Hinekiri (7 page)

Hinekiri descended the stairs and stopped at the bottom. She sniffed again and dabbed at a lone tear that escaped and ran down her cheek. “You’re a good man, Richard Morgan. I think Killer would like having a special monument in her honor.” She pressed a button on her small control pad and the spaceship vanished. “Let’s do it.”

They made their way back down the track, the scuff of their boots and the noisy squabbling of a flock of tuis chasing each other through the treetops the only sounds to break the silence. The purple lump that was once Killer and the Torgon sat right where they’d left it, not disappearing like the other Torgon remains at Robbie’s Car Parts. When he heard a sob from behind him, he turned and drew Hinekiri into his arms. Her shoulders shook as she burrowed into his chest. Richard let her cry, holding her tight and trying to subdue the knot of sorrow in his throat. Damn if he didn’t feel like crying himself.

Finally, Hinekiri drew back, her face red and shiny with tears. “We’d better collect the last of the parts and get back to the ship before more Torgon arrive.”

Richard nodded and led the way down the track, instinctively knowing she’d want to gather herself without him watching. When they arrived back at the SUV, they quickly unloaded the parts and headed straight back to the ship.

Richard dropped the assortment of car parts with the others before turning to Hinekiri. “Do you want to do the repairs first or take care of Killer?” He scowled without warning. “Blast, I forgot to grab my bag.”

Hinekiri set her box of parts down and wiped her hands on the seat of her jeans. “We can collect it later. Let’s take care of Killer.” Her voice broke halfway through saying the little dog’s name.

Nodding, Richard picked up the shovel, claimed her hand in his free one and they walked back to the spot of the attack.

“Where do you want me to dig?” Richard asked.

“You choose.” Hinekiri wiped away a falling tear. “Damn, it was a little dog. I shouldn’t be crying this much.”

“She had a big heart. Of course you should miss her.” Richard glanced over Hinekiri’s shoulder at the pile of purple goo. He blinked and watched with quiet concentration. Yep, he hadn’t been seeing things. The bloody thing
had
moved.

“Hinekiri, look.” He placed warm hands on her shoulders, turned her to face the right direction. “The purple stuff is moving.”

“Killer?” Hinekiri whispered, hope in her voice. “She’s alive?”

Richard frowned at the moving goo. “Do you think it’s really her? It doesn’t look big enough. Maybe the alien’s heart is still working.”

Hinekiri snorted. “Trust me, Torgon don’t have hearts. They’re mercenaries seeking profit. Not a smidgeon of compassion in them. It has to be Killer.”

“How do we get her out?” Richard bent to touch the moving purple ooze, but Hinekiri stilled him with a warning hand on the shoulder.

“The stuff is toxic when it comes in contact with body covering. It is for me so I’d say you’d be the same.”

“You mean skin? But what about fur?”

“I don’t know. Usually the stuff reacts with the atmosphere and vanishes. I don’t know whether we should wait or not.” Worry creased her brow. “It should have disappeared already.”

Richard glanced at the purple stuff. It wobbled like a jelly at a kid’s birthday party. The metal rod Hinekiri had thrown at the purple pansy still protruded from the goo. Grasping the end, he tugged and found it warm to the touch. Strange. “This stuff doesn’t smell too good. Sorta a mix of old socks, smelly toilets and two-day-old fish. Actually—it’s worse than that. Hard to put a description to the stench.”

“Yeah, I’ve smelled better. Make sure you don’t get it on your…” She hesitated as though she was searching for the right word. Her mouth puckered up and her brows scrunched together. It was fascinating watching, especially when her forehead smoothed out magically. “Forearms,” she finished in triumph.

“Right.” Richard rolled his sleeves back down before he pulled on the metal rod. The goo made a squelching sound but didn’t release the rod. He lifted the rod and the goo followed until it resembled a pointy purple cone or witch’s hat. “Look,” he said, a trace of excitement shading his voice. “I can see Killer’s nose.”

“Where?” Hinekiri moved closer and put her hand on his shoulder before peering past to study the goo. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” Relief filled him. All they had to do was remove the dog before the goo damaged it too much. “See the small, pointy bit poking out?”

“Oh yes.” Hinekiri clung to his arm, bouncing up in down with excitement.

“Grab a stick. Maybe if we both try to pierce the stuff.”

“What if she can’t breathe?”

A subdued woof sounded.

“I think she’s okay,” Hinekiri said. “Hold tight, Killer. We’re going to get you out.”

A panicked growl came from inside the goo.

A few minutes later, Richard managed to force a small hole in the purple stuff.

“Woof.”

A black nose poked out. It twitched and the hole grew. Teeth appeared next. “Woof. Woof. Woof. Woof!”

Hinekiri laughed but Richard couldn’t see the humor. A splotch of goo had hit his forearm because he hadn’t taken the time to button up the cuffs on his sleeves. The bloody stuff stung. After Hinekiri’s warning about toxicity, he hoped his arm didn’t drop off. Although after aliens, purple pansies and shootouts, nothing much would surprise him today.

“Woof. Woof.”

Hinekiri used her stick to tear another huge piece of goo away from Killer’s body. The second it dropped discarded on the ground the goo hissed and vanished. The goo came off slowly, bit by bit. Killer barked and growled the whole time. Finally, she yanked away from the last remaining piece of goo and barked again. She stretched, her front legs extending and her butt and tail rising in the air. Killer repeated the move, extending her rear legs before sitting on her haunches. Her fur looked damp and she wasn’t quite the same as before.

“She’s purple,” Richard said.

“Woof.” Killer sounded highly indignant, bringing a twitch of a smile to Richard’s lips. The dog looked as if she’d washed in one of the purple hair rinses some of the elderly women in Sloan favored. “Woof.”

“Is she okay?” Richard asked.

“She’s doing a lot of grumbling. That’s a good sign.”

Killer’s head swiveled and she seemed to study her coat. She barked several times, sounding very piqued.

“Shush, Killer. Later.” Hinekiri grasped his arm. “We’d better get to the ship before we run into more trouble.”

Richard was all for that. His arm was bloody sore. “Do you have a first-aid kit on board?”

“Why?” Hinekiri’s voice was sharp.

“I have purple stuff on my arm. A bit flicked up.”

“You should have told me. Let’s go. Move it,” Hinekiri ordered with a trace of urgency. She seized the metal rod and set a blistering pace powering away up the narrow track toward the crest of the hill with Killer following. Richard picked up the shovel and trailed Hinekiri and the decidedly purple dog.

At the top of the hill, Hinekiri paused. Richard tried to focus on her rounded butt. Her form flickered and he shook his head to clear his vision but it didn’t work. Richard could barely see because his eyes had become so blurry. After transferring the shovel from hand to hand, he swiped the back of his hand over his eyes but it didn’t make a blind bit of difference. The spaceship shimmered in front of him. He shut his eyes then opened them but they continued to water. In fact, he felt damned woozy.

The set of stairs came down with a metallic whine.

Hinekiri cast him a worried glance. Richard intercepted it and tried to walk straight. His legs were wobbly and the weight of the shovel he carried made him feel off balance.

“Go up the stairs.” Hinekiri stood aside to let him pass. “Leave the shovel down here.”

The dog trotted up without hesitation. After dropping the shovel, Richard tried to follow. All he wanted was to sit before he fell. By sheer force of will, Richard forced his legs to maneuver up the stairs, dragging his uncooperative body up the narrow stairs one tortured step at the time. Panting, he made it through the door before collapsing on the floor of the spaceship interior.

“Richard!”

He heard the trace of panic in Hinekiri’s voice when he hit the ground. His hearing seemed to waver in and out while his eyesight wasn’t much better. A crashing sound roared through his head, drowning out every thought. He felt as if he walked in a long, white tunnel with no start and no beginning. There was nothing…

“Me purple,” Killer yapped in distress.

“I don’t care if you’re pink with black polka dots,” Hinekiri snapped, stooping to check Richard’s forearm. It was swollen and angry already. By the goddess, he was so big. How was she going to get him to her cubicle for treatment?

“I adore black spots. Hip. Stylish.”

“I’ll get a blanket, roll him on it and drag him,” Hinekiri muttered. There was no time to get help from Janaya. Not when she could treat him here with the medi-diagnostic machine. She placed her hand on his forehead to check his heat levels. He felt normal for a human. Generally, their core temperature was a bit less than a Dalconian. “Blanket. It’s the only way.”

“What wrong with black spots?”

Hinekiri ignored the dog’s rambling and hurried off to get a blanket. She had one of those gold thermal ones in the guest cubicle.

The dog padded backward and forward in front of the reflective silver control panel peering at her likeness. Hinekiri sidestepped to avoid the creature and rushed back into main control. She spread the golden therm-blanket on the floor and rolled Richard. Yanking with all her might, she mumbled a low plea to the goddess that this would work. The therm-blanket slid along the matte silver floor of the spaceship with ease. A relieved sigh squeezed from her tight throat. She would manage. Fifteen Earth minutes later, she maneuvered Richard’s large frame into her guest cubicle.

The dog followed her, complaining the entire way. “Fix me. I white dog, not purple dog. Purple ugly. Janaya think me purple people eater. Shoot. Bang. Zap. Killer dead.” She glared at Hinekiri, shaking her head so vigorously her ears flapped. “Then you be sorry.”

“Out!” Hinekiri ordered with unusual steel evident in her tone.

“Fix me now,” Killer demanded.

“I’ll help you after Richard. You seem okay apart from being purple, but he’ll die if he doesn’t get treatment.” A tight lump of emotion in her throat prevented further speech. “Out.”

“You promise?”

“Yes!” Hinekiri pushed the button to make the suction door work. Once it closed, she pressed the gravity control while holding on to Richard with one hand. It wouldn’t do for him to thump his head and do further damage. After securing him with bonds—she attached one to each arm and leg to hold him suspended in the air—Hinekiri inspected the spot where the Torgon acid had infected him. A round red area the size of a cup was shining on his arm. She’d have to immerse him in Dalconian healing liquid. It was all she had for his treatment. For an instant, she wondered if it would hurt him but there were no alternatives. Gritting her jaw, she deftly removed his boots, easing the gravity control bonds off one at the time while she floated at his side. Phrull. It looked as though the Torgon goo had splattered on his clothes as well. She might as well cut the shirt and trousers off since he wouldn’t be able to wear them again.

* * * * *

Where the hell was he? Richard tried to move but felt as weak as a kitten. His eyes fluttered open and he instantly wished he’d kept them closed. Panic seared his gut. His limbs jerked but she’d shackled him, leaving him suspended in midair with not a stitch of clothing. And to top it off, he had an intensely painful hard-on. The one thing that came to mind was Hinekiri had lied. The bloody alien was conducting some sort of test on him. Every bone in his body ached and muscles throbbed as though they’d been overused. Vigorously used.

A soft swish indicated he was no longer alone. Hinekiri walked into his line of vision, petite and regal in a close-fitting, rainbow-colored robe that clung to her curves and swished to reveal a shapely thigh when she walked slowly around him.

His cock pulsated and it wasn’t a particularly nice sensation. The panic inside increased. “What have you done to me?” Instead of a forceful demand, the words emerged in a whispered croak.

“Richard,” she said.

He thought he heard delight, but wasn’t sure he trusted his assumption, given she’d trussed him like a chicken ready to barbeque. It could be that she was glad he was awake so she could continue with whatever the hell she’d been doing to him. His cock chose that moment to jerk. Richard’s scowl darkened as he fought for control. One mighty fine clue to help solve the puzzle as to her activities. That and the fact she was naked beneath that rainbow gown. Her nipples were poking out, signaling go just like a bloody traffic light when it turned green.

Richard suppressed a snort and tested the shackle on his left hand, moving stealthily so the bonds holding him didn’t creak. It wasn’t constructed from a familiar material.

“Are you feeling all right?” She placed a cool hand on his forehead. “No wooziness? You don’t feel as hot as you were before.”

“Before?”

Richard thought back trying to remember what had happened. They’d found parts and driven out here. Then…then… “There was a purple pansy.” But that didn’t explain why he was in the room and trussed up tighter than a Sunday roast leg of lamb.

“Nice pole, sailor.”

“Where are my clothes?”

The humor in Hinekiri’s face faded. “You collapsed after the Torgon toxin splattered onto your arm. You had an allergic reaction. I had to take your clothes off to cover your body with Dalconian healing liquid.”

“Hmmm.” Richard cast a doubtful look toward his groin region. And how exactly had this raging erection occurred? His eyes closed to slits, concentrating his glare on her face. “What else did you do?”

Hinekiri made a tsk-tsking sound at the back of her throat. “Are you thinking bad thoughts, Richard Morgan? Do you think I had something to do with that?” She waved a languid hand toward his unruly body part.