Page 65 of Alien God

Nervous anticipation quickened my steps. Wylfrael kept pace easily beside me, his long, leather-clad legs propelling him with controlled grace down the carpeted stairs like a wolf padding through snow.

We made our way through the empty entrance hall. I could picture Maerwynne’s lithe, red-winged form by the door so easily, even though it felt like it had been ages since he’d been here.

“Come.” Wylfrael drew my attention away from the front door. “We are not going that way.”

Instead, he led me into the kitchen, towards the same door I’d once sprinted out of. Before opening the door, though, Wylfrael began what appeared to be a search of the clean, quiet kitchen. He moved cauldrons, scoured shelves, muttering something that sounded a lot like, “Where did Aiko put it?” Having no idea what he was looking for, and not really interested in helping him with whatever it was, I allowed myself to gaze around the kitchen in a way I hadn’t gotten the chance to do before.

In some ways, it was what I’d imagined a medieval castle’s kitchen to look like, but with its own alien, or Sionnachan, I supposed, twist. There was no power source that I could see besides the fiery rocks that seemed capable of burning for days. A huge one was in a massive crystal hearth, casting a warm, hearty glow over the space. Smaller fire rocks were placed on high shelves for yet more lighting, illuminating crystal jars, bottles, and stone bowls, as well as what looked like bunches of small stems – maybe herbs – dried out and bound together with what appeared to be leather twine.

There was another doorway in here – one I hadn’t noticed before. I realized, from the sounds I heard, that Wylfrael had gone through it, descending into what was probably a cellar.

I’m alone.

I was alone, somewhere other than my room.

A thoughtless instinct told me to make a run for it. Fuck the fact I had no snowsuit, I just needed to get out of here. Heart slamming, I quickly put that ridiculous notion aside. I’d already tried that once and Wylfrael had stopped me with a mere sweep of his hand through the air.

I examined the kitchen with new eyes, searching for something I could use to my benefit. What that would be, I had no idea.

Until I saw the knives.

I didn’t even think, just ran to the counter where they glimmered, sharp blades of dark crystal and various types of stone. Doubting I had much time, I made my selection quickly, grabbing the first one that looked small enough for me to grip easily and hide but large enough to hurt.

What I would do with it, I had no fucking clue. Wylfrael had healed from bullet wounds as if they’d only been paper cuts, so I doubted I could do any real damage to him if it ever came to that. But even so, I wanted desperately to have it. To know that it was with me, sharper and steadier than any part of my human body could be, and at least more effective than the butter knife I’d kept.

“Planning on doing some cooking? Cutting meat, perhaps?” Wylfrael’s voice cleaved through the air with a deadlier edge than any knife. My head jerked up to find him watching me from the cellar doorway.

Heart in my throat, I switched my knife to my left hand – the hand furthest from him – and hid it behind my back. I was aware of just how stupid that was. It was the action of a child who’d been caught with a cookie before dinner and thought that all evidence would disappear the moment it was out of sight. But that was why I’d wanted the knife in the first fucking place – so that I wouldn’t feel like a powerless child. Not because I was as afraid of Wylfrael as I’d once been, but because I no longer wanted to feel so defenceless and small in a world that wasn’t mine.

“You chose a good one,” Wylfrael said, his voice smooth and cold, like dark ink flowing over crystal. “Very sharp. Will slice through most tissue with ease. Skin. Muscle. Sinew. Even bone.” He came to a stop before me. “Most tissue,” he reiterated. “But not mine, of course.”

He placed something white and fluffy on the counter beside us. He did it slowly, not even looking at me, as if daring me to try to take him out. To see what would happen. I may have been stupid enough to try to hide the knife behind my back, but I didn’t have a death wish. He straightened, his gaze finding me once more, and I knew I’d have to drop it.

“I’d let you keep it,” he said suddenly, surprising me and knocking me off-balance. “Something like this is as useless against me as the other knife I let you have. But unlike that dull little blade,” – his hand shot out, grasping my left arm firmly by the elbow and pulling my hand forward – “this one could do some damage to a Sionnachan. And I will not let that happen.”

“What?” I cried, horrified. “No! I would never hurt Aiko or Shoshen!” The idea was abhorrent. Even though they’d been part of my captivity, the thought of hurting one of them, Jesus Christ, stabbing one of them, made me want to throw up. They were too sweet, too gentle, and I had a sneaking suspicion they didn’t even like that I was being held against my will, but that they were as powerless against Wylfrael as I was. They called him Lord Wylfrael, after all.

As Wylfrael held up my arm between us and the crystal blade of the knife caught the light, I wondered if I was too soft, too kind and sentimental for my own good. Maybe I should have considered hurting Aiko or Shoshen, should have done anything and everything to get out of here – or at least spill some alien blood in the process. Maybe the fact I hadn’t even thought about it when I’d grabbed the knife, hadn’t even considered that I could use it on the Sionnachans, proved how weak I really was. Would compassion like that get me killed?

But I internally rebelled against that line of thinking. In that moment, I made a choice. The choice to hold onto whatever shreds of goodness I could. I wouldn’t let this world, this man, strip my humanity away.

“I wouldn’t hurt them,” I said again, quietly this time, my voice steady and certain. Wylfrael studied my face, his focus boring into me as his hand slid from my elbow to my wrist.

“If you’re a liar, you’re a very good one.”

He squeezed my wrist. With a cry, my fingers snapped open. The knife clattered to the floor between our feet. I didn’t think that Wylfrael had squeezed me particularly hard, especially considering how strong he was, but it had hurt a lot more than expected. Then I remembered the bruise there. Wylfrael appeared to remember it, too, at the exact same moment. His grip eased instantly. He lifted my hand upwards and frowned at the dark splotch on my skin.

“This looks worse than before,” he muttered, shifting his grip so that his fingers and thumb didn’t hide the injury. He was right – like all bad bruises, this one looked a hell of a lot uglier as it started to heal. Though the swelling had faded, the colours were much darker.

“It’s fine,” I said. “It’s healing. We can’t all recover as fast as you.”

He made an unsatisfied “Hmmph” sound deep in his throat, then dropped my hand. He stretched out his fingers, and the knife rose into the air, flying right into his grip. I watched as he set the knife back in its place on the counter. This was the first time I’d seen him use his power to move things without touching them since he’d raised that snow wall.

“How come you’ve never used that kind of power on me?” I thought of all the times he’d grabbed me by my hand or my hair or my shirt. When he was putting that rainbow thing, the web as he’d called it, into my ear, he could have held my entire body in place with his mind and levitated the burning thing, shooting it directly into my ear canal.

“Every stone sky god is naturally inclined to be able to manipulate certain kinds of substances depending on his lineage and homeworld. For me, those substances are things like snow, rock, crystal. Trying to control a creature of flesh and blood would require more energy and would also afford me much less precision.”

He picked up the fluffy thing he’d laid down on the counter. “In short, I’d be as likely to crush you as to control your movements.” He shook out the thing, which I now could see was a garment. “And I’ve already told you, several times now, that I do not plan to kill you.”

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