by R S Penney
All Nassai carried memories from previous Keepers whose symbionts had returned to the collective, but Ilia had come to her directly from Jena. Melissa didn't have access to Jena's memories, but she sometimes felt like the other woman's ghost was standing just behind her.
The front door opened.
A moment later, Claire came hopping into the foyer with a backpack slung over one shoulder, giggling as she turned back to their father. “You really think I could do it?” she asked, backing up through the front hallway. “Really?”
Harry shuffled through the door with his head down, breathing out slowly. Claire must have worn him out. “I don't see why not,” he answered. “If you want to play Vibe, try out for the team.”
The smile on Claire's face would make even the most frigid winter day seem warm. “Thanks, Dad!” She surged forward, slamming into Harry and throwing her arms around him. It was good to see them bonding.
Melissa rose from the chair, laughing softly, and stepped into the foyer. “So, you guys were out having fun?”
“Dad played three games with me.”
Harry grunted. “And now I'm paying for it,” he said. “Every time I think I've healed up, I push just a little too hard and feel exhausted for days.”
Claire's mouth dropped open, and she blinked slowly at him. “You'll be okay, won't you?” The words came out with a slight flutter. Melissa's heart sank. A part of her wanted to press her dad about taking back the N'Jal, but when she was forced to look at the effect their dangerous life had on Claire…Maybe Harry had been right to give the thing up.
“I'll be fine, kiddo,” Harry promised.
“He will be,” Melissa added. “The doctors take good care of him.”
Claire gave her a look.
“Why don't you go have Michael make you some lunch?”
The girl looked unsatisfied, but she said nothing as she turned her back and ran up the hallway, into the kitchen. Was this what it was like to be a parent? This need to shield a child from the harshness of the world.
When she faced her father, he was watching her with a frown on his face, nodding once in appreciation of what she had just done. “Thank you,” he said. “So, what do you have planned for today?”
And suddenly, she was a teenager again.
“I'm meeting Aiden,” she mumbled.
Harry's eyebrows went up. “That's the third time this week,” he said softly. “Seems like things are getting pretty serious between you two.”
Melissa smiled, her face burning as she looked down at the floor. “I like him,” she said. “He's very sweet. And let's face it: I'm going to have a lot more luck dating another Justice Keeper.”
Her father jerked his head toward the front door, then promptly turned around and went outside. When she followed, Melissa gloried in the warm sunlight and cool breezes of a day that straddled the border between summer and autumn. The front lawn had been mowed recently by the yard-bots, and she could smell fresh grass clippings.
Leaning against the front wall of the house with hands in the pockets of his jacket, Harry stared intently at his own feet. “So, this guy is your first really serious boyfriend,” he began. “Do we need to have the talk?”
If her face had been warm before, it was now a blazing sun. Clearing her throat, Melissa found the words to answer. “No, Dad, it's fine,” she said. “They covered it all in grade nine health class.”
“I see.”
“Besides, it's a non-issue.”
Her father gave her one of those skeptical glares parents seemed to keep in reserve for moments like this. “Oh really,” he said. “So Bonding a Nassai can circumvent raging teenage hormones?”
She fell back against the front door with her arms folded, sighing as she shook her head. “No…” If anything, the opposite was true. “But I'm a grown woman who has made choices about her life, and I've decided I want to wait until marriage.”
“Seriously?”
Melissa flinched.
Did he have to sound so judgy? Worse yet, he looked at her as if she had just stated her intention to grow wings and fly around the neighbourhood. “Melissa, I want you to be careful, but that doesn't mean abstinence is your only option. There is absolutely nothing shameful about sex.”
Confused by his response, Melissa narrowed her eyes. “That's it?” she spluttered. “Where's the high-handed speech about how no boy will ever be good enough for your baby girl?”
“Melissa, I'm not the stereotypical father figure from an eighties sitcom. Children grow up; they fall in love. They have relationships. It's insane to think that you're going to stay a child forever, and it's beyond misogynistic to suggest that I should have any say over your sex life now that you're a grown woman.
“I came out here, expecting to have a discussion about ways to stay safe. I know you can't get pregnant, but there are still other concerns. But now I'm worried that you might be taking your Catholicism a little too seriously.”
“It's what I want, Dad.”
After a moment, Harry shut his eyes and nodded. “Well, it's your choice,” he said. “And I'll support you no matter what you want to do.”
“That makes you the best dad ever.”
They'd set up her painting on the second floor of the Arts and Culture Centre, near a railing that overlooked the main entrance. A slanted window supported a steel frame and tall pillars allowed her a view of the twilight sky.
Anna stood, facing her work with hands clasped behind herself, her face tight with anxiety. “Why'd I agree to this?” she said, shaking her head. “You don't go years without touching a brush and then just pick it up again.”
Her painting, the swirl of flames around a black centre, was well lit so that people could get a good look. On closer inspection, it was at least as good as anything she had produced in her high-school years, but she was still nervous. Odd that, she used to love showing off her work.
Maybe it was because she felt like a phony. Like she had given up this part of her identity, and now attempts to reclaim it would be met with some serious side-eye. That was probably the result of her mother's nagging.
Anna wore blue jeans with lilies embroidered on each leg and a blue, short-sleeved blouse. Her hair – blonde at the roots and white at the tips – was up in a ponytail. After a light snack, she spent the remainder of the afternoon getting a little sunlight. Finding the nerve to come down here got harder with every step, but here she was.
There were people up here on this wide overhang above the front entrance, people who clustered in small groups and studied the work of the other students. Other painters from Anna's class, sculptors, wood-workers: their work was set up in a line near the railing.
Her mind projected the silhouette of Jack as he marched across the overhang, his eyes fixed upon her as if he wasn't surrounded by fine art. “Hey!” he said. “Sorry if I'm a little late.”
“You aren't.”
“Judges haven't come by?”
Shutting her eyes, Anna breathed in and pushed her anxiety down into the pit of her stomach. “Not yet,” she said. “But you can only delay the inevitable for so long; so, you might have to catch me when I collapse into a puddle of grief.”
She turned to him.
Her partner wore gray pants, a black v-neck t-shirt and a smile that made her heart flutter. That messy brown hair of his…Did he have to be so cute? “It's not gonna be that bad,” Jack said. “I think your work is gorgeous.”
“Really?”
When she forced herself to really look at it, she had to admit that something about that swirl of flame drew her in. Almost as if she were trapped in a whirlpool that dragged her down to the depths of what Jack's people called Hell. Which wasn't exactly what she was going for, but it worked.
Normally, she preferred to paint happy things. But this past year…Anna couldn't escape the sinking feeling that they were all standing on the edge of a cliff with a strong wind just itching for the chance to push them over. “Come on,” she s
aid. “Let me show you some of the other pieces.”
She took him to see a painting that depicted a twilight sky over a forest of conifers that stood on the shore of a lake. One of her classmates, a young man named Idrin, had created it. And he was very good. For a moment, she felt a little jealous. A silly emotion, but there it was. “This style is called Shian Taleev,” she said.
Biting his lower lip, Jack nodded as he regarded the painting. “ 'Clear vision,' ” he said, translating her words. “We actually have something very similar on Earth. It's called realism…I think.”
With a giggle, Anna shook her head. “Actually, you're correct,” she said. “And is it sad that I know more about Earth art than you do?”
“Very.”
Their next stop was a wood carving of a bird with a long beak. It was perched on a wooden stick with its wings folded, surveying the ground below. Anna found herself very impressed by the intricate detail. The artist who made this actually created the impression of each feather on the wings. “Wow,” she said.
The creator stepped forward to stand by his work. A tall man in his middle years with a barrel chest, dark skin and hair that was graying at the temples, he grunted softly. “Thank you. I modeled this after the style of Randal Vagrali.”
The name tickled Anna's memory, but she would be lying if she said that she knew who that was. Presumably some woodworker. “It's wonderful,” she said. “You should be very proud.”
They visited each piece, one by one, and Anna took the opportunity to share what she knew about each creation, which – in some cases – wasn't much. Her expertise was mostly limited to visual arts, though she did know a few things about musical theory. Not much, but a little.
It made her happy to see that Jack was enjoying himself. A part of her had worried that he might find this boring, but he conversed with the artists and asked her follow-up questions whenever she offered some little tidbit of information. Eventually, they made their way back to Anna's station. Jack would occasionally slow down for a second to look at certain pieces.
Linking arms with Jack, Anna closed her eyes and rested her head against his upper arm. “My uncle always wanted to try his hand at woodworking,” she said as they passed the bird. “He never got around to it.”
“That's a shame,” Jack said. “We always think we have time to do the things we've always wanted to do…and then, one day, we don't anymore. When you told me about this show, it made me think of the creative projects I've got on hold.”
“Like what?”
“Let's just say I have a few ideas.”
She spun around to stand in front of him.
Craning her neck to stare up at him, Anna narrowed her eyes. “Oh no,” she said. “I put myself out there because you said you wanted to see my art.” Well…Actually, it had been her own idea, but she wasn't going to mention that now. “So, if you've been working on something, I want to know.”
A blush put some colour in Jack's face, and he shook his head slowly. “It's still in the idea phase,” he said. “Larani thinks that we should be playing a more active role in stopping the spread of Dusep's hateful rhetoric.”
“And you have a plan?”
“I do.”
“Tell me!”
Instead of acquiescing, he just leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. “I'm terribly sorry, my love,” Jack said. “But you're gonna have to wait. Some things are just better without the spoilers.”
Anna pouted at him. “Meanie.” Sadly, that only made him laugh and turn back to her painting. The curiosity was like an itch she couldn't scratch, a minor nuisance that would drive her crazy.
Thankfully, she was spared from having to wonder by the arrival of her teacher. Rael looked sharp in a sport coat and a pair of thin spectacles. “Anna!” he exclaimed. “I was just telling Mari about you.”
The older woman who walked at his side was short and compact with silver hair that she wore in a braid. Her expression was one of focused concentration as she studied each piece. “Ms. Lenai,” she said. “I've heard so much.”
“Mari is one of the judges,” Rael explained.
Oh no…
Mari stepped up to the painting, covering her mouth with one hand as she inspected Anna's work. “Very provocative,” she said, nodding. “Your technique is superb. This isn't your first piece, is it?”
By instinct, Anna stood demurely with her hands folded behind herself, her head bowed. “No, it's not,” she replied. “I used to paint when I was a teenager.”
“And you gave it up?”
It was hard not to feel embarrassed, but Anna reminded herself that she was being silly. The other woman liked her work. Seth's gentle encouragement helped. “More like put it on hold,” Anna said. “I bonded a symbiont and became a Justice Keeper.”
Mari turned promptly on her heel, standing in front of the painting and nodding to Anna. “Well, you should pick it up again,” she said. “I work with a gallery in Senadrel, and we happen to be looking for new artists. Would you be willing to display this piece?”
“Yes!” Anna blurted out. “Yes, of course!”
“Excellent,” Mari said. “I'll make arrangements to send you a contract tomorrow. Well done, Ms. Lenai.”
Chapter 11
After rapping her knuckles on the door to Aiden's apartment, Melissa waited and waited for what seemed like an eternity. Really, it was only a few moments, but she was eager to see her new boyfriend. The door swung inward, revealing a bleary-eyed Aiden who blinked at her. “What?”
A grin split Melissa's face, and she giggled. “We were supposed to have lunch,” she said with a nod. “We made plans last night, remember?”
Aiden scowled as if the hallway lights brought him pain, then stepped back and touched fingertips to his forehead. “I'm sorry,” he said in a groggy voice. “I was up all night studying.”
Melissa stepped inside.
His apartment was small with a cute little kitchen just inside the front door and beyond that, a living room where blinds on the rectangular windows kept out the natural light. There were tablets strewn across Aiden's sofa: several of them, each one displaying different reference materials.
A half-finished plate from last night's dinner – some kind of pork dish with a side of corn – was sitting on Aiden's kitchen table. Ilia felt concern, And Melissa couldn't blame the Nassai; just one look at this place, and you would think the resident was a hermit who spent his nights consuming energy drinks and writing conspiracy theories.
Melissa wrinkled her nose in distaste, then shook her head. “What are you doing?” she asked, moving deeper into the apartment. “There's studying, and then there's killing yourself to get a good grade.”
She spun to face him with her arms crossed, her mouth tight as she looked him up and down. “Learn the difference, would you?” she snapped. “Pushing yourself this hard isn't going to result in academic success.”
“That's rich,” he said. “Coming from you.”
“I beg your pardon.”
Aiden sat on the edge of his table, resting elbows on his thighs and covering his face with both hands. When he finally looked up, his eyes seemed to glaze over. “All of this stuff comes so easily to you.”
“That's not true.” She resisted the urge to point out the many nights she stayed up late, going over something from law class or reviewing case files for an upcoming test. It irked her to realize that her boyfriend was oblivious to the work she put in. Easy? Hardly. She worked her damn ass off!
“Maybe not,” Aiden said. “But it doesn't matter how well you do. You already have a Nassai; you could screw up every test, fail every assignment, and they're not gonna turn you away because they need every Keeper they can get.”
With her mouth hanging open, Melissa closed her eyes and shuddered as she forced air into her lungs. “You're very wrong about that,” she replied in a breathy whisper. “If you paid attention in class, you'd know that a Keeper can be relieved of duty for all sorts
of infractions.”
It was the wrong thing to say, and she knew it the moment the words were out of her mouth; you didn't look at the boy who had just run himself ragged trying to earn a good grade and accuse him of not paying attention.
Aiden stiffened, his face crumpling as he shook his head. “Fine. Whatever,” he said. “Maybe we should reschedule. I have a lot to do.”
Melissa glanced into the living room.
All those tablets on the couch blinking away, the half-finished mug of coffee next to the lamp. Blinds to keep the light away from Aiden's tired eyes. “It seems to me that you've been doing too much.”
“I don't have time for lunch-”
“Apparently not,” Melissa said. “Just like you don't have time to sleep or to finish eating or…” She sniffed the air, allowing herself to notice the sweaty musk that filled this apartment. “Or to shower.”
When she opened a small closet in the kitchen, Melissa found Aiden's serving bot recharging in its alcove. “How do you have a robotic helper and still live in a mess like this? I really can't fathom it.”
Rubbing his eyelids with the tips of his fingers, Aiden groaned. “I turned him off the other day,” he mumbled. “He was making too much noise. I couldn't think.”
“Aiden…This is obsessive.”
“I…Yeah.” He stood up, shuffling over to her with shaky steps that made her worry about the prospect of him fainting right then and there. “Maybe I need a break. Why don't we get some lunch?”
Melissa set her jaw and put on her sternest expression. “We'll get some lunch,” she said, nodding to the bathroom door. “After you shower. Then you're going to come back here and get some sleep.”
“I…Yes, ma'am.”
At first, she was satisfied with his concession, but five minutes later, as she heard the distinct sound of water splashing against tile, she began to worry. What on Earth – or Leyria, for that matter – would motivate Aiden to push himself this hard? She understood the desire to prove yourself, but there were limits.
