Page 309 of Scorching the Alien Empire
“Murder-bots!” I shriek, throwing up one arm to shield Todd and the other to conjure divine barriers.
They snap into existence just as the drones slam against them, trapping the little buzzing turds.
“Hah!” I crow, triumphant as they flail against their cage like flies on force fields. “Even treehouses aren’t safe from their tyranny.”
Dracoth peers through my barriers like he’s studying an ant farm. “AHI drones. Harmless,” he growls, shooting me a look that screams‘You beautiful idiot.’
“AHI,” I scoff, flickering my hair like I’m on a catwalk. “Obviously stands forAsshole House Insurgents.”
We carry on. The ancient wood beneath us creaks like we’ve wandered onto the set ofPirates of Klendathor: Curse of the Bone-Through-the-Nose Baby Shower.
Dracoth’s long ear twitches. “There,” he grunts, jabbing a jumbo bratwurst-sized finger at a carved door at the end of the corridor. “Voices. The scent of fear.”
“Oh, goodie,” I sigh, shuffling toward it like a student called to the principal’s office after torching the art supplies.
The door groans like a dying banshee with a toothache—until Mr. Impatient throws it open with a single sweep of his mighty arm.
BANG!
“Ahh!” Rocks yelps.
A black-haired skinny human-bitch moves withwaytoo much cowboy flair. She draws a sleek, black-red pistol like she’s auditioning forGunsmoke in Space, leveling it at us with a twitch of precision.
My eyes flash silver-crimson. Arms raised. Barriers snap into reality. Chug Bug snoozes. Dracoth’s arm wraps protectively around me, the other blazing into a murder-shield of divine fire.
Babes is such a babe.
“Relax, my sexy little puffrio,” purrs a green-haired space-knight, golden eyes gleaming as he steps into view. “I said they’d be arriving soon.” He gently lowers Cowgirl Trigger-Happy’s arm.
Ugh.Hehas that look—the kind of wannabe playboy who thinks smarm is a virtue and modesty is a vitamin deficiency.
“My apologies,” says Trigger-happy, sheepish but still spinning her pistol like it’s a yo-yo and she’s headlining the Space Olympics. “I don’t like being taken by surprise.” Her emerald eyes flash, gun finally disappearing into her belt.
“Funny,” I purr, letting my hand drop and smile curl. “Ilovesurprises.” I look her up and down. “You must be... what was it again? Ah yes—the Green Goddess.”
I nearly choked when I first heard that title.Like a knockoff superhero on a cereal box. But the pang in my chest stabs like jealousy in ten-inch stilettos. She’s younger than me. Very pretty, in that heroin-chic kind of way. Dressed like it too. Andthe way the bone-through-the-noses talk about her—you’d think she was Jesus in drag.
“Oh, that,” she mumbles, fingers fiddling in her pocket. “Xandor started calling me that, and it just kinda stuck.” Her alabaster skin flushes, and her awkward humility takes the edge off the rib-stabbing stiletto.
“You’re far too modest, my love,” Xandor beams, draping his arm around her like a satin ribbon of cringe. “Tyrxie has spent tireless months healing war brothers from every clan and restoring the minds of our youth.” He turns, smirking at Dracoth. “And thanks toyourrescue of the Revered Mothers, they’re also on the mend.”
Stab.There goes the stiletto again. Right in the ribs.
“Yep,” Xandor adds, flaring his half-cloak over Tyrxie’s shoulder like he’s unveiling a prize on a game show. “She’s the reason our future shines brighter than a supernova.” His golden eyes flash before glazing as if he’s overdosing on pure crystal smug.
“My mother?” Dracoth breathes—a wind-tunnel on standby. His side of our bond exploding with eager anticipation.
“She’s well, Dracoth,” Rocks answers, propped up in a fur-mountain bed that looks like it could sprout branches. “You should go see her. She’s staying with Elder Harkus.” Then she grimaces, clutching her absurdly pregnant belly.
“Is it time, Pebbles?” Krogoth blurts, leaping from his ornate chair like an overprotective penguin in war paint.
“I’m fine, I’mfine,” she says, waving him off—though she looks like someone crammed two oversized alien babies inside her.
Oh yeah. They did.
“Our people owe you honor beyond imagining,” Dracoth growls, inclining his head toward Tyrxie with rare reverence. “Should you ever call upon me, I will rend your enemies tobloody strips.” He says it so sincerely you’d think he was offering to help do her taxes.
“Oh,” Tyrxie flinches, then musters a warm smile. “Thanks. But everyone’s been so kind.” She glances up at Xandor. “For the first time, no one wants to hurt me.” They both share a quiet chuckle.
