Five
“You’re leaving?” She scrambled to her feet. “Do you have to? Right now?”
“Have to, yes.”
“There’s—Hannah made a chocolate cake. And I can make coffee. Don’t you want to try coffee?”
“Have to go, Tara.”
“Back to your ship? That thing’s a wreck!”
“A wreck,” he agreed. “But there,” he indicated the far end of the table, “can talk to other g’hir.”
“You’re going to call for help.”
“Yes.”
“Oh.” Tara shifted her weight. “Can’t I come with you? I mean, just to your ship?”
His luminous gaze searched hers. Then he gave a deliberate, human nod.
“Okay.” She glanced at the table. “Let me just clear this away and we can go.”
He helped, carrying most of it for her. Not wanting to delay and a little fearful he might vanish while her back was turned loading the dishwasher, she stacked everything up next to the sink to take care of later.
“All set.” She finished drying her hands on the dishtowel, but if she thought he’d forgotten about the packs he’d left in Rose’s room she was disappointed. She waited for him downstairs while he fetched them.
“I should go first to take a look,” she cautioned at the rear foyer door. “Just in case Hannah and William are back already.”
He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t object either.
Tara stepped out into the warm spring day. She hurried down the slate stairs, already craning her neck to look down the path that ran along the back of the house. But the east gate was closed, and only the rustle of trees and the hum of insects reached her.
“Come on,” she waved him forward, her voice low. “I think we’re clear.”
He slipped through the door, shutting it so quietly she couldn’t hear it, even this close by. He too glanced toward the gate, his long dark hair glossy in the sunlight and his strides confident as he joined her.
“We are clear.”
“Let me guess—you can smell them.”
“No,” he growled. “Can not smell them.”
“I meant—” She laughed, shaking her head, the gravel crunching under their feet as they walked. “I meant you could smell them if they were here.”
“This—” He stopped, his fingers brushed a deep red bloom then he leaned down, cupping the flower, closing his eyes blissfully for a moment as he inhaled. “What is this name?”
“That’s a rose.” Tara nodded at the many flowers surrounding them. “These are all roses. They were planted here, for her.”
He straightened to look at the château, at the windows of the second-floor suite.
“Ki’san, did you really see her . . . Rose, I mean?”
“Yes.”
“Have you seen ghosts before?”
“Since very young.” He turned, and she continued with him on the path. “I would choose not to see them again.”
“I’d love to see one.”
“You would not.” He pushed the gate open with more force than needed. “They are sad, always.”
“At least they’re something.” A lump formed in her throat as the iron shut and latched. “At least they’re not nothing.”
“You are sad.” Ki’san hand still rested on the iron bar. “Why?”
She shrugged, consciously letting her forehead smooth out, unnerved at how easily he could read her. “Just thinking about poor Rose.”
“You are not”—his fangs flashed—“just thinking about ‘poor Rose’.”
“What, are you a mind reader now too?” She bent her head, stomping through the high weeds.
Suddenly he was in front of her.
“Holy crap!” Tara’s hands flew to her chest and she looked back at where he had been standing an instant ago.
“Afraid?” He sent a glance that way. “I smell no danger.”
“I—hold on, my heart’s at a mile a minute here—you surprised, no, make that shocked me. You weren’t kidding about being fast!” She stared. “Just how fast can you run?”
“Faster,” he shifted the packs he carried. “Unweighted.”
“Will you—” She lowered her hands. “Will you show me?”
He lifted the bag slung over his shoulder and set it on the ground, then shrugged the other from his shoulders.
“Just there.” He pointed to the tree line, nearly fifty yards away. Then he twisted, and Tara took an instinctive step back as the sprung away, his footfalls nearly a blur, then he was turning, coming back at her like a shot.
Her hair blinded her, blown about by his speed, scattering leaves all around her as he passed.
His huffing laughter was deep, his cheeks flushed, his gaze even brighter as she looked round at him wide-eyed.
“You ran there and back in what, a few seconds?”
“Not so fast.” Ki’san was still grinning but his hand pressed his ribs, favoring that side now as he walked back to her. “Other days, I am faster.”
“Did you hurt yourself?” She stepped closer, her hand going over his. “You’re not bleeding again, are you?”
His skin was fever hot, his breath quicker from his run. He was so close she could see the pulse in the hollow of his throat, his warm cinnamon scent filling her senses. Instinctively, Tara leaned toward him—
“We go.” He stepped back bending to retrieve his packs. “We go to the ship now.”
Ki’san held up one hand, stopping her. “You stay here.”
She frowned, glancing up at the ship. If anything, it looked in even worse shape today. “I’d like to come in with you.”
“The other g’hir, inside, I have to do for them. Words to speak for their spirits.”
“I can help—”
“No.” His voice was firm. “You are not to help, Tara.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you or your, uh, beliefs.”
“I do not have the words of English to say—”
“It’s fine, I get it.” She tried to shrug casually. “I’ll just wait here while you pray or whatever.”
“No, not for me to say. Words will be said on Hir.”
“What’s—” He swallowed the beginning of that last word in a way she’d probably never replicate but she tried anyway. “Hir?”
“Tara.” Ki’san indicated the surrounding woods. “Earth.” He tapped his chest. “Ki’san. Hir.”
“That’s your world? Hir?”
“My world. Yes.” He looked uncomfortable. “There are things a g’hir male must do. Things that are not for you to do.”
“So there are things that men of your world are supposed to do, but not women?”
“Women yes. Not you.”
“Oh, because I’m not g’hir? Because I’m human?”
“Not you, Tara.” His voice was a soft, low rumble, his gaze searching her face. “Do you understand my words?”
“No.” She sighed. “But looks like I’m staying out here anyhow.”
He looked relieved, but then his face took on a grim cast as he stepped through the torn hull.
Tara leaned back against the ship. It was warmer today than yesterday, but the sunshine didn’t penetrate the high, leafy branches. She was beginning to wish she’d brought a sweater.
After five minutes, she started pacing. After fifteen, she sat on a nearby rock, still keeping an eye on the opening that Ki’san had gone through.
At twenty-seven minutes, Tara pushed herself up, striding across the clearing to—
“Oh, thank God!” she cried at seeing Ki’san appear at the gap. “I was worried about you!”
His brow creased. “Why you worry?”
“Why? You’ve been in there forever! I thought you might be hurt or—or something.”
His bright eyes blinked at her. “You fear I am hurt?”
“Yeah, well,” She indicated the interior. “Everything’s a mess in there. You could have been—Never mind. Are you finished?”
“I have done for the others.” He gestured her closer. “You come now.”
She hesitated. “This is just a visit, right? This ship won’t take off for your world or anything?”
“No.” He gave a huff. “This ship never ‘take off’ again.”
He had his light in hand and on when they entered the medical bay. He handed it to her and took another for himself, activating it.
Tara glanced up at the ceiling. “The lights are out. This thing is completely out of power, huh?”
With his light, he indicated the dark corridor beyond the medical bay. “Moved power up.”
“We’re not doing the elevator again,” she warned. “No freaking way.”
“No freaking way,” he agreed.
Ki’san led her to the ladder but she hesitated. “You know, maybe I should just wait outside.”
“Safe, Tara. Safe up there—” he tugged hard on the metal rung. “Safe to go up.”
“You know, on Earth—” she thumbed her light off and slipped it into the front pocket of her jeans, then grabbed the rung. “A gentleman goes first.”
“On Hir we catch a female,” he rumbled. “Not fall on her.”
“Yeah,” she said with a laugh. “Well, maybe g’hir have the right idea on that one.”
Whether it was nervousness because he was watching her or fatigue from having done this climb less than a day ago, it was more difficult this time. Her hands were trembling when she reached the top. The bridge was empty now; clearly part of his task here had been attending to his crewmates.
Ki’san swung off the rungs, not even breathing hard. “Okay, Tara?”
“’Course.” She massaged her palms, using her thumbs to work out the pinched skin. “Just glad I didn’t wear a dress today.”
His brow creased, then suddenly his cheeks flamed. He ducked his head, rushing past her.
A few of the controls were dimly lit and Ki’san moved about adjusting them, all the while avoiding her eye.
“I’m sorry.” She rested her hand on the headrest of the now empty pilot’s chair. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“I am not human.” His shoulders were tight. “I am g’hir.”
And a married one too.
“I know.” She winced inwardly. “No more off-color jokes, I promise.”
He kept his attention on his work. His fingers tapped the controls, then he repeated the sequence. After a moment one, of the controls began to flash steadily.
“Do you think what you did will work?” She waved at the blinking light. “Do you think your people will hear you?”
“This is not strong. Little power and will not last long.”
“But they’ll come for you? Your people?”
“They will come.”
“What happens then?”
“Then,” Ki’san changed the sequence, and the light flashed slower. “I go home.”
“They won’t—your people won’t hurt anyone here when then come? Humans, I mean.”
“No.” He studied her. “Not afraid, Tara?”
“A little. I mean, not of you but—”
“Other g’hir,” his growl was sharp, “will never hurt you.”
“Guess you’ll be glad to get back.” She tried for a casual shrug. “It’s not like you could stay here, right?”
“No,” he rumbled. “Could not stay here.”
“Well,” Tara passed her hand over her forehead. “Is that everything you needed to do?”
“Best if I make the ship—” he struggled for the right word “—not seen. But I cannot.”
“You mean camouflage it somehow? Something this big?” She raised her eyebrows. “How is that possible?”
“With power, possible. So little power now, is not.”
“I don’t think you need to worry too much. Between the hills and the tree cover you’d have to either be directly above looking down, or standing right at the ridge like I did yesterday to see the ship. How . . . how long before your people come looking for you?”
He looked troubled. “I do not know.”
“We should get you into the house, before Hannah and William come back from town.” She forced a lighthearted tone. “You don’t want to have to sneak in again, right?”
But Ki’san gave a heavy nod.
He climbed down the ladder first, his strong hands at her waist to steady her when she was on the last rungs. He let go the moment her feet were on the floor.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, following him back to the infirmary.
He shone his light at the far end of the room. “There is something else I must bring.”
“Yesterday you leapt at me with one of the silver things in here.” She tapped the marked cabinet as he rummaged. “Why? What were you going to do?”
“For words.” He straightened, closing his pack and touched his ear. “To give you g’hir words.”
“Wait—what?” She stared. “It’s something that would let me understand you? Understand your language? The same way you can understand English?”
“Yes. Like English.”
“Well get one of them out here! I’d love to be able to understand your language.”
“Cannot.” His face darkened. “They are broken.”
“Wait, all of them were damaged in the crash?”
“No.” His fangs flashed in the dim light. “Made to kill.”
“Made to—someone did that on purpose?”
“I say words—pray thanks—that you ran away. That it did not touch you.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty freaking grateful for that myself.” Tara’s glance took in the vessel around them. “Ki’san, the crash—it wasn’t an accident, was it?”
“No,” he growled. “This ship was broken too. Broken by other g’hir.”
“Other—? But why would one of your own people sabotage your ship?
“Not my people!”
She shook her head. “But you said g’hir—”
“G’hir yes. Not like me, Tara. Not like me ever. Understand?”
“I think so.” She shifted. “There are humans who do things—evil things—that I can hardly believe.”
“Evil.” His voice was low, rough. “Yes, they do things of evil.”
“These other g’hir, they won’t come here—to Earth—will they?”
“I pray—” His shimmering gaze met hers. “I pray no.”