The Descendant: Baltin Trilogy (Book 1)

by Melissa Riddell

  The frustration by this hopeless situation causes a tightness at the back of my throat like a vice. I can’t blast the alien with the shotgun at this range.

  I need to find a way to get him to release Kodiak before I shoot.

  The alien turns his head back to his captive.

  With his attention now distracted, I put all the force I can muster and slam the butt of my gun against the side of the helmet.

  A dull thud rings in the air, and his hand spasms, releasing Kodiak, who falls to the ground.

  Unable to take my attention from the alien, I can’t stop to see what condition the dog is in.

  The helmeted head swings in my direction and swallows the rays of sunlight shining from above. A leg bends at the knee, and the silver threads in the black material sparkle in direct contrast to the helmet.

  All thumbs, I fumble at the shotgun. My arms try to lift it into position.

  This is a perfect shot, don’t flake.

  Seeing that empty face approaching, now no more than three feet away, causes my bladder to clench. Fear sits on my chest and threatens to freeze me in place, but I force my legs to move.

  Unable to see what’s behind me, my foot stumbles on a rock, or a hole, or something, and my body begins to sway backward.

  A hand shoots out. It feels like bands of steel wrapped around my windpipe. With no effort, he lifts my feet from the ground. His other hand flexes twice, and the movement causes another spike of terror to slam into me.

  I know what’s about to happen, and I’m powerless to stop it. Fingernails grasp at the hand that chokes my air supply.

  His nonexistent face greets me as consciousness begins to slip. My view is as empty as my attempt to kill this thing. Has it all been for nothing?

  I’m able to croak a single word. “Please.”

  The crushing force causes dark spots to dance in my vision. My nails tear at the alien’s hands, desperate to inflict pain, to free myself.

  Out of the corner of my eye, Kodiak readies himself for a lunge at the alien.

  At least he’s okay for now.

  Words form on my lips, but nothing escapes. I want to tell Kodiak to run, but everything fades, and I fall into a pit of blackness that stretches forever.

  Chapter Four

  Millions of luminescent globes dot the night and shine from high above. My eyelids flutter shut, and I fight through the haze in my skull. Forcing the lids open once again, a stunning view of the Milky Way streaks across the sky, with dust and gasses swirling amongst the endless stars.

  Without artificial light and toxins polluting the skies, the velvet night offers a beautiful panorama. Reaching a thumb and forefinger to the sky, I trace the outline of the Big Dipper.

  My head pounds. I try to remember where I’m at—what I was doing.

  Kodiak’s fur tickles the palm of my other hand. He shifts, letting me know he’s right by my side. Rolling over onto my thigh, I sit and hold my aching head in my hands. The world spins, shooting lights streaking across my vision.

  “Jesus Christ, what happened? It feels like someone hit me over the head with a baseball bat.”

  “Whoa.” A deep, male voice breaks the silence. “You better take it easy.”

  My head snaps in the direction of the spoken words. A silhouette emerges. Though I haven’t thought about that night in Abilene for weeks, terror grips my heart. He’s come back to finish what he’s started.

  Kodiak’s wet nose nudges my hand. The gesture brings me back into the moment. My talisman. Courage stiffens my muscles.

  The memory of the fight with the alien blooms in my head, and I reach for the shotgun. Unable to feel it at my back, a hand grasps the pistol in my waistband instead. Cocking the weapon, I aim it at the shadowy form.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  The silhouette speaks with alarm. “Now hold on there, Annie Oakley. Don’t shoot. I’m not the bad guy”—an arm points in a vague direction—“he’s over there.”

  Glancing in the area his head dips, I see the faint outline of a humanoid figure lying on the ground. A soft sparkle of metal clothing glints under the muted light of the moon and stars.

  My gun points at the stranger. Without any memory of what happened or what this guy’s motives are, my nerve endings are on high alert. I’m a taut string waiting for release.

  “Who are you?” Placing a hand onto the ground, I stand and fight an unpleasant bout of nausea.

  He continues to sit on the ground. “Jareth,” he pauses for a fraction of a second, “Grant.” The fingers of his hands move about under the dim light when he speaks. “Watch where you’re pointing that thing. I already took care of him.” The outline of his head swivels back to the unmoving alien.

  Circling over to the immobile body, but still holding the man at gunpoint, I mull over his words. “What happened?” My voice is cold, curt; I can’t help it. Seeing the dead body on the ground causes an irresistible violent urge to rise inside me.

  A dull thud echoes through the body from the contact of my foot smashing into its skin.

  Yep, dead. I cackle with glee but clamp my lips shut when the maniacal laughter seeps out.

  Should I give the corpse another kick for the hell of it? Throwing my foot even farther back for more impact, it lands somewhere near his ribs. The sound is music to my ears.

  “That kick was for my dog. Eeny, meeny, miny, mo, bitch!”

  “Uh, you shouldn’t do that. I’m not sure he’s dead, but knocked out or something.”

  “And, your point?”

  The gun wanders back in the direction of his voice. Even though the moon is bright, his features are still a mystery.

  “My point being, you should let sleeping dogs—and aliens—lie.” There’s a hint of haughtiness to his words.

  I must admit—it’s a good point. “Yeah? Well, what makes you such an expert?”

  “The fact I wasn’t stupid enough to let it catch me.”

  Damn, another good point. Wait, did he call me stupid? This guy is starting to annoy me. “What were you doing around here, anyway?”

  His hands lace together, and he moves them to cradle the back of his head. The crooks of his elbows angle out like wings in the dark. “I was camping nearby and heard the gunshot. Curiosity spurred me to come and see what was going on.”

  Those arms unlace and move to his lap. “I came up behind while you were tangoing with your buddy over yonder. Well, it was more like he was wiping the floor with your limp body. Anyhow, I digress. While you were playing a game of pass out, I smacked him on the head. The rest is history, as they say.”

  “Used to say,” I amend.

  Keeping my gun at the ready, I stride closer to the guy who calls himself Jareth. Curiosity wars with mistrust at the tension of being so close to another person, another male. Soft light bounces from his eyes when he moves his head toward the moon. His body lies under the shroud of night; a blanket of anonymity—and danger.

  “Why’d you come to help me?” I can’t trust his motives. It’s rare for anyone to risk helping their fellow man since the most important rule now is to survive, whatever the cost. Remember what happened the last time you trusted someone?

  For what reason would anyone help me, unless they wanted something in return? There’s no benevolence anymore. Fear, greed, and hate are the gods of this dying world.

  He doesn’t answer my question for a few seconds, and I wonder if he’s going to ignore me. “I thought about leaving you to your fate—” If I didn’t know better, it sounds like there’s a smile in his words. “But then your dog practically begged me to help.”

  “Wow”—humanity’s crème de la crème on its finest display right here—“such a gentleman.”

  Pebbles scrape across the ground when he shifts his legs. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

  I’m welcome? How do I even know he came to our rescue? When my gun hit the side of the alien’s head, he sure didn’t go down. So, how’d this guy
manage it?

  He got lucky, because I already weakened the thing with the first blow to the helmet. More likely than not, when this jackass heard the shotgun blasts, he came to rob me—or worse.

  Clenching my left fist to my side, the other hand waves the gun around in his general direction. “You want me to thank you after admitting you didn’t want to help?”

  “Yeah, well, I have a soft spot for animals.”

  “Douche.” The word trails out as a whisper before I can reign it in.

  A small chuckle floats in my direction.

  The silhouette of Kodiak’s head bounces from me to Jareth. The idea of my dog not picking up any dangerous vibes from this person is irritating—but also a good sign. Animals sense people’s true nature most of the time. But, still—I don’t trust him—and he’s an arrogant pig.

  The deep voice rings out. “So, you gonna point the gun at me all night?” His hand motions to the incapacitated form. “Or can we figure out what we’re going to do with him?”

  “There’s no we.” It’s not that I’m ungrateful for his help—well, okay, a tad bit—but Kodiak and I have been doing fine without anyone else. Besides, the thought of interacting with this cocky jerk sets my teeth on edge.

  Squaring my shoulders in preparation for battle, even if it’s the verbal kind, I try not to think about the meat cleaver pounding inside my brain. “There’s Kodiak and me, and then there’s you, heading on out down the road. Buh-bye.”

  Stay aloof, Tilly, don’t trust him. Everyone’s out for themselves.

  Why couldn’t I have come across a decent, nice person? Is that too much to ask for? I’m not sure he’s as bad as that creep in Abilene, but still—he’s an ass.

  Another rich, dark chuckle breaks the silence.

  His deep laugh slides under my skin like tiny needles. My words were supposed to make him angry, not put him in a good mood. To make matters worse, it’s one of those chuckles one can’t help but reciprocate, even if the joke sucks. If I were in a better mood, I could easily see myself smiling in return. This thought pisses me off even more because I don’t want to like anything about him.

  “Well, since I’ve already gone this far out of my way, I think I’ll stick around. Entertainment around here has been”—there’s a long, drawn out pause as if he’s scrambling for his next word—“lacking.”

  Arm beginning to tire, I drop the gun to my side for fear I’ll shoot him out of spite.

  “You’re disgusting. Out of all the people left in the world—” I stop, deciding not to finish my sentence aloud. How do I keep meeting assholes?

  I ignore him, because if I’m quiet long enough, the entertainment factor will lose its value, and he’ll get bored and leave. My face lifts to the sky and my lungs breathe in the clean night air. One thing about the world now, the air always smells new.

  My eyes cut back to his general direction, hoping he decides to hit the road.

  Fat chance of that happening, though, because he turns to my mutt. “So, now I know your name, boy. Kodiak, huh? That’s a good, strong name, like a Kodiak bear.”

  The dog’s shadow trots over to the complimenting man to receive a head scratch.

  Hey, what’s going on, you damned, traitorous dog. The trust my canine companion bestows to this stranger makes me stand straighter. How can Kodiak not see what an asshole looks like, when he’s sitting right there in front of him?

  Vow of silence flies away in the face of this new turn of events. I sniff. “No, his name’s from a can of snuff.”

  There’s a pause, then Jareth laughs even louder than before.

  Surely losing tooth enamel from the grinding of my teeth, I unclench my jaw. If I hear one more chuckle, I’m going to scream. He’s not supposed to be amused—he’s supposed to be offended and take a hike.

  Slapping my left hand on my thigh, imagining it as Jareth’s face, my other hand stuffs the pistol back into the band of my jeans. My feet take me over to the dog. Jealousy and possessiveness spur me to wrap myself around his furry neck.

  This pompous man befriending my dog bothers me deep down inside. I don’t begrudge Kodiak because it’s not his fault—he doesn’t know better. It’s this one human trying to con his way into our circle of two that causes ugly anger to rise within.

  But this loathsome jackass did save you—and the dog. Yeah, yeah, I know.

  I hold onto Kodiak’s neck and breathe into his fur. Relief washes over me knowing the dog is whole and unharmed. “Oh, Kodiak, you scared the hell out of me. Why didn’t you let go? That alien creep was going to kill you.”

  Wet doggie tongue licks my face, and I can’t help but smile. Sometimes, dogs make everything better.

  “Ya big goober.” I feel around his ears and scratch his favorite spot. One hind leg kicks the ground in pleasure. Thump—thump—thump.

  Wiping the drool from my face, I walk over to the alien and wish the sun was out to see the body better. It was still daylight when I battled this guy. How long was I unconscious?

  Guess there’s one way to know for sure. Swallowing back a little pride, I clear my throat. “How long was I out?”

  “An hour. You hit your head on the pavement. I couldn’t find a wound, but you might have a minor concussion.”

  So, he put his hands on me and didn’t take advantage of the situation? If he did do what he says, then his actions have put me in his debt. The idea tastes like swallowing a spoonful of medicine—a vile, repugnant dose mixed with artichokes.

  I run my fingers through my hair, focusing on the area that causes the most pain. Yep, there’s a lump. It’s not too large, half the size of an egg, but at least my skin’s intact.

  Jeez, I am in this guy’s debt. “I guess I should thank you.” My mouth forces the gruff words between my lips.

  The toe of my boot pokes at the alien’s body, fascination and loathing spurring my foot to investigate the body one more time.

  I can feel Jareth’s eyes on my skin, like standing naked before someone, even though it’s dark.

  What does he look like? This thought wanders into my head. Who cares with that attitude? Still, curiosity tugs at me.

  “I suppose you should.” Amusement tinges his every word.

  His teasing voice makes me want to say something sarcastic and witty. I count to ten.

  “So, thanks, I guess.” My right shoulder raises in a shrug. I can’t help it. I’m now the rude ass, but this guy’s demeanor is irksome.

  “You’re welcome.” His tongue clicks the roof of his mouth in a tut-tut gesture. “There now, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  Unable to repress the irritation and anger any longer, I turn from the alien to face his general direction. “You know, I’m not asking you to stay, so you’re welcome to prance your arrogant ass on down the road. We don’t need you.”

  Shifting closer to Kodiak, my hand strokes the dog’s fur in comfort and for reinforcement. “I thanked you for your help, so I don’t know what more you need. If you want payment, take it from my pack. Just leave the guns and ammo.” There, problem solved, debt repaid.

  Blessedly, he’s silent. I’m already missing the peace Kodiak and I share and will be happy to see his bothersome backside fade off into the distance.

  “I didn’t put my neck out to save you for a”—the confident swagger of his voice drops, and he gulps an audible swallow—“reward.” Underneath the words, there’s some emotion—either pain or anger, but without knowing him, it’s difficult to tell. “If you don’t want my help, fine. Better luck next time one of those guys comes calling. I have better things to do than sit around and babysit a spoiled brat all night.”

  Loud laughter bursts from my throat. “Seriously? You’re calling me a spoiled brat? I’m not the one who feels the need to insult someone they met with every other word that comes out of their mouth. I’m not the one with a stick up my ass. You act like you’re a king who’s inconvenienced by having to do something nice, something moral.”

  With
out a word, his dim shadow moves around and packs whatever it is he brought. Good—good riddance to you, auf Wiedersehen.

  Standing, he steps within two feet of my body, and I fight an urge to back down. Feeling threatened, the palm of my hand brushes the little pistol at my side, ready to whip it out if needed.

  His breath is warm and close when he speaks. “I’m normally not kind, and now I remember why.”

  The undertone of menace causes my arms to prickle.

  Tall frame turning, he heads down the road, footfalls fainter with each weighty step.

  Realizing I’ve been holding my breath, I let it out and suck in the humid air. Kodiak and I are fine on our own.

  His words come back to haunt me. I’m normally not kind, and now I remember why.

  Kodiak lets out a mournful whine.

  “Shh, boy, it’s fine. We’re fine.” But are we? We almost died at the hands of that alien. The thought is sobering. If Jareth hadn’t come along, it would be our bodies lying on the road instead.

  I groan inside. No, Tilly, don’t do it. Keep your mouth shut. You don’t know anything about the dude. He could be a stark-raving mad psycho. Except a psycho wouldn’t have sat around to make sure I was okay. Guilt washes over me.

  My mouth opens. “Stop.”

  The receding footsteps cease, but don’t come any closer.

  Since I can’t see his face, I imagine he’s facing my direction. “I’m sorry.” The words leave a bitter taste. “Come back. It’s too dark to be traveling alone, especially if there are any more pods—aliens—whatever flying around.”

  I motion a hand toward my dog’s shadow. “Kodiak and I need to camp somewhere not out in the open and drag that damn body with us. I don’t feel comfortable leaving it out here, wondering if he’ll come back to life and track us down.”

  This is the most cordial I’ve been since my eyes opened, and I at once wonder if it’s too late to take it back.

  His advancing form approaches.

  I take a few steps back and reach for my pistol, unsure of his intentions.

  “Apology accepted.” There’s a rasp of sound when his fingers touch his face and scratch at his jaw.