Iain whispered, “She might have broken up with her boyfriend.”
“So it’s all much worse than normal,” Holly said.
“I heard that,” Kaye said. There was actually a firm edge to her tone that took away from the fun of their banter.
Holly looked up at Iain, who shrugged, concern hanging in his eyes and the corners of his mouth, his gaze focused back over the tops of the shelving to where Kaye still stood, working.
A clatter that sounded like metal hitting glass rang through the room. Brisk footfalls came next, and Holly glanced back toward Kaye in time to see her marching toward the exit of the shop.
“Be back later!”
“You’ll need your coat!” Iain shouted after her, but she was gone already.
The door swung shut with a faint ringing and a gust of cold air. Through the window, Holly watched as Kaye descended the stairs outside and disappeared into the foot traffic.
Spire shadows draped across the alley as the day spun toward evening. The blankets of snow that had coated the city the night before already looked old and worn from the sunny day that had just coasted by.
Iain shook his head. “Damn. That girl's broken heart is going to get her into trouble.”
“Let her go. Maybe the cold is all she needs to wake up a bit.”
“She’s too young to wake up fully,” he said, turning toward the center of his store.
He went deeper into his shop, passing the display of paintbrushes. Holly followed him and stopped in front of the crackling fire, beneath the painting of Veronica Veronese. She warmed her hands above the flames, and glanced up at the shock of red hair on the woman in the painting.
Iain went to his checkout counter and opened a box. “Help me sort through these oil paints?”
“No. If you’d said acrylic paint, I’d help. But,” she shook her head, “I won’t touch oil paints.”
“Get over here, Holly,” Iain growled.
She laughed and crossed the floor to join him.
“Now then. Don’t think I won’t ask what sort of plans you have brewing in that silly head of yours, full of ideas.”
“Oh, it’s a silly head is it? Because I’m female, and females can’t possibly do or think clever things, not like a man?”
“No, the issue is your youth. Untried, untested.”
She fixed him with a look that was intended to scare with its challenging ferocity, but she couldn’t be sure it worked. “Well, not all of us have had the benefit of working for the supreme overlords, protecting the solar system from whatever strangeness is out there beyond the heliopause.”
The metal tubes of paint were cold and weighty in her hands. The faintest odor of new mixed with a hint of the dust of storage permeating the area as they worked through the box of paints.
“After this, it’s brushes. My assistant left, so I’m going to need you the rest of the afternoon. Possibly the evening.”
“Possibly the entire night?” Holly asked, something twisting into a knot in her gut.
His eyes flashed. His voice dropped into a lower register. “Possibly.”
“I’d stay that late, but I’m too young to be out. Curfew.”
“Tough. You’ll be in my care. You’ll be safe with me.”
If they didn’t change this dialogue, she was going to push him into his back room and ravish him.
“You’re hardly trustworthy.”
“That’s actually my middle name. Iain Trustworthy Grant.”
She laughed and dropped a tube of oil paint. “Terrible joke.”
“You loved it.”
She picked up the paint and returned it to the pile of shades of red she’d sorted.
“You don’t have to tell me what you’re planning, Holly. You know that, right?” He’d gone serious.
She thought about it. “I’m working on it. Working on figuring some things out. It’s messy and everything I’m doing is still kind of scattered. But the gist of it is that there are two groups coming into power. Three, if we count the Syndicate.”
The Syndicate—the long-standing Centau organization. The word was something else in the Universal language; in the Centau tongue, it was something else again, a term that meant a loose power structure, a concept implying a ruling class that was more like ruling groups of families that were intermarried and connected by informal ties between houses. These loose translations that couldn’t quite approximate the words meant that they ended up with a term for their Centau government that sounded like a crime family from ancient Earth.
But as Holly reflected for a moment on the three groups now struggling for position, she suddenly realized that maybe that wasn’t too far off. It wasn’t a representative kind of government that cared to listen to the people it rested upon. It was just what was, and having been what they’d known for so long, it seemed normal.
“The Shadow Coalition is back.” Iain’s words were a statement, not a question.
“You’ve seen them?” She paused in putting tube of paint down.
He nodded.
“So have I. And children are leaving Elan’s school, and I’ve watched the Shadow Coalition getting into autos with them. And now there are The Cocks.” She shook her head. “Shadow’s Shadow was just so ridiculous that, whenever I said it, I laughed.”
“‘Cocks’ fits better.”
Holly cleared her throat. She imagined that her cheeks had flamed up to match the tube of Crimson Lake currently in her hand. She glanced outside.
“I saw that.” His tone was playful.
She laughed, and her temperature increased. She looked back at him. “Anyway, I’m building something. A force. I don’t know what to call it, but I hope it’ll be big enough to take all of them on if we have to.”
“You’re sure about this?”
“What other choice do I have?”
“There’s always a choice.”
“Not a good one.”
“You’re right, there doesn’t seem to be a better option, does there? At least, not if you want something to change.” He gathered up the pile of greens he’d accrued and carried them to the paint aisle. “Run away?”
“You know I can’t do that.” Holly followed him with the reds. “I mean. The kids, Iain. They're in danger again, but they're young and dumb. They’re looking for something—a home, money, I don’t know.”
“If they choose it, can you really just pull them away from it?”
“I see your point, but these are kids. That logic works for adults, but kids? I also don’t know that Voss and her ilk haven’t coaxed them with lies and promises of shit that will never happen.”
Iain began stacking the shades of green into their slots. They were both silent for a moment. Holly saw the lines of concern etched into his face, he opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the tinkling bell of the front door.
They both looked up as a customer entered. With him came a cold wind that whistled through the crack left in the door from the wind.
Iain leaned close to her. "Customers have impeccable timing. And so does the wind, it seems." He strode away, leaving his post to go shut the front door until it latched. Holly heard Iain greet the customer—a male human—as she continued to stock the shelves.
When he finally returned, the look on his face made it clear that Iain wasn't in love with the idea of her approach. She wasn’t, either. But until something changed, it was her only choice.
14
“Here, Drake. End of the alley closest to your buddy Iain’s,” Darius said when Holly answered his call.
“He’s not my buddy.” She rubbed her eyes, sat up, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. It was too early for Darius to tease her. She’d fallen into his trap immediately.
“Who’s not your buddy?” Iain asked. He stepped out of the bathroom wearing just his boxer briefs.
She glanced at him and felt her gut respond to his mostly nude body. His black, gray-dappled hair was mussed from the night, and sh
e didn’t know why but that was probably her second favorite way to see the man—half awake, sleep still clinging to him, kind of in natural form. Vulnerable.
He scrubbed his fingers through his hair as she watched him. Holly tried to sort through the two conversations coming at her at once with only half her brain on, the other half still uncoiling from rest. The problem was that it was responding to all the wrong things.
“Oh, sorry. You’re on a call,” Iain whispered.
“Yeah, Drake, he’s your buddy. Whatever you want to call him. Point is, get your ass out here.”
“Er, uh,” she shook her head and pulled her eyes away from Iain. She looked at the window in front of her, where the shade was closed. Slate gray early morning light crept in at the edges. “Are you telling me you’re waiting for me? You’re welcome to come meet me in the shop. You don’t have to wait outside.”
“Can’t. I brought the Lapsong Mirage.”
She stretched and yawned, then stared, silent, trying to register what he meant. Suddenly, she straightened. “The auto? You brought the automobile?”
“I thought the old girl deserved a stroll through the city. It’ll be fun. We haven’t had her out in a while,” Darius said. “I haven’t been on these little missions lately. Thought I’d make an occasion of it.”
“Where are we taking it?”
“One of our contacts has a lead on something you might want to add to your arsenal.”
“So, guns?”
“Alright, so arsenal’s probably not the best word. It’s not guns.”
“OK. Be there in a few.” She ended the call.
“I’m your buddy now?” Iain asked.
She glanced over her shoulder at him. He was sitting on the bed behind her.
He shook his head. “I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to buddy.”
“Buddy is noble,” she laughed, changing tactics just to tease him. “There’s nothing better than a friend.”
He gave her a look. “I can think of at least one thing.”
“Lover? Not the same. There’s payment in that one.” She turned and settled back against her pillow, resting on her arm.
“Payment? I’m insulted. Love is insulted.”
“Friends are just there. They’re not asking for anything except companionship.”
She wanted nothing more than to roll around with him on the bed for a while. This close, he smelled of morning. His skin was a temptation, and when she touched his arm, it was even harder to resist. She stared at the crook of his neck, inviting, probably delicious, and so close it would only take the slightest effort to lean in and bury herself there.
Reluctantly, she rose and got dressed. He watched her, not moving himself.
“You’re not getting up now?” she asked.
“As soon as you leave, I’m going back to sleep.”
“Lazy.”
“I did my time in the military. The shop doesn’t open for a few hours.”
“You could use this time for self-improvement.”
He laughed. “I’m already amazing. Honestly, I probably won’t sleep. I’ll lay here, maybe a bit frustrated, and want to sleep. Then I’ll get up and do my self-improvement workbooks.”
“You want to go with us?” she asked, putting on her boots.
She knew the answer. It wasn’t necessary that he come, which was usually the only reason Iain ever agreed to go with her.
That was her first favorite way to see Iain Grant—working. Commanding a ship. Something about it pulled her in and could quickly lead to her second favorite way of seeing him. He shed passion and impulse to become a tool.
Tool was the wrong word—something more essential and honed. A sword, or the hilt of a sword.
She needed to work on that metaphor.
“Not today. But as you figure out what you’re doing, and if you need me, I’ll be there.”
She allowed herself a small smile. Behind it were promises of devotion and pledges of fealty and oaths of loyalty, and an even bigger smile. But she couldn’t look that idiotic or sound that desperate. Besides, maybe he’d find another excuse to not be there, and his promises would simply be hollow.
So far, Iain hadn’t been hollow at all. But there was a first time for everything. And she couldn’t shake the caution that life experiences had ground into her.
He walked her through the upper floor of the house, down the stairs and to the front door of the shop. His skin was covered in gooseflesh as they moved through the cold, dark space, still shut down for the night.
“I can see that look in your eyes, Drake,” he said.
“What look? And don’t call me Drake. It’s too—”
“Too what?”
“Like I’m your buddy.”
“Buddy is noble, Drake.”
“Who said I was noble?” she asked, wrapping her arms around him.
He returned the hug.
She hated leaving him, but duty called. That was how they both were—Iain resisted, but when duty compelled him, he was there. She understood their priorities. But damn. It sucked.
“Let me know how it goes,” he said.
“If you’re lucky, I will,” she teased, heading out into the cold morning.
* * *
Holly paused at the exit from Analogue Alley and scanned the area. Pedestrians were sparse. Cold winter mornings kept everyone inside longer, but there were still a number of decked-out individuals braving the temperatures. The bamboo sign at the narrow alley entrance carved with the words ‘All Things Analogue’ looked brittle in the gray morning. Above her, Ixion was hidden by cloud cover, but the sky still held that glow of dawn as it inched closer.
She couldn’t have missed the Lapsong Mirage if she’d tried. Darius had parked it along the edge of the street. Its Neptune blue paint job reeled in her gaze. The flames running across the rear half of the auto made her stomach flutter in admiration. It appealed to some primal, ancestral-born lust in her to climb in and go fast. Others around her also stared.
The driver’s window was rolled down, and Darius’ tweed-covered arm hung through the opening despite the cold.
The suede elbow patch probably keeps him warm. Holly snorted and crossed the street when it was clear.
Most of the automobiles in the City of Jade Spires were built for efficiency and economy—their bodies were made to take up the least amount of space possible, to glide through the city like birds, alighting here and there with the least notice.
But the Mirage represented the opposite of Centau values and aesthetics of form. It was made to be big, bold, and show off its grandeur. The Centaus didn’t understand it, which may have explained their fascination with human art.
As she opened the door, she caught her reflection in the shiny, blue paint. She couldn’t help noticing that she looked as kickass as she felt. Possibly even more. She got inside. The hum of the aether-powered engine in the auto awoke a part of her that normally slumbered.
“Go!” she urged, voicing the animal thrill.
“Drake!” Darius laughed and complied, hitting the pedal and sending the auto into motion.
At a pace that was slower than her walking speed.
“What the hell, Darius?” she asked. “I can walk faster than this.”
“I don’t want to open her up until we’re further from the city.”
“Where, exactly, are we going?”
“Almost to the Southern Grey Jade district.”
“It’ll take us a day to get there at this speed,” Holly said.
“I’ll speed up in the Black Jade.”
“Then, half a day?” She didn’t really know if that was true, but she was certain it would end up taking most of her day, which wasn’t what she had planned.
“Relax. This is going to be fun. We’ll get all the stares we want. Stares of envy. Looks of bafflement. We’ll be ogled and lusted after. You’ll love it.”
“None of that sounds like what I want.”
“It’s what I
want.”
“Now that actually sounds right.”
They turned left at a cross street, leaving the Alley behind. The route Darius took skirted the eastern edge of the Green Jade district. Spires towered around them in the frosted blue look of the Ice Jade district, glinting in the wan morning light, their neon edges flickering off as the daylight strengthened.
“No talking.” Darius turned on some music.
“You shouldn’t have said that. Now all I want to do is talk. Before, I was perfectly happy to watch the city passing by.”
“Good thing there’s nothing to talk about.”
“We could talk about you driving faster,” Holly pointed out, turning the music down.
“Or, one of the subjects neither of us want to discuss, you could tell me more about your plans to take over the 6 Moons.” He finally rolled up his window and flicked on the heater.
Holly stopped shivering as the interior warmed. “Putting it like that makes me sound crazy, like my father.”
“Well, you’re not. I mean—wait a minute, no one has ever posited that George was crazy. Was he?”
Holly shrugged. She wanted to avoid looking at Darius now that they were on this topic, but she forced herself to look at him. His tweed driving cap was tilted back at an angle that could only be described as jaunty.
How had she ended up on a crew with so many hats, and hats that often landed at jaunty angles, no less?
His arm hung over the large steering wheel, casual-like. His gaze flicked in her direction then back to the road. They stopped at an intersection and waited for the signal to change. The Centaus had incorporated styles that all the races understood. Colors flashing, and numbers counting down.
Holly opened her mouth to explain a bit more about what she meant, but suddenly Darius’s expression changed to one of shock as he looked past her out the passenger window. Then he repositioned the rearview mirror to look behind them.
“Shit.”
“What is it?” Holly asked, turning to look out the window at her side.
“It’s The Cocks. They’ve come.” Darius laughed. “It’s not funny, sorry, Drake, but that was kind of funny. I should say they’ve arrived, they’re here. Couldn’t resist, though.”
The Colossus Collection : A Space Opera Adventure (Books 1-7 + Bonus Material) Page 111
