Chapter 31

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Curled up in a ball, sobbing, hidden in the small space between some crates. That was how Margot passed the day, her ribs aching from crying so hard. Her body hurt to the core, the churning confusion of her Infala only compounding the distress. It was calling for him, reaching out. And now she knew he would never reply.

All around her the sounds of festive, cheerful voices filled the air, and soon the smells of myriad animals being roasted—once the cook had removed at least most of the shrapnel and wood splinters—in what was going to prove to be a celebratory feast like they hadn't had since the particularly profitable job on Garrlox Twelve.

The alcohol Gromm had sent from its secure storage location deep in his ship was flowing freely, and the men were merrily drinking and singing in drunken stupors, and it wasn't even night yet. It seemed that just about everyone but the cook, a few of his staff, and the poor handful of guards who had pissed off their boss enough to be walking the perimeter even though they were done on this planet, were three sheets to the wind. And it looked like they'd be even more so as the night wore on.

Instruments were brought out of the storage units, a few of the more refined of the group playing surprisingly well for mercenaries, leading the others in largely off-key renditions of what had to be their equivalent of pirates' shanty dances.

It was particularly horrible for Margot. She was in such pain. Such emotional distress. And here were these men, having the times of their lives, laughing with merriment as they swapped tales of their exploits. Exaggerated tales, as they were called out on multiple times by their brethren who had also been present at the time.

Of course, this merely elicited more laughter. Pretty much everything did at this point. They were getting off this world and that meant very soon they would be getting paid. That was how it worked with Gromm. If you signed up on his crew, you would make some very good money, but not until the job was done. When it was completely finished, however, their accounts would be flush. But they'd not see a single credit until that time.

Rylinn was the only one able to negotiate a different arrangement, but he was a very specialized sort and as such commanded a much higher rate. He also acted a bit superior to the men, which, to be fair, he clearly was. But they didn't like his attitude just as much as he found them boorish and dull. So it was that Rylinn remained in his quarters while the others frolicked, only exiting to collect a plate of barbecue to take back to enjoy in relative quiet.

Margot actually enjoyed the occasional barbecue back home, and she briefly thought about trying to score a tray for the prisoners, but the smell of charred meat only served to bring the thought of Braxxos burning to death, his ruined body just another pile of death among the others caught up in the conflagration.

A whiff of flesh hit her nose like a smoky fist. Her stomach heaved hard, a trickle of acid-bile running from her lips, snot trickling from her nose as she sobbed, trying to get control of herself.

Amazingly, a flash of cold, hard clarity washed over her, as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped on her head. She was thinking clearly, for the most part at least. And Margot very much wanted revenge. So much so that she didn't hear the faint, muffled screams of the sentries as they were torn limb from limb, decapitated and mauled, disemboweled with malice, their remains sent flying into the woods.

A beast was among them. And he was not happy.

Margot felt something strange stir in her runes. A powerful, odd, yet familiar sensation. Her heart raced as the realization set in.

He's alive!

Had she not felt it in her Infala, she'd have discovered the truth soon enough, for her mate was laying waste to every last mercenary he found. And with the benefit of Braxxos's rational mind mingling with the beast's, he was doing so with not only speed and terrifying aggression, but also a degree of stealth the raging monster had never been capable of before.

As it was a festive situation, with the Dohrags and monster both eliminated and the remaining escapees either captured or dead, the men had packed up before the party, prepping to ship out the following day. As a result, most of their gear, including the vast majority of weapons, had already been stowed and secured. It was a bit of premature celebration that would cost them most dearly.

"Oh shit!" a guard managed to scream before being ripped in half and sent flying. He died instantly, but his cry had been enough to turn the festivities into a frantic scramble for any weapons available.

"It's here!" someone yelled. "Kill it!"

The men, their feeble minds bolstered by liquid courage and the perceived strength in numbers, let loose a roaring battle cry and charged at once, all of them attacking in a single, not terribly cohesive but nevertheless unified front.

It didn't matter. The beast ignored the cuts inflicted by the puny knives the men wielded. Blows from clubs and other improvised melee weapons likewise served no effect other than to further enrage him. They'd stolen his mate, and as he raced to her rescue, he heard them bombing his beloved forest. As a result, he'd run even harder, not once changing back to his smaller form.

It had taken a full day to cover the distance, and any normal man would have been entirely spent from the effort, but this was no ordinary man, and he was on a mission. Fists flew, teeth gnashed, and bodies tumbled through the air as he lay waste to the inebriated mercenaries with zero mercy and no remorse.

In all the chaos, Margot grabbed what she hoped were the keys to the cages from a deceased guard and took off running, throwing them to Floxxia through the bars.

"Get out. This is your chance!"

"What's going on?" the woman asked, utterly confused as they had no line of sight to the inner goings-on of the camp.

"No time. Just hurry and run!"

Margot spun on her heel and raced back as fast as she could, wondering what was going on in her absence. Quite a lot, actually. Nearly all of Gromm's men were dead or dying, and their employer was only now becoming aware of the situation.

"You!" Gromm bellowed, stepping from his ship with fire in his eyes and a huge blade in his hand.

He didn't bother with any formalities such as declaring his hatred for the beast, or monologuing how he had cost him ships and many men. No, he simply shouted his battle cry and charged, his runes flaring up bright, ready for a real battle for a change. The beast was bigger, but not by much, and Gromm had the advantage of all his additional runes pouring even more power into his bulging muscles.

He swung the blade hard and fast, the metal slicing an arc through air where the beast had been just moments before, barely missing his target.

"Think you're quick, do you?" he growled, the two circling one another, stepping over, and upon, the dead and dying without a care. "I'm gonna end you."

He lunged, faking a stab, instead diving into a roll and coming up hard and fast, slashing the beast's flank. The blade cut deep, but the orange-eyed creature didn't seem to pay it any heed. The complete lack of reaction made Gromm feel something he was not used to feeling. A tiny flare of concern.

He pushed it aside, crushing any hint of weakness within himself in an instant, launching into another dizzying attack, changing course and style repeatedly, and far faster than a man his size should have been able to move. He may have been a brute, but he was a very highly trained one.

It also didn't hurt that the additional runes on his body were making him hyper-fast, and in addition to the extra speed, the blows he landed carried far more force than a normal man might possess. As a result, the beast was soon covered in slices and bleeding rather profusely.

That didn't stop the beast, though. Not for one second.

It was his turn now, adjusting his attack, surprising Gromm as he switched from brute strength to finesse, charging at him with a mighty bellowing cry, but then pulling up short just as Gromm moved to deflect his attack, putting all his force and weight behind it.

But the beast was not there.

Gromm, in his haste, spun too far, a powerful hand driving into his lower back, snapping several ribs and likely bruising an organ or two in the process. Gromm forced himself to ignore the pain, diving and rolling to his feet clear of his adversary. He moved slower now, sizing him up with newfound appreciation. This was not just some mindless creature, he realized, his combat smile spreading even wider across his face. This was what he craved. Now he had a true adversary.

"I'm gonna gut you and wear your hide as a coat," he said, tossing the knife from hand to hand as they once again circled each other. Without warning he kicked dirt up, trying to temporarily blind the beast.

But the monster was too clever for that, ducking aside and landing a solid blow to Gromm's shoulder in passing, dislocating it with a wet crunch. He felt a burst of cheer at his success, but it was immediately tempered by a terrible pain in his gut.

He looked down. The handle of Gromm's blade was jutting from his side, the metal driven in to the hilt.

"Now I've got you, ya bastard," the blue man sneered, cradling his arm.

The beast faltered, hurt badly. It was something he was not used to. He was always the biggest and toughest. But now? Now he was seriously wounded. And even in his beast form, Braxxos felt a flash of fear.

The two of them were both injured, a novel situation for each of them, and they each took a moment to compose themselves. A mutual pause only due to their simultaneously suffered injuries. Had it been otherwise, neither would have hesitated to finish the other.

Margot had come running from around the tents and had been watching the whole thing. Her love was alive, but he was hurt. But she was confident in him. He would win. He had to.

Movement from a nearby tent caught her eye.

Rylinn.

He stepped out from behind it, the annoyed look on his face replaced by one of surprise and glee. This was his big payday, the one he'd thought he'd lost. And it had just walked right into his lap. He disappeared into the tent for a moment then emerged once more, a wickedly large pistol in his hand. He took aim, only waiting for Gromm to get out of the way.

"There you go. Just a little more to the left…Gotcha!"

The blast was deafening, but the shot went wild. He glared at the woman who had charged into him, driving his aim astray.

"You little bitch. You're costing me money," he growled, slapping her with a solid backhand.

Margot tumbled aside but quickly scrambled to her feet. She looked around, desperately searching for a weapon. A piece of a table shattered in the fighting lay near her feet. She snatched it up, her other hand darting into her pocket.

"You think you can hurt me with that? You've seen what I'm made of. All up close and personal. And I think after I take down that thing, I'm going to have Gromm give you to me as a bonus."

He swung his palm at her, but she ducked aside, swinging the length of jagged metal at him. He saw it coming a mile away. Rylinn turned and caught it easily with a laugh, the metal cutting into his hand a bit, but not causing any real damage. He pulled the makeshift weapon from her hands and threw it aside, shaking his head with cruel amusement.

"Did you really think you could stop me with that ? I know you're smarter than that. What could you have possibly hoped to accomplish?

A smile slowly grew on her face, curling the corner of her mouth where his red handprint still showed. Not a cowering, but rather a victorious smile that took him quite off-guard.

"What did I want to accomplish?" she replied, holding out her other hand for him to see. "Oh, I already did it."

It took him a moment in the dim light, but he saw what she was holding in her palm. A Zillin fruit. Terribly poisonous, he knew all too well. A lesson she had paid attention to and taken to heart. He looked at the jagged metal he'd yanked from her grip. The edge was dripping with not only his blood, but also the dark juice of the Zillin.

"You little—" he started to say as he fell to his knees, the sound of combat so close by. He glanced at the beast fighting his employer, his strength failing. "It'll kill you when it's done with Gromm, you know," he gasped, straining to hold on in spite of the inevitable.

"No, he won't," she replied with a cold gleam in her eye. "He's my mate."

Whether it was the last moment of the poison taking hold or actual surprise, she didn't know. Rylinn's eyes went wide, and he made a loud gasping sound, then collapsed to the ground, never to move again.

"Good riddance," she said, spitting on his corpse.

Margot turned her attention back to the fight. Both men were exhausted. Even with runes and monster blood powering them, they'd both redlined in the fury of their battle. The beast was covered in blood, and it was mostly his own. She realized he had a knife stuck in his side, her own body twinging in sympathetic pain.

A sinking sensation surged through her. Gromm was going to win. She could feel it in her gut. He was just too strong. Gromm picked up a large storage container and raised it over his head to batter his enemy to death. She watched as the blue mercenary moved in for the kill.

"Braxxos!" she cried out in horror as her lover's death drew near.

The beast, spent and weak with blood loss, looked up, his orange eyes not glowing quite so bright. Not until they met hers. His Infala flared at the sight of her, his eyes burning with renewed fire as he grabbed the knife and yanked it from his side with a mighty roar, lunging forward in a flash, driving it up under Gromm's chin and into his brain.

There would be no dying monologue. No clever quips. The blue man didn't so much as sputter. He merely dropped to the ground, a marionette with his strings cut, the storage container toppling harmlessly away as he fell.

The beast looked at her, pure love in his gaze. "Margot…Safe," he said softly, then collapsed to the ground.

"No!"

She rushed to his side, not even aware of the freed prisoners swarming through the camp, making sure none of their captors were still alive with great ferocity. They hurried to the woman crouched over the beast.

"Gromm's dead," a wiry man holding an improvised spear noted.

"Good," Floxxia said, kicking dirt on the man's corpse. "This one's still alive though. Finish him."

Margot spun and leapt to her feet, her Infala blazing so bright it was clear to see even through her shirt. "Back the fuck off! You will not lay a finger on him, or I'll kill you myself, is that clear?"

She was terribly outnumbered, but the ferocity of her reaction made everyone now gathering stop in their tracks out of sheer surprise. This woman had fed them. She'd freed them. But this?

Floxxia dropped her own weapon along with the small pouch she'd found and claimed for her own in all the carnage, and stepped forward, hands empty in front of her. "What's going on, Margot? You need to get away from that thing."

"I won't. Don't you get it? He's the one who saved you."

"But you?—"

"I just grabbed the keys. He took out the guards. He's a good man, Floxxia. And he's my mate."

The others looked at one another in doubt but Floxxia nodded to them subtly. They lowered their weapons and carried on with their grisly task, finishing off anyone they found. Anyone but this one, it seemed.

Margot crouched over her man once again, pressing on his wound, tears running down her cheeks. "He's hurt. Bad . You've got to help him."

Floxxia took a deep breath, then squatted beside her. "Let me see, girl."

Margot hesitated.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt him, I promise."

The human grudgingly moved aside, allowing the Skrizzit better access. "Ah, this is bad. The blade seems to have—" her words fell short. "Impossible," she gasped as she watched the smaller of his wounds close up right before her eyes. "I've never thought this ability was real."

"It's real, trust me."

The woman nodded once, simply accepting the impossible was no such thing and moving forward. "Hand me that pouch."

"What's in it."

"It can help. You've got to trust me."

Margot had no choice. She handed the old woman the pouch, her spindly fingers digging through it in a hurry. "There they are." She pulled out a series of slender pieces of sharp metal, like needles only flexible. She moved to stick one into his wound.

"Stop!"

"I'm not hurting him. The wound is too big. His flesh needs to be held together to mend. I told you; you must trust me!"

Margot didn't say a word but merely backed up, letting the woman do her work. It was bloody and messy, and the end result was far from pretty, but the makeshift wire ties she used to pull his wound closed actually seemed to be doing the trick. The bleeding had already stopped, and even the farthest edges had begun to knit together.

"Well, that was certainly something new," Floxxia said with a shell-shocked chuckle. She took a cloth and some water from the debris nearby and wiped his body clean for a better look. What she saw shocked her even more. "So, this is your mate?" she asked, gently touching his Infala.

"He is."

"Show me."

Margot lifted her top revealing her matching Infala rune. The old woman touched Margot's as well, acting as a living circuit between them both. Margot felt an odd tingle, her Infala growing brighter. The beast's did too, and something else started happening. He began to change, the tufts of hair falling from his back and shoulders, his body slimming down to his normal form.

And with the hair gone, his unusual, additional runes were clear to see. Floxxia leaned closer for a better look and gasped. "Oh, the poor, poor boy."

"Wait, you know him?"

"Personally? No. But I've heard tales, yes. The cursed boy."

"What have you heard?"

The old woman rested her hand on her friend's and gave her the most warm, motherly smile imaginable. "That is not for me to say. But rest easy, my dear. Your mate will survive. He will need rest, of course, but when he is well, I believe he has quite a story to tell."