Page 61 of Rok's Captive
I’d noticed it before but hadn’t given it much thought. Discovering her presence was shocking enough. Her wearing a stone inside her ear was the least strange thing about her. Now it glints unnaturally, and I realize the voice came from there. Some kind of magic? A trapped spirit? Is she possessed by something?
I bare my teeth, claws scraping against stone, ready to defend us against whatever unseen threat has revealed itself.
“Oh my God,” she breathes.
I wish I could understand, but I am no fool. She does not appear to be alarmed.Why?
Because she knew of this intruder all along. How long has this spirit been watching us? Listening to us?
My nostrils flare. My spine curving as I get ready to pounce. I will rip it from her ear and smash it till it turns to dust. I cannot trust this female’s instincts when she has left such a thing so close to her skull.
This is an unknown. Danger.
Danger she was aware of.
The tribe. My clan. I cannot take her there. Not yet. Not until I understand what she is, and why Ain has sent her.
Seeing my stance, she rises slowly, arms stretched out toward me, palms pointing down. “Wait!” She’s standing now, approaching me like I would a creature of the dust that I do not want to startle. “It’s not dangerous—it’s helping us!”
Useless words.
Useless words mean nothing.
“Rok…Rok…It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s just my translator. It’s not dangerous.”
The stone in her ear speaks again. “CALIBRATION AT 10%.”
The sound seems to come from nowhere and everywhere at once.
I do not trust it. I do not trust anything that speaks words without a mouth, that hides inside her skull like a parasite.
This is…unnatural.
I stare at her outstretched hands, at the hope blazing in her eyes, at the stone that whispers with voices that should not exist. My muscles remain coiled, ready to strike. To protect. To destroy.
Chapter18
VIOLENCE: NOT THE BEST COMMUNICATION STRATEGY
JUSTINE
It happens so fast I can barely process it.
One moment, I’m watching Rok crouch defensively, his golden eyes fixed on my translator earpiece, his body coiled like a spring about to release.
The next, there’s a blur of movement—so quick I can’t even track it—and then his clawed hand is at my ear, a sharp pain flares across my skin, and he’s leaping back with my earpiece clutched between his fingers.
“NO!” I scream, lunging forward. My hands wrap around his forearm, but it’s like hugging the branch of a tree. He doesn’t even seem to notice my grip, my strength completely negligible against his.
With one swift, savage motion, he slams the earpiece down and crushes it with a rock. I would laugh at the pun if a scream didn’t lodge itself in my throat instead. Over and over he slams the rock down until only fragments remain—bits of crystal, twisted metal, and tiny components I can’t even identify.
The world stops.
I stare at the destroyed remains of the translator as they fall like dust from the stone.
My last connection to understanding. My only chance of communication. Gone.
The sound that escapes my throat doesn’t even sound human—it’s raw, primal, a keening wail of loss and fury and disbelief.
