The Colossus Collection : A Space Opera Adventure (Books 1-7 + Bonus Material)

by Nicole Grotepas

  When she wrapped it up, Meg sat back and took a long drink of her water. “I don’t know, Hols, I don’t see a threat there. At least, none that we can use to help you out.”

  “She can’t prove it, Meg, it’s true, at least not without evidence. But why would Holly make any of this up?” Gabe asked.

  “I’m not saying she’s making it up, I’m just saying that there’s nothing we can do with the information,” Meg said. “Besides, this second group sounds fake. The Cocks.”

  “So what do you need from us, Holly?” Gabe asked.

  “Like I said, The Cocks is the name I gave them. The name they gave to themselves is much worse. The idiotic Shadow’s Shadow.”

  “The Idiotic Shadow’s Shadow?” Meg repeated. “Who would even call themselves that?”

  “Right? But I’m the one who called them idiotic. They’re not calling themselves that.”

  Gabe’s attention was suddenly on the street outside the window. The throngs parted and gave way to allow a cluster of The Cocks through, the group strutting along like their chicken namesake.

  “That’s them,” Holly said, hardly believing her luck.

  “Who?” Meg asked, putting down her water.

  “The damn Cocks.”

  “They look like asses,” Gabe remarked.

  “They are. They’re any body part you can mention that has anything to do with human waste.”

  “Thanks for the lovely image, Holly,” Meg said.

  “It’s what I’m here for. So, you guys in?”

  They watched as The Cocks continued on. They did nothing beyond exist to call attention to themselves. But arrogance emanated from them, giving them an aura of disruption.

  “No,” Meg said, grimacing.

  “I’m in,” Gabe said. “Yeah, I think it would be fun to take on these Cocks. Take away their power, make them impotent.”

  Holly laughed and caught Meg rolling her eyes and shaking her head.

  “What? It was funny.”

  “It was juvenile. There’s a difference.”

  “Sometimes, Meg, dear sister, the best way to disarm your enemy is to make fun of them. Reduce them to fools in your own mind. That way you’re not afraid of them.”

  “And you do that with the flair of a teen boy.”

  “A human teen male,” Holly said, nodding. “Because if you do it to their faces, it pisses them off too. Half the battle is won right there.”

  “When did you become such an expert on the art of war?” Meg asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “You really need to get laid. I’m sorry, Meg, I don’t love talking like that about my own sweet, kind sister, but honestly, I’ve never seen you like this.”

  Gabe nodded, finally pulling his attention away from the crowds outside. He’d been watching like he hoped to catch sight of another herd of idiotic Cocks. “See what I’ve been dealing with, Holly? You get it now, right?”

  Holly swiveled her gaze to Gabe. She loved the guy, she really did. He was—outside of Iain and the men on her crew—one of her top five men in all the 6 Moons. But he was being as much of an ass as Meg. No way could she let him manipulate the conversation into turning her against her sister. That was Holly’s call. It was a family thing.

  “You’re both being worse than teenagers. Gabe. You don’t like the way Meg is doing things? Then man up and give her what she needs, or get out of her way and let her find another man who will be what she needs, and give her what she deserves—which, if I’m being honest, is sometimes a love tap right across the face. Sorry, Meg, but you know it’s true. Sometimes you just need to be manhandled. And sometimes, like right now, that needs to be in the form of a good roll in the sack.”

  They stared at her, eyes wide.

  “And by sack, I mean bed. In the bedroom. In a bed. You know, rip each other’s clothes off, and just deliver the goods?” She sighed. What was happening to her?

  A giant grin overtook Gabe’s face. Meg’s normally pale complexion was on fire.

  Holly leaned back before Meg could reach across the table and smack her. “You both needed to hear it,” she said, crossing her arms and smiling at them in her most ‘you wouldn’t hit a guy wearing glasses, would you?’ kind of way.

  “You’re dead meat, Holly Drake.” Meg pointed at her. “You know I carry weapons for work?”

  “The important thing is, you guys are in. Be on the lookout for anything that could help me.”

  19

  Sunlight drenched the balcony overlooking Cobalt Bay on the moon Itzcap as Holly stared out at the water. Most people would prefer the spot to anything in the City of Jade Spires. Someone—A maid, maybe? Did George hire someone to look after the place?—had covered the furniture in canvas to protect it from sun damage and inclement weather. Sailboats dotted the crystal blue waters, lacing white trails across the surface. Further up the coast, a space elevator capsule began its ascent, leaving the platform. Wind, full of the fragrance of cypress and salt, swirled and collected Holly’s hair—she was wearing it down for once—then ran gentle fingers through it and fluttered off like the teasing flirt that it was.

  Holly sighed. “I thought we’d find something here. Just a hunch. I hate to be wrong, though, especially when we came all this way and spent all those novas.”

  Odeon had joined her to search the home that her father George had left behind when he’d suddenly taken off with a Centau female. Finding out that her ex-cop father was the Heart of the Shadow Coalition still floored her.

  “Are you giving up?” Odeon asked, leaning against his club. It was a staff, really, but the Yasoan insisted that the proper term for the stick he’d altered was a club. The Ousaba club was the preferred weapon of some order of ancient peaceful warriors from his homeworld of Yaso. “Something will come of this journey. We’re still here.”

  The wind also wove through his sliver hair, tangling it and then leaving it for a few seconds. Bay breezes were annoying like that, always touching a person in too-familiar ways, but with all the innocence of wild nature.

  “I’d love it if you were right. But if he’s coming back, he left no indication of that here. Except the fact that the place hasn’t been sold, and that, somehow, the taxes on it continue to be paid—and from the looks of it, he hired a maid or someone to look after it.”

  “Those are good reasons to think he’ll come back,” Odeon said.

  “Well, if he does, I need to be ready.”

  “How will we do that? You have an idea?” He stared at her with that bright, multi-hued gaze of his and waited.

  “Something’s brewing. Out there, and in here,” she tapped her temple dramatically. “It’s not much. Well, I mean, it is. It’s going to be a lot of work. It’s already been a lot of work. The problem is that I don’t know if it’ll be enough.”

  “And what is it, Holly?”

  “Building my own fleet. It might only be a fleet of two ships, but it’ll be something. I’m gathering up my own forces to be ready for when Aimee Voss strikes, or if George comes back.”

  “An empire? A Holly Drake empire?”

  “I guess you could call it that.” She furrowed her brow, wondering if she sounded like an egomaniac. What the hell was she doing?

  “Checking in, Ms. Drake, have you found anything?” Shiro’s voice came in on the comms, startling Holly and Odeon.

  Holly touched her ear. She’d almost forgotten she was wearing her earpiece. “Not yet.”

  “Again, this is one of my specialties. Finding the un-findable. Not to rub it in, but if I were there, we’d have found whatever you’re looking for.”

  “I needed you back there. Making contacts. Getting us another gig if you can. This operation is going to cost us the price of our organs on the black market.”

  “Darius has found a few options, lass, though I daresay mine are much better,” Shiro said.

  “He’s wrong. Mine are better,” Darius said. “Come in, come in, can you guys hear me?”

  “
Yes, we can hear you, Darius Jackson,” Holly said.

  “You mean Clem Fandango, don’t you?” Darius said.

  “What?”

  “Obscure reference. OK, look, I don’t want to brag, but I’m basically the equivalent of forty crewmembers with how much I’ve managed to do for this empire-building initiative you’ve got us doing, Drake.”

  “That sounds good. Did you secure the warehouse?”

  “That I did. I’ve got Warehouse 23A on our roster.”

  “Darius’s gigs never pan out. Mine do—take the vase job we just completed. Who brought that job in? Shiro Oahu.”

  “That’s true, Darius, what’s your rebuttal?”

  The competing never got old . . . unless they were in the middle of a tense spot, but even then. At least they somewhat openly competed, versus the sneaky maneuvers that chicks pulled. That’s why Holly and Charly got along—Charly used her fists to fight, she didn’t backbite or manipulate from afar. Holly was the same.

  Darius made an exasperated sound. Holly could just see him pulling his driving cap down lower and cocking his head to the side as a slow grin spread across his face. “I’ve brought in jobs that paid well, Shiro.”

  “Name them, chap,” Shiro challenged.

  “Are you guys together?” Holly asked.

  Ambient noise came through the earpiece. The sounds of a crowd, the hum of something. She couldn’t tell which microphone was picking it up.

  “Negative,” Darius said. “I’m walking through the underworld, turning your vision into reality.”

  “And I’m out tracking the whereabouts of the new Shadow Coalition, as well as leads on The Cocks.” He sighed. “I wish you hadn’t picked that name, Ms. Drake. Unfortunately, it seems to have stuck.”

  “They can get stuck, or so I hear,” Darius said.

  “Speak for yourself.”

  “Oh, I do, but I never have that problem.”

  “Alright, alright. Cool it, boys. Back to work. We didn’t bring you, Shiro, but, before I leave, I want to make sure I’ve explored every possibility. If you were here, Master Thief, where would you look?”

  “A clever opponent thinks like a thief.”

  “So they hide their stuff well? The important stuff?”

  “That depends. A thief knows that not everyone else is a thief. They feel special almost, as though they’ve been given a gift or some type of advantage as to the way the minds of both thieves and non-thieves work. Though the possibilities are endless, there are two modes of thought. One is to hide your valuables in a very secret place. The other is to hide them out in the open. Your priceless necklace? It could be in a safe. Or it could be dangling from the neck of a statue as an accessory. No one would dare put a priceless item there. Is that not asking for it to be stolen? Or is it a psychological game—hiding a treasure in plain sight?”

  “And thank you for the lecture, Professor Oahu,” Darius said. Holly could almost hear his eyes rolling.

  What Shiro was saying made a kind of unexpected sense. Who knew there were strategies to the way thieves thought?

  She felt Odeon’s eyes on her as she began to nod and pace across the balcony. “We’ve looked everywhere we can think of that would be secret. So, maybe it’s out in the open. Whatever it is.”

  “Yeah, look at the obvious things now, Drake," Darius counseled. "Something out in the open, something that your father would see as valuable, but maybe no one else would.”

  “Good call,” Holly agreed, her mind running wild with possibilities.

  “And now," Darius said, "if she finds it, I’ll take the credit.”

  “You fight dirty,” Shiro said.

  “No honor among thieves." Darius's tone was matter-of-fact.

  “I disagree, lad, at least this thief is full of honor.”

  “Let’s vote Darius off the crew,” Odeon said, grinning. “Thieves have honor.”

  “Can’t vote the tech wizard off the team, Odeon,” Darius protested, “otherwise there’d be no crew.”

  Holly laughed and put a stop to the banter, wrapping up the conversation—otherwise it would go on forever. She and Odeon removed their earpieces so they could concentrate without the fools back on Kota inserting themselves into everything they did.

  “Ah, alone again,” Holly said with a sigh. “Love the boys, but I need a break now and then.”

  Odeon followed her back through the patio doors. “What do you think, Holly? Just begin searching? Shiro said nothing new to me. I have already done what he suggested, looking in the obvious spots. But I didn’t know your father. There may be a clue that only you can see.”

  “Let’s just do it again. Maybe there’s something I overlooked.”

  They searched the main floor. The display cabinets in the kitchen, the dining room, the three bedrooms, the bathrooms. Everything their eyes landed on, they checked, and Holly assessed if it had some meaning other than the obvious. Nothing stood out. In fact, the more she looked, the more it seemed the place was devoid of all symbolic connections to George’s past.

  Finally, they gave up and made their way to the couches arranged around the rug.

  Holly recalled the first time she’d seen the place, and a pang jolted through her. What was the point of going through life with a broken heart?

  The betrayal from George was often too much to absorb. It was an affront to all that she cared for in the universe—that honor the guys had been joking about, the integrity of what she valued, being truthful about who she was to the people she held in esteem. Lies. Betrayals. An utter disregard for the people one professed to love . . . all of these were crimes that George had committed, and she could see no way around it. No way to soften the reality or the impact of the scars inside her, left from the wounds that had formed when she’d learned the truth.

  She wanted nothing more than to bury her face in her hands and have a good cry. Instead, she looked across the coffee table at Odeon. He seemed alert to her mood.

  “He was a bastard,” Odeon said simply.

  “I know.” She sighed. “And thanks. I’ve been thinking about all that.”

  He gave her a soft smile. “I know.”

  She returned his smile. “Well, parents. You know. They’re people outside of being a parent. I don’t want to be a spoiled child, thinking it was all about me, even though it feels like it was.”

  “When someone raises a child, for a long time, it is all about the child.”

  “I agree with you. But I think it’s more complicated than that.”

  “I know you do. But I think it’s easier than that.”

  “He didn’t owe me living an honorable life.”

  “You are wrong. I say that in the kindest way possible, Holly. Both of our parents owe us that.”

  “People make mistakes.” She shrugged, staring at the white end table to the right of where Odeon sat at the edge of the couch, his elbow draped lazily over the arm, the other hand gripping his Ousaba, balancing it between his knees.

  It was a boyish weapon with no defining features. Very simple. Clean lines. Minimalist.

  “And we can forgive them for their mistakes. Yasoans almost have no concept of forgiveness because it is embedded within the idea of balance. It just is.”

  “That’s not helpful. People have to be aware to work out their grief or whatever.” Her eyes were fixed, almost unseeing, on one corner of the end table where the flat edges met.

  Something struck her about the intersection. The black line forming the corner seemed off.

  “Maybe so. Nothing is perfect. Yasoans have never been comfortable holding a grudge, because we know that, to grow, we must always let go of the things that we cannot control.”

  Holly doubted that was true—but perhaps that was simply her projecting onto Odeon what she knew of humans.

  She leaned forward suddenly. “The edge here is weird,” she said, lunging across the fuzzy rug, her hands tangling in it as she knelt in front of the end table. A lamp rested atop it.
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  Holly flicked the lamp on, then felt the edge of the end table and its panels, searching for something. A trigger or a latch of some kind.

  Odeon watched her, and touched the panel himself. His lavender fingers with their silver nails caressed the material. Suddenly the panel opened, revealing a hollow interior.

  “How’d you do that?” she demanded.

  “Magic,” he said, flashing a smile.

  20

  Hidden within the hollow end table that held a secret compartment was an old box full of mementos.

  Holly pulled it out and sat with her legs splayed in front of her and the cache of memories between them. Her fingers trembled as she picked up figurines and items that she hadn’t thought about or seen in years. A doll that had been Meg’s. A small toy sword that had been Holly’s. A carved statue of a dog that had been passed down from their grandparents, supposedly an item that had journeyed across the universe to live with them there in the 6 Moons. Drawings on paper that Meg and Holly had done for their father.

  Rising from the box were musty fragrances that took her back to her childhood home. Her vision swirled with lights and shadows of their condo in the city. She could almost hear her father shouting that he was home. Could almost see the sunlight pouring in through the window onto the floor in the main room of the condo.

  The memory of that pattern of shade from the palm fronds of the plant in the corner danced across her mind as she was transported back to that room, where she would read on the couch by the window. It was her spot. In the distance, her ears picked up the sound of Meg sitting at the piano, plinking out a song, forced to practice by their parents.

  Holly hadn’t thought of any of that in ages. She shook her head, ridding her brain of the spell.

  Odeon touched her hand. “The signs of what he hides in his heart.”

  “Don’t make him kinder than what he is,” she said bitterly.