Sabin, A Seven Novel (36 page)

Rafe narrows his eyes and says, “So, what do you want me to do about it? Rub his back?”

“Jesus, you’re a bigger asshole than he is. I want you to help him, dammit!”

“You’re the one with the fucking vagina. I would think you could do a better job of that than I.”

His comment shocks and outrages me so much I have no reply. There’s nothing for me to say to someone like him, so I walk away. As I’m leaving, he says, “If the heat is too much for you here, you can always leave, Serena.”

“Leave? And go where?” I stop and ask.

“Wherever the fuck it is you came from.”

His bitterness fills the room. I can practically feel its tang on my tongue. If ever I could form a clever response, I wish it would be now, but unfortunately, I revert to that little kid again, sitting on the bus, being bullied by my peers. My head dips down and I walk away, rubbing my sweaty palms on my shorts. The need to escape from Rafe is intense; I pick up my pace until I find myself out on the beach, running, alone. It’s dusk, but I don’t care. I run until my lungs scream for air and my thighs burn. It’s been so long since I’ve run I never want to stop. Tears blur my vision but it doesn’t matter. If I’d only run as a kid, maybe those stupid bullies wouldn’t have ruined my life. Then I think about what Rafe said. The sad thing is I couldn’t go home if I tried. I have no means to. With no money, no home, no job, how could I ever accomplish that? And did they wipe me out when I left? Does Serena Callahan exist anymore? Does anyone even care about me? It’s not like anyone did before, so why would they now?

The moonlight shines a wide silvery path over the water, as it’s nearly dark by now. I take a seat on the white sand and dig my toes in deep, thinking about what a fucked up life I have. The only thing that mattered was getting my PhD, and now that has been ripped away. Sabin matters, but he’s drifting away, locked in his grief. He won’t let me in to help him. Rafe despises me for some unknown reason. Edge is fond of me, I think, but the others? I have no idea because they’re all so uncommunicative. All of this is better than living with my parents, but I want Sabin to come back to me. I wish I knew a way to get him to talk.

Looking down the beach, I see two figures headed my way. They must’ve guessed I was gone. I’m surprised it took them this long to figure it out. Usually they’re on it faster than this. I stand up to brush the sand off my shorts, and when I look up to say something, I realize my error. It’s not Sabin or any of his men. The red pupils that glow in the dark are the dead giveaways. And I know I’m in serious, if not fatal, trouble.

Then, one smiles at me. Yep, fatal trouble for sure. The pointed teeth and dripping saliva clue me in. Strangely enough, I’m not panicked. I know I should be, but right now my heart is so achingly heavy, I don’t really give a shit what happens to me. Foolish, I know, but all the adrenaline has left the building.

“Hello there. Out for a stroll?” I’m not sure they speak English, not to mention, what the hell kind of thing is that to say?

They stare. I don’t blame them. I would stare, too. Sabin says the Shaurok are not very intelligent, but I’m not acting like I have one active brain cell either. What the actual fuck am I thinking? Out for a stroll? Jesus. As I’m having my mentally deranged internal dialogue, one of them sidles up to me and extends a hand. Talk about creepy. They’re white, and I’m talking chalky looking. Their skin looks luminous in the moonlight. Their fingernails are purplish-gray and pointy, like their teeth. The brightness of the moon only emphasizes their sinister appearance. I wish I couldn’t see them so well.

“You are the leader’s female.”

It’s a statement, not a question. His voice is disturbingly feminine, which makes him even spookier to me. For some reason, I expected a voice like Lord Voldemort, because in a way, that’s what they look like—hairless, pale, and just strange looking. But his ladylike voice totally throws me.

“I’m not so sure about that anymore.” A couple of weeks ago, yeah. Now, probably not. You don’t treat the woman you love way Sabin has been treating me lately.

My answer clearly throws him. He is unsure of what to do. His head tilts to different angles, slanting this way and that, and that’s when it hits me. He’s getting information from someone. It’s almost like he’s wired or perhaps he’s wearing a camera and someone is telling him what to do and say.

What should I do? Do I try to make a break for it? Would I even have any kind of chance if I did?

“What do you want from me? I have nothing.” I hold my hands up in the air for emphasis.

He rolls his head around, and is silent for a long, awkward moment. Then his eyes close, as his arm reaches out and his fingers wrap around my wrist. A eerie sensation begins to creep over me and pins and needles erupt all over my body, like when your hand or foot falls asleep and the blood starts to flow back in. My initial instinct is to shake my arms and legs to get that feeling to stop, but my limbs don’t respond. They won’t move at all. And now the panic sets in. The oxygen disappears and I can’t breathe, nor can I speak. Only then do I notice that my surroundings have changed. I’m no longer standing on the beach, with the silvery moon reflecting on the water. I’m soaring through the black vacuum of space, the Shaurok’s hand bracing my wrist, and this time I don’t want him to release me. If he does I’ll float off into this vast emptiness and surely die. How can I be out here without any kind of suit? Maybe that’s what he did to me when he touched me. I’m alive, so whatever it is it worked. But where are they taking me? Is it to the planet that Sabin and his men visited? I’m not sure how long I can stand not breathing. My lungs burn with the need for oxygen. But as the thought hits me, the searing ends and I instantly feel … good.

However, these two creatures are taking me somewhere, and this can’t be good. What Sabin has told me is they usually kill without mercy. So why didn’t they kill me? What do they want from me? It’s apparent someone is ordering them around. Sabin said something about a mastermind. Who is this person and what does he want from me? He must know I no longer have Judgment Day. Even though I’m still carrying about its imprint, I’m useless to him.

This whole abduction is senseless to me. I don’t have much time to puzzle this thing out because that funky feeling starts creeping over me again. We must be getting close to our destination. When those damn pins and needles and then the paralysis hit, I’m so preoccupied, I can’t focus on my surroundings. After it leaves me, I find myself face-to-face with a man.

What is it about aliens, or non-hominids, as Sabin prefers for them to be called? Are they all perfect in their appearance? Other than the Shaurok, who are the creepiest fuckers ever, every one of them I’ve seen is the epitome of beauty. The man who stands before me, while not quite as tall as Sabin and his men, is the most gorgeous living being I’ve ever laid eyes on. Though he’s not old, he has silver hair that is so unusual, I want to reach out and glide my fingers through it, just to see if it’s real. His eyes are like nothing I’ve ever seen. Edged in the brightest turquoise, his irises are silver, the exact color of his hair. Symmetry doesn’t exist in humanity. Draw a line down anyone’s face and compare each half separately, and you will find vast differences. When I stare intently at this man’s, his face is perfectly symmetrical. The magnetism of it is so acute, my hand is on his cheek before I can help myself. But as soon as I touch him, he steps back as though my fingers burn him.

His scorching gaze overpowers me to the point I have to look away after a few seconds. Who is this man and what is he?

“You will answer all my questions as I ask them.”

His voice sends an intense surge of sexual need through me.

“What if I don’t?” My own voice trembles as I reply.

“There is no option.”

We’ll see about that.

“Yes, we will.”

“Are all you fuckers mind readers?”

“I don’t know about every fucker, but I am.”

The way he uses the word fucker, indicates to me he’s unfamiliar with the term. I almost want to smile. Almost.

“Sabin, your leader. What are his plans?”

“I don’t know.” It’s partly true. He’s only told me the basics.

“Liar. What are his plans? Tell me or it becomes … difficult for you.”

“What do you think his plans are? And why do you think I know?”

“You are his woman. If I knew, I wouldn’t ask you.”

“I’m no longer his woman.”

It’s always the eyes. They are the windows to the soul. His morph from silver edged in turquoise to solid turquoise. I’m hypnotized as I watch the turquoise seep into the silver, obliterating it. His voice deepens into a rich hum that echoes in my head until it brings me to my knees. It’s not painful, although it siphons my strength from me, leaving me weak and on my knees.

“Tell me what I wish to know.”

“He plans to return to the place of the Shaurok.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Where is Paradox?”

“I don’t know. I think they plan to move it though.”

“Where?”

“To Sabin’s house.”

“When?”

“When the vault and security are complete.”

“Very good.”

He blinks and the hold over me is broken. I face plant onto the floor. Hands lift me up, though I don’t know whose.

“What are you going to do with me?”

He smiles and I nearly melt at his feet. He wears no shoes and the thought strikes me then that I would kiss those feet if he’d ask me to. What the hell is wrong with me? Shaking my head, I slap the side of it.

“Your Sabin will come for you. I will kill him after he gives me Paradox.”

This makes me laugh. And laugh. My mind must have reached its maximum payload and must be cracking. The reality of what I face is bleak. Sabin can’t give up Paradox. That’s ludicrous. He knows that. The universe’s existence depends on that. If he does, we all die. If he doesn’t, I die. This is the ultimate no win scenario, exactly like the
Kobayashi Maru Starfleet
training test from
Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan.

The tiny spark of hope I held that Sabin and The Seven would burst in here, guns ablazin’, and save the damsel in distress has just dissipated like a puff of smoke.

“He’s not just going to hand it over to you.”

Silvery man, who’s never told me his name, does an odd thing with his head. He tilts it all around, as though he’s processing what I’ve told him.

“You think not?” he asks.

“I know he won’t.” I hold out my arms in front of him, side by side, signaling him to take me prisoner. “You may as well kill me now. I hold no meaning for Sabin now.”

“You lie.”

“He hasn’t spoken more than ten words to me in a week. Save yourself the trouble and kill me now.”

As I stand in front of him, he walks a circle around me. When he does, my sexual need for him expands. I have to cross my legs and clench them together because it’s damned uncomfortable. Why does he have this power over me?

He takes a handful of my hair and rubs it between his thumb and fingers. I suddenly have a glimpse, a brief image in my mind of Sabin doing the very same thing. I want to pull my hair out of his grasp, but I’m unable to. I’m in that crazy state of paralysis again, arms and legs numb and non-responsive to my commands.

“You think of him.”

“Of course I think of him,” I say through clenched teeth. “Let me go. Just kill me and get it over with.”

“What makes you think I’m going to kill you?”

Why the hell would he not want to kill me? It doesn’t make sense. “What else will you do with me?”

“Make you mine.”

Hell to the fucking no on that one, bro.
There’s no way I’d last. I’m already trying
not
to want this dude.

He runs a long finger down my arm, from shoulder to wrist. I shiver. It’s a terrible thing to react to someone, sexually, when you don’t want to. And I
really
don’t want to. My brain says one thing, but my body, another.

“You can’t resist, so do not try. It is impossible, Serena Callahan.”

“You know my name?”

“Yes. I know everything about you.”

“I would rather you killed me than make me yours.”

My statement has him doing that weird movement with his head again. Then he raises his hands and motions to someone. In all the time I’ve been here, I’ve forgotten about the Shaurok that brought me. They’re back, one on each side of me.

I decide to brave it and ask him a question. “Since you know my name, what is yours?”

His eyes shutter for a heartbeat, and then he lifts them to gaze into mine. They’re back to silver now and I nearly fall into their depths.
Get a damn grip, Serena! Pull yourself together!

“I am called Kor.”

His voice sends more shivers across my skin. But then I flush with heat. I would like nothing better than to wrap my hands in his hair and my arms around him and taste his lips. What is wrong with me?

“So now what happens?”