Текст книги "Alien god"

Автор книги: Ursa Dox

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There was something refreshing about it. About chatting with a Sionnachan who did not seem afraid of me, and who was not employed by me. If I did not have more pressing matters to attend to, I would have stayed there longer.

But as it was, I did have more pressing matters. I could not hide from Skalla and star-darkness and a certain honey-eyed prisoner for long. I’d gotten what I needed out of this visit – confirmation that the humans hadn’t done anything nefarious to the nearest Sionnachan population. Now, it was time to leave.

I exited the pub and stepped onto the street. The sun was setting, smearing the pink of the sky with scarlet and a deep, resounding purple that matched the village’s buildings. I was about to unfurl my wings and leap right into that sky when a building across the road caught my eye.

Like the pub, it had been standing before. I remembered it. Based on the silk and fur banners outside, the business was the same sort as well – a fabric shop. Wanting to hold on to just a little bit more of the world I remembered, I crossed the street and went inside.

Firestone lanterns flickered on the walls, casting a rosy glow over tables and shelves laden with fabrics. Not just fabrics, but also garments – vests and trousers and boots and cloaks. The man behind the crystal counter was wide-eyed at my entrance, but recovered quickly, flattening his ears and greeting me.

“Lord Wylfrael! Welcome, welcome!”

He didn’t seem nearly as bowled-over as the Sionnachans in the pub had been at my arrival. I wondered if someone from the pub had run over here, had spread the word through the entire village, that Ashken was sane after all and Lord Wylfrael really had returned.

“Hello,” I said, folding my wings carefully behind me so as not to knock down any of the fine fabrics and dirty them. “I am glad to see this shop is still here.”

“Yes, of course, my lord! Thank you, my lord! I am Hoshta. This shop has been in my mother’s family since... Well, since you were last here.” The shopkeeper was old, but tall, with a straight back and a mixture of grey and white down and fur. Despite a slight nervousness about him, I could sense the pride he held for this business.

I walked through the shop, stopping here and there to finger an especially fine bolt of silk or piece of leather. It was something that had already occurred to me, but that came back much stronger, now – the human would need clothing if she was to stay here.

A part of me scoffed at that. Let her wear her one outfit until it is filthy and falling apart. And then, let her be cold and naked in the tower.

But the idea of her naked and caged, waiting for my interrogations with nothing to cover her body but her abundance of silken dark hair spilling over her shoulders, was so shockingly, abominably erotic that I had to sharpen it into cold rage to keep myself from combusting on the spot.

“Fabric!” I gritted out. “I need fabric. For clothing.”

“Oh, of course! Yes!”  Hoshta hurried out from behind his counter. “What sort of fabric did you have in mind? I have some really lovely silk this season. The palest pink you could dream of. And-”

“Anything extremely scratchy and uncomfortable will do,” I grunted, my jaw working. Now that the naked human had paraded, uninvited, into my mind, I couldn’t get her out. Of course, the only reasonable solution was to punish the real human for it by clothing her in the most irritating fabric imaginable.

“I am afraid I do not have anything that would qualify as scratchy, my lord,” Hoshta fretted. “We take great pride in the quality and comfort of our fabrics.”

“Of course, you do,” I said stiffly, trying to maintain some outward composure. “I should not have implied otherwise.”

Since there was nothing scratchy, or even remotely ugly, in the shop, I settled on the most basic and plain items. Soft brown wool, grey silk, and a white fur cloak with a hood. I asked Hoshta if he had any boots meant for children, knowing adult ones would be too large, and he told me regretfully that he did not.

She doesn’t need boots. She has boots! The human boots that carried her foolish little feet into this world without your permission, remember?

I dumped my selected items on the counter, brooding as Hoshta tallied it all up. It was only when he told me the total that I realized I’d come here without any Sionnachan coin.

“Of course, if my lord prefers,” Hoshta said slowly, as if worried he might offend me, “he can put it on credit. Despite your long absence, we have kept your account open for you.” His voice softened slightly. “My mother insisted on it, just as her mother did, and her mother before her. We always hoped you’d return safely, Lord Wylfrael.”

“Thank you,” I replied. I was not simply thanking him for the credit, but for keeping a place open for me for so long. A wry smile touched my lips. “I hope I have not left anything unpaid on the account. If there is interest, it must be a mighty sum indeed.”

Hoshta’s ears flattened and he gasped, affronted. “Interest! On Lord Wylfrael’s account! Certainly not, my lord! Besides, your staff have kept things relatively up to date. Now, there is a small sum on the account, my lord. Very small indeed, for orders your Mistress of Affairs has made recently that she has not yet settled.”

“They will be settled quickly,” I said firmly, reminding myself to deal with that upon my return to the castle.

“Very good my lord, very good. Thank you.”

Hoshta placed the items into a large satchel for me. Just as I took it and turned, something out of the corner of my eye froze me to the spot. A flash of gold and white that had become so familiar I thought for a moment that her eyes had followed me here.

But it was lace. Shimmering, delicate golden lace sewn onto the finest snow-white silk.

My breath felt sharp and greedy in my lungs. My claws curled against the satchel I held, wanting simultaneously to stroke the lace and to tear it to pieces.

Leave it, Wylfrael, my mind said.

But my hand reached for it anyway, and my mouth said something else entirely as my fingers made contact with the lace.

“This one too, Hoshta. Put it on my account.”

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CHAPTER NINETEEN Torrance

Asha Wylfrael didn’t come back that day. I hoped he’d gotten bored of me, but somewhat doubted it after the nearly perverse way he’d stroked the angry bruise on my wrist.

And then there was the way my body had responded – a betrayal even more perverse. I’d been unable to even try to pull away, to do anything but hold my breath and shiver under his touch, hot and cold and confused.

By the time evening rolled around, something I could track by the way light moved and stretched through the thick crystal walls in the windowless tower, I was convinced I was going out of my mind. Stockholm syndrome? A head injury I’m not aware of? That had to explain the riot of feverish sensation that had gripped me when the male, the monster who’d killed my friends, had held my arm.

At least he didn’t make it hurt more... When he’d first grabbed me, and I’d cried out and flinched, he’d immediately loosened his grip. And he’d seemed to tell me earlier that he wasn’t going to kill me. That has to be a good sign, right? At least where my safety is concerned. Or maybe it really was Stockholm syndrome, and I was looking for signs of kindness in gestures that were barely more than merciful. He’d admitted to killing other humans already, so really, what sort of kindness could there actually be?

At least he’s staying away for now.

The opening of the door in the evening made me jump and think I was wrong, but it was only the fox woman, coming to bring me food. She chattered gently, maybe even nervously, in their language as she brought in a tray. Outside in the hall, the male fox alien stood where he’d been all day, a new fixture that made me wonder if Asha Wylfrael had left the tower entirely.

If he’s gone, maybe I can get these two more on my side...

It was clear they were servants of some sort to Asha Wylfrael. They jumped to obey what appeared to be his every command. However, they also seemed kind. When the female one spoke to me, it was more like a nurse talking to a patient, or someone speaking to a skittish wild animal, than a guard to a prisoner. Neither of these fox aliens had ever touched me, and at times the female one seemed almost uncomfortable, like she wasn’t happy about the fact I was trapped here.

Maybe I was reading far too much into the emotions of alien beings I didn’t understand.

Or maybe this could be some kind of opportunity.

“Thank you for the food,” I said brightly, smiling and nodding at the woman. Her cat-like green eyes went huge in shock at the way I was addressing her after a day of silence from my end. She placed a tray on the table and then shyly smiled back.

She started speaking, repeating one word in particular, Aiko, Aiko, while gesturing towards herself with two closed fists.

“Aiko... Is that your name? You’re Aiko?” I pointed at her.

Her smile widened, and her fists opened and closed in a quick movement. Unlike Asha Wyflrael, who had hands similar to a human’s (apart from the claws and glowing stars, that is,) the fox people’s were different. More paw-like, with three fingers and a thumb.

She closed her fists again and aimed them towards me, repeating a lilting phrase that I tried to understand even though there was no chance I would.

“Do you want to know my name?” I asked, hoping that was it. “I’m Torrance.” I repeated my name several times, as she had done, and mimicked the way she’d used her fists to point at herself. I was rewarded with yet another smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back. She seemed excited to know my name, and that buoyed my hopes. They wouldn’t want to learn my name if I was just a faceless alien prisoner. They wanted to know who I was, to see me as a person despite the circumstances. Not like him, who only seemed to care about molesting my bruised wrist and making sure that I didn’t run away or starve on his watch.

“What about you?” I asked, looking out the door to the fox alien on the landing outside my room. “What’s your name?”

This one seemed less sure than Aiko, and he looked to her for answers. Even though he was bigger than Aiko, I got the sense that he was younger, or that maybe Aiko was his boss. She said something to him, and he finally made eye contact with me, aiming his fists at his chest.

“Shoshen.”

“Nice to meet you, Shoshen. I’m Torrance.” I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile and then headed for the table. I sat down without being told and would eat without being told, too. I wanted Aiko and Shoshen to see that I was willing to work with them. That I could be a good little human. Maybe they’d start to trust me.

The lunch Aiko brought earlier had been more of the same as breakfast. The burgundy bread was crumbly and tasted faintly of beets, but was good. The paté stuff had turned out to be some sort of mashed smoked fish which was surprisingly delicious, especially when smeared on the bread. The shiny beads, less so. They were fish eggs, I was pretty sure, rubbery and too difficult for me to force down.

Dinner, though, was different. No stew today, but instead thinly sliced dark meat arranged in a spiral, stuffed with... Well, I wasn’t sure yet. The drink was yet more of what I’d had before – a slightly sour dairy concoction sweetened with something akin to honey. I didn’t mind the taste, and it didn’t upset my stomach, but I really wanted water. I was too afraid to drink water directly from the tap in case there was some sort of alien microbe in it.

I picked up the meat thing, holding it like a burrito, and took a bite.

I nodded enthusiastically and made “mmm!” sounds at Aiko, who seemed pleased by my reaction. I wonder if she made this, I thought as I took another bite. It actually was quite good. The stuffing was a strong sort of cheese, I was pretty sure. The meat was similar to venison, something my dad would cook every once in a while.

The sudden grief was a punch to the throat. I choked, unable to swallow the food in my mouth. Aiko stepped forward in concern, but I waved her off, reaching for my mug and chugging the milky liquid.

I ate the rest of the meal slowly, drowning in memories. I couldn’t bring myself to smile again.

Later that night, after Aiko left with my tray and Asha Wylfrael still hadn’t returned, I finally allowed myself to cry. I curled tightly under the fur bedspread, sobbing into the pillows. I wept for my dad who’d just died, for the mom who’d died before I’d ever got to properly meet her. There were tears for so much of my old life, snatched from my grip like a toy torn from a child’s hands. I cried for my friends, too. For Min-Ji and Suvi and the other women, some of whom I desperately hoped had survived all this.

And for the first time since being captured, I shook with the guilt of it all. For the fact that I was the one who’d lived when others hadn’t. I had been so focused on making sense of my new situation, of hating the fact that I was trapped, that I hadn’t stopped to realize the enormity of the fact that I had survived when my friends hadn’t.

I was alive. The people I loved weren’t. And I didn’t know how the fuck I was supposed to be worthy of that chance.

Eventually, the tears slowed, and I stared numbly at the burning boulder in the hearth.

I wanted to feel cleansed after crying.

But instead, I just felt empty.

I retreated into that hollow place, closed my eyes, and disappeared.

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CHAPTER TWENTY Wylfrael

When I returned to the castle, night was halfway done. I landed at the back of the property and entered through the kitchen. I half expected to see Aiko in there cooking or scrubbing pots, but then reminded myself of the time. She’d probably long since gone to bed. Which reminded me that I needed to relieve Shoshen of his post outside the human’s door.

I moved quickly, flying up the many stairs since it was so much faster than walking. After the long flight today and my still-healing wounds, my wings were weary, but it still felt good to use them. They’d been folded under my back for so long while I’d slumbered.

The tunnels were too narrow to fly through, so I walked, but did so briskly, the satchel from Hoshta held tightly under my arm. I thought about depositing the satchel in my room first, but without seeming to have actually made a conscious decision on the matter, I went straight up to the human’s chamber door.

“My lord!” Shoshen flattened his ears.

“I hope the prisoner behaved herself for you and Aiko,” I said. My eyes were on the crystal door instead of my Sionnachan Master of the Grounds as he replied.

“Yes, my lord. She ate the food Aiko brought her with little fuss.”

I grunted at that. A part of me wanted to be satisfied with that and say, “Good.” But another part, an angry, twisting part, hated that she’d eaten without a fight for my servants, but not for me.

She submits to the servants but disobeys the lord...

What an infuriatingly upside-down sort of creature she was. I wanted to march in there, tear her out of her bed, set her on her ridiculously tiny feet and remind her which way was up. To remind her that I was a stone sky god, I was in control, I was the one to be obeyed.

“You’re dismissed, Shoshen.”

“Thank you, my lord. Ah, there is one other thing.”

He hesitated. I narrowed my eyes, and he inhaled quickly.

“She... she was making an odd sound before.”

“What sort of sound?” I asked sharply.

“I... I am not quite sure. It was a while ago, now. Just after sundown. It was a... a sort of quiet wailing sound.”

“Wailing?”

I dropped the satchel and slammed open the door with a blast of power. It was quicker than pulling it open with my hand.

She’d been wailing. Wailing!

With pain? With fear? Despair so thick it made her stupid, made her want to...

What have you done to yourself while I’ve been gone, little human?

She did not stir in the bed at my approach, and that filled me with fearful dread. It was only the sound of her breathing that made me stop at her bedside, that kept me from dragging her out and shaking her until she opened her eyes. Only the top of her dark head was visible in the firestone light, the rest of her cocooned in fur. Grinding my fangs against each other, I stared down at the lump that was my prisoner, and I hated her for making me afraid.

She’s breathing. She’s sleeping. Go.

And yet, I did not go. I remained, staring and loathing and fighting back the fear, listening to her breath like it was some sort of important call in the distance. An anthem to adhere to, bringing me to heel.

But that anthem didn’t sound quite right. Her breathing was stilted and almost wet-sounding.

Something is wrong.

My claws sank into the fur and pulled, revealing her small form. She did not wake right away, instead curling into a tight ball, her face hidden.

A muscle jumped in my cheek.

“Wake up!” I barked. “Why does your breathing sound like that?”

And why, why, why were you wailing?

At the sound of my voice she started, a jerking frisson running through her. As soon as her eyes were open and on me, she sat up, scrambling backwards and away from me until her back collided with the crystal headboard.

I sat on the bed, leaning towards her and boxing her in with my body. Her eyes darted back and forth, looking for escape, but we both knew there would be none.

“Stay still and let me look at you,” I hissed, reaching for her jaw so I could better see her face in the firestone light. She twanged into tense stillness under my touch as I held her face with both hands. It was hard to get a perfect sense of colour in the orange-tinted glow of the firestone, but she definitely looked paler than before. Her cheeks were two high, flaming spots of colour among the pallor of her skin, and the white parts of her eyes were now tinted red, too.

Again?

First, the blue tint to her skin giving way to pink before this, and now the paleness and the white parts of her eyes veined with red. This human was constantly changing colours on me, and it maddened me that I knew nothing of what it all meant.

Her breath was faster now, but still odd and wet. She sniffed, and it sounded as if her nose was partially blocked.

“Shoshen said that you were wailing. Did you do something to your nose?” I asked, squinting at the small protrusion. Now that I looked closer, it looked slightly red, too, and swollen, as did her lips and eyes.

Her heartbeat was a rhythm so frantic it practically fluttered at her throat. I slid one of my hands downward, palming the side of her neck, feeling the hot pulsation beneath my skin.

Maybe she is ill. The red eyes, the swelling...

“What’s wrong with you?” My hands pressed a little harder against her throat and jaw, my claws sinking into her hair.

She said something that time, her voice crackling and water-logged. Not only the breathing through her nose, but her throat is affected, too?

My thumb shifted against her chin, pressing downward with a sharp pressure until her mouth popped open. Her stillness vanished, and she began to wriggle in my grip. I held her firmly, inspecting her mouth and what I could see of her throat. Small, blunt teeth. A shiny pink tongue. Some dangly thing at the back that I was not entirely convinced was supposed to be there...

I could not see any obvious obstructions, but I also had no idea what the inside of her throat was supposed to look like, either.

This will not do. Tomorrow, I have to be strong enough to see Rúnwebbe.

“Tomorrow, you will tell me what is wrong with you,” I swore with a harsh breath. Giving her one final, penetrating look that told me absolutely nothing, I let her go. “For tonight, I will remain here. Make sure you do not die before I can interrogate you.”

I stood, then headed for the table and chairs. Gripping one chair by its back, I dragged it over to the side of her bed while she glared at me. I was about to sit, then decided at the last moment to move the chair to the other side of the bed so that I was between her and the door. The human looked horrified when I sat down and asked me a question I assumed must have been something like, “What are you doing?” or “Are you staying here all night?”

“Yes, I am staying here all night,” I informed her coolly, stretching my legs out in front of me. I leaned back, lacing my fingers together on my abdomen and resting my elbows on the arms of the chair. “Stay awake or sleep. It does not matter to me.”

She appeared to choose the former. She scooted herself until she’d reached the far side of the bed, then wiggled up against the headboard until she was in a pose that mirrored mine. Her eyes never left me.

“Suit yourself,” I muttered. I let my own eyes drift closed, a show of callous indifference.

But a show was all it was. My ears strained to catch her every breath. And though my eyes were closed, I knew I would not let sleep come.

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