Sinth Salvation - Pearl Tate Page 0,3
crawl space. “Excellent! That means you can have some of this!”
Pulling out a bundle of taffy, I watch Eva’s face light up. Like every little kid in the world, she loves sweets. I’m going to spoil her rotten after being gone for the last year.
It was so hard to leave her here after my Aunt’s funeral, but I didn't have any legal recourse to get her removed. If they didn’t find my Uncle Gunnar at fault for my aunt’s death, there’s no way I could get custody. He certainly wouldn’t give her up since it makes him look incompetent.
“Can I have the lilac piece?” As I unwrap the long, swirled taffy lengths, she leans her weight against my knees, vibrating in place.
“Of course, go ahead. Let’s just grab a napkin from the kitchen so you can clean your sticky hands afterward, and I’ll call my father to let him know I’m staying here for the night.” I’m already stepping over my suitcase to the kitchen as Eva chatters behind me, clapping and singing under her breath.
I’ll be damned if I let my Uncle Gunnar break her spirit like he did my aunt’s. Margret always put on a positive face, even when her eyes were practically swollen shut from his fists.
I’m not sure exactly how I’m going to pull off getting him to agree to let Eva live with me … but the first thing I’ll do is look for the closest rental to their place. It won’t be easy since they live on a large plot of land without much around them, but I can start in the neighborhood around her school. What better excuse than being closer to school?
Stroking her silky flaxen hair, I set her up at the table with the piece of taffy. Her eyes widen as she takes her first bite. “Mmmm,” she hums as her lips tilt up in a smile.
“Mmhm,” I smile back before turning to pick up the phone. No matter what, I’ll protect her—even from her own family.
CHAPTER TWO
- Nikon
“Jaxtyn? Jaxtyn, if you can hear me, answer me please.” My voice sounds whiny, even to me. Letting out an exasperated huff, I relax onto the strange bed. Every night, despite the apparent futility, I try to reach Jaxtyn, my Sinth squad partner, on the interdimensional communication device implanted in my head.
If Jaxtyn’s within range, he’s sure to hear me. Although, I think of all the times I’ve ignored requests while I was in my personal dimension. That’s one of the best things about being a Sinth. He doesn’t even have to hear my begging communications if he’s deactivated it on his end.
Personally, I’m not super surprised he’s disappeared. I’ve been tempted to make myself scarce here on Earth too. But there’s something about this planet … and I’m not willing to give up—or in—to the Wen virus yet.
Intent on expanding their resources and making a name for themselves, the Fakel have joined the space exploration sector recently. As residents of the planet Kaa, along with the Wen, the Fakel are immune to the virus, and they have even trained the Wen as resource detectors. Before we realized what they were doing, they’d contaminated three level two planets—and those are the ones we’re aware of! Even though we’ve never seen a planet make it through an exposure to the Wen virus, I’m not ready to walk away from Earth, the most recently infected planet, and let those intergalactic pillagers come in to pick through the planet’s resources.
I’m sure that’s why Jaxtyn’s taken off. But there’s something about this new area that we’ve been relocated to … I can’t explain exactly what. But it keeps me grounded and able to perform as a Sinth Guardian every day. There’s no explanation for it, but that’s how I feel …
I’m almost ready to pull up Payak’s recap for the Sinth Sovereignty on my Sinth Central Hub when a tiny Human device, called a cellphone, rings from my hotel room’s nightstand. I don’t recognize the number, but that’s not surprising. The numbers mean nothing to me. It’s only been about six of the Earth’s daily rotations since the rudimentary device was assigned to me. I was assured it’d help me blend in with the locals while I analyzed the contamination pattern. Since then, it’s only rung twice.
“Hello?” My tentative greeting mimics what I’ve seen on the television while staying in hotel rooms as I’ve traveled and interviewed family members of the Wen-exposed.
“Nikon, it’s Payak.” The familiar voice