by Lee Winter
She dried off quickly, feeling a lot fresher, and pulled on her clothes, trying with difficulty to forget her humiliation at throwing herself at Nyah.
Upon returning, she dropped her belongings beside her backpack, then headed for the cave entrance, wondering where Nyah had disappeared to so early. She was conflicted about how she felt about seeing her. On the one hand it was Nyah, whose company she had come to greatly enjoy. On the other hand, it was Nyah, before whom she had made a complete idiot of herself.
The searing orb of torturous red light that was the rising sun smacked her in the head. Lena shielded the rays with her hand. At least the skies had cleared, and she got her first good look at the damage the cyclone had wrought. As far as the eye could see were flattened or uprooted trees. The wind was still whipping about and she shivered, missing her scarf. She’d have to get a new one when she passed through town today on her way to the airport.
She sat. A distant flash in the sky caught her attention. Nyah. Drawing her knees up under her chin, she watched, rapt, as the blur passed behind the jagged peaks. The figure soared suddenly in an updraft and tumble-turned gracefully, mimicking a champion swimmer changing direction.
Lena stared pensively. In her entire life she had never done something so reckless as kiss this woman. Everything she’d ever done since becoming an adult had been about maintaining control. It was a simple rule she had followed all her life, and it had kept her safe. She couldn’t believe her drunken idiot self had acted on her attraction. That was it—she was officially swearing off alcohol for life.
She nibbled on her lower lip. The more she thought about it, the more she realized Nyah had let Lena down gently last night. And now, too, this morning by making herself scarce.
With some effort, she forced the humiliation from her mind and moved to the edge of the outcrop for a better view. Nyah was exceptional to watch. Totally wasted out here, of course, hiding from life. However, Lena understood now. She rested her chin on her fist as she watched Nyah float for a moment, as though deciding her next direction.
It wasn’t fair to ask any more of her. The woman had suffered and a part of her had died. It would be cruel to force her to go back to her old life. If anyone had earned retirement, it was Shattergirl.
Nyah changed direction, then darted off to the east. In the way super-speed flying tricks the eye, it looked briefly as though her entire body was stretched like a vivid paintbrush slash before she disappeared out of sight.
Mesmerizing.
She sat, watching where Nyah had been, long after she was gone. Lena was a lost cause. The sooner she was out of here the better. This, whatever this was, was not in her job description.
She stood, dusting down her pants, and went back inside the cave. She should pack. Lena had her answer on Nyah’s whereabouts. The storm had cleared. The airport, presumably, had reopened, which meant she’d be out of here by tonight, winging her way back to civilization.
The thought didn’t excite her as much as it would have even a day ago.
She sat on her sleeping bag, sliding her toiletries and clothes into her backpack, then rinsed out her mug and tucked that away too. Her eye fell to her notepad, and the scrawled “Vengeance Manifesto.”
Lena stopped and read their increasingly outlandish theories. Alien farm animals? Even Nyah had been unable to hide her smile at that one.
A pang of regret struck her at leaving so soon, just when she was starting to see the real woman. Someone whose company she really enjoyed. Lena shook herself. She’d always known this job was as temporary as the rest. Yes, she’d score a goose egg on it, her first fail, but then four other top trackers had also struck out, so it wasn’t too unexpected. Sometimes trackers didn’t win. Just the way it went.
She paused. She’d never forget this talent, though. That had been a revelation, knowing she would miss Nyah. It was an unfamiliar sensation, bonding with someone, sharing things she never had with someone so opposite to her. Lena wasn’t sure what it meant.
She stoked the fire, mulling over her uncertain, drifting thoughts. The wind picked up outside, and after a minute the rain started again.
Before long Lena could hear pings of it hitting the buckets Nyah had left out, and the sound of running water as it flowed in all the hidden channels in the cave system. It sounded lighter this time. So just regular rain then, not the end-of-times stuff again. Even so, she hoped Nyah didn’t hang around up there too much longer.
There was a whoosh and thump outside. Speak of the Lycra-clad devil.
“Hey,” she called out, turning. “I …” Her words died.
Nyah was clutching her side, blood oozing between her fingers. Her face was twisted into a grimace.
“What happened?” Fear lanced through Lena. Her heart sprung into her throat.
“I did a sweep to assess the damage from the storm when I saw a pirate boat,” Nyah said. “They sometimes use the islands around here for cover or to attack the vessels near Somalia. From time to time I remind them Socotra’s off limits when no one’s around to see me.”
Nyah peeled off her top, wrenching it over her head with a pained groan, dropping it to the floor, leaving her clad in a black sports bra.
Lena gasped at the size of the wound on her bloodied side. “Did a bullet do that?”
“Looks worse than it is. Grab the medi-kit.” She pointed to a white box near her bookshelves. “It was just a lucky shot. The little tagshart dropped his rifle in a panic when he saw me coming. It went off when it hit the deck.”
Lena quickly found the medi-kit and popped the lid. Nyah sat on her cot and waited while Lena shuffled through the contents.
Nyah peered at her. “There’s a…”
“Pressure bandage. I know.” Lena sat beside her. She pulled out the white package, putting it to one side. “Is the bullet out?”
“It was never in. It only nicked me. I saw it embed into the mast.”
“Good. Don’t move. I need to get sterilized first.” She washed her hands in a sterile gel then dug up a bottle of saline solution. “Gonna sting,” she warned, wrenching the lid off.
Nyah didn’t flinch as Lena poured a liberal dash of liquid on the wound on both sides to clean it. She ripped open an antiseptic wipe to finish the job, then positioned the bandage. She was sticking it down neatly with extra tape to be sure it would stay secure when she felt eyes boring into her.
“What?” Lena asked, not looking up, her fingers still pressing hard, checking the gauze was holding.
“You’ve done this before,” Nyah said, sounding curious. “Many times, I’d wager.”
“Getting myself banged up is one of the perks of my job.” She grabbed a nearby water bottle and rinsed the blood off her hands, then snapped the medi-kit closed. She gave it a kick, sliding it towards the back of the cave again, and turned to face Nyah. “Have you got a spare shirt or something? You need to be warm.”
Nyah inclined her head towards a crate, and Lena strode over and popped its lid. A neat pile of black, identical supersuits greeted her. “Seriously? Nothing but black?” She dug deeper. “Not even any casual wear? Just your hero outfit?”
Nyah shrugged. “It’s aerodynamic.”
“I could loan you one of mine, but you’re half a foot taller than me.”
“It’s fine. I prefer that.”
Lena shook out a uniform top and eyed it critically. It was black, with thick, padded shoulders, and expertly stitched ribbing around the ribcage that gave Nyah a sleek, perfect, muscular silhouette. In so many ways, this was what the commons worshipped, a manufactured god.
Her fingers slid along the material, bumping over the ridges that created the impression of a hyper-being. Lena glanced at the woman before her. She had never seen her not encased in her sculpted armor. In her sports bra and leggings, she was still lean and angular, but less imposing. Smaller.
She met Nyah’s gaze and could see in it trepidation. Wariness. About what? The lie of her enhanced suit? Did she wonder
whether Lena thought less of her, knowing the truth of what lay underneath it?
Because Nyah still oozed a power that came from her alone. It was in the angle of her head and the shift of watchful, all-seeing eyes. Her body, stripped of this suit, seemed more leonine than stylized muscle. Lean cat, not mountain lion. Smaller, yes, but even more beautiful. Nyah had nothing to feel self-conscious about. Lena wished she could tell her that, but since the humiliation of their kiss, she knew it would sound like something else. So she held her tongue.
Lena’s thumb bumped the rough thread of the silver Facility logo embedded above the uniform’s left breast. She studied it. A tiny rocket inside an oval. As her fingers traced the insignia, Nyah’s breath hitched.
Startled, Lena’s head snapped up. Nyah’s lips were pressed tightly, her eyes fixed on Lena’s fingers. Lena quickly removed her hand from the logo, wondering if she’d committed some faux pas. She let her eyes trace the rest of the material, pondering this manipulation that turned Nyah into someone else. Something else. It held so many layers, meant so many things: armor, branding, camouflage, intimidation.
“Why do you still wear your uniform?” Lena asked, handing her the tunic. “Couldn’t you have found something else aerodynamic since you left the Facility?”
“I’ve never not worn it.” Nyah looked down at it in her hands. “We don’t take our uniforms off except to clean them. I haven’t even thought about wearing something else. We just don’t.”
Lena picked apart her words. The rare use of the word “we.” This was more than a uniform. It was a symbol for a fellowship of survivors, as well as what she was still tethered by.
But why keep something branded by the hated organization she so desperately wished to flee? It made no sense.
“Why don’t you give yourself permission?” Lena suggested. “To take it off and leave it off. How can you ever become Nyah while wearing Shattergirl’s uniform?”
Nyah hesitated. “It’s not that simple.”
“No?” Lena sat beside her and gently said: “Maybe it’s time to move on? You act like you’ve left the Facility and your hero self behind you, but every single day when you put that on, you’re wearing your old life.”
Nyah shot her a startled look. Her thumbs traced the sleek material, as though reviewing a life via cotton and thread. “It wasn’t all bad,” she said, eyes fixed on the insignia. “Not all the time.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t hate everything. I didn’t even hate everyone either.” She gave Lena a hesitant look. “Not entirely.”
“I figured.”
“Just at the end. I have a limit. We all do. And Tal never saw that. Or he knew and it was inconvenient to admit.”
“He’s too busy power-tripping over being the boss.”
“He’s not my boss,” Nyah said vehemently. “He was not then, and never will be. My. Boss. That ego-stuffed, orange frakstit NEVER deserved to be anyone’s boss. He’s not a leader. He doesn’t grasp what it takes. I tried to talk to him decades ago about what we needed from him. He told me he had it all under control and virtually patted me on the head.” Her eyes flashed darkly. “He’s a conman out of his depth. He’s nothing to me. His Facility is nothing to me.”
Her raised voice echoed around the room. Abruptly Nyah tore at the top in sharp, furious jerks. Then she yanked off her leggings, shredding them with brute force. When she was done, she stood and held the tattered garments up to the light, staring at them, her breathing harsh and ragged. She bundled them into a tight ball, which she hurled with furious strength to the opposite end of the cave. “I’M NOT YOURS TO OWN!” she raged. Her fists bulged, and her chest rose and fell rapidly.
“You’re free of him now. You’re free of all of it,” Lena said.
Nyah turned sharply, as though she’d forgotten Lena was there. She said nothing for a few moments, and then her shoulders sagged. Her head dropped. “That was a bit pointless,” she muttered, as her fury seemed to ebb out of her. She returned to sit beside Lena and gave her a wry glance. “I will have to put a uniform back on to get new clothes at some point.”
“True,” Lena agreed. “But not today. And I bet that felt good.” She gave her a nudge and a grin.
Nyah’s lips curled at the edges. “Possibly.”
Rising, Lena hauled her backpack onto her lap, rummaging through it. She pulled one of her checked shirts out and draped it over Nyah’s shoulders. It was far too short and a bit western-tragic for the elegant woman, but Nyah didn’t comment. She pulled it closer as Lena sat back down next to her.
Lena pointed at her bandage. “Does it hurt? With your super-metabolism that’ll be healed soon, right?”
“I don’t...feel any pain. Not much at all now, anyway.”
There was a lightness in her eyes that Lena had never seen before. She stared, entranced.
“Really?” Lena realized they weren’t talking about physical wounds anymore.
“Really,” Nyah confirmed. And then she smiled, a blistering, disarming smile that had never graced any newsreel. Her smile gradually faded but the intensity remained. It was unsettling.
“What?” Lena asked, suddenly aware of their closeness.
Nyah’s hand flashed out, forestalling Lena’s plan to move, grabbing her forearm. “I just realized something.”
“Huh?” Lena said cleverly.
“You’re just as intriguing sober as you are drunk. I appreciate that.”
“What?” Lena tensed.
“No one ever dares to kiss me.” The smile widened, but it had a knowingness to it. “Of course, I have a somewhat intimidating reputation. It is well deserved.”
“Yeah, well, I should probably never drink again. That’s top of my to-do list.” She felt her cheeks flaming.
“How can you to-do a negative?” Nyah teased. “And I didn’t say I didn’t like it. I know it took courage.”
Lena stopped breathing. She’d liked it? As in…liked it? Her heart began thumping rapidly and suddenly she didn’t know where to look. “Courage, yep,” she said, awkwardly. “Or stupidity given it could have ended really badly.” Bottom of the Baltic Sea badly.
“Oh that too.” Nyah’s eyes sparkled.
“Are you making fun of me?” Lena asked uncertainly.
“For once, no. But I do want to know one thing—why did you kiss me?”
“I told you. It was the wine. I get like that when I drink.” Lena eyed her warily. Couldn’t she just drop it?
“So you would kiss anyone in that condition?”
“No, of course not. Well, obviously I don’t think you’re ugly either.” God, this was painful. She hunched down, beyond embarrassed.
“But if I recall, last night you thought I was beautiful.” The corners of Nyah’s lips were curling.
Of all the maddening…Lena’s scowl turned darker. “Definitely just the wine.”
“So now you don’t think I’m beautiful? How fickle women are.”
Lena shot her a faux glare. “What do you want me to say?” she asked in exasperation.
Nyah leaned back against the cave wall and watched her with a half-lidded gaze. “The truth. You see, I’ve reconsidered your offer from last night. So, tell me that you still think it’s a good idea, two people seeking comfort. Say that you meant what you said and that’s all it would be for you, nothing more, nothing less.”
All lightness was gone and Nyah’s face became still. Lena understood instantly. This had to be something guardians feared. Fans with their happily-ever-after picket-fence fantasies. Not everything had to be about love.
“I don’t want anything else,” Lena said with conviction.
Nyah offered a smile that was pure sin.
Lena’s mouth went dry.
Slowly, so slowly, Nyah reached over and ran a finger down Lena’s cheek then slid it across to her lips. She tapped Lena’s lower lip with her thumb. “So soft,” she murmured. “Do you want me, Lena?”
Her eyes were gently teasi
ng, and Lena knew the source of her amusement. Didn’t everyone want her?
“After all, you did like Shattergirl, didn’t you?” Nyah suggested.
Lena paused. Such a loaded question. “Teenagers like a lot of things,” she hedged. “But I know the truth about guardians. I’ve seen what’s behind the curtain.”
“Yes, you have. It’s part of your appeal,” Nyah said, her lips lowering to Lena’s cheek and brushing against it.
The tiny hairs bent, and a shiver ran through her at the warmth of Nyah’s mouth, arousal hitting her straight between the legs. Lena wished she had a modicum of her usual control. How did this woman keep reducing her protective walls to rubble?
“You know all our flaws, don’t you?” Nyah continued softly, murmuring against her skin. “All our little secrets. You know we bruise and we break. You know all the ways we’re self-destructive and imperfect and wrong.”
“I also know all the ways you’re right too,” Lena whispered. “All the ways you keep going when it hurts. The pain you hide. Yes, I liked Shattergirl—who wouldn’t? She’s larger than life. She’s like a goddess in that perfectly sculpted uniform.”
Lena’s fingers dropped to Nyah’s bare ribs, no longer enhanced by her suit’s impressive ribbing, and ran them along the bumps to make her point. Goosebumps rose against dark skin. “But the truth is, I prefer Nyah. You’re more breathtaking than Shattergirl ever could be. You’re real.”
Lena knew she’d said exactly the right thing when Nyah’s lips pressed into her cheek and a murmured “thank you” spilled out.
The drumming rain and wind picked up outside, and it merged with the sound of the blood in Lena’s ears.
“But before you get too cocky,” Lena said with a teasing smile, pulling back to look her in the eye, “there’s something you don’t know.”
“Oh?” Nyah’s eyes lit with curiosity.
“I’ve tracked down almost seventy of your people over the years,” Lena said. “Many of them—men and women—have wanted to fuck over the great Silver for beating them…or just fuck her.”
