Page 153 of Scorching the Alien Empire
“Really?” I question, outrage simmering beneath a look of incomprehension. “Do I look like someone who would gocrawling around some filthy, stinking engines scraping gunk off walls?” My hands gesture to my robes, my perfectlycleanrobes. “And you think I’d bless my followers with toxic space-gunk sludge?”
Razgor studies me for an awkward beat, his gaze trailing from head to toe, considering.
Such a rude prick!
“I’m unfamiliar with human standards,” he says at last, tilting his head in something resembling an apologetic gesture. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
A brilliant, fitting idea that recently came to me.
I smile, slow and knowing. “The ashes I use aren’t just any old cinders. They are the sacred ashes of Scarn, fused with Arawnoth’s own herald—Elder Ignixis.”
Sandra chokes, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh, poor Elder Ignixis,” she gasps. “That’s sonasty,Lexie.”
Unbelievable. I haven’t even finished, and she’s already complaining!
“What?” I snap, throwing a glare of molten silver in her direction. “Elder Ignixis would have approved! I studied the sacred words with him—I knew how he thought.”
Assuming he was clever enough to think of it himself.
“Plus,” I continue, placing a solemn hand over the scorched runes on my chest, “if I die, I expect you to do the same for me.”
As if I’d ever die. I’m basically invincible.
Sandra’s eyes widen, her freckles standing out against her paling skin. “The same?” she echoes, her ginger brows creeping up toward her hairline like orange caterpillars. “Lexie... what are you on about?”
I sigh loudly, my frustration growing, like I’m speaking Klendathian without a translator. “You’d consume my ashes, of course.”
She stands there, blinking. Her mouth opens and closes, moving soundlessly as if someone just slapped her across the face with a wet fish while Todd took a dump in her coffee.
I press on, undeterred. “And you’d have to give some to wee chug bug too, before you look after him for me.”
“Ack, you’re talking nonsense, Lexie.” She finally finds her voice, shaking her head as if waking from a nightmare. “You’re letting all this cult stuff go to your head.”
Cult stuff? Is that all I am? Some fucking cult stuff!
A storm ignites inside me, rage sudden and charged like lightning. My hands tremble, nails digging into my palms. My breath quickens, shallow and sharp.
Sandra steps back, her expression flickering with something Ineverthought I’d see in her.
Fear.
“Lexie?” Her voice is smaller now, cautious. Her arms lift slightly, palms open. “Are you okay?”
And just like that, the fire in me is smothered. My blood turns to ice. The sight of fear on her face—my friend’sface—twists my insides into knots.
I exhale slowly, the tension bleeding out of me like my bank balance during a new fashion season.
“I’m fine,” I mutter, my gaze dropping to the polished black marble floor.
I force myself to straighten, to gather the fraying edges of my composure. My voice is measured, but it rings hollow. “As I was saying... before being rudely interrupted.” I glance toward Razgor, meeting his still-stunned gaze. “If I can’t bring the ashes of Scarn here, then I’ll use the fruits of Scarn.”
He blinks, confusion plain on his face.
I tilt my head. “How many fell during the haunted house of murder-bots?”
“Haunted house?” Razgor mutters under his breath, now totally confused and lost. Good. Better to keep people guessing—means they’ll do what I ask. “Um... four berserkers, Divine Daughter.”
Sandra lets out a sound of pure revulsion. “That’sdisgusting, Lexie.”
