Flux Flame (A Flame Moon Novel

by K. J. Jackson

  “Good. I think,” Triaten said. “It’s been tested now with most of our people, and it seems to be working quite well. Time will tell, though.”

  Aiden turned to Skye and couldn’t help but smile. She was shoveling eggs into her mouth, and it was delightful to see. In the last two weeks, she had already put back on half the muscle she had lost over the winter.

  Aiden poked her arm. “If you’ll do it, I’d like you to get a chip too. And soon.”

  Skye groaned through her throat full of eggs. She took a sip of orange juice, eyebrows raised. “Really? Is it necessary?”

  “No, not necessary. But it would give me peace of mind, what with our history.”

  “I don’t know. It just goes against my gut. Someone tracking me. I used to live on the fringe, you know, and I liked it.”

  “Yes, but you don’t live on the fringe anymore—correction, we’re still on a fringe, just a very different sort of one than the vagabond existence you once celebrated,” Aiden said. “Regardless, you’re part of our society now, an integral part, and I don’t want to leave the possibility of losing you again up to the fates. I want every weapon I can possibly have in my corner. And that includes a little chip that you will never feel once it’s in you. I’ll even have Triaten turn off the vibrating function, so it won’t creep you out. One little chip, Skye.”

  Skye swallowed her eggs. “I’m still not sure. I get it. I do. But my gut cringes at the thought. I swear I’ll consider it, though.”

  Aiden glared at his wife. It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but he didn’t push the matter.

  “If she doesn’t want it, A, leave it be.” Charlotte walked into the kitchen and plopped down next to Triaten on the bench. “We’re leaving it up to everyone to make their own choice.”

  “Did you implant one, Char?” Aiden heaped scrambled eggs onto his own plate.

  “Yes.”

  “Did you want to?”

  “Not particularly. But then I got kidnapped. So you can imagine that whole experience changed my mind. But my decision has nothing to do with Skye’s.”

  “Thank you,” Skye said.

  “So let her consider both sides, and then respect her decision when she makes it,” Charlotte continued as she grabbed a plate and piled fresh fruit, a croissant, and a stack of bacon onto her plate. “So far, most seem to like the idea, but it does have terrible possibilities for abuse. And that’s valid. We may all be cutting them out of us before long, if need be.” She crumbled up a strip of crispy bacon into her mouth.

  She was on her second strip when she realized she had three sets of eyes trained on her. And three mouths agape.

  Charlotte snatched a napkin and wiped her chin. “What? I looked in the mirror before I came down. Is there something on my chin?”

  Triaten was the first to recover. “Char, you’re eating bacon.”

  She looked at him, confused. “What?” Then she looked down at her hand, another full strip of the salty goodness poised to enter her mouth.

  Realization hit, and she dropped the bacon slowly, staring at it.

  “What on earth, Char? You haven’t eaten meat in years.”

  Charlotte still couldn’t look up from her plate. Half of it was filled with crispy, greasy bacon. Dazed, she shook her head. “I have no idea…”

  Suddenly, eyes wide, her head snapped up to look at Triaten. “Oh my god, Tri,” she whispered.

  His hand went to the small of her back, worried. “What? It’s just a little bacon. It’s not going to kill you.”

  “Tri, no. I think…I think I’m pregnant.”

  “What?” All three voices of Triaten, Aiden, and Skye chimed in unison.

  Charlotte pushed from the table, shoving the bench back as she stood. It forced Triaten into a stand next to her.

  She looked at him, panicked. “I have to go see Helen.”

  “You’re not going without me,” Triaten said as he ushered her to the door.

  They disappeared in a flurry of coats and shoes.

  Still sitting, Aiden and Skye looked at each other, both jaws still dropped.

  ~~~

  Hands splayed across Charlotte’s belly, Helen’s forehead touched the bare skin below Charlotte’s belly button.

  Charlotte was holding her grey sweater up, giving access to her belly, and she looked over Helen’s head at Triaten. He leaned against the white wall by the door in Helen’s apartment. An elbow propped on the arm crossed against his chest, his hand covered the bottom half of his face. Covered every thought he might be having. Furrowed brows were the only indication that the whole of this was unsettling to him.

  They had both been silent the entire way down into town.

  Hands not free to cover her own face, there was no hiding the terror of possibilities on Charlotte’s features. She couldn’t cover up the onslaught of horrible thoughts firing through her brain. Not now, her mind screamed. Please not now. Not Damen’s baby. Please no.

  Helen’s hands shifted slightly on her skin, and she sighed. Charlotte wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or bad. But what would be a good thing in this situation?

  It took ages, but finally, Helen’s hands slipped away from Charlotte’s belly and she stepped back to stand straight. Charlotte smoothed her sweater into place as Triaten snapped to attention and moved to Charlotte’s side, his hand going in-between her shoulder blades.

  The edges of Helen’s mouth curled ever so slightly. For Helen, it was a big smile. “Yes. You are with child.” Her look swung to Triaten. “Impregnating our kind is not easy. Well done, Triaten. Well done.”

  “How…how long?” Charlotte whispered.

  Triaten’s hand slipped down around her waist, tightening his hold.

  “It is not an exact, but as approximation, six to seven weeks,” Helen said.

  Charlotte fought to keep her knees locked, and was grateful for Triaten’s hold on her.

  Helen looked from one to the other. “This is not the joy I would have expected from you two. This baby will be cause for much celebration.”

  “It’s just a shock, Helen.” Triaten spoke his first words since the ranch. “Of course we are beyond ecstatic.”

  Helen’s eyes cut into each of them, refusing to take at face value Triaten’s explanation. She gave a quizzical harrumph. “Be that as it may. We will keep this silent for now. We do not need to invite trouble into our midst.”

  “Helen, thank you. We’ll leave you to your day, now.” Triaten gently spun Charlotte toward the door and pulled her forward, her feet barely shuffling.

  ~~~

  Even with the silence that permeated the jeep, Triaten drove slowly back up the mountain. Charlotte kept her eyes trained on the road, but could still see, several times, Triaten open and close his mouth to speak. But words did not manifest.

  Charlotte would take anything—anything from him at the moment. The smallest nugget. It could be benign—about the weather, about cheese, she didn’t care. Just not the silence. Even though she had no idea how to break it herself.

  Pulling out of the switchbacks up the mountain, the same ones that Shiv had crashed her car off of months ago, Charlotte was overwhelmed by a tsunami of nausea.

  Her hand clamped across her mouth and she grabbed Triaten’s arm. He instantly recognized what was happening, and skidded on the muddy road to a stop.

  Charlotte scrambled out the door and made it to the stump of an old fallen tree, before she started heaving. She gripped the rotting bark with both hands, fingers digging deep into the frozen wood for support as she leaned over and threw up.

  Triaten’s hands went to her shoulders, pulling her hair back and holding her steady as the spasms racked her body. And just as quickly as it came, the nausea passed and her convulsions began to cede.

  She pushed herself up slowly, turning to sit on the stump. Triaten nudged a water bottle into her hand. She took a swish of water around her mouth and spit it out. Then repeated the action three more times to remove the taste of bile o
n her tongue.

  “God, Char, are you okay?” Triaten asked, his hand again on her shoulder.

  She couldn’t look at him, instead, she stared at his hiking boots, not even affording a disingenuous nod.

  She wasn’t okay. Far from it. She had no sense of where to even place what she was feeling on a continuum. She was just numb. Numb and terrified and lost about what was growing inside of her. But also absolutely, brutally, protective of it.

  And also petrified about what Triaten was thinking.

  She had to say it. She couldn’t leave it hanging out there, unspoken.

  Head down, her frightened eyes turned upward at him. Her voice cracked just above a whisper. “Seven weeks, Tri. Helen said seven weeks.”

  Triaten sighed and ran his hand through his hair, scuffing the back of his neck. “We don’t know, Char. We don’t know what that means. You were back six weeks ago.”

  “Barely back.”

  “You were back.”

  Charlotte choked a breath that threatened to turn into a sob. She stood abruptly, pushing past Triaten. “Just give me a moment.”

  She went past the jeep to the outer edge of the road, crossing her arms across her body to ward off the cutting wind. From the vantage point, she had clear views of a wide valley, the vista sparkling with snow melting on the evergreens from the bright sun. Her blond hair tossed across her face, no match for the updrafts.

  She stood there for the longest time, trying to get her mind in order, and Triaten let her, giving her the space she needed. But instead of helping, the space only exasperated the aimless thoughts in her head. She was quickly losing herself, unable to grasp onto anything.

  And at the moment she was edging off the precipice into a complete abyss of irrational thought, Triaten’s feet crunched onto the half-melted snow bank behind her.

  His hands slid onto her shoulders. “You may need more time, Char, and I will give you that. But you need to know this.”

  She turned to face him, and he shifted his hands to keep them on her shoulders.

  “Know what?” she asked.

  “I woke up this morning with no notion of this—a baby—in my head. So the whole of it, it stunned me, and it was probably not the reaction you were looking for.”

  Charlotte shook her head, stopping him. “Tri, if you truly believed this was your baby, you would be ecstatic. You don’t need to cover up anything for me.”

  “I’m not covering up a thing. I was stunned, I still am. But that doesn’t mean I’m not ecstatic. It doesn’t mean I’m not happier than I’ve ever been.”

  “But the seven weeks. You know it might not be yo—”

  His hand went over her mouth. “Stop right there.”

  He stopped and took a breath, letting his hand slip from her mouth and curl along her chin. “Char, you know I have always respected you as your own person. But I don’t know any other way to say this, so I apologize in advance if this sounds too neanderthal of me. But I’m going to say it anyway.”

  Charlotte braced herself.

  His other hand went to the side of her face, holding it solid, holding her eyes in his. “You are mine, Char. Mine. Anything inside of you, mine. Any child from you, mine. Not to be questioned. Mine.”

  And just like that, Charlotte was no longer lost. No longer at a precipice. She could breathe.

  She was home, fully and completely.

  { Chapter 21 }

  Five weeks passed, and save for the one bout of nausea the day they found out, Charlotte was blessed with no more sickness. She was glowing, and the pregnancy was developing with ease. Never one to allow it previously, Charlotte was letting Triaten coddle her, and he was thoroughly enjoying every second of it.

  The only hiccup in the pregnancy was her unusual taste for bacon. Triaten had Stewart serving it up at almost every meal. If the baby wanted bacon, he was going to give the baby bacon. Plus, he enjoyed watching Charlotte waffle between partaking and restraint. She almost always partook, and once past the tentative first bite, a smile she would try to fight would spread across her face, and then she would attack the meat with gusto.

  So when Horace requested Triaten’s accompaniment to a meeting in the Badlands, without reference to whom they were meeting or why they were going, Triaten bristled at leaving Charlotte, but reluctantly agreed. Since the fire on the mountain, Horace’s thumb held firmly on Triaten’s time. It was what he was owed for helping to save Charlotte and Skye. But Triaten was beginning to wonder if the “owing” would ever ease with his father.

  Once he resigned himself to going, natural curiosity ate away at Triaten during the flight and drive to the Badlands. But Horace refused to name who they were meeting, or why.

  They arrived first at the oddball adobe hut. The door had been fixed on it since Triaten had crushed it the last time he was there. Looking at the one-story pink walls, he cringed at the memory of his sword going into Charlotte’s chest. He was never going to forgive himself for that.

  No matter that Charlotte’s forgiveness had been instant. No matter that she recovered fine. He was the one that had to live with the image of pain and shock vibrating across her face. That instant had been burned so deeply into his soul, he would never forget it. And it still, too often, appeared in his dreams.

  Horace got out of the black sedan and Triaten followed him into the hut. For the cold breeze whipping along the surrounding hills, the inside of the hut was a chilled comfortable.

  “So now that I’m here, with no chance of backing out, are you going to tell me what we’re doing?” Triaten asked to his father’s back.

  Horace turned and gave him a wry smile. “Fine deduction on why I haven’t told you anything.” He went to the small wooden table and took off his gloves, setting them down. “And yes, you would have backed out, or done something else stupid, but it is paramount that you’re here.”

  “Why?”

  “I do believe the moment we’ve been waiting for, preparing for, since the flame moon appeared, is nearly upon us.”

  “So who are we meeting?”

  Horace sat down on a plain wooden chair. “You will see. Sit. Wait.”

  “I’ll stand. Thanks.”

  A silent half hour slipped by. Triaten kept his teeth on his tongue. He was impatient to begin with, getting dragged out here. Especially now that Charlotte was pregnant, there was only one place he wanted to be. By her side. So he felt particularly stingy when it came to offering up conversation to Horace.

  Car wheels crunching the earth outside interrupted Triaten’s stewing thoughts. He turned to the door, crossing his arms across his chest.

  The first person to come through the door did not surprise Triaten in the slightest. Evan. Skye’s father walked into the hut with what Triaten quickly determined was his usual smarminess.

  It was the male that followed Evan into the room that froze Triaten for an instant, then sprung him viciously across the short dirt floor. Dagger drawn, Triaten had the male pinned to the wall, knife across his neck, in one motion.

  “Triaten, stop,” Horace thundered behind him, stopping him from decapitating the male. “I told you no weapons.”

  “Your rule, not mine,” Triaten seethed, unbridled rage heaving. “You better have a good reason for why I don’t kill this bastard, Horace. He’s the one that kidnapped Char.”

  “He’s our link to the Folottos.”

  “It’s not enough.” Triaten pushed the blade flat into skin, drawing blood.

  “Pull the blade away, Triaten.” Horace’s voice was suddenly resigned. “Charlotte wasn’t kidnapped by Damen, per se. It was more of a giving. I was the one that gave him Charlotte.”

  “You what?” Triaten spun to face his father, dagger pointed at him. He advanced. “You—you gave him Charlotte? What the hell—to him?”

  Horace stood his ground. “Charlotte is our best womb, Triaten. What I did was for the greater good.”

  “You and your damn ‘greater good.’” Triaten swung the dagger w
ide. “This is beyond your lowest. There is no greater good that should put Char in the hands of a Malefic. What the hell did you think you were doing?”

  “Powers need to be balanced, Triaten. You know that.”

  Evan coughed. Both Triaten and Horace’s angry faces shifted to him.

  Evan watched the situation with droll amusement. He moved to the other chair at the table and sat. “It is clear that you two have some discussions that need to happen. Let them happen on your own time. We are here in good faith, and my time is precious. Don’t waste it.”

  “Yes.” Horace looked at Triaten. “We will continue this later.” He went to the chair opposite Evan. “You have news?”

  “The clear line into the crust at the bottom of the ocean has been found. The Folottos have been searching for it for some time, and now they have it.” Evan leaned back in his chair. “As we speak, there is a small contingent headed to the site off of the California coast. They think that is all they will need. There is also an alternate large-scale attack planned in Europe to draw your forces overseas.”

  “Which will harm more?” Horace asked.

  “By far, what they plan to do off the coast. Europe is merely a diversion.”

  “And what do they plan to do off the coast?” Triaten interjected. He was getting impatient.

  Evan didn’t look up at him, he kept his words to Horace, but he did answer the question. “They plan on sending California into the ocean. First step in securing themselves as gods, is to kill millions in one dramatic act.”

  Horace leaned forward on the table with a sigh, his hand on his forehead as he looked down. The sigh spoke to his exhaustion of the constant politics and maneuverings of both Panthenites and Malefics. It was so unusual for his father, that whereas Triaten would usually be badgering for details by this point, he instead chose to remain silent.

  Horace tilted his chin slightly to eye Evan. “California? What? How? How are they going to do that?”