Venus City 1

by Tabitha Vale

  Latham's smile returned, and he embraced her. Braya allowed the hug, finding his strong warms around her to be somewhat of a comfort. What came next, however, shook her to her core.

  His hand cupped her jaw line, and he leaned in to press their lips together. Braya had not expected the kiss, and stood rigid in his arms as his mouth did forbidden things to hers. What was he doing? Where had that come from? As far as she knew, the intimacy part of the whole Bride and Groom deal didn't come until they were ready to make babies—and even then, it was to serve its purpose, not to actually be intimate with each other. Her eyes widened. Was that his intention, to take her right there in the middle of the hall? No one ever claimed men to have the brightest rationales.

  Braya jolted to action once she felt the kiss had stretched far too long. She disentangled herself from his arms and took a few steps back, mussed and breathless—why was she breathless? The kiss had been three fleeting seconds, a prolonged peck! She blamed it on the suddenness of it, the embarrassment.

  Her face was flushed, and his seemed to be, too. She wanted to yell at him, ask him what that had been, but she stopped herself. They were to be married...weren't married couples supposed to kiss? Disgruntled, she stomped around the corner and left Latham there to stare at his shoes. She didn't get very far before she bumped into Asher, leaning against the side of the corridor, his shoulders tense, one eye gold and one eye blue.

  “You saw, didn't you?” She asked boorishly.

  “Saw what? You finding fulfillment in your dearly betrothed? Surely you can't be speaking of that?”

  Seeing him, and knowing he'd seen what just transpired, re-doubled her humiliation as she was reminded of what had happened last night with him on the roof. What had that been, that almost-kiss? She had vehemently convinced herself it was nothing, absolutely nothing, but now she wondered if she should consider it her first kiss. If it wasn't, then her kiss with Latham had been her first. She didn't want either of them to have claim to it, but she had to rationalize with herself and decide which one she wanted to have claim the least. It didn't matter which one had been better—no, not a single aspect of either 'kiss' had been any shade of good—or which of the two males coerced her into the throes of desire, because both of them had cheated. That was it. Neither counted as a kiss, because she hadn't been a participant of either.

  ****

  They were in the Moon District de-hazing again. They were almost done with it, and would move onto the wealthy residential areas of Senna and Paith upon finishing.

  After Asher had collected her in the hall, they were joined by Page and the three of them had ridden the Rail. They were lurking around the Moon Tamer Stadium at the moment, as three of the dots on the map were marked along the outside of the stadium. As far as she could tell from the crowded parking garages they'd passed from their way out of the Rail station, and the subdued noise inside the stadium, there was a game going on, though nothing of the same caliber as the weekend games.

  “How long are you going to stay angry?” Braya asked, throwing Asher a glance. He followed her at a disturbing closeness and his right eye was still glowing an intense amber color. She could see it out of her peripheral vision at all times, so close as he was. “Is that a stupid foreigner thing, too?”

  “How 'bout for as long as you're planning on marrying that stupid oaf and popping out a few of his children,” Asher replied coolly.

  Braya grimaced. “Nice choice of words.”

  “And your little naivety act is getting old,” Asher added, half a step behind her as she moved toward the next dot on the map. “Asking if everything is just a foreigner thing—is that your way of avoiding the problem? Of pretending like there's not something wrong with the men here, but with us?”

  Braya gave a forced laugh. “Oh, right, you clever guy, you. Figured me out.” She threw her hands up as if surrendering.

  “I've had you figured out for a long time,” Asher countered. Their voices were growing louder the longer their argument stretched on, and there were random passersby that gave them concerned looks.

  “ A light can never remove every spot of darkness,” Page intoned.

  “Right, right,” Braya said sarcastically. “What is that supposed to even mean, Page? How 'bout you add something useful to this argument?”

  “You don't need to drag him into this just because you can't defend yourself anymore,” Asher said snidely. They had just located the next mapped dot and Asher was rummaging in his bag for a booster. “He's too weak to be any use to either of us, anyway.”

  Braya scoffed. “Is that another foreigner thing? Handicapping any other person who could be a possible threat before they even get a chance to have a word in edgewise?”

  “You think he'd join this argument on your side?” He asked incredulously, slamming the booster into her hand. People were still staring at them, but Braya and Asher were not paying attention to them anymore. Page was standing just beyond them, shifting his feet anxiously, his white-blond hair curling into his eyes and hiding his expression.

  “It would be wise to quiet down,” Page muttered.

  Braya gazed at him, startled. “He does know how to say something else?”

  He so rarely said anything of variety that Braya had forgotten he could.

  “So it would seem,” Asher replied dryly. “Come on, hurry up and post the booster onto the building already!”

  “Or else what?” She asked testily, peeling the back paper off of it. “You'll flood me with your sick desires? Force me to kiss you—”

  “That wasn't my fault! It was something different—”

  “Of course it was.”

  “Really, I looked into it—”

  “That's unlikely. Here comes another dose of lies.”

  “I've never lied—”

  “Fabricating the truth, same thing.”

  “Would you just listen for a second?”

  “I'm a little busy trying to put this stupid booster on, and you keep talking, and it's like, make up your mind! What do you want me to do? Listen, or do my job? The job which you forced onto me in the first place—”

  “BRAYA!” His voice echoed a great distance as the booster sealed onto the stone of the building, ripples of purple spreading in a spider web's pattern along the wall.

  “What's going on here?”

  Braya spun to see a tall, gruff woman with a tight blonde ponytail, a long, pointed nose and glittering black eyes. She wore a bulky protective suit and the backs of her hands were tattooed with boosters. She was a Hem Liner.

  Asher remained facing Braya so that the woman couldn't see his golden and blue eyes, while Page slowly turned to face the Hemmer, though his gaze was still hidden by his hair.

  The Hemmer's eyes were inspecting the wall where Braya had just implanted the booster, and all Braya could think of were the delicate spider lines that wove across the stone. Could the woman see those? Braya could only imagine if she could—possessing unregistered boosters the way they were was illegal, and Braya would be captured and locked up.

  “Let me ask you once more,” the Hemmer said, eyes flicking back to Braya. “Is there a problem here? What are you doing with unauthorized boosters? Young man, turn around.”

  The Hemmer reached to spin Asher around. His mismatched gaze met Braya's for a split second before he vanished under her touch. Page followed suit, and Braya was left there with an astonished Hemmer, whose eyes locked onto Braya.

  “Run.”

  Asher had commanded it, so Braya did it.

  She ran from the Hemmer when everything in her told her not to. Resisting capture would only make matters worse. They would end up catching her no matter how fast she ran. That woman was probably boosted up with more enhancements than Braya could name. What if getting captured was a good thing, though? Perhaps they could discover the master-slave link, remove it, and let her tell the whole truth.

  It didn't matter, though. Braya's issue was ordered, and she had to follow it.
>
  She raced across the field, split through small groups of people meandering through the fields, dodged trees, and continued down the main street. Braya ran so fast that the setting began blurring around her, but she could still tell where she was due to the vision booster she had.

  Braya figured the command would wear off after a few minutes, and it did. She stopped running when she came to an empty parking lot, and leaned against the building, panting. She didn't get the moment of respite she'd been hoping for, as a fist came barreling from behind her. Braya dodged it easily—she thanked Asher over a million times for the reflex booster, though she supposed the gratitude was misplaced—and spun around to see that the Hemmer had followed her. Go figure she had super speed. She probably had a super GPS and other navigation imbued into her person as well.

  The Hemmer continued to punch at her with lightening speed. Braya dodged, and supposed she should be thankful for that Petti race with the Locers, too. She decided to run for it again, even though she knew it wouldn't do her a lot of good.

  Instead of going in a straight line, Braya ran in a zigzag, but no matter how elaborate a path she forged, the Hemmer was always at her ankles, despite the extra stamina Braya had, she could only run so far. She was slowing already, and the Hemmer seemed to have no shortage of energy. Braya tapered off in the backyard of some Finch's house, dodged a couple more punches, but it was the end of her. The Hemmer announced her under arrest, cuffed her hands, and called in a car.

  ****

  The cell she was held in was somewhere underground. She was curled up on a cold stone floor with three thick slabs of stones looming over her. The fourth wall was made up of thick bars warped into grotesque gargoyles that looked like shadows guarding the exit.

  She'd been stripped down naked and examined closely upon being admitted. They found nothing but the four boosters on her back—upon which they'd mercilessly interrogated her on—and Braya had felt a little bit of her hope wither away. They had not seen anything of the master-slave link, which left her alone in this situation.

  After she had refused to speak of how she'd come to attain the boosters—strictly because it involved mentioning Asher and Ness and by association the Locers—they'd thrown her into her cell. After an hour had stretched by, they had dragged her out to resume their interrogations.

  “Who were those boys you were with? The ones who disappeared?”

  The two women interrogating her were different. They were not Hemmers, Braya was sure of that. They were both plain-faced with unremarkable dirty blonde hair, and their pale skin was wrought with aqua blue markings, like their skin was too thin to conceal their veins, only Braya thought it was the opposite, that their veins were too bright to be concealed. They wore dark, long cloaks and spoke in tight, icy tones.

  “I can't say.”

  The Hem Liners protected the city, the Handkerchief Society monitored and created boosters and plugs, and the Fair Lady’s Court ran the government. Who were these women and what role did they have?

  She heard them confer with each other enough to know their names were Quinn and Giselle. They didn't seem to care that she overheard them—perhaps they wanted her to hear what they were discussing.

  “A truth booster might force her to give us some answers.”

  “I was thinking of using the Double Plug.”

  “You think an illegal plug that detects other plugs is necessary?”

  “That Hemmer said those boys became invisible. This sounds serious.”

  They continued to pummel her with invasive questions, but none of them yielded helpful answers. Braya began to despair, feeling they would keep her locked in there forever for her lack of cooperation. Her mother might even like that, think it a good way to erase her shameful daughter from existence.

  That thought sent her into a fit of sobs. She was in the cell again, and it echoed loudly. She tried to calm herself by thinking of Asher. She found it soothing to attempt to draw the lines that defined her hatred for him. Braya determined it was some warped, twisted thing that had been edged with a more intimate grace due to the mixing and spoiling of their emotions. She wished she could know how she actually felt about him—to feel that natural dislike without inhibitions—so she wouldn't feel so bothered by it.

  She heard a noise outside her cell and presumed they'd returned for more interrogation, probably intending to use the plugs they were discussing earlier.

  It wasn't Quinn or Giselle, though.

  Sir Channing was standing outside the now open cell door, his hand outstretched for her.

  Braya glowered at him. “What are YOU doing here?”

  “You've been cleared. You're free to go,” he said simply.

  “Just like that?” She spat. “And how do you play into that? Who are you to release me? And what were you doing at my house the other day?” She couldn't help it, the question was a thorn in her side.

  He chuckled. “Just a business matter, nothing serious. Come, Miss Vace. I'm sure you'd like to return home.”

  She refused the hand he offered her and brushed past him out the cell. “The only thing I want is answers.”

  Channing shrugged. “I cannot give you those answers at this time. Please, if you will, we must leave this cell.”

  He motioned her toward the exit, but she didn't budge. Two shadows loomed behind her, and she saw that Quinn and Giselle had returned, loitering near the exit.

  “You don't want them to escort you out, do you? Aura Seeks, they're not the friendliest bunch of women,” Channing said, attempting to be lighthearted. Braya had never heard of Aura Seeks, but in the light of the moment, found she didn't care much. All she was concerned about was unraveling the enigma that Channing was. Why did he keep popping up at the most random moments?

  “I don't care,” she hissed. “Why am I suddenly cleared of all charges? How did you do this?”

  “Ah, a light can never remove every spot of darkness,” Channing replied with a tight-lipped grin. “In this case, releasing you is more beneficial than keeping you locked away.”

  Braya stared into his magenta eyes, shocked. That was the same exact phrase that Page always quoted, but why was Channing saying it? It certainly wasn't a popular phrase—she'd never heard it until Page had said it the first time at the bottom of the underground stairs! She studied the man before her as he ushered her out the door. He was tall, well built, and moderately attractive with black hair and a strong jaw. But his eyes were magenta...What connection could he possibly have to Page? She had to confront Page, get to the bottom of this, as Braya didn't get the chance to ask Channing any further questions.

  Her mind whirred. She’d just been deposited outside, and from the looks of things, she was somewhere in the Diamond District, but she had no idea where.

  Braya went in search of a Rail station, but it seemed there weren't any nearby, as far as the map on her tech pad showed. Yet, it seemed luck was on her side that night—if it could be called luck, anyway.

  Asher appeared only minutes after she'd left the jail. He fell into step with her as she walked along the busy street, and Braya felt her nerves bristle at the sight of him. That wasn't all, though. She couldn't deny it—there was an overwhelming sense of relief at the sight of him, and she couldn't blame it on conjoined emotions. This wasn't the same sensation of messy, mixed watercolors she'd felt before when they'd almost kissed. This was her own emotion, plain and clear.

  “How did you find me? Were you in that prison with me that whole time?” She accused. It felt weird being released from that cold, depressing cell after so much grief, so much interrogation with absolutely no consequences. It felt surreal.

  “No,” he whispered. “The link...the master...friend link, it led me to you.”

  “Great,” she spat. “Now you have a GPS tracking on me?”

  “No,” he hastened to amend. “It was more of a feeling...I could feel your despair, your hopelessness. It was really strange. But it led me here. I saw when they released y
ou.”

  “So you weren't going to go in there and break me out yourself? It was your fault I was there in the first place. You running your mouth so loud.”

  “I was, but they released you before I needed to.”

  Braya looked at him, considered him. Would he know what was going on between Channing and Page? She figured it wouldn't hurt to ask, but he spoke up first.

  “Braya,” he uttered. He never usually said her full name unless he was issuing an order. She tensed. “I wanted to clear something up with you. It's about the master-slave link. I...looked more into it. I wanted to know why that...thing happened the other night. I came across two possible reasons. One, I think I touched your mark. It must be on the back of your neck. By touching it, the bond between us was completely open and our emotions were free to pass back and forth. The second reason plays a role, too, I suspect. You see, the link only makes use of genuine feelings. When we feel something mutual for each other, it breaks the border between our emotions so that we can feel what the other feels, experience the sensations our...partner feels. Like Ness said, it was meant for husbands and wives to increase their...pleasure.”

  “So you expect me to remove the blame from you?” She asked dubiously.

  “That would be a nice start.”

  Braya shook her head. “Only if you tell me something.”

  He could sense her tone, and froze. His magenta eyes were staring brightly at her, hesitating. They had stopped walking, and were standing off to the side so that the other people passing by could not bump them. “You know it depends on the nature of that something. I can't tell you just anything.”

  “Tell me,” she urged, stepping closer to him so that no one could overhear. “What's going on between Channing and Page?” The flash of surprise in his eyes told her she was right in assuming he'd know something about it. “Is Channing a foreigner, too? Is he part of this Locer gang you have?”