The Descendant: Baltin Trilogy (Book 1)

by Melissa Riddell

  My lip sneers. I don’t want to discuss anything with this woman.

  Inclining her head toward Jareth, she adds, “If it’s okay with Tilly.”

  I want to scream, hell no, it’s not okay, but I also don’t want to show any weakness in front of this hag.

  “Sure. No problem.” I throw a dazzling smile her way like it’s a weapon.

  Jareth lets me go with a quick kiss to the temple. “Be nice, Mother.”

  Kodiak and I follow her out of the bridge.

  After the doors slide shut, she turns on her heel and focuses on the humanoid guards. “I thought I made it clear, she”—a manicured hand points in my direction—“was not, under any circumstances, allowed to step onto the bridge, especially when Jareth is in command.”

  Does she realize she’s still speaking English?

  The guard, who Granny Evil bullied earlier, turns pale, but doesn’t offer an excuse, only an apology. “Please forgive me, Governess.”

  Her blonde head turns to me. “And you. You’re nothing, not even worthy to breathe the same air as our kind.”

  The hate in her words causes my fingernails to dig into my palms. I let out a high chuckle, making sure it’s loud and annoying. “Lady, you got it backwards. You’re not worthy enough to breathe my air. Or did you forget you killed nearly seven billion people?”

  She flicks a finger at my face, only a couple of inches away.

  If she touches me, I swear to God I’m going to punch her in the nose, too, and I’m not going to stop.

  “We did your planet a favor. Your race was becoming unsustainable, and humans—Earth’s parasites—were obliterating the very home they never earned in the first place. We rectified the matter and saved your little blue and green planet.” Her chin juts, defiant and cold.

  I throw my arms into the air. “So, that gives your kind the right to judge us—to play God?”

  She chuckles a low laugh that makes my spine straighten. “We aren’t playing God, stupid girl, we are God.” She stabs a hand in the direction of the closed doors. “And right now, you’re out of your depth. Crawl back to whatever filthy hovel you came from and stay there, before I send you myself.”

  Kodiak lets out a growl, and I try to calm him with a head pat. I don’t want the robots to take us for a threat and fry him and then me on the spot.

  When I straighten, I whisper, “You’re a real bitch. I feel sorry for Jareth having to grow up with such a heartless mother. No wonder he wanted to get away.”

  Her eyes narrow, and the yellow irises darken. “There’s nothing special about you. Do us all a favor and die. To him, you’re no better than a primate. You’re a pleasant amusement—nothing more. When he sees that, he’ll smash you like the rest of your kind, like we should’ve done in the beginning, instead of sparing your pathetic existence for immunities and inferior DNA.”

  The noise of the large doors sliding open breaks the tension of our glares.

  She pivots and stalks away, coat trailing behind her body.

  Jareth moves to stand before me. “What was that about?”

  Her words hurt and remind me how unimportant and insignificant I am to these killers. These aliens will never rest until every human’s dead.

  A lone tear falls before I can wipe it away. I want to get the hell out of this place. They’re crazy, sadistic, and power-hungry.

  Jareth points at the audience lining the hall. “Get out. Now.”

  When they disappear, he takes my shoulders in his hands and bends to inspect my face. “What did she say?”

  Annoyance and anger make me bat at his arms, but he doesn’t budge. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.” I drop my hands to my side in defeat. “Will you let me go home? Please? I want to see my sister.”

  He shakes my shoulders with a slight tug. “There’s nothing there for you, Tilly.”

  A budding wave of fury blooms in my head. “This is the whole reason I didn’t want to get involved with you. I knew you’d screw me over, keep me from reaching Florida.”

  I push his chest with both hands, fingers splaying across his coat. “You say you love me? Then let me go. Love shouldn’t be a prison.”

  Sorrow twists his face at my words, as if I asked him to cut out his heart. “I’ll lose myself again without you.” Those slender fingers clutch my hands, tight and frantic. His words are low and quiet, like he’s having to force them through rigid lips. “I need you.”

  My throat tightens. The fierce conviction of his words gives me pause. I can’t sacrifice Sissy for him. No, he lies, and he kills.

  “Jareth, I can’t stay here. I don’t belong. This is your life, not mine.”

  He drops his head for a moment. That vein in his temple pulses.

  The hall stays empty, only the low hum of engines throbbing underfoot.

  Something in my heart seizes, and it hurts to see him like this, so proud and regal, yet torn and in pain. It shouldn’t bother me, but it does. Why’s everything so complicated?

  I cup his neck and pull his face down to mine. Leaning my forehead into his, I capture his eyes with a direct gaze. “You have to let me go.”

  Those dark, thick lashes brush the skin under his eyes. He angles his head and flutters his lips next to mine, hesitation in the contact.

  He’s taking a moment to make sure you’re not going to smack him upside the head again.

  In answer, my mouth presses to his. The kiss is slow, gentle, and full of sorrow, but I savor every touch of skin. I try to push all the screwed-up feelings from my heart into his mouth, into his soul.

  A tear falls, and I’m not sure if it’s from him or me. It traces itself down my cheek, and he wipes it away with a thumb.

  “Set me free, Jareth.” That quote comes to mind—if you love something, someone, set them free.

  He drops his arms from my body then turns. An elbow slams into the metal wall, the sound echoing throughout the ship. When he pulls away, there’s a dent. His tone is angry and hurt. “What if you don’t come back?”

  If I don’t return, I was never meant to be yours in the first place. I keep this thought to myself, but it circles in my mind, like a vulture eyeing a corpse on the ground.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  “Let me think.” His breathing is rapid, and he wipes his forehead with the back of a hand.

  I back up and give him time and space, because if I’m right, he’s fighting an internal battle.

  After a few minutes, he turns to me, a wistful smile lifting one corner of his mouth.

  “You’re right. You don’t belong in a prison—you belong on your planet, with your people. I’m being selfish.” His fingers tug at the tight collar around his neck. “We’ll be in orbit soon.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Consider it a surprise.” His fingers slide across my knuckles, and he locks his hand with mine.

  Instead of pulling away, I savor the sensation, wondering if this is the last time I’ll be able to touch him.

  Jareth, Kodiak, and I step out of a lift into a lit corridor.

  The walls display art every few paces. The paintings themselves are not like anything I’ve seen before, a cross between loose impression and surrealism. One canvas shows two planets, one dark blue and green, and the other planet whitish-blue, in opposing orbits circling a red sun.

  From the visual Granny showed me in Jareth’s kitchen, I know the planets are Baltin and Henoka. Approaching one of the images, I trace the outline of a planet.

  He points to a picture. “We stayed in cryogenic stasis during the journey, coming out every few years in staggered cycles to make sure operations were smooth. Bored artists decided to put their emotions on display.”

  Another painting shows a mother holding a small child in her arms, head bowed over the tiny body in grief. A fiery meteor streams down over her shoulder. The art’s disturbing, and reminds me of Jareth’s daughter, Ani. My throat clenches.

  As we walk, his stare roves across my face.
I can feel him willing me to change my mind. The hidden pull is a merciless fight, but I force myself to focus ahead.

  I sigh, drained and cranky. “Where are we going?”

  He stops in front of a large gray door that looks like the back entry of a cargo plane. A pad sits on the wall and he presses a palm to it. The door opens, one half sliding up through the ceiling and the other half slips into the floor.

  When I step inside, two guards give me a curt glance before their attention swings to the tall man in the room.

  Jareth points to one of them. “Redirect all traffic to Bay Six.”

  One of the guards speaks into an earpiece, then stares at their prince with confusion stamped on their faces.

  Jareth waves a hand toward the hall. “Leave.”

  Moving as fast as lightning, they scurry out like Satan himself is in the room.

  The doors slide together again, and the room is silent.

  It’s a humongous hanger with empty vessels everywhere. Some of the craft are pods, just like the one Sparky used. Others are so large, they could carry several cars inside and remind me of the triangular ship that searched for Jareth a few nights ago. “Isn’t that . . .”

  “No time for sightseeing.” He urges me forward with a tug.

  Several have tapered wings, like the B-21s that flew the skies before the Baltins destroyed everything.

  The ceiling is almost invisible in the vast emptiness stretching above the bay.

  Lined up and down the walls are more ships—each docked into their own pad. The sheer number is terrifying. How many bays like this are there? At least six so far.

  When I move farther to the back, in place of a wall is the dark expanse of space. My jaw slackens and I freeze. In front of me hangs my home—my Earth.

  Motionless, the breath catches in my throat. Awe and wonder make me forget to hate these people. The sight of that beautiful blue and green planet is glorious. My gaze follows the North and South American continents, skims over the blue oceans, targets the scattered white clouds, and traces the ridges of the Appalachian Mountains.

  Dozens of black pods and ships dart in and out of view, some leaving the ship from unseen openings, others returning from Earth, all flying at incredible speeds.

  “What’re they doing down there?”

  He sighs. “Cleaning. No Baltin will set foot on Earth until it’s pristine. Well, except for me, I seem to get off on dirty little things.” Those sultry eyes crinkle, and the tooth juts when his grin splits his mouth.

  The sight makes my knees weak and causes my chest to hurt, as if my heart wants to squeeze itself from my ribs and jump into his hands. He’s the most beautiful—and heartbreaking—person I’ve ever known. Unable to take the pain any longer, I turn my attention to the planet.

  Spellbound, I can’t tear myself away from the mind-blowing view. Humbleness falls over me like a cloak, because I’m one of the few humans who’s ever seen something such as this. Astronauts must’ve felt the same way when Earth appeared in the windows of their first rickety tin cans decades ago.

  I tell myself to breathe. With effort, I tear my eyes away and risk a quick glance at Jareth.

  Even though I can almost see the sadness pouring from his body, he raises an eyebrow. “I thought you’d like it.” He slides a little closer, thick overcoat rasping on my elbow.

  My arm slides away, and I return to the view of my home, feeling small, lost, and pointless.

  He takes both of my hands in a firm grip. “You’re going home. I don’t want you to be unhappy. If I could take everything back, I’d do it in a heartbeat. My mistakes will haunt me—and everyone else—forever.”

  Closing my eyes, I try to find a center of calm before responding. There are so many things I want to say, but how to voice them without bawling like a baby?

  He continues. “Do what you need to do, but when everything’s finished, we’re going to work this out.”

  My teeth grind, and I open my mouth to argue, but he shushes me with a finger.

  “I refuse to believe we weren’t meant to be together.” He lifts my hand, kisses the inside of my wrist, and places it over his heart. The beat is steady and unrelenting, like his conviction.

  Sorrow, hate, and affection mix until I’m unsure where one stops and the other begins. The weight in my chest is strong, and clenches with anguish. He has no idea how difficult it is for me to hold back the emotions pouring through my heart like a kaleidoscope of colors.

  Remember, he’s the enemy, not boyfriend material, not even one-night-stand material. To make it worse, he’s also moody and crazy like his grandma.

  I scramble to shape some of those broken pieces of my glass heart into armor. “When we met, it seemed like your game was to get a quick lay with one of the locals before you sent her to death.” The bitterness in my statement feels physical, like I could pull it from between my teeth and throw it on the ground.

  There’s a visible knot at the junction of his jaw, right below his earlobe. “What? God, no, that was never the plan. I haven’t been with anyone since we got here. That was the farthest thing from my mind until I saw your face.”

  My eyes fill, but I blink the tears back. “You sure have a strange way of showing how you love someone.” I fill my lungs, steadying myself for what I need to say, despite the pain. “You ignited something deep within my soul—and then crushed it to pieces, like broken fragments under your feet. I don’t know how to get past the pain and the lies, Jareth.”

  This moment between us is final, regardless of what he says, and I plow through the haze of betrayal to say my piece and shut the door on what could’ve been.

  He strings his fingers through my hair, then tilts my chin to his, rubbing his thumb across my neck. “I’ll fix this, I swear.”

  Earth looms large in the background while he stands before me, resplendent and immaculate, heartbreaking, and beautiful. But in that beauty, I see a flawed and dangerous man—an alien who’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants.

  “I gave my trust to you,” my voice shakes. “You had every reason to tell me the truth in the beginning, but you didn’t. You’re right, I would’ve hated you, but at least the relationship could’ve started on the grounds of truth. I might’ve been able to forgive you after seeing what kind of man you were.”

  A look of pain crosses his face. “I know.” He pauses for a few seconds as if he’s trying to steel himself. “But why can’t you accept me now? I’m still the same person you met, and you’ve made me better. You’re all I want. I don’t care about”—he throws his hands out to gesture around—“all of this, if you’ll have me. This isn’t my life anymore, and I want nothing more to do with it. I’d break my bond in a minute if you’ll just say the word.”

  A stab of guilt pierces my thoughts. “I’m aware you traded your freedom for my life. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’d do it over and over again if it means you live.” He wraps a hand around the back of my neck. “Knowing you can’t forgive me is torture. I know the agony I’ve caused—not just in your heart, but in everything my people have done. I can’t bring your parents back, I can’t reverse what we did, but if I’ve done one thing right since we got here, it’s falling in love with you.”

  Sins can’t be washed away with love and good intentions after the fact, can they?

  Fury wells inside but fighting against it is that some other emotion struggling to reach the surface. Something I don’t want to think about, don’t even want to address. Whatever the emotion is, it keeps pounding on the door of my heart, begging me to let it in.

  I should hate him for what he’s done. And that’s just it—I want to hate him, I want to scream at him, and I want to kill him. But there’s already been so much hatred and death. Will it stop only when there are no more people left alive, making life—the whole struggle, good and bad, happy and sad—pointless?

  When I don’t respond, his shoulders slump. As angry as I’ve been at his betrayal and mess on
the planet, I can’t take seeing this proud man broken and defeated.

  From the time we met, he’s entranced me. He said he’s still the man I met, and he could be right, but I need more than words as proof. I need actions.

  “I’m not sure I can ever see you in the same light again, Jareth. You rip me apart and now you expect me to forget what you’ve done and go on like nothing’s happened? You and your people destroyed everything I ever knew. How would you act if that happened to you?” I swallow. “Oh wait, I know what you’d do. You’d tear someone else’s world apart.”

  He reaches a finger to trace my nose and mouth, and I brace myself to the touch.

  A corner of his mouth quivers, and he tilts his head to the side. “The old me, yes, he did those things. But the new me has something to fight for, somebody to ground him, someone to be his light when it’s dark.”

  What was it he told Sparky that night in the front yard, out in the moonlight? When someone feels emotion, logic flies away. That’s just it. I can’t deny what my heart wants, but it doesn’t make any logical sense. How can I ever love someone like him? He lied to me. How can I trust him again?

  Kodiak runs around the hangar, sniffing every craft he encounters, delirious at finding a new area to explore.

  “I need space, Jareth. If you really care about me and want to atone, persuade your people to leave us alone. Stop killing humans. You won a war that humanity never started. There aren’t enough living to pose a threat.”

  He pulls me into his body heat and scent.

  I look into his bottomless brown-black eyes, and swim against the pull of the tide, struggling to keep my head above water.

  “I’m already working on a plan.”

  “If you’re the leader, why can’t you just call the whole thing off and go away?”

  His head turns to Earth. “You really want me to leave forever?”

  “If it means it’ll keep my planet safe.” Though this is the truth, my heart stings at the idea.

  The back of his hand rubs my chin. “It’s not that simple, Tilly. I made a deal to save my people, and I have to see this through, unless you change your mind and take me back.” The last few words sound unsure, as if he’s testing the waters again.