Dani debated whether to go to a nearby home that had a sign advertising berbel fruit pies for sale, a shop with handwoven rugs about a quarter mile down the smoothed dirt road, or returning to her clan and teling them that Pertak was in the area. The thought of Wynhod and Gelan pounding on the man who’d put Krijero through such hel had its appeal, but the sweet smel of baked berbel pie and the unlovely grumble of Dani’s stomach decided her against that option.
By the time she got her palm-sized pie from the emerald-furred Joshadan half her size (Dani stil hadn’t figured out how to tel the females from the males), she was more interested in continuing to shop than seeing justice meted out. Besides, her clanmates were cops and darn good ones at that. If they beat the hel out of Pertak, they’d also turn themselves in for discipline for doing so. It was better to keep her guys out of trouble, Dani decided.
Proud of herself for not letting impulse rule, a bad old habit of hers that had landed her in more trouble than she cared to think about, Dani started down the road towards the rug shop. She happily munching on the lighter-than-air crusted pie. The filing tasted like a blend of strawberries and kiwis to her, with a buttery undertone that kept it from being too tart. She swiped at the juices running down her chin and licked them off her fingers. Delicious.
Hmm. That rug with the green and gold design hanging in the window of the shop would be perfect for her sitting room at home. It was big too and would probably cost quite a bit. When Gelan had given her the code for the clan’s finance account to use for paying for her purchases, he’d done so with the sighed, “Leave us enough to eat on until our next paychecks, al right?” Sily Dramok. She wasn’t the one who lost control on their shopping trips. Not that that hadn’t always been the case. Once upon a time back on Earth, Dani had bought things without ever consulting the price tags. Her father had given her carte blanche when it came to spending money, probably to make up for the guilt of ignoring her otherwise.
With a clan of three men who truly loved her, material things had lost much of their appeal. Sure, she stil enjoyed pretty clothes and nice things, but when it came to spending money on Dani, Gelan and the other two had far less restraint than she.
“Big boneheads. Always saying how much they want to put aside money for retirement, then they buy me some sily bauble. Nice baubles and I’m not complaining. But the only reason I have so many nonessential dresses and jewelry and shoes is because they buy them.” Dani’s goodnatured grumbling was done under her breath, and she smiled as she made her complaint. They realy loved her, and every little gesture they made gave her a warm feeling inside. She’d have traded every chain of precious metal, every stitch of clothing just for the privilege of being their mate. She had everything she needed to make her happy.
Stil, that rug realy was perfect. She could always get a job to pay for the lovely things she preferred. Eventualy. The clan had tried to interest her in furthering her education, to find some career that would give her a sense of accomplishment. Dani was a bit ambivalent about such things right now though. She’d only lived on Kalquor a little over seven months. She wasn’t ready to rush into something that would end her happy settling-in period.
“Matara?”
Dani turned to find a scarred Kalquorian close behind her. She gasped.
He was muscled, as al the Kalquorians were, being pre-disposed geneticaly for the natural bodybuilder look. But there was something almost starved about him, his exposed arms somewhat wasted looking. His loose, sleeveless coverals hung on him, the tan-colored fabric stained and shredded at the cuffs. A belt held two long knives, sheathed in pouches that hung halfway down his thighs. His long black hair looked greasy and matted. The face, which might once have been handsome, was a patchwork of flesh that had at some point in his past been knifed apart and stitched back together.
The ferocity in his expression was al Nobek. His eyes darted around, taking in the landscape as if he was being hunted. Dani also looked around. There was no one else in sight.
Dani queled the abrupt rise in terror this man’s appearance had ignited. For heaven’s sake, it was broad daylight in the sleepy Joshadan vilage. The poor wretch no doubt needed help, not her running and screaming through the street like some pathetic damsel in distress.
“Goodness, you startled me,” she said, trying not to grimace at the Nobek’s hideous scars. “What’s wrong?”
“You clan Nobek Wynhod?” His growled words were uncertain, his mastery of her language obviously in doubt.
What is this, Old Home Week? Are all my mates’ past pals coming out of the woodwork?
“Yes, Wynhod is my Nobek. Do you know him?”
The vicious grin that ate up the Kalquorian’s face made Dani take another step back. She suddenly wanted her clan. Especialy when the Nobek spoke again.
“I know Wynhod. He make this.” The very frightening man slapped his own disfigured face. “Now I take Matara. Ruin Matara face, ruin Matara, ruin Wynhod through Matara.” Dani didn’t wait around to hear more. She spun around and ran, her mouth open to scream. She thought she saw a dark blur of movement down the street, like a Kalquorian running.
Kalquorians were fast as a rule, and the monster who threatened her was no exception. He grabbed Dani, pressing her flailing body to his, and covered her mouth with one sweaty palm. He ran, making their surroundings blur past as he bore her out of the vilage into the tal grass beyond that swalowed them up to their waists.
Dani fought him for al she was worth, but though her attacker might be weaker than the typical Kalquorian, he was stil too much for her. As he gained distance from the vilage and entered the purple and black-tree woods, he slung her hard over his shoulder. Her breath whooshed out in a painful grunt as her stomach tried to absorb the blow. She couldn’t scream for several seconds, and when she finaly did, the vilage was already lost from sight.
* * * *
Krijero shook his tousled hair out of his eyes as he contemplated two metal walhangings. They were out of place amongst the primitive hand tools that Wynhold loved to colect. Purely decorative with swirling curlicues and polished to a warm reddish-golden gleam, they served no practical purpose, not like the majority of things on display in this shop. Stil, he thought Dani might like them in her sitting room.
The trick was which one would she like most? Gelan would kil him if he bought both. They were to remain within budget this time.
The motion of someone rushing towards him took his attention away from the pretty decorations. Krijero turned to see who was coming at him so fast. The next instant Wynhod was between him and a man whose appearance made his throat close in shocked misery.
“Pertak!”
Wynhod’s growl filed the cluttered shop as an angry Gelan came to Krijero’s side. The Dramok’s fists clenched and his snarl joined his Nobek’s. The emerald-furred Joshadan metal smith ducked beneath a worktable, more interested in safety than watching the confrontation.
Pertak stopped short, holding out his hands in a surrender gesture. “Tel your Nobek to back down, Krijero. Your Matara has been kidnapped!” With a roar, Wynhod lunged at Pertak. The next instant Krijero’s taler clanmate held the other man aloft by his thick throat, as if Pertak didn’t outweigh him by at least fifty pounds. Wynhod’s handsome face was masked with bestial ferocity as he shook Krijero’s former companion hard.
The violent motion made the Nobek’s long mohawk strip of hair slither like a snake across his back. “What have you done to Dani?” he howled, his fangs fuly descended.
“Not me,” Pertak gasped. “I saw a scarred Nobek … Krijero, please!”
It was Gelan who stepped forward, putting a restraining hand on Wynhod’s shoulder. His long cornrowed braids whispered against the fabric of his sleeveless formsuit. “Put him down, my Nobek. We have to know if Dani’s in danger.”
With a snarl, Wynhod released Pertak, letting the man drop to the floor. Pertak staggered when he landed, almost faling over. Had Krijero not been galvanized with worry at
the report of Dani being abducted, he might have taken some pleasure in it.
Instead, he rushed forward to join his bigger clanmates. “What’s happened to Dani? Who was it that took her?” With Earther Mataras being kidnapped over the last few months, Krijero’s fear for his mate was enough to make his voice tremble. What most of Kalquor’s population didn’t know was that almost half a dozen of the women had been brutaly murdered. Krijero had his doubts the kilings were part of the main rebelion, but that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was something had happened to his Dani.
“I saw her walking down the street, heading in the opposite direction away from the pie maker’s. A thin man, a Nobek with a badly scarred face wearing a prison coveral, stopped her. They exchanged a few words, but I was too far away to hear what they said. Your Matara tried to get away from him, but the man grabbed her and ran into the woods on the north side of the vilage.”
“I wil track her scent,” Wynhod said and ran out the door, his sharply handsome predator’s face already intent on the hunt.
Gelan was right behind him, his usualy noble features almost as feral as his Nobek’s. Dani had once said the Dramok looked like a young Caesar.
It was funny what strange things flitted through one’s mind when in a panic, Krijero thought. Like how Dani thought Gelan looked like some long ago Earth king. He shook his head at himself as he folowed the two men as fast as he could, his clumsy gait slowing him down.
Wynhod halted almost a mile down the road, his nostrils flaring as he stared at the ground. A few of the rainbow-hued Joshadans were outside now, watching the goings on with polite curiosity. For once, none of the three Kalquorians paused to offer respectful bows to the indigenous residents. They were too focused on their missing Matara.
“He carried her,” Wynhod growled, staring at the single set of footprints that led away from the road. He began tracking, leaving the dirt street to jog between two residences towards the high grasses of the woods-pocked Joshadan plain. Gelan had his handheld out, simultaneously folowing the Nobek while muttering urgently to his portable computer.
“What is he doing with that handheld? Shouldn’t he concentrate on tracking?” a rumbling voice said in Krijero’s ear.
The Imdiko was so startled by Pertak’s voice that he stumbled and nearly fel. Pertak’s hand caught him by the arm, steadying him.
“Why are you folowing us?” Krijero snarled at him. He jerked away as if the Dramok’s touch might burn him.
“I thought I might be able to help.”
Gelan paused speaking into his handheld long enough to show Pertak his fangs. “We don’t need your help. Wynhod and I are expert trackers. Get the hel away from my Imdiko.” He turned away and resumed folowing the trail as if that settled it. Krijero hurried to catch up. Heavy footsteps behind him told him of Pertak’s determined pursuit.
After al these years, why had the man turned up now? And who had his sweet, beautiful Dani?
A loud curse from Gelan made his heart speed up. Then the Dramok halted and caled, “Wait, Wynhod. You need to see this.” Wynhod stopped and trotted back to his clan leader. Krijero joined them too. “What have you found?”
“Big trouble.” Gelan’s gaze looked behind Krijero, and he turned to see Pertak standing a few feet away. “Come here, Dramok, and tel me if this is the man who took Dani.” Pertak lumbered close, keeping an eye on Wynhod, who was growling low and continuously at him. Gelan pressed a button on his handheld, and a free-floating vid picture of a badly scarred and scowling Nobek floated in the air. Wynhod’s growl cut off, and Krijero was amazed to see his fierce clanmate’s face pale.
Pertak confirmed, “That’s him. That’s the man I saw grab your Matara.”
Wynhod roared, his usualy attractive features twisted with fury and fear. “He’s supposed to be serving a life sentence!” Gelan’s hand shook only minutely, but enough to make Krijero’s anxiety edge towards panic. “He was. He escaped the Uswat Internment Camp six months ago.”
“And no one warned me?” Wynhod had gone from pale to purple in his rage.
“I guess not.” As hot with anger as the Nobek’s voice was, Gelan’s was brittle with ice.
Krijero wrung his hands with mounting concern. “Wil someone tel me what we’re dealing with here?”
“Wynhod’s encounter with this monster happened before we clanned. Before we even met, in fact.” Gelan put his handheld back in its pouch on his belt. Wynhod was already tracking Dani’s kidnapper’s trail again. “Nobek Hetra had always been an outsider, unable to function wel with others. He’d failed at one career after another.”
“That happens with far too many Nobeks,” Krijero muttered. A ful eighty-five percent of Kalquorian violent felons were Nobeks, most of which were the loner variety. Being a criminal psychologist, he was familiar with the issue.
“He kept getting into trouble. Assaults, battery, that kind of thing. His parents, one of whom was an area governor, staged an intervention. He kiled them al in a rage.” Krijero’s stomach turned over. Dani was in the hands of a madman.
Wynhod took up the tale. “I was in my first year as an enforcer. We cornered him in a business complex. He had hostages. We stormed the place and brought him down.”
“You brought him down,” Gelan corrected. “I saw the report when I researched you as my potential Nobek.” To Krijero he said, “Wynhod received a commendation. He managed to sneak up on Hetra.
The fight was brutal, and the scars you see on the bastard’s face are a result of that fight.”
“He deserved every last one of them,” Wynhod snarled. “The way he slaughtered his family … including his mother … it sickened me. He swore to get revenge.” Krijero nearly choked on his horror. “Why wasn’t this beast executed?”
“He was judged too intelectualy incompetent to fuly grasp the consequences of his actions, so they gave him the minimum sentence. Hetra thinks kiling is justified if he’s slighted. He has no conscience whatsoever.” Wynhod fairly howled at them. “He has my Matara!”
“Get back to tracking. I’l help.” As Wynhod set off again, Gelan gave his handheld to Krijero. “Folow as fast as you can, but familiarize yourself with this gurluck. I want to know how to negotiate for Dani’s safe release.”
They took off running, Gelan catching up to their Nobek as Krijero stumbled in their wake, clumsily trying to keep up while reading at the same time.
He was so intent on figuring out the mind of Dani’s kidnapper that it was several minutes before he realized Pertak was stil folowing them, and only then because Krijero stumbled and his former companion steadied him with a quick grab.
“What are you doing?” Krijero hissed at the Dramok. He kept his voice low because he didn’t know how close they were to finding the escaped convict.
“I told you, I want to help.” The dogged expression was the same Krijero remembered so wel, the stubborn set of Pertak’s jaw teling him he’d not be able to talk him out of it.
“What the hel do you care?” Krijero jerked away and kept going. Wynhod and Gelan were puling ahead, and he put on a burst of speed.
“I care. I owe you for what I put you through.”
The Imdiko didn’t know whether to laugh or punch the fool. Of al times to try to make amends, Pertak had chosen the worst. “Go away, you idiot. We’re tracking a dangerous man, and my Dramok and Nobek are more than capable of recovering our Matara.”
There was no answer, but Krijero could hear the soft thuds of Pertak’s running feet continuing to folow.
Fine. Let him chase after them and possibly get himself kiled. Krijero had to concentrate on finding and saving Dani.
* * * *
Dani’s heavy lids fluttered open, and the world around her came slowly into focus though it insisted on performing funhouse tilts. She was lying on the ground among a stand of lavender-barked trees. The bare-earth soil that supported her smeled strangely like baby powder.
She blinked, trying to get her muddled mind to w
ork. Where was she? That something bad had happened, she had no doubt. Her head pounded with agony, and the wooded area around her rocked, as if she’d gotten drunk.
The immediate area was silent, as if the very trees were holding their colective breath. Gelan loved to hunt, and Dani knew from accompanying her clan on such jaunts that when nature went quiet, danger lurked. Of course, she was used to being a part of that danger. But she’d apparently been unconscious and stil, no threat to the local fauna. Something else was nearby, something that might be something for her to fear. She remained motionless, her ears and eyes searching for whatever predator might be on the prowl.
The wisps and eddies of mind fog were at last beginning to thin. Dani had been shopping on Joshada. The gray-purple tree trunks and red leaves of the underbrush were evidence she was stil on the peaceable planet. She’d been in the woodworker’s shop, and Krijero’s former companion had spoken to her. She’d sent him packing. She’d left the shop, gone into the street …
Everything came back in a rush. Fruit pie, the rug, the scarred Nobek grabbing her, running with her. How she’d fought him tooth and nail, clawing and kicking and biting and pounding with a flurry of fists until he’d thrown her on the ground and swung a fist to clout her on the side of the head. Then darkness.
Dani didn’t have to look around to know her attacker was right there with her. The silence of the woods around her told her that.
Animal instinct took over, and Dani jumped to her feet, preparing to run like hel. Unfortunately, al was not right with her head. The motion turned the pounding agony in her skul to a blinding scream, and her funhouse view swirled the trees around her. Her long legs tangled together, tossing her back onto the blessedly soft ground.
Alien Interludes Page 25
