You’ve got this, Hadrian.”
We pull apart and I walk with Lyric to another side of the prison where the zu-gear is located. I help her find a suit that fits properly and check it obsessively. She grows impatient, but this is a battle she won’t win. Once I’m convinced it’s free of tears or holes, I raise my arms so she can check mine as well. I expect her to rush through it, but she takes her time.
“Tell me about The Rades. You’ve mentioned it. I want to know more.”
I let out a heavy sigh. “Its mortality rate is high if contracted. We have one survivor in our Facility. Draven. He nearly passed on to The Eternals, but by some miraculous feat, he pulled through.” I bow my nog. “But not without leaving scars. Both inside and out. He’s not right. Angry. Afraid. Edgy. Molly was his cure.”
Her nog snaps up and her eyes lock with mine. “They used her blood or something?”
I give her a crooked smile. “Molly has a way about her. She radiates love and warmth and happiness like the rekking sun.” I hand her a helmet and mask. “For every shadow that lurked in Draven’s mind, Molly shone light. She healed the scars inside his mind by giving him her heart.”
Lyric’s eyes dart back and forth as though she’s peeling back layers to look inside me. I’d given her honesty with the truth-teller, but it’s like she needs to form her own opinions of me and my intentions. Br
eccan would call that using instinct over the obvious. Lyric is a good leader. I’ve trained enough under him to know one when I see one.
I help her put on her helmet and mask, making sure it’s safe and in working order. Once mine is on and we can hear each other’s breathing through the comms, I hand her a pack. It’s heavy and cumbersome, but she manages to put it on her back.
“You have a zonnoblaster for me?” I ask.
“Nice try,” she huffs, handing me a magknife. “Don’t make me regret this.”
I prefer the magknife over the zonnoblaster anyway. The zonnoblaster is Theron’s expertise.
“I won’t hurt you,” I tell her, my voice a raspy growl. “I promise.”
Rather than answering me, she starts for the decontamination bay, but I tug her away. “Not that one. It’s been compromised. We’ll use a different one.”
“But this one opens up, according to the maps, to an outside staircase leading down the side of the mountain,” she argues, her words crackling through the speaker in my helmet. It’s as though her husky words are inside my nog. I like them there. I like being connected to her through the comms.
I grip her wrist and guide her down a series of hallways. When she allowed us to roam, Theron and I made quick work of learning the area and finding information about the prison. We eventually come to a small decontamination bay like the one we have leading to The Tower back at the Facility.
“There’s nothing out there,” she says, pointing to the framed picture of what lies beyond the door. “We can’t get down from there.”
I tap my clawed fingertip to the very top, pointing at the antenna. “We’re not going down, female. We’re going up.”
7
Lyric
Going up.
Out of the prison.
