“Ah, young love.” She crushed the cigarette in an ashtray on the counter, picked up the basket and put it away, on the bottom shelf, in the pantry.
Right then, it occurred to him that perhaps he shouldn’t have used the stupid thing. It belonged to his parents. Who knew how many memories it contained? He also noticed bread crusts on the floor near the trashcan. In his hurry to clean up, he’d apparently missed. Ah crap. Any sort of mess pushed a mad-button on his mother, setting her off.
When she faced him again, her wine glass had been refilled and she held an extra glass. Michael knew she’d filled it for him. Not good. He pulled a barstool from under the counter and sat.
She placed his glass on the marbled granite countertop next to him. Then set hers down, too. From the elastic of her sweats, she pulled out a box of cigarettes, opened it and grabbed one along with a banana-yellow lighter. In a quick motion, she sucked the cigarette to life. Her ashy hollowed-out face and bony body reminded him of a rotting carcass.
The time had come. No sense trying to fight the inevitable. That only made matters worse. He hunkered down, pressing his forearms into the edge of the counter. With a flick of his chin, he motioned toward the wine. “No thanks, I have a game tomorrow.”
“Suit yourself.” She scooted his glass over next to hers and before he’d totally prepared, backhanded him across the face. “That’s for taking my stuff without asking.” No need to yell, her hand spoke volumes.
“Yes, Mother. It won’t happen again.” Michael lowered his gaze. His face stung a little, but he didn’t let the fact that he’d felt anything show. He breathed in deeply and swallowed. She wasn’t done.
“You make me sick. It’s your fault your father left.” He watched her face now, could see the near frenzied anger dancing in her eyes. The silvered light from outside made them flicker. “If you’d never been born, if that stupid ali—” She stopped, frightened and looked around the kitchen. After a moment, she continued, “Frank and I would still be together. You ruined everything.”
He closed his eyes and forced his heart to slow down. Do not feel. Don’t let her get to you. It didn’t help. Rage tore through him. He hated everyone. His dad, the guys on the football team, and girls. Cheverly. His mother. He pounded a fist on the counter, allowing the fury to build.
“Mother.” The word came out more anguished than angry. He opened his eyes in time to see the wrath on his mother’s face ease. She caused him pain to lessen her own. He knew it, accepted it, and allowed it. But, he’d only suffer so much.
Maliciously, he went on, “It’s your fault I’m alive. Remember that!” Her hand came up to hit him again. He smacked it away. “Enough!” He may’ve allowed her emotional abuse and permitted her to slap him around some, because he felt sorry for her, but he wasn’t taking any more. Not today.
“Don’t talk that way to me. I’m still your mother,” Catherine yelled, pounding her cigarette on the edge of a quartz ashtray.
Michael glared, but didn’t say a word, stifling the rest of the words he wanted to spew her direction. There wasn’t any point and he knew it, so he held his tongue.
“Fine!” She picked up the glass of wine she’d poured for him and threw it across the kitchen. It smashed against one of the mahogany stained cupboards, next to the refrigerator. He watched it shatter, the broken pieces flying everywhere. One of the glass shards struck him below his right eye. He felt the cut line with blood and trickle down his cheek. The stench of copper and fermented grapes swirled in the air, an interesting combination, especially when added to the lingering cloud of smoke. “Clean up the mess in here.” She lifted her wine glass and shuffled out.
“Yes, Mother.” He went and picked up a piece of glass. A drop of blood dripped onto the bone white tile. I have to get out of here.
CHAPTER 4
Second Chances
Dervinias was kelvieri by species, and a scientist by trade. As he leaned over his microscope and peered into the lens, a high-pitched ping flicked behind his right eye.
Only one person had access to him by this means of communication—the King of Canaru—his boss, and adulterer father. The man who’d banished him to Earth almost two centuries ago. He closed the lid over his eye and touched the center of it with his middle finger. An image of the King blipped into his eye. “Your Highness, to what do I owe this honor?”
“Listen closely. Palmo has royally mucked up. Venus is headed toward Earth.”
“How many times has he screwed up? When will you learn, fa—”
“Hold your tongue.”
“But Earth. Why? That wasn’t part of the plan. She was to be sent to Jihyra.”
“I know that,” he roared. “He was at least successful in convincing all of Kelari that the princess is a traitor and a murderer. And that she’s run away to avoid her fate.”
“Still—”
“Quiet! Venus must be destroyed. Immediately upon her arrival.”
“You know I can’t kill our kind. If I did, you know what’ll happen, unless you’ve forgotten. And I’d be no use to you there.” As he spoke, he dropped a blue liquid onto the cells. Under the microscope, he watched them writhe, multiply and suddenly start to die. Damn.
“You’re of no use to me now. At least not yet. This is your chance to redeem yourself. Though you cannot kill her yourself, I’m sure one of your teenaged followers would be more than willing. They’ve been killing for you quite a while now, have they not?”
Dervinius threw the slide into the trash and froze. “Wha-What are you talking about?”
“Do not disrespect me with your lies! Did you really believe I had no idea what you’ve been doing on that planet? I know everything. Make this happen or the next time we speak, I won’t be so understanding.”
“Yes, your Highness.”
But his father had already gone.
CHAPTER 5
I Know You’re Out There Somewhere
Fields of yellow wave and sing
White as cream, an iridescent peak
Oceans so meek burst slimy moss
Hide us from the Albatross.
The lyrical words replayed themselves in her mind. It’d come from some obscure American poet years ago when Venus had been studying Earth. She liked the way the consonants and vowels bounced around in her head.
A riddle of some kind, she’d spent hours pondering what the poetry meant. Venus reached the conclusion the poet meant a jellyfish or squid. They were both cream colored and lived in the ocean. Also, the albatross ate those creatures. So, it seemed plausible that the slippery little things would hide. Lastly, the fields of yellow were anemone. Puzzle solved. But, a part of her guessed there was a deeper meaning—another layer. What the layer could be, she had yet to discover.
“Princess. Are you hurt?” His voice sounded far away, but still annoying as a giant mosqarite, the constant buzzing almost worse than the bite. “Venus.”
“Zaren, I’m trying to sleep. Get out.” Her mouth felt stuffed with cotton. She licked her lips and cleared her throat. What the cret is Zaren doing in my room? “Liquid, please,” she commanded the Sensors while trying to sit. That’s when she realized she wasn’t where she should’ve been. No relaxing bed with Body Sensors keeping track of her sleeping needs. If she’d been in bed, Venus wouldn’t have had a pounding headache or a crick in her back. She’d have been much more comfortable.
“I’ll find you some as soon as I know you’re alright.” His large hands wrapped around her wrists and tugged. “Anything feel broken? Are you hurt? Can you sit?”
With effort, she moved into the upright position. The air, the light from the Kelarian suns, even the smells around her all smattered together and formed a strange heaviness. Questions swam around in her head. How did I get out here? When did I begin my journey? Had Zaren come with me? Where was Sadraden? “Zaren, what’s going on?”
“Open your eyes. Try,” he pressed, gently.
She forced her lashes apart, blinked a few times. Z
aren, his handsomely concerned face swirled blurry in front of her.
“Huh,” he said, raising one of his thick eyebrows. “What about the rest of you?”
Venus straightened her back, listening to it pop as she moved her neck in slow circular motions. Her insides felt heavy, like trying to push out of the water, but someone held her in.
Maybe my body’s started the metamorphosis. Maybe it has something to do with my boots . . .
Her Kelvieri’s Boots.
The shaman had bestowed a blessing upon her after presenting them. Perhaps that was where the weightiness came from. She didn’t know. She’d asked, but never received a straight answer.
The boots were surrounded in mystery. Her professors and parents had advised that their secrets would be unlocked with time. They’d said all she needed to know was they had to be worn in order to find the entrance to the Manshum Mountains, home to the Gods. The boots were like a pull or a guide, tuned into their Creator—Aetha—the first to have risen with the immortal’s boots.
Without them, a young kel wouldn’t be able to finish the ceremony. Venus had also been told that taking the journey and making the change from a young kelphi into a kelvieri came at a price.
“Princess? Answer me. Everything working in there? ” Zaren tapped her on the head.
“Stop,” she said, shifting away from his hand. “I guess I’m fine. But the way I’m breathing, even the way you and I sound . . . Hey, wait a second. Why are we speaking English?”
“Venus, we need to talk.” Lines creased his forehead. Zaren appeared anxious about whatever they were going to discuss. She studied his face. The angle of his jaw, the way his lips pressed together, and wondered what had happened.
“Yeah, I’d say so. What the helker’s going on?” She teetered to her feet, brushing away the mental cobwebs. Her brain screamed that she’d slept through a problem of cosmic proportions.
“Someone sent you to Earth.” His intense green eyes watched her. Clear. Steady. Anxious.
She peered back, blown away.
Venus had always appreciated his straightforwardness. He never minced words or tried to hide the facts. It’s why they’d worked well together for so long. But this, well she wasn’t prepared. It was too outrageous. How? Why? Who?
“Wha—” She knew how un-princess-like that sounded. Nausea made her stomach turn. That explained why they no longer were speaking their language. Her head, clogged with jumbled madness, pulsed like a beating drum.
She remembered Amberlee had stomped from her room. Going backward over the details, she recalled her and Amberlee talking—about Sadraden and the necklace. The necklace. She reached a hand to her throat. It wasn’t there.
After Amberlee left, Venus had finished packing, dressed and . . .
Blood.
Irrihunter blood. The deep blue substance seemed to have come from the necklace. What could’ve happened to it? Maybe the same place as her coverlet, which was missing, too. She wore only her boots and unisa.
“Princess, talk to me.” He grabbed her under the chin.
“I’m thinking.” Then she said, “Where are we?”
“Near Fort Collins, Colorado. In the United States.” Zaren stretched his arms above his head. Limbering up, Venus supposed.
“Oh.” Why the helker would someone send me to Earth? From her studies, she knew Colorado was located in the western portion of America.
Venus needed to pace. It helped her think when she didn’t have something to organize. So much needed to be done, she had to get back. What must her parents be thinking? They were probably worried sick. And her irrihunter, Sadraden. Holy cret! Venus could only imagine how anxious the animal would be.
Feeling Zaren watching her, she snuck a peek. His face lined with worry. Probably thought she was freaking out—losing it. “Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, kicking a rock that’d been unlucky enough to be in her path. Technically Zaren’s position was that of a servant. Her personal guard. Her very own Formytian. But he and Venus were more. Not brother and sister, not even best friends anymore. Venus trusted Zaren with her life.
“Your eyes, they’re so beautiful.” His smile dazzled and she forgot for a moment she’d been sent to another planet. “No longer silver, but the loveliest shade of blue.”
“Really?” Venus couldn’t help but grin back. “Wait. They aren’t supposed to have changed yet. I’m not kelvieri.”
“I know. It’s probably this planet’s atmosphere. Your skin, too. It’s . . .” His large, tanned hand brushed against her arm. She followed his touch, unable to ignore the slight tingle. “. . . no longer metallic white.”
Lifting her arm into the light, she saw he spoke the truth. Her skin had changed color. Peaches came to mind. Definitely not even a hint of silver.
“Holy cretity-cret, you’re right.” She giggled in a very un-princess-like fashion. As the future queen, she probably needed to work on her demeanor under pressure.
His lips quivered, as though he were holding back a laugh. Lifting a piece of her hair, he brought it around for her to see. It glimmered against the sun’s rays, no longer stark white, but the color of the Phoebis Rurina. According to her Earth Studies book, the beautiful yellow butterfly originated in Peru. It’d been one of her favorites—the color of its wings melding from a light to bright yellow—as did her new hair color. Also, her hair curled at the ends, like a spring. She pulled at one and it bounced back into place.
“Much better, don’t you think?” She looked to Zaren for approval with a hesitant smile. His opinion meant a great deal to her. He’d been the only one to understand how much the constant kelarian sameness upset her.
With gentle hands, he brushed her hair back, off her face. “You’ve always been unique and lovely.”
Venus huffed.
He caressed her cheek with his thumb. “Yes, you look wonderful.”
She briefly relaxed and leaned into his caress. That was what she’d needed to hear. “Thanks, Zaren. I can’t wait to see my eyes.” She watched his face change, noticed the urgency in his features. That look. She knew the opportunity to check out her new features would have to come later. Right now, she needed to be serious. “How did this happen? Where are the Transports?”
He dropped his hand and turned. From experience she knew this meant he wrestled with whatever he needed to say. “Zaren?” Venus touched him on the shoulder, turning him to face her. “Whatever it is, you might as well tell me.” She smiled, hoping it came out encouraging. He kept his gaze down and she followed. With a strange expression, he focused on her boots.
After the boots had been given, the Gods gave young kels one week to complete their journey. That meant she needed to get back quickly, to finish the ImmoTrans Ceremony. No problem, right? She hadn’t any idea how long she’d been out of it or what day it was. “Formytian? Talk to me.”
Their eyes met. She saw his worry. His anger.
When he spoke, she sensed his fear. “I went to your room a few hours after you left your birthday party. You’d told both Agen and I you were to begin your journey later that night. The stable master came to me saying Sadraden grew impatient. He wanted to know when to expect you.”
Venus nodded, knowing Sadraden would’ve been upset. Worry for the irrihunter tugged at her. Venus hoped Agen had been able to calm the animal. Stress bothered her. Hopefully no one had died. Sadraden’s large razor-sharp claws and giant mouthful of pointed teeth were lethal. Her pregnancy had increased her ferociousness and she’d become moody in the, I want to kill, way.
He continued, taking her hand. “I knocked, but you didn’t answer. Protocol demanded I leave you alone, but . . .”
CHAPTER 6
Trouble
Venus chortled. As her personal Formytian, her safety overrode everything else.
“I entered your room and noticed your packed bag. I called out. When you didn’t answer, I began to worry. As I searched your room, I noticed a small drop of irrihunter blood o
n your sheets. Normally, had any sort of bodily fluid touched your covers the Body Sensors would’ve gone off. After a quick check, it became apparent someone had tampered with the mechanism. Knowing foul play was afoot, I ran to get your father . . .”
He paused, running a hand through his glorious, black hair. His eyes had glazed over, as though he were back on Kelari, reliving what’d happened. “. . . but he’d vanished as well. The same goes for your mother and your sister. As of this moment, I have no idea where they are.” He watched her, his gaze full of sorrow.
Panic gathered in her stomach and settled like too much food. She moved away, watching a squirrel scamper up a tree. “Zaren, do you think they’re alright?” She turned toward him, dreading the answer.
He shook his head, bent over and ripped a long blade of yellow grass out of the ground. “I hope so. As I headed toward the stables, hoping you’d found your way there, I heard a Transport charging in the Travelling Room. I tried the door, but it’d been jammed from the inside.”
“How’d they do that?”
“I’m not sure. If I’d have stayed I probably could’ve figured it out. But I wanted to hurry. As it was it took some time to override the signal. When I finally got in, the Transport had left its dock. I hailed it, praying to the Gods there was a reasonable explanation, but no one responded. So I turned on the holographic imaging and saw you, out like a light. Pulling up the computer’s Voyage Log, the coordinates revealed your destination—Earth. I punched in an emergency return travel plan, but the mechanism had been jammed. That left one option—follow you.” He threw the now mutilated weed to the ground. “I’m sorry. This wouldn’t have happened had I stayed with you.”
“You can’t be with me every second.” She bent to retrieve a blade of dried wheat grass. The texture was similar to anony, a tall weed on Kelari. With a fingernail, she split it open and then pulled it apart, forcing her anxieties on the helpless weed.
Past the Ages: Book Two Page 14
