Beauty and the Fleet (Intergalactic Fairy Tales Book 2) (11 page)

"Oh, and don't forget to work on that porcine wingman, Josh," said Beatrix, unable to write the whole incident off. "I'll expect a status report the next time I see you."

"I don't understand what you're talking about," said Josh without a hint of curiosity. He reached up and took hold of the handle to the door and then paused. Instead of stepping to the side, Josh gave the door a rough yank, causing the edge to hit his forehead. When he turned to face her, a light had returned to his eyes. Suddenly his hand shot into the air, his index finger extended. Beatrix envisioned a cartoon light bulb appearing over his head. "When pigs fly!" he declared, and then strode from the room. A second later, he popped his head back inside long enough to give her a wicked grin, and was gone too quickly to see her answering scowl.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

There were no more visits for the next two weeks. She spent the time pacing her room. Beatrix had no desire to test what Josh had said about being shot on sight should she step out the door. Now that she was conscious more often than not, she'd seen the guards delivering her food and water every four hours like before. She wasn't more free; they'd just made her cage slightly more comfortable. The only other being she saw other than her guards was what she presumed was a doctor, who came in and checked the readings on the machines that were connected to her arm and then removed the IV. He never said a word.

Though she knew it wouldn't do any good, she'd taken to talking to the guards that brought her food. She begged them to take her to see her friends. She had to know they were well. The most she ever got for a response was an occasional wince when her shouting became particularly shrill. The isolation was killing her. She didn't even have anything to read.

Slowly, her pacing developed into a workout routine. At first it was because she wanted her body in top shape so her escape attempt wouldn't be foiled by physical weakness. Eventually though, her body remembered what it meant to be a soldier and to strive for peak fitness. Every morning she would start with push ups and sit ups. She did them until her muscles burned from the exertion, and then she would do jumping jacks until it felt like she was gargling her heart. She would take a five minute breather and do it all again. Still, even that only occupied a few hours of her day. The rest of the time was spent with nothing to occupy her other than her own increasingly wild thoughts.

When Josh appeared in the doorway after two weeks, it was almost a relief. On the ship she'd had four people to talk with. And in her cell, at least she had been able to talk to Hands. The solitary nature of her hospital confinement had so unbalanced her that she'd started talking to her pillow the day before. His name was Pillow Dave. He was kind of a snarky asshole.

Oh, look, it's your kitty cat boyfriend,
said Pillow Dave.

"Shut your pasty face," grumbled Beatrix, squeezing him hard around the middle.

Ooof,
complained Pillow Dave.

"Sorry," she apologized automatically. That was mostly the nature of their conversations: snarky comments, violence, apology.

"Who are you talking to?" asked Josh, crossing the room, one eyebrow quirked. He took his seat next to her bed. His voice was back to its usual timbre, neither cold, nor warm, with a hint of wry amusement.

"None of your business, Josh," she said petulantly, then remembered just the thing to say. "I've been left alone for too long. Like you said, I had to make the best of what I'd been left."

"Ah, so you are capable of listening," he replied, exposing a little fang in his typical half-smile.

Is he flirting with you?
asked Pillow Dave, earning a punch to his mid-section. He took it without further comment.

Beatrix frowned. "I wasn't sure you'd remember anything we said after all of those blows to the head."

"Yes, I did take quite a tumble," he said, a bit of a snarl in his voice.

Beatrix took the warning and steered the conversation away from his strange behavior during his last visit. If she was going to get anything out of him, she was going to have to play his game. "You know, leaving me alone in here probably isn't the best thing for my mental health."

Damn, right,
chimed in Pillow Dave,
you've started talking to yourself. If I hadn't spoken up, you'd probably be a useless drool machine by now.

"Yes, I was thinking the same thing," said Josh, pulling out a bundle from behind his back.

"What's in there?"

"Clothes, silly. You can hardly walk around dressed in that hospital gown. It would be scandalous." His half-smile slipped back into place.

This time Beatrix returned it. "You mean I get to wear real clothes, and get out of this place? What's the catch?"

"'The catch' as you say, is that you will be required to make yourself useful around this place. Things have started to get a bit dusty since we've been gone so often lately."

So, basically he wanted a slave to clean up his house. A few days ago, Beatrix would have told him to shove it up his hairy arse. After all of her time spent with nothing but an annoying pillow for company, she'd take anything she could get. "Fine, give me the clothes already. The sooner we get out of here the better."

Fine, just abandon me here, I don't mind
, whined Pillow Dave. Beatrix ignored him.

Josh handed her the brown bundle, tied with a white ribbon. It almost resembled a present. She eyed him warily, but decided not to broach the subject.

See, I told you he was flirting! Now he's giving you gifts of clothes
, said Pillow Dave, a smug look on his face.

Beatrix took the bundle and rushed into the bathroom to get dressed, one hand clutching the back of her gown closed. She'd wear anything that meant she could get rid of her awful hospital gown. It was the worst parody of clothes that had ever been conceived. It played at allowing you some modesty, but left your arse hanging in the wind. Stupid.

Inside the bathroom and out of Josh's view, Pillow Dave's words came back to her. If the monster holding her captive—who had killed her father—really had ideas of romance in his head, he had another thing coming. If he thought accepting the clothes was her accepting his advances, a punch to the throat would clear that up quickly. Besides, grey slouchy Colarian clothes weren't much of a gift anyway.

She gave the knot an annoyed yank, and blue fabric spilled out over the bathroom counter, smelling of freshly washed linen. The scent was heaven and pushed away her angry thoughts. The dress was a royal blue with white sleeves and a white collar. Beatrix shook it out and found a white apron underneath and another small package that contained a simple pair of flats. There were even some basic undergarments. The apron made her lip curl, but it would help keep the dust off her new dress.

Beatrix emerged from the bathroom slowly, her eyes turned down toward her new outfit. The dress seemed somehow familiar, though she hadn't worn a dress in years. Not since her father had died. That's when she realized that this dress was very similar to her favorite dress from when she was a child. How could he have known? He didn't know her or her life.

"You look," said Josh, and paused, his jaw working up and down a few times before he found the next word. "Presentable," he finished.

Presentable came out sounding more like he meant to say something more flattering. She decided to take it as a compliment and then second-guessed herself. She didn't want compliments from this beast. All she wanted was to put a knife in his eye, find her friends, and skip out on the first ship they found.

Hot,
called Pillow Dave, finding just the wrong thing to say.

Beatrix self-consciously adjusted her dress. She wasn't used to worrying about the way clothes looked on her. It had been a while since she'd worn anything other than her unisex Fleet uniform.

"Thanks," said Beatrix, a hint of sarcasm coloring her voice for both Josh and Pillow Dave.

"You're welcome," said Josh, stepping closer and holding out his arm, elbow crooked as if he expected her to take it like he was some sort of gentlemen.

Beatrix ignored it completely and headed for the door. Josh walked beside her, lowering his arm, as though he didn't notice the slight.

No, thank
you
,
called Pillow Dave. Beatrix glanced over her shoulder and caught him leering at her rear end.

"Ugh, little pervert," she mumbled under her breath.

"Beg pardon?" said Josh.

"Nothing, just my imagination getting the best of me. I need to stop reading so many fantasy books."

"Oh, that's a shame," said Josh cryptically.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Much to her surprise, when Beatrix stepped out of the hospital room, she didn't find herself in a hospital. Josh started speaking like a tour guide, showing her from room to room. She was still in the mansion. She paid very little attention to what he was saying, all of her thoughts centered on the prison and her friends being held there, somewhere below.

"If I'm to be your slave, I need to at least be able to see my friends," said Beatrix after touring her third sad, dusty room full of disused furniture. The rooms were the formal entertainment spaces of the gigantic home. Each of them was easily capable of holding over a hundred people comfortably. Beatrix could imagine the place overflowing with rich guests who had no idea there was a hospital wing located just off the enormous kitchen, and a dungeon behind the wine cellar. The prison she understood, but what possible reason could there be for a fully appointed hospital room in a private residence? She decided that it must have been added for prisoners such as herself. After all, it was cleaner than the rest of the place.

"You're not my slave, you're my guest," corrected Josh.

"Your guest who is being held against her will and being told to do work for no pay," retorted Beatrix.

"Point," said Josh, inclining his head. "That does sound very much like slavery. We're not used to having guests. The work isn't compulsory. We just wish you to make yourself at home. If you wish to live in a dusty, drab, domicile, then that is your right."

"Nice bit of alliteration there, Josh, but don't think your fancy word play has distracted me from my original point. I want to see my friends."

"Well, I do have a fair few flights of fancy fraught with frenetic flourishes of that sort," said Josh, opening the door to a cavernous space that was mostly empty and was strangely divided into multiple hallways.

"What kind of room is this?" asked Beatrix, before Josh flipped on the lights and she let out a surprised gasp. What she thought were strange hallways were actually shelf upon shelf of books. Each of them was three meters tall if it was a centimeter, and the walls were covered with books as well. It was easily the largest library she'd ever seen outside of the main library in the city. There was only one open space with a couch and a couple of well-used leather chairs. Unlike the other rooms, there wasn't a bit of dust to be found on a single shelf. Someone had obviously cared for this room and used it often. Keeping it dusted would be a massive chore in itself.

"Feel free," said Josh, continuing his string of alliteration.

Beatrix would have been impressed, had her thoughts not been so occupied with the sheer volume of the library before her. The only thing that kept her from grabbing books at random and sitting down to read her life away was the thought of how abandoned and lonely her friends must feel down in their cells. "My friends," Beatrix said, keeping all trace of her excitement from her voice.

"Of course," Josh said. Beatrix thought she heard a hint of disappointment coloring his voice. "They're just through here. You will have the run of the house, that includes visiting your friends, though you will be escorted by guards at all times that you are in the detainment area."

"If I'm allowed to roam the house, why aren't my friends?"

"We made the case that more freedom would help your suicidal tendencies." Josh glanced at her bandaged wrists. "Besides, one weakened Nedran girl doesn't pose much of a security threat."

Beatrix gritted her teeth to hold back her angry rebuttal. If he thought of her that way, it would only help her cause. "My friends?" she repeated.

"This way," said Josh, opening a door on their right.

Beatrix stepped out of the library and found herself in a familiar hallway. She knew at the other end would be the stairs down to the wine cellar. It was strange that so far there had been no evidence of the drab Colarian grey she had imagined to be everywhere on their home world. The only place she'd seen it was in the military garb of her guards and in the prison. She filed the information away to ask Josh about later. His strange dual personality and the lack of grey were adding up to quite a puzzle and she had a hard time letting a puzzle sit without working on it.

Now, though, it was time for a long overdue visit with her friends. If she found them to be anything less than the picture of health, she would choke Josh to death with her bare hands.

They passed through the wine cellar and Josh unlocked the grey door at the back with a grey key on a ring he pulled from his pocket. The small room on the other side of the door was all in grey, including the single table and two chairs that the guards sat in. One was Woolly, his eyes locked on Beatrix and glaring death at her, even as he and his partner stood up and came to attention.

By some unseen command, the guards relaxed their stance. Woolly's eyes burned a hole in Beatrix's forehead. She had no idea why, but he'd hated her since setting eyes on her in the transport ship. Now it was different though. It had somehow matured into resentment. Maybe it had something to do with her tossing him into a wall. Beatrix was actually glad to have Josh by her side because she was certain he would take her gruesome murder as a personal affront. Though Josh had said there was no hierarchy among the Anthrak, they certainly acted like his subordinates. More pieces of the puzzle to be untangled later.