The Bubble

The UES Avant Garde decelerated as it approached the salvage freighter. The SF Malcolm Reynolds had been emitting a distress call for several weeks and United Earth Space Command had dispatched the UES Avant Garde to investigate. Captain Rick Castle stood watching the viewscreen while the drones scanned the Malcolm Reynolds’ hull for damage. Castle, a career military officer, was a stickler for following protocol. He listened for any changes in the message sent by the Malcolm Reynolds. None came. Once the drones completed their survey, Castle would order the Avant Garde to dock with the Malcolm Reynolds. Down below, a boarding team was assembling.

Corporal George Kirk grabbed tightly on the overhead rings and pulled himself off the deck, swinging his legs into position to insert himself into the bottom half of his battle armor. Above his head, a highly focused beam of light awaited interruption. Once he was satisfied with his position in the lower half, he raised his arms above his head, breaking the constant beam, and triggered the lowering of the upper half of the armor. The gloves responded to the movement of his fingers as he initiated the release from the lowering harness. He could hear the pneumatic seal engage connecting both halves of the armored suit. The heads-up display activated as he lowered his arms and disengaged the supports for the lower half of his armor. He stepped back off the platform and turned to face the three other Marines that would accompany him onto the distressed vessel.

The four Marines marched out of the compartment and down the corridor toward the docking hatch. The rest of the boarding party watched from the interior corridor as the unit slowly marched down the gangway toward the Reynolds. Cpl. Kirk tapped gingerly at one of the controls within his glove checking the status of the suit’s weapons. The electrostatic discharge weapon had a full charge. The suit’s plasma cutter had a fresh pressure cannister installed. Fortunately, the hatch on the Reynolds was still operational and responded to a Bluetooth request to unlock and open. The four Marines entered the airlock and waited for the compartment to pressurize before opening the inner hatch. Cpl. Kirk audibly sighed. “Would you mind sharing your thoughts with the rest of us, Kirk?” Sergeant Zoe Washburn asked.

“Yes, Ma’am. I’m just relieved that there is atmosphere on board.”

“As are we all, Corporal. I want you to search aft. Take Devlin with you. McCall and I will search the forward area. Keep your weapons hot, just in case.”

Cpl. Kirk nodded. When the hatch opened, he and Cpl. Devlin slowly proceeded down the corridor toward the back of the cargo ship. The bulkheads had long ago lost their sheen. Grease streaked across peeling paint and the corridor lights barely provided any light. Fortunately, Marine battle armor possessed bright lights to handle dark places. At the end of the corridor, Kirk and Devlin discovered a mechanical hatch. At first it resisted their efforts to turn the wheel, but after increasing power to their armatures, they were able to unlatch the door.

Upon pulling open the hatch, Kirk and Devlin found the mummified remains of one of the Reynolds’ crew attached to the railing of the catwalk. Upon reaching the steel ladder, they climbed to the uppermost catwalk and inspected the compartments. Finding no survivors or corpses, they descended to the cargo deck and began an orderly search of the area. The Reynolds’ crew had sectioned off the aft section of the cargo deck. They needed a security code to pass through the airlock between the inner and outer areas. George Kirk stared at the number pad scanning for organic residue on the keypad. The heaviest concentration was on four digits. He smiled as he punched in his first sequence. Eight – six – two – four. The airlock door popped open. Pressing the lock button would seal the door once inside. They would need the same code to return.

Devlin poked Kirk. “How did you know the code?”

“Civilians are so predictable. They want something easy to remember, so they use a four-digit code in a pattern.”

At the second hatch, Kirk repeated the scan and punched in a new set of numbers. Nine – three – one – seven. The outer airlock door opened. Kirk and Devlin stepped through. Red light flooded the chamber as the ship’s power systems re-engaged. Sergeant Washburn’s voice stopped the two men in their tracks. “Kirk, Devlin, report.”

“We’re still standing. Encountered one deceased crewmember. Entered the aft portion of the cargo bay through an airlock. There’s something down here that you have to see to believe. Do you need any assistance, Sergeant?”

“No, Corporal, we have a handle on things. I’m clearing this ship for E-suits only until we can figure out what killed the crew. Can you transmit an image of what is down there?”

“Transmitting now.” Kirk pressed a few pressure switches inside his suit. An image of what he was looking at went live on everyone’s helmet monitors. A giant bubble filled the entire aft cargo compartment. Colors swirled on the surface of the seemingly transparent and empty orb. Kirk estimated that the bubble was roughly one hundred meters in diameter. Kirk sent Devlin to the starboard lift while he headed portside to make a video record of the object. Despite the bubble’s seeming transparency, Kirk could not see Devlin nor could Devlin see him as they ascended to the uppermost catwalks.

As Kirk and Devlin crossed the central walkway, they noted that none the cargo bay’s loading cranes supported the bubble. They completed their video survey and returned to the inner cargo bay area to make a second sweep of the bay. Then they secured samples from the body of the deceased crewmember for analysis before heading to the forward area of the ship. They deposited the samples in an orange bio-hazard bag which Devlin taped to the interior bulkhead of the passageway as they passed by the hatch.

The four remaining members of the boarding party picked up the samples on their way forward to meet with Sergeant Washburn. She had ordered the group to assemble on the observation deck just below the bridge. While waiting, Cpl. Kirk copied Cpl. Devlin’s video recording of his starboard ascent and played it back in split screen with his own portside recording. He made a mental note to obtain copies of all log entries regarding the object.

Sergeant Washburn and Cpl. McCall arrived shortly after the engineering and medical specialists. “Cpl. McCall and I have just finished reviewing the ships logs. Two weeks ago, the Malcolm Reynolds encountered an anomalous object and brought it on board. Before then they were experiencing normal operations. We’ve transmitted copies of the log back to the Avant Garde per Capt. Castle’s orders. Capt. Castle wants us to log everything we see and do. Vocalize all your thoughts. Do you think you can manage that, Kirk?”

Cpl. Kirk blushed. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll make sure to do all my thinking out loud from now on.”

“That goes for all of you. Hold nothing back. Every observation, even if seemingly trivial, may help solve this mystery.”

“Sergeant?”

“Yes, Corporal?”

“I’d like access to all log references to the object.”

“Any specific reason?”

“Obsessive curiosity, mostly.”

“Very well. Captain Castle has assigned the task to you of figuring the thing out.”

Cpl. Kirk focused his attention on the incoming information while Sgt. Washburn handed out the rest of the assignments. The log showed a silvery ball floating in space. The captain of the Malcolm Reynolds ordered the crew to retrieve the object. They moved their meagre cargo into the forward area of the cargo bay, then they installed the isolation shield and brought it on board. After they sealed the outer hatch, an assessment team went in to determine if the orb had any value. The ship’s geologist took a core sample for examination by the assay lab. “Note to self – check assay lab for sample and assay results.”

The Assay Lab was in disarray. Several of the testing devices had experienced catastrophic failures. The assay technician lay on the floor, or at least what remained of him. Cpl. Kirk reported the corpse to Sgt. Washburn before proceeding with his survey of the damaged lab. He made his way to the back of the lab and pulled the data cards from the auto-logger. There was no guarantee that whatever caused the damage to the lab equipment hadn’t corrupted the data. He secured the remainder of the sample from the x-ray fluorescence spectrometer and took it with him to the BioMed Lab.

Cpl. Kirk stood in the open doorway of the Biology Lab watching the bustle as the three specialists analyzed samples taken from the dead freighter crew lining the hallway. He waited patiently for someone to take notice of him. Dr. Carson Beckett nearly walked into him before stopping. “Is there a problem, Corporal?”

Cpl. Kirk looked down at the woman standing in front of him. “I brought a sample to be analyzed. I think it’s organic, possibly living material. I just need confirmation.”

Dr. Beckett was intrigued. “If you’ll step aside, we can run your sample after I secure one from the hallway. Deal?” Cpl. Kirk nodded and backed up against the hallway bulkhead. He watched as Dr. Beckett shoved a large needle into a corpse and withdrew material from inside the body. She capped the needle and motioned for him to follow her to her station. Kirk tried to stay out of the way while he followed Dr. Beckett. He watched while she split her sample between the gas chromatograph, the mass spectrometer, and the automated bio-chemical analyzer. “Now, about your sample,” she said holding out her hand to receive it.

“I only want it tested by fluorescence spectrometry. It was the only undamaged device in the geology lab. I have the result of the geological assay. But now I want a biological assay done and the results sent to me. For your safety, please do not run any other tests on it.”

“Fine,” Dr. Beckett grunted while wiggling her fingers. “No other tests. But I still need the sample.”

Cpl. Kirk handed the sample vial over to Dr. Beckett and left the lab. His shift was almost over and Captain Castle was a stickler for observing the rules. He made his way back to the Avant Garde, arriving slightly ahead of his fellow Marines. He stepped up onto the platform and locked the lower half of his armor in position. Raising his arms and twisting his wrists unsealed the upper half and raised it above his head. Grabbing hold of two hand grips to the side of the platform activated a dumping mechanism that literally dumped him out of the lower half of his armor. Once he and his body armor were upright, he removed items that he had tucked inside various compartments of his “iron pants”.

Off to his right was a spiral staircase that led to an overhead walkway. From the walkway, he had access to the storage compartments in the shirt and sleeves of the body armor. He gathered every bit of data that he had obtained while on board the Malcolm Reynolds. From the upper walkway, he exited the armor room into a small ready room where he sank into his seat while waiting for the remaining members of his cell. Once the others had settled into their seats, Sgt. Washburn signaled that the cell was ready to debrief. Cpl. Kirk slipped the memory cards from the Geology Lab into slots in the arm of his chair as well as the cards with his visual records. From there, he transferred the information to the data core of the Avant Garde’s central computer.

Cpl. Kirk paid little attention to the 2^nd Lt. on the screen. He was busy trying to integrate all the gathered information into a cohesive timeline. The few words of interest to him were “light armor” and “full rotation”, especially the latter because his stomach was starting to grumble and he needed to use the head. He closed the app on his comm-link and folded it up just as the word “dismissed” hit his eardrums. Outside the ready room, Kirk entered a stall and contributed a fair amount to the water purification system before hanging up the vacuum hose. Back in the locker room, he changed from his thermal regulating body suit into his service uniform. While he was pulling up his green trousers, he felt something tapping against his back.

“You left this in the latrine, Corporal.” Kirk turned to face Sgt. Washburn, while zipping up his fly. She was holding his comm-link up to his nose.

Kirk reached up to take his comm-link. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said smiling.

“That’s Sergeant Ma’am to you, Corporal.” She released her grip on his comm-link and winked at him.

“Yes, Sergeant Ma’am. I will try to remember that in the future.”

Sgt. Washburn laughed and walked away while Kirk pulled on his boots. He was the last arrival in the mess, but someone had already filled a tray of food for him. Eating their meals together was a ritual. It was part of maintaining cohesion and trust within the cell. Everyone in the cell ate in silence, not wanting to think about the carnage on board the other ship. Kirk was too deep into the mystery of the sphere sitting in the Malcolm Reynolds’ cargo bay to manage a relevant conversation. By the time he finally poked his head up, he found that the others had left him behind to clear the table.

It would be another fourteen hours before Cpl. George Kirk could return to the Malcolm Reynolds, eight of which he would spend sleeping. He walked past the rec hall, or what passed for a rec hall for the Elite Marine Combat Unit assigned to the Avant Garde. He stopped then executed a one-eighty and went inside to the only Advanced Resistance Exercise Device not occupied. After spending several hours in heavy armor having your arms and legs moved for you by powerful servos, it was a good idea to remind them that they still functioned. He flashed his dog tag at the ARED’s scanner and it automatically set the resistance. The other marines had chips implanted, but his had a failure record of one hundred percent.

Sgt. Washburn kept a close watch on Kirk while he performs his reps on the ARED. Even after finishing her own workout, she stayed behind to watch him finish. She couldn’t figure out why a guy like him would want to be a grunt. He was smart. He could have been a scientist, a researcher, or even an officer. Instead he was the team “can opener” equipped with cutting tools and high voltage spark generators. She wasn’t sure if that was because the brass was afraid that he would hurt his teammates or himself if he carried real weapons. She could tell from the look of concentration on his face that he was trying to let go of his latest obsession – and failing miserably. “Care to talk about it?”

Cpl. Kirk paused his workout briefly. “I wouldn’t know where to begin. I have so many questions and all the answers are back on that ship.”

“So, go back.”

“I can’t. You know the rules. Mandatory personal time, then sleep.” Kirk pulled the wire ropes forward simultaneously so hard that you could hear the pistons’ complaints.

“But Capt. Castle gave you special dispensation in this matter to investigate the orb you found,” Sgt. Washburn reminded. Cpl. Kirk released the ropes and sat down on the bench behind him. She continued, “Where does it specify how or where you spend your free time?” Sgt. Washburn made her final pitch. “You can take me with you if you don’t want to go alone.” Ten minutes later, Kirk and Washburn were suiting up in light armor.

The scientists had gone back to the Avant Garde for a break, leaving the lab equipment alone to do their work. The two Marines had just entered the airlock when several fast-moving objects streaked by in the direction of the cargo bay. For a few seconds, the Malcolm Reynolds blinked out of existence then became solid again. After recovering their footing, Cpl. Kirk ran toward the BioMed Lab arriving just as the floating debris began to settle. He made his way to the x-ray fluorescence spectrometer and retrieved the sample. The scientists had divided it up and subjected it to other tests. Kirk could tell which tests they had run by the damaged equipment that he found. He pocketed the remainder of the sample and pulled the auto-logger card. Just as he was ready to leave, Sgt. Washburn arrived at the lab with Dr. Beckett.

“What have you done to my lab?” Beckett demanded.

“Nothing. You did this. I told you to only run one test and nothing else. You divided the sample and ran tests that I didn’t ask for. Forget using the Geo Lab. I found the sample in the only machine that didn’t suffer a catastrophic failure. Now, get out of my way.”

Sgt. Washburn pulled Dr. Beckett aside then followed Cpl. Kirk down the hallway to the Cargo Bay. “What was that all about?” she asked while he opened the hatch to the inner bay.

“I think that the bubble is alive. And I’m going to give it back what we took from it. I asked for a biological assessment using a single piece of equipment. I should have stayed and waited, made sure they didn’t do something stupid.”

“They were following their rules of investigation. Did you tell them why they shouldn’t run any other tests?”

“No. I didn’t.” Cpl. Kirk pulled open the hatch, walked to the ladder, and climbed down toward the cargo deck. Once he was clear, Sgt. Washburn slid down after him. He punched in the numbers to the first airlock door and moved quickly to the second. Washburn closed the door behind them while he stabbed at the number pad to the second door. She gasped when she saw the bubble floating in the aft portion of the cargo bay. It looked like the ball from a snow globe with colors swirling inside. “The short exposure to space must have frozen the outside. It was more fluid on the outside before.” Kirk pulled the sample from his suit pocket and opened the vial. He tipped it toward the orb. When it didn’t move, he pushed the vial forward giving the sample inside enough inertia to leave the vial when he pulled it back.

The small sample slowly drifted toward the globe spreading out along the glassy surface before slowly integrating with it. Cpl. Kirk smiled. “I’m sorry,” he said. He turned to Sgt. Washburn. “We need to let it go.”

“How do we do that?”

“We need to open the cargo bay door and use the net to eject the bubble. But first we need to locate the controls.”

“I grew up on a space freighter. The loading bay control room is over the main bay doors, which means that we have to climb.” Cpl. Kirk followed Sgt. Washburn over to the closest ladder and followed her up to the top level. Once inside the control room, she opened the bay doors and pushed the capture net out of the bay. The orb remained where it was. She rotated the net and lowered the support arms to their lowest position. When she retracted the net, it slid inside underneath the bubble. The slow movement of the netting from the floor to standing vertically in the rear of the aft cargo bay compartment nudged the slowly freezing bubble out of the cargo bay. Once it had cleared the bay and was a safe distance away, Sgt. Washburn closed the doors.

Back aboard the Avant Garde, Cpl. George Kirk sat at a table with Sgt. Zoe Washburn, Dr. Carson Beckett, and Capt. Richard Castle. Capt. Castle glared at Dr. Beckett. “One more time, Dr. Beckett. What exactly did Cpl. Kirk ask you to do?”

“Cpl. Kirk asked me to run a test on a sample that he found in the geo assay lab.”

“Which test?”

Dr. Beckett shifted in her seat. “He requested fluorescence spectrometry of the sample.”

“And?” Capt. Castle prodded.

“He said that I shouldn’t do any other tests, just that one.”

“Did you ask him why he didn’t want you to run any other tests?”

“No. I was busy trying to find out what killed the crew of the Reynolds.”

“And yet you took it upon yourself to run more than the single test that he had asked for.”

“The sample looked interesting. I didn’t see what possible harm could come from running a few extra tests.”

Capt. Castle turned his attention to Cpl. Kirk. “In your own words, Corporal.”

“Yes, Sir. Sargent Washburn sent me aft toward the cargo bay with Corporal Devlin. We found a dead crewman in the forward section of the bay. The aft section was airlocked with a security code, but it was easy to crack the codes. Inside the aft bay, Devlin and I found a large object that looked like a giant soap bubble. Devlin and I took video of the object as we scaled the cargo bay ladders. From the way some of the colored swirls seemed to follow us, I sensed it was watching us.”

“When Sarge declared the ship hostile free, we collected a sample from the deceased and went forward to help Sarge and Devlin finish searching for crew. When I entered the Geology Lab, I saw that something had destroyed most of the assay equipment. The only piece of equipment that wasn’t badly damaged was the fluorescence spectrometer programmed for inorganic material analysis. I took the sample up to the Biology Lab to get a second opinion. I wanted to know if it was alive.”

“Because I was antsy about the results, Sarge suggested that I go back and have a second look, see if the tests had finished. We arrived at the airlock in time to see bits of matter whiz past. A little while later the ship winks out. If we hadn’t been suited, we would have frozen to death. There was a bit of frost on our suits when it went solid again. That must have been what killed the crew. I took the sample back to the bubble and Sarge and I set it free. That’s the gist of what’s in my report, Sir.”

Dr. Beckett’s eyes widened. “Aren’t you going to ask him any questions?”

“No need, Doctor. It’s all in his report. Every detail you could ask for. All three thousand pages of it. What he saw. What he thought. What he did. Descriptions in great detail. Corporal Kirk is extraordinary. That’s why when he asked to investigate the bubble, I put him in charge. His mind doesn’t work like ours. He may have limited social skills, but his brain processes information on a level we can’t begin to imagine. We used to look at people like him as disabled. It took a long time to recognize his “disorder” as an evolutionary step forward.”

The Alliance (Don't Kill the Messenger)

I don't know why I picked the title I did for this little writing exercise. I'm trying to work on character development, so not much plot, but as usual, there is still a twist. Feel free to not like it.

The Alliance

In the midst of a well-ordered forest, suspended between two trees, stood a circle of woven branches now bare in the waning days. To a visiting Mundane, it was little more than an oddity in the woods. but to the locals, it was a gateway from the world of Arcane.

Elspeth Hunt, chosen by the elders to meet the Arcane messenger, was studying the wooden circle wondering how the magic worked. She wondered if it had something to do with the darkening days as the snows closed in on the bough. Beneath her hooded cloak, she carried a short sword and a knife. It was her skill with the sword that convinced the elders to select her to greet the messenger. She had arrived earlier while the sun was still high in the sky. The Arcane was late.

A white stone triangle lay against the black rock wall of an ancient volcanic cone. Behind it lay a portal to the world of the Mundane. Dylan True kept close to the rock wall as he approached the gate. He had taken great pains to disguise himself against attack from the creatures that lived within the sacred circle. On his head, he wore a carved wooden helmet that hid most of his face. Grapevine clung to the caked dung that covered his body. There was a scabbard hanging from his waist on his right side and a long knife strapped to his left thigh. He carried a full quiver of arrows on his back. Worried about what awaited him on the other side of the gate, he used his longbow to test the ground before stepping through into the forest.

Elspeth watched the beast sniff the air and slowly approach her where she waited unafraid. His taloned fingers reached out and ran gently down her cheek. She grimaced at the stench emanating from them as they curled beneath her chin. At first, she averted her gaze from the monster. “Look at me,” it growled. Elspeth responded with a defiant stare. Through the mask over his face she could see the yellow pallor of his skin and a pair of amber eyes that stared back studying her face. His sudden loud sigh was disconcerting. Elspeth reached for the short sword that she had hidden beneath her cloak. She was not dying without a fight.

Dylan released her chin and stepped back from the female they had sent to greet him. His voice croaked as he spoke. “Bah! They send a child to receive my warning. No one will hear it. We know how little Mundane men value the words of their youth and less so the words of their women. Go home, child; but be wary of the thieves and butchers who await you down the path.” Dylan turned and walked back to the gate. He turned again, paused to watch her as she walked down the path.

Suddenly, Elspeth turned and came running back toward the gate. Behind her, three men gave chase, but she managed to stay ahead of them. Dylan raised his bow and loaded an arrow. Taking careful aim, he felled one of the men. Elspeth turned moments before one of the men caught her and thrust her sword into his gut, twisting it as she drew it back out. A moment later a crossbow bolt whizzed past Dylan’s head striking a nearby tree. He grabbed Elspeth around her waist and carried her through the gate just as a second quarrel hurtled toward the open circle.

On the other side, Dylan set the writhing female down. “It’s not safe to take you back the way we came. Those men would kill us both. Nor can we stay here. If a Draugr catch the scent of you, you will be meat for its next meal. Come with me to a safe place while we find a way to warn your people of the danger.”

“I’m not a child. I can defend myself.”

“Back there? They would have killed us both and blamed me for your death. And here? You’ve obviously never faced a Draugr. They are lanky beasts full of teeth and talons. They would be on you before you could draw a sword or I nock my bow. Everything avoids them that can.”

“You’ve well described yourself, except for the leanness.”

“Your eyes deceive you,” Dylan said just before dragging Elspeth through a narrow opening in the rock face and smothering her with his horrid stench while pressing her back against the stone wall. She slid her hand down to the hilt of her sword, but gasped into his hand at the sight of the long snout sniffing the niche for prey. It felt about with one of its clawed arms before abandoning the cleft. After it gave up its search, Dylan led her out and away from the stone gate they had come through. Glancing back, Elspeth saw the creature crawl through into her world.

“We have to go back,” she struggled against his grip, attempting to pry his fingers loose from her wrist.

“We can do nothing for those men in the forest.” Dylan snarled. “And if we go back, we might die with them.”

“You could have closed the gate.” Elspeth was reaching for her sword as she spoke.

“I have no control over the gate. It will close in its own time. We must be at the next gate when it opens. If you want to save your people, you must trust me. I am not the beast you think I am. The Draugr will come back through that gate soon and if we are still here, it will attack and kill us. Please, come with me.” Dylan offered his hand.

Elspeth shook her head. “Go. I will follow.” Dylan took off at a slow run toward several large boulders. Elspeth followed close behind him managing to scale the rocky slope without losing her footing. At the crest of the hill, they followed a narrow path that wended its way through a dense woodland. A downward path led them to the base of a waterfall, where they stopped.

Elspeth watched from the weir while Dylan waded into the mere. He left behind a trail of muddied water as he closed in on the falls, soon disappearing into the rushing water. On the other side, he appeared in a small settlement. He disappeared inside a hut where he changed out of his wood and leather armor and wet clothes into dry clothes. He left the long bow and sword behind and after a brief conversation with another of his kind, he returned to the area behind the falls.

Elspeth started to run along the embankment toward the waterfall, when a stranger appeared. His teal blue garb clung to his tall, well-muscled torso and he wore strange ornaments on his forearms. Except for his yellow complexion, his amber eyes, and his cinnamon hair, he looked like a Mundane. Elspeth saw that he carried neither sword nor bow and sensing no threat, she approached him where he stood. At first, she stood silently within a few steps of his face, then feeling bolder, she asked, “have you seen a beastly creature? He entered the falls a short while ago. We were travelling together.”

Dylan watched from the rocky ledge that led to a passage beneath the waterfall as his companion ran up to where he stood. He stayed silent, assessing her speed and her intent. He almost broke into laughter over her question, but managed to stifle the impulse. “Who are you?” Elspeth stepped back. She had not expected his question and shuffled her feet trying to decide whether to answer or run away. “Well, child, do you have a name or not?”

“El...El...Elspeth,” she stuttered before recovering her poise. “I am Elspeth Hunt, Emissary of the Mundane. My companion was an emissary of the Arcane. Have you seen him? Can you take me to him?”

Dylan stepped down off the ledge. “And if I cannot?”

“Then I am lost,” Elspeth fingered the hilt of her sword. She considered threatening the stranger, but relented. “Please help me get back to my world. The gate is with a large stone circle that lies beyond the woods.” She pointed back the way they had come. “My family will be worried about me.”

“Oh, I doubt that. They sent you off on a dangerous task to meet with a stranger in the woods when they knew there were men who would attack and kill you. I’d say they weren’t expecting you to return at all.”

Elspeth grimaced at his words, then slowly it dawned on her. “How could you possibly know that unless you were there?” She stepped forward until she was staring up his nose. “Who are you?”

Dylan gripped her shoulders and laughed. He stared down into her eyes and smiled, waiting for her to step back. “I am your beastly creature, having shed my costume, and I have come to take you safely home, but only if I can trust you to keep silent.”