Page 7 of Alien Devil's Wrath
“You could try.” I didn’t step back. Didn’t flinch. “But then you wouldn’t know the correct dosage. Or the administration method. Or the fact that it needs a catalyst to work, and only I know what that is.”
We stood there, predator and prey, except I wasn’t sure which was which anymore.
Finally, his hand dropped from the knife.
“What do you want?”
I pretended to think about it, tapping one finger against my lips.
“I want to watch,” I said finally. “When you reach your objective, whatever it is, I want to see what was worth dying for. And after...” I traced a finger along his arm, feeling the muscle twitch under my touch. “After, you don’t just drop me at the nearest port. You take me exactly where I want to go.”
“Where?”
“To finish what I started with a certain Lyrikan noble.” My smile turned sharp. “You’re going to help me kill him properly this time.”
He was quiet for a long moment, that predator gaze evaluating options. The tremor had spread up both arms now. We both knew he was running out of time.
“Deal.”
I bit back a laugh. No reason to spook him too soon. “Oh good. This partnership just keeps getting better.”
Behind me, his footsteps grew more uneven with each passing minute.
This was turning out even better than I’d hoped.
ZAREK
The dust storm hit without warning. A wall of grit and sand scoured exposed skin raw as we scrambled for shelter. The shallow cave Bronwen found barely fit us both. We pressed close together to avoid the worst of the wind ripping past the entrance.
I gripped the stone wall, knuckles white, waiting for the fresh wave of fire in my shoulder to subside as the fragments inside shifted, scraping raw tissue. The ones in my thigh sent fire up my leg. My healing factor was working, but slowly. The wounds kept trying to close around the foreign objects, creating inflammation instead of proper repair.
“Your pupils are dilated,” she said, her gaze mapping my features, analytical and curious in the dim light. “And there’s a tremor in your left hand you’re trying to hide.”
“I’m fine.” The words were grit, forced through my teeth.
She shifted on her toes, those dark eyes sharp with interest. “Stalker venom is cumulative. Right now you feel functional, but the alkaloids are building in your system. In a few hours, your nervous system will start shutting down.”
I assessed my condition. The pain was manageable. My strength remained mostly steady. My vision was clear.
“I feel fine.”
“Of course you do. That’s what makes it so interesting.” She was already moving, reaching for something in her pack. “The toxin doesn’t cause immediate symptoms. It accumulates until it reaches critical mass, then triggers cascading organ failure.”
Her voice carried genuine excitement, like she was discussing a fascinating puzzle. She spoke about my potential death like it was the most engaging problem she’d encountered all week.
“Why do you care?” I growled.
Her smile was cheerful and utterly without warmth. “Dead Vinduthi warriors are much less useful than living ones.”
She knelt before me, close enough that her knees brushed mine, close enough that her warmth soaked through my clothes.
“I’ve been dying to test this mixture on someone with your kind of healing,” she said, producing a small mortar and pestle carved from bone.
She ground fungus spores into paste, humming under her breath. The mixture glowed faintly blue-green. When she added a few drops of clear sap, it began to emit a cool, medicinal scent.
“Such a lovely color,” she murmured. “Like bioluminescent algae, but actually useful.”
She reached for my shoulder, and I caught her wrist.
