Dvalinn underground world. A woman was heading for him.
Ignoring the pain in his head, Elijah braced himself for whatever attack she
planned. Before she reached him, though, a body came flying through the air and
tackled her to the ground. The Dvalinn male who held her down looked up at him.
He appeared to be about the same age as the woman, in his early twenties, but
since Dvalinn lived for hundreds of years, Elijah didn’t make the mistake of
underestimating the danger. There was no softness in the hard brown eyes.
He tensed, waiting for their next move. There was no logic
to their first one. If the female Dvalinn was coming to harm him, why had the
man stopped her? If the man wanted to hurt him, why had he tackled the girl?
Elijah watched them carefully, adrenaline surging through
his bloodstream, preparing him for flight or fight. It had better be fight, he
thought grimly, because the room didn’t offer any opportunity for escape. He
pulled himself up into a sitting position, back against the wall, muscles
primed, ready to spring into action.
“Nieko, let me up.”
At first the words, uttered in the woman’s velvety voice,
didn’t make any sense to him. The cadence was strange and his brain wasn’t
expecting it. But then he realized that apart from the first word, probably a name,
he could understand. Whoever these people were, they spoke a version of
English. Her accent was unusual but intelligible.
He waited in silence for whatever came next. The man got to
his feet, pulling the woman with him. He kept a firm grip around her waist but
he glared at Elijah. “You’re human.”
Elijah couldn’t tell if it was a question, a statement or an
insult. Perhaps all three. No way was he saying anything until he knew how much
trouble he was in.
“What are you doing here?” the man growled.
Elijah remained silent. As if he’d tell them he’d come to
wipe out their entire race. Way to get real dead, real quick.
The man’s free fist clenched and he growled, “I want
answers. You can give them voluntarily or I’ll…”
“You’ll what, Nieko?” the girl interrupted. “Hit him?
Torture him? For someone who claims to despise human beings, you’re quick to
use the kind of threats I’d expect from them.” She stuck her chin in the air.
“He was hit on the head. He’s not going to leap up and attack us.” Offering
Elijah a smile, she asked, “What’s your name? Do you remember how you got
here?”
She sounded concerned. Maybe she’d missed the memo telling
her she was one of the bad guys. Her companion, although uncannily good-looking,
at the moment looked angry enough and tough enough to have a fair chance of
success if he decided to tear Elijah’s arms and legs off. Lije had no trouble casting him in the role of enemy to humanity.
He had to stop the questions before he gave anything away.
He latched on to the excuse the woman offered him. If he convinced them he
couldn’t remember… Short-term memory loss was a common enough symptom of a blow
to the head.
He put his hand to his forehead and looked around blankly.
“Where am I? Who are you?”
“See,” the woman said. “He’s not okay.”
“Doesn’t make him any less dangerous,” the man replied.
“I’m not dangerous,” Elijah said. He rubbed his hands across
his face, faking confusion but always keeping his eye on the two people in
front of him. “I don’t know how I know but I know it’s true.” He heaved out a
loud sigh. “I don’t know where I am. I don’t know why I’m here and I don’t know
who you are. The last thing I remember I was at Stonehenge in England.” He
stopped for a moment. Time to see what he could get away with. “My name’s
Elijah, Elijah Denton. I was on vacation in England.” He added a final touch of
to the fiction he was building. “I don’t understand. Am I in hospital? Are you
doctors?”
He doubted if they would fall for that one. No one in their
right mind could mistake the man’s lean,
Ignoring the pain in his head, Elijah braced himself for whatever attack she
planned. Before she reached him, though, a body came flying through the air and
tackled her to the ground. The Dvalinn male who held her down looked up at him.
He appeared to be about the same age as the woman, in his early twenties, but
since Dvalinn lived for hundreds of years, Elijah didn’t make the mistake of
underestimating the danger. There was no softness in the hard brown eyes.
He tensed, waiting for their next move. There was no logic
to their first one. If the female Dvalinn was coming to harm him, why had the
man stopped her? If the man wanted to hurt him, why had he tackled the girl?
Elijah watched them carefully, adrenaline surging through
his bloodstream, preparing him for flight or fight. It had better be fight, he
thought grimly, because the room didn’t offer any opportunity for escape. He
pulled himself up into a sitting position, back against the wall, muscles
primed, ready to spring into action.
“Nieko, let me up.”
At first the words, uttered in the woman’s velvety voice,
didn’t make any sense to him. The cadence was strange and his brain wasn’t
expecting it. But then he realized that apart from the first word, probably a name,
he could understand. Whoever these people were, they spoke a version of
English. Her accent was unusual but intelligible.
He waited in silence for whatever came next. The man got to
his feet, pulling the woman with him. He kept a firm grip around her waist but
he glared at Elijah. “You’re human.”
Elijah couldn’t tell if it was a question, a statement or an
insult. Perhaps all three. No way was he saying anything until he knew how much
trouble he was in.
“What are you doing here?” the man growled.
Elijah remained silent. As if he’d tell them he’d come to
wipe out their entire race. Way to get real dead, real quick.
The man’s free fist clenched and he growled, “I want
answers. You can give them voluntarily or I’ll…”
“You’ll what, Nieko?” the girl interrupted. “Hit him?
Torture him? For someone who claims to despise human beings, you’re quick to
use the kind of threats I’d expect from them.” She stuck her chin in the air.
“He was hit on the head. He’s not going to leap up and attack us.” Offering
Elijah a smile, she asked, “What’s your name? Do you remember how you got
here?”
She sounded concerned. Maybe she’d missed the memo telling
her she was one of the bad guys. Her companion, although uncannily good-looking,
at the moment looked angry enough and tough enough to have a fair chance of
success if he decided to tear Elijah’s arms and legs off. Lije had no trouble casting him in the role of enemy to humanity.
He had to stop the questions before he gave anything away.
He latched on to the excuse the woman offered him. If he convinced them he
couldn’t remember… Short-term memory loss was a common enough symptom of a blow
to the head.
He put his hand to his forehead and looked around blankly.
“Where am I? Who are you?”
“See,” the woman said. “He’s not okay.”
“Doesn’t make him any less dangerous,” the man replied.
“I’m not dangerous,” Elijah said. He rubbed his hands across
his face, faking confusion but always keeping his eye on the two people in
front of him. “I don’t know how I know but I know it’s true.” He heaved out a
loud sigh. “I don’t know where I am. I don’t know why I’m here and I don’t know
who you are. The last thing I remember I was at Stonehenge in England.” He
stopped for a moment. Time to see what he could get away with. “My name’s
Elijah, Elijah Denton. I was on vacation in England.” He added a final touch of
to the fiction he was building. “I don’t understand. Am I in hospital? Are you
doctors?”
He doubted if they would fall for that one. No one in their
right mind could mistake the man’s lean,
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