Page 35 of Resisting the Alien Rider

“I’m not going to fight with it,” Killian explained quickly, his words sliding into each other. “I’m going to throw it.”

“Garrek already tried that!”

“Not at the idra. Back to Garrek.”

“Are you sure? What if you throw it too high? Or you hit Garrek by accident? What if-”

Killian’s eyes flashed. His chest puffed up.

“I used to wait for Garrek to fall asleep and then I’d steal his knife –thatknife – and practise throwing it at tuhla fruits on top of fenceposts. I did this every night.”

“Um. Does Garrek know about this?”

“Of course not,” Killian said impatiently. “I just said I waited for him to fall asleep first.”

The sound of tearing leather made both of us jump. The creature was ripping Garrek’s vest from his body. For some unfathomable reason, Garrek appeared to be trying to pull it back.

“Do it,” I told Killian. I slammed the blood-soaked handle into his palm.

Killian raised the knife, took a slow, strengthening breath, and focused ahead. He suddenly looked much older, his gaze steady, his body poised to throw.

It was so quick that I nearly missed it. If I had blinked, I would have.

For the tiniest of moments, Killian’s eyes flickered with a warm, rich colour other than white.

That electric white returned.

And then he threw.

Killian shouted Garrek’s name at the exact same moment that I screamed, “Knife!”

Garrek paused in his leather tug-o’-war just long enough to twist and raise his arm.

Blessed fucking be. He caught the knife.

By the handle this time, too.

An ecstatic cheer ripped from my throat. I threw my arms around Killian, jumping for joy as Garrek hefted the knife. He brought it down hard and fast against the pincers, and the creature recoiled.

The next movements were a blur, punctuated by the occasional hiss from the creature or grunt from Garrek. His knife flashed in the moonlight. His tail thrashed, his back and legs straining as he stabbed.

I yelped when something heavy fell to the ground.

It wasn’t Garrek. It was the body of the idra.

Garrek followed soon-after, his boots hitting the dust. He hoisted the dead, spindly-legged thing onto his back and stalked into the trees. A few minutes later, he was back, spiderless, with his knife put away in his boot.

When he cleared the trees, I didn’t run to him the way I’d run to Killian.

I moved towards him slowly, as if in a trance, as if there was nowhere else for my shaking legs to take me except to him. No matter how long it took to get there.

He stopped walking when he saw me approach. Something raw, maybe even pain, contorted his features when his white eyes met mine. His breath snagged, and he watched me without moving.

But when I finally stopped before him, it wasGarrek who reached for me, not the other way around. The sob I’d held back for Killian broke out of me when Garrek’s arms clamped like iron around my back. He didn’t say anything and neither did I. He just held me as I shook, emptying myself through my tears.

When I finally stilled, I thought for the briefest of moments that I felt his mouth pressed against the top of my head.

And then he pulled away.

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