Magistrate Collette Toulane wished she were jogging the path with her daughter, but Regine was heavily pregnant and toting three other children. So they were walking and letting the kids run circles around them. The river walk was the best place to see the open sky, and Collette had been having premonitions lately of something falling out of it.
The power of premonition was a rare curse in Nola, but it didn’t disrupt her life the way telepathy or other psychic abilities would have. Her first strong premonition had been of something falling from the sky, back when Regine was only five years old. She’d misinterpreted the vision of the future as an imminent threat and knocked Regine to the ground, scaring her to death and scraping her little knees. Collette hated her curse, but she trusted it. She’d reported the vision to the Chief of Safety, and the Chief set up a telescope to watch the sky. Three years later, the vision came true. A burning hunk of ancient space debris fell, but the city had been tracking its decaying orbit for months and they were prepared. They’d pulled all the sheep from the fields, and only lost an acre of grain to fire.
“Has Corin even touched his piano?” Regine asked, inquiring after her little brother.
“Hmm?” Collette asked. “Sorry, I thought I saw a bird. Corin’s fine.”
“That’s not what Dad says,” Regine said, snatching a piece of bark from her two-year-old’s hand before the toddler could put it in her mouth. “I saw Judith last week. She seemed upset when I asked about Corin. I guess they had a fight or something.”
“We all go through phases in life,” Collette dismissed. “He’s only just starting his career as a Prince. Sometimes hobbies take a back seat.”
“Judith is more than a hobby,” Regine said. “I know you never liked them together. Just because the kid you see in your premonitions isn’t theirs, doesn’t mean they don’t end up together. Amar isn’t yours and you still raised him.”
Amar was Regine and Corin’s older half-brother through Festival, not marriage. Collette may not have birthed him, but he was every bit her child, and Regine had a point.
“She’s Fotri. If she actually wanted him, she could have him. He deserves someone who desires him as a man,” Collette said, her obstinance kicking in. “But I was talking about his piano. He’ll find time again.”
“I guess,” Regine sighed, glancing over at her eldest son. “Bernie misses him.”
Collette smiled at the seven-year-old. Bernie looked like a miniature version of his father, with dark, wavy hair that fell past his shoulders. “He could come to the Palace. I hear he has quite the piano talent himself.”
“He doesn’t have Corin’s ear. He reads his music,” Regine said.
“That will only make him better,” Collette said.
“Mom, don’t say things like that. You sound like you’re ashamed of Corin,” Regine chastised. Corin loved his piano, and he’d been playing beautifully by ear since age four. His ear had saved him through his schooling and Prince training. He could barely read, but he could recite and analyze long speeches after hearing them only once.
“He knows I’m very proud,” Collette said automatically. “He’ll be happy again, soon.”
“What you see might not come true if we don’t help him get there,” Regine pointed out.
Collette felt a flash of guilt. She knew Corin was upset about the fire last Festival, but whenever she tried to talk to him, he’d make an excuse and run to his textile mill. Collette had seen Corin’s future in a persistent premonition. He ran a clothing shop filled with colorful, ornate designs, and though he steered his little girl toward the simple, durable fabrics, she reached for the beads and sequins just like he did. He didn’t look like a Prince in Collette’s premonition, but she hoped that somehow his work was helping him heal.
The vision of the object falling from the sky repeated. She saw the orange glow as it hit the atmosphere, heading straight for their city.
“Premonition?” Regine asked, her cheeks twitching with concern. As slow as they were going, she could tell when Collette missed a step.
Collette smiled, and blinked her eyes to clear the haze. “Nothing imminent. I—”
Her vision went fuzzy again, but this time, she felt something like a knife slashing across her forearms, and she heard a cry. Then she saw a woman lying on the ground, bleeding. At first, she thought it was a vision of herself. But then she heard the cry, and she ran toward the sound. A woman lay on the ground moaning and rocking side to side. She had bleeding gashes on her forearms. They didn’t look like knife wounds.
“Mom, what’s going on?” Regine hollered, hustling to catch up. “Is it a gator?”
“I don’t see one. Regine, keep the children back,” she ordered. She tapped the emergency radio in her pocket. “Dispatch, I need wildlife control and a medical team at river marker—” she glanced around but didn’t see a post. “Marker!”
“Thirty-two!” Regine replied. A crowd was starting to gather, most holding back their children.
“Thirty-two,” Collette said, putting her hand on the woman’s arm to staunch the blood. She glanced down at her clothes, looking for something she might use as a tourniquet. “Calm, darling. Breathe,” she said to the woman. “What happened?”
“Magistrate,” the woman rasped. Then she screamed and brought her hands up to protect her face. Collette threw her body over the woman to protect her, but when nothing happened, she lifted off and looked around. The crowd stayed back.
“What happened?” Collette asked again.
“Spirit,” she whispered.
Collette’s eyes widened and she scrambled away, frantically wiping her bloody hands on the grass. Her mother had been possessed by a spirit. That was how Collette became cursed with premonitions.
“You’re a Questre?” Collette asked. That was the word they used for the possessed. When Questre died, their spirits jumped into the next nearest host and took over. Collette would rather die than let a spirit take her.
The woman shook her head. “She hit me,” the woman said.
“Who? A Questre?” Collette asked. Any Questre hunter knew better than to kill their prey in public. The only way to spare the next victim was to isolate the body. The person had to die alone.
“More than a Questre. A real spirit.”
“Spirits don’t leave gashes like that,” Collette said.
“This one was solid. It could touch me,” she said.
“Where did it go?” Collette asked, looking into the sea of gathered people. She had to keep them safe!
“It flew away,” she said. Her eyes closed and Collette scrambled back again. She hit the leg of one of her service officers who had arrived with the medics. They quickly established a barrier and encouraged the crowd to disperse.
“Magistrate, are you hurt?” The Prince of Law asked, putting his arm around her and bracing her wrists, bloody palms up. He was a portly man, about ten years her senior, and he was puffing for breath from running to her rescue. He seemed determined to prove that casual walks through the city were not safe for Magistrates, and he often had one of his officers trail her when she left the Palace. He must have come running the moment he heard her voice on the radio.
“The blood is hers,” Collette said, wrestling to get free of his grip. The Prince was cursed like her, and when he grabbed victims like that, it was so he could read their minds and get a clear view of the incident before the memory got muddled. “Be careful with her. She claims a spirit attacked.”
“A new Questre in town,” he asked, sounding delighted at the prospect of the hunt.
“It can’t be. No. She said it flew away. Questre don’t fly,” Collette said, trying to twist out of his arms. He kept a firm hold of her wrists.
“I will test this blood and see if she can be traced to a cursed line,” he said. “It’s possible this woman has been driven mad by her premonitions. But if you do suspect she’s Questre, we could kill her to be sure.”
“Don’t you dare talk so casually about
killing the innocent,” Collette said, kicking his shin to make him let go. There was plenty of blood from the woman for him to analyze.
“You used to be so eager to abolish the Questre. Now, your loyalties seem to be toward them,” he taunted.
He narrowed his eyes, but she narrowed hers back and squared her shoulders. “You think I’m one of them, don’t you?” she challenged. Now it made sense why he was so eager to track her on every errand. He didn’t trust her.
“The other cursed never have the clarity in premonitions that you do,” he said. “You seem to have something extra. Maybe something your mother gave you to carry.”
“I made sure my mother’s spirit died with her,” Collette retorted. Her mother’s face flashed before her eyes. The old woman had carried the spirit for decades, knowing full well Collette would be cursed by it. Collette was certain she’d killed the beast, and she had to live with the fact that she’d condemned her mother with it.
“We don’t criminalize your curse because we want others to feel confident coming forward to report Questre,” the Prince said, handing her a rag to clean her hands.
“My example is hardly motivational, since my reward for speaking out was watching my mother burn,” Collette said. “We drove out the Questre in our parents’ generation. Our children don’t inherit the curse. In another generation, we’ll be free of these vile spirits. Assuming this woman hasn’t unearthed a new crop of them.”
“She was attacked by something physical. We can kill something physical,” the Prince assured.
3
Through the panoramic window on Oriana’s observation deck, Sky had a chilling view of the red moon Caldori on the far side of the planet Aquia. The sight made her yearn for a home she could never go back to. She’d left to protect her family from the vicious spirit she carried. Though her heart was still beating, her life ended the day it took her.
It had been a quiet afternoon on the farm, only a few days after her cousin’s funeral. They didn’t know it then, but Yana had been killed by a spirit. The coroner couldn’t explain how Yana had asphyxiated in an open wheat field, when she had no history of breathing problems. Then Sky found her aunt in the kitchen, asphyxiated in the same way. She barely had time to process the sight before she felt a jolt through her body, then the sensation of the demon trying to claw its way out of her chest. Teeth, talons, and toxic fumes—that was how Sky experienced Spirit.
The ship’s dorsal thruster fired, correcting their course, and Sky bounced off the ceiling. Her vision went red, and through the fire, she felt a whoosh of caustic fumes burning her lungs. If she closed her eyes, Spirit would kill her, and curse a new host with its parasitic existence. After carrying this creature for ninety-seven years, she wished it would talk to her and tell her why it had killed her family. Why it was trying to kill her.
Sky flailed and kicked, feeling the creature’s talons piercing her skin.
“Sky! Sky!” Tray Matthews shouted, poking his head through the hatch that led down to the wardroom.
His voice anchored her, and the flames subsided from her vision. Her face was hot with tears, and her skin felt cold. She remembered kicking off her boots, but she’d ripped off her sweater, too, and her satchel was flying.
“Flashback?” Tray asked sympathetically, catching her sweater from the air. He didn’t know what she’d been through in life, but he knew it was bad.
“I’m fine,” Sky said, snatching her satchel. Her limbs seemed to seize and snap, and she wondered if the lack of gravity was killing her. She hadn’t been able to rest since they left Terrana, and they were still thirty-six hours from landing.
“Good. Put your shirt on,” he said, handing her the yellow fleece. He was a dark-skinned aristocrat, and a stickler for propriety. It was because of him that this ship didn’t use artificial gravity. Exposure to even low, therapeutic levels could trigger massive internal bleeding in him.
Spirit rose like bile in her throat, ready to kill her and take him as a host. “Don’t touch me. You can’t touch me!” Sky ranted, kicking him away, bouncing off the ceiling again. She put Oriana in danger every hour she stayed, and as soon as they landed, she planned to run.
“Relax. I wasn’t going to,” Tray said, tossing the garment at her chest. “I have a question, when you get your top back on. Unless there’s something you need.”
“I need to get off the ship,” she panted, pulling on the fleece. It was soft and luxurious, but she needed her travel clothes. Then she realized that Tray was still looking at her, waiting for a tangible way to help. “What’s your question, Skipper?” she asked.
His lips quirked at the moniker, and he glided down the ladder to the wardroom, motioning her to follow. He was pretty good at looking too arrogant to be offended. He’d mellowed since she met him, in part because he got himself a girlfriend, and in part because he got to go home and meet his kid. Those kinds of normal, family moments just weren’t in Sky’s future.
Taking a deep breath, Sky smoothed her hair and her clothes, as much as they could be smoothed in microgravity, then grabbed her boots and sailed to the main deck.
The two chairs in the wardroom had been pushed aside and Tray floated in front of one of the consoles. He had two Virclutch tablets tacked to the console, and a few old-fashioned binders floated on chains next to him. The old computer on Oriana was fickle, and Tray insisted on having physical back-ups of communication and landing protocols.
“Take a look at this map,” Tray said, projecting a map onto the display next to his so that Sky wouldn’t have to hover over his shoulder to read it. The map was two-dimensional and showed cities all across the planet.
“Is this Aquia? Where did you get this?” she asked.
“Terranan database. We brought down a government. I hacked as many files as I could before we left,” he said, a hint of pride sneaking in. “This map pre-dates the closing of the domes.”
“Pre-dates the war. Pre-dates the Kessler cloud,” Sky added. The war between Caldori and Aquia had nearly destroyed both worlds. All the survivors on Aquia had retreated into enclosed cities and isolated themselves. The lack of oversight of their orbiting satellite constellations had led to cascading collisions and over the past four-hundred years created the Kessler cloud that obscured the land. Damage from the cloud combined with a computer failure, was how Oriana found Sky. She’d been trying to get away from the cities, to save them from Spirit, but Danny had been tracking the Bobsled from the moment she stole it. He’d expected to find a friend, and he found her instead.
“The domes were built over or near existing cities. One of these has to be Cordova. You said it was on the eastern continent,” Tray said. “Do you have any idea what the ancient name was?”
Sky pursed her lips. She’d hoped the crew had given up the quest to find Cordova’s advanced medicine. “Don’t read too much into these land masses. Half of these continents have been swallowed up by ocean. Your home is this inland piece at the base of the mountain range,” she said. “The domes were built between the cities where there was more open land, which is why the names don’t match up.”
“It’s hard to imagine Quin as a land-locked area. There’s so much water that swim lessons are considered a basic life skill. Based on the position of the mountain range and what we mapped on the ground, I think I’ve found Quin, Boone, and Rocan on the western continent,” he said. He projected a new overlay of the places they’d wandered over their months together. “This is where we’ve been. It’s hard to believe it’s such a small area.”
“Considering spaceships aren’t designed for low-altitude air travel, I think it’s amazing we got that far,” Sky said. She pointed to one of the dots on the northern part of the eastern continent. “I think Cordova is one of these. Coastal. Latitude’s about right for how low the sun got on the horizon in winter. But all the rivers have moved. It’s a long shot.”
“But we’re in a spaceship, and it makes more sense to come at our target from space. Ha
wk’s people need some kind of medicine that we don’t have. They deserve more than basic survival supplies,” Tray said. “They’re dying out.”
“There’s no guarantee that their Malady is curable,” Sky pointed out.
“Rocan or Cordova. Tell me what to do, Sky,” he said, wringing his hands.
“Shouldn’t you be asking Hawk what he wants to do?” Sky asked. “It’s his mission. His homecoming.”
“But you’re the one who planted the idea of Cordova in his head. You promised to take him there, and we promised to help him because he helped us,” Tray said. “Do you think it’s worth it? Do you think they can save his people?”
“I don’t think it matters. I don’t think Hawk should go home. Ever,” Sky said. Rocan was a terrible place, destined to die on its own soon enough. Hawk deserved better. For all the times she’d failed to run away from him, she couldn’t help but believe their fates were entwined. She hoped Hawk would one day free her from Spirit without becoming cursed himself.
“He has to at some point, doesn’t he? We all do,” Tray said, then he looked pitifully at Sky. “I’m sorry. I don’t even know where home is for you.”
Sky shuddered. She wished home could be here. Or anywhere with people that she loved and cared about. On Oriana, the crew knew her secret, and they didn’t try to hurt her for it, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be hurt by it.
There was a scream from the bridge, followed by swearing, then wailing.
“Chase!” Sky called, pushing off the console and flying onto the bridge. Chase was a spaceship engineer who’d signed on as a pilot. He’d been tortured by a Guard on Terrana and the damage to his right hand was so severe that he had lost dexterity in his fingers. He floated over the engineering console, swearing under his breath.
“Amanda, are you in control?” Sky asked, checking on the young woman in the pilot’s seat.
“Danny to the bridge,” Tray vrang, summoning the Captain.
“Chase wasn’t flying. I’ve got this,” Amanda said. Her shoulders were tense and her eyes were firmly locked on the console. She was a good pilot, but her mental health was volatile enough that they wouldn’t let her fly alone. “He was running a simulation and lecturing me on solid fuels a second ago.”
Premonition: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 7) Page 2
