Beauty and the Fleet (Intergalactic Fairy Tales Book 2) (10 page)

The beast huffed, stood up, and carefully folded his handkerchief, tucking it into the pocket of his fancy dark blue suit jacket. Dressed this way he looked much less like a killing machine and more like a businessman. He turned and stomped out of the room.

"Bye, Josh," Beatrix called after him.

The wooden door to her small white room clicked closed and she was alone and exhausted. One short conversation and she was wiped. How crappy was that? At least it had been a productive one. Her friends were alive and well and she'd annoyed the hell out of the beast. She decided to call him Josh from then on. It would be her little act of defiance, even while she intended to cooperate with her father's murderer. So long as her friends remained unharmed. Her plan had worked. She was on the other side of the bars. Now all she had to do was regain her strength and get back to the mansion.

Her thoughts drifted and scattered like leaves on the wind, and the room went dark. Dreams took her to strange places. Josh was there, dressed in fine clothes, a red cape trimmed in fur hanging from his massive shoulders. It was even more amusing to call him Josh when he was dressed like that. He took a seat on a large chair at the end of a great hall. His face turned up to bask in a patch of sunlight, his eyes open to the barest of slits. Something glinted on top of his head. A crown of gold and silver.

Somehow, that made sense, that he should be royalty. Something about the way he spoke. That thought drifted away as quickly as it came. The view shifted. Beatrix was no longer watching him from somewhere near the high ceiling. She was at eye level, watching herself come in through the grand entrance on the other side, dressed in the most beautiful yellow gown she had ever seen. Her hair and makeup were done to perfection, blue jewels circled her neck and dangled from her ears. Dark curls framed her face. Something about that bothered her. She longed to reach up and brush them away like they were snakes. Josh passed through her and stepped up to the beautifully dressed version of herself, his hand extended. To her horror, she watched herself take it, a slight smile playing at the corner of her lips.

Music swelled from an alcove off to one side and then they were dancing. Josh moved with surprising grace for a creature of his size. Beatrix matched him stride for stride as if she had been made for dancing with Colarians, rather than murdering them. Her curls bounced merrily as she twirled.

Beatrix, in her phantom state, watched in impotent fury as her well-dressed self had the time of her life. Finally, the song ended and the beast leaned down to whisper something in her ear. Phantom Beatrix held her breath, hoping that the dance was an act, that she would pull a knife from the folds of her voluminous dress and slash his throat. Instead she tilted her head back and laughed, the curls finally falling away from her forehead to reveal two bands of black flesh that trailed up into her hair. For just an instant her phantom self and her fancy self melted together into a confusing mix of emotions and sensation.

The ballroom faded away, leaving her sitting upright in a bed of white linen. Her skin was clammy and cold, causing her thin gown to cling to her body. Breaths came in ragged gasps as her hands checked every inch of her head and back for any trace of a symbiont. Her skin crawled as if it had a life of its own and wanted nothing to do with her body. It took all of her willpower not to tear the hair from her head to be certain that something wasn't hiding in it.

While the sensations were hard to cope with, they were nothing compared to the emotional aftermath. For a moment she was inside that body, the one that danced and laughed with the beast. She was happy. With him. Without warning her stomach heaved. She barely had time to lean over the side of the bed to avoid soiling herself. She retched again and again, her stomach doing its best to turn itself inside out and climb up her throat. Mercifully, the strain was too much for her and she dissolved into unconsciousness, free from both thoughts and dreams.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The next few days were an exercise in futility. Most of them were spent sleeping, or, more accurately, unconscious. Every time she would wake up, Beatrix would push the limits of her strength until she passed out. At least now she was actually able to make it almost all the way across her small room. Somehow when she woke, she was always back in her bed, never having seen anyone put her back. It creeped her out the first time, when she realized a Colarian must have picked her up. After a lengthy discussion with herself, she decided it was better to keep pushing her limits.

The next time she woke, Josh was back at her bedside. "Beatrix," he said, as usual. This time he had waited for her to wake, rather than calling her name until she did.

"You're learning to let a lady sleep, Josh. That's more than our cat ever did. It's nice to know you're trainable. I may someday have a use for you."

"Yes, and one day we may even learn to stop urinating in the potted plants," said Josh, his tone flat.

Beatrix looked over toward the small potted tree in the corner of her room, her mouth hanging open in disgust, and then turned back to the beast. His grin was so genuine, she couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, but she quickly stifled it and schooled her face back to what she hoped was slightly annoyed. "And he has mastered the art of the juvenile joke. What next, leaving a dead bird at the door?"

Josh cocked an eyebrow. "Are dead birds some sort of Nedran joke we don't understand?"

That time Beatrix couldn't quash her laughter. It overtook her whole body until she was a quivering pile of giggles with tears streaming down her face. Every time she thought she had herself under control she would think of another ridiculous way that dead birds could be a joke. "Knock, knock. Who's there? Dead birds!"

For his part, Josh sat there quietly, a small grin causing him to show the slightest bit of fang, the proverbial cat that just ate a canary. That thought was finally enough to get her laughter under control. It reminded her again what this monster had done to her father.

She wasn't ready yet to ask that question again. The last time had resulted in Hands' torture. There was another question that was gnawing at her consciousness though. "Why do you refer to yourself as a 'we'? Are you some sort of royalty?"

"No, the Anthrak have no hierarchy. We are equal parts of the Quorum."

"Anthrak, is that what you call yourselves?"

"Yes, we are Anthrak," said Josh, the slightest hesitation in his rumbling voice.

"And you're all equal? No leaders?"

"Correct."

"Then why do you refer to yourself as we? Nedrans only refer to themselves as we when they are of a high station, speaking for themselves and those in their jurisdiction."

"We speak for all Anthrak." His tone was completely flat, all emotion drained from his face.

"How does that work exactly?" she asked, though she had plenty of theories.

"We speak for all Anthrak," he repeated, this time through gritted teeth.

"All right then, Josh. What is your name, or do you all just refer to yourselves as We-Who-Speak-For-All-Anthrak?"

"Names are useless to the Anthrak," he growled. If it weren't covered in the leathery black flesh of his symbiont, Beatrix was certain the fur on his neck would have been standing up.

"That wasn't really an answer to my question, Josh. What's your name?"

"Names are useless to the Anthrak!" The words came out more snarl than anything, barely intelligible. He'd begun to rock back and forth in his chair, his hands clenching its edge. His nails made an unholy screeching sound on the metal frame.

Beatrix wasn't at all sure what was going on, but it wasn't in her nature to let it go. This seemed to be something different than when he had gone blank and then hauled off Hands. Why would it be such a big thing to ask him his name? "What is your name?" she asked again, this time yelling so loudly that her vision darkened at the edges.

The beast made no response. Instead, his right hand came up in a series of lightning quick strikes, his palm colliding with his forehead. On the fourth hit it was clear that he was hitting right where the symbiont entered his brain. Beatrix couldn't help cringing at the violence he was doing to his head in the process. If he hit her that hard in the head, she had no doubt that she would be unconscious, possibly never to wake again. Still, ten or more hits later he was still sitting upright, but his posture was much more relaxed. Before he had been sitting, now he was lounging, as if recovering from some great exertion. Which made sense given the intensity of the beating he'd just given himself. The look in his eyes didn't convey exhaustion; they only showed relief.

"My name is Arryn." He sighed softly. "Thank you for that, by the way. It's been so long. I'm sure I'll pay for this later. It was worth it though."

"Arryn? What happened to names being useless to the Anthrak?"

"Names are useless to the Anthrak. To the Leothen, however, they are sacred." He paused. "I am Arryn." He said it like a mantra.

Beatrix scowled at him, not really sure what was going on, but certain that it had to be some sort of game he was playing. "Leothen, Anthrak. We, I. You're starting to sound schizophrenic here, so whatever game you're playing at isn't really helping you. It's just making me want to brain you and head for the door before you decide you want to know what color my insides are."

"They're red, and not really that interesting, so you have nothing to fear on that account. As for my confusing change of pronouns and such, you'll have to take my word for it that I am not dissembling. I fear to speak too much on that subject though. The more I speak of my past and the like, the more I risk the leech reasserting its will. I fear we have little enough time as it is."

"Time for what?" Beatrix asked, deciding it was best to pump him for what information he was willing to share. She could sort the truth from the lies later.

"Time for me to speak to you for the first time in truth. The first thing I need to say is that I'm so very sorry for your father. If I could take it back, I would. Just know that I've been doing everything I can since then to make it right." He sighed heavily and looked at her with pleading eyes.

"No, that is just too fucked up. You don't get to talk about him and pretend to be sorry for stabbing him in the back. Then say that you are trying to make it better by taking me and my friends hostage and torturing us to the point that we try to commit suicide." If she could have run away from him she would have; she had to settle for turning her head and closing her eyes, hiding her tears.

"That wasn't me, Beatrix. I'm sorry. It's hard to explain. I can feel the leech worming its way back in."

"You apologize for murdering my father and then try to say that it wasn't you. Don't think that I don't recognize you. Your ugly face haunts my nightmares," shouted Beatrix, her words filled with rage. Her anger was so potent and hot that it overworked her feeble body, making her words tremble. "I just wish that I had more strength back then so that I could have cut all the way to your brain instead of cutting off part of your little buddy above your eye."

Josh, or Arryn, or whatever his name was, nodded solemnly. "As do I, Beatrix. It doesn't mean that we don't have to do the best we can with what we've been left. That's what I'm trying to do, but I need your help. I can fight the leech indirectly and propose changes to your treatment in the guise of getting better results. We can talk about idle things for a time without attracting their attention, but everything we talk about must be very circumspect. If you get too direct, the leech may reassert itself with devastating consequences, like it did with your Hands. Just know that I'm trying to help you."

"I'll believe that when I'm on a ship and flying away from here," said Beatrix, shaking her head. "I imagine there will be a pig flying wingman for me that day."

Josh, as Beatrix decided to continue calling him for simplicity, was losing it again. His teeth gnashed and he struggled for every word. "Do not talk directly of escape. It will only lead to the leech taking notice and making life harder for you and your friends. Instead, let us refer to your porcine wingman. Since I don't understand the reference, it should be abstract enough to escape notice."

"I'm pretty sure you don't make any sense at all, Josh," said Beatrix, rolling her eyes. He'd probably hit himself too many times in the head and shaken something loose. "What the hell is all this talk about leeches?"

Josh let out a bellowing roar and hunched over in his chair. He rocked back and forth again, clutching at his head. His screams were mostly nonsense, or in some other language, until he finally hissed out "Syyyymb!" before abruptly resuming a stiff sitting posture, all traces of distress gone from his face. He crossed his hands in his lap and frowned.

It was so disconcerting, Beatrix found herself asking if he was all right before she realized that she shouldn't care.

"We are fine," replied Josh, his words crisp and precise in a way they weren't just a moment before. "Thank you for asking. We really must be going. We're not sure what we're doing here anyway. Do not leave this room. There will be guards posted outside. Should you set foot outside the room, you will be shot on sight."

"I hear you loud and clear, Josh," replied Beatrix, not able to come up with a snappy retort. Her skin crawled and it wasn't because of the threats. There was nothing in that voice that even slightly resembled the conversation she had just had. It was far colder than even his usual timbre with her. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes, she would have sworn they were two entirely separate people. No, not people—
monsters
. Josh was a monster. Unbidden, a question sprung to the front of her mind:
But was Arryn?
No, she wouldn't play his games. This had to be some sort of trick to win her sympathy.

"Good, we wouldn't want our investment in you to be wasted," said Josh, rising to his feet and heading toward the door.