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“ENOUGH!”
The scythkin — I really have to get his name — suddenly has them both in a big, shining hand. He grips Emrys by the back of the neck like a disobedient kitten, while his other hand is wrapped around the gauntlet of the barbarian. Neither one of them is able to move while he has them.
“Unhand me, insect!”
Of course it’s Emrys who says something that fucking stupid to an alien who is entirely capable of popping a blade out of any particular piece of his anatomy and turning the vampire into cold, unappealing kebabs. I do admire the nerve, though. Emrys has the vibe of a villain who is accustomed to being the master of his domain. It must be humiliating for him to be stopped by a scythkin. Good. I hope he hates it. I hope it causes a deep sense of shame that sinks into his bones and he thinks about it at random times of day for years to come.
“Now, now, boys. I reckon we need to talk. See, I have my doubts we all want this little lady for the same purposes. If we share what our needs are, we might find she’s more than enough to go around,” Sheriff says.
“I don’t owe any of you an explanation,” Emrys hisses.
“Then we don’t owe you any consideration,” Sheriff replies.
“I need a mate for the valker homecoming,” Emrys confesses. “I do not wish to bring a female of my own kind. She would lay claim to my lands and to my progeny. A human mate will satisfy the requirements of the homecoming while remaining property, owned and controlled.”
“You’re such a charmer, I can’t believe a female vamp hasn’t seduced you already,” I mutter under my breath.
“I require a mate to tend my hearth and bear my young,” Kronos says.
“And I need to hang her,” Sheriff says. “But we can do that last.”
Well, damn. I knew he was cruel, but that’s a certain kind of ancient cruelty.
“Hang me?”
He looks me square in the eye. “Financial crimes are capital crimes. You know that.”
Sheriff is almost human. So fucking close you could swear he has remnants of Neanderthal DNA. But he’s not human at all. He’s one of the species humans most fear — somehow we’re not nearly as afraid of scythkins as we are of these guys. He’s a numahn, a craggy, rough, man-like alien with a craggy, rough heart.
Numahns are what humans wish they were. Taller, smarter, stronger, more ruthless. Sheriff is a prime example of a numahn. He stands about eight feet tall, and he’s faster with his weapon than any man could be. He’s chased me across countless star systems on account of the crimes I’ve committed. I really thought he would have lost interest by now, but numahns are notoriously merciless to humans. They consider us not only lesser, but quite undeserving of life. We are like a stage of evolution they skipped entirely. I’ve made a lot of money scamming numahns who think a stupid human could never outsmart them.
“Anybody object to the fact he wants to kill me? No?” I look around the assembled aliens. I’m looking for an ally, either the scythkin or the barbarian. The scythkin won’t allow harm to come to a human in his care — I think. And the barbarian seems honorable.
“I wouldn’t mind killing you,” Emrys says. “You have proved to be an irritant from the outset. Not worth the money I paid for you.”
“Maybe someone will buy your share.”
“I’m not attempting this ridiculous process again. You will come to my world and you will make an impression as my mate. You will perform the task I purchased you to perform, and when you are done, I will be glad to know that you have been dispatched with.”
“I dislike you,” I say.
“The feeling is mutual,” he replies.
I glance back at Raz again. He is letting this play out, and I have to wonder if there’s a reason why. Probably because his strength is stealth, and there’s no way to stealth our way out of this. Yet.
Kronos is not looking happy. It is hard to say how the scythkin is looking, because his main expression is bristling with very sharp blades. It was easier to read him when he was wearing his human suit, but I guess he doesn’t have a lot of spares of those.
Just as it seems my fate is to be bullied and then executed, the scythkin reaches for me, swings me up over his shoulder and starts carrying me off. I am fortunate that his body, which bristles with blades at almost every location and juncture, seems to easily retract those blades where I am pressed over the hard plating that covers his flesh.
“I am taking my mate,” he declares. “I will not share.”
3 MIND PRISON
“Stop, or I’ll shoot you dead, scythkin.” Sheriff calls out. “This time it won’t be a warning. I’ll shoot to kill.”
“Shoot me dead, and you will bring the wrath of my brood down on your world,” the scythkin replies without so much as skipping a beat.
That shuts Sheriff up. That seems to quell most of the other aliens’ objections to the scythkin’s behavior, actually. There is not an alien present who dares cross this creature, including me. I don’t fight. I don’t squirm. I don’t even wriggle a little. I let myself be abducted by the big, terrible, terrifying creature with the human obsession.
