5. After The Storm

By the time the storm spits me out, I am so many light years from where I started I may as well never have been there at all. I'm in a new region of uncharted space, using the sensors to try to locate some kind of outpost. I need to find some kind of social situation to restock food and just to see some aliens who aren't actively trying to fuck or kill me.

I've had several days to search the shuttle from top to bottom. I find a human suit, which is the kind of suit the scythkin really seem to prefer. One of these days, I'll learn what their fascination with humans is.

I decide to put the suit on. It's a male suit, and I keep my foil on underneath it, which means I am basically wearing a sweaty insulated second skin. I look like an accountant, a lot like Atlas. Giggling to myself at the idea of running into him in this state, I can only imagine what he'd think. Would he find it funny? Did he have a discernible sense of humor?

SENTIENT LOCATION DISCOVERED

The ship's computer gives me an update.

"Set coordinates!" I shout out. I don't really care what the location is. I just have to get off this cramped shuttle. I need to stretch my legs, eat some local food, and generally experience life in the way it is meant to be experienced.

We are in orbit over a cracked gray and red planet. It looks like it has plenty of volcanic activity. Probably has plenty of stone skin inhabitants, life forms capable of resisting great amounts of heat. Good. That's what I need now, some very resilient companionship.

I take the human suit off. It doesn't really fit, and the last thing I need to do is make an appearance on a new planet as a droopy-eyed human monster. I want to look cute, or as close to cute as I can look these days.

I am really running out of decent clothing options. Tinfoil and frills are a weird combination. Once I get down to this sentient planet, I'll see about getting myself something to wear. Something nice. Something that hugs my figure and accentuates my assets.

The ship handles the descent and landing, which is good because I am not trained in that sort of thing. I can man a weapons bank from time to time, and I can steer if there's the vastness of space around me, but doing something like landing somewhere with precision? That's not a skill I have spent much time developing.

There's a heaviness as the ship lands, and a satisfying CLUNK as it settles into place. There's not much to see from inside the ship. So much red dust has blown up over the sensors the place looks like a big desert haze. I have to hope it has a little more to it than that.

I prepare to disembark, feeling a certain sense of excitement even though nothing has worked out well for me in a long time. I guess I'm due a win. That has to be how the universe works. You throw one betrayer-lover out an airlock, and it opens a window, or something like that.

"Oh fuck me…" I groan to myself.

There's a lot of death here. I smell it the second I step off the ship.

I have landed in a field of carcasses and rubble. I get the impression that there was a city here, once. Something beautiful I would imagine, judging by the ornate scraps left amid the destruction. This is not the scene of a war. This is the scene of a complete erasure of a civilization, the attempt to entirely eradicate a form of life.

This is the act of something dark, demonic, and hungry with an appetite that will never be sated. I feel slow horror creeping over me. It is the kind of fear that makes action seem almost impossible. All I have to do is back my way up the steps again and set sail for literally anywhere else. But it feels as though I am moving through quicksand. My muscles are heavy. My thoughts are also slowed.

"Pretty little human thing."

I have been seen. More than seen. I have been observed.

I turn my head far more slowly than I would like. I need to whip around to face and eliminate the threat, but that will not happen.

I feel a cold, large hand on the back of my neck. I feel myself being turned to face an alien who makes the very marrow in my bones freeze. The porcelain gray skin is beautiful and pore-less. The red eyes hunger so ravenously I feel my own stomach growl as my body does its very best to identify in all ways with this most terrible of aggressors. He is tall, and his hair is long and glossy black with a silver stripe running back from the left side of his temple. He has a certain air of authority about him, though not the same brutal dominance as Emrys. This is a predator who knows where the paperwork is.

"I would not have thought a tasty little morsel like you would land amid our feeding frenzy." The vampire smiles at me, revealing a maw still unpleasantly replete with blood. "Have you no self-preservation?"

I have to wonder the same thing. I was so convinced that this time I'd be safe. Why do I keep thinking that? There's absolutely no evidence for that being true. I have no safety at all, no matter where I go. I travel from one mess to another, weaving an interstellar web of fuckery from which I am now starting to fear there is no return.

This thing is a stranger to me, but I am not a stranger to it. It knows me for what I am: prey.

"What have you there, Aristo?"

One of its companions shouts out, and I find myself hoisted aloft by the back of my neck in a way that should kill me and yet does not.

"A human female!"

That cry draws dozens of them from their feeding places. They crawl out from underneath slabs of rock, moving with an elegance that belies their ghoulish actions. They are all beautiful and they are all grotesque. They are all high cheek bones and blazing eyes. They are hunger and they are fangs made to sate that hunger.

I make a yowling, choking sound, loud enough to encourage the one who has me to put me down. Thoughts are starting to fight their way through my brain. They are looking at me now, but they will not look for long. They will strip me and they will take me apart and they will drink from my very arteries. I will be gone too soon, none of them getting more than a fleeting taste of me.

My frightened eyes roam predatory faces. I know them well, because they share great kinship with the terrible Emrys. I feel as though I can see his lineage in them, though perhaps I am drawing too great a comparison.

There is a sadness inside me of a kind I have not felt before. I am witnessing the end of something beautiful. I am present at the end of a native town, and I am here at my very own end as well. The hand on the back of my neck keeps flexing against my nape, sharp, clawed nails digging into my skin.

I should have felt this vulnerable with Atlas, but in his monstrous grip I was protected. There is no protection in this grasp. I am nothing but a snack here. I am a creature to be consumed.

I have walked straight into the middle of a valker alien vampire nest, and I am going to pay the price. With every passing moment, I see another of them sneaking toward me. Their numbers are greater than I imagined at first. I thought there were a handful, then perhaps a dozen. Now I imagine there may very well be a hundred or more. Each and every one of them is looking at me with voracious eyes.

I feel the alien gripping me flex his fingers again, feeling my vertebrae. I know exactly what he is doing. He is trying to find the right spot to snap and crack me, breaking my neck so I cannot fight back once they start to tear me to pieces. He will immobilize me and then I will be consumed.

Unless…

"I am owned," I say, knowing that is the only way to stop a feeding frenzy.

"Owned?" The vampire alien laughs. "I do not care for your human rituals."

"I am owned by one of your kind."

It is hard to speak audibly while in this much fear, but I force the words out between my chattering teeth. The others are drawing closer, closer. I know that at any moment they will fall upon me and the chance to save myself will be eternally gone.

"Who owns you?"

"Emrys of Clan Coldblood."

They hiss and draw back, as if his name alone is forceful enough to make them retreat. That gives me a good amount of reassurance. I can see carcasses all around me from less fortunate creatures who did not have a vampire protector to call on.

"How does meat like you know a name like that?"

"Because I am owned by him. Marked by him. He will be coming for me, and if he finds me touched in any way, his fury will be terrible. I am to be his mate bound."

The grip on my neck loosens slightly, but not entirely.

"You are lying."

"Why would I lie? Why would I land here, in the midst of your frenzy? I would have to be a complete fool to come here without scanning the landing area. There's blood and flesh everywhere. How would I possibly miss that? The very air stinks of death. You have turned the volcanic breezes of this world into gusts of gut and bile. Believe me when I say I am here because Emrys wants me here. There is no other reason in the universe that would compel me to come."

My favorite thing about lying is how it takes on a life of its own once you really settle into it. At the beginning of that little speech I had no idea what I was going to say, and now I believe every single word that came out of my mouth.

"Emrys will be here soon, so we will determine the truth of your claim then."

"Yes," I say. "He will. Wait. He will?"

"What do you think this blood sacrifice is in aid of? This is part of the celebration of his homecoming. We are the warriors of Clan Coldblood. You know very little for a mate who was sent here."

"The alternative would be that I was running away from him and somehow managed to fly at random through a magnetic storm only to be spat out right above the very planet where his homecoming was being prepared by his most ferocious and voracious warriors and be immediately taken prisoner by them," I say. "What's the likelihood of that?"

"Almost impossible," he says.

"So wildly improbable it would be tantamount to a fuck you from the universe itself," I say. "It would be like being kicked directly in the ovaries by the force that animates all life. It would be like any and all gods ever dreamed of coming down and using all their many arms and hands to flip the bird."

Some people would say that fate decreed I be here. But I know better. I know this is part of the terrible fucking luck and even worse planning I've demonstrated over the course of my life.

"I'm here to tell you that Emrys wants a bower made of piles of bones," I say. "Looks like you have more than enough for that. Also, a river of blood, if you've managed not to drink all of it."

I am now an event planner. Hell, it makes sense. Why would Emrys send me here if not to communicate his aesthetic desires?

The vamp holding me lets me go and pats me down, smoothing my clothing. There is a light crinkling sound as the foil crinkles. It causes the creature to raise a brow and notice for the first time that I look completely insane in terms of sartorial choices. I'm still wearing my nightdress and my protective coating.

"You are dressed very oddly."

"It's a beauty treatment. I want to be all nice and sweated out for Emrys when he arrives."

"I see," he says, dubious. The story I am spinning is pretty threadbare. If you weren't listening to me, and you just looked at me, you'd see a woman in an overly ornate nightie, who landed in the middle of a massacre telling the murderers she knows their boss. Fortunately for me, I do know their boss.

This is a mess, but like all messes I end up in, I think I can probably muddle my way through it.

"I assume you have a tailor here," I say. "I will need a new gown, complete with tailored pants. I will need boots. Emrys assured me I would not have to leave the planet in order to obtain attire for homecoming. If I have to return to the nearest seamstress, I risk being late for homecoming, and I cannot be late for homecoming."

"Of course. What is your name? I am Aristo Delaroy." He says the name almost as though I should recognize it. Maybe Aristo is someone Emrys would mention in conversation, but I doubt it. Emrys has never struck me as someone who would mention any of his loyal followers to me in conversation.

"You can call me Maria."

"Maria," he says. "What a lovely name."

It is a lovely name. Not mine, but that's fine.

"How long will it take you to clothe me appropriately?"

"A matter of hours at most. We have fed, and our tailors will make it an upmost priority."

Emrys is coming, but he is not here yet. I might be able to get some very cool vamp style clothes and be gone before he sets foot on the planet. I love the idea of the creature who loathes me having to pay for my new threads. It would really make him quite furious.

"How many days do we have on this planet before the homecoming begins?"

"Three days remain," Aristo says. "Would you like to stay in your scythkin vessel while we prepare your quarters? We are yet to construct the homecoming hall, though we do have a dwelling suitable for the king if he were to arrive ahead of schedule."

"This is all very last minute," I say. I know I am supposed to care about all this, so I may as well pretend to.

"Finding a planet suitable for the feeding frenzy proved more difficult than usual. We wanted raw blood from creatures who were sentient, but not yet civilized."

"You wanted them to be able to understand the horror of being fed upon, but not be able to resist you in any way."

"That's a cynical take," he says. "But not entirely inaccurate. Smart blood is good blood. Civilized blood is almost always tainted with compounds associated with technology. This world has provided us with the best feed we've had in many dozens of years. Emrys will be pleased."

"I hope so," I say. "My mate's satisfaction is of the utmost importance."

"Indeed." Aristo smirks. He thinks I am an uppity little human animal. Fortunately, I am loaded with all sorts of civilized compounds that I now know he has no interest in ingesting. He's not hungry right now. None of them are. That's probably what saved me initially, the only reason I wasn't torn to pieces before I could speak.

"Our king's mate requires clothing! See to it!" Aristo makes the announcement to the assembled valkers, then turns back to me and offers me an elegant cold hand. "Come," he says. "I will ensure you are comfortable."

"Thank you. Very kind. Emrys has asked me to report my experiences to him, so I will be glad to have good ones to report."

Aristo's gray pallor goes just that little bit more pale as the implications of that sentence sink in. First he thought I was food. Then he thought me a silly distraction. Now he is considering the fact that I appear to have the ear of his king. I am playing a dangerous game here in the very heart of Emrys' territory, though to be fair, this is probably the last place he would ever think to look for me. I am possibly as safe as I could be.

"I will endeavor to ensure you are well taken care of. We did receive word that the king's mate this year was a human."

I want to clarify the this year part of that sentence, but I don't want to ask any questions that would cause a level of suspicion that might undermine my otherwise accepted cover.

I follow Aristo, knowing full well that this is what ancient humans would have called a ballsy move. I'm rather enjoying it. It's just so very wrong, which of course makes it incredibly right.

It is a little off-putting walking through the blood and muck, but of course that is not the entirety of the planet. There will be places that do not fester with the entrails of innocents, I am sure. I try to lift my gaze above the slaughter. I notice that there are multiple volcanoes rising in the distance, ominous gray-black columns with red and orange lava running down the sides in a slow trickling eruption. The whole planet has a smell of copper and brimstone. The core of this world is trying to escape through the surface. This is a place of intense revelation and brutal elemental forces.

I am starting to sweat beneath my ragged foil attire. The atmosphere is akin to standing at the vent of a very large clothes dryer that has long ago finished drying and yet has not switched itself off, probably because of a dodgy sensor. If that seems to be too specific a simile, suffice to say, it's hot and it is dry.

Aristo leads me to the encampment proper, which is much tidier and largely free of the signs of indiscriminate slaughter. The valkers leave their atrocities outside the perimeter of their living quarters. Valker construction tech is impressive. I suppose when you are somewhat nomadic due to your predatory nature you need to be able to set up places to live that are secure and maintain your aesthetic.

They have already constructed many dwellings, clearly made from materials mined from the planet and fabricated into ornate and intricate stonework by little machines that are effectively 3D printers but for building stuff.

In addition to houses, they have made several small temples, and I can see that they are hard at work on a big one which will presumably be where the homecoming will occur. There is not a surface of the stone that does not bear some kind of carving, either a hieroglyphic style series of events, or retellings of valker myths in their ancient written script, which I am only partially familiar with. They favor height and majesty, a great deal of pillars and sweeping stonework.

Valkers are all about style. Well, style and cruelty. It's strange how often those two traits occur together. I'm here for the style part of things. I know that I am going to feel better once I am dressed well. Since this mad adventure began, I have been clad in increasingly odd and battered attire. It is starting to take a toll on my mental health, not to mention making me look bonkers to those I meet along the way.

"Would you like a bath?" Aristo makes the offer with a genteel hint at the state of me.

"I would. Thank you. I would also like something to eat."

"Of course. Anything you wish is our command."

"Anything?"

"Anything," Aristo confirms.

I always had a bad feeling around Emrys, as if there was some terrible fate I could not possibly escape while in his presence. Something about him was almost wired into my mental state from the outset. My mind knew him and did not like or trust him. I don't have the same feeling around Aristo and the rest of the vamps. It's not that they're not also terribly beautiful and wildly dangerous. It's that they've become very obsequious, and that goes a long way toward settling my nerves.

"We have been preparing this place for Emrys," Aristo says, leading me into the biggest and most ornate dwelling. There is a slightly anxious note to his tone, as if he is hoping for both my approval and Emrys'.

This building has been oriented so that it has a view of a lovely vista of volcanoes and rocks and things. They've furnished it with items I suspect must have been carted across space for this very purpose. A red and black carpet covers much of the flagstone style floor. There are multiple chaise-style benches and couches, beds, chairs, and tapestries hung on the walls. It is cozy, for a murderous little den.

There is a bedroom, of course, with a large bed covered in red silken sheets and very little else. It is warm on the planet, so we won't need much in the way of blankets, I suppose. I am very grateful to have a comfortable place to stay, and to be fed. I know I can't risk staying too long, but after the sparse furnishings of the scythkin shuttle, I'm in a mood to be pampered a little.

I am glad that Emrys already communicated the existence of a human mate, for my needs are easily met and even exceeded. Before I know it, I have floated about for a bit in a volcanic stone tub fed by hot springs channeled from the natural terrain, washed myself very thoroughly, and emerged from the bath to be wrapped in the embrace of a very fluffy towel.

"This is the life," I mutter to myself as I pad through what is intended to be Emrys' house. He has never set foot here, of course. If he had I would be like a mouse sensing the presence of a cat. For now, though, the place is very pleasantly Emrys free.

"What would you like to eat?" Aristo is hovering in the vestibule. He seems anxious to serve me.

"Something tasty and sweet. Nothing with meat," I clarify. I hate the idea of accidentally consuming any of the unfortunate creatures cruelly slaughtered by these monsters.

"Very good." He offers me a little bow. "I will be back in a moment. Please make yourself comfortable."

I do make myself comfortable.

I make myself very comfortable.

A few hours later, I am lying on a very soft couch, popping chocolate bonbons into my mouth. I never used to know what a bonbon was, but now I know it is a chocolate sphere filled with any number of delicious sweet substances. There is a tray of at least a hundred in front of me, and I have picked my way through them.

"My queen, would you like your snacks refreshed? Can we bring you any entertainment? Or would you like to sleep? I can order the builders to cease construction so you can nap in peace?"

Aristo is back, hovering and brimming with eagerness to serve me. When they are not surging with predatory intent, they can be quite charming. I find myself actually relaxed in his presence. He is so very keen to make me happy, which is not something I'm used to.

I could get used to this — but of course I can't afford to get used to it. It's one thing to have Goldilocks-ed Emrys' encampment, but it would be something else entirely to be caught in the bed. I want him to get to the ‘who has been sitting in my chair, who has been eating my porridge' part and no further.

"I think I'd like something to wear," I say.

"Of course. We already have all our tailors working on potential outfits. You will have your choice of several, and if you do not care for them, you will have your pick of as many as is necessary to satiate you."

It is an interesting choice of words, satiate. Then again, valkers are a species dominated by various kinds of hungers. They are always trying to fill some part of themselves with some part of something else.

"Thank you very much."

I decide I'll stay long enough to get a little rest, some good nutrition, and a new set of clothes. I might also be able to pick up some information that will help me avoid getting caught once I get out of here. I'm thinking of leaving the scythkin ship behind and taking one belonging to them. I like to think that adding insult to injury is one of my finest talents.

"My queen, we have several outfits for you."

At some point, some time later, I am woken from a very nice nap by Aristo, whose arms are absolutely laden with freshly made attire. There are a great many regal gowns, but there are also some more practical pieces. My human form must have been previously known to the tailors, for without measuring me they have somehow approximated my proportions and measurements. Did Emrys tell them that too?

"How did they know what size to make these things? They don't have any measurements, do they?"

"They saw you as you walked past, and they are blessed with gifts of observation. Our species is sometimes referred to as walking calculators. Something to do with needing to understand prey well, I imagine. The moment you stepped out of your ship, any one of us could have guessed your size, weight, speed, and many other qualities."

"Oh, yes? What else?"

"It is easily discerned that you are given to falsehoods."

I freeze as he says those words. Am I about to be busted? Did they just play along in some elaborate game only to catch me out at this moment?"

"Do not look so offended," he says. "All humans are liars."

"That is probably true," I agree, smiling. I am not offended, and I am glad he misread my expression to think I was.

"Something probably true is the last thing any human would say," Aristo says.

"Alright. Let's not make a big deal out of it, unless you have some specific lie you'd like to catch me in."

He smiles, and I have a creeping sensation that I do not know something I really very much need to know.

I settle on a very nice outfit which is a skirt, but not nearly as long as any of the others I've worn lately. This one flows in an A-line cut to just below my knee. Knee-high boots offer coverage to the lower half of my leg. The upper part of my body is clad in a light bodice, a sort of almost corset type garment that cinches in around my waist and makes the most of my shape. It's an outfit that makes me look and feel rather powerful as I examine myself in the mirror. Of course, it doesn't have the nanobot blocking powers of the roll of tinfoil I was wearing, but you can't have everything.

"A human mate fit for a king's sacrifice," Aristo says.

"Hmmm? What was that about sacrifice?"

"Love is sacrifice, is it not? Here, have another ice cream."

I take the ice cream, because it is very, very good. It's cool, which ameliorates some of the omnipresent heat of the planet. It's also one of the tastiest things I've ever consumed. It has bits of crispy caramelized sugar throughout it, so there's a creamy softness and then a crunchy goodness. Good textures existing in contrast.

As I eat, I can't help but muse that humans aren't the only bad liars. In between fresh spoonfuls of ice cream, I ruminate on the fact that it's time for me to get out of here. Just as soon as I have a little more of that sweet ambrosia they make. For creatures who mostly drink blood, they have an impressive spread of sweet treats on hand for my delectation.

Yes, it has occurred to me that I am being Hansel and Greteled. That's an ancient human tale about a couple of abandoned kids who found their way to a woman who lived in a house made of food who snatched them up and put them in a cage and fed them with the notion of eventually cooking them. As a result, I've always been careful to avoid women who live in houses made of confectionary.

"I'll put the other clothes away in the wardrobe," he says. "You can change at your pleasure, and of course, if you want anything else, anything at all, please let me know."

"I'd like fifty thousand credits transferred into an account of my choosing," I say.

Aristo looks at me blankly. "Why would you want that?"

"Why wouldn't I want that?"

He gives a little sigh. "I suppose that is a valid argument, but I am not at liberty to transfer vast amounts of the king's personal funds to humans. If you want an allowance, you need to ask Emrys. He is a generous monarch. You may very well find…"

"Can I have three credits?"

"I could arrange that, yes."

"Can I have thirty?"

"Indeed."

"What about three hundred?"

"That would be an acceptable amount."

"How about three thousand?"

Aristo gives me a stern look, as if I am an indulged brat he has the misfortune of having to attend to. "I see what you are doing, and it will not work. The threshold for allocating you money is a lot lower than fifty thousand credits. There is nowhere to spend it down here anyway, and there is nothing you need to buy. You are being provided with everything you could ever need. Money is not going to be an issue for you ever again."

"That would be nice," I muse. I suppose he's right, in a way. They have denied me nothing in all the time I have been here. "But I might want to go elsewhere and spend money there."

"As the king's mate, you will always be accompanied by someone who has an ample supply of income. You will never need to lift a finger again."

"I do like to be self-sufficient."

"You've shown no inclination in that direction since your arrival," Aristo points out.

"That's because you've been so hospitable, and I have been doing Emrys' bidding by ensuring that all is ready for his arrival."

"Oh, yes. That's right. You're doing this for the king. Who you refer to by his first name."

"Yes. We're very close."

A muscle twitches in Aristo's cheek. "Are you?"

I look him dead in his ruby red gaze and lie through my teeth. "Yes."

Iam resting and enjoying myself when a fanfare of trumpets announces something or other. They really enjoy their fanfares. There are several a day.

DUN DUN DUNUN DUNNNNNNN!

It's a very good one.

I have to remind myself that I need to get out of here before Emrys gets here. It's just too comfortable, and they're all too nice to me. I haven't wanted for anything since I arrived. Every few hours, someone comes and asks me what I want and no matter what I say, they do what I want. It's kind of intoxicating.

"Aristo!"

Aristo appears. He looks hurried, which is unusual for him. Usually he acts as though there is nothing else in the world he would rather do than attend to me.

"Yes, my future queen?"

"I'd like a bath. And one of those very fluffy towels. And I'd also like a very big sundae. Three of the usual size, but all combined into one."

He makes all the arrangements.

The bath is at the perfect temperature and has oils that smell so delicious I feel like I'm bathing in a… I don't even know. A really fucking good bath, that's what. A bath that makes me feel like more than just my skin is being rejuvenated. Foaming beads ensure that I am covered modestly when my sundae is delivered. I scoop it into my face with intense enjoyment, feeling that absolute freedom that comes with having all my material needs met and exceeded.