Page 9 of Orion: Galaxy Huntress

The power of the cosmos flowed in mine and my sister’s veins. That was why Zeus had sent me here, to fight the Umbra and save my sisters. “And the Umbra want to feed on the starlights?” My stomach tightened in preparation of the confirmation.

Myra ripped the shell covering from the package and poured boiling water from the device that roared. “Yes, they drain the starlight’s magic, absorb it, and kill them. It makes the Umbra incredibly powerful and strong. It’s like a drug to them.”

“Drug?” Another word I needed to learn.

“Addictive. Like sugar.” Myra shook a clay pot at me that tinkled with the sound of tiny grains inside.

“Sugar?”

“You know. Sweet. You really aren’t from around here, huh?” She slid a golden slab across the counter to me that read Twix. “Try this.”

The food crinkled as I picked it up. Strange. It had a sleek outer layer with two long fingers inside. I’d never seen anything like it. Curious to taste it, I lifted it to my mouth and bit into it. Sharp edges slashed at my gums and the coppery scent reminded me of blood. Myra laughed hard at me, and the heat of embarrassment stung me as she snatched the sweet food from my grasp, removing the golden skin, exposing two brown fingers. I took one when she offered them, biting into the soft treat, into something crunchy and sticky.

“By the gods, what is this delicious morsel?” I twisted it back and forth, examining the layers inside. Pale cookie, sticky caramel level, coated in a brown skin. A burst of pure sugar on my tongue. Very good, but I preferred the contrast of tartness or saltiness of the cheese and olives with honey eaten in ancient Greece. Or the berry flavor of the figs we’d eat to help our meals digest.

“It’s a Twix.” Myra laughed again, her eyes studying me like I was the strange one. I was a stranger to this new world. “Don’t tell me you’ve never tried candy?”

“Never.” I shook my head, taking another sample of the sweet, groaning as the crunchy, sticky, malty flavors mixed.

Myra chuckled and shook her head, emptying what looked like herbs from a silver sachet similar to the Twix’s skin, into the noodles. This she mixed in with a fork, twisting the water and things she called noodles. Fork! An instrument I actually recognized! Only we used two prongs not four. Maybe this land wasn’t so different from mine. The young witch repeated this with the second bowl of noodles and pushed it in front of me.

“On top of feeding you lunch, I insist on repaying you for saving me,” she said, twirling the long, stringy noodles on her fork. “I can pay you or make you up a spell if you want.”

The shifter’s bite burned on my neck and his branding on my breast. I touched them both. He’d marked me and could track me. I didn’t need a wolf shifter getting in my way when he could jeopardize or complicate my mission. Stormy’s possessive, dominant eyes flashed in my mind, making my spine slink with cold fingers and my heart beat faster and warm with a hearty glow.

“The shifter’s bite and mark.” I rubbed at the dull ache, doing little to relieve it. “Have you got a spell to remove it?”

My heart twisted, protesting at the request. Damn thing encouraged me to lean down to sniff Stormy’s scent on his jacket. Loam, rain, pine, nature. A huntress’ best friend. Hades, he smelled good. Too good. Alluring.

Nope. Don’t be fooled by him, Orion.

Myra blew on the steaming noodles she twirled over her fork, pulling me from my thoughts. “Sure, I can make you a reversal spell.” She shoved the heap into her mouth and chewed.

“I’d appreciate that.” I copied her, fascinated as noodles slid off the fork or clumped together. We didn’t have food like this in ancient Greece. Breads, grains, legumes, eggs, cheese, olives, and vegetables were our staples. The noodles were salty and tasted of herbs. Not as good as the Twix, but still tasty. “This is good.”

After lunch, Myra got busy with her ingredients, grinding herbs in a bowl, mixing in drops of liquids, pinches of salts, and other materials. I’d never learned sorcery or witchcraft, although, a witch had taught me basic medicines for my duty. Burn creams and salves to heal wounds. Plants and ingredients I knew where to find back home. Here, I had no clue. The landscape was completely different. Drier, sparser vegetation, trees and plants I didn’t identify, different animal life. Things that Myra might teach me.

“Do you know how to make burn creams and wound salves from the plants here?” I asked her as she worked.

“Wait a sec.” She abandoned her mortar and pestle, leaving the room, and returning carrying another long tube similar to the one she used to disinfect her scratch. “Try these.” She handed me a pale green tube. “This is Aloe Vera and it soothes burns, sunburns, bites, rashes, burn burns… you name it.” She passed me the second white tube. “And this is Neosporin. It’s an antibacterial ointment that will disinfect any wound.”

Medicine in this time came packaged with writing and not made fresh by a healer. This world was very different from the one I was used to. It seemed like it would constantly keep me on my toes learning and experimenting. “Thank you.”

Myra smiled at me and got back to work.

I twisted the tube back and forth, trying to figure out how to access the healing balm inside. Taps, shakes, and smacks failed to get the medicine out. Finally, I discovered the lid twisted off and the salve squeezed out. I pressed the cool Aloe Vera gel to my bite and sighed at the instant soothing of the burn and sting.

“Oh, this is good,” I told the witch. “Just as good as anything back home.”

“Where is home?” Myra’s firm hand made powder of the leaves she crushed.

Best was less in my line of work. Word got out to competitors trying to capture the monster bounty before I got it. And since I didn’t know friend from foe in this new world, it was safer to keep the details few.

“Greece,” I replied, keeping the rest tight to my chest. She didn’t need to know that I’d once walked with gods and monsters. Not when the gods didn’t dwell in this land, their presence faint and far away. In Greece, their power was raw and electric, even more so in their presence.

“That explains the accent,” Myra noted absently as she added an oil to her mixture and stirred it. “Okay this is ready.”

She brought the heavy bowl to me, brushed my dark hair aside, exposing the shifter’s bite, where she applied the spell. My skin burned hotter, deeper, and I hissed.

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