by Amanda Milo
“Rotk Kotok Zadeon? Can you punch this for me?”
I don’t smile at the hob; I don’t have to. My reputation is the better for appearing unpleasant.
I take a moment to slam the card slab down on the tip of my horn - then I hand it back to him.
There seems to be more and more hobs walking the commons every day. Freshly graduated and full of hope to find a Gryfala. Barring that, they’d love nothing more than to be included in the Human Project. Most of them are respectful. And eager. To do anything.
Dohrein has had to reduce Gracie’s access to them.
I understand that she enjoys assigning them arduous tasks when they attempt to flock to her.
They do not flock my Callie.
They do ask for card punches though.
“Goodbye,” I say in response to his enthusiastic thanks.
He looks even more excited at the curt hint. “I noticed it’s been two days since you’ve held a training session but I was wondering if-”
“Yes. I’ll be happy to hurt you the next time.”
I shut the door very politely in his face. Callie just shakes her head. Not at me - at him.
I saunter to her. “We are alone.”
Her cheeks go pink at the same time her face screws up in confusion. “So?”
“You can show me how to dance.”
Her eyes go wide for a fraction of a click before she narrows them and spins around. “Can’t.”
She doesn’t even spare a look back at me. And I know she is avoiding me when she goes to the wall and plucks up boxing gloves of her own volition.
She’s avoiding the subject.
“Why not?”
“What was that hob talking about? And are we going to box today?”
I struggle not to smile. “We’re going to dance today.”
“I want to box.”
“You lie. You want to dance.”
She is not amused.
“Shut up! Shut up about the dancing or I’ll-”
She still asks me before she bites me, and in this way gives me warning that a bite is imminent.
But not this time. This time, she gives it in punishment.
I find my reaction is split; I don’t like that she is doing this because I drove her into anger.
But I do so love the result.
Still. I don't like this feeling-
She pets my suit-clad arm. Then she gives it a gentle squeeze before clamping her teeth harder - something she knows I nearly lose my mind over. Ahhh! Instantly I feel relief. This is not punishment; she is trying to distract me and it almost worked.
As she worries my shirt with her teeth, the skin under it receiving a delicious pinch, I recall the words she danced to the most.
The one she danced to with the most passion.
When I start to croon; I capture her whole attention.
She spits my shirt out of her mouth as I generate a low bass thrum in my snout to accompany my words.
But I stop immediately when I see her eyes.
They’re wet.
“Callie?”
“That’s my song,” her voice breaks. “I never did find anything that made the music. It’s you.”
I try not to feel self conscious, but I believe my horns are flushing. “I am… trying to say the words that made you dance. I can’t hear all the notes I make, but I remember them enough, I think.”
Her face no longer shows any sign of pique.
“And,” I continue, watching her expressions closely, “I hope it is a passable enough effort that we can dance to it. Together. I would need you to teach me.”
For a click I think she will reject me. But her gaze flicks first to one of my ears, then the other before she gives me a teary smile. “It’s very difficult for a hearing impaired person to sing, let alone dance, because they can’t hear to follow the beat.”
“It’s a good thing I excel at tackling difficult things.”
Her smile widens, and more tears fall. “Yeah. I think you do.”
I don’t know why this has changed her mind, I am only happy for it.
She nods to herself more than me. “Okay. You’re getting your wish. Let’s do this.”
Seeing her move in person… it is even more alluring than in my dreams.
I can’t look away.
I am intensely relieved that I am the only one here to see.
Although there is no doubt in my mind that the monitoring teams are recording her every move. I could only ever get them to agree to our den being free of their prying.
And while that fact doesn’t leave me thrilled, I also believe this should be captured.
She’s incredible.
She stops. “Am I doing this by myself or are you going to keep singing?”
Oh, right! “Sorry, I got distracted by…”
She is teasing me.
I find myself smiling back. “Show me how to move with you?”
Biting her lip, she looks away, closing her eyes.
When she meets my gaze again, she nods.
CHAPTER 25
CALLIE
At first, I imagined that it would feel like my chest was splitting in two if I ever danced with another partner.
I’m somewhat sad, and very relieved that… I’m okay. I’ll always remember.
But the pain isn’t crippling anymore.
And this?
This isn’t just any partner I’m dancing with.
Some new, nameless, faceless replacement.
This is Zadeon.
My lifelong inspiration.
He told me he’d never danced. I imagined that for the first lessons, I’d be doing the leading, and beating in the repetition until we breathed the moves.
But this is Zadeon.
He is a male that has used his body as a weapon; it is well honed, ridiculously well trained to both study and react to another’s moves - and he has apparently seen this dance performed almost as many times as I’ve actually done it.
He is my perfect partner.
That thought strikes a little nail into my chest. It feels disloyal. But it’s not, is it? Here, this alien has dreamed about me - dreamed about me! His whole life! If that isn’t a sign…
I stop myself from going any further with that thought.
Zadeon works me until I am everything exhausted - even mentally. He pushes until I don’t have two thoughts to rub together. I’m utterly depleted. I bit him a few hours before I reached that point, hoping to distract him.
Then I was too tired to even try to sidetrack him with that.
“Z?”
“Yes, my little tarantula?”
There are times when someone says something so alien to you, that you just have to stop, and go…
...what???
Of course, since my legs are simultaneously inflamed and stiff with the stability of jello - I just about plant my face in tile. “Did you just call me a spider?”
He looks unsure. “I was told they are very fierce where you are from.”
I sigh tiredly. “Was it Angie?”
“How did you know?”
That woman is scared of everything. Reportedly, when her turn came up for the innoculations they developed for us, she violently threw up - before they could even give her the shot. Her behavior, and reactions, and her interesting view of earth life tends to color the impressions of the aliens she comes into contact with. “Lucky guess.”
“She also said a creature called a porcupine can be very dangerous. And prang mantis are ‘freaky’.”
“Praying mantis, and that’s true but… I don’t think she understood that you were searching for endearments. Although the porcupine might work for Gracie.”
“They are bad?”
I open my mouth to confirm Gracie can be as-prickly-as, and that these are all terrible as far as endearments go, but he looks so… he is trying so hard. “It’s - you know what? It’s fine.”
He smiles.
And… I find myself smili
ng back.
Then I grimace. Ugh. The muscles in my legs are starting to spasm.
Instantly, he’s at my side. “What is the matter?”
I look at him so fondly it seems to stun him. “You know how you like to carry me?”
His eyes go soft for me. “There isn’t much I enjoy more.”
I gratefully lift my arms out a little, waiting for the obligatory flip of my stomach as I’m scooped into the air.
But it doesn’t happen.
There’s no flip.
Zadeon starts walking.
As I stand there, fit to catch flies, he spins but keeps moving, walking backward. “Keep up.”
...What? “What?”
“My instinct tells me I should coddle you. I want to. But I don’t think it is the best thing for you, and ultimately, my instinct wants the best for you.”
I can only sputter. “What do you mean it’s not the best for me? This isn’t like after you chased me. My legs hurt,” I can’t help but whine.
I can’t believe that undignified sound just came out of my mouth.
Zadeon hesitates - to speak, or to stop himself from giving in to his urge to carry me, I’m not sure.
“When I have doted on you, you seem to wilt under my care. With some adversity however, you have… made an incredible comeback. Some fighters are like this. Stack the odds too hard, and they can’t succeed. Stack them too easy, and get the same result. But if you stay at their side and nudge them when they need it…” His eyes search mine. “You’re finding your feet again and are going to be stronger than ever.”
My sigh is so put-upon that Zadeon laughs. I really like the sound. We don’t speak to each other the rest of the way back to our room.
I’m well aware it’s good to stretch out my muscles, blah, blah.
Somehow, I make it just fine on my own power.
Guess I just needed a little encouragement.
◆◆◆
The following days are more of the same.
At least at first.
Today, I decide I want to join the others in the commons to eat.
Zadeon is fine with that; he’s happy with anything that makes me happy.
Which is why he snarls “Be gone,” when we enter to find some of the Mean Girls already starting to heckle us from the safety of their table.
'Safety' because I think they think they'll be able to make it out the door before Zadeon could catch them.
I've seen him move.
They're wrong.
Even though they scurry out fast, he doesn’t stop glaring in their direction.
Which reminds me. “Hey. You didn’t tell Gracie that you would actually... consume parts of Mandi, did you?”
His eyes light up. “No. You want me to?”
That is so horrifyingly disturbing. “NO! Just… checking, I guess. Forget I said anything.”
His mouth is open like he’s about to speak but at my words his chest deflates and he looks disappointed. “Fine.”
Despite myself. I laugh.
Slowly, a smile spreads across Z’s face in reaction as he continues to stare down at me.
I feel my breath hitch.
“NO MORE FIRE!” is shouted so forcefully that I bang into Zadeon. He steadies me with careful hands - and sends Dohrein a look that could buckle asphalt.
I hope he never glares at me like that.
Dohrein though, seems immune.
I used to think he was so smart…
“I am serious. The burn bay is full! No more.”
“Noted,” Zadeon drawls slowly enough to telegraph all the fantasies he has of smashing Dohrein into little sparkly pieces right now.
Dohrein follows us to a table where Angie, Arokh, and Gracie are already seated. “Did you know,” Gracie begins; beaming proudly. I think to break up the tension even though normally she likes to stir things up. She must want to keep Dohrein intact. “That hobs have flame retardant wings?”
“Yes,” Dohrein adds dryly. “It's only the rest of us we have to worry about crisping.”
“Mmm, can’t have that,” she purrs.
Ugh.
All this talk of flames and crisping makes me interrupt the two lovebirds. “You smell like Z,” I say to Dohrein.
He gives me a glare, which I think is his form of a quizzical look.
“Zadeon smells like burnt chocolate and marshmallows,” I share. “It makes me think of s’mores.”
Gracie uses one of Zadeon’s much sought-after punch cards to scratch a spot on her arm. “How the fuck were you making s'mores that you burned your chocolate?”
Angie nods solemnly. “Pretty sure you did it wrong.”
I sigh. “Shut up.”
“No really,” Gracie looks puzzled. “Why? How?”
“I liked my chocolate to melt onto my marshmallow, so I’d heat it up.”
“Your marshmallow is supposed to be heated up so that it melts your chocolate. You did do it wrong.”
“No! It was always too cold!”
Gracie’s face scrunches. “Are you from Alaska? Did you pull your chocolate from the tundra icebox beforehand? Inquiring minds must know now.”
I sniff. “I’m from Michigan.”
There’s that s’more smell again. It’s really strong-
“Ohhh, that explains the accent.” Angie says thoughtfully. Arokh adjusts her on his lap.
“Whaaat? I don’t have an accent.”
“Whot! I dohhhn’t have an accent,” she mocks good naturedly, and snickers.
I glower. I try for Zadeon-Level Glower. “Zadeon? Attack!”
Gracie bursts out laughing. “Awesome!”
Angie’s wearing a slightly more sober, and heavily chiding look though. “You really, really can’t tell him that. Bad idea. So bad.”
Arokh’s arms tighten on Angie and he’s giving me a narrowed eyed stare. “Never. Again.”
I hold up my hands. “Sorry. Just joking.” I turn to face Zadeon. “Only joking, okay? No harming of the ladies, got it?”
"Except for Mandi?”
Despite myself - I laugh.
Feeling a little contrite, I clap a hand over my mouth.
Zadeon gently pries it off. “I grasp the concept of humor. Unlike some of us,” he says, his lips curving a little ...evilly... as he moves his gaze to Dohrein.
Dohrein adjusts his wings - agitatedly, unconsciously, or in warning, I’m not sure.
Gracie gasps. “What happened!”
I’m ashamed that I’m so shocked that she’s genuinely worried for Dohrein. Of course Gracie cares about him.
It’s clear that she cares a lot.
I take a deep breath. Then I inhale hard. “There it is again. Weird, because you don’t smell like Z all the time, but you really, really smell like him now-”
Dohrein slams his hydration packet down. “That would be because this smorrre smell you recognize is actually burned hob. And it’s not every day he gets to burn me.”
“S’mores!” Angie snaps her fingers. “Ahhh, that’s what burnt hob reminds me of, thanks.”
I look at Zadeon in horror. He seems unrepentant.
“Why did you burn him?” I’m really upset. Why is everyone acting like this is only sort of a big deal?
Dohrein answers before Zadeon even opens his mouth. “Did I upset you when I asked about your facial scars?”
I rear back.
I don’t even like to think of my scars. He kind of - okay, he totally surprised me with the question earlier and he had no way of knowing, but I went and laid down for a ‘nap’ afterward - where I wallowed in bad memories and told myself this was the last time I was having a pity party.
Then I fell asleep.
I thought Zadeon stayed beside me the whole time.
Apparently, he went off to do a little thing human men love to do: grill.
Dohrein nods. “I thought so. I believe that is why I earned this,” and he brings his wing up from where Gracie was examining it to show me the
huge blackened area.
It looks like burnt chicken. Like when you slather a huge breast piece in barbeque sauce and lay it - no tinfoil - on the grill. Charred crisp on the outside, yet taken off the fire while it’s still tender and delicious on the inside...
But… it smells like… s’mores.
“Grosss…” I whimper, thinking it’s probably for the best that I’ll never get s’mores again. Or chicken. My stomach heaves.
“Callie?” Zadeon asks and now he’s worried. He burned our friend and didn’t blink but-
“I thought you said their wings didn’t burn!” I manage before another dry heave.
“I said flame retardant, not flameproof, Einstein.” She strokes a hand down Dohrein’s shoulder. “Awww,” she says, the powder side of his wing safely on her fabric-clad lap - safely, because it’s not in contact with her skin. If it was, this visit would turn very awkward, very fast. “Awww,” she says again, voice genuine and shockingly softer than I’ve ever heard as she pets the back of it. “Want me to kiss it and make it better?”
Dohrein’s eyes go hot. “I want you to kiss something.”
Her voice is playful. “Yeah?”
He lifts his wing enough to use the claw part of it to wrap around her hand. He tugs. “I need to show you. In our castle.”
Initially, they had a disagreement about what they’d call their retreat.
Rakhii are ground dwellers who live in dens.
Hobs fly and are housed in rookeries.
Humans are ground dwelling but because we traditionally have neither nest nor den and Gracie wanted a label cooler than ‘bedroom’ - she insisted they refer to theirs as a castle.
I wish I didn’t know, but she was all too proud to recount how she got him to agree to call it whatever she wanted.
Now he wraps her in his wings - powder side touching her, and Arokh and Zadeon tug Angie and I away from the dust that escapes their clasp.
They leave quickly.
Before things can get too off track, I tackle the question that kind of got ignored. “Z?”
He’s already watching me. He smiles when I notice that fact - and blush. Dropping my gaze to the protein brick he pushed into my hands earlier, I ask, “Why did you burn him? Was it… was it really because of what he asked me?”
When he doesn’t answer, I bring my eyes - and my mouth, which had dropped when my chin touched my neck - back up. Idiot. I start to ask my question again but either he heard me fine without reading my lips or he knows what I want to ask because he addresses the right question. “I did inflict punishment on him for upsetting you.”
