The Starlight Rite

by Cherise Sinclair

  “Sounds reasonable.”

  Dain shook his head. “Others could have attended the animal. If a child is seriously ill, for a deathwatch, or if the person is too ill to walk—those are about the only exceptions.”

  “What happened to the man? Did the church fine him?”

  “Church?” Dain’s brows drew together. “Ah, a religious organization. No, we have no church here. Cernun—it was his LastDay—removed the man’s ability to procreate for an entire year. Until Cernun’s LastDay arrived again.”

  “Ability to procreate?”

  “If a man’s shultor doesn’t not become erect…” Dain shrugged and then grinned. “I’ve also heard of a woman who lost the capacity to enjoy shulin.”

  “Well.” He actually believed his god had taken such a direct intervention? Probably guilt-induced psychosis. “I was looking forward to going to a party.”

  “I fear this is a Nexan custom you would not enjoy, little Earther. This is the gods’ answer to our limited population—a way of ensuring that genes are mingled.”

  To mingle genes would require…mingling. “You couple with—”

  “With everyone at the rite. Yes. From the time the last moon exits the sky until the first rises. Moonless nights occur only four times a year, and the festivals are set around those days.”

  Dear heavens. That sounded horrible. “Oh well. Maybe I’d better wait for a different party,” she said lightly.

  “After tonight, we take a break from parties.” He rubbed his chin. “The next one is in two weeks, to celebrate the founding of Port City.”

  Two weeks? She couldn’t risk that long. And how could she handle coupling with Dain during that time, knowing he’d probably been involved in killing her friends? Even now, her heart flip-flopped inside her chest with her wanting him and hating him.

  “Oh.” She pouted. “I’m getting housebound, I guess.”

  He sat down on the bed and pulled her onto his lap. “I understand, but there’s not much I can do. An unshuline cannot leave the premises except with her owner. In fact, starting tomorrow, you probably won’t get out much at all, since the doctor has cleared me to return to work. I have too many problems piling up to stay absent longer. Like the singer’s death. There are still some issues—”

  “You’re going back to work,” Mella interrupted. If Dain did that, he’d see those two enforcers all the time. And if he was in charge of her so-called death, he’d meet with Nathan, increasing the chances that the monster would discover she’d survived. A shiver ran through her.

  “Mella.” Dain ran a finger along her jaw, warm against her chilled skin. “Tell me what the problem is.”

  “No problem.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, hating that she found his arms around her comforting. “I want to go with you tonight. To participate in your ceremonies.”

  His embrace tightened. “Laria, this night is about shulin. You have just accepted my possession. How will you feel when other men take you?”

  The thought made her cringe inside. “I think it’s time for me to expand my horizons, don’t you? I really want to go with you tonight.”

  “I see. Well, the goddess will not refuse another set of genes.” But his brows drew together as he studied her.

  * * *

  An ocean breeze brought swirls of fog with it as Dain led Mella down a winding path through the Arewell Enclave toward a building designed just for Starlight Rites. All five of the clans hosted the rites, although the Zarain clan had moved their festival to Port City when Dain’s career became a security nightmare. Oddly enough, the new location in the gardens behind a spice warehouse and store had proven a popular choice with the city residents.

  One of the first enclaves created on Nexus, the Arewell Enclave, lay on the edge of crime-ridden Old Quarters. Statuary gleamed in the moonlight, and the briny scent of the sea mingled with the sweet fragrance from the formal ronve garden. The Starlight building hid within high hedges in the back corner. As they neared, Dain heard the unmistakable wail of a woman achieving release.

  Mella stopped as if she’d hit a wall. “That—”

  “There will be more of that tonight, if you stay. Are you sure, laria?” Dain asked. He couldn’t believe she’d requested to join him this evening. He’d considered refusing her. But shulin on LastDay was sacred, and to turn away a willing female would anger the goddess.

  If she were still willing. He tilted Mella’s face up gently, seeing the stunned look in her eyes. “Sex happens here. And the shulin will not be…refined. The Arewell kinline is as dominant as the Zarain, Mella. This evening will shock your little Earther soul.”

  Her lips firmed, and she stepped away from him. “My soul is getting stronger by the day.”

  And her soul had moved away from his. Dain narrowed his eyes. Testing, he ran his hand down her arm and felt the involuntary withdrawal before she stilled. “Mella.”

  She looked at him, her face holding the same blank look as when she’d played poker with him and Grandsir. “Yes?”

  “What has happened?” Had he violated some odd Earther custom?

  She shrugged.

  When she didn’t speak, he stepped closer, letting her feel the heat and power in his body. “Answer me, laria.”

  But before he could pursue the matter further, a shout echoed across the enclave. “Dain!” Clad in Arewell colors of black and red, Blackwell strode through the open door, a grin on his lean face.

  “Blackwell,” Dain said, clasping forearms with his friend.

  “I didn’t know if you’d come here or go to your clan’s location, but I’m pleased. I see you brought your unshuline.” Blackwell motioned them into the building, which consisted of one huge center room, several secluded nooks, and a kitchen near the back.

  Dain paused just inside the doorway, so Mella could get her bearings. A slapping sound drew their attention to a naked woman bent over a bench. A hefty-sized man serviced her from the rear.

  Mella’s mouth dropped open, and the little thief’s eyes widened as she took in the rest of the room. A woman manacled to one wall, being driven into a sexual frenzy. Three men and two women having shulin on a wide padded platform. An Arewell woman ordering a man to kneel and lick her. Two brothers tag-teaming a woman on a bench.

  “Oh Prophet,” she whispered.

  “No, the term is ‘oh goddess,’” Blackwell corrected. “This is Artema’s night.”

  “But they’re coupling in public,” she said. “That… I didn’t think…” She stopped, too distressed to continue.

  Blackwell laughed, obviously taken with her. After a glance at Dain for permission, he stroked Mella’s cheek and lingered, like Dain, mesmerized by the silkiness. “Because of the solar storms, our people have frequent genetic mutations and decreased fertility. When kinlines began to practice selective breeding, the gods frowned on the increased inbreeding and demanded the Starlight Rites to increase the odds of conception and to keep the genes intermingled.”

  A clear explanation. Dain forgot sometimes that this ultimate in warrior breeding had also taught history.

  Mella moved away from Blackwell’s touch as she had Dain’s.

  She stayed silent as he walked her across the room to the buffet table. Neither of them had eaten lastmeal yet, but she didn’t appear interested. Her gaze flickered to the kitchen, where servants came and went, bearing trays of appetizers.

  Setting her small hand on his arm—the first time she’d willingly touched him all evening—she looked up. “Could I… I’d like a chance to regain my composure. Maybe I can sit in a corner of the kitchen for a while…so I don’t disgrace you by behaving badly?”

  His heart twisted. “I shouldn’t have brought you here, laria. I’m sorry.” He wrapped his hand around her nape, noting her chilled skin and the speed of her breathing. She was terrified and trying to hide it. “I’ll take you home.”

  “No.” She pulled in a deep breath. “I want to stay, but… Just give me some time to remind
myself that these people aren’t all horrible sinners.” Her lips turned up in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s something I’ve had to do often since coming to Nexus, you know.”

  “I know.” Stubborn little Earther. “Take your break. I’ll talk with Blackwell for a half hour or so, then return to get you.” He tugged on her braid. “Stay in the kitchen until I come. If anyone asks or bothers you, tell them you’re Dain’s unshuline and off-limits.”

  Her eyes widened. “Someone might try to…touch me?”

  “Indeed. Your bracelets are green. Gold bracelets restrict what an indentured slave can be required to do, but green means you can be used for anything—including shulin. And tonight everyone has shulin with everyone, remember?”

  “I see.” A shudder ran through her. “Well then, I’ll stay put.” Back straight as a graywood tree, she walked past the table, into the kitchen, and exchanged greetings with the staff there.

  Too brave for her own good. Dain glanced around the room, looking for Blackwell. He’d give her some time to think. Not too much, because the doors to the building would be locked when the red moon, Neman, set and the goddess’s avatar was chosen.

  * * *

  Almost an hour later, Dain stood in the doorway of the kitchen. Servants bustled around, but he didn’t see Mella anywhere.

  He checked the refresher, then the main room. Not there.

  Back to the kitchen. When questioned, the kitchen helpers said she’d wanted air and had stepped outside. She hadn’t returned.

  Blackwell called out servants to check the surrounding gardens and then the enclave itself. Anger sparked to life in Dain’s gut when Blackwell reported back. No unshuline. The pity in his friend’s gaze didn’t help Dain’s temper.

  And neither did the realization that she’d conned him into coming to this party just so she could escape. His mouth tasted bitter as he used the comunit to call the Indenture Hall.

  “Kinae Dain, how can I be of service?”

  “Get tracking for me.”

  A minute later, he heard the gruff voice of the duty officer at the hall. “Kinae Dain, is there a problem?”

  “I seem to have misplaced my unshuline. Name of Mella. Can you locate and make the data available on the city infounits?”

  The tracking devices were located only in the city and could only sense the tiny bracelet pulse within a one-block radius. The Arewell Enclave sat on the edge of Port City. Hopefully she’d gone toward the city; if she had gone out the back gate into farmland, they couldn’t track her.

  The officer murmured, then raised his voice. “She is moving into Old Quarters. The city units will be kept updated until you notify me otherwise.”

  “Thank you.” Dain slapped the Off button.

  Chapter Sixteen

  As the moon hung above the western skyline, Mella hurried farther into Old Quarters. She jogged past crumbling buildings, and her uneasiness grew. She was being watched.

  When she’d lived on the streets in Port City, she’d kept to the respectable outskirts, forgoing the possibility of easier targets in favor of safety. There would be no safety in Old Quarters. Although she held a butcher knife from the kitchen hidden in the folds of her skirt, it wouldn’t prove much use against more than one man, or even an experienced fighter.

  She should have taken self-defense classes when Kalie had. Nathan had felt it unseemly. Damn him to the hell he always spoke of.

  A stick figure in ragged clothing edged out from a doorway and regarded her with the sunken eyes of an alcoholic. According to Dain, fermented beverages were the one drug the Nexans hadn’t managed to curtail, since liquor could be made anywhere.

  A shiver ran through Mella. That man would slit her throat just to get a few royals to buy another bottle. She increased her speed. One more block to her destination. As stabbing pain cramped her muscles, she pressed her left hand against her side. The life of an unshuline hadn’t prepared her for running so far.

  She passed two derelict houses. Only another couple—

  Three men appeared, emerging from hiding places as silently as ghosts. One had the swarthy-skinned Nexan coloring. The remaining two were lighter skinned and brown haired. Scum from the other worlds who had become trapped here in this Nexan slum.

  Her legs felt like blocks of stone as she spun around. Go back.

  Another man walked into the center of the street to block her. Blond hair streaked with mud, ripped clothing. He slapped a piece of wood against his palm.

  Oh Prophet. Mella halted. Trapped. So she’d exchanged the clean death Dain might have dispensed for rape and murder in the filth of the street. Mouth dry, she waited, bracing herself. She wouldn’t run, wouldn’t flee to be caught and killed like an animal.

  A knife glinted in the Nexan’s hand as the other three men sidled closer.

  Icy horror blurred Mella’s vision. A knife. Blood, so red and hot. Her friend’s small body on the stage and… She shook her head furiously.

  All those years she’d jumped through hoops to prevent being identified as Armelina Archer. She’d done everything to avoid Cecily’s fate, and everything she’d done had brought her here. All her ventures had doomed her to what she’d feared the most. The irony sang in her ears with the slow, creeping footsteps of the vileness that approached.

  She kept the knife in the folds of her skirt. With surprise, she might get one at least.

  At an unseen signal, they charged her. The first man to touch her, one of the brown-haired ones, got her knife in his upper stomach, but his twisting fall wrenched it from her hand. Weaponless, she jerked to face the next, and—

  A solacar rammed into the man standing the farthest away. His scream of agony stopped abruptly when his head cracked on the pavement.

  The door of the car slid open, and Dain emerged, leaning on his cane. Fear for him rushed through her, and her vision blurred. Oh, Dain, no! There were too many. Even now, two more slum dwellers stepped out of an alley. They’d take him down like a pack of dogs preying on a deer.

  Her two remaining assailants abandoned her in favor of the solacar and obviously rich man. They separated, one on each side of Dain, moving in slowly.

  No one watched Mella. She could run now. Get away. Quick.

  I can’t. With a scream of frustrated anger, Mella charged. She rammed into the back of the closest one and knocked him off balance. As she fell to her knees, she heard a whishing sound, a broken-off gasp. The man collapsed, blood pouring from his throat.

  Dain whirled. The end of his cane gleamed wetly, and the blade slid into the oncoming man. The ragged Nexan dropped silently. Dain glanced around and spotted the two others hovering uncertainly. He smiled in icy amusement. Then he growled, “Leave.” The power in his voice was almost palpable in the evening air.

  The ghosts disappeared without a sound, edging back into the darkness to wait for their next victim.

  Mella sucked in a breath. He’d saved her, kept her from being carved up like Cecily. The street had emptied except for them. A slight wind skittered past, rolling a can down the pavement. Grit stung her palms as she stared up at him—and realized she was alone with the man she’d tried to escape. Oh Prophet. She shoved upright, springing away from him.

  And agony seared through her. Fire burned from her head to her feet. She hit the ground hard, her body convulsing uncontrollably.

  When the pain stopped, she could only lie there in the filth as tears streamed from her eyes. Her muscles didn’t work; her fingers couldn’t move.

  “Isn’t it nice that I had a zapper in my solacar? I saved the charge just for you.”

  Filthy, cowardly Nexan weapon. She heard his footsteps, punctuated by the click of his cane, and then he walked into her field of vision. His face was cold. Harsh. Would he kill her now? Would she die here in this horrible place?

  He looked down at her, and his mouth twisted in a bitter smile. “Well, little thief, you’ve stolen more from me than I thought to lose.” He tucked his cane into a l
oop on his belt, picked her up, and slung her over one shoulder as easily as if she were a knapsack. She couldn’t even scream at the pain of being moved. Her mind blurred.

  An interminable time later, the solacar pulled to a stop, and Dain got out.

  Mella’s agony had eased, leaving her muscles aching and her thoughts racketing around her head. Feeling far too vulnerable, she pushed into a more upright position in the seat.

  When he slid open the door to her side, she looked at his impassive face.

  He studied her silently. “Do you want to tell me why you ran?” he asked finally.

  She shook her head.

  His lips thinned into a narrow line, sharp as a blade. “All right, then. Answer me this. What did the Indenture Hall require of an owner if a slave attempted escape?”

  The staff had required that “an indentured slave who flees be punished with ten strikes of the cane with enough force to create welts.” Her throat hurt as she forced the words out. “Caning. Ten.”

  “Precisely.” Leaning against the door frame, he said, “You requested that I buy you, Mella.”

  Guilt swept through her. She had. But then the memory of seeing him laugh with Nathan and the two cops who had tried to murder her returned like an icy dagger. If he realized her identity, she’d die.

  “Have I treated you so badly that you felt you had to escape?” His jaw tightened. “I believe your life with me has been as gentle as any indentured servant might want.”

  “I-I… You…” She had no answer to give, not without revealing far too much. She stared at him helplessly.

  “After your first escape attempt, I could have caned you until my arm wouldn’t rise. I could have whipped you all night, as long as I didn’t break the skin.” He was furious. He was so controlled that she hadn’t realized the depths of his anger, but when her gaze met his, she saw the flames in his dark gray eyes. “I had thought that you… Obviously you play your part very well, little thief. Since you find the idea of being my unshuline so abhorrent—”