Chapter 24:
SOLUTIONS
The middle aged woman stands in her kitchen preparing
dinner. The air condition blast through vents, keeping her cool from the steam
boiling off the stove. Her small television yacks in the background as she
finely chops carrots against the wooden cutting board.
“Australian Woman, Georgia Lane claims she’d been attacked
by crocodile men…” the television blares, beginning the news story.
She brushes her eyes toward the TV shaking her head, “Crazy
people in this world.” Carrying the cutting board over to the boiling water she
pushes it in with the knife. Grabbing another carrot she walks back to the
counter.
The television rattles on, as she ignores the words, only
enjoying the background noise. “Where’s the onion?” she ask herself, searching
the refrigerator. “Ah.” She grabs the
red orb, taking it to the sink and running it under the water. The bright sun
peers through the trees into her backyard. She turns off the water shaking the droplets
off her hands and takes it to the cutting board. She glares back up at the television now
showing a rundown of the baseball scores, “Just show Devils Rays.” She pauses.
The television rambles and finally gives the score of Tampa Bay, she smirks,
“That’s my boys.” She dances over to the pot, now pushing the carrots and onion
into the bubbling water.
“Alligator meat, you’re next,” she opens the fridge pulling
out a perfectly wrapped aluminum foil package and shutting the fridge with her
rear end.
Walking past to the window toward the counter, she pauses,
taking a step backward and slowly turning her to the window. A bare alligator stands, pressing its u
shaped nostril against the window. The woman gasp, the foil meeting the linoleum
flooring.
Fog presses against the glass, its nostrils resting on it, parting
its pointed teeth. “Get back!” the woman shouts holding the knife in front of
her. The alligator walks to the back door, pulling on the knob. The woman screams
racing for the front door, she swings open the door, her knees deadlock…two alligators
standing in the front yard turn toward her…
*******
Bruinen wraps his fingers between Nawfar’s, petite hands,
squeezing lightly, the multitude of screens roaring in front of him. He has
never felt so vulnerable, watching his Planeteers friends across the screen.
They have never been on one planet all together, yet so far away. Earth’s
division makes him more unsettled in this moment, than he has felt for a long
time.
“We’ve had attacks now, in Florida. Not only sightings, but
actual attacks. One woman dead, two men injured. People are being evacuated
from the area.” Cromwell stands from his chair, tilting his head toward the
screen, sounding genuinely distressed. “What the hell is going on here?”
His eyes shift subtly onto Bruinen and Nawfar, as if they
know something more than what they are leading on.
Voices begin to speak on the screens from behind them, the
room now ignoring it as the fall into their own conversation. “Listen to Czar
Umberto and Herminia,” Bruinen suggest nodding toward the screen, “They know
the Surraja Planet, more than any of us.”
Cromwell turns his attention back at the screens, United
Nations listening intently as he has the attention of everyone now.
“It is possible that Sultana would have Poisonous Dart join
her, a diversion, she can then swiftly move her plans.” Umberto wonders.
“Would that not be risky for Dart, considering her brother
would surely try to take over their planet?” his counterpart, Herminia
questions rhetorically.
Umberto taking a brief moment to answer, confidently chimes,
“An attractive exchange she cannot resist…”
“How do we find this Poisonous Dart?” the English Queen
intercepts.
Rhian, from the Scylitan Planet shares her thoughts, “She’d
likely to be hidden a place with many reptiles. A small area. One easy to
control...”
Herminia continues her thought process, “An area she can
practice her magic, gathering her strength from the area reptiles. She uses
mind control effectively when given the proper resources.”
“Perhaps, in our country? The rain forest?” Marina Rocha suggests.
The United Nations intervene, after the idea is presented. “You
send armies to these areas? Search for this Poisonous Dart?” Seo-Jun Quon suggests.
“Brazil will make contact with all location immediately.”
Marina Rocha nods. “We will advise every civilian immediately to report
anything of suspicion.”
“I suggest we continue to work together of other possible
locations.” Andre’ Roux nods toward Father Onfre who sits quiet.
“Agree.” The United Nations and Planeteers nod in agreement
through the screens.
Cromwell walks toward Bruinen and Nawfar, “I’d like to know
directly, from you, any suggestions? Would
you approach anything differently?”
Bruinen thinks for a moment, sharing a glance with Nawfar
and scanning the room at the other Americans sitting around the table, keeping
their opinions to themselves.
“I’d like to contact Tsunami. She is a fast reader.
Extremely fast. I’d like her to research
our library and possibly an Earth one.” Bruinen decides.
Nawfar nods, “If anyone can figure out where Poisonous Dart
is hiding, with haste, I guarantee this woman will find the information
needed.”
“Okay, then. Mr. Watson, get Tsunami on the screen?”
Cromwell agrees.
*******
Margret leans into the winged creature, stroking the velvet
nape of his neck, its horn across her shoulder, pressing his head against her
arm. She pats the nape of his neck, resting her cheek on his muzzle briefly
before feeding him more lavender treats. “Why I’m so worried you will become a
regular horse, must be silly to you.”
Opal snorts, grasping the morsels with his tongue. Colm
gallops in behind them on Nacreous, hopping off as he nears Margret, grapping
her into his arms and kissing her. She lets out a tiny high pitched screech,
unexpected of his embrace.
Nacreous whinnies, nuzzling into Opal. “I told you not to
take her out. What if someone saw you?”
“Winged creatures are everywhere on their radar right now,
they aren’t going to shoot any of us down.” Colm smirks leaning in for another
kiss.
“It’s not just the government…” she sighs.
“Oh, yes! The Earthlings and flying horses, what are they do
think?” Colm taunts, “Nacreous needed to stretch her wings. Hasn’t Opal shown
such needs?”
“Not that he’s led on,” she kisses the steeds muzzle as his
head rises to her.
Colm shakes his head, walking her away, “He does it for you,
not himself.”
“What?” she doubts.
“Opal knows you can’t handle the stress. You should let him
ride free, us all together.” Colm suggest.
Margret stops, her head falling over her shoulder, observing
Opal nuzzling into Nacreous.
“He’s okay; I’m just making a suggestion.” Colm explains.
Margret continues to walk, “You weren’t making suggestions,
Colm. You are letting me know what I’m doing wrong.”
“I wouldn’t say wrong…” Colm tries to speak but she cuts him
off.
“No, it’s okay. You’re right. You told me all the unipegs on
Earth turned to horses and I can’t get that out of my head. Opal grabs a blade
of grass; I give him ten more spheres of Cepaen cuisine. I’m so confused. I
feel like my reality is obscured.” Margret’s eyes shift as she tries to
comprehend the amount of her emotional anguish she just unleashed on Colm, in a
few sentences. Embarrassed she continues, not making eye contact while he
strokes her hand in comfort, “This has all been a lot. And then the visions…
I’m afraid; I’m afraid that I’m afraid.”
‘We will get through
all this together, I’m here.’ His
thoughts try to lay a calming cloud on her mind.
“Don’t do that.” She sharply interrupts, “Don’t do the calming
mind thing. Not here. It makes me feel even crazier. It’s like Cepaen Prozac,
or something.”
Colm clutches her cheek in his hand, stroking her jaw with
his thumb, “We will get through this together. I’m here.” He repeats verbally,
his lips touching her forehead before his hand finds hers, walking forward. “Obviously
I do not have the human emotions you have, but it does not mean I do not
understand. We are intertwined, soulmates, I feel so much of what you feel.”
She pauses, turning toward him, “Colm, you feel nothing of
what I feel, and understand little…
when you cannot fully feel my pain.”
“I sense it. I know of it.” He tries to remind her.
“But you do not feel it.” She lets go of him turning away,
walking alone.
He processes her words for a moment, and then begins toward
her, stopped by Natika, “Colm, a moment? There is someone I’d love for you to
meet. A delightful individual.”
“I…uh…” Colm stutters, trying to makes sense of what just took
place between him and Margret, her body slinking away to a group of soldiers,
her rear finding a seat next to the crackling fire. “Yes, sure.” He nods,
Natika already having their arms interlocked, tugging him in her direction.
******
Margret coyly pears over her shoulder, searching for Colm.
“Margret,” The handsome solider addresses, taking the empty seat.
She snaps her head toward him, and forces a smile, “It is.
And you are…Oh, I’m sorry, I’m horrible with names.”
“Lucas.” He gently reminds her.
“Yes, Lucas.” She smiles. “Our tour guide of Metz. I didn’t
forget you, really, just names… I’m horrible…” she bashfully tries to explain.
“It’s okay,” he chuckles.
“It’s not, it’s really not. I need to take on one of those
tricks, to remember everyone. I’ve been introduced to so many people over the
last weeks my brain is finally like…” she points her finger, slowly drooping
it, adding a sizzling sound effect, “It doesn’t want to take on anymore.”
Lucas’ hand subtly hides his lips as to keep him from
bursting into laughter. Margret’s eyes observe her drooping finger; “That
appeared phallic, didn’t it?” she blushes shoving her hand under her leg.
“A gentleman wouldn’t comment on such a statement.” He
smirks, his dimple pressing against his cheek.
“Lucas.” She reminds herself. “Lucas, what brings you to the
fire?”
“Actually, I approached because you sat here. The beacon
against your skin.” His tone becomes even and smooth.
“Oh… I uh…” she stammers trying to find words.
He nervously snickers, “I apologize if I overstep. You are
with the man, from the Cepae Planet?”
“I...uh…” she struggles to answer at first, “Well, I am. I
guess. Yes.”
“Doesn’t sound completely convincing.” Lucas titters, “A
courtship that is perhaps questionable?”
“Not at all.” She quickly tries to correct, “He is just so
sure. I mean so sure. Like, SO SURE. And I, I… I don’t understand
how someone can be that sure. How do you know?
How can anyone, I don’t care what planet you are from, be that sure, when you barely know someone. Does
that even really happen?”
Her head shakes trying to understand as she ask the
questions out loud, suddenly realizing the flake she must be perceived to be to
the handsome Franco-German Brigade soldier.
“Sorry, ridiculous. I’m just thinking out loud.” She quickly spouts, apologizing for her
words.
“Oh, please, do not be apologetic,” he lightens the air,
“He’s from another planet, has different customs.” He simply smiles.
Her head flings behind her, finding him engaging in
conversation with a clingy Natika and another Franco-German solider, obviously
fawning over Natika’s beauty.
“Exactly.” She turns toward Lucas. “Nailed it.”
“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t familiar with women and
their different customs. Europe can be full of them.” He winks and her heart
involuntarily flutters.
Margret finds a giggle, “Lucas, can you imagine a world with
no jealousy? No anger? No resentment? Not one droplet of negative emotion to
blacken your soul?”
Lucas thinks for a moment, “A Utopia. A heaven. I can
imagine it, yet I can’t believe it would ever exist in life.”
Margret sighs, “You are walking among those who make it
exists.”
“The Cepaen?” Lucas’ eyes burrow in his head, him trying to
understand.
“Me, among them, it is like a black sheep among a perfect
flock of white, silken wool, sheep.” Her eyes unexpectedly cloud, “And they are
so perfect, not one of them acknowledges the skepticism, of what could happen,
with me around.”
“Perhaps, you are more perfect than you realize, and they
are not blinded, but you fail to see in yourself what others see in you.” Lucas
leans toward her.
“Precisely.” The even
voice says from behind them.
Margret’s rear end quickly lifts off the seat, standing
before Colm, “I uh…” she tries as if she is guilty.
Lucas stands behind her, “Lucas.” He extends his hand toward
Colm.
Colm, knowing the custom, without hesitation returns the
gesture, “Colm.” He smiles.
“Colm.” Lucas hangs on his name for a moment, “Colm, you are
a genuinely blessed man. I appreciate Margret’s company, thank you for sharing
her with me.”
“Her company is hers to share alone, but in the same, thank
you for recognizing our souls as mates, very galactic of you.” Colm beams gracefully.
Lucas cheeky glances at Margret whom shrugs, then continuing
with Colm, “My pleasure.” Lucas gives a slightly taunting bow and one last
humorous glance at Margret before walking away.
Margret shakes her head at Colm with disbelief, “Have you no
inkling of jealously?”
“Of what it is or the feeling of it?” he teases.
“The feeling.” She boasts.
“That I do.” He grins smug.
“Really?” dumbfounded, her voice hits an extra octave.
“Of course,” he agrees, “It’s that feeling you get when you
see Natika and I together, engaging.”
Her fist spontaneously hits against his chest as her head
falls flat against him, “Uh, you are annoyingly perfect.” She lifts her head, tilting it toward his
chin, “But you do know he is totally into me, right? Lucas is flirting with me.
He wants me.” She playfully pokes, “And
if it weren’t for you, I’d totally let him have me, you know that, right?”
Colm pulls her far enough away to gaze in her eyes. “Is this
banter supposed to make a man jealous?”
“It most certainly is.” She confirms.
“May, I take you and make sweet love to you instead?” his
hand wisp across her cheek, gently, softly crawling to the arch of her back,
trailing down her spine, “I’d like to kiss you, everywhere.”
Her eyes flutter from his touch, the chill slowly creeping
up her spine as his tips caress her skin, “In the tent. I don’t want to look
week among fellow soldiers.”
His lip folds upward, “I’d like to laugh at your assessment…”he
grasp her hand pulling her toward the tent, Margret trying to find eyes on
them, but finally only noticing one pair, Lucas’.
Colm closes the tent flaps behind them, her ears suddenly
between his palms as he presses his lips hard against hers, their tongues
intertwining, his soul grasping for hers - Margret’s mind quickly trying to
catch up with what is happening with their bodies. With their souls.
There.
Here.
Engaged.
Together, inside and out, now tearing at one other’s
clothes, desperate to join their naked bodies.
******
Tsunami grabs at the cell phone, it ringing across the room,
the facetime flashing across the screen. She tries to adjust her eyes, letting
her fingertip swipe the green button.
Bruinen and Nawfar come across the screen, looking as if two
parents, checking in on their child.
“Tsunami?” Nawfar ask, trying to make sense of her flattened
hair and smeared dressings.
“Huh?” Tsunami tries to focus.
“Where’s Kae?” Bruinen ask.
“Over here.” Kae moans from across the room.
****
Bruinen looks down at the phone, noticing Tsunami’s face
plastered against five other screens, “Can’t you shut those down?” he snaps.
“They’re connected,” Mr. Watson tries to explain.
“What is wrong with you?” Nawfar struggles to understand,
“Are you hurt?”
“My head is pounding.” Tsunami stresses, “Is it huge? It
feels huge.”
“The appearance is as always Tsunami. Do you need medical
attention? Are you and Kae in danger?” Nawfar concern, guesses.
“They look hung over, sir,” Mr. Watson tries to lean into
Cromwell, discreetly, but Bruinen sharply turns his head eyeing them.
“I don’t think so.” Tsunami groans, “It must be this Earth
air, having a strange effect on our health…”
“Ask, them if they had anything to drink last night, other
than water.” Cromwell embarrassingly request.
Bruinen pauses, annoyed.
Cromwell sighs, “Please just ask.”
“Have you had anything peculiar to drink?” Nawfar
intercepts, not waiting on Bruinen.
“Just some Earth drinks. The water and uh… the pink stuff
with all that floating Earth plant and some fancy garnish, maybe… perhaps.”
Tsunami tries to remember.
“It had frozen water in it too.” Kae chimes from across the room;
body sprawled out on a bed, “Frozen water, in a drink. In a pink drink. It
was…. Beautiful.”
“It really was.” Tsunami agrees trying to keep her eyes
open. “Tart but delicious.”
“What happened to them?” to Nawfar stands.
Cromwell’s eyes roll, “Please, Sovereign Nawfar, they
consumed alcohol. In small doses it is harmless and in tad larger doses, it can
cause what we call a hangover. An after effect of the alcohol on the body.”
Mr. Watson covers his mouth, pulling at his cheek trying not
to laugh, along with the other presidential advisories in the room.
“This is not a joke.” Bruinen angrily confirms.
“We take it serious.” Cromwell agrees, scolding his team
with his shifting eyes. “It is a… flaw that happens to the best of our people,
on Earth, sometimes. Almost any country, actually. There is nothing to be
embarrassed of or angry about it. It was merely a misunderstanding.” The president turns to his assistant, “Can
you assure they get their hands on a lot of Gatorade and perhaps some greasy
food.”
“Of, course, Mr. President,” Watson nods quickly leaving
with the room, breaking into a small laughter when he gets to the hallway.
“Give it about six hours; I can assure you they will be
okay. Until then,” Cromwell addresses the staff, “Let us get a hold of our top
scientist and researches. I want ongoing ideas thrown at me until my body is
bruised.”
Bruinen gazes at the phone in disappointment, “They will
have someone there to reintroduce you to your proper health and structure.”
“Okay.” Tsunami closes her eyes against the phone. “Sounds
great”
“Tsunami.” Nawfar snaps, causing the teenager to try and
focus, “I expect more. Read up on customs.” She hangs up the device, hitting it
against the table. “We need an outlet to relax.” She demands standing from the
table, already making her way toward the door.
Bruinen nods, gently pushing in his chair and waiting for
the President to join him.
“I will travel to Bahamas.”
Nawfar over hears and quickly rises, “Bruinen.” She gently
protests.
“You are perfectly capable of making the decisions here.
Tsunami and Kae are young and naive. They need direction.” Bruinen reminds her.
Nawfar sighs, “I want to disagree. I cannot.”
Bruinen toward Cromwell, “It is decided then. Nawfar will
make the choices needed, here. I will join Tsunami and Kae until they prove
things differently.”
Cromwell nods, “Okay then.” He turns toward another man in
the room, “Arrange this please.”
“Yes, Mr. President.” The man agrees.
Bruinen turns to Nawfar, “We will still continue strong
communication.”
“As always.” She agrees. “I will walk along side of you
soon.”
“Until then.” He kisses her small forehead before heading
out.
“Nawfar, would you like to join me in meeting with a few of
our top researches?” Cromwell urges.
She subtly nods, “Yes, I would.”
*******
Raging fire screams over bodies as
chaos unceasing to fold. Gun fire ricochets, one bullet grazing past Margret’s
arm, ripping at her flesh, she winces in pain, pausing her to catch a glimpse
of Zulima, a fanged man flinging himself toward the space Zulima occupies.
“Zulima!” Margret screams out.
Seconds too late, Zulima is tackled
by the creature….
******
“Margret. Margret.”
Her name pulls her from the war,
slowly to conscience now filling the images with empty darkness, light now
pressing against her eyelids…
“Margret.” It’s Colm’s soft whisper
against her ear, his hand gently tugging on her arm to wake.
She flings her eyes open and
quickly sits up, relief that her surroundings are of the inside of the mundane
tent they reside in.
“Somethings going on outside.” He
immediately informs her, already dressed. He shoves her clothes into her arms,
“Get dressed. We need to explore this matter.”
She nods, mundanely, snugging her
body into her tank and leggings, still recovering from the dream she was left
with.
She slides on her boots and
searches for Colm, standing by door of the tent he waits patiently for her,
extending his hand towards her, she grasp it and he pulls her out into the
fresh air.
Soldiers of the Franco-German
Brigade and Cepaen Planet surround one area. The rest of the camp is vacant,
the crowd is hard to see over, and a few of the Cepae warriors flap slightly
above in the air, to get a better view. “What is it?” Margret leans into Colm.
He gives her the obvious answer, just
arriving with her, “I have no idea.”
“Do you see Zulima?” her tiptoes
slightly rise, her neck extending.
“I don’t.” Colm begins pulling her
back as the crowd backs away, in order of Commander DuPont, asking everyone to step
back.
“I understand, we are curious,” he
shouts in a powerful and commanding tone, “We have some choices to make. I will
be willing to hear rational thoughts when the time comes, but as your
commanding officer, along with Zulima and Zagzagel, we need the space and
respect to find the best solution amongst one another.”
Margret observes as soldiers from
both sides nod their heads in agreement and understanding, leaving a gap wide
enough for Margret to now catch a glimpse of Commander DuPont, Zulima and Zagzagel
standing above a woman’s body, it curled into a fetal position.
Margret spots Lucas through the
crowd and tugs on Colm, ‘Follow me’
without hesitation he allows Margret to guide them toward Lucas. “Hey.” She
approaches.
Lucas’ head swings towards her and
he gives a wispy smile, ignoring Colm on her hand, “Hello beautiful, half
breed.” He winks.
Pretending to not notice his
flirtation, “What is going on? Who is that woman?”
He leans into her ear, “It’s a
vampire.”
Margret tilts her head concerning
at Colm, “A vampire?” she slightly gasp with a whisper.
Lucas, hearing her, turns, noticing
she is speaking with Colm. “Oh, hello, fellow.” He smirks.
“Where is my Margret?” she hears
Zulima’s soft voice struggling to echo through the crowd.
“I think she’s calling you.” Lucas
gently pats Margret’s shoulder.
“Zulima, needs you.” Colm tugs at
Margret’s hand almost simultaneously.
Colm tries to pull Margret pass the
mob while Commander DuPont backs up Zulima with a louder announcement, “Please
let Zulima’s Margret past!”
Slowly the crowd becomes more aware
of their passing, allowing an easier access for them to get through. Zulima
lays eyes on her, almost with a sigh of relief, pulling her from Colm’s grasp
and hugging her. “Where have you been?” she questions, as if she were meant to
be by her side all along.
“It’s one of Sultana’s vampires,”
Zulima states nodding toward the woman, Margret now has the chance to observe
every detail on her.
The woman looks starved, her long
red hair drapes over her bony cheek bones, body thin, knees pulled tightly into
her chest. “Is she dead?” Margret asks.
Zulima’s shakes her head.
“She is not,” Zagzagel chimes in.
“Should we try to heal her?” Zulima
questions as if Margret knows the answer.
“I….” Margret stumbles on her
words, awkwardly dragging her eyes across the crowd whom wait for an answer.
“We have a few ways of approaching
this situation.” DuPont chimes in, “We kill it, and give it a quick death or We
let it hang on to what life is left, and if it wakes we try to get information
from it.”
“Or we heal her,” Zulima adds
catching Colm’s glimpse.
“If she is well she can lead us to
Sultana’s choice of residence. Ending all this quickly.” Zagzagel finishes.
“Or it has its strength back and
decides to blood suck us all to death.” Commander DuPont gives the final detail
is a slight humorous undertone.
“I….a….” Margret’s lips tighten as
the bottom lip quickly hides behind her tooth.
She takes a deep breath, meeting Colm’s chiseled face. ‘Why are they asking me?’
‘Your
gift,’ he reminds her.
She shrugs her shoulders with
frustration and turns to Zulima, “I don’t think I should be making this
decision.” She tries to whispers.
“What do you feel?” Zulima ask her.
“What do you sense?”
“I sense that I am not God and no
life, vampire or anything else, should be a choice of mine, if they live or
die.” Margret searches for Colm’s hand for comfort.
“With all due, respect, Margret,
this is a war. These tough decisions have to be made every day on the battle
front. I suggest you best prepare yourself for the worse case scenarios. All of
you!” he addresses the murmuring crowd for moment, “Now, Zulima says you have
some gift of insight. If you do not have this insight then we need to move
forward in our decisions.”
Commander DuPont meets Zagzagel,
“Warrior to warrior, respectfully, I feel we should destroy it. If it gets the
strength to feed, it is a danger to us all. It might be week during the day and
gain strength at night. Take out a great part of our camp and us. We may never
have the chance to meet up with the others before the battle really begins.”
Zulima stands between the two men,
“Perhaps, we should wait to see what the United Nations and Planeteers leaders,
decide. We can give them before night fall.”
Margret’s head starts to spin,
their words now echoing between her ears, becoming fainter, another voice deep
in her mind grows louder.
“Stop!” Margret shouts.
The crowd silences and Margret’s
eyes begin to focus, feeling uncomfortable with the stares. Her eyes meet
Zulima, the commander and Zagzagel, her hand tightens against Colm’s palm. “We
don’t have until night. She will die by then.”
“She spoke to you?” Zulima
hesitantly wonders, mystified and almost horrified at the same time.
“I ugh…” Margret searches for the
correct answer.
‘She
is of darkness, Margret. Can you tap into darkness too?’ Colm’s thoughts
press against hers.
Margret pulls her hand from Colm’s,
covering her eyes with her palms, allowing her fingers to pull the eyelids to
her temples, trying to refocus. “I don’t know if she spoke to me. But I feel I
know that if we don’t save her now, she’s not living until tonight. And I feel we should really save her now, if
you are capable of saving a creature of darkness.” She chooses her words
carefully, grabbing a deep breath of air, anxiously awaiting Zulima’s answer.
“We heal her then.” Zulima answers
with an ounce of hesitation.
“We are going to heal this vampire,
based on a feeling?” The commander questions.
“Yes.” Zulima nods, now with more
certainty.
Commander DuPont touches eyes with
Zagzagel who gives a reassuring nod. “Let us be prepared then.” He gives his
approval. DuPont turns, searching the
crowd, “Deputy Boyer!” he calls out to a man.
“General.” Lucas Boyer reports to
the front.
“Arm our men appropriately. Prepare
for the kill if needed.” He instructs.
“Yes, sir.” Lucas nods. “You heard
him,” he now shouts to the other men, leading them away.
Zagzagel finds Harahel and with a
slight hand gesture all the winged forces are armed with swords and bow and
arrows, as if magically appearing in their hands.
DuPont smirks toward Zagzagel,
“You’d perhaps humor me and the rest of the united nations with your light
weight traveling weapons.”
Zagzagel, grunts with a twisted
grin, “That’s a Planeteers matter.”
“I envy the weaponry. You will at
least find humor in training me with it?” DuPont inquires.
“Considering we both walk away from
this battle. Yes.” Zagzagel banters.
Commander DuPont’s men return,
Lucas leading them, in hand with long wooden steaks, some holding fire. Margret
tried not to smirk; it felt like she had suddenly walked into a very confused
1800’s vampire saga. Lucas finds her eyes flashing a wink, causing Margret to
blush.
Zulima nods toward the commander,
leaning down to the woman, prying the vampire’s arms away from her knees,
gently allowing her head to rest against the dirt. Her strawberry locks fall into
the dust, her lips parted, revealing the razor sharp incisors hanging from her
mouth.
Zulima takes a deep breath and rest
her hands on the woman’s chest.
‘Zulima.
If the vampire wakes, Zulima will be her first target…’ Margret suddenly
begins to panic.
‘Zagzagel
will protect her. He’s prepared.” Colm’s soft voice presses calmness in her
mind, easing her nerves, his thumb caressing the back of her hand.
Everyone watches eagerly and
anxiously as Zulima’s hands glow a faint blue hue, pushing strength into the
limp body.
Seconds.
Then, Zulima’s head tilts,
“Somethings, wrong…” Zulima tries to gasp, “Help…” her white sockets find Colm,
“You must…” her voice begins to become week, glazes of concern emerge over
faces as Colm rushes to Zulima’s side, placing his hand on the vampire, his
hands now glowing among Zulima’s.
Silence erupts at the camp. Anticipation
falls heavy against Margret’s heart, barely feeling the beat against her chest.
The ginger haired woman suddenly
gasps a breath causing everyone to become tense, holding their weapons tightly
in front of them. Zulima falls against Colm, and Margret rushes down to them,
grasping on Zulima, staring at the woman as she struggles to gain clear
consciousness.
She pulls herself into a sitting
position, her green eyes flapping open, “Thirsty.” The struggles. “Thirsty.”
A sort of panic ensues, glances
exchanged amongst each other.
“Water. I need water.” The woman grabs
at her throat.
Lucas throws down his weapon
quickly grabbing a canteen of water and shoving it into the woman’s hands. She
chugs at it, pouring down her chin as her mouth can’t gulp fast enough. She
wipes her lips, blinking her eyes again at the scene in front of her.
Whispers begin, as confusion brews,
Margret suddenly realizing, “Zulima and Colm’s healing powers, they didn’t just
heal her they must have healed her.”
Theories grow louder through the
crowd, weapons now being lowered, the woman trying to make sense of it herself.
“What is your name, girl?”
Commander DuPont asks.
“Dominious.” She softly answers.
“With your agreement, Zagzagel, I’d
like to announce Dominious as a prisoner among this camp.” His eyes meet Lucas’
“Get her taken care of, she needs food and more water. See she is fully
guarded.”
“Yes, sir,” Lucas answers
commanding some of the men to move forward.
********
