1
A lot can change in six years. A lot can remain the same as well. The pain of loss and emptiness never fades. Only alcohol can ease that constant gnawing depression of an unsettled soul.
Wine and whiskey are Silver's best friends, his psychologists, and his lovers. He meets with them every evening after work. They always listen to his problems and never judge him for his mistakes. Sure, alcoholism runs in his family, but addiction is the last of his worries at this point. Silver knows that if he doesn't remain loyal to his ritual at the bar every night, the numbing fog will wear off, leaving him exposed and vulnerable to the emotional minefield around him.
The bar is quiet tonight. Maybe it's the snowy weather or that it's this close to Christmas. That's one human holiday the Nymphs chose to adopt, though the true religious meaning has been lost for many years. Silver used to love seeing the candlelight service outside the cathedral down in Paradise on Christmas Eve. Every year, he would sit outside and hold Jayce while they listened to the choirs fill the night air with their haunting hymns. He never had much money for gifts, but he had his husband. As long as they had each other, they didn't need much more. Silver never asked God for anything else. If God was gracious enough to bless him with a love like that, then who was he to beg for more? But Jayce is long gone. This is no time to be reminiscing about the past and something he cannot have again. Instead of dwelling on that misery, Silver sets his mind to drown it away in a strong drink.
The room is filled with hushed conversations and some old Earth Christmas records playing. A cloud of cigarette smoke hangs in the air like an ever-present storm front on the verge of drenching the world with a deluge. He makes his way across the cold wooden floor to the counter, leaving icy prints from his boots behind him. He sits at the bar and waves for the bartender who knows him well.
"What will it be tonight, Silver?"
"Whiskey. No ice."
"Any preference?" The bartender asks.
"The strongest you've got."
A minute passes and the bartender sets the glass down. "Got any plans for Christmas?"
"No."
"Not in the mood to talk tonight? Just let me know if you need anything."
Silver sips his whiskey as he studies the young man sitting next to him. He has long black hair covering half his face. He looks rough with his thigh-high leather boots, red silk shirt, and studded leather pants, but innocent at the same time with his clean-shaven face and slim build. A black trench coat is draped over the back of the barstool. What an interesting man. Even from here, Silver can smell the man's scent of mesquite and gunpowder. Who is this handsome stranger?
The young man looks over at him. "You look down."
"I just have a lot on my mind."
"You're not alone in that." The man finishes his scotch and rolls up his sleeves to reveal a black cobra tattoo on his right forearm. "You know, I came here looking for a way to get my mind off of things. You got any ideas?"
Silver hurriedly drinks his whiskey. His hands have grown sweaty and his heart flutters. This man looks so much like Jayce. Even the tough appearance reminds Silver of his late husband. He is admittedly attracted to the man. "Uh . . . I don't know. Let me drink some more and we'll talk."
"If it's my age you're worried about, don't be. I'm eighteen."
Hold on. This conversation got serious extremely quickly. Silver had no intentions of that. He orders another drink.
"Nice knife. Can I see it?"
And it begins. It's not like he can say no. Silver pulls his combat knife from his belt and slides it across the slick counter to the man. "It's sharp."
The man picks it up and pricks his finger with the tip of the blade. The deep red blood beads up from the wound until it trickles down into his palm. "Looks like I got some blood on it." He licks the length of the blade as he stares into Silver's eyes. He then hands it back to him. "There."
Silver replaces the knife on his belt. "Th-thanks."
The man pours the last few drops of his scotch on the cut and hisses through his teeth as he clenches his fist. "You're staring at me."
"Sorry. You're just very . . ."
He grins and raises an eyebrow. "I'm very what?"
"Attractive." Why did he say that? What is wrong with him tonight?
"I'm not gay."
All of Silver's thoughts shatter as he blushes and focuses on his drink. "Sorry. Forget I said anything." He jumps when the man's hand slides up his leg.
"I said I'm not. I didn't say I couldn't try."
"Wow. You're putting a lot of pressure on me."
"Isn't that what it takes sometimes?" He winks at him.
Is this actually happening?
"How about you buy me a drink and we see where this goes?"
He will regret this. "Why not? What will you have?"
"I'm thinking a nice 2206 Himmel vintage cabernet sauvignon. Nothing too fancy."
Is he serious? "That's a five hundred dollar bottle of wine."
"Is that a problem for you?" The man asks.
"No. I just didn't expect someone as young as you to be interested in a fine wine like that."
The man orders his wine then pours himself a glass. He swirls it in the crystal glass and sniffs it. "Some call me a wine enthusiast. You like wine?"
"Very much. May I?"
"Go ahead."
Silver pours a glass and sips it. "Nice."
"Do you know how to tell a good Himmel wine apart from wines produced in any other part of the galaxy?"
Silver leans in close. "Tell me."
"The fragrance must fill your mind and excite your senses. The first taste dances on your lips, awakening every cell in your body as your tongue tingles and begs for more. It's a delicate kiss that draws you closer, fully enveloping you in sweet addiction. It's the silent seduction of an angelic lover."
Silver is grasping the edge of the bar stool. Damn. "I . . . uh, okay. If you're good, let's do this."
The man finishes his wine. "Where do you want to go?"
"I have a room nearby."
"Lead the way."
* * *
Silver unlocks the door to his room in the Eremos Excavation Guild headquarters and quickly leads his guest inside before locking the door behind them. The last thing he wants is for one of his colleagues to start asking prying questions about his love life. They're just nosy enough to do it. He turns on a floor lamp and brushes the snow off of his coat.
After unlacing his boots and leaving them by the door, the young man goes to the kitchen area and begins rummaging through the bare cabinets. "Got anything to drink?"
Still wanting to drink? Silver knows just the thing. He pulls out a drawer and retrieves a bottle of red wine from the back. He unwraps the cloth from around the dusty bottle and sets it on the table along with a glass. "Try this. I made it myself."
He sits and examines the bottle. "Oh? You make your own wine?"
"Yeah. My husband . . . never mind." This isn't the place to be thinking about Jayce.
The man leans back in his chair and places his feet on the table. "You're married?"
"Oh, no. Not anymore. I was many years ago. Let's not talk about that. I'm much more interested in you right now. How's the wine?"
He sips it and breathes deeply. "Delectable. It's very light and refreshing, but with an adventurous side. It's thrilling, like leaping through a burning building or burying yourself in an avalanche while naked."
"I can honestly say that I've never heard someone describe wine quite like you do."
"We can drink more later." The man takes Silver's hand and leads him over to the bed. He removes his clothes.
Silver's eyes scan over the young man's smooth body. The only body hair is a tiny patch of black hair on his chest. His tanned skin almost glistens in the lamplight. Dark silver rings adorn his nipples. He notices the golden apple and spider Nymph tattoo on his back. Something about the skin on the left half of his body is rough. Is that a burn?
<
br /> As the man pulls down Silver's cargo pants, he touches the metal. "Titanium from the knee down?"
"I was burned at the stake a long time ago when Nymphs weren't welcome on Himmel. I'm a Nymph-human hybrid. I was born human then exposed to nanobots and turned into a pseudo Nymph."
"Ah." The man pushes Silver down on the bed and kisses his chest.
"Seems like you've had an experience with fire as well."
"Forget it. Concentrate on our bodies and how I make you feel."
Silver reaches up and moves the man's bangs out of his face. "These burns . . . I didn't catch your name."
The young man grins. "My name is Paris Cunningham."
"Whoa!" Silver pushes him off of his legs and quickly pulls on his pants. "No, no, no, no, no. Paris? Oh my God. Paris! Get dressed. Oh my God."
"Hi, Silver."
Silver grabs a trashcan and vomits as his hands begin shaking violently. After a few minutes of dry heaving and trying not to lose his mind, he sits on the bed and finally calms down enough to speak. "How far were you gonna let this go?"
Paris's giddy giggling fills the room. "I don't know. As far as you wanted it to, I guess."
"Are you gay?"
"I don't know. When do you usually figure that out?" Paris asks.
"You're eighteen? That's right. Six years. You're a grown man now. You've matured so much."
"That's what puberty does for you."
"Where have you been?" Silver asks. "Did you escape?"
"Nope. Uriel let me out."
"Why?"
Paris buckles his belt. "Because I completed my training. I guess I've been turned into his perfect little obedient dog at this point."
"He sent you here, didn't he?"
"I did." Uriel steps out of the bathroom. His white wings shimmer in the dim light. "Well done, Paris."
"Thank you, Father."
Uriel snaps his fingers and Paris goes to his side, just like a loyal dog. He pats Paris's head. "Good boy."
Silver glares at the archon. "Why are you in my room?"
"Because I knew you would want to see your beloved Paris."
"How thoughtful for a demon. What's the real reason?"
"Still as harsh as ever, aren't you, Silver?" Uriel asks, his amusement written across his face. "I came here to offer you a proposal. Well, proposal is too friendly. I believe ultimatum fits better here. Forget these idiots here in the guild and come join me in Athens. My country is thriving and I need a mercenary with your skills in combat. You would be a valuable asset to my ultimate plans. And think about it. You would see Paris as often as you wanted. Sounds nice, doesn't it? You could get revenge on Hector for all the humiliation and abuse he put our dear Paris through."
Silver glances between the two of them. "No. Leave now, both of you. I don't want to ever see you again, Paris. You broke, didn't you? I don't know what he's done to you for the past six years, but it's all too obvious that you aren't the Paris I once knew."
A spark of pure pain flashes in Paris's large black eyes. "No. Silver, please!"
"Shut up and get out of my sight. If either of you comes back here, I will kill you."
2
"Daddy!"
Orion sets the pile of blankets down on the table inside his tent. He brushes the sand from his knee-length tunic made of zebra skins and pushes the little girl gently away. "Hold on, Lily. Give me a minute. Where is your mother?"
The girl with the black curls jumps up and down as she points back outside. "River."
Orion unpacks the loaves of unleavened bread from his pack and stacks them on a wooden plate on the table. "Why are you alone up here?"
"Sad."
He kneels down in front of his daughter and takes her tiny face in his hand. "Why are you sad?"
"My bunny died."
"Oh. I'm sorry, baby. Tell you what. Your daddy is gonna go find you another bunny. How does that sound?"
"A little tiny one?"
"Sure." Orion picks the tiny girl up and carries her outside. He smiles as she plays with the green glass beads woven into the braids of his midnight black hair that symbolize his position in the tribe as a green man, or breeder. It's his job to produce children for the future of the tribe. That sounded great at first, but three wives and five children later, he is fully aware of how much work having a family is. But he loves it.
As he reaches the sparkling blue water, he spots all three of his wives bathing together under the hot desert sun. He waves to them and they smile and wave back. He sets Lily down and she runs to join them. The newborn baby is bundled up in a blanket and nestled securely in a basket by the tall reeds and the two slightly older girls are crawling around playing with gourds that have dried and make a rattling sound as they shake them. Orion can't help but smile at them. Though there is one missing.
Aurora, his first wife calls to him. "Orion, join us!"
"Yes. You can settle an argument we were having." Luna, his third wife, says as she splashes water on the other two. "She thinks we should take the children out to the savannah to see the zebras."
"Zebras?" Orion asks. "Why zebras?"
Stella, his second wife, who is obviously pregnant, wrings the water out of her waist-length hair. "Little Babu wants to see why you wear the skins of a zebra."
"Yes, your son is a troublemaker."
Orion grins and puts his hands on his hips. "My son? Don't you mean our son, Aurora?"
"When he's bad, he's all yours."
"I see. Where is my son?"
She smiles and points back towards the rows of white tents. "Where do you think? He's in the healer's tent with his best friend, well other than you, of course."
"Of course. Stella, why are you against taking the children out there?"
"It's dangerous."
"We could just take the older ones."
Someone's weak voice calls down to them. "Good afternoon, everyone."
Orion turns around to see Troy being led down to the riverbank by Babu. Troy's eyes are covered by the black cloth wrapped around his head and tied under his shoulder-length white hair. His skin is pale from being inside all the time and he hasn't shaved in two years. Orion thought that might have changed, but he looks good with a beard. It's not even a full beard. "Troy, you're not supposed to be outside during the day. You know how rough this sun is on your eyes."
"My little helper here decided I needed to come see the river. He was right. It is pretty today."
"How much can you see through that?" Babu asks.
"Enough."
"Babu, go play with your sisters while I talk to Troy." Orion puts his arm around Troy's back and leads him down the water's edge. He sits him down on a large rock and sits beside him. "Are you making any recovery?"
"This cloth helps to dull the bright lights while still letting me see. I can go around like this most of the time. Oh, and I haven't been wearing it at night, even around the fire."
"That's good. And your muscles?"
He moves his arms. "They still ache most of the time, but I did fine when I went out leading the hunt yesterday. Of course, I was in pain and slept for close to twenty hours after I got back, but I'm fine."
"You're stubborn. This is why we told you not to go out there. Alix can lead them on his own."
Troy runs his hand over the orange beads around his upper arm. "I'm the tribe guardian. I can't sit here while the warriors are out hunting. It's my job to go with them and lead. How can I be a leader if I'm constantly tethered here?"
"You're in pain."
"I already said I'm fine."
"You're a liar." Orion slides his hands up Troy's legs, under his tan tunic. "Your knees are swollen."
"I just did too much yesterday. I'll be more careful in the future."
"Are the medicinal herbs not helping?"
"Not much anymore. At least I can walk now." Troy snickers. "That's a step in the right direction."
"You're not funny. I'm worried about you."
Tro
y's mood goes completely dark as he pulls away from Orion. "You didn't worry about me six years ago."
"We did what we had to do. You were infected and we couldn't take the risk of you transmitting the virus to the others."
"So you left me in the desert to die."
"I truly believed you were dying anyway." Orion says. "None of the healers thought you could recover. When you crawled back into the village a week later and we found you in the river, it was like a miracle. I don't know how you survived in the desert with full fledged Ebola for a week then made it back here on your own. Honestly, I'm not sure I should know. At that point, Chief Seri went crazy. He started praying and sacrificing chickens. You were unconscious from dehydration and exhaustion, so you didn't see it all. He felt your return from the dead was some sort of a sign."
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Come on, Troy. It's been six years. You didn't actually die and be reborn . . . did you?"
Troy kicks a clump of clay that rolls down towards the water. "If that's your number one problem right now, you truly are a simple man, Orion."
"The mystic believed you were possessed by a demon."
"No."
"Some of the teenagers say they saw you die in a fire then grew wings and flew here."
"What?" Troy asks.
"Then Alix swears you turned into a lion and ran here."
"Stop. If I haven't told you in this long, then I'm not going to tell you at all. Let it go."
Orion puts his hand on Troy's shoulder. "I'm your friend."
"That doesn't make me want to tell you. It's over."
"But the thing is, it's not over. You're obviously still hurting. You're nearly blind."
Troy scoffs and tosses a pebble into the water. "I'm not blind. I just can't see in bright light."
"If we ever make it back to civilization, we'll be able to get you to a doctor and with their medical technology, they should be able to do surgery and fix your eyes. If not, then you can look like a genuine badass and wear sunglasses all the time."
"We're never going back."
"Why do you say that?" Orion asks.
"It has been six years. When we first came here, I thought they were joking about leaving us here for five. They probably forgot about us."
Paradise Forgotten Trilogy Page 41
