Star Angel: Rising (Star Angel Book 4)

by David G. McDaniel

  It felt so good. She could almost feel the water coursing through her, like blood through her veins.

  For a long time after that she simply sat there, hands on the bucket, hugging it to her, feeling herself coming more alive.

  At some point she found herself studying her surroundings. It was the hut she remembered. Like an old mud or clay adobe, curtained openings for windows and a doorway with no door, open on the rainy afternoon. There was another cot across the way, a few chairs, tables, including a small one there by her, the fire pit and a number of shelves with odds and ends on them. Like the hut of a shaman or the village witch doctor or something.

  She recalled the old man. Piecing together images from that night she met him.

  How long had she been here?

  Suddenly it felt like a long, long time.

  She swayed unsteadily on the cot.

  The last she remembered was being up on the plateau, waiting for Zac, those strange dog-headed guards watching her. The giant blue planet on the horizon. Then the old man and that young boy were coming to her …

  Carefully she sat the bucket to the floor. Made a more detailed inspection of herself, not daring yet to stand. She was woozy but, from what she could see, looked fine. Leaner, maybe, and she realized she probably hadn’t eaten for however long she’d been out. Of course she hadn’t. They wouldn’t have IVs or anything like that here.

  Then, as if on cue, she started to feel the hunger. A deep, growling emptiness in the pit of her stomach.

  Her mind drifted, to before her arrival, wherever “here” was. Analytically she knew she should be terrified, all alone in a strange place with strange people—that could speak inside her head, she remembered all at once—Egyptian dog-headed guards and no possible way back. Yet, whether from the fever or some other shift of mental state, she felt no fear at all. Merely the desire to find out just what the hell was going on.

  Before popping there with that suicidal member of the Bok she’d been searching the Bok castle for Zac, then Zac showed up and the Bok produced another Icon and … pow, suddenly she was here. This world, up on the plateau. She glanced over her shoulder, at the curtained window behind her in that direction. The steps were out there, not far away, leading up to the spot where she’d arrived. Did Zac come for her while she was out?

  No. He would’ve found her by now.

  Nevertheless, at the thought of the time that might’ve passed she began feeling a bit frantic.

  She noticed her fingers, then her toes. All trace of the polish she knew she’d had on when she came was gone. No way it could simply have worn off. Her nails were as short as they had been when she painted them in the first place, and as she thought of this she reached and felt of her matted hair; pulled a few strands to their full length and noted her hair was as long as it had been too. This gave her perspective. Maybe days had passed, maybe even weeks, but not months.

  Why did someone remove the nail polish? It was obvious someone had tried to take care of her during her fever or whatever came over her. She was certain it was the old man. But why? Questions, so many questions, and those were only the most basic. The biggest, of course:

  Where the hell am I?

  She leaned a little forward at the edge of the cot. Put more weight on her feet, pressed the soles flat against the dirt floor, carefully rolled herself forward, lifted her butt from the cot, hands still gripping the sides and … stood. She felt the strain in her thighs as those unused muscles protested but managed to straighten her legs until … she was fully erect. For a few moments she stood there swooning, bracing her calves against the cot, hoping it didn’t slide away as she worked to find her balance.

  Now that she was standing she could see there was definitely no one else in the room. Outside the rain was steady enough that she doubted anyone was out there either. It seemed she was alone. She looked around, adjusting to the movement of her head, trying to find anything with which to cover herself. The sheet was soaked; there was nothing in sight. Where had the old man put the overalls? That’s what she’d been wearing. That and the old farm shirt. None of those clothes were anywhere to be seen.

  Cautiously she took a step away from the cot, then another. Stood free in the room, nothing to lean against, nothing to grab onto. All her senses were rapidly returning, faster than expected. Remarkably she was starting to feel whole again.

  And completely wiped.

  She walked closer to the fire pit and, deciding to experiment, squatted beside it. She wobbled on the effort, placed a hand to the floor in front of her and went all the way down till her butt touched her heels. After a moment like that she was able to lift her hand and squat on the balls of her feet, growing more steady by the second. For a while she stayed that way, warming herself by the heat of the small fire, then stood and felt the blood rush to her head. Dizzy, but it passed.

  On the wall directly across from the fire hung what looked to be a long sheet of brass. Beside one of the shelves, facing so she could see the reflection of the open doorway. Whether it was meant as a mirror or something else, its reflective surface was perfect for that purpose. She watched the images visible in it; rain water running down from the overhang outside the door. The skies were gray with the earlier downpour and it was hard to tell if it was early or late or right in the middle of the day. Only that it was, in fact, daytime. Part of her wanted to go to the door, to see what was out there, but she found herself drawn to the polished brass. Curious she walked toward it until her own reflection came to view. The metal was long enough and wide enough for her to see her whole self in its shiny surface, straight with no distortion, and for an instant, as her own form floated right there before her, she worked to process the fact that it was actually herself she was looking at. Not that she looked any different. Really she didn’t. It was just …

  What was I expecting?

  It was her. Only … My eyes.

  They were totally yellow.

  Her eyes in her face yet … totally new. Whereas before when they looked that color it seemed nothing more than a trick of the light—turn her head this way and her eyes appeared yellow, turn it that and they didn’t—now no matter which way she turned, no matter which way they caught the light, their change was unmistakable. Permanent. Yellow was their new color. A golden depth, rich, sparkling; like tiger eyes from any angle.

  Wild.

  And yet …

  After all the running, all the stumbling from one bad situation to the next, just trying to find a way out, just trying to survive, for one sharp, shuddering moment of crystalline lucidity, standing there looking into her own yellow eyes she had the overwhelming, empowering, feeling that all that running from had really been running to and that now, somehow …

  She’d arrived.

  And all at once it was too much.

  She grabbed the edge of a nearby shelf and forcibly held herself erect, willing strength into her knees. Desperately she put her attention on the rest of her, wanting to bring her thoughts quickly back to the present. The rest of her looked mostly … her. A little leaner, as she’d already noted on the cot. Slimmer but not gaunt. The opposite of gaunt, in fact; the slight slimming actually made her more defined. Made her features more … striking. And as she stood there staring at herself, continuing to feel so oddly disconnected—like floating free of her own body, mind buzzing—her thoughts did move to the present. Taken with just how pretty she was. Amazing, actually. She looked amazing.

  Have I always looked like this? It was revelatory to imagine. Could I always have? It wasn’t vanity, not even close, just a simple observation of reality. Her hair was a matted mess. A wild tangle about her head. She had no makeup or anything, she was utterly naked yet …

  Absolutely gorgeous.

  Suddenly she noticed she wasn’t the only one staring. Before she could even let it settle, let it process, she had an admirer. There, in the reflection in the doorway behind her, another figure. She recognized it as the boy, the one who’d bee
n with the old man up on the plateau.

  The one who told her so rudely no one was coming for her.

  Without thinking, without considering the fact that she was naked—without any reaction at all to his unexpected appearance, no sudden start, no twitch or feeling of mortification—she turned to face him.

  The boy was her height, maybe even a touch taller, though undoubtedly younger now that she saw him clearly. He stood in the doorway just a few paces away, not entering, dripping from having been out in the rain. He looked as if he’d probably been on his way to the hut for something, maybe to check on her, and was having a hard time processing this unexpected turn of events. As they stood there staring at each other, unmoving, she wondered why she didn’t bother to at least turn to the side or find cover or even shoo him away. There she was, full frontal nudity head to toe, not even bothering to throw a hand over her breasts or, especially and at least, down there. Nothing. Just standing there on full display, arms at her sides. It wasn’t that she wanted him to see her naked. She didn’t, particularly.

  It was just that she didn’t care.

  What a strange feeling!

  The seemingly misplaced euphoria was slow to fade. And as she debated how best to address him, what way to speak when she knew he wouldn’t understand—remembering also that he’d spoken in her mind just as the old man had, which sent up her guard at once—just as she felt her hackles rising at what to do, feeling far more naked in her mind than she did physically, the old man came up behind him out of the rain. This seemed to snap the boy from his trance. The old man stepped around him into the hut. Both of them were drenched but didn’t seem to give it any attention. It was raining so they got wet. That was the simplicity of it.

  the old man’s voice came to her and she flinched.

  This talking-in-the-head stuff was going to take some getting used to.

  “No,” she shook her head, not knowing what else to do; not knowing how else to communicate.

  he responded, and she wondered if he understood the word or simply got the shake of her head.

  As the moment stretched she could tell the boy was trying to muster disdain, for both her and the situation, and perhaps even a little for the old man, but she could see it was hard for him not to be taken by the sight of her. If she had to guess from the subtle but conflicting expressions fighting back and forth across his face she would say he was totally enraptured. She noticed his hands had gone to the front of the loincloth and was suddenly quite certain he was trying to hide more obvious signs of his feelings. It made her feel even more brazen. After all, no matter where she was, no matter what world this was, he was a boy and she was a girl and she was fully nude right there in front of him. He had to be having a hard time—and she sniggered internally at her own pun—being anything other than … inspired.

  She shifted her focus from that and tried to figure out the two of them. Sensing a certain ridge between the boy and the old man, and she found herself trying to read either of their minds the way they seemed to be reading hers.

  the old man introduced himself. It was so strange to hear him in her head and for him to be simultaneously standing there quietly, leaning on his long staff, staring at her with those bright green eyes, lips not moving. She noticed Haz had the same green eyes. Both had light negro complexions and features, like African but maybe a little of something else.

  “My name is Jessica,” she said.

  Then what Galfar said struck her.

  Son?

  The old man looked, like, eighty or something. The kid was barely a teen. She’d heard of rare examples on Earth, old tribal leaders siring dozens of children, all the way until they were almost dead. Men could keep having babies forever if they were, um, up for it, but …

  Galfar gave her a sly grin and she wondered if he’d read her mind.

  He let that expression fade and continued his introduction. he said. He looked at Haz. At that Haz looked away for the first time, finally peeling his eyes from her naked body. He seemed almost happy to do so, able to perhaps get himself a little more under control. He stared at the ground.

  And again Jess wondered why she continued to just stand there facing them both, not feeling an ounce of embarrassment.

  said Galfar and moved toward her.

  “Yes.” She nodded. So far he seemed to be understanding her. She decided to test the limits of their communication. “I’m hungry,” she said, thought to rub her belly but didn’t, deciding instead to see if the words alone were comprehended.

  They were.

  Galfar motioned to Haz.

  Jess started to say she could do it, “I can—” but Galfar waved her silent. Haz grumbled and made to do as ordered. First he brought bread of some kind and what looked to be cheese from one of the containers on the shelves. Jess took it as he handed it to her—Haz making sure everyone got the fact that he did not like being told what to do—and she was again aware of being naked, in front of them both, going about such normal tasks without being self conscious in the least. Like being at a nudist colony or something. Things had definitely shifted for her.

  She took a bite of the bread and chewed hungrily. No need for manners or propriety at that point. The bread was good, though she was so starved she thought a piece of wood might taste good, and as she swallowed her stomach growled audibly. The cheese was even better and she ate ravenously as the boy put fresh bedding on the cot and fetched a new sheet from a corner box.

  As she watched all this she wondered if the old man could read her mind, not seeing any indication that he could. Was he listening to her now?

  I can’t wait to find out more, she thought, then looked at him to see if he heard. He was watching the boy. No sign that he did. Can you hear me?

  Nothing.

  So it wasn’t mind reading.

  Then Haz was finished and so was she. She wolfed down the last bites of cheese and wanted more. But, like the water, had the idea she should probably let that settle. The chunk of bread and cheese had both been big.

  Galfar led her over to the bed and bid her sit.

  She did. Feeling tired, now that she sat there a moment, fresh, dry sheets, comfortable feeling of a full belly taking hold. She reached for the bucket on the floor and took a sip. Galfar and Haz were staring at her. Galfar stood near, leaning on his staff, Haz across the room, back to being infatuated. Even as the boy’s eyes roved she found herself fading.

  The old man was right.

  She definitely needed more rest.

  **

  The wolves were on the hunt again. Somewhere, out there in the dark night, circling up and down the mountain, frustration clear in their howls. It was a clear night tonight. A new night. How many nights had passed … Zac had lost track. Maybe only a few. Maybe many. He’d been sitting in the same spot for some time, that much he knew, lost in his own mind and now, for the first time in that whole stretch of sunrises and sunsets, he was awake. Alert. It was as if he’d become aware all at once; like coming to and realizing you’d had your eyes open the whole time, staring into space. He was sitting there against the tree contemplating the wolves, thinking on their motivation, wondering why they yet stalked him … and in that same moment realized these were the first coherent thoughts he’d had in some time.

  Maybe it was finally time to move.

  With that idea firmly in mind—and before he might drift again—he made himself shift and rise to his feet.

  The snow on the ground was less. Less than he last remembered. It was spring on this world—he recalled Jess telling him—warmer months ahead. Maybe a lot of time had passed. Suddenly he felt a tingling urgency. Depression brought him there, depression kept him there, and now he wished suddenly he’d never succumbed to tha
t insidious gloom. Everyone was gone, he had a useless Icon and no way to save Jessica, yet he was alive and whole and could certainly do something. Start somewhere. On this world there was nothing that could stand in his way.

  Why had he sat there so uselessly?

  He determined in that same instant to use all of Earth’s resources if he had to in order to make sense of what happened. He would make the Project help him. He would go back to the farm if needed, use that map to learn where all the Bok were and hunt the rest of them down one by one until he got answers.

  Yes. He would sweep the Bok. A global purge. Wherever they were in the world. There were certainly more than had been in the castle. There had to be. They would know more of this Icon. He would become their scourge, their ruin, and in the process he would find Jessica. If Nani was still up there, if Willet and Satori were still out there, somewhere, then they would find him soon enough.

  He looked down at the Icon in his hand. Same hand, same grip he’d been holding it with the whole time. It glinted in the moonlight, catching the reflection of a full disk in the clear sky overhead. The light of the moon was brilliant high up there on the mountain. Even a human with normal eyesight would’ve been able to see clearly that night. He looked around.

  Listening to the wolves yelping down below, fading far off into the night.

  Yes.

  It was his turn to go on the hunt.

  CHAPTER 17: A LESSON IN HISTORY

  Jess opened her eyes on a warm scene. She was on the cot, under sheets—dry sheets, no sweating—laying on her side, looking out on the interior of the small hut. As the last time she awoke she remained still, letting her senses adjust. The fire in the fire pit was a little higher than she recalled, giving off nice waves of soothing heat. It was dark outside. Had night fallen? She looked toward the door, seeing there was definitely no sun in the sky—and that the old man was there, sitting at the foot of the bed. It didn’t startle her. Oddly she found his unexpected presence comforting.