Falling for Kindred Claus

by Evangeline Anderson

  “Well…no,” Asher admitted. “But what does that have to do with anything?”

  “Earth DNA is remarkably flexible,” Sylvan remarked. “I have been studying it from the moment the Mother Ship came here to defend the planet from the Scourge. Earth females, in particular, seem to be able to bond to almost any branch of the Kindred biological tree, including the Havok and even Hybrids, who are usually unable to form a bond with any female.”

  “I…did not know that,” Asher said slowly. Then he lifted his chin. “But even if I did find out I could bond Lisa to me, I would not do it.”

  “Why not?” Sylvan asked, frowning in his turn. “It seems to me that finding one’s fated mate and then refusing to bond with her is dangerously close to turning away a gift from the Goddess herself—one that may never be offered again. Do you not care for Lisa?”

  “Of course I care for her!” Asher exclaimed. “And it is because I care for her that I cannot even try to bond her to me. Look at the life I lead, Commander Sylvan! Look at the dangers I risk every day. I cannot, in good conscience, bring the woman I love into such a hazardous lifestyle!”

  “So you admit that you love her,” Sylvan said quietly.

  “Yes, I love her!” Asher felt a surge of anguish which was not easily pushed aside. “She is everything I’ve ever wanted in a female—in a mate. But I cannot put her in danger.”

  “You could do as Commander Drugair has done and only take safe diplomatic missions from now on,” Sylvan pointed out.

  “The mission to Helios Beta was supposed to be safe!” Asher exclaimed. “And look what happened—Lisa almost died!” He ran a hand through his hair distractedly. “I almost lost her forever.”

  “But you have lost her forever if you let her go like this,” Sylvan said quietly. “Asher,” he continued, leaning across the table. “I know a little of your history—the way you lost both your parents so suddenly at a young age. Do you think maybe you’re allowing that early trauma to influence your decision now? Do you think maybe you’re pushing Lisa away so you won’t have to fear the pain of an even greater loss if something should, Goddess forbid, happen after you were bonded?”

  “No, I do not think that,” Asher said coldly. “I think I’m doing what’s best for her—removing her from a dangerous situation before she can get hurt. I think—”

  But just then a loud cracking sound interrupted him.

  Looking down, he saw that the gray splotched egg on the Sacred Blue pillow had popped open and a little face with brilliant dark eyes was staring at him from the remains of the shell.

  Forty-Four

  “It says here that you may feed your new chewchie a little soft fruit for a treat but other than that, they require no sustenance other than your emotions,” Sylvan said, reading from the elaborate golden scroll of instructions which had been tucked into a pocket in the Sacred Blue pillow. He frowned and looked up from the scroll. “Can that be right?”

  “I assume so, since the high priest of the Chorkay wrote the instructions himself,” Asher murmured. He was staring at the little chewchie who had licked itself clean and fluffed out its smoky gray fur and was now sitting on the pillow, staring back at him. The little creature didn’t seem particularly hungry but for some reason, as he stared at it, Asher kept thinking of the pink specked egg—the one Lisa had taken with her.

  He frowned and shook his head. The image kept appearing in his mind over and over again, like a line of a song he couldn’t forget. Why was that?

  “Well, do you have any fruit?” Sylvan asked and got up to look around the small food prep area. He came back with a bunch of the little purplish red, juicy globules Earth people called “grapes” and handed them to Asher. “Here—try these.”

  Asher picked off one of the grapes and held it out to the small creature. The chewchie took it from his fingers, examined it for a moment, then popped the whole thing into its mouth at once.

  “Wait—you’ll choke yourself!” Asher protested. The grape had been a large one and the chewchie was tiny. It was as though he himself had tried to eat an entire cantaloupe or honeydew melon in one bite.

  He got a distinct feeling of disdain—as though he didn’t know what he was talking about and ought to mind his own business. Which was very odd. Could the feeling be coming from the chewchie? Because Asher certainly would never think such a thing about himself—would he? But the idea that the chewchie could be sending him feelings seemed far-fetched and preposterous.

  This momentary confusion was followed by a feeling of intense pleasure and delight, exactly when the chewchie bit into the large grape it had shoved in its mouth. Asher was suddenly flooded with the feeling that he was eating the most delicious thing in the universe—a total surprise since, while he had enjoyed the grapes, which he had bought to try when he was studying up on Earth culture—he hadn’t thought they were the best food ever.

  What’s going on? Where are these feelings coming from? he wondered, still staring at the chewing chewchie.

  “It says here that your chewchie will be very tired after hatching,” Sylvan reported—he was still scanning the scroll of instructions. “Please allow it to sleep as long as it wants and give it some time before you expect it to send and receive messages.”

  Asher frowned. “Do they think I would send it out in a strange ship with a message tied to its neck the moment after it hatched?” Of course, it was possible that was exactly what might happen on Helios Beta where chewchies were so prevalent, but he was certainly not going to do any such thing to the creature entrusted to his care.

  An image of the pink speckled egg formed in his mind again, only this time the shell was broken and a furry pink chewchie was sitting beside it. A feeling of longing filled him at this image—an emotion so deep and lonesome it made him catch his breath and his eyes burned as though he was about to weep.

  “Commander Asher, are you all right?” Sylvan looked up at him, clearly concerned.

  “I…I’m fine.” Asher swallowed hard, trying to push the strange emotion away. Was it coming from the chewchie? Or was it simply his own feeling of loss for Lisa?

  Don’t be foolish, he told himself firmly. She’s better off without you—get over it!

  “I’m perfectly fine,” he said again, looking away from the little creature.

  “Well…” Sylvan sighed and stood up from the table. “I have been away from my own family for too long, Sophia will be wanting me to come back for our annual reading of “T’was the Night Before Christmas” to our twins and the ritual of setting out milk and cookies for Santa.”

  “Wait—you observe the Earth holiday too?” Asher asked, frowning.

  Sylvan shrugged. “I would say that nearly all the mated Kindred on the Mother Ship do in one way or another. It pleases our mates—they love observing ‘Christmas traditions.’”

  Asher remembered that Dru had told him much the same thing.

  “So…you say you leave out eatables and drink for Satan Claus on this night?” he asked.

  “That’s Santa Claus,” Sylvan corrected him. “And yes, the idea is that the children leave sweet treats for Santa since he is going to bring them presents.”

  “Or maybe as a bribe—so that they do not receive dirty lumps of carbon instead,” Asher suggested.

  Sylvan frowned. “I think you ought to study more about the holiday—you clearly haven’t quite grasped it yet.”

  Asher sighed. “I have no need to grasp it as I have no Earth bride to please.”

  “That,” Sylvan said, frowning, “Is perhaps your own fault. I won’t presume to tell you your business but if I were you, I would reconsider pushing away the fated mate the Goddess has put in your path.”

  And with that, he left, leaving Asher alone with the chewchie, which had eaten three more grapes and then promptly curled up on the pillow where its egg had been and gone to sleep.

  Forty-Five

  The Christmas movie marathon lasted all day and into the night. Lisa ate anothe
r Lean Cuisine for dinner—being careful not to wake the still-napping Isabel—and began to think about going to sleep herself.

  Tomorrow was going to be a lonesome Christmas, she thought with a sigh. Though perhaps not quite as terrible as she’d been thinking. At least she had the little chewchie to keep her company.

  She thought about calling her mom just to talk, but she knew better than to bother. Her mom had probably been drinking since nine in the morning to “celebrate” and she was surely three sheets to the wind by now. Hearing her slurring and mumbling on the other end of the line would only make Lisa feel worse than she already did.

  She was slumped on the sagging couch, watching A Christmas Story for what had to be the third time, when her eyelids started drooping. The narrator was talking about “the triple dog dare you bet” and Lisa had her earbuds in, half listening to music and half watching the fuzzy old TV screen as Ralphie and his friends bet each other to lick the frozen flagpole.

  And so it was, that she didn’t hear the quiet jiggling of the lock or the sound of her front door creaking open.

  Asher was having a terrible dream. Lisa was somewhere dark—alone and unprotected—and someone was sneaking into her domicile. Someone who wanted to do her harm.

  At first he thought it was just Satan Claus—or was it Santa Claus?—coming in to leave her presents. It was, after all, the eve of the Earth holiday they all practiced. So maybe the intruder was the mythical man in his furry red suit.

  But even in the dream he knew that wasn’t true. It was someone else who was coming into Lisa’s home, intending to hurt her—maybe even kill her.

  Run! he wanted to shout at her. He’s getting closer—run, Lisa—get away!

  But he couldn’t say a word—could only watch as the shadowy figure got closer and closer to where she lay, sleeping and unprotected…

  “Awake, warrior! Will you not listen to the warning you have been given?”

  The powerful female voice roused him at last from the dream. Asher sat up suddenly, in a cold sweat. The voice was not repeated but it still rang in his head.

  He swung his legs over the side of the sleeping platform and put his head in his hands. What a nightmare! And it had seemed so real. It had almost seemed as though he was watching Lisa about to be attacked by someone who hated her—maybe even her ex-mate, who she had run from. But that wasn’t possible, was it? After all, she was still here on the Mother Ship—wasn’t she?

  He started to run his fingers through his hair and was stopped by a sharp pain on his knuckle.

  “Ouch! What in the Seven Hells?” he growled. Bringing his hand down, he saw that the fluffy gray chewchie was clinging to his hand, a fierce light in its dark eyes. It had bitten him and now it was glaring at him as though it was angry for some reason.

  “What was that for?” Asher asked it, exasperated. So far he couldn’t understand the intense appeal the little creatures seemed to hold for the Chorkays. He had taken its egg because he couldn’t refuse it, and now he was responsible for the animal. Still, he hadn’t agreed to take an animal that would bite him at the least provocation!

  He sighed. Maybe it was his fault. Maybe he hadn’t bonded with it properly. But the high priest had said that might be difficult since he and Lisa were full grown already and the Chorkays apparently got their own chewchies when they were just children. They—

  “Gruff! Gruff-gruff!”

  The sharp little noise pulled him out of his thoughts and he looked down to see that the chewchie was glaring at him again. As he stared into its eyes, Asher once more seemed to see the scene that had been in his dream—Lisa asleep and helpless somewhere while someone who wanted to harm her crept up.

  Suddenly the scene changed. The dark figure put a hand over Lisa’s mouth to stop her from screaming and leaned in close to whisper in her ear.

  “Lisa, my dear?” he said in a cold voice. “Do wake up.”

  Lisa’s eyes flew open and she gasped behind the man’s hand and began to struggle. But he was too strong for her and threw himself across her body, smiling down at her.

  “At last, I’ve found you, darling,” he said, in a low, unpleasant voice. “And just in time for Christmas.”

  Forty-Six

  Asher shook his head and reached for the Think-me—a thin golden wire useful for telepathic communication. He sent a request to Commander Sylvan and waited for an anxious moment until the other male answered.

  “Commander Sylvan, I’m so sorry to bespeak you this late on the eve of a holiday,” he began when he felt the other male’s mind touch his. “But can you please tell me where Lisa is quartered in the Mother Ship? I very much need to speak to her.”

  “The Mother Ship? She’s not on the Mother Ship,” Sylvan sent back, sounding bewildered. “My brother, Baird, flew her back down to Earth not even an hour after the two of you disembarked from your mission.”

  “What?” Asher felt sick. “But she has an abusive ex-mate who may be looking for her. Why did you not tell me she had left the Mother Ship earlier?”

  “I thought you knew,” Sylvan sent. “Sophia and her friends tried to get her to stay but she was insistent about leaving. Is there a problem?”

  “I don’t know,” Asher sent back. “I have had a…most disturbing dream about her. He shook his head. “Perhaps it was just a nightmare. Ouch!”

  “What happened?” Sylvan sent anxiously.

  “The damn chewchie—it bit me—again.”

  Asher looked down at the little creature in irritation. It had nipped the tip of his index finger sharply—in fact, there was blood welling up. The damn thing had really bitten him hard.

  “That’s enough of that,” he told it aloud, glaring at it. “If you bite me again I’ll—”

  The chewchie opened its mouth but instead of squeaking or howling, a voice came out—a familiar voice, in fact.

  Lisa’s voice.

  “Help me!” it whispered, as though it couldn’t get enough breath and he saw a picture in his mind of the attacker choking Lisa, cutting off her air with one meaty hand. “Help me, please!”

  “My Goddess—-how did you do that?” Asher exclaimed, staring down at the chewchie. “And is it true?”

  “Is what true?” he heard Sylvan ask in his head and realized they were still connected.

  “The chewchie seems to be sending me a message,” Asher confessed. “I know that sounds odd but it seems to be sending me pictures of Lisa in danger and just now it… it spoke with her voice. But how can that be?” He shook his head again. “I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

  “No, you’re not!” Sylvan sounded excited. “The Chorkays’ method of long-distance communication—these creatures might be it. Don’t you see, Asher—her chewchie must have hatched too, and now it’s sending a message to yours.”

  Asher felt sick. If that was true, he might have just seen the woman he loved murdered in front of his eyes—or through the eyes of the little gray chewchie which was still glaring at him angrily.

  “Gruff!” it barked in its high-pitched, angry little voice. “Gruff-gruff!”

  Only now Asher seemed to hear the sounds in his head as words and they were saying, “Now! Hurry—danger!”

  “I need Lisa’s coordinates,” he sent to Sylvan as he got up and began pulling on his clothes. “Now! I think she’s in danger!”

  “I’ll have Baird bespeak you with them,” Sylvan sent back.

  “Good—I’m on my way to the Docking Bay now.”

  Asher ran out the door of his suite, tucking his laser knife

  and his blaster into his pockets, barely noticing as he went that the smoky gray chewchie was clinging to his shoulder. He had to get to Lisa before it was too late.

  If it wasn’t already.

  Forty-Seven

  Lisa gasped in terror as the cold hand squeezed tighter around her throat.

  “Well, my dear, so at last I found you,” a familiar voice breathed in her ear. With it came the heavy scent of Scotch and L
isa didn’t even have to look to know who her attacker was.

  “Please…Cameron,” she choked out, trying to speak past the constricting hand around her throat. “Please, can’t…can’t breathe. You…you’re scaring me!”

  “Well, isn’t that too bad,” he snarled in her face, his own face doughy and contorted with rage in the dim light from the TV. “Do you know how long I’ve been looking for you, Lisa? Do you, you little bitch?” He squeezed tighter. “Maybe you deserve to be as frightened as I was when I came home from work and found you gone six…months…ago!”

  With each word he lifted her by her throat and slammed her head against the arm of the couch. Luckily, there was enough padding to keep her from being cut or completely knocked out, but Lisa began to feel sick and dizzy.

  If he keeps this up, I’m going to pass out, she thought woozily. And if I pass out, I can’t talk him out of killing me…

  “Help me!” she gasped but the words came out in a whisper, since Cameron was still cutting off her air. “Help me, please!”

  Suddenly there was a high, unearthly screeching sound and something small and fluffy flew at Cameron’s distorted face. It was Isabel, Lisa saw—in her terror she had completely forgotten about the chewchie but now her tiny companion was fighting for her life, though Lisa’s ex husband was as big as a mountain compared to the little creature.

  “Isabel, no!” she cried but the chewchie didn’t seem to hear her. She was scratching madly at Cameron’s eyes and he was bellowing and beating at her with his ham-sized fists, trying to kill whatever was on his face.

  Lisa watched, her heart in her mouth. If he landed even a single blow it would no doubt kill the fragile chewchie.

  But Isabel seemed to be excellent at avoiding Cameron’s drunken swatting and punching. Every time his hand fell, she hopped out of the way just in time and the blow landed on his own face instead. It was an amazing sight—but how long could Isabel keep it up?