Chapter Six
Her father’s voice pulled Cloudy out from under her fatigue. “Hey, Dad. Not unconscious. Just resting against a guardian, as one does.”
He snorted and eased his tone. “I haven’t seen you this burned out since Nargaway.”
“That takes me back.” She chuckled.
“So you have been outed?”
“All the way.” She sighed. “Why aren’t you at the pub with Mom?”
“She wanted to see how hard you had to hit him to make a hole.”
“Ah.”
Hazor chuckled. “So violent women are in the family?”
“Stubborn and direct. It is worse than violent.” Thunder touched her wrist and took her pulse. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I just dumped a week’s worth of accumulation on this guy, and he caught fire.”
Hazor caught it. “Accumulation?”
Thunder smiled. “She’s people-powered. That is why she takes work close to people yet not touching them. She consumes goodwill and turns it into stun blasts. It was a light zap when she was a child and became stronger when we were in the caravan.”
Hazor frowned. “Caravan?”
“The survivors travelled from scattered encampments toward the pickup points. Cloudy kept us fed and strong, and together, the rest of our community and we arrived here with minimal losses.”
Cloudy winced when her father ruffled her hair. “This little one kept our spirits up and managed to find some food for everyone every day.”
She looked at Hazor and shrugged. “It became a habit when I learned that I could get energy from them.”
Hazor looked to Winthrell. “Run that as well.”
Winthrell nodded. “Of course. It is the first thing we should have done.”
She blinked.
Winthrell asked, “Did they cover any designs on you with the pigment?”
“Um, yes. Bands on my forearms that I didn’t remember getting. It was a wild few years.”
Winthrell scrambled on a tablet, and a screen showed her naked with a tribal lightning bolt around each of her forearms and a matching set around her thighs. The marks were in the form of burn scars and only visible when the zoom was applied.
Hazor blinked. “Tracer marks?”
Thunder asked, “Is that a weapon?”
“No, they were security for assessors.”
She sat up. “What?”
“There were beings marked that way, and their energy manipulation was similar to yours. Stunning, not killing,” Hazor murmured.
She laughed and ran her fingers over the covered marks. “Yes. That seems to fit the bill.”
“You can turn it up to kill,” Winthrell said.
Cloudy said, “I am betting they could as well. It just wasn’t advertised that they could kill with a touch. Hazor, I can stand on my own feet now. Maybe even get dressed in regular clothing.”
Hazor smiled. “I like the webbing.”
“Shut it, perv.” She checked her levels and patted his chest. He let her down.
She stood and swayed. Her father caught her. “Cloudy, you okay?”
“I took it to the limit without the soundtrack.”
He smiled. “Your mother was worried about this.”
Cloudy pointed to herself. “This? Or this?” She pointed at Hazor.
Her father laughed. “Yes.”
Hazor was still flickering with psychic flame. “I believe Vecchin will be interested in an analysis of your skills and your effect on me.”
“Well, have fun spending time with Dr. Winthrell. He looks like he has cold hands.” She smirked.
Hazor laughed, and the doctor snorted.
Cloudy said, “Right, well, I need to get dressed, and then we need to go eat. I have burned a ton of calories.”
Hazor grinned. “I am being dismissed?”
“If it is you or a meal right now, the meal goes in my mouth hands down.”
He shook his head.
Thunder groaned.
Dr. Winthrell said, “Fine. Go for the night. I may call you for additional testing.”
“Yeah, good luck with that.” She got her clothing and tried to peel the webbing off. “How does this stuff come off?”
Winthrell removed the monitor pods from her head, and then he drew a safety blade and was about to slice when there was a tug, and her spine got a lot colder. She squawked, and Hazor was looking at the claw on his index finger. He smirked.
“Butthead,” she muttered in English.
She put her tunic on the suspension bed, pulled her arms free of the webbing, kept everything pinned to her chest, and pulled the long tunic on. When it was down, she peeled off the rest of the webbing and handed it to Winthrell. “There you go. A souvenir.”
He nodded. “We will use these measurements to make you a suit.”
“I don’t need a suit.” She pulled on her trousers and put her shoes on.
Her father hugged her again. “Come on. Let’s go to dinner. Your mom is going to want to make sure you eat right. You rarely eat right.”
Hazor frowned. “But she works with food.”
“People who work with food rarely eat what they are cooking. We wear it on our skin and smell it in our sleep. We actually eat trail mixes and a variety of other stuff during the day until we can head home and have someone else make us food.”
Hazor laughed. “I had never thought about it.”
“You don’t have to. Doc, are we done?”
Winthrell nodded. “We are. For today.”
She linked arms with her father. “Come on. Let’s go see what Mom can throw together.”
“We are going to the Fired and Iced Pub.”
“I know, but Mom is going to do the ordering.”
She nodded. “Night, Hazor. Have fun burning that off.”
His eyes flared. “You know that I can just take you out of here.”
“Yes, and I can hate you for the rest of your considerable life. So, pick your poison.” She fluttered her lashes.
Her father chuckled, and they left the lab, walked down the hall, and headed out into the night air. She inhaled and exhaled slowly. “No joking. I am starving.”
He nodded. “Good thing the Fired and Iced is just down the street.”
“Tell Mom to start ordering.”
He lifted his com and said, “Food is a go. Gogogo.”
Her mother called affirmative, and they kept walking.
* * * *
Hazor asked, “How serious do you think she was about hating me?”
“Does she have to work in the morning?”
“Yes. Her partner ran afoul of some thugs.”
“Right, so she would hate you. Her body would ache and burn, and moving would be hell, or so my wife has said after my rut,” Winthrell said wryly.
“Ah. Damn. She works all days except one.”
“Then you had better pick her up before her day off and hope she doesn’t engage in sports. If you are in town.”
He snorted. “Mother came by to meet her today. I believe she was impressed. Father certainly was. They like her food if nothing else. I think Dad is addicted to vegetables. It’s astonishing.”
“Veg—is this regarding the food stall at the docks?”
Hazor grinned. “That is her business.”
“Damn. I have a few patients who work there. Their health has taken a remarkable upturn in the last few years. They don’t even resent it.”
Hazor smiled. “I have had the food. It’s good. It’s like shredded henvor or zak fish and a bunch of slivered shredded vegetables fresh from the market. It is savoury and sweet, and if you are daring, you can get it spicy.”
“Interesting. What are the hours?”
“From what I gather, six in the morning until five in the afternoon. They take the seventh day off.”
“And they are working tomorrow?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. I will investigate. I am always interested in a new place to take Dr. Avengil.”
Hazor looked and saw the genuine interest in the doctor’s face. He laughed. “Ask for extra akko. It will surprise you.”
He left and checked his com for a path to the pub. He wanted to check on Cloudy, and socializing with her family seemed a good start.
* * * *
Cloudy stepped into the pub, and there was a shout of welcome. She laughed, and her father led her to the table in the back, which was rapidly filling with items from the menu.
The server came by with a loaded tray and laughed. “Cloudy, you look like hell. Got a few Siloven eggs here. They are new. There was a lot of disgusting taste-testing, but we ended up with a decent egg that is biosafe.”
“Wow. That is quite the advertisement.”
“I know, right. The locals are going nuts for it.” Bess grinned.
Cloudy looked at Bess’s arms, and she saw the flame marks around her forearms. “Uh, cuz, I think you are going to get a call from the assessment centre.”
“Why?”
“Because despite your lovely lowland Vecchin markings, I can see the birthmarks on your arms, and I am betting that you have some on your thighs as well. Mine were lightning.”
“Uh-huh. Did they cook you today or something?”
“Little bit. Those markings are leftovers from some kind of alien bodyguard, you know, before biblical times. Heck, given our family lineage, they might have visited the Incas or Aztecs.”
Bess smiled. “Or Olmecs.”
“Them too. The assessors wanted to check on how Ra was doing, and apparently, some of them missed the clue that he was in Egypt.”
Bess paused as she set another dish on the table. “I am guessing that he has wings?”
“First-gen Hmrain all have wings.”
“Then, you really think he stayed in one place?”
Cloudy blinked as she grabbed a handful of fries. “Shit. I didn’t think of that. The fuckers can fly.”
Her mother tutted. “Language.”
“I just spent over an hour getting drained by one of them and proving that I am actually hiding a few things, including energy weapons.”
“Draining? Oh, dear. Have some juice.”
Her father chuckled. “She’s got a suitor. He’s determined, and the last time I saw him, he was on fire.”
Her mother was stroking her hair, and her hand froze. “Tall fellow, Hmrain eyes, some kind of white flame flickering around his head? Armoured bodysuit? Two buddies? Caused the pub to go quiet.”
Cloudy looked up and went, “Fucking hell. Good thing you got a table for six.”
Her mother said, “You aren’t going to dismiss him?”
“Nope. I am way too tired.”
Hazor walked to her side, lifted one hand to his lips, and smiled. “Miss Cloudy, it is such a surprise to see you again so soon.”
“Yeah, colour me shocked. He’s fucking persistent.” She picked up one of the sausage-wrapped eggs. She bit into it and smiled at the familiar flavour. “It’s good. How long until I can ask what kind of eggs?”
“Give it six months.” Bess nodded.
“Oh, that bad. I think I know what it is.” She shrugged and kept eating.
Bess laughed and looked at the guardians. “What do you three want?”
Hazor wisely said, “Do you have a menu?”