The Descendant: Baltin Trilogy (Book 1)

by Melissa Riddell

Unable to hold my questions any longer, my voice trembles between anger and shock. “—Mother? That horrible woman birthed you?”

  He opens his eyes, lifting the dark lashes. “Unfortunately, yes.” His shoulders slump as if a giant hand is pressing them. “You’re confused about what’s going on.”

  I laugh, but it’s without humor—it borders on hysteria and rage. “Uh, yeah, that’s the understatement of the year. Hell, where do I start.” My hands run through my hair in an effort to stay calm—grounded. “First off, where the fuck is my dog?”

  “Kodiak’s fine, but hang on.” He lifts a hand, motioning for me to stop talking.

  "Go fuck yourself.”

  “Let me explain something first.” His face is wild, and he grasps at the glass as if he wants to pull me into his arms. “I never meant to mislead you. I should’ve said something in the beginning but was afraid you wouldn’t have anything to do with me if I told you the truth.” He stops and takes a deep breath, looking at his boots.

  Relief washes through me at knowing Kodiak’s okay, but the fury of his lies still burn deep, generating anguish and rage that simmers in my chest.

  Looking at him now, after hearing that woman—his mother—speak, tells me this man really is someone else; not the preposterous, swaggering jerk I met on the side of the road that night—not the Jareth who’s saved me multiple times.

  This Jareth isn’t even a goddamn human.

  “I shouldn’t have trusted you, should’ve known better.” My hand clenches into a fist, and I slam it on the glass. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

  “No. You’re not. Please, let me—”

  “You never had any intention of taking me to find my sister, did you? Tell me I’m wrong. And how the hell do you speak English?”

  His chest deflates with an exhale. “I had every intention of taking you to your sister.” He points a finger to his head. “My implant allows me to speak all the languages of Earth, past and present, but that’s not important. Hear me out.”

  Implant? I don’t want to know what that means.

  “Fine.” Even though my heart rails at what he might say, my brain demands an explanation.

  He lifts his head, anguish written in every crevice on his face.

  I want to hold my hands to my ears and block what he’s about to say, because deep down in my soul, I know it’s about to change my world—and not for the better. It no longer matters what I want, though—I’m no longer Tilly the Traveler, but Tilly the Captive.

  He rests his forehead on the glass, again. That handsome face—inches from mine—causes my heart to spasm and clench, and my strength to falter.

  Can I do this?

  Rubbing his jaw, he glances up. “My people are the ones who—you know.” He throws his hands out in frustration and punches the wall to his right.

  The impact makes me jump, and I take a step back.

  His fist stays where it lands, and he slides over into the wall, placing his cheek against its cool surface.

  He stares in my direction, still leaning onto the metal. His chest heaves.

  “No. No. No.” My legs stay rooted in my new spot. “Stop talking.” I try to process what he’s just said. “I don’t wanna hear anymore.”

  After a few seconds, he pushes himself off the wall and moves in front of me. His lips blow out a breath, and he looks at a point above my head, as if trying to find the right words—or strength.

  The shock is beginning to wear off, and an ice-cold anger churns deep in my heart, to the bottom of my soul. My eyes narrow. I watch him but say nothing.

  Finally, he dives back in as if needing to get the words out in a rush. “We’re the ones who came to your world.” He looks into my eyes with desperation and jerks his thumb to his chest. “I’m a Baltin.”

  “Son of a . . . I hope you burn in hell.” His words slam into my chest like a hammer driving nails into a coffin.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I never meant for this to happen.”

  My vision collapses to a small pinprick of light, and I will myself to not pass out.

  Don’t show any weakness. Can’t let him see how he’s breaking my heart. Who am I kidding?

  I bend at the waist and stumble backward. Feeling for the edge of the bed, my hands catch the thin mattress and halt an ungraceful fall.

  If he would’ve kicked me in the stomach, it would’ve been less painful than the truth spilling out of his lips at this moment.

  My head shakes from side to side. “No. I can’t believe this.” His words can’t be true because it means he’s just as responsible for the deaths of billions of people—and my parents—as the robots.

  A smudge on the floor between my feet consumes my attention while I take long, slow breaths. The black, fathomless tunnel in my vision recedes. My tongue dabs out to lick dry lips. The back of my hand rubs my forehead, freeing it of the cold beads of sweat.

  Digging my nails into my palms, I use the intense pain to ground my train of thought. He’s helped me, saved me, loved me. There’s no way he could’ve taken part in humanity’s extinction. I clutch on another explanation, one that doesn’t involve the man I may or may not be in love with, being the bad guy.

  “This is just a nightmare—a hellish one at that.” I swallow the bile touching the back of my tongue. “You couldn’t have don’t such a thing.”

  My throat burns, and I force the tears to recede before I can continue. “Sparky and the robots wreaked all the devastation. I saw it with my own eyes. They released the EMP and hunted us with their pods and spread the virus.”

  A low groan comes from his throat, and he flops to face away, back pressing the glass.

  His voice, low and gruff, displays no humor or swagger. “I wish it wasn’t true, Tilly. God, how I wish it wasn’t. I’ve never in my life wanted to take something back so much.”

  He pauses for a moment and uses a finger to pull the collar away from his throat. The dark curls at the back of his head scrunch against the glass with his movement.

  “The robots carried out the orders for the cleansing after we released the EMP.” When he swings his body back to face me, he moves as if on autopilot, or fighting a great weight. There’s a glimmer in his eyes.

  Unable to sit on the bed any longer, my anger forces me to my feet, and I stalk toward him, rage warring with despair. “Stop it. Don’t say another damn word.”

  There’s a frantic, dangerous challenge in my voice. Hot tears threaten to spill down my cheeks, but I force them to stay put. I won’t cry. Not in front of him ever again, and I’ll never shed a tear in this hateful, forsaken place.

  “Because if you did, there’s no going back.”

  “You have to understand—anger and rage were eating me alive after Jalinda and Ani died.” He strikes the wall, the sound even louder than before. “I thought what we were doing was the best course of action. I didn’t care about humans either way—I was dead inside, until you.”

  Anguish tugs at his lips and pales his face. “But it doesn’t excuse the genocide, because the irony is humans had nothing to do with our war. Earth was a casualty of real estate, the closest planet for relocation.”

  My eyes lock with his in an unblinking stare for what seems like an eternity.

  The silence between us is deafening. When I said I could never—that I didn’t want to believe him, I told the truth. Because if I did, it would mean everything I’ve ever experienced with him, every feeling he brought out, and every ounce of trust I placed in him meant nothing—it was all a lie. He was playing some sick, twisted game with the little human he found, hoping to conquer and break her.

  What convinces me is the glimmer in his eyes. I’ve never seen him cry, even when he told me about his wife and daughter dying, about his attempted suicide.

  That story was a fucking lie, too. I’m such a pathetic, blind idiot.

  He and his people did all those terrible things to my species, and no amount of remorse can ever make things right again. />
  My heart shatters. It splinters into a million tiny shards, lying on the floor of my soul. The pain of what he’s done threatens to make my heart stop beating, but I tighten my jaw. Those broken pieces begin to burn with a deep, simmering ferocity.

  “So, all the time we were together on the road—when I told you about my parents, my attacker, my fears—you just sat there, knowing you were the one responsible for my agony and destruction?”

  “Red—”

  I cut him off, because I don’t want to listen to any more of his horrid, hateful words of truth. “Don’t you ever call me that again, you fucking asshole.” Hearing the nickname fall from his lips is like pouring a draught of poison into an open wound. “You don’t get to speak anymore. It’s my turn.”

  “Okay.” He dips his chin toward his chest in a single nod.

  “How could you? I trusted you—Kodiak trusted you.” I fight the tears threatening to spill forth. “I kissed you, gave part of my heart and soul to you, yet you were the enemy the entire time.”

  Every artery and vein in my body burns with the heat of anger. It feels like I’m about to implode.

  “You’re no better than the guy in the motel—the rapist. No, you’re actually worse, because at least I figured out what he was after. But you’re something less than human—you lied, made me think you cared about Kodiak and me.”

  The waves of pain churning in my chest makes me want to die. I wrap my arms around my body and bend, gasping in air and gagging at the thought of what he’s done, who—no, what—he is.

  “How could I have been so damn blind, so trusting, again?”

  Remembering the horrible suffering of my parents, of the people in my community, and the near extinction of the entire planet, I look at him. Pain and misery twist my face into a mask of hate and rage.

  “You’re a lying fucking monster.” Even though I promised myself I wouldn’t cry here, or in front of him, tears course down my cheeks, and there’s no stopping them now. “I hate you.” The wetness drips onto my neck, creating a trail as cold as my heart.

  He beats a fist against the barrier. “Tilly, let me finish.”

  “Oh, you’ve done and said way more than enough.”

  “I need to explain.” His features spiral in grief and sharpen the lines on his brow. “You don’t know the whole story. Not yet.”

  “There’s nothing more I need, or want, to know.” I wipe my cheeks and push the hair back from my face. “Tell me, when you were acting, playing house and camping, was Sparky your lap dog, your spy, you bastard?”

  “No, I disconnected him so he wouldn’t kill you. It wasn’t an act, none of it. You were right to call me a coward. I ran away after we”—he pauses for a moment—“did what we did. My conscience couldn’t take it any longer, the entire cleansing. I needed redemption, even though I didn’t know that’s what I was looking for at the time.” His eyes plead, and he reaches a hand to the glass like he’s begging me to take it.

  “When I saw you on the road, fighting with your last breath, even though it was pointless, something inside me came to life and a spark of hope ignited. You’re the best thing to happen since I lost myself. You’re truly the other half of my existence.”

  A small tear slips from the corner of his eye and rolls over his cheekbone to hide in the scruff. “Please give me a chance—listen to what I have to say. I meant everything I ever said to you.”

  Both of his hands press on the glass, and his coat wrinkles into the barrier. There’s a desperate look on his face, but my cold rage pours into my heart, into my mind, and into my soul.

  “Family? Yeah, right. That story you told me in the house was a lie, I’m sure. You didn’t have a wife and kid. You just made that shit up to make me feel sorry for you. I met your real family, and Mom’s a real bitch.” I smack my open palm on the glass to emphasize my statement, resentment replacing the jagged hole he’s ripping in me. No, not just a hole, an enormous, light-sucking, time-altering black hole.

  He stiffens. “I would never lie about my daughter dying.”

  “Bring my dog and let me go. It’s obvious, I’m nothing to you but a curiosity, a dirty inconvenience, a wanna-be one-night stand. Your mother has made that abundantly clear.” The last word comes out as a hiss against the glass since my face is mere inches from his.

  “That’s not true.”

  “Perhaps you want to kill me here and now and get it over with. I mean, come on, why suffer another little human to draw breath? We’re just one more pest you can swat away.” On a roll, I’ve no intention of stopping now. “Or is it the hunt? Do you enjoy trapping humans in a deadly game of hide, seek, and destroy—or in your case, obliteration?”

  “You’re angry, and I understand why.”

  “You don’t know jack shit.” Frustration and venom ooze from my words. “Besides, you might as well kill me. I cared for you, trusted you, and now I’ll never, ever forgive you for what you’ve done. Do you hear me? Never.”

  I spit at his face and wish, for just this moment, that the barrier wasn’t between us.

  Turning on my heel, I stalk to the bed and lie down. I stare at the wall, and pray he leaves before he sees how his lies have broken me, how empty and worthless I am.

  My body, heart, and mind might break like brittle bone if I have to hear one more deception from his cursed mouth.

  “I deserved that and much more. What kind of man does the things I’ve done?” His muffled voice is quiet. “But you’re wrong. I do care about you, Tilly. Being with you and Kodiak has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me since this mess began. How can you not see that?”

  My head turns toward him, but I make no move to sit up.

  A hand fidgets with the edge of his coat. “After losing Ani, I became a ghost and did everything I could to fill the nothingness—to feel again—even if it was rage.”

  The black coat swishes back and forth, hitting the glass on each turn of his pace. “I made horrible choices and committed terrible sins; and these are things I’ll never be able to take back. They’ll always be a black stain on my soul. But I’ve changed. It’s why I left to live alone. The monster I became was what my people needed, but I didn’t just pay the price, so did Earth. I never want to be that version of myself again because I hate him.”

  “Good. Then that makes two of us.”

  “You don’t mean that.” Still pacing, he takes a deep breath. “You’re like lightning to my thunder. You have an inner glow that balances the darkness that tries to pull me under. When I’m with you, I’m a better man. Doesn’t that count for something?” He stops and holds his hands out to me, as if in surrender.

  “But you’re not a man, are you?” My heart’s a rock, and my words just as impenetrable. “Get the fuck out of here, Jareth. You’re the most despicable person I’ve ever known. When you can’t own up to something, you run like a fucking coward. You make me sick.”

  He lets out a long sigh and drops his arms to his side. Even through my own pain and torture, I register the anguish that pulls at his face, causing those dark eyes I’ve come to love so much to darken, and the jaw to tighten.

  The soft swish of the automatic door slides open then closes, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

  I lie on the flat bed and weep for everything I’ve lost—my parents, my sister, my dog, and my heart. I cry for all the souls on earth slaughtered, who never got the chance to see their loved ones grow into old age, who never had the opportunity to chase their dreams.

  Loud sobs wrench from my chest at the thought of the senseless pain and suffering caused by such cruel actions. Now, I know who’s responsible for our demise—The Baltins: not an artificial intelligence, but a race of people so like our own—cruel and uncaring, seeking only to dominate and claim another planet because they ruined theirs with war.

  “I curse the day I ever met you, Jareth”—I shout the words, allowing the raw emotions to spew—“You and your people.”

  A silent prayer, m
ore of a plea for the strength to get through whatever ordeal his people have in store for me—for Earth, fills my thoughts.

  What’s Kodiak doing right now? Is he safe, happy? At this point, I’d welcome his stinky fur and butt breath. If only one thing Jareth said was true, let it be that my dog’s healthy.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Reality comes crashing back like torture. Fucking Jareth and his lies.

  Something rattles across the room, and a tray of food appears in an alcove.

  It must be feeding time at the zoo, and I’m not a spectator, but the main attraction. The smell wafting causes my stomach to growl, angry or not.

  I throw my legs over the bed and remember I’m not even wearing human clothes. Some jackass must’ve dressed me when I was unconscious. An image of the motel in Abilene comes to mind, but this time, I’m not scared but pissed. Spilling my disgust and pain to Jareth that night during the storm was freeing, but now the truth means nothing. He was laughing at my anguish.

  Snippets of the white light, when I floated between life and death, meander through the halls of memory. There was a female voice who spoke to a male—what had she said? Something final and foreboding, like you’ll embrace your future, and no more running.

  The memory is hazy and out of focus. With that slight accent, though, the voice could only belong to Jareth’s bitch mother.

  What’s he trading for my life? It doesn’t matter. He’s a monster.

  Black depression tries to crush me under its weight, but I force myself to the tray and carry it to the bed.

  Survive and find Sissy. I add a second line: trust no one.

  The mantra flares in my mind, and I seize upon it, grateful for the flash of focus. Yes. This got me through losing my parents, and it’s how I’ll deal after losing him.

  Determination pours into my heart. I can—and will—get through this, because guess what? I’m a survivor. Always have been, and always will be.

  I settle the tray on my crossed legs. The first step of survival? Eat and drink.

  The metal dish looks like an ordinary cafeteria tray, with squared recesses for each item of food. In the main entrée area sits a burger covered in bacon and cheese with all the fixings. I instruct myself to not enjoy the meal, it’s just a source of nourishment. The thought rings untrue when I bite into the charcoal-kissed patty and salty bacon.