Starlight and Candy

by K. T. Flores

  The Mediator was an intergalactic chain club. Everyone was welcome so long as they left their differences at the door. Tauri had only been a handful of times. It was beyond her sector, and she didn’t much enjoy the flashing neons and bone-jarring music.

  “I can’t decide where I’d hang out in a club if I were a hacker,” Cyril said above the music as they entered the Mediator. Sweaty bodies swayed and brushed into them as they wove their way inside.

  Tauri gritted her teeth, reaching out and gripping Cyril’s forearm. The last thing she wanted was to get separated from him. She called over the music, “One of the VIP areas. But that could be on the top floor or bottom floor. I think he’s usually up top.”

  She tugged Cyril along, tightening her grip as the crowd continually moved. The Mediator had five usable floors. She craned her neck upwards, but none of the faces leaning over the banisters were distinguishable.

  As Tauri made it to the last step, her heart leapt to her throat. She pushed Cyril against a wall a couple of steps below her, placing her palms on either side of his head. With her height advantage, she did her best to hide him. She leaned her forehead against the wall, hoping her hair did well enough to cover his face.

  “Drop your head a bit,” she hissed urgently. “I see Fili.”

  His hands dropped to her upper thighs, using them to cover his glimmering skin which was made brighter with the shifting lights. His forehead pressed against her collarbone, air from his nose tickling the skin of her chest. She fought hard to suppress a shiver and fought even harder not to inhale his scent. But that was impossible with him so close. There was a fresh sharpness to him, and she felt like she was inhaling woods and snow.

  Tauri shifted slightly to glance back at the guardian, painfully aware of Cyril’s fingertips pressing into her pelvis.

  “Don’t move,” Cyril warned. “I should be able to spot him through your hair if you tilt your head a bit.”

  She took a breath through her mouth, nodding. She didn’t trust herself to speak, especially with his lips brushing against her top. It was unintentional and unavoidable, but a war waged within. She wanted to both move closer and back away from him.

  What would it feel like to run her hands across his chest and down his arms as his fingertips brushed her—

  No, she snapped at herself. Focus! You can think about your feelings some other time.

  She rested her forearms on his shoulders, hunching over him. “Do you see him? Is he gone?” she asked, resisting the urge to look up.

  “Yes,” Cyril said, but he sounded off. Strangled. He squeezed her legs ever so slightly, she wondered if she had imagined it.

  Tauri immediately ripped herself away, nearly tumbling off the stairs. She caught her balance before he could catch her, and she refused to look at him as she stormed onto the fifth floor. The VIP rooms lined the back wall, separated from the open floor by glass. Those inside decided if they wanted privacy behind frosted glass or to continue looking out.

  Tauri squeezed through everyone until she stood before the final room on the floor. She could feel Cyril the moment he stepped behind her, and she nodded resolutely.

  “This is the one,” she said, trying not to let apprehension overtake her.

  Her hands quickly made work of the keypad locking the room from wandering clubbers. She held out her hand, and Cyril gave her the multitool. The pants she was wearing were too tight to hide the device without the guards commenting, but it fit into his unit holder easily when collapsed.

  She ticked the multitool’s dial until a thin, flat file popped up. She wiggled it between the wall and the pad carefully as she searched for the emergency bypass button.

  “Tauri,” Cyril began in warning, “security is looking.”

  “I know,” she muttered, her actions intensifying.

  “Tauri…”

  “I know!” she snapped, spinning around as the button clicked.

  A security guard appeared at her elbow and she tittered, collapsing against Cyril’s chest as if she were drunk. “Oh, I finally got the code!” She gave the large Canis a dopey grin.

  The canine humanoid narrowed his eyes at her. “Is there any trouble here I need to worry about?”

  “Of course not! I just”—she blinked blearily and inhaled, ruffling Cyril’s hair with another laugh—“I just forgot the code for a second.”

  Cyril gave a tight smile, hands stiff on her upper arms. “She wouldn’t tell me what it was when she got it, the drunken little bully.”

  The warmth in his voice indicated affection despite how tense he was. Relax, she thought to Cyril in a panic.

  The Canis’ sense of smell was one of the best in the galaxy. She just hoped there were enough other stimuli in the club that he wouldn’t notice something amiss.

  Like the fact that she had no alcohol in her system.

  But the security guard shrugged. “Next time, make sure you both know the code, or mark it down on your holowatch,” he said, gesturing to her wrist.

  She nodded enthusiastically, leaning forward to point randomly at his windbreaker. “Of course! I love your jacket—”

  “I apologize for her. She had a few more drinks than we agreed,” Cyril said, pulling her back to his side.

  The Canis shrugged. “It’s only my business if you two are causing trouble. Have a good rest of your night.” He turned away, disappearing into the crowd.

  Tauri rolled her shoulders back, tilted her chin up a notch. “Well, that wasn’t ideal.”

  “Not at all. I’d like to avoid a repeat of that,” he said, eyes skipping around the room.

  “It’s not as if I could help it.” She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, we don’t have time to waste… I hope this is the right room.”

  “Wait, you’re not sure this—”

  She shoved the door open with purpose, cutting Cyril off. He grumbled behind her, his words lost to the echoing drums. She probably enjoyed interrupting him as much as he hated to be interrupted.

  No one in the room startled at her entrance, too busy drinking and dancing.

  All but one in the furthest corner of the room.

  Her eyes met with warm crimson, and she smiled smugly. “Empyrean,” she called, placing a hand on her hip.

  He wiped the blood off his chin, licking the back of his hand to ensure none was wasted. “Taur! What are you doing here?” he said over the music, waving her to his corner and shooing away the couples nearest to him. Empyrean grinned, fangs glinting. He lounged back on a small couch, one of his legs propped up on a small bench. His wrist lay on his knee, and he swirled his drink. A curious gaze flicked between her and Cyril.

  As she neared, she tried not to stare. His sun-kissed skin was speckled with blood.

  “Bloodsucker,” Cyril said, tipping his head forward in greeting.

  “That obvious?” Empyrean laughed, fingers swiping at his chest. He examined the blood on his fingers, sticking each one in his mouth. “Usually I’m a little cleaner”—he smirked around his index—“but sometimes I can’t help myself.”

  His sheer burgundy shirt was partially buttoned up, left front side tucked into his belt. The puffed sleeves cinched at his wrists, allowing her a moment to appreciate the variety of ruby and gold rings he wore. Intricate, abstract patterns of gold and red decorated his black pants. He tapped his foot along to the music, but the sound of his red suede loafers was lost in the noise around them.

  “It’s been a while,” Tauri said carefully.

  His tongue wrapped around his thumb. “Indeed. What can I do for a little mechanic and her expensive highlighter?”

  Cyril bristled, but she dug her nails into his wrist. She cleared her throat and smiled as graciously as she could muster. “I—We need your help.”

  The vampire nodded slowly, turning his gaze to a window overlooking the cliffside. “And here I was thinking you just wanted to say hi.” He raked a hand through wavy, chocolate locks. They fell back into place over his eyebrow and bounced against
his ears.

  “Hi,” she said with a smirk.

  He rolled his eyes. “Yes, hello. I know why you’re here. The same reason Fili was I’d wager.”

  “Fili came to speak with you?” she asked, leaning forward, exchanging a glance with Cyril.

  “He wanted help erasing videos and files. But I told him no. Getting involved with corrupt guardians isn’t worth my time. No matter how many units or other things they offer.” Empyrean’s expression was far away. He shimmied his shoulders and returned to the present.

  “So you can help us?”

  He barked a laugh. “Don’t waste your breath. I don’t do guardian shit, especially if it’s Vice. I know that’s what you’re going to ask me to do.”

  “We’re not leaving until someone helps us,” Cyril asserted.

  Tauri winced at his threatening tone but nodded in agreement. They were out of options, and Empyrean was their last hope.

  The vampire grinned. “I imagined you wouldn’t. How have you been, Cyril Oich?”

  “You know him?” Tauri asked.

  Empyrean snorted. “Anyone with an idea of what is going on in the galaxy knows him. Him and his little Oich Dynasty. Where do you get all that taminite? I wonder… Is it fake?”

  Cyril stiffened beside her. “I can guarantee you it’s not.”

  “Was Kira here to dispute the lost taminite shipment?” Empyrean wondered gravely, turning to Tauri. “You have no idea what kind of mess you’ve gotten yourself into, and I hope you’ve been asking the right questions. This isn’t just about Navar, and I refuse to get involved with something like this.”

  “What is this?” Tauri demanded.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cyril said at the same time, taking a large step forward.

  But she leapt to her feet, using her body to block him from advancing. She glanced up at the Dagrian with worry. He was an expert at schooling his expressions, but she’d started noticing the telltale signs of his anger: a tightness in his eyes. The shifting in his jaw. His ears would move slightly. And his lone dimple was showing again, but the turn of his lips wasn’t a smile.

  “If the Oichs are involved, then nothing good can come of it,” Empyrean said, taking a swig from his wine glass.

  “How dare you talk about my family like that, you—”

  Tauri cut off Cyril, lowering herself into Empyrean’s space. She placed a hand on the arm of the couch he was on, pushed her face into his and snarled.

  The situation was very clear to her. She and Kira were accused of murdering Helden. And if she didn’t find Kira, Tauri was stuck on the run or in prison for the rest of her life. Unless, as Fili had warned, the court would decide to sentence her to death. She didn’t care about the Oich-Ru and taminite games. She had read all about them, and she wasn’t scared by whatever Empyrean had to say.

  This was about her and Kira.

  “You don’t understand.” She punctuated each word carefully, trying not to shake in her anger. “There are guardians trying to kill me for things I didn’t do. I couldn’t give two shits about the Oichs.” It wasn’t necessarily true, but he didn’t need to know that. “I belong in the fucking stars, and I can’t get there without finding Kira. Either you help us, or I keep that chip you asked me to make. And if I’m still upset with you—”

  He perked up, not bothering to hear the rest of her warning. “You finally finished the modifications?”

  She was thankful for the interruption. She wasn’t sure what else to threaten him with. She would never go to the guardians, and they both knew that.

  She shoved her face further into his, and he shifted back further into the seat. “Funny, I can’t seem to remember any more,” she said.

  He put his glass down, looking up at her. “Would you be able to remember if I help you?”

  “Not just remember,” she confirmed tersely. “I might even be able to give it to you right now.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he glanced over to Cyril. “Show me the chip.”

  “Don’t look at him. You’re dealing with me,” she snapped as she dug into her pocket. “Start talking, and I’ll show it.”

  Empyrean scrambled to say, “Go talk to my sister. She’s on the bottom floor. Third room from the front. Just let her know I sent you.”

  She offered the chip. “I modified it like you’d asked, but you’re going to have to program it yourself. It took longer than I think either one of us expected. If your sister can’t help us, you’re going to. And if you don’t, you’ll regret it the rest of your life.”

  “Sure, sure.” He tilted the chip up to the lights, turning it from side to side. He didn’t believe her, his tongue held between his teeth as he pushed down a laugh. “She’ll help you. If there’s ever anything you need…”

  “Apparently not anything if you aren’t willing to help me now,” she said lightly.

  He went quiet, face growing serious. “I hope you two figure everything out. And I’m sorry if it goes sideways. Be careful, but I wash my hands of this.”

  She pulled away, taken aback by the starkness and sincerity in him. “Thank you. Since when did Polaris do illegal work? I thought she wasn’t thrilled when she found out about your line of work?”

  He snorted, tilting his head back to rest against the seat. “Things change when different people are involved”—his gaze slid to hers—“as we know.”

  “See you around, Empyrean,” she said, spinning on her heels.

  Whatever he replied, she missed. But the sudden weight of Cyril’s palm against her back made her hesitate. She wanted to look back, a small part of her afraid Empyrean would be murdered, too.

  But she shook the feeling and led the way to the bottom floor.

  Chapter Eight

  Tauri grabbed a drink from the bar. She welcomed the burn along her throat.

  “We’ve got two more floors to go,” she said, slightly out of breath.

  Cyril hummed, and she glanced over at him.

  “Let’s keep moving,” he said.

  She nodded, grabbing his wrist as they delved into the crowd once more. She came up short in horror. More guardians. “Turn around,” she instructed hurriedly.

  But he shook his head, noticing what she had seen. “I can’t. There’s more behind us.”

  She pushed further into the dancing crowd, and he followed. When she felt they were hidden enough, she wrapped an arm around his neck, dragging his forehead to her nape.

  “I’ve never seen this many here before,” she said. “Something’s not right. We need to wait a bit until there are less on this floor. I know where the back stairs are.” She gripped his shoulder with her free hand to steady herself against everyone bumping into them.

  One of his arms snaked around her waist, the other going to her hip. “So, either you’re going to stand there,” he huffed against her skin, “or you are going to move. We stick out more if you don’t dance."

  She inhaled deeply, face hot. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath since he’d touched her. “I don’t dance,” she stated.

  His fingers along her hips encouraged her to sway left and right. “Follow the beat. And stop looking like you ate something rotten. Relax your shoulders. Step closer to me.”

  She shuffled forward, gasping at the way he fit against her body. She tightened her grip on him, embers smoldering low in her belly. They weren’t here to have fun and dance, but she couldn’t help the desire to be closer, sweatier.

  She shoved the tantalizing thoughts away, recalling Empyrean’s words.

  “I hope this works,” she muttered, but Cyril didn’t seem to hear her over the music.

  He squeezed her hip, his index and middle fingers slipping under her top. His nails scraped along the sensitive skin of her curve, and she jerked into him at the intrusion.

  Their lower halves snuggly fit together.

  Her heart was beating so loud, she feared it would break her ribs. She moved her hand to his neck, sur
prised to find his pulse pounding nearly as fiercely as her own.

  The music washed over her, slipping into her bones and encouraging her to move as she hadn’t before. She was filled with a strange braveness. It encouraged her fingers to inch across his jaw, behind his ear. Her tips rested carefully against his hair as her thumb rubbed his cheek.

  But then the song changed, and the moment was shattered.

  She tore herself from him, bumping into the people around her. No one paid any attention, but Cyril’s eyes trailed after her, glazed and distant.

  She cleared her throat a few times before saying, “They’re gone.”

  She scuttled to the back stairs. Elbows were raised to jab anyone that got in her way. Whether or not Cyril was following didn’t matter. Space was what she needed, and it was difficult to get inside a nightclub.

  She glanced down at her holowatch for the VIP code Empyrean had sent. The buttons were sticky, and she contemplated wiping her hand on Cyril’s shirt. He was standing too close to her again. But the silk was technically hers, and she didn’t want to have to clean off the unknown gunk later.

  The frosted glass door slid open, and the two of them moved in.

  Two women sat on the couch, one draped over another. At Tauri and Cyril’s entrance, they moved apart.

  Polaris looked up at the intrusion, frowning slightly. She wore a dark teal tailcoat, its lace lining a mixture of purples, pinks, and bright greens. Her white pants hugged at her hips and calves, and her heeled pumps were the same blue as her top. Her heels clacked as she shifted her feet.

  “Thank you for your gift,” Polaris murmured. Her dark pink lips left an open-mouthed kiss on the neck of the other woman.

  Polaris licked her lips as she watched the woman back away on unsteady legs. Her dress was askew as she ran a hand over her black hair. She looked to be some sort of elf from the markings across her exposed skin and the sharp points of her ears. Perhaps she was a Terrae elf, but Tauri wasn’t sure if the protrusions on her head were horns or antlers.

  She wobbled past, and the door slid shut. The music was difficult to hear through the room’s thick insulation.