Chapter 4

 

 

Everyone reacts differently to stressful situations. Where some people would respond with bitterness, maybe some anger, others may respond with wild abandon, elaborate schemes or impromptu trips to forget. Then there are the people who sulk, hide away in a small corner and dwell on the pain. Then there are others that choose to do all three.

Dakota had herself shoved in the corner of her bed, her knees bent, arms resting atop them. She swirled the amber liquid in the cup, staring at it as if it held her happiness. The light in the sky was turning red-orange, signs that dusk was upon them. Hawthorne was currently standing in her doorway, his excuses filling the air like a vile odor. She looked up to him. “You realize you’re not my father, right?”

He sighed but refused to look away from her incredulous stare. “The supernatural world is new to you. You don’t know what all these creatures are capable of. I just want to keep you safe. Until you get stronger. Once you learn more.”

The earth grumbled lightly, in sync with her growing irritation. She closed her eyes and tried to control that tingle of power she could sense building inside of her. The earth settled and she opened her eyes once more. “I’m not going to learn anything if you keep me locked up in this cabin, in the middle of nowhere.”

“You can leave the cabin.”

“Yeah, to town. Great. Thanks for that. Glad to know my two options are town, or a cabin in town… feels super different.”

Hawthorne gave an exasperated huff. “Can you at least try to trust me with this?”

“My trust in you is not in question, Hawthorne. I question whether your choices here are actually the best for me or for you.” The question in his eyes frustrated her. How did he not understand? “I don’t know if your keeping me in lockdown is because you know it’s the safest thing for me, or if it’s just your fear of what could happen if I don’t.”

“Of course it’s fear. I don’t understand the different between those.”

She smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “One of those is completely selfish. You don’t want anything to happen to me, I get that. But you want to keep me here because you feel more in control here. You don’t have as much control away from this place, and you’re afraid you won’t be able to protect me from a threat out there.”

Recognition lit his face quickly replaced with guilt. “I… I don’t know, I just…”

“Don’t worry, Hawthorne. For now, I’ll stay in town. I can’t guarantee for how long, though.” She didn’t have any intention to tell him she was planning to leave the planet. And the statement was completely true. She didn’t know when they would leave for Torg. He nodded and looked away. She could feel his heart breaking. It took everything in her to not back down. “Okay, so, fun conversation. But I would like to drink my sorrows for a little bit then crash. You mind just keeping your distance for the rest of the night?”

“I’ve been keeping my distance from you all day, Dakota.”

“Yeah, because you were dealing with your other brother and making game plans and things like that. You left me alone because you had better things to do.”

“Dakota,” he chided, “don’t be like that. A little girl is in danger, and even if she isn’t my child, she still needs someone to try and save her.”

“I get it, Hawk, more than you know.” She thought about the irony, that she was planning to go save a little girl from a fate worse than death on a planet she’d never been to, while he was trying to save a little girl he’d never even seen on the word of a brother he didn’t trust. “I still would like to be left alone.” He nodded again, not a single word escaping his tight lips. He closed her door and she could hear him sigh solemnly from the other side.

She sat there for a little while longer, sulking. She looked up at her opened window. The chill fall breeze felt nice against her warmed face. She stared out there for a while and the longer she did it, the more trapped she felt. She needed to get out of the house.

She fingered the screen for a moment, contemplating the texture with the intensity of any person who had downed a fifth of whiskey.

Then Dakota smiled. Perhaps it was the alcohol talking, but she was coming up with a plan of escape. She knelt on the bed and turned her entire body towards the window. Her eyes flitted wildly along the screen. She would figure this out, alcohol or not. She scrunched her nose and squinted her eyes, trying to find the right spot that would pop out the screen yet still keep it intact. Then she saw it, the smallest piece of rounded metal in the corner. She grinned and the screen popped in towards her as she squeezed the metal. I feel like a teenager. Actually, she never did things like this as a child. She never had the gumption. When others in her class were going crazy with their hormones and trying their best to act like they were grown up enough to be doing the things they were doing, Dakota was just fine hanging at home and drinking hot chocolate while watching horror flicks.

But that didn’t matter then. What mattered was trying to get out of the window without making a bunch of noise. Feet first. Definitely feet first. She grabbed her glass and downed the rest of the whiskey. It bit back but not near as bad as the first two glasses. Or was it three? She giggled as she stuck the first leg out. She thought, as she was still balancing herself on her bed, that she couldn’t even remember jumping on a bed before. She would definitely have to do that. Another time. She giggled again, bouncing her foot just slightly on the bed before sitting on the windowsill.

She pursed her lips. Head before the second leg, or leg before the head? Definitely the leg first. She balanced herself on the sill and wiggled her foot through the hole that she was sure was bigger just a few moments ago. She got it through, but as she got to the thigh, she realized her butt wasn’t far enough on the windowsill and she felt herself slipping. She squealed as she caught herself with her hands. “This isn’t what I was thinking with the whole feet first thing.” She turned herself enough so that her body was stomach down with her legs sticking out straight through the window She waited for a moment before she started to shimmy out slowly. Note to self: Windowsills are not very comfy.

She got to her boobs and reached her toes down as far as she could but could feel nothing. She closed her eyes and searched for the connection to Earth. She imagined the ground rising up to meet her dangling feet. She smiled as she felt the ground press against the bottom of her shoes. Just enough so that she wouldn’t have to smash her boobs. A little more… little more…. Too much, too much!

She felt her body rising and pulled the rest of her body out of the window before her head could make contact with the window. The momentum was a bit much and she tumbled back, rolling rather ungracefully off of the new mound of dirt. She settled face down in a thick bush that she wasn’t a hundred percent sure was there before. She got up on her knees and dusted herself off. She giggled again. I am such a rebel. The sound of the front door opening and closing made her giggles fall short.

Drunk or not, she wasn’t in the mood to get caught. She could hear the sound of Hawthorne’s lighter flicking to life. Knowing that he hadn’t come outside to see what was going on, Dakota felt comfortable in standing, albeit rather slowly. Probably more so than was necessary. A little too wobbly, as well.

Now… how to get away unheard… with dead leaves all over the ground. The front door opened and shut again. “So, what’s your take on it?” She recognized the voice as James’. Her lip curled. “You want her to go up to Washington? Train there?” Who do they mean by “her”? They better not be talking about me.

There was a long pause before Hawthorne spoke. “She’s bitter. Angry. She’s good at masking it, but it’s there.”

I’m good at hiding it? She wasn’t sure that was entirely accurate. On the contrary, she was barely able to calm herself down on most days so she wouldn’t cause some kind of geological anomaly. James sighed. “And if we send her there, it’s gonna bring back a lot of painful memories. Do you think she could handle it?”

She could hear Hawthorne grumble through some thoughts but not loud enough that she could hear them. “Seriously, I have no idea. I can barely handle the thought of going there. And my brother didn’t die there.”

Brother?

“You almost lost your brother there.”

She heard a soft grumble of irritation from Hawthorne. “Please, let’s not talk about all that.”

They definitely couldn’t be talking about Dakota. She didn’t lose a brother in that fight. “Fine, I won’t mention it again.” James paused as Hawthorne thanked him for his silence. “You know, Jessica’s never trained before. She doesn’t know much about fighting.”

“Who better to train her than Sage? Look what he did with Dakota.”

“Yeah, look at all the things he did with Dakota.” James’ bitter tone was more than clear. How dare he?! He had no right to get upset about her sleeping with Sage when he obviously had no interest in her anymore. In fact, she can sleep with whomever the hell she wanted to!

She almost stepped around the house to tell him just that. But then, it would ruin her escape. She stopped shy of taking a step and paused. Come to think of it, maybe that’s what she needed! It might be the alcohol talking again, but hey, a girl’s got needs. She glanced around and thought about what she needed and the ground responded silently. Weeds and grass and what little wildflowers were still clinging to life in spite of the approaching chill had bound together, creating a soft, lush pathway just strong enough that Dakota could walk across. She took her shoes off, then her socks, and began stepping along. It wasn’t long after that she realized she should have grabbed more whiskey.

She felt free once she found a back road. The light of the day was almost gone, the breeze threatened to steal her warmth, and yet she smiled. She smiled because she had made a path for herself. She was making her decisions, even if they were dumb. She almost bounced along the way as she dodged potholes and kicked at leaves. She stopped and looked around, trying to find some sort of bearing. Where was town from here? She bit her lip and looked up into the wine-colored sky, her eyes trailing to look for any hints of light. Through the tress in front of her, the slightest hint of red peaked through. She smiled. “Arrggh, there she be, Cap’n,” she squinted one eye, “we be headin’ west.” She made a few more pirate sounds then paused. Not only was she not sure which way the town was from Hawthorne’s cabin, she was also not sure which way she had left his cabin.

But she was one with the Earth. It responded to her, could tell her which way to go. But what was in town for her? To stay the night at the Inn so they could report back to Hawthorne as to her whereabouts? Her skin crawled with the lack of privacy in this town. Either that, or the temperature had dropped severely.

No, she didn’t want to go back to town. She wanted to find someone that she trusted not to run back to Hawthorne with her location. She thought for a moment, bit her lip, even tapped her foot on the broken concrete beneath her feet until she had made the decision.

And just like that, just the thought and the decision being made, a pulse of magic, shades of peacock blue and purples that wound its way through the trees. She watched the path, bathed in the beauty of the light it created. It felt cool, soothing, alluring. It reminded her of laying back in the river as the cool rapids rushed across her naked body in the heart of summer. She reached out to touch the light, to feel its presence on her fingertips. The sensation reminded her of that same water, the coolness of it somehow soothing and refreshing, even in the chill of the night.

She was sure that if she hadn’t been drinking, and if she had tried to practice as much as she had told Hawthorne she did, she could have found his home with her eyes closed. The earth would have led her right to him. But the circumstances weren’t ideal for such endeavors into her magical talents, so she was startled when she stumbled upon a gravel road that hid beneath a canopy of leafless trees. Even more-so was she startled when a battered truck began trudging down the uneven path. She stepped back, far enough that the tress protected her, but not so much to be hidden.

She knew the truck as soon as she saw the slightly loose headlight bobble with a dip in the road. She suddenly felt extremely dumb. What was she thinking? Flirtation and sideways glances weren’t an invitation to show up at his home unannounced! And what if he had plans? What if other people were there? What if his gossipy cousin was there? Such a dumb idea. Just so stupid. The headlights hit her right in the eyes, making her squint and step back slightly. The truck rounded the slight corner before her and drove past, kicking dirt and gravel in its wake.

Had he seen her? Would he stop? Or was she going to have to “walk of shame” to his house without even getting anywhere with him? She covered her eyes as best she could while still looking behind her. The red lights of his tail lights flickered bright for a moment, then back to normal, then bright again. Dakota couldn’t help but laugh, imagining him in his truck, trying to decide if he saw what he thought he saw. There was another slight flicker and then the brakes engaged hard. The gravel crunched wickedly in the evening air.

Then just the rumbling of the truck. He just sat there. Did he know what she was doing there? What she wanted? Was he gonna make her walk to his truck?! She stood there for a moment longer and then laughed. He sure as hell was. That asshole.

She jogged just slightly, soft plumes of breath lighting up a bright red as she passed the taillights. Her nose tingled with a chill and her hands and cheeks were almost frosty, but her insides felt on fire. Her body tingled with hope and anticipation and a whole lot of fear. She was not good at putting herself out there. She would normally rather be alone than let anyone see that side of her.

She opened the door and the warmth blasted her like a tidal wave. She closed her eyes and a sigh that sounded a bit erotic slipped through the air as she soaked it in. “Did you get a little chilly out there?”

She sucked a breath in deep and exhaled slowly. “yes, just a bit.”

She opened her eyes to see his angular, strong face staring questionably at her. His lip curled. “So, Dakota, what were you doing out here in my neck of the woods.”

She smiled back at him and had to force the onset of overwhelming arousal to calm down before she spoke. “Well, Jerome. I just so happened to be looking for you.”

 

 

 

 

Chapter 5

 

Meanwhile, on Torg:

Xatka scratched her head and pushed her grey-violet hair behind her ears as she poured Prake into her cup. The nutty scent wafted into the air and she closed her eyes for just a moment. It wasn’t super early, but it felt like it was. Like it was the butt-crack of dawn and she was trying to find some will to live. It only took a couple sips for her tired grey eyes to register the mess, not that she was surprised by it. She also wasn’t in the mood to clean. She was never in the mood to clean.

Her full cheeks puffed out with annoyance before setting her narrow jaw in as much determination as she could muster. She couldn’t sit down without doing at least a little something. She grabbed the take-out containers that she and Skor had destroyed last night and tossed them into the trash. She pressed the button and listened as the machine crunched it down to mere nothingness. A few minutes later, her roommate came out, clad in her pink robe and something that resembled a bun on top of her head. “Morning Shilen.”

“Morning Chat.” No one seemed to be able to pronounce her name here. It wasn’t uncommon for traditional Elven names to be mispronounced, but she never thought it was that hard. Still, she had made the mistake of explaining that the beginning of her name sounded like “chat” but with a “T” sound right before it. So she would forever be Chat to anyone on this god-forsaken planet. “Did you already make Prake? Oh Billy, that smells amazing.”

Shilen didn’t waste time with making herself a cup. For a morning person, she was looking rather rough. Of course, she had broken up with her partner two weeks before. “Hey, so Skor stayed the night with me last night.”

She stopped and looked at Xatka, giving her a grim stare. “I know.”

Xatka cringed. “Sorry, we tried to be quiet.”

“Sadly, I know that to be true. You only called out two Gods this time.” Shilen plopped down on the plush chair and sipped her Prake. “So,” she blew softly on the piping hot liquid, “he still asleep?”

“Probably.”

Shilen nodded. “I didn’t think you’d ever see him again.”

“I didn’t either, if I’m being completely honest.”

“What changed?” Shilen asked with an heir of nonchalance that Xatka knew was fake. Shilen was the gossip queen of the War Quarter. That also meant that Xatka couldn’t be completely honest with her, not if she wanted to make sure the wrong person found out. She was bad enough that Xatka wondered how she was able to keep her mouth shut about her activist group.

So, instead, she told her a small truth, something that he had mentioned. “He was telling me about a protest.” Her eyes lifted but she stayed silent. Of the three races born from Torg, the Pursily-Moc were the most violent in nature. Times were starting to change with their race, but as she had seen on countless other planets, civil wars would have to break out between them to make a change. Shilen inhabited the change that was coming. She was among those who fought to end the enslavement of the Precliacie. She was part of what this planet needed.

To look at the Pursily-Moc, you would think them to be from Earth. Their skin tone and hair color, although the natural combinations differed, were almost identical to what you would find on Earth. Shilen’s skin was like rich chocolate, with a thick, curly mass that was a natural shade of white wine.  She had beautifully pouty lips and doe-like eyes that seemed almost too large. Her high, delicate cheekbones complimented it nicely, though, and made her look innocent and young. And it helped her when she was scheming.

Shilen smiled behind her cup and sipped loudly. “Shilen, please tell me you’re not gonna be stupid about this.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, roomie.”

“Shilen, please-“

“-Chatka, stop.” It took everything in her to do so, but Xatka did. She took a sip of her Prake and looked away. She looked down at the muddy-colored brew and then stood with a fierce abruptness, stepping by Shilen towards the kitchen. “Chat, please don’t stomp away.”

“I’m not stomping away, Shilen.”

“Oh really?”

She slammed her cup down hard enough to be thankful it was a metal core. “Yes, really. I need more sugar.”

Shilen stood up and followed Xatka into the room, pausing by the large window that looked out at the War Quarter of a once grand capital. “Chatka, we just…” she paused there, looking out at the world, thoughts floating through her mind so quickly that there was no way Xatka could read anything, even if she was good at it. “Things need to change. We can’t keep doing things the way we’ve done in the past.”

“And a couple of activists are gonna stop it?”

“Maybe.” Xatka made a noise of indignancy as she stirred the drink. “You don’t even know what we’re planning.” Shilen exclaimed too loudly.

“You’re planning to break into Lord Olan’s estate and break slaves free.”

“Wait, how did you-“

Xatka came to stand beside Shilen, sharing in the cityscape of a broken city. Skeletons of once-elaborate buildings still clung to the horizon like a bad omen. Generic buildings like the one they lived in poked through, housing those brave enough to live here. “He doesn’t even live here, Shi.” Xatka glanced at her door for the briefest of moments, wondering if he really was just sleeping. Of course, it didn’t matter with him. “He doesn’t even live on the same continent. If he heard about it, then others have, too. And if others have heard, then most likely Olan’s people already know. If you do this…” She met Shilen’s eyes, a coppery brown that looked as though they could see through your soul, “people could die, and not for the right reasons.”

Shilen’s nose curled as if the words were pungent. “We would be freeing slaves. How is that not the right reason?”

“Is it the right reason if everyone gets killed and not even one slave is released? Shilen, if you have this all wrong, you’re gonna get a lot of innocent people killed. Including yourself.” They stood in silence, sipping their drinks and watched as a small craft flew over their building a little too closely. Probably kids. “Olan is the product of what’s wrong, not the source.”

Shilen scratched her nose, a habit she had of doing when she was upset. “I gotta go get dressed.” She eyed Xatka, looking for acceptance, or approval. Xatka wasn’t sure, but what she saw saddened her. Shilen set her cup on the counter and walked away to her room.

Xatka wasn’t sure that it got through to her. Even if she still planned on doing it, she hoped that it would at least make her rethink her strategy. Shilen had left her room shortly after and headed out. Most likely to go talk with her group. Xatka was sitting in the chair, turned towards the window. The bright, late morning sun was a comfort she needed at that point and she relished in it, pushing her feet out to feel the warmth heat her skin.

“Morning, beautiful.” Skor was not a morning person. She turned to stare at him. He was a beautiful man, a lighter skin with just a hint of blue that you almost couldn’t see if he was tanned. He was definitely a mix of things, but he couldn’t deny that he was Precliacie. He stopped. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Who are you and what have you done with Skor Kaska?”

His beautiful smile showed just slightly and he continued his confident gait. “I’ve been up for a while.”

“So you heard everything.” He nodded as he opened the refrigerator. “There’s some juice in the back if you’re not wanting Prake.”

“I thought you usually kept some iced.”

“Look behind the cream.” He nodded and began his own morning ritual. “Do you think she’s gonna listen to me?”

Skor was stunned into stillness for a moment. “Honestly?” Xatka nodded. She knew he could see colors that surrounded people, like a mood ring, almost. The colors, comprised of the magic that was attracted to a person or object, could be read if the right person was doing the reading. Skor was extremely gifted, which was why he was such a good private investigator. “She was in defense, babe. She may listen if she tells one of her team members what you said and they agree. But just coming from you? No.”

“But why?”

He smiled and went to sit on the couch. He patted his bare chest, urging her to come to him. He had a way about him. He was so casually aware of his charm and good looks that it made him that much more attractive. He was the only man that ever broke her walls down. He was her favorite. She stood up, very aware of her own body, knowing full well how much he loved it. Xatka was slightly curvy with a lot of muscle, but she held it like a queen. Probably because she was technically a princess.

She sat beside him, draping her bare legs across his. He ran his hand against her overly tanned skin and sighed. “You know, you keep spending that much time in the sun, you’re gonna end up with skin problems. Like wrinkles.”

“I’m part Elven,” she ran her free hand across her slightly pink cheeks, “we don’t crack.”  She tapped him on the chest in rhythm with her words as she said “and you are trying to change the subject.”

His laugh was electric and she laughed along with him. “Xatka, you are beautiful, smart, and one hell of a soldier. Probably the best I’ve ever known.”

“Probably?”

“Okay, you’re the best. Period. But no matter how good of a friend she is to you, there will still be a part of her that sees you as the law and herself as the one breaking it.”

“But I’m not bound by the Torgaian Laws.” He lifted a brow in question and she rolled her eyes. “Alright, fine. Yes, I do have to abide by their laws to an extent, but the slavery is something that Staerlanians are trying to stop.”

“You’re still on the side of the law when it comes to extreme activism.”

Xatka felt a sudden stream of exhaustion at the mere thought of what that would mean. She laid her head down on the back of the couch and closed her eyes, trying to fight the headache that began to form between her brows. “How is it that, after three years, you still know how to hit me just right in the feels?”

He sighed, his narrow cheeks lifting slightly and his mouth fell open as if he could see something that she couldn’t and he didn’t know how to say it. “Hi, I’m Skor Kaska. I’m a private detective. I can read people like a well-written map. You’re no different.” She smacked him playfully at his sarcasm. He laughed and kissed her; a kiss that began turning into something far more intimate when her Com went off. She reached over Skor, trying to ignore the feel of his hand teasing her breasts as she did. She grabbed the Com and sat back down as she smacked playfully at his hand. “It’s my brother. Behave.”

“Melo or Anstend?”

“Anstend.”

Skor waved a hand, “Eh, he doesn’t give a shit.”

“It’s a video call. Behave.” She flipped her finger up on the near clear machine and Anstend’s face popped up in mid-air before her. She pulled back. “Hello dear brother.”

Anstend didn’t look much like her. His skin was far too pale and his hair was almost obsidian in color, although he made his hair that color. Okay, so their features were pretty similar. She was still a better fighter. “Xatka! What’s up? He Skor!”

Skor waved hello before Xatka said “What’s going on now?”

“No small talk? Isn’t that customary when you call someone?” She gave him a rye stare and he laughed. “Okay fine. So, you remember that lady we helped about a month or so ago? That whole fight on Earth thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, she needs to get to Torg.”

It took her a moment to understand. “Okay, so I’m assuming this lady, she’s not wanting to come to Torg for its resorts. What’s going on?”

He put his hands up with defeat. “I don’t really know. Ontri talked to her this morning about this dream she’s having about a slave.”

She knew this was about to get hairy. “And how does she know it’s Torg?”

“Two moons, and the girl mentioned The Festival.”

“Straelania has two moons. And there are some people who worship Iskobill there.”

“The girl’s a slave, Xatka. The chances of that are extremely high.”

“Okay, you have a point. So, what about this slave?”

He smiled wide at Xatka to the point that she began to feel uneasy. “We have to save her.”