Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Delaney
So there was a mothman in my house…
Delaney tilted her head, assessing him as she shed her outer layers, hanging them to dry. She couldn’t believe she had actually invited him inside. Some random man—scratch that—some random cryptid man.
She paused. In actuality, she didn’t know if he was male; she had no frame of reference for whatever he actually was. For all she knew, he could be a she. Her eyes drifted down his chest and landed on the sizable bulge in his pants.
Yup. Definitely male.
Her face flushed. Maelic caught it, because of course he did, and the corner of his mouth twitched—almost a smirk. Then it was gone, replaced by that unreadable expression. But she’d seen it. And the fangs. He had fangs. She hadn’t noticed those before. Her gaze flicked away.
“Okay, big guy. I don’t know what we’re doing here, but let’s make some cocoa.”
She moved toward the kitchen. The space had always felt cramped, but with Maelic behind her, it felt downright suffocating. She could feel him there, warm at her back, and something in her chest fluttered stupidly. She cleared her throat and pointed at the table. “Take a seat.”
He tilted his head. She mimed sitting, and recognition flickered across his face.
He lowered himself into the chair with surprising care, wings tucking tight to keep from knocking into anything.
The old wood creaked under his weight, and his frame dwarfed the small seat entirely.
He looked ridiculous—this massive creature crammed into her grandmother’s kitchen chair like a dad playing tea party with his child.
Whatever. This is my life now.
“Okay, let me see…” She rifled through the cabinet and felt a small spark of relief at finding the melting chocolate, but then her hand paused.
The shelves were barer than she remembered.
When did that happen? Her eyes flicked to the snow coming down hard outside; there would be no going out today to restock.
She grabbed the cinnamon and shut the cabinet.
She made the hot chocolate the way Grandpa always had.
Melted chocolate, not powder. Warmed milk, not water.
The familiar motions settled something in her, even as her chest ached.
She could still see him at this same stove—his toothy grin as he’d hand her the mug, the kiss on her cheek that smelled like pipe tobacco.
She swallowed hard and focused on her hands. She could’ve made an instant kind—that’s what she’d been surviving on for weeks—but something made her want to do this right.
“So you’re not aggressive now,” she said, knowing he couldn’t understand. The words helped fill the silence. “Even though you tried to—I don’t know—maul me last night?”
She dusted cinnamon on top and watched the powder settle. I wonder what that was about.
“But today you helped with my fence. With your weird glowing wrench thing.” Her nose scrunched. “When did cryptids get that kind of technology, anyway?”
As much as it hurt to do this without Grandpa, it felt nice to have someone to share it with. Cryptid or not. She carried both mugs to the table, set the fly-fishing one—Grandpa’s favorite—in front of Maelic, then slid into the seat across from him.
For a moment, she just watched.
His clawed hands wrapped around the mug, dwarfing it. He lifted it to his face and sniffed, his antennae twitching and perking forward like a dog catching a scent. Then those red eyes rose to meet hers, one brow raised. Her stomach flipped.
“You drink it,” she said, her voice a little breathless.
She lifted her own mug and took a sip, warmth spreading across her tongue. “Like this.”
With exaggerated wariness, Maelic brought the cup to his lips and mimicked her.
His eyes widened. His antennae perked straight up—the good position, she was starting to think—and a low rumble vibrated through his chest. It wasn’t a growl this time.
It was deeper, a rhythmic thrum-thrum-thrum that she could actually feel vibrating the table under her elbows.
He took another, deeper drink and hissed at the heat.
Delaney laughed—a real one, deep and throaty. The sound felt almost foreign. “Wow. So mothmen like chocolate.” She grinned at him over the rim of her mug. “Good to know.”
His gaze sharpened on her. The thrumming in his chest hitched, then stopped abruptly, as if he’d realized he was doing it. Something in his expression shifted, like her laugh had caught him off guard. Like it pleased him.
Her face warmed. She cleared her throat and wrapped her hands around her mug.
“It’s been a while since I sat down with anyone like this,” she said. “Let alone some legendary cryptid.” She shrugged. “But I’m glad you like it. It’s my grandpa’s recipe. Christmas tradition in this house.”
“What is this ‘Chresmas’?”
His voice rolled through her, warm and deep, shaped by an accent she couldn’t place. It took her a second to catch up.
“You don’t know what Christmas is?” She blinked. Then her eyes went huge. “Wait, you’re speaking English now!”
“You talk a great deal for someone who believes they cannot be understood.” Maelic’s eyes flashed with amusement.
Delaney’s mouth dropped open.
“My cipherbots finally synced with your Earth English.” He tilted his head, studying her. “You are human.”
Cipherbots?
“What’s a cipherbot?” She shook her head. “And, uh, yes? I’m human?”
Maelic took another sip from the mug. He seemed to be weighing his words, and when he finally spoke, he sounded tired.
“An advanced translation technology. I cannot explain the specifics beyond a rudimentary level.” He took another sip.
“They are a type of nanobot. You breathe them in and they allow you to understand languages of other species. They also provide context based on the Intergalactic Alliance database.”
Delaney’s head spun. “Wait. Intergalactic? Like space?” She leaned forward. “Do mothmen come from space?”
Maelic’s heavy brows creased. “Moth… men?” His cramped wings shifted. “I do not know what that is.”
“Oh, like…” She waved a hand. “They’re a type of bad luck omen. Fictional. A hybrid between a moth and a human. Kind of a monster.”
Maelic gave a dry snort as his cipherbots seemed to process her words. “Moth. This is a type of insect, yes?” He frowned. “I am far from a bug. Monster, sure… but no, little human, I am not a mothman. I am Artaisan. My species comes from a planet called Lunthra.”
A real live alien. In her kitchen.
It had been crazy enough thinking he was some kind of cryptid. This was something else entirely.
“Why are you here?” She leaned further over the table, her hair dangerously close to dipping into her cocoa. “If you’re from outer space.”
Something flickered across his face. That same guarded look, the one that said he didn’t want to go there. But his gaze drifted to the window, to the snow coming down harder, and something in his expression cracked.
“I am not here by choice. This planet is restricted. What is known as an X-Zone planet.” He turned the mug in his clawed hands.
“Species recognized by the Intergalactic Alliance do not break this law. It falls under Interdiction Protocol. Your species is not advanced enough to have joined, so you have certain protections.” A pause. “But I crashed here.”
His voice had gone flat. Measured. She recognized that tone—the one people used when they were holding something back. She let it go. She wasn’t exactly about to explain why she was out here alone either.
“Wait.” A grin tugged at her mouth. “So you’re an illegal alien. Like, literally.”
Maelic raised a brow. “I… suppose? I did not plan to come here. But regardless, I am stuck until I can get my ship’s data comms operational.” He bowed his head, those long white locks shifting with the motion. “I thank you for your assistance, female.”
Female. Okay then.
“So how many other species are out there? How many worlds?”
“Many.” He waved a dismissive hand. “So many I could not begin to name them all.” His gaze sharpened on her. “You are handling this much better than X-Zone species usually do.”
Delaney barked out a laugh. “Oh, trust me. I’m freaking out on the inside.”
She really was. This was impossible. All of it.
“Wait, you crash landed.” Her eyes narrowed. “Did you damage some of my trees?”
Then the rest caught up. “Is that why you were so out of it last night? I really thought you were going to kill me.”
Maelic’s antennae drooped. His face pinched with something that looked a lot like shame. “I truly apologize for that. It was beyond unacceptable. I believe it must have been my body reacting to… the adrenaline of the crash.”
Right. Sure.
“As long as you don’t try to eat me again.” She nodded, letting it slide. He wasn’t being fully honest, but she wasn’t going to push.
Maelic’s eyes went wide. “I did not try to eat you.”
“Uh-huh. Okay.” She stood and carried their empty mugs to the sink. The window above it gave her a full view of the property, and what she saw made her stomach drop. The snow was raging. A full-on storm, white and furious, swallowing everything. She frowned.
“I don’t know about your species, but for us? This weather is dangerous. I don’t think you’ll be able to get to your ship.”
The words were out before she could second-guess them. Her gaze dropped to her crudely bandaged hand that he had outfitted earlier outside. He had been so gentle and kind. She couldn’t kick him out.
“Why don’t you stay here? At least until the storm passes.”
Maelic inclined his head, something unreadable flickering across his face. Then he nodded. “If you would find that acceptable, I would be very much in your debt.”
“I couldn’t send you out there right now.” She glanced toward the window. “It looks brutal.”
She shifted her grip on the counter and winced. The cut pulled against the makeshift bandage. Maelic’s gaze dropped to her palm, and his antennae flattened.
“That needs proper attention.”
“It’s fine.”
“Do you have a medkit?”
She almost argued. But the look on his face said he wasn’t asking.
Somehow she ended up on the couch in the living room while Maelic crouched in front of her, treating her wound like it was his personal mission.
It wasn’t even that bad. Just a shallow gash.
But she still winced when he applied the antiseptic.
“Does it hurt badly?” He frowned, gentling his grip like she was something fragile.
“No. I’m just being a baby.”
“It is okay to show pain, little human.” He huffed and finished wrapping the fresh bandage.
“Sure, but it’s not like I’m dying.”
When he was done, she told him to wait and headed toward the downstairs bathroom to put the first aid kit away. She paused in the hallway, her gaze catching on the entry.
Wait.
She turned back, frowning. Something nagged at her. She walked over to where she’d hung her wet clothes earlier and her heart stuttered.
One glove. Just one, hanging on the hook. A little worn but clearly handmade.
No. No, no, no. Hot tears pricked at her eyes. Why are you always so careless?
She was already yanking on her coat, shoving her feet into her boots. Maelic appeared in the doorway, alert. His wings shifted as he scanned the space behind her for a threat.
“What is wrong?”
“I left my other glove outside.”
He stared at her. “It is merely clothing. You said it yourself, it is too dangerous for a human to be out in this.”
“I have to get it. I have to.” Her voice cracked. “My grandma made them for me, and she—” She shook her head and reached for the door.
Maelic caught her arm. Firm, but not rough. Something in his gaze shifted though. “Absolutely not.”
“You can’t tell me what to do.”
“I will go.”
She stopped.
His wings shifted. “It is cold, but my species would not die in that storm. And the fence is not far. I will be able to follow your scent to find it.”
She wanted to argue, but the stubborn set of his jaw told her she wouldn’t win this one. “Fine.” She turned and dug through the coats by the door until she found Grandpa’s old one. He’d been a big man. Barrel-chested. It might actually fit.
Maelic eyed the jacket like it had personally offended him, but Delaney didn’t budge. He shrugged it on. It didn’t button, and the sleeves hit mid-forearm. His wings bunched awkwardly beneath the fabric.
“I will be fine without it.” He pulled it off and handed it back. Before she could protest, he opened the door. Cold air rushed in, biting at her skin, snow swirling into the entryway.
“Stay here.” His red eyes met hers. “I will be right back.”
And then he was gone, swallowed by the storm.