Jareth cooked me bacon. I banish the memory, stuffing it so far down in my mind that it’ll never surface again.
I haven’t tasted a hamburger in years, and a cry of joy nearly flies from my mouth. Homemade fries, crisped and salted, accompany the main meal. I cram them in-between bites of the burger. Even though it shames me to be enjoying food the enemy provides, I don’t stop.
It’s just to fuel up, that’s all, nothing more.
Dessert is a large slice of chocolate cake, and I savor the sweetness.
The fluffy frosting sticks to my teeth and coats my lips in sinful goo. A snippet of a past conversation whispers in my mind.
What food do you miss the most, Red?
I miss pizza, hamburgers, chocolate cake, and ice cream.
He’s a cold bastard. The hamburger in my gut rolls and flips, and my appetite vanishes.
Knowing he’s somehow behind this meal, I throw the tray at the wall. Intense satisfaction fills my heart at watching the cake creep to the floor in a black, sticky mess.
Fuck him and his gifts.
Disgust wells inside me at how eager I was to take their food. These people are manipulative and sadistic. Escape is my only option, and I’ve got to get out of here. Once I rescue my dog, I’ll burn this motherfucking place to the ground. Then, I’ll bathe in the ashes and let Kodiak piss on any Baltin he finds who might still be burning.
I lean my head on the wall and study where the glass and ceiling meet. It’s seamless—no apparent gaps of any kind.
The food alcove looks promising until I peer closer. A faint outline shows in the back of the wall, but it’s not going to be any help, unless I become Thumbelina.
How can I escape an inescapable room? Is this going to be my life? Am I destined to live in this shitty little cell as a prisoner until they kill me?
Are they planning on keeping me for amusement? Jareth’s mom was only too happy to point out my pet status earlier, the dreadful wench. Just let me out of this cage, and I’ll show her what humans mean by the saying “bite the hand that feeds”.
The frustration builds, and I sprint to the chocolate cake on the floor. “Guess what? If you’re going to treat me like an animal, I’m going to act like an animal.” I don’t know if they’re watching, or can hear, and I don’t give a damn.
Sticking my hands in the gooey, black mess, I begin smearing it over the entire glass wall. A maniacal laugh comes out, and I wonder if I’m losing my mind. My hands revel in the glorious mess unfolding, sweat pouring from my temples at the exertion. Jamming my fingers into the goop, I scoop some into the seams of the wall and floor, then flick my wrists to make interesting patterns of thick, chocolate splatter.
When there’s no more cake left on the floor, I stand back and admire my art skills. From the floor to about five and a half feet up is an oblique wall of smeared, dark crumbs and sugar.
Holy hell, girl, you’re becoming a regular Picasso. Who knew all it takes is a broken heart and mind?
The door whispers open.
“If you’re here for the food, come and get it. But you might want a broom, mop, and bucket.”
A dim shape walks to the glass. I know it’s Jareth by the bulky shoulders and narrow hips. He stands motionless for a few seconds as if he’s taking in the scope of my masterpiece.
“Oh, God, please tell me that’s not what I think it is.”
“Why don’t you come inside and give it a nice, long sniff to find out?”
He sighs, then lifts an arm to the wall. The barrier is clear again, no sign of my wonderful cake-apocalyptic painting.
Well, damn, that piece of technology sucks. I was hoping he’d enter, so I could punch him in the balls and run.
His hair, now short and lying slick and straight against his head, makes me miss the wild man style. The jawline’s skin is smooth, beard gone, and he doesn’t look much older than me.
Just looking at him hurts my soul. “Get out of here, Jareth. I don’t want to see your face again. What part of I hate you do you not get?”
“I wanted—”
I reach out to grab the tray lying on the floor, and with a flick of my wrist, it flies to the glass, in the same spot as his face.
“Tilly, stop. Calm down.”
There’s a pillow on the bed, and I clutch it. Sticking the top in my mouth, I tear at the bottom with my fingers. The cloth rips and white foam pours out. I wrench the material apart and throw them in his direction, the soft pieces raining like snow.
“God, woman—”
I grab the tray with both hands and begin slamming it against the glass, drowning the rest of his words. The sound reverberates in the small cell, and the metal pounds with a steady beat. I wish like hell the glass will break, so I can hit his head instead.
Several guards walk inside, wearing red uniforms and carrying long weapons, but I don’t care. I keep beating the wall like a miner on a diamond streak. “Fucking Baltins. Fucking Jareth. Fucking liars.” Walking into my swing, the tray hits with such force, a referred vibration shoots up my arms and rattles my shoulder blades. A crack forms the length of the width. “All of you can go to hell!”
My arms ache, and I’m too weak to continue my carnage, so I throw the tray to the floor and gasp for air.
One of the female guard’s head turns to Jareth. “Prince Averon, should we—”
“Yeah. Come try me, you alien bitch.”
He shakes his head, bottom lip quivering. “No, I’m fine. She’s just letting off some steam. Back to your posts.”
The guards give me a long glance as if I’m a crazy squirrel then leave. Well, their assumption’s not far from the truth.
“Prince Averon? That’s the worst name I’ve heard in my life. Let me guess, your real name isn’t even Jareth?”
He cocks his head as if making a visual inspection of the rest of the cell.
“You like the updated look? I swept through it like a fucking tornado, and then decided to do a second pass. Sound familiar, asshat?”
A long sigh of air rushes from his mouth. “It’s Jareth Averon, not Grant.” He scratches at his jaw and clucks his tongue. “You know how to make a point.”
Wow. One more lie. He couldn’t even tell me his last name—the real one. And he’s a prince? “You’re just a prince, not even a king? What a loser.” I force a laugh out, and it sounds fake even to my ears. What kind of fucked up reality am I living in?
He pierces me with his gaze just as if he were lodging a spear into my heart. “I become King of my people when I marry.”
My hands give a lazy golf clap, and I roll my eyes. “Good luck with that.” I shoot him the finger. “Get out of here, Prince Jareth. I can’t deal with you anymore.”
“I want to—”
“No. I mean it. If you ever really cared about me, even a little, you’ll leave and not say another word. Don’t make me beg. Haven’t you shamed and hurt me enough?”
I drop onto the cot. Curling into a ball, I tuck my head and shut out the world.
His footsteps are soft and steady, and the swish of the door sounds final.
Chapter Twenty
I’m staring at the blank ceiling, ticking off the multitude of ways I can murder the curly-headed terror once I get the hell out of here. But how can I leave when I don’t know where I’m at, where my dog’s at? Is Kodiak okay? Is Jackass Jareth giving him the attention he needs? I need my furry friend to help heal the hole in my heart, to chase away the loneliness and grief.
I need my talisman.
The door opens.
“Oh, my fucking God, Jareth. Get. Out.”
A woman appears at the glass. It’s the shorter, older woman from earlier. She smooths her graying hair and gives me a tentative smile. “Hello, dear.”
If my eyes could shoot knives, this lady would look like swiss cheese. “Who are you and what do you want?”
She touches the control pad in the middle of the room, then raises her hand to the wall.
The
barrier disappears.
“I’m Jareth’s grandmother, Eva.” She lifts her head and peers into my room. “Let’s get you out here. This is no place for a young girl.” She stretches out a pudgy hand, as if waiting for me to take it.
My lip curls in a sneer. Don’t think so, granny.
I’m about to voice this aloud when another idea slams home. Don’t pass on an opportunity to get the hell out of here. I can take this old woman easy. My body might be short and small, but hers is old and slow.
All right, grandma, let’s do this.
I grip her hand.
She pats me on the shoulder. “I understand you have a dog. Would you like to see him?”
My fist relaxes.
I study her face. There are crow’s feet around her eyes, and a twinkle shines from her brown irises.
Well, damn. She reminds me of my own dead grandma, and she’s tempting me with Kodiak. She’s a Baltin, though, the enemy. Don’t forget they’re manipulative liars—and she helped to spawn the worst one of all.
My words are quiet. “Yes, I’d love to see Kodiak.”
She laces her fingers through mine and pulls me through the door.
Several guards mill about but straighten when she appears. They speak something I don’t understand, and she waves them off with a flip of her hand.
In a whisper, she leans toward my ear. “You gave them quite a show. Good work. I haven’t seen them this out of sorts in months.” She winks and pulls me down a hall.
My head reels, because I don’t know what to make of this woman. At first glance, she’s an ordinary grandma, not an alien killer.
The hall shimmers with a gray metal, and the floors and ceiling reflect soft lighting. Mahogany—or something similar—covers the floor. On the left wall, displays scroll past in a foreign language. Rendered graphics of the sun and the other planets in the solar system revolve, and more data spills under each picture.
The opposite wall has doors spaced every fifteen feet or so, and I wonder if they’re quarters, or more prison cells for human animals like me.
I want to make a snarky comment, but keep my mouth shut because I also want to believe this woman is taking me to see Kodiak.
She stops at a spherical recession set into the display wall. It’s around seven feet tall and four feet wide. “Come, dear. Step inside the lift.” Her hand motions me forward.
The hall is clear both ways. If I make a break for it now, I might be able to outrun the guards, and it’s certain I’ll be able to outrun Grandma Eva, or whatever the hell her name is. But the idea of seeing my dog halts my anxious feet.
If she’s telling the truth. Even if she isn’t, I can’t go without my dog.
Puffing out a loud breath of air, I step into the lift.
She squeezes my hand. “Oh, Tilly. I’ve heard so much about you.”
A quiet hum starts, and the lift begins moving.
I cut my eyes in a sideway glance. “You have?”
“Oh yes. Jareth is quite smitten with you.”
Fucking Jareth. Her words leave bitterness in my mouth. “Well, I’d like to smite him, and everyone else here.”
“Yes, I imagine you would.”
Damn it, she’s not supposed to be nice.
The lift stops, and she and I step out. A short hall, lined with motionless robots, leads to a set of double doors decorated in the red sunburst design. A pang hits me when I think of Sparky cutting the sunflower, opening the fence, and finding clothes for me. He’s just as much a victim of this evil race as I am.
The floor’s covered with black carpet, and the walls are silver. The colors and starburst design are the same as Jareth’s tattoo, the same one I traced with my fingers, wonder and love blooming in my heart at the close contact. I want to shove a fist into my mouth to keep the scream and pain inside.
My stomach flips, and I fight the nausea. “If this is his place, I’m not setting foot in there.”
The old woman chuckles, and with a spry step, waits for me at the doors. “Come, girl, Kodiak’s waiting for you.”
Well, hell. She doesn’t play nice, and I don’t need her to tell me again.
As soon as I step inside, I’m knocked to the ground by a ninety-pound ball of fur. Kodiak’s tongue licks every inch of my face between barks, and I push him off so I can breathe. Fighting his fervor, I manage to stand. But the excitement of seeing me has him jumping on my legs, feet, and stomach as if I’m a trampoline, and I fall to the floor again.
“All right boy, all right. I missed you, too.” My heart swells, and I cover my face and laugh when his teeth tug on my fingers, trying to get at my cheeks.
I grab his neck in a bearhug and breathe in his scent. The usual dog stink is gone, replaced by evergreen. “Ugh. You can’t hang around that asshole any longer. He’s a liar and a murderer.”
Kodiak’s blue and brown eyes smile at me, and he yelps twice. His muscles stop quivering, and he settles into a more dignified pose.
“I sure missed you, buddy.”
Eva clears her throat. “I’m going to have some tea. Would you care to join?”
Ruffling Kodiak’s fur one more time, my brows draw inward. “Do I have a choice?”
She slaps her thigh, causing the long, brown coat to puff out. “Of course, and I hope you’ll say yes.”
Damn it to hell. This old lady is getting on my nerves with her goody-good routine. I wonder if I can smother her with kindness, bonk her on the head, then run out the door? And evade those ten Sparkys guarding the hallway? Yeah, right. Keep dreaming.
I breathe out a sigh. “Fine, I’ll take some tea.”
She leads me through an almost empty foyer, devoid of any kind of personal effects, and past a sitting room. It has several white chairs with cushions, and a polished wooden cabinet next to the far wall. Farther on, she leads me around a wall to the left with a white metal table and four chairs into something that resembles a kitchen.
Her hand motions me to sit in a chair in the corner. With no other choice, I obey like a good little pet.
She moves with a calm step, like she hasn’t a care in the world.
Why’s she being so nice? Trust no one, remember? I didn’t say I trusted her. I’m curious, that’s all.
Kodiak drops his toy mouse into my lap, then leans his head on my knee, dog grin shining from his lips. I rub the inside of his ears. “You’re so handsome, you know that?”
Eva walks to a counter opposite the table and taps on a clear control panel. Two cups of tea appear. “Oh, I forgot to ask—do you take yours hot or cold, and sweet or unsweet?”
My head shakes. “Lady, I haven’t had tea since you destroyed our world, so it doesn’t matter to me.” I try to keep the anger from my voice, but it’s not easy. They killed mankind and then want to sit down for tea, like nothing’s happened? They’re psychotic.
She nods her head and carries a cup to me before pulling out a chair and settling her plump frame.
I sniff at the liquid, wondering if it’s poison. It smells like tea, but then again, that doesn’t mean anything.
Her brown eyes appraise me in an open stare. “You don’t trust us, and I can’t say I blame you.” She takes a small sip, then blows some of the steam from the top. “Jareth told me the carrier—” she stops for a moment, as if she’s trying to recall his name “—Sparky, explained the war between Baltin and Henoka, the meteorite, all that?”
Looking down at my cup, I lift it to my mouth and take a drink. If they’re going to kill me, I guess they’d have done it by now. The concoction is good, and tastes like spearmint mixed with black tea. Plus, I’m thirsty.
Nodding my head, I take another sip, relishing the strong brew balanced by the cool mint. I also need some caffeine to deal with her crazy ass.
Kodiak, realizing I’m not going to play fetch with the mouse, moves to a corner of the room. Crunching noises issue from his mouth while he eats from a bowl on the floor.
So, Jackass Jareth really did steal my
dog. Asshole.
Eva taps on the wall next to the table, and a screen lights up. “Well, it might be easier to show you what happened.”
Two planets appear, one colored with blues and greens, and the other larger, covered in what looks like ice.
She points to the ice ball. “This is Henoka, where our ancestors, the Henokans, are from. They settled Baltin many, many years ago. Henokans are fierce fighters, physically larger due to their planet’s unforgiving environment and gravity. They’ve always focused on weaponry and combat skills, even though they’ve never been able to quite match our scientific progress.” Her fingers swipe across the screen, and the picture zooms in on the other planet. “We devote ourselves to science, space exploration, and cybernetics.”
“I’m sorry, but why the hell should I care about your history? What does this have to do with me or killing humanity?” Her normal conversation, like we’re old friends instead of enemies, sets my teeth on edge.
That grandma smile appears on her lips, and a few wisps of gray hair float across her forehead. “To understand your enemy, you should know where they came from, how they reached point A to point B. Otherwise, you might overlook an important clue that could be the key to their defeat.”
I spread my hands out across the table. “Okay, I’m a little confused. Aren’t you my enemy? Why would you be telling me this?”
A small smile tugs one corner of her mouth. With shock, I realize it reminds me of someone else’s grin. Kill me now. “I’m not your enemy, and neither is Jareth, not anymore.” Her wise old eyes skewer mine. “There’s a thin line between enemy and friend, hate and love. Shouldn’t one use the same technique with those they care about, too? Not to exploit the weakness, but to understand that person?”
Why do I have the feeling this conversation went from an alien biology and geography lesson to a Dr. Phil episode?
To avoid having to answer, I slurp and stare at the screen from over the rim of my cup. This lady’s batshit cray-cray.
The Descendant: Baltin Trilogy (Book 1) Page 32
