Page 40 of Rebel Fates

“Thanks for the explanation of what makes up food,” I say dryly.

I sniff it, and it doesn’t have a horrible smell. In fact, it smells like seasoned vegetables and grains.

I’m hanging out with Egyptian gods, or at least, their descendants. Shouldn’t I eat their weird food-paste? I’m already on a crazy adventure.

“Apparently, it turns out that humans have similar nutritional requirements as we do,” Zeek says as he nods for me to try it.

I scoop a bit onto the spork utensil and touch it to my tongue. It tastes fantastic for what it looks like. My hunger is hitting me full force. I shovel it into my mouth as fast as I can.

“Don’t make yourself sick!” Rok admonishes me as he tries to swat my hand with the spork in it. He actually sounds worried.

“You don’t care,” Zeek says, with anger in his tone. “You just don’t want to clean up her vomit.”

I stop the assault on my plate. “No. He’s right.” I lean back to prevent myself from eating more. “I could make myself sick eating so fast, but I’m just so hungry.”

“We’ll keep you fed from now on,” Serrat assures me. “No need to worry about your next meal like with the Tirbilians. Sorry it took us so long to give you something.”

I nod a reply and bite back a sarcastic comment. I don’t want to get them frustrated with me when I’m finally being fed and have a bit of freedom. “I hope I can keep it down.” Looking around, I don’t see any cups. “Water?”

Zeek jumps up and fetches me some out of a dispenser.

“Thanks.” I sip the water slowly.

The males begin to eat and relax. No conversation, but there’s camaraderie drifting in the air.

I feel a strange sense of oneness. I suppose I’m just feeling the bond between crew-mates. It feels like they have looped me into the group, however fleeting. Is this what people mention when they say they have a familyoutsideof family? I never understood the whole camaraderie thing, had never been part of a group or clique. The tension in my shoulders releases, and I don’t know why I suddenly feel so comfortable with them since my space adventure hasn’t been a peaceful experience, until now.

As I watch them eat their food, they don’t seem to enjoy it as much as I am. “You don’t like this?”

“It’s fine,” Zeek says, unconvincingly.

“Oh, crap. Did I throw off your normal meal? What do you normally eat?” I ask.

“Mostly paste like this. But by now, we usually hunger for fresh meat,” Rok says, and I don’t like the predatory way he’s looking at me.

“I don’t know if the fangs gave it away, but we are carnivores.” Zeek smiles, displaying his sharp, larger than human canines. The look is more vampiric than the teeth of a bull.

Serrat adds, “Hunting in the wild is the only way to satisfy our cravings. To chase down prey—the accomplishment of ravaging it—that’s the moment we need.”

“What do you hunt?” I ask with a lump in my throat, realizing I might be on the list.

Maybe they kept me alive to hunt me? Is that why they say I’m in danger? Will they chase me down and tear me apart to satisfy some primal need?

“Whatever smells good.” Serrat watches me out of the corner of his eye and his nostrils flare.

Shit! Do I smell good or bad? They have been sniffing at me a lot!

A heavy perfume fills the air—a combination of cloves, sweetgrass, and cinnamon. Why did their scents come on strong so suddenly?

My throat goes dry, and I nervously sip my water. After a moment, I say as casually as I can, “I understand you don’t want to tell me what’s going to happen in the coming days, but can you tell me when I can return to Earth? Or if there’s a way for me to make it back on my own?”

“In about seven days, we should be in the clear to assist you.” Serrat leans forward, gazing at me with his hypnotic green eyes. “But you need to follow our orders. No exceptions. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

His sincerity is palpable, but I still want to know what’s going on. “Are we going through a war zone or something?”

Serrat glances at Rok and Zeek. There’s a funny energy sparking in the air. I can sense it.

“Something like that,” he answers with a grimace.

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