Transitions: Novella Collection (The Biodome Chronicles series Book 2.5)

by Sundin, Jesikah

  Breathe, she reminded herself.

  She had to keep moving forward and plan her life without him. It helped to lessen the heartache and fear. Investing in her own future and career had brought a form of freedom she had never experienced before. Like roll-around-in-it, throw-your-hands-in-the-air kind of happiness. She didn’t ask her dad’s permission. She didn’t seek her mom’s counsel. She plotted her own course—separate from her family, separate from empire-building for Fillion, separate from helping Coal blend in with the real world—and acted on each choice with emerging boldness.

  It was terrifying, though. The persistent dread that somehow she had done something wrong or had somehow disappointed her parents gnawed at her gut. Not hearing from either her dad or mom on the subject intensified the anxiety. They had to know. But they left her alone. It was weird.

  And with increased anxiety, came the internal battle.

  The shadows whispered their familiar taunts and laughed at her flailing attempts to start her own business. She struggled to comprehend the logistics behind opening a non-profit organization. But she’d get it, eventually. There was no rush.

  People gaped and snickered at her with disbelief at times. She ignored them. They didn’t see the real her. Talk shit, strangers and city officials. Go ahead. Beware of the Eco-Princess, daughter of the world’s Corporate King, who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty or admit that she doesn’t understand laws and business requirements. If they weren’t judging her over this, it would be over something else anyway.

  Still, the embarrassment wormed holes in her confidence.

  Lynden shifted her attention from the Seattle skyline to her new tattoo. The green linden leaves and ivory flower clusters popped out against her black and purple plaid visual kei dress. “I remembered,” she whispered to the tattoo, as if it had the power to tell her brother, who had returned to Massachusetts yesterday. Content, she lifted the bento box on her lap close to her mouth and used chopsticks to pick up a sushi roll, when a familiar, lilting voice spoke from behind where she sat.

  “‘Under the linden tree, on the heath, where we two had our bed, you might find both beautiful flattened flowers and grass. At the edge of the wood in the valley, tandaradei, the nightingale sang beautifully.’”

  The chopsticks paused mid-air. Lynden squeezed her eyes shut and fought the smile that started to form, as well as the tears.

  Toughen up.

  Bury your emotions.

  “Allow me,” he said, now before her on the blanket.

  Calloused fingers coaxed the chopsticks and bento box from her hands. Searing flames shot through her veins when his skin brushed along hers. Still, she kept her eyes closed, too afraid that if she opened them, he’d disappear. Too afraid of how she’d react if he remained.

  “I brought transforming strawberries,” he continued, a thread of uncertainty in his thickened accent.

  Her eyes flew open and landed on a face she’d yearned to see for weeks. She wanted to jump into his arms. Allow him to feed her strawberries beneath the falling petals. Kiss his face silly. Instead, she blurted, “What in the hell are you doing here?”

  “Mack told me where to find you.”

  Her eyebrow lifted in surprise. “And how did he know?”

  “Tracker.”

  “What?! I’ll kill him.”

  Coal rolled in his bottom lip as a muscle pulsed in his jaw. In a choked whisper, he said, “I am so sorry, Lyn.” He hesitantly met her eyes. “I had to see you. If you do not wish to see me, I shall leave your presence and cause you no further grief.”

  “I... It’s just...” She inhaled a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’m freaking out.”

  “I am as well.”

  “You hurt me,” she said, clenching her teeth as tears stung her eyes. “I trusted you.”

  “You deserved my honesty for a while now, rather than my pride. It was inevitable that you would learn of your father’s ... plan. But I could not bring myself to share this detail of my life with you.” Shame rolled across his features as he pulled out an envelope from his pocket. “Before you make any decision as to our future, I do ask for you to read this letter. It confesses what I am not at liberty to speak aloud. The consequences are dire.” His eyes collided with hers in a thunderous storm of restrained emotion. He placed a lighter on the blanket beside the bento box. “When complete, please light each page on fire and throw it into the river.”

  “Does my dad know you’re doing this?”

  “He knows I am in Seattle, but not that I am making a full confession.”

  “And if he finds out?”

  Coal sucked in his bottom lip again. “I am comforted in that he believed you already knew. If he did not care then, why should he now?” He rose from his kneeling position on the blanket. “I shall walk the river if you wish to find me.”

  “What if I don’t?”

  His breath hitched and he turned his face away. “Then, My Lady, please know that my greatest pleasure in life has been falling in love with you in newer, deeper ways each day since first I met you. I do not regret a single second, regardless of how our time together came to be.” Bowing deeply, he whispered, “And I shall never stop fighting for your heart, Lynden Nichols.”

  She watched his retreating form, her pulse seeming as ephemeral as the wilted, bruised sakura blossoms falling into her lap. She was tougher than this, even though the hand holding his letter trembled. She could burn it right now and never know a single world. Her thoughts glitched in and out of focus until the gilded bars to her cage appeared in her vision.

  What did she want?

  She didn’t have to please Coal. She didn’t have to sell herself to promote her dad’s grandiose plans for the future. She wasn’t responsible for her brother’s success.

  Her thumb caressed the surface of the letter. She’d learn this truth one way or another. Coal declared it was inevitable.

  She was a mighty huntress—sleek, sexy, sinew and strength combined with grace and cunning. Lynden removed all traces of the helpless, damaged, freckle-faced girl and slipped a fingernail beneath the seal and opened the letter.

  My Dearest Lynden,

  How does one even begin such a confession? I fear my heart shall bleed until the letters are no longer legible. Rather, it shall be paper smeared with remnants of fathomless emotions I never wish to see an end to and some I wish I had never known at all. I shall do my best to make sense and to honor you in the words that follow.

  I love you, Lynden. I love you so completely the intensity is frightening. Every day I am humbled that I—a mere man, dust of the earth—possess the privilege of protecting the life you have bonded to mine. Before you roll your eyes and declare that my male pride is distasteful, consider this: I know your soul. For this honor you have gifted me, I would be remiss to not bare my soul in return. Yet, I did not.

  For this failure in protecting you, I shall never forgive myself.

  Lynden lowered the letter to her lap and wiped away her angry tears. Inhaling a deep breath, she exhaled slowly through clenched teeth and began reading again.

  A few weeks following the Great Fire, I learned a terrible secret. I alone know this secret in New Eden for your father required that I sign a legal document ensuring my silence. As you know, I am not to enter New Eden without an escort and I am limited to two short visits per month, except for ceremonies and feasts. This is to ensure I remain true to the terms and agreements in that contract. The notion that I owned a choice in signing or refusal of that document is laughable. I possess little to no rights in reality.

  “No,” Lynden whispered. “Oh god.” She knew what was coming. She re-read the last line and a shiver danced over her skin. How she had failed to recognize the signs until now, she didn’t know. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to see it, pretending instead that he really was forged from a fairytale. Her knight in shining armor. The dragon and the princess. Slamming the letter down, she blinked back her grief and peered out over the water.
The stone in her gut scraped over her raw, blistering pain and she nearly cried out.

  But I could not bring myself to share this detail of my life with you.

  She understood the blinding shame. And, if Mack hadn’t opened his big mouth to Coal a couple of years ago, she would’ve hidden the inevitable, too. She knew the degradation of being owned by another, of being seen as less than human, of being sold off for the entertainment of greedy monsters. And worst of all, her dad had known what she was doing and never interfered. Was it so she’d never feel reviled by his plan to whore her off to a man from New Eden? So she’d be easily dazzled by the romantic gestures and acts of honor, knowing they’d continue to break her spirit?

  The ground in her mind split open and the shadows appeared, aroused by her festering emotions, red dripping from their exposed fangs, the blood lust blazing in their gaze. Swallowing back her fear, she picked up Coal’s letter and jumped off the ledge and into the abyss, letting go of all thoughts of self-preservation. Shrieks and cackles of delight followed her descent into the black. There was no turning back now. The letter shook in her hand, and she continued to fall.

  Contrary to Hanley’s stated purpose, the experiment was not designed to test my generation’s ability to sustain life while confined and isolated, nor to test the survival prowess of the generation before mine. It was to produce a product. Though scientists can perform miracles with human DNA, they cannot manipulate epigenetic tags the way they can design blue eyes or blonde hair and select gender. Humans have yet to permanently colonize the moon or Mars because their genetic code is programmed for Earth. They cannot separate from their mother planet for long without going mad. New Eden Biospherics & Research offered a theory to counter this problem by suggesting that colonization could be achieved through the alteration of genetic memories, by erasing remembrances of Earth through environmental conditioning.

  I am the product of this science experiment. My genetic code was engineered through psychological and environmental conditioning and through transgenerational epigenetic inheritance in the lab at N.ET. Therefore, in accordance to the federal laws governing genetic engineering, I am human property of New Eden Biospherics & Research.

  In my selfishness, I wished to hide my shame from you. I wanted to know that when you looked upon me, you saw a man and not a slave. Curse my male pride if you like. I shall not refuse you this satisfaction, for it is nothing compared to the grief my silence has caused you, or the physical hardship I had not known you suffered.

  The implant to monitor for pregnancy was required, I have recently learned, because N.E.T. would own our child. I cannot even begin to express my sorrow with this revelation, nor the rage for how the lab has treated you. With my body, I have worshiped you, my love, and my only regret now is that I may have unwittingly caused you pain no woman should ever know. Now that we are both informed, I wish to make it explicitly clear that I would protect you with my life, even welcome death defending any child our acts of love conceive.

  Lynden gulped a sharp breath. Her body began to tremble as rage settled in her bones. Like Coal, she’d die before she’d allow anyone to take a child of hers for human trafficking operations, even those glossed over as “science” for positive public opinion and support. Fury tingled in her blood, like a lit fuse.

  Her dad was smart to leave her alone right now—the real reason he hadn’t interfered with her business start-up plans. He knew Coal would share. And, when he did, she’d explode and make a scene unlike any to date. Hanley would appear the villain. How could he not?

  Fillion was right. Their dad wanted her to believe she was crazy and melodramatic. Her hazy self-doubt would be easy for him to spin into golden threads of victimization.

  She wouldn’t play into his plan. Wouldn’t let him win.

  A strand of blood-red hair fluttered in front of her face as she returned her focus to the letter.

  In my heart, Lynden Nichols, you are my wife. I shall never love another with my body and soul as I do you. However, the law forbids legal unions between human property and free humans. If we should venture to be so bold, New Eden Biospherics & Research would be required by law to permanently separate our lives upon discovery of our marriage. Lab-owned humans are allowed to breed (such a disgraceful word). But they are not to form families outside “their kind” to protect the integrity of their DNA—and, perhaps moreso, to protect that of free humans. Common law blocks our ability to live together as we would eventually be seen as domestic partners.

  I have nothing to offer you save the beating heart in my chest. If it is still good enough for your love after all you know, I shall be the happiest of men. Please be warned, however, that I shall endeavor to prove myself worthy of you for as long as I draw breath. I made my vow to you as a man free to choose for whom his heart beats, a choice I would make a thousand times simply for the honor and pride of declaring that I am yours.

  With all my love and affection,

  Yours truly,

  Coal M. Hansen

  Lynden leapt to her feet and ran toward the Duwamish River, Coal’s letter crumpled in her hand, the bento box, strawberries, and blanket all forgotten. Grass and pink sakura petals moved beneath her in a teary blur. Picnic-goers and Companion drones froze into still-frame images of shock and curiosity as she dashed past. Screaming their cruel words, the shadows chased after her. Their whips of torment lashed with each step, flaying the flesh of her self-worth until the bones and marrow of all her insecurities were revealed.

  Her mind screamed, “No pleasure from my pain!”

  She refused to grant them an ounce of power over her.

  On the crest of the hill leading to the river, she stopped. Wind ribboned around her in cool comfort. The tight skirt of her dress pressed against her thighs, and her hair fanned away from her face. Coal stood at the bank, his back turned to her. He stood tall, a solid wall of muscle and conviction. The afternoon sun dipped low behind the bronzed buildings on the horizon, illuminating his body in a soft, golden glow. The Son of Fire was fierce, a modern mythical god, and she found that she no longer feared him.

  She burned for him.

  “Coal Hansen,” she called out.

  He spun toward her, eyes wide.

  Their gazes collided in a clash of molten iron and swirling tide pools. The hiss of contact solidified the black abyss to obsidian and she crossed over to the other side. In the light of his presence, her shadows incinerated. Coal was wrong. She wasn’t forged from the sun. He was. And she wanted him to shatter the false mirror in her heart. To destroy her in a way where she’d see her true self instead of the faulty reflections others showed her.

  His breath caught as emotions openly danced and played across her face. A single finger scorched her skin where he touched, a tender caress along her cheek and lower lip, before his hands held her face with the kind of reverence she’d only seen people show for rare treasure.

  “Lyn—”

  She didn’t let him finish that thought. They could talk later. Her mouth claimed his in a searing rush as her body flew into his, like moth to flame. She threw her arms around his neck and the letter fluttered in her fingers. He clutched her dress and pressed her closer until she melted away in pools of liquid fire. His grip relaxed and he explored the length of her back while deepening the heat of their kiss. He didn’t just appreciate her body, he cherished her.

  She was pissed that she had doubted him. Pissed that he had hidden the truth of his circumstances until now. Yet, none of that mattered anymore. It seemed so petty, so inconsequential. Her family was in the human trafficking business and she was in love with a man they had enslaved. Fury surged through her at the audacity of owning another human being. And not just the owning, but the sense of entitlement—the cruel hubris—of one human believing it was their right to physically and psychologically destroy the life of another, and the cold detachment of the humans who turned their head and looked away.

  Monsters, all of them.

 
The kiss slowed and she eventually pulled away, untangling her breath and body from his. He opened his mouth to speak, but she touched her fingertips to his lips, whispering, “Sometimes words ruin everything.”

  Flicking the lighter, she lowered the first page into the tiny flame until it caught fire, then the second. She placed the pages on the bank next to the river and watched as they burned to ash. With a low, guttural scream, she kicked what remained into the water, baptizing her and Coal’s shame.

  She wanted to skip and dance in circles. To sing at the top of her lungs. Instead, she scooped up a handful of petals with a giggle and threw the blossom cast-offs up in the air to rain pink confetti over her and Coal.

  No. Dear god.

  She was giggling. Giggling.

  Disgruntled, she blurted, “You didn’t see that. It never happened.”

  Coal smiled until dimples appeared. “See what exactly, Mademoiselle?”

  Dammit.

  “Yeah, like I’m going to fall for that trick.”

  “You mean, when you giggled? Or when you threw flower petals?” He plucked a petal from her hair then lifted her hand to his lips and said, “Rest assured, mon joli petit dragon, both are normal responses after kissing me.”

  Lynden yanked her hand back with a groan and stalked back up the hill toward her picnic blanket to hide her smile. She knew Coal would follow. And, when he did, she spun on her heel to walk backwards and said, “Here boy!” and patted her thighs. “Do you want me pet your ego?” She asked in a syrupy coo. “Yes, you do. Oh yes you do.”

  Coal flashed her a grin. The rascally kind. Oh shit. She swiveled to face forward and broke into a run. Dumb. Pointless. So very stupid of her. In a few, quick strides, he picked her up and threw her over his shoulder.

  “Put me down you asshole!” she squealed, pounding his back. “Carrying me like a caveman is not hot!” Coal just chuckled at her pathetic protests.

  The picnic-goers and Companion drones froze into still-frame images once again, eyes wide and mouths parted at the scene they were making.