Page 43 of Alien God

“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?”

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