Page 47

D eus doesn’t sleep. It means, even though I’m exhausted, my own sleep is fitful, regularly jerked awake by either his mutterings and occasional outbursts or the things outside the cave. In particular there is something which screams like a human, only it is not human.

I hate it.

I want to hate Deus, but I don’t.

I want to hate Darax, but I can’t. I can, however, hate myself for allowing him to somehow worm his way into my heart. For me to somehow have fallen for the big, bad, beastly Sarkarnii.

I’d give anything to see his face again.

It’s totally stupid. I don’t want to be the damsel in distress. I want to understand the dynamic between the two brothers, how it has come to this situation. Why would Deus harm another in order to hurt his brother?

Only he hasn’t hurt me, other than shaking me around a little. He could have killed me back in Vorostor Central, but he didn’t.

Darax decided not to tell me the whole truth, not to be clear about what happened to Deus, what happened to all the Sarkarnii, other than their females died.

Then I didn’t ask. I was too busy being outraged about what the Sarkarnii did to stay alive. That they were some simple ‘money with menaces’ organization who had this galaxy in their claws.

I couldn’t be more wrong.

Across from me, Deus twitches violently, coughing out a flame before his eyes open and he glares at me in a way he hasn’t before.

I push myself back against the rough rock, feeling the wet moss which grows there leeching into my clothing once again.

Could it be murder?

He heaves himself to his feet, his claws fully outstretched, the tips making a clinking sound on the rock. I do my best not to cringe as I expect him to stalk towards me. There’s nowhere to run. He knows it, I know it.

Whatever happens now, it is the end of everything.

I pull in a breath, about to speak, about to reason with him, to use the one thing I have as a weapon, my voice.

But, with a suppressed snarl, Deus’ head flicks towards the entrance of the cave.

Wings swirl from his back, and his tail lashes out, the spiked tip nearly hitting me, even though I’m way back.

When he growls, the acoustics of the cave mean the sound reverberates, getting louder and louder.

“You do not get to take her again,” he says, fangs hampering his words.

I stare out into the dim light. Now my eyes are used to the starlight, I can see the outlines of the vegetation outside, the lumps of rock in the floor of the cave, although not much else.

I can’t see anyone else. I unfold myself from the ledge and get to my feet, wrapping my arms around my body to stop the shivering. I keep as quiet as I can, taking a few paces forward, straining to see if there is anything out there other than the creatures who make all the noises.

Could it be Darax? Could it be a figment of Deus’ imagination? From what I’ve seen and heard so far, his mind is clouded with grief and more. There’s no saying what else it’s doing to him.

“Stay back,” Deus says with a snarl.

It’s then I see it. The thing which scuttles over the floor near the opening. It’s like a cockroach but far, far too big.

The movement captures Deus’s attention. He hiccups a flame.

It briefly illuminates the entire cave.

A cave which is now filled with cockroaches.

Unable to help myself, I release a short, sharp shriek, backing away to the rock wall behind me.

Deus is a mere still silhouette against the limited light before he lets rip with a huge flame, and it sears across the cave. Things pop and whine.

The flame goes out. I can’t see anything in the darkness which follows, the shape of the fire dancing over my eyeballs, effectively blinding me.

I am, therefore, not ready for the bright white light which floods the cave. Nor for the laser blast which hits Deus square in the chest. The first one doesn’t seem to do much, but the second knocks him off his feet. I’m so shocked, I don’t see the surge of creatures until it’s too late.

I’m pinned to the wall by a set of pincers. The stench from the things makes me gag. I get a brief glance at Deus, his chest smoking and not in the usual Sarkarnii fashion.

I think they might have killed him.

But that’s the least of my worries. I’m being held by an enormous cockroach, its mouthparts clacking over my face.

“This is another one .”

I hear the words, but I don’t hear them. It makes my brain hurt.

“It is the one which was left.”

I really, really don’t like it.

“Take it.”

I’m surrounded by the foul things now, attempting to hold my breath, not wanting to look at any of them, the primeval terror rising within me. There is a puff of white—not smoke, something else—and my eyelids droop without my permission.

I don’t want to look at the terrifying Veseli, but I don’t want to not be able to look at them. My body, however, is no longer complying with any of my demands. It goes limp.

The last thing that goes is my ability to hear them.

“What about the Sarkarnii?”

“Bring it. We need them both.”