Page 49 of Exiles on Earth
Ter-ry turns looks around the kitchen as if it’s his to survey. “Well, this is exactly the same as it was when I—” He startles when he sees me at the table, as well he might.
I stir my tea, locking gazes with this interloper. His disparaging gaze looks me up and down, and I have to tamp down my natural urge to flash red and yellow with warning.
Frowning, he spins to face El-len. “Are you having some work done on the barn?”
“Yes. Isn’t it fantastic?” El-len’s voice is brittle, but she takes his arm. “Let’s go see it now.”
That casual touch on another male rips trenches between my hearts, and my mind races. They’re similar sized, no doubt more physically compatible than a human and a Gerverstock, but the way El-len’s lips twist makes me suspect she’d rather do anything else than touch this man.
Ter-ry looks over his shoulder at me, still frowning. “Who’s that?”
El-len hustles him out. “He’s just one of the workmen.”
Just one of the workmen. I know it’s a subterfuge, I hope it is at least, but I didn’t expect how much it hurts. Just a clone.
El-len takes this human outside, and I follow, watching him for any untoward moves. If he so much as lays a fingeron her, I will snap it off. El-len shoots me a mixed look, grateful but also worried. Perhaps she can see the anger in my face? I school it to stillness as I pace behind them, putting my frustration into my fists and balling them so hard my knuckles creak.
Outside, rain patters among the small spikes of my growing hair, making my scalp itch like the urge for violence. El-len leads him into the barn under the partially completed roof, beams ready to receive slate as soon as Gara can print them, and I plant myself at the open doorway, preparing to leap in if El-len needs me.
The man looks up at the walls, shaking his head with a tutting sound. “Oh. This is… This is no good.”
My eyes narrow. What does this man want?
El-len’s gaze flickers to me before she asks him, “What do you mean?”
The male slaps his hand on the wall as if testing its strength. “It’s not authentic. I don’t know what you’ve used here, but the council won’t like this at all. I saw you got planning permission, yes, which is contingent on you using the older style materials and methods. Not…” He peers between the blockwork, picking at it and examining the result under his fingernails. “Whatever this is.”
The fabricator had analyzed the original mixture and replicated it exactly. Humans call it lime mortar, and I want to tell El-len he’s lying, but she told me to stay quiet.
The man turns to face me, a sneer on his face. “You are taking advantage of this poor woman with your shoddy workmanship.”
My scales nearly flare red, Gerverstock rage flooding me. I hold onto the colors of El-len’s clothes only through supreme will, but they darken.
“Poor woman?” El-len gives him a scathing glare that quickly melts when he looks at her. Does he hold power over her somehow? “Terry, what is this really about?”
The human puts his hands on his hips. “I called you. Several times. I came to take you out for that drink I promised you.”
“What drink, when?” El-len pats her pockets, pulling out her device, then grimaces when she looks at it.
“You didn’t answer any of my calls, so I thought I’d stop by.”
“Right. Yeah. Well, we had a bit of an accident at the farm. Kinda distracted me.” She tugs at her rope of hair.
“It’s a good thing I did call in, to protect you from cowboy builders. You need experience on a project like this. You want a developer on your side. So, how about that… drink?”
The way he extends the invitation makes me think he’s after something else, not just hydration. El-len’s cheeks flush, a shade between anger and deep shame, and folds her arms across her chest with a defiant thump.
Ter-ry beckons to her with a curt jerk of his chin, as if bringing her to heel. “Let’s go, we’ll talk more on the way. I’ve booked a restaurant.”
“Without asking me if I had plans?”
“Uh… no?” Ter-ry’s eyes once again slide to me as the clear threat in the room. “Unless you have plans with him?”
El-len makes a half-choked sound. “Terry, no means no. It doesn’t mean anything else.”
His nostrils flare, and he swings to face her, back to me. “Oh, I see what’s going on. Some in-kind swap of labor, isn’t it?”
El-len’s jaw falls, her disgust sharp and clear, but it’s the flicker of doubt in her eyes that causes my chest to ache. The venom in his tone sends my scales rippling red, pain flashing across my limbs as the surge of strength tears at my repairing muscles. Despite that, I’ll push through for El-len; this male is one step closer to having his head shoved through the authentic lime mortar wall.
