Exiled (5 page)

Venus heard him shout.
Michael
. But ignored him.
He might be a challenge
. . . Nah. He was human after all. It’d still be easy. He only had to fall in love, for cret’s sake. And love was an uncomplicated, silly emotion. Right?

Zaren had moved on ahead of her. She guessed he was frustrated. Venus used the opportunity to admire his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The confident way he walked. Proud, yet calm. Collected. Until he whipped around, apparently done with his momentary skulking, and came back, towards her.

With a grin, he lifted her into his arms.

“Seriously,” she ranted.

He ignored her and ran.

Fast.

But he was more than running. Her people called this method of travelling: Britorent—to bend time. All Zaren or any kelvieri had to do was move and think of the destination. Then, as though time were an accordion, the fabric of space between where they began and where they wanted to go would fold together. The amount of time it took to get from one place to another depended on the planet and the parameters within that planet.

On Earth, Zaren could move four miles in one second.

Venus had experienced the sensation once before. When she was seven, she’d opened a door within the family castle and discovered a child—dead. The first thing she’d noticed was a substance dripping like rain from the ceiling. The room had been dark. When she felt something sticky wet hit her head and then the back of her hand, she’d commanded the lights to turn on. Blood had been everywhere. In the center of the room, she’d seen the girl, curly white hair spread out around her as though she rested on fluffy cotton. Venus ran to the girl and screamed. She’d kept screaming until her father came. He’d lifted her into his arms and used britorent to take her to their shaman . . .

She shook her head, trying to get rid of the memory.

Wind rushed through her hair and pushed against her body. She leaned her head on her Formytian’s shoulder and watched the barrage of colors, like a Monet painting, swirl around her.

When Zaren set Venus down, she had to lean over to catch her breath. Within a few moments, the dizziness evaporated. She stood and peered into the window of a little clothing shop.

The store was called Casual Treasures. It sat near the end of a long strip of stores in between two food businesses. One was a cupcake bakery with the name, SweetCakes, and on the other, a Subway. The sugary aroma and the smell of freshly baked bread hit Venus from both sides. Her stomach growled.

She’d read about different kinds of cupcakes—Bavarian cream, banana, chocolate-chocolate. Each had looked more delicious than the first. Her mouth watered.
Maybe I’ll try one of each.

Zaren watched her, his arms crossed. He appeared to be worried. She had a feeling she knew why. Michael. He’d known the boy was there, at the stream.

“You knew. That’s why you didn’t hurry to catch up to me. You knew I’d run into the human.” Venus really wanted to be angry with him for not telling her . . . Her natural reaction, to ream him, but she didn’t.

“Yes, I knew. I’d hoped a friendship would form. Hadn’t planned on him being so vile.” He grasped her hand and pulled her into the store.

She almost didn’t have time to hold her breath.

Zaren stopped immediately inside the shop.

Venus was glad. Her eyes needed to adjust to the change in light. With a quick scan of the area, she slowly released the air in her lungs. Zaren made a noise, like he was choking.

“What?”

“You know that doesn’t help. Whatever awaits you on the other side of the door will be there whether you—”

“Stop!” She looked away, concentrating on a spot on the floor.

He took her hand and said through a smile, “Hey, I’m sorry. Holding your breath might help.”

“Don’t patronize me, Formytian. It’s my prerogative to do as I please.” She knew he wasn’t patronizing her—that he wanted to help—but any mention of her stupid need to hold her breath only embarrassed her.

His eyes turned sad. “Yes, Princess.”

Zaren knew everything about her, including her superstitious quirks. She wished she could stop. But not knowing what might be on the other side? The last time she’d walked into a room, without holding her breath, there’d been a murdered child—her friend.

“Come on. Let’s shop.”

A female clerk stood near what Venus knew to be a cash register. When Zaren put a hand on the counter, the girl looked up.

“Whoa, looks like she could use some clothes, pronto. Sheesh.”

Venus glanced down. Yeah, the unisa and her boots wouldn’t do.

Zaren rescued her. “Sometimes it isn’t good to party so hard. I tried to tell her.” He winked at the girl and let out a laugh.

The beautiful clerk shook her head. Giggled. “Serious?” Dark hair and icy blue eyes danced as she laughed. When she came around the counter, Venus noticed they were the same height, though she had more on top.

“Nice boots.”

“Thank you.” Venus slugged Zaren in the arm and shrugged. “Trust me; I won’t party that hard again.”

The girl looked like a model for the store, with a tight red t-shirt, the number 94 painted in white across the front, high-heeled, black shoes and dark jeans. They were similar to the jeans on the rack. All sorts of sparkling jewels covered the pockets.

“Of course not. What size are you? You look,” she paused to give Venus a thorough once over before continuing, “petite.”

Venus only ever had her clothing made by those at the palace. The seamstresses would measure her. Then make her clothes. Sometimes they used magic or special thread, but never told her a specific size. Would this seem inhuman? A glance in Zaren’s direction revealed he was checking out clothes in the men’s section. “I’m not sure,” Venus finally admitted.

“No problem. I’ll get a couple of different sizes in the same jean and we’ll go from there. Okay?” Before waiting for Venus to reply, the girl pulled two jewel-encrusted pants off a rack. In another section of the store, she removed a long-sleeved white t-shirt. After that, she went to the jackets, grabbed one in black leather, with buckles and more jewels and studded things all over it.

Venus moved toward a disorganized rack and began rearranging the pants so they were in order by size, the smallest in the front and the largest in the back.
No way will I be leaving the store with that jacket or those jeans.
I’ll try them on, at least, to figure out my size
. She stepped to the next section and worked.

“Wanna job?” the clerk asked with a light giggle.

“No, sorry. I have a thing for organization.” Venus ran a hand through her muddy hair and pulled it to one side.

“All righty then. Well, follow me.” She moved past Venus and made her way to the back of the store. Venus couldn’t help a sigh. When they reached one of a line of maple-colored doors, the girl unlocked it with a key attached to a bracelet packed full of keys. Venus had to wonder how she could tell which one to choose. The door swung open with a squeak.

“Cheese, that sound is awful.” The girl stepped inside the little room and hung the clothes on a hook. “Try these on and let me know what you think. I’m Cheverly, by the way.” Cheverly moved past Venus and directed her in with the wave of a hand.

“Venus,” she returned. Apprehensively, she glanced at the threshold and sucked in.

Here we go.
She shut the door
.

“A goddess of love.”

“That’s right.”

“Great name.”

“That’s debatable, but thanks.” Venus leaned back and shut her eyes. The time had come to see what she looked like.
What if I look worse than I did before? It isn’t vanity,
she told herself.
I want
. . .

“Oh, open your eyes fraidy cat,” Venus whispered.
Three. Two. One.
She popped them open.

The first thing she noticed was the tangled grubby mess in the ends of her hair. Though it still looked better than all white, she decided to get it out of the way. One thing she’d had been taught as a small kelni, even before she could walk, was how to wrap her hair in a bun and make it stay. Bending over, she pulled all her hair together and twisted it tight. Then she continued to twirl the dirty strands until it’d formed its own bun. Venus tucked the ends under. Standing, she checked her reflection. “Better.”

With her hair out of the way, she easily noticed her eyes. Different. Pretty. She tried to think of a human word to describe the shade of blue. The word cyan came to mind. Brown lashes surrounded her eyes instead of the frosty white she’d grown sick of. Her face shone a faint peach and her lips, once a misty silver, were now stained the shade of rubies. For many kelarians, her new coloring might be considered bland. Venus had to smile at the changes. She liked them. “No silver anywhere.” In the mirror, her reflection revealed stark, white teeth.

“Everything all right in there?” Cheverly asked.

“I’ll be another minute.” She put the white shirt on. It fit fine. The second pair of jeans fit and the jacket fit okay, too.

When she opened the door, Cheverly took one look and shook her head. “Yeah, that jacket really isn’t you, is it?”

“No,” Venus admitted and slipped it off. “Also, do you have any jeans without the jewels on the pockets?”

“Cheese on crackers, you’re right. With those stunning boots, you don’t need all the bling on your behind. Plus, skinny jeans will work great tucked into the boots.” Cheverly continued to rattle on, more to herself than Venus. She looked her up and down, like sharp cheddar on a grater. “You’re wearing the smaller jeans, right?”

“Yes,” Venus agreed.

“Be right back.” Pivoting on her heels, she walked toward a jean rack without bling.

While waiting, Venus left the little room and searched the store for Zaren. His intense green eyes caught hers. Without meaning to, she gasped. Her alien heart already beat too fast, but seeing him . . . well he looked so handsome. Zaren had changed out of his Formytian uniform into human clothing. A flutter brushed low in her stomach, sending waves of warmth to different parts of her body. Her legs felt weak.

He had on a white long-sleeved shirt, with a fox head on the front. The jeans he’d chosen looked worn. There were creases and even a few holes in a couple of places. Brown lace-up boots were on his feet and he held a dark brown leather jacket. Next to him, on the floor, leaned a bag, which Venus guessed held his guardian attire.

“Your boyfriend’s totally hot. You’re so lucky,” Cheverly said wistfully into Venus’s ear.

Startled, Venus whipped around, knocking Cheverly in the face with the back of her hand. Not hard. It was a reflex to being snuck up on.

Surprised, Cheverly simultaneously lifted her hands, grabbing Venus by the arms, and stepped backward. Together, they both fell to the floor. Venus landed on the girl.

“Oh! I’m so sorry,” Venus said, jumping up and sticking out a hand to help Cheverly up. “You scared me.” The whole idea of someone sneaking up on her wasn’t fathomable. Never would’ve happened on her planet.

Cheverly appeared stunned; a red mark shaded her left cheek. She took Venus’s hand and stood. “It’s okay. I-I’m sorry, too.” She bent over and picked up the clothes she’d brought for Venus to try on. Awkwardly, she asked, “What do you think of these?”

“Beautiful. May I?”

“Yep. Can’t wait to see them on you.” She handed them over.

Venus headed back into the little dressing room. Before closing the door, she said to Cheverly, “He isn’t my boyfriend.” As she spoke, her eyes locked with Zaren’s. He looked crestfallen.

“Ah, helker,” she swore quietly, closing the door and locking it.

Cheverly said, “Good to know.”

A pang jolted Venus at Cheverly’s words. Jealousy? A word she’d heard, but never understood.
Whatever.

Quickly, she removed the clothes and her boots again, a big no-no according to her parents and their shaman. At least until she’d completed her metamorphous and became immortal. Kelvieri. She didn’t know why. Figured it might have something to do with the way the boots led her to the Manshum Mountains.
What could it hurt?
Besides the Gods had commanded her to remain here, so they’d better cut her some slack.

After she’d pulled on the skinny jeans, she slid on the boots. As she watched the five buckles seal themselves around her calves, she thought of the symbols in the clear heels. A beating red heart surrounded by smoke from the Valley of Ga. When she held still, she could feel the
thump-thump
,
thump-thump
,
thump-thump
coming from within
.
In the other heel bobbed a glowing arrow encircled by irrihunter blood.

What did the symbols mean?
She had no clue.

Taking a sequined gold tank from its hanger, she pulled it on.Over the top of the tank, she put on a sheer, navy blue empire waist top. They didn’t fit as perfectly as the clothing from the palace designers, but they’d work out fine. Cheverly had picked out a different coat for her as well. A metallic plaid in black and gold, it was double breasted and had a belt which tied in the front. She shouldered on the coat and admired the outfit in the glass.
Not bad. I like them.

Before she had the chance to step out, Cheverly asked, “Rockin, yes?”

“Thank you. These are perfect.”

Cheverly beamed at the compliment. “So you’ll take them?”

“I’ll take them.” Venus sucked in discreetly, stepped out of the dressing room, blew out a little air and followed Cheverly.

“Good.” She moved briskly to the register. Zaren met them there. A large pile of clothing covered the counter in front of them. “Cheese, guys. Did you two want all of this?” Cheverly asked, incredulous. There were several more jeans; some looked like they were for Zaren and others for Venus. Two separate piles of underwear, tanks, pajamas, belts, socks, and on and on . . .