Captured: Warriors of Hir, Book 1 (8 page)

When he was dressed again and she was clad in jeans, T-shirt, and sweater he watched while she used the hairdryer on her hair.

His hair was shaggy, nearly to his waist, and she wondered if his people didn’t cut it or he just hadn’t bothered to.

“I used to cut Pap’s hair. I could trim yours,” she said, holding up the scissors. She ran her fingers through the still damp ends of his hair, and pantomimed the action. “Just a little bit, maybe just to clean up the very ends here?”

Ra’kur’s cheeks flushed and, dropping his gaze, he gave a short nod.

He was so tall and his hair long enough she didn’t even have him sit while she cut. The conditioner had made the strands soft, so black it shone blue as she ran her fingers though it. In all she’d only cut about an inch off but she thought it looked much better as she pulled away the towel that she’d used to protect his shoulders from the falling hair.

He’d stayed still, almost shy, as she’d cut but his body tensed when she started to dry his hair.

She thumbed the dryer off and cupped her hand over her ear as if trying to block sound.

“Is it too loud for you?” She switched the setting to low. “Better?”

He gave a relieved nod and she was mindful to keep the dryer away from his ears as much as possible.

One thing he especially liked was using the brush on her hair. He brushed and brushed, rumbling happily as he smoothed her long locks.

“I think that’s plenty,” she teased and he looked disappointed when she took the brush from him.

He followed her out into the living room. She debated whether to start another log burning now—the ancient furnace could use all the help it could get—or to wait till they came back from the phone search.

“What ‘Jenna’?” he growled.

Her brow creased. “That’s my name, remember?” She pointed to herself. “Jenna.”

His hair caught the light with his sharp headshake. “What ‘
Jenna
’?”

“I don’t understand. ‘Jenna’ is me.”

“Ra’kur.” He tapped his chest, then curled his huge hand into a fist. “
Strong
.”

“Oh, you mean what does my name
mean
?”

He jerked his chin at her. “What Jenna
mean
?”

“What
does
Jenna mean?” she corrected automatically. “Pap said it meant ‘little bird.’ That’s why he called me ‘Birdie.’”

He blinked.

“Okay, way too many new words at once there.” She held her forefinger and thumb close. “Little.” She held up the gold charm that Pap had given her. “Bird. Little bird.”

“
Little bird
.” He cupped her cheek with his hand and his alien eyes shone. “
Mine
little bird.
Jenna
.”

Her vision blurred. For all its simplicity she’d never in her life heard such a heartfelt declaration from anyone.

He jerked his chin at her. “Water-eyes.”

“Yeah, guess you took me by surprise there,” she said with a shaky laugh. “It was nice though.”

He searched her face. “Water-eyes?”

“Because of what you said.”

His brow creased. “Water-eyes
name
.”

“Oh! You’re asking about my
tears
.” She pointed to her eye. “When humans’ eyes have water that’s called ‘tears.’ When I’m sad or hurt I have tears.”

“Sad?” He looked upset. “Hurt?”

Jenna waved her hand. “Or happy.”

He gave her a look that said exactly what he thought about her having a reaction that could mean any, or all, of the three.

“Actually, since we’re on the names subject, what
are
you? I’m human. Bill, remember him?” she asked with a wave toward the front door. “He’s human.” She picked up the case for the movie they’d watched last night and pointed to the photo. “Charles and Nell are
human
. What are you?”

He gave a short, clipped growl.

“Greehaar?” she tried.

He shook his head and repeated the word. She tried twice more and he seemed pretty satisfied with her third attempt of “grah-here.”

“How did you come here? To this world?” She realized she was waving her arms around in a way that could probably mean anything. “Wait, I have an idea. Come on.”

Jenna pulled on her down jacket and zipped it up. He was in front of her as soon as she opened the front door, already scanning the woods and sniffing.

After a moment he gave her a nod and she stepped out onto the porch.

“There’s nothing up here,” she said, heading down the stairs. “Sometimes you see a black bear and there’s been some wolves but even they’re rare. Your worst worry is snakes or coming up on a hornets’ nest cause they sometimes build them in the ground but that’s not gonna happen in winter. Now
this
is my SUV,” she continued with a gesture at it. “Which I really need to clear the snow off of. Man, that’s going to be a pain now,” she muttered, giving the ice crusted over the snow a disgusted push with her gloved fingers. “Anyway, this is my car. It takes me from place to place.” She pointed at the tire tracks Bill’s cruiser had left behind. “That was Bill’s car. What do you have? Where is it?”

In the sunlight reflecting off the snow he was both handsome and alien to her eyes now. His eyes glowed inhumanly but she recognized the intelligence, humor, and warmth in their blue depths now.

Was it only yesterday that I was terrified of him?

He jerked his chin toward the woods in the direction she’d searched. “There,” he rumbled.

“Will you show me?” She pointed at her eyes then in the direction he’d indicated. “Show me.”

He gave a short nod. “Will show you, Jenna.”

She blinked. “Wow, you’re picking up English fast. My language is called ‘English.’”

“Human language is
English
,” he repeated.

“Uh, no.
My
language is English. Other humans have other languages.”

He frowned. “Much languages?”

She recalled her sociology textbook in college said there was an insane number of languages—some with a very low number speakers, of course—currently spoken on Earth, something like six thousand.             

“Yeah, but I only know one.” She’d taken a couple years of French but she could barely remember how to ask directions to the ladies’ so that didn’t count.

“I have much languages,” he said. “English is a pain.”

“
What?
”

His alien eyes were puzzled. “To take snow from car—
a pain
. English is a pain.”

“Yeah, I did say that, didn’t I?” Jenna shook her head. “Do you remember”—she touched his temple—“everything I say? All my words?”

Ra’kur looked surprised. “Yeah.”

She gave a short laugh. “That should be ‘yes.’ And a better word for ‘a pain’ is ‘difficult.’”

“Yes,” he echoed, a growling rumble rolling his words. “English is
difficult
.”

“Yes.” She was hyperconscious of her slang and diction now that she knew he was absorbing everything like a sponge. “English is difficult, even for humans to learn.”

In his eyes there was a glimmer of amusement and the frustration of not being able to share his humor, the questions he wanted to ask and sorrow at lacking the ability to do so.

She felt it keenly too, the longing to be closer, to share.

He caught her hand in his and in silence they continued down the mountain. Ra’kur led her to the place near the creek where she’d been so spooked yesterday.

“Uh, I don’t see anything,” she said, frowning.

He let go of her hand and took two steps forward. He raised a finger and tapped the air. In response the woods seemed to shimmer for a moment and revealed—just for an instant—a long oval shape.

Jenna’s mouth parted. “How the hell do you do that?”

The spaceship was disguised—cloaked somehow—so well that she’d stood right next to it yesterday without knowing. Sure, if she’s tried to take a few steps closer or tried to get to the other side of the creek she would have walked right into it. And like yesterday the ground looked just like mud.

“The spaceship would have been hot from entering the atmosphere,” she murmured. “I smelled something but with everything so wet from the snow . . .”

Jenna took a step forward and tapped as he had. The outline of the ship shimmered for an instant then vanished.

“Why isn’t there snow on it now?” she asked. “It snowed last night so there should be snow all over it, right?”

He looked ready to speak then glanced at where the ship would be if she could see it. He looked frustrated and shook his head. “No snow.”

So there was an explanation but he just didn’t have the language skills to convey it.

And he’s learning English a hell of a lot faster than I could ever hope to pick up those growls of his.

“Can I see the inside?” She pointed to her eyes. “Will you show me the inside?”

In response he waved his hand. There was a hissing sound and from where she stood she could see a doorway in front of him.

And still no spaceship around it.

He took a step forward—and vanished.

Jenna drew her breath at his sudden disappearance. She hurried to where he had been to see the doorway in front of her, and Ra’kur just inside.

It was so unreal—to see the woods around the doorway and Ra’kur standing inside a room too. It was if he had opened a magic door smack dab in the middle of the North Carolina woods. But this wasn’t magic. It was an illusion created by a superior technology and she suppressed a shiver.

How much more advanced
were
his people?

He held his hand out to her. “Show you, Jenna.”

She wet her lips and clasping his hand, stepped inside.

Eight

The interior of her very first spaceship wasn’t the shiny silvery wonder she’d expected. It was metallic but had a dark, worn feeling to it and the lights that illuminated this squared-off space were a warm yellow shade. The floor looked scuffed and a bit like he’d tracked mud in that had dried. There was another door with a window and what looked like sealed supply closets on either side.

“So, this is the foyer, huh?” she asked, joking from nerves. “Coat closet, place to dry the umbrella?”

He glanced around the space as if trying to understand her comments by looking. He tilted his head at her.

She waved it away. “Sorry, just kidding.”

She couldn’t see anything through the interior window except total darkness. Suddenly all those ugly stories about alien abductions and hideous medical experiments flashed through her mind. Movies featuring powerful beings with superior technology and no mercy—

“Okay, Jenna?” Ra’kur searched her face, his rippled brow creased.

He wouldn’t hurt me. Ra’kur would
never
hurt me. Like Pap would say, not for all the tea in China.

“I’m okay.” She let her breath out. “All right, so show me the rest.”

There was a keypad next to the door with sixteen keys and symbols. He tapped a code into a keypad, the light over the door went white, and the door slid open.

Immediately the interior lights came up. There was a corridor that went off in either direction. It smelled a bit like singed machinery and cinnamon.

It was warm inside, enough so that Jenna pulled off her gloves, stuffed them in her pocket, and unzipped her coat.

He nodded to the corridor to the left. “Here.”

He led the way. At various junctures were lit panels—controls of some kind—and Ra’kur gave each a cursory glance as they went by. He keyed open another door and Jenna caught her breath to see the curved windows showing the woods.

“The cockpit, right?”

There were two seats at the front near the controls and two set higher up and behind.

Guess you’d call those the back seat.

Jenna shrugged out of her jacket and put it across one of the seats. She laid her hand on the headrest; it felt smooth, like leather.

“Are there more like you, Ra’kur? Other g’hirs here?”

His shaggy hair showed blue highlights with his sharp headshake. “No others.”

She frowned at the way he said that. “Are there any others? At all?”

He held his fingers close together. “Little.”

“You’re alone?”

“No more.” His gaze softened, his alien eyes lit from within. “Jenna stay me.”

Her eyes stung.

“Hurt?” He cupped her cheek, examining her face worriedly. “Sad, Jenna?”

She didn’t know. “Happy.”

And sad.

Because whatever she felt—whatever
this
was—didn’t have a chance in hell.

She blinked the tears away. “Hey, come on, this my first spaceship ever. Show me the rest, okay?”

She longed to explore the alien spices and flavors in the galley he led her to, wishing she could ask him about it all. Next to the galley was a room with a table and four chairs fixed to the floor. Couches lined the next room and everything big was attached to the floor. Everything in here would be a comfortable fit for him and oversized for her.

He had a sleeping room with a large bed, one wide and long enough for even him to stretch out, and there were two other sleeping rooms being used for storage. There were other storage rooms as well and the last room he brought her to had an antiseptic smell to it.

“Infirmary,” she guessed from the set-up of the room. The thought of it brought her up short. “What happens if you get sick or hurt, Ra’kur? Who takes care of you?”

He regarded her with frustrated eyes. He took her hand in his.

“Give names,” he said earnestly. “Here. Please.”

Jenna shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

He opened one of the drawers and took out a cylindrical metal instrument. It was about eight inches long and he gripped it tightly as he held it out to her. “Give names, here. Please.”

He brought the instrument up and she flinched back, bringing her arm up defensively.  “What are you doing?” she cried.

He stopped short. Moving slower now he lifted the instrument to her eye level. He brought the thing toward his neck and pantomimed the act of pressing it against his skin. “Give names.”

“Ra’kur, I’m sorry. I really don’t understand.” Jenna looked at the instrument warily as she lowered her arm. “What is that thing? Can you tell me another way?”

“
Tell,
Jenna!” He threw his arm wide to indicate the room and by extension the spaceship around them. “Ra’kur not have
English
!”

“Language,” she breathed. “You can’t learn my language fast enough to tell me everything you need to.” She looked at the instrument in his hand. “Will that let you understand English somehow?”

He nodded, holding up the instrument again. “Ra’kur will have English. Jenna will have mine names.”

“So I let you do this then you’ll know my language and I’ll know yours?”

“Yes.” He touched her temple then his. “Will know
language
.”

Jenna wet her lips. If she did this she would be able to understand him, finally be able to talk to him. Some of the sounds he made seemed like they were going to be flat out impossible for the human tongue to mimic. He was tons better at her language than she was at his but he was still struggling. It might be months or years before they could communicate well.

And God, the opportunity to
talk to an alien was fantastic but the truth was Jenna just wanted desperately to talk to
Ra’kur
.

She glanced at the instrument in his hand. “Is it going to hurt?”

He looked regretful and she took that to mean, yeah, it’s gonna hurt.

“Okay.” She gave a nod, her hands clenching into fists like they always did at the dentist’s office. “Go ahead.”

As he raised the instrument to hold it to her neck, a thousand questions that she
should
have asked before agreeing to this flashed through her mind. Like, what if something goes wrong with it? How will you get it out?
Can
you get it out? How can injecting me with something teach anybody a new language anyway?

But he already had the thing against her neck, behind her right ear. Before she could stop him to ask some of those questions she heard a hissing sound and gasped against what felt like the worst combination brain-freeze and migraine of her life.

Ra’kur made soft, soothing growls as her hands came up to her temples in an effort to keep her head from exploding. She was struggling to keep her breathing even, trying not to throw up as Ra’kur stroked her hair.

She groaned and pressed her hands harder against the sides of her head as the pain grew worse. “God, that fucking
hurts
!”

“—stand me?”

Jenna brought her throbbing head up. “What?”

Ra’kur leaned forward, his bright eyes anxious. “Can you understand me now?”

He was still growling; she could hear the growling but in her head she heard
words
.

“Oh, wow,” she breathed.  “That’s
weird
.”

Ra’kur searched her face worriedly. “Little bird, can you understand me?”

She pushed her hair away from her face. “Yeah, I can understand you.”

“Are you still in pain?”

The throbbing was starting to fade. “It’s getting better now.”

He let his breath out. “Thank the All Mother. It should not have hurt you so much.”

“The ‘All Mother’?”

He tilted his head. “What do you call the giver of all life?”

“Uh, Pap was an agnostic but he liked some of the eastern stuff, like Buddhism.” Ra’kur was looking at her blankly. “Okay, I’d say ‘God.’” She gave a short, choked laugh. “We’re talking. We’re actually talking. You’re speaking your language and I’m speaking mine and we’re
talking
.”

He smiled back. “There has been so much I wanted to say to you. But first I must thank you for your courage, for your trust.”

Jenna thought about falling on her butt in the snow, screaming her head off as she tried to get away from him yesterday. “Yeah, I don’t think I’d call myself ‘courageous.’”

“You let me place the linguistic implant.”

“
That’s
what you injected?”

“Of course.” He looked puzzled. “You said humans had many languages. You must have similar devices.”

“No, we don’t have anything like this.”

“How can you speak to one another?”

“Well, some people grow up speaking more than one language and others learn as—Can we get back to whatever you just injected me with?”

He touched the base of her skull. “Is it malfunctioning? I can understand you.”

“No, it’s working fine but
how
is it working?”

“It attaches to the language center of your brain. The chip transmits the translation directly.”

She stared. “I have an alien chip in my
brain
?”

“Yes.”

“Uh, okay,” she said after a moment. “I guess I’m the only one here who has a problem with this.”

His brow creased instantly and he lifted the instrument again. “Does it still pain you? Do you feel dizzy?”
             

“I mean the
concept
of—Wait, what would you do if it did still hurt?”

“I would remove it.”

“But then I wouldn’t be able to talk to you.”

“I would learn English.” His fingers brushed her cheek. “I would never let you hurt if I could help it. I would do anything to keep you from hurting.”

“It’s okay now,” she assured him. “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

He put the instrument down and took her hands in his. “There is so much I wish to know about you.” He gave a short laugh. “I want to know everything.”

“I want to know about you too. Like, where are you from?”

“A world very far from here.”

“You probably don’t need to dumb it down quite so much,” she said, a little annoyed.  “I’m not stupid.”