Page 50 of Alien's Luck
Not yet.
Not ever.
The cart sped around a corner. The incline increased, causing the engine to struggle. At no point did the speed slow. Tropical greenery rushed by in a blur. Occasionally, Carla thought she saw movement in the trees, vague people-shaped shadows, but the cart went by too fast for her to get a good look. Still, shesearched the trees for Poppy’s familiar red form, all the while bouncing in her seat and holding onto the cart for dear life.
The cart rounded another corner, and the road widened, revealing their destination. It was a proper villain’s lair, perched cliffside with a futurist design that was all curves and glass. There was even a waterfall. Was it futuristic if she was on an alien planet? Maybe that was a traditional design. Maybe it was a boring split-level ranch with vinyl siding? Well, the lair was futuristic by her standards.
Headed directly for the waterfall, the cart did not slow.
“Oh, this one of those cool tunnel entrances, right? The water’s going to part,” she said.
Kronkee said nothing, gripping the wheel tightly.
As they approached, it became clear that the waterfall went straight down the cliff. The road narrowed, clinging to the side of the cliff. Carla looked down, which was the worst idea ever, and had instant regrets. Far below, water churned in a violent tempest. If a wheel slipped or she lost her grip on this flimsy cart, she’d plummet to her death. And this guy? He looked like he’d be happy to push her over.
The water roared, drowning out all thought, leaving only the panicky thud of her heart. She gripped the canopy’s support, her palms slippery with sweat. They were getting closer to what appeared to be the end of the narrow road. It terminated at the waterfall.
No bridge. No entrance built into the cliff, hidden by rocks. Nothing. Just a sheer drop to the water below.
“There’s an entrance, right?” she asked again, shouting to be heard over the water and no longer trying to play it cool. She was all panic.
Kronkee said nothing, grimly facing forward.
He was going to kill her. She knew it in her bones. She somehow offended him in the five minutes since they met, and now he was going to murder her via waterfall.
This was wrong. She was supposed to be with Ari. They weren’t meant to be separated yet. She’d have to do this on her own, and as much as she postured and acted tough, she had never worked solo. She always had a partner.
There was only the deafening noise of the water, drowning out the rest of the world.
The cart slipped behind the waterfall.
There was darkness and silence, just the drip of water.
The cart jerked to a stop, throwing her forward. She held out a hand to stop herself from smashing into the dashboard. The noise of gears whirring to life echoed off stone. Lights flickered to life, casting a sulfurous glow. They were parked in a metal shaft that had all the charm of an industrial elevator.
The floor rose with a jerk, tossing Carla against the back of the seat. “A little warning,” she grumbled.
Kronkee said nothing, keeping his eyes forward, but she knew that fucker was having a good time. His twitching tail gave him away.
The grinding of gears increased, reaching an alarmingly loud level that sparked fears about cables snapping and bolts breaking. Finally, the elevator stopped, and a set of doors rolled open.
The cart rolled forward into what could generously be described as a parking garage carved out of stone. Half was natural stone, rough and unhewn, and the other was poured concrete, pillars, painted yellow lines, and smelled of exhaust fumes.
They stopped at a set of glass doors set into the rough stone. Inside was more stone, now with moss, and amber lights embedded along the floor. Despite the tropical heat outside,the inside was cool. Faint dampness clung to the air. Another elevator led them to a twisting journey through identical corridors no doubt meant to confuse visitors.
“Are we going in circles? I feel like I’ve seen that clump of moss before,” Carla said, reaching up to touch a long strand of feathery moss that hung from the ceiling.
“We must take this path because you lost your charveli blossom,” Kronkee said. Before she could snark back about victim -blaming, he opened a door. “This is your room. You will find it suitable.”
The space was simple in that it was a single room with a large bed. A flat white box sat in the middle. The walls were more carved stone and the floor was poured concrete. There was not a single piece of furniture beyond the bed. The interior designer definitely went hard for the supervillain aesthetic.
The far wall curved away, opening into a massive window that offered a stunning view of the island. The ocean sparkled in the distance. A planter filled with leafy green foliage ran underneath the window, framing the view.
Kronkee pressed a rock in the wall, and a hidden door opened, revealing a bathroom. He said, “The Master is indisposed but requests that you make yourself presentable for dinner. You will find all the necessary supplies inside.”
“My luggage?”
“Is being searched. An outfit is provided.” He waved a hand to the box sitting on the bed before leaving.
