Cael

by Annabelle Rex

  She twisted the wires together and the van rumbled into life. She wrapped the electrical tape round the exposed wires, then tossed the tools into the passenger footwell.

  “Are you getting in or what?” she said to the Prince, who was staring at her like she’d grown a second head.

  That was better. He was easier to deal with when he wasn’t looking at her like she was a dessert someone had just served him.

  Cael hesitated for the barest moment, then went to the passenger side. Asha brushed away the broken glass from his seat, then took off the gloves and pulled out her phone, dialling Marta.

  “You steal cars?” Cael asked, as he pulled the passenger door shut and strapped himself in.

  “Actually, I fix them,” Asha said. “It just means I know how to steal them if I need to.”

  She put her finger to her lips as her phone stopped ringing, Marta’s groggy voice coming through.

  “What happened to the ‘no phone calls before lunchtime’ rule?” she said.

  “Marta, I’m near Picadilly, I need a route out of the city.”

  “And what, Picadilly Circus isn’t good enough?”

  Asha resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Marta was great, but only at ‘civilised’ times. Which to Marta was between two in the afternoon and about four in the morning.

  “Turn on the news.”

  Marta grunted, but Asha could hear the whirr of her computers firing up.

  “Holy shit,” Marta said a few moments later, the sleepiness gone from her voice. “This is why I never leave the house. Okay, where are you exactly?”

  “I don’t know,” Asha said. “Some side alley somewhere off Picadilly. I’ve stolen a van, road directions please.”

  “Right,” Marta said, unfazed by this declaration. “I’ve got your GPS. Where am I directing you to? Nell’s? Mal’s?”

  Asha thought about it for a second. “No, direct me to yours.”

  “Okay, start driving. Take a right at the end of the road.”

  Asha jammed her phone into the cradle next to the steering wheel, setting it on to speaker.

  “Fuck me,” Marta said, her voice tinny through the phone speaker, “it’s chaos out there. The whole city is grinding to a halt. What are you doing on Picadilly anyway? Figure you’d keep Crastor’s money and go shopping?”

  “Long story,” Asha said, glaring at Cael in case he had any mind to talk. “I’ll explain when I get there.”

  “Okay. Take the next left.”

  Marta lead them on a circuitous route, avoiding the most congested parts of the city, all the rioting and demonstration hot spots. Once, Asha had to execute a speedy turn in the road after driving down a side street blocked by looters, wheel spinning away from them as they ran towards the van, bats raised. But that was the closest shave, and after twenty minutes they were moving at a pace, away from the thick of it.

  “Your satnav has your back from here,” Marta said. “I’m going to get dressed. See you in twenty.”

  “Thanks, Marta.” Asha jabbed at her phone, hanging up the call, then switching over to the satnav function. “Marta will be able to get in contact with your team,” she said to the Prince, glancing sideways at him. To his credit, he looked calm. Concerned, but calm.

  “Tarkken, my head of security has a police liaison, Superintendent Katherine Jackson,” he said. “We can call her.”

  “Unless you’ve got her mobile number, I don’t think we’re going to get through,” Asha said, switching from the satnav app to dial 999. Her phone rang for a moment, then an automated message clicked in. Something about experiencing a high volume of calls. Asha hit the red button to end the call.

  “But you think this Marta will be able to get through?” Cael said, a note of scepticism in his voice.

  Asha sighed, then pulled the van over. When she’d parked it safely, albeit completely illegally, she turned in her seat to face him.

  “I know we only just met five minutes ago and you’ve got no reason to trust me,” she said, “but I’m trying to help you, okay? Because whatever else is going on today, those people marching were clearly gunning for you and your friends. I don’t need to know anything about you to know you don’t deserve to be caught by bigots like that.”

  He met her gaze, those luminous blue eyes looking at her in a way that made Asha feel like he could see beneath her skin, straight into the secret heart of her. It made heat crawl up her neck, her breath going shallow. Just adrenaline. Just the shock of the situation. She took another calming breath.

  “If you want to get out here and fend for yourself, that’s fine. But trust me, Marta will figure some way of getting in contact with that Superintendent. It will probably be about as legal as stealing this van, but I figure this is a ‘needs must’ sort of situation.”

  Silence hung between them for one long moment. Then the Prince nodded.

  “I trust you,” he said.

  “Because you’ve realised I’m right or because you’ve got no other choice?”

  “Because you’re my Match.”

  His expression didn’t waver, his eyes holding hers. Asha’s heart beat faster, her blood drumming in her ears.

  “Okay,” she said after a moment. Because what else could she say?

  Chapter 8

  ASHA’S PHONE DIRECTED THEM TO ANOTHER alley somewhere in the city. Cael had never paid much attention to the geography of London, or anywhere on Earth for that matter, trusting his drivers to take him where he needed to go. He didn’t have any idea where they were now, but looking around, the streets were quiet, the detritus of abandoned street parties blowing down the road in the gentle wind.

  People here had clearly retreated into their houses, keeping away from the trouble that had swept through the centre of the city.

  Asha got out of the van, heading for a flight of stairs that went down to a door dropped beneath the level of the street. It looked more like an industrial entrance than the door to a house - large, metal and with an intercom on the wall to the side of it. Asha pressed the button, then waited. A buzzing noise sounded, followed by the clunk of metal moving. Asha reached for the handle, but paused.

  “Let’s just get something straight,” she said, grey eyes steely as she looked at him. “I don’t know what game you lot are playing with the Match test, but it’s clearly bullshit.”

  Cael blinked, taken aback by her sudden aggression as much as her assertion.

  “Maybe your research team saw my picture and thought I’d look pretty on your arm. Whatever. You have probably already realised they’ve made a huge error.”

  He tried to summon the words to protest, but she cut him off with a glare.

  “My patience has been worn about this thin, today,” she said, pressing her thumb and forefinger close. “That is not your fault, and I’d rather not take it out on you, as I’m sure you’re not a bad person. But I’d appreciate it if we could cut the crap and stop pretending like this is going to happen.” She gestured between the two of them. “I’m going to help you, you don’t have to act like we’re destined to be to keep me on side.”

  She went to open the door, but snapped back to him.

  “And let me do the talking, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said.

  “Good,” she said, her tone sharp enough to cut.

  She held the door open for him. Cael felt bruised and battered - physically and emotionally - as he stepped past her. She didn’t trust the test. Of course she didn’t trust the test, no Humans trusted the test. So why had she taken it? And didn’t she feel the way he did? Was her head not spinning just for being near him? Did she not ache with a need to hold, to be held? The uncertainty hurt a lot more than the truth that she didn’t trust the test. Why she’d taken it didn’t matter to Cael, only that she had, that they’d found each other. But Asha was making it sound like she didn’t want to be found.

  The room beyond the door was just a small entrance hallway, dingy and barely big enough for the two of them. Cael�
�s pulse jumped as Asha brushed past him, heading for a second, more normal sized door. She pushed it open into a large, open plan space. A kitchenette stood to one side, a small dining table with three mismatching chairs in the middle of it. The bulk of the living space was taken up by a bedroom area, the bed rumpled and unmade, the wardrobe doors open, clothes hung over the top of them, or scattered about the floor.

  There were two further doorways, and a figure emerged from behind one of them. She wore an oversized jumper over leggings, bare feet padding across the floor. She was similar in height and frame to Asha, but looked bigger, purely for the mass of long curly hair atop her head, which she ruffled as she approached, yawning. Her blue eyes, bleary with sleepiness, came in to sharp focus as they landed on Asha.

  “What the hell are you wearing?” she said.

  “Really?” Asha said. “That’s what you most want to know right now?”

  “I have many questions. Like ‘what is this long story you have to tell me about being at Picadilly?’ and ‘who is this stranger you’ve brought to my house?’” She gestured in Cael’s direction without looking to him. “But yeah, what’s with the outfit?”

  Her voice sounded a little different in person, but this was unmistakably Marta.

  Asha looked down at the uniform, her hands smoothing over the crisp lines of the jacket. “I kind of like it. It’s some American Motor Corp uniform. For the street party celebrations.”

  “Huh,” Marta said, still staring at Asha like this might make sense in a moment. “I suppose it’s an appropriate choice of costume. Didn’t know you were going.”

  “I was supposed to be meeting Nell and Mikey.”

  “And what got in the way first? The riots or Mr Strong but Silent Type over here?”

  Cael nearly laughed. He’d never been accused of being the silent type before.

  Marta shot Cael a grin, then turned back to Asha. “Very cute, by the way.”

  “Don’t start,” Asha said. “And Crastor. Crastor got in the way first.”

  Marta’s expression darkened. “What’s Crastor got to do with any of this?”

  She shot another glance in Cael’s direction, her eyes narrowed, her previous friendliness gone. Asha noticed and shook her head.

  “Can we sit down a minute?” Asha said. “I should explain - to both of you.”

  They sat at the dining table, Marta taking the solo chair, leaving Cael and Asha to sit next to each other opposite her. Marta’s eyes darted back and forth between them, clearly trying to work out what was going on. Cael thought he could see notes of worry in her expression - concern for Asha. Marta wasn’t some casual acquaintance, good in a crisis. She was a close friend, someone who cared about Asha deeply.

  “You know how you are my best friend,” Asha said, confirming his suspicions.

  “Yes?” Marta said, wariness in her tone.

  “I need you to shut up and listen to me. No interruptions, okay?”

  “Right. Shutting up and listening. Go.”

  Asha took a deep breath. “Crastor forced me to take the Match test.”

  “What?” Marta said, tone loud, angry. Then she slammed her hands over her mouth. “Sorry,” she said, voice muffled by the sleeves of her jumper. “Shutting up.”

  Asha almost smiled, the slight curl of her lips making Cael’s heart beat a little faster.

  Stars above, she was beautiful.

  And ferocious. He would have been lying if he’d said that didn’t excite him a little. His sister’s words came back to him, drifting through his mind, almost taunting.

  Be careful what you wish for, baby brother.

  Asha explained in quick, economical terms - mostly looking at Marta - everything that had happened to her that morning. Cael listened as she talked about this Crastor, who she owed a lot of money, and how he’d decided the way for her to pay off her debt was to sign up to the Match program and steal a translator for him. A lot of feelings went through Cael’s body - too many to distinguish and respond to. He put them aside, drawing on the court training he’d undergone as a child, where he’d learned to respond as a royal, not a person, removing emotion from the equation.

  “He wanted you to steal from us?” he said.

  Marta’s startled look in his direction reminded him that Asha’s friend didn’t have a translator. Cael switched his off, and gave her an apologetic look.

  “Sorry, I do speak English,” he said.

  “Yes, he wanted me to steal from you,” Asha said. “I tried to refuse, but he threatened my sister.”

  “Nell?” Cael said, the various names she’d mentioned starting to slot into place.

  “Yes, Nell. He gave me forty-eight hours to get him something before he drags her into it.”

  Cael’s first thought was that he could organise for Nell to be protected, bring her up to the Station if necessary. But that depended on him being able to contact Tarkken, on the various bodyguards and security teams being able to get across the city to wherever Nell lived. Even if Marta could get in contact with Tarkken’s police liaison, he didn’t think any of the security team would be leaving the safety of wherever they’d holed up. It wouldn’t be fair of him to ask them to.

  “Do you think the riots will have stopped in forty-eight hours?” he asked.

  “God only knows,” Asha said, her head dropping in to her hands. “But that doesn’t matter.”

  “It doesn’t?” Marta said, arching an eyebrow.

  Asha turned to her. “One, Crastor can’t reasonably expect me to achieve anything while all this is going on. Two, I can get to Nell, riots or no riots, before the forty-eight hours are up and leave. We can move up north somewhere. Nell will be pissed, but she’ll get over it.”

  “And you really think they aren’t going to come looking for you?”

  “I don’t think Crastor cares that much about what I owe him,” Asha said.

  “I wasn’t talking about Crastor,” Marta said, shooting a pointed look in Cael’s direction.

  Asha’s hand went to the spot on her forearm where her Identity Chip had been implanted. Cael knew she was wondering if it could be used to track her. It couldn’t - Intergalactic Community privacy laws stated that tracking individuals without good cause was a breach of their right to a private life - but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t look for her if she decided to run.

  Asha looked in his direction, grey eyes narrowed, as if she could sense what he was thinking and didn’t like it. “You don’t seriously think I’m a good choice? A van thief in debt to criminals?”

  “I thought you fixed cars?” he said, giving her a small smile.

  “Exactly,” Asha said, like he’d just proved her point. “I’m a car mechanic. Not exactly the right sort of girl for you.”

  Marta frowned. “Is this you being iceberg-y again, or do we not like this guy?”

  Asha scowled and Marta held up her hands.

  “Hey, you didn’t just abandon him in the park. I thought maybe that meant you liked him.”

  “Jesus, Marta, I’m not a monster. Those guys with the crowbars - they were looking to batter someone. Of course I didn’t just abandon a potential target in the park.”

  “You’re right, I’m sorry. That would have been a terrible thing to do. It’s early, plus you’ve given me a hell of a lot to digest here, I’m not quite thinking straight.”

  She closed her eyes, pressing her hands to her lips in thought. If Asha had made such a gesture, Cael knew his focus would have been entirely on her lips. When Marta did it, he felt nothing. She was a beauty in her own right, striking pale skin, wide blue eyes, and that dramatic mass of curly brown hair. But she paled in comparison to Asha, and Cael knew instinctively that every woman he ever met always would.

  “Does it work?” Marta said, snapping out of her reverie abruptly, leaning forwards and talking to Asha like he wasn’t there. “The Match test, does it work? The advertising says you fall madly in lust straight away.”

  “No, it doesn’t
work!” Asha said, but the way a hint of blush crept up her neck gave Cael some cause to hope.

  “Really?” Marta said, sounding unconvinced. “Some guys on the forum had a look at the formulas. They said it was pretty compelling.”

  “Marta!”

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I just… you know I’m here for you, whatever, right?”

  “I know?” Asha said.

  “So if you did want to shack up with an alien beau…”

  With a sigh, Asha reached across and snatched the hat from Cael’s head.

  “Marta,” she said. “Meet His Royal Highness, Prince Cael.”

  “Oh,” Marta said, her eyes going round with surprise.

  After Asha finished explaining the plan to get in touch with Tarkken through Superintendent Jackson, Marta lead them through into one of the other rooms. Inside, several monitors were mounted on the wall, the whir of computers echoing all around them. A large desk took up one entire side of the room, a large, stylish desk chair tucked against it. On the desk, days of discarded coffee mugs were scattered next to a grey striped cat that had curled up around itself, burring contentedly. It raised its head for a moment to look at them, before deciding they were beneath its notice.

  One of the monitors above the desk was streaming a news website, while others showed various maps of the city, the problem areas flagged in red. Cael scanned across the maps, horrified by the spread of the violence.

  “I know I’ve got it here somewhere,” Marta said, digging round in a cupboard.

  Asha stood a little away from both of them, her arms wrapped around herself. There wasn’t much space in the room, filled to the ceiling with computer hardware as it was, and it seemed to Cael she’d put herself as far away from him as she could possibly get. Her eyes were glued to the maps.

  “Where does Nell live?” he asked.

  She glanced at him, the monitors reflecting in her eyes so they flashed as they moved. Then, she unfolded herself and stepped forwards, raising a finger to the map.

  “Here,” she said, not quite touching the screen. “We’re here.”