Page 19 of Border Control
Very, very interesting indeed.
With nothing to do with all this late-night energy—scratch that, a quick glance at the clock shows me 2:13am, so early morning energy—I start cleaning the kitchen, ready to move myself in. One thing I need is good, strong coffee in the morning,and I have the right tools for the job. Ellen tends to mainline instant coffee granules, ew.
I put up my umbrella to set off to retrieve my espresso machine and bean grinder out of my crimson BMW. As I crunch across the gravel, I spot the others settling back into the lean-to. Dom lifts his head and meets my eyes, and when I crook my finger at him he leaps to his feet.
“Thanks for helping,” I tell him, loading his strong arms up with the electricals.
“Of course, female.” He cradles my coffee making equipment like it’s a baby which, to be honest, is not that far off. “I asked our pilot, Arture, what he was doing, as you ordered. He responded this was a newer model than he’s used to.”
“Okay.” I mean, I don’t know what to say to that, it sounds reasonable.
Beaming happiness spreads across his stern, severe face, making my breath catch. He’s absolutely eager to please.
But then his brow furrows, and I cock my head. “What’s wrong?”
“Only that he’s a Pranastock, he should be able to pilot anything.” He flexes his right hand, as if balling his fingers into tight fists is a relaxing thing for him. When I was younger, I liked pressing my fingernails into the meat of my thumb, making little half-moons that would pulse with sharp pain for a second before dissolving immediately.
Ah. He’s looking for a technique to relax, now that I’ve taken pain away from him.
I lead the way back to the house, and he catches up immediately. I ask, “Why does being a Pranastock mean he should fly everything?”
He shoots me a puzzled look. “A Pranastock is raised flying all kinds of machines, and they have genetic capability in beingcalm under intense pressure. They are precise and quick to make decisions.”
“Aha, so it’s his job?”
“His… purpose. Why he was created.”
“Interesting.” Ellen mentioned the test tube thing, and it seems she really did mean it. “So, are you a Pranastock too?”
“Female, I am a Parthiastock.”
“And what do they do?”
His glittering purple eyes never waver as he declares, “We proudly serve females with devotion as we uphold and enforce their laws.”
Huh. I open the door and hold it for him, but he just stares at me. “Well, come on in. Don’t let my coffee maker get wet, I need that to live.”
He shoots forward, ducking into the stoop where Ellen stores her coats and boots. “Then it is a priority.”
The big purple guy stands on the doormat dripping for a while, and I have to squeeze next to him so I can put the umbrella down outside. He’s so wide he fills Ellen’s porch, shoulders brushing the oilskins stacked on the wall.
Being snug in this space with him, I smell ozone, fresh and clean, like ocean air. It’s heady, and… comfortable.
He peers inside the kitchen, looking down at my feet as if waiting for permission. He’s used to eating breakfast here, but to be fair, he’s on his own now, so it might feel intimidating to be separated from his clan.
“Come on in.” I wave him forward.
He surges in, arms cradling the machine as if it’s precious cargo. “Where do you wish me to set this device down?”
Right, I need to clear a space. As I sweep El-len’s mismatched crockery into my arms, I think of something to ask. I don’t want to cross-examining him, but I do want to know what makes this guy tick.
I settle for, “What does training for upholding your laws involve?”
He considers that for a moment, rocking back on his heels. “It’s a mixture of practical exercises and internal need. We want to serve females, we live for it. That’s not taught, it’s innate.”
“Ah.” Taking the espresso machine from him, I accidentally brush his chest scales. Like his chin, they’re surprisingly soft and warm.
The ones I tap change from purple to a deep, rich indigo in a ripple across his torso. It’s fascinating. “Oh, wow. Sorry, I didn’t mean to touch you.”
