Stolen By The Cursed Alien

by Roxie Ray

  “Oh, I don't. But when you were putting the translator in place, your fingertips brushed against my skin, and I saw your thoughts for a second. Sorry, I wasn't trying to pry… it's not something I have much control over.”

  The healer frowned. “Curious. So you are a seer, then?”

  “I guess you could put it that way? I get senses, images… things that have happened, things that might happen, things people are thinking or feeling. Usually through touch, but lately, it's been getting a lot stronger. Just being in a certain room or space can sometimes trigger it.”

  “Akzun knows this already,” I said, “but naturally, we're doing our best to keep too many others from finding out. If word got out that there was a powerful clairvoyant up for grabs, and a human one at that…”

  “…then everyone from the Mana to the Krote to the Drekkir would come looking for her, so they could study her, use her as a living weapon, or both. Yes, I'm not an idiot. I can keep my mouth shut.” Khim eyed Miranda, intrigued. “From what you've told me, you might just be one of the most naturally-gifted beings in the galaxy. Seeing the past and future without the aid of spells or enchanted artifacts? To my knowledge, only Respen himself has such talents.”

  A shadow passed over Miranda's face.

  “What is it?” I asked her.

  “Nothing, it's just… Respen again. First you tell me about how he cursed you, and then I felt his presence on the Wrath after he spoke to you… and I felt… some kind of crazy connection to him, you know? More than I usually get when I have visions of people. Like I knew him from somewhere, even before I got abducted. I mean, this can't just be some huge set of coincidences, can it?”

  “Coincidences happen,” Khim said slowly. “The universe is full of coincidences. But that doesn't necessarily mean I trust in them. You may be right, girl. There could be far more transpiring around us than we are capable of recognizing at the moment – after all, we are but threads in a tapestry, and few of us are able to see the grand design we are part of. At any rate, much as I would like to stand around philosophizing all day, I was sent to examine Zark, and so I must. You may remain, if you wish.”

  For the next hour, Khim touched me with gemstones, painted runes on various parts of my body with sacred inks, and chanted dozens of different spells. Miranda stood in the corner, watching apprehensively.

  Finally, Khim stood back and sighed heavily. “I'm afraid it's no use. Whatever curse Respen put on you, I am unable to even detect it, let alone remove it. I consider myself a rather gifted healer, but I'm no sorcerer. I am sorry I've failed you, Zark.”

  “There's no need to apologize, Khim. You tried your best. I'll simply have to lift the curse myself by locating the book. Thankfully, I've got Miranda to assist me with that.” I turned to her, buttoning my tunic. As I did, I felt a peculiar agony settling deep into the bones of my hands – sharp and grinding, like shards of glass.

  There was a knock at the door, and Dhako entered, clearing his throat. “Prince Zark: Your agents have uncovered the location of Torqa's primary place of residence. I have the address for you.”

  I tried to push the pain aside, adopting a cheerful tone. “Shall we visit Torqa's humble abode, then? If she owned any plants, they could probably use a good watering by now.”

  Miranda nodded – but I could tell that she saw through my act, and recognized how much pain I was in.

  I hopped off the bed, ignoring the fact that the same horrible grinding sensation was in my knees as well. It was all I could do not to limp.

  Was this the onset of the anguish Respen had threatened me with?

  I have to stay strong. One way or another, I have to see this through.

  I arranged for transport to the Bru'Hai Quarter, one of Kor Püskla's oldest and most respectable neighborhoods, where Torqa had apparently kept her primary apartment. She'd probably had even more safe houses and bolt holes around town than our intelligence had been aware of, but since this was the one she'd spent the most time in, as far as I knew, it seemed like the best place to start – and the most likely place she would have kept something as valuable as the book.

  A pair of guards stood outside the apartment, and I nodded to them as we entered. They'd been stationed there on the off chance that Torqa might try to return for whatever reason – an unlikely scenario, to be sure, but better to be safe than not.

  The place was utterly trashed – drawers pulled open, upholstery slashed, clothes and personal items strewn across the floor. Clearly, she'd left in a hurry after her treachery had been discovered.

  I turned to Miranda, and saw that she was looking at me strangely.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked, rubbing my aching hands together. Sweet Succubi, this pain was getting more intense by the second!

  “I'm not sure.” Her tone was flat, difficult to read. “Before I start going through the place, is there anything you want to tell me? Anything I don't already know?”

  My heart dropped into my stomach. Since I’d never been to these rooms, Miranda wouldn’t be seeing any direct impressions of us, but if Torqa had spent enough time remembering… who knew what she would see. So, was there anything I wanted to tell her? No. But obviously, her abilities had already shown her what I'd hoped I wouldn't have to say out loud – and now I had no choice but to simply summon my courage and get it over with.

  “Yes. Torqa and I had… a physical relationship. We weren't mates. It was simply a matter of mutual attraction and respect… or at least, I thought it was. In retrospect, she'd probably just been using me all along.”

  Miranda nodded curtly. “Thank you. I know admitting that wasn't easy for you. I'm just… not much looking forward to the impressions I'll probably be getting.”

  And with that, she started to wander around the apartment. Her steps looked aimless, but from the look in her eyes, I could see that she was following the visions, trying to make sense of them. When her gaze fell on the bed, she grimaced, squinting until her eyes were almost entirely shut.

  I couldn't blame her. I knew the afterimages she was probably seeing there – and wishing she didn't have to. All the nights I’d spent with Torqa as we drank and laughed and fucked and made grand plans for the future of the Valkred Empire.

  I fervently wished I could take them all back, if only to spare Miranda these visions now.

  Just as Miranda walked past a closet, she paused, peering into it.

  “Do you see something?” I asked hopefully.

  “Yes.” There was a chilling edge to her voice, as though she wasn't just speaking for herself, but the vastness of the entire cosmos. My joints stung and spasmed again, and I tried not to wince.

  “What is it?”

  She exhaled slowly. When she spoke again, her words almost seemed to echo, like someone – or something – else was speaking through her. “I see Yuluna. I see Torqa, taking the book. I see Respen… watching her take it.”

  “You mean he watched her take the book? He didn't stop her? Why?”

  Her eyes fluttered, rolling up in her head. “Respen's… design… is not for us to know. Torqa brought the book here. She… hid it… in the ceiling tiles of this closet. When her betrayal was discovered, she came here for it before leaving the planet.”

  The expression on her face was frightening, haunting, as if she were possessed by some dreadful entity. I wanted to put a stop to this.

  But I couldn't. I needed to know more.

  My life depended on it.

  “Can you sense what she was thinking? What her plans were?”

  Miranda's head started twitching violently – side to side, back and forth, as though she were about to have a seizure. “Sives… Egone…” She paused, then said with finality, “Macur. Macur. A camp… in the… mountains…”

  Then she fell backward onto the floor, unconscious, blood trickling from her nose and ears.

  14

  Zark

  It took all of my strength to gather Miranda in my arms and carry her down to t
he street level. Thankfully, the guards stationed outside helped me get her into the transport – ordinarily, I'd have been more than strong enough to manage on my own, but my limbs were filled with searing pain. If the sentries noticed, they gave no sign.

  When we reached the Ruby Stronghold, I ordered the palace guards to bring her up to my room (taking care to sound imperious enough that they wouldn't question my reasons for not carrying her myself). Then I sent for Khim and waited by Miranda's side.

  The healer arrived soon, shaking her head. “Been pushing her a bit too hard, have we? Go stand out in the hall while I see to her. I don't want you getting in my way.”

  I sat on the smooth floor of the hall and waited – remembering a time, not too long ago, when I'd sat in the same spot next to Akzun while Khim tended to his mate's injuries.

  It's like the old Krote saying: “The more things change, the more they remain the same.” I massaged my knees in an attempt to lessen the pain.

  At one point, I thought I heard Miranda's voice – but I couldn't quite make out what she was saying.

  But at least Miranda was alive. If her injuries had been more severe, I don't know what I would have done. She was my mate… mine to protect to my last breath. I’d pushed her too hard, and now she was paying the consequences of it. All I wanted was to fix her, to make her be okay again, and it burned me up inside to sit here, waiting.

  Eventually, Khim emerged, closing the door behind her. “She requires rest, and lots of it. Her overuse of her abilities – at your behest, I might add – has caused a bleed in her brain. I've done all I can to repair the damage, and she should be fine when she wakes up. If she continues to strain herself this way, though, there's no telling what injuries will result, or whether I'll be able to heal them.”

  “Thank you.” I pulled myself off the floor, stifling a groan. It felt like someone was sticking daggers in all of my major joints, and in the small of my back, as well.

  Khim folded her arms. “You expressed concern about someone discovering that girl's abilities and using them for their own ends, yet you appear to be doing much the same – exploiting her, so she'll help you end the curse.”

  I sighed. “I wish there were another way, Khim. But I’ve already hunted down every trace of a lead I could scrounge up, and it all came up empty. At this point, she seems like my only hope.”

  Khim arched an eyebrow. “Do you not have the resources of an entire empire at your disposal? Hundreds of ships, tens of thousands of warriors? Why aren't you relying on them to hunt Torqa instead?”

  “First of all, Torqa helped design most of those ships, just as she trained most of those warriors. She practically wrote the book on our military operations.”

  “Then perhaps it's time to write a new one.”

  “It is, and we will. We simply haven't had time yet. We've still been recovering from our war with the Mana. What's more, she knows that. Whatever we throw at her in terms of conventional searches, attacks, and strategies, she'll be able to counter easily. And even if our forces were to successfully track her down – even if they prevailed against her in combat, which is highly unlikely – there's still the risk that she'd put them in a position of having to destroy her vessel, and Respen's book with it. I need that book in one piece, if I have any hope of getting him to lift the curse.”

  Khim stood silently for a long moment, then asked, “Does your brother know how bad it's gotten?”

  “How bad what's gotten?” Even as the words came out, the stabbing sensation in my back and body redoubled.

  “Come now, Zark. I'm a healer. The day I can no longer recognize pain – especially the severe pain you're clearly experiencing, and trying so hard to hide – is the day I am no longer worthy of that title.”

  “No. He doesn't know – it’s only just started. And I don't want him to. He's…”

  “… too busy running the empire and caring for his pregnant consort, and you don't want to distract him with your problems until you've had a chance to rectify them yourself, yes, yes,” she finished, exasperated. “You and Akzun. So stubborn. But he will see it for himself soon enough, if you don't find a way to resolve this. If your ailment continues to progress as it has been, you won't be able to stand or walk, much less go gallivanting across the galaxy in search of some book.”

  “Well, then what do you suggest, Khim?”

  She considered this for a moment, and then said, “Use her powers if you must, but use them sparingly. Think of her like the blaster you wear on your hip, Zark. It has a battery, and if that battery is drained on wasted shots, it will be dead and useless to you.”

  The image of Miranda – cold, motionless, used up, her eyes as dark and lifeless as the indicator on a spent weapon cartridge – sent a shudder through me. I couldn't bear the idea that my actions could lead to such a horrific outcome.

  Khim put a hand on my arm and continued, not unkindly: “Also, don't be so quick to dismiss the other resources at your command. Just because you cannot use them the way you once did doesn't make them useless. It simply means you must be more creative in your utilization of them. And you are not stupid, Zark, no matter what you've spent your whole life telling yourself. You are every bit the man, the warrior, the leader that your brother is. You need only find these traits within yourself, and recognize how to best put them to work for you.”

  And with that, she walked away, her robes rustling against the marble floor.

  I entered the bedchamber and saw that Miranda had fallen asleep again. Good. She deserved plenty of rest, after what I'd selfishly put her through.

  As I looked down at Miranda's face, I watched her eyelids twitch in her sleep. Was she dreaming of home? Of a simpler time, before she'd been assaulted by the sudden knowledge of alien empires and magic books? And if so, how could anyone possibly blame her? It wasn't fair that she'd been plucked from the comfortable familiarity of Earth and deposited in the middle of all this horror and insanity.

  In that moment, I desired more than anything to simply give it all up – to return her to Earth now, so she could live out the rest of her life in relative peace, where she would be safe and whole. Nothing was more important than Miranda’s safety, her freedom, her life.

  I opened the window and stepped out onto the ledge, trying to unfurl my wings so I could soar over the Stronghold and think it over – but they wouldn't extend. Instead, the agony from my back branched out through them, so suddenly and acutely that it took everything I had not to cry out.

  I couldn't even fly. This curse had taken that from me, too.

  Grimacing, I glanced over my shoulder at Miranda’s sleeping form. When she woke up and got her strength back – and not a moment sooner – we'd go to Macur. We'd make one final effort to see this through. I just had to hope that’s good enough.

  15

  Miranda

  I woke up groggy, unsure of how long I'd been asleep. The last thing I remembered was speaking with that healer Khim – then she told me to lie back and laid a small oval gemstone on my forehead, and everything faded into beautiful shades of purple and blue.

  God, trying to get a solid reading from Torqa's apartment had taken every ounce of strength I'd had – and it had still been barely enough to get anything useful.

  One word was still ringing in my brain like the echo of a heavy church bell: Macur.

  What the hell did that mean?

  I wasn't sure, but I knew this: It hadn't just been Torqa's presence I'd felt in that living space. Respen had been there, too – not in person, but his aura, his essence, had definitely been inhabiting the rooms while we were there. He was probably the reason it had been so arduous for me to read Torqa's afterimages and thoughts.

  Had he been blocking me? Even from hundreds of light years away?

  I supposed it was possible. From what everyone said, he was one of the most powerful beings in the galaxy. But even so, why would he be actively trying to sabotage Zark's efforts to find the book and lift the curse? Malice?
Sadism? Somehow, those motivations didn't seem quite right… and besides, he wanted the book back.

  Didn't he?

  I sighed, putting my face in my hands.

  On Earth, I'd been an aspiring musician, a singer. I'd saved every spare cent I had to make a demo. I'd shopped it around to bars, clubs, local radio stations, and anyone I knew who might have even the most tenuous connection to the music industry. I was so desperate to leave my lower-class life behind – to not have to fight and scrape and starve just to make it through every day, to not be ignored by richer people when I walked down the street, to not have to wake up every morning dreading whatever dead-end job was waiting for me when I got out of bed.

  Most of my attempts at using my demo to get noticed failed miserably. The owners of the radio stations demanded bribes to play my songs – bribes I couldn't afford, naturally. The people who booked bands for the bars and clubs expected sexual favors, and I wasn't prepared to do that. I needed to know that any success I achieved was on my own merits, not just because I was a good lay. And most of my friends who worked in the industry were too low-level to convince anyone important enough to listen to my music.

  But then, I'd caught a break. A tiny one, sure, but still.

  I worked part-time as a trainer at a fitness boutique that was mostly for upper-class housewives trying to lose weight and stay toned after having kids. I'd struck up a casual friendship with one of my clients – Ginger, a professional dancer. When I mentioned that I was trying to make it as a singer, she asked to listen to my demo, and she'd been very impressed by it. She promised to play it for a few of the choreographers and music promoters she knew, and said she'd get back to me the following week during our regular session.

  For the next six days, I'd barely been able to eat or get any sleep. When I wasn't working, all I could do was pace around my shitty studio apartment – imagining what success would be like, chiding myself for getting my hopes up when my chances were so slim, then imagining success again anyway.