The Descendant: Baltin Trilogy (Book 1)

by Melissa Riddell

  My teeth unclench enough for me to open my jaw. “Okay, fine, you win, Kodiak. Happy?”

  When I spin around, he and Jareth stand behind, a few feet away.

  The dog’s perky ears tilt forward as if he’s reading my body language. When the realization dawns that I’m not going to leave, he lopes over and jumps on my waist.

  The force knocks me to the soft forest floor with a thump. “What the—?”

  His long, wet tongue covers every inch of my face and the muscles under his fur quiver with excitement.

  I grin despite my irritation. “You stupid dog.” Instead of being angry, I hug him closer. “I can’t believe you did me like that, and in front of him. Traitor.”

  My body, still flat on the ground, allows the moisture from morning dew to seep through my clothes. He jumps up and down on my chest, kissing me between blows. Wrestling with the big, goofy mutt still on top, a large laugh bursts from my mouth, and I can’t stop smiling. This dog may be a mess, but he’s my mess.

  “All I have to say”—Jareth steps closer and towers over the both of us—“Ya better not track mud in my humble abode or tear down my door again.” He holds back a laugh.

  His gaze drops to my mouth. The intensity of his stare causes my skin to prickle, and the laughter dies midstride on my lips.

  Warmth covers my cheeks. I bury my face in dog fur, hoping to hide the full flush of heat that spreads like an out of control wildfire from my neck to my forehead.

  Heaving Kodiak’s weight from my body, I stand and brush dirt, twigs, and the rest of nature from my clothing. Head bowed, I pick at a few of the leaf particles on my shirt. A sideways glance confirms Jareth’s attention follows my movements.

  Composure now in place, he raises a palm out to Kodiak.

  The dog lifts his paw.

  After they shake, Jareth pushes a hand against the pads of Kodiak’s foot. “Put it there, bud. Excellent job.”

  Incorrigible. He’s corrupting my dog—the louse.

  With a pang of guilt, I didn’t even know Kodiak could perform that trick. After he played dead in the gas station, the thought never crossed my mind he might know more tricks. What kind of dog parent am I?

  That crooked smile lands on Kodiak before it turns to me. “You know, Red, I’ve got tons of supplies at camp, more than I can handle.” His hands lace together in front of his body, and he flips them in a stretch. “I’ve been thinking about heading out anyway. Maybe—” He stops and scratches the short bristles on his chin.

  Oh please, no. Hell no. No way. I don’t think I can deal with his annoying, crazy, sexy ass. Please don’t ask what I think you’re about to ask.

  Our eyes meet before his stare slides over my shoulder to the backpack.

  “Would you like some company?”

  Again, that undertone of longing lying underneath the surface of his exterior floats to the top. A quiet resolve lurks in the set of his jaw. The intensity of his words sets butterflies careening in my gut.

  My hand raises to rub my temple. “Damn. I must’ve done something terrible in a past life to get this kind of karma.”

  That little inner voice speaks up. You know he intrigues you. Yeah, the kind of intrigue that causes moths to fly head-first into a candle flame. It would be nice to have someone to chat with. Come on, anyone but him, though. Look at him standing there. If he were any cockier, he’d be a rooster.

  “Well? How about it?”

  You know he’s not going to take no for an answer. He’ll follow you. Besides, you just admitted you don’t want to be alone.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve gone silent now?”

  He’s an annoying puzzle, which excites—and terrifies me.

  I groan. “God. Can you give me a damn minute to think?”

  He and Kodiak stare my way, both wearing stupid-ass grins. One face filled with hope, the other with longing and amusement.

  “I know a few shortcuts to Florida.” Brown eyes flecked with deep gold and yellow burn with eagerness. “Been there several times on business.”

  This bit of news piques my interest. “Before or after the invasion?” It would be nice having someone along who knows where they’re going, who could help Kodiak and me spot spheres—or worse—avoid another Abilene.

  I don’t give him time to answer. “I don’t know. You might slow me down.” It would also be practical to have another pair of eyes while we travel.

  Sure, if that’s how you want to justify it.

  My indecision wavers. Do I want to include another person—especially this guy—in my circle? It’s been Kodiak and me for weeks, and things have been great—well, besides having no food most of the time.

  Do we need a dog-snatcher in our party?

  You forgot to add gorgeous dog-snatcher.

  A devilish urge to string him along hits me, a little payback for last night.

  “Hmm. I still don’t know. We’re a bit rough around the edges for a pretty—” Well hell, I didn’t mean for that to slip out. “—a city boy like you.”

  Karma sucks.

  His legs shift, and his mouth opens. Pausing for a moment, he closes it and stays silent. What? He’s resisting the chance to point out my blunder. Is there hope for him?

  His head tilts, and a few more curls slip loose to slide along his jaw. That endearing grin forms and his face lights up.

  Wow. He must be serious about wanting to join Kodiak and me if he’s passing on such a ripe opportunity to point out my pretty boy slip. The self-control must be killing him.

  My eyes rove over the strong jaw and straight, proud nose, and then travel to his eyes. A quick detour sends my field of view to prominent cheekbones, they’re aristocratic—go figure.

  “Come on, Tilly.” He holds his hands out, palms up, in a pleading gesture. “Please?” A big-eyed toddler version of him jumps through water puddles in my thoughts.

  “What did you say?”

  Arms still held in an open gesture, he saunters closer. A brow arches. “Please, Tilly.” That irresistible dimple winks.

  My knees tremble. Who knew a dimple could be so dangerous?

  Inches away, his essence washes over me and threatens to drown my senses. How can someone smell so damn appealing without water for a shower? I can barely think straight.

  “I can be good when it suits me.” A wicked, erotic smile dances on his lips, in his eyes, and all over his face.

  I bite my inner lip. Focus. He’s still a dog-snatcher.

  “Come on.” He pats his newfound friend’s furry head. “What do ya say?”

  I should say hell no and run as far from this man as my feet will carry me.

  Kodiak leans into his leg as if melting like soft putty under his touch.

  I’m not the only one affected by his strange charm and sensual face.

  “Fine,” I mutter. “Let’s go to Florida. But you better behave and keep your damn hands, and comments, to yourself. Plus—”

  He bows at the waist, his hand swirling in a mocking motion. “As milady wishes.”

  “Stop calling me Red.”

  “Oh, come on. You know you like it.”

  I shoot a seething eat shit and die glare. “I like it about as much as you’d like my foot up your ass.”

  He straightens and assumes a serious expression, but his lips quiver with unspoken laughter. “Besides, it fits you—it’s your color. When you get embarrassed, your face turns as red as those highlights in your hair.”

  “Oh, God,” I say more to myself. “This is going to be the longest trip ever.”

  Chapter Seven

  Massive, shady oak trees hang over the path to the cave. Not a single leaf blows. Something about the stillness in the air feels off. When I left the cave, the birds were chirping, and a slight breeze ruffled the grass and branches. But now, all is quiet—too quiet. There’s a strange vibration in the air, as if a buildup of electricity is about to pull the hair on my head straight into the air. The feeling of eyes following me sends a tingle
across my skin.

  Jareth walks alongside, to my left, and Kodiak plods between both of us.

  The sun’s position, higher now than at dawn, indicates it’s somewhere around noon. Golden light filters through small gaps in the foliage above. Even with the bright light of day, I can’t dispel that eerie feeling of eyes crawling over my body.

  My gaze wanders to the cave. The entrance, hidden well from prying eyes, offers a safe-haven from the external elements of the new normal. Wild vines and briar cover the sides, and Jareth’s awful door camouflages the entrance.

  The door.

  It’s completely open, not halfway, like moments before.

  Brows drawn in concentration, a warning tickles my brain.

  What am I forgetting? My arm shoots out in warning to take things slow.

  Jareth stops beside me, tilting his head as if to listen—the motion makes me think of Kodiak.

  Through the open door, rusted silver chains glint on the floor.

  “Oh, shit.” I hold his gaze for a millisecond, wondering if we share the same thought: a pile of chains minus their past occupant equates to trouble—a woe neither of us need.

  My eyes widen. “We’re idiots.” The words come out in a hiss.

  “Shh.” Jareth’s mouth tightens, and his eyes move over the cave and foliage.

  Scanning the area in horror, I try to locate the former prisoner.

  The weight of my shotgun resting behind me offers a sliver of bravery. “Where’d the bastard go?” At this point, I’m not sure if I’m seeking a response from my fuzzy companion, Jareth, or myself.

  “You will escort me to the nearest hub.” A cold, monotone voice breaks the tension. “Connection must be re-established to the network.” There’s a slight electronic pitch to the words as if they’re spoken using an old microphone from the forties.

  Every hair on my body stands at attention.

  Not moving my head, I cut my gaze to the side, at Jareth, who’s arm brushes my shoulder.

  He shrugs, as if he also doesn’t know what to do.

  Unsure or uncaring. I bet the dude thinks he can charm his way out of this situation. He follows the movement of my hand when I it creeps toward my shotgun.

  “Wait,” he breathes.

  I furrow my brow and shake my head a fraction of an inch. We don’t have time. That alien asshole is dangerous and has already shown he’ll kill on sight.

  “Follow my lead.” His breath blows next to my ear.

  In a slow, smooth pivot, he turns to the voice, both hands overhead in surrender.

  “What are you doing, idiot?”

  He ignores me.

  Kodiak bares his teeth at the alien. A low growl issues from his muzzle, and sharp canines glint with saliva.

  “Hey, man. We’re peaceful.” Jareth keeps his voice soothing as if speaking to a child. “No one needs to get hurt.”

  Unwilling to let him be a self-sacrificing fool, I swing around, too. At least it’ll give me a clear line of sight to shoot.

  The alien tilts his head at Jareth’s words. Though there are no facial features showing, I imagine a questioning view underneath the helmet, on whatever serves as its face.

  Staring at the void that isn’t a face sends a shiver racing throughout my spine. An angry throb pulses in my head. The memory of what he did to my dog the night before replays, igniting a new wave of anger.

  The humanoid’s strange voice breaks the silence. “I am disconnected from the network.” The monotonic drone, devoid of any emotion, shoots dread into the pit of my stomach. “It is imperative to establish a connection to determine protocol. Your assistance is required.”

  “You fucking kidding me?” Seriously? Assistance? “This thing is asking for help?”

  “Sounds like it.”

  “After his race killed billions of people, including my family?” Waves of fury cause my limbs to shake. Acidic juice rises in my throat. “What the fuck?” The nerve of this destroyer asking for help sends me spiraling to the edge of my bullshit threshold.

  Trying to reign in the red wall of anger proves futile. Adrenaline and fury force me to push the shotgun from its holster. The end of the Remington stabs toward the black helmet.

  “You son of a bitch. You want mercy when you’ve shown none to our world, turned it into a graveyard?” The weapon shakes, making it tough to keep the hairs of the steel sight in focus. “You tried to kill my dog and me last night.” A sheen of sweat coats my palms. “What makes you think you deserve any help or mercy from anyone?”

  Kodiak, haunches raised, moves closer to my side, giving his input in bursts of short snarls. The bristles of his neck stand at attention, like a spiked collar.

  A dangerous smile pulls at my lips. “I’m gonna blow your goddamn head off.” The end of the barrel dips up and down, punctuating each word that leaves my mouth. “How’s that for help?” My finger twitches on the trigger.

  Even though I know the gunshot didn’t do much damage yesterday, the insatiable urge—no, the need—compels my finger to exert more pressure on the trigger. I savor an image in my mind of his dark head exploding into dust, fragments of the helmet shooting higher than the trees. The pleasure from this daydream accelerates my breathing.

  His head pivots in my direction, like an owl—or the chick from The Exorcist.

  I know he can shoot electricity from his fingers and kill me on the spot, but I don’t care. The idea that he would expect me—a human—to roll over and let him issue commands feeds a red-hot spark of anger until it becomes a raging inferno. My vision clouds and all I can see is destruction and death. In this moment, all I want is pure vengeance.

  The passage of time slows. I squeeze my left eye shut and sight the barrel in line with the smooth, dark head. The outrage that roils through my blood gives me strength and steadies my arms.

  The call of carefree birds disappears. Sounds of my heavy breathing and Kodiak’s growls disturb the forest’s peace.

  A shiny black dung beetle near the alien’s feet crawls on the ground, trundling under and over yellow leaves and grass. Intent on reaching its destination, the insect is unaware of the humanoid plight above him.

  “Red.” Jareth jumps between the shotgun and the alien. “Stop.”

  “What are you doing, you idiot?” In reaction, my index finger relaxes on the trigger but doesn’t release it completely.

  He turns to me, hands held up. The end of the shotgun barrel now lines up with his chest, mere inches away.

  “It hasn’t hurt us. We know it’s damaged and not hooked up to a network. What if the thing can’t do anything without it?” He raises his dark eyebrows and puts a steady hand on the gun. “Come on, let’s talk to it. Might be our only chance to find out what they want.”

  Clenching my teeth, I motion with the barrel. “Get out of the way, Jareth. It’s a monster. I’m not sitting on my ass any longer, not while the world—the rest of humanity—suffers from the consequences of what it’s done—they’ve done.” Hot tears pool at the corners of my eyes, and that unquenchable fire rages in my soul.

  “I know how you feel, believe me, I do.” He moves a little closer, the barrel now touching his chest.

  My eyes flick from him to the killer who stands behind his shoulder.

  Jareth’s arm stretches along the barrel, half an inch from my hand—and the trigger. “I lost people, too, but wouldn’t it be worth humoring it for a little while to get some answers, form a plan?” His face, now open and serious for once, bores a hole into my brain. Those black-brown eyes compete with my green—conveying a message meant for me alone.

  My bottom jaw grinds from side to side. I try to understand the unspoken message. He means we might find a weak spot to infiltrate the aliens, or at least do some damage.

  Opening my mouth, I run my tongue over the top of my teeth and try to think. As much as I hate the enemy, Jareth could be right. The chance to kill some of these guys, or even better—determine what their ultimate goal is—might be
worth sparing its miserable life for the moment.

  The incessant need for vengeance continues to burn a dark, deep hole in my heart. How can I stand to let this thing live, knowing what it’s done?

  Jareth pushes the short barrel of the gun lower, away from his chest. He steps close and cups the side of my face with a delicate touch. The gesture is both comforting and distracting.

  “Stop that, damn it.”

  I want to drop the weapon and push his arm away. At the same time, I don’t want him to let go. His pupils dilate, and the brown of his irises disappear. He’s drowning me into their depths.

  That forceful gaze doesn’t move when he removes his hand from my face and whispers, “Do you trust me?”

  Trust him? “I don’t even know you.” Does he have any idea what he’s asking me to do?

  I shoot a glance over Jareth’s shoulder to the black-clad asshat.

  “It’s watching us, I know it is because I can feel its eyes—or whatever it has—roaming over my skin.” That faceless void of black stares back. “What if it’s learning from us?” The humanoid cocks his head at the rise and fall of my speech. “Could be listening to our conversation for all I know, getting ready to fry our asses while we sit here and dick around.”

  How do I know I can have faith in Jareth? What if he’s like that other guy, from before?

  But he’s not, and you know it. He doesn’t exactly exude kindness and benevolence, either. I must admit he’s done nothing—other than run his disgusting, pretty mouth, and swagger around like a king—to put us in any danger.

  Plus, Kodiak is smitten with him. I’ll also try to put some belief into his character, too, and see beyond the insufferable attitude he projects.

  Holding in a sigh, I lower the gun to the ground and agree with the hare-brained idea he proposes. “I don’t like it, but I guess we can try it your way.” At least until it gives me a reason to shoot its ass.

  We can interrogate it and learn more about Earth’s invaders. Who knows what kind of valuable information he holds? The knowledge could even lead to a weakness I can exploit for future use. These thoughts don’t give comfort, though. Even letting the thing live for an hour or two longer makes me feel like I’m standing next to a ticking time bomb.