Allie's War Episodes 1-4(103)

I would turn him back...make him into that thing he hates.
He is sure of it. He feels it with every part of his being.
I would turn him back, if he let me.
Above, the Pyramid rotates. There is more to see.
For now, alone...further back, below.
He would remember.



“Hey.” The woman fought to slow her breathing. She realized she’d never gotten his name. “Hey...are you okay?”
His pale skin wore the same sheen that matted her blond hair to her neck and shoulders, stuck the cotton sheet to her legs. She clutched at him, unable to help it. Her whole body still vibrated from what he’d done to her...seemingly again and again and again. He’d been unnervingly focused as he brought her to orgasm, but by the end, he’d surprised her by being verbal, too.
A lot more verbal than she would have guessed from their brief conversation in the bar.
He’d warned her it would be fast, and yet, there’d been something vulnerable about him once he let himself go. That vulnerability edged into a near-violence at times, but he hadn’t hurt her. He’d removed her clothes before they were all the way in the room, and she could tell he’d been holding back even then, using his mouth to buy them time, pushing her to talk to him.
Once he’d really started, she doubted he’d been aware of her at all.
When he finally came, he’d been nearly begging her.
Or begging someone, perhaps, to do...something.
Now he just lay there, like a dead person.
She wondered how she’d let him talk her into coming here. Her husband got them separate cabins—his idea, of course, to give them “more space” and because he claimed he couldn’t sleep with her snoring—but he had no compunction about stopping by when the mood struck him, or if he and the dance instructor had one of their spats. She cringed at the thought that she might have to explain a naked, male seer in her bed.
Although, really, it would serve him right.
“Hey.” She laid a hand on his chest. His skin felt cold. She kept her voice light, trying to smile. “Who’s Allie?”
She saw his expression change, just before he closed his eyes. She couldn’t help wondering though. A girlfriend? Did they even date?
Looking away, he shifted his weight on the mattress.
She caressed his hair. “Are you sick?”
He raised a hand, pushing hers off. She watched in disbelief as he wiped his face, doubting what she’d seen. Then his breathing changed, and she couldn’t deny what she heard. He was crying. He wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand.
“Hey,” she said, a little alarmed. “What’s going on?”
When he spoke, his voice made her jump. She’d forgotten the accent.
“I’m married,” he said.
A surprised laugh caught in her throat. She tried to keep it out of her voice.
“So am I,” she said. “I thought that was the point.”
He looked at her. His pale eyes reflected light shining from under the door, almost like a cat’s eyes. Again, she remembered he wasn’t human. He stared back as if she were just as alien to him. Then he sat up. She watched him feel around on the floor for his pants, pulling them up over his legs and looping then hooking his belt. Standing, he found his shirt and drew it over his head, and now she felt emotion waver off him, clear as a scent. It was self-loathing.
She pulled the damp sheet tighter around herself. “I’m sorry,” she said.
He shook his head. “It’s not your fault.”
“Do you want money?” She recoiled in spite of herself, afraid of him once she saw the look in his eyes.
“No,” he said flatly. He didn’t look at her again.
Before she could think what to say next, he had bent down, picking up the shoulder harness that had shocked her when she had first seen it.
He donned it like a vest, velcroing it tight, checking the gun in obvious rote before shouldering on his jacket over it. She was still staring when he turned his back to her, aiming his feet for the door.
The light blinded her as he opened it onto the corridor...but it wasn’t open long.
Following the click of the latch, she lay back on the bed with a sigh. All she could feel was relief that he was gone, that she’d likely never see him again.



When Eliah finished speaking, Chandre remained silent.
Eliah shared the construct with her, so he knew she was thinking to herself how ridiculous this was. Further, that it went beyond her job description as infiltrator to babysit two full-grown seers who, in her mind, should be alone in a cabin somewhere, getting acquainted in the carnal sense for at least a month before they were allowed to talk about their relationship in anything but monosyllables. That was the traditional way it was done, and the old forms existed for a reason.