by Audrey Faye
Grower’s Omen
The Fixers, Book #2
Audrey Faye
Contents
Copyright
Dedication
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Thank You
Copyright
Copyright © 2016 Audrey Faye
www.audreyfayewrites.com
Dedication
To the green, growing things.
“I do this work of the soul not to change myself, but to find myself.”
Ananda Martinez, Astronavigator, Starship Amadeus
1
I leaned against the wall outside my pod and sighed. I was banning sex. Not all of it, just sex in my pod—the kind that meant I couldn’t go back in to grab the sandwich I’d forgotten to pack for my lunch.
It was a really good sandwich, too. Hopefully Devan and Kish would enjoy it.
Assuming they ever got out of bed.
Bean peeled around the corner of the hallway and slid to a halt beside me, grinning. “Morning, Tee. The lovebirds at it again?”
I couldn’t help laughing. “Does everyone on Stardust Prime know?”
The assistant to the woman who ran this place with an iron fist grinned. “Pretty much. Rumor has it that Tyra Lightbody has been sleeping on gel-couches all over the habitat.”
Something like that. “Camping out at Raven and Iggy’s, mostly.” Raven was off on assignment and very willing to share her space, and Iggy was mostly managing to keep her teasing under control. Being the roommate of the woman who couldn’t keep her hands off the sexiest man on the planet was fodder for plenty of Fixer comedy routines, though. I hadn’t been brave enough to venture into the caf at lunch for days.
However, it was impossible to hold on to my grumpy—Kish was a walking supernova of happiness.
“They’re really sweet together,” said Bean softly, a goopy smile on her face.
They were—and if Kish had any idea how obvious the heart on her sleeve was, she’d head for the nearest mining colony and never come back. “She deserves it.” Even if I totally planned to get even for the pod-sex marathon.
Bean grinned, her dreadlocks flopping cheerfully. “She picked a good one.”
My roommate had chosen a man who had tongues drooling all over Stardust Prime. She’d spent the weeks after her return telling us stories about falling in love with his heart. It had been seriously shocking to set eyes on the guy and discover he had the kind of face and bod that should have stopped any deeper inquiries dead in their tracks.
Then again, I had a weakness for pretty bods and Kish totally didn’t. I was still withholding judgment on the quality of Devan Lovatt’s heart, however. That was a realm where I moved a lot more slowly. He’d earned serious bonus points by arriving three weeks after Kish had come back from Bromelain III, though. Fast moves. He’d wangled himself some kind of cultural-exchange doodad that let him stay for a month.
Or someone had.
I eyed Bean suspiciously—Yesenia’s assistant was a bona fide miracle worker. “How much did you have to do with his travel visa?”
Coffee-colored eyes returned my gaze innocently. “I might have filed a few forms. He asked really nicely.”
More points to Devan for being smart enough to take Bean seriously. “I’m glad he got here—thanks for helping.” Whatever impending wreck might currently be taking shape in my pod, it wasn’t Bean’s fault.
Her eyes misted over. “It was worth every second of it to get to watch him arrive.”
That one had already gone down in the Stardust Prime history books. Devan had walked into the main habitat cafeteria at high noon—and Lakisha Drinkwater, seasoned Fixer and very private human being, had thrown herself at him with a screech and a whimper that had said everything important to anyone in three kilometers.
It probably wasn’t a big surprise they’d hunkered down in our pod after that. Except for the midnight walks in the botanical gardens, but I probably wasn’t supposed to know about those.
Bean ran her finger down a random seam in the hallway wall. “I wonder what will happen when he leaves.”
Kish was going to need all the TLC the clan Lightbody could muster. My family was already preparing. I just hoped I was back from assignment in time to help clean up the mess. “She’s a Fixer. She’ll get sent off on assignments, and once in a blue moon he’ll come to visit.” And general sadness and heartache would ensue. Not the kind of roots I would have chosen for my best friend, but apparently she’d decided not to let me pick them.
Bean tilted her head. “What is a blue moon, anyhow?”
I smiled—my family was generally considered the repository of that kind of trivia. “Mundi says it’s because on Earth, there were twelve months and thirteen moon cycles. So once a year, there were two moons in a month and that one was the blue moon.”
“Why didn’t they just have thirteen months?”
Mundi had some pithy opinions on that. “She says some dumb Roman dude decided on a calendar without actually looking up at the night sky.”
Bean rolled her eyes. “Men.”
I could feel my lips twitching. “They have their advantages.” If I played my cards right, one of them might even land me a cozier place to sleep tonight than Raven’s bed. Brax had been acting awfully friendly for the last few days. Then again, he might just want some more of my coconut yogurt—the man was seriously addicted.
I shrugged—that mystery could be solved later. Right now, one of Stardust Prime’s best information sources had volunteered her presence, and no Lightbody worth her salt would let that pass without finding out at least a little something useful. Gossip, well handled, was the grease of every good community. I eyed the smaller woman casually. “Any idea where my next assignment might be heading?” I hadn’t heard anything official yet, but I was due up, and Bean generally knew these things well in advance.
“I don’t know.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I have honey-almond granola, baked fresh this morning.”
“I really don’t know.” Bean shook her head, laughing. “Not your assignment, anyhow. I know they’re sending a lot of Fixers to the Etruscan sector, though—something must be rumbling there.”
That would be okay—food in that part of the quadrant tended to run to lots of green, growing things. And it was close. The less time I had to spend sardined in a tin can to get to wherever I was headed, the better. “Is that were Raven went?” My Shaman friend’s last assignment had been changed en route, and rumors about where she’d gone were flying rampant.
“No.” Yesenia’s assistant looked very serious now. “She got pulled for something else.”
I knew how to read body language as well as anyone. Wherever Raven was, it wasn’t anything Bean could talk about—and it had her worried.
Shit. She should be back soon, and until then, I’d keep holding my breath.
“Hey, big sister!”
Apparently, all I had to do to run into half the planet was stand
in the hallway outside my pod door. I rolled my eyes as Zane zoomed down the hall and skidded to a halt inches from my nose, oblivious that he was interrupting—my baby brother had exactly zero idea that other people did things when he wasn’t around. “What’s up?”
“Dinner.” Zee jiggled on his wheels, trying to stay in motion while standing still. “Mom wants to make sure you’re coming.”
I’d missed Sunday dinner exactly twice in my life when I was on-planet, and I’d been unconscious both those times. “Try again.”
He snickered. “Linden wants to make sure you’re coming, and early enough to deliver whatever potion you’ve promised her. Oh, and Dad wants to know if Friday works for Gilly’s dirtwalker ceremony.”
Not as easy a question to answer as he thought. “If I haven’t shipped out.”
He scowled. “Dad’s not going to like that answer.”
It’s the same one I’d been giving for six years—and one that a family who served KarmaCorp might not like, but they’d understand. “You could always do it without me.”
Zane looked like I’d suggested a brain transplant with hedge clippers.
I knew the drill—Gilly’s ceremony would be scheduled when all eighty-three members of the Lightbody clan were available and not a moment before. Because it was a promise, and each and every one of us needed to make it.
My brother looked over at Bean. “Dad said to remind you that you’re invited, and he’d be really pleased if you’d sing the chants.”
She looked quietly delighted—and flustered, which was a thing that happened exactly never. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. I’ll need to practice the chants if he’s going to consider including me, though.”
Zane nodded breezily, in full-blown unobservant teenager mode. “Find Lucia or Maddie or PJ—they’d all be happy to help.”
They would, but that’s not who Bean needed, not with that slightly dazed look on her face. “Go see Mundi. She knows all the stories behind the chants, and they’re worth listening to.” And the experience of hearing her low, powerful voice flow through the words changed people. She knew how to reach right down deep to your DNA and the places were cells were born. Mundi didn’t have a drop of Talent, but most of what I knew about using mine I’d learned at her knee.
Something beeped on my brother’s tablet. He jumped like fire had lit under his skinsuit. “Gotta go!”
Bean shook her head as he scooted off. “I can’t believe Yesenia hasn’t banned those things.”
Zee’s old-school wheels were wicked fast and totally inappropriate for indoor use. He utterly adored them.
He flashed a grin over his shoulder as he rounded the far corner. “She likes me.”
I snorted. Yesenia didn’t like anybody.
“She does,” said Bean quietly.
If there was a soft side to Yesenia Mayes, I’d never seen it. She’d apparently been weirdly understanding after Kish’s last assignment, but probably my roommate had just been high on Devan fumes. I had twenty-six years on Stardust Prime that said the director was hard as hull plating, through and through. “If you say so.”
Bean laid a hand on my arm. “Those papers I pushed around for Devan? Yesenia approved them.”
That was unexpected, to say the least. “Really?”
“He wanted to come—he got the application ready and leaned on a lot of levers on his end before he contacted me. But Yesenia personally approved them and asked me to fast-track his application.”
That was like hearing an oak tree had given birth to kittens.
“Nobody looks,” said Bean softly. “She’s not all steel, but nobody looks.”
The director of KarmaCorp gave us very few reasons to do that—but there was no way her assistant was standing in this hallway saying those words to me without a very good reason. I asked her the same question I’d asked Zee, but with a lot more focus. “What’s up?”
“I don’t know.” A shrug, and the traces of a frown. “Maybe nothing.”
That’s not the way the vibe was suddenly ringing. “Is Yesenia in trouble?” The mind boggled, but if she was, I was related to several people who needed to know. We were the glue that made Stardust Prime stick together, and that was a job that needed all the information it could get.
Those coffee-colored eyes were bearing uncertain messages again. “I don’t think so, but something’s brewing.”
That could mean anything from a stiff wind to an intergalactic storm—and any of them in Yesenia’s office was worrisome. I made a face. I’d keep my ear to the ground, but the last thing I needed to be worrying about right now was the fate of the person who knew just how high everyone on Stardust Prime could jump. I had more important things to figure out, like when Raven might be back, and whether my sandwich could be rescued in time for lunch.
It had tomatoes in it. And a slice of real cheese.
Bean rolled her eyes as she looked down at her own beeping tablet and turned to go. “I’m out of here as well. I have to go figure out why the soy-paste generators are borked again.”
That didn’t sound good—if they stayed broken, all the soy eaters would be coming after my tomatoes. “What’s wrong with them?”
“Who knows?” Bean shrugged. “Last time, I found Emmy’s Karma Warriors clogging the exit duct.”
That particular demon child was a relation, and very fond of shoving her little plastic figurines into small spaces and then denying all knowledge of where she’d left them. “I’m pretty sure they’re currently residing in Auntie Mina’s fish pond. Something about diving lessons and mermaids.”
“Good.” Bean smiled wryly as she turned to go. “I hope they stay there.”
Auntie Mina didn’t. I grinned—maybe Emmy could be convinced to send her Karma Warriors on a sandwich rescue mission.
Or at least on a mission to find me a new slice of cheese.
2
I eyed the side buffet table and wondered if it would pick today to finally give up the ghost. It had been holding up the weight of Lightbody Sunday dinners for longer than I’d been alive, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t going to someday collapse under the insane number of dishes and plates and bowls piled on its sturdy surface.
Three of my smallest relations had taken up residence under the table—clearly they didn’t think it was falling down anytime soon. I laid my hand on one of the corners and pushed a small vibration of Talent from my lower chakras into the old wood of the table. A reminder of its DNA—strength, roots, shelter. Just in case Dad and the aunties had gone more overboard than usual.
“Are you expecting more people?”
I grinned up at Devan, who had just appeared at my left shoulder and stood eyeing the table avidly. He was impossible not to like, even if he’d created some very strong ripples in the life of my best friend—most of which hadn’t landed yet. “My dad always cooks enough to feed an army of strays, and then my aunties show up and double it.”
He hummed in appreciative happiness as he surveyed the platters. “I really like your family.”
Everyone did—and this was one of our best, most persuasive forms of community glue. “They’ll be happy to send you home with leftovers.”
“Even better.” He handed me a plate and balanced two on his arm.
I looked around, curious. “What did you do with Kish?” She hadn’t been more than three millimeters from Devan since he’d arrived.
He added fried fish to both plates and smiled wryly. “I think the aunties swallowed her.”
Uh, oh. He probably deserved fair warning. “They’re matchmakers. Fairly heavy-handed ones.”
He laughed. “They’re too late this time.”
No they weren’t. “They want to make sure you stick.” Anything else would shatter Kish’s not-so-tough digger-rock heart into a billion pieces, and they were already hard at work doing what our clan did almost instinctively—wrapping her, and him, in the protective arms of family.
The Lightbodies had adopted Kish long ago.
Devan gave me a quick, intent look and started scooping potato salad. “There’s only one thing she said we had to do this week, and that was show up for dinner tonight.”
Of course she had. The rules for adoptees were the same as for genetic Lightbodies. “That’s because she knew a posse would come hunt her down if the two of you didn’t show up.” Missing Sunday dinner was never an option, particularly when you had a hot new guy in your bed. The aunties were fearsome. I grinned—it was time to see what this guy was really made of. “They’re probably quizzing her on your skills as a lover.”
Devan’s choking laugh earned him a few more bonus points. And a small reprieve, from me at least. It probably wasn’t fair to harass him before he got to eat something. “Don’t worry, they already love you. I hear you sent over bacon.”
He grinned. “Bacon is pretty good currency around here.”
My father had practically cuddled the package when it had arrived. Devan Lovatt definitely wasn’t dumb. Then again, he was royalty, and even if Bromelain III was a minor fiefdom by galactic standards, he’d probably navigated tougher rooms than this one. I handed him my filled plate. “Go rescue her.” Fifteen years of Lightbody chatter still hadn’t cured Kish of her digger-rock shyness, especially when it came to talking about sex.
Which wouldn’t slow the aunties down one little bit.
I grabbed a new plate to load and smiled to myself as he walked away. I wasn’t the last one who would check him out this evening, but the guy seemed like he could handle a little friendly scrutiny. I snagged myself a piece of fried fish, and then, balancing my plate temporarily on top of the udon noodles, broke a second piece of fish into three.
I squatted down and peered under the table at the littles. Good, their numbers hadn’t grown. “You guys hungry?”
Three dirty faces nodded in unison and reached for the fish bits. “Come out later for more food, okay?” Someone would probably remember to feed them, even under the table, but in this family, even the youngest were taught to speak up for themselves.
