Page 51

Alexandra

Tourist

D o I get a glorious destiny?

The heavy collar and chain chafing my neck suggest otherwise.

Dracoth barrels through the ship’s cramped corridors, nearly knocking me against the walls like a squishy battering ram.

Still, I share his enthusiasm. God knows how many days I’ve been trapped in the same boring, dark pit of a prison.

Now the promise of sunlight sends my heart soaring.

Dracoth manipulates his wrist device, and the ship’s rickety door squeals as it sputters open halfway before jamming.

I roll my eyes and blow out a frustrated breath.

The red titan kicks the metal, sending it crashing open.

The atmosphere hits my lungs like a hammer, making me stagger, blinded by a sudden burst of purple light.

The air smells amazing—crisp and fresh, with a faint earthy scent that reminds me of my escapes to the countryside back on Earth. It’s a far cry from the stale, recycled air of the ships, always tinged with the sour stench of sweat and machine oil.

Dracoth steps off the ship into an expansive black marble building, eerily similar to the interior of the old massive ship.

This must be some kind of space hangar, judging by the hodgepodge of other small ships scattered around.

Everything from sleek shuttles to large, rusted cargo haulers clutters the space.

Dracoth finally lowers me, my feet touching the ground, snapping me out of my open-mouthed gawking. “Behave,” he growls, his eyes narrowing as he peers down at me.

Behave?! The rude prick!

All I did was call him out on his blatant lies .

Still, despite the warm air and bright light, a shiver runs down my spine as my red radiator strides ahead, forcing Sandra and me to hurry to keep up.

The chains nearly pull taut, jingling heavily with each pounding footstep.

It’s infuriating having no control, no chance to slow down and take in this alien world.

Instead, I’m dragged along like a puppy—a super cute one.

Demon Egg-Head stretches his limbs and inhales loudly, sounding like he’s doing a line of drugs.

“Ah, it warms my old soul to breathe the air of the Gods again,” he declares, his voice reverent.

Then he pulls up the hood of his dark robe, shrouding his face in shadow as he steps out of the ship like a devil emerging from the depths of hell.

“The arrogant fools may still be searching for me, so you must do the talking, young Dracoth,” he titters, adding, “Try not to get us into any more trouble. Though I’m sure that won’t be an issue, given your... calm and gentle nature.”

“You must be on the most wanted list for being a creepy weirdo who scares children,” I mutter, unable to resist a jab at Demon Egg-Head for calling me the ‘ plump one .’

“I liked you better when you couldn’t speak,” Demon Egg-Head hisses.

His neck tilts with a sneer, like a black-red snake.

“But there are no children to scare or females to birth them on Klendathor. Such was the price of conquest and the profane... a path of blood, paid with blood.” His voice takes on a strange, almost chanting tone.

No females or children? What the hell?

Goosebumps prickle my skin, and I suddenly wish I had a coat to pull tighter around me. Is this going to be like walking into a nightclub as the only woman, ogled by a bunch of drunk, horny losers?

Ugh, except this time, they’re all giants. Fantastic.

“How come?” Sandra asks, echoing my thoughts as she glances at the backs of Demon Egg-Head and Dracoth.

“Silence,” Dracoth commands, being his usual bore self. “Warriors ahead,” he adds, nodding toward two Clown-dathians standing like metal statues, barring entry to the alluring sights of bustling activity beyond.

“Garrick, look at the size of this one!” one of the guards exclaims, nudging his companion, who’s fiddling with his wrist device. Both guards are easily over seven feet tall but much older than Dracoth, with withered, wrinkled faces and long gray hair—like aging heavy metal fans who never grew up.

“Huh?” Garrick mutters, his eyes widening at the sight of our strange party. Dracoth halts before them, towering over the pair as his belt and our chains rattle like a jailor’s keys. I tug at my heavy collar, trying to create space to catch my breath.

“Gods, what are they feeding you Magaxus warriors?” Garrick adds, his eyes crawling over Dracoth’s form.

“Blood and death,” Dracoth replies, sneering at Demon Egg-Head, whose yellowed fangs, and glowing green eyes flash—the only things visible beneath his obsidian hood.

“You Magaxus are... strange, to say the least,” the other guard mutters, grimacing. “I’ll stick with borack meat and ale, myself.” He pauses, looking at his blue holographic device. “We don’t have your ship on our list. What is the nature of your visit?”

“Visit?” Dracoth’s face twists into a sneer, his crimson eyes flaring. “Do I look like a weak outsider to you?”

My pulse quickens, fearing my red radiator is about to blow a gasket... once again. Maybe a confrontation could give me a chance to escape or—dare I hope—be rescued? I study the guards, trying to gauge if they can be trusted.

“Ah... well, no.” The guard shrinks back under Dracoth’s fierce glare—apparently too much for anybody to handle. “We have to ask, that’s all.” He throws a nervous glance at his companion. “But it’s clear you’re a returning Magaxus warrior.”

Dracoth moves forward, our chains clinking—a hateful cue to follow.

“Wait!” Garrick calls out, his voice sharp.

“High Chieftain Krogoth has outlawed slavery.” His eyes flick between Sandra and me.

“Are these females... humans?” He shakes his head and turns to his companion.

“Gods, what a mess. We’re supposed to bring any humans to High Chieftainess Rocks, but they’ve just left. ”

This might be my chance!

My heart pounds as I stare at the guards, my breathing erratic. Dracoth and Demon Egg-Head have broken some kind of Clown-dathian law. If I speak up now, maybe these guards can get me out of this mess. But... what if it’s better to stick with the devil I know?

“We’re not slaves,” Sandra chimes in, breaking the tension and making my decision for me.

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Does she have the worst case of Stockholm syndrome ever?

“These are for our protection,” she adds, clutching a handful of our thick metal chains.

The guard frowns, glaring at the chains. “What about you?” he asks, gesturing in my direction. “Are you with them for...” His eyes flick nervously to Dracoth, who looms over us like a simmering volcano. “Protection?”

My gaze darts between the guards and Dracoth, my heart thumping in my chest. Crap, what do I do? If I stay silent, Dracoth might drag us further into God knows what. If I speak up, these guys might just throw me into another cage. “I... I...”

“You heard the females.” Dracoth inches closer to the guards, his enormous hands flexing—a subtle but unmistakable threat. “Step aside.”

His voice is low, dangerous, like distant thunder. He doesn’t bother to add more. His presence is enough.

The guards lock eyes with him for a brief second before quickly stepping back to escape his intimidating shadow. “Yes... well, proceed, Magaxus warrior,” Garrick stammers, gesturing toward the exit with a trembling arm.

Our chains clink and jangle again, a grating continuing signal of my humiliating enslavement as Dracoth strides forward like an unstoppable mountainous tyrant. He even bullies the guards—or police, or whoever the hell these guys are!

I’m glad I kept my mouth shut. They would have handed me back the moment Dracoth snapped his fingers.

“You hesitated,” Dracoth growls, turning his head just enough to glare at me. My stomach sinks into my shoes.

The giant perv misses nothing!

“What do you expect? I was scared!” I snap back, struggling to keep up with his long strides.

“Yet fear has never held your tongue before,” Dracoth scoffs, his gaze fixed on the exit. “Do not betray me again, female.”

I clench my jaw, swallowing the words I desperately want to say.

Betray what? This great partnership we have? All this trust we’ve built? But I keep quiet, my attention shifting to the sights coming into view.

We step through the black marble hangar, and I’m immediately hit by the chaos of Star City.

The sheer number of strange aliens bustling back and forth is overwhelming; the buzz of countless voices rises like a swarm.

Above, a blazing purple sun dominates the skyline like a comet poised to strike.

It’s all too much. After so long in the dark and away from crowds, my legs feel weak beneath me.

“Lexie!” Sandra calls out as my vision blurs, and the chain pulls taut before clanging noisily to the ground.

A strong hand catches me as I stumble, the familiar warmth bringing a faint smile to my face.

“Dracoth... Is that you?” I ask, my blurry vision and hazy mind making everything feel like the end of a particularly intense bender.

“Drink this,” Dracoth demands, pressing something to my lips. My tentative sips quickly turn into greedy gulps. The delicious liquid is thick, sweet, and creamy, reminding me of partially melted ice cream.

He’s been holding out on us!

“Gods, look at her go!” Demon Egg-Head mocks, but I don’t care. This drink is yummy . Already, I feel better—the cool liquid soothes my throat, fills my growling stomach, and refreshes me.

“Silence, you old gas cloud,” Dracoth snaps before taking the container away.

No, come back!

“I’ll carry you,” he offers, helping me to my feet. My legs feel steadier now.

“No... no.” I wave a hand to fend him off, though a secret part of me likes him carrying me. “I’ll be fine. Just got a little dizzy.” I wipe the sweat from my brow and take a deep breath as my vision clears.