Cassiel Winters 1: Sky's End Read online

  I can’t believe I’m hesitating. The truth is I don’t think any H2H move will cut—

  He steps right up to me and in one swift movement I could not have foreseen or prevented, he smashes my wrist hard with his hand, forcing me to let go of my Derri. My only powered weapon hits the ground with a clatter.

  I’m focused on the searing pain in my hand, ow, fighting through it in order to anticipate his next move—to restrain me or kill me—when he grabs the back of my head with his free hand and yanks me near at my waist with his other hand, which is still holding his gun, now pointed behind me. This, I’m not expecting.

  Breathe.

  Can’t! My hands are pushing against his chest to protect myself, as if that could make a difference. His size is overwhelming, and when I look up into his green eyes, so mesmerizing, I don’t see an alien exactly.

  He mutters something softly in his raspy voice that does not translate, and focuses on my mouth, leaning in just inches from my face. He inhales deeply, his nostrils flaring slightly.

  I remain still, sensing that nothing is the right thing to do.

  But . . . he’s confused, like he can’t figure out why I’m not doing anything. Now I’m confused. Oh. Maybe as a human woman, he expects me to ravage him.

  But all at once he seems to not care and starts to lift me up to him in one easy movement, my thighs pressed against his, as though he’s going to . . . kiss me? Or maybe harm me in some alien way with his mouth? Now I’m really losing it!

  Take your only fighting chance! Do what Lt. Lazarus taught us. The opposite of whatever your brain is telling you. Since my brain is saying run!, I relax a little in his hold. This seems to alleviate some of his tension. I move my hands up onto his bare shoulders, which feel abnormally warm. As my feet lift off the ground, I panic.

  As quickly as I can, I press down on his shoulders giving myself the leverage I need to knee him as hard as possible right in the spot I had just coveted.

  Now! I give it all I have, clenching my core muscles to create as much force as possible.

  For one terrible moment, I fear that a knee to the groin will not have any effect on a Thell’eon male. But he withdraws his grip slightly, tensing as if in pain, and releases me. I drop back to the ground lightly. His lips open, but nothing comes out. The markings above his eyebrows and near his scalp have bunched together in a way that was likely never intended. His eyes seem almost human in their incapacitated, watery state. It’s that same look of sheer disbelief, like I have just done the impossible. What is it with these guys?

  I spin away from him as he keels over. But my feet shoot out from me, and I hit the floor backward, hard. Sharp pain sears through my skull. I literally see stars for a second.

  He yanked me down using my ponytail!

  No time! You have to get away, now! I hurl myself into a reverse somersault, nearly planting my butt in his face. He’s making a disturbing moaning sound. Good! I grab his trunk of a forearm with both hands, put one knee on it, and attempt a maneuver that is sure to break it and free my hair. However his arm is way too big; mine are too weak.

  Frantically, I push against his arm giving it all I have got, and I think I even scream, “Let go!” a couple of times. Finally something useful pops in my mind. My knife! I will cut my hair! I reach for it and he must think I will cut him, or the pain is too much, because—miracles—he lets go.

  I lurch forward off the floor, grabbing his gun with one hand, which he must have dropped at some point, maybe to grab my hair, and replace my knife in its holster with my other hand. Run! Left, then two rights, or was it right and two lefts? Shit!

  His gun is so heavy. Toss it!

  No, you might need it. I’m just about to take the first left (definitely left), when I hear the strange sound, like a synthesized laser in LightvisionTM.33, over my shoulder. The wall bursts into nothing but an empty hole, charred with black soot.

  Are they using real fire on me? Why not a stun setting?

  Because this isn’t pretend!

  My sense of reality shifts, creating a brand new sensation, kind of like all the oxygen has been sucked out the room.

  As I take the left, an unarmed Thell’eon far across the room working on what appears to be controls, spins around. He’s startled, but reacts quickly enough, coming for me despite the gun I’m pointing at him. I press what looks like the trigger but nothing happens. I waste no time grabbing my knife from my leg holster with my right hand and aim for his chest. He manages to leap out of the way. It was a terrible throw anyway. Now you’ve lost your knife!

  Keep searching! Don’t focus on the sound, like an army of boots bearing down. I take the right, and scan the room to spot what appears to be a set of transporting pads, with a smaller console.

  Joy!

  The room also appears to be a dead end. Who cares!

  Oh, wait, the dead end is only an illusion. The room just has no wall. It drops off, and I peer down to see that it actually drops for what looks like miles. Holy stars! Separate floor openings are staggered at different projections until the distance is too great and there is only darkness.

  I swing around, and rest my decoder in front of the console just as a string of Thell’eons bound into the room at top speed, halting about five feet in front of me, gun-daggers pointed.

  “Hold your fire!” rings in my earpiece, not a moment too soon.

  The console, which is as high as my neck, is my only protection, so I stand there, panting loudly, not daring to take my eyes off of the mini armada in front of me. I desperately want to search for the charger coordinates so I can send myself back. Sharp needles prickle at me—just sweat. My decoder is silently downloading information from their ship. Will they know?

  At least a half dozen Thell’eon are standing in the room, including the guy I almost knifed. I notice they are uniformly big, though some are slightly taller than others. And hot. There’s no other way to describe them. It’s like they represent different variations of ideal facial symmetry. One licks his lips. Another examines me as though he can’t decide whether he will choose me or not. My sex is not lost on them, I realize suddenly, and my general fear crystallizes into one single fear. It is the only reason I have survived this long.

  The sea of black and silver guns and uniforms open up to let through a Thell’eon wearing a long dark gray cloak made of what looks like microscopic chain-mail over a thin gray shirt that contours another chiseled chest and stomach. Honestly, they’re commonplace here.

  But . . . our eyes meet, and I swear I have never seen a more handsome or fierce or handsomely fierce man in my life. I forget to conceal my facial expression. He’s the definition of man and . . . and . . . sex. Literally, that is his appeal. Its pull is soft and warm and persuasive. I find myself admiring his intelligent eyes, so dark they seem black. Tattoos or markings, or whatever those things are, accent his strong brow, contour his cheekbones, and one on his chin creates a goatee effect. I can tell by his facial stubble that he would have dark brown hair. I notice he’s breathing a little heavy, like he had run to catch up with the others. Given how fit he is, he must have come some distance.

  He eyes me carefully, first with disbelief and then disgust. He claps his hands together suddenly, and laughs, meanly, causing me to jump a little. The spell is only partly broken.

  “So this is what ESE sends?” His voice is deep and melodic. “A female . . . child,” he adds, eyeing my face.

  He’s very angry, though not exactly at me. You can tell he’s trained his anger, like you train a dragon. “Step away from the—”

  I’m shocked by his attitude, his mention of spying for ESE, but mostly by his arrogance. Plus, I think his assessment of me is a bit unfair, since I did get this far. But I’m too petrified to protest.

  “I know your translator is working. Step! Away! Fr
om! The!—” he shouts, enunciating every word with a harsh tone, each word progressively snider.

  I shrink, and slowly move out from the console, holding the gun pointed down. Why won’t it work for me? I leave the decoder resting there, quietly downloading information. I rub my hand on the side of my pants to get rid of some of the sweat. Despite my incredible fear, I’m still drawn to him. I finally understand why moths are trapped by the bright light . . .

  I’m incredibly exposed, as these men take me in. They’ve all done what Green Eyes did, stand prouder, as though I may feel free to inspect their merchandise in turn. Weird. Only the leader remains unfazed and somehow this disappoints me briefly. What is wrong with you?

  There’s a ruckus behind me, and Green Eyes emerges from the group, fully recovered, apparently. He has murder written on his face. Again.

  I would laugh, if the situation weren’t so desperate. Oh. I know what I’m experiencing. Extraordinary anger. Finally!

  “For your information, ESE did not send me!” I shout. “You translocated me. Now translocate me back!”

  For a moment Dark Eyes is surprised by something. My outburst? But then he recovers.

  “You expect me to believe that?” he sneers.

  Desperate, I touch my clavicle where the damaged blocker chip is located. This movement startles the soldiers, who tense as a group. Dark Eyes holds up his hand and they calm.

  “Look, I don’t know what happened.” I actually sound as scared as I feel. “I-I have a chip right here that is supposed to-to prevent this kind of thing from happening.” Am I stuttering? “It’s still here. Maybe-maybe it malfunctioned.”

  He stares me down. I’m surprised when a tear rolls down my cheek.

  “You can just send me back,” I add, meaning it. “No real harm has been done. I’m only a cadet.” Did I just say that? He appears even more pissed off. And yet, I’m still talking. “We-we were looking for one of our operatives on that planet. That’s all. Next thing I know, I’m on your ship, with Green Eyes over there all up in my space.” I glare at Green Eyes when I say it, and see the exact opposite of the kind of expression I was hoping for.

  I rotate back to Dark Eyes quickly. “I’m just trying to get back to my charger! You must return me. This is highly illegal!” I add, attempting a tone of moral outrage. Technically, there are no laws, yet, across galaxies. I inhale deeply.

  On the face of it, it seems pretty reasonable to me. Hey, so you accidentally translocated me. Just return to sender; no harm, no foul.

  The leader shifts and crosses his arms, still staring at me, but if I’m not mistaken, the tension has dissipated. Does he have a conscience, perhaps? Green Eyes is about to intervene, and no doubt prevent any hope I have, when a sense of familiarity overcomes me. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!

  Not now!

  I really can’t be distracted by a déjà vu. But there’s no stopping it and then, I simply can’t believe my eyes. One minute I am standing here, feeling like I have stood here before, which is weird, because I have definitely never been here before. And then it splits into another scene. Only this time, shock vibrates through me. In the second vision, I’m looking up at Dark Eyes, and he’s looking at me like he knows me, like, I mean, knows me. Holy shit, he’s about to, yup, he just put his hand around my head, leaning in to—

  The vision lasts barely a second. As soon as it over, I stagger a bit. When I recover, Green Eyes is gawking at me. He shouts, pointing at me, “Sift!”

  Huh? What is he talking about? Sift is the weapon we are looking for.

  The energy in the room literally transforms. I can’t say how, but suddenly I don’t feel like prey so much as a bounty.

  There is a difference, actually.

  Dark Eyes, shocked, looks at Green Eyes, me, and back at him, questioningly, his mouth partially open.

  Green Eyes repeats what he just said, certain.

  The leader turns back to me.

  Yup. They’re eyeing me differently, evaluating me in an entirely different way than before.

  “What did you just see?” the leader asks me, urgently.

  This catches me off guard. Does he mean the déjà vu? That can’t be. Green Eyes is swallowing me whole. He didn’t see it, did he?

  “What. Did. You. Just. See?” asks the leader, angrily.

  I return his stare, terrified.

  I mean, who knows what I just saw, really? I sure as gravity have no idea. I’ve spent my whole life not knowing.

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

  “She’s lying,” says Green Eyes, excited.

  I’m really hating him now.

  I glance between the two. They are looking at each other with excitement. Whatever’s going on here is not good. I need to break up their little moment.

  “I don’t know what he’s talking about! Please! Just send me back!”

  The leader studies me with curiosity. He doesn’t seem angry anymore. Actually, he seems really excited.

  When he realizes I’m waiting for an answer, he says, “No.”

  Just like that. No. And he smiled when he said it.

  He takes a step toward me.

  I take a step back, forgetting the precipice. Shit. I glance over my shoulder. Less than one foot away!

  When I turn back, Dark Eye’s hands are up in a ‘stop’ gesture. I must look pretty desperate, because he takes a step back, tilting his head to the side, trying to seem less threatening. It’s not working.

  Without taking his eyes off me, he barks an order that does not translate. In response, most of the Thell’eon back out of the room, leaving him, Green Eyes, and two soldiers.

  Uh, only slightly less intimidating thanks.

  I glance quickly over my shoulder again. Maybe I can jump? I am light. With a strong enough leap—

  “You’ll never make it,” says Dark Eyes. “You will not be harmed. I promise you,” he adds, without wavering his eye contact, as though he can enthrall me or something. But it’s an empty comment, like he read it in a manual entitled Communicating With Frightened Humans.

  “Am I supposed to believe that?” I ask snidely.

  The only sign of surprise at my tone he offers is one slightly raised eyebrow.

  A sense of reckless abandon comes over me as it sinks in I have no other options and nothing to lose since clearly they don’t plan to kill me . . . for a while. Before he can respond, in one record-setting fast move, I throw the gun at him, jump to my right, grab the decoder (when I see it is within reach), and take the one extra step I have before pushing myself off the landing.

  What are you doing?!

  Holy stars!

  I was hoping the one-step leap would give me the extra momentum I need to get to the nearest floor, across, two levels down, projecting out past the floor above it by at least five feet. But the instant I’m airborne, I realize I have greatly underestimated the distance, by several feet or more. I have no chance of making it to the nearest level.

  You fool. Regret doesn’t begin to sum up all I have lost in one rash decision. The bottom of my feet tingle, a result of weightlessness and their own recognition they’ll never touch ground again, I suppose.

  The instinct to survive is far greater than any rational thought, and I find myself actually attempting to run, in thin air, to the other landing, as if that would work. I’m pretty near frantic when a warm body wallops against me, arms wrap around my waist, pushing us across instead of down, just in time to reach the edge of the second level.

  He lands on his feet, with me in his arms. Amazing! But the momentum forces him to release me to break his fall. He doesn’t quite manage this in time, and I’m crushed.

  The additional weight is gone just as quickly as it struck, and a strong arm scoops me
up and flips me over like a Panju Card.

  Dark Eyes.

  On all fours above me, scanning me, concerned.

  “Are you hurt?” he asks.

  He’s fucking enormous on top of me, and in addition to some pain from landing hard on my boobs (they are not small) and my face, I experience the excruciating agony of being winded.

  Yes, the answer is yes.

  I keel forward, fighting the fear that the ability to inhale will never come. His coat’s draped on both sides of me, and I spot something black and handle-like that looks like it might be a weapon in one of his pockets. I instinctively snatch it and am disappointed that it does not appear to be a weapon, or anything useful. I slip it in my pant pocket anyway. He doesn’t notice the theft as I rock back and forth slightly from the agony.

  “Are you hurt?” he asks a second time.

  Tenderness softens his expression. This is wholly unexpected. I manage to shake my head, but still can’t breathe.

  “You would gain breath in a moment. Just rest your stomach.”

  I heed his advice as best as I can, while it sinks in that I’ve just run out of chances.

  Finally, my chest and stomach unclench, and I rest my head back on the floor, taking in big gulps of air, eyes closed. Is there no worse sensation than having the wind knocked out of you? It must be what you feel like just before you die. I wonder if I’m going to die soon.

  The strangest calm comes over me. If Daz is dead, so help me, someone will suffer. I will make sure of it.

  This thought renews my spirit somewhat, as three sets of feet land with thuds around us. The others have made the jump effortlessly. Is this how these guys travel between floors? I look up at Dark Eyes, who is watching me. Why’s he lingering over me?