Meh. Not too long a chapter or exciting a chapter, but better ones are coming up. This is almost done. Three or four more chapters? My job do be exhausting. Now that the weather is starting to suck, it can only get worse. It started snowing today, which means no nice warm Halloween. I'm pretty much obsessed with General Grievous right now. He ranks right up there with Darth Vader and Darth Maul as cool Star Wars villains. He can kill people with his feet. XD I wish I could kill people with my feet! DEATHBYFEET! Yeeesss… The Clone Wars cartoon isn't too bad, though I can't see all the episodes because I won't pay forty bucks online for that privilege. I posted a picture of M'yin-de up on DevArt, so check it out. The link is to my DevArt account is posted on some other chapter, but I'm too lazy to re-post it. I'll give five bucks and a human soul to whoever figures out the movie they watched. (promise will not be honored) Anyways, thank you to Nez, Bastet1023, Lord Azrael and StormRaven333.

C'jit: Damn.

Tarei'hasan: Unworthy opponent, small insect.

Chapter Ten

Kemiri sighed happily and scrunched himself down a bit further into Deborah's wonderfully squashy couch. He put his feet up onto a footstool, made of blue leather like the couch. He shifted his arm down from the couch back to around Deborah, who lay beside him, head resting on his chest, arm on his stomach. They were watching a bizarre movie. The plot was rather hard to follow for Kemiri, but there seemed to be a great deal of not unpleasant singing, dancing, men dressing up in traditionally in traditionally female clothing and sex. It wasn't too bad; though Kemiri was sure he would like it better if he was more fluent in English. Oh well, sitting here with Deborah was lovely too. The movie ended far too quickly. With a sigh and an arching stretch that reminded him of a Kainde Amedha, Deborah sat up. She smiled lazily at him, hair pleasantly messy.

"It good. I liked it. Why did they all dance in such strange clothing at the end?"

Deborah giggled, "I don't know. Maybe they were brainwashed into doing it? I don't know about you, but I think that Brad actually enjoyed that." Kemiri shrugged. Walking to the window, he peered out at the darkness, watching the cars driving by below. She had such a good view up here. This building was taller than most around it so he could even see the roofs of the surrounding buildings and beyond. The roofs… Kemiri narrowed his eyes, his powerful vision picking out a heat-blur on the one directly across from them. It moved, darting away. That was no heat wave. His heart froze. They were looking for him. That scum must have told and now he was the hunted. Luckily, they hadn't found him yet and probably didn't even know what his heat signature was. If they had, they would be on him already. What he had to do was keep well-fed and warm and act as much like an ooman as possible.

"Nice view, eh?"

"Yes…" he murmured distractedly. He glanced over at a digital clock, the red symbols reminding him of Yautja glyphs. "It late? You work. Must sleep."

"Yes, mother." Deborah replied sarcastically. "What about you?"

"Yes. Me too."

"I thought you were visiting?"

C'jit. She was clever, even when sleepy. "For long time. Need to work to live. Want address?" he asked, hoping to distract her from asking about his 'job'. He had studied the numbers on Edan's house and street, comparing them to other addresses to make sure he got the right one. He had to get away from the woman, to keep her safe.

"OK! I'm just going to go find a sticky note and a pen." She walked off into the kitchen, grinning broadly. He heard her rummaging around in a drawer, muttering to herself. Soon, she produced a post-it and a pencil. Kemiri took them and began writing his name. "What's that?" Deborah asked, leaning over his shoulder to get a better look.

"My name… Uh…" He hurriedly scribbled it out, feeling heat rise in his face. He was writing in Yautja. Carefully, he wrote in ooman in large block letters, forming each letter with the sort of care only children and those uncomfortable with the written word took. Finishing, he handed it to Deborah and squeezed her awkwardly in a hug, watching his preternatural strength so he didn't accidentally crush her. He started to pull away, when she turned to face him and put her arms around his neck.

"Don't be such a boy scout." she whispered and pressed her lips to his. A jolt ran down his spine and his eyes flew open. This was new. And interesting… He carefully leaned into it, pressing harder and wrapping his arms back around her. Deborah sighed and opened her mouth, probing his lips with her tongue. Her hands ran up and down his back, making thinking difficult. For a half second, he expected her to rake him with claws, like a Yautja female, but remembered she was much kinder and sweeter than them. He opened his mouth and accepted her in. Then they pulled apart.

"C'jit." he said. "I like."

"I'm glad, boy scout. I'll corrupt you yet." Deborah replied with a languorous smile, voice husky. "I'll drop in later."

…..

Kemiri walked out, quite incapable of thinking anything beyond, 'Wow.' That, that was amazing. The Yautja didn't have anything like that. His lips still tingled from the kiss. Until he was only a few blocks from his temporary home, he didn't even remember the hunting warrior. Obviously they had found him out because this was his territory and while hunting, other Yautja stayed away from each other to lessen the impact. How much they knew was a mystery. He had to find Edan and recover his body and take his revenge before he lost his chance.

…..

"So how's work?"

"Oh, same old, same old; busy, boring and full of brain-dead tourists. Got a raise though, which was nice." she replied, picking at her cuticles.

"Tell me about the guy you met in that bar."

"Which one?" At the woman's disapproving growl, Deborah quickly replied, "Just kidding, mum. Jeez, don't worry so much. I'll have you know Kemiri is a perfect gentleman. He's cute and has a penchant for leather, black and large boots. He's from out of town, Europe or South America or something. He told me they had some sort of communal dwelling. It sounded like maybe it was a religious thing. Kind of neat."

"Europe or South America? That's not very exact. Are you sure he is safe? I wouldn't want you drawn into some cult or something."

"He's not in a cult. I think I'd know if he was in a cult. And I just haven't asked where he is from. He can't speak English very well and no French at all. There's a bit of a language barrier, but we get on all right."

"You get on?"

"Mum! Quit it! He's fine! A real boy scout. Did you know that last night was the first time we even kissed? He's so cautious, like he's worried about scaring me away. It was so funny though. We saw an ex a few days ago, a nasty one and Kemiri got so protective. I swear, if that guy looked at me wrong, Kemiri would have gone and pummeled him until he apologized. I wonder what sort of upbringing he had?"

…..

Kemiri ran the kitchen knife the length of the whet stone, rinsed it and squinted critically at the edge. He scraped it along his thumbnail, nodding and grunting approvingly. These primitive steel blades were as sharp as they were going to get. Now that he had weapons, all he had to do was hunt down that tarei'hasan. All the knives had plastic sheaths, so he slid them in and began stashing them inside his clothes. One went in each boot, one under each arm and a shorter one in each sleeve, tied in place with string. The pockets of the trench coat were filled with half a dozen small knives that could be thrown in a pinch. He was as ready as he ever would be.

…..

Kemiri returned to his home at dawn after a fruitless night of searching. He had barely made it in before the sun crested the horizon. He had not seen Edan once. What he did see were two different Yautja who proved very difficult to lose without actually looking like he was fleeing them. He couldn't tell who they were because of the cloaking device and because he could no longer tell them apart by scent. The coward couldn't be too far away though.