Page 23 of Agor the Merciless (Orc Mates #10)

Zoe gripped the edge of the workbench, her knuckles white from the effort to stay upright.

Her teeth chattered and sweat dripped down her temples.

Everything became blurry, and no matter how many times she blinked, the blurriness wouldn’t go away.

Finishing what she’d started was impossible.

She couldn’t even think about the work anymore.

The memory of the magic salve was a palpable thing.

She smelled it among the garage odors of oil and metal.

It was scary because it wasn’t there, but her mind created it anyway.

It was as if she could feel Agor’s hand on her back, though he was miles away. Her skin remembered his touch, the sting of the belt followed by heat, and then the cool relief of the ointment that lasted for a few seconds before it ignited her boy. Her arms prickled with goosebumps.

“Zoe,” a voice called from nearby. “Zoe.”

She looked up, her eyes unfocused. Grol stood a few feet away, not approaching.

“I’ll call for help,” he said. “You’ll be fine. Just wait.”

“I don’t need help,” Zoe said. “I need…” She stopped herself. She wouldn’t say it, wouldn’t give power to the need by naming it.

“You’re shaking,” Grol pointed out. “Your body fights the magic. It’s normal.”

“Normal.” Zoe laughed without humor. “Nothing about this is normal.”

Grol took a step back. “Tarn, keep watch. I’ll go get the females.”

Tarn nodded, then looked at Zoe, unsure of what he could do if things went south fast and there was no one else to help. He was a teenager, after all, and he knew nothing about what she was going through. He didn’t entirely understand how she’d gotten in this situation.

Zoe turned away from the young orc, hating that he saw her in such a vulnerable state.

Her head dropped as she tried to control the tremors running through her body.

Footsteps echoed across the dirt floor as orcs entered the garage.

Too many orcs, so Zoe didn’t look up. She gripped the workbench harder, wishing she could disappear.

What was happening to her was utterly embarrassing.

“Zoe,” said Hestra the Hunter. “We’ve come to help.”

“Go away,” Zoe muttered. “All of you. Just go.”

“We won’t leave you alone,” Zana the Tanner said.

“The captain put us in charge of your care,” Hestra said. “We take this duty seriously.”

“I don’t need care,” Zoe said, raising her head to look at them. “I need to be left alone.”

“You need food,” Pira said, approaching her carefully. She had a pot of something in her hands. “And drink. Your body needs strength to fight.”

“I’m not hungry,” Zoe turned away again. Her stomach growled loudly, betraying her.

Pira chuckled. “Your stomach disagrees with your mouth.”

“First, we need to make you comfortable,” Zana said. She grabbed a folded blanket from a nearby shelf. “This will keep you warm.”

Before Zoe could protest, Zana wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. The weight of it surprised her, giving her something real to focus on instead of what her mind kept creating – memories mixed with hallucinations.

“I don’t want this,” Zoe said, but her hands gripped the edges of the blanket, pulling it tighter.

She realized she was referring to her situation more than the blanket and the food being offered, and the help that she kept refusing with her stupid mouth but accepting with all her being. Her knees weak, she slid to the floor and curled within herself.

Hestra sat on the floor next to her and reached for her hand. “Give me your palm.”

“Why?” Zoe asked.

“In my family, we do this for sick children. Pressure points in your hand connect to the rest of your body. It helps with any pain.”

“I’m not a child,” Zoe said.

“No,” Hestra agreed. “You are the captain’s mate who’s fighting a curse stronger than most orcs could bear. Now give me your hand.”

Something in Hestra’s tone broke through Zoe’s resistance, and she extended her trembling hand.

Hestra took it between both of hers, her green skin in contrast with Zoe’s pale flesh.

Her thumbs pressed into Zoe’s palm, moving in circles.

The pressure hurt at first, then began to ease some of the tension radiating up her arm.

“This is stupid,” Zoe said, but didn’t pull her hand away.

“If stupid works, then we do stupid,” Hestra replied with a smile.

Pira busied herself with the pot, stirring its contents before pouring some into a cup.

“Drink this,” she said, holding the cup out to Zoe. “It’s a broth I made. It helps the body stay strong when the mind wants to quit.”

“What’s in it?” The smell was intense, possibly of herbs mixed with animal fat.

“Just drink,” Pira said, suspiciously not giving her a straight answer.

Zoe turned her head away. “I told you, I don’t want anything.”

Pira sighed and looked at Zana, who nodded. In a swift movement, Zana was behind Zoe, her strong hands holding her shoulders through the blanket. Hestra kept hold of her hand when Zoe yelped and tried to pull away, and Pira brought the cup to Zoe’s lips.

“Drink,” Pira said, her voice firm. “The captain said to keep you strong, so that’s what we’re doing.”

“You can’t force me to…” Pira tipped the cup as she spoke, sending a stream of liquid into her mouth. Zoe sputtered but swallowed, her face twisting from the taste. “That’s disgusting,” she gasped when she could speak again.

“Good medicine always tastes bad,” Pira said cheerfully, refilling the cup. “Finish it all. Doctor’s orders.”

“You’re not a doctor,” Zoe pointed out with a roll of her eyes. On second thought, the broth wasn’t too bad.

“Drink the rest, or we do this the hard way again.”

Jesus, these women weren’t joking! Zoe glared at her but took the cup with her free hand. She sipped the broth slowly, focusing on the warmth and taste of the brew. Hestra’s massage was pleasant enough, and Zoe’s mind calmed down a little.

“There,” Pira said when Zoe finished the cup. “Was that so hard?”

“Yes,” Zoe said with a playful smile. Then, she sighed. “Thank you. But you don’t have to stay. You have better things to do than babysit me. I’m feeling better, anyway.”

“We’ll stay,” said Zana simply.

Grol and Tarn were clanging about in the garage, keeping their distance.

At some point, Tarn pushed a stool toward Zoe and said something about the hard floor.

As if the stool wasn’t hard, but Zoe accepted it without comment.

An hour passed in relative silence, the orc females exchanging few words, and the father and son putting the tools away for the night.

Stars appeared in the sky, and Zoe closed her eyes as she swayed on the wooden stool, her back pressed against the workbench.

The blanket kept her warm, and the broth had filled her stomach and eased some of the pain and tension.

Hestra was still on the floor, working on her other hand.

“It’s late,” Zana said, looking at the sky stretching beyond the open garage door. “You need sleep.”

Zoe nodded but didn’t move. The thought of walking back to the cave, to the room she shared with Agor, made her stomach tighten.

“I can’t go back to the cave,” she said.

The three female orcs stopped what they were doing and looked at her.

“Why not?” Pira asked.

Zoe stared at the floor. “Our room... I can’t be there without him. The memories are too strong.”

Hestra released Zoe’s hand and stood up. “You can sleep in my quarters.”

“Or mine,” Zana offered.

Zoe shook her head and looked around the garage. Tools hung on the walls, parts waited on shelves, half-built engines sat on various benches – problems she could solve with her hands and mind. Here, nothing reminded her of the ointment and how it made her feel.

“My only safe place is here,” she said. “The garage is mine, and I’ll sleep here tonight.”

The three female orcs exchanged glances. They eventually nodded, but reluctantly. The garage was the least comfortable place in the settlement.

“We understand,” Zana said. “I will get furs.”

“I will bring more broth,” Pira added. “For the night.”

“And I will keep watch,” Hestra said.

“You don’t need to stay,” Zoe protested. “I can be alone.”

“No,” Hestra said firmly. “Not tonight.”

Zana left and returned minutes later with an armful of furs. She walked to the back corner of the garage where an orc car stood on blocks, its frame held up while the wheels lay on the ground nearby. The space under the chassis was sheltered.

“This spot,” Zana said, kneeling down. “It will make you feel protected.”

She arranged the furs on the ground, layering them into a nest. Zoe watched her, feeling once again like a child.

She should’ve gotten up and made the bed herself, but she had to admit she was feeling too weak and frail.

Despite constantly trying to send them away, she needed them and was grateful for their insistence in taking care of her.

They were right – she couldn’t be alone tonight, or she might go crazy again and go tearing through the mage’s workshop in search for the damned clay jar.

Grol and Tarn stood near the door, watching and waiting. Pira walked to them and touched them gently on their arms. They were family, Zoe remembered. Tarn looked just like his mother. Grol was reserved and grumpy, but Zoe could see the admiration he had for his wife in his dark, kind eyes.

“Go eat,” she told them. “Then sleep. We’ll stay with her tonight.”

“But the captain…” Grol started.

“The captain trusted her to us,” Pira reminded him. “We will guard her.”

Grol hesitated, then nodded. “Call if you need help.”

“We will,” Pira promised. “Now go. There is food at the main fire.”

The two male orcs left, Tarn looking back several times before Grol put a hand on his shoulder and guided him away.

Zoe watched them go, then turned to the nest Zana had made. She tried to stand, but her legs shook. Hestra stepped forward and helped her up, letting Zoe lean on her arm as they walked to the corner.

“Thank you,” Zoe said as she lowered herself onto the furs. The pelts cushioned her from the hard floor. She looked at the car frame above and noticed how the shelter it provided made her feel calm and like she might actually be able to get in a few hours of sleep.

“Sleep now,” Hestra said. “We will be here.”

Zoe lay down and pulled a fur over herself.

The tremors in her body continued, but the warmth helped.

She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the smell of oil and metal.

Sleep came, but rest brought no relief. Behind her closed eyes, images danced – Agor’s hands on her skin, the iron bolt above their bed, the clay jar.

The dreams mixed with memory until she couldn’t tell what was real.

She called out in her sleep, words that made no sense.

Her body twisted on the furs, fighting enemies no one else could see.

The three female orcs kept watch. They took turns sitting near her, changing places when one needed to stretch or drink water.

Hestra kept her hunting knife on her lap, alert for any sound from outside.

Zana fixed the furs when Zoe’s frantic movements pushed them away.

Pira gave her more broth whenever she woke up and was conscious enough to swallow. It was a long night.

The moon moved across the sky as Zoe’s struggle continued in the darkness.