She looks directly into his eyes. “You drugged me. Made me feel helpless. Told me in no uncertain terms you would rape me. And I hate your face. Not for that but because such beauty only belongs to one male. So, I will make sure you never look like Var again.”
She uses my shortened name so often, I shouldn’t notice that she does it deliberately in front of my family. And it shouldn’t send the same thrill through me that it does each time she uses it.
With a quick pop, she reaches forward and it’s done. The tip of her blade produces an eyeball, bloodied strands hanging off the back end so it doesn’t even look round. Auglesh opens his mouth to scream, but my father steps forward and covers his mouth. He grunts and shudders instead and his empty eye, bleeding profusely, begins to swell shut.
Leviton is still as a mouse when she turns to him. Negan tilts her head, her eyes hollow. I’ve never seen her in full Blackheart mode, but I fully understand the terror they bring. My father was a fool to play with these clans. To try to force an alliance.
“You told me you would never allow me to carry Varguk’s baby to term. That you would fuck me until it ran from between my legs. You made me scream. You will never hear me scream again.”
She strikes just as swiftly as she did with Auglesh, her blade angling down the side of his face, taking a braid and… his ear.
But she’s not done.
She turns the blade and pops it in, twists for good measure, and then does the other side.
My father does the same for Leviton that he did for Auglesh. He saves his son’s cock from being cut off by covering Lev’s opened mouth with his beefy hand while his ruptured eardrums bleed down his neck.
Negan bends down, uses the tip of the blade to pick up the ears, and puts that in Brachard’s box. Then she turns, wipes the blade, and hands it back to her godfather.
Who calmly kisses her forehead like she presented him with baked cookies instead of bloody lumps of flesh.
She returns to my side and I pull her close to me with an arm around her shoulders.
“Andhispunishment?” King Agor asks, looking at me. “He is to remain a prisoner of your clan?”
Probably I hardly look like one with my arm around the most beautiful female in the village.
Brachard shrugs. “Aye. ‘Tis a lifetime sentence taking care of that vicious one. He failed the first time so he has the rest of his life to get it done right.”
Epilogue
Negan:
A MERGING OF TWO clans was never supposed to happen. From what the elders have said, those who remember our own planet, our own reality, it would never have. Not in our own world, the world that we were flung from the day the portal opened and swallowed our people, spitting out Earthlings onto our land instead.
Often, I wonder about what happened to those peoples. Did those originals survive? Like us, did they merge with the community? I guess we’ll never know.
“Daddy!” Oshila, named for my father, screams for Varguk as her grandfather chases her. “Save me!”
Var sweeps our toddler into his arms as she looks back over her shoulder at my father, who doesn’t hesitate to step in and blow raspberries into the softness of her neck. The sound of baby giggles fills our ears.
“Here they come,” Cherovi says.
A sharp whistle pierces through the new town. It’s a merged place, in the center of all our lands. It stretches from Blackheart territory, down to Serenity, the land where our partner humans begin, encompasses Solaya, even stretches down to Creede. All our lands are merged and free for our people to visit and roam as one. We’re a united community of various cultures and people, all determined to live and growin safety and numbers. And if a village goes wrong, the way things had in Granby so long ago when my Aunt Joanna lived there? The others step in to make it right again. There is no discord among the Utees, or United Territories.
King Jacovi and King Brachard arrive first, followed by as many others who wish to enjoy the weeklong celebration. We hold it annually to allow everyone to visit each other in the annual reunion.
“Aye, there’s my dollface!” Brachard bellows, kissing my forehead quickly before holding out his arms to Var for our little one. And then I’m distracted by a horn from the trail of carriages that park.
“Vin, quit honking that blasted thing!” Grunalda yells.
Queen Aga is the first to emerge from the carriage, and helps out a very pregnant Shalia. Her mate, Bakog, follows behind the caravan of carriages on his steed, and he’s dismounting as fast as the carriage doors open.
And with Oshila giggling on Grumpy’s shoulders, he and my father hug.
“Come on, Brachin. Let’s go find your pals, eh?” Jacovi says, smiling a greeting at his sister, Cherovi, and holding out his hand for Oshila’s twin brother, who peeks shyly from where he hides behind Cherovi’s legs. My son, named for Grumpy Brachard, is attached to his Grandmum, but he holds out his pudgy hand for Uncle Jacovi.
All the other little boys follow behind King Jacovi, trying to remain somber in rows behind him, playing royal guard. They’re so adorable with their cardboard swords and Blackheart gear, even though half of them are West Mountain droplings. Long ago we discovered how dirty little boys get and the Blackheart leather is easier to wipe barbecue sauce from, so none of the fathers balk at the boys dressing up.
