Cassiel Winters 1: Sky's End (15 page)

“No,” I manage to whisper, shaking my head. The RISH had healed my injuries overnight.

“Please. Wait.” I rest my head back against the wall. Everything’s dizzy and I’m breaking out into a flop sweat.
Unbelievable
. These little panic attacks couldn’t be timed better, always just before something really important’s at stake.

“It’s getting better. Please just wait,” I beg him softly, realizing I sound really drunk. I focus on taking deep breaths.
Make it go away
.

The last thing I want is for this encounter to be postponed.

Dizziness combines with nausea, and I want to let go, pass out, just to get rid of the miserable sensation.

He exhales sharply, lifts my head with his hand and searches for something in my eyes. “We would not harm you,” he rumbles nastily.

Gee, that’s so reassuring
.

In the dark, his eyes still stand out in their brilliant green. His wide, large face hovers close, and in its size, or scope, or expression, I’m forced to acknowledge just how different we truly are, how I don’t speak his ‘language,’ in any way, like he’s staring down at a frightened mewling kitten.

“I’m not scared!” I whisper urgently, feeling some strength return. I need him to know that.

He scoffs at me.

Boy, he really creams my corn.

For a second time, I long to punch him in the nose. Anger gives me some energy.

I motion for him to help me stand upright. I rub my face, and then my hands.

My arms are shaking but I ignore them.
Breathe
. Again. Good. I adjust my hair pushing it behind me, down my back. I center myself and glance at Green Eyes, who’s watching me, waiting.

I step forward, awkwardly, and he grabs my arm, placing it on his, which is held out at his side. I don’t resist. I need the support.

As I enter the room, I’m struck again by the unusual light and I decide to focus totally on that. It’s almost dusk, and the first thing I do is search for the source.
Ah!
A glass ceiling. Somehow they are creating artificial sunlight. And the sun’s setting. Lovely, really. I’ve missed Earth’s sun on ESE.

Hey, I’m pretty good at this, totally ignoring the elephants in the room.

Using my peripheral vision only, I take in the fact that there are four Thell’eons scattered about, plus Green Eyes beside me makes five, but I refuse to make direct eye contact. I look around and through them but not at them. I just don’t feel ready.

I’m not myself. Maybe I’ll never be myself again.

I keep fighting bursts of panic to flee.
There is nowhere to go!
Funny when the rational part of your brain argues for the most dangerous alternative. Stand your ground. Face your enemy. Is that what courage is?

The room itself is quite stunning, wavy round, lots of metallic framework, only some softer materials on the chairs and walls I can’t quite identify. The fabrics seem lush and iridescent, like sparkly velvet, but different. This room’s definitely designed for living rather than a specific function or purpose. In the middle, there’s an inset circle with various seats that all have a subtle wave shape, at least I think they are seats, and behind that a raised area with a gorgeous table, just that like the one in Dark Eyes’ home, or at least the one he claimed to take me to in symbiosis. Beyond the table is true art, a row of tall windows that lead up to the ceiling, but these windows show space, real space, not an artificial scene.

My heart sinks. By the streaks of light, I bet we are traveling at 40,000 light years per minute. So far from home! I tear my eyes away from it and stare at my bare, cold feet, squishing a smidge in the floor with each step.
Yup
, organic material in their ship for sure. Shoes would have been nice.

The room’s unbearably quiet as Green Eyes leads me to the inset area. I focus on walking. I’m no longer dizzy but the attack has left me weak. Vulnerable. Exposed. I may as well be naked in this dress! The four Thell’eon have shifted positions and are standing at various staggered distances below me. I like this because they appear smaller, even though it’s because I’m standing two steps up.

I look down at them finally, trying to maintain a stony expression.

Yup, very intimidating
.

Funny, two of them are no more attractive than an average human male, though they certainly have Thell’eon stature and interesting faces. I dwell on them for only a moment. They take in my assets and my face unabashed. It’s hard to read their expressions.

Oh, wait. Disappointment?

Yup
, they are definitely disappointed. I stare back down at my feet.

Okay. This is disconcerting in a wholly unexpected way.

I look up to my right and
bam!
Dark Eyes. He’s donned in weapons from head to toe, staring at my dress. When our eyes meet, my face floods with heat and I look away quickly. His scent, his tongue probing my mouth, his roaming hands, all comes rushing back.
How could it feel so real? How could you do that, Cassiel?

Green Eyes drops my arm. I watch him move to a pile of metal,
weapons?
, near one of the chairs.
Yup
. Definitely weapons. He begins to put them on. Why?

I glance nervously at the remaining Counsel Kir, crossing my arms loosely around me. He’s standing back a bit and to the side with a drink in his hand.
Wow
. He’s LV star good-looking; flashy, glamorous, except for the shaved head, markings, and fighting scars. A girl’s normal reaction to someone this striking is for her heart to skip a beat, but that’s not why mine does. He’s checking me out with utter disbelief, outrage, and violent rage.

I don’t understand what’s going on here.

All at once, LV Star shouts something that doesn’t translate, but sounds exactly like how a human would say
Fuck this!
and throws his glass so fast across the room that I don’t register it whip by me before it shatters against the vestibule wall I just came from. The delay in my attempt to duck, never mind my heart skipping a beat, is embarrassing. Some dark orange liquid’s splattered all down the dented wall and along the floor.

Green Eyes shouts, “Hold yourself, Onegin!” which I’m sure isn’t quite translated right. The angry monster has already turned away. His mammoth back and shoulders are straining with hostility, and his hands are in tight fists, which he bangs against his forehead once, hard, striding angrily over to the table, near the windows.

Holy stars, what’s his problem?!

I don’t dare try to see what wordless exchange is going on among the four of them. Then I would have to take my eyes off the fifth one, this Onegin, the beautiful bezerker.

But the silence is foreboding. So I take a chance and glance around. They’re staring at me, at each other, mean-looking. I try really hard to remain expressionless. But the truth is, I’ve never been more scared in my life. My body’s rigid with tension. If I have to hold it up much longer, I might collapse.

“This is why we are Katantz!,” shouts the gorgeous brute, causing me jump in my own skin.

Shit.
I knew I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off him. He has turned back around and is yelling at the others. “Katantz! A female child. A human female child!”

Something tells me that the word ‘Katantz’ is tantamount to ‘fucked.’ I really don’t understand. Why does my gender matter? And this is the second time they have referred to me as a child. What gives?

“Cassiel Winters,” says the plainest-looking Kir, in a deep, gregarious voice. “Do not mind Kir Onegin.” He steps forward. How does he know my full name?

“Prime Or’ic.” He glances at Dark Eyes.
He’s the Prime then.
“We are not being courteous to our guest. I am Kir Pers’eus The Third.” The animated Counsel Kir approaches me, arm out.

I’m relieved but stunned by the sudden civility. Of course I’m receptive, anything rather than stand here trying not to collapse.

This Pers’eus is taller than all of them, which requires me to lean right back to make eye contact when he reaches me. Light brown eyes but still not a human light brown. They are bottled cognac. He is, of course, very muscular, but in a gangly sort of way, and while he seems intimating, there’s something swashbuckler about him.

I decide to take his arm, and if he’s surprised by how much I lean on it, he doesn’t let on. He leads me down to a chair. Before the others join us, they grab more clinking weapons and put them on. I want to ask why but opt to keep my mouth shut. Besides, I’m fairly certain I would only squeak at this moment.

Dark Eyes, or rather, Prime Or’ic, joins us, sitting directly across from me. I refuse to make eye contact. And yet I sense how he maintains total command of the room. The way the others act around him, subtle signs of deference through body language and glances, makes this clear.

I try to focus on the niceness of this Pers’eus, who sits beside me and introduces everyone.

Well, this is not what I expected. Definitely better than water torture or laser slashings.

“As you may have gathered, the brooding drink tosser is Kir Onegin The Fourth,” offers Pers’eus.

Onegin stays where he is, and I don’t look back at him. Green Eyes is introduced, a name that sounds like Kell’an. I pick up on a slight pause on syllables in Thell’eon language. As I guessed all along, this Kell’an is Prime Or’ic’s right hand man, or Kir The One.

Pers’eus introduces the last Counsel Kir, as “Kir Shadon’inton The Fifth,” or something like that (I just note Shadon for now). “He does not talk much,” adds Pers’eus.

I steal a glance. This Shadon is indeed quiet, not even acknowledging me before sitting in one of the four remaining chairs. Deposited up high in a pair of incredibly prominent cheekbones, are bright, periwinkle blue eyes. He wears his hair long, which I didn’t register as unusual for a Thell’eon, until this moment, because I’m so tense. It’s a light brown, sleek and shiny. From what skin I can see outside of his cloak, he has many markings. So why doesn’t he show those on his skull? He seems very young.

Finally, Pers’eus says, “And you’ve met our Prime, Prime Or’ic.”

Dark Eyes. The Prime. Prime Or’ic. Knowing his true name makes him real. Too real.

I glance at him briefly, willing myself not to blush. He’s amused.
He’s not in my mind, is he?
I hunt around in the big empty space, imagining those obsidian weapons sparkling
knowingly?,
but find nothing.

Silence. Again.

When I sense movement, I look over, surprised to discover an unusual species placing drinks on the tables. I didn’t notice him in the room or hear him come in! He’s tall and thin, and his skin is unusual somehow. We haven’t learned about any species like this; I wonder if Prof Xeno knows of his kind? I want to take him in properly, but he remains so far bent over I never get the chance. When the hunched servant’s finished stocking the tables, he uses long fingers,
each
with at least a dozen joints
!, to move each cup within reach of a Kir. I’m the last to be served. A table sits before an empty chair beside me. Onegin’s.
Super
.

Isn’t this pleasant? What the fuck?
I don’t want to drink with the enemy!

The four lean forward, say something that doesn’t translate, and toss back the shot. Out of nowhere, Onegin arrives, startling me. My hand falls on my heart; the other grips the seat. He grabs his drink, mumbles the same words, and tosses back the contents. They all look to me.

To be honest, I really could use something to take the edge off.
Oh, whatever.
I snatch the cup, hastily, whisper, “Bottoms up!” and swallow the whole thing.

A tiny wisp of euphoria. Instantly I remember it from symbiosis, and before I can stop myself, I look at Or’ic. He’s watching me and heat blossoms in my cheeks. Again. Kell’an witnesses this expressionless. The worst part is that the buzz I was hoping for is already gone. I could use a real shot, something that lasts for more than a lousy 30 seconds.

“You are disappointed?” asks Or’ic.

“No!” I say sharply, not wanting to offend, then remind myself to fuck the civility. How can he read me so well?

“Are you in my mind again?” I demand, suddenly suspicious.

The group bristles. Pers’eus makes a sound like a chuckle.

Oh, so, they have a sense of humor after all
.

“No. I would not do so without your permission.”

Oh. Well, then. That seems decent.

What gives?

I stare at him. Why does he have to be so attractive? I mean it’s criminal. He motions to the slave who returns quickly with a jug. The slave pours everyone a drink, and we go through the motions again.

Human whiskey! I can’t help but feel delight as the familiar rye elixir warms my belly. Something from home! They’re all watching me with curious expression. I wipe the delight off my face.