Retribution: Book Four of the Harvesters Series

by Luke R. Mitchell

  Neither Rachel nor Jarek relished their time spent in Senate conferences. But it was important, she would remind them both. It was arduous and irritating, and sometimes it made her want to blast a hole through the wall, but getting the planet on one page, even a slightly jumbled one, was crucial to their long-term survival as a species.

  With the infrastructure steadily strengthening and the threats to life and crop land severely reduced, they’d at least managed to agree on a few things already. Everyone, for instance, was being encouraged to begin repopulating.

  On a planet full of people who’d spent fifteen years mostly in fear and more recently escaped from the jaws of certain death by rakul, feverish doses of getting busy wasn’t such a hard sell. It seemed plenty of folks got started on their own with that one—several of their friends included. Johnny and Lea, for one, were now publicly shacking up together. Michael and Chambers, to Rachel’s decidedly satisfied approval, had recently done the same.

  No, enjoying their survival to the fullest came naturally enough. It was convincing everyone it was actually safe to bring children into the world that was taking a bit more doing.

  “There’s a lot of work to do,” Rachel said, coming back to the conversation.

  A woeful understatement.

  Jarek came up behind her and Drogan and clapped a hand to each of their shoulders. “But we’ll just keep on beating up marauders and keeping the peace while the world crawls back together. At least until Rache gets her new Jedi academy up and running.”

  Haldin and Elise both turned to her with newfound interest.

  “An academy?” Elise asked.

  “That’s very much in the air right now,” she said, frowning at Jarek. “They put the call out for anyone with arcane talents. We’ve had a few step forward. I’m not really holding my breath for many more. Still not sure how it’s all gonna play out, but The Senate wants me to teach them to fight and enchant weapons and so forth.”

  For some reason, that made Haldin and Elise exchange a knowing smile.

  “You’ll do an amazing job, Rachel,” Haldin said.

  Elise nodded her confident agreement.

  “And what will you two do, exactly?” Jarek asked.

  Something in his tone had changed, like he’d just confirmed something sad to be true.

  Haldin frowned down at the dark crumbs on his plate. “We’re growing stronger.”

  He didn’t sound excited about it.

  “We’re … worried,” Elise added. “About a lot of things.” Her hand drifted to her abdomen, presumably where Lietha had taken up residence. “All four of us.”

  “You want me and Drogan to suit up and smack you around a bit?” Jarek asked. “Remind you what it feels like?”

  Haldin smiled. “Guess there’d be a certain poetry in that, considering how we first met back in the woods of Unity.”

  A soft sadness drifted over Rachel as it dawned on her what Jarek had realized. “I think the poetry would be if you’d come here to say goodbye.”

  They said nothing.

  “You came here to say goodbye, didn’t you?”

  They both looked … not quite guilty. Just regretful, their smiles wan.

  “Why?” Rachel asked.

  “In short”—Haldin held up his and Elise’s interlocked hands from underneath the cover of the island—“because these hands, lovely as they are,” he added with a sidelong glance to Elise, “were made for fighting, not for peace.”

  Rachel frowned at said hands, not really sure what to say. Finally, she went with, “That’s a bit melodramatic, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah,” Jarek added. “Seriously. You could probably plow the shit out of a field with those bad boys.”

  For a moment, the Enochians’ smiles turned to true amusement. Haldin even chuckled. But then that sadness crept back in.

  They’d already made their minds up. That much was clear.

  “What will you do?” Rachel asked.

  “Well …” Haldin started, looking at Elise.

  “We were thinking we might go dragon hunting,” Elise said.

  “Ah,” Jarek murmured.

  Silence hung in the kitchen for a stretch before he continued.

  “Shit. Yep. That’s a big one.”

  Rachel didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to see the Enochians just up and leave. For one, the two were by far their strongest defense should Naga and the rest of the Kul decide to get brave and return sooner than later. But, more than that, they were their friends.

  “What about the others?” Rachel asked “Johnny and Franco? Phineas? James?”

  Real pain crept over both the Enochians’ faces.

  “We’ve all decided it’s best if they stay here,” Haldin said. “For now, at least.”

  “They can help this planet,” Elise said, wiping at what might’ve been an itch but Rachel suspected was the beginning of a tear. “Teach you lessons from Enochia. And we’re not really sure what we’re getting into out there anyway. Might not be any place for mortal humans to go flying blindly into.”

  “Shit,” Jarek repeated.

  “Shit,” Rachel agreed. “When?”

  Haldin looked back down at his empty plate. “Guess our last meal was cake.”

  “We could do worse,” Elise said, nudging him in the ribs.

  They stood with a heavy finality.

  “Stumpy?” Jarek said as Drogan turned to follow them.

  “I will remain on Earth,” Drogan said, though his eyes didn’t leave Elise. “For now.”

  “Oh, thank god,” Jarek sighed, patting at his chest. “No one wants to see a grown man cry right now.”

  Rachel was a little surprised to find how much the news relieved her as well.

  A somber silence seemed to follow them like a living thing as they padded out of the house with the Enochians. They said their last farewells on the front porch, in the fading light of the setting sun.

  As sad as it was to be saying goodbye, Rachel had a feeling it was nothing compared to what was going on in Drogan’s head.

  The raknoth stood close to Elise, looking like he wanted to touch her but was too stubborn to do so. Rachel could feel the telepathic flow between him and Lietha inside of Elise. Then Elise’s eyes went distant for a moment, and when she returned, Rachel got the impression Elise had ceded the driver’s seat over to her internal companion.

  Elise—or Lietha—leaned forward and pressed her forehead to Drogan’s.

  Drogan didn’t hug her—was probably convincing himself at that very moment that such gestures were too foolishly human for him to indulge in. But he did close his eyes and take a long, deep breath, as if absorbing every detail of her presence.

  Behind them, Haldin was pointedly looking out at the open sky, clearly trying to give them their moment.

  “We’ll meet again, Al’Drogan,” Elise said when they parted, laying a hand on his shoulder in a way that made Rachel think it was indeed Elise in control once more.

  Goddammit, it was sad to watch.

  “You know,” Jarek said when they were all set to leave, “I don’t think I ever actually thanked you two—you four, I mean—for saving our asses.”

  Haldin waved off his thanks. “I doubt we did anything you wouldn’t have. Besides, in the grand scheme of things, this has always been one long effort to keep our own planet safe. The path’s just turning out to be … a bit longer than expected.”

  “And maybe you’ll have your chance to repay us someday anyway,” Elise added with a wan smile.

  “You’ll know where to find us,” Jarek said.

  The Enochians nodded and turned to leave.

  They watched them go from the top of the porch steps, not speaking, each wrapped up in their own thoughts. Rachel could only assume there was at least a part of Drogan wishing he’d been the one to merge with Haldin in place of Alton Parker. It would have been perfect. Two lovers playing host to two raknoth who clearly shared some strong affinity for one ano
ther, whatever they wanted to call it.

  But life was a real bitch sometimes.

  She reached over and gave Drogan a comforting pat on the back—a gesture that would’ve been inconceivable less than a year ago.

  “So what do we do now?” She finally asked once the Enochians had boarded their ship and long since disappeared in the distance.

  “Drinks at Pryce’s,” Jarek said. “Many, many drinks at Pryce’s.”

  For once, that plan didn’t sound half bad.

  As she turned to go grab their stuff with Jarek, though, Drogan caught her wrist.

  He cocked his head. Sniffed the air.

  She watched him uncertainly, an odd feeling swirling in her stomach. Drogan almost never touched her.

  But now he was leaning in closer, sniffing again. He looked meaningfully down at her belly before meeting her eyes.

  Her stomach turned a loop through her chest.

  “Alcohol may be unwise.”

  Drogan’s words hit her like a throat punch.

  She tried to swallow—to breathe. Her mouth suddenly seemed too dry for either.

  “What?” Jarek asked the question screaming through her mind on repeat.

  He was watching them from the doorway with a confused expression.

  She couldn’t worry about that now, though. She was too busy plunging her senses inward, searching with frantic desperation for the flicker she was suddenly sure she’d find.

  She’d been due in a few days. Was it possible?

  “I must have missed it under the cover of all the chocolate inside, but …” Drogan sniffed the air again, checking to be certain.

  He needn’t have checked.

  There.

  She felt it there, right at the center of her. The tiniest flicker of life that was both part of her but also somehow distinct of its own.

  “Oh my god,” she heard herself murmur.

  The world spun around her. Drogan caught her before she even processed her knees had buckled.

  Her vision reoriented. Jarek was hovering above them, mouth agape, more stunned than she’d ever seen him.

  “It’s—She’s …” he stammered. “Is she—are you …?”

  She nodded weakly up at him, waiting for the realization to strike him. For his eyes to widen in horror as he turned tail and ran for it.

  He just stood there, mouth agape.

  Then he dropped to his knees and pulled her too him, taking her weight from Drogan’s arms. He was gasping—with laughs or sobs, she couldn’t really tell. He was squeezing her too hard.

  She squeezed back, too shocked to do anything else.

  Drogan, deciding his job was done, began to pull away to leave them to it. Jarek caught him by the front of his long coat and tugged him back down.

  “No way, Stumpy,” Jarek said, his voice thick. “This here’s a family group hug moment.”

  Drogan looked mildly alarmed. “I would prefer to let—”

  “Oh just hug us, you scaly a-hole,” Jarek said, pulling him in.

  With painstaking awkwardness, Drogan looped his arms around the two of them, somehow managing to barely touch either of them in the process until he gave them each a pair of uncertain pats on their backs.

  “There we go,” Jarek said. “One big happy family. I mean, kid’s gonna need a godfather, right?”

  Rachel and Drogan both recoiled at that.

  “Kidding, kidding.”

  Drogan retreated to the house with a grumpy huff after that.

  Rachel and Jarek remained wrapped in each other’s arms for some time. Her head was still reeling with the implications, which seemed to mushroom more and more extensively the more she thought about it. Jarek held her all the while, his arms firm and wonderfully warm.

  “You’re not scared?” Rachel finally asked.

  “Are you kidding me?” he asked through a chuckle. “I think I’m having a heart attack right now. But, I dunno. This feels … right, I guess.” A playful note crept into his tone. “I mean, if I have to be chained down to one person for the rest of my life …”

  She wiped away brimming tears and leaned back to take in his warm smile.

  “Such a way with words,” she muttered, though she couldn’t help but meet his smile. Her mood soon sobered, though. “And this doesn’t mean … I mean, you’re not …”

  What?

  Stuck? Obligated?

  Was that really how she thought of herself? As an obligation?

  “And what if I wanna be?” he whispered before she could decide, his eyes radiating tender care. “I don’t want anything else, Rachel. I just want—”

  She kissed him, and for a long while, they stayed there like that, tucked into each other against the growing chill of the evening.

  Finally, when darkness had fallen and the buzzing of both their comms was becoming too frequent to ignore, they gathered themselves and stood. Drogan joined them on the porch, triple chocolate cake in tow, and together, they set off for Pryce’s in the gathering darkness, ready to share their own little light with their new family.

  A Letter from the Author

  Oh boy.

  Where to even start?

  Well, I guess with the fact that the book—and The Harvesters Series—has indeed reached its end. And if that realization conjures in you a sudden and urgent need for a tissue, you’re not alone.

  It probably won’t surprise you to hear that I’m quite fond of this series. Go figure, right?

  But hey, it’s my first, and holy hoppin’ mountain goats, did I have a fun time writing it! The world I’ve fumbled through building… The delightfully strong and cheeky characters I’ve discovered along the way…

  It’s been a hell of a ride.

  And I don’t want to say goodbye.

  … So I probably won’t. Not yet at least.

  Exactly how I may or may not revisit Rachel and Jarek and their scrappy little crew remains to be seen. I’ve got ideas. Big ones. But nothing’s quite set in stone yet. Or, like, even in Jello.

  What I can tell you is that the next project on the list is a trilogy chronicling Haldin and Elise’s adventures back on Enochia. It’s gonna be a good time.

  In the meanwhile, I want to say thank you for reading this book and all the others before it. However you found my work, I’m so glad you have, and I hope that it’s brought you many hours of quality entertainment, and smiles as hefty as they were numerous.

  Without you, the reader… well, this would all be kind of silly, wouldn’t it?

  So thank you! Truly.

  I’ll be back in a few pages to make my acknowledgments and (spoiler alert!) to thank you some more.

  But first, allow me to attempt to bribe you to my mailing list with promises of free books and witty repartee…

  (And I guarantee I’ll deliver on at least ONE of those things.)

  See you on the other side.

  -Luke R. Mitchell

  Want some free books?

  Let’s not play games here.

  If you’ve made it this far in the series, you’ve probably already seen the previous offers for the free Harvesters Series prequels, Soldier of Charity and Cursed Blood.

  Well, if haven’t read ’em yet (and if you’re craving more Jarek and Rachel in your life), now’s the perfect time!

  Just sign up to my mailing list, and I’ll send your free copies of the prequel novellas, Soldier of Charity and the mailing list exclusive, Cursed Blood.

  On top of that, you’ll also get roughly biweekly doses of my roguish charm delivered straight to your inbox, and you’ll always be the first to know about my special deals, new releases, and fun little giveaways.

  So sign up to my mailing list, and let’s go on an adventure!

  Acknowledgments

  If you’ve taken a gander at the back matters throughout this series, you’ll know I’ve typically been a man of many acknowledgments. So much so that, quite frankly, if I’m to be honest with you, I’m running out of ways to express my g
ratitude to my team. Or maybe I’m just getting lazy.

  Okay, it’s totally the lazy thing.

  Even so! Let’s hit this thing cliff notes style.

  I love my wife. Wait no, my fiancé. Wait no, my wife. Look, I’m not sure exactly what date it is that you’re reading this. Suffice it to say, it’s pretty serious, and she’s been phenomenally supportive about me deciding to forgo a more traditional career path in favor of making things up, writing them down, and trying to convince perfectly random strangers to give me money for it.

  What was she thinking?

  And speaking of what the women in my life were thinking, I guess I’d better mention I love my mom, too. I’m still not sure why she decided not to let my dad snuff me out in the Spartan-esque agoge of my childhood (I kid. But only a little bit.), but my hat most certainly goes off to the both of them for giving me this life. Or would, if I ever wore a hat. You should ask my mom about that. Drives her bonkers.

  As for the rest of my friends and family, I hope it’s safe to say you all know I love you, even if I am hard to ferret out of the writing hole for more than the occasional brief spotting.

  To my ever-evolving and increasingly-well-oiled book machine team, I offer mad high-fives and copious thanks. Lisa continues to be the stalwart lighthouse to my oft-canting little story-ship. Clarissa and Prokopy continue to dazzle me with amazing book covers. I owe many thanks to my elite little ninja squad of beta readers, who gave me some great street-level insight that helped me tweak, sharpen, and otherwise massage this bad boy into fighting shape. And, as always, my beloved ARC crew once again came through with the amazing support that makes these books (and my feeble little author soul) sing.

  Thank you all so much for your work in helping me make this the best damn book I could!

  Lastly, I’d obviously be remiss (which I do believe is Latin for “a giant dick” … right?) if I didn’t give a twenty-one thank-you salute to my amazing readers at large. You people rock. (I told you I was running out of ways to say these things.) Seriously, though. It’s not an exaggeration to say you are what makes this all worth it. You know, both fiscally and otherwise… :-)

  I can’t thank you enough for supporting my work. And that goes double for those of you who are constantly bringing me much-needed laughs about flossing dragons and impromptu cookbooks. You know who you are. And if I haven’t made it clear—which, let’s be honest, I can be pretty sporadic with my correspondence at times—I really do appreciate you.