Cassiel Winters 1: Sky's End (12 page)

Chapter 14

I’m dreaming, I think, because I’m floating, yet I can’t move at all, and that freaks me out. Where am I? I can’t make out anything.
Oh wait
.

I hear something, kind of like a distant echo. A very distant voice . . .

“You are well. You must wake up now. Open your eyes. Wake up.” Words like these are repeated over and over. The voice is vaguely familiar. The words are getting louder and something is on my face. Hands patting my cheeks. This is annoying. Like when Daz used to wake me up for levels. DAZ!

I open my eyes quickly. Only it isn’t Daz.

Dark Eyes is in front of me, and we are both suspended somewhere . . . no real place. He seems relieved to see me, (or that I can see him?), and smiles. Crinkles form at the edges of his eyes, accentuating his handsomeness, which kind of snares you, and holds on.
Look away
.

“There you are,” he says, like we are long lost friends.

“You!” I panic and try to get away from him but it’s like trying to move in thin air. I can’t.

It’s foggy everywhere. I look down but there’s no ground. I panic, thinking I will fall, and I can’t steady my rapid breaths because I can’t move. I notice sharp pain in my head, like the worst headache possible. Immediately, I head toward comfort—the darkness in my mind.

Dark Eyes steps right in my face. He barks, “Look at me! Look at me! Calm down. I would not harm you. I would help you.”

I look at him in the eyes. Black diamonds, reflecting a universe of light. The darkness is gone, and so is the pain.

“Do not go to that place. Listen to me. Take a few deep breaths, and stay calm.”

I do as he says.

But memory kicks in. “So I wasn’t rescued?” The darkness ebbs around my vision, pain finding its way in. I try to hold it off to hear the answer.

Understanding flashes on his face.

“No. But we would not harm you. Please, you must not worsen your emotional state.”

“Did they get away? Tell me!”

He pauses. Confused. Searching. Recognition. “ESE,” he says. “Yes,” he answers quickly, adding, “Listen to me. It is dangerous for you to upset yourself.”

“It wasn’t ESE, was it?” I ask. Somehow I know this.
How do I know this?
“So who was firing on us?”

A knife slowly carves through my brain, no real purpose, and I whimper helpless to prevent it, but he’s grabbed my face and my focus with his concerned expression and the knife has vanished.

“You must please try to maintain a positive emotional state while we are here,” he says gently.

In his face, there’s a calm sky, sensuously soft clouds streaming by, the heated sun gently beaming down on me melting away my worries.
Oh, that’s nice.

He’s not menacing at all, like when I watched him in the record-history I stole. His broad shoulders are draped in a loose, navy smock top, belted with a thick, wide weave of what gives the impression of soft metals. His dark pants are fitted and he’s wearing some kind of glistening animal hide boots. He looks absolutely dreamy. I’ve always said people’s beauty comes from within. I wonder who he is? What does he care about in this life? How does he like to spend a stormy Friday night? Does he have a vice? I want to hear the sound of his laugh. I want to make him laugh.

Wow
.
What a smile
. Those eyes of his seem to twinkle. . . yes! There, they just did it again. Why’s he looking at me like that?

Wait
. Something’s off. He has hair! Thick wavy, dark brown hair. And no markings. What’s going on?

“Where
is
here? Why can’t I move?”

“You can,” he says quickly. “Just try.”

I focus and manage to move my arms and then, without any effort, my entire body.

“How did you do that?”

“I didn’t. You did. You can do absolutely anything you want in here,” he adds, looking around eagerly.

“Where’s here?”

“Your mind.”

My mouth drops open. For no reason I can explain, I believe him.

“Well, get out!”

“I can’t. You need me here in order for you to be here.”

Huh? Forget this
.
I’m so getting him out of here. I’ll just return to the darkness.

“You can’t do that,” he says quickly. “You would die.”

He speaks the truth. How do I know that? What’s going on in here?

You were badly injured in the skirmish. It was my fault and I apologize. I should not have released the field. But the truth is, one more exposure would have stopped your heart.

So what happened to me? And uh, wait, why are we speaking without talking?
Oh, this is so awful. I’ve got to end this.

It does not have to be awful! I would respect your privacy. I promise. You only need to share with me what you choose.

I choose not to share.

I will the blackness forth.

“Listen to me! Look at me! Look at me!” he shouts out loud, bringing me back from my refuge, the darkness.

There. I would explain but you must stay calm and focus on me. You have a concussion. We are rushing you back to our ship where you would be treated. I am interfacing with you in a manner that we call ‘symbiosis’ to ensure you do not slip into a coma.

Liar
. He’s lying. He’s dangerous.

I am not ly—

“Stop reading my thoughts!”

I am not. Well, I am only reading what is on the surface, nothing below.

“How do I know you’re not lying and that you plan to just fish around in here for ESE information?”

His eyebrows lift as if to say,
Get real
. But he doesn’t say anything.

“Why can’t I read your thoughts?”

Because I have much experience with symbiosis. I am blocking you. I wish to emphasis that I have no desire or need to probe your no doubt fertile mind for ESE secrets. We have had spies on Earth for centuries. You yourself told me you are nothing more than a cadet.

Well, his arrogance isn’t just for show
.

I heard that.

“Like I care.”

The truth is, in addition to being in a state of shock over my current situation, I’m deeply disturbed that they have been spying on us for so long.

“So what do you want me for? Why have you taken me?” I ask out loud in my mind.
Oh, this is so terrible
. And yet this state, it’s like being drunk without being intoxicated. I feel no pain. Just energy, and alertness.

I watch him, wary, waiting for an answer. He won’t tell me. I know he won’t. I can ascertain at least that much. The darkness is ebbing closer again, and with it the threat of pain. It’s back.

You must take us someplace happy in here or you would die. Please take us somewhere that you enjoy, that makes you happy.

I’m not taking him anywhere.

You are stubborn. In this, our species are similar. Very well. I would take you somewhere that makes me happy. Do I have your permission?

“No.”

Please. You must come with me. I can’t force you. You must let me take you.

I wonder why he cares so much. And then I think of King, and how far away I am from him and my heart aches a bit. I just want to go home.

Take me to your home then.

“Get out!”

I would have taken him, maybe. But the truth is I don’t have a home. Not a real home. I welcome the darkness because I have nothing. I am nothing. This time when it descends, though, the pain comes rushing in, too, and there’s real danger rather than safety. The darkness is big and black and crushing.

“Come with me!”

I hear Dark Eyes shout above the tidal waves of roaring, snarling pain. Its teeth rip into the back of my skull, and bare down with a bone-cracking ferocity.

“Here. Take my hand.”

A hand reaches down in the darkness.

“Take it!” he yells.

I’m certain this is my last chance. Do I want to live? I think of Daz. My love for him. My hope for him. And I reach up.

In a flash, I find myself in a cozy cottage. I feel . . . safe. I’m standing in a room near a beautiful long table made of some kind of wood I have never seen before. The surface is ebony and so shiny I want to touch it. Bright orange grains blaze through the planks like a tiger skin. The same wood frames the ceiling in big thick beams, and warming rays of sunshine glow into circular windows on one side . . . and the other.
Where am I? A planet with two suns?

You are on Thell’eon. In my mind, of course.

Dark Eyes.

There he is again. Sitting at the head of the table, smug.

I am not smug. Your perceptions are not always right. And I have a name. Do you wish to know it?

“Oh they’re not, are they?” I ask, ignoring his last question and speaking out loud. Rage oozes into me. “How about this: you’re a bastard (literally, I suspect) who has taken me from everything that I care about. Hot or cold?” The minute the words are spoken so is my energy and the weakness wants out, in the form of tears.

He stares back at me angrily and I
feel
all of his pleasantry slips away.
How’s that possible
? Anxiety mounts. “Please, let me go?” I beg. At the same time, the scene begins to fade before my eyes. I’m slipping away. In the haze I’m barely able to make him out. He suddenly stands up at the table, the tall wood chair crashes behind him as he slams his fists down. He shouts some words that don’t translate.

“Look at me! Look at me!” I hear in English. “Think of . . . Daz!” Startled by his mention of Daz, I do what he says. Only I really focus. Slowly, eventually, I’m light again.

He knows about Daz. How does he know?

You thought of this . . . Daz . . . just before you reached for my hand.

I must do a better job protecting my thoughts from him.

He sits down again, physically struggling to hide his frustration. Then he glares at me.

You could at least try to save yourself. For someone who seems to care so much about what is being taken from her, you are very cavalier with your own life.

This stings because he’s right. Then he adds, after a moment,
Who is this Daz?

Before I can properly think to hide it from him, he has the answer. Awareness, surprise,
or is it recognition!
and maybe something else that gives him intense pleasure, flashes on his face.

But he’s surprised again, and I read it: on top of knowing that I know that he knows something about my brother, he’s surprised that I have just read his thoughts.
I did. I did just read his thoughts.

“You know him! Where is he?” I demand.

He rolls his eyes. Anger and frustration power me. He’s blocking me again. I will know how he knows Daz! Menacing shadows outline the periphery of this moment, like in a painting.

He mutters some other words that don’t translate again. Definitely probably swear words just before he shouts, “Please try not to let the dark in! I assure you I have never encountered this human before. Understand I cannot keep the darkness at bay without your help despite my superior skills!”

I let his words, shouted at me with huffiness, sink in a bit. I decide to come back to this later for my own good. I know, not sure how, that I won’t get any information banging against the walls in his mind.

Trying to avoid his intense stare, I assess my situation with a forced calmness. I don’t feel my physical form so much as the idea of it in my mind. Weird.

“Where is this place?”

This is my home.

A burst of positive energy mingled with great pride hits me.

I have brought you to a place that brings me much joy.

I take in my surroundings again. I try to remain calm and go along with this weird encounter, if only because I’m pretty sure I’m in danger otherwise.

“Why is the table so big?” I ask the first thing that comes to mind.

I have sired many offspring.

Oh. Well.

I wonder how many wives he has.
Cassiel!

His eyebrows raise in confusion.

He pauses, lost in thought.

Wait. Did he . . .? “Did you just probe my mind?”

Yes, but only to reassure myself you are not letting the darkness in.

“Don’t do that again!”

My apologies.

He’s not sorry at all.

The unanswered question lingers between us.

You could say Thell’eon have many, many wives, although we do not live with them or our children.

I sense my cheeks flush, but when I touch them as he continues, I’m surprised they’re cool.

The male children I have sired do spend time at my home and we often eat at this table together.

“Why don’t you spend time with your daughters?” I ask. “Aren’t good enough?”

Why would you say such a thing?

His vehemence surprises me. There’s another pause. Where’s he now?

“Stop doing that!” I shout.

Apologies, it is just so much easier, and fascinating. I had heard from reports that your species have significant gender imbalances. But to experience it in your mind firsthand, I am sorry for you.

This irks me.
We
have gender imbalances? Who is he to judge?

“You don’t know the first thing about humans,” I tell him, meaning it.

And you do not know the first thing about Thell’eons. Besides, you misunderstand. I am not judging. I just think ours is the better way.