Most everyone else was praying, eyes closed, fingering beads attached to belts, or meditating on the macabre dance of tiny flames near the window. Occasionally, someone would walk to the altar of candles erected in a corner of the room. Using a medieval version of a punk, they would light a candle, cross themselves, and then walk back to their seat. Did they think lighting a candle would prevent death? Fillion rolled his eyes with the thought. Superstitious Green Morons.
To calm the escalating emotions—again—he focused his attention on Willow, studying her as covertly as possible. Laurel perched on her lap, daintily curled up with arms tangled around her sister’s neck. Willow mindlessly played with a strand of her sister’s hair. Her henna-stained fingers twirled and spun. She stared absently at the flickering glow near where she sat. Small wisps of hair that had come loose from her braided crown framed her face. The swollen, red-tinged skin around her eyes appeared dark against her fair skin.
Willow’s attention shifted from the candles to her sister’s head, and then she glanced his direction. Warmth filled him as she continued to check him out. And he stared back. As usual. Like an idiot. The entire world faded away as the invisible thread that connected them pulled tighter. God, the ache was intense. Their lives were destined to be entangled. Both were heirs to the same Legacy that defined their past, present, and future. Energy existed between them, pulsing with relentless torment. And yet, he couldn’t fathom how any kind of romantic relationship would ever work out. Not that it ever would come to that. Fillion returned his face to his arms, closing his eyes with a pensive sigh.
Her soft femininity captivated him, a bygone concept beyond these walls. OK, so maybe vintage notions of proper behavior weren’t so annoying after all. She didn’t possess the kind of beauty his world appreciated. In fact, he knew the Net communities would find her unadulterated natural state grossly unattractive. Even the hippies wore makeup and dyed their hair, attempting a tribal appearance to exude an earthy seductiveness.
The goal was to become the object of another’s sexual fantasy and experience. Everyone was a character on the Net, playing a role. Even if they claimed to be Mother Earth’s offspring. Attractive images became worshiped idols. Sites were erected by otaku followers, with or without permission. Nothing was real. Everyone was fake. People detached from one another’s humanity. Treated others how they pleased. Whatever it took to continue the disillusioned ecstasy of feeling alive.
All of that programming dissipated when he looked at Willow. She baffled him in the best kind of way. “I’m so corny,” he whispered to the dark spot his limbs created. He shook his head at the need to hear a voice. Even his own. The walls pressed in another inch.
God, he needed a smoke. Forget it. He couldn’t sit here a moment longer. He stood up, caught Leaf’s attention. Fillion made the international sign for smoke break, then retrieved a joint from his leather pouch. He walked right up to the candle altar, ignoring the curious stares, and lit up. A couple sharp breaths from behind reached his ears and he rolled his eyes. They were candles, not mystical vessels of the gods. It took everything in him to not flip off the room as he walked out the door.
Fresh air greeted his nostrils and he inhaled deeply. He didn’t realize how warm it had been inside. Fillion rested his back against a wall beneath the eaves. There was nowhere to hide. No escape. People were always around. Always needing something. Always expecting contribution, celebration, contrition. It had only been three days, and already the amount of human interaction was making Fillion’s brain short-circuit. He had never been asked to care about so many people and things, while following so many rules.
A dull headache formed behind his eyes and he closed them tight for a few seconds. He slowly opened his eyes and focused his vision on the scenery. Safer.
The mid-morning sun crested the dome horizon with a strange, muted brilliance and distracted Fillion’s mental rants. Latticed windows sparkled through the leaves from the apartments that curved around the forest. Large wooden staircases, intricately carved with Celtic knots, descended to the biodome floor. Fillion looked up and squinted his eyes at the golden light, taking in the reflective nanotech panels of the ceiling. Shielding his vision, he continued to absorb his surroundings.
Fillion marveled at the medieval mud and timber construction as he dragged on his joint. Each wooden door sported its own personal metal insignia. Doorways and windows were capped with stone. The cool blue and gray tones drew in his eye against the stark contrast of the white walls and the dark exposed timber.
As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t deny the allure of their storybook dwellings. All his life he had imagined the people of New Eden Township lived in huts or teepees. Something more rustic and less modern, like an eco-punk commune. He rolled his eyes and let out an irritated sigh. Green Morons. Hanley hadn’t allowed any media inside to take images. Even workers and lab employees had been required to check in all their electronic devices during construction.
The door to the Daniels apartment opened and Fillion tensed, hoping he wasn’t being summoned inside. Skylar emerged and quietly shut the door, glancing Fillion’s direction with a polite smile.
“The air is refreshing,” Skylar said. He was matter-of-fact, as if there was no room to believe otherwise. If Skylar didn’t look so tense, Fillion would think it was a poor attempt at humor. As a reply, Fillion turned his head and ignored the Son of Wind. Skylar walked near him and dropped his voice. “Pardon my intrusion. I know you wish for solitude at present.”
“Your intelligence is inspiring.”
“I find myself in a quandary, and I hope you may assist me.”
“Hope is for the weak-minded.” Fillion faced Skylar with a smug grin and then blew smoke in his face. “I won’t be party to any games against the Watsons.”
“That is what I wish to speak to you about.” Skylar remained unfazed by Fillion’s deliberate rudeness. Instead, the young noble took another step closer and whispered, “I do not wish to be party to such games either.”
Fillion rolled his eyes. “Yeah, nice try.”
“I am most sincere.”
“Prove it.” Another arrogant smile formed on Fillion’s face as he lifted his eyebrows in challenge.
“I shall not cower before your effrontery.”
Effrontery? Fillion wanted to laugh. With a single step, he brought himself inches from Skylar’s face. “You should.”
“On what authority?”
Fillion grinned and leaned against the wall. “Why are you so pissed off at Leaf?”
Skylar looked away for a moment. “Ember and I had been courting until the morning she married Leaf,” he whispered. He briefly looked over his shoulder. “Even though Leaf and I are sworn brothers.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“We vowed to honor and serve each other all our days, a bond considered stronger than family.” The Son of Wind shifted on his feet and cleared his throat. “Despite the community’s support, Leaf’s secret marriage is seen as an act against my home.”
“Did Ember have a choice in any of this?”
“Yes, of course. That is not, however, what I am concerned about. Connor met with Leaf the eve prior to the handfasting to discuss a private condition for becoming the next Earth Element.”
“Shit,” Fillion muttered. He drew on his joint in thought. The implications were huge, and he thought of Connor’s story about the Death Card. Leaf’s insistence on disrupting the game echoed in his mind as well. Ember didn’t appear to be suffering as Leaf’s wife, though. He locked eyes with Skylar, unsettled with how much the noble resembled Hanley at this moment. “Are you suggesting that Leaf married Ember to play the Wind and Fire Element houses against each other?”
“I fear that others may believe so.”
“So what do you want from me?”
“I hear the village gossip, and there is escalating trepidation over the second wave of colonists. My generation fears the Outside world, and the first g
eneration is quickly deciding their opinions about project shutdown. Some wish to return to their families and prior lives, while most wish to remain inside the community. Joel is believed to have been a supporter of disbanding, and I fear some are willing to engage in dire behavior to gain favor on their convictions.” Skylar leaned forward. “There are rumors that perhaps an act against Leaf’s home may transpire soon, but I am unable to discover the source at present or the potential deed. I fear for their safety. ”
Thoughts arced and hummed with electricity in Fillion’s mind as he charged certain ideas and questions. As calmly as possible, he lifted the joint to his lips and puffed, exhaling slowly. “Where do you stand?”
“This is why I seek your assistance, as you are from the Outside.”
Fillion offered a cool smile. “You should stand by Leaf and whatever he decides. Especially if a so-called deed against his home ever happens.”
“Yes, of course.” Skylar looked away nervously. Fillion had to strain to hear his next words. “Only, to do so would require that I publicly stand against my father, which is not done in New Eden.”
“You’ve been asked to keep your distance from Leaf?”
“And never to reconcile.” The noble’s eyes glossed and he blinked, looking up at the dome ceiling.
Fillion suddenly understood Skylar’s fear. Fillion had carried the marks of shame for over five years, and he understood what communities did to sons like them. It didn’t matter if the father was guilty or innocent. The threat was all society needed. The Son of Wind had made his stand, and Fillion would guard his position.
“Thanks for telling me the gossip.” Fillion casually looked around the deck. “It’s very useful.”
Skylar bowed, a look of relief softening his features. “Anytime, sir.” He looked like he wanted to say more, but closed his mouth.
“I’ll be working at The Forge as a carpenter if you need to find me.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Skylar issued a grateful smile before quietly walking back into the apartment. It was weird, but that smile was so much like Lynden’s that Fillion shivered. What the hell? He couldn’t help but wonder if he was related to Skylar Kane. No. It had to be an odd coincidence. Either that or he was experiencing psychosis. Hanley was an only child, whose father died when Hanley was a baby. Grandma Esther never remarried, dying an old, lonely woman. She was a weird, paranoid nut. They never had a funeral or anything for her either. God, his family was the very definition of dysfunctional.
He needed another smoke and lit another joint with the butt of the old one. A strange taste hit his tongue and he scrunched up his face and looked at the joint, perplexed. He must have discovered one made from spices. There was a faint orange flavor behind the cinnamon and clove. He puffed another hit and decided it wasn’t so bad after all.
The front door opened again and Fillion sighed heavily. So much for alone time. Jeff peeked out and emerged upon spotting him nearby. “Glad you are close.”
Fillion made a welcoming gesture with his hand and said in a flat voice, “Step into my office.”
“There are smoking laws in New Eden,” Jeff said in a wry tone, lifting a corner of his mouth.
“Great.” Fillion smiled. “A lawyer with a sense of humor. The worst kind.”
Jeff gave an appreciative nod, but it was clear he was heartbroken. His dejected movements as he stepped toward Fillion looked as if a corpse traipsed across the deck. Nonetheless, he communicated with an air of business. “Hanley sent a message for you to connect with him tonight via Messenger Pigeon. He wishes to meet with you two hours after your work start time at New Eden Enterprises. He also instructs you to bring Joel Watson. He must mean the new Earth Element. He confirmed receipt of the death certificate last week.”
Fillion narrowed his eyes. The message wasn’t from his dad. Hanley wouldn’t want another situation where Leaf could be potentially exposed to others in the company. Only so many glitches can happen before employees become suspicious, especially in a short period of time. And he would never ask for Joel Watson. For once, Fillion was glad he thought like his dad. But his heart sank as he realized the message probably came from his mom, masquerading as his dad. She didn’t know about Joel’s death?
“I don’t meet his demands.”
Jeff registered shock, and cleared his throat as an attempt at composure. “How would you like me to reply?”
“If and when I want to meet with him, he’ll know.” The lawyer’s face paled, so Fillion tried another tack. “Tell him the timing isn’t right, but I’ll let him know when it is, so stay tuned. Make it as polite as you want. I don’t care.”
Jeff studied him a few seconds, further concerned. “And what if he overrides your response?”
“He won’t.”
“What is it exactly that you do for New Eden Enterprises?”
A wicked grin stretched on Fillion’s face as he took a casual drag on his joint. “Science and shit. And whatever the hell it takes to piss off Hanley. It’s very important work.”
Jeff’s lips turned up slightly in a shaky smile and then sobered. “The real reason I came out here is because Norah requested your presence. Lady Rain emerged from her mother’s room looking for you, and I capitalized on the opportunity to share Hanley’s message.” Fillion’s stomach tightened. He couldn’t see a nearly dead person. He’d never seen anyone die before in his entire life. Jeff seemed to notice his sudden anxiety. “She wishes to pass on a blessing.”
“A what? Why?”
“It is tradition. Come on.” Jeff gestured toward the door. “Never keep a woman waiting, especially if she is...” He didn’t finish, as if realizing mid-sentence that the joke wasn’t that funny after all. Jeff’s face reddened. “Sorry,” he said. The lawyer whispered, as if Fillion wasn’t there, “I have loved her so long.”
“No worries.” What else could Fillion say? Was that why Jeff joined New Eden?
The lawyer looked up at him with a haunted stare. And one of the most heartbreaking smiles Fillion had ever seen formed on Jeff’s face. Was it worth it? Did the years of unrequited love make up for the grief of separation?
The front door opened and Rain emerged with uncertain steps. Her hair swished at her waist, and her eyes were puffy from crying. She looked nothing like her red-haired, freckled mother and siblings. Or the blond-haired, blue-eyed father. And it had nothing to do with her tears. Fillion drew his brows together and looked between Jeff and Rain.
Jeff’s face relaxed as he looked over his shoulder, and that is when Fillion knew. Did Rain know? To hide his surprise, he walked to the railing, stomped on his joint, and then pushed it over the edge until it fell to the grass below.
“My mother requests your presence, sir.”
As he turned, he schooled his features and gave Rain a tight smile as he re-entered her home. Everyone looked up at him from their seats and he swallowed nervously.
Rain led him to her mother’s bedroom, then quietly stepped aside for him to enter. The room was dark. A single candle burned by Norah’s bed. Her red hair lay strewn across the pillow like flames. Norah’s eyes were closed, and her breathing was raspy.
Fillion’s feet felt like lead as he walked closer. The door groaned and creaked behind him. He shot a look over his shoulder, unable to hide the fear in his eyes. A sad smile touched Rain’s lips, and then she closed the door, leaving him alone with a woman who could breathe her last at any moment. Every muscle in his body stilled, as if any sudden movement could cause her death.
Norah’s eyes squinted open and rested on him. A faint smile lit her face. “Come,” she croaked. “Kneel on the floor beside me.”
Fillion lifted his shoulders and dropped his head, forcing himself to breathe. Carefully, he lowered onto the hard floor. Norah’s hand surfaced from a multitude of covers and reached up to touch his cheek. Her fingers were cold, causing him to flinch. He was on the verge of a total freak-out. Fillion forced himself to meet her eyes, confused by
the kindness.
“I know who you are,” she said. It was clearly hard for her to talk, but she continued. “I am thankful I lived long enough to see you.” Her thumb caressed his face gently and he blinked rapidly, attempting to hold back the swelling fear. “Son of Eden, never forget your immeasurable value and worth.” She paused to take in a deep, rattled breath. “You are exactly who this community needs.”
“I don’t know—”
“Shhh,” she soothed with a loving smile. It was a look Fillion imagined most mothers graced their children with, and his eyes stung as tears formed. “Do not allow fear to dictate your steps. You are a man of remarkable strength and honor. I see it in your soul.”
A tear slid down Fillion’s cheek with her declaration. She moved her head on the pillow to see him more clearly and he took in a measured breath, straining to remain in control. Her fingers trembled on his face for a moment before she lowered her arm, searching for his hand.
In automatic motions, he lifted his hand and found hers, feeling strange when realizing the intimacy of his gesture. A human lay dying before him, and he was touching her and listening to some of her last words. Never had he felt so small, so insignificant, so ugly and hateful. People died every day and he didn’t give a shit. But she was real. This was really happening. Lives began and lives ended. Everyone in the other room understood this profound truth. Regret over his shallowness pressed heavily against his chest.
She didn’t have to waste her few, precious minutes on him. Norah had four children, a husband, and lifelong friends. But she wanted to give him some of her remaining time. She even publicly requested him, letting others know she considered him important. No one had ever demonstrated that they believed he held worth like Norah had this moment. Was this her blessing? It was overwhelming. He possessed remarkable strength and honor? The community needed him? The last thought made his stomach churn.
“I’m so scared,” he whispered.
“Love is stronger than fear,” she said. She placed her hand on his chest, over his heart.
Elements (The Biodome Chronicles series Book 2) Page 19
