Read Online Prince of Luster by Candace Sams - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Candace Sams
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was alone on the street. The day’s events found the slugs drinking in the tavern and loudly boasting of their prowess in killing a tied man. She actually heard them laugh about it.
With grim intent, she kept to the shadows and made her way to where the stranger had been tied.
In the light of the full moon, the stranger’s cloak and shirt still lay on the ground. Nova grabbed the garments and held them to her chest. For some reason, no one had picked them up. Likely, everyone had ignored them in order to get away as soon as they’d been allowed, just like she had.
Guilty pain settled in her heart. She looked across the marketplace once more and stared at one of the columns. It was still smoking. There was even a black, oval burn mark where the stranger had fallen to the ground. It led to a trail of ash and charred bits of other clothing where he’d dragged himself and rolled in the dirt. “No one should have to die like that,” she whispered again, then hurried away toward the pits.
When she arrived, there were only a few bodies, but some of them had been there for a week or more awaiting incineration. The smell was indescribably abominable. But she clenched her jaw and searched through the rocks and rubble. Then she found him.
He lay on a pile of loose stones, his hands reaching for the sky in a clenched posture. She’d seen that before, when the last stages of death overtook the victims. They’d tried to breathe, then had gasped their last as they’d clawed and writhed for air.
She knelt beside the horrible, scorched figure and placed his cloak and shirt over him. They were his property after all. And putting them in the pit with the man meant no one would steal them.
She clasped her hands together, looked toward the night sky, and quietly prayed.
“Creator Goddess, please let this brave stranger come into another life. Please lead him to an existence where he’ll be rewarded for his deeds this day. Have pity on him, I beg you.”
One reaching hand slowly turned toward her and stretched outward.
Nova almost froze in horror.
“H-help me …
please
,” he croaked.
She swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and glanced toward the heavens before pulling the cloak and shirt off his face. She finally got a good look into the open green eyes of the stranger. In that poignant moment, the moonlight illuminated his face, as if to punctuate the last remnants of a battling god.
“You can’t be alive,” she whispered. “No one could have survived that much plasma.”
“P-please …” he begged as he stretched his hand toward her again.
She put out one shaking hand on the side of his head. He weakly cried out. By some miracle, his beautiful eyes had been spared, though the rest of his body seemed burned beyond recognition.
In the moon’s light, those striking eyes begged for some tender mercy in the universe; mercy not shown on Delta Seven in a very long time.
She couldn’t leave him. In that moment, Nova knew she’d been brought there by the Goddess’s hand.
“I-I’ll take you someplace safe,” she quietly told him. “But you’re too large for me to carry.” She thought for a moment. If she’d been brought there for a reason, then there was a solution to the problem of getting him to safety. He might not last long thereafter, but he’d be with someone who’d help him into the next life.
It suddenly occurred to her that the slugs had parked their hovercraft outside the tavern. Attached to one was a hauler—likely the very one that’d carried her victim to this pit.
She remembered how to operate a hovercraft, though those she was used to were different from the small conveyances slugs brought from their cargo ships.
Still, it was worth trying. She could take one, have the stranger to her cave in just a few minutes, and get it back before the Limaxians ever knew what happened. They’d likely be so drunk that they’d never know the transport had been moved.
“I’ll be back,” she said
With grim intent, she kept to the shadows and made her way to where the stranger had been tied.
In the light of the full moon, the stranger’s cloak and shirt still lay on the ground. Nova grabbed the garments and held them to her chest. For some reason, no one had picked them up. Likely, everyone had ignored them in order to get away as soon as they’d been allowed, just like she had.
Guilty pain settled in her heart. She looked across the marketplace once more and stared at one of the columns. It was still smoking. There was even a black, oval burn mark where the stranger had fallen to the ground. It led to a trail of ash and charred bits of other clothing where he’d dragged himself and rolled in the dirt. “No one should have to die like that,” she whispered again, then hurried away toward the pits.
When she arrived, there were only a few bodies, but some of them had been there for a week or more awaiting incineration. The smell was indescribably abominable. But she clenched her jaw and searched through the rocks and rubble. Then she found him.
He lay on a pile of loose stones, his hands reaching for the sky in a clenched posture. She’d seen that before, when the last stages of death overtook the victims. They’d tried to breathe, then had gasped their last as they’d clawed and writhed for air.
She knelt beside the horrible, scorched figure and placed his cloak and shirt over him. They were his property after all. And putting them in the pit with the man meant no one would steal them.
She clasped her hands together, looked toward the night sky, and quietly prayed.
“Creator Goddess, please let this brave stranger come into another life. Please lead him to an existence where he’ll be rewarded for his deeds this day. Have pity on him, I beg you.”
One reaching hand slowly turned toward her and stretched outward.
Nova almost froze in horror.
“H-help me …
please
,” he croaked.
She swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and glanced toward the heavens before pulling the cloak and shirt off his face. She finally got a good look into the open green eyes of the stranger. In that poignant moment, the moonlight illuminated his face, as if to punctuate the last remnants of a battling god.
“You can’t be alive,” she whispered. “No one could have survived that much plasma.”
“P-please …” he begged as he stretched his hand toward her again.
She put out one shaking hand on the side of his head. He weakly cried out. By some miracle, his beautiful eyes had been spared, though the rest of his body seemed burned beyond recognition.
In the moon’s light, those striking eyes begged for some tender mercy in the universe; mercy not shown on Delta Seven in a very long time.
She couldn’t leave him. In that moment, Nova knew she’d been brought there by the Goddess’s hand.
“I-I’ll take you someplace safe,” she quietly told him. “But you’re too large for me to carry.” She thought for a moment. If she’d been brought there for a reason, then there was a solution to the problem of getting him to safety. He might not last long thereafter, but he’d be with someone who’d help him into the next life.
It suddenly occurred to her that the slugs had parked their hovercraft outside the tavern. Attached to one was a hauler—likely the very one that’d carried her victim to this pit.
She remembered how to operate a hovercraft, though those she was used to were different from the small conveyances slugs brought from their cargo ships.
Still, it was worth trying. She could take one, have the stranger to her cave in just a few minutes, and get it back before the Limaxians ever knew what happened. They’d likely be so drunk that they’d never know the transport had been moved.
“I’ll be back,” she said
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