There were beds in the middle of the room, so Amanda picked the nearest one and lay down. It wasn’t as comfortable as the bed in the room, but the sheets felt soft. An older man leaned into her field of view and Amanda quickly showed him her pair-ring, hoping he’d move on.
“You may return to your room if you wish to be alone,” he said in Trade, giving her a gentle smile. Her Virp translated his words to Terranan. He had the same eyes as Corin.
“Magistrate?” she asked, rolling onto her side. There was no Terranan translation for the title, but her Virp was able to translate the guttural Terranan sounds into Trade ones.
The Magistrate nodded, and curiously looked at the device mounted onto her fingerless green glove. The Prince of Textiles had insisted on making her something elegant to match her dress, since she wasn’t fluent in Trade, and needed the device.
Amanda called up a sketch she’d made of Galen, then used her Virp to project the image. She was about to ask the Magistrate if he’d seen the half-breed, but the man frantically flapped his hands through the projection like he needed to squash it, so she deactivated the projection.
“We don’t allow spirit images here,” he whispered, sitting on the bed, leaning in close so that they wouldn’t be overheard. “This used to be a temple filled with their images, but they are unworthy of our worship. We have purged them from this town. We don’t allow spirits here and we do not display their likeness.”
“It’s not a spirit image,” Amanda said, sitting up and getting tangled in her long dress. “It’s more like a police sketch. Of a half-breed. Part human, part spirit.”
“Half. Solid?” the Magistrate asked. “Is it violent?”
“No… maybe,” she stammered. “They’re like people. Everyone is different. This one’s a healer, and a bit of a collector.”
“You’ve seen more than one?” he asked.
She nodded.
“Did you come here looking for one?”
She shook her head.
“Why did you show me the picture?” he asked.
“There was a woman in the window earlier. She saw a half-breed in her premonition. I sort of shared the vision,” Amanda confessed. Sky had warned her never to claim she had visions of the future, and she hoped this didn’t come back to bite her later.
“You’re a memory reader?” he asked.
Amanda shook her head again. “Do you have those here? I could feel a telepath in this room.”
“You’re cursed,” he said.
“Very much,” she agreed.
“And Collette saw this creature in her vision? The Magistrate. Madame Magistrate,” he stuttered over the title. “She was watching you earlier. She said you shared the premonition. I didn’t believe her.”
“What I do is… not normal,” Amanda allowed.
“No cursed power is. You’re the child of a Questre.”
Her Virp didn’t translate the word Questre, and she gave him a questioning look.
“One of your parents carried a spirit,” he explained. “Are they dead now? Is that spirit dead? Or do you live in peace with the Questre?”
“My parents were just regular people. The half-breed that I drew… he gave me this power,” she said. She worried about implying she had any power over death, so she didn’t go into how.
“In your premonition, did you see the creature here? Do you know where it will be? Is there a way to track it? How did you escape the one who cursed you?” he asked, his questions snowballing. Amanda realized that he had no idea where the half-breed was, but she got the sense by his questions that he’d seen evidence of one, and it was violent. Amanda wasn’t as eager to find a violent one.
Then she felt that stabbing pain in her gut again. The blood drained from her face, and she laid down on the bed. “I think I do need to return to my room,” Amanda whispered. She held up the ring and pointed in Hawk’s general direction.
“The creature?” the Magistrate asked insistently, his face creased with worry.
“I don’t know where it is. I had hoped you would. That’s why I showed you,” Amanda said, closing her eyes and pointing to Hawk again. A few moments later, she felt Hawk’s hand on her face.
“Hey, bébé,” he whispered. “Can you walk?”
“The pain comes in waves. I need a minute,” Amanda said, taking his hand. “Sorry to ruin your night.”
“It was getting strange anyway,” Hawk said, looking over his shoulder. Corin stood a few steps back with a woman on each arm, a look of pure disappointment on his face. “He’s not sending these two away.”
Amanda searched for that telepathic power that had been flitting around the room, but she didn’t need to be a mind reader to sense Hawk’s nervousness. Hawk helped Amanda to stand and she nestled into his arms.
“Corin, I’m sorry. I have to go,” Hawk stammered.
“I understand. You need to care for your wife,” Corin whispered. He looked down at his feet, then leaned back into the arms of his two friends. One seemed nervous for him, and the other seemed relieved.
“Goodbye, Douglas Hwan,” Corin said.
“Such finality,” Hawk smiled, thumbing Corin’s cheek. “Won’t I see you in the morning?”
The look on Corin’s face told Amanda everything she needed to know. She’d seen that look in Danny’s eyes, when he’d reached the darkest depths of his depression and lost all hope for tomorrow.
“Invite him to come with us,” Amanda said.
“What?”
“Hawk, I’m sick. I’m not blind. Just get me back to the room, and then the two of you can enjoy your night out of the public eye,” Amanda said. The two women weren’t there for Hawk to breed with. Corin had planned on using them to orchestrate an exit. With Hawk. If his plan crumbled, Corin would not be there in the morning. Amanda reached out and took Corin’s hand. “Prince, come stay with us tonight.”
19
Sky felt like she was flying as she twirled about the dance floor following Danny’s skillful lead. The air caught her skirt and it flared high, showing off her legs, then suddenly, her body was pressed to Danny’s and he trotted her off in a new direction. He claimed he was out of practice, but Sky could barely keep up.
The party grew livelier and more joyous by the hour. People came prepared with their mood enhancers, and despite their rings, she and Danny had been solicited a dozen times by singles and couples.
“There is no art in this room,” Danny said, slowing his pace and letting his arms fall to Sky’s waist. “No icons. No distinctive patterns. It’s unusual for a building of this significance to be devoid of national iconography.”
“Maybe they took down the good flags so people wouldn’t tear them down and use them as bedclothes,” Sky suggested.
“No. They’re encouraging breeding. Nationalism—‘do it for your people’—is the only way you can keep people coming to events like this,” Danny said.
“Maybe they just enjoy it,” Sky said, resting her cheek to his. “That’s the Magistrate. He’s been sitting by himself since Amanda talked to him,” Sky said, nodding toward the couch nearest the dance floor.
The Magistrate was a tanned, silver-haired man with a sleeveless silver suit and gem-studded bangles reaching half-way up his arms. He had the lean muscles of an athlete and the hard gaze of a man who had spent too long in power.
“Has Tray noticed?” Danny asked.
Sky scanned the tables and couches. Saskia was half out of her dress and Tray’s hands wandered over her body as he kissed her lazily, enjoying her attention.
“I hope this wasn’t a bad idea. He’ll punish himself for months if he loses his pants,” Danny said, blushing on behalf of his little brother. His body twitched and he tapped his wrist, silencing his vibrating Virp. “That’s my cue.”
Amanda was calling. Sky’s mood instantly soured.
“Hawk is with her,” she said.
“Hawk left her to chase his Prince,” he said. “I don’t think he’s just doing it
for the textiles, but I expect some quality trade deals come morning.”
“Guess I’ll find my own Prince. Or Magistrate,” Sky taunted. Danny gave her a fast but tantalizing open-mouthed kiss, then hurried out the side door leading back to their room. When the door closed behind him, she felt empty, but she knew it was the wine.
The Magistrate caught her eye again, and she held her hand out to him, beckoning him to join her on the dance floor. He held out an empty glass and a wine bottle.
“I hope Amanda didn’t offend you earlier,” she said, sitting on the arm of his couch.
“I’m not offended, Captain. My curiosity is piqued,” he said, shifting to make room for her and putting his jewelry-laden arm around her shoulders.
“Sky. Please, call me Sky,” she said. People here were obsessed with titles, and Sky had been introduced as co-captain with Danny in the confusion. They supposedly shared the position, just as the two Magistrates here shared their office.
“Jeremiah. But don’t tell anyone I permitted that,” he laughed. “It’s a violation of Protocol and if I weren’t drunk, I’d care.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Sky said. His touch made her feel warm and eager. “Do you get many travelers?”
“We’ve seen traders from all around, but we have trouble attracting settlers. Hence the Festival,” he said vaguely, waving his fingers in the air. “I haven’t seen an airship since I was a boy. Yours is the first spaceship.”
“Do you know of a place called Cordova?” Sky asked.
“Officially?”
“Of course not. It’s Festival,” Sky replied. “Anything official waits for morning.”
“Unfortunately,” Jeremiah allowed. “Sterile, the whole lot. No sustainable resources. I doubt they’ll be around much longer. They are not worth trading with, Captain.”
“Sky,” she corrected. She wasn’t sure why it made her angry that he forgot.
“I am intrigued by these wrist devices. They are able to project images. Our radios don’t project,” he said, poking drunkenly at her wrist.
“How far is Cordova?” Sky asked, pulling her hand away.
He looked up at her, so blitzed out of his mind that he seemed to forget there was a person attached to the Virp. “Is this information worth something in trade? I will trade in the morning,” he crooned. Sky didn’t know whether to argue or take advantage of him. The wine was getting harder to fight.
“Excuse me, Magistrate. Captain,” the Secretary of Palace Affairs interrupted.
The Magistrate popped up, trying to look sober, and Sky panted, both relieved and frustrated. She wanted to be touched. The Secretary gave him a nudge and he tipped sideways onto a pillow.
“Are you ready for another dance, Captain? Um, Sky,” the Secretary asked.
“With you?” Sky asked, her insides tingling with hope. “I thought women didn’t dance with women here.”
“We don’t,” the Secretary said. “That man by the dance floor asked me to ask you. He’s a doctor. Doctor Haren Gossard. I know your people like to hear names. He offered this.”
She held up a blue-shaded cylindrical candy.
“Mood enhancer?” Sky asked.
“He claims it’s a regular marshmallow,” she smiled. “I don’t know if that’s insulting or sweet.”
“Sweet,” Sky said, taking the marshmallow, testing it against her tongue. She didn’t need any more convincing.
Danny was disappointed to cut the night short. He knew if he stayed at that party much longer, he’d wind up on a couch with Sky, engaging in some public exhibitionism of his own.
“Amanda?” he called, coming into the room. The lights were dimmed but not off. Amanda’s new dress was draped over the couch. A bowl of lamb stew was spilled on the floor.
“Danny! I need Morri’s bag.” Amanda was in the bathroom.
“Be right there.” Danny found the bag tucked into a drawer in the side bedroom designated for her and Chase. Most of what Morrigan had brought was for anxiety and panic attacks, headaches, and minor cuts. Amanda kept her psych meds in her coat pocket.
In the main room, the comforter was hanging off one side of the bed and the pillows lined up longways like a warm body for Amanda to snuggle. There were a few drops of blood on the cream-colored sheets.
“Did you cut yourself?” Danny asked, fishing a knitter out of Morrigan’s bag.
Amanda didn’t answer.
Danny checked Amanda’s folded clothes. The wrist sheath was there, but not the ankle sheath that held her knife. “Amanda, where’s Henry?”
Henry was what she’d named her knife. He heard her retching and abandoned the search. Rushing to the bathroom, he found her on the floor next to the toilet clutching her stomach. There was blood on the towels, on her clothes, on the floor, and on her face.
“What did you do?” he asked, dropping the medical bag. “Give me the knife. Give it to me,” he demanded, running the washcloth under the sink.
“It’s not that. It’s not,” she moaned, wrapping her arms around her stomach and pitching forward.
“Is it the food?” Danny asked. When they’d first rescued Hawk, he got sick all the time from unfamiliar food and Danny hoped she hadn’t fallen victim to food intolerances.
“I feel sick thinking about food,” she groaned.
Danny didn’t see the knife. Kneeling next to her, he wiped the blood off her fingers. There was no jagged slash across her palm where she used to cut herself. He dabbed the blood from her cheek.
“Where are you bleeding?” he asked. She was pale and sweaty, and when he touched her, she leaned heavily against him.
“Inside. It aches. Help me,” she murmured, rolling onto her side.
“I’m trying to help. I don’t know what’s wrong.” He pulled her hands off her belly, but the nightgown was whole. All the blood had been transferred from something else.
“Catamenses. Get the blood off my hands. Get it off!” she begged.
Suddenly, she broke into Moonspeak. All illusions of her health and beauty were gone, and she was back to being the frail schizophrenic who half the time didn’t even recognize him as a friend.
“The cat? Are you kidding me?” Danny cried. “Don’t you have a chip that regulates that?”
The fact that evolution hadn’t put a stop to female menstrual bleeding on its own was a testament to how random and unreliable the process was. Medical science had filled in the gaps with chips that regulated hormones to prevent chaos like this. But Amanda wouldn’t have a chip because permanent regulators were not installed until age twenty. Amanda had been only seventeen when she Disappeared.
“Morri, I need advice,” Danny said tapping his Feather. He knelt next to Amanda and cleaned her hands, trying to summon Morrigan in between prayers.
“Girls in school always said this was inconvenient. I guess I never appreciated how inconvenient it could be,” Danny said, turning on the water for the bathtub.
“Danny?” Amanda murmured, squinting her eyes.
“You want me to stop whining?” he asked, trying to get the nightgown over her head without smearing her with blood.
“The water smells funny,” she said, leaning against him, holding the nightgown down to keep herself covered. He wasn’t accustomed to worrying about modesty with her. When she was having an episode, a switch flipped in his brain and he just tried to tune out the horror and take care of her.
“The blood is triggering. And it hurts,” she said, taking slow, deliberate breaths. She was speaking Terranan again, so at least he had that. She crawled into the tub on her own power and then removed her nightgown but kept it over her chest.
“Where did you get this nightgown?” Danny asked.
“Drawer. The Prince left them for us,” Amanda said. “He didn’t want us sleeping in our formal clothes. He’s hurt. I hurt.”
“I know we brought painkillers that are safe for you,” Danny said, rooting through Morrigan’s bag, swearing more than he ought to,
given that she was the one bleeding and in pain. “It looks like a massacre in here. Oh, Zive, why now?”
“Can’t you smell it? It’s in the air. In the food. In everything. Fertility enhancers,” she answered. “Danny…” She panted, waiting for the strength to form words again.
Danny found some pain pills that worked for twists and sprains and handed her that. “Let’s see if that helps.”
Amanda dropped the pills in the water. Taking a calming breath, Danny shook out two more, put them in her mouth, and made her swallow. It was frustrating how normal it felt to do this. The first time he’d forced medicine down her throat, he’d been so afraid he was going to choke her.
“You were fine this morning,” he said, sitting by the tub and keeping a hand on her shoulder so she couldn’t go under. “You were doing better. You were so much better.”
“I am better. The reason this is happening now is because I am better. Didn’t you see me in the mirror? My body is ready to do this again. I can still have a family,” she said, getting choked up at the thought. Her hands were wrapped tightly across her chest. It was different now. She was healthier than she used to be, and he needed to respect that.
“I hate baths,” she said.
“Well there’s a shower over there,” Danny said, tipping his head. “Does it hurt to stand?”
“And sit and lie down,” she replied. “Mom says it runs in the family.”
“Do you see her now?” Danny checked, caressing her hair. She nodded and pointed over his shoulder where the hallucination of her mother stood.
“So hard to hold on to what’s real,” she murmured. “This place. I don’t like this place. Elysia was safer. I want to go back.”
She switched to Moonspeak again and Danny cringed, fearing the psychotic episode that usually accompanied her devolving into that language. Lifting her out of the tub, he wrapped her in a towel and carried her to the main room. Her clothes were there, but he didn’t want to soil them.
“We should have gone back to the ship right away,” Danny said, tapping out a message to Morrigan, hoping she’d respond soon. He’d learned to deal with schizophrenic episodes, but add in catamenses, and he was out of his depth.
Premonition: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 7) Page 13
