Shadows and Stars

by Becca Fanning

  Aware of the barely-controlled strength in his grip, she forced herself to relax.

  “Right now, I’ve got a little gift for you. And it will benefit you to play nice with me, so make sure you say thank you.”

  She refused to make eye contact, willing herself not to fight until she needed to. “Oh, I’m not sure I….”

  Her head bounced against the wall as he spun her to one side and pushed her back against the wall. He pressed against her, squeezing the breath from her lungs, and his erection jutted against her hip, hard and insistent. “I said, I’ve got a present for you, witch. Turns out, now is the perfect time to show my friend how a real man behaves. I’m going to lead by example. And, as a bonus for you, I can show you what you’re missing when you spend so much time with that poofter vampire.”

  “What?” She jerked away and smashed her head against the unforgiving wall again. “Vincent isn’t gay.”

  “Sure he is. I’ve seen him, hunched over in the corner of the bar after the lights go down, holding hands with another one of them. He’s as bent as they come. Chased him out often enough, too. I’m still planning how to handle the situation. But I’ll get it sorted. They were never meant to get on board.” His eyes grew distant. “I did my checks. I even know your magic isn’t worth a damn. Still, for this…” He skimmed a hand across her waist. “I relaxed some rules.”

  Gerald bent his neck, pressing his mouth to her throat and suckling on the skin he found there. His rough cheeks scraped over her, and she tightened her mouth against a shriek.

  As tears welled in her eyes, she shook her head. “You have the wrong man. Now, let me go before I scream.”

  “But you haven’t had your present yet. You’re trying to distract me with chat, aren’t you? But you want this. I might even think you’ve put a spell on me.” He pushed against her again and groped around her knees before he pushed his hand further up her skirt. “It’s like a compulsion. I can’t get you out of my system.”

  She opened her mouth, and he clamped his palm across it.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” he chanted in a mockery of childhood reprimand. “No noise from you. I’m in control, here.”

  She shook her head as panic crowded her brain. Fright stalled her flight instinct, and she froze, stiffening each muscle.

  Widening her eyes, she willed him to be reasonable, to stop. His fingernails scraped over her skin, and just as he reached beneath her lacy underwear, he stopped. His eyes dulled and his grip over her mouth relaxed.

  “Penny? Are you okay?” He whispered the words, and she nodded, recognising the expression on his face.

  “Geraldine?”

  There was an answering nod. “What are we doing? Are you having a medical emergency? I don’t understand why I….” Her hand twitched.

  “We’re okay, Geraldine.” A tear escaped from Penny’s right eye, but she willed her voice calm. “Can you let me go?”

  Geraldine nodded again, released her grip, and stepped back, each movement in slow motion. “I would never hurt you.” She whimpered the words. “Did I save you? I don’t know what happened. But you should run.” She gripped her head. “It was all supposed to work so well. I planned to save you—to save you all from your lives before, but so much time is missing, and too many people are unhappy. Where does the time go? What don’t I remember? Lock your door tonight, Penny. Please? I’ll drop by and see you tomorrow—to check you’re okay.”

  As Geraldine slumped against the curved wall on the other side of the corridor, Penny turned and ran from Gerald, and Geraldine’s ramblings, until her legs burned with the effort.

  TWO

  PENNY AWOKE EARLY. No, that was a lie. She’d barely slept. By the dawn hours, she’d taken her fifth shower, each time hoping to remove the taint of Gerald from her body. Once her skin was good and red, and slightly sore to the touch, when she was finally convinced she’d washed all trace of him down her drain, she double-checked the lock on her door and folded herself back under her duvet.

  A dating agency. The thought skittered through her mind. A dating agency. Surely she wasn’t qualified? She wasn’t even dating. That said, she’d set up as a sex therapist and wasn’t having sex, either, so Vincent’s suggestion had the potential to be the least embarrassing of the two jobs.

  Vincent. He needed a warning not to go anywhere near Absolution after the homophobia Gerald had spouted the previous night. Fear trailed icy tendrils over her before she forced her thoughts away from Gerald’s cruel eyes and grasping fingers, and back to Vincent’s crazy career idea.

  First, she’d need to consider the whole population of the ship, and with so many paranormal beings living in a relatively small space, she could have lots of fun coming up with crazy matches and potential magically mixed offspring. A grin came to her lips even thinking about it. She grabbed a notepad and pencil from her drawer and chewed on the soft nub of eraser as she considered what to write. The top line remained glaringly empty. She didn’t even know what to call her almost-business.

  Casting her gaze around her room for inspiration, she tried different agency names in her head, but it was no good. Her room was little more than a prison cell. Seven Foot Square Services or Utilitarian Brown Dresser Agency wouldn’t work. As she studied the familiar space again, a memory of Geraldine’s parting words jolted her, and she put the notepad down. Before anything else, she should pack her stuff and definitely get a new place to live. Anything further from Gerald, although she’d need to keep it a secret from Geraldine, too. Maybe a job so much in the public eye wasn’t such a great idea, and she should be considering that job on Desert Level Vincent joked about, after all.

  She grabbed her communicator and paged Vincent. The good thing about living in space meant days and nights had pretty much ceased to exist for some of the passengers, regardless of how the shutters on the space station were controlled to simulate day and night. And Vincent seemed to follow whatever-the-hell timetable he wanted for his life, anyway, so he was perfect to help her move all of her stuff.

  Well, where ‘perfect’ referred to his lack of discipline with regard to a vampire lifestyle and the fact he was her extremely well-muscled best friend. Both things made him the ideal slave for the day. Plus, she could always use his secret veganism as handy blackmail to encourage his cooperation. Tomato juice, indeed. She rolled her eyes at the thought of his principled protest against his base instincts.

  “Yeah?” His face floated into view.

  “Shit. You look terrible!”

  He blinked, then shook his head slightly and smoothed strands of greasy hair back from his face. Then he coughed.

  “Have you caught a bug? God knows the ventilation system on this shit-station probably needs a good clean.”

  “Uh…yeah. Sorry. I was expecting someone else.” He looked over his shoulder. “I’ll call you later. Gotta go.” He covered his mouth again, and the screen went blank.

  Huh. There went her extra pair of hands for moving, then. She dove back into her bed and wrapped her duvet tightly around herself. Maybe packing could wait the few extra minutes it took to have a nap.

  The communicator on her desk buzzed and she glanced at the screen before answering. “Vincent?”

  “Hi, sweetcheeks. Up for some company?”

  “Aren’t you sick?”

  “Um…all better. Vampire, remember? Immortal and…self-healing. I wasn’t quite myself before, that’s all.” He gave a weak cough and a pathetic smile.

  For a moment, she’d have sworn his cheeks flushed a little, but vampires definitely didn’t blush. She shrugged. Trick of the light. “If you like. There are a couple of things I need you to do with me today.”

  He raised an eyebrow, and she couldn’t decide if it was hope or reticence to do her a favour. A lascivious grin landed him firmly in the ‘hope’ camp. Oops. She went in easy. No point scaring him away before they’d achieved anything.

  “For a start, you can help me come up with a name.”

  “A nam
e for what?” He ducked out of sight.

  “You know, a dating agency. If I go ahead with it, it needs a name.”

  He arrived back in front of his screen and held up two shoes—one a frightening neon sports shoe that looked as if it had time travelled from the 1980s, and one a delicately laced brogue. “Which pair should I go with?”

  “The left. I’m thinking maybe an animal or something? Something to signify what the agency is about?”

  “My left or yours? What? Like rabbit? The Rabbit Dating Agency? You’re seriously going to reference a vibrator right there in the name? How bold. Maybe jump straight to sperm whale? Will that get your message across?”

  She fixed him with an icy stare. “I think you have the wrong idea. In fact…” A delicious urge of mischief crept through her.

  He gave another lift of his eyebrows, this time dismissive, then returned to studying the shoes in his hands. “In fact, what?” He discarded the brogue with a flip of his hand, and she rolled her eyes at his unique taste but continued her thought.

  “What do you think the mating habits are of say…ladybirds?”

  The second syllable of her last word was drowned out in the loud shriek that Vincent forced from somewhere near his balls. “Don’t even…” He cupped his hand over his mouth. “Ugh. I feel so sick now. Why did you say that?” He scratched his arms. “I can feel their little legs crawling on me. Why did you have to mention them? You know how la…la…those little spotted things affect me.”

  “Fear, Vincent? You can say it.”

  He snorted. “Fear. I’m not afraid. Don’t be daft.”

  “Well, whatever you call it. Fear, terror, hysteria. Serves you right if you feel sick. Maybe a little irrational fear will bring your focus back to the task at hand. Sperm whale, indeed.” She let out a hmph of disgust. “Be serious, please.”

  “Okay then… how about praying mantis?”

  “Well.” She closed her eyes to avoid them rolling right out of their sockets. “Let me think about that, Einstein. As you might know, the female praying mantis eats the male after they have…do…you know. So, no. I shall revert to my former suggestion of La—”

  Her screen went black as Vincent disconnected the call.

  “Bye, then. Dammit. I never told him about the physical labour.” Oh well. She turned her attention back to her blank page. Her arm itched, and she scratched at it, tracing lazy circles, but her nails raking over her skin made her think of Gerald. She headed to the shower and switched on the water. As she poured half a bottle of soap on her sponge, her gaze landed on the handle of her loofah. “Perfect!”

  “Christ, woman. What are you wearing?” Vincent stood at her door, hand raised for a second bout of knocking.

  Penny glanced down at her shapeless jumper, several sizes too big, then the baggy tracksuit bottoms designed to disguise her curves. Both obscured her shape altogether. “I’m cold.”

  “Yeah, so are the explorers you emptied out of their tent before you put it on. Go and change into something that wouldn’t fit King Kong. I’ll wait.”

  She leant through the doorway and tugged his arm. “Get in here.”

  “All right, all right. Calm yourself. I get that you want me—you’re only human after all, but what’s so urgent?”

  “I just don’t want to be seen.”

  “Neither would I, wearing that.” His laugh echoed down the corridor, and she slammed her hand against the closing mechanism behind him. “Again, change into something else. I won’t look.” He smirked. “Much.”

  Not gay. She knew Gerald had been wrong. Vincent was definitely not gay. He hadn’t once flitted across her gaydar—even when they first met, and he’d been going through his poetic emo phase. Although, no real harm in checking. Purely for business purposes.

  “So, um…any girlfriends on the horizon?”

  He laughed. “Since we spoke yesterday? Nope. I told you, I’ll be joining your list of clients.”

  “And it is a girl you want?”

  “Instead of what? A rare steak?” He squeezed his eyes into a true hard stare.

  She paused. There was nothing further to ask. He wasn’t gay. Still, she’d need to draw up a list of questions to ask prospective clients. Sexual orientation would need to be on there.

  His eyes narrowed further. “What are you asking me, princess?”

  Now or never. “Um…your persuasion?”

  He caught her and crushed her to him, his arms like a band of steel across her back. “Oh, I can always be persuaded,” he laughed.

  Every muscle in her body stiffened, and she beat her hands against his chest as the memory of being held in Gerald’s grip flooded her with fear. “Get off me, Vincent. Let go, or I’ll scream, and cadets will come running from every corner of the ship.”

  He released her, his eyes wide, and a sob tore from her throat at seeing pain in his eyes. It mirrored the exact feeling blocking her chest.

  “Penny?”

  She shook her head.

  “Penny?” His soft voice wrapped her in a velvet blanket, insisted on the safety she could find with him. But a shiver worked through her, and she shook her head. Falling into Vincent’s deep warm voice and eyes would be anything but safe. Who knew where it could lead them?

  “I…um…I thought of a name. You know, for the dating thing.” Wrapping her arms around herself, she blinked until she forced the tears away and tilted her lips in a smile so fragile it felt like it might break. Changing the subject…the coward’s way out. But cowardly suited her today.

  Vincent nodded and took a step away from her until he could perch on the corner of her bed. “Are you sure that’s what you want to talk about?”

  She tugged her lower lip between her teeth and looked away.

  A sigh blew from him. “All right. I’ll play along. I won’t ask you any questions. What’s the name then?”

  A small genuine smile broke through Penny’s sadness. “I thought you said no questions?”

  “Well…one. One question. Okay?”

  “Two.” She flashed two fingers as she counted.

  “Huh?”

  “Three.”

  He pressed his mouth into a flat line and stared at her until she dropped into the uncomfortable chair at her desk.

  “Okay. Okay. I’ll answer your question.” She reached for her loofah and brandished it at him with over-the-top enthusiasm, then lowered it as he flinched away. Awkwardness seeped through her. Her overreaction when he hugged her had set him on edge. “It doesn’t matter. It can wait. I’m tired. Let’s talk about this another day.”

  He moved off the bed, landing gently on his knees, and shuffled towards her. Keeping her head bent low to avoid the questions in his eyes, she listened to each rustle his jeans made against the thin carpet. When he reached her, he took her hands in his cold ones before he brought her fingers to his lips. “Whatever you need.”

  She drew her hands from his grasp and twisted them together, watching her knuckles turn white and strain against her skin. “Let’s just be normal.”

  He pulled himself onto the bed and slung his arm over her shoulder. “Well, I can’t promise ‘normal,’ but I’ll try to tone my usual ‘outstanding’ down for you. Tell me this fantastic idea for a name. I can always use a good laugh. But let the record show, I still favour ‘Sperm Whale Agency’…just so you know.”

  “Hmm.” She traced her finger over the shape of the loofah—the curly tail, little eye, strange snout. “Well, I saw this earlier, and I remembered these things mate for life, so I thought maybe…The Seahorse Agency?”

  He nodded slowly, as though in thought. “I could get used to that. It’s playing it very safe, obviously, but you can make it work.”

  She watched his face, trying to work out what was going on behind his neutral expression. “I know, I know…you preferred something more—”

  “Risqué.”

  “Ridiculous, Vincent. You would have saddled my new business with a ridiculous name.”
/>   “But definitely not safe.” He grinned. “Not really. You can’t think I’d actually do that to you?” His features fell in his perfected pout, and she threw a gentle punch at his arm.

  “You bet your cold backside, I do.”

  “Want to warm it for me?”

  His usual joking landed too close to the nerve Gerald had tapped, and she flinched away.

  “Hey, what is it?” He removed his arm from her shoulder, and, glad of the space, she forced her breathing to slow.

  “Oh.” She swiped her hair from her face. “It’s nothing. I had a bit of a run in with Gerald last night.”

  “Gerald? You went back to the bar? I thought it was a Geraldine night?”

  “Yep. Me, too. Apparently, it wasn’t. He was on Homestead Level—just loitering around on The Dark Side—and stopped me after I left your room.”

  “And? Did he do something I should know about?” Vincent’s words fell like chips of flint, and she turned away.

  “I got away before he could do anything…”

  “Before he could do anything?” Vincent’s outrage almost had a palpable force. , “You got away? Gerald’s not a small man, Penny.”

  “I know. I know…he…I.” She stopped as a memory forced its way forward. “It was Geraldine. She rescued me.”

  “You saw them at the same time?”

  “Yes. Well, no. Not at the same time. They switched. Geraldine kind of took over and let me go.”

  Vincent blew out a long breath. “I didn’t know she had it in her.”

  Penny shrugged. “Looks like it.”

  His knees popped as he stood. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  “Hey. Where are you going?” She swung her head in his direction so fast that the room got motion blur.

  “Need to see a man about his manners.”

  “What? Who?” She narrowed her eyes in suspicion while she asked the question she already knew the answer to.

  He tilted his head a little, suddenly looking not quite human. “Nobody important…as it happens.”