Inferno

by Nancey Cummings

  “That was long ago. We are no longer enemies.”

  Mishal grumbled an agreement. They might no longer be enemies, but his fear of the Ghians would be hard to overcome.

  “What is it?” Amber called from the safety of the river bank.

  Scavengers had already been at the body. A cursory examination indicated that the body was male, had a fractured leg, and his skull suffered trauma. He most likely hit his head on the rocks in the river. The cold kept the body from smelling too foul, but the stink of death and decay was unmistakable. “Human,” Pel said.

  “That poor man,” Amber said.

  “We can’t just leave him like that,” Kira said.

  “Are you sure this is a human?” Mishal asked. What was left of the body was barely identifiable. It could be valo or human.

  “That’s a prisoner uniform,” Amber said. “We’re sure.”

  “Did you know him?” Mishal asked, suddenly needing to know if this male had been significant to Amber. She shook her head and denied any relationship, despite the water in her eyes. He didn’t know much about humans, but he knew that watering eyes was a sign of emotional sadness. “Why are you upset? This male was nothing to you,” he demanded.

  “Because he was still a person, and this looks like a horrible way to die,” Amber snapped.

  Mishal nodded, understanding growing. If he encountered the body of another valo, he would try to honor them rather than leave them to the elements. He was about to explain himself, but Pel spoke over him, “How do humans honor their dead?”

  “We bury them,” Amber said.

  “In the ground? How will their spirit find the sky?” Mishal asked, puzzled. To be interred in the ground, alone and cold, while his body slowly turned to dirt was anathema to him. His ashes should be joined to the wind and the sky. He pictured the valos in the Forge, neither dead nor alive and kept so far away from the sky it hurt his heartstone. They needed the crystals from the Northern Valos. Not just for Flin but for all the valos with broken heartstones. They could not fail. They needed to travel faster, and the humans and their sentimentality only delayed their critical mission.

  “Our tribe returns a body to fire. Is that acceptable?” Pel asked.

  Amber nodded, eyes full of gratitude. “Thank you. I know we’re on a time crunch, but this is important. I couldn’t live with myself if we just left him there.”

  Pel and Mishal moved the body from the water. Waterlogged, they could not move it far without risking it falling apart. Fortunately, the garments held enough together to move it to dry land. Scrub bushes served as kindling and caught fire easily. Mishal fed his energy to the fire to sustain it. He would need to rest when the sun set.

  “Do you speak ceremonial words?” Pel asked.

  Amber and Kira stood downwind of the funeral pyre. “I can’t think of anything to say,” Amber said. “He’s been here for a while, I guess. I don’t know his name, but he was a prisoner on the Concord. I’m sorry he had to die this way.”

  “His body returns to the fire, but his spirit will return to the sky. He will join the ancestors and his tribe and no longer be alone,” Mishal said, surprised by his need to comfort Amber.

  She wiped a finger at her eyes. The tears could be from smoke or from emotion. She nodded at his words. “Thank you, that’s nice.”

  Her words warmed him.

  He saw her, truly. He saw a female who refused to be broken by her trauma and had compassion for others.

  His spirit shifted in that moment and opened his heartstone to her. While Mishal had stubbornly willed himself to remain blind to her, insisting that he was broken, their triad broken, Pel saw their mate. Pel saw their future.

  Mishal wanted that, too.

  Pel

  As the sun neared the horizon, Pel spotted waora tracks obvious even for a Hunter as poor as he to find. The humans would eat fresh meat tonight. If he prepared it carefully, there would be enough for several meals. Decided, he pointed to a rocky outcrop in the distance. “Make camp there. The humans will need fire and water. I will hunt,” he told Mishal.

  The waora burrowed under the ground in warrens. Minuscule in size, they were fierce hunters in their own right, preying on smaller creatures. They used camouflage and stealth to trap their prey. Even with their sharp claws and biting fangs, they posed little risk to Pel due to their size. He followed the tracks back to a nest and, in short order, had two creatures dressed and ready for the fire.

  When he returned, the camp had already been prepared, using the rocky outcrop as a windbreak. The humans required rest and, truthfully, Pel was glad to be out of the wind. Seated around a fire—the easier requirement of the journey so far—he marveled at the humans’ endurance.

  “Is that dinner?” Amber asked with obvious anticipation as he finished preparations to put the meat on the fire.

  “I will hunt while game is available,” he said. He set aside the fur to allow them to dry overnight. Conditions were not ideal, but they could line a second set of boots for Amber. He butchered one waora to eat that night and the second to smoke, for tomorrow’s meal. As the meat cooked, he appreciated the aroma. It had been a thousand years since he felt the need to eat, and now the scent of fat dripping into the fire made him regret that change. Perhaps it was the way Amber licked her lips as she waited for her meal.

  Mishal studied her with a disturbing intensity. Just as Pel readied himself to tell Mishal to knock it off, the male surprised him and handed a river fruit to her and then one to Kira. “I can hear your stomach growling,” he said as a way of explanation.

  Pel focused on keeping his expression neutral, knowing that a grin or a smirk would send Mishal fuming into an ill mood. Mishal cared for the well-being of their mate, even as he protested their taking her as a mate.

  “So do we know where we’re headed?” Amber asked. She diligently peeled a river fruit, tossing the rind into the fire. The smoke took on a citrus aroma, the kind he associated with her soap.

  “North,” Pel replied. He grimaced at the poor answer. That was not what she wanted to know. He normally weighed and considered each answer before responding. She made him forget himself.

  “So not Disneyland,” she replied tartly, lips pulled back in a mock-snarl. Juice from the fruit glistened at the corner of her mouth and on her lips. She was adorable. He fought the urge to pluck her down in his lap so he could breathe in the citrus scent of her hair and skin. Pel rubbed his heartstone, fascinated by the possibilities of that impulse.

  “E’Lek is under the dancing lights of the north,” Mishal said.

  “Sounds pretty. Are there a lot of valo cities?”

  Mishal snorted with contempt. “Cities are monuments for the Creators. Valo have no use for them.”

  Pel frowned at his triad brother and gave him a sharp jab to reprimand him. “There is no harm in asking and seeking knowledge,” he said. “There are a few cities. The Creators constructed seats of power, but we lost contact after the Creators left.” He listed the cities that he had seen with his own eyes: “There is the City of Death where nothing can live. The Radiants have the City of the Dawn perched on the back of a huge beast that roams.”

  “Wait, a city on a beast?” Amber asked.

  “It follows the dawn.”

  “How is that? How large… That thing must be huge! It can’t possibly be a real animal.”

  Mishal shrugged. “The Creators made it. The water valos have a city under the water, but I have never seen it,” Mishal said, as if he inexplicably wanted to be part of the conversation.

  “Water and fire don’t mix?” Amber asked, voice completely void of mockery.

  “What are you talking about?” Kira asked. Amber explained quickly.

  “Do we even know if this ice city still exists?” Amber asked, translating for Kira.

  “It better,” Kira mumbled.

  Pel served the first finished portion to Amber. She waved it away. “Kira hasn’t had anything. I can wait.”

>   He offered the meat to Kira and the color left her face. “Are you vegetarian?” A perplexed scowl crossed his face.

  “What?” Kira asked.

  “You do not consume flesh.”

  Kira looked at Amber. “What is he saying?”

  “He wants to know if you eat meat,” Amber said.

  “I absolutely do. It’s just, you know, I saw you butcher it. It had a face.” She accepted the offered piece and nibbled on the edge. Before long, she gave way to hunger and consumed it all.

  Satisfied that he had appeased his mate’s request to serve the other human, he gave the second portion to Amber.

  Mishal inched closer as she ate. He watched her hands, and his eyes never left her mouth as she licked her fingers clean. At some point, she noticed and made a production of licking each finger and humming with exaggerated contentment. Her fingers traced her lower lip and her pink tongue darted out, tasting then returning for a longer swipe. When she had Mishal and Pel’s attention firmly fixed on her, she paused and her hand dropped away.

  “Can I help you with something?” she asked.

  Mishal lifted his chin. Pel cut him off before his triad bother could do irreparable damage. “We have a long journey and weather does not look to favor us. We should rest,” Pel said, speaking over Mishal.

  “As you say,” Mishal said, folding his arms over his chest.

  Kira moved her bedroll further away from the fire. She rested at the edge of the light. Amber kicked off her boots and sighed, stretching and flexing her feet. Pel moved closer to her bedroll and indicated to her feet. “May I?” he asked.

  Surprised, she nodded. He massaged the hard mass of muscle in the arch of her foot.

  “Oh, that feels too good,” Amber said with a breathy moan. His cock immediately responded.

  “No one’s going to rub my feet?” Kira asked.

  “Are you in discomfort?” Pel asked.

  She shook her head at his words. “Stupid translator’s not working. Never mind,” she grumbled, turning her back to the fire.

  Amber settled onto her back, and he continued to knead and rub her feet. He could not think of anything more splendid than his mate under the stars, illuminated by the light of a campfire.

  Of course Mishal had to ruin it. He edged in closer and settled just above her head. Seated, he could look down directly into her face. “What did you steal?”

  Amber’s foot jerked away as she rolled to her knees to face him.

  “Do not ask such things,” Pel snapped. He would not want to be asked to recount the atrocities he committed while a thrall to Sheenika. He did not want Amber to feel the same about her time while imprisoned.

  “No, it’s okay. I was a thief,” she said, voice even. “I stole money. Money is—”

  “I know what money is. My tribe traded with many others,” Mishal said. He leaned in, his face barely a handspan from hers.

  “Well, maybe you bartered? How was I to know you had the abstract concept of currency when everything here is this weird mix of stone age tech and high tech,” Amber retorted. Their noses nearly touched. Mishal’s eyes burned bright in the dark and the firelight highlighted Amber’s profile.

  “What are you talking about now?” Kira asked from her bedroll. Amber gave a short summary. “I’d say it’s more like the bronze age,” Kira said.

  “Don’t you want to know what Kira did?” Amber asked, jerking her head toward the other female. She translated for the other woman, who clearly wanted to be part of the conversation.

  “My triad brother does not demand we take her as a mate, so no, I do not care,” Mishal said.

  “Thanks for that,” Kira grumbled.

  “You’re a real asshole,” Amber said. Her finger prodded him in the chest.

  “I did not claim otherwise.”

  They leaned again, noses nearly touching and lips curled back. Anticipation curled in Pel’s gut. He needed to see them kiss as surely as he needed air.

  “If you’re going to do it, please wait until I’m asleep,” Kira said, voice groggy.

  Mishal drew back and shook his head.

  Amber gave a gesture with one hand before settling back to her bedroll.

  Pel suspected the gesture had been crude. He would check in the morning.

  Amber

  Amber folded her arms behind her head and lay on her back, staring up at the stars. The twin moons in the night sky reminded her how far she was from home. She had long ago given up the little game of trying to spot Earth, or even guess which section of the sky might point in the direction of Earth. There was no way home. Deciding which direction the Milky Way lay was a waste of energy.

  She was so tired of just surviving. Back on Earth, she struggled to make ends meet in her day-to-day life. Her salary barely covered rent, utilities, and food. Add the cost of her mother’s medicine and debt slowly crushed the life out of Amber. Amber did what she had to do to get her mother her medicine. She hid away enough money in shell accounts to keep paying for her mother’s medicine for years. Her only regret was not being there.

  The time she spent on the Concord—served, actually—was pure survival. She had to think about herself first, even if it chipped away at her humanity.

  The camp the valos made was positively luxurious compared to the months she spent in the wilderness after the Concord crashed. The bedroll had enough of a cushion that she could ignore the ache in her back. Asking Pel to rub her shoulders tempted her but she better not. Kira was grumbling enough and Amber couldn’t trust herself not to do anything.

  She couldn’t figure Pel and Mishal out. Pel was so damn eager to please her. He propositioned her with a bluntness that flattered and excited her. He wanted to be mated. Just like that. No getting to know each other. No awkward first date or meeting the parents. Her mother would faint at the sight of the valos. Amber couldn’t imagine how her mother’s poor heart would handle knowing that her baby girl was ready to get married to aliens. With her weak heart, it’d kill her.

  Then again, her mother had always been the jump-first-and-look-second type of person. She’d probably surprise Amber and be into alien loving.

  Pel wanted a relationship, but he was a package deal with Mishal. And Flin, she supposed. If they ever managed to repair his heartstone. What was his personality like? How did he fit in? She’d ask in the morning. Her eyes were heavy enough that she’d likely nod off during a conversation.

  She supposed Pel was the heart of the triad. He spoke what he felt with no filter, which charmed her. Mishal brooded and churned over his emotions, demanding answers. He demanded the same from her, wanting explanations for their chemistry and attraction. She couldn’t explain it. She shouldn’t want the mule-headed man, but she did. He sparked a desire deep in her and her body positively vibrated with excitement when he came close.

  That could just be the sexual frustration talking.

  Her skin tingled at the memory of Mishal’s touch as he gripped her arms and pulled her close. Heat radiated off his body but not dangerously so. She wondered what skin-to-skin would feel like as her nails dug into his shoulders and her legs wrapped around his waist.

  Amber squeezed her thighs together to relieve some of the pressure building in her core. Slipping her hand under her waistband and taking care of herself felt wrong, not with Kira in earshot. She didn’t care if Pel or Mishal heard. She wanted them to hear. She wanted them to know what they did to her.

  She rolled over, resting her head on folded arms. Pel wanted a relationship and a future, but Mishal wanted something far more primal and carnal. They could start with that, if they ever got a moment alone.

  Chapter Nine

  Amber

  Snow fell, and the wind picked up overnight. A few inches of powdery snow covered the ground surrounding the campsite and piled into drifts around the rocks. Grey clouds blocked the sun. The wind cut through all the layers she wore and chilled her skin. Amber shivered as she put on her boots. At least they were dry.

>   “You are cold,” Pel said.

  “I’ll be fine once I get moving.” Amber gnawed on a piece of smoked meat left over from last night’s dinner. She forced herself to swallow, not feeling particularly hungry, but she knew her body needed the calories. She lost all the junk in her trunk after the Concord crashed, and she hadn’t really got it back yet. Life in the City in the Caldera was soft with plenty of food. Her old curves began to come back, but she hadn’t completely regained her figure.

  Kira nibbled on her own breakfast, seemingly unaffected by the cold.

  “I made tea,” Pel said, pressing a hot mug into her hand.

  Amber caught the familiar aroma of her preferred blend, earthy and just a bit minty. “Thank you,” she said, tears pricking at her eyes. She wiped them away quickly, embarrassed at her reaction to Pel’s thoughtfulness. It was just tea, for crying out loud.

  “What is wrong?” he asked, concern in his voice.

  “Nothing. Just the wind.” She washed down the smoked meat with the tea, hoping he wouldn’t press her further on her obvious fib. He took care of her. No one had cared for her in years. Even back before her time in prison, she was always the caregiver. She was honest enough about herself to know her personality wasn’t exactly meek and mild. She saw a problem, she did something about it. She wasn’t the type of person to wait around for someone to fix it.

  But wasn’t it nice to have someone care about her comfort? A warm, content feeling settled in her chest.

  “There is a storm coming. We cannot be caught in it,” Mishal said, already packing up the camp.

  “We should be half a day from the cliffs. If we head out now, we can shelter there before the storm arrives,” Pel said.

  “Sounds good,” Amber said. She had no desire to be caught in a storm without shelter.

  Mishal took the pack from her. Surprised, she didn’t let go of the strap. “Give it to me,” he snapped.