Callie's Catastrophe: Icehome Book 9 Read online

  She nods, her expression thoughtful. “It makes sense. The romantic in me just can’t believe I’m going to end up alone.” Steph sighs and picks up another coconut from the beach. “Should we see what’s inside these?”

  “Might as well. If it’s a giant almond, it’ll give me another thing to be thankful for.” And I smile at her.

  Already I feel a bit better. Five things to remind me that life’s not terrible.

  Surely I can do five things a day.

  2

  CALLIE

  Singing.

  That’s something I’m grateful for. I fight back a wince as one of the sa-khui aliens lifts his head and makes an unholy sound that should be singing and makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up instead. I’m sure it’s beautiful if you’re used to it, but it’s definitely taking me some getting used to. Even so, I’m grateful to hear it. If someone’s singing, it means that they’re trying to celebrate, finding a reason to bring joy to the rest of us.

  I’m down with that.

  So I smile at the big blue guy and nod politely as he continues his song. If there are words, I don’t know them and the translator doesn’t pick them up. It reminds me of home, though, of Spanish songs and old uncles sitting around and singing to children during a backyard barbecue, and it makes me ache in good ways. Ever since I talked with Steph, I realized she was right—that I’m depressed. Since there’s no therapists here or prescription drugs, I have to fix my brain myself. I’ve been working all day on thinking of things that I’m grateful for, no matter how big or how small.

  It’s not that easy to fix depression, but I’m trying.

  It’s turned into a silent game for me, and one I’m enjoying far more than I thought I would. So I listen to the alien sing and I’m grateful for his song that brings smiles to the faces of others and makes Flor giggle behind her hand. When he’s done, everyone claps politely and stomps their feet, and his compatriots slap his back as if he’s done well, so I’m sure he did.

  “Great job,” someone calls out, and I put my fingers to my lips and whistle appreciatively.

  Heads turn at the sound of my whistle, and one of the sa-khui leans in to study my mouth, agog. “How did you make that noise?”

  “Me? Oh…” I shrug and put my fingers to my mouth again, whistling. The sound is shrill and loud. “It’s just something I do? Mi papi showed me how to do it.”

  The hunter—Rokan—leans in and watches me with fascination, trying to mimic it, but his fangs get in the way. Another pushes him aside—Hassen—and studies my face, determined to learn. He tries to do his best, only to come to the same problem. He’s all fingers and fangs, and just ends up making a raspberry noise between his lips which makes me crack up. Then Flor’s giggling louder, and Sam, and then the entire camp is nothing but laughter as everyone tries—and most fail—to whistle like I did.

  It feels good to laugh. The whistling attempts make me laugh so hard that my sides ache, and then someone challenges us humans to sing a sa-khui song. For the next while, Flor and I both try to learn the haunting, crooning songs but it’s obvious we can’t hit the notes they do, which amuses the hunters to no end.

  Doesn’t matter—we’re all having a great time. For the first time since I landed, I’m starting to feel human again. I’m starting to feel like Calida Hoyos once more. Transplanted, sure, but the same person I ever was.

  Hassen drops into the seat next to me once more, and I clutch the cup of tea in my hands, mindful of the hot liquid inside. “Show me the whistle once more,” he says. “I know I can learn it. I want to show my mate when I get home.”

  “Let’s wait until the singing’s over,” I say, nodding at Cashol, who’s very into the strange song he’s bellowing out. I don’t want to be rude. As soon as Cashol stops, though, Zolaya starts.

  Liz—the mate of Raahosh, one of the big blue aliens—puts her hands over her ears. “I swear, you guys really are the worst. You couldn’t hold a tune in a bucket, Zolaya.”

  I gasp at her rudeness, but when Zolaya just grins in a sly way, I realize he’s singing badly on purpose—punking us. I erupt into laughter, and so do the others. Are all their songs bad because they’re teasing us? Can they secretly sing better than the strange songs we’ve been politely enduring all night? Liz would know.

  Vektal jumps to his feet while the laughter ripples through the camp, his face grim. Two others do as well. Someone gasps.

  “What is it?” Sam whispers, moving to my side fearfully.

  I shrug, unsure.

  The chief turns to Aehako and gives him a grim look. ”Watch the females,” he says in a low voice, then gestures for Zolaya and two others to follow him.

  Everyone goes silent. A few of the hunters scramble to join their chief as he disappears into the dark, heading toward the beach, and others grab their spears and guard us. It’s tense and awkward, and I stare into the darkness with the others, wondering what it is that Vektal’s found on the beach.

  “You think something washed up on shore?” Sam whispers to me, worry in her voice.

  “I don’t know. I’m sure they’ll tell us soon.”

  Sam nods and shrinks closer to me. Aehako stands in front of both of us, his big body blotting out our view, but Sam seems to be edging away from him, too. Her happy, laughing mood is gone and I feel like an ass for being short with her earlier today. It’s clear from her posture that I’m not the only one getting over some shit, so I put a comforting arm around her shoulders and hold her close, as if I can protect her with determination alone.

  There’s a low murmur that ripples through the group, and then I hear voices.

  “Hi, honey, we’re home!” Lauren’s voice is thready and soft, just barely heard over the crashing ocean.

  “It’s Lauren,” Nadine calls out. “Holy shit. She’s alive!”

  “And there are many others with her,” Aehako says in a low voice.

  “Others?” I question. “Like who?”

  My heart races. I don’t want it to be my family, but at the same time, I’d give anything to see my mother or one of my cousins emerge from the darkness. My pulse pounds in my ears, so loud that it seems to be shaking my innards. I push away from Sam and Aehako, even as Angie makes a delighted sound and waddles forward, arms out to hug a wild-looking Lauren.

  Then others rush forward to hug Lauren, and I approach, too. I’m happy to see Lauren again—thrilled, actually—but more than that, I’m craving the sight of additional human faces. I don’t want to see family. The odds are against it. But I still push forward, desperately looking for familiar faces. I see a sea of unfamiliar alien faces…and Marisol. While I’m happy to see Mari and Lauren, I’m still disappointed.

  When they said there were many others with Lauren, they meant alien others. Not human others.

  Of course it wouldn’t be my family. Of course not. I’m relieved and hugely disappointed at the same time. I glance over at Lauren, trying to contain my disappointment and hide it behind a smile. Five things to be grateful for, I tell myself. One—Lauren. Two—Marisol. Three…new faces. At Lauren’s side, a large pale blue alien holds her hand tightly and watches us with a wary expression. I’ve never seen him before, and I gasp when he puts a hand on Lauren’s shoulder and three others remain at his side.

  Dude’s got four arms.

  Hijo de puta.

  “This is K’thar,” Lauren says, indicating the strange alien man at her side. “He’s my mate.”

  That brings another flurry of conversation, and then everyone’s talking at once. The blood rushes in my ears as more of the strangers move onto the shore. There’s rafts of wood being dragged onto the beach and aliens with big horns, aliens with beards, and even a four-armed baby. It’s surprisingly difficult to concentrate. I feel…stressed. My pulse is still racing, throbbing in my ears like a drumbeat.

  As I stare at the newcomers on the beach, my pulse pounds louder.

  No…wait.

  It's not my pulse. It's some
thing else.

  My hand goes to my throat, and then…lower, to my breastbone. Underneath it, right where my heart is, something's shivering inside me, like it's purring. It's not a nice, sweet, kittycat purr, either. It's an angry, insistent purr that demands attention.

  Oh no. This…can't be.

  One of the newcomers shoves ahead of the others. He's wearing a few skins, but they fall to the ground as he pushes forward, revealing pale blue skin and a sweeping set of horns. His face is hard, his eyes flinty, and he'd be handsome if he didn't look so mean. He scans the crowd on the beach and I know with a sick feeling in my gut that he's looking for me. I just know it.

  I stand there, horrified, with my hand on my chest as I realize I'm looking at my mate.

  Resonance has chosen for me. This is just like what happened with Veronica and Ashtar—the moment they had their khuis, they resonated to one another. Now that I'm face to face with a stranger, our khuis have decided that we're supposed to be together.

  I stare at the man. Alien. Whatever. I try to imagine his hard, lean face smiling. I try to imagine him laughing. Instead, all I see are the heavy black brows, the hard jaw, and the scowl on his lips.

  And…I can't do it.

  Our eyes meet for a second—just one—and I see recognition in his. He knows it’s me.

  I take a few steps backward, grateful when two of the sa-khui hunters push past me and begin talking to the newcomers. My translator chatters in my ear but I don't listen to any of it. I don't want to know a thing. I just want to get out of here.

  I want to hide.

  So I turn, ducking down so I can't be seen amongst the crowd of people, and retreat into the shadows. My khui—cootie, as Liz calls it—is so loud that I feel it's pointing a big, noisy beacon to where I am, but I don't give a shit. I'm still going to hide. Maybe it'll stop once he sees a few other women. Maybe he's just got an overeager cootie. Sure, that can happen, I tell myself. I race through the camp, past the fire and the seats there, past the entrance to the women's cave where we've been sleeping for the last month, past the cluster of tents of the sa-khui, and pause.

  I need a hiding place and this is a beach. There aren't many places to hide.

  My gaze locks onto one of the new outhouses that were built. It's not more than a bone-and-leather structure that shivers in the slightest breeze with a stool over a hole to do the dirty work, but it beats squatting on the ground. It's also got a roof, and that'll do. I want to duck into someone's tent for a moment, but that feels wrong, so I push aside the outhouse flap, flip the leather tag to the side that has BUSY stitched onto it, and hold my breath, waiting.

  It stinks in here. Smells like shit and piss, and I can't stop gasping for breath. I press my hands over my mouth, willing my body to relax, but I can't. I just keep hearing the insistent purr of my khui as it sings in resonance to the hard-faced alien stranger. Who is he? Why is he here? Why did Lauren bring new people to this beach? Judging from the surprised look on Vektal's face, they're not from his tribe. Is…is he going to make me leave?

  Am I going to have to start over again?

  Fuck no.

  The thought explodes out of me with near violence. Fuck that guy.

  I'm not going fucking anywhere. I clench my fists, suddenly furious. I didn't choose this. I didn't choose any of this. I didn't choose to be torn away from Earth and wake up in a strange, cold place. I didn't choose to live on a frozen beach for the rest of my days, exiled from everything I've ever known and loved. I sure didn't choose to “mate” with a stranger. That means we're as good as married in his eyes—all because some noodle-shaped bug in my chest decided I need to make a baby with that cabron?

  Fuck that. Fuck all of this.

  I'm tired of being powerless and afraid.

  Fuck being grateful like Steph suggested. I'm angry. Seriously angry. The universe has put me through so much in the last month and now it's going to stick me with this shit? It's completely unfair. I—

  I go still as footsteps crunch in the pebbled sand nearby and I can hear the harsh breathing of a person a short distance away. I press my hands to my mouth again, willing myself to be silent. To stop gasping for air. For my cootie to shut the fuck up already.

  My skin prickles as the world goes silent and I can hear the faint purr of his khui.

  It's him.

  The stranger.

  My mate. I swallow hard, bracing myself. At any moment, he's going to bust through this outhouse and…what? Grab me? Declare me his alien bride? I will pelt that motherfucker with so much shit, so help me god…and then I smother a hysterical laugh at the mental image.

  More footsteps crunch.

  "Brother? Where do you go?" It's an unfamiliar voice, deep and curious. My translator gets to work, analyzing the words in a thick accent.

  "You saw her, did you not?" says a hard, flat voice. It sends a chill up my spine. I know who that is. Of course my mate is the unpleasant-sounding one. Of course. "The one I resonated to?"

  "You resonated?" The other man is shocked, his tone filling with awe. "What a lucky gift, brother. Which one?"

  A man grunts. "A dark-haired female."

  "Like L'ren?"

  "No. She is squat."

  The…fuck did he just say?

  Did that motherfucker call me squat? My teeth clench and I fight back a feeling of rage. Calm it down, Calida, I remind myself. You can lose your shit later. Right now you just need to stay out of his way until he resonates to someone else.

  "I saw no squat female—"

  "She was. Short. Round. A face like leather."

  I bite back a gasp. I mean, I know this winter weather is hard on my skin but leather? What the fuck?

  Footsteps crunch again and I brace myself, knowing that I've been found out. He must have heard my gasp. Sure enough, the leather drape that acts as a door to the outhouse is yanked back and the alien man pushes his face inside.

  I immediately grab it back and jerk it from his grip. “Oye comemierda, do you mind?” And I pull it shut again.

  There’s a long moment of silence. I remain still inside the outhouse, wondering if that will work. Wondering if he will leave now that he thinks I’m taking a shit.

  “Female.”

  His flat voice cuts through the night and I fight back a wince of irritation. “What?”

  “Are you unwell?”

  For a second, I want to tell him that the sight of him gave me the shits. That maybe I resonated to the poop stool instead of his sorry ass. I settle for a “I’m busy” and leave it at that.

  He pauses. Then, “Finish taking care of your needs and we will talk.”

  Oh, will we? I scowl at the imperious tone of his voice. I already hate this guy. Squat, leather-faced woman indeed. If he thinks I’m going to fling myself into his arms and declare myself in love, he’s got another thing coming to him.

  3

  M'TOK

  Resonance. Of all the hunters who stand on this strange, frozen shore, I resonate at the sight of the cluster of hyoo-mans who come out to greet K'thar's mate L'ren and T'chai's M'rsl.

  I am the luckiest.

  It has been fifteen turns of the seasons since I have seen an unmated female. The last one I saw was I'chai of Clan Strong Arm, but she quickly resonated to another in her tribe. Clan Tall Horn had no surviving females after the death of the Great Smoking Mountain. We would die without a mate, my brother S'bren and I. A fragment of our tribe was left after the disaster, but no females and no hope.

  Then, R'jaal returned from a hunt one day with M'rsl in his arms. He told a story of how he'd pulled her from a giant black egg that washed up on the shore, and how K'thar had stolen the other female away because he'd resonated to her. This one had not yet resonated, and so we all hovered over her, waiting and watching and hoping. I remember seeing M'rsl's skinny face and strangely colored skin and thinking she was the ugliest creature I'd ever seen. She had no horns, tall or otherwise. No tail. Her body was small and fragile…and I st
ill would have gladly taken her as my mate.

  Any of us would have.

  But when she opened her eyes, she looked right at T'chai and they resonated to one another, and that answered that.

  It was only after K'thar brought his female to visit M'rsl that it occurred to us that there might be more females. And when the remains of the Great Smoking Mountain rumbled as if it were going to spit fire on what was left of our once-magnificent island? K'thar's idea to leave seemed like a sound plan, even though he was of the hated Strong Arm clan. But R'jaal is my chief, and he envied T'chai his ugly M'rsl. And T'chai was dying, our small clan shrinking smaller still. So we journeyed on rafts for many days as the island smoked and spat fire behind us and eventually died once more.

  Now we have landed on the strange, cold shores of L'ren and M'rsl's people and a sea of strange faces look up at us even as M'rsl sobs and clings to T'chai's weak form. Someone makes noises about a healer, and S'bren says something about helping bring T'chai somewhere, but I am lost.

  All I hear is the thunder in my ears of resonance, my khui drumming a strong beat and calling to its mate. I study the faces of the cluster of females on the beach. They are all short, without the graceful height of a Tall Horn female, and in a variety of shapes and sizes and skin tones. As I scan their strange features, my gaze lands on a female. Our eyes lock.

  I know it's her.

  My first impression is that she is short and rounded, her body covered in furs to keep her warm. Her face is an odd shade, like the warm, rich light brown of tanned leather. I take a step forward as she ducks behind the crowd.

  S'bren grabs my arm. Says something.

  I shake him off and look for my female again. The khui is singing so loudly that my entire body seems to shake with it, and I feel alive for the first time in fifteen turns. I ignore my brother, striding forward into the cluster of females on the beach, looking for the leather-colored face of my female. She is gone, though, and I continue to push through the strangers' camp, looking for a hint of her. I see a flash of fur disappear into the shadows and a hint of movement up the beach and follow it.