Black Moon

by Romina Russell

  But then she turned to me with a smile and simply said, “Guess who’s coming with you to Cancer!”

  “When I met Blaze,” continues present-day Nishi, her voice no longer sad, “he said he was a fan of the song I released, Trust in Guardian Rho, and that he thought it was a clever way to spread the word about Ophiuchus. He’d also heard from other Tomorrow Party members about the group we gathered on Centaurion and was impressed by my recruiting skills. He told me the Party was ready to bring its message to the Zodiac, but first he wanted to find the right co-director for the movement—and in particular, he wanted it to be someone from another House.”

  She breathes out deeply. “He’s considering me.”

  “Helios, Nish!” I hug her tightly, and she squeezes me back. “That’s amazing,” I say into her hair.

  “Nothing’s decided yet; there are other candidates,” she cautions me once we’ve pulled away, but her eyes are still bright with hope. “Can you imagine if the Tomorrow Party gains enough traction to be recognized at the Plenum? This could be huge. We could change the way the whole Zodiac operates, and not in the violent way the Axis did, but through leadership and communication. This could be my purpose in life . . . my way of contributing to our cause.”

  As her eyes grow bigger, my concern resurfaces. I’m thrilled her brilliance is being recognized, but I’m worried about how involved she’s getting with this Party when I know so little about it. And most worrisome of all is the fact that she has yet to mention Deke.

  The flint Tracker on her wrist starts vibrating, and she pulls up a stream of red holographic screens. I decide to check my Wave, too, and a blue message from Crompton appears; he’s invited me to meet with him first thing tomorrow morning.

  Even though I know it’s too soon for him to have updates on Mom, I can’t help hoping.

  “Is that from Hysan?”

  I shoot Nishi a dark look. “I told you already that he and I aren’t speaking—”

  “Sorry, sorry,” she says quickly. “You just looked happy all of a sudden. Is it Mathias?”

  To end the interrogation, I say, “It’s Ambassador Crompton.”

  “Crompton?” She scrunches up her nose the way she does when her math doesn’t match up with the Astralator’s measurements. “He’s our guest of honor at tomorrow’s event.”

  “Impressive.” As a galactic ambassador, Crompton isn’t just an Aquarian political figurehead but a universal one, so his participation is very promising for the Party.

  “It was originally supposed to be the Leader of Leo’s Leadership Pride, but he had some scheduling conflict and bailed on us, so it totally saved us that Crompton agreed to step in.” She tilts her head at me curiously. “Why are you meeting with him?”

  “Well . . . there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you, and it’s another reason I wanted to come to Aquarius. I think . . . I think my mom might be here.”

  Nishi grips my wrists, wringing my veins. “What?”

  I describe the visions I saw of her Aquarian face, and then I take out the black seashell from my pocket and explain how Aryll had it. “I don’t know what’s real and what isn’t. But being on this House is my best chance to find out.”

  “This is incredible, Rho,” whispers Nishi, her eyes still taking up her whole face. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Thanks, Nish. Actually I’ve been consulting the stars as often as possible to search for signs of her. Is there a reading room I can visit, or should I just use my Ephemeris in here?”

  “I’ll take you. I have to handle some Party stuff anyway.”

  Midway down the stairs I stop by Stanton and Mathias’s room. It’s also got a great view, but it’s smaller than ours. “I’m going to do a reading,” I say from the doorway. “What are you two up to?”

  “We’re about to explore the castle,” calls Stan from inside the closed lavatory. “Imogen is giving us a quick tour.”

  Mathias comes over to where I’m standing. “If you want to talk later and we’re not here, try me on my Ring.”

  “Sure,” I say, wanting to say more and yet not sure what I want to say. Then the lavatory door starts to open, and I dash down the stairs to find Nishi.

  I watch from a distance as she delegates instructions to various people, then we both head out through the hidden hole in the wall and down the burgundy-and-blue cloth staircase. When we reach the ground, we’ve only walked a few steps when Nishi abruptly ducks down and pulls up on a bronze handle that practically blends in with the sandstone floor.

  When the trapdoor opens, I peer into the blackness below. “Seriously?”

  Nishi nods. “Good fortune!”

  • • •

  I climb down, and I find myself at one end of a dimly lit, rocky tunnel. I follow it until I reach a cave that flickers with silver lights. I’m in the reading room.

  Alone in the cave, I try tuning out everything else so I can access my Center. Sinking into my soul, it’s no longer just the blues of Cancer I call up to steady myself, but a tapestry of faces—Dad, Deke, Stan, Nishi, Mathias, Hysan, Brynda, Rubidum, Twain, Leyla, Lola, Ferez, and so many others.

  In a way, my definition of home has shifted. My soul no longer feels anchored to a piece of land or a body of water. It’s now tied to all the people I love, across the Zodiac.

  The Abyssthe in my Ring buzzes with the influx of Psynergy, and the map expands around me as I access the astral plane. Asteroids, white dwarfs, red giants, quasars, ethereal clusters of fire—the Zodiac Solar System unfolds before me in a beautiful dance of lights. As I survey the cosmic action, the air starts to tingle with instability. It’s the way the Psy has been for months now.

  I picture Mom’s face, and my fingers find the black seashell in my pocket. I turn it over in my hand as I focus, using it like a lucky charm. After a while I survey the Water Bearer constellation, trying to pick up on her Psynergy, to trace her signature in the astral plane. But just like every time, I feel nothing.

  I opt for a more generalized read. The Fire Houses—Aries, Sagittarius, Leo—are blazing brighter than ever, but that alarm has been sounding for a while now. I continue scanning our worlds, trying to glean any glimpse of tomorrow, and suddenly a sour and bitter taste settles on my tongue.

  The substance spreads until it coats my mouth, and I fall into a coughing fit that burns my throat raw. When the sensation vanishes, I cup my neck, breathing in deeply and slowly.

  I have no idea what kind of omen that was.

  But it tasted like Death.

  11

  THE FOLLOWING DAY DAWNS AS dark and dreary as its predecessor. Nishi is still asleep when I wake up, and I lie in bed beside her, thinking of the Death omen that haunted me all night.

  I barely spoke during dinner, and when Nishi asked what was wrong, I told her I was just tired, so we went to sleep early. I know I should tell her and the others about the omen, but I don’t want to distract them from everything happening in the Zodiac right now. I’d rather wait and see if it appears again. Maybe I even misread it.

  When Nishi wakes up, she orders that breakfast be brought to our room. Once we’ve filled our stomachs with flaky breads and sticky pastries and flavorful jams, we take turns bathing in the room’s luxurious porcelain tub. After a long soak, I slip on a plush aqua robe and join Nishi in the Lady’s Lounge. The mirrored room has a long, velvet vanity lined with a wide array of beauty products. I find a spray that looks to be in the same family as the ones Lola and Leyla used on my hair, and I spritz it on and exhale in relief as my glossy curls begin to dry.

  Nishi plops down on a red couch smothered with gray feathery pillows and says, “Prepare to be blown away. Stand where that marker is.”

  I step up to a black line drawn on the sandstone floor, and a laser beams out from a pink box hanging on the mirrored wall across from me. It scans my body slowly,
and when it’s done, Nishi taps the spot next to her on the couch, and I crash beside her. Exactly where I’d been standing is an identical holographic replica of me.

  “Eerie,” I say, staring at myself.

  “It’s a closet archiver that uses a holographic simulation system for testing outfits, hairstyles, and makeup,” explains Nishi as she pulls up a menu of options. “Once you’re done and you pick out what you want to wear, the middle mirror opens and your outfit pops out.”

  “That’s stellar,” I say, taking over the controls and scrolling through an inventory of the items stored in this closet. We take turns making random selections for my hologram, and each time we assemble an outfit, the program rates our fashion sense by measuring our arrangement against what’s currently in vogue in the trend-setting circles of every world.

  In the end Nishi picks out for herself a pair of charcoal pants and a delicate lavender blouse that has a fine dusting of silver powder. These Aquarian fashions are all a bit too lavish for my taste, so I stick with my trusty blue Lodestar suit. Nishi hung it outside our door last night, and this morning we found it in a garment bag, the fabric so fresh and clean that the suit could be brand-new.

  As I’m sliding my left arm into the tunic’s long sleeve, I feel Nishi’s gaze land on my scars. I don’t wear a bandage anymore; the markings are now just red carvings covering my skin.

  “How are you, Rho?” she asks from her seat at the vanity, where she just finished applying makeup.

  “I’m okay.” I perch at the edge of the feathery couch to pull on my boots, and she comes over to sit next to me.

  “You sure?” she asks softly.

  I shrug, keeping my head bowed while I speak. “At first, I was pretty impressed by how well I could compartmentalize Corinthe’s torture. I just pressed down on the memory every time it floated to the surface of my mind . . . like I used to do with Mom.”

  Like I’m doing with Hysan.

  I venture a glance at Nishi, realizing that what I’m saying applies to her situation, too. “But just as Ferez warned, the pain surfaced eventually. Nothing stays repressed forever.”

  “You’re going to need a coat in case you go outside,” says Nishi suddenly, and she activates the closet archiver again.

  “Nish,” I say gently, “how have you been since De—”

  “I like this one!” The walls around us whir as she picks out a coat without consulting me, and when the middle mirror slides up, a garment bag pops out on a mechanical arm. Nishi swipes the hanger off its hook and unzips the bag to reveal a simple, deep blue feathery frock. It’s exactly what I would have picked out for myself.

  “It’s perfect,” I say, folding it over my arm.

  “We should go or you’ll be late.” She grabs her expensive, white levlan coat and leaves the room so quickly that I have to run after her. By the time I reach the common room, she’s already at the other end of the space talking to Imogen.

  As I rush to catch up to them, Nishi turns and says, “I’m running late for a meeting, so Imogen will take you to see Ambassador Crompton. But I’ll find you later for lunch.”

  There’s no reproach in her voice, and I know she’s just avoiding me to avoid the conversation we almost had. Still, she spares me a quick hug before leaving and whispers in my ear, “I hope there’s good news.”

  • • •

  “How did you come across this group?” I ask Imogen as we’re climbing down the static-powered, carpeted staircase.

  “When you left Centaurion to meet the Marad, I volunteered to captain a rescue ship to come after you, but once we knew you were safe, Twin Rubidum took off to Taurus, and the rest of us were left looking for ways to help.” Her spindly heels are so high that I don’t know how she keeps balanced without a banister.

  “What about your classes at Zodai University?”

  “I can’t go back,” she says definitively.

  In her answer, I hear Nishi, Mathias, Stan, and myself. “I understand.”

  Her copper-flecked eyes flick back and forth between me and the floor. “Some of my classmates had heard of Blaze, and when I looked into his Party, I liked what I saw and decided to get involved. I was really relieved to find Nishi here, and I figured it was only a matter of time before you came, too.”

  When we reach the sandstone ground, we wind through a collection of drawing rooms topped with billowy fabric ceilings and passages draped with undulating carpet-thick cloths. “When will I meet Blaze?”

  “Probably today. I know he’s just as eager to meet you.”

  The walls wilt around us as we cross into a space that’s thoroughly mired in mist. The cool white steam blurs my vision, until all I can see is Imogen. “What—”

  “I know, isn’t it wonderful?” she cuts in. “It’s a thought tunnel!” Through the fog, the shadowy shapes of Aquarians walking near us remind me of Psynergy signatures in the Psy.

  “Aquarians like to stroll through here to take what they call a walk in the clouds whenever they need to think deeply about something. They use these tunnels to tune out the world around them and tune into the worlds within them.”

  Once the white smoke dissipates, we’ve crossed into another common space, and Imogen strides up to an extra-long, aqua-and-silver cloth. She presses her thumb to the wall sensor to activate the static stored in the fabric, and it fluffs out into a staircase.

  “Do you know what Blaze’s goal is with this Party?” I ask as we climb up. “Like, what kind of political plans he’s envisioning?”

  “I think Nishi wanted to be the one to tell you that stuff,” says Imogen mysteriously. “She’s an incredible leader. Blaze is really taken with her.”

  There are so many steps that we’re quiet the rest of the way up, our breathing becoming labored. When we arrive at the hidden entrance in the wall, Imogen uses her thumbprint to gain us access into a marble passageway. Her spindly heels click-clack on the glossy floor, and at the end of the hall she comes to a halt outside a closed door.

  “Thanks for what you did.” Her red lips are so shiny they seem to be absorbing every photon of light.

  “What I did?” I ask.

  “You proved horrors like physical pain and personal loss and universal hate are survivable . . . as long as you wholeheartedly believe in what you’re doing.”

  I don’t quite know what to say; Imogen moved me with her strange and unexpected compliments last time we met, too. “Thanks . . . but conviction alone wasn’t enough,” I caution, thinking of how certain I was that Ochus was my enemy and Aryll my friend. “In fact, sometimes our strongest-held beliefs can become our worst enemies.”

  “How so?” she asks.

  “I think conviction works against us when what we want to be true becomes more important than what’s true.”

  “On Gemini we believe we create our own truths,” she says, her voice growing sultrier as it deepens. “If you can imagine something, it can be done.”

  “That sounds fun but messy.”

  “Which sounds like us,” she says with a smile. “This is as far as I can take you. Ambassador Crompton’s office is beyond that door. Locate me on my Tattoo if you need help getting back to the ninth tower.”

  “The what?”

  “The royal palace has twelve towers, and we’re staying in the ninth,” she throws over her shoulder as her heels click-clack away from me. “That’s why the ninth constellation colors our common room’s ceiling.”

  She hits the wall switch and climbs back out through the opening, and I turn to the door beside me. In place of a handle is a silver palm sensor, and I press my hand against its cold metal. Seconds later the thought tunnel’s white fog floods the passageway until I can’t see anything.

  I stand still while the mist dissipates, revealing first my head, then my torso, then my legs, until a light layer of cottony clouds swirls around my fee
t. Instead of the marble passage, I’m now in a spacious stone chamber, and above me hovers a massive ball of blue energy that’s sparking and buzzing and crackling with power.

  “The royal palace’s energy source,” says a warm voice, and I turn to see a tall man with pink sunset eyes. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Wandering Star.”

  “You as well, Ambassador.” He’s wearing a crisp court suit beneath a sweeping aqua cloak. From his neck hangs a Philosopher’s Stone that looks less gaudy than the others, bearing the crown symbol of the Royal Clan.

  We trade the hand touch, and I feel a jolt of static; instinctively I pat my hair to check for frizz. “I’m sorry,” says Crompton, grimacing apologetically. “The energy in this chamber sometimes interferes with my Barer.”

  As he says the word, I look down at the interconnected rings on his fingers, recognizing the device—it’s House Aquarius’s quick-draw weapon. The Barer’s bands convert energy from the atmosphere, emitting brilliant aqua arcs of electricity that can be molded into a series of lethal forms, including a sword, a bow, and a set of brass knuckles. Elders of the Royal Clan are always armed so they can be ready at all times to defend their sovereign.

  I follow Crompton through one of the dozen doors outlining the chamber, and we enter an unadorned, windowless office with just a few choice pieces of vintage furniture. The only disruption to the plain sandstone walls is a rotating reel of holographic portraits, and I recognize the first face by his protruding forehead and nuclear fission eyes.

  “Ambassador Morscerta,” I say, a memory suddenly surfacing, “used to project a shade around him. I noticed it at the Plenum, and when I touched it, I felt an electric shock.”

  I look to Crompton who’s nodding nostalgically at the portrait. “He was one of the most advanced Elders I’ve ever known. He could do amazing things with a Barer, including project an energy shield so powerful, it could deflect most attacks. He was never without it—not even in sleep.” Meeting my gaze, Crompton shrugs and adds, “He was paranoid.”

  The Aquarian settles into a throne-like aqua armchair behind a gold-trimmed desk, and I take one of the velvet seats across from him. “Ambassador Morscerta was my mentor. This was his office before I inherited it, and those images are the faces of every dignitary who’s inhabited this office, from the very first ambassador appointed by Supreme Guardian Aquarius himself in the earliest days of our House.”