She cowered away from the cornstalks where the old man had first appeared. “It made the bonedogs attack us. It hates me and I don’t know why.”
He stared at her for a long moment. “It is darkness… if it exists. Darkness does not need a reason to hate.”
“Now you sound like a chamán.”
“When we found you”—Den brushed the hair out of her eyes—”you were weak and scared.”
Althea tried not to remember the feeling of metal locked around her ankle. Perhaps the sentience made her see it, but her mind jumped right back to when a band of marauders had kept her tethered by a chain to a peg in the ground at the center of their camp. Nalu, Den, Palik, and a large party of Seekers from the tribe had hunted them down to repay an ambush. As always, she prepared herself to change owners. Althea rubbed her right bicep, where Nalu’s hand had squeezed when he’d shoved her into the cage. The same cage they’d dragged her back to the village in.
“Palik wanted to kill me.”
Den tightened his arm around her back. “He thinks himself bigger than he is. He will never be a true chamán. He was jealous.”
“You saved me from them, and you made the happy with Braga, and he let me out of the cage.”
He stroked her hair. “You are not the same frightened girl. No one knew you had such magic. Why did you let people take you?”
She rested her cheek on his shoulder and swished her right foot back and forth in the grass. “I had the scared. Mystics who can take people’s minds are burned. I had the stupid too.” She scratched at an itch on her left shin, displacing a small beetle. “It took me long to learn I should protect myself.”
“You do not need me to protect you.” He spun a dandelion around between his fingers. “You protected me. I am the wife.”
Althea put a hand on his heart, staring into his eyes. “You did protect me… That man would have hit me with his sword if you didn’t get in the way. You saved my life.”
He stared down. “I stole time. I’m only good enough to get killed in one swing.”
She leaned up on her knees and bent closer, touching foreheads. “I was touching that woman’s life-shapes. I did not see him. You”—she raised her head, making eye contact—”saved me.”
Den gazed into her eyes for a second before looking down. “Anyone can jump on a sword. I should be able to protect you.”
She lowered herself back to sit at his side but left her arm around his back. “You can protect me when it is not the…” Her brow furrowed as she tried to work out the English word. “Sentience.”
“What is a sen-shints?”
“The Many. The ghost woman called it a sentience.” Althea frowned. “She made me do the saying again and again till I saids it right.”
“I wanna kill it because it tried to hurt you.”
“You can’t. No one can. It isn’t a man.” She sat up straight. “You can’t kill hate with hate. Make stronger, only. Strong does not matter with psionic.”
“Psionic?” He cocked an eyebrow.
“The magic. The ghost woman said it was named psionic.” She raspberried at nothing in particular. “Made me do the saying of that a lot too.”
Den thumped himself in the chest with a fist. “I am a warrior. I must protect my wife.”
She gave him a fearful look, not convinced that being wifed could be anything other than horrible. Images of raiders dragging screaming women away for wifeing came and went in her memory, followed by the aftermath: bruises, bleeding, and crying. She would never let anyone do that to her… even Den.
Althea pondered for a minute. Felipe and Luisa must have done the wifeing as they had a baby. Luisa loved him. None of the slaves she had seen wifed loved the raiders. Of course, none of the raiders had ever touched lips with those women the way Den had with her. Althea didn’t understand, nor did she much care to ask why he did that—it felt too strange.
Althea pulled her hair back over her shoulders. “You can protect me from not psionics and not the sentience.”
“Why can’t I protect you from psionics?” He tickled her side.
She squirmed, giggling. “’Cause, mystics… umm, psionics don’t care ‘bout strong.”
“I think they do.”
“Nuh-uh,” she said, in a singsong.
He sighed. “You want me to feel better, but you are wrong.”
“Dance,” said Althea, her eyes flickering brighter for an instant.
Den clambered upright and hopped around in a circle, acting like a chamán trying to summon wind and rain. He glared at her, unable to stop his body from obeying her psionic command.
Althea planted her elbows on her knees and rested her chin in her palms. “Psionic don’t care about strong.”
He grunted and growled for about two minutes until the effect wore off. Den looked furious, but she sensed playfulness in his heart. With a wild roar, he ran at her. Althea leapt to her feet and sprinted off giggling, hiking her dress up to open her stride. She weaved among the thin citrus trees and raced toward the corn stalks.
“You better run!” he yelled, stifling a laugh. “When I get a hold of you…”
She darted left, finding the warm, wet grass slippery under bare feet. Waving one arm to keep her balance on a turn, she jumped a low-lying irrigation pipe. He cleared it with ease, pushing himself until he closed within a few paces. After a quick glance over her shoulder, she bounded between rows of corn, arms raised to shield her face from whipping leaves. In another eight strides, she made a sudden swerve that brought her back to open grass. Den overshot and almost fell.
“You’re gonna get it.” He grumbled.
They ran in a wide arc around the clearing at the center of the garden dome. Althea giggled as she found it easy to stay ahead of him. Eventually, his intermittent ‘threats’ lost steam. Frustration emanated from him. She peeked over her shoulder, finding his face a mask of grim determination. Althea grinned at the sudden idea perhaps she should let him catch her. She took a few more strides before swerving left and heading for the edge of the orange grove. In the middle of the open field, she ‘tripped’ and slid. Den pounced, and they rolled over each other a few times. Althea wound up on her back, hair splayed in the grass, with Den on top of her. She bit her lip, not sure what to make of the way his smile made her feel.
He tried to hide his fatigue, but sweat gathered at the tip of his nose. “You’re not… even breathing hard.”
“You are big and heavy, and I run a lot.”
“Heavy?” He attacked her sides, tickling.
Althea squealed and squirmed, unable to get away from him without boosting her strength. She grabbed at his arms, gasping pleas to stop between peals of laughter. After a moment, he let her up and flashed a weary smile. She lay still in the grass, her hands dangled over her chest like a duck with two broken wings, and tried to breathe between lingering giggles.
“Sorry.” He smiled. “I shouldn’t be jealous of your magic.”
Laughter eased to a broad grin. “I know you like me.” She let her arms flop to the side. “You left your home to find me.”
He reached over, lifting the green agate arrowhead pendant from her chest. They both stared at the light glinting off the rough facets.
“I told you I would find you.” He rubbed his thumb over it and let it fall. “I’d do it again.”
“When a Seeker gives such a thing to a girl…” Althea bit her lip, nervousness rising. “You want to wife me?”
He plucked a dandelion from nearby and tucked it behind her left ear. “Your father said he would throw me off the wall if I asked you to marry before you had sixteen birthdays.”
She cocked her head at him, eyebrows together. “I only have one.”
Den laughed. “No, I mean your birthday has gone by that many times.”
“Oh.” She smiled at a passing butterfly. “Karina is sixteen.”
“It is good to see you happy.”
She squeezed his hand. “I am sorry you leaved yo
ur family.”
He rolled on his side, facing her. “Braga was angry when I refused Yala. He demanded I take her as a wife or I would be cast out.”
Gloom enshrouded him.
She propped herself up on her elbows. “You are sad for leaving.”
“No.” He twirled another dandelion between his fingers. “That is from when I thought I would never see you again.”
“I am glad you found me.” Althea twirled a bit of hair around a finger, wondering if he would want to do the lip-touching thing again.
Her smile proved contagious.
Den grinned. “I hope you will feel the same in five years.”
She poked him in the side. “I’m twel—” A sigh escaped her. She’d spent a long time thinking herself twelve years old, but the ‘corporate’ people who tried to trick her into going with them believed she’d been born eleven years ago. It annoyed her that they didn’t know anything about her mother despite hunting the pair of them for years. Though, they could’ve been lied to. Just because they believed it didn’t make it true. “What if I’m twelve? Five years is seventeen.”
He held his hands up. “Your father said five years, or I get thrown off the wall.”
Althea grumbled. Five years was a long time, almost the same amount of time she had spent a captive. As best she could remember, she’d been six when the Wagon Man took her from the village by the lake, but she might’ve been five. She glanced at the arrowhead, its weight upon her chest minuscule but noticeable, wondering how five years of freedom would change her. Again, she thought of Karina suggesting she’d want to share a bed with a boy.
“Bleh.”
“What?”
As she opened her mouth to say ‘nothing,’ a rustle in the cornstalks made her whip her head about with a gasp. Den sat up, following her gaze.
Something moved in the plants. Her old feral instincts kicked in; she flipped over onto her hands and the balls of her feet, ready to hide or sprint. She did not sense the presence of the Many but crept backward nonetheless.
“Be calm.” Den put a hand on her shoulder. “One of the goats probably got out of the pen.”
Althea glanced at him for an instant, but startled again at the noise in the leaves. To make him feel better, she shrank behind him, her body language asking for protection.
Den jumped up. “Wait here.”
She grabbed his leg with both hands. “Don’t.”
When he kept walking, she scrambled upright and followed. He drew a ten-inch knife from his belt and held it to the side.
“Who’s there?” yelled Den.
Aurora emerged from the cornstalks, wearing a skirt and skimpy top made of leaves. She sauntered closer, her expression neutral. Den raised the knife, pointing it at her.
Althea grasped his arm and pulled it down, clinging. “No, she is not a danger.”
“Hello, Althea. This must be Den.” She winked. “Sorry for scaring you, but it took me a moment to work these things into a garment. I didn’t want to give the poor boy a blood imbalance, and I’m sure you prefer this to me wearing him.”
He leaned back. “I hear her speak, but she is not speaking.”
“She speaks psionic.” Althea looked back and forth between them. “What? Why would you hurt his blood?”
“Oh, my… you are so precious.” Aurora laughed. “I meant all his blood would rush to one particular place.”
She scrunched up her nose. “Huh?”
Den shifted his weight into a combat stance. “I hear her voice but her lips do not move… is this a spirit?”
“She just does that,” whispered Althea.
“Is someone hurt?” Althea frowned at the grass. “Do you need me to go to the bad city again?”
“No, child. Not yet.”
Althea exhaled with relief.
“The police will ask you to help them.” Aurora paced a circle around them. “They will want to take you into the city.”
She shivered; tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. Den grasped Althea’s hand.
Aurora stopped in front of her. “If you do not help them, a great many innocent people will die. The police will not make you stay there.”
“Okay.” Althea gazed at the ground, crying in silence. “I will help.”
“Oh, Althea.” Aurora ran a hand over her head. “Why are you crying?”
“I don’t like the city. Everyone there is bad.”
“If they’re all evil, let them die,” said Den.
“They are not all evil.” Aurora’s voice took on a soothing tone. “It is a different life they lead. Jobs, worries about money. They are all in a hurry, and don’t have time to care about a person they don’t know.”
“What will kill them? How can Althea stop it?” Den edged in front of her, shielding her from the strange woman.
“Evil,” said Aurora. “Althea’s presence is necessary to prevent millions of people from dying.”
“Is that more than a hundred?” asked Den.
“Quite.” Aurora smiled.
Den put his knife away, pulled Althea into an embrace, and glared at Aurora. “Will she be hurt?”
Aurora gazed at the dome, her attention diverted for a little while by a swirling mass of sparrows congregating at a hole. “It is difficult for me to know such things for sure. I have not yet seen anything that would make me believe so, but there are no guarantees.”
“What is garan-tees?” asked Althea.
“Promises. I cannot promise that you will not be hurt.” A momentary bit of sadness took Aurora. “Or even killed. I do know you are crucial to saving a great many innocent people from the folly of an idiot.”
“Archon?” Althea glared at the corn. “Asshole.”
Aurora giggled. “Indeed, though this is not entirely his fault.”
“Okay.” Althea pulled away from Den, balled her hands into fists, and took a deep breath. “I will go when they ask.”
The solemn look on Althea’s face brought the woman to tears. She went to one knee and took her hand. “You are unlike anyone I have ever known. So selfless. You do not deserve the life you’ve been given.”
Althea looked down. Something stirred deep within her, and her sadness evaporated. “The Sentience. It is him. I do not have sad for my life. I have met Karina and Father and Den. If my life was different, I would not have known them, and I would not be here to help Querq.”
“You’re infectious.” Aurora dropped her hand and stood. “Kim was asking after you. She couldn’t believe you distrusted Archon.”
“She likes pancakes.” Althea hoped the nice girl hadn’t gotten in trouble because of her. “I drank the syrup and she laughed. Is she okay?”
“Yes, she is fine.” Aurora smiled. “You’ve gotten her doubting him too.”
“I don’t want him to die either”—Althea stomped—”Tell him to stop.”
Aurora’s body imploded in a cloud of fog, leaving her leaf-garments hanging in midair for a second before they dropped. Her voice echoed from thin air. “You’ve already seen how well the bloke listens to me.”
The pair stood in silence for a moment, staring down at the leaves. Althea took Den’s hand and pulled him along behind her as she crossed the field toward the way out. Warm, wet moss squidged under her feet upon the sidewalk, the slimy layer giving way to the coarseness of stone beneath it.
He jogged to keep up. “Where are you going?”
“Home. I want to be with my family for as much as I can.”
23
Defenseless
Aaron
A wall of old vertical blinds tinted the late morning sun to a soft, orange-tan glow. Aaron laced his fingers behind his head, finding the bed of sofa cushions quite comfortable given his expectations. His new arrangements made the blown-out Comforgel pad in his last place seem like the block of gummy snot it was.
No wonder Darwin didn’t use it.
Weight shifted over the grey-blue drop ceiling tiles as something crawled overhead.
From the sound of it, the critter could’ve been the size of a five-year-old child.
“Oi, who’s there?”
The motion ceased.
“S’awright, not in any trouble.”
After a moment, motion resumed.
I suppose I should get used to rats in the walls. Little bugger might not speak English.
Without a set schedule, Aaron felt no great urgency to get out of bed. If he got up, he’d feel the need to confront Melissa about her parents. He wasn’t sure what he dreaded more, having to destroy a teenaged girl’s image of her savior and hero, or dealing with Archon if she decided to race home to the family she obviously wanted. Not moving offered a much easier and far more appealing option.
He closed his eyes. “Bugger me.”
“I rather lack the appropriate equipment,” said Aurora. “If you really want, I suppose I could put on a—”
“Please don’t finish that sentence.”
“So what are you doing this morning?” The sound of her voice circled from behind him, near the window, around to his feet.
“I’ve set myself to the task of setting a new record for extreme sofa-cushion surfing. I’m also multitasking with some procrastination.”
Her voice kept circling, approaching his head. “You can open your eyes, you know.”
“That would involve effort. Besides, you’re naked, aren’t you?”
“There’s no need to be polite on my behalf.” She sounded as though she knelt right over him. “It doesn’t bother me if you stare.”
“What if it bothers me?”
“You fancy men?”
Aaron opened his eyes. Sure enough, a large pair of snow-white breasts dangled over his face. “Look, they’re very nice. Lovely actually, but I know you’re not here to ‘ave a shag.”
She sat back on her heels and pulled her hair behind one ear. “You’re a grump today. Perhaps I can cheer you up.”
“Still not interested.” He closed his eyes again.
“Not like that. Now who’s the one with dirty thoughts? Get up, twit. You need to get upstairs to the executive office right away.”
Angel Descended (The Awakened Book 6) Page 26
