He grunted as she rammed her elbow into his gut, and as he sucked in a wheezing breath, she slammed her heel into his thigh. The blow itself wasn’t why he dropped to the floor but rather the hidden blade that shot from her heel, activated by the intentional wiggle of her large toe. The blade had a sleeping agent as well just in case a slice wasn’t enough. He went down and stayed down.
Judging by the garbled yelling, she still had two more to go. The idiots didn’t learn by example but stuck around.
She ducked just as a meaty fist swung overhead. The training to move quickly came in useful, or she’d have been knocked into the next galaxy. Before the fist could rewind for a second shot, she popped up and pulled two more blades from her thigh sheaths.
Jab. Thrust. She drove them into two of the three thighs. When Buurg yelled, “You stabbed my dick!” she realized she’d missed one of the legs, making her briefly wonder—How the hell did he figure it would fit?
It was a good thing he wouldn’t get a chance to try. She pulled her blades loose, the edges wet with brilliant blue blood. She made no sound of warning as she pivoted and lightly tossed them at the last target. They landed with meaty thuds, embedded to the hilt.
The corpulent alien glanced down at them, and one of his eyestalks developed a twitch. A tentacle grabbed the knife and pulled it free as a dark green ichor leaked.
But the alien dude didn’t fall down. Rather he grinned from a spot around his middle, his entire torso splitting open into a huge mouth. The smile didn’t reassure.
Someone rushed her, slamming their shoulder into her body, the impact lifting her off the ground and thudding her into a wall.
For a moment, all breath escaped and she saw stars and a long bright tunnel. Her feet dangled off the ground, and Clarabelle wondered if this was how she would die.
Like Hell. She was too young to give up.
Rage had her sucking in a breath. She coiled herself in preparation and kicked the alien with the fetid breath in the balls. Giant balls, she noticed, big and heavy enough they hung in the crotch of his pants.
As he gasped and loosened his grip, she twisted, hit the ground, and in the same motion pulled another knife and jabbed it into a swinging pendulum. She preferred to not think of what was in the white juice that jetted. The more important point being her assailant hit the ground in time for her to flip and see the mouth-belly alien opening wide.
She snarled, “Are you really that stupid?”
He was.
By the time she was done and stood over him, knives dripping, he had a few more mouths in the form of slashing wounds.
Clap. Clap.
Seriously? Was she not done yet?
She looked up to see a rather large cloaked figure standing just outside of the spray of blood, gloved hands slapping together. In appreciation or challenge? She couldn’t tell their intentions, nor even what race they were given their features were hidden by a hood.
“Move along,” she snapped. “Nothing to see.” Meanwhile, she took note of her used daggers. If she tossed the pair in her hands, she’d need to rearm herself, as she’d run out of blades unless she could use the one in her heel again.
“You fight well.” The deep voice held a hint of accent despite the auditory translator she used. Male? He certainly had a deep timbre, but that meant nothing in the galaxies.
“If you add ‘for a girl,’ you’ll learn just how well,” was her grumbled reply.
“Why would I insult you?” He sounded surprised by the very idea.
“Because that’s what everyone likes to do when they see a human.” The other favorite thing involved trying to acquire her. Apparently, humans had some value as slaves.
“Human?” He repeated the word as if it were strange. “I am not familiar with your kind. From what system do you hail?”
“The Earth one.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Probably on account we’re supposed to be protected and alien dudes aren’t allowed to touch it.”
“Yet here you are.”
“You know what they say about the forbidden fruit,” she muttered, moving sideways while watching him. She retrieved a blade and sheathed it.
For the moment, he appeared content to talk.
“Actually, I don’t know. None of our fruit has been banned.”
She blinked. She still forgot how the common expressions she took for granted often didn’t translate. “It means telling someone they can’t have something only makes it more tempting.”
“On my planet we like to say, covet at your own peril.”
“Which is more the Earth equivalent of ‘touch it and die.’”
“Do you have many such edicts?”
She didn’t understand his interest. “What do you want?”
“What makes you think I am in need of anything?”
“Because you’re talking to me,” was her blunt reply.
“You’re intriguing.”
“And not interested in becoming your property. If you try and take me, I will eviscerate you.”
The low chuckle raised the hairs on her body. “I would never force you to do anything. But Karma might.”
“Who is Karma?”
“Not a goddess to mess with,” he muttered.
Her snort held some disdain. “You aliens and your religion. I thought it was bad on Earth, but even out here, you believe in the impossible.”
“Your Earth has no gods?” His query held genuine curiosity.
“Depends who you ask. Some think there is only one god, and they like to fight the ones who claim there are many.” The blade she withdrew from quivering flesh showed the edges corroded by the acidic blood. Dammit. She cast a quick glare at the body at her feet. When it dared to move, she kicked it.
“We only have one goddess meddling in our affairs, which is quite enough.” He spoke as if she were real.
“Good for you. Happy worshiping and all that. If you don’t mind, I have somewhere else to be.” The incident with the bullies hadn’t yet drawn untoward attention, but she shouldn’t tempt bad luck.
“Where do you travel?” he asked.
“As if I’m going to tell you,” Clarabelle uttered on a snort as she collected the last of her blades and strode in the direction of the ship’s dock.
“Your caution is admirable, but unnecessary.” He kept pace with her, his cloak billowing and yet never revealing any limbs.
How many arms and legs did he hide under there?
“Where are you going?” she countered.
“Now that I’ve completed my task? Back to my home world.”
“What kind of task?” she asked before she could stop herself.
“I was sent to find my mate.”
The answer startled enough that she stumbled. “You went hunting for a wife? How’d it go?”
“Different than expected,” he replied.
“Congratulations?” she ventured. She cast a glance at the large figure, curious now as to what hid under the fabric.
“Are you mated?” he asked.
“Nope.”
“Pity,” he muttered. “That might have offered reprieve.”
“Meaning what?” She whirled and glared at him. “Are you implying I shouldn’t have a husband? That I’m not good enough?”