Page 224 of Scorching the Alien Empire
I glare at Bitch Brick, feeling a new sense of loathing bubbling in my guts.
How dare she do whatever it is she did! Probably imprinting terrible taste in men into her.
“We’re both here. Your son, Dracoth. And me—Lexie, your daughter-in-law.” I keep brushing, keep soothing. Slowly, Mama Dracoth’s frantic breath begins to steady. Her hands stop twitching. The haunting, absent humming resumes.
“She’ll be fine,” I say over my shoulder to Dracoth. His rage simmers behind those blood-red eyes, betrayed only by the subtle tension in his jaw. “Once we get these cuts cleaned.” I glance down at her scalp, tutting at the depth of the wounds.
“Maybe we should try a healing pod?” Bitch Brick suggests, clutching at straws now she has an ostrich-sized egg on her face.
“We tried,” Sandra chimes in, glowing like a ginger sunrise. “None of them responded. I’m Sandra, by the way.” She trots over, hand extended, all warmth and kindness. “When I heard there was another woman, I couldn’t wait to meet you!”
Bitch Brick blinks, caught off guard by the friendliness—and probably the fact Sandra’s draped in a brown woolly pillowcase. But she recovers quickly. “It’s lovely to meet you. I’m Roxanne, but...” she chuckles, casting a fond glance back at Krogoth, “everyone just calls me Rocks. He started it. Now it’s kind of stuck.” She takes Sandra’s hands in hers. “I’d love to catch up after this meeting.”
That’s it, Sandra. My little ginger mole of irresistible friendship.
“I’d like that, Rocks,” Sandra smiles, nodding. They lock eyes like new playground BFFs—except the sandbox is made of politics and blood.
“Krogoth, do you think Tyrxie could help Dracoth’s mother? You know, since she healed the youths.” Bitch Brick glances back, her hopeful words pricking my ears.
Tyrxie? That name sounds like a back-alley, hobo drug dealer with delusions of grandeur. Is she like me... well, nearly like me.Almost divine? How many are there? A dozen? A hundred? My spine straightens.
“It’s possible,” Krogoth replies, stroking his chin. “Though she and Xandor departed for Klendathor to complete the Mortakin-Tok.”
I don’t like this. Ireallydon’t like this. I’m supposed to be the one. The Divine Daughter. Not last year’s sacred edition, gathering dust in the dark recesses of a wardrobe of unfashionable pretenders while new models get rolled out.
“What is this madness?” the Big-Bellied Chief exclaims, rising. His ruddy face burns redder, voice thunderous. “Our females returned. Strange abilities. Bonding with aliens. And now a cure for the sin that cursed our youths?” He raises his arms, sending his bone-laden beard and hair jangling. “Have the Gods finally forgiven us? Have they answered our devotions, our sacrifices?”
His gaze sweeps between Krogoth and Dracoth—between divine calm and divine wrath. “And now... throughyou... salvation.”
“You speak of salvation, Borrthak?” Peacock Big Chief sneers, puffing up like an angry turkey. “This one slewourWar Chieftain Gorexius!” He jabs a trembling finger at Krogoth. “Then dragged us into a traitorous, ill-prepared assault—allying with these...Nebians.” His voice grows louder. “Did we not just fight and die by the thousands breaking their war machine?”
His hand slams down on the twisted metal table with a thunderous smack. “By whatrightdoes he betray their sacrifice?!”
“By right of Krak-Tok,” Krogoth growls, his voice vibrating with barely leashed power. “By decree of the Council of Elders. By the blood oaths of the Clans. The authority of the High Chieftain’s ancient crown. And by the noble blood flowing throughmyveins.”
With each lofty title, his voice grows darker, heavier—like he’s building for an EDM drop. Peacock recoils, eyes downcast like he’s done ten rounds with a tank.
Ugh. Leave it to Todd and me to save the day. Again.
“That’s funny...” I begin sweetly, brushing Mama Dracoth’s golden hair, every word honeyed poison. “Because what I heard? You used your powers to beat up Dracoth’s daddy. I mean, I’m no expert on bone-through... um, Klendathian politics, but that doesn’t sound very honorable to me.” I flick a glance at Bitch Brick and flash a razor grin. “That’s like entering a fashion show in an unsightly purple dress.”
Her expression shifts instantly—no more nice girl. Her mouth twists into a sneer: betrayed, outraged, like a brown mouse catching someone nibbling her last cube of cheese.
“Silence!” she snaps, misting violet-hazel eyes flashing. Her words hit me like a bucket of cold water, reverberating in my mind like an intrusive thought I didn’t ask for.
But Todd’s mirror runes blaze.Silver fire. Beautiful. Divine. Aenarael’s gift.
Her mouth opens again—but no sound. Only silence. Her hands fly to her lips in horror.
I laugh. Oh, Ilaugh. “Cat got your tongue?” I purr, leaning in. “Aw. That’s tragic.”
Her mouth widens in what could be a soundless scream. I savor it like fresh mocha. Sweet, delicious revenge.Divine Mother truly is a genius.
“Now where was I, before being so rudely interrupted?” I say brightly, turning to the room. “Ah yes. The ‘Council of Elders’?” I gesture to encompassthe immense, opulent room. “Funny. I don’t see them. Maybe they’re at home sipping Dark Tar Stouts while you lot risk your necks? And the blood oaths of the Clans?” My gaze sweeps over the Big Chiefs—a mix of stunned andthoughtful faces. “Youare the Clan leaders. Didyouagree to this?”
A ripple of murmurs. Heads shaking. All except Mummy-wrap Chief.
“So, phonies then? They probably found hobos, gave them different colored clothes, and a pat on the back,” I snort, flicking my wrist at the garish, horned monstrosity on Krogoth’s head. “And that...hat?Something you found at the circus? Tell me, what if, say... the wind blew it off and some kid picked it up, wouldhebe High Chieftain? He also speaks of blood. But here stands Dracoth, the son of War Chieftain Gorexius.” I gesture to my murder husband. “The rightful ruler.”
