The Descendant: Baltin Trilogy (Book 1)

by Melissa Riddell

“Red—”

  I don’t want to hear it, whatever it is. “Just shut up and kiss me, Jareth.” I pull his head to mine, eager for the comfort of his touch. And in the throes of passion—I don’t care about his past, what he lost or did to get by. Whatever he wants to tell me, it can wait. All that matters is who he is now, not who he became when the world went away.

  The clean, fresh scent that always emanates from his body fills the night air. His arms wrap around my back as if he never wants to let go.

  I revel in his arms, wondering why it’s taken me so long to give in. This is where I’m meant to be—have always meant to be.

  Our bodies twine, breaths shallow and hot. When the air leaves his lungs, it enters me, and when I exhale, he takes it in.

  Just like the night before, when he gave me the gift of song and music, I never want this moment to end. Wrapped in his protective arms, I want to stay with him forever.

  A sound intrudes on my thoughts.

  In annoyance, I banish it to the back of my mind.

  It sounds again, or rather Sparky speaks in a quick tone, but I block out the words.

  Find some firewood or play in the thicket for a while, I think to myself. Better yet, step into a pond and electrocute yourself.

  I flap a hand in his general direction. “Get lost, dude.”

  Kodiak, barking, jumps and throws his paws on my butt.

  “Damn it to hell.” I pull away from Jareth, who’s face still shows bliss, eyes closed and mouth smiling. “Not now, Kodiak—I’m a little busy here.” If it’s not the robot trying to ruin a romantic moment, then it’s the damned dog.

  It’s bad enough metal head shows no boundaries and sees fit to interfere, but now, my furry companion feels inclined to join him in operation interrupt kiss time.

  “Of all the rude, inconsiderate”—a sound whispers through the air, making me shiver—“What the fuck is that?”

  Jareth, coming to his senses, snaps out of a lusty daze and scans the sky.

  “Not now.” He pulls back, holding me at arm’s length. “I’m sorry.”

  A dreadful zing soars overhead.

  In the blink of an eye, three dark spheres—barely discernible from the night sky—surround my body and his. Weightless, I slingshot upward then hover ten feet in the air.

  “Jareth—”

  The first rule of my mantra has been to survive; how have I forgotten in the span of a few days?

  I reach for the weapon in the sling, but the pods react faster than my human body.

  A blur of light blinds me, followed by a boom.

  “What was that?” I don’t even see where the strikes land.

  White light comes from everywhere. A red heat stabs into my shoulder, another through my stomach, and then my leg. There’s a snapping noise from my thigh. Blazing pain shoots into my hip, and I can’t breathe. The pain is a live animal, devouring me with teeth of metal.

  I scream, but no sound leaves my mouth.

  Unable to process what’s happening, my brain only allows glimpses to flash before my eyes. My field of vision changes from the wheat landscape to a blanket of night with distant, flickering lights.

  The dark sky swirls with a wide band of the luminescent Milky Way, and the stars blink like the thoughts in my head.

  Each beat of my heart sends a searing pain racing through my limbs and pulsing the length of my body. The excruciating discomfort is like a million sparks of electricity burning holes into skin.

  Images parade themselves through my mind, crowding in on each other: my sister’s cheerful grin; Mom’s comforting hand; Dad’s stern advice. Next to follow are scenes of Kodiak dropping loot at my feet, licking my toes clean, and teeth showing with his grin.

  The first night I met Jareth—how much he irritated and intrigued me, then unable to bear being away from him, tumble through my thoughts. Sparky changing from a killer to something else, something a little closer to human, or so I hope. And now they’ll soon be gone, just like me.

  I’ve never experienced physical pain like this, and it mixes with the agony of knowing I’m about to lose the very ones I’ve recently found.

  Please, let death come swift. A quick departure sounds good about now.

  Dark eyebrows pinch together. Jareth’s self-assured face, now a mask of horror and distress, mouths something unintelligible.

  He grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me. “Oh God, hang on—stay with me.” His urgent tone breaks through the white, static nose. “Don’t you dare give up, Red.”

  Hang on for what? This is the end. The singular moment when the aliens catch up.

  And now, they’ll do what they do best: kill humans.

  But I can’t speak. Not only is my brain unresponsive to my commands, but the pain has every muscle in my body tense and clenching.

  Behind Jareth, my beloved, brave, stupid dog snarls and jumps into the air to catch the spheres. They no longer shoot; but hover as if we’re cattle waiting for the chute.

  I glance at Jareth one last time. Even though I’ve known him for just a handful of days, it’s been a lifetime—no, multiple existences—as if he owns the other half of my soul. Each past death, a chance for rebirth, so I can find my way back to him, despite the odds.

  There are things I should’ve said, truths I didn’t want to admit, but now my heart fills with sorrow realizing I’ll never get the chance.

  My sister’s face swims up. I’m sorry, Sissy. I failed.

  Knowing these are my last few seconds on earth, I worry these people—who have come to mean so much to me—won’t escape the same fate. My eyelids slip, but I force them open and concentrate on Jareth’s face.

  “Run. You have to”—I scream the words, but they have no audible tone to them—“get out of here. Don’t follow me. Please. I’m sorry.”

  I gaze into his eyes and try to put every emotion I’ve had into one last look—letting him know how much he means to me.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Light surrounds me, flows through me, caresses me.

  There’s a conversation occurring in the distance, but whiteness envelops my body.

  A female voice rises above the light. “Why did you bring her here?”

  “Why do you think?” The masculine response is stiff and harsh. “Now, heal her if you want your precious plan back in motion.”

  “Fine, but you’ll accept the consequences—for this and for what happens thereafter. No more running and hiding, Jareth Averon. You’ll embrace your future and carry out your duties.”

  There’s a slight pause before the deeper voice answers. “I’ll do whatever it takes.” He draws closer, a slight darkening of the brightness, but the image is out of focus. “Tilly, hang in there, okay?”

  Sounding disgusted, the female voice floats opposite of his presence. “What would Jalinda think if she were here?”

  “Well, she isn’t, now is she?” His words, short and clipped, carries traces of anguish and rage mixed with something different, primal even.

  Silence falls, leaving me to float weightless with my thoughts.

  One of those names was familiar, but every time I concentrate on the conversation, it slips through my mind like a wisp of smoke.

  I continue to drift amongst faint beeps. Other voices beat a steady cadence in my ears, the language indecipherable.

  Either minutes or days pass, it’s hard to tell. My eyes flutter open to find two rows of whitish-blue lights overhead. The fog in my brain lifts, and I smack dry lips, trying to find moisture in my parched mouth.

  Wait. I’m alive. How is this possible?

  The last thing I remember is my thigh cracking from laser fire and seeing Jareth’s agonized face. The paralyzing pain, a million tiny fires coursing through my veins, is gone.

  Am I dead?

  Recalling the white light, I flex my hands and raise to a sitting position.

  I’m in a small, rectangular room. The main wall is a large pane of glass.

  Through the clear ba
rrier, on the opposite side, a small console sits in the middle of the floor. The lit surface, a touchscreen, displays odd writing and complicated mathematical-like formulas.

  Across from the control pad, in a triangular pattern, are two more rooms complete with duplicate glass walls. They look identical to the one I’m in and remind me of zoo exhibits.

  Come one. Come all, my imagination takes over. Come see the scrawny human with red hair. She’s one of a kind. The monkey in the cage.

  Carefully, I inspect my body for damage. No holes, no blood, no torment. Confusion clouds my brain. That pain was the worst I’d ever experienced.

  How can I have no injuries?

  Rising from the small, upraised cot attached to the wall, I walk to the floor-to-ceiling glass barrier.

  Where are my friends?

  The walls outside the room are the same dull, metallic blue as the ones in here.

  Ambient lighting radiates along the length of the floor and where the ceiling and walls join.

  It’s quiet—too quiet.

  With a clenched fist, I bang on the glass. The material is thick because my thumping produces little sound.

  “Hey—let me out.”

  Did Jareth, Kodiak, and Sparky elude the spheres? If so, where are they, and how am I alive? Why am I still breathing?

  “Anyone there?”

  I move to the farthest corner where the glass and wall meet to look for a door in the outer room but can’t see anything besides another smooth wall. After a few more minutes of fruitless banging, I give up.

  Looking down in wonder, I take in my whole, not-dead frame again, and something hits me. I’m no longer wearing my regular clothes. Instead, a dark gray body suit covers it from head to toe. A tiny red zipper hides in a seam starting at my right wrist and runs the entire length of the material to the outside of my right ankle.

  My fingers rub the cloth, it’s smooth, soft to the touch even. Seconds pass and then I see my nails are pristine—not a speck of dirt. After Jareth dunked me in the creek, some of the dirt came off, but not all. Now, I look as clean as I did before the EMP, when electricity was the pinnacle of man’s achievements.

  Electricity.

  Jerking my head, I stare at the lit room with shock.

  “How can there be working lights?”

  Such a simple convenience now has the power to make me feel like a Neanderthal seeing her first motorized car.

  Jaw still hanging open at the genius of electric lighting, a soft swoosh vibrates through the room. The hair on my arms and nape stand on end.

  What the fuck? How am I sitting here, under electric light, without a scratch on my body?

  A trickle of fear slides under my skin, like a sidewinding snake.

  I close my mouth and peer in the direction of the sound. “Hello?”

  Two women walk into view then turn to stand before me. The glass barrier separates the space between me and them.

  One woman is taller with short-cropped blonde hair. On her trim figure, she wears a long, navy overcoat. It looks formal and serious.

  The coat hangs to the floor and splits at the hips, allowing black trousers to peek through. The mandarin collar has tiny, intricate silver designs that flow the length of narrow lapels.

  She appears to be in her forties if guessing, but there’s no way to know for sure, and the fortyish estimate could as easily be a thirtyish age. Her alabaster skin has a smoothness I’m not sure is natural, with a face that’s regal and cold. Eyes tilt at the outer corners, and her dark, yellow irises glow like amber jewels.

  The strange gaze appraises me with icy detachment as if I’m something she wants to scrape from the bottom of a shoe or dissect in a dish.

  The woman standing to the right of the blonde offers a sharp contrast.

  She’s short and plump, graying hair, and a dull, reddish-brown overcoat with no adornments. Her face, years older and softer, even manages a hint of a smile.

  Another figure, a guard, stands in the shadows behind the ladies—quiet and unmoving.

  I guess they’re afraid I’ll sprout two heads or walk through glass.

  Since I’m at a complete loss as to what’s going on, I stand quiet and wait.

  Miss High and Mighty peers down her nose with lips pinched. Condescension and disdain drip from her eyes. The gaze travels the length of my body then rests on my face.

  Her disapproving stare sparks a wave of deep anger within, as though I appear before her in judgment for some imagined crime.

  Unflinching, I meet her gaze and force steel into my voice. “Let. Me. Out.”

  I’m rigid and unblinking, not backing down.

  The blonde woman’s lips quirk as if amused and speak in a soft accent I can’t place—European—the tone low and melodic. “Oh, look, it makes demands.”

  The accent chips away at my brain. It feels familiar, like I’ve heard traces of it before.

  She turns to the older woman, who drops her eyes and keeps silent

  Her too perfect face moves in my direction. Eyes narrowing, she glides to the glass, and her angry face bores into me.

  Those weird irises tell me everything I need to know—she’s not human. “Who in the hell are you?” Fear and fury force the blood to whoosh in my ears. “Why am I in here?”

  “I can’t believe you risked everything for”—she rakes a stare over me, once more—“a thing like her.”

  Open hostility and hate spew from her mouth, but I’m confused by the words.

  Risked everything? Bewildered, I stand and stare like an idiot. “What in the fuck are you talking about, lady?”

  A small smile flickers on her lips. “Oh, you didn’t know?” She steps aside, revealing the figure standing in the shadows.

  With slow, controlled steps, the form cuts between the two females.

  Black boots come into view, the material supple and polished. Each step forward is like a funeral beat.

  My eyes travel from the feet to dark gray pants hugging slender legs.

  A black overcoat covers the torso. The garment, short in the front, with a hem hitting the mid-thigh range, screams more than a guard. Behind the figure, coattails hang, stopping below the backs of his knees.

  I trace the red patterns on the lapels to the black mandarin collar, where the red threads coalesce to form an exquisite flame design. At each corner of the collar sits a red starburst, edged in black and silver.

  My heart stops, and my chest constricts, forcing my lungs to refuse to breathe. No.

  “I’ve seen those designs before.” Something inside me releases a silent scream.

  “Yes.” Her hateful voice, thick and sultry like syrup, makes me think of a viper luring prey into striking range. “You have.”

  “No.” I stumble on the seamless floor then regain my footing. “This can’t be right.”

  Don’t look at his face, Tilly, because if you do, everything’s lost.

  Unable to stop the inevitable, my head rises. A stab of pain floods my chest. My face numbs, and my mind screams in denial.

  “I trusted you.” The words make my chest constrict. Maybe even love . . .

  Jareth’s black eyes hold mine. It’s him, right down to the rogue tooth, yet it’s also not the face I know. This one displays a regal air—powerful, as callous and cold as stone.

  Speechless. Not a single word emerges from my mouth.

  His eyes—I can’t look away.

  Turmoil drains my head of thought, and the crushing pain in my chest has me gasping for breath. My throat tightens and I fight to hold tears back.

  He shoulders between the women. His lips close in a tight line, and his brown—sometimes black—gaze holds me in place as if it was a physical force.

  “Tell me.” I shake my head in rejection at the man I thought I knew—unsure of anything anymore. “Was it just a game to you?”

  This is the reason he didn’t want to talk about his past. He isn’t a survivor or a fighter. I shake my head in denial, not wanting to adm
it what my heart already knows.

  In silence, he watches me, surely seeing every emotion I can’t hide in my shock.

  “Say something. Anything, you ass.” I place my palms to my temples and squeeze. “Why?”

  He lifts a hand to the glass, fingers splaying apart. That lighter colored band of skin around his middle finger traps my attention. It presses the pane and the palm turns pale white.

  “Oh, now you’re silent?” At one time, I would want—no, need—that hand on mine for comfort. I don’t reach out now, because everything is crashing into dust around me, shattering my trust and beliefs. Instead, I search his face and plead for a simple explanation.

  “Please, tell me”—the words come out in a whisper—“this is all a bad dream. To go back to sleep.”

  The coldness fades. Bits of my Jareth shine in the slight crinkle of his eyes, and the softening of his lips, but the care-free, arrogant charm is gone.

  Interrupting this terrible reunion, the woman who fancies herself important puts a manicured hand around his arm. She speaks in a foreign language that’s both musical and harsh.

  He opens his mouth but doesn’t turn his head in her direction. “Speak her language.” His focus, front and center, stays on me.

  She tightens the poisonous gaze on me. “Jareth, darling, your pet is speechless. You should clear things up—let her know who you are?”

  Her unpleasant, pretentious words stiffen my spine. “Was it all just a game to you?” I shake my head in denial, unsure if I’m telling him I don’t want to hear what he has to say or denying this whole surreal scene. “Was I?”

  His eyebrows pinch, and a look of frustration flashes from within. A deep breath expands his chest, and his lips move. “Mother, leave us.”

  “Don’t be long.” She glances at me one last time with a hateful grin like she’s won some secret battle. “For responsibility now demands your attention.”

  The two ladies head toward the door, not bothering to glance over a shoulder. Their coats glide above the dull, blue-gray floor.

  A soft hiss of the door closing tells me we’re alone.

  Jareth sighs and leans his forehead onto the glass. “It’s not—" He closes his eyes as if in pain.