Alien's Concubine, The (20 page)

A simple meal, she decided once she’d
reached the supermarket. Anka was the one trying to master superior
cuisine. She was barely competent in the kitchen. And, anyway, he
liked steak.

Remembering that she didn’t have
potatoes or salad at home as she neared checkout, she altered
course and headed for the produce section. When she’d chosen the
potatoes and a bag of mixed salad greens, she turned toward
checkout again, but the flowers near the edge of the produce
section caught her attention. Ordinarily, although she loved
flowers, she barely gave them a glance, but it was a special night
and that should include flowers. Unable to make up her mind, she
grabbed a bundle of roses and a bouquet of mixed
flowers.

She studied them as she waited her
turn in checkout, still trying to decide which she should take home
with her.

Good food—great sex. Roses. A smile
curled her lips as she considered the effect of rose
petals.

She decided to get both. If she was in
luck, Anka wouldn’t be in the apartment when she got there and she
would have the chance to set the stage for seduction. As often as
not, these days, he was off somewhere doing something when she got
home and came in later.

If he was there, she’d just tell him
it was an urban ritual and make him wait in the living room while
she beheaded the roses and strew rose petals everywhere.

Having settled the matter in her mind,
she carefully placed both flower bundles in her buggy and began to
mentally sort through her lingerie drawer to decide what to
wear.

The sense of being watched finally
penetrated her preoccupation as she reached the conveyor belt, and
she looked up and around the store as she felt the prickle of
uneasiness. Several people met her gaze as she glanced around, but
she couldn’t see that that was anything more than their reaction to
her looking at them.

Shaking the sensation off, she
unloaded her buggy, paid for her purchases and headed for her car.
The prickle washed over her again as she loaded the groceries in
the car, but again, when she looked around, she didn’t see
anyone.

She locked her car doors when she got
inside, fiddling with her keys and glancing around as idly as she
could manage, but she still didn’t catch sight of anyone who seemed
particularly interested in her.

It didn’t matter, she told herself
firmly. Even if there was anything to it beyond pure imagination,
she was in the car. The doors were locked.

Maybe somebody had been eyeing the
expensive items she’d put in her cart and thinking about snatching
her purse, but they’d play hell chasing her down in the car to
snatch it.

She decided on the way home to make a
quick detour to the mall to grab a sexy nightie from her favorite
lingerie shop. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t have considered leaving
groceries in the car for such a thing, but she hadn’t thought about
getting something seductive before, and she figured it wouldn’t
hurt to leave them such a short time. Getting out once she’d parked
the car as close as she could, she locked the doors and dashed into
the mall. The selection was better than she’d expected, making it
harder to decide, but she finally eliminated the problem by buying
all three of the slinky undie outfits she liked best.

She had her mind on the money she’d
just frivolously dropped at the mall when she reached the
apartment. Gathering up all the bags, she headed inside with them,
her arms loaded and visibility impeded by the bags. At her door,
she juggled the bags, her purse, and the keys, and finally managed
to get the door unlocked.

Someone slammed into her as she pushed
the door open. The blow sent her flying forward and bags in every
direction. She hit the floor so hard she skidded several feet
before she stopped moving. More stunned than hurt, it took her
several moments to get her bearings, critical moments. Before she
could gather herself to rise, someone grabbed a handful of hair at
her scalp and wrenched her head upwards and around so sharply she
felt a bone pop in her spine.

She stared blankly at the dark,
twisted visage so close to her own. A flicker of recognition went
through her.

“
Putta!” the man snarled,
using her hair to drag her to her feet. “Where’s the
stuff?”

Gaby gaped at him, struggling against
shock and pain to figure out what it was he was demanding. “What
stuff?”

She didn’t see the fist coming. He
punched her so hard in the jaw it wrenched her head sideways and
darkness enveloped her. Either he let go of her hair as he swung at
her, or the force of the blow separated the hair from her scalp.
She flew away from the punch, sprawling on the floor again. He
followed her. Standing over her, he leaned down and punched her in
the face several more times despite her ineffectual efforts to
cover her head with her arms.

“
Where’s your stash,
bitch?”

She curled into a ball when he stopped
hitting her. Uttering a growl of fury and frustration, he commenced
to kicking her, slamming his booted feet into her ribs and belly
and back until she threw up. She couldn’t breathe. Her mind was
totally wrapped up in the struggle to drag a breath of air into her
lungs.

She wasn’t even aware, at first, when
he stopped pounding on her. The pain and the fight to gasp in a
little air consumed her. She choked when she finally managed to
draw breath, coughing. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth
and she spat, wondering if she’d coughed up the blood or if her
teeth had cut the inside of her mouth when he’d been punching her
in the face.

He was insane, she thought
wildly.

That thought clicked with the vague
sense of recognition she’d had before.

It was the Hispanic man Anka had taken
over that first time, she realized.

It took a tremendous effort to lift
her head. She saw when she’d managed it that the man was taking the
apartment apart—searching for something. Stuff? Stash?

He thought she had drugs, she
realized.

Why would he think that, she wondered,
completely bewildered?

She shook that thought off. He was
preoccupied. It might be the only chance she had of escape. Even
the fear was dulled by her shock, though, and it failed to lend her
much strength.

She focused on the view she saw when
she lifted her head, the open door of her bedroom—bedroom, door,
lock, phone, police. The pain increased tenfold as she struggled to
drag herself toward the door. Her progress was measured by
inches.

Hurry! Hurry! She thought, unable to
form anything but disjointed words in her mind, unable to complete
more than the most simple, basic thoughts. Her head felt as if it
would explode. Blood cloyed in her throat, choking her, making it
almost impossible to drag in a breath without feeling as if she was
drowning.

The man was muttering to himself in
Spanish, cursing. Having emptied every drawer and shelf onto the
floor, he grabbed the cushions off the sofa and chairs and began
shredding them with a knife. The glimpse Gaby caught of the knife
was enough to galvanize her when she’d reached the point of giving
up. Gathering herself, she struggled to fend off the darkness
threatening to overcome her and pushed herself a little further
along the floor.

She’d almost reached the bedroom door
when she heard him coming for her. She screamed when he jerked her
off the floor and pitched her head first through the doorway of her
bedroom. It wasn’t much of a scream. She couldn’t draw enough
breath to produce much in the way of sound, and it was cut off
abruptly when she hit the edge of the bed and rebounded onto the
floor.

She curled up again, expecting him to
begin pounding on her. Instead, he began to systematically tear the
bedroom apart as he had the living room.

He would be back, she realized dimly,
trying to focus her mind on survival.

The bathroom was the only possibility
of sanctuary left.

Uncurling, she began trying to crawl
toward the door.

He saw her. Apparently, he decided
that must be where she’d hidden the ‘stash’ he was looking for. He
ran at her, drawing his leg back and kicking her as hard as he
could, as if he was trying to field goal her body. She grunted at
the impact, began to whimper at the pain that made her feel as if
her whole body was on fire.

The search of the bathroom didn’t last
long. He was back in a moment. Dropping to his knees, he rolled her
onto her back and straddled her. Leaning over her, he pressed the
knife he still held against her throat. “Where’s the stuff, you
fucking cunt?”

Gaby peered at him beneath her lashes.
“No drugs,” she managed.

He bore down on the knife until she
felt the burn. “Don’t lie to me, bitch! The shit you gave me last
time I was here! Where is it?”

It coalesced in her mind. The
‘experience’ he’d had when Anka had seized control of his body had
been a ‘high’ for him. He thought he’d had some kind of drug
induced ‘trip’—and he’d liked it. He wanted another
high.

The thoughts focused her mind on Anka
for the first time since he’d attacked her.

“
Anka!” she whispered.
“Anka, come to me! Please, Anka! I need you!”

A look of confusion crossed the man’s
features for a split second before rage replaced it. “I’ll gut you
like a fish, you stupid bi ….”

Something slammed into him, sending
him flying backwards.

Dizziness swept over Gaby as she felt
herself being lifted from the floor, enveloped in a warm, gentle
embrace. It took an effort to lift her head, but relief surged
through her as she looked up into Anka’s eyes. “Anka,” she
whispered, feeling gladness warm her.

Before she could say more, she felt
fire spear through her. Shocked at the pain, she glanced down at
the center of it as the Hispanic man withdrew the blade from her
belly.

Anka glanced down, as well,
consternation contorting his features for a split second before
fury replaced it.

Darkness began to descend over Gaby
and with it a profound coldness. She felt herself drifting downward
like a feather floating on a whimsical breath of air. Dimly, as if
from a great distance, she heard the man scream, heard a gurgling
noise, the sickening crunch of bones shattering, and then
silence.

She lifted toward awareness as she
felt the gentle touch of a hand. It took an effort to open her
eyes. “Gone?” she managed to ask through stiff, uncooperative
lips.

“
Shhh, Moonflower,” Anka
crooned. “I will take away the hurt.”

She nodded, or thought she did.
“Doesn’t hurt now. Cold,” she complained.

She thought she heard him swallow,
then she felt his hands moving over her. Warmth began to displace
the cold, slowly at first, and then more rapidly until she felt as
if she was on fire. She moaned as the pain erupted again, became
more intense.

Abruptly it ceased and she felt a
sense of floating.

Anka, she discovered with a touch of
surprise, was with her, a part of her. She could feel him as she’d
never felt him before.

Am I dead? She wondered, not
distressed by it particularly, merely curious … almost pleased as
it occurred to her that now she was spirit as Anka was. And they
were together.

No, my treasure.

I don’t understand.

I know, beloved. Be at peace. I am
here now. I would that I could have prevented anything like this
from ever touching you. I cannot change that it did, but I can and
will take away all that is ugly and hurtful.

A sense of profound peace settled over
her. And then there was nothingness.

Chapter Eleven

Gaby woke feeling like death warmed
over. She lay staring at the darkened ceiling of her bedroom for a
while, searching her mind for the reason she felt so badly, but no
answer came to her. Finally, after glancing over at Anka’s sleeping
form several times, she rolled out of the bed quietly and headed
for the bathroom.

She felt—achy all over, as if she was
coming down with a fever, or maybe had had a fever, but she
couldn’t tell that she was the least bit over warm or detect any
other symptoms that spelled the onset of a cold or flu and she
certainly couldn’t remember having been sick.

She didn’t look sick, she decided
after she’d examined her reflection in the mirror, just heavy eyed
from sleeplessness.

When she’d used the bathroom, she took
a bottle of aspirin from the cabinet and tapped a dose out into her
palm, then headed into the kitchen to find something to wash the
tablets down.

Something seemed ‘off’. She couldn’t
put her finger on what it was, but something just didn’t feel quite
as it should. Puzzled, she wandered around the darkened apartment,
but she was no wiser when she’d checked everything.

She couldn’t remember going to bed,
she realized.

After probing her memory for several
moments, she finally produced the memory that she’d planned a
surprise for Anka to celebrate their time together. Oddly enough,
she couldn’t remember actually doing anything, though.