Stealing Her Heart: A Kindred Tales Novel (Brides of the Kindred)

by Evangeline Anderson

  No wonder it had tasted meaty.

  Vicky’s stomach rolled and for a moment, she was sure she was going to be sick. But she couldn’t do that, she reminded herself. She was supposed to be making a good impression and puking up the bug stuffed pastry she’d just eaten wasn’t going to do that. In fact, it was likely to mortally offend their hostess.

  Get a grip, she told herself sternly as she placed the bug-bun back on her plate and looked pointedly away from it. Just get a grip, Vicky. Hang in there—you can do this!

  This mental pep talk helped a little and Vicky felt her stomach settled just the tiniest bit. But she was determined to be more careful with the next dish. Whatever it was, she was going to cut it open before she took a bite, that was for sure!

  The next dish, however, wasn’t cuttable—not unless you were really fast with a knife, Vicky thought in dismay as she saw what fizzed into existence on the plate in front of her.

  “This coin-sized cake is sweetened with the sap of the Xao tree and served using the long-legged tushings which live and hunt upon its bark,” Professor Lorhan said. “The tushings are trained to run right up one’s body and place the cake inside the eater’s mouth. Truly, it is a remarkable accomplishment on behalf of the cake-artisans.”

  On Vicky’s plate, a huge hairy, purple and black spider with a leg-span that was bigger than the plate itself suddenly appeared and rushed towards her. On its hairy back was a small white cake but Vicky was not paying attention to the “prandial delights” Professor Lornah had spoken of earlier. She let out a terrified squeak and shoved her chair back from the table as fast as she could.

  The enormous purple spider with the cake on its hairy back ran right up to the edge of the table. Then it lifted the cake and raised it with it’s two front legs— which ended in sharp-looking pincers—as though offering it to Vicky.

  “It’s all r-right,” Lorn hissed beside her. “It j-just wants to run up and p-put the c-cake in your m-mouth. Just let it, Professor Victoria.”

  “Let a giant spider jump on me and crawl all the way up to my face?” Vicky asked, her voice sounding tight in her own ears. “I don’t think so. No freaking thanks.”

  Though she spoke to Professor Lornah’s student, her eyes remained glued to the spider. No way did she want that thing anywhere near her! But it didn’t look likely to give up on its quest to deliver its prandial package.

  The black and purple spider was poised there on the edge of the table, holding up the cake in its front legs. It was bouncing slowly up and down, reminding her of a cat with a lashing tail getting ready to pounce. Apparently it was planning to jump into Vicky’s lap and run right up her body to shove the cake in her mouth with its hairy pinchers. And Vicky—who had once talked down a student with a gun and had been teaching surly teenagers for years—was frozen in fear.

  If there was one thing she really didn’t like, it was bugs—especially spiders.

  If it jumps on me, she thought, feeling like her blood had turned to ice in her veins. Oh my God, if that thing starts crawling on me and gets anywhere near my mouth—

  Suddenly a big hand came down, grabbed the hairy purple spider, and pulled it away. Vicky looked up to see that Chain had it in one hand and was holding the struggling thing away from her.

  “Are you well, Victoria?” he asked, looking at her with apparent concern. “Are you frightened of arachnids?”

  Vicky gave a shaky laugh.

  “That’s kind of an understatement,” she said softly, aware that the lecture was still going on. “I don’t like any kind of bugs but spiders are the worst.”

  “Never fear—it will be gone soon,” Chain reassured her.

  As he spoke, the struggling spider and its uneaten cake melted away in his hand, leaving no trace at all of the awful thing.

  “There—see?” Chain reached out and grabbed her hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

  Vicky squeezed back, grateful all over again for the big Kindred. She didn’t know what she would have done if the huge spider had jumped on her. Probably lost her shit and run screaming out of the lecture hall, which definitely wouldn’t have been a very good way to get the deal they were hoping for in regards to the T’lix-Kruthe.

  As it was, she could see that Professor Lornah was glaring down at her with undisguised irritation. Clearly she had seen Vicky’s reaction to her spider-cake-delivery system and she was angry about the minor scene it had caused.

  Looking around, Vicky saw that other people were watching her too—taking away the focus from Professor Lornah’s lecture. Had all of them just sat there and let the huge spiders run up their body and deposit a cake in their mouths, she wondered in disbelief? How could that not freak them out? But obviously, they thought she was out of line because she hadn’t sat still and let a spider force-feed her cake.

  Priima Belle, for all its veneer of class and academic sophistication, was apparently one fucked-up world, Vicky thought grimly. She was going to have to watch her manners from now on—though how she could have avoided showing some reaction to a giant spider appearing on her plate, she didn’t know.

  Scooting back up to the table, she fixed her attention on Professor Lornah, hoping the other people in the lecture hall/dinner theater would lose interest in her and do the same.

  Nothing to see here, folks—freak-out is officially over. Let’s all go back to the lecture.

  After a moment, Professor Lornah did.

  “Well,” she said and cleared her throat. “Ahem. Now that we’re all ready, let’s continue.

  “In the fookuup territory they bake a charming confection filled with the cream of the papa-zook which has been aged for a thousand days. The pastry shells it is inserted into are likewise aged a thousand days. And that is why these next cakes are called ‘thousand day buns.’ Please enjoy the richly fermented flavor of the cream and the lovely flooga glass platters each bun is plated upon.”

  A limp pastry about the size and shape of a hamburger bun fizzed into existence on Vicky’s plate. It was thickly furred with gray and green mold and filled with a large portion of greasy, grayish-black ooze. Vicky thought the “cream” looked like Cool Whip which had been left to molder in its little plastic tub in the back of the refrigerator for months and months until it had taken on a life of its own.

  Oh my God! Her gorge rose and she thought for the second time that night that she might throw up. What was wrong with Professor Lornah? Was she trying to make her audience sick?

  And yet, all around her, the other Professors were picking up the grayish-greenish-moldy buns filled with slimy black ooze and biting into them with apparent enjoyment. Their students—the young guys who all looked to be in their early twenties—were eating the buns as well, most of them with stoic expressions on their faces. This might not be something they liked, but it was clearly something they had to put up with to keep the positions they were in with their professors.

  “I’m so glad to see you’re enjoying this little treat,” Professor Lornah remarked, giving the audience a smug little smile. “It requires a truly discerning palate to appreciate the rich rot of the thousand day buns, but it’s clear that you’re an extremely astute audience.”

  This remark felt rather pointed to Vicky, Looking up, she saw the other woman was glaring directly down at her. Clearly after the way Vicky had reacted to the cake-bearing spider, she was watching to make sure she ate the next item on her lecturing menu—which happened to be the moldy, rotten bun.

  Oh God, I’m going to have to eat it or risk offending her, Vicky thought in panic. Okay, it’s okay, she told herself. You can do this. It’s like blue cheese—like gorgonzola. Some foods taste better when they’re aged and…and rotten.

  She couldn’t quite make herself believe this, but she realized she had no choice about tasting the “delicacy” on the plate in front of her. If she didn’t at least try a bite, Professor Lornah was going to hate her and refuse to introduce her to the professor who had access to the other half of the
T’lix-Kruthe.

  Trying to keep her face blank, she picked up the rotten, oozing bun from her plate and brought it towards her face. The smell that hit her nose was like spoiled milk mixed with five-week-old garbage rotting in the sun. It was awful.

  I can’t, Vicky thought to herself, feeling her stomach do a slow forward roll. Oh God, I just can’t.

  But she had to or the deal for the T’lix-Kruthe was off—she was sure of that.

  They’re counting on me back at the Mother Ship. I have to do this!

  Careful not to let her disgust show on her face, she continued to bring the roll up to her lips. She opened her mouth and a dribble of the rotten black ooze that was the “fermented cream” landed on her tongue.

  It tasted every bit as bad as it smelled.

  I’m going to puke, Vicky thought, even as she felt her teeth slide into the mossy growth of mold that covered the surface of the bun. I’m going to puke all over the table, I won’t be able to help it…

  And then, mercifully, the horrible rotten bun melted away in her hand. It left no trace behind—not even a black smudge on Vicky’s fingers—though she swore she could still taste the rancid flavor of its cream on her tongue.

  Relief flooded her but she needed to get that taste out of her mouth.

  “Hey,” she whispered to Lorn as Professor Lornah began talking again. “Can’t we get anything to drink around here? I’m really, uh, thirsty.”

  Thirsty? More like desperate to rinse the awful taste out of your mouth, whispered a little voice in her head and Vicky couldn’t deny it.

  “Of c-course.” Lorn nodded. Reaching forward, he patted the middle of the table where a small hatch suddenly opened. A squat, square decanter made of some kind of pinkish crystal rose with a selection of thimble-sized goblets around it.

  “What is that?” Chain asked, frowning as Vicky gratefully poured herself a tiny glass of the thick, syrupy liquid from the decanter. It was about the color and consistency of honey but it had a warm cinnamon flavor which washed away the taste of rancid cream nicely, she found.

  “It’s Kork—it’s m-meant to be an after dinner liqueur,” Lorn whispered back. “Be careful, P-professor—it’s qu-quite strong,” he warned her.

  “Doesn’t taste that strong to me,” Vicky protested, pouring another glass and then another. It was the first decent thing she’d put in her mouth since the honey-cake at the very beginning of this dreadful dinner lecture and she was thoroughly enjoying it.

  “Victoria, perhaps you’d better be careful with that,” Chain murmured to her, frowning. “Don’t forget, you have to give a presentation next. You don’t want to be too inebriated to speak.”

  Crap—he’s right, Vicky thought, pausing with the fourth tiny glass of cinnamon-tasting liqueur halfway to her lips. It’s going to be my turn to lecture next and I don’t even know what I’m going to say!

  “And that concludes my lecture for tonight.” Professor Lornah’s voice cut through her sudden consternation. “But please don’t leave yet—we have one more guest lecturer here tonight who has come all the way from the Kindred Mother Ship.”

  Looking up, Vicky saw that Lornah was motioning to her as she spoke.

  Crap—it was her turn to talk and she had no clue what was going to come out of her mouth.

  I’m screwed, she thought as she rose shakily from her chair and started towards the stage. Oh God, I’m so completely screwed.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chain watched with concern as his curvy little Elite made her way towards the stairs that led to the stage. Was Victoria all right? She had reacted badly to both the large arachnid and several of the dishes served during the lecture—most notably the thousand-year bun.

  Not that he blamed her. He had seldom met a female who had a love for insects or arachnids and almost no one—male or female—would have enjoyed most of the “prandial delights” served to them during the lecture. The last one, especially, had tasted positively rancid.

  But it was clear that the people here on Priima Belle had such jaded palates they wanted to taste only “sophisticated” dishes. Chain wondered with concern if anything Victoria could dream up would please them. Was any of the cuisine of Earth as exotic as spider-carried cakes or rotten, oozing buns?

  He just didn’t know but he supposed he—and everyone else in the lecture hall—was about to find out.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Vicky felt dizzy as she climbed the steps to the stage.

  Holy God, I’m drunk, she thought somewhat fuzzily as she nearly missed a step. Crap, never tried to teach drunk before. This is going to be one for the record books.

  She still had no idea what she was going to say as she made her way behind the blue curtain to where Professor Lornah was waiting for her.

  “Well—there you are,” the other woman sniffed in apparent distaste. “I thought you’d never get up here. Everyone is waiting, you know. And I’m sure everyone is eager to see what you’re going to serve up after your, shall we say, rather unique reaction to my own lecture.”

  “Sorry about that,” Vicky said, hoping her words didn’t sound slurred. “I’m not good with spiders—even ones that just want to feed me cake. Especially ones that want to feed me cake,” she added with a shudder.

  “Well!” If possible, Professor Lornah looked even more offended. “I guess the people of your world just aren’t sophisticated enough to deal with an arachnid-delivered delicacy.”

  “No,” Vicky said bluntly, “They’re not. The people of my world mostly grab a shoe and start swinging when a spider as big as a cat runs at their face.”

  “Even when the spider—arachnid—is only delivering a morsel of cake?” Professor Lornah demanded.

  “Sorry.” Vicky shrugged. “I’m afraid we smash first and ask questions later when it comes to bugs the size of small pets.”

  “On Priima Belle, ‘bugs’ as you call them, often are pets,” Professor Lornah exclaimed. “Why, I have a dear little Klik beetle as long as my arm at home named Poncy. She’s so affectionate—sits right on my shoulder and nibbles my ear with her mandibles whenever she wants a treat.”

  Vicky tried to imagine having a large bug for a pet and failed. The part about letting the bug sit on your shoulder and nibble your ear was the worst, she decided. But it certainly explained why the people in the audience hadn’t flinched or freaked out when the cake-bearing spiders had crawled on them. Probably they felt about their bugs the way people back home on Earth felt about their cats and dogs. It might also explain why the Insect University was so much larger and grander than the rest of the buildings she’d seen on this odd alien campus so far.

  “I’m sorry,” she said to Professor Lornah again. “Where I come from, we consider bugs pests—not pets. We don’t keep them around for company—we exterminate them.”

  “Pests? Exterminate them? How awful!” the other woman exclaimed. “How can you do such a thing to such sweet, loving creatures?”

  She was looking at Vicky the same way Vicky might look at someone who declared they hit stray dogs or cats with their car on purpose. Clearly this was a sore point.

  And I went and put my foot right in it, Vicky thought sourly. Shouldn’t have drunk so much of that stuff at the table. I would have known better if I wasn’t so tipsy!

  “I’m sorry,” she said again, not sure how to smooth things over. “Bugs are…different on my world. They’re not, uh, cute.”

  Not that she thought the bugs she’d seen on Priima Belle were in any way cute or attractive either, but it was clear that was how the residents here thought of them.

  “Never mind—we don’t have time to debate the obvious deficiency of your species’ moral fiber,” Professor Lornah snapped. “The audience will be getting restless. Here—put on the thought-to-matter transference helm so you can lecture properly.”

  As she spoke, she pulled the tall, metal crown-looking thing off her own head and jammed it down on Vicky’s.

  “Ouch!�
�� Vicky put up her hands to steady and adjust the crown—which rose a clear three feet above her head. But the edges already appeared to have melded to her skin. “Hey—it won’t come off,” she objected, feeling frightened when she couldn’t get the tall crown to so much as budge.

  “Of course it won’t—not until you give your lecture and give it something to transmit into matter,” Professor Lornah snapped. “Now be quiet—the curtain is rising and I must introduce you.”

  As she spoke, the royal blue curtain rose once more, revealing the expectant faces of the audience which filled the entire huge lecture hall.

  “And now,” Professor Lornah said in a loud voice which carried all the way to the back of the auditorium. “Without further ado, please welcome Professor Victoria from the Kindred Mothership.”

  There was a polite round of applause as Professor Lornah left her alone at center stage and everyone sat forward expectantly. The silence was overwhelming—deafening. And it was a listening silence—a waiting silence, Vicky thought hazily. They were waiting for her to speak.

  But there was a problem—though all eyes were trained on her, she didn’t have the slightest idea what to say.

  Chapter Twenty

  It turned out to be a good thing for Vicky that she was tipsy-verging-on-drunk. The stage fright that she might have felt, being in front of an audience of stuffy alien academics on a strange world, seemed to have been melted away by the alcohol. So instead of freezing, she stepped forward, opened her mouth and heard herself say,

  “Hola! Como estas?”

  And just like that, she was launching into a beginning Spanish lesson.

  But not just any Spanish lesson—this was the lesson she did with all her Spanish One classes that had to do with food and restaurant words. It was always a fun class because she had her students bring their favorite Spanish-inspired dishes.